#if there are any typos please do tell; I tried writing this all down at 1 AM in a uni night

[sapphicautumn]

Afterthought. EW.

synopsis: Ellie and you go on your regular scheduled patrol, but when danger is found, it leaves you both in shambles - realising you could lose each other at any time.

Pairing: Bestfriend!ellie x Fem reader. WLW

Contents: fluff, friends2lovers? Smut. Emotional constipation. Swearing, and whatever else lmk if I forgor 💀

A/N: hey! This is actually my first ever time writing on tumblr, I’m usually a silent reader of the tags, so this is a bit nerve wracking for me lol. There’s not a lot of Bella Ramsey Ellie fics on here- so I hope you like it. I am writing on my phone as I’m currently on the train ride home- ignore any typos, that’s on my tired ass. If you enjoy, please reblog and thank you for reading 🥨

Men and minors DNI

“You don’t need to collect every flower you see, you know that? Right?”

Ellie’s voice teased, guiding shimmer as she rode the brown horse around you, eyes gazing down as she tried to bite a smile back.

“Let me be” your voice hummed, picking up dandelions from the ground. You kept a book back at home in Jackson with stamped flowers you find on patrol. It always provided some form of comfort? That although there’s so much evil in this current situation of the world, beauty still grows.

Ellie didn’t get it. She didn’t get a lot of things, but that’s why you love her.

“Cmonnn get back on the damn horse, patrol will last forever the longer you drag it out” Her voice rang, pulling the lead of the horse to a halt. She always spoke in what others would call a sarcastic tone, but it was what you knew her to always sound like. It’s just Ellie, she’s not intimidating to you. Quite the contrary.

You both met 3 years ago now, when you had joined Jackson with just your mom in search of a safe haven. Being close in age, you found yourself hanging with Dina first, who eventually introduced you to her own group of friends; Jesse & Ellie.

You all would hang out every night basically, spending time at each others houses, or at the tipsy bison, or even sometimes hiding behind jesses house while he attempted to roll joints that never quite came out the way you guys wanted.

“You should be kicked out of the town for that” dina would say, gesturing to the pathetic roll that laid in front of her.

Somewhere along the way, Jesse and Dina found themselves getting closer. Them starting to date wasn’t a shock to Ellie and you. It was obvious how much they liked each other. Previous group activities turned into paired plans of just you and her, it provided you to grow quite close.

She was always gruff and protective of her own self. The walls she built were tall and made of thick brick. Although not thick enough apparently, as your soft exterior was able to chisel in, seeing a side of Ellie most of the town doesn’t take time to know.

If anyone were to ask, you’d say Ellie is your best friend, your patrol buddy, Curtis to your viper. The list goes on.

Ellie on the other hand, …..feels like a perverted creep, as there’s a side you could have never guessed possessed the girls mind….and journal.

“She’s too sweet…I don’t even think she’s into girls and I’m being so weird!!!!! I probably scare her omg, don’t realise I look at her too long until she says sumthing…She didn’t want to hang out tonight. I think her being “sick” was an excuse”

Her hand would cramp as she pressed the pencil harder to the paper, writing at her desk in the comfort of Joel’s garage.

“We were at the bar just yesterday. I walked behind her to get to my seat. Her hair smelled like vanilla. How does she do that?? Jesse and her talked about some stupid show idk the name. He looked at her like he wanted her. He has dina. I’m in no position to be jealous but LITERALLY fuck off j-“

Ellie’s eyes widened, the tip of her pencil snapping with the force of which she wrote. It’s time for bed anyways.

She never planned on telling you, in fact, she got used to the idea of dying a single lady, if it meant you also died one. Think among the lines of “if I can’t have you, no one will”. Yeah. That’s what she’s got going on.

So she bit her tongue anytime she saw you dress up cute for events, trying to be nonchalant whenever you’d bake her and Joel banana bread, or when she’d get home after a night at the bar, trying to smack out the imaginary of what you’d look like on her bed from within her brain. What the fuck is wrong with you? And why’re you so ….you? She almost wish you weren’t in Jackson so she wouldn’t have to worry about having a crush that felt so juvenile it made her itch to the core.

Lips. Are. Sealed.

The two of you rode shimmer down the designated path, the grass worn down from how many people have came down this exact way within the past few weeks.

“I think we should check out the abandoned house over there” your hand would gesture across before resuming to holding Ellie’s waist.

“I mean…we really don’t need to, you insist on all these side quests and-”

“Ellie I know damn well you got nothing better to do once we get back except for sleep. I wanna go check. Maybe there’s something cool in there?” You interrupt.

With a scoff, she parks the horse across the way, hopping off and absent mindlessly reaching up to help you slide off, her fingers gently holding your hand and hip. “There we go..”

You smile gently, adjusting your coat and clearing your voice. “Well. Let’s go”, your boots guide you to the old, broken down wooded house, the appearance of it so ghastly that it’s leaving Ellie wondering if it’ll collapse on you both.

“What do you think is in there?” She began, a little hint of snark in her tone as she protectively followed right behind you, hands wanting to keep you next to her, but she digressed to them on her holster.

“I dunno” you shrug, eyes looking back at the girl. “Some porn?”

“You’re a fucking idiot. I think Eugene’s old stash is plenty, that fucker had like 40 tapes in that cabinet and-”

“Wait shut the fuck up” you wave your hand at her, listening to some distant sound upstairs. You smirk.

“This is a bad idea” she whispers, “maybe we should just head back? Don’t go upstairs”

“Oh I’m going upstairs”

Your Ellie’s biggest migraine with legs. Of course- she follows you. The stairs creak, making her eyes scrunch with cringe, thinking about the possibility of a clicker being upstairs, hearing every footstep you both made. She tapped her flash light, illuminating the area as they reached the top.

You pulled out your pistol, holding it cautiously. Despite your soft exterior, you lived for this shit. Ellie would think you were the immune one with the fearlessness you displayed on patrols.

You scanned all the rooms, finding to be disappointed. “Ellie?”

She left the bathroom, the cabinet was raided, there’s nothing even here worth the trip. “This place is empty”

You huff, looking around. “But i heard something, I swear. It sounded like footsteps”

Once Ellie walked into, what you both assumed used to be a bedroom, she met back up with you. “Maybe it was wind? The windows broken, and the wood is old”

With a sigh, you examine the space, lowering the gun. Your eyes dart to the beside table, opening it. There’s some old photographs inside. “Els, cmere”

She knelt on the creaky floor, her flashlight shining on the Polaroids you pulled out. Ellie couldn’t help but smile at them, as such few photos showcased a story to the house they sat in.

“A family lived here” you whispered, seeing a man and woman, smiling as they bundled together for the picture. A few shuffles and you come across another of a newborn baby laying on the same fabric of the bed your back presses against. “Aw…”

Ellie’s lips curled, “I wonder what happened to them” she whispered

“Me too….” You flipped the back to see the date. 2012. These people could be in Jackson? Or somewhere far away…or maybe you’ve already encountered their infected forms on prior patrols. It always is a sickening reminder that the brainless threats you kill daily used to be people with stories. Someone’s baby.

Ellie noticed the tone change, her hand brushing out to comfort you. “I’m sure they are ok, don’t dwell on it.” Her tatted arm rubbed your back, making you shiver a bit.

“Maybe.”

She took the photos and put them back in the drawer, shutting it. “Let’s just go, Tommy is gonna be mad we took another detour.” As she stood, she exhaled, “damn, my knees”

Your eyes glanced as she walked out, snickering quietly at how much of an old man this 19 year old was. “I told you to stop sitting on your legs, it is a bad habit”

With a roll of eyes, ellie waves you off, the two of you making the way back down the stairs you came up earlier. “Sorry you didn’t get your porn. If it helps I’m sure Jesse has something he’d be willing to give up”

You smile knowingly, “you always act like I hang out with him. He’s with Dina, dumbass”

“You two aren’t close? You seem it” she mumbled, almost annoyingly. Her pistol sliding back into the leg holster.

You watched her back, thinking. “You think I like him or something?”

“Did I say that?” Her hands held up in defence.

“I feel like your kinda hinting at that, els. I wouldn’t do that to Dina. Besides, Jesse is farrrrr from…my type”

She raised a brow, mumbling “your type?” Her body turned to face you, but there you were already wandering into another part of the room. Your like a dog that needs to be guided where to go on it’s walk. “Can you just come back here, damnit”

“Look!” you held up the yarn, smiling. You had a little hobby of knitting blankets…hats…scarfs. You’d even make stuff for the damn horses at the stables. Finding yarn was equivalent to ellie finding weed. Very exciting.

Ellie sighed, “ok great, that’s great, good. Now let’s-”

“There’s some more over here” your feet led you behind the wall, into the shared room. You opened up the storage closet, coming face to face with something you’ve never seen before. Before you could pull your gun back out, the infected pushes you across the room to the floor, jumping on you. Your arms tried to push and shield, “ELLIE!!!”

The girl jumped at the noise, running around the corner to see what she thought was a clicker on top of you. “What the fuck!!!!??” She panted, quickly fumbling to grab anything, her knife is what she reached first.

Your screams intensified as the creature leaned down, your faces were close, you couldn’t identify the thing, you were too fucking focused on NOT getting bit.

Within seconds, Ellie’s knife is brought around to the throat, slicing it and tossing the lifeless body to the side, the room quiet except for your pants, your brush with possible death leaving you in a state of shock.

You’ve patrolled a lot, and never been this close.

Almost too nervous to ask, ellie kneeled and spoke, shakily, “fuck….you bit? You ok??” Her heartbeat was in her ears. This is why she wanted to leave, not even be here in the first place.

“Y-yea-yeah. I- sorry, I j-”

“Shh I got you” she folded the knife, frowning as her hands helped scoop you up to your feet. Legs almost buckling.

“I don’t know what that is” you whisper, looking down at the bleeding out infected now on the wood floor.

“Me neither,…I’ve never seen that.”

“It was like..h-hiding, infected d-dont hide”

She simply nods, too focused on your state of being. “Cmon…”

The two of you are led out back to the fresh air. Shimmer eating some of the grass before Ellie beckons the horse over. With the natural lighting she identifies how pale your face was, heart breaking, feeling like she didn’t protect you enough. Her eyes scan over again, reassuring herself you didn’t get bit or scratched.

Her arms helped hoist you upon the saddle of the animal, before scooping herself up in front of you. “Just hold on to me, I’m heading back”

The ride was quiet for the most part, your hands trembling as they secured yourself around Ellie’s hips.

“How we doing?” She mumbled, making it over the hill. Jackson’s walls were within eyes reach.

“I don’t feel good”

Ellie bit the inside of her cheek, focusing on the horses lead. “Yeah that was….that was scary huh?” She whispered, “I’m sorry, I’m glad you’re ok, physically”

Your head leaned against the back of your friends denim green jacket, still feeling a bit spooked. You lived a sheltered lifestyle within the town, mostly working in the stables. Patrol wasn’t weekly for you, ellie brought you along sometimes because of her own selfish reasons, to be close with you.

Now that stupid crush of hers almost got you killed. She almost lost you, the realisation hitting her as she checked inside the gates, helping you off the horse.

“Your back early, did you log the sheets?” Maria spoke, coming over.

“I- we had an incident” ellie spoke, helping adjust your belongings on your body without turning to see the woman. “We’re fine, but there’s definitely some…weird shit going on near the lake up north. Maybe send a group out tomorrow”

Maria was confused by the ominous wording, before even getting to question further, ellie was leading you away. The older woman sighed and looked at her husband, Tommy, handing him the lead of the horse so he could put shimmer in her pen and feed her.

Unlocking the door, she gently helped you inside her garage turned mini apartment a la ellie. Joel let her have her own space, it wasn’t huge, it wasn’t great, but it was Ellie’s, and it was comforting. You both have spent a lot of time in here before now, but for some reason as your boots guide you inside, it feels smaller.

The poor girl is more frightened than you are, patting out the bed, frantic about you. “Here, lay down. Do you want something to eat? Uh, fuck maybe I have some crackers and jam, let me check”

Gaining the courage to speak, you raise your hand, body laid on the bed. “Ellie, I’m fine. Just give me a second.”

She swallows a little hard, nodding. “Sorry.”

You slide the black boots off, tossing them to the floor as your knees are guided to your chest, thinking about what could’ve happened if you did get bit.

Ellie sits in her desk chair, watching you carefully. Eyes grazing along your fragile figure, selfishly so.

“Would you have shot me?”

She blinks “what?”

Taking a moment to look over at her, the garage dimly lit. “If I got bit, and turned into one of those ….things…” your voice shakes a little, “would you have shot me?”

Ellie’s a bit taken back, she takes her coat off and puts it on the hanger nearby, her hands rubbing her thighs in thought. “I…I dunno….I probably couldn’t…i-if im being honest”

“I don’t talk about it much, but it worries me, that one day I won’t be able to escape them” you admit, knees hugged gently as you rest your head against them. “If you weren’t there-….”

She walked over cautiously and sat in front of you, the cushion of the bed sinking with her weight. “But I was…yeah?”

The emotions come out, you felt dramatic. It’s easy to forgot how dangerous shit gets when you stay in your room and collect flowers. “Yea….thank you. For uh..saving me” a stupid stray tear falls down your cheek. You wipe it quickly, knowing you’ve never cried in front of Ellie before. She smiles softly, trying to reassure the pretty girl sitting in front of her.

“I’d never let you get hurt…I’ll always protect you”

You flutter your eyes shut. Something inside you stirring.

“Unfortunately you’re stuck with me” ellie added on, her finger reaching out to rub the side of her wrist, experimentally.

A quiet laugh escaped your mouth, watery eyes opening once more to meet Ellie’s gaze. “That’s not a bad thing…I mean, I quite literally can’t exist out there on my own. It’s kinda pathetic” you sniffled, looking down at Ellie’s comforter. The plaid sheets giving your eyes something to look at rather than her.

“Hey…it’s not pathetic. It’s not ..it’s not fair we have to live this way. Some people aren’t used to it, doesn’t make you weak for not being prepared”

The silky wave of her voice made something in your heart flutter, something about Ellie being gentle with you made you become absolute putty. It was rare she didn’t showcase her tough exterior. I suppose it’s safe to say the close call shot some fear into the both of you.

“I don’t wanna lose you.”

You watched her again, swallowing. “I’ll be more careful”

With a soft nod, she links her pinky with yours, her gaze down at the interlocked fingers. A soft smile appearing across her face. Truth? She’s scared shitless right now. Vulnerable is not her thing, but it feels fitting with you. Why? She’s fucked.

Sometimes it’s known that heightened emotions of fear can make people think about deeper evaluations of their life. The room was filled with thoughts, racing hearts and hormones.

Your eyes met your joint pinky finger, you brought up your hands slowly, pressing your lips to them.

Ellie watched. Carefully.

You made sure to look at her as you turned her hand, opening it as your lips pressed against the home of her palm. Ellie almost nutted.

“Ellie, I just-”

Before your whispers could become a finished sentence, ellie sprung forward and captured your bottom lip within hers, suckling gently, her calloused and roughed up hands cupping the soft contrast of your rose coloured cheeks.

Your hands immediately shot up to hold each of her wrists, pulling your head back softly with a pant. Your eyes met. There wasn’t awkwardness, and in fact, you didn’t question why your best friend kissed you. There was an unspoken understanding. An unspoken need, you could say. Ellie’s gentle pants met yours, pressing her forehead against you.

Her body heat gave off a wave of arousal within you, one you never knew even existed. Your hands gently lifted her chin, nodding as you watched her eyes….her nose…her lips.

You kissed again, and it was different than the first one. Hungry mouths clashed against one another as you both fought for control. Needing to be closer to each other…to feel you. To feel her.

She ever so gently shoved you back against her pillows. Oh how many times she’s felt dirty, imagining how you’d lay here with her hands rubbing over you, making you feel good. Her own prideful narcissism picturing how she would make you cum, assuming you’d become obsessed and drunken by her touch, and her touch alone.

The imagery compared to what’s real now, is nothing. It’s better, way better. Your hair was so fucking beautiful and sprawled against her pillow, chest rising with uneven breaths as Ellie moved, pressing her knee between your jean covered core. The way your eyelashes fluttered up at her with desire, mouth slightly ajar.

How would she ever move on from that?

Her chapped lips met your soft ones once more, hand gently rubbing along your jaw and neck as she moved to kiss below your ear. With quiet but desperate pants, your hand holding her nape. “Ellie…yes” your voice was airy and sweet, fuck, the sound alone could make Ellie willingly kneel and provide for you. She’d become a housewife and shit, if it meant she’d be able to hear the softness of the moans leaving your fucking lips every day.

She attacked your neck, a mix of kissing, licking and gentle bites. Her knee rutted into you, all you could do is allow it; hands gripping Ellie’s tshirt, as if she’d melt into you. It was hardly recognisable, the movements your body followed, chasing after Ellie’s graze, head tilting back into the pillow, eyebrows raised and eyes shut. “I need you to touch me”

She sat back, you could almost see some of the nervousness return to her gaze for a slight moment before she shook, nodding. “What do you want I’ll do anything ….” She sounds so fucking needy, you could basically feel your underwear sticking to you at this point. “Cmon baby tell me and I’ll do it”

The whispers kissed your ear, you frantically found words, spitting them out in what you thought sounded pathetic. “I- want you to-” you sat up, pausing as you unbuttoned your jeans, overwhelmed.

“Yeah?” She asked, wanting to make sure you wanted her touch. You frantically nodded, taking her hand and guiding it to your jean waistline. She exhales a shakily laugh, almost not believing the power she has right now. She sat up, fingers tugging the fabric down your hips.

The jeans were thrown off the side of the bed, mixing with Ellie’s laundry scattered across the floor. You were the one to take your underwear off, adding it to the pile.

Ellie almost had an aneurism. You were soaked, dripping down the inner part of your thigh- part of her mind wanted to take a mental image and begin drawing it into her horny journal to save it for later. Another part of her wanted to believe she’s the first to be lucky enough to taste it.

“Oh…fuck…” tough fingers ran their way from your hips …to your thighs, parting them more. She had so many things she wanted to say, to make you feel important and loved.

She would tell you later. Her lips met your pussy.

Arching your chest up on the bed, you couldn’t even bare to look down at the girl between your legs, you’re best friend. The moan you let out was of pleasure, but more importantly one of relief. “Aaah…Mmph” hips squirmed around, bucking your folds further against Ellie’s tongue.

To be fair, she’s never eaten a girl out before, but she’s too prideful to admit she learned how from those damn porn tapes Eugene hoarded. She would tell herself she’d probably do it better than a guy, after all, she had the same parts. She knows what feels good.

And yeah, she’s right to think that, with the way you desperately cling to the sheet below you, eyes stuck up on her ceiling. Tiny glow in the dark star stickers are up there, capturing your gaze.

Ellie worked you, moaning against your core, moving her head side to side to try something she saw before, hoping it felt as amazing as it looked. Your arousal tasted sweet, blessing her tongue like dessert and her nose like incense.

She even closed her eyes, focusing on making you cum, the goal to taste it right here on her bed making her dizzy. She rutted her own hips against the mattress, selfishly getting off on your reaction.

“Ellie…els…baby” your whimpers were shy, gathering strength to prop the pillow, sitting up and looking down. You clenched at the sight, she was so into it, sucking your soul out as if she’d never have the opportunity again after this night ended.

You lazily tilted your head to your shoulder, furrowed eyebrows and mouth open, you reached your hands out to ever so lightly brush the brown hair out of Ellie’s face. “That’s good, right…right there ok?”

Praise only made her tongue work harder, despite the tired muscle aching. She made the mistake of gazing up at you, capturing how fucked out you looked. “Mmmph” the vibration of Ellie’s moan against your pussy made you jolt, legs threatening to close against either side of her head. “No…keep them open” her face backed up from your core- chin glistening with your wetness.

Ellie doubled down, using her elbow to keep your thighs apart and out of her way, her focused expression directly on her two fingers, gathering slick as they enter your needy entrance.

“Ahhfuckohmygod” your hand clings to her shoulder as Ellie begins to finger you. She reached upward, knowing what felt good on her as she confidently aimed for a ridged patch amongst your warm walls.

You clenched tightly as she found it. A burning in your lower stomach as you’ve never felt before. “Shit-”

“Mmm…’s that it? Found it didn’t i?” She cockily mumbled, more so to herself. Her own pants becoming uncomfortable, she was so wet.

You bucked up, meeting her fingers thrusts each time. Ellie went deeper, you could see the beads of sweat developing on her hairline. She was determined to make you cum harder than you thought you could.

“Stop closing them baby…” she spit, frustrated as she tried to pay attention to the way your hole sucked her fingers in so needily. You’ve been needing this for a while. Poor thing.

“I’m gonna cum” you whisper, tears filling up the bottom of your vision, making her appearance blurry. You blissfully shut them, mouth agape as endless, nonsensical, words and please fled out.

If you were to look at yourself right now without the horny facade blocking your thinking, you’d probably be ashamed.

But right now? You’re loving it.

Ellie’s strong tattooed arm leans up and pressed on your lower stomach, adding pressure to the spot she reached inside. By the sound of your choked out gasp, she was unsure if she was hurting you. “Oh” she panicked and began to move away, your grasp grabbed her and kept her in place. “No, no no no keep going I’m gonna cum”

Oh. Oh.

With the reassurance, the brunette continues her ministrations, moving to kitty lick against your clit, the feeling of her all fucking over and in you was overwhelming. You cried, not out of sadness, out of desperation.

You gripped her for dear life, hands leaning a bright white mark against the skin of her forearm. “Ohhh I’m cumming”

You lifted your hips a bit, ellie pushed them down as she finished the job, feeling the warmth and movement of your body finishing. It was beautiful, she did that, and she was gonna be cocky about this until the day she died.

“Yesyesyes…yes….”

Ellie smirked against you at the needy tone of your voice, she felt you pulsate and tighten, her wrist soaked…the bed beneath you no longer sanitary to sleep on. She looked up again to see your overwhelmed and exhausted face, she panted, removing her fingers as she pressed her forehead against your thigh, holding onto you as she came.

She came from WATCHING YOU cum. Ellie Williams, everybody.

You would’ve poked fun if you didn’t find it so hot. She rode her hips out against the bed, softly whispering something you couldn’t make out.

Letting the moment sit for a while, your hand gently rubbed her arm, beckoning her to come up to you, she obliged and carefully sat over you, rubbing the skin under your white shirt. “Are you ok…?” There’s your ellie.

With a nod, “I’m ok…I’m good. Are you?” You raised a brow, fingers brushing under her eyes and over her cheek. Ellie nodded, smiling shyly. How dare she be shy right now. “Yeah…”

She cutely nuzzles her nose against yours, fluttering her eyes shut. She peppered gentle soft kisses along your face. Who knew she was a sap after sex….

There’s still some shock within the atmosphere of the poorly lit garage. The air smelling of sweat and sex. This will need to be talked about, but there’s an absent agreement to just be present tonight. Ellie stands up, shakily guiding her legs over to the bathroom as you laid, trying to understand what just happened.

After a moment, you hear the water run. She comes out with a wet cloth, sitting beside you with hesitant eyes. She gestures the cloth up lazily and mumbles, eyes going to your pussy. “Gonna wash…”

The coldness almost makes you hiss, but you welcome the soft and delicate act of her cleaning up. “Thanks…”. The cloth is tossed to the basket, before she climbs next to you, putting a clean blanket over your lower body. Her doe eyes scan over your face, your features as you mimic the action.

“I mean..you’re staying right?” Ellie’s tone is an airy…blissfully dreamy whisper.

You bite your bottom lip, fingers tracing the girls jawline. “I can’t really walk right now to be honest. I think it was your plan to keep me here.” The joke makes Ellie’s eyes crinkle with laughter, her palm rubbing the curve of your hip.

“Alright…I’ll get you some clothes…we can get comfy and sleep…” her voice is hushed against your neck.

Your fingers ran over the back of Ellie’s shirt, eyelashes fluttering your vision as the calmness of the moment overtook you. Suddenly the biggest issue was no longer almost dying earlier, it was falling in love with your best friend.

You both were hopeless, and maybe it wasn’t the worst thing to happen.

<3

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Your Teddy ~ Theodore Nott x f!reader (Drabble)

Requested: No

Pairing: Theodore Nott x f!reader

Summary: Theo has only felt pain ever since y/n was kidnapped by Death Eaters, but her return might even be just as painful.

Word count: 811

Warnings: slight mentions of torture; angst; English is not my first language

A/N: I will post the second part on Friday, let me know if you want to be tagged! This is my first time writing for Theo and it's rushed, so I hope it's still alright. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Sorry for the typos. Hope you enjoy it!

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus @wolfyychan

Ignoring the people around him and their confused looks, Theo ran through the corridors, with only four words in his mind - we found miss y/n.  

He had spent three months, three months waiting for her to come back, for her to give him any sign, for her to come back to him, for his whole body and mind to function normally again. It had been three months since y/n had disappeared, captured by Death Eaters one week before winter break. The image of her, defenseless and screaming as she was being tortured had been plaguing Theo ever since, and he hadn’t been able to think of anything else other than he didn't know where y/n was, if she was even alive or not, and what kind of atrocities she was facing. He had completely stopped going to class, stopped going to the Great Hall for meals - despite how many times his friends had asked him to come, saying y/n wouldn’t want him to be like that -, staying in his dorm instead, where even despite the constant closed shutters, he couldn’t even sleep, as he had terrible nightmares of y/n screaming for him as she was being tortured every time he tried to sleep. 

He had tried to look for her, of course. How could he not? But old Dumbledore had anticipated it, and had ordonned him to not leave the castle without a teacher. The first few weeks, Theo had been going almost every day to Dumbledore’s office, asking if there was new information about where y/n was, and he always got the same answer. I’m sorry to tell you that we do not. But trust, Mr Nott, that we are actively looking for her and that I am sure that we will find her. At the beginning, Theo had somehow managed to control his anger and frustration, but at one point, he had screamed at the headmaster, saying that it wasn’t enough, that no one could understand what it was like, and even had broken a few items. 

But, today, Professor Snape had knocked on his door, saying the four words Theo had been dreaming to hear. And now here he was, running to the hospital wing. He only slowed down when he arrived by its door, and, still breathless from the running, immediately opened the door, and then rushed inside to the only bed that was currently occupied. 

“y/n!”

“Mr. Nott, please don’t-”

But Theo ignored Mrs Pomfrey’s words and walked past her, instead going to sit on the bed and hugging y/n’s body as hard as he could. Mrs Pomfrey continued to protest and ask him to stop, but he couldn’t care less. All that mattered was here, in his arms. He gently stroked her hair, feeling his eyes burn with tears. All the pain, stress, fear and anger that he had felt from the moment he learned that she had disappeared faded away, replaced with her warmth presence and the feeling that fucking finally, she was safe, safe in his arms like she was supposed to be. 

“Cazzo, y/n, baby. I missed you so much.” 

You’re here. You’re here. I’m never letting you out of my sight again. 

He slightly detached himself from her but only to kiss her forehead and look at her, look at the face and eyes he had fallen so hard in love with. But instead of looking at him with warm eyes full of love like she always did, there was only confusion - which was also shown in her frowning - and that was the moment he realized she didn’t hug him back, or even touched him at all. 

“Um, I…I’m sorry, but…who are you?” 

If Theo thought he had known pain every second of y/n’s absence, that was nothing compared to the heartbreak her words caused throughout his whole body and mind. He was now also confused, and his arms dropped from her by themselves. 

“y/n…It’s me…Teddy.”

Your Teddy. 

“You…” He had never struggled to find his words so much before. “You don’t recognize me?”

y/n opened her mouth to answer, apparently embarrassed and turned to the matron for help. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Nott, but Miss y/l/n lost all her memories. Professor Dumbledore and I are still trying to figure out why, and how to bring her memory back,” she said with a kind voice, before turning to y/n and putting a hand on her shoulder. “Miss y/l/n, this is Theodore Nott, your boyfriend.” 

No! Not Theodore, not Theo, fucking damn it. It’s Teddy for her. For her and nobody else. Teddy. 

Her Teddy.

y/n nodded and looked at Theo.

“I’m sorry for not remembering you. I can’t remember anything, really.”

Theo rose from the bed. 

“No, I’m sorry.”

Not wanting for an answer, he turned around and left the hospital’s wing, feeling more broken than when he entered it.

PART 2

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[cozage]

Hi! Do you write angst stuff? If so, can you please write about something like s/o is from a normal, well educated, middle class family but her parents don't approve of their love because well you know, he is a pirate. Ace, Law, Shanks x f!reader please

A/N: This is only very loosely edited. I’m sure theres plent of typos and grammatical errors. Forgive me!  Characters: f! reader x Ace, Law, Shanks Cw: This is angst only…should I make a part two with resolution? Also there are some harsh words exchanged in some of these. Just be mindful of that :) Total word count: 3k

Disapproval

Ace

You spotted Whitebeard’s jolly roger in the distance and braced yourself for the next few days. Ace was surely on that ship. He never missed a visit to your island. You knew it would only be a matter of time before you’d have to see him again, but you hadn’t expected him to return so soon. 

You watched the ship pull into port from the cliffside, trying to decide what to do. Ace was expecting you to be down by the docks when he arrived, as you always were. But you knew it would only make everything harder, and you haad been warned to stay away from the pirates due to their…bad image. 

You fiddled with the engagement ring on your finger as you thought. Ace deserved to hear the news from you. It was cruel, but hearing it from a local would be worse. With a stone weighing in your stomach, you rose from your place and started down the path to the port. 

You loved Ace. With all of your heart, you loved him. But your parents were extremely affluent individuals in the community, and Ace was a pirate. He had plenty of other women on other islands to comfort him-women you tried not to think about too hard. But you couldn’t spend your life waiting for the next time he came too you. He had his life on the sea, and your had your life on this island. 

So when William Cleed had asked for your hand in marriage, you agreed. It was an arrangement between your parents, and William was a rather boring fellow. But he came from a good family, and he was kind to his servants. He was a good man. Plus, the marriage would solidify your parents position in the community and strengthen family ties. It was the sensible move. 

“There she is!” Ace’s voice rang out amongst the sounds of the portmen, and you found him at the bow of the ship, waving down at you. 

You gave him a sheepish grin and small wave, the way you always had as the two of you waited for the gangway to be set. His grin made your heart swell, which paired with an instant pang of regret. 

Unwilling to wait any longer, Ace jumped over the side of the ship, landing on the dock directly in front of you. 

“Miss you, love.” His eyes gave a quick scan over your body, lingering a moment too long of your lips. “You look good.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile dancing along your lips. “I bet you say that to all of your island girls.”

Ace wrinkled his nose at your comment. “Only you. I tell you every time, there’s no one else.”

“And yet you always leave.” You raised an eyebrow at him. This was a daance the two of you always did.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him. “Come with me.”

“Ace-” you tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but he only strengthened his grip on you, a smile still on his face.

“I know, I know,” he said with a sigh. “You can’t go and I can’t stay. So we just have to keep dancing this dance we always do.”

You tried to pull away again, but he didn’t budge. “Ace, I need to talk to you.”

“I missed you.” Hiis lips were already on yours as he spoke the words. 

You should’ve felt guilty. You should’ve tried to pull away, or push against him. You should’ve tried to get away and preserve yourself and your fiance. 

Instead, you melted into him. You couldn’t help it. You ignored the reasonable part of your brain that was reminding you about your bethrothed. You would tell him about your engagement the moment you pulled away, you just needed to taste him one more time. To have your sense invaded by campfire, to have your mouth slightly numb and your hair a tangled mess from his fingers twining through them. Just this last kiss, and then you could say goodbye. 

“What the hell is this?” William’s voice broke through the smoke that was fogging your brain, causing you to yank out of Ace’s grasp. 

“William-” you gasped, trying to think of a reason he would’ve found you like this. 

But William wasn’t looking at you. He stepped infront you you, glaring directly at Ace. “You pirates thing anything you look at is yours. Get the fuck away from her!”

The sharpness in William’s voice was something you had never heard before, and it caused you to take a step back from both of the men. 

Ace blinked, confused and slightly disoriented from your kiss. His eyes found yours, asking for an explanation, but you simply adverted your gaze. You should have told him, but now your voice was gone. 

Ace gave out a nervous laugh. “I don’t understand. She was fine-”

“The hell she was!” William shouted. “My fiance doesn’t go around kissing other men, especially not a pirate.”

The way he spit the last word made your cheeks heat with shame. You had never been ashamed to be seen with Ace or any of his crew before, but the Cleeds wouldn’t be caught dead frequenting the same establishment as a pirate. 

“Fiance?” Ace barked out a laugh, but was quickly silenced. You knew he was looking at you, at the ring on your finger. “I-”

“William, dear,” you interrupted quickly. “Can we just go?”

WIlliam finally turned around to you, his eyes instantly softening as he looked at you. He smoothed some of your wild hair and wiped some dirt off of your face. “Did he hurt you?” he whispered. 

You shook your head. “No. I’m okay. I swear.”

Ace was staring at you, trying to get your attention. “Y/N-”

“Don’t say her name,” William growled, turning back to Ace. “Don’t even fucking speak to her.”

“I can talk to her if I damn well please! She’s her own person!” Ace took a step toward you, but William stepped up to meet him, cutting you off from him. 

“And my betrothed,” WIlliam hissed. “And my family will not associate themselves with your kind.”

You could see Ace’s temperature rise at that comment. You knew the look on his face. One that often happened when people in the bar spoke poorly of Whitebeard or laughed at someone in his crew. He was getting ready to loose his flames.

“Please-” your voice cracked on that word, finally looking at Ace and all of the confused pain on his face. “Please just let it go.”

William turned to you and relaxed, walking back to you. “Yes, of course. Let’s go.”

He smoothed your hair again, gently kissed your cheek, and led you away from the docks. You didn’t dare to look back to Ace, but you knew he was still standing in the same place you had left him, silently begging you to turn and run back into his arms. 

Law

Trafalger Law had visited your island a few times and managed to stop in at your family’s cafe every single time. And every time, your conversations went about the same. 

“Welcome back! What brings you back to the island?”

“Business for the World Government,” he’d say with a straight face, staring at the menu. 

You’d give a nervous laugh. “Right. Classified, I’m guessing.”

He’d finally give you a smirk. “You’d be correct.”

“Anything I can help with or give you insider information on?”

“Just a sandwich.”

It was at that point that you’d remember he stopped in for service, not conversation. You’d quickly ring him up and make his order. He always sat at the bar near you. At first, he didn’t seem interested in making small talk with you, but after the third or fourth visit, the two of you could talk through the entire meal without any awkward pauses or lulls in conversation. 

And without fail, everytime he left, your mother would stick her head out from the back room and click her tongue in disapproval. 

“You shouldn’t be so kind to men like that. He’s a pirate, you know. He’ll take you hostage and not think twice about it if it benefits him.”

“He’s a Warlord, you know. Sanctioned by the World Government,” you’d always say back. 

She’d scrunch her face at that comment. “Just means he can get away with it.”

The two of you would roll your eyes at the other’s remarks and get back to work, but those golden eyes would stay in your mind for the rest of the day. 

One day, Trafalgar Law came into your shop twice in the same day. 

You couldn’t help but smile at him. “Back for the World Government Business? Or just a sandwich for the sea?”

“Neither,” Law said. “It’s actually a personal matter.”

Your heart began to race at his words. “Oh? And how can I help with that?”

Law looked back at the door as if he wanted to run, but his crewmates were blocking the exit, staring at him expectantly. 

He turned back to you, watching you carefully. “Are you busy tonight?”

It took a moment for you to process his words. “Tonight? Uhm…no, I don’t think so.”

“I’ll meet you here at seven, then.”

It felt like all the air had gotten sucked out of your lungs. “What?”

“For dinner.” He started to walk away, and then froze. “I mean, if you want to.”

You gave a nervous laugh. “Do you even want to?”

He quickly turned to face you, and you could see the calculated panic across his face as he realized his communication errors. 

A smile spread across your face as you watched him try to fix his mistake. “I’ll see you here at seven. Don’t dress up too fancy, okay?”

He gave a quick nod and then slunk out of the building. You couldn’t help but laugh at his awkwardness. You hadn’t seen that level of communication issues from him since his first lunch. 

Thankfully, you didn’t have to hear anything from your mother. Her and your father were away for the day, working an event on the other side of the island. 

You closed the shop quickly and ran home to change into anything but your work outfit. Law had seen you in that enough times. 

Law was already waiting for you as you approached the bakery again, and gave a smirk when he saw you. “I was starting to worry you wouldn’t show up.”

You flashed him a smile in return. “And miss a evening out with a pirate? How could I refuse!”

He rolled his eyes at your enthusiasm. “Don’t get your hopes up. It’s nothing big. It’s just-”

“Y/N?” Your father’s voice made you freeze in place. Even Law stopped speaking mid-sentence. 

You quickly spun around to see your mother and father standing in the path. “You guys are back early!”

Law turned around as well, slower and more disinterested in the conversation. But you saw the moment your mother recognized his face. How her eyes bulged out her her face for just a moment. How she whispered to your father. 

Your father’s eyes widened aat your mother’s indistinguishable words. “You’re coming home right now,” he said to you. 

Plastering on the fakest smile you could, you willed yourself to speak confidently. “I’m actually just on my way out. Everything is okay at home, though.”

“Listen here, girl-” Your father strode up to you in five quick steps and grabbed you by the arm. “If you don’t come home this instant, you will have no home to come home to.”

“Father-”

He tugged on your arm. “Now.”

“Go,” Law said, already turning around and heading down the path without you. “I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch.”

“You will not!” Your father screamed after him. “You and your crew aren’t welcome in my shop! All you bring is trouble!” 

Law didn’t respond as he kept walking, so your father turned his rage to you. “If you ever see him again- If you ever try to go out with him again- You will be no daughter of mine. Is that understood?”

You glanced down the path one last time to see Law vanish out of sight. “Understood,” you whispered. 

Shanks

“Run away with me,” Shanks whispered between kisses. “You’re too busy here.”

“I have to stay.” You managed to get the words out before his lips came crashing back onto yours. 

“You don’t have to,” he argued. His goodbyes were always like this. 

You pulled away from him. “Just like you don’t have to go.”

“I’ll be back.” He gave you one last kiss, and then he was gone. 

--

Your mother clicked her tongue in disapproval as you stumbled back in, still drunk from the wine and Shanks’s lips. 

“That man is a walking bad idea,” she warned. “I told you to stay away from sailors. They’re bad news.”

“Shanks is a pirate,” you mumbled without thinking. “That’s a totally different profession.”

“What?” Her sharp eyes cut over to you, fire burning from your words. 

You were in for it now. You let out a groan and stumbled up the stairs, but your mother was quick on your heels. 

“Me and your father have set you up a good life. You have a good job for now, your on track to be the first graduating student with high-”

“I know!” you shouted. “My life is perfect!”

“It is!” She shot back. “And we have worked tirelessly to ensure that. So I’ll be damned if you ruin our hard work because of-”

“He offered to have me join his crew, you know.” The mischief in your eyes cut her off mis word, her mouth still hanging open in shock. “Maybe I’ll take him up on it next time!”

With that bombshell, you slammed your bedroom door shut. 

“He’s a filthy pirate!” Your mother screamed through the wooden door. “He’ll use you until he grows tired, and then he will dump you off just like every other girl!”

“Better being stuck on this damn island!” you shouted back, but your mother had already stormed back down the hallway. 

You shouldn’t have threatened your parents. You shouldn’t have mentioned leaving. You shouldn’t have even told them about Shanks in the first place. Because your parents held onto things; let them fester. Their rage never left them, it just sat dormant until they needed to call upon it. 

That rage didn’t manifest again until you saw the red-hair pirated sailing into port. Coincidentally, it was the same day that your professor had assigned a huge research project. Upon arriving home, you found that you were to prepare the meals for the family for the next week since the chef had taken a vacation, and that your parents has volunteered you to work the summer camp that helped the underprivileged island children. 

“I know what you’re doing,” you whispered to your mother while chopping vegetables one night. “It won’t work.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about dear.” She gave you a false smile and returned to her book. “I could use some more tea.”

You had plans to sneak out after dark, but your parents stayed in the foyer until the early hours of the night. Between school, volunteering, making dinner, and working on your project, you never could stay awake longer than them. 

You knew what they were doing. Severing your relationship with Shanks and his crew was the best way to keep your family’s reputation pristine. But you had to see him once before he left. Just once. 

You stayed up all night to finish your project, and finished all of your dinner preparations before you went off to your volunteer duties. Dinner was finished and ready the moment your parents got home. 

You served your parents, ignoring your mother’s glare that you hadn’t set the table for yourself. 

You took a deep breath. “I’m going out this evening with some-”

“No,” your father said. “Sit and eat with us. We are a family.”

“I’m going to eat with some friends.”

Your mother raised an eyebrow at you. “Which friends?”

You began walking towards the door. “Enjoy your meal.”

“Y/N” Your father’s voice was like a blade across your skin. “Sit and eat. You have things to do afterwards here at home.”

“I’ll do it when I get back.”

“Sit. Down.” There was the rage you remembered so well. The piece of him that required you to be perfect. Obedient. 

You sat down at the table. 

You resisted the urge to shy away from his glare as he spoke. “You will not go out tonight.”

“It’s just for a few hours. I need-”

“You need nothing,” he snapped back, immediately silencing you. “I will lock you in the cellar before I allow you to galavant around the town while pirates are in town.”

“Besides, we saw that red-haired young man in the market earlier,” you mother cooed. “Seems he found another doe-eyed girl who was stupid enough to say yes to his offer. Im so glad you moved on from that fantasy and are focusing on what’s actually important now.”

Your heart stopped in your chest. “You’re lying.”

She gave you a wicked smile. “I’d sayyou could go see for yourself, but it seems you shall remain on the property. For your own safety, of course. And since we will not allow such filth in the house, wee’re at an impasse.”

“You’re lying,” you said again. You could feel your body shaking, your eyes welling with tears. But you couldn’t stop yourself. 

What pity your mother looked at you with. “I’ve told you dear. We don’t socialize with animals for a reason.” 

Your father gave a thoughtful nod, as if your mother has actually said something profound. “Well, not that we’ve got that covered, why don’t you tell us about the research project you have for Professor Kiamari.”

“I think-” you stood from the table, almostknocking over the chair. “I think I’m going to go work on that right now.”

“I think that’s a swell idea,” your father agreed. “Anything less than perfect-”

“Is a failure,” you finished. 

“And we didn’t raise a failure,” your mother said. 

With a weight crushing on your heart, you receded to your room wondering if Shanks had even realized you weren’t around anymore.

Part 2 by request :)

[soapsbaby]

Silly Spicy Call of Duty headcanons

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, König, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, John Price, Valeria Garza, all x reader Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI) Themes: All NSFW but very lighthearted, nothing particularly triggering but ask to tag! Word count: 750ish

These are just silly little headcanons about them, PLEASE if you have any like these send them to me i had such a blast writing them lol!!

Ghost

Sometimes his mask slips a little and he looks goofy as hell, you have to do your best to not laugh into his face because you know he won’t let that slide.

Uses British lingo sometimes. Has called your pussy a “fanny” before. Got mad when that made you giggle.

Once got so frustrated with trying to figure out how to operate one of your vibrators that he broke it. Was very apologetic and immediately ordered you another one afterwards.

Soap

He is clumsy as hell. Every time you have tried to fuck in a position that is anywhere near athletic, something goes wrong. It’s a miracle neither of you have broken your necks trying to get it on in the shower. He will always take the fall though, protecting you with everything he has and curling himself around you even if it means he will end up bruised or bleeding.

Makes a lot of typos when sexting, never notices. Called you “baby gorilla” once (you will never let him live that down).

Gets offended when you call him “Soap” in the bedroom. You know my name, what are you calling me that for? Dummy.

König

He doesn’t usually wear his balaclava under his mask when you have sex since it gets too sweaty but since his mask is pretty loose he will sometimes have to pft-ppf-tpftt when it gets stuck in his mouth. Has almost choked on his mask before.

Gets so flustered that he will just start sputtering nonsense. Has on several occasions been so out of it that he has messed up the nicknames you use for each other. “yes show me that I am your little babygirl, wait- no, you are… I am your boy�� you’re… Wait, I’m sorry”. Not a gender or kink thing, which would of course be alright with you, just him being a dummy.

Is a bit of a crier and drooler sometimes which wouldn't be a problem except for the fact that he will sometimes accidentally waterboard himself in his mask and not tell you.

Gaz

Has called you mommy once and was mortified. Neither of you have really spoken about it but sometimes you will drop little hints around him to get him flustered.

Likes when you suck him off while he is playing video games but then gets too into the game and genuinely can’t help but get annoyed when he loses because you distract him.

Cpt Price

Is oblivious to any signs that you want him. Will go into Dad story telling mode and completely ignore the effect he is having on you until you grab him by the shirt and just tell him to fuck you.

Has a sex playlist called "sensual" with just the most cliché sex songs on it possible. Can unironically have sex to "Careless Whisper" and “Let’s get it on”.

Has given you rug burn with his beard before. 0/10 very unpleasant experience (you’d do it again, though).

Alejandro

Will say things that could be interpreted as sexist in the moment and then immediately get apologetic. Who’s my good slut? I mean… If you want to be. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to… Are you okay with that? Okay. Cool.

Will fuck you in uniform because he knows you’re into that and then get distracted by things he finds in his pockets like shopping receipts. 

Doesn’t care whether or not you understand him, he will speak Spanish to you.

Rudy

Gets tormented by you with new pet names every day. mí amor, I don't know what a Zaddy is. I don’t even know if that’s a good thing.

In the beginning of your relationship he was completely oblivious to most kinks. If you ever expressed anything out of the ordinary to you, he’d raise his eyebrows in confusion and say something like “what? why would anyone want that?” but was always open to trying anything. Now he is probably even more of a deviant than you are.

Valeria

Has this roleplay thing going on where you are a traitor to her cause and she discovers it and gets to “punish” you. You find it a little silly but it gets her super riled up so you play along.

Secretly loves to bottom and to be taken care of by you but would never tell you (you know anyway). Thinks she is being very good at hiding it (she is not).

[plussizefantasia]

Hey! Can I get a Thorin x f!reader where the company doesn’t believe in her because of her size and the fact that she’s a woman and then she totally kicks ass and doesn’t care what they think. And he totally regrets ever doubting her? Fluff ending if you can please!!

You Saved Me

Thorin x Warrior!reader

WC: ~3k

warnings: violence, death, it's essentially a botfa re-write so...

a/n: thank you for the request, this was entirely written in a burst of passion at midnight so if they're are any typos I'm sorry, let me know and I'll fix them <3

You were a feared warrior, one with skills you’d been honing since you could walk. Your parents had been killed by an orc pack when you were but a baby and you were taken in by the rangers who found you crying by the bodies of your loved ones. Almost a year ago you were sent a letter by that blasted grey wizard, an invitation, or maybe a plea you weren't sure anymore. Join a company of dwarves on their quest, and keep them safe. That is all he asked of you.

You had tried, you really had tried to keep them safe but when those blasted dwarves took one look at you and decided that there wasn't any possible way you knew anything about fighting, it became difficult. You had several moments where all you wanted to do was clobber them over the head, but you refrained. 

The whole journey was wrought with their endless need to remind you that you were a woman, a bigger one at that. They must’ve thought you hadn’t noticed or something of that nature, for surely they wouldn’t keep bringing it up if not to hurt you on purpose. They never forgot to tell you how much they thought you were soft, incapable, fragile. 

You’d shown them time and time again that this wasn't the case, incapacitating two of the trolls when they were all tied up in sacks ready to be cooked for dinner. You were defending  Ori when you were discovered by the warg scouts before your arrival at Rivendell. You were the first to join ranks and fend off the hundreds of bloodthirsty goblins in Goblin-town. Not to mention how you risked your life for Thorin’s when Azog attacked. You had run in with no weapon, just pure adrenaline and a need to save your leader.Not that you would ever tell him that. Tell any of them that.

Thorin was certainly one of a kind. He was undoubtedly cold, it was his nature, he had lost too much in too short a time to be willing to open himself up to others. Especially when the ‘others’ consisted of a woman ranger he hadn’t wanted on the quest in the first place. You understood though, you too had lost too much.

You wouldn't say that he warmed up to you, but it didn’t seem like he hated you as much as he did in the beginning. You had even caught him smiling once or twice when you cuffed Fili and Kili over the head at their cheeky remarks about your size.

 Over and over again you’ve defended these idiotic men, and yet nothing changed, they still had no faith. Most of them treated you horribly not that you think they noticed. It was hard to ignore their callousness when it came to you, especially compared to the warmth they shared with one another. There were several nights when their words became too much and you had to stray from camp in order to let the tears fall out of sight. But you had promised Gandalf that you would protect them, and if that meant staying even when it was obvious you weren't wanted, then that is what you’d do.

It wasn’t until Thorin, overtaken with his dragon sickness had cast you out that you had finally decided you were done. Done with dwarves, done with being underestimated and belittled at every moment.

“You will never be good enough, you are a burden to all those around you, a burden I no longer wish to be saddled with!” He had yelled from his position on the ramparts as you descended from the same rope that the hobbit had used just moments before. 

Thorin had never been cruel, aloof maybe, but never cruel. You knew deep down that it was his addled mind that allowed this cruelty to spew from his mouth. Thorin may not have known you loved him, but you had thought the two of you had reached a sort of understanding, a mutual bond forged by the danger you’d overcome together. Apparently not.

You joined Gandalf’s side as he spoke to Thorin. You bit your tongue to stop yourself from yelling back at the King Under the Mountain. It wasn't until you heard Thorin’s reply that you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore.

“I will have war!” He yelled.

“You will have death!” You had screamed back “You will have death for you and your kin if you do not stop this foolishness Oakenshield!” With that, you turned and headed back towards the gates of Dale. If there really was to be a war you would be needed, to protect those who could not protect themselves.

You heard the horns of war in the distance and shook your head. Foolish dwarves doing foolish things. You kept running towards Dale hoping to be of some use. 

Arriving at the old armory, you pulled out an old steel sword, one dating back to before the fall of the city. It wasn’t as good as the eleven blades that the elves of Mirkwood confiscated when you were captured, but it was well-balanced. The hilt was wrapped in old black leather, well worn and rough against your skin. 

You didn’t have time to sift for a better weapon, so you took the sword and ran. Bursting out onto the street your eyes scanned for danger. You took in all the rubble, some new and some old from the dragon attack years ago. The screaming of a group of people made you cease your reminiscing and run towards them. 

Taking down several enemies as you run, you finally round the corner into the main square. Landing your sight on Bain, Sigrid, and Tilda. Bain doing his very best to defend his sisters. You run forward without hesitation and trade blows with the monster in front of you, taking him down in no time at all.

“Are you all alright?” You ask rushing towards the girls and helping them down from the cart they had used as a hiding spot.

“We’re fine ma’am” Tilda responds in a shaky voice

“You all were very brave, but now it's time to head to the hall where everyone else is. Take cover, the battlefield is not safe for children I assure you.”

“But-” Bain had cut in.

“No, Bain, I know what your Da has asked of you but I’m telling you to take cover.”

He hesitated but nodded and took his sisters towards the main hall where the rest of the women and children were hiding.

You continue to take down the orcs and their armies as you run toward the main battlefield. 

“Y/N! Y/N!” You hear your name being called, rotating quickly your eyes fall on the hobbit who had become very dear to you over the course of the Journey.

“Bilbo, are you hurt? What’s wrong?” You rushed out

“No. No, I’m fine it’s Thorin.”

“Thorin? What’s happened with Thorin where is he?” Your questioning picked up in intensity.

“The Pale Orc is atop Ravenhill, and Thorin, Dwalin, Fili, and Kili have all gone to kill him.” The Hobbit responded just as rushed.

Without another word, you grab the back of the Hobbit’s coat and drag him behind you. Your eyes quickly scan the horizon, taking inventory of anything that could get you to the top of the Mountain quickly. You spot Lord Dain, on his royal ram, and make a plan in your head.

Hobbit still in your grasp you sprint across the field towards the Dwarf Lord,

“Lord Dain! I need your ram.”

“W-What?!” He sputters.

“I am not asking.” You huff out a frustrated breath and use the hand not currently gripping your friend to shove the dwarf off of his steed, quickly taking his place and beginning your trek to the mountain. Sending a quick prayer to whatever being there might be to keep your love safe. Just long enough for you to kill him yourself.

Once you are sure he won’t fall off you let go of your hold on Bilbo and scan the ground flying past you for any more weapons you could use.

Seeing a discarded elven bow and quiver ahead of you, you steer the ram towards it and scoop it off the ground and into your grasp. Five Arrows, you’ll have to use them wisely, but it’s better than nothing.

You look towards Ravenhill, watching as the dwarves you have reluctantly come to care for dismount their own steed. Pushing your heels into the sides of your own ram you pray to any gods out there that you’ll make it in time. 

You meet a few obstacles on your journey, the occasional orc arrow to be deflected, and even a troll who had fallen right in front of you. Nevertheless, in no time at all you reach the peak and search for the men you came to aid. 

You only see Thorin and Dwalin as they fight their way through hordes of creatures of the dark. You leap into the fray and call out to the two warriors

“Where are the princes?” 

“They’ve gone to search the structure.”

A yell coming from the tower quickly puts that thought to rest. You slash down the last monster before you quickly shift to see a sight that you’ll have a hard time forgetting. The pale orc holds Fili in his grasp. You immediately grasp your bow and nock an arrow. 

The pale orc is too absorbed in his victory speech to notice you pulling back the string. With a deep breath, you let an arrow loose and send a quick prayer that it hits its target. Not a second later you hear a deep grunt and see that your aim is true. The arrow lodged itself deep into the meat of the arm holding the dwarf prince. He drops Fili in surprise and your eyes widen in fear. However, it is short-lived as Fili pulls a dagger out of nowhere and wedges into the stone of the tower, slowing his descent.

Four arrows left. 

Azog staggers back and he catches himself on the wall behind him. His eyes find yours and you try not to shudder at the rage within him. This is a benefit you tell yourself. An angry enemy is a distracted enemy. His rage will be his downfall, you’ll make sure of it.

Fili lets go of the dagger and drops the rest of the distance, landing on his feet and quickly running to your side. Moments later, Kili runs from the tower and practically lunges for his brother. 

“You idiot Fee.” The brother's embrace is hard and you’re a little worried they’ll suffocate each other. Eventually, Kili lets go and turns to you, “Thank you. And I’m sorry.” 

“No need for apologies Kili. Gandalf asked me to protect you, and that’s what I’ve done.”

“Still, I underestimated you, I won’t do it again.” You nod at the prince and clap a hand on his shoulder. 

“I have to go help your uncle, don’t follow me, and whatever you do don’t split up. You’re stronger together.”

“Aye.” They both reply and send a single nod your way.

You clutch your bow and scan your surroundings, a trail of black blood and a broken arrow stem point the way to the Pale Orc’s location. 

“Fili, you wouldn’t happen to have an extra dagger would you?” You turn and ask. He smirks and opens his coat. 

“Take your pick Lass.”

After grabbing two matching daggers from Fili you begin jogging towards the frozen waterfall. You are single-minded in your task, ignoring the shouts of battle from below and the wails of the dying. You cannot let yourself get distracted. Distraction means death and you can’t help anyone when you’re dead.

You come upon a scene that you’d only ever had nightmares about. Thorin and Azog facing off on a barren plane. Neither is holding back and you force yourself to push past the terror that grips your heart. As you run towards your king you begin releasing arrows one after the other. 

Four. Three. Two. One. None.

Each arrow pierces the flesh of the monster pushing him back and back. Blow after blow sends him staggering and gives Thorin the advantage. He swings his sword and slashes at the beast.  But Azog does not fall. 

He yells. He stands and he starts returning blows. They are sloppy, his mace has no aim. It doesn’t need to, the force he puts behind it means he really only has to land one blow. 

You can’t run fast enough to cover the distance, especially not on the ice. Nevertheless, you keep pushing. Your legs burn and so do your lungs but you keep going. You race against time and fate to reach the dwarf you love. 

Thorin falls. The orc closes in. You run.

And run, and run, and run. 

You don’t notice the battle cry that rips from your body, but the orc does. 

He looks up and a sneer crosses his face. 

You get closer.

You pull your daggers.

The orc stands. 

You take a running jump.

Azog runs. 

You smile.

This is foolish. You understand that, not even you as skilled as you are could take down a beast such as this. But you’ll try because you made two promises. One to Gandalf, that you would keep the company safe. And another to yourself, that if you survived this you would stop being afraid, you would tell Thorin you love him and… 

Your daggers land in the Pale Orc’s shoulder blades. You hold on for dear life. His roar of pain nearly deafens you but you hold on still. Ripping one blade from his body you jab it at his neck. He grabs the back of your coat and pulls you away, you scratch him but nothing more. He lifts you into the air and looks into your eyes. The rage is still there, along with smugness, bloodlust, curiosity, and then - shock. His grip loosens and you fall to the ground. 

You scramble away from him, grasping the ice with shaking hands. You stand and turn. Azog is still, frozen in time. Except now, there is a sword piercing his chest. Right where his heart should be, protrudes a sword you know very well. 

Azog grips the blade and looks at you, then falls. He doesn’t get up.

Behind him stands Thorin, looking mightier than you’ve ever seen him. His hair is a mess and there is blood on his face and hands. Yet he’s never looked better. You run towards him and throw yourself into his arms. A laugh escapes you and you let yourself feel for a moment. Feel grateful, and scared and everything you’ve been holding back for the past few days. 

Thorin’s grip on you is strong and you can feel the tremor in his hands as he guides them up and down your back.

“You saved me.” His deep timber pulls you from your thoughts. “Why?”

“I made a promise to Gan-”

“No, you fulfilled your pledge to the Wizard the moment we made it to the mountain, yet you stayed. Why?” Thorin pulls his chest away from yours and attempts to catch your gaze with his.

“Is this really the time?” You ask. 

“When else?” He cocks his head to the side.

“Perhaps after the battle is over?” You fully pull away from him then. 

Thorin pauses, perhaps like you, he had briefly forgotten the battle warring on below you in a moment of joy. But he nods to you and walks back toward the lifeless body of your foe. He rips his sword out of the body. He flips Azog onto his back so his lifeless eyes gaze emptily at the sky. Thorin turns to you, “Perhaps you should look away.” he addresses you.

You simply raise an eyebrow at him. He nods and grasps the sword firmly. From one moment to the next Thorin separates Azog’s head from his body. He takes hold of it and walks towards the edge of the frozen lake, which looks out onto the field below. 

He lets out a mighty shout and hoists the fallen orc’s head into the air. Shrieks echo from below and the enemy begins to retreat. 

You’ve won.

Thorin drops his head and turns to face you, a rare smile graces his face and for the first time since you met him, it truly seems like the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders, for at least a moment.

It takes you three seconds to get in front of him, one second to grab ahold of his head, and another to kiss him. Five seconds, five seconds of bravery that you will probably never be able to muster again.

Thorin kisses you back with fervor, gripping you as through he thought you might fade away. Eventually, the need for air separates you. 

“That is why I saved you,” you whisper into the space between you, “because a life without you in it is one I do not wish to bear.”

“You’ll never have to.” is his reply before his mouth is on you again. Where the first kiss was full of passion, a burst of adrenaline between two people. This one is slow, like Thorin is savoring the moment like he is trying to memorize what it is like to have you. The moment is bliss, it's everything you wanted and thought you couldn’t have. 

And then it is ruined. A sharp whistle and laugh from across the lake separates the two of you once more. You turn and see Fili and Kili, holding each other and worse for wear but alive and smiling which you’ll take as a win.

The boys make their way towards you, Thorin never releases his hold on your waist.

“Is it over?” Fili asks.

‘It is now.” Thorin responds.

“Now what?” Kili pops up. Scanning the area around him.

‘We live.” Is your simple reply. Like Kili, you take a moment to look around you. And you really like what you see.

[skyeistrying]

can you do vi headcannons in a similar way to the sevika one?

♥️Vi HCs♥️

broken up into categories for general, romantic, and nsfw headcanons respectively.

safe for bisexual women, trans, and enby lesbians :)!

lower case is on purpose. not beta read, sorry for any typos.

men dni minors dni men dni minors dni men dni minors dni

general

her carabiner is on the left. it has the basics and a couple of cute handmade charms courtesy of her sister.

if she wasn’t an enforcer, she would be a professional boxer/pit fighter AFTER fighting becomes less of a coping mechanism for her.

i am not the first person to think of this but … she plays the guitar. she would be self taught.

she can sing pretty well too. used to sing powder lullabies their mom would sing.

LOOOOVESSSS HORROR MOVIES!!! she could probably go on a long rant about the history of horror as a genre, especially slasher films.

dog person. asks to pet almost every dog she sees on a walk.

she apologizes first after almost any argument she’s in.

it takes her 10-15 minutes TOPS to get ready, usually less than that.

smells like old spice and just her natural scent. very plain, but very comforting.

gives the best, most comforting hugs

sends streaks on snap.

romantic

and the world's best kisser award goes to…

seriously, she’s like a kissing god. gives the kind of kisses that have you weak in the knees. you get butterflies at the thought of kissing her.

every day before she leaves for work she kisses you SILLY!! like, you will be thinking about that kiss ALL day.

her giving and receiving love language is physical touch. no questions asked. she is constantly seeking your warmth.

she’s almost always touching you; an arm around your waist or shoulder, pinkies intertwined, hands brushing, holding hands.

if you aren’t keen on physical touch, don’t worry! she would be willing to set boundaries with you.

she isn’t very good at drawing but she loves to draw you in the margins of notebooks. tries her best to remember what your smile looks like and how your eyes are shaped, even for low effort doodles.

she is such a sweetheart. goes out of her way to get you flowers or chocolates, even when it isn’t valentine’s day.

will call you sooo many petnames. her favorites to use would be honey, baby, and sweetheart.

loves spooning. she looooves to be little spoon!! please let her be little spoon at least twice a week!!!

nsfw

She is almost exclusively a top, and she prefers it that way. However, for the right person, she might bottom once in a blue moon.

when it comes to dominance or submission, she mostly follows your lead. she's usually okay with either but will have moments where she prefers one over the other.

when she's feeling more dom, she lets you know immediately.

she has big hands and let’s just say she knows exactly how to use them.

sit on her face. just do it, please sit on her face or else she will die. sit on her face!!!!!

vocal!! in like, every way you can imagine! has the prettiest moans and tells you the sweetest things.

even when shes feeling controlling or dominant, she takes care to be gentle with you.

buuuut if you get her riled up enough she has no issue with a little man handling.

very experimental!!! down to try almost anything once.

hello dear anon! if you’re reading this, i hope you enjoyed. i had a lot more ideas for vi than i thought i would. i’d love to know if we have any common headcanons ^^!♥️🎠

my inbox is open for requests! i’ll write for any arcane character and have lots of other fandoms i write for too. i do more than just headcanons btw ♥️🎠

[feveredvisions]

Talking Body: Epilogue

(Harry Da Souza x you)  🔞

Here's Part 1 if u wanna read it x

Warnings: pussy eating, cunnilingus, power play, degradation, orgasm denial, public sex, car sex, possessive sex, dirty talk, bodily fluids (cum n squirt), bodily noises (queefing) Summary: The part where Harry Da Souza makes up for being consistently an absent boyfriend. He takes righting any mistakes seriously. And serving time for the offences he has committed against you and your relationship. He doesn't back down from facing the consequences of his actions. Especially not from you. Author's note: Fucking finally. I forced my sleep-deprived ass to finish this. At least before a new MobLand EP comes out this weekend. Could you tell I wrote this in a weird limbo between my dying ovulation phase and my incoming luteal phase? Love writing Harry btw. Can't wait to write more with his character. If you have any requests, just hmu on my ask box. Also, thank you so much for reading and sharing Kiss Me Thru The Phone. You're fucking crazy okay I love you. I hope you can forgive some typos and other weird grammatical errors and weird sentences I may have constructed. I am very eepy. Enjoy reading!

At closing time, after having a quick murmured conversation with the doorman, Harry strolled into Charlie's at half-twelve with you in his arm, wrapped like a protective steel band around your waist.

The dress you’re wearing now is a different one. A lilac chiffon dress with a slit up your thigh. When Harry reached home, seeing and smelling the roses drenched in your squirt and cum, poor man nearly ripped the new dress off you and fought against himself to mindlessly fuck the hell out of you on the petaled floor; on top of the soaked debauched sorry roses; and spoiling you with his vicious romancing the entire evening.

No. He was a better man than that.

Although he did dab a soaked petal on his neck and wrists. Liking how the natural scent of the rose mixed with your musk. But tonight, at midnight, which is technically the next day and is no longer the day of your anniversary, he remained dead set on making it up to you and preserving your efforts in reserving a table for two at Charlie’s. It was the least he could do to be a decent boyfriend. Stave off a new burning guilt amongst the sea of candle lit ones.

The host's face fell at the sight of the two of you. He recognised Harry Da Souza and was unsure if someone will be butchered alive at their restaurant or not at this time of night. Last time he was here, he took care of a feud between two quarreling gangs in an attempt to meet each other halfway to a peace pact and an apology towards each other. Both sides chose peace and a spit at each others leather shoes. So, with Conrad Harrigan's blessing, Harry had to make the final call to execute both gangs along with their heads to prevent any more trouble from arising in the future.

You, having no idea at all of that violence and chaos at all, smiled apologetically at the host and at the other staff who were already cleaning up the place.

Tonight, it’s all about him and his lady.

“Evening,” Harry drawls, flashing a sharp smile at the host. “Table for Mr. And Mrs. Da Souza, please.”

The host glanced at the done up empty dining room, the tables stripped from the expensive linen and silk and chairs already stored up on the table. He knew well not to decline a request from a man as powerful as Harry. The staff had already done cleaning up for their closing shift including the kitchen. Torn between wanting to close the private restaurant for the night and not wanting to piss off the assassin, the host tried his own way. “Sir, we're already—”

Harry places a roll of cash in the host's hand. “Keep the chef. Keep the wine. And keep ya fuckin’ mouth shut.”

The man pales. “R-right this way.”

Harry smirks, leaning in to whisper in your ear as you were led to a cosy table booth. “Told you, didn't I?”

You rolled your eyes at him. Show off. Sliding into the cozy plush seat of the intimate booth, then having Harry sit across you. He instinctively adjust the golden Rolex on his right wrist that glimmered under the dim warm lights.

The menu was a high-end formality. You ordered a bloody rare steak and a salad all for yourself. You handed the menu booklet back to the waiter with an innocent smile.

“And how about for you, sir?”

“None for him.” You immediately answered for Harry. “He's…on a strict diet.” Your sly gaze flicking at Harry. Oh it's fucking on.

The waiter knew not to question anything and simply nodded then walked away.

“Hmm,” Harry let out a soft grunt as his bearded jaw twitched. He knew it was his turn to be on the receiving end of however you wish to torture and get back at him. For your own satisfaction, this time, which he wouldn't mind fulfilling for you.

Harry Da Souza always pays his debts.

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

Your rare bloody steak arrived on a clean white ceramic plate along with the salad and complimentary bread and dip. The way it glistened under the dim chandelier lighting made your mouth water and your belly clench. Its juices pool at the bottom like a fresh kill. Exactly just how you liked it. A wicked smirk formed in your lips as you watched your beautiful, tortured, tough boyfriend—his nostrils flaring, his cock twitching in protest.

Harry watches, jaw tight, as you slice into the meat with deliberate slowness. Revealing the beautiful ombre of pink meat and its rich red myoglobin in the centre. The scraping of the silver knife on the plate made his fingers twitch. Whether from hunger or the urge to flip the table and fuck your glistening blushing pussy right there—he wasn't sure.

You take your time, swirling a nice bite in the juices then popping the meat in your mouth. Savoring the tender and juicy meat, its flavours bursting in your mouth. “Mmm, delicious.” you lick your lips. Glancing at Harry. “Shame you can't have any.”

Harry grabbed a piece of the smooth bread and began to tear it. “Fuckin' cruel, you are.”

“Cruel?” You tilt your head innocently. “I’m just making sure you don't have something heavy at midnight. I care about your health, baby.” Your words were filled with saccharine sweetness that made his eyes narrow at you.

Underneath the table, you kicked off your heels and slid one foot up his thigh until your toes brushed against the rigid outline of his cock straining against his trousers. 

Harry lightly shuddered. “Christ—”

“Under here, baby.” You tell him, tapping the tip of your finger, pointed down against the table. “Your dinner's waiting.”

Harry let out another grumble, but he obeyed. Briefly looking around the empty restaurant with the staff busy cleaning up and restoring tools in the kitchen and behind the bar. Then he slid down under the table without a word.

You bit on your lip as a grin spread across, spreading your thighs apart and moving your hips forward. Pushing the skirt of your dress up to your hips, he hooked both your legs over his shoulders and pressed himself closer. Looking up at you like a vicious hungry salivating disciplinaryd dog waiting for his master's orders and also a promising look that he will devour the absolute fuck out of you.

“Lick.” You ordered.

Harry obeyed. A gasp escaping your mouth as he leaned in, his groomed beard scratching your soft skin. His tongue dragging through your wet folds with a growl. His mouth was hot as he ate you hungrily. Starved for the taste of you.

You resume eating and slicing yourself a piece of your bloody steak, moaning both at the warm molten pleasurable sensation from getting your pussy eaten under the table and the orgasmic goodness from your taste buds. The best of both worlds.

“Mmmm…good dog,” you praised him. Smiling self-indulgently at him whilst you leaned against the back support of the sofa like a Queen.

Harry hooked his arms around your thighs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. The metal strap of his watch also making an imprint on your thigh. “You fuckin' tease,” he muttered against your plump slick cunt then went back in, his tongue working you open. Like he was trying to carve his name into your flesh. His mouth suckling you. Making loud, messy, wet, obscene noises.

Your basal temperature rose up to almost a fever pitch. “Fucking glutton,” you gasped. Grinding against his face. “Clean up your mess, dog.” You taunted as you reached one hand down to fist his hair.

Harry snarled, the vibration shooting straight to your clit. His fingers digging into your thighs, holding you open, yanking you harder against his mouth. Eating you harder like he was starving. His nose crinkling and his eyes sharp and fierce. Lips sealed tight, sucking, like he was trying to steal your soul. The host awkwardly scurried past, eyes averted, but you didn’t give a shit. Let them watch. Let them see what happens when Harry Da Souza was put on a leash.

“Slap it. Slap my pussy.”

“Fuckin’ hell, woman.” Harry pulls back just enough to glare at you. His lips glistening with your slick and his neatly trimmed beard soaked generously like a semi-unblended moisturiser.

There was a squishy wet smack from under the table as Harry slapped your sopping wet cunny, earning a hiss from you and a pleasurable tingle from your clit. The waiter who served your table and was lingering by the pass, flinched at the sound like he'd just been shot. Guiltily watching in astonishment from behind the bar across the room.

A broken laugh escaped your mouth. Smug and taunting. Harry answers with a rapid-fire volley of slaps, each one a wet rhythmic lewd punishment. It sounded of a drowned applause and a fish slapped against marble. Your hips stuttering as your pussy desperately audibly clenches to nothing until—pffftt—a long shameless bubbling queef puffing out in retaliation. Bubbles of air escaping out of you in rude bursts. As if your cunt herself was laughing at Harry this time.

Harry pauses. “Oh there's my girl.” Leaning down, his breath hit against your twitching hole.

“Talkin' shit, huh?” he spits directly onto your pulsing slit, the glob landing with a lewd splat, mixing in with your own slick. “Let’s hear it properly then.”

His tongue was back on you. Broad and ruthless, licking into as if he were carving his name on your flesh. 

It felt like your soul was about to take off. Your back arching off the couch, toes curling as your vision flashed white—eyes rolled back to the heavens and core gushing. Harry's tongue swipes slow and filthy over your clit, lapping at the mess he's made. Every suck pulls another shameful queef from your cunt, the air escaping in tiny, humiliating puffs against his tongue.

"Look at you. You're a disgrace," he mutters. His cock straining against his trousers. His cockhead weeping and his balls aching to be emptied inside you.

"Orderin' me 'bout like a fuckin' dog, starvin me. But this?" He flicks his tongue hard over your hole, making you squeal. "This is my fuckin' supper."

You drip like molten honey, thighs trembling as your orgasm bites up your spine. "Oh, you fuck!!”

It hits you like being defibrillated back to life. Your pussy walls clenching, pushing out a warm robust squirt straight into Harry's stupid smirking mouth as your queefs turn into helpless, wet sputters. He groans low and satisfied, holding your hips down as you thrash, his tongue working you through it, drinking every drop. When he finally pulls back, his chin glistening, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and shoots you a look of pure masculine arrogance.

"Next time," he says, tapping your swollen clit like it's a misbehaving pet, "ask nicer.”

You pouted petulantly at him as you slumped, wanton and a humming electricity in your warm skin. Popping a lukewarm slice of steak in your mouth. “We're not done, buddy.”

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

After the exclusive and explosive special dinner at Charlie's–paying another band of cash for the cleanup. You rushed out of the restaurant with Harry. Tugging him by the semi-open collar of his blouse. Having him unlock the car then pushing him into the backseat and crawling in after him. Immediately pouncing on him whilst you shook off your feet free from your high heels. Harry also undid his belt buckle and then his jeans zipper. The sound of the metallic clang of his belt and his zipper unzipping sending tingles to your clit.

Being Harry's tormentor, you didn't waste any more second straddling him. Thighs bracketing his hips. Grabbing onto his gold chain necklace and wrapping it around your fist like a leash.

Harry hissed and growled at you. Knocking the wind out your lungs as he slid his cock home into you. His chest reverberating a deep purr of satisfaction and pleasure. His big hands securely holding onto your hips as you rode him. Enjoying the smooth sensation of your hips undulating.

You crane your neck back as you let out a weak moan and a sigh of relief too from finally having him inside you after a long ass night. Your pussy hungrily suckling his stiff pulsating cock into it like a selfish starved animal. The leather seats creaked under your excitable bodies heavy with desire. Fogged windows sealing both of you in your own filthy little world. Your hips grinding down on his cock, slow and sadistic. 

Warm, slick walls fluttering around him like you were already winning. And fuck, it hurt.

Not the stretch. You were dripping and warmed enough to perfectly mould on his delicious veiny ridges. Always fucking dripping and malleable for him.

It was the denial. He could be easily plowing into you like a mindless horny animal, but no. You had to get your way, punish him and get back to him in a way that wouldn't involve biting each other's head off and screaming at him and getting screamed at that made your head throb.

You just made sure to pay attention to the way you rolled your hips sharply just to watch his jaw clench, the way your fingers twisted in his gold chain like a leash. Tugging him to submission. He was absolutely getting his money’s worth on his neck jewellery and more.

"You don't get to cum tonight, baby," you softly told him almost apologetically. It wouldn't kill him. And this wouldn't pull the two of you even further apart from each other.

You watched as a vein in his neck pulsated, his body radiating searing sensual heat. His golden chain smoothly grating against his sweat-slicked skin. You felt him up with your other free hand. Damp hairy chest with scars underneath that's visually covered by several tattoos. His heart pounding in his scorching hot chest.

Would it still be worth it staying one more month, one more year with him? Your heart itself is currently alight. Your innards warm and glowing. There are worse men out there.

Harry noticed you getting inside your head. Your eyes looking past his. He could always tell. Your hips slowed just a fraction, your grip on his chain going slack like you were about to let go entirely. And Harry hated that.So he dug his fingers into the meat of her thighs, nails biting just shy of pain, and smirked up at her.

"You love this, don't you, you spiteful little slag? Getting off on my fucking suffering.”

You barely had time to retort before he snapped his hips up, fucking into you with a brutal rhythm. The gold chain still wrapped around your fist jerked taut, biting into his throat as he laughed.

"Go on, then," he taunted, eyes glinting in a challenge. "Leash me proper. Show me what a good fucking mutt I am.”

Your pussy walls clenched around him, nails digging into his shoulders as you rode the edge of fury and desire, but Harry wasn't done.

"You know all those late-night 'clinic calls?'" His thumb swiped over your clit cruelly light, as he drove up into you again.'"The blood I scrub off before crawling into bed with you?" A sharp grin. "Fuck's sake, darling—you really think the NHS pays for this car?"

Your breath hitched. What? Was he joking? His cock twitched inside you in delight as he watched you unravel. What the fuck was he talking about? Your mind was deep into the sexual haze to even start processing shit. Or any thought at all.

"Harry—”

“Ah-ah." He flipped you onto your back leather seats sticking to your skin as he loomed over you. His golden chain dangling over your face and his glorious huge semi-naked body caging you in.

You reached a hand up, yanked his chain, and pulled him down into a biting kiss. He groaned into your mouth, letting you roll him back upright onto the seat, his hands sliding to your arse to guide your movements.

"Fuck yourself on me," he ordered, voice wrecked. "Make that greedy cunt sing. I wanna hear it.”

The heady scent mixture of musk, sweat, faint rose, your perfume, and sex—paired with the concentrated sound of your wet squelching sex filling the car. Your loud panting as you were back on your saddle, riding the hell out of your idiot. Harry Da Souza was your heaven on earth.

"Tell me-tell me who this cock belongs to."

"Mine!" You arched, nails raking down his back.

"Fuck yea." His teeth grazed your pulse point. "Keep fucking acting like it, Mrs. Da Souza.”

…

“You still don't get to cum.”

Harry lets out a laugh, causing you to laugh too as it felt ticklish with his cock fluttering inside you.

"Darling, last I checked, this cock belongs to you. So by that logic—”

You yanked his chain, cutting him off with a sharp tug of the strong metal gold against his throat. His smirk deepened in wicked amusement.

"Suck my tit," you ordered, voice rough with lust, "and shut the hell up while I ride you.”

Harry's grin was pure sin as he dipped his head, tongue flicking over your nipple before drawing it into his mouth with a filthy, deliberate suck. His eyes-dark, gleaming, mocking-locked onto yours as you rolled your hips, taking him deeper, harder.

You clench around him, relishing the way his breath stuttered. "Eyes on me, mutt."

His groan vibrated against your breast, his cock twitching inside you as your cunt clenched-then let out a shameless, wet queef, the sound obscene in the tight space.

Harry's hips jerked, his breath hitching against your skin. "Fuck!"

You smirked. "Problem, Da Souza?"

His grip on your arse turned bruising "Only that your pussy's got a fucking mouth on it," he growled, dragging you down onto him with a slap of skin. His hands trembling as he clung onto the sliver of effort in fighting against his body's nature to blow his load into you. "And it's begging me to fill it."

Your (author could no longer count how many times you've orgasmed in this storyxx) orgasm came in a flash, capturing your soul and then flooding your mind and nervous system like the cool spring water in the mountains. A cry of pleasure ripping out your throat as your body shook. Harry's control snapped too (he decided as much as he loved you making him your bitch or he will have brain haemorrhage) as his release hit him like a bullet, letting out a roar and then sinking his teeth into your shoulder to muffle his groan. Holding and squeezing your body tightly as his load flooded your walls.

As you winced from the perfect mixture of pain and pleasure and as the stormy seas of heady lust subsides, it was clear that Harry Da Souza was a knife pressed against your throat and, my god, you would rather bleed than to let go.

My head is soooo fucked but I hope u enjoyed all that. Thank you so much for reading my stuff xx

[joeldarling]

Crawling Back To You - Pt. I (Fix it!Joel x f!reader)

Summary: You are there with Joel but you can’t just watch them kill the love of your life without having the chance to confess your feelings.

Word count: 1.3k.

Warnings: There’s a bit of violence, I guess? But besides that there’s just reader and Joel being soft, no smut on this part. Trying to heal from losing our peepaw.

A/N: I guess I just can’t stop writing peepaw Joel. English it’s not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any typos or spelling mistakes. My requests are open! Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated. 💌

PART 2 HERE.

Your heart is pounding, louder than any drum. It feels deafening, as if the universe is collapsing, stopping completely. You are lying on the floor, Joel is a few feet away, the blonde girl whose name was completely irrelevant to you seemed to be enjoying torturing him. You just need a moment to regain your strength, to take a deep breath and fight for his life more fiercely than you usually fight for your own.

Joel and you were great friends, and although you felt something more, you never had the courage to confess your feelings and feared it might be too late now. You couldn't let him die, and that was the only certainty you possessed.

You heard distinct voices, apparently, the group as well. The grip on your arms and legs loosened for a second, distracted by what could be Tommy and the rest of the people, but it was enough for you to forcefully raise your body. They hadn't hurt you, of course, the revenge was only with Joel, but it didn't matter now. He was a good man regardless of his past, he was good to you.

You didn't usually put into practice the self-defense lessons you had with Joel; he was a grumpy teacher and sucked all your strength. In a few months, you had gained strong muscles and were no longer the defenseless girl who arrived in Jackson after a patrol rescue.

But now it was time to defend Joel, and you wouldn't let the man who brought forth so many feelings in your chest die at the hands of a stupid girl who didn't even understand his motivations. You became a mixture of pure hatred, you were unarmed but didn't need any object when the adrenaline roared in your ears furiously, and even trembling, you managed to escape. As you crawled closer to Joel, your legs still weak, you managed to pull the girl—Abby—by the ankle, knocking her to the ground, and when you faced her, it was pure hatred.

Your fists punched her face hard before you could even think, blood quickly spreading across your hands, as well as the latent pain. Tommy and the rest of the group had stormed the room, and chaos seemed to have erupted, everyone busy finishing it as quickly as possible because Joel clearly needed medical attention. Silence still echoed in your ears, tears streaming down your face. You couldn't tell when the body beneath yours stopped completely, but there were scratches where Abby's hands had tried to escape, the despair you had seen on Joel's face completely imprinted on hers, now deformed as you held her hair tightly, making her skull collide with the wooden floor with the same intensity, repeatedly.

A scream escaped your lips. The whole room was silent, a complete horror show, bodies scattered, alive and dead and wounded. At least, everyone seemed to be safe.

“Darlin’ stop. She’s already dead, sweetheart.’’ Joel said, his voice completely broken. His face was swollen from all the blows he had received, his breathing was shallow.

When you realized what you had done, you quickly backed away, falling down beside Joel. He had been shot in the leg, but it could have been worse. You started repeating in your mind how strong he was and that you would get out of this alive and safe. You began to sob, pushing the graying curls that fell across Joel's bloodied face with your fingers.

"Please... don't leave me." You pleaded, begged to Joel and to any other deity. The uncertainty was like a knife entering your chest, piercing forcefully and making it impossible to breathe.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, darlin’...” He coughed, trying to prop himself up, but you were quicker, not letting him. That short moment felt like hours, but quickly everyone was around Joel, especially Tommy, who looked even paler, terrified at the possibility of losing his brother.

You were scared, in pure shock. You had never killed anyone before and hoped you would never have to again. Joel needed urgent medical attention, and the hardest part was moving him safely; his groans of pain were terrifying, and air only returned properly to your lungs when he was relocated to the safety of your home, despite all the chaos, attended by one of the young women who had medical experience. He would remain under observation for a few days, although that didn't mean much with the limited resources they had there and everything it would take for the community to recover.

But you didn't leave his side for a moment, even though you urgently needed more hours of sleep. You couldn't bear the thought of being anywhere else but there, holding his hand and making sure nothing bad could happen to him. No one objected to you staying there.

One afternoon, about a week later, Joel opened his eyes. He had remained unconscious for most of the time, but you knew it would take time; he was out of danger now. He grunted softly; you were asleep near him, your face against his bandaged arm, your hand holding his with some force. He remembered few things, but definitely how you had fought for his life; they were good friends, yes, but he would have done the same.

Joel was too old now, his back ached for no apparent reason, just the weight of age, but you brought some color to his days with your silly jokes and a few slices of apple pie during the spring, as well as all the self-defense lessons that had proven extremely useful that day. He watched how you, even in your sleep, looked tense. Joel cleared his throat, causing you to wake up suddenly, startled. He didn't like how his own stomach seemed to perform strange maneuvers, twisting just with the soft scent emanating from your hair, the proximity bringing him a strangeness he hadn't felt in years.

He had fought too long against all of that, especially against what you represented to him, but not anymore. Joel was tired of fighting against the current that you represented for him.

"Joel! You're awake!" You said, surprised, your face a bit wrinkled from sleep, hurrying to give him a careful hug, your heart pounding hard once again. The scars on his face were still apparent and somewhat swollen, but he seemed well enough to stay awake for more than a few minutes, and that brought an unexpected wave of relief to you.

“Told ya’, darlin’, not goin’ anywhere.” Joel said, smiling as best he could, tired. He returned the hug, feeling completely relieved and especially grateful to you. He would have done the same without hesitation, but he hadn't expected you to be so willing to fight for his life.

"I was so afraid of losing you..." Your voice was trembling again; you realized tears were threatening your eyes, but you made no effort to hold them back.

“Well, honey, thanks to ya’, there will be plenty of new self defense lessons.” His laugh was still weak, but it was still Joel, your Joel.

You would have all the time in the world for them to talk, because even if he never felt the same way, just having him nearby would be enough for you. Joel was like the missing piece in your puzzle, the feeling that consumed you as motivation on days when hope seemed lost.

There, in his arms, you finally relaxed. Neither of you needed words to understand the meaning of peace, of what you felt; you would have done anything else necessary to save him without hesitation. He was all you had left. Joel kissed the top of your head; they would have much to do and talk about soon, but now, you just wanted to enjoy the familiarity of the arms where you were sure you belonged.

"They're even planning a party for when you get out of here. Everyone was so scared..." You whispered softly, not daring to pull away.

“Party…? Are ya’ gonna be my pair?” He said in a playful tone, but when you lifted your face again, your eyes meeting his, you knew.

You really knew.

[ilovegeorgie]

hi !! I’m obsessed with your writing .. do you think you could do something with george and reader works somewhere in the studio like pining real fluffy .. thank youuu 💞

cloud nine

george harrison x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none !

summary: geo getting all flustered and nervous bc of her

a/n: hii, thanks for requesting, it was so fun to write (and kinda rushed, so srry for any typo or smt), hope yall like it :D

there was something about the way she moved around the studio that george noticed it every time. he told himself he wasn’t watching her, really, maybe just… noticing. noticing the way her brow furrowed when she adjusted the levels on the soundboard, the way she tucked her pen behind her ear when she leaned over notes, the way she smiled, god, the way she smiled when she didn’t think anyone was looking.

and it slowly killed him.

george sat on a stool in the recording booth, guitar in his lap, pretending to tune it even though it was already perfectly in key. his eyes flicked to the control room glass, there she was, biting the end of her pencil while listening to the tracks. every once in a while, she’d write something down, then laugh at something paul said through the intercom. george caught that laugh like it was a song stuck in his head.

“she’s just doing her job, y’know,” john said beside him, smirking.

“i didn’t say anything,” george mumbled, but his ears were already turning red.

“you don’t have to,” paul chimed in from across the room, lounging on the couch. “you go all dreamy every time she walks by, it’s adorable, really.”

“oh shut up.”

“you should tell her,” ringo added, munching on crisps. “before one of these days you explode or something.”

“i’m not going to "explode",” he muttered, strumming a little too hard on the guitar.

the truth was, he didn’t know how to tell her. she was brilliant and knew all the techy things that he could never wrap his head around. and he… well, he wrote little songs and stared at her too long.

...

then came that one evening, late in the session. the others had gone for a break, but george lingered, plucking a few chords while she stayed in the control room, scribbling something in her notebook.

he looked up, their eyes met through the glass. she gave him a small wave, then gestured toward the intercom.

“play that again, please?” her voice crackled through the speaker. “the little bit you just did.”

he blinked, then played it again, softer this time, sweeter. she tilted her head, smiling.

“that’s nice,” she said.

“really? wrote it a while ago about someone,” he replied before he could stop himself.

there was a pause.

“oh yeah?” she asked gently, her smile faltering just a bit. “anyone I know?”

he hesitated, fingers hovering over the strings. then, in a rare burst of bravery, he leaned toward the mic and looked her right in the eye.

“it´s about you,” he said.

the room went still. no sound but the faint hum of the equipment.

she didn’t speak for a moment, just blinked surprised. then her face lit up, soft and glowing, like she'd been hoping for that exact moment without even realizing it.

“well,” she said, voice soft through the speaker, “i hope you keep writing.”

...

george wandered into the café down the street with his coat collar pulled up and his hair still a bit tousled from sleep. the rest of the boys were already there, halfway through their breakfast and gossiping like old ladies.

“you’re late, romeo,” john teased, raising an eyebrow as george slid into the booth.

“oh please,” george muttered, stealing a piece of toast from paul.

“come on,” paul grinned. “tell us what happened, you looked like you were gonna pass out last night after that whole ‘it´s about you’ line.”

ringo leaned forward eagerly. “she smiled, right? looked dead pleased?”

george tried not to smile but failed miserably. “she said she hoped i kept writing, maybe i think she may like me too.”

john clutched his heart in fake agony. “young love, it makes me sick.”

“oh, please just shut up,” george mumbled through a mouthful of toast.

“you should ask her out,” ringo said with a shrug.

george blinked. “just like that?”

“well, you like her, you think she likes you, so what’re you waiting for, a sign from the sky?”

he thought about it for a second, the way she looked at him through the glass, the way her voice had gone just a little shy when she asked, “anyone i know?”

“right,” he said, half to himself. “right, yeah i’ll do it.”

...

back at the studio, she was a blur of movement. scribbling notes, adjusting mics, talking too fast, laughing too loud, something was definitely off.

george watched her for a moment, brows furrowed.

he caught her arm gently as she passed him the third time, still mid-sentence about the track settings.

“hey,” he said, voice low, steady. “are you alright?”

“yeah! just a bit behind on schedule, and i’ve got to-”

“you’re nervous.”

she froze, blinking up at him. “i’m not.”

he tilted his head slightly, gaze soft but fixed on her. “you’ve been avoiding me since i got in.”

“i haven’t.”

“yes, you have, is it because of what i told you yesterday?.”

she took a small step back, flustered, cheeks flushed. “i just, it’s been a weird morning and i’m trying not to overthink things and-”

she turned like she was about to pace again, but george stepped in front of her, just close enough to stop her in her tracks. close enough that she had to look up at him.

the air shifted.

her eyes widened a little, lips parted in surprise. “george?”

he looked nervous too, but his voice was warm, steady. “you’ve got me thinkin’ i did something wrong.”

she shook her head quickly. “no-no, it’s just... yesterday, it felt so surreal. i didn’t know if you meant it or if-”

“but i did,” he said, and he smiled softly. “i really mean it.”

she was quiet for a moment, heart racing. then, finally, she exhaled, her shoulders relaxing slightly.

“i was afraid you’d change your mind,” she admitted.

george leaned in a bit, his nose brushing hers, his voice barely above a whisper. “not a chance.”

she smiled, really smiled, and he thought it might be the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

his grin turned a little lopsided. “go out with me? please?”

“how could i say no?,” she said, breathless.

and in the hallway, with a dozen things still unfinished and the sound of john yelling something ridiculous from the studio door, george kissed her, softly, like he’d been wanting to for ages.

[fineprintedsunsets]

Кролик; Bunny

ೃ⁀➷ It's the dreaded time of month and all you want to do is curl up in bed. Your soldat has other plans. ೃ⁀➷ p in v sex. dirty talk. soldat!bucky. mentions of blood. period sex. (soldat not giving a fuck). breeding kink. mentions of pads/pain. fingering. possible typos. ೃ⁀➷ 1.2k

i hate my period so much, writing about this brute helps me cope🧸

seb masterlist

Oh no. No. No. Not today. Not now.

Fuck, You hate mother nature.

The sheets of your bed are stained a red hue. Little spots and specks paint the white fabric and your thighs are sticky with blood.

Your fucking period. If you had enough energy you could just slam a fist into the wall, broken bones be damned.

You whimpered and whined all the way to the shower, stomach aching, legs weak. You made sure to tear off the sheets and add them to the heaping pile of laundry in your room.

As soon as you stripped yourself of your clothes and felt the steaming water hit your skin, all was forgiven. The sound of water hitting the cheap chipped tile was so relaxing you would give everything you had to be in this state forever.

Unfortunately, a girl has a water bill.

ღ

You changed your clothes, put on low-cut shorts, and bought a shit ton of pads. It was only the first day and your flow was already heavy.

The cramps were bearable, but you could tell they were going to get a whole lot worse. Which led to your current state, in bed, lights turned off, head against a cold pillow, and blinds drawn.

An unbreakable fortress of cold pillows and snakes you managed to hoard in anticipation for this day's arrival.

You couldn’t turn on the tv, the light was harsh and irritating. So you just sat in darkness, eating Resses and groaning in pain.

Your only thought was “when would he arrive"?

ღ

“Кролик” (Bunny) a heavy voice woke you from your sleep. A familiar musk of gunpowder and him filled your head.

“You're bleeding.” He says from the shadows. You find your fingers gripping your blankets in both anticipation and fear. Your breath hitches.

He smells it, smells you.

“You need to be bred.”

Fuck.

The Winter Soldier, soldat, in his six-foot-tall frame, rounds the side of your bed. The harsh fabric of his suit, made to withstand all kinds of obstacles was now in front of your vision.

The soldat didn’t bother to take his combat boots off before sliding into bed with you. He kneeled on the mattress, denting it.

You waited in anticipation, legs slightly parted, breath coming in slow gasps as heat filled your entire body.

“Remove your shorts. Or is it too painful?” In a way, he’s mocking you, a way of saying you will always need his help. If you weren’t drunk off him right now, you’d recoil. Sober you would not have heat pooling in her core right now.

“Hurts- Soldat. Please take them off.” You wiggled your hips to emphasize. The soldats mask covers his face, muffling the groan he made when sliding the fabric off your legs.

Your body jolted when cold metal fingers met your clothed core. You tried your best to hold in the moan you held in your throat.

“Shh…quiet, кролик” You know there’s blood on your panties, you know the soldat does too.

Except, he doesn't seem to give a shit. His fingers prod at your entrance before removing your panties entirely, along with the pad stuck to them.

The soldat looks at your cunt, the mask hiding any real facial expression. You shiver from the cold air hitting your exposed folds.

He takes two metal fingers and slides them through your folds, gathering both blood and slick. The soldat purrs as you whine. “Relax -Going to hurt, stay still.”

You do as you are told, unable to stop the soldat as he places a flesh hand against your stomach, while two metal digits slide into your cunt.

"Beautiful, sweetheart.” The Soldat hums, pushing down just a little on your tummy as the digits slowly slide in and out of you. The pain eases at whatever he’s doing to you, and pleasure becomes more prominent.

You can hear the sound of your slick as he fingers you, your back arching off the bed as he picks up the pace, adding more pressure to your stomach. “Good, кролик. Right there.”

“Doing so well for your soldat. -think you can cum for him? Hmm?”

Fuck. The edge is so fucking close and your itching to barrel over it. The soldier can feel your cunt squeezing his fingers and can see the look in your eyes as you're about to come.

His metal digits speed up, going at a pace that is sure to push you over the edge. He releases his flesh hand from your stomach to pinch your aching clit.

It’s over from there. “Soldat! Soldat- fuck ” you cry out, heart pumping and legs shaking as he works you through it, pumping his fingers in and out of you.

“So good for your soldat. Look so pretty when you come for him, so beautiful.” The soldat slides his fingers out of you, wiping your juices on his pant leg.

The soldier undoes his belt buckle, sliding off the weapon-studded pants and throwing them into the darkness of the bedroom. His cock is throbbing, angry, and red.

“Ready to be bred, Кролик? Take all you're given?” His boxers are next, his metal hand wraps around the waistband. The fabric is torn from his body in one snap.

Your legs shake and your hips squirm as he lines his cock up with your entrance, his body crowding over you, balancing himself with a hand on the headboard. “You're so wet. I bet I’d just…”

His cock nudges your fold, “-Slide right in.” The pain hits you immediately as the soldat bottoms out. You can hear him curse in Russian under the mask, as he rests his head on your shoulder.

Skin meets skin as he gives time for you to adjust to his size. You’ve taken him many times before, but it’s different on your cycle.

It’s like your womb opens up a little more for him.

“So good, sweetheart.” He moans, sliding out to just half of his length before snapping his hips to you. You can feel everything. Every throbbing vein on his cock, every breath he groans through his mask.

The Soldat always has a primal urge when you're bleeding, he needs to come inside you, needs to breed your cunt.

He wants to mark you as his.

“Soldat-" you moan, feeling his cock slide out another couple of inches, until he’s balls deep again, kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock.

The entire bed shakes with the force of the soldat fucking you, and he fucks you hard. He’s so needy, desperate to fill you up with his seed. His moans and groans do not go unheard as his flesh hand presses on your stomach.

“Watch me fuck you, Кролик. See me sliding in and out?” All you can do is nod your head, words do not come easily.

Winter Soldier presses that hand on your tummy, pushing down as he stills, balls pressed to your skin as his cock twitches inside of you. “Feel me in your guts."

A few more thrusts has you clamping down on his cock, and when the soldier feels it, he goes fucking feral.

“Milk your Soldat's cock while he fills up your pretty pussy.” The soldier does exactly as he promises, shooting rope after rope of cum inside you.

Later, he flips you on your back so your pressed to his muscled chest, cock stuffing you full, keeping his load inside you. The Soldat mutters something like, “helps with the pain.”

And damn him, he’s right.

[agi-ppangx]

💭right person, wrong time (100 followers special)

chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin

“you should definitely go,” chan said quietly, his voice strained and filled with misery. you didn't say anything back, quietly fighting the tears angrily wailing in your eyes.

you two were lying on the beach, listening to waves hitting the shore. the sea was restless that day - as if it sensed your mood. you were cuddled with him on a small blanket you took from the car, surrounded by his cologne, the scent you knew all too well and loved even more. 

you'd just told him about the offer you received a few days before. you were given this huge opportunity which could possibly change your entire career for better. though there was something that made this whole thing a bit less exciting. yes, you got into a one-year program for aspiring scientists, but it was taking place in canada. but who would reject such a great opportunity to finally spread their wings? who would even question whether to go or not? well, that would be you. of course, it was huge and it could quite literally change your whole life - better income, bigger knowledge, more opportunities to work with respected scientists in the future. but then there was chan. 

you two met almost five years earlier. you were friends with felix, who happened to be chan’s friend as well, so it was natural for the two of you to meet up at different occasions. and the bond between you grew and grew. he would help you to figure out how to write an essay for a particularly mean lecturer even though he knew shit about the topic. and he would always bring you snacks and coffee for your late study sessions, helping you to write and cut the flashcards and proofread your drafts to check if there are any typos and grammar mistakes. but you two would also enjoy mundane activities such as going to the movies or cooking together. you would spare shy glances at him when he wasn’t looking just to admire him. in the meantime he shared his love for music with you, creating you various playlists for different occasions and playing piano for you. he'd never told you before, but with you he felt safe, as if any worries in his life disappeared when you approached him, you were his haven. and over the time you realised that you couldn’t lie to yourself anymore - his shiny eyes, soft smile and unique worldview made you fall in love with him too. of course, you hadn’t figured it out in a few days, you simply couldn’t. but after what seemed like eternity you both sorted things out in your heads and a week ago you finally talked about it. and when you thought that everything in your life was coming together the offer came and you started questioning every single decision you have ever made. you thought about how are you going to tell chan about it - you knew he would be supportive, of course he would. and you loved that about him. but deep down you were hoping, just a little bit, that he’s going to be selfish this time, that he’s going to tell you “please stay here with me”. but he simply couldn’t, he knew this was too big for you to let it go. 

“you do want to go, right?” he then asked, there was panic in his voice at your lack of response. why was he panicked? “i guess so…” you finally mumbled, not sure at the moment. all you knew is that you wanted to be where you were right now - in chan’s arms, surrounded by his warm body and this pretty cologne. 

“what do you mean? i mean, you love your job, it’s a great offer. i’m pretty sure not everyone got it” he spoke again, trying to help you, convince you that this is what you should do right now. in reality he tried to convince himself, not wanting to say anything that could discourage you from going. of course he wanted you to make your dreams happen, your happiness was his happiness. but why now? 

"sure, i love my job, i just… now i wanna be here, with you," you mumbled, cheeks rosy. suddenly you felt embarrassed, because who on earth would put a boy over a great career? 

but chan wasn't just a boy, he was a person you could quite literally see your future with. it didn't matter that you weren't really in a real relationship yet, you both knew it was just a formality now. "hey, yn, i'm not mad that you're leaving now. i want you to be happy and i know this is gonna make you happy, yeah?" he whispered, his voice getting weaker and weaker with every word. you suddenly got up, breaking free from his warm embrace. "you know what would make me happy now? being here, with you," you shouted, angry tears welling in your eyes. "going to the convenience store at 2am to buy some snacks, watching a new movie on netflix and cuddling on a sunday morning. you would make me really happy now," you whispered the last words, feeling defeated. what was the point of lying? he knew how you felt towards him. 

the tears started falling down your face and you started to shiver from the cold wind. chan didn't waste time, he got up as well and brought you to his chest, hugging tightly, and started rubbing soothing circles on your back. he muttered sweet nothing into your hair, kissing your forehead from time to time. but you couldn't calm down, not now. you wanted to let out your anger and misery, wanted the whole world to know how deeply hurt you're right now. you wanted to scream on the top of your lungs at whoever was up there, cursing at them for putting you in this situation. 

but you sobbed into chan's chest instead, desperately clutching at his hoodie. you were like a porcelain doll, fragile and defenseless. 

"it sucks, you know? i-i really thought we could be together but-" you hiccuped through tears. at this point your head hurt, your eyes stung and you grew more and more tired. "it's okay, i'll wait for you however long you want me to" chan interrupted you, sensing your pain. it was hard for him too, knowing he has to set you free and let you spread your wings. how bittersweet, chan thought. he was willing to wait for you, but god, was he impatient by nature. he wanted to kiss you hungrily, clutch into your clothes and never let go. but now it would only broke the two of you even more and he was not letting it happen. 

you stayed like this for a long time, over the time your broken sobs stopped, but you didn't let go of chan, clutching to him like a koala. he was quiet, running his fingers through your hair. 

"i don't want you to regret going, yn" chan spoke suddenly, his voice barely above the whisper. "i don't mind waiting, i just want you to go there and make your dream come true, 'cause seeing you happy will make me happy." you sighed and finally looked up to make eye contact with chan. "you know i love you, right?" chan was caught of guard by your words, but he smiled nonetheless. he nodded and placed a soft kiss on your temple. "i will come back and when i do i'll make sure to compensate you this year," you exclaimed, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it. 

a few days later chan accompanied you to the airport. you didn't want to let go of his hand, as if he was going to disappear as soon as you do. but the time didn't stop for the two of you and you had to say your goodbyes. "can i kiss you?" chan asked you and you looked at him. "not now. if you do, i won't go anywhere." he only smiled sadly at your words but nodded his head. he understood. with that you pecked his cheek instead and let go of his hand with tears in your eyes. "see you soon, chan" you whispered. "see you soon, yn".

feedback and reblogs highly appreciated🫶🏽

[alittlebitofloveliness]

can you pls write something with purly where curly hurts pony’s feelings and they argue but then curly tries everything to get pony to forgive him :))) basically super angsty with a happy ending

Hi anon! Sorry this took so long but it's also way longer than I anticipated so I hope it lives up to expectations. It's also not edited so please excuse any typos. Please lmk what you think xx

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

“Fuck off, Curly!”

Curly has been told to fuck off a lot in his life. In fact, he’d even say he’s been told to fuck off by Ponyboy a lot in his life- but until now Ponyboy’s never meant it. Not really.

Now though, with his dreamy eyes blazing and his hands curled into fists it’s clear that Pony means it and Curly has well and truly fucked everything up. Tim was right- he really does ruin everything.

“Pony-”

He’s cut off when Pony takes a swing at him, and just barely manages to duck out of the way. It’s a testament to how much he likes Ponyboy and how sorry he is that he doesn't swing back. Restraint is not something he was raised with in the house where he learned to meet violence with violence because it’s better to leave a mark on someone else than to take all that hurt without dishing out your own.

Still. It doesn’t mean he’s not angry.

“Can you just fucking talk to me? I said I was sorry!”

“And I told you to fuck off, so fuck off!” Pony rages back, “You come anywhere near my house an’ I’ll set Darry after ya with a baseball bat! Me’n you are done Curly Shepard! Done!”

He storms off and Curly lets him because he’s lost a lot of people in his fifteen years and knows the look Pony just gave him is as final as any coffin being lowered into the ground or any car disappearing around a street corner.

Suddenly, he has the horrible urge to cry. Instead, he bites the inside of his cheek hard until it floods with the taste of iron and makes his way to the liquor store, eager to forget everything that’s just happened and everything he’s just lost.

The broad behind the counter doesn’t seem to get the hint untill he pulls out his switchblade and makes it clear he isn’t asking to leave with the whiskey, he’s telling her he is. She yells after him, something about cops and trouble and Curly doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything. 

Tim finds him when he’s drank at least a third of the bottle, chucking rocks at passing trains and spoiling for a fight. He’s close enough to Brumly territory it won’t be hard to find one if he really goes looking, and Marshall Decicio and him tussle often enough all he’d have to do is look at him wrong, but apparently Tim isn’t in the mood to have to drag him off of someone or out of a bar tonight because he pulls up in the beat up old pickup truck and tells him to get in.

For a second he thinks about refusing, about pissing Tim off too so he’d leave him alone like he deserves, but Tim is not the sort to take no for an answer and Curly wants to fight but doesn’t want to fight him, so he relents and gets in. Tim doesn’t say much, but Curly can tell that he knows, and the shame that bubbles up in him makes it so he can’t even look at him.

Ma is holding court in the living room when they get home, high as a kite at three in the afternoon, her buddies all in a similar state. She’s got some of the good stuff out on the table and for a second Curly considers reaching for it, considers taking something that will grant him a far better oblivion than the one his bottle has yet to offer, despite the fact it’s now almost half empty. 

Tim yanks him away before he can.

“I know you love him,” he says, and Curly’s heart fucking sinks because he does, even if he couldn’t say it, and now Ponyboy wants nothing to do with him ever again, “but don’t go down a road you can’t come back from just ‘cause you don’t wanna feel it right now.”

“But-”

“No.” He can’t quite decipher the look in Tim’s eyes through his boozed up haze, “You’re not Ma, Curly. Don’t let yourself be.”

He half tosses half drags Curly to his room then, and Curly considers climbing out the window just to be a shit, but it’s warm in here, and Angel isn’t home right now so for once he has the room to himself. Him’n Pony could’ve been hanging out here, if Curly hadn’t been such a monumental asshole.

Hours later, when Angela gets back she finds him on the floor, lighting match after match just to blow them out again, his whiskey near empty at his feet. He’d thrown most of it up around the same time he choked a lot of it down, and while it hasn’t done much to get Ponyboy out of his head it sure has dulled any plans to go out again and do something stupid. He’d tried standing a little while ago and discovered he couldn’t seem to walk right. 

“Idiot,” Angel says when she sees him, but it lacks any of her usual scorn, and not for the first time Curly thanks his unlucky stars that Angel- who isn’t soft for anyone- can sometimes be soft for him. When he needs her, and sometimes even when he doesn’t.

She grabs his latest lit match and uses it to light herself a cigarette, before hauling him to his feet and dumping him on his mattress. 

“You ain’t gonna puke are you?”

“Already did,” Curly mumbles, suddenly feeling more sick than he has in a while and Angel just nods, sitting next to him and pulling her knees to her chest.

She’s small, like him, always has been but she makes up for it by having a big attitude and a big temper, and right now, a big protective streak. 

“You okay?”

And, no, Curly thinks it’s pretty obvious he isn’t.

Angela nods. “I uh, I heard what happened.”

A fresh wave of guilt claws its way up Curly’s throat. 

“It’s stupid,” Angela continues, and Curly snaps his head up to stare at her. He’d made fun of Pony’s dead best friend. It was cruel was what it was, and Curly has never known how not to be cruel, but there's no one he’d tried not to hurt as much as Ponyboy and then he’d gone and hurt him anyway. 

You ruin everything. Tim’s words from a week ago echo in his head again and he bites his cheek again to stave off the tears. 

“Stupid or not,” Curly hears his breath hitch, “he ain’t ever gonna speak to me again.” 

Angela fixes him with a glare. She’s good at that. 

“Make him.”

“Angel-”

“Are you a Shepard or not? You know well as I do that if you want something you have to take it.”

“Oh sure,” he rolls his eyes but stops immediately when it makes his brain hurt, “I’ll just go over to the Curtis place and start chattin’ while Darrel Curtis beats my head in.”

“Jesus, quit bein’ a drama queen, that's Ponyboy's job. Yours is to fix this.” She rolls her eyes, “Or don’t. Go ahead and rot for all I care.” 

She climbs to her feet, scrubbing a hand through his hair before she leaves, muttering under her breath about how this is the last time she tries to help him with anything.

Curly grins. He’d never admit it, but Angel really is his best friend in the whole damn world, for all she’s a bitch of the highest degree. She knows the score. 

Suddenly, it’s easy to fall into a dreamless sleep.

When Curly wakes the next morning, head pounding and mouth drier than Tim’s sort of humour, he’s ready. It’s time to put his plan into action. 

If getting out of bed was torture, walking into WIll Rodger’s high school has to be his own personal hell. He can already barely stand this place when he isn’t violently hungover, but Ponyboy will be here and Curly only ever wants to be where he is, even if they aren’t speaking right now.

They only have two classes together- spanish, where Curly usually sits beside him and whispers dirty things in his ear Pony has long since learned not to ask the teacher to translate for him- and phys ed. Pony’s too smart for them to be in anything else together, and PE isn’t until the end of the day. No way is Curly sticking around that long.

So spanish it is.

He’s fifteen minutes late when he walks into the class but the teacher just sighs and tells him to take a seat. Honestly, Curly thinks the old guy’s got a soft spot for him. He used to think it was because he speaks spanish already so the teacher didn’t much have to worry about trying to teach him, but Angel speaks it too and Mr. Dimirend can’t stand her so Curly doesn’t know. Must be his irresistible charm.

His usual seat is taken by a blond haired soc Curly decides is his new enemy number one, so he takes an empty seat at the back of the class and gets to work making spitballs.

The first is a direct hit, landing in Pony’s slicked back hair and sticking there, but the guy’s got a mop that could rival Curly’s own and he doesn’t seem to feel it. Spitball two goes wide, then Mr.Dimirend sets them a speaking task and everyone turns to their seat partner and starts talking in a horrible bastardization of Curly’s beloved native tongue, so he gets distracted by sending spitballs at the worst of them. Honestly, this is supposed to be an AP class. You’d think they’d at least try and roll their ‘r’s. 

Socy Blond McFuckface is trying and failing to ask Ponyboy what his favourite colour is when Curly’s spitball lands right in his wide open mouth and the kid gags, immediately spitting and starting to choke. Curly rolls his eyes. it’s not like he’s gonna die from a spitball.

Of course the whole thing kind of becomes a deal, and Mr.Dimirend looks kind of concerned, but Ponyboy is stifling laughter so the whole thing is kind of worth it, even when he gets detention- at least, it’s worth it until he tries to meet Pony’s gaze and share the joke and Pony pointedly refuses to look at him, jaw tightening as he turns back to the front. 

Curly gets up and walks out of class, deaf to Mr. Dimirend yelling after him. What does it even matter? It’s not like he doesn’t already know how to conjugate verbs in the conditional future tense.

Besides, he’s got a more important conditional future to worry about right now.

Phys ed isn’t until the end of the day, but Tim isn’t here to make him go to his other classes so Curly sure as hell isn’t gonna. He thinks maybe he might go key some socs car in the lot just to feel something. Or maybe he’ll try and find Bryon Douglas so he can beat the shit out of him.

“Curly Shepard I know that’s not you skippin’ your english class right now.”

Despite himself, Curly grins.

 “Me? Skip class? C’mon Miss D, you know I’d never,” he drawls, giving his best impression of Angel’s wide eyed innocent look, “I gotta keep all them dirty hoods in line.”

The lunch lady shakes her head, giving him her best unimpressed look even as her black eyes twinkle. Curly doesn’t respect pretty much any adult figure, but he can’t help but like Miss D. She reminds him a bit of how abuela used to be whenever she was sober and before she went senile. Except she’s a lot smaller than abuela ever was, and her skin is a few shades darker than abuela’s, closer to his own shade than to Tim or Ma’s. 

Miss D tilts her head, sizing him up. He fully expects her to frog march him to his english class, scolding him all the while in her native Tamil that he wouldn’t comprehend but would understand just the same. 

“Come with me,” she says instead, tuning on her heel, and Curly knows better than to argue. Usually with the aunties or grandmothers it’s best to do as he’s told.

Miss D leads him through the back door of the cafeteria and through the kitchen, all the way to a tiny back room that’s probably used for prep if the walk in fridge and counter space is any indication. She pulls down a cutting board and parks him in front of it, dropping a pile of tomatoes beside him.

“Here.” She passes him a knife (and isn’t that a bold choice), “Slice them into circles for me.”

“If I’d known you was gonna set me to work I mighta taken my chances with the english class.” 

He wouldn’t and Miss D knows it, because she simply raises an eyebrow at him. Curly picks up a tomato and starts chopping.

Miss D. gets her own cutting board set up, her slices a lot faster and more even than Curly’s, before she speaks.

“You are upset.” She’s not asking, and for the millionth time Curly wonders how she seems to always know everything, “Why? What did you do?”

Curly glares down at the cutting board and slices a tomato a tad harder than is probably necessary. 

“Nothing.”

“Do not lie to me, boy.”

The words are severe but her tone is kind. He’s always been comforted by her accent, a remnant of her life back in Ceylon, so different from abuela’s but alike in how different is it from the drawl of everyone else in the american south. Maybe that’s why she can always manage to get him to spill his guts, even when he doesn’t really want to. Abuela used to be able to make him do the same.

“My best buddy is mad at me,” he admits, and it sounds stupid but it isn’t because Pony is his best buddy but he is also more than that, so much more, and he can’t lose the only person who seems to like him no matter how stupid or reckless or strange he is. He can’t. 

Miss D hums. “And why is he mad?”

“I did something stupid,” Curly admits, the shame welling in his chest along with the urge to go and do something dumb to forget about it, “we were arguing and I said something mean. Like, horribly mean. I forgot that he ain’t Angel or Tim, that it wasn’t like at home where it’s no holds barred and we just move on, yknow? I forgot he wouldn’t realize I didn’t mean it, not really. His house-” he hesitates, struggling to put stuff into words. Feelings have never made sense to him, and now is no exception, “his house ain’t like mine, y’know? Every fight in his family ain’t a fight for survival so he don’t ever say stuff like what I said to him, and I-I ruined it. He’s the best buddy I ever had and I ruined it, the way I ruin everything.”

“I see,” Miss D says, scooping his chopped tomatoes into a bin, and waving him to follow her into the kitchen, “that seems like a difficult situation.”

“Whatever.” Curly says, sick and tired of being vulnerable and mad Pony makes him this way, “I don’t care.”

“Now you aren’t just lying to me, you’re lying to yourself.” 

“It ain’t a lie.” Curly lies.

Miss D shakes her head as she drops a basket of fries into the fryer, the tomatoes waiting on the counter. Must be burger day then- for anyone who can aofford it that is. 

“We were having such a good chat. Don’t run away from me now.”

Curly shakes his head, refusing to meet her eyes.

“Curly Shepard,” suddenly she’s in front of him, her twinkly dark eyes staring into his own blue ones, “you listen to me now, and you listen good. You do not ruin everything. Some things, yes. You are not always a good boy. But I have yet to hear of an instance where Ponyboy Curtis has not forgiven someone he cares about.”

Curly’s eyes widen, “how did you-”

“I hear much of the school gossip,” Miss D dismisses, waving a hand, “I work in the cafeteria. And you do not have many friends. It was not hard to guess.”

Geez. He really is pathetic when it comes to Ponyboy if even Miss D knows they’re buddies. No wonder Angel rags on him for it. 

“Now,” Miss D. continues, “did you apologize to him?”

“Yes! I said I was sorry.”

“That is not always the same thing.”

Curly thinks back to their argument, to the way Pony’s eyes had darkened, hurt and anger flashing across his face, thinks of the moment he realized he might lose him, of his own desperate pleas, of ‘please, I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean it’, of ‘Pony c’mon’ of ‘I said I was sorry’. Maybe Miss D is right. Maybe he didn’t mean it, not like he should have. He said it because he regretted it yes, but he said it for himself, because he was afraid to lose Pony, not because Pony deserved to hear it.

“Here,” Miss D hands him a plate of fries, “youve got ten minutes to eat these before your next class, and you’d better not be late.”

“Thanks Miss D.” He doesn’t just mean for the food. Evidently she understands because she gives him a small, warm smile and ruffles his hair before getting back to work. 

Curly eats his fries and goes to class.

Geography is a bullshit course at the best of times, but at least it gives Curly time to think. The thing is, he’s not sure he’s ever properly apologized for anything in his life. He’s not really sure how to do it. For one thing, he’s rarely sorry for anything he does. For another, remorse in the Shepard house consists of stealing each other stuff until forgiveness is granted with a pat on the back or the ruffling of hair. They don’t really do the whole ‘talking things out’ thing. But the Curtis’ do. Ponyboy does. So Curly figures he better figure it out, and quick.

He scrawls some stuff down while the teacher drones on about continents and whatnot, but nothing sees good enough and after his fourth attempt he gives up and starts entertaining himself by pinning the braid of the soc girl in front of him to his desk with his switchblade. She squeals like a piglet and gets yanked back into her seat when she tries to stand up and Curly laughs so hard he almost forgets his knife when he beats it outta there. The girl’s preppy looking soc boyfriend tries to chase him but Curly’s gone before the guy even makes it to the door, melting easily into the crowd in the hallway. 

He skips chemistry in favour of dicking around and smoking with some of the guys he knows from the drag race scene, since Mrs. Costen still hasn’t really forgiven him for pulling the chemical shower last week. The hour passes far too quickly and suddenly he’s in the changeroom, getting ready for PE, and focusing very hard on not sneaking glances at where Pony is lounging about shirtless and chatting with one of the guys from the track team.

Curly kind of wants to throw something. It has absolutely nothing to do with the way Ponyboy’s bare shoulders look or the way he tilts his head when he laughs.

Jesus, it’s goddamn indecent. He should put a shirt on.

Curly changes quickly and leaves before he does or says something else he’ll regret. If he sneaks one more look as he goes at the way Ponyboy’s back muscles flex as he pulls a t-shirt over his head, well, thats no ones business but his own.

Mr.Harris, the gym teacher, is smart for all he is the most annoying fucking teacher Curly has ever had the misfortune of having- and that includes the bitch back in fifth grade who tried to tape his hands to the desk after he put a frog down Carmen Sanchez’ shirt during reading time.

However, Mr.Harris is also apparently going to be his saving grace today, because after he reminds them that they’re doing their wrestling unit (which is dumb, because ground fighting ends a lot easier when you can punch, kick, and aim for the balls) he very carefully goes through the class and paires up people who are unlikedly to actually take it too seriously- that is to say, socs get paired with other socs, and greasers get paired with other greasers.

“Curtis,” Mr.Harris says, “you’re with Shepard. Make sure to show him what we went over since Monday, I don’t have time to reteach those who think chronic absences are some sort of joke.”

“Actually sir-” Pony starts to protest, but Harris moves on, completely ignoring him. Which, hey, no one- especially not judgy old Mr. Harris- gets to ignore his Ponybabe, which Curly would be more than willing to tell him if he wasn’t a hundred percent sure Pony was about to ask him to switch partners. 

“Ponyboy-”

“Don’t.”

“Pony-”

The next thing Curly knows he’s flat on his back on the mat, the wind knocked out of him, and Pony is on top of him, twisting him into a pretzel and not in a fun way.

“That’s called a double leg takedown.” Pony says, breath hot on Curly’s cheek, his eyes hard as emeralds and Curly has never been so simultaneously confused and remorseful and turned on in his life.

They get to their feet. 

“Pony please-” Curly tries, and he’s back on the mat again. Shit he can’t be doing this, rough housing with Pony does things to him, always has, even if Pony’s being more rough than playful. Scratch that maybe especially then.

He should not be thinking about this right now. He’s supposed to be apologizing.

“That’s a single leg takedown.”

Pony’s breath ghosts over hi ear and he shivers.

They set up again. This time Curly is ready, if not prepared. Pony lunges in, and Curly grabs for him but not before Pony sidesteps and throws him down sideways, hastily pinning him before Curly can sit up.

“That’s a hip toss.”

“Jesus,” Curly wheezes, “I get it, you can thow me around with your fancy wrestlin’ moves. You gonna talk to me yet?”

Ponyboy responds by tackling him again.

Fine. So that’s how it’s gonna be. Pony tosses him twice more, once with what Curly is calling a lucky hit and once with some move called a fireman carry that might be the hottest thing Curly’s ever seen. The next time, Curly manages to grab Pony’s leg and hold on tight, driving into him with his shoulder until Pony trips back and they crash together onto the mat, rolling until Curly’s half sitting on top of him, holding Pony’s wrists so he can’t shove him off.

“Please will you just talk to me?”

Pony glares and then turns his head away pointedly ignoring him.

“Please,” Shepards don’t beg but Curly’s begging now, “please, just hear me out. I’m real sorry, I swear it. I owe you a proper apology, I know it. Just give me a chance.”

Green eyes meet blue, softening just a bit, and Curly thanks his unlucky stars that Ponyboy Curtis is ten times the man he will ever be.

“Fine. After class.”

Curly doesn’t care that he gets tackled for the rest of class. It feels like he’s winning anyway.

The bell rings and Curly follows Ponyboy to the changeroom, sneaks a glance at the guy’s collarbone, and prepares himself for the most important conversation of his life.

“Well?” Pony says, once they’ve both lit a cigarette, his free hand shoved deep in the pocket on his blue jeans.

“I”m sorry,” Curly starts,taking a deep drag and looking anywhere but at him, “I didn’t mean what I said but I still shouldna said it in the first place. It was shitty an’ it was meant to hurt you and I swear if you’ll give me another chance I’ll never try and hurt you again. I mean it. I can’t promise I won’t hurt you by accident but I’ll never do it on purpose.”

Pony considers him, head tilted like it does whenever he thinks really hard or laughs without thinking. He’s not laughing now though, but his eyes aren’t as murderous as earlier so Curly thinks that’s probably a good sign.

“That it?”

“No,” Curly swallows. He knows how badly this next part could go, how much Pony had cared about Johnny Cade, how bringing him up is still the surest way to get him all riled up, “I, uh, I never told you I’m sorry about what happened to Cade, but I am. He and I never got along but I know he was your best friend and I’ve been thinkin’ about it since yesterday and if I ever lost my best friend,” he gives Pony a significant look and Pony rolls his eyes, “I don’t think I could stand it. I swear i’ll never say anything like what I said again.”

“That’s right you won’t.” Pony says, and there’s a dark promise in those words, “I appreciate you sayin’ what you said just now, but you don’t get to talk about him. Never again, savvy? You hated him and he hated you. I know it, Soda knows it, hell, everyone does. So you keep his name out of your mouth, alright? I don’t want you in my memories of him, even if you’re gonna be nice about it from now on”

“I savvy.” Curly agrees. It’s true he and Cade couldn’t ever stand each other. Still, they’d both cared for Ponyboy, so Curly will keep his name out of his mouth, for Pony’s sake. ���Promise.”

Pony nods and his shoulders relax just a bit. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“So…we’re cool?”

At that Pony laughs outright, and Curly feels the weight that’s been sitting on his chest since yesterday finally lift. His Ponyboy is back. 

“Yeah,” Ponyboy’s smile is soft, “we’re cool. Now let’s get some food. I’m starvin’ and you owe me a milkshake.”

Curly grins and follows him, not caring where they’re going. As long as he’s with Ponyboy he’s exactly where he wants to be.

[strangesthirdeye]

Come With Me ( Crowley x Fem Angel! Reader x Aziraphale)

Summary; Nothing lasts forever, right?

Warning: IT’s Ineffable Hubbys, we love them.. episode 6 spoiler, heavy angst, betrayal, hurt, reader is an angel, it is episode 6 so you know what happened, I don’t know whether to make it platonic or not but it’s up to you.

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“ what’s that lovely human expression? Oh, yes! Hold that thought” Aziraphale chuckled lightly.

You and Crowley watched his unusual beaming self with confused engraved both of your

face. Aziraphale grinned widely.

“ You see, i- i have some incredibly good news to give you both.” Aziraphale said, grinning.

Crowley raised his eyebrows. “ Really?”

" what's the good news?" you cocked your head to the side slightly.

Aziraphale grinned cheerfully, impatient to tell the good news to his two partners. His mind repeatedly replayed his conversation with Metatron a moment ago. “ I umm..So, Umm..The Metatron, you know,i don’t think he’s a bad fellow…Well, he said, umm, that Gabriel obviously hadn’t worked out..” Aziraphale laughed before continued. “ as Supreme

Archangel and Commander of the Heavenly Host, and he asked who i thought should take over in Heaven now that Gabriel was gone. And i said..”

You both continued to listen to his ramblings about his conversation between Metatron. The way he told you both that the good news was related to the position in Heaven but the next

thing he said, made your expressions change as soon as he mentioned something that left Crowley in disbelief. Something the both of you need to listen to carefully and twice.

You glanced at Crowley who had wide eyes and mouth agape looking at Aziraphale,

speechless.

“ He said what?” Crowley replied, his face instantly changed.

Sensing the tense situation, you reached for Crowley's right hand hoping to calm him down.

Aziraphale grinned while pointing his thumb at Crowley. “ He said i could apppoint you to be

an angel. You could come back to Heaven and.. And everything, like the old times. Only

even nicer” Aziraphale giggled.

Crowley shuffled his feet, eyes still focusing on Aziraphale. “ Right. And you told him just where he could stick it, then?”

“not at all” Aziraphale replied, simply.

Crowley started fuming in displeasure.” Oh, we’re better than that, you’re better than that, Angel! You don’t need them. I certainly don't need them! Look, they asked me to back to Hell, i said no. I’m just not gonna be joining their team. Neither should you”

Aziraphale looked at him in disbelief. “ But.. Well, obviously you said no to Hell, your’re the bad guys. But Heaven… Well it’s the side of the Truth, of Light. Of God.” Aziraphale replied.

You clinched your jaw after hearing what Aziraphale said. This is over the limit. No, Aziraphale never said that about Crowley being a bad guy. You can only be silent and witness this tense situation. Crowley, as an Angel? What- why does Aziraphale want Crowley to become an Angel again? It's not like you don't like that, but

why now does Aziraphale want to side with Heaven after all you've been through?

Is that what he and Metatron were talking about? Make Crowley an Angel? Thinking about

this makes you uncomfortable. After everything that happened during Armageddon, Heaven

and Hell tried to destroy your lives. What's the point if we don't cooperate with them but we

side with them just because of a position offered? Is what you all do just for nothing?

Crowley, whose feelings were getting worse at the replied, glared at Aziraphale sharply.

“ When Heaven ends life here on Earth, it’ll be just as dead as if Hell ended it.” Crowley said slowly.

You turned your gaze on Crowely. Unconscious hand stroked his hand.

"Why now, Azira?" you looked at Aziraphale again.

Aziraphale turned his gaze at you. Mouth agape when asked. "but, Y/N, Heaven. If Crowley cooperates with us, full angelic and all, we don't have to worry about conflict between the two sides. We can- we can always do good" Aziraphale reasoned. “Meanwhile, Metatron also said that you can be my right-hand man just like Crowley so that the three of us don't need to be apart" he added.

"he offered me to be your right-hand man" you looked at Aziraphale with disbelief.

Azirapale nodded. "Well, if you say yes"

"Tell me you said no" Crowley interrupted. Eyes looking at Aziraphale expectantly.

You glanced at Crowley speechless. You can see how angry Crowley is right now.

Crowley let go of your hand and shuffled his feet to move forward. "Tell me you said no" he asked again.

Aziraphale looked at him shocked. "If I'm in charge.. I can make a difference."

Crowley let out a heavy sigh and turned away from Aziraphale. You looked at Crowley with concern.

“Oh.. Oh, God. Right, i didn’t get a chance to say what i was going to say,i think i’d better say it now, right okay, yes, so…” Crowley's feelings are mixed between anger, betrayal and distressed. Just listen to the tone of his voice, you already know how he feel

Crowley sighed heavily. His mind tried to process the next sentence. You pursed your lips seeing Crowley distressed over things that for him there is still hope to be saved.

Something that the three of you built to stay together.

After a few heavy sighs, Crowley finally had the courage to face Aziraphale. "We've known each other for a long time. We’ve been on this planet for along time i mean you, me and Y/n. I could always rely on you. You could always rely on me and so was Y/n. She can rely on us and so can we. We're a team. A group. Group of the three of us. And we’ve spent our existence pretending that we aren’t. I mean, the last few years, not really” Crowley turned his

gaze away from Aziraphale as well as from you who were by his side. Crowley didn't want you both to see his eyes that were glassy because of the tears that started to appear under his eyelids.

He doesn't want pity from anyone. For somebody's sake, he has never hurt this bad as long as he has existed. You intended to comfort him but seeing that he didn't want anyone to touch him, you had to witness his overload emotions with your eyes also glossy with tears.

“ I mean, if Gabriel and Beelzebub..can do it, go off together, then we can. Just the three of us. We don’t need Heaven, we don’t need Hell, they’re toxic! WE need to get away from them, just be an us. You and me, what do you say?” Crowley looked at him sadly.

Aziraphale shook his head several times with tears beginning to appear in his eyelids. He then moved himself to approach you both. "come with me..to Heaven. I'll run it, you two can be my second in command. The three of us can make it different."

Aziraphale stared at Crowley's eyes longingly before he turned his gaze to you who had been silent by Crowley's side since earlier. “ Y/n? Please tell me that you will come with me. We are both Angels, surely you want to follow me to Heaven and do good things. Please."

Aziraphale takes your hands and holds it gently while his eyes hold a pleading feeling.

You took a few steps back, letting go his hands from your hands as you shook your head a few times in disbelief.

" no..No Azira..I- I can't come you. After all we've been through now do you want to work with them again? This- this is something that- Oh, God, I can't" you started to hyperventilate with overloaded emotions.

Crowley moved towards you and hugged your body gently. He rubbed your shoulders tenderly, trying to calm you down. You put your head on his chest as you cried silently in his arms. Aziraphale looked at you feeling a little guilty and a little jealous when he witnessed the scenes that happened in front of him.

"please.. I didn't mean to upset you like this, I just want you two to come with me. We can be together" Aziraphale took a step forward but then stopped when Crowley took a step back from him with you in his arms.

"Crowley-"

"No..You can't leave this bookstore" Crowley answered with hurt.

Aziraphale huffed a big breath after he heard what Crowley said. He chuckled slightly.

"Oh, Crowley. Nothing lasts forever" and that's it. The last shot.

Crowley clenched his jaw as he looked at Aziraphale who once he called friends and partners. The look of betrayal stuck on his face while you parted away from Crowley's chest with cheeks stained with tears.

You are at a loss for words. Mind repeatedly played what Aziraphale said earlier.

"no. No, i don't suppose it does" Crowley put on his black tinted glasses, hiding his snake eyes from Aziraphale before taking your hand. "Good Luck" and he left Aziraphale standing there with eyes glassy with tears.

"Goodbye, Aziraphale" you whispered but loud enough for Aziraphale to hear it as you walked past him.

[yapper1020]

This is most definitely gonna flop but I wrote this fic about Carmy in therapy today and it's too short to post on ao3 so imma post it here. It's still a bit long and I'm aware the way Carmen talks in this is out of character but my mind would not be stopped. I had to write it like this. I apologize for any typos.

Disclaimer that I have never been to therapy but enjoy I guess lmao.

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"There's uh, there's this thing in my chest. I forget the name of it sometimes. Too busy thinking about my hands to focus on the rest of my parts. It keeps you alive. The heart. It's the center of everything. The powerhouse. Or at least, it's supposed to be."

"How do you mean?" Doctor Scott, his therapist, asks him. And fuck it all really, because is he even therapy material? Is he not too far gone? Natalie doesn't think so. That's who he's here for.

Natalie.

Sydney.

Richie.

The list can go on for days.

And he'll still be here in this room. Wondering if he's worth anything.

"That, uh, that probably sounded confusing," he chuckles, a humorless sound. "I guess I mean emotionally. My heart isn't in charge. Am I making sense?"

"Please, continue."

"Uh, o-okay." Swallows. It feels like glass shredding his throat. The dread. "It's my mind that handles shit. I've always dealt with everything like an equation even though I'm terrible at math...so no, actually. I treat everything like a dish. Clean plate or messy. Sharp corners or abstract shapes. Light or heavy. Big or small. Everything is how it's supposed to be. Even if you hate it. Even if you hate yourself for doing it." A breath. Shuddering and small. "And when a plate is fucked, you abandon it." A finger against a nose. Nail scratching against bone.

"My mother hated me - hates me because I'm something to hate. I'm easy to dislike. I was made to be her punching bag. Acceptance. That's what I did to handle that. I was never meant to be loved by my mother or father. Not in a normal way. Not in a healthy way. Not in a real way."

"Why do you feel like that? Like you were meant to be hated?"

"Because...because I hate myself. I told you, I'm easy to dislike."

"Why do you hate yourself?" He says, writing on his pad. As if he is merely a name on a paper. Is that what he's worth? An easily scribbled, merely incomprehensible note on a doctor's form. Simply and only a patient to people paid to take care of him? Because everyone else has given up?

"I am boring. Lifeless. I am lifeless because I am bloodless and because I am bloodless, I am pale. Ugly. Deformed."

"Is that what you think of your appearance? Or something you were told? By your mother, perhaps?"

"Both." He touches his nose. Squints his eyes. "Uh," a sigh. A cry for help. "I'm not fun to be around. Most times I'm paralyzed in my own mind. My family says I need to calm down. Unwind. Relax. Unclench my ass. I don't fucking know how to do that. Since I was born, everything was high intensity and fast. Very happy or very sad or so terrifyingly angry. Nothing was done small. Nothing was ever fucking calm. I was raised in chaos so therefore I must've have been for it. It must be all that I can be. All that I can create. A creature is born to is born to a certain habitat because that is the only way it can live or try too. Only in those conditions. So if the conditions are violent, the creature is by nature, by its calling, violent. It's the only way it can survive. I was bred to be loveless and unlovable, and cruel, and unkind."

I was born to not know love.

It does not know me.

And I do not know it.

"Everyone runs from an oncoming train. Unless they want to get hurt." He continues.

"Carmen, I can't help but notice that you have a very poor outlook of yourself."

"Most people do." He tries to joke but he's never been one for humor. Doctor Scott does not laugh. Suddenly, "you sound like Sydney," he says.

"What does Sydney say?"

"She tells me I'm unkind to myself."

"She's right."

"She always is." He responds, almost defensively. Shifting on the hard cushion.

"Who is Sydney?"

"My partner." He motions for Carmen to continue but he doesn't, not understanding.

"Who is Sydney to you?"

"My partner."

"No. Not in a work capacity, Carmen."

"Why-why do you ask?"

"You smiled."

"What?"

"When you mentioned her. You smiled. For the first time in the forty-five minutes we've been here."

"Well...I only know her fully in a work capacity. I barely know her outside of that."

"What do you know about her outside of that?"

"She is shy. And she's fierce. And she's awkward. And she bottles everything in. I wish she wouldn't. Her nose crinkles when she thinks. Her voice goes quiet when she asks for something. Her jokes are awful but she loves to tell them anyway. She smiles with her nose and her eyes. She's not afraid of me so I fear her power."

"You fear her?"

"I fear what she can do. She tells me when I'm wrong. When I'm being an asshole. She doesn't give me grace. Like Richie or Nat. And I don't think she should, I honestly don't want her to. She meets me toe to toe except...I am the monster and she's the queen. I'm not used to that. I'm used to fighting monsters. Do I sound like a nursery rhyme? I think I do."

The doctor's mouth does not move.

"She can leave me and not be broken. But if she leaves me...I won't ever be whole. Forever indented by the lack of her presence."

"So she means a lot to you?"

"She consumes me. But if I do the same to her, she'll be gone forever. Lost to the grayness of my being. I would never see her again except, she'd be right in front of me. And that would be infinitely worse."

"You think you are a danger to her?"

"I know I am. But I can't let her go and for some reason I can't fucking understand, she won't leave me. She is angry at me. But she won't go. She looks at me like she believes in me. She is stubborn to show me something I can't even fathom. She wants me to learn it. But I don't even think she's aware of what she's doing."

"And what's that?"

"She is trying to show me love. Or she has already shown me it. But I can't process it. So I scream and she does it back. And sometimes, I see her crying at closing and my mind factory resets so I don't have to think of how I'm the cause of it. I ignore pain. Whether from me or others because I only, always, make it worse. And the next day, I treat her with kindness or rather, I treat her with a lack of anger and hope she smiles. She rarely does."

"You always make it worse?"

"When I was five, Natalie got cut. I tried to help, ran to get a band aid. What I didn't realize is that the first aid kit had a pool of my mother's brandy in it. It was on the bandage. It burned Natalie. I made it worse. Yes, I always do." A beat of silence and Carmen rubs at his chest. "I'm tired of talking." His mouth is dry, his eyes are wet.

"Well, you have an hour left but we don't have to talk. We can just sit."

Carmen nods. He talks anyway. "Sydney is hopeful. Sydney is optimistic. I'm a pessimist. We shouldn't work. But we try anyway. And sometimes, it's like flying. Others, it's like falling straight into the abyss. We clash but I don't want to lose her. So I do what I do best."

"What's that?"

"I cook. I speak through food. Vegetables, fruits, meats. They're all letters and seasonings are periods and commas and exclamation points. That is my language. She speaks it too. That is how we were introduced even though I didn't know that we met at the time. She ate one of my dishes. And somehow, impossibly, she was inspired. She sought me out. I think she might regret it." His brow furrows. "Hey, doc. She's the only person other than family I can apologize too, why's that?"

"Maybe because you care about her."

"I care about a lot of people. She's the only one I can speak too. Say what I mean."

"Well, how do you feel about her?" There's a freckle on his nose. An imperfection Carmen finds. He was trained to find imperfections. In dishes and chefs below him and around him. To break them. To surpass them.

I'm gonna smoke this motherfucker!

But never the chefs above him. They were supposed to break him. To mold him. To make him hard and callused and cruel. Except it didn't take them that long to make him that way. Had a natural knack for it, it seems.

"How do you mean?"

"I mean, how does Sydney make you feel?"

"Uh, you know that moment after a storm? When everything goes quiet. The earth stops shaking. The sky stops screaming. But it's still wet and dreary, there's mud everywhere. You stay inside because it's warm and you're dry and you're safe."

"Sydney feels like that to you?"

"Sydney is that to me."

"You said you can't process love but I think you are. I believe you are learning."

"It doesn't matter whether I'm learning something good. Because I can't unlearn all the bad. I can't unlearn the way my mother's hands curl around a wine bottle. Or how she snarled like a beast when she looked at me. I can't unlearn the way my father left without so much as a goodbye or even a glance back. I can't unlearn how Natalie's nose flares when she cries. And I can't unlearn how Micheal breathed like two hands were choking his lungs. I can't forget that shit. I am that shit." There's a mirror in the room. Everything about him is red when he sees his reflection. "I am my mother's pleas and her accusations. I am my father's son. I have his eyes. I have his ears, I have his tendency to leave. I am my mother's anger and her wretched uncommon happiness. I am the reason for her rage and the target of her calamity. I am my brother's only hope and his dying wish. I am his disappointment and his pride. I am the thoughts that killed him. I'm the one person my sister couldn't get to stay so I am the root of her unhappiness. I am the reason she stays up at night yet still am one of the partakers of her kindness. I am my family's blood and I carry all their scars. I am the outcast. I carry all the darkness because I am strange and they can't understand me so Ma put all the problems on me because I was already misshapen so why not a bit more stretching and pulling until I no longer have a form but am just merely a fog that travels within the spaces they all long to ignore. Those crevices that ache and moan and bitch, that is where I live. In my family's sorrow. In their every fear. In the reason they give up. I am a Berzatto which means I am heartbroken and lonely and full of a fury I can't control. It is my birthright. It is burned into the mechanical nature of my matter. I am loud and intolerable. I move without feeling. I will tear you apart with my teeth like a bear and I will loathe myself for it afterward. I'll give anyone my all but all of me is not something people usually want. I am without a place and without a purpose to any other human being unless I am serving them."

"Except to your family."

"They're my family. They have to love me anyway."

"Except to Sydney?"

It stumps Carmen. His mouth shuts.

"Would you like to talk about your brother?" He nearly has whiplash.

"My brother...I loved him."

"I know."

"He was everything I wanted to be and everything I didn't."

"Can you expound on that?"

"He'd get into fights a lot. But he had passion. He stood up for himself. People liked him. I so desperately wanted to be liked or understood. Nobody got me. They'd try but not really. Sydney gets me."

"So your brother was your role model, would you say?"

"He was my inspiration."

"And when he died?"

"Everything lost its flavor."

The doctor seemingly understanding that his client speaks in the tongue of a chef more than the tongue of a human taps his pen and asks, "and when could you taste again?"

"Sydney made risotto. It needed acid. But I still thought it was perfect. But I didn't tell her that. I diminished her instead."

"Like your mother diminished you?"

His jaw clenches, his eyes water. "Yes." He admits, brokenly.

"Carmen. You're right. You can't forget the things you witnessed in your childhood and adulthood. You can't forget the way you were treated. But you can change. You can be different. You can break away from the things you learned and become new. You can be the person you want to be."

...

It's cold when Carmen makes it outside.

His lips are dry.

His fingers are numb.

His mind feels loopy.

So when he sees Sydney leaned up against her car, he thinks he might be hallucinating.

He walks toward his hallucination with purpose. She smiles at him and he frowns.

"Sydney?"

"Hey!" She rubs her hands together, bracing against the wind. "How'd it go?"

"It uh," he looks back at the office and squints. "It went." He shrugs, not knowing what to say. It was heavy and it was long. And he's tired. She understands that immediately.

"Yeah, these things can be rough."

"Why are you here?" He asks but not unkindly.

"To drive you home."

"You didn't have to do that."

"Dude, it's like ten fucking degrees, I didn't want you to freeze."

"I wouldn't freeze." He says back, confused.

She sucks her teeth and rolls her eyes. "I wanted to be with you after that shit. Okay? Happy?"

He stares at her. She is the sun, he is the moon. Always on one side of the sky but rarely together. He thinks they should become an everlasting eclipse.

She hugs him. Her arms squeeze him so hard that he feels again.

He sighs.

His nose burns from the chill.

He is home.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

I saw your hc post with Nathan with a feminine s/o and the part where he liked listening to her talk and that got me thinking about this. He would love it if his s/o played piano. Like, he puts a piano in places like the living room and his office just so when he's there he can listen to them play. Sh maybe you could make a small hc post based on that idea

Ahh, I love this! Sorry it took me so long to post!

Nathan Bateman GN!Reader • Rating: T•Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• ko-fi •

Warnings: Soft!Nathan , swearing, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 455

Oh my gosh, literally pianos everywhere. You have to tell him to calm the fuck down. 

“Do you want a new piano?” “No, you bought me five already.” “Do you need one in a different colour?” “No.” “What about another grand piano for the-” “Nathan.” 

Doesn’t pester you to play for him, but is very happy whenever you play. Even if you’re trying out a new piece and feel like you're constantly messing up, he’s just 100% heart eyes at all times.

Will, however, act like he isn’t if you call him on it. 

If you’re playing and it isn’t within his earshot you’re gonna get a series of, ‘why aren’t you playing near me so I can listen?’ type messages.

You end up just practising near him so he doesn’t complain. 

You call him a baby (affectionate) about it. 

He says he isn’t and sulks for 3 hours. 

When you find him you show him a little song you’ve written for him. 

He gets a little over emotional that you made something for him. And tries to hide it. (He does a bad job.)

Asks you to teach him how to play.

He understands the theory really well, but gets annoyed when he can’t play perfectly after 30 seconds. 

“You’re really good Nathan!”

“I’m shit.”

“You can’t expect to play it perfectly the first time.”

“Why?”

You roll your eyes. “Because you have to learn the muscle memory, you couldn’t box amazingly the first time you tried could you?” 

“I could.” 

“Fuck off.” 

You give him little lessons every day, which he adores. He progresses well, he’s obviously trying really hard, but after a couple of weeks, you realise he’s doing it more to spend time with you and to share in something you enjoy than to become a master at it. (Which surprises you.) 

He likes calling you ‘bossy’ when you tell him to practise or play something. This morphs a little and sticks into a nickname, ‘boss’. 

Whenever he’s on a conference call and someone asks him to do something he doesn’t want to, instead of saying a flat ‘no.’ he just starts shrugging and saying ‘you better ask the boss.’ 

He does not explain this to anyone, causing a lot of confusion (which he loves). 

No one has any idea that you’re ‘the boss’ until a rare in-person event when Nathan isn’t being his hermit self and he refers to you by the nickname in front of a couple of staff. 

What you expect to be the end of the joke turns into people asking and emailing you for permission and sign offs. (And to get Nathan to do things.) 

Nathan finds this all hilarious and will not correct the situation.

Thank you for reading!

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[sweetieviktor]

"take me back to the night we met", feat. viktor.

summary: you knew he was dieing, but seeing him using shimmer was too much to bare . based on the song "the night we met", by lord huron.

word count: 720.

content warning: season 1, act 3 spoilers! idk if shimmer use count as a cw, but anyways this is angst and it doesn't have a happy ending!

author notes: there's so much time since i've written fanfiction!! but i loved doind this one and i swear that i cried while writing this. and this may be very ooc and doesn't match the scenes in season 1, act 3, but i dont have time to watch it again now and i was so hyped up bcs of season 2 that i just had to write something, yk? also, there may be some typos or grammar errors even though i re-read this like 3 times i think lol. but yeah, here it is!

you came back to his lab expecting to see him doing good, maybe working on his research, too focused on any stuff he was doing at the moment and not noticing you by the door, but he wasn't in there, or so it looked like.

he was hunched over his desk, in his hands was a glass tube, the remaining of the purple liquid shimmering in the dark room, illuminating just enough to draw his weak silhouette amongst the shadows.

“viktor…?” was everything you said while getting closer to him, walking with slow steps, trying to make no sounds to alarm him.

“stop.” raising a hand, that was all he said.

just as you were told, you stopped on your tracks, observing that, his once perfect hand, was now painted in a shade of purple, the same that was inside the glass recipient.

it can't be. right?

“what you did to yourself?”

“i did what needed to be done.” he was so baretoned, you didn't understand why he seemed so rude, so crude, so… unlike him.

when his words settled in, it felt like your stomach was turning, wrapping itself around your guts, making you sick. you felt sick, for him.

“please, please, viktor, don't tell me that you're using sh-” “yes.”

of course you knew about his condition, of course you knew he wasn't doing good at all, and mostly, you knew that things were meant to end, one way or another. but you didn't think he would kill himself like this.

and this was all you needed to break.

“why you didn't told me? i could have helped you, we could find a way to work through it,” the tears started to prick on your eyes, your voice breaking, the anger at yourself pooling into your core. “you wouldn't need to use shimmer, vik...”

the feeling that the universe stole and took all that once mattered to you was what drove you insane. the feeling that you could make things different, make things better, the oh so simple solution that you could find, if only he had told you.

“it’s not that easy! you wouldn't understand if i told you sooner. no one would understand it, even if they tried really hard to.” he turned his head towards your direction, looking at your face for a brief second, before turning his gaze back to the ground, his purple irises trying to focus on something that wasn't your saddened face, now, feeling his own eyes burning, burning even more than the blood running in his veins. “we are in piltover, the city of progress, and yet, i am stuck behind, and i'm dieing. so, i needed to do something, and i did.”

“what you don’t understand is that you're destroying yourself, viktor. destroying yourself so slowly that it almost feels like torture. i fear that i wouldn't be able to see you for another day.” you sobbed, the tears rolling down and he didn't dare to look at your eyes again, he knew that you were crying. he knew it and he couldn't bear the thought that he was the one that made you cry. “if there is a god somewhere, i wish they could turn back time and take me back to the night we met. maybe things could be different, right?”

looking at him, a weak, nervous smile was all you could get out while crying, thinking to yourself when things started to get this wrong and how you let it happen, without even realizing what was wrong. how could you let him do this to himself?

your body was shaking, it felt like the whole world was trembling. the nonstoping thoughts hammering your head, your heart a mile per minute, the air in your lungs wasn't enough. everything, everything seemed like it was crushing down on you, right in this moment.

“i'm sorry. i'm so sorry... i need to go. now.”

you needed to get out of here, you needed to breathe.

you headed back to the door, wishing that some cold breeze would cool you down, would just stop your mind and racing heart. wishing for him to be fine again. praying for any and all gods that lived in the skies and beyond, praying for him to be alive. just for a bit more.