#and now he shows up to her house drunk on the staircase

[mariespen]

Birthday Reunion ¡! ❞

bf!rafe cameron x daddy issues!reader ¡! ❞ warnings: swearing, drinking, implied drinking problems, implied body shaming, mentions of anxiety, degrading comments summary: “What did I do to deserve you..”

based on this request!

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Your light pink heels tapped down the long staircase of Tannyhill, the curved architecture giving you the perfect princess moment. The only difference was that instead of a ballroom of people at the bottom, it was simply your boyfriend, Rafe Cameron. It didn’t matter, though. People would have thought you were real royalty just by the way his jaw hung when he saw you in the pretty dress he picked out just for your birthday present. It swished around your thighs, bringing his favorite parts of your body to focus… maybe too far into focus.

Your soft giggle broke him out of his star-struck trance. You couldn’t help it, he looked so cute in his formalwear for your birthday dinner. Just as your heels touched down on the ground, Rafe swept you up into his loving embrace.

“Looking fuckin’ amazing, hm?” He said with a grin, love coating his gaze as he looked down at you. All you could do was giggle. 

You poor thing, he always left you speechless.

Rafe’s face softened. Any form of laughter that left your sweet, glossy lips was music to his ears. You kept him close to him for a while and he let you, of course. Tonight was supposed to be fun, a care-free date between you and Rafe. However, it was your mother’s genius idea to bring the family together and celebrate your special day, all together. A family reunion on your birthday.. why did Rafe let you agree to this?

“Gotta cover up..” He muttered, busying himself with your cardigan and handing you one of his bigger zip-ups.

“Thank you..” You said gently, letting him help you drape it over your shoulders to keep you warm.

“Mhm.. you ready princess?” Rafe asked cautiously, still prepared to call you in sick from this whole thing.

“Yeah..” You said, a small frown on your face as you wrapped yourself closer into his sweater.

“Okay, let’s go, yeah?” He said, obviously disappointed that you were so insistent on this, somehow still supporting you.

Rafe knew how these things played out. He could predict it now, keeping you close as the two of you tried to socialize awkwardly with your family and then eventually your father showed up. Usually it was late, most of the time he was already a little drunk, and there was a 100% chance that he was not going to leave the reunion sober by any means. That’s the basic routine besides the fact that in-between downing every drink on the table, your precious daddy would degrade you until you ended up right back in Rafe’s arms.

Right back where you’ve always belonged.

The car ride was silent besides your girlie music and the soft sound of Rafe’s hand occasionally brushing against your dress when he rubbed your thigh comfortingly.

You had a tendency to react poorly in anxious situations, he knew this for a fact. Rafe planned on keeping you very very close tonight.

Pulling up the prolonged driveway of your mother’s expensive house on figure 8 made you want to throw up. She moved from your old house into this atrocity of a mansion, so at least there weren't any prominent reminders of your lonely childhood. It comforted you enough to take Rafe’s hand and let yourself out of the car. 

The two of you winced as you walked up to the door. Neither of you really wanted to be there all that much, Rafe arguably hated it even more than you (which was impressive).

He reached over your head to knock on the door. Five hard knocks that echoed through the soft music playing within the house. Your eyes darted around the cars, thankful to not see your father there yet. Maybe he forgot, he could be so drunk off his ass that he forgot about you.

For the better, probably.

Your mom eagerly opened the door, instantly wrapping both you and Rafe in a tipsy yet somehow still loving hug. Rafe greeted her with a hesitant smile as you slowly worked up the motivation to plaster on your own faux smile for the rest of the night.

Then began the awkward greetings. Your aunt and uncle instantly greeted you, your aunt marvling at Rafe for maybe a second too long. He smiled kindly at them. Rafe had always been better at putting on a nice show. You were thrown around the room, embraced in many of your family’s drunken arms and sluggish greetings. Somehow, even through all of the commotion, Rafe’s gentle hand remained on your back.

Hours passed and you felt a gasp of relief leave you as you realized the reunion was nearly over and your father had yet to make a show. You stood near the front door with Rafe over your shoulder, giddy to leave the moment that the clock struck 9pm. 

You felt his hand come down to your waist and clutch you closer to him, causing you to flinch slightly in surprise. Your heart stopped, realizing quickly why his grip was so prominent on your side. 

Dragging himself into the house through the long, arched doorway was no one but your own father. His drunken gaze skimmed over the crowd before instantly dropping on you. One quick and judgmental up and down look comprised his purpose; to make your life hell.

His suit was too tight on his body as he breathed sharply and made his way over to both you and Rafe. You avoided Rafe’s gaze entirely, not wanting to witness the narrow stare of his eyes.

“Dad!” You said softly, beginning to pull away from Rafe until he pulled you right back to him. Your fake smile must have been obvious because all you got from your father was a scoff and a judgmental glance before he stumbled into the party.

Rafe was already urging you out of the door by the time your mother came to tell you that it was time for cake, “your favorite!” She said with a squeal, motioning to a chocolate ice cream cake. 

Which wasn’t your favorite, but you’ve learned not to care. 

You got ushered to the large dining room, Rafe shuffling behind you and looking ready to kill anyone who took one step too close to your shaking body. All of your family surrounded the table, leaving barely enough room for you to fit in next to your fast-melting cake

A short and unorganized rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ was sung by the slurred voices of your family as you stood quietly, shyly smiling and feeling Rafe’s comforting hand holding yours. More cake was brought out to provide for all of the guests as your mother happily laughed with drunken joy.

Your piece was brought to you, a smaller slice than most. As you leaned down to grab your fork, you felt the plate leave your weak grip. Standing up in an instant, you were ready to pout at Rafe and tell him to get his own slice. However, you were met by your father’s mean and unforgiving stare.

“You don’t need… this.” He said plainly, obviously scanning your outfit and figure.

Tears swarmed your eyes as he spat more at you. Over time you had learned to tune him out, but you hadn’t heard his words for months now, nearly a year. 

“It’s disgusting that you walk into your mother’s house looking like a slut.” He said with a scoff, either unaware of the tears dripping down your face or choosing to ignore them (it was the latter).

“Thank god you have a boyfriend, hopefully he keeps you in your place.” Your father sneered as you vaguely watched Rafe push through the crowd to get back to you after he was pushed away in the cake swarm.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Your stare was blank when Rafe finally got to you, shoving your father away without hesitation and taking your purse from your slouching arm as he pulled you away from everyone. Rafe’s grip on your body was persistent as he took you through the house, through the front door, and eventually through his car door. You were still trying to tune out everything that had happened, proving to be non-responsive when Rafe begged you to answer his questions.

��C’mon princess, tell me what he said.” Rafe said through gritted teeth as one hand gripped his steering wheel with white knuckles and the other softly brushed over your palm.

The world was silent, your eyes deep and dull and you stared down at your pink heels when Rafe took you into Tannyhill.

“Hey, baby.. talk to me.” Rafe said gently, his thumbs already flicking away your tears as the two of you sat on the luxurious couch. His pleading voice eventually got back into your head and you nodded softly.

“Oh sweetheart..” Rafe whispered, starting to say something else before you let yourself fall back into him and bury yourself into his warm body. You hid away from the spiraling world as he whispered into your ear.

“I got you, princess. I’m here.” “Want you to only listen to my voice, don’t let him stay in your head.”

“I love you, sweetheart.” His lips peppered two soft kisses against both of your rosy, swollen cheeks before more tears poured out of your eyes. You were slowly coming back to yourself and Rafe couldn’t fully tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

Your body came to you in small tremors, your poor shoulders shaking as your sweet and honey-like voice rasped over with deep sobs. Rafe held you close, whispering gently into your ear for a while, eventually feeling you relax into his arms.

“I’m sorry I… I just-“ You started, trying to apologize for your sudden outburst.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Focus on me.” Rafe said, kissing you softly and smiling as he felt your sticky lip gloss smear against his lips.

You smiled back, suddenly focused on the way he looked down at you, opening his mouth to tell you more.

“Aw look at that..” He said, kissing your smile and grinning into the gentle contact before pulling away.

“What did I do to deserve you..” He whispered with adoration in his eyes as he scooped you right back up and held you to his chest.

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[theealbatross]

kiss me (s.s.)

Plot | You fought, kissed, and made up. But it could never be that easy.

or, Sebastian took two steps forward and three steps back.

Tags | insecurities, social pressures, obsessive tendencies, slytherin!reader, dark!seb and reader if you squint, but not really, underage drinking (theyre all 16-18 in this), they're just crazy about each other and can't tell anyone, kissing (duh) nothing too PG, happy ending?, read 4k words and figure it out, if the end made you scream say 'aye'

[ 6th Year ]

“Spin that fucking bottle!”

If you had known what absolute monstrosity you would create when you introduced muggle sleepover games to your housemates you would’ve gone to bed early.

But now, you were surrounded by drunk, nosy, Slytherins that were dead-set on exposing each other’s most embarrassing secrets. No one was safe.

“Imelda!” Everyone cheered, Grace quickly hooked her arms around the other girl’s neck when she tried to escape.

The party had long since been over, most of the students from other houses had already retired to their own rooms but those who had friends in Slytherin (like Poppy and Natty) or were too drunk to journey back to the spiraling staircases of their houses safely (like Everett and Samantha) decided to sober up for a while in the Quidditch Grand Champion’s common room.

“Are you actually as mean as you pretend to be or do you just not know how to make friends,” Natty slurred, pointing and wagging a finger at her.

If she was in a better constitution, she would’ve been able to brush off that accusation easily and with confidence but a dozen of improved (thanks Garreth) Firewhiskey shots later and the ever-guarded Imelda flushed in embarrassment to the surprise of everyone. The small circle burst out laughing, Imelda pushed Grace away in annoyance.

“It’s okay, ‘melda. We love you as you are!” Poppy was definitely still hammered.

“Next, next, next!”

The bottle spun and spun but your eyes were at the boy who had just returned from tucking Ominis in their shared dorm. You smiled up at him as he sat in the reserved space available just for him right beside you. “Omi?” you mouthed.

He squeezed your hands, silently letting you know your lightweight friend was now safely tucked in his own bed and ready to welcome the worst hangover he had ever known tomorrow.

“Well, well, well! Our brilliant, beloved, beater!”

It was when you turned your eyes back down on the ground that you saw that the mouth of the bottle was now undoubtedly pointed at Sebastian.

“Mate, I just got here!”

The crowd booed, Sebastian receiving light punches and playful jeers. “It’s the rules, Sallow!”

Everyone looked at you expectantly, the false inventor of such guidelines. You smirked, shrugging, “Rules are rules.”

Sebastian gaped at the betrayal. He gave you a look that lets you know he’ll get you back for this, even secretly poking your waist sharply. You didn’t like the way your housemate’s eyes glinted at the small interaction. Oh no.

“Alright, Alright,” Garreth shushed the crowd with two outstretched hands. “I have the million galleon question! I’m sure everyone will praise my genius for it!”

“Get on with it already!”

The Gryffindor threw a drunken glare at the voice from the back of the common room. “Now, I’m sure our dear Sebastian, despite receiving many letters of admiration and flutters of pretty lashes –”

“Gross,” Imelda grumbled.

“—has yet to officially court someone!” Garreth announced, arms stretched wide like he was a ringmaster about to start his greatest show. Everyone oo-ed and ahh-ed and cheered.

You didn’t like where this was going.

Sebastian, for all the eyes that were on him, managed to maintain the small smile on his cocky face.

It was true. You were not blind to the … physical developments he had undergone the last two years nor to the attention it had garnered him. The boy you had sneaked around Hogwarts with in your fifth year had disappeared and was replaced by a man. An unfairly tall, tanned, attractive man. You damn near walked past him again if he had not pulled you to his side on your first day during your 6th year.

You weren’t ignorant of it, nor were you dumb enough to deny your attraction to your friend.

But you are a lady. And his friend.

His most trusted, beloved friend (his words not yours).

You’d rather not risk your lifelong connection if he won’t. You know how to read between the lines as blurry as it had become. He’s lost too much and you refuse to become another scar in his soul. The both of you have had enough of that to last you till the next lifetime.

“So, my question is,” your eyes widened when you felt two hands on each of your shoulders, in your deep reverie you have failed to notice Garreth sneaking behind your back or that all conniving eyes and raised eyebrows were now on you.

Sebastian smiled.

“Kiss, Marry, Kill.”

[ 7th Year ]

It was by incredible luck that your 7th year of Hogwarts called for the Triwizard tournaments to be held in Hogwarts.

You were prepared to enjoy the event in relative peace. Happy that for once you would be the spectator of all the action instead of being the one in the middle of it.

Life just can’t make it that easy for you.

You did not even realize that Sebastian of all people had thrown his name in as consideration until he had been called and your dreams of a quiet last year in Hogwarts were shot to the depths of hell. It was the first time in a while that you felt true fear, the type that froze all your blood solid.

The fight that followed in the Undercroft was explosive.

“How could you be so reckless, Sebastian?! People die in these games! Why would you do this?!”

Just the thought of it makes your stomach sink. Sebastian will be front and center of this bloody battle of pride that is broadcasted to the entire wizarding world. It was different when it was the two of you jumping through all types of danger – this time you won’t be able to help him. He will be alone.

Yet, when you had expected a valid explanation and a plan out of all this madness he instead looked at you with such anger and vitriol that you physically flinched.

“Because I am sick of being just your friend!” Even Ominis pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning on. Foreseeing a tragedy about to uncontrollably unroll. “I’m constantly surrounded by you two! Ominis Gaunt, the scion of the purest bloodline in the wizarding world, the Heir of Slytherin who could do no wrong! How brilliant!”

He cackled a laugh, he looked like a man at the brink of insanity. How long had he been holding on to these thoughts?

“And you!”

“Sebastian enough –” Ominis tried to cut through his mania but he wasn’t having any of it. Once the words were out, there was no taking them back in. He was cursed – he will have to see it through.

“Famed Hero of Hogwarts,” each word was dripped in poison, the insecurities bubbling inside him caused him to lash out at anyone and everyone who dared question his decision. How could they understand? How would they understand a nobody? “Do you know how tired I am of being in your shadow?”

He felt the sting before he heard it, the slap drowned the Undercroft in silence. Then, the weight of his grave words sunk in. The green haze in his head cleared just to see the boiling tears falling down your distraught face.

What has he –

“Then let me free you of such shadow, Sebastian,” your face crumpled, physically pained by such cruelty from your dearest companion. “You’re on your own this time.”

That had been months ago, aside from the few classes you had together he had not even seen you anywhere else. Not even in the first game when he had sent you an owl begging you for a chance to apologize and dedicating his win to you. The victory over the other contestants tasted bitter when he couldn’t find your face in the celebrating crowd.

And the pit in his chest turned into a black hole when he caught Ominis at the edge of the celebration shaking his head. She didn’t come. He’s lost her.

Ominis refused to help him – not that he deserved any. In retrospect, it was ... silly – the insecurities he had been shamefully hiding. He knew his friends had never seen him short of an equal but it’s difficult to see the good when the entire world is looking down at you with cruel, disapproving eyes when your back is turned. Cruel whispers they made sure only he could hear.

“I thought he’d live somewhere more posh.” “Sallow? Dating her? That’s preposterous he’s an orphan with barely a galleon to his name.” “Why do you think they keep him around?”

It was stupid and irrational and he handled it in the worst possible way. Lashed out at the one person who least deserved it, who went through hell to drag him back out, then benevolently tended to all the wounds and scars in his humanity till he was himself again.

“Let me free you of such shadow, Sebastian.”

He slammed his head on the wall he was leaning on, the heartbreaking image of her distressed face was a nightmare that had chased him awake or asleep.  Sebastian may deserve this but you most definitely didn’t. He never deserved you.

Yet, here he was, sitting on the floor of the Ravenclaw Tower with a wilted bouquet of wildflowers he had picked before breakfast, hoping he could catch her somehow. He ignored the giggles, snickers, and confused questions thrown his way no matter how embarrassed he felt. He wasn’t moving from this spot until he can apologize – the silent treatment was torture worse than Crucio. And he had been hit with one.

At the first sound of the walls transforming, he was already up on his feet, his hands instinctively brushing his hair as if looking presentable would even out his chances of repairing his most treasured friendship.

The door opened and finally, your eyes met his. The tension was something that would choke even the greediest puffskein. Your eyes were wide, unblinking and your lips were pursed in a fine line that communicated how much you loathed being in his presence. He hopes you know that you could never hate him as much as he hated himself at this very moment.

“For you!” It was only when it was being offered to you did he realize how abysmal the dying bouquet he had been carrying in his hands since this morning looked. But it was too late now, she was already here, looking at the flower then back to him and all the lines he had practiced flew out of his head.

Instead, he just fell to his knees, prostrating, tears already threatening to fall down his face. He had never been an honorable man. “Sebastian! Get up!”

“I will do anything you ask me to,” The feel of her touch made his skin tingle. After months of not even catching your eyes or hearing your voice and it was more than worth it to suffer through all this humiliation just for this moment. Even if you may never forgive him at least he could apologize. He’ll have a better last moment with you than your fight. “I’ll win the games. I’ll quit. I’ll drop out of Hogwarts if that’s what you want just, please … forgive me.”

He felt your arms wrap around him but he was too distraught, barely comprehending that you had somehow pulled him back into the room until the two of you fell on the ground and the door of the room slammed shut. Still, he continued sobbing in your arms, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he drenched your neck with his anguished tears. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Sebastian wasn’t playing fair but your forgiveness was a prize he was willing to cheat to earn. There would be no point of honor if he lost you – anyone else but you.

“It wasn’t anything you did. It was me,” he sobbed. “I just – you and Ominis became such incredible people that I realized it was me who had not become anyone. I am a nobody!”

“Sebastian that is just not true –”

“It’s moronic I know! But I just thought … if I could win these games … if I could stop being just myself and be a champion then I can finally earn the spot beside you.”

It was embarrassing to admit all that, the deep insecurities that had festered inside of him the moment he was finally faced with the reality of the world. That he was surround by great people who has and will achieve great things and he was … him. A failure, a murderer, a burden.

“Don’t make me slap you again,” your cold voice woke him up from his self-lashings.

He sniffed, nodding, finally finding the strength and shame to sit up on his knees in front of you. “I … I really am so sorry.”

He pinched his eyes shut, preparing himself for the worst. His nails digging in his palm in an effort to stop it from shaking. However, it took one touch of your palms to break through all his pretenses. “I forgive you.”

He crumbled in relief, jumping into your open arms in a mess of tears, snot, and even more apologies.

“I know, I know,” you shushed him, hands tight even as he soaked your shirt through. “Ominis talked to me and … Sebastian you really are so silly. What do you mean you're a nobody? You're the top student in our year! So much so that all those Ravenclaws have declared you their enemy. You're the greatest beater in our generation that even I have been receiving owls begging me to somehow convince you to play for their team when you graduate! I can't even imagine how many times I would have gotten in trouble or straight-up died if it wasn't for you! I swear you're so fucking daft sometimes!”

He nodded eagerly, taking any jabs you may have if it meant you were talking to him. Even if it was still difficult for him to accept that any of those achievements you dictated could ever surmount to what you had achieved he knew it wasn't smart to try and correct it now when you had just forgiven his transgressions. “Stupid, stupid, boy.”

It was there in that room that your fractured friendship was mended with a bunch of dead flowers and Sebastian’s tears.

To celebrate, you had produced a couple of leftover Hogshead Brew for the two of you to enjoy till you were tipsy enough to forget the past horrible months without each other and were now giggling to each other’s face as if to make up for all the laughs you were owed in the months of silence.

“Lay back down, your eyes are going to be swollen shut.”

He’s been crying so hard for so long that he was too tired to do anything but follow your words, laying at the center of the bed you’ve conjured and sighing at the warm cloth you pressed on his eyes that miraculously stopped the world from spinning.

If he thinks too hard about the shameful faces he had shown you, he fears he’s going to combust, instead he focused on the rake of your nails on his hair, the familiar scent of your perfume he had given to you as a gift for your birthday last year, and the weight of your head as you laid on his stomach while the alcohol coursed through his body.

“You shouldn’t quit.”

He folded the cloth in one eye to take a peek at you. You giggled sweetly, clearly taking the drink harder than him, and gods above did he miss it. His happiness was cut short however when you crawled over the length of his body and instead plopped next to him, your head resting on his outstretched arm.

Physical affection wasn’t new to the two of you – after what you had been through hugs and holding hands were something the two of you found comfort in, a reminder that despite everything, the two of you made it out together – but after a few months without it he was faced with the realization of how unconventionally intimate your friendship truly was.

“Like I said, Ominis explained to me how you’ve been feeling – only another man would ever understand a bruised man’s ego. And if this is what’s going to make you feel better then I will support you till the end.” He turned his head so he can look at your eyes. When you cupped his face he felt his gut curl on itself from adoration. “But make no mistake Sebastian, the two of us have always been equals. We’re kindred spirits, remember?”

Kindred spirits, he thought. He remembers the first time he called the two of you that -- something a little cheeky for the first witch who didn't sneer in disgust at the prospects of his less than favorable past time. The curiosity in your eyes then was one he had seen in his own, even then he had this funny feeling that you were going to get along very well.

If he only knew how right he was, he would've thought he was a prodigy in divination.

A tear once again pebbled at the memory but just as he closed his eyes ready to wipe it away you were already sitting up, throwing the wet cloth and pressing a kiss on the edge of it. Sebastian sucked in a breath, blinking to see you hovering over him now. He’s never seen you this zealous. The passion in your eyes is almost mirroring his own.

It would seem whatever was in that brew had smashed through your inhibitions and his pride as he let you continue peppering kisses all over his face.

“You are very precious to me,” she whispered fondly, her gaze soft, drunk and adoring then it turned dark, an emotion crossed your face that he’d only seen when you had been fighting the meanest of foes. “I’d blow this entire school up before I let any of them think they could take your place in my life.”

Sebastian shuddered, his entire body burning under your gaze.

Leaning over again, you pressed another kiss on his other eyelid. “I won’t allow anyone to take you away from me.”

On his forehead. “And you are not allowed to leave me. I forbid it, Sebastian.”

As pathetic as it was, the words were everything he needed to hear. The possession healing over all his insecurities like a balm.

He has always been a selfish lad. His parents and everything he had ever known were ripped away from him at too early of an age that it made him realize that he needed to protect Anne because she was all he had but even that exploded spectacularly into a tragedy.

And then he met you and finally, finally, he met his person. Someone who was seemingly made just for him. Someone who understood him for all his secrets and flaws and still called him a friend.

However, it would seem that he was cursed of a cruel fate. Because the one person who was supposed to be just his turned out to be the most sought-after witch of their generation with the type of magic that had not been seen in centuries. At first, it didn’t matter, he was confident of his place in your life. But as the two of you grew up, the reality that your position in society were skies apart was when his insecurities began to painfully blossom.

But this … it was nice to be claimed like this. To be able to hear and see the crazed obsession he had only seen in his own reflection be mirrored by the one person he needed it from the most. The whole world can laugh behind his back, it didn’t matter anymore. The most brilliant witch in history is in this bed with him, kissing all his insecurities away and branding him as hers.

He chuckled but was cut short when you pressed a softer kiss just by the edge of his smile. His heart threatened to pound out of his chest, his ears failing to hear anything else but the next words out of your mouth. “Do you understand me, Sebastian?”

It has never been clearer: she is his.

“You are mine.”

With her final words, Sebastian’s brain seems to finally function again. A surge of alcohol and courage caused him to raise his limbs to cup your face, pulling you closer and closer so he could finally do what he had been dreaming about since your first duel.

A kiss. A promise. The final bind that would lock your souls together forevermore.

You gasped, smiling through the kiss before you plopped your entire body on top of his, your body finally getting overwhelmed by the alcohol and all that has happened in the past hours – knocking you straight into a dreamless sleep.

For the first time in a long, long while, he was at peace.

The two of you may never remember this moment but he’ll know it in his soul. In this dim room, surrounded by her scent, and her skin, and her kisses – he has finally found where he belongs and who belonged to him.

He pulled you into him – tighter, closer. It didn’t matter, you were his.

Only his.

“Guess we made up?”

When you woke up Sebastian was already lounging in the ottoman by the end of the bed, casually reading a book while you were crawling towards him with your blanket over your head and suffering through a hangover.

If not for the redness in his eyes you would’ve thought you hallucinated his teary apologies.

He was quick to open up his form, grabbing a decorative pillow for you as you laid down on his lap dramatically. You don’t remember much but you knew enough that the big fight was forgotten and forgiven.

“Guess so, darling,” he chuckled nonchalantly, back to his cool, charming self as if he hadn’t been a crybaby in your arms just yesterday.

‘Darling’? That’s new.

You grinned, letting him pet you. You weren’t complaining, not being friends with Sebastian felt wrong and it was a miracle you stood your ground as hard as you did.

“Aren’t I so gracious, dear?” you teased, poking his stomach to make him flinch. The two of you laughed. “What happened after I popped out that blasted poison from Hogshead?”

When you try to comb through your memories your headache fights back with a vengeance so you had hoped he would supply the blank pages in your mind.

He stared at you for a beat before sighing, looking truly as miffed as you. “I wish I remembered, I’m in the dark as much as you.”

And as much as he knows it was wrong to not try to remember, he also knew he wouldn’t be able to live through the embarrassment of what he might’ve been telling you while he was drunk and emotional again. It was a mistake but he was more than happy to let those blank memories remain blank. What’s important is that you are friends again.

“Let’s focus on the future now, hm? No sense digging through what would definitely be an embarrassing moment for me,” he groaned, pinching your cheeks when you gave him a teasing smile.

You hesitated, biting your lip but then nodded. “If you say so.” It was in the past after all.

Sebastian was glad you let it go. (He will regret this in years to come.)

“Speaking of futures, I had wanted to ask you,” he played with the short strands of your hair, heart full of adoration as he looked down at your face. “Go to the Yule Ball with me? Gotta have a pretty date for this year.”

You dramatically gasped, “The Future Triwizard Champion asking little old me? Also, I was your date last year, scoundrel!”

He burst out laughing, you jumped into his arms, pressing a kiss on his cheeks.

His lips tingled, his head ached as it begged him to remember. But then you flashed him that bright smile and nothing else mattered.

“I would love to.”

The two of you were back to what you had once been. It would just be greedy to ask for more.

Right?

[stumacherspillowprincess]

How to Please You

Stu Macher X Reader

Don’t come after my life if my writing isn’t up to par, it’s been a long time since I’ve written on another platform.

- Stu Macher’s Pillow Princess

(Let it be known I’m a switch at heart but I would let this man demolish me if he wanted to.)

You stumble through Stu’s house reaching the staircase. You sit for a moment and then call out for Randy, but he’s distracted by the movie playing on the tv and the horde of guys calling out obscenities to Jamie Lee Curtis in ‘Halloween’. You close your eyes for a moment and you feel a warm body sit next to you on the steps.

It’s Stu.

He laughs and puts his arm around you.

“There’s a reason you don’t drink keg beer, you drink the good shit I keep around for the pretty girls, that beer is trash.”

Pretty girl? You think, You haven’t had 2 seconds alone with this man since the beginning of time. He’s so forward.

“I’m not drunk Stu, I slipped and fell hard in the kitchen and my everything hurts.”

“Well little miss clumsy if you need to lay down or something your little boyfriend can take you up to my parents room.”

“Randy’s not my boyfriend.” You scoff.

You’ve been on one ‘date’ if hanging out at the video store after hours even counts as one.

“Like hell he is, every time I walk into that lousy ass video store he’s flapping that fucking mouth about you.”

“Not enough apparently because I’m sitting here with a sore ass and he’s too busy watching movies.”

“I’m not too busy for you and your sore ass” He grins stupidly as he pokes at your side.

You hit him playfully on the shoulder. He smirks.

“Come on, a bed’s gotta be comfier than these stairs”

He grabs your hand and lifts you to stand. He wraps his arm around your waist and grips you hard, almost carrying you up the stairs. He leads you to a room at the end of the hall. He closes the door and you hear a slight click.

‘Did he lock it?’

You plop down on the bed and fall back on the pillows. You feel Stu sit on the edge. He places his hand on your leg.

“Comfy?”

“Mhm”.

“You know.. I gotta ask .. because me and the guys just… can't seem to figure out how virgin extraordinaire landed you?”

“He’s sweet to me, plus how about you show me the list of available guys in our school that aren’t assholes or taken”.

“So because of Tatum I didn’t make the cut?”

“No.. you’re not on my list because you’re an asshole.”

He laughs. “Oh really now? I didn’t know” his sarcasm is all too much. “Wipe the smirk off your face”. He looks at your mouth and then back to your eyes.

You giggle at his frustration.

“Or what? you’ll do it for me?” You put your finger to his chest.

“I could do more than that..” his touches your hand with his fingers tracing patterns on the back of your palm.

His eyes wander for a second but he pops back into reality and blinks a few times. You place your hands in your lap.

“So tell me, have you popped old randy’s cherry yet?” He nudges you playfully.

“No one’s popping anything.”

“Nothing? Come on babe! a girls gotta have needs right? The kid isn't satisfying you in other ways?” He taps his fingers on your leg.

“No stu, Randy’s a virgin, in all ways, shapes, and forms”. You grab his hand and move it off of you placing it on the bed.

“So what do virgins do on a friday night? Play fucking checkers and call it a night? You gotta do better than that”. He shakes his head.

“What do I even do? He’s so sweet but he wouldn’t know how to make a move if I stripped naked and threw myself at him”.

“Oh really? That easy huh?

“Oh fuck you, I didn’t meant it like that. I wouldn’t even know what to do.”

“I could show you a thing or two”.

“You dick-” you grab and pillow and try to whack him, he grabs it and he tosses it on the ground

“I’m not kidding you want to please your man don’t you?”

“You’re lying, what would your girlfriend say about that?”

“She won’t say shit, because I’m not gonna tell her. Are you telling me you’d look Tatum in the eyes and tell her what we did?”

“But we didn’t do anything”

He grabs your legs and pulls you to the edge of the bed. You sit upright as he moves closer to you. .

“Yet.”

“But s-stu-”

“But-but Stu what? You think I don't know what you want? Fuck, I’ve always thought about it.”

“You think about me?” You bite your lip.

“You think me and Billy sit around and play who’s got the bigger dick all day long when we hang out? We talk about all the ladies we'd like to have-”

You cut him off

“Billy would probably win that argument”

Stu stands up grunting a little in frustration.

“You just like being a little brat don’t you. I was gonna show you mine but I guess you don't get to see it now.”

“Wait wha-”

“I mean if you insist I’d hate for all this to be a waste.”

He grabs your hand and places it on his chest and guides it down his stomach to his pants. He’s so hard.

“What are you doing?” You look up at him innocently.

“You want to learn how to please?” His voice gets lower.

“I-I don’t really know what to say, I’m a little-”

“Intimidated?” He cuts you off. “You don’t have to say anything, just listen.”

He grabs your chin and leans your face up so your eyes meet his.

“Don’t be scared, I’m not going to hurt you..”

“I wasn’t afraid of that.”

“Afraid you’d enjoy me too much?”

“Then what Stu? We go back to class on Monday and act like this was some dream?”

“Maybe I enjoy you too much and make you my girl.”

“I don’t want to rely on maybes..”

“You talk too much, maybe I should show you something to shut you up for a second.”

“Huh?”

He pushes you back on the bed and climbs on top of you kissing you without hesitation. His hands find their way to your chest grabbing at you hard. His kiss is rough, it only makes you want him more. His lips move to your neck biting you softly,

‘will this leave a mark?’

You think to yourself. His kisses trail down to your chest then turn to biting and sucking. A noticeable hickey would form, but you didn’t care, you could always wear a high collar t-shirt for the next week.

You moan out his name.

“Oh babe we’re just getting started.”

His hands feel down your thigh, his fingers moving up your skirt to your panties. He rubs the outside of you, you can feel yourself getting wetter at the touch of his fingers.

“Does that feel good?”

“Mhm” you close your eyes hard diving into the feel of his touch.

“I want you to use your words.”

“Y-es, you feel good.”

“That’s my girl”.

‘His girl?’

You love the sound of that. His fingers inched their way into your panties.

Those hands.. The way he was rubbing you was sending pulses throughout your whole body.

“Tell me you want it” He gritted his teeth. How turned on is he?

“I want it.”

“Do you need it?”

“I need it”

“Beg”

“Please, I can’t take it anymore.” It feels like you can’t breathe.

His slipped his fingers inside of you. You audibly gasp and he smiles at you. He’s almost proud of himself. They were almost too big to fit,

“Come on babe if you can’t handle this how could handle the rest of me?”

In and out his fingers moved slower, faster, it felt like You could just lose yourself all over his hand.

“You can wait.”

He stopped abruptly. Fuck.

“What are you doing.”

You were almost mad that he stopped.

‘Why would he do that? Maybe he likes the power?’

“Now I know how you like to be pleased..”

You sit up, chest heaving, you look into his eyes.

“Fuck you.”

“Not yet. It’s my turn.”

He stands up and backs away from the bed raising his hand to his mouth, his fingers touching his lips and tasting them. Tasting you. You stand up slowly. Wobbly. You put your hands on his hips. His hand reaches behind your neck pulling your face closer kissing you. He’s needy. You can feel the want in his kiss. He pulls you against him. He’s so hard.

You turn him so his back is to the bed. And push him down. He sits and looks up at you smirking ever so slightly.

“So you’re the one in charge now?”

You let out a breathy laugh for a moment.

“You have no idea,” pointing to his pants you only have to say two words.

“Pants. Now”

Stu grins and bites his lip as he struggles to undo his buckle and zipper. He’s a little too excited. You sit on his lap and pull his dick out of his boxers. He’s already ready to go.

You start stroking him and he leans his head back eyes closed tightly. He grips your thighs with those strong hands. He wants you so badly to just get on top already.

“Does that feel good?”

“Fuck, you know it does”

His hips start moving up and down to the rhythm of your hand sliding up and down his dick.

“I just need you already”

“How badly?”

“Like I need air” he gasps “fuck”

“Beg”

“Beg?”

He’s shocked? His own word used against him.

You stop. He looks at you in surprise.

“You’re such a dick.” He breathes out.

“I don’t hear you begging..”

“Please”

“That doesn’t sound real” you shake your head disappointed.

“Come on” he teases.

“Fine, that’s too bad I guess you’d rather I go downstairs and leave you like this” you shrug and move to get off of him.

“You aren’t going anywhere”

He leans up and place one hand on your ass pulling you closer, and the other hand up to the back of your head. His fingers grip at your hair bringing you close to kiss again. You grip at his sweater and pull it up and off of him tossing it to the side. You reach your hand around his dick again. He tenses up at the motion of your stroking.

He moans into your mouth.

“Please, I’m not fucking kidding anymore. I need this. I need you. Take these fucking things off and come here”

He tugs at your Panties trying to pull them down.

“You take them off if you want it so badly”

His fingers grasping gently turned to both hands gripping tightly and ripping them off. He tossed them on the ground and smiles into the kiss.

“Oops, I’ll just have to buy you a new pair.”

In one swift movement you grip and slide his throbbing dick inside of you. He’s so thick, he just fits so perfectly. You gasp as it enters. The warmth and wetness is too much for him. He lays back and moans gripping the sheets with one hand as the other remains on your hip. He bucks into you.

“F-fuck, you feel too good I can’t.”

He moans louder.

You place your hand on his mouth trying to muffle his moans.

“They’ll hear us.”

He grips your hand and moves it to his chest.

“Fuck them. This is my fucking house”

“Oh yeah?”

“This pussy is mine. You’re mine.”

He grips your hips rocking you back and forth on top of him as he fucks you from underneath.

Both of your hands resting on his chest you grind harder on top of him. He’s slipping.

“Yes please fuck. I can’t” he cries out.

“Yes you can stu. Who’s dick is this?”

You’re in charge now.

“It’s all yours babe, yours”

“Are you gonna cum for me? Stu”

“Yes, please I want to. Fuck you feel too good”

You bring his hands up to grip your breasts. And bounce harder and faster on him. Your whole body is tense.

“Fuck stu”

Your breathing quickens as you feel yourself getting closer. You feel your thighs gripped his waist tighter and tighter. Both your moans getting louder, matching ‘yes’s and him moaning your name over and over.

You feel it building inside of you as you ride harder and harder. And finally

Your orgasm makes you tighten around him pushing him over the edge as your body melts all over him. He finally cums and his grip was tight as he fills you up. His hands would leave an imprint. He gasps and let’s you ride every last drop out of him.

You gasp and moan as you collapse onto his chest.

It could have been hours or minutes before you could come back to the reality that you were in Mr. and Mrs. Macher’s bed, a party happening down below, and the fear that someone could catch you.

He wipes the sweat from his face with his shirt on the bed to the left of you guys. And wraps his arms around you. His lips kiss your forehead.

“Fuck” He’s breathing hard.

“I know” you smile into his chest.

“You just-”

“I know”

“Goddamn My head is spinning” his hands rub his face.

You both lay for a minute. Him still inside of you. Catching your breath. Someone knocks on the door.

“Who’s in there”

“Who the fucks asking?”

“Who the fuck else?”

It’s only Billy.

“Give me a minute Billy I’ll be right there”

You get off of him and walk across the room, sitting at the vanity and looking into the mirror fixing your hair and clothes.

It seems like he feels your reaction to the sex wasn’t as life altering as he assumed it was for you. Even if it was you weren’t gonna let him have the satisfaction.

“What the fuck just happened- it’s like you-”

“Knew what I was doing?”

He nodded questionably.

“I never said I was a virgin stu, randy is. You aren’t the first to “teach” me anything”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

He laughs nervously.

“Why don’t you ask Billy?”

You smirk as you open the door and walk out. Leaving him speechless. Billy is there standing against the hallway wall. He looks you up and down. Biting his lip. And raising his eyebrows at you.

“Now you’re not the first person I expected to walk out of there but you were definitely on the list”

You smirk.

“I didn’t expect last weekend either so just add this to your pile of secrets you have.”

He smirks as you walk away to join the party downstairs. Maybe he taught you well.

[lovesodakid]

sworn to secrecy 6

chris x fem!reader

1 2 3 4 5

summary: chris and y/n have known each other, pretty much their whole lives. y/n has always had a crush on chris. chris always viewed y/n as ‘nate’s little sister’ until one day, he realized, she wasn’t so little anymore…which nate sees..in which. he does not approve of whatsoever. (“brothers best friend trope”)

warnings: underage drinking/drunkness. should be all!!

____________________________________________

the ride back to the triplets house seems blurry and hazy as the alcohol continues to consume my senses. the dimly lit streetlights and florescent headlights being the only illumination of the dark night.

“hey, you okay?” nick asks from above me. im laying on my side, head on his lap in the backseat.

“mhm.” i grumble, attempting to sit up.

i rub my head with my right hand, as my left is holding my limp body up.

“hey kid,” chris begins as he turns around in the passenger seat. “maybe slow down on the drinks next time, yeah?”

i let a small laugh escape my lips as i sit up more in the seat. my back now against the back of it.

“are we almost there?” i question. referring to the triplets house, obviously.

“yeah. just ten more minutes.” matt answers, keeping his eyes trained on the empty road ahead of us.

i nod my head in response. memories from the night flooding my brain.

the sound of chris’s fist smacking against christian’s face before he falls to the ground. i wince at the memory.

a year ago, you couldn’t have paid me enough to even take a sip of alcohol. now? i just got completely wasted at my first party. i don’t know what switch has flipped in me lately, but something has definitely changed a lot.

“okay we’re here.” matt says as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

i nod again, unbuckling my own as i open the car door. i plant my feet on the graveled surface of the driveway, i take about two steps before i’m already wobbling. struggling to keep my balance.

“hey-here.” chris says quietly as i feel a warmness coating the exposed part of my waist due to black, slightly cropped shirt covering the top half of my body.

“you got her?” i hear nick question chris as we make our way up the steps of the patio, towards the front door.

“yeah.” he replies, keeping a tight grasp on me to keep me held up and walking.

“here i’ll get the door.” i hear matt rush in front of us, the sound of a lock unlocking filling the silence.

once the door squeaks open, a finger making itself over my lips in a “shush” position. i turn around to face chris behind me, assuming it’s him since the warmth of his left hand has left my waist.

“shh. you gotta be quiet okay? mom and dad are asleep.” he speaks softly, removing his finger from my mouth to grab onto my left shoulder.

i nod my head up and down, matt holding the door open for us to walk in. nick walking behind us, just incase i fall backwards.

my feet slowly approach the threshold of the door, making my way through it. the smell of the house filling my nostrils. the smell i’ve grown fond of. the smell i’ve considered home. the smell i wish my own house smelled of. family dinners every night, family game nights, and grill outs during the summer. my house was nothing like that. instead, it was filled with lingering aroma of alcohol and cigarettes. the alcohol from my dad, cigarettes from my mom. a house filled with pain and suffering. a house where family dinners didn’t exist, just the occasional times where we’d sit together and eat on the couch in silence as a random show took over the tv screen. which only happened once, maybe twice a year at most if i was lucky.

i look down, watching every step i take, making sure i don’t trip over anything as im already struggling to keep myself up and walking.

we all slowly but surely make our way up the squeaky brown staircase. chris keeping a tight grip on me. matt walking in front of us, nick walking behind us.

“okay, i’m going to bed. goodnight guys.” matt says quietly as he makes his way to his bedroom. leaving small creaks throughout the floorboard in his path.

“hey y/n/n, you coming to my room?” nick questions, placing his hand on my shoulder.

i nod as chris slowly loosens his grip on me, allowing nick to take hold to walk me to his room.

“okay, i’m going to bed. let me know if you need anything.” he explains as he begins his way to his room.

“okay, c’mon.” nick slowly walks me to his bedroom. the door making a slight screech sound as it opens.

once we both enter his room, i make my way to his bed, flopping myself down on my back as i stare up at the white, blank ceiling.

“you want some clothes to change into to sleep in?” nick inquires as he starts making his way towards his closet, sliding open the mirrored door.

“mhm.” i hum. wanting to just be comfortable, and out of the clothes that are currently coating my limp self.

“okay, here.” he hands me a set of grey sweatpants, and a random white hoodie he must’ve had for years, small stains here and there. “i’m gonna go brush my teeth while you get dressed.”

he heads to the bathroom, shutting his door behind him. i sit myself up, cursing myself for drinking so much alcohol in the first place. especially for the years i told myself i would never drink.

once i’m finally able to stand up without face planting, i remove the clothes i was wearing to put on the clothes nick lended me. the cotton hoodie and sweatpants immediately comforting my body. the warmness soothing the places that were once freezing.

i throw my clothes somewhere onto nick’s floor before climbing into his bed, pulling the comforter all the way up to my chin. the mattress sinking in, molding the place where my body lays.

my eyes already being extremely heavy, flutter closed as the paralyzing slumber takes over my body.

-

i blink my eyes multiple times to open them from their sleepy state. i sit up, the comforter of nicks bed slightly falling off the top half of my body, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

i place my feet on the cold flooring, as i stand up to make my way out of his bedroom. turning around to make sure he’s still asleep before turning the knob of his door. creating the small sound of metal rubbing against each other.

i make my way out of his room, only to be met with someone sitting at the island table, scrolling through their phone. sounds coming quietly from the speaker of it as he scrolls through various videos.

i walk around a little more to see the face of who it is. once i’m where i can see his face, he’s already spotted me.

“hey! how you feeling?” he interrogates quietly as he sits his phone face down on the table. ending with a small *thump* sound.

“um-i feel okay.” i answer, shrugging my shoulders. “what time is it?”

he picks his phone back up, reading the time back to me.

“5:03 A.M.” he reads, setting his phone back down.

“oh.” i say, walking towards the fridge to grab any kind of liquid after i noticed how painfully dry my throat had been.

silence fills the air as i open the refrigerator door, grabbing a plastic water bottle. i shut the door as i turn my back to it, facing chris once again.

i twist the plastic lid as it makes a small “pop” sound. taking a quick swig of the drink before placing it down on the marble design of the island.

“so, how was your first party experience?” he asks, staring right dead at me with a sly grin.

“um,” i begin. “it was okay. other than the fact i want to puke right now. and the fact you beat some dudes face in.” i laugh.

he shakes his head side to side before speaking. “well, the dude deserved it.” he says with a shrug of his shoulders.

i nod my head in agreement, crossing my arms.

“why did you do it?” i question him.

his face slightly faltering before he begins speaking.

“i just had my reasons.”

i push my lips into a straight line, raising my eyebrows as i nod.

“you should be getting back to bed. you’re gonna have a nasty hang over. so you should probably get some sleep.” he explains, standing up from his stool.

“goodnight chris.” i tell him, making my way back into nicks room.

“goodnight y/n.” he speaks softly, eyes scanning over my face before walking away with a small rub on my shoulder.

i walk back into nicks room, shutting the door behind me. i stride towards his bed. once i sit down, i get into a position i think is comfortable enough to sleep in, allowing the sleep to take over my body once again.

____________________________________________

a/n: sorry this part took so long to get out !! i was dealing with some minor personal things. i also apologize if this is a little more on the boring side. and for the fact its short!!!!

[kayleighwinchester]

Long Story

((Oh my god, I meant to post something on the 3rd and the 4th for @artyandink's Jensen-a-Thon and life just said 'mmm, no' - but here we are, my second entry! Another Dean x Reader! This can be read separately of Rocks and Rom Coms, but does follow the same reader insert, so they can definitely be read together! More coming soon! I swear to God, if this turns into an actual series... TW for mild mentions of injuries/blood.))

He had a key to your house.

Dean Winchester was one of three people (besides yourself, of course) that had a key: your mother, who lived across the country, over a day’s drive away in sunny, humid Florida; your best friend, who only really came over to your place for your once-monthly girls’ night; and Dean Winchester, who never, ever actually used the thing, preferring, god only knew why (he claimed it was more “romantic, or somethin’”, his exact words, not yours), to come in your bedroom window.

It was stupid, and maybe even a little dangerous – the half-dead tree he used to actually get up to the second story was one good thunderstorm away from falling, and the house itself was so old that you swore it was held together with duct tape and way too many instances of you calling your grandfather, who had built the house before your mother was even born, for advice and willing the house to stay in one piece.

With that in mind, you were thoroughly confused when, in the middle of the night, as you were making yourself a snack in the kitchen, you heard a key in the lock – or, well, the key missing the lock and hitting the door several times, and then finally making its way into the lock properly.

Even drunk, your best friend would have called first, even though, with how much of a struggle it had clearly been to get the key into the lock, she was your first thought. Your mother had just sent you vacation photos from her trip to California, which was even further from you than Florida. That left Dean – and the fact that he was using the front door at all left an uneasy feeling in your stomach. It was a clear break from a routine you’d established and held to for almost a year now, no matter what the weather was when he showed up at your window.

You turned, let your weight rest against the kitchen counter for a moment as you gathered your thoughts, and then pushed off of it, moving for the entryway. 

“Y/N? You home?” Dean sounded decidedly not good, and you picked up your pace just slightly, rounding the side of the staircase, and – oh. Dean looked decidedly not good too, though as he saw you he stubbornly straightened up, tried to smile (it looked far more like a grimace) and kicked the door closed behind him. He wasn’t entirely able to hide the way his weight pressed back against it.

“What happened to you?” You breathed out as you drew closer. You didn’t know much about what Dean did when he wasn’t with you – you assumed he had some kind of job, even if it seemed like a pretty shitty one – he showed up bruised and sore and stiff more often than not, but this was far worse than that. There was a bruise already turning a deep shade of purple above his eyebrow, and there was a slightly distant, foggy look on his face. You were willing to bet money he was concussed.

“Long story.” Was all he offered in response, slowly pushing himself off of the door. You didn’t pry – you never did – just reaching out to steady him. There was a mild limp in his gait, one that favored his left side, and you offered a grimace of your own. You weren’t sure he’d make it up the stairs, so you half-dragged him to the couch instead. He dropped down to the cushions with a groan, green eyes closing – if you couldn't see the pain he was in, it might have almost seemed cute, like he was just sinking down into a particularly comfortable seat. You knew better, in any case – the couch was easily the least comfortable piece of furniture you'd had the misfortune of owning. The couch wasn’t comfortable – he was just hurting. You knew that feeling well enough – the point where anything mostly horizontal and not entirely covered in bees was comfortable enough.

He didn’t stay down for long though – in fact, he was only sitting for the span of time it took you to return to the kitchen for the glass of wine you’d poured yourself and to pour him one as well – before you could hear him moving around again, and his voice was still distinctly not okay as he called out, from the general direction of the half-bath under the staircase, “You don’t happen to have any floss lyin’ around, do you?”

Floss?

“What?” Is the only answer you could think to reply with as you rounded the staircase again, glasses of wine still in hand, the bottle carefully tucked into your elbow. He peeked around the doorframe at you, somehow managing to look oh-so-charming, even now. 

“Y’know. Floss.” He motioned to his mouth, but you caught a glimpse of just a bit of exhausted exasperation, like he was explaining something incredibly obvious. 

“In the – in the hall closet, I think; why do you need floss?” 

He was looking at you like you were a little slow on the uptake, and you were staring at him like he’d gone insane, and it took a few heartbeats for him to seemingly process that his request was decidedly not normal. He made those, now and then, or said things, or asked things, that just didn’t quite make sense – this was one of them. You couldn’t tell if he was planning on actually answering your question – it didn’t seem like he was, at least not yet, because he moved for the hall closet, continuing his search.

“Dean,” You started, “you want to tell me why you need –...” Your eyes landed on his hip. The gray material of his tee-shirt and the upper portion of his jeans were soaked through in a dark, dark red, and for a moment, you felt a little queasy. “You don’t need dental floss, Dean, you need a hospital.” You informed him.

“Nah.” God, you hated it when he said that, because it was almost always followed up by something completely stupid. “I got you.” Yep. It all processed rather quickly after that. He needed dental floss for stitches. He couldn’t reach it himself – he had you. He had you, the nursing student, and he wanted you to stitch him up with dental floss. You set the glasses of wine and the bottle down on the side table before you could drop them. 

“You want me to stitch you up.” You clarified. “With dental floss.” He finally found what he was looking for - the unopened multi-pack of little travel-sized flosses - and waved it triumphantly next to his head, finally turning around to look at you. You were struck again by how tired he looked – you could practically see the headache pulsing behind his eyes, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell that the cheerful, charismatic smile he was putting on was incredibly forced.

“It’s easy!” He promised quickly, with the tone of someone who knew what he was asking was most certainly not easy. “I’ve been doin’ it since I was a kid. Had to stitch my Dad up all the time.” He caught your eye, giving a sheepish grin as he saw the horror on your face. “Long story.”

That was quickly becoming one of your least favorite phrases.

[gimmiesophiebaek]

VBPS (Colin’s Wedding)

Rated: G Staring: All of the Bridgertons + partners (Daphne’s married)

Party #3: Colin and Penelope’s Wedding (2017)

Eloise groaned, turning over in her bed as she heard the unmistakable sound of Hyacinth’s excited footsteps barreling toward her door. Before she had time to react, her younger sister burst into the room, face flushed with glee.

"Eloise! It's today! Colin and Penelope's wedding! Can you believe it?" Hyacinth practically shouted, bouncing on the edge of the bed.

"Yes, Hyacinth,” Eloise blinked against the sunlight streaming through the windows, shielding her eyes with a pillow. “I can believe it, considering you've reminded me approximately a thousand times," she muttered.

"But aren’t you excited? Your best friend is marrying our brother! It’s so romantic!" Hyacinth twirled around the room, while Eloise stared up at the ceiling, attempting to muster the enthusiasm she knew she should feel. She was happy for Colin and Penelope, thrilled even—but part of her couldn’t shake the bittersweet feeling of things changing, of her life shifting in ways she wasn’t ready for.

"I’ll be excited once I’ve had some coffee," Eloise grumbled, dragging herself out of bed. At least she had the luxury of her own room at Bridgerton House again. Francesca had moved across the hall to Daphne's old room, which now doubled as a nursery for Daphne’s children. The sound of giggling toddlers and cooing babies was constant, making Eloise grateful for her current solitude, though she still missed the privacy of her flat outside of London.

The thought of the podcast she and Penelope shared crossed her mind as she yawned. Will we even have time for it anymore? she wondered. They'd built something special with their show, Whistledown Pookies, and Eloise had pictured them spending more time ranting about society and ridiculous customs in the 21st century. Now, with Penelope marrying her brother, Eloise feared everything would change.

Hyacinth, oblivious to Eloise’s brooding, skipped out of the room, leaving her to get dressed and prepare. Eloise sighed, eyeing the clock. She had to get across the square and help Penelope with the final touches before the ceremony. If anything went wrong today, she knew Penelope’s mother, Portia Featherington, would make a grand spectacle of it.

In another part of Bridgerton House, Violet wandered the halls, searching for Gregory. She had a distinct feeling her eldest son, Anthony, was once again mysteriously absent. Of course, Anthony had a knack for disappearing when he was needed most, but at least, for once, it wasn’t because of his former entanglement with Sienna. That tumultuous affair had ended months after Daphne’s wedding, much to Violet's relief.

"Gregory!" she called, finally finding him lingering by the grand staircase. "Do you know where your brothers are?"

"Colin’s taking a shower," Gregory said, straightening his jacket. "Benedict’s on his way with the limos. But Anthony…" Gregory trailed off, giving Violet a knowing look.

"Anthony is…missing," Violet said, raising her brow.

"Exactly."

Violet sighed. She knew her eldest had a tendency to either bury himself in work or indulge in too many drinks at White’s. Both scenarios were equally likely this morning. 

"Let’s hope he isn’t too drunk for his own brother’s wedding."

"Well, at least Colin has me as his best man.” Gregory chuckled. “So, crisis averted."

Violet smiled softly, grateful for Gregory's reliability. While she felt some anxiety about Anthony’s whereabouts, she was relieved she hadn’t had to manage too many of the wedding details. Penelope’s mother, Portia, had taken over the planning with fervor. Let’s just hope she’s kept things elegant, Violet thought, shuddering at the memory of Philippa’s butterfly-themed wedding and Prudence’s baffling purple-and-green color scheme.

"Well, Gregory," Violet said, patting his arm, "you’re in charge of keeping everything on track until Anthony shows up. Keep your brother in line, will you?"

"You can count on me." Gregory grinned, giving his mother a wink. 

As Violet left to attend to her own duties, Eloise rushed out of her room, hastily buttoning up her gown as she made her way toward Penelope’s side. Today wasn’t just any day—it was the start of a new chapter, not just for Colin and Penelope, but for her too.

And despite her grumbling, deep down, Eloise was excited to see where that chapter would take them all.

Continue this two-parter on AO3

[vialovesyou]

𝗵𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗝𝗝 𝗠𝗔𝗬𝗕𝗔𝗡𝗞

" oh-oh my god" kelsey exhaled, holding y/n's hair back as she threw up into the toilet for the third time that night. kelsey glanced up at caitlyn who shrugged her shoulders." she can't go home like this" kelsey stated, rubbing the girls back.

it was halloween night, and mckay, a stupid rich kook,was throwing a huge party. his parents were out of town for the weekend and left with without a spending limit on his daddy's amex so the marble island in the kitchen was covered with alchohol.

jj and y/n had argued a few hours before, it started as something stupid but it turned into them both saying something they regret. y/n had showed up at mckay's with a strapless black bodycon dress, black stockings that had pink bows at the cut-off at her thigh and a fake gun in the holster. " mrs smith" mckay grinned, opening his arms for the brunette. mckay was dressed as hugh hefner, and y/n noticed his girlfriend, sienna, dressed up as a playboy bunny in another room.

mckay was one of the only decent kooks on the island, he was a nice person. his parents raised him like that. he was respectful, did well in school and never picked fights.

" where's mr smith?" mckay asked, walking to the kitchen with his hand on y/n's lower back. "that doesn't matter " smiled y/n, grinning at the array of bottles. " shots?"

that was how y/n ended up in this situation. she was able to talk at first, being semi illiterate before she passed out in the downstairs bathroom. mckay helped kelsey take her upstairs to his bedroom, before giving the two some privacy after bringing y/n some water and bread.

she was unable to talk at this stage, going in and out of conciousness to throw up as she layed on the bathroom floor with mckay's quilt on top of her to cover her dress which was pulled up far too high, her underwear on show.

" should we call jj?" caitlyn asked, reaching for y/n's phone that was on the counter top and quickly unlocking it. " yeah, i can't take her to my place like this. my mom's home" kelsey spoke, as y/n's head fell onto her lap.

kelsey began stroking the girls hair as caitlyn dialed jj's number.

-

" i don't know how you watch this shit" jj exhaled, uncrossing his arms from his chest as he glanced at sarah. john b had fell asleep long ago, his head on her shoulder as him and sarah watched some sappy rom-com. " why are you so grouchy?" asked sarah, a pout on her features.

jj had been in a bad mood since he stormed into the chateau, slamming the front door so hard that the full house shook. he had been snappy ever since. sarah knew that it was something to do with y/n since the only response she got when she asked what y/n was up too ,was a grumble under his breath.

his ringtone cut threw the air, cutting sarah off as a picture of jj and y/n flashed on the screen, her name across the top. sarah watched as jj cleared his throat, diverting his eyes back to the tv.

" aren't you going to answer that?" sarah questioned as the phone rung out. they were engulfed in silence once again, before it started ringing again. " jj" sarah urged, rolling her eyes as the boy silenced the call again.

y/n❤️

jj it's caity

can u come get y/n

she's really drunk

it's bad

we are at mckays

the adress is 57 whitehill lane

j 💌

i'm on my way

" i need to go" jj stated, standing up and picking up his shoes. " is everything okay?" sarah questioned, at the boys now frantic state but didn't get a reply as he slammed the door shut.

-

" yo, jj. my man, so glad you could make it " grinned mckay, dapping up jj as the blonde came into the kitchen.

" where's y/n " jj questioned, his face void of a smile. mckay nodded, understanding that jj was worried about his girlfriend.

" follow me" mckay spoke, beggining to walk up the spiral staircase with jj behind him. they walked down a ridiculously long hallway, before they stopped.

" she's in there" mckay spoke, gesturing to the door causing jj to nod. mckay began to walk away, but stopped when he heard jj speak. "mckay?" mckay nodded in response. " thanks"jj stated, smiling with his lips in a thin line at the boy.

" no problem, bro" mckay shouted, going back downstairs as jj opened the door. his eyes immediately went to the ensuite bathroom as he could see caity stood in the doorway.

" oh, jj " she sighed in relief, stepping to the side to allow jj to crouch down beside y/n.

" what happened?" jj questioned, lifting the girls head gently from kelsey's lap to his own allowing the girl to stand up.

" i don't know, she showed up and she was really upset. she started drinking, and crying. god, she was crying alot- what the fuck did you do to make her cry so much?" kelsey questioned, as jj stroked the girl's tear stained cheek as she was still asleep. " she came in here with blair, then i came in and blair was gone, and y/n was on the floor"

" shit" he muttured, guilt flooding his chest as the girl suddenly woke up. she turned her head to the toilet, coughing as she began to throw up. he wrapped his hand around her hair, pulling it into a make-shift ponytail.

kelsey kneeled down beside the couple, giving jj the plastic cup filled with water as y/n leaned back, falling into jj's chest. " hey, baby. drink this" jj spoke softly, using his thumb to lightly open the girls mouth. y/n blinked slowly, allowing jj to tilt the liquid into her mouth before she pulled away.

she blinked a couple of times, looking up to see it was jj. " hi, asshole" she slurred, accepting the bit of pizza caitlyn was handing her before taking a bite. jj laughed lightly. he was sat on the bathroom floor, his back against the wall beside the toilet with y/n between his legs. she leaned her head back onto his chest, taking another bite of the pizza having seemingly sobered up slightly.

she reached up and plucked the cap off his head, and put it on her own causing jj to reach down and push the front off the cap down blocking her eyesighr. " hey, want to fuck off?" y/n questioned, looking up at jj with her head still on his chest. he rolled his eyes, wrapping his arm loosely around the girls waist fiddling with the bows on her stockings.

[next-autopsy]

A/N: Well, hi there! Damn, it has been awhile, how have y’all been? I hope y’all enjoy this chapter, I have more chapter to come so stay tuned

Based on the actors portrayal/hbo show and written with no disrespect to the real life veterans. Also all images found on Pinterest.

TW: I think none...

Tags: @malarkgirlypop, @panzershrike-pretz

Made of Glass

Chapter twenty five: A Sleepover 

Nixon snored peacefully in the spare room of the house Winters was billited to, while Birdie and Joe stood nearby waiting like kids in trouble.

Winters had taken his drunk friend off of the woman and with Liebgott’s help, tossed him there to sleep off the alcohol. He rummaged around for a blanket and once found, lay it over Lewis.

“Good thinking, bringing him here.” Winters commended Birdie, she beamed at him, happy to receive any sort of compliment from her favourite lieutenant. Meanwhile, Joe kept silent, watching the interaction between the two with curiosity.

“Thank you, sir.” Bernadette smiled at him, following him out of the room and downstairs with Liebgott trailing behind.

“You remembered they are away visiting relatives.” Again, he praised her and Birdie smiled up at him, cheeks tinting pink.

“Yes, sir.” Winters nodded at her response. “I wouldn’t have brought him here otherwise.” As she spoke, Richard gave a small smile, seemingly impressed with the young lady.

“You’ll take my bed, I'll get you some clothes to sleep in.” Richard spoke to the girl, he led the two into the kitchen, “Liebgott?”

“Yes, sir?” Joe tensed, fearing a scolding from the redhead.

“You’re on the couch.” Clear and simple. No reprimands.

“Yes, sir.” He had no arguments, sleep sounded amazing right now.

“Sir? Shouldn’t we head back to the barracks?” Birdie reached out to touch Richard's forearm, gaining his attention before he marched off to find them spare clothes. Winters stopped his action to look at her.

“It’s far too late for that, Birdie.” Dick spoke softly to her, using her nickname, something that shocked Joe. He could only watch the two talking and listen in, “By the time you two get back, you’ll have less than an hour to sleep before you need to get up. Just stay here the night, I'll make breakfast for you and you can head over with me.” He wasn’t exactly leaving room for discussion. Birdie nodded and Richard left.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know he'd make us stay.” Bernadette took a tentative step closer to Joe.

“Don’t worry about it.” He spoke quickly and wouldn't make eye contact so Birdie assumed he was upset with the situation.

“Are you-” She began to question his odd behaviour but was interrupted.

“Here.” Winters was back and handed over two piles of spare clothes to the two soldiers in his temporary kitchen.

“Thank you, sir.” They spoke in tandem.

“Living room is through there.” Dick pointed to the door behind Liebgott, who nodded and walked in that direction. Winters turned to Birdie and gestured to the staircase, she nodded and headed that way.

“On the left.” Dick told her, she turned left and entered the room, revealing a simple bedroom with drawers, a single bed and a little window covered by light blue curtains.

“Where will you sleep?” She eyed him, he only smiled and shook his head. A gesture that made her think of her father, sudden melancholy washed over her. She missed him dearly, even though they exchanged letters often. She saw her father in Richard, little movements or facial expressions, sometimes his tone of voice.

“I’ll be fine, Birdie.” His words were soft, “Bathroom’s down the hall to the right, can’t miss it.”

“Thank you.” She fiddled with the fabric in her hands, waiting for Dick to say more or leave. He turned and took a single step, then froze and faced her once more.

“What were you doing out so late?” Richard questioned, not judgmentally simply curious or slightly concerned for the young lady he had grown so fond of.

“We were…. I-I….” She sighed, “Dancing….” Birdie stuttered, keeping her voice and head low. It really did feel like she was speaking to her father and she couldn’t shake the notion that he was disappointed in her, it made her shrink back and cringe.

“Birdie….” Richard paused, “I care about you. I don't want to see you dismissed because of-...” He let out a deep sigh, “You understand fraternizing is against the rules?” That got her attention. Her head shot up, eyes wide as she gaped at him,

“Oh! We- It wasn't like that!”

“Sure. But you understand, right?” He had to be certain she was aware of the consequences and how serious the punishment would be for her.

“I understand, sir. Nothing happened.” Bernadette gave in, sighing. Richard felt bad, he hadn’t meant to upset her, but he wouldn't allow her to get this far only to be sent home in disgrace because of some boy.

“Good. Sleep well.”

—----------------------------

“Liebgott.”

“Jesus! Sir, you scared me.”

“Here.” Richard passed over a pillow and a blanket, which Joe accepted happily, now wearing the lieutenants spare clothes.

“Thank you, sir.” Joe spoke, stepping to the couch to set up his sleeping space. Richard stood and watched him, studying his movements, it gave Liebgott chills and made him feel like he had done something very wrong.

“Was there something else, sir?” He wanted to fidget with something but knew the lieutenant observing him would notice so he refrained. Richard kept quiet for a moment, his eyes squinted at the man, then like nothing happened, he shook his head, spoke a soft ‘No’ and left.

Joe tried to shrug off the behaviour but couldn’t help the ideas forming in his head. He lay on the surprisingly comfortable couch and stared up at the ceiling, brain occupied with Birdie and Winters strange responses. He kept switching between thoughts of dancing with the beautiful girl and then the look of… was it disappointment? Displeasure? Anger? He couldn’t tell, Winters was a hard man to read.

—--------------------------

Breakfast was an uncomfortable ordeal. Richard had woken his three guests in the otherwise empty house, though Nixon told him to ‘fuck off’ and kept sleeping. Birdie spent ages in the bathroom primping, she tried her hardest to brush through her hair with her fingers so she was somewhat presentable.

Downstairs, Dick toasted bread and boiled water and Liebgott sat at the dining table, waiting. The quiet between them was palpable. Joe considered sneaking off and never returning but before he could make a move, Winters placed plates on the table with a clatter and sat in the seat across from him. The only thing Joe could do was wait while the lieutenant stared at him from the otherside of the table.

“So… dancing.” Richard was the first to break the silence.

“Sir?” He was confused by Dick’s words, was that a question? And why did Joe feel like he was about to be told off?

“Last night… Birdie told me you two… danced.” The places he decided to pause gave the sentence a very different meaning, one that had Joe blushing.

“Uh… Yes, sir.”

“Hmm…” A brief pause, “Birdie- Corporal Coldwell has worked very hard to get where she is. Harder than any man, harder than me…. Harder than you.” Winters told him, his face was stoic and stern. Liebgott shuffled his feet under the table. He should've left last night when he was alone in the living room.

“Yes, sir. She has.” Joe agreed, she had proved herself time and time again and it wouldn't stop there, she’d have to continue proving she was of value to every man she met while serving as a paratrooper.

“I would hate to see her throw all her hard work away, wouldn’t you?” Dick raised his eyebrow to make sure Joe understood the underlying meaning of the early morning chat.

He did. “Yes, sir.” He had understood the redhead loud and clear and now he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

“Morning!” Birdie chirped, appearing round the corner. She skipped to the table with two sets of eyes on her.

“Good morning.” Dick replied, watching as she sat and picked a piece of toast, smothering it in marmalade and chomping at it. After she had taken her food, the two men began to consume theirs.

“Morning.” Joe mumbled. The trio took turns looking at each other while they chewed and sipped.

“I’m heading back to base at 0700.” Richard checked his watch, making sure they were still on track to make it there in time. Luckily it was a Sunday, which meant late morning starts as most people were hungover or at the Sunday service put on for those wanting to worship. Birdie was usually one of those people, raised a devout Catholic, she was yet to miss a Sunday service.

Today might be that day. Winters saw the look on her face and read her mind. “You’ll make the service. I’ll make sure of it.” She nodded at the man, trusting he had a plan.

Liebgott found himself observing the pair yet again, intrigued and confused by the dynamic. At first glance, the Corporal and the Lieutenant looked at each other like they were in love, absolutely smitten. Birdie’s eyes shimmered everytime she glanced at the redhead and he couldn’t help but smile at her even though he typically dawned a stoic expression. There was something between them, Joe was sure of it.

The more Liebgott watched, the more he noticed. The pair shared small touches, a hand on the arm, a gentle pat on the back, even a brush of their knees.

Something in the back of Joe’s mind yelled everytime Birdie smiled at Richard and begged him to speak up when Richard showed any affection back. He just wanted to know, for certain, how Birdie felt about the other man at the table. The previous night they spent together, dancing, talking and laughing had made him realize his feelings towards the Mississippi woman, and he had started to believe she may reciprocate. He was hooked on everything about her, her charm and wit was only the beginning.

But now, he questioned that. Joe had truly thought she was leaning in to meet him halfway, before their almost first kiss was interrupted. Seeing how she acted toward Winters was unsettling, he hadn't realized they were that close and he didn’t like it.

“I’ll go get Nix up.” Dick told the young lady, smiling at her warmly then left her at the table to finish her breakfast.

“So… How did you sleep?” The woman spoke out to him, her morning voice was somewhat groggy and strained but her interest was genuine.

“Fine.” Joe really tried to keep his upset to himself, it wasn’t his business if Coldwell was in love with Winters. They were friends, he reminded himself. New friends, so he had no say in who she liked or talked to.

“Joey… are you okay?” Birdie paused, “You seem… quiet.”

Joe found that he didn't like that nickname anymore. When she first suggested it, he had feigned a hatred for the title: Joey, but hearing it from her had him reeling. It was all he wanted her to call him for the rest of their lives. He thought he would never tire of it. Joey. Yes he was pleased last night when she bestowed the cutesy name upon him but now…. Now he wanted it to stop. His stomach churned at the sound and he toyed with the idea of asking her to stop it.

“You go to service every Sunday?” It was his attempt at changing the subject, ignoring the twist in his belly and the hot feeling that crept up him when he thought of her and Winters.

“I sure try.” Birdie knew he was avoiding but she decided to let him… for now. She would not forget this moment and most definitely be finding some time alone with him, properly alone, to discuss it.

“Hmm.” Deep in thought he continued with his breakfast, his mind kept wandering to Winters. The man was an officer for Christ's sake, he couldn’t compete with that. He was well respected, calm and compassionate, all great qualities and essentially the opposite of Joe. He tried to find a flaw, something he could zone in on and hate but he just couldn’t. He liked Richard Winters and was starting to see the compatibility between the officer and Bernadette.

“You can eat on the way.” The two men from upstairs, trotted into the kitchen. After seeing Nixon so out of sorts the previous night, it was a surprise to both Joe and Birdie to see the man fully dressed and clean shaven standing in front of them like he hadn't just been severely drunk several hours before.

“Morning all.” Nixon spoke, turning to give Dick a concealed look once he noticed which two soldiers were sitting at the table. He didn’t exactly remember the night's events but Richard had told him he was brought here by two second platooners and now seeing their faces, flashes of meeting up with the couple on an empty road replayed in his head.

Nixon couldn’t help but smirk. Someone owed him twenty dollars.

A/N: Tell me what you think and expected another chapter shortly

~ Nex ~

Chapter twenty six: Half an explanation

[the-fiction-witch]

Home

Media - My Left Hand Man / Phantom Halo / Sleep No More Character - Samuel Emmerson Couple - Samuel X Reader Reader - Y/n (Neighbour) Rating - Sweet af Word Count - 1422

Samuel sat down on the staircase of his little house, everything felt as if the world was falling for him, Samuel had never had an easy life. Born to a mother with serious mental health problems, and a father who drinks, smokes and gambles himself beyond excess. But he had felt some peace of late, and it had all come crumping down. His mother had run off, his father had gotten them so far into debt the family had not a single dime to their names, men were coming around threatening and asking for their father, because his father had taken what little they had pawned off and ran off to the casino, and it was unlikely he was going to come back, his brother becket had gone out three days ago and had not yet come back without a word to samuel where he was going, and now Samuel had come home after a day of reciting Shakespeare on street corners with a whole five bucks to get himself through to find the landlord had bolted the house and left everything his father hadn’t already taken left in a backpack on the front step for samuel to take with him. He didn’t cry, he just sat on the step with the bag and his five bucks in hand trying to think what he was to do.

"Hey, Sam!" A voice catches his attention, he looks up and sees Y/n the girl who lived in the house next door,

Y/n heads down the street, In a pair of combat boots, some high-waisted black jeans, a sheer net t-shirt with a small red vest over it, a Moto jacket hung over her satchel bag, her hair pulled into two braids that fall down her shoulders,

“Oh, hey Y/n,” He tried to smile at her, “How was… wherever you’ve been?” he tried to strike up a conversation almost as a way to distract himself from everything,

“Fine, same as always.” she shrugged as she came over, “You okay?”

“Uhhhh yeah, I uhh…” He sniffled,

“The place locked up again?” she asked noticing the bolt on the front door,

“Yeah,” He nodded,

“Where’s your dad?”

He shrugged,

"I know, it's hard. I'm sure you'd dad will show up he always does" she says as she sits down beside him on the step,

“He pawned everything we had,” he told her, “He’s gone to the casino, if they don’t shoot him on sight for his debts he’ll get drunk and gamble it all away anyway and then they’ll shoot him. That or he’s gonna get picked up and taken out by one of the many other people he owes.” He explained, “No… he ain’t coming back Y/n,”

“Your mom?”

“My mom ain't be back for five years… if she wanted to be back she would have come home by now.” He said tears starting to fall,

"come here I'll be your mom, I'll take care of you Sammy" she smiled pulling him so he could rest his head on her shoulder, “I mean not literally more like an older sister but you know what I mean,”

Samuel laughed and smiled and buried his face on her shoulder, “Thank you so much, Y/n, I really wish I had an older sister like you…” he muttered tearfully,

"well you have Becket doesn't your big brother take care of you?"

“Not really, he always just steals whatever money he can and runs off till he runs out of money, he just doens’t want to be here,” Samuel explains,

"oh you poor thing," she cooed hugging him tighter,

“Now I don’t know where anyone is, I don’t know if anyone is coming back, the house is bolted and I don’t have any idea what to do…”

“How long have you been sat out here?”

“Four hours…”

"ohh Sammy, you poor thing. It's okay. Come on come with me,"

“What?” he asked in shock,

“Come on,” she just got up holding his hand, and his bag, she leads him next door to her own house, everything inside was much nicer than this, this house actually had doors, the windows weren't broken, and it felt warm. She quickly makes some hot chocolate in the kitchen and hands it to him letting him sit on the sofa with a blanket "Drink up as much as you want, I'll go run you a nice hot bath once you’re done and we'll get in a pizza," she smiled kissing his forehead,

“Wait… Y/n…” he stopped her and as he held her arm Sam's tears flowed down, “You really don’t mind?”

“Course not,”

“I can stay tonight?”

“You can stay as long as you need to,”

“But I don’t have any money-”

“Did I ask if you did?”

“No, but I…” He stuttered “Y… you're so nice to me, but … what would your dad say, if you take in a thief?

"I don't know never met the guy," she shrugged,

“So is it alright if I… stay?”

"you can stay as long as you like, I promise" she reassured, "and even once you go you are welcome to come back any time you like for as long as you like. Eat my food, drink my drinks, use my shower, use the bed, any painkillers or medication you need just tell me. I'll take care of you I promise"

Samuel couldn't contain his feelings and just broke into tears thinking about how much care he needed in his life, and all of that just because you offered him a shelter and a place he could call home. He hugged her tightly and buried his face in her shoulder, then he spoke again while sobbing “Thank you… thank you very much, I can't believe how kind you are…”

"awww that's okay Sammy, no need to worry,” she smiled hugging him too she kissed his head and let him hug as long as he needed,

Samuel just stayed there hugging her, feeling so safe and protected in her arms. Every now and then he would say some words but would just end up sobbing into her shoulder. He was shaking from the amount of adrenaline and emotions he felt as he hugged her, his lips were trembling with sadness as he held Y/n close,

“What about your mom? Won't she get mad at you because you took me in?”

"I highly doubt it, she doesn't live here"

Samuel's eyes widen as he hears this, “Wait, she doesn't?! You.. you live here on your own?” He is surprised of course as he assumed Y/n wasn’t that much older than him if not the same age, it did make life easier as they could just care for one another,

"no, I left when I was fourteenth. She was… Not a nice drunk, and she was always drunk. So I left and bounced around the system till I got a solid job and here we are. Trust me you could cost me a hundred bucks a week it's not gonna be a problem,"

“But, what if someone finds out you took me in? They can report us, we can get into trouble…”

"why? Why is it anyone's business?"

“Well, because you know I am a thief, if they find out you are basically sheltering me, they would come for us, I could maybe even be arrested for being in your house and you could be in trouble for that.”

"Sammy you're a pickpocket. You pinch phones and wallets out of strangers' back pockets half the time people don't even know they've been robbed just assume they lost it. Trust me no one is coming after you and even if for some reason they did, I am not going to let them take you just for being in my house. This is my house and I allow whoever I want in it"

“Well, you're right I guess, but still… I don’t want to cause you any trouble”

"I promise you are welcome to stay as long as you like we can get you cleaned up and maybe look into getting you a little job? Or you can just be my little maid"

“Wait, really?” he smiled “You promise I can actually stay with you and help you with house chores” Samuel's eyes sparkled at the thought of being able to have a safe place to stay

"of course, you’re welcome to stay and if you want any help you have only to ask, now… How about I go run you a nice hot bath with some bubbles?"

“Really?!” Sam asks happy and excited, “I would really like it if you did that for me actually…”

“Okay give me a second, you enjoy your hot chocolate,” she smiled as she headed to the bathroom,

[goodgirlgonebard]

As promised, I am sharing the full short fic here on tumblr now that part 2 has been posted on ao3 🖤

Hospitality

A Baldur’s Gate 3 two-shot

Gale takes a drunken Shadowheart back to his tower in Waterdeep after a party, and the next morning he shows her what a hospitable host he can be.

Pairing: Gale x Shadowheart

Tags: 18+, M/F, post-canon, friends to lovers, smut, oral sex (F receiving), vaginal sex, cock riding, unprotected sex, creampie

Word count: 8K+

Notes: This is loosely based off of a chapter in my longfic “Dealbreaker” where Gale & Shadowheart leave a party together, but you don’t need to read the longfic to understand it. Please note that Willow is the Tav in my longfic — she’s not in this, just mentioned!

Gale — Part One: Waterdhavian Hospitality

By the time Gale and Shadowheart have stumbled through the portal Gale has prepared for them in his garden in Waterdeep, it is late. So late that it is nearly early.

Shadowheart can barely walk anymore, and she clings to him like a child as Gale attempts to get through the house quietly. Her knee bangs against the door frame as they enter and she giggles instead of crying out, then throws her fancy shoes across the room before Gale even realizes that she’s taken them off. She is horribly, wickedly drunk.

“What did Astarion put in that wine?” Gale mutters to himself, not expecting an answer from his inebriated companion.

“So much wine!” Shadowheart responds, with excitement in her voice as if she could still drink more of it. Gale and Willow had to begin shooing away the people serving these generous goblets of fine wine near the end of the party, as their poor friend could not help but to try and taste all of the different kinds Astarion had available. Some of them were enchanted to make her lips change colors with just a sip, or to make her feel happy or sultry or charismatic — so they say, though Gale would have to examine them more closely to know whether or not these latter claims of arcana are true as he was too distracted by her to do so — but Shadowheart tried them all.

Gale tries everything he can to get Shadowheart up the steps to the spare room quietly. He allows her to lean nearly all of her bodyweight into him as they ascend the staircase of the tower that is his home, despite the way she seems to almost purposefully trip over every single step. She did not seem so clumsy while she was dancing at the party; Shadowheart and Willow likely could have danced all night if Astarion would have let the party last that long, and Gale could have enjoyed watching them just as much as Astarion seemed to be from his ceremonial throne at the edge of the ballroom — though he wouldn’t deign to sit in such a gaudy looking thing, himself. Between long conversations about where their lives have led them since they all went their separate ways, the two women laughed and sweat together on the polished ballroom floor, seemingly happier than Gale has ever seen either of them before.

The sight of Shadowheart perspiring under the harsh lighting, and the feeling of her cold sweat even now as she stumbles up the stairs in his arms is surprisingly beautiful. Gale has always seen the objective beauty in Shadowheart, of course, but when they were traveling together the two of them both had duties to goddesses — and betrayals to goddesses — on their minds, which kept Gale, for one, occupied. Lonely and occupied.

“Mr. Dekarios!” A voice Gale knows too well interrupts his train of thought at the top of the stairwell leading into the guest room, making Shadowheart fall to the floor. Gale attempts to catch her by the arm, grasping her all too harshly and making her wince as she slides onto her knees anyway. “I did not know we were having guests this morning.”

Tara sits at the foot of the bed Shadowheart will be sleeping in, clearly having heard the two of them stumbling in since before they even reached the staircase. There is not a hair or feather out of place across her delicate little body, and she stares at Gale with a perfectly formed scowl across her face. Tara hates unexpected guests.

“My apologies, Tara,” Gale says with a sigh, much too tired to come up with anything better to offer her. “The ball went much later than we thought, and I could not let Shadowheart to go wandering Baldurs Gate like this—“

“Mr. Ancunín could not offer her a room?” Tara counters, exaggerating Astarion’s name — she reads his letters, and is often left rather unimpressed with his lordship and his prose.

“I’m sorry, Tara,” Shadowheart slurs from the floor, placing the emphasis on the wrong syllable of Tara’s name. “I didn’t want to listen to the moaning.”

Shadowheart immediately follows her statement with a drunken snort, but Gale quickly tries to cover the sound of it with clearing his throat. “In any case, Tara, I do hope you will welcome Shadowheart for the night.”

“For the morning, Mr. Dekarios,” Tara corrects him, pointing her chin up to the open window on the east side of the room, where the sun is beginning to poke out over the horizon. Gale slumps his shoulders, trying to convey how exhausting the night has been to Tara without having to explain it all to her; she must know that he will recount all of the strange details to her another time.

“Fine,” Tara concedes, sitting up on the bed and stretching out her wings, as if she is about to take flight right out of the open window. “I’m due to pay a visit to your mother while you sleep off your vampire soirée.”

“Thank you, Tara,” Gale offers her a smile as she takes off out of the room, even knowing that she is irritated with the way he has entered their tower this morning. It has been difficult for her to adjust to Gale being a living, non-isolated by the orb being again, despite how much she wanted it to happen in the first place. In her defense, it has been a rather messy transition for him, and this morning is a rather prime example of that; Gale likely should have left when the other guests began seeing themselves out, but could not not seem to detach himself from his drunken friend.

Gale helps Shadowheart up from her place on the floor, and she manages to wobble over to the newly freed bed. Her hands are cold and clammy as she grips onto Gale for support, but still soft. She falls into the bed harder than he has ever seen her fall down before, almost pulling Gale down with her as she does, and immediately closes her eyes.

“Thanks, Gale,” she mumbles, as if already half-asleep. Her fingers slip loose from the grip they had on his hands, instead twisting together in front of her face like she’s holding some invisible object in her arms.

“You’re welcome, Shadowheart,” Gale whispers back to her, with more gentleness than her mindless mumbling. He isn’t sure if she even knows that he is still watching her face as she does it, as his feet have already begun making their way toward the steps up to his own bedroom, but her lips curl up into a tiny, sleepy smile against the pillow as as he speaks.

Gale cannot help that his lips do the same when his head finally falls against his own soft pillow in his own bed, which feels particularly empty on this cold night in Uktar. Bedsheets and blankets that have been no small comfort to him since returning from their long journey to defeat the tadpoles within their heads — and resolve the orb within his chest — now offer little but material relief from the chilly wind coming through the window he does not care to close.

Months ago, Gale used to lull himself to sleep on lonelier nights in his tent in one of two ways; the first was to picture himself finding Mystra’s forgiveness for his folly with the orb, and to be cured of all of his suffering; the second came later, and was to create grandiose visions within his mind of reforging the crown of Karsus. He ended up accomplishing the former, of course, and now lives that more comfortable reality; and while he is grateful for it, some nights are still just a bit too quiet after so many months of traveling with a band of raucous misfits.

Maybe it is merely the tiny bit of wine Gale had before he became Shadowheart’s babysitter, or maybe it is because he saw the way his newly engaged friends stared longingly at each other the entire night; but tonight as Gale lies in his own bed he feels a fluttering within his chest at the thought of her lying a floor below him. Shadowheart.

Despite the late night, Gale wakes up as early as he usually would for his early mornings at Blackstaff, long before Shadowheart has stirred in her bed downstairs. He wakes with crust in his eyes, a banging in his head, and a gratefulness in his heart that he planned around the ball last night and will have no students to visit with today.

The morning breathes new ambition into Gale, post-party aches and all. He has lived his life long enough to know that the pains in his body are nothing that a little potion and tea cannot remedy, but the yearning he allowed himself to indulge in as he fell asleep last night will only snowball if he does not take the opportunity to address it. How he will address it is another matter that he only has a few hours at most to sort out.

The first decision he makes is to present himself well, rather than lounging around in a robe after his morning bath as he typically would with his tea on a day off. Gale’s closet is filled to the brim with excellent clothing choices in varying shades of royal purples, pinks and blues, with an eye for professionalism mixed in with the wizardly whimsy, thanks to staff meetings at the academy. He does not have to stare at his wardrobe for long before picking out a sharp button-down shirt and a purple vest with a single flower embroidered across the breast — Shadowheart loves flowers. It’s one of the only things she could remember about herself from before the Sharrans took all of her memories.

Gale combs his hair and throws on pants — regular pants, so as not to look as if he’s trying too hard with steamed trousers — before heading down the steps to the main floor and into the kitchen, where he has decided he will wait for Shadowheart with tea and see where the morning leads. There is no reason for Gale to be nervous about this. He has known Shadowheart for months now.

Sitting out on the dining room table, Gale smiles when he sees a gift left from Tara before she must have escaped to visit his mother. Without even a word or a note, he knows that she left the green tea and ginger on the table for him to give to Shadowheart to aid in her recovery this morning. Whether Tara knows Gale’s intentions or not — and as little of a fan she is of unexpected visitors — she has always wanted him to find companionship beyond her own.

There is likely no man better prepared than him to wake up with a beautiful woman in his home, really. And yet, Gale still finds his hands shaking as he prepares the tea pot, as soon as he hears sleepy footsteps shuffling from the room above.

When Shadowheart descends the staircase she is still a picture of beauty as she was last night, but in a different way. Last night when Gale first saw her across the ballroom floor she was an image of elegance; with her hair loose across her shoulders, cascading into a black, calf-length gown the likes of which Gale had never imagined seeing Shadowheart in before. This morning, she has clearly helped herself to the bath and wardrobe in the guest room that Gale was hoping she would — not because he would imagine she smelled poorly, by any means, but because he wants her to feel comfortable in his home — as her hair is once again falling across her shoulders, this time wet and unruly. She wears a big, fluffy robe and matching grey slippers, likely brought here at some point by Morena Dekarios. She looks beautiful somehow still, and makes Gale feel woefully overdressed.

“I’m quite a fan of your tower, Gale,” Shadowheart says as she trots down the last of the steps and into the main room that leads into the kitchen, her eyes darting around everywhere. She was much too inebriated last night to take in much of anything, and appears to be making up for lost time now. “It’s much less gaudy than Astarion’s place.”

Gale chuckles, thinking to himself that gaudy was the exact word he kept thinking last night when he looked at the *throne* and some of the suits on the nobles their friends were wooing. “Good morning, Shadowheart. That’s very kind of you.” He hesitates, watching the way Shadowheart’s eyes drift over a painting his mother did many years ago of the Chionthar. “But I’m sure Astarion will reign in his gaudiness eventually. He’s only just tasted freedom, after all.”

Shadowheart’s eyes finally meet Gale’s, and his heart sinks at the unexpected glare she sends him from across the room. “Of course you would defend him over such silly things,” she says, her tone suddenly cold. “I suspected as much.”

Gale feels his body bristle despite his calm position against the kitchen counter, not having expected Shadowheart to be so immediately hostile. He suspected some unrest between her and Astarion last night at the party, but not to the extent that she would be taking it out on Gale, as well.

“Astarion is our friend, Shadowheart,” Gale says, trying to maintain a light tone.

She shakes her head. “Your friend,” she says. “And Willow’s… whatever he is.” Her scowl softens after a moment, and Shadowheart steps forward again towards Gale in the kitchen. He beckons her to the teapot lying on the countertop, still steaming hot, and she even offers him a small, albeit sheepish smile.

“You know, I didn’t even know those two were together again,” Gale mutters as he pulls two mugs out of his cupboard — as if he has not already drank two cups of coffee while he was waiting for her to rise. “He only writes me about his palace renovations.”

Shadowheart snorts, and watches as Gale pours green tea into both of the matching ceramic yellow mugs. “Sometimes I wish Willow and I still only talked about the best wines we’ve found in barrels lately,” she says quietly, her voice hoarse. “But I want her to be happy.”

She takes the first mug filled with tea, and sits herself down in Gale’s favorite spot in his living room — the chaise nestled in the corner of the room with a large eastern window behind it, with sun shining in for the perusing of a tome or an interesting book. Absent of any pages in her hands, the sun merely dances over Shadowheart’s platinum hair and the pale skin of her neck as she tips her head back to take the first big sip of her tea.

Gale takes his own mug into his hands and sits down in the less favorable spot across from her, in his old yet comfortable couch. “Is she happy?” He asks her, out of his own curiosity about Willow. She definitely seemed happy to him, just as Shadowheart did last night, but all of this sudden anger is making him wonder if he is simply bad at reading other people’s emotions.

“Well,” Shadowheart says with a sigh, shuffling her body on the chaise. “I think so, but I— I don’t trust him.” She bites at her lip, looking down into her tea before meeting Gale’s gaze again with a humored smirk. “I know they are having plenty of sex. Which is more than I can say for myself.”

“Oh,” Gale says, unable to muster up any other form of immediate reaction. That is definitely not the type of subject matter him and Astarion have been sharing in the letters they write to each other. “How long have you known about their… little reunion?”

Shadowheart rolls her eyes, and takes another small sip of her tea. “I think I’ve thought enough about Willow and Astarion to last me at least until next tenday. Why don’t we talk about something else?”

Gale wants to discuss something else with her. His intention is not to discuss Willow and Astarion all day — not at all. But he has no idea what to talk about with her.

“Of course,” he offers, shrugging his shoulders. “What do you think of the tea?”

“It’s wonderful,” she says simply, hugging her mug to her chest. “Thank you.”

A moment of silence passes between them — or rather, a moment of nothing but the sounds of sipping their tea from mugs. Shadowheart shuffles the way that her legs are positioned on the chaise once again, and Gale cannot remember her ever being so restless before; that was more Karlach’s thing.

Her statement about their two friends having more sex than she can say for herself replays within Gale’s mind in the emptiness, as unnecessary as it was to add to the conversation. She wouldn’t have said something so obvious — would she? In naught but a robe in his living room?

If anything, Gale wishes she could make it *more* obvious. He can imagine her climbing on top of him to thank him for that tea, allowing all of that lush hair to fall over his shoulders instead of hers. He wants her to do the work, here, even though they are in his home.

And yet, as he considers all of these hopes, Gale’s mug of green tea runs dry and the sun reaches a midpoint in the sky; Shadowheart slept in later than he did, and there is only so much of the day left. She will certainly see herself out, should they reach late afternoon into evening. He only has so much time.

“You know, Shadowheart,” Gale begins, clearing his throat when his first three words don’t come out as clearly as he would like, “I know a thing or two about being… neglectful of one’s own pleasure.”

“Do you, Gale?” Shadowheart responds, taking on an argumentative tone once again. Her body stiffens, as if she is ready to stand up and leave — not what he wants, of course. “I’m not interested in having some long conversation about—“

“Not a conversation,” Gale interrupts, holding out the hand not holding his mug, as if in invitation. Shadowheart raises her eyebrows, and her body relaxes slightly back into the chaise. “Rather, a suggestion to show you the full extent of my hospitality.”

At first, Shadowheart’s mouth gapes and no sound escapes her. She stares back at Gale, unblinking and unreadable, sending his heart racing, fluttering in a way he has not known in years. The courtship of Mystra was different, because it wasn’t really a courtship, it was — well, too much to get into.

Finally, Shadowheart smiles. “I’m listening.”

Shadowheart — Part Two: Euphoria

When Shadowheart first laid eyes on Gale at Astarion and Willow’s party, she had been quite intent on laying into him in regard to his good friend’s intentions with her good friend. Gale is not the only person who remained on good terms with Astarion after him and Willow’s breakup — Shadowheart is the only one who cut him off completely, only communicating with him when absolutely necessary — but seeing him in the ballroom was proof enough that he must know something of what has been going on between the vampire lord and Shadowheart’s best friend.

Gale’s eyes met hers across the room and she returned his bright smile with a raise of her goblet before making a beeline for him, anticipating starting an argument with him on sight, but the man Shadowheart spoke to at the party was the same charmingly clueless wizard she always knew months ago. He spoke of his students at Blackstaff, and receiving a sudden invitation from Astarion after only writing each other brief and infrequent letters about work for months. Gale had no idea Astarion was even dating Willow again; he just knew she was going to be at the party to perform.

His tower in Waterdeep is a perfect reflection of that wizard she knows — except more charming than clueless. Even in the guest room the walls are lined with tomes, and though that room smells of dust from how untouched it is — Shadowheart knows Gale spent a long time secluded before they were abducted — the kitchen now smells bright with the scent of the green tea Shadowheart holds in the mug in her hands, which has given her just enough energy this morning to accept his offer of hospitality.

Gale nearly falls over with shock when she indicates her acceptance, as if he never actually intended to get this far. His eyes widen and his mouth opens to speak, but nothing comes out. Truthfully, Shadowheart is unsurprised — it’s unlike him to be so bold in the first place, suggesting such a thing with seemingly no plan, so he now seems to be struggling to come up with his next move.

“Tressym got your tongue?” She teases him, before gulping down the last of the hot tea. “That’s not very hospitable of you, Gale.”

“My apologies,” he says immediately, fully apologetic. Enough that Shadowheart almost feels bad, despite obviously having been joking.

The way he looks when he apologizes is enthralling, knowing what he has just offered her. Shadowheart was so distracted last night by her own feelings towards Astarion and Willow that she didn’t even notice the way that Gale’s hair has grown out even a bit longer than it was before, and how he has half of it pulled back now from his face — was it like that last night? His lips are pouted, wet with either green tea or saliva, she cannot be sure, but they look soft enough to kiss. Softer than the last lips Shadowheart tried to kiss, who told her that she misread the signs, we were only ever just friends—

Shadowheart leans back into her chaise, the seat she chose in Gale’s living room because it looked the most plush and comfortable. Her legs, crossed beneath her robe until now, come apart with a hint of space between them as she stretches herself out comfortably. If he wants to be bold, she will invite him to lead.

“Show me, then,” she invites him, her voice coming out breathier than even she expects it to. “And maybe I’ll return the favor.”

Gale’s eyes flicker down to her body, only briefly before they snap back up to meet her gaze once again as if he’s embarrassed that he ever took the offer she put out in front of him to view her like this.

“Are you quite sure?” He asks her, as he sets his mug down on the table beside his seat. Regardless of his question he begins to stand, brushing non-existent debris off of his pants. The height of him above her makes Shadowheart want to squeeze her legs together — a reaction she has never had to seeing Gale before, to be honest — but she keeps herself still, knowing there will be arousal pooling for him to feel if he can get far enough.

“I’m only sure about enjoying your generosity, so far,” Shadowheart says with an easy shrug, loosening the ties on her bathrobe herself. “We’ll have to see about anything else.”

Gale places a hand over his heart as he stands above her, looming over the foot of her seat. Goosebumps form one by one over Shadowheart’s skin, hidden underneath the thick robe still covering her body, and she says a silent prayer that they will dissipate before the fabric must come off.

“All I ask is for you to enjoy yourself,” Gale murmurs, holding her gaze still rather than touching her. There is a look of earnestness in his eyes; the recognizable expression of her friend, and someone she can trust. It feels strange to be in this position with him, but magnetic all the same. In the moment of silence that passes between them the air feels thick to Shadowheart, waiting for him to change his mind or chicken out. But he doesn’t.

The first movement of his body against hers is one with conviction — albeit a bit of clumsiness. Gale’s knee slips between hers, just as it is supposed to, but pinches her skin in the process. The sharp intake of breath into Shadowheart’s lungs as his mouth first touches hers is both from pleasure, from a tiny bit of pain, and from the hilarity of this entire thing. A net positive, probably.

Their hands both find each others hair in the seconds after their lips touch; Gale with one gentle set of fingers weaving into the hairs at the back of her head, and Shadowheart with a ferocity unexpected even by her as she grips the updo at the back of his with both of her hands, pulling him into her. Every single delicious scent she has encountered since entering the tower is amplified as they touch each other, wafting straight into her nostrils — tea, book pages, lavender soap and linens — as he kisses her with a gentle yet needy kind of touch, leaving her wanting for more the very second he pulls away.

“Was that alright?” He whispers, not pulling their hands away from each other as he holds his face only inches away from hers.

“Yes, Gale,” Shadowheart says quickly, allowing some annoyance to creep into her tone despite being so close to him. “I may not be a goddess, but I’m tough enough that I would tell you if it wasn’t.”

Gale frowns, and this time, he does pull his hand out from her hair as he inches backward; not leaving her embrace completely or getting up from the chaise on top of her, but pulling his face away enough that Shadowheart can no longer feel what she now knows was the comforting warmth of his breath and his body heat all around her.

“It’s not about being… tough, Shadowheart,” he chuckles, clearly a bit uncomfortable. Gale stares at her for another second, the endless thoughts that she knows swirl around his brain clearly doing their work, until he smiles. “And quite frankly I would disagree to the point that you are no goddess. I would know!” He exclaims dramatically, placing the hand that was in her hair on her thigh to support himself, unknowingly causing a shiver through her body. “I want to give you the touch you are deserving of. But I will stop asking, if you would like.”

A wave of embarrassment passes through Shadowheart at the realization that she misread what he was asking; he was not simply checking if she felt safe, but if she was enjoying herself. And she was, yet she still interrupted it.

“Well,” she mutters, trying not to let on to her own embarrassment but struggling to find any words. She tugs once again at the ties of her robe, but they are partially stuck beneath Gale’s body. “You may continue your worship, then.”

Gale’s smile takes a wicked turn — something of a sly but still sweet expression she has never seen from him before — as his hand creeps up her thigh, covering the ties on the robe himself. “It would be my pleasure to worship you.”

Shadowheart lies back into the chaise, closing her eyes and focusing on the feeling of his touch rather than the sight of her friend touching her. His fingers first deftly pull at the loosely tied robe, and she feels a chill run across her body as her skin is slowly revealed to the air and to his fingertips. Gale sighs as he slides his hands slowly up, up from her thighs to her hips, allowing the fabric to fall away from each part of her as he does.

She did not picture this when she rose from the bath this morning and neglected to put anything on beneath this robe. She did not picture anything at all; she merely did not want to re-wear the tight undergarments she wore under her formal dress last night. But this is good. This could be a dream.

Shadowheart nearly gasps when she feels the touch of his lips just below her stomach, but the noise comes out as merely a choke. She soothes Gale’s expected question before he has a chance to ask it. “That’s the kind of hospitality I was hoping for, Gale of Waterdeep.”

His chuckle reverberates across her skin, low and deep as he plants slow kisses down her body. The way his hands hold her hips as he performs his dance is romantic, just as everything he has done so far is; taking her home when she was too drunk to guarantee her own safety, providing her with a warm bed and hot bath and making her remedial tea in the morning. Gale is a gentleman — something Shadowheart is not quite used to experiencing, if she is to be honest. Not that she can remember most of the experiences she has had.

Without another word from his usually incessant mouth, Shadowheart feels those soft lips creep closer down between her thighs. She opens her legs across the seat they lie in, dropping one of her feet against the floor and hooking the other atop his back, inviting him in without using any words of her own, either. He touches across the mound between her thighs, his fingers spreading her open to the air of the living room as his lips trail across the most sensitive part of her right thigh, until—

Euphoria.

“Gale,” Shadowheart mutters his name involuntarily as her eyes flutter open to the sight of him; soft brown hair between her thighs as his tongue delves into her folds. Every nerve ending comes alive, sending shockwaves of pleasure down to her toes and making her body act of its own accord, arching into him before she even has a chance to gasp for breath.

His response is a moan and a desperate grasp at her hips, pulling her further into his mouth but not losing the practiced touch of his tongue. Gale laps at her like a man starved, but like one who knows exactly what he is doing and how to please her at the same time.

Shadowheart feels him remove one of his hands from her hips, and she whimpers with anticipation before she feels the entrance of his fingers next. The pads of his fingers brush slowly, expertly against her spot as his lips close around her clit, suckling at her with perfect rhythm. It’s been so long since she’s been touched like this, since someone put such care into pleasuring her like this, that within what feels like seconds of his fingers entering her she feels herself reaching a fevered peak — too soon. Much too soon.

Still, Shadowheart grips each side of the soft chaise, digging her fingernails into it and her heel into Gale’s back as she reaches the edge. This time, she says his name on purpose, knowing the sound of it will inspire his ministrations. “Gale,” she murmurs, so lost in her stupor that she does not have to worry about the strangeness of saying her friend’s name in this way, “I’m so close.” Each touch of his fingers inside of her brings her closer and closer until all of the pressure finally bursts, sending rhythmic waves of pleasure across every inch of her body.

It’s a relief and a disappointment at the same time. To be brought to such a magnificent peak, but to be brought to it so quickly. To be touched with so much care by her friend, but to have it end so soon. Shadowheart pants as her orgasm comes to an end, and lowers her hand to touch Gale’s head and pull him away.

His hair is sweaty when her fingers tangle into it, but soft. Gale separates himself from her center almost reluctantly, and looks up with a smile across his face before planting his cheek on her thigh, his chest heaving just as much as hers is. He’s cute, really. Cute enough to kiss.

“You did well,” Shadowheart says with a sigh, trying to sound casual despite the new need gnawing within her at the sight of him like this.

Gale’s eyebrows raise at the slight compliment, a humored expression taking over his face. “I did well? Is that all I get, Shadowheart?”

She considers for a moment, weighing the cost of her own pride within her mind. Less than twenty-four hours ago, she was intent on laying into this man. Ripping him apart with her words, rather than well-placed swings of a morningstar. She did not imagine herself sleeping in his home, coming in his living room, and definitely did not think of herself having sex with him.

But Shadowheart has been denying herself of simple pleasures for far too long.

“Well enough to deserve a reward,” she says, offering him a controlled smile as she toys with his hair, still in her hands, before releasing it from her grasp. Shadowheart shakes the untied bathrobe off of her arms, allowing it to drape across the back of the chaise and freeing her body of any clothing. She was already practically naked beforehand, but now she is completely bare for him.

“And what would that be?” Gale asks her, his eyes widening, though he does not move his head from his place against her thigh.

Shadowheart pretends to consider it for a moment, tapping a finger against her chin and gazing up at the ceiling. It’s an adorned ceiling, she realizes for the first time, with beautiful and complex artwork carved into the wood to create stars and planets, and depictions of different types of arcana. Very Gale.

“I think,” she says, returning her fingers to his hair, just to feel the softness of it once again, “you’ve done very well.” Shadowheart trails her thumb down his cheek, tracing around his lips until she can pull down at the soft skin at the bottom. “How would you like to have me on top of you? Until we’re both quite satisfied?”

Gale’s wide-eyed, curious expression perks up at her words, his face finally leaving the cradle of her thigh. The bottom of his face is coated in arousal, though he does not seem to mind as he rises onto his knees from his previously splayed position.

“That sounds rather enchanting,” he says with a little grin, clearly trying to keep himself contained just as Shadowheart is — though she hopes she is doing a more convincing job of it. “Would you care to move to the bed?”

Shadowheart’s heart tumbles at the thought, something that had not even occurred to her as she spread herself for him right here in the living room. When she spoke the words aloud she pictured herself taking him right here on the chaise, digging her knees into his hips to keep them both steady; but a real bed is just up the stairs.

“Seems appropriate,” she says with a shrug. “Lead on.”

Gale stands, removing the warmth of his body from hers completely, and as Shadowheart pulls her back up from her seat he holds out his hand to her with his palm out. “You were a bit off center going up last night, if I recall,” he says.

Flashes of her drunkenness return to Shadowheart’s mind, but not many of them. Did she hold his hand? Did she fall on the stairs? She eyes his hand for a second as he continues to extend it to her, unsure whether or not to accept to invitation, but ultimately the desire to feel that warmth once again wins out. Shadowheart allows her hand to be surrounded within his, and herself to be pulled up from her seat by Gale.

They scurry up the winding stairs together, which seem endless in this wizards tower. They pass by the door for the guest room where she left this morning and nearly fall into the door on the next level before Gale can throw it open, revealing his actual bedroom to her.

It looks even cozier than the living room downstairs, with heavy curtains over the windows and atop the canopy bed frame. Just as everywhere else in the house there are full bookshelves lining the walls and places to throw oneself down and read or take notes, with a grand desk on one side of the room. There are many sights to focus on, but for now, Gale pulls her only towards one: the bed.

“Take off your clothes,” Shadowheart commands, wrestling her hand loose from his grasp. Despite her bare skin, he is still noticeably well-dressed this morning, and right now it appears to be the only barrier between the two of them and what they are about to do on that bed.

Gale strips himself of his clothes gingerly, throwing his vest and his shirt over his head first and following them with his pants across the floor. It would be a shame to see the clothes go, were his body not so beautiful on its own — the outfit was rather cute.

“Lie back and let me see it,” Shadowheart instructs him, leaning against the post at the foot of his large bed. It’s luxurious, with silk sheets and soft blankets messily strewn across it as if he simply threw himself out of bed this morning, so eager to rise.

Gale follows the order easily, gently resting his back against the center of the bed. With his legs spread wide and no clothes to hide it anymore, his arousal for Shadowheart is unmistakable.

Slick already drips from the tip of his engorged cock, standing straight up as if just waiting to be taken into her body. Shadowheart takes one step, then another, before bending her knee to pull herself onto the bed and wrapping one hand around his length. Gale doesn’t make a sound but his knee jerks open wider, inviting her to join him.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Shadowheart asks him, confirming one more time as she gets her body into position. She places her knees on either side of Gale’s hips, allowing the head of his raging erection to rest against her stomach as she awaits his answer.

“It would be an honor,” Gale responds, placing his hands on her legs in response, locking her into place on top of him. The confidence of his touch is even more enticing to Shadowheart than his precious bits of nervousness and excitement, and she cannot help but to smile back at him from above as she lifts herself up with her knees.

The first stretch of her entrance upon taking Gale in is harsh, and Shadowheart takes a moment to breathe and to allow him to savor the feeling of his tip inside of her as she adjusts to the feeling. He’s not huge, but he’s thick, and it’s been a moment for her since she has had actual sex.

“I never thought we’d be doing this,” Gale murmurs, cutting through the silence of the moment. One of the hands on Shadowheart’s hip gives her a squeeze, and he closes his eyes for a brief second. “By the gods, you feel magnificent.”

Shadowheart laughs, feeling her face flush with heat at the compliment despite the fact that his cock is inside of her. She nudges him deeper, just enough to feel the same pleasure she felt with his fingers downstairs, only magnified by the size of his tip and the heat of his slick; pure, powerful pleasure. Skin against skin, silk against her legs on the bed, and the sounds of little breaths escaping Gale’s lungs with each push of her hips — all of it makes their moment right now even better than before.

Gale offers up one of his knees as she rocks herself back and forth, allowing Shadowheart to lean back as she loses herself within the feeling once more. His hands migrate up from her hips to her waist and for a second she feels a sense of disappointment, until the pads of his thumbs graze across the sensitive buds of her nipples on her next downstroke, only to lose their reach on her next movement upwards. It makes her throw her head back with a noise akin to a moan of pleasure and a groan of displeasure at the same time.

“Come all the way down, then,” he commands her, putting his hands back down to her hips. Without even thinking, and without even glaring at him through her slack-jawed expression, Shadowheart obeys, dropping herself down fully onto his cock.

It’s a shock at first to take him all the way in; she had not been prepared fully to stop teasing him. But Gale sighs as she does, and his thumbs return to their place against her breasts, rolling waves of ecstasy across her body. She takes him in to the hilt, feeling the way he fills her body and then dragging him back out so that he still brushes against her spot, before falling back down and doing it again, growing faster each time until she’s panting out tiny breaths on top of him. He never stops his ministrations for a second despite the enraptured look on his face, and yet Shadowheart still finds herself wanting for more from him.

“Like this again,” she gasps out to him, taking his hands into hers and redirecting them back down to her hips before falling forward, hovering her face over his. “Deeper, Gale.”

A look of confusion passes over his face for only a second before Gale seems to understand the request, gripping at her hips like his life depends on it. Shadowheart spreads her legs even further on top of him, shifting the way she rolls her hips to allow the head of his cock to hit somehow deeper each time she slides downward, mixing pain in with her pleasure.

Without having to prompt him, Shadowheart feels the touch of Gale’s lips against her neck as she is lost in the new sensations between them. His soft lips suckle at the skin of her neck just as they did between her legs, with sweetness and warmth. A moment later, she feels the familiar build within her abdomen — her second peak rising within her belly, ready to crash over her.

Before she can give Gale any word of warning, it’s him who whimpers the words into her neck. “I’m close,” he says, barely audible with his lips still pressed into her skin. He sounds desperate, needy, and absolutely seconds away from coming undone — he sounds beautiful beneath her.

In the moment all Shadowheart can think about is the divine timing of both of them unraveling at the same time, and how awful it would be to allow that to go to waste. She brings her hand up to his head, holding him against her as she kisses the sweaty top of his hair. “Do it with me,” is all she says to him, granting him permission with no other explanation for it. There will be time for specifics later, but all there is right now is euphoria, once again.

The feeling of his cock twitching against her walls is the final act needed to push Shadowheart over the edge, sending her reeling as his heated climax pours out of him. Gale’s moans sound into her neck, muffled but reckless, and his hands grip hard enough that she knows they’ll leave marks for days, and she won’t mind. She rides wave after wave of pleasure, finishing for herself even after Gale has been spent and his arms collapse against the bed. She presses her forehead into his hair, breathing in the scent of him again and again with each ragged breath as she takes in every single wicked feeling, knowing both that this is the best sex she can ever remember having and that she’ll likely never feel it again.

Shadowheart does not want to look at his face right away after they are both finished, lying on top of him in a newly silent room. Will he ever look at her the same way? The way he’s looked at her since they first became friends — or at least, the semblance of friends, bound together at first only by the tadpoles in their heads and late nights trading watch shifts at the campfire — with those earnest brown eyes, full of curiosity and enthusiasm no matter how tired he was. This could change everything.

“That was, um,” the feeling of Gale’s voice against her neck once more breaks the silence in the room, pulling Shadowheart straight out of her troubling thoughts. “Unexpected,” he says, breathless, “Are you certain that was alright?”

Gale’s immediate worries being so different from her own makes Shadowheart laugh, and lessens some of the heaviness in her heart. If the thoughts occupying his brain are on such a different path, maybe she need not be so worried at all about a sudden shift in their friendship. Maybe she should enjoy this for what it is, for once, knowing no one can take this memory away from her.

“Oh, you are very cute,” Shadowheart sighs, shifting her body downward to be able to see his face once again. He is cute, even as his brows furrow with concern over the amount of seed she can feel making its way out of her. She takes her hand to his face and offers him a soft touch against his cheek, wanting to relieve at least some of the strange worry in those brown eyes. “We happen to have an excellent connection for potions to handle this exact situation,” she whispers to him, trying not to laugh even more as she does.

Gale stares back at her quizzically for a second, until the use of the word we seems to register. “Dear gods,” he groans, throwing his head back against the pillow with his own fit of laughter, which radiates from his chest down through his abdomen. Somehow, despite the way he laughs so freely, it almost seems to Shadowheart as if Gale is trying to keep their bodies pressed as closely together as he can; trying to stay within the warmth of each other for as long as he can.

As soon as their laughter passes, Shadowheart feels his body shift underneath her and thinks that this must be the end of their moment in his bed. Everything must come to a close eventually, she knows, and she has likely already overstayed her welcome as a quick romp by laying on top of him like this for so long. Hells, she is still questioning the decision to allow him to come inside of her; not because it didn’t feel good — it felt very, very good — but because that feels like a boundary too intimate to come back from for a friendship.

With a clearing of his throat, Gale pulls his now softened length out of her body and quickly covers them both with a blanket from one side of the bed. His arms settle around her body, rather than the pushing away she had expected, and when Shadowheart turns her chin up to look at him, Gale’s eyes are closed.

“I know, I know,” he says, his voice gruff; but a smile pulls up at one end of his lips. “I may be an arch mage, but I am only a man,” he opens one eye to look at her, with a glint of tired playfulness, “care to rest with me?”

In her chest, Shadowheart feels her heart squeeze with warmth at the thought. When was the last time she slept with someone after having sex with them? She has never done such a thing that she can remember, but maybe she did before. It seems such a simple thing, but there is something so wholly sweet about it.

“That depends. What are the chances that we can do any of that again if I stay?”

Gale’s little smile grows, and he closes his eyes again. “As I said — I am just a man. And I am eager to please.” One of the hands that rests across her body reaches downward, finding purchase in the skin of her hip and giving her a squeeze, just as he did while he was inside of her.

Shadowheart rests her head against Gale’s chest with no plans to sleep since she already stayed in bed so late, but just to enjoy the feeling of being so close to him. She has no idea what she’s doing, what they are doing together or where this could go — but she thinks that for once she could stand to enjoy something as it is. And if Gale is true to his word about pleasing her again if she stays, maybe Shadowheart will be the one cancelling plans with Willow next tenday in favor of more Waterdhavian hospitality.

graphics credit || find me on ao3 || let me know if you have a bg3 blog and I’ll fb! (-:

Special thank you to amidtheflowers on ao3 for giving me the idea to write hospitality & Nessa on tumblr for accidentally giving me the title 💜

[jennay]

Tension

Request:

misc 4 with enemies to lovers reader and jamie when they're at the same party at jamie's friend place and they're arguing about something or just can't stand each other lol and then somehow they end up smoking together outside or whatever you come up with!! and they also end up kissing because that's all they really want<3 you can change whatever you don't like or if you have something different in mind of course!<33

Master List

word count: 1540

Hope you enjoy :)

House parties haven't been your scene in years. The last one you went to, you were twenty-five, ending in chaos you will never forget. You showed up because Amanda, your cousin, and her boyfriend Daniel invited you and threatened to bring the party to your house if you didn't.

Arriving, you searched high and low for Amanda but didn't find her. The blond was highly social and could be anywhere in the crowd. You weren't willing to weave in and out of the sea of people to find her.

Instead, you find yourself walking to the fridge and grabbing a beer. You lean against the counter, now scrolling through your phone, hoping that Daniel or Amanda will eventually spot you.

"Well, well, well...You made it." You hear an all too familiar voice say. "I wondered if you'd show."

Your eyes drift from your phone screen and land on the man in front of you. Smirking, you say, "Wouldn't miss a chance to see my favorite Bower." You open your arms and give Sam a tight hug.

Sam releases you from his tight squeeze and adjusts his beanie. "Have you seen him yet?" His sneaky smile makes you roll your eyes.

Of course, Jamie is here. Daniel promised you he wouldn't invite him, but you should've known he would invite his best friend. Your lips and nose scrunch together like the idea of being in the same room as Jamie makes you sick. "Nah!" You yell over the loud music. "I don't plan on looking for him either."

Sam nods, "That's fair." He leans forward, his lips close to your ear, "You want to go sit on the deck? It's not as loud out there, and I think the last I saw Amanda was in the hot tub taking shots with a few stragglers." He laughs.

You follow closely behind Sam; him being taller than you makes it easier to push through the crowd. When you see Amanda, she is drunk in the hot tub, taking a shot with Daniel and another friend you haven't met.

Amanda's gaze rises to yours, and she brightly smiles. "Get in the hot tub!" She stands up, waving you over with her hands. "No, thanks. I'm fully dressed." You say, pointing to your clothes. "I'm not drunk enough to get naked. Besides, I'm hanging out with Sam."

"That would be a sight to see..."

You swiftly turn around, already annoyed by the voice behind you. "Not a sight you'll ever see." You take a swig of your drink and walk by Jamie without another word.

"Darling, most of us have already seen the view. You're not special." He chides.

You briefly stop turning your head and look back at him. A laugh of disbelief escaped your lips, "You should watch it. Don't forget I know about your LITTLE secret." Your eyes drop to his pants, and you sarcastically smile. "I'm probably not the last woman you disappointed, but I guess I was the first." You open the sliding glass door, and instantly the music pours into your ears. You feel Jamie following you, but you don't give a shit. When he catches up to you, he grabs you by your wrist and drags you to the staircase.

"What's your problem?" He asks, getting close to your face. "You disappeared from my life! I should be the one mad at you!"

You sit down on the stairs, knowing he wouldn't let this go. How he didn't remember one of your life's most heartbreaking days was unbearable.

You remember it clearly, and till this day, when you think about it, it still stung.

Jamie invited you to his band practice knowing that you would go. You were a supportive friend, and you were always there for Jamie, just as he was for you.

You excused yourself from the room to take an important phone call when he decided to announce to his bandmates that you were his little puppy and would follow him where ever he asked you to go and do whatever he wanted. He told them you were practically glued to his side since he took your virginity. He failed to mention that you also took his, but in his bandmate's eyes, Jamie talked about his sexual encounters so often; it never occurred to them he could be lying.

Jamie wasn't a player; as a matter of fact, he was incredibly loyal to you. He wanted to be your boyfriend, but you told him you wanted time to think about it and that you’d give him an answer that night. You knew you would say yes, but after hearing what he said, you couldn't stand the idea of him being your boyfriend, let alone your best friend. You left without saying anything to him and tried your best to push memories of him out of your mind.

You pitied him when he’d show up at your house, and you'd ignore him. You blocked him from your social media and did not once reach out to him. You had a hard time trusting anyone after that. If your best friend could hurt you that bad, then what could an actual lover do to you? What could another friend do? You locked your heart away and threw away the key, not wanting to feel that pain ever again.

"You're an idiot." You stand up and head to the front floor, and Jamie still follows you, feeling that he needs more from you. When you open the front door, you don't bother closing it, knowing he's still trailing behind you. It takes everything in you not to turn around and scream for him to leave you the fuck alone.

"Can you just tell me what I did?" He stops your car door from opening by leaning against it.

His eyes sadly search yours seeking something that you don't want to give. He looks like you hurt him; how it switches to making you feel guilty.

"I fell in love with you, Jamie, and you treated me like a pet." You tilt your head to the sky; you can't believe you're explaining this. "I fell for you all because you weren't like every other guy, and in the end, you turned out to be just like every other guy I knew. You wanted to have sex with me, brag about it to all your friends, and tell everyone I was a dog and I would do anything and everything you wanted." Your eyes water from remembering how shitty you felt that day. “You were everything to me, Jamie!”

“I never meant to hurt you." He runs his fingers through his hair; closing his eyes, he says, "I loved you then, and I love you now.” His eyes softly open, “I didn’t mean it. If I knew I would lose you for the rest of my adult life. I wouldn't have said a damn thing. It was shitty and disrespectful. I don't know; back then, I thought they would think it was cool or funny."

You light a cigarette, offering Jamie one in the process. You stand next to him and lean against your car, also. You can feel him staring at you even though your eyes are on the ground. When he doesn't stop, you finally meet his gaze. He's intently watching your every movement. You can see love in his eyes, a softness that only happens with you. His eyes wander to your lips watching ever word you say.

You smirk at him, "You wanna kiss me so badly, it makes you look stupid."

Jamie, caught off guard, chuckles, "Well, you're going to look really stupid when you like it."

You exhale the smoke from your lungs, "Who says I'll like it? It's been nearly seven years.”

Jamie puts his cigarette out and sets it to the side. “I've grown and matured, love. I'm not that shy insecure boy anymore.” He brings his hand to your waist, pulling you closer to him. His free hand travels up your shoulder, landing behind your neck and caressing your head. He leans down, and you tilt your head back, waiting for him to make his move. His nose touches yours, and he smiles with amusement. His lips press firmly against yours, and your body relaxes under his touch. Your arms travel up his sides, and your hands tighten around Jamie's biceps. He pushes you against the car, continuing to kiss up and down your neck.

"Really, (Y/N)?" Sam's voice calls from the porch.

Jamie pulls away from you, letting you regain your balance; you share laughter briefly. Jamie rests his hands on your cheeks and roughly presses his lips to yours again. "So, you don't look stupid. You actually look incredibly adorable."

Sam has now made his way to the two of you. "I'm not your favorite Bower anymore, am I?"

Jamie laughs, gently pushing his hand to Sam's shoulder, "You were never the favorite; you were only keeping my spot warm."

Giggling, you say, “You’re not off the hook yet, Jamie. You've got a lot of making up to do, smartass... Until then, Sam will be the only Bower in this heart.”

[vesicapiscean]

long dream post

another really strange and way too lucid dream when I took a nap just now. EARLY in the dream, mom had used my yeast to make some bread but she did it soooo wrong but she was like made a million loaves of bread but with a lot of dough left over? and she was like dont touch anything in there!!! I was upset becasue I was planning on making a special loaf with it for the celebration this weekend. so i was like. then my sisters showed up and they were like “dude i’m pissed. its only 2 and all the adults are already drunk and i want to go home” so i was like talking to them and comforting them. One of them started popping a bottle of champagne and I was like are you crazy, thats what made you so upset the first time and no im not going to drink that. but then I felt bad for shooting her down so I had a glass.

Throughout the dream I had the feeling like I was in class and I had an assignment due (I fell asleep in the middle of doing homework). but I was in some highly collegiate professors house and I felt like i was being tested or a part of some sort of trial. the thing that made me think it was a test being put on by someone was because there was a guy who was older and i felt like he was one of my teachers, and he was asking me so many nonsensical and irrelevant questions it felt SO WEIRD like an interview for a job with some kind of strange backstory I didnt know about and he had this girl like a young sharp professional girl following him around and being one step ahead of him on everything. then something weird happened where he opened up this staircase that came down from the ceiling and was a lot like a climbing thing at a kids park like made of ropes. the girl followed him up there and then fell through it and landed on her face on the floor. so then i went to her and was like “are you okay? that was inappropriate and dangerous im sorry you had to go through that” and she left. then another girl came in with her family and they spoke another language or at least were from a foreign country and she seemed to replace the first girl and she was upset over something going on with her family so i was talking to her and comforting her.

then when she left a group of like 4 kids from a nonverbal tribal foreign place were there amongst a bunch of other kids. and they were confusing me and trying to ask me things and i was trying to be gentle with them but they were kinda crazy. and all the kids were fighting and blaming each other for stuff and i was trying to calm everyone down. while this was happening I got a text from a guy i used to know saying "hey when can we squeeze in a time to play one last game together" and before I got a chance to text back he was like "oh nevermind. I can see that youre going through something" or something along those lines.

back to the kids, I couldnt figure out how to comfort all of them at the same time, i ended up spraying everyone with a hose and being like OKAY. NOW EVERYONES WET. WHAT SHOULD WE DO. so i made sure that everyone had a towel and then i was like ok everyone. take your towel and dry up you face and hair really fast and crazy! and now stand up and dry off your body! great job!

this is the crazy part i just remembered. there were two adult disabled dudes living next door across a fence, cause all this was taking place in the professors back yard. and i was like do you guys know what's going on? and they were like yeah, hes always doing stuff like this. and i was like asking them more about it and one of them who had a really messed up face was like “do you want the embarrassing truth or what he usually tells people” AND THEN I WOKE UP

[bowie-byers]

Thread History: Season 2 Rewrite

Jonathan Byers x Steve Harrington @soemotional

Season 2 Rewrite: Thread #1 - "Episode 1: Tina's Halloween Party"

TW: Alcohol

Jonathan Byers:

Jonathan didn't want to come in the first place. Truly, he didn't. Per Nancy's hypothesis - "listening to the talking heads and reading Vonnegut" would be much more entertaining than watching a mob of sweaty bodies get 'sheet-faced' at Tina's house. The party itself was everything you'd expect a grimy house party to be. Corey Hart's synth heavy I Wear Sunglasses at Night blared from the home speaker system as he watched his classmates grind to MTV's Top 100 of '95. Jonathan's brief (and unsuccessful) interaction with Samantha left him standing awkwardly by the kitchen counter. And as much as his costume made sense, showing up as the guy who hates parties had its drawbacks - the first being that he wearing a sweater and denim overcoat. The layers of fabric coupled with the main floor's sticky fog induced beads of sweat to drip between his back and the orange wool of his crewneck. It was an entirely uncomfortable experience. The biggest pitfall to his costume, however, was the fact that he couldn't recoil under a disguise. Although most people around him were drunk, it was hard not to feel like a complete loser standing by the kitchen island with an untouched solo cup. He was honestly on the verge of leaving before the night took a turn for the worst. It all started with commotion coming down the staircase. He saw Steve blow past him first, trekking down towards the back patio door. It wasn't a good sign. Nancy was soon to follow, stumbling down the stairs a few beats later. Jonathan's fate was sealed as soon as she spotted him. Her request came out in a tearful string of syllables. Nancy was okay but she needed him to drive Steve home - and she didn't want to talk about it further right now. It managed to dull his worry ... Slightly. Nancy made sure to emphasize that Steve lived near his place before slurring an apology and taking off for the front door. It was common knowledge - the Harringtons were his neighbours - but it left Jonathan running a unsteady hand through his hair. While the Harrington residence was nearby the Byers residence, there wasn't time for drunk negotiations right now, especially not if he wanted to pick up Will from his trick-or-treating adventures before curfew.

Jonathan thumbed his solo cup, weighing his options before eventually making his way to the back patio door, cheeks flushing as he met cool October night. A silver moon hung in the sky and casted shadows among the throng of teenagers. Jonathan spotted the back of Steve's head near a group by the communal keg. Fucking fantastic. He tunnel visioned on the task at hand and stalked across the grass with both hands firmly rooted in his pockets. "Hey-" He spoke up, pulling on the shoulder of Steve's leather coat. It's probably the closest he'd been to him since their run-in with the Demogorgon last fall. "I'm your ride home." He noticed drunk bystanders oggling him for the interruption. Seeing a shirtless Billy out of the corner of his eyes only pressed his nerves further. Plus, booze radiating from Steve made him suspect that he wouldn't be interested in leaving just yet. It amplified irritation in Jonathan's tone. "I have to pick up Will before 10pm so it's time to go, Tom Cruise." He lowered his voice, shooting a glance behind himself towards the main house. The jab at Steve's costume was all in good fun but there's no denying that it was an incredibly boring choice - not to mention predictable.

Steve Harrington:

tina's house party was shaping up to be the best night of the year! steve harrington's senior year was really shaping up to be one of the greatest, he had the girl, he had the popularity, and all of the craziness from last fall had finally seemed to fizzle. he might've been down a tommy h and a carol, but he was up a nancy wheeler, so did it really matter? even that new kid, billy, failed to get under his skin. not tonight, tonight was his. he loved his costume, nance looked great, and neither of them made any effort to pace themselves between the kitchen and the dance floor. it was all great! any thoughts of barb or the discussions nancy and himself had been having about her were long out of mind. that was, until, something happened with nancy's shirt? steve didn't really remember, the room had gotten all spinny about thirty minutes ago. but the next thing he knew, he was in the bathroom, arguing with nancy and struggling to keep up. if there was one thing that cut through his drunken haze though, it was the distinct little like that came before we're in love. steve had to repeat it like it wasn't a karate chop to the gut. before he knew it, nancy was gone, and his feet were carrying him to the backyard. so much for greatest night of the year...now he didn't have nancy, and he didn't have his keg stand record either. well, he could do something about that more immediately. with his hands on his hips, steve did what he did best and tried to raise attention to himself. "listen up party people!" he clapped his hands together and began to walk around in a circle, his one man parade, "i hear my keg king crown has been questioned?" his words slurred, laughing wryly to his audience, "well i say no to that! no! somebody give me a hand!" steve's eyes watched the crowd, wondering who might come forward. a hand yanked at his shoulder and he whipped around, "alright! that's what i'm..." his expression fell, trying to focus on the features of this guys face, "byers?" he murmured. clearly, confused. the pair had a bit of a history, and steve had mostly put it all behind him, until now. maybe it was because he was fresh off getting his heart stomped in the bathroom, but jonathan's very presence felt like a threat. "fuck off man, don't fucking touch me..." he continued with mumbled speech, "don't need a ride home..." steve went to turn around, ready to ignore jonathan until spoke again, more terse this time. steve blew air out of his lips then rolled his eyes as he turned away from the party, "okay, mom." he complained, bumping his shoulder into jonathan's as he walked past him, and through the house. at the foot of the driveway, steve stood with his hands on his hips, "which piece of shit is yours?" man, his vision was getting really blurry.

Jonathan Byers:

Byers. He hated it. He hated the way that Steve said it. Like he was a stranger in his own hometown. Everything about this interaction felt dismissive. The fluster mushroomed down his neck, jaw clenching as Steve knocked him on his escapade back to Tina's house. Maybe he should have left him here. Steve knew how to make a scene, that's for sure.Jonathan swallowed hard, turning on his heel to follow. Was he a fucking toddler? The guy was still a prick regardless of their collective near death experience. Not even shiniest camera replacement on earth could change that. Nancy claimed to love the guy - saw something worthwhile in him, but it wasn’t a secret that love needed to consist of more than spiritless hallway groping. He really couldn't understand why Nancy was drawn to him. Everything about Steve was manufactured – from his clothing down to his personality. Jonathan brushed past Steve at the base of Tina's driveway. “The Ford Galaxie.” He grumbled; gaze narrowing on the rusted hood of his 1971 Ford Galaxie down the block. It remained a mark of his family’s socio-economic status in town. Well-used and disdained. He didn’t check to see if Steve was keeping up as he pattered down the asphalt. He simply sauntered to the driver’s side of his car and unlocked the vehicle. “Careful with the handle.” It was all he said before hopping in the front seat. The latch would probably rip off if the idiot yanked on it hard enough. Most bells and whistles built into the car were on their last leg, anyway. Jonathan’s only confirmation of Steve being in the car was reverb of the opposing door slamming shut.

He didn’t waste time pressing his clutch and brake pedal into the floorboard, accompanied by his key turning into the ignition. “Put your fucking seatbelt on.” He calmly instructed, not bothering to look over at his passenger. Swearing wasn’t characteristic for him. Most of the time he opted to use actual words like an adult. Yet the lingering impatience encouraged it to slip. He occupied himself with the stereo controls on his dash. Jonathan wasn’t even sure if Steve already had his seatbelt on, but he was certain that he didn’t hear the familiar click. The Smith’s tape from earlier picked up where it left off - This Charming Man was a cheerful start for his evening as a taxi driver. Will always requested it for the jangly beat, though the lyrics were sullen. Cryptic and laced with sexual ambiguity characteristic of Morrisey’s storytelling. Perfect to occupy Steve Harrington’s vapid brain for the drive home. Jonathan straightened his wheel and used his mirrors to pull out of the cul-de-sac. He paid particular attention to children bouncing around on the street.

Steve Harrington:

steve harrington knew a thing or two about cars, even inebriated. buddy harrington owned a dealership just outside of town and was a self proclaimed luxury automobile dealer, meaning he skipped town a lot to drive back fancy cars for his fancy customers. long story short, he was instantly able to clock jonathan's car and hummed, "1971" as he got into the front seat, holding the latch. he walked his fingers along the interior as he obnoxiously commented to jonathan, "you know, you could stand to get this hunk of junk detailed." he wasn't trying to be a dick, but he had no idea what else he could even talk about with jonathan byers. the alternative was simple, just don't talk, but he was drunk, and babbling was fairly high up on the agenda. as jonathan told him to put his seatbelt on, steve snickered, "put your fucking seatbelt on." he mocked, clicking the strap into place. "turn this shit off! jeez, you are so predictable, byers." steve whined as some jaunty loner music blasted through the car. everything was still spinning as he turned onto another street. "you're a shitty driver." he complained further, gripping the bottom of his seat. he closed his eyes, trying to shove down his stomach lurching. without any regard for their speed, steve shouted, "pull over!" and began opening his door to take care of his business.

Jonathan Byers:

Jonathan couldn’t initially tell if Steve pointed out the year of his car to be a jerk. The follow-up commentary about the state of his vehicle confirmed that he was, in fact, being an asshole. His only engagement with the trash talk came when Steve pointed out that he should get his car detailed.“No shit.” He responded under his breath – It’s not like he hadn’t thought about it before. Paying for everything was entirely different story. Frankly, the more Steve blabbered and mocked him, the more Jonathan realized that this entire drive was going to feel extremely long. He did his best to ignore – it was better to keep his mouth shut. Last time they got into a fight, it didn’t end terribly for one of them in particular. Jonathan turned down the music slightly to appease his rowdy passenger but kept the same tape going. Nothing in him wanted to fuck around with the stereo right now – he was on a mission. The operation entailed ending this favour to Nancy as fast as possible. So, he continued to brush off Steve’s backseat driving and turned down a few residential streets to get onto the main highway that connected all of Hawkins' polarizing neighborhoods.

Jonathan wasn’t a shit driver. He was actually a really careful driver – and Steve’s sudden demand to pull over kicked his fight or flight response into gear. “Are you serious?” He flung a quick glance over at Steve and then back at the road. Yeah - Steve was obviously drunk, but nothing made him suspect that he was this drunk. It’s not like Jonathan was paying much attention when they were both walking down the driveway earlier. He quickly flicked on his right turning light, checking to see if there was a car behind them before transitioning onto the shoulder of the road. Thankfully it was deserted at this time of night. The only thing around them were stretches of agricultural land and a starlit sky. When he looked back at Steve, he saw that the guy was already trying to open the door. The car hadn’t even come to a full stop yet.“Wait - Steve!” He hissed, coming to a full stop. Steve was already outside by the time Jonathan undid his seatbelt and got out of the car. He bee-lined around the hood to find him spilling his guts into the field. Fuck. Jonathan stood awkwardly on the pavement for a moment. Hearing the dry heaving saw his uneasy expression falter to concern. In any other circumstance Jonathan would be wary of Steve punching his lights out but anxiety sitting in his stomach pushed his feet forward. Jonathan approached the other and crouched down, placing one hand on Steve’s back. His other hand flipped under Steve’s bangs to hold back his hair. “You alright?” He asked, trying to stabilize him.

Steve Harrington:

jonathan byers always bugged steve harrington. his beady little eyes, his worn down clothes, his relationship with nancy. technically they were neighbors, but their families were everything short of friendly. steve recalled going to the grocery store with his mother as a child, he remembered her grabbing his hand and sneering as she passed joyce byers and her boys. it was always more unspoken on his end, until last fall when they physically came to blows, then somehow came together to torch that freaky monster thing. they'd managed to keep their distance, allow things to quiet down over the span of the year. there was a broken camera and a shiny new one between them, and steve was fine drawing the line there. it seemed though, tonight, they wouldn't be able to leave all that behind them. and truth be told? steve didn't want to. his mood had been soured enough by nancy dumping him, that jonathan was unfortunately going to bear the drunken brunt. he'd tried hard over the past year, he really had, to ignore his own urge to scowl, scoff, or tease about jonathan byers. but that was all for nancy. no point in that anymore. then something confusing happened. as he was spewing his stomach into the grass, jonathan followed. steve tried waving the other away considering he couldn't really muster the words to say fuck off. even after his stomach was empty, steve couldn't stop coughing and gagging on his own saliva. the spinning world pleaded for him to get the rest out, but he had nothing left to give. he felt frantic, embarrassed that jonathan was watching him. usually, steve would handle something like this in the privacy of his bathroom, spare the world any hint of weakness or undesirable...ness from steve harrington. that wasn't an option in this case and while his first instinct was to shrug jonathan off of him, he felt oddly comforted by the other. the hand on his back anchored him down and without his bangs obstructing his vision, steve felt like he could breathe. feeling an entirely new type of warm, he eyed jonathan, skeptical. steve swallowed his confusion, then shook his head as he muttered, "i must be like, really fuckin' drunk..." he closed his eyes for a second, then rose to his feet with the help of jonathan. steve still eyed him, cautious and confused. was he supposed to say thank you? instead steve smacked his lips, pretended like he didn't enjoy being held up by jonathan, and asked, "are we like close...?" that's not what he meant to ask, "i mean, do you think we could like, walk...the car is..." he made a vague spinning motion with his hands.

Jonathan Byers:

Jonathan continued to bend down, palm pressing into Steve’s back. I must be like, really fuckin’ drunk. The admission cracked a small smile from him. No shit. “Um – Yeah, I guess a few cups of punch will do that.” Jonathan retracted the hand brushing along Steve’s hairline as he struggled to stand, sweaty bangs flapping back down on his forehead. He supported Steve's frame, locking eyes with him for what was probably the first time since tracking the guy down on Tina’s lawn. He caught something vulnerable in Steve’s gaze – a glint of something entirely human. It differed from the disparaging stare he’d sometimes receive from him in the hallways of Hawkins High – or if he was caught having a friendly chat with Nancy between classes. Jonathan couldn’t put his finger on what it was ... but it was entirely unfiltered for a change. The tenderness didn't last long - it vanished the moment Steve smacked his lips, but he wouldn't forget it. His brows proceeded to furrow, trying to register the comment about being close. Technically, they were close right now. In fact, being this close to Steve Harrington occupied a special place in the landscapes of his nightmares. Shockingly, this moment lacked all the hostility from those imagined scenarios. "Sure ... " He nodded slowly, trying to register how he was supposed to get Steve home without a car. The Harrington residence was about a 15 minute walk away from their current stance on the curb. He'd have to walk back to his car after. "Yeah - I uh, I guess we can walk." He confirmed, squeezing a hand into his back pocket for his car keys. He locked his car and then draped Steve's arm over his shoulders, holding up the duo up by linking his own arm around Steve's waist - hand cupping his torso.

They proceeded to trudge along the shoulder of the road, taking time to ensure that Steve wouldn’t fall over – and stay within the road lines. He figured that Steve was pretty focused on not vomiting. A cool breeze permeated his jacket, and the tips of his ears burned the longer they walked in the brisk cold. Crickets began humming in the fields. Jonathan largely accepted by now that there was no way he’d pick up Will on time. He knew he’d face the consequences later. For now, he walked in silence with Steve – allowing several beats of silence to hang between them until Jonathan finally spoke up. The tickle of worry from his conversation with Nancy bubbled up his chest. Maybe it was the spark of vulnerability from earlier – but he felt daring as he broke silence between them. “Nancy looked pretty upset tonight.” He said softly, tongue poking around his inner cheek, peeking over at Steve. “Is … everything – you know … okay?”

Steve Harrington:

steve was both relieved and surprised that jonathan honored his request to walk the rest of the way. part of him felt compelled to say you're a good guy, byers. but the words died on his lips. partially because he wasn't sure if he believed it, and partially because he was pretty sure jonathan didn't want to hear it. instead he leaned on jonathan, because otherwise, he'd be falling all over the place. his stomach lurched again, but steve ignored it, trying to focus on the october cold stinging his skin. he stumbled along with jonathan, not minding the silence. it was better than byers' weirdo music or nancy's harsh words rattling and pulsing in his skull. steve tended to be someone who preferred to fill his life with sound, block out anything real, but right now he welcome the quietly trilling insects and distant screaming of trick or treaters. the bliss came to an end as byers prodded about nancy. steve audibly winced and dramatically shook his head before providing the curt answer of, "she broke up with me, doesn't love me. whatever. bullshit." then almost immediately, steve lurched over and spilled his guts again. his recovery this time was shorter. in fact, he pulled away from jonathan and pointed a finger at him while the other remained on his hip, "i'm sure you're happy to hear it, but no more fuckin' questions about nancy." if he was alone, steve probably would've been able to cry about it, but instead, he shimmied back up to jonathan's side and finished the journey home in silence.

as always, the harrington household was unoccupied. steve couldn't remember where his parents were this weekend, but he was just glad they were gone. once they got up the steps that lead to steve's door, he peeled himself off of jonathan and tried to steady himself against the door as he shuffled his feet over the mat in the front so the key would appear. expecting jonathan to screw off. steve closed his eyes, grunting in frustration like a child as he turned his back against the door and slid downwards. on the ground, he had easier access to the mat, which he was able to pull the key out from beneath. when his eyes opened, he clocked jonathan nearby and quipped, "what's that saying, take a picture it'll last longer? where's your little camera now, byers?" in his drunken state steve had deduced jonathan was only here for some sick satisfaction. grumbling about it under his breath, steve began his struggle in trying to stand and unlock the door.

Jonathan Byers:

It was a mistake. He knew it as soon as Steve winced. Bringing up Nancy would be the downfall of this peaceful evening stroll. Much like everything between the pair – Nancy always managed to influence their tumultuous dynamic. It’s not that Jonathan wanted to poke the bear, he really didn’t - He was genuinely concerned. Part of him even suspected that Steve’s self-inflicted drunken stupor was a product of whatever happened before he witnessed the lovebirds bolt down Tina’s staircase. Therefore, hearing that they broke up wasn’t surprising at all. Anyone in town with a pair of eyes and two brain cells could see that what they had wasn’t love - whatever the fuck that meant. Jonathan was, however, taken aback by Steve’s tone. Nancy was his friend, sure – and he cared for her deeply, but she didn’t choose him after everything that happened last fall. She ran back to King Steve. He'd largely accepted that fact, regardless of any feelings that bubbled up to the surface when they started talking again. It was glaringly clear that Jonathan wasn’t the type of person worthy of dating a Wheeler, anyway. And even if he was – he’d be an afterthought, the second choice. The person chosen in lieu of a shinier toy. The saddest part of this revelation resided in the fact that he’d welcome that title with open arms. Every time. Jonathan was happy to obey Steve's plea to shut up. He gladly kept quiet for the rest of the walk home, pausing to let Steve vomit briefly along the way.

As they approached the Harrington home, he felt Steve pull away from his frame. He let him stumble towards the front door and strayed behind. Jonathan wasn’t entirely interested in entering the home, but figured he’d at least wait to make sure that Steve had the mental capacity to enter on his own. He stood by the porch stairs, watching the weirdo flail around on the ground like a worm. It was almost laughable – until Steve opened his mouth again. The jab about the pictures stung deep in his chest. He’d regret that night for the rest of his life – yet he couldn’t seem to shake it off. It was a constant reminder of his status as Hawkins’ resident creep. And while he didn’t lose his temper often, the hurt bled through his self-control. Jonathan trotted up the steps, nostrils flaring as he got closer. He kept his cool throughout the evening – pursing his lips and nodding off all the garbage that left Steve’s mouth, but the commentary rose above an acceptable threshold. He grabbed the collar of Steve’s leather jacket, dragging him up from where he struggled to stand, knocking him back against the door in the process. “I could have fucking left you there” He spat it out rather coolly, lower jaw jutting as he looked Steve straight in the eye. The dig materialized from a place of hurt, and he couldn’t take it back. He simply took a breath and released the vice-grip on Steve’s jacket, letting him crumple back down. He wasn’t about to beat up a drunk guy. Instead, he grabbed the keys from Steve's hand and worked at unlocking the door.

Steve Harrington:

steve wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it hadn't been to be knocked into his own front door by jonathan byers. jonathan beat his ass last fall, but steve had insisted that was a fluke, didn't let it hurt his pride too much. he got the girl in the end after all, and even if he always wondered about how nancy talked about jonathan, they were a couple at the end of the day. he was the one who got to come up to her and kiss her in the halls. steve loved nancy, plain and simple. he never had any grand plans for his life, but following in his parents footsteps and settling down with nance never seemed so bad. but now that was out of the question. maybe nancy didn't love him, and maybe jonathan winning that fight wasn't a fluke, and maybe steve was just a fucking wuss who couldn't keep a girlfriend, and couldn't beat that stupid fucking new kid that tommy h was drooling over-- billy hargrove. so when jonathan hurled venomous words his way, steve merely rolled his eyes in a drunken stupor and shoved jonathan off of him halfheartedly, "you fuckin-- shoulda..." he slurred, sitting on the ground for a moment, trying not to freak out about nancy. then he abruptly wobbled to his feet, pushed his hair from his eyes and made a declaration, "screw this." steve didn't care that it was october, or that it was cold, or that he really should just get some water and lay down. instead, he left jonathan at work on the door and circled back around to the pool in the backyard. he stood at the edge, swaying like he might fall in, but miraculously he didn't. when jonathan joined him, steve couldn't combat his scoff, "what're you still doin' here, man?"

-THIS THREAD IS CONTINUING OVER TUMBLR REBLOGS-

[majoranna]

Celebrations, séance, madness, mysticism with sound and movement

- notes on death, grief, art and life

march hit hard with the quiet celebration of women, engulfed in the first year of commemoration of my mother's death. How is mid march finding you?

I'm talking about death. It's weird to talk about it because we know nothing. It's like, the most real fantasy. But I've met him. ☄

He is the strongest force I´ve met so far, a very intense guy, and you´ll very unlikely to ever be the same, after meeting him. Before Death was Illness, and she was suffocating, very very scary, and the longer time you share with her, the smaller scale of perception you seem to have. They often come hand in hand, and they turn you upside down and inside out and at the end you are left with utter chaos.

Is it chaos though, or does it only seem so for a second, until we realize is it instead a peek over the edge from where one sees the Order of things the first time in their lives? 

Things never make sense at the beginning. Reading the first pages, you wonder what's all this and where will it take you? The first movements, finding the ground under your feet, recognizing your spine is rusty and your shoulders are sleeping. Wondering, how this is going to be a dance? Mixing colors, drawing lines, disliking what we see, feeling lost, and wondering, to what end is all this making happening at all? That is when you decide to just wait, and see. To continue until you find out. I see that as a moment of saying yes to my own life. 

On the 9th of March, 2023, leaving my office, heading to see my boss, I collapsed onto the bottom of the big orange lino staircase in the Opera House, as my sister rang me on the phone. She said "Szia" , and her voice landed in my body as warm light and expanding space. I knew what she'd say, and I am not even sure she actually said anything else. We cried together gently, listening to each other sob, and then she said "I'll go back to Mum ''and we hung up. My tears were pouring like rain as they do now, as I write, reliving the moments that are still very much alive and present with me.

Do you remember where you were on that Day? 

I went up to the office and the first person I shared my grief with was my boss. I don't think she knows but she's done something real that day. She showed so much compassion, and strength, through her hug and humanity, I will always be grateful. She told me to go home, and I did, because she said so, not because my mind or my body had any idea what one is supposed to do, when they become aware of their mothers death. It felt a little like the movie scene, im thinking specifically of the one in Rogue One, with the meteor landing and fire pouring over the horizon, as you hold on to someone you love, and everything burns. Except I seemed to have been very much left alive. So I did what the alive people do when people die.

I went home to the Hungarian countryside, and took care of paperwork and payment and inheritance. Bureaucracy. Madness. Insanity. At the end of the month I buried my mother, not the way I wish it would have been, but the way it was. In my mind she isn't buried yet, although at least I do not await her homecoming in my dreams anymore.

After her actual funeral I got really gross drunk on pálinka (a strong hungarian schnaps) and sweated a puddle in my dream afterwards. No joke it looked like I pissed the bed but from my entire body. 

It starts with the ashes, but the aftermath was not a burnt out world and no life. Instead It was matter, plentiful and in tiny pieces. All the matter I've ever interacted with, parted in no way from my being,  was spread in every direction until the eye can see and the mind can comprehend, way beyond the outer bodies reach. It is expanding space, lights playing, sounds twirling and you, you are all of this. there is no you and.. there is just incomprehensive sensations, which you are.

I took some time off here and there but basically I just kept working as much as I could. It felt like being frozen. I freeze up now, as I allow myself to remember, to tap into those feelings again, from a distance far enough in time, that they are so small I can hold them again. The dream journey of this period of grief was indescribably beautiful, a reliving of a relationship through the most alive fragments of my mother in me, one by one becoming the lasts, the last time we hugged, and the last words we spoke, and the last time I heard her voice. My semi-conscious sleeping mind, was such a beautiful place to be, as I could not possibly have imagined, because I could still be with her. Revisiting the memories of the dreams is still so painful I do not wish to let myself too close, as I am afraid, they take me further out to the edge of the galaxy, from where is no way back.

After 8 months or so, I finally realized, I need to stop, and exit the frames I used to operate within. I have changed so much inside, I could not have the outside be a constant reminder of my previous self. She, whom I was clinging to, whom I missed dearly, and I would have given anything to be her again. The Anna I was, before she met Death. We weren´t always best friends with her either of course, when I was her, but all I could see, and feel was the weight of life now being so real. Her lightness, silly irresponsability, ability to laugh and play and make love, felt like concepts I wasn´t sure I could ever relate to wholeheartedly again.

But the only thing that was crystal clear from moment one, was that I was never going to do anything, only what I can do wholeheartedly.

So I quit my job, I made space.

https://www.behance.net/gallery/170665713/Abstract-Mixed-media-Landscape

https://www.shutterstock.com/shutterstock/videos/1016277991/preview/stock-footage-big-bang-the-origin-of-the-black-hole-bright-futuristic-composition.webm

☄ I apologize here, I do not intend to say men are somehow in any way more identifiable with death than women are, I wish to make the point that I think death is far enough from being human, as to not be given a gender. But I try to write authentically, and this sentence came to me this way. Same with Illness being she. Maybe I feel that way cause it was cancer eating my mum. dunno.

[jackzillanyanut8008]

The Last Of Us Part 3: Fan Write (Part 3)

Author’s Note:

This fan write of the 3rd addition to The Last Of Us franchise is completely fan made, I own zero rights to the game, tv show, or merchandise. Any and all properties of this franchise are owned by Naughty Dog Studios, Sony Computer Entertainment, Sony Interactive Entertainment, and PlayStation Studios. And of course, please support both the previous games, as well as the HBO series.

-Stone CL Williams

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

Chapter 9: What Goes “Bump” in the Night

Ellie wakes up in a panic as she looks around her and Dina’s room. It’s okay Ellie, just another damn nightmare she thought to herself. She gets up to make something to drink before Dina grabs her hand “Don’t worry hun, just getting something to calm my nerves, promise” Ellie says as she kisses Dina’s fingers and walks out the door.

Ellie fucking nightmares, ever since she was little. The idea of her mind twisting some of the fucked up shit she’d seen over the years into terrifying monsters or vivid and dark memories that would spiral her into a panic, never sat right with her. She walks downstairs and grabs Joel’s old mug and starts to make some tea, before hearing a knock at her door.

She knew it was one of two things: One, it was some drunk ass from The Tipsy Bison thinking that their house was the local inn; Or it was something else entirely. Regardless, Ellie opens the door and almost cups her hand over her mouth in shock as she sees her late night guest.

“Sup sugar tits? Miss me?” Abby says as she smirks ear to ear before letting out a brief chuckle. Ellie grabs her knife before a strange man comes from behind Abby and disarms her. “Sorry Mrs’ Williams, don’t wanna wake up the kid and your old lady” he says as Abby and Lev walk in. Ellie’s fear overtakes her rage before realizing what this could be, an invasion of Jackson. It all made sense now; the need to find more Fireflies, her and the others being so close to Jackson before they killed Joel, and Ellie was sitting on the floor, in a robe, defenseless. “You lay one finger on either of them and I’ll-” she says quietly before Abby puts up her hand, interrupting her threat “First off: I’m not THAT deranged bitch, Secondly; I came here to talk” she says as she looks to her strange accomplice “Deacon, let her go”. The man gives her a look of concern but obliges nonetheless. “Sorry about the roughhousing miss, you’re the one who pulled the knife out though” he says sheepishly as Ellie grabs her switchblade.

The four of them sit in the living room, Abby and Deacon on the couch opposite of Ellie, and Lev on a sofa to her right. Ellie takes a drink of tea before giving Abby a stare “How’d you dickwads get in anyway? Nobody outside gets inside without clearance or permission” she says before Deacon holds up her answer: A giant plastic bag of weed as big as JJ. “Hey, not everyone can just forget the apocalypse miss, and besides me and Tommy go back” Deacon explains as he sets the bag on the coffee table as Dina rushes down with JJ in her arms. “Well, howdy miss” Deacon says as he tips his hat to Dina, who stares directly at Abby and Lev “What the fuck are you doing in my house” she says flatly as she slowly steps down the staircase. “Weed and action movies? I got the weed part and figured you would provide the rest” Deacon says sarcastically with a loud laugh, prompting JJ to whine a little. “But in all seriousness, we didn’t come here to fight, quite the opposite actually” Abby says as Deacon clears his throat.

The two look at them confused before Abby finishes “We came here to make peace”

Chapter 10: Peace Among Worlds

“Peace? Are you fucking serious?” Dina says before Ellie cuts her off “Hun, I know it’s hard to believe but in all actuality, we started the whole mess in the first place”. Dina gives Ellie a look of both surprise and concern. “Joel killed Abby’s father, Tommy and I killed her friends, and they went through hell to get here, as much as I wanna stick her with my knife, we shouldn’t fight the clean” Ellie says with a heavy sigh. Dina takes a deep breath before looking at Lev “Hey kid, I get one punch to your shoulder, then we’re square” she says as she sets JJ on a highchair next to Ellie. “Fair enough” Lev says as he looks at Abby “What about that Tommy guy? We still gotta see him right?” he asks. Ellie shakes her head “If you thought I was hard to convince, Tommy would be impossible. I mean, Abby did blast a chunk of his face off and you did shoot him in the leg with that bow of yours” Ellie explains. 

Abby lets out a sigh and gets up “Yeah best to give him a few days of us being here, maybe you can talk him down a little Ellie?” she says as she throws on a jacket. Ellie takes a sip of coffee and sighs “I’ll try, he left for New York a few weeks ago, but he might pop in soon for the Outbreak Festival”. Lev tilts her head in confusion before Dina explains “It’s an annual festival we have at the end of the summer to celebrate our survival of the apocalypse, it helps people forget the world ended and all that”. Lev nods her head in understanding as the trio leave.

As they walk out, Deacon gives Ellie a brief stare before shutting the door. “Something up D? You look weirded out” Lev asks as they walk onto the street. Deacon sparks up a joint and takes a puff “That Ellie girl, you said she was immune right?” he asks. Abby stops in her tracks “Yeah, why?” she asks. Deacon lets out a deep exhale before giving off a chuckle “Nothing, just was wondering who did her ink, not a lot of tattoo artists these days” he says with a laugh.

Abby gives him a smirk as they move on, Lev catching up before they pass by an old house.

“Is that his house Abby?” Deacon asks as Abby puts her hand to the mailbox

Abby lets out a sigh before backing off “I was so blinded by hate and vengeance, maybe if I just let it go-” she says before Deacon cuts her off. “Listen Abbs, if some schmuck ever kills my dad, I’d do far worse. Just be glad those two forgive you” he says, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Thanks D. Let's get to the Inn, I’m beat” Abby says as the trio head into town.

Back in Port Hueneme, Thatch runs out of the burning wreckage of The Mileena. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy fucking shit” he says as he runs to the old employee garage that he and D had stashed a bunch of supplies and an old pickup truck.

“Gotta find Deacon, before these assholes do” he says as he peels out into the night. The Mileena still burning behind him.

[soleilsoie]

               ♡            🦢         ࿓         ❛      please   tell   me   you’re   not   going   to   date   that   fucking   fraud   .      ❜      glass   carafe   nearly   barren   with   only   drops   of   transparent   intoxicant   left   occupies   free   palm   ,   other   trekking   tousled   raven   locks   gracefully   slicked   back   for   families   corporation   carouse   that   male   had   managed   to   vacate   premises   of   in   order   to   interrogate   counter   upon   newly   discovered   revelation   .   inebriation   evident   in   darkened   orbs   and   staggering   limbs   scarcely   capable   of   positioning   self   straight   upon   grand   staircase   of   abode   entrance   ,   moonlight   that   strikes   fibrous   anatomy   only   fueling   lethargy   that   accompanies   intoxicated   temperament   .      ❛      your   parents   couldnt   find   someone   better   ?   i   mean   ,   anyone   but   fucking   him   !      ❜      octave   rising   with   each   syllable   that   expels   past   poison   tainted   petals   ,   no   desire   to   inquiry   if   pitiless   elders   were   present   despite   possibly   unveiling   secret   relationship   dearest   daughter   of   theirs   was   entangled   in   with   one   and   only   son   of   sworn   enemy   .      ❛      tell   me   you   refused   him   ,   you   refused   them   .      ❜   @floralscents​