#I BARELY TRUST MYSELF KNITTING

[starsofteal]

Daylight

Halsin x Tav // Halsin x Reader

Summary: Tav misinterprets Halsin’s declarations, thinking he must not want her as much as she wants him. Can Halsin convince her of his love? A/N: Well, my first Halsin fic is here! Based off this dialogue from the game, featuring a classic miscommunication trope. When I first came across this dialogue, I found myself rather disappointed by Halsin’s declaration, and I realized I was focusing on all the wrong parts of it. I couldn’t get the idea out of my head, so here we have a scenario in which Tav has done the same. This fic is so self-indulgent it should be a crime. Warnings: Hurt/Comfort (emphasis on the comfort—I promise all’s well that ends well). Pretty spoiler free, except for the opening dialogue if you’re romancing Halsin and you want all that to be a surprise. 

“Relationship?” A deep chuckle rumbles in Halsin’s chest. A sinking feeling settles into your gut. You weren’t sure what to expect when you broached the topic of a potential relationship, but a laugh? A direct blow from an enemy sword would have hurt less. 

“Such terms belong to civilization—a little unfamiliar to my lips.” His words continued, but that soft smile, those kind eyes, the strong, steadfast shape of Halsin, it all begins to shift, distorting just slightly as traitorous tears prick at your eyes. A quick bite of your inner cheek reminds you to hold steady, to not let the tears fall—by every star in that gods damned sky, you are not going to let him see you cry. 

“…you and I should each seek happiness wherever it lies…”

He’s still going on? You think to yourself. How long can one rejection take? You bite your cheek even harder, a coppery tang bursting on your tastebuds. 

Halsin’s words echo in your mind, despite the fact that his monologue seems to continue, piercing your heart again and again, the pain stealing the breath from your lungs. You will yourself to take in another breath.

“Let others know the happiness of being with you.” Halsin smiles down on you, not an ounce of malice in those soft green eyes. The staunch difference between his kindhearted gaze and the red-hot pain radiating in your chest was nearly laughable. In fact, at that very moment, you were unsure if your next steps would include crying, laughing, or launching an all out assault on the mountain of a man before you—an action that would surely not work out in your favor given the comical size difference between you two. 

In the end, it was all you could do to offer a small, meager, “I see.” It’s a notable effort to keep the emotion from your voice, but you’re proud of the attempt all the same.

A frown breaks out across Halsin’s face, his brows knitting together in confusion. “Have I said something wrong, my heart?” 

Those two words are a slap to your face. You don’t trust yourself to speak, not again, so without a word you turn and make your way to your tent as fast as your feet can take you. 

The fabric barely has time to fall in place behind you before the warm tears finally break free. 

_________

Two days had passed since the incident. While you wanted nothing more than to mope about on your bedroll and avoid Halsin altogether, your situation doesn’t exactly allow for such luxuries. 

Which is how you find yourself in the woods with Shadowheart, foraging for ingredients to top off your party’s supply of potions and tonics. Though you left early in the morning, the sun glares bright overhead now. Wiping a bead of sweat from your brow, you crouch low beneath a bush and scan the area for the bright violet blooms Shadowheart had you scouting for. 

“I just don’t understand why you had to drag me out for this,” you fuss at your friend as thorns from the underbrush prick your side. Your clothing offers little protection against natures most irritating defenses. 

“Surely there’s…someone more suited to this than I.” Your following scowl can’t be entirely blamed by the literal thorn in your side, not as thoughts of Halsin flash through your mind once more. 

Shadowheart hums absentmindedly. “Yes, this is true. Halsin is more in tune with the forest,” she mutters, collecting something from the earth too small for your eyes to make out. A soft clink tells you the specimen makes it into the glass bottle. “I was actually hoping to talk to you about that,” Shadowheart continues, popping the cork back on the bottle and tucking it away. 

“About what?” You hiss as another thorn embeds itself in your palm. You toss a scowl her way before distracting yourself from the conversation as you fiddle with removing the thorn. You’re not sure which hurts worse, the abrupt change in conversation topic or the wound in your hand. Impervious to your dirty looks, Shadowheart makes her way over to you. 

“Well, you two were nearly inseparable. Absolutely enamored with each other—anyone could see it.” She takes your hand into her own to assess the damage.

“And now, well, if I’m being completely honest dear, you’re rather dour, you seldom leave your tent, or you’re looking for any excuse to get away from the party—sorry this’ll only hurt a second.” You wince as she pulls the thorn free and presses hard on the wound to stanch any bleeding. “And, well, Halsin’s been…unusually forlorn. Like a poor dog that’s been kicked in the stomach.” 

With a scoff you withdraw your hand, taking care to apply pressure to it just as Shadowheart had done. 

“I couldn’t care less what Halsin’s been doing.” The lie is ash on your tongue. 

Shadowheart looks at you then, really looks at you. You try your best not to fidget under her assessing gaze. 

“What happened?” 

“I—“ 

“And don’t bother lying to me,” she’s quick to interrupt. “Save it for someone else. I know something has been bothering you.” 

Resignation floods you. Leave it to Shadowheart to see right through your bravado and into your heart. 

“I was a fool for thinking he could ever be happy with me.” The words are soft as they fall from your lips, but they burn your heart all the same. A firm weight falls on your shoulder as Shadowheart offers an encouraging hand. 

“Tell me everything.”

_______

Halsin’s voice calls out your name from just outside Shadowheart’s tent. His low timbre still brings a tightness to your chest, but you will yourself to breathe normally. You’d been doing your best to avoid him since getting back to camp with Shadowheart, but you suppose now is as good a time as any to rip that particular bandage off. 

“Yes, Halsin?” You ask matter of factly, not even looking up from the array of ingredients you’re currently sorting through. You pointedly ignore his gaze as he steps into the tent, taking up a majority of the albeit limited empty space. 

Halsin clears his throat, clearly uncertain how to proceed. You two had always shared such an easygoing openness between you,  but the last two days had left him scrambling for purchase. 

“I was hoping we could talk,” Halsin smiles down at you, undeterred by your clear avoidance. 

“Mm, we are talking.” You collect up one of the empty potion bottles, wiping at a smudge spot with the edge of your tunic. 

Halsin forces a chuckle, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Of course we are, but, erm, perhaps we could go for a walk? Enjoy some of nature’s company for the evening?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Your tone is sharper than you’d intended, but the guilt passes over you in a second as you replay his words in your mind, his scoff when you so much as mentioned a potential relationship. 

Halsin sighs. He had hoped that his 300 odd years of experience would give him a leg up in navigating this prickly conversation, but—as is usual when you’re involved—his heart and his tongue seem to be tripping over one another. 

 “My heart,“

That gets your attention. Your gaze snaps up to his, laced with venom. 

“You do not get to call me that. Not anymore.” 

Halsin feels his own chest start to cave in as the hurt flashes across your face—you master it a moment later, but the damage is done. 

“I’m not sure what I’ve done to upset you,” he starts, but you interject again. 

“It’s fine. I’m not upset,” you force some neutrality back in your voice. “You weren’t interested in things continuing between us, and that’s fine. Nothing to apologize for.” You gesture to the flap of the tent. “You can take your leave now.” 

Halsin does the opposite, braving another step closer. 

“Of course I need to apologize. It appears my words have caused some confusion. Worse yet, I fear they’ve caused you pain.” 

At that, you still, finger pausing over the bottles set up in front of you. 

“You must know that I would never intend to hurt you.” Halsin’s tone was bordering on pleading. “Even now, it physically pains me to know that I’ve hurt you so.” He draws a hand to his chest, moving as if to soothe an ache that’s nestled beneath the surface there. 

You glance up to see the hurt now reflecting in his eyes. It’s enough to bring forth a sigh from your lips, your shoulders caving in as resignation takes over your body. Even now, you can’t find it within yourself to hate him, no matter how much easier it would make this. 

“You’re not responsible for my feelings, Halsin,” you sigh. “They are my own.” 

“No, but I do take responsibility for my words,” he counters. 

“You don’t want a relationship with me and you said as much. There’s nothing left to be said.” Despite your best attempts, your voice breaks on the last word. You close your eyes, clinging to the blunt words, mentally rebuilding your armor to power through the rest of this conversation. 

“There is so much left to say, my heart.” Halsin’s gentle words caress your face like the sun’s rays on a warm summer day. “I have so much left to say.” 

You keep your eyes closed, focus on taking another breath, keeping your heart steady. “Then speak.” 

“I love you.” 

Your eyes spring open, and Halsin is before you, close enough to touch. A large, tentative hand reaches up to cradle your face. You don’t pull away, and that’s enough to bring relief to Halsin’s heart. 

“I don’t understand,” you whisper, afraid your mere voice would crack the perilously thin ice you suddenly find yourself on. “You said—“ 

“That I would not keep you to myself,” Halsin is quick to finish the thought. 

“That we should seek out other people,” you correct, a touch of anger shading the words as you step out of Halsin’s grip. 

At that, Halsin’s eyes widen. “No.” His voice holds more sharpness than the druid had ever shown with you before. “I said no such thing.” 

“Well, maybe not exactly, but the sentiment was there,” you grumble, the frustration seeping through at your hazy memory. 

“That ‘sentiment’ is misguided.” His tone leaves no room for argument, but you do it anyway. 

“Well, forgive me if I don’t have it memorized word for word—I was a little busy having my heart broken,” you snap. 

Halsin pauses for a heartbeat and you watch the pain shine in his pale green eyes at your words.

“And I will never forgive myself for the pain I’ve caused you these last few days. But listen to my words now. I beg of you.” 

Another heartbeat passes. He takes your silence as permission to continue.

“I don’t abide by these conventional rules set in place by society. My home is in nature, and I follow the path the Oak Father has set before me. These ideals of what relationships should or shouldn’t be, you’ll have to forgive me if they're all but foreign to me.” 

Another wave of disappointment washes over you and you close your eyes in a futile attempt to deter the familiar pinpricks of tears. A warm, familiar hand caresses your face before tilting your chin up to bring your gaze to his. 

“But trust me when I tell you that I have never met someone like you. My heart does not stir lightly. But it does for you. What I feel for you pales in comparison to those who came before you.” 

There is no doubting the sincerity that lies in those soft verdant eyes. 

"It feels as though I have been asleep in a centuries long dark night, and now I am finally seeing daylight,” Halsin’s deep voice soothes, each word repairing the aches and tears of your heart.  

“There is no one else for me, my heart. Call it what you wish; you are all I want. Nothing would make me happier than to have you by my side for the rest of my days, if that is what you desire as well.

My love for you runs deep and true. Never doubt it, my heart.”

And then his lips are on yours, and every thought eddies out of your head, but one: Halsin loves you. 

Pure joy and relief floods your body and you don’t even bother trying to stop the tears of joy that follow. Halsin pulls back from the kiss just enough to swipe the tears from your cheek.

“I love you, too, Halsin,” you whisper in the space between you as Halsin presses his forehead to yours. 

“Forgive me, my heart. For the pain I have caused you.” 

You smile up at that handsome face you’ve grown to hold so dearly. Your slender hand  reaches up to caress his cheek, tracing the swirls of his tattoo. “Only if you’ll forgive my foolishness for doubting you.” You feel the shame rise up, bringing a heat to your cheeks.

“My heart, there is nothing to forgive,” Halsin murmurs before pressing another kiss to your forehead.

[perlelune]

Training Wheels | Coriolanus Snow | vi.

Your mother's macabre work never appealed to you as you always preferred the comfort of your books, but when her apprentice takes a special interest in you, your safe, quiet world is flipped upside down.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Gaul!Reader, Shy Reader, Manipulation, Parental Neglect, Drinking, Peer Pressure, Hazing, University set, Loss of Virginity, Dumbification, Insecurities, Abusive Relationship, Degradation, Suicide Attempt

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

The clinging of metal resonates in your ears as Coriolanus fumbles with your keys. You lean against him, half-asleep and barely able to hold yourself upright. 

Coriolanus opens the door, his arm still around your waist. 

You get a blurry glimpse of Walter’s bright eyes in the darkness. He meows when he sees you. You hear the faint pitter-patter of his paws, the sound of him circling you the way he always does when you come home. 

You stagger forward, arms open to pick him up. Your feet tangle in your hastiness. Coriolanus catches you before you can trip and fall flat onto your face. 

“I’ve got you,” he mumbles. You clutch the lapels of his crisp white shirt.  The fabric wrinkles in your tight grip. You stare at his buttons, one undone revealing a hint of his bare chest and defined collarbone. Faintly, you ponder the fact that he’s always dressed so impeccably, not a hair out of place, not in a crinkle in his clothes. You hate that you’re messing up his nice outfit. Fingers sneak below your chin, angling your face skywards. The angular lines of Coriolanus’ handsome face twist and triple in your vision, his intense blue eyes shimmering like sapphires. He heaves out a deep sigh before lifting you from the floor. “I don’t think you can be trusted to walk on your own, angel.” He casts an inquisitive glance about the place. “Your mom isn’t here?”

You rest your head against his chest. 

“She’s never here. By myself. Always by myself.”

His warm breath tickles your scalp, his deep, silky baritone caressing your eardrums. “Hey, you aren’t by yourself now. I’m here.”

You relax in his arms, his soothing words engulfing you in a blanket of comfort. It’s true. For once, you aren’t alone tonight. 

He carries you across the room until reaching another door. He releases your limp frame over something soft and warm. Something familiar. 

You weakly pat around yourself and realize you’re on your bed. 

A weary whine escapes your mouth.

“Feed Walter…”

When you try to get up, the blonde shoves you back down. He meets no resistance from you, your body completely bereft of energy to protest. You slump against the sheets. 

“The cat, right?” he asks, cupping your cheek. You respond with a feeble nod. “I’ll do it. Just sleep, okay?” He bends and brushes his lips over your forehead. Relief fills you at this small assurance. You weren’t supposed to be gone the entire day. He must be starving. Your head sinks into the pillows. Your eyes rise to the ceiling as you recount the events of the night. A surge of embarrassment pierces through your drunken haze. Tonight was such a disaster. You made a fool of yourself. You couldn’t blend with the others. You left early.

Hell, you couldn’t even stand up to walk yourself back home.

As every moment replays inside your mind, tears gather in your eyes. The thin lid you placed over your emotions crumbles. 

You cross your arms over your face, loud, ugly sobs wracking your frame.

“What’s wrong?”

You gasp at the suddenness of Coriolanus’ presence. You peer up at him. His broad, lanky frame is looming over you, his weight making the mattress dip. His brow is knitted in concern. Stray platinum locks hang over his forehead.

Chest heaving, you swallow your tears.

“I’m sorry,” you say, sniffling.

His large hands wrap around your cheeks, his thumb tracing the damp, hot trails beneath your eyes.

“Don’t apologize. Just talk to me,” he whispers.

His gentle tone paired with your alcohol-induced daze pluck confessions from your tongue.

“I’m nineteen and I haven’t done anything,” you bashfully admit. A strangled sob leaps from your throat. “I’m a loser.”

He wipes the fresh tears that spill down your cheeks. 

“You’re not a loser.”

“Yes, I am.”

He scrutinizes you. Your heart skips a beat as his heated focus scatters goosebumps on your flesh. He leans closer. The smell of roses mixed with something spicier coats your senses. As his lids sink to half-mast, his face inching terrifyingly close, you note how long and thick his lashes are. 

You’re still outlining each of them when his soft lips collide with yours. A tentative brush at first. A gentle press; a silent question. One whose answer never comes, shock melting the words sizzling your throat. He deepens the kiss, humming against your tongue. Your head spins. Your skin tingles. For long minutes, he explores your mouth as you lie beneath him, too stunned to do anything but remain still.

You sink in disbelief. 

A boy is kissing you. No…a man.

And that man is Coriolanus Snow.

The information struggles to break past the muddied veil around your thoughts. 

It’s something you pondered about for so many years. How it felt like to be kissed. To be held. To be desired.

Yet none of it feels like you imagined. 

In your vivid daydreams or the romance books you’re so fond of, there never was this cold, overwhelming surge of dread coursing through you. 

This peculiar feeling of wrong you can’t shake.

When he frees your lips, you gawk up at him, wide-eyed and breathless.

A haughty smirk decorates his plump mouth as he cups your cheek.

“Here, now you’ve kissed someone,” he rasps.

He astonishes you by planting another kiss on your lips. This one’s rougher, hungrier. His hands travel lower. He fondles your soft flesh, groaning against your mouth. His mouth wanders to your jaw, trailing passionate pecks all the way down to your neck. You writhe against the sheets, a strange warmth blooming in your core.

He pushes up your dress slowly until it bunches around your waist. Cool air bounces across your skin and you shiver. His hands sweep over your trembling flesh. You hold your breath as he drops more kisses across your navel, getting closer and closer to your center.

His fingers hook in the flimsy fabric of your panties, shoving them down your legs. 

A flash of awareness crosses your mind.

“Coriolanus, what are you…” Ignoring your slurred pleas, he buries his head between your thighs. You stiffen as his mouth latches to your core. He flicks his tongue over your folds. Your chest seizes at the cold feeling.  Your back curves as he suckles your soft bud, his hands clutching your thighs tightly. He draws sluggish circles with his tongue, his blue eyes glued to your face the entire time. “Don’t,” you whimper. Your breathless pleas only seem to make things worse. He devours your cunt with even more fervor, bruises forming beneath his steely grip. Broken moans spill from your tongue. Your stomach coils, tension building in your lower belly. You peer down at the blond head bobbing between your legs. Your chest tightens, hot puffs of air rushing from your mouth. You grab fistfuls of his golden mane, feebly pushing his head, wrestling the mounting waves of heat sweeping through your body. 

You chew on your lip as the room sways around you. 

“You have such a pretty little cunt, angel,” he praises. Your cheeks heat at the lewd praise. He moves his tongue over your sensitive tangle of nerves, slow and greedy, collecting every drop of your arousal. 

You jolt and toss your head back as the pleasure hits its peak. Your hips cant on their own to meet Coriolanus’ ravenous lips. He unleashes a throaty moan when you come against him, your nectar dripping on his mouth and chin. 

You’re still catching your breath as you see him loom over you through your hazy vision. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he lauds, reaching between your bodies to unbutton his dress pants. He’s quick to do it, revealing his erect length, already red and leaking at the tip.

A lump forms in your throat. 

“Wait, Coriolanus-”

Your words are stifled by the firm, torrid press of his lips against yours. You taste your own essence and your forehead creases. You turn your head but his fingers frame your jaw, pulling you in for another rough, bruising kiss. His tip prods at your dripping entrance. Your heart leaps. Your eyes snap open. Your hands spread over his chest, attempting to shove him with every bit of strength left in you. 

He doesn’t budge. Your stomach sinks. 

You gasp as he grabs your wrists and slams them besides your head. His thick head pierces your walls, spreading your tender lips apart. A sharp cry tumbles from your tongue. It already feels like too much, like you’ll tear at the center if he keeps going. Your chest heaves, tears swimming under your lashes. He grunts as he drives his cock further inside you, the agonizing stretch drawing a ragged moan from you. Your nails bury in the skin of your palm. 

“I’m scared,” you stammer between disjointed exhales, your mouth quaking.

He shushes you, dropping soft pecks along your neck. He fills you to the brim, impaling you on his cock. You choke on your air, your vision flickering.

Strangled whimpers leave you as he drags out of you slowly before burying himself balls deep inside you again. Your lashes bat rapidly, your chest lifting. 

His lanky frame pins you to the mattress, his scorching breath seeping through the thin material of the dress. 

The bed rattles when he begins to move inside you at a steady pace. Every single snap of his hips into yours is slow and deep, making your toes curl and clouding your sight. 

The two of you become a mess of tangled limbs over the damp sheets.

“It hurts,” you sob, nearly passing out when you glance down and catch a glimpse of blood over his glistening length before it disappears between your slick walls.

“Oh angel, you fit so perfectly around me,” he whispers lewdly, kissing away your tears. He briefly releases your wrist to unbutton his vest and the top buttons of his shirt, exposing more of his chiseled chest. 

His breaths grow labored, matching yours. 

He ruts into you, his muscles straining beneath his clothes and sweat pearling on his forehead.

The air around you is sweltering as you suffocate under his body.

Tears skip down your cheeks, your core burning with the sudden, repeated intrusion. 

Your hot exhales mingle with his, his chest brushing against yours as you feel every vein and ridge of his thick cock with every sharp thrust. 

“Too much…” you mumble, a tide of helplessness flooding your insides. 

He grips under your thigh, finding a different angle that has your eyes rolling back. A lopsided smile blooms on his lips as you shiver beneath him.

“But you’re taking it so well,” he says, his hoarse baritone bleeding lust. He bends to plant a soft kiss in the crook of your neck. “So just lay down and be my good girl. Okay, angel?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, quickening his cadence and shoving your body into the mattress. His pupils are inflated with desire, swallowing most of the blue in his eyes. His dark gaze clings to your panting frame, soaking every second of twisted pleasure coalescing with sinful agony. 

The wet, lewd echo of skin along skin swells in the room. 

Your attention strays to the door, your head twisting. You blink, befuddled by the muffled sounds reaching your ears. 

Persistent scratching and screeching erupt on the other side of the door. It takes you a while to understand what you’re hearing. 

Walter. He’s making a ruckus that could wake the dead outside of your bedroom. 

A fresh surge of tears spill down your cheeks. Coriolanus draws your focus back to him, his fingers firmly corralling your jaw. 

You swallow thickly, taken aback when your gaze lifts and you hardly recognize him. His blue eyes shimmer in the darkness, alight with lust and a hint of something you can’t place. The blood in your veins curdles, your insides lurching. 

“Fuck…the way you squeeze my cock,” he purrs. He bends to sweep his lips over your bruised cheek. “I don’t think I can stop, not when you feel like this around me, angel.”

Your lip wobbles as you blink away tears, a shaky sob pouring from your mouth. 

For what seems like hours, the blond is unrelenting. Fear seizes your chest as you bear through it in the cage of his embrace. 

Eventually, his body stiffens against yours, his hips stuttering. He unleashes a deep breath and releases himself inside you. Warmth fills you, his spent overflowing your cunt and leaking down your inner thigh. 

He collapses on top of you, cradling your body against his. His soft cock rests against your belly as he nuzzles your neck. You look up at the ceiling, focusing on the patterns of the wallpaper as a wave of ice settles in your veins. 

Coriolanus drifts to sleep quickly, pulling you against him as he shifts onto his side. 

Meanwhile, you lie awake, your body still pulsing with pain, your muscles still knotted with fear. Your tears have dried out. No feeling lingers in your body.

You’re numb, empty. After a while, sleep claims you too. Your eyes shut as you surrender to Coriolanus’ tight embrace. 

You awake to the sunlight’s crude assault on your senses, warmth blistering your bare skin and a bright glow searing your eyes. 

Though you feel his arms around you, you don’t find the nerve to look back. Your breaths are quiet and slow as you will yourself not to move. 

You steal a glance at your disheveled appearance in the floor length mirror on the other side of the room. Your chest clenches. Your dress is still hiked up, exposing the darkening bruises on your lower body. Your blood turns to ice as you find the dried up evidence of what Coriolanus did on your thighs. Your hair is a mess, the elegant updo from last night completely destroyed. 

Despite your stillness, you feel him stir against you. You bristle.

“Good morning, angel,” he rasps, his lips pressing into your shoulder.

When you pry his arms off you and sit up, your face scrunches in discomfort. Your limbs ache in protest. You lean back against the headboard and pull down the dress.

You take a second to collect a quivering gulp of air. You then start climbing off the bed. Coriolanus’ hand clasps around your arm before you can stand. Your mouth parts in shock. He yanks you back on the bed and places a hand on each side of you, effectively preventing any escape.

“Is something wrong?” he asks

“Why would anything be wrong?” you mumble.

His fingers creep under your chin, angling your face in a way that forces your gazes to meet. 

“You’re not looking at me.”

You swallow the lump in your throat.

“You’re almost naked.”

He smirks, half-lidded gaze swinging to your chest, where the dress has slid to expose your bare upper body. “So are you.”

The sly remark has a well of shame pool inside you. You tug on the sleeve of the dress to cover more of yourself and clear your throat.

“Last night…”

“Yeah, things got a little intense, didn’t they?”

You bring your knees to your chest, shying away when his fingers skim over your arm.

“That’s one way to put it…”

You stare at the rumpled sheets, the tiny blood stain on them beckoning your focus. 

The day before you hadn’t even kissed a boy. Now you’ve done…way more than that. The thought alone makes your head throb, tossing your mind into disarray. All of it happened so quickly. Most of it is still a blur. 

Confusion cocoons your thoughts. An errant one however slips through. A certainty amidst the haze.

“Coriolanus,” you call.

“Yes?”

“I wasn’t really…ready for that.”

He casts you a puzzled look, a slight frown on his face.

“I didn’t hear a ‘no’” He heaves out a long sigh as he soaks in your conflicted expression, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. “I’m sorry for getting carried away.”  His voice mellows, soft as honey. “Did I hurt you?”

You melt at his tone, a bit floored by the concern etched on his face.

“A little.” A lot, your mind loudly whispers though you don’t utter the words. “I just never…”

He bends to plant a feathery kiss on your forehead. His eyes dive into yours. You note how dizzyingly beautiful they look in the morning. Though you’ve never laid eyes on the ocean, you imagine it must be as blue and bottomless as Coriolanus Snow’s eyes.

He seizes your hand and brushes his lips against the back of it. 

“I know, angel. I’ll be more gentle next time. I’ve just been holding back for so long and you were a vision last night.” He beams at you. His fingertips roam over your ankle before he softly suggests, “How about we go have breakfast, you and I, spend the day together?”

“Spend the day together?” you muse aloud.

He pivots your head towards the window which offers you a view of the vibrant city, already awake and bustling with activity.

“Come on. A day like this is too beautiful to waste.”

Your attention returns to Coriolanus. His expression is bright and hopeful. A contrast to the hollowness inside your chest. The longer you look at him, the less you wish to disappoint him. 

Belated words roll off your tongue in a wobbly string. 

“I-I need to take a shower first.”

He fondles your cheek.

“Then go on. I’ll wait for you here,” he says cheerfully.

[moonselune]

origin companions + halsin with a durge reader who's scared of hurting them? :3

Aweeeeeeeee yeee I love me some hurt/comfort

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

You found yourself lying next to Karlach one quiet night in camp, the usual contentment you felt in her presence haunted by a gnawing fear you could no longer ignore. Your hand rested on hers, calloused from years of battle yet infinitely gentle as she held you close. But even her warmth couldn’t quell the dark, twisting urges that had been growing inside you, lingering at the edges of your mind like shadows waiting to pounce.

As Karlach’s breathing slowed into a soft rhythm, you could feel the tension within yourself mounting, your fingers twitching in your lap as you struggled to keep the darkness at bay. The more time you spent with her, the more desperately you wanted to stay by her side, but the very core of you, the blood that coursed through your veins, pulsed with the hunger for violence—a birthright you couldn’t escape.

Finally, with a resigned sigh, you sat up, unable to bear the silence any longer. Karlach stirred, her eyes opening to find you gazing off into the distance, lost in thought.

“What’s on your mind, love?” she murmured, voice tender as she reached up to cup your cheek, her thumb grazing softly along your skin.

You closed your eyes, leaning into her touch, feeling her strength and warmth, wishing you could be whole enough to deserve it.

“Karlach,” you whispered, feeling the weight of the words build up in your throat, thick and heavy. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something I’ve tried to keep hidden.”

She sat up, her attention fully on you, brows knitted with concern.

“You can tell me anything,” she reassured you, her hand squeezing yours as if she could somehow tether you to her strength. “Whatever it is, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

But that’s exactly what terrified you. You opened your mouth, hesitating, afraid that once you voiced it, it would become real, a truth you couldn’t unburden from yourself. But the worry in her gaze and the trust she’d placed in you made it impossible to keep hiding.

“I’m scared, Karlach,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Scared that one day, all this darkness inside me… that I might lose control and—” The words faltered, and you swallowed, forcing them out. “That I might hurt you.”

Karlach’s expression softened, and she placed a steadying hand on your shoulder, grounding you in her calm.

“Darling,” she said, her voice a quiet balm against your fraying nerves. “We’ve faced hell and back together, quite literally. And I’ve seen what’s in here.” She placed a hand over your heart, her gaze fierce and unwavering. “And I know it’s a good heart. Better than most.”

Her words stirred something in you, but the fear remained.

“There’s a part of me that wants to give in,” you said, struggling to keep your voice even. “A part that whispers how easy it would be to let go, to let the bloodlust take over… You wouldn’t be safe from that, Karlach. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to stop it.”

Karlach’s hand moved from your shoulder to your cheek, guiding your gaze back to hers. Her eyes, so full of fire and compassion, searched yours, unwavering.

“Listen to me,” she said firmly, her tone gentle but unyielding. “You are stronger than whatever darkness is inside you. I’ve seen that strength in every fight, in every choice you’ve made. You’re not your blood, love. You’re you.”

Her words cut through the dread tightening in your chest, and you felt something break inside, like a wound you hadn’t realized was there finally being tended. But as her fingers traced reassuring patterns against your skin, you couldn’t help but voice the other fear that had been haunting you.

“I don’t want to put you in danger,” you admitted, voice thick. “The idea of being close to you, of letting myself love you completely—it terrifies me.”

Karlach smiled, a sad, beautiful thing that held no trace of fear. “If you push me away, I’ll still be in danger. Out there, fighting, facing whatever madness this world throws at us. But if I’m by your side, at least I know who I’m fighting for. Who I’m protecting. And who’s protecting me.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to respond, too afraid that any answer would break this fragile moment. But Karlach didn’t need words. She pulled you into her embrace, her warmth surrounding you, her fingers tracing soothing circles along your back as she held you close.

“Promise me something,” she murmured into your hair, her voice a steady anchor. “When the darkness feels too heavy, when the blood feels like it’s pulling you down—come to me. Let me help shoulder it. Don’t carry it alone.”

Her words settled over you like a shield, the terror slowly easing under the weight of her trust. You nodded, unable to speak, letting yourself melt into her hold, feeling the burden lighten just enough to breathe.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The moonlight cast a pale glow over the camp, deepening the shadows of the trees around you as the night grew quiet and still. You sat by the fire, watching its embers flicker, your mind a tangle of thoughts and emotions too knotted to untangle alone. Tonight, you couldn’t shake the growing, gnawing worry that tightened its grip on your chest. The violent urges within—the dark whispers that surfaced when you were cornered, angry, or simply still too long—felt closer than ever, and the very thought of losing control with Minthara nearby made you shiver.

It was a rare vulnerability, one you hadn’t planned to let show, but Minthara was sharp. When she finally settled down beside you, her piercing gaze fixed on you, she noticed the tension in your shoulders, the distant look in your eyes.

“What’s the matter with you?” she asked, brow furrowing with a hint of impatience. She wasn’t one for sugarcoating her concern.

You hesitated, not sure if you could put into words the fear that had been clawing its way up from somewhere dark within you. The silence stretched until you finally forced yourself to speak, voice barely above a whisper.

“I… worry, Minthara,” you began, and she raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced by your tone alone.

“Worry?” she scoffed, leaning back with a half-smirk. “What are you, mortal?”

But you held her gaze, your own look unyielding, and she gradually registered the seriousness etched into your face.

“I’m worried I might hurt you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “These urges, this… darkness inside me—sometimes I feel it would be so easy to lose myself to it.”

Minthara stilled, the humor gone from her eyes. She narrowed her gaze, searching your face.

“You think you’re dangerous to me?” She sounded half-amused, half-intrigued, as though the thought were a new challenge rather than a cause for alarm. “I know you’re dangerous, but to me?” She shook her head dismissively, as though the idea were ridiculous.

“No, Minthara. I mean it,” you said, your voice firmer this time. “What if it’s stronger than me one day? What if it’s stronger than… than us?”

There was a pause as the weight of your confession settled between you. For a moment, Minthara’s hardened expression softened, only a flicker, before her fierce eyes met yours again.

“If it’s any consolation,” she said, voice lowered to a dangerous murmur, “I’d kill you long before you laid a hand on me in malice.”

You let out a shaky breath, and though her words were grim, you knew they were a promise—one she’d keep if it ever came to it. There was comfort in her unflinching resolve, in the certainty that Minthara would not hesitate to cut you down if you became a danger to her. But it was still hard to believe she’d understand the battle raging within you.

Minthara held your face firmly in her hands, forcing you to look her directly in the eye.

“I’ve faced darker things than you, and I chose you,” she said, her voice quiet yet fierce. “You aren’t the only one who knows the dark, and you’re certainly not the only one who knows how to control it.”

Her touch steadied you, a calming balm against the tempest you felt within. You took a deep, shuddering breath, grounding yourself in the solidity of her hands against your skin.

“You’ll have to trust that I know what I’m doing,” she said with an air of finality, almost daring you to argue. And you knew she meant it: she would see through whatever lay ahead, by your side or against you if need be. But you could feel the strength in her assurance, the way her words wove around you like armor, and the whisper of your own doubts grew a little quieter.

Still, Minthara didn’t pull away. She stayed close, her gaze intense as she searched your face.

“I don’t need you to hide what you are from me,” she murmured. “Only a coward would. And you…” She leaned forward, brushing her lips softly against your cheek, a rare tenderness in the gesture. “You’re no coward.”

Her confidence filled a quiet part of you, a place that only Minthara could reach. And for the first time that night, you found yourself almost able to believe that maybe her blood would not decorate your hands.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

The night was quiet and still, save for the distant rustle of leaves and the crackling of the campfire. Its warm light flickered over Lae'zel's sharp features as she rested beside you, eyes half-closed, her usual intense demeanor softened by a rare, momentary relaxation. But your mind was restless, weighed down by shadows you could barely voice.

You watched her, feeling the gentle pull of affection—and something darker. That gnawing, dark urge was a reminder of your bloodline, a whisper at the back of your mind that seemed to grow louder with every passing day. Each time you felt the pull of the violent, savage instincts that Bhaal had woven into you, you fought to suppress them. But tonight, the struggle felt heavier, too close to the surface. You could feel a deep-seated fear forming in your chest: the fear that one day, you wouldn’t be able to contain it. And if that day came, would you be able to keep her safe?

Finally, you couldn’t bear it any longer. The words slipped out, breaking the silence between you, quieter than you’d intended. "Lae'zel… I need to tell you something."

She looked up, the piercing gaze of her amber eyes meeting yours. Even in this vulnerable moment, there was no judgment in her expression—only curiosity, perhaps the smallest hint of concern.

"Speak then," she replied, her voice firm but encouraging.

You hesitated, unsure where to start, then took a deep breath, staring into the campfire’s flickering flames as you began.

"Sometimes, I feel this… darkness inside me. A hunger for violence that runs deeper than mere anger. It’s been part of me since I was born, and most days, I can hold it back. But with you, Lae'zel…” You paused, words catching in your throat. “I worry I might lose control. And I couldn't bear it if I… if I hurt you."

For a moment, there was silence. She studied you, her expression unreadable, and you began to fear the worst—that she might recoil or mock your weakness. But then, she spoke, her voice surprisingly gentle, though edged with her usual sharpness.

"Do you think I am some delicate flower, trembling at the thought of a little bloodshed?" she said, almost scoffing. “Or do you think I have not already noticed the darkness in you?” She shook her head slightly, her gaze steady and unafraid.

“It’s not that,” you stammered, struggling to make her understand. “You may be a warrior, fierce and unbreakable. But this is different. This isn’t sparring or combat—it’s… primal, uncontrollable. If I ever lost myself fully, it wouldn’t matter who was in front of me. I’d be nothing but a tool for death.”

Lae'zel’s eyes narrowed, but she did not pull away. Instead, she leaned closer, placing a strong, calloused hand on your arm, grounding you.

“You listen to me,” she said, her voice low, unwavering. “You fear harming me because of this ‘darkness,’ yes? Yet you know this about yourself. You fight it even now, holding back when others would simply give in.” She paused, her hand tightening around your arm. “But you must understand something about me as well. I am no stranger to violence. I have walked among enemies all my life, and I have bested warriors twice my size. I am no frail creature, and I am not afraid of you.”

Her words sent a jolt through you, her confidence in you both humbling and terrifying. She didn’t understand fully—not yet.

“But what if one day… I’m not me anymore?” you asked, your voice breaking slightly. “What if all that’s left is Bhaal’s influence?”

She smirked at that, and a strange fire sparked in her gaze. “

Then you will know that I would face you without hesitation. I would be ready, blade in hand, to meet whatever you became and bring you to heel.” There was a fierce pride in her words, and though her response was blunt, it was laced with a loyalty that softened your fear, at least for now.

Lae'zel pulled you closer, her grip firm, and rested her forehead against yours, the gesture as intimate as any words she could have spoken.

“Do not insult me by assuming I am weak enough to be afraid of you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

With that, the tension you’d been carrying in your chest began to ease. Lae'zel would never see you as a threat; she would face you if she had to, but not with fear. Only resolve. Only love.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

The moon hung low, casting silver light over the camp, as the others drifted into their tents or found their places by the fire for the night. You sat on a boulder near the edge of the clearing, staring into the surrounding darkness. The shadows felt more alive than they should, twisting and coiling, whispering at the edges of your thoughts. You clenched your fists, trying to still the trembling in your hands.

The violent urges had been growing stronger lately. A restlessness clawed at your soul, begging to be let out, and it terrified you. Your bloodline—Bhaal’s taint—felt like a curse you could no longer contain. You thought of Shadowheart, her quiet strength and sharp wit, the way her voice softened when she spoke to you alone. You loved her with a ferocity that frightened you, and it was that love that made everything worse. If you ever lost control, what would stop you from hurting her?

You didn’t hear her approach until she was standing beside you. Shadowheart had a way of moving silently, as if she were part of the shadows themselves. She sat next to you, her presence grounding but still leaving you on edge.

“You’ve been distant,” she said softly, her gaze studying your profile. “I know something’s troubling you. I can see it.”

You couldn’t meet her eyes, staring instead at the ground.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, but the lie tasted bitter on your tongue.

Shadowheart wasn’t fooled. She reached out, her hand brushing yours.

“You’re not fine,” she said, a quiet insistence in her voice. “I can feel it. Please… talk to me.”

Her gentle concern was enough to break the fragile wall you’d built around your emotions. You exhaled shakily, your voice trembling as you spoke.

“Shadowheart, I… I don’t know if I can do this. Every day, it gets harder to keep it all in check. The bloodlust, the urges—they’re stronger than ever. It’s like there’s something inside me, clawing to get out. And I’m terrified of what will happen if I can’t stop it.”

She watched you intently, her expression unreadable, and you pressed on, the words pouring out now.

“You’re everything to me, Shadowheart. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. And that’s what makes it worse. What if one day, I lose control? What if I hurt you? I couldn’t live with myself if that happened.”

The silence that followed felt unbearable. You risked a glance at her, expecting—dreading—judgment or fear in her eyes. But instead, there was understanding, and something even deeper. Shadowheart took your hand in hers, intertwining your fingers.

“You think I haven’t seen what you struggle with?” she asked quietly. “I’ve seen the way you fight it, the way you hold yourself back, even when everything in you screams to let go. That takes strength most people couldn’t dream of.”

You tried to pull your hand away, shaking your head. “Strength only lasts so long. One slip is all it takes.”

She held on tighter, refusing to let you retreat into yourself. “Then I’ll be there to stop you. I’ve been in darkness before—I know what it’s like to fight something that feels bigger than you. You’re not alone in this, and you don’t have to carry it by yourself.”

Her words struck a chord deep within you, a mixture of hope and guilt threatening to overwhelm you. “But what if—what if you’re not enough? What if one day, I…”

Shadowheart placed a finger to your lips, silencing you. “Stop. Listen to me. If I were afraid of you, I wouldn’t be here. You’re not defined by the darkness in you, no matter what your bloodline says. You’re more than that. And if you lose your way, I’ll be there to pull you back. Always.”

The certainty in her voice was enough to break something inside you. Tears welled up, unbidden, and you quickly wiped them away, ashamed of your weakness. But Shadowheart cupped your face in her hands, forcing you to meet her gaze.

“It’s okay to feel this way,” she said softly. “It’s okay to lean on someone else. You’ve been carrying this burden alone for too long.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself believe her. You leaned into her touch, letting her warmth chase away the cold that had taken root in your chest.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Shadowheart pulled you into an embrace, her arms strong and steady around you.

“We’ll face this together,” she murmured against your hair. “You don’t have to fight alone anymore.”

And in that moment, with her holding you as if she’d never let go, the weight on your soul felt just a little bit lighter.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

The camp was still, cloaked in the soft, silvery light of the moon. Most of your companions were asleep, save for the faint sounds of someone shifting in their tent or the occasional crackle of the dying fire. You sat apart from the others, your hands trembling slightly as you stared into the flames, the warmth doing little to chase away the cold knot of fear in your chest.

You had been feeling it for weeks now—this creeping, gnawing sensation at the edges of your mind. It wasn’t just anger or frustration. It was something deeper, darker. The whispers of your lineage clawed at your resolve, a constant reminder of the bloodline you couldn’t escape. Being Bhaalspawn wasn’t just a title; it was a curse, a tether to violence and death. And it was becoming harder to ignore.

The thought of hurting someone—hurting her—gnawed at your mind like a sickness. Jaheira, with her calm strength and unwavering compassion, had become your anchor, your light in this shadowed existence. But what if the darkness inside you grew too strong? What if you slipped? What if, in a moment of weakness, she got caught in the storm of your own making?

The thought alone made you sick.

You didn’t realize how tightly you were gripping your hands until you heard a voice behind you. “You’ve been brooding for hours now. Even I can’t meditate with the weight of it pressing on the air.”

You turned to see Jaheira stepping toward you, her expression unreadable. In the dim light, her silver-streaked hair glimmered, and her green eyes seemed to pierce straight through you. She was dressed for rest, her usual armor replaced by simpler clothing, though she still carried the air of a warrior—always poised, always ready.

“Jaheira,” you said, your voice catching slightly. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I—”

She waved a hand, cutting you off as she settled beside you on the ground. “Enough of that. What is it, truly? You’ve been distant. Distracted. I’ve faced enough troubled souls in my time to recognize one sitting before me now.”

You hesitated, the words heavy on your tongue. But this was Jaheira. If anyone deserved the truth, it was her.

“I’m scared,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “Not for me. For you.”

Her brow furrowed slightly, but she said nothing, letting you continue.

“I feel it growing inside me,” you said, gesturing vaguely toward your chest. “The violence. The urges. The part of me that… that isn’t really me. I can control it most days, but lately…” You swallowed hard. “I’m terrified, Jaheira. What if one day I lose control? What if I hurt you? I couldn’t—”

Your voice broke, and you looked away, ashamed of the tears pricking at your eyes. Jaheira was silent for a long moment, and you braced yourself for her response. Would she push you away? See you as a threat? End you there and then?

Instead, she reached out and placed a hand on your knee, grounding you with her steady presence.

“Listen to me,” she said, her voice firm but kind. “I have faced Bhaalspawn before. Many of them. Some sought redemption; others embraced the darkness willingly. I have seen what your kind is capable of—both the good and the evil.”

Your stomach twisted at her words, but she tightened her grip, forcing you to meet her gaze.

“And you,” she continued, her green eyes blazing with conviction, “are not one of those who revel in chaos and blood. I see you fighting it, every day. I see the way you hold back, even when it would be easier to let go. That alone sets you apart.”

“But what if it’s not enough?” you asked, your voice raw. “What if I fail?”

Jaheira’s expression softened, and she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a gentle murmur.

“Then I will be here to remind you of who you are. To pull you back, if I must. And if it ever comes to it, if you truly lose yourself…” She paused, her hand brushing against yours. “I will stop you before you can hurt anyone else.”

The weight of her words settled over you, both reassuring and sobering. You knew Jaheira was not one to make empty promises. If she said she would stop you, she meant it. And in some strange way, that knowledge gave you a sense of peace.

“You’re not afraid of me?” you asked quietly, searching her face for any sign of hesitation.

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head.

“Afraid of you? Hardly. I’ve faced demons, dragons, and gods themselves. Do you truly think I’d falter in the face of one stubborn Bhaalspawn?” Her lips quirked into a wry smile. “You give yourself too much credit.”

Despite yourself, you let out a shaky laugh, the tension in your chest easing ever so slightly.

Jaheira’s smile softened, and she leaned forward, pressing her forehead gently against yours.

“You are stronger than you realize, my love,” she murmured. “And you are not alone in this. I will stand by you, no matter what comes. Do you understand?”

You nodded, unable to find the words to express the gratitude swelling in your chest. For the first time in weeks, the darkness within you seemed to quiet. It was still there, a part of you that would never fully go away. But with Jaheira by your side, it would at least lessen.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

The night was quiet, the campfire burning low as the stars shimmered above like scattered shards of broken glass. Gale sat across from you, absorbed in his spellbook, his brow furrowed in concentration as the flickering light played over his features. You watched him silently, your heart heavy with the weight of thoughts you could no longer suppress.

The darkness inside you had been growing louder—whispers of violence and chaos scratching at the edges of your mind. Being Bhaalspawn wasn’t just a cruel twist of fate; it was a constant shadow, an insidious force threatening to consume you. And tonight, the fear of it all was too much to bear.

Your hand trembled as you reached for the cup of tea beside you, but you barely managed a sip before setting it down, the bitter taste doing nothing to calm your nerves.

Gale noticed. He always noticed.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice gentle as he closed his book and leaned forward, concern etched across his face. “You’ve been quiet all evening. More so than usual.”

You hesitated, staring into the fire as if it could provide the answers you didn’t have. Finally, you spoke, your voice low and strained. “I need to tell you something, Gale. It’s… important.”

He straightened, his attention fully on you now, his worry deepening.

“Go on,” he urged softly, his tone as warm and steady as the firelight between you. You swallowed hard, trying to steady the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

“I’ve been… struggling. The darkness inside me, the urges… it’s been getting worse.” You glanced up at him, your eyes pleading for understanding. “I’m terrified that one day, I won’t be able to control it.”

Gale’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t interrupt, waiting patiently for you to continue.

“I’m scared, Gale,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “Scared of what I might do. Of who I might hurt.” Your gaze dropped to your hands, clenched tightly in your lap. “Of hurting you.”

For a moment, there was only silence, the crackling of the fire the only sound between you. You braced yourself for his reaction, for the possibility that he might recoil, that he might see you as a monster.

Instead, Gale reached across the space between you and took your hand in his, his touch warm and grounding.

“You’re scared because you care,” he said gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Because you love.”

You looked up at him, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“That doesn’t change what I am,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “It doesn’t change the danger I bring.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Gale agreed, his gaze steady and unflinching. “But it also doesn’t define you. You are more than your lineage, more than the darkness you carry.” He leaned closer, his voice soft but firm. “I’ve seen your strength, your kindness, your determination to do what’s right, even when it’s difficult. That is who you are.”

His words were like a balm, easing the ache in your chest, but the fear still lingered, a shadow that refused to dissipate.

“What if I fail?” you asked, your voice trembling. “What if one day, it’s not enough?”

Gale’s grip on your hand tightened, his eyes filled with unwavering resolve.

“Then I will stand by you. I will fight for you, my love. And if it ever comes to it, if you ever lose yourself…” He paused, his voice faltering for just a moment before he continued, “Then I will do whatever it takes to bring you back.”

The weight of his promise settled over you, both comforting and sobering. Gale wasn’t naive. He understood the risks, the danger. But he still chose to stay, to believe in you.

Tears slipped down your cheeks, and you looked away, ashamed of your vulnerability. But Gale reached out, gently cupping your face and turning you back to him.

“You don’t have to carry this alone,” he said, his voice a soothing murmur. “Let me share the burden. Let me be your anchor, your light when the darkness feels too heavy.”

The sincerity in his words, the love in his eyes—it was more than you felt you deserved. But it was exactly what you needed.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Gale smiled, a soft, bittersweet expression. “You’ll never have to find out,” he said simply.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The night was eerily quiet, the campfire crackling softly as shadows danced across the surrounding trees. The rest of the party had already retired, their quiet snores or the occasional rustling of blankets filling the air. You, however, couldn’t bring yourself to sleep. Not tonight. Not with the turmoil twisting and clawing inside you like a living thing.

You sat by the fire, staring into its embers, your hands clenched so tightly around your knees that your knuckles had gone pale. The warmth of the flames couldn’t reach the chill in your chest, the fear that coiled there like a venomous snake.

You thought you were handling it. You thought you could keep it at bay—the dark, violent urges that came with being a child of Bhaal. But they were growing stronger, whispering in your mind, seeping into your dreams. And then there was Astarion.

Beautiful, sharp-tongued, and endlessly charming Astarion.

He was your light in this abyss, your anchor when the tides of your bloodline threatened to drown you. And that terrified you more than anything. What if one day you lost control? What if the darkness overtook you, and the person you hurt was him?

The thought was too much to bear.

“Brooding by the fire, are we?”

His voice, smooth as silk and tinged with amusement, broke the silence. You looked up to see Astarion approaching, his pale features illuminated by the firelight. He had that same easy grace, that effortless confidence, as he crouched down beside you.

But his eyes—those piercing red eyes—softened when they met yours. “Darling, you’ve been quieter than usual. And that’s saying something, given your quirk of blurting out how one day all will be ash and meat. What’s troubling you?”

You opened your mouth to deflect, to brush it off with some half-hearted excuse. But the weight of it all—the fear, the guilt, the constant battle within yourself—was too much. The dam broke.

“I’m scared, Astarion,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

His playful smirk faded, replaced by a look of genuine concern. “Scared of what?”

You hesitated, your hands trembling as you fidgeted with the edge of your cloak. “Of me. Of what I am. Of what I might do.”

Astarion tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharpening. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your hand, grounding you. “You’ll have to be more specific, love. I’m not following.”

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “I’m a Bhaalspawn, Astarion. Violence, bloodshed, and death are in my veins. Lately, it’s been harder to suppress. The urges… they’re getting louder.”

His brow furrowed, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, he moved closer, his hand now fully enveloping yours.

“And I’m terrified that one day I won’t be able to stop it,” you continued, your voice cracking. “What if I lose control? What if I hurt you?”

Astarion was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he let out a soft chuckle.

“Astarion, this isn’t funny,” you said, your frustration bubbling to the surface.

“No, it’s not,” he said, his tone serious despite the slight curve of his lips. “But the idea of you hurting me? Darling, that’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard.”

Your brows knitted together in confusion. “You don’t understand—”

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” he interrupted, his voice gentle but firm. “You’re battling demons—figurative ones, in this case—and you’re terrified of losing. But let me tell you something: I’ve spent centuries surrounded by true monsters, the kind who delighted in inflicting pain, who relished in their power over others. You? You are nothing like them.”

“But what if—”

He silenced you by cupping your face, his touch cool but steady. “Listen to me. You have more control than you think. The very fact that you’re worried about this, that you’re fighting so hard against it, proves that you’re stronger than whatever darkness is trying to claim you.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but his unwavering gaze held you steady.

“And as for me,” he continued, his tone softening, “I’m not some fragile thing that will break at the first sign of trouble. I’ve survived worse than you can imagine. If you ever lose control, if the worst happens, I’ll stop you. I’ll pull you back. But I don’t believe it will ever come to that.”

You searched his eyes, finding nothing but sincerity and a quiet, fierce determination.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“And you won’t,” he said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Because you’re stronger than this. Stronger than Bhaal, stronger than the urges, stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

The knot in your chest loosened ever so slightly, his words and his presence easing the storm inside you.

“Now,” he said, his playful smirk returning, “let’s go to bed before you spiral into another fit of unnecessary guilt. You need rest, and frankly, so do I. Being this sentimental is exhausting, you know.”

Despite everything, a small laugh escaped you, the tension breaking like the first rays of dawn after a long night. And as he led you back to the tent, his hand never leaving yours, you felt a flicker of hope. Of love, and the urges lurched in response - it made you smile.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

The moon hung high above the camp, its light spilling through the gaps in the trees and painting the world in shades of silver and shadow. Most of the group had retired for the night, the soft murmur of Gale's incantations and the crackling of the fire the only sounds breaking the stillness. You sat alone near the edge of camp, your hands trembling as they gripped your knees.

The pressure inside you had been building for weeks. Suppressing the violent urges that came with being Bhaalspawn was an exhausting battle, one fought every moment of every day. But tonight, it felt different. Heavier. Darker. The whispers at the edge of your mind were louder, tempting you with promises of release, of power, of blood.

And then there was Wyll.

Wyll, who had become your safe haven, your light in the dark. The thought of him—his warm smile, his gentle touch, his unwavering sense of justice—usually kept the worst of it at bay. But tonight, those same thoughts brought a new wave of fear crashing over you. What if you slipped? What if you hurt him? What if the monster in your blood lashed out at the one person who made you feel human?

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear Wyll approach until he spoke, his voice soft and filled with concern.

“Darling, what are you doing out here? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You looked up sharply, startled to see him standing before you, his silhouette framed by the moonlight. He was dressed casually, his usual armor replaced with a simple shirt and trousers, but he still carried that same regal air, like a knight from a storybook.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, your voice hoarse. Wyll frowned, his dark eyes studying you intently.

“Something’s troubling you,” he said, kneeling beside you. “I can see it. Talk to me.”

You hesitated, your throat tightening as the words threatened to choke you. But this was Wyll. If anyone deserved the truth, it was him.

“I’m scared,” you finally said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Not of someone else. Of me.”

Wyll’s frown deepened, but he didn’t interrupt, waiting for you to continue.

“I feel it growing inside me,” you confessed, pressing a hand to your chest. “The violence. The bloodlust. The part of me that’s tied to Bhaal. Most days, I can keep it at bay, but lately… it’s been harder. I can’t stop thinking about what might happen if I lose control. What if—” Your voice broke, and you looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “What if I hurt you?”

Wyll was silent for a moment, and the fear in your chest tightened. But then he reached out, gently taking your hand in his.

“You won’t hurt me,” he said softly, his voice steady and sure.

“You don’t know that,” you whispered, shaking your head. “I don’t even know that.”

“I do know that,” Wyll said, his grip on your hand tightening. “Because I know you. You’re not defined by the blood in your veins or the darkness you fight. You’re defined by your choices, by the person you’ve chosen to be. And that person would never hurt me.”

“But what if I can’t control it?” you asked, your voice trembling. “What if one day it’s too much?”

Wyll’s expression softened, and he reached up to cup your face, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek.

“Then I’ll be here to pull you back,” he said. “I’ve fought devils and demons, faced horrors that would drive most people mad. Do you really think I’d falter in the face of this?”

His words brought a lump to your throat, and you struggled to hold back tears.

“I’m not as strong as you think I am,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wyll smiled, a warm, reassuring expression that seemed to chase away the shadows in your mind.

“You’re stronger than you know,” he said. “And you don’t have to face this alone. We’ll fight it together, just like we’ve faced everything else.”

For the first time that night, the weight on your chest began to ease. Wyll’s unwavering faith in you, his belief in your strength, was enough to quiet the whispers in your mind.

“You’re too good for me,” you said, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

Wyll chuckled, his thumb brushing away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. “Nonsense. If anything, I’m the lucky one. Now, come on,” he said, pulling you to your feet. “Let’s get some rest. The night may be dark, but the dawn always comes.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

The camp was calm that evening, the embers of the fire casting a warm glow on the surrounding trees. The quiet murmurs of your companions settling in for the night mixed with the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze. You sat a distance away from them, perched on a rock at the edge of camp. The weight in your chest felt unbearable, like an anchor dragging you down, deeper into the murky abyss of your thoughts.

For weeks, you’d fought it—the growing darkness, the violent whispers of your lineage that clawed at the edges of your mind. As a Bhaalspawn, the pull toward destruction was an ever-present shadow, lurking just behind your every action, every thought. It was one thing to suppress those urges in battle, but here, in the stillness of camp, when you were surrounded by those you cared about most, the fear took on a sharper edge.

What if one day, the darkness won? What if you hurt someone? What if you hurt Halsin?

The thought alone made your stomach twist with dread. Halsin, with his boundless compassion and unshakable calm, was your anchor, the one thing that made you believe you could rise above the blood that coursed through your veins. He saw the good in you, even when you struggled to see it yourself. The thought of losing him—of being the reason he suffered—was too much to bear.

You heard his footsteps before you saw him, the gentle crunch of leaves beneath his boots a familiar sound that sent a flicker of warmth through your chest. You didn’t look up as he approached, but you felt his presence as he settled beside you on the rock, his broad frame a comforting silhouette against the night.

“You’ve been quiet,” Halsin said, his deep voice soft and laced with concern. “More so than usual. What troubles you, my heart?”

You swallowed hard, your hands twisting in your lap as you tried to find the words. For a moment, you considered brushing it off, telling him it was nothing. But this was Halsin. If anyone deserved the truth, it was him.

“I’m scared,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper. Halsin turned to look at you, his golden eyes studying your face with gentle patience.

“Of what?” he asked, though there was no judgment in his tone—only understanding. You hesitated, your throat tightening.

“Of myself,” you said at last. “Of what I might do. Of what I might become.”

Halsin’s brows furrowed slightly, but he remained silent, waiting for you to continue.

“I can feel it,” you said, gesturing vaguely to your chest. “This… darkness inside me. It’s always there, whispering, urging me toward violence. I can control it, for now, but… what if one day I can’t? What if I lose control, and I hurt someone? What if I hurt you?”

Your voice broke on the last word, and you looked away, ashamed of the tears that pricked at your eyes.

Halsin was silent for a moment, and you braced yourself for his response, your mind racing with worst-case scenarios. But then, to your surprise, he reached out and took your hands in his, his touch warm and grounding.

“Listen to me,” Halsin said, his voice steady and calm. “I have walked this world for many years, and I have seen both the best and the worst it has to offer. I know what it means to carry a heavy burden, to feel as though you are fighting a battle within yourself every day. But you are not defined by the blood in your veins or the whispers in your mind.”

You looked up at him, your breath hitching as you met his gaze. There was no fear in his eyes, no hesitation—only unwavering belief.

“You have a choice,” Halsin continued. “Every day, you choose to rise above the darkness. To fight it, even when it feels impossible. That is what makes you strong. That is what makes you you.”

“But what if it’s not enough?” you asked, your voice barely audible. “What if I fail?”

Halsin smiled softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“Then I will be here to catch you. To remind you of who you are and the goodness you carry within you. And if the worst should ever come to pass…” He hesitated, his expression turning serious. “If you truly lose yourself, I will do what must be done to protect those you care about. But I do not believe it will come to that. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

His words washed over you, easing the tightness in your chest ever so slightly.

“You’re not afraid of me?” you asked, your voice small.

Halsin shook his head. “Afraid of you? No, my heart. I am in awe of you. You face a battle every day that most cannot imagine, and yet you continue to fight. That is not something to fear—it is something to admire.”

The weight in your chest began to lift, replaced by a flicker of hope. Halsin’s faith in you was unshakable, and for the first time in weeks, you began to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could overcome this.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, your voice thick with emotion.

Halsin leaned closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You are not alone in this,” he murmured. “And you never will be. Whatever comes, we will face it together.”

As he pulled you into his arms, the warmth of his embrace chased away the lingering shadows in your mind. For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to feel at peace.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was a bit of a long one for y'all, I struggled slightly with some repetition, but i hope you guys enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

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[astarioffsimpmain]

Furthest from the Truth (Gale x F!Reader)

Pairing: Gale Dekarios x F!Reader

Warnings: Insecurity; indications of past trauma

Author's Note: Well, I was sad and this happened. It may become something, who knows?

It was soft, his presence. It enveloped you with all the tenderness of a lover; or, how you had always assumed a lover would be. Your prospective lovers had all known the words to say, the looks to give, the fleeting touches of promise to provide in order to send you straight off of the edge in search of them. But by the time you had reached the bottom, they had long gone, taking your trust and your love and your sanity with them. It was why, when Astarion had come to you with those eyes, those words, that promising touch, you had recoiled without even a thought. He looked hurt, you felt hurt. But you knew. You knew he had to want something; they always wanted… something. Everything. You had apologized. Gods, you always apologized. It was like the punctuation of your sentences and it escaped your lips before you could stop it. You had apologized and left the elf standing there alone, wondering where you were rushing off to in such a hurry. 

Surprisingly, even to you, you had rushed to him. He had been standing outside his tent with a glass of whine and beautifully flushed cheeks and it was as though a magnet inside of you had finally found its opposite and was pulling you to its mark. You couldn’t wait and you couldn’t stop and you allowed yourself to be drawn in. “I was hoping you’d spare me a moment. There’s something magical I wish to show you. More’s the pity you’ve already found someone else to make merry with. Just the two of you. He has a certain charm about him, Astarion.” 

Your eyes had widened. “What are you talking about?” The confusion you felt spilled over in your words and Gale gave pause.

“Did- did you not- were you not agreeing to, uhm… did you not mean to spend the evening with Astarion?” his smooth verbosity had all but vanished, and your cheeks warmed, a welcome display of nervousness and honesty in his gaze. 

“I promised no such evening to Astarion,” you murmured, and the wizard’s face lit up in response. “But perhaps I can promise my time to someone else?” Had you not been in the presence of the man himself, you would have slapped yourself for being so foolish. You shouldn’t be this bold. Being bold enough to assume he would want to spend this fine evening with you was a dangerous move; heartbreaking for you, almost certainly. You had cringed inwardly at your rashness. 

But your eyes had widened even further once Gale began to respond. “Indeed. I’m glad you feel the same way. But while I’m eager to enjoy your company on an exclusive basis later this evening, it would be selfish to keep you to myself before then. So please, go. Enjoy the festivities. Anticipation will only make our reunion sweeter.” 

And sweeter it was. You stood close to him now, a hair’s breadth away from his warmth, allowing yourself to sink deeper into the fiery umber burn of his eyes, far removed from sense and self preservation. Was this what it felt like? To feel safe; cared for. Is this what he felt with Mystra? A pang of hurt sharded through your heart, ugly and painful, and burrowed deep inside, lighting the rest of your nerves with a sharp ache. His beautiful face contorted in concern and the deep wrinkles between his brows reappeared as they knitted together. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice so soft you could barely hear it at all. He felt it; he felt your pain through the weave. 

You nodded, trying to reign it in; desperate not to frighten him off. Not so soon. You had only just gotten the chance to be near to him. You knew that eventually he would leave you, off to find something - someone - better, but you sought to keep him for as long as you could. His gentleness was addictive, veiling you in a feeling of genuine comfort. The way he looked at you like you were the only person around who held meaning stole the air from your lungs, robbing you blind of your common sense. You knew it had to be temporary. He would learn you, as they all did; learn you and realize that there are cracks in the confident veneer. And once he peered inside of those cracks, he would see your ugliness. He would see the things you so expertly hid; the things you had been taught over and over by others to tuck away into cold and dark places, never to see the light of day. Never to see the light of him. 

Perhaps you and Astarion were not so unalike after all. Perhaps that is why you ran from him. You did not like looking in the mirror.

~

[rafesapologist]

the set up — rafe cameron; part twelve

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you've been one of the pogues since childhood, and your loyalty has always lied within your friend group, who is practically your family. when a threat by the name of rafe cameron begins to threaten the pogue's plans, they assign you to gain the trust of the dubious kook and keep an eye on what he's up to. however, now it's been six months since your friends set you up to spy on the kook prince himself, but what you didn't anticipate was to fall head over heels for the boy. your relationship had soon become inviolable shortly after your guys' first exchanges, much to your friends' dismay, and you two became practically inseperable. that was, until rafe discovers the truth.

warnings: angst, swearing, SMUT

author's note: i hope you guys are enjoying the longer chapters! it feels really nice to be back and have everyone already showing just as much support for this series as you guys did prior to my hiatus. i was struggling with a huge case of writer's block (that i feared i was not going to overcome lol), so i'm really excited to be back writing on here. i do plan to keep updating this series more frequently as well, if you haven't already noticed, sort of to pay my dues for being away for so long. love you mwah

"I do love you."

Your words spilled out abruptly, escaping before you could rein them in. Heat surged through your body, a swift rush of warmth brought on by the sudden and unintended admission. The truth, though genuine, caught you off guard, leaving you reeling in the aftermath of your own confession.

As the reality of what you'd uttered sank in, a wave of regret washed over you, the weight of the moment pressing down with force. Shock etched across your features, a mask of surprise mirrored in your eyes as you grappled with the gravity of your admission.

The air hung heavy with anticipation as silence enveloped the room, your words lingering unspoken, a testament to the vulnerability of the moment. You stared up at Rafe, a mix of emotions swirling within you, uncertain and apprehensive about what his response might entail. In that suspended moment, you grappled with a swirl of emotions, still processing the weight of your confession and unsure of what lay ahead.

"You... what?" Rafe's voice carried a tone of disbelief, his features contorted in confusion, eyebrows knit tightly together. His expression mirrored the astonishment that had engulfed you moments before, leaving both of you seemingly dumbfounded by the unexpected admission that hung in the air.

The aura of disbelief seemed to permeate the room, an unspoken tension weaving between you, each moment stretching as you both grappled with the weight of the statement that had just been uttered, hanging in the air, unaddressed.

"I know I didn't say it before, but Rafe, I was just trying to protect you," you confessed, urgency lacing your words. "I didn't not say it because I didn't feel it or mean it. I just... I don't want you caught up with someone like me." Your voice carried a mix of sincerity and vulnerability, each word spoken with a weight that mirrored the depth of your emotions. The confession hung between you, a delicate yet heartfelt attempt to explain the unspoken, a raw honesty seeping through your words.

"I've fallen in love with you each day I'm with you, Rafe," your voice carried a poignant honesty, baring the depth of your emotions. "I couldn't stop myself from loving you even if I tried."

Rafe stood there, a myriad of emotions flickering across his features—surprise, contemplation, and a hint of something deeper, his gaze fixed on you. His mouth slightly agape, he seemed caught in a moment of contemplation, as though searching for a trace of truth in your eyes.

His searching gaze lingered, probing as if trying to unravel the sincerity behind your words. There was a palpable tension in the air, a pregnant pause, as Rafe grappled with the weight of your confession, silently contemplating his next words or actions.

"How could you possibly hurt me, Y/n?" Rafe's voice carried a mix of hurt and vulnerability, his eyes revealing the turmoil within. "Don't you think it hurts more, feeling like the person you love doesn't love you back?" His words echoed with a deep sense of emotional pain, revealing the ache that had been concealed beneath the surface. There was a rawness in his tone, a poignant vulnerability that laid bare the wounds of unreciprocated emotions.

"It's more complicated than you know, Rafe," you replied, a tinge of sadness seeping into your voice. The weight of unspoken truths and complexities lingered heavily in the air, underscoring the intricate layers of emotions that intertwined between you.

"Stop saying that, Y/n! Whatever it is, we could've worked through it! We could've— we could've made it work regardless of whatever the fuck it is, or was," Rafe's voice trembled with a mix of frustration and desperation. His plea carried an earnest longing, a fervent desire to transcend whatever barriers stood between you, a wish to salvage what seemed irreparably fractured.

Your expression sank into sorrow, mirroring the weight of the moment. "Could've?" you echoed softly, the word lingering in the air, heavy with a sense of missed opportunities and regret. The question hung there, laden with a tinge of realization, an acknowledgment of a potential future that now seemed distant and unattainable.

Rafe sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "All last night and today, I just kept replaying in my head what you said to me. When I told you I loved you, and you basically pushed me away? I mean, is it really that easy for you to just throw me away, Y/n?" Rafe paused, a mix of hurt and confusion etched on his face.

Before he could continue, you interjected with a resolute tone. "No, it's not like that, Rafe." Your voice carried an earnestness, a plea to convey the complexity of the situation. Yet, words seemed to evade you as the weight of the moment settled heavily upon your shoulders.

"Then why? Why was it seemingly so easy for you to shut me out like that?

"It wasn't easy," you responded softly, your voice tinged with a mix of regret and sorrow. "There's just... so much more to it than I can explain right now." The weight of unspoken complexities lingered in your tone, a hint of remorse underscoring your words.

Rafe shook his head in frustration, his movements agitated as he paced back and forth across the room. "You can't even be honest with me?" His voice cracked with exasperation, each step he took emphasizing the intensity of his emotions.

"I am trying to be honest, Rafe," you replied, your voice strained with the weight of the conversation. "But some things... they're just not easy to explain, especially when it's this complicated." You gestured vaguely, trying to articulate the tangled mess of emotions and circumstances that seemed impossible to unravel.

"Trying? You're trying to be honest? Do you hear yourself right now?" Rafe's words came out as a snap, causing you to startle, his tone sharp and cutting. The sting of his words pricked at your emotions, tears welling up in your eyes, a manifestation of the overwhelming frustration and hurt that filled the room.

"I-I'm sorry, Rafe. I didn't mean to hurt you; I was just trying to do what I thought was right," your voice faltered, cracking with emotion. The apology carried a weight of remorse, a desperate attempt to convey your intentions despite the unintended pain caused.

Rafe halted his pacing, his gaze softening as he noticed the tears streaming down your rosy cheeks. "Y/n... don't cry, please," he pleaded, a note of concern lacing his words. His frustration ebbed, replaced by a sense of empathy, as he reached a hand out, almost instinctively, aching to wipe away the tears that marred your face.

"I care about you, Rafe, regardless of if you think I don't," you confessed, your voice tinged with earnestness. "Truly, the only reason I didn't say it back was because I was scared. Because once we both admit that, this becomes serious, and that just opens more doors and ways for one of us to get hurt. I know that doesn't scare you, but it does me. So, I'm sorry."

"Y/n, you think I'm not scared too?" Rafe chuckled softly, a hint of vulnerability in his laughter. "I worry every single day that you're gonna get up and leave, that you'll change your mind and go. The closer I get to you, the more my feelings grow for you. It's terrifying, Y/n. My heart is right in your hands." He looked down, reaching for your hands, rubbing them gently with the pads of his thumbs, a silent plea for understanding and reassurance.

"You never show it," you observed, looking up at him with a hint of confusion. Rafe chuckled quietly, shaking his head in response. "Doesn't make it any less true," he murmured, his gaze meeting yours with a blend of sincerity and a touch of vulnerability.

"Rafe?"

"Yes?" Rafe turned to face you fully, his eyes fixed on yours with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. The room felt charged with emotion as he waited for your next words, a blend of hope and apprehension evident in his expression.

"I really do love you," you spoke quietly, the weight of your words hanging in the air. There was a fragility in your voice, a fear that your declaration might go unheard or misunderstood in the tense atmosphere of the moment.

Rafe's previously unreadable expression softened into a small, tender smile. His eyes glimmered with a quiet warmth, reflecting the sincerity of his feelings. "I love you too, Y/n," he confessed softly, the words carrying an unmistakable honesty and depth of emotion.

As the admission of love hung in the air, an unspoken understanding passed between you and Rafe. The room seemed to soften, the atmosphere charged with an indescribable warmth. Rafe gently cupped your face with his hands, his touch both tender and reassuring.

His lips met yours in a lingering kiss, a soft and sweet connection that spoke volumes in the silence. It wasn't just a meeting of lips; it was an exchange of emotions, a promise sealed with the gentle press of each kiss. Time seemed to slow as you shared this intimate moment, lost in the sensation of being close, of feeling the heartbeat that echoed the depth of your emotions.

The kiss held a tenderness that transcended words, conveying a shared vulnerability and a newfound closeness. When you finally pulled away, the air between you felt charged with a newfound understanding, a connection that went beyond spoken confessions. The small smile that lingered on both your faces spoke of a silent agreement, a promise to navigate the complexities ahead together.

Without a word, Rafe's lips crash against yours in a desperate, intoxicating kiss. Your mouths meld together, tongues entwined in a passionate dance. The taste of him fills your senses, fueling your desire for more.

As the intensity of the kiss deepens, Rafe's hands begin to explore, gliding over the curves of your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Piece by piece, fabric falls away, revealing your vulnerability and beauty. Every touch, every stroke, heightens the ache of longing.

With a gentle yet commanding touch, Rafe guides you towards the bed, a haven of pleasure awaiting your arrival. You surrender to the soft sheets, your bodies entangled in a symphony of desire. The room fills with the sound of your shared moans and whispers.

His lips trail down your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses along your collarbone. Your breath hitches as he moves lower, his hands caressing your breasts, his tongue flicking against your hardened nipples. Pleasure courses through you, urging you to arch your back and moan his name.

Rafe's hands continue to explore, his fingers teasingly tracing the sensitive spots of your body. A gasp escapes your lips as he dips lower, his mouth finding its way to your most intimate area. His tongue dances expertly, flicking and swirling, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

The intensity builds, and you find yourself craving more. You guide Rafe's body on top of yours, feeling the weight of his desire pressing against you. As he enters you, a moan escapes your lips, merging with his own sounds of pleasure.

Your bodies move in synchrony, a dance of passion and ecstasy. Each thrust brings you closer to the edge, your senses heightened by the intoxicating pleasure. The room fills with the sounds of your moans, mingling with the rhythmic slapping of flesh against flesh.

Rafe's thrusts become more urgent, each one pushing you closer to the edge. He watches you intently, his eyes filled with a mix of raw passion and adoration. With each movement, you can feel the heat building within you, a coil of desire ready to explode.

Your fingers find their way to Rafe's back, digging into his flesh as you draw him closer, craving a deeper connection. The rhythm of your bodies becomes frenzied, the friction between you intensifying the sensations that ripple through your core.

Every nerve ending in your body feels alive, on the brink of complete surrender. The pleasure becomes almost overwhelming, a delicious ache that demands release. Your moans blend together, a symphony of ecstasy that fills the room.

As Rafe's hand finds its way between your bodies, his touch sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you. His fingers expertly explore the most sensitive part of your being, pushing you closer to the edge with each skilled stroke.

With your bodies intertwined, the sensation builds to an exquisite crescendo. It's as if time slows down, each moment stretching with anticipation. You can feel the wave of climax crashing over you, ready to engulf you in its blissful embrace.

As you reach the precipice, your bodies tense with anticipation. Your breath catches in your throat as you lock eyes with Rafe, a silent understanding passing between you. And then, with one final thrust, the dam breaks.

A surge of pleasure engulfs you, radiating from the depths of your being. The world around you fades away as you ride the wave of ecstasy, your bodies trembling in unison. You cry out in pure bliss, your voice mingling with Rafe's as you both reach the pinnacle of pleasure.

In that moment of release, time stands still. Your bodies continue to quiver with aftershocks, basking in the euphoria that washes over you. You lie intertwined, breathless and spent, knowing that you have shared an intimate connection unlike any other.

As the intense waves of pleasure subside, you and Rafe lie intertwined, your bodies still tingling with the aftermath of your passionate encounter. The room is filled with a sense of intimacy and contentment, your connection deepened by the shared experience. Rafe's arm wraps protectively around you, pulling you closer to his warm and comforting embrace. His touch is gentle, his fingertips tracing soothing patterns along your skin. You feel a sense of peace wash over you as you rest against his chest, your heartbeats gradually returning to normal.

Your breathing gradually steadies, matching the rhythm of each other's as you bask in the aftermath of your shared climax. A comfortable silence envelops you both, punctuated only by soft whispers and the occasional tender kiss.

As you look into Rafe's eyes, you see a mixture of love and adoration reflected back at you. It's a silent affirmation of the connection you share, a bond that goes beyond the physical realm. In this moment, there is no doubt that your love for each other is real and profound. Words become unnecessary as you communicate through simple touches and gentle caresses. Your fingers trace the contours of his face, committing every detail to memory. It's an unspoken promise to cherish this moment, this connection, forever.

"You're so perfect," Rafe whispered softly, his warm breath caressing your skin as his gentle fingers traced delicate patterns through your silken strands of hair. The tenderness in his touch sent shivers of pleasure down your spine, as you lost yourself in the intoxicating sensation of his presence.

In the tranquility of Rafe's words, you responded with a tender hum, feeling the weariness gradually seep into your bones. The comforting warmth of his bare arms drew you closer, and in the safety of his embrace, you surrendered to the embrace of sleep, your breathing steadying as consciousness gently slipped away.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You stirred from slumber hours later, the faint glow of the room revealing Rafe's silhouette. He sat beside you, immersed in the soft illumination of the TV, his attention captured by the flickering screen. As you awakened, he glanced over, a gentle smile gracing his lips at the sight of your awakening.

As your eyelids fluttered open, the room's soft ambiance greeted you. With a gentle stretch, you shifted, your voice carrying a hint of sleepiness as you asked, "Mm, what time is it?" Rubbing away the remnants of slumber from your eyes, you sought to orient yourself in the space around you.

"Midnight," chuckled Rafe, the soft glow of the room emphasizing the amusement in his voice. Your eyes widened as the realization hit that you had dozed through most of the day. "You were pretty much knocked out after we did it," he teased, prompting you to playfully nudge him away with a feignedly annoyed expression dancing across your face.

"Haha, very funny," you retorted, rolling your eyes playfully. "Has anyone come back yet?" Curiosity lingered in your inquiry, contemplating if the two of you were the only occupants in the house.

"Uh, no, no they haven't yet," Rafe responded, a casual shrug accompanying his words. "Dad said things got delayed, and he has some shit he has to do before he comes home, I guess." His attention remained fixed on the TV screen, his relaxed demeanor indicating a sense of ease and obliviousness in the moment.

"Got it," you murmured, settling back onto the bed. Thoughts raced through your mind, pondering if Ward had discovered anything about the gold and its disappearance. An undercurrent of concern mingled with curiosity, creating a sense of unease that lingered beneath the surface.

"Something wrong?" Rafe's voice was gentle as he turned his head towards you, concern etched in his expression.

You shook your head, a faint smile touching your lips. "No, no! I just... figured they'd been gone a while," you reassured, attempting to downplay the anxious thoughts that had surfaced.

"They usually are," Rafe shrugged casually, his tone holding a hint of familiarity with the situation. "Dad gets his mind set on doing something and doesn't stop 'til it's done, especially when it comes to the gold." His words held a mixture of nonchalance and understanding, reflecting a familiarity with his father's determined nature when it came to matters concerning the gold.

"Right..." You echoed softly, acknowledging Rafe's insight with a hint of uncertainty lingering in your response.

Suddenly, Rafe hit pause on the TV, shifting to sit on his side, facing you directly. "I want to talk to you about something," he started, prompting an immediate increase in your heart rate. You sat up slightly, anticipation coursing through you. "Okay, go on," you encouraged, your voice tinged with a hint of apprehension.

"Well, we haven't talked about it much, and it's coming up, so I thought it would be important to mention it now," Rafe began, his tone measured. "Midsummers."

"Oh." Your body relaxed, a wave of relief washing over you as your worst fears weren't materializing in that moment. "What about it?"

Rafe's expression softened into a gentle smile. "Well, I know dresses can be pretty... pricey, especially for an event like that. So, I'm gonna give you the money to buy whatever you need for it. I want my girl to feel and look like the princess she is," he beamed.

You sat there, stunned by his unexpected gesture, feeling a mixture of disbelief and gratitude coursing through you. "Rafe, this is too much, you don't have to do that," you insisted softly, your eyes meeting his in genuine surprise.

"I want to," he repeated, his voice steady and resolute. There was a sincerity in his eyes that struck you, a genuine desire to make this occasion special for you. The warmth in his gaze was undeniable, and his unwavering determination to see this through made your heart flutter with a mix of emotions.

You hesitated for a moment, torn between the overwhelming gratitude for Rafe's gesture and your own sense of independence. His unwavering determination was evident, and you knew him well enough to recognize that once he set his mind on something, it was nearly impossible to dissuade him.

"Rafe..." You sighed, looking at him with a mixture of emotions, trying to find the right words to express both appreciation and reservation. "I really appreciate it, but it's just... I don't want to impose," you trailed off, fiddling with your fingers, uncertain of how to gracefully accept his generosity.

Rafe's expression softened as he reached out, gently taking your hand in his. "Y/n, it's not an imposition. It's something I want to do for you." His eyes held a sincerity that resonated deeply, his gaze unwavering.

You met his gaze, seeing the earnestness in his eyes, and with a small smile, you relented. "Okay, Rafe. Thank you," you finally acquiesced, knowing that he wouldn't take no for an answer, a mix of appreciation and a hint of amusement playing on your lips as you gave in to his stubborn yet endearing nature.

"Thank you," you whispered again, touched by his genuine effort to make you feel special. Rafe's smile widened at your acceptance, and he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, a soft and reassuring gesture that warmed your heart. "That's my girl," he murmured, his voice filled with affection and pride, his hand tenderly resting on yours.

As you sat there, basking in Rafe's warmth and his kind gesture, your phone vibrated on the night stand. Curiosity piqued, you furtively glanced at the screen, seeing a message from Kiara. The text's urgency was unmistakable, your friends possibly caught in some trouble.

Your expression shifted involuntarily, a blend of concern and worry crossing your features. However, even in your attempt to hide it, Rafe, perceptive as always, noticed the change in your demeanor. His brows furrowed inquisitively. "Is everything okay?"

You swiftly pocketed your phone, trying to compose yourself. "Yeah, it's just... something Kiara mentioned," you replied vaguely, trying to mask the unease in your voice.

Rafe's concern mirrored in his eyes as he reached out, gently placing his hand on your arm. "What happened? Is it serious?"

You debated whether to tell him or not, but the concern in his eyes made you reconsider. "I'm not sure yet," you said, attempting to keep the situation vague as you grappled with the balance of keeping him informed and not alarming him unnecessarily.

The shrill ring of your phone broke the tense air. With a glance at the caller ID flashing Kiara's name, you swiftly picked up. "Kiara? What is it?" Your voice held a tinge of urgency and concern.

Rafe watched you closely, sensing the gravity of the situation from your anxious tone. He remained silent, giving you space to handle the call, but his eyes spoke volumes, questioning and concerned about the sudden change in atmosphere.

"JJ's missing."

taglist: @ellesalazar, @champomiel, @vadinaleme, @kys4-20, @gills-lounge, @allsmilesreally7, @sublimepenguinpeach-blog, @sp00ky-spr1te, @bibliophilewednesday, @haroldpotterson, @i-love-rafe, @ellesalazar, @calmoistorm, @abundantxadorations, @fals3-g0d, @gillybear17, @oiiviagrande, @hockeybabe87, @augustlikesdeath, @wpdailyminimeta, @palmwinemami, @loxleys-blog, @ikisscline, @flyestvenustrap, @ilovesteveharrngton, @ijustwanttoreadlols

[p1nkshield]

Part two of the prompt written by phantom-dc

I hope you enjoy!

Jason carefully picked up the core after Bruce left and looked over it, inspecting each and every inch.

“Thank you”

“So you can speak!” Jason said incredulously.

“Takes a lot” a small barely audible reply entered Jason’s mind. “But I will heal eventually.”

“Then rest up kid, only let me know if there’s something you need okay?”

“Okay”

Jason stayed in the manor carrying around this stone they got from patrol a few weeks ago. If he was not holding it was sitting on something soft within his reach and line of sight. His family grew more and more concerned as the weeks went by.

Tim began to preface the goals of the family meeting regarding Jason’s behavior.

“Okay it is clear to everyone here that ever since Jason got that weird rock on patrol he’s been acting different. I thought we could all corroborate our experiences”

Damian piped up “I saw him speaking to it as if it responded to him. He spoke to it and waited in turn” Damian then took some time to consider his words. “He then looked at me quizzically as if I were acting strange.”

Alfred then spoke as his brows knit together “I saw young master Jason with the old children’s book titled Mog’s birthday. I thought perhaps he was enjoying it for the sake of nostalgia as I used to read it to him when he was a child. I soon found myself mistaken. He was reading it aloud to this ‘core’”

“Has anyone noticed that when we discussed the organization behind this attack Jason just gets up and leaves?” Tim questioned

Dick nodded along with everyone “One more thing. He was singing to it. I haven’t heard him sing since…”

The rest went unsaid. Bruce needed to confront him. Perhaps this power source was more than he realized. If he had led his son to being mind controlled after everything that happened to him he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. He had to get to the bottom of this quickly.

Jason made his way to the dinner table chatting idly with the core in tow.

“Hey kid, one thing to know about Alfred is that he’s the coolest guy you’ll ever meet, he was the one who got me into some of my favorite hobbies.”

“And my old man, usually is such a pain in the… uhh yeah, he never really trusts me with important things off the battlefield until he trusted me with you.”

A light laugh floated up from the core “I’m important?”

“Of course you are, you’re a kid! I may be a scary gunslinger but I still want to protect the innocent”

The core spoke again, this time softer.

“Thank you”

“You’re welcome. You’ve been rather talkative today do you feel any better?”

“Yes! I might be able to”

“Jason, please sit down.” Bruce called out to him

Jason sat down a little annoyed since Bruce interrupted the child. looking at all the worried faces cooled his anger as Bruce began to speak.

“Jason have you noticed that your behavior has been significantly different as of late?”

“I mean yea but”

Before Jason could finish his sentence the core glowed with ice blue light and floated out of his reach.

“KID?!? TALK TO ME WHATS GOING ON?”

His answer came in a white haired glowing little boy in a black and white hazmat suit falling towards the ground, whom Jason caught easily.

This family of crime fighting detectives had never looked so surprised. Dick dropped his forkful of spaghetti onto his lap as he stared.

“What? I thought you knew!”

@hnymp

@apointlessbox

@asphyxia778

@runfromthemedic

@ectoradiation

@tired-yet-awaken

@meira-3919

@zelabee

@persephonerose96

@rubber-ducky-your-the-one

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@simplykaren

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

Eruri Week Day 3, authority kink prompt!

cw: light bondage, trust kink, bottom!Erwin // wc: 1.5k // [ao3] @nsfweruriweek2024

Levi’s hands shook as he tightened Erwin’s harness, but his voice was low and even. “How long has it been since you allowed yourself this luxury, Commander?” 

Erwin didn’t answer. His eyes were fixed on the sliver of skin bared at his Captain’s throat where the cravat had been torn away. Levi tapped a hot palm against his cheek, impatient at the silence. 

“I asked how long it had been.” Levi searched Erwin’s eyes, steely gray questioning his sky blues. 

“A very long time,” Erwin admitted, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Levi tugged once more at the leather straps, then stepped back with a satisfied nod. 

“Test them. Try your strength.” 

Erwin strained his wrists against the belt, his belt, removed and repurposed as restraints. A shaky half-smile. “Quite the secure hold, Captain. Are you sure this is necessary? I hardly think-”

“Shhh. You don’t need to think. You’re under my command right now, understand?” Levi tipped Erwin’s chin up with a finger, doing his best to loom over the man in spirit if not in height. 

“I understand,” Erwin murmured obediently. The sound sent a thrill down Levi’s spine. 

“Good.” He nudged Erwin’s legs apart with his knee and stepped between them. A heat settled on the back of his neck as he drank in the sight of his Commander, bound and meek before him, powerful hands pinned behind the chair he sat in.

His voice was softer than Erwin had ever heard it. “You’ve been in charge of so much for so very long. Such weight on your shoulders…” He trailed his fingertips across the shoulders in question as he spoke, relishing in the older man’s shiver. “Never allowed to show weakness, to submit…”

A vulnerable noise bubbled from the back of Erwin’s throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep his composure. Everything the Captain was saying was true, but this vulnerability was utterly alien to him, and it itched under his skin. He shifted, lifting his chin out of Levi’s gentle grip. “It is my duty.”

Levi tsked, allowing him to refuse his touch, for now. “Your duty, yes. And you fulfill it so admirably, Commander.” The title, so often spoken with reverence, suddenly sounded like a tease. “One might wonder how a man of your strength, your integrity, ever finds respite, release…”

Erwin laughed helplessly. “Respite, release. More luxuries.” 

Levi ignored him, deft hands now sliding down Erwin’s broad arms, the planes of his firm chest. “So lonely at the top, isn’t it? Always giving orders, never taking them. No one to give them to you…” He shook his head in sympathy. “I am your loyal Captain. Am I not?”

“Yes. Yes, of course you are.” 

Levi’s fingers dipped below Erwin’s collar. “And you trust me, Commander?”

“More than anyone. More than myself.”

“You honor me,” Levi whispered, his lips at Erwin’s ear. “Allow me this.” He traced the Commander’s sharp collarbones, sliding the shirt off his shoulders. 

Erwin held himself still, eyes falling shut under Levi’s gentle explorations. “What are you-”

“Shhh.” Levi placed his fingers to Erwin’s lips. “Don’t question me, soldier.”

Erwin shuddered, a spark flying down his spine at the low command. “Yes, sir,” came his whispered response.

Levi smiled sharply, his lips now at Erwin’s knitted brow, then trailing the column of his neck. Chaste kisses that burned where they fell, phoenix feather-light. The role reversal made Levi’s skin crawl, his heart soar- improper, delicious, necessary and right. He reached for the medal on his Commander’s neck, yanked his face closer by the thin cord. 

When their lips met, Levi thought he might die, drowned in the tide of Erwin’s ragged breathing, crushed under the weight of his tongue in his mouth. Erwin, for his part, was ravenous for the taste of his Captain, aching to take him in his arms and devour him whole. Tied to the chair, he was forced to Levi take the lead in a way no one ever had with him before.

Levi swallowed Erwin’s moans eagerly, steadying himself with his hands on the man’s hips. The chair threatened to tip as the kiss continued, both men breathless but unwilling to part for air. Levi broke first, staggering back with a gasp as Erwin strained to chase his lips. 

The Captain’s eyes were bright as stars as he knelt before his Commander. Erwin gasped, opened his mouth to say something, but the words stuck in his throat as Levi unfastened his trousers. Erwin’s cock sprang free, greedy and slick with pearls of precum. Levi smiled, touched his tongue to the blonde’s drooling tip. 

“You’re beautiful, soldier,” Levi purred, Erwin’s cock jumping with the heat of his breath. 

“Thank you, Levi,” Erwin rasped. Levi jerked his mouth away and frowned.

“Levi? I don’t think that’s an appropriate way to address your superior officer.”

Erwin bit his lip. “Wh- what do you want me to say?”

Levi considered. “I want you to say please. And use my title.”

“Please, Captain.”

“Mm, much better.” Levi lowered his mouth to Erwin’s cock again, flicking his tongue against the vein that ran beneath his shaft. Erwin fought to roll his hips up, desperate for more stimulation, until Levi finally acquiesced. 

The Commander’s eyes rolled back as Levi took him into his mouth. Levi’s intensity was overwhelming at the best of times, but it was utterly devastating now, directed wholly at Erwin’s body. He hollowed his cheeks as he swallowed him deeper, skillful tongue laving over his throbbing head with each suck. 

Erwin curled his hands into fists behind the chair, crying out as he hit the back of Levi’s throat. Levi choked, the spasm sending Erwin into a frenzy. “Captain, please, you’re killing me…!”

Levi shoved himself all the way down, sharp nose pressed against Erwin’s abs. His entire world narrowed to the moans that wrung from the man above him, the clench of muscular thighs around his head, the musky taste of the cock down his throat. He couldn’t breathe, didn’t want to breathe, didn’t need to breathe. 

Erwin’s smooth blonde hair had fallen out of place, glued to his forehead with sweat as he stared down at Levi through heavy-lidded eyes. He had never seen anything as beautiful as the Captain on his knees, in complete control even as he gagged and drooled onto his own trousers. Erwin’s fingers twitched, wanting to tangle in the other man’s hair and wring the pleasure from him, wanting to stroke his flushed cheek. They adored each other wordlessly.

Levi tore himself off of Erwin’s cock, gasping for air. He didn’t seem to notice the tears that ran down his cheeks, his ever-scowling face smoothed into something like awe. He roughly shoved the Commander’s shirt up, pressing hot, needy kisses to the exposed skin as Erwin whimpered for him to come back, to finish him-

“Shut up, soldier.” There was no real strength behind the words. Levi’s firm voice was ragged with want, and Erwin was no better, whimpering at the command. 

Levi returned to his task, bobbing his head with new urgency as he felt Erwin tense and throb on his tongue.

“Captain, I’m going to- I’m close, you can’t-” Erwin tried to pull his hips away, but Levi clung to him furiously. He swirled his tongue faster, long fingers caressing Erwin’s base whenever his mouth left it, not allowing any part of the Commander to remain untouched. 

“I want you to cum in my mouth,” Levi murmured, cock-drunk and demanding, spit-slick chin propped on Erwin’s knee. 

“What? You want me to-” 

“That’s an order.” Levi’s eyes flashed, no room for argument. “You’re going to cum down my throat, soldier.” 

Erwin groaned, his head falling forward in defeat. “Yes sir.” 

Levi spat on the Commander’s cock, smiling wickedly up from his knees before surging forward to devour him again. Erwin’s whole body was electrified, tense almost to the point of pain as he hurtled toward his peak. The skin around his wrists were rubbed raw as he twisted them, his medal of honor red-hot where it lay against his burning skin.

“So good for me,” Levi mumbled around him. Erwin trembled, ached, thrust himself deeper into the wet heat of his Captain’s mouth. 

“I’m…fuck, L-Levi- Captain..!” Erwin’s voice broke as he fell apart. Levi took him to the hilt, steely eyes locked on the beautiful collapse of his Commander. The burning ache in his jaw, his knees, the sacrificial strain of the act was forgotten with each burst of Erwin’s bitter cum on his tongue. Levi swallowed it desperately, the sticky fluid an absolution, eager tongue darting out to catch the drops that spilled over his lips. 

“Commander…” he groaned. 

Erwin’s eyes were wild, pupils blown wide, an eclipse over the sea. “Erwin,” he corrected firmly.

“Erwin…” Levi repeated it like a prayer, shaky hands undoing the belt that held the blonde’s hands back. As soon as it fell free, Erwin swept Levi into his arms, thumbing away the tears still drying on his red cheeks, his swollen lips. 

The taste of Erwin’s release and Levi’s devotion swirled between them when their lips met, Levi rising from his knees and Erwin falling to his own until they met in the middle, a mutual surrender.

[stayevildarling]

Wilhemina Venable x Reader- Million Reasons

A/N: I‘m back with a little Wilhemina fic. I‘ve been intrigued to write about the character falling for reader and their perspective rather than what I usually write 💜 Title is inspired by the song but I haven‘t incorporated the actual lyrics into this. I proofread this and accidentally deleted the draft, there are some mistakes in this, pls ignore those as I‘m sick and not in the mood to do that again

tw/tags: female reader, mention of scoliosis, mention of unrequited love, some angst/hurt and comfort as always, very much descriptive and not a lot of conversation

word count: 5.5k

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @billiebeanhoward , @lanawinters-ily , @kenzbro , @minaslittleone , @httpfiftyshadesofgay @whitelotus00 , @ninaahs , @paulsonsratched , @vintagepaulson , @isle-of-earle , @grilledcheeseandguavajelly , @lucyintheskywithxanax , @fanfics4world , @mymiraclewitch , @hazard-to-myself , @awritersometimes , @wastdstime , @p1pecleanerwitheyes , @queen2234 , @ihartnat , @lifebyinez , @stepintomyworld , @ahsatanizgay , @blu3dimples

The woman with red hair, captivating brown eyes had a million reasons to fall in love with you. Wilhemina Venable had a simple life, focused on her work which consisted of long days, getting up before the sun rises and often leaving the office building last. She had given her career to the company, practically building it from the back of a van many years ago. And despite her hating her two bosses with every fibre of her being, she had always taken her job seriously. It was her life and she dedicated all her time on it, investing in an extra room at her home, turning it into an office space in order to work from home on the weekends or in the middle of the nights when she couldn‘t find sleep and the files would pile up on her desk.

The redhead, stern woman had never really had much of a private life, barely a decent hobby other than the occasional knitting or watching something on the history channel. She had always loved books, often getting lost in it‘s pages, sometimes finishing a whole book over night as the content captivated her. Committing to anything other than her job felt impossible for the woman obsessed with control and order. It took her several years of doubting before she allowed herself to finally adopt a kitten, by now her truest and most loyal companion. She didn��t like opening herself up to people, the past and life having hurt her too much to ever allow her to slip again and put trust in other people.

Thats why Wilhemina, also HR of Kineros Robotics hated the idea of her bosses hiring her an assistant. She had never got along with any of them, to the point where they stopped hiring that position many years ago. She didn‘t like their incompetence, that they didn‘t take this as seriously as her, that they only made her job a lot harder. And despite their idiotic traits, they had wanted to do her a favour, hiring someone to help her as the orders have been piling up and they genuinely wanted to help her out, knowing she had sacrificed a lot for this company. It was a rare moment of clarity as usually they are high and off their heads.

Many weeks ago when you had walked into her office the first time, she hated the idea, her nose scrunching in that all too familiar way when disapproving of something. But somehow, she couldn‘t even apply her usual amount of sarcasm and bitchiness as she saw you standing there, notebook neatly wrapped in your hand, a polite smile on your face and somehow the woman could feel you were different than those other assistants before. She almost too politely showed you to the small desk in the corner of her office, facing the wall as she hated having to share the office and not wanting to lay eyes upon this new assistant.

The first few weeks you had managed to prove her right though, never making a mistake, adressing your question to people below her in order not to bother her. You would fetch her coffee without her asking, doing your research beforehand on how she takes it. You would do your work quietly, tapping away on your computer, staring at the wall rather than the window or the woman on the opposite side of the room. You never complained about anything, always volunteering to go to the printers and without asking bringing her the files she had printed also. You didn‘t fall for the silly, yet disgusting jokes of the bosses, simply remaining silent. You didn‘t get yourself into any drama with the other coworkers, either taking your lunch by your desk when the redhead wasn‘t present in order not to bother her or even outside on a bench.

The redhead had never seen you on your private cellphone, never joining for the drinks with the other coworkers after shifts. You were completely and utterly different to her previous assistants and she secretly admired you for it. It took her a while to realize that you are somewhat like her, closed off about your private life, doing your work perfectly and simply going home at the end of your shift. She never approved her other assistants flirting and chatting with the bosses or the disgusting male coworkers from a few floors below, didn‘t appreciate the hangovers and the assistants calling out sick after seeing them going for drinks with the others. And you were different, almost like her and that was the first reason for Wilhemina.

Month one finished and the first challenge arose as both bosses had approved on a rather large order and customer, agreeing and signing the contracts before making sure the materials are available and the contributers on the same page. It meant endless long nights for Wilhemina and she really didn‘t feel like it that week, her back and condition especially rough in the past week. Her eyebrows furrowed when she watched you type away on your desk, long past your usual workday, everyone already having left for the night.

„Ms Y/LN“ she began, causing you to turn around and face her in an instant. „Yes Ms Venable?“ you asked, your voice as friendly as always. „What are you still doing here? you‘re aware we don‘t pay enough for overhours?“ she retorted, her mood particularly bad from her bosses actions and the physical toll of her condition. „Yes Ms. Venable, I‘m aware of that but I know the importance of this project and the deadlines“ you explained and she simply nodded before letting you carry on, astounded at your politeness and the fact you seemed to want to finish the work regardless of the hours and not caring about the pay either. In the end, by night two the two of you had figured it out completely, finishing everything and making sure the order is ready to go by the next morning. And that was Wilhemina‘s second reason, your selflessness, your sense of responsibility and how despite your younger age you care about this company and inevitably the woman you are working with. You had noticed how she never usually eats past lunch and for evening two you took your break and picked up some to go food, doing your research and picking her favorite place, getting her a salad and smoothie and placing it sublty on her desk, without making any comment. The two of you typed away in silence while eating but the woman couldn‘t fully focus, her mind clouded by you.

After that night, the next morning as you arrived, you found your desk in a different position, facing the window rather than the wall and you knew then that you must have done something right, smiling sublty, while enjoying the new view of your desk.

And so, the usual stoic woman found herself thinking about you outside of work, how you had something so effortless yet unique. She never saw you in the same outfit in a week, almost dressed professional but somehow still comfortable, you managed to make a comfortable sweater or cardigan look utterly professional. She liked your rings and how you would play with them a little whenever you are nervous or concentrating on your work. She loved that you occassionally mutter to yourself ever so quietly when reading something, which would usually drive her crazy and unleash her inner dragon but somehow it made her smile on the inside. She liked the stationary you kept hidden in your desk draw, the notebook with flowers on, the packet of teddy bear highlighters and bunny postits that you would only use when she isn't around, using the office standard whenever she is watching. But she had caught on, liking the little unique details about you and how sublty she noticed them over time.

Wilhemina started to grow curious about you, wishing you would share more about yourself, suddenly finding herself wondering what your favorite music is, whether you like to read, whether you have a pet. And some more months in she would ask herself what your life outside of work may be, having done some research on social media but unable to find much about your private life. She wondered whether you may have someone in your life, what you are interested in. But the redhead never finds herself to ever ask you, engage in any conversations without you that aren‘t about work. Sometimes, she would sit there, her hands ghosting over her keyboard, simply staring at you and wondering what she could say or how she could ever say the words on the tip of her tongue.

And then Wilhemina found herself turning back to writing, something she would very rarely do these days, finding herself lost in poetry, writing about the colour of your eyes, the colour of your hair and what those reminded you of. How she would like to know your favorite flower, wishing she could coat your desk with them, wondering what your hand would feel like and whether it could fit into her own. And before she knew it, the woman realized what this was turning into, the familiar longing in her heart, the sudden nerves when around you and the having to withdraw from staring at you too much during the day. She had felt this longing before, rarely ever so strong though and she knew she had to intervene before this could hurt her too much. She knew she wouldn‘t stand a chance, knowing no one could ever truly be interested in her and even by the slim chance that they are, they could never truly accept and love her when they found out about her physical condition.

Wilhemina had learnt the hard way that people would feel bad, either treat her like a child and doing everything for her or telling her its not that bad and other people suffer with worse and that she needs to keep it together. And neither she ever wanted to go through again, so all her life she had pushed any resemblance of a family, friends or a love interest away. And so as the rainy days came by, she turned quieter, more drawn to herself and losing herself in work, sometimes simply spending nights in her office and working, not wanting to go back to her lonely home and wonder what your company may be like there. She retreated from talking to you unless completely necessary, barely making any eye contact and sometimes her usual sarcasm would even slip out.

Now, over the past six months you had gotten to know your boss, knowing how strict and driven she was, seeing how she spoke to people over the phone that annoyed her, seeing how she would answer to the two bosses and throw the same rude comments right back at them, never taking their inappropriate jokes or sometimes even abuse. You heard the shatter by the coffee machines how she hasn‘t fired you yet, how you managed to tame the dragon, never giving in to those comments and simply brushing them off. But you enjoyed her presence, working beside her even through silence, her presence comforting and somehow keeping you calm during the rush of this job and working for the company. And you noticed her pulling away ever so slightly, assuming she may be struggling with some personal things but somehow you wanted to help her, having seen her cane of course, her posture and the medication vials, despite her doing her best to hide it from you. But of course the others chatted about her scoliosis, the occasional comment about the rain making it worse and whether her next outburst may come but you didn‘t care about what they said, wanting to make her life easier, having grown fond of the woman you are working for over these past few months.

„Ms Venable?“ you asked one rainy afternoon, the rain pattering quietly against the large windows as you stood in front of her after your break. She simply carried on typing before muttering some sort of reply that she was listening. „May I assist you with anything?“ you asked, knowing there was no point in asking her whether you can ask her something, knowing she disapproved of unnecessary etiquettes like that. „Have you checked whether those bills have been handed to finances?“ she asked, never once glancing at you. „Yes Ms Venable, all done“ you explained before she nodded, mumbling about you getting back to work. But you didn‘t back away, remaining there before you cleared your throat. „I was wondering if there is anything I can assist you with“ you clarified, causing her eyes to snap towards you, sensing the slight nervousness in your voice for the first time since working with you.

„Whatever do you mean?“ she asked, adjusting her glasses as they slightly moved down her nose from all the reading. „It‘s just I know how demanding this job is for you and after all I am hired as your assistant so I‘d be happy to fetch you whatever you may need, coffee, lunch or even some personal errands, knowing how much time you spend here“ you explained, your heart practically beating out of your chest by the end of it. And Wilhemina found herself torn, this being yet another reason but she had to fight it, keep her walls where they had always been, snapping some reply towards you, causing you to nod and return to your desk, fighting back the tears, wondering what you may had done wrong for her to change so much within the last few weeks. Yet you soldiered through, resuming your work and brushing it off as her having a rough time, knowing you at least did your best to offer it to her.

The next morning as you returned to work, your desk was gone and someone had informed you of you working in the hallway by a smaller desk, right between Ms Venable‘s office and the two bosses. You sighed, wondering what exactly you had done wrong and sad not to be working as closely with her as before. You never questioned that the desk was different, that yet you found your stationary in a draw neatly placed, never connecting the dots as to whom had placed them there in the first place. And momentarily the woman found peace for a few weeks, her mind not constantly clouded and driven by her emotions and reasons of falling in love with you, being able to focus on her work, going home in the evening and spent the night with her most truest and loyal companion. Weeks passed and she would only occasionally see you, the same coffee always there, the files always there waiting for her from the printer. Often she would communicate with you via email, telling you exactly what she needed and she found it easier to cope with her reality.

She had started seeing her therapist again, cancelling the last few sessions due to her demanding work but she managed to talk about you and despite the reassurance that she deserved this, should give this a shot, she couldn‘t believe it, couldn‘t trust the risks, despite having made major breakthroughs in the past while working on herself and slowly healing from some of live's traumas. Things however took a turn when she needed a document urgently, walking to the printers herself before finding you in the small room next door, your face tear stained as you stared at the coffee machine. She carried on but stopped herself in time, returning before finding you turning to her with a brave smile, acting as if nothing happened. She didn't question it, gathering from the two coffee cups you are holding that this may be her bosses doing and so she observed quietly and from a distance, seeing how many times you would walk away from your desk, constantly having to go into your bosses office either to serve or entertain them.

The redhead felt bad, this ultimately her doing for punishing you away for her own feelings. She watched quietly as you walked away yet again to fetch them something before stepping into their large office "I'm so glad Venny got sick of this one, she's perfect" one of them muttered, causing her blood to boil and her overprotectiveness to kick in, which was rare for the woman obsessed with lilac. Her cane banged on the floor twice as she put them in their place and you stood there frozen as she turned around and faced you. "Follow me" she instructed and you did as you are told before she pointed at your old desk in her office "You'll stay in our office again and we will never speak of this again, understood?" she questioned and you nodded eagerly before thanking her and fetching your belongings again. "Our office" the words kept repeating in her head, wanting to slap herself for ever saying that and judging herself for having gone so soft on you.

„Did they do anything to make you uncomfortable?“ she asked out of the blue a while later and you turned to her before answering „No Ms Venable“ and she left it at that, knowing you trusted her enough by now to voice if anything serious happend. Yet, her overprotectiveness caused her issue to return, the sleepless nights, the reasons overwhelming her. It wasn‘t until fate or rather your idiot bosses took matters into their own hands a few weeks later that things finally took a turn.

You arrived on time as always, which by your standards meant showing up fifteen minutes early as always. You knew Ms. Venable had a meeting scheduled this morning with finances due to a small mishap on their part. She had told you to take care of any incoming phone calls, which you didn‘t mind as you had done it plenty of times. You managed to work at your normal pace, only occasionally some calls with people who needed to speak with your boss directly and so you took notes, neatly leaving them on her desk. Before lunchtime, another call came in, this time your idiot bosses who demanded your attention in their office. You obliged of course, nevertheless not looking forward to whatever they would need from you as they also knew Ms Venable was out of reach and somehow you felt safe around the redhead woman, especially in the presence of those two.

„Ah good to see you“ one of them said before patting one of the chairs beside them. You politely declined, opting to stand before asking what you may assist them with. „You know.. we‘ve been thinking and we both know Venny a while“ they started and you knew they meant Ms Venable by this, only able to imagine what she would do if she heard them adress her like this. „And so it struck us as odd how off she‘s been lately“ he carries on explaining which causes your eyebrows to furrow. „Until we found this“ the other one began laughing hysterically as he held up a note on a lilac piece of paper. You stepped forward, trying to take the note but they wouldn‘t let you.

„I look at you, but words won't come, my heart beats loud, my tongue stays numb. Each smile you give, a fragile thread, I fear the truth is best unsaid“ one of them read while giggling and you took all your bravery, lunging forward and taking the note, wrapping it in your pocket before leaving them to it, giggling and cracking jokes as you leave their office and return to your desk. Now you weren‘t sure if it was really true, considering what pranksters they are but as you open the note again, you instantly recognize the womans handwriting and your heart skips as a beat as you slowly read over the words.

I look at you, but words won't come, my heart beats loud, my tongue stays numb. Each smile you give, a fragile thread, I fear the truth is best unsaid.

What if you see the cracks beneath, the tangled heart, the hidden grief? If all I am should break your gaze, and turn your warmth to colder days?

I wear this mask, too scared to show , the parts of me I hope don't grow. But love like this, it's sharp and real, too wild to hide, too raw to heal.

So here I stay, just out of reach, too scared to fall, too shy to speak. If you saw me as I am inside, would you still love me, or run and hide?

By the end of reaching the poem your eyes were swelling with tears, not for the fact that someone loved you enough to write poetry about you but how she viewed herself. You knew she seemed tough and cold on the outside, trying to protect what‘s hidden inside. You knew she cared about rules and structure only to protect the parts of her that needed those in order to get through her days. You knew she thinks her condition turned her into a monster, someone not worth loving. But you didn’t know she feared turning you cold and bitter and it strucks you then what the woman must have been through in her past to see herself like this, not to speak her truth and to hide her feelings. The sadness overwhelmed you as you tried focusing on your work again, only now understanding why she had sent you away before after you offered her help.

Wilhemina returned moments later, just missing the initial events as she entered the office again. As soon as she did, she could tell something wasn‘t right, you were too focused on your work, barely acknowledging her as she tried to speak to you, your usual warmth and openness replaced by something, she couldn‘t quite name. She brushed it off, assuming it was something personal before following up on the calls and emails she had missed. By the time the afternoon arrived, you still almost remained frozen and she began to worry then. She had asked you again but you still seemed frozen and so she opted to leave you be, walk to the printers herself rather than ordering you to. When she returns, she finds her two bosses lingering by the hallway, some smug smiles plastered on their faces.

„Now Ms Venable, want us to book you both a table tonight?“ one of them muttered with a smug smile on his face. Her eyes rolled as she listened to their rambling again and she simply began to walk away, not in the mood for their pranks and jokes. „Oh come on Venny, don‘t tell us Y/N didn‘t like your little poem“ the other one joked before they began giggling. She stopped in her tracks, her cane banging on the floor once as she realized what they had done. She knew she should have kept that draw locked but again she didn‘t expect those two to go through her personal things. She simply walked away, returning to her desk before calmly opening her bottom drawer, needing to check which poem they had taken and given to you. To her distaste they took the last, possibly most meaningful one. She remained silent as she began typing away on her computer, ignoring your presence as well as her actual work that had piled up on her desk by now.

By the time the evening arrives, everyone having left she still types away, having gone to the printers a few times. By around 10pm, you wrap up for the day, keeping your composure as you approach the woman. „Is there anything I can help you with Ms Venable?“ you ask, trying to keep your nerves at bay feeling horrible for what your bosses had done and how they exposed the vulnerable side of the woman sitting in front of you. „No you can leave“ she acknowledges before she passes you a slim folder. „What is this?“ you ask a little confused as you see some printed job offers from different firms, for similar positions than the one you are already working. „These are job offers from other companies, they pay more and they will certainly value your qualities.“ she begins, not meeting your eyes once as the confusion ripples through you. „I‘m sorry?“ you ask confused, taking a closer look at the contents of the folder.

„I have added a very good reference for you and once you make your decision, I‘ll be happy to assist, I have some connections with most of these companies“ she explains camly, ignoring how this is making you feel nervous by the shacking of your hands and voice. Was she firing you? You remain silent, trying to understand what happened when the poem crosses your mind again. „Are you firing me Ms Venable?“ you ask confused, knowing if she was firing you, she wouldn‘t be handing you a good reference and other, maybe even better job opportunities. She glances at you then, opening her mouth as if to speak but she remains silent as she collects her thoughts. And thats when you see the vulnerability in her eyes, matching the contents of her writing so perfectly and it again made your heart ache, knowing she was only doing this to protect you from herself and her now very obvious feelings for you.

„Ms Venable, if this is about the poem“ you begin but she cuts you off immediately. „They had no business going through my things and you had no business reading it“ she snaps, her walls suddenly back as she tries to fight for her last bit of dignity. „I know Ms Venable and I‘m so sorry but if thats why you want to get rid of me then there is no need“ you reassure. She stares at you almost a bit puzzled before sighing „And what makes you say that?“ her tone a bit snappy and much like the usual Ms Venable. „Because if those two were right and this is about me then I don‘t care Ms Venable, I like working here, I respect this company and I enjoy working with you.. I mean underneath you and… I.. I like you too Ms Venable“ you admit, a desperate attempt not to make her push you away, not in order to keep your job but in order to make her see that you cared about her too, maybe more than you had allowed her to see.

„Please…“ she sighs, rolling her eyes at the patheticness of your statement. „I mean it Ms Venable“ you argue, for the first time in a while meeting her brown eyes and she could see it too then, the honesty, how raw and vulnerable you seem in this moment and that every word seems to come from a place of truth. „I may not agree with all parts of your poem but I don‘t want to lose this job or working beside you“ you repeat and she simply stares at you as she listens to your every word. „I don‘t know you very well outside of work of course but the parts I have seen I have grown very fond of, I like the way you sass everyone and how you aren‘t afraid to deal with people like those two idiots, I like how maticuless and responsible you do this job, how this company would be lost without you. I adore how strict you are and how you care for rules and structure but how you can be soft underneath it, truly kind and caring about others.“ Her nose scrunched at the last statement but you can‘t help but carry on. „I don‘t care about the dark sides or the grief, I don‘t care about your condition or how it may affect you on bad days, I care about your wellbeing Ms Venable and you could never turn me cold or ruin me“ you lay out your feelings before suddenly stopping, realizing you may be oversharing and definitely overstepping.

„I would really like to get to know you better and if that means having to leave this job I will happily do that and if you want me to pretend that none of this ever happened then I will but please don‘t send me away“ you beg with a final statement before reaching for your bag and leaving her be, leaving the office for the night wanting to give her enough space to think this through and also calm down as you poured your entire heart and soul out right in front of her. Neither of you managed to sleep a wink that night, you too scared of the consequences of your confession and Wilhemina trying to fight her walls, knowing she actually had a shot at this but way too stubborn to allow herself to feel those feelings for you.

By the time you get into the office she is already there and you simply greet her before beginning on your work, knowing when the time was right, she would approach you. And it took the entirity of the day, the whole office having left again as you return from the printers and find her looking at you with an expression you are unable to read. „Did you mean what you said last night?“ she asks, her voice more vulnerable, lacking her usual strength and composure. „Every word“ you reassure before she nods and looks away „I know this may be a long shot but may I take you for coffee or dinner at some point?“ you ask, surprised as soon as the words left your mouth at this sudden confidence and apparently the redhead feels the same way as a small smirk appears on her face. „Bold attempt“ she smirks, causing your cheeks to blush slightly. „Is that a yes?“ you ask nervously before she nods, causing your smile to widen.

And so, Wilhemina‘s reasons kept going as she got to know you better, learnt about your love for animals, how enthusiastic you are about charity work, how your favourite colours are yellow and lilac, how you like going on walks and buying flowers and plants to decorate your place in, how you adore books and spent a lot of time at the library or local book stores. How you loved wine and how chatty you would get even after one glass. With each detail about you she found herself falling deeper, loving the way you talk and listening to it for hours on end, how you always included her in a conversation, how you always wanted to find out as much as you can about her. And then a few weeks later there was the time when you met her most loyal companion and that had been her last reason, the way you got so excited, how you crouched to his level, how he immediately warmed up to you, which he wouldn‘t usually do with strangers. She watched in awe as you spoke to him in the most adorable voice ever and as she glanced at you, she knew.

On your next „meeting“ which had been dates all along but the woman was still a little shy and awkward she decided to be brave and as your hands brushed, she took yours in hers and just like she had dreamed it fit perfectly together, almost like the missing puzzle piece. „Y/N?“ she halted and you turned towards her at the sudden seriousness of her voice. „Yes Wilhemina?“ you asked and she looked away before whispering „I think it‘s time you take one of those other jobs now“ she explained and your eyebrows furrowed for a moment before she held onto your hand tighter, closing the gap and using all of her confidence to put whatever she had been feeling into the kiss. You couldn‘t help but smile as you immediately kissed her back, so excited that you wanted to giggle and jump up and down. „I‘ll be sure to quit in the morning“ you smirked before adding „I don‘t know how my boss will feel about that though, she lowkey has a crush on me“ you joke which caused the redhead to chuckle lowly.

And so, ever so slowy and over time, Wilhemina didn‘t simply find many reasons to fall in love for the assistant she never wanted but she also learned to love herself again, to allow herself to be open for love and ignore the demons and voices in her head telling her how unworthy and undeserving she was of those. And you made sure to show her for the rest of your lifetime what the woman meant to you, always holding her hand when days got tough, never treating her like a child or a victim and simply being there for her with whatever she needed as you fell just as hard for the readhead, possibly for a million reasons more.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Anonymous asked: When do you trust yourself instead of writing what you're supposed to? I've reworked my current novel over a dozen times to nudge the structure closer to more standard ones, but it's just not working. It completely unravels until I barely recognize it anymore and gets worse with every attempt. I end up changing it back, until I remember that I'm not even remotely qualified to make that kind of decision, and then the cycle starts all over again. I'm starting to wonder if this story just simply can't exist? Or do I trust myself and write it the way I want to even though it's the wrong? I've been writing long enough to feel ashamed for asking this question, but only short stories and a disaster of a nanowrimo novel, so working on a Real Novel is entirely new and very scary territory. I know there's not technically a right or wrong way to write, but you also have to learn the rules before you break them and since this is my first Real Novel, I haven't shown that I know the rules yet, so I obviously shouldn't break them, right? I'm going absolutely nuts.

[Ask edited for length]

Imagine if you loved to embroider and crochet, then one day you decided to take up knitting, and you decided to start with a really complicated sweater pattern. As you can imagine, that's probably not the best project for your first time knitting, even if you are skilled at other types of needlework.

Writing is no different... when you shift from writing short stories to long fiction, if you're trying to tackle a really ambitious plot, you're going to plot yourself into knots. And that does sound like what may be happening. If it was a simple, straightforward plot--the kind that is friendly for a first-sort-of-second novel writer--it probably wouldn't be unraveling so easily.

So, one thing to consider is whether it might be time to set this story aside for a little while. You're not scrapping it... you're just letting it percolate in the background for a little bit while you hone your novel writing skills on something easier to tackle. And remember, every novel you write doesn't have to be with the intention of publication. In fact, it's quite rare that people publish the first or even second novel they ever wrote. Sometimes, just giving yourself the permission to write something uncomplicated and fun (for you to write), without the pressure of it having to be publishable, makes all the difference in the world. When you can focus on the story and sharpening your skills, your brain suddenly has the bandwidth to actually grow.

And... another possibility is you just do write this story the way you want to write it, not worrying about the "should do this" or "should do that." Just let it be what it wants to be, take the practice you get from it, and move onto something else. Even that doesn't bar you from coming back to it later, when your skills have improved, and doing more with it than you're capable of doing now. Sometimes, the answer is just beyond our reach, but when you give yourself time to grow as a writer, the answers can be as plain as day. ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[itsabouttimex2]

A Brand New Journey:

Part Two

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five) (Part Six)

“…hey, MK.” Pigsy’s voice snaps MK out of his stupor, causing the boy to whip around and face him. Looking for a chance to get out of doing chores, he throws the mop in his hands aside and eagerly heads over to the counter his boss is standing at. “Yeah, Pigsy? Something up?”

The chef wipes his hands on the towel around his waist, freeing them of sweat and grease. Then he snatches up the leatherbound book that you left behind, flipping through the pages.

“Y/N left one of their books behind,” he says, his brows slowly knitting themselves together. “Musta been in a real rush. You mind holding onto it til they come by again?”

“Yeah, sure! Give it here!”

MK grabs his boss’s shoulder with both hands, hauling himself up and over it to snatch the hardback from him. Slipping off of Pigsy without much grace, MK plops himself onto a stool and throws open the pages.

Though he’s eager to start reading it, the delivery boy notably slows down when he sees the precise, neat handwriting within. Several anatomical illustrations are paired with the pages, pointing out the weaknesses; both confirmed and theoretical, of every character in the tome.

“Looks like your friend’s been hard at work, kid. Maybe it’s some kind of school project?”

Flipping a page further, the delivery boy takes note of what you’ve been using to hold you place.

MK holds up your book in confusion, pulling the strange bookmark from between the pages. Holding it between two fingers, he shows it to his boss.

“Whatcha got there, MK? Is that a piece of your bandana?”

“Uh, it’s not mine. It was in Y/N’s book. They’ve got this real dirty… cloth… thing? And I think they’re using it as some kinda nasty bookmark.” MK waves it around erratically, watching the tattered cloth dance like ribbon as he pulls it this way and that.

“Hey- stop fiddling with it, kid! It might be important to Y/N!”

“I don’t think so, Pigsy. It kinda just looks like… I dunno, garbage? Maybe I should replace it for them. I mean, finding something better than this can’t be so hard-“

“Kid, listen- Y/N ain’t a ‘just cause’ sorta person. If they’re using this beaten up old… rag, then it’s probably important to them. Just put it back before the thing tears.”

Conceding Pigsy’s point, MK replaces the tattered red fabric in it’s former position, snapping the heavy tome shut to keep it from falling out.

“Well… I guess I’ve gotta go find a safe place to put this in my room, like… real soon- laterPigsybyeee!”

“What- hey, MK! Get back here! You still have to mop the floors!”

———————————————————————

“This book is absolutely one of kind. I made it myself, actually. Promise me that you’ll take good care of it.”

“Of course I will,” you had quickly declared, taking the weighty novel carefully into both of your hands. “If it’s important to you, then I’ll definitely keep it safe!

“Why would it be important to me? It’s yours to keep. It’s a gift, Y/N.”

A gift. It had been a gift. You would have been beside yourself with worry and shame to know you had left something so precious and heartfelt behind, sitting on the counter for anyone to take if they pleased.

You would be beside yourself right now… if you had noticed.

As it stood, you simply trekked on through the slowly dimming streets, barely noticing how light your backpack was without the book inside.

There was a little bit too much on your mind right now to notice something so inconsequential. You had downed your noodles and rushed out the door the moment you realized that your concealer was flaking away.

It’s not that you didn’t trust MK and Pigsy with seeing your bruises- in all honestly, you worried that they might get the wrong idea and try to intervene in some way.

Before you took to wearing concealer, there had been more than a few concerned strangers that had pulled you aside and offered help, directing you to several sources of aid- and no amount of explanation soothed their worries.

In an attempt prevent drawing any further attention to yourself, you had turned to using makeup, freshly painting over your myriad wounds each morning.

And, speaking of all the bruises that training was leaving on you…

You really need to get back to your mentor.

Actually, now that you think of it… maybe you should bring him something to eat. Sure, you could head back to Pigsy’s Noodles and order some 20% off takeaway… or maybe it’d be good to try something new?

[hiskillingjar]

CBT (Lawrence/OC)

the truth comes out. i, ray hiskillingjar, love to abuse genitals. send tweet.

day 7: CBT second person. law x oc. cw for fauxcest and very brief misgendering kink (maybe) but quickly gets addressed.

"Are you sure you want me to do this?"

Your voice was a low murmur in the heavy silence of the apartment, your dark brows knitted together with a slight frown, your lip sucked between your crooked teeth as you stared down at Lawrence, kneeling at your feet.

"It's gonna hurt...like, really bad.”

Lawrence looked up at you, their light grey eyes wide (and a little more alive than you’re used to) with a mixture of fear and excitement, and something else entirely you couldn't put words to. 

"Yeah, I know…” They said with a hesitant nod, eyes flitting down to their bare chest, their naked body, as if stripped down and ready to sacrifice. “But it'll help too, right?"

"Help with what?" You asked, a disbelieving chuckle in your voice. "You think torturing yourself is gonna feel any better than just hating yourself?"

"No, it’s not about that,” They shook their head, still looking up at you, almost pleading for you to understand something they couldn't find the words to articulate. “It's...not about hating myself, not really. It's...it's more than that. More meaningful. Grounding, reminding myself of…what belongs to me.” 

Their bare thighs spread apart slightly wider, their cock hardening between them as they continued to plead for your understanding.

“You know what I mean?”

Understanding that you would always readily give them.

"Yeah...yeah, I know," You said, the tight chastity cage under your skirt feeling a little tighter, giving them a sympathetic smile. "I know, Law. I'm sorry, I'm just...needing to psyche myself up a little."

Lawrence nodded, also understanding (because they always did, too). 

Deep down, maybe a small part of them was enjoying this, enjoying your slight discomfort at their brutal request, as if testing your loyalty to them. 

You got that sense when their eyes flitted downwards, their gaze lingering on the place between your legs for just the briefest of moments (trying their best not to let the smug, knowing smile, that always came with this sort of experience, play on their lips too much) before settling back on your face.

"You can do it. I know you can."

They pulled a deep breath inwards and then took hold of your hands, clinging onto them tightly, encouraging, waiting.

“I trust you.”

You smiled and shook your head in disbelief (not believing what you were about to do), letting out a soft sigh through your nose as you dragged your thumbs over their bony knuckles, holding them tight.

"Thanks, baby." You nodded. "Thank you for trusting me...it means a lot."

Lawrence couldn't help but let out a soft whine at the obvious term of endearment, which they swallowed back quickly, keeping it at the back of their throat where it wouldn't be so obvious (where they wouldn’t be so vulnerable).

They held your hands tighter, and your smile morphed into a smirk.

"Beg for it." You ordered gently, your tone soft and sweet and sickeningly maternal. 

“Pl-please…” They mumbled with a pleased shudder, idly biting their lower lip as they closed their eyes, waiting. "Do it. I can...I can take it, I promise."

You took in a final sigh through your grit teeth, stroking over their white knuckles one last time...before you brought your foot down firmly between their legs, grinding the heel of your Mary Jane shoe down against the slightly soft, slightly hard length of their cock.

Their breath hitched instantly and a ruined gasp tore its way from their throat as their body lurched forward, their hands clinging to yours even harder. 

Despite their eyes still being closed, tears began to well up beneath their pale eyelashes. 

A few tears of joy, you thought (you hoped), but probably mainly tears of pain,

"You like that?" You murmured, your voice pitched up through a slight sneer (playing the cis girl domme you always saw in porn), letting go of one of their hands to reach up and curl a fist into their hair, pulling their head down against your thigh, against the hem of your skirt. "That feel good?"

“Nnghh…yes. Yes, it feels good." They let out a low groan (deep, so lovely, you loved their natural voice so much), gripping your free hand even tighter. "F-Feels really good, hurts so good...”

A small spot of precum was beading out their slit against the apartment’s floorboards (against the sole of your shoe) and you found yourself smirking even more.

"Oh yeah? You like it when I step on your dumb, fucking cock?" You pulled their hair a little harder, your fist at the base of their skull. "It's so big, Law, so big and useless and stupid," A mean grin came to your face as you pressed more weight against it, listening to them moan in pain. "You can't even get hard most of the time~"

“Nnfhgh…” 

Their legs trembled, their face blushing a deep shade of red as tears finally began to fall from beneath their closed eyes. They tried to speak, tried to find the words to answer you, but struggled to find anything to say.

"What..." You let out a little sigh, trembling a little when you saw the first tear fall from their jaw and down their chest. You were used to tears, but- "What kind of girl has this, hm? What kind of girl has a big, useless cock like you do?"

They squeezed their eyes tighter, now starting to sniffle as they tried to fight through the mixture of shame, pain, and pleasure surely swirling through them.

It was certainly swirling through you, anyway.

"N-no girls do..." They stammered quietly, still clinging to you. "Just me, just me…"

"You don't think so?" You raised a sceptical brow and tightened your grip on their hair. "What about me? Is my cock small enough to be a real girl?"

"N-no, no. Yes. I-I mean...nhh..." They bit their lip and their voice trembled as you tightened your grip on their hair, surely pulling out strands of the coarse blonde now, it was so tight. 

The probable pain (from your hand and under your shoe) was now starting to pull the first stream of tears from their clenched lids, clinging to their lashes and swelling into fat teardrops before falling down their face, their chest, their thighs.  

"You're perfect...you're definitely a real girl, a real woman..." They breathed out, their head sinking down against your thigh and their body squirming to be free. "I'm just...I'm just a sick freak. Not...real..."

Your heart lept at that, your brain on high alert that this was going too far, this was too much, this was too close to home to be fun anymore, but you swallowed down the urge to safeword out of the "scene" (not like the two of you abided by language like that, you weren’t total dorks).

They were enjoying this. 

You knew that much from the way their cock was drooling under the sole of your shoe, and the way they were keening against you, despite their trembles.

But you weren't. At least, you weren't enjoying the degrading way they were speaking about themself.

But you could change that. You were leading things, after all.

"Oh, Law..." You clicked your tongue with soft, sychophantic sympathy, taking off a little (but not all) of the weight from their cock. "Oh baby..." Your firm grip loosened too and you rubbed their sore scalp with your fingers. "You're a real girl. Of course, you are."

Their breath stopped for a moment, as if caught in their lungs. 

They raised their gaze towards you and opened one tear-filled eye ever so slightly, needing to ask you something even through the thick haze of their suffering.

"You...you really think so?" They murmured quietly.

"I know so," You whispered with a gentle smile, grinding your heel down a little more, a reward for them continuing down the route you wanted. "You're whatever you want to be…and I’m here to make sure of that, aren’t I?"

They let out another whine, higher pitched and sweet sounding, a noise that edged close to a moan but caught itself just in time. 

More tears slipped from their eyelashes, leaving small wet tracks down their flushed face. 

It was a lovely visual.

"Thank you...thank you so much..." They let out a low breath, a sigh mixed with a whimper and another moan. "I'm, hhh...a bad girl..."

"Noooo, no no no, you don't get to beat yourself up anymore, baby," You cooed softly, a soft chiding tone as you stroked through their hair again, smiling even more as they leaned into your touch, as if seeking the contradictory comfort as opposed to the crushing pressure. "You're a good girl...doing this, like you should..."

"Y-yeah...I’m a good girl," They quickly corrected themself. "T-Trying to be...I really am..."

"You are such a good girl, Law," You continued to praise, stroking down their tear-streaked face, gently urging their chin upwards and their eyes towards you. "And you're going to be even better...because you're going to let me cage you up, just like Mommy, aren't you?"

They swallowed hard before sniffling, barely able to speak, and nodding as new tears began to fall down their angelic face. 

They were evidently too overcome to speak, overwhelmed by the prospect of the two of you having matching cages (god, all those losers on Twitter would have loved that, you instantly thought), so they focused their attention on you, instead of trying to immediately make words.

You liked that plenty though.

It made you feel powerful, despite what the metaphorical value of your cock-cage key hanging around their neck should have meant. 

You felt worshipped at the way they were kneeling before you, letting themself be kicked around and stood on and pet like a dog in your lap.

Like an animal, something to keep and possess.

“Yeah…I’ll do it." They nodded after a long moment, giving you a trembling smile. "I'd love to do it. I’ll be a good girl for you. I promise.”

Your maternal smile turned into something more genuine (more loving) as you ground your foot down a little harder against their cock, pulling their hair hard, keeping their body pinned against yours.

Sadism to reward their masochism. It felt good, doing it.

“Good girl.”

Their breath caught tightly in their chest and their eyes widened, letting loose another stream of tears with a broken cry.

One hand quickly came up to grasp at your knee through your tights, their pretty face twisting in pain as the heel of your shoe ground down even harder, their hips bucking uselessly against the pressure, trying to wrench themselves free of the pain.

"You take the pain so good, baby," You encouraged, gradually stroking their hair again and taking the weight off their cock. "...Do you need me to stop?"

After a moment, Lawrence gradually gave their head a slow shake, their skinny chest rising and falling as they took slow, deep breaths.

"N-no," They said, sniffling again. "No, I want to keep going. I...I want to be good for you, like you said. I want to be a good girl for you."

You beamed even brighter, before pulling your foot back and slamming it down again.

Another cry came out as a choked, strangled sort of noise, a small hiccup, followed by a few shaky breaths and near-silent sobs. You could see the tears rolling down their face readily now, their gentle features still twisted in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“S-so…so good for you.” They grunted lowly, squeezing your knee a little tighter.

"Yes, so good..." You whispered encouragingly, curling your fingers into their hair again and gently urging their eyes upwards, forcing them to meet your gaze and see just how proud you were of them. "You're making mommy so proud, baby..."

Their expression softened, their features relaxing a little bit and their chest heaving with deep, shaky breaths as a hesitant smile graced their lips.

“Y-yeah?” They said, their voice still tremulous, as their other hand snaked around your thighs and clung to you close, needing, wanting. “I’m really doing good? I’m being your good girl?”

You smile again and lowered your head down, pressing more weight against their cock, before you gently swept strings of blonde hair out of their pretty face and kissed their forehead.

"The best ❤"

[insomniac4000]

99 with Mr Clarkey pls pls pls 🫶🏻

“just- why him?”

George Clarkeey sat on the worn leather couch in his flat, scrolling aimlessly through TikTok, half-listening to his best friend Anna as she rummaged through his kitchen cupboards. Her voice carried a cheerful lilt, contrasting with the gray skies visible through the window.

"You won't believe who asked me out," she said, popping her head around the doorframe, her grin as wide as a Cheshire cat’s.

George looked up, raising an eyebrow. "Who? Someone you met on one of those apps?"

"No, someone we went to school with!" she exclaimed, sliding onto the couch beside him, her excitement contagious.

George frowned, his mind flicking through old classmates. "You’re joking, right? Who would that even be?"

Anna smirked, enjoying the suspense. "Jack Harper," she finally said, her tone filled with giddy excitement.

George froze, his heart sinking like a stone. "Jack Harper? Jack Harper?"

"Yes!" Anna clapped her hands. "He messaged me out of the blue last week, and we’ve been chatting. He asked me to dinner tomorrow!"

George’s stomach churned as memories of Jack Harper came flooding back: the cocky grin, the effortless charm, and the way Jack had always seemed to outshine everyone, including George. Jack had been the golden boy—good at sports, always popular, and annoyingly smug about it.

"Just... why him?" George blurted, unable to mask the bitterness in his voice.

Anna’s smile faltered, her brows knitting together. "What do you mean, 'why him?' He’s sweet, funny, and, honestly, he’s grown up a lot since school."

George scoffed, leaning back into the couch. "Sweet and funny? Jack Harper? The same Jack Harper who made my life a misery and called me gay boy?"

Anna rolled her eyes. "George, that was ages ago. We were kids."

"He hasn’t changed," George muttered, crossing his arms. "He’s still the same arrogant idiot who thinks he’s better than everyone else."

"That’s not fair," Anna countered, her tone sharp now. "You don’t even know him anymore. People grow up, you know."

"Do they?" George shot back. "Or do they just get better at hiding who they really are?"

Anna stared at him, her expression a mixture of confusion and frustration. "Why are you so worked up about this? You barely spoke to him at school."

George hesitated, unsure how to articulate the storm of emotions swirling inside him. It wasn’t just about Jack being a jerk in school. It was about how effortlessly Jack had always seemed to win people over, and now, apparently, he was winning over Anna too.

"I just..." George started, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t trust him. That’s all."

Anna tilted her head, scrutinizing him. "Is that really it, or is there something else?"

George looked away, avoiding her gaze. "What do you mean?"

"You’ve been acting weird ever since I told you," she said softly. "Like... more than just 'protective friend' weird."

George swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. Could he really admit it? Could he tell Anna that the thought of her with Jack Harper made his chest ache in a way he wasn’t ready to confront?

"Look, Anna," he began, his voice quieter now. "I just don’t think he’s good enough for you, alright? You deserve someone who actually values you, not someone who’s... well, him."

Anna’s expression softened, though her eyes still held a hint of skepticism. "I get that you’re worried about me, and I appreciate it. But I need to find these things out for myself. If Jack’s not who I think he is, I’ll handle it."

George nodded stiffly, but the knot in his stomach didn’t loosen. He forced a smile, though it felt hollow. "Yeah, okay. Just... be careful, alright?"

"I will," Anna said, reaching out to squeeze his hand.

As she stood up to leave, George watched her go, the words he hadn’t said hanging heavy in the air.

"Just why him," he muttered under his breath again, this time to no one but himself.

[abyssal-author-and-artist]

My blog is generally pretty lighthearted and I stick to reblogging art and fic and fun stuff, but you know what. I feel like I need to say this.

I am a trans teen in the US. I'm seventeen, so too young to have voted. I'm terrified for my life right now. I usually post about college but I'm actually concurrently enrolled in high school still and the kid who sits behind me in first period government is a massive Trump fanboy. I'm going to have to go to high school Monday and talk about the election. I'm going to have to hear my deadname called and hear people in my super conservative high school talk about how happy they are Trump won. Everything is terrifying. I walk outside of my house and I'm scared I'll be shot. Several months ago I promised that I'd kill myself if that bastard won.

He did and I'm still here.

I'm not thriving. I'm not living my best life. I'm barely living. But I'm surviving. I'm coping. I'm trying my goddamned best. It's hard. I want so bad to just go and take as much medication as I can and slit my wrist for good measure and pass away in my sleep. But I'm still here. And I will be here.

I am in so much pain. But I'm living on spite and determination and everything I can scrape together. I know I need support and those around me need support. So consider this a support masterpost.

Support:

First thing you should see if you're a trans person in the US.

Here's a link to the Trevor Project and here's a link to their suicide hotline page. They've already saved my life once before. Please note - they recommend calling if you need immediate support. Donate if you can, please.

This post is both a suicide hotline masterlist and a post mentioning how something feels deeply wrong here with this election.

On the topic of something being wrong, sign this petition. I'm only seventeen but I did this and it might not feel like much but if we couldn't shoot that bastard (I am not pro-gun but I am when it comes to him) then we'll do the next best thing. Here's the link to the petition itself. Make sure to check the post every once in a while - the original petition got taken down and this is important.

I follow a lot of gimmick blogs, so I got to see this post encouraging us to be loud. Because we should be. Because if we die they've won and my mom didn't smoke weed on the steps of the state capital of Colorado to legalize it just so her son could roll over and die.

Here is the Tumblr Hot Beverage Masterpost, as I've taken to calling it. My personal favorites are the London Fog in the replies, earl grey with milk, honey, and vanilla (in the tags), and some additions from me are hot chocolate with peppermint melted into it, earl grey with lavender, caramel apple tea, and really anything else you can think of. Trust me. This post works better than you think.

Read this post if you haven't seen it already. It's half poem, half Tumblr being Tumblr, all wonderful to read.

Things I just like to see:

PM Seymour and Bettina Levy both have shown their support for everyone struggling right now. It might not be much, but I still really appreciate it and seeing support can really help.

The cat with the kind and reassuring face. No other context.

Four panel comic of hope. Because you're more than enough.

Can't find the post where I found this but this is a link to a virtual toy where you can make your own galaxy.

Please. Eat something. Drink a hot beverage. Draw, write, read, knit, sew, sculpt, bake, do something that helps. Reach out to friends, even if they're online friends. Talk to someone you trust. Make vent art. Write vent fics. It doesn't matter what you do as long as it helps.

Do not roll over and die. Live. Live on spite. Live on determination. Live on shitposts and live on heartfelt stories like this one. If you have anything to add to this post please do. Add more resources. Add more love to this post. I know I'm just a guy on the internet saying shit, but I still care about everyone who sees this post.

[starythewriter]

VINNIE X READER.

HOOKING UP PART 5 FINAL PART! SMUTT.

MINORS DNI. Unprotected sex.

The next morning Vinnie woke you up early, kissing you softly as he brushed away some strands of your hair from your face. “Good morning~” He murmured, grinning softly.

“Morning. Did you sleep well?” You asked, sitting up carefully, stretching. You yawned and stretched again, trying not to wake Vinnie up.He didn't answer your question immediately, as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, kissing you again. "Did I ever…" He murmured. "I'll tell you about it later..." He added, pulling back and kissing you on the lips.

You gazed into each other's eyes for a moment or two before breaking contact. You leaned back on the pillows and smiled, reaching over to stroke his arm. He smiled back, watching you. You looked absolutely stunning, especially when you were wearing his clothes. The white silk shirt draped across your chest, clinging lightly to your breasts as it pooled around you. The hem fell loosely to the floor in front of you and he could see the dark red colour of the panties peeking out from beneath it. He watched you fondly and sighed deeply. God, what would he give to kiss those lips? To taste them and feel the soft skin on his fingertips running up and down your back. His hands moved from your waist slowly upwards towards your naked breasts. He caressed them gently, admiring their beauty. He wondered what it would be like to hold them in his hands, feeling them move beneath his touch. To watch them bounce up and down. To see the way they responded whenever he touched them. He wanted nothing more than to bury his face in the softness of them and inhale your sweet scent.

"What'cha doing?"

You glanced up at him and noticed the dreamy look on his face. He caught you looking and laughed softly. "Sorry... I'm just imagining myself running my hands up and down your beautiful curves."

You blushed and shook your head. “No... it’s okay…” You reached up and rubbed his cheek, smiling slightly. “You can keep thinking about what you’re going to do to me, but please stop. I can barely stand to think about you touching me.”

He smiled and leant forward to kiss you again. His lips were softer than you’d expected them to be. They tasted faintly salty like the sea. “I’ll be gentle.”

“You better be.” You said softly, pressing your lips together.

“I promise, sweetheart. Now, come here~"

You chuckled and stood up, walking over to join him under the covers. He reached out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you over to him so you were lying right next to him. He reached down to brush a stray piece of hair from your face before resting his head on your chest. “You feel incredible.” He said softly.

You laughed quietly. “As do you...” You replied simply before sighing contently. “I haven’t been able to fall asleep since last night. I kept dreaming about you. About how you made me feel..”... "I want you to ride your dick vinnie!" You said suddenly, interrupting Vinnie in the middle of his sentence. He looked up at you curiously. You stared back at him. “Vinnie, I know what you did to me last night and I need you to do it again.”

His eyes widened slightly and you saw his gaze shift down to your swollen lips. You bit your lip and watched him, waiting anxiously for an answer. His face was unreadable. "Are you sure, darling?"

You nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes! Please!”

His expression softened and a mischievous smile appeared on his face. He raised one eyebrow and smirked. “Very well then. But we are going to have to take it slow today, alright? It has been months since our last time and I don’t want to rush things.”

Your eyebrows knitted in confusion as you tilted your head quizzically, looking at him. “Why not?”

“Because you’ve only just realised that I am your lover and I want you to be very careful with your emotions. I’m not taking advantage of you if you get carried away.”

“You wouldn’t do that!” You assured him quickly. “I trust you, Vinnie.”

He let out a deep breath and ran his fingers though your hair soothingly. “I know you do.” He paused for a moment and gave you a sly grin, raising one of his eyebrows in amusement. You narrowed your eyes suspiciously at him.

“What is it?”

“Just remembering something from last night. Do you remember what you said to me after that kiss?”

You thought for a while and frowned in puzzlement. “Uhmm… I think I said something about wanting you to fuck me hard and rough…?” You replied cautiously, tilting your head to the side.

His smirk grew wider. “Well, yes. But I think you also said something else. I can’t remember exactly what it was, but I’m pretty certain you called me your cock boy.”

You gasped softly and your face turned bright pink. Oh God, I really did say that! You looked up nervously at him and saw that his smirk had disappeared completely, replaced by the same serious expression he always wore. “Wai-, Vinnie?”

“What?”

“Ya know I don’t mean it like that!” You exclaimed. “But I mean…. I love you… You’re my boyfriend…”

He rolled his eyes playfully and kissed you. “Of course I know that. But I was wondering if maybe we could go another round. Just you and me. Just like you said last night. Would you be willing to do that for me?” He asked in a low voice.

You felt a lump form in your throat and you swallowed roughly. You couldn’t believe it… He had actually listened to you last night after all! You nodded quickly. "Of course I will." You replied with a wide smile, your cheeks glowing red with excitement.

“Do you want me to get undressed now?” He murmured, looking down at you tenderly.

You nodded eagerly and crawled up onto his lap. He began removing his shirt and you slipped off his pants, helping him to pull them off. Then you slid out of his underwear and began stroking yourself furiously. You moaned softly at the sight of his erection poking out from the opening in his trousers. "Oh my god... I want you so bad..."

“I want you too.” He whispered, staring at you intently as you pulled yourself over his erection. "So badly, baby." He said in between heavy breaths as you took him in your mouth, moving rhythmically against his shaft. You closed your eyes and concentrated on giving Vinnie pleasure. He wrapped his arms around your slender waist and pulled you closer to him, biting his lip softly as you continued licking and sucking him, your tongue swirling around the tip of his shaft teasingly. You lifted your head slowly and looked up at him, grinning mischievously. “Is this good enough for you?” You asked huskily.

He smiled widely at you and nodded. You grinned back and started to bob your head rhythmically. He groaned loudly as you started making quick work of him, alternating between sucking, nibbling and nipping at his length. After a few minutes he stopped moaning and started to pant heavily. He was close. He couldn’t wait any longer. "Darling, come here." He whispered.

You opened your eyes and met his gaze, your lips stretching into a grin as you slid off his lap. You climbed back onto his bed and straddled his hips, pushing his hands off your sides. He gripped your thighs tightly, lifting them slightly so he could sit up and lean forward. He brought his face down to yours, kissing you passionately. He pulled himself up slightly and you let out a quiet moan. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he pressed a hand flat against your stomach as he began moving inside you. You moaned once more and wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close to you.

It felt like hours passed as you rode each other's bodies, grinding against each other desperately, trying to find release. Every now and then he would break the kiss and whisper something obscene or lewd into your ear. The combination of your cries, his groans and the sound of skin slapping against skin was driving you mad. The fact that Vinnie wasn't even wearing a condom added fuel to your desire. You needed him inside you, right now.

You whimpered and arched your back, thrusting your hips upward and rubbing your clit against his erection. He groaned loudly and buried his face in your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. You cried out and dug your nails into his shoulders, gripping him tightly. He moved faster and harder, his movements becoming more frantic. You could feel his body tensing up and you knew he was seconds away from coming.

Then it hit you. All of this was happening too fast. Too much.

Fuck.

You didn’t hesitate for long, letting out a loud scream as you came undone underneath him. You were trembling violently and you collapsed onto the pillow, gasping for air. When your breathing finally settled and your heartbeat slowed, you turned your head to look at Vinnie. He looked back at you and smiled weakly, reaching up to stroke your cheek. “Are you okay?” He asked.

You nodded shakily and smiled back at him. “Yeah. That... That was amazing.

TAGLIST FORM

[gobblinggojo]

♡Family Line: Toya Todoroki♡

♡Family Line: Toya Todoroki♡

♡Warnings: Angst, talk of abuse, spoilers for Toya’s backstory, angst to comfort, enji todoroki♡

♡Summary: He’s finally opening up. About every single thing he had ever been through. Dabi is finally revealing himself to you.♡

♡Please like and reblog! And don’t be afraid to request any other story you wish to see with a My Hero character♡  

“Where do we begin?” His voice echoed in the small bedroom of my apartment, arms wrapped around me, holding me close to his scarred-up form. “How about the beginning, Dabi?” Teal eyes bore into my own e/c eyes. A dark eyebrow raised in question as he spoke, “You don’t want to hear everything. Trust me.” I frowned in response. “I do.” A long sigh left his burnt lips; cold staples grazing against my bare skin as he moved to sit up, back leaning against the headboard of my bed. 

“My old man--he was a man of few words. He never really talked to us a lot; especially after my youngest brother was born.” Dabi’s eyes stared ahead, almost as if he were envisioning the scene right in front of him. “When he did speak to me, I was really young. We used to go on walks together around our home,” he paused, inhaling deeply to calm himself. “He used to train me. I wanted to be a hero--to surpass All-might. Ain’t that crazy?” He looked down at me, a pitiful grin growing on his lips as he spoke. 

“I loved dad. I looked up to him--I wanted to be him.” 

“You don’t have to continue, Dab-” My words were cut off as Dabi shushed me. “I want to--I need to,” and with that I shut my mouth, staring up at my lover with a pitiful look on my face. 

“Thing is, after my little brother was born, Dad could get angry. He’d get angry at that little boy--hitting him and my mother.” A look of pure hatred appeared in Dabi's eyes. “Mom was always crying, taking the punches for my brother, begging my dad to acknowledge his other children--his failures.” Blood fell from Dabi’s face. 

“Thing is--I still loved dad, even when I was deemed a failure because of my quirk,” once more, Dabi took another deep breath, shakily reaching a hand up and rubbing at the blood that fell from his left eye. “I wanted to so badly prove myself--I spent nights crying to my other little brother, wondering why I wasn’t good enough for dad.” It’s so heartbreaking; knowing that a child had gone through something so traumatic, especially at the hands of their parents. 

“I have my dad’s eyes, ya know?” my eyes shot up, gazing into Dabi’s gorgeous gaze. “I look so much like that fucker that I hate looking in a mirror.” More blood was coming down. “Dad sent mom off to a mental ward, and long story short, I got into this accident...” He trailed off, trying to think of a simpler way to explain his situation. “I faked my death--er, my father believed that I was dead.” He groaned, hands pulling away from me and knotting up into his hair. “Fuck--I can’t explain this, Y/n.” 

I sat up beside Dabi, arms wrapping around him and pulling his much larger form into mine. “Just breath, in and out, in and out,” we repeated the breathing process together for a few more minutes before Dabi pulled away. 

“I just don’t get how someone could hurt a little kid, Y/n. I keep trying to run--to hide from everything, but I can’t run or hide from my family line.” Weak sobs left his lips. “He’s always in the spotlight! No one knows about the shit he put my family through!” He cried out, blood continued to pour from his eyes. 

My breath was caught in my throat; my brows knitted together in worry. “Dabi who are you?” My words came out in a hushed whisper, for fear that he would back away—refusing to tell me anymore as to who he was.

Bloodied, teal eyes bore into my e/c eyes. No emotion was on his face; eyes that belonged to his father bore into my soul—searching for something. Slowly, he looked away, mouth straightening in a line. He was in a deep thought, staring at the bedroom wall. “Call me Toya,” his voice sounded throughout the room—hoarse, strained.

Toya..?

“Toya Todoroki.” Everything clicked. Every hint, every look of anger when the flame hero appeared on my TV screen, every single word Dabi had ever spoke to me. “Dad and I—we may share a face, and a last name but we are NOT the same,” he took a breath, pausing as he tried to calm himself down. “I will never be like that monster.” My heart broke for the pain my lover had been through. Carefully, my arms wrapped around his shaking form, bringing him close to me.

“I love you, Toya.”

His head snapped up, staring at me with furrowed brows. He looked like a hurt child—just staring up at me with nothing but pain in his gaze. “If your father loved you—he would never do that to you..Someone who loves you, they would never harm you,” I whispered. His eyebrows fell into a neutral expression—eyes unfocusing as he looked away from me, now staring at the wall in front of us.

“Do you think i can run?”

“Run from what, Toya?”

“Everything—everyone, my family line-“

I bit my lip, looking away as i tried to think my answer out clearly. “No..I don’t think you can,” his head once again shot up, now staring at me with a look of pure confusion. “What do you mean?”

I began to grow nervous, knowing that if i said the wrong this here—Dabi would have a fit. “You can run, but you can’t ever hide from these things, Toya. Remember that, okay?” We both remained silent, staring into each others eyes in a game of predator and prey. Waiting for the other to speak up.

“I love you,” his words brought happiness to my heart; I pulled his shaking form closer to mine, pressing a kiss to his head. “I love you as well.”

He may share a face, he may share a last name—but he will never be Enji Todoroki. Toya Todoroki and Enji Todoroki—they are not the same.

[donaweasley]

His True Form

Okay, so here is another snippet from another WIP because Heaven knows when I would finish the story!!

Read time: ~5 min

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What is your true form?”

Her question was met with silence and with eyes that were trying to answer and question at the same time.

“You’re a frost giant! Of course! That’s your true form. How could I forget!”

Loki cast his eyes down. “Yes, I’m a frost giant,” he agreed with a remorse in his voice, “I’m a monster. That is my true form.”

“Show me.”

“What??!!!” Eyes wide, he wondered if he had heard her properly or had misunderstood her words.

“Show me your true form, Loki. I want to see you.”

“I cannot! I...It is not something you would like to see. Trust me.”

“I trust myself. And I trust you. If you know me, then you must know that I like you for who you are, and not for who I imagine you to be.”

“Well, part of you does like the imaginary me in your head,” he jested.

“I do, yes,” she shook her head, “But...at the core, it’s all about who you are, Loki. I like you regardless of what you have done. Or what you look like. Don’t you see? A change of colour won’t change anything.”

Determined, Loki shook his head, replying more to himself than to her, “No.”

Seeing his stubbornness, she sighed, “I won’t force you. I never will. But...if you trust in what I feel for you...well, I don’t know how to put this. Know that I feel all of that for what’s in here,” she placed a hand over his heart, “and not what’s on here,” and moved the hand to place on his cheek. “Well, some of it is,” She concluded with a laugh.

Loki gave her a sad smile, and looked at her face. He was looking into her.

Less than a second later, a small gasp left her mouth, as his porcelain skin gradually started blending into a shade of blue that could only match that of the western sky at dawn. Her hand slowly drew itself away from his face as it turned cold. The green eyes that were boring into hers morphed into a shade that was richer than vermillion, the colour of life and eternity. The once smooth skin now displayed a million ridges, ones that reminded her of waves of a swelled up sea.

She stared at him shamelessly, unable to believe the spectacle unveiling before her eyes. Under her very roof! She had imagined it, read about it, and now...she was actually witnessing what was no less than a miracle to her.

Loki stood with his eyes glued to her feet, not daring to look at her face, lest any fear etched on it should stab him. He stood there fidgeting with his fingers while the cold breaths coming out of his mouth became more and more erratic.

He was on the verge of spinning on his heels when he heard her. It was barely above a whisper, but he heard it clearly.

“Beautiful!”

His hands stopped their movements. With knitted brows, he looked up at her, unable to believe what he had heard. He was ready to believe that he had broken her but...what was that?

“What?” His own voice had lost its strength.

“You are beautiful!” She managed a little louder this time. “You’re...you’re...I’m sorry, I-I think I lost my words!” Her breaths formed adorable little wisps as she spoke.

“Can you hear yourself? Did I scare you so much that you are blabbering nonsense now?” He almost scoffed.

This snapped her out of her trance. “What? I’m...I..I’m speaking what?”

He did not say anything.

“No, mister,” she spoke confidently, “I’m absolutely aware of what I’m saying. You are,” and her voice dropped back to the enchanted one, “even more gorgeous than what I had imagined. You...” her hand moved up to his face and before she had hardly touched one of his lines, she pulled it away. “I-I’m...I’m sorry.”

“It is alright,” Loki said gently, “You may.”

“Are you sure? It’s...”

He gently wrapped his slender, icy fingers around her wrist, “I am”.

She shivered at the sudden contact. But Loki now knew that it was the cold and not fear that made her react. So, instead of backing away, he slowly pulled her hand up and laid it on his face.

As her fingers gently landed on a ridge, it made her gasp and made him close his eyes. For a moment, he stopped all thoughts, and simply relished in the soft, warm touches that her fingers paved across his cheeks, across his chin, down his neck…

But her path lasted just till there. As if suddenly awakened, she cleared her throat and simultaneously, removed her hand from where his skin got lost inside the collar of his tunic.

“I’m sorry. I...got lost...” She gulped.

“No. It is fine. It is absolutely fine,” he convinced her.

She gave him a nervous smile.

As they were, once again, covered in a comfortable blanket of silence, he noticed goosebumps forming on her arms.

The cold.

In the blink of an eye, he was back into his porcelain skin.

“Wh-What happened?” She wondered aloud. “Was it uncomfortable? I’m sorry if I pushed you too far!”

“It was not,” he gently held her by the arms, “not for me, at least. But I do not want you to catch a cold.” His fingers were comfortably cool now.

She searched his face for an answer to her confusion. Loki simply gestured at her arm with his eyes. And she realised.

Oh!

She quickly rubbed her arms in an attempt to make them go away. Not because she was uncomfortable. But because she thought that Loki might be.

He probably guessed it, having known her pretty well by now. Especially now, when he knew what she really felt for him. 

“It does not bother me,” he said with a smile, “unless it bothers you. I am sure goosebumps are never pleasurable.”

“Not if they are a result of something pleasurable,” her natural tendency to make quirky remarks slipped out before she could gauge the situation.

Shit!

When her face turned crimson, Loki took the opportunity to regain his charm that was momentarily buried under a wave of emotions. He tilted his head with a smirk, and took a few steps towards her, enough to eventually back her up against the desk.

He leaned in, his breath - now warm again - fanning over her ear, and spoke in a gravelly voice, “I was only teasing you.” Leaning back, he took her hand and brought it to his lips, “Good night, darling!”

Before her flustered brain could resume proper function, the air mingled with a soft green glow, and somewhere amidst it, a smirking Loki disappeared from view.

“Rascal,” she huffed. But her frustration was quickly taken over by a wide grin and a ferocious blush.

***

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