#It would fill me with rage but I would love to be a fly on the wall pre-Dreadlord crisis with this family

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Doctor, Doctor

Family is More Than Blood Masterlist

Summary: The tide is pulling you in and you are getting to weak to stop it.

Warnings: bad mental health, implied suicidal thoughts, implied past abuse, therapy, Sam is a good guy, non-sexual nudity.

Relationships: Carol x Reader, Yelena x Natasha x reader (platonic)

Word Count: 3.6k

The pacing was the only thing keeping you grounded. So you paced: 5 steps in one direction, then five steps in the other. Everything around you turned to white noise. Not that there were many people in the Avenger’s compound. The world seemed to be holding on by a thread as fires spread across the globe. The only people that could put out those fires were the Avengers. The team was spread worldwide, and since you weren’t part of the team, you couldn’t know the specifics. You had half the mind to hack into FRIDAY to get updated everyone. With the stress of not knowing how the team was doing, combined with the sleepless nights due to nightmares, you were on edge.

It seemed your mind and body had enough. You were at your wit’s end. Each night, your mind creates horrific scenarios of those you love. Your hands were covered with so much blood. Your mind was having a hard time separating your nightmare and reality.

Usually, you would ignore it, push through, and hope your mind would figure itself out. That was past you, and you were trying to be better. You wanted to enjoy the life you were living with the people in it, but you weren’t sure if you could do it on your own.

But admitting you needed help was a weakness, and a weakness meant death. Honestly, you were proud of yourself. The person you were now was leaps and bounds from who you were in the Red Room. Still, these habits were hard to break. His voice was still engraved in your head. “Hey,” you jumped at the sudden voice and the hand on your shoulder. You put your hands up, ready to fight. “Sorry,” it was Sam. “I didn’t mean to scare you. You seemed lost in your own head.”

“Yeah,” you put your hands down. “Sorry, I haven’t been sleeping well.” His eyes scanned you over.

“Do you want to get out of the compound?”

“Please,” you said. If you weren’t so desperate for a distraction, you would have hated how weak you sounded. Sam smiled, and you followed him to the garage. The silence was comforting. Sam was special. His presence was calming, like a lifeboat in a raging storm at sea.

As he drove away from the compound past the small nearby town, he turned down a nonpaved road. You raised a questioning eyebrow. “Are you taking me out here to kill me?” The man rolled his eyes.

“Please, like I could kill you,” he teased, sparing you a glance before focusing back on the road. “And if I managed to kill you. Natasha, Yelena, Alexei, Carol, and Melina would be on my ass. Nooo, thank you,” he paused. “I would never know peace.” You rolled your eyes.

Finally, he parked in a small lot. There was only one other car. You followed him out of the car and took a deep breath in. The air was crisp. It felt cleaner somehow. “Ready for a hike?”

“Are you going to be able to keep up?” The man glared at you.

“I don’t know why I try to be nice to you, Black Widows.” You chuckled.

“Come on, Sam,” you smiled. “I’m following your lead.” You followed him to the start of the trail. He filled the silence with stories from his childhood and his family in New Orleans. But most of the walk was spent in silence besides the crunch of the leaves and sticks at your feet. With each step you took, the weight on your shoulder seemed to disappear.

You smiled at the couple who walked past you on their way to the car. Soon enough, you reached the end of the trail and at the top of the mountain. The scenery around you felt otherworldly. The air was crisp and cool. In one direction, you could see the other mountains part of the range surrounded by green trees.

It was mid-afternoon, and the sky was a vast and brilliant blue. Birds were flying at your level. There was a beauty at the top that you forgot existed in this world. “So,” you looked at Sam. “Wanna talk about why you were pacing a hole in the ground?” You smiled and sat down on a rock.

“I don’t know, Sam,” you said. Some days, I feel like I have it together, like there isn’t this crushing weight, but recently, I feel like I can barely hold my head above the water. " You picked up a stone and threw it up and down. The tide keeps trying to drag me under, and I’m afraid. " You let the stone drop back to the ground. I might stop fighting so it can take me out to sea.”

There were so many dark thoughts that echoed inside your mind. On certain days, listening to those thoughts seemed easier than fighting them. “And I know,” you continued before Sam could speak. “That I have so many people on my side that support me and count on me, but I am so fucking tired,” you squeezed your eyes shut. “I just want it all to stop.” You admitted. “I mean, the world will keep spinning, right? Even if I’m no longer in it.”

You heard the man let out a low hiss. You weren’t suicidal, but it seemed easier. “Ours would stop,” Sam finally said. “Our world would stop spinning.” You reopened your eyes to see Sam walking towards the edge. “Have you ever been sky diving?” He looked over his shoulder as you shook your head. “I should take you,” he looked back at the view. “It is the most freeing and adrenaline-pumping thing a person could do. I love it.”

You stood up slowly and walked to stand next to the man. “I’ve been on a roller coaster, does that count?” He slapped you playfully. “Why did you ask me that?”

“In sky diving or even for us Fly Boys on the team, you have to have complete trust in the people that you don’t necessarily see,” you frowned, a little confused. You have to trust the pilot, trust the instructor leading the pilot, and trust the people who packed your gear that they did it correctly. Blind trust is terrifying,” he said and touched your shoulder.

Trust. So much of your trust has been broken. “Do you trust me?” He asked.

“Yes,” you answered. The man smiled.

“Then trust me when I say this,” he took a few deep breaths. “I think you need to see a therapist, and I can find you a good one.”

“No,” you pushed his hand off your shoulder and headed back down the trail.

“Wait, ugh, hold on,” you heard him quicken his pace to catch up to you. “Look, I can’t imagine what that sick bastard put you and your sisters through, but I’ve lost someone because they couldn’t fight the tide. I will not stand by and watch it happen to you,” His confession stopped you and turned around to face him. “An old service buddy of mine,” he answered the question before you asked. “The weight of what happened over there got too much, and he let himself drown.” He took a few steps closer to you. “My mama said every soul that touches us leaves a mark - some as gentle whispers or bold strokes - but their imprints remain even when they’re gone. You’ve shaped our lives by being in it, and there is no going back.” You felt your chest tighten. Sighing, you placed your hands on your hips and looked at the ground.

“I trust you to find me a good one, Samuel,” the man laughed and put his arm around your shoulder.

“If I find you a good one, can I push you out of a plane?”

*

It was to disguise your trip to the city to check on a few Widows who had recently been exposed to the red dust. You felt bad about telling a white lie, so you visited a few of them; one was going to school, and another was starting a business. It made you happy that they were getting out of this life.

Now, you were sitting in Dr. Sabrina Hale’s lobby. Your leg was shaking, and you were gripping your jeans. You felt like you were going to be sick. Anxiety swirled in your stomach. Like Sam, you needed to believe in the blind trust of this stranger. “Hi,” you looked at the doctor. The woman was pite - her black hair was cut shoulder length, and her blue eyes seemed to have a caring presence. “My name is Sabrina. It is nice to meet a friend of Sam’s.” You introduced yourself and shook her hand. “Please come in.” You followed her into the office.

Her office was much bigger than you expected. It had a large window overlooking the city, and her wooden desk was in front of it. Next to it was a couch with a chair. In the corner, there was a small table with chairs covered with coloring pages and art supplies. The most striking detail about her office was how decorated it was. There were plants in every corner and pictures on the wall documenting her travels and her family.

“Sit where you are comfortable,” you sat on the couch. “Do you want something to drink?”

“No, thank you,” she grabbed a travel mug from her desk and sat in the chair beside you.

“I will start off this session by saying that everything you say here is protected by doctor-patient confidentiality,” she said, crossing her left leg over her right.

“And if I don’t say anything?” Sabrina shrugged.

“Then we stare at each other for an hour in silence. Regardless, I still get paid,” you let out a dry laugh and stared out her window. “Sam told me you work with the Avengers, so I can guess whatever is haunting you isn’t pretty,” you scuffed, folded your hands, and rested your forearms on your thighs. “I tell my patients that you get out of therapy based on what you put into it. You need to want to be here. You want to get better.” Sighing, you stared at her.

She had a small smile on her face. Her eyes were so kind; they seemed to stare into your soul. “Do have any siblings? I have an older brother and a younger sister.” She was the middle child, and that made sense. Middle children were known to struggle with a sense of identity. Every piece of decoration showed you a piece of who Sabrina is. They also were known to rebel - her nose ring and sleeve of tattoos gave her away. But you snapped out of that. Sabrina was here to help you. She was not your target.

“Yeah, I have two younger sisters,” you smiled. “We aren’t related by blood.”

“Family is family,” she said. “Blood doesn’t matter.” You nodded and felt better that she had the same viewpoint as you. “Who annoys you the most?”

“Excuse me?” You were shocked by the question. Sabrina laughed.

“Come on. You are the older sister; your younger siblings must annoy you.” You chuckled and leaned back on the couch. She was right. It got on your nerves when Natasha left her pointee shoes lying around. Yelena had the annoying habit of putting her dirty laundry with yours so you would do it. You smiled again.

“They both do things that get on my nerves, but I love them.”

“I love mine too,” she said. “We got these tattoos together.” She turned her arm over to show you the artwork forever marked on her skin. It was like the work of three birds on a branch.

“Did it hurt?” You questioned. “The sleeve, I mean.” She watched as you looked over your sleeve.

“The first one did,” she answered. “After so many, you get numb to the pain.” Her blue eyes were watching you closely. Missing how your body tensed at the comment was not hard for her. “Are you numb to it all? After everything you’ve been through.”

You were unsure how to answer because you weren’t numb. You felt everything. Every hand that hurt you. Every bullet and knife slash that pierced your skin. That was why you wanted it all to stop. You shook your head. “I feel it all,” you whispered. “I wish I was numb to it all.”

“It’s good that you are feeling,” she told you. It means you can still be pulled back. You can be saved. The question is,” You watched her stand up and walk over to the mini-fridge. She grabbed out a small water bottle and walked back to you. “Do you want to be saved?” she asked while handing you the bottle.

She was extending an olive branch, waiting for you to take the first step—blind trust. Like sky diving, you needed to trust that everyone did their job to ensure you would survive. You wanted to be saved because there was so much life you wanted to see. You took the water bottle. Sabrina smiled and sat back down. “Good, the ball is in your court,” she said. “Lead me in whatever direction you want.”

*

“I’m going for a run,” you said while you entered the common area. Yelena watched you grab water from the fridge. “I’ll be back.”

“Do you want a running partner?” Natasha asked, but you quickly shook your head.

“It will be quick,” you smiled. “Figure out what you guys want to do for dinner.” You called out before putting on your headphones and left out the side door. Yelena frowned as you left. Twice a week, you leave the compound and go on a run. You went alone every time, no matter who asked you to join. Natasha walked over to the window, and Yelena got up from the couch to join her.

“She’s hiding something,” Natasha said. Yelena nodded in agreement.

“Do you think she’s cheating on Carol?”

“God no,” Natasha shot that idea down. “I just wish she trusted enough not to have to hide.” There was no way to hide the hurt in Natasha’s voice.

“She’ll come around,” Yelena smiled. “She always does.”

*

“Still hiding away, I see,” you rolled your eyes. You were video chatting with Sabrina for your weekly season. Your back rested on the tree trunk while you sat on the forest floor. There was a thin layer of sweat on your forehead from your run. “Why don’t you trust them with this?”

“I do trust them,” you defended. “I just-” you trailed off. It was one of the annoying things about Sabrina. She was patient - too patient for your fucked up mind. “I don’t want to seem weak.”

“Admitting you need someone to help you through your mind does not make you weak,” she told you. “I think it makes a person very strong.” You sighed and looked past your phone to the wilderness around you. “Trust is a thread that holds relationships together,” you looked back at Sabrina. The doctor was drawing in her sketchbook. It was something she always did during your sessions. You never asked what she was drawing, and she never showed it to you. She put the sketchbook down when she saw that you were looking at her. “When it frays, even those who care the most are left powerless to help. Doubting those who care for you builds walls, not of protection, and in the end, loneliness becomes your only certainty.”

“What are you getting at Hall?” You asked. The doctor was spinning a pencil in her hand.

“You are at a standstill,” she said. “You will not continue to heal unless you trust them with this side of you. But also trust yourself.”

“I do trust myself,” she looked at you like she did not believe you. The only way to survive in this world was to trust yourself.

“To an extent, yes, you had to trust yourself because who else would you trust? But I want you to trust yourself to be vulnerable and to feel weakness. You do not have to be the strong one all the time.”

*

Natasha’s door was open when you knocked on it. Yelena was on her bed while they were sharpening some of their knives. “Are you going to throw one of those at me?”

“Do you deserve to have a knife thrown at you?” Natasha questioned. You shrugged.

“Depends on who you ask,” you smiled and walked into her room. You found some space on her bed and sat down. Yelena handed you a knife and a sharpening tool.

The repetitive action of sharpening a blade was calming. It was nice to spend time with them. “Do you have something on your mind, sestra?” Yelena asked. You smiled and looked over the knife. Flipping it over, you stared at your reflection.

“Sam helped me find a therapist,” you decided to rip off the band-aid. “I’ve been seeing her for a few weeks now.”

“That’s great,” Yelena said. “I’m so proud of you.” You looked down, embarrassed by the praise.

“Why did you wait this long to tell us?” Natasha asked. You sighed and, when you were done, handed the knife to Yelena.

“Million-dollar question, right?” Natasha chuckled. “I guess I didn’t want to seem weak to you guys. Hell, not even Carol knows.” You picked up another knife to begin the process again. “I trust the two of you with my life,” you began. “But I’ve learned that I don’t trust myself to be vulnerable or weak. If I’m not the strong one, then what is my role? What is my purpose.” Natasha took your hand to stop you from sharpening the knife.

“You just have to be our sister,” she said. “That’s all we want.” You smiled.

“Sometimes I wish life was kinder to us,” you admitted. “We were far too young to be subjected to the darkness.”

“We got each other out of it,” Yelena smiled.

“The best thing to come out of the Red Room,” you joked.

*

You stayed awake until Carol returned from space. “Jesus,” she jumped when she opened the door to her room. “You scared the shit out of me.” You giggled and stood up from her bed.

“Sorry,” you smiled and closed the distance. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, consider me surprised,” she said, wrapping one arm around your waist while closing the door with the other. She pulled you flushed to her chest. “Hi baby,” you felt the words rumble from her chest. I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” you kissed her cheek. “How was space?”

“Good,” she sighed. “Tiring, but I kicked ass and looked good while doing it.” You shook your head with a laugh.

“You always look good,” she covered her mouth as she yawned. “Come on, my captain, let’s get you to bed.” Carol shook her head.

“Shower with me first, then bed,” she kissed you softly. “I promise to behave.”

That was hard to believe, but you followed her to the bathroom. This type of intimacy and trust was new to you. Showering with someone was never slow and sweet. It was usually against your will, dirty, and fast. Carol taught you differently.

You helped Carol out of her tactical suit and kissed the new bruises that decorated her skin. While the water was warming up, she helped you out of your sleeping clothes. You stood in front of her—naked like the day you were born. It took time for you to be like this with her. The dark thoughts that invaded your mind and the scars that covered your skin made you believe you were undeserving of this soft trust.

You helped Carol out of her tactical suit and kissed the new bruises that decorated her skin. While the water was warming up, she helped you out of your sleeping clothes. You stood in front of her - naked like the day you were born. It took time for you to be like this with her. The dark thoughts that invaded your mind and the scars that covered your skin made you believe you were undeserving of this soft trust.

“Krasivyy (beautiful),” Carol mumbled. The words she knew in Russian were few, but she knew the ones that made you smile.

“No funny business,” you warned, pulling the Avenger into the water. She insisted on washing your hair first. The way her fingers massaged into your scalp made your body feel boneless. Once your hair and body were clean, you returned to the favor.

Carol hummed. “You have magic fingers, baby girl.” You chuckled and kissed her shoulder.

Once the soap washed off Carol’s body, you turned off the water and dried yourself off. You took some of Carol’s clothes to change into and climbed into bed. Instantly, Carol pulled you into her arms. Like with your sisters, you decided to rip the band-aid off. “I’m seeing a therapist,” you said. Sam found me one based in the city.” She put her finger underneath your chin and forced you to look at her.

“Do you like her?” You nodded. You liked Sabrina. She was annoying and got underneath your skin, but she forced you to face the hard parts of your psyche. “Proud of you, baby,” she kissed your forehead and hugged you tighter. Her fingers ran through your hair, bringing you closer and closer to sleep.

Carol was proud of you, as were Natasha and Yelena. It felt good to hear. “I love you,” you mumbled against Carol’s chest. The tide was all-consuming. You felt breathless and weak, but you were working on fighting the waves. You were proud of yourself, too.

[bedtimegiraffe]

Here's my little essay about King Arlan (and a little bit about Baldur) and their complicated relationship with ruling effectively.

Arlan, the (overall) very good king

King Arlan is keeping the kingdom running well

In the very first lore tablet, you learn that, "King Arlan Valleros VII currently sits on the throne. Known as the Gentle King, Arlan has reigned over a period of great peace and prosperity."

Periods of great peace and prosperity are not easy! It's a combination of luck, delegating effectively, and putting in a ton of administrative work to make sure the laws and policies work for the unique situation your nation is in at this moment. That stuff does not happen on accident.

Based on Aerin's statements that he never really saw his father, I'm assuming Arlan keeps busy with actually running the country. We never see Arlan show interest in hunting or any vices that would take similar amounts of time. I also don't get the sense that Arlan and Baldur are always like, hanging out. And we don't interact with many administrators, making him seem pretty hands-on.

King Arlan knows how to maintain an image

When you return from the Shadow Realm...

King Arlan is very savvy. Maybe he's sincere, who knows! But publicly honoring the heroes who saved your ass is a great way to get goodwill for yourself and make it so you no longer owe those heroes. Your party puts in quite a lot of work to save Morella and King Arlan just lets you take some weapons and armor no one was using anyway. Doesn't even send a single guard to help. Unlike Book 2...

Before the battle he does a great job making it seem like he's doing you a favor. Like you asked for his help and he's magnanimously granting it, even though the Ash Empire is very much coming to destroy his capital!

Which brings us to his take on Aerin being gone (assuming he was imprisoned previously)...

This is an awful thing to say about your son! But it's actually a pretty cunning move as a king. Arlan was absolutely right- his best move was to let Aerin go and hope he got killed. He gets to eliminate a problem making him look bad to the court (his son who committed murder and treason in a very public manner) and keep his reputation as a nice guy. He's the 'Gentle King,' not the 'Strong King' or 'Decisive King.'

And in the very unlikely (in his estimation) chance Aerin did come back alive and looking heroic, Arlan could keep him imprisoned indefinitely. Or (much less likely) he could say Aerin was corrupted before and use his success as an excuse to get one of his kids back in the line of succession. That's good for your ego and can help prevent a succession crisis if there isn't a super clear heir in place (which seems to be the case currently).

Overall, (and completely separate from him being a horrendous father) it seems to be like Arlan is actually a very good king. But there is one part of the job he sucks at...

Arlan's fatal flaw is that he is terrible at reading people.

'Baldur's great, no concerns!'

Obviously, we know that thinking that Baldur is going to be a good king is stupid.

But why didn't King Arlan know that? Aerin (who does seem to be pretty good at reading people) says he's, "handsome, bold, outgoing." Those things are all great for winning people over!

But not nearly enough to actually run a country. We know Baldur's not really even trying to have any of the practical, administrative skills that requires. And this system does not seem set up to function with a figurehead.

You know that tutor must have clocked that Baldur was asleep! It was probably common knowledge at the palace that Baldur never learned a damn thing. Either Arlan didn't realize his heir was not gaining any practical ruling skills (bad sign) or he didn't care (also a bad sign).

Even monarchs who aren't invested in their kids as people are usually very invested in their education. Because that's how you make sure the wheels don't fall off once you die, ending your glorious bloodline.

Aerin tells us that Baldur would never contradict their father. So Arlan absolutely could have forced him to read a damn book. But for some reason, he didn't.

'My second son sucks...

Arlan truly thinks that Aerin is useless. Which is a wild stance to take after you watched him kill big strong Baldur in a single blow and open a portal to the Shadow Realm.

Arlan got there a little late for Aerin's full villain monologue. But the second your party disappears through the portal, the smart thing would have been to determine if Aerin did any more damage. It didn't feel like it to Aerin, but he had tremendous access to people and resources. For all King Arlan knows, this could have been just one piece of a bigger plot.

And it was! Aerin admitted to corrupting dozens of people, usually very connected people. That's a ticking time bomb just waiting to cause more damage. One it doesn't seem like King Arlan ever looks into.

Arlan seems to just assume that Aerin can't cause damage because he's... not physically imposing? Because knowledge and connections are never a threat to power?

Pre-crisis, Aerin also talks about trying to smooth over Baldur's brash decisions. Having someone to soften the blow of harsh or unpopular decisions is absolutely crucial for any ruler, but especially one like Baldur. Yet Arlan doesn't seem to have any awareness of that either.

So Arlan at least picked up some vibes from Aerin that he was... something. Troubled could be 'miserable,' but this statement makes it feel more 'he creeps me out.'

-and I'm not worried about that.'

Even if Aerin was incompetent or messed up, King Arlan should have been concerned about that! Baldur is very strong and presumably good at not dying. But he throws himself into dangerous situations all the time for fun! There is a very good reason most monarchs don't stop at one kid if they can help it.

History is absolutely littered with examples of people who inherited a throne and ran things into the ground because they didn't have the ability to manage the amount of power they had effectively. If Arlan thought Aerin could fall into that category, he should have had people working around the clock to get him up to standard just in case.

Instead, King Arlan fully ignored Aerin, letting him just haunt the archives like a depressed ghost.

'The Heroes of Morella obviously agree with me, they're important!'

King Arlan makes the assumption, based on your party's status, that you'll agree with him on the 'complicated politics' of executing your own kid. Because you're not 'commoners.' Your party includes one elven noble, one orcish (until like 2 days ago) princess, and one human with a very prominent position in the Temple. Mal is more under the radar, but he was still proclaimed a hero. And your character is the most Hero of all.

So Arlan basically does that thing some people do where they trash talk a marginalized group, because everyone in the room looks like they belong to the majority group, so why would they object? (Never a good look.)

But Mal and Nia are both, at least to you, visibly angry with Arlan for being excited his son is (presumably) dead.

Still, no effort to backtrack or soften the blow from King Arlan. Just sails right over the dude's head that Mal looks pissed and Nia is using her damn customer service voice.

Seriously, King Arlan should probably keep an eye out for Mal... Not a big monarchist, that one.

Bonus Baldur, the tremendous idiot

The fact that Baldur thinks he's the first of his name, when "Baldur Valleros" literally founded his dynasty, is incredibly funny to me. Such ignorance. Such hubris.

I am not about to give him the benefit of the doubt that maybe Baldur I went straight to being king, so our dumbass is the first "Prince Baldur Valleros." His father is Arlan VII, there's no way no other king has named their heir after the founder of the dynasty. More evidence that he has never once learned a thing.

(Don't worry about Kade- he took a shadow lance to the face but he's fine. He's mostly fine. Feel free to look at my older posts if you're curious how that went down.)

Baldur seems to make the same assumptions about people based on their status as his father. I don't think it's an accident that when Baldur wants to tell gross stories (including the phrase "slum girls"), he immediately grabs Mal, the human man. Mal isn't all that subtle about his disdain for the nobility, but he still looks like the best one for Baldur to win over. Mal is also the one who steps up and negotiates for the group, making him look like the leader- even more Baldur catnip.

[james-spooky]

this is a test

[foldingfittedsheets]

I’ve been fired exactly once in my life. In my early twenties I was working at a pizza place. The pizzas were artisanal, thin crust and personal. They’re a huge chain now but when I first started the company was in its infancy. It was the wild west of management, and the core investors would frequently stop by to check on things. One of these people was this round little man with rage issues. A knock off Danny Devito with no charisma at all.

His favorite thing to do was to come in on a Friday or Saturday night. We'd be at our stations: taking orders, making pizza, manning the oven, finishing orders off, running the cash register. He'd shove his way onto the line and start rearranging people. "You, get off orders and work the cash register, you come over and make the pizzas!" With a line of customers snaking out the door he'd throw off all our grooves and rattle us.

Then, inevitably, a mistake would happen.

When it did he'd call the person over and say, "Hey c'mere. You're fired." Just like that. No inflection, just a flat "You're fired." It was absolutely a power kink, and because of his involvement the average turn over was three months. You were a veteran at five months.

One night there was only three of us manning the front. I took an order than went to the cash register to ring them out before I made the pizza. This horrible man watched that then called me into the back. I didn't know if I was about to be fired. But I wasn't. In fact, he had one other move besides firing people. He yelled.

In the back he absolutely lost his mind screaming at me for being on the cash register. I'm talking veins popping, spit flying, red with rage, this man just started bellowing nonsensically about where I should be and how I was just such a failure. It was truly like his brain had shut off, nothing he was saying even made sense. I stood there in the face of this tirade for a minute and then set a record for being the first person to ever cut him short by bursting into tears.

He instantly stopped yelling and it was like Jekyll and Hyde. He was remorseful and consoling, deeply embarrassed by my display of emotion. All my male coworkers just took the abuse but faced with my weeping he about faced and instantly backed off. I went outside to cry and when I came back in he pretended it had never happened.

That was the state of things. The investors knew they desperately needed to keep this man out of the stores, but they couldn't just give him the boot. They needed to move him aside and fill his position with someone. The store manager was this lovely woman who had hired me on the spot at my interview. The entire staff adored her. She was the best fit to get this roided out investor out of the stores for good.

Her replacement was this man called Anthony. He was instantly loathed by the entire staff. Condescending, critical, and lazy he started off his reign by letting go a core lead who "back talked." He spent a whole morning berating the opening crew because the closing crew (who had sold 100 more pizzas than we were even supposed to have on hand) had forgotten to windex the doors. He left the entire crew to close without him while he flirted with a girl who wasn't his pregnant girlfriend. He hired his roommate to replace the lead he fired and even that guy hated his guts.

Our antipathy toward him made him paranoid and resentful and one by one he started finding excuses to fire the whole staff, certain that if he could clean house he'd be able to do the job. My time came, and he sat me down with his boss, my former manager. She cried as he announced I wasn't personable enough and used too many pepperonis.

I looked at her, the woman who had trained me on how many pepperoni to use, but she said nothing. What could she say? He was the boss now and had determined I was going to be let go regardless. Too many in this case was seven. Seven pepperonis on a personal pizza. The correct number was five according to him, which is one pepperoni per slice, and one in the middle.

I sat there for a moment, taking it in. I smiled at my old manager, obviously miserable. I looked back at him and said, "You're a terrible manager, you're doing the worst imaginable job." I outlined some of the things he'd done so she could hear them, then I stood up and left. I made it to the back room before I started crying.

I found out later through a bus boy that he replaced the whole staff with college kids who had such limited availability that the store couldn't run, then quit three months later leaving the whole place in shambles. Most of the old staff returned, but I'd moved onto the sex shop already and was enjoying a job with significantly less risk of being fired on a whim.

However I do have to disclose on job applications if I've ever been fired. I always says yes and list the reason as, "Excessive use of pepperoni." It has never failed to get a laugh from my interviewer.

[strangelittlestories]

It is a little known fact that angels cannot step foot in hell.

Note: this does not mean that angels *don’t* enter the burning depths, only that they cannot touch the floor. You see, the fires that rage below are not regular fire. They do not consume fuel and oxygen and spit out heat. Instead, they chew on reality and drink down order, and the flames that lick up at you are made of chaos-filled void.

This is antithetical to the very substance of angels. If it touches them, at *best* the angels will be spat out as they are forcibly reminded that *they don’t go here*.

At medium, they will be unmade.

At worst, they will be *changed*.

You might think they could avoid this by simply flying through the pit, right? Oh, would that it were so simple. Remember the flames that burn up reality? Hell is an alchemical reaction of exploding space and logic and time and souls. You try flying through a place that is not a place, where up and down can hardly agree on which is which for more than an instant.

But there is a way around this. It was originally discovered by the guardian angel Cambiel. You see, under Cambiel’s protection was a woman named Ruth. Ruth was a shining light who Cambiel cared for greatly.

Ruth, in turn, had a woman she cared for very much. And, sadly, a demon had stolen Ruth’s love away from her.

“Do not follow her,” warned Cambiel, “for if you follow your heart through the gates of perdition, I cannot go with you.”

“Sorry, babe,” replied Ruth, “but I am *very* gay and *very* romantic and that has made me reckless.”

And Cambiel nodded sadly, for all of this was true and good.

But as Ruth walked the lonely, tortured path into the underworld, an idea occurred to Cambiel.

Sure, they couldn’t walk or fly into hell, but maybe they could *ride* there.

Now, a fully grown horse could not hope to navigate the depths beneath the world, for their sense of self-preservation was too strong. An adult horse would flee from the screams of imploding souls and the winding geometry of impossibly winding roads.

But a young horse? With a child’s innocence, with bright young eyes, who had not yet been tricked into believing in its mortality?

That was a mount that could bear an angel (who was, after all, light enough to dance on the head of a pin) into the fearful caverns of the beyond. Honestly, the little horse seemed weirdly enthused about the whole thing. 

And so did Cambiel guide a pair of reckless and romantic (and useless) lesbians out of hell.

When the pair thanked the angel, all they said was this:

“Don’t thank me, thank the little horse. It turns out … foals rush in where angels fear to tread.”

[obsessivevoidkitten]

How The Elf Saved Christmas

Yandere Rudolph The Red-Nosed Deertaur x Gender Neutral Elf Reader CW: Painful Noncon, nonhuman genitalia, size difference, possessive behavior, possessive sex, jealous behavior, general yandere behavior, rut cycle, reader fucked big stupid, overstimulation, cum as lube, mention of musk Word Count: 1.3k (This is your Christmas gift from me, I hope you enjoy it <3)

It was one of the earliest years since the start of the Christmas holiday. Rudolph had just recently joined the other deertaurs that drew Santa's sleigh. Not only did he have the magic ability to fly like the others, but he also could produce a fog and snow dispelling light from his nose. He was perfect to lead the sleigh.

Well... almost perfect.

A week into December, he started acting out. Behaving aggressively towards the other deertaurs, secluding himself, and acting unusually possessive over the elf who had been assigned as his servant.

That was you. You brought him his meals and made sure he was comfortable. Normally Rudolph was very low maintenance and your job was exceedingly easy. He was always considerate of you and treated you very kindly.

But lately, Rudolph wouldn't let you out of his sight. And snapped at anyone who got near you, especially if you happened to walk by another deertaur. One time, he even looked as if he was about to stab at Blitzen with his antlers.

The reindeer even looked different. His normally kind brown eyes were more frenzied and dilated. The normally straight, soft, brown hair of his human half was unkempt. And his muscular human body was always tense.

The other deer-men knew what was going on. But it wasn't like they could get near you to tell you.

Rudolph was in rut.

And he had determined, subconsciously, that you were going to be his mate.

The other deer hybrids had gone to Santa and apprised him of the situation, but he chose to do nothing about it. Forcefully taking away a rutting deer's love interest could get very dangerous.

Besides, Christmas was fast approaching, and the fastest way out of rut was for Rudolph to satisfy his urges. And really, what was the comfort of one elf compared to the enormity of the holiday? Christmas was at stake.

In your employee contract, you had agreed to uphold the sanctity of the holiday and do everything in your power to keep Christmas safe and running smoothly. If that meant you had to be a cocksleeve for a deertaur to keep his head clear so he could guide the sleigh, then so be it.

But even Rudolph didn't know why he was so irritable or why he was so odd in his behavior towards you. Why the thought of you being near someone else or out of his side filled him with rage and anxiety.

You were completely distressed. Your boss was acting so differently towards you. You couldn't even return to your little hut. Normally, you would be dismissed at nights but Rudolph wouldn't let you leave.

Instead, you were made to sleep in his house and on his soft, low to the ground bedding.

One morning, about a week away from Christmas, you both learned why he was behaving in such an egregious manner.

Rudolph woke up before you did and something about the way you lay sprawled out with your butt up in the air and your pants slightly falling off. You woke something up in him.

All his instincts shouted at him to breed this elf that was presenting themself to him. To claim you as his mate officially.

Careful not to wake you, because he didn't want you to struggle until it was too late, he pulled your red and green pants and candy cane striped underwear down to your knees. Then he proceeded to lower himself over you until he was in position.

You were ripped violently from your dreams as extreme pain rammed through you. Rudolph, now at the height of his rut, had jammed in all in one go and with no prep.

Your tiny elf body squirmed and writhed in confusion and pain, the frantic struggles sending waves of pleasure through his cock which was embedded so well within you.

"Wha-what are you d-doing?" You squeaked out through the pain.

He didn't bother replying.

Rudolph's body was all you could see above you as his strong thrusts moved you back and forth below him.

The act was raw, instinctive, and possessive. Like your personhood was being fucked away by this being much larger than you until you were reduced to his property.

Screams for help barely escaped your body. They went unanswered. Even if someone had heard you Santa would have told them to steer clear.

You cried and sobbed, powerless to remove the brute who was raping you. Though it seemed he finally had noticed the cries of his partner through his rut.

He slowed down his pace, just a bit.

Snow elves were small but extremely resilient and adaptable. That fact, combined with a slightly slower rhythm allowed you to feel a bit of pleasure as your body adjusted.

"Fuck! You feel so tight! You're just so small~ Gotta fill you with cum. Gotta breed. Gotta breed. Gotta breed..."

You whimpered as the deer man lost himself in his carnal desire to fuck you silly.

He slowed down as he came in you, and you thought you could relax. You went limp, but before you could catch your breath he started pounding into you with renewed vigor, roughly pounding you into the bedding.

Cum leaked down your thighs as his heavy balls smacked you. The smell of his musk filled the air and made you a slight bit dizzy.

The seed from the first round of breeding had lubricated you nicely, and he slid in and out of you in a much more pleasurable manner.

"You take me so fucking well!"

Your crying and sobbing gradually turned into gasps and shudders of pleasure as over the course of the next several hours you came over and over until you couldn't react anymore.

You just lay there and take, completely senseless and overstimulated. Weeping not from pain but from the sensations of seemingly endless mating.

Finally he came in you hard and left himself in a while before pulling out completely. His dick left you with a lewd squelch as at least a gallon of semen dripped from your well worn hole.

For the first time in weeks he finally felt somewhat clear headed.

"Gosh, I'm so sorry."

Rudolph picked you up, cleaned you, and fed you. You were too tired to protest.

The deertaur was remarkably tender for someone who had just taken you against your will, treating you like a snowflake that would vanish under the slightest mistreatment.

It was odd being served by him for a change. But you were too out of it to really give it much thought.

"I'm sorry I wasn't more gentle. But I'm not sorry that you're my mate now."

He was still in rut, and every single day leading up to Christmas Eve, he made you endure an hours long breeding session. You smelled just like him. As if his scent was ingrained in you at a cellular level.

Luckily, his rut ended just in time for him to be able to complete his job, guiding the sleigh without a hitch.

You tried to escape while he was out with Santa, but the higher up elves informed you that you had a new assignment.

You had to live with Rudolph permanently to make sure he never got wild again. His partner had to live with him. If they took you from him now, even outside of rut, he'd go insane. And he performed a very important task by leading the sleigh.

You should have felt honored. Not many elves got to personally save Christmas.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Hi! First of all I *love* your guidelines. I’m just recently getting into Stray Kids and while I will read smut about 2D men, smut about real people is off putting to me, so that was really cool to see. Anyway, I love love love your angsty shots. They’re so good! Could I put in a request? I was thinking like how they would all react like, they were out on a date and paparazzi get too aggressive with Y/N and it causes her to get hurt? (I had a dream where I was on a date with Bangchan and we were trying to get into the back of a car and once I got in a paparazzi went to the other side of the car and yanked me out and Bangchan was BIG mad at them, especially cause when I fell out of the car I broke my wrist from landing on it) ANYWAY SORRY FOR THE RANT I’m just big in my feelings about these guys now and since it’s just new I know I’m in for a ride. Thank you!

When Paparazzi Gets Too Violent

OT8 x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Slight cussing

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Bang Chan

The night had started off perfectly- just you and Chan enjoying a cozy dinner in a quiet restaurant. It had been a while since you two had some time to unwind, since he had been busy with a comeback, and he looked so relieved to just be in your company. You loved watching him let down his guard, his tired eyes softening as he smiled at you across the table.

But the peace didn’t last long.

As soon as you both stepped out onto the street, the flashing lights and swarm of paparazzi descended. You heard your boyfriend let out a deafening sigh.

"Let's just get to the car," Chan whispered, his hand firm on the small of your back as he tried to guide you through the crowd of photographers, questions flying at both of you.

Despite his calm facade, you could feel his body tense under the pressure, his jaw clenching tighter each time someone shoved forward for a shot. You could tell he was on edge, trying so hard to keep his cool.

But then it happened.

You were just about to step into the safety of the car when a paparazzo grabbed you by the arm and yanked you backward. The sudden force threw you off balance, and before you knew it, you were crashing to the pavement. The pain in your wrist was immediate and sharp as you braced yourself on the concrete. The gasp you let out sent Chan into a rage.

"Y/N!" His voice was frantic as he rushed to your side, but the second his eyes landed on the man who had pulled you, something dark flickered across his face.

Bang Chan was not one to lose his temper. He was the leader, the level-headed one, but seeing you hurt because of someone else’s carelessness was his breaking point.

He stood, stepping between you and the crowd, his entire posture shifting from protective to menacing in the blink of an eye. "What the hell do you think you’re doing?!" His voice was low and dangerous, and you could see the tension in his fists, knuckles white as he held himself back from doing something drastic.

The paparazzo who had grabbed you shrunk back under his icy glare, but the cameras kept flashing, people still trying to get closer.

Chan shoved him back, hard. "Get. Away. From her."

It was only when he heard your voice again, a weak "Chan, I'm okay…" that he turned his attention back to you, his anger melting instantly into concern. His eyes softened as he knelt down beside you, his hands gentle as they reached for your wrist.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, his voice shaky, filled with guilt. "I’m so sorry. I should’ve-"

You shook your head, biting back the pain, not wanting to make him feel worse. "It's not your fault."

But he wasn’t having any of it. "We’re going to the hospital," he said firmly, scooping you up into his arms as if you weighed nothing. "And I swear, I' won’t let them get away with this. I'm ruining that bastard. "

Lee Know

You and Minho were just trying to enjoy a quiet evening stroll through the park- nothing fancy, just some much-needed alone time. Minho had been busy lately, so this was your chance to reconnect, to talk, to be close. The air was crisp, the city lights reflecting off the pond as you held hands, walking slowly. It was a short escape.

Paparazzi had a way of ruining even the quietest moments. You didn’t notice them at first, but Minho did. His grip on your hand tightened subtly, his gaze shifting as they began to close in, cameras ready, questions already being flung at both of you.

He didn’t say anything- just kept walking, his jaw set, but you could feel the tension in his steps, the way his body became a shield between you and them.

"Ignore them," he muttered under his breath, pulling you a little closer. His voice was calm, almost icy. Minho never gave them the satisfaction of a reaction.

But then one of the paparazzo's got too close- pushing past Minho to get a better shot of you. The sudden shove caused you to lose your footing, and before you could even process what was happening, you were on the ground, a sharp pain shooting through your knee.

You winced, your hands instinctively reaching for your leg, but before you could even say a word, Minho was already in motion.

He froze, his eyes narrowing in on the photographer who had knocked you down. The air around him seemed to grow colder, his usual composed demeanor unraveling in the blink of an eye. "Are you out of your mind?"

His voice was so calm it was terrifying.

Minho’s eyes were dark as he stepped toward the paparazzo, and though he wasn’t yelling, the quiet, seething rage in his voice made everyone around stop in their tracks. "You’ve got five seconds to leave before I make you regret it."

The man stammered, backing away, but Minho didn’t even spare him another glance as he knelt down next to you, his hands surprisingly gentle as they inspected your scraped knee.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, his tone soft and completely different from the menacing one he used just moments before.

You nodded, wincing as he brushed some of the dirt off your skin. "It’s just a scratch though, I'll be okay."

His eyes softened, though you could still see the anger simmering beneath the surface. "I’m sorry," he whispered, more to himself than to you. "The night's ruined now..."

You shook your head, knowing it wasn’t his fault, but Minho wasn’t easily reassured. He stood, lifting you in his arms as he headed toward the car. "Let’s go home. I’m not letting you out of my sight again."

Changbin

Being with Changbin was always full of fun, laughter, and energy. Tonight was no different as you both walked hand-in-hand down the street after attending an small festival and grabbing a bit to eat. The air was light, and Changbin was chatting animatedly about music, making you giggle as he recounted a funny story from practice earlier.

But the night took a turn for the worse when you two were spotted. At first, it was just a few cameras, nothing unusual. Changbin was good at staying composed in these situations, but tonight, the crowd of photographers seemed to multiply within seconds, blocking your path as they shoved their cameras in your faces.

Changbin’s expression shifted instantly, his playful smile fading as he moved protectively in front of you. "Stay behind me," he muttered, his voice low and firm.

You did as he said, gripping his arm as he tried to push through the crowd, but the paparazzi weren’t letting up. One of them shoved past Changbin, aiming for a close-up shot, and in the process, they knocked into you hard.

You stumbled backward, tripping over the uneven pavement and hitting your head against the side of a parked car. The impact sent a sharp pain through your skull, and you gasped, your hand flying to your head as you tried to steady yourself.

That was all it took for Changbin to snap.

His usually calm and playful demeanor was gone, replaced by a burning fury that made everyone around stop in their tracks. "What the hell do you think you’re doing?!" His voice boomed through the crowd as he stormed toward the man who had hurt you.

Changbin wasn’t usually one to raise his voice in anger, but when he did, it was enough to make even the bravest person shrink back. The photographer stammered, trying to backpedal, but Changbin was already in his face, his fists clenched as he loomed over him.

"You touch her again, and I swear-"

"Changbin," you called out softly, trying to bring him back to reality as you cradled your head. "I’m okay…"

Hearing your voice, he snapped out of it, his expression softening instantly as he rushed back to your side. "Are you hurt? Let me see."

His hands trembled slightly as he gently brushed your hair away from your face, his eyes filled with guilt and concern. "I’m so sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking.

You shook your head, trying to reassure him. "It’s not your fault."

But Changbin wasn’t convinced. He helped you into the car, his jaw still clenched as he muttered, "I’m never letting them get near you again."

Hyunjin

Hyunjin had always been good at keeping his emotions in check when the paparazzi were involved, but tonight they seemed particularly aggressive. You two had just finished a late-night art gallery visit, one of Hyunjin’s favorite ways to unwind, when the paparazzi caught wind of your location.

At first, Hyunjin tried to ignore them, his arm securely around your waist as you both headed toward the car. "Don’t look at them," he whispered, his voice calm but with an edge of anxiety. He hated the way they intruded on your private moments. Especially when you weren't too keen about having your face all over the internet.

But as you got closer to the car, the crowd surged forward, one of the photographers getting too close. In the rush, someone shoved you hard from behind, causing you to trip and fall forward. You reached out trying to grab Hyunjin- accidentally bringing him down with you, which caused the cameras to snap even more. Hyunjin had somehow landed on top of you; while you landed awkwardly on your elbow, pain shooting up your arm as you let out a soft cry.

Hyunjin had already gotten up but upon hearing your cry his entire body froze. His gaze shot down to where you were on the ground, and for a moment, he didn’t move, the shock registering on his face. Then, something snapped.

His eyes blazed as he turned to the photographer who had caused your fall, his usually soft expression darkening with anger. "Why the hell would you think it's okay to get rough?!" he spat, his voice shaking with fury. Hyunjin wasn’t one to yell, but the way his voice trembled with suppressed rage was even more terrifying.

He stalked toward the man, his entire body tense as if he was ready to lash out at any moment. "Do you have any idea what you’ve done?" His voice was quiet, but the threat in his tone was unmistakable.

The photographer backed away, stammering apologies, but Hyunjin wasn’t listening. His focus was on you now, his anger dissipating the second he saw you holding your elbow in pain.

"Y/N…" He knelt down beside you, his hands hovering over your arm as if he was afraid to touch you in case he made it worse. "Where does it hurt, love? I’m so sorry…I didn’t see them coming towards you, it's my fault.”

You winced, trying to smile through the pain. "I’ll be okay."

But Hyunjin wasn’t having any of it. "We’re going to get your elbow checked out." he said firmly, his voice still shaking as he helped you to your feet. "And then we'll deal with the idiot who pushed you."

Jisung

Jisung had always been protective of you, but he wasn’t one to confront others unless he absolutely had to. Tonight, however, the situation forced his hand.

You and Jisung were leaving a small café after a quiet date, enjoying the peace that came with being together without people around. But that peace was shattered when a swarm of cameras appeared out of nowhere, crowding around you both as you tried to make your way back to the car.

At first, Jisung tried to keep it together. His grip on your hand tightened as he led you through the mass of flashing cameras and shouted questions. His heartbeat raced, anxiety bubbling in his chest as he tried to remain calm for your sake. You could easily tell he was anxious by the way his hand shook in yours.

But then it happened.

One of the photographers got too close, bumping into you as she shoved her camera forward. The force of it sent you stumbling, your knee hitting the ground hard as you let out a sharp cry of pain.

Panic surged through Jisung. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he froze, his wide eyes darting between you and the crowd around you. He wanted to lash out, wanted to yell, but his anxiety made his words catch in his throat.

Instead, he knelt down beside you, his trembling hands hovering over your injured knee. "Y/N, are you okay?" His voice wavered, the fear and guilt evident in his tone.

You winced, trying to smile through the pain. "I think I’m okay, just a bit scraped up."

Jisung’s mind raced. He knew he should say something, do something, but his usual anxious thoughts were louder than ever. What if he made it worse? What if he couldn’t protect you?

But then he saw the look on your face- how you were trying so hard to stay strong even though you were in pain -and something in him snapped. His fear was replaced by a surge of protective anger.

Jisung stood up, his usually anxious eyes hardening as he faced the paparazzi. His voice was shaky, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. "Back off," he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper, but firm. "You’ve done enough."

The paparazza who had bumped into you tried to offer an apology, but Jisung wasn’t listening. His focus was solely on you as he crouched back down, gently helping you to your feet. His hands were still shaking, but his grip was steady as he held you close.

"I’m so sorry," he whispered, his eyes glistening with guilt and worry. "I should’ve done more."

You shook your head, placing a hand on his cheek. "It’s not your fault, Jisung. I’m okay. And there isn't much you can do about them."

But Jisung wasn’t convinced. He gently wrapped an arm around your waist, helping you limp toward the car. His voice was quiet, filled with an anxiety-fueled promise. "I’ll protect you better next time, I swear. I won’t let them hurt you."

As you both reached the safety of the car, Jisung finally let out the breath he had been holding, pulling you into a tight hug. His body trembled slightly, but his arms were firm around you, as if he was holding onto you for dear life.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice barely audible, but filled with sincerity. "I’m never letting this happen again. Never."

Felix

Felix had always been the softest, sweetest soul you’d ever met, but even the kindest person had their limits. Tonight, you found out exactly what that limit was.

You and Felix were on your way to a late-night movie when the paparazzi caught wind of your date. It started with a few photographers, nothing Felix couldn’t handle. He just kept you close, his hand in yours, trying to keep the mood light as you both walked toward the theater. If anything, some cute and candid photos of his love for you would be broadcasted to the world. Nothing too bad about that, right?

But then the crowd started to grow, and they weren’t just taking pictures- they were yelling questions, getting closer and closer with each step. Felix’s grip on your hand tightened, his steps growing faster as he tried to get you away from them.

"Just ignore them," he whispered, his usual bright demeanor gone as he focused on getting you to safety.

But then, in the chaos, one of the photographers reached out, grabbing your shoulder to pull you back for a better shot. The force of it caused you to stumble, your ankle twisting painfully as you cried out in surprise.

That was when everything changed.

That limit was reached.

Felix’s usually bright eyes darkened, a storm brewing behind them as he turned on the photographer who had dared to touch you. You had never seen him like this- his entire body radiated fury as he stepped toward the man, his voice low and dangerous.

"Touch her again, and I swear to God, I'll end you." Felix’s voice was a quiet snarl, each word laced with venom. He didn’t have to yell to be terrifying. The photographer shrank back, clearly not expecting this reaction from the usually soft-spoken Felix.

But Felix didn’t stop there. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. "You think you can just push her around like that?" His voice trembled with rage, his fists clenched at his sides as he held himself back from doing something he might regret.

Despite Felix’s usually soft-spoken nature, tonight, seeing you hurt pushed him beyond his breaking point. The paparazzo who had shoved you continued to cower as Felix approached him, his eyes blazing with a fury that you had never seen before.

No one had, really. You now understood why the members had once said Felix might have been the scariest one of them all, when he was truly angry.

"You think this is a game?" Your fiancé's voice was low, almost a whisper, but it was filled with a deadly calm that sent chills down your spine. His usually gentle demeanor had been replaced by something darker, more dangerous.

The paparazzi stuttered an apology, backing away, but Felix didn’t move. He took another step closer, his fists clenched at his sides. "You don’t get to touch her," he growled, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying an unmistakable threat. "You crossed a line, and that was a huge mistake."

The photographer muttered an apology, scurrying away, but Felix wasn’t interested in anything he had to say. He turned back to you, his expression softening instantly as he saw you clutching your ankle.

"Oh, love," he whispered, his voice full of guilt and concern as he crouched down beside you. "I don't know how I got blessed with someone like you. The fact you put up with all of this is insane."

He helped you up. "Is your ankle, okay?"

"Yeah, I think I just landed on it weird I'll be fine..." Your voice was a bit shaky- not because you were in pain but because an angry Felix was...scary, to say the least. "I can walk- woah!"

Felix scooped you up into his arms effortlessly, the pure rush of adrenaline giving him a strength that you figured could rival Changbin's in the moment. His eyes still blazed with anger as he shot a look towards the rest of the paparazzi who left without another word. "They'll never bother us again." he promised, his calm. "I swear."

Seungmin

Seungmin was always calm under pressure, the voice of reason when things got chaotic. But even he had times where his rationale would fly out the window.

You and Seungmin were walking through the streets after dinner, enjoying a date night together when the paparazzi found you.

Or someone else for that matter. As you two quickly realized they were focused on a different idol who had happened to be in the same area. So, Seungmin just kept his arm around you, his posture relaxed, guiding you through around crowd without a word- without so much as a look to the cameras.

And you almost got away.

That was until more photographers joined in, pushing and shoving to get closer, to the other idol. Seungmin’s calm demeanor began to slip. He tightened his hold on you, his eyes flickering with irritation as he tried to get you through the growing crowd.

"Just pay no mind," he muttered, his voice low, but you could hear the tension in it.

You nodded, staying close to him as you reached the end of the crowded space- but then another swarm of the pap came in and in the midst of chaos, someone pushed you from behind, causing you to stumble and fall against the pavement. Your hands hit the ground hard, scraping your palms as you let out a small whine, trying to get up but nearly stampeded in the process.

That was when Seungmin snapped.

His usually calm eyes darkened as he turned on the photographer who had pushed you, his entire body radiating fury. "What the hell is wrong with you?" His voice was low and controlled, but the anger in it was unmistakable.

One of the paparazza's turned to see Seungmin, who in the middle of the commotion had somehow lost his hat.

Seungmin wasn’t the type to raise his voice, but the way he looked at the photographer made everyone around stop in their tracks for a second. The woman stammered, trying to back away, but Seungmin wasn’t letting her off easily.

But the second the words left his mouth, he felt the cool breeze ruffle his hair and he knew he made a mistake. He mutter a curse under his breath and he rushed to your side blocking you from the paparazzi as their cameras started flashing in his direction. His hands were gentle as they reached for yours, inspecting the scrapes on your palms. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice full of guilt.

You nodded. "I’ll be fine."

"I'm sorry I drew attention to us." He murmured.

"It's okay."

But Seungmin's mood was ruined. He helped you to your feet, his eyes still flickering with anger as he glared at the paparazzi over his shoulder. "No pictures." he said firmly, his voice trembling with barely restrained fury as he guided you to where he had parked the car. It was no use, since they never listened. But he continued chanting it as he hid your face.

"I'm sorry, Y/N." He said once more. "They're the fucking worst."

Jeongin

You and Jeongin had been trying to enjoy a quiet day out, just the two of you exploring the city. He’d been excited to show you some of his favorite spots, and the day had been perfect, but the inevitable happened.

Jeongin tensed the moment he saw the cameras approaching, his hand tightening around yours as he tried to keep his cool. "Just stay close," he whispered, his voice calm but a little shaky. "It hasn't happened to me yet but sometimes they can get rough..."

You could tell he was nervous, but he did his best to protect you, stepping in front of you as the photographers got closer. They started snapping pictures, throwing questions at you both, but Jeongin just kept walking, his arm securely around you.

But then one of the paparazzi got too close, pushing past Jeongin to get a better shot of you. The sudden shove knocked you off balance, and you tripped over the curb, falling hard onto the pavement. You cried out as you landed on your tailbone.

Damn that hurts.

You felt blood seeping on the back of your leg too, a shard of glass seeming to have cut through your pant and wounded your thigh.

Jeongin froze, his eyes wide with shock as he saw you on the ground and the bit of blood. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do, his usual calm demeanor slipping as panic set in. "Y/N…" he whispered, his voice trembling as he crouched down beside you.

"Where are you bleeding from?" he asked, his hands hovering over you as if he was too scared to touch you, afraid of making it worse.

You winced, in annoyance, since the fall was painful but not unbearable. "I think that there was a broken bottle..."

Jeongin’s eyes filled with guilt as he glanced back at the paparazzi, his usually soft expression hardening for just a moment. He wasn’t the type to get angry easily in front of you, but seeing you hurt because of someone else’s carelessness made something inside him snap.

He stood up, turning to face the photographer with a look of quiet fury. "You shouldn’t have done that," he muttered, his voice low and steady, but there was a fire in his eyes that you had never seen before. "Get away now before I call the police on all of you."

When the paparazzi didn't listen his voice raised.

"I SAID LEAVE!" His voice was sharp and threatening. So much so the group immediately dissipated.

He quickly turned his attention back to you after making sure everyone was gone, his hands trembling slightly as he helped you up. "I’m so sorry…" he whispered, his voice thick with guilt as he wrapped an arm around you. "I didn't think they would do that..."

You shook your head, trying to reassure him. "It’s not your fault, Innie."

Jeongin frowned, pulling you closer to him. "Next time we can bring one of the Hyungs. Then I can protect you better."

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

@night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz

[defmaybe]

Bahama

KISS OF LIFE’s Won Haneul x Male Reader

1.7k words

See Also: Sticky, Not Shy

A/N: Itzy fic with a Kiss of Life title, check. Aespa fic with an Itzy title, check. So, here we are, Kiss of Life fic with an Aespa title. Also, a bit exposition heavy in the beginning lmao. Thanks for reading as always!!!

–

Small, idyllic waves crash into the golden sand. Seagulls fly above your head. People run into the water. The scent of salt permeates the air. The sun is setting in front of you, casting orange into the sky. You’d be lying to say that you don’t like this place.

Department trip, electrical engineering to be exact, would’ve been a splendid chance for you to get closer to Won Haneul, the goddess you’ve been pining over for the last few months. You fell in love with her confidence—how she’s always not letting her voice be silenced. Her leadership—how she led your group to a standing ovation from the professor last semester. Her invulnerability—how she stands up for the minority (which includes you, once).

Two problems, though. She definitely doesn’t love you back. Only occasional hello-s and hi-s in the hallway, that’s all. And this trip has been far from productive. You couldn’t get close to her for less than a meter for the last thirty-six hours, and by tomorrow, this chance would fly away as you two have to go back to your mundane university lives.

The other problem is that everyone has also been pining over her, so your chances are negative.

–

You and Wonbin are sitting on the sand, watching the sunset together. What a sight. Both of you have been sipping your beers once every few minutes for a while now. You watch Haneul playing volleyball with her friends from afar, wearing a set of skimpy clothes you’ve been fantasizing about for the last few months. Black bra, short jeans that accentuate her ass so fucking well. You have to adjust your trunks every once in a while to hide that raging erection.

Not that it goes by without Wonbin noticing it, though.

“Fucking pervert,” he says with a giggle.

“What the fuck?” you sneer back at him, trying to deny your frenzy lust for Haneul.

“And I thought I’ve been the dirty one all this time.”

“Fuck off, man,” you curse, gauging off a laugh from Wonbin.

“You really like her that much, don’t you?”

You can only whimper back.

“Go talk to her! I’m sure she won’t mind.”

“I don’t know, man. She wouldn’t even bat an eye on me unless I’m in an accident or something.” You surrender to the hypothetical apathy of hers. How could a popular woman even come to pour an ounce of interest for you?

White screen, her in the middle, smiling, a single, large carnation blooming behind her.

Elegant.

She looks better alone than with you.

“I mean, I didn’t win Jiwoo’s heart by just looking at her from afar. Go talk to her!” Wonbin says with a chuckle, shrugging. “A simple ‘Hey’ wouldn’t hurt.”

“What if she doesn’t like me? You can’t just expect me to do that!” you reply, sighing.

“Look, it’s the only way, man. Stop putting women on the pedestal and your whole world will change,” he answers.

“Ugh, I just–” you lie down on the sand before closing your eyes. “–I can’t.”

Wonbin pats your shoulder before lying down beside you.

“Man.”

—

Your moment of peace lasts pretty long. If the weather isn’t so hot, you swear you could fall asleep right then and there. The sound of the sea fills your ear, with the images of Haneul in those shorts reeling in your mind. God, what a time.

Until you feel a cold sensation on your pants, freezing cold.

And you hear Haneul gasps.

“Shit, fuck, I–I’m sorry,” she apologizes, stuttering slightly.

Shit. She spills her watermelon frappe on the fabric. You can’t panic. Don’t fucking panic.

“O–Oh, it’s f–fine, Miss Won,” you stammer in the same fashion as hers, before realizing what you’ve just–

“Hmm?” she says, before letting out a laugh, one that’s probably out of you being a pathetic man.

Fuck.

“Miss Won?” Her laugh grows even louder.

Why not just end it all here? You sit there, frozen, until her snicker subsides.

“Oh, don’t be shy, mister,” Haneul says with a sly smile, offering you a hand to get up. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Again, I’m sorry for, well, that.”

“I–It’s fine, Haneul.” You comply with her invitation, reaching for her and getting up from the sandy floor. There goes your chance of her. It’s over. 

At least she’s still kind to you.

—

“Ready?”

“Yeah.”

Haneul adeptly twists the tap, and warm water flows out of the shower head she’s holding onto your swimming trunk. It was supposed to get wet, anyway. It’s just not in the way you’ve expected it to be.

She takes you back to the villa to clean you up. Sure, you could’ve just walked into the sea for a cleanup session, but her insistence was hard to resist. So, here you are, in the bathroom together.

She smiles throughout this embarrassing act (at least for you), as if there’s something amusing to be found within washing watermelon frappe off a man’s private parts. You are in a frozen state in front of this deity, just half a meter away from you, unable to say a word aside from the high-pitched grunts from time to time, bringing out laughs from her.

Until she clears her throat.

“Can I say something?” Haneul asks, eyes darting away from you, finding comfort in other objects around the room.

“Y–Yeah, sure.”

“Um…” She blinks rapidly, only able to maintain just a split second of eye contact with you. Is she finding you repulsive?

Anticipation hangs heavy. Both of you cannot say a thing under the silence. You watch her evading your eyes.

“Nothing,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ears. “We should get going.”

It’s over.

“Yeah,” you reply, before patting the last bit of the red chunk away as she turns off the water. “Thanks, Haneul.”

It ends here—your chance with her. At least you two can still be friends.

You turn back, ready to open the do–

“Wait.”

The word holds you accountable for a hot breath longer.

She turns the tap back on. But this time, she aims for your abdomen. Water trickles down your body.

“W–Woah, what the–”

A kiss on your lips silences you.

You take in her scent of sweat mixed with an otherworldly hypnotic perfume—salty, floral. Her tongue invades your mouth with ease, sweeping the insides of your warm cavern. The shower head is pressed between your bodies; water is running down and makes her frame wet alongside you. Fireworks are everywhere; people are cheering and clapping their hands; music is playing.

Won Haneul kisses you—with tongue.

She unlatches herself off of your lips, panting for air. “F–Fuck, that was great.”

You’re at a loss for words, still processing the kiss that happened mere seconds ago.

“Kneel for me, please.”

Without a single thought, you fall to your knees. The scent of her only serves to drive you insane.

Haneul would say nothing before slowly, so, so slowly, peeling off her incredibly tight shorts, revealing black panties underneath that matched her bra.

“Like the view, baby?” she asks.

You nod without resistance.

“Good boy,” she says, before softly pushing your damp head onto her equally wet cunt from the running water. And instinctively, you stick your tongue out and lick her clothed folds like some starving whore, drawing a gasp from her.

“Fuck!” exclaims Haneul. Her grip on your head becomes tighter. The pain stings, but your determination is unwavering. Your tongue keeps its pace on the soft fabric just for her pleasure. She just cannot whine louder at your touch.

The hint of her salty taste seeps through the dark fabric, diluted by the trickling water from the shower. Her fingers run along your hair, sending you into haywire, but you need even more.

Your hands seem to have minds of their own. They slither up her soft, toned legs, up the luscious thighs. They’re so firm. Until you reach the tenderness of her ass you’ve been craving for.

“Yes!” she screams, mouth opening wide, moaning. She pushes your head against the wall. The sound of the water still rings in your ear, dribbling down from your pressed head. It mixes with her thunderous moans into a cacophony. “Y–You’re gonna make me cum.”

Her legs turn stiff. Her breaths become more erratic and frenzy. You keep your pace, you have to. Going faster will kill the momentum. You keep lapping up her juices through those skimpy black panties, tasting that salt running out of her pretty cunt. The spilling softness in your hands only drives you further into mania.

And a loud gasp is all it takes for you to see heaven.

Fuck.

Her legs cease to stand up straight. Her grip on your head loosens as she becomes a wobbly mess. A high note echoes through the bathroom. Someone must’ve heard that, but you’re not in a position to care. You’ve just had the best meal of your life that is Won Haneul’s cunt.

“Fuck, shit,” she exclaims, as she’s coming down from her high. She lets go of your head. But as if you’re magnetized to her cavern, you keep slurping up her tangy juices through the revealing garment—any of what’s left. You can just do this forev–

“A–Alright, I know I taste good, baby.” The water is still running, washing any filth of the mere minutes ago away.

It takes a lot of self-reservation to put yourself out of her cunt. That salty, mouthwatering cunt. You whine a little as you pull your head back.

She washes the dirtiness on you with the water before turning it off, hanging the head back into its place.

“Thanks,” you reply with a smile.

“C’mon, let’s go to the sea. Maybe tonight–” she slithers her hand down into your shorts, groping your length—grabbing, squeezing, stroking, all in a flash. “–I’ll give you more than my lips.

The touch alone puts you back in your place. “Y–Yes, Haneul.”

—

[slytherinstories]

SIT DOWN

This is inspired by a TikTok I seen by @blaackaesthetics

Description: Mattheo Riddle is your boyfriend and Theodore Nott his best friend. As much as you love him he doesn’t half get on your nerves with the pair of you always fighting like a cat and dog. In a heavily heated argument Theo tells your boyfriend to get you under control which makes you see red.

18+, Smut

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You, Mattheo and Theo (your boyfriend’s best friend) are currently sitting in the common room. What started as you complaining about his fuckboy ways has turned into a screaming match between you and Theo. Mattheo as usual is caught in between, watching the pair of you with amusement.

The audacity this boy has. You always knew that he was a player and despite your many conversations trying to talk sense into him for the most part you left him to it. That is until he hurt one of your best friends. You warned him, you also warned her but she has always been far too naive. He asked for you to set the pair up, him claiming he won’t do anything to hurt her. For so long you refused until she was practically begging you to. So you have in hoping he doesn’t fuck with her head too much but of course she had to fall for him.

‘Theo I just don’t get how you think you can treat people like that do you not have an ounce of fucking remorse in your body?’

He shrugs his nonchalant attitude grating on you even more ‘she knew what she was getting herself in for.’

‘You never once said it was a one night stand you made out like you liked her back.’

‘Well she read into things I didn’t say any of what she is implying.’

‘You know what girls are like and you still chose to lead her on knowing what would happen.’

He doesn’t even look at you still smoking in his own world unfazed by your complaining. Rage fills you even more how he can act so heartless when you had to sit with your friend whilst she cried for two days straight. You have always been protective when it comes to those you love and he has took it too far. You storm over to were he is sat grab the cigarette out of his hand and put it out on the ash tray ‘fucking listen to me you dick!’

‘What the fuck!’ he shouts standing up and getting in your face ‘don’t ignore me when I am talking to you I told you to not hurt her, are you really that desperate to get your dick wet you had to sleep with the one person I said not to!’ You look him up and down with disgust.

He clenches his jaw rage filling his veins at the way you are speaking to him. No one else dares to and you best believe you are putting him in his place. He gives you a little shove ‘do not talk to me like that, I will do what I want she was the one fucking begging for it.’

You shake your head glaring at him ‘you’re disgusting.’

‘Yeah and little Molly fucking loved…’

‘Argghhh’ you want to punch the smug prick but you opt for your wand instead. You have always been to impulsive and prone to anger so you don’t even have time to think before you are trying to fire a hex his way. Before the words can leave your mouth your wand goes flying out your hand. Mattheo as always keeping a close eye on the situation had said ‘expelliarmus’ without you hearing, damn him and his quidditch reflexes.

‘Fucking control your girl.’ He adds in snidely only making you more angry. ‘Excuse me I don’t fucking need controlling maybe you need to stop being such a filthy manwhore…’ you push him back.

‘All right love that’s enough’ you feel his arms around your waist pulling you back even though you fight him. He pulls you to face him ‘sit down’ he nods head to the couch but you just glare at him. ‘Fine I’ll sit you down’ he plops down onto the couch pulling you onto his lap, his arms around your waist in a death grip.

‘Are you not going to tell him I’m not doing anything wrong.’

Theo looks at you smirking at the fact Mattheo tried to put you in your place ‘Mattheo I’m going to kill him let me go.’

‘Love calm down and you stop antagonising her you prick.’ Theo just gives an innocent smile ‘hey I’m not doing anything was just trying to smoke in peace before I got attacked.’

‘Can you blame me you know it’s the one thing I asked him not to do she’s been heartbroken all week.’

Mattheo nods at you stroking your cheek ‘I know it’s not worth getting angry over you two need to stop arguing.’ He stares deep into your eyes holding you there for a second until you feel yourself relaxing. Your anger dissipates more at his touch and you breathe in getting more comfy on his lap. ‘Good girl’ he says tucking your hair behind your ear.

‘Listen mate did you really have to fuck her out of everyone she did beg you…’

‘I didn’t know she would get so attached you warned her yourself not my fault she is stupid and didn’t listen.’

You try to stand up and charge over to him but you can’t move with your boyfriend’s strength holding you to his chest. Theo just chuckles at this again. He has always known how quick to anger you are and he just loves winding you up. ‘Matt don’t you dare fucking defend him he’s horrible!’

‘Theo’ Mattheo says sternly. He just looks over sighing holding his hands up in defeat not wanting to upset his best friend. ‘All right all right I’m sorry I fucked her can you blame me though I did try and stay away she was practically begging me!’

‘You can apologise to her as well.’

‘No fucking way.’

You look at your boyfriend crossing your arms knowing he will find a way to force Theo to. He just raises his brows at him and Theo huffs ‘For fucks sake, what am I meant to say I’m sorry you like me?’

‘No you say I’m sorry I don’t feel the same way I shouldn’t have led you on and you deserve better anyway because she fucking does I could kill you for making her feel like shit when she deserves the world.’

He sighs ‘listen I could have never gave her what she wanted anyway it was for the best.’

‘Just tell her that then you don’t have to be such a dick about everything and do me a favour and stop going after girls you know will only end up obsessed with you do you need an ego boost that bad?’

He rolls his tongue on the inside of his cheek trying to hold back another snarky comment. ‘Fine where is she.’

‘In her common room the last time I seen her.’

‘You want me to go all the way to the Hufflepuff rooms?’

‘Yes I do I don’t want her upset any longer.’

He bounces his leg up and down for a moment ‘Ugh fine’ he storms off out of your common room to find her and you breathe out a breathe of relief.

Your boyfriend slowly lets go of you ‘your not a safety hazard are you anymore love’ he chuckles and you send a sharp glare his way. ‘Why do you always defend him I’m not the one that needs controlling it’s his mouth!’

‘I know but you are both in the wrong I’ve told you that you need to control your temper and listen to me.’

‘Well he deserved what I was about to do to him.’

‘Yeah and what was that?’

‘Iwasgoingtogivehimpigears.’

‘What was that?’

You sigh ‘I was going to give him pig ears’ you mutter.

His jaw drops but a laugh escapes his lips despite himself ‘you’re fucking crazy.’

‘Well he shouldn’t piss me off.’

‘You can’t just go round hexing people love do you want to get expelled?’

‘Stop trying to tell me what to do I’m sick of him telling you to control me what am I a dog?’

‘Y/N’ he warns you but you stand up storming to your room. You know it’s unfair to direct your anger at him but there’s nothing you hate more than being told what to do. You just need some space to breathe and try to calm down. He gives you a few minutes and you sit biting your nails the worst habit you could have.

He eventually makes his way to your room slowly shutting the door and walking over to where you are sat. He tilts your chin up to him. ‘You done yet?’

Despite you and Mattheo both being the most impulsive, anger prone people you both know exactly how to calm the other down. No matter how much you try to push him away he can always put you in your place, bringing you back down from the choking feeling of rage.

You clench your jaw looking away still being too stubborn. ‘Stop acting like you are on his side.’

‘your my girl and he’s my best friend I’m not siding with either of you I told him he was being a dick but you can’t act like that’

You look back at him and he crouches down between your legs hands running up and down your thighs. ‘Am I the one that done it? No so you can drop your attitude right now and stop taking it out on me.’

You breathe in knowing he is right but you can’t admit defeat just yet. You just cross your arms and he rolls his tongue on the inside of his cheek. ‘You going to make me get rid of that attitude then?’

‘Fucking brat’ he says as you don’t answer pushing you roughly down on the bed ‘when I tell you to sit down and shut up you fucking listen to me.’

You go to give him a snarky retort but he leans over squeezing your neck ‘you think that’s wise?’ Your mouth snaps shut seeing the look in his eyes. ‘Now are you going to be a good girl and stop being a bitch to me.’

‘Yes.’ You grit out. ‘What was that love?’

‘I said yes.’ You say your tone still being bitchy ‘mhmm not good enough you’re still speaking to me like shit apologise.’

Your jaw drops in disbelief ‘me apologise what the fuck Mattheo it was him…!’

‘You are acting like a fucking toddler apologise for not controlling yourself and clearly not doing what I say.’

You cross your arms ignoring him, your stubbornness always being your worst trait. He looks at you darkly ‘suit yourself.’

He rags of your nickers and skirt ‘act tough all you want we both know I’m in control here it’s about time you acted like it.’

Anticipation runs through your body and a dark part of you just loves seeing him like this, you love being put in your place despite all your protests that you hate being told what to do. ‘You’re going to do exactly what I say understand?’

‘Yes’ you breathe out nearly moaning just off his words. ‘I’m going to do exactly what I fucking please with you and you’re going to take it yeah?’ You nod your head at him. ‘This will teach you right for being such a brat.’

He usually teases you, starting off slow taking his sweet time eating you out. However you can tell this isn’t about his own pleasure or yours it’s a punishment. He dives onto your clit straight away biting and sucking harshly. The pressure is too much and you gasp your back arching ‘Matt!’ You try to pull away or pull his head back but he wraps his arms around your thighs holding them in place ‘Shut the fuck up I don’t want to hear another word.’ He mutters still continuing his attack.

Despite how overstimulating it is after a while of pressure building you feel yourself coming close to an orgasm you tangle your hands in his hair riding his tongue as he continues to eat you out. He must sense it as well because just it was about to wash over you he pulls away wiping his mouth. You gasp ‘Matt what the fuck…’

He climbs over grabbing your throat again ‘I thought I said not another word?’

You let out a half whimper half moan and nod your head. ‘Sorry baby I was so close.’ He chuckles darkly ‘I know and it’s your own fault for disobeying me you’re not finishing until I say so.’

You want to cry, you want to go back ten minutes and change your actions just so he can let you finish. ‘Complain one more time and I’ll stop all together.’ He remains hovering over you eyes locked on yours as he slowly pumps one finger in and out of you. It’s torture and you buck your hips needing more. You want to cry and beg him but you know it will only make it worse if you speak so you take his teasing and bite your lip as hard as you can.

He eventually pulls out all together stripping his clothes off until his dick springs out. He spreads your legs wide teasing your entrance. ‘Look how wet you are I bet you love this don’t you being put in your place.’

‘Don’t worry darling there’s going to be no attitude left in you once I’m done.’ He finally puts himself inside you but he has no mercy. Instantly his pounding in and out your cunt. The pain and pleasure is disorienting and your legs instantly try to close. He growls and pulls them open again ‘open your fucking legs’ you do as he says sobbing as he continues slamming his hips into yours ‘that’s a good girl spread them nice and wide for me.’

He was right he is going to do exactly what he wants to you and all you can do is take it. Your body goes limp, you stop fighting and let the intensity of the feeling take over you. This gives him more room to get even closer to you driving deeper then you thought possible. ‘That’s it take my dick.’ You don’t even try to hold back your moans as the pain starts morphing into pleasure.

‘Apologise now.’

You barely hear him lost in a world of your own until he stops causing you to whimper again grabbing him but he just pins your hands above your head. ‘You want to cum?’ You nod your head frantically ‘Apologise.’

‘I’m sorry Matt.’

‘Mhm’ he says starting to drive back into you ‘what for?’

‘For-for’ you moan as he keeps hitting the spot ‘Matt!’ You scream out trying to convey that you aren’t in the position to be listing our apologies.

‘Come on love spit out’ he just chuckles taunting you. ‘I’m sorry for being a brat and not listening!’

‘Who do you belong to?’

‘You’

‘So you are going to listen to me from now on or the punishment will be a lot worse then this I’ve let you off easy.’

You nod your head just wanting to cum. ‘I’ll be good now Matt… I’m getting close.’

‘Go on them baby cum.’ wraps his arms around your waist pulling you closer and slams his hips in and out with a pace you didn’t even think was possible. You are a blabbering mess as you finally finish and tears fill your eyes at you finally being able to release. Matt finishes a couple of minutes later pulling out and you don’t even give him a second before clinging onto him.

‘There’s my girl’ he presses a kiss to your forehead seeing you back relaxed in your usual soft state with him. Who knew it just took him pounding into you to release all that anger.

‘I’m sorry Matt’ you feel tears running down your face being overwhelmed with the emotions running through you. ‘I just get so angry and take it out on you but I love you.’

‘I know baby you took me so well though you were so good.’ He wipes away a few of your tears smiling at you. ‘You have to ignore him though okay and listen to me when I tell you to calm down.’ You nod your head knowing if there is anyone in this earth that has the potential to tame your rage it’s only going to be him.

[arjwrites]

Times You Threatened to Kill Dean Winchester- Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: A brief account of all the times you wanted to kill a certain hunter.

Warnings: Language, character death, thoughts of suicide, references to sex, threats... A good mix of fluff and angst! Word Count: 2.3k A/N: This one was a labor of love! I have a few other fics in the works as per a few requests I have received, but this one was speaking to me tonight, so I sat down to write it! Please enjoy- in the meantime, your requests are coming soon! <3

-

“Dean Winchester, I could just KILL you!” 

You were extremely familiar with the Winchester boys’ prank wars by now. You had been witness to a few different cycles of this behavior over the many years you had known them- in fact, if someone were to dig through the old cardboard box you kept hidden in the spare room at Bobby’s, they’d probably find a few faded teenage pictures of a bald Sam after Dean snuck Nair into his shampoo, or a sleeping Dean with some sharpie-d enhancements adorning his face. But up until now, you had always kept to the sidelines. Time and time again, you claimed Switzerland to avoid their shenanigans, because it always got way too out of hand.

But today, when you climbed out of bed, still groggy with sleep, stepping into the bathroom of your shared motel room, an entire bucket’s worth of ice water that had been balanced atop the door came crashing down on you. The sensation sent a shockwave through your whole body, and from the noise that escaped your lips, you would’ve thought you had been shot. And to add insult to injury, the bucket itself smacked against your head on its way down. 

So to start your day, you were soaking wet, freezing, pissed off, and nursing a swelling bump atop your head. A blind rage filled your body. You knew it had to have been Dean, it was his turn to retaliate after Sam had messed with the stereo in the Impala so that it only played Barbie Girl. It had been a long, silent ride home after last night’s hunt. 

“Dean Winchester, you are a dead man!” The words came bursting out of you as you stormed your way out of the bathroom.

“What did I- Oh my GOD. That wasn’t for you.” Dean’s eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his head. He knew he had fucked up. 

The first thing to go flying across the room was the bucket, which nailed Dean in the chest with an anticlimactic thud. You followed close behind it. At full speed, you sprinted into Dean, knocking him back onto the bed behind him.

“Get off me! You’re soaking wet!” Dean protested, throwing his arms between you two in an effort to shield himself. 

“Yeah, how do you like it?” You weren’t going to back down. 

So that is how you ended up wrestling with Dean. You put up a surprisingly good fight for a lot longer than you expected, able to overpower him via sheer force of will. Once Dean got his bearings, though, he flipped you over, hovering on top of you and pinning you to the bed by your wrists. You held an intense eye contact for a brief moment while you each caught your breath. In doing so, you came to the mutual realization that this was ridiculous. You didn’t know who cracked the smile first, but as Dean’s grew, so did yours, until you were grinning like idiots and erupting into laughter.

“You know, this isn’t what I meant when I said I wanted you wet and in my bed,” Dean raised his eyebrows and tossed you a sly wink.

“Yup, I’m doing it. I am killing you.” 

-

“Dean I swear to God, if you keep me cooped up in this motel room for one more minute I am going to lose my mind.” 

“Would you relax? Sam and I are almost back at the witch’s house. We’ll gank her, it’ll reverse the spell, you’ll be right as rain.”

“God I hope so. This is driving me up the wall. I will never watch another second of daytime TV after this.” With the press of a button, you hung up the phone and tossed it across the room onto the bed. This was getting seriously old.

While taking on a vengeful spirit case, you and the Winchesters had run into a particularly pesky witch. Long story short, she cast a spell at you, and none of you could figure out what it was. It was driving you crazy, and what was driving you crazier was that the boys had locked you in the motel room for two days while they tracked the witch back down. All around town, all over the area, until they finally caught her trail heading back to her own house. Where they had started.

The problem was, you felt fine. You really didn’t think there was anything wrong with you. You wanted to get out there and help them, do some research, go to the damn grocery store, literally anything. But Sam and Dean had insisted that the safest thing for you to do was to stay behind. We don’t know what she did to you, Y/N. It could be dangerous for you to leave. It’s better if you stay here and do absolutely nothing. It made sense, to an extent, you just weren’t very happy about it. 

After a few hours and several more episodes of the most mind-numbing daytime talk shows you could imagine, you heard the sound of keys jingling and the motel door creeping open. In came Dean, wearing a strange expression on his face. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought it was fear.

“So? Ding dong, the witch is dead, I don’t have to blow my brains out?” You asked, more than ready to be done with the whole fiasco.

“Um.” Dean was avoiding eye contact. His hands slipped into his pocket and he sucked in a long, sharp breath.

“Dean.” 

“So, uh, maybe…” He slipped a hand across his mouth, stalling his words. “Look, you might have to stick around here for one more day. We uh, think she might be in the town over, but we kind of lost her trail.”

On the car ride back to the motel, Dean had prepared for you to react by yelling, screaming, hitting, anything to unleash the anger he knew was coming. In fact, that was why Sam had waited in the car- to give him a little time to break the news. But in front of Dean was something much, much scarier. Your jaw was clenched, your gaze was distant, and your eyes narrowed. You were just… sitting there. The silence lasted for what felt like ages. It was enough to send the man spiraling. Finally, you looked up.

“Dean?” 

“... Yes?”

“You better kill that witch tomorrow before I kill you.”

“Duly noted.”

- 

Losing Sam had been just about the worst thing that could have ever happened to any of you. Watching him fall to his knees after Jake backstabbed him, Dean cradling him as the life finally slipped from his body… It brought you to tears just thinking about it. You had loved Sam like a little brother. But as much as it tore you up inside, his death had happened. So goes the life of a hunter. It was time to let Sam rest. 

Dean, however, had still refused to make peace with the loss of his brother. It had been several days and Sam’s lifeless body was still laying out on a mattress. Dean just couldn’t let go. You and Bobby had begged him to let you lay Sam to rest, but he simply wasn’t having it. Dean was angry, defensive, and hurt, far deeper than you had ever seen. After conferring privately with each other, you and Bobby figured maybe it would be best to give him a little time alone with Sam, for closure’s sake. 

So a day later when Sam Winchester, live and in the flesh, waltzed into the room to thank you and Bobby for patching up his wound without so much as a second thought, your heart dropped like a rock. The feeling that washed over you was worse than any grief you had felt this past week. Of course, it was amazing to have Sam back- it felt like a miracle. But miracles don’t just happen, especially not to Winchesters. And when you looked to Dean, he refused to meet your eyes.

Not wanting to alert Sam of the situation, you made an excuse to get Dean to follow you outside. You trudged as far as you could in silence, you not daring to look in his direction, until you knew you were out of earshot from the house. 

“What did you do, Dean?” Your back was still turned, and your voice was hardly a whisper. You were surprised Dean could hear you at all.

“Y/N-”

“What did you DO? How long did they give you?” The question ripped from your chest, but you weren’t sure you were ready to hear the answer. 

“A year.” 

One year. You dropped to the ground. The gravel dug into your skin, but all your senses were numbed with hurt. You wanted to ask what made him think he could do this- to Bobby, to Sammy, to you? But when you opened your mouth to speak, the ache that resonated through your chest stifled the words.

Dean slid down next to you in silence. He wrapped a single arm around you, and you leaned your head into him. All you could do was cry silent, heavy tears. For what felt like hours, there was nothing you could say. The pit in your stomach swirled back and forth from anger to despair to fear, culminating in a blinding nausea. You looked up at Dean, who simply stared straight ahead. There was a staggering coldness in his eyes that drove the knife further into your core.  

“God damn it Dean Winchester, I could just kill you myself, right now.” 

“You’ll have to get in line, sweetheart.” 

-

If you thought a few days without Sam had been bad, four whole months without Dean was your own personal hell. After Dean’s time was up, you couldn’t bear to be around anyone who reminded you of him. You hadn't spoken to Bobby or Sam or any other hunters- any other people, for that matter. You had practically dug yourself a grave, isolated from the world around you, lost and in the dark. 

This was the worst hurt you had ever felt in your life. Four months later and the wound in your heart was just as fresh as the day it arrived there. Every time it began to heal, one wrong move and it started aching, throbbing, bleeding again. But at this point, the pain was all you had left of Dean. So you let it bleed. 

The knock on the motel room door did nothing to stir you from your place in bed. It had been days, maybe a week, since you had risen for anything but your basic needs. You had called the front desk to extend your stay multiple times, running up a scammed credit card Dean had probably given to you at some point. There was nowhere else for you to go, so you laid down weary roots right here. 

The knock persisted but you remained still. It could’ve been the police, the president, or the pope and you couldn’t have cared any less. Go away. There was a clanging noise followed by the shifting of the lock’s mechanisms. Whoever it was, they were breaking into your room. A few months ago, you would’ve jumped into action, but all of your hunter self-preservation instincts were long gone. Whoever it was could come in and take whatever they wanted and shoot you dead in the process. Maybe they’d be doing you a favor. 

You rolled over in bed as the door creaked open, prepared to lay eyes on whoever was here to bring your demise. However, you were met with the one face that could have coaxed you out of the bed. The face you hadn’t seen in four months. The look in his eyes teemed with love and longing, which made your stomach churn. 

“This is a real sick joke.”

“No, Y/N, it’s-” 

For the first time since before Dean’s death, you snapped into hunter-mode, rising to your feet and snatching holy water and a knife from the bag under your bed in the process. It was a little slow, a little clumsy, and clearly a bit out of practice.

“You know, I was about to let whoever you were come right in and kill me. What reason do I have to stick around anymore? But this- this is just sick.” You laughed- your first laugh in months, and yet nothing was funny. 

“It’s me, Y/N, I-”

“No. I’m going to kill you now.” And you lunged, splashing holy water with one hand and thrusting the knife with the other. 

When Dean caught your hand before the knife could strike him, twisting your arm to defend himself from your lackluster attack, it took you longer than it should have to realize that the holy water hadn’t fazed him. Before it registered, you struggled against his grasp, but months of malnutrition and stagnant muscles had left you weak. You cried out as you fought, before fully dissolving into tears and dropping the knife in a mix of defeat and acceptance. Dean placed two heavy hands on your shoulders as if to ground you back in the moment.

“It’s me. I swear.” The beads of holy water that rolled off his face paralleled the tears that rolled off yours. Your hand reached up to wipe a droplet away- partially out of habit, partially to test that he was real, that he wouldn’t disappear at your touch. He didn’t. Instead, both his hands planted on your face, matching your movement. 

“Oh, Dean.” That was the only way you could express it. Dean. Here, real, standing in front of you, and not a demon. Just pure Dean. 

“Hi sweetheart,” he whispered, and it felt like home. He pulled you into a gentle hug, as if he harbored the same fear as you- that you may disappear beneath his very touch. But you were real, and so was he. You wouldn’t disappear, and neither would he. Dean was back, and because of that, you were back too.

“Good thing you didn’t kill me, right?” 

[sadnymi]

August p2

[Mattheo riddle x reader] [part-one]

Summary: all y/n wanted is to love and to be loved to see the beauty of the world and to be happy even if that's mean she will have to hide away, until that summer the summer she talked to mattheo riddle.

Words: 9k

Warnings:, Angst , fluff, strong language, light smut.

It was like I found myself in the middle—I couldn't go back to what I was and I still couldn't move forward. There was only one thing on my mind: anger, anger, anger, anger.

My thoughts broke as I heard Professor Snape assigning us to pairs for a dueling exercise. I lifted my head from my book and found a pair of green eyes on me—Betty. She was watching me so intently that she didn’t notice I saw her staring. When she realized, she shook her head and looked away, her hands trembling.

"Miss Y/L/N," Professor Snape called my name, and I got up, walking to stand behind him, waiting for him to call the other student I would have to duel.

"And. Riddle, come please," Professor Snape said.

My expression remained unchanged, though my heart felt like it was about to leap out of my chest. My anxiety was high, my blood pressure rising, and the anger—the endless anger—but I stayed calm, looking unbothered, like a frozen child. It was an art I was well-versed in, thanks to my father.

Everyone gasped and couldn't stop talking. I looked up to meet his brown eyes, the eyes I told myself I hated every day to remind myself of their betrayal.

I didn’t look away. I met his gaze head-on, staring straight into his eyes as if trying to pierce his soul. He didn't deserve my avoidance; he deserved to feel my anger.

Professor Snape spoke—at least I guess he did—but my mind was elsewhere. All I could think about was anger and anger and anger, water drops and brown eyes, betrayal.

Mattheo stepped back, taking his place, and I did the same. I raised my wand, but he kept his lowered. I looked him in the eyes and cast the first spell. He dodged it but didn’t fight back. He wasn’t trying to fight.

My anger grew. I moved faster, casting spells more quickly and aggressively. He kept dodging but never retaliated.

I could see the way Professor Snape looked at him, and the way Mattheo’s friends called out to him, urging him to defend himself. But he didn’t. He just kept dodging, fueling my rage.

"Fight back, you fucking coward!" I yelled, angry, but he didn’t.

With a swift flick of my wand, I disarmed him, sending his wand flying across the room. up in alarm as I advanced on him, faster and angrier. I hit him in the chest.

"Coward, fucking coward," I said. Professor Snape called my name, but I didn’t stop.

I hit him again. "Selfish, arrogant, deceitful," I continued, my words venomous.

Professor Snape finally pulled me away. "You always made everything about you, Riddle, didn’t you?" I screamed.

"Miss Y/L/N," Professor Snape began, his tone icy. "This behavior is unacceptable. You will serve detention for this outburst."

I glared at Mattheo. "Oh, believe me, I have nothing better to do,"

One of the students, a Slytherin boy named Mark, snickered and muttered loudly enough for everyone to hear, "Guess Riddle's got a soft spot for Backup girl."

I looked at him sharply. No—don’t—just go away—hide, Y/N, hide. Don’t let them see you. That’s enough. No.

I stepped forward, my voice steady. "Say it again, Mark."

He looked taken aback, but his bravado held. "I said, Riddle's got a soft spot for Backup girl."

"You know," I said, my voice cutting through the air, "I’ve been quiet, but not blind. And I didn’t have much to do this summer but sit at the beach and watch. And I watched a lot."

I turned to look at the faces around me, the same faces that had called me a slut, a whore, a homewrecker. They were all watching me now, some with curiosity, others with apprehension.

"I could say that one of you sitting there cheated on her boyfriend with all three of his friends, and they’re sitting right next to him right now. But I didn’t, did I? Should I?"

The room filled with gasps and whispers, eyes darting around to see who I was talking about.

"And I could say that one of you had a very interesting make-out session with his stepmother this summer. But I won’t do that." I paused, looking around. "Hint: he’s a Hufflepuff. Go with that. And wow, didn’t know you had that in you, if I’m being honest."

I saw more shock and outrage spread through the crowd, people trying to figure out who I meant. I continued, enjoying their discomfort.

"I could tell you that another one of you, who’s sitting there looking all innocent, spent the entire summer sneaking out at night to hook up with their best friend’s boyfriend. And yet another had an affair with their cousin’s fiancé, not caring about the wedding that was about to happen. Should I go on?"

The whispers grew louder, people trying to piece together the gossip. Professor Snape called my name again, more harshly this time, but I ignored him, taking a step back.

The room was buzzing now, everyone trying to figure out who the guilty parties were. I could see the fear and anger in their eyes.

"Maybe it’s time for everyone to stop judging others and take a good look at themselves. Maybe next time, you should think twice before you start throwing stones."

Professor Snape finally reached me, his hand gripping my arm tightly. "Enough, Miss Y/L/N. That’s quite enough, you will go to Professor Dumbledore’s office immediately."

"Of course, Professor."

I walked out, glaring at Mattheo on my way. There was a ghost of a smile on his face, and I wanted to smack it off. I wanted to say more, to hurt him, to make him feel the same agony tearing through my soul.

A week had passed, and the gossip had finally died down. The whispers and judgmental stares began to fade. The looks of disdain I received whenever I walked down the corridors diminished. It was as if everyone had finally moved on to the next scandal.

I was sitting alone under a tree in the courtyard, trying to read a book but barely absorbing the words. The shadow of someone approaching made me glance up. It was Enzo. He sat down next to me with a casual smile. "Hi, Y/N."

I didn't respond, keeping my eyes on the page.

"Okay, I get it. You hate me too now," he said, sighing dramatically.

I still didn't acknowledge him. He tried again, "Y/N, I’m—"

"Unwelcome," I cut him off sharply, closing my book with a snap. "Now leave."

He chuckled "Ouch, that stings. You know, that cold shoulder of yours is kinda cute," he said, leaning back on his hands. "I always did like a challenge."

I rolled my eyes but didn’t respond, unwilling to engage.

"I won't defend my brother. Even I didn't know it was a break. It seemed serious, and I really thought they broke up this time. Honestly, I wished they did."

I finally looked up at him, my expression guarded.

He continued,"Mattheo and Betty have known each other their entire lives. She was always there for him, and he for her. They faced the darkness of our world together, and I think somewhere along the way, the lines blurred between them. They hurt each other in ways no one else could. They always break up and then get back together within a week. It’s a fucked-up situation, and they keep running it into the ground, thinking they're saving it. Maybe they don't want to lose each other, but that isn’t love. It’s—"

"It doesn’t matter," I interrupted. "He knows, and that’s enough."

"I didn’t know it was just a break, but I was angry because I didn’t think he should get involved with someone else so soon after."

I glanced up, catching sight of Mattheo standing a short distance away, watching us. His eyes bore into mine, intense and filled with an emotion I couldn’t decipher. He then shifted his gaze to Enzo, and I felt a surge of tension, almost palpable in the air. Mattheo’s expression was a mix of anger and something deeper, more primal. His presence was overpowering, and for a moment, I felt heat creep up my neck.

Enzo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know you’re angry, and you have every right to be. But Mattheo... He’s not the villain in this story either. He’s complicated, broken even. And I can’t say what he did was right, but he’s— he’s not as heartless as you think there’s more ."

I glanced up again, and Mattheo was still watching us, his gaze burning.

"But he’s never been happier," Enzo finished, his words hanging in the air.

"Never been happier," Enzo repeated softly, his eyes searching mine. "It means something, doesn’t it? Despite everything, it means something."

"i have to go , but thanks Enzo," I said softly, walking away without looking back.

As I made my way toward the dormitory, I felt a presence behind me. My grip tightened on my bag, and I quickened my pace, hoping to outdistance whoever it was. But the footsteps behind me only grew louder and more determined.

Adrian Pucey appeared, sauntering over with that cocky grin Slytherins seem to be born with. "Well, well, if it isn’t the infamous Y/N Y/L/N," he said, falling into step beside me as I made my way to my dorm. "Mind if I join you?"

I didn’t answer, keeping my eyes forward, hoping he’d take the hint and leave me alone.

"Silent treatment, huh?" Adrian said with a chuckle, clearly not deterred. "You know, that only makes me more interested."

I sighed, quickening my pace slightly. "Go away, Pucey."

But of course, he didn’t. Slytherins never could take a hint. He leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, I’ve always had a thing for girls who don’t care what anyone else thinks. You’ve certainly got everyone talking."

I ignored him, still refusing to look up.

"Come on, Y/N, don’t be like that," Adrian pressed, his tone light and teasing. "You’re just going to walk away and let me bore you? I thought you were more fun than that."

Finally, I lost my patience. I stopped dead in my tracks, spinning on my heel to face him. In one swift motion, I pulled out my wand and pressed it under his chin. "I said, go away."

Adrian didn’t flinch; in fact, his grin widened. "You know, you’re even more beautiful when you’re angry."

I rolled my eyes, about to push him away for good, but then Adrian said something that caught me off guard. "For what it’s worth, I don’t give a damn about what they’re saying at school. People talk; it’s what they do. But I prefer forming my own opinions."

I paused, the wand still under his chin, studying his face. He looked sincere, in his own way—at least as sincere as a Slytherin could be.

"And what’s your opinion, then?" I asked.

"That you’re more interesting than any of them. And that I’d rather be here getting cursed by you than be anywhere else."

I couldn’t help it—I laughed. It wasn’t the reaction I expected, but something about his audacity and the ridiculousness of the situation just got to me.

Adrian raised an eyebrow, clearly pleased with himself. "See? I knew you had a sense of humor."

I shook my head, lowering my wand. "You’re insufferable, Pucey."

He took a step back, giving me a mock bow. "Thank you, I try."

Despite myself, I found the corners of my mouth twitching into a smile.

There was something disarming about him, and from that moment on, we fell into a sort of reluctant friendship. He had a knack for making me laugh when I least expected it, and I found myself tolerating his presence more than I would have admitted.

Days passed and we get even more closer he was the first friend I ever had besides Riddle ( we agree not to talk about him in this house).

It was strange, almost welcome, having someone who didn’t treat me like I was fragile or a pariah. As much as I hated to admit it, Adrian’s lightheartedness was exactly what I needed, a distraction from the complicated mess my life had become.

Adrian caught up to me in the corridor, a smug grin plastered on his face. "Y/N, you’re not going to believe what happened last night," he said, his voice full of mischief.

I didn’t slow my pace, only glancing at him briefly before looking ahead again. "Do I even want to know?"

He laughed, clearly delighted by my disinterest. "I hooked up with a Gryffindor."

I raised an eyebrow, not bothering to hide my skepticism. "Congratulations. I’m sure that’s a new personal best for you."

He opened his mouth but I was faster, already knowing where this was going. “Adrian, you don’t need to broadcast every conquest.”

He rolled his eyes at my sarcasm but didn’t seem bothered by it. "Stop walking for a second. I need to see your reaction when I say the next part."

I sighed, finally coming to a halt and turning to face him. "Fine, what is it?"

Adrian leaned in, his grin widening as if he was about to reveal the juiciest piece of gossip. "Haven’t you heard? Your pretty boy and—"

I cut him off, correcting him for what felt like the millionth time. "He’s not my boy, Adrian. And for your information, if he heard you calling him 'pretty boy,' he’d cut your tongue out."

Adrian laughed, not at all intimidated. "Not if I used 'your' before it."

"He’s not my boy," I repeated firmly, crossing my arms over my chest. "And he has a girlfriend too, so that’s disrespectful."

"Dammit, if you’d just listen for once," Adrian said, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation. "And you say you’re a good listener."

"I am a good listener."

"Good listener, my ass," Adrian muttered, shaking his head. "Anyway, back to what I was trying to say—Riddle and Betty broke up."

His words hung in the air, and I blinked, trying to process what he’d just said. "What?"

"They broke up," Adrian repeated, more slowly this time, as if I hadn’t heard him the first time.

For a moment, I felt a pang of confusion, but then Enzo’s words echoed in my mind, along with what everyone always said about them.

"They always do, Adrian. Give them a week."

He cut me off this time, his tone more serious. "No, they did break up. For good this time. She was kissing Cedric last night, so it’s official. They’re done. I don’t know how people do that—stay friends with their exes."

I blinked, processing his words,but I kept my expression neutral. "You’re still friends with half of your exes."

Adrian shrugged, not missing a beat. "And I never said it’s a good thing."

I let out a short laugh, shaking my head at his honesty. "You’re a piece of work, Pucey."

He grinned, clearly enjoying the banter. "I try. Speaking of which, there’s a big game this week. You should come see me practice. I want to show off a bit. Everyone else has a girlfriend in the stands—I want to prove I’m at least capable of getting my friend to watch."

I narrowed my eyes at him, suspicious of his intentions. "You’re just trying to get me and Mattheo in the same place, aren’t you?"

He chuckled, unashamed. "A little scheming never hurt anyone. But no, I really do want my friend there."

I hesitated, not really wanting to get involved, but Adrian’s persistence was hard to ignore. "I don’t know, Adrian…"

"Come on, Y/N," he coaxed, his tone playful but with a hint of sincerity. "It’ll be fun, and I could use the support. Plus, you can make fun of me if I screw up. It’s a win-win."

I rolled my eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. "Fine. But don’t expect me to cheer or anything."

Adrian’s grin grew wider. "Deal. I knew I could count on you."

After classes, I made my way to the Quidditch pitch, feeling a bit out of place as I climbed the stands to watch the practice. It wasn’t something I usually did, and the familiar tension in my chest was a reminder that I was here because of Adrian’s persistence, not because I actually wanted to be.

I settled into a seat, scanning the field. It didn’t take long for Adrian to spot me. He grinned widely, waving enthusiastically from his broom. I couldn’t help but wave back, but my eyes weren’t really on him—they were on Mattheo.

He was standing off to the side, his broom in hand, looking between me and Adrian with a gaze that made my heart skip a beat. His jaw clenched, his expression darkening the moment he noticed me there. The intensity in his eyes was undeniable, and I could feel the weight of his stare even from across the pitch.

The practice started, but it felt like it was just background noise to the tension simmering between us. Every time I glanced down, Mattheo’s eyes were on me, glaring with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. I tried to focus on the game, on the way Adrian was zipping around the field, but my attention kept drifting back to Mattheo. The way his muscles tensed, the way his grip on his broom tightened—it was clear that something was brewing under the surface.

And then it happened. As the players flew around, Mattheo’s aggression grew, particularly toward Adrian. Every move he made was sharper, more forceful, like he was aiming to prove something. Adrian noticed it too and finally had enough. After one particularly hard shove from Mattheo during a pass.

"What’s your problem, Riddle?" Adrian snapped, his voice loud enough to cut through the sounds of the practice.

Mattheo’s response was a slow, sinister smirk, the kind that sent a chill down my spine. "You’re in my way, Pucey," he said, his voice dripping with malice.

Adrian narrowed his eyes. "What’s the matter, can’t handle a little competition? Or is it something else?"

The coach called out their names, warning them to get back in the game, but neither of them listened. The tension between them was palpable, thickening the air around us.

Their friends, Theo, Enzo, and even Draco, walked over, trying to diffuse the situation, but it was clear Mattheo wasn’t in the mood for peace.

"Careful, Riddle," Adrian taunted, leaning in slightly as if sharing a secret. "Wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re losing your edge."

Mattheo’s smirk widened, his eyes flashing with a dangerous light. "Maybe you should keep that big mouth of yours shut before I shut it for you."

Before anyone could react, Mattheo’s fist connected with Adrian’s face, sending him reeling backward. The blow was quick and brutal, and Adrian barely had time to recover before Mattheo hit him again, this time with his broom handle, right across the jaw.

Adrian staggered, blood dripping from his lip, but he still managed to look up at Mattheo with a defiant grin. "That all you got?"

Mattheo didn’t reply with words. His eyes gleamed with that same dark amusement as he struck Adrian again, this time even harder. The crack of the impact echoed across the pitch, drawing gasps from the other players.

"Enough!" the coach roared, finally reaching them and shoving the two apart. "Both of you, out of here, now!"

Adrian wiped the blood from his mouth, glaring at Mattheo. "Always knew you were a psycho, Riddle," he muttered under his breath.

Mattheo just smirked again, his eyes briefly flicking up to meet mine before he turned and walked off the pitch, leaving chaos in his wake.

I sat on the common room sofa, gently pressing a cold ice pack against Adrian’s bruised cheek. His face scrunched up in pain, and he let out a frustrated groan. "For fuck’s sake, Y/N, he’s crazy."

"Yeah, so I noticed," I muttered, not really looking at him.

Adrian smirked, despite the pain. "He was jealous. I know it." His grin widened. "How cute is that, huh? Jealous over our friendship, baby?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "You’re so delusional, Pucey."

He winced as I pushed the ice pack a bit too firmly against his cheek. "Ouch! Careful, you’re supposed to be helping, not making it worse."

"Maybe if you stopped running your mouth, you wouldn’t be in this situation," I shot back, pushing him away.

He clutched his chest dramatically. "Oh, the betrayal! First Riddle, now you! And after I took a beating for you ? I’m wounded, Y/N."

Shaking my head, I stood up. "You’ll live."

I left the common room, needing to clear my head. The hallways were mostly empty, the late hour ensuring that most students were either in their common rooms or asleep. I walked with purpose, looking for him.

It didn’t take long to find Mattheo. He was outside, leaning against the cold stone wall, a cigarette between his fingers. The flame from his lighter flickered as he lit it, the orange glow briefly illuminating his face. He looked up when he heard my footsteps, his eyes darkening with recognition.

I didn’t hesitate. I marched right up to him and slapped him across the face.

Mattheo’s head snapped to the side, but when he looked back at me, he was smiling—almost as if he was amused. He licked his lower lip, that dangerous smirk still playing on his mouth. "Nice to see you too, darling."

I glared at him, my hand still stinging. "What the hell is wrong with you, Riddle? You think you can just go around punching people because you’re pissed off?"

He chuckled softly, taking another drag from his cigarette. "I think you’re overreacting. Pucey can handle himself."

"I don’t care about you or your bullshit. But you better stay away from me and my friends."

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he studied me. "Your friends?" he echoed, a mocking tone to his voice. "Or just Adrian?"

I froze for a split second, then recovered. "Stay away from Adrian."

His expression darkened, jealousy flaring in his eyes. "So, it’s Adrian now, is it?" His voice was low, dangerous. "He’s not good for you."

I almost laughed at the absurdity of it. "And who is, Mattheo? You?"

His jaw clenched, but he said nothing. I shook my head, trying to push past him. "I can’t even look at your face right now."

Before I could get far, he grabbed my hand, pulling me back with enough force to spin me around and shove me against the cold stone wall. My breath caught as the rough surface bit into my back.

His face was inches from mine, his grip on my wrist firm but not painful. "You don’t get it, do you?" His voice was low, dangerous, but there was a desperate edge to it that I hadn’t expected. "Adrian is a womanizer. He’s got a new girl every week, Y/N. Is that the kind of friend you want?"

I scoffed, yanking my wrist out of his grasp. "And you’re any better?You’re no saint."

Mattheo’s eyes flashed with something dark, and he leaned in even closer, his breath warm against my skin. "No I’m not."

I stared at him, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions in his eyes. He was so angry, so desperate to convince me that Adrian was bad for me.

"And he has a small dick," Mattheo muttered, almost as if it was an afterthought.

I blinked, my brain struggling to catch up with what he’d just said. "What?"

Mattheo’s expression didn’t change. "You heard me. He’s got a small dick."

I stared at him, utterly baffled. "How do you even know that?"

He shrugged, his tone completely nonchalant. "Changing room. We play on the same team remember?"

I couldn’t believe this conversation was actually happening. "Mattheo, what the actual fuck? I don’t want to talk about my friend’s dick. That’s just… weird."

But Mattheo didn’t respond, his eyes still locked on mine, his gaze piercing through the tension that hung between us. I could feel my breath hitch in my chest, and when I finally spoke, my voice was low and strained. "You’re starting," I said, the weight of our past heavy in my words.

He nodded, his voice equally subdued. "I’m starting."

I tried to push him away, desperate to put some distance between us, but he caught my wrist gently, his touch both tender and firm.

"I wish I didn’t stop that night and left you on that road."

Mattheo didn’t blink, didn’t try to interrupt me. He just stood there, absorbing every word like a punch to the gut.

"Do you know what happens to people like me when they get their hopes up? They pay. And I did."

The pain of those days, of that heartbreak, surged back, choking me as I tried to continue.

"No one blamed you. No one called you the things they called me. And I—" My voice cracked, and I couldn’t bring myself to finish. The words were too heavy, too raw.

"I lied," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion.

"I know you—" I began, but he cut me off, his words coming out in a rush.

"No, I lied when I said I knew we were on a break. We weren’t. It was really over. I lied to you that day in my house. That was the only time I lied to you," he said, and for a brief moment, I almost believed him. But then I remembered everything—the pain, the betrayal, the way he’d left me shattered. I pushed him away, shaking my head.

"I don’t believe you," I said, my voice hard, trying to build a wall around my heart.

"I know you don’t," he replied, his tone soft, resigned. "But I’m not playing games with you. I never did —“

I started to walk away, trying to block out his words, trying to keep my heart from breaking all over again. But his voice stopped me, laced with a vulnerability I hadn’t expected.

"For a long time, I thought I knew what I wanted, but I didn’t. Even for someone like me, I tried to play it safe, and dammit, you were no safe choice."

His words confused me, and I turned to look at him, my brow furrowing. "What?"

He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving mine. "You made my heart beat faster. You made my breath hitch with just a look in your eyes. You made me feel things I didn’t want to feel, things I didn’t know I was capable of feeling."

I stood frozen, trying to process everything he was saying.

"You were everything I didn’t know I needed," Mattheo continued, his voice trembling slightly. "But all I did was hurt you. And I hate myself for it."

"Mattheo…"

He closed the distance between us, his hand reaching out to gently cup my cheek.

I wanted to pull away, to protect myself from the whirlwind of emotions his words were stirring up, but I couldn’t move. His touch, his words—they held me in place, and all I could do was stand there, my heart pounding in my chest.

His thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped down my cheek, I searched his eyes, looking for any sign of deception, any hint that he was just saying what he thought I wanted to hear. But all I saw was sincerity, raw and unfiltered.

Then he kissed me.

It wasn’t soft or tentative—it was fierce, urgent, like he was pouring all of the things he couldn’t say into that kiss. His hands roamed down my back, gripping my waist as he pressed me harder against the wall, and I felt my resolve crumbling with every passing second.

I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe—there was only Mattheo and the heat of his mouth on mine, the feel of his body against me. His tongue traced my bottom lip, and I opened up for him, a moan escaping as he deepened the kiss, his hand tangling in my hair.

The intensity of it all was dizzying, making my head spin as I gave in to the raw, unfiltered desire between us.

Every touch, every kiss, only fanned the flames higher, and I found myself wanting more, needing more.

But then, reality crashed back in.

I pulled away abruptly, gasping for air, my heart pounding in my chest. "No," I whispered, shaking my head as I backed away from him, my hands trembling. "I can’t—I shouldn’t…"

I had to get out of there, away from him, away from the mess of emotions he stirred up inside me.

Without another word, I turned and ran, my footsteps echoing down the empty hallway as I fled from the confusion and the undeniable pull he had over me. My chest was tight, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting feelings as I put as much distance between us as possible.

But even as I ran, the taste of his kiss lingered on my lips, a reminder of the fire I couldn’t seem to escape.

The next day, I found myself sitting in the common room, staring blankly at the fireplace, my thoughts a jumbled mess. I was trying to focus on anything other than the way Mattheo's lips had felt on mine, or the fact that I had practically bolted from him like a coward. But just as I was about to lose myself in those thoughts again, Adrian plopped down beside me, his face twisted in a mix of disbelief and outrage.

"He said I have a small dick!" Adrian practically shouted, his voice echoing off the walls. "Can you believe that? The nerve!"

I blinked, trying to process his words. "What?"

Adrian waved his hands around dramatically, still caught up in his rant. "Mattheo! He said I have a small dick! That’s a fucking lie!"

I stared at him, fighting the urge to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. "Adrian, really? That’s what you’re focused on right now?"

Adrian didn’t seem to hear me. He was on a roll, pacing back and forth, gesticulating wildly as he continued his tirade. "I mean, where does he get off saying that? He thinks just because he’s got that whole brooding, bad-boy thing going on he can go around spreading lies"

"Okay," I said, trying to cut in, but Adrian was too worked up to be interrupted.

"And it’s not even true!" he exclaimed, as if I needed convincing. "I mean, who does he think he is? Mr. Big Shot Riddle with his—"

"Adrian," I tried again, louder this time.

But he was still going. "I swear, I’m going to hex him next time I see him. No, I’m going to curse him. I’m going to—"

"Adrian!" I finally snapped, and he paused mid-rant, looking at me with wide eyes.

"What?"

"I believe you," I said, my voice firm. "I swear, I believe you. But can we focus, please? I’ve got bigger problems than Mattheo’s opinion on your… anatomy."

Adrian huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he flopped down beside me again. "Yeah, fine. Whatever. But seriously, what an ass."

I rolled my eyes, trying to push aside the urge to laugh. "Dammit, Adrian. Focus."

He sighed, finally calming down. "Alright, alright. What did you want to talk about?"

I hesitated, the memory of Mattheo’s kiss still fresh in my mind. "That he… he kissed me."

Adrian’s eyes went wide. "Wait, what? He kissed you?"

"That’s what I was trying to say."

"Yes, but can we get back to the part where he called my dick small?" Adrian cut in, as if he couldn’t let it go.

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. "Adrian, for the love of Merlin—"

"Fine, fine," he grumbled, finally dropping it. "But for the record, that’s total bullshit."

Even though Betty and Mattheo still looked close, like the good friends they always had been, something had shifted. It was official—they had broken up. Their nearly lifelong relationship, which had been a toxic whirlwind of drama and passion, was finally over. Betty seemed fine, maybe even relieved, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was better at hiding things than I was.

Cedric, on the other hand, was the exact opposite of Mattheo in every way. He was calm, reliable, and safe. It made me wonder how Betty could jump from someone like Mattheo to someone like Cedric without a hitch.

She had spent so much of her life tangled up with Mattheo, and from what I’d heard, it hadn’t been easy. It had been intense, full of ups and downs, yet here she was, seemingly unscathed. I wished I could say the same for myself.

A week passed, and things were surprisingly... quiet. Well, except for Adrian, who couldn’t stop yapping about "that fucker trying to spread misinformation about his dick." It was a constant source of frustration for him, and honestly, the way he went on about it was almost comical.

Every time we crossed paths, Adrian would find some way to bring it up. “I mean, seriously, Y/N,” he’d start, completely exasperated, “the audacity of that asshole! He’s out there spreading outright lies! I should charge him with defamation or something.”

I couldn’t help but snicker. “Defamation?”

“Of character!” Adrian insisted, as if he’d been gravely wronged. “Or defamation of… of something! It’s not just about the dick thing, it’s about the principle!”

“Right, the principle,” I’d say, trying to keep a straight face.

He wasn’t having any of it. “This isn’t funny, Y/N! Misinformation like this can ruin a guy’s reputation!”

Despite his outrage, it was hard to take him seriously when he’d throw phrases like “my honor is at stake” into the mix. I kept telling him to let it go, but that was like asking a Kneazle not to pounce on a mouse.

Meanwhile, I was doing my best to avoid two things: my father’s letters and Mattheo. The former had been piling up, unopened and ignored, on my bedside table. I just couldn’t bring myself to deal with whatever he had to say, not when everything else felt like it was spiraling out of control.

And then there was Mattheo. Every time I saw him in the hallways or across the common room, my heart would start racing, and I’d immediately look away, pretending I hadn’t noticed him. But I could feel his eyes on me, heavy and dark, following me even when I wasn’t looking. There was a tension in the air between us, thick and electric, like the calm before a storm.

It wasn’t just his stare that I noticed. It was something else, something impossible to ignore. Strawberries. Every meal, whether it was breakfast, lunch, or dinner, Mattheo would go for the strawberries. He’d pick them out with careful precision, eating them slowly, almost deliberately. I tried to ignore it, to push the thought out of my mind, but it lingered, nagging at me every time I saw him reach for the fruit.

In the common room, I’d catch him staring at me from across the room his eyes made my skin prickle. He’d lean back in his chair, casual and confident, as if he hadn’t a care in the world, but there was always a hint of something more beneath the surface—a challenge, a dare, as if he was waiting for me to crack.

And I hated that it worked. That I’d feel my heart race, my breath catch, every damn time.

But I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. So I kept my distance, kept my focus on anything but him.

And so the week dragged on, with Adrian’s indignant rants and Mattheo’s silent, smoldering presence, the tension between us building like a storm ready to break.

As I was lost in thought, Adrian suddenly popped up beside me, completely oblivious to the turmoil brewing in my mind. “Hey, Y/N,” he started, his tone unusually chipper. “I need you to do me a favor.”

“Not now, Adrian.”

But Adrian, being Adrian, was persistent. He grabbed my arm, a grin spreading across his face as he practically dragged me down the corridor. “Come on, it’ll only take a second.”

“Adrian, what are you—” I started to protest, but before I could finish, he had pushed me into an empty classroom. I stumbled inside, annoyance rising in my chest.

“What the hell, Adrian?” I snapped, turning around just in time to see Mattheo stepping into the classroom as well, looking equally confused. The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing in the silence.

Realization hit us like a freight train.

I bolted for the door, but it was already locked. Panic flared in my chest as I fumbled with my bag, searching for my wand, only to realize it wasn’t there. Adrian. I closed my eyes, vowing that once I got out of this room, the lies he’d been spouting about his dick would be the least of his worries.

I turned back to face Mattheo, opening my eyes. “Your wand,” I demanded, holding out my hand.

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Are you planning to kill me, love? I’m sure Enzo would be more than willing to help you out, so it wouldn’t be much of a surprise.”

His voice was dripping with that infuriating confidence, and the way he called me “love” sent a shiver down my spine. I scowled, refusing to let him see how much he affected me.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know this was going to happen,” I shot back, my voice laced with anger.

He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, as calm as ever. “You think I planned this?”

“Who else would’ve put Adrian up to something so stupid?” I spat, my frustration bubbling over.

Mattheo chuckled, shaking his head. “You give me too much credit. But if I had known, I wouldn’t have let him lock us in without a proper plan.”

“Like what?” I snapped. “Driving me insane until I can’t take it anymore?”

He took a step closer. “You’re already there, aren’t you?”

I clenched my fists, trying to keep my composure. “Yes, Unfortunately.”

He was close now, so close that I could feel the heat radiating off his body. His voice dropped to a low murmur, sending a thrill through me despite myself. “But you’re not as immune to me as you like to pretend, are you?”

I glared up at him. “Don’t flatter yourself, Mattheo.”

His smirk widened, and he leaned in even closer, his breath warm against my ear. “I don’t need to. You’re doing it for me.”

“So you say you didn’t know this was going to happen?”

He shrugged, still infuriatingly calm. “I didn’t know, but I’m not exactly complaining. We seem to keep finding ourselves in situations like this, don’t we?”

I glared at him, anger flaring up inside me. “This isn’t funny, Mattheo. I’ve had enough of your games.”

“Games?” he repeated, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. “Who said anything about games, Love?”

“Maybe I’m just trying to make the best of a bad situation,” he murmured, his eyes locked on mine with that intense, burning gaze that always made it hard to think straight.

I clenched my fists, trying to hold onto my anger, but it was slipping through my fingers like sand. “You always think you’re so clever, don’t you?”

He was closer now, so close I could feel the heat radiating off his body, the scent of him—his cologne and something darker, more dangerous—wrapping around me.

“Maybe I am clever,” he said softly, his voice a low purr that sent shivers down my spine. “Or maybe… I’m just desperate to be close to you.”

“Is that so?” I finally managed to say, my voice barely more than a whisper.

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. “It is,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. "So if you’re going to kill me, love, better do it quick… because every second I’m this close to you knowing I had you once and then lost you, I’m burning alive.”

I shoved him away with all the strength I could muster, my anger boiling over. "I feel sorry for you, you know that?" I spat out, my voice trembling with the intensity of the emotions I was barely holding in check.

He didn’t say anything, just stood there, watching me with those dark, unreadable eyes of his. And that only made it worse. “You didn’t even apologize, Mattheo,” I continued, my voice rising. “You didn’t even try. And you know why? Because you don’t know how. You don’t know how to say you’re sorry, how to admit when you’ve messed up. You don’t know how to do the right thing. It must be exhausting being a disappointment all the time.”

I wanted to hurt him, to make him feel just a fraction of the pain he’d put me through. But as the words left my mouth, a sharp pang of regret sliced through me. I hated the look on his face now—the way his eyes clouded over, the way he blinked and looked away, as if trying to shield himself from the weight of my words.

But I wasn’t done. “You have no idea how hard it was, Mattheo. To let you in, to let you see me—the real me. I showed you everything, all my scars, all my wounds. I trusted you with them. And what did you do? You added more. You just kept adding more and more until I couldn’t take it anymore.”

He finally looked at me, something in his expression shifting. Slowly, he sat down on one of the desks, the smirk that usually played on his lips completely gone. It was like a mask had dropped, and all that was left was the raw, vulnerable truth beneath.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “It is exhausting.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I stopped, taken aback, staring at him in surprise. This was different—he was different. There was no bravado, no arrogance. Just… Mattheo.

“So the worst part was letting you down,” he continued, his voice full of a sadness that I wasn’t used to hearing from him. “I was raised by anger and loud voices. But you… you’re so quiet, so pure. Dammit, Y/N, I don’t know how to love, but I know I love you.”

I opened my mouth, the anger flaring up again. “You cheated on—”

“No, Y/N, I didn’t,” he cut me off, his voice firm. “It was over. I would never do that to you, or to her. It was really over, I swear it was.” He looked me straight in the eyes, pleading silently for me to believe him. “I did go to tell her. I hated the idea of her finding out from Inez and not me. We weren’t together, I swear we weren’t.”

He paused, searching my face for any sign of understanding. “We did get together after, because we both were heartbroken and we didn’t know any other way to fix it but it wasn’t the same. It was never the same—not after you.”

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. “So I was the other woman, then?” The words tasted bitter on my tongue, the implication of what that meant, of what I had been to him, cutting deeper than I’d expected.

He shook his head. “You weren’t the other woman, Y/N. You were the one who made me realize what I wanted, what I needed. You were the one who showed me that there was more to life than just be angry, than just doing fighting for everything. You made me want more—made me want to be more. I didn’t cheat on you, because in my heart… it was you. Even when I didn’t realize it, even when I was too much of a coward to admit it, it was you. It’s still you.”

He took a deep breath, his voice softening as he continued. “I won’t lie to you, and I won’t pretend that I’m not messed up. But what I feel for you… it’s real. It’s the most real thing I’ve ever felt in my life.”

I looked at him, my breath hitching in my throat as I tried to keep the tears from spilling over. "I was raised by anger too, Mattheo," I began, my voice trembling. "But not the loud kind. It was quiet and slow, like a poison that seeps in and stays with you. It was the kind of anger that doesn’t shout but whispers, making you question everything, making you feel like you’re never enough."

I paused, struggling to get the words out, the emotions too raw, too painful. "And then you came along. You were loud, you were the voice in the silence, the one who made me feel something other than that suffocating anger. You—" My voice caught in my throat, and I couldn’t finish. Instead, I just sat down too, the weight of everything crashing down on me.

For a moment, we just sat there in silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts, in the wreckage of what we’d done to each other. Then, I started again, my voice softer, more vulnerable than it had been before.

"I lived for the hope of what was between us. I wanted so badly for it to be real, for it to be serious. I cancelled plans, stayed up late, made excuses just to see you, to be near you. I was always waiting, always hoping that this time, you’d see me, really see me. And when you did, it was like nothing else mattered. It was like you were the only thing that mattered."

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat growing tighter. "But every time I got my hopes up, I paid for it. I paid for it with every tear, with every sleepless night, with every second I spent wondering if you felt the same, if you cared as much as I did. And when it all fell apart, when you walked away, no one blamed you. No one called you the names they called me. I was the one who paid the price, while you… you just moved on."

Mattheo was silent, his gaze fixed on the floor as he absorbed my words. Finally, he spoke,"I didn’t know how to love you properly, because I didn’t know how to love at all."

He paused, his voice breaking as he continued. "But I know I love you. Even when I didn’t want to admit it, even when I tried to convince myself that I didn’t, I knew. And it scared the hell out of me. Because you deserve better, you deserve someone who knows how to love you right, who doesn’t screw it up every chance he gets."

He looked away, his hands trembling slightly as he spoke. "But I tried. Dammit, Y/N, I tried. I tried to be what you needed, what you wanted. But I failed. I failed because I didn’t know how to be that for you. And I hated myself for it. I still do."

I stared at him, my heart aching at the raw honesty in his voice, the pain that I could see etched on his face.

Tears streamed down my face, the weight of everything crashing down on me all at once. I couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t catch my breath. The room felt too small, the air too thick, and all I wanted to do was escape—to run from everything, from him, from the pain that seemed to swallow me whole.

"Y/N… love?" Mattheo’s voice broke through the haze, soft and filled with desperation as he knelt in front of me, trying to get me to look at him.

"Look at me, love. Look into my eyes. You love doing that, don’t you? Come on, just breathe with me, okay?"

But I couldn’t. My whole body was shaking, and it felt like the walls were closing in on me. I couldn’t catch my breath, couldn’t think straight. All I could feel was the panic, the overwhelming fear that I was drowning, that I was going to fall apart completely.

"I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for everything I’ve put you through. I never wanted to hurt you like this. I never wanted any of this to happen."

His hands moved to cup my face, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears that continued to fall. "Please, forgive me," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it. Anything. I’ll do anything for you, baby. Just name it."

I tried to focus on his words, tried to let them ground me, but it was so hard. The pain was so deep, so consuming, and I didn’t know how to make it stop.

"Please, Y/N," he continued, his voice growing softer, more desperate. "I need you. I need you to know that you’re the one I want, the one I need."

I felt his hand move to the back of my neck, his touch gentle as he tried to steady me. "You’re the one I love," he whispered, his breath warm against my skin. "The only one. There was no one else. I swear it."

"When I went to see Betty that night, it was over between us. It had been over for a while and I told you that love i didn’t lie about that I swear. I just… I couldn’t let her find out from someone else. I wanted to tell her myself. I didn’t want her to think… to think that I had been lying to her, that I had been with you while I was still with her. I wanted to be honest with her, with you. But I swear, Y/N, I didn’t cheat. Not with you, not with her."

His eyes searched mine, pleading with me to believe him. "You have to believe me. I know I messed up, I know I hurt you, but I never meant to. I just… I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to handle everything. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. I swear it."

Tears streamed down my face, the weight of everything crashing down on me all at once.

"I’m so sorry," he whispered again, his lips brushing against my hair. "I’ll never hurt you like this again. I promise."

I felt the tears well up again, but this time, they were different. They weren’t tears of fear or anger, but something softer, something that felt almost like relief.

"I’ll do anything for you, baby," he repeated, his voice tender. "Just tell me what you need, and it’s yours."

The door creaked open, and I jumped slightly, still nestled in Mattheo’s arms. I quickly wiped at my face as Adrian stepped inside, a smirk plastered on his face.

"Please tell me you got him begging on his knees," Adrian said, his voice dripping with amusement.

Mattheo stiffened beside me, his expression darkening. He was up on his feet in a flash, and I knew that look—he was ready to kill Adrian. I quickly grabbed his hand, holding him back. "Don’t."

Adrian’s eyes widened in mock fear, holding up his hands as if to surrender. "Whoa, easy there, killer. I’m just here to check if my best friend needs any emotional support after dealing with, well, you."

"Do you have a death wish?" Mattheo growled, taking a step toward him.

"Mattheo, calm down," I said firmly, tugging on his hand to pull him back. I could feel the tension in his muscles as he glared at Adrian.

"You know," Adrian continued, seemingly oblivious to the danger he was in, "I’m just saying, I’ve never seen Mattheo Riddle on his knees for anyone. If I had a camera, I’d have snapped a photo for the history books."

"Adrian, shut up," I said,"You’re not helping."

"I think I’m helping," Adrian shot back with a grin. "In fact, I’m the best help you’ve got. What are you gonna do without me, Y/N? Cry on Mattheo’s shoulder all day? Please, that’s my job."

Mattheo looked like he was about to lunge at him, but I squeezed his hand.

Enzo suddenly appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a bemused expression on his face.

"Did I miss the show?" Enzo asked, raising an eyebrow. "I heard something about Mattheo begging?"

"I was not begging," Mattheo snapped, shooting Adrian a murderous glare.

Adrian shrugged, still smirking. "You say ‘not begging,’ I say ‘finally showing some humility.’ Same difference."

"Do you have a death wish or something, Adrian?" Enzo said, shaking his head with a grin.

"I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking," Adrian replied, crossing his arms. "Besides, someone needs to keep Riddle here in check. Can’t have him getting too full of himself."

"I can take care of that myself, thanks," I said, rolling my eyes at the two of them.

Mattheo finally relaxed a bit, though he still looked ready to strangle Adrian. "You’re lucky she’s here," he muttered darkly.

"Yeah, I know," Adrian said, giving me a wink. "I’d be toast without her around."

Enzo chuckled, pushing off the doorframe. "Alright, enough with the macho posturing. We’ve got better things to do than watch you two flirt-fight."

"Who’s flirting?" I shot back, crossing my arms.

"You," Enzo said, grinning. "And him." He pointed between Mattheo and me. "And for the record, you’re terrible at hiding it."

"Like I’d ever flirt with this asshole," I said, though my cheeks heated at the insinuation.

"Oh, please, Y/N," Adrian said, rolling his eyes. "You’re practically batting your eyelashes at him right now."

Mattheo finally smirked, his anger dissipating. "See? Even Adrian can see it."

"I’m going to kill you both," I muttered, but there was a smile tugging at my lips.

"Hey, that’s my line," Mattheo said, looking down at me with a soft grin. "But you’re cute when you’re mad, so I’ll let it slide."

Adrian snorted. "Wow, she’s got you whipped, doesn’t she?"

"I’m not whipped," Mattheo shot back, though he didn’t sound too convincing.

"You kind of are," Enzo said, laughing.

"And for you information Riddle that my dick is perfectly average-sized so stop spreading rumors, thank you very much!"

"It’s not a rumor if it’s true."

Adrian’s face flushed with annoyance. "That’s bullshit, and you know it, Riddle! Quit trying to spread misinformation about my buddy!"

"Adrian,Now, can we please focus on something other than your you know for five minutes?"

"Five minutes is all I need," Adrian quipped with a wink.

"Five minutes is all it’ll take for me to bury you six feet under," Mattheo Said.

"Alright, alright. Calm down, Romeo."

Adrian threw his hands up in exasperation. "I’m just saying, that kind of rumor could ruin a guy’s reputation!"

"Yeah, because that’s exactly what I was trying to do," Mattheo said.

I rolled my eyes and tugged on Mattheo’s hand, pulling him toward the door. "Let’s get out of here before I have to deal with any more of this."

"Good idea," Mattheo agreed, following me out of the room. "Before I decide to actually kill them."

Adrian called after us, "You know you love us!"

As we walked down the hallway, Mattheo turned to me with a lopsided grin. "So, I’m forgiven?"

I glanced up at him, trying to suppress a smile. "We can work on that," I replied, teasingly.

His grin grew wider, and he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "You know, seeing you all flustered and cute when you’re mad really does something to me."

My cheeks flushed red, and before I could respond, he captured my lips in a quick, heated kiss. It was so sudden that I barely had time to process it before he pulled away, smirking at my dazed expression.

"You can’t just kiss me like that out of nowhere!" I exclaimed, trying to sound stern but failing miserably.

"Well, I sure as hell will," he said confidently, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "If I get to finally call you my girl, then I’ll be going around showing off and making sure everyone gets the message."

I raised an eyebrow. "What message?"

"That you’re off-limits. No one gets close to you, and no one says a damn word that could upset you."

"No?" raised an eyebrow, teasing him. "And if they do?"

Mattheo’s eyes darkened, and his lips curved into a dangerous smile. "Let’s just say I don’t think they’d want to try that again."

My eyes widened in realization. “Wait, are you telling me you’ve been hitting guys who talk bad about me?”

He didn’t deny it, just gave me a sly smile, and suddenly, I couldn’t help the rush of excitement that went through me. The thought of him defending me like that—it was kind of a turn-on.

I smirked, stepping closer to him. “Okay, fine. That was such a turn-on. You can kiss me now.”

He didn’t need any more encouragement. His hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer as he pressed his lips to mine again. This time, the kiss was deeper, more passionate, and I melted into him, forgetting everything else.

When we finally pulled away, breathless and slightly dizzy, he grinned down at me. "I’m going to love showing everyone that you’re mine."

I rolled my eyes, but my heart skipped a beat at his words. "Just don’t go overboard with it, okay?"

"No promises," he murmured against my lips before stealing one more kiss.

[clip-the-simp]

A Logan Holiday

Ao3 Master list

Pairing: Logan Howlett // Wolverine x mutant!fem!reader

Word count: 2,536

Cw: slight proofreading, fluff, slight angst, winter holidays, language, alcohol, talks of war (?), this really is just kinda fluffy.

Summary: The reader tried to find Logan to celebrate the winter holidays. She finds him isolating himself from the festivities but doesn’t allow him to sulk in peace.

A/N: I got the writing bug and it’s for Logan. 7 year old me should NOT have been so down bad for this man but she was. But I guess that’s what happens when you have raging parental issues. Enjoy this very out of season dribble.

The air had chilled from the winter that settled in during December. Snow dusted over the grounds of the Xavier Institute as it fell softly from the sky. Most of the children had gone home for the winter break but there were always a few that stuck around the mansion. However, even with many of the school's inhabitants gone, the halls were still lively with the holiday spirit.

Gambit along with Rouge were busy in the kitchen whipping up treats for everyone to enjoy. Their laughs could be heard from the hall as you passed which filled your heart with warmth.

Jubilee tasked herself with the responsibility to run through the mansion halls and decorat to her heart's content. She had nearly ran into you multiple times from not paying attention but it was understandable. Her and Kurt had challenged one another to see who was the better decorator. And from the look of things Jubilee was going to win this one.

Jean and Scott were busy putting up a pine tree in the massive living room. The tree towered over everyone who stood near it but that just gave ample opportunity for decorating. Scott of course took the lower branches while Jean used her abilities to fly to the top. Presents laid under the tree for everyone who stayed for the winter and it brought a smile to your face as you thought about all the love that filled the school.

Leaning against the door frame, you couldn’t help but think about how much you would enjoy spending this time with Logan but he was nowhere to be found. He had run off that morning and you couldn’t track him down. You knew he didn’t like the holidays but you wish he wouldn’t run off like he did. There was a hand suddenly on your shoulder that forced you out of your thoughts. Startled, you jumped around and found Ororo behind you. She looked just as shocked at your reaction as you were.

“Wow now it’s just me.” She reassured you with a smile. Having taken her hand off your shoulder, she returned it to her hot coffee mug that was in her other hand. You let out a sheepish chuckle as you caught yourself.

“Sorry Ororo. Been a little in my head this evening.” You leaned back against the door frame and continued watching as Jean placed the star at the top of the tree. Ororo hummed an understanding note with a nod.

“You’re worried about Logan, aren’t you?” She questioned as she took a slow sip from her drink. You gave her a weak smile at her acknowledgment. Everyone knew you were close to Logan, but no one knew just how close.

It was a one sided kinda love. The two of you had lived through the same worldly events. With every war you had found your way back to him. Although he never had noticed you. Your role was always that of a medic and since Logan never needed medical attention he had never taken notice of you. Sure there were many occasions he would bring a fellow soldier back from the battlefield, bloody and barely holding on to life, but he never stayed long. Through every war you had been there to watch him and his brother fight both on and off the field. When a war would end the two of you would part ways for the time, but war never changed and it always brought you back.

During the Vietnam war however was when you thought you lost him forever. After Logan’s brother Victor had killed a commanding officer they were sent to be executed. You knew it wouldn’t work but there was still a pain in your chest from knowing you wouldn’t see Logan again. That was until many years later when Scott had hauled Logan’s limp body into the institute which caused your heart to seize in your chest. But even with Logan being so close now you didn’t dare confuse that love you still felt for him. Not only because of your cowardice but also due to his lack of memory. There was no chance you would pursue what only you could remember of him.

So you decided to build a new. Scrubbing your memories of the old Logan for ones to make with the one standing today. He was still mostly the same gruff man you knew, but he no longer remembered what all had happened to him. With those thoughts floating though your head you shook them away to bring yourself back to the moment. Ororo looked at you with a soft smile and gentle eyes.

“How did you know?” You asked jokingly as you crossed your arms over your chest. Your smile became more stable as you straightened your posture. “You haven’t seen him have you?”

“Not since this morning. But Charles may have better knowledge of his whereabouts.” She offered before stepping through the large doorway. You watched as she settled herself down on the couch in front of the fireplace. The fire crackled and kept the room warm despite the large windows that covered most of the walls in the room.

Deciding to take Ororo’s suggestion you went to find The Professor. If you remembered correctly he and Hank had settled into the library to play chess while reminiscing on the past. Making your way there you bumped into Kurt who teleported right in front of you causing him to run into your chest.

“Oh, sorry! Gotta run! Can’t have Jubs beat me!” And with that he was gone in a flash. A chuckle left your lips as you made it to the library where you found Charles. The men sat at a table with a chest bored in front of them, but as you entered both raised their heads to look at you.

“Hello professor, I’m sorry to bother you but have you seen Logan?” Your words came out more rushed then had been intended but you were starting to get antsy. He couldn’t have just dropped off the face of the earth. All the vehicles were still in the garage so you know he was here somewhere.

“I haven’t my dear. But we both know how he gets around the holidays.” The Professor informed you with a wariness in his voice. Charles was the only one to know of your history with Logan and understood your care for the man. You let out a sigh as another attempt to find Logan failed.

“I know. But Thank you Professor, I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. See ya.” You bid farewell to the two chess players before walking to your room. It was almost driving you mad trying to find Logan. Deciding to take a break you went to your room to change and grab the gift you had for the Wolverine. You had been walking around the mansion in your sweatpants and a festive long sleeve shirt but decided it was time to take the search outside.

As you finished changing into your jeans and put on a jacket over your long sleeve you looked out the window. When looking outside you’re immediately greeted with the pond, but if you look farther you can see some of the trees that scatter the grounds, limbs bare of leaves. In one of those trees you had spotted a shadowy figure amongst its branches. There was no doubt in your mind who it was. So in a quick fashion. You laced up your shoes, grabbed the gift off your night stand, and ran out the door as you tucked it into a large inner pocket of your jacket.

The air bit at your exposed skin as you stepped out. The snow was still falling steadily to the ground as you found yourself outside. Not wanting to get your shoes to wet you formed a small disk of light particles and jumped on.

Your mutation allowed you to manipulate atoms on a subatomic level which you used to your utmost advantage. But you never used them in the ways a villain would, only ever utilizing them for shield defense or healing small injuries on others.

Maneuvering the disk under your feet you made your way over to the tree Logan resided in. It didn’t take long before you were at the base of the tree. Dissolving the light you had used leaving you standing in the snow behind Logen, you stared up at him.

Logan’s face was lit only by the full moon that hung high in the sky, casting a glow over his features. His brows were furrowed while deep in thought as he slumped over the tree limb he was perched on. You couldn’t help admiring him even if he seems upset. Taking a moment to clear your throat you began to speak.

“Mind if I join you?” You heard a grumble from the man as he registered your existence. Taking a moment to unslouch his shoulders he looked down at you .

“I just can’t seem to lose you can I?” Logan gruffed as he watched you summon another disk to lift you up into the tree. His eyes trained on your every move as you plopped down beside him on the sturdy branch.

“You have no idea.” You retorted as you let your legs swing back and forth. He raised his eyebrow at that remark which caused you to pale slightly. “Why don’t you come inside? It’s a lot warmer and you wouldn’t be alone.” You quickly changed the subject back to your mission. A slight growl left Logan’s throat as he slumped back into his previous stance.

“That’s why I’m out here, kid. I want to be alone.” His eyes became fixed on the vast yard that laid before him. The snow was building steadily over the grass as the temperature continued to drop.

“Well that’s too damn bad.” You informed him which only caused his brow to furrow deeper. His leather jacket tightened against his back as he inhaled. Logan knew you weren’t going to just leave him. No matter how mean he got or how unsavory, you stayed. He never understood why and figured he never would.

“But since you’re not going to come in,” you opened up your jacket to pull out the present. He turned his attention back to you and his eyes widened just a fraction. “here. I got you a little something.”

It wasn’t wrapped due to its odd shape but you figured he wouldn’t mind too much. As you handed it over he took a moment to examine it. On an overnight mission in Ireland Logan and yourself had found a local pub. He wasn’t too picky when it came to his whisky but you couldn’t help notice the way he enjoyed this particular brand.

So on the last day of the mission you had wandered back into that same bar and bribed the bartender to sell you an unopened bottle. You were lucky to not have been caught with the liquor on your way back into the institute.

It clicked in Logan’s head instantly as he turned the bottle over in his hands. The Amber liquid sloshed steadily around the glass as he turned it. You watched as he examined it, slowly starting to become self conscious of the gift. His silence wasn’t helping either. The cold had started to bite through your jacket causing you to pull the zipper up your neck. Your gaze fell to the ground below as you started to ramble.

“I saw how you enjoyed it while we were in Ireland so I just thought-“ you were cut off as Logan pulled you into his side. His hand rested on your waist as he brought you closer. The warmth he radiated through his own jacket soothed the chill that had begun to settle into your bones. You looked up at Logan a bit astonished and found he was already looking at you.

“Thank you.” He said simply. There was a genuine appreciation in his tone which caused your face to warm. He was so close which sent your system into overload. Your body grew hot as a spark shot up your spine from the contact.

“No problem.” You replied with a slight shake in your voice. Logan’s grip on your waist disappeared as he shuffled beside you. Too focused on the loss of contact you were startled when his jacket was draped over your shoulders. The smell of his cigars and a lingering scent of pine filled your nose. You couldn’t help tucking yourself further into the warm leather, pulling your arms through the sleeves.

“Thank you. Guess my jacket wasn’t as thick as I thought it was.” You sheepishly admitted. Logan let out a chuckle before placing his arm back around you. His other hand still gripped the bottle of Whisky.

“You should get back inside before you catch a cold.” He warned, his thumb slowly rubbing your side. You let out a chuckle before poking at his shoulder.

“I’m not leaving without you.” A smile bloomed across your face as he let out a sigh. He knew you weren’t lying when you said that. There had been many occasions you had done it before, he both loved and hated that about you. With a grumble he removed his arm from around your waist and jumped down from the tree.

“Come on then.” He said before placing the bottle of whisky in the snow and reached a hand up towards you. A look of skepticism passed over your face as your head tilted to the side.

“Are you going to catch me?” You couldn’t help but ask. There was no doubt in your mind that he wouldn’t. Logan never deliberately hurt you, except for a few times during training. But you had asked him to not hold back, so he didn’t.

“Always.” Logan reassured you with a smile across his face. The branch wasn’t too high up but it would still hurt like a bitch if you landed wrong. So with cautious movement you pushed yourself off and within seconds you were against Logan’s chest. Your arms wrapped around his neck and he held you flush to his body.

You didn’t want to let go. It felt so right being this close to him in his embrace. However you knew that moment had to come to an end. He put you down so your feet were on solid ground before turning to pick up the whisky bottle. Your grip tightened on Logan’s jacket as he began to walk toward the mansion. You summoned one last disk before gliding beside him. Hovering off the ground you were now eye level with Logan.

“I knew you’d come around.” You leaned in to elbow him, he was so easy to tease. Sure Logan had a bad temper and an even worse past, but even with his gruff exterior he was a sweet guy underneath. As much as he didn’t want to admit it. He looked over at you and placed an arm across your shoulders. Hand resting on your shoulder and giving a slight squeeze.

“Shut up.” He grumbled.

[kaisntbreathing]

𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐌 𝐗 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 PT 2

As requested part 2,

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 | 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎

𝐏𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢n𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞.

𝐓𝐖:

𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐦𝐚𝐣𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝐀/𝐧:

𝐈 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 I 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨 𝐈 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠.

Tag list:

@mari0-o

@ghostdoodlen

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

And it all taken a turn for a worse you would only left him alone for moments taking your eyes off him for a moment to be able to focus on your enemy and that seemed to be enough time for the worst that happen.

As you heard a pain to yell from behind you and as soon as you spun around in the air everything seemed to slow down as you saw your husband fall to the ground as his golden blood splattered all over the brimstone below him as you cried out flying to his side as you held him in your arms as he bled out your eyes began to water.

"ADAM!"

As you held your dying lover in your arms he looked up at you weakly as his golden eyes looked up into your own eyes his eyes only held love as his light began to fade rapidly as he smiled a genuine smile not his usual smirk.

"I-I'm sorry Y/n....I love you."

"Don't say that shit Adam...You...You're going to be ok!"

You cried out as you held him in your arms desperately trying to heal him but your magic seemed to be depleted as you couldn't heal him properly as you shook and trembled with him in your arms as your salty hot tears soaked your face.

As he reached up weakly to wipe your way your tears he smiled as the blood seeped into your clothes and onto your hands.

"Please don't leave me...I still need you!"

"Maybe in another life....I love you and I always will ....Take care of Lute for me."

With that those were his final words to you as his body went limp in your arms as his eyes slowly fluttered shut as his chest deflated for the last time as you screamed out in agony and despair as you clutched onto his body.

"ADAM?! ADAM PLEASE THiS ISN'T FUNNY! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME!"

You heard the sound of wings distantly beside you you didn't care enough to look up as tears aggressively fell from your eyes as they soaked his face and your own as you held on to him as his body slowly started to disintegrate.

"NO PLEASE!"

He started to disappear as golden dust was all that was left of his body as he faded into nothingness as all that was left to him was his halo and the ring that was on his ring finger as you took his halo and his wedding ring that matched yours you looked up in despair.

Lucifer looked at you with the look of both anger yet sympathy as he didn't need to say anything verbally you knew what he was trying to tell you as you gripped onto the halo you looked at him one last time pure rage filled your body as you promise to take down the ones that took the one thing that mattered most to you away.

"All Exorcist fall back"

As you took off into the sky you looked back one more time as tears fell from your cheeks as all the angels that were left alive took off following you back to Heaven as you crossed back over into the pearly portal as you all made it back to Heaven you looked up at Lute as she ran to you crying.

"It's ok Lute...I-Its....."

Your voice trailed off as it cracked as you tried to speak as your tears prevented you from doing so instead you gripped onto Lute's uniform tightly as you held the poor girl as she shook she was going through just as much as you were Adam was her best friend.

After that day you and Lute became really close neither of you were seeing without one another as you'd often spend the night with her refusing to be alone.

After Adam died you both changed becoming more cold and distant than you ever were before and the other archangels notice this in you Emily and Sera we're very sympathetic towards you understanding that you were going through a lot losing your husband.

"Y/n...You're our friend...Tell us if you need anything ok?"

You appreciated everybody's sympathy but also wish they wouldn't treat you like you were made of glass.

One year later

It was extermination time again and it was at part of the year where you were reminded of it what was taken from you as you flew down to Hell you began your extermination killing demons left and right until you saw demon in the corner of your eye that was watching you not afraid of you but watching.

You looked at the demon as the demon looked oddly familiar but you couldn't place it as you got closer it then dawned on you who it really looked like.

"...Adam?"

[bookuce]

I Hate You, I Love You (Roman Reigns) -- One Shot

Summary: It's Date Night for Mariah and Joe, but it doesn't go as planned. Insecurities were revealed. Words went flying, but it's okay. He's going to make her take it all back.

DISCLAIMER: Outside of the OC, I do not own any character mentioned. The real names of wrestlers are used in my writings. In this, Joe is Roman Reigns. I DO NOT GIVE ANYONE PERMISSION TO REPOST OR TRANSLATE MY WRITINGS ANYWHERE. THAAAAANKS.

PAIRING: Roman Reigns x Black OC

WARNINGS: Smut, Language, 18+, NSFW

WORD COUNT: 2,435

The front door to Mariah and Joe’s home swung open, bouncing off the wall behind it. “Get the fuck away from me.” She hisses, making sure to slam the door behind her. A shoulder stops it, forcing the door to open and hit the wall again. Dinner didn’t go as planned, and the entire drive home, she and him argued. 

“Quit slamming doors in my fucking house, Mariah!” He shouts after her, slamming the door behind him. Mariah marched angrily up the stairs, her fingers fumbling with her earrings. She just wanted to get out of this stupid outfit.

“Fuck you, Joe.” She spat.

“Ay, watch your mouth.” He warns her. Joe would follow her up the stairs, his feet making thunderous sounds with each step he took. She enters the bedroom, walking over to her nightstand. “You’re always blowing things out of proportion.” That pissed her off. She grabs the lamp on the nightstand, sending it hurtling towards him. He dodges it, turning to watch it shatter against the wall.

“Don’t you dare try to flip this on me! I wasn’t the one eye fucking the waitress all night!” She shouts, pointing at him. “I try to do something nice for your ass—for us, and you make me look fucking dumb! You fucking pig! I fucking hate you!” Mariah’s body was shaking with rage, her body hot with anger. She’d clench and unclench her fists while she glared at him. He looks at her, his brows furrowing. He didn’t play any of that hate shit. 

“Girl, are you out of your goddamn mind?” He says, stomping around the bed towards her. His hand reaches out, but she shoves it away. 

“What did I just tell you!” She shouts at him. He reaches for her again, his advances falling short once more. “Get away—.”He snatches her arm up, yanking her towards him. They were now flush against each other, Joe towering over her. His large hand grasped wavy locks before pulling her head back to look at him.

“Say it again.” He growls.

Her heart was racing wildly in her chest thanks to this argument. Emotions were high, and there was a tingle in her throat. Her chest rose and fell with short breaths. She’d lock onto those brown eyes, tears beginning to fill her own. She’d blink quickly, ridding herself of the blurs her tears caused. She’d swallow back the urge to cry, her stare hardening. “I said I hate you—.” Before she could finish that sentence, Joe’s lips were on hers.

She’d press her lips tight together, protesting his kiss. He’d let go of her arm, his hand immediately reaching around to grab a handful of ass. It was his go-to move every time she stonewalled him. She’d let out a moan, allowing her mouth to fill with his tongue. Her mouth began to move against his own, returning his angry kiss. It was impressive how quickly she gave in to him when she was mad. He was a wrecking ball to every strong foundation she had ever built. Slender fingers travel up the lapel of his suit jacket before reaching around to connect at the back of his neck.

Joe’s hands would move from their places in her hair and on her ass, finding the neckline on the back of her dress. His fingers tried to find the zipper, but he would quickly get irritated with the hunt. They’d wrap around the neck, ripping the dress right down the center of her back. His hands would travel along the growing split, exposing her backside. Cold air rushed at her body, quickly raising goosebumps. His left hand traveled back up, now wrapping around the back of her neck. He’d grip it roughly, pulling her back from the kiss. She’d let out a pant at the unexpected motion but sharply gasped when he shoved her body into the comforter on their bed. He releases her neck, his hands pulling her arms back. He’d hold her wrists in one hand.

“Take it back.” He demands.

She lifts her head, her hair now a mess. “I hate you.” She says again. He’d strike her right ass cheek, causing her to yelp. The sensation from the sting traveled up her back, making her arch. “Fuck,” she says under her breath, letting her head drop back into the thick blanket.

“Don’t make me tell you again.” He says, his voice stern. She ignores his warning, remaining quiet. “Oh, now you have nothing to say.” His hand would collide with that cheek again, hitting in the same spot. Riah sinks her teeth into her bottom lip to stop herself from reacting. A red, hand-shaped welt would appear on her skin. “Now, I can do this all night; it’s all up to you.” He boasts, bringing his hand down for a third time.

“God!” She cries out. “I—I take it back!” She moves her hips in an attempt to ease the burn. 

He releases her hands, allowing them to drop to her sides. “Apologize.” He says calmly. Joe shrugs out of his suit jacket, draping it neatly across the bed beside her. He unbuttons the cuffs of his sleeves, folding them up past his elbows. Even though she surrendered, he and she knew he was far from finished. She presses her palms into the soft bedding, slowly pushing herself up.

“I’m sorry.” She breathes. The front of her dress would slip down her arms, exposing her breasts. She peers up from the curtain of messy black hair, her eyes finding her disheveled appearance in the grand mirror against the wall. 

“That’s not good enough for me.” He says, her head dropping at his words. Oh, for fucks sake, she thought. Suddenly, he pulls her head back, causing her to gasp. Her hands reach back for his shirt, barely grasping the fabric. “Say it right. Daddy, I’m sorry. I’ll never say it again. I love you, Daddy. I need you, Daddy. Forgive me, fuck me, Daddy.” He says into her ear, mocking her tone of voice. “That’s what I want to hear.” He confesses. His breath was heavy in her ear, causing her to shiver. She’d move against his crotch, squeezing her legs tight at the arousal she was feeling. She could feel his bulge against her backside and just knew he was aching to free it. She just had to say the words.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” She whimpers.

“Say it again.” He purrs, nodding his head.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“And?” He presses. Joe’s attention now turns to the mirror, a devious smile on his face. He reaches up, pulling the front of her dress down more. 

“I’ll never say it again.” She adds. His large hand cups a breast, massaging it slowly. His thumb would flick her sensitive nipple, causing her to moan. 

“Go on.” He whispers. 

“I love you, Daddy.” She continues, her hips still moving against his. The friction would cause him to give her a moan. Mariah smirked at the reward. 

“I love you.” He replies. His tongue would drag up her neck, flicking her earlobe. If he could, he’d devour her and leave nothing behind. She’d shift her hips once more, the tension in her loins growing by the second.

“I need you, Joe.” She says, opting for his name. He’d drop her back to the bed, and she’d sigh at the relief her neck felt. He’d wedge his knee between her legs, pushing her legs open. “Fuck me.” She breathes. 

“Fuck me what?” He asks. His hands grabbed the tattered dress she wore, ripping it more to expose her lower half to him. She wore no underwear with plans of their evening ending on a good note. Technically, it still was, but the outcome was different now. His hand would find the heat between her legs, his fingers becoming soaked in her wetness. His middle and index would push through her folds, finding her throbbing clit.

“Daddy.” She moans.

“Good girl.” He cooed at her, his fingers massaging the cluster of nerves at her center. She whimpered softly, her hips winding against his hand slowly. “We’re gonna fix that attitude.” He removes his hand from her glistening folds, his hand now having the same shine. He’d bring his hand to his lips, taking both fingers into his mouth. He sucks her fluids off his hand, humming softly at the sweet taste. Riah relaxes into the mattress, sighing softly. 

The unfastening of a belt could be heard behind Mariah, followed by the sound of a zipper. Joe pushed his pants past his hips, his cock flopping out from the confines of his trousers. He’d position himself at her opening before slowly pressing into her. She’d suck in a breath when she felt him insert her, a loud moan shaking her core. “Hush all that up.” He says, teasing her now. His hips move slowly within her, allowing her walls to adjust to him comfortably. “You done ran that mouth too much tonight.” He slams his hips into hers once. 

“F-Fuck.” She stammers. 

“Talking about you hate me.” Slam. “You don’t hate me. You can never hate me.” Slam. “You love me, can’t get enough of me, can’t live without me.” His hands grip her hips. “I don’t hate you either,” He breathes. “But I’ma fuck you like I do.” His hips began to pound into her, causing her to cry out in pleasure. Her hands would feel along the comforter before gathering the fabric by the fistfuls. She pulls it towards her, revealing the black satin sheets beneath the large blanket. 

“J-Joe!” She moans. “Ah, Joe—fuck!” He’d reach down, pulling her head up slightly.

“Look at yourself.” He says, talking about the mirror. Watching him degrade her in the most disgusting of ways only made her more aroused. “Done made me ruin a good dress.”

“I’m sorry,” She whimpers.

“Yeah, you better be.” He groans. “Fuck, Riah.” He lifts a hand to unbutton his shirt. Bit by bit, his shirt would reveal that chest piece she loved to kiss so much. Her fingers now ached to touch it. 

Her legs would begin to tremble with each thrust. Her body became overwhelmed with pleasure. Oh, she was close. “I’m gonna cum!” She chokes out. Her walls begin to clench against him, her legs increasingly getting worse. Suddenly, he pulls out, stripping her of any chance of release. His hand releases her hair, and she drops back into the bed. “Please!” She begs, making him laugh.

“Please!” He mocks her again. “What happened to all that mouth you had earlier, hm? Slamming my doors, breaking my shit.” He tsks at her, his head shaking in disappointment. “Not so tough now, are you?” He flips her onto her back. She’d land with her hands by her head. He grabs the shredded dress, ridding her body of it completely. He balls it up and tosses it to the side.

Mariah covers her face, trying to give herself a moment to compose herself. Her cheeks were hot, her face damp with sweat. Rough fingers wrap around her ankles and pull her to the edge of the bed. She drops her hands from her face, glaring up at Joe. He places both legs on his shoulders. “You can get that look off your face.” He tells her, pressing into her again. Her eyes would close in bliss, a soft sigh leaving her lips. 

Joe begins to lean over her body. The pressure in her abdomen building as he did so. He was folding her in half, and she could only imagine what he had planned. Her legs would slide up his shoulders, crossing at the ankles. His hips would resume their vigorous motions, his cock now pushing up into her G-spot. Her hands would slam the bed three times as she cried out in pleasure at him. “Yes!” She exclaims, pushing her hips up into his. “Oh, God, yes!” Her legs trembled like never before, her toes curling hard. 

“You hate me?” He asks, panting softly.

“No!” She moans.

“Look at me while I’m talking to you.” He growls. She forced her eyes open, meeting those dark eyes she loved terribly. “You love me?” He asks. She nods her head frantically. 

“Yes! I love you, Daddy. I love you so much!” He was once again bringing her close to her climax. The closer she got, the louder her moans became. “I’m—I’m—.”  before she could finish that sentence, he’d stop his hips. She let out a scream of frustration, earning a smug grin from her man. He was edging her into insanity. He moves her legs off his shoulders, now wrapping them around his waist. 

“Simmer down.” He says, reaching up to fix his bun. Oh, this asshole, she thought. Hairs stood wildly on his head, but he slicked them back against his head. 

“Joesph, if you don’t fuck me, I swear to—.” She says, her voice catching in her throat. His hips started moving again, this time extremely slow. This pace did nothing but quickly build her up again. Joe lets out a huff of his own, drawing close to his climax, too.

“No one gets me like this but you.” He tells her. “I don’t give a damn about  anyone but you.” His hips begin to pick up speed again. He leans over her again, his fists pressing into the mattress. “Don’t fucking embarrass me like that again.” He says through clenched teeth. His hips collided with her own, filling the room with loud claps of flesh against flesh.

“I’m sorry.” She apologizes again. “I’m close, God, I’m so close.” She whines. Her walls began to spasm around his length again, but this time he powered through. He could feel his hips starting to tighten, his thrusts now stuttering. He would give her three more pumps before releasing in her. Her body would erupt with tremors with her orgasm, her back arching off the bed. “Thank you,” she breathes. “Thank—.” Joe would turn her head, playfully pushing it into the mattress. She’d swat his hand away, earning a laugh from him. He pulls out, stepping back from between her legs. Pain would shoot up her legs now that she was finally able to rest them. She winces slightly.

Mariah pushes herself onto her elbows, her chest quickly rising and falling. “Clean yourself up.” He says, fixing his pants. She’d scoff gently, watching after him. He was walking toward the door. He needed water.

“You owe me a dress!” She exclaims after him.

“I know.” He replies, halfway down the stairs. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yeah, lmao please tell me what you think. I plan to cry about it later LMAO. This is literally my second time writing smut. I hope this was good @kawaiigladiatorwolf. Your request was random to me and I don't take them really, but I figured I'd give it a try. 🤷🏾‍♀️

I'm not a fan of y/n and find it hard to follow at times, so I did what was comfortable to me!

Enjoy!

[thoughtsfromlayla]

A Pirate's Dream For Me

Summary: Captain Fortune, pirate queen of the seven seas. You could never be tied down, no matter who it is that asks, no matter what it is that comes after you.

Notes: ~1.3k words, NAMED READER cause I thought it would be hilarious if a woman on a ship was named misfortune, cause yknow, they were considered bad luck *slaps knee*

Warnings/Tags: slight possessive Dream, but he's chill frfr

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Next

“Hard to starboard! Heave those ropes, now!” You scream as you run up the steps to the boat’s wheel. You hear your first mate repeat your orders and your crew flies into action. 

Thump… thump… thump…

The sound comes from deep in the waters, ripples following its movements. The air is heavy and hot, it’s stagnant even as the wind pushes on your sails. You shove away the person at the helm, ushering them to help out their other crewmates. You spin the wheel fast as you feel the wind change its course on you. 

“Come on, my beaut, fly for me,” You mutter to your ship. 

Thump.. Thump.. Thump..

You could smell it before you could see it, the vibrations of its tentacles came closer and closer to your ship and crew. It smelled of rotten fish and old metallic blood. 

Thump! Thump! Squelch…

“All hands on deck!” You scream again as you hear the slimy sounds of its large arms begin to crawl the walls of your ship.

Your heart is racing in your chest, but you find yourself caught in a smile as you watch the beast emerge from the depths of Davy Jones's locker. Tentacles three times the size of your mast, filled with suckers the size of the very wheel you mastered. 

The Kraken. 

A beautiful, deadly creature, come to take the love of your life away with one fell swoop. Well, you certainly won’t go without a fight. The sun blazes down on you, the feather on your captain’s hat whipping violently in the chaos of it all. Your crew falls silent, shocked and stunned at the view of the large beast. 

“Arm the cannons, fire at will!” You order as you watch those below you scrambling over each other. Your command brings them back to the present. 

Some disappeared below deck to start the cannons, and others began to raid the armory. The sound of blades being pulled from their scabbards and the clicking of guns being loaded penetrate the air as the ship sails the rough waters. 

Screams fall shortly after as the Kraken’s tentacles start to block out the sun. They come slamming down, the action sounding like a cracked whip. Its tactile arms feel around in large swoops as it grabs anything it can get a hold of. Barrels of gunpowder, crates of illegal goods, and your crew. 

You grab a random rod that was snapped out of place and jammed it into the helm, keeping your ship on course. With a yell, you fly down the stairs and unsheath your blade in one hand and cock your pistol with the other. A slimy appendage comes for you, which you shoot. The sharp pain of your bullet is enough for the beast to pull back its arm. But, not before it comes back again and finds itself wrapped around your first mate. His arm shoots out and quickly you grab it, the other coming down with a force to slice at the beast. 

You’re losing your men left and right as the tentacles climb higher and higher. You’ve seen this before, you’ve seen the absolute power the creature possesses. And amidst the chaos of splintering wood and screams you shouted your last order. 

“Abandon ship, head for land!” You scream defeated. 

At once, your crew drops whatever they are holding and heads for the longboats. They climbed over each other, dodging tentacles as much as they could before dropping haphazardly into the raging sea. You’re the last to leave, ready to heave yourself over the railing but the deafening sound of your ship snapping in half leaves you abandoned. 

You fall with the ship, and the humidity of the Kraken’s breath surrounds you. The floor cracks, leaving you falling to the ship’s magazine. The gunpowder was still dry…

With another bout of adrenaline, you crawl to your feet and throw the gunpowder's kegs against the walls. The kegs break against the force and you’re covered in the black soot of the explosive material. The sun disappears as you hear the grinding teeth of the Kraken close on themself. The ship groans under the pressure of the Kraken’s throat and with a deep, final breath you aim your pistol at the pile of gunpowder. 

A spark, a flash, and a boom.

The last thing you hear is the screams of your name on your crew’s lips. 

“You killed my Kraken, Miss. Fortune,” A voice pulls you from the depths. 

You feel the soft sand beaches of the tropics underneath you and you force your eyes open to the blazing sun that was probably giving you the worst sunburn imaginable right now. 

The voice that calls to you, it was one that you’ve heard twice before. Once upon a dream, when you were but a young girl watching your father making maps for the royal navy. 

“It’s Captain Fortune, and your Kraken destroyed my ship… Dream of the Endless” You groan as you sit up. Your clothes were tattered and burnt at the edges. “She was beautiful, though.”

“My beast, or your ship?” He asks as he looks down at you. 

He stands against the backdrop of every worker’s dream. The palm trees in the distance sway in the gentle breeze of the topics as they use their energies to bare the juiciest coconuts. His black attire made him stick out like a sore thumb, and his skin was ghastly pale compared to your sun tanned one after years at sea. 

“They are both your creations are they not, Dream Lord?” You respond with a smile. 

“Indeed they are,” He replies softly. He watches you carefully as you painfully stand on your feet. 

One of your shoes was missing, which he only acknowledges with a raised eyebrow. Otherwise, you seemed more or less intact, save for the burn marks on your forearms and upper thigh. If he hadn’t come at just the right moment, he feared he might have lost both beauties of the sea. 

“Have you reconsidered your answer to my question?” He asks. 

Your face snaps towards him with a frown; partially to block out that sun (where is your captain’s hat?) and the other because you hated that he asked. Your mind recalls the second, and only other time, you’ve encountered this otherworldly being. It was on the dawn of your 24th birthday, right before you woke up. He came to you in a hazy dream, asking if you wanted to become his queen. To rule the land of the Dreaming together, forever. 

You scoff as you remember. “Given my near death experience? The answer remains the same.”

“Which is?” Dream prompts slowly. 

“No.” You sigh and look out to the horizon. You need to get a new ship, and a new crew, everything can be replaced, but never freedom. You need to get off this island as soon as possible. 

“Then what is it you dream for?” Dream asks even though he knows the answer. He just wanted to keep you by his side for as long as possible, your very presence felt like a clarifying drug to him. 

“For the open seas, the chaos of life, the shine of buried treasure…” You begin to list off, shrugging. There were so many reasons. “A pirate’s dream for me.” 

“I will keep coming for you, my pirate queen” He promises in your ear, or threatens. The words balance on a thin line between the two. 

“I’ve already killed your Kraken.” You smirk and give a flamboyant, sarcastic bow before turning away. 

Little do you know that he has already gifted you a new ship on the other side of the island. He’s sure you’ll love it just as much as the last one he made for you. Dream doesn’t follow you, only his eyes do as your figure disappears. He’s already thinking of another beast to come for you.

The sea excites you, the chase excites him. 

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Next

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere Rhaenyra Targaryen/Alicent Hightower Headcanons (Poly!Romantic)

❝ 🐉— lady l: This is really long but I started writing and couldn't stop, so here's a poly headcanon!! I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes!

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, jealousy, implied murder, mention of mutilation, very slight nsfw and polyamorous relationship.

❝🐉pairing: yandere!rhaenyra targaryen/alicent hightower x female!reader.

Rhaenyra and Alicent have always been close, best friends and even sisters. They always enjoyed each other's company immensely and had a mutual trust between them.

Secretly, they had romantic feelings for each other but never had the courage to act on their feelings. Rhaenyra wasn't sure what she felt and Alicent considered what she felt wrong, even if she didn't quite understand what those feelings were.

Their relationship grew stronger over the years, especially when they met you. You were the daughter of a Lord of an important house in Westeros and were sent at a young age to King's Landing to learn how to be a proper courtesan. Rhaenyra immediately took a liking to you, sticking to your side like gum, while Alicent was more skeptical.

Rhaenyra adored you immediately, she found it adorable how confused and innocent you were in the face of court politics and she wanted to be your friend. It took Alicent a while to get used to your presence, to your intrusion into her friendship with Rhaenyra, but once she did, she couldn't live without you anymore.

Because they had feelings for each other before your arrival, they couldn't help but feel a little jealous of you. Alicent swallowed hard and bit her nails when you were too close to Rhaenyra and Rhaenyra became anxious and even irritated when you spent too much time with Alicent. Over the years, this changed and the jealousy was directed from one to the other.

The three of you liked to spend your days reading, gossiping, eating cake, and, depending on the situation, flying with Rhaenyra on Syrax or waiting for her to return with Alicent in the carriage.

It wasn't easy to admit the romantic feelings they had for you and each other, but when they finally did, it was like a weight had been lifted off their shoulders.

The first kiss with each of them was shy and awkward, as they had no practice. Rhaenyra's lips against yours were sloppy and dominant, possessive. Alicent's were, although clumsy, soft and gentle, hesitant.

It was an experience and one that they would remember forever. You kissed for a while, with some silly hands there, but nothing more than that. Until one day Rhaenyra decided to move on.

You were in her room, lying on the bed and exchanging caresses and kisses, when Rhaenyra touched you in a more intimate way. Both Alicent and you were surprised but excited at the prospect of going further. Alicent was a little reluctant, but she wanted you and that was a way to seal your love.

Rhaenyra's touches were strong and dominant, wanting to mark you as hers. She sucked your skin hard and her fingers entered the dress you were wearing, touching you in parts that not even you had dared to touch and bringing you to your first orgasm. She would be gentle and warm, her kisses and touches would fill you with warmth.

Alicent was no longer as innocent as you and Rhaenyra, but she still had doubts. But they all disappear the moment you touch her in her private place, your fingers moving and pushing her to the edge. She came with your name on her lips, her breathing labored and her face red.

They were both extremely possessive and overprotective of you. Any talk of marriage that involved you was quickly brushed aside. They would never let you be tainted by anyone other than them.

Rhaenyra is a dragon and her jealousy is the most intense, she will be filled with rage and will never forget an offense. Without caring what others think, she would tear you away from whoever is talking to you and make sure you know who you belong to.

Alicent is calmer, she deals with her emotions by repressing them, even though this is not healthy. She feels very jealous, but she will try to hold back and pretend that she is not bothered, but she will be brooding inside. Alicent will be sure to remind you who you belong to throughout the night.

The three of you loved each other deeply and were sure that nothing and no one would separate you. Needless to say, you were very wrong.

Your relationship was tested when Alicent married Viserys and Rhaenyra married Laenor. Although it had already deteriorated by the time the announcement of Viserys and Alicent's marriage was made, you still had hope that they would be friends again and be together.

For a while that was even possible, but when Rhaenyra married Laenor, you knew it wasn't. And the birth of Alicent's firstborn son will test Rhaenyra's claim to the Iron Throne. What followed wasn't good, with the birth of Rhaenyra's children and Alicent's disdain for them, you knew there was no going back.

And you were sure of it when you were summoned to Driftmark's main hall after Aemond was mutilated by Lucerys. Both women wanted your support and there was no way around the situation anymore.

You couldn't have both anymore. You need to choose one, knowing that you will hurt the other and that the one you will be rejected will never accept.

Your fate was sealed the moment your father sent you to King's Landing and you accepted the company of Rhaenyra and Alicent. What seemed like a true friendship that would last forever became full of intrigue and struggles for power and for you.