#after my heart has been broken with to many angst fanfics

[senualothbrok]

Enough

Summary: You agreed to help Astarion with the Rite of Profane Ascension, but you can't watch him go through with it. You interrupt the ritual, and Astarion turns on you. Now, you must deal with the aftermath of your actions.

Word count: 3.6k

Disclaimers: Non-18+. Astarion x female Tav. Angst. Trauma and recovery. A very angry Astarion.

AO3 link

This is the first fanfic I have written for about 20 years. I should be working on my novel, but this story honestly possessed me. I hope someone out there reads and enjoys this! If not, it was therapeutic and cathartic to write it.

-----------------------------------------------------

You have heard it a thousand times. The tales and the histories, all the songs you have sung. You are a bard, after all, and this story is as old and worn as your heart. Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

You know this, and you have seen it. You have seen it twist kind men into savages, transform wary women into beasts. Your own family had suffocated you under its clutches, leveraging your gifts and talents for ever more power and influence. Stripping you bare, squeezing out every drop they could get from you. You were their very own song bird, pushed about and paraded until your fingers were raw and throat was hoarse, to grant them entry into the best parties and social circles. But you were never enough. You never sang sweetly enough, or got large enough crowds. Not enough people knew you. You should have been prettier, more alluring. All the things they made you do, but you never did enough. It was never enough.

When you had escaped from them, you had vowed you would never be like them. You had promised yourself you would never become the thing you fought against. You would be different. Better. You would be good.

And yet.

You are standing in Cazador’s palace. Blood spatters the smooth ivory of Astarion’s skin. In the nightmarish hue of the ritual chamber, he glows a strange green. His crimson eyes are all fear and desperation.

“I can do this, but I need your help.”

In that moment, you cannot say no. If it were anyone else, you would refuse. There have been many conversations with Astarion - around the campfire, in his tent, even as you walked around the labyrinth of Cazador’s living hell. You have talked to him at length about this moment. You have listened as he has confessed guilt and need and hesitation and rage. You have been kind and patient, always careful not to criticise him, not to push back too much, not to hurt him. You have been good. He must make his own decision, you have been telling yourself. He has suffered enough.

So you open your mind to him, because he asks you to. You feel his frenzied hunger as he devours the sight of every scar on his back, as though their cruelty is now beauty. You watch his features which you have come to know so well. You have seen them in sleep, in battle, in laughter, in pain.  You have seen them shrouded and masked, bare and open. You watch now as they contort into something that you recognise from so many other faces and times. And as you watch, you can barely hear Cazador’s deafening screams, or register the way his mangled mess writhes and gushes. All you can see is Astarion’s widening smile as he carves at Cazador’s back, his eyes dilating like sinkholes.

You think it, even as he whisks away Cazador’s mutilated body like a rag doll. Even when Astarion slams the staff on the ground and everything around you blazes red as the blood of his convulsing siblings and the seven thousand spawn about to be slaughtered. Even when Gale and Karlach cry out at Astarion to stop, that this is a mistake, that the cost is too great. Even then, you think to yourself: this is what he wants. It is his choice. It is his right.

But in the scarlet haze, you are remembering. You are thinking of his trembling voice when he promised a broken husk called Sebastian, just moments ago, that he would free him. You think of the way his soft eyes glistened when he had thanked you and clasped your hand, stunned with the realisation that he was not just a thing to be used. You feel the crushing weight of Vellioth and Cazador and the decaying dungeons and centuries upon centuries of madness and terror. And you remember the tenderness with which he had looked at you, not days ago, believing the power of the ritual would keep you both safe. That he would protect you with it.

“I can feel their power flowing into me!”

You stare at him, spreadeagled, monstrous.

Something has begun to well inside you, like a cracking of ice, a convulsion of tears. In that whispering, you remember the promise you made yourself all those years ago.  And you know, from a deep and tattered place within you, that that promise is greater than your yearning for his love.

The blade springs from your hand on its own. You watch it sing through the air and hit its perfect note in Cazador’s maimed gut. Astarion and his siblings crumple to the floor. The crimson mist lifts, and in the silence you know, with the certainty of death, that you have lost him.

You say something, but you know it is meaningless. Nothing can repair the mistake you have made. You could have refused to help him when he asked. You could have reasoned with him, urged him to stop and think. You could have told him, from the start, that you could not go through with it. And now, you have kept your promise to yourself, but not to the man you love.

When he rises from his knees and turns to you, it is the face of a stranger that you see.

“I was so close. I could have had it all, but you took everything from me.”

Hatred hardens in his every word. And then, a tide of despair.

“Cazador won after all. I’ll never escape the hell he built.”

You cannot bear it. Your failure rips through you, and you want to reach out to him, to beg and plead and weep. But you just stand there.

He looks down at the staff in his hand.

“And if I can’t escape, then no one can.”

He splits the staff on his knee. It makes such a small sound as it splinters, but it echoes through you like an avalanche. It is the sound of seven thousand spawn being condemned to death. It is the sound of their eternal suffering. And it is all because of you. The horror and guilt erupts inside you.

It happens so fast after that. There is no time to think, to feel, to act. There is the glint of a dagger raised. You are knocked back, and a searing pain slices through your shoulder as you stare up at bared fangs looming over you. Your limbs are heavy with shock, and suddenly you feel a surge of heat and the great arc of Karlach’s war hammer over you. You hear Gale shout out a spell, and you watch as Astarion topples to the side, frozen except for the furious twitching of his eyes.

“Don’t!” you hear yourself shout. “Please, stop!”

Karlach and Gale rush to your side, cradling you up, fussing over your shoulder. But you do not feel it. You do not really feel anything. All you can do is look from them back to Astarion, pleading, but you are not sure what for.

---

“You can release his hold now.”

You are back at camp, and you have recovered your voice. For a long time, you could not speak. Shadowheart and Halsin tended to your arm, speaking soothing words over you. Gale and Karlach came to sit with you, their faces creased with concern. Wyll, Lae’zel and Jaheira stood at a distance, arguing in hushed voices. All the while, you stared into the distance, thinking of the hatred in Astarion’s gaze, and everything you had done to deserve it.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” Gale says, frowning.  

“We can’t keep him like that forever.”

“The man turned on us. He tried to kill you.”

You look into Gale’s eyes. There is warmth there, streaked with pity.

“Can you blame him?”

Gale scoffs. “Yes, I can.” Then he pauses. His voice softens. “Well, perhaps in the circumstances, in the heat of the moment…” He shakes his head. “But he truly would have killed you, had Karlach and I not intervened. And that is inexcusable, after everything you – all of us - have been through with him. After everything you have done for him.”

Your vision blurs and stings.

“I fucked up, Gale. How could I have fucked up so royally? I should never have let him start the ritual. I should never have agreed with it. I’ve broken him. Seven thousand innocent people will die in agony because of me. Because I was…”

You are not used to burdening others with your emotions. You give and not take, even when you have nothing. When you are nothing. But now, you are afraid that you will break.

“…Because I failed.”

Without hesitation, Gale lays a hand on yours. It is a such a kind gesture that it chokes you. You have always been the one to look after others, to give them what they need. That is your role. It is what you exist for. If you cannot do that, what are you good for?

“Those things were never your responsibility, my dear friend. They were never your burdens to carry.”

“But he trusted me.”

“That does not mean that you must give him everything, or watch him destroy thousands of people and himself.”

You ball your fists. “Then I should have told him that, from the start. But I went along with it-”

“Because you love him.”

You have not spoken about this with Gale or anyone else. You know it is common knowledge that you and Astarion are entangled, but you have always wanted to hide the love you feel for him away. You have always known that whatever it was that lay between you was fragile. Astarion himself was not sure what you were.

Attachment does not come easily to you. You know that if you give people what they need, there is a chance that they will stay. But there is also a chance that they will snap their heads one day and no longer want what you have to offer. And then, they will go.

You have always tried to guard yourself against the pain of that departure. Even with Astarion.

“Many a mistake has been made for love,” Gale continues. “I understand this better than most.”

“This is a monumental fuck up,” you breathe. “Not a simple mistake.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Do you really want to start a competition about the magnitude and impact of our mistakes? Because if so, I believe that I would be a clear winner, and some others in our camp may also be worthy competitors.”

You are too weary to laugh. Too broken.

“Besides, I am sure if we knock our considerably enriched heads together, we can find a way to open those dungeons and release those prisoners. Especially with such a range of talented and well-resourced allies to draw on.”

You can see the questions taking shape in Gale’s head already. You give him a weak smile.

“You are only human, my friend. I know you try to be better than any of us, but even you are permitted to make mistakes.”

When he clasps you tightly to his chest, you let yourself rest into it. You want so badly to believe he is right, but you are not sure you can.

---

As you approach Astarion, you gesture behind you. You know the rest of them are all watching, wary and ready to strike at the faintest sign of danger. But you stand them down, and they linger at a respectful distance.

Released from Gale’s hold, Astarion hunches over slightly, like a cat backed into a corner. He knows he is outnumbered and vulnerable. He does not lunge towards you. His arms lie flat against his sides, his hands free of weapons. His fangs are hidden behind the tight line of his lips.

“What you did to me is worse than staking me. You might as well finish me off now.”

Every word is a cut. You flinch at each one, but you do not avert your gaze from his. Any gentleness, affection, and truth in those eyes is gone, locked behind blood-red walls. And in his abject contempt, you find a kind of freedom.

If he has already left, then you need not please him. If you are not enough, then it does not matter what you say. You have lost him already. He does not love you.

So you say what you wish you had said, from the moment that he showed you who he was, the moment you fell in love with him.

“The ritual would have killed you, your siblings, and seven thousand innocents.”

“Spare me,” he snarls. “You nodded and cooed at me, like you understood me, like you would help me. ‘I’m here for you, Astarion. I’ll help you Astarion. Tell me what you need and I’ll be there, Astarion.’ You fucking liar. You godsdamned hypocrite. You never understood me. You never wanted to help me.”

His fury is like a lash, but the pain is sobering. You brace yourself against it.

“I never said I would help you become Cazador, or let you kill thousands of people for power.”

“Please.” His laugh is vicious. “I told you from the start what I wanted. If you didn’t see that, then you’re blind. Delusional. A self-righteous idiot, living in a fantasy.”

“You wanted to be free, Astarion. To be safe.”

“You never wanted me to be free,” he seethes. “You liked me weak and broken, so I could come to you on my knees, and you could nod and smile and promise to fix me. Your own personal project, kept on a leash like a little puppy. Cuddly, harmless Astarion, healing from his hurts, all thanks to you. My saviour.”

Behind you, you can hear voices erupting and subsiding, a scuffle of shifting feet. You are grateful when no one interjects or rushes forward. This is for you and Astarion alone. It is your punishment to bear, and his truth to hear.

“You took all that power away from me,” he hisses. “It wasn’t your choice to make. It was my decision. You’re worse than Cazador.”

The words wound you like arrows, but you half expect them. You have called yourself worse things.

“Cazador would have just compelled me not to do the ritual. But you gave me a taste of what I wanted, then ripped it away from me. You’re the cruellest bitch I’ve ever known.”

You do not care that hot tears stream down your cheeks, and that your voice trembles. You let yourself say what needs to be said, not what you think he wants to hear.

“You’re right.” You take a step towards him. “I should never have let you do it. I went along with it, when I should have pushed back. But I wanted you to feel you always had someone on your side. Someone who understood. I wanted you to feel loved.”

His disgust does not deter you anymore.

“You think that this is all you are. You can’t see beyond it. What was done to you. What he made you do to others. But it isn’t. It never was. You were always strong. You can be more than what happened to you. You are more than what happened to you.”

“Like you?” he sneers. “A hero? Someone so chained to other people’s approval that you’re lost without a saving mission? That’s what you so desperately want to see when you look at me, isn’t it?”

“No.” You are surprised by the strength of your voice. “Only someone who won’t let thousands of people suffer just because you did.”

Jolts of anger course through him. “You have no idea what I suffered,” he growls. “No idea what I am owed. If you had the faintest idea of it, if you truly loved me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You would be burning the world with me.”

You have listened silently before, when he talked about this. What he deserves after two centuries of agony. His comeuppance. You did not challenge him because you were afraid. Afraid you would offend him. Terrified that he would leave.

“Look around you, Astarion,” you say now. “Look at everyone here. We have all suffered. No, none of us have suffered what you have suffered, and I am so deeply sorry for that. But Cazador is dead and no one else will have to suffer under him. And now, no one will have to suffer under an Ascended either.”

A snide sound of disbelief. “You are so full of bullshit I can hardly breathe from the stench.”

Your tadpole rages, ramming into his mind. You expect the resistance of loathing, but he does not fight. He allows you in. And for the first time, you show him. You let him see him your parents, and your pain, and everything that was done to you. You open yourself up, the masks you put on that you recognise in him, the performances you too are familiar with in the economy of survival. You show him your promise to yourself, and your choices, and the failures you carry around with you like a noose.

He glares at you after it is over, but you think there may be less hatred in his eyes than there was a moment before.

“Why did you show me that?”

It is easier, now that there is nothing to hide.

“Because if we all burned the world because of our suffering, there would be nothing left. And because you said you wanted something real.”

He seems backfooted that you mention it. His first moment of honesty. Your first moment of connection. The beginning of your love.

“This is real, Astarion.” Your gaze is a waterfall. You cannot stop it. “Real love, messy and painful, with a real person who makes mistakes and tells you things that you don’t want to hear. Someone who sees who you really are and who you can be, the worst and the best of you, and still loves you anyway.”

He steps back, his features clenched in spasm. You think of how his hands felt on your skin, cold as ice to the touch, yet warming you inside out like summer sunlight. You remember the lilt of his laughter as you traded jibes and jests under the furs of your tent on cold nights. You breathe in his scent on the air for the last time, those hints of bergamot, rosemary and brandy that you could recognise anywhere. You are already mourning their loss.

“Then I don’t want it,” he spits out. “And I don’t want you.”

And then he leaves.

---

You are alone. You are lying in a clearing a short walk away from camp. It is spring, and the smell of earth and grass hangs around you as the sun streaks through the trees above you. Your ears are drunk with birdsong.

It has been weeks since he left. You would be lying if you said you did not miss him. Sometimes you feel his absence like a presence. It haunts and stalks you, and when the darkness comes, you cling to your pillow in your tent and weep through waves of grief that surge through you like labour pains. But at other times, you find a kind of solace in your solitude. You are not shackled by a desperation for love from a man so broken he is not capable of giving it. You are not trapped by your own brokenness in this yearning, this ache to fill the holes in his heart. And this freedom is worth the pain.

When you had asked Astarion what he wanted, he had never known. And perhaps that had struck you so deeply because you had never known either. You had never truly known what you wanted, who you really were outside of what you could do for others. You thought you were only a thing to be used, a tool to fill someone else’s need, whatever that may be. You could be good at that. You needed to be good at that. If not, you were nothing.

But you are learning. Since he has left, you are learning that you are more than that. You are learning that you can live with your mistakes. That you are enough, just as you are.

You find that you sing now, even when there is no one around. Even when it is not for a performance, or for support in battle. You sing for yourself, and you take pleasure in it, even when your notes are off key and you cannot remember the right words, even when no one is there to praise you or reward you for it. For the first time, you are enjoying your gift for no other reason than that you wish to. It is a gift, and it comes without dread or shame or conditions.

You are humming softly as you stroll back to camp. Scratch greets you with a frenzied tail, and you roll around with him, kneeling as he plasters sloppy kisses all over your face. The simple joy of this dances over the cracks in your heart. When Scratch suddenly stops, you are almost disappointed. You glance in the direction where he has bounded, an ecstatic flurry of delight. Then your eyes catch on silver shining in the sun, two bright rubies on white silk. Your breath halts.

There he is. He is different, but the same. You look at each other. And in that moment, it is enough that there is no hatred in his eyes, which flicker with uncertainty. It is enough that his mouth is not curled into a sneer, and his brow is soft and even. It is enough that you have both survived. You have shown each other who you are, and you are still here.

He reaches his hand out to you, and you take it.

---

Liked this fic? You can find more of my work here.

[lucrezianoin]

Astarion-centric fics recs (49 fanfics)

I will divide them by ship. They are all complete unless specified. Also, if a fic is not here it does not mean that I did not like it, I could have forgotten it or just not seen it given that there is a lot of Astarion content!

Just make sure to read all the tags warnings when you open the AO3 page. I added the non-ship focused but Cazador focused ones at the end.

Also it feels weird to rec my own fics, but in case you want to read astarion h/c I am writing you can find me here at LadyRagnelle (for now all DarkUrge or Tav/Astarion).

Regarding if this reclist might be useful for you... there are a lot of Astarion fics, a lot of tags used and a lot of preferences! I have a very particular preference for a specific kind of fic (h/c, whump, softness, mainly) and in the case of Astarion I tend to not read nsfw, usually. So if you have been around my blog and you think we might share fics preferences... maybe these are the fics for you too! I will update this post with time.

I am trying to add a small description to all the fics, but I prioritized adding the links, so some of them do not have a description yet, but they were beloved in my bookmarks.

GEN (no ship)

Prying eyes (unsupermarket) - One of my absolute favorite. Karlach and Astarion share one of Astarion's nightmares (thanks to the tadpoles).

Reflecting endless down the hall (Asidian) - Each chapter is dedicated to one of the companions and the way they interact with Astarion, each chapter connected to a part of his past and trauma.

TAV (OR DARK URGE)/ASTARION

After all that I can do for them is done (votiveviscera)

To Aid and be aided (Beppoberry) - Post Cazador, taking care of each other.

Between the lines (Slothquisitor) - Amazing story about Tav gifting Astarion books.

Broken mechanism (laquearia) - Character study on Astarion's "Don't touch me".

Copper blood and silver hearts (netherprince)

The darkest corner of Baldur's Gate (Nebulad)

(Don't) lose your head (CL34R)

Don't you hear me praying? (ridgeline) - Short haunting story about Astarion's trauma.

And his pretty hand hold my leash (osiris_ryes) - one of the few nsfw fics in this rec list. This has some amazing Dark Urge writing and manages to use nsfw scene without ignoring the consent issues present in the game.

Hold me without hurting (fairbutnotsomaiden) - Astarion disassociates, Tav is kind.

I could feel my life begin (Flowercitti)

I have a good place to hide (Flowercitti)

I know how this will end (MyFandomCausesHanaji) - Amazing Dark Urge story about Durge trying to stop themselves from killing Astarion - and reliving the same day over and over.

A long dead pulse (enthugger) - Post-Cazador, Tav takes care of Astarion.

Made / Unmade (Adaphyl)

Mortal shortfall (titasylase) - Giving a gift to Astarion + act 1 angst, perfect combination.

Not something that I was but what I played (WitchyBee)

Out of wine and flowers (enthugger)

Porcelain (cweepa) - Astarion is sick, and he really cares about how he looks. Absolutely stunning story full of very delicate hurt/comfort and angst. I've reread this so many times.

Savages (cweepa) - Astarion finds a kitten.

Seducere (Tlon) - This is THE fanfic. I remember waiting every night for the new chapter. It narrates Astarion's past and his present in the game. Heartbreaking and haunting.

Specter (justfortune) - post game fanfic about Tav and Astarion's new life together, with some interesting concepts about personal space and sharing life.

Suck the rot right out of my bloodstream (Flowercitti) - I love Flowercitti's stories so so much. This one is specifically about consent. Please, read all their fics.

Vanity items (Flowyen) - Incomplete fic, but still amazing. Just Astarion receiving genuine compliments.

You only feel it when it’s lost (gettin’ through still has a cost) (Flowercitti) - Flowercitti's Tav takes care of Astarion after Cazador.

The way you are (imprinted on a page) (cryptidvaquero) - Tav draws Astarion as a gift.

Was it something you ate (Anoke)

Water down what I call being grateful (Flowercitti) - This fic was written for one of my prompts. I will be eternally grateful because I love stories that deal with looking right through Astarion's seductions.

HALSIN/ASTARION

Animal I have become (Ulfrsmal)

Free (Faetality)

Handmande (BerlinBelin) - One of my favourite, absolutely stunning series about touch starved Astarion trying to ask (with difficulty) fo non-sexual intimacy.

Known in its aching (BerlinBerlin) - sick fic with so much tenderness.

Never gonna fall for (modern love) (Dwinkle) - Halsin offers Astarion his blood.

Through sneers and words snide (BerlinBelin)

HALSIN/TAV/ASTARION

Working on it (casswathever) - Very well written series with multiple fics, I particularly loved the relationship discussions.

WYLL/ASTARION

To die with you (WaterSeraphim)

A dream of sweet things (Asidian) - delicious h/c, trust issues and some nightmares too.

Innocence died screaming (Flowercitti) - Wyllstarion fic that starts from Astarion's past with Cazador, from his turning into a spawn. Ongoing.

KARLACH/ASTARION

Repairs (Asidian) - Heartbreakingly angsty fic about Karlach finding her touch again and Astarion expecting their first night to go a certain way.

The Things you miss (Asidian) - A very sweet fic about Karlach and Astarion interacting.

ASTARION/SEBASTIAN

A lyric on your tongue (justfortune) - Sebastian and Astarion meet.

GALE/ASTARION

The heat is only skin deep (ThatKorka)

POLY

Sharing (Asidian) - a touch of angst, touch starved characters, act 1 spoilers so slightly present consent issues.

CAZADOR-FOCUSED (no secondary ship)

Fake it (deerna)

Lost and never found (arenathesia)

Thou art mine (sophos) - The story of Astarion learning how to keep Cazador happy.

your reflection can't offer a word (to the bliss of not knowing yourself) (undermounts)

[shadesofecclescakes]

Are you a big fanfic reader? What have you read lately and what's been your favourite fic so far?

Oh mannnnnnnnn. Why don't you ask me to pick a favourite child while you're at it???

Just kidding. I don't have kids. But I assume having to pick a favourite would be hard if I did.

So, am I a big fanfic reader? YES. And what haven't I read lately? We are lucky enough to have so many talented writers in this fandom that it's possible to subscribe to numerous multi-chapter fics to the point where you're just constantly getting update emails. Which I do. It's great. It gives me something to do at work aside from, y'know, work.

*Me at work being smug about being paid to read porn* (Also I just wanted to look at this gif)

So what is currently on my endless update list? Coming up after the cut!

I am an absolute whore for human AU, so if you like that then you will probably like:

The Cure for a Broken Heart by @rofell

a medical student AU based in the Canadian medical system (I'm a Canadian so I was pretty excited about that). It manages to tackle the continued systemic discrimination of Indigenous people in our medical system (and in general), homophobia and the ensuing trauma from those things all while also being informative, funny, sweet, romantic and hot af. Like. It's so good.

Free by @maaikeatthefullmoon

This is another one with with a heavy topic that also does a great job of making sure to break it up with some excellent fluff, hurt/comfort and humorous moments. And it's handled with the sensitivity and thoughtfulness necessary to write something that takes place in a mental health ward and deals with some intense situations. Definitely make sure to read those author notes before diving in. They lay it out very thoroughly.

The Sincere Way by @tsyvia48

A martial arts AU. Crowley is a karate sensei and Aziraphale is his student. Slow burn that keeps you on the edge. The screams I have scrumt at my screen over this one. Plus you learn a lot about karate (but it never gets boring or over-explainey. Excellently balanced) which is pretty cool. Mostly light (there is some angst. This is the Good Omens fandom. I think we are all sad, wet chihuahuas at heart). Funny and sweet.

Terminus by @emotional-support-demon-crowley

Plus One by @caedmonfaith

Astronaut AU. Aziraphale is an astronaut who meets his mission controller, Crowley, over the comms system when he finds himself in need of assistance.

Super cool concept and really well-done in my opinion. Like, I don't do any space or physics-related work (ok I straight-up failed math 9) but I find it entirely believable. And it's well-written which is the entire point. Cute, funny slow burn with an intriguing mystery happening in the background.

Aziraphale has family money but a shitty family (except for Muriel! Never Muriel!) and his shitty brother Gabriel is getting married to shitty Michael, an Earl's daughter.

Aziraphale's family disproves of his entire life pretty much and he has been lying to them about having a boyfriend. Now they are expecting him to bring said boyfriend to the wedding. His famous footballer friend sets him up with their mechanic, Crowley.

It starts as a slow-burn but becomes a hilarious, smutty romp that just gets more and more insane. The chapter titles alone have made me cackle out loud.

Some older human AUs I'm a huge fan of include Old Vines by @sevdrag. Crowley owns a vineyard and Aziraphale is a wine critic. It is so amazingly written. It makes me think of the author Joanna Harris (Chocolat, The Five Quarters of the Orange) because it's SO beautifully, vividly descriptive that I end up craaaaaving wine. So have a bottle on hand if you're giving this a read.

Also the love story in this. My god. I devoured it. The story and the (many bottles of) wine.

There is also Loosely Ballroom by marginalia_device and mortifyingideal. It's a Strictly Come Dancing (Dancing with the Stars in North America) AU and it is so. Fucking. Good.

But it comes with a disclaimer. It's unfinished and looks likely to stay that way. But honestly? Still worth it. It's nearly finished (I think) so you have most of the story. And it's just SO good. It's been a while since I read it but it was one of the first human AUs I read and what got me hooked on them.

If you're still with me...nice! Just know that was me holding back and that isn't my entire list by a long shot. If you want more recs, feel free to message me and also share your own!

I just finished Slow Show the actor AU by @mia-ugly and yes please.

Some serious angst, pining and hot hot smut.

There is another long-form multi-chapter actor au I loooved but I can't remember the name for the life of me. Just that the show they were on was basically good omens and that they swapped roles with great success (inspired by the whole Michael thinking Neil wanted him to play Crowley when he wanted Aziraphale thing).

Thanks for the ask! That was really fun!

[luna-writes-stuff]

Eternally Missed, Bilbo Baggins

Song link

Fanfic, fem! reader

Fluff, mutual pining/oblivious reader

Word count: 3295

Tw: Not proofread. Race not specified, but could be implied as dwarvish. Self-degrading thoughts, mutual pining. Will they, won’t they. Slight angst. Misinterpreted feelings and actions. Oblivious reader, oops. That’s it?

Summary: Ever since laying eyes on your first, Bilbo knew it was you who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He tries to make this clear incredibly quick, fully aware of how little time he may have. But you were as oblivious as they came, and dismissed his proposals as platonic gestures. Until finally, he snaps, and just decides to tell you.

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“Chase your dreams away.

Glass needles in the hay.”

Throughout the journey, you could only be described as truly oblivious. Maybe not in your eyes, but definitely in those of the company. Their beloved burglar had fallen absolutely head over heels with you, yet there was something within you that simply seemed to not acknowledge it.

In hindsight, you might have seen it, or might have had a slight idea of what was happening, but the last thing you wanted to do was to get your hopes up. Thus, it was mere matter of a polite smile and dismissal without making it sound like a dismissal. You didn’t want to let him down, even though you had no idea of his true intentions.

You see, during the entire time of your travel to Erebor, Bilbo has tried to make it abundandly clear how fond he is of you. But between the running from imminent death, enemies luring around every corner and getting imprisoned every once in a while, the moments were never opportune enough. It didn’t mean that he didn’t try, but clearly, the ambiance was wrong. If he ever wanted to court someone, he’d propose it in his garden, under the clear nightsky of Hobbiton with a warm breeze in the air. Not after recovering for breath after having to run for thirty whole minutes, or in the dirty atmosphere of the Goblin caves. But fate did not seem to be on his side whatsoever. But he was nothing if not adamant.

“The sun forgives the clouds.

You are my holy shroud.”

The first time wanted to make his intentions clear during your stay in Rivendell. The dwarves had been bathing when he approached you, doubt and anxiety apparent in his features - but then again, when wasn’t it?

He had sat down next to you on one of the balconies, talking about anything but the mountain and the now known presence of the orcs. He had spoken about his home in the Shire fondly, recounting many tales of friends and neighbours. It was a nice distraction after the adrenaline of the travel had worn off.

In turn, you had spoken about your home and those waiting for you. He remembered the hesitance in his voice when he asked you about a suitor. You hadn’t even properly answered him at that to begin with. At first, you began to laugh, and talked about your parents. He thought you were mocking him, even though that was extremely unlinke you. But when you continued to rant and talk, it appeared to him that you had no idea what he was actually asking you. And he didn’t have it in him to correct you or to properly ask you. Perhaps it was a bit too early. You just met a handful of days ago.

Fortunately, he did not leave it at that.

“I just don't care if it's real.

That won't change how it feels.”

The second time he tried was when the group was making their way out of Rivendell. He had gotten some good rest and found himself comfortable enough to bring the conversation back up.

But you were distracted. He couldn’t tell back then, but he certainly could now. The talk with Bilbo had left you somewhat homesick. The comfort of Rivendell was almost begging for you to stay. You wanted to help the dwarves - more than anything, but you understood the comfort hobbits sought in their own homes.

You had given him brief, one-worded answers, your gaze absent. It had broken his heart that day. If you weren’t making your disinterest clear the day before, you certainly had then. It caused him to be silent for the rest of the travels until you crossed the mountains. Much to his relief, you stayed close to him, and didn’t part during the fight of the giants, but the new hit of adrenaline caused him to cling to you the entire time, a mutual action. Neither of you had realized how close the two of you were until you were roughly separated after a rough boulder collided between the two of you.

“I just don't care if it's real.

That won't change how it feels.

No, it doesn't change.”

That night in the cave you kept circling Bilbo. He had almost fallen from the cliff if it hadn’t been for Thorin. And the idea made you inexplicably sick. You liked Thorin, even as he had been harsh from the start, but the fact that you weren’t able to dangle off the cliff to save Bilbo had left you feeling somewhat powerless. And the only comfort you could offer the hobbit was your company and your tales.

It had caused his hopes to resurface again. Of everyone out there, you wanted to sit with him, and talk with him. Perhaps your absent answers were simply because you were tired, or too focused.

He didn’t know how to bring the topic back up, though. It had caused an awkward silence after you finished your talk. He still couldn’t quite tell if he was grateful for the floor to - literally - fall through or not.

“And you can't resist

Making me feel eternally missed.”

The first time he swore he could have kissed you, was after Azog’s confrontation with Thorin. The battle had left the king defenseless, and you had rushed to his aid. At your actions, Bilbo blindly followed, making sure his eyes were on you constantly. The eagles had come just in time to sweep you off to safety, but the entire flight had left him nauseous. If it wasn’t for Gandalf, both you and Thorin would have lain on that floor, completely lifeless. To make matters even worse, you had landed on a different eagle. So, Bilbo had no choice but to simply sit there with a heavy feeling in his stomach until he could finally stand again.

And when he did, he rushed towards you. This could have been his moment. He could have swung his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him, his lips finally touching yours in a manner he was only able to dream off, but when you stood a few inches from him, something in him had told him to stop.

In that moment, you swore he was going to kiss you. Instead, he gave you an uncomfortable hug, followed by two brief pats on the back. He had turned around immediatelym refusing to let you see his reddening face, leaving you with a slight frown. If he was going to kiss you, you might have just let it happen.

“And you can't resist.

And you can't resist.

Making me feel.”

The rest of the journey had been awful for him. In his mind, that awkward reunion kept lingering. His chance had been right there and he refused to take it for whatever reason. And to top it all of; you seemed to grow more distant from him, and it hurt him deeply. It bothered him so much, that eventually, the company began catching on. Fili was the first one to notice, and had given him a good talk about courtship and whatnot. It was all in good nature, but it had left Bilbo with more details than he might have wanted.

But simple hints in conversation seemed to not do the trick. And maybe dwarven courting ideals weren’t the best, but they were certainly worth the try. When he made his first move according to Fili’s advice, more dwarves began to catch on.

“Chase your dreams away.

Glass needles in the hay.”

He had taken his sweet time hunting down anything he could find. Food, especially for you, to prove that - in Fili’s words - he could provide. But when he had a chance of slaying a rabbit, he didn’t have it in him. Instead, he came back with fresh mushroom, some non-poisonous berries and leaves that would make an excellent soup. It wasn’t hunting, but it still gave him the idea that - yes; he could provide.

You didn’t think much of. You find it nice, and thanked him fondly for it. Yet, there were others in the company that might have been hungry, so you gave it to Bombur, so he could use it in his meal for the group. Bilbo had told you this was okay, but he couldn’t help but feel slight heartbreak when you asked him.

He wasn’t being clear enough. Stupidly enough, he seemed to take comfort in Fili’s words, so he had returned to him that same night, telling the dwarf about what had happened. He agreed that you might just need some bolder insinuations. So, it was time for the next part.

“The sun forgives the clouds.

You are my holy shroud.”

It was at Beorn’s house when he approached you with a small wooden sculpture he made. It couldn’t have been bigger than your palm. It was sloppy and crude, and nowhere near the excellent craft of the dwarves, but Fili assured him that it wouldn’t matter if the feelings and intentions were true. He had tried to create the birds you mentioned in your tales about home. You would speak about them fondly when he asked how your place was.

Again, you accepted the gift with much glee, thanking him an endless amount of times. A warm hug was shared - one that would remain in Bilbo’s mind for a long time. It was soothing, unlike the uncomfortable embrace shared upon the rock. This was heartfelt, and genuine. He remembered thinking that this was it; you had accepted.

But, you stuffed it in your pocket, promising to keep it close, before showing it off to the rest of the company. And that was it. No other words mentioned to him, or even slight hints that you were catching on. You seemed to remain oblivious. Now, Bilbo truly couldn’t tell whether this was because you simply had no idea what was happening, or if this was your way of letting him know you weren’t interested.

“I just don't care if it's real.

That won't change how it feels.”

There were so many more times where he tried to make his feelings clear. Countless conversations were held, more gifts were shared, he fought at your side, he would continue to bring you food, even if it was to be shared with the company. And you didn’t seem to catch on to anything.

What Bilbo hadn’t known was the true moment of the defeat you held whilst imprisoned by the woodland elves. Bilbo hadn’t known how you had been sitting against the wall in your cell, your knees up to your chest. He didn’t hear your own degrading words circling around in your mind about how you were just making things up. About how someone as sincere and kind as Bilbo could never show true interest in someone like you. How you had cursed yourself to stop thinking every gift he gave you, was to show you he wanted to court you - even though you were right to think those things.

The dwarves didn’t dare to speak about it. They didn’t know your words, but they knew your looks. They wouldn’t intervene. They knew how precious and fragily courtship was; one wrong word and it could cause huge grief on either side. Women were most treaured in their culture, and they’d rather die than see your heart break into a million pieces if Fili were to slip up or Ori would say something out of their norms.

They didn’t dare to let Bilbo know how helplessly you had told them that Bilbo wouldn’t come for them. That he was off to safety - as you had wished.

“I just don't care if it's real.

That won't change how it feels.

No, it doesn't change.”

It wasn’t until Smaug had finally been slain that Bilbo decided enough was enough. It wasn’t until Thorin had gone completely mad, that he decided that now would be the excellent time to share yet another one of your precious conversations.

Somewhere in the treasure chamber, you had collapsed behind a huge golden pile. Here, Thorin couldn’t see you. A brief break would surely escape his eyes.

You had shot up at the sound of footsteps, pretending to be searching through the endless piles of jewels. You were tired; your muscles were aching, your head was pounding from the golden light, you were starving and you felt as if you were going to fall asleep if you were to lie down again.

When you noticed Bilbo’s form approaching on top of the mountain you were working on, you uttered a sigh of relief, collapsing once again, knowing he wouldn’t dare to alert Thorin of your short break.

“And you can't resist

Making me feel eternally missed.”

“There you are,” He spoke, not needing to lower his volume, as the clattering of gold bounced off the walls, drowning out enough noise. You looked up at him with a kind smile: “Not much else to go to.” He frowned, sitting down beside you as he studied your features.

“I’m sorry, Bilbo,” You sighed, rolling your shoulders. “I’m exhausted.” “I can tell.” He muttered, worried evident in his eyes, a glimpse you caught. “Sorry.” “No, it’s fine.” You dismissed, knowing he had no ill intentions. Silence fell over the two of you, though this one wasn’t uncomfortable. In the weirdest location, it brough some sense of peace.

Bilbo fished into his pockets, placing a piece of bread and a small flask on your lap. “I brought you this.” Your heart warmed at the sight, a feather-light feeling entering your chest: “Thank you,” “I couldn’t sneak a full plate in. Thorin would notice.” “This is fine, Bilbo,” You assured, immediately starting your small meal. ”Thank you.”

“Yes,” he mumbled.

“You can't resist.

You can't resist.

Making me feel.”

He didn’t quite know what to do when you were eating. He came here with the intention of being honest with you. No turning around anything, no sugar-coating, just the proposal. If it was to be brief and boring, than so be it.

But, once more, something held him back. It didn’t seem right. He was going to run off this night for the Arkenstone, so if you rejected him, he wouldn’t really have to face you afterwards. But a hurtful rejection followed by betrayal might not have been the smartest move either. He was too much in his head when the words suddenly flew out, even surprising him: “Do you like me?”

You stopped chewing at the words, swallowing harshly as you looked at him, confusion in your eyes as your eyebrows furrowed together: “Beg your pardon?”

“You can't resist

Making me feel eternally missed.”

Bilbo recovered quickly, coughing slightly as he tried to defend himself. “It’s just that, throughout the journey, you keep creating distance between us. And we were so close at the beginning.” You nodded your head at that, cursing yourself silently for giving him the completely wrong idea. “Yes,” You hissed. “I do like you, Bilbo. And I apologize if I gave you the wrong impression.”

A huge weight lifted off his shoulders at your words, his chest suddenly feeling a lot less restricting than it suddenly had.

“You can't resist.

You can't resist

Making me feel.”

He watched your hands wander to your pockets, pulling out a familiar pebble as you anxiously toyed with it. Bilbo had given it to you after your escape from Mirkwood. You seemed to not be there completely, so he gave you a rock from the river so you had something to fidget with while Balin talked to Bard. He hadn’t known how much it actually soothed you, if only for the simple though of it.

“You kept that?” He asked curiously. “Of course I did,” You smiled, taking the pebble out of your pocket and laying it in the palm of your hand. “It was a gift. What did you think I would do with it?” “I don’t know.” The hobbit spoke honestly. “I’ve never seen them after I handed them to you.”

You breathed an ‘ah’ of understanding, before storing it back in your coat. “I kept them in my bag. Most of it has been stolen by the elves now, but some things still remain. You didn’t think I’d get rid of them, right?” When he didn’t answer to that, your hands found his, unconsciously sending goosebumps up his arm: “I would never. Not voluntarily.”

“Thank you.” He muttered.

“And you can't resist

Making me feel eternally missed.”

“Bilbo,” You began, retreating your hands as you thought over all that he had done for you. You might have been oblivious, but you weren’t stupid: “I do not wish to give you any unwanted impression of anything, but…” You trailed off, holding your breath as a bad kind of butterflies entered your stomach. “You have given me many things and kept me safe a numerous amount of times, and my gratitude exceeds my words, but…”

You didn’t know what to tell him. You didn’t know how. And there was no way to bring it lightly. Thus, with a hard swallow, you threw it out. “You do know that your actions look an awful lot like dwarven courting customs? I am pretty sure the company is convinced I am your spouse.”

His breath hitched at that. He came here to tell you, and now you were starting his conversation. What was he going to tell you? Honesty seemed so difficult now, but there was something in your eyes that hadn’t been there before. Some faint glance of recognition. And it gave him confidence: “They are.” He breathed, before quickly correcting himself. “Courting customs. Fili taught me.” “Oh,” “Yes,”

A second silence laid heavily, and neither of you really knew what to say to the other. So, per usual, Bilbo took the lead after a handful of hesitant seconds. “Um, but I’ve probably gotten the wrong hints from you so-”

“No,” You denied. “No, no, no. It’s simply that…This was intentional?”

“Yes.”

“Oh,”

“And you can't resist

Making me feel eternally missed.”

“But I understand if the feelings aren’t returned.” Bilbo added, already standing up from his seat. He was about to leave when your voice forced him to turn around: “Why me?” He couldn’t help but let a quiet scoff of confusion out. “I’m sorry?” “Of all the people out there, why me?”

Why you? He really couldn’t tell. He hadn’t met anyone in the Shire, and the way his life would have gone if it hadn’t been for Gandalf showing up, he might have never found anyone. Why you? He didn’t know. And he was honest to voice it: “I just know.”

“Oh,” You repeated, the sound coming out more as a breath than a pronounced word. “I am sorry. I wasn’t blind, though I doubt that will make you feel better.” You admitted. “I didn’t want to imagine things that weren’t there.” You didn’t see the way Bilbo’s face softened at that, or the way his heart fluttered when you finally spoke those words. “Thought I would save myself the heartbreak.” “You didn’t have to.” He sighed. Once more, he prepared to leave. And once more, he was interrupted by you.

“Bilbo?” “Hm?” He hummed as he turned around, a faint glimpse of hope in his heart. It only grew as you asked him your next question: “Once we get out of this, where will we go?” A bright smile came from his face as his breath hitched significantly. “Home, I suppose.”

You copied his smile, nodding your head at him.

“I’d like that.”

“And you can't resist.

And you can't resist

Making me feel.”

[bunnyluvx]

the hanged man.

featuring: julian devorak x gn!reader. (w/ asra!)

summary: the morning after the dock talk.

warnings: death mention. nothing else.

a/n: HELLO SWEETIES!! i present thee with my first fanfiction!! all of my other content has been hcs/imagines up until this point and i am very excited about it! i did not expect for my first fanfic on here to be angst but i got so giddy about this idea that i couldn't wait. i am about to finish nadia's route and omg i am so nervous???? literally one more book, then i find out which ending i got. i REALLY want her reversed ending but will not be completely displeased if i get her upright ending. we shall see within the next couple of days. thank you to the ppl who gave constructive criticism to help me better this fanfic!! proofread. now enjoy your angst >:3

date started: 10:24PM, july 4th, 2024. date finished: 9:30PM, july 8th, 2024.

divider credit: @thecutestgrotto

wc: 1.9k

Sun pours in through the window beside your bed. It tickles your skin, urging you to wake from your slumber. The light tries to pull the covers off of you as the day calls your name, but you do not answer. You lay curled up on your side, blankets huddled around you in a cocoon. You don't carry the usual motivation that you have to get up and get things done, not today. All you want to do is hide in the blankets away from the world and stay there forever. So many emotions that are far too heavy for you to carry weigh on your shoulders, and if sleeping forever was an option, you would have dozed back off by now. But the sun is persistent in its mission at waking you, so your eyes begrudgingly peel open.

Your sight is welcomed by the same view that you have been greeted with every morning for the past three years. You lay still for a moment to take everything in. So much has happened ever since the countess asked that you take on the task of finding Count Lucio's killer, Doctor Julian Devorak. The first time that you met him, he had broken into your shop, and you found him again at the Rowdy Raven. Somehow, you managed to run into him again after a few weeks, one thing led to another, and you had fallen in love with the very man that you had sworn to catch for hanging. This romance did not last you very long, for last night, he left you. He told you that he was a disaster waiting to happen, that he didn't want to hurt you. He was so convinced that if you chose him, you would have chosen a horrible fate, and he couldn't let you do that to yourself. He walked you home, and while having dinner with Asra after speaking about your day, you broke. You had spent most of that night in tears with them at your side the entire time, holding you and rubbing your back to comfort you.

You turn around to see Asra exactly where he was when you had fallen asleep; At your side, on their back with their arm extended out to you incase you wanted to curl up against them. He had warned you about Julian, and his words echo in the back of your head. "The only thing he loves more than drama is his own suffering. And he's determined to chase both." You reflect on the way that he spoke of himself when he was fighting with himself about leaving you, and you find it so hard to believe that Julian is anything like how he sees himself. With the little time that you had spent together, you can see Julian's big heart, one that is kind and adventurous and full of love for the people around him. Despite everything that happened in his past, whatever it was, you can't see him as anything more than someone you want to love.

Enough is enough. You cannot lay here and sulk all day, even though that's all you really want to do. Slowly, you manage to sit up from bed, careful with your movements so that you don't wake Asra. You decide to go downstairs to make some tea for yourself, since it always makes you feel better. You trudge to the shop below, still groggy from slumber, and grab the teapot before waking the salamander and politely asking to light a fire for you. The fire flares up, and you make your favorite brew.

After you make your tea, you delicately take the mug into your hands and blow on it before having a sip. A content sigh escapes your lips as your eyes close, savoring the taste on your tongue. You take another slow sip before your eyes open, looking around the shop that you have learned like the back of your hand. You figure that you'll probably need to open up today, which you don't think will be too much of a problem. Standing around won't do you much good, you think, so you decide to stand outside for some fresh air. You make your way to the door and open it, one foot is about to step out of the door when you stop upon seeing something just under your foot. You move it back into the shop, then lean over and see..a letter? Your name is written on the front in handwriting that you have seen in the palace's library, and you know exactly who it's from.

You scoop the letter up from the floor before dashing inside, slamming the door behind you before rushing to the front counter. Anxiety swirls around within your stomach hotly, and your hands slightly tremble as you rip open the letter. You free the paper from its prison and unfold it, then begin to read.

My Dear,

I knew that I wouldn't be able to stay away from you. At the time that I am writing this letter, it has only been a couple of hours since I dropped you back off at the shop. The moment that I walked away, all I wanted to do was come running back to you. My heart was screaming at me to turn around, to ask you to come with me, wherever that meant for us to have gone. I guess that just proves how selfish I am, or maybe just how alluring you are. In the end, the decision that I made was for the better of both of us. We could never be together, no matter how badly we want differently.

Believe me when I say that I did not want this to end the way it has. I have never wanted to cause you harm or heartache. If I could, I would spend the rest of my life taking your pain away. But I have only one purpose in this life, and that is to hurt. I am destined to bring misery to everyone in my life, and to live alone. Choosing a future with me would mean to choose a future full of disappointments, and I do not want to disappoint you anymore. I do not want to disappoint anyone anymore. So I will not burden you with my presence. You will be able to go on with your life, chasing a future that will not wind up with you getting hurt. You are the last person that I want to drag into my mess, so I have to let you go.

Though our time together was short, I enjoyed it all. Every moment with you made me feel more alive than I have ever felt before. It is not often that I find someone who is willing to get into some mischief with me, so finding you and sharing the experiences that we had together is something that I am very grateful for. I am grateful that you allowed me to be in your company for as long as you did, and I am grateful for the kindness and care that you showed me. You have such a gentle, beautiful soul, and everyone who has ever crossed paths with you are the luckiest people on planet to have been able to experience your presence.

I could go on about how lovely you are. You have so much love to give, and you are caring. You had the capacity to care for me, and for that, I am grateful. One day, I can only hope that you will understand that leaving you was for your benefit. I do not want to bring you the suffering that I have brought so many others, so I will spare you of myself. I am struggling to believe that this decision is the right one, honestly. All I can think about is running back to your shop and breaking in again to tell you how sorry I am, and to beg for your forgiveness. That's something that we are going to have to find out together, I guess.

Forever Yours,

Dr. Julian Devorak

You don't know how long tears have been falling down your face. Your chest feels tight, like it's about to burst, and you can't breathe. A hand hovers over your mouth as you stare in horror at the paper in your hand. Too many emotions crash into you all at once for you to even begin processing the words in front of you. You couldn't believe that this is how it's ending between you and Julian. You know that part of why he feels this way about himself is because he has no memory of the night that he allegedly murdered Count Lucio. However, there is also the opposite end of that spectrum; He doesn't remember. There could be a chance that he didn't actually kill the count, and if that's the case, then you need to figure out what actually happened that night. Your blood runs overwhelmingly hot inside you as you ruminate on Julian's irresolution. You feel like you shouldn't even be this upset about someone that you didn't even have a solid relationship with, but you can't ignore the agonizing stabbing feeling in your heart. He could be innocent, but he is more willing to live his life wallowing in his own guilt than to live knowing that the baggage that he is carrying is unneeded.

You are unable to control your body any longer as you collapse to your knees, your loud sobbing betraying the anger that you stirred inside you just moments ago. A brief feeling of regret is drawn from you for even thinking of being angry, leaving as soon as it comes to be replaced with desolation. Grief for what could have been, for what you so desperately wanted this to be, overwhelms you. Shrieks from your voice scream into the empty shop as you hold the letter to your chest with both arms, your torso leaning forward in a fetal position on the floor.

Footsteps scatter down the stairs, and familiar eyes lay upon you. Your cries have awakened Asra, and they are at your side within seconds. His hands are on your shoulders and he sits on the floor with his feet under his butt, his knees propping him up. They watch worriedly as you heave and wail, only when you sit up do they see the letter in your hand. He doesn't say anything, for he knows exactly what has happened. Their eyes darken before they return their focus to you, you are far more important right now. You cry out to whatever spirit will listen, and collapse into Asra's arms. A strong embrace comes around you, only protecting you so much from the hurt of your heart.

You cannot understand what is going inside of Julian's head for the life of you. You do not understand why he feels such a strong need to push you away when all you want is to love him. He has admitted to wanting the same thing, so you feel so confused as to why he just won't let you. You find it difficult to believe that he truly hates himself so much, that he despises the very person that you see so much good in. The fact that he hates someone who took on a curse in which he takes on other's wounds because of his own guilt baffles you. A future without Julian is not a future that you want, but it is what he believes that he deserves. He believes that he deserves to walk the world alone for the rest of his life, and despite the fate that he has condemned himself to, something muffledly admits to you that it is not what he is bound to live.

@BUNNYLUVX ,, all rights reserved. do not copy/plagiarize any of my works or submit it into ai.

[disconnected-from-reality]

Fanfic rec: Bones B&B

Hi~! After so many years, I'm back with a new set of fanfic recommendations! This time it's for a different show, one near and dear to my heart, which is pretty much a give away from the title of this post. Honestly, I've been a fan of Bones for more than a decade now, I've known the show way before I've known Sherlock. But it has only occurred to me this 2024 that Bones might actually have some fanfictions out there. Lo and behold, there are quite a number around, and the next thing I know, I've read enough for a post like this!

For now, I'm listing some of the fanfics that really spoke and hit my heart. Maybe in my next post I'll try to categorize them in some way.

As usual, all works are complete unless stated otherwise. Happy reading!

Quicksand by MoreBonesPlz [Words: <46,783 | T: Suitable for teens] What if after the infamous B&B conversation in the truck during The Doctor in the Photo where Booth told Brennan she'd missed her chance, Brennan didn't acquiesce? What if once opened, she no longer found it possible to close the Pandora's box with respect to her feelings for Booth?

The Whole in the Sum of the Parts by fourth_rose [Words: 21,933 | Mature | Also available in Ao3] Children change things – sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse, and sometimes from the very beginning. Season 1 AU.

The Passenger Seat by cortexx [Words: 3,345 | Teen And Up Audiences | Also available in FFN] Four times someone adjusted Brennan's seat in Booth's car over the years, and the one time she did it to Booth.

Servare Vitas by newscaper [Words: <101,948 | T: Suitable for teens] To Save Lives. A Bones Novel. Brennan helps Booth try to lay old ghosts to rest as he becomes a sniper for the FBI, a decision with life and death consequences that could change everything. 

The Science Teacher in the Public School by FictionWriter91 [Words: <47,114 | T: Suitable for teens] Story is AU with a mix of canon. What if Temperance and Russ were taken with their parents instead of being left behind? What if Brennan is now a well loved science teacher at a public school like her father used to be? Brennan loves her work and her students, especially Parker Booth, who is very talented and adores her. Things couldn't be better. Then she meets Parker's father.

Right from the Start by Christi Whitson [Words: <265,871 | M: Mature] Season 1 re-write, tweaking the details and one of the tertiary characters. Because I think that under the right set of circumstances, BB would have fallen for each other right from the start. Peter is a threat to Brennan, and Tessa doesn't exist. More drama than angst. 

An Aggregation of Maladjusted Companions by jazzyproz [Words: <251,013 | M: Mature] Suffering from a declining solve rate following their returns to DC, Booth and Brennan are forced to attend a team-building convention. Neither of them think they need the workshops or exercises, but it's apparent to everyone around them that if they don't do something, the whole team will soon be falling apart. Can they fix their broken partnership?

Stupid Alpha Male - Ardialene [Words: <9,292  | Suitable for more mature childen] No matter how many times Booth denies it, Brennan knows that her partner is a true alpha male. And she has evidence to prove it.

Let the Games Begin by TRUSSELL33 [Words: <159,075 | M: Mature] What would Booth do if Brennan suddenly came on to him? Written as a challenge on another site but am thinking of turning it into a short story. Let me know if anyone is interested.

Wise Mind by naelany [Words: 13,416 | Teen And Up Audiences | Ao3 Account Required] Temperance had made the - perfectly logical - decision to rebuff Booth’s advances not once, but twice. After all, she was a mundane and he was an online, high order Sentinel and would one day find his Guide. To her mind, there was no point in starting something with the man, no matter how attracted they were to each other, because in the end he would leave her.

Confessions from a Bottle by MoreBonesPlz [Words: <27,052 | T: Suitable for teens] Booth believes he is happy in his relationship with Hannah until an intoxicated Brennan reveals her true feelings for him and makes him question what happiness really means.

Problem Solving, the Booth and Brennan Way by Hannah Taylor1 [Words: <384,802 | T: Suitable for teens] Brennan has a problem she's not sharing.Booth wants to help fix things,as always,only to find the conversation skewing in a direction he'd never expected. Set several months post-The Boy With the Answer.

How My Heart Behaves by mia101 [Words: <57,376 | M: Mature] Brennan thinks she understands what sex is all about...until Booth gives her a glimpse that makes her think otherwise. But who's teaching whom? And what will they learn...?

The Heart Won't Lie by razztaztic [Words: 16,531 | T: Suitable for teens | Also Available in Ao3 | Ao3 Account Required] Alternate ending for 6x09 "The Doctor in the Photo." What if Booth hadn't been there to save Brennan and she was hit by the car?

The Heart of the Matter by fourth_rose [Words: 7,546 | Mature] "What do you mean, you know you can't have me? It's not like you've ever asked!"

The Intern by cortexx [Words: 1,766 | Teen And Up Audiences | Also available in FFN] Brennan is trying to choose a new intern, and is slowly weeding out the ones who are unacceptable candidates. A case of mistaken identity narrows down the competition when one candidate makes an inappropriate comment to Parker about Bones.

Maternal Instinct by tempecameron [Words: <20,878 | T: Suitable for teens] Dr. Temperance Brennan can handle remains that are thousands of years old, but can she keep up with one small child? BB fluff, Parker cuteness, relationship drama, weird author's notes.

Snowed In by Imagination-Parade [Words: <23,752 | T: Suitable for teens] Booth and Parker get snowed in at Brennan's apartment after Parker insists that they spend Christmas with her. Set after 3.09 "Santa in the Slush"

Let me know what you think of this list. I'd love to have some feedback!

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

4, 7, 13, and 19 for the fanfic writing asks

4. Link your three favorite fics right now.

Oh man, you're making me CHOOSE??? This is fucked up and evil actually. Okay. Ugh, there are so many I love... buuut I can probably muster up three currently updating fics. If anyone wants my completed fic recommendations then ask away!

First of all, @angeart 's wonderful(ly evil) Help Me To Breathe, which I have been commenting essays on for a while now. I'm biased because we're friends but this fic does so many things right - it is long but for me it's definitely worth it. How she handles mental health struggles is really poetic whilst remaining grounded, which I appreciate a lot. If you're looking for... 242k words (so far) of scarian angst, this is the fic to check out. It's not finished yet but it is worth waiting for.

Next, @definitelynotshouting 's lost in the dark (he's got a heavy heart) is THE fic that started my obsession with watcher!Grian. It's the fic that inspired my own watcher/listener series (shameless self promo) and it is constantly taking up space in my brain. It is devastatingly sad, but it is about recovery, ultimately, and again I really love how it's being handled so far. Really worth the read.

Finally, @uhohbestie 's There Are Monsters Nearby .... when I say this fic has been living in my head rent free... I mean this fic has been LIVING. THRIVING. in my mind. This is truly classic zombie fiction, where the zombies are kind of second to the relationship drama. I love the explorations of disability in the apocalypse, something I myself have been advocating for in my original writing, and the depictions and emotional beats surrounding cheating, flawed perspectives and jealousy are heartbreaking and so realistic. Wonderful fic. I am in shambles. Please read it.

7. Do you prefer to read short fics or long fics?

My ideal fic seems to be anywhere between 5k and 200k, but then some of my favourites have also been oneshots. I tend to go for any multichapter with more than 1k words per chapter, and any oneshot that takes my interest (though a longer one (5k +) will catch my eye a bit more than a drabble). It's kind of hard for me to tell, because I read a lot of unfinished fics, but I do kind of prefer fics that take months to update but give a 5k + chapter every time... longer *tends* to mean slightly higher quality, but that is not always the case. Agh. I don't know. Every rule can be broken.

13. Do you outline your fics? How much of a headache would someone get if they just looked at an outline of yours without reading the fic?

Yes and no. Multichapters tend to get their own little document for organisation with each chapter broken down into scenes. However, for Comms AU, I quite insanely went into it with no plan or outline. Yes, I am just now getting an outline together. Yes, it is a fic with 5 different timelines happening at once. Yes, I am regretting the lack of plan.

19. Do you edit your fics after you write them, or do you prefer to just hit post and run (because it’s someone else’s problem now)?

I write, then pass at least once (usually twice, sometimes even three times) to edit. My edits usually attempt to flesh out things that feel rushed or don't make sense. My writing is tricky sometimes, I hate writing plainly and that then becomes a weakness when I spend 5 paragraphs describing the texture of the air without actually explaining what's happening. So I try to clean that up. Comms AU gets one edit, usually, because it is just "audio", though with all my fics I sometimes edit as I write - especially if I've taken a break and decide to re-read what I've written.

Thanks for sending these asks! I have discovered that I need to make a longer fic rec post omg...

The ask game!

[sooinbloom]

Hi there! I really love your work! Thank you for working so hard to create an amazing fanfic for us 🫶🏻. I have a request for you. Since I'm a typical person who finds comfort in angst stories, could you please write an angst story about Kyungsoo based on his song 'The View'? Thank you very much!

Answer: when I got this request I literally SCREAMED. Thank you @sooadorable for the request! I have been writing a series and wondered how I could introduce it, and this is the best way because it lines up with the story perfectly! I hope you enjoy this, thank you so much for the request and all of your support! Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The View

genre: angst, drama, Kyungsoo!AU, EXO!AU, romance

word count: 2,011

theme: marriage in trouble, lovers to enemies, separation, impending divorce, broken heart

warnings: use of alcohol, cursing, mentions of self harm, implied smut, sad kyungsoo, depressed kyungsoo

summary: Kyungsoo is separated from his wife and finds comfort in a bottle of Tennessee Whiskey and old home movies as he tries to figure out what to do with the divorce papers he was served. Based off of his song, “The View”.

I stare out into the vast open sky from my living room floor, the sunset paints beautiful colors that canvas the atmosphere above the rolling waves of the Pacific Ocean. I can get lost in moments like this, the times where my head is completely clear and I take in everything around me.

Slowly, effortlessly, the yellows become the golden flecks in her gorgeous eyes. The wind is her touch, soft and sends chills down my spine. The reds are her lips when she gets ready for date nights, putting on lipstick just for me. Even though she didn’t need it, she looked so spectacular in that shade of red. The waves are the promises we made, consistently rolling back to me to remind me that I failed to keep so many. Being here in this kind of scene just isn’t the same without her.

I watched my wife, Mila, walk out of the door and never turn back due to my own stupidity. I haven’t slept well since she left. I haven’t been able to eat on some days. Nothing in my life feels right anymore.

Our vacation home in Malibu looks out onto the shore, for the times we needed to get away from it all and spend time together. Tonight is my last night here before I have to fly back to New York to finish my album and I wish I could stay here longer. It’s the closest thing that I have to being with her.

Everywhere I turn, there’s pieces of Mila in every single thing. She’s in the clouds, the wind, the moon that grows brighter and brighter by the second. The last six months have been hell without her.

Watching old videos of us together has to be a form of self harm, but this is the only way I can see her smile. My eyes are glued to the screen as memories play out from different points in our relationship. From moving in to our first apartment together after we got married. From traveling to Korea to see my family. Waking up in Spain on our European tour together to staying up late in the studio to our honeymoon. I’ve replayed the honeymoon videos over and over, mesmerized as the events play out on screen. We were so young, Mila was 20 and I was 22. I need to be honest with myself, it wasn’t a honeymoon… It was our elopement at Mila’s grandparent’s ranch in Mexico. We stayed in the guest house on the ranch, and it was the happiest we’d ever been.

"Come here." My voice whines from the TV.

"No! Why are you recording us? It’s so weird!" Mila giggles. I grab the phone and the focus is Mila sitting with her leg tucked under her with cheeks tinted pink.

"Look at you, Angel." I breathe, calling her by her nickname. “You’re so gorgeous and you just woke up.”

“Soo!” Mila blushes. She tries to cover her face but I won’t let her.

“Don’t hide your gorgeous face from me.”

The engagement ring and wedding band on her left hand glimmers on screen. The rays of morning light filter into the room and it can’t even compare to her smile. She didn’t need to try at all, she just naturally glowed. I love it when she’s this way, no makeup, hair down and only wearing my t shirt.

I pull Mila by her waist into the frame and kiss her, my arm protectively still around her. I tease her by tracing her lips with mine and smile between kisses, placing her into my lap. I lean and prop the phone on the bedside table and we're in full view on the bed. Mila’s hands run through my hair, something she did when we’d be intimate like this. Her smile fades as she wraps her arms around my neck.

“Soo… I’m worried. I’m scared that us running off and getting married is going to make things worse with my father and brother.” Mila expresses. I press my forehead against hers, holding her tight in my arms.

"Listen to me. No matter what happens, my heart is yours. Angel, we’re married. Nothing can separate us. Not Sungho, not Chanyeol, no one. I know that we both took a risk when we didn’t tell Chanyeol that we were just dating. He’s your brother and my best friend. I can’t imagine how hard it was for you to keep that from your brother. You’re everything to me, my best friend, my life. All I care about is that you’re happy with this decision. They’ll come around, we just have to give it time.” I say lowly.

Mila nods her head, her hands glide down my shoulder to my forearms.

“I hope Chanyeol will come around, him and I are close and I never expected he’d react in the way he did. With my father… He may take longer but it’ll be okay. I’m beyond happy. This feels so right, yeobo.” Mila smiles again, and it’s a personal victory that she’s glowing again. “I just… Don’t know how I feel about you filming us in bed. It’s kind of…”

“Jagiya, stop. This is for our memories. This is our honeymoon. I had to document just how gorgeous you are when you wake up in the morning. You make the world around you envious.” I whisper, caressing her face.

"This is like a dream. I don’t want to go back to reality.” Our eye contact is strong, it never deviates from one another. I run my fingers through her hair and cup her face in my hands.

We fall into a deep kiss, molding ourselves to each other. We break slowly and a fire is ablaze in her eyes, full of want. She pushes me down onto the bed, I roll over until I’m on top of her.

“Look at me, Angel.” I straighten her gaze back to me by guiding her jaw back to face me. I lean down and kiss her velvety soft lips, my hand slides down to her throat. Her soft whimpers fill the room as my lips roam her jaw and down her neck. I stop at her shoulder and smirk into the camera.

“Mila, you’ll never forget this.” I say into the camera and nip her collarbone. She shrieks and holds onto me tighter. Before we go further, Mila grabs the phone and laughs.

“Nice try, Mr. Doh.”

We laugh and she cuddles into me, stopping the recording. I turn the TV off. Seeing my wife smile like that is something I haven’t seen in a long time. Tears threaten my eyes as the moon glows brighter. I can’t even remember when I started drinking or how I got halfway done with my bottle of Tennessee Whiskey. Now there’s nothing left but reminders that she’s not mine anymore. I shouldn’t have been working so much, prioritizing everything else over her, or even worse… I shouldn’t have been such a jealous monster. Being young and stupid, I’d bubble over with jealousy if a man just as much as gazed at her.

To be fair, Mila is a beautiful woman inside and out. She’s so selfless, humble and never afraid to be herself. Mila is known around the world for her music, to say she’s talented is an understatement. Watching her onstage is like a dream, she bursts to life when she performs. The entire world gets to see the woman that I am so proud to call her my wife.

Her physical beauty is just a bonus. Her sun kissed skin seems to glow, her plump lips framed her adorable smile perfectly, I could lose myself in her gorgeous eyes if I could. Her body is a gift from God, effortless curves that would hypnotize me the moment she’d walk into a room. She came right out of my dreams, everything about her is perfect.

It was never a secret that men pined over her and how gorgeous she is. I never checked my jealousy, something she never deserved.

I was certain every man she came across fantasized about her and wanted her the way I wanted her. I was so certain that it made me crazy. It was so bad that we started to fight all of the time and she finally had enough.

I open the sliding glass door to listen to the waves. The warmth from the whiskey offsets the cold night air, I wait for Mila’s arms to hug me into her embrace and when it doesn’t come, my heart splinters. I handled winter and spring without her, but summer reminded me how much worse it is that we’re separated. How she takes shape in the view.

“Mila… I miss you…” I whisper into the night air. The stars and moon start to sway and my vision clouds over. I rub my temples and turn my back to the ocean, glancing over at the divorce papers on the counter. I wrecked my brain relentlessly over what made Mila want a divorce. I didn’t cheat on her, I didn’t ever lay a hand on her and I didn’t lie to her or kept anything from her.

We could work on our problems easily, if she’d just allow it. Our last fight was the worst one, I can’t even remember what words were exchanged but that didn’t matter. What haunted me was that I made her cry. Something I swore I’d never do. I wanted to fix it and Mila wanted nothing to do with me.

Divorce papers.

This is not how I expected our relationship to end. I didn’t want it to end at all. I have to prove it to her that I’m going to change… Once the room stops spinning…

I stumble back and collapse onto the couch, closing my eyes to continue the memory the week we spent together on the ranch when we got married. Mila and I were in bed, cuddled up during one of our late nights. Mila’s fingers dance across my chest, her eyes heavy with fatigue.

“Promise me something, Soo.” She whispers.

“Yes, Angel?”

“Promise me that no matter what happens, we’ll never give up. We’ll never separate. Even if times get difficult, I don’t want to give up.” Mila pleads with her eyes.

“I promise you, Mila. I’ll never give up on you or us. If we somehow get lost or strained… We’ll fix it. I’ll fight for you until the very end, that’s my promise to you.” I reply, kissing her forehead.

“I’ll fight for you too. I’ll fight for us. This is different… Marriage is so different from just dating. You and I are in this together for life. I know I’m stubborn. I know I’m difficult to deal with, I’ll do better.” Mila smirks. I laugh and pin her under me, my forearms are on either side of her head.

“Your attitude is very easy to deal with. You’re a brat sometimes but it’s nothing I can’t handle.” I laugh, kissing her slowly. “But you’re mine, whether you like it or not.”

“I love it. I love you.” Mila smiles. “Our promise is sealed with a kiss, isn’t it?”

I kiss her mouth and cheeks, nodding. “Of course it is, Angel.”

The memory fades from my head. Everything she said that night resounds in my head. I can’t sit her and feel sorry for myself and drink myself to death anymore. She made me promise her that I’d fight for her, and that we’d never separate. It’s my fault she pushed away, it’s my fault she doesn’t want to be near me. I have to fight for her, I have to keep my promise.

The first thing I decided to do is not sign the papers. If Mila wants a fight, that’s what she’s going to get. I can’t take her just being a memory that I can see in the world around me. She has to see that she is my world. She’s my view.

[navstuffs]

Hope

Pairing: Brotherhood!Ezio x GN!Reader

Summary: Ezio knows he shouldn't have hope - but he still hopes that you might be found alive.

Warnings: ANGST, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, reader is tortured, torture!!! , cursing, violence, ezio going through loss again, alternate good ending at the bottom.

Author's Note: hii! this came to me at 1:30 am and i wrote until 3 am. this fanfic has two endings! the true one, bad, sad and painful. and the good one, which is found at the end. so in a certain sense, you can pick the one you think is best! (no one asked but my fav is the bad one) if you want, you can listen to the song that helped me write this fanfic i found by amber run. hope you enjoy!

I'll use you as a warning sign (...)

And I'll use you as a focal point

So I don't lose sight of what I want(...)

And I've moved further than I thought I could

But I missed you more than I thought I would (...)

And I found love where it wasn't supposed to be

Right in front of me

Talk some sense to me

(Amber Run - I found)

It could have been three days or thirty days. You don't know anymore. You try to keep yourself awake, but the pain, thirst, and exhaustion are too much.

It is hard to move. Your legs and arms have been bound with heavy chains since you arrived, and the last piece of food you had was what a soldier threw on the floor four, three nights ago? It had a weird taste, but you were so hungry you ate in one piece.

It had been an ambush. As the mission leader, it was your responsibility to realize that. But you didn't. Giving time for the others to escape, you stayed. You killed as many as you could. You got captured and taken straight to Cesare. 

Cesar first bargained, saying all you had to do was share Ezio's locations and plans. He was going to reward you. He would make you part of the nobility. You spit on his face, getting your first broken rib that night.

They stripped you of your Assassin robe. You knew it was a tactic to shame you, but you didn't care. After being beaten up countless times, your honor no longer matters.

They have tried everything. To droll you in a bucket of water. Burn you with the heated point of a sword. Plucked one or two fingernails until you passed out with the pain. Not counting all bruises on your face and all over your body.

Cesare enjoys seeing you like this. He occasionally stops in front of your cell, tempting you: all you had to do was tell where your other fellow Assassins were. Where Ezio Auditore hid. 

You said nothing. You never opened your mouth. 

You heard from a few soldiers or thought you so, the leader of the Brotherhood was looking for you. Hunting. He had become even more ruthless, killing more and more guards. They had problems recruiting guards now. No one knew when they would get back home after work.

You didn't know if you wanted Ezio to find you, to see you like this. He wouldn't even recognize you.

You could only hope death took you before.

-x-

Ezio hasn't been thinking straight for ten days, four hours, and twelve minutes since the other Assassins returned without you. When he asked for an explanation, his heart already knew the answer. They explained there were too many. You had stayed.

"Dead?" Il Mentore asked, and they could feel the pain in his voice. They don't know.

Ezio didn't freak out. The anger from when he was an inexperienced and immature Assassin came back in full force. He was primarily angry at himself: he shouldn't have let you in. He shouldn't have allowed you to get so close. Why you had to be so stubborn? Why he accepted your help?

That same night, Ezio went out. Alone. Hunting for something to take his anger. Ezio didn't know when he stopped, but when he came to Tiber Island, his vests were full of blood.

Ezio fell into a chair, the hideout too quiet without your presence. Being the strategic leader at his side. Ezio wanted to feel your warmth. Your company. Your love. He can feel the tears dropping from his eyes, and he doesn't try to control them. He lets them run free.

When he went to bed, he had nightmares. Ezio saw his dad and his siblings hanged, screaming for help, and he can't do anything about it. Cristina dying in his arms, declaring her love, and he can't do anything about it. He saw you lying in a fetal position, your body pierced by arrows, blood dripping until his feet. Ezio tried to move but can't, desperately watching you die. 

Ezio couldn't save any of them.

-x-

When Machiavelli brings news that the templars are keeping an Assassin in a secret location, Ezio tries not to be hopeful. Deep inside, he wishes it isn't you. He has no idea what they can be doing with you.

"Where?" 

"Just outside Rome. I don't know the exact location, but I will try to get it. Ezio, it could be-"

"Let me know what you can find," Ezio murmurs before leaving.

He visits his mom and Claudia. His mom is sad and apprehensive. Claudia, on the other hand, tries not to mention your name.

"How are you doing?" Claudia wonders, her tone full of pain. His sister must be feeling terrible: you were Claudia's best friend.

"I want the body. I want to be able to bury it."

Claudia gulps, looking straight. They had dealt with death before, and deep inside, Claudia and Ezio expected it to become easier with time. Without controlling herself, she hugs her older brother, sobbing.

"Oh, Ezio, I am so so sorry."

"Me too," Ezio whispers back, his heart breaking into a million pieces.

-x-

You don't know why you are still alive. After another beat-up session, the guards seem to have given up on you. Even Cesare doesn't appear anymore.

Your clothes are dirty and ripped, and you can barely keep your eyes open. Your fingers are broken. They stopped giving you water. You know something is bleeding inside you; it is just a matter of time now.

You wish you could have seen Claudia. Maria. Leonardo. All your other Assassins. You wish you could thank them for all the lessons you got. You are happy they didn't come to save you.

You wish you could have seen Ezio one last time. Tell him it wasn't his fault.

-x-

When Machiavelli reveals the location, Ezio doesn't hesitate to go—joined by the same group you saved. The Brotherhood wants to give you proper rest. They know you wouldn't like that, risking the Brotherhood for a single Assassin, but it is you.

You are imprisoned in some fort just outside Rome, Machiavelli explained. For some reason, he didn't know the status of your life, but from what his informants saw, they were keeping you in a cell.

"Dead?" Ezio asks. There is no hope in his voice.

"They don't know. Ezio, do you think that is a good idea?"

Ezio doesn't know. He gets on his horse and is followed by the others. A small part inside of him is burning, inside his heart. It grows like a small flame that gets bigger on a cold and dark day.

It is hope.

-x-

You wake up with the sound of a distant explosion. Screams came followed, and the smell of fire. You try to lift your head, your survival instincts kicking in, but your body hurts too much. You wonder if you have arrived in Hell. You concentrate on the front door, your vision too foggy to see anything. You can hear the noises of a fight though you can't quite place what is happening yet.

You think you hear death calling your name.

-x-

Ezio is frozen in front of your cell. For a few seconds, he can't move or breathe. 

It is you. 

It is really you. 

It barely looks like you, though. In a fetal position, legs and arms are tied with heavy chains. Ezio holds the bars with an intensity that might break them. What the fuck have they done to you? He needs to get you out there. Now.

He calls your name.

You don't seem to listen. Ezio tries again, this time more urgent. 

You open your eyes, confused. You thought you heard Ezio calling. Trying to crawl across the floor, you focus your eyes on death.

It is Ezio. Hood down. You can barely see his face, but you know he looks as beautiful as ever.

"E...zi...o," You whisper. 

Ezio gets the keys from the guard impaled against the wall. He ignores his shaking hands and opens the door, rushing toward you. When he touches your face, your skin is so cold. He calls your name again, waking you up.

"Io sono qui, amore mio, sono qui."

You barely seem to register what he says. Ezio glances at your body. It doesn't look good, but he is determined to get you off there. He lifts your body, and you groan in pain.

"I am going to take you out of here," It is a promise.

Ezio takes you across the corridors, walking as carefully as he can. He didn't want you to feel more pain. He is thankful he brought a doctor. He has to hope you can make it.

The place around him is destroyed, being burned to the ground. Ezio had told the other Assassins to look for other innocents inside the prison.

"I always have been hopeful. Always hoping you were alive," Ezio confesses, his voice trembling as if you could listen.

You are passing moments of consciousness and unconsciousness. You know you were in Ezio's arms (he knew you hated to be carried like that). You try to say you loved him, that it's too late, but no words come out of you.

Ezio finally gets to the entrance. His fellow Assassins were in the front with a small group of people. All looked malnourished but not as bad as you. The doctor, who was checking them, runs to you as Ezio places you on the floor as carefully as he can.

He can't leave your side. Ezio touches your face. He touches your cheeks. Your forehead. Your ears. Trying to memorize your features.

Your eyes open, and you do your best to keep them open. You know it is the last time. You can notice the doctor assessing you. He seems to say something to Ezio, and he looks defeated. The doctor gives you space. Nobody else dares to get closer.

"You were brave. Very brave this whole time. I am sorry I didn't find you earlier, amore mio."

Ezio holds your hand into his face, his heart heavy. He breathes deeply. He wants to scream at the world, not again! He wants to shout, he wants the doctor to find a way to cure you. He wants you to live. You deserve to live. 

You have to live. 

Breathing deeply one more time, his voice shaking and the tears falling down his eyes, he finally says.

"Go in peace."

You give him a half-smile, ignoring the pain on your broken fingers as you rub your face a little. You were happy. You saw him one last time. Ezio knew you loved him.

Numerous memories flashed behind your eyes. Your family. Your family being killed. Meeting Ezio. Falling in love with him. Claudia teasing you but happy her brother found love again. Maria thanking you for giving him hope. Your experiments with Leonardo. Mario's death. The beginning of the Brotherhood. Your first night with Ezio.

Ezio.

Ezio.

You want to apologize. It is not his fault. You want to say you love him and wish him a happy life. He will find someone. He will be happy. You close your eyes, never to open them again. 

ALTERNATE ENDING (GOOD ENDING):

"We can try to move them, but it might be risky," The doctor warns as he returns, but Ezio ignores that. Leaving the rest of the Assassins to help the rest of the people, he places your body in the carriage with the doctor, focusing on taking you to the closest Inn, making sure to go slow.

He tries not to give himself hope, but you seem to be fighting.

The doctor says you aren't dead yet.

Ezio enters the Inn with you unconscious in his arms, the doctor at his side. The owners, an elderly older couple named Bianco and Pia, rush him to a room, where he places you gently into a bed.

The doctor asks Ezio to rip your clothes. He does so. Pia brings a bowl with water to clean your body. She doesn't say anything, but her eyes don't have much hope.

The doctor gives you a medicine that burns down your throat. He bandages pretty much your whole body and tells Ezio he has done everything he could. The following twenty-four hours are crucial.

Ezio doesn't sleep that night or most of the next day. He has seen a lot of things he would never forget, but your body would hunt him to his death. The elderly couple brings him bread and water, but he doesn't touch his food or water. Ezio is too focused on you to care about himself now.

When the doctor returns, he says your fever has spiked down. Your health is still critical, but your chances to live are higher.

Ezio holds into that.

He continues at your bed day and night. He hasn't taken his bloody clothes yet, and quite frankly, he is starting to smell. The old couple again suggests that he takes a shower. They have some clothes from their late son. When Ezio asks what happened to him, they simply answer that Bórgia men killed him.

Thirty-nine hours after rescuing you, Ezio falls asleep. Bianco finds him in a chair, keeping a vigil over your body.

Later that day, the doctor states you are out of danger. He doesn't know when you will wake up and if you ever will. For Ezio, that is enough. He knows you are a fighter, and you won't give up.

It is too dangerous to move you still. Ezio can't leave you. He starts helping around the Inn. He gets some thieves to run away, helps the couple get their money from a man who owes them and maintains the Inn as best as possible.

Ezio talks to you. He shares how life is going. Holds your hand. He shares that he misses you. That he loves you. 

He can see your face slowly healing, but no sign of you waking up. He has sent some pigeons informing Claudia, his mom, and the rest of the Brotherhood of your well-being. 

On the morning of the seventh day of your rescue, Ezio is helping Bianco in the garden when he hears Pia's scream. 

"Ezio, Ezio!"

Running to the house, Ezio enters the room. Pia is near the bed, giving you water and gently holding your head. You are awake.

Ezio stops by the other side of the bed, unable to speak. Pia smiles at him, leaving them. You try to talk, but no voice comes out. 

"I thought, I thought I lost you," Ezio confesses, slowly kneeling at your side. "I thought I was going insane. I thought I was getting punished again."

He kisses your bandaged hand so gently that you don't even wince in pain. You want to ask him many questions about how he found you and how you are still alive. Ezio seems to understand your concerns, rubbing your cheek.

"I will explain with time. Just rest now. Rest, amore mio. I will be here when you wake up."

You look at Ezio, really looks at him. Wondering if he can feel the love in your eyes. Ezio seems to understand because he smiles for the first time since he had you back.

"Ti amo anch'io."

MASTERLIST | EZIO'S MASTERLIST

[melis-writes]

Ensnared [Carlito Brigante x Reader, 18+ Smut] Oneshot.

Read on AO3. | Fanfic Masterlist | Fic and Prompt Requests Info.

18+, explicit smut oneshot.

“And whose cock is in my mouth right now? Don’t tell me you’re jealous." / “. I wouldn’t show you my face if I wasn’t a changed man ready, to tell the truth.”

Five years has passed since your fiancé Carlito was imprisoned, leaving your engagement hanging onto fate and your heartache. Fighting between what you love and know, feeling lied to and betrayed from Carlito as your heart yearns for him, you refuse to take off the very engagement ring he gave you as a sign of commitment. In bitter attempts to move on, its unbeknownst to you that Carlito's been released with only one priority in mind–finding you and convincing his fiancée that Carlito's a changed man and wants nothing but the future he promised to you before. While Gail seeking out Carlito's company too, you find yourself in a shocking position to suddenly see your fiancé once again and deny everything until Carlito ensnares you all over again with the truth and closure your heart begged for.

[WARNINGS]: Mentions of prison/jail time / Mentions of drug dealing / Alcohol consumption / Heavy smut / Rough sex / Oral sex / Blowjob / Touching & foreplay / Dirty talking / Fingering / Orgasm control / Spit kink.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: The Carlito Brigante x Reader smut fic we've all been waiting for is finally here!! 😩🙏🏻 Better late than never. 😅 My very first Carlito fic would be incomplete without angst + comfort, intimate fluff and much needed rough, sloppy sex. 🥵🥵 Carlito's more than eager to finally be with you after five years apart and won't relent to show you badly he wants you either. Our reader's name in this fic is Evelyn Whittaker and you'll see how you/she has felt for Carlito over the years and that it'll take a lot more than promises to mend a broken heart, but truth and closure. ❤

[ April 1993 ]

‘Friday…’ You let out a soft sigh, resting your chin over the palm of your hand as you sit at your favorite window side spot at your local café, wondering to yourself how many more times you can aimlessly stir your steaming cappuccino before letting your mind wander off even farther.

Ordering the same coffee, drinking from the same style cups, and sitting at the same table for the past six years at your café makes you realize you’re more of a creature of habit than you admit.

A lot of your own favorite things and places were also favorites of Carlito’s—just another reason why you enjoy them as much as he did.

The very café you sit at alone as the rest of the afternoon dwindles by is the very same one you and Carlito had your first date in back in 1986—seven years ago now.

Back then you’d laugh at the idea of coming here alone without Carlito’s presence, especially after the two of you memorized each other’s favorite orders; Carlito always knew you loved a classic cappuccino, and you knew his order would always be a black Americano.

In the same café at the same seat where you and Carlito laughed, joked, and had two hour-long conversations with richly delicious coffee and various sweet treats passing your lips, you were now alone, single, and had been for the past five years since Carlito was imprisoned.

Five years ago you were giddy, planning out your dream wedding day with the man you claim to be the love of your life to now sitting glumly by the window wondering when your heart will stop searching for Carlito in places you know he’ll never be in.

The initial fresh sting and pain of heartache aren’t there anymore and life has found other ways to preoccupy and distract you, but your mind’s never failed to wander and hurt you just by thinking of everything you and Carlito had from beginning to end if you didn’t make an active effort to stop thinking about it all the time.

The first two years were without a doubt absolutely unbearable; you’d barely be able to use your napkin for anything else except let it completely soak through with your tears, crying in public and always leaving your cappuccino half finished.

The pain’s never left you entirely, but there’s a familiar numbness that’s gotten you used to everything—you didn’t have a choice about that. You’d feel every ache in your heart whether you wanted to or not.

You gaze down at the engagement ring Carlito gave you upon your ring finger glumly; a two-karat pear-shaped diamond, glistening at every angle.

With your refusal within the last five years to take off the ring and last night spent crying over it until your eyes felt numb and you physically couldn’t anymore, the engagement ring now serves as a reminder for as long as you keep it on your finger, you won’t give up on Carlito entirely.

At the same time the ache in your heart tells you that such a beautiful ring over your finger is a result of Carlito’s criminality; how else would Carlito or any other person afford a two-karat diamond just like that?

‘Drug money.’ Carlito, his heroin heists, and the massive drug ring he ran in East Harlem got you this engagement ring and secured your future with Carlito, but also was a reminder as to why Carlito was in jail.

‘Five years. Twenty-five more to go.’ You feel your bottom lip trembling just thinking about the thirty-year sentence Carlito’s going to be serving, and it doesn’t look like anything’s gotten in the way to change it now.

Nothing can help Carlito or change his sentence now—at least not to you with any reasonable explanation and justification you can come up with on the spot.

You know there’s simply too much evidence that proves Carlito did everything and everything. The thirty-year sentence in a way is very much deserved when it comes to the list of Carlito’s proven charges since everyone in the courtroom including Dave—Carlito’s lawyer and close friend you can hardly stand—knew Carlito was fucked because there was little to no defense to be said against such incriminating, hard evidence.

You unfortunately remember it all so perfectly from the moment you took your seat in court until the very end when you barely had the energy left inside of you to step out.

You had never sobbed so hard in your life, silencing your tears and cries by keeping a napkin constantly pressed up to your face.

You remembered staring in horror at the judge as Carlito’s final sentence was read out and that your anxiety only doubled to cause deep nausea inside of you to watch your fiancé rise to his feet only to be handcuffed.

You remembered how right then and there Carlito had turned his head to look at you and only you; giving you a smile with a calm, content look on his face as if nothing was happening—the complete opposite from your bloodshot, teary eyes and shaky hands.

“Don’t worry, baby. Everything’s gonna be alright. Don’t you worry about me.” Were Carlito’s last words to you before the police began to escort him away and the tears pooling in your eyes blurred your vision once more.

30 years without Carlito—you didn’t have a clue as to how you’d go on, knowing you’d be almost sixty years old by the time Carlito’s set to be released.

Still, the question is the same now and will be the same every day for as long as you think of Carlito and keep the engagement ring on your finger; not to mention his belongings that are still in your apartment.

You don’t think you’ll ever recover from the fact your fiancée was a drug lord for years in East Harlem, making millions with the heroin trade and lying about all of it to you throughout the years.

The lie Carlito told you about how he made his money and what he did for a living was that Carlito bought and sold vintage, luxury cars and was also a co-owner of a diamond business on the side; all very believable knowing his stellar reputation and ability to prove it all to you when you came down to see him.

While it may have been true Carlito bought and sold expensive cars and made quite the profit off of selling diamonds, he didn’t mention the storage rooms filled with heroin; processed, refined, and smuggled out there by Carlito and his few, trusted men.

Nonetheless Carlito’s “living” was a good lie that you believed in, but a lie you also believed would sustain your marriage and lifestyle as well as the future lives of your children with Carlito too.

It was because of all of Carlito’s lies that you were ultimately confused when Carlito was arrested and went to court, simply out of being completely clueless about everything.

Even Dave didn’t tell you anything since he believed it was for Carlito and Carlito alone to tell you, but Carlito would never have the time or opportunity to—especially after he got arrested.

It didn’t take you long to realize in the courtroom what had just happened; the lies, the drugs, and Carlito’s criminality—just to name a few.

None of that stood a chance against your feelings and love for Carlito, but you only lost your fiancé that day—not your common sense.

Carlito was influential, powerful, and feared in the streets of East Harlem and kept up the same lies to you since you two met in 1985, but when he was gone, he was gone, and you had to figure out quickly for yourself as to what you would do next.

Would you go see Carlito in prison for the next thirty years as regularly as you could? Would you cut off any contact with Carlito entirely and let Dave know you’re done?

You didn’t decide on either of those—not exactly. After all, nobody ever got in the middle of your relationship with Carlito nor did they even try.

Dave had no intention of helping you; he was considered infamous in the world of law after Carlito’s case and earned the title “mobster lawyer” after the media caught a whiff of just who Dave constantly kept representing in court.

Dave could be whatever the hell he wanted to be—you don’t care about him, but the last thing you’d ever want to think Carlito as is a mobster.

You had to sit there and watch your fiancé get handcuffed and taken away from you, starting a thirty-year prison sentence.

Carlito saw the pain, heartache, and betrayal in your eyes as he was pulled away from you after his trial ended because Carlito knew alone that he was the one who fucked up your relationship, held everything back, and lied to you.

Carlito knew too that the trial would have the most lasting impact on you; he knew he was going to jail, but he didn’t know how you’d react taking in all of this at once which is why Carlito expected you to come to visit him in prison so he could explain everything to you, but he also knew deep down you wouldn’t come and you shouldn’t either.

You were the world to Carlito and he knew then more than ever that he didn’t deserve you. Even if you hated Carlito, moved on, or found someone else, Carlito would come to find you thirty years later just to say sorry and explain what happened all that time ago simply because you deserved to hear the truth one way or another. Carlito owed you the truth, but you owed him nothing.

After everything and all those revelations, you weren’t going to let your heartache and emotions get the better of you; should you go see a liar in prison and risk being lied to some more? Visit a heroin dealer? Talk to a mobster?

There’s simply too much to mention, a lot to say, many questions without answers or ways to get them, and you’d never bother trying to get any reassurance from Dave who didn’t tell you a damn thing about Carlito’s case from the very beginning.

Carlito never called you or wrote letters on the other hand not because he didn’t want to, but because he wasn’t allowed; you believed the former.

‘I don’t care.’ What you aren’t going to do is run after Carlito and have him believe whatever he was doing was right.

You love Carlito to death which is more than enough of an explanation as to why you refuse to take off your engagement ring. You’re not living in denial, but you’re still madly in love with Carlito.

Your heart belongs to Carlito but vice versa holds true too. Thirty years won’t change that for either of you even if the other doesn’t know how one feels.

‘As long as I live… I know I’ll always love him.’ Knowing you, maybe you’ll still yearn and love Carlito in thirty years’ time with no care what all that passing time does to either of you.

For now, Carlito’s engagement remains over your finger perhaps as just another bittersweet reminder. Maybe one day you’ll be ready to take it off or replace it with someone else’s ring.

‘No. No, no..’ You know you could never do that—never want that.

‘Stop.’ Brushing the thought off of your mind immediately, you take a small sip of your cappuccino. ‘Stop thinking about this shit—not again.’

Today is Friday after all and you have the rest of the afternoon to yourself to relax after work; tonight is a planned girl’s night with your best friends—ready to drink and dance the night away at a club to welcome the weekend like you all regularly did.

It’s not the end of the world after all, even though some nights had you drowning in your own tears from missing Carlito and pretending he was lying next to you in bed.

Someway, somehow, sometime, you’ll have to move on eventually and that’s exactly what you thought you could have done about six months ago.

With much insistency and influence from your friends, you went on your first blind date and if you said you weren’t interested, it would have been a lie.

The guy you met up with that night for your date was fairly attractive and cute, and because of the jewelry you wore with several rings on your finger at the time, your date neither noticed nor questioned the diamond engagement ring on your finger.

Your date was fascinated and interested in you too much to look anywhere else, trying to make the best of the night you both had together.

As you two made conversation, you learned your date worked for a law firm and the two of you got along well from the beginning of the date to the end.

When the date ended, you refused any kissing or hugs—not that it was offered because you pulled away so quickly and you didn’t want him to drive you home either no matter how much he politely insisted.

Once you got into the back of your taxi, you were already in tears. Nothing wrong had happened during the date nor was it unpleasant in any way but you were adamant you would never do these silly blind dates again or even call this guy back.

Everything felt wrong like you were explicitly cheating on Carlito. No matter how many blind dates you went on and cuter guys you met, they would never be Carlito or anywhere close to the man you truly love.

Once you got home that night, you threw off every ring and piece of jewelry except for your engagement ring.

You still hate how after five years the pain can be so fresh at times, rushing to you all at once even when the topic of love is brought up in a conversation for example.

Your heart was set in stone knowing you would never love anyone else the way you loved Carlito; he left that much of a hole in your heart but ensnared you with his love in return.

You still believe Carlito’s your soulmate, but he’s a soulmate you refuse to see and speak to even if you wanted to.

To reach Carlito in the prison he was being held in was one tricky thing, but getting to and from there was dangerous enough, not to mention being constantly watched and searched by the prison guards if you even got there.

Carlito and Dave both knew how difficult the prison made it for visitors of any kind to come, but Carlito was willing to split mountains in two and make anything work so as long as you wanted to come to see him.

But for Carlito to know for sure you’d like to come to see visit him and speak with him in prison, he would have to ask you through Dave first.

[ 1988, 3 months after Carlito’s sentence ]

Sitting in Dave’s office with tears stinging in your eyes, holding down your bitter anger and keeping your gaze off of that “asshole with a law degree”, you’re here and only here because there’s something about Carlito.

‘Bastard made Carlito look like a mobster in front of everyone, but he forgets who he is. He’s a mobster’s favorite lawyer. He represents crooks, the corrupt, murderers, and every bit of filth in this town if it means he gets his five minutes of fame. Carlito is none of those things. He deserved better, point blank.’

Dave notices how you sit on the very edge of the couch, wanting to be as far away from his presence in Dave’s own office.

He gives you a welcoming smile, but you return a scowl, causing Dave to sigh softly in defeat and adjust his posture in his seat. “Evelyn, listen… I won’t take up too much of your time because I already know you can’t stand me.”

“That’s right.” You say back, staring at the carpet beneath your heels.

“Okay,” Dave sighs again, rubbing his temples. “I understand your frustration and—”

“I don’t want your sympathy.” You glare at the floor, forcing yourself not to look up at him. “What happened, happened, and you called me last night to tell me you had something about Carlito, so just talk already.”

Dave nods at you, holding his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, fair enough. It’s just a simple question really but uh—Carlito wanted me to ask you in person.”

You raise your eyes up from the ground for the first time in ten minutes, staring at Dave and waiting for him to get to the point already.

“Do you want to see Carlito?” Dave asks you.

“What kind of question is that?” You ask back, already feeling your heart begin to ache in your chest.

“I mean like in prison.” Dave clarifies, “do you want to visit him every now and then?”

“He’s the one asking?” You raise your brows.

“Well, yes.” Dave nods, confirming. “He wanted an answer for himself.”

“And I want the answers to a lot of things too, boo hoo.” You say back sarcastically, getting up from your seat before your emotions get the better of you. “Like why you kept Carlito’s case away from me, why Carlito lied to me about almost everything—”

“Evelyn, please.” Dave quickly rises up from his seat in an attempt to reassure you. “All of what I could have told you is and was confidential! You know I can’t tell you these things, or anyone—”

“You’re just as bad as him.” You point an accusing finger at Dave. “No, by the way. No, I don’t want to see Carlito again and you can tell him that. Don’t ever ask me this again!” You throw open the door to Dave’s office, gritting your teeth out of frustration.

“And don’t call me again either, do you understand?! I only tolerated you because Carlito called you his friend, whatever good that did him. Carlito isn’t here anymore and yes, I do blame you for much of that. I want nothing to do with you, Dave. Nothing! I don’t care if you’re New York’s next hotshot lawyer, you’re nothing to me just as you did nothing worthwhile for Carlito!” Just like that, you make your exit by slamming Dave’s office door shut behind you.

Dave grimaces, staring down at his office desk glumly before his eyes wander down to the hidden telephone on call under his desk that you aren’t aware of.

As Dave can no longer hear your footsteps or anybody’s presence around his office for that matter, he leans down to pick up the telephone and put it back on the corner of his desk. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes, I did,” Carlito answers on the other end. “She’s upset, Dave. It’s normal. I expected this much.”

“Yeah, me too. Dave murmurs. “She’s…something.”

“Everything’s already gone to hell.” Carlito sighs deeply. “I don’t want Evelyn to hate me, but it might be too late for that.”

“So, what do you want me to do?” Dave slouches back down in his office seat.

“Get someone to her,” Carlito suggests. “You know what I’m talking about. I want protection for Evelyn, however, you can get it and I want that someone doing so being the most reliable, subtle guy you’ve got. Keep an eye on her, see who she’s with and where she is. I just want her to be safe, happy, and healthy but don’t get me wrong when I say this—I don’t want my lady stalked, do you understand me?”

“Yeah man, I get it. That’s a good idea actually.” Dave nods to himself.

“I care for her.” Carlito continues, “and I don’t give a damn how many years the judge said I gotta rot in here for, I just want to know if my baby’s gonna be alright. Long as I know that it’s gonna keep me sane in here.”

~

Since that day and not at all to your knowledge, Carlito had one of his men follow and track your every move.

Just as Carlito wished, it wasn’t that you were “stalked” but that one of Carlito’s bodyguards who had worked with Carlito and known him for years in the ‘business’ just kept a watchful eye on you and nothing else.

You were followed from afar at an appropriate distance and Carlito’s bodyguard changed cars very often so as not to give away his identity or have you notice him in the slightest.

As a result, it was impossible for you to tell in any way that someone was following and watching you, and at the same time, you didn’t feel that way either.

Carlito’s bodyguard had one job and only job only: keep an eye on you, see who you were with, where you were and if you were safe. Anything notable was to be mentioned like for example if you fell ill and went to see a doctor so Carlito would be notified of everything.

This way, Carlito felt that he could still be with you knowing what was going on in your life and when you’d come home for the night, the bodyguard would park with another associate outside—taking turns during the night keeping watch.

More than anything, you were just protected ever since, because it had nothing to do with a lack of trust for you or suspicion but that Carlito cared for you deeply, and knowing he couldn’t see you physically or even hear your voice over the phone was agonizing enough and in prison, Carlito had very few reasons to be happy.

As long as you—Carlito’s girl—whom Carlito still considered his fiancée—was happy and safe, then all could and would be considered alright in Carlito’s world.

Today, however, everything’s different because Carlito’s a free man—something you personally don’t know, but Carlito will make sure you come to find out before anything else.

Carlito’s not a free man today because he had a strong, credible alibi or that he appealed his sentence only to provide full proof and evidence clearing his name, but Dave exploited Carlito’s sentence on a legal technicality.

If it was one thing Dave did well in his cases, it was exploiting the fuck out of them to make sure his clients no matter how corrupt, guilty, or murderous they were, got out one way or another.

Carlito’s a free man and nothing else matters, including Dave’s unorthodox and immortal ways.

While you spent your morning routine earlier today getting ready for work, Carlito was back in court with a very displeased judge sitting in front of him not buying the “I changed” bullshit speech Carlito was telling him.

Still, today’s Carlito’s day, and nobody else stands a chance; all have no choice but to finally hear Carlito out.

Carlito didn’t care who believed what he said or what others thought of him now. Carlito knows he’s a changed man and he had to be, especially if he wants to get his old life back without crime and be a better man for you above all things.

Having a lot of truthful explaining to do to you is a priority to Carlito and it’s not something to be taken lightly and done over a phone call or a letter.

Carlito knows he needs to see you in person as soon as possible and without Dave being there. Carlito wants to make it all happen tonight on his first day out—all business and all truth finally settled for good.

After five years of dreaming about your face and touching you in his dreams, Carlito’s not going to wait a day longer when he knows now it’s in his control to finally see you.

Still, released out of prison or not today, that doesn’t mean Dave intends on breaking his word with you. Dave still refuses to talk to you about Carlito or tell you anything about him just as you asked, but it’s Carlito’s ex-girlfriend before you—Gail—whose been constantly calling and visiting Dave’s office wanting updates and just about anything she could get out of Dave about Carlito recently.

You knew who Gail was but not very well—bumping into her on the street after her dance lessons when Carlito was by your side a few years ago.

Gail knew then that you were Carlito’s girlfriend and she didn’t do anything to interfere or protest that fact, nor did she actively seek out Carlito’s comfort.

The only thing Dave let slip out of his mouth to Gail was that you and Carlito technically weren’t together anymore since Carlito was in jail, and Gail was just the perfect naïve type to believe Carlito would not only be out sooner than the thirty-year sentence he was served but that she could have a chance to rekindle her relationship with Carlito too.

Carlito would have never thought Gail would assume or want such things, but he did know one thing: Carlito’s answer was and always is going to be “no” unless it had something to do with you.

If it’s one thing Carlito has an abundance of still and without any doubts is money. Everything Carlito owned before he went to jail was all very legal in property and investments, and Dave had assured Carlito it would all be there.

Nobody could tell Carlito otherwise when it comes to his bars and clubs that he knows he’ll be coming to see one by one over the next few weeks to pick up his revenue and keep an eye on things as Carlito’s life returns to a steady normal.

The only thing that changed tonight was that on his last watch, Carlito’s bodyguard let him know you and your girlfriends were planning on going to a specific club Carlito owns tonight at 10 PM.

It’s the very nightclub Carlito co-owns with that gambling addict Saso, and if anything you’re completely unaware Carlito owns the club let alone has anything to do with it; just another thing Carlito needs to explain to you once he finally gets to see and talk to you.

Carlito’s mind is set: he’s going to see you tonight and will be at the club before you.

“Ten PM,” Carlito confirms, tapping his finger against his watch. “Evelyn will be there without a doubt.”

“Finally going to go see her, eh?” Dave pours two half cups of whiskey on the other side of his office. “And not a minute too soon.”

“She’s the only person I’ve wanted to see for the past five years.” Carlito lets out a drawn-out sigh, rising from his seat. “I’m not doing that shit on the streets no more and you know, I know it,” Carlito points at his chest. “And for Evelyn, I gotta start tonight. She won’t believe a word I say now, and I can’t blame her.”

“You’ll figure it out, man.” Dave hands Carlito a glass of whiskey, holding his. “You always do, but you’ve got other things to worry about too.”

“Yeah?” Carlito takes the glass of whiskey from Dave, raising curious brows before drinking it.

“Gail.” Dave points out, taking a sip of his whiskey.

“What about her?” Carlito licks off a drop of whiskey from his lips.

“That pretty little thing,” Dave chuckles, knowing he’s attracted to Carlito’s ex-girlfriend a little too much.

“What about her?” Carlito asks again, clearly unphased by Dave’s behavior.

“She knows your back in town,” Dave points out, “and she’ll definitely want to see you. I’m only surprised Gail hasn’t called me a hundred more times to ask where you’ll be. What do you want me to tell her? You know she’ll come knocking any day now.”

“Gail…” Carlito murmurs, a little irritated by her constant insistence to see and hear from him. “I’ll see her again sometime but differently. On my terms, and as friends. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but…” Carlito glances inside his whiskey glass, taking another sip. “I don’t wanna lead her on because there is no Gail and me, Dave.”

“Mhmm.” Dave nods, pressing his lips together. “Guess whatever was going on, went on in the past, huh?”

“Just that,” Carlito confirms, finishing his drink and setting the empty glass down. “Whatever she wants to call it now, I’m really not interested. She’s just an old friend to me now so—” Carlito walks towards Dave’s office door, gesturing to his phone. “Maybe keep her wondering where I am for now. I’m busy tonight.”

“Yeah man, don’t worry.” Dave begins to head back to his office desk. “Enjoy yourself tonight. You’re a free man after all, and you deserve it.”

“I appreciate it.” Carlito gives Dave a small wave before exiting his office.

Carlito Brigante didn’t say the words “I changed” in front of his appeal trial to appease the jury or the judge, but because he believes it himself to his very core.

Five years locked up inside has changed Carlito and for the better, reminding him that he’s going to do nothing dishonest, forget the streets, and clear his name no matter what reputation he holds now and you’ll be the first to hear about it all—truthfully.

~

Getting ready for tonight before you meet up with your girls and carpool to the club wanting to do nothing but drink and dance for the rest of the evening, you stand in front of your full-body mirror across from the foot of your bed and admire your sultry outfit for tonight.

Dressed in a mini, sequin, strapless black dress, you smoothen out the sides of your outfit and turn around before the mirror, admiring the way the sequin pieces sparkle as light reflects over it.

It’s the perfect, sexy outfit to wear tonight hugging you in all the right places but providing the perfect amount of comfort to sit and dance in a crowd all night; sleek, sexy, and effortless.

You reach down, adjusting your new, black platform heels over your feet and beginning to appreciate how wearing heels over the years to practically any occasion you could get away with has taught you how to comfortably dance in six or even seven-inch heels if you wanted to.

Moving back to your vanity table, you add another layer of mascara over your lashes but ultimately keep your makeup light for tonight, knowing you’ll practically sweat it off dancing anyways.

Checking the time on your night table and knowing the cab will pull up in front of your apartment any minute now, you grab your matching black sequin purse and sling it over your shoulder—ready to start your Friday night.

Purposefully arriving before you, Carlito steps out of his cab, and without bothering to take a look around him or waste another moment, Carlito walks directly inside his club.

Saso may have run this place (surprisingly not to the ground) when Carlito couldn’t for the past five years but nothing changes, and certainly not the ownership as Carlito’s come to collect and see just how honest his favorite gambling addict’s really been during his absence.

Dressed in a three-piece black suit with a muted shade of purple for a dress shirt and without a tie, the rest of Carlito’s semi-formal look for tonight is topped off with his signature all-gold jewelry; an 18k gold chain link bracelet, a matching wristwatch, and a pinky ring set in a square with a black stone.

If you don’t see Carlito coming, you can certainly pick up on the scent of his expensive cologne bound to raise the attention of some curious eyes passing by.

The packed club blaring with loud dance music as servers desperately try not to get their tray of expensive drinks knocked over and make it to tables in one piece to serve their patrons aside is one of the first things Carlito sees upon entering.

With everything looking relatively normal and routine, Carlito knows the club will carry on this way until at least 4 AM.

“Hey, boss!” Pachanga—one of Carlito’s most trusted bodyguards—calls out. “Ah, man, there you are.” Pachanga grins, standing before Carlito and patting his shoulder. “Came early just to see you bossman when I heard you were comin’ out.”

Things like rekindling or reminiscing over the past are far beyond Carlito who knew he’d come back to have everything under his control and ownership get right back to him—men and bodyguards included.

“Where’s Saso?” Carlito asks, shutting down any further opportunity for small talk.

“Over there, boss.” Pachanga points upstairs to the second level of the club, just towards the office.

Saso adjusts his tie in front of one of the mirrors on the wall, getting some much-needed space from the sweaty crowds around him.

“What do you think?” Carlito’s eyes dart from the sight of Saso back to Pachanga. “Think the old fuck’s gambled away all my money?”

“Not if he values his life, boss.” Pachanga chuckles, beginning to crack his knuckles. “But lemme know because I ain’t come empty-handed. Maybe we can cut it out of him.”

“We’ll see,” Carlito murmurs, beginning to head up the stairs to get to Saso.

Just as Carlito makes it upstairs and is a mere few steps behind Saso, Saso can make out his old boss’ reflection in the mirror he’s looking in which causes him to gasp and stumble back before turning around to face Carlito.

“So you already know what this is about.” Carlito raises both of his brows at the terrified-looking Saso before him. “No welcome back party for me or anything? Where’s my money, Saso?”

“I told you I wouldn’t spend it, boss.” Saso shakes his head frantically, “a-and I didn’t! I didn’t!” Saso points to the office door behind Carlito. “I kept it in the safe after all this time, y-you know! I only took a little bit to keep things smooth and running, b-but nothing else, I promise!”

“Why so scared then, old man?” Pachanga smirks, purposefully dragging the handle of his switchblade against the staircase railing as he walks up.

Saso’s terrified expression is now equally shared towards Carlito and Pachanga. “W-well, last time you come in here, you threaten to cut my liver out in front of e-everybody! Here!” Saso pulls out the office keys from the pocket of his trousers, handing them to Carlito shakily.

“That was five years ago,” Carlito points out, quick to take the keys away from Saso.

“N-no way you’ll change your mind now that you’re back, then.” Saso swallows hard.

“It’s better off this way.” Carlito rolls his eyes before pointing a finger at Saso. “Now, I’m gonna go into my office and take a look at my money. If anything’s missing or I see you skimmed off too much, I’m gonna cut the rest of your organs out with your liver, do you understand me?”

“Y-yes,” Saso stutters.

“Good.” Carlito narrows his eyes, gesturing to Pachanga. “Watch him. I don’t want the old fuck out of my sight if things go wrong. He might bolt.”

“Got it, boss.” Pachanga grins back at Saso, taking a few steps up to get closer. “Let’s spend some quality time together, huh?”

Carlito turns on his heel, approaching the office door and unlocking it. Once he steps inside and flicks on the lights, he sees nothing’s changed; not the furniture or even its arrangement—everything’s left the exact same way it was.

Carlito locks the office door behind him and moves to close the blinds of the office windows first.

Because of how well-kept and clean the office appears, Carlito already assumes Saso hasn’t stepped foot in here for five years either.

Keeping quiet and focused, Carlito uses the same combination to the safe before popping it open. Inside, Carlito notices massive stacks of cash just as he expected, and simply from eyeballing it, Carlito estimates there’s possibly about half a million dollars in here.

Only impressed by the amount, Carlito reaches in and takes out two stacks of cash—running his fingers through the money and counting it.

‘All hundreds. Solid, banded up.’ Carlito notes before putting the money back inside the safe and shutting it tight.

Carlito begins to change the combination on the safe; this is his money, always will be, and always has been.

Now that Carlito’s around to oversee the club’s operations and earnings, the cash will come to his hands before it ever reaches a safe.

The money inside the case is all for you and Carlito; the future he wants to settle on and have with you after all.

“Hey, boss!” Pachanga knocks on the office door, calling out.

“Yeah, what is it?” Carlito says back, still busy with changing the combination.

“I’m keeping our friend Saso here company but I just wanted to let ya know, your lady friend is here with some girls!”

Carlito pauses, staring at the numbers on the combination lock. Of course, he knows you’re coming tonight but now that you’re actually here, it’s a different story altogether.

“Where is she?” Carlito asks, finishing up with the combination.

“Just downstairs on the dancefloor, boss! Uhhh, she has a corner seat and waved to me when she got here.”

‘Evelyn waved at you…?’ Carlito furrows his brows, brushing off his hands. “I’ll deal with it.”

“And is Saso good to go, boss? Or is liver on the menu tonight?” Pachanga snickers.

“Yeah, let the old man go but not before reminding him whose office and money this is now. I don’t wanna see his face again tonight.” Carlito orders, moving towards the windows of the office.

“Will do, boss. Will do!” Pachanga moves away from the office door and back towards Saso.

‘Who…?’ Carlito peeks through the closed blinds, looking towards the center of the dancefloor, then to the corner seat Pachanga directed to.

Instead of seeing you sitting there much to Carlito’s anticipation, he instead sees Gail sitting next to Stephanie and another girl that Carlito doesn’t recognize; friends of Gail’s nonetheless.

A deep sense of disappointment hits Carlito at seeing Gail sitting there instead of you, but he can’t exactly ignore Gail here either.

You’re still on your way to the club with your friends but Carlito knows you’re not here yet and that’s enough for him.

Carlito sighs deeply, adjusting his tie before unlocking his office door and stepping out. He gives Pachanga an acknowledging nod before Carlito walks down the stairs and to where Gail sits.

Carlito knows the club of all places isn’t the best place to answer Gail’s incessant questions he knows will come, but Carlito may just be able to have Gail finally take a hint about how he feels about her.

Within a few minutes, your cab finally pulls up to the front of the club where you arrive with your girlfriends.

All of you can already see how packed the club is from the outside alone, leaving no room to look around and get distracted by the scenery.

Staying close to all of your friends, you three make your way straight to the bar to start with some drinks and warm up before hitting the dancefloor for the rest of the night.

Neither you nor Carlito sees one another in the club, but the two of you aren’t far from each other either.

“Hi ladies, what can I get for you all tonight?” The bartender asks as you all take a seat on the stools next to each other.

“One round of tequila for me, please!”

“Bloody Mary, please. God, I’ve always wanted to try one of those!”

“And for you, miss?” The bartender turns to you with a smile.

You lean your elbows onto the bar table, smiling back politely. “I’ll take a cosmopolitan.”

Over on the other side of the club, as the bartender prepares you and your friends’ drinks, Carlito stands before Gail’s table who is more than ecstatic to look up and see him.

“Charlie!” Gail exclaims happily, practically jumping up from her seat to embrace Carlito.

“Gail, hey.” Carlito smiles, putting his hands over her shoulders gently.

Gail giggles, cupping Carlito’s cheeks. “I knew you’d be here!”

“Did Dave tell you?” Carlito chuckles.

“Yes,” Gail nods back excitedly, “but only because I asked and asked and asked until he couldn’t keep quiet anymore ‘cause are you kidding me? You’re finally out and I get to see you, Charlie! How could I not come?”

“My first day already and it seems like everyone wants to see me.” Carlito places both of his hands on top of Gail’s, taking her hands off of his cheeks but squeezing them gently.

“I’m here for you and you only.” Gail tugs on Carlito’s arm to lead him to her table. “Food and drinks on the table, come! Come join me! I’ve got my friends here too but oh, they’d love to meet you. You’re all I’ve been talking about! Oh, you’ve no idea how much I’ve missed you!”

“I’ve missed you too honey, but now’s not a good time, you know?” Carlito doesn’t move from his spot.

“Why not?” Gail looks back at Carlito over her shoulder. “You didn’t go see your girlfriend first, so I just thought…” Gail looks towards the bar, watching you sip your cocktail next to your friends. “I thought Evelyn saw me at least, but she didn’t even come to say hi.”

Carlito’s eyes widen as he spots you by the bar, but Gail attempts to grab his attention again.

“Well, come on.” Gail beams, hugging Carlito’s arm. “At least stay with us for a while. Evelyn’s not going anywhere, is she?”

It’s right then and there that you turn your head to the side while relaxing with your cocktail that you spot Carlito and Gail across the bar, staring back at you.

‘Carlito!?’ You almost drop your cocktail from the shock of seeing Carlito there alone, and your heart instantly races in your chest in response. ‘No… But he’s in jail, right? Or was he ever?’

Carlito most certainly doesn’t look like a man who's gotten out of prison at all.

Shocked and frozen in spot, your environment blurs around you and you can no longer feel the heat of the crowd packed around you or even hear the music blaring around you.

The tips of your ears and the nape of your neck burn and prickle from the shock, but from a betrayed-like feeling and confusion—all trying to make sense as to how Carlito is here.

Carlito makes eye contact with you for only a split second before you put down your cocktail and immediately disappear into the crowd.

“Evelyn!? Girl, where are you going?” You can hear your friends calling out from behind you, but you ignore them, ducking and moving through the crowd until you get to the women’s washroom.

You duck right before you get near the women’s washroom, making it look like you’ve gone in to hide.

In reality, you’re holding your tears back and rushing to the very end of the club right up until you feel someone grab you by both of your hips, stopping you.

You squeal, feeling the firm pair of hands turning you around. You spin to see Carlito holding onto you, staring at you with wide eyes filled with anticipation. “Evelyn!”

“What are you—” In shock, you attempt to pull away from Carlito.

“Where are you going? I’ve been looking for you all night—” Carlito only tightens his grip on you.

“All night?” You breathe, instantly feeling a rush of anger come over you as tears sting your eyes. “Welcome back, Carlito. Was I going to be the first to find out you’re out of jail?! Or were you not going to bother to come to me until I saw you with Gail there—huh?!”

“Is that all that you saw?” Carlito sighs, “baby, don’t be like this—”

“Don’t call me baby!” You cry out, swatting Carlito’s hands off of you. “You’re a liar! I can’t even believe you’re here right now! Oh my God. When did you get out and why didn’t you tell me—”

“I got out TODAY!” Carlito emphasizes, trying to convince and reassure you.

“You got out today and you’re at a club?” You scoff, unconvinced. “You expect me to believe that bullshit?”

“Yes, because I also expect you to believe that this is my club. I own it.” Carlito stares at you, waiting for a response.

“What?” You mumble, furrowing your brows in confusion.

“This?” Carlito extends out his arms, gesturing around the packed nightclub. “This is all mine. I own this club, legally. I’m too old to come up here dancing and drinking and you know that. Now, will you please come with me?”

“Where?” You feel your throat tightening and a sense of guilt beginning to hit you.

“To my office, upstairs.” Carlito points up. “Come on, come with me, please. I have so much to tell you.”

On the verge of tears, your hands begin to tremble. “Carlito…” You still can’t register to yourself that your fiancée is here right here and now, having no idea what’s going on yet at the same time feeling like you’re about to have a nervous breakdown.

Carlito gently wraps an arm around your waist as you nod at him glumly, looking away. He pulls you through the crowds and leads you upstairs without having a single person bump into you.

Gail looks up from where she sits wither friends, watching Carlito’s protective and loving hand remain over your hips as he guides you to his office—leaving her all alone tonight.

Gail frowns but pretends it doesn’t bother her, looking away. She’ll get through the evening by continuing to eat and drink as she said to Carlito she would.

As you come upstairs, you see Pachanga—one of Carlito’s old bodyguards or more so known to you as just a “good friend” or “Carlito’s assistant”—smiling at you like he’s been waiting to see you all night too.

You really begin to believe now that you’re not having some sort of fever dream but that everything’s about to make sense—or at least you desperately hope so—on Carlito’s behalf tonight.

Carlito opens his office door and you practically stumble inside, still staring at him in disbelief as he locks the door behind you—leaving the two of you alone from the heat of the club face to face for the first time in five years.

Carlito turns around, letting out a soft sigh. In your eyes, he sees hate, betrayal, and a million questions—nothing relieved or reassured whatsoever but it’s what Carlito’s been expecting from you for the past five years, righteously. Carlito’s presence means nothing now without answers.

“Baby, listen.” Carlito puts his hands up, taking a step towards you.

You immediately step back, raising both of your brows at him. “Who are you referring to—me or Gail? The first person you really went to see as soon as you got out of prison, Carlito like I’m still supposed to believe all of this.”

“You think I’d lie to you?” Carlito frowns. “What do I have to do to—” But Carlito catches himself on how ridiculous that question would sound now considering he did lie to you almost religiously for years on end.

“Because you’re a liar!” You scowl, crossing your arms. “Because you lied to me for years and will do so again so I don’t believe a goddamn word that comes out of your mouth nor will I again.”

“Then why did you come up here with me?” Carlito raises a brow, asking you.

You stare back at Carlito, feeling tears pooling up in the corners of your eyes before you shake your head. “Goddamn you, Carlito.”

“What are you really upset about, Evelyn?” Carlito begins to approach you again slowly and this time you don’t back away—tears streaming down your cheeks. “Because if you ask me, the only fucking thing I care about is you, not whoever else decides to approach me at the club because they pestered my lawyer to find out where I was. I know you didn’t want to hear anything about me, Evelyn, but how could I get to you in another way?”

“If you’re out…” You swallow hard, “then why wouldn’t call me or come to my apartment today?”

“Because you’re here.” Carlito points to the ground.

“How did you know that?” You squint your eyes at him, growing suspicious.

“That’s not important.” Carlito shakes his head. “What’s important is that—”

“No!” You push Carlito’s hand away from you again. “Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me, okay? You owe me too many answers and apologies before you can even think of laying a finger on me.”

“Okay, okay, honey.” Carlito shows you his hands, moving back and respecting your space. “At least hear me out, please. I know that’s the only damn thing you’ve wanted to do for five years now and I was fuckin’ dying to talk to you too.”

“Yeah?” You sniffle, looking at Carlito with teary eyes and only feeling all the worse for cutting off all contact related to him.

“But like I said…” Carlito paces around his office before opening up the mini fridge near the corner of the room. “I knew you were upset and angry with me. You have all the right to be, I won’t tell you how to feel or what to do.” Carlito takes out a bottle of coke and whiskey, setting it down on the counter.

“Right…” You bat away your tears, watching him.

“I know it.” Carlito shuts the mini fridge door, standing back up and taking the two liquor glasses on the counter, beginning to prepare drinks throughout his conversation. “Firstly… There’s nothing between Gail and me. She called and wrote to me in prison but what good did that do her? Or better yet—” Carlito opens the can of coke, adding an equal amount to both cups. “What did it change? Nothing. Her coming to see me tonight is a surprise, considering I told Dave to keep his mouth shut because I knew this would happen but there is nothing between Gail and me, baby.” Carlito looks back over at you, “and there will be nothing. You know how she gets.”

You watch as Carlito adds the whiskey over top of the coke, giving the drinks a quick stir before holding both glasses in his hands and turning to you. “But like I said, this place? I own it. It’s my club. She knows that too, but it’s public knowledge. You can look it up for yourself too, you don’t have to take my word for it.”

“Maybe I wasn’t planning on it,” you murmur, keeping your arms crossed.

“I think you were.” Carlito walks over to you, handing you a drink.

“How would you know?” Curious as to how Carlito will answer this one, you take the drink from him.

“Because of this.” Carlito points to your engagement ring, causing your cheeks to flare up scarlet from blush and embarrassment. “You know I haven’t forgotten about that either. That I don’t consider it any other way.”

“You still think I’m your fiancée?” You’re surprised you can even get that sentence out without breaking down into tears again.

“Yes actually, I do.” Carlito reaffirms. “Now or in thirty years, I still do.”

“You actually expect me to believe that too, don’t you?” Another tear slides down your cheek, and you’ve never been more relieved for wearing waterproof makeup tonight.

“I do.” Carlito extends out his free hand for you to take. “Because I know damn well you wouldn’t have stood in here for a second with me if you didn’t believe me. You wouldn’t wear that ring knowing what it means to both of us and our relationship and because you know I’m here for you with nothing else standing in the way of what we had and what we have. Nobody’s ruining that for me. Not tonight, not ever.” Carlito notices your eyes widening as you listen to him. “Whatever damage I caused between us was my doing, Evelyn. I wouldn’t show you my face if I wasn’t a changed man ready, to tell the truth. I don’t have the right to beg for your forgiveness but I am begging you to hear me out, baby. Please.”

You take Carlito’s hand, squeezing it and nodding in understanding. “O-okay.”

“Come here, baby.” Carlito leads you to the seats in his office, gesturing for you to sit.

You take your seat on an armchair next to his, taking a shaky sip of your drink to ease your nerves.

Carlito gets comfortable in his seat, putting his drink down on the coffee table in front of the two of you.

You squeeze your eyes shut and give out a little sigh before you begin to speak. “You were gone.” You force yourself not to cry any further. “Just like that, you were gone and everything we had was gone too. Drugs, Carlito. Really?” You open your eyes again, staring at Carlito in disappointment. “The streets run red with blood because of these things and yet you lied to me about everything you did.”

“Not everything.” Carlito corrects you. “I told you everything I could but at the end of the day, I was living the fast life before we even met. You know more than Gail would ever know, even in the past. I wanted you to know more—trust me—but you know that kind of lifestyle—”

“The fast life.” You repeat.

“Not for me.” Carlito takes his drink off the coffee table, sipping it as he leans back into his seat.

Just the look in Carlito’s eyes to you now is filled with nothing but desire—yearning and dying to touch you but Carlito can still feel the cold distance between the two of you, upsetting Carlito more than you could know.

“I know.” You nod slowly. “Even though that asshole attorney of yours wouldn’t tell me anything, I figured enough for myself. That’s not you, Carlito.”

“I’m done,” Carlito tells you with more than enough belief in his own words. “I’m done and I don’t care whether the judge bought what I said or not because it’s the truth. I changed. I’m a changed man, I’m not getting caught up in this shit anymore. You can see it for yourself, baby. I’m retired. What I have now is what. This is enough for me.” Carlito swallows down another sip of his drink, looking at you with anticipation next. “And I want to start over again with you, however you want it.”

“You don’t have to start over.” You put your drink down, rising up from your seat and standing in front of Carlito.

For a moment there, Carlito believes you’re about to leave his office just like that, but you don’t.

You remain in front of him waiting, and you notice how Carlito begins to gaze up and down your sequin dress and body. “I missed you so much, Evelyn.” Carlito takes your hand in his, lacing his fingers in between yours. “Just understand this: I would do whatever to have you and me back the way we were before all of this. Anything. It’s all on me.”

“I don’t want to start over with you, Carlito.” You let out a shaky breath, feeling nothing but love, trust, lust, affection, and everything you ever felt for Carlito in these past five years rush back to you.

“You’re still my fiancée.” Carlito reminds you, running his finger over your engagement ring. “Come here, please. Let me touch you. Let me show you how much I’ve missed you.”

Holding back more tears, you toss your purse off of your shoulder and back to the armchair before getting on Carlito’s lap—letting your thighs rest over the arms of the seat.

Carlito embraces you tightly as the two of you hug one another and you lose the battle between your tears, bursting out into sobs over Carlito’s shoulder instantly. “I missed you so fucking much, you have no idea.”

“Oh, baby…” Carlito murmurs, rubbing up and down your back tenderly. “Believe me, I know. Locked up for five damn years without you.” Carlito pulls you back gently, cupping your cheeks with both hands before planting gentle kisses on both cheeks and then kissing your lips.

Your eyes flutter shut in response as you kiss Carlito back deeply, both of you tasting whiskey off of each other’s lips.

“Will you come home with me?” You ask softly once you pull away from the kiss.

“Yes, of course, baby.” Carlito nods. “You know I’m not spending another moment here I don’t need to without you. I came here for you, you know.”

“Mmm…” You peek down to watch as Carlito rubs your palms up and down with his; your eyes admiring his gold link bracelet and the ring over his pinky finger. “Still can’t believe it.”

“I’m here for you baby, I’m here,” Carlito reassures you, keeping his voice low and soft. “And I’ll prove it to you as much as you want me to.”

“Just…” You hiccup, your bottom lip trembling. “Can you just hold me, please? I haven’t held you for so long that n-none of this feels real. I j-just—” You shake your head, clutching onto Carlito’s shoulders. “I just can’t believe so please just—just hold me.”

“Yeah baby, yeah.” Carlito pulls you tightly in his embrace as you rest your head over his shoulder, refusing to let go. “You know, I could hardly believe it myself when I got the hell out of there. You were all I thought about every single day.” Carlito rubs you back in lazy circles, kissing the side of your neck gently. “I dreamt and fantasized about this day for years.”

“God, Carlito…” You whimper, feeling the warmth and safety of your fiancée down to the heavenly scent of his cologne that all remind you you’re not dreaming but that Carlito is here with you.

“We have a lot to talk about, baby.” Carlito strokes your hair gently. “I wanna talk to you and nobody but you. I wanna hear more about you than me.”

“Come home with me.” You slowly pull back, pulling on Carlito’s hand.

“I don’t wanna be here anymore, just come home with me.”

“Alright, baby.” Carlito agrees. “Let’s go then.” He pushes a curtain of your hair behind your ear. “Come out the back exit with me, I don’t want anyone else bothering us for the rest of the evening. We’ll just go home—”

“And stay home.” You insist.

‘Not just for you to spend the night with me only to disappear in the morning.’

“I’m yours anyways, Evelyn,” Carlito tells you. “I’m not going anywhere unless you want me to.”

~

Despite being able to leave from the back entrance of the club unseen and without any unwarranted attention, everything still feels dream-like and a blur to you.

Pachanga drives you and Carlito home and the car ride is filled with nothing but silence—Carlito holding your hand and you continuing to take in his presence next to you.

Your mind continues to buzz with questions and although you love Carlito without a doubt, there are still so many questions unanswered and unresolved that it makes you all the more anxious and uneasy not knowing what just happened to your fiancée.

Throughout the car ride, you know your mind isn’t going to figure out what it wants until you get back to your apartment at least.

When you step out of the car, your legs feel like concrete as you unlock the apartment lobby door and lead Carlito up to your suite.

Carlito can still tell you’re visibly upset just by watching your body language, but he neither stops you nor says anything.

Both of you know the two you need to be home with all the privacy you can have to be transparent and honest with each other further, but it’s different.

From the very moment you both get into your apartment, it’s not a matter of sighing and getting drinks to sit down and have a few hours long of serious conversation but as soon as you both step in, take off your shoes and you set your purse aside, you both turn around to face each other by the door.

“Carlito,” you let out a shaky breath, placing your hand over his chest.

Dying to touch you, talk to you, be with you again, and hating himself for everything else aside, Carlito’s drawn to you like a magnet.

You both find yourselves in each other’s embrace once again, kissing feverishly as if it’ll be the last time you do so.

Your lips ache and throb to feel Carlito’s over them again and again—desperate and still in love.

“Carlito,” you manage to whimper throughout the kiss as Carlito picks you up effortlessly, wrapping your thighs around his waist and giving your ass a squeeze before taking you to your bedroom.

Carlito doesn’t take his eyes, lips, or hands off of you as he does so and you’re just as insistent as him by the way you squeeze your thighs around Carlito’s waist.

Carlito lays you down on your bed without moving off of you, tugging off your sequin dress as you continue to lose yourself in the haze of the kiss you both share.

Before you know it, clothes are quickly being thrown off and there’s a sense of lustful aggressiveness in the bedroom until Carlito’s fully naked and throwing off your dress and panties to the side like nothing.

“Carlito…” You gasp, snapping back to reality as your breasts jiggle and spring free, leaving you and Carlito naked and completely vulnerable with each other.

You both look into each other’s eyes, breathing heavily as Carlito places both of his hands over your hips. “You don’t know anything…” Carlito begins to run his hands up and down the sides of your body. “How I feel for you, how everything I do has always been for you.”

You run your hands through Carlito’s dark, silky hair before cupping his cheeks. “You have a lot to make up to me, you know that…?” You breathe hotly over Carlito’s lips.

“Yeah?” Carlito whispers, growing further aroused by the passing second.

“You can start now.” You pull Carlito in closer to him, pressing your lips against his in a wet, full-mouthed kiss.

Your body yearns and begs for every bit of Carlito’s touch, obsessed with the way his hands work to arouse, tease and please you.

Through half-open, lazy eyes distracted by arousal and the scent of sex filling the room, you see Carlito pumping his cock to prepare himself to make up for missing your intimacy these past five years—only scratching the surface tonight.

Panting and quivering through arousal as both of your bodies collide with one another, you tug and pull on Carlito’s hair—letting your hands roam down his shoulders and muscular back.

“You’re mine…” Carlito smacks both of your thighs, firmly squeezing them before his hands find your ass.

“Mm! Yes!” You breathe out, feeling that spark of arousal and passionate fire light inside of you just at the sight of Carlito kissing up and down your body, adoring every inch of your skin.

“Fuck,” Carlito hisses out, the sexual tension only continues to rage between the two of you as his lips close in for another kiss over yours.

Your pussy throbs in response to the shaft of his cock slicking up against it and your arousal only doubles throughout the teasing foreplay.

Keeping eye contact, Carlito slowly slips to fingers inside your mouth and watches as you eagerly suck and wet them.

‘Oh my God, please.’ You watch as Carlito pops his fingers out of your mouth before moving his hand down and rubbing them gingerly over your clit before swirling them around your entrance.

You surprise yourself by moaning as loud as you have, gyrating your hips forward to Carlito as he applies just enough pressure to make you squirm.

Carlito licks off his fingers eagerly before beginning to press his thumbs down on the creases of your inner thigh, spreading your pussy open slowly before he presses his fingers against your entrance once more.

“More, m-more, more,” you moan breathily as you feel Carlito slowly snake a finger inside of you, curling it inward. “Oh God, yes…”

As Carlito begins to finger you, he hovers over your body and grazes his tongue against your bottom lip, feeling you writher in pleasure underneath him.

Carlito uses his thumb to lazily circle over your dewy clit while continuing to finger you, keeping his free hand tangled in your hair to exert dominance over you.

Whimpering back in Carlito’s mouth, you feel him gently bite at your bottom lip and slowly pull it towards him before he re-enters your mouth with his tongue, kissing you again.

But before you can even get enough of the heated kiss, Carlito’s quick to pull away and keep you waiting.

Stunned and confused, you watch as Carlito pulls his fingers out of you and cups your ass to raise your thighs up only to bury his face immediately onto your pussy, slobbering all over it.

“Ohhhh my God!” You shriek, clutching the bedsheets so tightly that your knuckles strain white.

You can feel all of Carlito’s tongue pressed up against the folds of your pussy, licking and slurping upwards to your clit.

“Carlito! YES, YES!” Moaning louder and louder, you feel an orgasm beginning to grow in your gut as your body aches and begs for more.

Shaky little moans come out of your mouth as your muscles tense up and relax again and again from the sensation of pleasure flowing through you.

Carlito’s spit easily mixes in and gets lost within your pussy’s wetness and he doesn’t relent as he slides his tongue all over your clit, focusing solely on it.

Carlito laps up your sweetness, causing you to curl your toes from how his beard brushes up against your clit and stimulates it further.

From the sloppy, messy way Carlito eats your pussy and from how dangerously aroused you’ve become, all of Carlito’s spit and your pussy juices begin to trickle down your ass and inner thighs.

Your pussy contracts from the pleasure and you almost hate yourself for how badly you crave Carlito now, feeling his lips suckling sweetly over your clit.

“Oh, baby.” Carlito pants as he raises his head up from between your legs, breathing heavily. “You’re ready for me.”

Carlito’s husky, sexy voice coupled with the way his hair has tousled already paints the perfect picture of erotica to you.

Keeping his eyes on yours, Carlito takes your right thigh and moves your body to the side as he curls up behind you—both of you laying on your sides.

“P-please, please, please, fuck me—” You clasp a hand over your mouth, rolling your eyes back in pleasure as Carlito continues to keep your thigh raised upward, pushing the tip of his cock inside of you to fuck you from the side.

“Oh baby, you feel so fucking good, you know that? Shit…” The curve of Carlito’s cock hits every weak spot inside of you from the first thrust alone and Carlito can already feel your pussy contracting against his cock, begging to be fucked.

Thrusting in an upwards angle, Carlito presses his naked body against yours and lets his hands wander over your breasts while he continuously presses wet kisses down your shoulders. “So fucking tight…”

From the way Carlito rocks your body back and forth, beginning to thrust deeply until you feel every inch of him entering you again and again to the way his thumbs toy with your hardened nipples, you almost feel intoxicated with arousal and pleasure.

You lazily glance over your shoulder at Carlito who returns the gaze, breathing against your skin and letting out a deep groan. “D-don’t you dare stop…” You squeeze your eyes shut, whimpering and letting yourself moan as loud as need be from the way Carlito fucks you.

“Not until you’re screaming my name, baby.” Carlito can practically feel his cock pulsating inside of you. Keeping his thrusts steady and deep, giving your breasts a smack before trailing his fingers back down to your clit.

Both sensations of pleasure draw the filthiest moans out of you yet and you can barely keep still on the bed from the way your thighs begin to shake from your orgasm dangerously approaching.

Carlito has complete control over your orgasm but is eager to have you cum before himself, watching the way your body reacts against his.

“Yeah, baby, just like that…” Carlito watches his cock easily sliding in and out of you at a quickened pace, causing your ass to redden from how fast and hard Carlito’s hips come into contact with yours.

“Yes, yes, yesssss!” You push your hips back against Carlito’s, only feeling his thrusts grow all the more forceful. “F-fuck me, Carlito! Fuck—fuck me! HARDER!”

Carlito’s kisses over your back harshen just as his thrusts do, filling the room with the sloppy sounds of your pussy sloshing against Carlito’s cock with every thrust.

“You gonna cum for me baby? Hmm?” Carlito squeezes your raised thigh, noticing how you can barely come out with a coherent sentence now from the way Carlito begins to approach thrusting to your G-spot, hitting it when you least expect it.

“Y-yes! I’m—ohhhh! Yes, I’m cumming! Cumming, I’m cumming!” You shriek out, unable to hold your orgasm back as it finally releases out of you.

Creaming over Carlito’s cock from orgasm, the euphoric sensation washes over you like waves in a current from head to toe while Carlito only continues to keep up his ruthless pace of thrusting as you cum.

Carlito slams his hips upward into yours once more, holding you tightly against his chest to see your eyes snap open in surprise from feeling spurts of hot, sticky cum shooting up inside of you.

“O-oh my God,” you pant, unable to stop your thighs from quivering. “Carlito…”

“God…” Carlito pants against your shoulder, holding your thighs steadily before slowly beginning to pull his cock out of you.

“Ooh!” You let out a soft gasp as the feeling of fullness leaves you and Carlito’s cum begins to slowly ooze out of your pussy.

Carlito circles his thumb against your pussy’s entrance, smearing and pushing his cum into you. “You’ve no idea how much I’ve missed fucking you like this…”

“Mmmmm, C-Carlito,” you barely have the energy to flip over and face him—nothing but a flustered and freshly fucked mess in Carlito’s grasp.

Slowly turning to face Carlito, you swallow hard—still recovering from the aftermath and hypersensitivity over your body.

Carlito chuckles, stealing a kiss from your lips and giving your cheek a gentle caress as both of you still feel the tingling sensation of your recent orgasms.

Still, after five years of sleeping alone to the thought of Carlito in tears, you don’t intend on letting your first night with him after all that time end so soon.

You match Carlito’s passion, taking him by pleasant surprise as you kiss around the outline of his jawline—simply unable to get enough of your fiancé.

“Baby…” Carlito nudges the blankets on your bed away from him to get closer to you before you move down his body, gripping his still erect cock in your hand. “Fuck,” Carlito grunts, bucking his hips up in response and leaning up on the bed upon his elbows.

You lay down on your stomach, popping Carlito’s cock in your mouth and licking upwards quickly before saying, “I missed you too, you know.”

“Not as much as I thought.” Carlito chuckles breathily, moving your hair out of your face as you begin to graze your tongue alongside the tip of his cock.

“Mm? What do you mean?” You wrap your tongue around Carlito’s tip.

“You asked me how I knew you’d be at the club tonight.” Carlito’s breath hitches.

“Mhmm…” Your mouth remains in perfect rhythm against his cock, drooling all over it as you let your tongue do the work. “Is there anything you can’t do? I know how you know…”

“Oh, yeah,” Carlito hisses, watching you suck him off. “I figured. You’re a smart woman.”

“So you know anything and everything, huh?” You smirk up at Carlito before swirling your tongue around his shaft and tasting yourself off of his cock. “I’m impressed… I didn’t figure out a thing until you told me you knew I’d be at the club tonight.”

“I didn’t want you to be bothered, baby.” Carlito groans quietly, “you know I didn’t pay someone to ‘stalk’ you—just wanted you to be safe and happy.”

“You have your reasons, huh?” Your lick Carlito’s precum off of your lips. “Tonight if anything, has always been about your reasons.”

“I want to know your reasons, baby.” Carlito watches you bob your head up and down on his cock. ”That guy, for one. Mm…”

“Mm?” You stare up at Carlito, continuing to suck him off.

“You know I don’t like sharing what’s mine, Evelyn.” Carlito grips your hair, guiding your mouth down on his cock further. “Never have, never will…but I know about that date.”

You roll your eyes, popping Carlito’s cock out of your mouth. “Oh please, you know it was nothing.”

“Nothing?” Carlito’s eyes dart over yours. “Date with a new guy doesn’t sound like nothing to me.”

“And whose cock is in my mouth right now? Don’t tell me you’re jealous.” Turned on by his jealousy, you take Carlito’s cock back into your mouth like candy.

“And if I am?” Carlito groans softly.

“There’s only you for me.” You hum against Carlito’s cock. “I didn’t take my ring off at that date either but mmm… I bet your little spy didn’t tell you that much.”

“My spy,” Carlito repeats, chuckling quietly. “You know I believe you.”

You slurp up your spit off Carlito’s cock, swallowing before leaning back up to him. “I believe you too.”

“I still have much to make up to you, baby.” Carlito moves over, tilting your chin up to face him. “Open your mouth, baby.”

You do as he says eagerly, waiting.

Carlito spits in your mouth, taking you by surprise as you whimper—turned on and aroused instantly by his actions all over again as you swallow down his spit.

“’Atta girl,” Carlito smirks at you. “Say ‘thank you, sir’.”

“Thank you, sir.” You breathe back, seeing that the old Carlito you love, know, and fucked is most definitely back.

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Hey I hope you are well! I saw the fic ask game list you had shared and just wanted to submit an ask for K and L :)

Hey love! I'm doing better than yesterday, but still a little off - this is me trying to break out of a little funk, so thanks for asking!!

That first one, though... oof. mkay, so listen... I am a very damaged individual. Know that before you judge me, because this is about to get dark. (also, it's in-depth so is long)

K: *Big breath* Gonna start with trigger warnings: non-con, dream torture, forced preg termination, psychological torture.

oookie, so this is a super long fic that is actually where my Vacation fics originated. Gonne just highlight the gist - Fem reader is force sensitive and was taken by a sith dude to be used to try to make her father reveal the location of jedi holocrons. That failed, so he tried to make her his apprentice, which also eventually fails, so he he tortures her to try to break her will to fight him, at which point the non-con and forced preg termination occurs. She escapes and crashed onto Ord Mantel where she run into Omega, ends up saving her from some bounty hunters but is wounded even further in the process so ends up being taken off world with the guys (sans Crosshair who is briefly mentioned to have left the Empire but refused to rejoin his brothers after the events of season 1). She and Hunter slowly become a thing, and they run into Crosshair on opposite sides of a retrieval mission, but there's an ice cave in and Cross and the oc end up having a bonding moment before they're rescued, after which, she starts sending him regular messages occasionally with commentary from the others in some effort to include him in his brothers' lives once more. Jump forward several months: that sith captures her and uses force bs to give her dreams where cf99 (sans Cross because he wasn't actively with them when she was captured) tortured her so when she's eventually rescued, she's so traumatized that she can't be in the same room with them without having a panic attack. They'd call Crosshair for help getting her out, and she ends up clinging to him as she recovers, so much so, that when he leaves, she goes with him. There's this super heartbreaking reoccurring hope from Hunter that she'll come back, but, months later, she still can't get within several feet of him without having a panic attack and has to really push the idea that she's not coming back but that it's not his fault, and when, after about a year of traveling together, she and Crosshair become a thing, oooo there's so much angst and confusion. There's a relatively happy ending, but I kinda wrote it in broken chunks, so it's pretty much only half written and will likely never see the light of day, but that's my most angsty idea.

L: The real question is: how many tiny edits do I make after posting... Honestly, this varies significantly. Most chapters don't get revised so much as edited or maybe reworded here and there. I think there have only been one or two where I just didn't like how it was going and ripped my heart out by totally deleted a chunk to start over (that's a lie - I copy it onto a separate word document in case I change my mind). I still go back to old chapters and realize I wrote "spook" instead of "spoke" or, my favorite "fingered" instead of "figured"

Thanks again and sorry it got to long winded!

Fanfic Ask Game

[retrobutterflies]

Déjà Vu Blues | s.h.

Steve Harrington x Female!Reader

Summary: Past feelings about one of the worst nights of Steve's life has him reeling from the eerily similar scenario he finds himself in. And he really can't stomach a repeat especially when you hold his delicate heart in your hands.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, very tame and they are cry babies :)

A/N: I've been a leech to fanfics for far too long. Consider this my penance and my contribution. If there are any typos no there aren't.

This scenario was uncomfortably familiar. From the eerily similar playlist down to the repugnant bowl of punch whose dark red color stirred up a pit of anxiety in Steve's stomach. The cold pale ale in his hand that he miraculously found in the dredges of a cooler was becoming more of a toy than a beverage. The metal crinkled and bent every time his fingers clenched and by the time he realized he was nearly crushing it he set it down on the counter harshly, droplets littering the marble countertop.

His eyes roamed the living room, bouncing from face to face, head to head, looking for a glimpse of you. You had disappeared only twenty minutes ago with your friends to play beer pong or smoke or touch the grass or–Whatever. You went to do something without him and he was anxious. He knew he was being irrational. You had other friends. You were allowed to enjoy a party. You were allowed to have fun, something he, apparently, wasn't sure how to have anymore.

Maybe it was losing everyone he had called a friend for most of his teenage years. Maybe it was Nancy Wheeler ripping his heart out and stomping on it at its most vulnerable state. Or maybe it was the lasting effects of inter-dimensional trauma making him believe everyone he loved was going to die. He knew it was a vicious combination of the three. And, probably, the overarching theme of his unrequited, pathetic crush on his best friend.

He was the biggest fucking cliché imaginable. And here he was, eyeing the birthday decorations that overwhelmed Tina's (or was this Tasha's?) house, seeing everyone laughing and dancing and singing and he was moping in the corner glancing at the back door every other second in the hopes that you would stroll in and make his irrational, annoying anxiety go away.

Fuck.

He picked up his pale ale again, grimacing at it before touching the metal to his lips and tipping it back. The coolness was welcomed but he knew the alcohol wasn't going to help his mental state. In fact, it was probably going to make everything worse. But he pushed the warning bells to the back of his mind, squinted his eyes tight, and emptied the can moments later. 

"Hell yeah, Harrington! Shotgun!" Some kid dressed in a toga Steve had never even seen before slapped him hard on the back before puncturing his own beer can and slamming it back at an alarming rate. Steve gave him a wince before digging back into that same cooler for his second of many.

By the time you had finished your long conversation with your friends about some drama you had been an unwilling witness to, it was an hour since you had last seen Steve. Your friends scattered off one by one and you made your way back inside hoping to find him somewhere amongst the chaos.

You had felt guilty leaving him earlier but the insistent tug from your friends and the reassuring smile Steve had sent your way made you acquiesce. And you hoped he was feeling better. You could tell the whole ride to Tina's house that he was agitated. Half a year ago at this same house he was having his heart broken and his world shattered. That had been a nightmare. And it took you a while to navigate the aftermath and help piece Steve back together. And even then, even after he had concluded that him and Nancy were better off as friends, something else had happened a few months ago that had left him bloody and scarred. Something he refused to tell you about despite your countless efforts.

You knew it was something bad. Something bad enough to leave him a fractured version of himself. It scared you shitless when he showed up at your door, face black and blue with tears in his eyes. You had no idea what to do. It was the first time you had ever seen him so quiet. And even now, six months later, you still had no clue what had happened. But you let him be. You figured one day you would hear about it. One day when he was ready to share. 

But that didn't stop you from endlessly worrying about him. You glanced around the stifling living room. People were pressed so tightly together that you had to shove your way through just to pass. The music was loud and the lights were dim. You stumbled over a few empty cups and fallen decorations.

When you made it to the kitchen, you stared down at the pile of empty cans stacked up next to John McIntyre passed out on the floor. Punch was spilled on his white toga making him look like a homicide victim but his snores and trail of drool on the side of his mouth let you know that he was alive. 

Gross.

As you turned to leave a girl across the kitchen caught your eye.

"Hey, Y/N?" she called. "Are you looking for Steve?"

You weren't sure who she was or how she knew your name but you figured since everyone knew who Steve was you were sometimes lumped in with him.

"Yeah, have you seen him?" you replied. The pitying grimace on her face made you nervous.

"Yeah, him and John were going one for one on the pale ales. He wasn't looking too hot. I think he went to find the bathroom," she explained. You let out a sigh, the guilt from before returning tenfold. 

"Right. Great. Thanks," you said, giving her a weak smile. She returned it, a look of solidarity in her eyes as she turned to her own overly drunk friend who looked seconds away from hurling.

Pushing through more people lingering in the hallways and on the stairs, you finally made your way to the first floor bathroom. The door was shut and you could hear the sink running. You hesitated, hand raised before bringing your fist down to rapt your knuckles on the door.

"Hey, Steve? Is that you?" you called, hoping you weren't interrupting some random partygoer.

You didn't hear a response and went to knock again before the door whipped open. Steve stood there, his bloodshot eyes as red as the giant punch stain decorating his chest.

"Y/N/N? You're here? Hey that's crazy I was just thinking about you. 'M like psychic," he voice was slurred and by the way he was swaying slightly you feared he was well on his way to a gnarly hangover the next day. You slipped into the bathroom with a soft hand on his stomach to push him back and shut the door behind you.

"What have you done to yourself, Steve?" you chastised, eyebrows furrowing as you assessed his stained clothes. 

"Pfft," he huffed, turning away to stumble towards the sink that you realized was still running. "'M having fun. Like a normal teenager. Like Marcus who is the fastest beer shotgunner I have ever seen. You gotta see this guy. 'S like lightning." You furrowed your brows together as you stepped towards him, reaching for the hand towel he had abandoned in the sink that was now soaked from the running water. 

"Marcus?" you questioned. You shut the sink off, ringing out some of the water before turning towards Steve who was gripping the counter and staring at you from the mirror. You shifted him to face you so you could start dabbing the wet towel on his chest, attempting to dilute the dark red punch from his white shirt.

"Marcus Aurelius. Tell me you didn't skip History. The Roman Emperor? Dudes, like, mega famous," he explained, looking down at you with an incredulous look, though you could only imagine how many versions of you he was seeing with his glassy eyes. Your mind flashed to John and his toga covered in punch on the kitchen floor and let out a small laugh.

"Right. Marcus Aurelius. Did you guys take a dive in the punch bowl? Why are you covered in it?" you asked. 

"Gonna be honest. I don't remember. Actually, the last, like, twenty minutes are kaputz," he slurred. He swayed again and you caught his biceps in your hands. 

"Here, sit down before you fall and crack your skull open," you commanded, guiding him to sit on the closed toilet seat.

"Would not be the worst thing. I feel like every other minute I'm, like, bleeding," he commented, his brows furrowing. 

"Yeah, I know. You've given me high blood pressure," you joked although a small part of your heart pinched at the increasing scenarios in which Steve was wounded. Some of which you didn't even know the context.

"S'okay. I'm strong. Frequency makes the heart grow stronger . . . or something," he mumbled and you bit your lip to stop the silly smile spreading across your face.

"That is not how that saying goes." You moved away to rinse out the flannel, the red liquid swirling around the white sink.

"How would I know I'm not a scholar," he said. You peaked over at him to see him lean back and slump down, his eyes trailing up the far wall.

"I couldn't even get into community college," he huffed. You froze for a second, feeling the cold water rush over your hands as you stared down at the sink. The tug in your heart at the sudden insecurity seeping into his words made you feel helpless.

"You know," you started, squeezing out the excess water from the hand towel before walking back over to Steve. "College isn't for everyone. Some people's strength lies outside the world of academia."

He sighed, blinking heavily before his eyes met yours. His pupils were blown wide and rimmed red but the warm brown of his irises still twinkled under the incandescent lighting.

"My skills lie in ice cream scooping apparently. M'gonna be so good at dressing like a sailor and being depressed," he grumbled. You stepped forward and pressed the towel back onto his chest. He whined at the coldness, hands reaching up to wrap around your wrists but you held firm, knowing the shirt had a limited time frame to be saved.

"It's just a summer job, you drama queen. You're gonna figure out what you're supposed to do at some point. It's not a race," you explained. His hands stayed clutching your wrists, grip loosening until they were just a warm presence that made your cheeks heat up. His legs parted and he pulled you in further so you stood between them, staring down at his sitting figure.

"Yeah, sure, fine. But what about you, huh? You're gonna get into some super good college and leave me here to wither away," he pouted, eyes locked on yours. You averted your gaze to his stained shirt, knowing keeping eye contact would only disorient you.

"I'm not gonna leave you," you replied, voice soft but firm. 

Being a year below Steve gave you a nice buffer zone to figure out what you were going to do. The thought of going far away for school made you feel nauseous. Leaving your family, your friends, and Steve. You couldn't do it. Even before you realized this was something that was weighing on his mind too. You think if Steve had gotten into university that you would probably be setting your sights on that same school, pathetically enough.

"No, I know you're gonna have to. Everyone does at some point. I'm, like, a temporary tattoo on people's lives," he said. This made your eyes find his and the sadness emanating from them made you lose your breath for a minute.

"Steve," you were at a loss for words, you hands freezing as you stared at him.

"I get it. 'M hard to love. Only a matter of time before people out grow me," he continued. You felt your throat tighten at the harshness of his words. 

"I've been mentally preparing, you know, for when you gotta leave. And I know you're gonna but fuck that's gonna hurt. Gonna probably be the nail in the coffin on this bad boy," he grimaced, left hand going up to rest over his heart as he let out a humorless laugh. You squeezed the towel in your hands, eyes pricking with sudden moisture.

"Steve–" you choked out but he kept rambling, words cutting deeper and deeper, your throat tightening at each syllable.

"God, I'm–I'm gonna be lost without you, Y/N/N," he tugged your wrists down until your hands were in his lap. He took the towel from you, dropping it to the floor so he could hold your hands in his. His thumbs swirled softly on the top of your hands sending chills up your arms. You stood there breathless before him as he stared down at your conjoined hands.

"Maybe I could follow you, wherever you end up. I could be a good house plant or something. Or I could find a great ice cream shop nearby, scoop it up in a new place." His words had your heart rate increasing. You squeezed his hands before letting them go. His brows furrowed together at the loss of contact.

You placed your palms on his cheeks, tilting his face up so his red rimmed eyes that were now growing glassy met yours. Your thumbs rubbed softly on his rosy cheeks, eyes flickering between his as you cut through the dizzying thoughts running through your head.

"Why do you think I'm going to leave you?" You felt crazy asking this. There wasn't even a possibility that you could leave him. He was a mandatory fixture in your life and whatever you did decide to do you knew you were forcing him to be a part of it.

"Aren't you?" he gave you a sad smile as if he had already seen his piteous future in a crystal ball.

"Steve, do you not understand how permanent of a person you are in my life? I was supposed to follow you. Now I'm aggravated that you're making me decide where we end up. You know I'm bad with these kinds of decisions," you hoped your joking tone helped him digest the seriousness of your words.

"We?" He blinked up at you with confusion. You moved a hand to brush away the wisps of hair that fell into his forehead. He leaned in almost unconsciously to your touch and your heart squeezed at the sight of his face relaxing.

"Duh. Did you think I was going to let you leave me? You're, like, singlehandedly the most important person in my life." His eyes welled up more and for a split second you worried you had said the wrong thing.

"Please tell me you're not just saying this to make me feel better," he mumbled, his voice taking on a vulnerable tone. 

"I'm not a therapist or a social worker. In fact, I'm extremely selfish and you are not allowed to go anywhere without me." 

His hands wrapped around your waist and he pulled you in until you were pressed together, his face hiding above the swell of your chest. You felt his tears bleeding into your shirt but you didn't care, arms wrapping around his head as he squeezed you even tighter.

"Please don't cry, Stevie," you nearly whispered, your own eyes swelling with moisture until you could feel stray tears race down your cheeks.

"You can't just say the sweetest things in the world and not expect me to cry. That's inhumane," he croaked into your shirt, fingers digging into your sides.

"Sweet?" you let out a watery laugh, hand combing through his hair hoping to bring him some comfort, "I basically threatened you."

"Right. Threatened me with the best possible future imaginable," he sniffled. 

You were quiet for a moment, clutching each other with equal desperation. You shut your eyes, trying to fight back the unending stream of fresh tears.

"Steve, you're–" you sniffled, grip tightening on him, "You're the easiest person to love. You making loving you like second nature. I can't even . . . I can't even remember a time where I didn't love you."

Your confession hung heavy in the air. He was quiet, face hidden but you could feel the stutter in his breath. Your throat was painfully tight with emotion and you knew your mascara was probably creating racing stripes down your face. But you couldn't stop the sudden overwhelming urge to reassure him of your love for him.

"Y/N," he said finally, his voice low and soft. You felt his hand move to the small of your back, thumb rubbing back and forth giving you goosebumps. "Please don't say that when you don't mean it."

A rush of hot anger shot through you. You pulled back to glare down at him, vision blurry through your tears.

"Who says I don't mean it," you cut back, voice wavering and throat raw.

His eyes met yours and his face looked pained. His cheeks were wet and they glistened under the light. His hands went to rest on your rib cage, grip tight so you couldn't pull back any further.

"You don't mean it the way I mean it," he said back, resolution and sadness soaking his tone.

"I love you," you said all at once. He winced, head shaking, tears pooling, grip tightening.

"Y/N, please–" You cut him off.

"I love you," you said again, hands on his shoulders and eyes glaring down into his.

"Stop–"

"No, Steve. I love you." His eyes rounded and his lips pouted as if he was going to cry more. "I love you. I love you. I love you," you repeated.

"I love you so much sometimes my heart hurts. Sometimes I feel physical pain. And even if I wanted to stop loving you I couldn't. It's impossible," your breath got caught in your throat as a small whimper escaped with a new rush of tears. You wanted so desperately for him to understand the depth of your feelings. Even if he rejected you, you needed him to know.

This time he did break. Whatever morsel of self composure he had left snapped and he was pulling you back to cry openly into your shaking form. You stood there for a while, crying together until you were both visibly drained. Minutes of silence went by until finally you were pulling away.

Steve had never been speechless at any point in his life. He always found something to comment on, some sly remark to be made. But now, looking up at your watery eyes and hearing you repeat tenfold the three words he was starved to hear from anyone let alone you, the one girl he thought was atmospherically out of reach, he was at a loss for words.

"I love you," you repeated again and the phrase was quickly becoming an obligatory sentence to his ears. 

He felt his chin wobble again, threatening another round of hot tears but he fought them back and through the choking tightness of his throat he responded, "Not as much as I love you."

He felt dizzy at the laugh you let out. It was strangled and watery but it was the prettiest thing he thinks he had ever heard. Your eyes glittered like jewels as you peered down at him, a wavering smile on your lips. And he realized that this was decidedly not like the last party he was at. This was, in fact, the best party he the pleasure of attending and he sent a thank you to Tina or Tasha or whoever's fucking birthday it was as he pulled you in closer and closer until he could press his lips to the curve of your collar bone.

Link to my masterlist :)

[cafetxt]

≡☆ txt as fanfic tropes !!

pairing: txt x fem!reader

genre: lots and lots of fluff

a/n: got kinda carried away with this bc it was supposed to be short n sweet …. but pls enjoy!!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

SOOBIN — fake dating

soobin had the biggest crush on you, though you had no idea because you probably didn’t even know who he was (but ofc you knew who he was he was kinda hard not to notice bc he’s a giant). a few months ago you and your popular ex boyfriend had broken up which was a shock to everyone because you had been together for quite a while. the reason behind the breakup was unknown, but soobin was glad you two weren’t together anymore because he absolutely hated your ex. though he wasn’t friends with you or the guy he noticed the way he would treat you, and how he would always lie about being busy to you but then soobin would find him hanging out with a group of people from class not 10 minutes later. you deserved better than him.

over the weekend, rumours spread like wildfire about your ex dating your best friend and how that was the reason you broke up. soobin was worried about you, and he hoped you were doing okay. he was on his way to his 9am lecture that he shared with you and stopped when he turned the corner. you were pacing outside the door and that was all he needed as confirmation to those rumours he heard because your ex and best friend were also in the same class. he made his way over to you and upon hearing his footsteps you stop pacing and pretend to check something on your phone but he doesn’t immediately go inside. you look up to find him standing in front of you with one of his hands held out to you and you frown. “what are you doing?” you question, looking from his outstretched hand to his face. all he says is “take my hand. we can go in together.” and you immediately understand what he’s insinuating but you don’t question it. after a minute of hesitation you grab his hand and walk inside with your chin held high hand-in-hand with soobin; though it wasn’t how he imagined the first time holding your hand would be like he cherishes it.

YEONJUN — angst + mutual pining

from the moment yeonjun met you, he knew he liked you. it wasn’t like he had to meet you many times to decide how he felt because it was so natural with you. it was as if you knew each other in a past life. you might be thinking, soulmates?? yes. but also no. the thing is, yeonjun is quite popular and you can’t even fathom the possibility of him liking you… because he was just him. incredibly good-looking, passionate in all that he does, kind to everyone—he was a solid 10. call it cliche, but you couldn’t see it happening because he could literally have anyone he wanted, so why would he choose you? so, the moment you realized that your feelings towards him was more than just physical attraction you immediately convinced yourself that he would never like you. every time you felt the butterflies come to life in your stomach whenever you saw him told yourself no. he could never possibly love me. yeonjun is way too good for me. and it made you distance yourself from him mentally, and he noticed. and of course, that only made him assume that you didn’t like him. but yeonjun isn’t a quitter; and he planned to let you know how he felt in small ways. he would constantly flirt with you and use the cheesiest pickup lines whenever he saw you, that you just took it as a joke though he was being completely serious because why would he be? it breaks his heart every time you don’t get the message, and he knows he should be clearer but he’s also scared of being a burden to you. until one day, there’s this guy in class who so obviously likes you and always has to come up to where you and yeonjun were sitting to flirt with you. yeonjun was the only one allowed to do that. when he leaves you turn to yeonjun excitedly and say, “oh my god, don’t you think he likes me?!” and all he can do is scoff in response and mutters “i'm more obvious at flirting with you but you can’t notice it?” and you’re like “???? what???” and all he responds with is. “no, nothing. never mind.” 

BEOMGYU — soulmates/coffee shop au 

you both frequent the same cafe every evening because you are NOT a morning person and he starts to notice you because you’re aways there when he comes in for his 2nd iced americano of the day, in that same corner of the cafe hiding behind a book or your laptop. you’re usually on your own, but today you’re accompanied by a friend and as he waits in line to order he finally gets to hear the sound of your voice which he imagined what it would be like so many times. (it’s much better than he thought) he sneaks not-so-subtle glances at you every time you speak and your friend notices this and whispers to you “don’t look, but there’s this cute guy in line who keeps looking at you” and of course you do look and when you catch beomgyu looking he looks away so fast he’s sure he could’ve gotten whiplash. the barista has to ask to take his order for the second time and his ears are on fire, and you can’t help but laugh slightly because it was so cute. beomgyu of course manages to hear your giggles and instead of being embarrassed he starts smiling because he didn’t expect your laugh to sound so beautiful and he suddenly thinks to himself: i want to be the one to make her laugh. nothing happens after that though because something comes up and he has to leave but the next time he arrives to the cafe, you’re not there. he decides to sit in your usual spot and imagine what it would be like if you were there when you walk through the door. the whole time he’s thinking oh my god oh my god oh my god she’s here!! and the cafe just happens to be full and you look over to your spot and that cute boy who was looking at you the other day is sitting there. beomgyu smiles slightly when you look at him and it makes your heart flutter. when you get your iced coffee you take a sip and muster all your courage before you make your way over to him and ask, “do you mind if i sit here?”

TAEHYUN — second chance romance (aka exes to lovers)

you were each other’s first love; it was clumsy and it was messy because you were both young and didn’t know any better. you both have lots of regrets of the way things ended and meet again by chance at the gym—he’s holding a small boxing lesson for anyone interested and you who are in desperate need of a workout decide to attend, not knowing he’s the instructor because if you did, you would’ve tried to look more presentable. maybe put on a bit of mascara and lipgloss. you were in a grey sweatsuit and your hair was tied into a messy ponytail since you literally rolled out of bed before you arrived; your duffel bag slung on your left shoulder and a water bottle in your right hand you look up and see him. his fluffy hair is messy and his black t-shirt clings to his fit frame as he laughs at something someone said. your water bottle suddenly slips from your hand and makes a loud sound when it comes into contact with the ground. you scramble for it and surprise surprise so does taehyun. everyone is looking at you and your cheeks heat up as you reach for it but taehyun beats you to it and you look at him with wide eyes. his gaze meets yours and he looks at you for a moment too long, a million different emotions flashing through his eyes as you both rise slowly, not breaking eye contact until he finally says “… y/n?”

HUENINGKAI — friends to lovers

honestly, if someone were to ask you how exactly you and kai became friends you wouldn’t know how to respond. yeah you both had mutual friends and saw each other on the odd occasion you were with those friends, but you guys never really talked. it sort of built up from that; those unsuspecting meet ups and awkward exchanges of ‘hello’s’ until one day those hellos turned into ’nice to see you again’s’ and ‘how are you doing’s’ and pretty soon you guys started to hang out more often, just the two of you. there was never a dull moment when you were together—you guys were either out of breath from laughing at something stupid or quiet, each doing your own thing; alone together. there was no in-between. it was in fact the perfect friendship; you and kai never really thought about the possibility of your relationship as being anything more than that. until, kai would find himself staring at you with a small smile on face and turning away as soon as you meet his eyes. hugs start to last a little longer than they should. every love song you listened to started to remind you of him. it was obvious to everyone around you that you both had feelings for each other, but you were both to scared to let the other know for fear of losing the other. it's not until one of your friends is with you watching the two of you banter and jokingly says, “so when’s the wedding?” and it leaves both of you extremely red-faced and flustered. 

[rcksmith]

Heaven — Five Hargreeves

Request: “Can I get 53, 31, 48 from fluff and 28 and 29 and 68 with heavy smut? Where Five is an emotionless Assassin from the commission and does his job without remorse or mercy until he meets the reader and he will do anything to make her his? And will kill anyone who gets in his way between him and the reader? If your okay with this!”

Fluff prompts:

31. “I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you.”

48. “nothing else matters except for you.”

53. “There are no limits when it comes to you. I’ll do anything to keep you safe.”

Smut prompts:

28. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

29. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

68. “Say my name over and over again and, once you think you’ve said it loud enough, scream it. I want the whole neighborhood to know who’s making you feel good.“

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here !!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

My God, I loved it so much!! Thank you so much for request, I loved writing it!💖💖 I hope you like!

Guys, I really understand who doesn’t feel comfortable reading or writing Five’s smut. But I always say that I only write with him (any genre: romance, fluff or angst) with the notion that Five is 20 years old here. All of my fanfics mention swearing or sex, even if it is a memory or something shallow, but as I am writing with Five as an adult, it is consistent that the fic has aspects of an adult life.//

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves / Fem! Reader.

Warnings: SMUT, SMUT, bad words, blood, murder, mention of death (and sooo explicit heavy smut), fluff too.

— — — — —

He was not a saint.

The trail of blood, bodies and the smell of death he had left behind could terrify even the strongest mind. He could get the devil to run.

He has already broken many bones, but none of them were his own. Once, there was an army, he was alone, and he broke many bones.

He was not a saint.

If there was a note for death and danger, it would be his symphony of life. Echoing and constant whenever the viscous and metallic liquid stained him white shirt.

Five Hargreeves did not consider himself a good person. But he didn't think he was bad too. He was just minding his own business. Even if it meant killing the innocent people that the Commission was ordering.

It was ironic. Five had been raised by Reginald to be a hero, to save people, and what he was doing was just the opposite. Was Needed cold blood, a focused mind, an objective.

Five had a closed and serious countenance. And in his case, the book could very well be judged by the cover, because Five it was also closed and serious inside. He It had the typical soul of a storm and a rough sea, where the wind blew with fury and the rain punished, while the sea was brutal and with aggressive waves capable of swallowing up a city in its entirety.

Anyone could see the warning sign hanging from his chest: "GIVE UP ALL THE HOPE IF YOU ENTER HERE." He was advancing with heavy artillery. Five was heavy artillery. The Commission considered he best of the best.

Five Hargreeves could get the devil to run. Nobody couldn't fool him, hook him, he wasn't a trout. He was a shark, dangerous and big. With a sharp and cruelly intelligent mind. Working in an equally sharp and cruelly intelligent environment.

But none of that bothered him. Five did not fear the fury of the Commission or its representatives. Machiavelli said that: you can only insult the other if you are not afraid of his retaliation. And Five feared no one. When angry, he had the same caustic look that Lucifer threw around shortly after The Fall. And it was a surprise that that look did not leave a trail of rubble wherever it passed.

Five did not liked what he job did, but it did not affect that he was very good at it. He had been anesthetized for years. Submerged in an inertia of emotions that not even the largest number of victims could tremble. He was already convinced that his furthermore emotions were buried as deep as possible in his soul of the troubled sea, lost. Such as Atlantida. Perhaps, like Atlandida, his emotions were a myth.

And Five had already accepted that. Even he sets eyes on you.

It was another routine day of that profane work: finding the target, shooting down, not leaving witnesses and leaving. And that was exactly what would be done. If it was not you.

Five was seated at one of the tables at a local Irish bar, the glass filled with cold beer set in front of him. The rays of the sun, from a year that he did not even care to know more about, were entering inside the large windows that overlooked the busy streets. People's humorous conversations filled that place with bright, welcoming walls, but Five felt none of it. Anesthetized.

But for some reason, when the door bell rang when someone came in, he raised his face towards the door and... his breath was gone.

The moment you walked through that door, Five knew it was hopeless for him. Your beauty was blinding. Sublime. Impressive. He felt as if his whole life had been wandering in the desert and finally found his oasis. Lepid, fierce heat swept Five's body from the top of his head with night-black hair to the tip of his feet.

You wandered your eyes around the place, and you seemed to find what you wanted because your eyes softened and you went towards your goal.

But just as Five was oblivious to the world because of you, so were you oblivious to the world, but for something else. And it was like this, oblivious, that you hit your waist on the front end of Five's table, causing his glass to swing and fall on the table, pouring all the beer on the floor. Five stood up quickly to keep from getting wet, but a few splashes of the cold drink had hit his suit.

“Oh my God, I'm so sorry!”

You said promptly, trembling hands quickly lifting the glass from the table, your voice nervous and embarrassed. You righted his table while the waitress came to clean up the spilled liquid.

“I wet your suit, god, I'm so sorry.” And when Five noticed,your hands were drying the beer droplets with a napkin.

That was when the two of you looked at each other for the first time. The heat immediately gave way to a cold sweat.

Something inside him stirred and woke up, something that had been dormant for years. Sensations that had never before appeared now snaked through his body, waiting for the best time to hang him. Even with a layer of clothing and a napkin, Five felt the warmth of you touch, and he wondered if you had been forged in the sun.

Dangerous. The sensations you aroused in him were dangerous. And therefore, you were dangerous.

“It's all right.”

If it had been anyone else, Five would have burst. His moods were not one of the best and he felt that anything could set him on fire.

But apparently, not for you.

That afternoon, Five convinced you to join him, saying, whit charming, he would forget about the incident if you sat with him.

He tried to convince himself not to do that, that he should just give a mocking smile and leave. He had done this millions of times, and he knew it was one of the best ways to avoid headaches. Even so, the smile didn't come and he couldn't turn his back on you.

The sensations you stirred up in him were addictive, and Five was lost in a hurricane, trying to understand what was happening to him. But he couldn't let you go. Not without knowing his name.

But it took on proportions that he never considered. You were funny, witty, with an intelligent, warm gleam in your eyes. At that moment, while Five found himself really enjoying someone's company instead of just tolerating it, he felt out of his own body.

God, he was losing track of reality.

He had a job to do, a person to finish. The list was full but... but his body didn't order any muscles to move. It was like... while you were talking to him, with an extraordinary friendliness and ease of making friends, he felt alive for the first time.

Five had been alive for 25 years. But only now did he feel his own heart beat.

But when your time inevitably came, and you said goodbye and thanked you for the lunch that Five and you had — he didn't even remember how the situation got there. Since when did he have lunch with someone? — As soon as you left for that door, it took with you all the new feelings that were aroused within him.

Executing the target that day was weird, going to Motel's room was weird, and cleaning the blood was weird. There was something different, a shortness of breath, an itch in the palm of his hand, his body desperate for something he didn't know what it was.

Five Hargreeves stayed in that martyrdom for days, weeks. He was trying to understand his own body, his own mind. He felt he was losing his sanity and that the body, now that he experienced what it was like to be alive, repudiated the feeling of feeling dead.

He was trapped in some damn spell that you had cast on him. If Five looked in the mirror at the place of the chest you touched over his shirt, he could feel his skin tingle.

Fuck, he was losing his sanity!

The situation was stupid, he didn't need anyone, he didn't depend on anyone. But after the second week Five found himself returning to that bar again, feeling completely stupid to be looking for someone he barely knew.

What a stupid thing. He said to himself as soon as entered that place.

But that's when he saw you. With the bar uniform on, you hair tied up in a ponytail with a few strands dangling from your face, your chest slightly heaving, a pad of paper with a pen in hands. His heart skipped a beat, as if he found something he didn't even know was lost.

Five felt lost amidst a jumble of thoughts and reactions. But as soon as you saw him, with a smile was purely sincere and happy appearing on you lips and went towards him, the answers to all the questions that plagued him for weeks flashed in his mind like neon lights:

I want her.

He wanted you since the day he saw you. You were beautiful, with a maddening body, a sublime smile and the heat of a thousand suns. Now Five realized that had never wanted anything so desperately in his life.

Five thought he understood the desire: an attraction, a magnetic current between two people. He thought he knew what lust was: an intense hunger, a strong yearning. And he found out that he didn't understand anything.

For when you embraced him and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, the desire was a hot, black whirlwind that ripped you from end to end, with dizzying speed, and dragged you towards perdition, below any intellect. Five thought he was going crazy when he felt your heart beat next to his, in the same frantic rhythm. The same compass needed.

But Five was not going crazy. He wasn’t crazy when he saw your cheeks flush when he looked at you more carefully, he wasn’t crazy when he noticed your hands trembling slightly with his presence.

Were you feeling the same things?

Yes. And he found that out when first kissed you. It had been a few weeks since he had used, for himself, the excuse that he was going to that bar just to drink something and not to see you again.

But that was not how you two met that day

Five had just finished a job that did not end soo much great. A fight had taken place, and a bullet had grazed his left shoulder, tearing through the flesh. His clothes were flooded with red, thick, metallic liquid. His muscles ached and the wound stung like hell.

He was on his way back when the car popped loudly, the car stalled in place and smoke began to rise from the bikes.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me!” Five punched the steering wheel, cursed the Commission for making such a damn fuck thing available.

He had just gotten out of the car when a car passed by and stopped.

“Five?” This time, his body throbbed for something else instead of pain.

He saw you get out of the car, your eyes shocked, the livid concern on your face, your hands shaking.

“My god, are you okay?!”

Five hated to appear that he was not able to deal with anything, but there was no plausible and peaceful lie to what you were seeing. You didn't let him make any decisions at that moment, you just stuck him in you own car, and when the chance of taking Five to the hospital had been vehemently denied by him, you ran the car to you own apartment.

“Oh my god, oh my god.”

You whispered to yourself, now at in your bed, closing the cut on Five's shoulder after he took a shower.

“I can do this.” He repeated it for the ninth time, but you shook your head.

But, while for you the situation was only for first aid, for Five it was torture in a very different sense.

Your touch was addictive, hot and fiery. Five didn't want to want you, but he did. He wanted you to beg for it too, so that Five could pretend to be in control. He wanted you to burn for him, just as he always burned when he was near you.

Under a light gauze, you covered the bruise on his shoulder, letting out a loud sigh that went to another very specific spot on Five's body. You asked for an explanation and he said that he had been mugged and reacted, but that the bandits had received what they deserved. He had to lie. At least for now. At least while he wanted you so much to touch him.

Perhaps this madness would pass.

But it didn't pass, your hands were still on Five's warm skin and he felt his heart pounding in his chest.

He wanted you. Holy Mother of God, he wanted you so fuck much! The knuckles of his fingers were whitened, the strength with which he clenched his fists.

But you whispered his name under your breath, as if you too were trapped in that cloud of lust and passion. So it was the end. Five kissed you, hungry, desperate, as if he wasn't going to have a tomorrow. He pulled you around the waist so you could sit on his lap, his hands roaming your body, squeezing all the flesh he could touch.

“I was asking how much more time was take to you to kiss me.”

You whispered against his lips, with a mischievous smile on your face, your hands roaming through his hair as you held a sigh when he adjusted your hips under you. God only knows how long you've been dreaming about this guy.

“Such a needy little thing, aren't you?” Five barely recognized his own voice.

This time, you who kissed him, your body burning in suppressed passion and desire, burning under the intense touch of Five. You hardly saw it when your shirt left, nor when you skirt went up until it was exposed to him. You whimpered, your lips going down to his neck and hiding your face there, squirming when his hand went up from your thigh to its pulsating center.

“Your skin is so hot. You were wishing for that, weren't you?” Five whispered, his voice hoarse.

You heart was beating fast in chest, cheeks were flushed, and Five brought your face up to look at him, lust bubbling in her eyes. You frantically agreed, rummaging you hips in him when you gasped. He curled his mouth over your left breast, groaning against your skin as you tightened your fingers on the back of his neck.

“F-five!” The liquid dripped from inside you to your thighs, and Five let out a loud moan of satisfaction when he saw it.

He raised his mouth to you, and, without kissing you, he sighed maliciously on yours lips: “I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

After that point, everything became more crude. Five's touch on your waist gained pressure, marking your skin with purple marks on his fingers, his mouth bit and sucked on your breast, like a hungry man, and you were being driven crazy.

That's when two of his fingers entered you, deep, strong, opening your walls.

"Five!" You moaned loudly, your body hot under his lap, at the mercy of lustful desires.

“Shit! You are so tight!” His moan transcended between painful and angry, as if you were pushing him to the limit. “How are you going to put up with my dick, doll? You almost can't take my fingers!”

Five jerked his fingers inside you and hit rock bottom. You screamed, tears welling up in your eyes, the walls throbbing on his dick.

“Answer me!” His free hand came down on your thigh, and you bit your lip to keep from moaning loudly again.

“II am going to put up with you-everything.” You whined.

“How much?!” Five pulled your chin up to look at him, the hunger overwhelming his eyes, he's holding on as much as possible so he doesn't deal too badly with you.

Not yet.

“An-Anything as you give it to me.” You purred like a kitten "Fuck me hard, Five."

Oh you didn't say that.

His hand came down on your left cheek, letting out a soft slap and pulled your chin back at him, he jaw clenched by the effort he made to keep from fucking and hitting you so hard.

“Do you want it hard?! I will leave you without walking for days!” Five got up with you on his lap, threw you on the bed and slapped your thigh.

“Turn around!” He ordered in a snarl, removing his own pants, and as soon as you positioned yourself with your hips up and your face on the mattress, a hard, brutal slap made you moan loudly, squeezing your hands on the pillow.

The right hand wrapped around your hair, pulling your face off the pillow as Five positioned itself behind you.

“What you want?” He growled.

“I whant You fuck me hard!” God, you were begging, you needed him so much, you wanted him so much.

“How much hard?”

“Much! I want you to fuck me until I can't stay…”

Five came inside you brutally, pushing your body onto the mattress, making you moan loudly. He didn't let you finish, it barely gave you time to moan. As soon as he started to move, his rhythm became relentless, coarse, rude, forcing himself deeper inside you with each thrust.

Tears stung your face, you pussy throbbed in excitement, so fucking good that you felt like you were in heaven.

“What is it, lillet slut?” He pushed deeper, his voice arrogant and condescending, “Am I too big for you? For that tight pussy?” A slap went down your ass again, the other hand never coming out of your hair.

“F-fi-five! Please, I need this so much!”

The desperation in your voice did things to him, further igniting Five's desire to fuck you until he broke you.

“You were so tight! So. fucking. tight!” And you moaned and pushed him hips at him like you couldn't live without what he gave you. “Fuck, this is what you wanted, isn't it? You wanted me to broke you!”

“Yes!” You screamed as he keeping fuck you deeper and deeper “Pl-please!”

Your voice was too much for him! Five's hunger snarled and roared like a beast, increasing the desire to get you so badly. He hit your ass hard, letting go of your hair and sticking both hands on your waist, pulling you violently to his dick.

“Say my name over and over again! And, once you think you’ve said it loud enough, scream it. I want the whole neighborhood to know who’s making you feel good! ” Five combined a deep thrust with the tug on his waist, making his dick reach your unimaginable corners.

“Five!”

“Higher!” A slap.

“Five!” One more slap.

“Higher!” Another slap.

“F-FIVE!”

His mouth went to your shoulder, his lips tightening there as he pushed himself deep inside you. You were very close, super stimulated, your legs were shaking, your heart was pounding.

Five was fucking you so hard that you could barely groan, giving you sensations that you never felt before. You came with a loud groan, trembling on his dick, losing your breath when Five sank to the bottom of the well and came there, filling you with his hot cum.

Five Hargreeves thought that after that he would be free of your effects, freed from that desperation that was always wanting to be with you.

But then again, he was deeply mistaken.

Everything only increased in unimaginable proportions. Jealousy came, the overwhelming sense of protection, the need to be with you. Now he not only fucked you hard, but he made a point of leaving you at work and picking you up at night.

And that's when you said you loved him. And his world has turned inside out once again. Five didn't respond right away, he was dumbfounded and bewildered, and you said he only had to speak when he was ready.

He love you? That question hung around his mind for days.

Five felt at peace with you company, relaxed with your touch, happy whenever he heard your voice. You were the only place he thought about going back after a hard job, after the day had gotten the best of him.

He love you?

That was when The Handler told him, in one day, that it was good that his new “pet” did not make him deviate from the Commission's objectives.

Five has never felt so furious in his life. He came as close to her as possible, making her look death in the eye, and said that if any hair disappeared from your pretty head, he would stop everything and kill everyone on that commission. And The Handler knew that Five was not bluffing.

That's when he found out that he loved you. That the idea of ​​seeing you hurt, even if it was a scratch, was unacceptable. And that's when Five realized that his world only revolved when you were with him.

“I love you.” He released that night, you were lying on his chest, watching some series on TV when Five cut off the characters' lines.

You looked at him in bewilderment, propping yourself up on your elbow to see him better.

“What?”

Five looked him in the eye, and in the most sincere and truthful way, he said: "nothing else matters except for you."

Your eyes filled with tears, and you kissed him as if Five were your whole world. In fact, he certainly were your world. But it was at that moment that he said he had to talk to you, and that's when he told you the whole truth.

Shocked would be an understatement to say what you felt at that moment.

It took a few days for you to digest the whole truth and several conversations with Five to understand what was really going on. You saw his powers, his briefcase, his life story. And Five knew, when the dust settled and you said that none of that mattered, that you really loved him.

“I just can't have anything with someone who hides things from me.” You said “ I understand the reasons why you didn't tell me before, but now I don't want any more lies between us.”

“None.” He smiled, and looked at you as if he finally understood that you loved him.

And it is logical that you noticed.

“ I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you." You laughed.

And in that moment, in that fraction of a second, Five realized that he would never be able to live without you.

“I'm just afraid of your job. Whether you get hurt or they want to hurt you coming after me and…”

Five didn't let you finish. He held you in his hands, your cheeks in his palms, and whispered, “There are no limits when it comes to you. I'll do anything to keep you safe. ”

[therenlover]

In Fleeting Touches & Airy Sighs Chapter One (A Three Chapter Helmut Zemo/Reader Fanfic)

(Thank you to the wonderful anon who requested angst and smut between Zemo and the reader because Zemo had to be away from her on the run!)

Synopsis: A year after working together with Zemo in the events of Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Sam and Bucky seek him out once again in need of shelter from John Walker. Meanwhile, Zemo’s wife resents his absence and prepares for guests.

Tags: Flashbacks, Depression, Alcoholism, Separation Anxiety, Arguing, Struggling Marriage, Reunions

Rating: T (E in future chapters)

Warnings: Guns, Swearings, Reader shows signs of alcoholism/alcohol abuse, Reader uses a hot shower as a mild form of self harm

Word Count: 5000~

This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!

----------

Helmut Zemo was not often a man backed into a corner.

He was smart, resourceful, and had nothing left to lose. If it came down to the line, he would do whatever had to be done within his morals to achieve his goals, even if that goal was simply staying alive. The Baron bowed to no man, and made his enemies, no matter their size, fall to their knees with sheer wit instead of brute strength. That’s why, when he stood backed into an alley with the barrel of James Barnes’ gun to his forehead as the Falcon watched on, it was strange that he didn’t try to weasel his way out.

“We need answers,” Sam said, hands in the pockets of his dark hoodie. Bucky wore a similar one, only he wore a baseball cap instead of keeping his hood up. “How the hell did you break out of prison for a second time?”

Usually, Zemo would have replied with a clever quip. He had never been one to back down from a fight. This time, though, he looked almost frightened as he raised his arms in defeat. “I got in contact with friends on the outside during our short adventure together. They decided to help me out once I was re-incarcerated, willingly I might add. I had no part in the plan, but who would look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“And I guess I’m just supposed to assume you had no part in getting my pardon revoked?” Bucky spat.

“If you hadn’t noticed, James, I’ve left you alone,” A hint of his usual mockery slipped into Helmut’s tone, but he quickly pulled it back, “Believe what you want about me, but I’ve had some time since last year to… re-evaluate my feelings on the world. You had no choice but to do the things you did as the Winter Soldier, and as long as you pose no threat to society now I have no qualms with you,”

Despite the strangeness of Zemo’s response Bucky remained unphased. Sam, on the other hand, was less stoic.

“Man, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the government is looking for Bucky and I harder than they’re looking for you, and it’s kind of all your fault, so excuse me for not giving a shit about your supposed sudden change of heart!”

“Can we get to the point? I’m afraid my flight leaves in an hour and I would hate to be late,”

“Cut the bullshit!” There Bucky went, pushing the cold metal closer to Zemo’s furrowed forehead.

“Bucky...” Sam warned.

“No, Sam, I can do this. Did you or did you not actively attempt to get my pardon revoked when you took us to Madripoor? Because thanks to you, a worse symbol than Sam is now standing unchecked with the title of Captain America AND he has access to the last of the new super soldier serum AND he’s trying to get us killed so we can’t tell the world about the awful shit he does,”

“I-” Zemo went to speak and, for the first time since he had met him, Sam believed he was being genuine. There was a tremble that made its way through him, all the way to his raised hands and even his voice. It was enough that Bucky even lowered the gun minutely. “I understood that by following my lead, the both of you were risking a lot. I didn’t intend any specific malice with my actions though, no. If I may… the two of you have attracted a lot of attention here in the past few days. I assume Walker is very close to finding you?”

Sam and Bucky shared a look before Sam responded. “Maybe, why?”

“I have a safe house,” he continued, “I don’t stay there often so the location isn’t compromised, but it’s my next stop. Might I suggest we take this conversation on the road? I would hate to host your reunion with Mr. Walker in an alley over my corpse,”

There was a moment of complete stillness. Zemo remained, face dark with that strange deer-in-headlights look, a perfect statue, as the barrel of Bucky’s gun remained pointed firmly in his direction and Sam shared what seemed to be a completely silent conversation with Bucky. It was true that they had been burned before. Zemo was a man with his own agenda who did what it took to fulfill it. That being said, he had returned willingly with them back to prison before he was broken out, and without his help, the band of freshly minted super soldiers would still be running around Europe causing chaos. In the end, Bucky lowered his gun slowly before tucking it away into his boot holster.

Zemo grinned.

“Don’t think this means we trust you,” Sam groaned, pointing a finger at the man.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Now, gentlemen, I believe we have a plane to catch,”

As the trio began to make their way out of the alley Bucky and Sam fell to the flank of the group. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” Bucky asked, eyes darting between his two companions. Sam shrugged.

“At this point, I’m doing whatever it takes to get home to my family in one piece. If that means I have to ride in Zemo’s stupid private jet again and lay low for a while, then that’s what I’m gonna do, because Sarah and those kids don’t deserve to lose me all over again,”

“But don’t you think he’s acting a little… weird?”

“Don’t worry, I have my eye on him. If he tries anything we can just throw him out front when Walker tries to shoot us,”

“You’re doing a very poor job of concealing your conversation,” Zemo shouted.

Bucky stormed ahead as Sam laughed.

“Oh, shut up!”

Surprisingly, the drive to the airstrip was mostly uneventful, as was the relatively short flight from Zurich to Avignon. There was, of course, the usual cutthroat banter and tension so thick you could feel it like a fog hanging over the group, but in an unusual twist of fate, the baron did very little to initiate. Of course, he wasn’t fully innocent though. He never was. That being said, even as his chauffeur carefully navigated the stone roads to the dropoff point he was strangely quiet. He had texted someone earlier to have the house prepared for their arrival but he kept looking down at the phone as if a response would come. It didn’t.

Sam appreciated the break from the noise. To him, it was a moment of peace after a few months of constant opposition. For the duration of the trip, he had chosen to shoot a few choice quips Bucky’s way before taking a long nap. Bucky, on the other hand, was only growing more suspicious of Zemo by the minute.

After his time with Hydra, Bucky had become intimately acquainted with the type of man that Zemo was. He was ruthless, driven by ideals that couldn’t be changed by any amount of debate or theory read inside a prison cell, and willing to do whatever it took to fulfill those ideals no matter the cost. There was remorse but no regret. A man like that doesn’t just stop believing in the thing that led him to kill dozens if not hundreds of people, because once the impetus is gone so is the only thing upholding their sense of self.

In basic terms, he was hiding something. Bucky was intent on finding out what that thing was, a thing important enough to make Zemo of all people shut the hell up and tell his enemies exactly where his safe house was, and he wasn’t going to rest until he did. The answer came easily enough in the end, but not before Sam and Bucky were forced face to face with the strangest thing they had ever seen, even when including aliens and wizards. That thing was Zemo buying flowers.

The trio had gotten out of the car somewhere around the center of the city and continued towards the safe house on foot. A few minutes after they started, though, Zemo had spoken.

“I apologize, but I’ll have to stop for a moment,” He said, holding up a hand to alert the two men trailing him to the fact that he was about to stop. Sam quirked up an eyebrow.

“At a flower shop?”

There, to the right of them, was a small fleuriste. The window was a burst of bright color. Pinks, reds, whites, purples; a certain bunch of spring blooms had caught Zemo’s eye. He shrugged. “It’s rude to arrive at someone’s house asking for a favor without a gift, Mr. Wilson. Excuse me,”

With a comfort that said he had been into the shop many times, Zemo walked through the door and began conversing with the shop owner in perfect French, even referring to her as tu instead of vous as he made his purchase.

“Did he just say someone’s house ?” Sam asked Bucky, eyes widening.

Bucky gritted his teeth. “Yeah, I think he did,”

“So, we’re just showing up at someone’s door,”

“Yup. Not to mention they’re someone who aligns themself with him,”

A groan escaped from Sam as he ran his hand down his face in disbelief. “I didn’t expect much from Zemo, but damn,”

“It’s your fault for expecting anything from Zemo in the first place,”

“For once, you’re right,”

They dawdled for a moment. As their conversation stilled, Zemo returned, now burdened by a sizable bouquet from the window. Around them, the city was starting to get off of work. Families walked together as businesses had their 5 o’clock shift change. Somehow as the world around them came to life it didn’t look at Sam and Bucky with anything more than a passing glance. They were tourists, nothing more. For a moment Sam understood why Zemo would go to a place like this for safety and anonymity.

Without ceremony, the trio began walking towards their destination once again.

“I apologize for the delay,” Zemo said, keeping his pace brisk and remaining about a foot ahead of his companions, “I suppose it’s become a bit of a habit that I buy Y/N flowers whenever I come back. We shouldn’t be long now, though, the house is just a few more blocks away, maybe 3 minutes by foot,”

“Y/N?” Bucky asked. The name felt heavy on his tongue, familiar. That had to be a coincidence though. Zemo would never align himself with anyone who had worked for Hydra, and there was no other place he could have heard that name and had it hold any significance. Right?

Zemo chuckled. “Y/N is our host. I’d appreciate it if you tried to maintain some semblance of respect when we arrive, she tends to have quite the temper and it would reflect badly on me if she believed I was asking her to indefinitely house two people who would happily send her to prison,”

“About that,” Sam chimed in, “Who the hell are we about to be staying with? It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I don’t, and by extension, I also don’t tend to trust people who trust you,”

“I assure you, Sam, Y/N is more trustworthy to you than I will ever be,”

“That doesn’t answer my question, nor does it make me feel any better,”

“She’s American, and like you, she is seeking shelter from the government. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“Man, at this point I feel like you’re not telling us because she’s actually some sort of crazy Sokovian sleeper agent who’s gonna stab us in the back while we sleep. Am I crazy, Buck, or am I right?”

Bucky, who had been trying his best to stay out of the conversation, replied. “You are being unnecessarily evasive, Zemo, though that’s nothing new…”

“Right? Like, I’m really grateful that you’re lending us a hand, but I’ve gotta be honest, if I think for a second things are going south-”

Sam never got to finish his sentence.

Suddenly, Zemo stopped short, turning around and looking Bucky in the eye with a madness neither he nor Sam had ever seen before. His whole body was stiff, rigid. The hand that wasn’t cradling the flowers delicately was gripped in a fist at his side. He looked angry, but underneath the anger, he really just looked scared. “You will not touch her. Do you hear me? Do what you’d like with me, I have made choices worthy of punishment, but you will not touch Y/N. If you so much as think of it, all bets are off. Do you understand me?”

Bucky nodded, sharp. This was certainly interesting. Sam just smirked.

“Is there something else you want to tell us?”

Zemo walked up a small set of stairs towards a home to their right. “No, Mr. Wilson, I don’t believe so,”

The building was a nice one, all tan stone with dark wrought-iron fixtures on its many windows. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like a normal midtown manor-house for some upper-class member of the community. The normalcy of it all hid its true purpose in plain sight. It was genius, really. Over a dividing wall made of the same yellowing stone, Sam could see a small sliver of vibrant green garden space and a pool at the side of the building.

With a steadying breath, Zemo knocked on the door.

“You have to knock on the door of your own safe house?” There was a hint of incredulity in Bucky’s voice as he crossed his arms. This was going to be a disaster. Why had they agreed to this again?

“A little etiquette goes a long way, James, especially when you’re already in the doghouse,” Then, the door opened.

Bucky froze. There, standing in the doorway with a pistol in her hand and a fire in her eyes, was a woman he thought long dead: you. This couldn’t be right! He had killed you back in ‘02 with the rest of the AAHR...

You quirked up an eyebrow at Zemo.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,”

They were so fucked.

________________

The day, on your end of the world, had gone by much slower.

It started off like any other, with the alarm on your bedside table blaring as you opened your eyes and your arms reached out into the emptiness in the sheets beside you. Sometimes, when Helmut’s flight got in late enough, you would wake up and reach to the side only to find that he had appeared beside you in the night. Those were the best kind of reunions. They were free of pretense, no bitterness or resentment clouded your sleep-heavy brain when you opened your eyes to his peaceful resting face, and you could simply fall into the comforting rhythm of husband and wife. If you reunited with a clear head things tended not to go as well.

You groaned. It wasn’t as if there was even a guarantee he would come back, especially not after the way you’d left things last time. The philosophy of attendre et espérer, waiting and hoping like an Edmond Dantés type, wouldn’t do you any good, at least not anymore.

Maybe it was time to start moving on…

Tomorrow. You could start thinking about the next steps tomorrow. For today you’d enjoy what you had.

Getting out of bed was difficult but you managed. The sun streamed through the curtains that billowed gently in the breeze near your balconette, brilliant gold beams illuminating the dust that danced in the air. The first thing you did was shuffle along to the corner and pour yourself two fingers of brandy from Helmut’s private collection. It was like a morning ritual these days, a numbing agent against the loneliness. Once the drink was downed you moved on to the closet to get dressed.

Dressing yourself wasn’t of much importance these days. You couldn’t exactly leave the house, and nobody was visiting, so more often than not, it was easier to just wear the same pajamas for a few days until you knew Oeznik would be around to drop off groceries. Today, though, you felt… filthy. Not dirty in a physical way, just sticky and filthy and unclean under your skin and in your very heart. Maybe a shower would help.

You looked around the closet with a clinical eye. It was difficult to be in there, surrounded by lavish dresses and expensive suits that you and your husband had worn arm in arm while plotting the downfall of the Avengers before your unsteady alliance had turned into so much more. Everything still smelled like his cologne. In the small, often-closed, walk-in closet, the scent had only intensified, covering every article of clothing with a fog of cedarwood and sage. It made you sick, choked the air from your lungs and left you gasping for even a single breath that didn’t sit heavy on your tongue with the bitter taste of that familiar musk.

The alcohol had helped. It always did. The remnants of its burn in your mouth formed a sort of guard against the scent of the closet as you searched through a pile of shirts for something soft and easy to wear. Your hands suddenly stilled.

“Zemo, I’m gonna be honest, this is the ugliest sweater I’ve ever seen in my entire life,”

“I’m hurt! That’s one of my favorites,”

“Where did you even get it, a 90-year-old grandpa’s closet? Jesus Christ, it looks like something out of a shitty 70’s flick about family values,”

“I’ll have you know that I thrifted that sweater. It’s very eco-conscious you know,”

Your heart hurt. Well, no, your whole body hurt, but your heart ached a little more prominently as you carefully picked up the sweater and held it to your chest. It was terribly ugly, 4 sizes too big even on Helmut and covered in an olive and forest green argyle. Somehow he was always able to pull off the oversized thing no matter how ridiculous you had always insisted you found it. When was the last time he’d worn it again?

The memory evaded you.

Still, it was a happy relic, happier than most of the monuments to a failing marriage that lined the shelves of your beautiful personal prison. It wouldn’t hurt to hope that by wearing it, you might rub just a little bit of that lost happiness off onto your present-day, right? With one last forlorn glance around the closet, you gathered up the sweater and a pair of jeans before getting out as fast as you could. With the scent of cologne clinging to you, the shower wasn’t just a good idea now, it was necessary.

So, you showered. You took the stupid foot-long exfoliating brush Helmut loved so much and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed yourself under the near-boiling stream of water until your skin was pink and raw. Disappointingly, even the new skin felt filthy. It was better, though, less intense. With some lotion and a little bit of Neosporin on the fresh patches of blotchy red, you were able to feel okay. Not good. Not clean. Just… okay. At least you didn’t smell like him anymore. The clock read 12:14 when you finally made it out of the bathroom in search of some real food.

Lunch, if you could call it that, was a silent affair. The fridge was almost empty and the pantry was only a little less bare, so you threw together a cheese sandwich, not even bothering to waste butter and grill it. You ate it plain with another glass of brandy out on the pool deck. It was gone sooner than you hoped it would be.

Oh well.

You finished your brandy with a sigh. Only seven or eight more hours until you could finish your day with a few more drinks and pass out in bed until nine or ten once again. Ah, dreamless sleep. That sounded divine. Now if only you could fathom any non-depressing way to spend the time between sleeping and waking. Swimming was out, the chemicals would burn your freshly eviscerated skin. Playing solitaire for the fourth day in a row sounded like absolute hell on earth. Even watercolors, a usual calming respite from the torturous and neverending monotony of life trapped alone in a house you had no help in stocking, were off the table ever since you’d run out of paper.

Somewhere inside the house, your phone dinged.

The second the sound hit your ears you jumped, dropping your glass and letting it shatter into a thousand tiny shards on the stone of the patio.

Phones were a difficult thing to own for someone who was trying to stay out of the eyes of the government. They were too easy to track and could tip off enemies to your location with very little error needed on your part. Even searching the internet for innocent things was too risky. If your search history was too similar to that of the alias you had used before Helmut went to prison, it would have been easy for them to find a connection and send someone to track you down. Still, you kept a cell phone charged and ready on the kitchen counter despite the risk for one reason and one reason only: Emergency contact with your husband.

He never texted from the same number on more than one occasion, always switching from burner phone to burner phone as he flew across the country doing god knows what, but if he was ever in a situation where emergency contact with you was needed, he was able to reach you at your number immediately. It had only happened a couple of times, and each time he had been in a considerable amount of danger. So, when you suddenly heard the sound you dreaded more than anything else in the world, you were quick to rush inside, even ignoring the shattered glass at your feet as you shoved through the doors and found the phone.

The small, LED display was lit up with the notification. It made your heart both soar and sink.

Flying home with two guests. Prepare the two rooms for their stay. We will be there by 5 at the latest - B

You read over the message several times before letting the phone fall from your hand and back onto the counter with a dull thud.

That absolute asshole.

Three months. Three months you had spent sitting alone. Three months without a call, or a text, or a letter, or even a word of when he was coming back by way of Oeznik. Three months! And after three months of loneliness and sleepless nights and empty bottles on the drink cart he reaches out through an emergency line of contact that almost certainly means he might be dying only to tell you he’s bringing two strangers into your safe house, the place even he refuses to stay in too long in order to not give its location away. The scar on your spine was starting to burn as you leaned up against the counter and cried.

It was ridiculous to think you had ever believed him capable of more tact than that.

Really, it was your fault. From the beginning, you’d had too much faith in a man incapable of being trustworthy, even to those closest to him. You knew that, and yet you had married him. Maybe the soft touches and sweet lies he had spoon-fed you had made you weak. Maybe you always had been.

“I’m not a child, Helmut, I know what I’m doing!”

“I don’t think you do,” he shouted. He was a few drinks in now, you both were. The nights before his departures never tended to end well when you both drank. “Because no matter what I do to protect you, you have the need to disobey me! Have you considered that I do the things I do for your own good!”

“Oh! Oh yes, the things YOU do!” You slammed your glass down on the table as you stormed over to Helmut, “I sit here all day like a fucking dog in a cage while you fly to fucking Ibiza and flirt with supermodels, but YOUR story is just so fucking tragic! I’m your wife, Helmut! I’m not an animal or your property, I’m your goddamn wife! You can’t just order me to sit and stay like a dog,”

He glared down at you, eyes hawkish and glinting in the low lamplight. For the first time in years, he looked threatening, “You may not be a dog, or a child, or my property, but you are a weapon! It’s my job to keep you here, away from the-”

“Excuse me?” You interrupted. The two of you stood, inches away and yet miles apart. Slowly, the drive in Helmut’s eyes faltered. “Say that again. I dare you,”

“Schatz, I-”

“No, Helmut, you meant it so say it again. Call me that again. I fucking dare you,” Tears were streaming down your face now. He took a step towards you, hand extended to wipe them away, but you were quick to take a step back out of his reach.

“You misunderstood me,”

“I don’t think there was anything to misunderstand,”

You swept the shards of your glass tumbler into a dustpan, hands still shaking even ten minutes after you’d read Helmut’s message to you. As you worked, your last conversation before he’d left echoed in your mind.

How had it all devolved into that? It wasn’t hard to remember Helmut before prison, jaded and broken and lonely. He had been so much like you and yet so different. Each of you seemed to be the perfect balm for the others' wounds. In the end, despite all of his flaws, you had found yourself in love. Now that he was a different man, was that love gone? You couldn’t say. All you knew for sure was that you weren’t nearly drunk enough to be facing the confusing feelings in your brain. With the last of your energy, you emptied the dustpan of glass into the trash can and returned to the house, sweater itchy against your irritated skin, to ready the guest rooms.

The job wasn’t a long one. You had never used the guest rooms in all the time you’d spent at the Avignon property, so the sheets were already clean. There was just a thin layer of dust on the furniture that needed to be swept away as you checked to make sure the dressers were bare and the bathrooms were stocked with amenities. Then, when that was done, you were left to your thoughts as the hours ticked by.

Most of the time you spent sitting on the couch doing absolutely nothing. It sounded terrible, and in all honesty it was, but what else could you do? The house was already spotless so cleaning wasn’t an option, and you didn’t quite feel like doing much of anything as you stared at the clock and tried to remember a time when your life was less of a disaster. As it got closer to five, though, you started to get antsy.

You had tried your best to not think about the obvious issue of the guests. Zemo was not the type to threaten his home, even if he wasn’t happy with you, so usually having anyone who wasn’t Oeznik or another paid lackey aware of the location of your safe house would be a big no in his book, but then you started thinking of the implications of him bringing people into your home. Your home, not his. Was he on his way to kill you? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Or maybe he was bringing your replacement.

Now that thought made anger bubble up in your throat. You were no stranger to the idea that when your husband was away, he could be doing anything. There was no guarantee when he slept in lavish hotels or drank the night away in elite lounges that he kept his wedding ring on. The fact that there were two guests meant it was unlikely he was bringing two mistresses, but never impossible. Nothing was impossible when it came to Helmut.

No, it was more likely he had finally decided it was time to end your suffering. The shouts and boisterous laughter that started to sound directly outside of the front room window only confirmed the for you. Slowly, you crept towards the door and grabbed a small pistol from its place in the umbrella stand. If he wanted you dead you weren’t going to go without a fight.

Through the curtains on the front door, you could just barely make out the trio. When you saw them your blood ran cold. It was one thing if he needed help to take you down, but getting the Winter Soldier on board? Your rage only grew by the minute.

Helmut said something, probably planning the best course of action to catch you off guard, and you sneered. Two could play at that game. When he knocked on the door you opened it calmly and held the gun with your finger just barely ghosting over the trigger.

Everyone froze.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,” you said, rage coursing through every nerve in your body. You may have been in retirement for quite a few years, but you still knew how to handle a gun. Everyone there, except maybe the Falcon, knew that. As Zemo went to open his mouth, you prepared for a firefight.

“Because I brought you flowers,”

-------------

a/n: Sorry that only one chapter is out! The fic is just getting very long and complicated and I wanted to make sure you got as much as possible before the next episode drops lol. I’ll be working pretty much nonstop from now until then, though, so the next parts should be out soon!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater​ , @elaineygrace​, @multiyfandomgirl40​ ,  @lovelymischief​ , @rami-malek-trash​ , @dazzlingseb​, @avgravy​ , @sarahsilver , @wh0re-4-techno​ , @forcebros​ , @sugarsweetkiss​ , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff​ , @killsandthrills​ , @novasstudy​ , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp​ , @inmate-marmalade​, @alanathedeer​ , @mossybank​ , @simsiddy​ , @xxspqcebunsxx​ 

Please do not post my work on other sites, thank you!

[snow-in-the-desert]

Dramione Recommendations

Ok so, 2020 has been A LOT but on a personal note one of the most surprising things to happen was me discovering Dramione fanfiction and becoming unashamedly obsessed with it. I really didn’t see that coming but I’m here now and I’m here to stay. 

I think I started reading in the Dramione fandom around mid July last year?? (In all honesty I’ve lost any true sense of time’s progression at this point so I could be well off the mark with that) And I’ve decided to compile a list of all my favourite fics I’ve read so far. Why? I really just want to gush over all the amazing writers I have found through this fandom because y’all deserve it. 

Side note: If any of the authors actually sees this post just dm so I can buy you coffee or post you writing supplies or something idk I feel like that’s the least I can do for all your amazing work x

Remain Nameless by @heyjude19-writing

Ok I have to start with RN because this fic is pretty much the sole reason I decided to create an account with A03 or a tumblr or just decided to get involved with this fandom at all. 

I headcannon this story hard. But I think even if you aren’t a fan of Dramione you should just read this because it is so unbelievably good and well written and poignant and Draco’s sarcastic personality in this is truly a thing of beauty in this - I relate to his inner monologue’s on a deep personal level. 

I could rave about this story any time, any day of the week, just ask me. In fact, maybe I’ll just start a HeyJude19 fan club to fulfill that urge.

There are so many elements that I love but for the sake of brevity, RN is a beautifully told story of Draco and Hermione finding love and healing in a post-war HP setting. Heyjude19 had the very special ability of making me want to simulatenously laugh, cry and swoon with the power of her words. Just stop what you are doing and go read it now if you havent already, ok?  

I also really enjoyed reading Bells on a Hill, Beers, Potions and Unwise Notions and A Shift in Focus, if you are looking for smaller fics, definitely give these a go. They are all funny and heartfelt stoires that will make your tippy toes wriggle with glee. 

The Rights and Wrongs Series by @lovesbitca8

The Right Thing To Do, All The Wrong Things and The Auction are the holy trinity of Dramione writing. I have christened it thus, so mote it be. And frankly I’m not interested in any other opinion than that one, thank you very much!

After reading this series I don’t think I’ll be able to look back on the orginal HP books without thinking of Hermione’s and Draco’s memories of their time at Hogwarts in these fics as anything other than strictly cannon. 

So many things to love about this series but I think one of the major highlights was Hermione and Draco’s use of occlumency. LoveBitca8 created such beautiful visuals with how occlumency works as a magical practice and seeing Draco and Hermione so devoted to eachother to the point of safeguarding their inner most feelings to protect eachother was unbelievably romantic and poetic. 

Also the smut is divine ;)

Manacled by @senlinyu​

My heart will never be the same after reading this story. Like I actually can’t think about this fic without getting a lump at the back of my throat. I have never felt so emotionally ruined after reading anything, compared to the likes of this fic. Just please, please read it. To badly quote HP, reading Manacled will make you suffer but you’re going to be happy about it.

The flashbacks are a rollercoaster in of themselves but the way Hermione inadvertently refers to them when she is still in a state of memory loss was so heartbreaking to read. My heart still aches for them both. Also its a truly satisfying to see Draco and Hermione written in a way were they are both so fiercly protective of one another. They make my insides go soft. 

I also really enjoyed Snow Fall, Now Is A Gift and All You Want by the author but to be honest anything written by Senlinyu is always thoroughly enjoyable and worth a look. 

The Erised Effect by @adaprix​

Ada is QUEEN of dramione smut but ‘The Erised Effect’ is top tier. Its equal parts funny, romantic, sentimental and oh so sexy. Ada really knows how to build and build on sexual tension and doesn’t disappoint on the final delivery. I’m a big admirer of her writing style and just veraciously read whatever she posts but ‘The Erised Effect’ is just golden. A must read. (Also Pansy’s sexual fantasy in this story is a visual I don’t think I’ll ever be able to remove from my brain so thanks for that Ada)

Also quick side note: Adaprix’ stories were the first I read when I was looking into this fandom and it was enough to get me hooked on the pairing from the get go so I have that to thank Ada for too. I remember devouring all the stories she had posted to A03 and when I was done I was like... now what am I supposed to do with my life?? And that’s basically when I began to look deeper into the fandom and thus the course of my life in 2020 changed for the better. 

Some other stories I love by her are Break for Me, All My Sins, The Big 4-0, The Fucklust Series and The Flat in Bath. 

Clean by @olivieblake​

This 6th Year AU where Draco and Hermione work together on a class assignment and end up falling in love had me feeling all kinds of ways when I read it. I almost don’t know where to start but I think one of the stand out things for me was how immersed I felt in reading it. 

Hogwarts is captured really well, you get a good sense of class atmospheres, character nuances and behind the scenes of events that happen in HBP but from a Draco and Hermione’s perspectives. It’s well executed and intricate tapestry of a fic. With an excellent plot twist ending! 

Also Hermione and Draco’s relationship in this is equal parts fluffy and smutty and it just ticks all the right boxes that you want to see for those characters ;)

Breath Mints / Battle Scars by @onyx-and-elm​

The angst in this one is just *chef’s kiss*

God I love this fic. The way Draco is portrayed is very true to his defensive and tetchy character in the original books but he is also given so much more depth. The way his diary entries are written are just so well executed. It’s a true testament to the author’s creative writing skill. And I LOVE how even though Draco is clearly in such a messed up place, he still has a basic level of self respect and dignity that he won’t tolerate being used or undervalued in his relationship with Hermione. 

Yep, I really love Draco’s characterisation in this one if you can’t tell.  But Hermione is also well written too. Her stuggles and trauma of returning to Hogwarts after war is described in a believable and grounded way. And my heart definitely ached for them both. I just wanted to wrap the pair of them in a big fuzzy blanket and tell them that everything will be alright. 

WANDS OUT! by @persephonestone​

This murder mystery / Dramione / Theo x Harry / AU crossover is everything I didn’t know I wanted until I read it. I felt like I was picked up and plonked right into an alternative dimension where all the characters of HP are just living it up in an Agatha Christie novel. 

It’s a funny and clever story that I found refreshing to read amongst all the other fanfics that are usually cemented in the HP timeline or universe. Theodore Nott in this fic is perfection he should be written like this in every fic from now on in my opinion. I couldn’t stop giggling any time he had a scene in the story.

And the ‘only one bed’ trope in this fic is 10/10. I don’t want to give spoilers but ohmygod. It hits all the right notes. 

The One With Technical Difficulties by cassielassie 

Cassielassie has an excellent three part series of Dramone called ‘The One with...” but I have to give special credit to this story in particular for one main reason. ELEVATOR TROPES. I can’t get enough of em. I think I have my early childhood viewings of NCIS to thank for my obsession with elevator tropes they just do something to me that simply cannot be explained with mere words. The palpable sexual tension of being in a broken down elevator with an ‘enemies to lovers’ pairing, a heated arguement breaks out followed by a discovery of mutual feelings and a romantic embrace...

Eugh. It gets me everytime. And this fic is no exception. I loved it for all the reasons I’ve already stated above but also for the attention to detail in Draco and Hermione’s careers makes this one particularly immersive. The dynamics between them established in this one-shot are convincingly portrayed and the chemistry between them is so undeniably hot. 

The Light is No Mystery by @masterofinfinities​

Yooo if you want to read a dramione fic that is a deep dive into Pureblood culture and Post-War recovery but is also a perfect allegory for discrimination and today’s political landscape of moral grandstanding for votes then look no further than this one. 

This story has a bit of everything. Intrigue, mystery, ptsd and recovery, enemies to lovers / secret relationship, government conspiracy and humour, to name a few. I eargerly await every update to this story and am anxious to know how it ends!

The Eagle’s Nest by HeartOfAspen 

Finally! A fic that gives me the Ravenclaw representation I crave. I think I could recommend this fic on the lore depicted of Ravenclaw house alone. ‘The Stacks’ and Rowena Ravenclaw’s own ‘come and go room’ are just such cool details that I could see being real in the HP universe. 

This fic is so cosy and makes me feel like I’m just popping back into Hogwarts for another year. You get to see all the usuals like prof. Mcgongall, Nearly headless Nick, PEEVES, Hagrid, as well as learn more about minor characters from the other school houses. The story follows Hermione going to her day to day classes and there are interesting concepts about magic and alchemy that are explored. 

Draco and Hermione’s relationship in this one is of course very fluffy and heartfelt. But it’s the attention to detail that really makes this fic outstanding and the experience of reading it feels fleshed out and true to HP universe.

A shorter fic by HeartofAspen that I recommend is one called Set in Stone, it has an adventurous, Indianna Jones vibe to it, that I am so down for. 

Teachable Moments by @purplesugarquills

In this fic Hermione is an innocent little virgin determined to learn everything about sex. And Draco Malfoy is her tutor. If that isn’t enough to get you on board then I don’t know what is. Both Heartfelt and Steamy. PurpleSugarQuills writes smut so well but it’s the progression of their growing attachment and the nervous treading of new uncharted waters of romantic relationships for both of them that just adds a whole other level of feels to the story. Also chapter 9 is like reading poetry - its so good. Eugh just give it a read if you haven’t already.

Les Pèlerins by @pacific-rimbaud

This story is high art. It’s transcendent. Reading this story feels like the emotional equivalent of standing around a hundred glowing fairy lights, sipping hot cocoa and being wrapped in the loving embrace of a s/o. I can’t speak my praises highly enough or even become passably coherent in my words when I try to articulate a review. 

From the very first paragraph I felt like I was just whisked away on a Parisian holiday and I’ve never even bloody been to Paris but damn it if this story didn’t make me feel like I was there. The writing style is just so tactile and intense it’s like I could feel the cold winter air brush against me as I read it. Eugh I just completely fell in love with the story and the writer. 

New Year’s resolution. Read everything PacificRimbaud has ever posted online.