#we disappoint we leave a mess we die but we don’t

[lestatslestits]

Hmm.

Oh, Daniel…

[neowinestainedress]

IM BEGGING ABT SUB!JISUNG WHO IS VERY PASSIVE AND RECEPTIVE PLEASEEE 😭😭😭

w!: femdom, orgasm control/denial, pegging, overstimulation, dom!reader, sub!jisung. no use of y/n, no physical description (no body type, hair, skin color etc)

a/n: if last year someone told me that my first writing post of 2024 would've been a jisung “drabble” i would've laughed at their face but here we are. i'm struggling to write lately so PLEASE please if you liked it let me know and reblog so more people can read it. enjoy!

Jisung would do anything for you. Or, well, to be more accurate, he would do anything to please you. 

You can’t name what you two share; if you did, you’d probably call it a tangle of messy bedsheets, wet lip kisses, and whispered moans. But there is something holding you two together. 

“Please, please, you can’t,” he stutters through gritted teeth. His head is rolled back, resting against the bedframe, damp hair sticks to his handsome face that’s tinted a bright red, and his hips jerk uncontrollably against your hand. 

“I can’t, what? Jisung,” you reply with a slight stern edge in your voice. Your hand stops at the base of his throbbing dick, leaking a copious amount of pre-cum, rolling down his length until it meets your palm. 

“No-nothing, I’m – I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m sorry,” he mumbles shaking his head. 

“Good,” you smile smugly. “Cause you don’t make the rules here, I do.” 

“Yes, yes, you do,” he hums closing his eyes as he tries to concentrate on his breathing. 

“And I don’t see why I should let you come so soon when you look so pretty for me,” you tease and notice how he almost glares at you before he quickly turns his disappointment into a frown. 

So soon. 

You’ve been edging him for at least 30 minutes; chasing his build-up just to crash it, ruining every chance of an orgasm right in front of his face, the promise of being pegged slipping more and more away. 

It’s not a punishment. You know it, and he knows it, too. He loves this. He loves when you’re all over him, your soft left hand crazing his skin while the right one moves with quick motions on his hard dick. Your lips leaving kisses like brushes of a feather on his sensible neck. The strong tug of your fingers in his black, long hair, making him hiss. 

And you love this, too. Jisung reacts perfectly at each snap of your finger. He’s so delicate as soon as you enter your private bubble and leave the world outside, crumbling at your feet like a sandcastle. His clothes are quickly on the floor as he lets you guide you to the bed where he lets you do anything you please. And all it takes to make him fall apart is you touching him. Your hands on his burning skin set him on fire, and elicit raspy begs for “more” following calls of your name as his pleading eyes look into yours. 

“You’re so pretty, you know?” You will never get tired of reminding him that when his eyes light up at each compliment. “My pretty boy.” 

“Yeah, yours,” he replies, voice slurred. You’re sure by the end of the night it will be completely hoarse. 

He’s doing everything he can to hold the nth orgasm in. He hates to fail, especially with you. He has to keep it together. But you’re not doing anything to help him. 

You lean over, pressing your arms together, pushing your boobs closer, the soft curves bulging out of your skin-tight top. Jisung wants to die. He needs to touch you, but you don’t let him, not now. It’s your turn to have fun, he’s just a toy in your hands right now, he has to watch and take. But he can’t endure it any longer. 

“You’re making a mess, babe,” you pout, looking between his legs. “I can’t let you come or else you’ll make even worse.” 

“No, no, please, I – I won’t, it’s too much,” he cries out. 

“Okay, then,” you say. You watch his eyes light up, a sigh of relief bolt over his face, just for it to drop as soon as your hand leaves his body. His eyes panic, he doesn’t even dare to look down to confirm your hand is not there anymore. You’ve done it again. 

“No, please,” Jisung whines. This time he can’t hide his annoyance. 

“I thought you wanted my dick,” you say, tilting your head to the side. 

“Yes but,” he almost sobs, “that will make me come as soon as… you know…” he whispers, too shy to say it loud, looking away. 

“Mhh, no, I fear I don’t know.” 

“God, why are you like this?” 

“Excuse me?” You scold. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but… I, I need to come. You’ve edged me for so long, I will… I will come as soon as you enter me if I don’t, and you won’t let me come that easily.” 

This is not a punishment. So, yes, he has a point. You do have a lot of fun doing this, watching him struggle to keep it together as you fuck into him. However, today is not the day. 

Without adding a word, your hand is back around his dick, moving up and down quickly. The sudden movement makes him gasp and he has to contain himself to don’t squeal in exactment. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he mumbles before the only things coming out of his mouth are moans. His hips buckle against you, desperately chasing the long awaited high. 

“Come on, let go,” you order, and before his brain can even register the sound, he comes undone in your hands. White cum spurts over your hand, arms and his abs, making a mess like predicted, but you don’t stop, milking him until there’s nothing left behind and he has to beg you to stop. 

“Good boy,” you praise, stopping your movements before leaning close. “Calm down, you did great.” Your words make him smile, but he still leans in for a kiss. “You can touch me,” you mumble in the kiss when you notice his hesitating hands lingering close to your body, and you don’t need to repeat yourself. 

Jisung pulls you closer, kneading the skin of your hips, long fingers pressing into your skin. He’s a bit aggressive sometimes without noticing, his eagerness makes him clumsy, but you don’t care, that’s another thing you like about him. 

“Do you still want me to fuck you?” You ask when you pull away, reaching for the bedside table to grab a napkin and clean yourself. 

“Yes, please, I wanted you all day, you’ve been driving me crazy,” he says, getting ready to lay on his back. 

He didn’t lie, you did tease him all day long. You were quite surprised you made it home and didn’t end up doing it in the car. 

His hungry eyes burn on you as you undress and slip in the strap-on. It makes you feel so powerful as you stare down at his bare figure, laying powerless on the mattress. 

“You’re so hot,” Jisung whispers, face catching fire as soon as you look at him and smile. He’s so shy and embarrassed; your favorite type to mess with. 

When your lube-covered fingers slip into his tight hole, his head rolls back as he traps his lower lip between his teeth to not let out pathetic moans. 

“Is this all you need? My fingers?” 

“You’re good,” he stutters. “You’re too good.” 

You grin. You know you are. 

As you get him ready to take your dick, you let your fingers slide deep inside and curl up just as he likes it, slow and nice, to let him feel everything. 

You get drunk in his low moans, muffled by the arm he put on top of his mouth to don’t sound so desperate, and the way his dick is hardening again, slowly throbbing on his defined abs. 

“You think you’re ready for me?” 

Jisung nods enthusiastically. “Yes, I always am. Please, fuck me,” he begs, hands reaching out to touch you. 

“If you say so,” you smile, pulling your fingers out of him, making him groan in disappointment. 

You pour a generous amount of lube on your strap and push it against his entrance. One hand runs under the back of his thigh to pull him closer as the other grabs the base of the dildo to start pushing into him. 

As you slide inside, your eyes don’t leave his. Your heart races as you watch him fight to keep his eyes open (you want him to look at you when you do this) but he succeed, cause he’s just too good. 

“Touch me,” you order when you bottom in. He’s tired, completely consumed by lust, but he listens without wasting a second. His hands cup your boobs, starting to pleasure you as you slowly move out of him. He knows how much you love his hands, and he does all the tricks he knows you love; playing with your nipples, squeezing them, cupping the soft flesh. “Good boy,” you praise. 

But it’s hard to be so good when you pick up a steady rhythm. 

“You’re big,” he cries out as his head rolls back and his lips part to let out louder moans. 

“But you can take me, can’t you?” You tease, but behind your words hides genuine concern. He has this habit of rushing into things because he’s greedy. 

“Yes, yes, I can do anything for you,” he replies, nodding swiftly. 

“Good,” you hum. When you lean closer to kiss him, his hands wrap around your shoulders to pull you closer. His hips roll against you, messily trying to meet you halfway, and before you realize, his legs wrap around your body. 

“Somebody’s more eager than usual today,” you grin, brushing his wet black hair behind. 

“I’m – I’m sorry, I want you so bad.” 

“I’m right here,” you assure, kissing his cheek. “Do you want it harder?” 

Words struggle to come out and the only thing he can do is nod quickly. You straighten your back and then your hands grab his waist to pull him closer to you. The new position allows you to fuck faster into him, the harsh slam of your hips against his soft legs creating the vulgar sounds of skin loudly resonating in the room. 

“Please, please,” he moans, his voice so deep and hoarse it hits you straight to the core. “Wanna come, please, please, I’ll be good.” 

You quirk a brow. “Will you?” 

“Yes,” he nods enthusiastically. “I’ll take another one, I’ll take – I’ll take everything you have to give me, but please, let me come,” he begs. His eyes stare into yours, and your heart skips a bit at his clumped wet lashes, tears are pooled at the corner and you know with this orgasm they will flow like rivers on his cheeks. 

“Fine, you can come,” you say. Your hands clench harder around his waist, causing his skin to redden, but he barely feels it, too concentrated on the pleasure your fast thrusts are giving him. You don’t even need to touch his dick before he comes undone for the second time, shaking uncontrollably in your hands as the cum covers his lower abdomen. 

But this time you don’t slow down when he’s done, your movements are steady and leave him breathless. 

“Fuck,” he screams, fingers desperately reaching for you, and one of your hands intertwines with his fingers. But the soft gesture doesn’t match the ruthlessness of your movements. 

“You’re a mess,” you point out, kissing him. The tears are streaming down his face, his lips are plump from the torture he applied with his teeth, his hair is a mess, and his chest is rising fast. 

“But – but you like me,” he struggles to say, “you still like me, right? Please, tell me —fuck— tell me you still like me.” 

You smile, caressing his burning cheek. “Of course, I do. You’re my beautiful mess, right?” 

“Yes, yeah, I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m only —mmph— only yours,” he mutters. 

“Yeah, mine,” you say, cupping his face before pulling him into a deep, long kiss. 

Jisung’s hands run on your back, his short nails scratch your skin but you don’t mind, instead, you start moving even faster, pushing him close to the edge again. 

“Not again,” he cries, pleading eyes looking up at you. 

“You promised,” you remind him. 

He sniffles, trying to clean up the mess on his face with the palm of his hand but only makes it worse. “But – but it’s too much, I can’t last long– longer.” 

“We better make it quick, then.” 

His eyes light up. “Wa-wait, I can – I can come again?” 

You nod. 

“Ca-can you help – help me?” 

“Nope, no hands, babe. Don’t act like it’s hard for you.” 

“But –” 

Your stern gaze stops him in his tracks, and he simply nods. His eyes widen when you start teasing his nipples, and you both know it’s going to be even easier for him to come this time. And as expected in a few seconds he’s making a mess again. His moans are so messy and loud you’re surprised the neighbor didn’t come knock on your door yet. 

“Fuck, fuck, God,” he cries loudly, hiding his face with the pillow that he’s holding so tight his knuckles are going white. “Please, please, I – I, fuck, fuck.” His words are an incoherent mess, and more and more strings of white lay where the others are dried up by now. “Too much, too much, ma’am, can’t, no more.” 

You slow down while your hands caress his waist to soothe him, but his breathing is still frenetic and mumbles are coming out of his mouth. 

“You did great, you did such a good job,” you whisper, moving the corner of the pillow out of his face, forcing him to let go, and caressing his burning face. “Let me kiss you.” 

After the kiss you slip out of him completely and the emptiness makes him whine loudly. Once you’re out of the strap, you reach him with a glass of water and watch as he gulps it quickly. 

“Color?” You ask. You still haven’t come, and you need it. But he has already done so much you don’t want to push him over the edge. 

He slumps back on the bed, and you’re ready to hear a “red” but he surprises you. “Green, but I – I need just a few seconds to calm down. You’re too – too good at this,” he chuckles, blushing bright red. 

You smile, caressing his face. “You can use your fingers if you’re too stimulated.” 

He shakes his head. “No, I – I want you to feel you, please.” 

You chuckle at how he’s already in that mood again, ready to beg and do anything to make you feel good and make you proud of him. 

“Are you ready?” You ask as you straddle his lap. 

Jisung gulps and then nods, letting his hands rest on your hips. “I just – I can’t promise I’ll last long.” 

“It’s alright. Touch yourself, get yourself hard for me.” 

His right hand leaves your side to wrap around his soft dick, and as soon as his fingers come in contact with his skin he jerks up. He’s so fucking sensitive. And he knows he might’ve flown too close to the sun, but he doesn’t want to back down. 

He rarely gets to be inside of you, and he loves it, especially when he’s so stimulated. Will he turn into a mess in two seconds again? Yes. Does he care? No.

“Go slowly,” you say, watching as his big hand slides up and down his length. His long fingers shake every time he comes close to the sensitive tip and a strangled moan gets trapped in his throat. 

“Do – do you like this? Am I being good for you?” He asks with a shaking voice, eyes desperately seeking your validation. 

You nod. “So good. Just a few more, babe.” 

He hums, swallowing again as he tries to fight himself to not get close to another orgasm. But you’re not cruel, you just need him to get hard again. 

“Enough,” you order, making him stop immediately. His hand goes back on your body and his hard dick throbs against his abs. “Are you ready for me?” 

“Yes, I am, please, fuck me,” Jisung begs, grinding his hips against you. 

You snicker, shaking your head. “So greedy. After everything we did, you still want more.” 

“Yes, I need you. And I – I want you to feel good.” 

You need that too. Seeing him fall apart on your strap got you weak in your knees, and now you need to come. You know you won’t last long either when you’ve been on the edge all night. 

When you slide on top of him, his hips buck up, making you choke on a moan. “Jisung,” you scold. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “Please, use me.” 

And you do. You start to move up and down, feeling him fill you up, reaching so deep inside of you.  

“Touch me,” you order. “You know how I like it.” 

Jisung is lost in his haze, the afterglow of before mixing with the lust of this moment is getting completely in his head and this simple task seems impossible, but he always gives you what you want and ask for. 

So, even if not so quickly, his fingers reach your clit. When he starts rubbing it in swift circles, you see stars, and you know it won’t take long to fall apart. 

“You’re so wet, and feel so – so good,” he cries out. The way you squeeze around him is driving him insane, stimulating him like never before. “I need you, can you – can you kiss me? I won’t – I won’t stop I promise.” 

You don’t reply, and simply lean in to give him what he wants. His movements stop for a brief second but restart shortly after. Your moans blend in the kiss as your hand reaches his hair to tug on it, earning a low grunt from him. 

“You like it when I treat you roughly, don’t you?” You pull away just enough to get a glimpse of his face before tugging again, watching as his lips part to set free an even deeper moan. 

“Ye-yes, you can – you can do whatever you want with me,” he mumbles. 

“I know, honey, I know,” you grin before kissing him again. This time it’s rough and desperate, taking his breath away. 

When you pull away to have more room to move on top of him, your hand places on his chest before running up to reach his neck. Your thumb runs over his neck, caressing his adam’s apple as it bobs in his throat. He reached the limit. He’s holding on to make you feel good but you can see he’s pushing himself for you. There’s nothing in his eyes, just lust and need to release. His moans are loud and incoherent, and his hips pathetically try to meet you halfway. And when your hand wraps around his neck, he loses it. 

“Mhh, please, please,” he starts begging, his words sounding even more embarrassing muffled by your hand restricting the flow of air in his lung. The hand that is not working on you clenches hard around your waist, his nails leaving marks on your skin. “Need you, please.” 

“I’m right here.” 

Jisung cries, shaking his head. “Need you to – to come. Please, come with me. I’m – I’m good, right? You – you are close.” 

“You think so?” You tease. 

And he almost starts sobbing. “Yeah,” he cries in a snarl. “I know I – I make you feel good. I’m good for you, I know I am, please, tell me I’m – I’m your good toy.” 

You’d love to play with him more, but he’s at his breaking point, and even if all of this is playful you can see he’s far too deep in subspace and any degrading word might hit him too close. 

“You are,” you whisper, letting go of his neck to kiss him. “You’re my good boy. And since you’re my good boy —fuck— you will come with me, right?” 

“Yes, yes, I – I will, please, yes, yes,” he replies, reaching for your lips again. 

“Come with me.” 

“Oh, fuck,” he moans. “Thank you, thank you, fuck, thank you so – so much,” he mumbles breathlessly, words mixing with groans and whimpers as both of your orgasm break through. Your movements falter as the pleasure gets to your head and you finally let go of the built-up pressure, but you still ride him until you make sure you’re both done. 

And when you’re sure there’s nothing more to take and give, you collapse on his body. 

“Stay,” Jisung murmurs, wrapping his arms around your back when you try to roll to the side. “Please, stay,” his voice shakes, and a sob rolls from his tongue. 

“Jisung?” You ask worriedly, lifting your head to look at him. 

“I’m fine, I just…” he sniffles, “I… I want to feel you, and…cuddle some more.” 

You smile, letting out a sigh of relief. “Can I at least slip out of you?” 

He nods, and you slowly get off him. “You have cum everywhere, can I clean you up?” 

“No. I mean, yes, but not now, can we… can we just cuddle? I need you.” 

He’s still into his subspace and you won’t pull him out of there. You know he will fall asleep in that mess, but you can take care of that later. 

“Come here, rest your head against my chest,” you say, laying at his side, opening your arms so he can cuddle between them. “Is this alright?” 

“Perfect,” he mutters, nuzzling against your bare chest. “You smell good.” 

“Well, thanks, but I’d say I smell like sex.” 

“Mhh,” he whispers. “Thank you for taking care of me.” 

“It’s nothing, I have fun with you, and I like you.” 

He hums, and then some seconds of silence follow before the loudest thing he can say slips from his lips. “I love you.” 

You still, body stiffening, and look down. “You… what?” 

“I think I love you,” he replies nonchalantly, voice muffled by your chest. 

You can’t find the words to reply and, in your heart, you don’t know. “I don’t… I don’t know how to react. I think you’re confused.” 

You feel him shake his head, and you wonder how conscious he is. 

“I think we should… mhh, maybe talk about this tomorrow,” you say, trying to keep it cool, but you know he can feel your heart beating an abnormal amount inside your rib. 

“Fine,” he whispers, holding you closer. “Just don’t leave.” 

You gulp and look down. And as you watch Jisung’s body relax as he succumbs to sleep; his long lashes sitting on his rosy cheeks, his long hair framing his handsome face, his plump lips slightly parted puffing hair, you think to yourself you’re screwed. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t leave.” 

© neowinestaindress; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. you can find my works on ao3 (neowinestaindress) and wattpad (winestaintedress_; currently inactive).

[lighteyed]

can it be easy this once? / steve harrington

summary: steve accidentally gives a stupid answer to your honest question. (best friends with benefits pining idiots to lovers, fem!reader)

unedited we die like men & title from the alcott by the national ft taylor swift hehehe enjoy

It started as a means of comfort after Starcourt, when he was bloody and bruised up but you took him home and got closer, closer, closer, until it turned into a mess of blurred lines and panting breaths, lips swollen for reasons other than being hurt, for better reasons, reasons that brought forth safety and relief for the two of you. You both tend to hunger for such things. It’d been good, easy, for a bit there. Lately it’d felt like the intimacy was threatening to choke you. Like you’d never met a form of  closeness you didn’t cling to. And God, did it feel like you were clinging. Craving an unwarranted change. Was it so unwarranted? You weren’t sure, you could never tell.

    The air in his room is hot and sticky with summer, the ceiling fan providing the barest relief, your bare skin providing the slightest bit more. You stare all around his room, taking in all the stark traces of him, though in truth it doesn’t betray much, just as he attempts to. It’s a plain room, plaid walls, matching curtains, his desk messy and cluttered, all the dresser’s drawers slightly ajar like he spent a touch too long shuffling through all his clothes to determine which outfit would be best, which, knowing him in the way you do, he probably did. You knew he wasn’t as secure as he liked everyone to believe. Steve Harrington tried his best, but sometimes you saw right through him.

     Other times he was harder to read. It was probably purposeful, layers of protection built around himself. Don’t love anyone, don’t let anyone love you, and you won’t get hurt. People can only hurt you if you let them. Steve wasn’t letting anyone anymore. Definitely not his parents, definitely not Nancy Wheeler, definitely not random girls who would inevitably end up disappointed with him. He swore it all off. He was a hopeless romantic who never wanted to be in love again. You understood it for the most part. Or you attempted to. It was hard when you were halfway (maybe more than halfway) in love with the guy, in his bed most nights, in his company most days, acting like a couple without being an established couple because he was too hesitant and you were too gentle to be pushy.

    He nudges you lightly, naked chest peeking up from his covers, naked everything else kept firmly underneath. “You okay? You’re quiet.” He sits up so he’s level with you, and you avoid eye contact by leaning down toward the floor to grasp for the shirt he let you borrow, a faded Spider-Man one he insisted was from middle school. You didn’t entirely believe him, but maybe it was just funny, and kind of sweet, to picture Steve sleeping in a Spider-Man shirt and keeping it a secret just for himself. You pull the shirt on over your head, and before you can do it for yourself, he reaches for your hair and takes it out from where it’s caught under the shirt. The familiarity of it makes you flinch. You can have sex with him all you want but God forbid he’s the slightest bit loving outside of that. It confuses you, the softness in the touches that aren’t in bed with him. If he holds your hand in any context other than bringing you as into him as possible while he slips himself in and out, you lose all sense of normalcy between the two of you. You can’t be normal when he’s holding your hand and stroking your cheeks and being kind, soft, adoring Steve, without being your Steve.

     “I’m fine, I’m just…” You reach for your shorts at the end of the bed. Steve watches you get dressed with his eyebrows scrunched together, confused. You’re not usually in a rush to leave after you have sex. Not that he wants you to. He likes that you stay until day sinks into night and he drives you home and waits to repeat it all again. Waits to see you, generally. And it’s not sex every single time. You drag him to see whatever’s playing at the Hawk and he makes you sit with him at Family Video on slow days when it’s just him on the clock and a single tumbleweed blows through the store instead of any customers. He drives you just about anywhere you ask and he lets you put on any cassettes you want in his car even if he hates what’s playing. It’s nice, the friendship part of all of it. If you had to give everything else up and just keep the friendship you’d be willing. He’d be willing. You consider it. “Nothing, just tired, probably gonna head home,” you smile at him over your shoulder before pulling on your socks and it’s half-hearted and he knows it.

    “What? You can sleep here, you know that,” he waves a hand around the room, trying to catch your gaze, but you avoid his eyes again. Descending light slants in through the curtains and envelopes him in gold. He glows, he’s so pretty. His hair is messy from where you heatedly ran your hands through it, but it still looks nearly perfect. The fact that he always looks so good infuriates you.

    “No yeah, I know, I wanna like shower and stuff too, and I left my new book at home and I wanted to do some reading,” you bluff calmly, standing up from tangled bedsheets and roaming the room in search of your sneakers.

   “That Stephen King scary clown book? I’ll take you home and you can come back and read it here, so you don’t get scared,” and he knows you won’t get scared and that you love horror far more than he ever could but he just really, really doesn’t want to be alone. Why would you go when everything’s right here? His parents aren’t home and something about you leaving makes him antsy and desperate. When you still refuse to look at him he feels himself, his confidence, growing smaller and smaller. “Did I- did I do something?” He doesn’t mean for it to sound as pathetic as it does.

   You whip around to face him, finally, finally, and touch a hand to his face. Relief floods through him at the heat of your fingers. “No, of course not, it’s all me, okay? I’m all sweaty and awful.”

    “You look beautiful, I swear,” he squeezes your hand and you feel like you’re drowning. It’s hard to breathe, your chest tight. “Are you sure you’re okay? You can talk to me, it’s me.” He scoots closer, if that’s possible. “You’re one of my best friends, we tell each other everything.” You look up toward the ceiling, inwardly groaning. Best friend.

   “You do this with all your best friends?”  

    “Well, no, Robin wouldn’t touch me even if she didn’t like girls-“ He feels himself starting to grin, teasing smile lilting at his lips.

     “Steve!” You’re laughing a little and so is he as you push his arm back. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

    “What’d you mean, then?” He’s still smiling, that entrancing, deliberately pouty, lazy smile. Vaguely smirky. You don’t know if it’s deliberate, a ploy to distract you, con you into staying, make you less prone to saying what you want to say, but you press anyway, even though he’s making you want to lean forward and endlessly kiss the smirk off his mouth.

   “I just think, I don’t know… you’re not seeing anyone else, right?”

   “’Course not, why, you got other plans after this?” He grins again. You roll your eyes. He makes it so hard sometimes.

    “Steve,” you whine, “I’m so serious right now.”

    “Okay, okay. No, you’re the only one for me.” He means it. It’s the worst thing you’ve ever heard. “Are you seeing anyone else?” He asks you like it’s the easiest question in the world for him to ask but honestly he’s shitting his pants a little. He’s not sure what’d he say if you said yes, I am, and I think we should end this, which is where he’s assuming the conversation is going. You’ve got we shouldn’t do this anymore written all over you in his eyes and he’s steeling himself for the heartbreak.

     “Does it look like I am?”

     “Does it look like I am?” He repeats back, and he reaches for your hand in that too intimate way of his, takes it all careful and slow. “What’s this about?”

     “I just, I just think, that, you know, I’m not seeing anyone, and you’re not seeing anyone, but we’re sorta… seeing each other, yeah?” You gesture between the two of you. He nods. He’s staring at you very intensely, waiting for you to get your words out. He’s still waiting for you to say you think this whole thing has been a very bad mistake, a miscalculated judgement on your part, you should go back to the way things were, so he’s not expecting what comes out of you next. “Shouldn’t we be, like, official, then?”

     And instead of throwing up all the ways he so badly would love for that to happen, he chokes out, because he’s stupid and speechless, “Official?” And the way he says it, like it’s a curse when it’s only his disbelief that you’d want that with him after all this time, makes you immediately go into panic mode.

    He quite literally sees the way you lose any sense of confidence in your question and he immediately tries to take it back as you stand from his side and start trying to force your words back in your mouth, too. “Fuck, forget I said anything,” you mumble, spying your shoes shoved under his desk where you’d comfortably kicked them off. You hasten to put them on as Steve scrambles up from the bed and starts dressing, matching your frantic speed.

    “Hey, wait, that’s not what I- I didn’t mean it like that-“

     “It’s fine, Steve, I get it, I totally do, this isn’t that for you, it’s fine-“

      “It is, it is-“ but you’re not hearing him, your mind is already elsewhere. It’s in your own bed in the quiet, alone with your thoughts and not with him, mercifully not with him. You need this one mercy, “I’ll drive you home, babe, c’mon, I’ll explain everything, please-“

    “I got it, it’s fine, I’m fine, you don’t have to explain, okay? I got it,” and you don’t just walk out of his house and down the block to yours, you absolutely flee. You take Steve’s heart with you.

      He’s pacing the floor behind the register at Family Video three days and three shifts later, practically clawing at the walls of the place, and Robin is pulling her hair out at the sight of him in distress this way.

     “What did you do?” She finally breaks, flipping her magazine shut.

      “What? How do you know it was me?” He stops pacing. He hadn’t even noticed he was doing it.

       “You’ve had three shifts and she hasn’t visited one single time. She always visits. And I know I didn’t do anything wrong, because I never do anything wrong, so, what’d you do?” Robin places her hand under his chin and stares at him expectantly.

      He huffs, his hands on hips. “Maybe she did something, Robin, did you ever think of that?”

     “Definitely not,” Robin retorts, waiting for Steve to be serious.

      He deflates. “Okay, it was me.”

      “I know that, now continue.”

      “We were, you know,” he tilts his head down and raises his eyebrows and widens his eyes.

     “Having sex, sure,” Robin bobs her head. A customer in the nearest aisle frowns and shuffles toward a different section further away from the two of them.

     Steve shushes her. “I wasn’t trying to say it so loud.”

    “Having sex,” Robin repeats, louder this time, not bothering to fight back a laugh at Steve’s exasperated expression, “continue.”

      “Well, after that, she started asking if, if I was seeing anyone, which of course I’m not, because, you know, I’m into her, obviously, so I told her I wasn’t, and she said she wasn’t, so she said maybe we should be official.” Steve hesitates to say the rest of what happened. He still can’t believe all he could do when you said the words was repeat them back to you with that stupid look on his face instead of giving you the biggest, loudest declaration of love in a big, messy, pathetic, devoted way, the way he pictures himself when it comes to you, messy and pathetic and devoted, and he replays that moment back to himself all day long, thinking of everything else he could’ve said to make you understand.

    “That’s what you want, isn’t it? She’s all you talk about all day long, you want to be with her, don’t you?”

    “Of course I do!” He snaps, dragging a hand across his face. “But when she said it I just couldn’t get the words out and she got, she got so sad and she left without me being able to explain anything and she hasn’t answered the phone which, yes, I’ve been calling, and I don’t know how to do this.” He’d never been good at school but he knew he’d get a Grade A in Pitiful.

    “Do what? Tell a girl you love her? You’ve been in relationships before, Steve.”

    “I know, but…” he sighs. “I’m different now, like, it’s not as easy anymore, for me, and I- I don’t want her to get hurt, and I don’t want to get hurt, it’s like, everything used to be my fault, and I wasn’t as good as I could have been, and I don’t want to break anything, I don’t want it to get fucked up, because it’ll be my fault, and I can’t do that again. Not to her.” He swallows, the words harder to come by than he would care to admit. “I’m a little… I’m a little in love with her, I think.” This is said quietly. It frightens him to say it out loud. He’s gone over it in his head, those words, so few of them, but they say so much, and it’s scary. He hasn’t said them to someone in years. The last time he did he got so brutally hurt he thought he’d never recover. But he had. So why was it still so scary?

    “A little bit?” Robin teases, but it’s all love for him, truly.

    “Alright, a lot in love,” he concedes. He wants to get used to saying it. He wants to say it to you. For real. Loudly. “I still don’t know how to do this, though. Not anymore.”

   “Come on!” Robin gets up from her stool and places her hands on his shoulders. “You’re supposed to be Steve Harrington. You were using those…” she pauses for a beat and then, “charms,” the word is said with the smallest hint of sarcasm but she persists nonetheless, “on tons of girls in high school and at Scoops! Now whip them out again for our very nice friend that you sometimes go to town with!”

   “When did any of those charms,” he says it with a matching sarcastic tone, “work aside from when I was sixteen and an idiot?”

   “You might not be sixteen anymore but you’re still an idiot, if that helps.”

    “It doesn’t but thank you for the encouragement.”

    “I’m just saying!” She exclaims, throwing her hands up and returning back to her seat. “Putting yourself out there is always gonna be scary, but you can’t let that stop you. You’d actually be an idiot if you let that stop you. Are you just never gonna see her again? No, because you’d go insane. It’s not like what you did was all that bad anyway.”

    “You really think so?” He perks up a bit, needing that confirmation that he isn’t a totally awful and irredeemable person. It’s easy for him to fall headfirst into that spiral of thinking. It was a trap set with the most accessible, perfect bait and he somehow always found himself walking straight into it without stopping to think if he was being fair to himself.

    “You’ve both been in bad spots, you reacted the way you did and she reacted the way she did out of what was most likely panic and embarrassment. She’s definitely not even mad at you. Probably just, again, embarrassed. If you explain I think it’ll all be okay, Steve, I swear.” Robin can’t take much more of this conversation circling around, as much as she loves Steve and wants to be there for him, she would love him even more if he acted on his feelings and allowed himself some happiness for once.  “So do you think you can you, like, maybe go tell her so she can keep visiting us at work? I need more company than just you and Keith and these customers with no taste,” she complains, glaring at the closed door that hides Keith, in all his absolute glory. The customer from before hears her comment and storms out. Robin rolls her eyes.

    “Right, yeah, tell her I love her, tell my best friend I love her,” he frowns, nerves creeping up the back of his neck. “Maybe you could just call her first and ask-“

     “Steve! I am not meddling in your love life like that when you already know everything there is to know!” She throws her magazine at him. “She said she wants to be with you, go be with her!”

    “Alright, alright!” He waves his hands dismissively. He begins to pace again, this time his eyes held to the clock. Robin groans. There’s still three hours left of their shift.

     You’re in your room wallowing, or doing what’d you call attempting not to wallow but failing at it miserably. You haven’t touched a single page of your book, mostly content to just listen to sad records and more or less stare at the wall. It was stupid, you knew, to behave in such a way over some guy. But it didn’t feel like some guy. It was Steve, after all. It all felt deeper than just some guy. You two had been through a lot together, more than most people have been, and if you’d just ruined your friendship with someone you always felt safe, felt at home with, over feelings you couldn’t control and probably would be better off not having, you were going to need some serious therapy.

     It probably was silly of the two of you to start this thing up anyway, you reason, fighting back your urge to do any further crying into a pillow. You try to focus on painting your nails a nice shade of dark blue but it reminds you of Steve’s old Scoops uniform and of that night (and all that nights that followed) so you stop in the middle of your second thumb and grab nail polish remover and start scrubbing away at your finished right hand.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” you mutter, the cotton ball in your hand soaked through with blue and your nails discolored and muddy. “I am ridiculous,” you say to yourself, shaking off your wet hand. Your room is filled with the smell of acetone and disappointment. You think about lighting a candle when your doorbell rings. You debate answering it before it rings again. And then again. And again, more frenzied this time.

    You open the door to a distressed Steve. His cheeks are red and he’s breathing like he can’t anymore. He’s not the multi-star athlete he was in high school, he realizes in this moment. “Did you- did you just run here from work?” You ask him, but he’s already too close to you, not answering your question, gazing at you because simply looking isn’t enough and has never been enough. He is gazing. He is flush with adoration. It’s hard not to bloom under that radiance. He makes you want to forget everything and go back to plush lips on hot skin and the quiet contentment that came alongside being with him in those first few months. You back up a little into your doorway but he steps up to you, following your steps. “Where’s your car-“

    “Forget that for a sec,” he says, and you stop talking out of surprise. “Just, just tell me if we do this it’ll be okay, and we won’t be terrible for each other, and we’ll be good,” because he needs to hear it, even if it’s ridiculous and he’s jinxing it before it’s begun he needs to know you’re right there with him. “Like, just tell me it can be easy this once. If you broke my heart I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it. ‘Cause I love you. I do. And I want this.” And you get it. He’s letting you get it. He’s letting you all the way in. You realize, flustered and basking in it, that he’s the first one to say those words. That you hadn’t even said them when you posed your first question. But he’s saying them out loud and it’s brilliant and beautiful. He is beautiful.

    It makes you want to weep, the love that swells here, out in the open. “Fuck, Steve, what type of girl do you think I am, breaking the heart of the guy I’ve been in love with since he started sneaking into my bedroom?” He smiles. He glows. It’s so beautifully Steve. Maybe it can be easy.

    When he kisses you, he proves it: the ease, the tranquility. He is fervent and burning. Everything is urgent with Steve. Especially kissing. He captures every bit of you immediately. His touch is light when he urges you out of your doorway and into your living room so he can shut your front door and quit giving the neighbors what he’s sure is the show of a lifetime. It is for him, at least.

[moonstruckme]

hi mum can we get more dr rem PLEASE :3

Always pookie <3

cw: implicit nausea and vomit, no description

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Remus picks up on the third ring. “Hello?” 

The sound of his voice makes you smile even in your sorry state. “Hi, Remus.” 

“Hi.” Something softens in his tone; you like to think he’s smiling too. “I’m not late to pick you up, am I? I’ve only just got home from work.” 

“No, so did I.” You lean your forehead on the cool ceramic of your toilet tank, thanking your past self for having cleaned it just yesterday. “I actually…I’m sorry, I think I’m going to need a raincheck.” 

A pause. “Oh.” You wince at the disappointment in his voice. “That’s too bad. Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah, I think I’ve just caught a bug,” you say. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be much fun.” 

“You’re always fun,” Remus replies warmly, and you smile. “Are you not feeling well?” 

“Not great,” you hedge. You’ve been dating Remus long enough to know how he worries, and you don’t want that. “I’ll live, though. Maybe we can meet later in the week?” 

“Or,” he says, low and coaxing, “I could come over now and make you some soup.” 

You almost sigh, it sounds so nice. What you wouldn’t give to have him rub your back, carry you to bed and press a kiss to your brow. But you’re a mess right now, and you’re trying to save him from it. 

“I don’t think that’d be a good idea,” you say reluctantly. “Anyway, it’s not that kind of sick.” 

“Tell me your symptoms.”

“Ew,” you laugh. “Take me to dinner first, Lupin.”

“Well, I did try,” he says, and you can almost hear his smile through the phone. It catches just as easily as it does in person. “Seriously, love, how do you feel? Do you know what it is?” 

“Not necessarily, but it’s really not bad. I just don’t want to infect you.” 

“I could probably help.”

“But when you got sick I’d feel awful,” you tell him sincerely. “Thank you, but really, don’t worry about it. I’ll give you a ring when I’m no longer a biohazard, okay?” 

Remus harrumphs, but when he speaks his voice still crackles with fondness. “Alright.” 

“Thanks. Bye.” 

You hear him echo you as you lower the phone from your ear, setting it on the bathroom floor before following it down. You don’t feel secure enough in your stomach to leave the toilet just yet, so you curl up on the small mat by the shower and succumb to the exhaustion that’s been chasing you since lunchtime. 

~~~

“Oh, sweetheart.” 

You wake to a warm hand on your even warmer shoulder, startling a bit as you pull your face from the rug. Remus is looking down at you with an awful little crease between his brows. 

“Remus?” you ask, just to be sure. 

“Hi,” he says softly. “You didn’t sound this bad over the phone, you know. I’d have rushed if I knew you were about to take a nap on the floor.” 

You blink, trying to clear the fog from your brain. “How’d you get in here?” 

“You showed me the spare key when I took care of your plants, remember?” Remus looks a bit sorry, wedging a hand underneath your ribs to encourage you sitting up. “I did try to call, but I think you must have slept through it.” 

“Oh,” you murmur, getting upright and crossing your legs underneath you awkwardly.

He smiles thinly and sets a hand to your forehead. The gesture feels oddly intimate. You’ve slept with this man, met his friends, shown him where you keep your spare key, and somehow this feels intimate.

Remus makes a terribly lovely cooing sound. You think you might just die right here. 

“You’re burning,” he says worriedly. “How long have you been feeling like this?” 

“Since about lunch,” you admit. 

“Yeah?” He frowns, cupping your face in the basin of his palm. “How’d you fare at work?” 

“I got sick in the bathroom, but then I just finished out the day.” Remus’ frown is starting to look mortifyingly near to a pout. “It wasn’t this bad then, I don’t think. It got worse once I was home.” 

He hums. “Do you know how you caught it?” 

You glance at the toilet, horrified at the sight of your unflushed sick inside. “Some of my coworkers went home sick, but…look, Remus, it was really nice of you to come, but you don’t have to be here.” You say this with your cheek tucked into his palm, soaking up the feeling of his touch. “It’s way too early for you to see me like this.” 

“Oh?” One corner of his mouth twitches, but he keeps his expression curious. “Why’s that?” 

“Because…because.” You try to imbue your tone with some sternness. “It’s the standard progression of things. Peeing together, saying I love you, then you see me when I’m sick.” 

Remus nods, humming pensively. His thumb strokes at your cheek. “You want to pee together before saying I love you? That’s interesting.” 

You feel your face heat, which you didn’t know was even possible at this point. You thought surely you’d maxed out. “I’m serious.” 

“Alright,” he says. Soft, pacifying. “All that notwithstanding, I’m afraid I can’t leave you like this, lovely girl. I’ll avert my eyes if you want me to, but I’m really not too worried about seeing you any way you can be, so I think it might be easier on you if you didn’t worry about it either.” 

You wither. “But I’m gross.” 

He frowns. “You’re not. You’re just not feeling your best right now, and that’s fine. Let me take care of you.” 

You look at him for a few moments, and Remus looks back. His amber stare is steady. Finally, you give in to your more pathetic urges and nod. 

“Alright.” He gives your cheek another tender stroke. “Do you feel like you’re going to be sick again now?” 

“No,” you say meekly. It feels weird to discuss these things with him, but Remus acts like it’s the most normal thing in the world. 

“Perfect. Think you can make it to bed?” 

You definitely can, but Remus still walks you the whole way, one arm around your waist and his attention cautiously on your feet should you stumble. He gets you situated under the covers, forbidding more than one blanket until your fever comes down, and goes back into the bathroom to get the supplies he’d brought with him. 

You hear the toilet flush and cringe, but he comes back out like nothing happened. 

“I wasn’t sure what to bring since you wouldn't tell me what you had on the phone,” there’s a bit of light admonishment to his tone as he sits on the edge of your mattress with a paper bag, “so I brought most of my medicine cabinet. Do you want some anti-nausea, or are you still alright for now?” 

“Yes, please,” you say in a small voice. Remus passes you a cup of water before shaking a pill into his hand. He watches as you take it. 

“You’re going to want to keep taking small sips of that,” he tells you. “It sounds like you’re right and it’s just a stomach bug, so we’ll probably keep you off solid foods for a little while. You just let me know when you’re feeling up to some crackers or something, okay?” 

“Okay,” you echo him. Your heart suddenly feels as warm and tender as if your fever were affecting it, too. You’re enamored with the idea that you could go to sleep, right now, and Remus would still be here to take care of you when you wake up. He’d probably hold your hand if you asked, or read you something, or just sit with you if that was what you wanted. It makes you feel pathetically teary to think of being so cared for. 

Something shifts in Remus’ expression. He looks at you more closely, pushing a piece of hair away from your face. 

“Everything alright, sweetheart?” he asks. 

“Yeah.” You swallow. “Just, thanks for coming.”

Remus smiles. “Changing our minds about the standard progression of things, are we?” But before you get a chance to hide under your covers and never come out, he leans forward, kissing your cheek. “Don’t mention it.”

[gg-neptune]

Late Date

A/N: Okay so lemme rant rq. I just got diagnosed with Fibromyalgia and Chronic Fatigue, right? Now I am getting a flare up from the combination of the new medicines from my messed up genetics. So if I don't post I am sorry. Currently can't move without being in pain. Anyways I hope you enjoyyyy :))))) Trying my best to keep him in character but it's so hard bc like we never see him in this light.

Sum: Sev is late

Pair: Severus x reader

Word: 2.0k

“Class Dismissed,” Snape grumbled to the class. His nose was pinched in between his fingers. Longbottom had melted another one of his cauldrons today. It was a careless mistake that could have been avoided if the young boy had just been paying more attention. Now there was a gooey mess all over his classroom.

As the students filtered out, Snape sighed. His day had been going well. He had been awoken to the sweetest of sounds—the sound of his love telling him it was morning. There was fresh fruit in the great hall for breakfast. All of his classes had gone well, with only a handful of disrespectful students that had shut up when he took house points and threatened detention. He had even been able to actually take his lunch break instead of working through it. Of course, it was his last class. He was going to be late if he didn’t clean this up immediately. Even if he did, would he be able to make it anyway?

"Hey, Hon-oh.”

Snape’s head snapped up at the sound of your voice. You were standing in the doorway to his class room. Your eyes were wide in astonishment at the mess that lay before you. The multicolored goopy liquid had now made its way to the middle of the classroom. 

His dark eyes met yours. He wanted nothing more than to just leave the classroom and deal with this later. He knew he couldn’t; it was against policy. You could have students fight Voldemort and almost die on campus, though that was fine.

“Hey, everything is alright,” Severus asked. His voice was laced with worry. He could tell by your expression that you were curious or worried about something before you had seen the mess in his room.

"Well, I was wondering what you would want me to wear tonight, but now I am guessing it’s off for tonight.” Your sad eyes looked at him. He could tell you were disappointed. Not at him, but just that idea. He knew you had been looking forward to this for weeks now. It had been so long since they had been able to go out. He wanted to treat you tonight. Spend the night with just you. For so long, he knew you both had been craving to not have to worry about anyone else and just worry about each other.

“No, I’ll find a way to get everything taken care of before then; don’t worry about it. Also, wear what you want; you know I love you in anything you wear.” By now, the man had managed to maneuver his way to you. Careful to avoid all of the goo, he pulled you into his arms and sighed. 

“Longbottom melted my cauldron again. But this time I don’t know how because none of the ingredients should have reacted like that. So that means he got the wrong one.” Snape leaned his head on top of yours, mumbling about the carelessness of the boy.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to Sev. You know he’s a bit... spacey at best when he’s in your class. I mean, the poor boy is terrified of you.”

Severus just grumbled in annoyance at that. You were too nice to students. He squeezes you tightly and buries his face in your hair before releasing you.

His eyes raked over you. You were absolutely stunning, even after teaching dunderhead students all day. Your eyes shone with delight. Being held by your dear husband always seemed to have that effect on you, as he noticed. 

“Anything you want me to wear tonight,” he almost grins, teasing you a bit.

“Yes, I want you in a bright pink, tight dress. I will accept no less from you,” you say with a smile, also teasing him before quickly walking off, leaving him with the mess in his room and not being able to respond to your teasing. He grumpily turned back around to face his classroom, glaring at the goo and nursing under his breath.

2 hours later, and it is just now seeming like Scourgify is actually Scourgifying. The majority of the gunk had finally been removed from the floor. What remained of the table Severus had disposed of. While he continued to clean, he came to the conclusion that Neville must have used Bezoar instead of Bat Spleens. Bezoar, when mixed with the rest of the ingredients, creates a reaction. A sticky, messy substance that slowly expands to about 20 times its size. Severus stood back and looked over his floor. This was as good as it was going to get, he decided as he wiped sweat from his forehead. He should have given the boy detention and made him clean up. However, it would have taken him twice, if not three times, as long as it did the professor. If he had been able to do it at all honestly,. 

Snape walked to his office, which was just the next door over, and grabbed his keys. He locked both his classroom and his office doors and cast a spell that would show any student who should even look at them that he was not there and to not even think about trying the door.

Briskly, he walked to his chambers, his long robes billowing behind him, making him resemble a bat. 

Severus’s long legs and tendency to power walk allowed him to reach his chambers pretty quickly. He stepped inside quickly and immediately began to prepare for your guy’s date. Quickly, he stripped down and stepped into the shower, trying to get the grime off of himself. After a quick scrub, he swiftly got dressed in a pair of his nicer-looking robes and finally decided to glance at the time.

Shit. He was late. Really late.

Fastening the last button on his black shirt, he didn’t even bother with putting on the rest of his robes in his rush to get to you. Fumbling with the door, his hands were shaking as he slung it open and took off down the hall, damn near running to Hogsmeade. Hoping and praying that you would still be there. Also hoping and praying a student didn’t see him, though right now this was not a major concern of his. 

He had wanted this night to be perfect for the both of you, and he had already managed to fuck it up somehow. What if you were sitting with another man by now? So mad and disgusted by him, you decided to get the attention you deserved, which he couldn’t give you, from another. He quickly shook that thought from his head as his eyes caught a glimpse of his wedding band. He finally got to the road that led to the little village that you were currently in. Waiting for him.

The man briskly walked, trying to catch his breath; he was not used to running like that. As soon as he got past the magical enchantments that forbade apparition he apparated right outside the Three Broomsticks. For a moment, he stood outside. Trying to catch his breath and calm himself. Smoothing his hands over his shirt and just hoping he looked alright, he entered the little restaurant. He had never been late before. In fact, he was always early, and the man was terrified of how you would react. 

Inside the cozy place, the hostess greeted him politely, asking him if he had a reservation. He already knew where his seat was and where you were supposed to be, so he just ignored the woman and walked in, going straight to the back and looking in the far right corner. The potions master's hands shook with fear. Fear that you will not be there and that he will be greeted with an empty table and an angry wife after he finally locates you.

Fortunately for him, he saw you. Your beautiful face is reading a book in the corner of the booth he had reserved for you. The table was empty, but there were two menus on the table and two waters. From your expression, he could not tell if you were upset or not. Quickly, before you could get upset, he rushed towards you and grabbed your hand as he sat on the same side of the booth as you. Even though you had told him multiple times never to sit on the same side of the booth as each other, he did not care at this moment.

"Dear, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to be late. I was cleaning and it wasn’t coming up and- I promise I didn't forget I am so sorry please what can I do to make it up to you? I am so sorry.” His voice was shaking as he gripped your hand tightly. You were startled by his sudden apology, as you had been engrossed in your book and honestly expected him to be a bit longer. You knew the disastrous attempted potion was going to take him hours to clean up, and since he refused help, he would be late. 

"Severus, it’s fine. I knew you were going to be late. That goop kicked your ass, didn’t it?” you tease him as you take in his appearance. In this moment, as frazzled as he was, he looked rather handsome. His inky black hair was falling in front of his face, and his glossy eyes were filled with tears. His black shirt, which you usually could not see very well because of his robes, framed his body just right. You knew he was terrified you would be mad, but how could you be realistic? It wasn’t like he just blatantly ignored you or was thinking of others.

“You're not mad? I left you waiting here for almost 15 minutes; why are you not mad at me?” He was unbelievably close to you by now. Staring into your eyes, dumbfounded, and looking at your waiting for you to snap at him. Desperately hoping he could make things better. The man had a strong thirst for knowledge, one that he was always trying to fulfill. He did not understand how anyone could love him. How could one feel the same way as he feels? You not being mad at him genuinely puzzled him. Why were you not mad?

“Severus, it’s not like you were just laying in bed blowing me off.”

“But I was late.”

“And you were cleaning up mystery goo, were you not?”

“Yeah, but I was late; you should be mad at me.”

“I’m not, though.”

“But why?” his voice had almost a childlike curiosity in it as he interrogated you as to why you were not mad at him. You stare at him for a moment and think of a response. Should you be mad at the man? He was late, but he had a good reason and was currently on the verge of tears in fear you would be mad at him.

“You apologized to me before I could even realize it was you, and you feel genuinely guilty for it, so even though I was never mad, for your peace of mind, I forgive you. Now go sit on your side and look at the menu. I already know what I want.”

Before he gets up, he wraps his arms around you, enveloping you in his scent. Immediately, you melt against him and wrap around him as well, relishing in him.

“Did you bring the book because you knew I was going to be late?” he whispers in your ear, still sounding a tad guilty. By now, you had completely forgotten about the book and were just focusing on him.

"Partially, but I also think you’ll like it,” you whisper back to him, giving him a squeeze before releasing him and gazing over his face. The tears from his eyes had vanished now, and he seemed to not be as upset.

The man went to the other side of the booth and took his seat. A small smile finally graced his face as he looked at you. 

He clasped his hands in front of him. "Well, go ahead. Tell me all about it.”

You delve into explaining your book to him. He stared longingly into your eyes as you did so. Happy to have such an understanding partner as you.

[mavnagerie]

hi! i never done this before but i saw your requests were open!!

I wanted to request zoro?

basically you were in love with zoro and he knew but he thought you were annoying to him and he rejects you. you grow distant from him mainly and then someone else (your choice, idm!) helps you through it and you start exhibiting the behavior you did with him and he gets jealous or upset? and he realizes he messed up and he wants to win you back? can end any way you want :3

if not, its fine! thank you! ∩^ω^∩

we can’t be friends

* jealousy is a bad habit

roronoa zoro x reader

part 1, part 2

summary: mihawk tells zoro “no girls” and when zoro comes back home to the strawhats, is blinded by the fact that mihawks training trumps how much he misses you.

warnings: straw hat! reader. no smut! slight angst + fluff, past relationship ish (close flirty friendship, possible fwb) brief luffy x reader (x zoro). totally a set up to a poly ship but whatever, what’s new with me. no proof read we die like men.

*authors note: requests are open

your bed was coziest on the early mornings you couldn’t sleep, staring at the window to the room as nami and robin quietly snored in their own beds and you practically shivered as you sat up, getting out of bed and finding yourself freezing from the early morning at sea.

you grabbed a jacket and threw it on before walking out onto the deck. you knew zoro was up for lookout in the past night so you expected to find him somewhere on the deck. you padded around in the cold grass of the sunny while the sun peaked over the horizon. you were shocked robin hadn’t even stirred awake yet.

your thick jacket covered your arms and the fluff of the hood cuddled around your neck. hearing footsteps, the obvious footsteps of the man who’s lookout shift was almost over. heavy and loud from his boots.

“whatre you doing up so early” he asked you with an annoyed look, not wanting to be bothered so early in the morning.

“uh i don’t know.. i woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep” he gave you a once over, watching as the giant jacket held your frame like a warm hug.

“mh” he grunted before walking past you. he had gotten yelled at last time he fell asleep while on lookout so now when he gets super tired he walks around the ship, especially when it’s early in the morning so there’s no reason for him to be in his training room.

“zoro..” you looked at him, following him. he ignored you. he tried to ignore the pink that flushed his cheeks when he saw your in your small pajama set and thinking to himself ‘no wonder you were so cold.’

“what..” he groans, turning around, looming over you.

“nothing. i- i don’t understand the cold shoulder you always give me! we used to be so close before you went to train with mihawk. did i do something?” your words almost stabbed through him like your thoughts had been stabbing through your heart like knives for months.

your words struck a chord with him. a chord he didn’t really know how to handle, something that stirred up anger in him but not anger he wanted to take out on you, although, that didn’t stop him.

“yknow what, princess? if you really wanna know how i feel?? you’re annoying and you always get on my nerves, im tired of you parading around here in your cute little outfits trying to get my attention! i don’t want it. just leave me alone!” he snapped. he snapped at you. you of all people, he snapped at you. his words fell from his mouth like a babbling water fall.

he turns away from you and walks away, leaving you standing there with a shaky hand and a tear in your eye. with a soft sigh you just walk away, no other words to be said as you find your way back into bed, tears landing on your pillow with your jacket scattered on the floor. hours passed while you fell back asleep, but as it reared noon , someone came back into the bedroom looking for you. with all of your heart you hoped it was zoro but as namis soft voice filled your ears you were sorely disappointed.

“hey, y/n…you gotta wake up at some point, sanji is getting worried but we won’t let him come in here..” she lets out a small giggle between words as you feel your bed dip at the end as she sits on it. she gently grabs your leg through the blanket. “you feeling okay?”

you turn to her, tears in your eyes again. nodding your head. she sees your tears and while feeling a little uncomfortable, she leans forward and pulls you into a hug. “you’re not, but that’s okay. cmon get up and get dressed so we can go eat something” she smiles as you pushed your face into her shoulder.

as you pulls away, she stands up and picks out some clothes for you before getting out of the room so you can change. you standup, get undressed and pull the clothes on, watching your self in the mirror. once you pull your shoes on, you step out of the room and are met by a loud luffy and the sound of the strawhats somewhere on the ship.

you walked to the kitchen and found sanji there, waiting for you. “you missed breakfast, my love” he spoke softly, seeing the look on your face. “what’s wrong?”

“i’m fine sanji.. can i just have my food?” he understands immediately and grabs your lunch and breakfast. “do you want one or both? i saved your breakfast so luffy wouldn’t eat it.”

“i just want my lunch. luffy can have my leftovers from breakfast” your smile to him was gentle but he knew something was wrong.

“whatever you want, beautiful girl” he smiles before sitting the plates down. he walks to the door of the kitchen and shouts for luffy and sooner or later you head the bumbling idiot come prancing to the kitchen. sitting down in front of you like an obedient dog.

“hi luffy” you smile at him from across the table, he just stares at you. “what’s wrong?” you ask.

“whats wrong with you?” he tilts his head to the side, seeing you’d been crying with puffy eyes.

“um nothing!” you try to shrug it off but soon he’s slipping under the table and onto the seat next to you, he grabs your face and is staring at it.

“you’re lying to your captain.” he says with a small smile on his face, his rough hands lovingly holding your cheeks.

“mh..” you hum as he wipes your tears away that were stuck in your waterline. “eat your food luffy, im okay” you smile into his hand as he pulls away, reaching over the table to bring his plate closer to him so he could eat sitting next to you. he stuffed his face full, watching you eat your lunch from the corner of his eye. luffy had noticed weird behavior with his crew recently but more specifically with you and zoro.

which hurt him, he was zoros best friend and you were someone special to zoro. the three of you all had been close before running off on your breaks to train and get stronger.

it was almost like you were zoros and zoro shared you with luffy but that bond had broken after zoro trained. although luffy and zoro still got along, luffy had noticed the cold shoulder zoro seemed to always give you now. he knew this had something to do with his green haired swordsman rather than your behavior as you’ve done nothing to change the way you treat zoro.

time passed in the day and while you and luffy hung out on the grass deck, the two of you were practically alone, sitting under the tree laying with each other. this was nothing new, you’d be doing before and after, just missing one person.

you laid with luffy, his arm wrapped around your back while your head rested on his chest. the two of you didn’t have anything engaging to talk about but were talking about stupid things like the shapes the clouds made in the sky. but all you really could think about was how you hadn’t seen zoro since dawn. the two of you had eventually drifted off into a sleep, basking in the sunlight until it fell over the horizon. sleeping almost until dinner call. everyone had walked past the two of you at least once by now, everyone except zoro.

but as dinner was called, who was better to ask to go wake you to up other than zoro??? nami had ordered him to go out and wake yall up, blissfully unaware of the behavior he had shown you before, not knowing this was why you had been sleeping and crying in bed till 12 and sleeping and cuddling with luffy all day.

zoro found himself walking up on the two of you, kicking the bottom of luffys foot, hoping to shake him awake. so it did, and he grumbled about dinner being ready before walking back inside. clearly his mood hadn’t changed up, but seeing you cuddled up onto luffy hadn’t changed his mood for the better.

watching you stir awake, luffy began to stand up, helping you up as well. the night proceeded as usual, dinner being eaten, dishes being washed and nightly activities being enjoyed. the light up in the lookout was on as zoro worked out for the night before patrol and lookout started. tonight was luffys turn, allowing zoro to get a good nights sleep, unbeknownst to him that you’d be sitting in the crows nest talking to luffy almost the entire night… whining about zoro.

you had gotten a little booze in you, just enough to loosen you up about what zoro had said to you and to talk about the way you had been made to feel in the last month or so.

luffy didn’t mind. sometimes he wasn’t a good listener but when it came to you, he liked hearing you talk, so hearing you talk about something he worried about was even more important to him. he hadn’t really noticed the way zoro had suddenly changed until after you explained it to him and suddenly it was all very clear. luffy missed the way you were with him when you and zoro were so close. it was just different.

luffy knew that zoro at one point had feelings for you but he assumed with how little you hung out as a trio these days that those feelings just dwindled but now luffy was just confused.

the night slowly turned into day, though you had fallen asleep a long time ago on the couch of the nest. the moment luffy saw the one of his crewmayes on the deck he was down for the count, asleep right next to you his head finding a cushion on your thighs. the two of you slept soundly until the sound of the crows nest opening filled your ears, causing you to shake awake, looking down to see luffy on your legs, a pool of drool forming on your skin. you fake gagged before looking at the door, seeing zoros head poke through, the two of you staring at each other like a deer in the headlights while luffy was still cluelessly snoring.

“sorry.. i didn’t mean-“ hie cheeks were red, flustered and embarrassed to not only find you here but to see luffy intimately using you for such a mundane thing.

“it’s not what it-“ you sputtered before the door was shut again, the sound of the rope creaking below as he clamored his way back down.

you sighed loudly as you pushed luffy off of you, waking him up. he shook awake and realized it was late in the morning, watching as you put your shoes on to leave the nest. “good morning” he mumbled tiredly.

“good morning luffy” you said, almost sounding discouraged as you opened the door, stepping out of the nest to go down to the deck once more. this day almost felt like a repeat with yesterday, with just a different embarrassing scenario with the big green haired swordsman.

although the day passed awkwardly, you spent time with nami and robin that day, wanting to participate in whatever book reading or tanning either of them were doing rather than involving yourself in whatever the captain and the second in command had formed with you. although you had suspected that luffy was with zoro, talking to him most of the day as you hadn’t spotted zoro napping anywhere at any point in the day.

though as the day turned into night, all of you sat at dinner and chowed down. dinner proceeded as usual and everyone was getting ready to possibly find land tomorrow and dock for a day or two.

it was a late night for most but most of the ship had finished up everything but of course, you were this nights lookout.

the lights above in the crows nest were still on at the time you assumed you needed to begin lookout, knowing zoro was still in the top, working out. you sighed dramatically, knowing the only way to go up there was to confront him or just wait. so you decided to just wait.

standing on the deck near the hull of the ship, you stared off at the ocean, leaning against the railing. it was chilly but you hadn’t expected to stay outside in the wind this long. it felt like an hour had passed that you had been on the deck, just waiting for the swordsman to come down.

you sat there, staring at the ocean cluelessly as a pair of rough hands wrapped around your waist as a warm body pressed against your back. his voice was recognizable, feeling your heart drop to your ass as his face pressed against your cold skin.

“i’m sorry, princess..” he mumbles, his voice muffled by his cheeks smooshed against his face. “i’m sorry for how badly i’d treated you since we got back” he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his fingers rubbing along your stomach. you shuttered against his touch, although his warmth was so comforting.

“i couldn’t stand seeing you all over that straw hat.. i want you to be mine. i need you to be mine.” his voice is so raspy but needy, almost begging for you.

“zoro..” your words were weak, feeling tears prick in your eyes. knowing this was all you had wanted from him in the last two months. for even longer than that. the last two years that you had been without him. you turned yourself around in his arms, finding his face in the darkness. you grabbed his cheeks into your palms, rubbing your thumbs over his skin, feeling his scar underneath the pad of your finger.

“i’m sorry..” he looked defeated. clearly luffy had told him something today that broke him. he saw the tears in your eyes and brought his strong hand up to your face, tenderly wiping them away. “i know what i said hurt you. i didn’t mean it.” he has a small smile on his face, a smile of comfort.

“i know…” your smile was just as forgiving, pulling him in closer. “zoro can i please kiss you..” your face was close to his, your lips practically ghosting over his own. though he could see the way your lidded eyes looked up at him through those thick lashes. he hummed an approval and your lips were suddenly against his.

he pulled you by the waist, bringing you in close to him, his jacket that rested over his shoulders was soft against your arms. his hands found the dip above your ass, holding you close to him as you kissed him once and again and again. you hadn’t kissed him in so long but no other time had any passion or drive to it like this one did. they had all been while drunk, jokingly flirting or in passing without a second thought. they all lingered with emotions deeper than either of you ever thought to process. now leaving you with your tongue pressed against his lips, feeling the roughness of his chapped lips against yours, becoming softer with your exchanged spit.

slowly you pulled away, your eyes meeting his again.

“i love you just like i did two years ago, princess.” his voice was gentle as he pushed his face down into the crook of your neck. he just wanted to love on you like a needy cat.

“i love you too zoro..” your fingers found their way to his hair, gently pulling at the soft strands of mossy green hair. he gently placed kisses up your neck, biting down on the connection from your shoulder to your neck. when a soft moan left your mouth, he almost smirked against your skin. he was claiming you as his, although everyone knew this. sanji knew this.

it’s just taken time to grow back close to each other again, and zoro needed that push away from the behavior mihawk instilled in him for the girl he loved so much.

*authors note: i hope you enjoyed! i will write a part two plus smut for this if yall would like! just make sure to suggest in my inbox :))

[mattitties]

can u plz do a fluff fanfic about the reader being scared of thunder and there's a rlly loud thunder storm so matt has to comfort her? thanks :)

thunder - matt sturniolo

“Really? I love when it storms. I think it’s so peaceful and I can just curl up and watch a movie or something,” Matt tells me. It’s our second date and we’re in the “biggest fears” category, and I told him about my extremely irrational, but very severe, fear of storms. 

“I get that,” I reply. “It’s really not that I’m just scared of storms, my best friend’s house was struck by lightning and caught on fire when we were in high school, so it kind of just set something off in my head. I know it sounds stupid because it didn’t happen to me, but it just started this crazy fear.”

“Oh wow, that’s terrifying. No, I totally get it, it’s not stupid.”

As I sit with my knees tucked to my chest on my bathroom floor, I think back to that conversation from three months ago. It’s the first storm I’ve experienced since I moved to LA, and I’m a mess. My windows are rattling with each clap of thunder, and all I can think about is my roommate at work right now. She enjoys storms, but my anxiety is getting the best of me thinking about everything that could go wrong. 

What if she can’t make it to her car? What if she gets in an accident on the way home? What if I’m stuck here for the rest of the night by myself?

She’s the only person I’ve got here in LA. I had Matt, but then I fucked it all up right on our two month anniversary.

I was so ridiculously busy with work and what felt like 800 pounds of shit piling up in my life that I completely forgot about our anniversary. I stood him up at the dinner that he made reservations for, and subsequently didn’t go to the hockey game that he was going to surprise me with; the hockey game which he got $300 tickets for. 

I apologized profusely and told him I would do anything to make it up to him, and he told me he was just really disappointed and needed some space before we talked again.

He called me a couple days later and I didn’t answer because I was so ashamed and embarrassed I couldn’t even face him. 

He texted me, I never replied. After three days of missed calls and texts, I guess he got the message because he stopped trying.

A week after that, I texted him apologizing for everything and explained my intentions behind my actions.

He didn’t answer. I don’t blame him.

That was three weeks ago, and it’s been radio silence on both ends. I guess we’re really done, but I really, really need him right now.

I turn on the shower to try to drown out some of the noise of the thunder, but nothing is working. I look at the weather app. It shows the same pattern until tomorrow morning.

I’m so fucked. I can barely breathe, my heart is beating out of my chest, and I just want to die. I’ve been texting my roommate to see when she’s returning but she’s busy at work and I’m trying not to annoy her any more than I know I have been, so now I’m just sitting in front of the shower, praying that everything would just stop.

Ten or so minutes pass, and I hear the front door open. Nobody ever comes to our apartment and my roommate always forgets her key, so I just leave it deadbolted when I’m home. I turn off the shower and call out her name to let her know I’m home, but she must not hear me. I pull myself together as much as possible and go out to the living room, but I don’t see the face I expect when I get there.

“Matt?” I whisper. I’m in such shock that nothing else comes out.

He’s absolutely drenched as he stands by the front door with a bottle of lemonade. I love lemonade.

“Hi,” he smiles shyly as he raises the hand holding the bottle. “I, uh, brought you something.”

I have no idea what to say. I opt for, “what are you doing here?”

“Well, I know how much you hate storms, so I thought you could use some company. Also… I just really miss you. And I would like to talk about us. We don’t have to do it tonight, obviously, but–”

“Yes. Yes, we can talk. Tomorrow? We can get breakfast? My treat,” I say, sounding pathetically desperate, but this is all I’ve wanted for the past three weeks.

“Okay,” he says as he takes off his shoes. “Do you happen to still have some of my sweatshirts and sweatpants? I’m kinda…” he says, motioning to the water dripping off of him.

“Yes! In my room, come.” He follows me to my room and I give him his clothes that I’ve worn an embarrassing amount of times since we broke up. “You didn’t have to come tonight,” I tell him. “This is really, just… I don’t deserve this after what I did.”

He waves a hand at me as if to say forget about it. “We’ll talk about that tomorrow. And I did have to come. Because I care about you, and I know you wouldn’t want to be alone tonight.”

I’m about to cry. I really don’t deserve this guy. 

“Let me go change, then we can crack open that lemonade and cuddle and watch something. Sound good?” he asks.

All I can do is nod in response as I watch him smile before he goes to the bathroom. I pour the lemonade into two glasses and set them on the bedside tables. 

When he comes back out and lays on my bed, I just stand there, wondering if he wants me to join him.

“Hello, what are you waiting for? Don’t leave me hangin!”

I smile and lay next to him, feeling more at home than ever when he pulls me into him.

[silverthehedgehogharacteristics]

Silver Characteristics Part 2

Warrior -  fought and struggled for half his lifetime in the hellish Iblis future, constantly fighting against Iblis, monsters and putting out disasters including Flame Tornadoes for most of his life to bring peace to the world. Shadow describes him as a Fighter in Team Sonic Racing. Enjoys Fighting and can be quick to start fights(Fights almost everyone for both in Rivals 1+2 and Infinite in Forces, almost fights Blaze in Colors DS and Otherworld Comedy and Bowser Jr and Jet in the Olympic Games). Extremely Brave(No regard for his own safety, Instant fight response when surprised in Sonic Generations, fought Iblis monsters since he was Cream’s age). Values bravery and dislikes cowardice/cowardly tactics(Rivals 1+2, Colors DS, Team Vector interview). Has high aggression, determined expressions and aggressive body Language during anything he's focused on. Often makes fists, punches things when he’s frustrated and gets up with his fists in Sonic Forces. Due to his backstory he is deeply appreciative of peace and prosperity but also has a violent personality.

Focused - Is Focused on saving the Future(06 design docs). Very serious and focused when it comes to his mission or dealing with potential danger. Very proactive in dealing with things as he was the only one actively trying to defeat Iblis and change the world(06) and the only one trying to find the truth of Dodon Pa and Eggman(TSR). Has a Straight-To-The-Point mindset(doesn't care what the plan is called, only that it works in Forces) and doesn’t like things getting in his way. Very goal focused(even during competitions, he says the Jade Wisp Ghost ability is the only item he likes because it lets him disappear and focus on racing(Team Vector interview)). Takes things much more seriously than Sonic and sometimes gets mad at Sonic for not taking things seriously or messing around(JP TSR, PlayStation Comic). Has pointed angular eyes like Sonic’s other rivals which represent intensity, danger and seriousness in character design.

Can be Ruthless - “sometimes calls forth great power without mercy”(Sonic x Silver). Has fought dirty(Played possum to hit Sonic in 06), tried to assassinate Sonic, snuck past Soleanna guards. Mugs Tails in Sonic Rivals 2, has no qualms with fighting small children like Tails or Bowser Jr. Leaves his enemies to die even if they beg for life. Has the pragmatic “get-it-done” mindset of Future Trunks/will do whatever it takes to save the future.

Intuitive - Solves problems by using his mind in all his major game roles including figuring out how to revive Sonic(06), being a detective(Town Mission 13), uncovering Eggman/Nega’s plots(Rivals 1+2, TSR) and solving various puzzles. Very perceptive(Sees through Eggman Nega’s disguises by noticing small details), turns his fight with Sonic into a race to collect Chao to advance his mission(Crafty). Intuits Blaze trying to control great power when seeing it for the first time(Otherworld Comedy). Not trusting(Didn’t initially believe in time travel, Immediately suspicious of Dodon Pa in TSR, questioned Mephiles’ mission even as Blaze reaffirmed it as their only option, takes time to work with others in the Rivals series).

Challenger - Enjoys challenges and seeks out ways to test himself(Climbed Tokyo Tower, disappointed when Orbot and Cubot don’t pose a challenge). Very Competitive(Almost fights Blaze when they start one-upping each other over who could deal with Orbot and Cubot on their own in Colors DS). Self-confident and has a smug attitude about his abilities but is otherwise pretty humble. Cherishes his friends and strongly believes in/very grateful to those who help him. Regularly trains off screen like Sonic’s other rivals and said to make Steady efforts to improve(Wallpaper Comedy). Bold and undeterred by any threat(“We can take them all on!” when facing Eggman, Knuckles and Rouge in Rivals 2, “I’ll just destroy him everywhere at once” when facing Solaris)

Curiosity - Has a certain curiosity and likes seeing new and different things(“Interesting”).Can praise or call things cool as much as he insults others. Might have a weakness for cute things(Has a soft spot for/plays with Chao in Sonic Rivals 2 and an official PlayStation Magazine comic). 

Skills - Powerful psychic with various super powers(Sonic Runners). Like Sonic’s other rivals he has various skills including car racing, acrobatics, fighting near the level of Shadow, sharp shooting among the best in Soleanna’s 1500 year history. Has been a detective, delivery boy, butler, top ranked ice skater and “genius” skating coach celebrity(He takes offense to being treated like an amateur for a reason). Fly/Skill-type character so he specializes in more technical sports like ice skating and drives a car with high balance(TSR, Team Vector Interview).

Polar Opposite of Eggman Nega(Blaze’s best friend, Pure, Young, Honest, Rude, Empathetic, Impulsive/Reckless, Naive, Practical/Focused, Altruistic, desiring Peace and Happiness and willing to die to protect the world opposed to Eggman Nega being Blaze’s arch enemy, Twisted, Old, Deceitful, Polite, Psychopathic, Calculating, Sophisticated, Petty, Egoistic, desiring Chaos and Destruction and willing to die to destroy the world)

Enhancer-Emitter - Enhancer being someone that is determined and simple, never lies, hides almost nothing, is straightforward in actions and thinking, whose words and actions are often dominated by their feelings and is very focused on their goals. Emitter being someone that is impatient, not detail-oriented and quick to react in a volatile manner but can also calm down and forget easier

Lives in the good future when not helping Sonic in the present the same way Blaze lives in her dimension. Thinks things in Sonic’s time are dated (sometimes, in Sonic Rivals and Colors DS) Often implied/shown to like apples(Ate apple flavored calorie bars in the Iblis Future according to Sonic Pict) and live in Soleanna(He was originally going to be named Venice because he lived there, he may be Italian coded as his counterpart Galahad uses an Italian dagger as a sword). 

[bg-brainrot]

Hugs for a Vampire (Astarion x GN!Reader) - Chapter 13: Before Facing Cazador

Chapter 13: Before Facing Cazador

Each chapter can be read as a standalone hug.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Rogue!Tav)

Genre: Fluffy, Filling in Canon

Rating: Teen

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Act 3, Canon-typical violence, Astarion's coping mechanisms, Astarion's quest, cw: Astarion's trauma

WC: 2.1k words, 13/18 chapters

Summary: Set in Act 3, set prior to facing Cazador (part of the Pale Elf questline). Rogue!Tav and Astarion face some of the his past.

Ao3 | [Hug12][Hug14] | Hugs for a Vampire Masterlist

Your mind is racing, your heart is pounding, and, to be quite honest, you don’t know how to deal with what your lover just said. Name me your new master. We will get our revenge, and you will all live again. The words buzz in your ears, their blatant, painful lie only known to your ears. You’re glad that everyone else remains blissfully asleep, lest they see this farce for themselves. But that does mean this is up to you– you can’t let him do this, not to himself and not to his siblings.

“Have you no heart, Astarion?” you ask, before his siblings can respond to the offer. “You’re asking them to die for you in this ritual.”

Astarion turns to you, a touch of annoyance on his face. “Don’t look at me like that,“ he says, his tone almost accusatory. “With the sweet little ‘disappointed I’m not getting cuddly Astarion’ pout. I can’t take it.”

You try to right your face, but you’re certain the pout is, in fact, present. The disappointment can’t leave your face, especially when you know that he can be better than this. That he’s been better than this. He needn’t feel chained to Cazador in any way, let alone taking his place in this profane ritual. “I don’t need cuddly Astarion right now, I just need you. The real Astarion.”

“I can’t be what you want to see in me,” he says, a desperate, pleading tone to his voice. You’re not sure how to respond to that, as his expression just about tears your heart in two. You want to say that you see him, a man who just wants to pave his own path, a man who has already overcome so much and can overcome so much more– but who are you to say that?

You don’t have the opportunity to respond, because his siblings interject. “‘Die’ in the ritual? Whatsoever are you speaking of? We are going to cheat undeath.” Aurelia says, self assuredly. 

Dropping your eyes from Astarion’s searing crimson gaze, you turn to her. “You’re slaughter-lambs,” you say, refusing to paint the picture any prettier. “Cazador needs your souls for the ritual.”

She doesn’t need to roll her eyes to express her disbelief, but she may as well have. “The master doesn’t need to lie to us,” she says patiently, as if you’re another pretty fool for her master. “He controls us, fully. Why go through the trouble of giving us hope.”

Leon speaks up, understanding dawning on him. “Because it’s more cruel. Shit. We’re doomed.” A moment of silence passes as he processes, but he’s surprisingly business-like as he continues, “Alright, what do you need from us? We’ll help you.”

You don’t get to enjoy the breakthrough though, as they begin to glow red with compulsion, their bodies struggling against some invisible force. It seems like no matter what you’ve managed to say, whatever warning you’ve been able to deliver, a vampire’s bidding will win out.

What follows is an intense few minutes of fighting, but between the two of you, Astarion’s kin don’t stand much of a chance– not even Shadowheart, the lightest sleeper of your party, stirs. It certainly helps that the vampire spawn are not aiming to kill, rather capture and stay alive. You can see clearly how careful Cazador is with his spawn, summoning them back the second they seem to be imperiled. 

Of course, this doesn’t mean your blades don’t find purchase, that blood now litters the floor of the Elfsong Tavern, and that your companions won’t have a plethora of questions in the morning. 

“What a mess,” Astarion says with his usual flippancy, as he shakes off some blood. “Well, at least you’ve met my family now.”

You entertain a brief thought about how this comment might normally be cute. Unfortunately your concern and a building fury take far greater precedence. “I can’t believe you tried lying to them,” you say, unable to hold back your rage any longer. “You would have them die for the Rite to happen?”

“What does it matter? There’s only six of them,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you, as if the equation is basic arithmetic, as if you weren’t just speaking to two of those six a moment ago, witnessing their struggles under Cazador’s thumb firsthand. “And they are vampire spawn.” The comment is added as an offhand comment, but there the answer is– he’s not valuing their lives any higher than his own. He only sees himself as the lucky sod who gets to take advantage of them. 

“You’re a spawn, Astarion,” you say, quietly. “Don’t you have any sympathy for the others in your exact situation?”

His tone changes to something angry, centuries of torment weighing each word. “No one ever looked out for me. No one ever said a kind word to me.” Then, realizing you’re right there with him, he softens, “You’re the only one. Other people don’t have a heart like you. You’re… you.” The shock in his voice tugs at you, as if he’s constantly surprised that you’re still there. He follows it bitterly with, “No one is like that.”

“There are others like me,” you say, a worry creeping in that he may be blind to the love of each and every one of your companions. But you’ve seen him. He talks and jokes with the others, but he never lets this side of him show, not fully. “They will care for you, if you let them.”

Astarion scoffs. “Don’t sell yourself so short.” When you don’t react to his compliment, he continues, “I’m doing this for you too, you know. To make sure that we’re both safe. Forever, for good.”

“I appreciate that,” you begin, treading lightly and aiming to understand his fears. But you can’t help it, sometimes you just want to flick his pointy little ears and jolt some sense into him. “I just want you to know that we can make it through this without completing this ritual, without sacrificing your siblings. We always figure something out, don’t we?”

“Oh, I know we do. Though it’s not always what I envision,” he says, a sigh escaping him. “I just want you to keep an open mind when we reach Cazador, love. That’s all I ask for.”

“Fine, but I only ask the same of you,” you say, pointing a stern finger at him.

He grimaces, but nods, a solemn look on his face. “Very well, as long as we deal with Cazador soon.”

“We can go in the morning,” you assure him. “As long as we finally manage to get some sleep. I swear this inn could do with some better locks.”

“My dear, I don’t think you’re allowed to critique any establishment’s security,” he laughs lightly, cleaning some blood off his hands and preparing to return to bed. “No one is safe from your lockpicks.”

You grin before joining him with soap and sponge. “Quite right. And between the two of us? Cazador can’t hide behind his palace walls for long.”

– 

As it turns out, getting into Cazador’s palace wasn’t the difficult part. Unlocking the inner door was actually quite trivial and his guard dogs fell easily. You don’t truly find yourself facing an impasse until you’ve made it to Cazador’s hideaway, the very depths of Szarr Palace. There, Astarion comes face-to-face with the truth of his last 200 years of life, the meaning behind the endless parade of lovers.

“He’s played us for such fools.” Astartion tilts his head down, an angry and dangerous look in his eyes. Seeing his glare, reading his posture, Karlach and Shadowheart move on ahead, leaving you a moment to yourselves. “Not just seven spawn to placate the devil. Seven spawn and seven thousand souls bound to them in blood. Everyone who ever trusted me to let down their guard… innocents, idiots, and the unlucky.”

“Not that it needs to be said,” you step forward softly, gauging his reaction as you do. “But you didn’t know.”

He doesn’t move, either toward you or away. Instead, he shakes his head, clearing it of the dark cobwebs that have begun to cloud it. “It doesn’t matter. I will need to sacrifice them all if I want to perform the ritual.”

“Or…” you begin, tentatively exploring his mood, probing gently. “You could choose to save them.” You take another step toward him, palms open.

“What’s the point? They’re as good as dead,” he says, frustrated. It feels like you’re losing him, the weight of his sins a suffocating burden he wasn’t accounting for. “I thought they were dead.”

“But they’re not,” you reach for one of his hands, only to find it limp and despondent in your own. You thumb over the back of it, aiming to infuse your own life, warmth into him. “They’re alive, your siblings are still alive, and you can give them all the chance you didn’t receive.”

“If they are unleashed, they will cause incredible carnage. They will be ravenous. They must die. Better they serve a purpose.” He sounds like he’s convincing himself more than you at this point, and you sense the barrier around him is cracking. Another few prods and you may break through.

Despite the pounding of your heart, the worries of pushing a broken man to a precipice he may not be ready for– you steel yourself for your next words. “We’ve narrowly missed each other so often. In another life, you’d have led me here,” you say, plaintive. “Not that pretty clearing in the forest.”

“Gods,” he breathes out in anguish. “I can’t say you’re wrong. I can only say I'm so glad we didn’t meet then. I don’t even want to think what would have happened to you…”

You’ve never been above challenging your lover’s sullen moods, facing his avoidances head on. So you stare him down fiercely when you say, “Don’t you avoid this, Astarion. Face it, like you must face them. You would have killed me.”

And just like that, something in him buckles. All of his blustering blown away in the stark reality of his previous life. “I would have killed you.” Astarion’s shoulders bow, his head turns away from you and it’s all you can do to hold back a fierce, rib-shattering embrace. 

Not yet, you think. You’re not done yet. “And?” you ask. “Would you kill me now?”

“Gods no,” he hisses. “I… I can’t even bring myself to think it.”

“Good, let that be a reminder to you: you’re not under Cazador’s control.” You release his hand to grab both of his shoulders, pinning him down with an intense look. “You choose for yourself, remember?”

Astarion nods at you wordlessly, and you know now’s the right moment. You pull him toward you by the shoulders, avoiding his armor as best you can to wrap him in a smothering hug. He reciprocates slowly, but firmly, his own arms wrapping around you, his hands coming to rest on your shoulder blades.

You hold the position for as long as you can, deeply breathing in the familiar scent of his hair and drowning out the stench of decay, blood, and mildew. It’s clear that neither of you want to let go this time– as though by holding each other you can keep in one piece. 

After some amount of time, you hear whispered in your ear, “Whatever might happen, I just want to say: Thank you.”

Finally drawing away from him, you take a moment to look at him somberly. His words sound so final, it scares you. Placing a single gloved hand on his cheek, you say, “You don’t need to thank me. I’m just here to remind you that you have choices.”

“I know.” He turns his nose toward your hand, placing a single kiss on it before continuing, “But does this real Astarion of yours know that?” You think back to your conversation with his siblings, just last night. It feels like a lifetime ago now.

However long ago it was, you need to make sure he understands what you meant. “Spawn, elf, whoever you think you are. You’re Astarion before any of that, and I just need you to know that.”

As he takes in your words, his face hardens, he turns away from your hand in a gentle rebuke. You’ve tried your best, but know his mind won't be swayed by you, not now. “Maybe I don’t know who that is. Maybe that man doesn’t exist, never existed outside these palace walls.” He steps away, and a part of you leaves with him. “I suppose there’s only one way to find out.”

You nod tersely– the only way out is through now– and you follow him deeper into the bowels of Cazador's lair.

[devotion-that-corrupts]

Some rambles on the ending and the codependent nature of Constantin and De Sardet's relationships. Spoilers for the whole game under the cut.

When I played Greedfall for the first time, I couldn’t stop thinking about Constantin’s corruption arc. It didn’t really make sense to me. Why would he want absolute power over the island? He has plenty of power and probably lives quite a luxurious life already. He also says he finds politics boring if De Sardet asks him, so the desire to rule over the whole island full of people seemed to me very out of character.

I do understand that he went mad and everything, but my brain deemed it a boring explanation and kept searching for something more logical.

So here: I think his actions make more sense if they're driven not by greed but by jealousy, less hunger for power and more hunger for absolute love (either platonic or romantic).

Let me explain.

His family is all kinds of messed up. He thinks his father doesn’t care about him, and although we don’t know if he’s actually abusive, I can’t think of any good reason why Constantin would lie about this. His mother, if DLC is to be believed, is responsible for the death of his brother Laurent — Constantin being an heir is clearly more important to her than his wellbeing & mental health after the literal murder of his brother. We don’t know much about Laurent and Constantin’s relationship (although he doesn’t ever mention him & he says nobody cared for him but De Sardet, so maybe it wasn’t good? Maybe Laurent was better suited for politics? That would explain Prince d’Orsay’s disappointment. That’s just my theory though).

Anyway, what I’m saying is that a child needs unconditional love, and judging by this family and Constantin’s line “You've always been the only one to care for me. Our friendship is the only thing that matters to me”, he has only ever received love from De Sardet, which sounds like quite a fertile ground for unhealthy overly attached relationship.

Then the game starts, and the thing is… Well, they are not each other’s everything anymore. De Sardet goes to various cities & talks to every person imaginable & makes new friends, maybe even falls in love. Constantin meanwhile is chained to a palace, especially after his sickness is revealed. De Sardet's world grows beyond him, and he can’t follow them there.

So what do you do when the only person who matters to you grows apart from you? What do you do when you are driven mad with pain and may die alone, and they have to leave you?

Naturally, you find a way to bind them to you for all eternity, and in doing so alienate them from everyone but you. Constantin's smart enough to realize that if De Sardet's friends and allies fought against him, they would turn away if De Sardet joined him. But even if they wouldn't, they're mortal. Their death is inevitable. The only one who can keep De Sardet company for eternity is Constantin. Everyone but him will eventually leave.

That’s why “For you, for us”, that’s why “together, forever”. Not power over the island or some people, but power to keep the only person who loves him unconditionally close to him.

(Again, I acknowledge that this is extremely, extremely unhealthy. That’s exactly what makes their relationship so interesting.)

Anyway, as I said, it feels very in character for him to basically give up on humanity in favor of De Sardet. I can't look at him in the beginning or in the middle and say, “This character would do anything for power”. But I can look at him at any point of the game, any cutscene, and say, “This character would do anything for his loved one”.

[riverkaterina]

Today I bring to youuuu 🥁🥁🥁🥁

KOTW INCORRECT QUOTES!!

Wrath x Emilia edition, more coming in the future (envy x Camilla and just general character ones)

Emilia: Why can’t we all just get along?

Wrath: Because most of us are assholes, Emilia.

Wrath: I think we should kiss.

Emilia: And I think you should die but we don’t always get what we want.

Wrath: Okay, but what if we went to dinner not as friends this time?

Emilia: AS ENEMIES?!

Wrath: ...

Wrath: You are the love of my life and I would do anything within reason to make you happy.

Emilia: I would be happy if you ate, stayed hydrated and got a reasonable amount of sleep.

Wrath: I said within reason, Emilia. How about I murder that guy?

Emilia: So murder is in reason but proper self care isn't?

Wrath: Well, duh. What kind of question is that?

Emilia: Wrath and I are no longer dating.

Wrath: Emilia, that’s a horrible way of telling people we’re married.

Wrath: What makes a bigger memory than a passionate kiss?

Wrath: A stab wound.

Emilia: Let's just agree to both say we're sorry on the count of three.

Emilia: One... two... three.

Wrath: ...

Emilia: ...

Emilia: See, now I'm just disappointed in both of us.

Cop: Can you describe the person who stabbed you?

Wrath: Lithe, spirited, outgoing, and not afraid to speak her mind. She was a raw sexual force and she knew it. She was a dandelion fluff on a summer day, gone in an instant, leaving you with nothing but a memory of her touch and the faint taste of strawberries on your lips.

Cop: …Great, we have a motive, but we still need a description.

Emilia: We all have our demons.

Emilia, grabbing Wrath: This one’s mine.

Wrath, admiring a sleeping Emilia: You’re so cute.

Emilia, sleepily: I could beat your ass.

Wrath, lovingly: I know.

Wrath: This is a very powerful artifact. You’d be messing with some forces we don’t fully understand.

Emilia: That sounds like a dare to me.

Wrath: Oh my god.

Wrath: I could kill you if I wanted.

Emilia: Yeah? So could any other human being. So could a dog. So could a dedicated duck. You aren't special.

Emilia: Wrath, we tried things your way.

Wrath: No, we didn't.

Emilia: I did it in my head and it didn't work.

Emilia: Why are you burning our marriage certificate!?

Wrath: Good luck trying to return me without a receipt.

Wrath: *casually taking four stairs at a time*

Emilia, falling behind, taking two stairs at a time: Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fu-

Emilia: Snow got me feeling some type of way.

Wrath: That's hypothermia.

Emilia: Damn, the paramedics told me it was the magic of Christmas.

Wrath and Emilia: I am so horny and angry all the time.

Emilia: Hi.

Fauna: Hey, did you do what I said? Did you tell him?

Emilia: I did.

Fauna: And what did he say?

Emilia: “Thank you.”

Fauna: You’re totally welcome. What’d he say?

Emilia: he said, “Thank you.” I said “I love you” and Wrath said, “Thank you.”

Emilia: You’re alive.

Wrath: No need to sound so disappointed. (This one is kind of cheating bc in the first book literally "I thought you were dead" "sorry to disappoint you, witch.")

Emilia: My hands are cold.

Wrath: Here, let me hold them.

Emilia: My lips are cold too.

Wrath: *covers Emilia's mouth with his hand*

Wrath: *Turns on the kitchen light*

Emilia: *Sitting at the table, eating bread*

Wrath: It’s four in the morning.

Emilia: Turn the light back off.

Wrath: It's pretty cold outside.. wanna hold hands? We should stay close.

Emilia blushing: Okay.

Vittoria: It's fucking summer.

Emilia: Ugh, crushes are so dumb.

Wrath: I know. Whenever I’m near the person I like I just start acting stupid.

Emilia: But you’re always acting stupid?

Wrath: ...

Wrath: Yeah, don’t think about that too hard.

Emilia: Go to hell!

Wrath: Oh! I’ve been there, thank you. I found it quite lovely.

Wrath: Punch me in the face.

Emilia: ...Punch you?

Wrath: Yes, punch me, didn’t you hear me?

Emilia: I always hear ‘punch me in the face’ while you’re speaking but it’s usually just subtext.

Wrath: I love you

Emilia: how many people have you said that to?

Wrath: everyone

Emilia: what?

Wrath: I told everyone that I love you

[lovetgr76]

Catherine & Jackson

They’re not a couple, but they kind of are… here’s how… or why… maybe… Starting from S1e1 - written for a friend to show how this show is NOT about Catherine and Jackson... but also, it's TOTALLY about Catherine and Jackson! lol - feel free to chime in with thoughts, feelings, etc.

S1e1 Failure is Contagious

First time we see Jackson, he’s waking up, it’s a mess, he’s coughing and smoking at the same time, he looks outside, gloomy, raining, but wait… his eyes are caught by something, and he follows …

Catherine is seen crossing the street, in her boots and coat and purse strapped across her chest, with the floral print umbrella.

Standish, make her way up the street, clocks Moody at the bus stop, makes her way up the 4 floors at Aldersgate and is unseen/ignored by all of the other Slow Horses.  She gets to her office, turns on the light, puts away her things and 3 seconds later…. “STANDISH!” lol – she’s been noticed!

She is seen making her way to his office with a stack of folders but stands at the doorway to his office and doesn’t speak until she is spoken to –

Are they all in? – Lamb; All except River and Sid – Standish; Last one in can clean my lav - Lamb

*banging happens as someone is opening the door downstairs*

Standish and Lamb look disappointed in the slow horses in general for a moment.

I thought spooks were supposed to be stealthy – Lamb

Catherine grants him a tiny smile as she turns to go back towards her office.

Other Slow Horses comments and interactions w/ Standish

River – makes the “a reason not to blow my brains out!” comment

Struan – that Catherine is a tough nut to crack

Min – She never lightens up. Lamb’s lackey.

Louisa – talks about … what happened before (aka Partner)

Sid arrives with the laptop – aka SOMETHING happens at Slough House and …

“STANDISH! Flash Box!” – Lamb

Standish brings the Flash Box, stands silently, assists in getting it open…

“I’ve got a call to make, so if the pair of you wouldn’t mind, you know, fucking off” – Lamb

To Standish – Get me Lady Di.

Jackson is sleeping (or is he?) with his feet on the desk & Catherine (with coat and scarf on, as if ready to leave for the day) comes in to put a stack of folders on his desk.

She moves another folder to make room for the stack, putting them carefully on the edge of his desk.

Lamb kicks them over, on purpose, without reason… other than his… amusement? Into the trash can next to his desk and onto the floor as he leans back and sighs while watching her

What did your last servant die of? – Standish

Interesting that she calls herself servant, instead of secretary or personal assistant.

She immediately kneels to pick up the folders.

What did your last boss die of? – Lamb

He puts his feet back on the floor and reaches into a drawer to pull out TWO glasses and a bottle.

Because Standish is kneeling, this is at eye level for her and she hears the clinking of glass, trying to keep her head down.

She clearly sees Lamb pulling out TWO glasses, while gathering the folders in her arms, but is seen looking up at him, and then back down to the floor, then at the glasses being filled… as the moody music starts to play – this is dangerous territory, even if we don’t know it yet.

Standish puts the stack back on the corner of his desk and stands up while staring at the two glasses… she glances at Lamb, but goes back to staring at the booze. Dark music continues to suggest the seriousness of the moment.

Standish standing straight is seen as trying to calm her own desires as we see her shoulders go from tense and tight to her seemingly sighing and becoming resolved… as Lamb moves a glass of whiskey directly in front of her, taking a deep breath himself, in direct contrast to her own breathing.

Wanted to add that this particular moment has been brought up to the actors in interviews where Gary Oldman was asked WHY Lamb would offer Standish a drink knowing she’s an alcoholic.  Oldman stated that he sincerely believed Lamb was a bit jealous of her, her ability to say no, her resolve.  He, Lamb, would not or could not say no to whiskey and he admires / appreciates that she won’t… no matter how he tries to needle her – to anger her – to provoke her – and then to offer her – her preferred poison… his preferred poison!

Standish glares at him for a moment shaking her head “NO”… she will NOT drink today, and walks off as he’s already finishing his own drink.

Lamb finishes his drink in one gulp as Standish walks out and he’s left alone looking down at her offered drink, gulping that one down as well.

Next time we see Standish, she’s at her AA meeting.  She is not speaking, just listening, but we see her struggling a bit emotionally.  She is remembering finding Charles Partner’s, her ex-boss…

She is seen with flowers, she’s younger (hair color is darker?!) – she’s got makeup on – she wears no makeup now – her skirts are a bit shorter, her neckline a bit lower – she’s smiling and looks beautiful as she calls out for Charles. She finds him, though, we only see clues – he’s got Opera music playing, he’s in the bath, there’s blood dripping outside of the bath, and she sees him, she gasps and covers her mouth in shock. Music is intense and dramatic, this is traumatic.

Catherine is called out in her AA meeting, asked if she wants to speak. 

My name is Catherine and I’m an alcoholic. I’ll just listen tonight. – Standish.

Slow Horses are gathered in Roddy’s office watching the latest news about the hostage situation when Lamb is seen walking in from the stairs. Lamb says explaining the situation to them is like explaining Norway to a dog, and demands that they all go back to shuffling papers.

[luce-speaks]

kliff and the friends

last minute submission for day two of @fe-aspec-week 2024!! this one is a little thrown together because i had an idea at the last minute but! here goes!!

—

Kliff has never been particularly fond of other people.

He used to think he just got unlucky, stuck in a tiny village where no one understood the concept of personal space. He dreamed of the day he’d escape them, get out, go anywhere but here, and meet people who were actually decent.

Then he started going to school in the next town over, and with each new person he met, that dream died in front of him. Each and every one of them—over-familiar like Gray, clumsy like Tobin, naive like Alm, or disgustingly romantic like Faye. He hated it. He came back to Ram Village with a disappointed letter from his teacher and a new will to tolerate these idiots so he could safely ignore the rest. He might not fit in, but at least they know him well enough to leave him alone while he’s reading.

—

The war comes on suddenly, like a storm rolling in overnight, and things change. Kliff learns what fire spells can do to a human being, and Gray stops joking about hitting Tobin with his sword, and Faye picks up a lance for the first time, insisting she’ll do whatever it takes to protect her friends. Tolerable acquaintances become battle-allies, people you can trust to have your back. People who could die beside you, any day. There’s no room out here for petty bickering, but sometimes it also feels like there’s no room to get attached. When the war is over, Kliff thinks, they’ll go their separate ways. He probably won’t even miss them.

—

Tobin flags him down at camp one day. “Hey, Kliff!”

He rolls his eyes. “Tobin. I thought you knew not to interrupt me while I’m studying.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I have questions about magic! That counts as study time, right?”

Now Kliff is intrigued, though he refuses to give Tobin the satisfaction. “Since when do you care about magic? I thought it was too complicated for you.”

Tobin settles beside him, keeping a safe distance, but not bothering to ask whether he minds the company. “Well, I don’t really get it. But I want to learn. You know—for the war.”

He sighs. “I don’t know what Alm or Gray did this time, but you’re better with a bow than you’re ever going to be with magic. Focus on getting better at that.”

“Healing magic,” Tobin corrects. “I want to learn healing.”

“What? Why?”

“C’mon, seriously? I’m worried about you guys! I want us to go back to Ram when this is all over—all of us, together. Even if we’re not all planning to stay.”

“…All right, then. I can try to teach you.” Kliff grins. “Though I wouldn’t count on your ability to learn it.”

—

Faye catches him off guard in the middle of an overcrowded mess hall. She’s saying something, but he can’t understand her over the din of too many hungry soldiers. Eventually, she gives up and beckons to the door.

Kliff follows her, plate in hand, out to the cool night air. “What was that for?”

She shrugs. “You looked like you wanted to go outside.”

“I—” He pauses. Mess hall never used to bother him more than any other time around camp, but now that they’ve been getting more recruits, it has been getting louder and louder. He’s never liked loud noises, either. “I guess I did.”

Faye walks a little farther away from the tent, towards the woods. He follows her, and they settle together at the forest’s edge—still in earshot of the camp, but safely away from the clamor of the mess hall.

“I miss Ram,” Faye says quietly, after they’ve been eating for a bit. “Seeing this many people in one place reminds me how far we are from home.”

Kliff snorts. “It just reminds me of school. They always crammed too many people into the common areas for lunch.”

“So you didn’t like leaving then, either?”

“I liked going to school,” he answers. “I didn’t like the people there.”

“What kind of people do you like?”

He thinks on this. “The quiet kind.”

Faye smiles and nods. They eat the rest of their meal in silence.

—

Gray looks out for him during fights.

At first he’s convinced Gray is just showing off, jumping in dramatically and kicking down a mage in mid-chant before they can fire another spell at Kliff. But then it happens a second time, and a third time, and Kliff is more than certain that it’s intentional.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Kliff says, the next time Gray takes a blow for him.

“Do what?” Gray asks. “Look super cool while I’m saving the day?”

Kliff regrets that Gray is too focused on the battle to see him roll his eyes. “Protect me. I can look out for myself.”

“Oh, that? I’m just practicing for next time one of the girls needs saving.” Gray pauses to skewer another incoming mage. “Gotta keep my skills sharp and all that!”

“Gray, I’m serious. Can you stop joking around?” Kliff fires off another spell, stopping an approaching cavalier in their tracks. Now there are no more distractions—Gray will have to talk to him.

Gray turns to face him. “Look, I know you can take it, okay? But that’s not your job. If you’re up in the front lines taking hits, you won’t have the energy to cast your spells. So you do your job, and I’ll do mine, yeah?”

He sighs. “Fine.”

“Great! Now how about a ‘thank you’ for saving your ass?”

“In your dreams.”

—

Alm brings him a book from town.

“Here,” he says, unloading it off a pile of rations and weapons. “They had this on sale at one of the booths. I thought you might get some use out of it.”

Kliff inspects it. It’s a neatly-bound red tome, with gold embossing on the front. It looks well-used, but it’s holding together nevertheless. He flips it open, skimming the table of contents, and frowns.

“I hate to break it to you, but this is a book on magical theory. It’s not going to teach me anything I don’t already know about battle casting.”

Alm looks a little offended. “I know,” he says. “I just figured you would like it. You liked learning about magic at school, didn’t you?”

“I did, but—” He frowns again, turning the book over anxiously in his hands. “We’re in the middle of a war. Did you spend army funds on this?”

“Don’t worry, I spent my own money on it. No funds wasted.”

“But—” Kliff stammers. “Why? What’s the point? What do you get out of this?”

Alm sighs. “It’s just a gift. We may be at war, but we’re still people. I want you guys to be happy—at least, when we’re not having to kill people.”

“Oh,” Kliff says. “Uh. Thanks.”

Alm smiles, bright as ever. “Any time.”

—

The war continues, and Kliff keeps dreaming about the places he’ll go once he’s free to travel as he pleases. He’s not sure what kind of people he’ll meet out there, but—he thinks—if they’re anything like the ones he met in Ram Village, he hasn’t got anything to worry about. Other people may be unpleasant—clumsy, naive, romantic, and over-familiar—but they’re still worth knowing, every once in a while.

[mysticstarlightduck]

Incorrect Quotes Tag Game!

Thank you for tagging me @rickie-the-storyteller (here)! I really like tags like this and haven't done one in quite a while! So let's go! (I'll go with the cast of Supernova Initiative for this one)

Rules: use this incorrect quotes generator to come up with incorrect quotes for your OCs!

(It is scary how accurate these got OMG lmao)

Gabi: Hey, aren’t you Jack Tithus? The most famous thief in the galaxy? Jack (narrows his eyes suspiciously): You a cop? Gabi: No. Jack (smirks proudly): Then yes, I am.

Deimos: I’m a multitasker! Also Deimos: I can disappoint fifteen people at once.

Artemis, acting tough: You guys don't want to mess with me. Cassiopeia: Yeah, Artemis will straight-up cry in public. Don't try him. Artemis: Exactly, I will straight-up - (Realizes) Cassiopeia (smug as all heck): Artemis, already tearing up: Cassie, why would you say that?!

Pax: Anybody got any crayons so I can color in my Ph. D.?

Deimos (ten years ago, babysitting Cassie for Jack): OKAY, YOU KNOW WHAT?! TIME OUT! GET ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE! GET UP THERE! (Kid) Cassiopeia: *Climbing* THIS HOUSE IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE!!!

Meridian: I'm hot, I’m tall, I'm gay, and I'm on my theatre kid arc.

Vesper: Hey, Aleks, where are you going? Aleks: Well, it depends. When I die, probably hell. Aleks: But right now I’m going to get some fries.

Lyorna, looking at Jack: Okay, so I need to become a therapist faster.

Cassiopeia: Hey, are you okay? Jack: Yeah. Cassiopeia: 'Yeah.' You don't look okay... Jack (jokingly, about to change the subject so fast): Well, then stop looking.

Pax: I just got the best idea I've ever had in my entire life! *Later* Ethean, to Pax, disappointed and a bit impressed: That was the worst idea you’ve ever had in your entire life.

Jack: So, company is coming, I want this place looking like Disney On Ice in one minute! (frantically organizing the chaos) Cassie, if you haven't made your bed already, throw it away - it's too late to make it now! Get rid of the couches, guys, we can't let people know we sit!! The chairs need to be pushed in, there can't be any sign of living in this house - (On the verge of a mental breakdown, continues rambling)

The entire crew: (done with life)

Deimos: Vesper, is that... my mug you’re drinking out of? Vesper: No, it’s mine. Deimos: It... looks just like the one I have... Vesper (holding the mug like a gremlin): You don’t have one like this anymore.

The Director: I’ve been described as a ‘heartless villain’ and a 'sadistic bastard’, but I prefer… 'has alternative ways of having fun’.

Deimos, playing a video game: This game is so frustrating! I hate it, I hate it, I hate it! Jack: OK... then I think it’s time to turn off the game for a little while. Deimos (with the manic energy of someone who chugged three bottles of energetics at once, utterly disheveled): BUT I'M HAVING FUN!

Aleks: You... you saved me. You're not a bad guy at all. YOU'RE A HERO, AN UGLY UGLY UGLY HERO! Noctus: Call me ugly again, and maybe I will eat you.

Jack: Just wondering, did you get any sleep? Artemis: Did I get any... leap? Jack (hella confused): A what now...?

Ethean: I'm trying to juggle family life and work life but I can't seem to find a balance. What do you suggest I do to keep everyone happy? Noctus (deadpan): Quit your job, kill your family. Seriously, I can't stand Pax any moment longer-

Vesper: Your problem is that you’ve got no common sense. Aleks: No, I’ve got plenty of common sense! Aleks: I just choose to ignore it.

Deimos: Did you miss me while I was gone? Cassiopeia (being a little shit with a grudge): Oh, you were gone? Wow. Didn't even notice.

Cassiopeia (at 2AM in the morning): I wish I could control wasps and bees to sting my enemies. Jack (who just wants to sleep): You’re too young to have enemies. Cassiopeia: You don’t even know.

Deimos: Hi- Vesper: Leave before there's a terrible misunderstanding between my foot and your ass.

Aleks: Do I sound smart, or am I smart? Noctus: You sound unbearable, to be perfectly honest.

Deimos: Fine! I don't give a shit! Jack: You seem to give a lot of shit for someone who claims not to give a shit.

Noctus: Pick a card, any card. Jack (smirks): Fine. Noctus: Wait, that's my credit card! Jack, already running away, looking over his shoulder: You said any card.

Deimos: And I’d love to be sorry for that, but we all know I’ve done much, much worse.

Pax: O darling brother, you love me, right? Ethean (suspicious): Normally I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere I won’t like.

Noctus (panicked): This should be illegal! Pax (having the time of his life): It is!!!!!!

Cassiopeia: But that’s censorship. Noctus: Well done. You are correct. You’re being censored. Now go away.

Jack, to Cassiopeia: I'm leaving for the weekend, so I hid 100 units in your room for food. Clean your room, and you will find it.

Meridian, putting their hands over Vesper's eyes: Guess who! Vesper: It's either Meridian or the cold, clammy hands of death. Meridian, putting their hands away: It's me! Vesper: Dammit.

Jack: Deimos likes to say ‘you can be part of the problem or part of the solution,’ but I happen to believe you can be both.

Jack: *dangling from a rope over a pit of fire* Remember when I said I’d tell you when we’re in too deep? Cassiopeia: *also dangling from a rope over a pit of fire* Yes? Jack: ...We’re in too deep.

Artemis, sniffling: Calm down, I’m probably not sick. It might just be allergies. Meridian: Okay, tell me this: are you like, really tired? Artemis: I have depression, robot-man, what do you think?

Aleks: I don’t care what anyone thinks about me. Vesper: Ok. Aleks: Wait, why such a muted reaction? Did that not sound cool?

Noctus (lying through his teeth, cause he actually does care): I just wanted to say that over the years, I have come to regard you as… people I met.

Aleks, throwing a pokeball at Deimos: Deimos, I choose you! Deimos, not looking up from his book and catching it: You need an Ultra ball to catch this Legendary Pokémon.

Meridian: Are you tall enough to play basketball though? Gabi: Are you calling me short? Meridian: No, I'm calling you vertically challenged.

Pax: You need to be more careful! Ethean who was dragged into Pax's issue (and lost his entire career because of it): Careful? CAREFUL?! I'LL CAREFULLY WRAP MY HANDS AROUND YOUR THROAT-

Deimos: You know, I used to play back in my gory days. Artemis: ... You mean glory days? Deimos: Ah, that too.

Artemis: SSSHIT- I BURNT MY LIP- Cassiopeia: ...Why the fuck would you even drink coffee with a METAL STRAW in the FIRST PLACE?? Artemis: BECAUSE WE WERE OUT OF THE PLASTIC ONES!

The Director: I was born for politics. I have great hair and I love lying.

Jack: And what did we learn, Vesper? Vesper, begrudgingly: Tackling someone isn’t the correct response to being asked a simple question.

Ethean: What happened?! Pax: Do you want the long version or the short version? Ethean: Sh-short?? Pax: Shit's fucked. Ethean, facepalming:: Okay, long. Pax: Shit's very fucked.

Jack, opening a bottle of Hot Chocolate: Guess I'll drink my sorrows away.

Cassiopeia: *aggressively throws a pencil at Deimos* Deimos, deadpan: Oh no. I’ve been stabbed. I’ve been impaled.

Kaelus (Lyorna's Dad): Don’t worry, I have a permit. The Junction: ...This just says “I can do what I want”.

Kaelus: Exactly. NOW GET OUT OF MY FUCKING PLANET -

Tagging (gently): @sleepy-night-child, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @oh-no-another-idea, @littleladymab,

@winterandwords, @cowboybrunch, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling

@agirlandherquill, @anoelleart

@leave-her-a-tome, @writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @cakeinthevoid

@lassiesandiego, @thepeculiarbird, @clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams and OPEN TAG

[cerealforkart]

Dungeons and Daddies the Manga Lesson 19: Pop Punk

Read right to left

[first] [prev] [next]

[masterpost]

Transcript under the cut

Transcript reading guide / key

[xxxx] =  identifier of text source

- =  break between panels

(xxxxx) = text outside of normal speech bubble

Disappointed Faces of Your Peers (Page 73)

[Link]: How do we get goth like you, Scary?

[Scary]: All you need to do to be a good goth girl,

(or boy ig)

Is take all the love you have for yourself and throw it out.

-

[Effect]: BANG!

[Link]: Okay, I’m going to try and visualizing this and put all the love I have for myself into a fingernail…

[Terry Jr]: What the fuck! 

They could hear that!

[Link]: Whatever man…

-

[Normal]: I’m writing down everything I love about myself,

and I’m putting it behind this dumpster. 

[Link]: That’s pretty lame…

[Normal]: Well, you suck. 

-

[Taylor]: I will take all the love I have for myself– the abundance of it- and channel it into 

Kaguya Shinomiya

So, my love for her is just double now. 

One Day, I’ll Leave You a Phantom (Page 74)

[Terry Jr.]: Hey, I need to tell you something. 

[Scary]: (Sigh)

What?

[TJ]: I don’t think I make it out of this part.

[Scary]: … What?

[TJ]: There was an item in D.A.D.D.I.E.S. HQ…

-

[TJ]: The Die Another Day.

I rolled it and I aw the Black Parade, 

and I saw you, holding the tape measure. 

-

[TJ]:Something hits me in the head. 

I go down. 

-

[TJ]: I just want you to know so it doesn’t freak you out.

[Scary]: No! I mean- I- I don’t care. 

[TJ]: Right. I’ve left Veronica a letter…back home..

[Scary]: Well, she’s gonna be pretty cheesed with just a letter!

So maybe you should…

Stick around…

So Paint It Black and Take it Back (Page 75)

[Effect]: Flip!

[Hermie]: Forward five steps. 

[Effect]: STOMP!

Oof!

-

[Effect]: Hhhhh…

SHHH

[Scene]: Silence

-

-

Give a Cheer For All The Broken (Page 76)

[Taylor]: (understood!)

-

[Combat box]: Thaumaturgy

[Scary]: This is original. Just wrote it. 

It’s called… Wiser

-

 [Poem, Scary]: The world breaks down into two veils.

One sits heavy on me,

drenched in thorns,

the other with knowledge,

thus impales me,

like a bitter devil with one horn.

The world breaks you down and then you die,

leaving nothing but the mess you’ve made.

Follow me to break the tie,

embrace the nothingness of the Black Parade.  

Everything sucks and no marching band

can give the truth.

Like my poetry now. 

I have no wisdom,

No fucking plan.

That makes me wiser.

Don’t ask me how. 

The end. 

-

[Dice roll, Scary]: Intimidation 23

[Effect]: Murmur

Murmur

Murmur

[Combat box]: Vibe Damage, The Mood, - A Lot 

Transcript provided by @confusedfoam

[weaper-reaper]

Eventuality Pt.7

Final Part 1, 2, 3+4, 5, 6

CW: Smut, Fluff, Angst, belly bulge, creampie, dirty talk, cunnilings, size kink, other dirty nsfw shit im sure. WC~3500

We stumbled back into the barracks away from the cold density of the night behind us. Emotions strung, frayed to the tips of our nerves. Electric shocks pricked up my back where Konig’s body pressed up into mine, urging me quicker down the hallway- his long legs unused to traveling at such a slow and torturous pace. A new kind of nervousness settled itself sharply between the joints of my ribcage as we crossed over the threshold to the front room of the small building. Something was off. 

Cedar and tobacco wafted through the hallways, it singed the inside of my nose and invaded the dry itchy depths of my throat. It wasn’t the anxious anticipation that pulled me away from Konig- it was Price. He sprung a hand out of whatever hole he hid in and jerked me by the bicep into his small office room. Konig dangerous entirety filled the frame of the doorway out behind us and blocked any light or peering eyes from seeping through. If he wasn’t his superior- I shuddered to think how he might have reacted. 

“Woah wha-“ I yelped in surprise before being tossed into a foldout chair. 

“Wait here.” Price's gruff voice held no real room for argument, so with a wary glance back over to Konig I shut my mouth. 

Smacking a hand over Königs broad shoulder, he ushered the two of them back out into the hallway, door creaking shut behind them. My thoughts raced, had someone seen us just now? ‘That’s it’ I decided, ‘Price is going to disband my practice and then murder me so I don’t retaliate.’ 

But he was back in the room within the minute, alone. I kept stealing glances back into the hallway thinking Konig was going to round his way back in. He didn’t. 

“What’s this all about, Price?” I asked, sitting up straighter in the chair and trying to seem as innocent and unlikely as possible. ‘No I definitely wasn’t just sucking one of your team members off behind the cafeteria.. don’t believe everything Soap says.’

“How’d you like a promotion?” 

It caught me off guard, my mouth hung a little agape and I squinted my eyes to see if he was lying or if it was some joke I didn’t quite get. 

“This isn’t home base, you know.” He began, as if that cleared anything up and leaned a shoulder against the wall in front of me. The cigar hung loosely between his lips, and the smoke made the room- and my eyes, go hazy. 

“I thought you didn’t want me out on the field?” I questioned, testing the waters of where our relationship stood. Last we really talked, he’d sounded disappointed in me for almost screwing the whole mission up. Which wasn’t really a surprise, seeing how Soap getting shot was completely my fault after all . 

“You do good work,” he complimented. Okay there was the surprise. “And you wouldn’t be out on the field anyway, but you’re the only one who knows my men. You’re good with them.” He said with full confidence as if I really was. 

I sat back a bit, strangely dejected by the offer. Besides a small handful- like a really really small handful, I hadn’t even made much of an effort to have a relationship with any of the others from 141. Besides Konig, Soap was the only one I had become relitivly close with, save for what some of his more stupid antics might suggest. I suppose Ghost’s warmed up to me as much as he was capable of- though I blame that on his gratefulness for patching up his previously mentioned partner. 

Then it made sense to me. Price didn’t have anyone else to ask. 

The last standby-medic seemed to have left things in such a hurry and half-done state, who knows what really happened to them? And because I knew too much about Specgru’s task force, it’s not like I could just retire and leave. No, I’d never be able to up and leave now- I’d either go AWOL or die here. 

Or die here. 

Then it made sense to me. 

Being requested by name, the effort they took to get me here, the mess with the lack of files and history that was left, my dad's sudden disappearance. Price knew him. Knew me. 

I raised a hand to the pocket where his photo didn’t sit. 

“You think this will make up for it..” my voice turned sour, unrecognizable to even me. “You were his captain.” I whispered out. 

Price nodded with conviction, the action like an admission of guilt- which it might as well have been. He took a drag of his cigar, the scent was seedy and seemed to only fuel my emotions. If he hadn’t been gone for years already, I would’ve almost let them run rampant. 

“Your old man was a hero.” He spoke softly, as if the anger boiling through my blood didn’t mean anything to him. 

“He-

“He was a father!” I shouted suddenly and stood, the metal chair clanged out from underneath me. “He was my father and you were his captain!” I don’t know why I stated the obvious again, like saying it out loud wouldn't make it any more real to me. Like I could scream loud enough and wake myself up from this dream-realization. 

“And you were supposed to protect him-

“Watch your mouth, kid!” He shouted, demeanor flipped. He scolded me with a point of his finger, cigar forgotten as it dropped to the floor. “Fuckin’..” he drawled out annoyed, bending over to pick it up and toss it on his desk with a heavy sigh. 

He turned and eyed me from over his shoulder. 

“I did everything I could, but there’s always someone who has to get dirty. That’s the job, kid.” 

I left before he’d even finished, letting the thick door slam in my wake. 

Tears didn’t brim in my eyes like I thought they would, and the grief I’d felt so long ago didn’t really rise up into my chest like it always had. There was just a silent and stale anger lingering over all the bones in my body. My skin was hot, and my fingers wouldn’t stop twitching, there were no breaths I could inhale that reached deep enough. 

I made it maybe three steps from my door before he was there, cocooning myself into his larger than life embrace. Konig shuffled us into my room and before I knew it my boots were off and we were crinkling my sheets, limbs tangled. He held me like that- my head resting on his chest, his hands playing with my fingers, until my breathing grew even and the pressure in my head dissipated. 

He kept inhaling through his mouth, in little gasps, like he was trying to find something to say. I rolled closer to him after a while, tipping my head up and fingering at the ripped holes on his mask.

“It’s okay,” I mumbled with a weak smile. “Everything's fine, I’ll tell you about it later. Okay?” 

“Later..” he mused thoughtfully like he wanted to continue, bright eyes searching mine. 

“Mmm.” I hummed and perked up to place a soft kiss on his chin over the mask. His stare held mine like they were itching to say something, and he shifted to hover above me. 

“What is it, König?” I asked, concern lacing my voice. He pressed his body closer to mine, and twisted a hand over one of mine, leaning the most of his weight on one side. 

“There’s some things I need to tell you, Maus.” His eyes drifted over to our hands- mine grew sweaty, and my heart began to race all over again. 

“Wh-“ I began, but he started before me. 

“You make my heart beat,” He confessed, low like it was a half breath or a whisper. Eyes trained on the skin of my nails, “You make my blood pump,” his voice was weak and his words trembled their way through his lips. “You make me lose control of myself, Liebling.” 

His hands shook around mine, and his eyes seemed to look everywhere around the place where I lay except my face- as if the moment he looked at me he’d never be able to form the right words. 

After a thick moment and a heavy breath he pulled at the hand he held and set it over the cloth on his face, pinching my fingers together and letting me drag it down over his skin. He was pale, and the lightest of freckles dotted the tips of his cheeks and forehead. The sight of him immediately made me swoon. This was him, and now I’d never be able to unsee it. I wanted to burn his face into every inch of my irises. I let my fingers dance over the bone of his nose, and it wrinkled under me when he scrunched it. Unused- probably- of letting anything but his mask touch it. 

I couldn’t really tell what color his hair was, in the dark of my room but it was light and cropped short, the tips barely fringing in curls over his forehead. A couple scars littered around the corners of his face, one in particular near his mouth drug up and twitched under the muscle there. 

“König..” I whispered and he finally let his eyes meet mine, they crinkled in the corners, and my stomach erupted in butterflies when he finally smiled above me. Crooked teeth and twitchy nosed. 

“Your German has gotten better.” He praised gently. Genuinely happy I could pronounce his name properly now. 

“I had a good teacher.” I pruned back, pulling his face down by his jaw to kiss him eagerly. Reaching for the comfort that only he had been able to provide. 

God how every part of me ached for the sweetness of his lips. His body untensed under my touch, and I slowly began to pull bits of our clothing off. His shirt.. my jacket.. his belt.. His body grew heavy over me, and I welcomed it. It was like an extra secure, six foot ten weighted blanket. I willingly let myself fold under him as he pressed into me. In no time our kisses grew intense and we were both pulling away to gasp for air. I tangled my hands in his hair and he moved to trail his mouth down the curve of my jaw, his hands wandered and slid down my body. I twitched when he ticked over sensitive parts, inching my thin shirt up and over my arms. 

He groaned, “I am in agony, little mouse. I need you, can you feel what you do to me?” He slotted his hips down into mine, the stiffness in his pants lined up perfectly in between my thighs and I couldn’t help the needy-sounding whine that followed. 

“The sight- the smell of you.. Scheiße, Liebling.” His touches became desperate, nails pricked against the soft of my skin and his calloused knuckles scraped down my waist. He slipped so easily in and out of German it made my head spin. 

I tugged at the fly of his zipper and he kicked them off as soon as they were loose, raising up off my body to slide mine down too. A pile of our mixed clothes formed over the dirty floor. His cock slapped up against our abdomens, it sat heavy and hot and wet between our bodies. I bucked my hips up against him- encouraging all the noises I could out of his raspy throat. His voice was muffled against my collarbone again, while he nipped at the skin there. I shuddered. 

“Please, let me taste you.” 

I bit at my bottom lip and nodded, holding eye contact with me and he licked and nipped down my body. Blatantly leaving marks and bright red bites as he went. He slipped his body down until it was completely off the foot of the bed and was kneeling on the floor. I hesitated for a moment but ultimately couldn’t feel bad for very long. 

His strong arms yanked me down the bed to his face, pulling the sheets up behind me; and my thighs snapped close over his head when his warm mouth instantly found my clit. He settled one large hand over my hip and stomach, fingers long enough to tease me while his tongue lapped up and down my folds. His other hand dug into the fat of my thigh, encouraging me to ride and grind up into his face. And I did so enthusiastically, chasing my rapidly approaching orgasm. 

He released my thigh, and sunk two digits into me, curling up immediately and rubbing harshly against the bundle of nerves that sat below my belly button. I moaned a mess of his name and curses. Suddenly it was like the room turned hot and my brain became fuzzy. 

“F-fuck König.. I’m already, I’m so close..” 

He found my clit again, and sucked at the flesh around it, three fingers scraping and rubbing the inside of my gummy walls. I trembled above him, and the cot shook- although I quickly realized he had his hand down underneath the frame of the bed, jerking himself to the movements he made his fingers mimick. 

Fuck that’s hot. 

“Wait!” I cried suddenly, pulling away. König stopped immediately, eyes flashing up to mine with eyebrows furrowed in worry- afraid he had hurt me. 

“I want to cum with you inside me.” I blurted out, too lust-drunk to even be embarrassed about what I was saying. I needed him. He hesitated, but rose up again to crawl over me, and I latched my legs around his hips, pulling him down against me. 

He kissed me again, and I humped up into him pathetically. Trying to maneuver his long torso lower so that he’d rub up against me properly. He chuckled a little at my desperate attempts to slide him inside of my slippery cunt. 

“Don't you want me?” I whined. 

“So fucking badly.” His whispers were harsh, and he let the tip of his fat cock notch against my entrance. I clenched and his grip bruised my hips in an attempt to steady me. It was silent while he pushed in until it started to burn and stretch, the both of us holding our breaths for any slight noise of uncomfortability from the other. 

A high pitched whine left me when he brushed against that spot in me again, and I felt myself tighten around him. 

“Maus..” he choked out, rubbing up and down my sides trying to soothe my body loose, “You keep p-pushing me out.” He fumbled over his words and I let my hips fall open in an attempt to relax. 

“Sorry,” I mumbled, throwing my body deeper into the mattress. “You’re so big I can't-“ I sighed and bucked my hips up suddenly, sliding him further into me. Groans from the both of us followed as he bottomed out into me, his heavy balls practically slapping against my ass. 

He cursed in German some more and I had to pry his hands from their death grip on my hips- so he opted on holding my palms flat down on each side of my head. 

He lowered his face and let his nose brush up against mine, lips barely even touching, “Can you feel it, Maus? How much my body craves yours?” 

I swallowed thickly and my core squeezed him in taut, the muscles in my lower stomach nearly cramping. I let my head fall to the side, avoiding his gaze as a new heat flushed up over my chest and neck. My wetness was clearly evident over his chin, and I shut my eyes tight. 

“Maus..” he teased, flexing his cock inside me, a moan escaped. “Please look at me.” I shook my head. 

“It’s too much.” 

“Too much?” He asked, and began to pull out. I sighed, and quickly grew the feeling of emptiness. 

I pulled him in again with my legs wrapped around his middle, slotting his hips right back down into mine. We both felt it as his head kissed the entrance of my womb. My head tossed back, and he removed a hand to place it over my stomach- up high where he sat inside of me. 

I heard him huff through his nose in a slight laugh, so I opened my eyes to peer down at where he was looking. There was a slight bulge just below my belly button. I gasped. 

“That’s not what you think it is, König.” I mumbled. 

“No?” He asked, reaching for my hand to place it under where his sat. 

“What is it then, Liebling?” He teased, pulling out and pressing down just enough that I could feel it under my palm when he pushed back in. 

“Oh fuck..” I whined, throwing my head back as he began a slow and steady rhythm. A deep rhythm that stretched me as deep and wide as I could possibly go. 

Groans and a wet slapping sound steadily began to fill the room. 

He pulled back once more to push my thighs up to my chest, almost folding me completely in half he tucked his palms under my knees. 

My muscles tensed as my orgasm approached me all over again. Konig pressed down over my folded body to smother me in rough and face paced kisses, mirroring his sloppily growing thrusts until he was rutting into me- shoving my womb up into my stomach. 

“Konig.. konig..” I cried, “Please,” 

“I know, Maus. Me too.” He grit out, teeth clenched and fingers digging into the sides of my knees. He dropped them then, and hoisted me up into his arms like a ragdoll, jerking up into me and holding me as close as he could. My arms wrapped around his face, and my legs hooked together at the ankles behind his back. 

His breaths grew rabid and his voice cracked when he spoke, “Where-

“In.” I half-shouted, half-moaned. “I have an IUD. In, I want to feel it.” 

His fingernails dug into the skin of my hips as he pulled me down one last, rather rough, time. And I came undone, spilling all over him. The waves coursed through me and Konig came under me with a guttural groan, letting my own orgasm milk his right through him. He huffed, sweaty head pressed into the center of my chest as we took out time riding out our pleasures. 

His warmth seeped down out of me, I could feel it dripping down the inside of my thighs. He didn’t press up into me so roughly anymore, but the sheer size and thickness of him still stood upright and deep inside of me. We both sighed after a minute, and he layed back-down onto the mattress with me uptop of him. Still plugged up inside of me and twitching every few minutes. 

“Thank you, Maus.” He giggled after a moment, face buried at the hair on the top of my head, a loopy grin settled over my face. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to this. Quite frankly, I didn’t want to. I let my smile mimic his own. 

It faltered after a second, his own emotional mask falling away. 

“You okay, König?” I asked again that night and he kissed me so incredibly deeply before he answered. 

“It’s KORTAC,” he paused, eyeing me for any indication or sudden movement. His eyes held regret, “They're sending us back to Germany.” 

My breath caught in my throat, and I raised a hand to push myself upright off his chest. He slipped out of me with a wince, but he wrapped an arm around me to keep me close, the other wiping stray hair at my cheek away. 

“Germany?” I questioned, slightly stunned. 

He nodded, face falling. I racked my brain for a second. 

“That makes sense,” I said, “Price offered me a job, back at home base.” 

He eyebrows rose, then read over my expression and they quickly fell again. 

“Liebling.” He choked up, pulling me into him and rolling us over so he was smothered over me again. “My beautiful, sehr schön, little Maus.” 

Then it clicked in my overworked brain, SPECGRU and KORTAC. 

SPECGRU and … KORTAC 

And. 

Their joint mission. Price wanted me back with him at his home base, wherever that may be. And König was going back with his team. To Germany. 

“What will you do?” He asked, hovering over me slightly and covering me in kisses like it was the last time he’d ever taste my skin. 

Because it probably was. 

I lolled my head to the side and glanced at the photo that sat wilted and sad on the floor. 

A younger version of myself stared back at me, tucked safely in my dad's arms. He looked over at my kid form with those warm, inviting eyes. 

I mumbled weakly. “I have no choice, do I?”