#// hurt comfort

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Hurt/Comfort Dialogue Prompts

Part IV

"It's going to be okay. I promise you."

"Let me feel your temperature."

"Can you just look at me? Please?"

"You can trust me. I hope you know that."

"Is there something I can do to make it easier?"

"Please talk to me. I need to hear you."

"We'll be fine. I know it."

"Let me wipe those tears away."

"You're doing amazing, I'm so proud of you."

"It would make me feel better to know that you're alright."

"Can't you see that you are being loved?"

"Do you want me to hold you?"

"You're comfort is more important to me."

"Thank you for sticking by my side."

"I never want to be a reason for you to hurt."

Hurt/Comfort Masterpost

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[tame-the-lion-writes]

(Mild CW: weight insecurity, possible but undefined ED)

Headcanon that Konig is insecure of his size because he was a chubby kid. And sure, now he��s got more muscle than fat, but everytime someone makes a comment about him being “big” (especially if they don’t specify), he kinda internally goes—

“Oh. Okay.”

So for the longest time, he doesn’t like eating sweets or carbs in public. He has a sweet tooth—fueled largely by a doting grandmother who always baked for him whenever he came over—but kids can be mean. Kids can be cruel. So he started eating his cookies and strudels hidden behind the corners of the school playground, until he got too tall to hide and just stopped bringing them to school entirely. And soon enough. his mother was asking why he didn’t even eat them at home.

“But Schatzi, I thought you loved vanillekipferl!”

And he does, he really does. But he can’t.

The habits stick to him well into his adult life. He refrains from eating cakes at birthday parties or celebrations, and at most, he’ll choose a fruit tart. Something vaguely healthy (—but oh, how he misses sweets). He’s also kept himself on an even stricter workout plan than most of his colleagues, since he’s scared of getting big again. And he doesn’t want to be that little boy again, being whispered about and giggled about, feeling all eyes on him (—even if his height never truly let him escape).

But then he meets sweet little you. All doe eyes and gift-giving love language. And just like his grandma, you love to bake.

He was hesitant first, of course, when you started showing up with goodies in a ribbon-tied cardboard box. Sometimes even a tin box, if you were feeling fancy or it was a holiday. Almond cookies, apple pies. Hot chocolate bombs and s’mores cupcakes. But you’re so gosh darn persistent, and it all smells so gosh darn good. And one day, you burst back into his office because you forgot your phone, and you spot him in the middle of stuffing a cookie under his mask.

“… So you like it?”

His heart is dropped in his chest, pumping sheer anxiety, but the way your face lights up at the sight of him eating turns the beat into a soft fluster.

Quiet, muffled— “Ja.”

He’s gotten more comfortable eating sweets since then. Sometimes hesitates when around fellow mercs and military men, but it’s easier around strangers or in private. When he eventually does grow back some of his belly, though, and he looks himself in the mirror, you come up to him and wrap your arms around his middle. Snuggling your face into the healthy layer of fat with a smile. And he smiles, too, knowing just how well you take care of him.

“Next request?”

“Hm. How about sachertorte?”

[comfort-questing]

waking up a sick or hurt character... hesitating by their sleeping form, because maybe for once they're almost peaceful, or maybe they've taken so long to reach sleep in the first place. but in the end they have to do it, to help them drink water or take medicine, or maybe to move them from their place to somewhere safer or more comfortable. so they regretfully, gently shake their shoulder or run a hand over their sweat-slick forehead, speaking in a soft voice, soothing them in their dazed drowsy confusion. it's all right, just a moment, I'll let you rest again in a moment.

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Sweeter Than Revenge Masterlist

Summary: A surprise visit to see your brother turns sour real quick when he doesn't share your hopes of mending your strained relationship. Rudely dismissed by Scott, you seek to give your brother the biggest possible middle finger by joining forces with his rival. Yet the more time you spend with Tyler, the more you begin to discover that there are some things sweeter than revenge.

TW: Romance (potential eventual smut), Fake Dating Becomes Real, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Language, Family Drama, Strained Family Relationship, Reader is Scott's Younger Sister, Tyler Picks Up Reader, Brief Description of Reader's Clothing, f!reader, more to come/specific's listed on each part

Status: Completed (but may write the occasional one-shot)

Main Story:

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Epilogue

One-Shots:

Coming Soon

Headcanons:

Will Reader go on another chase after everything that happened?

Tyler and Scott's Relationship Blurb

[whumpster-dumpster]

100 Ways to say "I Care"

See the original 100 Ways to say "I Love You" list here: [x] I was inspired to make one of my own for caretaking themes 💕

"I'm here."

"Stay still."

"Trust me."

"You're safe."

"I've got you."

"I don't mind."

"I'm not mad."

"Lean on me."

"I understand."

"It's no bother."

"I'll clean it up."

"Take my coat."

"Need a hand?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'll handle this."

"Happy to help."

"Get some rest."

"Can I hug you?"

"I'll get the light."

"I can't lose you."

"Shh, don't cry..."

"My door's open."

"Take small sips."

"Stay behind me."

"I'll walk with you."

"Feel better soon."

"You're not alone."

"How'd you sleep?"

"I just want to help."

"I've got your back."

"Please be careful."

"It wasn't your fault."

"I'm a good listener."

"Let me help you up."

"When I say run, run."

"I'm glad you're okay."

"You're not a burden."

"I made your favorite."

"I'll see what I can do."

"How are you feeling?"

"We'll get through this."

"That's it, just let it out."

"I'm worried about you."

"I'll start a bath for you."

"I'm coming right back."

"I can stay up with you."

"I wish you had told me."

"It's okay to not be okay."

"Your health comes first."

"You need a ride home?"

"Sit tight, I'm on my way."

"I'm not here to hurt you."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Just looking out for you."

"I'm sorry, I know it hurts."

"Let me worry about that."

"Stay as long as you want."

"I'll take care of everything."

"It's fine, I'll take the couch."

"I came as soon as I heard."

"You really gave us a scare."

"I'm not leaving you behind."

"I'm never too busy for you."

"I'll stay until you fall asleep."

"You don't have to apologize."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"It's okay, it was just a dream."

"You ready to eat something?"

"Don't strain yourself, I'll get it."

"I've missed seeing you smile."

"Do you need another blanket?"

"You didn't deserve any of this."

"Follow my breathing. In...out..."

"Don't scare me like that again."

"I'll wake you in a couple hours."

"It's really me. I'm here, I'm real."

"I won't let them near you again."

"You first, I'll be right behind you."

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"I know I don't have to. I want to."

"You can hold my hand if it helps."

"I've got your next round of meds."

"Let me put on some fresh sheets."

"It's good to see you up and about."

"I'm with you every step of the way."

"I'll be outside if you need anything."

"Hey, you're supposed to be resting."

"You're the strongest person I know."

"Is there anyone you want me to call?"

"If you're not up for this, let me know."

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"I just hate to see you hurting like this."

"Tell me what you need most right now."

"I called off work. You've got me all day."

"You've got my emergency contact info."

"I know you. You don't seem like yourself."

"I have a change of clothes ready for you."

"I'm so proud of you, and how far you've come."

"Call me if you need me. I don't care how late it is."

"They want to get to you, they'll have to go through me."

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about Wade's Adhd and rejection sensitivity. Getting upset about inconveniences he can't control even when not mentally small, just becoming irationally overly upset over things that don't really affect much.

How he's been talking about a certain sandwitch all day long. Since noon, throughout the entire mission, and now he's yapping about it again on the 6 block walk to said sandwitch joint ran by a small immigrant family.

He keeps talking about how great it is. Logan didn't have this place in his timeline, so Wade is ampled excited to show him. Logan jokes with him how he sounds more excited to eat this sub then he is to suck dick.

Wade, with the most serious face, goes, "I can get dick anytime. They're only open 4 days a week and only from 1 to 5."

Logan notes this in the back of his mind for the future.

Just as they get there, Wade is telling Logan that they used to be open 10-5 but their daughter went to college, so now they are on their own. How these people have been so kind to him and told him that they started this shop for their daughter specifically. To give her a good life, they've been working hard to send her to college since day one.

As they roll up to the door, Wade's face drops. All of the glee and joy from his body evaporates and immediately he's just staring at the sign.

"Sorry, we're closed. Come back -" and then a small plastic clock that shown when they opened again tomorrow at 1 pm.

They're too late.

"Oh... well, that sucks." Logan mutters, hands in his pockets as he watches Wade look so utterly disappointed that even he begins to feel bad for him.

He puts a hand on his shoulder. "We can always come again tomorrow."

"B-but I...i wanted.." He starts to tear up, quickly moving to wipe his eyes, sniffling and shaking his head. "It's fine... okay.. tomarrow." He whispers, not only feeling pathetic for being so upset over a sandwitch store being closed, but now they had to walk all the way back home.

"...are you okay?"

"Yeah.. it's fine.." But it's clearly not fine. He fully understands that they were late, and thats why they were closed. He's not angry at them. He's not angry at logan either. Not even himself, really. He must have miscalculated the time. A pure mistake.

But on the way home, it's very obvious that this is a big deal. He's quiet. Staring at the ground as he walks, biting his nails, wiping a tear once inawhile.

It makes Logan frown, uncomfortable with the silence, knowing his mind was no where near silent at the moment. He knew it was turmoil in there, a loud and pouting mess.

"....do you want to get something else?"

"...no..." He whispers.

Logan observes his body language, watching how his eyes kept flickering and filling with a tear every now and again. How distant he becomes and almost... hugs himself... at one point. He knows that this is a much different response from when small him throws a tantrum or sulks. He looks as if he genuienly didn't want to be upset but just... is. As if he couldn't stop his overwhelming emotions from flooding his mind.

He takes his hand. "...is it because you wanted to show me?"

"No.. I mean.. kinda? But I just... I really wanted it."

"We can get it tomarrow?"

"I know. I can't... its hard to explain."

Logan gives his hand a squeeze, talking quietly.

"... is it a safe food?"

Wade nods, wiping another tear on his sleeve. It was one of the few things he could eat without puking. But that still wasn't why he was upset.

"Do you want me to make you a sub?"

He shakes his head. "It won't be the same."

"Im sure I can make it the sa-"

"No.. I mean... yes?? Im sorry, Peanut. It's... It's an experience thing.. I've had it in my head all day to go and get a sub from them. And now I can't check it off until tomorrow."

Oooh.. that makes sense. He had a checklist in his head. Something he needed to finish before he could go to bed. And now that this wasn't finished? He would have a hard time moving forward.

When they arrive home, Wade goes to hide in the corner of their bedroom, quiet and trying to think of something else he could do to distract his mean brain from yelling at him.

'What are you doing? You were supposed to go to the shop! Stop being lazy and just go! Come on! We've been waiting all day for this! ... Logan said he would eat a sub with us...But we were so good today...' They said.

"I know.." he muttered, putting on his headphones, hoping to drown them out.

It doesn't work. Now hes just laying in bed, rotting and staring at the ceiling while tears travel down the sides of his face. He's breathing a bit shakily.

'Why are we crying? Its just a sandwitch. It has nothing to do with the sandwich dipshit!! Are we bad..? Did we misbehave? Is that why Logan dosn't want to eat with us? Hey! Hello?? Were kind of starving here. Haven't even had anything today since breakfast. Im not hungry anymore. You're really pathetic you know that? Almost 50 years old crying over a fucking sandwitch.'

They were so loud that even with the volume up so high, he didn't hear Logan come in.

"Wade?" He waves a hand in front of him, watching as he jumps, looking up with such puffy red eyes.

"W-what?"

He puts down a plate. It's a sub.

Looking at it, he glances between him and the food multiple times, watching as Logan takes it, taking a bite and sitting next to him.

He doesn't say a word.

Now, Wade is crying for a different reason, his eyes softening as he smiles, gently leaning into him. "... Can I have a bite?"

"Of my dick or my sub?" He asks, glancing to him with a teasing look painted on his raised brow.

Wade giggles, nuzzling into his shoulder as he takes a big breath, sighing. Glancing at the door, he mutters. "Do you see this shit? And you all call me the nasty one."

Logan only smirks, a bit too proudly. "Says the guy who once-"

"Woah woah woah peanut! That's enough. This episode is rated pg. Sorry about that. God, such a potty mouth." He snickers, sitting up as Logan lets him take a bite from the end of the sub, Lady and the Tramp style.

[space-blue]

Drunken Dreams

On AO3 | On Twitter | For @arcanefandomweek's Arcane Visions

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Sweeter Than Revenge Masterlist

Summary: A surprise visit to see your brother turns sour real quick when he doesn't share your hopes of mending your strained relationship. Rudely dismissed by Scott, you seek to give your brother the biggest possible middle finger by joining forces with his rival. Yet the more time you spend with Tyler, the more you begin to discover that there are some things sweeter than revenge.

TW: Romance (potential eventual smut), Fake Dating Becomes Real, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Language, Family Drama, Strained Family Relationship, Reader is Scott's Younger Sister, Tyler Picks Up Reader, Brief Description of Reader's Clothing, f!reader, more to come/specific's listed on each part

Status: Completed (with the possibility of one-shots in the future)

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Epilogue

One-Shots:

Coming Soon

Headcanons:

Will Reader go on another chase after everything that happened?

Tyler and Scott's relationship blurb

[cirilee]

you're gonna have to wait for @mareeoth 's episode to find out what caused alvin to overheat (AGAIN) — rest assured, isi's got it all under control. yes. definitely

[jordanstrophe]

Whumpee abruptly woke. They tried to sit up, but a strap was loose around their chest and waist.

"Where... m' I?" Whumpee groaned. Just using their voice made them wince.

They squinted around, blurry structures whizzed past them. There was a towel over their chest covering their body.

-And covered in blood.

A hand touched their forhead. Whumpee could see the arm was bloody and shaking.

"We're going home." Caretakers' voice reponded. Whumpee could hear stress in their voice.

"I'm taking you home. You- ... You're going to be okay."

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Hurt/Comfort Dialogue Prompts

Part III

"We will get through this. Together."

"You can hold my hand, if it makes you feel safer."

"It will become easier. Maybe not today, but soon."

"Lay your head on my shoulder and try to sleep."

"There is nothing wrong with needing a bit of help."

"I'm here for you. Today, tomorrow and every day after."

"Please trust me to help you."

"Thank you for getting me through this."

"I'm really hoping to see you smile again soon."

"Nothing a good night's sleep can't fix."

"Show me that bruise please."

"I'm taking care of you now."

"Do you feel safe enough to come with me?"

"Let's dry those tears and get you some water."

"I'm going to be here when you wake up."

"This will all soon be in the past."

"Can I please hold your hand?"

"Sorry, I'm being so difficult for you."

"Don't apologize for needing help every now and then."

"Let's get you in the shower and we'll take it from there."

Hurt/Comfort Masterpost

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[thatmexisaurusrex]

What if in the big first disaster mini-arc of season 8, Tommy's helicopter crashes close to where the 118 are. Gerrard decides that the helicopter, and everyone that is in it, is a lost cause and that they shouldn't be wasting resources or his team trying to help anyone out of the crash. What if the entire team mutinies to go find Tommy, his team, his helicopter, and the patients he was transporting?

What if the people in the helicopter crash are scattered - some in the helicopter, some flung out of it? What if Tommy was one of the people flung out of the helicopter; lost and out of range?

What if the 118 manages to find the helicopter, only to see that Tommy is missing? But they have to secure the scene, they have to call for back up, they have to make sure everyone still in the helicopter is okay. But maybe Hen takes over the scene and tells Chimney and Buck to keep searching the woods for other survivors.

And Buck feels guilty that he's relieved that Hen chose him to go sift through the woods of this mountain for other survivors, but there's really no time to think about that. There's no time at all.

Lives are on the line.

Tommy is out there.

And in the woods, Tommy is hurt. He's hurt, but he can hear someone calling for help. So, he moves despite knowing full well that might be bad for him. He moves because he's a first responder and will always try to help someone in need. And he finds one of his patients worse off than before. And he feels guilt that due to bad weather conditions and how the fire in the woods traveled (did I not say there was a fire? There's a fire and it's threatening to reach their side of the mountain at any moment), he lost control of the helicopter (and I would like to think there would be another twist too, like the 118 find something was already messed up with the helicopter to begin with, so it was a miracle that Tommy could even fly it at all).

But Tommy could do this.

He could save this one person.

So, Tommy's doing his best. He's working through his own pain as he puts a splint on this person's leg, as he pops this person's dislocated arm back in, as he makes the split decision to burn a cut closed because he doesn't have the supplies and that was the best he could do without the person bleeding out during a hike. And he makes a fucking board out of low branches he rips off trees. And, damn it, he knows his radio is basically busted, but he tries for help, only getting broken static back.

But he is going through.

He just can't hear the other end.

But his words are getting through the radio - they're reaching Buck. And Buck is desperately trying to answer back, he's trying to far longer than he should, he should have realized the first four tries that Tommy can't here him.

But he knows which direction Tommy is going. Because he and Tommy hiked up this mountain before. Buck knows which trail Tommy is trying to get to, so it's a race against time - will Buck and Chimney get to Tommy and the patient before the fire gets to them?

And the answer is that they get there just as the fire does. Nipping at Tommy's heels, but it ends up being stopped by a water drop just in time. Tommy is stunned when he sees Chimney and Evan, he's truly stunned.

He didn't think anyone heard him.

He didn't think they were going to be found in time.

And Buck calls it in, asks for backup, asks for help. Chimney checks on the person Tommy did first aid on.

And Tommy.

And Buck.

They run to each other.

They collapse into each other's arms. Exhausted and running on adrenaline alone. And they're checking if the other is okay - both are very worse for wear. And things seem okay as they wait for help to get to them. Things are going great for Hen too, she successfully saves everyone else in the helicopter crash with Eddie and Ravi's help.

But then.

A tree nearby is unstable.

Tommy sees it just in time.

And Tommy pushes Chimney out of the way, only to be caught under the tree.

And this is bad.

Back breaking bad.

Body crushing bad.

Buck tries not to panic, but it's clear this has shaken him. Chimney is doing his best and is calling for more help.

Help gets there, help finally gets there. And they manage to pull the tree off Tommy. Buck rides with Tommy to the hospital, holding his hand. He paces, distressed, as he waits for the longest surgery in his life.

And Tommy? Tommy should make it. But he's out, he's been put into a medically induced a coma as he heals. And at first, that's okay. Buck can be there. He can make sure Tommy's warm. He can hold Tommy's hand and read to him, and sleep in a rolled in bed.

Until that stops.

Mysteriously, he's not allowed into Tommy's room.

He's not allowed any information.

He's not Tommy's family.

And Tommy's parents are, somehow, technically still Tommy's next of kin - they're in charge of his medical treatment. They're in charge of who sees him.

Buck tries to explain who he is.

They reject the very idea of it.

And it's devastating. Buck didn't think about this. He didn't know this could happen. Tommy hadn't spoken to his parents in over twenty years, yet they're just allowed to come and do this to him.

Buck doesn't know what to do. He can't eat. He can't sleep. People have to force him to do anything for himself as he wonders how Tommy's parents are treating him.

Are they reading to him? Are they spending time with him? Are they making sure he's warm? Are they doing anything at all? Is this all for spite?

Somehow, other people are allowed to visit.

Just not Buck.

Buck is blacklisted.

Eddie is allowed; Christopher too. Chimney, somehow; probably because Tommy had saved his life. Maddie, even. Hen isn't, they can tell something is queer about Hen. Ravi isn't either. Bobby was allowed at first, before he made a case to the Kinards to let Buck see Tommy and it went south.

But definitely not Buck.

And Buck? Buck is camped out in the waiting room. The waiting room he kissed Tommy in. He basically has grown a short beard in that waiting room, he hasn't been shaving.

And all Buck can ask when he sees Eddie or Chimney or Maddie is - how is he doing? Is he doing okay? Is his favorite blanket still on him? What did you talk to him about? What did you read him? How did he look?

And the nurses - they know Buck. They've known him for years. And some take pity on him one night, and let him at least near the room when the parents are gone.

And the parents file for a restraining order against Buck, but it was worth it just to see Tommy.

Tommy looked better than last time.

That was good.

That was what mattered.

And a few more days go by like that with Buck in the waiting room, unable to leave.

Until Tommy wakes up.

He wakes up.

He asks his parents to leave.

He asks for Evan.

And a band of nurses and maybe Chimney rush over and tell Buck the news.

And Buck is running.

Sprinting.

To get to Tommy's room.

He knows where it is.

He memorized where the room was.

And he sees Tommy awake.

And part of him hadn't realized that he wasn't sure if Tommy would wake up. That some little, horrible part of him thought that Tommy would never wake up and he would never see Tommy again.

Tommy makes a joke about how Evan looks like a caveman.

Buck laughs. And cries. And sobs as he rushes frantically over to Tommy and collapses into a hug.

Tommy holds Buck as best as he can in his state while mumbling fondly that Evan smells like a caveman too. Buck offers to go, get cleaned up, but Tommy holds onto him.

Asks Evan to stay.

Apologizes for his parents, that he hadn't expected them to come. That he is going to change his will as soon as he can.

And he just wants Evan there.

With him.

And Buck stays.

[ made a fic based on this on AO3 in my Denial-Verse series ]

[astarioffsimpmain]

Won't Lose You

Astarion x GN!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: This kind of became...whump? Whumpfort? It's angsty but with fluffy comfort at the end, and even a sprinkle of humor.

Synopsis: After your victory against the Netherbrain, you wake up without Astarion beside you. With the curtains opened and the sunlight streaming in, you fear the worst.

Author's Note: I FINALLY finished it, @icybluepenguin !!! 🥰 Thank you so much for your gift, and I hope you enjoy mine to you!

It was over, and all it cost him was his life in the sun.

Trance did not find him easily that night, but not for the reasons he was accustomed to. His arms tightened around your bare body, sleep having taken you hours ago. Sure, he had felt the sun burning his waxen skin for the first time since he escaped Cazador's grasp once the brain was defeated, but it hadn't lasted too very long, what with you sacrificing your cloak to him in an instant, draping it around his shoulders and casting darkness to hide him from the light.

Because of you, he had remained a part of your happy band of misfits in the sun and had been able to participate in the following celebrations. Although he'd never admit it to anyone but you, he had enjoyed watching Gale’s feeble attempts at dancing and the product of Karlach's endless stream of beer. But what he enjoyed most was being by your side. If you hadn't given him care enough to keep him safe, he would have had to depart your little festivities early and wait for the dark to come. He shuddered at the thought of being thrust back into an icy loneliness after all the warmth he had known. He wasn't sure he would have survived it.

But he shook those thoughts away with a turn of his head and burrowed his nose into your hair, breathing in the lather you both shared in the bathroom earlier in the evening. This made him smile; reminded him of why sleep would not come. He had been tangled up in you all night; experiencing you, touching you, loving you, and being loved in return. Your touch was soft, but it demanded a measure of kindness to himself that he had never known, and at times, it would overwhelm him. But you were patient, so endlessly patient with him, and you let him come to you, your arms open and waiting for him to trust you, and trust you he did.

He had trusted you for a long time now, despite every instinct he had telling him not to. He had trusted you to keep him safe, then to keep him fed. Even later down the road, he trusted you to let him choose, then he trusted you to set him free, and finally, after many trials and hard days bleeding into hard nights, he had trusted you to show him how to be loved, and you had not let him down. Not once. He was free, he was fed, and he was loved, and gods, he was giddy about it. The prospect of a whole new life with you was so intoxicating that he felt like he was floating off of the mattress, and his undead heart did phantom flips in his chest.

In the hours since the tadpole had been removed from his brain, he had felt his vampiric strength begin to return to him. As he laid with you, he clenched and unclenched his fingers, feeling unmistakably stronger than he remembered being even before the tadpole. "Perhaps it's simply because I no longer starve," he thought to himself as he took to admiring his fingernails in the dimly lit room. "Are they longer than before?"

He let his hand fall and turned his head to the side to gaze out into the night sky. You had insisted on closing the thick drapes over the window in case he fell asleep, but the moment he felt your breathing even out against him, he'd wrenched them back open. You had taught him to appreciate the moon again by your love of it. For the longest time, even before the possibility of the ritual was presented to him, he had worried that you would abandon him in favor of the sun. Not too long ago, he would have done so to you, and the thought never ceased to eat away at him. But you assured him over and over that the moon was your beacon, not the sun, and him, your North Star.

And when the comfort of the light abandoned him, you kept your word. Now, he couldn't imagine giving you up for anything. You were his sun. He would never need anything else. He smiled to himself as you snuggled closer to him in your sleep. With your warmth pressed against him, he found himself relaxing into a state of comfort he didn't realize he was still capable of, and he drifted into a blissful, peaceful trance in your arms.

Light pooled on your eyelids as you woke, warming your face with its rays, and you stretched, barely conscious of the world around you. Belatedly, you threw your arm to the other side of the bed, expecting to feel Astarion's cold body there beside you, as you had for the last several months. When you felt only bed sheets beneath your palm, you cracked an eye open, and your sleep-addled mind began to catch up with you all at once. "Ast- Star?" You mumbled incoherently, your mind beginning to race as you rubbed your eyes. The final battle. The Netherbrain. The sunlight burning beautiful pallor skin. Casting darkness. It came back to you in flashes and your heartbeat thumped ominously in your chest as you sat up and finally took in the open curtains of the window near to you, and the empty spot in the bed beside you.

A full-bodied panic arose with in you, and you pressed a firm hand against your chest as you called his name brokenly into the empty room. "Star? Star?!" Your voice cracked and your hands patted furiously across the side of the bed where his body should be laying, and altogether at once you found your reason and forced yourself up to run to the bathroom of your room, praying he had opened the curtains for you and then ducked away to take a bath before you rose. You prayed to as many gods and goddesses as you could name in the short number of steps from the bed to the bathroom door, but your heart stuttered to a near stop when the door creaked open and your lover was not there.

You clapped a hand over your mouth to keep in the sudden wave of nausea that overtook you as the thought came crashing down all around you. 'He wouldn't have gone to sleep with the curtains open. He wouldn't. He wouldn't do that. Not after everything. Not after-' "Oh, goooods." You wailed, stumbling back into the bedroom and nearly ripped the curtains closing them. A heartsick sob burst from your lips as you fell to your knees in front of the empty bed, raking your hands over it again and again as if to summon him into it. "Astarioooooon," you moaned, your face meeting the bed as you wept, continuing to pray that he had left you in the night instead, preferring that to the alternative.

A small, high pitched squeaking sound pierced your ears, but you couldn't find yourself to be bothered with it, any vermin in the room with you a small, insignificant intrusion upon the altar of your grief. You fisted the bedsheets and clenched them hard in your hands, taking shuddering breaths as you tried to reach another conclusion. In the meantime, the squeaking became louder and louder until you were forced to raise your head and meet its source: a small, white bat had crawled to you from under the covers of the bed, its furry head cocked to the side as it stared at you with beady red eyes. You sniffled, staring back at the bat, which seemed only to have eyes for you. It crawled ever closer until it reached your white-knuckled hands and stretched its wings over them as if to hug them.

You blinked hard, willing the tears away enough to observe the bat better. 'How did this little guy get in here?' You wondered as it crawled up your arm gently, only taking repose once it reached the crook of your neck and nestled close. "Wait," you paused, fingers already tenderly trailing over the bat's fur. "You came in when Astarion left, didn't you? He's alive, isn't he?!" You cried, and when the bat squeaked, almost in response, you let out a delirious laugh that then morphed into a choking sob. Elation and despair mixed as it sunk in. 'He's alive. He left me.'

You twisted to lay your head against the side of the bed, and the bat took flight, leaving to fly somewhere behind you. You didn't look. You couldn't move. The memories of you and Astarion were playing like a carousel in your mind; each touch, every kiss, all of his gleaming smiles, and heart-wrenching tears. You couldn't live a life without him, not after all you'd gone through to finally find one another. Did he still resent you for urging him not to ascend? Your heart clenched as you remembered the betrayal in his eyes when you had not given in to his desire for power. He didn't speak to you for an entire day afterward. You had been a mess; but nothing compared to what you were now.

Your hands shook as you brought them up to your face. “He said everything was alright. He said he was glad.” You murmured into your palms softly, brokenly. But was it? You heaved suddenly, but all that emerged was a desperate sob. He was gone. How would anything be alright ever again? Your thoughts swirled as you leaned against the mattress, face buried between your fingers. So loud was its pain that you missed the faint popping sound from behind you.

“...darling?” A soft voice whispered in your ear, and you choked, your head whipping behind you in the direction of sound; that voice, so achingly familiar.

“Astarion?” You croaked weakly as your eyes fell upon your pale lover's own.

“My love,” he cooed gently, his face contorted in pain.

“A-Astarion?!” You cried, turning to him and launching yourself at him. He caught you swiftly and pulled you into his arms, cradling you against his chest while you sobbed in relief.

“I- I don't know how it happened.” He sputtered. “I… I fell into trance and woke up as-”

You sniffled, wiping your eyes as it dawned on you. “-as a bat?”

“Well…yes, as a bat.” He replied dumbfoundedly as he continued to stroke your hair and cheek. “It must be a product of my vampiric powers returning since the tadpole is no longer…well, sucking them away.”

“I thought- “

“I know. I heard. I'm so sorry, darling.”

You sniffled again, shaking your head as if to send the thoughts away, and pulled closer to your lover, burying your face into the cold skin of his bare chest. After several moments of quiet calm, you let out a small chuckle.

“Darling?” Astarion asked tentatively.

“You're really cute as a bat.” You chittered quietly, and Astarion huffed out a laugh.

“I am beautiful and majestic in every form, my little love.” he crooned in your ear, and you smiled, your crusted cheeks pulling taut with the movement.

“You certainly are.” you replied, then fell silent for a moment before chuckling again.

“Yes, darling?” Astarion asked playfully.

“If your clothes didn't shrink with you when you became a bat, where did they go?” You snorted softly, running your hand up and down his bare side.

“Gods if I know, but if you know what's good for you, you won't take this opportunity for granted.” He replied cheekily, and you giggled, pulling away from his chest - with great effort, as your skin had somewhat fused upon drying off.

“I love you, Astarion.” You whispered, meeting his ruby red gaze.

He cupped your cheeks tenderly and held your eyes. “I love you too, darling. I will not abandon you. Not for death, not for the sun, and not for fear. I am not angry with you. Gods, I'm the happiest I can remember ever being.” His eyes narrowed, and one eyebrow shot up. “You'd have to well and truly fight me til death if you wished to remove me from your side.”

Then you laughed, full and sweet, and leaned in to press your lips to his. “Well then,” you mumbled against them. “It's quite the relief that I have no plans of ever getting rid of you, hm?”

“I'd say so, little love.” He replied before leaning in to capture your lips once more. One of his hands crept to the back of your head to keep you in place and the other made its home at your hip, pulling you flush against him and squeezing the skin there as he deepened the kiss.

You moaned softly into his mouth and let your arms twine around his neck, but pulled away before he dove any further. “Hey, Astarion.” you mumbled against his mouth.

“Mm?” He hummed, his eyes lust blown and lidded.

“Can you turn into a bat next time we have a bath together? The tubs in this inn are really quite small…”

“Oh, gods.” He rolled his eyes, and you laughed, pulling him back in and kissing his face until it went red. He would never live this down, but he was not sure he minded all that much; not if it was you.

♡♡♡

fin

[dreamcubed]

it's nice to have a friend | theodore nott x reader

song; it's nice to have a friend [taylor swift] pairing; theodore nott x fem!wallflower!muggle-born!reader genre; s2l, angst, hurt comfort, fluff word count; 7,8k timeline; subsidiary 8th year warnings; swearing, reference to incestual rape, anxiety, nightmares, daddy issues, mommy issues, smoking, abusive mother, abusive grandfather, attachment issues, references to theo's mum's death, references to sex summary; elusive and unknown, you slunk along the walls of hogwarts without ever being noticed. that was, until, a boy who everybody knew spotted you

sorry i'm just so obsessed with the idea of a muggle-born who comes back to hogwarts after being in hiding atm

masterlist

"feels like home, stay in bed the whole weekend."

————————————————

Who was Y/N L/N?

Many would frown at that question, saying that they had no idea who that was, even if they had shared a vast number of classes with you throughout the years. Some others would pause, and ponder, as the name rung a bell but they just could not put a face to it. The rare few would answer, "Oh, I know her! Never heard her talk though." And that was all there was to it, really.

You had flown under the radar for many years— which had been enormously useful when you had to go into hiding as a muggle-born— but you weren't exactly a nobody. You were the girl at the back of class, who always had a hood over your head, always had dark circles around your eyes: a mixture of eye bags and your smudged days-old black eyeliner. The girl who disappeared after class for a cigarette out of the window of an abandoned part of the castle. The girl who was almost never at meals— at least not at the typical times.

You were an enigma to anyone who actually knew you, which essentially only included your dorm mates. They had tried to befriend you initially, but you were distant and asocial: they were still friendly with you, but they had learned not to push or pry. Thankfully, none of them had taken it personally.

But being so unknown had been incredibly useful while you were in hiding from Voldemort. It was unlikely he knew you existed— nor would anyone he interrogated about existing muggle-borns and their whereabouts. Thus, you returned to Hogwarts after his defeat for the subsidiary eighth year completely unharmed. You hadn't changed at all in the time, apart from a few more piercings, tattoos and freshly dyed hair.

It felt surreal being able to sit on the window sill of your favourite castle smoke spot again, as no matter how little friends you had at Hogwarts, you felt peaceful there. You had missed it sorely.

Taking a drag from your cigarette, you held the harsh smoke within your lungs and gazed at the cloudy view of Scotland, feeling tranquil. That was, until, you heard footsteps, which made you freeze. You internally prayed that it was neither a professor nor a prefect— but this part of the castle was abandoned, and it wasn't even close to curfew yet, so you didn't see how it could be. Cautiously, you peered around as the footsteps came to a halt, to see a Slytherin boy from your year pausing as he caught sight of you with a cigarette in hand.

Theodore Nott. Everyone knew who he was, including you, and because of that you let relief wash over you: he wouldn't snitch, you were pretty sure that he smoked himself.

He tilted his head at you, clearly with no recognition in his eyes.

"This is my smoke spot," he said simply, hands in his pockets. He had discovered the spot the year prior, when his smoking had become a serious habit, partially due to the depressing atmosphere that the war created.

You stared at him, not saying a word.

"Who are you?"

Releasing a sigh, you turned back to face the view, "Y/N L/N. And I came here long before you, Nott."

You felt the burn of his gaze on your back, and then heard him move closer to you until he sat next to you on the large windowsill. "You know who I am."

"We only had classes together for six years."

He seemed to mull over those words for a few moments. "I've never seen you before."

"Not many have," you shrugged, taking another long toke of your cigarette.

Nott didn't have a response for that, instead pulling out his baccy pouch and beginning to roll. You weren't necessarily happy about the intrusion on your alone time, but you didn't own that windowsill, and you weren't about to waste the rest of your cigarette.

Eventually, once he had lit up his own, he spoke again, "You're a muggle-born."

You quirked an eyebrow, which he probably couldn't see under your hood, but he explained how he knew regardless.

"That's why I never saw you here- at this spot- last year."

Nodding in confirmation, you breathed out smoke, watching as it dissipated into the breeze. The two of you settled into silence as you smoked, which you found to be an immense relief. You didn't like talking, you didn't like people knowing things about you. You weren't shy, like your dorm mates thought, you had just learned throughout your life that saying too much had negative consequences.

Finally, your cigarette burned to the filter, and you put it out next to you before flicking it out the window. You stood up and looked at Nott, who was still smoking, unsure of how to end the peculiar interaction.

"I would say you'll see me around, but no one ever does," you finally said, shoving your hands in your pockets and leaving without waiting for a reply. You hadn't said it in an attention-seeking self-pitying way— you had stated it nonchalantly, as it was a fact.

Nott watched you curiously as you disappeared.

***

The next morning, instead of going to breakfast, you went straight to your smoke spot. You never ate in the mornings, it didn't sit right with your stomach. Only, when you climbed the last step to the abandoned tower, you saw that it was already occupied by the same Slytherin from yesterday. His gaze flicked to you as he heard your approach.

As much as you wanted to just turn around and find another smoke spot, you didn't have enough time before your first lesson, and your nicotine addiction needed satiating. So, reluctantly, you took a seat on the windowsill and began rolling as Nott puffed away next to you.

"Good morning," he said as you glided your tongue along the paper.

You glanced up, muttering a, "Morning," before focusing on your cigarette again.

"Are you in my DADA?" he asked.

You gave a curt nod: it was your first lesson back that day.

He hummed absently, putting his cigarette out, but not moving from where he was sat. You said nothing on the matter, hoping to Merlin that he wasn't waiting for you in order to walk to the lesson together.

You began reaching around in your pockets for your lighter, cursing when you couldn't find it. Just as you were about to pull out your wand as a substitute, Nott was holding a lighter out towards you. You narrowed your eyes at him: you used a lighter out of the habit you had developed while living as a muggle the last year, but why would he use one?

As if sensing your confusion, he supplied your answer, "It's more satisfying."

It was strange to see a pure-blood who wasn't against anything and everything muggle, but you accepted his lighter, a strange sensation washing over you as you did so. It felt like you had just made an oath of some sort, agreed to something you didn't know the terms of— like something had now been sealed between the two of you. Pushing that thought aside, you took your first drag, letting the familiar contentment that nicotine provided take over you.

"Thanks," you murmured, handing the lighter back to him.

There was nothing but silence as you smoked, not another word said even as you finished and went to stand up. He stood up, too, and it was then that your fears were confirmed: he was going to walk with you to the lesson. You supposed it was probably just politeness, but Nott had never struck you as someone who cared about that sort of thing. He, like the other Slytherin boys, was known for his quick temper and rude disposition. But for all you knew he could have changed in the year that you were gone.

You didn't ask— you seldom asked questions, no matter how curious you were. Instead, you allowed him to walk alongside you without complaint, subconsciously adjusting the bag strap on your shoulder.

When you reached the classroom without having exchanged a word, Nott's friends— Riddle and Zabini— approached and greeted him. They didn't notice you, which was expected, so you took the opportunity to slink away to your seat at the back of class. You felt Nott's eyes linger on you as you went, but paid no mind to it, refusing to turn around and look at him.

The professor called attention to the room.

"From what I understand, you all made contact with a boggart back in third year," she began, "Obviously it has been sometime, and in order to ease you back into Defence Against the Dark Arts after learning the Dark Arts, I think it would be a good idea to revisit some basics."

There were murmurs of fear and excitement as she pulled forward a cupboard, much like the one from third year.

"Everyone, form a queue," she said, "Do you remember the charm to counteract a boggart?"

Hermione Granger's hand instantly shot up, and the professor gestured for her to answer.

"Riddikulus."

"Excellent!" she smiled, "Let's begin, shall we?"

You had taken a position in the middle of the queue, and watched as the first people faced their fears and turned them into something ridiculous. Laughter began rippling throughout the classroom, and you even felt your lips curving up ever so slightly. But, when it came to your turn, your face went completely solemn.

You watched as what had been a massive snake from the previous person morphed into a reflection of yourself: only, it wasn't you. You would never wear such a glamorous and expensive dress, and you would never have such a wide smile on your face as flashing cameras surrounded you. Clenching your jaw, you watched as boggart-you waved and posed for the cameras, and raised your wand.

"Riddikulus," you murmured, and the scene before you unfolded with boggart-you slipping on a banana peel and tearing her dress. Laughter boomed from behind you, and you quickly walked away to the back of the classroom as the next student had their go.

It wasn't long before it was Nott's turn, and for some reason you found yourself paying more attention than you had before. Your eyes followed his movements as the boggart took the form of an older man, who had a stern look on his face. He seemed familiar, and it only took you a few moments to realise that you had seen him in the Daily Prophet after the war. It was Tiberius Nott, a death eater who had been sent to Azkaban for life after Voldemort's defeat— also Theodore Nott's father.

Nott remained emotionless as he faced his father, refusing to react as he raised his wand and muttered the spell. Then, Tiberius Nott was suddenly wearing clown attire, quickly becoming the next laughingstock of the class. Theodore Nott left the front of the queue and came around to the back where you were while Riddle faced the boggart.

"You're afraid of being popular," he stated as he stood beside you.

"You're afraid of your father," you replied— not as an insult, just as a fact.

"Fathers are terrifying when they're death eaters."

You shrugged, "I don't know mine."

Nott eyed you curiously, as he didn't know what to make of you. Not that anyone really did. Before he could say anything else, Riddle was walking towards the both of you. It was of no surprise that he didn't acknowledge you, likely not even noticing you stood there beside his best friend. That was how you liked it, so you moved your attention away from their conversation and watched as Zabini approached the boggart.

When he finished and joined his friends, you heard Riddle ask, "Wanna go for a fag after this?"

Nott agreed easily, whereas Zabini declined.

"L/N," your eyes widened, and you snapped your head in Nott's direction, "You coming?"

"Coming where?" you knew what they were talking about.

"For a smoke," Nott tilted his head towards the door, "After this lesson."

You watched in horror as Riddle and Zabini's eyes settled on you in confusion and lack of recognition, despite the fact a celebrity version of you had just been displayed to the whole class. But, you supposed, celebrity you didn't resemble your natural state all that much.

"No, thanks."

He raised an eyebrow at you, as if he believed that you would definitely be going for a cigarette after the lesson, just not with the Slytherin boys.

The professor called for everyone to sit down as the last person finished with the boggart, and as the three boys walked away from you, you heard Riddle mutter, "Who the fuck is that?" to his friends. With a sigh, you took your seat and got out some parchment, hoping that the interaction wouldn't be the trigger for everyone in the school knowing who you were.

But, had you ever been lucky?

***

It horrified you how easily Nott could spot you in a crowd, as it wasn't something you were used to— in fact, it was something that you had purposefully avoided. But that was no more, as when you entered the Great Hall for dinner, at the usual time as everyone else for once (your hunger had dictated that), he had made eye contact with you and gestured for you to come sit with him. Immediately, you shook your head: you weren't there to make friends, and you weren't about to sit on the Slytherin table as a muggle-born.

When his friends turned to see who he was beckoning over, they scanned the area you were in without their eyes ever landing on you. Not even Zabini or Riddle, who had seen you the other day, noticed you stood by the entrance. So, why was Nott different?

You took the opportunity to take a seat at the Ravenclaw table with your back to the Slytherins, not wanting to further engage. You had experienced more than enough socialisation for a lifetime in the last week, in your opinion. It was probably at least once every couple of days that you happened to venture to the tower smoke spot at the same time as Nott, and part of you wanted to find a new place. Alas, you had developed an attachment to that tower, and the views were remarkably soothing, so you hadn't.

It was why you didn't bother to move when Nott arrived to see you sat on the window sill that evening, after you had disregarded him at dinner.

"Are you really so scared of making friends?" he asked from behind you.

"Why do you care?" you scoffed.

"You intrigue me."

"Forget about me, Nott. I prefer it that way."

He chuckled, "I think forgetting you is impossible."

You clenched your fist, "Why would you want to associate with a mudblood?"

"I don't give a shit about blood purity, L/N," he said, accidentally dropping his lighter. You heard him curse under his breath in Italian, before looking at you again. "Can I ask why?"

"Why what?" you grumbled, taking a puff from your cigarette.

"Why do you keep to yourself?"

You assessed his intentions cautiously, debating how much information you should give him. Eventually, all you said was, "Saying too much has consequences. If people know too much about you, they use it against you."

"Who's they?"

"Everyone."

He shook his head, "But, it's not, though, is it? Who gave you such a warped perception of reality?"

"It may not be your reality, but it's mine."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Why should I tell you?"

Nott shrugged, "I'm just trying to understand you."

"Well, stop trying."

"I won't," he said simply, "But if you're worried about me having something on you, I'll tell you about me so we're even."

"Please don't."

"My mother died when I was quite young," he began, against your will, "Which left me to my father, who you are familiar with."

"Are you looking for pity?"

"No, I don't want your pity," he scowled, "I told you why I'm telling you. Stop being dense."

You frowned at his words.

"Where my mother was sweet and loving, my father was anything but," he explained, "Physically abusive, literally a death eater, punished me if I ever cried."

You focused your eyes on to your cigarette, ashing it with a tap of your finger.

"I won't let him dictate my life. No matter how much I feel like I'm just as bad as him, I can't let it get in the way of having friends and a decent life."

"You're not your father," you said quietly, unsure as to why you were still entertaining this conversation.

"How would you know?"

"Because you're talking to me."

He hummed softly, "So, there, you know about me. You know something I hardly even talk about with my closest friends. Tell me about you."

You thought about it for a couple minutes, mulling over whether or not you should finally share what has hung over you your entire life. Nott remained silent as you finished your cigarette and fought an internal war within yourself. Eventually, you spoke.

"My grandfather abused me when I was young," you said quietly, "Whenever he visited, whenever I went 'round to his. In the night, he would come into my room and-" you cut yourself off.

Nott said nothing, regarding you cautiously.

"He told me not to tell. Not to say a word," you finally continued, "But I told my mum one day, because I was bleeding..." you gestured down to your crotch.

"She didn't believe you?" he asked, his tone gentle.

You chuckled, "Of course not. I tried to ask her to look, to prove that I was bleeding. She wouldn't. Said her father would never do such a thing."

"Sounds like denial."

"I'd bet my life he did the same to her when she was young, and she's blocked it out. That seeing it on me would have brought back memories that she's so desperately shut out."

He nodded.

"She told my grandfather what I'd accused him of, and my life became hell right until I got the letter inviting me to Hogwarts."

"And that's why you think telling people anything is a bad idea."

With a sigh, you stood up, "All honesty and closeness brought me was pain and suffering."

"You've just been honest with me."

"Rowena knows why," you muttered.

"You can't let him haunt you forever."

"He's still alive," you said simply, pinning your eyes on to his face, "Don't tell anyone about this."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

And, strangely, you believed him.

***

After trusting Nott with your life story, you had found a new smoke spot: it didn't have the views or tranquility of the abandoned tower, but it didn't have anyone else either. You saw him in class, and occasionally at meals, and he would always lock eyes with you and give a nod as greeting. Sometimes you returned it, sometimes you didn't. But before long, a couple months had passed, and you were quite secure in the knowledge that he hadn't told anyone your secret nor was he going to use it against you.

You didn't hesitate in signing up to stay at Hogwarts over Christmas, not wanting to face your family. When Voldemort's return had been confirmed, both your mother and grandfather— as your apparent two closest relatives— had been obliviated and sent abroad. Once he was defeated, they were found and given back their memories of you, but you hadn't gone to see them. Instead, you had stayed at Hogwarts over the Summer, helping to rebuild what had been destroyed during the battle. And now, you weren't sure if you could ever go back home. You hadn't seen either of them in years, and had become quite content with the lack of danger over the Summer holidays.

It was the first day of the castle being almost empty, and you made your way down to the Great Hall for lunch. Only one of the house tables was laid with food: the Gryffindor one. It would have been a waste to lay any more tables with so few students present.

You noticed that Nott was sat at the table, and when he saw you enter (the only one who saw you, that was), he gestured for you to sit near him. Maybe it was because he wasn't surrounded by his friends this time, or maybe it was because the food was only on one small section of the table, but you sat opposite him.

"How've you been?" he immediately asked.

Shrugging, you put some sandwiches on your plate, "Same as always."

"You stopped coming to the tower."

You sighed, "I like to smoke alone."

He pursed his lips, but changed the subject, "What are you doing on Christmas day?"

An incredulous look swept across your face, "Same as everyone here."

Nott rolled his eyes, "Even the people who are here open gifts with each other."

"I doubt I'll get any gifts."

"That makes two of us," he replied, "Do you want to do something on Christmas day together?"

"Why?" you frowned at him, "Surely Riddle is here."

He shook his head, "He spends Christmas with the Malfoys. They're cousins, y'know." At your raised eyebrow, he added, "On his mum's side."

"Regardless, I told you I'm not interested in friends."

"There is no obligation of friendship here," he raised his hands up in mock surrender, "You can never talk to me again after these holidays."

Taking in a deep breath, you said, "Fine."

He smiled at you, and you couldn't help but notice how soft and non-threatening he looked with such an expression. It was a rare sight on him.

***

Apparently he had taken your agreement to spend Christmas day with him as an agreement to spend the entire holidays together. Nott joined you for studying in the library, and followed you to your new smoke spot, making you sigh and decide at that point you might as well return to your preferred abandoned tower. He didn't talk a lot of the time, just sat in companionship with you, and you found yourself getting irritated. Not at him, but at the fact you were beginning to feel comfortable in his presence, and experience the urge to seek him out on occasion. It was a foreign feeling: one that you had never allowed yourself to come close to.

But you weren't sure if you wanted to stop it any longer.

The bubble you had become wrapped up in shattered one day when Professor McGonagall, the headmistress, found you in the library and informed you that you had visitors. You looked worriedly over at Nott, realising that for the first time in your life, you didn't want to face a situation alone. Because you had a sneaking suspicion of who it might be.

You stood up, and Nott did too. For once, you were grateful that he was following you around without your permission. McGonagall assessed that you were okay with him coming along, and led the both of you to her office, where you found yourself fidgeting with your fingers as the stairs rose up. Nott placed his hand on yours and squeezed gently before pulling away again, an action so soft and without malice that you damn near broke down on the spot.

Moments later, your fears were confirmed: your mother and grandfather stood before you. They had smiles on their faces, but they looked so forced that you felt sick to your stomach. Subconsciously, you shifted closer to Nott, who had straightened his back and let his typical resting bitch face fall upon him— one of arrogance and threat. McGonagall hadn't come in with you, saying that they wanted to speak with you alone. That was when you had said that Nott was going in with you or you weren't going in.

"Y/N, it's been so long, darling," your mother spoke, making bile rise to your mouth. You swallowed quickly, not returning her smile.

"Why didn't you come home for Christmas?" your grandfather asked, taking a step towards you. Instinctively, you stepped back. He paused and frowned, "We haven't seen you in years, but it's finally safe, is it not?"

It's never safe with you. That's what you wanted to scream, but no words came out.

"We've missed you," your mother added, also taking a step forward. You felt so small in front of them, like you were once again that heartbroken six year old who had just discovered that no one was there for her.

"And who's this?" your grandfather asked, surveying Nott cautiously.

"Theodore Nott," the boy replied through gritted teeth.

"Is this your-?"

You cut your mother off by asking, "Why are you here?"

"We've come to take you home," your grandfather said with a grin that was clearly meant to appear jovial, but to you symbolised the devil's incarnate.

"No," you said as firmly as you could, but your tone held a quiver.

The smile dropped from your grandfather's face, and he turned to Nott once more, "May we have a moment alone?"

"Not a chance," the boy instantly replied, crossing his arms. He was a lot taller than your grandfather.

That was when the eyes of your grandfather darkened to their usual state, and your mother's mouth settled into a grim line.

"I don't know what she's told you," the former spoke, "But none of it is true, she was a very imaginative child-"

Nott cut him off with a scoff, "No child who's had a normal childhood imagines such fucked up things."

Your eyes widened in disbelief at Theo's (when had you started thinking of him as Theo?) bluntness.

"My father would never do such a thing," your mother immediately cut in, "These allegations are extreme and unjust."

"I'm not coming home with you," you said, changing the subject.

"I am your mother," she said curtly, "And you are my child."

"I am an adult now."

You watched as she took a deep breath, "Y/N, we are family. Christmas is for family."

"I never want to see either of you again," you said quietly, your voice feeling separate from your body.

"We should have never let her go here," your grandfather said to your mother, "Her delusions have only been fed."

"The only delusions around here are yours," Theo said sternly, "I think it's best that you leave."

"This is none of your business, boy," the old man before you growled, taking strides towards him. In a flash, Theo had pulled out his wand and held it towards him, causing him to back up out of fear.

"I'd watch your mouth, if I were you. Y/N's welfare is every bit my business as it was meant to be yours."

Your relatives said nothing.

"I believe that everything that needed to be said has been said," he continued, "So we will be leaving. If you try to contact her in any way, shape or form again, I won't hesitate to use dark magic on you."

And with that, Theo wrapped his free arm around you and guided you back to the exit. Only once the door behind you was closed and the stairs were lowering did you realise that your entire body was trembling. All you could think to do was murmur a "thank you" towards Theo, who stroked your arm gently.

Once you reached the bottom, you were faced with McGonagall, who had a deathly serious look about her. You broke down, collapsing to the floor as tears and sobs that you had suppressed for years bubbled to the surface and shook your body violently.

"Get them out of here," Theo said to her, crouching down beside you and taking you into his arms. You accepted the embrace, having not felt one in years, and cried into his chest.

The headmistress nodded, scanning over you one last time.

"I'll take care of her," Theo muttered, and that was all the woman needed to head up the stairs with a look of fury that could ignite nations. You didn't know what she had made of the situation, but she had evidently decided that she didn't like your family. "C'mon," he murmured, helping you up and guiding you in a direction you were too bleary-eyed to register.

Your sobs escalated as the two of you walked, and finally you realised that you were heading down to the dungeons. You heard him say the password to the door before you were led into the Slytherin common room of black and green. He didn't stop there, however, instead taking you down further stairs to where the dormitories were.

It wasn't long before you found yourself curled up on his bed, the other beds in the dorm vacant for Christmas. You rocked back and forth, gripping your knees tightly.

Theo shushed you softly, sitting next to you and pulling you into his side.

"It's okay, angel, you're safe now," he whispered, "I won't let anything happen to you."

"You-" you hiccuped, "-promise?"

"I promise. You never have to see them again."

"P- Pinkie promise?" you held up your pinkie to him, and that was when Theo saw in your eyes that a part of you had never grown out of infancy.

He kissed your head, hooking his finger around yours, "Pinkie promise."

***

Numerous nightmares followed after that day— flashbacks and memories that you had blocked out catching up to you and forcing you to re-live it all. The first night, you pushed through, staying awake after waking yourself up and sobbing under your sheets until the sun came up. You didn't tell Theo why you were so exhausted when he questioned it, showing concern for you, as you didn't want to worry him. But, the second night, when you nervously drifted off and your demons returned, you snapped awake only wanting Theo.

With tears streaming down your face, you crawled out of bed and pulled on your Ravenclaw jersey, before creeping down the dormitory stairs and into the common room. There weren't many people that you could have woken up, but you really didn't want anyone seeing you in your current state. Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the tower door and left, ignoring the statue's questions of where you were headed.

It was a long trip to the Slytherin dungeons from the Ravenclaw tower, and you almost ran into Filch— luckily, you heard him from around the corner and hurriedly went a different direction. Since you were only wearing socks, your footsteps were soundless.

When you reached the portrait into Slytherin, you paused for a moment as you prayed that the password hadn't changed since he took you there two days prior. "Sonoros," you murmured to the painting, which gave you a disapproving look but reluctantly opened the door for you to enter. You scurried in, relieved to see no one was in the common room, and made your way up to the boys' dormitories. When you landed on the eighth years' floor, you pushed open the door and padded over to Theo's bed.

He was sleeping deeply, his remarkably attractive face almost glowing in the moonlight. The sight of someone sleeping reminded you of your night terrors, and more sobs choked out of you, causing you to lurch forward and shake Theo.

"Hmmph?" he grumbled, forcing his eyes open. When he saw you stood beside his bed with puffy cheeks and shaking limbs, he jolted awake. "Principessa, what happened?"

"I had a-" you hiccuped, "-a nightmare."

His gaze softened, and he lifted up the forest green bedsheets to beckon you in. Obliging, you curled up against his warmth and nuzzled your face into his neck. He didn't ask what you dreamt of, instead asking, "Is this why you didn't sleep last night?"

You nodded against him, and he sighed.

"You should have told me," he mumbled, stroking his hand through your hair. And then he talked you softly into a sweet dreamless sleep wrapped in his embrace, feeling safer than you had ever before felt.

***

At dinner the next day, Theo observed you as you picked at your food, clearly nervous about what that night had in store for you.

"Do you want to stay with me again tonight?" he asked, a question which made your eyes open wide.

"Uh..."

"You can stay with me all holiday, if you'd like."

"I..." your instinctive response was to put up your defences, and distance yourself from proximity with any individual. But, you felt the words of rejection get caught in your throat, and realised that there was a new instinct within you fighting with the old one. The part that was attaching itself to Theo, and firming itself into an iron grip that wouldn't let go now that it had finally found something to grasp on to. As the man in question gazed into your eyes, trying to read your body language, you realised that a suppressed part of you had surfaced— and you weren't sure that it could be locked away ever again. "Yes, please," were the words that finally came out: they were quiet, and felt foreign, but they were all you had to offer.

He gave you a soft smile: not the devilish smirk you had seen him give other girls from a distance, seen him use whenever he won a fight. No, it was genuine, with teeth and all. You were smiling back before you could stop yourself.

Theo eyed you curiously, "I've never seen you smile before."

Your breath hitched, "I'm not sure I've ever smiled before."

***

What commenced was a domestic routine. You kept pyjamas and some clothes in Theo's dorm, and you would brush your teeth together. Then, you would get into his bed, waiting until he beckoned for you to curl up to him. At first, you had been awkward about it, but it quickly became an instantaneous act of muscle memory. Theo felt and smelt like home— home. You had never felt at home before, and you certainly had never expected it to be with a person rather than a place. For the longest time, you had assumed that home would be the place you got for yourself after finishing Hogwarts.

Christmas Day started with a snowstorm in the middle of the night, one that had you waking up at dawn to see the layers of white outside the window. The holiday had never been a good day for you: mainly one of loneliness and a lack of gifts. You weren't materialistic, you didn't care about the presents, but that didn't mean you weren't envious of everyone going home to loving families.

But, that Christmas, you awoke in the warmth of Theo's arms, with a sense of peacefulness fulfilling you. His gentle breathing soothed you as he hugged you from behind, and for a while you remained like that, looking out the window at the snow and relishing in Theo's presence. When had he crept his way through your barriers? When had you started allowing it to happen?

"Buon Natale, principessa," you eventually heard him say from behind you, his deep morning voice sending a shiver up your spine.

"Buon Natale," you mimicked, making him smile into your neck.

"That means Merry Christmas," he murmured.

You chuckled softly, "I figured."

"I got something for you," he said, rolling on to his back, which made you turn over to face him.

"You did?"

He hummed, "It's nothing big."

"I got something for you too," you replied, knowing that there was a vinyl sat in your satchel across the room, which you had put in there on an offhand thought that Theo might like it.

"Should we exchange presents before or after Christmas dinner?"

"Before," you said immediately, "I haven't opened a present in years. I'm not waiting any longer."

"Okay, but can we stay in bed a little longer? È così caldo."

Those terms you could easily agree to— even finding yourself smiling fondly at his Italian. It always slipped out more when he was sleepy.

When had you come to know his habits so well?

***

"Merry Christmas," Theo grinned, handing a large velvet box to you as you sat cross-legged on his bed.

"What is it?" you asked cautiously, carefully popping open the lid only to have your breath taken away. A white gold necklace rested before you, with blue sapphires shining on the pendant that hung from it.

At your speechlessness, Theo explained, "It was my mother's. I thought you should have it."

"I can't take this," you said quickly, "It's a family heirloom."

He shrugged, "Then consider yourself as keeping it safe until I have a daughter."

"Is this your way of ensuring I stick around?" you chuckled.

"Maybe. Is that bad?"

You shook your head, "Thank you. It's so pretty— puts my gift to shame."

"Cara mia, it is not about the cost."

With a sigh, you got up and went over to your satchel, pulling out the vinyl that you had treasured and loved for so many years. "It's not much, but I thought you might like it."

You handed the album to him.

"What is it?"

"It is a vinyl. What muggles play music from."

His lips parted in understanding. "You will have to teach me how to use it."

"I will," you agreed, feeling like what you had actually agreed to was being around forever.

"Thank you," he said, "Would you like to try the necklace on?"

"When I'm dressed. I must do it justice."

Theo chuckled.

***

One thing you had to admit was that Theo's dead eyes sent a shiver up your spine: you felt it as he put the necklace on you, his warm hands a contrast to the cold of the metal as he did up the clasp. You were dressed up for Christmas dinner— not impressively so, but nicer than you normally did. For once, you had foregone your hoodie, and properly cleansed your face of your makeup before doing it again. Maybe the motivation for it had been Theo in the room, but ultimately, you felt quite calm.

"Sei bella," he murmured, and you knew enough Italian to know what bella meant.

You suppressed a smile, admiring his attire of dress trousers and a shirt. He lacked a tie, and the top buttons were undone— topped with his rolled up sleeves, he looked divine.

"Let's hope the dinner isn't too boring," he chuckled, "But, either way, we can have a smoke after."

"Sounds like heaven," you said, turning around to look up at his gorgeous face. A few weeks ago, you would never have let yourself find someone attractive: in your head that was as good as an attachment to someone. Yet, here you were, knowing that your soul had grasped on to Theo's and would never let go. You still had your hesitancies, but they were being overrode by your intense craving for affection.

"Should we go down?" you asked, glancing at the clock on the wall.

He hummed, "Just one more thing."

"What?"

His thumb and pointer finger delicately touched your chin, and your blood pressure skyrocketed when he leant down and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. "I couldn't resist."

You were rendered speechless— was that what a kiss was supposed to feel like? Magical, willing, heart-fluttering?

"Shall we, amore mio?"

"We shall," you smiled, accepting his extended hand.

***

The dinner was as boring as Theo had predicted, with the expected speech from McGonagall and then everyone falling into separate conversations. However, the delicious food was the saving grace, and you ate more than your stomach could handle, as well as drank a few glasses of red wine which had been provided for the professors and the adult students.

But, the highlight of your day was when you and Theo smoked in the usual tower spot, remaining in a soothing silence as you watched the snow fall.

"Can we build a snowman?" you asked, putting out your butt on the stone wall.

He quirked an eyebrow at you, "Why?"

"I've never built one," you muttered, wanting to rekindle the childhood joy that you had never truly experienced.

"Well, then, I hope you've got thick gloves."

***

"He's so ugly," you commented, staring at the snowman before you. He had a carrot on his face, courtesy of the kitchen, and a variety of stones creating a disturbingly fake happy expression. You turned around to where Theo had been stood next to you, only to see that he was gone. "Theo?" you called out, spinning around to find him when you felt a thud of something against your back.

When you looked in the direction of the throw, you saw the man you had been looking for laughing and gathering up snow into a ball.

"You son of a bitch," you cursed, leaning down and accumulating some snow of your own. Immediately you let fire, hitting him right in the chest.

"Oh, it's on!" he shouted back— the trigger for ten minutes running around and hurtling snow at each other until you tripped. Only, you found yourself laughing as you hit the ground, flopping into a starfish position as Theo dashed over to you. "Are you okay, principessa?"

You sat up and tugged on his leg, making him topple over too. "I'm perfectly okay."

"Clearly," he groaned, propping himself up on one arm to gaze at you.

"I think I won this one."

Theo rolled his eyes, "If my lips weren't so numb, I'd kiss you right now."

Your lips parted in shock, making him laugh.

"And I won that one," he said, "Can we go inside before we freeze, please?"

And when you and Theo were cuddled up in front of the fire with hot cups of tea, you knew that your isolated life was no more, and you had almost fully let go of your reservations about forming attachments.

***

Bliss can only last so long, of course, and the horde of students returned early January with their trunks and chatter in tow. You reluctantly returned to your Ravenclaw dormitory, knowing sleep would be difficult after growing accustomed to the comfort of Theo's arms.

But you had no choice.

Still, as you walked down the hallways alone for the first time in two weeks, your hood over your head and eyes cast down, you felt lonely. You had never felt lonely before— well, maybe in part. But your fear of knowing someone and being close had overrode the loneliness: your phobia of being hurt again had made you view loneliness as a comfort. It didn't feel like a comfort any longer, not now that you had tasted Theodore Nott and all that came with him. Not now that he had shown you good intentions and security.

"Y/N!" you heard a call from behind you.

You spun around, feeling a smile tug on your lips as you recognised the voice. That was another thing Theo had brought you: smiles that came naturally, like a flower blooming because it had been nurtured and nourished to perfection, not in spite of its environment.

"There you are, principessa," he murmured, pulling you into his embrace, "I haven't seen you since last night."

"It's not that long," you shrugged, but you had missed him too.

"Too long," he said, taking your hand in his, "I could hardly sleep without you. Kept worrying about your nightmares."

Your face dropped, and that told Theo everything he needed to know.

"You had one, didn't you?"

With a dismissive nod, you turned and began walking down the corridor with him, "It was nothing. I'm fine."

"You promise you'd tell me if you weren't?"

"I'm always fine when I'm with you," you said quietly, "I wasn't fine last night, or this morning, but now you're here— I'm fine."

His eyes softened at your words, and he squeezed your hand. "Let's get some lunch."

***

When you entered the Great Hall, you felt Theo tugging you over to the Slytherin table where his friends were gathered. You swallowed your anxiety and shifted closer to him, deciding that as long as you had Theo as protection, these people couldn't hurt you.

They didn't notice either of you until you sat down.

"Theo! Where have you been?" Mattheo Riddle asked, his eyes then flicking to you, "Oh, it's you again... L/N, right?"

You nodded the affirmative.

"Who?" the girl next to him, Pansy Parkinson, asked.

"The girl Theo's been courting."

"I didn't know Theo was courting anyone," Lorenzo Berkshire frowned.

"Are you in the year below?" Pansy turned to you.

"No. I'm in your year."

Her eyes widened, "Salazar, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," you said. And, really, it was. You were used to it.

"Are you official, then?" Mattheo questioned, changing the subject effectively.

"Yes," Theo replied, before you could even process what Mattheo had just asked.

"Never thought I'd see the day where you settled down," Blaise Zabini chuckled.

"Just hadn't met the right girl yet."

Your heart flipped.

***

"Sorry about that earlier," Theo said to you later at the smoke spot, "I figured it was the only way to not make the situation awkward."

"Sorry about what?"

"Saying we're official."

"Oh."

Theo quirked an eyebrow, "Unless you're not sorry?"

You pursed your lips, "Maybe I'm not."

He grinned, "Then allow me to ask you officially, cara mia, will you be my girlfriend?"

"I want to," you took a deep breath, "But, I just— certain things are going to take some time for me. I— I will need easing into things like, uh..."

"Sex?" he finished for you.

Shamefully, you bobbed your head.

"Of course, we will take all the time you need," he smiled, moving closer to you to place a hand on your cheek, "I'm not in it for the sex. I'm in it because ti amo."

"I think I love you too."

"I'm here for you always, amore mio. I promise."

"Pinkie promise?"

"Pinkie promise."

——————————————————

masterlist

written; 04/05/2024 —> 22/05/2024 published; 26/05/2024 edited; —/—/——

[whumpster-dumpster]

Smol Whumpee who loves loves loves Tol Caretaker's big breathless pressure stim hugs that squeeze the stuffing out of them and fill it all with warmth and love. Smol Whumpee who's now been found so beaten and broken that Tol Caretaker has to handle them like glass, no matter how desperately they want to hold them tight and never let go again. It won't really feel like a reunion until they're healed enough to do so, if they can heal

[babygorewhore]

Safety

Rafe Cameron x fem reader

After a night of horrors with your ex-boyfriend, Sarah finds you pregnant, beaten and bruised on the street. She takes you to Rafe, someone you used to have a crush on in high school and he swears to protect you and your baby girl. W.C almost 3k

Hiiiiii so I NEVER thought in a million years I’d write pregnancy but I was heavily inspired by the movie The Invisible Man! And this is also in honor of my princess, @oceandriveab who has officially made me obsessed with Dad!Rafe. I hope you love baby!!! Dividers by @xxbimbobunnyxx I’m also very nervous because I’ve never had a baby but I have been in an abusive relationship so I hope you find comfort!

Warnings! Reader’s ex boyfriend is abusive! Talks of abuse! Reader is briefly attacked by him! Brief violence! Fingering! Choking! Unprotected sex! Non graphic description of childbirth! Daddy kink! Angst! Hurt comfort! Happy ending!!

You sat on the concrete sidewalk, trembling as rain trickled on your body as you hugged your middle. Your baby shifted around in your stomach, recently finding out the gender a few weeks ago. It was a girl. You named her Jennifer after one of your favorite movies. “I won’t go back, baby…” you whispered to your rounded belly and started crying.

A voice called your name, getting your attention and you saw Sarah Cameron rushing towards you with concern in her dark eyes. “Hey, are you okay? What are you doing out here alone?” She gasped when she finally took in your appearance as you shifted on the ground.

Your clothes torn, bruises on your face, arms and even your stomach. “Oh god..did he-did your boyfriend do this to you?” You didn’t respond and she wrapped your arm around her shoulder. She helped you stand. “Here. Come on. I’ll take you to Rafe’s house.”

His name caught your attention as she helped you in the passenger seat. “Rafe? What about your house?”

“You know my brother. He’s always had a soft spot for you. You’ll be safe there. No arguments.” She sternly told you and you didn’t have the energy to argue.

You used to babysit Sarah and Wheezie while you were in school. You were over at their house all the time and you didn’t complain considering your crush on her older brother Rafe. But he was always too busy partying to notice you at the time and eventually you met your current boyfriend Jake.

It was the worst mistake of your life.

You arrived at Rafe’s large house, wincing as Sarah tried to help you out of the car but you tearfully spoke, “I can’t move.”

“Wait here. Don’t worry,” she rushed inside and you felt pangs of heartbreak. Here you were, being rescued by someone you used to care for. seconds later, you saw Rafe rushing out with her, jogging towards the car. He was still wearing his work clothes, dampening from the rain.

“Hey, come on,” Without warning, he scooped you in his arms bridal style and carried you in the house. His warm, strong embrace soothed your chilled body as he maneuvered through his living room and set you on the couch.

“There you go…good girl,” he mumbled under his breath, his eyes roaming over your injuries and ripped clothes. His jaw tightened when he noticed the bruises, especially on your protruding stomach. You placed your hand over it, feeling your baby kick underneath your palm.

“What happened? What the fuck did he do to you?” His question brought on more tears and you buried your head in your hands, shoulders shaking.

You felt palms on your arms as you sobbed.

“Can you-get her some clothes or something? She’s fucking freezing!” Rafe fussed at Sarah and gestured with his hand rapidly. “Get something of mine!”

“Um why don’t you do it?” Sarah hissed and Rafe gave her a death glare. “Fine.” She walked off as he gently tugged your hands off your face.

“I never liked that guy. Knew he was up to trouble and now he put his hands on you?” His blue gaze was murderous as he stared at your stomach.

“I didn’t think-I didn’t think he’d hurt her. I didn’t think he’d go that far.” You breathed rapidly and shrieked as thunder clapped across the sky, the loud sound reminded you of your boyfriend’s voice.

Time passed and you sat at the table with Sarah and Rafe. You wore one of his shirts, after taking a warm shower. It was loose around your torso and comfortable around your middle. Sarah also fixed you something to eat, anything to satisfy your needs considering Rafe’s clean diet.

Your hair was lightly damp, braided from Sarah’s nimble fingers and you stared off in the distance as they both watched you. Waiting for you to speak. But Rafe grew impatient.

“When I find him, I’ll kill him.” He said simply and you flinched. “You don’t have to worry about anything. You can stay here. Are you in pain? Are you-fuck I don’t know any pregnant girls-do you-“

“I didn’t know he switched my birth control pills.” You whispered, making Rafe’s mouth close. “I had been taking them secretly. He was obsessed with…trapping me with a baby. He figured I’d never be able to leave then. Jake controlled everything. What I did. What I said and eventually, she happened.” You look down at your stomach. “But if he didn’t like what I did, he would…” you trailed off.

“Hit you?” Sarah answered softly and you grimaced.

“Among other things.” Rafe stood out of his chair, making your head snap in his direction and he started to pace. “I ran from him this morning. He went crazy last night. I thought he wouldn’t stop. I didn’t know what he’d do and I couldn’t let him hurt her again.”

“He won’t.” Rafe growled. “No one is going to hurt you. Ever again. I’ll make sure of it. I’m seconds away from-“ He was breathing heavily but he seemed to swallow back his rage enough to calm down at the sight of your discomfort.

“Let’s get you to bed.” He doesn’t give you the option and he lifts you into his arms. Your feet dangle as he carries you up the stairs to his spare room.

Instead of setting you down, Rafe lays your body on the bed and adjusts the blankets over you. His hands ghosting over your stomach before he pulls them away. “If you need anything-yell for me-I’m right down the hall.” You nod silently and he hesitates, trying to search for something to say.

“He won’t hurt you again. I won’t let him.” He turns but you have a surge of emotions and grab his arm.

“Rafe. Will you stay with me? Just for tonight. Please, when I sleep alone-I dream about him and I can feel his fists on me,” Without a second thought, Rafe climbs into bed with you and his taller body tucks himself next to yours.

You didn’t speak but your eyes drifted closed. Exhaustion taking over your body and your head moved to rest on his shoulder. He stiffened briefly before his arm wrapped around you, hand cupping your waist.

Rafe helped you-well insisted that you tell the police about your ex-boyfriend. And you did, even gaining a restraining order. It was vital you did that for another important reason the longer you stayed away from him. A month in a half had passed, in the state of your pregnancy, you needed regular doctor appointments. Rafe also was insistent on you seeing the best in the city and he took you to all of them.

But for the most part, you hid away in the bedroom. Shame, guilt and terror keeping you a prisoner. Rafe hadn’t slept next with you since that first night even though you desperately craved it. Everything was a mess.

You were tired of being in here though. You missed your old self. Rafe did so much for you and you wanted somehow to repay him. You had an idea, you could cook something for him. A nice meal when he gets home from work. Straightening your back, you managed to walk down the stairs and to the kitchen.

As you fixed something to eat, you were then startled fifteen minutes later by a knock on the door. You assumed it was one of his sisters, the only two who knew you were there but you couldn’t have been more wrong when you opened the entrance.

It was Jake.

The dark look in his eye sent chills down your spine and you tried to slam the door shut but his strength easily overpowered yours. “It’s time to come home,” He whispers lowly and you shake your head.

“Never. Get out!” You screamed and tried to run but he reached for your hair. Yanking you back as you struggled, trying to grab whatever you could and stabilize yourself.

“You will never get away from me. You shouldn’t have run away like a fucking coward!” He bellowed and you clawed at him.

The attack was short lived as you felt his grip yanked off and you crumbled to the floor. You twisted to see Rafe slamming your ex to the wall, his fist pummeling into his face repeatedly. His expression was morphed into blind rage as your ex’s eyes, nose and mouth bled. You finally croaked, “Rafe! Stop!” He didn’t and you said it again louder, getting his attention.

He jerked his head towards you, nostrils flared from seeing your body on the ground. “Call the police.” He ordered and you pulled out your phone but you could still hear his threat as you called.

“If you ever mess with my girls again, I will fucking kill you. She and the baby belong here. With me. if I ever THINK I see you, I will kill you. Do you understand? You touch her and you fucking die.” You trembled as you waited for the police to arrive as Rafe held him down.

After his arrest and his removal from the home, you rushed towards Rafe, wrapping your arms around his waist. “I’m sorry-I had no idea he’d just show up. I was so scared this would happen-“ He quickly places a finger against your lips, stopping your tangent.

“Are you okay? Is the baby okay?” His hand drifted down but he stopped himself. He always did and this time you encouraged his hand to press against your belly.

He sharply inhaled as Jennifer kicked and you smiled. “She likes you,” You told him, your anxiety lessening as the moment went on.

“Did you really name her after Jennifer’s body?” Rafe asked, a playful tone in contrast to the earlier violence.

“It’s my favorite movie,” You laughed loudly. Rafe lowered his head.

“I like that sound. Haven’t heard it in a really long time.” His lips brushed against your forehead and you leaned into his touch.

“I thought he was going to kill me one day, Rafe. He’s gotten so close and when I saw him I was so scared.”

Rafe’s large hands cupped your face and he looked you directly in your watery eyes. “Listen to me, baby. I promised you he would never hurt you again and I meant it. I know he fucked you up but you don’t have to be scared here. You’re both safe with me. As long as you want.”

“I tried to cook for you and he showed up. I just wanted to do something nice for you,” You shrugged and looked away but he wasn’t having that.

“Stop. Stop worrying. It’s not good for you or the baby.” You smiled again and you leaned up, meaning to kiss his cheek but Rafe met your lips with his instead.

His deep kiss poured all his emotions, something he didn’t express with words and you met his pace with your hands cupping his sharp jawline. It had been so long since you’d genuinely kissed someone you cared about and you melted into his chest. Rafe’s hands dipped to pick you up, backing you both up to the living room where he had set up body pillows on the couch for you.

Your hands hold his neck as his feverish kiss consumes you, your back presses against the cushion as he hovers above you. Rafe pants and looks down at you with desperate eyes. “Princess-fuck I want you so bad but I don’t-“ You shake your head and pull him back down, sucking his bottom lip your legs separating as your panties dampen.

“I won’t hurt you?” He mumbles against your lips and you smile.

“No, baby. Never.” You promise him as he nods and peppers kisses on your neck, sucking the skin between the crook of your collarbone and shoulder.

His hands drift and he massages your swollen tits. “I fuckin love these, baby doll. You’re so pretty, making me hard all the time. Had to always take care of myself when I was alone.”

“Me too.” You whine and arch your back when he pulls down your shirt, circling his tongue around your nipple before sucking it.

“Yeah? You played with your wet pussy thinking about me, princess?” He mumbles against your chest and pays attention to the left one.

“Mhm, all the time. I wanted you to fuck me-“You confess and moan as he nips your sensitive tits.

“That’s my girl. But you’ll never have to go without again. You can fuck me whenever you want, suck me in with that pretty pussy.” Rafe pulls off your comfortable skirt and underwear, the soaked material tossed to the side as his thick fingers massage your clit. “You’re so wet for me, doll. Is this what you needed? Your mind emptied?”

You gasp and grip his shoulders as he slips two fingers inside you, curling them deep as the back of his hand continues bumping your clit. “Don’t tease me-please-“

Rafe can’t resist your pleas as he yanks off his belt, pants and shoves his boxers down. His cock slaps against his thigh as he pumps himself a few times, he brings your legs over his shoulders and slides in. “Fuckkk, you’re so fuckin tight, princess. I’m gonna plug you up with my cum, daddy’s gonna make you scream.”

You throw your head back as he pounds into you, the couch moves and your peak rises. A month of build up tension making you burst as you shriek as Rafe presses your legs even higher. Reaching a deeper spot in your cunt as you cream on his dick, his hand wraps around your neck as he fucks you through it.

“You look so pretty when you cum on my cock, princess. Never gonna let you go,” He groans and releases in you, his cum drips down his balls and pours from your cunt. You hiccup as he lets go of your throat, eyes fluttering as he continues to rock his hips.

Rafe moves your legs off his shoulders, pressing your knees together. “Not gonna let one drop escape. You are all mine, baby girl.”

You manage to let out a breathy, “Yes, daddy.” As a slight twinge of discomfort causes your back to ache, he sees it in your face and quickly adjusts himself. “You okay? Need me to help you?”

“Sorry, Rafe. I think she’s unhappy with me right now,” You laugh a little as he pulls his underwear back up and moves the pillow under your back. “That’s better,” You begin and your words leave you as Rafe dips down and presses a gentle kiss to your stomach.

“Can I talk to her?” You nod with wide eyes. Rafe clears his throat, his hands cupping your round belly.

“Uh, hey there. I know I’m not technically your father but I just want you to know that…I’m gonna take care of you and your mommy. Gonna fight all the bad guys, okay? I’m gonna be a better dad than my old man was.” His promise brings tears to your eyes and he leans up to cup your cheeks.

“I mean every fuckin word, baby. You never have to worry about that again.” You wrap your bare arms around him, your belly a slight barrier but he holds you tightly against him.

The last trimester of your pregnancy was decent with a few brutal moments. Your little girl growing in you made you feel constantly exhausted so you slept almost all the time. Rafe catered to your limits, taking it upon himself to create a temporary sleeping area in the living room because you couldn’t tolerate going upstairs. Your ex boyfriend was going to be in jail for a long time, bringing you a lot of relief enough to let you finally leave the house to go with Rafe. He went crazy with the baby supplies, going overboard but you loved his dedication.

He was also fiercely protective. He was willing to smack hands off your stomach if they weren’t wanted, or bark orders if you were feeling sick. Rafe loved reading to your daughter every night while you drifted asleep. He kept photos of the sonograms in his wallet and on his desk at work. And when your water broke, a week after your due date, he nearly panicked as he rushed you to the hospital.

While you were in labor, he was a little concerned you would snap the bones in his hands as you wailed and screamed. “I can’t do this!” You wept, sweat pooling down your face. “I swear to god, I’m never doing this again!” You yelled at him while you pushed.

“I know, baby but you can do it. She’s almost here, come on. You’re my strong girl, come on.” He coached and you squeezed his hand harder.

“If you ever get me pregnant-if I ever go through this again, I swear!” You promised in the middle of your agony before pushing harder and then the relief was immediate.

Your daughter was crying and then you both sobbed. The nurses placed her in your arms as you were speechless. She was perfect. Better than you could ever dream of. Rafe couldn’t hold it together as he was pressed against you. “That’s our girl…”You said in complete awe.

You extended her to Rafe and he cradled her gently, stroking her cheek. “Hi baby…I’m-“He choked on his words. “I’m your dad.”

It wasn’t a perfect story. It had a horrible beginning and you’d never be able to erase the memories of your past. But seeing Rafe with your child? You knew it was all worth it.

Tagging @marchsfreakshow @drewstarkeyslut @rafescurtainbangz @rafesthroatbaby @gri959 @voyeurmunson @starkeysprincess @rafeinterlude @redhead1180 @slvt4jamesmarch