#i walk away like ‘this is my exact lived experience’

[sanctfy]

crazy how every cult ever is actually exactly the same inside

[romanticintheory]

HI I JUST READ YOUR "SIMON BETRAY YOU" AND YOU KNOW WHATTTT IT HURTS SOO GOOD OMG THANKS FOR MAKING THATT SJWISHWBSHSJSBWJSBWBS

...

and.. maybe can you write for a part two? pleaseee🥺

HIII TYSM IM SO GLAD YOU ENJOYED!!! here's a pt 2! i am very sick at the moment, though, so this might be a bunch of gibberish (i sincerely apologize if so). hope you like it <3

simon riley betrays you pt. 2

simon "ghost" riley x reader || pt. 1 || masterlist

☆ ☆ ☆

-miraculously, they let you go.

-you half expected someone to drag you out of the car with the barrel of a gun pressed against your temple with the intent to fire, but no. after a few excruciatingly long hours alone with your arms and legs bound, someone new came to cut your ties and let you loose.

-maybe they were just bad at their job, you thought. after all, why would they let you, essentially a witness, go free without any repercussions?

-a few years pass. you try to move on, but its impossible when your entire world was shattered in one night.

-you never heard back from your father since then, but that wasn't the thing that hurt the most. you couldn't go a single day without thinking about the sting of betrayal. any happy moment you had was spent comparing the time you felt that same feeling with him, before anything in the world was wrong to you.

-what's worse, there was something telling you that you shouldn't tell anyone about it even if you wanted to. a voice in your head kept telling you that maybe, maybe they're keeping you on a leash. maybe someone was watching you at this very moment ready to take you out the moment you spilled your experiences.

-in a way, your fears are confirmed when you meet simon again miles away from the last place you lived. you had moved for this exact reason; you never wanted to see his face for as long as you lived.

-it happens when you're walking alone in the street. you moved to this area specifically because you heard it was quieter and, more importantly, safer. but how much of that could you escape, really?

-your attacker approaches you as you're making your walk home from work, a kind of confidence on his face that makes the common individual want to roll their eyes.

-"what's a sweet thing like you doing out alone at night, huh?" he asks, his footsteps staggered like he's had one too many drinks.

-you give him the usual speel of, "oh, my friends are waiting for me... yeah, i've got a boyfriend. haha, i'm okay, no need to accompany me, thanks."

-your soft attempts at rejection only seem to agitate him, because next thing you know he's stepping toward you and putting a hand on your arm with a bone-crushing grip.

-"c'mon jus' let me-"

-his voice is cut off by the sound of a loud thud and the stranger's yelp of pain. it takes you a second, but you realize the defense on your behalf came from beside you.

-oh, thank god.

-you and your now injured attacker now adjust your gazes to sit on the silent newcomer. just like that, your settled sense of dread has come back and increased tenfold.

-there he was, with that stupid mask over his face and his hands curled into fists for preparation of what he was going to do next if the man didn't scurry off.

-"you'll leave," he says darkly under subtle pants, as if he ran before coming to your rescue. "if you know what's good for you."

-the stranger wastes no time in running off into the night, leaving you with your worst nightmare.

-for a while, you both stare at each other like you can't believe the other is real. it takes everything in you not to cry or beg him for answers. no, after everything you worked for, you're not going to throw away everything you built in the past few years to recover from him just to throw it all away now... right?

-"why are you here?" you ask coldly. "come to finish the job?"

-although your eyes were icy and your questions came with a rigid tone, there was genuine fear in your question. what if the soldier that untied you wasn't supposed to? what if you were supposed to be dead all those years ago?

-"no. never."

-even though he knows the reason why, his heart still hurts at the thought of you believing he'd just up and kill you like that.

-"really? that's rich," you scoff, except you're terrible at hiding the tremble in your breath and the tremors traveling through your body.

-spotting your growing fear, he scrambles for something, anything, to make you fear him less.

-"i was worried, that's all. after that night," he pauses, eventually deciding to skip the details of what he did to your father. "i didn't know where you went. thought i could just get over it, but i guess i just knew i needed to check in on you just in case."

-you resist the urge to roll you eyes. "right. you're back again to 'check in on me'? to come back and meddle in my life again?" you're struggling to keep your tears back as they form in your eyes. "you've already taken so much. how selfish can you be?"

-he stares at you for a moment before slipping his hand into his pocket and taking out a gold watch that belonged to your dad.

-"i'm sorry about your father, but you have to understand that he-"

-"not that, simon. it was never that," you push his hand away and the offer that came with it. his eyes became confused. "i mean you. it's always been you. you just come into my life telling me you love me, that you want to be with me so much and then just take that all away? and you never even bothered to tell me it was a lie, just let me get tied up by some stranger to be left alone and scared!"

-there's a new look in simon's eyes at your words, but it's hard to decipher them from behind the mask.

-"it wasn't a lie," he says slowly, lowering the hand with the watch in it back to his side.

-"oh, please." the trembling has not died down in the slightest. "i bet you're still mad that worker of yours took pity on me and let me leave before you could do anything about it. like i said, back to finish the job."

-your eyes are now trained on the ground. there was a conflicted feeling in your body at the moment. on one hand, this was the man that let you get tied up and left in a car while he "handled" your father. on the other, this was the man you loved. the one who was kind to your ever desire, who always understood you in ways you never knew possible.

-"i told them to let you go," he finally manages.

-"what?"

"i..." he hesitates. "i told my captain that if i was going to give them your father's location, they were to let you go no questions asked when the whole ordeal was over with." and it was true. he hated even imagining poor you, being interrogated by his colleagues in an isolated, barren room. you had been through enough.

-and even if you had been a part of your father's scheme, there was a part of simon that loved you too much to care (though he'd never admit it to himself).

-it was a good thing price trusted his judgment. he didn't know what he would've done had he said no.

-the tears are now streaming down your face and you can do nothing to stop it. it all felt like so much. you were so, so confused. if he did love you, why did you feel this way? how much of this could you trust?

-cautiously, he goes to wipe the tears away from your face, murmuring a quiet, "hate it when you cry." for a second, it was a familiar feeling. you felt like you were back in your shared flat with simon while having a breakdown over life's struggles. in moments like those, you never would have expectated that life's struggles could take the form of simon himself.

-you can't help but lean into his touch. maybe you were insane for allowing him to touch you like this, but you wanted nothing more than to let him into your life again. the resolve you worked so hard to build was crumbling away the longer you spent with him.

-"the reason it took so long for me to find you..." he's holding your face in his hands, now. "for so long, i thought i ought to leave you alone. i know i should. i wasn't lying about when i said i was worried if you were still alive, but," he swallows the lump in his throat before continuing. "i also miss you. 'nd i know, 's incredibly selfish of me after everything i've done to you, but i can't help it."

-one of his hands leaves your face to slide the mask and balaclava off his face. there he was again, his aged brown eyes and soft jawline, the sides of his face littered with small scars you still remember to this day.

-"i'll make it up to you," he whispers. "anything you ask, i'll answer. about my past, your father, anything. you ask me to get you something, i'll have it for you wrapped all nice 'nd pretty. hell, i'll get on my knees and pray to you if you order me to, love."

-it was like your nightmare turned into a fantasy, having him here begging for your forgiveness.

-"anything you want, i want to give to you. jus' let me be a little selfish, too."

-you bite your lip as you think it over. you know the correct answer would be a clear, hard no, but you can't bring yourself to do it. not after all those nights wishing he was encasing you in his arms again, whispering all the things he adored about you as you drifted off into sleep.

-as much as you shouldn't be believing him, you do.

-"...anything?" you ask hesitantly, and it takes everything in simon not to pull you in close and never let go.

-again. no, he needs to be sure he won't scare you off again.

-"anything," he promises, fingertips tracing the edge of your jawline.

-"okay," you agree, the tears finally having stopped flowing. happiness does not even begin to describe what simon was feeling. "for starters, you can walk me home."

-with the watch long forgotten and broken on the edge of the sidewalk, he holds your face for a bit longer before letting go. eventually, he offers his arm to you and you take it.

-there's a part of him that mourns the years lost that he could've had with you. maybe, if he came to you sooner, he wouldn't have to be so careful about being around you, now. but, no, these were the consequences of his actions.

-at the very least, you were still giving him a second chance, and he was intent on not fucking it up this time.

[sleepysturn]

1 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖺𝗋𝗒 - 𝖼.𝗌. ౨ৎ

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁

in which it’s your and chris’s one year anniversary and chris makes a special instagram post for her.

TW: none! maybe cursing if you think that’s a TW

a/n: hey pretty people!! i’m really excited to write this! i hope you enjoy this!! please leave requests and look at my masterlist to see if you want anything to be posted! love youuuu! ౨ৎ

notes: (when speaking: chris | y/n )

🏷️: @luv-sturno @luvr4miya @miss-delicious

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁

flashback

chris and y/n have been best friends their entire lives. y/n had bad experiences with men before this.

one night y/n walks into chris’s room with tears.

“what’s wrong, sweetheart”

chris said with a frown.

“he cheated on me.. he’s had another relationship with a different girl the entire time.”

she said in tears.

“oh y/n.. c’mere.”

she walked over to his bed and sat down next to him. he put her into his arms to comfort her.

“why am i unlovable..”

“you’re not.. men just suck. no i take that back. boys suck. a real man wouldn’t treat you like that.”

“but this is the second time i’ve been cheated on. and that was my second relationship.”

she cried into his shoulder.

“you’ll find someone i promise.”

“i’m never dating anyone ever again..”

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

a month after that, chris has spent all of his free time with y/n to make her feel loved and safe. she needed it and chris wanted to be with her.

chris and y/n have both developed feeling for each other over the time.

chris took y/n to the spot they have been going to since they were around 16.

that’s where he asked her to be his girlfriend.

y/n was hesitant about it due to her past relationships, but she knew chris was a good person. he was the man, not boy, she needed.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

5:49PM they aren’t together

chris and y/n were going to be together for exactly one year tomorrow at 7:32PM.

after y/n said yes, he was sure to look at the date and even the time to make sure when this time came, he could make the perfect post on instagram.

before chris went to y/ns house, he got the post set up and set an alarm on his phone.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

chris arrived at y/ns apartment.

y/n buzzed him in and waited at the door for him to walk in. she was really excited to see him. this has been the only real relationship she has been in and she really loved chris.

chris opened the door and received a tight hug the minute he walked in.

he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her head.

they eventually pulled away and chris handed her a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

y/n smiled and took them.

“awww chris.. i never knew you were such a romantic.”

she said in a slight teasing tone.

neither chris nor y/n were very romantic, they were just happy to spend time together and been themselves.

“yeah but this day is important. we have to be a least a little romantic.”

he said smiling at her.

“also.. happy almost one year, ma.”

“almost?”

she looked at in confusion.

“well whenever you said yes i looked at the time so i would know the exact time when this day came.”

she smiled at him and looked down.

“and what time was that?”

“exactly 7:32PM”

“aww chris i love you..”

she hugged him tightly once again nuzzling her head in the crock of his neck.

“i love you more baby..”

he kissed the top of her head once again.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

the time came and chris pulled out his phone.

*christophersturniolo posted for the first time in a while*

“go look at what i posted”

chris said excitedly.

i grabbed my phone curiously and opened instagram.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

liked by matthew.sturniolo, nicolassturniolo, and liked by 412k others

christophersturniolo happy 1 year to my amazing, beautiful, hot, sexy, gorgeous, pretty, funny, perfect girlfriend (wife). you are truly the best thing that has ever happened to me. i am so proud to be able to call you mine. i can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. thank you for putting up with all my bullshit and thank you for always being there for me. i don’t know what i would do without you. you’ve helped me through everything since day 1. i can’t wait for more years to come. i love you so so fucking much. 🩷

matthew.sturniolo this is the cutest shit i’ve ever seen. congrats you guys🤍

nicolassturniolo if you don’t get married and have 278293916 kids, i’ll end my life.

y/n.y/l/n i love you so much chris. happy one year baby☹️🩷

christophersturniolo i love you more mama🩷

user529716793753 i want and NEED this

sturnioloeats THIS IS SO CUTE

hater5178 they won’t last😂

nicolassturniolo you won’t last in these comments 😂 *block cutely*

fan5289 NICK ATEEE

fan9290 jealous jealous jealous giiirll

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

y/n looked up from her phone in tears and looked over at chris.

“what’s wrong baby..”

“i love you so much. i don’t deserve you”

“you deserve everything”

chris leans in and kisses her.

“i love you baby. happy one year..”

“i love you more. happy one year.”

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ౨ৎ ˖ ݁

[pedge-page]

Imagine baby Sarah angry with Joel for not giving into her asks and wants like idk candy maybe and sides with reader going behind Joel’s back to ask the exact same thing and then in the middle of the day Joel questions how Sarah got a lollipop and reader says that Sarah told her that Joel said yes but to ask reader as well and they then connect the dots to discover that they’ve been played

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: Sarah's Bargain

Notes: I’ve derailed from this prompt a little because Sarah’s gotta outsmart all of the adults in the room.

- - - -

Sarah and Joel are walking through the gas station mart when she spots the colorful rack of assorted candy. 

"Daddy, can I have one ring pop?"

"No," he responds plainly, counting the twinkies in his hand and figuring out how many he can get before you yell at him.

"Why not."

He grabs two bottles of Pepsi in one hand before heading over to the check out counter. “Because I said so."

She grumbles and follows close behind him. "If I clean my room--"

"You can't bargain with me. I'm not mom. My answer is no."

She thinks about it for a moment. Then smiles. "Ok Daddy, I understand."

Joel is surprised she acquiesced so quickly. She seems to have gotten over the tantrum phase. Maybe he's doing a pretty good job at this parenting thing after all. 

- 

Later on, you take Sarah along with you to go grocery shopping. "Mom.”

"Yes bubba."

"Dad said if I cleaned my room, I could have a ring pop."

You pause, surveying the special deal for pepsi cans. Despite Joel telling you about the suspicious amount of pepsi that’s been disappearing from his stock, you hadn’t touched any. In fact, you had your own stock that you suspect he’s found out and been stealing from. 

“What?”

“A ring pop,” she repeats. “Dad said if if cleaned my room, I could have one.”

 Thats very uncharacteristic of him to bargain with Sarah.

"He did? So what are you coming to me for?"

"Well he said ONLY if you agreed. Said it was OK but to ask mom first to be sure."

Fuck, making me do the hard decision. Joels always the favorite, and if you say no now, then it’s going to make you the mean mom for no reason. You did see she cleaned her room without being told...

You grab the pepsi case, hoping Joel won't scold you for your own hoarders pile.  

You see the innocent batting of her eyes just as you look over to the candy aisle. “Well if Dad said yes..." 

-

Sarah and Joel are sitting at the table as he unwraps his secret stash of pepsi and Twinkie’s away from you. 

"I asked mom for a ring pop and she said yes,” she mentions while coloring her book.

Joel freezes with half the cream custard in his mouth. “I said—“ 

"Its ok! I told her since you had said no, that she didn't need to get me one. I just wanted to see if she would..."

"You trying to set me up against mom?"

"No..." she adds quickly. "I just... thought it would be an interesting experiment.” She smiles softly, before turning to a very mature, saddened tone. “But then I realized it was wrong and I should have listened to you in the first place. So I didn’t take it because I know you said no."

He thinks about it for a moment. Now you’re going to come to him lecturing about why Sarah doesn't get things when she CLEARLY has a good sense of responsibility, going as far to say no to something she clearly wants just to respect him. She's also smart to test both of you, and even when she could have had it, she still refused. 

“Alright. Just cuz I'm proud of ya.” He dusts the power from his fingers and fishes for his wallet. “You’re a smart kid. But I don't want you testing your mom n’ me for the same answer.  And I don't want to get in trouble with her. I'll get you one. Just this once ok?"

She nods solemnly and crosses her heart. “I won’t say anything.”

-

The next day, you hear Joel and Sarah coming in from the garage and you quickly stash your pepsi behind the potted plant. Your daughter gives you a fat kiss on the cheek before running to the living room and turning on the tv.

You and Joel sit at the table. “I saw the can by the way.” He remarks.

You grunt, pulling the aluminum from its hiding spot and proudly sipping it before crinkling it in your hand. “Well I haven’t been stealing from you. I …have my own stash.”

Joel gasps, offended and surprised by your double standards. “And you yell at me n’ my Twinkies!”

"There better not be any f-ing twinkies in this house Joel Miller," you point at him threateningly.

"Nope none Nada. Haven't seen any." he slowly tucks the new plastic back full of them under his legs.

"The two of you talk about Sarah having cleaned her room without being told. 

"Yeah, I ended up getting her the ring pop,” he tells you.

You furrow your brows.

“?… but, I got her the ring pop. She said you told her I would get if it I also approved? I didn’t want to be the mean mom!"

Fuck, Joel knows you get too worked up on trying to be too nice and cater to Sarah... "What? I told her no first. I never said it was up to you. Then she said she asked you and you said yes, but she refused yours, so I got her it instead for being responsible. I told you to stop worrying about being the nice mom!”

You also know Joel's a sucker for marveling Sarah's experimental mind and working on being responsible over getting what she wants. "She did NOT refuse my offer. what are you talking about?"

Tommy comes in moments later, and waves to the two of you through the open door. Sarah runs up to him near the doorway, and he greets her first suspiciously. They do a funky little hand shake, and you catch a glimpse of something silver going into his palm before she retreats to the living room 

"What are you doing here?" Joel asks.

Tommy shrugs. "Uh nothin’ just.."

"Did you just slip her a ring pop??" You ask incredulously. 

He huffs a guilty sigh. "Sarah asked for a ring pop because you guys told her no, so I went to pick one up at the store as long as she didn’t tell either you...."

Fuck. You and Jole BOTH know Tommy's complex about wanting to be Sarah's favorite uncle (despite the fact you keep reminding him he's her  ONLY uncle and he has no competition).

Above all else, Sarah knows these weakness about each of you. You all look over to her as she unwrap a third ring pop, putting all of them on her one hand and switching back and forth sucking on them. There's an open Pepsi can clutched in her other tiny palm that she sips from, with an exceedingly satisfied grin on her face.

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop

[mrs-snape5984]

“There is a light and it never goes out…”

“Take me out tonight. Oh, take me anywhere, I don't care, I don’t care, I don’t care…” (“There’s a light that never goes out” by The Smiths)

Overstimulation. Disorientation. Light sensitivity. Chronic pain. Fatigue. These are only a few of those symptoms, which are torturing me day in and day out for the past two years, already. Due to them, caused by a disease, that is called “Myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome” (ME/CFS), I’m currently forced to live a life within the strict confines of my dark and silent room, mostly enduring my daily existence in solitude.

I miss being a part of this world….and fuck, I miss being a part of other people’s lives! Living like this makes me feel like an old piece of furniture, which has been stored away in a hidden chamber…not worthy enough to be used or seen by anyone, and yet still not bad enough to be discarded.

Some months ago, two wonderful people started taking me out to see their worlds by sending me pictures and videos of the places, they’re heading to. Thanks to them, I’m allowed to get a glimpse of places, I’ve always dreamed of being able to explore them on my own.

Furthermore, something else became apparent whenever one of these precious gems of human nature took me with them: I wasn’t just carried around in their phones, but they carried me in their hearts. This realisation blew my mind! It’s not only me, who’s clinging to them as if they’re my lifelines…no, this little German mess, that I am, became important to these people, too! Words can’t express how grateful I am for our connections…and that I was also lucky enough to find true love in this bond (I love you, R. 🖤).

One of those amazing people is my beloved sister in Christ @vulnus-sanare, who will soon come to visit me in my small world. Finally, I’ll be the one, who can show her the beauty of the tiniest things in my environment…always surrounded by the securing gloominess of the nights. Magda, my heart, I’m going to introduce you to the stars above my town, to the soothing sounds of the Moselle River right next to my house and I hope, we will manage to experience the mesmerising dance of the bats in the vineyards, if we take my wheelchair with us. I can’t wait to have you here and pull you into the tightest of all embraces, sweetie!

I’ve commissioned my dear friend @snake-queen7 to create this breathtaking piece of art of Severus and my undeniably self-inserted OC Jules on a nocturnal walk through the vineyards behind my house. Before I caught ME/CFS, I used to enjoy these nightly strolls in order to watch the bats with my children, so I sent her a photo of the exact spot, I want to share with Magda. Since it was Severus and Snapedom, which brought us together, it’s only fair to bring our beloved dungeon bat to this special place as well.

My friend, I’m more than happy with the outcome of your artwork and it’s a pleasure to share it with all those lovely people of our Snapedom. Please take my apologies for taking so long to write this post, but I wanted to honour your work the way, it deserves to be honoured. For this reason, I had to wait patiently for a moment, when my brain wouldn’t refuse me to do its job (brain fog is such a pain in the ass!). Thank you for everything, Natalia! 🥹

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

taedros taedros

part two: taedros twodros ☆ part three: taedros tresdros**NEW wc: 2k reader: femme afab warnings: MINORS DNI EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ -- porn with plot, oral f!receiving, swearing, calling tae a virgin loser as a joke, mentioning the weeknd LMAO summary: loserbestfriend!taerae makes you watch the idol on hbo max with him for movie night, but a certain convertible scene sparks your "curiosity" more than the others... and taerae proves he might not be such a loser after all. :0 omg who am i?? i even wrote in all lower case letters in the fic to throw you off... i know you'll know right away though but that's not the point lmao!! i just didn't think i should be this horny for taerae on main so. here's the dedicated zb1 smut blog no one was asking for (except me. i was asking for it so let me live.) thank you to taerae for posting these pics next to each other and ruining my life. also the idol sucks and sam levinson and the weeknd are horrific for creating it. i only know some scenes from it because i watch comedy commentary videos about it. jennie is beautiful tho love her. ALSO i thought of this title and i cried laughing. mwahaha okay thanks for reading byeeeee

“this is the worst show I’ve ever seen in my life,” you say with a laugh, throwing a piece of popcorn in your mouth. “i can’t believe we’ve made it through two episodes already.”

🚨 SMUT BELOW CUT -- MINORS DNI -- 18+ 🚨

taerae sighs, “i think i’m gonna need to bleach my eyes.”

“throw some in my ears while you’re at it,” you joke, letting a leg drape over your best friend’s. you’re crammed together in the bottom bunk of his dorm room bed, watching the idol on the tv that’s hung at the foot of it. “i will never, ever be able to unhear the weeknd whispering, ‘stretch that tiny little pussy for me’. and every single day i will beg the lord for mercy.”

“are we sure we wanna watch the third episode?” taerae asks, shifting a bit next to you. “this show is so graphic.”

“of course the virgin wants to chicken out,” you tease, smacking his stomach with a pillow. he grabs it from you and leaves it there. “you’re the one who wanted to watch it! now you wanna quit two episodes in? not gonna happen. we can make it through this.”

if you hadn’t pressed play at that exact moment, you would’ve heard taerae gulp beside you. 

the intro of the show plays, assaulting your eyes with an up-close and personal view of jocelyn’s bare chest. what else is new? you yawn, hoping the third episode’s graphic scenes (at the very least) won’t be repetitive. bitch has put on a blindfold to end both episodes so far...

sitting with your back leaning against the wall, you try to steal a glance at taerae. his upper back is propped up on his pillow as he lies perpendicular to you, facing the tv screen. you watch his eyes, catching the subtle dilation of his pupils. it could be the light from the television in the otherwise dark room shifting their size, but you find yourself curious nonetheless.

“do you think she’s pretty?” you ask suddenly.

taerae coughs. “me? do i think the actress is pretty?”

you nod, eyes returning to the screen in hopes that the lack of eye contact will make taerae feel comfortable enough to give you an answer.

“she’s pretty, yeah,” he says after a moment. 

“like, you’re attracted to her?” you clarify, throwing another piece of popcorn into your mouth.

“uh,” he hesitates and you feel his legs tense up under yours. “i guess. i mean she’s not really my type, but--.”

“but you like her tits.”

“exactly,” taerae agrees too quickly. “wait, no--.”

“no need to walk it back,” you cut him off with a snort. “boobs are hot. end of story.”

taerae sits up a bit more, seemingly trying to relax after your probing. you didn’t talk to taerae about sex or girls all that much, but you’d be lying if you said the show hadn’t suddenly made you a bit curious. what experience did your lovable loser of a best friend have-- if any at all?

the interrogatory questions you’re suddenly wanting to ask are thrown from your brain, however, as the show now cuts to a shot of the weeknd (you and taerae refuse to call him tedros tedros) and jocelyn in the back of a convertible-- their poor assistant driving these two insufferable cretins down the freeway.

nothing’s out of the ordinary until jocelyn crawls from her seat and lifts one leg to straddle the weeknd. she’s in a slinky tangerine bodysuit and little black shorts and the weeknd’s hands easily envelope her waist. you roll your eyes, already having grown so sick of these two. 

but when jocelyn is suddenly pushed to the edge of the seat, her back against the car door and her head resting on the frame-- your attention is piqued. the weeknd wraps his hands around her thighs, prying them apart so he can pull her shorts to the side just enough to fit his tongue. the actress’s head lolls back over the car door frame; her blonde hair dangling over the side and flowing in the wind. her face is screwed up in absolute bliss and the sounds coming out of her confirm her state.

would she really be screaming like that just from his tongue?

“um,” you hear taerae say and you look over at him curiously. “if-- if he’s good with it, then yeah. she would be, i guess.”

you frown. what was he talking about? if he’s good with what? ... oh fuck, you think as you realize that you’d accidentally said your previous thought out loud. and now poor taerae is stumbling to give you an answer.

what did he say? if he’s good with it then she would be.

“huh,” you mumble, your brow furrowing as you ponder his answer.

you turn back to the tv, but taerae clears his throat. “what?”

“what? what do you mean, what?”

“why did you say ‘huh’ like that?” he asks, the pillow on his stomach rustling as he shifts slightly. “do you not agree or something?”

“oh, uh,” you stutter as you feel your cheeks start to heat, not sure what to say. “um, i guess i wouldn’t know.”

the silence from taerae is deafening as your eyes stay locked on the tv. you’re not sure why you said that. you could’ve just lied. you should’ve just lied.

“are you a virgin?” taerae asks softly. the accusation whips your head around to stare at him angrily and his eyes widen cautiously.

“obviously not,” you answer in a huff. “i just... i’ve never...”

you look down at your lap, picking at the skin on your fingers. you should stop while you can. you don’t need to tell the truth. why are you even considering telling him this?

“no one’s ever gone down on me or anything.”

“oh,” taerae manages to respond after a long moment, but you can’t even look at him.

“yeah.”

another moment of silence. “you shouldn’t be, like, embarrassed by that. that’s... that’s entirely their fault for not prioritizing you, you know?”

your bottom lip tucks between your teeth, the aforementioned embarrassment flushing your skin as you nod. the show is still playing, but you can only hear garbled sounds. why did you tell him that!? now taerae has to awkwardly comfort you when you could’ve just shut your mouth in the first place. you didn’t really talk about these kinds of things with taerae. your best friend was there for movie nights, chinese food binges, laughing until you cry, and most importantly taking the absolute piss out of... 

and here you were making him uncomfortable by randomly talking about your oral virginity.

“would you want me to do it?”

taerae’s voice is so quiet that you’re positive for a moment that you hallucinated it. you look over at your best friend tentatively to find his knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping his pillow to his stomach. 

“what?”

taerae blinks nervously. “if you wanted to, you know, try it... i could--.”

“WHAT!?” you shout; hands grabbing the pillow on taerae’s stomach and throwing it across the room. “are you-- are you fucking joking!? you think i’m desperate enough to ask my best friend to eat me out?”

“no, no, no,” taerae respond quickly, hands flying up in defense. “not at all!”

“then what?” you ask, jaw setting in anger as you wait for a good enough answer to keep you from punching him in the balls.

taerae’s lips form the slightest pout. “you seemed really curious about it. i just... i just thought i’d offer.”

you bite your lip as you think. “what do you even know about that kind of thing? I thought you were a virgin loser.”

“ouch,” taerae says but quickly shrugs it off. “i guess you’re only right about half of that statement.”

you frown. even though you’d never talked about it before, was taerae secretly experienced? more experienced than you?

“you don’t have to say yes though,” he adds quickly. “i’m sorry; i probably shouldn’t have said any--.”

“okay,” you cut him off softly.

taerae’s eyes widen in surprise. “okay?”

you nod slowly. “i don’t believe you that you’re not a virgin loser, but if you’re offering...”

taerae sits up, leaning on his hands as a little smirk lights up his face. “i’ll eat you out and then you can eat those words. how does that sound?”

the way your heat flutters at his words catches you off guard. so does the way he swiftly flips you onto your back as you take the position he was just in.

“whoah,” you exhale, your best friend absolutely knocking the wind out of you as he positions himself between your thighs. he takes the hem of your shorts in his fingers, eyebrows raising at you expectantly. you lift up your hips enough for him to shimmy them off, discarding them on the floor without taking his eyes off your still-clothed center.

you glance at your underwear, panic immediately hitting you when you realize you wore the only clean pair that you had left...

a black, lace thong.

they were the only pair left, because you honestly hadn’t had a reason to wear them in a little while.

“fuck,” taerae curses, hands wrapped around the outsides of your thighs. “were you going somewhere after this or...?”

“if you don’t shut your mouth, i’ll be going somewhere before this,” you threaten, but the words come out shakier than you would’ve liked as taerae begins to plant open-mouthed kisses up your thighs. “... ‘s laundry day tomorrow.”

“mm, I see,” he replies, shifting his weight to one hand so he can bring his right hand to your heat. your heart rate rises as he moves towards where you’re quickly growing to need his attention most. two fingers press at your clothed-core gently and the sound of the tv in the background does nothing to dampen the moan that escapes you from just the small amount of pressure.

“laundry day’s coming just in time i think,” taerae says, a smirk highlighting his cavernous dimples in a light you’ve never seen before. “from the way you’re soaking through these.”

“shut up,” you groan, bringing your hands up to cover your face. taerae hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, tugging at them playfully to get your attention. peeking out through your fingers, you glare at him.

“do you want to stop?” he asks, removing his hands quickly. “we can stop if you want to or need to or anything.”

you reach down and grab both of his hands in yours, reattaching them to your underwear. “please keep going.”

he blinks at you for a moment before nodding, pulling your thong down your legs as you lift your hips up for him. taerae lies down fully in between your thighs now, guitar-string calloused hands wrapping around your thighs and guiding them to rest on his shoulders. 

“so pretty,” he whispers. eyes focusing on your throbbing cunt, taerae’s grip on your legs gets a little tighter-- a little more desperate. “really.”

“thanks,” you respond shyly, watching as a bit of steam begins to coat the rim of taerae’s glasses. you can’t help but smile as you reach for them, carefully removing the frames and placing them on the stand next to his bed. 

“thanks,” he echoes. 

“i’m still not convinced that you aren’t a-- oh fuck...” just as you’re about to tease your loser of a best friend again, his tongue finds your core and licks a long stripe up from your opening to your clit. taerae exhales a laugh against your pussy, tongue circling your clit as his hands now take hold of your hips.

“wait, what the fuck?” you whine breathlessly as he works you over with his mouth. “tae, i thought... oh my god.”

“taste so good, baby,” taerae moans like he’s enjoying it just as much as you are. he slips a finger in your entrance carefully, stretching you until he deems you ready for a second. “Think this pussy might be perfect.”

his eyes are closed; eating at you like you’re his favorite meal. it’s hot. way hotter than the scene from the show. way hotter than anything on that stupid show-- in which another sex scene is playing on the screen behind taerae. you suddenly feel so much pity for jocelyn; one of the hardest characters in history to pity. but the fact that there’s no way tedros fucking tedros is eating her out as good as taerae’s eating you out right now is tugging at your heart strings.

“tae,” you whimper, feeling the knot in the pit of your stomach begin to tighten. your hand tangling up in his hair at the nape of his neck causes him to moan into you and the vibration only makes you tug harder. “please, please wanna cum.”

“already? you sure?” he says, disappointment coating his voice. “could eat this pussy all night.”

“holy shit,” you exhale. you didn’t even know taerae was capable of talking like this. the only time he ever said pussy around you was if he was calling you one. now as he looks up at you from between your thighs, his pretty dimpled-smile covered in your juices as he continues to fuck you with his fingers and press his thumb against your clit...

you’re nodding frantically now. “please, please tae. make me cum.”

“fuck, baby, okay. whatever you want,” he agrees quickly, the lust in his eyes at your demand reaching a whole new level. he removes his thumb from your clit and the sudden lack of contact causes you to whine pathetically. “sshhh, don’t worry baby. i’ve got something even better, i promise.”

just as some tears from frustration are welling up in your eyes, taerae’s lips close around your clit and he begins to suck. “oh my GOD,” is all you can manage as your orgasm starts to wash over you. “taerae. oh my god, tae... c-cumming.”

you’re grinding your pussy against his tongue now to maximize the friction and the way he lifts your hips a bit to bring you even closer tells you that he’s loving every second of this. your moans match the ones that taerae is mewing into your core. he places your hips back down onto the mattress, holding them steady as you start to squirm a bit from the overstimulation. he continues to lap at you gently as your hand falls from his hair to his shoulder, causing him to look up at you.

your cheeks are red now from both your climax and the new wave of embarrassment that’s creeping up on you. you’re not sure what to say, but luckily taerae’s got you covered.

he inserts two fingers inside of you again and then pulls them out-- covered in your juices. without hesitating, he sticks them in his mouth and sucks them clean. “you’ve tasted yourself, right? probably a lot. fuck, i’m so jealous.”

your jaw drops a bit, now doubly unable to speak at the filth pouring out of your best friend’s mouth..

taerae frowns at you. “what? you want to make this awkward now?”

you shake your head. 

“was it good?” he asks, head tilting to the side as he squints slightly. you reach over to his nightstand and grab his glasses, handing them back to him. he puts them on; raising his hand to ruffle his hair.

“you know it was good,” you mumble annoyedly.

he grins. “yeah. i do.”

“UGH,” you groan, hiding behind your hands again. “i hate you.”

“please, pleeeease tae,” he mocks, climbing up closer to your face to really rub it in. “make me cum.”

“SHUT UP!” you shout, hitting his chest with your fists in annoyance. “do not get cocky about this.”

taerae shrugs, biting his lip to keep from smirking. “i guess you never wanna do this again then?”

you sigh defeatedly before replying softly, “i didn’t say that.”

“good,” he says with a smile-- shifting to the edge of the bed and standing up. “i’m gonna get you some water and a towel, okay? don’t move a muscle.”

you don’t. taerae had made sure of that with the orgasm he’d just pulled out of you. as the door to his dorm room closes behind him, you’re left with only your thoughts and the sound of that shitty tv show playing in the background. you reach for the remote weakly, pressing pause on a bizarre scene of the weeknd jerking it over a clothing rack (?).

all you can think about, though, is taerae lapping at your pussy like a starved man. what the fuck just happened? did you really just let your best friend eat you out?

and how the fuck had he managed to leave you wanting more?

[meanbossart]

do you have any thoughts on cazador as a character? personally i really loved the parallels between him and astarion & the way that the master/spawn relationship is used as an allegory for cyclical abuse. the scene with cazador’s master’s skull where you find out that he was once victimized in the exact same way that he later victimized astarion was really a lightbulb moment for me re: what vampirism represents in this game.

BOY DO I, i don't think much of it hasn't already been said, though. He's a tragic character in his own right of course, not that that takes away from the awful man he is.

Me and my boyfriend make fun of him a lot, we call him "the best BG3 character" as a little inside joke between us and come up with ridiculous scenarios of things that might have occurred throughout those 200 miserable years the spawn had under his command lol. Maybe he had a month where he was really specific about the shoes everyone wore, maybe once every other decade he had a weird week where he tried to be "nice" only to become frustrated when his efforts weren't immediately met in kind by the rightfully-terrified spawn, maybe between all the torture and horrific-ness he just did some plain weird shit like making someone crouch by in his fainting couch and wait by open-handed for grapes that he dramatically chewed on and then spat right out since he can't actually eat them lmao

And that's hysterical but I think we also started doing that because when you meet Cazador, when you first hear his voice and see his demeanor in person your immediate reaction is probably somewhere along the lines of "THIS is the clown you were so scared of, Astarion?"

And the answer is, of course, yes. This embarrassing little man stuck in a cage of his making instills fear beyond comprehension in Astarion and all his siblings. This man who undoubtedly showed all these spawn, inadvertently, the strangest, most arguably "human" aspects of himself at some point or another during these two centuries they had together is also an absolute monster. And i really like that! I think its far more effective and fitting for his story than if he was, lets say, a Ketheric type.

(this got very long so, more under the cut)

Look at Ascended Astarion in the epilogue now, for example. Everyone agrees that he's an absolute fucking dork - and I think we all also agree that he will go on to destroy the lives of many people beyond repair, especially his own, until the day he is killed.

In the topic of vampirism as an allegory for abuse, I both agree and also don't, at least not exactly - i just think it's deeper than that. I've spoken about this in another post but i find it incredibly refreshing how, to me, it seems like Baldur's Gate 3 has no interest in painting vampirism as sexy or fun past a surface level. It's a curse that nobody asks for unless put in a situation where they feel as if they have no other way out, and it shapes and haunts you for the rest of your undead existence.

Even if you enjoy its benefits at first, that has a time limit. You will see your family and loved ones die, you will see culture evolve while you stay perpetually the same. You will experience so much hurt and pain because the only thing that makes life truly sweet is knowing that it is finite, and eventually it will wear down all of your humanity. And since you can't die unless you are scorched by the sun, staked, or dismembered, you must live with the knowledge that you will never have a peaceful death - and since you won't have a peaceful death, you better not die - and if you don't want to die, you better not be weak - and if you don't want to be weak, you must seek out power at all cost and slash things like love and friendship out of your life.

And what is funny, is that in his attempt to be more like a mortal - to eat, drink, walk the sun, such incredibly simple desires - Cazador (and Astarion, if he ascends) is accidentally only drawing further away from the person he supposedly once was, because that fear of weakness has already utterly corrupted his soul.

That's quite a grim way to look at it, of course. But I genuinely think that it is the natural conclusion of something like immortality.

That's why I quite like that, even after Astarion has found happiness, even after he finds his peace, he still doesn't exactly embrace being a vampire - because It's not something he should be expected to embrace. I think it's a very unique take on the trope.

I also want to leave here this message written by his character writer, which really got me thinking about him on a deeper level since i saw it months ago. It is specifically about the sexual aspect, but I think it branches beyond it too, when you think about it.

[scaredpigeons]

“Let me look at you.”

kaveh x fem!reader

Nsfw 18+ MDNI. Smut. Pussy inspection, teasing, light oral (fem receiving) Kaveh’s a bit mean, but not really and we like it. Established relationship, childhood friends to lovers, yes you both live in Alhaitham’s house still cuz I’ll never separate my otp

———————

You hear the rattle of a doorknob, unable to open. 

Then a thud, as if something hit the door. 

“Darling?” Kaveh’s frustration leaked into his voice. “Are you in there? I forgot my keys again.” 

You smiled, and rose from the sofa to open the door. Your sweet Kaveh stood in the doorway, shoulders slumped and white knuckling his mechanical toolbox, looking at you miserably through his brows. 

“Welcome home,” you stepped aside, allowing him to trudge into the entrance. “ I would ask how your day was…” 

“You would not believe the day I’ve had. I don’t even want to repeat some of the atrocities I had to witness today, let alone the absolute crimes against art as a whole— and I had to just sit there and let him drone on and on!— AND regardless of my experience and clear expertise on the subject, this—this monster absolutely refused to budge on— seriously my love, who in their right mind requests five inch thick mullions on stunning lancet arched windows?! The man's wife wanted them to be Sumerian rose stained glass— which I already ordered the exact amount for, at double the usual rate so they could have it installed in time for their daughter's birthday— and suddenly the man wants mullions?!” 

Your romantic relationship with Kaveh might have been fresh, but being friends with him since childhood gave you plenty of experience with these kinds of moods. You knew this spiral would only ruin his evening, and if left to fester it would consume his entire month. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You asked timidly, not wanting to send him into another rant, but not wanting your silence to convince him you don’t care. 

Kaveh huffed, and turned towards you. “Unless you can tell this imbecile of a client that—“ He paused, actually looking at you for the first time since he walked into the house. 

Since moving in with him and Alhaitham, you’d certainly made yourself comfortable in the space. 

The house had little pieces of you scattered here and there; a lavender throw pillow on your favorite couch, new mugs in the cupboard, a framed photo of the three of you from your last trip to the desert—smiling and laughing in the sun while camped at an oasis, but nothing showed how comfortable you were there more than how you dressed around the house. 

When the two of you became adults, you rarely ever saw each other outside of the akadeymia and Lambads tavern, so respectable formal wear was what you wore often. When you started coming over and rekindling your bond with Kaveh, you wanted to impress him, to be attractive to him, so you always dressed your best, always done up. But now…

He gazed longingly at your thighs peeking out from beneath one of his oversized shirts, buttons only done up halfway so that the majority of your chest was visible, placed to just cover your nipples in case someone came home during the day. Your hair was pinned back away from your face using a multitude of his own hair pins, and your face glowed as if it was recently washed. 

You were the pinnacle of beauty to Kaveh. So comfortable in his life— like you were meant to be there all along. He sighed, releasing his tight grip on mehrak to let him hover in place just beside him. 

“Actually, yes.” He sighed again, releasing the tension in his shoulders as he gestured for you with his arms. “Come here, let me hold you for a moment.”

You smiled sweetly and curled up into his embrace, humming happily as he rested himself at the junction of your neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply and groaning a little beneath his breath. 

“You’re perfect, you know that?” He said wistfully. 

You giggled, dropping your head to his shoulder to hide your intense blush. “Stop that! I’m supposed to be making you feel better, dummy.”

“Just having you here like this makes me feel a bit better, love.” He pulled back a bit. “Come now, let me look at you, there’s no need to hide.”

Despite your flustered state, you unwrapped yourself from him, cheeks warming even more at the way his eyes raked across your body.

“You like when I look at how beautiful you are, don't you?” He said, holding your hand in his with a gentle squeeze. Though his tone was still gentle, there was something burning beneath his gaze that had warmth pooling into the pit of your stomach. 

He grinned then, suddenly a bit mischievous in nature. “You know what would really help me de-stress, love?” 

If you hadn’t seen where this was headed before, you certainly knew now— though that didn’t make you any less flustered. Even after so many months, physical intimacy with Kaveh still worked you up just as badly as it had the first time. 

“I’ll do anything for you, Kaveh. You know that.” You murmured, cupping your own cheek in embarrassment.

You feel a light pressure around your limbs and waist, and suddenly you are hoisted into the air, hands together above your head and legs spread. 

“Wait—what?!” You tried to struggle, but the grip that he had mehrak put you in was unshakable. You’d seen Kaveh use this function with mehrak countless times; to swing his claymore, to move building materials, but never once had you seen it used on anyone else. “K-Kaveh! What are y-you doing?!”

His head appeared between your legs, though he was still standing, and you could see now why he had hoisted you so high into the air. 

“Just stay still for me, yeah? I want to look at you.” 

“B-but—“

You were silenced by his long, cool fingers pushing his shirt from where it covered you, and your legs spread even wider, exposing you in your entirety to him. He smiled as he hooked his fingers into your panties, sliding them down your thighs and onto the floor at his feet. 

You continued to squirm as your face bloomed with heat, trying to look away but entranced to watch him as he spread you apart, looking at your center with intense eyes. 

He wiggles your labia around a bit, spreading you open and watching as the strands of your slick glisten between them.

He’s torturing you. Eyes never leaving your cunt as he gently thumbs at your clit, watching it twitch and relishing the moans you can’t bite back. 

The teasing makes you ache, it makes pressure form behind your glossy eyes and deep inside you somewhere shameful. You can feel yourself clenching around nothing as he toys with you, poking and rubbing here and there as if to make sure his eyes don’t miss a single part of you. 

He sees you struggling, and a laugh emerges— light and airy from his chest. 

“Please… you’re teasing too much this time, Kaveh.” You manage to whimper. 

“Oh?” He says, eyes still unwavering from your leaking hole. “What is it you want, my love?” 

You keened, so frustrated with his not-enough-touches and the fact that he’s making you say it. You tried wiggling from the hold on you once more, but it only served to satisfy him more. 

“Please!” You begged. “Please make me cum!” Your blush burned. You couldn’t take it anymore. You needed him, to feel him. 

He hummed contently at your cries, finally looking up at you. His gaze burned with a lust so intense you don’t think you’ve seen it since the first time you ever shared your bodies with one another. It was an all consuming flame, and unlike the first time— this one didn’t startle you. 

Kavehs passion was one of his best qualities, and seeing it take on this form, this desire for you— to have you, to make you his— was something you came to crave. 

“Not yet.” He said. Tone leaning towards condescending. “I’m busy looking. You’ll let me keep looking, right?” 

His gaze trailed back down your body to your aching core, where he continued to run his fingers along your folds, eyes heavy with lust at the slick he touched there.

“After all,” he said. “You're so very pretty, and you know how stressed I get. And playing with this pretty pussy of my very own helps sooo much, you know that dont you?”

His words were dripping in sex—in demeaning condescension, and you were about to explode because of it. You squirmed and struggled more, moaning and crying out at the weight of his heavy gaze, and the lightness of his thumb across your clit. It throbbed, sending waves of need up your limbs and making your hips buck against his touch.

“I really enjoy playing with you like this,” He said darkly. Times like these were the only moments Kaveh ever spoke down to you. He was typically very doting, loving, and non confrontational when it came to your relationship. But when you hear his voice sink like this, hear him speak as if he owns you, it sends your brain into overdrive. 

Finally, finally he brings his tongue up your center, taking a nice firm lick from your clenching hole to your aching clit. He seems to add just the tiniest bit more pressure as his tongue rakes over your clit, and you squeal. 

A low, shuddering orgasm overtakes you, and you crumple into it, trying to milk it for all its worth. You’re shocked that he keeps his tongue gently moving over your clit when he realizes what’s happening though he never moves to make it more intense. He works you through it gently, drinking up your cries of pleasure. Your clit throbs dully with each wave of your orgasm, and right before it becomes something closer to painful, he stops. 

His large hands grip your thighs, and he watches as you continue to twitch with the aftershocks. He watches your orgasm subside, and laughs when you start to squirm needingly so soon after. 

“Awe, poor sweet thing. Not enough?” 

Your fucked out expression was nearly enough to break him. Tears streamed down your flushed cheeks, your eyelids drooped and heavy from the aftermath, but still sparkling with lust from the need for more. 

Truly, Kaveh never felt more blessed than when in these moments with you, and he truly couldn’t even remember the specifics of what exactly had made him so unhappy in the first place. 

He was sure he’d remember eventually, and go back to having more work to do, but for now, he’d rather just enjoy the fire you’ve brought from within him. 

“Alright, alright.” He smiled. “I wasn’t done with you yet anyways.” 

[pankowblues]

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

summary: rafe proposes to you in Germany

warning: nothing I think

word count: —

a/n: thanks to @rafecameroncoke for helping me choose which one to post since I wrote two versions of this also I might do this exact same thing but for my shy!introvert!reader

"Rafe, seriously, what are we doing here?" you ask, peering out of the taxi window. The cobblestone streets of Germany are lined with buildings that look like they've been plucked straight out of a storybook. You weren't complaining though you've always wanted to come here.

"It's a surprise," Rafe says, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "Trust me, you're going to love it."

You can't help but return his smile. Rafe has always had a knack for surprises, and after five years together, you've learned to expect the unexpected. The taxi pulls up in front of a quaint little restaurant tucked away in a picturesque alley. The warm glow of candlelight spills out onto the cobblestones, and the smell of roasting meats and freshly baked bread fills the air. Your stomach rumbles, reminding you that it's been hours since you last ate.

As you step out of the taxi, a cool breeze whispers through the narrow street, carrying with it the distant sounds of laughter and live music. Rafe takes your hand, leading you towards the restaurant. His grip is firm, yet gentle, the same way he's held your hand through every challenge life has thrown at you both. You feel the anticipation building in your chest as you walk through the arched wooden doorway into the cozy dining room.

Inside, the walls are lined with shelves of fine wine bottles, and a small fire crackles in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the tables. The hostess, a friendly woman with a thick German accent, greets Rafe by name and shows you to a table that's been reserved just for the two of you. She leaves you with a knowing smile that makes you wonder if she's in on the surprise.

The menu is a delightful mix of traditional German dishes, and as you try to decide what to order, Rafe's gaze lingers on you, filled with a mix of love and something else. You can't quite put your finger on it, but it's definitely something special. The moment you lock eyes with him, your heart skips a beat. You've always felt safe with Rafe, but tonight there's something in the air that's both thrilling and slightly nerve-wracking.

As you both dig into your meals, the conversation flows naturally. You talk about your trip so far, the sights you've seen, and the memories you've made. Rafe tells you about the time he visited Germany as a child with his parents, and how he's always wanted to come back and share the experience with you. You laugh at his stories, the sound echoing softly in the romantic setting.

The evening wears on, and the restaurant starts to empty out. The music gets softer, the candles flicker lower, and the ambiance becomes more intimate. The waitress, who has been attentive all night, brings out a bottle of champagne with a knowing smile. Rafe's eyes never leave yours as she pops the cork and pours the bubbly liquid into your glasses.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small velvet box. Your heart leaps into your throat as he opens it, revealing a ring that sparkles like the stars in the clear night sky above. "I know we've talked about this before," he says, his voice steady but his hands shaking slightly, "but I wanted to ask you again, in the most beautiful place I could think of. Will you marry me?"

You can't believe what's happening. Your eyes well up with happy tears, and all you can manage is a nod. The words feel lodged in your throat, too precious to speak. Rafe takes your trembling hand and slides the ring onto your finger, the diamond glinting in the candlelight. It fits perfectly, like it was made just for you, which of course it was.

The restaurant goes quiet for a moment, and you realize everyone is looking at you. You blush, feeling a mix of embarrassment and excitement. The patrons erupt into applause, and the chef himself emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron, to congratulate you both. The waitress brings over a complimentary dessert, a beautiful black forest cake with a single candle in the center. Rafe whispers something to her, and she smiles conspiratorially before lighting the candle and retreating.

He leans in closer, his eyes searching yours. "Make a wish," he says, and you know he's not just talking about the candle. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and make a silent wish that the love you share will only grow stronger with time. As you blow out the candle, the warmth of the flame tickles your cheeks. When you open your eyes, Rafe is grinning at you, looking happier than you've ever seen him. You smile, feeling a new sense of pride in your fiancé.

taglist: @rafecameroncoke, @0xstarzx0 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @v4mqvs , @aariahnaa, @congratsloserr

[throneofsapphics]

track 32

Fenrys x Reader x Lorcan

Summary: Cursed to fall in love, only to have everything ripped away from you, moving on to your next life already feels like a drag, only things don't quite follow their usual patterns.

Warnings: discussions of death, Maeve, brief description of torture, happy ending

Word Count: 8077

A/N: the HAPPIEST of birthdays to @whisperingmidnights <3 I hope you have an amazing day (& thank you to @rowaelinsdaughter for your help)

You tumbled into your new body. Again. At least this time the Gods let you skip through the childhood years, instead flooding your mind with memories of your new past. You could only be a toddler so many times before truly losing the last grip on your sanity. 

You’d think so much pain and suffering would flood together, the lives all melting into one giant messed up pot but instead each experience remained distinctly painful to you. Distinctly full of suffering and sour memories. You, obviously, hadn’t survived a single one and your trek across the multiverse was written in blood. 

It took you up until life 15 to really stop holding onto so many grudges, especially considering you seemed to be destined to fall for the same people each time. Not the same types of people, but the actual same person. 

Whoever put a curse on you had been clever. If you were cursed, perhaps you were just really damn unlucky. But right now you needed a bath, a hot meal, and a good night’s rest. Of course you were drunk. Fresh in from a night out on the town with one of your friends, but you had good some good fortune in this life - your own apartment. 

Tossing clothes off as you walked, you beelined towards where you knew the bathing room was. You were pretty certain you’d stayed in this exact apartment building before, and if you remembered correctly each apartment had near identical layouts, the entire building cheap and designed for efficiency. In this life, you’d made it your own more than in the previous ones. 

You stepped into the tub, let the cold water hit your toes, partially sobering you, rivulets of now psycho-somatic grime and blood streaming from your body to pool in clear water at your feet. 

A mind healer would have a field day with you and you knew it all too well. 

Plugging the drain, you adjusted it to reach the perfect temperature. Yes, an efficiency building but still had hot running water. It was odd, but you didn’t question it - you were a creature of comfort after all. 

You wondered when you’d see them again. You wished you could say that tall of your interactions started off on a fresh beat, that you had it together enough not to judge them based on versions of them in a different universe, but you weren’t. 

Having it together? Maybe, certainly not on that level though. Having it together enough to appreciate their presence at this moment? Hell no. 

After last time. 

“We’re done,” he mumbled, not willing to make eye contact with you. 

“Then say it to my face,” you glanced between both of them. 

Heads down. Eyes downcast - first time you’d seen them like that. 

“Then I really meant that little, didn’t I?”

“No,” one said - you could barely distinguish who through the raging steam in your ears and tears down your cheeks. 

“Yes,” the other said. You didn’t know or care who said what. It didn’t matter. Later, just before the death took you you’d find out who made them do it and realize it still didn’t matter. She may have forced them to lie, but they didn’t have to be quite so convincing. 31 lives had taught you logic had no place in heartbreak. 

The memory hit you like a physical blow to the chest, a stinging and pressure left in its wake. That heartbreak had killed you the quickest of them all. 

Three days. 

It was part of your curse, you’d figured out. To always know. What life you were on, the details of your past lives, how long it took you to do, what the death felt like, every little detail was committed to memory all because you’d dared to love someone a little too much, and ended up stealing them away from a wicked witch. 

Well, the story didn’t go quite like that but you thought it sounded better in your head that way. In reality, you’d fallen in love and done something stupid, as all people in love do from time to time. 

You and Lorcan had agreed you should try to get Fenrys out, that although it would be more difficult to get him released, Fenrys needed it more. You didn’t have the guts to tell him you needed both of them like you needed air, but there hadn’t been time for that. All of your moments were stolen and borrowed time. 

“Will you please release him from your service?” You were on your knees, begging. “Please, Majesty.” 

The harsh flooring dug into your knees but you kept the same subservient pose. For someone with so much pride, this was humiliating and your Queen knew it. 

“No.” 

One flat and toneless word. 

“No?” You repeated. 

Wicked red lips curved into a smile. “That is what I said.” 

You had several choice words for her after, and she’d responded with a fucking curse. Cursed to always love, but to never have it stick, cursed to die from heartbreak. 

Even after all of these lives the word ‘curse’ was still ugly in your mouth, still made your stomach heave and back seize at the memories. The times you’ve run into the Queen she hadn’t recognized you, but you knew she was still untouchable. Frequently made that way by the ones you loved. 

The breeze sneaking through the poorly insulated window highlighted how water already chilled around you. You didn’t miss that part of this building, the tub held next to no heat and your bathwater always ended up cold in less than fifteen minutes. 

You were tempted to stay still and prune, but there was no use in it. A new life, new things to do. 

Dragging yourself out of the tub, you dried off as efficiently as you could make yourself, scrounged up some comfortable clothes and headed to your desk. Grabbing a notepad and pen, you began writing. 

number thirty-one. 

It was a ritual of sorts, perhaps your imaginary mind healer would be proud of you for it, for getting all of your pain out on paper as soon as possible. 

Right before you burned it. 

Tossing the five sheets of paper on the flames felt good.

Running into them happened far too quickly for your liking. It always did. Life always started and finished too damn fast. 

You glanced in the mirror, at what you’d chosen to wear for the night out with your not-really-new friends. The dress fit you perfectly, and showed just enough to leave you feeling bold without being uncomfortable. The gold wrapped around your wrists helped too. Not too much to look rob worthy, but enough to make you feel like some extra type of sheen was thrown over you. Maybe, just maybe this life would bring you a little luck. Was gold supposed to be good luck? You didn’t know, but maybe you’d figure out how to look it up later. If you remembered to. 

You felt something warm in your chest, not unlike the flush from the first sip of whiskey. Closing your eyes you could’ve sworn it tugged, dragged you towards another. 

No, not in this or any life. It wasn’t possible. 

No matter how many times you fell in love and in how many ways, you’d never found a mate and were convinced you were destined not to. 31 lives was enough time to find a mate, a life partner. You should’ve had that done in by life 10. 

It was funny, how you’d started measuring your existence in lives rather than years. After all, it fit your circumstances. Permanently destined to be a temporary existence in others lives, and for their existence and influence to end yours. If there was a way out of this, a stopping or breaking of the curse you figured you would’ve found it by now. 

A loud pounding on the door and you hissed as the brush slipped, you barely moving your wrist away in time to save your face from a large black streak. 

“Gods,” you yelled, “hold on a damn moment.” 

“We’re going to miss the bard,” someone - Ella? Yes, Ella, shouted back. 

“Alright,” you groused loud enough for her to hear, “one moment.” 

One more swipe of kohl and you looked ready. A few deep breaths and you felt ready. 

Shoving the cosmetics to the back of the counter, you swung yourself around the doorway, grabbing your coat off the hook and flinging open the front door, finding your friend posed with their fist menacingly mid-air, probably about to break your door down. Memory clicked in, reminding you they can be a tad aggressive on a mission. 

Their mouth curved into a too-satisfied smirk, probably that their threats had work. Rolling your eyes, you shoved past them into the hall, quickly locking your door. 

“Anyone else for tonight?” 

“Just us,” they looped their arm through yours and started for the stairs. 

Ugh. Last time in this building you’d been on the ground floor, and you’d definitely miss the convenience of that, but at least you had a pretty balcony view here. It’s all give and take, you supposed. 

“Copper for your thoughts?” Ella’s voice interrupted you. 

How long had you zoned out? Was that a habit in this lifetime? You couldn’t remember. 

“Do I really look that broke?” You deflected. 

It worked, she laughed. Maybe it would’ve been nice if she pushed a little. 

-

Fenrys breathed in the fresh air. Maeve had sent him on a mission. Alone. Staking out Varese for several months, observing, but she didn’t exactly tell him what to look for. It was perhaps the most exciting and infuriating mission he’d been assigned. Infuriating, because he truly had no idea what in Hellas’s name he was supposed to do, exciting because he had months to spend doing whatever he thought ‘observing’ looked like. 

Yes, he knew it was a mockery of freedom but right now he’d take the gods-damned mockery over what he’s stuck in every day. 

Walking through the street, although he stuck to the shadows, unnoticed to the masses, it still felt like each face was sent there to tease him, remind him of the invisible leash tying him to that bitch for the rest of his life. He didn’t know how Lorcan, the bastard, did it with such glee and joy. At least Whitethorn had shown a measure of discontent at some point, he’d even seen a hint of it on perfectly loyal Gavriel’s face. 

Something caught his attention. Someone. 

Arm in arm with your friend, strolling down the street, exuding pure confidence. Someone aware of their place in this world and what they meant to it. The light in your eyes matched his own. Dimmed, flaring when necessary and just enough to keep up appearances. 

Only a fellow fraud would recognize it. 

He had to follow. It was insanity, but he needed to see more of you. 

That’s how he ended up nursing a drink in the corner of the bar, shadows wreathed around him, cloak pulled up to cover his face. He matched some of the many body guards of nobles around, and through some blessing not a soul had recognized him or even shot him a second glance. Perhaps Friday’s were quite a popular night for the elite to pretend, that or he’d gotten better at blending in. He didn’t know which to put his money on. 

Someone, however, caught all of the attention - including his, even when he tried to ignore the magnetic attraction tugging him towards you. Throwing your head back in a laugh, you danced along with your friend, clothing absolutely sinful and fitting right in. He loved it. Every part of your energy felt like it was tugging at him, urging him closer, closer, closer, and he realized just how dangerous that made you. 

Dangerous to him, and to yourself through him. 

No matter what, she hung over him like a storm cloud. 

Anything he might try to pursue with you would end before it could truly began, love or relationship cut off at its knees without a chance to truly blossom. Did he actually want it to? Could Fenrys actually be that selfish? 

Yes, if it came to you. He glanced down at his pint. Still half full, and rather weak shit. He wasn’t drunk but still managed to think complete nonsense. Nothing could happen, but for now he supposed it couldn’t hurt to imagine a fantasy life with a stranger he’d never see again live in the corner of his mind, so long as it it stayed there. He was so, so wrong. 

-

Lorcan Salvaterre knew about sacrifice. In fact, he was an expert at it, at this point. But, every bit was worth it for her. His Queen. The only female he’d truly loved to the point where he’d do anything and everything. 

Perhaps other love could have come his way, but it had never been the right time. Timing, in his opinion, shouldn’t matter. He’d always make the time for Maeve, and everything he’d done since meeting her had been for her. When she ordered him away, he left. When she kept him by her side - but never her bed - he stayed. Maeve said jump, he asked how high. 

That's why Lorcan was trying to figure out when in Hellas he’d become so disillusioned, starting thinking things so unlike him. He couldn’t tell her, couldn’t tell anyone. Lorcan didn’t have any friends or confidants, that wasn’t something he dealt in. To him, there was no purpose in friends when his entire life’s purpose was bound by blood to servitude. 

The closest thing he had to friends was his blood brothers, and like hell he’d ever tell them of this ... treachery waging war inside of his mind. 

Lunch swirled unpleasantly in his stomach as he thought of the word. Treason. 

When Maeve called him to the throne room, when he knelt before her, he mentally prepared himself for his immortal life to end rather early. She must know. She always knows. 

Instead, he needed to figure out how he’d pissed her off because she’d sent him off for some kind of torturous punishment. Keeping an eye on Fenrys, currently loose in Varese. 

“Anything I should watch out for in particular, majesty?” He was quite proud of how he kept the bitterness from his tone. Or thought he did. 

“You’ll know if you see something off,” she dismissed him with a wave. “Consider it a vacation, of sorts.” 

Blood sworn didn’t get vacations, he wanted to protest. He didn’t want - or need one. Had he really been slacking that much? The journey would provide adequate time for reflection, for him to dissect and figure out exactly where he’d gone wrong so he could prevent those mistakes in the future. That was essential. This trip however, like most things with Fenrys, would probably turn out to be a complete waste of his time. Time that could be spent doing much better things. But ... he supposed if this is what his Queen wanted him to do, it was exactly what he’d be doing, regardless of his feelings on the subject. His feeling always had been, and always would be inconsequential.

He was here. Already. Fuck. 

It was day 2, and you couldn’t catch a break. Is there such thing as a resting life? One where you could go through without any relationships, just peace and enjoying your moments of solitude? No, not for someone like you. 

Running away from them never worked, they would haunt your every movement until they consumed every last bit of you and scattered crumbs on the wind, only for the crumbs to reform and drag you back towards them. 

Do you embrace fate or run away from it? It was inevitable, what was the point in fighting anymore? You were so tired of it. Exhaustion rippled from you in waves, you were surprised everyone around you hadn’t noticed as soon as you walked in. 

Even if you wanted to, Fate, in the form of the most gorgeous man to exist, all bronze skin, onyx eyes, and golden hair, didn’t give you a choice. He slid into the bar stool next to you. 

You didn’t smile, at first, but your traitorous heart warmed in his presence. 

“Have we met before?” He said, jokingly. 

If only he knew. 

“Maybe in your dreams,” you slid your hand across the bar and grabbed your glass, drinking deeply. He winced. 

“Am I that bad of company?” 

“You’ve been here for,” you glanced at the clock pointedly, “a minute. It has nothing to do with you.” You’d tried every approach in the past to get them to see if it would deter them enough for them to circumvent fate, but nothing worked. Each version of you was destined for tragedy with each version of them. 

“That’s fair enough,” Fenrys replied. You reminded yourself you didn’t know his name. 

“What do they call you?” The words came out, regardless of your internal wince, knowing you were setting him up for a ridiculous line. 

“In b-”

You held a hand up and his mouth clamped shut. “No, no, none of that.” 

He laughed, deep and rich, a sound you ... had you heard that laugh from him before? Perhaps not, at least not in a few lives. Recently things had been so depressing. 

“I like you,” he nudged you gently with his elbow, your heart ached. 

not again not again not again. 

‘Yes,’ a cruel voice from red lips whispered in your mind, ‘again, again, again. Forever. This is what you deserve.’

Someone cleared their throat. Fenrys. 

“Sorry,” you murmured, glancing at the bottom of your nearly empty glass. Empty. Fuck. You couldn’t handle this sober. Were you sober? Your friends were long gone, all found partners for the night while you nursed your worries at the bar. “What’s your name?” You took the last sip of your drink as the last syllable left your lips, ideally it could hide any signs of a lie from him. 

“Fenrys,” he leaned back enough in his stool to extend his arm to you, rather formally. When you placed your hand in his, intending to squeeze it to death, he deftly rearranged your hands and raised your knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft kiss there. “At your service.” 

“Charmer,” you rolled your eyes but softly pulled your hand away and replied with your name. 

He said your name quietly, extending the vowels, as if testing how it sounded on his tongue, how it might sound in other - 

You chided yourself, pulling your mind out of the gutter. With the situation you knew he was always in, that was the last thing you needed to be thinking about. Or that he needed to be. You might not escape him, but you certainly wouldn’t do anything to make this harder on yourself. At least thats what you’re saying now. 

“Last call,” the gruff barman said, scowling at Fenrys before shooting you a smile. Your mind rattled through details. Right, you regularly shut this tavern down and always left a good tip. 

You leaned over to Fenrys and whispered low so the other male couldn’t hear, “he’s easy to win over. A good tip, manners, and easy orders.” 

Fenrys hid his snort in his drink, draining the last droplets. “Thank you for the advice, love,” he whispered conspiratorially. Asshole. 

“Whatever,” you mumbled and left your usual amount, sliding off the stool. Just because you were fated to make each other’s lives hell didn’t mean you had to deal with him being rude. Maybe you were just sensitive. 

A ‘wait’ followed you but you ignored it. Inevitable.

He caught up to you on the street, calling your name again. 

Something else struck you. He was alone in Varese. When did this happen? This was odd. Out of all of your lifetimes nothing had followed this pattern, never meeting so quickly and certainly not with Fenrys on his own with his leash rather loose for what the bitch prefers. You needed to figure out more. 

“Want to come back to my place for a drink?” You said, slowly turning to look at him. 

If he was surprised by your quick change of tune, he didn’t say a thing, only nodding and linking your arms together. Like he’d been waiting for a friend. The pain in your chest was physical as much as it was emotional. 

-

Lorcan was here to keep an eye on Fenrys, and if that meant sitting in the shadows on a rooftop, peering through a beautiful female’s stupidly open window then so be it. You walked around and even acted like you didn’t give a damn whether you lived or died, but he could tell you were smart, based on how you’d handled Fenrys. 

He’d ended enough lives to have an appreciation for it, and the way you were so gods-damned careless with yours pissed him off. 

Lorcan should be questioning why his feelings towards you are so strong, but instead he’s observing every little detail of the interactions between you and Fenrys. For his report, of course. He always paid attention to detail, there was no other reason than being thorough. At least he kept telling himself that. 

It wasn’t because he liked the way your hair moved, or how you rolled your eyes frequently at his blood-sworn brother, followed by a barely there smile that he only noticed because the shadows danced around it, as if you repelled the darkness. 

Maybe you could repel the darkness in him. 

What. The. Fuck. 

Lorcan hadn’t drank, and even if he had he never entertained thoughts like this. 

Refocusing, he committed to memory every detail of what Fenrys was doing, how he reacted to you, how attached he might be and how you might already be used against him by his Queen. 

An unfamiliar feeling settled in his stomach, tainting him. 

Guilt. 

He didn’t want to use you. 

But if it came to it, he wouldn't have a choice. He never really did. 

-

Fenrys whistled lowly on his way home, through the empty streets. Still aware of his surroundings, also aware that none would dare approach him - not with the steel and the stature he carried himself with, proof he knew how to use it. 

All he’d done is sit and talk with you for hours, in fact the dawn was currently beginning to crest over the city. Hours of sitting and talking felt like mere minutes with you, and he found he had more fun in that time than he had in years, perhaps decades, perhaps since entering Maeve’s service. 

It was sad, really, that you could only be a temporary fixture, for your own safety. 

Still, his mind rattled with ways to do the impossible, with how he could be with you forever without ... it was useless, really, to even ponder it. The false hope and ideas would only taint the present he had, for however long Maeve let him stay here in his ... his fantasy, he supposed. 

He could imagine many fantasies with you involved but the biggest was your friendship. The way you hadn’t hit on him, made any kind of sexual innuendos or advances, thats why he followed you out of the bar. Because you made him comfortable in a way nobody else had in so, so long. Like you’d been doing it for lifetimes. 

The scent hit him. The male wanted him to know he was there. His entire body stiffened, posture straightened slightly, pleasant after buzz from your intoxicating presence gone just like that. 

Lorcan Salvaterre. His commander. 

“Who was that?” Lorcan wasted no time and matched pace with him. 

“None of your business,” Fenrys snapped. Aware that he could be punished for it, but he didn’t care, he looked the male right in the eyes. 

Lorcan ... Lorcan didn’t push him. At all. Instead, something like understanding passed through his eyes. Had Lorcan needed to protect someone from Maeve before? 

Probably not. He was a cold hearted bastard through and through. 

“Keep her away,” the words were whispered on the wind - there and gone. Just like Lorcan, who melted into the shadows. 

Away from who? Lorcan didn’t say ‘keep away from her,’ and Fenrys knew everything the bastard did was intentional. 

Lorcan Salvaterre was here. You knew it, having caught the faintest hint of his unfortunately familiar scent, trailing after you like a hound. 

The fact that he was following you made you nervous. Yes, similar situations had occured before but everything about this time seemed so different that it filled you with mixed emotions. 

What are the odds there’s actually something good in store for you? Slim, you decided, based on history and reasoning, and you knew Lorcan Salvaterre stalking anyone was bad news, but especially for you when you had ... history with the Queen he so lovingly served.

Someone whose head deserved to be ripped right from her neck, you cast the thought into the universe and hoped it landed, hoped she felt a phantom prick in the side of her neck. 

Maybe she regretted cursing you to some kind of eternal half existence, always in and out of different worlds. Doubtful. More likely she tired of whatever game she decided to play for you and set the person who she knew would hurt the most to kill you. Even you could admit you were extrapolating. 

Maybe an attitude change could fix everything. A tad less drama. 

You glanced out the window, at the rain currently pouring down, at the moisture leaking into your apartment. The weather certainly didn’t match up for life changes, if anything it read of staying right where you were. 

Accepting it wouldn’t happen today, you saved the attitude change for the next sunny day. Those practically screamed change in fortune. Or you hoped they did. 

A week passed. You saw Fenrys each night at the Tavern, and scented a weirdly careless Lorcan on your trail each day. 

Your attitude may not have changed with the next bout of sunshine, but you had a plan. It was rather simple, to somehow draw Lorcan out. However, there was a difference between having a plan and knowing how to execute it. You supposed that made your plan an idea more than anything. 

Fenrys had mentioned business meetings he’d be attending one night, and you decided that was the perfect to do it. The perfect night to pretend to get sloshed, and you had the help of your favorite barkeep. 

Knowing Lorcan, he probably had questions for you, and wouldn’t miss the opportunity to get some answers while your inhibitions were ‘lowered.’ Arrogant males like him wouldn’t let opportunities slide by, but Lorcan Salvaterre stayed Maeve’s commander for a reason, and you knew your acting skills had to be top notch to keep him from becoming suspicious. 

-

“When will you stop pretending to drink those?” Lorcan asked gruffly as he slid into the stool next to you, his hulking frame towering over the bar and casting a shadow over you. You were a good actress, but he was better, and caught on after the first couple of drinks and exchanged looks between you and the barkeep, who you were on very friendly terms with. 

The obsession with you, the flares of irrational anger when another man trailed too close, Lorcan knew what this was, and knew he was screwing both of you over with it. Fated for misery and doom, no matter how the cards played out. He’d be stuck with her, Lorcan noted how she was demoted in his mind, and you’d be ... free. 

All those years he’d spent making fun of those males now served to make him feel like a lot of an asshole because he gotit. There was a crack in his armor, a weakness in his resolve, and nobody knew about it. He intended to keep it that way until you were far, far away from him and his ... his Queen, and then as long as possible after that. His stomach clenched at the thought of what she might do to you in order to help keep him in line. Nothing good, and everything bad. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you answered primly, turning away from him. Why had he come over here again? 

He laughed, low and harshly. “Sure you don’t, sweetheart,” he exaggerated the last word - turning it into an insult. It didn’t feel right. His entire being flared against any insult to you, even coming from him. 

But ... the little flash of anger in your eyes, the way your nostrils flared, that was amusing. He liked the fire in you. “What did you call me?” 

He shrugged. 

You scoffed, muttering an insult he chose to ignore under your breath. “Nothing to say to that one?” You pushed when he didn’t answer, letting your elbow brush against his, “I thought it was creative. If you need me to I can keep going, there’s plenty where it came from.” 

“It was well done,” perhaps he wasn’t particularly in the mood to be insulted all night, and he got the sense you were more than capable of doing just that. 

“Well done,” you echoed, and he nodded. Your mouth curled into the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. 

-

In the future, you might just deny it ever happened, but Lorcan Salvaterre ended up in your apartment that night. You ignored the fact that he seemed to know the way there. There had always been plenty you were willing to ignore when it came to that male, and that hadn’t changed over the last however many lives. 

Once Lorcan - once he’d found his Queen, you’d been second. But before that, he’d made you his everything. You never could blame him for leading you to beg Maeve that first time, that cursed time. 

Still, on the nights when you were alone, when the rain or a pretty mountain outline reminded you of him, when everything felt too much, it was easier to pin it on him, even if it made you a horrible person. Horrible, even for an ex-lover, but then again you were always an expert at self-depreciation. 

Looking at the male now, like a statue of a God carved from granite, you knew he’d be the death of you. Again. But how could you fight him? You never had the strength to in the past. Maybe you weren’t trying to survive hard enough ... 

Things had never moved this quickly in the past, they’d always been at a pace just slow enough to be torturous with your knowledge of your impending doom. 

Maybe this time you needed to really try. 

For Lorcan. For Fenrys. But mostly, for yourself. 

The door closed behind you and you slipped back into reality, into the new situation you found yourself in. 

“Drink?” You asked over your shoulder, heading right for your kitchen. 

He caught your hand, spinning you back towards him. 

“I had something else in mind,” he said roughly, and dipped his head towards yours. 

You knew he could be patient, he could be gentle, he could be kind, but you got none of that now. 

His hand gripped your jaw, tight enough to keep you still but not harsh enough to hurt, his mouth moved fervently against yours as you matched his pace. It was the collision of a thousand stars, a world breaking and re-forming into something new and beautiful and wonderful. It was everything and more. It was the multiverse coming together into a single moment and screaming yes! this is what you were waiting for. He slowed, softened, as if some kind of guilt caught up with him. You wouldn’t have that. Couldn’t. You gripped the back of his hair and pulled him back closer to you, pressing your body against his. 

He would be yours for the night, but little did he know you‘d already been his for eternity. 

-

You owe him nothing. You owe him nothing. You owe him nothing, Fenrys reminded himself as he walked out of the bar, spotting you teasing Lorcan. He’d finished his business meetings early and thought he might see if you were still haunting your favorite spot at the bar. 

Still, he wanted to rush up to you and ask you if you knew who the hell you were tangling with but ... he supposed he was like Lorcan in that way, one of Maeve’s Blood Sworn, and to have two of them shown publicly taking an interest in you was nothing short of deadly and he refused to subject you to that. So Fenrys left. 

And hated himself for it, but self hatred was nothing new to him. 

Fenrys wasn’t sure how he found Lorcan’s rooms, considering the male probably didn’t want to be found right now. Probably wanted to bask in you. Your beauty, the time he sp-

He stopped himself from thinking of it. Even thought of shifting now, to a body where emotions were simpler and didn’t drain quite so much. Fenrys rarely shifted voluntarily when away from her, not after she kept him in that form so frequently. ‘Where he was easier to deal with,’ she’d said once, and the words still stung as His Majesty, he thought the words mockingly, intended for them to. 

The door swung open. 

Lorcan didn’t speak, just stood there with his arms crossed and jaw clenched. 

Fenrys felt young, and not in a good way. What was he? A jealous lover? Concerned friend? Idiot? 

Then it hit him. 

The scent. 

Yours. 

His. 

Entwined. 

Without him. 

Rage, pure and strong filled him. The scent was particular, and he’d seen it just a few times before. Lorcan, intelligently, had a shield around himself before Fenrys he was on the verge of some kind of burst. 

“Not fucking possible,” Fenrys backed away, “we can’t have the same mate.” 

Lorcan’s eyes widened, but he was looking beyond him. Fenrys whirled around. 

You. 

“I can’t have a mate,” you said quietly, desperately. “I never have before,” then to yourself, “it’s never been like this,” you switched your gaze to the window, he watched you try to angle your face so they couldn’t see the tears in your eyes but they were evident. Everything was evident when it came to you. 

“Get inside,” Lorcan said roughly to both of you. 

He had a point, it wasn't exactly the space for this conversation. A hallway where anyone could be walking by and overhear. That’s the last thing he wanted, anything that might put you in further danger. 

When he didn’t instantly move, Lorcan grabbed his shirt, tugging him inside. There was a knife at Lorcan’s throat before the male could blink. 

“Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Me,” Fenrys hissed, slowly sliding the knife away and sheathing it at his side. 

He was surprised his commander hadn’t caught it, but then again he was staring at a pretty female in the hallway, your gaze still distant and fixed on the window. He called your name, just loud enough to carry across the distance. Your head snapped, you blinked a few times. He tilted his head towards the room. 

An over-exaggerated sigh, probably for their sake more than anything, and then you followed them inside. Each step seemed to make you shrink further into yourself, he noticed, that confidence and bravado fading and leaving someone vulnerable behind. 

It took a strong hand to tamp down on instincts rising, telling him to eliminate any immediate threats to you. The main one being Lorcan, but also any other males and possibly females in the vicinity. It was absolutely ridiculous, the way he was feeling even if he wasn’t acting on it. At least he hadn’t acted on it. Yet. If only because he was well aware it would piss you off. 

-

“What did you mean, ‘it’s never been like this?’” Lorcan asked and you read the skepticism in his eyes. Not quite distrust, but an interesting mix of confusion and concern. That had the potential to change quickly. Could you even speak about it or would you drop dead? You’d always assumed you couldn’t but ... 

“I’m cursed,” you started. They exchanged a brief glance, and for some reason that irritated you, but you kept going. “We’ve met before. Many times,” you knew that would grab and probably keep their attention, at least for a little while. You held a hand up when their brows furrowed in concern, “just hear me out before you write me off as crazy.” 

“I would never write you off,” Fenrys murmured, and you shot him a thankful look but he kept his mouth shut after that. Perhaps it had something to do with the glare on Lorcan’s face. 

The words were difficult. 

Each one felt stilted and awkward, but they watched and listened as if each word you said was pure gold and something about that made you feel powerful. They went through the emotions with you, although it was a tad more difficult to tell with Lorcan, but you struggled together in a way. For some reason, it started to feel like this might turn into a goodbye and you weren’t quite ready for that. After all, you didn’t know how anyone could stay with someone ... someone with the kind of tainted past you have. 

“Why would she do that?” You finished. It a was rare chance to ask two people who probably have more insight than any others into how the mind of the Queen works, not that you believe she’d let anyone truly understand her. 

“Cruelty,” Fenrys said. 

The same time as Lorcan said, “jealousy.” 

“Makes sense,” you huffed, eyes rolling towards the ceiling. It was stupid. 

“How do you end up reincarnated?” Lorcan asked. The question you were hoping to avoid. 

“I die.” 

“Of old age,” Fenrys said, but didn’t sound as if he believed it. 

“No,” you said sharply, exhaling. “You’ll laugh at me.” 

“Try me. Believe it or not, I don’t find your death very funny,” Fenrys said dryly. Lorcan was watching with apt attention, eyes watching you like a hawk. 

“Heartbreak,” you grunted, quickly whirling towards - fuck. You’d meant to look out the window, but saw the mirror instead and the twin faces of horror behind you struck something deep inside of your heart. 

“I -” your throat closed up, the words not quite getting out. 

“What is it?” Fenrys curled his fingers inward, and despite a slight internal cringe you let him beckon you, let him take your hands, let him give you this kind of comfort. 

“I wish you remembered,” you whispered, glancing at Lorcan too, who’s eyes and face told you, yes he knew you were changing the subject, and no the conversation was not over yet. 

-

“I don’t -,” Lorcan Salvaterre stumbled over his words, perhaps for the first time in his life, “I don’t mind making new memories, as long as they’re with you.” 

You beamed. Fenrys laughed. He debated how upset you would be if he killed the other male. 

Other male. 

He knew, already, that he’d have to share you. 

For you, Lorcan could and would make anything work. You were worth everything, absolutely everything. 

Maeve, a voice whispered in his mind. He pushed it down, ignored it for now. That was an ... his Queen would never be an issue, but a situation he could deal with at a later date. 

He swore to himself he’d never make fun of a mated male again. Technically he wasn’t mated yet, but he would be ... soon, he had to be. Being your mate felt like an irrevocably necessary part of his soul, like he might die without it, without having that bond with you to tether him to this world and give him meaning. Meaning he’d been lacking his entire life. 

He didn’t know or care if Fenrys felt the same way but he supposed he should. He had an obligation to his mate’s mate, after all, outside of the fact that Fenrys is his bloodsworn brother. 

Bloodsworn.

His bones and blood chilled. He couldn’t be yours, not really. The realization threatened to bring tears to his eyes, but he couldn’t cry, not here - not in front of you. You needed him strong. 

He stood, abruptly, but didn’t care. He jerked his chin to Fenrys. “We need to talk,” he let his eyes say the rest. 

He found he didn’t like how some of the shine left Fenrys’s, how they dulled at the implication of their Queen’s existence. Too bad, for now. 

“Great. Secrets,” you muttered, and a slight smile threatened his lips, but you still waved them away. Perhaps you understood secrets better than anyone else. 

Lorcan led Fenrys to an adjacent room, and their shields went up at the same time. To keep any nosy females from overhearing. The more she knew, the more danger she was in. At least they were on the same page. 

“Where is safe for her?” Fenrys started. 

At least he had his priorities straight. 

“Antica,” Lorcan answered. Maeve didn’t dare touch the southern continent, yet. “For now,” he added for honesty’s sake. “The curse won’t break until Maeve is ...” He didn’t, couldn’t bring himself to, speak the words out loud, it felt too much like treason. 

“Dead,” Fenrys said for him. He had no problem with it, apparently. If Lorcan had been as insolent as the male in front of him, he would’ve been put to death long ago, and he knew that. Perhaps Fenrys didn’t, but it wasn’t the time for that conversation. “So we spirit her away, and then what? How do we keep her from dying?” 

“A blood promise.” 

“Like what?” Fenrys leaned back against the wall, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. 

“When the curse is broken, we will find her.” 

Antica. Hot, miserable, mate-less Antica. In truth, it wasn’t that miserable, but you'd be enjoying yourself a lot more if your mates hadn’t shipped you off here as quickly as they could. 

All in the name of keeping you ‘safe,’ you grimaced in the mirror, brushing down your hair, now frizzy slightly from the rare rain that breezed in the day before. They're and gone like a phantom, almost. Almost like their presences in your life. 

You could still remember their touches from that last night, firm but gentle, still tentative like new lovers can be. You thought you knew everything about their touch from the past, but even they kept some surprises across multi-verses, or maybe it had just been a while since it had been the three of you and your memory was getting poorer. 

Probably that. 

You pushed the door open, throwing yourself into the throng of people making their way to the one of the several monthly markets in the city. Throng of people, you thought. It was awfully busy. 

‘War,’

‘Sending us-’

‘Saved the princess,’

‘Foreign lord.’ 

The whispers hit your ears one by one like a drum. A war. Against who?

You stopped casually at the closest table, and sure enough the seller was chittering to the person who came before you about it. A war, and the khaganate would be marching for Aelin Galathynius. 

You rolled the name over on your tongue, it being vaguely familiar. Perhaps you should have kept up more with politics throughout the ages, you probably could’ve made a load of money betting, but that felt a tad too immoral, and you did fear the judgement of your own conscience. 

As soon as the intrigue was there, it was gone. You’d heard of several wars over the last two decades, the longest you'd lived so far, and none of them had brought your mates back to you. You seriously doubted this would be the one. 

You refused to acknowledge the ugly truth. They’d probably already forgotten about you. 

-

In the lonely and mindless hours stuck in his Wolf form, Fenrys thought of the beautiful female in Antica, and dreamed of a life without Maeve, however impossible it was he never stopped hoping.

The female screamed on the table in front of him, but he was frozen in time and space. All he could do right now was bear witness to the horrible crime in front of him. Aelin Galathynius deserved someone to bear witness to her pain and her strength. 

The female who should’ve been his Queen, and the female who was his mate had so much in common. Not necessarily appearance, but your attitude and the way you carried themselves. So much that being with her for those months had felt like an even larger blessing. It wasn’t infidelity, not by any means, but perhaps a bit wrong he was using Aelin as a proxy for you. 

The screams in front of him distracted him from his thoughts and dragged him back to the present. She’d passed out, he was waking her with some foul smelling cloth. Each day, he thought he’d reached the limits of what he could bear without closing his eyes, but somehow - because he knew you would do it - he managed to watch. Witness. Wait. It was all he could do now. 

- 

Lorcan Salvaterre knew he was a miserable male to be around, but traveling through Varese had turned him downright sour. At least internally. 

He knew he needed to get to Aelin, and he knew he needed to get to Fenrys. For the bond they shared with each other that they’d never told a soul about. If he didn’t get to him, you’d never ever forgive him. 

He might be too much off a coward to tell you, but he would know in his soul and that’s enough. He’d find Fenrys, get her away from him, do whatever it took. 

-

You woke up one morning with an unusual lightness, a ‘pep’ in your step, so to speak. You’d never understood that phrase until then, when you felt like all of your burdens and issues had been freed in a spare moment, like nothing could weigh you down right then. 

As usual, you got your gossip through the market, and it all made sense. 

Doranelle has a new Queen. 

Queen Maeve was killed in Terrasen. 

You were free. 

You tilted your head up towards the sky, and let the sun shine down on your face, not caring you were stopped in the middle of the park. From the corner of your eye you spotted an older woman copying your movements, not in a mocking way, but in a yes the sun is quite nice today way.

The flip side of your freedom meant your mates would be coming soon. They’d be coming soon. 

To Antica. 

To you. 

You scrambled back to your apartment to start packing. How long did it take to get from Terrasen here?

You paused halfway through throwing your closet onto your bed. 

A letter would’ve arrived by now, but you’d received no such thing. 

That night you fell asleep on top of your clothes. 

The next day you built the courage to put them away. 

You didn’t know where in the world they were now that Maeve is gone, and perhaps with the curse lifting they felt they no longer were obligated to be with you and love you, and maybe -

A familiar scent hit the same time as a knock on your door. 

You rushed to it, throwing it open finding ...

Both of them. Your mouth parted, words not quite leaving your lips. Finally, you managed a lame, “you came.” 

“We promised,” Lorcan said “Can we come in?”��

Yes, they obviously could, you swung the door wider and ushered them inside. 

“We came as soon as we could,” Fenrys promised. 

The silence was awkward for a few moments as the three of you tried to figure out how to navigate this. But, it was easy enough to break as you threw yourself at both of them, managing to catch each of them in a hug at the same time. 

“I forgot to tell you before I left,” you started, muffled in the shirts but knew they heard you. You’d memorized these words long ago. “I spent so long looking for all of the things that would kill me, I forgot the ones that made me feel alive. Both of you made me feel alive. Thank you.” 

[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

And they were… in trouble

A/n: To get the full experience of this chapter it’s probably best to read part 3 before reading this 😊

Part 3: And they were…lovers. Wait really??

Part 2: And they were…strangers

Part 1: And they were…roommates

Summary: the arguments continue, will they ever solve them? Probably not because they can’t communicate even with Lokis dream

Words: 2K +

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI angst and sadness, no real reconciliation in this chapter, blood mentions

When Wanda left the house she saw you standing outside the car looking at the ground

“I don’t want to go home yet” Wanda said refusing to get into the car “please Wanda I don’t want to argue let’s just get you home” you got into the car waiting for Wanda but when she just stood there with her arms crossed you rolled your eyes and got back out of the car

“Why are you doing this?”

“You still want me” she said and you rolled your eyes “of course I still want you I mean look at you, even with no sleep, probably a little hungover and the same outfit on as yesterday, I would push you against the wall and bury my head between your thighs and devour you until you tried pushing me away

Wanda gasped “do it then, right now up against the wall between these houses” you approached her holding her waist tight and went to kiss her but pulled away at the last minute “no, now get in the fucking car Wanda, you need to sleep for your classes tomorrow”

Wanda was the one to push you away now “forget it, I’m not getting into the car with you if you’re going to act like this!”

She walked off into the direction she thought was correct, she actually didn’t care she just wanted to leave and you didn’t chase after her, you let your eyes close thinking about everything, fuck-

Loki pushed you to the ground suddenly and you jumped back up throwing him a small dagger hitting him in the neck “what’s your fucking problem?!”

The man discarded the dagger crushing it and throwing it to the ground “I know you saw my dream for you, you saw the exact same thing as Wanda and when she woke up she was thankful, you’re just being an asshole about it!”

“Maybe I don’t appreciate you interrupting my sleep for a stupid teenage fantasy”

Loki scoffed “you loved the dream, I saw you smiling and giggling through certain parts, why are you being so stubborn?”

You eyes darkened to their red colour and you glared at the man “maybe I’ve just realised that being here on earth living with a human in a shitty apartment isn’t what I wanted to do in my death”

Loki laughed pushing you to the ground again “don’t make me laugh, that sappy talk you had with Wanda last night ‘oh I’ve loved you ever since I saw you and when I told you I was a demon and you didn’t run away’ makes me sick, get a fucking grip Y/n either date her and be a happy little demon housewife or finally leave her alone for good”

You were pissed off, who was he to tell you how to live your death and how to be with Wanda, she wasn’t any of his business “go fuck yourself! And don’t you dare mention Wanda again!” You stood up and stormed off into the forest away from Loki

“You need to make up your damn mind!” He shouted to you not that you were paying attention

*************************************************

You were deep enough in the forest now knowing no one would be around or if they were they wouldn’t be for long. Letting yourself kneel to the ground and close your eyes you felt it, the snapping of your spine and feeling the wings emerge from your back, blood running down your back, the feeling of your wings stretching and finally being free after so long

You stood up enjoying the feeling of your wings being free and you let out a happy sigh “oh I’ve missed this” your head throbbed and tore open revealing your spiralling horns

“I’ve missed being a real demon” your mind fogged and you felt all the pain and sadness disappear from your body and you’d never felt more alive, you needed to find someone, you needed to find Valkyrie and have the fun that you deserve.

************************************************

“Y/n?” Lucifer eyed you nervously as you entered the club in your demon form, knowing it hadn’t happened in a while “are you feeling some big feelings? Do we need to have a grown up talk and work out some anger?”

You laughed pushing through the devil and going to the other woman at the bar “hi Val”

“Y/n, you’re looking good” she pulled you into her lap “where’s Carol?” You didn’t really care but you thought it would be pleasant to ask “she’s in hell for a few months so I’m all lonely up here, just waiting for a winged demon with a dark desire in her eyes to take care of me”

You laughed “well here I am, come on I want to go hunting before I devour you, nice and blooded for me” your mouths met in a hot kiss and you groaned finally being kissed properly by a demon and not those plain humans you’ve been kissing but your good time was soon interrupted

“As erotic and as sexual as this is what the fuck is going on?”

You turned your head towards the king of hell “I missed being a demon, now are you coming hunting or are you just being a boring bastard?”

He fake gasped “how dare you of course I want to come hunting, nice to have my favourite demon back”

*********************************************

Wanda had managed to make it home but she didn’t want to go into the house, Natasha had left a note on the door telling her that she’d cleaned up as best she could and ordered her some hangover pizza.

So she lay on the grass outside the house looking up at the sky letting out a really heavy sigh, filled with so much emotion “maybe I should leave her alone, I’ll give her space”

You were interrupted by a rustling in the trees, a figure appearing, was it an animal? Wanda tried making it out and when she did her eyes widened

“What the-Y/n?!”

Wanda jumped back away from you and looked over your monstrous form, the horns, the wings and the blood dripping like rain droplets from your body, she’d never seen you like this

“Oh what a lovely lady you are, Y/n was right you look delicious” Wanda didn’t have time to react before the woman pinned her back down onto her back and looked at you.

“Go on Y/n I’ve got her pinned down she’s not going anywhere, take a drink like you’ve always wanted” Valkyrie had Wanda’s hands held together and even though Wanda was kicking with her legs all you had to do was straddle her to keep her still, so you did, leaning all your weight on her and smiling as some blood dripped onto her body

“Y-Y/n p-please, please don’t hurt me” she tried searching your eyes for any hesitation or remorse but there was nothing, just an empty sea of darkness

“You’ve hurt me so why shouldn’t I hurt you?” The deep gravely voice scared Wanda, yes you were a demon and yes she’d seen you angry but this was a whole new approach that scared her

“I’m sorry for hurting you Y/n please I do want to be with you! Please let’s just figure things out-

“Stop!” Your had enough, you’d had enough of everything she was saying and doing and you were going to take what you deserved

Leaning down to her face your hand gripped her chin pushing her face to side exposing her gorgeous neck, running your fangs over her pulse point made you vibrate, it was so exciting, so you sunk your fangs into her neck her blood filling your mouth and senses and fuck was it wonderful! She was delicious, she’d stopped thrashing and Valkyrie had let go of her hands coming next to you kissing your neck

“vos vultus calidum amica”

When you finally released the grip you had on Wanda you lifted your head and saw Wanda’s face, her pale weak face, oh god what had you done, the fog covering your mind clearing at the worse possible moment

You glared down at what you’d just done, you’d bitten Wanda, you’d taken her blood and now you were watching her slip into unconsciousness, no no! This wasn’t meant to happen you’d never hurt Wanda, even with everything that had happened you didn’t want to hurt her! Or did you? You were just angry and confused on what was going on you weren’t thinking straight

Quickly jumping off of her body and snatching her hands away from Val you picked her up and cradled her in your arms “Wanda Wanda please forgive I didn’t mean to hurt you I never wanted to hurt you like this I’m sorry I’m so so sorry, wake up please wake up”

The demon had never seen you so vulnerable before, in tears over a human, sure she’d heard the stories of you essentially becoming “soft” for the human but never like this “Y/n? Maybe we should take her to the hospital?”

You shook your head gently as if not to wake Wanda “and say What? Here’s a girl and she was bitten by a demon? Oh no its okay no need to file a report I’m the one that did it here have my teeth pictures, no I need to get her to the club, Dr banner will come and fix her”

“He’s not a human doctor-

“Doesn’t matter! I say he’ll fix her so he will!” You held Wanda close as Valkyrie held you both transporting back to the club

**************************************************

“I I don’t know what you want me to do Y/n I can’t fix an human, you’ve bitten her so she’ll probably wake up on her own-

“Leave” you whispered, Bruce, Valkyrie and Lucifer didn’t move

“Leave!” You shouted and the trio quickly left the room, you looked back at Wanda and noticed her shivering “oh my love I’m so sorry, I’m sorry for everything I’m an idiot I saw the dream that Loki made too and I loved it, I loved the build a bear thing that happened and the stupid little name buddy we gave him I-I can’t think of anything to say to help, just please wake up”

Obviously she didn’t wake up but you stayed with her, you refused to leave her side, it was only a couple of hours later when you woke up to some shuffling proving that she woke up “Wanda!”

You smiled but that smile quickly disappeared seeing Wanda’s scared face “Wanda? It’s me you’re safe”

“You bit me, you forcefully sucked my blood” her speech was slow and uneven but her words still hurt you “I-I’m sorry Wanda I was just so angry and confused my demon form took over and I couldn’t stop it” you tried coming closer to Wanda but she stood up from the bed still disoriented but she refused to let you see that

“I saw the dream too Wanda I saw everything-

“Stop. I heard you while I was unconscious, it doesn’t matter, I’m done, I can’t keep dealing with you, I can’t keep trying to be with you when you’re being so stubborn and unreasonable- just I’m going to my parents for a few weeks, they may not approve of most of my decisions but at least they don’t try and fucking kill me”

She left the room and you didn’t try and follow her knowing full well she wouldn’t want you too

Yep you’d definitely fucked all that up, maybe some time would help Wanda

*******************************************

“Wanda you don’t look so good” Natasha had picked Wanda up and per her request was driving her to the train station to go to her parents

Wanda shrugged “I’ve not slept and feeling down, of course I don’t look good

Nat didn’t respond to her angry quip and instead drove in silence finally reaching the station and getting out of the car waiting for Wanda

“Sorry Nat I’m just really stressed0

Nat shrugged “it’s okay you’ve had a bit of a rough time”

Wanda agreed “yeah it’s been terrible, but I hope it’ll get better”

*****************************************************

“Y/n you look terrible” lucifer casually mention as you flopped down onto his couch “yeah well it’s been a fucking rough week alright? So fuck off”

Your head suddenly started to throb and forced you to sit up and grip your head you heard screaming in your head, was it Wanda? Wanda was shouting for you?

“She’s shouting because you bit her and she’s strayed far from you, she’s bound to you forever now, really fucked up there didn’t you?” Lucifer laughed and you groaned

“She’s in so much pain, I’ve never felt pain like it, even my death wasn’t this bad”

“Go after her then, trust me if you leave it the pain will get worse”

************************************************

“Wanda!” Natasha rushed to her side as she threw up on the ground in front of her “Wanda are you okay?!”

The woman shook her head “I need Y/n”

“What?”

“I need Y/n! Fuck it’s hurts so much” her throat was on fire, she didn’t know why she wanted you but in her mind only you could fix her problems, only you could save her, at least that’s what her brain was telling her

Nat looked around in the nearly empty space and spotted a few people trying to hide from helping but then her eyes landed on you, you were here?? How? Did you know she was in pain?

“Nat give me Wanda” the girl shook her head “she said she didn’t want you”

You looked at Wanda who when she finally looked up at you nearly kept out of Nat’s arms “Y/n! Please I need you I don’t know what’s going on but I need to be with you”

“Nat please I don’t want to make a scene, give me Wanda before she collapses okay?”

Nat nodded and handed Wanda to you who wrapped herself around you like a spider monkey finally stopping crying and began falling asleep

“Nat go home, I promise to take care of her, drive safe”

You didn’t wait for an answer and just left with Wanda kissing her forehead “I’m so sorry again Wanda and I’m really sorry for what’s going to happen when you wake up”

[igbylicious]

Are you going to give spoilers for the next chapter?

ohhhh i hadn’t planned to but i mean… 👀 ask and ye shall receive 👀

here are the first ~650 words of the next part under the cut, as a lil teaser! no warnings, just San being the goodest boy ♡ & Mrs Yoon making a comeback uwu

By the time San gets back to the apartment building after his late afternoon gym visit, the sky is already darkening and a crisp smell hangs in the air from an autumn shower that recently passed by. It’s invigorating, keeping San bright and alert despite the satisfying ache in his body from his post-workout exhaustion.

He picks up the mail on his way back; including yours, of course. His key chain has been a little heavier for a good while now with yours added to the bunch, but he likes the weight and jingle of it in his hand.

San absentmindedly sifts through the mail as he waits for the elevator to come down. Finally the door opens with its familiar ‘ding’ — revealing one of San’s neighbours inside.

Mrs Yoon, to be exact.

“Oh! Hi, Mrs Yoon,” San says awkwardly, standing aside to let her through. He tries not to think about the last time he talked to the old lady, which only makes him think about it harder, an embarrassed heat burning under his skin.

Mrs Yoon gives him a crinkled smile as she steps out the elevator. “Hello, young man,” she politely greets him back.

There’s a cheeky glint in her eyes, and San can’t decide if it’s a mercy or a torment that she doesn’t acknowledge their previous conversation, leaving it all unspoken between them. Instead she simply wishes San a pleasant evening and starts to walk past him, going about her business without embarrassing him any further.

It’s probably intended as a mercy — but something nags at San as Mrs Yoon leaves, and he realises he can’t let her go just yet.

“Ah, Mrs Yoon, could you wait a moment? Please?” he asks. “There is something I’d like to talk about.”

She stops her little shuffle towards the exit, blinking at San in surprise. “Of course, dear. What’s on your mind?”

What’s on his mind? You. You are.

Specifically, the jaded resignation on your face when you’d brushed off San’s concern about Mrs Yoon’s boyfriend-comment; when you told him you’re used to it.

He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like that you need apathy to shield yourself from a world that’s oblivious to your lived experience at best, and at worst believes it’s something to be fixed. San isn’t naive; he knows he can’t take away society’s constant pressure for romantic attachment by himself. But there is something he can do right here and now.

Maybe today, he can be your shield instead.

“Um, Mrs Yoon, when we ran across you the other day… I just wanted to say, she’s not my girlfriend,” San says with calm warmth, a friendly smile on his face. Making it clear as politely as possible that he’s not starting a discussion, just stating a fact.

Mrs Yoon blinks at him in confusion, but then she breaks out in a smile of her own, filled with misplaced understanding.

“Ahhh, I see! And the other young man, he is not your boyfriend then, hm?” she grins slyly, like she’s in on some covert plot of secrecy. “I got it, your secret is safe with me. Though if I can give a piece of advice; a little more discretion wouldn’t hurt if you want to keep it a secret for much longer! If an old biddy like me has figured it out, then I can’t be the only one.”

San sighs a weary chuckle at the further misunderstanding. “No, no there’s no secrets. Wooyoung is my boyfriend,” he says, and Mrs Yoon’s confusion comes back tenfold. “But it’s different with her. We’re… We are friends. Really close friends. She’s very important to me.”

Something softens in Mrs Yoon’s face at San’s simple earnestness. She scratches her chin as she mulls it over, but eventually comes to a decision with a firm nod. “Hmm, well. Nothing wrong with that either, I suppose. Just as long as you three treat each other right.”

The safe politeness in San’s smile melts away, making way for honest happiness. “We do, Mrs. Yoon. Always.”

[fandomsandflyingstingrays]

It took Callum a minute to pinpoint what woke him. The ache in his chest, while acute, was no stronger than it had been when he’d slipped into sleep. The wind rustled the trees outside, but in a way that was gentle and static. A way that made the sharp, shuddering sounds coming from beside him all the more obvious in comparison.

“Rayla? Are you crying?”

He fully expected to push him away, to deny it. 

“Yeah,” she said instead. 

He sat up, and she did too, allowing him to wrap his arms around her from behind and hold her while the sobs wracked her body until her breathing evened and she leaned limply against him.

There was no point in asking why she was crying. But in Callum’s long experience with grief, he’d come to realize that waves were often brought on by different triggers, came to surface in different ways. It wasn’t always a bludgeon that knocked you flat with the overwhelming reality of absence. Too often, it was a million knives, each uniquely sharpened by a different memory or missed experience, all of them ready to cut you in a different way than the last. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked softly.

“My mom’s moonberry surprise. You can get it at any café in the Silvergrove, and Ethari always made it for my birthday, but no one made it quite like her.” A wet, mirthless laugh tore from her throat. “Isn’t that stupid? She and my dad are gone forever, and I’m thinking about food. I mean— I had years to get over all this after they were banished. I’ve been getting along without them all this time. I don’t know why it’s all hitting me all over again.”

Callum bit his lip, trying to call on the part of him that had been born from a poet, trying to call on the words that would make her feel not only understood but heard. 

“My first memory of my dad is also my last one,” he said softly.

Rayla stiffened in his arms, turning around to look at him.

“It’s actually my first memory ever. Mom told me Dad was holding me, and she was holding him, so we were all together in a knot. It’s really hazy, but I can feel… arms around me, this sense of warmth. This wet breathing— my dad, probably, or maybe my mom crying. And then… stillness.” Callum sighed. “My only memory of my dad was of him dying. I shouldn’t miss him, right? I’ve lived my whole life without him, practically, and I had Harrow to fill in the gaps he left. But there are… times when I want to be held, but no one does it quite right. Foods that my mom says I’ve loved all my life, things he made, that just don’t taste as good as they should. Conversations I have with him when I can’t sleep, even though I have no idea how he’d reply.”

He paused, waiting for Rayla to step on the bridge he’d built between them, to offer her own feelings on the difference between her birth parents and her adoptive ones, the ways grief had crept into her own life. Instead, her response came from an entirely different quarter. 

“Your very first memory,” she rasped, “is of being left.” She closed her eyes tightly. “I told myself I was being so noble, so sacrificing, and I left you. Just like our parents did to us.”

Callum cupped her face and gently brought it to his, pressing a quick, soft kiss against her lips. “No, you didn’t,” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers. “You’re right here.”

Feeling her brow wrinkle in confusion, he pulled back and took her hand, tugging her to her feet. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk.”

They slipped out of the Nexus’s guest bedroom and into the garden, wrapping their arms around each other as a defense against the chill in the wind. Rayla followed him silently down a stone stairwell, coming to a stop with him when they reached the metal bench at its base. 

“Do you remember this place?” Callum asked.

She nodded. “It’s where we really talked for the first time about what happened to the king.”

“That’s right.” Callum drew her down to sit on the bench, facing him, in the exact position they’d been in two years before. “That day… it was the worst day I’ve ever had, aside from when I found out about my mom. Even worse than the day I read your letter. Because being left by someone is awful, but there’s nothing worse than knowing for certain they’re never coming back. Of course you’re grieving your parents, Rayla. It’s a different kind of loss.

“I was so angry with you when you first came back, because as the years had gone by, I’d begun to believe you were the second kind of gone, and it was almost too much to bear. I thought, if I pushed you away, I wouldn’t have to deal with that kind of pain again. But the day I got the news about Harrow, when I felt like the emptiness inside me was going to eat me alive, do you know the only thing that made me feel better? It was your arms around me. It was knowing that no matter how much pain I was in, I would still have a champion to fall back on, someone brave and kind and devoted who would always be there to help me carry the weight if it got to be too much.” He leaned forwards and kissed her forehead. “And I was right.”

Rayla had started to cry again, and he gently wiped the tears away. “You were always intending to come back, and you did. I never should have pushed you away, and I’m so glad you never let me. I’m so glad you’re still here. And Rayla, I’m going to be here too. Dealing with this, knowing your parents are really gone for good, it’s not going to be easy. It’s always going to hurt. But I’m going to do everything I can to help you bear it, and I’m going to build a life with you around it. As long as we’re together, we’ll find a way through.”

“And we will be together.”

Rayla’s tears had dried, and her voice was fierce. She took his hand tightly in both of hers and pressed a firm kiss against it. 

“No more losses,” she vowed. 

“Been there, done that,” he agreed, and she actually managed a tiny smile.

“I’m scared,” she admitted. “I don’t know what comes next. But no matter what it is, I’m going to be right by your side. I promise.”

The corners of Callum’s lips turned up too. “It’s a deal.”

She wrapped her arms around him, and he held her tightly, catching her as she’d caught him, as he knew with a glowing certainty they would do for each other as long as they were able. And they stayed there, fortified against the cold, against the ache of lost souls and the terror of distant smoke, until the first rays of a sunrise blanketed them with their warmth.

[saintsenara]

would you want to elaborate more on your thoughts on Alan Rickman as Snape? I'd love to hear more of your take on it. I dislike him in the role so much and it's insanely difficult to actually have a conversation about it sometimes because of how much some people like movie!Snape in large parts of the fandom

I have so many gripes with what happened to Snape, from how movie!Alan!Snape is a completely separate character to book!Snape (and how less flawed movie Snape overshadows the much more interesting and gray book version), how much I dislike his acting choices in certain moments to how much I dislike how he sees and describes the character in interviews

I've never heard of the diaries you mentioned, what did he say in them? I'm honestly also just curious if he even read any of the books because some of the things I've heard him say really make me doubt it 😭

there are dozens of us!

and i have no issue with being a #hater on the public timeline. for fun and profit.

but i'm actually going to start with two bits of rickman defending [it's giving diplomat].

the fact that the adult cast of the films was massively aged up in comparison to their book versions makes perfect sense. each individual film not only needed to be accessible for people who’d never read the books, but for people who'd never seen another film in the sequence - and so having a visual distinction between harry and james’ generations is completely necessary. we - as people who are undeniably more invested in the series than the average person - know that the great tragedy of the later books is that james and lily died so young that harry looks virtually indistinguishable from his father as he walks into the forest. but that doesn’t always work on screen…

it also doesn't bother me unduly that rickman doesn't physically resemble the canon snape. plenty of actors don't look anything like the characters they give brilliant performances of [and not only fictional characters, but real people], and it doesn't matter in the slightest - being an exact physical match for a character says nothing about an actor's ability to portray what they're like.

which is where my beef with film!snape starts...

the thing that never hits for me is that rickman plays snape - regardless of the situation he finds himself in - as emotionally repressed, cold, and controlled.

[even down to the costume - he was behind the decision to have snape be, literally, buttoned up].

i simply don't know how anyone could read the books and come away with this impression of snape without having fundamentally misunderstood the character. snape is incredibly emotionally demonstrative! he’s the male character other than harry - the literal narrative perspective - whose emotional state is described the most frequently! and his emotional state is always described in terms which make clear that he’s someone who feels very deeply and who registers his emotions clearly on his face!

rickman's version of snape bears no resemblance to this - and it means that his portrayal of two key aspects of snape's canon character always feels flat to me.

the first is snape's main negative trait - his cruelty. something is really lost in the fact that film!snape's cruelty is reduced to something arch and precise - and that it doesn't have the petty, childish, vindictive tone that it does in the books.

and the second is - of course - the experience which defines snape's canon arc - his grief. this is so inextricably bound up in the state of arrested development - still living at school! still beefing with people he knew when he was fifteen! - that the absence of snape's childish side in rickman's performance means that the way he portrays snape's grief is always going to feel half-baked.

and - specifically - rickman's emphasis on emotional repression in every aspect of snape's character undermines the fact that - in canon - snape's mingled love, grief, and guilt for lily is the only emotion he goes out of his way to repress, which allows the revelation of his feelings for lily in deathly hallows to actually feel like a mystery being solved.

snape is an interesting character precisely because he's so... feral - and rickman’s buttoned-up, suave, nowhere-near-as-gratuitously-mean-as-he-should-be take on him is the cause of many of the least complex and least compelling fanon!snapes [in particular, the snape prominent in pairings with female partners in which he’s kind, sophisticated, romantic, and definitely not really ugly].

the snapewives phenomenon was incredible, though. fair play to him for inspiring that.

when it comes to the diaries... what's complicated is reconciling two particular truths.

on the one hand, a diary is inherently a space for a person to record their private thoughts [they were published with the consent of his family, but they weren't originally written with the intention that they'd be published] - and, therefore, to record impolite, unpleasant, or unadmirable thoughts which they wouldn't express in person. rickman's diaries are incredibly whiny - and often quite unkind - but it's clear that this isn't because he was particularly whiny or unkind in person. obviously, it's a good and healthy thing that, if someone was pissing him off at a dinner party, he was cordial to them in conversation and saved that he thought they were an idiot for his private diary!

but, on the other hand, there are several threads which run through these private thoughts which made it impossible for me not to feel considerably less fond of him.

[sjsmith56]

A Better Man, Part 2 - Foundation

Summary: After talking with her best friend, Natasha, Andrea reconsiders Bucky’s offer. Natasha visits the offices of Barnes Contracting to meet Bucky, coming to her own conclusions about the nature of the business.

Length: 4.6 K

Characters: Andrea, Brock Rumlow, Natasha Romanoff, Mrs. Parker, Steve, Sam, Bucky.

Warnings: Flashback of Rumlow is not pleasant, grief over a relative’s death, Natasha’s suspicious nature (with reason), otherwise mostly fluff.

Author notes: Andrea’s backstory is revealed. Dumbass alert.

<<Part 1

Part 2

As soon as Bucky suggested Andrea move in with him, she immediately thought of Brock. It wasn't fair of her to compare the two men; she knew that, but Brock had used the exact same words within days of them meeting each other.

"Move in with me," he said, his hands firmly on her arms. "Baby, I'll take good care of you. Whatever you want is yours."

"But I hardly know you," she replied, looking up at his rugged face. "We've only had a couple of dates. Isn't moving in together kind of fast?"

"Not if it's meant to be," he smiled. He rubbed her arms, his bicep muscles practically straining against his suit jacket. "Listen, if you want to take a trial run, we can do that. Stay with me for the week."

"What will I tell my parents? I still live with them."

He smiled, his hands moving down to her waist and pulling her close to him. It was possessive, yes, but there was no denying that he exuded a masculine energy that thrilled her in a very primal way.

"Tell them you're house sitting for a friend," he suggested. "She has a pet that can't be left alone." He bent his head towards her neck, scratching it a little with his stubble as his warm breath raised goosebumps down her arms. "It will be a week you'll never forget."

He hadn't lied about that part. For a week Brock treated her like a queen. Out for dinner every night at restaurants she could only imagine about going to before she met him. Then on to clubs, walking past the lineups and being allowed in without so much as a second glance. It was heady stuff, and she totally got caught up in it. The sex was amazing, although a little on the rough side and he didn't always use a condom because they interfered with the experience for him or it took too much time to put on, but he was so masculine and unlike anyone Andrea had ever met. Then, in the few weeks after she went back home to live, promising to seriously consider his offer, Brock Rumlow began pulling away from her.

"Sorry, baby, but I gotta work tonight."

How many times did she hear that excuse? Seriously, how much work did a so-called contractor need to do at night? Then there were the dates he cancelled by phone. She could hear the club music in the background as he made up all sorts of excuses why they couldn't go out. Until he stopped phoning completely, around the same time she began feeling sick. Except she wasn't sick, she was pregnant. She showed up at the building where she first saw him. The large overhead door was open this time and she could see many cars inside, all in various states of repair, or so she thought. He was standing out front with several of the employees, smoking and laughing at some joke.

"What are you doing here?"

That's what he said to her, in a tone that wasn't very friendly. No hello, no how have you been, just a question asked in such a way that she knew he didn't want to see her. He agreed to sit in her car so they could have a private conversation, and she told him about being pregnant. He laughed ... he actually laughed.

"You're sure it's mine?"

She wanted to hit him then, to spit in his face, claw his eyes out, call him every name in the book but he didn't even give her that opportunity, because he got out of her car, then leaned in before he shut the door.

"Don't call me or show up here anymore. I got nothin' to say to you."

That was it. She was set adrift and when she told her parents they pushed the boat even further from shore, telling her to find somewhere else to live. She packed her bags and went to her grandmother's house. That woman, bless her heart, took her in with a warm hug, made her cocoa, then listened to her cry her heart out.

"What are you going to do about the baby?"

She could get an abortion. Certainly, she was pro-choice, as was her grandmother. But it was a choice and something deep inside her said she wanted this, even if the father was a lousy, no good, lying son-of-a-bitch, motherfucker. So, she decided to have the baby and began laying the foundation to have her own family. Screw her parents. Screw Brock Rumlow. She and Grandma would be the parents of this child, with no regrets of any kind.

Lily was born, with her namesake grandmother at Andrea's side during the birth, an amazing woman who gave her comfort. It was wonderful to see them together; great grandmother and great granddaughter, two lilies of the field, as the elder Lily often said. Then she died, a heart attack as she prepared her garden in early spring, and once again Andrea was set adrift, alone in a stormy sea, except for the light that her daughter gave her. When she found out that her grandmother left her everything, she vowed to live as the older woman had; fully engaged and loving the world with all of its beauty. If it were only that simple.

After Bucky left, Andrea locked the door then picked up her phone and called her best friend, Natasha. When she answered it took all of Andrea's willpower not to cry.

"Why are you calling so early?" asked her closest friend. "Aren't you supposed to be in the middle of a date?"

"I told him to go," she answered. "Nat, he asked me to move in with him."

There was silence for a bit. "Okay. Maybe give me some context."

Andrea explained how dinner was fun and then they began to look at the areas of the house that needed fixing. He identified a new roof, new windows in the one bedroom, a possible exterior leak for the ceiling stain in the corner of the living room, then the big one.

"The electrical panel," stated Natasha, already knowing the biggest issue of the house. "What did he say?"

"Exactly what you said. Copper and aluminum don't mix, the fix is expensive and would require that we move out. I told him I didn't have anywhere else to go and he offered me a room in his apartment. He even said we could work out payment and emphasized that he wasn't trying to take advantage of me. Said he would be willing to be the general contractor for it and handle the tradespeople."

"Hold on a second," said her friend. "Unlike that Sitwell jerk, he told you the truth about the extent of the work needed for your place, and he can find you the right people to do the job. Then he offered you a place in his home, with no strings attached. How dare he be a guy trying to be nice."

"I know, I know," sighed Andrea. "When he asked me to move in, I had a flashback to Brock, and you know how that turned out."

"Yes, ultimately, you ended up with a baby girl who is the light of your life, that everyone adores because she is the cutest little flower in the world."

"You think I should have said yes to him." Andrea braced herself for the answer she knew was coming.

"Yes! Not every guy is trying to get into your pants. There are gentlemen out there and you just tossed one aside because you're still dealing with how Brock hurt you."

Of course, Natasha was right. Bucky had been a gentleman with her the entire evening. Even when the light in the basement burnt out, he had held her respectfully, not taking advantage of her in the dark. He left without complaining and apologized for offending her with his offer. There had been no name calling, or faux outrage, or anything that indicated he was anything other than a nice guy. Andrea groaned. She didn't even give him a chance. The roses were on the table, and she looked at them.

"What do lavender roses mean?" she asked Natasha, who was into that stuff.

"Love at first sight," said her friend, a little too quickly. "Did he bring you lavender roses?"

"Yeah. That's not being pushy, is it?"

"Did he say he loved you?"

"No, but he did say he liked me, a lot."

They didn't say anything to each other while they contemplated what it all meant.

"I think you need to talk to him. At least, lay down some ground rules and see how he reacts to that."

"Okay," breathed Andrea. "Tomorrow, I'll go see him. Wait, I can't. Lily is getting vaccinations tomorrow and she'll be grumpy for the rest of the day. I'll see him the day after."

"You promise?"

Andrea promised then ended the call. She would go see Bucky again.

The next day

Natasha looked at the building wondering if this was the right place. There was no exterior sign but when she looked up Barnes Contracting on Google this was the address she was given. It was in a decent neighbourhood by the looks of the buildings around them. They were all in good repair and this building, although plain in appearance, seemed well maintained. With a quick breath, she pushed open the door, seeing a standard reception area. There were four doors leading elsewhere; two of them closed and two open. A nice-looking dark-haired lady was stationed at the desk.

"Good morning," she said pleasantly. "How can I help you?"

"I wish to speak with Bucky Barnes."

The lady's eyes flickered briefly to one of the closed doors. "He's not available at the moment. May I ask what it's about?"

"I've come to talk to him about a mutual acquaintance," replied Natasha. "Andrea Hart."

"I can help the lady, Mrs. Parker," said a man's voice and the red head looked at one of the open doors. For a moment, Natasha forgot everything about Andrea as she gazed upon the tall, muscular blond man who stood in the doorway. He was impressive, with his sleeves rolled up and several dark tattoos visible on his forearms. "Is Miss Hart alright?"

"Yes and no," answered Natasha. She looked at one of the closed doors. "Is he here?"

"Yes and no," smiled the blond man. "I'm Steve. Please, come into my office, Miss ...?"

"Romanoff, Natasha is fine," she said, moving towards him.

He stepped back to let her past him.

"Mrs. Parker, would you let Sam know of our visitor when he arrives but don't say anything to Bucky just yet." He winked at her. "I don't think he's in a mood to listen to reason at the moment."

"Of course," smiled the older woman. "I'll handle him."

Steve closed the door, waiting for Natasha to sit before he did, then took her appearance in; the red hair, attractive and fit body, her determined face. He had noticed the effect his appearance had on her and to be fair she made him feel all sorts of things in return. If he had met her elsewhere, they would have already been flirting and probably making out but if she was here about Andrea and Bucky, then he needed to focus on the task at hand.

"I'm going to bypass any formalities and assume you're here to get Bucky and Andrea talking."

She smiled and the warmth inside of him spread a little further.

"You could say that. She called me after she told him to leave. I wanted to explain to him why she said what she said."

"I'm listening." Natasha reacted to that phrase, frowning at him, so he clarified. "Bucky is my best friend. We've known each other since we were boys. I bug the life out of him, but I love him like a brother. He hasn't had the best track record with women, and we thought he and Andrea might have something special beginning. When she kicked him out of her house last night, he took it hard. He's been quite the bear this morning."

Tilting her head slightly, Natasha considered his words and decided to trust him. There was something in the way he carried himself that seemed sincere.

"She had a flashback to her previous boyfriend, the one who got her pregnant and wouldn't acknowledge the baby as his. It scared her because he asked her to move in with him after only a couple of dates, then ghosted her a few weeks later, just before she began getting morning sickness."

Steve nodded his head in sympathy. "It's understandable that Bucky's offer would set off all sorts of warning bells."

The door opened and Sam came in asking about that shipment of tablet computers they were handling. Then he saw Natasha and clamped his mouth shut before blurting out an apology.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you had company."

"Didn't Mrs. Parker say anything about our visitor?"

"She's in the break room, I think. Who do we have here?"

His flirting smile made Natasha grin. Him mentioning a shipment of tablet computers meant these guys were definitely not legit, but they were still quite charming in a roguish sort of way.

"Natasha," she replied, holding out her hand to him. He bent over it and kissed her knuckle. "Andrea's best friend."

Sam stopped kissing her fingers then looked up. "Is she alright?"

Withdrawing her hand from his she smiled mysteriously. "I'll say one thing about you two. You're both concerned about Andrea."

"We like her, and Lily is adorable," said Steve. He looked at Sam. "She said Andrea had a flashback to Rumlow and that's what made her say no to Bucky's offer."

"Well, that makes sense," said Sam, plopping down on another chair. "How are we going to fix this?"

"You guys know about Rumlow?" Natasha looked from one to another. Of course, they would know him or of him. "He's with the competition, isn't he?" The two men looked at each other nervously, making her laugh. "I kind of had you made when I didn't see a sign on your building. You're on Google but what kind of contracting business doesn't have a sign? Obviously, one that doesn't like to have attention drawn to it, at least not the normal kind of attention."

"We're on Google?" Sam searched his phone, then jumped up and left the office.

She and Steve smiled politely at each other, not speaking, then Sam came back in. "We'll take care of that." He turned to Natasha again. "So, how do we get this situation between Andrea and Bucky resolved?"

"Well, I talked her into coming in to see him, and explaining why she turned him down, but she can't do it until tomorrow, as Lily is getting her six-month vaccinations today."

Sam winced. "Poor little thing. She's going to be very grumpy." He noticed Natasha smiling at him. "I have nephews, and I remember." He had a wistful look on his face, then he shook it off. "Go on."

"I guess you just have to make sure he sees her and gives her a chance to explain." She shifted in her seat. "He is serious about her, isn't he? She can't take being abandoned again. First Brock, then her parents kicked her out when she told them she was pregnant. Her grandmother took her in but died when Lily was a month old. She's named after Andrea's grandmother."

Both men were listening to her in rapt silence. It was kind of sweet, actually, reinforcing Natasha's belief that despite their obvious occupations, these men were decent. Steve breathed out.

"We'll make sure he listens to her, won't we Sam?"

The other man nodded emphatically. Feeling that she had accomplished what she wanted Natasha stood up, surprised when the two men stood up immediately with her. They had manners; she was a sucker for manners.

"I'm going to go," she said. "It was nice to meet you, Steve, Sam."

She held her hand out to shake theirs. Steve held her hand for several long seconds.

"Are you seeing anyone?" he asked.

"No, are you?"

"No. We could grab a bite to eat sometime, if you like food."

Sam almost choked, putting his hand up in apology as he tried to breathe.

"I like food," replied Natasha, ignoring Sam's outburst. "What about him?"

"Let him find his own date."

"I have another friend," she said.

"Yeah?" Sam's grin split his face. "Is she nice?"

"You want nice instead of beautiful?"

He shrugged, the grin still on his face. "Being nice makes a woman beautiful. That's my philosophy. I think you're nice."

Natasha felt her cheeks go warm. These guys were on another level. Going out with them could be a lot of fun or the biggest mistake of her life. She chose fun, grabbing a post-it note and writing down her phone number.

"Call me when you've set something up and I'll bring my nice friend," she said. "We're not into the club scene all that much but do like to be appreciated and treated with respect."

"We can do that," replied Steve. "It was nice meeting you, Natasha. We'll get Bucky and Andrea sorted out."

She waited for Sam to open the door for her, noticing he let her out first. Their manners were doing all sorts of things to her. Mrs. Parker was at her desk.

"I was going to say I hadn't seen Sam yet, but it looks like he found you," she said. "Bucky hasn't come out at all."

"Thank you, Mrs. Parker," smiled Steve. "We've got it covered. If Miss Romanoff here, calls or phones again, you can just refer her to me. I'll talk to her anytime."

"Good to know," the older woman smiled, then answered the phone. "Barnes Contracting, how may I help you? I'm sorry, he's not taking calls at the moment. Would you like to speak with Mr. Rogers or Mr. Wilson?" She put her hand on the microphone of the handset. "Sam? Line 1. It's about that shipment ... you know, that special shipment?"

"Right." He saluted Natasha and ducked into his office, closing the door, leaving her and Steve in the reception area.

Escorting her outside, Steve stood with his hands in his pockets, suddenly unsure of what to say.

"Do you do any legitimate contracting work?" she asked delicately, voicing what she suspected.

"Yes, the three of us do have our general contractors' licences and we earned them the right way, with a lot of hard work and study," answered Steve. "It's a competitive business so we have to be open to alternative revenue sources at times. Bucky's grandfather started the business, then his mother took over before handing it off to him. She's kind of like a mother to all three of us, making sure we conduct ourselves properly." He looked squarely at her; his blue-green eyes focused solely on her. "Is that a problem?"

"Maybe yes, maybe no." She shook her head as if she were deciding something. "I believe that all three of you have a line that you won't cross, which is good. You do care about each other and I'm sure you care about Andrea. I just don't want her to be hurt again."

His face softened. "We want the same thing. A woman badly hurt Bucky a few years ago, and it's made him uncertain at times, especially at how some of the compromises he's had to live with would make most women walk away. But he is honest; I swear to God. I could see him leaving the compromising nature of our business behind if he had the right partner in life. Sam and I think Andrea could be that person. She would be worth it."

She didn't know why she did it but Natasha suddenly kissed Steve on the cheek, then she walked away, turning back once to see that he still watched her from in front of the building. If she wasn't careful herself, she could easily fall for him. That might cause all sorts of problems.

The day after that

Natasha was called into work, so Andrea had to bring Lily with her to see Bucky. She walked towards Barnes Contracting, surprising the people along that route who noted it wasn't her usual day to walk there, especially on a day like today, when rain was forecast. Was she that predictable in her walking routine? It was threatening to rain. Maybe, she should go back. But she did promise Natasha that she would speak to Bucky and she knew her friend wouldn't accept a little rain as a reason for not going. Finally arriving at the building, she began to panic then the door opened to a dark-haired lady looking at her with motherly concern.

"Miss Hart? Is everything alright?"

"Yes ... no," she admitted, wondering how this woman knew her name. "I think I changed my mind."

The older lady looked up at the sky. "Looks like it's going to rain at any moment. I think you should come inside and wait it out."

Almost on cue, the rain started to fall, and Andrea pushed the baby stroller past the woman and into the reception area, the first time she had been inside the building. It was plain but clean and certainly seemed well finished. As she stood just inside the door, the receptionist bent her head over the stroller, obviously taken by Lily, who was cooing up at her.

"She is such a darling," she crooned at the baby. "May I?"

With her permission, the woman picked up Lily, holding her in the crook of her arm as if she had held babies for most of her life. Lily responded as she usually did, with smiles, gurgles, and a fascination with everything around her. A closed door opened, revealing Bucky, who stared at Andrea and Lily, seemingly surprised to see them. The older lady looked at him with a smile.

"Bucky, your 10:00 is here. Go ahead Miss Hart. I can watch this little doll all day long."

He stepped away from his door, waiting for Andrea to approach and enter, then closed the door behind her, waiting for her to sit before he took his seat. For some time, he sat with his hands folded on the desk and his mouth set in a straight, grim line.

"You made an appointment?" he finally asked.

"No, I didn't," stammered Andrea. "I'm surprised she said that. I just walked here, almost didn't come in but it started to rain, and your receptionist said to wait it out inside, then your door opened and there you were."

Scowling a little, he sat back in his chair.

"We've been set up," he muttered. "They've drawn Mrs. Parker into this." He looked at her and sat forward again, trying to be friendlier. "I am so sorry that I sprung that on you. I really didn't have ulterior motives. It was just an offer to help you out because I know you're going through a difficult time."

Andrea shook her head. "It's okay. I overreacted. What you said was how Brock asked me to move in with him and I had a flashback to that moment." She clarified that statement. "Brock is Lily's father. We had only been out a few times before he asked me to move in with him. I talked him into a week's trial and within a week of moving back with my parents he began distancing himself from me. A week later he started ghosting me. Two weeks after that I found out I was pregnant, and he told me to leave him alone."

"Bastard," grumbled Bucky.

"I said worse about him," smiled Andrea. "I'm sorry I told you to leave. It really was a generous offer."

"It still stands," said Bucky, trying to keep a neutral tone to his voice and manner, while inside he could barely contain himself. "I'm in a position to help, that's all."

There was a knock on the door and Mrs. Parker came in with Lily. Instead of giving her to Andrea, she put her in Bucky's hands. He held her out at arm's length, unsure of what he should do with the baby.

"A shipment is here, and the language from the truck driver is atrocious," said Mrs. Parker. "I can handle it, but I don't think little ears should be assaulted by that kind of language." She smiled at him. "You can cradle her in your arms. She likes that."

Without another word she left the couple, and Bucky looked at Lily, then at Andrea, who was amused, knowing a setup when she saw one. Lily squealed and kicked her legs as Bucky settled back into his chair, trying to remember how his sister held her dolls when they were little. When he looked up at Andrea, she grinned.

"Not bad," she said. "Lily's happy."

"I've never held a baby before," he admitted. "It's kind of nice. She's a nice baby."

What he really meant with the second nice, was that she was a beautiful baby, and he was smitten. She likes me. Look at her. She's so beautiful and perfect. How could Rumlow not want this?

"So, um, I would like to take you up on your offer," said Andrea. "How do we do this? Should we sign some sort of agreement? You know, where we determine how we're going to share your apartment; who does what and when? I don't mind cooking but I'm not much for keeping a place looking perfect. It's hard with a baby and she sometimes keeps me up at night, so I would try to keep her quiet, but it doesn't always work that way. I think we should do our own laundry as I have enough with a baby to do it every day. I can contribute to groceries and even pay you rent, if you want."

He looked from Lily to Andrea, a laugh just bubbling away inside of him just trying to burst out.

"We can figure it out as we go along, can't we?" He put his finger near Lily's fist, smiling as she grasped it hard. "I'll get some of my guys to move the crib and anything else you want into my place. It's best if we put the rest of your possessions into storage while we're working on the renovations. I can tell you from experience, that some other problems might be revealed as we begin fixing your place. It's just a fact of life with these older brownstones. They're worth the investment though. They don't build them like they used to."

"Okay, we'll work it out as we go along," agreed Andrea. "Please, if it ever gets too much, tell me. Be honest."

"I will," he answered.

Outside, in the reception area, Mrs. Parker watched Bucky's door. When Sam and Steve walked in, noticing the baby stroller she put a finger up to her lips, then nodded her head while smiling. They gave each other a high five, then Steve texted Natasha that it seemed things were going to plan. The two men disappeared into their offices, attending to their normal workday routines.

Part 3>>

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[bringcal]

This was inspired due to wolfertinger666's post I've just reblogged, and will be a long one, but bare with me here.

I been on the internet like way too long and too young for my age, and I never understood spreading callouts. I don't think I ever have in my life. Before I even understood them as a tool used to socially kill trans people and push an agenda of anti-queerness, I always just thought the contents tended to be stupid, and vast majority of callouts often like to use different manipulation and deception tactics that the average person can easily be manipulated by. I think most abuse survivors can agree with me here that they have at least seen one callout in their lives where they have read and easily recognized what the person spreading the callout was doing was emotional manipulation.

I have always been that person who reaches out to the person subject of the callout to help them, and I've always been disgusted in the anti-critical thinking and pro-harassment sentiments surrounding callouts, because those are the exact same things that I've been subject to after being in an abusive relationship online.

When I talk to people victims of callouts, they often have the same fears as I do due to me being in an abusive relationship: Paranoia people are stalking you, not feeling safe to share anything, having to change identities to get away from the harassment, etc. And thats because people who make callouts and create harassment mobs use the same abuse tactics. I had to delete all my accounts, change names, interests, and stay off the internet for months to try and get away from my abuser, because he would stalk me and get others to do the same, and convinced everyone that I was the one being shitty. I stayed paranoid, and sometimes still do, that I will be "found" and messaged again even though its been 6 years since we broke up.

When you have experience yourself in this sort of thing, you realize people who change their identities to get away from callouts aren't trying to "get away" due to nefarious reasons. they just want to live and grow, they want an actual support system and to be better, and never consented to their faults being publicized, and a lot of the time their faults being put on them have never even happened, or are blown out of proportion. It started to click when you realize callouts often try their best to dehumanize the person at hand, and really try to hammer in the " born inherently evil" or "too far gone" point to get people to socially outcast their victims. It often works even with people who would normally be against that sort of thing, I notice a lot of people end up deleting the callout they helped spread later saying they don't actually care or realize how ridiculous the op is being, without realizing the op still got what they wanted. Callouts only spread if theyre able to get you to that " reactionary " level of emotion to manipulate you to just doing anything.

People don't realize that the thing theyre doing actually has lasting effects on the other person. The thing you reblog that you care about for 2 days and then forget will follow the other person forever, because TERFs and Kiwifarms motherfuckers are a different breed of passionate for harassment. My IRL bestfriend I've known for a decade has a girlfriend who made a joke 6 years ago that went viral that everyone took seriously and she still, to this day, gets messages harassing her. The joke wasnt even offensive or directed at anyone, people literally just hated her because she was a communist.

So anyways, I don't like callout posts and neither should you. Make no exception. Literally just keep it to yourself and gossip with friends. Reactionary harassment campaigns do nothing. You're one "fuck up" or one "walking into the wrong person" to getting one yourself. Don't allow callout makers to turn your brain off.