#noone sends me asks anymore

[readandwritesilver]

do u still write mq?

maybe ! if you have a request send it to me and no promises but i probably will write it😁 but i don't really write it of my own volition anymore, just not super into where the show has gone.

i don't write much fic in general anymore lol. most of the stuff on my ao3 was written when i was like 15/16 and i have a lot more responsabilities (and also a lot more friends😭) than i did at that age. i still love to write, but i also just find more enjoyment in writing long 10k-20k+ word pieces that i work on over many months and post when i feel like it instead of like four 2k oneshots a week (not that i didn't enjoy it at the time, just not so much my style anymore)

[gildalilli]

Had to take the day off from work today, anyone wanna chat about our blorbos?

[chukys-mouthguard]

What if?

Genre: fluff

Word count: 3,229 words

Featuring: matt rempe x female reader

Warnings: drunk guy being an asshole at the bar, aggressive/protective Matt

Note: okay, this is the first thing I’ve written in years, please be kind 😅 I just got a thing for this man now idk…feel free to send in some requests or let me know if you want more to this story? Not sure if it will be a one off or a little series

“Okay, how do I look?” You walk down the hall of your apartment, stopping to pose for Matt so he can give you his stamp of approval. He eyes you up and down, as if he is going to deliver some harsh critique. Your outfit is nothing crazy; jeans, a gray long sleeved bodysuit, black heeled boots, and a small cross body bag. With the New York City weather still chilly out, you figured it would keep you warm along with the alcohol you’d be consuming.

“Beautiful as always. But let’s try and keep the collecting of guys' phone numbers to a minimum tonight huh?” You laughed as you playfully smacked Matt’s arm. Making your way to the fridge to grab your High Noon you’d started sipping on before getting dressed. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous Matthew Rempe.” He shot you a cocky smirk as he leaned on the kitchen island next to you. “Me? Jealous? Never. Because I’m the one in your apartment and not them.” You rolled your eyes as you swallowed down the last bit of seltzer before unplugging your phone from the charger nearby. “Okay Mr. Chauffeur, let’s hit the road.”

You loved having Matt in NYC playing with the Rangers. The two of you had been best friends since you were teenagers, though you’d lost touch a bit once you moved to New York. Matt’s stint in Hartford allowed the chance to slowly reconnect, but having him now with the Rangers was even better. The two of you often spent nights at each other's apartments, going out to dinner, and of course you attended every home game you could to see Matt play.

You’d always had a soft spot for Matt. Sure he was a bit intimidating being practically 7 feet tall, his knuckles cut up or bruised half the time, and a black eye never seeming to catch you off guard anymore. But you’d gotten close enough to see the side of him most people don’t experience. Though you never imagined your relationship being anything more than what it was. Friends, and nothing more than that. But you couldn’t deny the way you had paid attention to how he’d grown into a man. He had outgrown his awkward phase, and you now looked at him and saw him as handsome, not cute or adorable like he was when you were growing up.

You constantly find yourself thinking, what if you weren’t just imagining things? When he spends the night and walks into your room wearing just a towel after a shower. The way he hugs you and lingers longer than just a friend would. The way he takes care of you when you’re drunk. Or nights like tonight, where he’s willing to stay up late to be your designated driver when he’s got an early morning skate and a big game tomorrow night.

Just one day, one day you’d love to kiss him and see what happens. Or flirt a little extra and see if he takes the bait. But you also don’t want to lose your best friend in the process, or be turned down and embarrassed for thinking he’d ever feel that way about you.

“So what’s the plan for tonight?” Matt asks as he puts a hand on the back of your seat as he looks over his shoulder, backing out of his parking space. It’s such a cliche action, but boy does he look good doing it, and your heart certainly skipped a beat.

“The typical routine. Start at Tucker’s. Then move on to 1989. Then finish-“ “At Coop’s?” Matt smirked as he looked out at the road. One hand on the wheel with the other resting on his thigh. He was literally in jeans and a hoodie yet somehow he looked just as good as he does in a suit on game day. “Either that means I go out too much, or you’re finally starting to pay attention when I tell you things.” “Definitely not paying attention, it’s you going out too much.” He laughed as you playfully punched his arm, pulling out your phone to text your friends that you were a few minutes away.

“So Cooper’s closes at 2:30, but I honestly don’t think I’ll last that long. Especially because someone has a big game tomorrow! And I wanna be well rested. So let’s plan for like 12:30/1? Is that okay?” You looked at Matt a bit apologetic, knowing he’d have to be up early for morning skate. But he was always adamant about driving you, no matter what time it was.

“Of course, you know I’ll be here no matter the time. I’ll plan to be at Coop’s around 12:45. I’ll come in to get you too, it’s gonna be cold and dark out. I don’t want you walking to find me.” You put a hand to his cheek as you make a joking pouty expression. “Aww, such a gentleman Matty.” He smiled at your touch, almost leaning into your hand as he looked back at you, “Anything for you. Now go on, I know the girls are waiting. Text me if you need anything, and I mean anything y/n. I’m not that far of a drive.” You let out a sigh as you undid your seatbelt, “Honestly Matt, nothing to worry about, I’ll be fine.” You blew him an air kiss as you exited the car, heading into the first bar of the night. Matt sat and watched you show your ID to the man at the door, waiting until he saw you get inside safely to drive away.

As promised, Matt arrived at Cooper's around 12:45. He was thankful that you and your friends chose to end your nights at a bar that wasn’t too crazy, but also not too crowded that he might be recognized. Just to be safe he threw on a hat to shield his face as much as he could, though the bar was so dark he doubted anyone would be able to make out his face in the crowd.

He handed his ID to the bouncer before making his way inside. He texted you a simple “I’m here”, you would know his typical meeting place and where to go. You were in the restroom when Matt texted, quickly replying “bathroom, be right out” before you sighed as you stared blankly at the wall. The line in the girls restroom always 100 times longer than it was for the guys.

Matt didn’t mind waiting, he checked some scores on his phone. Assuming that the line was long since girls love to use the buddy system when going to the bathroom. He scanned the crowd and enjoyed people watching, nodding his head and smiling softly as your friends gave him a wave from across the bar. He checked the time again, before glancing over towards the hallway to find you pushing past a crowd of girls to exit the restrooms. He chuckled to himself as he saw the frustration on your face, knowing you probably waited 20 minutes just to pee. He started to walk towards you but fell back as he noticed a guy stop you in your tracks.

“Can I help you?” You looked at the man a bit confused, you’d recognized him from the crowd of people, but hadn’t interacted with him much. He was out with a group of guys for someone’s birthday. You only knew that because they mentioned it to you and your friends at least 30 times. Definitely trying to help the birthday boy get laid. “I noticed you’d left your friends, I thought maybe my shot at getting to buy you a drink was gone.” You chuckled to yourself, why does this have to happen in front of Matthew?

“Oh, yeah, I’m actually on my way out. So, maybe another time. Sorry.” You try to excuse yourself but he moves with you, cutting you off. “Oh come on, one more drink isn’t gonna hurt anyone. Or if you want we could go somewhere else, just the two of us and get a drink.” He had a cocky grin on his face as you looked at him in disgust. He was clearly drunk, and wasn’t keen on taking no for an answer. You looked at Matt standing just a few feet away, a concerned look on his face as he wasn’t sure what was going on.

“Look, I’m not interested, okay?” He scoffed as he seemed to be a bit insulted by your comment. “Not interested, you and your friends were dancing right up against our group all night. I saw the way you were eyeing all of us guys, I’d say you were interested sweet heart.” You gagged at the smell of alcohol on his breath as he got closer to you. “Yeah news flash buddy, it’s a small fucking bar. My option was dancing right next to people or on the bar.”

As you tried walking past him to get to Matt, you felt a tight grip on your wrist pull you back, “That sounds hot, can you put on a show just for me?” His hands attempted to grab more than just your wrists but before you could react Matt was already stepping in, pulling the guy away from you and pinning him to the wall by the collar of his shirt. “Don’t you dare fucking touch her like that.”

You were a bit taken aback at the way Matt stepped in. Sure he’d protected you from dumb drunk guys before, but never like this. His jaw clenched as his grip tightened on the collar of the man’s shirt. “And what the fuck are you gonna do about it huh? What are you her little brother or something? Ain’t no way you’re banging a bitch like that.” Matt’s grip tightened on his collar as he pushed him harder into the wall, “what did you just call her?!” His voice louder, drawing a bit of attention, thankfully none yet from the bouncer.

“A bitch, and what are you gonna do about it?” The drunk dumbass laughed in Matt’s face and you knew this wouldn’t end well.

Before you could step in, Matt’s fist connected with the guy's jaw, causing him to stumble to the floor. Before pulling himself together and running off to the restroom.

“Fuck!”

Matt shook his hand as he winced, immediately realizing he fucked up but his anger got the best of him. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” You grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door. Thank god no one seemed to really notice the altercation that just took place.

The walk to the car was quiet as Matt was still fuming, you simply climbed into the passenger in silence. He gripped the steering wheel tight with his good hand as he peeled out of the parking lot. You sat next to him, studying his face to see when it might be a good time to say something. Blue and purple started to appear across the knuckles on the hand that threw the punch as he let out a large sigh.

“I’m sorry.”

You let out a soft laugh as you rested a hand on his thigh, softly holding his bruised hand, careful not to hurt him. “Sorry for what? You didn’t do anything wrong? You stepped in as I would’ve hoped you would the second that guy put his hands on me. Don’t be sorry for that!” He seemed to relax at your touch, so you kept your hand on his, slowly brushing your thumb over his skin to attempt to calm him down.

The rest of the car ride was quiet, the two of you heading back to Matt’s apartment since he had to be up early for practice. You kept your eyes on him, studying the look on his face, wishing you were in his head to know what the heck he was thinking. He took your hand in his as you two walked through the quiet parking garage, then headed up the elevator.

You knew your way around his place, first going to his room to grab an oversized t-shirt to throw on before heading to the bathroom to take off your makeup. Matt was sweet enough to go out and buy you your own toiletries to keep at his place. Including your makeup remover and even your 4 step skincare routine.

Matt came to join you in the bathroom as you brushed your teeth. He smiled at the sight of you as he leaned against the wall: your hair in a messy bun, his oversized Seattle Thunderbirds t shirt covering you up enough while still giving him a good view of your legs. “What?” You chuckled as you tried not to choke on the tooth paste threatening to fall from your lips. He just shook his head, “Just glad nothing bad happened to you tonight. I’m glad I was there.” He took your hand, his fingers fiddling with yours, “I just kept thinking what if i wasn’t there, I couldn’t handle it if anything would’ve happened.”

You looked at him in the mirror, relief and exhaustion covered his face. “I’m really glad you were there too, but I really hope we don’t end up with a possible scandal on our hands.” You started laughing as you exited the bathroom, Matthew following suit. “New York Rangers rookie Matthew Rempe gets in a bar fight over a girl.” You spoke in a sarcastic newscaster voice as you made your way to the freezer, grabbing a bag of frozen peas to tend to Matt’s fist bearing the proof of his heroic actions at the bar.

Matt chuckled along with you before wincing at the feeling of the cold bag on his hand, “If it happens, so be it, I was ready to knock that son of a bitch out after what he said to you.” You shot him a glare, “Matthew Rempe. Absolutely not, I am not worth you getting in trouble with the team because of a dumb bar fight.” He walked over to you, now the one shooting you a glare. His arms rested on either side of your waist as he gripped the edge of the counter. “Y/n, yes you fucking are.” You shot him a look as he swiftly picked you up and sat you on the island in front of him. A cocky grin coming across his face at how caught off guard you were, gripping his biceps tight as his hands now moved to rest on your thighs. “I’d fight 20 guys at the bar if they put their hands on you and said shit like that guy tonight.” His tone now more serious, his smirk fading as you two stared at one another for what seemed like an hour. The voice in your head screaming at you, this is your what if moment. Take it or leave it, but it may never come again. What if he’s trying to confess his feelings, what if he’s trying to make a move but he’s too scared. What if you just beat him to the punch. What if-

Before your brain could even rationalize a thought or an action, you felt Matt’s lips crash into yours. His hands cupping your face as yours snaked up his neck to grab a handful of his hair. The kiss like fireworks and a weight being lifted off your shoulders all at once. He began to smile into the kiss, before pulling away with a slight laugh.

“Oh yeah, that’s exactly what every girl wants. The guys she’s been dreaming of kissing to pull away laughing!” You rolled your eyes and frowned at him as a look of shock washed over his face. “Been dreaming of kissing huh??? I knew it!” You immediately turned red, covering your face with your hands, though Matt found it extremely cute.

His hands gripping your thighs before lifting you off the counter, “It’s okay, i get it. I’m sure there’s lots of girls out there who dream of kissing me.” “Matt! Shut up!” You laughed as he carried you down the hall into his room, tossing you on the bed while he finally changed out of his jeans and sweatshirt. “Hey, listen…if you’re interested, maybe we could work something out so that you can be the only girl who gets to kiss me from now on. How does that sound?”

You barely heard him, too busy staring as he stood in just his underwear in front of you. Your eyes tracing every detail of him before his laugh interrupted your thoughts. “Damn, one kiss and all of sudden you’re just head over heels huh?” You pull a pillow over your face out of embarrassment as you feel the bed sink beneath his weight. Matthew now hovering above you as he pulls the pillow away from your face.

He brushed some hair from your face as your fingers play with his chain hanging from his neck, “you really want to kiss me and only me from now on?” You blushed as he shook his head laughing at you, “of course you goof! That’s all I’ve wanted for like the last 5 years, probably even longer!” You felt yourself trying to fight a smile, though you were sure your cheeks were bright red, letting Matt know you liked his response.

He laid next to you as you continued to play with his chain, now resting on his chest. His thumb tracing circles on your thigh as you smiled like a dork to yourself, your heart bursting with excitement that all your what ifs had come true.

“So if I agree to this-“ you say up, trying to pull a serious face as you looked down at him. His hands still glued to your thighs, as if he couldn’t get enough of touching you now. “Do I get a cute custom Rempe jean jacket or something to wear to your games? Like I wanna be decked out and I want people to know that I'm the only girl you’re kissing from now on.” Matt rolled his eyes and laughed at your change of tone, as you babbled on and on about your ‘conditions’ should you agree to this. But he loved the thought of you in a Rempe jacket at his games, getting to see afterwards and kiss you like crazy after a big win, to have you be his biggest fan cheering him on every night. Even though you already were, now it would be more special.

“Listen.”

Matt cut you off as he pulled you into his lap, his hand pulling your face to his as he kissed you. This time the kiss was soft, as he took his time to really take in the feeling of finally getting to kiss you and be this close to you. “If you be my girlfriend, I’ll get you whatever jacket you want, I’ll get you the best seats at the Garden for my games, you name it. Just make me the happiest guy ever and be my girlfriend!” You laughed at how he begged like a little kid who couldn’t contain their excitement.

“Yes-“ you peppered his face with a hundred kisses, “Matthew Rempe, I would absolutely love to be your girlfriend.”

[celenawrites]

John Price is a natural leader.

Always taking the lead on the field and off duty. Always confident, self-assured in his abilities to guide himself and others through difficult situations with ease.

He's always so worried about his team - slipping in some antihistamines in Gaz's pockets whenever his dust allergies kick in and make his sneezes ring out on base at ungodly hours, making sure Johnny doesn't end up recklessly in another communal mess 'fight'', and checking up on Simon after a rough mission drains all life out of his blue eyes, leaving him dull and mute from the trauma of surviving another war.

He never forgets to wish his teammates birthday, always tries his best to push them to take extra leaves so they can visit family and rest after an arduous mission, and even indulges in their frivolous past times, if only to make time pass by easier.

He always remembers to send Kate and her wife flowers as a 'thank you' for hosting him for dinner, never forgets to call Laswell and congratulate her on successful jobs, and makes sure to send the finest bottle of wine for letting some of his 'rebellious actions' go under the radar.

So when he finally comes down with the seasonal flu, you take it upon yourself to reciprocate the generosity he graces everyone with - not letting the man leave the warm, soft bed as you tend to every need of his throughout the day.

"Sweetheart, get back to bed. I'll be fine", John tells you but his stuffy nose makes his voice sound more nasally than usual.

You tut at him, recalling his high temperature, "I cannot laze around while you're suffering and need me, John. Now let me take care of you, and put the cold compress on."

"Yes ma'am."

You run around, from room to room - arranging things and making sure to check in on your dear fiance to make sure he's not in pain while you prepare some home remedies for him.

A herbal mixture you make him drink for his sore throat, which Price downs with a small wince; changing his cold compress with a new one so he can rest comfortably. Turning down the lights so that his eyes don't smart anymore, and he can actually take a nap around noon while you work on lunch - chicken noodle soup and warm porridge that can warm him up from inside and are easy on the stomach - recalling every little trick your Mum did whenever you got sick.

And when you finally come back in the room to find John sleeping, you take a moment to breathe calmly as you slowly admire him. His flushed cheeks, freshly-trimmed mutton chops, his freckle on his nose and how his nose scrunches up while he's deep in his sleep, and how oddly comforting it is - to have him in your home, to see him resting after months of separation and knowing that he possibly hasn't slept this peacefully in ages.

"Take a picture, darling. It'll last ya longer", calls out a raspy voice, followed by a dry chuckle.

Felling your ears warm up at being caught by the very object of your attention, you promptly deflect, "Oh, shut it, you big dork. Lunch's ready, if you'd like to have it."

"With you?" John asks rhetorically, with a small fond smile on his face.

"Always."

[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desires Ch 14

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, smut eluded to briefly, mentions of typical BAU type stuff. If any of y’all are my ao3 ppl, bless you & thank you for all the extra comments & chatting about this story! I absolutely love hearing all your thoughts/opinions/what you think is gonna happen. Like, yes please, send me your full book reports! Everybody gets an A++

After last chapter; for anyone who might want to look into more Heather Dunbar, all her works can be found here

Your eyes twitched, daring to open long before you wanted them to and you stifled a yawn, shifting slightly in the bed. As your senses came to you could feel Heather’s arm very loosely thrown over your waist, though it wasn’t an act of intimacy and definitely wasn’t cuddling. You’d accidentally fallen asleep in her bed the night prior before she could even bring you a bottle of water, exhausted from the heat and sun and thoroughly fucked. She stayed up for another couple of hours before turning in herself and sometime during her sleep had rolled over closer to you, her hand flopping across your hip.

The chirping out the window became too much and you knew you weren’t going to get anymore sleep, no matter how hard you tried. Your eyes cracked open, looking at the clock on the nightstand, at least it was already past nine, you’d gotten a little bit of a sleep in. Tossing Heather’s arm off you, you groaned softly as you sat up, stretching out your body and rolling your neck, a couple of joints cracking as you did so.

“Why the hell are you up?” She grumbled, burying her face into the pillow.

“Our flight’s at noon.” You yawned, “I’ve got to start packing.”

“I own the fucking plane. We take off when I say we take off.”

“Check out is also at noon.” You chuckled, swatting at her hip as you stood from the bed, beginning to collect your clothes that were scattered across the floor.

“You really think I didn’t already pay them off for a three p.m. checkout?” She finally opened her eyes, rubbing at them as she looked up at you and you laughed softly again.

“Then sleep. I need to shower and pack and probably get a few things ready for the week, we were so focused on the retreat I know I must’ve been missing a few things back home.” You crossed through the open door back to your room.

“God.” She huffed, dropping onto her back into the pillows as she picked up her phone, “it better not be fucking snowing back home.”

“Heather please, it barely snows in D.C.” You laughed as you hastily folded the clothes in your hands, dropping them into your open suitcase as you glanced around the room. “Hey, is Rob still off on Sundays?”

“Yeah.” She called back, “he said something about wanting to make a late dinner tonight.”

“You think you can ask him to meet us at the jet?”

“Why?” She sat up, holding the bedsheet to her chest as concern took over her face, knowing just how much a week of travel and this amount of sun exposure could affect you, “are you feeling sick? I need you for that merger meeting.”

“I’m fine.” You cast a look over your shoulder as you wrapped a towel around you, “I’ve just got a date with Prentiss on Wednesday.”

“Sweetheart, you’re in the clear.” She assured and it was your turn to chuckle.

“Heat… how many people are you currently fucking?”

“In D.C?” She asked and you nodded, “three not including Rob. But you know I don’t let them fuck me and I don’t share toys.”

“Not the point. It was in the contract I signed and Rob is far faster and more convenient than me taking time off my precious and very important job to see my gyno.”

“I will call him and tell him what time to meet us.”

“Thank you.” You shot her a smile, digging through your suitcase for classy yet comfortable clothes for the plane ride home.

“If you’re going to all that effort you may as well come back in here for one last round.”

“Go back to sleep Heather!” You called back, disappearing from the doorway and Heather heard the shower starting a moment later, letting out a sigh as she dropped back into the bedsheets.

**

Emily could not wait a second longer to get out of this hell hole and back home, preferably without a stop at the BAU first. Every case was teetering the line on rough, things that no normal human would be okay with witnessing or being around and this one was no different. This time there was the added affect that no matter how hard the team tried, they were always a second too late, never finding a living victim, an hour behind the unsub every step of the way until they’d finally baited him into it. Not only was she exhausted and not looking forward to the amount of paperwork that was going to come across her desk because of this week, but she really didn’t want to get the lecture she knew was coming from Bailey.

She stashed her bag into one of the cupboards, retreating to the back of the jet to drop down into the corner seat, letting out a weary sigh as she ran a hand over her face, pinching at the bridge of her nose. She just needed to get home and she would be able to handle this. Thankfully no one else really wanted to socialize either, finding more private spots on the jet, curling up in seats and couches until the plane was at cruising altitude and most everyone was asleep. She dozed off a bit herself, thankful for the rest though she wished it was more when she stirred in her seat, eyes cracking open to find they were still another few hours from Washington.

A fresh mug of steaming and very welcomed coffee found itself on the table in front of her as Tara hovered in the aisle beside the quad of seats.

“You okay?” She asked gently.

“Yeah.” Emily replied with a huff, picking up the mug, “that just… fucking sucked.”

“Man it really did.” The other woman groaned, dropping into the seat across from her, “but remember…we got him.” Her hand reached out, squeezing at her knee, “he won’t hurt anyone else.”

“I just really wish we’d clued in earlier, could’ve saved a lot of people a hell of a lot of hurt.”

“I know.” Tara replied, “so do I.” With another squeeze of her knee she settled back into her chair, taking a sip of her coffee, “we’ll do better next time.”

“Mmm.” She nodded.

“Thanks, for the extra days off by the way.” Tara commented, noting that while they were heading home on a Sunday that Emily had made the call the BAU wouldn’t be functioning until Wednesday.

“You guys need it.” She sighed, “after a case like this, everyone needs time to disassociate and pretend like there’s nothing wrong in the world.” Her gaze drifted out the window, “JJ needs to see her family, spend time with them, hug them so tight it’s like she’ll never let them go. You better be going to see Rebecca; remember why we do what we do to keep the world safe….”

“And what about you?” She asked after a quiet moment, watching the way Emily’s face twitched as she stared out the window a moment longer before turning back to her and waving her off.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve been doing this a long time.”

“I know you have, and I’m not profiling, I’m doctor-ing, so you can’t lecture me.” Tara leant in on the table between them, “deny it all you want, but you have someone right now who means something in your life. It could be a new friend and that’s it, but it also could be something more and I don’t need to know any details right now, but I want to make sure you’re not just going home alone to a bottle of wine tonight.”

Emily huffed, taking another sip of coffee, “she was out of town this week, I’m not even sure when she’s back.”

“Hey…” Tara’s hand slid across the table, squeezing at her own, “whatever change you’ve made recently? It’s been a good one. You’ve been happier, more energetic, getting out of work on time and spending your weekends actually doing something. I haven’t seen you do anything other than work since we came back, so call her please… for me?”

“I’ll think about it, but I’m not making promises. I’ve got a mountain of paperwork and god knows Bailey’s gonna be blowing up my phone once he hears about the case.” She sighed,  though her lips curved up into a soft smile and Tara relaxed into the seat across from her, giving her a knowing look before Emily’s gaze drifted out the window again.

**

Once home you began the usual post travel routine, make sure to immediately unpack, dumping clothing directly into the laundry and setting aside those that needed to go to the dry cleaners. You sorted through your work bag, filing everything correctly, stashing half away in your home office and packing the rest back up to have on the go. A quick clean out of the fridge, tossing anything that had unfortunately gone bad over the course of the week before putting in a grocery order and deciding to rely on take out for dinner. Finally, it was time for a luxurious everything shower. It didn’t matter how expensive or fancy the resort was, you always preferred your own shower, the water pressure and temperature was perfect, you had all of your own skin and hair products and didn’t have to worry about taking too much time or how many other people’s feet had touched the tub.

You wandered back downstairs just in time for your dinner to arrive, making sure to leave a hefty tip for the driver as it was much later than you’d normally order and the weather was starting to turn. Not even waiting to fully unbox everything you dug a fork into the chow mein, your stomach growling heavily already, stuffing a few forkfuls into your mouth. When you turned to grab a bottle of wine your eyes landed on the practically overflowing recycle bin and glancing over to the calendar you let out a groan, it was getting picked up in the morning, but only if it was in the alley.

With an annoyed sigh, you grabbed a sweater, shoved on a pair of slip-ons and grabbed the bin to trek through the yard and dump in the appropriate place. Back inside you locked the door behind you, a shiver moving through you at the chilly air lingering in your kitchen as you washed your hands and finally poured out a glass of wine. A sip of that and another mouthful of noodles and there was a knocking coming from the front door. A quick glance to your phone confirmed you hadn’t missed anything so you padded over to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open to find Emily on the other side.

“Hey.”

Your voice broke her out of her trance of worry, fully registering that she actually had shown up at your door in practically the middle of the night. Her eyes flicked over your form, her shoulders relaxing at just how cozy and at peace you looked, leggings and loose sweater, your hair still damp and messily braided to keep it out of the way while your face was bare of any make up.

“Hey.” Emily replied, mimicking your soft smile. Her ears picked up the sound of laundry going in the distance and she spotted your work bag sitting right inside the entry, eyes flicking up to the kitchen to your barely touched take out and she suddenly put it together, wincing, “oh shit! I’m so sorry, you just got back.” She couldn’t help it, glancing over her shoulder as if it would be a better idea to retreat to her car, “this is outta line, I should’ve called. I just… man today really fucking sucked…”

You practically snorted at the out of line phrase, your hand reaching out to pinch at her elbow, waving her into your home, “it’s fine, come on in.”

You lead her into the kitchen, urging her to take a seat at the island as you stripped off the sweater, now back in the warmth of the house. “Wine?” You asked, opening the cupboard, “or something stronger?”

“Something stronger, please.” She grumbled, running a hand over her face. She glanced up at the sound of you sliding a tumbler of bourbon over to her and her eyes landed on the cotton ball stuck to the inside of your arm, “are you okay?”

“Hmm?” You asked, looking over your shoulder to her as you stashed the bottle back in the cupboard and she gestured to your arm. “Oh,” you let out a small huff of a laugh, ripping the band aid off and tossing both into the garbage, “yeah, just had some blood taken.” You slid back onto your stool, picking up the carton of noodles and gesturing to the others, “you hungry?”

“No, thank you.” She let out a weary sigh, taking a long drink of her booze.

“Emily… are you okay?”

She glanced up at you, her eyes flitting between your oh so cozy aura, the barely touched food, prime wine that you were trying to enjoy and she let out a huff, nearly pushing back from the island. “god, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have just shown up like this.”

You managed to catch her hand before she had managed to actually push her stool back, “Em… I said it was fine.” You squeezed gently, urging her to sit back down and she did.

“It’s just.. I’m not exactly.. uh.. up to my normal caliber and definitely not in the headspace for our normal activities…” She nearly avoided your gaze and you let out a soft laugh.

“And that’s perfectly fine.” You reassured her, nudging her glass closer toward her, “compensation doesn’t always have to be sexual. There’s an entire other dynamic to it, companionship means support too. Contrary to what you may think, I do actually enjoy spending time with you and that will always include outside the bedroom.”

She let out a deep breath, “my brain is still trying to sort out the whole sugar baby situation and I think I’m just overcomplicating things. I kind of figured it was a sex for money but make it…morally legal.” She nearly laughed at her own words, pulling a small grin from you.

“There are plenty of sugar baby relationships that don’t even involve sex. Some people are just lonely, or scared of doing things by themselves so they have someone go with them to lunch, movies, opera, the theatre. Hell I’ve heard of a few old married couples where the wife has a passion for arts and the husband would much rather sit at home with the game on, if he doesn’t have to suffer through it himself, he has absolutely no qualms with a much younger man escorting his wife.”

“So I really am overthinking things?” She asked, looking back up to you with a soft smile and you chuckled.

“Yeah.”

“I still feel bad about intruding on your evening.”

“It’s not like I had much planned.” You shrugged, “now c’mon, help yourself to food, I’m definitely not going to finish it all.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.”

“Em..” you warned, “when was the last time you ate? Truthfully.”

“Before we got on the jet.” She winced and you cast her a glare.

“We’ve got noodles, rice, beef and broccoli or ginger chicken.” You pushed the containers toward her, “help yourself.”

She picked up a fork and the container of rice, taking a couple of bites while a comfortable silence took over the room and she was finally able to relax a bit. It was then that she started to realize more of the meaning behind your words, and why she was so drawn to showing up at your house in the first place (and why Tara had been so insistent on it). If she had just gone home she would likely be pouring over case files and attempting to get as much paperwork done as possible to get ahead before Bailey got into things with her. Sleep wouldn’t have been an option until it was all done, she definitely wouldn’t have eaten and a bottle of wine would have been her best friend. Instead being inside your kitchen felt warm, welcoming, simply having another human in the same room made her remember that there was so much else to life than just work. Things didn’t have to be so dreary and boring all the time.

“How was Florida?” She asked after a few moments.

“It was decent.” You shrugged, “secured a good amount of supporters, got some up and comers onto our ideas, reminded myself I’m not actually terrible at tennis and managed to only have my ass grabbed four times while congressmen tried to teach me how to golf.”

“Ew.” Her nose crinkled and you laughed, “I hope this doesn’t sound bad, but do you… have to like, play dumb a lot around them?”

“Oh no, I actually am completely horrible at golf. And you only get one chance to truly play dumb around them before they realize how much potential you could or do have and only certain ones feed into the dumb, some see right through it.”

“So you’ve got to know how to read them even quicker?”

“Yup.” You took a sip of your wine, “Heather always said it’s best to slide in with a hint of sensuality, let that be the bait and you have a matter of minutes to figure out whether you’re going low or high status to get them wrapped around your finger. The guys, it was go low. Do I have a very successful career with one of the highest ranked Senators in the country? Of course, but that completely slips their minds on a retreat like that when I’m wearing a cute outfit serving them drinks filling the role of cart girl.”

“Huh.” She replied, digging through the container before taking another bite and silence took over the room again. Though this time there was something lingering in the air and after a few minutes you chose to speak up.

“I take it your week wasn’t as good?”

Emily let out a heavy breath, “just a really bad case. I don’t want to drag you down with details but it was one of the worst we’ve seen in a while and in the end we barely caught the guy.”

“You sure you don’t want to talk about it? I promise I can handle the gory details; Tony never holds back; I actually think he over exaggerates to make himself sound cooler…”

“Tony?” Her brow furrowed.

“Agent friend.” You replied with a shrug.

“Ah,” she poked around at the rice again, “and no, but thanks. I think I just really didn’t want to be alone tonight.”

“Alright.” You cast her a warm smile, closing the lid on your take out as you stood from the island. You were full and Emily had done nothing but play with her food for a while now, you were sure she wasn’t going to eat anything else. “How about we take the bottle of wine upstairs then?”

“Oh, but I—” she stumbled over her words and you laughed softly, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder.

“I’m not going to pounce on you, don’t worry. The tv in the bedroom’s nicer and it’s getting late, may as well fall asleep in the bed rather than have to drag ourselves from the couch later.”

She let out an awkward laugh, closing the rice container and sliding it over to you, “oh, right.”

You looked back at her, reaching your hand out as she slipped off her stool, “C’mere.” Tugging her to you she let out a little ‘oop’ as your arms wound around her, wrapping her into a tight hug. A wave of relief crashed over you as she let out a content sigh, relaxing into the embrace and the tension in her shoulders finally began to drip away. You pressed a soft kiss to the side of her head, squeezing at her once more before gently pulling away.

“Thank you.” She murmured softly, giving you a tired smile.

“Anytime.” Your hand trailed down her arm, curling around hers as you turned to the staircase, “now come on, you need some good cuddles and sleep, number one recommendation from doctors after a rough week.”

_______________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird bird @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @supercorpstan97 @asolitaryrose3 @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice @d33pd3sire-blog @daffodil-heart @maximoffcarter @i-lovefandom @chimnlex @moonlightjxuregui @chestnutninny @gamma-rae-bursts @just-moondust @idkifimasub @gaydragonwitch @dowsedwithbleach @divergentalwaysandforever-blog

[freyyzu]

MEMORIES OF YOU

in a timeline where your presence is lacking, they do everything to keep you beside them.

a/n; i really want to know what the brothers in our current timeline are doing. how are they holding up? sorry for another long post, i felt insane (m;_ _)m. a few of them got a bit out of hand compared to others.

Lucifer plays your voicemails on repeat.

there are times when the workload gets a little bit too much now. lucifer hadn't ever noticed how much he had relied on your presence to soothe him after a stressful day; the shoulder massages and brief kisses, the comforting words, the mere company of you beside him had begun to feel like second nature.

unfortunately, you're no longer here to provide that for him, and neither is he there with you to offer a guiding hand in whatever it is you might be going through right now. the thought that you could be in danger sends a dull ache to his head, and the thought that it could be him being the one harming you is enough for him to put down his pen. no more work will be getting done today.

in moments like these—and he hates to admit they've been frequent—lucifer reaches for his d.d.d. the device feels heavy in his hand, and he has to stop himself from trying to once again call you. instead, he goes for the next closest thing.

"lucifer!" your voice is bright and cheery, it rings out clearly enough that he almost believes you've teleported right next to him. the tension of his shoulders ease as you continue, "i'm really sorry for leaving early today, but i did make breakfast before i left!"

lucifer leans his back against his chair, chuckling at the flustered sound of your delivery. it sounds as if you were running while recording this.

"there should be enough for everyone plus seconds and uh..." he can hear the quiet mumbling of your counting. "tenths for beel! again, i'm really sorry for leaving without all of us getting to eat together. i accidentally left an unfinished project back in the classroom and—oh! there's RAD! i'll see you in a bit, lucifer. tell everyone i said good morning!"

the voice message ends with a click, and he feels like the weight of the entire world is once again stacked upon his shoulders. as it always does.

with anchored fingers, he goes to tap the next voicemail when a knock on his door stops that.

"i'm comin' in," the voice from the other side warns before opening the door. mammon steps inside with a single cup balanced on his hand and places it on lucifer's desk, sparing a glance at the papers strewn across its surface. "still working?"

"it's never really done," lucifer responds, taking a sip from the cup. his eyebrow raises at the flavor. "is this barbatos' tea?"

"not really." mammon reaches out to sort the files into a neater pile. "i asked him to teach me in exchange for helpin' with castle cleanup."

it's the second time today lucifer's shoulders relax. "thank you, mammon."

Mammon fills his room with trinkets.

it's hard to keep mammon from spending all his grimm without you there to stop him anymore. for a while, the habit had dampened with your absence, and his brothers had wondered if he would drop it all together until you were back. that thought lasted all but two weeks.

when he had started back up again it was his usual treks—gambling at the casino, buying luxury items he had no real need for, spending it on bets he was sure to lose—and then they shifted.

there's a pile of boxes and paper bags settled carefully inside the seats of his car—the safest area of his room. they range from big to small, all designed and painted with different colors and patterns. a few of the logos and brands repeat, and asmo is the first to take notice that they're all from the stores that you like to visit.

it's somewhere near high noon when mammon leaves the house of lamentation and late evening when he comes back home.

he lets out a silent thanks that his brothers aren't around right now. or maybe they've gotten used to his schedule for the past couple of days and have decided to give him the privacy he needs. whatever the case may be, he's grateful there's no one at the entrance to chide him again.

kicking the door closed with his foot, mammon does his best to not let the multiple shopping bags hanging on for dear life in his hands slip.

it's almost like clockwork, the way his feet leads him to your room first, as they always do. he spares only a moment to take a look around. many of the things he's bought have been tucked securely in his room, but there are times, like today, where he just wants to show them off.

"Didja know Beel keeps comin' in here to eat his snacks lately? I bought a candle to clear out the air." true to his word he pulls out a candle in an intricately designed glass jar, scented in your favorite fragrance.

though it doesn't stop there, and soon your entire table is filled to the brim with different items.

mammon takes a look at everything he's bought once before pulling out a lighter and flicks it on. a mild, familiar scent fills the air, and he hates to admit it's the most calm he's felt in weeks.

Leviathan can't stop updating you.

if there's one thing that hasn't changed, it's the frequency of your texts with levi—or more accurately, levi's texts with your d.d.d. even if it's for the most mundane thing, he doesn't hesitate to whip out the mobile device and let his fingers fly across the keypad.

no one tells him to put his phone down anymore during their meals together, and even the pit pat of the letters being pressed feels more like comforting ambient noise now. the new normal in lull of conversation topics.

sometimes, there's nothing for him to talk about. times where he doesn't leave his room, where he isn't playing a game, or watching a new anime, or reading the latest manga volume release despite the media being right at his fingertips. the house of lamentation feels like it becomes empty during those days, but he doesn't want to tell you that.

levi finds that his bathtub becomes more comforting as every day passes by. the small, slightly confined space that hugs at him from both sides feels reassuringly warm with the blankets and pillows he's stuffed in there.

still, even as he shifts into a more relaxing position, nothing beats the joy he feels tapping away at his d.d.d.

he hasn't left his room for the past five days for anything other than the usual family meals, and even the games that usually pull him in no longer grab his attention. the only thing that does is the device settled within his hands, the dim glow it admits being the only thing he can focus on.

[ have you eaten yet? if not you better get to it, beel's been clearing out the fridge so fast lately i don't even bother going to the kitchen anymore. it's straight to the store for me LOL. ]

[ there's a new anime that's releasing soon. it's based off a manga about two twins that fall from the sky and end up saving the nation that raises them. i hear it's a real tear-jerker! i'll wait until you get back though so we can watch it together. ]

eventually, even levi runs out of things to talk about, and so he reluctantly marks the end of the the conversation with a goodbye.

[ talk to you soon, i'm going to pass out. sleep well when you do! ]

he does his best to ignore the fact that the messages aren't sending.

Satan sees your name in every word.

in the beginning, satan goes through every tome within every library the devildom has to offer. there must be a way to get you back from where you've disappeared to. and while he trusts solomon to keep you safe, he wants nothing more than to be there to guarantee that safety, or better yet—not have you disappear at all.

still, after turning every archive upside-down and over, satan resigns that there's nothing more he can do but to trust the sorcerer. but he can't; the thoughts of his years right after the celestial war ended haunt him and he fears that if anyone was to jeopardize your safety the most, it would be him.

and so he throws himself into his pastime. yet even then, his eyes can only skim the pages, the words nary processing in his mind. how could they, when every term, every phrase reminds him of you?

satan's hope of losing himself within the world of a story doesn't go as planned. it hasn't been going as planned for the past couple weeks.

the spine of a book cracks open, and the coffee-stained colored pages are flipped. his finger slides over the finely inked words, and then pause just minutes in when he realizes he hasn't retained a single thing he read.

rinse and repeat, the same old pattern.

frustrated, he snaps the cover closed, the force of his action loud enough to be heard by anyone who would pass by his door.

the protagonist of the book he had picked up was described as kind and forgiving. they would brighten up every room they entered and had as much fear in their body as they had caution—which was little to none. they face many trials to bring happiness to those they love all without a care for their own well-being. satan sighs, curling in on himself from his seated position.

a strained laugh nearly leaves his throat, but he holds back. of course he would gravitate towards this book with a description like that.

with a heavy heart it tucks it back ontop of the pile of other unfinished tomes—the height of it becoming increasingly worrying—and hopes that the ending is a happy one.

Asmodeus can't stop talking about you.

without your presence, asmo delves himself deep into his social circles. it takes his mind off of how concerned he is about your well-being; he doesn't need to keep himself awake thinking on how much he misses you or how you might be missing him and the rest of his brothers.

well, at least he thinks he's taking his mind off of things. it's hard for anyone to put a word in once asmo starts opening his mouth, especially when the only thing that leaves from his parted lips every other sentence is your name.

if it wasn't evident in his conversations then it's evident in the way his shampoo has been swapped out for a fragrance you had always been more privy to, or the way his style has slightly shifted towards what style you like to wear. he picks up your habits like it's his own even if he doesn't notice it.

"oh, you'll never believe what they did next!" asmo laughs, his sing-song voice ringing above even the loud blasting of music from the party speakers.

one of the demons closest to him leans in closer, a sparkle in her eyes as she continues listening to his story. a story that he's been telling for the past two hours since they sat down. "what happens next?" she pries, genuinely curious.

the stories continue on for the rest of the night, until the music dies down and the crowd thins out. the female demon is still by asmo's side, a yawn leaves her lips and he mimics the notion.

asmo blinks, eyes trailing to the watch she wears loosely around her wrist. "oh! i didn't realize it was so late, sorry to keep you here for so long."

"not at all!" she smiles, waving her hand. "thank you for telling me such interesting stories! it's the most fun i've had this week. it's obvious you must care for this person a lot."

it's only when she says that does asmo realize you were the only topic of his conversation this entire night. a smile creeps to his lips before he can help it. it's the first time in a long while that he's thought of you without fearing about how you might be doing.

because it's you. and you're always getting out of every situation the world throws you in.

Beelzebub gravitates towards the food you eat.

alongside belphie, beel—like everyone else—makes regular visits to your room. it becomes his primary hangout spot now outside of his own shared bedroom and so the snack stash that you usually keep in a drawer under your desk has recently expanded.

it practically bursts at some points from how much he tries to stuff in there on some days, but it's always empty again by the end of the week. sometimes he finds items that he didn't buy settled on the top of the rest snacks, though they always seem to be foods that you enjoyed nibbling on.

he misses the food that you used to cook for everyone at the house of lamentation, and no matter how good simeon's cooking might be, it just isn't the same. still, he does his best to replicate it sometimes. maybe by the time you get back he can surprise you with a home-cooked meal... if he doesn't eat it first.

it's usually mammon or asmo that walks through the doors with half a dozen bags grasped in white knuckled grips, not beel, but here he is. in contrast to his older brothers, though, beels bags aren't filled with clothing or make-up, but food.

"are you sure you don't need help with that?" belphie asks, a little more than concerned at how even with how wide the doors are to the house of lamentation he was barely able to fit through the opening.

"it's fine," beel shakes his head. "this is nothing."

they make their trek to the kitchen with little difficulty. as beel said, those bags really did feel like they weighed nothing. "what do you think we should try making?"

"hmm," beel looks over their ingredients. they hadn't really thought that far ahead. whatever was on sale, they bought. "how about shadow pork ragu pasta?"

thankfully, with belphie's ability to keep himself conscious, he helps beel from continuously 'taste testing' their creation. it goes well until they're half-way through and the door opens, a head of blonde hair popping inside.

"i thought i smelled something here, what are you two doing? it's not your turn tonight for dinner duty." one look at the dish they're making though and satan gives a nod of understanding. it's the dish you had made for belphegor some time ago. "need some help?"

satan's help is very much needed as belphie was on his last winks and that meant there would be no one to keep beel in check either. by the time the pasta was finished there's five-too-many more servings than intended on the counter and four more demons surrounding it.

seems like they won't be having dinner in the dining hall today.

Belphegor takes your room as his own.

there's no other room in the house of lamentation that's as comforting as yours—that's simply a unanimous fact. and with the absence of your presence now, it's also the only place belphie can go to feel the closest to you.

he spends more time in your room now than he does in his shared room with beel and the attic combined. there are days where mammon sneaks inside during the night only to already find the twins loitering around, laying on your bed or sitting at the table having a snack (or at least, beel's definition of a snack).

while belphie admits he likes the time he spends in your room alone, he feels more at peace when his brothers decide to join as well, uninvited or not. it makes the days feel like they've gone back to normalcy, when you're still here and they can just relax in each other's company.

"mammon stop clinging to me, dammit! you're the one who wanted to watch a horror movie!" levi pulls away from his older brother as much as possible, holding a container of popcorn above his head to prevent it from spilling all over the floor and dirtying your carpet.

satan's groans are louder than any of their yelling, "quiet down! i can't focus on what the characters are saying! and beel your chewing too loud!"

"sorry," comes the prompt reply followed by even more chewing.

asmo leans his back on the bed frame, head tilting to the side in order to get a better view of belphie's face under the dim light of the monitor. "having fun?"

"what do you think?" he groans, pushing his head further into your pillow.

and while belphie can't see the expression asmo makes, he has a good prediction that he's grinning. "i think you're having fun. after all, you haven't kicked any of us out yet."

"it's not my room," he replies.

"but you know everyone would gladly leave if it meant you felt more comfortable."

the youngest brother turns his back. "you guys are too loud, i'm going to sleep."

"yes, yes, sleep well, belphie," asmo quips. "have nice dreams."

and he does.

even over the loud noises of his brothers yelling and the muffled sounds coming from the speakers of the tv, belphie finds that he hasn't fallen into a sleep this deep since you disappeared. and while morning comes eventually, he treasures the dream with you in it for as long as he can.

[alexsoenomel]

Chokehold (Sam Winchester x Reader smut)

Request: Hey I don’t know if you’re taking requests but I was reading Adrenlize Me and I had an idea for a part 2? Sam and reader have been getting at it for a bit but this time they finally say “I love you” to each other? Rough smut with a little dash of fluff? 🥰

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: sexy times and I love you’s, mentions of addiction 

Word count: 2.1k

Note: I apologize for being so slow (school+work+ADHD). Writing this made me realize how single I actually am.

 Enjoy! Like/Reblog or both if you like it! :)

PART 1

Addiction. First, it feels like a warm hug, sucking you in, disguising itself as something familiar, something beautiful, and finally, you feel like you filled that hole in your soul. Then it starts taking, it takes and takes until there is nothing left to take, until you cannot give anymore – until you’re dead. You find out, a little too late, that the warm hug was just a one-way ticket to your inevitable demise.

This started as a deep-seated need but turned into a full-blown addiction sooner than I thought, but the only difference was this was a blissful one, with no reaper waiting for you at the end. It only brought endless pleasure. 

Sam was no better than me. We couldn’t stop ourselves; every touch, every kiss would send us into a euphoric state, and it was better than any drug known to man. 

After our little adventure in Dean’s beloved Baby, we tried to keep our dirty little secret hidden. Sam would come to my room only during the night when he could hear Dean snoring in his room, and even then, we had to be careful since Dean was a light sleeper. He would muffle my moans with his hand whenever he was on top of me, he would sometimes even let me bite his shoulder, but it was impossible to be quiet, especially when we both liked listening to each other come undone. Long story short, Dean found out.

“Good thing you two lovebirds finally got together! The bad thing is now I cannot sleep.” He told us one morning while sipping his black coffee, clearly tired and cranky. 

Lovebirds.

That word was stuck in my brain that day. It still would pop up occasionally. It reminded me that we never labeled our little arrangement. When it happened, we would carry on, pretend like this thing was meaningless, and then we would do it all over again. We would cover every topic under the Sun apart from this one. We completely ignored it, but it was there, just around the corner, something more than just a meaningless hookup. 

Sure, he was able to make my legs shake, make me forget my existence, and his touch would set me on fire every damn time, but the way he would look at me right before I would come, the way we would look at each other…  I knew I was falling for him. 

We were birds of a feather –we connected through art, books, and music. We liked the same things but were far different characters. I was more of a 'Shoot first, ask questions later' kind of girl, like his older brother, and he was far from that. He was my voice of reason when I would let my emotions consume me; he was the one who would tell Dean and me to get our shit together whenever we would jump the gun (and that would often happen because we were both hotheads). We worked perfectly together. 

***

"God, I'm exhausted!" I said and put my bag on the table. 

We just got back from a hunt in Omaha, Nebraska, and it was a wild one. It dragged to no end until we finally ganked the ghost that was killing unfaithful men. I almost got thrown off the balcony, Dean almost got stabbed, and Sam, well he took care of it. Overall, I was just happy the case was over and, that I could sleep in my/Sam's bed. 

"Me too! Gonna hit the hay!" Dean said taking his shoes off. 

"Already? It's only 10 pm." Sam said. On a rare occasion, Dean would sleep early, he was the worst night bird in the flock. For him, 2 am was too early for bed, and mornings started at noon. 

"Sammy, I almost got stabbed today! Yeah, already." Dean said and disappeared into the hallway. 

"Night, Dean!" I said. 

"Night, night!" I heard him say. 

I was immediately hit with the realization that I was alone with Sam. There was something so alluring about him that made me nervous in the best way possible. It would boost my dopamine and adrenaline – like a drug. I swallowed nervously as I turned to see he was staring back at me and I immediately recognized the look – the look of devotion. 

"What?" I asked. He looked tired, with messy hair, and bags under his eyes. I was a tired mess too. During these days caffeine kept me awake and sharp since we were working night and day trying to solve the gruesome mystery. 

"Shower?" He asked.

"Please!" 

We went to his room since I would spend most of my nights there. What started as casual, grew to be a routine. I started hating sleeping alone in cold sheets – his warmth kept me safe. 

When we entered his room, pleasant silence joined us. We stripped down our dirty clothes and sins as we went to the bathroom. We didn’t say a word until warm water touched our tired bodies.

“Warm enough?” Sam asked me.

I nodded. He shampooed my hair, and I did my body while letting my muscles relax under the shower, feeling every part of me slowly shutting down from exhaustion.  Once my hair was nice and cleaned and I turned to face Sam, kissing where his heart was as I balanced myself on my tiptoes since he was much taller than me. 

“My turn?” I asked and got on his knees, like he usually would do when I wanted to wash his hair, and wrapped his hands around my waist, cupping my ass. It wasn’t the first time we showered together, the aftercare was as important for him as it was for me, but this time it felt far more intimate and real. The aftercare would usually turn into rough shower sex, leaving me breathless and sometimes even covered in bruises, but this time I saw true intimacy and meaning of showering together. 

Sam kissed my stomach as I washed his hair, sending light shivers all over my body. His hand went between my legs, and a light moan escaped from my lips. 

“All done!” My voice trembled. Sam stood up and kissed me hungrily. I could never get enough of his kisses, his lips were soft, kisses sweet kinda like cherries in spring, nothing like I’ve ever tasted before. He broke the kiss as our eyes met, water still running down our bodies. I could feel his breath on my lips. The air, even though hot and heavy, got a little bit chilly for a second – or was I getting nervous? I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. I didn’t know why I was getting nervous. Everything that seemed familiar was now foreign to me. Even though we fucked a million times, even though we both had seen each other naked, I was still feeling that tickling sensation in the pit of my stomach. 

Sam turned off the shower. We did our night routine in blissful silence. Skincare, haircare, the whole nine yards…in blissful pleasant silence. Sam even started using my Vitamin C serum, when I told him how good it is for the skin. 

I was pleasantly surprised when he took a little bit of my hydrating cream after the serum. I would always use that after having a rough day on the job, it did wonders for my tired skin. 

“You’re learning,” I told him as I brushed my teeth. 

“From the best.” He simply said. 

***

I didn’t remember the last time I did my night routine in my bathroom – and it all started when Dean caught me leaving his room to get my toothbrush. 

“You two are louder than a jackhammer!” He told me as he opened the door of his room, messy hair, eyes barely open, clearly feeling creaky from lack of sleep…again. “Keep it down, or I swear I’ll kill you both!”

“Sorry!” I was embarrassed but trying hard not to laugh.

Ever since then, I decided not to leave his room during the night. So, naturally, I started leaving my stuff in Sam’s room. 

***

After we got in our pajamas; Sam in his gray sweatpants and me in my oversized blue T-shirt I “borrowed” from him, got under the covers. I could feel my whole body relaxing, as I let my mind drift God knows where…I was ready to fall asleep, but Sam had other plans. He wrapped his hand around my waist pulling me closer to him. His semi-hard cock was pressed against my ass, and I felt his lips on my neck. 

“Yeah, Sammy?” I bit my lower lip. 

“I don’t wanna sleep.” He mumbled between kisses. 

I turned around, missing the softness of his lips on mine. I kissed him, feeling the minty taste on his lips. My hand went in his hair, pulling him closer to me. He moaned when I pulled his locks, sending shivers all over his body. He pushed me back onto the mattress as he climbed on top of me, leaving kisses all over my jaw and neck. I loved his lips on my skin, I loved everything about them; the softness, the taste, the ability to make me wet in seconds… 

“You got me worried today,” Sam whispered between kisses. 

“Sorry, I was a hot-headed dumbass.”

I thought I could take down the ghost by myself. I didn’t stick to the plan and almost got thrown off the balcony when the damn thing attacked me – my mistake.

“Like always.”

And that’s why you love me. I bit my tongue. I felt my walls completely coming down under him. I didn’t care about labels, I didn’t care what we were, I just knew my heart was struggling to stay silent. I wanted to say those words as much as I desperately wanted to hear them from him. 

“Shut up and kiss me!” I told him instead. 

Sam pressed his lips on mine, this time his hand went down my stomach between my legs. His fingers were cold, making my skin shiver, but his touch bought endless pleasure. 

I could feel his two fingers in me for a few seconds before he pulled away. 

“Tease,” I said annoyed. He loved making me beg and feel desperate and I loved every second of it. 

He licked his fingers clean and kissed me letting me have a taste as well. 

“You are delicious.”

Everything about this seemed different. He was sweeter and far more gentle. Usually, he would tell me to be quiet, his good girl, he would be rough, but this time…he wasn’t? He had a gentle side, but I’d rarely see it. I felt something was different. I felt my heart connecting with his and my soul feeling closer to his own. 

“And you’re a tease.” 

He laughed, showing off those cute little dimples I adored so much. 

"Just a little. " He smirked before kissing me again. I was growing impatient, and it was like he heard me. He wasted no time, he moved my panties to the side as I helped him lower his sweatpants. He entered me slowly, letting me adjust to his size, letting me bask in the pleasure his cock was giving me. I buried my fingers into his damp hair, arching my back slightly. 

"You feel so good!" 

He would always tell me that. Every time. No exception. He knew his words made me needy, horny, and desperate…He knew what buttons to push. 

He started to move and that was when my heart decided to work against me…or it did me a favor? My eyes were lost in his, not wanting to break the contract. I was feeling every inch of him, slowly moving in and out, skin to skin….

"I love you!" 

I heard myself say. My heart was pounding, I could see his expression change as his hair was falling on my cheeks…he smiled and kissed me.

"I love you too!" 

I didn't expect this answer from him. At the moment it didn't seem real but I think we both knew it was coming. Between the constant staring, and flirting just to gross out Dean and the genuine connection we had, we knew…

Sam's pace became faster, and I was slowly losing it. His face was inches away from mine, feeling each other's breaths as my climax was getting closer. I could feel my body shaking, my nails digging into his back as I couldn’t get his name out of my mouth. 

“Come on, baby!” He whispered in my ear. 

I loved his voice, I loved his touch, his kiss. I loved him.

I came hard, biting his shoulder (Sam didn’t even flinch), not wanting to be too loud because of Dean and his “Next time I’m gonna kill you both” sentence. 

He kissed me before collapsing next to me. We were both panting, waiting for someone to say something, to break the ice that had already been broken when I told him I love you. But no one did. Instead, we fell asleep, my head on his chest, safe and sound. 

[scekrex]

HIIIIII<33333333 i fucking love your Adam x reader fics ,im DYING to read more of them, so here is what we all love and crave

Adam x overlord reader. When reader found Adam after the battle, bringed him to his place with the garden etc, Adam lives here. Reader likes Adam and flirts with him often, trying to get closer to him. Adam, tho he would never admit it, likes reader back and plays along. Reader is also a very chill guy, so Adam feels surprisingly comfortable around him. He treats Adam as a equal person, not as some high-stated bitch who everyone need to bow to. As months pass, they are getting closer and closer, their relationship grow. But tho Adam likes reader alot, he still sometimes thinks about heaven, about Lute, about all he had left behind. Its not the same, down there. But this topic gets pushed aside whenever it pops up in his mind, cause he has his boyfriend(?) who loves him and gives him protection from all the sinners that want him dead. But deep inside Adam has that little hope that Heaven will send someone to get him back (tho they prob dont even know he is alive).

Meanwhile Lute was pleasing Sera to let her go down and look for Adam, who she belives is somehow alive. Sera eventually lets her and Lute comes down to hell and starts to look for Adam and ask everyone who she mets where he could be.

After these few months, once as the two enjoy spending evening together, they hear a ring to the door. They come out to that balcony and see Lute standing in the middle of the garden. She calls out to Adam to come back with her. Adam seems excited that his hope and his lieutant didnt let him down. But reader doesnt want to let Adam go. Adam complained from time to time that "what if heaven forgot about him and accepted the fact he is dead" And also reader knows Adams past from Eden. And suddenly reader switches from a chill guy to a serious manipulative persona. He starts to tell Adam things like "and it would take them so long to get you back? They dont really want you there", also mentioning how Lilith and Eve left him before, to hit Adams weak point. Adam, shocked by his bf suddenly mood switch and his serious harsh words, knowing how he have been acting in heaven, doesnt even realise the act of a fucking cruel, possesive manipulation and gives in, shouts at Lute to fuck off and he wont get back where nobody truly wants him. As they get back into the room, Adam from angry comes to sad and curles up into a broken, depressed ball of misery. Reader hugs him, gives him comfort, saying shit like "noone will hurt you anymore if you stay here with me" (still manipulation) while Adam totally breaks and starts to cry, feeling that he will never deserve a perfect live he was meant to have when God created him, that hes worthless and ruined himself

I need to see Adam switch right from his usuall confident, loud persona to a wet sopping cat, crying his eyes out in a sudden mental breakdown pls

You can change smth if smth bothers you, i know you will make it fucking fire as always i live for your writings<33333

I decided that this will not be part of the Bird of Hell's Paradise story bc that story is too soft and comfortable to add manipulation to. Reader is an overlord in this one, but it's not explicitly mentioned.

We'll be together, forever, we'll never ever part

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, kinda toxic behavior, manipulation

note: not beta read bc fuck you

Before Adam there had been loneliness and coldness, before Adam, there had been long nights and even longer days, before Adam there had been a lot of things and all of them were negative.

But having an angel roaming your halls certainly was not what you had planned for your life in Hell, but said angel definitely brightened your days - even though he was a - well let’s call him a special case. Adam wasn’t at all like the angels portrayed in stories, he was rude and harsh, respected no one but himself and the brunette loved to cause chaos on top of it all.

But to everyone’s surprise, the brunette angel settled in somewhat nicely once he realized that Heaven would not send their angels to bring him back, he even got used to having you around. Well, maybe the wording ‘he got used’ isn’t entirely fitting, Adam even enjoyed your company, sometimes he specifically requested it - when he was playing guitar for example. The first man was keeping you on your feet and moving at all times, that was for sure and if you were being honest, you didn’t mind it. It was a nice change from your boring, lonely life in Hell.

And even though Adam had everything he needed and wanted - you very obviously made sure that the angel never missed anything - you knew that he wasn’t doing as well with his new life in Hell as he pretended. Adam was a loud and cheerful guy, so when he went quiet for longer, of course you noticed. There was nothing you were capable of doing to help him through those times - he was simply homesick for Heaven. When things got really bad, you were even able to catch him praying before going to bed, praying to the creature he called father to bring him back, to send him Lute who would escort him back to Heaven, straight through the pearly gates without any complications - but that wasn’t happening. Every being had their reason to live in Hell, even Adam.

“Adam?” you asked with a soft voice, wrapping your arms around the first man’s torso from behind as you leaned your head against his shoulder blade. The man in your arms flinched at first, he had been lost in his thoughts and your touch caused him to snap right out of it. A slightly confused “Huh? fell from his lips before he looked over his shoulder to spot you. The confusion in his eyes was overplayed by an emotion you couldn’t name and the usual grin Adam somehow always managed to shoot in your direction laid on his lips. “Can’t get enough of me again, huh you shithead?” His words were teasing and not the slightest bit serious which caused you to chuckle softly. “You seemed lost,” you answered instead of agreeing with him, knowing damn well that his ego was already huge - bigger than Adam’s body.

Adam grumbled words you weren’t able to understand, then turned away and stepped away from the hug you had offered him. He didn’t want to talk about it - again. And that probably bothered you even more than the fact that he longed for Heaven’s pearly gates. You were fine with Adam having hopes and dreams, it’s not something you would be able to take from him, even if you wanted to, but he never talked about it. The only reason why you were aware of the Eden incident was because of the bible - Adam never talked about anything that involved his past, at least not about the negative things. What you did know was that he missed his band mates and playing gigs with them and that his lieutenant seemed to be a crazy bitch he liked a lot - not in a romantic way but rather in a platonic way, maybe he saw her as some sort of little sister, you weren’t sure.

You sighed as you watched Adam go. He needed time and you would not deny him that.

-

Lute was walking up and down in Sera’s office, explaining her detailed plan on how they would get Adam back - she hoped it would be quite easy because Adam never actively fell, he had never truly died. So technically there was still divine blood pumping through his body which would let him cross the pearly gates back home. Sera sighed at Lute’s idea, rested her head on her hands and watched as Adam’s former lieutenant never stopped walking.

“Lute,” she interrupted the exorcist who stopped in her tracks to look at the tall seraphim angel, Lute clearly had not expected Sera to interrupt her. “We can’t bring Adam back, he is gone,” she explained as the seraphim slowly got up from her chair and crossed the room to face Lute properly. The white haired woman was not having it though, she stood up for herself, “You’re wrong.”

-

It was only a few hours later that Lute flew through one of the shiny golden portals and landed right in front of your house. She knocked against the door quite loudly, even kicked and slammed her shoulder against it, “Adam!”

You turned your head as you heard an unfamiliar voice calling out for the person of your desire and watched as Adam rushed over to the balcony. What the fuck was going on and who was calling for your lover? You followed Adam with heavy steps. Once you stopped right next to the tall and loud angel you wrapped your arm around him as you looked down only to see a woman you had never seen before - she appeared to be an angel too and you instantly feared for the worst.

“Lute!” he yelled back and was about to jump off the balcony to get to her, but you stopped him by tightening the grip on his hips, a little confused he looked down at your hand, then his eyes met yours, “Y/N?” he asked quietly so his former lieutenant wouldn’t hear. You immediately knew you wanted him to stay with you, there really was no way you would ever let Adam leave again, not when he was very much able to stay with you for the rest of eternity. And it wasn’t that you weren’t aware of how wrong that seemed, but it had been long since the last little toy that brought you happiness and joy, so you would hold onto Adam for as long as possible.

You simply shook your head and pulled him a little closer against your side, “If they truly want you back, then why would it take them so long to come and get you?” That caused Adam to close his mouth and he seemed to genuinely think about your words - he came to the conclusion that you had a point.

“C’mon Sir,” Lute yelled up at the balcony where you and Adam stood, “We’re going home.” Unsure eyes roamed over your body and you could feel that Adam waited for you to say something, you were right after all, why would Heaven wait so awfully long to bring him back? The expression on your face was blank and your usually soft sounding voice turned bitter and cold, “She wants to take you from me, Adam. She wants to separate us like Lucifer separated you from your past wives.” And that caused Adam to freeze, he slowly backed away from the railing of the balcony. “Darling, she could have taken you back ages ago, yet she waited - for what though? She seems to be out for power and she realized that you are the only powerful thing she can possess and get away with at the same time, all while she can stay in Heaven,” you hummed as you backed off alongside Adam, slowly guiding the golden winged angel back inside.

“Fuck off, you can go back to crawling up Sera’s fucking ass, I ain’t coming with you, cunt,” the brunette in your arm yelled and flipped the smaller angel in your garden off. A victorious grin appeared on your lips, your plan was working out just fine.

The door to the balcony fell shut and you heard how Adam crashed down onto the couch, he laid there, face buried in the soft fabric it was covered in and his wings were tightly wrapped around his body to isolate him from his surroundings. He looked so miserable, so helpless, so lonely and you hated seeing the usually loud angel so quiet. Your voice softened a little as you sat down next to Adam, you had forced him to stay simply because you wanted him to stay, now the least you could do was to lure him into the thought of protection and a good, bright life.

“Hey now,” you mumbled quietly as your fingers combed through Adam’s soft brown and messy hair, pushing it out of his face - his face which was still pressed against the couch. Your other hand gently moved up and down Adam’s back and when you heard the brunette sigh, you knew you had him wrapped around your finger just fine. “Noone will hurt you, not if you continue to stay with me,” you hummed, the tone you spoke in remained soft and calming and when you saw how Adam lifted his head to look at you, your heart did shatter a little.

His eyes were red, slightly puffy and his lip was quivering. The first man moved his head from the couch to your lap, pressed his face tightly against your belly and cried - it was the first time he was showing so strong and overwhelming emotions. His nails dug into your sides as he held onto your waist to keep you close, to feel you under his hands and to keep you from leaving like everyone else did, he wanted you to stay just as much as he wanted to stay with you.

And the worst yet best part of it all was that the brunette hadn’t even noticed how manipulative your words were, let alone your soft, comforting actions. He was yours through and through and there was nothing in this world - Hellspawn or Heavenborn - that would ever separate you from the brunette man crying against your belly.

[sadhours]

scumbag blues • battery acid

gator tillman x f!original character

previous chapter • masterlist

cw: 18+minors dni, unsolicited dick pics/videos, mean texts, drinking, kind of smut??? Gator tries

Daisy’s depressed. She’s been turning away clients left and right. The money from Roy keeps the bills paid but it’s tighter than before and her pops has noticed. Says something about it when Daisy’s cooking him lunch.

“I don’t know why things have taken such a turn, Daisy,” he sounds stressed. “We haven’t had a single guest in two weeks.”

“It’ll turn back around,” she assures him, “always does.”

Her mothers voice rings in her ears. Same mantra about how women have to take care of things. How women have a magic money maker between their legs and they’d be fools not to take advantage.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket, she pulls it out and looks down at the notification. Gator. Hasn’t had the guts to block him like she should. She slides it open and is met with a photo of his cock. Hard as hell. He’s on his bed, she can see his cargos bunched up around his ankles and his combat boots. He’s sent You can’t quit me, baby along with the photo and she hates the way it ignites a flame in her stomach. She locks her phone and shoves it back in her pocket, resuming the can of tomato soup she’d been heating up. She wishes Gator would just give it up. There’s plenty of other women for sale in this county. But she knows he likes her. Their sexual chemistry is undeniable. And she’s certain Gator hasn’t been with any other woman. Yet, she doesn’t even know how many men she’s been with. It’s unfair. She can’t quit this. And that’s what Gator deserves, so she’ll have to quit him.

She butters up the bread for grilled cheeses, determined to get out of this funk and start taking clients again. Her mother would tell her she’s pathetic. Gator’s always been a client, he started out as such and it’d be laughable to think they could be more. It’s a god damn pipe dream and they both know it.

—

When Daisy reads his message but doesn’t respond, Gator gets furious but his cock is still hard. The arousal mixed with the anger facilitates in a bit of harassment on his end. He records himself jacking off, mumbles about how he knows she wants him. How she’s gonna watch it later and play with her pretty pussy. Which he fully believes. Records himself cumming, muttering, “Wish I was cumming in your tight hole, baby.”

Again, Daisy opens the messages and doesn’t respond. And now that Gator’s cock is softening, the anger takes over and he sends a handful of messages.

Whatever, bitch. Ur not even pretty. Just fucking easy.

Ur used up.

Probably should get tested. God knows ur fckn infected. Nasty slut.

Fuck u bitch

Then, Gator realizes these won’t help his case in any way so he sends another.

I’m sorry. Just miss u and I ain’t good at controlling my temper

The last message never delivers and Gator’s feeling like a pathetic loser with his cum drying on his stomach. Cleans himself up and grabs his keys. He needs to get as drunk as humanly possible. Fuck, he doesn’t care that it’s only noon. This pit of dread filling him needs to be released and alcohol can dull it. The Esquire Club opens at 10 am. He’ll be with like minded company. And well, if it’s two blocks from the Inn, that’s just a coincidence. He isn’t hoping that Daisy’ll wander in desperate for money. Definitely not.

The place is dead when he gets there aside from a couple of dudes rambling about sports. Gator doesn’t keep up with football anymore. Too bitter about high school. He would’ve been scouted, out of this shithole and never would’ve touched Daisy Way if that prick hadn’t busted his ankle. Swears if he ever sees that fucker again, he’ll kill him.

The hours drone on, Gator filling his belly with cheap whiskey and countless beers. Is absolutely stumbling around when the sun goes down. There’s girls in here tonight. Ones that know Gator’s the sheriff’s son, girls that touch his biceps and ask if he’s ever had to shoot anyone. He tells grandiose stories, fibbing on the extremities. Yeah, he sees a ton of action. Yeah, Gator’s a fucking badass. He’s a fucking winner.

He gets one of the girls in the bathroom, a brunette with heavy makeup and a short skirt. Has her leg propped up on the graffitied toilet. Limp dick in his hand as he tugs it, pleading internally for it to fill out but it just fucking won’t. He knows it’s the whiskey, his whole body is fucking numb. But he can’t help but think that if this were Daisy bent over for him, he’d be hard as a rock. It’s pathetic and it’s weird, but he grabs hold of the girl's hair and tugs her head back so he can grunt into her ear.

“You want me to fuck you, Daisy? Huh?” he laughs, “Want me to stretch you out so bad?”

“My names not Daisy?” the girl replies, confusion dripping in her voice.

“Shh,” he hisses, pulling on his cock and focusing on the fantasy, trying to will his dick to life. Nothing. He balls his fist up and slams it against the stall, “Fuck!”

He shoves his flaccid length back into his cargos and barrels out of there. Leaving the girl stunned and exposed. He’s a fucking loser. If he goes by the Inn, it’ll be pummeled into his head what a fucking loser he is. Somehow, he winds up at Faye’s apartment building. Hits the buzzer. Over and over until he hears her sleepy voice.

“Who is it?”

“Faye, it’s me— er,” he hiccups, “Gator. Can I come up?”

“Gator, it’s the middle of the night,” she sighs, “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Please,” he whines, hates how pathetic he sounds, “I have nowhere else to go. I won’t be fucking weird. Okay? I just… please, Faye.”

A beat of silence. Then the buzz and a green light. Gator tugs the door open and stumbles inside, looking down the hall until a door opens. Faye steps outside, rubbing her eyes and she’s wearing a long, flowy nightgown. She lets him inside and because of his intoxicated state, he clings onto her and fucking cries. Like the pathetic loser he is. But she wraps her arms around him.

“Gator, what happened?”

“I’m… I’m such a fucking loser,” he sobs, “I ruin everything.”

Faye squeezes him tighter, rubs his back soothingly. “Oh, Gator…”

She pulls back and puts her hands on his face, “I’m gonna make some tea. Sit on the couch and we’ll talk about it. Okay?”

She’s so good. So pure. So sweet. Gator hiccups and nods, moving to rub his fists against his teary eyes. Then he trudges to her living room, waiting for her to return.

[bananasomg]

Hi! Lestappen and #7 for the ficlet thingy you reblogged if you feel so inclined :)

hii!! tysm for sending me an ask for this fun ficlet post!! 🫶🏼

i love writing short scenes that pack a punch, and for all of these, i'm going with whatever initial spark comes to mind based on prompt and pairing. (:

THAT SAID—

#7. Lestappen: things you said while we were driving is below the cut. it's angsty and emotional and i hope you like it. ❤️

things you said while we were driving

Charles mutes the radio before tipping the seaside valet, Max’s mother and sister waving from the promenade as they pull away. He gives them a tight-lipped smile, not the crinkly-dimpled one Max is used to. 

He fucking hates it. The biting indifference.

Max watches Charles' grip tighten on the wheel, knuckles pale as he steers his Ferrari onto the street. The noon sun tangles in his hair, making it look even lighter from the passenger seat.

There’s a tremble in Charles’ arms that can’t be mistaken for track reverb. He’s not decked in red, helmet on, fighting understeer. He's wearing Max's favorite sweater and his signature baggy jeans. His rings glint in the light and he smells like bergamot, not sweat and just hours ago Max had kissed him over the console.

Now it’s quiet, and Charles can’t even look at him. A far cry from earlier when balmy air rushed through the cabin and the speakers came alive—Charles, body dancing to the beat, his giggly breath mixing with a guitar solo. Warmth that settled between their intertwined fingers. 

“Max, I—” Charles starts and stops abruptly. The vowels sound all wrong, a new air of finality that rings alarm bells in his head.

“Wait, please—” Max tries. He reaches for Charles’ thigh, an anchor to tell him that this tension isn’t immutable, but Charles blocks him by downshifting into second gear. Max can’t help the empty rattle in his lungs. 

Sorry I didn’t tell them I was scared Sorry I didn’t correct them I wasn’t ready I know we talked about it but when the time came I felt like I was going to die Sorry but I love you I love you I love you I love you.

Max begs his thoughts to break the silence, but his tongue won’t budge, lips refusing to form the shapes he needs to reassure Charles that he’s still in this. Still who he wants. Still the person he would choose day in and day out, no matter the consequences. No matter who knows.

Charles takes a deep breath. “No more. I can’t keep doing this.”

Max’s chest shudders, heart processing the words before his mind can catch up. His hand slips from Charles, fingers dangling in the cupholder. The rubber is still wet from the iced coffee Max had bought him for the drive this morning.

“This?” he asks, voice cracking. 

Max watches Charles’ throat bob, the downturned corners of his mouth, but he keeps his eyes on the road, hands at ten and two, face blank. He looks older. Tired. Like he isn’t sure if this is right anymore, and there’s a certain sinking pit in Max’s stomach that feels an awful lot like an ending. 

“Pretending like we’re nothing more than friends.” Charles sighs, bites his bottom lip. “It’s worse than not having you.”

Max barely notices the sound torn from his throat, but Charles must because his shoulder stiffen, and his breath falters. He blows hot air through his teeth, snapping his head to look out the driver’s side window, eyes peeled on the boring Monaco harbor they’ve passed many times over. He can’t bring himself to look at Max, as if what he is about to say will hurt him more. As if after this, they won’t be able to salvage it. 

“It feels like you’re ashamed to be with me.”

“I am not ashamed.” 

“Then why am I still your racing mate?”

“You’re not—” 

“But I am, Max!” 

Charles slams his palm on the wheel, and Max gasps at the sudden movement, the sharp anger in his jaw. He remains still for another minute before finally turning to face him. Max expects to see fury burning in his gaze, but what he sees is even worse— visceral anguish that cools into hard indifference. There’s no softness in his expression, no room for forgiveness.  

“We celebrated six months last week, and you still couldn’t tell them the truth.” 

“I will! I’ll call them right now.” Max grasps for anything to turn the tide. 

The way Charles scoffs, throws his head back like he just said the most unbelievable thing, slashes at his core. It hurts more than a physical blow. At least he knows how to recover from that. 

“No need. There’s nothing to tell them.” 

Charles slows to a crawl in front of Max’s flat. His eyes don’t linger on his mouth or scan the alley for a place to park. He shoots him the same media smile he gave his family—no sign of the tender moments or intimate touches they’ve exchanged. 

“See you on track, Max,” Charles says. 

It’s so final, his goodbye deliberate, leaving no room for contest. 

It’s one thing Max has always admired about him—when he puts his mind to something, he makes it happen, never backing down or swaying from his decision. But Max never planned for Charles to push him into the opponent’s court. To leave his body, weak and aching at the severance.

Max wishes he was driving. He’d yank the car into reverse, speed back to the restaurant and do it all over. This time he’d say, You remember Charles, of course. He’s my boyfriend. But it doesn’t work like that. 

He stands on the sidewalk, empty and bleeding, his only company the bitter realization that every chance to prove his love has slipped through his fingertips, leaving him with nothing but a hollow void. Max wants to call for him, beg him to come back, but he knows he can’t win a battle he’s already lost. Instead, he turns and walks inside as Charles drives away.

[eksvaized]

Part Twenty Two [ Previous 〡 Next ] ︱AO3 ︱Wattpad ︱ taglist: @kingsprettyangel, @simonsslvt, @herwristsarehercanvas, @the-faceless-bride, @ghostieslove, @bbypionaa i f you want to be added - let me know!

The next morning, a gentle light filters through the curtains, softly illuminating the room. As you slowly awaken around noon, a faint scent of fresh linens lingers in the air. You aren’t surprised that you slept in, but you are surprised to see Simon still asleep beside you. Carefully shifting your body, you feel the warmth of his arm, which had been draped over your waist, slip away. As you do so, the blanket glides against your skin, providing a comforting sensation as you pull it up over your shoulders.

The events of last night replay in your mind like an old film, grainy and distorted, shrouded in a veil of fog. Your memories are muddled and jumbled. But there’s one thing, however, that you remember vividly — the kiss you initiated. You don’t know why you did. At least that is what you try to tell yourself. You also try to rationalize it, to convince yourself that the alcohol made you lose control and do it, that you weren’t thinking clearly. Yet somewhere deep inside, buried beneath layers of denial and self-deception, you know the undeniable truth — you wanted to kiss Simon. Fuck, not only that, but you wanted more, much more. Because after days of feeling numb, empty and hollow, the moment you started to feel different, the moment when happiness started to seep in, when contentment started to fill up the hollow spaces, you couldn’t bear the thought of letting those feelings slip away.

Simon’s lips part, and he mumbles something in his sleep. A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips, but you quickly wipe it off, not wanting to give in to the warm fuzzy feeling spreading through your chest.

Eventually, after what seems like an eternity of simply watching Simon sleep, you roll out of the bed. Your body feels as though it has been run over by a truck. All your muscles scream in protest, aching in places you didn’t even know could ache. But, on the bright side, at least the room isn’t spinning anymore, and the world isn’t dancing around you like a sickening carousel.

Planting your feet on the cold floor, the stark contrast between the cozy warmth of the bed and the biting chill of the floor sends an icy jolt up your spine. You slowly get up. As your gaze wanders around, it lands on the window, which is slightly ajar. At first, you think it is a trick of the light, but as you approach it, a sudden gust of wind forcefully pushes its way through the small opening. You halt for a moment, letting the wind play with your hair, feeling the strands whip against your face. Then you inhale deeply, pulling the fresh air into your lungs.

Had this happened a week ago, you would have been frantically scheming of ways to pry the window open fully, perhaps even considering jumping out. But now, you simply stand there. Your arms are wrapped around your waist, as you take in shallow breaths of the crisp air. Now and then, your eyes dart over your shoulder, checking on Simon. Yet he continues to sleep soundly, undisturbed by your movement…

You take a shower, wash your hair and then spend another hour in the bathroom, standing like a statue in front of the sink, looking at the mirror that is above it. You don’t recognise your reflection. The woman staring back at you is a stranger; her features unfamiliar, the dark circles under her eyes a harsh reminder of your restless nights. With a sigh, your fingers lightly trace these unwanted signs of fatigue before your palms come to rest on your cheeks, hiding your face from view.

When you return to the bedroom, you find Simon awake. The sight of you, dressed with your hair still slightly damp from the shower, brings a smile to his face. Surprisingly, you smile back at him.

“Did you sleep well?” He asks and you nod. “Good.”

You are rooted to the spot, standing near the end of the bed. Uncertain of what do to next, you watch Simon, who remains just as quiet, his gaze never leaving you.

“I’m hungry,” you finally break the silence. At your words, Simon sits up, the movement causing the blanket to slide off him and reveal his bare skin. Your eyes involuntarily travel down his chiselled chest, only returning to his face when he speaks.

“What are you in the mood for?”

Caught off-guard by his question, you shrug and then spend the next five minutes in deep thought before finally answering with the least helpful response, “Something sweet.”

* * *

Simon refuses to let you assist him in the kitchen. And the only thing you are allowed to do is slice fruits with a knife that’s so dull, it could hardly cut through butter. Meanwhile, he takes on the more prominent task of meticulously mixing the pancake batter. The conversation between you two starts off as a gentle simmer. Neither of you are particularly talkative, letting the comfortable silence fill the gaps.

However, as soon as he brings up your low tolerance for alcohol, insinuating with a playful glint in his eyes that he had somewhat anticipated the night to culminate with you in the bathroom, the teasing begins. Trying your best to furrow your brows and pout, you make a valiant attempt to look offended. However, a traitorous smile still creeps onto your face, betraying your feigned annoyance as you shake your head in disapproval, unable to hide your amusement.

“Surely, you weren’t dozing off after one glass,” you retort, your words dripping with sarcasm.

“No, I was simply resting my eyes,” he counters, his focus riveted on the sizzling stove.

His back is turned to you. His broad shoulders block your view of his face, creating a perfect opportunity for you to roll your eyes at him. “Yes, yes, yes, you were!” you exclaim, your voice echoing in the kitchen as a giggle bubbles up from your throat.

The grating sound of a heavy vehicle crunching against the gravel in the driveway abruptly disrupts your and Simon’s morning. The tires, burdened by the vehicle’s weight, screech in loud protest against the sudden halt. Your heart, caught off-guard, skips a beat, fluttering like a caged bird against your rib cage. A wave of anxiety washes over you, chilling you to your core and making your breath hitch in your throat as a singular thought crashes through the tranquility of your mind like a thunderbolt: Johnny.

Every attempt to bury the vivid memory of the last time you saw him, of his betrayal, seems in vain. It’s a haunting memory that persistently pricks at your heart - a deep-rooted, festering wound that never quite managed to heal, always lurking beneath the surface of your consciousness like a shadow in the twilight. Although, now, as you look back, his actions no longer seem steeped in betrayal. Instead, it feels as if he saved you from a fate far worse. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, a thorny truth that pierces through the veil of denial, but you realize that if it hadn’t been for Johnny, you may very well still be lost, wandering aimlessly in the endless forest.

As Simon slowly, almost reluctantly, reaches for the knob, turning off the stove, you rise from your seat simultaneously, too. His steely gaze barely grazes your direction. But when it does, and he finally looks at you, his eyes are a stormy sea of unspoken words. Without uttering anything, without any hint of a sound escaping his lips, he sharply jerks his chin upward and a silent command reverberates across the kitchen. You nod. Immediately, your feet carry you towards the staircase and you ascend it, rushing into your room.

As soon as the door closes, you find yourself darting towards the window. In the driveway below is parked a truck. However, it isn’t the aged, beaten-up truck you’ve come to associate with Johnny.

Your face presses against the cool glass, cheeks squishing against the smooth surface as you attempt to get a better look. Your breath fogs up the window as you squint, trying to make out any details. Yet despite your best efforts to angle your head, crane your neck in the most uncomfortable of positions, you don’t catch a glimpse of Johnny.

It feels as though time has stretched out as your gaze remains unwaveringly fixated on the ominous truck outside. But then, the tranquility of the quiet house is shattered by the unexpected sound of heavy footsteps. It’s as if a herd of stampeding elephants has suddenly decided to hold a raucous parade from the narrow hallway into the living room. A lump forms in your throat—physical manifestation of your growing apprehension that propels you towards the door.

Yet, when you finally reach it, a wave of raw, unadulterated fear washes over you, rooting you to the spot as if your feet have been ensnared in a pool of quick-drying cement. The low, rumbling voices of multiple people filter through the wooden grain of the door, their unintelligible murmurs further stoking the raging flames of your anxiety. In this moment, you realize with a sinking heart that you are not brave enough to open the door. Nor do you possess the courage to venture out of the sanctuary of your room and steal a peek at the commotion happening downstairs.

* * *

You are sitting at the table, meticulously tearing pages out of some book and trying to fold paper flowers when the door creaks and opens. Instinctively, your head swivels toward the hallway.

You expect Simon to step in, but instead it’s Johnny. He looks taller than you remember, his presence imposing and intimidating. His face is etched with severity, and he’s decked out in all black gear, from his boots to his heavy-duty jacket. The sight of him, especially the glinting gun strapped to his thigh, makes your pulse race. You find yourself recoiling instinctively, curling up defensively in the chair you’re seated on. An uneasiness engulfs you. You know something is off, although you can’t put your finger on it.

“Hey,” he greets you, his stern expression softening slightly as he bridges the distance between you. His eyes reveal a flicker of an emotion you can’t quite place, but seems dangerously akin to guilt.

With a curt nod, he signals for you to follow him. His commanding tone, a subtle mix of assertion and urgency, leaves no room for argument or hesitation. But despite the palpable fear that gnaws at your stomach, you shake your head and don’t stand up. Your hands, as if on their own accord, tighten around the paper flower you had just folded. The pressure of your grip squashes it mercilessly in your fist; the once delicate, painstakingly crafted creation is now a crumpled mess.

“Where’s Simon?” You ask, not caring about anything else and certainly not wanting to go anywhere with Johnny.

“Downstairs,” he replies simply, his tone cryptic.

As you and Johnny engage in a silent standoff, you remain defiantly seated, refusing to rise, while he holds his ground, refusing to exit. The air between you is thick with tension, becoming a palpable third entity in the room. A cascade of questions tumble from your lips like a waterfall, demanding answers as to why Simon had sent him to fetch you, and why you are required to go anywhere at all. Yet, Johnny remains cryptic, providing no answers to your queries, only promising to tell you what is going on if you come with him. Still, regardless of his promise, you don’t budge.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” suddenly, he says, and the words hit you like a punch to the gut. You freeze, your body involuntarily stiffening as he reaches out to you, his fingers gently wrapping around your shoulder in a squeeze. “I know what he did,” he confesses, his voice thick with sincerity and regret that is too profound to fake.

Perhaps Johnny assumed that his confession and the promise of answers would be enough to coax you into leaving the room and following him without protest. However, you remain resolute, unyielding in your decision not to move a muscle.

Eventually, Johnny resorts to physically guiding you downstairs. His hand clasps around your arm and pulls you to your feet. But even then, he exercises caution, making sure not to apply too much pressure that could hurt you. His fingers don’t dig too deep into your skin, as if he’s mindful of avoiding causing you any unnecessary discomfort or pain.

The moment you and Johnny cross the threshold into the living room, the once spacious area seems to shrink, as if the walls are closing in. The reason for this is the presence of three imposing figures, each one bigger than the last. Meanwhile, Simon is perched uncomfortably on the edge of the couch. His fingers drum against his knee, producing a rhythmic tap-tap-tap that echoes in the otherwise silent room, amplifying your anxiety to an almost palpable level.

You don’t know who these men are, standing tall with tense backs and squared shoulders. Their eyes, sharp and calculating, rake over you like icy gusts of wind. The sight of the men staring at you is enough to make you feel a dizzying sense of unease and make your heart pound in your chest; the room spins slightly as if you are on the verge of fainting.

Your immediate instinct, driven by a primal need for safety, is to sprint toward Simon. Yet Johnny, with his uncanny ability to anticipate your thoughts and actions, is quick to react. After reading your body language, he firmly holds you back. His grip on your arm is unyielding, as if he were a statue carved from stone. Instead of letting you dart towards Simon, he steers you toward a chair that has been hastily brought into the room and forces you to take a seat.

[unforgivenn]

i drug, kidnap, and throw Andrey in my basement. I tell him he deserves it then proceed to cut him up with my knife and then rub salt in his wounds. I then cut off two of his fingers and stab the others fingers. I leave him in a freezing room with no blanket or any sort of comfort.

Noone has the pass to hurt Noah baby like that.

This was... so much fun to write... I should write more of whumpee andrey.. Thanks for breaking my writer's block anon <33

REVENGE IS A DISH BEST SERVED COLD; WHUMPEE ANDREY AU

SHACKLED BY ROYALTY MASTERLIST

CW: GOREE, torture, emotional and psychological abuse, Whumper turned whumpee, reader is whumper, I think its pretty obvious of what the Cw's are from the ask :)

Andrey awoke to darkness. His head throbbed, a dull, pounding pain that seemed to echo through his entire body. He tried to move, but his limbs were bound, heavy chains biting into his wrists and ankles. Panic surged through him as he realized he was in an unfamiliar place, the cold stone floor beneath him sending chills through his bones. The last thing he remembered was being snatched and thrown into this basement. How that happened, he had no idea.

"What the hell?" he muttered, his voice hoarse and weak.

A light flickered on, blinding him momentarily. When his vision cleared, he saw a figure standing before him, a cruel smile on their lips. The basement was dimly lit, the walls lined with sinister-looking tools and instruments.

"Who the fuck are you?" Andrey demanded, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

"I know exactly who you are, Andrey," you replied, your voice dripping with malice. "And I know what you've done."

Andrey's heart skipped a beat. He had made many enemies over the years, his cruel treatment of those beneath him earning him more hatred than he cared to admit. But this... this was different. This was personal.

You stepped closer, revealing a gleaming knife in your hand. "You deserve everything that's coming to you," you said, your eyes burning with a sadistic light. "And more."

"Oh you will regret this, when I execute you. If you know what's good for you, let me go, and I will let you live."

"You speak like you're not scared when I can clearly see the fear coming from you. It's not common isn't it?" You spoke, kneeling beside him and tilting your head.

"What?"

"Well it's not everyday that an heir to a country gets captured is it?"

Andrey's eyes narrowed, his pride and arrogance flaring up even in his vulnerable state.

You don't know who you're dealing with," he spat, though his voice wavered. "My family will find you. They'll make you pay for this."

You laughed, a chilling sound that echoed off the basement walls. "Oh, I'm counting on it. But not before I make you suffer for what you did to Noah."

Andrey's eyes widened. Noah. That pathetic wretch. "Noah? You're doing this for him?" He couldn't help but scoff. "He's nothing. Just a tool. A weak, sniveling—"

A sharp slap cut off his words, the sting burning across his cheek. Your face twisted with rage. "You don't get to talk about him like that. Not anymore."

Andrey's mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood. He glared defiantly, his pride refusing to yield. "Do your worst," he hissed. "I won't break."

Your smile was a chilling promise. "Oh, I intend to."

Andrey's heart skipped a beat as you held the knife closer to him, but he forced himself to remain still, to show no fear.

"You deserve this," You whispered pressing the blade to Andrey's skin, drawing a thin line of blood. Andrey clenched his teeth, refusing to cry out. The knife dug deeper, slicing through flesh with agonizing slowness.

Andrey's thoughts were a whirlwind of pain and defiance. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction. He wouldn't scream. He was better than this, stronger. But the pain was relentless, the knife carving cruel patterns into his skin.

"You think you're so strong," You taunted, your breath hot against his ear. "But even you have limits."

Andrey's vision blurred with tears he refused to shed. His pride was a fragile shield against the overwhelming agony. Your blade moved with precision, each cut a deliberate act of cruelty. Andrey's body trembled, sweat mingling with blood.

"How does it feel?" You asked, their voice a dark melody.

Andrey's mind screamed with pain, but he forced his lips to stay sealed. He wouldn't give them the pleasure of his suffering. He was a noble, damn it. He was—

A searing pain ripped through his hand, your knife sawing through bone and flesh. Andrey's world exploded in a blinding agony, his resolve shattering. He couldn't stop the scream that tore from his throat, raw and primal.

"That's better," you murmured, your voice filled with twisted satisfaction. You held up Andrey's severed fingers, blood dripping onto the floor. "Even the mighty can fall."

Andrey's breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling uncontrollably. Your eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure as you held up a jar of salt in front of his face, mocking him.

"No! You can't do that!" It was obvious that Andrey's bravery facade was starting to break, and you couldn't stop grinning ear to ear about it.

The pain was indescribable as you poured the jar of salt across his body, not even giving him a chance to recover, a fiery agony that consumed him. "But that's the thing, Andrey. I can do whatever I want." He screamed again, his pride crumbling under the relentless assault.

"How does it feel?" you taunted, your voice cold and hard. "How does it feel to be the one in pain for once?"

Andrey couldn't answer, his mind consumed by the unbearable torment. He could barely think, barely breathe, his entire existence reduced to a haze of pain and fear.

But you weren't done. You grabbed his hand, holding it down as you brought the knife to his fingers. Andrey's heart raced, terror flooding his veins. "No, no, please," he begged, his voice a desperate whisper. "I'll do anything..."

You ignored him, your eyes gleaming with sadistic delight as you cut through his fingers, one by one. Andrey screamed, the pain a white-hot explosion that left him gasping for breath.

You cut off two of his fingers, the stumps bleeding profusely. Andrey could barely see through the haze of pain, his vision blurred with tears. He sobbed, his body trembling with agony and fear.

You stabbed the remaining fingers, each thrust of the knife sending fresh waves of pain through Andrey's body. He screamed until his voice gave out, the sound a hoarse, broken whisper that echoed through the basement.

Finally, you stepped back, admiring your work with a satisfied smile. Andrey lay on the floor, his body a wreck of pain and blood, his mind a shattered ruin.

"You think you're so powerful," you sneered, your voice filled with contempt. "You think you're untouchable. But look at you now. You're nothing."

You grabbed him by the hair, dragging him across the floor and throwing him into a small, freezing room. Andrey's body ached with every movement, his wounds burning with a relentless agony. He shivered violently, the cold seeping into his bones.

"No blankets, no comfort," you said, your voice echoing through the room. "You can freeze in here. You deserve it."

You slammed the door shut, leaving Andrey alone in the darkness. He lay there, his body trembling with pain and cold, his mind a chaotic jumble of fear and despair.

Noah's face flashed through his mind, the boy's terrified eyes pleading for mercy. Andrey had shown him none, and now he was paying the price. He sobbed, his tears freezing on his cheeks, his body wracked with pain.

In the freezing darkness of the room, Andrey’s breath came in ragged gasps, each inhale sending a fresh wave of cold pain through his chest. His mind swirled in a haze of agony and fear, struggling to grasp the reality of his situation.

As he drifted into unconsciousness, his last thoughts were of Noah, the boy he had tormented and broken. He had thought himself powerful, untouchable, but now he was nothing more than a broken, bleeding wreck, a prisoner of his own cruelty.

He would suffer, alone and forgotten, a prisoner of his own making. And there would be no one to save him.

No one to hear his screams.

Next

Reblogs are appreciated <3

Taglist: @miireux134/ @nuriiz134/ @noeul-whumpsss/ @morning-star-whump/ @parasitebunny/ @anutz1234/ @whatwasmyprevioususername/ @whumped-by-glitter/ @lordcatwich/ @someoneoninternettt/ @natthebatt/ @noeul-whumpppssssss1234/

@electrons2006/ @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees/ @lolrpop(let me know if you want to be added or removed :D)

[leaderoffestivals]

Mikejima Madara FS2 4*: On a Wintery Street Corner in Paris

Madara: PLEASE PARDON THE INTRUSIOOON ☆ Shu: GEH—? Mi—Mikejima… …!? What in the world are you doing here!?

Season: Winter Author: Yuumasu Characters: Mikejima Madara, Itsuki Shu

Shu: Nnngh… … Yawn~...

(Because of the consecutive all-nighters I’ve pulled—or perhaps due to the immense relief I felt at having delivered the final products—I ended up sleeping soundly until well past noon.

Umu. Fortunately, there’s plenty of lead time before the next job is due. I will need to prioritise a proper rest in order to achieve the perfect results. 

Perhaps, I could take a stroll and clear my head—)

Madara: PLEASE PARDON THE INTRUSIOOON ☆

Shu: GEH—? Mi—Mikejima… …!? What in the world are you doing here!?

Hmph! Cease this tomfoolery of yours, and get yourself gone this instant! The last thing I’d want is for a barbarian like you to be rampaging around my atelier!

Madara: Hahaha! What a nostalgic exchange of words!

I recall having a similar conversation with you back in the day when we were both in Yumenosaki Academy! It was about the Museum (1), if I remember correctly—

Shu: NON! I have no intention of reminiscing about Yumenosaki with you!

You came here for a reason, did you not? State your business quickly, and in as few words as possible. 

Madara: My business, huh~? What if I told you it's “Nothing at all”?

Shu: (glares) … … … …

Madara: Sorry, sorry! I was just kidding, alright? Please stop with the death glare already!

Actually, I’m here because Leo-san asked me for a favour. 

Shu: Hmm? Because of Tsukinaga… …?

Madara: Yes. Apparently, he’s been treating the pen case that Shu-san gave him like a precious treasure, however—

He was so focused on caring for the case, that he left all his writing stuff behind in this atelier. 

Shu: So that’s the reason he ended up taking just the pen case home with him? He’s quite the amazing fellow for doing that, honestly. 

And what about you? Did you really come all this way to Paris just for Tsukinaga’s forgotten items?

Madara: Nope. It just so happened I had some business in Europe, so I just dropped by. 

Shu: “Just dropped by”—you say? Even though “Europe” can be expressed as a single word, it’s still not a place you can travel about hither and yon on a whim and fancy. 

Anyway, Tsukinaga’s belongings aren’t here anymore. The other day, I happened to send some parcels to Seisoukan, so I slipped his forgotten items in as well. That’s where they are now. 

For heaven’s sake. Anyone and everyone seems to be carelessly leaving their things behind lately. They’re travelling abroad after all; I’d really wish they’d be more careful!

Madara: I agree. The language and culture are different here, so one shouldn’t assume that things will be the same as back home in Japan. It’s better to be more careful in the end.

However, I believe the reason people always leave their stuff behind in Shu’s atelier is because they feel so much at home here, you knowww ♪

Shu: Hmph. I’m not happy to hear that at all. This place isn’t a playground, you know. 

It looks like you've made a wasted trip. Will you be leaving Paris right away?

Madara: Nope. I’ve got some time before my flight, so I’ll relax and enjoy myself till then. 

… … Hmmm? Why are you all dressed up for?

Are you heading out? If so, I’d absolutely love to tag along ☆

Shu: Hmph. Forget it. Being with you, Mikejima, doesn’t exactly spell rest and relaxation for me. 

Madara: Haha! Oh, come on, don’t say that! As the saying goes, “No road is long in good company”, and two people will have more fun together than when they’re on their own, you knowww ♪

<An hour later.>

Shu: Umu. It seems there’s a flea market held here during the weekends. 

Madara: Oooh. What a classic Parisian scene~

You may already know this, but the origins of the flea market started right here in Paris. 

It is said that the name came from the fact that ‘antiques could be found in such sheer numbers, it was likened to a gathering of fleas’.

Shu: Urk. Please spare me your detailed description. I already knew about the name’s origins from long ago, and simply imagining it as you have described it makes my back itch. 

Besides, there are other theories about the origin of the name. 

Personally, I much prefer the idea that the name came about because of "the thrill which comes from the time and effort spent hunting for hidden treasures here, which are as elusive as fleas.”

Madara: The thrill of a long hunt, huh? Indeed, the accomplishment you feel when you locate a hidden treasure is reeeally something special!

Madara: … … Oh, what's this? It seems I have found something good right away!

Yes, yes! This piece of pottery will be perfect to display some plants ☆

Shu: Humu. Is gardening a hobby of yours? 

Madara: No, I wouldn’t exactlyyy call it a hobby, but—

I’m not sure who started it, but my dorm room is full~ of plants. I myself add in new ones occasionally too.  

Madara: [Excuse me, Shopkeeper! I’m interested in this piece of pottery here—]

Shu: (... … Hoho. His French seems pretty good, from all that time spent abroad. The best part of the flea market is the haggling over the price. It’s a battle of wits on how skilfully one can negotiate… …) <Ten minutes later.>

Madara: HEYYYY! I’m baaack, Shu-san!

I’m sooo sorry to have kept you waiting. Things got reeeally lively with the shopkeeper, and our conversation got carried away!

Shu: It’s alright, I don’t mind. I’m glad you got what seems to be a good deal. 

It’s really none of my business what happens to you, but witnessing someone I know get ripped off doesn’t sit right with me.

Madara: Ufufu. Have you been worried about me, Shu-san? You’re sooo kind… … ♪

Shu: Oh, for heaven’s sake. Stop jumping to weird conclusions. I simply did not wish to have an unpleasant experience. 

Madara: Hahaha! Even so, it made me reeeally happy ♪

And since I managed to score a good deal just now, I’ll give you a treat as a thank you for waiting!

Please recommend a local specialty, Shu-san!

Shu: Hmmm… … In that case, how about “Marron Chaud”—or roasted chestnuts?

It’s a winter specialty that’s sold all over town at this time of the year.

Madara: Hoho! That sounds great. It seems like it’ll warm the body up too!

There’s the scent of something reeeally fragrant coming from over there. Let’s go grab some right now… … ☆

Translator’s Notes: 1) (!) era story, Steampunk Museum.

[gracexthoughts]

of violent delights chap 16

too sweet

7  june 1996

Euphemia’s POV 

We made it back to the hospital wing last night in the nick of time and the discovery that Sirius had escaped sent Snape into a conniption. I won’t deny it was slightly amusing; while Snape tends to be nicer to me than Harry, he’s still a prick. Pomfrey let Harry, Hermione, Ron and I leave the hospital wing at noon this afternoon, although most of the students are at Hogsmeade for the last trip before the train leaves tomorrow. 

Exhausted, I’ve chosen to rest instead of going to Hogsmeade. We may have gone to bed around eleven last night, but I added about 3 extra hours to my life so I feel like I stayed up most of the night but first, Harry and I decide to pay a visit to Lupin. His office door is open and as we enter, I notice most of his things have already been packed. “Hello Mia, Harry,” Lupin says before he turns to see us, “I saw you coming,” he smiles and motions to the Maruader’s Map open on his desk. He has more scrapes across his face and he looks terribly pale. “I’ve looked worse.” 

“You’ve been sacked?” Harry asks, looking around. 

“No, I’ve resigned. Professor Snape let slip the nature of my condition and I feel its best to get ahead. At this point, the outcome is inevitable.” Lupin sighs, taking books from the shelf behind his desk and into a case. 

“That’s not fair! You didn’t hurt anyone! Maybe Dumbledore-” 

“Dumbldore has already risked enough on my behalf,” Lupin interrupts me, raising a hand to stop me. “By this time tomorrow, owls will start arriving with angry letters from parents. Like I said, it is inevitable. It’s alright, let’s just say I’m used to it.” 

“Doesn’t make it fair,” I sigh. “You’ll come live with us, won’t you? Now that Sirius can’t, we have the room.” 

“I will visit, I promise, but I won’t stay. I have my own place in London and you don’t need a guardian anymore, Mia.” Lupin moves around the desk and leans against it to face us. “I’m quite proud of the two of you and how much you learned this year. Tell me about your Patronuses.” 

Harry and I tell him what happened, both times, and what forms our charms took. “Our father, his animagus form was a stag wasn’t it?” Harry asks at the end of his story. 

“Yes, that’s why we called him Prongs,” Lupin says, smiling faintly at the memory. He stands suddenly, as if just remembering something important, and moves back around his desk and hands harry back his Invisibility Cloak. “I brought this back from the Shack this morning. And, since I am no longer your teacher, I feel no guilt about giving this back to you as well,” he says motioning to the map. “I dare say that James would be very disappointed if his children never found any of the secret passages in the castle.” We all chuckle at that. 

“None of it made any difference,” Harry says sadly, looking down at the cloak in his hands, “Pettigrew got away and Sirius-” 

“Is alive. That makes all the difference in the world,” Lupin implores, looking very deeply into Harry’s eyes as he places a hand on his shoulder. “You did a very noble thing, stopping us from killing Peter. Your parents would have most certainly done the same, and Sirius may not be absolved but he is free. And the two of you are certain of his innocence. That, for now, is enough… Now, I must say goodbye. Send me an owl once you are settled in your apartment, okay?” Lupin asks, handing me a small piece of parchment with an address scribbled on it. 

“I will,” I nod, smiling up at my godfather and he nods, picking up his suitcase and his walking stick but before he does, he turns to the map still on his desk and, with a flick of his wand, mutters “Mischief Managed,” with a nostalgic smile and leaves the office and the classroom, leaving Harry and I in his office in silence, just the two of us once again. 

✦

Mattheo’s POV

I step into the already raging party, instantly hit with loud music and flashing lights, the air is thick with warmth and smoke as a majority of the student body celebrates the end of the school year. I push through the crowd until I see Theo, Enzo, Elladora and Astoria and make my way towards them. 

“Hey mate, finally decided to stop moping and join the party?” Theo chuckles, lightly smacking my shoulder. 

“Shut up,” I grumble and take the liquor bottle that he’s holding and take a swig. 

“Why were you moping, Mattheo?” Astoria asks from the arm of the chair to my left. 

“He got stood up by the princess last night,” Enzo says sitting down next to her, his comment making Theo chuckle. Enzo and Theo had been the unfortunate two that were still in the common room when I finally came back last night and I told them everything which I am now severely regretting. 

“You planned a date with her?” Elladora cries, disgust on her face. 

“No!” I growl, reaching around Astoria to smack the top of Enzo’s head. “We were supposed to have rounds. She bailed and I am not moping.” 

Ella watches me for a moment before stepping closer and leaning up to whisper in my ear, “When she breaks your heart don’t come crying to me.” And with that, she shoves past me and further into the party. 

“For the record, I think the two of you would be great together, Matt,” Astoria says, squeezing my hand for a moment. 

“Yeah, The Girl Who Lived and the Heir of the Dark Lord. Common sense pairing really; what could go wrong?” Enzo mutters behind his drink, earning another smack but from Astoria this time. 

“Why should that matter? The war is over and your father’s gone, isn’t he?” 

“I need a drink. Feel free to stop discussing my life,” I grumble and turn away from my friends, their laughter following me. I push through the crowd towards the back wall of the room where the drink table is and at it, I see a familiar figure making a drink. 

“Well, well, well, look who I found,” I say lowly in her ear, startling her and she turns to face me. 

“Hey! You scared the shit outta me!” Mia says, her face lighting up with a large smile. 

“Hey Princess,” I say with a small smile. She’s wearing lightly distressed jeans and a tight and cropped green shirt which makes her auburn hair look more vibrant; all this to say she looks fucking hot. “You look great,” I say, resisting the urge to tell her how good she looks in green and how lovely she’d look wrapped up in the dark green sheets of my dorm bed. 

“Thanks,” she says, her cheeks flushing as she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “Hey listen, I’m so sorry about last night,” Mia says earnestly, “The whole thing was so much more complicated and insane than I ever could have guessed and I couldn’t get away. I’m sorry.” Her green eyes are wide and honest and all the bitterness that has sat in my chest the last 24 hours melts away. 

“‘S’arlight, Mia. No big deal,” I say with a shrug, hoping I’m hiding the disappointment I felt last night. 

“I’m even more sorry that my brother interrupted us yesterday,” she says, picking up the drink she had been making and taking a sip. 

“We do seem to get interrupted a lot, don’t we?” I chuckle, pouring myself a cup of Firewhiskey. I tell myself that us getting interrupted is for the best but still everytime I’m left wondering what would have happened if we were left alone for another minute or twenty. “So, what happened last night that was such a mess?” 

“Ugh, Godric,” she sighs with a chuckle. “It’s a very long story but it involved a secret tunnel, a werewolf, a rat, a dog and several dementors.” 

“Bloody hell, what did you get yourself into this time?” I chuckle, eyes wide and Mia laughs. 

“A mess for sure,” she laughs. “But it ended up being for the best, I think.” 

“You didn’t have anything to do with the runaway hippogriff and Sirius Black escaping, did you princess?” I ask, stepping closer, and very intrigued at hearing her story. 

“That’s preposterous!” She exclaims, sarcastically scandalized. 

“Salazar, it’s a party, Potter, not school. Who actually speaks like that?” I tease. 

“Huh, and here I was starting to think you liked the way I talk,” she fires back without a moment’s hesitation, her eyes flicking to my lips only for a moment. 

“Hey, Mia, there you are. You said you’d be right back and I got worried. Everything okay here?” One of the Weasley twins asks, his eyes boring into me as I step back from Mia and he wraps an arm around her. Mia’s shoulders tense slightly as irritation flickers in her eyes for a split second. 

“Peachy,” I deadpan, returning his gaze as I take a long sip of my drink. Interrupted, again. 

“Hey, Freddie, Matt and I were just talking. Do you need a drink?” Mia says and I suppress a smile at Mia using my nickname so casually in front of Fred because it seems to cause him to bristle. Fred raises an eyebrow and looks back to me, his arm still around Mia’s shoulders casually, the sight twisting my gut into a knot.

“Oh yeah? Sure, I’ll take a drink,” he says, not taking his eyes off me as he grabs an alcoholic Butterbeer bottle but it seems like he’s had quite a few already. 

“Yeah, Freddie. No need for a guard dog,” I sneer, leaning back against the table, my gaze not leaving Fred’s, jealousy raging in my stomach and chest. Fred stiffens, his jaw ticking, as Mia moves out from under her arm. 

“Okay, unnecessary,” she snaps at me before looking back to Weasley. “Can the two of you cool it with whatever macho-testosterone-filled-pissing contest you’ve had going all year? Unless you’d rather go to the bathroom and measure them just to finally settle it all?” Mia snarks. “Mattheo and I are friends now, I told you that earlier, so there’s no need to be protective,” she says to Fred before turning to me, ”and there’s no need to be defensive.” She looks between the two of us, daring one of us to defy her. 

“Mia, how can you be friendly with him? His father-”

“I am very aware, Fred, and if I, of all people, can move past it then certainly you can as well!” Mia fires back, interrupting Fred. 

“I don’t need you to defend me, princess,” I bite out, my gut twisting more and more every time Mia looks at him. Mia turns to me, hurt hiding behind her eyes and I immediately regret saying it. 

“Hey, don’t talk to her like that!” Fred snaps, reaching out to push me back but I swing on instrict, my fist connecting with his face, and force him to stumble back. 

“Stop!” Mia cries, stepping between us as a crowd forms a circle around us. Mia pulls Fred’s hand away from his face, nothing bleeding but he’ll take a shiner home tomorrow. Fred pushes Mia behind him, her much smaller frame easy for him to push back as he comes to get in my face, using the inch of height he has on me to his advantage. 

“You leave her alone. She has enough trouble in her life without you adding more,” he says lowly to me, trying to be threatening but, to me, the pranksters of Hogwarts are just clowns. 

“Back up, Weasley, or I’ll send you home to your mummy in a box,” But I don’t get a chance to make good on my threat as Mia wrenches Fred back by his arm and starts shouting at him how she’s not a helpless damsel in distress and she doesn’t need him to protect her from anyone but I stop listening and stalk through the crowd and out of the party. 

At the back of the room, there's a slightly hidden staircase that leads up to the boat house and the lake. I take the stairs two at a time, no longer in the mood for parties or people, and take a deep breath as the warm night air hits my face and enters my lungs. She’s too good for you. She’s better off without you in her life, the voice in my head reminds me, souring my mood further as I reach for a cigarette. I try to spark my lighter but it refuses to light, out of fuel, and angrily I chuck it into the water of the Black Lake, sending ripples across the otherwise still waters as I sit on the edge of the ancient dock. 

I sigh, looking down at the unlit cigarette in my hand and try to snap the fingers of my free hand, desperately hoping to produce a flame long enough to spark. After a few tries, I manage it; a small but steady flame at my fingertips, the warmth dancing along my skin but not burning, and I inhale the smoke into my lungs and let the flame extinguish. The waning moon shines brightly on the surface of the lake and the hum of insects and birds and creatures fills my ears, slowly draining the angry blaze in my chest to smoldering embers. 

I don’t know how long I sit here, smoking and staring at the water and thinking about Mia; the physical manifestation of all I want in the world and everything I can’t have. Of course the first girl I want more than one night with is her. She’s too good, too sweet, too gentle for the likes of me. Men like me don’t get the girl, they don’t get happy endings, they don’t get what they want and I hate myself for allowing my heart to convince my brain that I could have all that. I take a final drag of my cigarette and flick the roach into the water, sending more ripples across the surface as it floats away with my hope. 

“That’s littering, you know?” A voice pulls me from the dark depths of my own mind and I turn my head to see Mia standing by the stairs. 

“Gonna give me detention? Get a head start on next year?” I ask dryly, turning back to look out at the water. I hear Mia’s footsteps across the wooden dock until she appears in my peripheral and sits next to me at the edge of the dock. 

“I’m really sorry about Fred. He’s drunk and he’s being stupid and protective and a jerk. He shouldn’t have brought up your dad, you don’t deserve that, I’m sorry,’’ she says, her voice soft and gentle. 

“‘S fine,” I grumble, resisting the urge to look at her. 

“No it’s not. He was totally out of line, that’s not okay,” she implores. When I don’t respond, she reaches out, placing her hand on my knee and setting me on fire, but I can’t give in to it, I can’t, so I pull away and stand up.

“I’m used to it. It’s whatever. Have a good summer, Potter,” I force myself to say, sparing one glance at her beautiful face clouded in hurt, before I tear my eyes away and start back towards the party. 

“So that’s it?” Her voice rings out, stopping me in my tracks against my will. “The year is over and you’re just going to go back to hating me? Pretend that nothing happened this year? That something didn’t change between us? That there’s nothing here? You’re just gonna run away because you’re scared?” Hurt clouds her voice, changing it from the clear, sweet, tempting sound I’m so used to and I turn around to face her. She’s standing now, her back to the water and her hair blowing out behind her in the gentle breeze, her eyes dark in the low light but confusion shines in them. Even with her face in shadows and her features contorted by pain, she’s still the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. 

“I’m not scared,” I manage to say, my fists clenched at my side. 

“Then why are you acting like this? C’mon Mattheo, we’ve been towing this line for months and you’re going to just walk away? Try and make me think it's all been in my head?” She asks, moving to close some of the distance between us. 

“Mia,” I breathe out, her magnetic field threatening to pull me in the closer she gets to me.

“No. Say it. Tell me it's all in my head,” she implores, looking up at me pleadingly, like I am her last life line. 

“Stop.” 

“I'll stop if you can look me in the eyes and tell me its all in my head...You can’t say it, can you?” She asks, now a mere breath away from me, her perfume invading my senses and it takes all of my crumpling willpower to not reach out and touch her. “You’re many things, Mattheo Riddle, but you are not a liar. Not to me. You can’t say it because you know it's not true. You’ve felt it too.” 

“I’m not a good man, Mia,” I say, my voice rough. “I’m not a good person and I’m not going to pretend I am because running around pretending you are a good person is worse than just accepting you aren't one. I’m not good for you; everything I touch I break and I don’t want to break you.” 

“I think you are a good person. I’ve seen it, I know it. You’re just afraid to show anyone because you think it makes you weak but it doesn’t!” 

“I’m not afraid of anything,” I snap. 

“Fine, then prove it!” She says so loudly it echoes over the water for a moment. We stand there for a moment completely still, our eyes locked and our breath uneven. I want nothing more than to close the distance between us but I don’t because she’s right. I am scared. I’m scared because there is no way this works out well. I’m not a good man and I’m not a good partner and she deserves the world and I could never give it to her. “Why are you so bloody stubborn?” She breathes out, shaking her head slightly before she takes a step forward and, cupping my face in her hands, presses her lips to mine and my world explodes. 

All my willpower crumples under her touch and I give in; my hands find the bare skin of her waist, pulling her body closer to mine, as our lips move in tandem. All I’m aware of is her; her lips, the way she smells and tastes, and the feel of her body pressed against mine. The world could implode around us and I wouldn’t notice, all my senses are consumed with her. Her hands are in my hair, tangling with my curls and I pull her impossibly closer as my hands clutch her to me desperately; one still on the bare skin of her waist and the other on her cheek, wrapped up in strands of her hair that is as soft as I’ve always thought it looked. I kiss her like the world is ending, like a starved man who hasn’t eaten in years, like kissing her could absolve me of all the darkness in my soul and make me anew. 

She pulls away slightly after a moment, both of us breathless, and I’m in awe of her like this: her lips swollen, hair tousled and pupils dilated. “Matt,” she says breathlessly and I lean back in, capturing her lips once more. I step her backwards until her back is pressed against the wall of the boathouse, eliciting a small gasp from Mia’s mouth as her bare skin collides with the cool glass. I smirk against her lips, pressing further into her body as I deepen the kiss, taking advantage of her gasp. My body takes over, no longer thinking through my actions or their consequences, and I just feel. All that exists to me in this moment is us and for once I’m not the son of the Dark Lord and she’s not The Girl Who Lived. We are just Mattheo and Euphemia, Matt and Mia, and right now that is more than enough.

a/n; ahhhh!!!

yes this is named after too sweet by hozier bc its sooooo mattheo riddle coded and fit really well and I was listening to it while i wrote this. also this gif makes me literally feral so enjoy ;)

one more chapter to go in PoA year and then we get to move on to GoF so yay!

taglist; @purplegardenwhispers @somethingswiftandstyles @weasleyreidstyles @mayamonroem @girlbooklover555 @stxrszurzolo @abaker74

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for abandoning my assistant at our new job?

I (22F) am a grocery store department manager and my assistant (26F) is my best friend. We previously worked at nice, low-volume, good work culture type store for a year and a half together while she was still a clerk. The notoriously horrible and constantly-falling-apart store down the street suddenly had two openings for our department for manager and assistant manager. She was definitely overqualified to become an assistant and I had good reports as the manager at this location, and thought we could work some magic on that place and really shape it up. So we made a plan, applied for the transfer and we were accepted. Once we started working there the department started performing amazingly and the people within the department were very happy with us as the new management crew.

Two issues - number 1 there is a store assistant manager who is racist, homophobic, and sexually harasses employees (she has 15+ HR complaints against her and it’s beyond me why corporate doesn’t fire her). She has targeted my assistant and within her first 5 days of working there, she wanted to call for a replacement, and called her lazy. I knew about this person before transferring but my assistant didn’t. I warned her beforehand and encouraged her to use the corporate HR hotline to report any and all behavior. (I have been a victim of this lady too, she asks me invasive sexual questions…)

Number 2 - I am now being worked 7 days a week, 10-12 hour days, and various start times anywhere between midnight and 1 pm. I’ll be off at 4 pm from a day shift, have to go back in at midnight, work midnight to noon, and then cover the evening call out by going in for another 2 hours from 4pm-6pm. Because I’m the manager, I can be worked like a dog but other people are not allowed to even stay an hour of overtime per week. My sleep deprivation has led me to faint, be hospitalized, miss doctors appointments, etc. All around awful. My store managers recognize that I’m suffering but due to corporate standards for scheduling, there is no escaping this, unless I want to make my poor assistant go through what I’m going through, which I refuse to allow another person to experience this.

I can’t take it anymore. I finally broke when I showed up to a scheduled overnight shift 2.5 hrs late due to pure exhaustion, and started having hallucinations on shift. Corporate surprised us at 8 am that day and gave my department a bad review, and I broke down in the middle of the sales floor in front of corporate, customers, and my store managers screaming “FUCK THIS I CAN’T FUCKING DO THIS ANYMORE.”

I was surprised that I wasn’t fired but store management was surprised that I didn’t walk out. I didn’t because I have rent to pay. But the incident finally made me realize that this store is hurting my health and I’ve decided to send applications out to other jobs. Stepping down within the company or transferring back to the old store is not an option because department head is not open and even if I stepped down, they’d still work me like a department manager because they know what work I’m capable of. I want something new, a fresh clean slate.

However my assistant very badly needed this pay raise and guaranteed full time contract. She wouldn’t leave. She has an upcoming wedding and needs to put food on the table for her child. She is my best friend outside of work and we’re very close. I would feel terrible abandoning her in an already shitty work situation that I dragged her into - it was my idea and my reference for her promotion. I made promises to take care of a certain portion of duties if she did another portion. If I left, it would be ALL on her, job of both assistant and manager either as an assistant or if she’s offered manager. Either way, that would be a worse schedule than what I’m going through right now. And she would have to deal with that terrible store assistant alone. Anyways, I’d be scared to lose her friendship if I left. But I can’t take it anymore. She recognizes that too, however, she’s sympathetic to the literal medical faults my schedule is causing.

I feel like it’s my fault that she got harassed in the first place, and I feel like it’s my fault that she’s now unhappy with her job. I don’t want to lose my best friend.

WIBTA for leaving my job?

What are these acronyms?

[aita-polls]

AITA: My (F31) best friend (F33) got angry at me for not organizing her a bigger birthday celebration.

I've known my best friend for 10 years, we've been through a lot, we used to work together and now we don't anymore, so we only see each other for birthdays and celebrations, and we text each other as we need to, not everyday nor once a week, more like twice a month.

Usually on my birthdays she and our other best friend (M37) go all the way out to celebrate me. It's been a dynamic we've had since we met, that in our birthdays we try to go all in, with surprises, usually weekends spent somewhere else (like the beach or mountain) and basically doing a lot for the birthday person, it's not always perfect but most of the times it's big.

Now last year, we tried to organize for her a good birthday celebration, we went to have dinner at the beach and then to a kind of amusement park close to it (we're not from the US), it was expensive and supposed to be nice but it rained and the restaurant we were supposed to go was closed so we went to another one and basically I could tell she didn't like it. She didn't say anything except that she and her girlfriend didn't like to go out that much anymore because of drinking and driving, so like they felt more comfortable drinking at home. And that was her excuse for like, not having fun then.

So this year we planned a home party for her. We went all in with liquor and different cocktails, more expensive stuff that we usually don't do, snacks and everything, but due to convenience (her house being the biggest and having enough rooms for all of us to sleep in) we decided to throw her the party in her own house. I asked her and her gf if that was okay, if they liked the plan and she said yes, that she'd always welcome us gladly... it was supposed to be an opportunity to be stupid silly drunk without any of the risks or stress of doing it in a public place.

Fast forward to the very same day of the party... her girlfriend was in charge of getting some edibles for us to eat at the party and she tells me none of her suppliers has product available. I don't know anything about buying that kind of stuff, it's always their thing to get that for the group, so we tried a couple of options and basically we didn't have any weed for the night.

So she texted me asking, since we had no weed, if we had another plan for the night... I'm like ??? no??? we did have enough alcohol to get super wasted, so in my mind I was like: even tho it's sad we won't have weed, there's still everything else we had already purchased for the party.

She then sends me a 7 min voice note saying that she needed to be honest with me, that our friendship could survive this because we were both adults and I should be able to listen to this without it offending me, but basically she felt bad because she thought she deserved better than just a house party, in her own place where she's everyday... that all of our parties she did everything to make it special, and started naming examples of this, but that since last year she'd felt we didn't do the same for her. That last year we went to places she'd already been in, and this year we were doing the party at a house? when none of our celebrations were ever at our houses... and stuff like that.

She also mentioned that though it's true that she's been forgetting to get us christmas presents for the past two years (which is true) it's not fair for her to get this kind of celebration, when we are three people (me, my other friend and her gf) to divide expenses with...

So, AITA for not planning a bigger party for her? I genuinely thought that the house celebration was going to be good, I'd like something like that for my own bday party. I also feel like, if she felt like this she should've told me before, not the exact day of the party at noon. I feel like she only said this to make me feel bad and I'm still so angry, but when I've talked about it with people irl they only say that she should've mentioned it before... but they do think that her comments are valid, as in, she's right we should've done something bigger for her... so I'm genuinely asking 🙏🏽