#3) he’s already scared before he drops it like he keeps pausing it looks like he’s lost

[scretladyspider]

catocinephiles

the paris catacombs are 1000x more fucked up than i imagined

[leighsartworks216]

Scar Tissue

Sylus x gn!Reader

Eyyyyy @comatosebunny09 I finally finished it >:3

Based on this post

Title from "Scar Tissue" by Red Hot Chili Peppers

Warnings: cuddling, early relationship, intimacy, injury, guns, knives, semi-nudity

Word Count: 2,421

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

The Raven Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

“Speak.”

The generic carpet muffles his footfalls as he crosses the room to the oversized floor to ceiling windows that peer out over Chansia City. You follow behind him until you get to the dresser, lined neatly with your clothes.

The hotel is very nice, especially high up here in the presidential suite. Though, you haven’t had much time to actually enjoy it. You got here yesterday, and it feels like all you’ve had time for is sleeping and getting dressed. It’s all been meetings, deals and exchanges otherwise. The only reason you’re back here at all is to change clothes to go to dinner with another client.

Sylus sighs, irritation painting his face with a scowl. You can just barely hear Luke’s voice on the other end. They’ve been holding down the N109 Zone in Sylus’s absence. “More petty land grabs?”

“Nah, from what we’ve heard it sounds like an affair came to light and now they’re duking it out to win their love.”

You snicker as you pull out a clean shirt. You turn and drop it on the bed, back to Sylus as you take off your shirt, bloody and torn from your earlier meeting. He turns to shoot you a half-amused half-annoyed glance over his shoulder. “Have Mephisto-”

But the words get stuck in his throat. Time seems to slow down as he stares at the bare expanse of your back. Your skin looks like a well-used cutting board. Scar after scar, criss-crossing over each other, fundamentally altering the appearance of your flesh for years to come.

He can pinpoint which were from missions he’d sent you on. Jobs that put you in the line of fire, where you had to fight your way out to survive, where someone got a surprise jump on you.

Others are completely foreign. Cuts and bullet wounds and burn marks, all unfamiliar to him. What secrets from your past do you keep locked away from him? How safe are you from the ones that hurt you? Would you ever tell him if something was wrong? If something cropped up from back then, from a time he’d never know enough of? Perhaps not.

Somehow, the former was worse. Knowing he was the one that sent you into trouble. Or those damn injuries you earned from taking a hit intended for him. Being the root cause for your pain aches more than never knowing the damage you incurred before.

You slip your shirt on, hiding the marks from view, and peek over your shoulder at him, confused by his silence. Time speeds back up.

He schools his features into something neutral, hiding the regret and hurt, and burying it deep down within him. He looks out the windows once more. Luke asks if he’s alright. Sylus ignores it, speaking as if nothing ever happened.

-

Dinner was dull, for the most part. The client didn’t seem to understand that you weren’t there for conversation, repeatedly prompting you to answer questions. You’d have signaled Sylus to put the man in his place, but it was all too amusing to see him flounder.

“What kind of gun do you use?” You’d slipped it from its holder mid sip of wine and dropped it onto the table with a heavy thud. That’d taken him by surprise. He recovered quickly enough, spewing off facts about the make and model that you already knew.

“Has it been modified?” You broke it down and separated the parts that had been replaced or enhanced. He’d curiously reached out to inspect them, but you put it back together before he could touch anything. He paused, but put on a slightly strained, polite smile as he awkwardly sat back in his chair.

“How good is your aim?” You shot the end of his cigarette when he went to tap the ashes into a dish, scaring him so bad he shook the entire table and had to rapidly keep his drink from tipping into his lap.

He seemed content to leave you be after that.

You fall back into the bed, arms spread out wide and still in your dinner attire. Sylus chuckles. “Have fun?” he teases. He sits down beside you, leaning on his arm with an amused grin.

You shoot an unimpressed glare his way. Fabric rustles as you slide your hand along the bed to hold his arm, caressing the tensed muscles of his forearm. “Don’t worry, you can make it up to me.”

His grin turns into a salacious smirk. You smack his bicep. “Not like that.”

“You don’t know what I was going to suggest.” Nonetheless, he kicks off his shoes by the side of the bed and lays down beside you. With one hand acting as a pillow, the other rests comfortably on your stomach. You wrap your arm around his neck to play with his hair. Content, you close your eyes.

The last vestiges of the sun filter through the window. Combined with the few lights in the room, you look… peaceful. It’s starting to become a common sight, and he takes great pleasure in being the one allowed to witness it. These times when you trust him enough to relax. When you stop listening out for the slightest hint of danger. When your body releases the tension constantly preparing your body for an attack. It’s a privilege. He hopes never to take it for granted.

Your fingers flit lazily through his hair. His body still tenses on the onset of your touch. His natural instinct yells for him to pull away, go on the defensive, protect himself. It’s always a battle to fight against them and allow himself to completely trust someone. As this - cuddling together, the small moments of physical intimacy and skinship - become the normal, the fight gets easier and easier.

He wonders if that same defensive instinct wars on in your head when he slips his hand under the hem of your shirt. The first brush of his fingers on your flesh, the flinch of muscle away from the contact, that eases back into his touch after a pause. If it does, you say nothing of it. Rather, when your stomach flinches away, you tug on his hair. An equal exchange. And perhaps a reminder of the lengths you have both gone to expose yourselves to each other.

Calloused fingertips dance across your belly, hidden by the fabric of your shirt. Soft ridges and toughened skin of layers of damage done across the years. His mind is shot back to the thoughts he had earlier. You can feel the shift in his touch. The way his fingers lift to barely ghost over your skin, as though you’re as thin and fragile as wet tissue paper. You open your eyes to watch him.

His face is stern. Like when discussing a difficult deal, his brow is furrowed and his eyes are dark. He slowly pushes up the shirt until it rests in a rumpled heap around the bottom of your ribcage. The shift in your breathing latches on at the edge of his senses. Just as with your back, scar after scar decorates your skin. But one stands out from the rest.

Along the line of your hip is a cut. It’s shallow. The skin it tore apart is irritated from lack of care and not having a moment to rest properly.

That’s his fault, too. Dragging you out to a dinner you didn’t really want to go to instead of giving you the opportunity to sleep and heal. Technically, you’re his bodyguard - his guard dog, always by his side, defending him from anyone who you deem a threat. Yet, he’s discomfited by just how quickly you step in to protect him. That’s what this scar is the result of.

The meeting this morning. A fight broke out. He was aiming a gun at the other group leader. One of their lackeys came up from the side with a knife. And you got hit. It had bled, but you’d brushed him off so easily when he mentioned it. You weren’t doubled over, nor were you in a rush to patch it up, so he trusted your judgement. Without a second thought.

Fortunately, your judgement is dependable. All it really needs is a bandage to keep the skin together and bacteria out while it heals, and yet he doesn’t get up. He doesn’t move. All he does is trace alongside it, feeling how it becomes intertwined with the scars before it.

“You need to take better care of yourself,” he says, but the tone of his voice is odd. Teasing, edged with something raw. Something more vulnerable. Something that you two have been dancing around for weeks. “Tell me the next time you’re hurt. I’ll patch you up.”

You brush the hair from his face. His red eyes shift first to the bunched up fabric of your shirt, then to yours. His eyes are soft. The deep maroon of before has melted into a bloody crimson.

“I can patch myself up.”

He scoffs with a smirk and the slight tilt of his head. “I wasn’t asking, sweetie.”

You quirk a brow up at him. “Does it bother you?”

“Yeah,” he agrees readily.

Your fingers falter. He brushes his thumb more firmly along the edge of the cut, still light enough that it doesn’t hurt, but with enough force that it no longer feels like he’s treating you like something fragile.

You frown at him, tapping three times at the base of his skull, a silent request for more information. He pushes himself up onto his elbow. It should be salacious, even intimidating, for him to hover over you like this. But it’s not.

His eyes follow his hand as he traces other marks on your belly. A bullet entrance wound here, a Wanderer’s blade there. The ones he caresses are newer. They haven’t yet faded into your skin. Of all of them, he’d only helped treat one or two. Some, he never even knew about, but he could trace back to when, what mission, they were received from.

“How many of these are from protecting me?” he asks lowly. “You do realize I can heal from all of these much faster than you can, don’t you, sweetie?”

You tilt your head. “It bothers you… that I do my job?”

He chuckles, but the mirth doesn’t reach his eyes. “You could stand to be a little less efficient at it.”

The world falls quiet. The sun disappears, leaving darkness in her wake. The orange glow of the hotel lamps forms mountains and valleys along your skin. You study him, searching for answers.

Over your lifetime struggling to survive, you’d gotten good at reading people, Sylus included. Of course, he had broken your assumptions and expectations. If he hadn’t, you’d never have let him get so close. Never have allowed him to touch you like this, see your skin like this.

Right now, you can’t understand him.

He hired you to be his bodyguard, to protect him. To be his own personal shield when shit hits the fan. But he doesn’t want you to? A lingering fear in your mind worries for the end of your partnership. Would he really touch you like this if he wanted to fire you? Besides, when you made the damn deal, he said only you would have the power to call it off. He wasn’t someone to go against his word.

You drop your hand from his hair. His eyes snap to you, a flicker of fear that is snuffed out when you touch his chest. He’s still wearing his nice dress shirt, jacket discarded elsewhere. You play with one of the buttons. “How many times have you stepped in to protect me?” you ask.

Countless times. More and more frequently.

“Do you let any of them scar?”

He slowly shakes his head. It’s always second nature for him to use his Evol to take care of any and all injuries. Anything that could scar is gone before he has a chance to think about it, so long as he’s in the right conditions to use it.

“Then you can’t understand.”

He hums. “Enlighten me.”

You grin. Gliding your hand from his chest, down his arm, you hold the back of his where it rests on your stomach. It doesn’t take much effort to guide him. He watches, feels the scars that scrape by, as you bring it back back down to your hip, until his palm rests over the cut. It will heal within a couple of weeks, probably less. Once it’s healed, it will scar over. Once it scars over, it will be nothing more than a lasting memory embedded in your skin.

“They’re badges,” you say quietly. When he looks back up at you, you’re watching his hand, trailing your fingertips over the veins that decorate them. “I earned them from protecting you.”

So why would I not want them?

It goes unsaid, but he catches it anyway in the gentle reverence of your carress, the quirk of your brow when you look at him wordlessly asking if he can understand now. It doesn’t need to be said.

He slips his hand out from under yours. The bed shifts with his weight as he turns and gets up. You feel the loss immediately. It’s easy to hide the disappointment, but it churns over in your gut, more distinctly than you’ve ever felt it before, as he disappears around the corner of the wall. Did he really hate them so much?

He returns a minute later when you’re considering fixing your shirt with a medkit in hand. He sits on his knees, sets the kit down beside your body, and opens it up to get what he needs. The disinfectant stings as he wipes it along the cut, but you hardly feel it when he just looks so beautiful. So focused on taking care of you.

“Tell me when you're hurt,” he reminds you. He unspools a length of gauze and wraps it around your midsection securely. He glances at you with a slight grin as he grabs a roll of bandages from the kit. “They won’t scar well if they get infected first.”

A week later, you’re the one patching him up. He sits calmly on the couch as you draw a needle through the skin of his bicep. It’s just a knife wound. Earned from stepping in to protect you.

He can’t wait to see the scar.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip

[sugrhigh]

BOY NEXT DOOR 3 - ( c.s )

part two

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- swearing, a bit of drinking

neighbor/hockey!chris x fem!reader

a/n: part three baby here we go! hope you guys enjoy!! if i forgot a tag it either wouldn’t let me or i missed it (if i missed u pls comment and i’ll fix it right up). anyways kisses for u all i hope ur having a good day, my inbox is open for anything as always MWAH

@cutenote @mattybsbitch @mattsmunch @breeloveschris @l9vesick @bb-1s-blog @sturnifyed @julessspoetry @annamcdonalds67 @beijhe @gnxosblog @braindead4l @hearts4matty @orangeypepsi @luckistar-posts @angelworldspost @ponyosturniolo @rainyenthusiastdaze @heartz4chris @sturnvvz @cupidsword @wurlibydominicfike @mattswrld @yoursopretty15 @poopydroopt @latinasforchrizz @bernardsleftbootycheek @trilliwarner

it’s been a day since the kiss, and you still haven’t told a single soul. for some reason, you’re way too scared to admit what happened to your roommates, even though you know they’d be the last to judge you for it.

and yet you just can’t, despite the fact that it’s been eating you alive for over twenty-four hours straight. saying it out loud makes it real, so you decided it was best to keep it inside.

however, you still need to give chris his jersey back, which you’ve been neglecting to do because you don’t want to see him.

or maybe because you’re scared.

it’s an involuntary thought, and it makes you angry. there’s nothing to be scared of, because he doesn’t have any power over you.

right?

you grab his jersey off the top of your dresser. it’s all clean, and it still smells like detergent from when you washed it yesterday. you’ve been putting it off all day, and it’s time for that to stop.

the sun is nearly gone, so you head down the stairs, silently thankful that ramona and cassidy are both are both runnings errands as you slip out the front door.

you’re in your comfy clothes, black sweats and baby blue hoodie that you stole from cass, and you’re immediately regretting the fact that you didn’t grab a jacket.

you hurry across the lawn, passing the cars parked in the driveway. there’s an unfamiliar red one at the end, and it almost makes you pause, but the possibility doesn’t fully connect in your mind yet.

so you head up the steps and knock on the door loudly, still very much so a woman on a mission.

it takes a moment, a long moment, before someone comes to open it for you. it’s connor, which is unfortunate, because you really weren’t prepared to speak with anyone besides the one boy you’re actually looking for.

he looks a little confused, but he smiles nonetheless. “what’s up?”

“i’m just, uh, trying to drop off chris’s jersey.” any bit of confidence you had is gone now as you choke on your words.

connor’s eyes widen a little as his grin fades, though you can tell he’s trying to play it off. “he’s a little busy right now, but i’ll get it to him.”

your eyebrows furrow as he reaches his arms out, like he’s trying to rush the process along without any more interrogation.

“busy with what?” you question, though you hand it over regardless.

he looks at you for just a half a second too long, like he’s waiting for you to piece it together, and then it clicks. chris is busy because he has a girl over, and that’s her car in the driveway.

you wish it didn’t phase you, but you can feel your face morphing into an emotion that borders disgust and anger.

“oh, i see.” is all you say, because you’re already fucking embarrassed beyond belief.

you turn and head back down the stairs, trying to ignore the way your stomach is flipping like you’re going to throw up.

connor doesn’t say anything. instead you hear the door close, and you feel completely numb as you walk back to your own porch. part of it is because of the cold, and part of it is because you feel so stupid.

you’re not sure what you were expecting, but that was exactly what you should’ve anticipated knowing chris.

you step back into the warmth of your own home, and even when you close and lock the door, a shiver chases you.

you head back up to your bedroom, kicking your shoes off by the door. you want further confirmation, so you peek through the curtains that hang over your window.

chris’s room, which is coincidentally directly across from yours, reveals nothing besides a dim light that peeks through the closed blinds.

you let the drapes fall back into place, still in shock. it was so ridiculous to believe for even a second that he was any different than he had been for the last six months.

you should’ve taken him at his word. he doesn’t date, and he’s not interested in you beyond teasing you or making you look like an idiot.

and you refuse to be taken for a fool.

you pace along the floor for a second until you decide you deserve some wine. you know there’s at least half a bottle in the fridge, and maybe it’ll help you calm the hell down.

a few minutes later you’re back upstairs, huddled up in your bed with a book you had started earlier in the day, sipping from your glass as you read.

it’s hard to fall into the fantasy world you picked out at first, but then you begin to feel your cheeks flush and your eyes are suddenly devouring the words.

you’re so enveloped in the plot, completely unaware that your roommates had gotten home until ramona walks in. it startles you, so much so that you lose your page.

she pauses to take in your state; the empty glass, the minimal leftovers in the bottle you brought with you, your droopy eyes.

“wine before 7 p.m. on the lord’s day? you’re crazy.” she jokes with a grin.

you shrug, also smiling a little bit. “felt like getting a little wild.”

mona puts a hand on her hip and nods toward the door she just entered through. “well, could i maybe convince you to take this crazy train downstairs so we can catch up on VPR? we’re like, three episodes behind now.”

you snap your book closed and roll out of bed, which you can tell by her snort looks far from graceful.

“all you had to say was VPR.”

you sit at your desk, gnawing on your bottom lip as you try to focus on the stupid online homework prompts that are due soon. the overcast afternoon light pours into your room, and you hear your phone buzz against the wood.

chris

still playing hard to get?

you roll your eyes before you can help it. the text doesn’t surprise you, because he’s been messaging you for the past few days, ever since he inevitably found out you stopped by from connor.

chris

that’s clearly a yes.

you wonder how many times he’s going to text you as you put your phone down to pull your hair out of your face, tying it up at the back of your head.

once again, you hear the device vibrate, and you flip it to glance at the screen.

chris

i can see you ignoring me you know

your eyes betray you as you glance out the window, just to find chris standing in front of his own. he’s pouting at you with his phone in his hand, hair all curly and damp like he just got out of the shower.

you stand up from your chair without a second thought and take a few steps so you can yank your curtains closed.

he might refuse to believe it, but you’re not playing hard to get. you just can’t fucking stand him.

chris

now that’s just cold

come onnnnnn princess

y/n

holy shit

do NOT call me princess

chris

you love it

y/n

i hate you

chris

if you don’t stop this i’m coming over there

y/n

i’d like to see you try asshole

chris

fine.

you pull back one curtain to call his bluff, and your heart actually drops when you see that he’s not standing there anymore. that just means he’s probably on his way over already.

you have no idea if cass or ramona are home or in their rooms or what. but you do know that you’re locking your door, and if he makes it through the house undetected he’s not getting into your room.

you sit on the edge of your bed for a moment, waiting because you don’t know what else to do with yourself. and then the knock comes, right before chris twists the handle and finds it locked.

“open up.” he demands, his gruff voice muffled through the door.

“no.”

“i’ll go downstairs and get cass if you don’t let me in.” he threatens, which doesn’t really scare you.

cassidy will kick his ass out if she realizes you don’t want him here. you’ll have to explain some things, but it’s probably time to do that anyways.

“you’re being a baby and you’re wasting your time. go home, chris.” you reiterate.

“come on, i just want to talk.” he wiggles the handle once again, like that will somehow open it.

“then call a sex addiction helpline.” you reply hotly, glaring at the slab of wood that separates you as if you can actually see him, though you’re glad you can’t.

“can you please open the door?”

“nope.”

“jesus, you’re so stubborn it’s ridiculous.” he groans, and you hear his forehead thump against the door.

he’s growing frustrated now, and even though you’re heated too, you kind of love it.

“so are you! how many times do i have to tell you to leave?” you shoot back.

it’s silent for a moment, which scares you. then you hear a small sigh.

“i didn’t think i would have to do this.”

the lock on the door begins to twist and turn rapidly, and you leap forward to grab it with your hand.

chris twists it hard and your fingers fumble to keep it jammed. your thumb is already in pain, and the harder he pushes the closer you are to failing. you’re finally forced to let go as chris comes shoving his way into your room a few seconds later.

even though he stumbles slightly, he looks so proud of himself, clutching the heavy duty paper clip he used to get inside.

“there, that’s better.” he says smugly.

you watch his eyes take in your room, covered in posters and full of random artifacts, and you hate it. for some reason, it feels deeply personal.

“holy shit, why don’t you just go home already?”

it’s impossible to keep your tone level anymore as you turn away from him.

“i’m here now, so you have to talk to me.”

“no, i really don’t.” you reply before plopping down onto your mattress, crossing your arms as you lean against the headboard.

“don’t be a brat.” chris follows your lead, even though you weren’t inviting him to join you.

he falls beside you, sprawling out on his back by your feet. his shirt raises over his sweats, exposing a bit of skin above the band of his boxers, and you have to tear your eyes away.

you can feel the warmth of his body, can smell his aftershave mixed with hints of some kind of fresh body wash, and all of it drives you crazy.

you curl your body into itself so there’s as much distance between the two of you as possible.

“why are you so mad?” chris turns his head slightly so he can look at you.

“i’m not mad, you just disgust me.”

this makes him smile. “i beg to differ, i think you like me.”

without hesitation, you extend one leg to kick him in his side. even though it’s not very forceful, he lets out a little groan of surprise, hand going to rub his hip as he frowns.

“you didn’t have to kick me, damn.”

“you deserved that.” you argue, tucking your knees back to your chest.

this time he stays silent and just looks at you. his eyes scan your face, darting down to your lips every other second, and you’re suddenly very aware of your surroundings.

“what the fuck are you staring at?” you ask in a brief moment of panic.

his eyes are so unnerving. it’s like he can see right through you.

“you’re pretty.” chris shrugs before averting his gaze back to the ceiling.

your face flushes, and you force yourself to remember the embarrassment from the other day, how stupid you felt after discovering that he’s still the same old player that sits beside you now.

“shouldn’t you be giving some other girl an STD or something?” you snap, and he huffs out a breathy laugh.

“first of all, i’m totally clean. and if you’d actually let me explain, you’d realize the girl that was over on sunday is just an ex fling who was picking up some old stuff.”

his clarification shocks you, though you still don’t necessarily believe it yet. he could be lying, even though it doesn’t seem like he is.

“you’re seriously telling me you weren’t hooking up with her?” you ask.

“it was strictly platonic. nothing happened.” he confirms, shifting to face you again.

chris lifts his hand to trace gentle patterns along your shins, and you don’t shy away this time. the feeling of his palms, even when separated by your leggings, is far nicer than you imagined.

“okay.” you mutter simply.

“you’ve been ignoring me the entire week and all i get is an ‘okay’?” he halts his movements so he can curl his fingers into air quotes.

“what would you like me to say?”

“an apology would be a nice start.”

you bark out a laugh. “an apology for what? for not talking to you? because i really didn’t take you for the sensitive type.”

he just shakes his head, nudging your legs with one of his knuckles lightly. “god, you and that headstrong attitude will be the death of me.”

“can’t wait.” you quip back, and now its his turn to chuckle.

silence settles over the two of you for a moment, and you’ve been far too close for too long, so you move to stand once again.

“alright, well, we talked. time for you to get lost.” you motion toward the door.

chris sits up, running a hand through his messy hair before he replies. “look, we don’t have another game until sunday, so we’re hosting at the house tomorrow. you should come.”

you raise an eyebrow and tap your chin, like you’re really contemplating. “i’ll have to think about it.”

“please? it’ll only be fun if you go.” he flashes you a charming smile, and you hate that it actually does kind of work.

“maybe i’ll make a special appearance. maybe.” you point a wary finger at him as he gets back on his feet.

“that’s what i like to hear.” chris says, making his way toward you.

you expect him to pass right by, but he lingers, like there’s something else on his mind. he stares down at you with those big blue eyes, and you can feel yourself slipping into dangerous territory.

“is there something else?” you ask softly, and the sound of your voice is maddening to him.

you don’t even try to tempt chris on purpose, he knows this, and yet everything about you is so enticing. not to mention he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the kiss since it happened, or that pretty little mouth of yours.

but he shakes his head again, because the things he’s thinking about you so early on in this strange relationship frighten him.

“uh, no, sorry. i’ll see you tomorrow, hopefully.”

and then he blows right by you without waiting for a response, disappearing just as quickly as he arrived.

[afro-hispwriter]

My Dornish Love(3)

Aemond Targaryen x Martell!reader

Summary- you and aemond discover you have some common interests 

Warnings- mentions of poisoning, some sexual thoughts? 

ferronniere- a headband that circles that forehead and will usually have a gem of sorts in the middle(or plain depending on where)

wc- 2.3k

1 2

-

Aemond waited patiently in the Library. A plate of food and a cup was next to him and a book opened. Another plate was across from him as well as a cup. 

The doors pushed open and you came rushing in, starting one of the other maesters. You wore a vibrant violet dress that made Aemonds own violet eye widen. You looked absolutely gorgeous. And the ferronniere really tied it all together.

“Good morrow my prince, I’m sorry I’m late.” You say and pull a chair out and sit down.

“It's alright, and no need for formalities. You called me by my name all yesterday.” Aemond gave you a tiny smirk.

“Yes, but we were around people who don’t particularly care, here in the Keep it is best to keep up appearances.” You lifted your hands onto the table. “Can we eat? I'm hungry.” 

“No need to ask, my lady.” You didn’t have to get told twice as you grabbed the biscuit and took a bite. Aemond caught a glimpse of your hand and forearm and he shut the book. “What happened to you?” He pointed at your arms and you looked up at him.

“Oh, I'm alright, it's just me and Thea discovered how much cats don’t enjoy baths.” You laughed nervously.

“Your handmaiden could have done that for you.” He says bluntly. 

“It’s alright, I like getting my hands dirty.” 

“Hmm. I should get the maester to check them.” He pushes his chair back and you grab his wrist. 

“Nonsense, eat first.” He yanked his wrist out of your grip and you drew your hand back. 

“It can wait.” He walks past the table.

“No, it can’t, the first meal of the day is very important. Especially for a prince and swordsman such as yourself.” Aemond stopped in his tracks and his jaw tensed.

“They could get infected.” 

“I’ve been poisoned before, this is nothing.” Aemond turned around with a shocked look on his face. 

“Poisoned?” He sounded intrigued now.

“I can tell you about it if you sit back down and eat with me.” You fluttered your eyelashes at him and he sighed. Aemond made his way back around the table and sat down. He grabbed the grapes and popped two in his mouth. His actions satisfied you and you cut the sausages in pieces. “So when me and Deziel were younger, we snuck into the storage where they keep the poisons because we just wanted to see them, but Deziel being Deziel. He grabs manticore venom and the twat drops it on me. I scream and end up getting cut which lets the venom go into my body.” 

“How did your parents react?” You laughed and Aemond dipped his spoon into his oatmeal. 

“There was a panic, my body had already weakened by the time they retrieved the antidote. Deziel didn’t see the outside of his room for almost two months, my mother was so angry.” You hunched over in a laugh and Aemond let his face relax and smile. You had such a pretty laugh but then you stopped. Aemond’s eyebrow furrowed in confusion until he remembered.

“I'm sorry.” He says.

“It was a long time ago.” 

“And still fresh on your mind.” You huffed and leaned back.

“No need for all this sadness, this is about you so how is your morning so far?” Aemond took a sip of the contents of his cup.

“I trained with Ser Criston and visited Vhagar.”

“I’ve heard stories of how big she is.” Aemond watched a glint in your eye of interest.

“Would you like to see her?” You drew back and your eyes widened. 

“I don’t think that's wise.” He finished his last grapes and grabbed his spoon again. 

“And why's that, princess? Are you scared?” He looked at you mischievously and you frowned.

“Of course I'm scared, I've never seen a dragon, and what if she knows?” You pouted.

“Knows what?” You sighed.

“That I'm Dornish.” There was a pregnant pause between the two of you. Then you heard it. A tiny little giggle and Aemond’s shoulder moved up and down. You frowned and scoffed. “It's not funny.” Your face burnt in embarrassment.

“What do you think Vhagar would do if she sensed you were Dornish? Eat you?” He asks and you shrug.

“Maybe! Dragons are smart, she fought in two wars against Dorne! My people had killed her own sister in arms.” Aemond kept an amusing look. “You’re mean.” You flicked a blueberry at him, hitting him in the cheek. 

“How unladylike of you.” You rolled your eyes. “But at least you know your history.” 

“Did you think I was stupid?” You cock your head. 

“Not at all, but not many ladies pride themselves on learning these things.” 

“Well, there's not much to do on Dorne rather than watch people fight to the death, drink, fuck, and eat. So I have picked up a book and I did pay attention in my classes.” You swirled the contents in your cup and swung a leg over the other.  

“Mmm. You should join me for a ride on Vhagar.” Your eyes widened in fear. 

“M-Maybe another time.” 

“Suit yourself, but I will still send you the proper attire.”

“The riding I know of requires no attire.” You cross your arms and pretend to be annoyed. Aemond let out an airy chuckle.

“In due time princess.” 

“Cute. Eat your food Prince Aemond.”

-

Breakfast was long finished. In the time after, Aemond asked you about Dorne. He wanted to know about it from a native's perspective. He also found joy in hearing you talk. 

“As you know it's always hot but here?” You laughed. “I actually had to cover up pretty decently last night but the sheets were quite scratchy, I thought there was a manticore crawling on me.” 

“You weren’t scared?” 

“I know how to extract their venom so they’re really nothing.” 

“Is it true you coat your weapons in venom?” 

“Mhmm.” 

“How do you do that?”

“To collect the venom we use vials and to hold the creature we would hold them with a large set of tweezers and a small set for the actual venom. For a manticore, the small tweezer would hold the stinger of the tail and you would just squeeze. Then we kill whatever it is and eat it.” 

Aemond grimaced at that. 

“What? They’re good, you should try one.” He chuckles at that.

“I am sure I will be alright without it.” You put your elbow on the table and pointed a finger at him.

“You’re going to try one.” He gave you a mischievous smile.

“I'm not easily persuaded.”

“We will see about that. Is there anything else you would like to know about, my prince?” You ask and the tips of your shows push against his boots. 

“No, I'm sure I have enough information to start a book of my own.” He says with amusement and you scoff.

“Hey! You could have asked me to stop at any time.” 

“A simple tease, I enjoy hearing your voice.” 

“Fancy me already?” 

“Is that a crime?” You shook your head and smiled. The edges of Aemond’s mouth curved up and he looked down. 

“How do you feel about the night sky?” You leaned forward. 

“I think it’s beautiful, when I ride Vhagar at night I try to get as close as possible to the stars.” There was a glint in his eye the second he mentioned Vhagar. 

“I have a book about it in my room, come with me?” You asked and stood up. You held a hand out to him and he pushed his chair back. He walked around the table and he grabbed your hand. 

-

The walk was short and no words were said between you too, but it was not awkward at all. Comforting even. 

You opened your chamber door and you let Aemonds hand go. He checked the hallways and when nobody passed he stepped through the door.  

You were already bending over to dig into a drawer. Aemond froze and his eye was trained on your ass. He was thankful he wasn’t like Aegon. 

“Here it is.” You hold up the brown book and show it to him. 

The Mysteries of the Sky by Maestor Elkin 

“He has traveled all over the world, he has even gone to The Wall and he reported on these bright lights in the sky.”  You say when you open the book to one of your saved pages.

“Fascinating.” Aemond stepped next to you, with hands behind his back, and skimmed over the page you were at.

“He doesn’t know exactly what causes them but he does believe it's the work of the gods. Can you believe if the gods do create what's in the sky, that they share their beautiful creations with us?” You wouldn’t see the smile on Aemond’s face as he solely looked at you.

“I do and they might be too generous at times.” 

“Hmm, I think they give us what we need.” You looked up at him by tilting your head back slightly with a smile. Aemonds heart started racing and his cheeks dusted pink.

“We should continue this back in the library.” Aemond starts walking towards your door when a white fluff walks in front of him. She passed along his boots and slid down onto her side. He crouched down and gave the cat some scratches making her purr.

“Or your room.” The cat hissed at you, still very mad about the events of earlier. Aemond looked over his shoulder and his eyes were met with the diamond that was pierced into your belly button. What he would do to just run his tongue along it.

Fuck that stupid (beautiful) dress

He stood up to his full height so he could tower over you.

“If someone catches us-.” 

“We are a very anticipated betrothal amongst many. I’m sure they will be more happy that we are getting along than mad that we were alone together.” Aemond couldn’t help but agree. 

“Follow me.” 

-

Aemond pushed the door open to his room and he stepped out of the way for you. You walked in and looked at all his furniture and all the paintings. 

“It's like everything I imagined. Dark but beautiful.”

“Hmm.” Aemond grabbed a book off his table and sat down in a chair and kicked his feet up on the small table. “Join me?” You gladly sat in the long chair next to his. 

“There is more Targaryen heraldry in your room than the rest of the keep.” The painting of a dragon setting ablaze to what seemed like Harrenhall caught your attention.

“That is what happens when the king grows ill and two devout members of the seven take over.” He cracked open his book. 

“How is the king? I have not seen him.” 

“Dying, slowly.” Aemond really should have said ‘too slowly’. 

“I can’t imagine wh-.”

“Not everyone has a relationship with their father as you do.” He cuts you off quickly. “A good one at least.” 

You decided not to push forward. 

“What are you reading?” 

“Political philosophy.” 

“Interesting.” You opened your book and kicked your flats off to lay down on the couch. A silence fell over, it was comfortable to an extent. There was a slight tension but you slowly forgot about it as you got deep into the book and your eyes slowly started to droop.

-

The book clattering on your chest made Aemond direct his attention to you. Book pages were folded on your chest. One hand on your chest and the other dangling. Your head was turned to the side and eyes shut. Aemond chuckled and stood up to a chest that held blankets. He grabbed the softest one and grabbed the book from your chest. It closed on the material of the dress and when he pulled it, the bottom of your breasts exposed themselves. 

“Fuck.” He turned away and his cock made a sudden throbbing sensation. Gods, he was acting like a boy again, the mere sight of a woman's body making him hard. He closed his eye and tried to think of anything else. 

He tossed the book on the table turned around and quickly splayed the blanket over your body. Aemond sat back in his chair and the material around his crotch down. Reading should make it go down.

-

You slept until the sun was almost gone. Aemond had finished a couple of chapters and did whatever else he needed to do. 

You sat up straight and rubbed your eyes. Aemond shifting caught your attention and you looked back. 

“Sorry.” You mumbled and swung your legs so your feet touched the floor. 

“Don’t apologize, you’re still tired from your trip. I should be the one apologizing for taking you out so quickly.” 

You yawned and stretched, a breeze hitting your nipples suddenly made you very aware that they had slipped out and Aemond had not taken his eyes off them. 

“If you wanted to see them, all you had to do was ask.” You teased tiredly and Aemond looked down at his now closed book. “I should get back, me and my brothers are going to see a play in the cities.” 

“Then I will see you later, princess.” You stood up and did a curtsy. Aemond frowned at your action but relaxed when you giggled. He even let himself laugh. He did this cute thing where when he laughed his head would shake slightly.

“I hope we continue these meetings, I think something good can come of this.” You say walking toward the door and Aemond stands up to open the door for you.

“I agree, I hope you enjoy the play.” He opens the door and you reach up to kiss his cheek. His face turned pink with affection. 

“See you tomorrow Aemond.”

You did not

-

Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated. I love hearing people’s thoughts🥰

[arinzu]

Rin Itoshi x f!reader with the trope

"he probably hates me" x "i love you so much"

AHHHH OMG IM SO SO SORRY FOR POSTING THIS LATE, MY SCHOOL STARTED AT JULY 22, AND MY EXAMS OMG D:

The only sun i'll ever need...

Summary : "I love you Reader... i don't know what to do without you" said rin You paused for a moment then answering "I thought you were gonna break up with me, didn't you Hate me...?"

Did i take inspo from tiktok and a few mental breakdowns i got? yes.

Reader is has a lot of insecurities, Rin x reader, popular x normal, this is for my insecure girlies out there (just so ya'k you are perfect<3)

Credits to the owners of the dividers and pictures! this fanfic style is from @chateaaa

HEY IT'S ME THE CREATOR I JUST GOT DONE AND FOUND OUT THAT MY MOOT ALSO HAS THE SAME REQUEST SO THAT'S INTERESTING <3

Everyday it seems like the media is out to get you ever since yours and rin's romantic relationship got exposed by the paparazzi's. You see your comments from posts you made years ago flooding with hate from his crazy fan-girls.

You were too terrified to communicate this massive issue with rin, and before you could process it. Time and time again it had already escalated, you dig a hole so deep that not even you who created the pit was able to get out.

it seems like every single day of your life hate keeps appearing. You can't even looks yourself in the mirror without breaking down from the comments.

your acne...

your body hair...

your looks...

even your figure was severely criticise...

It doesn't help that influences seems to catch up of the topic and starts also joining in. The more you scroll, the less you loved yourself you even notice rin getting quite distance in these couple weeks.

He doesn't start conversations anymore, doesn't stay long for cuddles, and is always on his phone... every time he does that it feels like a knife pierce your heart.

Overall your mental health is slowly deteriorating, you did try to stay strong even going as far as to publicly telling them to stop harassing you... but it just stopped for a couple days then it continued.

"(reader)?"

"(reader) (reader)!?"

You woke up in a cold sweat, frantically looking side to side just to find your lover sleeping right next to you facing the other direction. These vivid dreams keeps appearing of you committing suicide and rin's exact reaction.

It has changed... at every end of the dream might as well call it nightmare, rin calls out your name before you've committed it but this time it doesn't even show up.

You couldn't grasp the situation you dug yourself in, staring blankly at the white wall you can't sleep at this point too scared to face that nightmare.

You wanted to cuddle rin and tell him your problem, you quickly dropped that since rin was probably too busy...

With this you suffered alone, the sadness eating you so painfully and so slowly that you just wanted to end it.

...

"Oh, (reader)...?" rin called out to you, he was just woken up and was clearly very concern for you.

You haven't noticed this, but you were just blankly staring at a wall moving motionless.

"(Reader), are you okay...? you know you can talk to me" rin said trying to comfort you in the best way he can.

Feeling quite ashamed, you gave a small nod and assured him that you were okay.

TO. BE. CONTINUED

[lav-bee]

Dr. Stone x Reader

You Flinch Because of Them

Character/s: Tsukasa, Hyoga

Warnings?: Flinching 🤷‍♀️ not anything that should be triggering, more of a hurt comfort type fic 👍

‼️Also, spoilers for season 3 in Hyogas part‼️

💛- read as platonic

Tsukasa

- It’s known that Tsukasa is a very nice and charismatic guy. And honestly, ya, he is.

- But you have to admit he’s still a bit intimidating to be near him. The man can kill wild animals with his bare hands, that’s crazy!

- Because of this knowledge, you try to keep your distance. You would never want to accidentally get on his bad side.

- Of course Tsukasa noticed this but he couldn’t understand why you avoided him.

- He knew you didn’t hate him. Why else would you be nice whenever you two would have a small chat?

- There was tension between you guys and he didn’t like that. So he thought the best way to solve this is to have a private conversation…. In the forest… no one to see. Ah yes, this totally isn’t freaking you out at all!

- Not only were you already tense from him bringing you out here alone but a wild animal showed up and attacked.

- It wasn’t a big deal, Tsukasa dealt with it easily.

- After the sudden scare, he turned toward you and lifted a hand to give you a head pat. He paused, seeing you suddenly flinching away, and everything made sense.

- “Oh, I see.”

- His hand dropped to his side and he took a step back to give you space.

- There’s not much that he can change about himself to make you feel at ease, he knows this. But he still tries to be more mindful, slower, when you’re around.

- “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do, I don’t want to let my appearance stop us from knowing each other.”

Hyoga

- Finally, the fight with Ibara has ended. And the Kingdom of Science had found an ally with the villain Hyoga.

- It was a wobbly alliance, but you had to admit it turned out just fine

- Even though Hyoga fought for most likely selfish reasons, there was still a spark of admiration for the man

- Before, during the Stone Wars you couldn’t help but be amazed when he held his spear. He just looked so cool!

- And of course this made you want to learn too.

- Asking to be trained by him was nerve wracking and you weren’t sure if he’d accept. But surprisingly, he agreed. Anyone is welcome to learn as long as they train correctly.

- And now here you both are, alone in the training room. The others had taken a break but you wanted to push yourself just a bit more; you were finally making progress.

- Hyogas ways of training definitely weren’t for the weak hearted. You’ll have many bruises and blisters by the time the day’s over.

- Suddenly, your balance was swept from beneath your feet and you landed on the hard floor boards with a thud

- Hyoga moved his spear and for a moment you thought he would hit or stab you with it. A random reminder of how cruel he once was

- Your arm quickly went to block your face for… nothing?

- “That won’t do. How do you expect to fight against your opponent if you freeze up?”

- When you let your arm down, Hyoga had his hand out for you to take.

- “I won’t ask why, but it’s best we take a break.”

- And that’s not an option, he will make you take a break.

- He won’t bring it up, and he won’t treat you any different. More so keeps it in mind to try not to let it happen again.

[etherealising]

chapter eight | to see a friend, to see a ghost

masterlist | ↢ previous chapter | next chapter ↣

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: a secret you’ve been keeping from carmen finally comes to light.

warning(s): grief | death | loss | substance abuse recovery | substance abuse | addiction | miscarriage described as a health scare | miscarriage described as being sick | suicidal thoughts | suicidal ideation | hurt | comfort | crying | make-up | rekindling an old friendship | mutual pining | denial of desires | maturity | mature decisions | carmy finally putting baby’s wellbeing before his own | unresolved romantic tension | re-learning your person | angst | suffering | self-deprecating talk | please let me know if i missed anything!

wc: 8.9k

song inspo: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 (highly recommend to add to the heartbreak!)

If it was any later and the sky was any darker, you might have been startled by the figure waiting on your porch. But as you approached, arms occupied with bags full of decorations, you recognized that patch color jacket, and the baseball cap not doing nearly enough to disguise his features.

Stopping before your steps you just looked at the person for a minute, the man was obviously zoned out if he hadn’t already been alerted to your presence from the sound of your car arriving and now the slap of your boots against the pavement.

When you left that voicemail earlier, you hadn’t expected Carmy to take immediate action, it wasn’t like him. You also didn’t expect him to show up unannounced but maybe you should’ve waited before sending your address in that group text.

You made your way up the steps, the jingling keys in your hand finally drew the man’s attention, and the speed at which he flew off the chair situated on your porch was almost comical. Your eyes darted to his, taking in what you could see of his figure that wasn’t hidden behind his jacket or hat. He held two paper bags in one hand and the package you had been expecting in the other, sure the delivery driver just left it with him.

The silence stretched between the two of you. You could see Carmen begin to fidget in your peripheral vision; good he deserved to be uncomfortable for a minute or two.

Finally unlocking the door you pushed through, pausing to take your shoes off. The man behind you hesitated, not sure if he should move forward to follow behind you or not. He took a minute before stepping forward, your eyes meeting his as you stood between his only entrance.

“I don’t remember inviting you in,” it was harsh, but it was also the truth.

He stopped for a moment, cheeks flushing pink as he cleared his throat, “Can I uh, is it okay if I come in?”

It would have been easy to deny him access, leave him out here on your porch, or even allow him to squirm more. But you could hear Pete’s words playing in your mind as you thought of all the petty things you wanted to do at that moment.

You let out an exasperated sigh the constant back and forth between the two of you was finally catching up. You nodded before heading to your living room to drop the bags off on the couch, the open door an invitation for the man on your porch. The bags were safely deposited on your couch as you moved to head into your kitchen, stopping short as you spotted Carmy still standing in your foyer.

A chuckle escaped your lips at the awkward man. You made your way to him, stopping in front of him and taking the package from his hand and the two grocery bags. “You can leave your shoes and jacket out here.” You left him standing alone in the foyer, confident he would find his way to you eventually.

Carmen watched as you disappeared further into your house, the man quickly shedding his shoes and accessories, stopping at the mirror by the coat rack to tame his messy hat hair. He felt like a teenager all over again, fussing over how he would present himself to you. Carmy moved in the direction you had gone in, steps slowing as he tried to take in everything he could about your abode, from the decorations to the colors swatched on your walls. It all reminded him of things he missed out on with you, would you have gushed to him about the prospect of owning a home? Would you have asked his opinion on design choices?

The two of you had once gone to each other for everything, and because he was afraid of being completely vulnerable to his feelings for you, he felt like a stranger on the outside looking in.

He found you in the kitchen, eyes locked on the bottle of wine in your hands he brought with him, “You uh…talked about how much you loved it back in New York so I-I thought it might be nice to have it again.”

Your index finger traced the label of the bottle in your hand, memories of that weekend flooding through you, but that’s just what they were; memories. It was the present day now and no matter the itch you felt to let the red wine warm your mouth, drink enough of it to dull your senses, you wouldn’t allow yourself to.

“What are we doing Carmen?” The bottle of red was gently placed on your island as you looked at the man standing in the space just between your kitchen and living room.

Seeing him in a space that had been wholly your own felt a little weird, you didn’t want to think about the times you imagined what it would’ve been like to share such a space with him as you watched him stand in your house like he was meant to be there; like he belonged.

“I got your voicemail,” you leaned your elbows on the counter propping your head up as you listened. “This is me accepting your olive branch, I just…wanna make things right between us..” The explanation pulled a sigh from your lips, fingers tracing patterns into the marble island beneath you. You left the voicemail with the assumption that it would take Carmen a bit to get back to you, he had never been adamant about fixing your relationship before.

“You also have something I need,” Carmen watched as you raised your eyebrows, eyes leaving the spot you were tracing.

“And what would that be?” The scar between your eyebrows felt tight as your face pulled into a frown, your brain wandering to figure out what you could possibly have that Carmen would need.

Carmen sent a small smile your way, “Let’s cook and we’ll talk about it after.” You watched as the man joined you on the opposite side of your island reaching to remove the rest of the food from their bags.

The genuine laugh that bubbled out of your chest filled Carmy with warmth, “Do you always walk into people's houses and try and negotiate?”

Carmy did his best to control the warm fluttery feeling in his chest, the weeks without you were hard and the fact that your laugh could ease his full body ache was enough for him to realize just how much he wanted you as a constant in his life. “I didn’t think I’d make it this far.”

A silence lapsed between the two of you as you helped unpack the rest of the food. This whole situation felt like a bad idea, you definitely weren’t over Carmen’s stunt or the previous incidents where he let you down. But you had been skating through this year on borrowed time, and the time apart helped to calm your anger, you felt like you were in a much more level headed place to finally figure out what the hell this thing was between the two of you. And Pete’s words at lunch helped to give you a new perspective on the whole situation.

“What the hell are we even making?” Baking was your preferred form of cooking, so as you looked at all the ingredients laid out it was a bit confusing to piece the meal together.

The sound of your voice warmed Carmen’s senses, the silky tone danced through his ears buzzing against his brain. “Chicken Marsala.”

You nodded, declining a glass of wine with dinner was one thing, but now looking at the new bottle of Marsala that would be in your meal, you’d have to decline the whole dinner.

“That sounds so fucking delicious but I…I actually can’t eat it.”

Carmen stopped his ministrations with the ingredients, “No you’re good I uh I didn’t get anything you’re allergic to.” His eyes darted across the ingredients double checking that he hadn’t bought any compromising ingredients.

“Thank you, Carm, your consideration is thoughtful.” The extra measure made your heart rate speed up.

It was crazy really how the same man standing in your kitchen swearing up and down he didn’t buy any foods you were allergic to, could also be the same man who came across as uncaring.

“I appreciate the effort I do but…” Your heart felt like it was going to pound out of your chest. How could you admit to your best friend, the person who once knew you most, that almost a year ago you were staring at blank hospital walls as some doctor explained to both you and Natalie just how close to death you were? “Carmy I-”

The hand resting on your elbow helped to calm your breathing, it wasn’t like you weren’t ready to admit your overdose to Carmy, you were just worried about the aftermath. “Baby hey, you with me?” You felt the hand skate down your arm, Carmy’s thumb soothingly caressing your pulse point.

You turned to face Carmen searching his eyes, doing your best to memorize the way he looked at you, unsure if you’d ever be graced with this intimate gaze again. “Carmen I…I’ve been sober for 7 months.”

The silence in your kitchen was loud, You needed Carmy to say something to you, yell at you, call you a hypocrite for blowing up on him all those weeks ago when you had been the one lying to him this whole time. It would be easier if the blank wide-eyed look on his face morphed into one of disgust, hatred, hell any emotion would’ve been welcome. “You fuckin’ with me right?” The apprehension in his voice was the result of not knowing if he could bear to hear the idea that something so heinous could plague you.

The wobble of your bottom lip was enough, Carmen’s eyes skated across your face landing on the three prominent features that had been added to your appearance; the tiny scar on your upper lip, the one between your brows, and the jagged raised one stretching the length of your jaw.

The breath in your throat hitched as his finger slowly traced the long scar, the touch sent shivers through you. Your eyes watched him as he watched you, finger deliberately taking in the pattern on your jaw, his hand unconsciously moved to cup your face in the way he liked, forefinger pressed into your hidden tattoo as his thumb began caressing the corner of your lips.

“What the fuck happened to you, Baby?”

The shower you just finished was much needed, Carmy volunteering to pick up different ingredients while you relaxed before the two of you began this search for the truth. He didn’t say it but you knew he needed some time to internalize the small piece of truth you told him, to rationalize just how much you had gone through in your time apart.

You could hear Carmen shuffling around in your kitchen as you stepped out of the bathroom, steam following you out. Grabbing your moisturizer you moved to sit on the edge of your bed, mind racing to figure out what you were even doing putting yourself in this situation.

These past three weeks without Carmen felt needed, you were thankful for the time apart to focus on yourself and your wellbeing. But it always felt like there was a piece of you missing, it felt like that every time the two of you parted ways. The difference was instead of spending the time apart worrying over Carmy every minute you had finally put yourself first, and began living for yourself just like Tina had advised all those years ago.

And while a part of you wanted to continue this childish charade of ignoring Carmy, only showing up at the restaurant when Richie assured you he wouldn’t be there; you couldn’t. It took too much energy to live your life around Carmen’s especially since the two of you were so much more involved with each other than you had been in a while. Even without Pete’s words of advice, you could see the toll it was taking on the people around you. Natalie was too scared to even mention her brother for fear you’d have a meltdown. Richie’s anger for your situation souring his relationship with Carmen. And Carmen himself, he who had become a haggard sunken-in version of himself, the time apart affected him the worst his patience nowhere to be seen from the few times Richie had offhandedly mentioned him in your presence.

The two of you had been in each other's lives for longer than you could remember and you didn’t want to lose that friendship over your pride. During your time away from Carmen, you had come to the decision that you would be fine if all that was fated to be between you two was a friendship.

More recently you had decided that maybe it was for the best, maybe the two of you were never meant for anything more, anything good. Maybe it was naive to think you deserved anything good with all the hurt your selfish choices caused. Maybe it was best not to take any time and attention away from your recovery. This friendship was just a whole bunch of fucking ‘maybes’ recently.

But one could say that ‘friendship’ went out the window when the two of you crossed that blurred line a year ago.

You paused as your hand reached for the old crew neck you’d usually sleep in, as much as you loved the garment you couldn’t allow yourself to give Carmen any false hope about what would come from this. Walking into your closet you quickly grabbed your oversized ‘The Beef’ crew neck, slipping it over your head before stepping into your sleep shorts and a pair of fuzzy socks.

Exiting your bedroom you stopped by your record player, buying yourself time before you’d have to face Carmen and all the truth that would be exposed in this one conversation alone. You flicked through your vinyl selection before picking your favorite one, needing something comforting for everything that was bound to transpire.

You entered your kitchen seeing Carmy’s back at your stove sent an ache through you. The man cooking in your kitchen was a vision you had more than once, it was almost right, the only thing missing was the small figure you imagined standing in a chair next to Carmy watching from over his shoulder.

“Smells delicious Carm,” you sent a tired smile his way as he looked over his shoulder at you, eyes falling just above his own, no courage left in you to take in the look he was giving you. “What did you end up cooking?” Carmen’s eyes were stuck to you, your words falling on deaf ears, you fidgeted in your spot, the insecurity of being judged by the one person you didn’t think you could handle it from, weighed heavy on you.

Carmen cleared his throat as he watched you sink into yourself. He hadn’t meant to make you feel any type of way with his stare, he was just having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that things had been so bad for you and he had no idea because of his selfish inclinations. “It’s uh Chicken Alfredo, I thought it was safest.”

The air in the kitchen was tense, neither of you knowing how to be around the other at this moment, and you hadn’t even gotten down to the harsh truth of everything yet. “Can you…uh what do you mean you’re sober? I-I know what it means jus-I,” you watched as Carmy closed his eyes, a huff escaping him as he couldn’t articulate what he wanted to say. “Baby, help me understand. Please?”

You could hear the thickness in Carmy’s voice, the two of you watching each other with matching glazed stares. You stood frozen for a minute, your fight or flight instincts kicking in and it took everything in you not to leave the conversation as it was. A sigh escaped you before you nodded your head and hopped to sit on the island, fingers picking at the stray threads on your shorts.

Carmy turned the fire on the stove down before turning to lean against the counter next to your stove, the two of you now facing each other. The distance between you felt like it stretched on for miles, and maybe it did, the two of you didn’t know each other like you once used to. You and Carmy weren’t the same teenagers who shared everything, even the smiles you shared at this point in life held a different meaning.

You never knew where to start this story, was it better to ease the person in, or was it better to just rip the band-aid off all at once? “Now that I’m better I don’t think any reason was good enough for what I did to myself…what I did to the people I love. But uh, Mikey’s death was definitely a catalyst for everything.” You looked up to see Carmy watching you intensely, arms crossed over his chest, you can’t remember a time you’d ever seen him look so serious.

“I was alone, and maybe that’s just an excuse. We…we just buried Mikey, and I was scared to believe he was really gone, it didn’t feel right. I didn’t want it to be true.” You sucked in a deep breath trying to gather your thoughts. “I stayed in Chicago for a long time after that, your mom…gosh she was a mess and I understood why her grief was valid, but I…I just knew Nat couldn’t, didn’t deserve to fix things alone, so I just kept extending my stay.” The small sigh Carmen breathed was lost as you settled more and more into your explanation.

“An-And Richie was doing his fucking best to keep The Beef open but I could tell it was taking a toll on him. Tiff had filed for divorce just months ago and then he was dealing with Mikey’s passing. And I think, I thought if I just helped everyone get better I wouldn’t need to grieve, because I was surrounded by all the people I loved, and their wellbeing mattered most to me.” Carmen’s eyes stayed on your figure allowing your words to settle into him, it hurt knowing how much slack you had to pick up because he couldn’t bring himself to face the music.

Quiet sniffles came from where you sat atop the island. “Carm, you weren’t there…and I promise I’m not blaming you for the decisions I made, none of that is on you. But I just wanted my best friend, and I just needed to know you were okay. And when you weren’t at the funeral my mind went to the worst thoughts first. But then I…I just showed up in New York and you acted like your world wasn’t ending and then I just felt selfish because how was it that your brother just died and I was the one acting like I’d lost the person I looked up to most.” Carmy could feel his chest tighten, your words becoming less and less easy to swallow the more you spoke.

“And for a moment it was like the world stopped screaming like all I needed was your presence to assure me that everything would be okay,” a small sad smile rose to your lips as you thought about your time spent with Carmy in New York. “It-it was blissful and everything I wanted but I knew it was ending, we both knew it was ending you didn’t see a future with me.” You had to stop yourself, a sob sure to be ripped out if you didn’t give yourself a minute, “And I accepted your decision, it was for the best.”

You hugged your knees to your chest, barely beginning to scratch the surface of the worst of what you’d done. The new position provided you the comfort and protection you felt you needed. “I got back to Chicago, and I was only supposed to be here for a few more weeks but then…then I-I got sick and Rich-.” You clasped your hands over your mouth unsure if you could lay all your indiscretions on Carmy at once, unsure if you could mentally handle the toll the two confessions you desperately needed to make would take on you.

Rough palms enclosed your cheeks, moving your head so that you were face to face with Carmy. You could see the unshed tears in his doe-blue eyes, but other than that he didn’t seem to be affected. “Take your time, yeah?” He nodded his head waiting for you to nod along with him so you knew it was okay. The left side of his lips ticked up in a half smile, you let him lean in and place a delicate kiss on your forehead before he moved out of your space. “I’m here okay, I’ll listen for as long as you let me.”

Carmen was making this harder than it needed to be, how could you justify telling him one secret and not the other when he was being so understanding? Carmy made to move back to his original position, your grip on his hand stopping him, a quiet sigh escaping his lips at how fragile you looked. “Lemme turn off the stove okay?” You reluctantly let go of his hand, scared that at the loss of contact, he would take his chance to flee from you.

You watched as he turned the stove off, moving the food he had been cooking to the back burners, you felt bad that he had cooked for the two of you and neither of you would be enjoying it. He moved around the kitchen fear spiking in you as you thought for sure he was going to leave, to wipe his hands of you. He returned to you with a glass of water that he delicately placed in your hands before replacing your legs to their original position and taking his spot between them. Carmy’s finger tapped the glass in your hands “Drink up.” A small nod was your only response as you did as told you before setting the glass down beside you.

Carmy returned his hand to your grasp nodding to let you know he was ready to continue if you were, you took one last deep breath mind made up on how you would handle the rest of this conversation. “He uh Richie, he found me in the walk-in. You know that moment when you know something is wrong but you don’t know how you know. It was kind of like that, like Richie and I both knew I had done something wrong and Carmy,” your voice quivered as your eyes met his, the tears falling at a faster pace as he looked at you so earnestly, hanging onto every word you said. “I’m so sorry.”

Carmen’s brows furrowed, eyes widening as you collapsed against him incoherent apologies addressed to him spewing from your lips. His head came to rest atop of yours as you shoved your face into his chest your words turned to messy babbling as you tried to choke out words through your sobs. For all his social ineptitude Carmy knew there was something you weren’t telling him, something you weren’t being entirely honest about, and he wasn’t sure how it tied into your sobriety. But the way you were apologizing to him made him feel like he was partly responsible.

Your cries were beginning to grow in volume and Carmy was at a loss for what to do. He’d seen you cry before, hell he’d caused most of it but he couldn’t recognize you at this moment. The sobs that escaped you were echoing through the quietude of your house, you had never been an audible crier, usually a few tears escaping your eyes were the most Carmen had gotten. But these cries wracked your entire body, Carmy could feel them rattling his rib cage each sob breaking his exterior down more and more.

He wrapped his arms around you letting your tears soak his shirt, his tears beginning to run down his cheeks. The grip he had on you tightened ever so slightly as you sobbed your throat raw. Carmen needed to know what could’ve caused this reaction, he needed to know what you could ever have to apologize to him for. He felt you moving to get out of his grip, but he held you there as his tears dripped into the crown of your head, quickly wiping his eyes before he pulled back from you allowing you a fresh breath of oxygen.

“Carmy?” Your voice was scratchy as you played with his fingers avoiding any form of eye contact, you raised his knuckles to your lips kissing the ‘ou’ on his middle and ring finger. “Could you hold me for a little bit?” You raised your head to Carmy’s doing your best to send him a reassuring smile, to let him know everything would be okay.

Carmen frowned, he knew that smile anywhere. Even when you were so obviously going through something he couldn’t quite yet understand you would put his feelings before your own. He let out an exasperated sigh your need to put others well being before your own a habit he swore to himself he’d break.

The hand you kissed raised to your face, a light grip on your chin as his thumb caressed the space beneath your lower lip. Carmy leaned forward placing a soft lingering kiss on the scar between your eyebrows, “Let’s take a break yeah?” Carmy watched your body deflate.

He took a step back as you hopped off of the island, the two of you moving to your L-shaped couch. Carmy laid down opening his arms to hold you like the two of you had done hundreds of times while growing up. He knew the gesture would pull a smile out of you, a soft chuckle leaving him as you easily snuggled into him. Your face reverting to its home in his chest, his chin once again resting against the top of your head.

The light atmosphere was short-lived as you relaxed into Carmy, all of your words finally beginning to sink into him. He was happy for the intermission the time would help him to understand what you had told him thus far, to figure out how he could ever make up for the way he constantly held the door open and let you walk out of his life. The way he essentially cut you out of his life because he was afraid to admit to himself that what he felt for you for all these years wasn’t just lust and longing, but love.

Carmy’s fingers had been gently rubbing your scalp for the past forty-five minutes, the position the two of you were in reminiscent of a scene from New York when you visited. Now it was being translated in your own home, Carmy was laying on the couch one arm settled behind his head to prop it up, looking down on you to make sure you were okay. You were settled between his legs, your upper body pressed into his stomach as your head rested on his sternum.

“Baby?” Carmy did his best to whisper, not wanting to disturb you in case you had fallen asleep.

“Hmm?” Your response was so quiet it was easy to miss, Carmy was unsure if you had let out a quiet hum or if you were making noises in your sleep.

He stopped his ministrations on your scalp, his lips ticking up at the soft whine you let out “You asleep?” The question was followed by his fingertips resuming their massage.

“No, your heartbeat is just soothing.” You snuggled your face deeper into Carmen’s stomach, the movement raising goosebumps on his exposed arms. “Carm?” Your quiet voice drew his attention the apprehension clear on his features as he prepared himself for the words soon to leave your mouth. “There’s something that I need to tell you…something that you deserve to know. B-but I don’t think I can do it tonight. And I know that’s not fair to you but I think for my own sake I need to be in a better space mentally.” You shuffled around again turning to lie facedown, one of your cheeks rested against Carmy’s stomach so you could comfortably look up at him.

The confusion in his eyes was evident, whatever it was you couldn’t tell him was making him beyond nervous. It was hard because you had never kept a secret from him unless you absolutely needed to, and when you did it was never for anything more serious than a gift you were getting for him. But he knew he couldn’t force whatever truth you had to tell out of you, a part of him felt a bit relaxed, not knowing how much bad news he could take in the span of one night.

Carmy’s hand reached out palming the side of your face, thumb grazing back and forth in the space just beneath your eye, “You can share it with me when you’re ready m’kay? I’ll wait as long as you need me to.” He pushed a stray piece of hair behind your ear, watching as your eyes closed, a slight grimace on your face as you leaned into his palm more.

“You’re going to hate me, Carmen.” The words left your mouth with so much conviction all Carmy could do was frown, the idea of ever hating you would have never crossed his mind. He wanted to reassure you but lost his chance as you abruptly sat up, the movement caused him to sit up as well, the two of you only inches apart now facing each other. You forced a smile as your side relaxed on the couch, head propped against it as your eyes wandered around Carmy’s features. “Let’s just get through tonight and then we’ll worry about everything else.” You were exhausted. Carmy could tell by the way your blinking slowed, he wanted you to stop, to get some sleep, to put your needs before whatever made you feel like you owed him any explanation.

“Bab-,”

“I was in the hospital for a bit because I…I was sick. But after they discharged me I had been gone from my own life for so long I was so close to not having anything to return to. So I came home and forced the past month into a literal box in my closet, pretended none of it happened.” You were running on fumes at this point, with no regard for whether Carmy was even still listening to you, just this force within you driving you to finish the story.

“There was uh one thing that I couldn’t force myself to get rid of-,”

“The voicemail.” Your eyes shot to Carmy's, his silence easily making you forget he was even still here, that you were recounting these memories for a reason. You nodded eyes unfocused as you looked past him, would there ever be a time you could remember that part of your life without flinching every time you thought about it?

“It started slow, I was just getting back into the swing of things remembering what it was like to be alone after being in Chicago surrounded by people who actually cared about me. I would go out with my co-workers after a shift, drink just enough that I could get myself home, but not enough for anyone to worry about me.” A sardonic laugh left your lips, you were sure nobody would care about you, and you hardly had any strong ties to the West Coast.

“It helped…until it didn’t until I was drinking so much it was almost like my body was immune to the effects. But who needs their liver am I right?” The pinch to your thigh jolted you. Carmy wasn’t welcoming your self-deprecating jokes.

You raised your hands in defense, a humorless chuckle leaving you. “If I’m being honest, I don’t even remember getting that first prescription…not even the ones after it.”

“Wait,” Carmy moved so his feet were firmly planted on the floor, legs spread as he rested his elbows on his thighs. “What the fuck does a prescription have to do with this? Baby?” Carmy wasn’t stupid, he didn’t need you to spell it out for him but the sliver of hope in him was dwindling as the minutes of silence continued to tick by.

You shrugged, moving to sit crisscross applesauce staring blankly at Carmy’s side profile, one of his legs bouncing up and down. “You know they really should make those warnings bigger. About not mixing drugs and alcohol, the font is so tiny how cou-,”

“Stop!” You didn’t even flinch at the loud volume of Carmy’s voice, eyes following his figure as he flew up from the couch. The man was now pacing in front of you, one hand settled on his hip as the other furiously swiped across his forehead. “Why do you…do you…fuck!” The vein on his neck protruded with his frustration. “How do you just sit there and make fucking jokes about this shit Baby! Why the fuck is any of this funny to you?”

The urge to defend yourself was surging through you, in a way you knew Carmy’s reaction was valid. But it wasn’t like there was a handbook on the proper way to deal with your trauma, and you wouldn’t allow him to tell you right from wrong.

“What the fuck do you want from me, Carmen! I did it okay! I drank and I took the fucking drugs and when that shit stopped working on its own I thought hmm why the fuck not mix them because what the fuck could possibly be worse than living. In some fucked up way did I think it would help me understand Mikey? Maybe. It’s not like I fucking planned this shit! I didn’t plan to become addicted okay, that wasn’t supposed to happen I had a system…I had a fucking system.” It was like everything was becoming clearer the moment those last words left your mouth, you may not have planned the beginning, but as you thought back to what could’ve been your last moments you were almost certain some still sane part of you knew what you were doing.

Soft laughter left your lips as the pieces were starting to fit together in your head, the sound only growing in volume as you realized just how fucked up you were. Your eyes were unfocused as your gaze flew to Carmy, the whisper of ‘Baby’ lost in your internal revelation.

“I threw myself through that glass door, not on purpose I can’t even remember why the fuck I wanted to get outside so bad. But I-I remember swallowing those two extra pills and thinking what the fucks gonna happen to me huh, I’ve lasted this long.” Carmen couldn’t recognize you, the tears had started again but he was certain you couldn’t even tell, you looked possessed, your eyes flashing all around the room a wicked smile painted your lips as you spoke to no one in particular.

“Barely made it past the threshold before my body gave out, I wish I could remember, even if only for a second. What it felt like to have your body want something more than your brain did. But you know what the fuck happened Carmen?” Your eyes finally shot to his, you looked like a skittish animal ready to fight Carmy to the death if he encroached on your territory.

A sardonic laugh left your lips, your tongue swiping across them, the saltiness of your tears a shock to you. “I woke up and there Natalie was, right beside me. And you know my first thought wasn’t what happened to me or-or what the hell is Nat even doing here? I didn’t even pay her any attention the whole first two hours, and you wanna know what I was thinking Carmen?”

“Don’t.” The plea escaped his lips in a whisper your heart clenched at how desolate he looked.

“I laid in that hospital bed, and I looked at those stupid fucking fluorescent lights and I thought; Mikey got it right the first time, why couldn’t I.”

Carmen felt numb, like his whole body had been submerged in an ice bath and no matter how hard he fought to get out, it was like his body and mind were on two different wavelengths. He’d seen that stare before, in the eyes of his brother, the same way Mikey looked at Lee at Christmas dinner all those years ago was the same way you were looking at him now in your living room.

He wasn’t sure if there was a proper reaction to the truth you had just dropped. Mikey was dead, that made things easier, but here you were alive and well from what he could tell and he would have his time to mend things with you if that’s what he wanted. But he wasn’t sure he could stand in such proximity as you at that moment, wasn’t sure if he could even look at you. You had been the second closest person to Mikey, presumably knew he was doing drugs, knew he was spiraling out of control, and followed right after him.

Was there anything Carmy could have done to alter your path? Maybe if he had stayed by your side that night after Christmas you wouldn’t be standing here now talking to him about how badly you wanted to end it all.

Carmy drew in a sharp breath a small sob following it as he tried to control his emotions, he began taking small steps in your direction not sure of what he was going to do, but needing you to know his silence wasn’t because he was disgusted or disappointed in you; but in himself. How easy it would’ve been to keep in contact with you after high school graduation, how easy it would’ve been to just let himself love you and take care of you, be there for you. And as much as he wanted to believe you knowing how he felt would’ve changed much, he knew it was naïve, addiction was an illness and even if Carmen had fought harder to keep you in his life there’s no promise that he wouldn’t have been the one to find you floating in the space between life and death.

He slowly reached out to you, hands carefully grasping your cheeks in his eyes, committing your face to memory, mind racing with all the times he took being able to see it daily for granted. “Ba-baby, tell me you don’t mean that,” he waited, eyes rapidly flicking back and forth from yours. His grip on your face was just loose enough for you to send him the saddest smile he’d ever had the chance to see, “Please?” The broken whisper floated between the two of you before your head softly nodded up and down to confirm that indeed he was almost forced to live without you.

And this time it wasn’t his choice.

Carmy sat on the floor in front of your couch, back resting against it, head tipped back to rest on the cushion face pointed toward the ceiling. All he could hear were the soft breaths escaping you and his thudding heart in his ears. It took a while before you had finally calmed down, Carmy held you in his arms on the floor as the two of you cried. Your sounds lashing against his heart over and over again. He was exhausted, more than he usually was, the night far from what he hoped it would be. He was so overwhelmed by all that you had been willing to reveal to him, that the instinct to do something with his hands as you slept took over, the man dutifully cleaned your kitchen and stored the uneaten food away for you to eat at a later date.

And now here he was, back at your side finally coming to terms with everything he learned. Carmy felt like a fool he had prided himself on his friendship with you, always made it a big deal that you were his friend first, his friend by choice. But it had been almost 10 years since he decided to shut you out of his life with no reason, no explanation why and it was selfish of him. Selfish that he had so blindly pushed you away without a thought to how it would make you feel. Selfish of him to always expect your acceptance and open arms when it was convenient for him to re-enter your life.

He let out a small sigh raising his head from its position on the couch, eyes latching onto the dated picture atop your mantle, your cheesy smile staring back at him as Richie and Mikey surrounded you. His eyes poured over the picture, taking in how happy the three of you looked, and how simple everything was when the two of you were teenagers. A quiet humorless laugh escaped his lips as he reminisced, he was lying to himself if he thought your time as teens was simple, but compared to the lives the two of you were leading it sure as hell did feel that way.

Carmy allowed himself a moment longer to enjoy the happiness the picture exuded. He gave it one last glance before he adjusted his position on the floor, turning slightly so his side was leaned into the couch, eyes landing on your face as you slept. It felt like his heart was constantly breaking whenever he looked at your face, it was evident you’d been crying, the puffiness of your eyes easily giving it away. He reached his hand out, hesitating for just a second before he pushed the hair out of your face palm resting on your cheek as he began to softly stroke in back and forth. Since the first time he saw you this year, this was the most peaceful you had looked, he was glad that sleep had been able to bring you that sense of tranquility, but he wanted that for you always, to feel at peace on any given day and as he watched you back moving up and down to signify the breaths your were taking, he promised himself he’d provide that for you; even if it was only as friends.

“What am I gonna do with you, Baby?” The hoarse words left him in a sigh, a small smile making its way to his lips as he watched your nose scrunch up at the sound of his voice, eyelids slightly twitching.

He watched as you turned to lay on your side, lips brushing across his pulse point a small kiss now decorated his veins. “Still be my best friend?” Carmy laughed at your small voice taking up the space between the two of you. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, thankful that Carmy had figured out how to dim the lights in your living room. “Do you remember that promise we made the summer before seventh grade?” Your voice was scratchy from all the sobbing and borderline screaming from earlier.

Carmen nodded his head, a small smile raised on his lips, hand moving from your cheek to cup the back of your neck. “Of course, I do,” the smile only lasted for so long as he was forced to remember a promise he broke with no regard. “That we’d be best friends no matter what, even though we didn’t want each other’s cooties.” Carmy was happy to hear the sound of your melodious laughter, he spent so much time listening to your broken cries he was afraid he’d never know anything else.

“I’m sorry Carmen, I…I didn’t mean to blow up on you. I think telling you about my overdose…it helped me come to terms with it myself.” Your eyes were lidded, all the crying made them feel heavy, if Carmy wasn’t here in front of you right now you were sure you would’ve been dead asleep.

A small content sigh escaped you as Carmy’s thumb ran back and forth across the side of your neck, “You have nothing to apologize for we-I know I haven’t been a great friend to you these past years. And for that I’m sorry. I wish…I wish I could explain to you why I pushed you away but Baby,” Carmy paused heart thudding in his chest, the words were there, maybe not in the way one would expect but it was you; you would know what he meant even if he was speaking in another language.

“I uh I can’t even explain it to myself. But..I would like for us to be friends again if you’ll have me?” Carmy sent a tight-lipped smile your way, he couldn’t do it. He felt selfish for even thinking now was the time to propose the initial idea in his mind. Maybe it was an excuse, maybe not, but he didn’t think it would be fair to put you in that position. You had just told him such a harrowing truth about yourself and if his first instinct after hearing such was to ask to be more than friends it would feel insincere. Carmy wasn’t even sure you would want a relationship with him, you were sober, and recovering and Carmy wouldn’t allow himself to mess that up for you with his presence having been such a soul-sucking and negative thing in your life these past few years.

“I think that’s just what I need right now…a friend.” It was silent for a moment between the two of you, Carmy had prepared himself for the worst on the drive over, and although he could feel a lump forming in his throat and the ache in his chest, he forced a small smile on his lips upon hearing your words. “You kept it on there?” His eyes found yours confusion marring both of your features, at his silence your hand reached out delicately tracing the pendant settled against his signature white shirt.

Of all the times you’d seen Carmy you knew he still wore his chain, it was a part of him. You had caught glimpses of the gold peeking out from his shirt, but you would have never thought he wore the pendant you’d impulsively bought before leaving New York. You remember regretting having left the newly added accessory on his chain when you left his apartment, sure it made you seem like some desperate lover who had never even actually been a lover, just some girl too naive to see all the signs she was being given.

Your eyes flicked between Carmy’s waiting for his response, his cheeks tinting pink the longer you looked at him for an answer. The hand that wasn’t settled against your skin reached up to rub at the back of his neck. “I nev-I… uh never leave home without it.” The admission made your skin tingle, Carmy’s finger subconsciously tracing the lone letter you carried everywhere with you. “It uh, reminds me of you…of us.”

“There were forget-me-nots in the bouquet Willie made me,” you sent Carmy a small smile, although temporary, the sight of that bouquet filled you with happiness the short time you did spend with it. “Also I know you didn’t have shit to do with the flowers Willie put in that bouquet.” Carmy let out a small laugh face warming at the memory of old man Willie’s meddling.

Your thumb on the pendant began tracing the engraved letter, “This was like my form of a forget me not, something that was permanent, would never wilt with time…I just wanted you to have something to remember me by.” Carmen watched your lips stretch into a small smile, he knew what your words meant, but after learning about all you’d gone through it felt like your final words had a double meaning like if things had gone as you wished them to, this would be the only piece he had left of you.

A part of you felt shy sharing the reasoning behind gifting Carmy the pendant, the two of you were barely friends as it was and the flowers had been so personal to you, that you weren’t sure you wanted to let Carmy into that piece of your world even though he played a huge part in it without even knowing.

“Is that what they signify? Remembrance?” Carmen’s thumb ran back and forth across the scar on your jaw, tapping it twice to pull your attention to his.

You gave the pendant one last longing look, dropping it before your eyes finally locked on his, “Something like that.” You shrugged having to swallow the urge to confide in Carmen one last time tonight.

The two of you stayed like that with Carmy’s hand holding onto the side of your face, thumb trying to imprint the jaggedness of your scar to its memory. Your eyes became heavier the longer Carmy delicately stroked your face. The man made no move to wake you as you slowly began drifting back into the world of dreams, the same look of peacefulness he saw earlier had easily returned, the ghost of your past so evidently marked into your skin in the shape of your scars. He felt like he was able to finally release the breath he’d been holding in, his eyes skated across your face; a face he always considered to be a work of art, one he could never perfectly capture on paper.

As he watched you sleep Carmen came to terms with exactly what was left between the two of you now. For all intents and purposes the two of you were friends again, or at least on friendly terms, and as much as he tried to convince himself he would be happy to keep you in his life in whatever capacity you allowed; he knew that was a lie. But the only person he could really lay blame on was himself, you had been ready and waiting for him before he even realized he loved you and now that he was finally ready to take that next step with you there was no longer space in your heart for him.

Carmen watched you for a moment longer, thumb lingering against your scar before he finally had enough restraint to pull himself away. There was a part of him that would’ve stayed planted in that spot all night just to watch over you, make sure the moment he turned his back you wouldn’t suddenly disappear never to be gazed upon by him again. He quietly stood up, careful not to make too much noise and wake you, hand grabbing the blanket lying atop the head of your couch before he gently draped it across you.

He lingered in front of you every fiber in his body, willing him to stay there by your side, to be there when you woke up. But moments like that were no longer his to take; they never had been. Carmy let out a sorrowful sigh before he bent down to your level placing a soft kiss full of love and longing to the indentation between your eyebrows. What could have been, what never was would always stick with him but he would set his wants and needs to the side, and he would appreciate having another moment with you still in his life.

The two of you had seemed to come to an understanding now, and that’s all he could ask for. You said you needed a friend and that’s what he’d be; your needs were his needs.

a/n: in honor of turning twenty-three i present thee with the gift of suffering 🤪, anyway not sure how i feel about this chapter but we shall see. also i know it seems like everything between baby and carmy may have been resolved rather quick, but i feel like everything is very not obviously resolved. happy readings! 🤍

also: huge shoutout to @mr-robot-x for her impeccable song recs when it comes to this fic and the losers i write about. asleep by the smith’s heavily inspired this chapter. (which you would all know if you took my song inspo seriously 😐) just kidding but seriously it genuinely helped me get through this chapter! 🤍

[luvrxbunny]

hot pink

Pairing: Steve Harrington x F!Reader

Prompt: Pegging

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, tiny bit of addiction talk, reader doesn’t cum (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 3.5k

A/N: this is so long omg i hope u guys like it <3 (not proofread) and i know basically nothing about pegging except that its hot so if anything is explained in-correctly just shhh and pretend pls

“So you just let her…” Steve trails off, too stunned to finish his sentence. Eddie is red from laughter and a twinge of embarrassment at Steve’s reaction. “Yes, but Steve-” He cuts himself off with another laugh as Steve’s eyes widen comically at Eddie’s confirmation. “You have to just try it, man.” Steve’s already shaking his head as he takes a sip of his beer, trying to think it over but unable to see a scenario in which he’d enjoy himself.

“Look, Eddie.” He chuckles a bit. “Some guys are into that and-” Eddie cuts him off with a groan. “No, Harrington, you’re not getting me. I didn’t want to! She convinced me and promised that we could do whatever I wanted if I didn’t like it.” He pauses for a bit for dramatic effect. “But I fuckin’ loved it.” Steve breathes out a surprised sigh at Eddie’s words. “It feels weird at first, sure, but once she finds this spot. She says it’s my prostate-” He scoots closer to Steve to explain. “So apparently you know how she has a G-Spot? Your girl?” He waits for Steve to nod at him. 

“Yeah, I know.” Steve’s face is bright red, embarrassed at this entire conversation. “Okay, yeah, it’s like we have one of those but it’s in our ass. So I’m kinda like… Does that mean we’re supposed to have something up our asses?” He raises his hands in defense when Steve turns to him with a disbelieving stare. “I’m just saying! Like- why is it there? If not to be played with? I don’t know, man, seems weird.” Eddie’s half-joking now, saying these things mostly to get a rise out of Steve, amused by how red his face gets. “Whatever. Just like- don’t knock it ‘til you try it, y’know?” Steve nods silently at Eddie and the conversation moves on, they light up another joint and talk about where Eddie’s next gig is supposed to be. Steve’s mind, however, never moves on. 

You’ve had this thought too. Eddie’s girlfriend, Bunny, had gifted you a strap-on about six months ago after convincing Eddie to let her peg him. She says it’s almost better than sex, despite the large drop in stimulation she's receiving. You thought she was crazy when she gave you the hot pink strap, you tried to give it back immediately, without even fully understanding what it was for. She and Eddie are just so much more- aggressive than you and Steve. The pair always has some new sex story to share with you two and you’ve never found any of them appealing, until she told you that one. 

“No- he was so cute too! He was face down on the bed- I know.” She giggles in agreement when your eyes widen with your smile. “And he wouldn’t shut up! He was whining almost the whole time, his hands were like- ugh he’s so cute. He was like trying to reach back for me the whole time!” You try not to show how her story was heating your body up as she squeals about Eddie. You’re imagining Steve in his place and the thought- although it’s one you’ve never had before- becomes the main thing on your mind. It just got worse over the six months of you keeping it a secret. You didn’t want to over-share, unsure if Eddie was okay with the fact that she told you, and not wanting to scare Steve off. The kinkiest thing the two of you have done is have sex in a changing room, you haven’t even brought toys into the bedroom yet so how are you supposed to ask him if you can stick a silicone rod up his ass? You can’t. So the strap collected dust at the top of your closet. 

Steve comes home almost drunk, tipsy enough that Wayne had to drive him home and he stinks of weed, letting you know he had a good night with Eddie. He can stand on his own, not swaying or anything but he has this delirious smile on his face and a cloudiness over his eyes that tells you he’s intoxicated. He opens his arms for you the moment you open the door and buries you in a hug. You wave behind him aimlessly, hoping Wayne is in the driveway and can see your appreciation. He walks you inside, your face still buried in his chest and your hands wrapped around his waist. “Missed you s’much, honeybun.” 

You snort at the nickname and pull away from him, eyes closing in relaxation when he presses a wet, loving kiss to your forehead. “Oh-” He sees his slobber on your forehead and blushes with an adorably embarrassed smile as he pulls his sleeve to his palm and rubs his spit off your head. “Sorry, darling. That’s so na-” You cut him off with a giggle, crush him into another hug, and lean up onto your tip-toes to kiss him properly. He exhales a sigh of relief, of contentedness as your lips cover his before you pull away. “I missed you too, baby.” He beams like a little boy at your statement, his chest filling with love for you. “Good.” 

You both giggle your way to his room and he changes as you sit on his bed, watching him. He sobers up a bit in the process, needing his brain power since you’re not helping him. He fumbles with his button-up pajama shirt and looks over at you pathetically. He could do it himself if he really tried but he has fat, dumb fingers, while yours are cute and dainty, so he’d rather just ask you for help. You smile at him knowingly and slowly walk over to him, reaching your hands out to button his shirt while he holds your eye contact. “Soo.. How was your time with Eddie?” You ask gently, finally breaking the silence. 

He thinks through the hangout again, trying to decide which part he wants to tell you first but then the memory of a certain conversation smacks into his mind. You can see he’s remembered something big by the sharp inhale he takes, he also straightens his shoulders, fixing his posture a bit as red leaks into his face. “What?” You ask with a giggle, surprised at his reaction and unable to think of what would even make him react this way. He stops your hands on his buttons and that brings your eyes to his, seeing their fear. You pull away from his shirt, a bit scared at his intensity. His eyes flicker to the bed for a moment. “Do you wanna sit?”

You nod silently but now your mind is running wild with thoughts. 

Eddie got him to do crack. Now he’s addicted. Fuck. No- No, Eddie probably ordered a hooker or something and cheated on Bunny! Or he ordered the hooker for Steve… And he cheated… No. He would never. So..? Oh my god. It’s meth. Steve’s addicted to meth. 

Steve sits silently beside you, his hands wringing each other nervously, only worsening your thoughts. He takes a breath to say something but loses his nerve.

What if she thinks it’s too weird? What if she leaves you over this, goes to all her friends, and talks about how Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington wants a dick up his ass. Shit. Should I just abort?.. No. I mean, she wouldn’t do that, would she? No. No, of course not. 

“Um.” He finally starts and your body tenses, preparing for the worst. He won’t even look at you, his gaze is fixed on his nails as he picks at his cuticles. “I- Eddie talked about something. I kinda- It sounded intriguing- Well. It- It sounded scary at first.” He breathes out an incredulous chuckle. “I was like- No way. But then- uh. Then I imagined it with… With you and-” A shaky sigh falls from his lips and you turn to him. His face is beet red and his hands are shaking lightly when he rubs them against his thighs, trying to help with the clamminess. 

“And after I did that it- The idea became very, very appealing. Like- It’s kinda embarrassing how bad I- How badly I want it…” You begin to get a bit nervous at how he’s dancing around the topic, and how vague he’s being. He turns to you for a moment, his face getting redder when he realizes you’ve been looking at him. “Don’t- Just uh, don’t judge me too fast, okay? Eddie, he- he made it sound really- really good, sweetheart.”

Your heart is racing, his intense gaze piercing into your soul. “You’re scaring me, Steve.” His eyes widen and he takes your hand into his, you try not to make a face at how damp his palm is. “It’s- I mean it’s not bad. I hope you don’t think it is. Uhm…” He takes a deep breath and breaks your eye contact to analyze the bedsheets. “Have you heard of, um… p-pegging?”

A light spreads through your body and you fight the smile that wants to crack your face open, trying to stay more neutral. “Yeah… Why?” He looks up at you hesitantly, his eyes are scared and desperate. His eyelids flutter as his lips tremble, “I - I want-” He whines and pulls away from you, conceding. “Nevermind. It’s- Fuck. It’s probably too late to backtrack, huh?” His hand combs through his hair, embarrassed, stressed, and scared for your reaction. 

You stay silent for a bit as Steve gets lost in his thoughts, you’re considering your options and ultimately decide to show him. You stand and start walking to the closet, Steve exhales a frantic sigh and you hear him stand behind you. “You- Don’t be weird about it, I just-” You grab the box and turn around, holding it out to show him, picture side first. His mouth shuts immediately. He’s frozen where he stands, just staring at the box in your hands. Now you’re growing nervous at his silence. You chuckle nervously and walk back to where you were sitting on the bed, handing him the box and his eyes never leave it. 

“Bunny gave this to me a while ago… I never said anything ‘cus I didn’t think you’d want to but-” He finally lifts his gaze to you and you lose your breath at his state, already needy and wanting. “We could… If- I mean if you want we can t-try?” You feel like you’re vibrating in your seat, anxious but excited at the same time because Steve has been nodding at you since your sentence started. You giggle and take the box from his hand, turning to put it in your top drawer until the time is right. You giggle at your thought before turning back around to voice it to Steve. 

He’s fumbling with his buttons, his pants already off and a prominent bulge in his boxers. 

“Oh! Right- Right now? You want it right now?” You ask, audibly shocked and his hands freeze. He looks at you, embarrassed and you instantly feel bad for your tone. “I thought you’d be too drunk, baby.” He shakes his head lightly. “I’m not drunk anymore.” His tone is so soft, delicate as he speaks and it brings a smile to your face. You look him up and down, your smile widening at the dark spot spreading around his tip. You walk over to him slowly and watch his breathing speed up the closer you get. 

“Then get on the bed.” You say with an innocent tilt to your voice that ruins him. He moans at your words and basically throws himself on the bed. He’s wiggling his clothes off as you read the instructions for the strap, trying to figure out how you’re supposed to situate it over your hips. You get it up your legs before having to look back at the instructions, following each step as carefully as you could, but still left with the leather straps sliding down your legs instead of holding your dick in place. 

“Baby?” Embarrassment and a bit of amusement flood you as Steve calls out. You turn around begrudgingly and bite your lip at the sight. He’s laid out across his bed, his entire body flushed and blushing for you, his dick kissing his belly as his hips thrust into the air gently. You walk over to him with a shy smile on your face, holding the strap up on your hip as you climb over him. “I think I need your help.”

He’s mesmerized by the silicone cock, how it hands between your legs, how the hot pink color matches your character perfectly, like it’s meant to be your dick. “Yeah. Yes, I can help.” He sits up and starts pulling random straps until something tightens, then does the same with the other side. “Thanks, baby. Can you make sure the back straps are all secure?” You turn around and bend for him, not totally aware of the way you’re putting yourself on display for him. His eyes can’t help but gravitate to your ass, admiring the way the leather straps dig into the plush of it, leaving little indents on your skin. “A- all set, sweetheart.” He says with a light pat on your ass to tell you that you can turn back around. 

You turn to him with a smirk and he just stares up at you. His pink lips are wet and bitten and so alluring. You lean down and bury them in a kiss, smothering his lips with yours and breathing in every whine he gives. You pull away with a smile and he makes no move to flip over, his hands just rest on your hips as you stare at him. You lift off of him, and all he gives you is a confused stare… Himbo.

“Face down-” His breathing shudders. “Ass up, sweetheart.” He whines and flips over for you, but leaves his ass low, his dick flush with the bed. You shake your head fondly and climb over him, your legs on each side of his calves and you reach for his hips, letting your fingers ghost over his skin before pulling them up to rest against yours. Steve whines at the feeling of your cock between his ass, he wants to pull away but your hands convince him to stay put. Your thumb is rubbing back and forth, soothing him as you lean forward to whisper in his ear. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby,” He shivers and you pull away to reach over to your nightstand, grabbing his lube and squirting a generous amount into your hand before returning to your previous spot. 

“Okay. I’m pretty sure I have to stretch you out first. Is that okay?” He whines, sounding a bit upset and his hips wiggle so subtly you almost don’t catch it. You rest your un-lubricated hand on his lower back, stilling his movements. “How- Is that gonna take long?” You’re a bit confused by his question, silent as you figure out your answer. He turns to look at you over his shoulder, ensuring that you heard him and then he sees your confused expression. “I really want it.” 

His voice dissolves into a whine and you almost forgo it, almost convincing yourself that he doesn’t need prep- but the fear of tearing his pink little hole stops you. “It’ll just take a minute.” You spit the words at him, growing just as desperate as he is as your finger plunges into his hole, a bit faster than you probably should’ve but earning you a shouting moan from his pretty lips.

“Don’t wanna hurt your little hole, baby.” You tell him just to add insult to injury. He’s whimpering your name against the sheets, his eyes shut tight as he squeezes around your finger and you see his cock jump. You push in another finger and he takes it like a champ, begging for a third long before you planned. 

Once you’re done stretching him his entire body is hot and shaking, his cock leaking onto the sheets but he’s still unsatisfied. You line your cock up with his entrance and smile at the instant whimper it gets from Steve. You’re watching the way the silicone dick presses into his hole, the way he’s pushing back on it and this strapon must've figured out a way to connect to your nervous system because you swear you can feel his heat on it. You’re confused and entranced by how it looks, how it feels, and how he sounds. “M’gonna fuck you now, Stevie.” His dick twitches as he groans at your words and his hips press back onto your dick, teasing you with his warmth and friction. “Oh fuck. Please.”

You work your tip into him and a little nub at the bottom of the strap pushes into your clit, only furthering your fantasies of being able to feel real pleasure from his ass. You moan with him as you slide in. You prepped him well enough that you’re able to get half your dick in before he’s whining at you to slow down. You rest your front on his back and he can feel your boobs squishing into him, making the whole experience that more arousing. “You feel so good, love.”

You moan into his ear, low and sultry to fuck him up even further. He moans your name, eyes shooting open and his hips rock him back, forcing the rest of your cock into him and accidentally ramming you right into his prostate. “FU-” His curse is cut off with a breathless gasp and he collapses onto the bed. His arms are covering his obviously red face and he’s letting out shouting groans into the mattress as you grind yourself into that spot again and again. You never pull out very far, too scared that you’ll lose his special button.

His thighs are already shaking against yours and it twinges arousal in your stomach. You bottom out inside Steve and grind yourself into the base, moaning his name and riling him up. He can’t fathom why you’re moaning, he knows you can’t feel him but you’re moaning like he’s fucking you, and it’s fucking him up. His hips swivel back onto your dick, trying to get as much stimulation as he can. It’s like nothing he’s ever experienced, it feels like you’re everywhere, and he feels so full. The thought sparks a memory of you telling him the same thing and his balls tense at the role reversal. The fact that it's now you fucking him, filling him to the brim, moaning at how tight he is. 

He cries out your name and you watch his hand uncurl from the sheets in favor of sliding between his legs. You pull out and start fucking him as quickly as you can, surprised at how much it actually exerts but the sore muscles are worth it to hear the way his moans increase. He becomes frantic and pathetic, with high whines of  “So good, love it s’much. Love you s’much.” begin to litter his incoherent moans and you know he’s getting close. You watch his hole squeeze you more frequently the closer he gets and you wrap your hand around his waist. You smack his hand away from his dick and rest your entire body over him as you wrap your hand around him- causing him to collapse entirely as he moans your name. You’re jostled as he crashes to the bed but you keep up your pace as best you can. 

It’s a struggle to jerk him off against the mattress but his moans tell you that he doesn’t mind in the slightest. You’re able to fuck into him more easily from this angle and it shows, your pace is doubled and he’s basically screaming a loose frame of your name. The back of his neck is burning red and his moans are climbing, warning you of his impending orgasm. You smile, proud of yourself and him, and lean down to kiss the back of his neck, snapping his last straw. 

He shouts into the mattress, it’s barely a moan, closer to a sob or a scream as his cock throbs painfully. He’s spilling against the mattress, completely soaking the sheets with his cum as his body shakes against you. Your hand is slick on him, now flooded with his cum as he stutters into you, trying to fuck himself into your fist while fucking himself onto your cock. You thrust into him slowly, cooing into and kissing his ears as he comes down slowly. He twitches into you occasionally, gradually becoming overly sensitive to your movements but every time you stop he presses his hips up from the bed, forcing you to thrust into him again. So you stop stopping. 

You grind into him slowly, listening to the little mewls he lets out when you land close to his prostate. It’s like you’re massaging his insides, stroking along his soft, sensitive walls and eventually he falls asleep that way, leaving you with the struggle of flipping him over to clean him up but you don’t mind in the slightest.  

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

[ambrozjas]

Could you do a songfic with the song 'Mary' by Alex G with Dallas?

I love your writing sm it genuinely makes me happy <3 take your time with this request and have a lovely day !!

mary is the girl that leaves you to rot ꨄ︎

✧˖*°࿐ notes 🧸ᰔᩚ

i cried makjng this n im so proud of it n i love alex g sm

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

major character death, grieving reader, weird descriptions of adrenaline because i’m obsessed with it, song lyrics r in italics !! 💕

✧˖*°࿐ word count ᰔᩚ

2276 words, 12170 characters

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

mary is the girl that i wanna kiss

she’s got big red eyes and big red lips

she’s got big sharp teeth and big fat hips

dallas winston was known as a lot of things. he was a hood, a filthy greaser, a pervert, an idiot. and while you had heard all of these things about him, you had never actually spoken a word to him besides a gruff, “watch where you’re going” when you bumped into him.

you took notice of the hollowness in his dark eyes, the way his hair was always tussled, the way a new purple bruise was always blooming on his cheek, the milky skin that shone through the small slit of his shirt lifting when he stretched, the fullness of his pink lips whenever a cigarette was sticking out between them, how soft they looked..

no, you told yourself. dallas winston was a no good hoodlum who couldn’t keep his hands to himself. that’s all he was, and that’s all he’ll ever be. but how wrong you’d come to be in the future.

mary is the girl that i wanna fuck

she’s got leather heart and leather gloves

over the next few weeks, your mind couldn’t help but wander about dallas. you practically analyzed every part of his being. the way his eyebrows furrowed when he struggled to light the cancer stick meticulously placed between his index and middle finger, his leather jacket creasing at the forearms in the process.

but of course, your thoughts had to be interrupted. whether that was for the better or worse, you couldn’t decide.

“hey! what’cha lookin’ at?” your friend slides up next to you on the bench, slipping out of the sun’s reach and under the tiny umbrella shielding you two as she followed your gaze. you both were at a small diner, eating outside despite the tulsa heat causing your thighs to sweat when you sat down. you didn’t mind the heat, maybe that’s why you started playing with fire by talking to dallas winston.

you muttered a quick, “nothin’” when you saw your friend roll her eyes and groan at the fact that you were watching him, dallas. you snatched the juice box that she held out to you while she continued to watch dallas with two younger kids chase a group of small kids around, shouting about in an attempt to scare them.

“i still don’t get it. yeah, he’s a bit cute but i don’t understand why you’d go for a guy like that—“

“i’m not going for anybody. ‘s it a crime to observe the locals?”

“bit creepy but,” she paused as she tsked, “not a crime.” she sighed, sipping on her own juice box once more.

she’s the only girl that i wanna love

when you had finally mustered up the courage to talk to ‘the big bad wolf’ himself, you got through the brief scoffing-at-your-attempts-at-conversation stage and actually realized that dallas isn’t all that bad. maybe he’s wore you down, maybe it’s just habit at this point, but he’s actually tolerable when he’s not around all these dumb broads who are looking for a quick bang.

it took a while. like, a long while. but dallas didn’t mind you anymore. you were no longer the pest that buzzed around his ears in hopes that you weren’t swatted away. dallas claimed he didn’t have friends, need friends. but you’re one of the closest people that would ever get a chance to see dallas the way he truly is. you had met the curtis brothers, already recognizing sodapop from school before he dropped out. you had met two-bit, an obnoxiously flirty drunk who threw teasing remarks at you and dally at night long. you had met steve, although all he did was sneer at you when you got close to him, similar to a dog with a piece of beef in its mouth.

when dallas had finally asked you out, it was curt. grumbling a small offer in an attempt to sound tougher so he would mask his awkwardness if you said no. but if you’re being honest, you couldn’t imagine being with any other boy besides dallas winston. he plagued your mind, planted like weeds that you couldn’t get rid of. whether that were his intentions all along were unknown, although you wouldn’t put it past him. dallas was an interesting guy, for sure.

listen to me baby, i don’t mind

i wanna be with you and waste my time

“y’know, you don’t have to be here right?” you asked him, watching as he blowed another cloud of smoke through the small gap his mouth provided on the other side of his cigarette occupied lips.

he merely glanced at you, his arm behind his head as he lounged about on your bed, weight crinkling the sheets.

“because if—“

“can you relax? i wanna be here, otherwise i’d get up and leave right now.” he plucked the cigarette from his mouth as he fully turned his head to look at you.

you shrugged, “i wonder what’d make me ask when you’ve said ‘i’m wasting my time’ and ‘how long are you stretching this out’ and—“

“alright, alright. i get it.”

you sat in silence for a bit, feeling a bit awkward at the fact that you pulled his card and had said nothing more. you were convinced dallas would leave once he had sat up, dusting some ash off of his dark shirt.

“how long ‘til you finish that thing?” he pointed to the paper on your desk below you, leaning his elbows against his thighs as he got comfortable in the new position.

“why? you need t’much attention?” you cooed at him teasingly, still keeping your eyes glued to the paper.

“feels like you’ve been workin’ on it forever. i don’t wanna spend my time in silence while my girlfriend is just working on her homework.”

girlfriend, you repeated in your head. he’s been getting pretty ballsy with this label thing, huh? you smiled to yourself, writing one last sentence before putting your pencil down and getting up from your desk. dallas’ eyes trailed your figure as you stood between his legs, his hands instinctively resting on your hips.

you would almost call it domestic, the way his brown eyes gazed at you. the brown eyes that were so full of disdain and resentment for the world, somehow had room for adoration whenever he looked at you. you always admired that about him.

you placed your hand on his face, before giving him his wishes and unceremoniously plopping on top of him. you couldn’t deny him, dallas winston always got what he wanted.

give it to me baby, i feel good

i wanna feel whatever you think i should

sing it for me, baby, play my song

i wanna hear your daddy sing along

“i dunno.” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

“what do you mean you don’t know?” you put your hand on your hip and looked down at dally, a cancer stick shoved between his lips as usual.

“i don’t dance, ‘specially not with losers like you.”

“hey!”

it was the perfect moment, you were at a family party with dally. you two decided to go to a small clearing behind the house, the smell of trees wafting in the air. it was distant enough that nobody would see you but it was close enough that you could still hear the music faintly blasting through the speakers.

“c’mon dal, nobody can see us. just you ‘n me.” you held out your hand, tilting your head as you offered for a final time.

he stared at it for a second, eyes flickering between your face and your hand as he cocked an eyebrow similarly to two-bit’s habit.

you scoffed and rolled your eyes. “fine, guess i’ll just go find another guy to dance with. i’m sure andy would love—“

and then came dally’s hands on your hips pulling you back towards him when you tried to saunter away back to the front of the house. you yelped as he tugged you towards him, getting up from the small white garden chair.

you laughed and threw your head back as dallas tried to twirl you, he was almost comically stiff as he did a small two-step shuffle with you in his arms.

“wow, so romantic.”

“shut up.”

you leaned forward and rested your chin on his shoulder, relaxing in his embrace as the music changed to a much slower song. you assumed the adults were slow-dancing with each other, too. you found it funny how when you were little, you would gag at anybody else doing these actions and now, you just realize how in love they were with each other.

you mumbled the lyrics a bit as you swayed in dally’s arms, resting your eyes as his hands came to sit on your waist.

dallas relaxed a bit, too. he listened to your sweet voice as you lowly whispered the lyrics from off the top of your head, mumbling incoherent phrases at lyrics you didn’t know.

if you had told anybody else about this, about how you had practically domesticated dallas winston, about how he was no longer the big bad wolf of tulsa but instead of a common dog who rested his head in your lap, they’d never believe you. they could never believe that he could be anything else besides a greaser, that’s all that mattered in this town. you cherished these moments, oblivious to the futures ahead of you and dallas.

mary is the one who leaves you to rot

she says, ‘i am real and you are not’

that phone call from dallas still haunts you. his voice was breathy, you heard him groan at the slightest shift of movement, he sounded like he was on the verge of tears.

“what did you do, dal?” you remember the way you clutched the landline, your palms had already been sweaty. one second you were hunched over a desk stressing about math homework, and the next you were pressed up against the wall as you frantically tried to get dally’s location.

you remember the way he had whispered your name over the phone. his voice cracked as he repeated it. for a while, it was ‘doll’ this and ‘baby’ that, he rarely called you by your name anymore.

“please, just tell me where you’re at dallas.” your voice was barely a whisper at that point, you were surprised at how the phone picked it up. you pressed your forehead against the wall as you begged him not to go once he told you his goodbyes. you remember how before he slammed down the phone, he let out a small cry.

“thanks for sticking around.”

and then came the familiar dial tone.

you remembered feeling a pang in your heart, it was like your vision went blurry. your throat was practically coated with barbed wire as you fought back a sob, biting your fist to avoid a cry from escaping your lips, an old habit you had learned from dallas whenever he tried to hide from you.

it was nothing like the movies, where a dramatic string quartet would play in the background as you ran in slow-motion out the door. your mind couldn’t think, your thoughts couldn’t focus. your thighs started shaking as you ran out of the door, not even bothering to put shoes on.

the cool air hit your legs, creating a pebbles effect against your skin as the goosebumps raised. your legs didn’t stop, you ran until you couldn’t anymore as you followed the noise and the array of police cars that made a bee-line down the street to the old convenience store.

you remembered the burn in your nostrils and at the back of your throat, the cool air hitting both your bare shoulders and sinuses. that didn’t stop you, though. all you could think about was dally.

you remembered how your eyes couldn’t even focus on what was in front of you. all you saw was dallas, and in his hand was a gun, in replacement of his normal cigarette.

she says, ‘i am real and you are not’

you couldn’t eat after that. who could eat so casually after watching their boyfriend be gunned down right in front of them?

it’s all a blur now, your adrenaline blocking out most of the details. all you remember was crying, as shouts came from the gang, yelling about how dally was just a kid. those screams still haunt you to this day. even now, you can’t look at a pack of kools without thinking of dallas.

you understand why he did it for johnny. johnny was the closest thing dally had to a family. if he was alive now, you’d smack the shit out of him though. you weren’t selfish, nor were you a mean person, but you couldn’t forgive dallas for doing this to you.

as you laid in bed the night of his death, you remembered how dally had made promises that were soon proven to be empty about escaping this small town, to a place with no worries. you realized now how stupid it sounded, but that didn’t matter to you because you had dally. had. and now what you had was gone, lost with the solemn memories of resting against the silk pillows and whispering small words that no other person would ever get to hear, for those words would never leave that bedroom, and those words would never leave your mind either.

you know it now, that dallas was trying to just plant himself in your mind. in his own sick way, he wanted a piece of him to be left with you. and you couldn’t deny him, dallas winston always got what he wanted.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ the outsiders did NOT have to go that hard with that “whatever dally wants dally got” quote

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

[strangersteddierthings]

Steve, Gareth and Chrissy are cousins AU (sad edition) [prologue] [part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Final Part]

Steve climbs into the back of Nancy's car with Dustin, trying his best to play off his mood as having slept poorly in the Wheeler's basement, instead of the guilt and sorrow churning inside him. He had been hoping to be able to make excuses to go home for a bit today, away from the group, so he could go to Chrissy's funeral.

Doesn't seem like that will be happening. Not unless he tells them the truth. They're going to the Creel house and Steve can't let them ago without him. Can't let them walk into potential danger if he's not there.

Because Chrissy's already dead. He can't change that. But he can try his damnedest to make sure there's no one else. So, it's more important to him to be there with the living, than at a funeral. Chrissy would agree.

Chrissy would understand.

Right?

Gareth sits through Chrissy's funeral and notes that Steve's not there. No one from the Harrington household is. He doesn't know what to feel about that. All his sorrow has been spent on Chrissy, so all he feels for Steve is anger. What the fuck is more important to Steve right now than being here? For his family. For Chrissy. For him.

He sits next to Jason even though his mom left a spot next to her available for him. He's not suddenly Jason's best friend, but he was told they plan to continue their search immediately after the funeral, and if he sat next to his mom, she wouldn't let him go.

This is how he finds himself at Reefer Ricks, long past the mandated curfew with just Jason, Andy, and Patrick. The others having slowly dropped off the search the closer to night it got.

"Hey," Gareth calls out to Jason before entering the house, "I'm going to go check if Eddie's van is hidden where he usually parks it when he comes out here."

Jason pauses on his way through the door. He looks over his shoulder and gives a nod, "yeah, smart thinking. There should be a flashlight in the back of the car."

Gareth nods back and heads back to the car. It doesn't take long to find the flashlight and soon he's walking down the road. It's not a long walk, about fifteen minutes away is a cluster of trees that Eddie parks at when he comes to get more goods from Rick. Gareth (and their other friends) spent plenty of afternoons waiting in the van for Eddie to return from his 'job', as it were. It does keep the van out of sight of any road, though.

The van is there, and Gareth doesn't like what he sees. The driver side door is open, so he approaches slowly. "Eddie? You in there, Eddie?" he gets no response. He shines the flashlight through the back door's window, smooshing his face against the glass to look in. Once he's sure it's empty of anything, he approaches the open door and examines the front.

The keys are still in the ignition. Door left open and keys still in the ignition paints a story Gareth isn't sure he wants to read. That makes worry curl inside his body. He can't think of a single thing that would make Eddie abandon the van this quickly, too... scared? Worried? to bother to even close the drive door. He climbs in to try and start it but it won't. With the door left open for over 72 hours, the battery is dead.

He pockets the keys and locks up the van. If worse comes to worst, he can return the keys to Wayne.

He's almost back to the house when he hears shouting. He starts running, following the noise, and quickly finds Jason and Patrick on the shore, pulling their shoes off. His gaze flicks out to the lake and catches the sight of what can only be Eddie trying to get the motor of a motorboat started.

Well. Shit.

He doesn't think much more beyond that. He's just acting. He steps on the heels of his shoes to get out of them as quickly as possible and dives into the water. He's only seconds behind Patrick and Jason into the water, slowing to keep pace with them at first.

Gareth grew up in the Harrington swimming pool just like Steve had. Chrissy had. He's never been so glad for that as he is now, as he quits trying to pace himself and takes off, leaving Jason and Patrick behind.

Eddie's swinging the oar around wildly, as if they would stop any of them. He falters in his swinging when his eyes land on Gareth and he breathes out his name, "Gareth?"

One final stroke and Gareth can reach out of the water and grab the side of the boat. He doesn't haul himself aboard, but does haul himself high enough to look up at Eddie. "The police say you did it. Did you?"

Hurt flashes across Eddie's face but he answers, "No."

Gareth nods once, a decision made. Before he can respond though, Jason's caught up and Eddie is turning in the boat to wave the oar uselessly at him.

Clinging to the side of the boat gives Gareth a clear view of Patrick, who has stopped swimming. Jason and Eddie shout at each other as Gareth watches Patrick being to rise out of the water. "What the fucking shit!?"

Gareth doesn't know if Jason turns to look, he's too busy staring, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

"Don't look," Eddie says and the boat jostles as Eddie moves suddenly, dropping to his knees in the boat and throwing his hands up to block Gareth's view.

"What the fuck-" Gareth cuts himself off when he hears the snapping of bones. Jason is yelling and Gareth panics, pushes back from the boat, which makes Eddie lean more to block his eyesight, causing Eddie to fall out of the boat. On instinct, Gareth dives for him, the month and month spent in Steve's pool, hearing about pool safety kicking in.

Eddie doesn't really need rescuing, but he doesn't fight Gareth during the rescue. Patrick is no longer in the air when they breach the surface, and Jason is swimming back the way they came. Eddie flops himself back into the boat, then helps Gareth in as well.

They don't speak again until they've reached the other shore, in which case they just sit in the boat, soaked through, panting at each other as the adrenaline fades.

"What the fuck was that!?" Gareth doesn't shriek. He doesn't.

Eddie suddenly looks very severe and grim when he says, "that's what killed Chrissy."

[putaposyinyourhair]

Slowly but Also Like All at Once

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

noah diaz x mirage (they’re… y’know 💅)

warnings: mirage keeps flirting like an asshole and noah’s still in his feels but it gets tender

arcee shows up (and you know she should come with her own caution label)

“So, um…” Noah pauses for a second, to think on his words before he says them aloud. “You look good.”

He physically flinches away from his own words— from his own stupidity— and squeezes his eyes shut, not able to stop himself from reaching up with both hands to dig his knuckles into his eye sockets.

Fuckin’ idiot.

But Mirage just chuckles at his expense and Noah forces the embarrassment away with a deep breath.

“I meant like— you look… new,” he tries to correct, even though it still sounds wrong. “How’d that happen?”

“Oh, you mean how’d they get humpty dumpty back together again?” Mirage drawls.

Noah shifts in the sand, pulling away from Mirage’s side— where he’s been resting for a while now— and turns to sit cross-legged in the sand, staring up at the bot.

Mirage is looking up at the sky. The stars are starting to disappear behind dark clouds but the moon is still shining brightly over the water, its light reflecting off of Mirage’s silver face plating.

“Yeah,” Noah alludes, curiously.

Mirage glances down at him, frowning softly for a moment— such a quick little moment that Noah barely catches it— before he shrugs.

“OP spent like ten weeks in the Mojave looking for one of our medics who crash-landed there,” the mech reveals. “Ratchet. Dude’s usually such a buzzkill but… he’s good at what he does. I’ll give him that.”

Noah’s brows arch.

A medic? A new autobot?

“How many of you are there?” he asks before he can stop himself. “On Earth, I mean.”

One side of Mirage’s mouth tugs up into a sly smirk and Noah rolls his eyes before the bot can even reply.

“I told you already, boo, there’s none like me,” he declares pompously.

Noah reaches out and attempts to shove at Mirage’s thigh guard, uselessly because it does absolutely nothing.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Noah tells him. “You’re one of a kind.”

Mirage sits up, grinning.

“You better recognize!”

Noah barks out a short laugh.

“You a one of a kind dumbass,” he snickers softly.

Mirage reaches out to poke at his chest playfully and Noah tries to bat the digit away fruitlessly.

“Yeah, but you missed me,” the mech teases. “You already admitted it. No take backs.”

Noah doesn’t know why the words pull such a visceral reaction out of him, but they do. The happy smile drops from his face and he swallows drily.

“I did, man,” he concedes, fisting the material of his jeans in his hands. “I really fuckin’ did.”

Mirage moves so fast, it almost scares the shit out of Noah. The mech reaches out and suddenly Noah finds himself settled on top of the bot’s lap, pressed against his chest plates with one of Mirage’s servos cradling his back— well, the backpack strapped to his back anyway— whilst the other gently presses Noah’s face into the junction between his helm and his shoulderpad.

They’re… hugging?

Noah feels kind of frozen solid for a minute, unsure of what to do in this strange new situation. Sure, he’s been… inside— for lack of a better word— of Mirage before, in different modes of him too. And Noah doesn’t think either of them are strangers to physical proximity, after all they’d stuck pretty close to each other the whole time in Peru.

But this is something else. Something… more.

It’s nice though. Really nice.

So he relaxes into it.

It’s warm. And he can feel that same hum emanating from underneath the bot’s plating, like a low-frequency vibration that seems to soothe and calm something deep inside of Noah— he’s almost tempted to call it his soul, as corny as that fucking sounds.

Noah’s face feels more heated than usual.

“You a hugger, huh?” he mumbles, reaching up to run a few fingers against the glossy metal edge of that baseball cap-esque piece that rounds the back of Mirage’s helm.

This close, Mirage smells faintly of motor oil and something else Noah suspects must be alien in origin because he decides there’s no earthly scent he can compare it to. Not any that do it justice anyway.

Mirage’s digits move against the back of his head, digging into his curls as the mech’s chest plate’s rise and fall with a small stutter.

“For you?” he sighs. “Always.”

Noah’s eyes widen, his jaw clenching.

And his heart is fucking… fluttering. He really hopes his friend can’t feel it.

Something’s wrong. With him. Or with Mirage.

Noah doesn’t know what it is. But this is…

It is weird. Or, maybe not weird. Weird isn’t the right word for it.

“Mirage.”

Noah pulls away from the mech so fast, a yelp bursting out of him as he nearly tumbles off of the bot’s lap— he’s sure he would’ve gone sprawling into the sand between his friends’ outstretched legs had it not been for Mirage’s servos keeping him upright. He reaches out and grabs onto one of the bot’s gauntlets.

And before he can look away— to locate the source of the newcomer’s voice, a newcomer Noah is pretty sure is Arcee— he looks up at Mirage.

Oh.

Mirage’s face is doing… something. The mech’s optics are darker than usual— not glowing as bright a blue— and the silver metal just beneath his optics is tinged with a bluish hue, something Noah’s never seen it do before.

Noah doesn’t want to assume but it almost looks like a—

“Aww, Arcee, why you scarin’ my boy like that?” Mirage whines out, throwing his helm back like an unruly child who’s been told he has to eat all the vegetables on his plate. “His heart’s beating so fast!”

Okay, so Mirage can feel his heartbeat when they’re this close.

Wonderful.

Noah huffs— mortified but unwilling to admit it, even though his cheeks feel so flushed he probably looks like he could be doing an impression of a tomato— and reaches back to gently push away the servo Mirage has at his back.

“I wasn’t scared,” he grumbles, grunting as he steps down from Mirage’s lap and back onto the sand. “Jus’ surprised… that’s all.”

Arcee steps closer, smiling softly as she glances between them for a moment.

“Sorry, Noah,” she has the decency to apologize. “I really didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Noah waves her apology off.

“Nah, seriously,” he stresses, reaching up to grab onto the straps of his backpack. “I wasn’t scared or nothin’.”

Yeah, he kind of was. But he was mostly embarrassed.

Was it normal for cybertronians to hug humans? To hold humans the way Mirage was holding him?

Arcee isn’t giving him any indication. So maybe it’s not as big of a deal as it feels to Noah.

The femme fixes her gaze on Mirage, one optical ridge arching as both servos rest at her skirt plates. Her lower body cocking to one side as she watches the blue and silver bot rise off of the ground, raining sand down all over Noah who groans and steps away, reaching up to sweep it off of his head.

He’s definitely going to need a good, long shower later to get all that sand out of his curls.

“I said I’d cover for you for a couple of hours, Mirage,” Arcee points out, then mimics glancing down at a watch on her gauntlet in a very human-like way. “It’s been six.”

Noah’s eyes widen, glancing down at his own watch quickly.

Six hours? Oh, he definitely missed dinner. His ma’s gonna kill him.

It’s nearing sunrise already.

“It’s time,” Arcee emphasizes. "Optimus will not be pleased."

A sharp wave of what can only be panic rushes through Noah. It’s so quick, engulfing him from head to toe. He feels exactly the same way he’d felt when he’d had to stand there and watch Mirage be taken away. He thinks he makes some kind of tiny strangled noise.

The overwhelming sensation leaves him blanched and breathless.

“Arcee!” Mirage chastises, dropping to one knee beside Noah. “You’re not helping.”

Noah feels a couple of his friend’s digits slip underneath his chin and he lets the mech tenderly lift his face so he’s looking up into Mirage’s now bright blue optics.

“W-what is she talkin’ about?” he manages to squeak out, despite the dread that feels like it’s got a physical hold of his heart in his chest.

“It's nothing bad!” Mirage swears, holding his other servo up, palm out. “I promise.”

Noah swallows the lump in his throat and exhales shakily.

“Okay,” he yields. “Okay, sorry.”

He feels kind of stupid about his reaction, childish, and pulls his chin away from the mech's digits. But he doesn’t look away.

Mirage gives him a look that Noah thinks translates as sheepish, before he stands, optics flickering about for a moment like he’s struggling to make himself meet Noah’s unwavering gaze.

“Okay, so, uh,” Mirage stammers, reaching up to rub at the back of his helm with one slightly twitchy servo. “Well, you see, what had happened was—”

Arcee huffs.

“Ratchet has yet to give him the all clear so Optimus expressly forbid him from leaving," she reveals. "So of course he snuck out of the medbay without permission to come see you tonight, Noah.”

Oh. Yeah, sure.

Noah’s heart doesn’t feel like it’s swelling with joy and about to burst out of his chest or anything.

He’s totally like… chill about it.

[vilentt]

He’s Psychotic

Feyd Rautha x Reader

Paul Atredies x Reader

AO3 Counterpart

PART III - PART II

Caladan

(the next day)

Pacing, pacing, and pacing. You were pacing back and forth in your bedroom while debating whether you should jump out your window or take and bath and then jump.

“What the fuck!” You screamed, panting. You’re normally very ladylike and calm but what happened yesterday completely ruined? No—changed the proximity between you and Paul. You don’t think you can face him with a straight face anymore.

Letting out a deep breath you decide to have a bath to calm your nerves.

Your back has been aching weirdly anyway.

-

You left the bathroom with a silk robe around your lower waist and torso with a silky head wrap on top of your wet hair. You sat down at your dresser and looked at yourself in the mirror just to notice a figure sitting on the steps of your indoor underground aquarium.

-

As a child, you loved animals especially reptiles like snakes and aquatic animals like manta rays, and so at the ripe age of 12, you got your room redesigned.

Introducing a little shallow pond-like area near the large window in your room which is around 3 feet deep.

(This is how I imagine the room/room layout, Sorry if it’s bad I tried LOL)

-

You turned around slowly, holding the silk of the robe close to your cleavage. Surprise, It’s Paul. You yelp loudly at the sight of him.

“Paul! You scared the life out of me!” You say as the breath in your voice drops.

“I just wanted to escort you back to dinner since mother and father are back.” “Well, u-um Paul you don’t need to do that.”

“Just pretend I’m a prince and you’re my lady since stammering is quite un-princess-like.”

You pause. Un-princess like? Who does he think he is you criticize you, he is NOT your father.

“Excuse me but Paul, not that I’m not grateful for your advice it’s just that I don’t think you should be giving it with your temper. Plus you’re not my father.” You said with an upward smile as you turned back to face your vanity.

His chuckle after seemed threatening. “Whatever you say, m’lady.” Ignoring his statement, you slowly started applying your routine body lotion to your smooth, almost feline-like skin. You laughed to yourself after thinking about how you’re like one of the people from Geidi Prime from toe to neck.

As you start to slowly untie your robe you become aware of the other presence again. “Paul, do you mind waiting outside? I’d rather keep my private parts, private.”

He leaned back, placing two palms on the hard tiling behind him, “Like it’s something I haven’t seen before.”

You’ve dealt with a lot of stress already so you decided to play it off cooly, “Haha, very funny now shoo.”

“Looks like you really want me to go, huh?” chuckling you said, “Glad I got my point across now brother.”

“Just wait outside, I can ensure you I won’t make you wait too long”

“What the princess says, shall happen.” and he left.

-

Geidi Prime

(You were 8 months old and they were four)

Baffling out random coos while you sat atop Paul’s lap with Feyd’s eyes almost looking like they were inspecting you.

“She looks exactly like you.” “From the outside or inside?” Paul asked almost rapidly.

Feyd looked surprised at the question, “Why would you ask that?”

“I’ve never seen anyone look at a tiny baby so precisely before,” Paul answered as he tugged on your soft cheek.

Letting out a sigh, Feyd said “Well, we from Geidi Prime have little guesses about how babies are going to be in the future, and based on that information, we choose their role on Geidi Prime.”

Paul’s eyes glistened at his words, “Can you tell me her prediction? please.”

Feyd took a second to think and then sighed and gave in to his wants.

“I might be wrong but, she’ll grow into a fierce woman on the outside, on the inside, and mentally, she’ll be built to rely on her closest. She will be academically strong and she will grow up into possibly, the most beautiful girl in all eight fiefdoms. Truly a remarkable woman.” he said with a smile surprisingly.

Paul turned baby you around and traced his fingers along your adorable chubby cheeks with happiness. “Always knew she would be destined for greatness.”

-

Caladan

(present: you are 14 and Paul and Feyd are 17)

You came out of your room in a beautiful baby blue dress that ended above your knees with a dragging train. It had a row of natural diamonds near your waist.

As you exited you turned around to shut the door and faced forward to see Paul standing still, waiting for you.

Paul was wearing a classic Atredies formal wear for men. Normally, it’s in the colour of house Atredies but today Paul chose to wear it in black.

You couldn’t lie he looked handsome in his attire, it made your cheeks turn red for a second.

His eyes raked along your dress. He turned around a held his arm out for you to hook on to. You accepted and started making your way to the dining hall.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Good, Little, Girl <3 Part 3[*?]

A/N: all I’ve been writing recently is smut, smut, smut and I feel like such a whore. I’m so proud of myself

Summary: uh, so this is set a little later (like a couple of months so they’ve had time to hang out and reader’s had a chance to get nice and comfortable with our Azzie)

Warnings: depression, angst, scars, a bit of sexuality, mentions of bdsm.

-Part 1- -Part 2-

“And you’re sure they’re fine with this?” You pressed, following him inside his house. “I checked, stop stressing,” he threw over his shoulder as you removed your shoes from your feet, padding along after him. “This is supposed to be a fun, stress-free evening,” he emphasised, ascending the stairs, his long legs allowing him to go three at a time with casual ease. “I know, I know,” you muttered, following behind him at a more relaxed pace.

He held the door open for you, allowing you to brush past his chest as you entered his bedroom. “Look at you go,” he teases, “not even hesitating.” You rolled you eyes at his mocking nature, having grown accustomed to it over the past few months. “You’ve proved to be entirely harmless,” you threw over your shoulder as you turned.

Azriel quirked a brow at your bold assumption, but before he could throw a sardonic quip at you, you’d already turned to observe his bed. “Hey, your bed’s made,” you shoot him a look, “how luxurious.” He rolled his eyes, pushing off the door frame, moving to the TV, shutting the door behind him. “What do you feel like tonight?” He asked, locating the remote stuffed beneath some neatly folded clothes he hadn’t had the chance to shove away before you arrived.

You hummed behind him, and he could practically see you comically tapping your finger over your sweet, lovely lips. He swallowed. Keep it down, Az. He can’t be scaring you off now. You’re just becoming comfortable around him. “What do you feel about Horrid Henry?” You spoke, settling on something quicker than usual.

He snorted at the choice, turning to find you with a serious look on your face. “Something funny?” You looked unamused. He chuckles to himself, shaking his head, “what is it with you and kids shows?” You glowered at him as his hand settled on the small of your back, guiding you to his bed. “Do you have something against Horrid Henry, Azriel?” You muttered, crawling onto the right hand side of his bed. “Nothing at all.” You raised a brow to tell him you didn’t believe a word of it.

You paused for a moment, thinking. “Why don’t you pick something out?”

Azriel nodded, “Horrid Henry it is.” He could feel your scowl from across the bed as he settled down. “I’m serious. You always let me choose to the point I’m genuinely concerned about the things you watch in your free time.” He laughed at that but continued clicking through the TV. It was only when you crawled across to him, settling at his side and tugging the remote from his hands that he looked at you.

And his eyes immediately dropped to your mouth. Thank god you weren’t looking at him as you navigated to the search bar. “Come on, just pick a film. Doesn’t even have to be one you like, or’ve watched.” Azriel flipped the lights off, making the TV stand out in the dark room. “You always let me take the lead,” you spoke, looking at him, trying to get his attention. “Why don’t you even take control?”

He knew you weren’t doing it on purpose, but it just sounded…

“You never take control anywhere else in your life,” he pointed out, turning to look at you, making you flush. “Ignoring that,” you muttered, eyes flicking away for a second, “I don’t want to you hold back just because you think I can’t handle it.”

Jesus Christ.

He hummed, turning back to the TV, taking back the remote. “Fine,” he sighed, exhausted, selecting something though you didn’t pay attention. You sat there, quietly, watching his profile. The cut of his jaw, the set of his nose, the shape of his mouth. Those beautiful hazel eyes, a swirl of matcha green and coffee beans.

“Why did you have handcuffs on your bed?”

He startled, hazel eyes sliding to yours, alarmed. His gaze ran over you, tracing your form before again meeting your eyes, settling back into the cushions. “How long have you been gathering up the courage to ask?” He drawled, attention returning to the screen. God knew he could no longer look you in the eye to answer that. “It was more a build up of curiosity,” you answered, removing you attention from him.

You waited silently for his answer, but nothing came. “Azriel?” You prompted, turning to look up at him. He attempted to keep his eyes on the screen as he set the film playing, but he could feel the warm pressure of your shoulder against his bicep, and it was taking up most of his awareness. His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, turning to see you watching with enlarged pupils. From the darkness.

“I think you know why,” he managed, voice coming out smooth and unruffled. As if he hadn’t spent nights with his hand fisted around his cock, fantasising about what you would look like with those cuffs decorating your pretty wrists. He waited for a reaction, but you didn’t seem surprised. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. “So…what? Women just let you tie them up?”

“People,” he corrected with a wry smile, harkening back to an earlier conversation. “People,” you repeated, following along with him, chasing your answer.

He sighed when your attention didn’t shift back to the TV. His intent to help you hold your ground was backfiring on him horribly. “I like being in control,” he finally admitted, staring you down as you peered up him with those open, curious eyes. “It’s reassuring to have that sense of power, especially during something that can be so intimate.” You were quiet for a moment, before dipping your head in a nod, “I see.”

You didn’t seem to be having any particular reaction other than bland acceptance. It was a little unnerving. “You don’t seem particularly surprised,” he spoke, watching you for any kind of indication to your thoughts. He got it though, when the tips of your ears flush, cheeks warming. You looked away, “I did some research…” You admitted quietly. “There were some interesting…video essays, on the topic.”

It took a moment for him to comprehend your prim language, but when he did, a bark of laughter flew from his mouth. Your head whipped back to him, alarmed at the startled sound. “You watched porn,” he drawled, looking at you incredulously. A familiar sense of ease settled over him as he watched your lips part, eyes widening at his words. You turned away from him, blushing furiously as you sat straighter.

“I didn’t want to judge something I knew nothing about,” you answered, tone matter-of-fact. How many times had he thought about hearing you order him about in that same strict tone? Too many, Az. Get a grip. Still, his lips curled into a grin, “and what was your strictly academic conclusion?” Your eyes flicked to his, marking his mocking tone, before snapping away.

He waited patiently but it seemed you were set on ignoring him. He bumped his elbow into your side to get your attention. “What did you think?” He asked, softer this time, the teasing lilt to his voice settling into a more serious one. Your jaw shifted as you took an inhale, “from what I could gather…” you began, attempting to keep your tone even, “a video doesn’t satisfyingly demonstrate the trust between partners. I found it straining and nauseating.”

Azriel bit his tongue to keep himself from offering pieces of information you would not want. His heart sank a little. “I see,” he settled on, repeating your words back to you. He deflated into his pillows. That was the end of that, then. There was no way anything would work between you with such vast differences.

“That being said…” you spoke quietly, yet loud enough to snap his attention back to you. Your eyes slid to his, a glint sparking, “…in a written form, where I can understand the emotion behind it all…?” He held his breath, unable to tear his gaze from your own. His heart skipped a beat when the edges of your mouth softened, “I can see why you find it so appealing.”

His head went quiet. Thoughts ceased as he replayed your words in his head. I can see why you find it so appealing. Your eyes had left his, returning to the screen, but he was still locked on you. Was that a sign? Had you just been trying to comfort him, or had you just flirted with him? With any other person, he would have been able to tell. But either way, it was so out of character. The suggestive tip of your lips, the dark spark in your eyes. Those weren’t things he associated with you.

Fuck.

He prayed you wouldn’t look at his lap. That the room was dark enough for you not to notice anything off about him.

“Would you ever try it?” Goddammit, Azriel. Even to his own ears he sounded breathless. What was happening?

You head tipped back to look up at him, questioningly. “Try what?”

Arousal spiked in his lower stomach. Were you really asking that? He swallowed, licking his strangely dry lips, “bdsm?” The letters alone caused your head to dip in embarrassment. “I’m pretty sure you have to have a partner to try it with, first of all,” you laughed to yourself. It sounded like the ringing of silver bells, and he nearly forgot the conversation. “I think I’d have to trust the person a lot before trying anything wild,” you admitted, a smile still on your lips as you watched your hands in your lap. “Someone I could count on and know they’d listen to me,” you hedged, the words unraveling from your tongue.

“I guess…someone like you…”

He went preternaturally still as the admission came from your lips. Someone like you. Someone I could count on… know they’d listen to me.

I’d treat you so good.

He watched from behind his eyes as your own widened, looking at him with a startled look on your beautiful face. He’d said that out loud, hadn’t he? Guess he was doing this now, then.

“I would never hurt you,” he spoke quietly, looking deep into your eyes. “You can trust me with that much.” His fingers brushed yours. Fuck it. His palm moved over your own, gently weaving your digits together. “Give me a chance, and I won’t squander it. I can promise I’ll make you so happy.”

Your lips parted, heart pounding in your chest.

He just confessed.

To you.

Shit. What do you say?

An unsure smile settled nervously on your lips, teetering on the edge of dropping off your face entirely. “I might be into physical pain, Azriel,” you breathed, hands trembling. He watched as something sad flashed through your eyes. “But emotional pain isn’t part of it,” you managed. “So if this is your way of messing around, it’s not cool, okay?”

Azriel shook his head, squeezing your shuddering hand gently. “I’m not messing around with you,” he whispered, eyes locked onto yours, “I’m promising. To treat you well, I mean.”

He waited anxiously, watching you, feeling as your fingers twitched as if considering pulling away from him. His heart thundered against his rib cage, nerves crawling beneath his skin. Your eyes scanned over him, as if analysing him. When they returned to his, he held his breath. You swallowed, “I’d like that.”

He didn’t dare release the air in his lungs, too scared you’d change your mind. You eyes flickered about, before returning to his nervously. “You’re… I feel like I can trust you,” you whisper, and you’re surprised there’s no tremor to your voice. “So I’m going to trust you, Azriel. Because I like you.”

Exhale.

You watched him, fear pumping through your blood, waiting. His eyes softened, free hand lifting to glide beneath your jaw, tilting your head. You held your breath as he leaned forward slowly, giving you the chance to pull away should you now wish to have his mouth over yours. But you did. So badly.

Your eyelids slid shut, leaning toward him. Permission granted.

Azriel nearly groaned as he recognised the action, relief flowing through his body, providing soothing reprieve. His lips were soft against your own, pillowy and hot as he applied a gentle pressure over you, swallowing down your feel.

It was hesitant. Nervous. Exploratory.

Neither of you had thought this far ahead.

He pulled away first, pleasure running beneath his surface as it took a moment for you to open your eyes. When you did, they looked glazed, hazy. Your gaze latched onto his, then dipped to his mouth.

Neither of you could resist the pull.

His mouth returned to yours, opening over your parted lips as he drank from you, tasting your flavour as his tongue licked over your teeth, flicking in a way that had you thinking about what he would feel like elsewhere.

A moan sounded somewhere in between your hot mouths. Your eyes squeezed tight when you realised it had come from you. Instead of teasing you for it, he took it as encouragement, spurring his movements on.

Tentatively, he moved over you, keeping you beneath him as you sank into the pillows. Your hands gingerly, ran up his biceps, curling around his neck. Your fingers played with the silky wisps of hair at his nape. Another moan lifted from your throat, only to be swallowed by Azriel, greedily taking every sound you gave him, treasuring each one.

Slowly, his mouth moved to the corner of your lips, kissing down your jaw, trailing over the column of your throat, feeling your breath hitch beneath his tongue. Your lungs were shaking as he latched his mouth over a spot on your neck, softly sucking, taking the skin between his teeth as he nipped. You whimpered, fingers tightening in his hair as he continued down. Past your collar bones, inching his way down your body. Between your breasts, mapping out his own pathway.

So carefully, he settled between your legs, and you thought you would melt right then and there. He looked up at you, bay and black tea leaves connecting. “Have you ever had someone between your legs?” He breathed, voice coming out horse. Heat swirled in your lower abdomen, eyes weighing with lust and need.

You were too out of it, answering his question honestly, “yes.” His eyes flicked up to yours, sincerity woven through the melodic chords of his voice, “you’re going to forget.” Your eyelids fluttered shut as you basked in his touch, loosing yourself in the feel of his fingers dipping beneath the band of your tights, pulling them off. Your skin felt free, but sensitive, having kept them covered for the past few days.

His hands wrapped over the tops of your thighs - near your hip bone. His heavenly mouth pressed to your abdomen, trailing down reverently, lips meeting the fabric of your underwear as your back arched with budding anticipation. “Azriel,” you breathed, a quiet plea.

Head silent, filled only with you, he began to descend between your thighs, memorising every second should you wake tomorrow and decide to take your words back. His hand slid down over your thigh and he stilled.

Mind frozen, his fingertips traced your skin again. The soft skin, that would yield beneath force, held the puckering slices of scars. Recent ones. Disbelievingly, he pulled back, the light of the TV illuminating the room enough for his eyes to pick out the scratches littering the tops of your thighs. His heart sunk to his stomach as he looked lower, the skin of your shins filled with pursed marks.

All at once, you jerked upright, returning to your body. You’d been swept away by the feel of his loving touch, forgetting why your skin felt so relieved to breathe after having to be hidden.

Awareness flooded your body, skin tingling where his fingers had brushed as you pulled your legs to your body, shoving up the bed. Your arms wrapped over your shins, as if it would wipe the marks from his memory, what you wish you could do to your skin.

Widened, pain-filled eyes locked on your own. Shocked.

Tears flooded your vision, blurring him as they rolled down your cheeks. Every emotion you’d felt over the past month whipping down upon you. Hot, salty water traced forceful, heavy streams down your cheeks, rolling beneath your jaw before dropping heavily onto the your stomach.

“I—…” You don’t know what to say. Just frantic to explain it away, pretend it’s nothing.

Azriel stared at you, eyes struggling to lift from the red-rimmed scars that glared at him angrily. He watched as your hands splayed across your shins, attempting to hide as much of the damage as possible. How painful the sight was. How small your body looked, folded in on itself, head lowered in shame, shoulders trembling with quiet sobs.

Scars littering your skin.

His girl.

The girl he loved, who sliced herself up, not knowing how to manage the torrent of emotions tearing her down.

“What are these?” He asked, voice cracking as his chest hollowed out. How could you ever lay a finger on your body? How could you wield a blade so viciously against yourself?

“I—…I’m sorry,” you sobbed, voice weak and wobbly. “I didn’t mean— You weren’t supposed—…” The tears splattered as the drops burst on contact. The bed dipped, and pain sang throat your chest, gripping your throat, choking on tears you tried to swallow. You tugged your lip between your teeth, hand covering your mouth in small attempt to quiet yourself.

Tentatively, he reached out. He didn’t want to startle, or scare you. But he needed you to know he was there. Even as you were crumbling before his eyes. He needed to hold you together before you disintegrated entirely.

One arm reached below your lower back, lifting you from the bed as he pulled you gently to his chest. “It’s okay…” he breathed, hoarsely, throat wet with tamping down his own emotions. You were pulled into his lap, one thigh settled over his own as he tucked you neatly into the strong frame of his body.

My sweet, clever girl.

The sobs broke from your lips, quiet moans of pain singing from your mouth. He held you through it all, hands gripping your upper back to keep you tight against him. Your own arms wound around his waist, crying into his chest as your emotions spilled over. “I’m— I’m sorry, Azriel… I’m so— so sorry.” A stinging feeling split through his breast bone as he held you tighter. “Stop apologising,” he whispered softly, breath fluttering against the side of your head.

You sniffled, shaking your head, “I’m sorry— I don’t know what—” A sob burst from you, trembling in his arms. You didn’t even know what you were trying to say as groans of pain leave your lips, muffled by his chest. His hand brushed over your hair, mouth pressing delicate kisses to your head, over your temple.

He pulled you away, far enough to look at you. Your eyes were wet with tears, cheeks shining as the skin puffed, your upper lip was damp as your lower one trembled, more tears cascading down. Small strands of hair had stuck to your temples. The sight nearly has him collapsing in one himself. He’d just manage to have you, and already you were caving in on yourself.

“Hey,” he whispered, thumbs brushing beneath your lashes, attempting to dry your cheeks but more wetness flowed in their place. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmured, a slight tremor in his voice, “it’ll pass.”

You shook your head, “it always comes back. It just— it won’t leave me alone. I can’t do anything about it. It just keeps crushing into me,” you sobbed, hands wrapping over his forearms. “You have to work through this,” he breathed, words fluttering over your skin, “you have to make it out.”

You shook your head again, “I can’t.”

“Look at me,” he demanded softly. Reluctantly, you raised your gaze to his, “you’re going to make it through, okay?” He whispered softly, but firmly. “It’s just a matter of minutes, seconds ticking by. One at a time. Just take them slowly, okay? Don’t think about outlasting all of it. Just go one second at a time, and they’ll tick by before you know it.”

Your sobs slow, evening out, peering up at him. “Look at you,” he praised, quietly, “it’s already been a few minutes.” You sniffed, small tears pooling at the edges of your mind. But that pain had begun to soothe, melting out across your chest, becoming a dull thrum. “There you go,” he mollified, the sway to the deep timbre of his voice resonating somewhere far inside of you.

“Why don’t you relax for a little, yeah?” He soothed, gently settling you back down into the pillows, tucking you beneath a warm blanket. “Wrap yourself up, and we can put something on in the background. Or just sit together. Whatever you want,” he tags on. You curl back into the bed, revelling in the tenderness of his touch, his attentive nature you were just getting to see.

You just sat there, watching him, mind blanking, throwing all your words out just to make room for him in your head. You drank him in, absorbing the pads of his fingertips, the glow of his skin, the depthless swirl of hazel. Devastating.

“What do you feel like?” He whispered, watching you with those beautiful, beautiful eyes.

When you moved to reach for him he came to you, leaning into your touch as he settled down beside you. His heart thundered in his chest as you curled into his side, not saying a word. The silence was pristine, perfect against your ears as you tucked against him, crying into his solid warmth.

You couldn’t muster up the energy to talk, melting into his side, hoping if you kept your eyes closed, focused on the feeling of his skin against your, you could sink into him, forget about yourself. The pads of your fingers pressed against his solid muscle, bathing in the feeling of his clothes lapping at your skin.

The moment would end eventually. But you didn’t want it to.

He was comforting, and strong. You felt safe and tearful around him. Your mind went quiet whenever his eyes touched yours, whenever his words warmed your ears.

Maybe one day it would pass.

As you drifted off in his arms, you found yourself thinking how many seconds it had been, but you couldn’t count. The thoughts had eddied from your mind, replaced with the sound of his voice, soothing as it washed over you.

Taglist: @myheartfollower

[unreadpoppy]

down by the river - chapter 4

Raphael x Warlock!Tav

Read on AO3

Chapter 3

Raphael snapped his fingers, a bottle of wine appearing in front of him. He filled his chalice up, and then brought it to his lips. He took a sip of it and then spoke. 

“Tav, Tav, Tav…. you’ve gotten yourself in quite the situation.” He spoke. “I expected better from you.” Raphael took another sip. “The fact that you did not even reach out to me the moment you fled the ship wounds me, truly.” 

She frowned. “It’s not like it was my intention to get captured by the nautiloid ship.” Tav sighed. “Besides, the only reason I was taken was because you sent me to -”

Raphael had finished drinking and interrupted her by harshly putting the chalice down on the table. “It matters not how, why or when you were infected.” He had raised his voice, putting both hands on the table and slowly getting up from his seat. “What matters is that one of my most valuable assets is at risk of turning into a mind flayer.” 

His dark eyes burned into hers. “Do you know what happens when the host of a parasite goes through ceremorphosis?” He asked, rhetorically. 

She shook her head. He leaned in closer, inches away from her face. “They lose their souls, Tav.” Her eyes widened in fear. Gale and Lae’zel had already explained the process, but she had been unaware of that detail. For her, the situation had become even more dire. Tav had  fought hard, in the past, to keep her soul in place. 

She could not risk losing it. 

Raphael took a step back. “Besides, you are in breach of contract.” 

That was enough to take Tav out of her trance. “What?! Why?” 

“By getting yourself in this situation, you have failed to finish the mission I had given you, breaking clause five of our deal.”

Tav had read the contract back and forth so much over the years that the words came easily to her. 

‘The little mouse shall complete every mission given to her, to please the fox, lest she finds herself trapped between his claws.’ 

“I am very displeased, Tav, considering how good of a warlock you have been all these years. I would have every right to punish you.” Tav closed her eyes, ready to hear her sentence. Raphael smirked. “But I won’t. At least, not in the way you are thinking.” 

She opened her eyes to look at him. He could see the confusion written on her face.

“No bodily harm will come to you and you’ll retain your warlock powers.” He paused dramatically. “You’ll find the cure for your parasite problem on your own.” He adjusted his doublet and continued. “You will not be able to contact me or reach out to me in any way, shape or form. If I wish to speak to you, I will do so but until then, I will not be helping you.” 

“What? But you said -” She referenced the earlier conversation with the rest of her party, how Raphael claimed they could help them with a snap of his fingers. 

“I know what I said, Tav. But this is your punishment.”

Tears filled her eyes. In their years together, Raphael never did something like this, he had never left her to her own devices in this way. For the first time, in a very long time, Tav was scared. 

“Please, don’t do this. Don’t leave me alone.” 

“You won’t be alone, you have your little friends.” She could hear a tint of jealousy in his voice. He noticed the look on her face, and his gaze softened slightly. 

Sighing, Raphael added. “When the time is right, I will find you and you will finish what you started, but until then, you are on your own.”

She nodded and then dropped her head. Before he sent her back, he added. “Oh and don’t forget clause three. No talking about our contract in detail to others.” 

He snapped his fingers and Tav was back at camp, all eyes turned to her. 

[cactusnymph]

hugs 27 for anyone with karlach :3 she's my wife uwu

Karlach noticed that the Shadow Cursed Lands are especially hard on Astarion. Not because he minds never seeing the sun—that is something he loves to complain about but that doesn't actively bother him—but because he keeps going hungry. None of the wildlife here can sustain him and Karlach knows that he's too proud to ask for a meal every night.

Or at all, that is.

This, of course, leads to Astarion being weaker and slower in combat, his movements sluggish and his steps bordering on stumbles, almost as if he's drunk. It had to come bite them in the ass eventually and Karlach realizes too late that maybe tiptoeing around Astarion too much isn't the right strategy when it comes to feeding.

Giving him time is good. She knows that. She knows it's the right thing. But him going hungry for days on end and then almost dying because of it, that's simply not alright. Karlach will not allow it to happen again.

She's so relieved that Wyll and her are both there when push comes to shove while they're fighting that fucked up drider and his crew. Karlach isn't exactly scared of spiders, but she's also not terribly fond of them and this huge dude who looks like some sort of fucked up centaur is not doing it for her at all.

Especially not when she saw him trying to slash Astarion into tiny little, undead pieces.

After the fight she hoists him up to carry him, putting his arms around her neck while holding up his knees in a very limp piggyback style. He weighs way too little, that twig of a man.

She can feel his breath tickle the side of her neck and Karlach sighs into the shadows as she carries him, wondering when her stupid dick will finally get over the fact that she won't be getting any action any time soon. Astarion almost died and her skin is on fire just because he's breathing on her neck.

For fuck's sake, Cliffgate, get your priorities straight.

"Hey, Fangs", she mumbles, turning her head as far back as she can so she doesn't have to talk too loudly. Astarion mumbles something unintelligible and his lips move against her skin.

She's so normal about all of this.

"You can feed on me, if you'd like. Right now, I mean. Get some of that strength back."

Karlach knows that some people are really into the whole blood drinking thing and she won't kinkshame anyone, but for her it's just offering a sandwich to someone who's been starving for a long time and well. She doesn't mind any accompanying pain. She wonders if her blood tastes weird because it's not pumped through her body by an actual heart but by a machine.

"I'm fine", Astarion sniffs. Karlach snorts.

"Stop being so difficult about this. I know you're hungry as fuck. Just do it already."

There's a pause and then she can feel Astarion's arms tighten around her as he pulls himself up a little bit to get a better angle on her throat. Karlach cocks her head to the side a little to give him better access. Then his teeth find purchase and he starts sucking. Hard.

Karlach grits her teeth through the pain and the wooziness accompanying the process. Astarion drinks and drinks, his gulps getting greedier with each second and Karlach wonders if he'll stop on his own accord or if she'll have to stop him before she passes out in the middle of this cursed landscape.

Astarion's arms shift one of his hands comes to rest on her chest, right above her infernal engine. If Karlach had a heart, it would beat so fucking fast right now. This feels less like a necessary grip to hold onto her and more like a hug. Astarion isn't really the hugging type, though. So maybe this is all wishful thinking. After what feels like forever Astarion detaches from Karlach's neck and he's breathing hard when he does. Karlach wants to ask if he's alright, if he feels any better, when his tongue darts out to lick off any remaining blood drops off the side of her neck. She makes a sound at the back of her throat and the flames that always flicker over her skin flare for a second.

Yup. No big deal. She's so, so brave about all of this.

"Feeling any better?", she asks and her voice sounds as if she ate three pounds of chalk. Great. She'll have to go jerk off in the bathtub later. Again.

"Much better", he says, his voice also hoarse. Then, very quietly: "Thank you, darling."

"Don't mention it. And—uh. Just. Whenever you need it, yeah?"

His grip around her tightens some more.

"This is a gift", Astarion mumbles. "I won't forget it."

feel free to send me more of these<3

[skyalent]

Witches Can Be Good | Supernatural x Scarlet Witch! Reader - Part 2

You all get a part 2 although it is short, but I wrote it anyway because it was requested by katelynn on Quotev and @cloudykoookie on Tumblr! Let me know if you want a part 3 (although I probably will skip the brothers reacting to the movies with Wanda in it because I feel like I’d be copying Thera’s idea too much. I will write how they felt after watching the movies though.)

Part 1 *~* Part 2 (You are here) *~* Part 3 *~* Part 4???

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Part 2: Wanda

Y/n frantically called the brothers as she came back to a room that was trashed and empty. Her heart beated as she saw Dean unconscious on the floor. 

“Dean!” She shouted, trying to get him to wake up as she pushed his shoulder.

Dean groaned, “I’m good, sweetheart, still alive.” 

“Where’s Sam?” 

At that, Dean sat up with some help from Y/n, taking in the room.

“Son of a-” She heard Dean mumble before talking to her, “Damn ghost possessed Sam after he picked up a paper he found in the motel room. I didn’t realize until he straight up attacked me.” 

“What was on the paper?”

“An ultrasound.” 

Y/n’s heart dropped. She never got an ultrasound of Billy and Tommy. She could only understand that grieving ghost even more. Y/n too would have been attached to an ultrasound of her children. 

“Witchy? Hey, sweetheart, you with me?” 

Y/n snapped out of it, her eyes focusing on Dean who was now looking at her concerned. 

“Sorry, sorry. Let’s- Let’s go save Sam.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam’s possessed body stood watching a park, his eyes silently watching the children play. From behind, Y/n approached him, Dean ready to take him down if needed hiding nearby. 

“You must miss them.” Y/n stated softly, coming to stand next to the possessed Sam. She knew the ghost wouldn’t dare try anything or else the children would be scared away. 

“What are you talking about?” Sam’s voice asked. Y/n gave a soft, reminiscent smile. 

“I miss them too, my boys.” 

With no response, Y/n took that as a sign to keep talking. “I had kids too Wanda.” Y/n internally sighed. The ghost had her old name, but this ghost wasn’t a version of her. No version of her would exist here since she went beyond the alternate universes and to a different multiverse, one outside of the of called, “MCU,” whatever that meant. She felt bad for this Wanda, to experience similar things she had gone through. 

“Two twins, my Billy and Tommy, my two beautiful baby boys. I won’t tell you it gets better because that’s a lie. No one understands a mother’s pain, and I’m sorry your husband wasn’t as understanding. But let me tell you something someone once told me…” 

Y/n took Sam’s hands, looking him in the eyes as both their eyes held tears. 

“What is grief, if not love persevering?” 

With that, the tears fell, and Sam’s hand shakily grabbed the ultrasound from his pocket and placed it in Y/n’s hands, gently closing Y/n’s hands around it before walking to the bench and sitting down, watching the children. 

Quickly, Y/n set it on fire, letting the ghost finally reunite with her children and Sam return to control his body. Both brothers quietly approached Y/n who still had tears silently falling from her eyes. 

“...let’s go home…” she whispered, walking past the brothers to the Impala. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Back in the bunker, Dean was catching Sam up on everything he had missed while Y/n was in her room, collecting herself. 

“She said she had kids, Sam! Twins!” Dean exclaimed, still a bit shocked that the person he lowkey kinda had a crush on had kids. But having kids meant there had to be someone else involved and Dean didn’t want to think about Y/n potentially already having a lover. 

“What? Where are they? They shouldn’t be brought into the hunting life-”

“Had kids, Sam. Past tense.” 

Sam paused, “Was it because she was a witch? Other hunters hunted down her family?” 

At that question the room went silent, both brothers pondering on the question. 

“She didn’t say how they died, but I’m not sure I want to ask- who are you!?” Dean stood up quickly, pointing his gun at the stranger entering the room. Sam followed with his own gun pointed at them. 

“Oh I could tell you all about it, dears~” the woman grinned, “Oh, don’t be so tense. I’m Wanda’s good friend!”

“Who’s Wanda?” (A/n: I’ll do you all better, Why is Wanda?) 

“Ah, so she changed her name… well! It’s obvious you two won’t give me a warm welcome so, here’s her housewarming gift! Or should I say universe-warming gift? I did find this in this universe, I bet she’d love it so much.” The woman set down a bag filled with DVD cases before giving them an eerie grin. 

“Tell your dear witch that her favorite neighbour says hi~!” The strange woman made a quick escape, a purple light blinding the brothers causing them to shoot their guns. But once they opened their eyes, the woman was gone. 

Glancing at each other, Sam made his way to the bag of DVDs, picking up the bag and setting it on the table, looking at them. The Avengers? But what do they have to do with Y/n? Footsteps came from the hallway and Y/n peeked in. 

“Are you two okay? I heard gunshots.” Y/n asked worriedly, looking at both brothers. 

��It’s all good witchy, Castiel just gave us a scare.” Dean distracted her, Sam carefully putting the DVDs back in the bag to hide them. 

“Castiel was here? Ugh, next time he comes, tell him not to leave without saying bye to me first!” Y/n scoffed playfully, noticing Sam and the DVDs, but didn’t see the covers. 

“Are you two planning to watch a movie?” 

“Uh. Yeah, uh… Karate Kid…??” Sam picked out a random DVD, holding up the case. Y/n nodded approvingly. 

“I love Jackie Chan movies. You’ll like that one. Might join you guys later, I’m gonna start making us some dinner.”

Y/n made her way to the kitchen and both Winchesters silently sighed in relief. 

“I’ll bring them to my room.” Sam muttered to Dean, taking the bag and going to his room, but not before putting in Karate Kid so that they could actually watch the movie together. 

They were keeping that strange woman and the DVDs a secret from Y/n for her protection, Dean justified in his head, resting back against the couch as he half-watched the movie and half-stuck in his own thoughts. Until they knew that the DVDs were safe to watch, they weren’t going to tell Y/n about it. 

Dean didn’t like that strange woman. If keeping this a secret would keep Y/n safe, Dean would do it, and he knew Sam would too. 

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