#my back is killing me but i absolutely had to write it so forgive me if there's an insane number of references to hearts

[likeumeanit9497]

| after hours c.s. |

chris sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: chris practically begs his best friend to massage his back, but after an awkward discovery, y/n finds it difficult to keep her hands -- and her eyes -- on the job.

warnings: smut; established friendship; oral (m/f receiving); fingering; hand job; squirting; unprotected p in v; dirty talk(!!!!); 18+

notes: whew! long time no see! life has been putting me through the absolute ringer lately! i haven't felt like a real person in months! i still don't tbh! im working on it! but i have absolutely missed writing and tumblr and u all so much! pls forgive my absence on here i literally haven't even been able to open this app since october when my life went south. my semester is over now so i have one major thing off my plate, so im hoping i can be a bit more consistent with writing. I MISSED U ALL SO SO SO SO MUCH and i hope u enjoy this chrissy one shot that i started months ago and just finally finished it today. love u all <33333

“No Chris.” I chuckled, standing up from my couch and walking to my kitchen to put away our leftover dinner. “Please,” I heard him whine behind me, “My back is killing me Y/n.” I turned around, facing my best friend still sitting on the couch where I left him. I laughed at his fake expression of misery, and the hand pressed to his lower back was a nice touch. “Chris, you know I’ve made it a rule not to massage my friends in my free time.” I explained, putting my hands on my hips. He groaned dramatically. “But why? You have all your stuff in the next room!” He began standing up from the couch, being sure to make it seem like a painful struggle.

He was right. I was a licensed massage therapist, and had recently started my own practice from the comfort of my home. I had turned my den into a massage room, fully equipped with a massage table, calming music, and essential oils. But I had made it clear to all of my friends — especially Chris — that I wasn’t going to massage them after-hours. Of course, I would treat them free of charge, but they had to book during normal hours. I was brand new in this career, and I wanted to ensure professionalism right from the start.

“You already know why.” I replied, turning away from him and opening up the fridge to put away my leftovers. As I leaned down into the fridge, I gasped as I suddenly felt a hand press against my lower back. “Just right here.” Chris whispered behind me, circling his thumb along my lower back. “It’ll only take five minutes.” I shuddered at the sound of his voice and the feeling of his touch. Chris had a habit of turning on his sex appeal when he needed something from me, and even though him and I were only friends, it unfortunately worked.

I turned around and closed the fridge, coming face to face with my friend. His eyebrows were knit together in what I could only assume was faux pain, because there was a playful smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair before pointing at the closed french doors leading to my massage room. “Go in there, take off your shirt and lay on the bed. Call me in when you’re under the sheet.”

A smile consumed his entire face, and before I could change my mind he walked over to the room and shut the door behind him.

Chris’s POV:

As I shut the door of the massage room behind me, I stood for a moment to take in the room. She had never let me in the room before, in fact she made it known that she considered it separate from her home and so she didn’t like going into it when she wasn’t working. I always joked around with her because of that, asking her if it was really a secret torture room, but as I saw it for the first time, I couldn’t help but smile. It was professional, but still had personal touches that made it clear that it was hers.

The lights were dim, enough to see clearly but dark enough that everything had a blurry haze to it. It smelled like that shit she diffuses in her bedroom — I think she told me once that it was lavender or something. I noticed the various candles dotted around the room, and took it upon myself to light a few of them. As I lit the last candle on the small table beside the bed, I noticed an old phone connected to a small speaker. Finding that the phone didn’t have a password, I opened it and hit play on the playlist that showed up first, smiling at the title: music that makes strangers fall into my bed.

I chuckled to myself. Not so professional, sweetheart.

Typical spa music filled the small space, and I couldn’t lie, it did add to the meditative atmosphere of the room. Looking at the massage table in the middle of the room, I remembered what I was actually in there for and felt a wave of excitement hit me. I hadn’t been lying when I told her that my back had been hurting — not exactly, at least — but I had definitely been exaggerating. The truth was, I just really wanted to see what her hands could do. Not wanting to waste any more time, I took of my clothes and climbed onto the table, slipping my lower half under the thin white sheet.

“Y/n!” I shouted, “I’m all set!”

Y/n’s POV:

From my place at the kitchen counter, I heard Chris’s voice and my stomach did a flip. I wasn’t sure why I was so nervous, I had given a few of my other friends massages before, but for some reason I had been dreading the idea of giving one to Chris. Maybe it was because him and I had such a playful relationship, and I was so used to being professional with my clients, I couldn’t quite envision how combining my two personalities would go. Still, I took a deep breath and headed for the room.

Once I opened the door, I noticed the candles were lit and soft music was already playing. Looking at Chris, laying face down on the table, I chuckled. “I see you made yourself comfortable.” I remarked. Heading towards him, I noticed the pile of his clothes on the floor, including his sweats and boxers. “Uh Chris,” I began, stopping at the top of his head, “I said you only had to take off your shirt, remember?” He lifted his head from the table, looking up at me briefly. “I know. It’s just that the pain goes pretty low down my back and I figured it would be easier to just take everything off.” There was a playful look in his eyes. “It’s what I’ve seen them do in the movies.” He added softly, making me chuckle.

“It does make it easier,” I replied, moving so that I was now standing on his right side. “It’s really just about what you’re comfortable with.” As I spoke, I began running my hands down his back, from his shoulders down to his tail bone, to check for any tightness. He remained silent underneath me as I applied pressure on certain areas. “So, you said right here is sore?” I asked, pressing down on the same spot that he had when demonstrating on me. I heard a muffled hiss and watched as he nodded his head. “And the pain kind of shoots down to here.” He added, awkwardly moving his arm behind him and trailing it from where my thumb was down to just below the white sheet.

I hummed in acknowledgment, pumping the bottle of massage oil beside me and rubbing it in my hands. “Okay, I’ll get started. Let me know if the pressure is too much.” I said the same thing that I said to all of my clients robotically, before working against his muscle. It was pretty tight, but definitely not as bad as he was making it seem before on the couch. Like I do with my other clients, I stayed silent to encourage him to relax against my pressure. A few groans of pain fell from his lips as I worked, but he encouraged me to keep going each time I asked if he was okay.

I noticed him shuffle a few times under the sheet. “Are you uncomfortable?” I asked him softly, wondering if maybe the massage table was too hard. “N-no, I’m fine.” Was his reply, and even though there was a slightly panicked edge to his voice, I took his word for it and continued working my hands lower down on his back. I felt my cheeks grow hot as my hands pulled the white sheet lower to gain access to his pain. I had never seen this much of Chris’s body before, and even though I was trying to be professional, I felt like the act was a little too intimate.

I rushed to finish up, and after about fifteen minutes I was satisfied that the knot in his back had improved. “Alright, I think I’m done. Want to flip onto your back for me?” I asked, pulling the sheet up slightly. “W-why?” Chris asked, his tone filled with alarm. “I usually finish every session with a neck massage. Sometimes the neck gets stiff from the way it lays when you’re on your stomach.” I replied. “Oh, uh, it’s okay.” He replied, refusing to move. I rolled my eyes. “What? Not even 30 minutes ago you were begging me for a massage, and now you’re turning it down?” I crossed my arms and moved over to his head, “Come on, turn over. It won’t take long.” I reassured him.

He sighed, and, holding onto the edge of the sheet, slowly turned over. I stifled a gasp, because between his legs, the thin white sheet had tented, and I could clearly see the outline of his erection. I was thrown off, unable to take my eyes away from it, but quickly recovered — clearing my throat and dropping my eyes to his face. His eyes were still closed and his cheeks were flushed; I could tell he was embarrassed. In a normal circumstance, I would think that I would have made a joke about it, and he would have just told me to shut up. But at that moment, there was something so real about his exposure and humiliation, and so I knew that I would just ignore it.

I began massaging his neck, trying to focus on my actions and regain my professionalism. But, I couldn’t stop looking at the white sheet; it being the only thing between his cock and my eyes. I could tell that it was huge, and I watched as it grew harder and harder as I continued working his neck. It went from standing straight up and wobbling in the air as Chris breathed, to being pressed right against his front. The sheet draped around it, perfectly outlining its girth, and I could see a small bead of dampness taint the sheet a translucent shade of white at its tip. My mouth watered and my mind wandered. I felt my own body begin to react to the sight in front of me, and the tension in the room began to grow so heavy that I began to gasp for air.

“I-is the pressure okay?” I asked, doing my very best to keep my voice strong as I worked his neck. I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed nervously before nodding his head. “It’s good, Y/n.” His reply was so simple, but there was something about the gruff undertone, the almost indiscriminate breathlessness as he said my name, that caused my knees to weaken and my throat to turn into a desert. Suddenly, I could no longer hear the soft music playing throughout the room as my blood pumped deafeningly in my ears. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from his bulge for more than a few seconds at a time — it seemed so hard that it had to be painful. My eyes continued to flutter between his flushed face and pulsing member until suddenly, when my eyes returned to his face, his bright blue eyes were wide open and staring right at me.

I felt a new wave of heat crawl up my face at the fact that I had just been caught red-handed staring at the one thing in this room that both of us had been actively ignoring. I opened my mouth to attempt to explain myself, but his words beat me to it. “I’m sorry.” He murmured sheepishly, his face turning the same shade of red that I imagined mine to be as he squeezed his eyes shut. Immediately, I began shaking my head rapidly. Partially as a reassurance to him and partially as an attempt at erasing the last two minutes of my life. “No! Don’t be sorry. It happens all the time.” I rushed out, doing my best to make light of the situation. “No it doesn’t.” He replied flatly, with a hint of disbelief in his voice. I forced a chuckle. “Okay fine, it doesn’t happen all the time. But its not not normal.” I tried again, brushing a soft curl out of his face.

Chris was silent for a moment, his eyes still squeezed shut in either embarrassment or concentration. I had stopped massaging his neck, but my hands were still on his damp skin; my thumbs drawing gentle circles against his rapid pulse. After a moment, an exasperated sigh fell from his lips. “It won’t go away.” He said, his voice laced with genuine disgust. “I’m sorry Y/n, this is creepy.” A forced laugh, then another sigh.

The room fell silent again as I tried to find the right words to fill the space. Words that would reassure him more genuinely than more “it’s okay’s”. Because, from the way my pulse had quickened, and from the way my core had grown so slick from arousal that I could feel it dripping steadily onto my panties, it really was okay. It was more than okay. So, instead of trying to find the words that could possibly portray just how okay it was, I leaned down and pressed my lips to his.

I felt him tense at the first brush of my lips against his, clearly shocked by the sudden close proximity of our mouths; closer than they had ever been before. So, I pulled away for a moment, finding his piercing eyes to search them for whatever thought is running in his mind. They were wild, racing across my face trying to make sense of what just happened. But there was something else there, something erotic that was blurring the line between right and wrong. Between professionalism and spontaneity. Between friends that fuck around and friends that fuck. I could tell that we were both balancing on that same fine line, but when I brought my lips back down to his, and when he opened his mouth to welcome mine with the kind of hunger than can never be satiated, I knew that we both came to the same conclusion.

Our lips moulded together in rhythmic wonder as our tongues explored each other. Immediately, I felt his body relax as his hands reached up and wrapped themselves in my hair. A soft moan of satisfaction fell from his lips as I nibbled on his bottom lip, causing my body to react in a way that was foreign to me. I felt goosebumps raise up across my skin as if his hands were all over it. He pulled his lips from mine and used his grip on my hair to tilt my head to the side, giving his swollen lips access to my neck. He sucked and nibbled against my electric skin just below my ear, and I felt as though I could fall apart and dissolve into a puddle just from that. “L-let me make you feel better.” I managed to moan out through the waves of pleasure I was feeling. My eyes wouldn’t leave the rock hard bulge under the white sheet, just barely out of my reach. Chris groaned against my neck at my words, and I watched as his cock twitched under the sheet as if it heard my words itself and was begging me to help it.

After another moment of Chris devouring my neck, tasting every inch of it as if he couldn’t get enough, his grip on my hair loosened and he allowed me to straighten up. I looked down at his face, now even more flushed than before. His lips had gone bright pink and were so beautifully swollen from their journey against my skin. His chest was rising and falling rapidly and, after a short moment, his eyes fluttered open and landed on me. “You sure you want to do this?” He asked, his voice slightly tentative, and I knew what he meant.

A kiss between friends is one thing. It can be brushed off as a slight moment of weakness, can be something that the two friends can one day laugh about as they look back on their friendship. It can be never spoken of again, can be hidden from their other friends deep in the vault of the minds of the two people that shared it. But anything more than that, any other touching, or licking, or exploring of the other person is not as easily ignorable. In friendships there is deep love and strong understanding of the other person. Once that love and understanding collides with the act of literally merging together, of being as physically close to another that you can be in this lifetime, it’s not so easy to ignore. My mind may not be able to shut out the events that transpire with Chris tonight ever again. We may never be able to chalk it all up to a moment of weakness, or keep it a secret from our mutual friends. We may never have the same friendship we had before I agreed to this massage. But there is no way to know that for sure. What I did know for sure in that moment, with Chris staring up at me with eyes filled with intoxicating desire, with my own body vibrating with lust, was that I wanted this.

So without a word, I walked down his body towards his beckoning cock. I took a moment to just gaze at it, closer to it now than I had been all night. I rested a hand on his thigh hidden beneath the sheet, and watched as his cock once again twitched. I chewed on my bottom lip in an attempt to keep myself from moaning just from the sight, and after a moment let my eyes flutter back up to his face. “I’m sure Chris.” I replied softly, searching his expression. “Are you?” I asked, realizing that he was likely considering the same potential outcome that I had been. He kept my gaze for a brief moment, his eyes focusing on different parts of my face. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” He replied finally, a cheeky smile growing on his face. I felt my own expression mirror his own, and without wasting another second I began peeling the thin sheet down his waist.

My smile fell the moment his bare cock was finally exposed, and was replaced by what I knew was the expression of desperate hunger. His length was impressively long, and I felt my mouth water at the thought of running my tongue along its veins up to its swollen head. Reaching to my left, I pumped some massage oil into my hand. I brought my cupped hand above his upright cock and let the oil drip between my fingers and coat him. He released a sharp hiss at the feeling of the oil as it trailed down his length towards his base, and I watched as his hips thrust forward desperately from the barely-there contact. A bead of pre-cum suddenly dripped from his slit, and I used my thumb to collect it before finally pumping my hand up and down his shaft. Immediately, a deep moan fell from Chris’s lips as I worked his oiled cock in my hand. I focused on his body language as I adjusted my movements to figure out exactly what he needed to feel good.

When I went slow, I watched his breath grow steady, telling me that I should pick up the pace. When I used a softer touch as I moved along his cock his hands would stay relaxed at his side, but I knew he liked it when I used a bit more pressure along his tip as his hands would tighten into fists against the sheet. But when I used both hands, twisting in opposite directions with the occasional brush against his balls with my pinky, I discovered that was what he liked most of all. A deep grunt followed by a moan fell from his lips, and his right hand flew to my upper thigh; where he gripped so hard I was sure that he would leave a bruise. “Fuck, Y/n.” He breathed out as I continued with these movements.

His hand traveled further and further up my leg until his fingers slipped under my loose-fitting shorts. I continued to stroke him with both hands, even when I felt the tip of his fingers just milimetres from my trembling core. They brushed against the ever-so-soft place between my pelvis and my pussy, and I bit back a moan. Subconsciously, I adjusted myself so that my legs were wider apart; giving him access to touch even more of me. My hands continued to work his cock as his fingers inched closer and closer, before finally, I felt the very tip of just one of his fingers reach my core and dip into its warmth. My knees buckled at the barely-there contact just as he released a muffled moan. “Jesus fuck, Y/n,” My eyes flew to his face and the translucent arousal that I found all across it was almost enough to push me over the edge. “Put that on my face right fucking now.”

His demand was so jarring, his voice so gritty and raw, that I didn’t hesitate before peeling my shorts down my legs, lifting myself onto the massage chair, and straddling his face. Immediately, his hands gripped onto my thighs and pulled them apart; giving his eyes untethered access to my glistening core. “You’re fucking soaked.” His words came out in an almost-whisper, as if he hadn’t actively planned on speaking them aloud. Still, they shot straight to my lust and I leaned forward, resting my head against his chest to allow him to see even more of me.

I gasped as I felt his thumb against my slit, collecting my arousal. I heard a wet sound and then another deep moan. “So good.” He whispered before suddenly his warm mouth was suctioned to my clit. Immediately, I dissolved into a puddle of desire as his tongue swirled and licked against my sensitive bundle of nerves. Moans fell from my lips as my brain turned to mush from the relief of finally having his mouth on me. I began moving my hips against his face, chasing a high that I so desperately needed. Satisfied moans slipped from his mouth into me, and I felt a sharp slap against my ass cheek that added to my intense need.

I had turned into nothing more than a dead weight on top of him, his lethal tongue paralyzing me. But as I opened my mouth to release a guttural moan, I felt my lip brush against the tip of his cock. Without a second thought, I slipped his cock into my mouth and began pumping up and down. Another moan fell from Chris, vibrating against my clit and causing me to moan around his girth. “Fuck.” Chris muttered against me, and I responded by deep throating his cock until my nose pressed against his bare thigh. “Mmmm, Y/n.” Chris breathed, removing his mouth from my clit. I stopped my movements as well, waiting on shaky legs for him to continue.

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna cum.” He began, gently running his knuckles against my ass cheek. “And I don’t want to do that yet.” He slipped two fingers into my core effortlessly, causing me to immediately begin rocking against them. “Mmm. Thatta girl.” He breathed, presumably watching for a moment as I rode his fingers just inches above his face. “What I want you to do is focus on making a mess all over my face, then after that I want to cum with these tight walls wrapped around me.” His words caused my eyes to roll to the back of my head, and a sharp moan fell from my lips. “Sound good?” He asked, his voice muffled as he reattached his mouth to my throbbing clit. I nodded my head maniacally as he resumed his impressive movements against my nerves. He kept his fingers inside of me, and as I slid my soaked cunt against his face, I cried out at the added sensation of his fingers filling me.

“Fuck C-Chris.” I moaned, my words nearly incomprehensible as I grew closer and closer to my climax. He could tell that I was quickly approaching, and tightened his grip on my ass cheek with his free hand; pressing my cunt so hard against his face I was afraid that he would suffocate. “G-gonna cum!” I warned him just before the tumultuous waves of my orgasm took over. My body began shaking as I came hard against his face. I had never before felt so out of control of my own body, and relished in the feeling as my back arched and a plethora of moans fell from my mouth. I felt a gush as I squirted against Chris’s mouth, and trembled at the guttural moan he released as he began lapping me up.

Once my mind reattached to my body and my orgasm had finishing ripping through me, I rested my head against his stomach as he ran his hands along my tense back and dropped gentle kisses against my sensitive core. He let me lie there on top of him for a few moments, catching my breath and slowing my heart rate, before gently lifting my limp body off of him and sliding off of the massage table. I sat up on the edge of the table, facing his standing figure before me, and my gaze landed on his excruciatingly hard cock. He grabbed my chin and lifted my head up before pressing his wet lips harshly against mine. He tasted like me, and immediately a new wave of arousal filled my core.

As his tongue flicked into my mouth, I reached between our bodies and began stroking his cock. He thrusted into my hand instinctively, and a moan fell from his lips as his hand shot to my core where he drew torturously slow circles against my over-stimulated clit. Caught up in how good we were making the other feel, our kissing slowed and our mouths eventually turned into matching O’s; eyes shut in pure bliss. I dropped my forehead against his bare chest, and watched as our hands worked on the other’s body, slowly working up the nerve to do the one thing we hadn’t yet done with each other.

“You still want to do this?” Chris asked, his voice strained. I jolted slightly at his words, shocked at the fact that he seemed to be reading my mind. A sharp wave of pleasure hit me from his fingers and I moaned softly before looking back up at him. “Mhmm.” I breathed, meaning it. “Do you?” I asked in return as I felt his cock jump in my hand. “So much.” He replied before lowering his head and planting another deep, wet kiss against my mouth. After a moment, he grabbed the hem of my t-shirt and pulled it over my head. He took a moment to admire my bare chest before kissing each of my painfully pebbled nipples. “God, you’re unreal Y/n.” He moaned, running firm hands against my completely naked frame. I arched my back against his touch and shut my eyes blissfully.

He leaned forward and ran his tongue along my collar bone. “You ready?” He asked. I felt his hand replace mine on his shaft, and bit my lip as I felt him line the head up with my soaked core. He used his free hand to hold firmly onto my lower back, and I wrapped my legs around his waist; using the grip to press him against me. “I’m ready.” I replied breathlessly, looking up at him through my eyelashes. Without wasting a second, Chris kept his glazed eyes on mine as he slowly pressed his hips into me. My jaw dropped as his girth stretched my walls out further than I thought possible, and the intoxicating mix of pleasure and pain that can not truly be described with words turned my brain into mush.

Chris hissed as he bottomed out in me, his cock taking up every inch of my cunt. He remained still as he rested his forehead against mine, his breath erratic and hitched. “Fuck.” He finally groaned out, his body more tense than I’d ever seen it. “You okay?” I asked, wrapping my arms around his neck. He nodded. “I’m gonna cum in, like, record speed here Y/n.” He replied, taking deep breaths and keeping his forehead pressed to mine. I couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s okay Chris,” I replied, running my hands through his hair. “Just give me what you’ve got.”

My last seductive whisper seemed to give him the motivation to power through, because immediately he snapped his hips into me. I released a sharp moan from the depth of his movements, and that was enough to bring him fully back into it. Using the grip he had on my lower back, he plowed into me relentlessly. My eyes were rolled into the back of my head as I felt my walls stretch with each thrust; allowing him to hit my g-spot each time. “Jesus!” I cried out, gripping onto his shoulders in a weak attempt at holding onto my sanity.

“You’re so f-fucking tight.” Chris groaned into my shoulder as he continued to drive his ruthless cock into me. The room filled with the sounds of our bodies smacking against each other, adding to the indescribable arousal I was filled with. Chris’s hands began travelling all across my body, taking his time on my tits as his thumbs drew circles around my hardened nipples. He gave my tits a harsh squeeze before travelling down my stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps on my skin as he reached my clit and began rubbing it in rhythm with his thrusts. “God, keep going baby.” I moaned, wrapping my legs even tighter around Chris’s waist, “F-feels s-so good!” I cried just as Chris lifted me up off the table and slammed me into the wall. I released a sharp gasp from the shock, but as he continued pounding into me, my pleasure was intensified.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Chris growled as he nibbled against the skin on my neck. “You always this fucking wet?” His dirty words make my head spin. “N-no. I’m n-not.” I reply honestly, feeling my juices spread all over his front. A wicked smile covers his face. “Just for me then, huh?” His tone was arrogant, but there was an undertone of overwhelming arousal in it that told me he needed it to be true. I nodded my head rapidly. “Y-yes Chris! O-only this wet f-for y-you.” I managed to reply just before my second orgasm swept in and overtook me.

Just as I began riding my high — my nails digging into his skin and my mouth sputtering out profanities — Chris stilled inside of me and released a ragged “Oh fuck!”. I felt his cock pulse inside of me, painting my walls with his warm seed as my orgasm milked him dry. He released soft grunts against my neck as he rode through his own high, and I relished in the feeling of his cum as it dripped from my cunt.

After a while, both of our bodies relaxed and we rested against one another as we caught our breath. I waited for the overwhelming feeling of regret to wash over me, as one would expect it to after fucking your best friend, but it never came. In fact, I was so relaxed in that post-sex liminal space, pressed against the wall with Chris’s softening cock resting in my core, that I almost couldn’t believe that we had never done that before.

I was pulled from that thought by Chris placing a deeply passionate kiss to my lips. There was no lust, no untethered desire attached to it; it was almost as though this kiss was the end of one chapter of our lives and the beginning of a new, more exciting one. Our lips moved in slow motion, as if we had kissed like this a thousand times. With his lips still on mine, Chris slowly helped me down so my feet were on the ground. After another moment of our mouths merged as one, I pulled away and was immediately wrapped in a hug. Chris’s warm body felt so familiar, even more familiar than before, and I closed my eyes and took in the moment, as I knew it was the start of something new.

“Well, I think we have some things we should figure out,” Chris said, and I felt a soft chuckle against my head tucked into his chest. “Because I don’t know about you, but there is no way I can go the rest of my life without doing that again.” It was my turn to laugh, and I pulled myself out of his arms and looked up at his face. “I think I am officially under your spell.” I replied, feigning a smile. “Let’s go sit down and figure this all out.” I grabbed my discarded shirt and threw it over my head before walking towards my living room. “Oh by the way Y/n,” Chris grabbed me by my waist from behind as we walked through the door, “My back feels great now, in case you were curious.” I rolled my eyes with a smile and continued walking. “You have magical hands.” He whispered, and all I could do was laugh and give him a half-hearted shove.

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

[writingmeraki]

hurt hearts — k.mg drabble.

❝ in which you learn mingyu has a big heart ( and chest—) and he's terribly hurt while you might just beat the shit out of him.

( or mingyu's heart was already yours before you even knew it )

pairing : secret!agent mingyu x secret!agent reader, acquaintances stage. genre : fluff, angsty. warnings : mentions of injuries, treating wounds ( inaccurate forgive me🙏) mingyu ( he's a warning ).

a/n : the double update as promised hehe also the pic is not even related to the drabble but I just had to use it yk?? thank you to @etherealyoungk for feeding my delusions. also this got angsty quite quick 😭 ???( might do a summer fic with this mingyu hehehe ) pls I was also like naurr why is it so sad suddenly but eh it's fine. take this as some sort of teaser for the full secret agent mingyu fic I guess! and yes I will never get fed up of writing these two <3 let me know what you think of this mwah 💌

word count : 2.7k

“Are you fucking stupid?!?”

Silence enveloped the room as you asked in a voice laced with agitation.

It was all whispers of panic and chaos while you took in the scene in front of you, quiet and in your thoughts, but the more you thought of it, the more you got enraged.

“Do you even realise what could have happened?"

It seemed as though the wound on his chest was glaring at you as you spoke, unable to look away from it as it continued to bleed. You winced, frowning more as you shook your head.

Mingyu, on the other hand, like the true annoyance he was, blinked in surprise as he heard you cuss. It was rare you did, it was rare you talked actually, choosing to only answer in small replies.

Or maybe you just hated him because he swears he’s seen you not only talk but also laugh and giggle with Vernon and Chan, even Seungcheol!

He didn’t want to admit it before but now he can, he absolutely disliked the fact that you were more nonchalant to him than any other person. Was he the problem?

No, no negative thoughts right now. Perhaps you were just shy around him.

Right because a shy person would definitely be glaring at him with all the rage enough to just burn him with a gaze.

Who was he trying to convince? You hated him and for all he knew, he was just a nuisance in your life.

“Where’s Wonwoo?! Is Dr.Jeon not there?” You sat him down on the lounge chair in the agency building. It was supposed to mimic how an actual office building would be, hence they even did the extra and added the typical reception desk and waiting area at the ground floor.

Wonwoo? Since when were you on a first name basis with Wonwoo?

He frowned at that, he didn't want to admit it but it annoyed him just a little. Though. He did have other bigger problems right now.

Like the gash on his upper chest that was bleeding. But it seemed the adrenaline had dimmed down the pain. It felt more numb if anything.

“He-he left. I mean his shift is over there's no one—”

“How the fuck is there no other doctor on duty?! In a fucking place like this you'd expect at least one how—”

You pinched your nose and took a deep breath. You were on the verge of possibly killing someone.

Mingyu was bleeding and you needed to think.

“Seungkwan. Get me the first aid kit. Chan, go get some water. And you-”

You looked back at Mingyu in question,

“Can you walk?”

Instead of answering, he nodded curtly, not really wanting to provoke you than he already had. He knew when and where to speak up when he should. At least sometimes he did.

“Great, let's go to my room.”

[ A few moments later ]

Your office space was very…you. It was like a reflection of what he thinks you are.

Your artefacts, some polaroids with people in few and more so sceneries. It resembled a lot of you but also not enough to satisfy his curiosity. He wanted to know more.

He sat down on the sofa, a light pink coloured one, one that stood out in the monochrome room. But it was nice. It was pretty.

He also thinks you look pretty, even though you were tense, eyebrows scrunched as you cut the bandage tape precisely.

You look pretty all the time though.

“I'll need you to remove your shirt.”

Mingyu would love to hear so much from you, and wanted to hear you say so many things for him. This was one of them for sure, but definitely not in the circumstances he wishes.

“I-what? ” He chokes up, immediately sitting up from his leaned back position, one you forced him into when he came there.

You put down the bandage after you finished, looking at him with an eyebrow raised, now crossing your arms.

“How else do you want me to treat your wound?”

“You're-you’ll be treating it?”

“Does it look like there's anyone else right now who can? If you're scared, just trust me, I uh- I have experience from treating my own and others as well.”

You said it firmly because you realised the unsurety in his voice might be right. He didn't know that you knew basic first aid and actually more, it was a requirement for most agents but perhaps it was different here.

Mingyu did trust you. That wasn't what he doubted. He doubted himself, whether he'd be able to handle you touching him in any way. He's terrified he might pass out.

“Okay, now I'll need you to actually remove your shirt, I'll help if you-”

“NO!-uh no I'll do it myself.”

He immediately raised his hands and began unbuttoning, as the shirt got more loose, you focused on how the wound was.

It was a slice, not a stab luckily, so it wouldn't have caused as much damage as a stab would. But it still was damage that hurt.

He hissed in pain as his shirt moved away from his hurt chest, the wound being open to the air.

Slowly, he removed his other arm and finally got his blood soaked shirt out. He questioned where to put it without saying anything as he looked around but you just grabbed it and tossed it in the dustbin.

It was one of his favourites.

Seeing the slight pout on his face, you rolled your eyes because of course, Mingyu would find that to be an issue and not the fact that he was bleeding out.

“I'll get you another one.”

That made him look up at you, to which his eyes widened,

“Uh no I-”

“Shut up.”

You finished preparing the cotton to clean up his wound first, you turned to face him and for a brief moment you paused.

You didn't expect what was in front of you. Mingyu being shirtless was expected of course, but his toned torso and wait…were those abs??

You cleared your throat when you realised you might have been staring a little too long.

It wasn't like you weren't used to seeing people with muscular bodies or so. It was natural in your field for people to be fit.

But Mingyu. Holy shit, he looked like someone personally took their time on him.

“Uhm, okay so I'll just clean up your wound first and then disinfect it, then just bandage it up alright?”

Your voice sounded a lot less angry than before. Actually it sounded more timid if anything. It made Mingyu both shocked and curious as to why suddenly you'd seem so…nervous?

You moved to sit beside him, trying your best to not let your eyes waver more than they already have.

Unfortunately for you, fortunate for Mingyu, your eyes did wander and in fact lingered a little too long on his exposed chest. Along with his torso.

And he noticed.

And he realised.

Gulping slightly, no ordinary person would know but Mingyu did and the glint in his eyes shifted to something more confident, you raised your hand and gently began to clean the open wound.

It seemed it was not as deep as you initially thought.

Holy shit, I'm touching his chest.

You're not a teenager for goodness sake pull yourself together?!???

But his chest is buff and so- fuck. Fucking hell.

Your internal thoughts were in conflict as you cleaned up his wound, not even realising you were going over a place that was already cleaned.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed yours and you were startled out of your conflict.

“You already cleaned it enough,” Mingyu had to bite his tongue to not slip out any sort of pet names but that didn't stop the small smirk on his face from seeing your somewhat composed demeanour be a little thrown off by his sudden nakedness.

His hand holding yours made it seem like you were burning. It burned when he touched you.

And how would one react to a burn?

They'd move far away from the cause of said burn.

You pulled your hand out and stood up quickly,

“Right, right, I was just uh- making sure. I wouldn't want any infections or anything like that.”

You turned back to your first aid kit, turning your back on him and slightly shook your head.

Pull yourself together. He's just…a guy.

But was he really just any guy?

He was Kim Mingyu. The guy who caused you more stress than anything. The same guy who also would bother you a lot during missions.

And yet he was also the same guy who saved you today. You were ambushed during the mission and outnumbered.

It was you against six. You could handle them practically speaking but you also would have your attention split more than it should be. Meaning you wouldn't be prepared for a seventh guy from out of nowhere.

But Mingyu happened to be able to come there. On time too. As though he was keeping up with you despite being in another room with another problem.

What you didn't know was how quickly he made it out of that room when he heard you were ambushed. How he felt his heart drop when he heard you yelp in pain when you got attacked out of nowhere. How he couldn't actually care about the rest of the mission after that and what he cared about most was getting you out of there. Safely.

He knew perhaps it was risky to have jumped in front of you when you were going to get stabbed but darn it be him than you anytime.

Luckily you were also quick enough to make sure he wasn't actually stabbed and pushed him aside as you gained the extra hand and were able to take down the ambusher.

You were not at all happy with what he did. In fact, going as far as to not talking to him till you reached the agency because you were boiling in rage.

“You know you shouldn't have jumped in between like that.”

You said as you soaked up the cotton in hydrogen peroxide.

“But you would have gotten terribly hurt.” Mingyu frowned at your words. The doubt from before raising as to why you'd been so upset with him when he actually saved you.

“Yes but that would be my fault. I would get hurt in my own fight. I'd bleed and patch it up myself. There would be no one else hurt but me.”

You turned to face him, holding the cotton in your hand as you walked up again towards him.

“Not you who got hurt because of me. I wouldn't feel the…the guilt. You got hurt. Because of me.”

His eyes softened upon hearing your words. It made sense now. You were feeling guilty and that's why you'd been so upset. He thinks he'd feel the same too if you were to get hurt somehow because of him.

“I'm…I'm sorry I didn't think about that but I couldn't just sit back and let you get hurt knowingly, I just, I couldn't do that. Not to you.”

You sat back down to your original position, now having completely different emotions than before. But you weren't sure which you preferred because the current ones were only making you feel more worse if anything.

Lightly pressing the soaked cotton on his open wound, he hissed in pain as the alcohol came in contact with his open skin.

“It's fine Mingyu, you don't need to explain, I get it. I'd also do it. Thank you for…saving me.”

You don't need to thank me.I'd only do it for you though. I'd risk anything for you.

But instead he could only gasp in pain as you continued to clean,

“Yeah, what a time to say thank you when you're causing me only more pain.”

You rolled your eyes at his words but felt a little bad for him due to knowing the pain of hydrogen peroxide to an exposed wound.

“Oh, shut up now you big baby, this will help you.”

“Baby? Are we moving on to pet names now?”

“What??? I didn't- I didn't mean it that-”

“Oh I know, I was just messing with you.”

“You-!”

After a bit more cleaning and more arguing, you got up and grabbed the bandage.

“Now how will I wrap this?”

You questioned as you held it. He also got up, feeling a bit better but you still warned him not to move to much as the wound was not yet wrapped.

Then you got the idea of how to wrap it.

“Listen, what I'll do is wrap this around your entire chest, like the entire upper part alright? I don't have anything else besides this right now but it'll help temporarily. Tomorrow you go and get it properly dressed from Wonwoo.”

He nodded obediently and it was slightly cute as to how he almost resembled a little puppy quietly following instructions. Though you could see him getting tired from the way his eyes seemed to drift.

“I'll do it as quick as I can.”

And quickly you did, already wrapping over the wound enough,to the point Mimgyu had to tell you he felt like he couldn't breath and that's when you stopped.

No sign of blood.

You noted as you taped over the left over end part on the right side of his chest.

For this part, you were very close to him, to ensure the best precision. He was just glad it wasn't the left side of his chest or else you'd definitely feel how fast his heartbeat was going from the moment you got closer.

Mingyu likes you. Like really really likes you. You who stayed behind and treated his wound. You who felt guilty for him getting hurt for something he chose to do.

He thinks in this situation no matter how hurt he got, he was now sure about you. More specifically liking you.

“There. All done.” You patted down his chest lightly as you moved a little behind but before you could properly go, his hand out of nowhere held your own and pulled you closer.

It was unexpected so you couldn't help but stumble a bit as your eyes widened.

You were very close. Too close in fact you were sure if you moved a bit more closer, you might just end up kissing him.

It didn't seem like too bad of an idea.

“Mingyu, what are you doing?”

“I just, I want to tell you thank you for helping me out right now, properly.”

He smiled softly at you, his canines slightly peaking from beneath his closed lip smile and you swore you felt your body flush.

He looked…as handsome as he always did. Brown eyes shimmering in all sorts of emotions, lips a shade of pretty pink.

But you couldn't. You couldn't dare. Not now.

Clearing your throat, you pulled back and stepped behind, your body suddenly feeling a weird coldness from the sudden distance.

On the other hand, Minghu seemed confused. Did he push too far? He didn't mean to, he didn't want to rush anything, he just wanted to properly say thank you like actually say it and not do anything-

“It's alright. I hope you get better soon. I'll call Seungkwan to get you a shirt. You can get changed here. I'll just leave now, it's late anyways and you should to.”

“Have a goodnight agent Kim.”

Agent…Kim? Not even Mingyu?

Before he could even question your change of behaviour, you'd already moved out of your room as if you life depended on it.

As if you'd rather be anywhere but there.

As if you suddenly remembered your dislike towards him.

“Wait! Y/—”

Sighing out, in likely relief as you got out of your office, you made your way down to the lobby.

You couldn't help but feel the guilt, if not even more at how you left Mingyu just because you were a coward. Just because you didn't want to admit how he made you feel.

You couldn't do that to him. Not at this moment.

And perhaps you couldn't do that to him ever, for Kim Mingyu deserves the best.

And that was surely not you.

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[yikes-aemond]

I love you. It's ruining my life. (Part III)

pairing: Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!fem!reader (no descriptions of reader except that she wears dresses and has long hair)

warnings: 18+, smut, canon typical violence, cursing, drinking  

summary: You and Benjicot Blackwood face the consequences of Benjicot’s decision. 

word count: 4.7k 

author note: I’m having so much fun writing this little series. I’ve decided that there will be four or five parts in total, so look out for the next part soon. Happy reading!

part I can be found here. part II can be found here. part iv can be found here.

You were going to kill Benjicot Blackwood. 

That was the first thought you had after waking in an unfamiliar room with a splitting headache. You could forgive him for knocking you unconscious the first time. But for a second? Absolutely not.

The room you had been left in was uncomfortably warm. The dying fire in the hearth indicated that you had likely been here for hours. Groaning, you pushed yourself up from the bed you had been tucked into. Your dress clung to you like a second skin, and a quick brush of your fingers through your hair revealed knots and tangles. 

Oh yes, you were going to kill that Blackwood heir as soon as you got your hands on him. 

Making your way to the wall of windows on the right side of the room, your stomach sank. Dusk was settling in. You had been gone from Stone Hedge all day, and there no chance your absence had gone unnoticed. Your father would be furious.  

Glancing around the courtyard beneath the windows, you were not entirely shocked to find yourself at Raventree Hall. You had never visited the keep in person, but you had heard tales of the ancient stone walls adorned with climbing moss. From your vantage point, you could just make out the top of the colossal, dead weirwood tree in the godswood. Already ravens were gathering to roost for the night. 

You had to find Benjicot. Had to find him and ask him what in the Seven Hells possessed him to bring you here of all places. A Bracken behind enemy lines. 

You heard the lock at the door unlatch. Unsure if friend or foe approached, you glanced to your left and right but found no weapon. The best you could find was a candleholder. Grabbing it, you pressed yourself against the wall furthest from the door. Raising the makeshift weapon, you readied yourself to throw. 

A tall woman with long, dark hair and an archer’s bow attached to her back entered. When she spotted you, candleholder raised to strike, she lifted her eyebrows and huffed out a laugh.

“Put that thing down before you hurt yourself.” 

There was no doubt in who she could be. 

Alysanne Blackwood. Sister to Lord Samwell Blackwood. Aunt to Benjicot Blackwood. And Black Aly to all those who would dare cross her bow. 

With shaking hands, you returned the candleholder to its proper place. Dipping into a small curtsy, you said, “Lady Blackwood, I am—”

“I know who you are.” Alysanne said, cutting you off. She paused to look at you, eyes glancing up and down, taking in your soiled dress and tangled hair. You tried desperately not to fidget under her scrutiny. 

But then her face broke into a smile. You could see the family resemblance easily enough. Although not nearly as feral, Alysanne’s smile had the same vicious edge as Benjicot’s. “So, you are the Bracken who has stolen my dear nephew’s heart.”

You did not know how to respond. Any thought you might have had left your head under Alysanne’s gaze and her accusation. Seeing the panicked look on your face, she laughed again and gestured to the seats before the fire. “Come now, little Bracken. Sit with me. We women folk have much to discuss.”

You left the comfort of the wall and did as she bid. You had no idea what Alysanne wanted to discuss. Her mood seemed relatively pleasant, all things considered. But the Blackwoods were notorious for their quick tempers and could switch at a moment’s notice. 

Alysanne took the bow off her back, leaning it against the hearth but still within her reach. You tried to calm your racing heart, but your palms were starting to sweat. You did not believe that Alysanne would harm you, at least not physically. But Benjicot’s absence, even if only temporary, set you on high alert. 

You could not help but ask,“Where is Benji—I mean, where is Lord Blackwood?”

Alysanne seemed amused by your question. Leaning back in her chair, she regarded you before answering, “My nephew has been otherwise detained.”

Her tone and mocking smile struck a nerve. You could feel your own temper begin to flare. And you could tell that Alysanne was taking pleasure in your apparent discomfort, watching you try to get a grip on your emotions. You should not have been surprised. Nothing brought a Blackwood more joy than torturing a Bracken. 

You tried for diplomacy. “Lady Blackwood, please—”

“Call me Aly, little Bracken.��� She said, waving her hand at your formalities. “I think we need wine for this conversation.” 

What conversation? You were not sure your stomach could handle alcohol, but you were not stupid enough to refuse. 

With a full glass in hand, you watched Alysanne—Aly—take a deep drink. Setting the goblet down, she turned to you, a serious look in her eyes, and asked, “So, tell me, has my nephew fucked you yet?”

You choked on your wine.

Laughing, Aly gave you a thump on the back to help clear your airway. “You know, I’ve never met a Bracken with such delightful expressions.”

Finding your voice, you managed, “I’m happy I could be such a source of entertainment for you.” 

Aly picked up her wine again and smiled. Her gaze softening as she said, “I can see why he likes you.”

You felt your cheeks warm at the praise. You were desperate to know what Benjicot said about you to his family, but you had a feeling that Aly would not betray his confidence. The two might be aunt and nephew, but they were only a handful of years apart in age. Closer to a sister and brother. 

Taking another sip of wine, Aly’s face grew serious once again.“My question may have been crude, but I did not ask it to embarrass you. I need to know before I can advise my brother on how to proceed.” 

You swallowed down the wine that threatened to return back up. “How to proceed?”

Running a hand through her dark curls, Aly took a beat before responding. “Earlier today, a host of Bracken men showed up to Raventree Hall under a white flag and claimed that the Blackwoods had taken Lord Amos Bracken’s only daughter. My brother laughed in their faces and sent them away.” 

Aly took another deep drink of wine before continuing. “Not two hours later, Benjicot turns up with you in his arms, spinning a tale about finding you in the woods out cold, and seeing as how Raventree Hall was closer, decided to bring you here to see our maester.”

Wine forgotten, Aly leveled a hard look at you. “Of course, the maester did not find anything to explain your condition, except for a peculiar bump on the back of your head. If I didn’t know better, the bump looked like it came from the hilt of a sword or dagger. Most curious.”

You could not look at Aly, for you knew that your face would reveal too much. Would reveal that Benjicot lied. 

“And then there are, of course, the injuries on your neck.”

Your hand lifted to touch your neck, almost as if it was detached from the rest of your body. Your throat felt parched as you asked, “Other injuries?”

Aly smirked and leaned closer to you. “Oh yes. You seem to have some bruising on the sides of your neck. Almost looks like bite marks.” 

You felt yourself pale, the wine definitely threatening to make a reappearance. You wanted to sink into your chair, make yourself as small as possible. 

Aly knew that she had you. “So, I ask again, did my nephew fuck you? Did he take advantage—”

“No!” The denial was out of your mouth before you could think. No matter how angry you were with him, you refused to let anyone believe the worst about Benjicot. You would suffer any consequences, go to any lengths, to protect him and his honor. 

Stealing yourself as best you could to hold Aly’s eyes, you vowed, “I remain a maiden.” 

Aly held your gaze for a long moment, searching your eyes for any hint of deception. Waiting to see if you would crack under pressure. Finally, she nodded and let loose a deep sigh. “I did not think Benjicot capable of forcing a woman, but I had to ask. As to whether your maidenhead remains intact, I shall believe you, little Bracken. For now.”

You slumped back into the chair, suddenly exhausted. You felt as if you had just survived a great battle. And maybe you had. Black Aly was almost as notorious as her nephew. To do battle against them, whether by wit or sword, was to take your fate into your own hands.

But the war was not yet won. 

You hesitated to ask but you had to know, “How will you advise Lord Samwell?” 

Aly’s attention had turned to the dying fire, sipping her wine in thought. “Because you remain a maiden, the easy solution is to return you to Stone Hedge at first light before wind gets back to Bracken that you’re here.”

Your heart sank at her words. The moment you returned to Stone Hedge would be the moment you lost what little freedom your father had granted you. No longer would you be allowed to wander the grounds unaccompanied. No longer would you be able to steal away onto Blackwood lands in the hopes of seeing Benjicot. 

Worse still, you were of marriageable age and had been for some time. You were fortunate that your father had not betrothed you as soon as your courses started. But with war on the horizon, you knew your father would not hesitate to betroth you now should the right opportunity present itself.

Sighing again, Aly leaned back in her chair to match your relaxed posture. “But I have a strong feeling that my nephew, in all of his infinite wisdom, will oppose such a plan.” Glancing at you, she said, “He can be quite stubborn when he wants to be.”

You smiled to yourself, picturing the look on Benjicot’s face when he did not immediately get his way. “Yes, he is.”

Without warning, Aly stood up from her chair, causing you to scramble to your feet in response. “I’ll have dinner brought to you soon.” 

Straightening to your full height, spine locked, you asked, “Am I to be a prisoner, Aly?”

You watched Aly quickly mask the look of surprise on her face at your boldness. If you did not know any better, you would say she almost looked impressed. 

Turning her back to you and walking toward the door, she called out, “Not a prisoner yet, little Bracken. But best stay here for your own protection. Not all Blackwoods will treat you as kindly as my nephew.” 

With that, Black Aly opened the door and left. You sank back into your chair when you heard the lock latch close. 

Despite Aly’s assurances, you had never felt more trapped in your life. Dinner had come and gone, and there was still no word from Benjicot. You could feel your frustration and fear rise with each passing hour. 

You wanted to know what was happening. Were the Blackwoods sending word to your father? Were you going to be returned home? Were the Blackwoods going to forbid Benjicot from ever seeing you again? Would a war be fought over this? The Blackwoods and Brackens had fought each other over much less. 

All you could do was sit and think and dwell on the unknowns. You had explored every inch of the chambers, finding no books or papers to keep your mind occupied. Every second you spent in this godsdamn room drove you closer to a breaking point. 

When you heard the lock at the door begin to unlatch again, you sprung into action. You could not be alone in this room for a moment longer. Hiding on the other side of the door, you waited until the person entered your chambers, determined to fight your way out if necessary. 

You did not pause to consider whether this was a wise choice. You had no weapons nor training, but you did not care. You were a Bracken with your back against the wall. And your instinct was telling you to fight. 

So, when the door finally opened and a man entered your chambers, you acted. Leaping onto his back, you let out a scream, punching and kicking and clawing at anything you could get your hands on. The man cursed and tried to get a grip on you, but you squirmed out of his reach. 

Only when you broke skin and felt blood beneath your fingernails did you pause long enough to notice whom you had attacked. Dark, messy hair. A strong, powerful build. A familiar scent. 

Grasping your arms and removing them from his neck, Benjicot Blackwood turned to face you. And even though his face and hands were decorated with blood from your scratches, he looked at you like you were the most wonderful creature in all of Westeros. 

“Have you had your fill yet, my lady?” 

You did not know whether to kiss him or kill him. Perhaps both. And maybe in that order. 

Launching yourself into his arms, you kissed Benjicot with everything you had. His lips were full and warm, molding against yours instantly. With one hand splayed on your back and the other gripping your waist, he pulled you against him, flushing your bodies together until you could not tell where one of you began and the other ended. 

And when you tugged at his hair, he moaned into your mouth, biting your lip in retaliation. His bite was not hard enough to draw blood, but you felt your core tighten in response. You whimpered, deepening the kiss as you slid your tongue against his. But when he moved his hand to your breast, gliding his touch over your pebbled nipple, you pulled back. 

Panting heavily, you detached yourself from his arms and put space in between you. Benjicot’s cheeks were flushed and his breathing was as uneven as yours. You could see a question begin to form in his gaze, but he does not ask it, waiting instead for you to proceed. 

As soon as you got your breathing under control, you said, “We need to talk."

Benjicot nodded in agreement, moving to the chairs that you and Aly had occupied earlier. “I had a feeling you were going to say that.” 

When you settled across from him, you could feel the tension returning to your body. You did not know where the two of you stood, not really. You had shared kisses and pleasure, spoken words of love and devotion, but Benjicot had left you alone and in the dark—literally and metaphorically. You did not know what conversations had taken place or decisions made while you were confined to these chambers. And that thought—that he had not cared enough to even leave note—was enough to have your anger returning in full force. 

“What in the Seven Hells were you thinking bringing me here?” You snapped. 

Benjicot raised a brow at your harsh words, but responded evenly, “I recognized the voices we heard in the woods as Blackwood men. There was no explanation we could provide to them that would make sense and preserve your honor. Better for them to believe that I happened upon an unconscious, injured Bracken.” 

“Did you have to knock me unconscious? I could have pretended to have sprained my ankle!”

Shooting you a look of disbelief, Benjicot said, not unkindly, “My lady, you are many things. But a good liar is not one of them.”

You were going to strangle him. 

Benjicot smirked at your expression. “I love when you get that violent look on your face.” 

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed at his declaration. And when you did not otherwise respond, Benjicot relented, expression growing serious. “I did not mean to leave you alone all day. When we returned, and I found out that your father was looking for you, I had to explain everything to my father and aunt.”

You shot him a look of horror. “Everything?”

Now it was Benjicot’s turn to roll his eyes. “Yes, my lady, I told them everything. Told them how warm and wet your cunt felt against my—”

“Benjicot Blackwood!” You shrieked, shoving into his chest. “Have you lost your mind?”

He could not help but laugh. “If I have lost my mind, it is only because you occupy all my thoughts.” 

You felt a sliver of your anger melt away at his sweet words. “Fine, I am a terrible liar. That still does not explain why you decided to bring me here. You could have returned me to Stone Hedge.”

Benjicot’s expression, which had been light and open, shuddered closed. You watched him get a far off look on his face. You tried to catch his eyes, but he avoided your gaze. “Do you wish for that? To return to Stone Hedge?”

Your heart squeezed at his questions. For you knew that if you said yes, he would return you to your home. He may be Bloody Ben to the world, ruthless fighter who took no prisoners, but to you, he was kind and loving and protective. He would respect your wishes, even if that meant being away from him. 

Grabbing his hand, you traced his fingers, lingering your touch over the marks you had left behind. “I wish to be wherever you are.”

Benjicot took your hand in his, pulled you up from your chair, and settled you on his lap. Your face warmed at the intimacy, but you relaxed in his arms. Leaning your head against his chest, you let a feeling of peace wash over you, even if only for the moment.

You did not know how long the two of you sat in silence, content to just hold one another. But you knew that you could not stay like this forever. There were too many words left unspoken. Too many decisions to be made. 

Benjicot broke the silence first. “I brought you to Stone Hedge because I never wish to part from you. The thought of leaving you on Bracken land again gutted me.” He paused, throat working as he tried to gather his thoughts. Closing his eyes, Benjicot looked like he was bracing himself. “I knew that if I brought you here, brought you to my father and Aly, we could force the issue of us being together.”

Pulling away from his chest, you adjusted your legs to straddle his thighs. Benjicot’s hands gripped your waist to steady you. You clasped his face in your hands, demanding his gaze on yours. “We should have made that decision together. This is my life too, my future. I refuse to be under your thumb, Blackwood.” 

Lowering your face to his, you whispered against his mouth, “If you ever do something like that again, I will end you.” 

You did not know who kissed whom. But it did not matter. Benjicot’s mouth was on yours, devouring and claiming. Lifting you into his arms, and without breaking the kiss, he moved the two of you from the chairs to the bed. 

Your back hit the pillows. When you did not feel Benjicot’s weight on you, you opened your eyes to see him at the foot of the bed. Watching you. The look in eyes was pure hunger. His entire being seemed focused on you. On your body. The rise and fall of your breasts. The clenching of your thighs. 

“Benjicot.” There was a note of pleading in your voice.

His name on your lips broke whatever spell he was under. His lips returned to yours as if he were starving for your kiss. 

You spread your legs for him, letting his body fall into the cradle of your thighs. You flushed at the hardness you felt against your core. And when he drove his hips into yours, pressing that hardness against you, you moaned, legs trembling as you felt yourself grow wetter and wetter. 

Benjicot moved his kiss from your mouth down to your neck, biting and licking and marking for all the world to see. He wanted to brand you. Wanted everyone to know that you belonged to him. That you were his and he was yours.

He slid one hand up your leg, bringing your dress with him until it pooled at your waist, revealing your lower half to him, with only your small clothes in between.

You could not stop your hips from bucking when he dragged his hand over your covered cunt. You had never felt anything like this before. Your attempts at pleasuring yourself were nothing compared to what Benjicot did to you. You felt warm and achy and empty and completely out of control.  

“Will you let me see more of you, my lady?” Benjicot asked, not taking his eyes away from where his hand touched your heat. 

You were on a precipice. There was no turning back from this. No turning back from whatever ruin lay ahead of you. 

Letting out a breath, you whispered, “Yes.” 

No sooner had the word left your mouth were your small clothes ripped from your body. You did not have even a moment to protest, for the second your cunt was exposed to the air, Benjicot was bringing his hand between your folds. 

“Fuck.” Benjicot groaned. Slipping one finger into you, he pressed the heel of his hand against your clit. “You’re so wet, my lady.”

You whined at his words and the feeling of his hand working you. With every touch and circle of his fingers, you felt yourself growing closer and closer to that release you craved. 

But release evaded you. You rocked yourself against Benjicot’s hand, trying to force his movements to switch from slow and careful to forceful and demanding. 

“Benjicot, please—” 

“Please what, my lady?” His voice teasing, as he began to slow his movements. 

You groaned in frustration. You did not have the words. Did not know what to ask for. “I need something.” 

Benjicot stopped moving his hand entirely, and you could have cried. And when he removed his hand completely, you considered killing him all over again. 

“I swear on the old gods and the new—”

The look Benjicot shot you silenced the curse on your tongue. “No gods will hear you here, my lady.”

Glaring at him, you asked, “Do you wish for me to beg, Blackwood?” 

Benjicot hummed at the question. “A Bracken begging for a Blackwood to bring her pleasure? That does hold some appeal.” 

Before you could respond, Benjicot slid down your body, bracing both hands on your thighs to keep you open and spread wide. Your stomach clenched, as he brought his face to hover over your slick cunt. 

Benjicot glanced back up at you, waiting for a signal that you understood what he intended. Your breaths were uneven and rapid. The thought of his mouth on the most intimate part of you was beyond your comprehension. 

And when you nodded, Benjicot gave you that feral, wicked smile. The one that never failed to make your heart thud against your chest. He lowered his head, until all you could see was his dark, messy hair between your thighs. 

The first drag of his tongue against your center fractured your world. You felt undone and made whole again. You thought your heard Benjicot curse against your wetness, but you were too far lost in pleasure to be sure. 

He licked and licked and licked. Each swipe of his tongue brought a moan to your lips. He lingered on your clit, sucking and nipping until it was almost too much. You arched against him, unable to stop yourself from moving your hips against his face.  

Benjicot pressed a hand to your stomach, stilling you, as he slid his tongue straight into your cunt. You could not think, could not do anything except submit to the feelings he brought out in you. 

“You taste,” Benjicot moaned against you, “even better than I imagined, my lady.” 

You were sure you were crying. At the sight of your tears, Benjicot laughed and sunk two fingers into you, dragging another moan from the depths of your throat. 

Release was almost in your reach, just beyond your grasp. “Please, please, please.” You chanted, shaking your head back and forth against the pillow. 

Benjicot drove his fingers deeper and deeper, working his teeth and tongue against you, and with one final flick of his tongue to your clit, your back bowed off the bed, your release crashing into you. 

Even when you clenched down on his fingers and pulled at his hair, Benjicot did not stop moving against you. Fingers pumping. Tongue and lips feasting. He devoured whatever pleasure you gifted him. Only when you collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for air and reeling at the aftershocks, did he finally stop.

Your mind and body existed on different planes. You were not even sure you remembered your own name, so thoroughly had Benjicot upended your world. 

As you tried to put yourself back together, you noticed Benjicot adjusting himself in his breaches. You had never seen a cock before. But suddenly you found yourself desperate to see his. 

Sitting up, you placed your hand atop his, staying his movements. Benjicot glanced at you sharply, his breath catching in his throat. 

You met his stare. You did not know what you were doing. All you knew was that you wanted to give him even a fracture of the pleasure he had given you. 

Swallowing your insecurities, you asked, “Will you show me what to do?”

For once, Benjicot seemed to be at a loss for words. But he helped you undo the laces and unfasten his breaches. The muscles in his thighs shifted as he pulled himself free. 

Benjicot’s cock was enormous. Although you had nothing to compare it to, you were sure he had to be on the larger side. Enormous and hard and leaking from the slit at the top. Your mouth felt parched at the sight. 

You looked up at Benjicot, only to find his eyes focused wholly on you and your reaction. You did not want to disappoint him. 

“How do I please you, my lord?” Benjicot groaned at your words, taking himself in hand. Up and down, he stroked his length with a force that surprised you. 

Benjicot watched as your eyes widened at his actions. Watched the way you licked your lips. Watched the way you rubbed your thighs together. You enjoyed seeing him this way. 

“Have you ever touched a cock, my lady?” He knew the answer but wanted your confirmation. 

Shaking your head, you reached out to run your finger over the leaking slit. Benjicot grabbed your and placed it on his cock, trembling when you wrapped your hand around his length. 

And what a feeling that was. The ruthless, cruel Bloody Ben trembling from the pleasure you gave him. The idea of him being wholly at your mercy was intoxicating. 

Your own hand shook a little as you stroked him. The skin was softer than you had imagined, but he felt hard as steel beneath. You felt him shudder against you as you worked your hand up and down. 

“That’s it, my lady.” Benjicot murmured, lost in the feeling of your hand against him. “Just a little harder. You won’t break me.” You followed Benjicot’s direction, squeezing his cock and pumping as fast as you had seen him do before. 

And when he felt your nails graze the sensitive underside of his cock, he arched off the bed, chest heaving.

“You handle my cock so well.” You flushed at the praise, your own breaths coming out quicker and quicker the more you touched and explored. 

With one final hard twist, Benjicot exploded in your hand, moaning your name as he came. 

How many times had he imagined this? How many times had he thought of you while touching himself? And now you were here, in his home, and he never wanted you to leave. 

Benjicot surged forward, kissing you with all of his pent up feelings. He refused to live without you. Refused to give you up because of an ancient feud and a looming war. 

So, even though you were both half dressed, slick with sweat and spit and gods know what else, Benjicot asked, “My lady, would you do me the honor of marrying me? Tonight?” 

final author note: I hope you liked it! I think I updated my taglist to reflect everyone who asked to be added, but please let me know if I missed you or if you would like to be added for future updates.

taglist:

@painted-flag @majoso12

@strollthroughstars29 @a-whiterose

@rebeccawinters @alifeinspiredd

@klutzylaena @poppyflower-22

@iliterallyhavenoideawhattowrite @justannadahfanfictor

@aaaaslaaaan @hobis-hope95

@username199945 @daddyslittlevillain

@flusteredmoonn @nixtape-foryou @prettykinkysoul

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: You are blissfully unaware of how deep exactly Rook and Vil's affections run for you; of the extents they would go for you, and the boundaries they would cross in your name.

Pairing: Yan!Vil x Reader x Yan!Rook

Genre: Yandere

TW: Yandere Vil and Rook, talk of killing someone, Reader is not Yuu/Prefect.

AN: Rook and Vil ily but why are you both so hard to write for 😭 Like, yall are fun to think for but it was so hard to write down the concept in my mind ysgshskejd. I genuinely don't know if I was able to do them justice, please forgive me if they're a bit ooc in this. This started off as a joke thing because of a friend, but then it turned yandere for some reason that I don't know but we're vibing so it's okay ^^

You groaned as you flopped face first onto the couch in Vil's room, uncaring of the fact that you were still wearing your shoes. Vil glanced at you from the corner of his eyes as he sat at his vanity, narrowing his gaze at your unmoving form.

"(Name), remove your shoes."

" 'm too tired," you grumbled, and Rook chuckled from his place on Vil's bed. "My, my Chevalier de Beauté, how bold of you to reject Roi du Poison's order," he teased you, getting up from the bed to walk over to where you were.

" 'm tired," you whined once again, drawing out a chuckle from both of your boyfriends.

"Still, as Roi du Poison's devoted hunter, I cannot let you get away with such a grave crime," he hummed, his voice light and sweet to your ears. Kneeling on one leg, Rook carefully untied your shoelaces, gently placing your shoes on the floor by the couch. Each movement was smooth and reverent; one would think he was handling a priceless treasure with the way he made sure to not make a single noise as he rid you of your shoes.

He watched in amusement as your only reaction was to sigh and turn your head slightly to look at him. Ever watchful, he immediately zeroed in on the eyebags that you had tried to conceal under layers of makeup. Rook removed the glove from one of his hands, raising it to smooth back your hair into a somewhat presentable state.

"Pray tell, what has you so stressed?" He asked, and you could see Vil sit straighter (if that was even possible since his posture was always impeccable) at his words, no doubt listening to the two of you.

"Its nothing too bad, really. I'm just stuck with uncooperative assholes in Professor Crewel's class-"

"Language," Vill gently chided, but you could make out the concern in his voice. You continued speaking, eventually fully ranting to Rook and Vil about how absolutely bull-headed and uncooperative your group members were, and how you were practically the only one working on the project.

Both the boys stayed quiet as they heard you vent your frustrations out to them. Once you were done, Rook gave you a smile. His eyes held a dangerous light, sharp gaze befitting the hunter he prided himself in being.

"Would you like me to kill them for you?"

You felt a shiver run down your spine at his tone, the familiar smile on his face somehow turning malicious in front of your very eyes. Very slowly, like prey trying to not agitate the predator in their bid to escape, you silently sat up on the couch. Your eyes were trained on his, caution and hesitancy swirling in them (a very pretty mixture, if you asked Rook; what he wouldn't give to see that look of confusion and fear in your eyes more often-)

"No killing, Rook," Vil spoke from his seat in front of the mirror, turning completely to face the two of you. Immediately, Rook turned back into the playful boy you always knew, as he chuckled, "Ah, I jest, of course." He winked at you, and you wondered if your senses had played a trick on you as the heavy atmosphere that had been in the room mere moments ago dissipated instantly.

"Perhaps I could speak to these classmates of yours, hm?"

"O-oh, there's no need for that," you nervously chuckled. "I already informed Professor Crewel about it, and he said he'll give them a fitting punishment," you hurriedly explained. Your fingers fiddled with the cuffs of your blazer, a clear sign of your discomfort at the thought of Rook potentially talking to the people from your group. As irritating as they were, you didn't really want to get them on his (or for that matter, anyone's) bad side, especially with how... weird and quite frankly terrifying Rook had been earlier.

Your nervousness did not go unnoticed, as Vil chuckled, crossing his arms elegantly as he looked at the two of you. "Rook, you've scared them."

Vil stood up from his seat, making his way over to you. Carefully, he lifted your face to make you meet his eyes and smiled. "Rook was only joking, my dear. Don't worry." The gentle touch sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach, and the soft smile complementing his words made your earlier worries go away.

Rook looked at you, a mix of surprise and amusement in his eyes as he took your hand in his own. "Ah, dear Chevalier de Beauté, you need not worry at all," he said as he placed a light kiss on the back of your hand.

"You are precious to me, so I cannot help but wish to take care of anything that may displease you. But, my apologies if I went too far with my joke."

His voice was sincere as he spoke, and you couldn't help but smile at him despite his... slightly concerning words. Rook was a weirdo most of the time. Maybe it was just a well-intended joke that you just overthought about?

You chuckled, missing the way Vil's shoulders seemed to relax and how Rook's smile became a little less forced.

"It's alright Rook."

"You nearly gave us away, Rook."

Vil's voice was uncharacteristically cold as he stared down at the hunter kneeling in front of him. You had gone back to your own dorm room some time ago, saying that you needed to finish one of Professor Trein's assignments, giving the two boys some much needed privacy to have this conversation.

"My sincere apologies Roi du Poison. I did not mean to, but to see their beautiful face contorted in such anger, such frustration... it caught me off guard. I was careless in my wish to take away some of their burden, and I shall accept any punishment you deem acceptable, my fair queen," Rook said, his voice repentant as he stared at the hem of Vil's dorm clothes.

Vil sighed after a long and tense silence. How could he remain cross with his beloved hunter any longer, when he was this remorseful? Besides, Vil had been quick enough to salvage the situation in time, and you were still blissfully unaware of how deep exactly their affections ran for you; of the extents they would go for you, and the boundaries they would cross in your name.

"Get up," he ordered, and the hunter rose to his feet, finally daring to look his queen in the eyes. "Go, and find every little thing there is to find about those useless students. Every. Single. Thing. But do not, touch a hair on their heads. That will be your punishment."

Vil's voice was calm and collected, like a queen delivering a death sentence. Rook bowed reverently.

"As you wish, my dear queen."

[mysterious-adventurer]

I'd Never Forgive Myself - Liam Mairi x Reader

A/N: Hi everyone! I just finished reading Fourth Wing and I was absolutely devastated by what happened to Liam. Naturally I had to write a fix it fic. The reader's dragon's name is Silah, I picture her as a blue swordtail but feel free to picture her as your favorite dragon. I hope you enjoy reading this!

Summary: At the Battle of Resson y/n realizes that Liam's life is in danger and makes a risky decision to save him. Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort.

Please do not repost.

TW: Descriptions of battle.

My heart is pounding in my chest. Liam is hanging onto Tairn for dear life and Deigh is fighting for his against the wyvern that is trying to tear him to shreds. Deigh isn't winning this fight, and he doesn't stand a chance on his own. I can see the moment Violet realizes that Liam's life is in danger. I see her urge Tairn to fly faster, but they aren't close enough, they'll never reach Deigh in time. But I'm closer, Silah and I can make it, I know we can. We have to because I can't lose Liam. Not before I've worked up the courage to tell him - no, not going there. With all of my focus on saving Liam, I feel a rush a magic as a vision takes over. I see myself getting as close the wyvern as possible and then leaping from Silah's back onto the wyvern, I see myself plunging my sword into the weak spot between two scales at the base of its neck. Then, I'm pulled back to the present. I know how to save Liam's life; I just have no clue what it will cost me. 

        "y/n! Don't even think about it! You're going to get yourself killed!" Silah roars in my mind. 

        "I'm not just going to stand by and watch Liam die when I can save him! I'd never be able to forgive myself."  

        "There has to be another way!"

        "You and I both know there isn't" I stand as Silah gets closer to the wyvern preparing myself for the leap. Silah growls unhappily but says nothing else. As ruthless as she is, she has learned that I am every bit as stubborn and that there is no stopping me once I've made up my mind. Then, just at the ideal moment, the one I saw in my vision I leap from Silah's back onto the wyvern. 

        The wyvern screeches angrily in response but does not tear its focus from Deigh. I can feel that the magic controlling it is so strong that it cannot abandon its mission to toss me off its back, even though it wants to. I try my best to balance carefully and move as quickly as possible up the wyvern's back to reach its neck. The vulnerable spot is exactly where I knew it would be. A small gap between two scales where the base of the wyvern's neck meets its back. Under normal circumstances I might not have paid any attention to it, but right now I know that this small chink is about to change everything. I can see Deigh struggling more and more with each passing second. I draw my sword and drive it down into the wyvern with all my might. The creature lets out a horrendous screech but lets go of Deigh. I see him land safely nearby as he begins healing his wounds with magic. The wyvern tosses its head back attempting to snap at me as it shifts its full focus onto killing me. When it realizes it can't reach me that way it bucks violently and then I am weightless. 

        I feel myself plummeting towards the ground at an alarming speed and I know that I am going to die. At least Liam will be alright I think to myself as I close my eyes and try to accept my fate. Then my fall is broken suddenly, jarring every joint in my body. I hear the beat of wings above me and then nothing...

-Later-

        When I come to again, I'm lying in a warm, comfortable bed. I slowly blink the blurriness out of my eyes in an attempt to adjust to the bright sunlight streaming in from the other side of the unfamiliar room. I sit up trying to get my bearings. 

        "You're awake"

        I turn to see Liam as he stands from a chair beside my bed. Without hesitation I launch myself out of the bed and into his arms.

        "Liam! Are you okay?" for just a moment he holds me close to his chest, but then to my surprise he pushes me away. 

        "I'm fine, but what the hell were you thinking y/n?" his eyes are clouded with emotion, but his voice is heavy with anger and the muscles in his jaw are tense. I've never seen Liam angry with anyone before. 

        "That wyvern was going to kill Deigh and if he had died, you would've too, I couldn't just stand by and let that happen."

        "I'm grateful, but I don't ever want you to risk your life for me again." 

        "Liam, I don't understand why you're so upset," for a moment we just stand there, inches apart, staring at each other, tension crackling like electricity between us. Then, Liam grabs my face and kisses me - hard. I wrap my arms around the back of his neck, running my fingers through his short cropped blonde hair as I deepen the kiss. It should be impossible, but in that one kiss I can feel all of the pent-up emotions and unspoken words we've both carried with us for months. 

        The kiss seems to last forever, both of us lost in each other, in what we've been holding back from, but finally we break apart our chests heaving. Liam rests his forehead against mine and his eyes are soft now filled with adoration. 

       "If anything, ever happened to you y/n, I'd never forgive myself. Please don't scare me like that again."

        "Please don't give me a reason to." 

His lips are on mine again, gentler this time, less urgent as we both savor what we thought we'd lost forever. 

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 25: Are Family Reunions Always This Awkward?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter twenty five of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 5.5K

Warnings: I'm gonna label this one 18+ because it's got some heavier things in it, a few more sexual references, and it's kind of dark (more sad). Dark themes, Angst, Cursing, Sexual References, A little bit of heavy making out, Family Problems- A LOT of family problems, Homelander being a freak (he is), References to rape (It's only for a moment, but it doesn't make it any less terrible), Homelander is really bad in this chapter, Oedipus Complex (It's Homelander), Threatening, Past Trauma, Death Mentioned, Kidnapping. Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: One last warning, Homelander is a freak. Honestly the guy creeps me out in general, but in this he's especially creepy. AND It did not bring me joy to write this. I struggled with it, but I think it’s the thing that has to happen to move this story forward. And this chapter legit has the biggest tone shift in the UNIVERSE of tone shifts.

“Are you angry with her?” Ben’s voice rumbles up through his chest as you lay beside him. You were sharing the same pillow, faces inches apart, breathing the same air. His hand was tracing shapes into the small of your back, arm draped heavy over the curve of your hip, but it was a comforting weight. It reminded you that he was there and that he wanted to be, and you were getting used to that.

"A little." You breathe with a frown. Your hands are locked at the back of Ben's neck, gently dragging through the hair at the nape of his neck the way you know he likes. He groans softly at the movement, leaning further towards you as you do. "But now learning about everything that happened with Charlie, I get it. He was manipulating her the same way that Vought manipulated us for so long, the same way that they manipulated Homelander as he grew up."

Ben frowns at the mention of your son.

Rosemary had been calmer about the reveal of Homelander as her brother, but you figured that maybe you needed to let her wrap her head around it.

Maybe she was more focused on what Vought had done to me.

After Rosemary's confession this morning the day had been spent trying to figure out what you were going to do about your son. Butcher, Hughie, and Legend had been just as surprised at the news. And you knew that Butcher was waiting for some kind of hesitation to proceed with the plan to kill Homelander, but he wouldn't find any.

Homelander needed to be stopped, he was a monster, and you knew that there wasn't a shred of humanity left. It broke your heart to admit that to yourself, that your son was a monster, but it was true. Homelander became the thing that Vought warped and twisted him into. There was no semblance of someone that you could care about left, no reminder of humanity in his eyes.

At least that was what you told yourself, and it was what you told Ben, but deep down you wished that you were wrong. You wished that maybe there was something left behind, something redeemable.

He grew up without a family in a cold lab, raised by monsters who did with him what they wished.

You think to reason with yourself. Maybe it was because you remembered what Ben said that Vought tried to do to him. It was true of course, Vought had tried to do the same thing to Ben and you when you took the serum. And maybe it did work on Ben a little bit, the façade that he adopted for Soldier Boy did seem to lean in the direction of warm-blooded American symbol that Vought wanted, but Ben was different and so were you.

"If you're not sure about this, we can try to talk to him." Ben whispers leaning his forehead against yours.

"I know. We can try, but I don't think Butcher is really going to go for that plan."

"I don't give a fuck about him. I only care about you."

"Uh-huh?" You smirk. "You don't care about anyone else?"

"Huh?"

"No body else? Because you and Lou looked pretty cozy earlier playing go fish."

They had. Lou had won and Ben was trying his best not to be upset that he got beat at a card game by a four year old.

"That little girl is a shark. Just like someone else I know." Ben snorts out a laugh and pulls you closer to him, so much so that you can feel the ghost of his smile against your lips.

“Well I never-“ You smile nudging your nose into the space between your faces.

"Fine, you caught me. I do care about her, and I care about Rosemary. Even if she does fucking hate me.”

“She doesn’t hate you as much as she thinks she does.”

“Hmm.”

"But I knew it." Your lips brush against his. "You're such a big softie."

Ben rolls his eyes. "Only for you Sweetheart." His hand stops tracing shapes against the back of your shirt and instead flattens against your back to pull you tighter against him. Your fingers thread through the locks of his hair, loving the way he feels pressed up against you, loving how after all these years it feels the same way and how it still feels like he was made for you and that you were made for him. When you were with Ben you didn't feel fat, because every soft part of you molded against the hardness of his muscles so perfectly that it made you feel like you belonged together.

"You know, I don't really like go fish all that much." Ben's smirks, kissing you back enthusiastically, his beard scratching against your skin in a way that makes everything else fade into the background. "I wouldn't mind playing some strip poker with you though."

"Oh really? What a surprise. Because you've always been better at poker than me."

"That's exactly why it would be fun." He rolls you over on your back, his large body over yours, his hips fitting between your legs, bringing them up around his waist with his free hand as he keeps kissing you.

"You're a man of simple tastes I guess." You laugh into his mouth, tightening your grip in his hair, tugging at the strands.

"Nothing simple about you doll." He all but growls against your lips. "And the only thing that I want is you."

The kiss deepens enough that you can feel yourself quickly losing yourself in him, but that's the way it always seemed when he kissed you. It felt like you held your arms out and spun in a circle until you were drunk and your head was spinning so fast nothing else seemed to fit, but Him. Time seemed to slow, the earth stopped spinning, everything around you was gone and the only thing left behind was Ben. You wondered if it was like that for him.

"Fuck you taste like strawberries." Ben mutters into your mouth.

Of course you did. You had ice cream before you came to bed, taking bites from Lou's bowl when she wasn't looking.

Ben tasted like the vanilla ice cream he’d had that he chased down with a glass of whiskey. You could feel yourself getting drunk on the sweet and vintage taste, sinking further into the mattress with his comfortable weight on top of you.

You moan into his mouth, moving your hands from his hair to grip his shoulders so tight that Ben could feel the bruises from your fingertips forming against his skin, but he didn’t care. You knew he liked it, knew that he liked that you were the only one strong enough to do that to him. He drags his lips down to kiss along your jawline, finally finding the place just in its shadow to suck another mark to replace the one that had faded a few days ago.

“Ben-“ You giggle, feeling the tickle of his beard against your skin. “You’ve really got to stop doing that.”

The words held no power, you didn’t want him to stop, didn't want any of this to end. It wasn't just because it felt good, it was because it felt right, the two of you together finally.

“Doing what?” He smirks up at you innocently.

Sometimes you hated how pretty he was, it meant that he got away with whatever he wanted and you were along for the ride. But in a pinch it was a good thing. When the two of you were children, Ben's good looks and charms had gotten the two of you out of trouble more than once.

“You keep giving me hickeys and it’s going to scar our daughter for life. Not to mention Lou asked me what it was today and I wasn’t about to have THAT conversation with a four year old.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it.” He drops his lips back down to the same spot. “I remember everything you like.”

His words are breathed against your skin, caressing something deep inside that makes you shudder beneath him.

Immediately you're transported back to the night of your birthday, when Ben made love to you and made you feel seen, understood, and loved for the first time in your life. The memories of that night wash over you in full color, moments that you wished to relive over and over again with Ben.

“Did you think I would forget?” Ben purrs as he continues to kiss along the hollow your throat, igniting something that you hadn’t felt in forty years. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget that night. Ever be able to forget how it felt to finally make love to you, to finally have you the way I wanted for so long, and to finally show you how much you mean to me.”

He raises his head from your throat, hands gripping your waist tightly to keep you wrapped around his body. His green eyes shine with mischief, his dark hair falling forward into his face as he stares down at you, seeing through you like no one ever has. His expression softens. “Because you do y/n. You mean everything to me” His voice is quiet, but it doesn’t make what he said any less important.

You gently cup his cheeks, pulling his lips back down in a fierce kiss that burns through your body. Ben smiles into your mouth, letting his guard down and as he does you leverage your weight to roll him over on his back so now you’re in his lap and he’s staring up at you, his eyes shining with something that almost makes you grab the front of his shirt and haul him back up to you for another kiss.

You smirk widely at him, hands planted against his toned stomach. He’d gone to bed without wearing a shirt again and you were far from complaining. You lean forward, your lips barely brushing his ear. “What makes you think I’ve forgotten what you like?”

“Fuck sweetheart. I won’t complain about anything you do to me.” Ben groans. His hands are holding on to your hips, pushing up your shirt to rest on the curves of your pelvis. "As long as I get to be with you, I'll be happy."

You kiss along his jaw, feeling the heat of his body radiating up through where you’re touching.

“Sweetheart?” Ben’s voice is strained, hands splayed wide over your hips. The roughness of his palms is comforting and familiar, the warmth of his skin  soothing. No one else ever seemed to be as warm as him. 

 Your lips drop to his throat as you kiss along the skin loving the tickle of stubble against the tip of your nose. “I’m a little busy at the moment baby.” You hum against him  as you begin to such a mark into the hollow of his throat, because you’re the only one able to do that to him.

Ben moans softly as you do it, shuddering below you, and it makes you feel powerful that you’re able to do that, to make him fall apart and make him lose himself in you the way he always seems to consume you.

“Y/n-“ Ben breathes  as you wrap yourself tighter around him, continuing to suck on the same spot. “Hmm?” You pull back to look at his face, raising a hand to push back the dark strands that have fallen into his eyes with a gentle hand.

You still were having a hard time with that despite everything. That Ben genuinely wanted to be yours the way you were always his. Somewhere deep down the little girl you used to be was finally content, finally able to hold the little boy she had loved for decades.

“I never said thank you.” He murmurs sitting up so you slide back into his lap and he’s able to hold you to him, his arms circling your waist.

“For?” Your arms link behind his neck. You can’t stop the soft smile that pulls at your lips when you look at your best friend. It was weird to think that you’d known each other so long and not know what you were missing, not know how perfect this would feel.

He kisses you again. “You always take care of me. Always have taken care of me.” Ben drops his lips to brush against your shirt over the scar the bullet left behind just over your heart.

You knew he was thinking about the day that you took a bullet for him and you wondered how much he thought about that. If the memory haunted him, if all the memories of your deaths haunted him.

“Well somebody’s got to. You’re a mess.”

“Not when I’m with you.”

“No.” You say happily keeping his head pressed against your chest. “That’s because I do my job. It's difficult sometimes but-"

"Shut up." Ben groans.

It's quiet for a few minutes as you stay there, gently stroking your fingertips in the way you know he likes, the dark strands shuffling through your hands.

He breathes deeply, as if he wishes to breathe you in, to pull you into him until there's nothing left but him and you. "I missed you so much Sweetheart."

"I missed you too Ben."

"And I-" His voice cracks with emotion, his next words getting caught in the back of his throat.

"Ben?" You cup his cheek worried. His bright green eyes have dimmed and you see something pass through them that looks almost like shame. "What's wrong?"

"I'm so sorry."

"What did I say about apologizing?"

"Not for Countess. I'm sorry if the way you loved me ever felt like a burden.” He swallows.

You remember the words you said to Rosemary earlier about what love should be like.

“Ben- do you want me to tell you the truth?”

“Always.”

 You sigh, stroking your thumb across his cheekbone. “Sometimes it did, but only because I’d loved you for so long and it always felt like I was trying to hold on to who you were before you became Soldier Boy and trying to run to catch up. Like I had to change who I was to keep you happy and I really just wanted you to be happy Ben. You weren’t happy when we were kids and you were so excited about being supes and I-“

“I was happy when I was with you.” Ben whispers leaning his forehead against yours. “When you were gone I wasn’t. When I went away on those stupid filming trips and you were at your apartment all I thought about was getting back to you. I didn’t care about the films or the fame, if you weren’t there I didn’t see a point. And all I wanted was for you to be happy too, but not like that-“

“It wasn’t always bad, just sometimes. When I’d have to intervene between you and someone else or when you’d come to my apartment smelling like someone else or when I’d occasionally walk in on you and another woman in your apartment or at herogasm.” You sigh. “I didn’t have a right to feel the way I did. I shouldn’t have been jealous, you didn’t belong to me-“

“But I do.” He doesn’t blink, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look remorseful for sharing too much. “Always. And I swear that I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you, choosing you like you chose me that night.”

You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes as you sit there on his lap, feeling the familiar contours of his body wrapped around yours. “I don’t regret it.” You murmur. “You are my family. And I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You’re not going to lose me. I love you sweetheart.”

“I love you too Ben.”

He kisses you fiercely, taking away any pain from the past and finally making you forget the moments he was gone, because now he was here and he wasn’t going anywhere. Ben presses his forehead back into your chest, tightening his grip on your waist.

You take in a deep breath smelling the comforting smells that you ascribe to Ben, but there's another smell that's coming from somewhere in the room. It's familiar, but you can't place it. In the corner of your eye something is moving, and you glance to the right noticing for the first time that the sliding glass door is open, the floor length curtains fluttering in the breeze and you knew for a fact that you’d left it closed.

“That’s so cute.” A familiar voice says.

Your entire body goes cold, the warmth you felt with Ben fading almost instantly. Ben's head shoots up from where it was resting on your chest, to stare at something or rather someone behind the two of you.

"You know, it really is every kid's dream that after all these years-" Homelander sighs happily. “ their parent's still love one another."

He was lounging in one of the sitting chairs at the opposite side of the room, his ridiculous cape draped over the back like a train as he watched the two of you in bed.

You can't move, can't breathe.

 He's here. How is he here? How did he find us?

You rack your brain trying to think about what to do, but all you can do is hold on to Ben. It wasn't that you were afraid for yourself, you knew that you could take him down if need be, the exact thing that you'd been considering the entire day, but you mind drifts to Rosemary and Lou upstairs.

 “But I can see why dad loves you so much mom. I mean you are so beautiful and you look really good for your age." His eyes glimmer black in the light and he has the audacity to wink.

Ben’s body immediately pushes yours behind him to block you from view. “What the fuck do you want you sick son of a bitch?” Ben snarls.

“Don’t talk about mom that way.” Homelander grins. But it’s the smile of a shark, pretty until it gets too close. All teeth and gums and things that come in the darkness to swallow you whole.

"How did you find us?" You swallow still thinking of Lou upstairs sleeping comfortably.

"I have you to thank for that mom." Each time he says the word 'mom' you try not to flinch. "I was flying by to see Stan when I watched the two of you 'talk' and when you left I followed you here."

I did this. I'm the reason why he found us. I was too wrapped up in what happened to fucking check if anyone was following me.

"You know the other day when we first met I was angry that you were able to hold me off, but watching you with Stan," Homelander chuckles. "That was inspired. Something special. I didn't realize how powerful you really were. And that tornado the other day- wow."

Another cold chill traces the length of your spine.

How long has he been watching us? Flying around outside of the house, staring through windows, watching from the shadows, marking our every move?

Another thought follows. He knows about Lou.

"I'm so honored to have a mother like you. And Soldier Boy as a father." Homelander's eyes trace over the two of you appreciatively. "It's a dream come true."

There was something haunting about the way he spoke to the two of you, almost as if the child that grew up in a lab was coming out, almost with childlike wonder and awe.

"I can't believe they tried to keep our family apart for so long." Homelander's gaze softens when he stares at the two of you. "That Vogelbaum and Stan Edgar decided that it would be better for me to be out of your lives but here I am after all these years, reunited."

Ben's right arm tightens where it's wrapped around your waist, his hand pressed into you back as he puts himself between you and Homelander. You can feel his skin heating with the force of his rage, hear the way his heart has begun to beat faster as he tries to think of a way out of this.

You weren't going to tell Homelander that he was your son, you thought it would be easier that way, with him not knowing that fact. Thought that it would be easier for you to dispose of him if he didn't call you 'mom' but now? It was harder.

Harder to look at him when you could see the subtle ways he looked like Ben, see the proud nose that reflected your father, smell the hairspray that covered the dark brown he must have had, see the strong jaw, the same one that you'd traced with your fingertips on Ben's face, and see the small freckles under the smudged makeup of Homelander's cheeks, the same ones the Ben and Rosemary had.

"I was angry when I found the files at Vought, when I saw exactly how hard they worked to keep us all apart. But I'm here now-"

"What the fuck do you want?" Ben spits.

Homelander blinks for a moment confused. "Isn't it obvious? I'm here for you. I want to be apart of this family. I see how you are with Lou and Rosemary and I want that. And I can't wait for you to meet your other grandson Ryan. I'm finally going to give him the family he deserves."

"We don't want anything to do with you." Ben's eyes narrow and Homelander frowns.

"I understand." Homelander stands from the chair he's sitting in, and this time Ben rises from the bed. He's shirtless, but with Ben it didn't matter what he was wearing, he could look damn intimidating when he wanted to. "Butcher's told you all about me right?" Homelander tsks. "Little William Butcher. He's always had it out for me-"

"He has a right to." You narrow your eyes and slide out of Bed so that you're standing beside Ben.

Homelander tilts his head to the side as if trying to think about what you're trying to say, but then he laughs. "Oh you're talking about Becca right? Little tease. I'm sure dad here can relate to the idea that some women, just really do ask for it, right?"

Your jaw tightens in repulsion as a wave of nausea comes surging up from the pit of your stomach realizing exactly the type of monster Homelander was. He wasn't a hero, he was a predator, a venus fly trap complete with all the pretty things to draw you in only to swallow you whole and leave no semblance of yourself behind.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Ben spits. "I'm a lot of things, but I'd never do that to a woman, not if she begged me to stop, not if she didn't want it."

Homelander shrugs. "Don't knock it til you try it."

"You're sick." You could feel your eyes shifting to purple, the room beginning to tremble with the force of your anger and disgust.

"No." He holds up a finger. "I'm not. That's just William, making you believe that I'm unhinged."

"Butcher has not made us believe anything. We've seen it." You respond. "I've seen it in the way you look at people, seen it in the way you smile, in the way you fight, seen it in your eyes-"

"You don't know-"

"I do. Something about us Homelander, is that when you've lived as long as we have, we know what a monster looks like."

"I'm not a monster." His smile drops into a frown.

"You are."

"I'm your son-" Homelander sputters.

"You might be our blood, but you're not our son." The words break you to say, but you hold it together. "Look I'm sorry. Sorry that you grew up that way. Sorry that they turned you into this. Sorry that Ben and I weren’t involved in your life, that we couldn’t have prevented the man you became."

"But-" Homelander glances from Ben to you in confusion.

"My father always saw the good in people." You continue, feeling the emotions at war in your chest, the ones that tell you that this man is your son and the ones that tell you this man is a monster. Your eyes skate over him. “But I don’t see any in you. You’re unredeemable. And as much as it hurts us to push you away, because you of all people need a family.   We're going too, because we don’t see any good in you."

Homelander stands there surprised, and you see the façade fall for just a moment, noticing the anger, pain, suffering, sadness, and rage that war within him, each emotion skating across his face in tandem with one another.

"But I found you." Homelander's eyes are misty. "I'm here. I'm your son! I'm your blood." He repeats, his voice breaking in a way that tugs at your heart.

"You might be our blood." Ben repeats watching Homelander. "But you’re not our son. You're just a disappointment."

If you didn't know Ben, you wouldn't understand the weight of those words, but you knew Ben better than anyone, knew how many times that his own father shouted those words at him. You remembered the nights that Ben crawled in through your window after the fights and when he thought you'd fallen asleep you could feel Ben tremble. You hated that his father did that to him and you worked hard to make sure that he didn't hurt as much as he had, just as Ben worked hard to make sure that you didn't remember the things your mother had said and done to you.

Before Homelander can respond, you feel someone else enter the room.

"Aunty y/n? I couldn't sleep. I had a nightmare and I can't find mommy." You hear Lou's voice say and your head turns to the doorway that leads into the basement. Lou is standing there, rubbing her eyes with one hand wearing her matching pink polka dot pajamas. Homelander turns his head to look at the little girl, the red in his eyes fading as he does, a sickening smile beginning to twitch against his lips.

"You must be my niece, Lou." He takes a step towards her and Rosemary appears in the doorway behind her, quickly pushing Lou behind her.

Rosemary does not back down from Homelander's gaze. It wasn't in her nature. She was too much like Ben and like you for her own good.

"And there's sissy." His smile is triumphant as he glances back at you and Ben.

"I'm not your anything." Rosemary's eyes narrow at Homelander.

His frown vanishes again, this time replaced with a snarl. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous this is?" The playful cadence in his voice is gone. "He was gone for forty fucking years and you brought him back into your lives! So what about me?" He shouts so loud you're sure the house is shaking, gesturing at Ben angrily.

"It's different." Your voice is cold.

"How is it different?"

"Because Ben is human." Rosemary answers. "You're not."

You turn to look at her in shock. It was the first time that she'd defended him since he got back, the first time that she had said something remotely kind about Ben to you or in front of him. Ben looks just as stunned as you do.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about." Homelander takes another step towards Rosemary, but she doesn't back down. "I am human. More human than you. I see the world for what it really is. I don't follow the rest of the fucking sheep like you-"

"You've been poked, prodded, and told that you were a god every day of your life. Just because we have powers does not mean that we are gods. We bleed, we live, and we die. And maybe somewhere along the way we're lucky to be loved and to love." She snaps. "But you don't. You can't feel love or remorse. You're a fucking monster not a hero. You think you're a hero just because Vought has given you that title. You're nothing more than a little boy chasing after a family you never had and you never deserved. You're not my brother, you're not their son, you're not our family. You're just something that was cut out of my mother, another scar, another manipulation, another science experiment that went wrong, and another way that Vought has ruined her life."

Lou cowers behind her mother, holding tightly to her leg, while Rosemary's hand circles behind her daughter to hold her tighter against her. It was the same thing that Ben was doing to you. You felt genuine fear for the first time in years, fear that you would lose them because of this.

Because Homelander was unhinged, manic, and insane. He might have kept it all hidden under the blonde hair, blue eyes, and the smile, but you saw through it. You'd met supes like him before and you knew that you would meet others in the years to come.

"You got everything didn't you? A loving family? A mother who loved you? A home? You got to be in your child's life. You had everything I didn't have." His voice is eerily calm. "And for what? So you could work at a fucking hospital and degrade yourself, our bloodline, and the fucking power you have to be a slave to other people?!”

Rosemary freezes.

"That's right I know all about you. Know all about all of you. Know about that fucking freak Charlie they inserted into your life, know exactly how much Vought wants Lou. Vought has files upon files about each of you, everything you’ve done, your powers." His eyes flick to the little girl hiding behind her mom. "And yet I'm the disappointment." Homelander's eyes flash back to where Ben and you are standing, something murderous building behind them, before they focus back on Rosemary. "I should have had your life. I'm the one who deserves it! I'm the hero. I'm the one who's more powerful."

You knew that the situation was growing worse by the minute, but with Lou thrown in the mix you weren't sure how this was going to go. You didn’t want her in the line of fire, wished that she had stayed in bed upstairs.

"Mommy I'm scared." You hear Lou whisper as she clutches on to Rosemary tighter.

"Don't be scared Lou." Homelander smiles wide, so wide you can see all his teeth. "This will all be over soon."

The words chill you to the bone, but before you can react, Homelander flies at Rosemary knocking her back through the bathroom wall and away from Lou. Her body crashes through solid tile and bathroom mirror with a resounding crack that echoes through the bedroom.

And just as you leap forward to take him on, Homelander grabs Lou.

There were only a few moments in your life that you’d ever known genuine fear. The day you got the serum, the day that you took the bullet for Ben and you thought you were going to die, and the day that you went into labor. But this was different. Seeing Homelander holding on to Lou wiped away any of those other moments in your life.

Your entire body catches fire with anger and fear. "Put her down." Your voice is unrecognizable, hands clenched into fists. You felt your eyes shift back to a threatening purple, everything in the room trembling under your power, the wood paneling on the wall beginning to peel back and reveal the concrete underneath.

What kind of sick person uses a child as a shield?

Lou squirms in his arms, but Homelander just holds her tighter against him. "Why would I do that?"

"Because if you don't I'm going to-" Ben snarls taking a step towards him. Ben's body has already begun to glow, seeping out from his heart as the force of his anger grows with every passing second.

"You're going to what?" Homelander's smile is sinister. "Because it seems to me that you can't do anything to me without poor little Lou here taking the brunt of it."

Rosemary appears covered in plaster, dust, and with pieces of mirror in her dark hair that catch the light in a way that makes her hair sparkle. "Put her down you narcissistic asshole." She snarls, her eyes turning red.

You figured it was because he had touched her, but deep down you hoped that Rosemary still had apart of your power, so you didn’t have to worry about her dying.

Lou tries to reach for her mom, but Homelander holds her closer to him. Tears have begun to trickle down her little cheeks. "Mommy?” She sobs quietly.

"Shh. It's okay sweetie." Homelander purrs bouncing her in his arms. "I've got you."

"Please put her down." You say it calmly, but you can feel your heart jumping around in your chest, beating against your ribcage. You didn't know how to fix this and didn’t know how to appeal to him, not after you'd spent the past twenty minutes telling him that you wanted nothing to do with him and that he wasn't your son. “We can talk this out. She doesn’t have to be apart of this.”

"Sorry no can do. I’m kind of tired of talking to you and to him.” Homelander gestures to Ben with his free hand, who isn’t glowing anymore.   “You might not want me apart of your family, but I want Lou apart of mine."

"What?" You croak.

"I think she should meet her cousin. And I think that Ryan would do a lot better with another child in his life, especially one that's supposed to be so powerful." Homelander continues rocking Lou back and forth. "But don't worry. I'll make sure that she's taken care of. And I’ll make sure she reaches her full potential.”

His eyes lock on yours and the chill of his words set in.

“Wait what?” Rosemary says.

But you understand too late.

Homelander shoots upward through the ceiling with Lou screaming in his arms as pieces of rubble crash down into the bedroom Ben and you share.

"No!" You scream in horror and rage, and rise up off the ground, but before you can follow behind Homelander, Ben wraps his arms around your waist to hold you down against him, refusing to let you go alone to face Homelander. “Ben let me go I can-“ By now your voice is nothing more than a shrill scream, tears pouring from your eyes as you struggle against his iron grip. “Please let me go! I have to go after him-”

“You’re not going to face him alone!” Ben shouts back holding you tighter.

But he can’t stop Rosemary.

She flashes past you in pursuit, up through the hole in the ceiling that Homelander left behind, and leaving you to sob and beat your fists against Ben’s chest wishing that it had been you instead.

A/N: Alright I had to make the first part just a little bit spicy to feel better about the devastation at the end of this chapter.

And I know another cliffhanger, but I promise there is something coming after this and we are quickly reaching the end of this series. 😊

I also want to let everyone now that I have decided to end this series when we get there without any reach into season 4. I do have some very cute ideas for little fics between this reader and Ben following season 3.

However, I am going to write an alternate ending and when we get to season 5 of The Boys with Soldier Boy back in action, I am going to release it and write for season 5, I think. That’s the plan right now, but who knows? I've also got some great ideas for other series I might want to start eventually.

Also anyone getting Syndrome vibes or is it just me? It was not intentional 😂

As always thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist please let me know :)

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[chaoticbardlady99]

I Wondered If I Could Come Home? (Astarion x F! Reader)

Synopsis- It’s been 4 months since you last saw Astarion and 3 months since you killed the Netherbrain with your other companions. Shortly after, you settled down in Silverymoon to begin a life out there and try to push Astarion out of your mind- except it can never be that easy. You shortly discover you are pregnant with his child- a child that could kill you during childbirth. Scared and alone- Shadowheart stays with you to help you deliver the baby and keep you alive.

While out at the local market, Shadowheart runs into Gale and invites him over for dinner. Gale has unexpected company.

CW: Pregnancy, mentions of potential death during birth, mentions of nudity, mentions of NSFW smut

To my fellow DND fans- no this is probably not canon compliant, yes I’m upset about that, but look I really needed to write this so sue me I guess

Author note- Self indulgent, I have baby fever, but don’t want a baby fic. I’m unsure of how long this will be or if it will have more parts-it depends on how angsty I feel, but I need to have like six different ideas to think about at a time soooo 😂

*This hasn’t been edited ✨well✨so please forgive me

*again, no fucking clue who’s picture it is, but it sure as shit isn’t mine so if it’s yours- reach out so I can give credit!

You keep yourself propped up against the sink in the kitchen as Shadowheart holds your hair out of your face and dabbing away the cold sweat that drips down your neck.

You are really sick of being morning sick. It’s absolutely the worst thing in the world- well besides your potential death from carrying your little girl inside of you. You sometimes think Astarion may get his wish- you may just die screaming.

You dry heave one last time- not a single thing comes up because you haven’t kept a single thing down since two mornings ago. Your morning sickness is inconsistent and comes on with little to no warning.

It’s been five months since you conceived this fricken kid, but it was like all the symptoms hit after you killed the Netherbrain.

A part of you really wishes you had somehow known before then- maybe it would have changed the cruel fate that ended your relationship with Astarion. You were literally pregnant in the middle of fighting Cazador. You think about what he last said to you all the time and just sob hysterically- like it happened yesterday.

A deeper part of you feels abandoned, but you blame yourself for him leaving. You should have been more convincing or maybe you shouldn’t have flat out told him no and explained why in the hells you didn’t want him to ascend.

For example- you didn’t want to lose him to some evil version of himself.

Ironically, you lost him anyway and are pregnant with his fucking child who insists on occasionally making you miserable.

Despite your inherent sadness, anger, and sickness, you find you are actually quite excited to meet her. You haven’t settled on a name yet and Shadowheart has been very helpful in regards to making sure you are healthy and strong for delivery. She’s your best friend and you could not be more grateful for her.

“I’ll go back to the market today and get you more of those herbs,” Shadowheart says quietly when she talks to you, “they seemed to help last time?”

You nod- exhausted and your head is pounding. You and this kid are going to need to have a serious conversation. You will not be letting a second Acunin make you miserable before she is ever born.

Shadowheart guides you to your bed upstairs, standing behind you in case you get hit with a wave of vertigo- which usually happens post vomit episode.

You pull your curtains closed- thankful that the desperate hope in your heart led you to buying black out curtains. You close your door and lay down on your bed- tears spilling down your cheeks freely.

You miss him terribly. You shouldn’t. You should positively hate him, but everyday of this pregnancy makes you ache for him. You should be doing this together.

You know it’s hormones- the weepiness, the intense longing, and the Gods awful horniness. Dreams are the worst. You wake up a squirming disaster at least three times a week with your skin burning hot with memories of Astarion touching you.

You are happy that isn’t the case currently, but the weepiness sucks too. Remembering how he used to curl around you, the way it felt to have him kiss you on the forehead, and all those late night conversations with (now empty) promises. You curl yourself around your pillows, willing your imagination to pretend it’s him, and you sob until you fall asleep.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion tries to contain his excitement and fear as he follows Gale and Shadowheart to your home. Finally, after searching for literal months, he was going to see you again.

Astarion has been haunted by the last words he had said to you for what feels like eons now. He hadn’t meant it at the time and he certainly doesn’t mean it now.

He had been too afraid to come back to you after everything he had said. Astarion decided you probably hate him anyway so he tried to move on.

He tried being with other people (it always failed miserably because they weren’t you), he drank until he couldn’t remember a damn thing, and when all else failed, he began his search for the Ring of the Sunwalker.

After the nightlife of Baldur’s Gate lost it’s appeal and he finally found a ring location, Astarion found himself in front of Gale’s door in Waterdeep- begging him of all people to help him.

The wizard had been puzzled and melancholy when he realized Astarion was at his door. Astarion told him every little piece of how he feels about you, how much he misses you, and how he wants to be able to give you the life that you deserve. Astarion was practically on the verge of hysteria while trying to make his case.

Thus began the search for the Ring of the Sunwalker.

They were able to locate and obtain one after a grueling three month long journey and some help from one of Gale’s old friends. Then, they headed straight to Silverymoon- your last known whereabouts.

Running into Shadowheart had felt like a miracle, but to also have her living with you had made the trip even easier. Except Shadowheart was being really really weird towards him.

When Gale first asked if Astarion could come along too, Shadowheart had asked Astarion why he wanted to come and see the person he “hoped died screaming?”

Astarion had flinched at the anger and venom in Shadowheart’s voice. He figured the others would be mad, but he was hoping maybe Shadowheart would give him a little easier time like Gale had. Astarion was genuinely surprised by how quick she was to be defensive of you and your whereabouts. When Gale confirmed that Astarion was telling the truth, Shadowheart reluctantly said he could come.

The three arrive at the front of your shared townhome- it faces the beach and has the perfect amount of windows for the sun to light up the house, but one of the rooms is hidden from sight with heavy, black out curtains.

Shadowheart turns to both of them, “Tav might not be able to join us… she’s been sick for a bit now and is… recuperating.”

Astarion feels his heart drop to his stomach.

“Sick? For how long?”

Shadowheart shifts on her feet uncomfortably, “5 months, but it got worse around 3 months.”

“Tav has been sick for that long?” Gale exclaims, “why didn’t you write!? I could have helped.”

“This particular affliction is one you wouldn’t understand,” Shadowheart says with a finality that suggests the conversation is done as she leads them into the kitchen.

Shadowheart immediately gets fussing with the herbs while Gale looks around the house. Astarion is still unsure of what he should be doing. The house engulfs him in your scent and he feels positively intoxicated. You must be really sick though because your scent smells different- not bad at all, just different.

Does he talk to Shadowheart? Does he look around with Gale?

Or does he sneak off and find you? Astarion doesn’t want to waste anymore time than he already has. Slowly, he creeps towards the stairs.

“Don’t even think about it, Astarion,” Shadowheart warns.

Astarion looks at her and then back at the stairs. He does this a couple times until Shadowheart appears to be annoyed enough that she’s let her guard down a bit.

Astarion takes off up the steps and he hears Shadowheart and Gale coming up right behind him.

Astarion hears a dry heave from down the hallway and he goes racing for the door.

If you are as sick as Shadowheart has suggested (5 months is crazy long), Astarion may not have much time with you and Gods he needs to take advantage of the time he does have.

Shadowheart be damned.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You wake up feeling even worse than you did when you fell asleep. Your headache feels like it’s taken on a life on it’s own and Gods you are going to vomit all over the floor if you don’t move NOW!

You get up with an impossible amount of speed for how dizzy you are and you grab the pail on your nightstand and heave painfully.

You are rocking back and forth, groaning as more stomach acid comes up because again, not able to even keep anything down.

You hear a pair of footsteps and then Shadowheart screaming after-

“ASTARION! THEY ARE SICK! YOU NEED TO WAIT!”

“I have been looking for them for months now,” you hear him hiss, “if they are sick, I need to see them. If this has lasted five months- then who knows how much time I’ve wasted!”

“Will you stop being selfish for five minutes!? It’s not about you and who even says she wants to see you!?”

Shadowheart and Astarion are yelling in front of your door now. You feel tears prick your eyes- Astarion is here. Here here. A flurry of excited kicks from inside you catches your attention and a feeling of blissful happiness comes over you. Oh look, the nausea is gone. Of course it is.

“Traitor,” you whisper before laying down on your bed for a moment.

You are very happy that your unborn daughter appears to be pleased and feels good about her dad being on the other side of the door. You, on the other hand, are less than optimistic.

Wasted time doing what? And why did Shadowheart say I was sick!? In what world was that going to keep him from going upstairs!? Especially if he, your mind pauses, cares about me? Again?

Which you hope he does- you would hope Shadowheart wasn’t so sick of taking care of you that she brought him here to finish the job. Maybe this is all one big show.

Another, “I WILL DO WHAT I PLEASE” from Astarion, a “YOU SELFISH BASTARD” from Shadowheart, and a “Please can’t we all just be nice, catch up, and get along?” from Gale finally gives you the motivation to get up. The arguing feels far too much like being in camp again. You pinch the bridge of your nose, willing the growing headache to go away.

It doesn’t so you change into a pair of longer cotton pajama pants, a t-shirt that is unfortunately showing off your bump more than you’d like, and then you swing open the door in tired annoyance.

You are met with Astarion looking at you- his eyes scanning up and down your body- settling on your stomach. His expression is unreadable- it’s somewhere between lust, love, grief, and heartbreak. Embarrassed by Astarion’s intense gaze, you look over at Gale who is all smiles for you.

“Congratulations Tav!!!” Gale practically yells, making you wince, “the father is a lucky man.”

“I don’t think he considers himself a lucky man,” you say pointedly before turning to Astarion, “or do you?”

Astarion’s face changes entirely with your words. His eyes look at you, round and soft. His eyes are full of adoration and need- a look you never thought he would give you again. You have to fight the urge to grab him and drag him into your bedroom. You will not let the hormones win- you will be strong.

“I- it’s- I mean,” Astarion is fumbling over his words, “you are carrying my child?”

“Yes,” you say grumpily, crossing your arms,” and she’s been giving me nothing but trouble. Thanks to your genetics, I’m sure. This is day two of not being able to keep a damn thing down and this fucking headache is UNBEARABLE so please for the love of every God keep the arguing down.”

Astarion is still looking at you with a mystified expression- taking you in as if for the first time in his entire life. You look back towards Gale and Shadowheart- you are entirely too self-conscious and way too excited to see him for him to be looking at you like that. You are trying to be mad dammit!

Shadowheart gazes at you and your surely red tipped ears with amusement before she says, “I’ll go and get the potion ready for you- that should hopefully help.”

“I will- uh,” Gale says awkwardly, looking between you and Astarion, “join you! I might need to know which herbs to use… in the future?”

“Planning on getting pregnant Gale?” You say with a smirk.

Gale snorts at you, “Dear friend, as wonderful as you look right now- none of the side effects sound appealing.”

“Oh they most certainly aren’t,” you say,” but thanks for thinking I look ‘wonderful’. I feel, well, disgusting.”

“Gods, how could you even think that?” Astarion blurts out, appearing shocked that he even said it, “you look like…. A vision. A wonderful, stunning vision, Darling.”

Shadowheart and Gale excuse themselves as you struggle to find the words for Astarion’s comment. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire and you feel yourself begin to melt a little bit. You feel your emotions bloom into something resembling spring as he steps closer to you- looking at you with pleading eyes.

You clear your throat, “would you like to come into my room and talk?”

Astarion nods eagerly, following behind you so close that you once again have to remind yourself that ripping off the clothes of someone who literally told you they wanted you to die screaming was not healthy- at least not until you get a proper apology.

You sit against your headboard as Astarion walks around your room- running his fingers along the bassinet and rocking chair in the corner. You still can’t get a read on him.

“A girl?”

His question breaks the air.

“Yes,” you smile at him, “no name yet though.”

“I’m sure you’ll pick a nice one,” he says with a smile, but his tone is entirely too melancholic.

A painful thump in your heart fills your body with sadness. He doesn’t want to be involved. Of course he doesn’t want to be involved. You are his knocked up ex-girlfriend. What were you expecting? The lump forming in your throat is unbearable.

“You don’t want to be involved?”

Oh good Gods you are crying. Astarion rushes over to you the minute your tears begin to fall- sitting in front of you on the bed. He reaches out and gently wipes your tears away as he speaks.

“I want to be involved so badly it hurts,” his voice comes out scratchy and emotional, “but that is your decision, not mine. You have been on your own for months, my Love. Instead of trying to come back and make it better- I pushed it off until I thought I could give you what you deserved- a life in the sun.”

You almost whine in protest when his hands leave your face. He twists the ring around his index finger before continuing, avoiding your gaze, “But maybe I was wrong. Maybe what you deserve is a person that isn’t so damaged. Someone who can give you what you actually deserve which is a loving partner who hasn’t hurt you over and over again- a man worthy of being a father to ou- I mean your child.”

His confession and the tears that are streaming down his face are enough for you. Yes, you absolutely want to scream and yell at him, but you also ache for him. You can’t fault the man for being a slave for 200 years and then not taking it very well when you told him what to do. You always knew you would forgive him if he came back- you never thought he would, but here he is and like he said- there is no reason to keep wasting time.

“She is our child, Star,” you whisper and guide his eyes to look at you, “I want you to be involved. I don’t care what you think I deserve either. I have missed you so horribly since you left. It’s almost pathetic really. I’ve tried to blame it on the hormones, but… I don’t know. The picture has felt incomplete up until now.”

You absentmindedly put your hand on your stomach- receiving a kick. You glare at the place where your hand is resting.

“Will you stop kicking me for five minutes!?” You scream, “I WAS IN THIS BODY FIRST!”

Astarion looks at you bewildered and confused, but quickly realizes you aren’t talking about him. The smile that spreads across his face is wide and Astarion gingerly moves closer. You are still a little cautious- needing to protect not only yourself, but also your unborn child. He moves to the right of you and goes to move you just slightly so he can slip in behind you.

“Could I? I mean if it’s not crossing any boundaries!”

Astarion is on edge- you can tell that much, but he doesn’t look at you like he did that last time you saw him- Astarion is looking at you like you are the most precious individual who has ever walked this earth.

You nod shyly, and then Astarion slots himself behind you, your back against his chest, his face in the crook of your neck, and his legs on either side of yours. He cautiously puts his hands on your stomach and is immediately kicked.

Astarion laughs with joy, “she’s strong!”

“Strong willed and strong physically,” you shake your head and you are laughing a bit now too, “you may just get your wish yet.”

“What wish?”

It had slipped. You hadn’t meant to bring it up again- or maybe you did. You want to know for sure if he still feels that way, but the confusion in his voice says he doesn’t. You go rigid and go to dismiss it when you feel his posture change behind you, his grip loosening ever so slightly.

“Right… that.”

The silence is nerve-wracking. You’ve lost him again, you are sure of it. A stray tear begins to roll down your cheek.

“Astarion-“

“No, let me think, Darling. I want to make sure I say everything I want to say correctly.”

You continue to sit there in silence, he places soft kisses on your neck. You feel him smile against your skin at the needy moan that escapes your lips. You absentmindedly reach out for one of his hands and begin to play with his fingers while he thinks. Astarion used to let you do this all the time while you were traveling- it helps you feel grounded.

“I was so consumed by all that power in the moment,” he says slowly, “I wasn’t thinking. By the time I had realized what I had done, I felt like it was already too late- you most likely hated me and moved on.”

You have to bite your tongue- you want to scream. Hate him? Never. You had been miserable without him around for that last month of traveling. Your heart had felt like a dead weight in your chest and you had been moving around like a zombie.

“So I tried to move on… I even tried to be with others, but I just couldn’t do it. It’s selfish, but I want you. I never want anything bad to happen to you- I certainly don’t ever want you to die screaming. I don’t want you to ever carry a child that is not mine.”

You are surprised by the warmth in your core when he says his last sentence. There is something so primal there that you have to really focus on what he is saying next.

Astarion clears his throat before finishing speaking, “I don’t want to be without you anymore- four months is too long. I don’t want to miss out on anymore of your pregnancy and I want to be here for you- with you- doing this together like we should have been doing this whole time. I was a horrible fool- please give me another chance. Please, Darling. I love you- so so much more than I ever thought anyone could ever love someone.”

Astarion’s words hang in the air and you are trying not to begin crying for the 15th billion time. This is what you had wanted to hear all along. You can feel his tears on the collar of your shirt- the way he inhales as if to memorize your scent like this is the last time. Astarion is not expecting you to say yes- you know that because he’s starting to loosen up, pulling away from you so that he can respect your decision.

“I love you too,” you whisper, “I don’t want to be without you anymore either. I forgive you- please stay.”

“I won’t be going anywhere unless you want me too, my Love.”

[sitp-recs]

top 10 drarry fics by the sheer force of the feels they gave you? not necessarily good feels! things you remember primarily because they hit hard in some way.

obviously, i'd also love to hear exactly how/why they hit hard if you're up for sharing that!

Oh that’s such a wonderful ask, thank you! I’m sorry for the late reply, the 10 fics came easily bc whenever I see those titles I get immediately transported back to where I was and what I felt reading them for the first time. But putting into words what exactly makes them heartkick-y for me was a bit more challengeging. It’s usually a “when you feel it you know it” kind of thing (and quite literally too, as sometimes it manifests as an actual physical reaction!) but more often than not the fic just clicks for me and there’s no rationale behind it. As Clarice Lispector said: “I suppose that understanding myself is not a question of intelligence but of feeling. It either touches you, or it doesn't."

Anyhoo, I tried my best to keep this short and sweet but since I’ve written individual recs for almost all these fics, I thought I’d include them too :) thanks again, this was super fun! And I’d love to read about your picks as well 👀

An Emerald In The Sky by corvuscrowned | my rec

it doesn’t get more romantic than star-crossed lovers doomed by time travel!!!! (see also: my thoughts on The Eighth Tale by lettered). this is my brand of melancholy, something about the constant yearning, the beauty of stolen moments in liminal space, the unfairness of it all… ugh

Far From the Tree by aideomai | my rec

fft has altered my brain chemistry and ruined me forever with its tender devastation, I had such a visceral reaction to it - to the point of feeling dizzy and feverish. a simple time travel concept (this is my kryptonite istg) but the epic storytelling! the gratification! the bittersweet ending! rereading it would kill me but what a way to go

Forgive Those Who Trespass by Lomonaaeren

easily one of the most haunting and terrifying fics I’ve ever read, one jumpscare after the other but so creative and well-written I was too busy collecting my jaw from the floor to talk myself out of it lol

Little Compton Street by writcraft | my rec

as a queer woman, this one feels extremely personal and is very dear to my heart. I’ll never forget the emotions I felt learning about queer history and finding a sense of peace and belonging. lcs feels like coming home 🏳️‍🌈

Little Red Courgette by blamebrampton

this was my first bb fic and their sense of humor just blew my mind. I was so impressed by the smooth world building, by their wit and clever political commentary. I just couldn’t stop laughing. the dialogue is so good it makes me wanna weep, I can’t explain how much joy and comfort this fic gave me

Merlin Works in Mysterious Ways by lordhellebore

full disclosure: my reading experience was shaped by the fact that I didn’t realize the tagged disability would be major and permanent 🤡 by the time I noticed I was so emotionally invested I couldn’t stop. one of the most painful reads I’ve ever endured, worth it tho

Running on Air by eleventy7 | my rec

introspective fics are my jam and this one was just what I needed while working through some shit at a turning point in my life. so I guess it was more about finding the right fic at the right time, and I’m hit by mixed feelings of catharsis and nostalgia every time I revisit roa.

Still Life (orphaned) | my rec

my definition of a perfect shortfic. gorgeous prose, flawless execution, the “nothing is happening but everything is changing” vibes I live for, one of the best Harry pov I’ve ever read and an ending that always makes me gasp in awe. few authors can write complex emotions so effortlessly as seefin, absolute masterclass

Super Rich Kids by trishjames | my rec

criminally underrated, this story broke my heart but also gave me such a THRILL. I usually avoid substance abuse in fic but something about Draco’s spiral journey felt so raw it kept me at the edge of my seat. devastating but also a surprisingly funny and exciting thriller. the range!!!

The Long Fall by tackytiger | my rec

as someone who’s never been into kid fic and family dynamics, this was a punch on the solar plexus and rearranged my whole view about this trope. I was deeply moved by Harry’s longing for a family of his own and despite not having or wanting kids, this still felt really cathartic and changed me in a way I can’t quite explain.

[mimimui]

comma after dearest (genshin impact)

wherein (character) reacts a certain way to a grammar mistake you made in your letter (or was it?)

includes: kazuha, ayato, thoma, xiao, zhongli, alhaitham, kaveh, scaramouche

tags: a bit unserious writing, fluff, i am obssessed with "it changed the meaning, did you intend this?" forgive me, not proofread

a/n: not sure if anyone's done this before, but take it as my apology for not having written in a while (╥﹏╥) my fever + colds are killing me & i have a lot of scheduled things to do for school aaaa. maybe i can write this with other fandoms as well ? (and character x character ships hehe) .. enjoy !

kazuha notices it immediately. aside from all the work with the fleet, he spends time reading—or rereading—your letters. written messages aren't uncommon when he's at sea, but this letter was different. had you made a mistake with your punctuation? no, it can't be, you've always opened your letters with "my dearest kazuha".

he blinked at the words, now seeing a comma between the word 'dearest' and his name. as much as he was confused, he was flustered. if this wasn't a mistake, and that you intentionally called him your dearest, then it's a shame you can't see how absolutely smitten he is for you right now.

ayato is busy going through papers and folders when he sees an envelope slide under his door. he chuckles as he reads his name in your writing, carefully picking it up and opening it. you have a habit of writing him letters and sliding it under his door while he works, which ayato finds very endearing.

when he reads "my dearest, ayato", his smile only widens more, finding new motivation to finish his assignments for the day so he can get to you as soon as possible. he knows how much effort you put into writing these short, yet loving, letters when he places this one on his (already full of other letters) pinboard.

thoma takes a while to realize, but when he finally notices it, his heart rate increases by a concerning amount. he loves you so much to the point that when he reads "my dearest, thoma", there's hearts in his eyes. thoma's so much happier after reading your letter, and now he's doing everything smiling.

ayaka told him he looks brighter than usual today, and ayato even asked him if he received good news. of course, he was shy about this, but he told the kamisato siblings it was nothing to worry about. though, he continues to do his work with a little bounce in step.

xiao denies it. he thinks he's read it wrong at first, but when he looks over at it again, it is confirmed that you did write him as your dearest. forgetting about the rest of the contents of the letter, xiao began to contemplate. an error like that was unlikely, especially since you're fond of writing.

the next time you meet, he has a hard time trying to bring up the topic. he knows you meant what you wrote, but he wants you to confirm it. when you tell him, "yes, i mean it." he tries to hold back a smile. keyword: tries.

zhongli adores the salutation. or rather, he adores you. he appreciates the sweet, small detail you added in. zhongli hurriedly, yet carefully, writes you a letter back, addressing you as "my dearest, (y/n)" and replying to the contents you had in yours.

he never really indulged in using endearments, but ever since your letter, he's only even been calling you his 'dearest'. when greeting you, when asking for your attention, when talking about you, whenever. zhongli's never said it outloud, but you know he absolutely loves that nickname now.

alhaitham is amused. he thinks you genuinely made a mistake in your letter, but doesn't address it until he returns to sumeru. when you see him again, he brings it up, expecting to be able to playfully taunt you about it. but he was so wrong.

"but you're my dearest. how is that wrong grammar?" you say, turning the situation around and teasing him instead. alhaitham wanted to tease you so much that he didn't bother to think of other possibilities. he's defeated, and all he can say is, "...i have no reply."

kaveh doesn't know how to react to it. should he be flustered, or correcting you for the mistake? was it even a mistake? he does write you a letter back, but best believe he immediately asks you about it as soon as he comes back home. "did you intend this?" he says, showing you your letter.

when you nod your head, all the shyness and blush that should've came in before came in now. kaveh uses the folded letter to cover his smile, but it's too wide and too bright to even try to. when you tease him about it, he strongly denies having his heart race from it.

scaramouche chooses to ignore it. he knows you wrote that punctuation on purpose, but he doesn't want show that he's thinking about it. this ultimately failed when he doesn't write you back, and you knew something was up with him. once he returns and he acts indifferent, you bring it up.

his eyes widen as he looks away, realizing he forgot to reply to that letter. scaramouche hesitates before quietly apologizing, mumbling something about 'my dearest' and 'running out of paper'.

thanks for reading (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[mcuamerica]

Stranded | Part Four

Featuring : Azriel x Fem!Reader, Eris x Reader (platonic), Rhys x Sister!Reader

Summary: A certain male visits you in Autumn to do some grovelling. Requested by @sidthedollface2 here.

Warnings: 18+ only, kind of short, not proofread (i'll do it later), let me know if anything was forgotten...

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

Dividers from @saradika

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Azriel was standing on the other side of the door. He shifted on it feet, something you'd never seen him do before. "Thank god you're still here." He said, looking at your with wide, tear filled eyes. "I have been absolutely horrible to you." He said.

You stood there, arms crossed. "You have." You said simply, looking at him. You weren't going to give him an inch.

"I'm sorry for paying attention to Elain all this time. I figured she needed help. But- I need to be here for you." He said.

"You weren't here for me for 50 years."

"For Cauldron's sake, (Y/N). It was a mistake! I've apologized, I've done everything I could have thought of to fix it. How was I supposed to know you were going to be locked out?"

"You left me!" You yelled, tears welling in your eyes. "How can I be sure you won't do it again?" You asked, your voice getting quieter.

"Because I will never leave you again. I will do everything in my power to stay with you. To prove to you that I will be by your side when you need me. Or when you don't. I will always be with you." He said, reaching out his hands for you.

You took one of them in yours, searching his eyes. Tears fell down his cheeks just as they did yours. You looked down and traced the scars on his hands. How could you be mad at him when what he did wasn't on purpose? How could you be mad when your mate had been doing everything he could to win you back. To earn your trust. Even when he was helping Elain, it was really to help Feyre. Elain felt comfortable around Azriel, probably because he was so quiet. And Feyre was your High Lady. Of course he would do anything to help her.

"(Y/N)... Please give me a chance. Give us a chance." He said. You searched his eyes again, finding only sincerity and a hint of blooming love.

"Okay." You said, taking a deep breath. "I will give us a chance.. Only if you promise to never leave me again. Not without telling me." You said.

"I will make a bargain with you, if that is what it takes." He said truthfully.

You shook your head, not needing a bargain to trust Azriel. You had known him for centuries. You grew up learning how to fight from him, when your father and your brother didn't want to teach you. He was the first person you cried to after Tamlin's brothers kidnapped you and killed your mother right in front of you. He made one mistake. And you could forgive him for it. Would it take time to trust him fully again? Of course. But that didn't mean you had to reject the bond. Not without trying first.

Azriel, the male that helped you through so much through your life. The male that meant everything to you, even when you were mad at him. Maybe it was the bond, or maybe it was something deeper. Maybe it was love.

Only time would tell, but for the first time in your life, you were sure of something. You could make this relationship with Azriel work. And you could have a very happy life with him, one day. Maybe soon. Maybe in a hundred years.

Whatever happened, you knew you would have Azriel by your side. The male staring down at you, grasping your hands so tight you felt as if they were going to fall off.

"Azriel..." You reached up and cupped his cheek. "Let's go home."

A/N: Okay so I know a lot of y'all wanted her to end up with Eris, but I originally planned it to be Az she ended up with... THAT BEING SAID... I'm writing an alt ending to (hopefully) be posted tomorrow night.. I just can't do my love-lorn Az dirty like that....

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[descendantsramblings]

Just a short cute thing where Fem! Reader and Maleficent are dating and Mal just loves teasing her gf by turning into her dragon form in small

Pure fluff, thank u :>

“Short cute” is speaking my language rn. So glad to be back to writing long stuff but between these and writing a layout for a Dead Boy Detectives fic I needed a good head canon or Drabble 🖤

Also I wrote and edited this whole thing while on the clock at work so forgive me if something is a little odd, I HATE typing on mobile because it’s easier to get typos.

Play

Maleficent x Reader

Pronouns used: she/her/hers

Summary: watching her girlfriend study can get just so boring

Warnings: descriptions of Maleficent turning into a dragon but it’s really nothing (at least as a horror and body horror fan it’s absolutely nothing but I’ll warn you just in case), fluff

Word Count: 1.1K

Pic because finding gifs of my girl (who’s almost always background or literally on Hades lol) is so hard

She can’t say no one warned her. Of course, Maleficent thought her girlfriend hung the sun, she was humanities own light source. All aglow when she was excited and warm enough that the dark fae was constantly convinced she had a fever. She was obsessed with her, but that doesn’t mean the rest of her friends lied when they said dating a hero kid could get so boring. Not that (Y/n) in general was boring, it was actually pretty easy to get her running around with the villains, but when she felt like being good? She could get obnoxiously good. Like straight As helping out in soup kitchens type of good. Which if the pixie was honest, she found that side of her girlfriend extremely endearing. Sometimes she even wonders if that sweet half of her is what saw Maleficent as worthy for her. Not that she’d ever admit to that out loud, it would wreck her image. If the fact that she could watch the girl complete mundane tasks in complete infatuation didn’t already kill her image. Or at least she normally could watch her like that.

The girl had been studying for an hour, rewriting her notes in a decorative and color coded way that she swore made it easier for her to study. “Rewriting it makes me think about it harder, Mali. Engraves it into my memory.” It sounded like an excuse to her, seemed to her that the girl just liked to look at pretty things. Not that she minded, whatever she wanted to do was fine by her, (Y/n) was her own woman. And Maleficent loved to be the pretty thing she was looking at, so who was she to complain about other ones? But Mali was starting to wonder if she and Tinkerbell had something in common. If she didn’t get her girlfriend’s attention soon she was sure she’d just fall over and just die. She was growing weaker by the second, she was positive of that. And getting the girl’s attention away from swirling pretty calligraphy into a notebook was proving to be impossible.

Every nuzzle to her neck was met with a playful push. Kissing her face just earned the pixie a “Mali, doll, I’m working.” It was infuriating. Why let her in if (Y/n) only planned on ignoring her? Her pale arms make their way around the princess’ waist, face falling against the girl’s back with a dramatic sigh. “I’m almost done, Doll. Just two more pages.” Two more? That won’t do, she needs more attention now. “Come on,” she drags the word out pulling away from her girlfriend with a whine. “Since when are you so good?” “I’ve always been good, Doll. You’re the villain between us, remember?” She uncaps a different pen, readjusting the notebook before her. “You don’t seem so good when you’re out running around with me and the other VKs. You ask how high when Uliana says just just like Morgie does.” It gets her a hum, pen tapping against the page in the speedy pattern. “Yeah well, if I make Uli happy she’ll do my hair. No one else here can braid like she can.” Mali laughs, “Fine, then if we can’t cuddle, let’s go see if she’ll do your hair. Give me something.” “I’ll be done soon.” She scoffs, lightly smacking the back of the girl’s shoulder, “You said you were doing homework.” (Y/n)’s eyes roll, sparing the girl a look over her shoulder, “Studying is homework, Mali.” Now her eyes roll, throwing herself back on the bed, “This isn’t studying. Studying is reading over notes, this is some other thing.” She hums, “Maybe that’s why my grades are higher than yours.” It’s a playful remark, the girl poking her tongue out at the pixie before turning back to her work.

She wants to play? Okay, they can play. She cuts a look to the girl, a pen cap held loosely in her mouth as she delicately drags a pen brush across a page. She was distracted enough. Turning into a large dragon took far too much energy from her, but a small one? One that could fit right in the girl’s lap? That was easy. Maleficent could barely feel it as her bones gave way. Shoulder blades and vertebrae stretching out to form the structure of wings. Purple scales forcing their way through pale skin, tearing their way into veins to beseen. She hasn’t let wings of any kind come out in so long, it felt heavenly. The stretch making her suppress a whimper. She desperately needed to do this more, instead of just when she felt the need to harass her way into getting what she wants.

Slowly, careful not to make too much noise, she flaps her wings, once, twice. By the third time, when she realized the sound wasn’t alerting (Y/n), she knew she could take flight. Fluttering through the dorm, she lands on the girl’s dresser, blowing a small puff of flames onto a candle then settling beside it. Waiting, glowing green eyes trained on the girl who had playfully become her prey. The smell of smoke would alert her, it always did. Lilac and smoke slowly and softly fill the air, making the princess look up, worried eyes glancing around the room before landing on her dresser. “Really? You’re that desperate for me?” Desperate? No, she was anything but that. While her eyes are away from the page, Maleficent takes flight again, swooping up the pens the girl was using before fluttering over her head.

“Mali, you’re just prolonging how long it will be before I can lay back and cuddle with you. You know that, right?” Her hand shoots up for her pens and the dragon flies closer to the ceiling. “This is ridiculous, you are being ridiculous.” Pens clatter into the wastebasket by the girl’s desk, the dragon swooping in to fill the girl’s lap before she can get up to retrieve them. “Are all fae this needy or just you?” The question is met with a nuzzle against her stomach, the dragon refusing to get too close to her skin in case she’d scratch the delicate stretch of flesh.

Sighing, the girl closes her two notebooks, pushing them to the side before she lays back. “If I take a little study break will you let me finish my work without whining?” The dragon crawls up her stomach, tilting her head to the side. Sweeten the deal. “If we cuddle?” Letting out a sigh, Mali curls up on the girl’s chest, her head laying just so close to her heart she feels as if she’s hearing the lubb-Dubb of it in her own head. “You’re not gonna turn back into a girl for me? Made you wait so long that I only deserve scales?” It’s not a complaint, not a real one at least. Her nails digging into the space between two wings, a glorious scratching sensation that makes Maleficent’s eyes lull closed. She was never above playing if the Royal wanted to play. She was always the winner of the girl’s long games.

[waterkittywriting]

Arguing with Mori

Warnings: Mori in general, hitting, he's a lil possessive yk, age gap (reader is 18/19, Mori is 40), he's a bitch, not proofread, kinda unhealthy relationship

Characters: Mori Ougai

A/N: this is the only thing I can bring myself to write bc I've been obsessed with Mori recently. Sue me. This is heavily inspired by a scene in Lolita 1997 because that movie is fucking relatable and it's all I can think about recently.

"Alright, that's it."

The car screeched noisily as Mori pulled over, thankful for the relatively empty roads making it an easy task. You two had been fighting over something stupid - but you made it just a little too serious with that last comment.

"You want to disrespect me in my own car? Then get out. You can walk home yourself. I don't care." He hissed.

It was pouring out, and there was even some thunder. It was about 3 miles till you got home, not too long in the car but to walk? It would be terrible. "Are you fucking kidding me?" You scoff, staring at him with disbelief in your eyes. "It's 9pm, pouring rain, and you're gonna make a teenage girl walk home alone? Are you trying to get me killed you dickhead?!"

"I'm not making you do anything. All I want is a simple apology and we can drive home normally, and pretend this didn't happen." He leans back in the driver's seat, taking his hands off the steering wheel.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" You screamed. "Like actually, what is wrong with you?! You say you love me then all you wanna do is fuck! And when we have a normal argument, like a normal couple, you lose your shit and do things like this!" You were going to continue, but you were cut off by the most menacing look you'd ever seen him direct at you. You'd seen that face before, of course, directed at nosy subordinates or people who were doing him wrong, but never at you. Never at you.

You stop talking and move to unbuckle your seatbelt, ready to leave the car, but Mori stops you by wrapping a single hand around both your wrists, pulling them towards him before you could even unbuckle. "I thought you wanted me to leave." You snarled.

"Quite the contrary, dear. I would love for you to stay, but if you're going to keep acting like a little brat I might just shove you out of the car myself." He says smoothly, his voice dripping with condescension.

"Oh, so now you're holding me captive? You're a kidnapper and a creep? I mean seriously, what forty year old man dates-" you're cut off by a harsh slap on your cheek and a stinging sensation as he lets go of your wrists and sighs heavily, resting his elbow on the center console and his forehead in the palm of his hand. "God, you make it so difficult to love you sometimes."

You can't help it. Your lip starts to quiver and you start wailing as you turn around and shove the car door open, pushing yourself out of the car and onto the sidewalk. You begin to run away, you're not sure where you're going but you need to get away. Away from him. You're followed by the sounds of him calling your name and the door of his car opening and closing.

You don't look behind you but you know he's running after you, you can hear his footsteps and the heavy breathing until he finally catches up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against him from behind. By now you're both absolutely soaked in rain water, your clothes sticking to your skin and against his as he holds you there.

You turn around so you can sob into his chest, choking and coughing out apologies into his wet jacket. Eventually he leads you back to the car, opening your door for you and buckling your seatbelt.

Once you're both buckled and in the car you're silent. Neither of you can bring yourselves to say anything. You know he's not going to apologize for hitting you no matter how guilty he may or may not feel. He never apologizes, he just brings you designer purses and beautiful makeup the next day and it's enough to get you to forgive him. It always is.

[lutethebodies]

The Misunderstood Blunt Instrument

Two Minthara posts from yesterday (this one about the glorious new wallpapers and this one about her weapons and armor) got me thinking about The Mace as her weapon of choice. If I recall correctly the fandom has touched on bits of it already, so I won't go too long on this (and forgive me if it's been mentioned already), but other than the two cited above my brief searches haven't yielded anything new. And what I got thinking about was how ditching the maces upon recruitment is almost essential.

Personally I never retain them as her melee weapons, for both mechanical and RP reasons. For the first it's because I routinely respec her to a Dex-based build and of course maces are Str-based. The second reason is because (and forgive me if I’m late to the party here) that as a paladin she’s a blunt instrument for whatever deity she’s sworn to: Lolth, the Absolute, etc. And once she’s free of both, she’s free to choose how to defend herself and/or her friends/lovers among the companions.

As noted here, the mace itself may be two fun call-backs in one—both to her EA version as a cleric and, as dual-wielded by an exile, to Drizzt's "draa velve" fighting style (and I'll take their word for it because I may be the only over-40 D&D fan who hasn't read Salvatore's books). But representing this with maces feels specifically like a reductive and more brutish or ugly choice—and the perfect encapsulation for what she's become while enthralled.

The Absolute (and/or the three Chosen) has sanded down all the complexities of Minthara's character into the "mad dog" epithet Ketheric dumps on her during her trial. I'd add (based on much better arguments by much smarter fans) that for the casual BG3 player this is all she is and all she'll ever be, especially (as she notes after Orin's death) that if Tav/Durge had killed her, that would indeed be her fate.

The mace is also a symbol of Minthara's pre-tadpoled hubris of privilege, arrogance, and elitism in that it's the deadweight of how her life up to that point had sculpted her to precisely this outcome. A symbol of her trauma. "How the mighty have fallen" is a cliché, sure, but it's a cliché precisely because it's true and happens so often. The schadenfreude that fellow envious Lolth-sworn might feel when encountering this manic, raving caricature of their own culture! The shock that anyone who knew her from her previous life might feel about how she's changed for the worse! She says as much when candidly later admitting that pride is one of her sins.

The mace is a great choice for an enthralled Minthara, but that makes it (for me) necessary to abandon when she's a companion. The mace helps further that convenient, simplistic, reactive, and reductive way of writing her off as just another male-hating Drow dominatrix. It helps any player confirm lazy priors about her, which might be why she's both blithely dismissed by some and jealously policed by others.

So that's why I always ditch those weapons and re-arm her with Phalar Aluve. It may be just as reductive, but I think it fits, because 1) it's a fab finesse weapon for Dex-based builds, 2) fuck you Lolth, this is a weapon of Eilistraee and Minthara will wield it at you if you come for her and anyone she loves, and 3) fuck you Absolute, she is not your blunt instrument anymore, and she will smite you with something entirely different and with extreme prejudice.

[katerinaaqu]

Hello!!

Since I've seen that you've listened to both Epic and Paris the musical, I was curious to know what are your toughts on them! Did you like how the myths and characters where handled? What do you like best and worst? (If you'd like to share, what's your favourite song/moment in each?)

Thanks :]

My my you really wanna get me have an even bigger target on my back than the one I put already! Hahaha! Ok so be it! Hahaha If this gets waaaaaay too long or too runty forgive me! ^_^

You have noticed from many of my comments and my notifications, memes or jokes. I am not a fan of EPIC. Not at all. I believe I am one of the most disliked people on Tumblr on mythology matters because I so openly speak my dislike against EPIC and being annoying about it! Hahaha! XD The thing I absolutely love about it is of course the guy's passion with the project, the way the music works and all (undoubtedly the guy is a very talented composer and can combine the scene with music and emotions and the tricks he uses with music are great) but the way the plot of Odyssey was twisted beyond recognition and to the point that to me you can literally change the names of the characters to anything else and still have the story he presents with the Musical. Maybe that was his goal but in my head that is not what a retelling or an adaptation is about. A retelling to me is not something that seeks to change literally as much as possible from the plot to fit the modern standards or the fanbase. A retelling is something as the word says that "retells the story" aka adapts the story as loyally as possible and adapts it to the audinece by taking creative liberties that are still generic to the story as it was originally told so that it will fit more to the modern standards or ear.

I believe we have so much twisted the word "retelling" that nowadays "retelling" seems to be equivalent to "let's change the hell out of the story because the original plot is not even THAT important to be salvaged and no modern person would watch it anyways" which in my opinion is not the case at all. Unless of course one writes satire. Then it doesn't matter, as I mentioned to another ask of mine.

I lost interest and was massively disappointed from the end of second saga and the song "Storm". The first two sagas were a masterpiece. The creative liberties were amazing to make sense with the plot and give the characters motivation (for example "I'm just a man" was FANTASTIC! The way the myth from Iliou Persis that gave us only one phrase "Odysseus kills Astyanax by throwing him off the wall" is now transformed into a marvelous emotional dilemma and a painful decision). In this case the creative liberty work WITH the plot and not against it. I didn't mind it as much that they made Polites a fluffy guy for no reason to fit that stereotypical "innocence of the team" plot because Polites is a clean slate character in Odyssey. However after Storm I started seeing your typical "Hollywood film 'adaptation' logic with changing stuff at the plot". I was intrigued at how they decided to give Polyphemus an excuse to kill like the guys enter a cave that is obviously habitable and kill an animal that is obviously domesticated and they do not know someone lives there? In the original it was clear someone lived there which made Odysseus curious to interract with them. I was willing to ignore that because ok creative liberties but then Athena was there!? And she gave Odysseus every opportunity to kill him while Odysseus was just "TOO NICE?!" like since when? Odysseus was all about killing him but he had no guarantee he would plus he needed him to open the cave. And the way he revealed his name in the musical was so rush and almost "out of spite" for Athena not a result of a secclusion in a cave for days and days and then his pride speaking up when Polyphemus called him a coward (which I tried to capture to my fic, not sure if I succeeded but still). So anyways at that point I was sure we wouldn't see the last of it with the changes. Poseidon destroys the ships instead of the Laestrygonians (no surprise there, rarely ever see anyone even mention the Laestrygonians yet alone show their contribution to the Odyssey) but then Circe happened and I just knew that we would have to derail from the original more and more

Circe's role was incredibly diminished for the sakes of making her actions more mellow and pass the message of loyalty and kindness. Circe in the original gives Odysseus valid information for his trip provisions and much more. In Epic not only we do not see the importance of Odysseus selling himself to Circe and we have Circe for some reason seducing him to kill him (removing her humanity from when she got scared that her magic won't work on him, potentially thinking he is some kind of god, begging for her safety to then suggesting her bed as Hermes predicts) I mean she had lions and wolves to her disposal she doesn't need to seduce him to kill him. Then of course Jorge realized that a big chunk of plot is missing and so he made Odysseus find out about Skylla by the sirens?! Like...okay... Even Tiresias gives him almost nothing (in the original he also tells him how to break the curse) Which seems interesting how Odysseus breaks down with "Monster" in Tiresias when he has received an act of kindess before. Wouldn't it be more amazing if he had that breakdown AFTER he paid the price with Circe with his own body? That even kindess has a terrible price? Of course the most iconic scene of the Odyssey after the murder of the suitors and Cyclops, the Sirens were twisted to whatever we had there; Odysseus listening to their song was of massive importance to his natural curiocity and we didn't get that (not to mention how would the sirens spell work on him and have Penelope there if he didn't hear their song in the first place?) and of course the fact that he kills them?! Like...how that even works I have no idea and like in the original people were running for their lives. Didn't even look back. Apparently they had all the time in the world to capture them, they knew apparently exactly how many they were and then they kill them?! Like I won't even say that they used the medieval mermaid instead of the sirens and then they "leave them drown" (how you drown fish people is beyond me! Maybe they are sharks that need to keep moving lol) and of course again that scene seemed to me that it was there only to show that "Odysseus is a monster" which makes no sense Odyssey-wise for many reasons. and then of course again Skylla; Odysseus doesn't gear up to protect his men, he is the one who chooses the sacrifice out of spite etc etc

Many others got sped up like the Helios cattle but ok I guess that is expected up to one point even if it could be handled differently but of course then we have also Zeus being a jerk and again making Odysseus choose? The storm that took the lives of his men was a natural consequence, not some twisted thing to prove how "monstrous" Odysseus is. In fact Odysseus tried till the last moment to sail away and save the lives he could (see my other analysis here) and of course again as many people said on God Games and all how Zeus was twisted yet another time although in Odyssey he had zero reasons to object apart from the natural hubris nemesis sequence. He never called Odysseus "shameful" either. In fact he says he agrees with Athena that calls him the most pious.

I think the massive change that I believe is abused by modern retellings is the whole "monster to man" trope. Odysseus losing his moral compass and "becoming the monster" and the plot around revolving to it. That was never the pont of Odyssey in my opinion. Odysseus never really lost his moral compass it is just his morality was not all pure and lovey in the first place. Was he changed by his experiences to be more ruthless in general? Absolutely but he was never changed to a monster according to Homeric version (because post-homeric versions already treat him as a villain from the get-go)

As for the things I liked about it, I had made a post you can see here:

I do love the harmonies and the music in it and I love the passion and the talents of the people in it. It is just that the whole plot for me is just not it. Also maybe I am also mostly annoyed with how the "fandom logic" has taken over it. Like internet getting swarmed by it. Epic quotes or facts getting literally mixed up or associated with the original or the fact we can no longer speak on the original unless someone brings up Epic the Musical... This annoys me to no ends. Of course I recognize the passion of the fans of the musical. Is just a personal thing to me. I felt the same when people were using Percy Jackson or Miller's books to talk on mythology before. Is the same here.

Of course I need to say this all the above is my PERSONAL OPINION. I have literally NOTHING against people who love the musical and the original equally. I am just NOT one of them. Also i have nothing against the artist either. I just do not agree with his outtake. Still appreciate his hard work. However when I saw the firsttwo sagas I knew this guy KNEW his mythology which is why I feel so disappointed that his later sagas felt like "Hmm...let me use that knowledge I definitely have on Odyssey just to change the hell out of it!" And that had me very sad and lowkey annoyed because I think this guy had some real stuff to create an actual Odyssey adaptation and yet again we had your average hollywood film plot where you barely see any of the plot he ellegedly adapts

Now on Paris the Musical I had answered another ask you can see here

I will not take more space on this already huge and runty post that probably made me more annoying and irritating around Tumblr! XD Generally again has little to nothing to do with Iliad but I loved the music (it was arguably one of the most original choices for music for a musical) and the songs I mention to the ask. Apart from that I am ot ecstatic by it either (arguably stage musicals do not seem to work for me when it comes to the ancient classics to a large degree because of how much the plots need to be overly simplified to fit the time frame) but I am more happy that it din't get blasted out of proportions like Epic was so the plot of it doesn't even need to be pointed out that it is not accurate and all. It is self-evident. The fact that the creator of Epic needed to "warn the fans" on how inaccurate his work is, speaks volumes to me.

I will close this runt now because is already too long. I think both Epic and Paris musicals have little to nothing to do with the things they adapt but Ironically Paris the Musical changed less stuff than Epic in comparison to magnitude. Both are passionate projects with great potential and very good music but plot wise I am not anymore surprised that they do not follow the actual plots or character developments. I am surprised that Epic was more accurate to the character development of Eurylochus than the main protagonist Odysseus! Made me focus more on Eurylochus than Odysseus! Hahaha!

I am glad that the musicals make more people willing to read the originals though. For that I am grateful.

And if I have to pick one song from each musical I would say "Just a Man" and "Business" respectably but of course I like others as well especially from Epic such as "Horse and the Infant", "Will of the gods" and "Storm".

I hope this answers your questions! I will elaborate further on some of the points I make here if you want! ^_^

[shantechni]

"2012 Mikey is Abused" and other constant complaints that, quite frankly, don't make sense

Since one Reddit user (who shall remain anonymous) inadvertently made me type out an essay I intended to write and post in a more coherent manner at a later date, I will be using their comment and my response.

Anyways, the comment itself starts off fairly normal and agreeable:

But then I see the next three points and my sleep-deprived mind just goes off the rails, so let's start with the second point:

Let me preface this by saying I absolutely do not condone the writing here because everyone under the sun will agree that we could've easily had the "Karai is our sister!?" plot twist without Leo and Karai briefly developing feelings for each other.

The problem is that this brief development of feelings is wildly blown out of proportion by the fandom, so much so that it makes it seem as though Leo and Karai actually had anything legitimate going on between them.

The "incest-eqsue garbage" between Leo and Karai is almost nonexistent outside of the writing room. They openly crush on each other for a whopping six episodes by way of verbally teasing each other and being at odds before Karai tells Leo that she's the Shredder's daughter. That's it. He is not pursuing her after that (hardly ever did, not even to the extent that Donnie pursues April) and Karai isn't remotely fond of him anymore after he broke their deal. Then, after we find out alongside Splinter that she's actually his daughter, he tells Leo towards the end of Follow the Leader. We don't get a reaction, actually nothing on Leo's side since the Foot Clan is mostly absent with April being the main point of conflict, even in Target: April O'Neil because April's forgiveness of the turtles is the main focus.

Leo eventually attempts to tell Karai the truth in Wormquake! and The Manhattan Project and she obviously doesn't believe the poor guy, she just wants to kill the turtles and Splinter at this point. Leo doesn't tell her because "he still likes her", but because, in his own words, it would change everything. She deserves to know the truth and Splinter shouldn't have his own daughter cursing him at every waking moment. When she tricks the gang into bringing her to the lair under the guise of her finally accepting the truth, Leo is ecstatic and his first thought is for her and Splinter to make amends. He's upset that Raph still can't fully trust her in the end when she fought alongside them (who can blame Raph though, he's cradling an unconscious brother after a plan gone awry), and that's the end of that.

They dedicate two episodes to the guys attempting to rescue her because Leo has enough brain cells to worry about what the Shredder could be doing with her, and Raph makes a jab at Leo on one instance when they find her (there is absolutely no romantic undertone, Raph just picks at his old crush on her and their tendency to tease each other at the worst times). Then, when she wants to get back at the Shredder for ripping her away from a life she never knew was her's, Leo attempts to aid her because he knows it isn't wise to face someone like that alone, especially with his henchmen there.

There's one last self-aware jab at their past feelings in S5, of which Karai awkwardly remembers and forgoes mentioning, and that's the last you see or hear of that.

As much as I dislike it, I'd take this narrative over the Donnie-April-Casey hurricane any day.

It seems that 2012 Mikey's mere existence is a sore spot for fans because Jesus Christ this gets brought up way too much.

Mikey is not written as a complete idiot, he's written as someone who doesn't see a reason to take everything so seriously, has odd habits, and doesn't always think things through, yet is shown to be highly capable and intelligent when the situation calls for it. Yes the writers left much to be desired at times, but to say they wrote him to be a "complete idiot" and left it at that is just offensive. I'll ignore all the miraculous things Mikey can do with Kraang stuff and Dimension X and focus on what other things he's shown to be capable of.

Mikey was a temporary learning model for Donnie in how to fight without thinking, or in better terms, how to fight instinctually without becoming bogged down by your own mind. Splinter's lesson is shown in a comedic manner, but that's ultimately what helped Donnie defeat Falco.

Another interesting thing is his ability to keep his composure when no one else around him can do so. I mentioned this briefly in another post, but it really stands out to me how he put Leo at the top of his priority list in Invasion Part 2. He's as worried for Splinter as Raph and Donnie are, but they have with them a crippled and unconcious Leo who needs medical attention asap, compared to martial arts master Splinter who's older and wiser than the three of them combined at times. Even when they eventually find Splinter and lose him, he keeps the gang in line by reminding them, as well as himself, that Splinter can take care of himself.

Along with that is when Splinter was kidnapped in The Manhattan Project. Mikey was quick to intervene when Raph was angry with Leo for allowing Tiger Claw to coax him into calling Splinter, and he reminded the two of the problem at hand: they have Splinter, let's go find him and take him back. There are so many other moments when he becomes the levelheaded one in response to the chaos or disorder surrounding him.

Mikey is a highly skilled fighter, he's emotionally intelligent, he remembers the weirdest things that eventually aid the team, he's street smart, he's a fast learner (ex: Bradford's secret kata, as well as the temporary use of the plasma katana in Target: April O'Neil), he's great at distracting enemies without needing to become bait, he gets insecure about things, he has photographic memory, he's the most outgoing of his brothers and therefore ends up with the most friends, he's quick to adapt to a situation and think of a plan, he can throw together seemingly random ingredients to create exactly what Donnie would struggle to create, he knew exactly what to do to find Casey after his run-in with Tiger Claw, the list goes on.

Heck, just to add to this, Mikey is the one who saves the day in three separate stories in S5. 1) His temporary electric powers save the world from Dregg and the Newtralizer, 2) he convinced Frankenstein's monster to join their side, retrieved the scepter from Savanti and Dracula (he accidentally broke the scepter while he was at it, but that helped) and cured Raph and Donnie of their vampirism, and 3) he was the one who repaired Kavaxas' seal and made him reopen the portal to the Netherworld so the dead could return.

The brothers don't always take him as seriously as they should or listen to him, and that's understandable at times, but when they do, they're reminded of the fact that Mikey, in his own way, is intelligent.

If I had a dime for every comment I've seen about this, I'd be rich enough to buy the TMNT series from Viacom and right every wrong they made with the 2012 series.

These abuse allegations are as bad as people putting Markiplier in the same tweet as problematic Youtubers and saying something wild like, "these content creators should've been cancelled a long time ago." I feel like people who say the brothers abuse Mikey are either an only child or genuinely have a warped sense for what actually counts as abuse, and I'm not even trying to be mean, those are just my thoughts. I shouldn't even have to comment on this, but the fact that people are still seriously believing that to this day is shocking.

Would you also like to say that Raph was abused in Turtle Temper when Splinter had the boys ceaselessly taunt him in that little exercise? Or that the boys abused Raph everytime they downplayed his anger? Or that Raph abused Donnie by threatening to hit him if he didn't find Snakeweed's hideout? Or that Leo abused Donnie everytime he stressed him out by rushing him for answers? Or that Donnie abused Mikey because Mikey flinched 2cm to the right when Donnie raised his hand to playfully knock at his noggin? Or that Leo was abused by the team because they took forever to view him as their leader? Or that Splinter abused the boys because he was "too rough" on them during training?? Or that April abused Donnie because she "constantly led him on"? Or that Xever and Bradford abused Baxter???

I'm losing my mind over here

Mikey is never physically or emotionally abused by his brothers, the show speaks for itself. But if you somehow aren't listening, go look up a textbook example of abuse, or better yet, look at Karai.

Abuse is the Shredder locking Karai in a dungeon when she tries to escape to her real family and going so far to become a peak manipulator by saying Karai was hurting him by making him lock her away. Worse than that, he starts brainwashing her with mind controlling worms so she has no choice but to obey him. Even before then, he's lowkey uncaring of her wellbeing: he treats her like any other soldier of his and doesn't listen to her when she tries to tell him something. He doesn't address her concerns about the Foot bots nearly finishing her off, instead telling her, "disobedience comes with a stiff penalty, especially for my daughter," when she objects to him telling her not to take action against the turtles while he's gone.

He only ever pays her any attention or gives her praise when it benefits him and his vendetta against Splinter.

Splinter and the turtles are the farthest thing from the image of a family filled with abusers. Raph openly apologizes to Mikey when Splinter tells him to stop picking at him in Shellacne, Raph comforts Donnie when the brainiac is somber after forcing Timothy into the equivalent of a cold sleep, Raph apologizes when his anger gets the better of him and he hits Leo harder than intended, Donnie apologizes when he realizes he shouldn't insult Raph when the guy is visibly upset, Leo regrets doubting Donnie about Metalhead, etc., etc.

Even beyond apologies, Raph is the quickest to entertain Mikey and vice versa during a mundane moment, Donnie never kicks Mikey out of the lab, Leo plays around with Mikey when the situation doesn't call for him to be their fearless leader, and Splinter is quick to advise Mikey during Karai's Vendetta and Shellacne. There are even times when the guys just go along with Mikey's antics because there's no harm in doing so, and often times Mikey needs a moment to be silly.

If you think play fighting, teasing, or getting a little physical with a sibling is the equivalent of abuse, particularly in the context of TMNT of all things, you need to do some re-evaluation.

[iiotic]

༻༉What letters?

(Human) Alastor x Fem!reader - (2/2)

TW - swearing, mentions of death.

How could you look at him the same when he had left you heartbroken like that?

How could you forgive him for everything he'd done?

How could you act like everything was fine when it wasn't?

You looked up at the tall creature before you with fear in your eyes. None of you said anything. His red eyes staring at you, almost like you were his prey and he was your predator. He was smiling. Why the hell was he always smiling like nothing has ever happen?

- Why didn't you respond to any of my letters? - The fear in your eyes slowly turning into anger and sorrow. - You promised me you'd write back to me. Then tell me why didn't i receive anything?

His eyes narrowed and his smile grew bigger. - What letters? - His voice sounding like an old radio. The static was ringing in yours ears, causing you a headache. - I never received any of your letters, dear.

- Stop lying to me, Alastor. - You quickly interrupted his sentence. - I wrote to you everyday, hoping for a response from you. Tell me, why didn't you fulfil our promise?

- I would-- He was interrupted once again. This time by the owner of the hotel. She walked up to you two with an excited face, screaming your name.

She slowed down as she saw who you were talking to. Her excited smile slowly turned into an more nervous one.

- I see you two already met each other. - Charlie said focusing more on Alastor, hoping that he didn't do anything stupid. - In case that he didn't introduce himself his name is Alastor. But I'm sure you've already heard of him. I just came her to say that your room is ready.

You thanked Charlie as you were truly grateful for everything she already has done for you. Without her you would probably be homeless, just waiting to get killed in the next extermination. Soon enough Charlie completely ignored Alastor, dragging you along to introduce to you everyone in the hotel.

- So that was Niffty! We're 80% sure she's harmless. And this is the bar and the bartender - She said pointing on an avian cat demon, absolutely screaming with excitement. But can you really blame her? You were her second true guest!

The demon behind the bar just looked at you for a second turning back around to whatever he was doing.

- Oh! Vaggie here!! - She said waving at a girl with long white hair with a jagged, moth-like shape to the cut, with gray-lavender stripes at the ends. Charlie quickly introduced her too. - And this is my girlfriend, Vaggie.

Vaggie just gave you a slight smile while telling Charlie that they should talk in private. Apologising Charlie said that she was going to be right back.

So now you were left all alone in the lobby. You decided to sit on the couch to think about everything that has just happened.

"Okay so there's an afterlife and i'm not so surprisingly in hell. Im in a place filled with crazy psychos.." You pinched the bridge of your nose. Looking around at your surroundings, hoping that this is all a dream. "Some surprisingly happy woman allowed me to stay at her hotel for as long as i want to. And in this hotel there's my childhood bestfriend. Amazing."

- Fucking amazing - You said out loud as you heard Charlie coming back wanting to continue the tour.

---

You woke up to the sound of someone knocking on your door. Getting up and throwing a blanket on yourself you yelled that they should come in.

And he did.

- What are you doing here, Alastor? - You looked at him with anger in your eyes. - I don't want to see you.

- Well, dearest. - He paused thinking how he should put it in words. - I just wanted to make few things clear beetwen us.

- We haven't seen each others in years and here you are being mad at me because you didn't keep our little promise.

- I didn't keep it? - You got up from your sitting position on your bed and started to slowly walk up to him. - I always stayed up late at night writing letters to you every-fucking-day. I thought that you would care just a little to write back to maybe I don't fucking one. Atleast one letter?

- As i said earlier, i didn't receive any letters. - He looked at you calmly with his signature smile - However I'd like to know your excuse to not responding to my letters.

- I didn't receive any letters Alastor! - God, you were so mad at him. He truly broke your heart. You liked him.. No you lived him for such a long time. He was your first crush and now? He was just a fucking manipulator. - Why the fuck are you lying to me?

- I'd like to discuss this matter calmly. - He said referring to you cussing him in every sentence and your unstoppable yelling. - How about I'll take you to a cafe, my treat.

After considering his offer you agreed. You really needed to know what happened between you two and if he was really lying. It was quite dumb for you to just assume he was a liar without any proof but I guess it was the adrenaline rushing through your veins.

This morning you borrowed a dress from Charlie becouse you didn't have any other clothes then the ones that you've fallen in. It was a black dress just below your knees with an sweetheart neckline. She also borrowed you her jewelry so now you're also wearing a golden necklace.

The time of day has come and Alastor knocked to your bedroom once again. Thus time you opened the door closing it behind, ready to go.

---

Alastor snapping his finger teleported both of you to a nearby cafe. Coming in and gesturing you to chose a table. After you choose one he pulled out the chair for you and took a seat before you.

- So dear. - He looked up at you - That dress really compliments your figure.

- Thank you however it isn't mine. Now I'd like you to explain what happened?

- I don't know what you're talking about, darling. - Oh now he is acting dumb?

- I'll ask one last time. Why didn't you respond to any of my letters? - You asked, this time calmly. Crossing your arms.

- and I'll say one last time. I didn't receive them. - He said looking out of the window, seeing demons suffer. - I always thought that you didn't write them, that you've forgotten about me.

- I'd never forget you, Alastor. You meant a lot for me. - You responded looking out of the window as well - I couldn't imagine life without you. That's why I was truly heartbroken when i didn't ses you write back.

- I was writing to you, so many times. In fact i always wrote to you on the end of every week. - He confessed - For over 15 years.

- But i didn't receive anything?

- Neither did i, dear - Maybe it was the wrong address? Maybe I just didn't know how to send letters? Maybe I didn't actually send them?

- So.. I'm sorry I'm so embarrassed right now. - You looked at your lap fidgeting with your fingers - I should have never yelled at you like. It was very immature of me to accuse you of something you didn't do.

- That's fine, darling - he said looking back at you lowering his tone a bit - Everything is fine between us?

You looked at him with hope in your eyes. Oh how much you wanted to bring things to normal, how it was earlier when you were kids. - Yeah everything is fine.

-Smile my dear! You know you're never fully dressed without one.

(A/N) I rushed the ending so much.. Just because I posted it halfway done and had to speed run the rest. I hope y'all enjoy!