#i had to cut some parts down because i get sidelined so hard

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part 21

Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: angstttttty

A/N: 🤗🤗😮‍💨😇

The late morning sun cast long shadows on the sidewalk as you and Natasha wandered through the shopping district. The crisp autumn air smelled faintly of roasted nuts and coffee from nearby stalls, and you paused in front of a shop window, gesturing to a soft green dress displayed on a mannequin.

“That is so you,” you said with a laugh, glancing at Natasha.

She barely looked, her eyes skimming the display with vague disinterest. “Yeah, maybe,” she muttered, her tone distant.

Her lack of enthusiasm sent a ripple of unease through you, but you brushed it off, continuing down the street with her by your side. Yet, the silence between you began to gnaw at your nerves.

You bit your lip, hesitating before finally speaking. “Um, Nat” you started carefully, “can I talk to you about something?”

Natasha sighed lightly but nodded, her expression neutral. “Sure. What’s up?”

You hesitated, glancing at her out of the corner of your eye. “It’s about Bucky.”

That got her attention. Her brow quirked slightly, though her lips remained pressed in a thin line. “What about him?”

You sighed, your hands fidgeting with the strap of your bag. “He came home late the other night. Which, I mean, it’s fine—he’s allowed to have his space, obviously—but he didn’t tell me where he was. He said he was out for drinks with Sam, but I had lunch with Sam today, and he said he hasn’t seen Bucky since Sunday. I don’t know, Nat. Am I being ridiculous? Does that sound weird to you?”

Natasha stopped walking abruptly, turning to face you with a sharpness that took you off guard. “I don’t want to hear about this,” she said, her voice flat and unyielding.

You blinked, her sudden reaction throwing you completely. “What?”

Her jaw tightened as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re overthinking it. As always. You’re being dramatic about something that’s probably nothing.”

The words stung. Your chest tightened as you stared at her, confusion and hurt bubbling to the surface. “Wow, okay,” you said quietly, your voice wavering. “Where is this coming from?”

Natasha looked away, her gaze flicking to the street, her lips pressing into a hard line. “I just… I think I need some space,” she said finally, her voice tight.

The weight of her words hit you like a freight train. “From me?” you asked, barely able to push the words past the lump in your throat.

“Yes,” she said bluntly, her gaze avoiding yours. “From you.”

You took a step back, the world around you blurring slightly as the hurt settled deep in your chest. “Nat, I don’t understand. Why? Why are you saying this?”

Natasha exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “Because I can’t do this anymore,” she snapped, her voice rising slightly. “I can’t understand why he’d fall in love with you and not me! You’re not some amazing ethereal person, where you get two amazing guys falling in love with you! ”

Her words hit like a slap, cutting deeper than you thought possible. “Nat,” you whispered, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s… fucking hurtful. Do you even hear yourself right now?”

“You asked,” she shot back, her tone defensive and raw. “Do you know how hard it is to stand on the sidelines for years, watching everyone else’s perfect little stories play out? Watching you and Bucky? Watching Steve?”

Her voice cracked slightly on his name, and your breath hitched. “Steve?”

Her laugh was humorless and sharp, her gaze finally snapping back to yours. “Yes, Steve. The guy who’s been in love with you forever. The guy who’s been pretending everything’s fine while you and Bucky play house.”

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest. “I know,” you admitted quietly. “I know, Nat. And I’ve been trying so hard to handle it without making everything worse for him. What do you want me to do?”

Natasha threw her hands up in frustration. “I don’t know!” she said, her voice cracking. “But you and Bucky can’t just act like this doesn’t affect anyone else. You’re so wrapped up in each other, you don’t see what it’s doing to him—or to me.”

You took a shaky breath, anger beginning to simmer beneath the surface. “You wanted this!” you said, your voice rising. “You’ve been pushing me to admit my feelings for him for years. And now that I finally have, I’m not allowed to be happy? To talk to you about him?”

“You don’t get it,” she snapped, her hands trembling slightly at her sides. “You don’t get how hard it is to watch this unfold. I’m so in love with Steve, okay? And I’ve been in love with him for years, he’s my Bucky! And now I have to sit there and watch him pine over you, knowing I’m just… invisible.”

The raw honesty of her words left you momentarily stunned. “Natasha,” you said softly, your anger draining as guilt and heartbreak filled its place. “I didn’t know it was this bad. I’m so—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “Don’t apologize. It won’t change anything.”

You reached out instinctively, but she took a step back. “Nat, please. You’re my best friend.”

“And I’ll always care about you,” she said, her voice soft but distant. “But I need time. I need to figure out how to deal with this without being around you and Bucky all the time.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your vision blurring slightly. “Okay,” you said finally, your voice breaking. “If that’s what you need.”

Natasha’s face twisted with something you couldn’t quite name—regret, maybe—but she didn’t say another word. She just nodded, turned on her heel, and walked away, leaving you standing alone on the crowded sidewalk as the world continued to move around you.

You stood there for a long time, the sounds of the city fading into the background, as the weight of her absence pressed heavily on your chest.

The chill of the evening air nipped at your cheeks as you trudged home, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. Natasha’s words still echoed in your ears, sharp and biting, leaving an ache in your chest that felt unbearable. As you turned a corner, your eyes landed on a familiar figure walking toward you, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets.

Steve.

He noticed you immediately, his brows furrowing as he quickened his pace. “Woah, hey,” he said, his voice laced with concern. “Are you okay?”

You stopped in your tracks, blinking back the tears threatening to spill. “No, I’m not,” you said bluntly, your voice trembling.

Steve’s frown deepened, his blue eyes searching your face for answers. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, your gaze darting away. “Why weren’t you at the farmer’s market today?” you asked, your tone sharper than you intended.

Steve sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “I just… I needed some space.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, and you shook your head, the absurdity of it all crashing down on you.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, his confusion evident.

You looked at him, your eyes brimming with unshed tears. “It’s not funny. It’s just… apparently everyone needs space.” Your voice cracked as you continued. “I thought I was finally happy, Steve. I have Bucky, and for once, things felt right. But now I’m losing Nat, I’m losing Sam, and now you. Nothing feels right anymore!”

Steve’s jaw clenched, his expression pained.

“Are you avoiding me because of me and Bucky?” you pressed, your voice trembling.

He hesitated, his silence speaking volumes before he finally nodded. “Yeah.”

Your chest tightened, and you took a shaky breath. “How much space do you need?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly, his gaze dropping to the ground.

“Of course, you don’t,” you said bitterly, the frustration bubbling over. “I thought you said you were okay with me and Bucky!”

“Well, I lied, okay?” Steve’s voice rose, uncharacteristically sharp. His hands clenched at his sides as he looked at you, his eyes blazing with frustration and something deeper. “How can I be okay when you shouldn’t be with him? I don’t care what Sam or the universe says—you should be with me!”

His words hit you like a freight train, leaving you stunned and speechless. The world around you seemed to tilt, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

“Steve…” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

But he wasn’t finished. “Do you know what it’s like? Watching you with him? Knowing that he’s the one who gets to make you happy? I’ve loved you for so long, and I tried—God, I tried—to bury it, to be the friend you needed. But I can’t do it anymore!”

Your heart felt like it was being ripped apart, the weight of his confession crashing down on you. And yet, before you could fully process his words, your own emotions spilled out like a flood.

“This is such a shit show,” you blurted, your voice breaking. “Natasha is in love with you, Steve!”

Steve’s eyes widened, his face paling. “What?”

“She’s in love with you!” you cried, your emotions finally boiling over. “And she’s been in love with you for years, and now she hates me because of all this! Because of you, because of Bucky, because of this mess that I never asked for!”

Steve took a step closer, his voice soft but firm. “Please don't cry..Why are you crying?”

“Because I never asked you to love me!” you shouted, tears streaming down your face now. “I never asked for any of this! And now it’s all falling on me—Natasha, you, Bucky, everyone. I hate this, Steve. I hate this!”

Steve reached out, his hand brushing your arm, but you pushed him away, the hurt and anger swirling in your chest like a storm. “I can’t do this,” you said, your voice cracking as you turned and walked away, your tears blurring the path ahead of you.

“Wait!” Steve called after you, his voice desperate, but you didn’t stop.

You kept walking, your sobs echoing in the quiet streets, the weight of it all pressing down on you. The ache in your chest was unbearable, but you didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

The door slammed behind you with a force that rattled the frame, the sound reverberating through the apartment. Bucky, who was setting the table with dinner, froze mid-motion, his brow furrowing as he turned toward you.

“Whoa, hey,” he said, his voice calm but laced with concern. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

You laughed bitterly, the sound raw and harsh even to your own ears. Tears streamed down your face, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop them. Your chest heaved with the weight of your emotions, the evening’s events crashing down on you all at once.

Bucky crossed the room in an instant, his hands reaching out to you. “Hey, hey, come here. What happened?” His voice was soft now, almost pleading as he tried to pull you into his arms.

But you stepped back, holding up a trembling hand to stop him. “Don’t,” you said, your voice cracking.

The hurt on his face was immediate and gut-wrenching. His hands dropped to his sides, his blue eyes clouding with worry. “Baby, talk to me. What’s going on?”

You wiped at your face furiously, your breath hitching as you tried to form the words. “I know you didn’t have drinks with Sam the other night, Bucky.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, his lips parting as if to respond, but you cut him off.

“Why are you lying to me?” you demanded, your voice rising. “You said you’d never lie to me! Where were you?”

Bucky’s expression darkened, his shoulders tensing as he ran a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t lying,” he said carefully, his tone low. “It’s just—complicated.”

You let out another humorless laugh, the bitterness sharp in your throat. “Complicated? That’s your answer? God, Bucky, we’ve only just started, and you’re already hiding things from me. What am I supposed to think?”

His jaw tightened, and he took a step closer, his eyes pleading. “Sweetheart, listen to me. There’s nothing going on. I swear to you, there’s no one else. There’s nothing else.”

“Then where were you?” you demanded again, your voice trembling with both anger and hurt. “You know how hard this is for me. I trust you, Bucky, I do. But you said you’d never lie to me. So why—why did you?”

Bucky hesitated, his hands flexing at his sides. “It’s not what you think. It’s…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment. Then he looked back up, his voice firm. “An ex showed up. Sarah.”

Your stomach dropped. “Sarah?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, his tone grim. “She showed up at the bar that night, I was getting us take out. I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to upset you. It was nothing, I swear. She wanted to talk, and I told her there was nothing to say. I left, doll. That’s it.”

The storm of emotions swirling in your chest only intensified. “You didn’t think I deserved to know? You didn’t think it would be worse to find out like this?”

“I didn’t want you to think…” He stopped, his voice faltering. “I didn’t want you to doubt us.”

“Doubt us?” you repeated, your voice breaking. “Hiding it from me makes me doubt us more, Bucky! How am I supposed to feel? You’re the one person I thought I could trust completely, and now…”

Tears blurred your vision again, and you shook your head, your arms wrapping around yourself. “Maybe this is too good to be true,” you whispered.

His eyes widened in panic, and he stepped forward, finally closing the distance between you. This time, you didn’t move away, too drained to resist.

“No,” he said firmly, his hands gently grasping your arms. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think that.” His voice softened, turning desperate. “There’s nothing and no one that could make me want anything but you. You’re it for me, sweetheart. You always have been.”

Your lip trembled as you searched his face, the sincerity in his eyes undeniable. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “Because I’m an idiot. Because it was nothing to me, and I didn’t want to risk hurting you. But I was wrong. I see that now. I should’ve told you.”

The raw emotion in his voice broke something inside you, and you let out a shaky breath. “I’m scared, Bucky,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared that one day, you’ll realize this was a mistake.”

His grip on you tightened, his forehead pressing against yours. “Never,” he murmured. “This is no mistake. You and me? This is the realest thing I’ve ever had. I’m sorry for screwing up, but please, don’t doubt that I’m all in.”

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, your breaths mingling as the weight of the moment settled between you. Then, slowly, you leaned into him, letting him wrap his arms around you completely.

“I love you,” you whispered against his chest, the words raw and vulnerable.

“I love you more,” he replied, his voice steady and sure.

He kissed the top of your head, holding you close as the tension began to melt away. And though the ache in your chest hadn’t disappeared completely, his warmth and the conviction in his voice began to soothe it.

“Let’s go eat,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to look at you.

You nodded, your lips quirking into a small smile. “Okay.”

The room was quiet except for the clinking of your fork against the plate. You were trying to eat, but everything in you felt like it was unraveling. Bucky sat across from you, his brow furrowed, watching you with worry as you pushed your food around.

Finally, you sighed, setting the fork down. “So I was with Natasha today.”

Bucky’s hand froze mid-reach for his glass of water. “Yeah?” he asked cautiously.

You nodded, feeling the lump in your throat grow tighter. “She… she basically told me she needed space. That she doesn’t understand why Steve fell for me and not her. She was so angry, Buck.”

His jaw tightened, and he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “What?” he said, his voice low.

“And then,” you continued, tears welling in your eyes again, “I ran into Steve on the way home, and he said he needs space, too. He said…” Your voice cracked. “He said I shouldn’t be with you. That I should be with him.”

Bucky froze, his blue eyes darkening as his grip on the glass tightened. “He said that?”

You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek. “I never asked for any of this, Buck. I never asked for him to love me, or for Nat to feel this way. I just—” Your voice broke entirely, and you buried your face in your hands.

Bucky was out of his chair in an instant, rounding the table and kneeling in front of you. Gently, he pulled your hands away from your face and cupped your cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. “Sweetheart, those aren’t tears. That’s just too much salt in the food,” he teased softly, his voice thick with affection.

A choked laugh escaped you, and you looked down at your plate. “Buck, that’s my tears. I’m literally crying into my dinner.”

He gave you a small, crooked smile. “I know,” he said gently. “That’s why I’m here, doll. To make sure you don’t cry alone.”

You sniffled, leaning into his touch, and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling back slightly. “I’ve been planning something,” he said, his voice hesitant but hopeful.

You blinked at him, confused. “Planning something?”

“Yeah,” he said, his hands still cradling your face. “The night I ran into Sarah, I wasn't just late because I was waiting for take out, I was on my way back from a meeting.”

“A meeting?” you repeated, your brow furrowing.

Bucky nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Do you remember where we used to go almost every summer as kids with my ma?”

Your heart gave a tiny flutter. “The cabin?” you asked softly.

“Yeah,” he said, his grin growing. I found out who my family sold it to, they use it for a weekend. I thought… I thought maybe we could go. Just us.”

The flood of emotions was too much. Your face fell into your hands again, and sobs wracked your body.

“Whoa, whoa!” Bucky said quickly, his hands moving to your shoulders. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Did I—was that too much?”

You shook your head, peeking up at him through your tears. “No, Bucky. Of course, I want to go. I want to go so badly.”

His expression softened, and he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. “Then what’s with the tears, baby? You’re breaking my heart over here.”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice muffled against his chest. “Everything is just… too much right now. But this? This is good. I need this.”

He chuckled softly, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “Well, I hope you’re not mad, but I already told Tony we’re taking next weekend off. It’s all set up.”

You pulled back slightly, staring at him in disbelief. “You did?”

He grinned, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Yep. It’s a whole shebang. We leave Friday morning.”

A warmth spread through your chest, and for the first time all day, you felt a sense of relief. You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“I try,” he teased, winking at you.

As you both settled back into your chairs, you pulled out your phone. “I need to tell Natasha… oh, right.” Your heart sank as you remembered her earlier words. Instead, you opened a message to Wanda.

You: Hey. I just wanted to tell you what happened today. I saw Nat, and… it didn’t go well.

Wanda: I heard. I’m so sorry, sweetie. She’s not in the right here, and you know it.

You: I just… I don’t know what to do.

Wanda: Let her have her space. She’ll come around. I’ll talk to her, okay?

You: Thanks, Wan.... Bucky's taking me away for the weekend :)

Wanda: Anytime <3 omg!! So sweet, have the best time babe, you deserve it xo

Bucky reached over and squeezed your hand, pulling your attention back to him. “You good?”

You smiled weakly. “Im good.”

He nodded, his expression softening. “Good. Now finish your food before I have to start feeding you myself.”

You laughed, the tension in your chest easing just a little as the two of you settled into the comfort of each other’s presence.

[mikuchan]

What about love confessions? Between our ladies - Minthara and Alfira - of course 😉 How; When; Who is the first one? What's the response? 😇💙💜

okay okay okay

This isn't exactly a love confession, but here's what I've got

733 words below the cut!

The bard, it seems to Minthara, is full of errant love. 

It’s I love you as Astarion stitches fallen jingle-bells back onto her blouse, as Karlach slings an arm around her, as Wyll presents her with a tin of colored pencils purchased from the Last Light’s quartermaster. I love you to the dog and the owlbear, to the urchin children as they giggle and scoff in return. She says it laughingly, applaudingly, dreamily. 

(She does not say it, Minthara notes, to the other tiefling girl – the one who sits by the hearth and moons after the bard. She does say it to Gale later, when they’re on the road: “Gods, I love her. I really do,” and Minthara rolls her eyes.)

It’s saccharine. It’s infuriating. It’s downright dangerous. The world above is different than the one Minthara grew up in, it’s true – but it’s also not so unsimilar. Not in the ways that matter. Open affection in times of war is never a good idea. But it’s not Minthara’s job to remedy this, so she simply ignores these outbursts and carries on. If the bard wants to act the fool, so be it.

Then they fight together, and camp together. She spends hours on the shadow-mucked road with Alfira chattering besides her. They sleep together – once, twice, thrice.

 Somewhere along that line, Minthara realizes she cares about the bard. She worries about Alfira’s comfort, and more than that, about her safety. 

At the same time, Alfira starts saying it to her, too.

“Ugh, Minthara, I love you,” sighed as the drow brings her a glass of water or wine.

“My hero! I love you!” exclaimed after Minthara seizes her by the arm, saving her from a faceful of mud. 

“I love you, you know,” and this is the worst one yet, delivered with a loving gaze and a gentle hand placed over Minthara’s own,  “and the others do too. You don’t need to be so stoic all the time.” 

As if Alfira gets to say that. As if anyone in this damn camp gets to tell Minthara Baenre what to do. Besides, it’s not just stoicism, it’s pragmatism. She knows better than any the dangers of open love. She’s doing her damndest to keep Alfira alive and in one piece, and the least the girl can do is not undermine her with these constant displays of silliness. 

“It would do you good, Alfira,” she finally says, “to be a little more stoic.”

“Probably.” Alfira’s smile is sad and lopsided, and Minthara turns away.  

In the depths of night, when she’s half-lulled in a trance state and Alfira is curled up on the bedroll beside her, she is terrified. She watches the tiefling’s chest as it rises and falls, and she feels herself standing upon a knife’s edge of fear and affection. 

Alfira’s not a calm sleeper. She moves and mutters, and expressions flicker across her face, all little frowns and winces. Her tail curls, or lashes in agitation. It does so now, violently enough to bump Minthara. She catches it with one hand to run her thumb across the smooth skin there, the funny blunt-barbed end. It helps for a moment. Alfira calms – then she jerks with a gasp, eyes flying open. Minthara moves her hand to the woman’s chest, rubbing small circles as Alfira orients herself. 

She doesn’t ask what the nightmare was about. Not a night goes by without one of them going through similar: Shadowheart whimpering and twitching, a shout from Gale, clenched-teeth sobs from…well, any of them. Nobody mentions any of it in the morning. Minthara does not sleep (and she certainly doesn’t cry aloud like a child), but her own reveries are not always peaceful either. She rolls closer to Alfira, wrapping her free arm around her, and the bard curls into her chest. Her breath is warm against Minthara’s skin.

“Oh, Minthara, I’m glad you’re here. I love you,” Alfira murmurs. 

She can’t quite bring the word to leave her own lips. It tastes like poison on her tongue. It feels like a blade sliced cleanly through Alfira’s ribs, her own grip firm on the handle. It sounds like birdsong, like bard song, and also like downfall.

But she can’t bring herself to turn away, either. Not entirely. 

“...as I do you,” Minthara finally says, and she feels Alfira smile against her. 

[slater-baby]

No One Like Him

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!Reader

Hear me out

Soap has a praise kink, but not in a submissive sense.

Soap has always been the energetic, eager type. Since the minute he joined the football team at five years old, he lived for every goal he made, when his team and parents screamed and yelled for him on the sideline. He absolutely idolized his older brothers, joining the same sports and following in their footsteps, always on their heels like:

“Did ‘ya see that? See it? It was cool, right?”

Some might call him a push over, but he genuinely just wants to show off. Wants everyone to see that Johnny’s a part of the crowd, that he’s cool.

He struts around base like a prize stallion - purely because he thinks he is one. And you roll your eyes and laugh most of the time. If only you knew that it was your attention he was most desperate for. Your attention that he needed the most.

When you come around the sports yard on base, he always pushes himself twice as hard, damn near running the other men down just to score a goal.

“‘Ya see that, Bonnie? See it? Swear I did it just for you. That’s gotta count for something, right?”

In the gym, he pushes himself past his PR every time you so much as spare him a glance. He pulls off his shirt, holds himself bigger, broader - like some sort of bastardized mating dance.

“Hit a new PR today, tryna bulk up my biceps, yeah? Think they look good, Bonnie, do ya? Might need to see ‘em up close before you can tell the difference.”

And at the end of the day, if you agree to let him take you for a night, you’ll never hear the end of it.

NSFW below cut.

Especially now that he knows he can get you just as down bad as he’s been the past few months...All it took was his tongue on your clit and his fingers in your soaking cunt for you to finally acquiesce: Johnny MacTavish really was all that.

He’d just been waiting for you to admit it.

“Go-od, Johnny, good—you’re so fucking good,” you sob, all but burying your face in the covers while he mounts you like some insatiable stud.

“Yeah? You like my cock, Bonnie?” He grunts, grabbing hurried handfuls of your ass in a move that’s so wolfish and immature you have half a mind to think he’ll spill inside of you right then and there, “Tell me how much you like it—fuck, say it, Bonnie.”

“You’re so big, John—so big. Fuckin’ me so good,” you mewl when his hips start to swing faster. Mindlessly, determinedly, “God, how do you even—Fuck, Soap, right there. Right there. Right there—oh god—“

“Bonnie—“ he growls, voice wobbling with something absolutely unhinged, “M’just that good. Wanted to be good for you—needed to be good for you…for this fucking cunt.”

He thrusts so hard both your cervix and ass will be bruised by the end of it. He’s falling apart at the seams, gripping your body like a vice, fucking into you so stupidly he’s nearly drooling just at the feeling of it. Any attempt to get out from under him now would be futile. No, he’s got you in his grips now. He’ll keep you screaming his praises until the words make him spill, until you understand well and good that no one could ever match him. No one.

“Say it. Say it. God, Bonnie, say it—“ he chants, all but pounding you into the mattress.

“So good for me, Johnny—” You scream, tearing the sheets apart with your nails, “The best I’ve ever had!! You’re—you’re the best—“

“God—Fuck, don’t stop—don’t stop—don’t fucking stop—“

Needless to say, all it takes is one more slurred word of praise to have him filling you up. And as he watches it drip out of your cunt, evidence of just how well he’s fucked you, you can’t ever remember feeling so tired.

However, if you feel something hard rubbing up against your ass a few minutes later…well, you can’t find it in yourself to whine when he slides back inside of you.

After all, Johnny lived to please. And when he coaxes another pair of orgasms out of your poor, abused pussy, you finally come to understand exactly what he’d been trying to tell you this entire time:

There’s no one else like him on the face of this earth. No one.

[meazalykov]

getting what she wants

lena oberdorf x reader

part four of five

summary: you wonder if she will take this as seriously as you will, since the unfortunate event will turn her life around

warnings: angst, acl injury

the atmosphere in washington, d.c. was buzzing, the crowd already filling up the stadium for the final friendly before the olympics. 

the last tune-up match. the send off. you should’ve been excited, but your mind wasn’t entirely focused on the game ahead.

your family was here, your non-soccer playing friends have called off from their jobs just to celebrate your achievements.

however, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, though you hadn’t put your finger on it yet.

emma had decided to rest you for the first half, opting to try out some new formations and lineups before the olympics. 

you were okay with it, knowing that your performance in new york had already solidified your spot in the starting lineup for the tournament. still, sitting on the bench with your legs jittering from the adrenaline that always hit just before a match wasn’t easy.

you sat between tierna and hal, the latter relatively new to the national team setup. hal’s wide eyes scanned the field, soaking it all in as she sat nervously beside you.

"y/n," she said, her voice soft, like she wasn’t sure if she should even speak to you. 

you turn your head to look at her, with a light smile letting her know that she can speak to you anytime. 

"i know you’re going through a hard time, according to the team. and i feel like you should hear this since we haven’t talked much but i’ve just... i’ve always admired you. as a midfielder, i mean. your control, your playmaking, it’s... i don’t know, you’re so goated."

you turned to her, surprised by the compliment. you hadn’t interacted with hal much since this was only her third call-up to the senior team. she was still finding her spot, but her genuine words made you smile, if only a little.

"thank you, you don’t understand how much that means to me right now" you replied, offering her a nod of acknowledgment. 

"you’ve been doing great too. i can’t wait to play with you more often."

hal gave a nervous smile, then added, "i know there’s been... a lot of drama lately. with carmine and everything. but i want you to know that i’d like to be your friend, no matter what. i don’t care about the rumors that might make you look bad or any of that stuff."

her words took you off guard, and you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you. 

it wasn’t easy to open up to new people, especially after your ex ruined your trust for a temporary period, but hal’s sincerity was a breath of fresh air.

"i’d like that," you said, meaning it. 

"friends sound good."

the game started, and for the first half, you sat watching intently, analyzing the way emma was testing out the new players. 

mexico was tough, just as they had been in the gold cup back in february, but you knew that your team had enough firepower to break them down eventually.

at halftime, it was still 0-0, and you were itching to get on the field. 

emma must’ve sensed it, because in the 63rd minute, she called your name.

"y/n, you’re going in. i want you to play in your normal position, just like last game, prioritize the opportunity. stay in the line– i trust you."

you nodded, already mentally preparing yourself as you stripped off your warm-up gear and jogged to the sideline. 

when the whistle blew, you stepped onto the pitch replacing rose lavelle, ready to make an impact.

within minutes, you found your rhythm, linking up with mallory, lynn, and sophia effortlessly. you could feel the game starting to open up, and you knew it was only a matter of time before the breakthrough came.

and then, in the 78th minute, it did.

lynn made a run down the left wing, drawing two defenders toward her. you saw the space open up in the middle and called for the ball. 

she cut it back to you, and without hesitation, you took a touch, then drilled it into the bottom corner of the net.

the goalkeeper dives too late to save it.

the crowd erupted as you run to the corner to celebrate. you see your family and personal friends and give them a heart with your hands, happy to see them here.

your teammates swarming you. it wasn’t a hat trick like the last game, but it was your fourth goal in two games, and it felt good—really good.

after the final whistle, with a 1-0 victory secured, you headed back to the locker room. 

the energy was high, the team buzzing with excitement, but there was a heavy pit forming in your stomach. 

something didn't feel right before the game, and you couldn’t shake it.

as you sat on the bench, wiping the sweat and grass dirt from your face, lindsey walked over, her expression serious. she motioned for you to follow her, pulling you into one of the private areas of the locker room.

"hi?" you asked, sensing something was wrong.

is she confronting you about the drama? you weren’t sure. lindsey reassured you many times that everyone still loves you, so you hope there were no new problems now.

lindsey hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching yours before she spoke. 

"i didn’t want to tell you before the game, but... lena got injured in germany’s friendly against austria. it’s her knee. popp thinks it’s her acl."

your heart dropped into your stomach, the words hitting you like a freight train. 

"what?" your voice cracked, panic already rising in your chest.

"she’s in the hospital back in germany right now," lindsey continued softly. 

"i’m sorry, y/n."

you didn’t think twice. without another word, you grabbed your phone and hurried outside to find a quieter space. 

it was 11:30 p.m. in dc, which meant it was 5:30 am in germany. 

lena would still be awake, especially if she was in the hospital.

with shaky hands, you dialed her number. the phone rang twice before she picked up, her voice groggy but filled with pain.

"hey," lena murmured. 

"i was hoping you’d call. nice goal by the way, i saw it on tv."

"lena, i just found out," you said, your voice tight as you tried to hold back the wave of emotions crashing over you. 

"your acl? are you okay? i—i should’ve called sooner but i had that game—"

"i’m... i don’t know," lena admitted, her voice breaking slightly. 

"it hurts like hell, and i couldn’t sleep. i was supposed to start my first game with you at bayern after the summer, but now... now i don’t even know when i’ll be back."

your heart ached hearing the defeat in her voice. 

lena was one of the toughest people you knew, but this was breaking her.

"i’m so sorry," you whispered, your throat tight. 

"i’ll be there for you, okay? after the olympics, i’ll help you with your recovery. i’ll make time, i promise."

"you don’t have to do that," lena said quietly, though you could hear the gratitude in her tone. 

"i don’t want to be a burden on you. you have so much going on—" she switches to german. 

"lena," you cut her off, your voice firm. 

"you’re not a burden. you’re a priority. i want to help you. i’ll be there for you, whatever you need. i promise."

there was a long pause on the other end before lena spoke again. 

"thank you," she whispered. "i... i don’t know what i’d do without you right now."

you sat there, the weight of her words sinking in. the truth was, you didn’t know what you’d do without her either. 

shes been in contact with you everyday since that night. unless there were training or games, there wasn’t a single long-period where you weren’t texting about something– or anything.

despite everything—despite the complicated mess you’d been through with your ex, and the uncertainty that had surrounded your relationship with lena—you realized just how deep your feelings for her ran.

you weren’t official with lena. not yet. but the way your heart was breaking for her right now told you everything you needed to know.

after a long pause, lena spoke again, her voice softer now. 

"i’ll still make time for you, even with everything going on."

"no," you said firmly. "i’m going to be there for you, okay? i’ll help you recover. you won’t have to go through this alone."

"thank you," lena whispered again, her voice filled with emotion. 

you sat there, the phone still pressed to your ear, your mind racing. this wasn’t how you’d imagined things would go. 

lena was supposed to start fresh at bayern after the summer, and now... now everything had changed.

when you returned to the locker room, the news had already spread. the atmosphere was a mix of excitement from the win and the heaviness of what had just happened to lena. 

your teammates, especially the ones who knew her well like tierna, gave you sympathetic looks, but no one said much.

as the team prepared to leave for d.c., the weight of everything that had happened in the past few weeks hit you all at once. 

from the messy breakup with sloan to lena’s injury, it felt like everything was spinning out of control. 

and yet, despite it all, one thing became clear to you as you boarded the plane for the olympics: 

you wanted to be with lena. not just as a friend, not just as someone helping her recover, but you wanted to be hers. and her to be yours. 

the thing is– you weren’t sure how it would all work out with lena, but you knew one thing for sure: you were in too deep to turn back now. 

when all of this was over, you and lena could figure it out together. 

the olympics came and went in a blur, the pressure mounting as you advanced through the tournament. 

the uswnt played like machines under emma hayes, and before you knew it, you found yourself in the final against brazil, the stakes higher than ever.

the atmosphere at the olympic final against brazil was electric. you were in the 2020 olympics with the team, but winning bronze doesn’t compare to this.

you stood shoulder to shoulder with lindsey and sam, eyes fixed on the opponents you’ve had faced so many times before. 

brazil was known for their speed and creativeness, but you knew alyssa naeher was more than prepared to keep them at bay. 

today wasn’t just another game — it was the olympic final. and you were more determined than ever to bring home gold. just to prove to yourself that nothing could stop your game, not your cheating ex— nobody.

but as the national anthem played, you couldn’t help but think of lena. 

you hadn’t spoken to her much over the last few days, mostly because she was in the thick of her recovery then traveling to meet up with her national team. 

though, lena was in the audience. you knew that. lena visited her german teammates as they won the bronze medal match against spain. to say that you were happy for them would've been an understatement. 

now the germans were here before the ceremony, ready to watch you put on an outstanding performance for gold.

your heart ached when you thought of her, the injury that had thrown both of your worlds off course. 

she was supposed to be thriving, ready to become a star at bayern, and now she was sidelined for months.

but right now, you had a job to do.

the whistle blew, and the final kicked off.

brazil came out swinging, full of energy, and the first twenty minutes were a back-and-forth battle in the midfield. 

every time adriana or marta touched the ball, your heart skipped a beat, but you knew alyssa was solid in the back. 

the triple espresso were pushing the attack, but brazil’s defense was holding strong.

at around the 30-minute mark, you found yourself in space, sam coffey threading a pass your way. 

your first touch was sharp, pushing the ball ahead of you as you glanced up to see the keeper off her line. the triple espresso was blocked by defenders, so without a second thought, you wound up and took the shot from just outside the box, sending the ball curling toward the top corner.

the sound of the net rippling sent a surge of adrenaline through your veins, and the stadium exploded in celebration. 1-0. 

you threw your arms up, letting the emotion wash over you as your teammates rushed to engulf you in a hug.

something inside of you wanted to cry in joy– but you held it in. there was still work to be done, and brazil wasn’t going to back down easily.

the rest of the first half was intense. 

brazil pressed hard, but the u.s. defense, led by alyssa, naomi, emily, crystal, and tierna, stood strong. 

when brazil did manage to get a shot off, alyssa was there, calm and collected, making crucial saves to maintain the lead.

at halftime, the locker room was a mixture of adrenaline and focus. 

the 1-0 lead felt good, but you knew it wasn’t enough. brazil was dangerous, and if you let up for even a second, they’d capitalize.

emma gathered the team for a quick pep talk, her voice steady but full of fire. you listened, making sure that you put on the best performance of your career in this second half.

as the second half kicked off, you could feel the tension. 

brazil came out with renewed energy, and for the first 15 minutes, they pinned you back, testing alyssa with shots from distance. 

she held firm, pulling off save after save, keeping the clean sheet intact.

you cheered, externally or internally, everytime. 

in the 65th minute, emma made a tactical switch, bringing in fresh legs to maintain the pace. fortunately, you weren’t subbed out. 

the game shifted again, and you found yourself back in the attack. mallory broke down the wing, flying past her defender, and whipped in a cross toward the penalty spot.

you were already there, timing your run perfectly. the ball floated in, and without hesitating, you leapt into the air, connecting with the header. 

it wasn’t the hardest shot you’d ever taken, but it was placed perfectly, tucking into the bottom corner past brazil’s keeper.

2-0.

the stadium erupted, louder this time, the roar deafening as you run around the pitch with your arms up high. your  teammates chased then mobbed you once again. most teammates from the bench even jumping up to hug you in celebration. 

a two-goal lead in the olympic final. you could taste the gold now.

with brazil rattled, the game started to open up. there were more chances on both sides, but your defense was unbreakable. 

alyssa, naomi, and emily were locked in, keeping brazil at bay with every attack they mounted. it felt like nothing could get past them, and you could see the frustration building in the brazilian players.

as the clock ticked down, the final whistle was nearing, but you kept your foot on the gas. 

brazil was desperate, throwing numbers forward, and that left them exposed at the back.

in the 88th minute, you found yourself in possession again, just outside the box. 

sophia made a darting run to pull the defenders away, giving you just enough space to take a shot. you faked to your right, cutting back inside, and then unleashed a low, driven strike toward the far post.

the ball hit the bar, but trinity recovered it and tapped it behind the net. 

3-0. the gold was yours.

the crowd exploded in celebration as you dropped to your knees, overwhelmed with emotion. 

trinity laid on top of you, crying with you. 

your teammates swarmed you, hugging you, lifting you up, the joy infectious. you had done it. olympic champions.

as the final whistle blew, the team celebrated like there was no tomorrow, hugging, crying, laughing. 

you had your gold medal moment, standing on top of the world. 

your hands were on your face as your sobs came out uncontrollably. if you told yourself a month ago that you’d be this happy and relieved, you wouldn’t believe it. 

lindsey and tierna comforted you as you stood up to go to the locker room, getting ready to shower before the ceremony. 

as you had a moment to settle down, your thoughts drifted back to lena.

you hadn’t realized how deep your feelings for her had grown.

the fact that she was there, the fact that she was hundreds of feet away in the stadium, recovering from an injury that could derail her season instead of celebrating bronze with her team, weighed heavily on your heart.

later that night, after all the celebrations, after the medals had been handed out and the photos had been taken, you found a quiet moment to yourself. 

the weight of the gold medal around your neck was a reminder of everything you’d worked for, but the ache in your chest was for something, someone else.

you pulled out your phone, glancing at the time. 

lena was probably asleep by now after partying with her national team, but you couldn’t help it. you needed to talk to her.

you dialed her number, your heart pounding as the phone rang. after a few rings, she picked up, her voice groggy.

"hey," she mumbled. 

"you did it!" she cheered through her tired voice. 

"yeah," you whispered, your throat tight. 

"we won."

there was a long pause on the other end, and you could hear lena shift slightly, probably trying to get comfortable in her bed. 

you know that she is someone who sleeps on her stomach, so the brace might make it hard for her. 

"i’m so proud of you," she said softly.

"i wish you were here with me," you admitted, the words slipping out before you could stop them. 

"this doesn’t feel right without you, even if you do have a different nationality than me." you giggled.

"i wish i was there too," she replied, her voice filled with longing. 

"but... i’ll be here when you get back. we’ll figure everything out then. until then, please enjoy your win."

you smiled, tears stinging your eyes. "i’m coming home to you. as soon as all of this is done."

"i’ll be waiting," lena whispered.

as you hung up after the goodnights, the weight of everything hit you all at once. 

the olympics, the gold, lena’s injury, your breakup with sloan, the confusion about what you and lena really were—it was all so much. 

one thing was clear in your mind as you stared down at the gold medal around your neck: it didn’t matter what obstacles lay ahead now. 

you moved on from whatever was in the past and you were in this with lena now, for the long run.

part five, the final part, here

[sstargirln]

Step daddy Patrick because he would be the broke 30 something year old who married your mom for money 🙏

❞ ᝰ .ᐟ  stepdaddy!patrick!!!!!!!!!!!!

you’d kept to the sidelines at your mom’s wedding, sulking behind a glass of champagne, watching as her new husband worked the room. patrick was all smooth smiles and overplayed charm, slick as the pomade in his hair, making sure everyone saw him as a perfect new addition to your mom’s life. 

but you knew better. you’d seen patrick before he’d found his way to your mother’s side—scraping by on short-term jobs and chance tennis wins, living out of his car. you could imagine exactly how it’d played out. some charity gala that mom’s friend has forced her to go – for her spirits. patrick’s invite came from some college buddy who’d made it big and felt a pang of pity for him, the old friend who hadn’t quite managed to keep up.

she’d worn her best jewelry, a tight dress. bid at the auction. and patrick, like the magpie he is, had seen her cash, her flashy diamonds . . . the promise of everything he lacked. 

it was obvious what he was into her for. and it wasn’t her face. maybe her body. but the dick must’ve been good, because she said yes when he asked, only a few months into dating. 

and now, here he was, sliding effortlessly into his role, his hand on her waist, his eyes occasionally drifting your way. 

it’d been months since you seen him. a whole semester, and was it bad that he got a whole lot hotter – maybe the sleazy confidence was part of it?? oh well, absence makes the heart grow fonder. and your heart wasn’t the only thing fond of patrick. you were soaked, and you couldn’t tell what it was about him that got you all riled up like this. 

maybe the way he loosens his collar, roll up his sleeves. the way his shirt stretches across his broad shoulders when he takes off the suit jacket. or the low, unfatherly grin he gives you when he catches you glaring. the rake of eyes over you from head to toe.

“hey, sweets,” the trill of his voice cuts through the air, smooth and almost mocking as he envelopes you in a hug from behind. you hadn’t even realized you’d lost sight of him in the crowd. “how’s it going? didn’t get a chance to talk to you during the ceremony. well, fuck, obviously,” he murmurs, his voice low in your ear. he’s clutching a glass of whiskey in his hand, the one with his fresh, new wedding band glinting in the light. “when’d you get here?” 

“only jus’ before the — the thing." you wave your hands around aimlessly. "mom flew me straight here from school,” you stammer, shifting in his arms so you’re facing him. fuck, he looks even better up close.

“that right?” he says. he smirks, hand resting casually against your back. “missed all the fun stuff pre-ceremony then.” 

“yeah, guess i did,” you reply, forcing a smile, trying to keep your voice steady, but it comes out too quiet. 

“you look good.” your stomach twists. his voice is too low, too husky to be a general compliment. not the kind of compliment you should be hearing from him. 

“met any of the groomsmen yet?” he continues casually. “gon’ have a hard time keeping them away once you do.” he takes another long sip of whiskey as he unravels his arms from you, and then it's back to the burning graze of his eyes across your body. like he’s undressing you with his gaze. 

"i've missed having you around. 's been too quiet without you."

you’re looking up at him with wide, unsteady, fuck-me eyes that you can’t control, and he’s staring down at you with increasingly dark ones, and it doesn’t take long before he’s pushing you away from the crowd, eyes darting across the hall to make sure no one’s looking too hard as he pushes you into the room behind the bar. we got ready in here, he’d said. you could tell. littered with suit jackets and stray cufflinks. solo cups and balled-up socks. smelled of cigarettes and cologne and beer, a stale smell that reminds you of the frat boy you were sure patrick had once been. 

he doesn’t say anything for a moment, doesn’t do anything. just watches you as you linger by the door. "come here," he says, voice low, and you do, you fucking do, because his eyes are trailing across your body, your face, your lips, and you feel like you’re burning alive.

he reaches out to cup your face in his hands. hooks his fingers under your chin, tilts your face up toward his.

"fuck, i forgot how pretty you are."

he shoves you against the wall, hands gripping your waist, and you’re breathing hard, heart pounding in your ears. he’s kissing you, and it’s slow, deep. his tongue in your mouth — you can taste the whiskey on his breath. tongue brushing against the seam of your mouth, coaxing you to open for him.  you can’t think. can’t move, no way this is happening. this is disgusting! filthy! but you're dripping with arousal and patrick’s lips feel like heaven against your skin as he trails them down your neck. 

he’s grinding against you like a little boy at prom, and you can feel how hard he is."been thinking about this, fuck – this body since i proposed to your mom," he rasps. you nod desperately into his shoulder when he grips your thigh, hiking up your skirt. his fingers slip beneath your soaking panties, rubbing teasingly over your clit. you gasp, hips bucking into his touch.

"that's it, baby," he groans, fingers dipping lower, teasing your entrance. "gon’ make you feel so good." he plunges them inside you within seconds, curling, twisting, fucking you with his fingers hard enough to bring tears to your eyes. 

he kisses down your neck, teeth grazing your skin, and you're panting, whimpering, because it feels so fucking good, and you don't care anymore, don't care that he's literally your stepdad, don't care about anything except the way he's touching you, the way he's making you feel. 

"gon’ make you cum," he promises. "make you cum on my fuckin’ fingers, baby, and then i'm gonna fuck you so hard you forget your own name."

and you believe him, because he's patrick – something about him makes people forget themselves. you’d seen it happen, over and over. with your mom. she’d softened under his touch, let him take up so much space in her life, her home, her bank account. it wasn’t like her. it wasn’t like you either, and yet here you were, humping into his fingers, your own tangled in his hair as he kissed you with fervor. 

"fuck –" you whine, "please – i need it – need you inside me."

he smirks against your lips, fingers still pumping. “you want your new daddy’s big cock? huh, baby girl?” he purrs, and you nod frantically. 

"yes. yes please, daddy," you whimper, "please, i need it, please."

he pulls his fingers out, and you whimper at the loss, but then he's unbuckling his belt, and he's shoving his pants down, and his cock springs free. and it's huge, thick, the tip already slick with precum – you're drooling.  

he bends you over the desk like you’re in a fucking porno, your cheek smushed against the cool wood. he kicks your legs apart, lifts up the skirt of your dress. he's rubbing the head of his cock against your entrance, you're panting — desperate, needy. pretty soon, he’s thrusting in and out of you at a brutal pace, fingers fisting at the satiny fabric of your dress.  "fuck, baby," he grunts, "this pussy's mine now. all mine." he reaches down, grabs your ass, squeezes, and you moan, arching into his touch. he's hitting deep, so fucking deep, and you feel like you're gonna break . . . shatter! 

the desk's creaking, the room's spinning, and you're trying to hold on, trying to stay grounded, but it’s too much. he leans over you, chest pressed against your back, one hand gripping your hip, the other tangled in your hair.  "gon’ fill –  fill you right up, kiddo," he promises, "pump you full. you want that, hm?"you whimper out a yes, unable to say much other than that single syllable, shaky and unsteady. 

he groans, hips snapping faster, harder, and you can feel him getting closer, can feel your own orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly. “fuck, ‘m gonna – fuck!”

"that's it," he pants, "gon’ – fuck, gon’ cum for me, huh, baby girl?” 

and then he's there, and so are you, and you throw your head back with one last lewd screech, praying to god that the music outside’s still loud, the wedding party isn’t listening too hard.  

once he’s finished with you, he leaves you limp on the desk, the air thick with the scent of him—whiskey, sweat, and something unmistakably patrick. you’re still trying to steady your breathing, your legs weak beneath you as you lean against the edge of the desk. 

patrick’s shirt is half-untucked, his sleeves still rolled up as he adjusts his belt with a smirk that’s so casual it almost makes you angry. “nun’ to say, baby?”

you should. you should say something—anything—maybe a protest, a complaint. but your words are stuck somewhere between your chest and your throat. “figured as much,” he murmurs, almost to himself, like he knows exactly what’s running through your head. “gon’ want to fix yourself up before heading back out, sweets. don’t need anyone getting any ideas.” he wraps a coil of your messed up hair around his finger as he talks, patting your head once he’s done. “mom’s probably waiting, huh?”

¡! ❞ © sstargirln 2024

[bri-cheeses]

| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 875 | @thingthatoncewastruee this is dedicated to you because of this old post of mine | Oh also this is a ✨part one✨ |

-

The light from the crackling fireplace spilled out into the common room, casting a warm glow to the dark wood and green furniture that made up the Slytherin common room. Save for two figures sprawled out on the couch and one curled up in an armchair with a book, the room was empty of life, the pop and hiss of logs the only sound present.

Except, of course, the turning of pages coming from Regulus Black, and the soft breaths of Evan Rosier as he lay upon Barty Crouch Jr.

Barty should be doing something. Regulus was reading some book that was undoubtedly full of hopelessly confusing metaphors, and Evan was sleeping. But Barty was simply watching Evan as he rested, observing Evan’s chest rise and fall with each deep breath.

Barty noted the way the fire lit up strands of Evan’s blond hair and danced across one side of his face, playing tricks as it highlighted his friend’s cheekbones. Evan’s mouth was parted slightly, and warm puffs of breath ghosted across Barty’s sternum each time he breathed out. There was something enchanting about it, about the way Evan’s arms wrapped around his torso, his body fitting perfectly against Barty’s own as they lay there, entwined with one another.

Barty should be doing something other than creepily staring at his best friend, but Regulus wasn’t paying attention, and Barty was having a hard time pulling his gaze away from the boy sprawled across him.

He had a hard time looking away even as the door to the common room opened, causing a flood of light to come spilling in.

“Crap,” he heard a girl mutter under her breath as the sound of falling books resonated throughout the room. There was a sigh, then the sound of books being stacked upon each other once more.

Footsteps echoed on the wood floor as the girl moved about the room, coming closer towards the fireplace. Finally, Barty was able to see who the intruder was: Adriata Fawley, a sixth-year Slytherin who Barty was on friendly enough terms with.

A sudden thought struck him as she made her way to the right of the fireplace, where the staircase to the girls’ dorms was. Really, this was a conversation he should probably be sitting up for, but he couldn’t bring himself to disturb Evan.

“Adriata,” he called out quietly, trying hard not to wake Evan.

He stirred but did not wake as Adriata turned around, books still in hand, and said, “What is it?”

Almost immediately after finishing her question, she yawned widely, a hand coming up to cover her mouth. A sense of guilt washed over Barty—after all, it was late, and she probably just wanted to go to bed. But she was the perfect solution to his current dilemma, and Barty had already stopped her on her way up, so all he could do was finish his request.

“You know the Yule Ball, right?”

She nodded slowly, and Barty continued even as Regulus finally looked up from his book. He tried not to let his friend’s curious gaze get to him as he explained, “Well, I still need someone to go with, and I thought it’d be fun to go with you, if you wanted.”

The corners of Adriata’s mouth turned down, and Barty rushed to continue.

“Just as friends,” he added, desperately hoping she wouldn’t get the wrong impression and get scared off.

“Well,” Adriata said slowly, “I’d love to, but—” her eyes flicked over Evan’s sleeping form— “is Evan not available for some reason?”

Barty furrowed his brow. What was that supposed to mean? Did Adriata think that Evan was somehow going to interfere with the ball? Unless…

A low sinking feeling started to form in Barty’s gut. Had Evan asked Adriata to go to the Yule Ball with him? Was Evan going to go to the ball with Adriata?

Barty couldn’t stop himself from imaging Evan in a perfectly-cut suit with Adriata on his arm. Them laughing together. Getting food together. Dancing together. All while Barty watched from the sidelines.

He didn’t know why he cared this much. He was friendly with Adriata, sure, but that didn’t mean he had a crush on her or anything. But the thought of her going to the ball with Evan caused a sour taste to fill his mouth nonetheless.

Barty glanced back down at Evan’s sleeping face, and his voice tightened into a bitter tone as he responded, “No, why? Did he ask you to—to go with him, or something?”

“Huh? No,” Adriata shook her head, looking beyond confused. “No, nothing like that. I had just assumed that, well… you two would be going together, that’s all. Considering the fact that you’re, uh, you know. Dating.”

“What?” Barty squawked. Evan shifted slightly at the loud noise, and Barty immediately berated himself. He was only vaguely aware of a snort of laughter from Regulus’s direction as his mind scrambled to untangle Adriata’s words.

Dating? Him and Evan?

His gaze roved over Evan’s form once more, the way Evan’s head was tucked against Barty’s chest and their legs were twined together.

Dating, Barty thought incredulously as Evan nestled further into Barty’s torso, where had she even gotten that idea?

-

(Part two)

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Possession: a Jey Uso x Rhea Ripley x Jimmy Uso fanfic.

Chapter One: Intro

The Pensacola air was thick with humidity as Rhea stood at the front door of the home she shared with Jey, her fingers hovering over the knob. It was supposed to be a sanctuary, a place of comfort after grueling days on the road. But today, it felt suffocating as this was their first day back from the hospital and sadly Rhea’s last day before she had to fly to Houston for Smackdown.

She swallowed hard, her throat tight, and pushed open the door. Jey had insisted on walking inside on his own, despite the sling securing his injured shoulder. His stubbornness was equal parts admirable and frustrating, and it gnawed at her that she was the reason for his pain.

“Let me help,” she offered, her voice soft, almost too quiet to be heard over the door closing behind them.

Jey shook his head, giving her a small, forced smile as he navigated toward the living room. The smile didn’t reach his eyes, and she hated herself for noticing.

“Just get me some ice, babe. I’ll be fine.” His voice was calm, but she caught the wince as he lowered himself onto the couch. He was trying to be strong for her, like always. It only made the guilt burn deeper.

Rhea set down his bag, the weight of the moment pressing down on her. She moved through the house mechanically, fetching ice packs, arranging pillows, anything to keep herself busy, anything to avoid the gnawing ache in her chest. Every movement felt heavy, deliberate, as though her body had forgotten how to function without the guilt twisting her insides.

When she finally sat next to Jey, the room was quiet. Too quiet. She stared at him for a moment, his face relaxed but strained, the pain etched in his brow. He’d always been her rock, the one person who could steady her in the chaos of their lives, and now, he was sitting there, hurt because of her mistake.

She cleared her throat, trying to shake the dark thoughts away. “I can stay, you know? I’ll call in, tell them—”

“Don’t.” Jey cut her off, his tone gentle but firm. He shifted slightly, turning his gaze to her, his dark eyes soft but unwavering. “You need to go. We’re still in the tournament. You can’t let this stop you.”

Rhea bit the inside of her cheek, the words she wanted to say caught in her throat. It wasn’t just about the tournament—it was about leaving him like this. After everything she’d put him through, after the injury that might sideline him for months, how could she walk away?

But Jey, as always, saw right through her.

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching out with his good arm to take her hand. “It’s not your fault. You hear me?” His grip was strong, reassuring, even if his body was broken.

Rhea blinked, her eyes stinging with the tears she refused to shed. She couldn’t show him how much this was destroying her—not now. Not when he needed her to be strong. She squeezed his hand back and nodded, even though the words felt hollow.

“I’ll check in after the show,” she promised, standing abruptly. The weight in her chest only grew heavier as she moved to grab her suitcase she had packed earlier in the day before leaving to get Jey from the hospital. The silence between them stretched, thick with unspoken words, unexpressed feelings.

She lingered in the doorway, casting one last glance at Jey. He gave her a reassuring nod, the same look he always gave her before a match, as if to say, Go handle business. But this wasn’t the same. It wasn’t a match. It was her life, their life, spiraling in directions she wasn’t sure how to control.

The door clicked shut behind her, and as she stood on the porch, staring into the dimming Pensacola sky, the knot in her stomach tightened.

Her flight to Houston would be leaving in about an hour, but her mind was still back in that living room, with Jey, where she should be. The road was calling, and so was WWE, but for the first time, it felt like she didn’t belong anywhere. Rhea forced herself out of her thoughts, suitcase in hand, making her way to the Uber to leave Jey…

-- Next Day, Smackdown.

The Houston arena for SmackDow buzzed around Rhea, a cacophony of chatter, excitement, and the familiar pulse of the show running in the background. She tried to focus, but her mind was miles away in Pensacola with Jey. Just as she was about to slip away for a quiet moment, she felt a hand clap on her shoulder.

Turning around, she found herself face-to-face with Hunter. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but the hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Got some news for you, Rhea,” he said, crossing his arms. “I’ve found you a new partner.”

Rhea’s face fell instantly. “Hunter, I…I should just drop out. Maybe go for something different down the line. It doesn’t feel right—”

Hunter’s chuckle cut her off. “You’re not dropping out,” he said with a slight shake of his head. “Besides, I’ve got the perfect partner lined up for you.” He motioned to someone just behind him.

Rhea’s stomach dropped as Jimmy Uso stepped into view, a wide grin spreading across his face. Rhea crossed her arms, fixing Hunter with an exasperated stare. “You can’t be serious.”

Hunter laughed again, looking between her and Jimmy. “Who better than your boyfriend’s twin brother? The fans are gonna eat this up,” he said with a satisfied nod. He slapped Jimmy’s back. “Make sure he knows that finisher you and Jey do,” he added before turning and disappearing down the hallway, leaving them alone.

Jimmy’s grin hadn’t faded, and he tilted his head as he studied her. “Look, Rhea, I know you probably aren’t thrilled about this,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, “but…I need this, too. Just as much as Jey did.”

His voice softened, and for the first time, Rhea saw a glimpse of something genuine beneath Jimmy’s usual confidence. Her annoyance wavered. He did need this, didn’t he? She could relate to that desperation for a push, that craving to step out of the shadows and prove himself. Jey had needed this, and maybe, in his own way, so did Jimmy.

After a long pause, she sighed. “Fine,” she murmured, though her voice held a slight edge of reluctance. She was still adjusting, still trying to convince herself that this was the right choice.

Jimmy’s smile returned, broader this time, as if he’d won her over. “Good. We’ll make this work.” He looked down at his attire—a bright red getup that screamed anything but “Rhea’s partner.”

She huffed, gesturing to his clothes with a wave of her hand. “Are you going to dress like this?” she asked, her irritation creeping back in. “Do you have anything in black? Jey always matched with me in blue and black.”

Jimmy blinked, glancing down at his outfit. “Uh, yeah, I think I’ve got something. I can switch it up,” he said, looking more amused than offended by her annoyance.

“Great,” Rhea muttered, pressing her lips together in a line. She wasn’t quite ready to trust him, but for now, it would have to do. Hunter had made his decision, and her path was set.

Jimmy extended a fist, his smile now mischievous. “To new partners?”

After a brief hesitation, Rhea tapped her fist against his. “To new partners,” she echoed, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to get complicated.

--

The arena darkens, and the crowd roars in anticipation as Rhea’s music hits, her signature brooding entrance filling the stage with smoky shadows. The commentators’ voices cut through the din of the crowd.

Wade Barrett: “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re about to witness something absolutely unprecedented here on SmackDown. Rhea Ripley is walking out alone tonight, but it’s what happened last week in Pensacola at RAW that’s on everyone’s mind.”

Corey Graves: “That’s right, Wade. In a shocking twist, Jey Uso—Rhea’s tag partner and, let’s not forget, her boyfriend—suffered a devastating shoulder injury after an unfortunate misstep during their match. A torn rotator cuff, as we’ve heard, and it looks like Jey will be out of action for months!”

The camera cuts to Rhea as she reaches the ring, her face set in a determined expression as the audience begins to cheer. She slides under the ropes, standing tall as her theme fades and the lights come up. Rhea’s gaze is fixed, her silence adding to the anticipation.

While continuing to play Rhea’s music, the titantrons showed a recap of Jey’s injury, including seeing Rhea rush to his side and seeing Jey get strapped to the stretcher. The camera then reverted back to Rhea as she had a somber look on her face.

Wade Barrett: [in a solemn tone] “It’s a heartbreaking situation for both of them, Corey. They were favorites to win the first-ever Mixed Gender Tag Team Titles, and now Jey’s dreams have been shattered—at least for the foreseeable future.”

Corey Graves: “Rhea has got the heart of a champion, Wade. She’s clearly here to finish what she and Jey started, but the question everyone’s asking is… who’s stepping into the ring with her? Who could possibly fill Jey’s shoes?”

Wade Barrett: [speculatively] “Rhea Ripley isn’t one to just team up with anybody. Whoever this mystery partner is, they’ve got to bring something special to this team—and they’d better be ready to keep up with The Eradicator herself.”

A few beats of silence pass as the crowd simmers in excitement. Then, Jimmy Uso’s music hits, and the audience erupts in a mix of cheers and gasps, recognizing the familiar notes.

Corey Graves: “Wait a minute… No way. Are you kidding me?”

Wade Barrett: [genuinely shocked] “This is…this is unbelievable! Jimmy Uso is Rhea’s new partner?!”

The camera catches Rhea’s reaction—a brief flash of surprise mixed with what looks like reluctance before she schools her expression. Meanwhile, Jimmy appears on the stage, a wide grin lighting up his face as he soaks in the crowd’s energy.

Corey Graves: “Talk about making a statement! Jimmy Uso, Jey’s own twin brother, stepping into his shoes? You’ve got to admit, Wade, this is some next-level storytelling! Who better to partner with Rhea than Jey’s own flesh and blood?”

Wade Barrett: [recovering, now intrigued] “Absolutely, Corey. The symmetry is perfect—but let’s not forget the very real emotional weight here. Jey’s sidelined, and now his brother is stepping up? It’s bound to be complicated for everyone involved, especially for Rhea.”

Corey Graves: “Complicated? This is a goldmine of tension, Wade! Just imagine what’s going through Jey’s mind right now, watching his twin and his girlfriend out here in the spotlight together. And if I know Jimmy, he’s ready to seize this moment.”

As Jimmy makes his way down the ramp, he throws a playful gesture to Rhea, who nods, but her stance remains guarded. The crowd is still roaring, caught between excitement for Jimmy and concern for Jey.

Wade Barrett: “There’s no doubt Jimmy is charismatic, but this isn’t just any match, Corey. This is the semi-finals for the Mixed Gender Tag Titles that we temporarily paused just so Rhea could find a partner and now Rhea and Jimmy have one shot to prove their teamwork is more than just a storyline twist.”

Corey Graves: “And it’s a smart move from management too. These two might have the family connection, but tonight will show if Jimmy has what it takes to go from Jey’s backup to a true partner for Rhea.”

As Jimmy joins Rhea in the ring, the two exchange a quick, loaded glance—Rhea’s eyes narrowing slightly, Jimmy’s grin softening into a look of determination. The crowd’s cheers swell again as the two prepare to face the next challenge.

Wade Barrett: “Whether she likes it or not, Rhea’s got her new partner. And Jimmy Uso? Well, he’s got the chance of a lifetime to show what he can do alongside one of the most ruthless forces in WWE today.”

Corey Graves: “This is either the start of something incredible—or a recipe for disaster. And I, for one, am here for it.”

The camera pulls back, capturing the electric atmosphere as the crowd’s energy reaches a fever pitch. The stage is set, and all eyes are on Rhea and Jimmy.

The arena buzzes with anticipation as the bell rings, signaling the start of the Mixed Gender Tag Team Semi-Final match. Rhea and Jimmy stand in their corner, both visibly determined, while Scarlett and Karrion Kross exchange confident smirks from the opposite side.

Wade Barrett: “Here we go! This is what we’ve been waiting for! Rhea and Jimmy are set to face off against Karrion Kross and Scarlett, and you can feel the tension in the air!”

Corey Graves: “This is going to be a war! Each team has something to prove, and it’s clear that Rhea is still feeling the emotional weight of Jey’s injury.”

Rhea and Scarlett start off in the ring, circling each other before locking up. Rhea quickly gains the upper hand, shoving Scarlett back into the corner. The crowd roars as Rhea delivers a fierce shoulder block, followed by a series of hard strikes that back Scarlett up.

Wade Barrett: “Rhea is showing no mercy early on! She’s got that fire we know her for.”

Scarlett manages to dodge a punch and retaliates with a swift kick to Rhea’s midsection, gaining control. She follows up with a sharp DDT, driving Rhea’s head into the mat. The crowd gasps as Rhea crumples to the canvas, and Scarlett pulls her up by her hair, showing a ruthless streak.

Corey Graves: “Scarlett is bringing the fight to Rhea! This is a brutal matchup, and you can see that she wants to make a statement.”

Scarlett tags Karrion Kross in, and the atmosphere thickens. Karrion steps in, his gaze fixated on Jimmy, who is seething at ringside. Karrion grabs Rhea by her hair, taunting Jimmy with a sadistic grin.

Wade Barrett: “This is a mind game, Corey! Karrion is getting into Jimmy’s head, and it’s working!”

Jimmy leans over the ropes, fists clenched, but the referee quickly reminds him he’s not the legal man. Karrion laughs, reveling in the chaos, and continues to talk trash to Jimmy while holding Rhea’s hair.

Corey Graves: “Karrion knows exactly what he’s doing! He’s playing with fire, and Jimmy looks ready to explode!”

Suddenly, Rhea drives her elbow into Karrion’s eye, breaking free of his grip. The crowd erupts as she scrambles toward Jimmy, her hand outstretched for the tag.

Wade Barrett: “Rhea’s got to make this tag! She needs Jimmy in there!”

She reaches him just in time, tagging Jimmy in, and the crowd goes wild as he storms into the ring. Jimmy wastes no time, launching into Karrion with a flurry of punches that sends Karrion reeling. The energy shifts as Jimmy gains momentum, delivering a series of kicks and a powerful Samoan drop that has the crowd roaring in approval.

Corey Graves: “There’s the Uso we know! Jimmy is bringing the heat now!”

As the match continues, Karrion attempts to fight back, but Jimmy keeps him at bay. He tags Rhea back in, and the duo launches a series of quick tags, keeping Karrion off balance. The audience is on their feet, rallying behind the makeshift team.

But then, Scarlett pulls Rhea down by the hair again, drawing a loud chorus of boos from the audience. Rhea fights back fiercely, but the damage has been done. She and Scarlett continue to trade blows, with Scarlett eventually gaining the upper hand with a stiff kick to Rhea’s midsection, knocking her back into the corner.

Wade Barrett: “Scarlett is relentless! Rhea’s got to dig deep to pull this back.”

Scarlett tags Karrion back in, and he steps forward, eyeing Jimmy with a smirk. Rhea tries to rally, but Karrion overwhelms her, using his power to ground her. He continues to taunt Jimmy, who is practically vibrating with anger on the sidelines.

Corey Graves: “Karrion is not letting up! He knows how to push Jimmy’s buttons, and it’s working beautifully.”

As Karrion prepares to give Rhea his finisher, she manages to dodge the big move, and in a moment of instinct, she shoves Karrion toward the ropes. He stumbles, and Rhea takes the opportunity to tag Jimmy in again, the crowd erupting into cheers as he charges in.

Wade Barrett: “And here comes Jimmy with a fresh burst of energy!”

Jimmy goes after Karrion with a series of explosive moves, including a superkick that sends Karrion reeling. The action intensifies, with Rhea and Jimmy coordinating their attacks. As the match nears its conclusion, Rhea looks at Jimmy and whispers their plan.

Rhea: “Let’s do the double superkick! I don’t want to use our old finisher.”

Jimmy nods, determination shining in his eyes. They position themselves, waiting for Karrion to rise. As he turns, Rhea and Jimmy execute the double superkick perfectly, sending Karrion crashing to the mat.

Corey Graves: “There it is! What a combination! This could be it!”

Rhea quickly tackles Scarlett as Jimmy covers Karrion for the pin. The referee slides into position and slaps the mat—

1!

2!

3!

The bell rings, and the crowd erupts in cheers as Jimmy and Rhea’s music hits. Rhea leaps onto Jimmy, who catches her in a tight embrace, spinning her around in celebration.

Wade Barrett: “What a victory! Rhea and Jimmy Uso have done it! They’ve secured their spot in the finals!”

Corey Graves: “What an impressive performance! The tension between these two could become something spectacular moving forward.”

As they celebrate in the ring, Rhea’s expression shifts between joy and determination, and Jimmy holds her tight, a sense of shared triumph settling between them.

Wade Barrett: “But you can’t help but wonder—how will this affect Jey? The fallout from this match could have serious consequences for the entire Uso family.”

The camera fades out on their celebration, leaving the audience buzzing with anticipation for what’s to come in the finals.

--

As the match concluded, the arena reverberated with cheers, and Rhea found herself swept up in a whirlwind of exhilaration. She hadn’t expected to feel this lighthearted after such a tumultuous time. The weight of Jey's injury had hung heavily over her, but in this moment, she felt a spark of joy, a glimmer of hope for what lay ahead.

Rhea and Jimmy made their way backstage, the adrenaline still coursing through their veins. Laughter bubbled up between them, breaking the tension that had existed since the beginning of the tournament. Jimmy nudged Rhea playfully, his excitement infectious.

“Did you see the look on Karrion’s face when we hit that double superkick?” he chuckled, glancing at Rhea with a grin. “I thought he was going to cry!”

Rhea chuckled, shaking her head. “You could hear the crowd’s reaction all the way in the back! I think we’ve found our chemistry, partner.”

Just then, Cathy Kelly approached them, her camera crew ready to capture the moment. Rhea felt a surge of energy; she was no stranger to the spotlight, but tonight felt different.

“Hey, guys!” Cathy greeted, her smile wide. “What an incredible match! How does it feel to secure your spot in the finals?”

Rhea exchanged a glance with Jimmy, who nodded at her, giving her the go-ahead to answer. “It feels amazing, Cathy! I didn’t expect to be here after everything that’s happened,” Rhea replied, her voice full of emotion. “But tonight, I felt like I was finally able to break free and show what I can do.”

Cathy leaned in, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Jimmy, you stepped in to replace your brother. What was it like to partner with Rhea tonight, especially given the circumstances?”

Jimmy straightened, his confidence shining through. “It was an honor, honestly. Rhea’s one of the best in the business, and I knew I had to step up my game. We’ve got the skills, and together, we can make some noise in this finale.”

Rhea felt a swell of pride at his words. Despite their initial hesitation, she and Jimmy had forged a partnership that felt electric. Cathy’s next question caught her off guard.

“There’s been a lot of speculation about how Jey feels watching you two work together. Any thoughts on that?”

The atmosphere shifted slightly, the happiness in Rhea's chest being overshadowed by a twinge of guilt. She bit her lip, glancing at Jimmy before responding. “Jey and I have been through a lot together. I know this isn’t easy for him, and I want him to know that he’s still my priority. But I can’t ignore the opportunity in front of me.”

Cathy nodded, sensing the weight of Rhea's words. “And Jimmy, how do you feel about your brother's situation?”

Jimmy hesitated for a moment, the question hanging in the air. “Look, I care about Jey. We’re brothers, and I want him to be back in the ring as soon as possible. But I also see this as a chance for both of us to shine. I know he’ll understand.”

The three exchanged a moment of silence, the implications of their situation hanging heavy in the air. Rhea felt a mix of happiness and sadness, grateful for the moment but acutely aware of the familial ties that were being tested.

“Any final thoughts as you head into the finals?” Cathy asked, eager to close out the interview.

Rhea smiled, determination flashing in her eyes. “Just that we’re going to give it everything we’ve got. This tournament means a lot to me, and I won’t let anyone down—especially not Jey.”

As they finished the interview, Rhea felt a renewed sense of purpose. They had overcome the first hurdle, and now it was time to focus on what lay ahead. With Jimmy by her side, she felt ready to take on whatever challenges awaited them.

The locker room was empty and the air was thick with a mixture of sweat and excitement. Jimmy sat on a wooden bench, packing his bag with quick, deliberate motions, still riding the high of their victory. The post-match adrenaline coursed through him, but it was more than just the thrill of winning that occupied his thoughts.

Once he finished, he glanced up to see Rhea making her way to the showers, a casual confidence in her stride. The energy around her was intoxicating. As she disappeared into the shower area, he felt a pull of emotions—excitement mingled with something darker that he didn’t want to acknowledge.

After a few moments, Jimmy noticed she started to undress, Jimmy felt his breath hitch in his throat. The reflection in the locker room mirror caught him off guard; he was captivated by the way her curves moved under the soft light.

He tried to focus on his bag, but his eyes betrayed him, drawn to Rhea’s silhouette. There was an undeniable beauty in her confidence, a grace that made her stand out even among the strongest competitors. In that moment, the reality of her being Jey’s girlfriend felt miles away, overshadowed by the intensity of his desire.

What the hell am I doing? Jimmy thought, feeling a rush of heat flood his cheeks. She was his brother’s girlfriend, a sacred bond that he knew he should respect. But the way she moved, the way her skin glistened with moisture, ignited something possessive deep within him.

As Rhea became completely nude, he couldn’t help but admire the curves that had always made him a little weak in the knees. Her confidence in her own skin was both exhilarating and infuriating. He felt a familiar tightening in his chest, a primal urge to protect her, to claim her. It was an irrational thought—she wasn’t a possession, and she belonged to Jey, but in that moment, it didn’t matter.

A darker part of him, a part he didn’t want to acknowledge, whispered that he could be the one to make her feel desired. To show her what it meant to be with someone who truly appreciated her strength. The possessiveness wrapped around him like a heavy cloak, blurring the lines between loyalty and longing.

You know he’d want you to take care of her, the voice in his mind taunted, feeding into his desire. The thought sent shivers down his spine. You’re just doing what family does. Protect her.

But as the reflection of Rhea continued to captivate him, he knew the truth. This wasn’t about protecting; it was about wanting. And that want was growing more consuming by the second.

What I would do to push her up against the wall and fuck her mercilessly.. One time Jey had spoken about Rhea craving rough sex and now, seeing her nude, it made his dick ache at the thought of how she sounded when she moaned and just imagining how she felt.

Rhea, blissfully unaware of the turmoil brewing within Jimmy, hummed softly to herself, entirely absorbed in her post-match glow. She didn’t see the way his gaze lingered on her, the intensity of his stare that spoke volumes. In her mind, they were teammates—friends bound by circumstance, not the tangled emotions that were quietly unraveling within him.

As she turned to grab a towel, Jimmy broke the gaze and pretended to finish packing his bag.

“Hey, you ready?” Rhea called, breaking the spell.

“Yeah, just about,” he replied, forcing a casual tone as he finished packing. But inside, he was a storm of conflicting emotions, grappling with the undeniable truth that the lines between friendship and desire were becoming dangerously blurred.

As he watched Rhea continued to dry herself and get changed, the possessive nature that simmered beneath the surface would only grow, and for now, Rhea remained blissfully unaware of the tension threading through their dynamic—a tension that promised to complicate everything.

--

Rhea and Jimmy made their way to the hotel, a mixture of excitement and lingering adrenaline coursing through their veins. The arena's energy still buzzed in Rhea's mind as they approached the reception desk.

Jimmy checked in first, flashing his trademark smile at the receptionist, who blushed slightly as she handed him the key to his room. “Thanks,” he said, winking at her before turning to Rhea. “All set! Room 305.”

Rhea stepped up to the desk, feeling the anticipation of the night settle in. “Hi, I’d like to check in for Demi Bennett, please,” she said, her tone bright.

The receptionist’s fingers danced across the keyboard, her smile faltering slightly. “I’m sorry, but it looks like there was an issue with your reservation. It was never properly booked, and unfortunately, we have no available rooms at the moment.”

Rhea’s heart sank, her excitement replaced by frustration. “What do you mean? I booked that room weeks ago!”

“I’m really sorry. I can check with other nearby hotels if you’d like,” the receptionist offered, her expression apologetic.

Rhea sighed, feeling the weight of the situation press down on her. “No, that’s alright. I’ll just—”

Before she could finish her sentence, Jimmy interjected, his eyes lighting up with a mischievous glint. “Why don’t you just stay with me?”

Rhea blinked, momentarily taken aback. “What? No, I couldn’t do that.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun! We just had an awesome match together. It’s not like we’re strangers,” he said, his tone teasing, but the underlying intensity in his eyes didn’t escape her notice.

She hesitated, glancing back at the receptionist, who looked as if she were trying not to eavesdrop. “Are you sure that’s okay?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, his confidence radiating. “Plus, you can’t sleep in the lobby. It’ll be great. I have a king bed!”

Rhea raised an eyebrow. “A king bed? And what if I take up too much space?”

Jimmy chuckled, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “I think I can handle it. I promise I won’t kick you out. Just think of it as a continuation of our tag team bonding.”

Rhea rolled her eyes but felt a flutter of excitement at the idea, despite her better judgment. “Alright, I guess it’s better than sleeping on the floor.”

As they made their way to the elevator, a sense of tension filled the air, electrifying the space between them. Rhea’s heart raced, unsure if it was due to the thrill of their match or the thought of sharing a bed with Jimmy.

When they reached his room, Jimmy swung the door open and stepped inside, gesturing for her to follow. Rhea stepped in and froze for a moment as her gaze swept over the room. It was stylishly decorated, but her attention quickly honed in on the bed—a massive king, yet still a single bed for the two of them.

“Wow, they gave you a nice room.." she said, trying to keep her voice casual, even as she felt a wave of uncertainty wash over her.

“It's not bad” Jimmy replied, clearly pleased. He dropped his bag onto the floor and turned to face her. “Make yourself at home.”

Rhea took a hesitant step forward, her mind racing. This was not how she envisioned their night together. The reality of sharing a bed with her boyfriend’s brother felt increasingly surreal.

“Uh, so… what do we do now?” she asked, trying to deflect the tension.

“Honestly? I think we should celebrate our win,” he said, grinning as he reached into the mini-fridge, pulling out a couple of bottles of water. “Here, hydration is key.”

She accepted a bottle, grateful for the distraction. “Yeah, we did great tonight,” she replied, her smile genuine but tinged with nervousness.

They stood in the middle of the room, a subtle tension hanging in the air. Rhea’s heart raced, partly from the excitement of their victory and partly from the uncertainty of sharing a space with Jimmy. She took a deep breath, willing herself to shake off the weirdness of the situation.

As the minutes passed, they chatted about the match, the conversation flowing easily. Yet, each laugh and playful jab between them drew them closer, amplifying the undercurrents of unspoken emotions swirling beneath the surface.

Finally, Rhea glanced at the bed, her mind racing. “So… how do you want to handle sleeping arrangements?” she asked, feigning casualness but feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

Jimmy’s gaze flicked to the bed, and he leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. “Honestly, I don’t mind if we both sleep on the bed. But just so you know, I’m a blanket hog.”

“Great,” she replied with a playful roll of her eyes. “So, it’s a battle for warmth, then?”

“Exactly,” he said, a grin spreading across his face.

As they settled into a rhythm, Rhea couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a pivotal moment. The playful banter masked a deeper tension, and the longer they spent together, the more she felt the boundaries shift.

With those thoughts swirling in her mind, Rhea took a deep breath, preparing for whatever the night had in store.

Later that night, Rhea laid on the bed, the adrenaline from the match still coursing through her veins. Jimmy had retreated to the bathroom to shower, leaving her alone with her thoughts. As she stared at the ceiling, a sense of calm settled over her from their victory, but it was quickly interrupted by the sharp trill of her phone.

She glanced at the screen, her heart skipping a beat as she saw Jey's name light up. Excited yet nervous, she answered, “Hey, babe!”

“Rhea,” Jey’s voice came through the line, steady but laced with concern. “I just watched your match.”

“Yeah? What did you think?” she asked, trying to keep her tone upbeat despite the unease creeping in.

“I thought you did amazing, but…” He paused, the weight of his words heavy in the air. “But I didn’t like the idea of Jimmy filling in for me. It felt wrong.”

Rhea felt her stomach twist at the mention of his brother. “Jey, listen. I had no choice. I didn’t want to let the opportunity slip away. The tournament is important for both of our careers.”

“Right, but it’s Jimmy. You know how he can be. I just…” Jey’s voice trailed off, and she could hear the concern in his tone. “I don’t want him getting any ideas, Rhea.”

She took a deep breath, knowing how to soothe him. “Jey, you know I love you. I would never do anything to break your trust. You mean everything to me. I’m with you, not him.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just… seeing you two together, working so closely… it makes me feel uneasy.” He hesitated again, and she could almost hear the wheels turning in his mind. “What if he gets too comfortable? I don’t want him thinking he can come between us.”

“Jimmy isn’t like that,” Rhea reassured him, though she could sense the unspoken jealousy lingering in the air. “We’re just focused on the match. You’re my boyfriend, and that won’t change. He’s just a partner for this tournament.”

Jey sighed, and she imagined him running a hand through his hair, a habit he had when he was stressed. “I know it’s just wrestling, but it’s hard not to worry. I can’t be there to protect you right now.”

Rhea’s heart warmed at his protective nature. “I appreciate that, Jey. But I can take care of myself. And you have to trust that I love you. That won’t ever change.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he finally admitted, his voice softening. “I just miss you, you know?”

“I miss you too,” she replied, her heart swelling at the thought of him. “But we’re in this together, remember? We’ll get through it. You’ll be back before you know it.”

“Yeah. I just want you to be safe, and happy. That’s all that matters to me,” Jey said, his voice full of sincerity.

“I am happy, Jey, especially when I’m with you. I love you,” Rhea said, her voice firm, wanting to drive her point home.

“I love you too, Rhea. Just… be careful, alright?” Jey urged, and she could hear the hint of vulnerability in his tone.

“I will. I promise. Just focus on your recovery for now, okay? We’ll celebrate when you’re back.”

“Deal,” he said, relief seeping into his voice. “Talk to you later?”

“Of course. Bye, Jey.”

As she ended the call, Rhea felt a weight lift off her shoulders. But as she turned to share her joy with Jimmy, she found him standing in the bathroom doorway, freshly showered and dressed in a pair of sweats, his expression unreadable.

“Everything okay?” he asked, but his tone carried an edge of irritation.

“Yeah, Jey just called to check in. He was worried about me teaming with you,” she replied, trying to keep her voice light.

Jimmy’s jaw clenched slightly at the mention of Jey’s name, the jealousy in his eyes unmistakable. “Right, because he thinks I’m going to try something.”

Rhea frowned, not wanting to stir the pot. “It’s not like that, Jimmy. Jey just cares about me. It’s what boyfriends do.”

“Sure,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “And what about you? Do you care about him? Or is this whole thing just a fling for you?”

Rhea’s brows knitted together in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you and Jey have a history. You’re not exactly just some random partner for me. I know that,” he snapped, his jealousy surfacing more openly now.

“Jimmy, it’s not like that. Jey and I are solid, but this is about the tag titles. You’re a great partner,” she said, trying to diffuse the tension.

“Right,” he said, his tone darkening. “Just remember who you’re sharing a bed with tonight.”

Rhea met his gaze, the playful atmosphere of earlier gone, replaced by an undercurrent of tension. “It’s just a hotel room, Jimmy. We’re still a team.”

“Yeah, a team,” he echoed, but the possessive glint in his eyes told her that this situation was far more complicated than she realized.

With that unspoken challenge hanging in the air, Rhea felt the delicate balance between them shift once more. She had to navigate not just the expectations of the tournament but also the emotional turmoil brewing just beneath the surface.

[pink-sparkly-witch]

The Widow - Chapter One

Chapter One

Summary: Sam and Y/N are happily married, but everything changes after a fatal car accident leaves her a widow. The Winchester motto: “Family Don’t End with Blood,” takes on a whole new meaning for Y/N as she navigates her new normal with the help of her brother-in-law, Dean. But what no one can tell her is what happens when she falls in love again.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x F!Reader | Dean Winchester x F!Reader (eventual)

Warnings: Major character death, angst, description of injuries, grief, catatonic state

Words: 2,147

A/N: Well, here we go! This is the first part of this story that started as a tiny seedling months ago and just kept growing and growing until I just had to get it out of my head and onto the page. I hope you enjoy this emotional rollercoaster! 

My Masterlist     AO3    Ko-Fi

“Hey baby,” Sam greeted when you answered the phone. You could hear the grin in his voice, and it made you smile. “How’s your day been?”

“Well, hello there, my sexy husband!” You grinned as you heard Sam quietly chuckle down the phone. It was the kind of chuckle that always came out when he was embarrassed, and you smiled wider knowing you could have such an effect on him. “My day was good. You know that project that I wanted to be lead on?” you asked him.

“Yeah?” Sam responded patiently. You knew that he knew you’d got it, but you had to build the suspense just a little bit.

“Well… I got it!”

“Baby, that’s fantastic! I knew you could do it. There was never a doubt in my mind it’d go to anyone else!” Sam was always your biggest champion. He was always there cheering you on from the sidelines and always had your back, no matter what. “I’m so proud of you, Y/N.”

“If I do good, I’ll be promoted to Senior Project Manager. I’d be running my own team, Sam! Free reign to pick my own projects to run with! Can you imagine?”

“Yeah actually, I can,” he announced matter-of-factly. “You have always worked hard for what you want, and always get it. I have no doubt you’ll nail this project, get your promotion, and be running the company before long!”

“Aw, Sammy, thank you for always encouraging me to chase my dreams. It’s one of the many, many reasons I love you!”

“Oh, so there are many, many reasons you love me, huh?” His voice was low and teasing, and you smirked as you waited for him to continue. “And would another of those many, many reasons be because of the sounds I made you make last night and again this morning?”

“Samuel William Winchester! You are at work! Behave yourself!” You tried to keep your voice firm, but the man was right, and you laughed despite yourself.

“Speaking of work…” Sam sighed.

“I know, Sam. And it’s okay. You need to prepare for the most important case of your career. The case that’ll make you partner, and…”

“If I win.”

“You will win. Then you’ll be the youngest partner the firm has ever seen. I get it, babe. Go! Work. And bring home partner, alright?” You smiled at your husband’s quiet chuckle.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Sam praised.

“So I’ve heard,” you teased.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I love you. And once I make partner…”

“I know,” you cut him off before he beat himself up even more about the late nights and weekends at the office. “It’s okay. Now go! The sooner you get back to work, the sooner you can come home and get some rest.”

“Alright, baby. It’ll be after midnight when I’m done, so don’t wait up. I love you, Y/N/N.”

“I love you too, Sammy.”

The weather was perfect. Not too hot for this time of year, but warm enough that you could wear a sundress on the picnic date Sam insisted he takes you on once the trial was over and he’d made partner. Everything he’d worked so hard for was now a reality, and, as he kept insisting, it was your time now.

He really didn’t need to. You knew he loved you and would do anything for you, even give up on his dreams if you’d asked him to, but for some reason that you couldn’t fathom (and wouldn’t complain about), he insisted you needed to be treated like a princess and reminded of how much he loved you.

“Sam, this is beautiful,” you gasped in awe as he unpacked the basket full of fresh and vibrant fruits, miniature cakes and pastries, and sandwiches that wouldn’t look out of place in the afternoon teas of the Ritz-Carlton in New York City. “You did all this for me?”

“I may have had some help from Jody,” he chuckled, “but I am fully responsible for this…” he smirked over at you as he pulled a bottle of champagne from the hamper. “It’s the same one you picked out for our wedding,” he added, and you smiled at the blush that crept up his neck and across his cheeks. He cleared his throat in that adorable nervous habit of his as he looked at you with lowered eyes and waited for your reaction. God, those puppy eyes were gonna be the death of you one day.

“Sam…” you cleared your throat trying to rid yourself of the overwhelming love you had for this man, the love that continued to grow with each day that passed. “It’s perfect. You didn’t need to do any of this.”

“I know,” Sam stated, gazing so intently into your eyes it felt like he was looking into the deepest parts of your soul. “But I wanted to. I have missed too many home-cooked meals and weekends with you, and I can never get that time back. This…” he gestured to the spread in front of him, “is the least I can do.”

Ding.

The clock from the town hall began to chime the new hour. “Sam,” you smiled, fighting back happy tears, “I love you, and I know everything you’ve done is for us and for our future. You should never apologise for that, ever.”

Ding.

“Baby, I know you don’t need grand gestures and over-the-top declarations of my love. It’s one of the many, many reasons I love you,” Sam smirked. “I want to take my wife on surprise, and hopefully, romantic dates. I want to spoil you as much as I can. Please, let me?”

Ding.

“Sam, I…” 

Knock knock.

You jerk awake, suddenly aware that you aren’t in the park having a romantic picnic with your husband. Instead, you’re having a very vivid dream and the town hall clock isn't chiming the new hour; someone is knocking on your door. Confused, your sleep-heavy eyes seek out the alarm clock on the bedside table and panic as you take in the time.

2:14am

You scramble from the bed, your foot trapped in the duvet, causing you to trip and lose your balance, managing to catch yourself just before you fall. Cursing softly and grabbing the robe that lies at the bottom of the bed, you quickly put it on and run down the stairs.

Opening the door, your stomach drops as your eyes scan over the sombre faces of two uniformed officers. “Mrs Winchester?” The taller of the two asks with a tone you’ve only heard from police officers in TV shows and movies.

“Yes?” You answered, the heavy feeling of dread settling deep in your stomach.

“I’m Sergeant Graham and this is my colleague, Officer Diaz. May we come in?”

“Uh, sure,” you take a step back and open the door further, inviting the officers in.

“Please take a seat, Mrs Winchester,” the sergeant requests, using a soft but firm voice, and you find yourself obeying quickly. “Your husband, Sam Winchester, was in a car accident.” He continues calmly, and your heart begins to hammer against your rib cage. “He was travelling down East 15th at its junction with Park, and he had the green light, but he was struck by a drunk driver who ran the red.”

Tears begin to pool in your eyes, and you will yourself not to think the worst, but you know it’s pointless. Two officers don’t come to your door in the middle of the night to tell you that your husband was in an accident and has been lucky enough to only sustain minor cuts and bruises.

“The truck hit the driver’s side of your husband’s car at high speed, and I’m sorry to tell you he was killed on impact…” Whatever else the sergeant says is drowned out by a deafening ringing in your ears. Your chest tightens and you can feel nausea rising in your gut.

A noise much louder than the ringing starts to make itself known. It’s the sound of a wounded animal. An anguished howl that will forever be ingrained in your memories, and the thing that will startle you awake from the nightmares you’ll surely have.

It’s only when the fog begins to clear, and the ringing stops completely, do you finally realise the howling is coming from you.

You had sat in the waiting room exhausted emotionally and physically. Once you’d calmed down enough for the officers to talk to you again, you changed from your sleep shirt and shorts into yoga pants and one of Sam’s t-shirts, before they drove you to the hospital. You’ve been here for hours now. The countless forms you’d filled out and endless sheets of paper that now contained your signature, however, were nothing compared to seeing your husband.

Someone had cleaned him up and sutured various cuts – the deepest on his forehead – but the other injuries he’d suffered were still all too obvious. All the skin you could see had turned purple with bruising. There were scrapes and grazes all over his chest and arms, and you knew from the doctor’s report that he had multiple broken bones and severe internal bleeding.

Time seemed to have stopped as you sat in that cold, sterile room with him, running your hand through his hair and sobbing quietly. You were grateful the nurse let you take your time with him and no one was rushing to get you out of there.

When you return to the reception desk an hour later, you’re handed another form, this one – you’re assured – is the last. The one that releases the belongings he had on his person at the time of the accident to you. His wedding ring, the watch you’d given him for Christmas, his wallet, cell phone, – which was surprisingly undamaged – and his battered briefcase.

His cell comes to life when you lift it from the plastic tray, showing you he has an unread message from Dean.

Dean 2:26am

You really need to stop working so late, dude. Drive safe and get home to that girl of yours!

Knowing that Sam had likely responded to a text Dean had sent much earlier in the day just before he set off on that fatal car journey hits you like a freight train. And knowing Dean’s reply, telling his brother to come home to you had come through when the police were telling you he’d died, was gut-wrenching. Fighting back more tears, you unlock your own cell phone and call the number you’d been dreading for hours now.

“Y/N, darlin’? It’s early… is everything alright?” The gravelly voice on the other end of the phone sounds tired, scared and confused. You figure getting a call at 6am will do that to a person.

“John–” You’d fought hard to keep your voice steady and strong, but what came out was shaky and meek. “It’s Sam…”

“Y/N?” Dean’s voice startles you out of your daze and you blink up at him from the uncomfortable plastic chair in the waiting room. Unsteadily, you rise to your feet and make your way over to him, throwing yourself into his outstretched arms.

“Dean,” you cry as more tears fall from your sore and swollen eyes. Dean is on you in an instant, wrapping you in his arms and holding on tight.

“C’mere. You shoulda called us, sweetheart. We’d have been here with you,” Dean’s voice is strong, but it still cracks with emotion. “You didn’t need to do this alone.” You sob into his chest until your legs give way, and he lowers you both to the ground, keeping his arms around you the whole time and settling you onto the floor.

You cling to him with every ounce of strength you have, knuckles going white, afraid that another person you love might leave you. But Dean holds you tighter, shushing you and stroking your back in a desperate bid to calm you down. The sobs only ease and your body stops trembling when he begins to rock you and hum Nothing Else Matters by Metallica in your ear.

John looks on from the doorway, seeming utterly devastated. Not only has he lost his youngest child today, but it's like he knows he’s also lost a part of his daughter-in-law that might not ever come back.

“Come on, darlin’. Let’s get you out of here, huh?” His soft voice floats from somewhere in the distance, but your vision is too blurry from tears and swollen from puffiness to see exactly where. 

Dean places a gentle kiss on your temple and helps you stand on shaky legs.

“Come on, Y/N. Let’s get you home. There’s nothing more we can do here.”

You nod at Dean and let him guide you to his car. 

Next Chapter>>

@deans-spinster-witch @muchamusedaboutnothing @kazsrm67 @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @leigh70 @waynes-multiverse @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

august 17, 2021 3:00 p.m. yonsei university

[grant] did your dad apologize for being a dick, though?

[henry] of course. he was a good person and realized he was being a bit weird. he just hated noise. i think he'd have been happy to be born with a set of noise-canceling headphones attached to him.

[grant] except maybe he liked your mom’s noise from that day forward!

[henry] he did, but even if he hated it, he was probably glad to have hers back after a while. almost half the time they dated, they didn’t even live in the same country.

[henry] my mom worked at an art shop somewhere in seoul, and my dad had this sweet gig working at a museum in paris while getting a doctorate and doing some traveling, visiting art museums on every continent. he got the doctorate, but gave up the job to come back and marry my mom.

[henry] and she won out, to be honest. him teaching here was a prestigious position, and his family are pretty well off because they're in banking and all, so she got to quit her job after marriage, have me, and just sculpt for fun.

[grant] that’s the dream, right?

[henry] i think so.

[grant] it’s nice to be genuinely in love but also to support each other’s passions, too, whether that's helping them pursue a job or a hobby. i mean, that’s everything. that's the deepest form of connection. oh yeah, definitely the dream.

[henry] for sure. there wasn’t much for my mom to help with because she was never wealthy and her parents weren’t either, but she was a huge moral support. she was my dad’s biggest fan. sometimes getting a doctorate sucked, and he wanted to quit, but it was hard to quit with her on the sidelines cheering.

[henry] that’s like me and soobin. not much i can do on the money front because i'm not rich and i won't take money from my parents, and i couldn’t help with her medical school because i'm a certifiably terrible student, but i can be and am her cheerleader.

[henry] and i may not have been a photographer without her. being an artist is the worst career choice unless someone else has money to throw at the bills. and i make an okay salary! i have solid clientele booking all year long, but i don't charge what i "should" because i feel wrong asking too much money to do wedding photos and all. that shit's expensive - i'll take a small cut off the going rate so they get all they want for the big day.

[henry] besides, the one thing in life that makes me nervous is clients being unhappy. everything else about a wedding goes away except the photos. if they're unhappy, i'd rather the pricing not be an extra issue, you know? at least let it be a cheap mistake.

[grant] but you would have still pursued this, right? i can’t imagine you not at least trying it out. you have always been set on some kind of photography as a career. even when you were having a crisis around college graduation about whether you should pursue high-brow art or something very human and realistic like you do now, you never questioned if photography was your truth.

[henry] i would have. i've always known it was my goal. i just think the financial stress may have worn me down eventually if she wasn’t willing to shoulder an extra share of the burden. like i said, charging people themselves is a strange thing, and you just never know what can happen. sure, i did end up with a good brand through putting myself out there on social media, but that was no guarantee.

[henry] if that hadn't worked out, i'd have been in trouble. and when you don't have a lot of clients or reach, you have to be conservative and sometimes that hurts you on growth. blah blah blah. point is, i owe soobin a lot, both for financial support and her total faith in me.

[grant] well, teamwork makes the dream work and all that!

[henry] hey, you're part of the team, too. there's no one else i'd rather call at 3AM asking to check the red balance on my pictures because everything looks green to me. and as it turns out, having a friend with a massive family who host many events requiring photography is excellent for clientele building.

[sequinsmile-x]

Thankful

Aaron invites Emily to Thanksgiving, and things change between them forever.

-x-

Hi besties <3

This years Thanksgiving fic is a little earlier this year because Thanksgiving is the SGW anniversary so I am posting chapter 80 on Thursday to mark it!!

Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate, and if you're about to have a really hard couple of days with family I am holding more space for you than queer Twitter is for the lyrics of defying gravity.

Here's a little getting together fic for you all, and as always let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: None

Words: 3.6k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Aaron groans and drops his pen to his desk, his fingers pressed into his temples as he looks back and forth between his completed pile of paperwork and what he has left to do. He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the headache he can feel building behind his eyes, and he blows out a breath. 

“Coffee,” he mumbles to himself as he stands up and grabs his mug. He smiles and nods at Derek as he steps out of his office, and he walks past Emily and JJ’s empty desks. He spots them standing in the kitchenette, both of their backs turned to him, and he’s about to call out and make them aware he’s there, but he comes to a stop when he hears their conversation. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come to ours for Thanksgiving? Henry would love it, and Will makes enough food to feed the whole street anyway.” 

Emily shakes her head, “It’s okay, I promise,” she replies, “I’m going to my mother’s. Part of my attempt to make good with her again after the whole faking my death thing.”

Aaron doesn’t have to see her face to know it’s a lie. Her relationship with her mother was still tense, at best, and he knew they barely spoke to each other. He’d offered to be a buffer of some sort, to go with her to see her mother - something he saw as his responsibility since her fake death had been his decision - but she’d turned him down. Her smile soft and appreciative as she told him she wouldn’t want to put him through that, her hand on his arm as he sucked in a breath and pretended that a simple touch from her combined with the smell of her perfume didn’t have him under her spell. 

He couldn’t remember when he fell in love with her. It had snuck up on him, his feelings for her shifting from mistrust to friendship to more so slowly that it felt as natural to him as breathing. His love for her so much a part of him he didn’t know what he’d be without it anymore. He couldn’t remember when he fell in love with her, but he remembered when he realised. A familiar pit in his stomach as he stood over her grave that he’d felt at Haley’s funeral, the same suit heavy on his shoulders as he threw a rose on top of her empty coffin - the only flower he’d ever given her. 

He told himself when she was in Paris that he’d do whatever was necessary to bring her home, that one day he’d get a chance to tell her that he loved her. Or at the very least, ask her out on a date. The reality of her return was different. She was a shell of herself, lost in the ruins of who she had once been - a feeling he was all too familiar with - and he knew there was very little she could take on top of the day-to-day of figuring out who she was now. He did his best to be there for her in the way that she’d let him, his support silent at first. Eventually, he knew he had to say something, worried that he’d lose her entirely if he didn’t, and they came to their agreement that she’d tell him when she had a bad day. 

It had restarted whatever closeness they’d had before Doyle. She would spend evenings and her Saturdays with him and Jack. She’d sit on the sidelines of the little boy’s soccer games and cheer for him, her smile as close to hers as Aaron had seen it since just before everything went to hell. Any thought or attempt at telling her how he felt about her had taken a backseat, and he knew that he’d simply be her friend forever if that’s what she needed from him. 

He clears his throat, feeling bad for eavesdropping, and they both turn to look at him, Emily’s smile slightly mischievous, “Sorry, Hotch.” 

He suppresses a smile and reaches behind her to grab the coffee pot, “That’s okay, Prentiss.” 

Outside of work, they only ever called each other by their first name, but they made a point of using surnames at work. They’d exchange a smirk as they did so and it had become a joke of sorts between them. 

JJ scoffs and rolls her eyes at them, “Everyone knows you’re friends, you know,” she says, smiling before she turns to leave, throwing another comment over her shoulder as she walks away, “It’s okay if you guys call each other by your first names in front of the rest of us from time to time.” 

Emily chuckles and shakes her head at JJ as she walks away, “We’ve been rumbled.” 

He hums as he puts the coffee pot back down, “Speaking of being rumbled…” he starts, and she raises her eyebrow at him in response, “You’re spending Thanksgiving at your mother’s?” 

She scrunches her nose up at him, “You heard that?” 

“I did,” he says, hiding his smile behind his mug, “You didn’t want to go to JJ’s?” 

She blows out a breath and looks around, making sure they are still alone, and she shrugs as she looks back at him, “This might sound awful, but I’m not sure I want to spend the day with them being an adorable happy family.”

“That doesn’t sound awful,” he assures her, “Sometimes the holidays just remind us…” 

“Of what we don’t have,” she finishes for him before she sighs and smiles sadly “So I will be perfectly happy eating an entire pan of homemade mac and cheese to myself and hanging out with Sergio.” 

Later, he’d wonder why he says what he says next. He isn’t sure if it’s the sadness she’s trying to hide from him, his love for her, or the thought of her spending a holiday alone, or even a combination of all three, but he finds himself talking before he really thinks about it.

“You could come over and spend the day with us if you’d like.” 

She shakes her head, already ready to argue with him, “Oh, I couldn’t intrude.” 

“It’s not intruding if I invite you,” he says, “Plus, I can promise no happy families. It’s me, Jack, Jess and her and Haley’s dad Roy who does not like me,” he smiles in a way he usually wouldn’t in the office, drawn in by her and the surprised laugh she breathes out, “So if anything, you’d be doing me a favour.”

She presses her lips together and looks at him curiously, and for a moment he’s sure she’s going to turn him down, but instead, she nods, her lips pressed together as she clears her throat, “Okay. That…that sounds nice. I’ll be here.” 

“Good,” he says, trying to tamper down his excitement, “Jack will be so excited - we all know you’re his favourite person.” 

She smiles, “Need me to bring anything?” 

“Maybe that homemade mac and cheese you were talking about?” 

She nods, “Okay,” she smiles at him, her lips pressed together as if she is holding something back, and then she clears her throat again, “I should go do some work.”

He nods, “I hear your boss is a bit of a tyrant.” 

She chuckles and shrugs, throwing him a wink before she walks away, “He’s not all bad.” 

___

She almost turns around and goes home. 

She finds herself standing on his doorstep, a casserole dish full of Mac and Cheese balancing on one of her hands and a bottle of wine tucked up under her arm, wondering why she’d agreed to this. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to spend the day with Aaron and Jack, it was her favourite thing to do, but spending Thanksgiving with them, a day for families and spending time with those you love, was enough to make her ache. 

She loved them in a way she wasn’t sure she had a right to. 

She’d loved Jack the moment she met him. He was adorable and cranky in Haley’s arms as she walked into the office looking for Aaron, his cries at least in part coming from him picking up on his mother’s bad mood. Emily offered to take Jack for a few minutes when Haley tried to pretend she wasn’t furious as she looked up at Aaron’s office, and she’d been slightly surprised when she took her up on it. She’d sat at her desk for a few minutes with Jack in her lap and it was enough time for her to be completely charmed by him. Her love for him had grown with her relationship with him, and he was without a doubt one of the most important people in her life. Happiness and joy all rolled up into the smile of a 6-year-old boy who had already survived so much more than he should have. 

Her love for Aaron was different. It had come out of nowhere, hit her like a truck as she stepped into his apartment and found him missing and his blood on the carpet. It was something she’d shoved down, something she’d pretended wasn’t there, and she’d been there for him as his world fell apart around him. There were times when she thought he might feel the same way too, fleeting moments when their eyes would meet and maybe felt as close to definitely as it ever had. Then Doyle happened. Tearing her sense of self apart for a second time, and she was glad there was nothing more between her and Aaron that would have put him in danger. 

Since she came home they’d become closer again, any initial awkwardness gone as quickly as it had appeared, and sometimes she’d find him looking at him like he used to again. She wanted more with him, with him and Jack - to be part of an actual family for the first time in her life - but she wasn’t sure she was enough for them anymore. 

She wasn’t sure if she’d ever get back to the Emily that Aaron may have once loved. 

She’s drawn out of herself when the door to the apartment is torn open, and she looks up to meet Aaron’s eyes. A smile on his face that only seemed to exist in the confines of his home, a soft side of him that belongs to his son that he would let her see too. 

“Hi,” he says, taking the casserole dish from her, “Happy Thanksgiving.”

She chuckles, “Happy Thanksgiving,” she tilts her head at him curiously, “How did you know I was out here? I didn’t knock.” 

He steps back to let her into the apartment, “I saw you standing out here. I knew if I let you think about it any longer you’d leave.” 

She presses her lips together and nods, “Sometimes I worry you know me a little too well.” 

He laughs and puts the mac and cheese down on the kitchen counter, “I don’t think that’s possible,” he smiles over at Jessica who is standing in the kitchen and cooking, “Jess, you remember Emily.” 

Jessica nods, “Happy Thanksgiving, Emily.” 

“Happy Thanksgiving,” she says, “Everything smells amazing.” 

Jack interrupts them before they can say anything else. He runs down the hall from his bedroom, throwing himself into Emily’s arms, “Emmy!”

“Hi Jack,” she says, hugging him close as she kisses his forehead before she pulls back, “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“You too,” he smiles, “I was just showing Grandpa the train set you got me for my birthday.” 

Emily looks up and smiles at a man she’d only seen briefly once before at his daughter’s funeral. She didn’t have to be good at what she did to see the way Roy looks at her, followed by the way he looks at Aaron. Distrust and a hint of anger in his eyes that feels misplaced. It makes her shackles rise, her grip on Jack in her arms tightening as she slips on a mask she’d had for as long as she could remember. One that had grown with her since she was the same age as the little boy in her arms. 

She paints on a smile and adjusts her hold on Jack, holding one hand out to Roy for him to shake, “Nice to meet you, Mr Brooks.” 

He hums and looks down at her hand before he steps past her to get a drink from the kitchen, “You’re Aaron’s friend.” 

She narrows her eyes as he turns his back and then she catches Aaron’s gaze, sees the I told you he hates me shining in his eyes, and she clears her throat, ready to protect the man she loves from anything, even his ex-father-in-law. 

“Yes,” she says, her smile as polite as it could be, “I am.”

___

Dinner is hard work. 

She has to stop herself from interjecting each time Roy says something passive-aggressive, or occasionally downright aggressive, to Aaron. The only things that stop her are the fact that Jack is in the room and that she’s sure Aaron wouldn’t appreciate her inserting herself into complicated family affairs. 

By the time Jessica and Roy leave, she can’t help but wonder how such a horrid man had raised two such wonderful women. It feels unkind, especially when she acknowledges what he has lost, but it sticks in her mind. How he’s so obviously lost in his own grief that he’s taking it out on those around him, specifically Aaron, without acknowledging what he’d lost too. Or that he was the father of his grandson, the absolute hero of his grandson, and that if he carried on down the path he was taking Jack would only grow to resent him for treating his father that way as he gets older. 

She blows out a breath and sinks further into Aaron’s couch, glass of wine in hand, and she smiles at the sound of chattering coming from Jack’s bedroom down the hall. She closes her eyes and imagines a world where this was her life. Where she sat here every evening listening to her Hotchner boys talk to each other, or snuggled between them on the couch every night. 

She opens her eyes when she hears the bedroom door opening and she smiles at Aaron as he walks towards her, “He okay?” 

Aaron nods as he sits down, “He’s okay. Holidays are hard - he misses Haley.” 

“You both do,” she says, smiling softly at him.“It’s okay to miss her even though you weren't together anymore when she died. You’ve known her most of your life,” she reaches out for him, her hand on his arm before she can think about it, “It’s okay to miss her.”

He nods, blowing out a slow breath, chuckling humourlessly as he reaches for his glass of wine on the coffee table, grateful when her hand doesn’t slip away from his arm, her palm warm against his skin “And you say I know you too well.” 

She hums, “I don’t think that’s possible,” she smiles when he does at her repetition of his words earlier that day, “Can I ask you something?” 

“Always.” 

There’s something so honest about the way he says it that it surprises her for a moment, stealing the breath from her lungs as she smiles at him, “Has Roy always been like that with you?” 

“Standoffish?” 

“I was going to go for rude,” she mutters, “But yeah. Has he always been like that?” 

He sighs and sinks back against the couch, a lifetime of memories hitting him all at once as he thinks about the man who had never quite liked him, but never used to hate him like he did now. 

“He was never really a fan of mine,” he answers, turning his head to look at her, “But Haley loved me and he loved her so he…put up with me. Then when we got divorced he stopped pretending.” 

She clenches her jaw, desperate to keep her words back long enough so she can make sure they’re measured. She was used to controlling her feelings for him around him but this felt different, the need to protect him so strong she felt it thumping alongside her heart in his chest. 

“Still, you’re Jack’s dad, and his only parent,” she has a sip of wine, “He should show you the respect you deserve.” 

“To him, this is the respect I deserve. After all, I’m the reason his daughter is dead.” 

He only realises he’s said it outloud when she gasps, an intake of breath that she can’t stop as her eyes go wide. He knows he wouldn’t say it in front of anyone else but she had this way of flaying him open, of tearing him apart at the seams where he’d sewn himself back together, and he could never quite figure out if he liked it or not. 

Being entirely known by someone was a privilege, but it was a vulnerability too, and it had been so long since he’d let someone get this close to him. 

“Aaron…” she chokes out, leaning forward to place her glass of wine down on the table, “You…you don’t believe that do you?” 

“I…” he trails off, placing his glass of wine next to hers before he turns, his knee knocking against hers the first indication he gets of how close she is to him now, “Sometimes.” 

She isn’t sure if she wants to yell at him or hug him. Or both. Fierce protectiveness of him rolling through her again, even though it was him that she wanted to protect him from. She reaches out for him, and she hesitates for a second, her hand frozen in the air, before she cups his cheek and makes him look at her. 

“It isn’t your fault,” she says, her eyes searching his, “The man whose fault it is died. He’s dead. You…you’re the reason your son is alive, and thriving and the happiest kid I’ve ever met.” She says, and he chuckles, the sound thick as it catches in his chest, “And you always joke I’m his favourite person but it’s you, Aaron. You’re his favourite person. He loves you so much.” 

“I know,” he chokes out, leaning into the warmth of her palm against his cheek, trying to commit it all to memory for when it would come to an end, “Usually I can rationalise it. I know it’s not my fault. But...It’s just hard to remember sometimes.” 

“I know,” she replies, smiling sadly when their eyes meet, “Better than most.” 

They sit like that, in their half embrace with her hand against his cheek, staring at each other, and for a moment she thinks about leaning in, about pressing her lips against his and kissing him, but she stops herself. Her bravery snuffed out as quickly as it had ignited, not entirely sure she could take the leap unless she knew he wanted to jump with her too. 

She pulls back abruptly, leaving his cheek cold as her hand slips to her lap and she clears her throat. “I should get going. Thanks for having me.” 

Aaron frowns and stands up at the same time she does, “Em-”

“Sergio will be waiting for me,” she says, cutting him off as she walks towards the front door, “He is grumpy when I don’t-”

“Emily,” he says, firmer this time, stopping her from getting any further away by standing in front of her, “What’s wrong?” 

She shakes her head, “If I have to say it, I’ve misread a lot over the years and I am really bad at my job.” 

He sucks in a breath, and he knows it’s now or never, that if he lets her leave it would be over before it could even start. They were at a crossroads, two paths laid out in front of them, and he knew there was only one that he wanted to walk.

And it was the one where she’d be right by his side. 

He steps forward, making it so there’s no space between them, and he tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. He sucks in a breath at the same time she does, and their eyes meet for a second before he leans in, her lips soft against his. It’s everything and more than they’d both imagined over the years, a moment in time and one that would last forever, drawing out around them like the finest of thread as they moved forward together. Everything they could, and would have, leading back to this one kiss. 

When she pulls back she rests her forehead against his, her lips pressed together before she licks them, chasing the taste of him on her skin, “So,” she says, chuckling breathlessly, “I wasn’t misreading anything.”

He shakes his head and pulls back to look at her, both of his arms wrapped around her to keep her in place, “Em, I…”

She nods and rests her forehead against his again, “I know,” she cups the back of his head, her nails scratching against his scalp, “I know.” 

They stand there, pressed against each other as they breathe each other in, the acknowledgement of everything else there was left to say, and he chuckles and pulls back to look at her, “Would it be cheesy for me to say this is something I’m thankful for?” 

She laughs, the sound wet as it catches on a sob and she nods, making her forehead knock against his, “Yes,” she says, wrapping her arms around his neck and dragging him into a kiss, “But I’ll let it slide this once.” 

She doesn’t have to say that she’s thankful too, because he already knows. 

[r0-boat]

I'm not the same anon who requested for Larry pining after the Treasure Eatery waitress but can I ask for a continuation? Like she purposely is trying to get his attention by wearing makeup & being playful. Since he didn't do anything, she decides to ask him out on a date! She's obviously nervous because he didn't answer. He was shocked that she asked him out but asked if she was sure. She's confused but said yes. Only if he wants to! He accepted which she brightens up! Both of them are giddy about the date! They go on a date after their work is done!

This is extremely cute hold on-

Larry x Treasure Eatery waitress! Reader.

Sfw

Fem!reader

Cw: age gap (older men x younger women)

(Larry date hcs? Or a part 3 of this? Let me know!)

Waitress reader asks Larry out on a date

Never in Larry's life, he would expect this....

Despite your best to make him look your way, your playful advances, and your hard work to make yourself look appealing to him, you still weren't quite sure. Sure, your eyes did meet him for a few moments every now and then when you glanced at his table, but the businessman that you fawned over hadn't made a move.

Your shift was almost over your heart quickened, spending the next minute gathering your courage. You just so happened to catch him as he was leaving the Eatery. With butterflies fluttering in your stomach, you after him. As your coworkers watch from the sidelines, smiles on their faces, silently rooting for you.

Your fingers grazed at the back of his shoulder as you stuttered "U-um, excuse me."

When those deep and dark onyx eyes met yours, you nearly forgot your words. You moved your eyes away from him on impulse. Your lip grew thin, sweat rolling down your forehead as you felt anxiety under his gaze. For a moment, it took everything you had to say it. Hoping and praying that the pain of rejection will be brief.

"I-i've seen you around before and I was wondering... If-um. Would you like to go out some time?"

You mentally kicked yourself for your awkwardness you struggle to meet his eyes Larry's eyes widen yet he doesn't say anything.

He was clenching his teeth. His lungs filled with air. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He never thought that you would come to him. Was this even real? And the way you fidget with your fingers struggling to confess your feelings, made his heart melt.

Your heart sank as he stood there silently. Desperate to save any sort of dignity you have you try to quickly respond, only for his words to cut you off.

"I suppose I'm free right now. Is there any place you would like to go?"

A blunt and Bland reaction but it made your heart swell nonetheless. You would love to take him somewhere right now but you are still on your last break.

" actually can it wait till after work I wouldn't want to take you out in my uniform, haha." You laughed nervously.

Larry personally did not mind the idea of you wearing your cute little uniform a little longer. Though he respects that you would want to go home and perhaps shower and get ready. "alright."

When he gave you a small smile, you felt your cheeks heat up your eyes, avoiding his gaze once again to save yourself from dying of cardiac arrest. "I-i'll meet you here then in about two hours?"

"ok," Larry responds. " two hours. I'll be here." He says while giving you a nod before leaving Treasure Eatery.

You are practically screaming on the inside.You are going to go out on a date with Larry of the Elite Four!!

What should you wear? Where would he want to go? Did he like the way you looked?! Many questions flow through your mind as you carry out the rest of your shift in a daze, wondering if you should go all out and wear something very nice for him.

Despite the chili air, his face felt warm. His eyes grew soft, remembering the shade of your lipstick and those plump lips underneath and that perfume that made his head spin. All he wanted to do was hold you closer. It had been a long time since he dated, and he couldn't help but wonder if young women your age still like to go on walks or visit gardens on dates. Maybe he could even take you to dinner? Larry knows that he has just eaten but wouldn't mind spoiling you at a nice restaurant.

Maybe he should finally wear that nice semi-formal suit that he stashed away for business events.

[apoptoses]

i gotta know, what order do you rank the VCs

oh man I cannot number order them, to do that would be like picking a favorite cat and they change depending on my mood so like I gotta go with the tier system.

ALSO I never promised anyone here that I had taste, these are my own personal feelings etc etc Mostly I have ranked them based on how much I skim when (or if) I re-read lol

The Vampire Armand- Anne put her whole entire vampirussy into this one like this is the book that has everything!!! There's angst, there's smut, there's cults and kidnapping, there's the beauty and high drama of the Venetian renaissance, what more could you want!! And honestly I think her Armand voice is one of her strongest, right up there with Lestat. You could take an Armand quote out of context and know he's the one speaking. Even my least favorite parts of TVA are still more enjoyable than the best parts of the VC books I don't love.

The Devil's Minion Chapter of QotD specifically - absolute insanity, just banger after banger, not a single word wasted. I could have read an entire novel of this, and again, a unique voice and style! I think this part of the book slaps so hard because it's the first truly modern part of the VC, told from a modern perspective and like. It's so good because every VC reader has probably thought 'wow how exciting would it be to be a vampire's companion/lover' and then Anne actually went and wrote what that would be like. Incredible!

The Vampire Lestat - Getting the back story of the characters introduced in interview is incredible and I feel like Anne finally cut loose and let herself start to be a weirdo with all the world building and entangled relationships. Also just worth the re-read for Armand drop kicking Lestat out of Notre Dame and Marius's insane house of taxidermy and baboons.

Interview with the Vampire- a classic, no other details needed.

Tale of the Body Thief- a polarizing choice I know, but it's such a wild diversion from the typical VC books. Lestat described himself as the James Bond of Vampires and this is the one book that's truly like a tightly written action movie. And Lestat is just so monstrous in it, and in a really complex way- like he's partly reacting to the trauma he went through with Akasha, he's at a low point with self esteem, but then also some of this behavior begs the question of whether being a vampire made him the way he is or whether it's just inherent in him. An underrated VC book tbh.

Blood and Gold- I just love that Anne took on the challenge of writing the life story of a vampire that is thousands of years old. Reading it gives me the same feeling of growing up and realizing that the people you considered 'adults' are just as lost and mentally immature and messed up as you, and never really had any idea what they were doing when child-you thought they had it all together. Also I just love anything that gives me more of the events of Armand's life from another pov.

Queen of the Damned- a great story but I get bogged down by the number of characters and plot lines introduced every time I re-read it, and I end up skimming some of the POVs (or skipping them entirely like baby jenks) I know Anne finally put her foot down and told her editors to fuck off with this one but I wish she'd listened to them just a tiiiiny bit and cut some stuff/expanded other more interesting stuff.

Pandora - Such tight writing!! I wish Pandora hadn't been sidelined in the other books because Anne built such a strong character with her, she deserved better tbh!!

Prince Lestat - it's okay, I just like the sections with my favorite characters and seeing some secondary characters return like Bianca and Allessandra and Antoine. Getting some resolution on what happened with them and where they are closer to the modern day was nice. Also the stuff with Fareed giving Lestat hormones so he could fuck and then get Maury Povich'd eighteen years later was hilarious nonsense, 10/10 Anne insanity. This book just feels like fun trashy vampire stuff (affectionate) in the same way watching True Blood feels like fun trashy vampire stuff, so even if it's not Anne's best work it's still alright imo.

Memnoch the Devil - I simply do not care about God or the Devil or Dora or Rembrandt enough to care about this book, and it only gets ranked below Prince Lestat because I think it drags where PL has a faster pace that allows my brain to skim over the least tasty parts. Really it only makes it to D because of Armand in his dusty jean jacket and Lestat using Dora's uterus as his personal capri sun. Overall though just a slog to get through.

Blood Communion - I just personally do not care for the whole vampire court concept and wish Anne had dropped it after the replimoids. Like I tolerate it in Prince Lestat but ending the series on 'united vampire community' feels off to me when the whole concept of vampires is that they're outsiders struggling with immortality. Also, another kidnapping plot? Anne pls you're better than this.

Merrick - I have erased everything but the Louis bits of this book from my mind. We simply did not need Claudia's vengeful spirit or Louis getting force upgraded and the humanity of him erased by Lestat's ultra-powerful blood but we got it anyways I guess. Very atmospheric though, I do like the return to New Orleans as a setting.

Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis - Cruel of Anne to put Atlantis in the title and give us aliens instead of mermaids. The most cracked out VC book in existence, would only re-read if paid to. I have no words for how much I do not care for this book, especially after reading Anne's notes at Tulane and knowing what could have existed instead.

The Vampire Vittorio - such a flop of a vampire he never even gets mentioned in the other VC books. I do not know this man. This book does not exist to me.

[agrazza]

On Darkness Outtake from ch 50

I posted this in the discord already, but I wanted to share here too for those not in it. It is an extra scene from Astarion's POV of Tav's seizure in ch. 50. I wrote it on request of a lovely reader and wanted to share so that anybody not in the discord could also read it, but didn't think it fit the flow of the published work on Ao3, so I'll just keep it here. enjoy! (Scene below the cut)

Astarion was a vampire.

Obviously.

That meant that most of his organs were largely unnecessary. Good for a little fun, some of them, depending on the particular body part, and made his life more pleasant, the more blood he’d had to drink, but largely irrelevant to survival.

However, it certainly didn’t feel like his heart was irrelevant, when Tav suddenly went blank-faced in the middle of his spar with Nyloth, limbs trembling before he crumpled to the ground.

Nyloth was a quick fighter, luckily, and managed not to clip Astarion’s bard on the way down with that dreadfully sharp rapier Tav had given him, skewing it harmlessly away as he finished his thrust against a half-elf who was no longer holding his swords. Astarion wasn’t even fully aware of his own movement, but between one blink and the next, he went from the sidelines of the match to kneeling at Tav’s side, cradling his head.

“Tav! Tavran, are you alright?” But there was no response to his bard, whose features had gone slack and blank, almost frightening on his usually-responsive face. “What’s wrong with him?” Astarion demanded, hearing his voice go odd-sounding with panic.

“He didn’t hit it,” Nyloth was telling him, and Astarion didn’t understand what on Toril the man was trying to tell him, the fingers of his other hand frantically feeling for Tav’s pulse. Fortunately, he was an expert at locating that. It was elevated, but that was all Astarion could tell, and the bard was still breathing.

“What,” he asked Nyloth blankly, panic making him stupid. 

“He didn’t hit his head,” Nyloth rasped, and the drow seemed outrageously calm for having his sparring partner collapse on him.

“Oh.” Astarion was still cupping Tav’s head, he realized, desperate to keep it off the hard stone of the Marble Court, as though it wasn’t entirely too late for that to be of any use. He realized he was also saying the bard’s name, on repeat, like an idiot.

He carefully locked his jaw shut and looked Tav over instead. The bard’s gaze was half-open, but unfocused and unseeing. His limbs were jerking a bit, and he was unsettlingly quiet.

“Istorvir,” he heard Nyloth say.

“Got it,” the other drow answered, already moving away.

“Turn him onto his left side,” Nyloth said, and Astarion figured that was probably better than staring, wide-eyed and useless, so he helped Nyloth turn the bard slightly onto his left. “You can keep your hand under his head, if you want, it will help him not strain his neck,” Nyloth said. “Can you reach his knee, or may I move it?” he asked, and Astarion met his gaze.

Something about Nyloth’s unreasonably calm expression made Astarion able to unhinge his jaw enough to speak again.

“I’ll do it,” he said, and managed to follow Nyloth’s simple instructions to bend Tav’s right knee slightly. “What is all this for?” he asked, hating that he didn’t know, but figuring he’d better learn, in case it happened again.

“It keeps the airways clear, especially if he gets sick,” Nyloth explained. “Normally for if someone’s unconscious, but because he’s not responding…”

Astarion nodded once, sharply, and went back to watching his bard. He pressed his free hand to Tav’s brow, then the back of his neck, trying to discern if he had a fever or anything that would make him delirious. “I didn’t see anything happen,” he managed, and he’d been watching. Tav had been completely fine, trading barbs with Istorvir who’d been heckling both of them from the sidelines and holding his own against Nyloth, and then he suddenly… hadn’t been.

Astarion’s chest ached, though he didn’t know why. It wasn’t as though he needed to breathe.

He wasn’t exactly sure how long he sat there, watching over Tav like that would somehow help his bard come out of his odd swoon faster, before Amalica arrived, slightly out of breath. She spoke with Nyloth briefly, but Istorvir must have caught her up, because she knelt next to Astarion almost immediately.

“Has this even happened before?” she asked Astarion. He had to swallow a few times before he could answer.

“Only after a bad injury,” he said finally, remembering the horrifying evening that had been the wake of the Iron Throne job, or the episode after he’d hit his head in a rock fall. “But he hasn’t gotten hurt lately.” He touched Tav’s hair again, unable to help himself, and hating the way it didn’t immediately cause Tav’s expression to soften with pleasure like it normally did.

Tav stirred, trying to sit up, before Amalica could answer. “It’s alright, let him, he’s probably confused,” Amalica murmured, and Astarion helped the bard into a sitting position. His brow furrowed faintly, more alertness coming into his gaze, but when Astarion spoke to him, cupping his jaw, Tav didn’t response other then to blink blearily.

“I’m going to cast some minor healing magic,” Amalica said. “Just to try to calm any potential swelling.”

“Do it,” Astarion agreed; Tav was in no place to consent, but Astarion would take the blame later, if he must. He gently uncrooked Tav’s knee, now that he was sitting upright, and Amalica grasped her holy symbol and cast.

The magic made Astarion’s skin prickle uncomofortably, but he didn’t care, refusing to put any space between himself and his bard. Tavran didn’t do much more than blink, dazedly staring at them all, eyes flickering around, but when Amalica lifted her symbol to cast again, he put a shaky hand up. “Woah, hold up,” Tav said, like an idiot, and Astarion felt like it might be his turn to hit the ground at the surge of dizzying relief he felt at the return of Tav’s voice.

His chest eased up on the pressure that had caught him in a vise grip, and his dead, useless pulse thrummed slowly once more.

[nocompromise-noregrets]

1, 5, 10, 19, and 20 for the fanfic writer asks please! 💜

wheeee, thank you! <3333333

1. Have you pulled inspiration from media sources other than the property your fic is related to (a plot point from a TV show that has nothing to do with the characters/setting of the fic, a line from a book, etc.)? If so, for which story? Why did you find that media source compelling? I...don't think so? I can't think of anything. I tend to write between the lines of canon, so any references etc generally tend to be to the canon, whatever it happens to be. Although I suppose All I Want Is You-'verse was originally inspired by Christmas movies? I dunno...has anyone spotted anything/can anyone remember anything?

5. Is there a tiny detail in one of your fics that you feel goes tragically unnoticed? I think there probably are, but I can't remember any specific ones (I have over 1.5million words and over 400 fics on AO3 these days which HOW); I do tend to put little details and references in, and they don't often get picked up on in comments, but then I'm not the kind of author who gets lots of comments and asks about all the different aspects of their writing so...I dunno *shrugs* Quite a few, I guess! I kind of feel like it's unfair of me to expect people to have ploughed through all my fics to recognise the little bits and bobs that I'm basically putting in for my own satisfaction.

10. If you could banish a single trope to live at the bottom of the ocean, never to be seen again by any human eyes (or at least your own), which trope would that be? Omegaverse. Absolutely. Gives me the absolute creeps. Also that thing with the insane possessiveness, I can't remember the name of it, but it's just...it makes me feel deeply, deeply uncomfortable. I saw a piece of art for one of my OTPs with that theme once where one character had cut the sinews of the other's heels so he couldn't leave, and I felt unsettled and upset by it for days afterwards. I mean, I tend to feel like most tropes are a bit pointless, I'd much rather write (or indeed read) a story without the hackneyed obligatory set-pieces, but those two are the ones that I really don't like.

19. What was the very first fanwork you ever created? (I’m talking like maybe you made a little book out of construction paper and staples with your favorite Disney characters drawn in it when you were five years old or you drew a comic about a movie you saw when you were a preteen. That sort of thing.) I think it was probably the story I attempted to write inspired by the movie Memphis Belle when I was 15; I grew up in the part of the country where the movie was set, so my utter obsession with it was just that bit deeper, and if internet fandom had been a thing in 1990/1991 I would have been up to my neck in it. (it's also the original source of my deep and abiding soft spot for Sean Astin) I was trying to write a kind of ghost story set in the 1940s and the 1990s, and it was just so far beyond me I couldn't capture it. I was far too young. Maybe I ought to try it again sometime...I am still utterly intrigued by the Eighth Army Air Force, after all. (I couldn't get on with Masters of the Air, I am sorry to say, despite it being full of my beloved B-17 Flying Fortresses...I tried very hard but didn't get beyond about episode three)

20. Is there anything about any one of your fics that you have been dying to discuss but haven’t had the chance to? I am DYING to talk about my TRSB piece! Eight days to go! It features someone with a very strong personality who has been confined to the sidelines of my stories so far (plus some of my very favourite characters to write) and is finally stepping into the spotlight, and once they started talking they just did. not. stop. I had to put my foot down and wrap it up despite, in my own opinion, not having actually really got to the point of the story, or really been able to tackle the plot points that had come up, because I ran out of time. So there will be a sequel that will hopefully pick all of that up, just as soon as I've recovered from the experience (and from Writers' Month, which has been siphoning off a lot of my time and energy from TRSB, although if I hadn't been doing Writers' Month and had been able to finish this fic, it would probably have been pushing 80-100k, which is RIDICULOUS. When this particular character decides to talk, OH BOY do they talk.)

Thank you for asking! <3333333 anyone else fancy asking me some fic writer questions?

[max-is-really-okay]

As someone who grew up very gay in a DEEPLY religious family, Good Omens 2 got everything right, from beginning to end.

Spoilers under the cut

So as I've watched the show, I feel like I've found some pretty good parallels to the life of two older queers with religious trauma coming together.

From where I'm sitting (a borderline homeless queer who had to leave my family because of RAMPANT and DANGEROUS homophobia)

Crowly was disowned by his family for being gay (and probably also for that gender stuff), and has grown up on his own. He knows who he is. He's happy with who he is. You couldn't pay him to go back to his life before he came out because he was miserable. Every bit of joy he had was taken away or ridiculed until he was told God didn't love him anymore. We see snippets where he misses home, but it is clear from the BEGINNING that that's not where he belongs.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, has just been sidelined for his sexuality. As long as he doesn't make too much of a fuss or "make it his whole personality", he'll still be a part of the family. God still loves him. So even if they don't seem to understand him, Aziraphale wholeheartedly believes that his family and god want what's best for him. That God is always right. He loves Crowly, but he's not willing to turn his back on god or his family. No matter how wrong it feels or how much it hurts, Aziraphale, as we saw in the show, will always do what he believes is right.

Crowly probably remembers how it felt to be in Aziraphale's situation, so it makes sense that he'd be willing to wait for so long. What he doesn't understand is Aziraphale's utter devotion to his family and God.

Aziraphale knows that having to go out on his own was hard on Crowly. He's starting to see the cracks in the system and asking the right/wrong questions. What he doesn't understand is why Crowly wouldn't want to go back. Why he wouldn't want to be welcomed back into his family's arms and seen as pure again in the eyes of god.

THAT is why they weren't ready to be together. Crowly saw that a relationship like theirs can exist without anything terrible happening and wants to finally be together, but Aziraphale wants to go back to the place that said that neither of them would ever be good enough. Aziraphale saw the person who had always taken charge in demeaning him step down from power and was offered to make the world a better place with the being he loves by his side. They were both offered their dreams, but neither of them wants what the other does.

Not getting a happy ending sucks. Not getting a happy ending when the strikes aren't ending, so a continuation is not guaranteed, SUCKS. But also, they aren't ready to be together yet. Aziraphale needs to grow to love himself and Crowly needs to learn to care about other people.

@neil-gaiman made a masterpiece with this season.

[leafnyx]

Whumptober Day 21: Body Horror - Kieran Duffy - Part 1

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: Eye horror, implied/referenced torture, cuts, bruises, depictions of gore

Setting: Chapter 4 - Shady Belle

A/n: I have literally no knowledge of medical stuff around the time of rdr so keep that in mind when reading the last few lines of this fic

Kieran can barely register what’s happening anymore. He hears voices around him, shouting? He thinks. But he doesn’t really know. Everything is fuzzy, his hearing especially. He can’t see, he’s tired, even though he’s spent most of his here unconscious.

He doesn’t remember much of the past few days, or weeks, he can’t tell how long he’s been here. The last thing he remembers is Jacks party. He finally let himself relax a bit, for the first time since joining the gang.

He’s always been awkward with parties, preferring to be on the sidelines. Especially in a party held by a bunch of people who hate his guts. But this time he decided to at least attempt to join in the festivities. Shockingly, it didn’t go all that bad. He drank some and actually managed to talk to some of the gang members.

He remembers talking the most with Sean. Although the man had been one of the first to throw insults at Kieran once he had been brought back to camp, Sean doesn’t seem to mind Kieran all that much.

But the good faith of the night had been destroyed for Kieran when he went out to the forest to take a piss. He hadn’t gone to far off from camp but a group of O’Driscolls found him and knocked him out.

They’ve been messing with Kieran the past few days. He knows they’ve beat him a shit ton, and they even stabbed his eye, with a needle he thinks. That’s about the only thing he can clearly remember.

It hurt like shit and he felt the eye itself slowly deflate. He can still feel the leftover liquid, which is already half-dry and sticky, on his cheek. He’s in so much pain, everywhere. He feels hot and cold at the same time.

The shouting and bangs get louder and closer. Kieran would be scared, but he has nothing left in him to fear, he’s fully out of it. Suddenly, the door of the cabin, room? Whatever it is, shoots open.

He hopes it’s the Van Der Linde’s coming to save him, but he doesn’t hope too hard because he doesn’t think any of them care enough to come for him.

He hears muffled words around him and sees blurred faces walking towards him but Kieran passes out before he’s able to tell who’s they are.

-

“Jesus Christ…” Arthur mumbles, being the first to step into the cabin Kieran is being kept in.

He sees the scrawny man on a chair, leaning forward since he’s not able to keep his body upright anymore. Kieran is covered in cuts and bruises on the skin that is visible and Arthur can’t even imagine what is under his clothes. The worst part, that makes Arthur grimace and look away, is one of Kieran’s eyes that is deflated in its socket, covered in blood and what seems like puss, or whatever liquid, streaming down from it.

Bill enters the room soon after, being the second to see Kieran’s body.

“Fuck.. is he alive?” He says, in an unusual tone, seemingly worried about Kieran.

“Dunno, haven’t checked yet,” Arthur replies, walking over to Kieran’s limp body and grabbing his wrist. “Barely, we need to get him to camp. Quick.”

Arthur begins to undo the ropes binding Kieran to the chair, Bill quickly scurrying over to help him.

Arthur picks Kieran up, not needing Bill to help because of how light the younger man is, and walks out of the cabin.

Charles, the only other man willing to join them in getting Kieran, is standing by his horse Taima and Branwen who he found off to the side. When he spots the two holding Kieran he moves towards them.

“They got him good huh.” Charles says, commenting on the body.

“You think he said anything?” Arthur asks.

“Doubt it, he didn’t seem to care much for the O’Driscolls.” Charles replies.

Bill stays quiet, watching Kieran intently as Arthur places him on the front of his horse, getting on behind so he can hold the man upright so he doesn’t fall off.

Bill and Charles mount their own horses, the latter leading Branwen along behind him, and the group begins their short ride back to camp.

The ride is quiet, it has an almost sad aura. They had begun warming up to Kieran the past few weeks, so it was hard seeing him like this.

As they make it to the front of camp, people begin noticing them. They hitch up their horses and Arthur gets off his own, holding Kieran.

“Mrs. Grimshaw!” He yells out. “We need help, he’s boutta die!”

“Holy hell, they fucked him up bad” Sean exclaims as he looks at the body.

Sadie quietly watches everything go down, feeling a bit bad for Kieran now that they’ve both gone through things due to the O’Driscolls.

“Well looks who’s back!” Dutch says, walking towards the group. “The O’Driscoll, went scurrying back to his own.”

“Dutch” Arthur says, wearily.

“Looks like they don’t want him no more, I bet he talked all about us.”

“Dutch. Lay off on him”

“Once an O’Driscoll, always an O’Driscoll , don’t tell me you’ve softened up on him Arthur.”

Arthur doesn’t reply, walking to his tent still carrying Kieran, followed by Mrs. Grimshaw and Reverend Swanson.

Arthur places Kieran on his cot, Grimshaw closing the tent flap behind them for some sort of privacy.

Reverend prays over the body quietly, clearly horrified by the sight of it.

Reverend and Grimshaw quickly get to work trying to keep Kieran alive while Arthur stands off to the side silently watching.

They take the top layer of his clothes off, assessing the damages, bruises littering Kieran’s body, along with cuts, some deeper like one across his side, and some just scratches.

Deeming the eye injury the most important problem for now, they get to trying to fix that.

Mrs. Grimshaw pours gin on her hand and begins moving to Kieran’s eye socket to get the deflated eye out. As she touches it Kieran wakes up, screaming.

“Jesus Christ! Arthur! Hold him down!” Mrs. Grimshaw exclaims as Arthur rushes over to hold Kieran down to the cot.

Revered quickly moves to get morphine, injecting Kieran with it who passes out again, quickly.

The rest of the procedure goes well enough, Kieran now lying on cot, still unconscious, with almost all of his body bandaged up.

“He might not make it” Reverend says to Arthur and Mrs. Grimshaw who are still in the tent, just having finished.

“We’ll make sure he does, he’s useful around camp” Grimshaw replies, trying to not show too much care for Kieran.