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offsidekineticist · 7 months ago

Text

FINALLY

I mentioned in another post that I was going to split the next chapter into three chapters and...uh...I lied. It's Giliys's Terrible, Horrible, Awful, No Good, Very Bad Day, and splitting it into three parts just kind of messed with the flow. So, uh...sorry it's so long...

CW: Hurt people hurting people (dysfunctional/abusive family or relationship dynamics); problems eating; poor bedside manner; migraines; rotting body parts; use of a gendered slur; cops being jerks; mass casualty incident; loss of control/blackout; suicidal ideation; saying goodbye

What I Said Back In Brastlewark

Everything comes to a head the day Qweck returns to check on Thay’s hands. The day starts off miserably. The day before was one of Thay’s Bad Days, when he couldn’t manage the energy to leave the apartment, which meant he couldn’t eat all day because of the Stench. The night was also bad. He pretended to sleep, but by now you can tell the difference from the way he breathes–soft, shallow breaths when pretending, long and loud when asleep.

Despite being hungry and exhausted, Thay forces himself out of bed at dawn. You’d rather he save his strength for later, so you can get him to someplace where he can eat, so you put a hand on his shoulder.

“Thay, I think it’s ok if you stay in bed–I think she’ll understand, on account of bein’ a healer–”

“I will not have her thinking I’m bedridden,” he snaps through grit teeth, swaying in place. He is unsteady on his feet, but he is standing. He looks around the apartment. “Where’s the incense?”

Your brow furrows in confusion. You had brought home some incense you swiped from Temple Hill the other day, hoping it would cover up the stench so Thay could eat at home. Turns out that layering two strong smells on top of each other just gives Thay migraines. “It’s in the cabinet, but why–?”

“Light some.”

You should know better. You should know better by now, but you argue with him anyway. “Uh…Is that really such a good idea, Thay? You’re already having a rough day, and last time–”

“Shut up and light the damn incense,” Thay snaps, even sharper than usual. You feel the fire in your chest, the whispers almost too quiet to make out–how dare he speak to you that way? How dare he tell you what to do, like you’re just–

Instinct takes over, pushing away the fire. Shame and guilt at having disappointed him replace the rage and indignation. “Of course. I’m sorry,” you say softly, bowing your head slightly as you retrieve the incense from the cabinet and put it in a bowl on the table to light. You can tell as soon as you’ve lit the incense that this was a bad idea: Thay’s skin goes from stone gray to ashy, and his jaw tightens as he’s determined not to be sick. But you don’t say anything. You don’t offer to put out the flame.

You help him dress, and then he settles down on the floor. “Fetch me my book?” he asks, and you retrieve his latest book from his bag. It’s one of the ones he got from Rivad, you’re pretty sure. He’s been reading through them near constantly since arriving in Kintargo, and it became even more intense once Qweck left. You think this book is about summoning circles, given the illustrations. Every time he reads it, you want to ask him to read out loud so you can follow along, but you know better.

You open the book to the bookmarked page and hold it up in your lap for him (“What do you think you’re doing?! You do not ever lay a book flat! You’ll break the spine!”), and you can immediately tell Thay is only pretending to read. His eyes are unfocused, staring straight into the book instead of moving back and forth across the page. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, and you realize he probably can’t read with that migraine of his. He’s just going through the motions so it will look like he’s reading it when Qweck arrives. He her to find him at the start of a cheery morning reading his book. He doesn’t want her to know how much he’s struggling. He doesn’t want anyone to know.

(Except you. Everyone gets his best face except for you.)

It’s hard to judge how long the two of you sit there like that–you usually judge the passage of time by how many pages he’s asked you to turn–but eventually there's a knock at the door. Thay flinches at the noise with a slight whimper. You gently close the book and set it down on the floor in front of him as softly as you can before getting the door.

Qweck looks well, for the most part–less tired than she did last time you saw her. She’s paler than usual, but given how she’s covering her mouth and nose with her hand, you can guess why.

"Why does half the city smell like rotting flesh?” she demands without preamble.

“Nice to see you too, princess. Settled in so well to rich folk life that you forgot what the rest of us smell like, have ya?” you say, stepping aside so she can get into the apartment. Her ear twitches in frustration.

“We both know it didn’t smell like this before I left. What happened?”

"Fuck if I know, I just live here. You try asking the shiny jackdaws about it? Maybe they’ll care once someone from uptown asks.”

(The answer is that Hell doesn't let its holdings go without a fight. Hell is coming for Kintargo, and the birdbrains who “liberated” the city can’t fucking stop it.)

“Giliys, stop antagonizing our guest,” Thay says with false gentleness. When you turn to look at him, it’s all you can do not to gape, because there he is: it’s the old Thay, his mild disapproval of your antics evident in the way his bottom lip slightly juts out like a disappointed pout, but an affable twinkle in his eye assuring you he isn't angry. For a moment you're back in Brastlewark, and the last several months have all been a bad dream, and you have to remind yourself of the truth. Even knowing how skilled Thay is at disguising his feelings, it’s still shocking to see just how good he is at it.

Qweck stares at him a moment, and your heart sinks. She won’t see through it. She’ll think he’s doing great, and still nobody will know except you.

“Is that incense?” she asks.

"Helps cover the Stench,” Thay explains with a wry smile.

“And that isn't making things worse?” Queck asks.

"Hard to get much worse than corpse stench, isn't it?” Thay says with a chuckle as he stands up, and gods, the migraine must be bad because he actually winces.

“It’s actually giving me a headache,” Qweck says. Thay slips for a moment, his expression freezing.

“Giliys!” He hisses.

“Yes, Thay,” you say as you hurry to put out the incense.

Recovering himself, Theo returns his attention to Qweck. “How shall we do this, Healer?”

Qweck looks at Thay suspiciously and then looks at you as you hurriedly smother the burning incense. Your eyes meet, and you search for any sign that she knows that this is an act. Any sign that she sees through this and knows how badly he’s struggling.

The moment passes, and she returns her attention to Thay. “I just need something flat to rest your hand on. A stack of books will do.”

He grimaces at that before he puts back on the cheeriness. "Promise I won't leak blood or pus on the books?”

“Have you been leaking blood or pus?”

"No.”

"Then this won't change that. Where's the bag?”

"Here,” you say, holding up Thay's biggenlil bag. One by one, you take out books on infernal hierarchies and arcane geometry and the construction of summoning circles and whatever else the Order of the Rack deemed too subversive for public consumption until you've made a stack tall enough that Qweck won't have to bend over to reach Thay's hand while she works. She and Thay both settle by the stack of books, and she takes out a small pair of scissors to cut through the bandages she used to make her makeshift splints.

Thay does a spectacular job of hiding it, but the tightness in his jaw is giving away the fact that this hurts. It doesn't stop him from making small talk or chuckling at Qweck's dry sense of humor.

Halfway through working on his second hand she decides she's had enough. "You don't have to pretend for me, Theo. It's alright if you're in pain.”

The expression freezes on his face. "Well, the last time I let you see how much pain I was in, you left, so you'll forgive me for being skeptical.”

Your heart sinks. She sees through him–at least enough to know his hands hurt–but it doesn’t matter. She’s not coming back.

Qweck’s face tightens. "I see,” she says, cutting off the last bandage. "Should I bother asking how they feel, or are you going to lie to me about that, too?”

He slowly opens and closes both hands, ignoring the barb. "It's fine,” he announces. He pauses before looking sheepishly at Qweck. "Genuinely, it's fine. My affect is not a deception, I just. I didn't want to be misunderstood.”

“Is that what you think happened last time? I just misunderstood because you didn't put on a performance for me?” Thay freezes, and you can see him struggling to find the correct answer through the pain. Qweck must see it too because she closes her eyes with a sigh. "Your hands have atrophied, and you're going to have to learn how to use them again. Giliys can show you where I'm staying. I want to see you twice a week for conditioning.”

“Twice a week–I'm sure that's unnecessary.”

"Of course you are. Wealdays and Stardays at noon. Don't waste my time by skipping.” She turns her attention to you. "Do you have any flayleaf you need me to measure out?”

“Forgot to pick up the new batch yesterday, so I'm going to take care of it today. Figured I'd stop by the cafe this afternoon,” you say.

(“Thay, I have to go–it's just for a couple of hours, but she's gonna be here tomorrow and I need to get the medicine before–”

“Please–please don't.”)

Qweck rolls her eyes. "Of course, because I couldn't possibly have had my own plans for the afternoon. Fine. I'll see you in a few hours.” She turns back to Thay. "I don't know why you're lying to your healer about your health, but I do know that your hands are not, and probably never will be, back to normal, so don't strain them by pretending they are.”

"It really isn't so–”

"Theoven,” she says sharply. "Your hands are holding together by a thread. Do not ignore the pain. If something aggravates it, you stop, and if that's too much for you, let me know, and I can save us all a lot of grief by just amputating now. Is that clear?”

Theo nods but you can't tell how much of that got through to him. You hope he got it because otherwise you'll have to be the one enforcing this bit of doctor's orders, and judging by how he responds to your limiting his flayleaf dosage when he has a flare up, that won't be fun. Qweck, however, seems satisfied with that–or at least satisfied that if Thay loses his hands he won't be able to blame her. She picks up her doctor's bag and stands up.

"Well, if that's all, I'll be off.”

"It was wonderful to see you again,” Thay says, as if that can somehow salvage the situation.

"I'm glad. It would have been nice if I could have seen you too. Remember: Wealday at noon.”

It is only after the sound of her steps on the stairs has faded that Thay suddenly doubles over and lets out a half groan, half roar of pain that turns into violent but futile retching. You hurry to his side and, seeing that he's shaking and gasping for breath, you scoop him up in your arms and carry him back to the bed. It’s not hard; he is disturbingly light these days.

You gently lay him on the bed. You turn away, but he reaches out, with a hiss of pain, very weakly grabs your sleeve.

“Don't go,” he gasps.

You were just going to shutter the window. The light makes the migraines worse. You know it will be better for him if you go and come back–

–but he said no.

So you climb onto the bed, carefully shielding him from the sunlight from the window as best you can, gently stroking his hair as he whimpers and gasps in pain and he buries his face in your chest, and you wish he would just let you help him right.

It is early evening when Theo finally falls asleep and you're able to leave to find his medicine. You need to be quick–hell's influence is at its strongest after dark, so the less time you spend out at night, the better. The sun is almost touching the horizon line, ready to sink into the sea for the night when you leave the apartment. By the time you've arrived at the fisherman’s supply shop by the harbor, delivery in hand, the sun is gone.

You have to pound on the door three times before it opens.

“Shh!” hisses the dwarven tiefling at the door. You're pretty sure she gave you her name at some point, but you just call her Ears because of her huge, bat-like ears. She glares at you with beady eyes. “Are you insane being out after dark?” She ushers you inside.

“Shit don’t stop needing to be done just cuz the sun got lazy,” you snap. She laughs.

“All that halfling luck's gone to your head if you think you're not bullshitting. Good to see you, I guess. Was beginnin’ to think the guard got to ya,” the tiefling said, crossing her arms. “Them or the ghosts.”

“Yeah, well, they didn’t.” You set down the bloody bag on the counter, mood soured more than usual by the old 'halfling luck' line. “All three are in there.”

She opens the bag and immediately chokes on the stench. “Fuck–how long have you had these?”

“A couple days. Shit came up so I couldn't get to you right away. Didn’t realize they were rotting that bad.”

“How the fuck don’t you notice this?” She demands, still gagging.

“All of Redroof smells like that.”

“You poor bastards. Fuck.” She ties off the bag. “Drop it in the river on the way out, will ya? Gonna have to light some incense or something to get the smell out, shit.”

“Did you get me the good stuff this time?”

Ears’s tail flicks in irritation, and she rolls her eyes as she turns back towards the shelves behind her. “I did what I could. Best I could manage was more raw stuff.”

You grit your teeth, ignoring the heat in your chest. “That wasn't the deal.”

“No, the deal was you take care of my competition, and I do what I can. Look, you want the stuff so bad, you break into the castle and take it.”

You clench your teeth. Supplies are limited in Kintargo. Trade has been disrupted so that anything that relies on imports has become absurdly expensive. It's even worse when the goods in question are medical in nature–any medicines that can’t be easily brewed from local herbs are now kept and dispensed by the City of Kintargo. It was one thing to break into a mostly empty mansion and take a few of the less notable baubles; it would be another to break into the headquarters of the provincial military, the city guard, and the local hellknight order to take highly valued medicine.

(You could pull it off, you’re sure, but only if you weren’t planning on staying in the city after)

So instead you’re stuck knocking off petty criminals so a kid with delusions of grandeur and a connection in the docks can give you the stuff that's too shitty to sell to alchemists. You’re just able to wrestle down the heat in your chest when you see the size of the herb pouch Ears is holding.

“What the fuck–that’s nowhere near enough!”

“That's what I got. You have any idea how much that little bag is worth in this city right now?” She gets a sly look on her face. “Now, I might be willing to stick my neck out a little for a full-timer.”

There it is. Ever since she realized you were a professional and not just some goon with a knife, she’s been trying to get you to agree to being the lieutenant of her “crime empire” of pickpockets and muggers. “I’ll think about it.”

“You always say that.”

“I’m always thinking ‘bout it.”

“Aww, Lucky, I’m flattered! But I’m gonna need an answer soon. This is a lot of effort to go through for a man who won’t commit.”

The innuendo startles you, and without instinct to tamp it down the rage burns in your chest. How dare she try to ensnare you? How dare she mock you? How dare this waif, cursed with a speck of hellishness, mock the vessel of hell itself?

You force the fire down through sheer force of will. You ignore how the flames roar in fury, robbed of sustenance.

I am hungry, hellhound!

You snatch up the herb pouch out of her hand, ignoring the fire. “I’ll be by when I need more,” you snarl as you go to the door. She doesn’t resist, only grins smugly at you–she likes unsettling you, likes reminding you that there’s nowhere else to go.

The fire burns, and it takes all you have not to let it consume her for her insolence.

“Don’t forget the hands!” Ears shouts after you.

“Don't forget it yourself, you fucking pussy!” you shout over your shoulder before slamming the door behind you, holding the fire in your chest so it doesn’t spread. Once you're sure you're not going to catch fire, you take a deep breath and begin walking.

Qweck is staying with Laria Longroad, who runs the Long Roads Coffeehouse in the Villegre. The Villegre is Kintargo's university district, situated against the city's northern wall–on the opposite side of the city from Ears's supply shop. You don't exactly like having to cross a helltouched city at night, but you don't have much choice.

You never put much stock in the "lucky halfling" myth–you always figured that if you were really lucky, you wouldn't ever have been a slave–but considering you make it to the docks, catch the ferry across the river, and make it as far as Alabaster Academy without seeing any trouble, maybe there's something to it. The hair on the back of your neck is just starting to settle down when a shriek cuts through the air and rattles your bones. You flinch and cover your ears. You'd heard rumors about this–a phantom that screeches through the night, uttering oaths and curses in dark languages. You think it's Infernal that she's screaming, but you don’t understand the meaning. You don't know what the phantom–ghost–wraith–thing wants, but you don't intend to find out.

You sprint down the street, and you feel the warmth spread from your chest down towards your legs, driving you faster and faster. You will pay for that when you stop, when the fire won't die back down and hide in your chest anymore, but the creature's wails are in your ears, and you need to find shelter now.

You ignore the CLOSED sign in the window and barrel through the door. A halfling woman with fair hair–Laria Longroad–startles from her work cleaning the countertop and looks up.

“What the fuuu–oh! It’s you.” she says, eyes widening in surprise before she smiles like she’s happy to see you.

(Laria always smiles when she sees you. You have no fucking clue why. You’re just as much of a dick to her as you are to everyone else who isn’t Thay, but for some reason that doesn’t faze her.)

“Yeah, sorry to show up so late, I just gotta talk to Qweck about something,” you say.

"She said you might come around. But you're outta luck," Laria says, disappearing behind the counter again before walking around it to get to you. “Qweck’s gone to bed. Early sleeper, she is, but I suppose that’s t’be expected, what with her being Irorian and all.”

Shit. “Well, I guess I better go wake her up.” You move to walk towards the back, toward the stairs that you know lead to the apartment upstairs, but Laria steps in front of you.

“If you give me the medicine, I’ll see that she gets it and brings it to you tomorrow. She needs her rest. Today was rough on her.”

You huff at that. “Sure it was. She spent less than an hour with us. I think she can handle five minutes with me to get Thay’s pain down from excruciating to torturous.”

She doesn’t react right away. Then she reaches out and takes your arm. “Come sit down, Giliys. There’s something I’d like to talk with you about.”

You almost tell her to fuck off, but you’ve always had a soft spot for Laria. You knew her when she was first on the run after beating a slaver to death with her bare hands, and you got to watch her grow into the tiller she is today. She thinks you had something to do with that. Maybe you did; you did check in on her a lot when she was getting established in Kintargo. And you were maybe a little more honest than usual with her about your history when you caught her crying over the blood on her hands.

The point is, you never had a sister, but if you did you’d kinda hope she’d be like Laria. If Laria says she wants to talk to you, well, you gotta make sure the guilt isn’t getting to her (she’s not as used to it as you are, on account of being an all around better person than you). So you let her lead you to a table and you both sit down across from each other.

“Everything ok, Kid?” you ask.

“I should be asking you that,” she says. “We haven’t talked since you arrived, but from what Qweck has told me, you’ve been on a rough ride the last couple of months.”

You wave her off. “I’m fine. I’m not the one who got tortured for a month.”

“That doesn’t mean it hasn’t been hard.”

You shrug. “It is what it is. You said there was something you wanted to talk about?”

She hesitates before nodding. She's thinking through her words before she speaks, and that's not a good sign–Laria has never been afraid to speak her mind, at least not to you. “It’s funny," she says, looking over the shop. "Most days I’m used to it, but every now and then I stop and look around and think ‘this is my place. My shop. My home. I own this.’ And it’s just…for a second I don’t believe it. It’s like the Laria from before just popped into my body, and she just can’t grasp the idea of having any of this.”

You relax slightly. She just wants to talk about her feelings, and she's hesitating because they're about the Old Times. Nothing too bad, you just gotta listen and nod and not be a dick. “Yeah," you say with a nod, "yeah, I think I get what you mean. Not that I have a coffee shop or anything, but…yeah. I know that feeling.”

(You used to get that feeling when you’d visit Thay, when you’d sit on his couch with a mug of hot cocoa and realize you have a friend, that this beautiful, wonderful soul was your friend and chose to be your friend, even though you had proven to him from the moment you met that you didn’t deserve–)

“It gets me thinking, sometimes,” Laria continues. “Reminiscing, I guess you could say, about how I got here. Remember the first time you visited after I set up the shop?”

“The time you fucking poisoned me? Yeah, I remember that.”

She chuckles at that. She didn’t actually poison you, she just gave you a cup of coffee on the house, and that was how you learned that you fucking hate coffee. “I remember I mentioned I was thinking of hiring some folks to help out–another server or two. And I said I thought maybe it could be a way to help the slaves we freed. Give them a job, help them get on their feet and figure out who they want to be now that they’re free. And I remember you said something that stuck with me. You said not to make a server out of anyone still learning how to be free, cuz the customers will act like masters and make them forget they're free.”

“Yeah, I remember that, too.”

“And it's funny, because even all these years later, sometimes I catch myself falling into that–not often, but if it's been a busy few days, and I've got some cranky customers who haven't had their coffee yet, sometimes the old scars start aching, and I catch myself saying sorry to some snobby brat screaming at me in my own shop, you know?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s been a couple decades since the last time I had a real job–well, ok, I've never had a legit job, but, you know, a job with a boss–but yeah, I remember what that was like.”

She pauses for a long moment, and you begin to wonder if you’ve said something wrong. And then, disturbingly gently, she says, “It’s not just a job that can make us feel like that, though, is it?”

She's not here to talk about her feelings. There's something specific she's fishing for, and you don't like it. You can feel your expression harden. “Get to the point, Kid.”

She sighs. “I just want to make sure you haven’t forgotten that you're free. Because Qweck said some things that have me thinking that maybe you have.”

Your jaw almost drops.

“Ex-fucking-scuse me?!” you demand. “You–hold on. I–wow. Okay. So, just on the word of sheltered kid who lived in a cloister until a month ago, you’re accusing someone you’ve never met–someone, I will add, who has more goodness in his thumb than either of us have in our whole fucking bodies–you think he’s acting like a master cuz his ungrateful cunt of a daughter said so?”

“It’s not about him," Laria says, eyes wide. "It’s–”

“But it is! Of course it is! People don’t just forget they're free when they feel respected, do they? Not when they're decades removed from slavery. So she thinks he’s taking advantage of me? Of course she’d think that–she despises him!” You don’t notice your voice rising, or how it shapes itself towards the highborn Egorien of your youth. “As long as I’ve known her, all she’s ever had to say about him were backhanded comments about her guardian–never her father–her guardian, the collaborator, how he burned books for Thrune and was just as complicit as any hellknight. He took her in, raised her on his own, and she has nothing but contempt for him–and so she started pouring poison in your ear and you just believed her?!"

"That–that's not–"

"You did! You didn't even question it, you just accepted it as divine prophecy! But of course you did–she’s a pretty face, isn't she? She's someone new and exciting and we both know you–”

The phantom's wails cut through the air like a knife, and you hear her Infernal vows of vengeance against the adventurers who killed her.

You understand her.

The shock of it knocks you out of your tirade, and suddenly you realize you’re standing up, your chair overturned behind you. You tower menacingly over Laria, both hands on the table in front of you–hands flaring with sparks as smoke rises from under your palms and fingers. She stares at you in silent terror, right hand reaching for a dagger you taught her to keep in her bodice. It’s no use, though–the fire in your chest has spread through your body, and you know from the siege camp that a knife in your chest will just make things worse–

So you run. You bolt across the cafe out the door, Infernal words that you can understand pounding in your ears, trying to get her out, out, OUT! But still the woman wails and still you understand, and still the fire roars and demands escape because you promised.

The heat grows and grows in your chest and your hands and your feet, and you realize you need to get as far from people as possible because you can’t hold it in anymore and people will burn. You race towards Villegre Park–not even nobles are crazy enough to go for a walk in the park after dark.

You make it. With desperate effort, you make it to the center of the park–or close enough. You drop to your knees and wrap your arms around yourself. You feel the fire rising inside you. The scar on your chest glows red under the drawstrings of your shirt. You squeeze your eyes shut and clench your teeth with a growl and then, with all your might, you let go–

–and nothing happens.

You’re left panting and sweating from exertion and heat and emotion, but there is no relief. The fire in your chest still burns, still spreads and demands release.

I want my souls, hellhound.

You sit on the ground uselessly, shaking with anxious energy, feeling like you want to tear off your skin and escape the confines of your body. The fire burns without warmth, leaving you to shiver in the cold of the night even as your insides are consumed by an inferno.

It's hard to say how long you sit there, wrestling the hellfire under your control. It’s harder to say how long you would have remained were you not interrupted by someone grabbing your shirt collar and picking you up off the ground.

“And what’s your business here?” It’s a guard–two guards. One of them, a tiefling with curled horns, holds you up by your shirt, while the other, human by the look of them, searches you.

“Stop,” you grind out, while the fire roars in your ears.

“Hey now, what have we here?” the human guard says triumphantly, snatching the pouch of flayleaf from your belt. They open the bag and take a quick sniff. “Flayleaf–the actual leaf? Got ourselves a connoisseur, we do!”

“Fellas at the harbor must be doing a good job of keeping out the hard stuff if he’s resorting to that shit.” He drops you on the ground and puts his foot on your back before you can react. He bends over to handcuff you and he puts weight on your back, and–

And–

And it’s dawn. You’re not in the park anymore. You're still in the Villegre–you can see the academy's tower to the west–but you are on some street surrounded by smoldering ash. There are piles of ashes and scorch marks on the sides of buildings, and you suspect they form a trail that will lead you back to the park. You don't care to test that theory. You are covered in ash, your clothes are scorched, and your hands sting when you move them, burned with hellfire. The rage is gone. The flames are silent.

She is silent.

Maybe halflings are lucky–after all, you woke up. She lost grip on you–took too many souls at once–and while you don’t remember how you know this, you know she would never have let you go if she didn’t have to. You might have been lost forever if she hadn't gorged herself. You were lucky.

This has to end. You’ve kept her at bay for years, but that time is over. Next time she won’t let you go. Next time she’ll know better, and she’ll never wake up. She’s silent now, quieter than she’s been since you arrived in Kintargo, sleeping off the feast of the night before. If you’re going to end this, now’s your chance.

The sun is rising over the city. It makes the water shimmer, and it’s beautiful. It’s all beautiful. You wish you had seen it before. You wish you could see it after. You are glad you see it now.

You don’t remember the walk back to Redroof, your mind in a haze. This is the third time you’ve resolved to cut to the chase, but something about this feels different. It feels real this time. You hate that your last kill will be with that stupid decorative dagger you swiped from an idiot noble–you’ve sharpened it until it could do fucking surgery if you wanted, and it still cuts wrong. Maybe you just miss your old dagger. Maybe there’s only so much you can do with a weapon that wasn’t made to be used. Maybe you should throw yourself off the bridge like you planned when you first got here. Or maybe Qweck will agree to slit your throat for you.

You arrive, and Thay is awake. He looks at you in alarm. Right–you're badly burned, dressed in scorched clothes and covered with ash. "Gilly–what–"

"I'm dying,” you blurt out. Thay freezes. "Or–no. I need to die. The devil–I’m losing control. She’s been getting stronger since we got here, and I can’t–I can’t hold her back anymore, and someday soon she’s gonna take over and I won’t ever come back, and fuck if I know what she’ll do but she just burned a path through the Villegre and killed gods know how many people, so I know it won’t be anything fucking good. So…so I have to die.” Thay doesn't say a word. His face doesn't shift. So you do what you always do when you’re anxious about the silence: you keep going. "I thought you should know, so…y'know. You could patch things up with Qweck and make arrangements before–”

"No,” he says softly, almost keening.

“It'll be fine, Thay. She loves you, she'll–”

"I'm not losing you again!” It's an animalistic snarl, feral and harsh. The sheer intensity of it strikes you speechless for a moment before you find your words and carry on.

"You...you have to, Thay. It'll be alright–you don't need me. I haven't really been helping much, anyway. You'll be fine without me.”

"I won't!” he exclaims, and there’s a naked desperation in his expression you don’t recognize. “I won't be fine without you–how could you think–” He stops short, trying to collect himself. “I'm sorry–I know I've been awful, I'm trying, I swear, but it's just so hard, and it's not working, but I'm trying, I–please don't give up on me, Gilly, I won't survive it, please!” His expression shifts, and it takes a moment to quash the hope you feel when you realize he has an idea. “The contract–show me the contract! There must be a way to break it, there always is, and we can–”

“There’s no contract, Thay,” you answer wearily.

He seems to almost recoil in confusion. “No contract–as in you lost it?”

“As in there was never any contract. I just let her in, and she’s stayed ever since.”

“But–but that doesn’t make sense! What kind of devil–there has to be a contract, we just have to find it. It might take some time, but–”

“We don’t have time, Thay. She’s gonna wake up soon, and then she’ll want more souls.”

“Then give them to her! We live in Redroof, for Aroden's sake, surely you can find someone who won't be missed!”

It takes a moment for you to process–to understand what he wants you to do. When you understand, you have a moment of sickening clarity: there is something very wrong with Thay, and you've been making it worse. He’s been so twisted up inside that he’s starting to become like you. You need to leave for his sake as much as for the sake of the souls you'd have to reap to stay.

"I'm going to go tell Qweck,” you say as gently as you can, “so she knows to come see you. I don’t have much time, so I probably won’t be back before…yeah. I just want you to know…I’m so, so sorry for…for lying to you. For tricking you into helping me, and letting you think I maybe…might be….almost good somewhere deep fucking down. I’m so fucking sorry. And…And…” Oh, how these next words catch in your throat. “And I meant what I said back in Brastlewark. About why I couldn’t let you volunteer. I meant it. I fucking meant it, and if you don't believe anything else I’ve ever said–and I sure as shit haven’t given you much reason to–please, for the love of all that’s holy and good, please believe that.”

You allow yourself a moment–barely any time at all, just a moment–to look at him, and for this moment, and only this moment, you believe with all your heart that halflings are the luckiest of creatures, and you are the luckiest of halflings, because surely only the luckiest of the lucky ever behold beauty like this.

The moment passes. It's time to go. You hear his voice behind you, hear him sobbing, begging you to stay, but it's no use. You've already seen him for the last time. As much as you'd like to stay and stare at him forever, it's time to go.

You step out from the shade of the apartment into the brightness of your final day, and you don't look back.

#pwotr pals #oc: theoven derenge #oc: giliys #oc: qweck varnaj #the (totally platonic!) breakup arc #part 16

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ff7-has-taken-me-over · 2 years ago

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I’m back with another fun prompt before I hit you guys with angst (sorry <3) I had a lot of idea but I decided this one was more cute and funny. so an AU where soap is medic (he is still the same just is more medically knowledgeable) so one day gaz and ghost walk in to medic ( gaz did something stupid and got hurt ghost is there to make sure he doesn’t pass out on the way there) and they see soap and ghost man is mesmerized he literally stop and stares soap walks in and just starts curse at gaz for being back in his office so soon then he sees ghost and gives him a huge smile and promises he’ll take care of gaz and he’ll be fine (ghost is so in love he just nods his head and thanks him). the next victim is könig he cuts his arm and soap just takes care of him and he is just straight flustered he just thinks of the nice medic who help him (the band-aids are cute animals). now the last two are Alejandro and Rudy they got a bit hurt and soap see’s them and immediately tends to their wounds he hold Rudy face with cleaning his cuts(Rudy face is so red and doesn’t know how to speak).then he hold Alejandro hand to bandage it he just stared and flirts with him in Spanish (soap knows multiple languages due to being everywhere as a medic) soap laughs and just says “ you think I’m hot? You’re not bad yourself and don’t worry I always kiss a patient better then he kisses his hand. Alejandro is just in shock and cannot speak price saw that go down and while soap is helping him he just say” y’know how we been talking about you joining 141?” “Yeah why?” “Let’s rethink that”.

Sorry this one took my so long, I’ve been trying to finish off some fics that’ve been sitting in my computer for a year.

Anyway! I actually love the idea of Gaz getting sent to Soap’s med room so often that the two just know each other really well by now and Gaz looks at him, looks at his lieutenant and goes, “Yes. He’s gonna love him.”

And then starts the talking about either man to the other one. Ghost kind of gets over Gaz talking about this medic so often and finally decides to go see what all the fuss is about himself one day. One look at the man tending to a random soldier and Ghost has fallen hook, line and sinker.

So now Ghost takes every opportunity to go see the man, including the time he ‘had’ to go with Gaz to make sure the man didn’t pass out in a random hallway (because there totally weren’t other people that could’ve taken him and he was the only person available)

It’s probably the only proper interaction he’s actually had with the man and when Soap turns that bright grin and soft eyes on him and speaks without an ounce of fear? Simon swears he could melt into a puddle.

König only ends up in medical because his captain told him to, something about needing him in tip-top shape. He doesn’t understand why since it’s literally a scratch but he won’t disobey orders, even if they’re literally pointless.

Though when the Austrian walks through that door and the nice medic man smiles at him that brightly he doesn’t feel as annoyed anymore. Especially when he gets so worried over mere scratches and handles him as if he might actually hurt him with one wrong move.

Soap offers him a choice of three animal Band-Aid’s, giggle on his lips as König chooses the cat one, “It suits you quite well I reckon.”

And if König wears those bandaids with pride and makes sure they’re always on display? Well, nobody’s gonna bring that up with the giant lest they die.

Rodolfo and Alejandro hadn’t met the man yet, both having been on a mission that had gone just a little rougher than they had expected. When they get back they’re both a little reluctant to go to medical, the older lady that had last been there was rough in her proficiency and sometimes you came away with an extra injury you didn’t have before.

But they both walk in and Soap’s there, turning toward them with a smile that drops in favour of worry as he rushes over. He ushers them to sit before going about and collecting his equipment, deciding to tend to Rudy’s head wound first since it seemed a little more severe than Alejandro’s arm.

Soap talks the entire time, voice as soft as his hands and Rudy swears he’s about blow a fuse with how hot his face is getting. The man’s face is so close and he keeps shooting the other these reassuring smiles whenever Rudy finds himself tongue tied in the face of his questions.

Alejandro watches the whole thing with amusement because he’s positive that he’ll be able to pull off talking to the man better than his longtime friend has.

But then Soap’s taking his hand in his own, treating him the same as Rudy and Alejandro finds he can’t remember a damn thing about the English language. He rolls with it though, flustering only slightly as he flirts in Spanish even though he’s positive that Soap doesn’t speak the language. Maybe the man will sense the intention behind the words?

“You’re quite good looking yourself. Did you want me to kiss your wound better as well or just your friends face?” Rudy looks ready to combust with both the words and the sudden language change from the Scotsman, Alejandro not faring much better as he opens and closes his mouth.

Soap laughs at their faces and lord have mercy, they’re both ready to die for this man if he so much as asked it of them. Soap does keep his words, kissing Rudy just right of the cut along his brow while he kisses the back of Alejandro’s hand, just shy of where his injury ends.

The two end up staying in medical just a touch longer since they both fear they’ll pass out if they stand right that second.

Price either sees the interactions or he hears about them from Gaz and he’s honestly a little scared of what might happen if Soap were to actually join the 141 and go into battle with them. These men were willing to kill when Soap had a bad patient, he didn’t want to imagine what could possibly happen if the man got physically injured in any capacity.

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phoenix-nerd · 1 year ago

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So a little bit of a vent, I know I don't post on here often but I didn't know where else to put it. Now from here forward, I'm going to leave a trigger warning for the rest of this text: Disease, Near Death, Starvation, Bleeding, general hospital stuff, health-related issues, talk of death, mortality, etc.

For context, I've been struggling with my health for the past couple of years. I never really brought it up to anyone and I tried avoiding it to the best of my ability. I had no energy and was tired almost all the time. My stomach was in constant pain and I could never figure out why. That was up until a few months ago when I experienced my first flare-up. I started bleeding internally and I couldn't stomach anything. I couldn't eat and I didn't eat for a total of 34 days. I lost around 38 pounds in just a few weeks, I lost my ability to walk more than three feet without collapsing, I was vomiting and excreting blood, I developed a Bartholin's cyst, and so many more symptoms. I couldn't even ride in the car without being in constant pain from the movement. It got to the point that I could feel my body dying. I went to E.R. over 8 times, each time they were never helpful and asked invading questions relating to my past traumas. I even got turned away at the door of the main hospital I was a patient for. It wasn't until the last visit that I was finally hospitalized and sent to a hospital in a different city. They ran several tests on me and for my first week there I was essentially comatose. During my whole stay, I was hooked up to I.V.s and had to get a PICC line put in my arm. I had to get put under and had some very invasive operations done on me which I am not comfortable enough to disclose to anyone. After they disclosed to me that I have Crohn's disease. That's why I didn't have the energy to talk or hang out with anyone, that's why it hurt to eat and hurt to not, that's why certain foods and spices upset my body more than others. They also told me that during a flare-up, I get open sores all over the inside of my digestive system. From my mouth to the end, and because I wasn't hospitalized sooner, one of these sores tore open to another organ. I'm actually going to schedule surgery soon and terrified of it and want it to be over already. They also told me that Crohns has no cure. I relearned how to walk, I had to learn how to stomach solid food again, and I had to regain some weight. I was hospitalized for a little over half a month. I now also have to go in every month to get an I.V. infusion so this hopefully never happens again but it's never certain as flare-ups can be completely random. Crohns is also a disease that can worsen over time so I can't help but worry it'll happen or that my body may reject my treatment. I also discovered that I'm 10x more likely at risk to develop cancer and a mutation of the BRCA gene runs in my family, so while nothing confirmed as that'll all be in the future, it's still a worry for me that I might develop ovarian cancer as my life goes on. All in all, I'm terrified of the future and scared of dying. I don't want to be alone when this happens but I don't want to hurt people if I leave too soon. I know the reality of that might be slimmer in reality than in my head, but I can't help but worry. It also doesn't help that lately my hair's been falling out. I've been distant with people for so long because I wanted them to leave me thinking I was a bad friend than ever forcing them to face the trauma of losing a friend early. I know that one day I will pay the toll to the river Styx (if my family can even remember I'm pagan and to pay my way) and drink from the river Lethe, but I'm scared of Thanatos collecting my soul before I could fully live the life I want. I know I likely won't die of this disease, however, I can't but worry and feel like my world is crashing around me. If you've gotten this far, thank you. I needed to get this out of my system. This will be my first and last post like this. So the rest of my page will be filled with whatever fandom I'm into or whatever fanfic I'm reading. So yeah, more memes instead of depressing stuff like this lmao.

#vent post #personal vent

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hyperionshipping · 2 years ago

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So much bouncing in my head post s10 of Bones. Angst stuff under cut Bev don't look /srs you will cry

They REALLY fucking went hard on the casts feelings for Sweets. And you know what? My s/i wouldn't be left out from that.

When he hears the news his whole world just shatters. I don't know if he's near Hodgins at the time but if he isn't I think my s/i calmly says "oh. Okay." and goes back to work.

And he's fine. He's fine until Sweets shows back up in a body bag. And that's when my s/i just leaves. Hodgins goes after him but it's a nasty little fight. Hodgins goes to grab him and Wolfe flips out. Shoves him and says "don't you dare fucking touch me" and continues to say he can't be here anymore. He can't do this anymore.

He doesn't even care how hurt Hodgins looks. How worried. Hodgins still yells for Wolfe, begs him not to do anything stupid.

Wolfe shows up for the funeral. Barely. When they start to sing his song my s/i just bursts into tears all over again. A loud ugly sobbing as he turns away while they pour out Sweets' ashes. Someone comforts him, but I don't know who. No ones seen him cry like this.

Afterwards, he takes a long break from work. He tells Cam he needs bereavement leave or vacation, anything. Anything he has saved up. Of course, she lets him. She's worked with him for years. "It's no worry. Take all the time you need. You'll come back right?" and my s/i won't look at her but nods real slow.

He's gone for *a while*. Weeks at least. I think he's staying with Hodgins, Angela and Michael Vincent. Hodgins keeps waking up at night, hearing him cry in his sleep. And every night he comforts him till it stops, knowing it'll start back up in another hour or two.

When he comes back to work, Cam is only a little worried about how quickly he throws himself into work. But someone tells her to just let him. Keep him busy.

The first time Wolfe meets Aubrey it's... bad. Wolfe looks at him, and with a dead tone and cold eyes he just snarls out "YOU got my friend fucking killed. If it were up to me, you wouldn't be here. His recommendation or not. Watch your back." and Aubrey doesn't react much. Just nods and goes "I was told you're not super friendly first meeting. I'm taking you talking as a step in the right direction!"

The coldness stays, and at least once around others Wolfe lets it be known he thinks Aubrey is a shit replacement for Sweets. You won't ever get a new Sweets. Why has everyone just moved on?

It all comes full circle when Hodgins and Angela are discussing moving. Wolfe asks why they're leaving their friends, and he doesn't want to move, how will he see his friends? They can't just run away!! And Wolfe storms off when it isn't going how he needs it too.

He walks out of work and ends up back where they let Sweets go. He sits in the grass, and just screams before a whole new set of tears come out and he's begging to wake up. And thinking how no one should of let him go alone, he died cold, he wasn't held, this could've been stopped. And he's crying Sweets name, eyes closed knees hiked and hands in his buzzcut grabbing the slight growth.

The breeze is nice, it's warm and soft and the sun shines and for a brief moment while he cries for his friend, Wolfe swears he feels arms around him, and sees someone sit beside him and say "It's ok to cry Wolfe." and it sounds just like Sweets. And Wolfe looks up through his tears and it's a trick he knows it but he swears for a minute he saw Sweets beside him, a soft smile on his face and his eyes were still shining.

And as soon as he blinks, he's gone. He always was gone. And Wolfe just sobs again, coughing from how much he is. He stays in that spot till the sun starts to set. He's fully ready to stay there all night but he finally notices all the missed calls, the texts, and he remembers something Sweets told him. It feels so long ago. He should call everyone back.

But for just one last time, he calls Sweets' number to hear his voice. And then he sets his phone down, lays with his back against the grass and eyes to the sky and says "I'm really going to miss you Sweets. Listen to my voicemail okay? Send something back to let me know you're okay, okay? I just don't wanna worry."

#s/i: Bones #i have so many feelings. SO many. Sweets birthday kills him.#but anyway my s/i saved him actually and sweets quit fbi work #my s/i can have some.of .y denial. he replays hearing Sweets is dead like it didnt happen. And the dreaming abt a dead loved one/family me #mber

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mazegays · 1 year ago

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could have followed my fears all the way down

Chapter 10

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 11, 12

This is getting ridiculous. He’d like to wake up once this week without something being wrong.

Is that too much to ask for?

“Yes. You have one more day to wake up with something being wrong, and I fully expect you to wake up with something being wrong.” Harriet’s right next to his head.

“What is it this time?” He asks, not bothering to open his eyes.

“Your head. You probably hit it against something last night, because the cut opened a little. It wouldn’t have been bleeding when you woke up, so you probably didn’t notice.”

“I had a headache, but that went away almost as soon as I noticed it, so I didn’t think anything of it.”

“Fair enough.” He finally looks at her.

“Who’s outside and how mad are they?”

She grins. “Gally, Minho, Sonya, Brenda, and Frypan left food. You’re not allowed on kitchen duty for a few days and I think he’s gonna miss you.”

“What am I allowed to do, then?”

“You can help Sonya! There are plenty of things you can do in the greenhouse sitting down.”

“Does Anya think this might be something more than what it seems?” He’s almost scared to ask.

“She took a blood sample to see if you’ve got an infection or something, but not really. Head wounds are tricky. You’ve had a weird week, Thomas.”

“You’re right about that. Is it bad that I’d rather just go back to sleep instead of seeing anyone?”

“No. Anya said you had to eat when you woke up, so have some of this first.” It’s now-cold toast with strawberry jam and bacon.

“How long was I out?” The medical cabin doesn’t have windows, for the patient’s privacy.

“Only a couple of hours. It’s not even dinner time yet. If you’re up before everyone goes to bed, you’ll probably be okay to head back to your cabin. If not, you can sleep in here.”

“I’ve done that more than anyone else, I think.”

“Yeah, but you have the worst luck of anyone I know. If you ask Group A, it’s 'cause you’re an idiot.”

Thomas splits one of the toasts with Harriet. She keeps having to watch over him instead of actually learning anything new or enjoying herself.

“I’ll go tell them you want to rest.” Harriet swings her legs off her chair. “You go back to sleep, or whatever it is you do when no one’s there to make sure you don’t get hurt.”

“Very funny, Harriet.” He catches a little of what’s said outside, but he doesn’t try to listen.

Thomas wants to be done with injuries, done with terrible things coming back up. Done with talks with Jamie and worrying about everything every minute.

There’s a reason he’s not going to check his files, even if everyone else does.

It’s just another thing to worry about.

finish on ao3 or continue under the cut

The next few days, spent in the greenhouse with Sonya, are normal. No passing out, no injuries, no supply runs.

“When are they going to take that off?” She gestures to his head.

“It wasn’t deep enough for stitches, but since it opened back up the other day, Anya wants to wait until it’s more healed.” The greenhouse isn’t… boring, exactly. There’s always something that needs to be done, but Thomas can’t do most of it. He’s supposed to sit and dig holes and put plants into the holes and repeat that a million times.

Okay, he’s bored.

He wants to run, but Anya might actually tie him down if he does. That would be worse than gardening.

“Sonya,” He starts, “Please don’t be offended, but I’m bored. I need to do something else.”

“I was wondering when you’d say that.” She offers him a hand up. “I’ve got something. Cleared by Anya and everything.” She brings him to the far corner of the greenhouse. “These are saplings.”

“No, I thought we could fit fully grown trees in here.” She smacks him on the arm.

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“We don’t know where to put them.” He stares at her. They have a whole forest right there.

“You do know we have a forest, right?”

“I do know that. But we want these up around the common house and everything. You get to figure out where the best places for them would be!”

“Do I get a map?” She points out a small table with a large sheet of paper and pencils.

“They’re grouped by type, so maybe don’t put them all in the same area?”

“I can figure it out, Sonya.” He wants to roll his eyes, but Sonya’s not doing anything wrong, he’s just in a mood.

It’s not much better than digging holes, but it’s something. He actually has to think about what he’s doing.

He can’t put anything too close to the firepits, but he can put a patterned row—oak, elm, and birch—around the common house, with breaks for the doors. The kids’ building isn’t finished yet, but a few can go around that, too. Frypan won’t be pleased with any too close to the kitchens. They have other types, too, but he thinks those will go best in those places. Spruces will get too big, so he’ll have to find somewhere else for those.

They’ll have to check if anyone wants a specific type, but the trees can also surround cabins.

He’s planned for forty in the main areas; they’ve got at least 200 hundred saplings in here.

He marks a few other common spots that might be good planting places, and then maps out six trees for each cabin. Most of them face the forest in the back anyway, so the front and sides each get two.

“Having fun?” Gally sounds far too amused.

“Well, I did plan out all of our trees.” He shows Gally the map, now marked with little symbols everywhere. “Look okay?”

“Have you been doing this all day?”

“Only this afternoon. Digging holes all day gets boring.”

“It looks good, I don’t think anything would interfere with new buildings or anything. The cabins are a good idea, if people want trees around their cabins. Come on, it’s time for dinner. You can work on your trees more tomorrow.”

“Actually… I was wondering if we could go somewhere tomorrow.”

“Where? The river?”

“Or even just out into the woods. Sonya’s told me there are some clearings nearby. I need to do something different, Gally. I can’t sit here all day.”

“Sure. Minho and I wanted to talk to you, too.”

About what? Sure, the three of them have been spending more time together lately. Gally and Minho weren’t close in the Glade, but they were both there for years, it makes sense that they’d be more friendly now.

Now that almost everyone else was gone.

Nope. Not going there. Not right now. Now he needs to get dinner with Gally and their friends, and plan what they’re going to do tomorrow.

“Thomas,” Gally shakes him lightly. “You zoned out on me, shank. Something wrong?”

“Just thinking.” What are Gally and Minho going to tell him? Is it good? Bad? Is one of them dying? Is he dying?

No, Anya would have told him that. Probably.

No one’s dying, and he’ll find out tomorrow. Worrying now won’t help him.

…Yeah, he’s going to worry anyway.

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the-firebird69 · 2 years ago

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I'm missing my husband and he knows that he's accomplished now and it's going to be finalized shortly and the goofballs actually start going out there again no it's in Pennsylvania and they're trying to get stuff from the upper Midwest not really. They have molds meaning they have the designs for it so they just lower the computer and make a mould and it takes a day. It's going to be a wonderful time and I'm so pleased he's working he's very happy I'm helping him and I'm there for him and then I'm his lady and he's going to try and make me happy all the time every minute of the day and it's also going to be tracking me he says, so I'm laughing cuz I'm always tracking him but he's an insane person and I know about it and we get along he won't hurt me or anything like these he's one of us and he knows the penalty is horrible so we have to make sure what I'm doing I do love him very much and I would miss him greatly if something happened right now they're increasing the threats on him and we need people here and Max need to do the job and we can issue stuff so they can issue warrants we've had it with them and the max have had it with them and soon they're going to be out a huge number died up north a giant number is heading south the Midwest will have some in it and they're going to be emptied out today well tonight and tomorrow completely and they came down south and they're in the golf and they're fighting in the South and all dying and pretty much you're going to be gone shortly and they'll be gone in Mexico and the movie will begin War of the worlds and yes his grandpa goes up there as kazzrr to Canada and so does Sherry and others and it makes sense no we're moving cities afterwards well we have to move them and take stuff out and we need to mind and do all sorts of things and we don't need those cities in the way and we are moving them somewhere and for direction of Max and we told him we'll reach so far we think and they said okay and so they're making another civilization kind of and taking it over and cleaning it up and it said we did a decent job cuz it comes intact. Here's what I say this is so fun my husband is so good at this and we're having a lot of fun but I want it back with me and I'm missing him and he's missing me he's sad cuz he can't leave and he can't get away from this idiot and they're dangerous and mean to him that's bothering me but I'm okay I'll get through it

Hera

And I know you feel good now it's going to wear it's going to do more work and you'll feel better and eventually he won't be around but they'll be a new pyria and we will take it on together and without Olympus we won't win and we will have them by our side and behind us the whole time and it will be wondrous and their dream that they've had for thousands of years and we're sharing it but I do miss you too it's difficult but I'm going to help you even if you feel bad again but I'm doing something or being there for you when you need me

Zues

Now that's what a husband should sound like and you do and you're doing the work now and I understand what you're saying I'm going to do this and I feel great right now it might not last because there's more work to be done but it's a major milestone in my mind and my dream is for my people to be free in my area they may not be free completely but our area is and I love it

Hera

He says you are all over the missile thing and it saves us a lot of time and energy and did a lot of work for us and it postponed some things happening that we needed postponed as right now we are evacuating ours and we're probably all out of there but we're going to make sure until the event and when it happens the rest of them are going to be gone that's another 10 to 20 million yes including cloning and the rest of the middle areas are similar in nature and it will happen to them and there are a few other people but mostly it's them and they'll be out right now there's five Islands left the rest are gone because of the clones and the clones are not occupying them they left and they're fighting over other things the clothes are going to be gone too soon the numbers are not that low but they will be and aside from the five Islands they have 10 areas and they are intermingled eight of those are the upper Midwest type areas three of those are gone the others are dropping now and the gas is killing all of them and they can't escape and they don't have a means to and they'll be gone and I'm understanding this now four are gone out of the 8th and now five and they are going to evacuate South and join the fighting soon will be all eight and really all they'll have left are a few Islands and about 10 intermittent areas and those are starting to heat up now and people want them out as as a number by comparison to the general population it's probably one out of a million coming up and soon it's going to be worse and they will not ever exist again

Thor Freya

I did say the last part and they are horrible horrible people it's going on now that they're not wanted here

Hera

Zues

Olympus

We're going to push them out we realize what you're saying there's a big event with Jason going to New Mexico we have a big fight there but there's some things that are happening first and first things first we're pushing them out of the East Coast and they did stop coming from the upper Midwest and it's a relief and they're coming from the Midwest to the South and they are being eliminated a lot of them are drowning cuz their boats are terrible and some of them are big and we're hitting them and they're not going to make it tons of them are streaming down and automobiles and trying to get here and we're stopping them and this protesting here and we're going after them and there's not many left and the flotilla is gone they're trying to come over here foreigners and us are eliminating them and pretty soon they're going to be out fully the upper areas are going to be gone momentarily and they will come down to the South and battle and they will lose. The pockets are almost all gone and the areas in the cities are embroiled because they stole stuff and they keep harming people and they're claiming it too and telling people what they did and they're dying they're ridiculous they don't listen to anything or anyone and they shall in the end and we're going to put them on trial in front of everyone

Mac daddy

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lillywillow · 2 years ago

Text

Aphrodite

Summary: You feel uncomfortable in everything you own. Luckily, your boyfriend’s jacket fits you perfectly

Written for: @buckybarnesbingo

Words: 1261

Square Filled: U4- Boyfriend Jacket

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus Sized!Female Reader

Warnings: Body issues, mild adult themes

For a while now, you had been feeling uncomfortable in your clothes. Everything you put on felt tight or twisted up in all the wrong places but ever since you started stealing Bucky’s jacket, those things didn’t matter. Whenever you were wearing it, you felt so much better. The warmth you felt didn’t just come from the garment itself but whenever Bucky caught you in it. Feeling his eyes on you made you feel confident, beautiful and loved. Bucky told you how much he adored seeing you in it and how gorgeous he thought you were. You loved that man so much.

…

You were in the kitchen wearing Bucky’s jacket, grabbing yourself a snack.

“Don’t you think it’s time you gave your poor boyfriend his jacket back?” Nat mused from behind you.

“Nope. Mine now,” you grinned. “Besides, it’s the only thing that fits me nowadays…”

“If you want, I can take you shopping,” Nat offered.

“Thanks, Nat, but I think I’ll pass,” you sighed, sitting down to eat.

“Everything alright?” Nat asked, picking up on something in your voice.

“I don’t really like clothes shopping. The last time I went, I nearly got stuck in something and almost burst into tears in the dressing room… The salespeople always make me feel so insecure and forget about buying pretty underwear. They all seem to think that if you’re beyond a certain size, you don’t deserve anything outside of plain white, black or beige…”

Bucky heard your every word. It hurt him to think that you felt this way. He wished that he could take every flaw you saw in yourself and turn them into how he saw you.

“You know, Nat… Whenever I wear Bucky’s jacket, all of that goes away. It smells like him and it feels like he’s hugging me… Whenever he looks at me in his jacket, it makes me feel… like I’m the only woman in the world that matters to him. Some days, I can’t believe that Adonis chose me…”

Bucky walked up behind you and kissed the top of your head.

“Hi, beautiful,” he smiled, pecking your lips.

“Hi, handsome. We were just talking about you.”

“Really? Nothing bad I hope,” he smirked, like he hadn’t just been listening in.

“I was just telling Nat how lucky I am to have a boyfriend like you.”

Bucky kissed you deeply, sending butterflies to the pit of your stomach. It was one of those kisses that took your breath away and made you glad to be a woman... specifically Bucky’s woman.

“Have I told you how gorgeous you look in my jacket?” he panted when he pulled away.

“Not today,” you purred.

“Well let’s fix that…”

Bucky kissed you again, pulling you close to his body.

“Guys, this is a kitchen. People eat here,” Nat teased.

You felt the heat rush to your face as you pulled away.

“I have to go shopping with Sam but I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay, baby,” you smiled, giving another peck on the lips.

Bucky smiled back and headed off.

…

After an hour of going store to store with Sam, Bucky was starting to feel tired and grumpy. Sam wanted to find the perfect gift for his nephew’s birthday while also staying within his sister’s restrictions. Finally, they found something for the boy but as they were about to go home, one store in particular caught Bucky’s eye… a lingerie store specific to plus size women.

“I’m need to get something. I’ll catch up with you soon…”

“Okay, man. I’m going to get something to eat at the food court,” Sam shrugged, heading off.

Bucky nodded and waited for him to go out of eyesight before going into the shop. Inside, there was so much to look at. Bra, underwear and other frilly intimates made from lace, satin and cotton. They came in a variety of colours from sinful sangria to a more subdued soft cotton candy.

“Hello, how may I help you?” the saleswoman greeted.

“Hi. Um… I’m looking for something for my girlfriend. She’s been feeling pretty down about herself lately and I just wanted to get her something to make her feel pretty… I mean, to me she’s a total goddess but I just… I want to get her something to help her see that…"

The saleswoman smiled warmly at him.

“I can help you pick something. Follow me…”

Bucky told her your sizes and she assisted him in getting you something that was as stunning as you were.

…

When Bucky came home, he found you still in his jacket watching a movie on the couch.

“Hey, doll,” he smiled, sitting next to you on the couch.

“Hi, handsome. How was shopping?” you asked, instantly curling up to him.

“It was alright. I got you a little something…”

“You did?”

Bucky gave you the fancy bag which was stuffed with cream tissue paper. Curios, you sifted through to find the contents. You pulled out the three sets Bucky had bought. The first was a lovely babydoll with bows, lace and matching underwear in your favourite colour. The second was a silky nightie that could be worn with the underwear from the babydoll set. The third was a practical set that was still pretty while suiting your skin-tone. It also matched with Bucky’s jacket.

“Bucky, why did you get these for me? I mean, they’re beautiful but…”

You trailed off, feeling those insecurities take hold of you again.

“Like you. Y/N, I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, especially when you’re wearing my jacket but I wanted to get you something that made you feel that way… If you’re really not comfortable, I can take them back…”

You looked at the items Bucky had bought. He really must have put a lot of thought about this and it made you smile.

“I love them, Bucky. How about I give you a little fashion show?” you purred.

“I like the sound of that,” he smirked.

…

Bucky waited on the outside of your door as you put on one of the new things he bought. You decided on just the ordinary set, putting on the jacket. It kind of felt like a suit of armour but as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you felt like you maybe didn’t need it in that sense. The set felt comfortably and you felt, well… hot. All those little things that normally bothered you didn’t seem so bad because you were wearing something of the man you loved and something that he picked out just for you.

“How are you doing in there, doll?” Bucky asked from the other side of the door.

“You can come in now,” you chimed.

When Bucky walked in, his jaw dropped.

“What do you think?” you giggled, giving a twirl.

“Venus herself would be jealous… I knew I’d love it but the jacket really puts it above and beyond…”

You really, truly believed his words.

“How about I show you the others?”

“You can… after I’m done enjoying this one.”

You laughed as Bucky pounced on you, holding you close. As long as you had Bucky and his jacket, you felt like the most beautiful woman in the world. You couldn’t wait to go shopping with him next time.

#bbb2022 #buckybarnesbingo2022 #Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #plus size reader #boyfriend jacket #aphrodite

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purple-babygirl · 3 years ago

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hi im not sure if you’re taking requests so you can ignore this if you’d like, but i really liked your mafia bucky fic !! and i was wondering if you could do one where maybe someone breaks into the house and the reader has to force themselves to be big for a little bit just so they can fight them off and then she runs to the little safe room and goes little there and Bucky finds her there and comforts her and it’s just all fluffy? sorry if this is so specific i just loved the last fic sm 😅

Pairing: Mafia!Daddy!Bucky Barnes x f!little!reader

Word count: 1,958

Warnings: reader gets attacked (includes harassment and mentions of violence, cursing, guns), reader gets hurt, mentions of killing, Bucky's softness (yes it's a warning), ddlg dynamics.

A/N: I've been holding onto this one for forever now I'm really sorry for taking so long, dear nonnie🥺 it means the world to me that you liked mafia!daddy!bucky and i hope i delivered with this one and that you like it as much, love. Please enjoy ily xx💜

safe

You’re a big girl.

You’re a big girl. You can do this.

It all happened too fast. She woke up to guns shooting, Bucky’s men yelling at each other before all the voices suddenly stopped and the door to their bedroom was violently kicked open.

She didn’t even have time to scream before she was dragged from under the large bed by her ankle.

You’re a big girl.

You’re a big girl. Just like Daddy taught you.

“Let go! You don’t wanna do this!” she shrieked, warning the person trying to snatch her off the floor, her leg kicking as she struggled to flee his vice-like hold.

She’d suddenly forgotten every single self-defense move Bucky has ever taught her and was thrashing in panic.

“Oh, I don’t?” the man laughed, his grip painful on her limb as he tried to get on top of her.

She screamed when he dug his fingernails in the flesh of her shin, forcing her legs apart.

“Such a delicate little thing.” He licked his lips when he drew blood, running his gun up her bare leg, pressing down when it reached her inner thigh, “beg me to let you go.”

The words infuriated her big self. If Bucky had taught her one thing that she could never forget it was how dear and precious she was.

“Do you know who my man is?” Her free foot collided with the intruder’s chin, hitting him just right for his teeth to slam together, making him groan and loosen his grasp.

“I beg no one for nothing.” She spat, clumsily standing up, rushing inside Bucky’s large walk-in closet.

“You’re gonna regret that, you little bitch!” The masked man threatened, banging his fist on the door, “I’m gonna make that man of yours weep blood over your dead slut body!”

Her breath was coming out in puffs as tears blurred her vision. With trembling fingers, she moved Bucky’s hung-up suits to the side, revealing the metal door to the panic room.

You’re a big girl.

You’re a big girl. Just a bit longer.

She could hear the man take a few steps back and she knew he was going to shoot the closet open. Her shaky fingers pushed the buttons and typed the number code, the date of the day Bucky had asked her to be his.

I feel safe knowing I have you, angel, so it’s only fit that we make it the safe room code, he'd told her with a playful shrug.

She slid inside as soon as the door moved, pushing her back against the concrete wall, trying to take her breath. The door clicked shut right before the wooden one to the closet was thrown open.

You’re a big girl.

You’re a big girl. You got this.

She let out a relieved sigh that broke into a sob as she tiredly slid down the wall, still hearing the scary man curse, bang and shoot on the safe room door.

Where was Bucky? She couldn’t hold on any longer. This wasn’t a situation she wanted to be present in. Her body started folding up, taking fetal position as her mind led her to the safer side against her better will. Even her fists closed upon themselves, tears leaving her eyes and traveling down the bridge of her nose. She was losing consciousness of her present surroundings, pictures of Bucky’s eyes spreading in her vision instead of the dull, grey walls of the room.

She was crying too loudly to hear the firing of Bucky’s gun right outside the door or the peeping of the door as it slid open once again.

“Angel!” Bucky’s voice sounded so distant. She felt like she was drowning with how muffled his calls were to her ears.

Seeing her body shake with sobs on the floor like that made Bucky want to walk out and shoot the man’s dead body again and again until he couldn’t be identified.

How dare they send someone here? How dare they violate the sanctity of his home? They were certainly not going to live another day to repeat or repent from their sins.

“Angel, are you hurt?” He kneeled beside her, gently untangling her limbs to check if she was wounded anywhere.

Aside from a couple of nasty scratches by her ankle, she was physically okay and Bucky could breathe a little better as his body sagged on the floor.

He swallowed and lifted her on his lap, signaling his men to leave when they stepped in the room to check if they were needed after ‘cleaning up’.

“Get me water.” Was all he said and they were running to the nearest fridge.

“I’m sorry, my angel. I’m here now. You’re okay.” Bucky mumbled, lips hovering over her temple.

“Dada.” Her body leaned into his warmth but her cries didn’t stop and Bucky could only hold her closer as he tried not to let guilt rip him apart.

She was like that now because of him. Had he been a normal man with a normal life, she would’ve been safer. She didn’t deserve to be startled awake only to be chased by a criminal in the middle of the night. She didn’t deserve any of the bullshit that hit her because she was with Bucky.

He kept planting kiss after kiss to her head, wishing he could go back and be there to protect her.

“Shh, you’re okay, my angel. You’re safe,” he kept telling her as he supported himself up with her in his arms.

Her cries were dying down and she was getting comfier in Bucky’s protective hold, fingers digging in his shoulders afraid he would leave again.

“Please, calm down, baby. I’m here. No one can hurt you, angel.” Bucky took her out and to the bathroom so he could take a look at her leg.

“Baby, are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked after sitting her down on the cold counter.

Instead of answering, she pressed her forehead to his chest and kept sniveling, hands clutching Bucky’s jacket. She wasn’t ready for him to let her go yet. She may be too far gone but her body knew it needed to be close to Bucky’s.

“Baby, please come back to me,” Bucky begged, tears threatening to spill from his once hard, cold eyes.

“Angel,” his thumb brushed her cheek and she finally looked up to him.

“Dada, I was so scared.” She sobbed, shaking at the memory.

“I’m sorry, my angel.” Bucky pressed his lips to her forehead, “I’m here with you, baby. No need to be scared anymore.”

“That man- he-” she hiccupped.

“You’re okay, angel. Breathe.” Bucky stroked her back warmly as she buried her face in his chest again.

He took the bottle of water from one of his men, waving him out of the bathroom.

“Here, baby, drink some water.”

She wouldn’t move. She just wanted to be close to Daddy. She was scared and Bucky was safety. He was home.

“For me, baby. Just a tiny sip.” Bucky twisted the bottle cap open, gently cupping her cheek to coax her away from his body.

His heart swelled when she leaned her damp cheek on his palm, enjoying the warmth. Her smaller hand cupped his and her eyes closed, her face further pressed into Bucky’s hand as a soft sigh escaped her lips.

Bucky bit his lip, holding back the waterworks. He should’ve been here; should’ve prevented it all from happening. His thumb brushed her chin and she opened her eyes.

“Drink a little, angel.” Bucky offered a kind smile.

She nodded, sitting up straighter, her lashes wet with tears as she looked up to Bucky, her gaze holding no blame.

He brought the bottle to her lips and she gulped down, the chilled water soothing her sore throat.

“Better?” Bucky cocked his head to the side and she nodded, sniffing.

Bucky bowed, holding his forehead against hers. He just wanted to feel her breathe soundly; wanted to make his mind stop telling him he almost lost her forever.

“Dada.”

“Yes, my angel.” Bucky pecked her lips.

“My leg hurts.” Her voice was awfully small as she pointed to the burning scratches ruining her beautiful skin. Bucky wished he could hide her between his ribs in place of his heart.

“Daddy’s got you, angel.”

Bucky cleaned her wound, apologizing with a kiss to her cheek every time she hissed. He had her tell him what happened to distract her and it worked. She wanted him to be proud so much she eagerly told him all about kicking the bad man. Tears gathered in her eyes once again when he applied ointment but she continued with her story, Bucky’s smile keeping her calm.

“Angel, you were so brave! I’m so proud of you, baby.” Bucky kissed her bandaged leg, “how did you do that?!”

“Kept thinkin’ dada thoughts.” She hugged Bucky again.

Bucky was a puddle on the bathroom floor. She was telling him she was brave like that because she was thinking of him through it all. He adored her so much he didn’t know who he was if not her man.

“I promise this is the last time you would ever have to go through anything like that,” Bucky assured, chuckling lovingly when she squeezed him harder and nodded.

She believed Bucky. She knew he could keep her safe. This wasn’t a usual occurrence, Bucky’s always made sure she was protected. She had no doubt anything would change. She trusted her Daddy with all her heart.

Bucky knew that and it scared him to death. He was scared one day he might not be up to the trust she’d put in him. He feared disappointing her; not being there for her in time. He was terrified a day would come where he might let her down.

“Never again. You’re safe, my angel. You’re always safe with me.”

Bucky’s soft lips placed a languishing kiss to her forehead. Her eyes were next, Bucky kissed her eyelids and under her eyes. Then he left wet kisses on both cheeks before pecking her nose. She smiled shyly when he pressed his mouth to the corner of hers.

“I love you, angel,” Bucky whispered against her lips before kissing her.

Bucky carried her back to their bed. The room was organized again, nothing was out of place and she was in Daddy’s arms. She was safe once more.

Bucky held her to his chest all night, his mind too loud to let him fall asleep. She went back to bed almost immediately though. Bucky’s presence was all it really took for her to feel peaceful enough to close her eyes and dream again.

When she moved out of his embrace in her sleep, Bucky carefully left the room and went to his office to review the security cameras footage. He knew watching the attack would make his blood boil again but he had to see what happened and how the unlucky asshole got inside his mansion.

While she already told him she’d defended herself, Bucky was the proudest seeing it unfold on the screen.

“Do you know who my man is?... I beg no one.”

The words brought the largest smile to Bucky’s lips. He was so proud of his angel; so amazed by her courage. He thought he couldn’t love her any more than he already did and he was wrong. His heart has picked the right girl and for that he was grateful. Bucky took one last look at the shining ring in his top drawer before shutting it and walking back to continue cuddling his precious sweetheart.

Tags: @harrysthiccthighss, @tinystudentfirepurse, @lavendercitizen

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disdaidal · 2 years ago

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Mungrove headcanon for ya: Eddie straight up serenades Billy because he knows Billy is a sappy motherfucker and he loves seeing Billy lose his shit over it every time.

Okay but I totally love this one!

It's one of those days when Billy's really angry and upset because things aren't going his way, and he's just collapsed on Eddie's bed, giving his pillow a few good punches before resting his angry little head on it.

Eddie's tried talking to him but Billy isn't budging. Only muttering short answers like 'it's nothing', 'm fine', 'just shut up'. And Eddie's frustrated and not having it this time because this might be his boyfriend, but he's sulking on Eddie's bed, listening to Eddie's records and not talking to his-boyfriend-Eddie.

Standing helpless at the doorway, out of options, and wanting to get a reaction from Billy somehow, Eddie suddenly bursts into a song.

Loudly.

Totally out of tune.

But he's singing to Billy.

He grabs his guitar from the wall, then sits down on the bed beside Billy, starting to play a melody that's been stuck in his head for the past two weeks.

"Billy, oh Billy, why so dreary~" Making up the lyrics as he goes. "I'd walk miles to see you smile again~"

Billy groans and throws the pillow over his head, trying to muffle it.

"My baby's so angry, so sad, don't know why~" Eddie's voice grows louder and he's now strumming his guitar like he really means it. "All I wanna see is his pretty face, but he's hiding under my pillow~"

Billy rewards Eddie with a little kick on his side. It only spurs Eddie on. "But my baby's got attitude~! Oh, he's got attitude! A spicy little thing, oh, so spicy, oh Billy~"

"Shut the fuck up," Billy mutters under the pillow. Eddie actually grins at that, pretending doesn't hear it. He leans a little closer to Billy, intently looking at his boy while he keeps on singing and playing his guitar. "But he's my baby, pretty little baby, wanna make him happy, but he's gotta tell me what's wrong, so I can give him the world, give him all he wants, all he needs, but he's gotta tell me~"

At that, Billy finally shakes. And shudders.

It makes Eddie stop strumming and singing. A look of concern quickly spreads across his face as he hesitantly puts his hand on the small of Billy's back.

Billy's crying. For the first time during their relationship, Eddie's actually seeing him cry.

He used to make Billy smile with his music. With his silly serenades. Eddie used to cheer him up with his music - no matter how many times Billy had told him to shove it.

Eddie slowly learned which buttons to push to make Billy smile, even laugh out loud.

"What's wrong, baby? Was my song really that bad? Did that make you cry?"

Still trying to cheer Billy up, though with caution now. Eddie doesn't want to hurt Billy, nor does he wants Billy hurting him back.

"Shut up," Billy soon retorts, and consequently, Eddie's heart sinks a little. He can take a lot; he's grown used to being insulted and pushed around and away. Also knowing that Billy can be a handful at times.

But before Eddie can respond, Billy's grabbing his arm and pulls him closer. Eddie nearly dropping the guitar on his lap and gives a little yelp a little as he lands down on the mattress next to Billy.

Billy's fingers swiftly find Eddie's chin, and their lips meet in a messy kiss. It tastes like cigarettes and mint bubblegum and salty with Billy's tears. Eddie moans into it just a little bit and instantly feels guilty because his boyfriend is obviously not okay right now.

When Billy finally pulls away from Eddie, he rests his head on his shoulder and nuzzles his face against Eddie's neck. Then rests his hand on Eddie's chest, clutching at his shirt softly.

Eddie responds by placing his hand on Billy's hip, feeling quite affectionate and lovesick at the moment, but also confused as hell. He wants to know what's going and he's not going to let Billy to fall into another depressive, no-talking mood of his.

So he turns his head and stares at Billy.

"Wanna tell me what's going on?"

Billy sniffles and stubbornly ignores Eddie's question again.

"Billy, please talk to me. Don't go quiet on me, baby."

It takes a minute or two for Billy to finally open up. His voice hoarse and yet so soft at the same time. "It's my fucking dad, alright? I went to see Max like I told ya I would. So my dad threw a fit over something stupid, called me names and a bunch of other stuff and just... fucking--"

"Shh," Eddie hushes him, feeling protective, and gently pulls the blond closer to him. "It's okay, Billy."

"It's not fucking okay."

"Okay, it's not totally okay. Your dad's a douche. You and Max deserve better. You're right to be angry," Eddie confirms and wipes his thumb along Billy's wet cheek. "But I really mean it, Billy. I'm here for you. Wayne's here for you. You're always welcome, both of you. You and Max." He kisses Billy's forehead, to emphasize his words. "I really, really love you, Billy."

It takes another few minutes for Billy to soak that all in. To truly appreciate Eddie's words - the devotion and kindness behind them. Something he's not used to and something he tried to deny for so long, to fight back. But he wants to believe it and he wants to accept it. Little by little.

It feels like a long few minutes, and Eddie's already closed his eyes. Lulled by the closeness of Billy, his sweet and masculine scent; the warmth of their bodies pressed together.

"I liked it, by the way."

Eddie slowly opens his eyes and drowsily turns to look at Billy. "Huh?

"Your stupid song. I liked it."

A lazy grin then spreads across Eddie's features. "Oh yeah?" His arm snakes around Billy's upper body, pulling the other man even closer. Billy throws a leg around Eddie's hip, then grinds himself slowly against the other man. "I mean it sounded absolutely horrendous and totally out of key but I still kind of liked it. If you worked on it a little more, it might even turn me on."

"Damn." Eddie slides his hand from Billy's back on his ass, giving it a small appreciative squeeze. God, he really loves that ass. And this angry little asshole wrapped in his arms. "Coming from you, that's like a love confession."

"Suck my dick, Munson."

"If you'll let me."

"Oh, I will," Billy shoves Eddie off then straddles him while pinning his wrists down on the mattress. "But first, I wanna hear you scream."

"More love songs?" Eddie grins.

Billy smirks back and then leans down for another kiss.

"Maybe later."

#replies #namorian #mungrove #eddie x billy #mungrove headcanons #my writing #ficlet #a little bit sappy a little bit spicy hehe

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vendettaparker · 3 years ago

Text

Reckless [T.H]

Summary: In a fit of jealousy, Tom embarrasses you in front of your new friend and the entire pub, leaving you heartbroken at his reckless actions.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Swearing, angst, slut-shaming

a/n: hi! sorry this took so so so long for me to get out! i got super busy with other works, but i’m super happy with how this turned out :) i hope you enjoy this, and don’t worry, i know how scary those warnings look ^ but this ends happy, i promise! as always, comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Tom was an idiot. He was an actual fucking idiot. He now realizes that as he watches you run out of the pub with hot tears streaming down your face. He watches as Harry runs after you, your bag in his hand, probably to make sure you make it back home safe since there was no way you’d return to the crowded bar, where Harrison and Sam were giving Tom death glares, the same little pub where Tom had made a complete fool out of you.

The few months Tom came home to London were always the setting of your most cherished memories. Sometimes it seemed like when he left so did the whole group of friends you surround yourself with.

There was no doubt in your mind that Tom was the life of the party. He had a certain aura about him that caused some of the most fucked up, but amazing situations to occur. That was probably one of the reasons you loved him so much.

When he was in town, his brothers, Harrison, and Tuwaine all joined together to make the next few months memorable before he had to leave again, and you were always included, but when he was gone, Harry usually went with him, Harrison focused on work for himself, and Sam focused on his restaurant. The world slowed down after Tom left, and so many times, you were left to wait for his return; alone.

Tom hated leaving you behind every time he went back to the states, but you had such deep roots in London, he didn’t want to pry you from your family for months on end. He loved you too much to constantly subject you to his hectic lifestyle. He spent as much time with you as he could when he saw you, but the second he had to go, it was all tearful goodbyes in a crowded airport.

You and Tom had been best friends for decades at this point. You supported him no matter what it was that he wanted to accomplish. He’s even said in interviews that he credits a huge bulk of his success to his friend back home, then he’d give a wink to the camera, and you always knew it was for you.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

When Tom came home after filming Spider-Man: No Way Home, you practically tackled him to the ground in a hug.

“You div,” You mumbled into his neck, “you forgot to let me FaceTime with Zendaya.”

“Oh, shit!” Tom gasped, finally remembering your request to talk to your favorite actress, “my bad.”

You looked at Tom incredulously, “I don’t think I can be friends with you anymore.” You feigned hurt, clutching your hand to your chest, “it just hurts too much.”

“That’s a damn shame,” Tom frowned, “I mean, I could just FaceTime Zendaya now, but if that’s how you—”

“I changed my mind,” You smiled sweetly, cutting him off, “love you, bestie.”

Tom rolled his eyes and pulled you into another hug, “Missed you, bestie.”

“Um,” Sam, Paddy, and Harrison stood behind you, clearing their throats.

“Missed you guys too,” Tom sighed, and he rushed over and gave his brothers and friend a hug.

You gave Harry a hug while Tom chatted with his brothers, quickly catching up with him.

“What’s the plan for tonight, guys?” You spoke up.

Every night after Tom got back, he’d go back to his flat and take a nap before a night out on the town. Usually, you’d bar hop a bit before going to a club, so tonight wasn’t likely to be any different.

“I was thinking we could get dinner at Lorenzo’s,” Harry said, “then maybe hit the pub on Ashford?”

You and the others nodded in agreement as you made your way out of the airport.

“Can I invite my friend Avery?” You asked.

Tom nodded, “Sure, I didn’t even know you had any other friends, (Y/N),” he joked.

“Haha,” You laughed sarcastically, “gee that was a good one, Tom. You really got me.”

“What can I say?” He smirked, “I’m a comedian.”

“Is that the guy you met in your philosophy lecture?” Harrison butt in.

“Yeah,” You nodded, “he’s really sweet, so be on your best behavior guys, and maybe don’t be yourselves, just this once?” you suggested with a slightly teasing tone.

“Are you trying to impress him or something?” Tom inquired.

“No,” You scoffed, “I’m just trying to not throw him to the wolves.”

Tom laughed along, but it was strained. He wasn’t too keen on the idea of adding a new member to your friend group, and the little glint in your eye when you talked about Avery made his heart tighten.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Okay,” You smiled as you set the last of Tom’s luggage in his living room, “I’ll let you get some sleep then.”

You gave him one last hug and a kiss on the cheek, “see you later.”

Tom reciprocated and inhaled the sweet smell of lavender in your locks of hair, “mhm,” he sighed, “see ya.”

Harrison was about to walk out after you when Tom grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him back, “Mate, what the fuck.” he grumbled as he stumbled over his feet, “I thought you wanted to take a nap?”

“I slept on the plane,” Tom explained quickly, “you’ve been here the whole time, right?” Harrison nodded, “so you know this Avery guy, yeah?”

Harrison shook his head, “I haven’t talked to (Y/N) much this past month, but he’s probably on her Instagram.”

Harrison pulled out his phone and looked at posts you’d been tagged in, “Ah, here.” He handed the phone to Tom and pointed to the tall blonde guy in a group photo with you and some other friends, “He’s the tall blonde.”

Tom studied the picture with a small frown, “They’re not dating though, right?”

“She said he was her friend,” Harrison shrugged.

“You know what I mean,” Tom rolled his eyes, “do they look really chummy to you?”

“His hand’s kind of close to her butt, but other than that I don’t know.” Harrison pointed it out, causing Tom’s heart to momentarily stop.

“Ok, new plan,” Tom announced, “I’m going to ask (Y/N) out tonight.”

Harrison scoffed and rolled his eyes. “What?” Tom wondered.

“You’ve said that almost every single time you’ve been home and you always chicken out.”

“No, I don’t!” Tom gasped in offense, “It’s just hard to find the right time.”

“You’ve literally had hundreds of opportunities to tell her how you feel, Mate.”

“It has to be perfect.” Tom insisted, “I can’t just ask her out of the blue, I have to butter her up first.”

“That’s dumb.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Tom groaned, “get out, I changed my mind, I’m going to sleep.”

Harrison rolled his eyes and chuckled before giving Tom a pat on the back and leaving. Tom waved goodbye as Harrison drove away, and then rushed to his phone.

“FaceTime Zendaya,” he instructed Siri. The call went through and soon Tom was met with Zendaya's tired eyes in a dark room.

“Hey, Z!” Tom said cheerfully, “best friend, bestest pal in the world. The person that never wants to see me fail ever, my greatest companion—“

“Tom,” Zendaya groggily cut him off, “what the fuck do you want, I’m sleeping.”

“How do you ask a girl out?”

Zendaya sat up a little more and turned on her bedside lamp, “What? You don’t know how to ask a girl out?”

“Well I do,” Tom backtracked, “but I want it to be special. I’ve been in love with this girl for nearly two years now and every time I go to ask her out, I chicken out.”

“I don’t know, what does she like?”

“Well one time she told me her favorite animal was a sea otter, should I get her one?” Tom pondered, hand resting in his chin in thought.

“Um, no, what the fuck?” Zendaya squinted her eyes at Tom, “have you gotten any sleep yet?”

Tom shook his head, “This is important, Z, now help me!”

Zendaya rolled her eyes, “I’ll text you some ideas, but for now just go get some sleep. With how tired you are now you’d probably call her the wrong name or something.”

Tom rolled his eyes, but the action caused his eyelids to droop even more, “Fine, fine,” he conceded, “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Okay,” Tom announced at the restaurant before you arrived, “I’m going to ask (Y/N) out tonight so I need you all to shut up and not distract me or make me nervous.”

Harrison, Harry, and Sam just stared at Tom. Tuwaine, for some unknown reason, started clapping.

“Tom,” Harrison began, “no offense, but—“

“Ah ah ah,” Tom stopped him, “is what you’re about to say going to bruise my ego?” Harrison thought about it for a moment before slowly nodding, “okay, then shut the fuck up, respectfully. I don’t need any bad juju tonight.”

“Well, I’m happy for you, Mate,” Tuwaine nodded. He was the closest to you after Tom and he knew all about your crush on the brown-haired Brit. You might’ve let it slip once when you were drunk, and since you didn’t willingly tell Tuwaine, he was sworn to secrecy. “I’m positive she’ll say yes.”

“Thank you,” Tom smiled at him, sending a slight glare to the others for their lack of faith in him. “As for the rest of you, I can’t wait to prove you wrong.”

You walked into the restaurant with Avery hunched over from laughing so hard. Tom smiled in your direction and waved you over, “Hey, (Y/N/N)! Over here!”

“Wow,” You chuckled, “must’ve been a good nap. Little energetic there, huh?”

Tom went in to give you a tight hug, holding you close, “Just missed you,” he mumbled into your hair.

“I just saw you a few hours ago?”

Avery stood by you awkwardly, waiting for Tom to release you. Tom reluctantly let you go and pulled a chair out for you, next to him.

“Thanks,” you smiled at him, motioning for Avery to sit next to you, “hey, everyone,” you smiled at the group of boys that were properly about to piss themselves at Tom’s over-the-top behavior, “this is Avery.”

“Hi,” He waved at the group as a small chorus of ‘hellos’ rang across the table. He turned to Tom to shake his hand, “I’m a big fan, Mate. Love your work.”

Tom smiled and patted him on the shoulder, “Thanks, it means a lot.” smiled politely, shaking Avery's hand.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Dinner went off without a hitch, at least in your opinion. Avery was melding well with your friends and he was cracking jokes like he’d know the group for years.

The boys seemed to enjoy his sense of humor and what he added to the conversation. Sam and him even found that they shared an interest in cooking, which led to them having a slightly heated discussion about how real Gordon Ramsey’s cooking skills are; which ended in laughs.

However, Tom was probably having one of the worst nights of his life. Every time Avery playfully shoved you while you two laughed he wanted to wring his neck. It also didn’t help that he couldn’t find the perfect time to ask you out. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to ask you out with all of his mates around.

Tom smiled and laughed along with the jokes, but once you looked away he was back to frowning.

“Tom,” Harry nudged his brother, “wipe that scowl off your face.”

“I’m not scowling,” Tom grumbled, “this is my normal face.”

Harry rolled his eyes and kicked his older brother under the table, “You need to ask her soon. I think Avery is trying to make some moves on her.” Harry noticed, seeing how Avery casually had his arm around your chair.

Tom rolled his eyes, “As if I can't see that for myself,” he scoffed. “I don’t want to ask her with all of you watching. What if she says no?”

“We can leave you alone for a bit when we go to the pub, but I’m not sure if Avery will go with us.” Harry shrugged, “you could always ask her out tomorrow.” Harry suggested.

“No!” Tom exclaimed, causing everyone to look at him and Harry, “Sorry, I—um, I just don’t really like that shirt on you Harry; it makes my eyes hurt.”

Harry looked down at his shirt for a moment and then frowned, sending a light smack to Tom, “You bought me this shirt you div.”

Everyone went back to their own conversations so Tom leaned in to talk to Harry some more, “I can’t wait for tomorrow. What if I chicken out again?”

“Then you’re an idiot.” Harry deadpanned with a shrug.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The pub was way more packed than anyone expected. The new addition of live music to the outside patio definitely livened up the place and more customers went to see what local band would be playing next.

The pub had a classic English pub feel, with the wood flooring and the yellow-tinted walls, but it also had a modern twist with a back patio and outdoor seating with fairy lights, and the lights that illuminate under the bar itself.

“I’m gonna go check out the band,” Harry announced after he came back with your drinks, “you guys should all come with me.” He said with a slight side-eye to Sam, Tuwaine, and Harrison.

“Eh, I’m not really into—” Sam began, but Harry sent him a quick kick under the table. “Ow! I mean, I love music.” Sam smiled enthusiastically.

“I’m gonna stay back and finish this beer,” Tom said, holding up the large pint of beer he was already a quarter of the way through, “(Y/N), wanna race to see who can finish first?” He suggested trying to get you to stay behind.

“Oh you’re totally on,” You smirked, “but I am going to take a quick peek at the band. We can race after I get back.” You got up from your seat and began walking away with Harry and the boys. Tom pouted at how horribly that plan worked. Harry looked back at Tom apologetically as he held the door open for you.

“Wow,” Avery smiled beside Tom, scaring him, “she really is something.”

“Holy shit, Mate,” Tom held a hand to his heart, “you almost gave me a heart attack. I thought you went with them?”

“Nah,” Avery shook his head, “I’m not really into music,” he shrugged.

“Oh, okay,” Tom nodded. “What were you just saying?”

“(Y/N),” Avery looked towards the back patio exit dreamily, “she’s amazing. I mean I would definitely ask her out, but probably not at a pub surrounded by her mates, y’know?”

“Mhm, yeah,” Tom said quietly, his heart already beginning to shatter into millions of inconsolable pieces. “I mean, she’s alright.” He said with a forced laugh, trying to fend Avery away from you, “she definitely isn’t really your type, though.”

“What do you mean?” Avery asked, taking a sip from his beer, “she’s perfect, mate.”

“I mean,” Tom racked his brain for an excuse big enough to make Avery not want you, “you don’t think it’s a little weird she’s in a friend group with all boys?”

“No,” Avery said slowly, skeptically looking back at the exit, “she just clicks with boys, I guess. Girls and guys can just be friends.”

“Not her,” Tom scoffed, “I mean, it’s just a little obvious, y’know?”

You and the rest of the boys were heading back in, seeing as the back patio was completely overcrowded with patrons.

“What’s obvious?” Avery asked, raising his voice slightly due to the volume in the bar.

“(Y/N)’s only friends are guys!” Tom nearly yelled over the volume of chatter, not realizing that the surrounding customers could hear him, “makes me wonder how many she’s slept with! I mean, that’s not a coincidence to me!”

The surrounding customers halted their conversations, leaving only Tom’s voice filtering through the air and into your ears.

“That’s crazy,” Avery chuckled awkwardly, “I don’t think she’s like that.” He shook his head, annoying Tom. In a final last-ditch effort to get Avery off your back, he said the worst thing he could, loudly, into a quieting pub.

“Well, she hits on me all the time,” Tom shrugged, “she’s just a bit whorish, I guess.”

“Tom,” Tuwaine cleared his throat, interrupting their conversation, “what the fuck, mate?”

Tom looked at all the boys next to Tuwaine, and behind them was you, teary-eyed with harsh sobs racking through your body.

You whispered something to Harry, and then all but ran out the front door. Harry walked over to where Tom was sitting and picked up your purse.

“Harry I—” Tom tried.

“Shut the fuck up, Tom.” Harry snapped, “You're an idiot and an asshole, just leave things be.”

Harry ran out the pub entrance, following you to give you a ride home.

Tuwaine, Sam, and Harrison shook their heads once the shock ebbed away. One by one they all left Tom sitting in shock and agony at the bar. Avery, not knowing any of the group, barely knew what was going on or if Tom’s accusations were correct, left the pub and went home without another word.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Harry,” Tom whined into the phone, “please tell me how to fix this, please I’m begging you.”

Harry sighed, now properly regretting lifting his silent treatment from Tom, “Tom, there is absolutely nothing I can do to help you, and even if there was, I wouldn’t. You called her a whore in front of a crowded pub—”

“I know!” Tom yelled, “And I’ve been living with that guilt for three weeks now! Please, Harry. I-I messed up so bad.” Tom’s voice cracked, “I tried calling and texting, a-and my texts started turning green. She blocked me,” Tom sobbed, “I’m in love with her, and I never got to tell her. I ruined our relationship before it even began.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, “you did.”

“Harry, I just want to apologize properly, please.” Tom begged, “I tried going to her house, but her roommate threw a drink at me and told me she went out of town. Where is she?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Harry,” Tom sighed, “I’m trying so hard here, I don’t care where she is, I’ll go anywhere for her. Please, I just can’t keep waiting in the dark for her to talk to me.”

Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead, “Okay, fine, but don’t tell her I told you where she was. And if you get your face clawed off, just know that you deserve it.”

“Okay, okay, now tell me.”

“She’s been staying with Tuwaine and his girlfriend.”

“Okay, thanks, love you, bye!” Tom said through the phone, already grabbing his keys.

Harry sighed and began texting Tuwaine,

Harry: Tom’s coming over, don’t snap him in half, he just wants to talk to her.

Tuwaine: I’m not home right now, but I'd be more worried about her snapping him in half…

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Tom pulled up the Tuwaine’s flat and pounded at the door. He didn’t see Tuwaine’s car in the driveway but he saw yours parked on the street so he knew you were in there.

“(Y/N)!” He desperately called, “Come on, I know you’re in there!”, his pleas were met with silence and he rang the doorbell on repeat, “(Y/N), please! I just want to talk!”

The door opened to show you standing there with your messy hair and stained sweats, still looking overwhelmingly perfect in Tom’s eyes. He noticed the dark circles and the dried tears and his heart broke, even more, knowing he caused this. He loved you so much and he caused you some of the worst pain imaginable. All he wanted to do was hold you and kiss your puffy cheeks, desperately whispering praises into your ear. You were perfect in every sense of the word, and he let you believe you were anything less. He was an idiot—the biggest idiot in the world—for making you cry.

“What do you want?” You snapped with a sniffle, pulling him back to reality as you rubbed your red eyes.

“I just want to talk,” Tom gave you a small smile, “please.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.” You scowled, “You need to leave.”

“No, (Y/N), please.” Tom begged, “I’m sorry. I’m so so so fucking sorry. I was being an idiot and—please, (Y/N), you’re my best friend. I don’t wanna lose you.” Tom’s voice cracked, but you remained stoic in the doorway.

“I’m your best friend? Really?” You scoffed, “I thought I was just some whore you let hang around you?”

Tom winced at his words being thrown back into his face, “I didn’t mean it, I swear,” he promised, tears glistening in his eyes, “I don’t even know why I said that. I was being so fucking stupid—”

“No,” You interrupted his rambling, “you don’t get to say that. You don’t get to say that it was just you “being stupid”. Who the hell says that about their supposed best friend? Why would you even think that? You don’t just get to call me those things in public, and then say that you don’t know why you did it. You can’t even give me a reason—”

“I’m in love with you,” Tom blurted out, blowing out a puff of air in stress, “I’ve been in love with you for the longest time, (Y/N). And Avery was saying how he wanted to ask you out, and I couldn’t lose you. I didn’t want to lose you. I had so many plans for us, and I wanted to be with you—to be yours—more than anything, and I let my jealousy get in the way. I’m sorry because if I deserved you I wouldn’t have done that.”

You stood in the doorway of the flat, arms crossed over your chest. “I can’t believe you’d be so reckless.” You said after a moment of silence, “I would’ve been yours if you had just asked me.”

“I’m sorry,” Tom cried, reaching out to hold your hand, but you backed away ever so slightly, “please, I would do anything to fix it if I could.”

“You don’t understand anything, Tom.” You frowned.

“Help me understand.” He begged.

You pondered it for a moment and then released a sigh, coupled with a few tears, “I loved you,” you admitted. Tom’s heart did a leap, but then he realized that you were talking past tense as if his chance with you was gone.

“And I would spend months and months just waiting for you to come home so I could spend time with you. I was so lonely when you and Harry left; I always am. Avery offered to spend some time with me after class one day and I agreed because I don’t have anybody else when you leave. And it was fun, but he wasn’t you. He’ll never compare to the place you had in my heart, but at least I wasn’t alone anymore.” You sighed and began closing the door again, “Now, because of you, I have no one again.”

The door was about to slam back in Tom’s face, but he shoved his foot in the threshold, “(Y/N), wait,” he pleaded, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how important Avery was to you. I can never undo what I did, but please let me make it up to you. I just need you to understand how sorry I am.”

You opened the door again and looked at Tom’s sad eyes, boring into you, “I do understand how sorry you are, but I don’t know how I can trust you again. You said awful things about me without even batting an eye or taking a breath—”

“I know,” Tom sighed, “I know and I’d give anything to take it back. I just want you back (Y/N). Even if you don’t want to be my girlfriend, I can’t leave knowing I’ve lost my best friend.”

“As much as it hurts,” You caved, moving from the doorway to let Tom in, “I still love you, and I don’t want to lose you either.”

Tom smiled and walked into the flat, immediately pulling you into a hug, “I’m so sorry, (Y/N),” You hugged back and sniffled into his hoodie, before pulling away with a sigh.

“I know,” You nodded, “I forgive you. But next time, just be honest with me and tell me how you’re feeling. I’d give you the world if you asked for it.”

Tom smiled and stroked your tear-stained cheek, “I’ll just settle on your heart for now, if that’s okay?”

“That’s so fucking cheesy.” You giggled, wiping the tears from your eyes, “I love it.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

✧tags & moots✧ @ptersmj @princessofguineapigs @peterbenjiparker @cherrytholland @itsapeterthing @justapurrcat @thirstiestpotato @kelieah @iovebug @waitimcomingtoo @rosyparkers @parkers-gal @allegra-writes @starktonyx @celestialholland @hollandcrush @londonspidey @blissfulparker @spidernerdsblog @spidey-sophie @spideyspeaches @peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology @andilovetowrite @sinisterspidey @asonofpeter @westcoastcigar @arlo-sanders @love-peterparker @boiolay @letssee2468 @white-wolf1940 @fandom-life-12 @hollandsdream @annathesillyfriend @lovelybarnes @miseryholland @wierdteenagenerd @duskholland @hollandprkr @lauras-collection @arvinsescape @hollandsrecs

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fanfic #tom holland oneshot #tom holland angst #tom holland peter parker #peter parker #spiderman #peter parker smut #requested

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rons-wheezely · 3 years ago

Text

224 || G.W.

George Weasley x Reader, Soulmate AU

Genre: Fluff, humor

Summary: Each soulmate pair receives a special number to them, and them only, on the day they’re born into this world. The placement on the body can vary, so people usually keep to themselves unless they fancy someone or it’s displayed somewhere public. How do you go around explaining to your best friend that he’s the one?

A/N: i have been so inactive, I’m so sorry rip I am going to try to post a fic here and there, but I’m still a student doing student things... This blog recently turned 2 years old, and has reached about 300 followers, so thank you so much for those of you who have found me in the piles of other wonderful works :) I love you all from the bottom of my heart.

--x--

“Oh, do forgive me, Georgie,” you playfully shove him out of the way. He stumbles away from the shelf containing the last package of Fizzing Whizbees in time for you to snatch it into your hands. You hear him chuckle as he regains his balance behind you. It’s suffocatingly crowded with fellow students in Honeydukes, so he leans in close so you can hear him.

His warm breath comes close to your ear, saying with a soft laugh,” At least share, alright?”

You tapped your chin thoughtfully as the smile plastered on your face turned into a smirk. You make your way to the cashier with George close behind. The candy in the box shake in your hands, and the decorative ring you’re wearing on your middle finger glimmers in the shop’s light. You call over your shoulder,” If you win the next match against Slytherin, I might.”

This statement alone had George fist pump the air in satisfaction. Even if he lost, you would most likely share it anyways –– to cheer him up, of course. You two have been best friends since your first year when you cleverly evaded one of the twins’ pranks. It was a lucky guess, but the outcome left Fred and George tangled in a mess of burping up slugs for three hours. It was an easy friendship after that, other than the secret feelings you harbored for George, that is.

Soon enough, the match came and the sight was an absolutely thrilling one. You watch as each player flies by, and each time the wind sweeps your hair in every direction. Fred and George are on a spectacular streak, and they never once miss the bludger. Thankfully you had a pair of binoculars and Lee Jordan’s commentary; the team was so small in the air that it was hard to tell what was happening.

Harry Potter was no doubt going to catch the snitch, and here he comes now swooping in underneath his teammates. He’s almost flat against his broomstick, urging it to go faster before Malfoy could get to the fluttering golden speck. All eyes are on Potter, and the boy is mere inches away. Just as his nimble fingers wrap around the snitch, another Gryffindor teammate drops from the air.

You can hear the subtle gasps from a few in the crowd who noticed. The Gryffindor team were too enraptured with Harry’s catch to notice that one of them was dropping ten, twenty, thirty meters to the ground. “George!” You cried.

As if sending a telepathic message to the other twin, though it is most likely he heard you yell as clear as day, Fred swoops down to save his brother from impact. You notice now that you're standing on your feet and leaning on the railing that separates you from your best friends on the field. You watch on in horror as Fred barely makes it in time. The breath you didn’t know you were holding finally escapes you, and your surroundings come back all at once.

You hear the deafening silence and the sound of the wind blowing by. No one moves as they watch Fred land on the ground with George. It was Lee who ended the tension,” And with that, Gryffindor earns 130 points and has won the match…”

All at once, everyone in the stands scrambles to get out. Elated with Harry’s catch and the twins’ safety, the student body goes their separate ways. You follow them as well and weave your way through the crowd to get to Fred and George. Panic fills your lungs, and every fiber in your body screams to make sure they’re okay.

“Fred!” You call out,” Are you two alright?”

“Yeah, no harm done to me,” he sighs,” –– Other than this git. A bludger whacked him straight on the side and he passed out on his ride down.”

“It looks like it hurts… but it’s nothing Madame Pomfrey can’t handle, right?” You wince. You try to convince yourself that George is just sleeping a very deep, restful sleep.

“I reckon he’ll be fine, y/n.” Fred winks your way with a sly grin. “Visit him lots, yeah?”

Madame Pomfrey refused to let anyone in until she was done running some tests. When she finally let you visit, you rushed to sit next to George’s bedside. He stirred at your frantic movements and opened an eye to see you. “It’s not that bad is it?” He chuckles.

“She said that you’ve broken a few ribs, but you’ll be alright.” You smile.

George sits up slowly, pretending to be in agonizing pain. You worry for a bit and reach out to him on instinct, but he laughs and tells you he’s okay. His torso is wrapped entirely with gauze over his clothes, and there are a few bandages wrapped around his forearms as well. Pomfrey had drawn a blanket over George earlier, so the white sheet still covered the lower half of his body. A moment goes by, and you hear a soft wheeze leaving George’s lips. “You don’t suppose my soulmate is into beaten up ginger-heads, do you?”

“Well,” you mull over your words. Pretending to take his question seriously, you answer,” they would have if you were Fred..” You laugh a little as you catch the glint in his eyes –– the mischievous one you had grown to love.

“Oh, if only I looked exactly like that bloke.” He jokes. His head falls a little forward as he laughs. His gaze is drawn to his lap, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he looked like those shy love interests in romantic muggle films.

You notice that his fiery hair is covering his eyes, and your body compels you to get another glimpse of that wonderful boy’s face. Ever so gently, you reach your hand out and tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. When your fingers curve around the back of his ear, you notice a few dark marks of what looks like a tattoo. Your eyebrows furrow together in confusion. You go to move more of his hair out of the way, but he turns his eyes to you.

“Are you getting handsy with me y/n? Tryin’ to make a move, are you?” He smiles, but there is a small panic in his eyes as they frantically search yours. “You could’ve just asked me out, you know.”

“Is that your soulmate mark?” You ask.

“Maybe.”

“Well,” you huff playfully,” I might be able to tell you who your soulmate is. I might cry if your soulmate is Madame Pomfrey, though.”

“Is that a bad thing?” He asks, a playful tone in his voice.

"Georgie, please don’t tell me you have a thing for milfs.”

It takes everything in him to hold back his laughter. George pulls his hair back to reveal the numbers 224 etched behind his left ear. Your breath catches in your throat, but you try to hide your very obvious shock. 224 was a number you knew too well, and seeing that number reflected on your best friend’s skin meant that your deepest feelings were true. It’s okay to be in love with George because now... now there is chance he feels the same way.

Your mark is tattooed on the band of your middle finger, which is usually covered up by jewelry. You fidget with your rings nervously, trying to ground yourself all the while. George doesn’t pay too much attention to it when he says,“Fred has his numbers on his right ear. I might be the right-hand man, but he’s lucky enough to be the right-ear man.”

You laugh at his really bad pun,” Really? Out of all of the ear jokes, you chose that one?”

“It made you laugh, didn’t it?” He nudges you with his shoulder, and you can’t help but giggle some more.

“Would you like to hear a fun fact?” You ask. You gulp down all of the fear that has started to swallow you whole. You are George’s soulmate. The idea buzzes in your head along with a million other thoughts. George nods for you to continue, and you fight the panicked urge to scream. “...In the muggle world, they have such advanced technology.”

“Yeah, dad would know––” George interjects for a second.

“The numbers 224 actually hold a meaning to them. It’s something like a code–– it’s related to their fancy devices I think? Anyways,” you take a deep breath. You remember vividly the details your friend went to great lengths explaining to you.

“Your number is all kinds of special, y/n!” Mae beams at you. Her eyes twinkle in an amusing manner as she tries to prove herself. A soft thud could be heard when her hands meet with the common room table, and she quickly jumps to her feet. “Imagine, having such a fantastic number as that!” She exclaims with awe.

“I don’t understand?” You bemusedly remark. Why would numbers hold more meanings beyond your standard soulmate reason?

“My brother loves binary code, a certain muggle science,” she explains,” and he told me a few meanings. One of them being yours! Now, if only fate would tell us who your soulmate was...”

If Mae were in this room, she would be bursting at the seams from pure glee. You look into George’s eyes and say,” ...the numbers actually mean something along the lines of ‘Today, Tomorrow, Forever.’ It has to do with the bond you and your soulmate have together.“

He blinks once or twice before breaking out into a grin,” Okay, can you say it again but,” he emphasizes,” simpler, maybe?

“––it means that your soulmate will love an accident-prone idiot like you forever and always,” You joke halfheartedly.

The familiar gleaming smile he wore after a successful prank creeps up onto his face: one of self satisfaction and deserving of many awards based on looks alone. His smile is much gentler and you almost miss it, but a blush tints the very tips of his cheeks. “Oh? wait ‘till dad finds out that numbers have meanings to muggles. How’d you know all of this anyway?”

“Oh, it’s just something my friend talked to me about.” You dismiss his questioning gaze and clear your throat. Every second that passes makes you more and more anxious being around George, simply just by knowing you two are soulmates. It’s a dream come true, sure. But how do you go around explaining to your best friend that he’s the one?

“Are you alright, y/n?” George asks. “You seem real fidgety. Do you need to go somewhere?”

“Oh–– no, it just that,” you gulp. “Well.. I think left the Fizzing Whizbees back in my dorm room.” You lie. You know it’s in your bag with your other belongings, safely tucked away for later consumption. “Post-game snacks are essential, and I did make a promise.”

“Are you sure you left it there? I thought I saw it in your bag...” He leans over to find your bag, and sure enough, he pulls out the box of candy.

“Oh.” You look at him. There’s an awkward pause before he clears his throat.

“You’ve really got to get yourself together mate–– looks like Nearly Headless Nick showed you his neck hole again or something.” George jokes to lighten the mood, but he’s right. The longer you sit there and stare at him, the more you either want to slam your lips against his or vomit profusely. You feel pale and sickly; just enough to feel the twists and turns of your stomach. Is this what having butterflies feel like? He opens the bag of candy and offers you some.

You share the box of whizbees with him, taking one out and popping them into your mouth. It fizzes and jolts a little as the sweet taste melts on your tongue. “I think maybe Fred slipped something to me earlier,” you avert your gaze,” I’m not sure.”

“Yeah, sounds like Fred.” George grabs your hand and looks you in the eyes. He’s rubbing soothing circles on your hands, and it does seem to relax some of your nerves. He looks at you softly and gently, and all at once, your anxiety starts to melt away in his presence. You almost forget why you’re so worried in the first place. “You know I’m not going anywhere. If you have to take a massive shit, I’ll wait for you.” He says as he pats your hand reassuringly.

You erupt into laughter and shove him away. “And here I thought we were having a moment.”

“Nothing says true love like bowl movements, darling.”

As the laughter dies down, the somber feeling in your gut returns. It’s now or never, right? “George, I think I need to tell you something. I—“

Fred bursts into the door with Lee following shortly behind. “There’s my favorite twin!” He beams. He gets a disapproving look from Madame Pomfrey peering around the corner from her office. Fred doesn’t pay much attention, choosing to walk past her with barely a glance over his shoulder. George rolls his eyes as Fred happily trots over, spilling some liquid from two mugs in his hands. “—had to have Lee help sneak these in for the party, which you lot are missing out on.” He hands you a mug of butter beer and George, the other.

You decide to drop the subject even after George was free from the hospital bed. It’s a few weeks since then, and school has made you push those thoughts of pesky soulmates and true love aside. Of course, George kept looking at you funny, waiting for you to bring it up again. To his dismay, you didn’t.

“Alright everyone, class is dismissed.” Professor Sprout announces as she busies herself in setting up plants for the next day. It’s the last class of the day, and you couldn’t be happier. Repotting plants was hard work, and you were sweaty enough as it is. Beads of sweat dripped down the side of your face, and as much as you hated it, it did make for good eye candy across the room — namely George, although there’s a lot of dirt smudged onto his face too.

He’s cleaning up rather quickly so you call out to him,” Can you grab my rings, Georgie? They’re over there by my bag.” You had to remove jewelry in order to “safely handle” the creatures and wear proper gloves. Those of which you hastily pull off to wash your hands. The suds come and go as you lather and rinse away in the sink.

“Today, tomorrow, forever eh?” George’s deep voice rumbles in your ear. You jump a little at the sudden scare. “I think I like the sound of that, don’t you?”

You turn your head a little to the side and come very close to George’s face. You can feel his breath fanning on your skin, and his nose is just barely touching yours. You fear that if you blink, the sight in front of you will vanish. Every freckle that glitters his skin is so close you could count them like the stars and draw constellations between them if you wanted to. It’s absolutely breathtaking. Your body feels like it’s on a cloud— so feather light and airy— as he smiles at you. Your throat is dry; your tongue struggles to keep up with your thoughts. “...what?” You choke out. You cover your hands on impulse, but you know it’s too late.

“It means you’re stuck with me forever, y/n.” He grins. “Soulmate magic is no joke, you know.” He hands you your rings and walks beside you out of the greenhouse. You slip the rings on to your middle finger where it’s always resided, deciding to fidget with it a little.

Nothing should be different. You’re walking with George in the hallways like you always do, your hair is no different than yesterday, and class was the same as an other day. And yet your heart is beating faster and the sun seems to shine brighter. The grass is greener and the lake bluer than it was this morning. Words remain unspoken, but the truth is there. His fingers are interlocked with yours. 224.

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hollyhomburg · 4 years ago

Text

Before I Leave You (Pt.4)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Yoongi makes his choice, so does Moonbyul.

Pairing: Beta! Yoongi, Omega! Reader, Omega! Jungkook, Omega! Seokjin, Alpha! Namjoon, Alpha! Hoseok, Alpha! Taehyung, Alpha! Jimin,

Tags: Graphic material, Death, Murder, Dead bodies and dying described in detail, brief suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, depression, DARK THEMES, guilt, blood, a touch of blood kink? drugs, murder/crime themes, guilt, kinda fuck or die vibes? finally fluff at the end, mating marks,

W/c: 7.1k

A/n: here is the moment you’ve all been waiting for! the big d word moment!!! my carpal tunnel is acting up, I will probably not be able to get the next chapter out for a few days or until next week. Chronologically the next chapter continues after part 1.

(PLEASE READ TAGS FOR CW BEFORE YOU PROCEED)

Previous part — Masterlist

Part 4: If I Have You

Pulling the trigger is the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

Geumjae’s body flinches back from the force of the bullet. The ceiling splattering with the spray of his blood. It hits the side of your face too, your white shirt crested with red at the shoulders, dripping down your throat along with the blood from your mating bite. It’s a percussive splatter, noisy as it hits the wall.

People never talk about how blood gets everywhere during a murder. Yoongi is unable to stop his flinch when Geumjae’s brain matter and viscera splatter against him, just a little.

Yoongi didn't think you'd actually do it.

He watches you shove the body away from you, hard, what's left of his head, an empty vessel, hitting the floor with a hollow thud. His hands leave you for the last time, but the pain isn't finished.

Yoongi barely has the forethought to lunge forward, knees scraping, wrestling the gun out of your hand before you can turn it on yourself. The barrel of the gun is hot when Yoongi's hands close around it and yank it away from your own temple. The smell of burning skin joins the metallic scent of murder. Your scent is a mess- it’s barely had a chance to mix with Geumjae’s burning wood-burning bread and wrath, rainstorms, and gunpowder.

He shouts your name but you don't respond.

Yoongi yanks the gun from your hands, probably hurting your fingers but panicked when he hurls the gun to the other side of the room and takes your hands in his, wrestling with you and screaming your name until the fight goes out of you.

You’re hyperventilating when you stop struggling. Both of your wrists pinned above your head in both of Yoongi’s hands, his knees pressing your legs to stillness in a way that could be sexual but isn't- it's the easiest way for him to restrain you- both sprawled on the bloody floor. Yoongi’s crying, tears dripping down his nose, every other drop shines pink from what's on his face.

“Yoongi please- please just let me go- I don’t want to become a ghost- I don't wanna become a walking corpse.” The way you look breaks his heart, your neck so bruised and bloody, your face swelling too from Geumjae’s hits. The way your eyes hold only darkness and no warmth as you look at him and beg- beg him to let you take your life. Your pupils are so small he can't see them at all.

“Let me die Yoongi- please just- if you do one thing for me- let do this. let me go."

Yoongi looks at your mating mark and can already see the thin tracery of ink spreading under your skin- inky blackness spreading from your mating bite and up your throat. A piece of someone who’s dead inside of you, shot through with silver to make it stand out more.

It’s like some silly zombie bite in a bad horror movie but it’s so much more haunting, The veins in your eyes are even starting to discolor. You have maybe a few minutes before the mating bite takes you over completely and you’re mated to someone dead.

Zombie movies were nothing more than fear of this taking root in common culture, everyone fears losing their mate. What else is more terrifying than something that takes your humanity in the way that this has taken yours. This is every person’s worst nightmare- a death sentence.

‘Ghosts’ are what society has dubbed the women and men who live after losing their partners. Most of the time they live without alpha or a pack- unable to bond to anyone else ever again once their mates are dead. Mating bites are a one-time thing.

When one-half of a mated pair dies- a person's body has a peculiar way of letting outsiders know how to treat them gently- The mating mark turns black like a brand. A mark to let everyone know that they would never have another person to take care of them- to love them.

But you aren’t alone- you’re not alone because you have Yoongi and he’s right here with his wide palms on you. Hands that where always made to fix things, but you aren’t just some broken toy that needs a bit of glue. He’s too late, just seconds too late and only inches away.

He grips both of your forearms in either of his palms hands, pulling you closer. Making you sit up, dragging you into his lap like carrying your weight in his arms will fix this. Anything to hold onto you- to not lose you too soon.

"Stop- just stop, I've got you- I've got you," Yoongi repeats it more for himself than he does for you.

But there are wounds in your body that can’t be fixed by simple hoping. There is a limit to what one person can take. Despair is one hell of a drug and while Yoongi fights and fights there is no undoing what Geumjae has done to you.

But maybe…

Yoongi dares to hope; “It’s only a half bond if we-“ he falls silent as the idea settles over him like a bucket of cold water. His brain rushing over everything he’s ever learned about mating bites and beta’s; all of the statistics and articles that Namjoon had shoved down his throat when Jungkook had first stopped having seizures.

The medical mystery that betas were; how they were able to heal unseen hurts and maybe- maybe this was like that. Maybe the solution to this problem lays in Yoongi’s veins, in his mouth.

His jaw aches at the very suggestion of it. “I’m a beta- and betas don’t usually mark- because- because they’re stronger than alpha and omega bites.”

It’s the only truth that makes sense. All of the stories of omegas and alphas going crazy after being bitten by betas, not being able to move from them too far, extreme clinginess- a bond that was too close, too strong, stronger than anything else in their life. You weren’t supposed to bond with someone so deep, the bite almost seemed to do more harm than good.

But you’re already dying and there isn’t much worse that could happen to you.

You don't have anything to lose but Yoongi does. You shake yourself free from his arms and pull back. Recoiling from what he’s offering to do for you; tether him to you forever when you might not make it.

You can already feel the mating mark taking hold- It's already starting to cloud your judgment, deep down, the part of you that cares if you survive this is already winking out. The blankness sinking through your every inch, The emptiness. You’d be surprised if you lifted your hand to your chest and found your heart still beating.

“Yoongi- No- you don’t have to- you’ve already got a pack and don’t- don’t bind yourself to someone like me.”

It’s the same argument that you had before but there’s no force behind it- every stupid excuse you had for him not to love you is moot now that your husband is dead next to you. But you're done; Every breath takes more effort than it should and you feel so heavy. You look down at your lap and feel the lethargy sinking beneath your bones like lead. Hidden hands gripping around your throat cutting off your words.

You feel like you’re choking on something.

You’ve felt depressed before (how could you not have given what your life was like before Yoongi). And having a mating mark from someone deceased feels like that but worse, like it's turned up by a factor of three. A weird mixture of dizzy, absent, and dissociative. You have never felt less connected to your own body, it feels foreign.

You are nothing but a soul inside a body, craving release. A thread of black that wants to tug you down to where ever Geumjae is now.

The sinking sadness says to you with gentle hands- this is a fine spot. You can just sit here, It’s okay. You don’t have to move, you can just sit here until you die. As long as no one bothers you and hurts you again, you could just sit here, as long as it was quiet and peaceful. Things don't even have to be good, you don't need good things, you just need it to not hurt anymore. Until the earth reclaims you like it takes abandoned buildings.

A sharp pain that goes through your heart, an ache so deep that it speaks to cavernous places, wakes monsters that you didn’t know where there.

You’ve never really wanted to die before, maybe as a passing thought- but didn’t everyone think that way? it’s so different now- where the thoughts are all consuming, running over your words in your head like oil spreading and staining cloth.

Die- want to die- want- want- want die- wanna go- wanna be quiet- wanna fall asleep and not wake up- want to-

But if you decided to lay here and not get up again, Yoongi would stay too.

He would try and get you to move, probably beg and try to get you to live. Even if he never bit you, he’d stay next to you until the end, just to hold your hand so that you didn’t have to be completely alone. You thought dying would feel more lonely, But maybe it doesn't feel that way because Yoongi’s here.

His hand closes around yours, his thumb rubbing soothing circles as he cries. And you think if you want one thing; it's for him to stop crying. Out of all people- Yoongi doesn't deserve the hurt (but maybe you're biased because you love him).

That tips the scale in his favor.

Geumjae’s blood is pooling on the floor. His body gives a twitch, the last remnants of his misfiring nerves as he dies. You feel the painful jerk in your mating bond. Yoongi watches the muscles of your neck twitch.

Neither you nor Yoongi pays him any mind.

"You don't have to do this Yoongi." Yoongi’s hand on your cheek- is like a balm to those words, pushing them out of your head. “You can’t take it back. If I die- you could die too.”

“But I want to” he kisses your cheek- and the contact lights a flame down your neck to your touch starved heart. The heat flares to light and the next second your body and your mouth are aching to bite. Your instincts an avalanche around you begging you to complete the bond that’s tearing through you making you shake. He kisses a little closer to your lips, cheeks wet and cool against your skin.

Geumaje and Yoongi were related by blood at all, maybe your instincts can’t tell the difference.

“I don’t care if it does- I can’t- I’m not going to just let you die” his voice breaks on the last word. Not when it was me who was too slow to save you; He won’t say the words or whisper his guilt into the open air.

“Please sweetheart- let me.” He kisses your lips. So soft- achingly soft, Your first kiss, you wish it had happened under better circumstances.

You hate that the first kiss you and Yoongi share tastes like blood.

But there would be more- there could be more kisses if Yoongi manages to do what he’s saying he can. The mark on your shoulder is already healing, the blackness stretching to scar treacherously fast. Normal mating bites usually take a day or so to heal, but not yours, it’s already scabbing and sealing in the poision.

If you’re going to try this- if it’s going to work- it has to be now. The bond is advancing, regardless of the fact that Geumjae is barely dead, barely cooling beside the two of you.

It’s barely been 10 minutes since you shot him. And if you listen carefully- you can hear sounds in the rest of the house, maybe someone else from the gang here- about to come upstairs and discover the mess of you three. muffled voices and heavy footsteps grow louder by the second.

Yoongi is safe but you’re not. “Yoongi,” you say, his name a broken hymn on your mouth. Musical- and Yoongi can’t think of a time when he wouldn’t want to hear it. Hoping for more of this closeness and maybe one day, a love that doesn’t hurt.

You get the feeling that even if you are broken beyond repair, this man could fix you. Wide hands and careful fingers that rub the blood away from your skin, hands made for making things and mending things when they break. And maybe you’re selfish enough to let him bind himself to you- broken as you are.

You press your forehead to his, you have to ask one more time. "Are you sure Yoongi?"

He nods, quick and small, "I'm sure." there isn’t anything in his eyes that makes you doubt him.

"Okay," you say softly, tugging him closer, tilting your chin up to the sky, your skin stings where it stretches around the mating mark. "okay. Come here then."

Your hands tangle in Yoongi’s hair as you guide his mouth to your throat, and his mouth sliding into the space where Geumjae was just minutes ago. He lingers for just half a breath before sinks his teeth over the mating mark, a little deeper- his mouth a little wider. He makes the bite a tiny bit offset.

Your breath hitches, back arching. His hands-on your waist go hard, holding you closer to him, as close as he can get you. Unlike before when Geumjae’s bite was agony, this feels like heroin- like every drug mixing together sending you up and up.

If you looked down and saw your hands were tipped in gold you wouldn’t be surprised. For a second you think you can taste colors, and then the chocolate sea salt of Yoongi settles over your tongue delicious, like ambrosia- fuck it’s so strong, it’s halfway between a headache and a high. You gasp when you feel it, feel Yoongi all over, Goosebumps rising on your arms as he touches you. The smell of ocean breeze and chocolate filling you in a way that Geumjae’s scent didn’t.

Geumjae’s bite was nothing compared to this, a whisper to a symphony.

This must be what a mating bite feels like when you want it. You cry out. Gripping the lapels of his coat. Yoongi’s heartbeat thunders in your ears, the only thing you can hear, until the beat matches to your own, heartbeats pumping in sync.

Your blood tastes sweet and he wonders what it says about him that he likes the taste. He gulps at it- once- twice- and then a third time just to make sure the mark sticks, maybe he could suck a little bit of Geumjae out of you.

His kisses get feverish, lapping up your blood with wide laves of his tongue, moaning a little. and this time when you kiss- with your blood in his mouth, they get hurried and rushed like he can consume you, each one sweeter than the last. There is one moment of nausea, only one moment where Yoongi sees the black tracery receded and feels it dim.

Maybe it’s not gone, but at least it's buried.

Yoongi can almost feel you, can almost feel the bond, but not yet. Your scent, it's all cake-sweet now. You kiss him until your jaw aches until your lips feel bruised. Until you know the sounds below actually are people, rushing around trying to find Geumjae. Calling out your names.

Yoongi is the first to break apart, the room spinning. “Do me” he lifts the edge of his shirt, picking out a spot that he likes, the meat just above his hip. A spot is half-hidden by his shirt and his pants.

Not everyone likes to have their mating marks on their neck (you certainly would have chosen to have yours another place had you been given the chance). And Yoongi stretches out so that you can get your mouth on him, your mouth on the spot he wants to bind your soul to his.

He holds one of your hands in both of his hands so gently as you cup his hip and bite down, even as you begin to make out the noise of gang members coming up the attic stairs. Yoongi bites down a moan, lets you take one gasp of blood into your mouth before your teeth leave his skin.

The high rushes over him and he knows his pupils are mirrors of yours, black and dilated. He just has time to wipe his blood from your mouth and get you as close as he can, before the attic door creaks, the barrel of a gun pushing it open. And the gangsters enter the room with practiced steps.

Yoongi pulls his shirt back down just before they have a chance to see.

You play the part, slumping against him and letting him take the reigns. the people must take it for pain even though you’re shaking not with sobs, but from the feeling of Yoongi’s soul intertwining with yours. Full body shivers and something solidifying between the two of you.

Together you shake, Yoongi is barely aware of the gangsters clearing the room.

You feel like you can taste his thoughts, though you can’t actually hear what he's thinking. You can feel the way they tumble like small waves over each other. You feel concern and something else, something that feels an offal lot like love shoot down the fledgling bond as Yoongi’s arms pull you up, firmer against him.

It makes shivers rise on every inch of your skin, the pleasure he feels when he touches you that you're now hyper-aware of. It's what your body has been craving- the completion of the bond.

You both bleed- your blood dripping onto the floor. One part sacrament and sacred love and another part poisonous longing for a man you hated so much more than you ever loved him. This feels strange, it feels wrong, and that you have one part of you reaching out for something that’s not there. And then this- with Yoongi, right and front of you and inside of you. Completely occupying your heart and your mind and your body.

Accept for that one poisoned inch; you might not be completely his, but it's enough now, the bond with yoongi occupying those thoughts you'd had minutes before.

The gangsters don’t touch Geumjae, at least until Moonbyul enters the room, unarmed. Yoongi’s cousin eyes Yoongi from the door. There isn’t enough room in this torture room for the 12 or so gangsters and the three of you, they press against the walls, guns at the ready.

Moonbyul approaches Geumjae’s corpse, turning him over with her foot to see his blankly staring face, turning it towards the heavens instead of hell. For a moment, Yoongi thinks she might actually kick him. She plucks her pink handgun from the floor. Someone passes her a rag and she wipes it free of blood and fingerprints.

Her eyes on Yoongi are hard; a bit of mirth playing on the edge of her mouth as she plays her hand. A queen in a room full of pawns and knights, and the king underfoot. Her hand of aces.

Betting it all on a simple game of roulette- red or black- will Yoongi challenge her or not. Yoongi doesn't miss the way her finger hovers on the trigger.

“I suppose this entire situation would be concerning to me- if you hadn’t already named me as Don.” she nudges Geumjae's body again with her foot. "I guess he didn't take it well?"

She lies effortlessly, taking the moment to seize power. So this was what she was waiting for. Yoongi doesn’t challenge her words for fear of what she might do right now, not that he really would anyway.

Yoongi tips his head forward in difference, “No he didn’t,”

Moonbyul tucks her gun back into her waistband, and holds out her hand to pull yoongi to his feet.

Yoongi takes you with him, small and still a little high in his arms. You hide your face in Yoongi’s shoulder, Holding onto him tight. You don’t know if you could take it if they tried to separate you now.

Yoongi has to swallow to continue, struggling to think before he speaks with so many new sensations shocking his body. He's intimately aware of the way you shift in his arms, arms tightening around you at the very idea of you moving more than an inch away from him right now as you settle onto your own two feet. still a little unsteady.

“He- he mated her against her will, and then he tried to kill us when I told him I wouldn’t- and- and after-” It’s not a lie- not really, but it still feels that way. Moonbyul doesn't need to do anything more than that to nod to call her men off, and they all relax around the room.

They instantly fade from engaged concern to understanding. The other heads of household will probably grill Yoongi more. But you’ve both got time to get your story straight. For now, they need to clean up the body.

It helps that threatening the beta is a punishable offense; no one will question Yoongi killing him- especially since they’re brothers. Most of the families tend to think that inner house spats that family's business. Yoongi doesn’t know which of his relatives will inherit the title of head of the Min family, but it won't be Yoongi.

You’re small and silent in Yoongi’s arms, so vulnerable, he keeps you a few paces away from any of the mobsters, bites down a growl whenever any of them come too close to his mate. It’s just the mating bond making it’s self-known. You are his. No one can touch you.

Yoongi has never been a possessive man, but now he is. The mating mark tearing through him and screaming at him to protect, to provide, to nurture, and keep safe. He strokes down your back as his cousin quietly orders the others to clean up the mess and Geumjae’s body. The family has cleanup crews on call for this very reason.

They quietly offer to burn the house down to stage the death but Yoongi doesn’t care. He guesses it belongs to him now or maybe you. It depends on which bond the family will consider more important; the bonds of a half mating or the bond of brotherhood.

“I’ll handle it-“ his cousin has the good grace to offer comfort to Yoongi that way when he gets you into her car. she doesn't say anything about the dents in the side.

Yoongi doesn’t quite hate her for any of this, but he doesn’t trust her the same way he did before either. She’s gotten what she wanted- the Don position. Plucked it from Yoongi’s hands.

“You haven’t had a chance to call the heads of house and tell them about your decision yet, but after that, you should be free to go” she reads him easily as always, The only other manipulator up to par with Yoongi himself in the gang. She knows that not an inch of Yoongi wants to stay in this house or this city a second longer.

At the idea of leaving you to straighten up in Yoongi’s lap to listen in a little more, you share a look with Yoongi. Your mate, your body sings the eye contact makes you shiver in your seat. Yoongi pulls you closer, stroking up to your arm mistakenly thinking you’re cold. You pull yourself closer to him- but it feels like you can’t get close enough, He makes a dissatisfied noise in his throat.

Yoongi will have to get used to this feeling. Like his soul is walking outside of his body. It feels incredibly vulnerable and intimate- He can feel your panic, how physically you’re being torn apart right now, every few minutes you shake. Yoongi puts your legs over his and holds you close. Watching your face closely for every twinge of pain as the lights of the city flicker over you two.

The meeting with the heads of house is tense, though the usual group of is two short now, standing only at eleven members now that Geumjae is gone and Moonbyul is named Don. You cannot be Don and a head of house at the same time.

It takes every bone in Yoongi’s body to let you be taken into the other room by Moonbyul’s mate to check over your injuries. He stops her with a hand on her shoulder. He catches Moonbyul’s nostrils flare, but she doesn’t say anything. “Would you look at her bruises for me?”

Later Yoongi will check them himself, again and again until he's sure you're all right. But the sooner you get ice on the nastier bruises the better off you’ll be. Someone should look at your ribs and your head too- he has half a mind to take you to the hospital before you leave the city. He doesn’t know how long it will be before you’re stationary again. He’d stay in the city tonight if you needed to. But he can feel your panic down the bond, The sooner you both get out of here the better.

With Geumjae dead there is no true opposition against his cousin's rule. She stands at the head of the table like she’s meant to be there. And still- the heads of the families talk through the night, kicking the non-proverbial dead horse into the ground. There is little mourning for Geumjae, one granny who cries faintly in the other room while the heads argue. Yoongi supposes he should look more upset, but no one pays attention to him now that he’s made his choice.

No, what they spend most of the time discuss is you. Sat in the other room, able to hear all of this, the men and woman weighing your fate and deciding what to do with you. If Yoongi listens, he can hear Hyejin’s quiet voice. Can feel your discomfort as the ice hits your ribs, maybe broken, definitely badly bruised.

Yoongi flinches every time he feels the pain pulse down the bond. Maybe in time, it will feel less sensitive but right now- Yoongi can feel your hurts just as bad as he can feel his own. A part of him is reaching out into the other room, screaming in his ear to go comfort his mate.

He has a mate. Yoongi can scarcely believe it.

The gangsters around the table remain blissfully unaware of that fact. Most of the heads are on the same page, and he won’t reveal his mating mark unless he absolutely needs to, he will let that secret stay secret unless necessary. It’s a good bargaining chip. They wouldn’t kill you if they knew it was going to kill him too. But still- it’s hard to hear them argue over your fate when he can’t intervene.

“You know the rules- no divorces and no separations,” one alpha says, he’s older- nearing 60, but Yoongi can’t excuse that cruelty with age. The youngest, the head of the Ahn house does the rebutting for Yoongi, and he bites his tongue.

“But it wouldn’t be a divorce; she’s his widow now and his ex-mate technically.”

“Yes but that’s only a half bond.” There is only one omega head, and the woman snubs her long cigarette out on the table leaving an ashy circle

“It’s only the alpha bite that matters- or have you forgotten?”

To her credit, the omega doesn't back down. “Chances are she’ll die anyway why are we even talking about her, we should start transitioning already.”

“That’s easy to say- if she’s got nothing left to lose what’s to stop her from going to the police.”

“I can keep an eye on her,” Yoongi volunteers, jumping at the chance to turn the discussion to his favor. They can all go fuck themselves if they ever dare to try and hurt you. “You say she’s as good as dead anyway. So you shouldn't mind if she comes with me.”

The likelihood of anyone living after their mate dies is in the teens. Yoongi knew that and even then he bonded to you anyway. He can only hope that with his bite coursing through your veins and your body confused that you’ve got better odds than that. Yoongi did what he promised to do, now your odds are both 50/50. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t go to the police.”

Through the bond he can feel your curiosity and a little bit of fear too, you’re listening in. And he does his best to let his calmness comfort you too. Your panic instantly relaxes and he senses you reaching out. If you were next to Yoongi you’d be holding hands, and it kind of feels that way. If you could ever hold hands with someone’s soul.

“You realize that if you make her your responsibility, anything bad that happens will fall on your head as well” their betas might be sacred- but they aren’t free from the rest of the laws of the gang.

“I understand.” The Don lifts her head, regarding Yoongi with a heavy look. “She’s his widow and whether we want to address it now or not, the law says she’s inherited his wealth.”

It's met with immediate opposition, several heads of house start speaking over each other at once, but Yoongi speaks up again, shouting over them. A beta raising their voice is about as strange as one giving or getting a mating bite, everyone falls silent. “Give it to me or her- I don’t care.”

another few minutes and they’re ready to let you go. they vote on it, and only 3 out of 11 heads vote to have you killed. Moonbyul gives the all clear, “Then you’re free to go.” Yoongi doesn’t even say goodbye, going to you in the other room just as quickly as he can without outright running. The Don’s mate is crouched in front of where you sit. Your body is mostly clean of blood and you’ve been put in other clothes; a pair of sweats and a baggy shirt.

Yoongi can see all the bruises on the side of your face turning purple and Yoongi wants to cup your face and bring it to his, kiss away the pain coloring your skin like watercolors, but can’t do it here. “Do we need to go to the hospital?”

“Not for her but maybe for you, no ones checked you over yet, have they?”

yoongi grits his teeth, seconds away from snapping at hyejin, he wants her to get away, get as far from you as possible. “i asked if she needed the hospital.”

Hyejin stands when Yoongi crouches. shaking her head when it becomes clear yoongi isn’t to be argued with right now. “There’s something wrong with her- but I think you know what” her eyes hover on Yoongi’s hip.

So at least she’s figured it out. She has the good sense to utter the words quietly. Though the people in the other room aren’t concerned with Yoongi anymore, they’ve already launched into discussions about transitioning power and re-defining responsibilities. It seems Moonbyul had a plan on how she wanted the family to run from the beginning.

He shakes off his annoyance, “Thank you,” he says to the omega, holding out a hand to you, which you take, still not saying anything. Tiredness holding you down to the chair. The same kind of look you’d had when Geumjae had died. The mating mark has been taped over but some of the blackness is still there. Yoongi wonders when it will fade, if it ever does.

“I wish I could say I’ll see you soon but I don’t think I will.” You and Yoongi nod, your hands twined between the two of you. She knows that neither you nor Yoongi has a love for the gang. No one stops you and Yoongi when you leave the house. Immediately hailing a taxi. You stop only at Yoongi’s safe house for a spare 20 minutes, while he packs up a fraction of his belongings in a hurried rush, anything to get out before someone tries to change their mind.

If Geumjae had any hidden loyalists the beta that killed him and his runaway wife would be the first targets. Let alone their reaction if they knew who had really killed Geumjae. The quicker the two of you get away from the city the better.

You end up at the train station, Yoongi breaks the bracelets off of your wrist- the same ones that he saw you wear on you the first night- and the ones that he’s always thought looked like shackles. He yanks at them as hard as he can until they snap; kissing your wrist after each one is off. You throw them over the side of the chain-link fence and into the darkness- to be lost forever you hope. The symbols of all you’ve lost.

When you get on the train, you cuddle close under Yoongi’s jacket and into his warmth. He’s a protective barrier between you and the third seat that thankfully remains empty this late into the night it’s so late it’s nearly early morning. Most of the train is empty besides an elderly couple at the front. Regardless, the two of you sit behind them. Yoongi can’t take his eyes off of the potential threat. Actually flinches when the conductor comes around to stamp your tickets.

You head off into the night- your little box of light in a sea of street lamps and hidden dangers. You almost fall asleep a few times, head bobbing as you catching yourself before it hits his shoulder. After the third time this happens he pulls you in close, tucks your head close to his scent gland, and commands “sleep” in a voice that you cannot disobey.

Eventually, you wake, the car is bright with the midday sun and the car is half full. Yoongi’s eyes are bloodshot as they train on every passenger who comes in and leaves your train car. Yoongi holds your hand, rubbing his thumb up and down the back in an endless trail. A conductor opens the door of your train car to pass through, bunching a few tickets here and there from the new passengers who have boarded the train.

He passes by where you're bundled and Yoongi flinches so hard it wakes you fully. his shoulder accidentally nudging a bruise on your cheek, He murmurs his apologies, panicked hands fussing over you. He could feel that he hit one of your bruises and the horror of hurting you make him wide-eyed and worried. You catch his hands, pressing the pads of them to your lips. Yoongi's hands shake as they touch you, hours later, he's still high on adrenaline.

“You need to sleep Yoongi” it’s been a long few days for both of you.

He doesn’t answer with more than a grunt. But you get off the train at the next stop and it’s nearing noon by the time the two of you stumble across the street to a motel, and it’s shitty and smells like cigarettes and the lady at the front desk asks if you need the hourly rate or the daily rate. Though she does give you a discount because Yoongi’s a beta. Eyeing the blood-soaked collar of his jacket and the bloody bandages on your neck.

You should be holed up somewhere safe away from prying eyes to adjust to your new mating bite- not in a hotel where the smells of other people assault your nose. Making you press close to Yoongi because everything smells so new and scary. Like your senses have been turned up and only Yoongi can quell their sensitivity.

you don’t realize that the attendant gave you two beds until you get to the room. you both stare blankly before you cough and separated. the closeness too much now that you’re alone and free from threats. Though it doesn't feel that way.

you hate it- you don’t want to curl up across the room from Yoongi- you want to be next to him. you almost whimper when he He steps away to the other bed to set down his backpack. You want to cry, your skin feels irritated and itchy without his pressed to yours. You want him to touch you but you can’t stay it. Don’t know how to ask around the thickness in your throat.

He gets a clean shirt from his black backpack and helps you put it on so that you don’t irritate the mating bite. You can’t lift either of your arms much and neither can he but he pushes through the pain for you. He only has 2 or three sets of clothes that he grabbed from the cottage, and it’s all you’ve got.

“We’ll get some more clothes for you tomorrow.” He doesn’t say that you should have grabbed some of your clothes- because you both know you couldn’t handle staying in that house a second more than was necessary. You barely thought to linger long enough to grab your purse, which thankfully had everything you really need in it.

Somehow he has athletic tape in his bag, and he spends a few minutes changing out your soaked through bandages, bundling up toilet paper, and taping it over your mating bite. Only after yours is taken care of does he let you do the same for his bite on his hip, and the burns on his hands.

You pull his pants off and then his boxers down just enough so that you can get at it, small from your mouth, the skin around it irritated and pink. You try not to let your eyes hover on the small happy trail that traces from his belly button downwards. The band on his boxers is stained with blood- and you wonder how much it hurt to have it dig into it all day.

You curl up in separate beds, and only when you’re under the covers do you slide off your pants. leaving you only in a large shirt that smells like yoongi. Yoongi does the same, says “goodnight” and shuts off the light but doesn’t turn away from you, keeping his eyes on you in the darkness.

You’re silent for a few minutes, but you can tell that neither of you is falling asleep. Your bed feels cold and you wonder if he feels the same, you let the distance hurt for a minute before you give in.

"Thank fucking god-" He peels back the blanket for you the second you make the move and dash across the cold room. you scoot into his warmth and he lets out a little ‘oof’ when you collide. Letting him pull you closer, put the blanket over your back, and make sure all of your skin is covered.

It’s not enough for Yoongi and he pulls you sideways so that he can get some of his weight on top of you. A growl building in his chest at the thought of anyone walking through the door right now.

He needs to check the lock, make sure that no one can possibly disturb you. Needs to- the instinct filling him so harshly he can’t breathe. He tries to pull away, but your hands tighten on him, and you let out a whine so heartbreaking that instantly has him releasing comforting chocolate, flopping back on top of you nuzzling under your chin, you feel like you’re drowning in it.

Your love with Yoongi is still too new and raw to be close like this without feeling shy- and yet you can’t resist, your mating bond is like a fresh burn that you can’t stop picking at because it hurts. (Like there’s something dead there that you need to get rid of, you can’t heal around, you need to tear it out so that it feels more like bleeding rather than something that was carved out by hungry heat.) You fiddle with the bandage at your neck before Yoongi takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together.

For a moment, you crave the release that blood might give you- and like he can feel it. Yoongi presses a kiss to the back of your hand. “Couldn’t sleep?” Yoongi says. You shake your head. The motel creeks and overhead you can hear someone else moving in an adjacent room. Yoongi gets his head on your pillow and adjusts his hand around your waist so that he’s not hitting the vicious bruise that Geumjae left with one of his kicks.

The last 24 hours have been such a tangle. It feels weird to not move now. Yoongi’s heart is still hammering; you can feel it under your palm. You’re both unwilling to relax and close your eyes even for a second even though you’re both exhausted.

You’re worried if you close your eyes you’re going to see Geumjae's face.

Yoongi left the light in the bathroom on for you. Sensing that the shadows would be too thick with nightmares for you to handle for long. You look at each other in the darkness before Yoongi lets out a shaky little giggle.

“Do you know what I just realized?” he says, the words quieted against the too scratchy bedspread. “We could have gotten a better hotel, we easily have enough money for it now” and that’s true.

If Yoongi’s orders were followed and the gang's accountant really did transfer all of your inherited wealth to your name then- fuck- both of you saw the bank statements. Both of you know how much money Yoongi’s family had amassed- the same wealth that Geumjae had inherited and now you.

“Fuck you’re right,” you say, ducking in so that you don’t have to meet Yoongi’s eyes. Geumjae used to hit you sometimes if you did that- and trained habits die-hard.

yoongi kisses your brow, slow little pecks that travel down your cheeks, as unhurried as they are sweet. It's strange to be close to him now when it’s all you’ve wanted for the last few months. You never thought you’d get this. It feels like a daydream and a nightmare all at once.

“We could buy a whole house- or three” and even then you’d have more than enough money to live on after. For the rest of your days, comfortable and cozy even if you were foolish with the money. Yoongi still gets his stipend from the gang. No doubt to be greater now that he’s the only beta.

He stops his kisses, mouth hovering on your cheek, “We could do that.” he sounds like he’s barely containing his excitement.

You’ll both be fine. Neither of you will ever have to worry about money again and it makes you feel sick and happy with something that feels a terrible lot like grief.

Even if you got that- the last 24 hours haven’t been worth it. You’re not entirely out of the woods yet. The mark on your shoulder is scabbing over and inky. But every few hours of closeness that the two of you have- Yoongi think’s he sees the color fade- just a little bit.

You don’t know where the giggle comes from but one moment it comes out of your mouth and you laugh, and Yoongi joins in the sound startling out of his chest. He presses his forehead tight against yours and sighs at the sound. You see the moment clarity falls on him and an idea settles into his mind the second it hits. And dim happiness settles over your bond.

Yoongi lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses your bruised knuckles. “Let's buy a house.”

You smile- tired from today but still willing to placate him. “Okay Yoongi, we can do that.”

Now finally, his eyes are starting to droop, every few seconds he tries to keep them open, but you know he's seconds away from sleep. His words slurred when they whisper, his sweet chocolaty breath tickling your cheeks. “Goodnight sweetheart- love you.”

“Love you too,” it’s the first time you’ve ever said those words to each other. It feels like the first of many times you’ll say it. Forever- you and Yoongi will be mated together until you both die. And who cares if that happens tomorrow or months from now. Who cares? Because you have him and that’s all that matters.

Yoongi holds you and knows- that he will love you- as long as he can.

He watches you sleep, waits until your eyes are closed. Until he can make sure you’re safe and warm. A gentle purring fills the hotel room, soft and peaceful. yoongi hears it louder when he presses his ear to your chest. He tries to keep his eyes open, but somewhere around the second hour- they fall closed.

Neither of you dream.

—————

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katmoonz · 3 years ago

Text

Pretty Girl Can Take It

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2k

Includes: Rough sex, Dom!Remus, Sub!Reader, overstimulation, praise kink, orgasms, fingering, mention of squirting, slightest bit of crying, pet names, aftercare, smut, fluff

Do not post any of my work anywhere else!!! I’m fine with reblogs but not with people stealing my work.

Notes: This took me so long to write, it was supposed to be just an aftercare fic but I got a bit carried away setting the scene and ended up with 90% smut, here’s the result...

“I'm gonna cum” you moan as your boyfriend Remus Lupin pounds into you roughly from behind.

You and Remus had been at it for a while and you'd cum twice already but he kept going overstimulating you, loving the way that it made you clench around his length whilst letting out loads of little gasps and moans.

Remus slows down and pulls you by the hair so that you are on your knees leaning back against him.

“Darling, you ask when you want to cum, you should know that by now” he grunts into your ear as he pauses in his thrusts.

“No, no, no, please don’t stop!” You whine.

“M’pretty baby is so needy for me, isn’t she? Ask nicely and I might give you what you want.” Remus says gruffly in your ear.

Remus starts kissing down the side of your neck leaving marks whilst grabbing one of your breasts in his hand. This makes your pussy throb and become even more wet.

“Please let me cum, I need to cum so bad it hurts” you moan with tears in your eyes.

Remus lets go of your hair and pushes on your back making you gasp as you resume your previous position on your hands and knees.

“Good girl,” he says, leaving one last kiss on your neck before he starts thrusting into you hard and fast, making tears fall down your face at the delicious mix of pain and pure pleasure he was giving you.

You can feel your orgasm building up and get even more desperate for relief.

As if sensing this, Remus brings a hand down and starts rubbing at your clit desperate to bring you pleasure, his cock hitting your g-spot with every thrust.

It’s so overwhelming that your hands give in and you end up resting on your forearms with your head buried into the pillow as Remus vigorously thrusts into you.

Finally, you fall over the precipice, your legs shaking as you let out a guttural moan. You feel so relieved as your pussy clenches around Remus’ cock.

You can feel Remus’ cock twitch as he releases inside of you, groaning into your ear, his cum warm as he loses himself in your pussy.

You feel so sensitive after three orgasms and want nothing more than to cuddle up with your gorgeous boyfriend but Remus has other plans as he quickly pulls out and flips you over onto your back.

You let out a high pitch whine as he shoves three fingers into your slick pussy and rubs at your still aching clitoris with his thumb.

“Too much” you whine pitifully.

“M’pretty girl can take it though can’t she?” replies Remus through gritted teeth, a droplet of sweat falls down his head as he focuses all of his strength on making you orgasm again.

“Pretty girl can take it” you repeat back. Your head is fuzzy from all of the pleasure and overstimulation.

Remus grins and rubs your clit in quick but effective circles. He works your clit to the point where you’re on the edge of cumming again.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum.” you moan letting Remus know that you are almost there.

Remus suddenly stops rubbing your clit and slows down the fingers which he keeps within your throbbing pussy.

“Nooo” you whine “please don’t stop”

“You gonna be my good girl?” He asks with a twinkle in his eye.

“Yes! I’ll be your good girl”

Remus resumes his previous actions of thrusting his fingers into your pussy, putting all of the force from his forearm into each thrust.

Once again you feel your orgasm build up behind your navel as your legs start to twitch.

“Please” you moan out

Remus grins up at you, sweat dripping down his forehead. “Please what love?”

You look at him with tears pouring down your face “Please can I cum” you beg.

Remus keeps going for another few seconds before letting out a single sentence “Cum for me baby”

You let go and feel your entire body shake in pleasure as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Remus stops rubbing your clit but keeps thrusting his fingers into your pussy.

You try to pull away but are met with a slap to your thigh.

“Hold still” he barks out.

“Too much, too much.” You whine out still sniffling.

“Just one more darlin, I promise,” he says with a slight frown upon his face from concentration.

Remus curls his fingers a bit more so that they brush off of your g-spot every time he thrusts them in.

You feel another orgasm building up inside of you but it feels slightly different.

“Oh” you moan as you feel sparks almost like electricity go through your body.

“Does that feel good love?” He says licking the sweat from his lip before increasing the pace again.

You nod in response to his question, your hands grabbing onto the bedsheets.

You can hear your pussy squelch as the pressure builds. The pleasure is almost too much to handle.

“Please” you beg again not sure of what you're asking for.

“Good girl, cum for me” he pants out as his thumb comes back to rub furiously at your clit.

This topples you over the edge for the last time, your eyes roll back and your vision goes white as your entire body shakes.

You squeal as your legs uncontrollably shake and your pussy contracts around Remus’ digits.

“Good girl”

As your orgasm fades away you start to feel the ache of overstimulation from Remus’ fingers which remain within your pussy. You whine and squirm trying to get away from the fingers, tears falling down your face.

“Shh it’s okay, we’re done now you did such a good job, my good girl.” Remus gently removes his fingers from you and puts them in his mouth sucking all of the delicious pussy juices off of them before sitting back against the headboard and pulling you into his lap.

“Such a pretty girl, you took that so well.” He runs his hand through your hair as he praises you before bringing your face into his hands. Gently he wipes away the tears that have fallen.

“So good” he kisses you on the forehead before bringing you back into his chest.

As you regain awareness of your surroundings you feel Remus’ heart thump beneath your face and the bed beneath you feels damp with sweat.

“Did we really sweat that much? s’not that hot in here.” You mumble into him.

Remus lets out a chuckle before leaning back and bringing a finger under your chin to make you look up at him.

“Sweetheart it's not sweat, you squirted”

Your eyes widen in realisation before you bury your head back into his chest hiding your face from him in embarrassment.

“Aww, don’t be embarrassed love, it was so fuckin’ sexy” he says as he strokes your back one more time before standing up and carrying you to the bathroom.

“C’mon baby, let's have a quick bath before bed” he places you on the bathroom counter before walking over to the bath to fill it up.

As the water starts running he starts to mess around with some bottles, picking one up he turns to face you “Lavender?” he asks.

You look up at him whilst biting your lip “yes, please”

He pours the lavender-scented bubble bath in before coming back over to you, he lifts you up and brings you over to the toilet to take care of your business, whilst you do that he leaves the room to go and fetch some towels.

Coming back into the room he switches off the water before walking over to you, he picks you up and brings you over to the bath gently placing you in the tub before getting in behind you.

Your thighs are still trembling slightly from all of the overstimulation, Remus pulls you back into his chest and runs his hands over your arms before kissing you gently on the neck.

“M’pretty girl” he mumbles as he brings his hands down to cup your breasts whilst nuzzling your neck. Remus gently squeezes each breast, massaging them lightly with his muscular hands before stopping to pick up a washcloth.

Remus gathers up some soap and starts slowly washing you down, he starts with your arms so that he can keep you against his chest then he puts down the cloth so that he can put soap on his hands, he gently washes your torso with his hands taking extra care around your breasts.

Remus picks the cloth back up and pushes you forward slightly to do your back, he does so quickly so that he can take you back into his arms as soon as possible. Next, he moves on to your pussy, the water in the tub had been soothing it whilst you were relaxing. Remus brings his hand down to clean it but at the first touch you whine and flinch.

“Shhh darling, it’s okay, I’m just cleaning you up I promise.” He soothes

Remus tries to clean you again and succeeds but you still flinch, tears start to fall down your face at the touch on your clit which has been overstimulated beyond belief.

“Oh baby, I’m sorry” he holds you in his arms and rocks you slightly trying to calm you down a bit before he tilts your head back to look into your eyes. “I love you” he proclaims before giving you a soft kiss on the forehead.

“Would you like me to do your hair m’love or are you too tired?” He questions with a soft look in his eyes.

“M’sleepy” you mumble as you lean back further into his arms.

“Okay darlin’, I’ll take you to bed in a few minutes” he softly strokes the side of your face before picking up the wash cloth to quickly clean himself.

After a couple of minutes he stops, stands up and gets out of the tub. Remus being the gentleman that he is takes your hand and leads you out of the tub before wrapping a towel around you.

You move to return to the bedroom but he stops you with a hand on the waist, confused and tired you turn around to look at him.

Remus lifts you up and places you on the counter, he rummages around for a minute before coming out with your skincare products.

“I’ve got to take care of you m’love, let me just do this real quick”

Remus gently washes your face before applying your toner and moisturiser all whilst looking into your eyes. His gaze is soft and sweet as it usually is post-coitus a contrast to the burning dominant look in his eyes that he has in the bedroom.

After finishing your skincare routine Remus lifts you off of the counter and carries you back to the bedroom, placing you on the bed.

Remus walks over to the dresser and searches for a minute before picking out one of his T-shirt’s, he throws it over to you and picks out a pair of underwear for himself.

Remus walks back over to you and gets you to stand up, he lifts up the covers on the bed then motions for you to lay down and he kisses you on the head before walking around to the other side of the bed and getting in with you.

Remus pulls you into his arms, wrapping them around you in a warm embrace. You look up at him sleepily, “I really wore you out this time didn’t I?” he chuckles.

“Love you so much” you whisper before leaning up to kiss him softly on the lips.

“I love you too darling” replies Remus fondly.

You rest your head against his chest and listen to his slow breaths and steady heartbeat, you can feel yourself getting more relaxed and sleepy.

The last thing you feel as you drift off to sleep is Remus’ hand soothingly rubbing your back as he holds you in his arms.

Taglist

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