#honestly they deserve nothing but pain for treating him like that

[thehouseofurmotha]

`✵•.¸,✵°✵.｡.✰ 𝕃𝕠𝕦𝕕 𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕕𝕖 ✰.｡.✵°✵,¸.•✵´★

Pairing: Bakugou x Aizawa's Daughter Reader

Warnings: Fluff, lots of fluff! Bakugou is vry anxious, a lil bit of cussing, possibly ooc Bakugou

Summery: you finally convince your boyfriend Katsuki Bakugou to meet your father. Little do they both know they already know each other.

"Katsuuuuuu" you whine pouting at your grumpy boyfriend. Even though you know that his anger is nothing more than a cover for every other emotion he's feeling, and right now you can tell he's anxious. No matter how many times you have asked him to meet your father you've been turned down with a simple 'I'm not ready yet', and even if you understands the boy's anxiety it doesn't make you any less disappointed.

"S'not that I don't wanna meet him doll, you know I do. Jus' what if he thinks I'm not good enough for you. You're just so perfect, and so calculated. Then m'jus reckless me." Letting out a long sigh afterwards because he really does want to meet the man who raised the girl he's so lucky to call his girlfriend, but he's scared. Rightfully so he thinks, because he really never will be good enough to deserve you.

"Kats, he's going to love you. I know me telling you probably won't end up changing how you feel, but you are good enough for me. You're everything I want, you treat me better than anyone else could, and if my father cannot see that he is painfully blind." You haven't had the heart to tell him who exactly your father is, especially with it being his teacher. You know it would only freak him out more, and that's the last thing that you need to do.

You know your boyfriend honestly probably better than you know yourself. As you've known him since you were in middle school. You can read him in a way no one else can. They see his brash. angry personality on the outside and they immediately assume that's all he is. Is a loud angry kid, but you, you see the parts of him that no one else is allowed to. You see the passion he has, the love he has for saving people, you see his softness. He's a different person around you. You bring out the best in him in ways that no one else could ever dream to do. As he does to you, because he also sees the parts of you nobody else has been allowed to see before. He knows your greatest fears, and the things that inspire you. He's supportive of your dreams as you are his. He'd never judge you, especially about the fact that you're not becoming a hero. Instead opting to take general studies at U.A. where you focus your studies on hero analysis instead.

"Do you mean it?" There's a hint of pain in his voice that would go unnoticed by anyone but you.

"Of course I do" you say as you gently cup his face with your hands. Then he gives you a look, one that is full of love. Love for you, and it's almost enough to make you tear up. But you fight it as to not spook him.

"Okay my love, I'll meet him." He gives you a small smile, and you think your heart may have melted right there.

"How about dinner at my house this Saturday kats? I'll make your favorite and we'll just have a nice evening." You say with an encouraging smile. You know how hard this must be for him and you're so incredibly proud of him.

"Okay, I'll let the old hag know that I'll be out be out for the evenin." He gently leans his forehead against yours after placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You love how gentle his is with you, like at any moment you could break in his grasp.

You giggle as you playfully hit his shoulder, "Stop calling her that Kats." Before he has the chance to respond your phone starts blasting your alarm, telling you that it's time to start your walk home.

"M'gonna miss you." He says as you carefully get out of his lap and stretch as you stand up.

"I'll call you as soon as I'm home, and we can stay on the phone all night." This answer seems to satisfy him as he stands up and gives you a kiss before grabbing your jacket to help you put it on.

"Goodbye katsu, I'll talk to you later." Giving him a peck on his cheek and opening the door to his room.

"Yeah, whatever bye nerd." Even though that would come off as rude to anyone else, it places a large smile on your face as you make your way out of his house. It really is a gorgeous house, his parents have wonderful taste.

As you start on your walk you think about how the conversation with your father will go. He'll more than likely be getting ready for his night-shift of patrol. He knew you were seeing someone but other than that he knew no details. You had never been one to share the details of your love life and he knew that, so he chose not to push. Hoping that you would trust him enough to tell him anything important.

As you arrive home, you put your key in the lock and carefully unlock the door. As you open the door to your guys apartment, you immediately see your father in the kitchen dressed in his hero suit making himself coffee. It was the only way he got through his night shifts. As he sees you he starts to walk over to you before giving you a hug and a kiss to the top of your head.

"Welcome home hun, how's your day been?" He says pulling away and giving you a smile. He knows you can handle yourself but there's a certain relief that comes with knowing that you're safe in your home.

"It's been good, but I've got something to talk to you about." As you say this his heart beats a little quicker, maybe something happened. He's already thinking of every horrible thing that could have happened to you. You gently place your hand on his shoulder taking him out of his thoughts.

"Saturday, my boyfriend's going to come over for dinner. So he can meet you." He sighs in relief, he can handle that. It's simply just meeting the boy who has stolen your heart. He's noticed the way you've changed, since you've started hanging out with that boy. You seem happier, calmer even. But all he knows is that it's been a change for the better, and he can tell this boy makes you happy. So, even though trusting someone else with the care of the most important person to him is terrifying. He knows you're happy and healthy, that's all that'll ever matter to him.

"Alright that's fine, but you're cooking cause you know I can't for shit." You let out a small giggle at this comment, because he really cannot cook to save his life.

"Already planned on it dad!" He could spend the rest of his life like this. In the sweet moments between the two of you. Due to his busy schedule he doesn't get to see you as much as he would like. Even though he knows you don't blame him, and never would he can't help but feel some guilt. He never wants you to feel like he's abandoning you in the way your mother did.

"Alright hun, I've got to leave for patrol, there's some money on the counter for you to order yourself dinner. I should be home around 3. Have a good night, I love you." Once again he plants a kiss to your forehead, with a small smile forming on his lips.

"Thank you, I love you too dad. Have a good patrol!" And with that he leaves for the night.

You spend some time debating on what to get, with the help of Katsuki's opinions. After you get your food and eat you and him both decide that it's time for bed. You fall asleep to the sound of his soft snores feeling the most content that you have in years.

The rest of your week goes by normally. With the same routine of going to school, seeing your boyfriend, and going home. A simple routine but one that you've grown to love. The normalcy of everything is so comforting to you. And before you know it Saturday has arrived. Throughout the day you're excited, you think. You're not actually really sure how you feel, you want to be exciting but then there's the thought of what if it doesn't go well. And now you're suddenly wondering if Kats will be mad that you didn't tell him who your father was. As it gets closer to the time that was agreed upon by the three of you, the panic starts to really set.

This does not go unnoticed by your father as he is an extremely observant man. Yet, for what feels like one of the first times in his life, he doesn't know how to comfort you. He wants to promise you that he'll like your boyfriend but he knows there's always a chance that promise would be broken. And he doesn't want to do that to you. He settles in just trying to tell you he'll be nice. He walks into the kitchen where you've started making curry. You're making two kinds because you know your father cannot handle the spice. You don't acknowledge his presence but he's aware you know that he is with you.

"Hey, uh I promise I'll be nice tonight, but I can't promise that I'll like him." He says as gently as he can, but he feels like that last part may have come out a little harsh.

"I know dad, it's not really you I'm worried about. He's just.. He's so anxious but it comes out in a way that's harsh, and I don't want you to think less of him." It was a hard confession for you to make to him. Fearing that he might connect the dots before your boyfriend gets here.

"I'll keep it in mind kid, because I know you're happy. I see it on your face." He walks back to his room as he says that. But it leaves a smile on your face. And it reminds you how much he truly cares about you.

You think about Katsuki the entire time you cook. Thinking about his smile that is so contagious to you. He's smiling and you are too. About his hair, and the way it's so pointy. Yet it somehow manages to be so soft too. His voice that is so loud and harsh with others, but is so gentle and soft with you. You think about the way he looks while he cooks. He'll say he enjoys your food tonight, and he might. But you both know that he is absolutely the superior cook. You think about his handsome face. Everything about it being so perfect and fitting together so well. The red of his eyes, and the small bags that fall under them. Everything about him is so perfect.

Eventually, you're interrupted from your thoughts by a knock on the door. 'Shit' you think is it really already time. You quickly go to open the door and you're pleasantly surprised at the sight in front of you. Your lovely boyfriend dressed nicer than you think you've ever seen. Wearing a nice pair of jeans and a red dress shirt that brings out his eyes. He's also holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

"Uh. Here these are for you." He says has he shoves them into your hands. You smile at him.

"Thank you they're gorgeous. Would you uh, like to come in?" No matter how long you guys are together you'll honestly probably always have these small awkward moments between the two of you that you've grown to love.

"Oh uh yeah." He nods his head as he accepts your invitation and walks into your house. Taking a mental note of his surroundings, the place you, the girl he loves lives. He thinks it's simple, but nice, even more than his own house.

"Uh, by the way don't kill me for not telling you." You hear your father start coming down the hall and feel this is your last chance to say anything. And you decide to plead for your life. He looks at you with complete and utter confusion.

"Huh?" He says this as your father walks into the room and as the realization hits him, you see the color drain from his face. You look at your father and he has the same look on his face. Katsuki's seems to be more out of fear and your father's more out of shock.

"Y/n what did I say about loud blondes?" He says with a sigh, but you know he's not mad. He may just be trying to freak Katsuki out a little more.

With a giggle you respond, "to stay away from them?" Katsuki looks at you like you're crazy, you can only wonder what's going through his head. You take his hand giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Uh- hi Aizawa-sensei." He says with a shake in his voice. You can tell he's scared and you feel so bad for not telling him. You realize that it was a mistake you shouldn't have hid it from him, you should have just told him. But you don't have time to keep thinking before your father responds.

"Hello Bakugou, I'm assuming you were as left in the dark about this as I was?" Your father sends you a small glare.

"Uh yeah sir I was." He says huffing and shoving the hand that wasn't holding yours in his pocket, as he glares intensely at the floor.

"Msorry- I didn't know how to tell you guys.. I'm sorry." You say meekly, you really hadn't known how to tell them.

"it's okay, m'jus a little shocked." Now it's his turn to give your hand a comforting squeeze. He really isn't mad at you, but he does wish you had told him before. But that's something the two of you can talk about another day.

"I know you make my daughter happy Bakugou, so I'm not mad. And I know you'll be able to protect her. But this will not change our relationship at school, do not expect anything to be easier for you. If anything be prepared for it to be harder, if it's my daughter you'll be protecting." Your father sends a look to your boyfriend that conveys how serious he is about his words.

"Yeah yeah sir, I wouldn't want it any other way." He send a glare straight back at your father, you know this is his way of proving himself to the older man. So for now, you won't get in the way, as long as it doesn't get to out of hand.

"We should probably go eat before dinner gets cold." The two men nod in agreement before you guys make your way to the dining room. You sit next to Katsuki and your father sits on the other side of the table. You give both of them plates before making your own.

"I hope you enjoy it." You say with a weak smile. You watch as the both of them start eating and Katsuki gives you one of those looks that just shows you how much he is in love with you.

"Shit babe, this is so fuckin good." He says before taking anything bite. And this makes you giggle and return him the smile. Your father watches with an amused smirk and he realizes that calming the loud blondes may run in the family.

The rest of dinner goes well, you guys all talk and you father seems to accept of Katsuki. And that makes you happier than anything, seeing the two most important people in your life get along.

A/n: RAAAAH okay so I fear it's late and I'm a little eepy so I kinda rushed the end, so I might come back and change it or I'll js leave it I don't know! But this is the first time in a rlly long time I've written so it honestly probably sucks but I fear it's okay chat. I hope you at least someone enjoyed it!

Pt. 2, pt. 3

[sanemistar]

STILL LOVE YOU

contents ★ satoru x fem!reader, angst to fluff, exes to lovers, 1k+ wc. ﾉ requested for my milestone event. synopsis ★ what will you do if your ex shows up unprompted in the middle of the night asking your for a second chance?

event m.list ★ jjk m.list

it was quite late at night, probably a little past midnight when you heard a knock on the door of your apartment. you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, you weren’t expecting any visits especially when it was this late at night. hesitant, you carefully walked up and slowly opened the door.

the moment the door was opened, you were instantly greeted with the sight of satoru, your ex boyfriend of all people, whom showed up at your door unprompted in the middle of the night. you hadn’t seen him since the breakup, so seeing him again after all that time had shaken you quite hard. past memories of when you and him were so happy and madly in love with one another floated in your mind as you reminisced about all the happy times you had spent together with him for some time.

it was at that moment when you couldn’t believe how fragile you were. like just when you thought you had already moved on and completely forgotten about him as if he had never existed, you’d been reminded of satoru yet again and the fact that you had only been pretending to be indifferent about him when in reality you still had feelings for him.

you took a look at his face, it was still the same as ever. yet, something felt off. he wasn’t smirking or grinning, he wasn’t making any playful faces. his face was blank, pale and dull. heavy dark circles were seen underneath his blue eyes and his white hair was quite disheveled. frankly, his appearance concerned you. it was your first time seeing satoru in this state, you had no idea he could look that miserable.

“what brings you here, gojo?” you sternly asked, trying your best to control your emotions and not let yourself slip up. addressing him as if he were a complete stranger to you.

satoru, who still had lingering feelings for you, who still couldn’t accept the fact that you were no longer his. had no idea as to why he showed up at your door, especially that late in the night. his body acted on its own and his feet just naturally led him to your apartment, a place where was once so familiar to him that it felt like his own home.

but deep down, he knew that he only came here because he missed you, and he wanted to see your beautiful face once again in person.

“cuz baby i…. i miss you.” he stammered as he spoke, his voice cracked as if he was trying to hold himself from crying. you felt a knot in your stomach the moment you heard him call you baby.

“i don’t think we’re in a relationship that allows you to call me that, gojo.” you emphasized on his last name, reminding him of the fact that you were no longer in a relationship.

“look, if you have nothing important to say i’m done with this conversation.” if you were to tell your past self that there’d be a day when you would talk to your beloved toru like that, she would never believe you. honestly, even you were surprised by how cruelly you sounded at that moment, but a part of you thought he deserved it for causing you pain and heartbreak the day he called it quits with you.

you were right about to slam the door shut when he put his hand on it, stopping you from doing so.

“i know i haven’t treated you right the first time and i absolutely regret it.. i’m so sorry it took me so long to realize that, but if you give me a second chance, i promise i’ll treat you right this time around.” you’d never heard satoru say he regretted something he did before, so you were quite taken aback by his statement.

he was fully aware that you were too good for him and he didn’t deserve you. after all, he had once failed to give you the love that you truly deserved.

“please baby… please come back to me..” you couldn’t believe that the satoru gojo, the most arrogant and cocky man who flaunted his powers and strength at any given chance, was right here at your door, looking at you with such a sorrowful expression on his face while desperately begging you to forgive him and allow him to be with you once more.

the part of you that still loved him, the one part of you that you’d been desperately trying to suppress, had begun to overtake you as thoughts of giving satoru a second chance began circulating in your head.

“you know what i really hate right now?” satoru fell silent as you questioned.

“i hate how i still love you.” you paused momentarily before uttering. “i still love you, toru.” you decided to put your faith in satoru once more. it was hard to admit, but it was a given fact that you still loved him despite everything that happened.

he blinked profusely, still trying to process the words he had just heard, not only did you call him by the nickname you��d given him, but also you told him you still loved him. his feelings were mutual. after all, he had never stopped loving you to begin with.

not being able to resist and hold himself back any longer, his body moved on its own yet again and he instantly ran to you as he tightly held you in his arms. he held you so tight for dear life yet at the same time his touch was so soft and gentle, full of warmth and genuine love.

“i love you too, my baby. thank you for giving me another chance to be with you. this time, i promise i’ll never make you sad.” he cried against your ears as you buried your face in his chest and began crying as well. you deeply inhaled the smell of his cologne, the same unforgettable, sweet smell that you had terribly missed.

𝜗𝜚 taglist: @unriding @lxnarphase @sylusdoll @itachiiwrites @itoshivy @17020 @luv-lies @suguru-getos @kasukuna

[kismetlotts]

cw: rape, somnophillia, angry simon riley, degrading, manipulation, creampie, harsh words

Living with Simon Riley and catching one of them really painful, barking coughs that leave your throat sore when you wake up.

He thought it was cute when you were sick, he’d bring you a warm drink- telling you to drink up, he’d go out and buy you so much medicine he’d walk in with bags full- anything for his little angel to be okay.

He’d offer to wash you in the bath, his soft hands rubbing and massaging your skin even if you told him you were fully capable. He’d treat you, just wanting you to get better. Loving you and caring for you.

But then night came, and things took a turn. He didn’t mind the odd, rough nights sleep due to your cough keeping him up, but for 3 nights in arrow? It was pissing him off and Simons fuse was short. Did you not take any of the medicine he had brought you? I mean honestly- it was like you didn’t want to get better at this point.

He’d try covering his head with a pillow, blocking out the sound of your coughing long enough for him to dip back into sleep, but short enough to wake him up instantly. He didn’t want to go sleep on the couch, he had work and his body needed the rest. So he chose to try and ignore it.

Try ignore the way the bed wobbled every time you shook, try ignore the way the loudness of the cough echoed around the room. Try ignore the way he was fucking losing it and try ignore how selfish you were being.

His hands rushed down, pulling his underwear down, teeth clenched in his jaw and he fisted himself, already hard. He’d scoot his arm under you and bring you in close, staring at your sleeping face with irritation and jealousy. He’d rip down your panties and before you could squirm away at the unfamiliar feeling of air down there, he’d shove himself in deep. Jolting you awake, stinging your insides.

“Simon! What are you-“

But fuck he wasn’t listening. He just kept going and going and going. Fucking you hard, fucking you deep just literally fucking you. He was so pissed off with you, keeping him up like the needy selfish little brat you were.

“It’s annoying, isn’t it love?” He’d ask strained, his voice cracking himself and he pounded your cunt, your insides feeling so soft and buttery on his cock, feeling you slowly getting wetter the longer it went on.

“It’s annoying when someone keeps you awake. Keeps fucking you about. I buy you all them pills, medicines, cough sweets- fuck I pretty much bought anything that had the word cough on it. And you still have it?”

His voice was darker, and through the darkness of the room your eyes watered. Soft cries and pleas coming from your voice because this didn’t feel good. He was going in deep, so deep it actually began to hurt. Your body shook and you cried, tears dripping down your face and into your mouth, tasting the saltiness of the situation. It was gone off, this was bad.

Simon was a gentleman, the man who promises to put a ring on that finger of yours, the man who would protect you, comfort you, save you from anything bad. Even as far in to your relationship now, he’d always ask consent before you made love, he’d always make sure that you like it too. But now? He wasn’t making love or caring about you at all. He was fucking defiling you.

“You’re always so whiny, so fucking annoying. I get you baby, I get you hurt but fuck me. Do you have to be so fucking miserable? It’s like- fuck- if you’re not okay and happy, no one else can be.” His words would hurt you more, he’d just let them out like they were nothing. Like they weren’t adding to your cries, like they weren’t making your wet pussy tighten around him more. His words would degrade you, would manipulate you as he used your body.

He would trick you so easily, you weren’t even crying because you didn’t want it anymore, you were crying because you knew you deserved it. You’d brought all this on Simon, made him run around like some lost puppy just to throw it back in his face at the one time he can rest himself. How dare you, how dare you fucking do that. He’d twitch inside you after a while, finally cumming and pushing you off him. Aftercare was out of the question but you’d gathered that. You didn’t deserve anything right now with your behaviour.

Simons panting died down, the sweat on his back going cold as the heat of the moment vanished. With one leg flipping to the side, he’d roll over, bringing the duvet back up. Now that he was tired, maybe he could sleep better. Huffing and grunting out a quick,

“You wake me up once more, I'm going to fuck that cold out your body- no matter how long it takes.”

Before finally falling asleep.

[lanibgoode]

only if they brought back frank and steve.

Reblog if, no matter the size of the role, you would agree to work with the Muppets if offered the chance to do so, no questions asked

[bitin-and-barkin]

Keeping him in line

Warnings: Gunfucking, facefucking, shoe humping, sub Dutch, he's like super pathetic honestly, humiliation (Dutch Receiving), degradation, gender neutral reader, dom reader, the reader is SO fucking mean, Dutch deserves it tho, masochism, pain kink, anal, smut, all consensual dw, I like to think this could've stopped the downfall of the gang

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

Thinking about being an "old friend" of Dutch.

Used to go out robbing with him back in the day, until some crap went down. He thought you died, and you thought the same for him. But after the blackwater incident, a long overdue meeting happens when you both try to rob the same train.

Thinking about him "Inviting" (practically begging) you to join him, even though you both know you're doing damn well on your own.

Thinking about once you graciously agree, he's consulting you for every little thing, saying something along the lines of "let me consult the missus/mister" before he plans any jobs, finally taking SOMEONE'S advice other than his own. Treating you like Hosea, like himself. A higher up, a leader, despite you having never set foot in this gang in over 10, 15, years.

Thinking about him insisting that you don't have to do any of the "dirty work" if you don't feel like it. Barking orders at others to "take care of it" while dragging you back to his tent for no reason at all, other than to just smoke and drink and chat about everything and nothing.

Thinking about others being weirded out and slightly jealous of all the praise and approval you get from him, with even Molly questioning if he's sweet on you. Everyone is thinking it, that maybe he had something going on with you in the past. But, even when he was with Annabelle? He had never treated her this kindly.

Thinking about him catching glances at your fingers while you handle your gun, the way you draw it and shoot in the blink of an eye. Watching your hands move as you play poker at camp, making everybody else at the table go broke.

Thinking about him watching the way your chest heaves in and out after a gunfight. Watching the way your silver tongue talks them into money and out of trouble, even better than he or Hosea can.

Thinking about him stating he needs to "take a break" with Molly due to him "needing some time alone" while she watches him talk to you the same way he used to chat with her, but with actual longing in his eyes.

Thinking about you talking to him, almost down to him, with a certain smug look on your face as he looks at you with a certain devotion on his. You calling out the flaws in his ideas and plans, doubting him, doing things that would get anybody else labeled as a traitor. But not you. Anybody but you. As when you do it? All he can do is sit there and take it.

Thinking about you pushing him down by the chest where he sits anytime he does something or says something that you don't like. Knocking his drink out of his hand in front of everybody when he gets too out of line.

Thinking about punishing him for his behavior at night, taking long drags of his cigar and putting it out on his arm as you grip his hair and shove his face into his bed as you fuck him into the sheets.

Thinking about you leaving bruises on his neck after you choke him too hard for being too mean to one of his boys or after one of his infamous plans fuck up once again.

Thinking about making him rut up against your boot as you face fuck him, saying he isn't deserving of even touching you, and if he wants release he has to work for it himself. Stating that your shoes better be shining when he's done down there as he rubs his dick against your spurs, desperate for friction.

Thinking of you fucking him with his own gun after he begs you for more, with you degrading him for getting a hard on. Asking him what the Pinkertons, what his gang, would think if they learned that Dutch Van Der Linde himself is no more than a common whore. One barely good enough to fuck. Saying that maybe you should turn him in, that way you can use the money to buy a whore that actually does what they're told.

Thinking about him crying into your lap as he begs for release, and all you do is laugh at him and shove him off, leaving him alone and aching after you climax and he doesn't. Knowing that he needs this punishment to keep him in place.

Thinking about him palming himself for the rest of the night and choking himself with a tie you got him a long time ago, fucking himself stupid with your gun which you left in his tent. But it's not enough. Such a greedy boy. It's never enough for him.

That's why you have to keep him in line. It keeps him sane.

[damiansgoodgirll]

DONT BREAK MY HEART PART 7 but make it smut 🥵🤭

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six

terror twins x reader (platonic) / the judgment day x reader (platonic) / drew mcintyre x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!

‼️family issues, fear or abandonment, fear of loneliness, nightmares, panic attacks, mention and talk of sex (?), some hints of smut, slow burn

don’t break my heart - part 7

you and drew took some time off from the company after what happened last time. you saw a side of finn that you never saw and it honestly scared you. from him treating you as a daughter, helping you overcome your fears and traumas to be the one who caused you more pain than ever.

you didn’t know what triggered him to get violent with you and, at this point, you didn’t even care to find out. rhea and damian understood why you weren’t going to be there with them and they couldn’t blame you. rhea was still shocked that finn raised his hands on you and she understood that you needed time to heal. they were both very concerned about you and even if rhea spoke - or more, threatened and screamed at finn - he didn’t see any wrong in what he did.

you texted a good luck message to both rhea and damian before you got comfy on your couch with drew next to you.

he huffed when he saw punk opening tonight’s raw, making you smile a little. you both watched what he had to say and you couldn’t lie that he was very good at doing promos. drew, of course, was pretty irritated and as petty as he is, he had to have the last word “can you take a video of me to post on instagram? punk needs to see his words aren’t a threat for me…” drew asked with his typical smirk on his face. you nodded, chuckling at his expression once you clicked on the camera and started recording. he turned serious, clapping at what punk said. he wanted to show who was really in charge and you couldn’t lie, this side of him always turned you on but you couldn’t let him know. you never even talked about sex so it seemed weird for you to tell him about how hot he looked while being so dominant. he posted the video and thanked you, complimenting your videographer skills “what you looking at?” he whispered, noticing you dozing off.

“oh, nothing…let’s keep watching the show, rhea told me she had some promos with jey and i’m so happy for her…” you tried to change the subject, knowing that drew’s thick accent and deep voice always made you flustered “i think jey might be good for her…”

“yeah, she deserves some happiness, just like you” he whispered, dragging you closer to his body and gently covering you with his blanket. his little gesture made you smile, as you laid your head over his shoulder, you couldn’t stop thinking about how lucky you were that you had found someone as kind and caring and as drew was.

you both got comfortable watching monday night raw while eating popcorn. you were both ready to come back after a week of being at home - your home as drew crashed in and never left - and you honestly missed the feeling of being in the ring and training with damian and rhea. you’ve been in contact this past week but you missed their company and you couldn’t wait for them to be back in town so you could visit them.

as you watched rhea’s promo getting interrupted by finn, your body tensed a little. drew felt that and he gently caressed your thigh, almost as if he wanted to let you know that he was there.

“what you mean finn caused all of this?” you whispered watching how finn confessed all of his wicked plan to rhea. he was the one who told you that everything was going to be okay at summerslam and now he confessed he was the one to lure dominik to go for liv? oh, you were so pissed. he was the reason your family fell apart and, truthfully, even though it hurt, you were lucky that finn showed his true colours before it was too late for you “he’s so dead…” you whispered loud enough that drew was able to hear you.

“yeah he’s dead but you’re not going closer to him anymore in your life…” drew was still mad about the outcome of last week. he never saw you so shaken up. he wanted to kill finn for causing you all of this pain, for bringing back bad memories and unpleasant feelings and if murder was legal, he probably would have already done it. but you were his first priority and that night he took care of you. he held you while you were falling asleep and he calmed you down after you woke up crying from a nightmare. he was there for you.

“you should have listened to what he was saying to me at summerslam” you remembered “he said how he didn’t know about dominik betraying liv, how he cared for the group…and now, he just confessed that he was the mind behind all of it? how can someone be so manipulative?” you took a deep breath, already knowing the answer.

“hey, why don’t we focus on something else?” he asked, hoping that it would distract you.

“yeah, probably better” you laughed “please, enlighten me with how you are going to destroy cm punk at bad blood” you teased him, making him smile.

you loved how happy he was to talk about his feud with punk. he couldn’t stand the older man but knowing that he had you on his side, made him feel proud.

you talked about it for hours. monday night raw already forgotten, as an other show played in the background. your head laid on his chest while he was softly stroking your back.

you felt yourself getting tired and before you could protest, you fell asleep on his muscular chest. hearing a soft laugh before you dozed off, he kissed you good night and gently carried you to your bedroom.

he got comfortable on the bed, laying you under the blanket and him laying next to you, holding you as he turned off the lights and fell asleep.

you didn’t know what time it was when you woke up. probably around 3 am. it was dark outside and there was an uncomfortable silence going on that made your heart beat faster. you got out of bed carefully, trying not to wake drew that was peacefully sleeping next to you. with nowhere to go, you decided to hide yourself in the bathroom.

another night, another nightmare.

but this time it was more graphic. it wasn’t something that happened - no - it was something that your mind was making up, something so scary that you couldn’t control your tears. you were scared of your mind and all the dark thoughts that you were experiencing.

drew - of course - felt the moment you stood up from your bed and hid yourself in the bathroom. he was used to your nightmares and everytime it was different. sometimes you would wake up screaming, crying, sometimes you wouldn’t even wake up - he would find you shaking on the bed and he would have to wake you up - and sometimes you would wake up without making a sound.

but no matter what, he always told you to wake him up in case he wouldn’t hear you and everytime you did the opposite of what he asked. always hiding or closing you in yourself.

he heard your soft sobs and he immediately knew what was going on. knocking on the locked bathroom door, he was almost begging you to let him in. slowly, unlocking the door, you were met with his worried eyes “oh love…come here” he opened his arms for you, letting you know that he was there for you “another nightmare?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

no words came from your mouth but you didn’t need to - he understood perfectly what was going on. softly walking you to the bed, he laid with you, holding you in his arms as you cried.

“i’m sorry i woke you up…” you sniffled.

“don’t apologise, baby, never apologise for this…it’s okay i promise you” leaving a soft kiss on your cheek, whispering softly in your ear as he rocked you between his arms “do you feel safe sleeping again? we can stay awake and watch tv if not” he was so patient with you and you melted everytime he showed his soft side to you.

“we should sleep…we’re coming back to raw soon and with bad blood in just a few weeks, i wanna be okay for that���i have to, for rhea and damian, for you, and mostly for me” you loved how day by day you gained some little confidence, thanks for the amount of love drew always showed you.

“okay, let’s lay down my love” without leaving you, he kept holding your body in his arms. laying your head on his chest, you fell asleep quickly to the sound of his heartbeat.

when morning hit, you and drew began your usual routine, and so it went on for days and days until you were both scheduled to come back to monday night raw.

“can’t wait to see rhea and damian again…” you whispered a little excited as you were packing your bags. drew chuckled, it was becoming less rare to see you this bubbly and he loved it.

of course rhea texted you that damian and her would be on a different flight because their timing was very chaotic and so they forgot to book flights for the event. she couldn’t wait to see you, she kept in touch with you and sometimes you trained together but you also needed more time for you, more time for you and drew, to explore your relationship.

as you texted her that you would see her at the hotel, drew carried all of your bags into his car as he was ready for the airport.

“coming!” you shouted before making sure you took everything you needed and closing the doors.

you could simplify the word airport with pure chaos. you hated flying, especially when you had to go from florida to canada. from the warmest temperature to the coldest one. nine times out of ten you would always get sick because of the drastic temperature change. but drew took care of everything. from checking in your bags to looking for your gate, from buying you some snacks to eat during the flight to give you the window seat that was initially under his name. he did everything he could to make this flight comfortable for you.

“what hotel room do you have baby?” he causally asked you.

“uhm…357, what about you?”

“209” he laughed “why do they keep putting us on different levels?”

“maybe because no one else apart from rhea and damian know that we are together” you joked.

“yeah…” he laughed but he thought for a minute. what if you went public? would it be too early for you? would it make you uncomfortable? he definitely was going to bring the topic up but not now as he saw how stressed you already were, trying to find a comfortable position in your seat.

many hours later you finally arrived. car rental waiting for drew outside the airport was nothing new. you saw him signing off some paperwork and you immediately jumped in the car, not wanting to freeze your ass more than what you were already doing. chuckling, drew got into the car and drove towards the hotel.

“we’re gonna stay here for three days baby, will you make it?” he joked, seeing how hardly you were trying to keep your hands warm.

“i’ll tell you when i start transitioning in elsa” you matched his irony, making the both of you laugh.

as usual, drew walked you to your room first and helped you with your bags.

“i’m gonna go through the script again in the meantime…i can’t believe rhea and damian forgot to book their flights” you laughed. you actually could believe it since they always did that. when you were still in the judgment day finn was the one who took care of everything but now, with you even hating the idea of flying, with rhea and damian being always too busy with their lives, it wasn’t nothing new that you booked last minute tickets.

“i’ll go rest a little bit and then i’ll hit the gym, text me when you’re done with rhea and damian, let me know if i can join you for dinner or if they’ll kill me” he joked before kissing you goodbye, heading towards his room.

you definitely weren’t expecting that rhea and damian would be so welcoming with drew. dinner went smoothly, laughing and making jokes and for the first time, after the mess with the judgment day, as you look at them, you saw a family, a real family, that was going to be there for you, no matter what.

while rhea and damian moved to reach their bedrooms, you and drew took a few steps along the hallways of the hotel, holding hands and talking about the little things.

like always, he walked you back to your room and stayed there for a few minutes. he was visibly tired, from the long day he just had but nevertheless, he took time making sure that you were okay and safe in your room.

before he left he gently pushed your body into his bigger one, circling your hips with his hands. you stood up a little taller to reach his lips - a goodnight kiss as usual - and when he bit your lips you couldn’t help but moan a little into his mouth. you definitely wasn’t expecting that. you liked it, a lot, but his strong grip on your hips and his tongue teasing your lips were making you hot and very bothered as you had no idea on how to react.

“if you ever want, tonight or tomorrow night, my room is always open for you” he whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. with one last kiss he left, a cocky smile on his face while you stood there speechless.

with all that was going on with your life, you’ve never thought about that. the possibility of having sex with drew. sure, it crossed your mind but you never thought about it. and it was a serious thing. of course he wouldn’t wait for you forever, he had needs and somehow, being always so close to him, made you realise that you had needs too.

panicking, you sent a quick message to rhea and damian, asking them to come immediately to your room.

in less than five minutes they were both there, wondering what was keeping you awake.

“is everything okay hermosa?” damian asked.

“yes, no…yes and no, i don’t know i need your help” you felt like you were in your sixteens again.

“with what?” rhea interrupted sitting on your bed next to damian as you were pacing around the room.

“it’s drew…i love him, i really do and he loves me too…this past weeks really helped us a lot with coming to the conclusion that we want this to be a long term relationship” you saw rhea and damian smiling “but…there’s a thing we haven’t really talked about and i think i need your help on this…” you were embarrassed.

you remember how your mother first told you about sex, you were only nine and you felt like she traumatised you. talking about it with your friends at school always made you embarrassed. you just didn’t know what to say or what to do.

“we haven’t done…you know, that” you tried to avoid those weird terms that always made you cringe.

“oh” they both said in sync.

“it’s bad, isn’t it?” you questioned, your eyes moving from the damian to rhea.

“what? no…absolutely not, it’s not bad y/n…” rhea immediately spoke up “he loves you and he clearly wants to wait for you to be ready”

“he was here before and he kinda let me understand that he wants to do it…you know, and i want it too but i don’t have much experience, basically i never had an ex boyfriend, just some dickheads who just wanted a blowjob and i have no idea what to do!” you started pacing around the room one more time. the duo glancing between you and themselves “and i know that if i tell him that, he would probably laugh…he’s a grown man after all” defeated, you threw yourself on the bed.

“that’s nonsense…” damian spoke with his gentle yet strong tone “he loves you and no matter what you say, he will never judge you or laugh at you…if you two want to have a long relationship, you gotta talk about this…he will be patient with you and who cares if you’re inexperienced, he will show you…you have all the time in front of you to learn, you’re young” damian soft voice made you realise that everything he said was true. you needed to talk about it with drew, you wanted to talk about it with drew.

“you’re right…you’re always right” you said making him chuckle.

“hey…you do you, do what you feel comfortable to do, no one will pressure you, okay?” rhea’s loving eyes stared into your look.

“i will, i promise…thank you” you were so glad to have them by your side.

“if you need anything, we’re a couple of doors away” damian said before kissing your forehead and leaving the room, followed by rhea.

needless to say, you stayed awake all night thinking about the duo’s words. maybe, tonight after the show you will find the courage to talk with drew.

drew texted you first thing in the morning, asking you if you were riding with him to the arena. accepting his offer, you met him down in the parking lot. with his cocky smile, he greeted you with a big hug and gentle kiss.

“have you slept good?” he asked.

“yeah…” you tried to fix your eye bags with some make up and thankfully, drew didn’t notice.

the ride towards the arena was silent but comfortable. one his hand was placed upon your thigh, gently squeezing it and sometimes drawing random circles on your skin.

“are you ready for tonight?” he asked, waking you up from your thoughts.

tonight? “what…tonight?”

“yeah the show” he laughed “we’re so close to bad blood…you sure you have slept?”

“oh yeah, the show…it’s probably gonna be the same boring story…damian has a match against dom, he’s definitely gonna crush him and then the budget day will crush damian, then rhea and i have come to the rescue, making those cowards run away” you knew how it was going to happen because that was everything you’ve been doing for the past weeks. you didn’t know how to feel, knowing that you would have to face balor, you didn’t wanna see him.

and so it was as you said. you almost predicted everything, except for the part where liv would hit rhea’s injured leg and so it was just you standing in front of rhea and damian as they were both laying there, inside the ring.

finn smirked, making you feel very uncomfortable. he had that sadistic smile he had the night he hit you.

“you can’t run…you can’t hide” he smirked, laughing at you.

at this point you weren’t even sure what was going to happen. liv didn’t attack you, she was the only one that logically would have attacked you. instead finn took a few steps forward, making you back up.

he was right - nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, especially since rhea and damian were laying injured behind you and the only thing that was stopping the judgment day from hitting them was you.

with the little strength he had left, damian reached out for you and threw himself over your body, the same way he did with rhea, when he saw that finn was ready to hit you.

he promised he would have never left finn hurt you again and so he saw the moment and took the hits instead of you.

in the meantime, jey uso music echoed through the arena, making people cheering and screaming. when they saw him, the group immediately ran away. but the twin didn’t care, his priority was rhea, and you two.

as damian helped you standing up, you couldn’t control your emotions and you threw yourself into his arms, hugging him.

“are you okay?” you whispered.

“yes, are you?” he looked down into your eyes and when he saw you nodding, he held you close.

“thank you…for protecting me” your voice trembled.

“i promised you, he would never lay his hands on you ever again” his tone was serious and you could tell that this wasn’t over.

you helped him backstage as rhea was being helped by jey. medical staff immediately went to check upon the duo as you and jey waited for them to be cleared. worried for them, you couldn’t sit still and jey tried his best to calm you down. your mind kept replaying the scene where damian covered you with his body, taking the hits for you.

“…hey, they’re gonna be okay” jey kept whispering, seeing how worried you were.

twenty minutes later and they were both finally cleared. damian was okay, rhea’s leg was still injured but the doctor told her that she would be recovering before bad blood so she wasn’t that worried.

they walked out, jey talked with rhea before going to get ready for his match. you went with them and when you all entered rhea’s changing room, you saw rhea being pissed. she was pissed with liv and the judgment day. she couldn’t stand them anymore.

“i can’t wait for bad blood…i’m gonna whip her ass, i can’t stand her” rhea kept mumbling.

“i can’t believe finn had the nerve to stand in front of y/n like that! he’s dead! i can’t wait to have my hands on him at bad blood” damian was angrier than rhea. talking as if you weren’t there, you let them, knowing that they needed to let their frustration out. as they were talking, your eyes were focused on the screen in front of you. drew was next and you couldn’t help but notice how good he looked that night. the way he spoke, his thick accent making everything ten times hotter. the way his eyes tried to be mischievous but deep down you knew the truth and he was a softie. everything from the way he was looking was making you hot. rhea and damian were trying to talk with you but you were too focused on the tv that you didn’t even know what they were saying.

“y/n!” rhea screamed a little too loud, making you jump on your spot “i asked you, do you come back with us or do you wait for drew?”

“uhm…you guys go, i’m gonna wait for him…have a goodnight” you smiled before hugging them both.

your eyes never leaving the screen, you couldn’t wait for drew to come backstage. feeling the need to be in his presence, to hug him and touch him.

patiently waiting for his segment to finish, the moment he came back to his locker room, you waited for him to shower and get ready. he was quick so you gave him 10 minutes before barging into his room.

“hey darling” he smiled seeing you there “are you okay? i saw what happened there with finn…i’m so glad damian was there to protect you” he was concerned.

“yeah i’m okay, thank you” you smiled “i loved your promo”

he was surprised but not that surprised “thank you” he always knew how much you struggled with words - preferring physical action instead of words - so he was happy to hear you say that “what do you think if we go back to the hotel? eating something and then sleeping? i’m busted” you nodded, wanting to be alone with drew as much as possible.

the ride took less than expected, your eyes darting between the soft rain outside and drew’s focused face as he drove.

“my room or yours?” he asked once you got into the hotel hall.

“yours” you didn’t know where that confidence came from and he was surprised as you were but he couldn’t say no to you so you both walked towards his room.

he gave you some of his clothes so you could change and be more comfortable and once food came, you both ate talking about the show. you could tell he was excited about bad blood too. and you hoped he could take home the victory, he wanted this feud with punk to be over and he wanted it to be over at bad blood.

after you were all done, full and satisfied with the amount of food drew got, you both comfortably laid on his bed, watching whatever show the tv was playing - not that you were paying attention to it.

“i’m proud of you” he broke the silence “the way you stood up in front of the man who hurt you, in front of finn…the fans don’t know what happened but i know, and i’m so proud of you” his smile was genuine. his words making you lean more into his touch as his hand was on your back.

“thank you” you whispered “it means a lot to me…” you looked up at him and saw his look moving between your lips and your eyes. you couldn’t wait anymore as you’ve been waiting impatiently all day long to be in his arms, so you lifted your head up and softly kissed his lips. you felt him smile into the kiss, his tongue teasing you.

“i can’t get you out of my head y/n…don’t know what spell you put on me” he whispered against your lips making you chuckle.

“a witch never tells her secrets” you teased him back, making him smile.

“i just love the taste of your lips on mine, the way your body fits perfectly into my hands, the way your skin feels against mine…you’re a good witch because i never want that spell to end” he teased one more time before diving his lips back onto yours.

in a swift move, he helped you sitting on his lap, so now your hands were both teasing his hair as his bigger ones moved to hold your hips down. few kisses turned into a full make out session and his warm hands started teasing the hem of his t-shirt that you were wearing. you felt his fingers over your skin, on your back, moving over your stomach and hips. the sudden sensation of his teeth biting your lower lip made you whimper in his mouth, grinding your hips lower, you accidentally brushed over his length. feeling him growing harder and fuller, drew softly moaned over your lips.

you took a few seconds to watch at him, his eyes closed as he was taking in everything that you were willing to give him.

“drew…” your soft voice called him.

he opened his eyes, looking at you with a smile on his face “tell me love…”

how were you going to tell him? you didn’t want to ruin the moment, everything was going well, everything was romantic and you didn’t want to set the mood off.

“well…” words caught in your mouth.

he took one look at you and realised what you were going to say “we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, i’m happy as long as you’re comfortable” his words were genuine and you found honesty in his voice.

your heart melted “i really wanna do it, but..i’ve never uhm, done it? i mean i did but at the same time i have not and i don’t know what i’m doing…” you blurted out panicking a little, making him laugh.

“shhh, it’s okay baby…i wanna take care of you and i’ll show you everything you want, i promise” you couldn’t believe how patient he was with you and you loved him even more “but not tonight baby…when you’re ready”

“okay…” you whispered, a soft smile on your face “but i really enjoy kissing you…”

your words made him laugh as he smiled into the kiss, gently laying his lips over yours again.

you knew you were safe with him and no matter what, he was going to be there for you.

your mind was too focused on bad blood, so maybe, after the event you would have experimented something with drew.

your only fear was - what if everything goes down? what if rhea loses? what if damian loses? what if drew loses? what if the events of that night were going to change your future forever?

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

i’m sorry it took so long but with me being sick and my mom being sick i hadn’t much to myself but now i’m back! let me know what you think and if you have ideas for the next chapter please let me know

[moon-tell-me]

Affection

"Our fingers dancing when they meet" - This side of paradise

The outsiders (separate) x GN reader

Warnings: bit of cursing, not proof read, nothing else??

SODAPOP CURTIS

DARRY CURTIS

He prolly needs a hug honestly

I doubt he gets them often

He's a wee bit touch starved

‼️All hugs and cuddles will be greatly appreciated‼️

He's not super big on pda

He'll have an arm around you, kiss you and stuff

But that's kinda it

He would def give the best kisses

Sharing a bed with him is alright..

He gives you enough space and he'll spoon you if you want

But

He snores

Like, really bad

So..

He loves affection

Mans would actually hold you 24/7 if he could

You wanna cuddle with him?

Don't even have to ask

He always knows what you want and when you want it

GUYS HES A MAGICAL GIRL??

NEW AU?

Sorry, got distracted

Anyways, he'll be big spoon, little spoon, your pillow, blanket, anything really

He also loves hand holding

Just link your fingers with his anytime, anywhere

He'll be the happiest boy on earth

Soda doesn't mind pda

He'll show you love anywhere

He actually kinda likes it cause it shows the other girls that he's taken..

He's one of the best greasers to (sfw) sleep with

He's used to sharing a bed with someone, and he is probably the biggest cuddler of the group

Plus he's like a human heater

So you won't get cold

PONYBOY CURTIS

He likes your affection.. a lot

Maybe not as much as the others, but he likes it

He's not really a touch starved person

Actually, I see him as being kinda touch adverse, Soda, Johnny, and you being exceptions

He'd probably prefer just reading with you over all the cuddling

Until he's tired atleast

Speaking of, he canonically gets nightmares, and having someone sleeping with him helps

Y'know what else helps?

Cuddling, that's what.

Just let him be your little spoon

Kid really deserves it

He definitely likes more subtle affection

Your leg touching his, stuff like that

He also really likes cheek kisses and you playing with his hair

When it comes to pda, it will only happen around Johnny

The others won't let him live it down

ALSO, out of everyone, he's the one that blushes the most

DALLAS WINSTON

He hates physical affection

At least, that's what he says

You know better though

You've noticed how he reacts when you hold his hand, or play with his hair

How he calms when you cup his cheek and give him a gentle kiss

If we're being completely honest here, he loves it

He loves every single bit of your affection

Just don't do anything more then a quick kiss in public

If he gets really jealous or possessive in public he'll initiate pda

I'm talking, arm around your shoulder, pulling you in his lap, full on making out with you

He's a very touch starved person

So in private he'll accept any and all tender touches

He'll still be an ass about it but y'know

If you do it while he's tired he'll actually shut up and enjoy it

Sharing a bed with him is probably nice

He's veryy cuddly when tired

Do what you will with that information

He will only be your little spoon if he's black out drunk

Otherwise he'll just serve as your personal pillow

JOHNNY CADE

In the beginning your gonna have to hold back on your physical affection

Because of how his parents treat him he's gotten used to touches being painful

You need to be very patient and careful

He'll get used to it though!

He's also extremely touch starved

So he will definitely enjoy it once he knows you won't hurt him

He's willing to be affectionate in public, as long as the other guys aren't around

Except Ponyboy, he doesn't mind too much around him

He loves cuddling

He's always super shy about it tho

Actually, he's always kinda shy about anything you do

Even if it's just eye contact

It's just so new to him

Please please please just kiss him out of nowhere

His reaction would be so fvcking cute

Give this boy the love he deserves

Let him sleep in your bed every time it gets too cold out

He needs a nice, warm, comforting place to sleep

He'd be very respectful about it

Just give him sweet kisses while you cuddle him

TWO-BIT MATHEWS

Probably the second most affectionate

Right behind Soda

He's not touch starved, he just really likes you

He doesn't care about pda

He doesn't care what others say

I think it's actually physically impossible for him to get embarrassed

So, do whatever the hell you want tbh

He's absolutely terrible to sleep with

He always sleeps in the starfish position, leaving you with no room

He's also a blanket hog

So uhh

Yeah

The only pro is that you can cuddle him

I bet he would give nice hugs and cuddles..

Overall, you can do pretty much whatever with him

He doesn't care that much

[rin-solo]

I love. LOVE. Get In the Water

It's one of the objectively best songs in the musical; I will die on this hill.

Poseidon was always, despite being pretty much the main antagonist of EPIC, a really underdeveloped character in my opinion. He just needed a little more nuance, and the fact that one (+ kind of one more) song managed to add so much to his characterization pretty much exclusively through subtext and implications is incredibly impressive writing. Because it did!

At the start, he's yet again playing games with Odysseus, the way he did in Ruthlessness. In both songs, he could kill him easily at any point, yet he chooses not to for the sake of playing games. In Ruthlessness, this becomes his own hubris as it leads to Odysseus escaping.

If you listen closely, at the start of GITW he already sounds slightly different. He's still trying to keep up this "God of Ruthlessness" front that he's so proud of, but he's no longer more or less carefree the way he was in Ruthlessness. He's been obsessing over this feud for ten years, and even if he would never admit it, it's actually clear just from his voice that he really is tired of it too. Not in the sense of it emotionally draining him the way it probably does Odysseus, but in the sense that it's a bother, a loose end in his life, a book that he finally wants to slam shut.

But he still has a reputation to uphold, and he still cannot close this book until Odysseus is dead, so he keeps up the game. Instead of just killing him, he's taunting him to kill himself. He might associate the idea of just striking him down with a sort of loss, like then he'd have to get his hands dirty. Then he's rambling about killing his people, his family. He's provoking Odysseus on purpose, likely trying to get him to snap back, to hate and fear him the way that Poseidon would think any mortal who has consumed this much of his time should. In his eyes, Odysseus deserves nothing less than to curse him with his last breath as his "darkest moment," the god who became the bane of his life.

And Odysseus replies, of all things, with ... sympathy.

Honestly, I don't blame Poseidon for being speechless for three full seconds. He literally just threatened to gauge Telemachus' eyes out the way Odysseus did with Polyphemus, and this absolute madlad of a man replies with an acknowledgment that he (might have) caused Poseidon pain too.

Now, I don't really think Poseidon was particularly hurt over Polyphemus' loss, or hurting in any way in that moment (if he were, I highly doubt he'd still be playing games, and he would've mentioned his son as opposed to speaking about his reputation.) But just the fact that Odysseus acknowledges that he might be hurting too is probably something Poseidon hasn't heard in ... who knows how long? His family is the Olympians. I don't think I have to say more.

It's actually more of a genuine apology than Odysseus' explanation in Ruthlessness ... (even though that was also a perfectly fine apology by Greek standards, as far as I'm aware.) Now he doesn't say "sorry" because he's still not sorry for hurting Polyphemus, since he still needed to do that in order to escape. But he expresses regret over the pain he caused in a more genuine way than ever.

I am convinced that Poseidon is utterly unfamiliar with sympathy or mercy. He's lived by his "Ruthlessness is mercy" motto for centuries, and he doesn't know anything else. No one would try to teach him something different. The other gods all live by this logic, even if he's the most vocal about it considering he seems to have made it his whole personality. Mortals wouldn't dare to question Poseidon in the first place. And barely anyone would be willing to treat someone with kindness who is in turn treating everyone around them with ruthlessness.

It's very likely that Poseidon hasn't encountered anyone like this until Odysseus. Ruthlessness is simply how he treats people and also how he expects to be treated back. The fact that Odysseus doesn't, the fact that instead of hating, fearing, or cursing him, he acknowledges that they have both hurt each other and that it doesn't lead anywhere to still pursue vengeance, must have triggered Poseidon in an unprecedented way.

To him, this was probably the most outrageous thing Odysseus could have said in that moment. And it throws him off so much that he is genuinely speechless, and then simply replies, "I can't." ... his most genuine-sounding line in the whole musical.

I cannot stress enough how much it threw me off to hear this line; in the best way imaginable, it doesn't sound like Poseidon. It sounds almost vulnerable. Almost human. Because he is genuinely at a loss so much that he forgets to put up his "wrathful god" facade for just one second. Standing ovation to Steven Rodriguez for his whole performance, but especially this part.

And then Odysseus goes all out to say something even more outrageous: "Maybe you could learn to forgive?"

... Which is when Poseidon snaps.

Kind of understandable, honestly. There's this mortal whom he has likely fantasized about seeing pleading, hate-filled, and terrified, cowering before him for ten years now ... telling him that he ought to learn something. Even hijacking his own motif and his instrument in order to turn it on its head, "defile" it if you will.

This f*cking mortal pr*ck took his own "Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves" catchphrase and turned it into forgiveness ... Of course, Poseidon is no longer hesitating; of course, he is no longer concerned with getting his hands dirty or not. He yells "DIE!" and unleashes his ultimate move (which is really overkill for simply killing a mortal if you think about it) ... But he does it anyway because this time he genuinely means it.

... That, and I am also convinced he jumps to that in order to simply shut Odysseus up, fearing what he might do or think if he lets him go on. Because you cannot tell me that Odysseus didn't actually reach him for just one moment. He was far too thrown off guard, far too vulnerable in that one second. That moment of kindness did something to him, and he hated it. He also probably didn't trust himself to be able to keep listening to Odysseus speak like that. So, he abandons his (still very technically feasible!) blackmail/intimidation and just straight-up kills him.

This simple exchange (my favorite moment in the whole musical, actually) tells us so much about both of these characters that it makes me want to skitter and squeal in excitement.

Here is Odysseus—the very same one whom Poseidon specifically tried to teach ruthlessness—becoming the first person in a long time to offer him sympathy despite how Poseidon himself showed him nothing but ruthlessness. And then one song later, here is Odysseus showing him the consequences of not accepting said sympathy.

Six Hundred Strike and what Odysseus does to Poseidon would've not hit the same, in my opinion, if he hadn't made this offer, if he hadn't given Poseidon this way out, even if no one watching genuinely expected it to work (probably not even Odysseus himself.)

Six Hundred Strike is not Odysseus exacting vengeance If GITW proved anything about Odysseus, it's that he does not want vengeance. He wants all of the hatred and pain to be over, to the point where he is willing to let go of, and I am inclined to say forgive Poseidon for what he's done to him. Six Hundred Strike is simply Odysseus teaching him this lesson that Poseidon couldn't have learned in any other way, because he has proven in GITW that he genuinely does not speak any language besides that of ruthlessness (more on that in this essay!)

It's just the perfect representation of how Odysseus has now finally learned the balance between mercy and ruthlessness, which seems to be the core theme of the musical: Both have their time and place; one simply has to be willing to act in both ways and know when to use either. No one extreme is the solution. I am genuinely exhilarated that Odysseus finally seemed to have figured out that it's been both all along.

[thedreamlessnights]

Hi! I’ve got a request for Astarion and Dark Urge Tav. Like they got together through act 1 and 2 and confessed their feelings for each other, but when they go to see Gortash become Arch Duke Tav realizes that she used to be lovers with Gortash before her memory was wiped. Queue angst and hurt/comfort and fluff and hhhhh Gortash loses plssss

I absolutely loved this concept and had so much fun writing it! Dark Urge's route changed me as a person, and I honestly feel like it's a perfect match for Astarion. Thank you so much for sending this in, and I hope you enjoy!

Aching (Astarion x F!Reader - Dark Urge)

Warnings: Major spoilers for Act III of Baldur's Gate - particularly for the Dark Urge playthrough. Mentions of blood, killing, death, and suicidal ideation. Dark Urge being Dark Urge. Hurt/comfort, self-loathing, angst with a happy ending.

Word Count: 4.6k

Like so many other things, the sight of Lord Enver Gortash tugs at a painful spot in your skull. 

You’ve come to differentiate them: the gaping, aching tug of your lost memories and the sharp, swift yank of the tadpole. Somehow, his presence pulls at both of them in equal measure. There’s something on the edge of your tongue, but it won’t be said. A memory behind your eyes, but it won’t be seen. 

One thing is clear enough - you know this man. For better or worse, the two of you have met before.

Karlach clears her throat behind you, and you return to yourself: not lost in the dark void of your memories, not consumed by the itch for blood. Wyrm’s Crossing. 

Gods, you’d nearly forgotten. You’re in the middle of a throne room, surrounded by dozens of people, here for the coronation. Wyll’s father stands in the center of the room, all but a meat puppet under the Absolute’s control. 

The Absolute, which Gortash is a part of.

The soon-to-be Archduke sees you, and something shifts in his gaze. His expression softens. Given all the trouble you’ve been causing for him, that expression comes as a shock - but what he says next is jarring to your core.

“Dearest patriars, but a moment,” he requests. “I must greet a most important guest.” He strolls toward you, arms spread wide as he steps forward, and smiles. “Crawling back from her bloody disgrace - it’s my favorite assassin! Gods, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

And suddenly, you are two pieces of a whole. One longs to step forward, knowing him, wanting him. The other longs for nothing more than to jolt away from him - from the misery you know he’s been causing. Not only to you, or even Karlach, but to your home; Baldur’s Gate.

“Hang on,” Karlach says. “What? You know each other?”

As if you could have possibly known that. As if you’d been willfully keeping it from her. As if your amnesia is a silent betrayal.

“We have important matters to address,” Gortash says dismissively. “My reunion with Karlach can wait.”

Gods, it’s all too much. You’re trying to think, but your mind is swimming in front of your eyes. Your skull throbs. Your heart thuds unevenly in your chest. Something in you is fundamentally disrupted. 

“Don’t talk to me,” you manage to spit out. “Talk to her.”

After all, she deserves it. Ten years in Avernus, a flaming engine in her chest, a slow, painful oncoming death that none of you can prevent - or at least, not while she’s refusing to go back to the hells. She deserves a talk with the man who betrayed her. More than anything.

But Gortash won’t be swayed so easily, it seems. “No offense to my old friend,” he says, not even bothering to look at Karlach, “but it’s you I have been dying to see. After all, you abandoned us some time ago, leaving a rather uncomfortable hole in our plans.”

Fond. His expression is unmistakably fond. 

You don’t know what plans he’s talking about, though. What to say to him? Should you treat him like a friend, exploit his familiarity down to the hilt for the sake of the information you might obtain? Should you be honest and find out more of your lost self? Do you even want to?

As it turns out, it doesn’t matter what you’re planning to say. Gortash sees your face, and that’s enough. “Oh, I’d forgotten,” he remarks, “your memories are quite lost, aren’t they? Orin told me she’d made a fool of you.”

Orin. A picture flashes in front of your mind. Warm blood, oozing from a gash in your head, streaming down into your eyes. A sharp, fierce tug of betrayal that digs into your chest, sours in your mouth like milk. 

Then, another image. A recent memory: Orin. A gruesome suit of skin. A bloodthirsty tongue. The Netherstone in hand.

But Gortash is still talking.

“To think you and Karlach traveled together all this time, and she hadn’t the faintest you were one of my nearest and dearest,” he’s saying.

Karlach tenses, and you suddenly feel sick. Your hands go slick with sweat, and you can feel, not see but feel, the others silently fuming behind you. 

All of this is adding up to one big, horrific picture. A conclusion you despise but can’t deny. Something affectionate in your chest. The admiration in his gaze. The way he’d greeted you. Nearest and dearest. 

Lovers. You and Gortash were lovers. 

The walk back to camp is the most painful of your life - that you can recall, at least. You’d rather be feral again, tied up like an animal on your bedroll, attempting to bite Astarion. 

Part of you wishes you’d decimated Gortash the moment you’d laid eyes on him. If you had, all of this could have been avoided. The swirling guilt in your stomach for something you don’t even remember. The sting of reproof from nearly every single one of your companions. The betrayal in their eyes.

You’d done this. All of it. The Absolute, the march on the city, the tadpole now squirming around in your brain. You and Gortash had planned this out, and now you’ve fallen victim to it. 

It seems like a disconnected idea, a person you can’t imagine being. The further you go on, the less you recognize your old self. The more you despise it.

Gale had certainly chewed you out. Karlach isn’t talking to you. Gods, even Shadowheart is angry. Shadowheart, who should know more than anyone else what this is like. 

Astarion, at least, doesn’t seem as upset as the others. He’s liked his tadpole for the most part. Is some odd part of him grateful for your role in this? For the power it’s given him? You can’t tell. 

You should be able to tell, shouldn’t you?

When the silence becomes unbearable, you grab a bottle of Berduskan Dark as a peace offering and join him at his tent, crawling through the entrance and sprawling yourself over his various pillows. “Do you hate me tonight, too?” you ask lightly.

He raises a brow and rolls one of his shoulders, feigning annoyance. “Oh, I don’t know,” he says, his tone teasing and casual. “It’s not often I find out the woman I’m with is behind a horrible, malicious scheme to control an elder brain.”

Your words of penance fall flat even before they’ve touched your tongue, so you pour him a glass of wine in response. 

He smiles. “Trying to win me over, darling?” he asks, tilting his head. “You’ve caused quite the commotion around camp, you know. Gale is positively furious.”

That sensation of guilt comes again, but this time, it’s overpowering. It makes you want to crumple in on yourself, to erase the horrid, evil parts of you that are left like bloodstains on a white shirt; things that won’t be scrubbed away, present and never-escapable.

“I didn’t know,” you start, firmly but barely kept together. “I swear, I had no idea-”

“Relax, dearest,” Astarion says. “As you know, me and the tadpole are the best of friends. No need to explain.” He pauses. “Although,” he says, suddenly becoming very interested in inspecting the brim of his glass, “you and Gortash seemed to be old friends, too.”

You know what he’s asking you, and you don’t have it in yourself to lie to him. Instead, you slowly nod, pouring yourself a glass of the wine, too. Gods, do you need it. 

“We were lovers, I think,” you finally answer. “I can’t remember anything about it, but… the way he talked to me. It seemed like we were more than friends.”

He pulls a face. “Well. I certainly hope he won’t be serving as my competition. You can do so much better.”

You stare at him: the sudden tension in his shoulders, the pasted-on, confident smile that plays on his lips, the dark glint to his gaze. 

“You’re jealous.”

He scoffs. “Jealous?” he exclaims, laughing a little. “Of course I’m not jealous. Honestly - it’s hilarious. A Bhaalspawn and Bane’s chosen. In another life, I would have been rooting for the two of you.”

But there’s a crease between his brows, and he won’t quite look at you. You reach out for his hand, and his expression softens. He playfully rolls his eyes, but he takes your hand all the same. “And what is our vicious little mastermind thinking about?” he asks, leaning toward you.

“I’m thinking,” you say, “that Lord Gortash could never compare to you.”

“Oh?” he asks, moving in a little further. He loves preening for compliments, and you love treating him to them. “Do go on, dearest.”

You trail your thumb over his knuckles. “Well, he’s clearly nowhere near as handsome as you are.”

Astarion tilts his head. “Of course he isn’t. The man couldn’t hope to compare with a… world-endingly handsome vampire.” He squeezes your hand, lifting a brow. “Anything else?”

You can’t help smiling now. “His taste in clothing is awful. Didn’t you see his boots?” you ask. “Tacky.”

He scowls. “I did. Horrendous, honestly. And at his coronation, no less,” he remarks, tutting. “Well. I’m glad to see your standards have improved, darling.”

“As am I.” You take a sip of your wine, swirling it in your hand, enjoying the feel of Astarion’s grasp in the other. 

With him, you can almost forget the worst parts of yourself. The others, as much as you love them, only make your crimes seem so much worse. There’s a constant forgiveness sought with each conversation, a debt you can never repay that lingers underneath the way they see you. But not with him.

He mirrors you. He sees you. What you really are, not what you were, not the echo of your old life. All your past grievances, well… those don’t matter to him. Everything you’ve done, he considers himself worse. 

Part of you thinks - if the two of you actually make it through, that is - that bit by bit, you may actually heal. Maybe, you’ll actually have a life with him beyond the tadpoles, and beyond Baldur’s Gate. Maybe, the two of you will build something far beyond those who once controlled you.

And then the night comes.

You leave Astarion in his tent to trance, telling him you mean to sleep even though you have no intention of doing so. You never rest well, but it’s aggravated, lately. The Urge is always at its worst during the night. The shadows reflect your darkest self back at you, and your fingers itch for blood. Your mind becomes a haze of gore. Your teeth fix on a tender part of your cheek and press down until you taste iron. 

You’d like to say that this part of you is a clean split from the other - that it’s easy to tell where the Urge ends and you begin - but it’s not. Your thoughts so often drift. You’d been the one feeling that sickening sense of satiation when Alfira lay dead at your feet, her blood drying on your skin. And it’s you who feels a strange tug toward Gortash - some lingering yearning that won’t be scrubbed away. 

And you try. Gods, do you try. You take a rag and sit at the river and rub until your skin is raw, trying to get the metaphorical blood off your hands, trying to cleanse yourself of the want that pulls at your chest when Gortash slips into your thoughts.

But it doesn’t work. It doesn’t work at all.

The way you want Astarion feels different. It’s grounded. Natural. Being around him feels as easy as breathing. Gortash, though: there’s something so very strong there, something ripened with time and obsessive, almost. Something that wants him no matter what you tell yourself.

You want to win this. You want to look at the faces around camp and tell them that their faith in you is not misplaced; that you are capable of what they want you to be. You’re more than the monster in your thoughts. When you’d resisted killing Isobel and Astarion despite your butler’s commands, you’d thought there was a chance for that to happen - for you to become something outside of your murderous tendencies. 

Now, you’re not so sure. 

Your role in the creation of the Absolute has changed things. This feels… unforgivable. Not that Alfira’s death wasn’t already unforgivable, not that you haven’t already sinned enough, but… it’s tallying up to a truly heinous amount of perversion that you can’t fathom anyone here tolerating, much less accepting. Astarion, maybe, but he deserves better than this.

You’ve already tremendously ruined things, and on top of that, you find out you were responsible for turning all of the people you care about into thralls? 

It’s enough to shake you to your core. Enough to sow doubt in your mind, spreading like a slow poison through the veins of your thoughts, slowly choking them away, slowly consuming you.

You really might lose.

Gods, are you strong enough to win the long-fought battle against yourself? Do you have it in you to completely turn away from your past? You won’t give in without a fight, of course, but what chance do you have against Bhaal when he’s in your very mind, rooting himself into every inch of you? 

In the days, you have hope, but in the nights, when you’re alone, you feel certain you’re doomed. That perhaps, this side of you will take over, and you’ll be absolutely helpless to stop it.

The true question is this: when the darkness takes over, will you still exist; forever trapped in the body you once had control over? Or will Bhaal’s presence ravage you, body and soul, and leave nothing of the thing you once were?

You really can’t decide which is worse.

You’re used to your hands shaking, by now. Your fingers have often trembled around the hilt of your blade, itching to drive your knife deep into sweet, bleeding flesh.

This is different. 

It’s fear that takes your body, not the Urge. Fear that compels you, not Bhaal. Are you afraid to lose to Orin, or afraid of what you might become?

Astarion stands behind you, observant but tense. The two of you have come so far now that it almost seems foolish to think of losing. He’d defeated Cazador. He’d resisted the Ascension. If he’d found it in himself to turn away from his darkness, can’t you?

Yet, some part of you still thinks you might disappoint him. Some part of you still fears the monster that lies within yourself.

Astarion rests a hand on your shoulder, knowing you all too well. “You can do this,” he says, lightly squeezing. “I know you can.”

And the sheer, beautiful belief in his eyes - belief in you - is enough to have a little hope again. Not much, but some. You can do this. 

You step into the center of the circle, hands around your blade, and you believe.

It all goes by in a blur. 

Orin is a viper, tightening her strokes around you, striking fast and hard. Her movements are rapid and graceful, her dance lithe and experienced. Even in her slayer form, there’s a deadly beauty to her actions. Every slash, every wound she inflicts on your skin, is a vicious reminder that she’s nothing but practiced in this regard.

Perhaps she’s forgotten, but you are, too. And, this time, your pride doesn’t blind you to the threat she poses.

Your body moves instinctively; for once, you let the Urge guide you freely. You leap out of the way of her claws, dig your blade into her side. When the scent of blood hits the air, you rejoice. When you feel pain, you bask in it. 

Flashes of your past echo in front of your eyes - being in the pod, blood gushing into your eyes. You remember the agony of her betrayal, the fear as you’d smashed your skull into the glass again and again and again. Anything to escape what she’d done.

It’s despair that takes over you, not fear. It’s your fury that deals the final blow, not the Urge. And when Orin finally falls, your blade in her ribs up to the hilt, you feel no relief, no satiation. 

Only grief. Nothing but grief.

You don’t know what you mourn for - your old self? The life she’d robbed you of? No - no, you despise your past. You despise who you were. So what tugs at your chest this tenderly? What force brings you to your knees?

For just a moment, you almost forget about Bhaal.

Of course, he won’t be forgotten - not here, not in his own domain. Not when you’re his creation. Sceleritas Fel is in front of you, applauding your victory, calling you the Chosen One. 

“He is near,” he says. “He comes for you.”

Fear flutters through your chest. Bhaal’s Chosen. It tempts you, even now. The Urge has slithered into the very heart of you, kept somewhere in your ribs, so dark and alluring that you can barely breathe. 

It salivates at the sight of the blade slicing through your butler’s chest, sways at the sight of his blood. His body rises, limp and lifeless, and it’s all you can do to stare, still breathless from the fight, still silently devastated, as more blades cut through the skin one by one - impaling him until his blood seeps onto the stone below; dark, crimson liquid shining over the cold floor.

And in his reflection, you find Bhaal.

He is everything you’ve felt in the Urge and more - the sweet whispers of death in your ear. He’s the honeyed tone that compels you to serve him, compels you to bring forth destruction in his name. In chaos, he triumphs, and in blood, he revels.

This is a gift. An offering to you, his Chosen.

You could accept. You could stop fighting against your destiny, against this thing you were born to become. You could do what he asks, and wreak beautiful havoc on this world. You’re exhausted. Every muscle in your body aches - not from Orin, but from this never-ending fight against yourself. 

How strong you could become, remedied of these burdens. How well you would please your father. It would be so easy. All you’d have to do is accept…

And then you see Astarion. 

His face is paler than usual, a tension in his shoulders, a quiet exhaustion in his eyes. You see him now, as he is, and you see him as he was in the ritual chamber: the temptation of power right beneath his grasp, begging to be taken. He’d sacrificed so much. The light of the sun on his face. The relief of hunger. The burial of his shame. All of these, he’d refused, but he’s finally free. He wants that for you, and you want it, too.

No matter the cost.

So you refuse. You look Bhaal in the eye and refuse his gift, knowing what it will mean for you. And when he threatens your life, you refuse again. No matter the cost, you think. Death is freedom in its own way.

The sudden agony that wracks through your body is unlike any you’ve ever known. It boils through your blood, singes body and soul, brings down you to your knees with the very force of it. Your chest seems to cave in on itself, expelling your inheritance to Bhaal with every beat of your heart. 

Even when he lifts a hand and raises you into the air, you feel crushed - suffocated. Your teeth grind against each other, your skull throbs in agonzing waves, blood flows steadily over your tongue. Your heart slows, your essence fades. Sharp, blinding pain overtakes your vision until all that’s left of you is the shallow, scraping breath in your lungs.

All at once, everything fades, and you’re left in darkness.

And in the darkness, there is finally peace.

Being revived feels like a cruelty. Death is sweet and calm and simple. Emptiness. Oblivion. It is silent, and you are grateful.

Until you’re not. 

You’re not, because you’re no longer dead. Something rips you from your painless sense of stillness - throws you back into the misery of life. You fight against it, but it’s pointless; you have no say in this, and it will take you where it desires. 

You find yourself in flesh again, find the familiar sensation of your tender skin. You find yourself before Withers, bruised and broken, but reborn.

He’s a sight for sore eyes, but there’s something else that lies in your chest. A silence that hasn’t been there since… since before you’d woken up on the nautiloid, confused and alone, not a memory to be found aside from meaningless scraps and a face you didn’t recognize. 

The Urge is gone. All that’s left is you.

It feels empty.

This should feel heroic, this return of yours that leaves you panting with the throes of death, covered in blood and on your knees. You’re back, you’re alive, and gods, you’re glad to see your friends and your lover, but it’s empty. 

You deserved to die, didn’t you? It was your horrible knowledge, the one you kept tucked away even from Astarion. That never-ending guilt. After your crimes, after all the horrid things you’ve done with these hands, this body, before you’d lost your memory - you’d most certainly deserved to be put down. 

You don’t dare look at Astarion, but you look at Withers. Surely, he must know what you are. Surely, he must know what you’ve done.

“I deserve to die,” you tell him, your voice shaking as much as your body. “For all the evil I have done.”

Withers stares at you, his expression unchanged. “The sole way to atone for thine actions is to do better, in a new dawn,” he says - and gods, he smiles. He’s proud of you, you realize. Proud of your resistance. “That dawn has come,” he announces.

And if he will not be swayed, you suppose you won’t, either. You’re alive, whether you like it or not. Whatever pieces are left of you and the life you might live, you’ll put them together. You’ve done it before, and you’ll do it again.

The important thing is that you’re finally free.

“Bhaal tried to extinguish thee,” Wither observes, “but his wrath is imprecise. He only succeeded in killing the part of thee he knew. The Urge that drove thee to terrible acts. The spark of brutality that made thee his. But there is a new part of you that hath grown during thy travels. That part, Bhaal could not extinguish. And so, instead of destroying thee, he hath made thee anew.”

“You get to start over,” Astarion says. He gazes at you, a mixture of leftover fear and relief and care. “To be the person you want to be. Not what someone else made you to be.”

And gods - even in the worst of yourself, you know that he sees you - wants you, all the same. If you’re at his side, you’re sure you can do anything.

“Greet the bloodless dawn, child of none,” Withers says, and for once in the shabby remembrance of your life, the guilt that haunts you finally sweeps away.

Gortash knows you’re coming, you think. After your stint at the Iron Throne and the foundry that now lies in ash, he must. Your memories are mostly lost to the aether, but you do know this - he’s no fool.

Still, when you see him again, there’s that strange, leftover twinge of your past. It’s dead now; whatever warmth there was in his presence has become ice. Your old self has died along with your Urge, rotted away like your need for blood. After all, the part of you he cared for was maniacal. Brutal. Not as bad as Orin, perhaps, but deranged. It sickens you to know he cared for someone like that, when you’ve despised yourself so.

It sickens you even more to know that he knows no guilt for his actions. How much have you suffered over your own deeds? How often have you awoken in sweat, drenched from head to toe with the fleeting remnant of your past deeds tainting your mind?

And here he is, smug and so sure - of himself, of this path, of Bane. And he knows no regret, or guilt, he makes no apologies. A part of you may have once loved him, but no more. Whatever he’d once seen in you, it no longer remains.

You wonder if he can tell. After all you’ve done to him, after the havoc you’ve wreaked on his plan, does he realize that the person he cared for no longer exists? He seems not to. Not until Karlach launches at him and you draw your blade, willing to kill when it’s necessary but not craving an ounce of blood more.

The fight is long and brutal, but it’s familiar. You have your friends at your side, people you trust even more than yourself. It flies by in a blur, only ending when Karlach’s axe sinks into Gortash’s gut and he crumples to his knees, letting out a final rush of air before he goes still.

Like so many other events, this should feel triumphant, but it doesn’t. Like so many other things, this isn’t fair. Gortash is gone, yes, nothing more than a body on a floor, but there’s no celebration, no relief. 

Karlach has gotten her revenge, but she will never get her life back. She will never regain what he took from her. 

You have the Netherstones, yes. But gods - that doesn’t stop the sickening feeling deep inside.

You head home with nothing but grief and an aching body, your hand held tight in Astarion’s, and you finally allow yourself to fully mourn the life you’d lived - the things you’d done, and the people who no longer live because of you.

With Gortash finally gone, the air of the camp changes. You’re so close to your goal, but there’s an underlying tension that fills the air. It has you making your way to Astarion, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and nuzzling into his neck. 

He holds you close, his thumb trailing over the nape of your neck, and the action slackens the tension out of your muscles.

“So,” he starts, “how are you feeling, now that your old lover is gone?”

You huff, shaking your head. The action brushes your nose with his skin, and you can smell him all over you. The warmth of brandy, the sharpness of rosemary. “I don’t remember any of it,” you say, words soft. “I… don’t really feel anything.”

You recall his numbness after Cazador. Dame Aylin’s emptiness after smiting down Larroakan. Karlach’s grief after killing Gortash. Even after your fight with Orin, there hadn’t really been relief. Just… a sense of loss. 

He gently takes your face in his hands.

You’re scared, really. You’re so close to succeeding, so close to getting the tadpole out of your mind, and yet, you’re terrified out of your wits. What the hells are you supposed to do, now that failing holds the most weight?

“Do you really think we’ll win this?” you ask him. Your fear slips into your voice and breaks it, and you wince.

“Of course I do,” he says. “I don’t know about you, darling, but I have no intention of dying again.” He presses his lips to your forehead, the gentle touch soothing away your fear. “We’ll get through this. Trust me.”

And, despite the fear, the pain, the loss - despite every curve that life continually throws at you, every defeat you muster through, you know he’s right.

You’ll get through this; just like you always do.

[cherrieflavouredheadcanons]

hi hii! when you have the time, could you do headcanons for nikolai when he’s lovesick and pining for someone that he has a crush on? also pls stay safe from covid🙏🏾🙏🏾

…Oh god this took me so long to answer based on the stay safe from covid message. (Ik covid still exists but no one really wishes that anymore) I am so sorry for how long this took me to answer, I hope you like it! CW: Reader gets hurt (not by Nikolai), "Who did this to you?" trope used, Usual Nikolai behaviour GN Reader

Nikolai crushing on you

At first he doesn’t even realise he has developed a crush. Sure he likes being around you and annoying you, but he does that with everyone in his life so why should this be different? At least that is what he thinks. That is until he starts noticing the small details about you. Like how your nose scrunches up slightly when he is extra annoying or the twinkle in your eyes or the way your laugh can light up a room and -

Holy shit he has developed a crush. 

Nikolai is just confused when the realisation hits him. He honestly had no idea when or how it happened, suddenly you were everything he could think about and he longed to see you smile. If he was having a bad day a smile from you could make it better. 

Now let's be real here. Nikolai is not a subtle man. So his pining won’t be subtle either. He is not the type of guy who lovingly gazes at you and says nothing just to hope you will notice his yearning. He of course still lovingly gazes at you but that’s more something he does in secret and not his main form of pining.

His way of flirting is to be as annoying as possible. Be prepared for him to pop out at random moments and scare you, just so he can see your surprised face. Nikolai will also just get 100 times more clingy. You could do literally anything and you will have an Ukranian clown hanging around you. 

While you of course notice that he is more clingy, you don’t think much of it. Nikolai sometimes has random mood swings so who knows, maybe this was just one of them? He is a bit annoyed that you don’t catch up on his flirting and pining, because he thinks it's obvious.

While he still is his goofball self around you, there is one moment where you see a side of him you have never seen before, and it surprises you.

You somehow had gotten involved into a fight with some ability users and came out of it with bruises and a bit of blood on you. You had planned to just quickly get home and wash it off and treat your wounds. That was until Nikolai suddenly appeared out of nowhere to surprise hug you, making you yelp in pain because he had pressed on a bruise.

He let go immediately and took a good look at you, taking in your battered up sigh. His normally playful look turns cold and serious. His voice even drops deeper when he asks you “Who did this to you?” You don’t want to answer, knowing how he can get but he insists. When you look into his eyes you expect the crazy look he gets when he is about to go murder someone, but instead you see worry, fear and…love. All things you never expected to see in Nikolai’s eyes. Seeing how he looks at you, you decide to tell him who hurt you, though still somewhat reluctantly.

Once he has the information he needs, Nikolai kisses your forehead and leaves to take care of the people who hurt you. And maybe, once he is done and has disposed of them he is going to ask you out on a date. Afterall he deserves a reward for what he is about to do.

[nickel156]

I'M TIRED,

I’m tired of people pretending that Cassian’s behavior is anything close to love.

Cassian doesn’t love Nesta; he loves the idea of having a mate. There’s this desperate need in him to fill a void, to belong to someone, but it has nothing to do with Nesta as a person. He’s obsessed with the concept of a mate because it validates him in some way.

It’s like he needs the label to feel whole, but he never actually shows any genuine love or respect for Nesta herself. If anything, he treats her like a project, something to “fix,” rather than a partner he’s committed to growing with.

Let’s start with the fact that he never once tells Nesta he loves her. For a character who’s supposedly so passionate and driven by emotion, he’s shockingly silent when it comes to expressing any real feelings for her.

Sure, he tells her she’s beautiful, that he wants her, but does he ever look at her as a person and say, “I love who you are?” No. It’s always about her body, her physical presence. He’s drawn to her in a purely primal way, but there’s no depth to it. It’s as if he’s fixated on the idea of her as his mate, this mystical concept, but he doesn’t actually care about who she is beneath that label.

And then there’s the way he talks about her, or rather, the way he doesn’t. When he thinks of Nesta, it’s almost entirely about her body, about how she “tempts” him or “challenges” him. There’s nothing about her mind, her resilience, her intelligence—qualities that, honestly, are the best parts of Nesta. And even worse, he never talks about Nesta with the kind of respect or fondness he has for Mor. It’s actually kind of gross when you think about it.

Cassian is more emotionally open and reflective when he’s talking or thinking about Mor, his "sister" than he ever is about Nesta. With Mor, he shows this tender, protective side. But when it comes to Nesta? All he seems to care about is how “difficult” she is and how he’s somehow “suffering” through it, as if he’s some saint for putting up with her. It’s like he’s comparing his love for Mor with this toxic “passion” he’s convinced himself he feels for Nesta, and it’s just… ick.

And let’s be real, he treats her like absolute trash. He constantly belittles her, invalidates her trauma, and gaslights her. Remember when he tells her that “everyone hates her”? Or when he controls what she eats and forces her into situations she clearly doesn’t want? This isn’t love; it’s control.

Cassian wants a mate who fits into his mold, who he can “fix” so he can feel good about himself. He doesn’t care about who Nesta is or what she’s been through. He only sees her pain as an inconvenience, something he has to “deal with” because she’s his mate. Love isn’t supposed to be about changing someone, yet that’s all he ever tries to do with Nesta.

Cassian’s fixation on Nesta’s body and their physical relationship just further highlights how shallow his “love” for her really is. Every intimate moment between them is tainted by this feeling that he’s more interested in her body than her heart or mind.

He’s infatuated with the idea of claiming her, possessing her, but he doesn’t actually care about supporting her, growing with her, or even understanding her. It’s all surface-level attraction, with none of the depth or empathy that actual love requires.

In the end, Cassian doesn’t love Nesta. He’s infatuated with the idea of having a mate, but he doesn’t respect her, he doesn’t cherish her, and he definitely doesn’t see her for who she really is. If he did, he would treat her with the dignity and compassion she deserves. Instead, we get a man who constantly invalidates her, objectifies her, and thinks he’s doing her a favor by sticking around. That’s not love. That’s ego. And Nesta deserves a hell of a lot better.

[zaceouiswriting]

The Delinquent

Character: Theo Raeken x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in Teen Wolf

Warnings: Smut

Authors Note:

I know I'm a month late for my annual Theo Raeken Appreciation Month. But better late than never, right? On this blog, we know that Theo Raeken doesn't get the recognition he deserves (Or Cody Christian, his actor). That's why me, myself, and I have made it my mission to fill this world with as much Theo Raeken content as possible. I may not post every day (honestly, even posting once a week would be a treat at this point), but I promise to get out as much as humanly possible. And there will be a lot of smut. A lot of smut.

Please forgive me. As an apology, I'm including a GIF of this handsome man so nobody forgets how good he looks!

It had become much more intense than even you could have imagined in your wildest dreams. The same hands that punched you in the stomach that morning and that later punched you in the face were now holding your bare ass up. He had been in such a hurry to rip off your pants and underwear like an animal, that they would likely not be useable anymore. If you think about it, he was an animal but only in all the right ways.

His rough, large hands felt heavenly on your bare skin. You never knew what you were leaving out when you didn't get intimate with someone. Even though it wasn't love by any means, you don't think it could feel any better. It was clear that Theo was not just experienced but a master at it. Each thrust was meticulous, like a well-oiled machine, even if he didn't look at you.

You had heard - as everyone else - that he would fuck anything on two legs, but he was only seen with girls. It made you hope to be the first guy he fucked.

Only half of his cock was pushing in and out of your hole as it was much, much bigger than you expected. And even though you prepared for it every night - as you knew deep down it would happen someday - the thought of him couldn't prepare you for the real deal.

Suddenly, Theo jolted you out of your thoughts by forcefully slamming your back against a row of lockers. It was almost as if he wanted your undivided attention, but wasn't willing to reciprocate with the same. The openness of your activity made it even more tempting to you. Up until this point, you didn't even know you had this kink - to fuck in the open hallway of your school.

As he turned his head back to the side, you felt shame welling up. Fed up with his gamey, with your left hand, you grabbed his sharp jaw and forced him to look at you. The moment your eyes met, you saw nothing but contempt in his hazel, almost innocent-looking eyes. They were so beautiful when he was angry, but right then they sent a wave of excitement down your spine.

“Look at me while you fuck me,” you whispered to him, barely able to contain your lewd moans. You wanted nothing more than to scream, moan and groan. But you kept it to yourself, not wanting to show him how much you loved the feeling of his cock in your hole, how his hands were holding your ass so tenderly, spreading your cheeks and the roughness of his skin, or the way his eyes made you feel with the obviousness anger contained within them. The hopelessness of the situation in his glaring eyes made you stay hard.

“Fucking faggot,” he muttered angrily, but there was more that you couldn't pinpoint.

Smiling, you looked straight into his beautiful eyes. “Last time I looked, you were fucking me.”

He paused for a second, disbelief running across his face, just before he stopped being gentle and entered you fully. You could have sworn you felt something tear, but the way he hit that one spot inside, you couldn't feel pain or even think about it. Theo began to thrust upwards like the wild animal he was, which in return made him move closer to you. So much so that his head came right next to yours, panting heavily. He obviously liked it at least as much as you did, but his ego and pride surely wouldn't let him show it, which made him look even hotter in your eyes.

“Shut up, fucking whore!” Theo whispered in your ear. The closeness of his voice caused an obvious shiver throughout your body, coupled with his warm and moist breath tingling the fine hairs on your ear and neck. It finally broke whatever resolve you had. You started to moan loudly, and your hands buried themselves in his perfectly styled hair, to try holding onto him for dear life. “Do you like that?” he asked teasingly, an audible grin in his already teasing voice. But when you tried to answer, he thrust up at the first note, making you moan instead. “Fuck! You feel so good and you sound so fucking needy.”

The dirty talk was finally enough for you. As you came without touching yourself, you moaned in deathly embarrassment, one shot after another coming from your cock, which didn't go limp afterward.

“Fuck, stop milking me!” Theo moaned, not realizing he had made you cum. It wasn't until he moved his head back and saw your fucked out face, partially limp, with your head against the locker and not against his neck where it was just a second before. Theo looked intrigued, at least as your blurry eyes suggested. “Shit,” he muttered, pausing in his movements, “If you had shown me your naughty side earlier, I would have fucked you long ago,” he said to you, chuckling darkly.

He suddenly removed his right hand from your ass but somehow managed to hold you up with just one hand since you couldn't wrap your legs tightly around his waist anymore. Out of nowhere, he touched your face and gently caressed your cheek. Without a word though, he stuck his fingers into your mouth. Noticing it a second later, you slowly closed your lips around his strong fingers and licked them like they were a lollipop. But Theo forced it further down until his palm was against your face. You didn't gag or anything.

Realization hit Theo a few moments later. But still, in disbelief, he pulled his fingers out until a soft 'pop' was heard. He moaned at the sound so loudly that you thought he was coming. But just as suddenly as before, he started fucking you again, more relentlessly than before. Clearly excited about what he had just discovered. Somehow you knew it would lead to many more wet and slimy encounters.

Theo's hand went to your throat where he tightened his grip, restricting your breathing. But the only thing it did to you was make you want him to fuck you senseless.

Your eyes must have betrayed and you believed him starting to grin again. After all of that, it didn't take long for Theo to come. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth in ecstasy. Just a second later, he groaned loudly, filling your insides with endless amounts of his warm cum. With one particularly powerful spurt, his swollen cockhead pressed against your prostate so hard that you came a second time.

He collapsed against you as you felt his cum painting your insides like a masterpiece while simultaneously painting the outsides of him and yourself a similar color. As he carelessly breathed heavily into your neck, you became excited again. But when you heard a low rumble from him that almost sounded like a chuckle, you looked at him. You caught his big, scheming eyes staring at you, which made you blush.

He slowly lowered you back to the floor where you almost collapsed, but Theo was there to hold you tight. Your legs had never hurt so much. It took a few minutes, but when you were able to stand alone, Theo asked for the test answers, immediately, staring at you darkly again with his blank, murderous eyes, which he used for his gang activities, even though you believed he would someday build a massive underground empire. You just knew that you couldn't be on his wrong side. To comply with his request, you stumble towards your backpack and retrieve some documents. As you turn back to him, you notice his surprised expression.

“You had them with you the whole time?” he asked exasperated.

“Of course,” you replied plainly, hiding a grin. “I know you like to get your deals done quickly, so I finished it after my morning beating. All the answers to all kinds of questions,” you told him before hobbling away.

***

It was a week later when you were cornered by Theo again, his cronies were nowhere to be seen. Knowing why, you didn't show fear, even when he left you hanging in the air by your collar. You seemed like a lightweight to him, but you couldn't be mad about his fury, after all, you outsmarted him.

“Why the hell did I get an “F,” you fucking idiot?” Somehow, you imagined him as a foaming-at-the-mouth wolf, ready to attack you and rip your throat out. But the next moment you imagined him naked and only with dog ears, you immediately blushed. “What’s there to laugh about, faggot? I'll make you feel how stupid it was to-"

“I’m sorry,” you interrupted, eyes closed, preparing yourself for what was to come. But when you opened them again, there was nothing but self-confidence to be seen inside them, which confused Theo. You placed your right hand on his and looked deep into his hazelnut eyes. “You won’t hurt me anymore!” you told him calmly. 

It seemed like an order, which infuriated Theo even further, causing him to question whether you comprehend the power imbalance between the two of you.

Before Theo could argue, you pulled out your phone. You were about to say something and held the screen up to him. When Theo played the video and heard the lewd moans, he immediately shut it down, horror visible in his eyes.

“You filmed us?” he asked. Swallowing loudly, he waited for your answer, but you just grinned. “You stupid faggot,” he muttered crestfallen, his face in his hands.

“That’s funny,” you replied arrogantly. “The only person who's actually fucked another guy is you, and to be honest, from the way we're standing in the video, it looks a lot like... you know. What if people see it? Do you think they would see the same thing?”

You never thought you would see defeat in his eyes so quickly. Until then, you thought he would destroy your phone and think it was over. But he seemed to have realized that you were smarter than that, which you were since you had a dozen copies of them at home. You weren't ashamed of admitting to jerking off to it multiple times if he asked.

“What do you want?” he finally asked, his head bowed and his voice staggering. He wasn't attractive the way he was right then. Pushing him lightly so that he would have no other choice but to put you down again, until you stood strong before him.

With your free hand, you ran over his burgundy shirt, feeling every muscle of his - as you knew - divine body down to the edge of his pants. Without hesitation, you undid his button, as he simply stares at you, unable to say anything.

“I’m about to suck you off, but first I’d like to make a deal with you.”

Theo was already breathing heavily. It made you smirk, knowing you made a certain, rather lewd impression on him. Massaging his big, soft cock, it grew faster than you thought. But you decided against teasing him about it.

"The deal is that you'll be intimate with me every day until the end of the school year, for me not to show the video to anyone, and I'll help you leave this place as a straight-A student for me getting a favor in the future. But you would have to change your behavior a little or the teachers might think you were cheating.”

"What do you- Ahhh, damn it, tighten your grip- Yes, that's right." Theo was already in heaven and seemed to have forgotten the conversation you were having. But somehow he snapped back after a few seconds. "What do you mean?" He finally finished his question, albeit loudly swallowing.

Smiling, you scoffed at him. “Do you really think they would believe that a delinquent like you would suddenly become a great student?” You removed your hand from his, still on your collar, and pulled him by his collar closer to you. “But don’t worry, I’ll teach. But I think I deserve something special now.”

Theo looked confused, his eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes filled with many unanswered questions. You didn't feel like answering any of them, so you pulled him closer and kissed him. His lips tasted like mint, and before either of you knew it, your tongue was already entwined with his, dancing in perfect harmony.

[Masterlist]

[rootsofdread]

How do you think some women and men killers would treat us after putting their s/o through a lot of pain?

-Annoy🍄🩵

(Gonna love angst and fluff)

*nods sagely* we do gotta love it.

Amanda Young / The Pig:

Rarely, if ever, does Amanda feel remorse for anything she does. John taught her well, and she understands that what she’s doing is right. One of these rare moments of remorse is seeing the tears in your eyes when she throws you on a hook, or a genuine, pained cry when she fastens a reverse bear trap on your head. In those moments…she feels remorse. You keep coming back, after all, you survive. You choose life, you don’t need to be tested any longer…on some level, it confuses her as much as it hurts her to do these things to you. But she knows she’s hurt you more. She holds you close, whispering sincere apologies to you, you don’t deserve to be tested over and over, while you’re nuzzled under her jaw. She knows you’re grateful.

Charlotte Deshayes (and Victor) / The Twins:

It likely goes without saying, but Charlotte feels…absolutely awful when she has to hurt you. Every time, without fail, it never gets any easier for her, and she hates seeing you so upset because of it, too. She’s hovering around you constantly after a particularly tough trial, checking on you, telling you she loves you, giving you little squeezy-hugs when she can. She’ll even send Victor for you if she can’t tend to you for any reason, and he may not be the best, but he knows what helps Charlotte feels better and he’ll do the same for you, like holding your hand or cuddling up in your lap. It’s his way of telling you sorry, both on Charlotte’s behalf, and his own. At the end of the day, Charlotte just wants the best for you, and it tears her apart when she has to hurt you so badly like that.

Kazan Yamaoka / The Oni:

Never has Kazan been known for his kindness nor his compassion; but when you’re upset with him, he’s a completely different man. He knows he’s doing what is right, punishing those that need it, but he knows you’ve done nothing wrong. He takes no joy in hurting you. Unlike everyone else…you don’t deserve it. And he lets you know that, that you shouldn’t be caught up in his duties. He will always tell you that he’s sorry that it has to be this way, and he holds you close to his chest. He lets you do whatever you feel like you need to do to decompress: yell, scream, cry, beat your fists against his chest. As long as you feel better by the end, and you know that you don’t deserve any little bit of it, that’s perfect for him.

Elliot Spencer / The Cenobite:

Most people would honestly be genuinely shocked by how gently Elliot treats you “behind the scenes.” Nobody would expect it from a cenobite, much less the leader of the gash. On days after he had to hurt you so badly, he’s all gentle touches and gentle words. His hands caressing your shoulders or your lower back, he knows that it hurts, he knows you must be angry at him. But you must know that the more pain you go through, the more divine you become. One day, it won’t hurt at all anymore. But until then, he’s here for you, to hold your hand, guide you, and help you through it all. He assures you, all this, one day, will make you better than the rest.

[risuola]

Yoohoo!! Love your work, darling!

May I request a Megumi X reader for 22, 33, and 34?

Smut is optional honestly, free wheel!

Angst would be there I suppose.

Cheating? As you wish.

Violence and darkness? All up to you, darling.

I hope you have fun writing!

ALL MAD AND POUTY — F. READER x FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

Megumi might not be the best in expressing his feelings, so it's no wonder why when he saw you getting up close and personal with his best friend Yuji, he got all mad and pouty.

cw: angst, characters are aged up to 18+, cheating implied, hurt and blood briefly mentioned, fluff at the end — 2,1k words

PROMPTS: 22. You’ve got what you deserved. 33. It’s not what it looks like. 34. So, you cheated with my best friend?

a/n: thank you for the request! it gave me a chance to write for Megumi, so for me it's a win :3

"Why didn't you use your divine dogs?" you coughed, frustration evident in your voice as you pressed your hands onto the deep wound on your side, trying to stop the heavy bleeding. It was easily avoidable; you wouldn't have had to suffer the blow if your boyfriend had reacted as he usually did. But he looked at you from above, his eyes piercingly cold.

"I've decided they're unnecessary," he shrugged, unfazed by the crimson that was slowly soaking through your clothes. "Shoko will probably heal you, it doesn't look critical."

"Wow, that's great, thanks Megumi," muttering, you collected yourself from the ground and went straight to the car, so that Ijichi could drive you back to the high school and you could seek medical help. Fushiguro followed and in the back seat, you leaned against his shoulder, trying to find some comfort in the pain that pulsed through your nervous system, but he flinched the moment your head rested on his body.

"Can you sit up straight? I'm kinda tired."

"And I'm bleeding. What's the matter, Megu?"

"Well, you got what you deserved."

"What I deserv- what does that even mean, what I deserved?" you couldn't believe what you were hearing. One thing you were certain of – Megumi was angry and you had no idea why.

Two days had passed since Megumi had deliberately refused to help you on the battlefield. Your wounds were messy, but Shoko managed to treat them so well that you couldn't feel much more than subtle discomfort in your side, and to be honest, you were more consumed by thoughts of your partner's unusual behavior than anything else. Back in the car, he avoided any further conversation, turned his body to the window, sneering and paying you no mind for the entire ride, and you gave up trying to force the issue. When you arrived, he simply went his way, leaving you covered in blood, fortunately in the hands of Ijichi.

But his act had to have a reason, he wouldn't go all mad and pouty for nothing, and he certainly wouldn't endanger you for nothing. Well, you liked to think he wouldn't put you in danger even if you suddenly became his enemy, but things apparently changed.

"Megumi, may I?" you asked, knocking lightly on his door and pressing the handle, only to find that he locked the entrance. "Hey, Megu, we should talk."

"Do we have anything to talk about? I'm a little busy," his voice reached your ears from inside the room, a tone indifferent and cold, but you knew better than to believe it. There was a subtle undertone of hurt in both his voice and his demeanor, and the fact that you might have done something to hurt him sent you into a spiral of guilt and panic attacks. You spent two nights unable to sleep because of the raging thoughts in your head.

"Please talk to me, I need to know what happened. Hey, baby?" you tried, knocking again, this time softly, just to let him know that you're close and waiting. "Megumi, I won't leave before we talk. I'll stay here even if for the whole night."

Fushiguro groaned in annoyance. He really had no desire to look at you, listen to you or do anything with you. The fake, poisonous smiles you had been giving him for the last month made him sick of you, of Itadori, shit, he was even angry at Nobara, because who else would know everything if not her. Megumi felt stupid for not noticing it earlier, but when it hit him, it hit him hard.

That day, a month ago, he returned to school earlier than planned. His solo mission went smoother than expected and his mood was light and bright when he got out of Ijichi's car. He hoped to quickly reunite with his friends, who he always said annoyed him, but everyone knew it was his way of showing affection. He was also especially happy to reunite with you, his absolute best companion, a favorite person in the world, his love and his girlfriend. Quietly, as he always did, he approached Itadori's room, from where a mixture of soft laughter reached his ears. The doors were unlocked, slightly ajar, and he wanted to push them open, but then he heard your voice.

"We can't tell Fushiguro about this," you said cheerfully, your tone breathless and absolutely worn out, and he knew that sound. He heard it before, so he held his breath and peeked inside.

"He would feed me to his dogs if he knew," Itadori was just as exhausted, joyful as he held you in his arms, lying on the bed with you on top of him. Quickly, Megumi retreated and padded back to his own room, as if he hadn't seen anything, but the image stood clear and sharp in front of his eyes, every time he saw you after that. On the same day, you approached him with open arms, with so much something that he thought was love. He couldn't help but wonder what was it if not love?

His door swung open aggressively, almost making you trip, and when you looked up at him, you could see anger twisting his usually calm features. Your heart clenched at the sight of his furrowed brow, his narrow, dark eyes, and his tight jaw.

"Gumi, hey," you tried to reach for his hand, but he pulled back, letting you into his room but refusing to touch you. "Did I do something to hurt you?"

"I don't know, did you?" he snapped, kicking his doors shut with a loud thud.

"You tell me. Please, Megu, I don't understand what's gotten into you lately. Yuji told me that you avoid him as much as you avoid me, we're both confused, I-"

"Of course, Yuji cried to you about it. You seem close, huh?"

"We're friends?"

"Friends, sure," Megumi stood tall above you and you looked up at him with so much confusion, it angered him even more. Unable to control his emotions, he grabbed your wrist and pushed you against the nearest wall, slamming his other hand right next to your head. You winced, shocked to the core and genuinely frightened by the sudden burst of aggression. You knew, you hoped, that he wouldn't hurt you, but as you remembered your last mission together, you began to have doubts.

"Megu-"

"I saw you." he cut in. " A month ago, I saw you and Itadori in his room. Panting, you were lying on top of him, laughing that you could not tell me about it," Megumi scoffed, almost freezing you to death with his icy gaze and his equally cold tone. "Hah, Itadori was afraid that I would feed him to my dogs if I found out, and to be honest, I thought about it, but I don't want them to get sick."

"What? Christ, I would never..."

"You're always so bubbly and touchy with Itadori, and I get it, I'm not that warm and emotional, I guess, but if it's not me you want, then why bother, huh?" he growled, spitting words with rage as his fingers dug into the wall next to your head. “I couldn’t give you what you wanted, so you cheated with my best friend?”

“Megumi, it’s not what it looks like.”

"If it's not what it looks like, then what is it? How could you end up so out of breath, in my friend's bed, on top of him, huh?"

You were silent for a moment. All his words hurt you to the core, and you tried to replay the situation he's referring to. You remembered that day you were in Yuji's room, but were you that careless to draw a picture so suggestive?

"Why didn't you tell me earlier that you saw this? Why didn't you tell me anything?" you asked, exhaling deeply, angry at yourself for hurting the boy you loved so much. "I never wanted to hurt you, Megumi."

"I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, you know? I tried to find a reasonable explanation for what I saw and I watched your interactions with Yuji. It all seems pretty self-explanatory."

"It's really not like that."

"Fuck, I hate this," he groaned, stepping back and distancing himself from you in a few large steps. It hurt, it hurt him so much. You were his first love and Yuji was his first friend and yet the two of you, together, behind his back. He couldn't understand it, he hated it. "Why the hell are you lying? I saw you. I heard you."

"Megumi," you tried, but he didn't listen. Every time you wanted to grab him, to ground him, he just snapped your hands away, looked at you with so much pain that it felt like the sadness in his voice burned scars on your skin, seeped into your heart. You wanted to cry, you wanted to hug him and tell him it's okay, it's not like that, but he wouldn't listen. He wouldn't let you speak, he snapped at you harder and harder. His hands flew, his eyes tore you apart. You saw the glisten of tears in them, he was so hurt and you knew that if he started to cry, you'd lose it.

Forcibly, you took him by his clothes, then wrapped your hands around his middle and spun him around. Losing his balance, he grabbed your shoulders trying to stop the momentum, but you pulled him through the dance. Finally, his knees hit the edge of his bed and he collapsed with your weight on top of him.

"This is pretty much how I ended up on top of Yuji in his bed," you explained, loosening your grip around him. "But with less force and more joy. We were happy, we laughed and hugged. Yuji is strong, he lifted me up, turned some circles and lost his balance." A sigh left your lungs as you rolled off of his body and fell onto the bed next to him. "We were planning for your birthday. We know you hate that day because Gojo always does something so extra and embarrassing... we wanted to take you on a trip, just you, me, Yuji and Kugisaki. We planned movies, mini golf, lots of your favorite foods and also some general chill, away from Jujutsu high and Gojo-sensei. But Yuji insisted on doing something cheesy, like bringing you the biggest cake with our wishes hand-written on it, and making it dark and fancy, but with bursting sprinkles inside, so that when you cut into it, you'd automatically be covered in colorful confetti. Yeah, he thought you'd feed him to your dogs if you found out. This was all supposed to be a surprise for you, we already made some arrangements. Fuck, we knew you'd probably hate the idea of a party anyway, so we were desperate to keep it secret, and we planned most of it while you were away on missions."

"What are you talking about...? My birthday is-"

"In a month. It's already November, your birthday is in few weeks."

Megumi fell silent. The year flew by, he didn't even notice a change in the weather, he just lived through it somehow, and now it was almost December. Everything you said echoed in his head, somehow slowly making more and more sense. He was so focused on finding proof of your affair with Yuji that he had ignored every remark Nobara made about the upcoming party. And lately, you were making more calls, always stepping aside so he wouldn't hear you. A few times he saw you sneaking out with Yuji, who was smiling like an idiot. Megumi didn't even think of any other reason for all that.

"So that's it?"

"Yes, idiot. I love Yuji, he's like my brother. You are my boyfriend, you are my absolute favorite grumpy and pouty person in the whole universe. I wish you would have come to me sooner.”

"I hate surprises..." Fushiguro grumbled and covered his face with his hands, feeling stupid but also relieved. It was as if the heaviest weight had been lifted from his shoulders, his chest felt lighter than it had in weeks, and he began to laugh. "Damn, how I hate surprises."

"Well, that's good, because this one is definitely ruined," you muttered, getting up from the bed. "But now you're going to pretend like you don't know anything and you're going to take this confetti right in your face and thank for it, because I'm not going to ruin Yuji and Nobara's efforts with the fact that I had to tell you."

"Okay," he sat up as well and wrapped his arms around your waist, preventing you from walking away as he pressed his face to your stomach. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, baby," you brushed through his hair with your fingers.

"And I'm sorry I let you get hurt."

"Well, I still love you, so I guess that's okay too."

[muiitoloko]

See Me

Summary: Metatron, the former Voice of God, faces his greatest challenge: loving and protecting a human from a distance, unseen and unheard.

Pairing: Metatron × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst

Author's Notes: Honestly, I have no idea why I wrote this—just got hit with a sudden urge for some good old angsty, cliché vibes and had to roll with it! 😅

Also read on Ao3

When all this began, Metatron was furious. The idea of being demoted from God's spokesperson, the Voice of the Almighty Himself, to a mere guardian angel was unthinkable. He had been the one who spoke God's will, who delivered divine messages with a biting wit and an air of celestial authority. Now, he was expected to guard a single human life, and a newborn at that. It was a role that felt beneath him, a task for lesser angels, not for someone of his rank and stature.

But there was no arguing with the man upstairs. God's decisions were absolute, unchangeable, and Metatron, despite his anger and frustration, had to accept this new role. He took it with the reluctance of a soldier sent to clean the latrines after years on the battlefield, and when he first laid eyes on you—the newborn baby he was supposed to guard—he felt nothing but resentment. What was so special about you that he had to waste his existence watching over your every mundane moment?

And so, with a heart heavy with disdain, Metatron began his task. He watched over you as you grew from an infant into a little girl, your parents' first child and clear afterthought. It didn't take long for him to notice the imbalance in your household, how your parents lavished attention on your younger brother while you were left in the shadows. You never seemed to mind, never voiced a complaint, always the quiet, unassuming child who asked for nothing and expected even less. But Metatron could see how it hurt you, how you longed for a kind word, a gentle touch, anything to show that you were loved, too.

Years passed, and the little girl grew into a young woman. A kind woman—too kind, Metatron often thought with a bitter edge. Kind to everyone around you, even when they didn’t deserve it. You gave and gave until there was nothing left, and still, you smiled, still you pretended that it didn’t matter, that you were content with the crumbs of affection you received.

But Metatron saw through it all. He had watched you for years, after all. He knew that your kindness was a mask, a way to protect yourself from the endless disappointments that life had thrown at you. Your parents, who never saw you; your brother, who took their love for granted; your ex boyfriend, who used your gentleness as a convenience; your friends, who abandoned you when you needed them most. You were not the fool you appeared to be, not the oblivious girl who floated through life without a care. You were sharp, intelligent, and painfully aware of every slight, every cold shoulder, every broken promise.

Metatron hated it. He hated how they treated you, hated how you let them, hated the world for being so blind to your worth. And yet, despite all his celestial power, he could do nothing. He was bound by rules, by divine decree, unable to interfere in the ways that mattered most. He could only watch as you smiled through your pain, as you laughed with those who didn’t deserve your joy, as you loved with a heart that was destined to be broken time and time again.

And somewhere along the way, amidst the anger and frustration, Metatron began to feel something he never expected: affection. It started small, a quiet appreciation for your resilience, for the way you held yourself together when the world seemed intent on tearing you apart. But it grew, steadily, inexorably, until he found himself thinking of you not as a duty, not as a burden, but as something precious. Someone precious.

He knew it was wrong. He was an angel, a being of pure spirit, created to serve God’s will. He was not meant to feel, not like this, not with such intensity. But the more he watched you, the more he grew to admire you—your strength, your kindness, your intelligence hidden beneath that façade of simplicity. You were so much more than the world saw, so much more than anyone gave you credit for

But you were also fragile, your heart worn thin by years of neglect and quiet suffering. Metatron wanted nothing more than to reach out, to touch your cheek, to tell you that you were not alone, that someone saw you, truly saw you, and cared. But he couldn’t. He was bound by the very laws that had demoted him, and so he remained at a distance, watching over you, protecting you from the shadows, always close but never close enough.

And the anger that had once filled him—anger at his demotion, at the unfairness of it all—had slowly transformed into something else. It was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but now it was directed at the world that had hurt you, at the people who had failed you. And it was tempered by a deep, aching love that he could never express, a love that he knew would remain unspoken for all eternity.

Metatron had watched over countless lives in his long existence, but you were different. You had changed him in ways he didn’t fully understand, had softened the edges of his celestial being, made him feel things he never thought possible. And it terrified him, this attachment, this love that defied all the rules of heaven and earth.

But he couldn’t turn away. Even if it meant enduring the pain of watching you suffer, even if it meant standing by as others hurt you, Metatron knew he would stay by your side. Because you were worth it. Because in a world full of shadows, you were the only light he had left.

And so, he continued to watch, to guard, to love you from a distance, hoping that one day, somehow, you would find the happiness you deserved. And though he could never be the one to give it to you, he would be there, always, watching over you, protecting you from the worst the world could offer, even if it meant sacrificing his own peace.

For what was an angel without his purpose? And Metatron had found his, in you.

That night, Metatron sat unseen in the armchair across from you, his hazel eyes watching intently as you moved around the living room, carefully setting out snacks and arranging cushions for the movie night you had planned. Your movements were meticulous, your expression one of quiet anticipation, as if this night meant more to you than you would ever admit. You had invited your friends, or at least those you thought of as friends, hoping for a few hours of laughter and camaraderie. Metatron couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness at how much you invested in these people who had proven time and time again that they didn’t deserve your kindness.

He watched as you placed the final bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, stepping back to survey your work. You seemed satisfied, a small smile playing on your lips as you reached for your phone to check the time. They were supposed to arrive any minute now, and you were ready, hopeful even. But as Metatron sat there, unseen and unheard, he knew what was coming.

It wasn’t long before your phone buzzed in your hand, the screen lighting up with a message. Your smile faltered slightly as you read it, but you quickly forced it back into place, your kind nature refusing to let disappointment take root.

"Hey, I’m so sorry, but my grandmother is sick, and I need to stay home tonight. Rain check?"

Metatron’s eyes narrowed. He knew the truth—your so-called friend wasn’t home with a sick grandmother. No, they were out, laughing and drinking with others, not sparing a single thought for the invitation they had so casually dismissed. But you didn’t know that, and as always, you believed their excuse, sending back a message full of well-wishes and understanding.

"It's okay, take care of her! We’ll do it another time," you typed, your fingers moving quickly over the keys before you set your phone down, that hopeful smile still lingering, though it had lost some of its shine.

But the night was only just beginning, and as you busied yourself in the kitchen, preparing a drink to go with the snacks, the phone buzzed again. Another message, another excuse. Metatron saw the way your shoulders tensed, the slight pause before you picked up the phone again, your eyes scanning the words as your heart sank a little further.

"Something came up last minute. I’m really sorry, but I can’t make it tonight. Hope you have fun though!"

Again, you believed them, because that was who you were. You always saw the best in people, always gave them the benefit of the doubt, even when they repeatedly let you down. Metatron watched as you sent another understanding reply, but he could see the cracks beginning to form in your carefully constructed armor. He could feel the weight of your disappointment, even if you wouldn’t acknowledge it yourself.

And so it went, one after another. Your phone buzzed, you read the message, and each time, your expression grew a little more resigned, a little more defeated. By the time the last message came through, you were sitting on the couch, your phone clutched in your hand as you read the final excuse.

"Sorry, I totally forgot I had plans tonight. Maybe next time?"

That one hurt. Metatron could see it in the way your eyes lingered on the screen, your thumb hovering over the keys as you tried to find the right words to reply. You wanted to believe them, wanted to think that they had genuinely forgotten, that it wasn’t intentional. But deep down, a part of you knew the truth. They hadn’t forgotten. They just didn’t care enough to remember.

Still, you sent a reply, something kind and understanding, as you always did. But the energy had drained from you, the excitement that had once filled the room now replaced by a heavy, oppressive silence. Metatron hated that silence. He hated how you just accepted their behavior, how you allowed them to hurt you over and over again without ever standing up for yourself. But more than that, he hated how he was powerless to do anything about it.

You sat there for a while, staring at the screen of your phone as if hoping for a miracle, for someone to change their mind, to show up at your door and make the night what you had hoped it would be. But no one came. No one messaged. And eventually, you set the phone down with a sigh, reaching for the remote to start the movie you had planned to watch with them—now watching alone.

Metatron wished he could tell you that he was there too, that he was watching with you. He wished he could comfort you, let you know that someone cared, that someone saw you, truly saw you. But you didn’t hear him, didn’t see him, didn’t feel him. You were alone, just as you had been so many times before.

The movie played on, but you weren’t really watching. Your mind was elsewhere, replaying the messages, the excuses, trying to convince yourself that they were genuine, that they hadn’t meant to hurt you. But then, your phone buzzed again, and this time, Metatron knew it would break your heart.

You picked up the phone, your eyes widening slightly as you saw the notification. One of your friends had posted a picture, a group shot of them all out together, laughing, drinks in hand, the night filled with the kind of joy you had hoped to share with them. You stared at the screen, your heart sinking as you realized they hadn’t just canceled—they had gone out without you.

They hadn’t forgotten to invite you. They just didn’t want you there.

Metatron watched as the tears welled up in your eyes, your hands trembling slightly as you set the phone down, your gaze fixed on the screen. You tried to hold it together, tried to tell yourself that it was a mistake, that they hadn’t meant to leave you out, that there was some reasonable explanation. But deep down, you knew. You always knew.

He hated how you never seemed to see the bad in people, how you always looked for the best, even when they repeatedly showed you that they didn’t deserve it. He hated how they hurt you, how they took advantage of your kindness, your generosity, and left you with nothing in return.

And yet, despite everything, you still believed in them. You still wanted to believe that they cared, that they were your friends. It was a kind of stubborn optimism that both infuriated and endeared you to Metatron, but in moments like this, it was more than he could bear.

He wished he could reach out, touch your cheek, wipe away the tears that threatened to spill over. He wished he could tell you that you were worth so much more than the way they treated you, that you deserved friends who loved you, who saw you, who valued you for the incredible person you were. But he couldn’t. He was bound by the laws of heaven, and so he remained in the shadows, watching as you curled up on the couch, your arms wrapped around yourself as if trying to hold the pieces of your broken heart together.

The movie played on, but you didn’t watch it. Your mind was too full of the images on your phone, the laughter and joy that you were so painfully excluded from. Metatron wished he could tear the world apart for you, make it right, make them see what they were missing. But all he could do was sit there, powerless, watching as the tears finally fell, silent and unnoticed, just like you.

And as the night wore on, Metatron’s heart ached with a pain that was all too human. Because in that moment, he realized that no matter how much he loved you, no matter how much he wanted to protect you, there was nothing he could do to heal the wounds that others had inflicted on your heart.

All he could do was watch over you, love you from a distance, and hope that one day, you would find someone who could see you the way he did—someone who would never let you cry alone.

Later that night, after the painful realization that you had been excluded from yet another gathering, Metatron watched as you moved through your bedtime routine with a sense of resigned heaviness. He had observed this ritual many times before, each movement familiar and practiced, but tonight, there was a sadness in you that he hadn’t seen in a long time—a sadness that tugged at something deep within him.

You brushed your teeth, washed your face, and changed into your nightgown, the fabric soft and comforting against your skin. But there was no comfort to be found in the familiar routine tonight. Your movements were slow, almost mechanical, as if you were going through the motions without really feeling them. Metatron noticed how your shoulders slumped, how your gaze seemed distant, how your eyes were red-rimmed from the tears you had tried so hard to hide.

When you finally finished, you walked over to your bed, the room dimly lit by the small lamp on your nightstand. Metatron’s eyes followed your every move as you knelt beside the bed, your hands clasped together, your head bowed in prayer. This was how you always ended your day, no matter how difficult or lonely it had been—you always prayed, always spoke to God as if He were right there beside you, listening to every word.

But tonight, there was a heaviness in your voice as you began to speak, a tremor that betrayed the depth of your sadness. Metatron leaned forward slightly, his heart aching with a pain he wished he could take away, as he listened to your prayer.

“Father,” you began softly, your voice barely above a whisper, “thank you for another day, for the health and strength to get through it. Thank you for my family, my friends, and for the people I was able to help today at the hospital.”

You paused, your voice trembling slightly as you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Metatron could see the way your hands clenched together, your knuckles white as you fought to keep your emotions in check.

“Please, watch over them,” you continued, your voice wavering. “Watch over my parents, my brother, and… and my friends. Keep them safe, Father, and give them the happiness they deserve.”

There was another pause, longer this time, as if you were struggling to find the words to say. Metatron watched as a single tear slipped down your cheek, your eyes closing tightly as you tried to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

“I… I don’t want to be ungrateful,” you whispered, your voice thick with anguish. “I know I have so much to be thankful for, and I try, I really do. But… I feel so alone, Father. So alone, and… and I don’t know what to do.”

Metatron’s heart broke at the sound of your confession, the raw vulnerability in your voice cutting through him like a knife. He wanted to reach out, to comfort you, to tell you that you weren’t alone, that he was there, watching over you, caring for you in ways you could never imagine. But he was bound by the laws of heaven, unable to reveal himself, unable to give you the comfort you so desperately needed.

Your voice shook as you continued, your words spilling out in a rush of emotion. “I try to be strong, to be kind, to see the good in people, but… but it’s so hard, Father. It’s so hard when… when they don’t see me, when they don’t care. I try to be a good friend, a good daughter, but… but it feels like no one wants me. Like I’m just… invisible.”

Another tear fell, and then another, until they were streaming down your face, your body trembling with the effort of holding back the sobs that threatened to escape. Metatron could feel your pain, your loneliness, as if it were his own, and it took everything in him not to cry out, not to break the rules that bound him and reveal himself to you, to tell you that you were seen, that you were loved, even if you didn’t know it.

You bowed your head lower, your voice barely audible now as you spoke the words that had been weighing on your heart for so long. “Father… please… help me. I don’t know how much longer I can keep going like this. I’m so tired of being alone, of being… unloved. I just… I just want someone to care. Someone to see me… for who I really am.”

Your voice broke on the last word, and with it, the dam of emotions you had been holding back for so long finally burst. You buried your face in your hands, your sobs muffled against the bed as you cried out all the pain, all the loneliness, all the heartache that had been building up inside you for years.

Metatron felt his own tears welling up, his heart shattering at the sight of your suffering. He had watched over you for so long, had seen every tear, every heartbreak, every moment of loneliness, and it had taken everything in him not to intervene, not to break the rules and offer you the comfort you so desperately needed.

But tonight, as he watched you cry, as he listened to your anguished prayer, something inside him snapped. He couldn’t just sit there, invisible, powerless, while you suffered. He couldn’t just watch as you cried yourself to sleep, believing that you were unloved, unseen, when nothing could be further from the truth.

For a moment, Metatron considered defying the rules, revealing himself to you, showing you the love and care that he had been holding back for so long. But he knew that it was impossible, that it would only cause more harm than good. And so, he did the only thing he could—he prayed.

“Father,” Metatron whispered, his voice choked with emotion as he gazed at you, his heart aching with a love that he could never express, “please, give her the comfort she needs. Let her know that she is not alone, that she is loved, even if she can’t see it. Let her feel my presence, if only for a moment, and let her know that I am here, watching over her, caring for her.”

And as you cried yourself to sleep, your prayer still lingering in the air, Metatron remained by your side, his unseen hand hovering just above your cheek, so close but never close enough. He stayed there, watching over you, guarding you, loving you in the only way he could.

And as the night stretched on, Metatron made a silent vow to himself. He would do everything in his power to protect you, to guide you, to help you find the happiness you deserved. And even if you never knew he was there, even if you never saw him, he would never leave your side.

Because in a world full of shadows, you were his light, his purpose, his reason for being.

And he would love you, from a distance, for all eternity.

As the days passed, Metatron continued his silent vigil, watching over you as you navigated the challenges of your life with the same quiet resilience that had drawn him to you in the first place. Today, he accompanied you to the hospital where you worked, his presence unseen but ever vigilant. You were a pediatric doctor, a role that suited you perfectly, given your boundless compassion and patience. It was in the hospital that Metatron saw the truest reflection of your heart, the way you poured yourself into caring for the children, giving them your time, your love, and your undivided attention.

The children adored you. To them, you were more than just a doctor—you were a friend, a protector, someone who made their days in the sterile, often frightening environment of the hospital a little brighter. They loved you because you saw them, truly saw them, in a way that others often didn’t. You took the time to listen to their stories, to comfort them when they were scared, to make them laugh even when they were in pain. And in return, they gave you their trust, their affection, and, most importantly, their honesty.

Metatron watched with a mixture of admiration and concern as you moved from one patient to the next, your demeanor calm and professional, yet always with a warmth that set you apart from the other doctors. You were in your element here, surrounded by the children you loved, and for a few hours, at least, you could forget the loneliness that plagued you outside these walls.

Today, one of your patients was a little girl named Sophie, a bright-eyed child with a contagious smile despite the illness that kept her in the hospital. She had always been one of your favorites, and Metatron knew it. There was something about her spirit, her resilience, that reminded him of you. As you entered her room, Sophie’s face lit up, and she greeted you with the kind of enthusiasm that only children seemed capable of.

“Doctor!” Sophie exclaimed, her voice filled with joy as she reached out for your hand. “I’ve been waiting for you all day!”

You smiled warmly as you took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “And I’ve been looking forward to seeing you, too,” you replied, your voice soft and full of affection. “How are you feeling today, Sophie?”

Sophie’s smile faltered slightly as she thought about her answer, but she quickly brightened again, determined not to let her discomfort show. “I’m okay,” she said with a shrug, her tone a little too casual for a child her age. “But I wanted to tell you something!”

“Oh?” you asked, your curiosity piqued as you sat down beside her bed, your full attention on the little girl. “What’s that?”

Sophie leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she whispered, “Doctor Marques likes you! He told me!”

Metatron, who had been hovering nearby, listening intently, felt a surge of irritation at the mention of Colin Marques. Doctor Marques was a natural flirt, the kind of man who spread his charms indiscriminately, with little regard for the feelings he left in his wake. Metatron had seen his type before—men who were all too happy to take advantage of someone’s kindness, to make promises they had no intention of keeping. And the idea that Marques might be trying to worm his way into your life, into your heart, made Metatron’s blood boil.

You laughed softly, a sound that Metatron usually found comforting, but now it only made him more agitated. “Is that so?” you asked, your voice playful as you ruffled Sophie’s hair. “And what did Doctor Marques say exactly?”

Sophie giggled, clearly delighted to be sharing what she considered a very important secret. “He said you’re the prettiest doctor in the whole hospital, and that he likes talking to you because you’re nice. He said he wants to take you out for dinner!”

Metatron clenched his jaw, his hands curling into fists as he fought to keep his composure. This was exactly what he had been afraid of. Marques was nothing but trouble, and the thought of him trying to charm his way into your life, to take advantage of your kindness and generosity, was enough to make Metatron want to interfere in ways he knew he shouldn’t.

You, of course, took Sophie’s words in stride, smiling at the girl’s enthusiasm. “Well, that’s very sweet of Doctor Marques,” you said, your tone light and nonchalant. But Metatron could see the faint blush that crept into your cheeks, the way you ducked your head slightly as if embarrassed by the attention. He knew you well enough by now to recognize that, despite your dismissive tone, the idea of someone showing interest in you wasn’t something you took lightly. You had spent so long feeling invisible, unappreciated, that even the smallest bit of attention was enough to make you wonder if maybe, just maybe, you were worth noticing after all.

But Metatron knew better. Marques wasn’t interested in you for the right reasons. He was a man driven by ego and desire, and the idea of winning over someone as sweet and unassuming as you probably appealed to his sense of conquest. It wasn’t about love, or even genuine affection—it was about the thrill of the chase, the satisfaction of knowing he could have you if he wanted.

And Metatron would be damned if he let that happen.

Over the next few days, Metatron made it his mission to keep Marques at bay. He couldn’t interfere directly—his powers were bound by the laws of heaven—but there were other ways to make sure Marques stayed away from you. Little things, subtle things, that the doctor wouldn’t even notice. A misplaced file here, a scheduling conflict there, a sudden page that called him away just as he was about to approach you. It was all too easy for someone with Metatron’s celestial abilities, and he took a certain grim satisfaction in watching Marques grow increasingly frustrated as his attempts to get closer to you were thwarted at every turn.

The other angels noticed, of course. The guardian angels assigned to the children you cared for, and even Marques’ own guardian, a rather irritable angel named Maraues, were quick to pick up on Metatron’s interference. They didn’t like it—they were bound by the same rules as Metatron, after all, and they knew how important it was to respect the boundaries set by the Almighty.

But Metatron didn’t care. Let them talk, let them frown and shake their heads. He knew what he was doing was right. You deserved better than Marques, better than the casual flirts and smooth talkers who would only end up hurting you in the end. You deserved someone who truly saw you, who loved you for who you were, not for what they could take from you.

And if Metatron had to play dirty to keep Marques away, then so be it.

One day, as you were finishing up your rounds, Metatron noticed Marques lingering near your office, a bouquet of flowers in hand and a hopeful smile on his face. It was clear that he was planning to ask you out, to finally make his move after days of trying to catch you alone. Metatron’s eyes narrowed as he considered his options, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a way to prevent this encounter.

As Marques started to approach your office, Metatron acted quickly. A slight flick of his wrist, a whispered word in the ancient language of angels, and the door to your office suddenly swung open, revealing you standing there, your expression one of surprise as you saw Marques standing just outside, flowers in hand.

But before Marques could speak, Metatron intervened once more. He sent a sharp, insistent thought to one of the nurses down the hall, and within seconds, the nurse appeared, rushing up to Marques with a look of urgency on her face.

“Doctor Marques, we need you in the ER right away!” she said, her voice breathless with urgency. “There’s been a serious accident, and they need your help immediately!”

Marques hesitated, clearly torn between his desire to talk to you and his duty as a doctor. But in the end, duty won out, and with a frustrated sigh, he handed the flowers to the nurse, instructing her to give them to you before hurrying off down the hall, leaving you standing there, bewildered and alone.

Metatron couldn’t help but smirk as he watched Marques’ retreating form. It wasn’t the most honorable way to handle things, but it was effective. And that was all that mattered.

But as you stood there, holding the bouquet that had been left behind, your expression softening into something that Metatron couldn’t quite decipher, he felt a pang of guilt. He knew he was protecting you, that he was doing what he thought was best, but he also knew that you longed for love, for companionship, for someone to see you the way you deserved to be seen.

And so, as you placed the flowers on your desk, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips, Metatron vowed to himself that he would find a way to protect you without stifling your chance at happiness. He would keep you safe from those who would hurt you, but he would also keep his eyes open for someone worthy of your love, someone who could give you the happiness you so desperately deserved.

Until then, he would continue to watch over you, guarding you from the shadows, doing everything in his power to keep you safe—even if it meant bending the rules a little along the way. Because in a world full of pain and disappointment, you were the one thing worth fighting for.

And Metatron would fight for you, for as long as it took, until the day came when you no longer needed him.

But deep down, he knew that day would never come. Not for him. Because somewhere along the way, in the midst of his duty, in the midst of his anger and frustration, Metatron had fallen in love with you. And though he could never act on it, though he could never reveal it, he knew that his heart would belong to you for all eternity.

And that was enough. It had to be.

Metatron’s heart felt heavy as he watched over you that night, his unseen presence lingering in the quiet darkness of your bedroom. He had made sure you were safe, that you had finally drifted into a restless sleep after the emotional turmoil of the day. The soft rise and fall of your breath was the only sound in the room, and Metatron felt a pang of longing as he stood beside your bed, his gaze fixed on your peaceful face.

You were so vulnerable, so fragile in this moment, and yet there was a strength in you that Metatron had come to admire deeply. He had seen the way you faced the world, the way you endured the pain and loneliness that seemed to follow you like a shadow. And though you didn’t know it, he had been with you every step of the way, silently guarding you, protecting you from the worst of what the world could throw at you.

But tonight, as he watched you sleep, Metatron felt a deep sense of frustration and helplessness. He had done everything he could to keep you safe, to shield you from the people who didn’t deserve you, but it wasn’t enough. You were still lonely, still longing for someone to see you, to truly see you, in the way that Metatron did.

And so, with a heavy heart, he made the decision to return to Heaven, determined to speak with God Himself. If there was anyone who could help, it was Him. Metatron wasn’t one to beg, but for you, he was willing to do whatever it took.

As he ascended to Heaven, the familiar, brilliant light of the celestial realm surrounded him, and his usual sharp wit and sarcasm returned as he passed by his angelic brothers and sisters. He could feel their curious gazes on him, their whispers of speculation about what could have driven the Voice of God to such a state. But Metatron paid them no mind. He had one purpose, and he wouldn’t be deterred.

Finally, he stood before the throne of God, the presence of the Almighty filling the space with a power and serenity that would have brought any other being to their knees. But Metatron, as always, stood tall, his hazel eyes flashing with a mix of determination and frustration as he addressed the one being who could change your fate.

“Father,” Metatron began, his voice steady but laced with an underlying edge, “I need to speak with you about her.”

There was a pause, a silence that stretched on for what felt like an eternity, but Metatron waited, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew that God was aware of you—how could He not be? But it was one thing to watch over you as Metatron had been doing, and another entirely to intervene in your life in the way Metatron was about to request.

When God finally spoke, it was not with words, but with a presence that filled Metatron’s mind, a sense of knowing that transcended any human form of communication. And in that moment, Metatron knew that God understood exactly what he was asking for.

“You know I cannot grant this request, Metatron,” came the silent, omnipotent reply, gentle yet firm.

Metatron’s jaw clenched, his frustration bubbling up as he struggled to keep his tone respectful. “Why not?” he demanded, his voice thick with emotion. “She deserves more than this—more than the loneliness and pain she’s endured. I’m not asking for much. Just… just let me find someone for her. Someone who will see her for the incredible person she is, who will value her and love her the way she deserves.”

“Humans have free will, Metatron. They choose their own paths, their own loves. No angel, not even you, can interfere with that. It is not our place.”

Metatron’s fists tightened at his sides, his frustration mounting. “But she wants to be seen,” he insisted, his voice growing more desperate. “She’s spent her whole life being overlooked, taken for granted, treated like she’s invisible. Can’t you see that she needs someone? Someone who will finally see her the way I do?”

Another silence, longer this time, as if God were considering Metatron’s words. But when He spoke again, the answer was still the same, unyielding and absolute.

“It is not our place, Metatron. She must find her own way, make her own choices. You cannot choose for her, nor can I.”

Metatron felt a wave of helplessness crash over him, a rare and unwelcome emotion for someone of his stature. He had always prided himself on his ability to solve problems, to find solutions, even in the most difficult situations. But now, standing before the Almighty Himself, he realized that there was nothing he could do. He was powerless, bound by the very laws that had created him.

But he couldn’t let it go. Not this time. Not when it came to you.

“She wants to be seen,” Metatron repeated, his voice low and filled with a pain he hadn’t meant to reveal. “And so do I. I want her to see me, to know that I’ve been there all along, watching over her, caring for her in ways no one else ever could. I want her to know that she’s not alone, that she’s never been alone.”

God’s silence was deafening, the weight of Metatron’s confession hanging heavy in the air. For a moment, Metatron feared that he had gone too far, that he had revealed too much of his heart, too much of the forbidden love he had for you.

But then, something changed. The presence of God seemed to shift, to soften, and Metatron felt a warmth in his chest, a deep understanding that transcended words.

“You both want to be seen,” God finally said, His voice gentle, filled with a compassion that Metatron had never experienced before. “But that is not something that can be granted by divine intervention. It must come from within, from the choices you both make. You must let her find her own way, and you must accept that you cannot interfere.”

Metatron’s heart ached with the truth of those words, a truth he didn’t want to accept. But he knew, deep down, that God was right. You had your own path to walk, your own choices to make, and no matter how much he wanted to protect you, to guide you, he couldn’t force your hand. You had to find your own way, and he had to trust that you would.

But it didn’t make the pain any less real.

Metatron bowed his head, his shoulders slumping with the weight of his unspoken love, his unfulfilled desires. He had always prided himself on his duty, on his ability to carry out God’s will without question. But now, faced with the one thing he couldn’t have, the one thing he wanted more than anything else, he felt the sharp sting of failure.

“I understand,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’ll protect her, as I always have. But I’ll… I’ll step back, and let her find her own way.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Metatron felt a gentle pressure on his shoulder, a warmth that soothed the ache in his chest, if only a little.

“You have done well, Metatron,” God said, His voice filled with a kindness that Metatron hadn’t expected. “Your love for her is pure, but you must let her go. Trust that she will find her way, and know that you have done everything you can to protect her.”

Metatron nodded, though the motion felt hollow, empty. He knew what he had to do, but it didn’t make it any easier.

With a heavy heart, Metatron turned away from the throne, his gaze fixed on the floor as he made his way out of the celestial chamber. The other angels watched him as he passed, their expressions a mix of sympathy and curiosity, but Metatron ignored them. He didn’t want their pity, their understanding. He wanted you.

But he knew he couldn’t have you. Not in the way he wanted.

And so, as he descended back to Earth, back to the place where you slept, Metatron steeled himself for the task ahead. He would continue to watch over you, to protect you from the shadows, but he would no longer interfere in your life. He would let you find your own way, make your own choices, even if it meant watching you fall in love with someone else.

Because in the end, all he wanted was for you to be happy, to be seen and loved the way you deserved. Even if it wasn’t by him.

But deep down, Metatron knew that a part of him would always long for the impossible—to be seen by you, to have you look at him the way he looked at you, with a love that transcended all boundaries, all rules.

But that was a dream that would remain forever out of reach.

And so, with a heart heavy with unspoken love and unfulfilled desires, Metatron returned to your side, watching over you as you slept, knowing that he would never be more than a guardian, a protector, someone who loved you from a distance, unseen and unheard.

But it was enough. It had to be.

Because he had made a promise—to protect you, to love you, even if it meant sacrificing his own happiness.

And Metatron never broke a promise.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡𝔼𝕞𝕠𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕝 𝕀𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕔𝕪 𝕨/ 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕪 𝕂𝕚𝕕𝕤♡

...because there's 1001 ways outside of physical touch to be loved on by your darling bias/wrecker ♡

When you bring up something you’re passionate about and the other person doesn’t say much it can feel like you aren’t being listened to. With Lee Know you don’t have to worry about that. He might be quiet but he’s hanging on every word you say, memorizing the things that make your beautiful face light up. It’s important to him that you believe the things you say actually matter. That what has meaning to you will always by default have meaning to him too.

Chan is your safe space. Wherever you are you’ll always feel like you’re at home as long as he’s by your side. The whole world could be crumbling around you and you wouldn’t be afraid because you know he’ll protect you. There’s nothing you could ever do to deem yourself unworthy of his love. You could make what you think is the biggest mistake of your life and that wouldn’t change a thing. You are forever the same wonderful human he fell for. 

There’s nothing wrong with crying. If it’s because depression’s kicking your ass today or because you saw a particularly cute cat video, Felix won’t make you feel weird about it. Honestly, he might end up crying right along with you. There’s nothing you can’t open up to him about. He wouldn’t dare tell you that you’re being too sensitive or that you need to suck it up. Shed as many tears as you have to and he’ll be right there to dry them. 

Seungmin has got his own unique way of showing affection. A way that sometimes makes you want to bop him in the back of the head for being such a menace. As much fun as it is annoying you, he goes out of his way to make sure you’re taken care of. You’ll never want for anything and if you do he makes sure that you have it. Ice cream craving at 2am? He’ll drive to the gas station to get it for you, even if he whines about it a little bit. 

Any random idea you have I.N will be on board with. Matching Halloween costumes? Let’s do it. Dancing on the kitchen table to that one song you love that you only listen to when no one’s around? He’s already up there extending his hand to pull you up with him. There’s nothing too “weird” or “random” for him. All of the things about you that you feel are strange are the exact reason why he can’t imagine a life without you. They’re what makes you you. 

Hyunjin is here for the deep early morning/late night conversations about things you might be too afraid to open up about. Of course, he loves to see you smiling and happy but he also knows that life’s not that way all of the time. There’s bound to be days, even weeks maybe, where the darkness creeps in and it’s a bit too much for you to bare. It’s much easier to cope with knowing that you won’t have to bare it in secret. He’s right there with you. 

Speaking of having tough conversations, Han is never afraid to hear you out if he hurts you. Naturally, it’ll upset him that he hurt you to begin with. He won’t get defensive though or ignore the pain you’re experiencing. Accidental or not, he’s gonna spend as much time as it takes to hear you out so that it doesn’t happen again. Open communication is everything between the two of you. He doesn’t see how he can say that he truly loves you without it. 

Changbin is very particular when it comes to you. He treats you like an absolute princess and anyone who comes around you better do the same or there will be hell to pay. It’s not that he doesn’t think you’re capable of taking care of yourself. You’re not some fragile thing to him but you do deserve to be treated delicately. He showers you with every drop of softness he has in him because he treasures you so dearly and he’d wage war if anyone put a scratch on you.