#but I feel so happy to finally have this done | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fernandopiastri28 · 2 days

Note

Oscar is angry about carlos situation and his Miami GP result so y/n helps him relax (maybe a handjob,maybe Smut..you chose)

the city that keeps the roof blazing ~ oscar piastri

| warning ~ smut, degrading language. MDNI

Y/N’s heart thrums in her chest, an anxious sweat pooling across her back under her corset dress. Oscar’s not doing well, having taken a hit from the Ferrari of Carlos Sainz and losing his front wing as a result. He’d had to pit, finding himself in last, only in front of Logan who’d already DNFed. Her nails are bitten up, rough on the edges. She can hope and pray for at least a points finish, even if it’s just one or two, but at this point, the whole situation is looking rather dire.

If Oscar doesn’t already despise Carlos, he certainly does now.

In the final few laps, the team instructs Oscar to basically not pull anything stupid and risk Lando getting his first win. It’s honestly offensive of them, as if Oscar has ever done something to sabotage anyone else in any circumstances. In anything, the McLaren team should be focusing on getting a penalty awarded to Carlos for his shitty stunt against Piastri or figuring out why the fuck Donald Trump is in their garage.

When a McLaren passes the chequered flag first, Y/N can’t even feel happy for Lando. She just feels fucked over for her boyfriend who’s being perfectly polite and mature over the radio but is gonna be absolutely destroyed once he’s out of shot from all the cameras and media.

He’d been leading the race at one point, and now he’s having his first out of points finish of the year in 13th. Stupid Carlos, stupid fucking Carlos. Y/N looks around the rest of the garage at everyone jumping around and cheering for the brit’s win. She keeps her headset on, smiling politely as Oscar would be if he were here. She can’t muster up any excitement, so she’ll fake the bare minimum.

She navigates her way through flocks of commentators and team members as she attempts to find her boyfriend. “Oscar?” She has to crane her neck, searching for a papaya race suit that isn’t the one being showered in praises. As two men who tower over her push past, she bends her arm tighter to keep her bag in the junction of her elbow and close to her.

“Y/N,” A tired voice calls out, Oscar tugging his balaclava off with one hand. “I’m not crazy right? You say that- that was all Carlos,” He pants, wiping a line of sweat that’s gathered over his top lip. Y/N rubs his cheek, applying pressure to where the outline from his helmet is especially dark.

She nods, her hand squeezing his bicep through the thick material of his race suit. “Completely baby, you were doing so good.” She’s about to tell him that she was convinced today would be his first race win before her mind reminds her that telling him that isn’t going to make him feel better, in fact he’d probably feel even more shitty that she was expecting a win for him and he ‘let her down’.

He drops his head into his hands, letting out a noise that’s halfway between a sigh and a whine. “What is his problem with me? Because if it’s genuinely got to do with Lando and I being mates,” He groans, shaking his head in disbelief. “Just can’t deal with this right now,”

Before she knows it, Oscar’s being whisked away from her to be weighed and then dragged through endless interviews and media tasks. It’s the absolute last thing he wants to be doing, which is just going to make him more irritated and upset tonight.

Y/N has to come up with something to cheer him up.

Something certainly.

At the end of interviews, when they’re finally allowed to head home, Y/N slips her hand into Oscar’s, squeezing each of his individual fingers as she aligns the time of their feet hitting the floor. He just hums plainly, instead of laughing along with each pinch she gives to his digits. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Her tone is soft as they get into the car, Oscar’s eyebrows furrowed as he clicks his seatbelt in.

Oscar doesn’t need to be offered twice as he immediately shoots off into a rant. “He’s just so immature, he’s almost 30 and driving a 23 year old in his second year off the track. Each time I get blamed for it.” He starts the car, his eyes hyper focused on the road ahead as he just aimlessly insults Carlos. “I mean- he’s just an absolute idiot. I meant it when I asked if he was blind because in what reality did I deserve a penalty and he deserved a spot change?”

Y/N keeps her eyes on him, watching as the muscles of his neck flex and tense, his cheeks getting hot, the veins in his hands becoming infinitely more defined as he grips the steering wheel. She’s ashamed of how turned on it makes her, seeing him like this. Maybe that’s exactly what he needs tonight though.

“And-and, fuck, he’s just soo desperate for another Carlando podium that he’s willing to drive me into a fucking wall just so he can stand on the top step with his precious Lando,” He mocks him, positively seeing red. “I’ve considered Logan my best mate for years longer than those two have known each other yet you don’t see me risking all of Carlos’ races so Logan can get a fucking point,” The swears are just spilling out of his mouth at this point, sounding like a second nature to a degree.

Her hand meets his thigh, rubbing it tenderly as a way to calm him down. “Keep going Osc, just let it all out,” Her voice is thick, warm, and sweet like honey. It’s exactly what he needs right now. He needs her next to him, needs her voice in his ear.

Needs her hands on him.

“I just think he’s an entitled brat who doesn’t deserve a seat,” It’s harsh, but it’s coming straight from the heart. “I’m glad Ferrari dropped him,” It’s said accompanied with a long, drawn out sigh. He’s relieved, finally able to have gotten that all out.

Yet, there’s still a bugging sense of dissatisfaction deep in his bones that he knows he won’t get from continuously insulting the spaniard. Luckily for Oscar, he’s just about pulling into the hotel valet.

With a single look at Y/N, he conveys everything he wants when they get to their hotel room, and lucky for him- she wants the exact same.

They maintain a sense of decorum in the elevator ride up, which can’t be said about each time Oscar has a bad race. Example, the 2023 Belgian grand prix. After his DNF, his mouth had been attached to her neck and his hands on her breasts the second the elevator doors shut.

It had been a very awkward situation to apologise for after a family of four with two very young kids had entered the lift five flights before their hotel room.

But back to now, the second their hotel door clicks shut behind them, Y/N’s taunting him over to the bed with chaste kisses on his cheeks, each one just narrowly avoiding his lips. “You’re a crazy tease, you know that?” He groans, lacing his fingers into her hair and pulling her in for a kiss as they reach the bed.

She replies with an ignorant shrug and a careless smirk, “It’s fun- getting you all riled up. Makes me feel like Carlos,”

Oscar’s touch sears hot against her skin, his glare even worse. “Don’t fucking mention him in our bedroom,” It’s barely a hiss, but it’s enough of a warning to keep her in line. Instead, she decides to take action on him. Her fingers drag along the hem of his polo, tantalising slowly. She doesn’t need to wonder why that is, it's the same as when he does it along the zippers of her dresses or buttons of her blouses.

She wants him to beg for it.

“Please,” The heat between her legs is near unbearable from how desperate he sounds, and her thighs chafe from how she’s kept them squeezed together as an attempt to relieve some of the ache of her cunt. “Y/N, I need you,”

The tips of her fingers jut down to splay across the bulge in his shorts, applying some sort of pressure to the spot. He groans, grabbing her wrist and pushing down harder so she’s fully palming him. He sits on the edge of the bed, looking all pretty and desperate just for her as she continues her ‘massaging’. “You’ll get it Osc, I promise,”

His legs are nudged apart by her hands as she sinks down to her knees in front of him. His eyes light up, his lips red and bitten up from how he’s been chewing down to keep in his whiny noises and begs. Her fingers expertly undo his shorts, poking him so he’ll lift his hips so she can pull the pants and his boxers down in one go.

His cock doesn’t hit up against his stomach when his tight boxers are removed, instead just lays heavy between his muscular thighs. Truly a sight to be seen. “So hard,” Y/N marvels, gently sliding her cupped hand up and down his length. One pump, two pumps. “And needy,” He looks up at him through her lashes to where his bottom lip is tucked under his teeth and his cheeks are flaming red.

Oscar bucks his hops forward instinctively, chasing the high of how good her hand, or mouth preferably, feels. He’s lucky when she doesn’t make him wait too long before she grants his wish, opening her mouth, flattening her tongue, and taking the majority of his length into her mouth.

Y/N’s toes curl in an attempt to remove her somewhat of a gag reflex she has. Today, she wants to take him as deep as she can and make him feel as good as possible. It’s deeper than she was expecting, which is definitely a win in her books. Pulling back slightly, she focuses on the head for the time being.

A string of praises spill past his lips, “Fuck, yes, so so good.” His hand snakes into hold her hair, keeping her head in place as he gradually goes deeper. “Taking me so good, sucking me off like an angel,” Her lips stretch around his thickness, her eyes void of any emotion beyond lust as she stares up at him.

Y/N’s tongue glides back and forth along the underside of his cock, disgustingly loud sucking noises filling up the entire hotel room. He cups her cheek, his thumb dragging along the bulging of her cheek. His hips inch forward, his cock stuffing her mouth full and moving towards doing the same for her throat.

Y/N feels insanely good, and maybe even too good. Panic fills her head, what if Oscar’s still thinking about pleasuring her over himself. It’s typical Oscar, catering each sexual experience to prioritise her and her pleasure, even if it means he doesn’t cum as quickly as expected. Steadying her hands on his thighs,she pulls back gradually, “Fuck my mouth,” It’s not a question, suggestion, or even request.

It’s a straight up demand.

“What, why?” His voice is more broken and weak than she’d expected. Hers is too, but that’s to be assumed when someone has a cock prodding the back of their throat.

“Because I'm giving you head to make you feel good. This isn’t about my pleasure Osc,” Her voice is absolutely ruined and will likely be even worse by the end of this. Y/N cuts him off before he can begin to protest, which once again, she knows he will. “No but-s Oscar, just fuck my face,” He gives into the carnal desire as his hips begin to snap back and forth, burying into her throat.

Drool spills out over her bottom lip and down her chin, her mind fuzzy without another tangible thought besides giving Oscar the best blowjob possible. Her jaw is aching but it’s ignored as she solely cares about getting him to orgasm. He huffs and groans, continuously sending praises mixed with harsh insults of calling her a slut and a whore as he gets more shallow with his thrusts, clearly very much so on edge.

She takes advantage of his situation, suckling solely on the sensitive tip as he warns her that he’s “So close Y/N, I’m ‘bout to cum,” The fact that she doesn’t budge or show any signs of slowing down tells Oscar enough. With three pumps of her hand on his cock, he’s spilling out into the wet heat of her mouth. As if time and consciousness is slipping further from her, his index and middle fingers tap her cheek to get her to pull off, then again to tell her to swallow.

Her jaw goes lax to show the proof that she did what he told her to as he takes his shirt off, gently wiping a mixture of cum and drool off her chin. Her eyes fight so hard to focus on the glorious sight of his toned abdomen and well filled in muscles as he cleans her up, but she’s so overwhelmed by the pleasure that she not only gave, but genuinely got from that experience.

Oscar scoops Y/N up onto the bed, arranging her under the sheets so he can cuddle up against her, his chest to her back and his arms slung loosely around her stomach. “That was perfect,” He murmured, pecking at her cheek and ear as a further thank you.

Her throat does indeed ache, but it’s a worthy pain. “You’re not as upset about what happened with Car-” She can’t even finish the spanish ferrari’s name or her question before her boyfriend has his hand squished over her mouth.

“No saying his name,” He shakes his head, tutting disapprovingly. “But yes, I feel much better. Thank you babe,”

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri smut #f1 #formula1 #formula one #f1 2024 #miami gp 2024 #miami grand prix #carlos sainz #oscar and carlos #ferrari f1 #mclaren f1

117 notes · View notes

transfem-goddess-temple · 3 days

Text

Damn, I love working out. More specifically, I love returning to the temple after I workout. The way all my little slutty worshippers gather around and beg to be the one who’s aloud to huff me and lick my body clean of sweat, it’s just so cute.

Eventually I’ll point one out and take them to my holy bedchamber. I’ll strip before their eyes, loving how they whimper and drips while looking at my sweaty, musky body.

When I’m done teasing them I’ll snap my fingers and they’ll come running over. I’ll grab their head and stuff their nose in my stuffy crotch, my cock getting hard and my pussy starting to warm. They always start with sniffing and moaning, intoxicated by my goddess stench. But they have a job to do, so I eventually pull them away and have them lick my sweat covered body clean.

I have to say, I wonder what my sweat tastes like. It must be really good, since my darlings are always drooling and lapping at my skin, between all my folds and under my tits. Even in my armpits they huff and sniff and lap up all my girl-smell.

As a finale, I let them return to my crotch. They get so happy going back down there. They always take deep breaths like it’s their first time getting fresh air their entire lives. I can’t blame them, the scent of their goddess is an honor to even smell in passing, and I’m allowing them to burry their face in the sweatiest, muskiest part of my body.

The kiss and suck my balls, trail their tongue across my hardening shaft, and lap up my pussy juice as it mixes with the collected perspiration. I love this part, not just because I feel their soft, slutty mouth all over my groin, but also because they can’t help themselves from whining, moaning, and fingering themselves. They’ve been driven completely crazy by my body and oder, pushing their ass out so their goddess has a nice view while getting clean.

It just gets to a point where I can’t help myself. I pick them up and throw them onto my satin lined bed. Before they can even beg for me to fuck then I’m inside their tight whore pussy. For however long it takes for me to get myself off, they scream and moan and thank me for gracing them with my superior goddess cock. I know they’ve cummed their brains out by their third orgasm or so, that’s when they stop making sense and just repeat the word please over and over again while I toss their body into whatever position I want.

Finally, I let them know I’m going to cum. Their eyes light up and they smile so wide. They beg me to mark their cervix with my cum, beg to be bred by their goddess. Of course, who am I to deny them that pleasure. I empty my load into their tight cunt. I tell them how good of a slut they are for me while my cum fills their womb.

Unfortunately, all the extra exercise has made me sweaty again, and my good little helper is too brain-broken to do anything but finger their cunt while cum drips out. Oh well, I guess I’ll have to get another slut to help clean me up.

So, who’s next~

96 notes · View notes

lulublack90 · 22 hours

Text

Prompt 8 - Not A Date

@wolfstarmicrofic May 8, word count 662

“So, fancy going to Hogsmeade with me on Saturday?” Sirius asked. “James is going with Evans and Peter is off with, erm, I can’t remember her name, but he’s off with someone and I don’t want to go on my own.” He scuffed his toe on the rug, looking up at Remus though his eyelashes.

“What, like on a date?” Remus teased. Sirius’s heart skipped a beat.

“Don’t be daft.” He grinned back. But secretly he wished it was a date. He'd wanted one for a while.

“Oh, go on then.” Remus nodded. “I need some new quills anyway.” Sirius beamed.

“Great. Where do you want to meet?”

“Sirius, we live in the same room. We can walk down together.”

“Oh, okay, great.” Sirius felt a bit flustered. James came barrelling in and tackled him to the floor. Thank Merlin for James Potter. He wrapped his arms around James and attempted to get on top of him, but James dead weighted him and squashed him into the floor.

“Hello gorgeous, fancy seeing you here.” James cooed at him.

“Get off me, you big lug.” Sirius wiggled and pushed at James. But that boy was all muscle. James finally got to his feet and hauled Sirius with him. They wandered off together, leaving Remus to his homework.

Saturday came and Sirius had been too excited to sleep. It’s not a date, it’s not a date. He had to keep telling himself. They went down to breakfast together and when they were done James and Peter disappeared off to find their dates.

“Shall we?” Sirius asked, making a show of bowing Remus forward. Remus snorted at him.

“Sure.” And walked off.

The walk down to the village was pretty quiet. The other students milling around them making all the noise.

“So where do you want to go first?” Sirius asked, once the picturesque village was visible before them.

“Honeydukes,” Remus grinned. Of course, Sirius should have known. That boy was addicted to chocolate.

“Perfect.” He grinned as they headed towards the sweet shop.

He opened the door for Remus and said to him as they entered the sweet-smelling place. “Get whatever you want, my treat.” Remus turned and gave him a funny look.

“I thought you said this wasn’t a date.” Sirius swallowed and became very interested in a box of peppermint imps.

“Should I get some of these for Peter? They’re his favourite aren’t they?” Deflection. That always worked, right?

“Sirius, answer the question.” Damn it. Sirius picked up a packet of fudge flies.

“I’ll get these for James as well. Can you see the fizzing whizzbees? I have a hankering for some.” Remus stood in front of him, blocking his way.

“Sirius, is this or is this not a date?” He’d folded his arms, Sirius knew he wasn’t getting out of this.

“Would it really be that bad if it was?!” He scowled. He was fucking this up as usual. He felt the tell-tale stinging behind his eyes as he blinked back tears that had suddenly tried to burst out of him.

Remus’s arms relaxed.

“No,” He said, his voice low and sincere. Sirius’s eyes snapped up to Remus’s, searching his face for any signs that he was joking. “And if this is a date, I won’t feel bad about lightening your purse.�� He winked mischievously and Sirius watched as Remus gabbed a basket and began piling all of his favourite sweets into it.

When it was full, they took it to the till and Sirius paid. His purse was indeed considerably lighter when they left the shop. “Silly bugger.” Remus laughed at him at the same time as he took Sirius’s hand in his and entwined their fingers together. “Right I still need quills, then I’m all yours.” Sirius looked down at their hands and couldn’t believe that this was real. He felt ten feet tall and so happy he could have floated off without the assistance of the fizzing whizzbees.

105 notes · View notes

bri-cheeses · 10 hours

Text

“Is that Potter’s jersey?”

Regulus looks up, startled, as Evan drops his books onto the table between them. The sunlight filtering in through the library window swirls dust motes around, lighting Regulus’s curls as he replies.

“Excuse me?”

“I said,” Evan reiterates, sliding easily into the booth, “is that Potter’s jersey?”

Regulus’s stills.

“No.”

Evan looks at him pointedly. “You sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a Gryffindor jersey, Reg.”

“What an astute observation. Now if you don’t mind, I’m trying to get work done, so I would appreciate it if you could leave me alone.”

With that, Regulus dips his quill into his ink pot and starts writing again. Evan just stares at him as the scratching of the quill on paper fills the air.

But based on the way Regulus glances up sharply a few moments later, he acutely feels Evan’s gaze on him. And he is not pleased.

“What is it?” His voice is tight and impatient.

“Is that Potter’s jersey?” Evan asks again, somewhat stupidly.

“Is that Barty’s hoodie?” Regulus snaps nastily.

Evan’s face flushes with the humiliation and anger that comes from that simple, incredibly cruel remark. It wouldn’t be as bad if Regulus hadn’t known exactly what he was doing by saying something like that—after all, Evan had filled him in on everything just last week.

Evan stands up with a clenched jaw, beginning to stuff his books into his bag with more force than strictly necessary.

A series of vivid images flashes through his mind as he does so: Barty stumbling into the dorm late one night, slightly drunk after attending a notorious Hufflepuff-style party. Evan looking up and laughing at the state Barty was in. Barty coming closer and telling Evan that he had the prettiest laugh he had ever heard, and Evan swallowing thickly.

Barty’s lips on his, mouths tangling together in a single glorious, catastrophic mistake.

One thing had led to another, and Evan had landed himself in what he privately thought was the worst yet best choice of his life. Being friends with benefits with Barty was terrible, but it was also more than Evan could’ve ever asked for from Barty. So he had taken it.

And now here he was, having stolen Barty’s hoodie, which had been haphazardly thrown onto the floor by his bed—probably by Evan himself, if he’s being honest—and wearing it around just so he can pretend to actually have something of Barty’s.

But the point is, Evan hadn’t told Regulus about all of that just for him to be able to hurt Evan whenever he feels like it.

And so Evan starts to walk away, teeth clenched in anger and face still flushed red. He’s breathing entirely too hard, too—he can feel it, but he had had a terrible day before even coming in here, and he just doesn’t have the effort to calm himself down.

Then, from behind him, he hears Regulus call out, “Evan, wait—”

Evan whirls around to find Regulus looking at him with concern in his eyes. The pity he finds there does nothing to smooth out Evan’s boiling temper.

“That was a shitty thing to say and you know it, and I can leave if I want. And I do,” Evan adds with an air of finality, about to turn back around when Regulus’s voice fills the space between them.

“No, no, you’re right.”

Evan stops.

“I shouldn’t have gone there,” Regulus continues, starting to anxiously twist a strand of hair around his fingers. “It’s just that I get defensive and… well, I say stupid things. But yeah, it—it is James’s jersey.”

Evan just looks at him silently. He’s still mad at Regulus, but… Regulus has wanted this for a long time. And Regulus is one of Evan’s best friends, even if he does say some out of line things sometimes.

“I’m happy for you,” Evan tells him.

Regulus smiles softly, a faint blush making its way to his cheeks.

Evan smiles a little in response and shifts the strap of his bag from where it’s digging into his shoulder. Regulus eyes the action, an unimpressed look appearing on his face.

“You can come sit back down now, you know. If you’re not still mad at me.”

His familiar, slightly sarcastic tone is comforting, and Evan’s anger eases a bit more as he walks towards where Regulus is sitting.

“For the record,” Regulus murmurs as Evan sits down again, “I hope Barty gets his act together soon.”

Evan feels his stomach flip at the mention of Barty, but he can’t deny that it makes him happy that Reg is rooting for them as well.

“Off the record… me too, ” Evan admits.

Then he slowly gets out his books again, and he and Regulus begin to study in companionable silence.

#rosekiller #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #jegulus #regulus black #slytherin skittles #marauders era #rosekiller microfic

66 notes · View notes

mountttmase · 1 day

Text

y/n

liked by masonmount, freyaaaaxoxo, benchilwell and others

y/n complete 💍🩷

Thank you to everyone who came to spend our special day with us and make it so memorable. Never did I think any of this would be on the cards for me but I can’t tell you how it feels to finally be a Mount.

Here to forever with my boys 🤭

view comments

masonmount wifey 🤍 I can’t believe we got here finally, love you to the moon back 💫

y/n love you more than anything 🩷

freyaaaaxo look at Georgie dressed up in his little suit 😩 thank you for letting me be part of your special day, I’ll never forget it 😘

y/n I couldn’t have done it without you girl 😘 you know I’ll do the same when your time comes too 😏

woody_ 😉

declanrice Portsmouth never looked so good 😉 congrats and good luck putting up with Masons for the rest of you life. I don’t envy you.

masonmount you can just say you’re jealous it’s alright bro

jazbenham ONE OF US ONE OF US!!! This was just the best day, so so excited for you both 🩷

y/n thank you for accepting me 🥺 I love being part of your special family

lew.mount and we love having you!

sophiaaemeila what a magical day 🤍 so lovely to see two people find their person I’m just so happy for you both

y/n we love you 🤍 thanks so much for spending our special day with us 😘

benchilwell you’re welcome by the way, I don’t think you’d be here without me 😉

y/n love you Benji! Thank you for interfering like always 😘

masonmount

liked by y/n, woody_, lukeshaw23 and others

masonmount thank you to everyone that came to our special day. I can’t believe I got to marry the love of my life in my favourite place on earth.

So excited for the future with my little family

Much love, the Mounts 🤍

view more comments

y/n hubby 🥺 thank you for making me the happiest girl in the world. Meeting you has changed everything for me and I’ve never been more thankful to have been stuck in a lift in my life You’re my whole heart you gorgeous man 🩷

masonmount finally get to call you my misses and you not have a go at me 😌

woody_ Parker was the best dressed man there and I don’t how to feel about that

masonmount I mean you could have put a bit more effort it mate

freyaaaxo @woody_ I thought you looked nice baby don’t listen him 🩷

woody_ @/freyaaaaxo 😘

kaihavertz29 happy for you man ❤️

masonmount 😘

declanrice brother ❤️ what a day!

masonmount love you bro, thank you for being there 🤜🏻🤛🏻

declanrice always bro ❤️

benchilwell Who’s that handsome man in picture number six 😏

masonmount 🙄

lukeshaw23 trust you to get married in Portsmouth I can’t believe you

masonmount what you on about? It’s the jewel of the uk. Plus I told y/n she could pick the honeymoon destination if we got married here

y/n marriage is about compromise after all 😌

#Mason mount #mason mount instagram au #mason mount one shot #mason mount fan fic #mason mount fluff #mason mount fanfic #mason mount blurb #mason mount imagine #mason mount imagines #mason mount x reader #mason mount x y/n #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer imagines #footballer imagine #footballer fan fiction #a mountain to climb series

99 notes · View notes

middlingmay · 1 day

Text

This one's for @pirateaangel, who requested a feelings realisation fic based in Stalag Luft III, with Gale in denial, Bucky acting out, and a chase into the night.

I hope you like it! Read under the cut.

I do accept fic requests if you have them, though feeling a bit of the midweek blues so would particularly welcome something upbeat this week!

After the men were seen to, and Gale had personally checked they had all the meagre offerings a desperate place like Stalag Luft III could possibly offer - blankets, one pillow, and a bunk to put ‘em on, medical attention (if not intervention), and some barely passable food and water - perhaps John Egan should not have been the first thing on his mind.

But there he was, as large and demanding and present in Gale’s head as he ever was in person. That had been the way of it ever since Bucky had wormed his way into Gale’s affections, into his friendship: whenever the responsibilities of leadership waned, and Gale was left with a few moments of quiet, his thoughts invariably turned to John, at least for a moment.

What trouble is he gettin’ into?

He better not have forgotten to eat again.

He’s gotta stop pissin’ off the Colonel. For a guy so affable, he sure did have a problem with Colonels.

Gale wasn’t some obsessive dame or nothin’. Just, someone had to look out for John whilst he looked out for everyone else, and Gale got the job.

Gale liked the job. Whenever anyone jokingly offered to take the other Major off his hands for a while, Gale would smile with the rest of them, but managed to keep John as his, well, as his somethin’.

And here in Poland, now that the quiet had descended and the men were all privately coming to terms with their new lot in this war, Gale wondered who’s job it was now.

Who told him that Gale went down? It was chaos, and he wasn’t convinced anyone would have observed any chutes. John would have sat there, fresh faced and relaxed after enjoying his leave in London, and have to hear 'No record', about where his buddy went down.

Gale wondered if it was vanity that made his assume John would be at least a little cut up about it. Lord, he hoped John didn’t drink over him.

If there was a way for him to write John, let him know he was okay, he would have done it. He woulda done anything, to spare his friend the grief.

Because if it were the other way around? If he’d had to find out that John had gone down, with no record, whilst he’d been yucking it up in London? Gale woulda drowned in that kind of guilt. Only the responsbility towards the other men in the plane with him the next time he took to the air would stop him from doing something reckless and final in the name of John Egan, KIA.

And in the relative privacy of his bunk, in the dark, Gale let himself wonder if that was normal? If it was something other men felt about bonds forged and severed by war.

And like always, he pushed the thought away. Course it was normal. It was known. There was no Buck without Bucky. And vice versa. Which gave him hope of a future out of this POW camp. So long as John was out there fighting the good fight, Buck could still exist.

It was also why he was equal amounts elated and devastated to see Brady two days after their internment at Stalag Luft III.

After Gale had secured them a bunk, and the fellas left to give Brady and Murph their space to settle, Brady had grabbed Gale’s wrist as he went to walk away.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you alive, Major,” Brady said, though there was no trace of joy on his face. Only something grim and sad.

“What is it, Brady?”

It took the pilot a few moments to gather his courage but he tugged on Gale’s wrist and he sat on the edge of Brady's bunk and listened.

“John was the commanding pilot on the mission.”

And Brady, for his part, got the front hand seat to both Egan and Cleven's grief at hearing the other went down. He watched the breath leave Major Cleven, watched something shutter behind his eyes, watched him swallow convulsively around words he didn’t want to ask but desperately wanted to know.

“Is he—do you know if—?”

“He bailed. I made sure of it, Major,” and Brady grabbed him with a mad sort of desperation, trying to make Gale understand in a way he couldn’t with John. “We were right behind each other, but we got seperated on the way down and the German’s were shooting at us as we fell…”

No record. More or less.

So that’s what it felt like. Cold, icy panic stabbing at his belly. Roiling nausea sparking up his throat. A floaty, buzzing sense that blinded him to Brady, and the fellas, and the bunk house, and landed him in a flak-ridden freefall with John Egan.

Had it been a hard landing? The kind that killed you on impact? Had it been soft and now he was all alone in enemy territory? Had he died before he hit the ground, or had German guns put one through his head and he fell to earth limp and gone, like a doll?

“..jor? Major!”

Brady looked at him concerned. The other fellas had returned and were shooting looks their way. Gale wasn’t sure how much they heard. Digging down to find that steel core John liked to tease him about, he stood from Brady’s bunk.

“Brady’s just informed me he’s missing one from his crew. Major Egan might still be out there.”

An excited chatter erupted amongst the boys. Benny grinned and slung his arm around Crank. The effect John had on people was astounding. In the middle of this miserable goddamned place, he still brought cheer and hope.

He let them have it, even if Gale wouldn’t allow it for himself.

Then, after a few more days, when the men were getting more and more despondent at the lack of familiar faces staggering into the camp, he heard it.

“Bucky! John!”

“Murph? Crank?!”

“Do any of you know if Buck made it? Do any—”

And of all the things swirling in his head as he stumbled towards the barbed wire fence, he found himself shouting, raspy and loud, “John Egan! Your two o’clock!”

He’d seen the back of John, grubby and dirty and greasy like the rest of ‘em when they'd came here. But when John whirled round on hearing his voice, and Gale saw the blood and the bruises and the sticky, rotten evidence of everything that had tried to keep John from stumbling into their camp - from coming back to him - and he saw John lighting up with relief and joy aimed at the sight of Gale, that fierce feeling he kept in his chest for John flared and caught and burned, and damn near choked him with the horror of it.

Because when John all but collapsed into his arms, and Gale couldn’t stop himself from clutching him right back until the tips of his fingers were white, he knew. He knew he loved him in ways he didn’t love the rest of their men, and he loved their men from the 100th. But Gale loved John in ways that kept him up at night. He loved him in ways that had him knowing just how many freckles John got in the sun, especially over his eyes. He loved him in ways that hurt with worry when John wasn’t there, and with a fury whenever John put himself in danger.

Gale loved John in a way that was dangerous here. And as he led John back to their hut, and got him squared up with a bunk next to his and called for a medic and got him clothes and bedding and water and food, he vowed to himself that he wouldn’t let his love endanger John.

Not here, not now, not ever.

And he tried, but he struggled.

It was ingrained into him, taking care of John. John was the mama hen of the 100th, don’t be fooled. He’d joked once about making a nest for the dodos when he was shipped off to England ahead of them all, but it wasn’t really a joke. He got the boys little things to make them more comfortable, made sure they got the chance to blow off steam to keep them sane, went toe-to-toe with the higher ups to defend the boys as best he could, and was the hand at their back when they stumbled.

Gale wasn’t like that. John liked to rib him and tell him he was the 100th’s poster boy, but in one of his more serious moments, he'd expanded:

“I’m serious, Buck. I don’t just mean all this,” he’d gestured all over Gale with a lopsided grin. “The boys look up to you. They copy you, try to emulate you. When they see you calm and steady, that’s what they do. When they see you thinking all careful, they give a little more thought, too. Ain’t no bad thing.”

But with John, caretakin’ came natural to Gale. And in the camp, it was no different. And that was the problem.

Whenever John winced, Gale was at his side propping him up, hands soothing over his back. But as soon as he righted himself, Gale abandoned him again for space and distance.

When John started coughing Gale gave him his own ration of hot water and helped him drink it down through the spluttering, but when John tried to touch his hands, in thanks or comfort, Gale snatched them away.

One night when Gale let his guard down and was telling John about how they got there, his eyes were far away and he didn’t see John’s hand reach out. But he felt the shock of John’s finger tips tracing the scar on his cheek.

Gale had frozen, words stuck in his throat and muscles locked as John rubbed his thumb back and forward.

And God, did it burn. It burned and tingled so good and Gale wanted to sob and drop his head into John’s hand but he couldn’t. He’d get them killed. He had to get them out of here in one piece and get back to Marge and marry her to keep both him and John safe from Gale’s love.

So when John opened his mouth to speak, Gale snatched up John’s wrist in a tight grip, and said firm and fierce, “Don’t.”

Things changed after that.

The distance that suddenly sprang up between the Majors became painfully clear to the rest of the 100th stuck with them in Stalag Luft III. Hell, it became clear to folks outside of the 100th, who had listened to heroic, humanising stories about the Buckies - the famed leaders of the Bloody Hundredth.

Gale avoided John at all costs. He still tried to do little things for him, he couldn’t help that compulsion, but when he left a biscuit from his Red Cross package on John’s pillow just before lights out, he felt it hit the back of his head as soon as dark hit. When he tried to give John easier jobs as he and the rest of the boys built up their strength, John would glare at him and take himself off to the tree stumps or the races the boys set up out of spite.

And if John hated him, that would have been easier. But when Gale overheard someone bitching about his orders, he also overheard a smack and a curse and caught sight of John stalking away from a young man clutching the back of his head. When Gale tried to give his food away just to cheer someone up, he felt John’s glare on the back of his head and more than one fellow had refused Gale’s offer, stammering and glancing between Gale and wherever John glowered behind him.

Gale just couldn’t stop loving him.

It came to a head when they tried to rebuild the radio.

Something in Gale had crumbled when the goons found the first one, and he threw himself into building a new one. And John, temporarily forgetting his righteous fury with Gale, constantly dropped bits and pieces he remembered they needed from the last one in front of Buck.

And one night, after everyone had gone to sleep and by the barely-there light of one dull candle, Gale thought he finally finished it. He let out a stunned breath, the cold billowing it in front of him, and fell against the back of his seat.

“Hey,” Bucky whispered from his bunk before scrambling from under the thin and ratty blanket. “You okay? What is it?”

Gale eyed the radio warily before flicking his eyes to Bucky. “I think - I think it’s finished.”

John’s eyes lit up with delight and pride and Gale flushed but couldn’t look away.

“Alright then,” he smiled. “Never doubted you. You wanna give it a try?”

The notion filled Gale with terror, but also with a desperate sort of eagerness and he couldn’t have said no if he tried. So he didn’t say anything, and only nodded.

With trembling fingers, and John by his side hurrying into the chair next to him and dragging himself as close as he could get, Gale tried to bring the radio to life.

Nothing.

But it was alright. The last one took a couple of tries, too.

But again, nothing.

And nothing.

Gale’s eyes burned and his throat tightened and the disappointment felt like lead shot right in his belly.

“Fuck,” Bucky cursed softly in his ear. One of those large, heavy hands came up to Gale’s neck and squeezed. “I’m sorry, Buck.”

And it was too much. It was too much because that hand was the only thing grounding him and Gale wanted to grab on to it and never let go. He wanted to bring it to his mouth and press his lips against the callouses and the veins and the heartbeat underneath. He wanted to trust it to muffle the cries of frustration he was choking on.

He slapped John’s hand away and the sound cracked in the silence. The hurt cutting through the softness Bucky somehow still retained for him hit him louder though, and Gale dragged in a breath so ragged, he hoped it sounded like anger.

Anger he could nurture right now. Not love.

But so could John. Oh, so could John.

Those dark blue eyes sparked angry in the dull light and he muttered low and spiteful, “The fuck is wrong with you, Buck, huh? What’s your problem?”

He couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t tell him despite the words thumping against his chest, beat after beat after beat.

“I ain’t got no problem,” Gale hissed, jaw tense and somehow, miraculously, managing to hold John’s angry gaze with his own. “If you hadn’t been such a child lately, I’d have been able to focus on this properly instead of keeping an eye on you—”

John’s eyebrows met his hairline. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

And before Gale could snipe back John barrelled over him. “Whose the one that’s scrounged up most of your materials for both radios, huh? Do you have any idea what I head to do to get all that? Twice? No. Because youv’e had your head up your ass about something, avoiding me. Keeping an eye on me? Gale? You can barely stand to fuckin’ look at me.”

Gale bit the inside of his cheek bloody trying to ignore the crack of John’s voice, which the older man coughed away with a sneer and a grit of his teeth.

Through the blood and saliva, Gale said, “You’ve been impossible to be around, John.”

Impossible. Because every moment Gale spent near him, it was harder and harder to control himself and remind himself why he couldn’t just have what we wanted, who he wanted, the love he wanted, just this once.

“Like you would know?! What - what did I do, Buck? Huh? What did I do? ‘Cause I’ve been spiralling here, barely holding it together, and the one goddamn thing that has me holding it together is you, and now it feels like I don’t even have that.”

“John-” Gale pleaded. He pleaded, to John, to whatever force, heavenly or otherwise that might listen and bless him this repreieve.

And John reared back in his seat and Gale saw the worst thing he might have seen in this war: defeat settle in the eyes of Major John Egan.

John who whispered thick and sorrowful, like loved ones at a bedside vigil, “That’s it, huh? I did go and lose you to this war after all?” And in the protection darkness offered, Gale saw that John let his eyes fill with grief he wouldn’t quite let spill.

“Why did you go, Buck? What did I do?”

In violent contrast to the softness of John’s grief, Gale sprang from his chair, the wood screeching against the floorboards and grabbed him a tangled, gnarled fistful of John’s shirt. John didn’t fight back; he only reared back in shock and his legs sprawled open to try and keep his balance as Gale stepped into the space between and bent Bucky back at a painful angle over the back of his chair and snarled in his face,

“You made me love you, you goddamn sunnuva bitch.”

And Gale took a full, harsh, selfish kiss all his own. He breathed in sharp at the drag of dry lips which told him that they might be down but they were fightin’ and alive, and he pushed into the heat of Bucky’s mouth and let himself claim one hungry taste of John Egan, before he made his hands, which had somehow come to clutch Bucky by the throat, push him away.

“That’s why.”

And Gale stalked out into the night. Curfew be damned.

He got maybe, half way down the side of their hut, heading for the shadows that would hide him from the goons, before he heard footsteps he would know blind come running after him.

Well. If Bucky was going to retaliate, may as well be now in the dark, in one of the few hidden spaces they had, instead of in front of their men in broad daylight.

John had never been a violent man, but maybe if he decided to smack some sense into Gale, he could knock this feeling out of him.

So when a hand grabbed Gale’s bicep so hard it pinched the skin and he knew there’s be bruises like fingerpaints there tomorrow, he didn’t fight it. He let John drag him further down the gaps between the huts and shove him against the cold and damp wood. He let John grab his neck and the back of his hair, and he didn’t say anything even as the man faltered when he got a look of Gale’s face. What did he see? Defeat? Desperation? The grief that in a few short moments, Buck and Bucky, the most important, defining, greatest relationship of his life would be over, all because he let his control slip just once-

“Then we’re even, you stupid, stupid bastard.”

John slid his hand around the back of Gale’s neck, tightened his hold on the back of his head and hauled Gale up until he was damn near on his toes, and he wasn’t even that much shorter than Bucky, and swept Gale up in his scent, his presence, and his taste.

John kissed him. Out there in the dark, on the precipice where Gale thought he would be expelled from John’s orbit altogether, John kissed him. It weren’t sweet like he imagined John kissed the dames, and it weren’t rough like Gale had kissed him.

John kissed like he was hungry. He pressed full and heavy and kiss after kiss onto Gale’s lips; sucking on his bottom lip, nipping at its plumpness, and when Gale sobbed when John angled his head just so and pulled Gale in even further, John slid his tongue against Gale’s and the shock, the vibrancy, the life it sent thrumming through him had him weak. And John continued to devour. The hand at Gale’s head came under his chin and tilted his head up so John could lick all the way down Gale’s tongue, caress him on the way back up, only to do it all again. Gale’s breaths were short and panting. Was this what is was like to come back to life? When they restarted your heart? He felt his heartbeat, their pulse, in his mouth and it guided him to yank John down and give as good as he got. He swallowed John’s groan down his throat. He finally, oh finally, got a handful of those curls and pulled, and John whined high and pretty and got his hands under Gale’s thighs and hauled him up, just off the ground, so the only thing keeping him upright was John’s body pressing him against the back of the hut and one of John’s thighs which slid between Gale’s own legs-

And Gale had no choice but to break off the kiss with a curse and another tug on John’s hair. “Fuck, Bucky.”

Pressed chest to chest, their heartbeats felt like rapid fire.

And Bucky’s hands, holding onto his waist, and the breaths Bucky huffed into Gale’s ear, and the solidity of his presence slowly lowered Gale back down to earth until his feet touched the ground.

Bucky dropped his head to Buck’s.

Gently, sweetly, he kissed Buck’s crown. “Next time, Buck, save a girl some heartache and just buy me some flowers.”

A little hysterical, Gale snickered into Bucky’s neck. “M’sorry,” he mumbled against the skin. “I just don’t know how—”

John hummed and pulled Gale back by the scruff and dropped his head so they were forehead to forehead. “Me either. But you’re the smartest person I know - when I’m there to get’cha outta your head, at least.”

Gale kicked his shin half-heartedly.

“You and me, Buck,” John said. “Just like I told you.”

And for now, Gale let himself believe.

#clegan #john egan #gale cleven #fic #mota #masters of the air #buck x bucky

66 notes · View notes

bucking-mustangs-with-wings · 2 days

Text

So I done goofed, and my brain wasn't happy until I wrote a sequel to my little Barbed Wire Hearts snippet/ask/prompt thing from yesterday. So here ya go!

@swifty-fox @moghraidhs this is very much for you because we all needed this to happen

I recommend listening to this while reading, it had me all up in my feels while writing this:

Walking into the hospital parking lot and seeing his old beat up red F150 still sitting there, like a silent vigil awaiting his return was almost a surreal experience for John. As much as he would have found the thought ridiculous in any other situation, he'd almost forgotten it existed in the time he had spent cooped up in the sterile environment of the hospital, mind awash with more pressing matters. Coupled with the stress and worry that had oozed from every single one of his pores like a sickness, the outside world other than room number 13 and its occupant was the only thing he had been mentally able to put any real energy into.

Curt and a few of the other boys had stopped by every few days to slink their way into the wing, jeans and boots and cowboy hats sticking out like a sore thumb amongst scrubs and white coats and had brought him a duffle bag of spare clothes and toiletries so he could use the visitor's showers. He'd made it pretty clear in the first days that he wouldn't be leaving any time soon, not even to pick himself up anything to eat (when he could remember to).

Curt had been an angel in that sense, too. He'd brought Bucky dinner a few nights in a row in the fortnight he was there, some cheap takeaway from one of the diners in the middle of town, burgers and such. And those nights he couldn't make it in to check up on things John had very helpfully been informed by one of the nurses on shift that she was to remind him to eat, even if it was from one of the crappy vending machines dotting the hospital corridors at the behest of a very worried friend that had called the front desk. The soft amused smile the woman had flashed his way alerted him to the fact that none of the nurses were bothered by Curt's mother-hen phonecalls. Especially when Bucky hadn't turned his phone off of silent since he'd been there and one too many calls had gone to voicemail. He knew he'd be getting an earful off Curt and the other boys once he had made it back to the grounds, but he also knew he'd be quickly forgiven his neglect, given the current circumstances.

As he got closer to the truck, pulling his keys out of his coat pocket and twirling them around his index finger, Bucky took a quick glance back over his shoulder at the figure not too far behind him, making sure they were still following him.

Buck still looked like he'd been hit by a semi truck, blue eyes cast down to the pavement as he diligently followed Bucky on auto-pilot, bruises still stark over his face, albeit slightly faded now, but still evident. Still sore looking. His left arm was cast from the hand all the way up to his elbow, held up gently in a sling over his good shoulder. Bucky had no doubt the other man could still feel the telltale ache in his left shoulder-socket where it had been popped completely out in the accident, features wincing every now and then if he stepped too heavily and jostled himself.

His blond hair was in a messed up disarray, bed-hair born of two weeks of laying in an uncomfortable hospital bed for hours at a time, sticking up in some places and falling softly across his forehead in others. The nurses had helped him up and into the room's private bathroom the night before and had helped him finally have a shower before he got discharged the next morning, an awkward affair that Bucky knew the blond didn't necessarily want to talk about if the blush that had painted his pale cheeks when prodded was anything to go by. Better than having to be given a spongebath though, by a long shot, and Bucky couldn't have agreed more.

He also couldn't help the small smile that pulled up at the corner of his lips as he raked his gaze over the smaller man's body, taking in the soft grey over-sized sweatpants (Bucky's) tightened as much as the drawstrings would allow around thinner hips, tucked loosely into worn Twisted X square toe boots. A good idea in hindsight when there was no way Buck would have been able to get himself into a pair of his usual jeans with the soreness of the bruising up his thigh and over the jut of his hip bone, matching his face in colour albeit a bit more angrier looking.

The nights were a bit cooler than they were a week or so before, so at Bucky's insistence Gale was also draped in one of John's massive Ariat puffer jackets, only one arm able to fill the sleeves while the other hung uselessly at Gale's side. With the collar pulled up around his ears, John felt a sense of pride and slight satisfaction knowing he was wearing his clothes. Everything but the plain white tshirt underneath the draped layers.

Walking over to the passenger side quickly after shoving the key in the driver's side door and unlocking it, Bucky opened the passenger door and swept his other arm out in a low gesture, a smirk on his face.

"After you, princess," he drawled, delighting in the unimpressed lift of an unbruised brow shot in his direction, but no real heat or disdain behind it.

He patiently waited with the door held open, allowing Buck to gingerly hoist himself up into the truck's cab knowing if he tried to assist in any way he'd get sworn at for his trouble, ever the independent hard-headed idiot Buck often was. Once the other man was seated comfortably, only a few winces and sharp intake of breath painfully hissed through clenched teeth, Bucky carefully shut the door and trotted around the front of the truck to climb into the driver's seat. He gave a double glance into the truck bed at his and Buck's bags he had tossed in a little while earlier before he'd gone back in to help with the discharge papers.

The old truck roared to life without much protest, and he couldn't help the self-satisfied little chuckle that escaped him, patting the dash like the vehicle was a loyal old dog at his heels. As much as he'd nearly forgotten about her amongst the chaos, he was happy to be back behind her wheel, even if the leather was peeling just a tiny bit from sun damage. It added more character, he thought.

He looked over at Gale, noticing the younger man sitting still and almost stiff, eyes zeroed in on the dash but glazed over in thought and what was probably left over sedation from the heavy painkillers he was given. His expression was blank, nothing giving away even the slightest hint at what was running through that pretty head of his, and Bucky felt that telltale tightening in his throat creep up again. But before he let it get a permanent grip, he reached forward, grabbing the black felt hat that had been sitting on the dash since the previous day (thanks, Curt) and picking it up before turning and dropping it perfectly over Buck's head.

The other man flinched in surprise, ripped out of his thoughts and his bright blue eyes coming back into focus as he turned to look at Bucky, a confused frown creasing his brow as he brought up his working hand and felt the hat underneath his fingers. He straightened it a few centimetres, eyes looking between Bucky's in a numb sort of questioning expression.

"My hat," he said dumbly, voice quieter and still that hint of lost that had Bucky swallowing back emotions that he didn't want to put a name to, instead letting a bright smile grow from his smirk in the blond's direction, teeth bright.

"Well, can't be much of a cowboy without your hat now, can you?" Bucky smiled, watching every minute change in Buck's expression like a hawk. He was rewarded with a swooping sensation in his chest when he noticed the smallest grin colour Buck's face, eyes flickering away from Bucky's with a small huff of a laugh to focus out the windshield.

"Don't think I'll be much of a cowboy for the next couple weeks, Bucky," Gale muttered. As if in stark reminder, he winced as he shifted slightly in the worn leather seat, obviously jostling one of the many painful areas littering his body.

"Ahhh come on," Bucky joked, leaning forward slightly to grip the ancient clutch and put the truck into gear. "You're still one of the best cowboys around, even if you are bruised and battered to high heaven."

Gale huffed out another light breath of a laugh, lifting his good elbow up to rest it against the open window, hand and fingers dangling on the outside and tapping a gentle beat against the metal of the door as Bucky pulled the vehicle out and towards the end of the parking lot onto the main road.

The next half hour of the drive back to the rodeo grounds was silent, just the monotone hum of the local radio turned down to barely audible from the truck's old speakers and the quick whoosh of another vehicle every now and then, passing them on the highway on the way back to where they'd just came from. The sun had dipped low enough on the horizon now that the reaching expanse of the county they were in painted a picture through the slightly dirty windshield, sky lit up in oranges and reds streaked through by a few stray clouds.

Bucky would hazard glances from the corner of his eyes every now and then at Gale, who sat still and stoic beside him, chin now rested in the palm of his hand against the window, eyes cast out to the scenery that rolled by. Bucky could tell that under the surface there was something much more sinister and harsh squeezing at Buck's heart and thoughts, spiraling down deep into a void that he worried he wouldn't be able to pull the younger man out of, even if he lassoed him like a runaway steer.

At some point, with a nervous swallow, Bucky reached his free hand out, covering Buck's thigh with the expanse of it, feeling the tension in the muscles and gave what he hoped was a comforting squeeze, gentle and barely there, but a reminder he was right there with him all the same. He counted it as a win when he noticed Buck's face turn to him slightly with a soft smile, eyes very obviously still avoiding John's own before turning back to the view from the window. It had Bucky releasing a long breath he hadn't realised he had been holding hostage in his chest. He didn't attempt to remove his hand, and Buck didn't make any effort to shift out from under it. If anything, he leaned into the touch, knee swinging softly towards the gear stick in Bucky's general direction after a few moments. A silent thank you.

Bucky couldn't help the gentle self-satisfied smile that graced itself onto his face.

By the time Bucky turned the truck off the highway and through the big open gates of the grounds, the sun had dipped that much further underneath the distant mountains that everything was washed in a barely perceivable darkness. What was left of the sunset was slowly turning itself to the deep blue of the night, stars beginning to reveal themselves against the quickly fading orange glow.

As the beam of the truck's headlights lit up the dirt road further into the grounds and towards the still set up camps close by the back of the arena, the familiar sight of gooseneck trailers and camper trailers, awnings folded out and a pit fire settled in the middle amongst them came more into view.

They could see the silhouettes of a dozen people, Curt and Dougie and Brady and the rest all chatting away circled around the fire, beers in a few hands as Bucky slowly pulled the truck to a stop up beside Crosby's trailer. It wasn't until he had turned off the engine, hopping out of the cab with stiff knees and moved around to Buck's side that Curt's voice cut through the night and reached them through the other voices.

"Ayyyy, the great Champion returns!" Bucky couldn't help the grin from painting his face as he looked up, mid opening Buck's door and seeing Curt walking in their direction, back lit up in orange from the fire's warmth and arms lifted above his head, beer bottle in one hand.

Buck had only just planted his boots on the ground with a slightly pained grunt before he was swept up in a happy but very careful embrace by Curt, the other shorter man being incredibly cautious as to which parts he touched, but none the less enthusiastic in his greeting. The curve of Buck's own smile, teeth glinting in the half darkness caught Bucky's eye and he couldn't help the weight that lifted from the centre of his chest.

"It's good to see you, Buck. They finally release you from that hellhole, huh? Thought our good ol' Bucky here was gonna rot himself to that chair by your bed if you didn't get outta there soon."

Bucky couldn't help the bashful way he rubbed at the back of his neck at Curt's words, hoping the slight colour that rose to his cheeks wasn't too obvious in the lowlight when Buck shot him a soft glance from his peripheral.

"Wild horses couldn't drag me away, Curt," Buck joked back. It was light-hearted and jovial, appeasing Curt's attention on him, but Bucky could see that his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. There was a blank faraway look behind those baby blues, and it made Bucky's chest restrict uncomfortably as he watched as more of the boys made their way over. They all stepped forward to squeeze the blond cowboy's good shoulder or shake his good hand, some like Brady and Jack and Crosby mirroring Curt and pulling Buck into a gentle embrace, ever careful of his injuries.

Once they had all made their way over to the fire's warmth, Curt all but forcing Buck into one of the fold out camper chairs in his usual mother hen ways, everyone took their turn updating him and Bucky on everything they had missed while they had been in the hospital. Buck more-so, considering the first almost week the man had been unconscious for most of the time and had missed more than Bucky had.

Curt took a few moments to admonish Bucky like he had expected at having had his phone on silent for nearly the entire time, but Bucky just waved him off with a cocky smirk. He kept glancing at Buck every few minutes, taking note of every small change in the blond's expression, the way he joked with the others, the small smiles and tilt of his chin when he laughed as much as his broken ribs would allow him to in their process of healing. To any of the others, everything was normal, Buck's gentle quiet nature and injuries the reasoning as to why he wasn't quite himself yet, why there wasn't that normal spark in the shine of his eyes. But Bucky could feel the tension, the exhaustion that was more than just from pain and injury radiating from Buck like he was melded with the man's very mind himself. Could see the way he tucked himself further underneath Bucky's jacket every now and then with a faraway look on his face before he made himself more alert to the conversations around him.

Bucky just sat and boded his time, happy to not have to make too much small talk amongst the other boys as the night further darkened and the numbers on his watch got later and later.

When most of the conversations had died down and a few of the boys had retired to their trailers for the night, a few still milling about with the happiness that both Buckies return had caused and talking amongst themselves, voices slightly slurred from alcohol, Bucky stood from his seat against the wheel of one of the goosnecks and shoved his slightly chilled hands deep into his pocket. Making his way over to where Buck was still seated in the camper chair, staring blankly into the fire which wasn't as fierce as earlier in the evening now.

Leaning down, his lips close to Buck's ear from behind he whispered a low "Come on, Sunshine, follow me for a sec. Got something I wanna show ya."

He smirked when Buck jumped slightly in surprise at the sound of his voice so close, obviously so lost in thought that he hadn't noticed Bucky make his way over. Craning his neck backwards so he could look up at Bucky's face, blue eyes trying hard to focus on him upside down, he frowned in question.

"Come on," Bucky repeated, smile soft and obvious as he stepped to the side a little and held his hand out to Buck in an offer to help hoist him to his feet. The blond almost looked like he wasn't going to move, body language hesitant and lips pursing into a tight line, before he sighed and reached out with his good hand, gripping Bucky's offered firmly and allowing himself to be lifted into standing, a small grimace of pain fluttering across his features at his ribs obviously screaming in protest.

Once Bucky was sure he had recovered, he tugged at their joined hands gently, tilting his chin in the direction of the arena with a small smile. Buck looked at him, still questioning in his gaze before he allowed himself to be lead through the cluster of trailers. He didn't drop Bucky's hand, but instead almost hesitantly thread their fingers together. Bucky couldn't help his heart from soaring as he gave Gale's hand a gentle squeeze in silent comfort.

Like second nature he guided Gale out of the gathered maze of trailers, the sounds of the other boy's voices growing further and further behind them until the arena was not far in front of them, only just visible by some of the smaller flood-lights that were still on around the barriers. When they got closer, and Bucky turned towards the holding yards, he felt Gale falter slightly, his hand pulling back subconsciously but he didn't drop their hold.

Bucky looked back at Gale's face, seeing the blond's eyes focused out onto the sands, expression blank but taut like a frayed guitar string on the verge of snapping, and he slowed his stride.

"Hey," Bucky spoke gently, like he was approaching a ready-to-spook horse. When Buck still didn't look at him, he gave their still joined hands a squeeze and a shake, until Gale finally snapped his eyes back to Bucky's. They were wide and had a look of slight fear buried deep behind, flickering over Bucky's face trying to look for some semblance of comfort. Bucky held their gaze for a few moments, both men having stopped in their journey, and waited until he knew Buck was partially back in the present. "Hey it's okay, I promise. Trust me."

Gale's expression was still one of veiled panic and grief for a few more seconds, before he found whatever he was looking for in Bucky's own face and let his shoulders slouch and relax, breath exhaling slowly with a small nod.

With a comforting smile, Bucky tugged at their hands gently until Gale fell back into step behind him, eyes still glancing over to the middle of the arena every now and then like he was seeing invisible monsters advancing towards them.

Bucky could only imagine what was going through the smaller man's head, still often privvy to his own torturous memories and images from the day of Buck's accident no matter how hard he tried to forget and push them back. Every now and then the picture of Gale's face, bright red blood flowing down one side of it and slack in unconsciousness, pale and looking for all intent and purposes dead kept haunting him. But he stamped those thoughts down, focusing instead on the feeling of Buck's thankfully now warm fingers between his own, the slight sensation of his fluttering pulse.

Making it to the holding yards out behind the bull chutes, Bucky carefully made his way through the maze of yards, keeping a firm grip on Buck's hand as the two men threaded their way in and out between metal gates and runs in the dark.

Gale's voice, hushed and urgent, reached him from behind, and the smile only grew on his face. "Bucky I can't fucking see. We're both gonna fall head over tit if you don't slow-"

"Shhh!" Bucky answered back, only pulling Gale further into the pens.

Gale made an affronted noise, mouth parted. "Did you just fucking shush me?!"

"Sure did, now if you'd just shut your pretty mouth and look."

Gale gave his hand a harsh squeeze in retaliation. "Did you forget the part where I just said I can't see? What the hell am I even supposed to be looking a-"

Buck froze in his following of Bucky, the taller man allowing himself to be pulled to a complete stop when Buck's hand pulled against his as the whuffled knicker of a familiar horse finally reached the blond's ears in the darkness.

Bucky turned, facing Buck so he could catch sight of the smaller man's face in the dim light, and he couldn't help the genuine warm smile that split his face, noticing Gale's eyes focused somewhere off behind him, shock evident and an obvious glint of wetness beginning to form against dark blond bottom lashes.

His lips moved silently, stuck on actually producing any noise, until he glanced up at Bucky, brow furrowing into a look of pain. "John.."

"She's been waitin' for you," John said simply in response, still smiling brightly and allowing Buck's hand to drop from his as the blond stepped past him towards the last square pen at the end of the lane.

Almost as if he was seeing a ghost, Buck walked up carefully, eyes flickering over every inch of the palomino mare's body, taking in every inch of her as she walked up to the rails and shoved her head through and pushed her nose into Gale's chest, still murmuring at him. He couldn't help the way his breath rushed out of him at the contact, good hand lifting up shakily until he rested it on the white of her blaze. She nudged at him again, a questioning sort of move and lipped at the cast around his other arm. A silent question of 'what the hell is this thing? Why do you have this?'

Bucky slowly walked up to stand beside Buck, reaching up and resting his arms onto the higher rails in a casual air of relaxtion, and watched, transfixed as Gale just stared at the horse, hand still on her face, the younger's breathing jagged and coming in short bursts. Shock, relief.

After a few more moments, Buck seemed to come back to himself, a disbelieving breath escaping parted lips and turned his gaze back to Bucky. John could see the tears still evident in the other man's lower lashes, glittering and growing and threatening to fall to the dust underneath them.

"H-how..?"

Bucky smiled at him, resting his forehead against his folded arms and looked at the mare in question. "Curt's been looking after her while you were gone. Made sure she was real pampered, 'til you got back and did the pampering yourself."

"But she.. Bucky, I thought she was.."

Bucky chuckled, low and easy, and nudged his shoulder against Gale's. "What, dead? Nahhh, barely got a scrape on her. Tiny little cut just above the front hoof. Vet didn't even have to wrap it."

At John's words it was like a dam broke from within Buck, and he could only watch helpless as the tears gathered in the blond's eyes finally fell down his cheeks in silvery lines as he squeezed them shut, body bowing over at the waist with his good hand braced against his knee before straightening again. Buck tilted his face to the sky for a few seconds, breathing ragged, a barely audible sob hitching from his lungs painfully.

"I thought she broke her neck. God, Bucky I thought she was fucking dead, I thought she'd broke a leg, and she had to be shot. Fuck I- As soon as I woke up, that's all I could... that's all I could fucking-"

John stepped up to Gale, reaching up and pulling the smaller man against his broad chest and held him there, feeling the small tremors that wracked Gale's broken body. He put a hand against the back of Gale's head, fingers threading through golden strands, hat getting knocked off kilter and falling onto the ground.

"Hey, hey, you're okay. Everything's okay. Baby's okay. She's as tough as her goddamn rider," Bucky shushed him gently, resting his cheek against the top of Buck's head and just allowing the other to cry all but silently into his neck. He could feel the air chill the wetness there and looked up to the stars himself and thanked whatever was watching over them that Buck was still here, that he was still alive and able to be held in his arms like this. He felt his own eyes begin to gather tears at the fragility of the man in his arms, and swallowed harshly against them.

Bucky inhaled deeply, Gale's good hand clutched desperately in the side of his jacket, a warm weight sitting there as he pressed his lips into the crown of Buck's hair.

"Think she came out of it a bit better than you did, though," he whispered as an afterthought, lips curving into a smirk when he felt Gale clench his hand into a fist and thump it into his ribs in reply. He couldn't help the chuckle that rumbled in his chest, only slightly moving back so that he could look down at Buck, his smirk melting into a soft smile at the sight of Gale now looking up at him. Tear stained cheeks and lashes clumped together, a defiant glare but with no real malice directed at him, eyes bright and blue and more reminiscent of the Buck that John knew and adored.

Gale's eyes flickered from his down to his lips and back, frown easing into something much softer and more vulnerable, and Bucky thought his heart would explode at the pure emotion he could see mirrored in Buck's irises. His breath stuttered, smile slipping off of his lips and heart thundering like a freight train behind his ribs.

Everything fell into a syrupy slow motion as they stared at eachother, Bucky's hand that had been gently cupping the back of Buck's head slowly slipping around to cup the other man's cheek, slow and careful, thumb sweeping over the sharp line of his jaw in a barely there caress.

He swallowed thickly, noticing Buck nudge into that hold, eyes lowering back to his lips. He felt like his entire world was tilting on its axis, narrowing down to just the two of them standing out in the middle of the stock pens behind the arena where he nearly lost the one thing he had ever truly cared for more than the feeling of being perched up on a raging bull's back. Even riding a bull made his heart thunder less than it was right now.

Carefully, giving Gale the chance to pull away, he sighed, breath ghosting over the other man's lips. "Buck, I-"

"Shut the fuck up and kiss me John before we both die of old age," Gale whispered harshly, good hand that was gripping into Bucky's jacket tugging now and John couldn't help the surprised smile from lifting his lips.

"Sure thing, cowboy," John laughed silently, revelling in the familiar exasperated roll of Buck's eyes towards him before he surged forward and ever so gently pressed his lips against Gale's, eyes closing against the absolutely overwhelming sparks that ignited in his chest like someone had just lit fireworks behind his sternum.

Gale's lips were soft, just like he'd imagined a million times, pliant and warm and so gentle it stole his breath away, and it wasn't until Buck's good hand reached up and threaded through his dark curls that he allowed himself to deepen the kiss, tilting his head slightly. His lips parted, allowing Buck the access to slip his tongue carefully along his own, insistent and starved but always gentle. He could feel the taut guitar string tension like a mockery of earlier in the night behind Gale's kiss, a long awaited hunger like a man starved and then unleashed among all the sustenance he could have ever wished for.

It wasn't until Buck made a small sound in the back of his throat, a small needy gasp that Bucky allowed himself to pull back slightly, letting his lips linger as he allowed Buck a few more soft kisses before he gasped himself, pulling air into his starved lungs and it was only then he realised that at some point he had stopped breathing all together.

Buck didn't chase, happy and content with what had just happened, but still comfortable to stay wrapped up in John's arms, no sign of regret or fear in any way, and Bucky let his eyes open slowly and wander over the ruined and wrecked expression on the other man's face. Kiss swollen lips were still parted, breath huffing sharply, body still trembling but for entirely different reasons than before now, and Bucky didn't think he had ever seen anything more perfect, more beautiful in his life. Nothing, not even winning the PBR in Vegas could make him feel as elated or wonder-struck as this moment right here, having just kissed Gale fucking Cleven in some random rodeo grounds.

Trying for a few moments to catch his breath, Bucky let his thumb graze over Gale's jaw again in a gentle gesture, watching half lidded blue eyes peer up at him in wonder. He couldn't help the breathless laugh that escaped him, forehead bumping against Buck's, tips of their noses touching shortly after.

Baby knickered from behind them, shocking them back slightly into the present and John laughed again, the mare reminding him of something.

"By the way," Bucky panted, grin curving even further "Curt may wanna demand some compensation looking after your girl. He's down one half of an ass-cheek as of two days ago. She's got a nice pair of chompers on 'er."

Buck realed back, shock evident in his eyes and the gape of his mouth. "She fuckin' what?"

68 notes · View notes

toournextadventure · 3 days

Text

what once was mine

Summary: Karlach is back. For good this time. And she just wants to have her love back so they can finally spend the rest of their lives together like they had planned. Things just never seem to go her way.

Word Count: 8k Warnings: swearing, violence, murder, typical BG3/DND themes Pairing: Karlach Cliffgate x Reader

The birds were singing.

It didn’t matter how long Karlach had been out of Avernus. She knew she would never go back to Avernus thanks to the blueprints she and Wyll had found. By all accounts, she was free. And in the end, even that didn’t diminish the sounds of the birds singing in the air around her.

Her life had been idyllic since coming back from Avernus for the last time. It had been nearly two years since she had finished her adventure with Tav and the gang. Nearly two years since she had made the choice - which she had initially regretted but now celebrated - to fight for her life. Now, the rest of the gang had settled fairly close together, living their own lives of peace.

Something about defeating a Netherbrain really took the thrill of adventure out of a person, she supposed.

She enjoyed her days around Baldur’s Gate. At first, she hadn’t been sure if she could emotionally handle living in the city again. It held many great memories, but it also held tainted memories. The ghosts of things she could have had if not for Gortash and Zariel. The reminders of a love she had lost and couldn’t find again.

Those fears had been unwarranted, though, and she was more than happy to be living in Baldur’s Gate again. It felt like home to her, like the place she had been desperately trying to get back to. The entire gang - aside from Shadowheart and Lae’zel, who had settled in a farmhouse outside the gates - had moved in, enjoying their time together. Karlach could have guests. She could have a family again.

But Karlach could never get over losing you. Not when everything in the city reminded her of you. You were in the children’s laughter as they ran down the streets playing stickball. You were in the soft, hushed words someone gave her lover as they sat for tea. You were in the sun on the hottest of days, kissing her skin and leaving her warm and whole.

Gortash had told her about you before she had killed him. He had told her eagerly. She didn’t know if he had wanted to get her angry, or sad, or whatever else. She didn’t really fucking care, all she knew was it was his fault anything had happened in the first place.

“They’re an Oathbreaker now,” Gortash said between gasps for air. “Did you know?”

“Who the fuck are you talking about?” Karlach asked. She wished to just cut his head off and be done with him. She wanted her vengeance.

“Your pup.”

Karlach let the blade of her axe rest heavily on Gortash’s neck as his words sunk in. He was talking about you. And just the thought of something happening to you had her infernal heart roaring. Something had hurt you. Something had hurt you so badly you had broken your Oath. That was sacred. That damn Oath was your life.

“They frighten even me now,” he continued. “You should be proud.” She pressed the axe deeper into his skin. “They’ve gained quite the kill count.”

“You don’t get to talk about them,” Karlach growled.

“Maybe they’ll work with Zariel next,” he said with a sparkle in his eye and a sadistic smile. “It’s not like they have anything left to lose.”

Karlach lifted the axe, let out a guttural scream, and slammed it down on his neck. His head separated from his body with ease before rolling a few feet across the room.

She didn’t feel any better.

Tav had done her best to talk Karlach down from a panic attack, but that only worked so well. Eventually she made sense, saying that she couldn’t help you if she blew a gasket. Karlach couldn’t help but laugh because she was right. The last thing she needed was to overheat and not be able to help you. Wherever you were.

You were her next adventure. Her last adventure.

“I thought I’d find you up here,” Tav’s voice came from the other end of the rooftops. “Astarion said you hadn’t left since last night.”

“I knew he was being a sneaky bastard,” Karlach said with a smile as she pulled her knees up to her chest to make room for Tav.

“He’s worried about you,” she said. “We all are.”

Karlach sighed and rested her chin on her knees. She knew they were all worried. She could feel it in the looks they gave her and the too-soft touches. When they would hesitate, for just a second, before pulling her into a hug or patting her on the shoulder. When they choked on a sentence because, at least in their minds, it was too reminiscent of her hunt for you.

She loved that they all cared, but she didn’t think she could stomach it for much longer.

“Have you seen them again?”

Again. That word was haunting Karlach’s consciousness. It had been more than a few fortnights since she had found you and seen what had truly happened. What you had become after she had been sold to fight a war that she wanted no part in. Since she had more or less abandoned you and her parents through no fault of her own.

Karlach had done a lot of investigative work - which admittedly was really fucking shoddy - before having the slightest clue where you were. It took a lot of schmoozing, a lot of bribing Astarion with good wine, and a lot of talking with criminals before she finally heard of a supposed werewolf attack in the Lower City. Now that she could work with.

Her axe was strapped securely on her back as she stood in the middle of an intersection. It had been a while since night had fallen and the nearly full-moon had risen to illuminate the streets. If she looked carefully, she could see a few rats skittering across the cobblestone and into the sewers. In the distance, she heard laughter from the tavern a few blocks away.

Unless your internal rhythm had changed - and she assumed it hadn’t - you would be somewhere nearby. She should be able to hear the fracturing of bone and the whimpers that accompanied it. Neither you nor Karlach ever knew if it was a curse, a mutation, or you were just unlucky, but you wouldn’t only change on a full moon. You would partially change on almost full moons as well.

In an attempt to make you feel better about it, she had used to call you her special pup. You used to like it.

She hoped you still did.

Her right ear twitched at a sound that she couldn’t decipher. Listening harder, she heard it again. There you were. There was no doubt in her mind it was you. She hadn’t fought her way out of Avernus twice just to not be able to tell you apart from anyone else. Without looking anywhere else, she ran in the direction of the whimpers.

As much as Karlach didn’t think she would need it, she kept a mental note to grab her axe when she found you. If you were anything like what Gortash had tried to claim, she might need to knock a bit of sense back into you. Get you back to that kind soul she knew back in the day. But with each step she took, she got more unsure of what she would find.

Hells, she hadn’t felt that nervous since her first few nights in Avernus.

The sounds of screaming from men was enough to make her really nervous. There shouldn’t have been any screaming, at least not from other people. It should have only been you and her. You and me against the world, darling. That’s what you had always told her before she would leave for work. It should have still been that way.

It wasn’t.

Karlach would have recognised you even if she had lost her mind. You were her person, her love, she would never forget a single thing about it. The barb of your tail, the cut of your hair, the piercings in your ears that you had begged her to get with you. Matching piercings. Now that you were both older, it almost seemed childish.

She nearly tripped over a singed body because she was so enthralled by you. You. That was all it took to rid her of any sense. Gods, she had forgotten what you did to her. How just the sight of you alone was enough to set every inch of her alight. In a good way, of course.

There was an itch that she wanted you to scratch. The itch to feel your skin underneath her fingertips again. She wanted to trace your scars and kiss every random scale you had. Karlach wanted to know if your skin felt as warm as she remembered, or if it would be cooler now that she ran hot instead. And if she let her mind go to far more inappropriate places, she wanted all of that again too.

A strangled cry caught her attention again. Damn, she had gotten lost in you already. Maybe she should have taken Lae’zel up on her offer to accompany her for the night. At least then she wouldn’t be getting quite so distracted. At least not openly. Or maybe she would, she was already getting distracted again.

From where Karlach was standing, she couldn’t see your face. Only the back of your head, the tips of your horns, the clenched fist at your side, the way your ears laid flat against the side of your head. If memory served - and it did - you were at your most terrifying when your ears were tucked. You were one to try and hide any negative emotions, but your ears gave you away. Karlach had always loved it. She was undecided if she loved it in that moment.

In front of you was a man, no older than you or her, perhaps even a bit younger. He was on the ground, trying to scramble backwards away from you. Every inch he moved, you followed, your tail swinging slowly behind you. The words that came out of his mouth were rushed, but she knew begging when she heard it.

She couldn’t see your mouth, but there was a glow to your hand when you lifted it in front of him. If she didn’t want you to kill that man, she had better say something. Quickly. But what could she say? Hey there, long time no see! That would be stupid. Did you miss me? She didn’t think she could handle it if you said no.

She settled for something far more simple.

“Hello, love.”

The magical light in the man’s eyes settled into a dim glow as your own light faded. In Karlach’s mind, she pictured the look on your face. Euphoria. Pure joy that she was back, you could both enjoy the life you had always talked about. Perhaps, if you were truly feeling it, a small tear born from happiness. Her mind ran rampant with images of you running toward her, throwing your arms around her shoulders and holding her so tight you were both of one mind, body, and soul.

It wasn’t what she got.

You turned slowly, and more and more of your face was revealed to Karlach. Inch by inch she saw you. It was like the worst play she had ever seen in her life. She got to see the snarl of your lips ease, turning into something more… pitiful. If you had been anyone else, she would have described it as pathetic. The fist at your side turned into shaking fingers.

The look in your eyes was like a dagger through her heart.

“Karlach?”

Your voice quaked the same it had the night you were bitten. Terrified. Hopeless. Small. There, that was the perfect description for how you sounded. You sounded small. But if there was one thing Karlach had gotten right in her imagination, it was the tear that slid down your cheek.

It just wasn’t happy like she had wanted.

“No,” Karlach finally answered Tav. “I haven’t seen them since then.”

In a move that had always warmed Karlach’s heart, Tav leaned over and rested her head on her shoulder. It was a gentle move, one that had enticed everyone in the group at one point or another. Something that instilled far more calm than it had any right to. And Karlach was falling for it yet again, indicative by the calming of her racing heart. Er, engine.

“You’ll find them,” Tav said softly. “Maybe you’ll find them in the city having tea.” She laughed. “Wouldn’t that be quite the treat?”

Initially, Karlach had laughed. After how hard she had tried to find you the first time, it was a funny thought. To just happen upon you by chance in the city? It didn’t even matter if it was the Upper or Lower, the thought alone was enough to have her laugh. Wouldn’t that be the best luck in the world?

Perhaps it wasn’t so funny after all.

Karlach did find you having tea in the Lower City. Or, not exactly tea, but she caught you having a drink. She had made it a habit to go by taverns in the evenings not to find you, but to relax. Enjoy the scenery and the social aspect of it all. Having drinks alone in her own home wasn’t quite as enjoyable and, honestly, it made her sad.

So of course she had stopped by the Blushing Mermaid. A simple tavern full of seedy criminals and illicit business. There were nightly brawls, horrible songs, shitty people, and stiff drinks. It was some of the most fun Karlach got into since she had informally retired from adventuring. Few places gave her as much excitement as that tavern.

But when she walked into the tavern and looked for a place to sit, she saw a familiar pair of horns and tail. She didn’t think twice before walking over to where you were sitting. A small table for two, and lucky for her, the second seat was empty.

“Mind if I join you?” She asked.

You flinched.

“Not at all,” you said.

She could feel your eyes on her as she sat down across from you. Well, she didn’t only feel it, she saw you watching her. The same way she watched you. Unblinking. Like seeing you was nothing more than a dream, and if she looked away then you would disappear. Or she would disappear, she wasn’t sure what would be more nightmarish.

You locked eyes even after she sat. It was uncomfortable, to feel like you were staring into her very soul. Karlach would always remember your eyes, she had always gotten lost in them. They had the most miniscule light in them, nearly illuminating them in the dark. Not too different from her own when she heated up.

Gods, she had missed your eyes.

You eventually pushed a tankard toward her. “Here,” you said. “You look like you could use it.”

“Thanks, love,” she said, eagerly taking it and downing it. She did need it.

Uncharacteristically, a barmaid came over to the table and leaned against it. She was pretty. Not just by seedy tavern standards, but just in general. There was no reason she should be by the table. Karlach desperately hoped she wasn’t going to get roped into some ridiculous job.

“Hungry, darling?” The barmaid asked you.

Karlach bristled at the use of the pet name.

But you looked directly at Karlach and waited with expectant eyes. Oh. Oh, that gave her butterflies. Some pretty girl called you “darling,” and you didn’t stop looking at her? You certainly remembered the way to her heart, that was for sure. She did her best to push away the, well, other thoughts from her mind.

“Whatever’s hearty,” Karlach told the barmaid who looked none too happy to be talking to her. “And keep the drinks coming.”

“Put it on my tab,” you told the barmaid as she started walking off. She gave you a smile that quickly turned into a scowl when she looked at Karlach.

“The staff know you well,” Karlach said once she was certain you weren’t going to talk first. She supposed she couldn’t blame you.

Only a few weeks ago, you had probably thought she was dead.

“I spend a lot of coin here,” you said. “Talk flows like beer, for the right price.”

“And you’re looking for talk, are you?” She tried to sound flirty. Maybe it was foolish, but she wanted you to flirt back. Even for just one evening, she wished to act like nothing had ever happened.

“I’m looking for the bastards who ruined my life,” you said.

So, flirting wasn’t back in the picture just yet.

“Right,” Karlach said as she sat up straight in the chair. “I suppose that’s worth the coin.”

“And some,” you said softly.

Your left hand stayed resting on the table as you lifted your own tankard to your lips. Karlach cursed the wooden mug. It hid her view of your pretty lips from her. At least it forced her to look elsewhere. Like your hand. There were more scars than she remembered. Little ones ravaging your fingers. She wished she could have been there to kiss them better as they healed.

She wished you would let her kiss them better now.

You both smiled politely at the barmaid when she came around and set the food and wine on the table. The tavern continued to rage around you both as neither of you were willing to make the first move. Behind her, Karlach heard the start of a fight. She desperately wished to watch. Or join in.

“You should eat,” you finally said, gesturing your head toward the warm bread and stew. “Coming back from the dead must be exhausting.”

There it was. Karlach knew it would come up at some point, especially if she managed to get as close to you as she was in that moment. But knowing that it was coming didn’t make it hurt any less. To see the borderline betrayal in your eyes when you looked away quickly, focusing on anything but her.

She reached out to place her hand on top of yours in the best form of comfort she knew. You looked at her hand, and for a moment your face softened. For a moment, there was a small spark in your eyes again. Underneath hers, your hand turned around and pushed up, forcing both of your palms together. Karlach had always loved comparing hand sizes; it gave her an excuse to hold your hand.

The moment disappeared when you pulled your hand back and placed it in your lap.

“I wasn’t dead,” Karlach said softly. She hoped you couldn’t hear the hurt in her voice.

“Then where were you?” You asked, “Because you certainly weren’t here.”

There was no way to tell if you were actually tearing up, or if Karlach simply wished you were. She wanted you to have missed her. Not to hurt, but to miss her touch. To miss her smell, or waking up beside her, or even just being near her. She was desperate to know you had missed her as much as she had missed you.

She wanted you to have loved her that entire time.

“You ready for a long story?” She asked.

You nodded once, and the tale began.

Karlach knew, more often than not, that she rambled when telling stories. A lot of times she would even over-embellish to make the tale more exciting, or make herself seem more brave, more amazing than she really was. Sometimes her stories involved death, despair, and harrowing adventures that only the great Karlach could escape.

This was nothing of the sort. There were no grand theatrics or tales of grandeur. It was simply the truth. How she had been sold by someone she had trusted with her life. How she had fought a battle she wanted nothing to do with, and finally, by some miracle, managed to find a group of people that she genuinely cared about. And who cared about her in return.

You watched patiently. Gods, Karlach had missed your patience. Whether it was for something small, or large, or insignificant, it didn’t matter. When she would come to you, fuming about something that had happened, you had waited patiently for her to finish her rage before talking her through all those feelings. She missed having you to talk through her feelings with. Dealing with them on her own wasn’t as easy.

Although she almost laughed at how wide your eyes got when she talked about the whole tadpole thing.

“You all knew what was going on in each other’s minds?” You asked.

“Yup,” Karlach said, popping the “p” loudly. “Things got real interesting when the feelings started to come out.”

“No doubt you got a front row seat to some rather raunchy nights,” you said with a smile and the lightest laugh.

Oh Gods, Karlach could melt right on the spot just from that sight.

But the smile and laughter quickly died down, and you set your jaw once again.

“Gortash told me you never showed for duty that morning,” you said without any emotion. “Said it right to my face.”

So that’s what he had said. From the moment Karlach had gotten back to Baldur’s Gate, she had wondered what everyone had been told of her sudden disappearance. Had they been told that she had died on the job? That some mysterious warlock had taken control and kidnapped her? Surely he hadn’t told the truth that he had sold her for his shiny new toys.

She hadn’t expected something so… mundane.

“I would have never left without warning,” she said softly.

You chuckled humourlessly. “I knew that,” you said, “and so did your parents.” You let out a deep sigh. “But neither Gortash nor I could offer any proof one way or another.”

The noise of the tavern was more rowdy now that it was getting later into the evening. You were looking out into the crowd, and Karlach saw the strong set of your jaw. The twitch of your ear. She tried not to lose her cool when your tail brushed against hers. Keep yourself calm, Karlach, she told herself, you’re finally making progress. It didn’t help that your tail intertwined with hers and stayed that way.

“And you killed him?” You asked, finally looking back at her.

Angry you was a sight to behold. It got Karlach all hot and bothered.

“I did,” she said proudly. “Even put his head on a pike for shits and giggles.”

“Good,” you said with a nod. “He deserved worse.”

In all honesty, Karlach agreed with you. Gortash deserved worse than death. She wished she could have put him through everything she had been forced to go to. To have him fight a historical war, have him fear for his life every second of every day. Force him to live each day not knowing if the people you loved were safe.

But she didn’t want to be thinking about Gortash. Not that night. She wanted to be thinking of you. To sit with you, and enjoy being in your presence once again. It was a long shot, but she wanted to feel your hand in hers. There had been many years between your last meeting, she wanted to rediscover everything about you like it was the first time.

In short, Karlach wanted to fall in love with you all over again.

“Are you busy in a few nights?” Karlach asked.

Your head tilted to the side. It was adorable. “What?”

“Are you busy?” She asked again.

“I don’t- I don’t know,” you stammered. “Why?”

“Well,” she started, drawing the word out. “I know it’s been, ah, a little while.” She ignored the roll of your eyes. “I was wanting to go on a date.” You kept looking at her. “With you.” Silence. “We would go together.” A twinkle in your eye. “You can stop me at any point.”

Your stunning smile returned. A small smile, one that, in the past, had accompanied trouble. Gods, she loved you. She was willing to put in all the effort necessary to rekindle that romance, but she loved you. Every little bit of you. From the tip of your horns to your toes.

And she very much loved the way your fangs got caught on your lips.

But that smile fell again. Karlach wished she could have a painting of your smile so she could look at it whenever she pleased. You were far more serious this go around. The same air of triviality was gone, replaced with something Karlach wasn’t entirely sure she liked. Something had hurt you. It had hurt you deeply, and she didn’t quite know how to help.

“You don’t want a date with me,” you finally said.

“Oh, don’t say that,” Karlach tried to stop you. “I missed you every moment I was gone.”

“You missed someone who no longer exists,” you said. “That person died with their Oath.”

“You’re more than an Oath, lovely,” she said softly as she leaned forward on the table.

“You miss someone who laughed,” you continued. “Someone who had kindness in their heart and wanted to keep everyone safe.”

Karlach stayed silent.

You leaned forward on the table to match her posture. “I want to catch the bastards who ruined my life.”

“Then I’ll help you,” Karlach said. “If you haven’t noticed, I’ve got some extra muscle to use.”

You shook your head. “You’re not understanding.”

“Then explain it to me,” she said. “Because I spent over a decade away from you, and I’d like to try and get some of that time back.”

“I want to watch the bastards burn,” you said. “And I don’t care who burns with them.”

The very tone in your voice was enough to freeze Karlach to her core. That was an unusual feeling. It was uncomfortable. She wouldn’t dare change her mind, but she had the eerie feeling that you were right. You weren’t quite the same as the person she had fallen in love with in her younger years.

You finally reached out and placed your own hand over hers. Karlach exhaled deeply and looked down. You were touching her. You were all but holding her hand. And she had been right, you ran cooler than her now. It was a wonderful contrast, something that sent a shiver down her spine. Oh, she wanted to feel your hands all over her, holding her tight and never letting go.

“You have a big heart, Karlach,” you said softly. “And I never stopped loving you.” Karlach felt her engine stutter. “I will not taint the very thing I love about you.”

She watched, motionless, as you stood up from the table and walked over to her side. Without the hint of fur, you looked more like she had remembered. Soft, warm, utterly beautiful. And when your lips pressed against her cheek, she wanted to cry. It was one thing to imagine the feel of your lips again, but now that she had it? She would kill to keep it.

“Stay away, Karlach,” you said when you stood back up.

You carelessly dropped some gold on the table, gave her one last look, and left the tavern. Once again, you had disappeared on her. The tavern was full, more full than she had seen in months, and she felt alone. She had watched you walk away again and still couldn’t bring herself to follow you and beg you to stay.

It didn’t take long for Karlach to realise what you had meant when you said you didn’t care who you took down in your journey. At most, it was only a tenday later that she got wind of the explosion at an old abandoned church. The explosion had killed a dozen people, three of them children. Stories made their rounds around the city of a tiefling with scales and dark spells.

Karlach knew in her heart of hearts that it was you.

She tried to catch you in the act. Fuck, she tried for months to catch you. The whole gang had even come together to try and help, keeping their eyes out for any sign of you. The only one who managed to find out part of your intention. When you had mentioned the “bastards who ruined your life,” you were talking about the local pack of Werewolves. Which made sense, as far as she knew, they were the ones who had attacked when you were younger.

The only thing none of them could piece together was your methods. Sometimes they would find the remains of a Werewolf, other times they would find unrelated bodies. How had you managed to continue moving around the city when it was fairly well known that you were, at the very least, a suspect? Did you know, or did you simply not care?

Karlach didn’t know what to do. She knew you were good. She knew you. Broken Oath or not, you wouldn’t change completely. You wouldn’t ruin your life for revenge, that wasn’t in your nature. And even if it was, Karlach believed in you. Nothing could have pushed you that far.

Regardless, Gale and Shadowheart convinced her to have her axe coated in silver. Just in case.

“I think I know where your little killer will be,” Astarion said during their regular dinner at Karlach’s house.

“Where?” She asked quickly. “Are they okay?”

“I believe they’re fine,” he said nonchalantly. He leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the table. “Hells, word gets around the monster world. You should be asking if everyone else is fine.”

“Astarion,” Karlach warned.

“Alright, fine,” he sighed. “There’s a party in half a tenday,” he said. “A large portion of Were creatures are supposed to attend.” He picked something out from between his teeth. “Word underground is your little darling will be there.”

Karlach practically jumped into the seat across from Astarion. He didn’t even flinch; it was rather big of him. Sometimes, whether he intended to or not, he seemed a little wary of her sporadic movements. Maybe it was because he couldn’t predict them, or maybe she was just too loud. She didn’t know. But now, after so long together, he didn’t even budge.

She was so proud of him!

“How confident are you in your source?” She asked.

He laughed. “Darling, it’s not a source,” he said. “It’s coming from a friend.”

“Sorry,” she said softly. “I just want to help them,” she said. “Before they do something they regret.”

It was deeper than that. Hells, everyone knew it was deeper than that. Even Astarion, who made it a point not to see the deeper meanings of things, could see right through her as if she were glass. She didn’t just want to keep you from doing something stupid. She wanted to get back the life she had with you before everything went to shit.

She just wanted you back.

Astarion’s hand was cold on hers, and she looked up to see he had moved closer to offer a rare display of physical comfort.

“How about I do some digging myself, hmm?” He asked. “After all, I am rather charming.”

“Just don’t push them,” Karlach said with a smile. “I can’t guarantee how they feel about vampires.”

Astarion laughed. It was a nice sound. “Lucky for me, I’m simply a spawn.”

It was rather lucky for Astarion. It was only a few nights later that he came to see Karlach, out of breath and uncharacteristically shaky on his feet. You were very much not entirely okay with vampires, but you gave him a pass. He relayed your message - telling her to stay away, as if she would actually do that - and offered to join her at the party.

She quickly agreed it would be best.

Acknowledging that she might need help was a hard pill to swallow. There was no chance, no way in the Hells that she would have to do anything to stop you. She wasn’t foolish, but she knew her worth. If she could just get you to listen then it would be fine. You could both enjoy the party and then ride off into the sunset.

When the evening of the party came around, Karlach felt rather pretty. Her dress was gorgeous and it could hide a few weapons. Beside her, Astarion looked as handsome as always, and they both appeared at the party as if they had been personally invited.

Well, technically Astarion had been, but Karlach enjoyed feeling like she was sneaking in. It was more fun.

The party itself was swinging. All the energy in the air changed the moment Karlach and Astarion stepped into the underground hall. If she didn’t know any better, she would have sworn it was a ballroom in one of the above ground castles. Gods, she was in love with it. The architecture, the people, the energy. She wanted to grab Astarion and just dance the night away.

“Shall we?” Astarion asked as he held his hand out for Karlach to take.

“Oh fuck yes,” she said eagerly.

For the life of her, she couldn’t remember the last time she had had quite as much fun as that evening. Children were laughing, people were talking, the mood was light and airy. Hells, a few kids even asked her for a dance. Her! Could you believe it? She certainly couldn’t, and it was made even more hilarious when they asked Astarion next.

Karlach excused herself for a moment to grab something to drink. Dancing was exhausting, and she was parched. At that moment, she didn’t care if it was wine, beer, or simply water, she just needed a small break. A small drink, then she could get back to the party and have her fun. Gods, she wished you were there with her-

-oh.

In all the excitement, she had nearly forgotten why she was at the party in the first place. It wasn’t for a fun and exciting date night with Astarion, even though she would certainly take him up on the offer again in the future. She was there to keep people safe. To keep you safe.

More children laughed.

Oh boy.

If you were truly around, she needed to find you. She needed to get to you before anything happened, if anything even was going to happen. Her feet carried her around the giant hall, allowing her to look in every crook and cranny for anything potentially dangerous. The entirety of her heart hoped she was wrong and you weren’t there, you were simply upset.

Her mind wasn’t so convinced.

The hope was starting to take over when she approached the final few corners of the hall. There was nothing to be found. No bombs, no barrels, no nothing. Perhaps Astarion’s friend had been wrong and you weren’t there. Wouldn’t that be a miracle? It would give her more time to find you and perhaps talk a bit of sense into you-

“-I told you to stay away.”

Never mind, no time for miracles.

“You know I’m stubborn,” Karlach said as she turned around to look at you. Unlike her, you stayed dressed for business. “You always found it cute.”

“It stopped being cute a long time ago,” you said as you practically stormed off down a hall that Karlach hadn’t noticed.

She followed you instantly.

“Mind sharing your nefarious plan?” She asked once she finally caught up to you. Gods, you could move fast.

“Leave, Karlach,” you huffed.

“You know there’s children up there, right?” She continued.

You pulled up to a stop, and even though she was watching your back, she could see the heavy fall of your shoulders. What were you thinking? Surely you weren’t really going to risk all those people. They weren’t all guilty of whatever you accused them of. It wasn’t possible. This wasn’t you.

It couldn’t be.

“Take your spawn and leave,” you finally said. “I won’t tell you again.”

Karlach stayed frozen in place as you walked forward only a little more, stopping at what appeared to be a book. A… spell book? She didn’t think you had any interest in that subject. You certainly had never shown interest before. Why would you care now?

“What’s that?” She asked as you took a page out of the book.

You sighed and refused to look at her. “A Scroll of Cloudkill,” you answered.

“You can’t use that,” Karlach said.

Her engine froze over when you finally turned to look at her. Your eyes weren’t sad, not really. They were more… resigned. And maybe a little sad. But it was silly, you wouldn’t use that scroll on everyone. It would kill people, you knew that. And you weren’t one to kill people unnecessarily.

“I told you,” you said with a shake of your head. “I don’t care who burns with them.”

Karlach had a moment, only a moment, to make a move. If she stayed there, you would head into the party and kill everyone. She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t allow you to do it, no matter how much she loved you. Something you had always loved about her was her sense of right and wrong.

This was wrong.

She quickly stepped in between you and the hall where everyone was still laughing and enjoying their evening. You were both just far enough away that no one would hear. The look in your eyes changed as you looked at her. It broke her heart. She was determined not to move.

You crossed your arms over your chest and cocked your hip.

“I can’t let you do this, lovely,” Karlach said softly. “They’re innocent.”

“They’re as guilty as I am,” you said.

“Not the children.”

“Not yet.”

Karlach sighed. She had forgotten you were just as stubborn as she was.

“What happened?” She asked you. “What hurt you this badly?”

“Just move,” you said with a shake of your head.

“Not unless you tell me,” she argued.

Your jaw tensed. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Just tell me,” she said. “How bad can it be-”

“-I killed your parents.”

Oh.

It could be that bad.

“It was a full moon and I was distracted,” you said with a quivering bottom lip. “Your parents made the mistake of coming to help.”

No. That couldn’t be the truth.

“I slaughtered them,” you continued with a shaky voice. “Just the same as I slaughtered my own parents.” There was a fire in your eyes.

No, no, that wasn’t true. You had loved her parents. They had loved you. You all made up the happiest little family Karlach could have ever imagined. She had dreamed, night after night, of coming home to have everyone together again. Her family was what got her through all those years alone.

“If they-” you pointed toward the party “-hadn’t cursed me, they would all still be alive.”

Karlach couldn’t understand your words. Nothing was adding up. You had always taken precise precautions to keep yourself and everyone else safe during a full moon. She remembered helping you, ensuring the shackles were where they should be and were tight enough to keep you in place. You would have never done anything to risk anyone else.

“They took everything from me,” you said. “My Oath, my family, my freedom.” You exhaled harshly. “I want to watch them burn.”

You had sworn an Oath of Devotion.

They’re an Oathbreaker now.

You weren’t the same.

Karlach stood taller, reaching for the disguised silver sword she had managed to sneak in. She wasn’t the most comfortable with the type of weapon, very much wishing she had her axe, but it would do. Your eyes immediately went to the weapon in her hand, and your shoulders fell.

“I can’t let you kill them, love” she said.

For the first time in a long time, Karlach prayed. She prayed to any and every god that she could think of. Small and large, good and bad, she didn’t care. She just prayed. Prayed for you to come to your senses and come back to her. Come back to her because she loved you, and she couldn’t bear to see you so hurt.

If she looked close enough, she thought she could see a tear in your eyes.

“Fine,” you said softly. You reached over your shoulder and pulled your own sword out of its sheath. “You’ll burn with them.”

Neither one of you were willing to make the first move. Karlach was smart enough to know she didn’t have her weapon of choice, and hopefully you were smart enough to know she had the upper hand when it came to strength. You had never matched her in muscle, instead opting to be more agile. She remembered when you had spared for fun.

This tainted the memory.

You moved first. A heavy overhead chop. Karlach blocked it easily, and you stepped back. But it was enough of an opening, and she went in for it.

Neither of you had the upper hand. Even from the start, she knew you would be evenly matched in one way or another. Karlach had fought in Avernus, but you had the perks of a Werewolf and an Oathbreaker. And, as memory served, you played dirty.

She clenched her teeth when she knocked you back with a blow to the chest. She had simply used the pommel of the sword, refusing to use the blade. But you looked up and her and mumbled a few words, and Karlach felt something crawl up her legs. Roots. She was stuck.

You stood up and started walking over. “Stay.”

The engine in her chest raced. She couldn’t let you leave. Frantically, she looked around the small room, looking for anything she could use to either get herself loose or- aha! Karlach reached out and grabbed a chair. A quick prayer left her lips - both for you and herself - before she threw it.

The noise you made when the chair hit your back would have been comical if she hadn’t been trying to stop you from committing potential genocide.

The blow was enough to ruin your concentration, and the roots slithered back down Karlach’s legs, freeing her once again. You looked at her once, only once, before turning back toward the party. Now that was just fucking rude. You couldn’t even give her more than a glance after that?

She ran up behind you and, before you could fight back, wrapped her arms under yours and locked her fingers behind your head. You growled; a sound that normally would have gotten Karlach all hot and bothered. Pain radiated through her leg when you kicked out, hitting right above her knee.

Just for that, she pulled her arms higher, lifting you off the ground.

“Let me go,” you groaned between clenched teeth.

“Promise you’ll stop,” Karlach said into your ear. “Promise we’ll go home.”

For a moment, you stopped struggling, and Karlach let herself get hopeful that you agreed. She could get over all of this. She could forgive all of this. It was a simple fight, lots of couples had fights. Sure, it had been building up for over a decade so it was a little… nasty… but it was normal. You could both go home and work it out another way. A sexier way, even.

But her hopes were too high. Again. When Karlach had let her guard down, you kicked out again. Your boot connected with her hip, and instinct had her doubling over to protect the spot. It was all you needed to get out of her grasp and turn back around to face her.

The silver sword was right beside her foot. All she would have to do was grab it, and you wouldn’t be going anywhere. All she had to do was subdue you, and then you couldn’t fight back. You couldn’t get into the party, and you would listen. But she didn’t think she could do it. She couldn’t hurt you.

You turned away from her and, once again, slowly headed toward the party.

A groan left your mouth before the sword clashed to the floor again, quickly followed by the sound of your knees hitting the cobblestone. Blood flowed freely from the newly created wound on the back of your knee. It was a disgusting black colour, not typical of you at all.

Then again, nothing was typical of you anymore.

Karlach limped in front of you and picked up the sword once again. You clenched your teeth and looked up at her in shock. She had hurt you. No, she had made you bleed. She had used silver against you. It would take you months to heal from the wound, and that was assuming things went well.

The very thought made her chest ache.

“You were supposed to be the same when I got back,” Karlach said slowly. “Everything was different, but you were supposed to be the same.”

You stayed silent aside from the occasional groan.

“You know the pathetic part?” She asked. It was a rhetorical question. “If you agreed to go home with me right now, I would forgive everything.”

Something lightened in your eyes. She knew better than to hope for the better.

“I would forgive you for trying to kill children,” she continued. “All because I love you.”

You looked away.

“The thought of you got me through Avernus,” she said. Her hip ached. “The thought of you gets me through now.” She sighed. “Because they may have taken my physical heart, but you’re my real heart.”

“Karlach- hey!”

Pink ropes circled your body and constricted. You groaned when they tightened again. Karlach hadn’t done that. She didn’t even know any of those spells. Footsteps came up behind her, quickly giving way to Astarion; who just so happened to be holding a scroll.

“Stop spewing poetic,” Astarion said, “it’s beneath you.”

“Spawn,” you spat out.

“Mutt,” he shot back.

“Why are you here?” Karlach asked.

“Party’s over,” he said, “The Watch is coming.”

Oh Hells, there was just no room to breathe anymore, was there? She was trying to open her heart to you! She was trying to change your mind! They needed to butt out and let her grieve!

“We need to go,” Astarion said.

She looked down at you. The smallest trickle of blood was falling from your nose; no doubt from the constricting ropes that continued to tighten. If she left you, The Watch would catch you. It was clear everyone knew you were guilty of one thing or another. What wasn’t clear was if The Watch would rather protect you or the Underground.

Oh Hells.

“Come on, pup,” Karlach said as she grabbed you and threw you over her shoulder; much to your protest. “We’ve gotta go.”

“Must we take them?” Astarion asked.

“If we leave them, they’ll turn you in for scraps,” she said after she started walking down the hall.

“I’d turn him in for free,” you mumbled.

You grunted when the ropes constricted again.

“This scroll is glorious,” Astarion commented.

Oh Hells. Karlach was not looking forward to whatever was about to happen.

Well. In some roundabout way, at least she got you back. Some demented version of you, sure, but… Mum always had taught her beggars couldn’t be choosers.

#karlach x reader #karlach cliffgate x reader #karlach #karlach bg3 #karlach cliffgate

87 notes · View notes

vaamins · 1 day

Text

part one.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 : hope you liked this part two. think I could’ve done better 🥹 it was originally meant to be a happy ending but I thought how would hanahaki ever have a good ending? not proofread.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : @creative1writings @rmanji @megumisthirdog @jiupark @rjt017 @slvt4erenx @mistymuii @legbouk @asunalinphea !!

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐖𝐎𝐊𝐄 to pristine white, and a flashing light blinding your vision. You peeled your eyes open, finally registering the horrible ache in your throat that sent stabbing pain down into your chest every time you swallowed.

You only knew of blurred moments and the stark red of your blood. The only memories you could recollect of the night before. The night you had coughed up the whitest flower you’d seen in all your life, and it had come from your very stomach.

For some odd reason, the thought didn’t scare you as much as it should have. It was tantalising beautiful in a way that moved the flesh beating within your ribs.

It was a reminder of the love you would never get. The love you were dying for.

You pulled yourself up into a sitting position, finally taking notice of the room you were in. A hospital room. It’s wall’s so white they were hurting your eyes. You lay hooked to an IV ans countless other machines you didn’t know, and didn’t care for.

How had you lived? The seeding pain that had been in your throat and stomach and chest felt as if you had swallowed fire and were burning from within. You were sure you were going to die, you knew you were going to die. So how had you lived—?

The door creaked open, revealing white hair and blue eyes and a face you knew everything about, but suddenly had become so foreign to you. You had memorised the slope of his nose and the sharp outline of his cheekbones, even the light scar that lay above his right eyebrow one could only see in the dark of night.

‘‘…how are you feeling…?’’ He whispered out, taking a seat beside your bed on the sole chair there. You fiddled with your fingers, twisting the pulse oximeter that lay on your index.

‘‘i’m okay… how are you?’’ Because you had to ask. Because even in your state, you still saw the bags under his eyes and worried for him like a mother fretting over her sick child. Not that you would know much of that either.

Satoru stares at you, then the tubes attached to you and back. His eyes are wallowed in a feeling of sadness you have known all too well. ‘‘…why didn’t you tell us? Shoko? Suguru? Me?..’’

It is ironic to say the least because you know he knows the answer to his own question but he asks anyway. He wants to hear it from your lips, none else, but the regretful look in your eye is too much for him to bare.

‘‘…you know why, satoru. You know why. Don’t… make me say it.’’ You murmur, eyes glued on the view outside the window, watching as the clouds move lazily across the blue sky. It is a beautiful day, you think. One you shouldn’t be suffering on, but when had you ever been able to control the order of things?

Your response is all Satoru needs before he places his white head in his hands, his black shades falling to ground with a clank. The sound reverberates throughout the quiet room in the wake of your answer. You feel sorry. You didn’t want him to grow through such pain and regret.

‘‘…don’t blame yourself Satoru.’’

‘‘…how can I not? When I am the reason you are here? I am the reason you are dying!’’ He croaks out, tears now falling down his cheeks like crystals in the light of the sun shining through the open window. The humming of the machines beside your bed fills your head but still, your eyes are trained on his.

You smile, small and bittersweet. ‘‘It is not your fault Satoru.’’ You grab the hand that covers his eyes, slowly pulling the fingers that dig into his flawless skin away.

‘‘You could not have stopped it. Don’t feel guilty for not loving me back, that isn’t your fault. Now go and enjoy the sun, it’s a beautiful day today.’’

You urge him to leave, not that you want him to leave, no, you would’ve wanted him to stay by your side for eternity but you would never admit that. You wanted him to go and enjoy the day and not be by your doomed side.

He hesitates at the threshold of the door, turning his head back to look at you but you already turned away, your face gazing at the sun, and he wants to say you look magnificent, beautiful as the light falls on your face in just the right places but he decides against it. It would only cause more harm to an open wound. But he count help but feel as he closed the door that there was a certain sense of finality he couldn’t Brian off the situation..

You hear the door click closed, and you feel a pang in your chest. Selfishly, you didn’t want him to go. You wanted him by your side. To kiss you. To show you he loved you like how you loved him but you knew that was a fleeting dream you would never hold onto.

It was sand in your palm and it fell through the cracks between your finger and away, never to be caught again. Satoru was all the colours blended into one at full brightness to you. He was brighter than the sun to you. It was no shocker the room looked so dull after he left.

Later that day, after your friends each individually visited you, wishing you well and health. You sneaked out of your hospital room. The IV and tubes having long been taken off your arms, you walked freely for the first time in hours.

You found yourself on the roof of the hospital, a light breeze passing through the empty place. The night was beautiful, the stars twinkling ever brighter than you’d ever seen them. It was truly a sight to see.

Your eyes were glued on the dark sky, looking and searching for what? You didn’t know but you still kept looking. Maybe it was the hope you had at the beginning of all of this, that maybe you’d get better and somehow be saved, or was it the pain you’d felt from the unfairness of it all.

Suddenly, out of the blue, a cough racked your body, causing you to double over to catch your breath. You hands flew to your throat, as if to ease the coughs you knew would never stop hurting. The pain was horrible, debilitating and you couldn’t breathe.

The sharp ache in your chest intensified as you coughed up something after what felt like an eternity of coughing. Your hand came away from your mouth, stained in deep scarlet.

Lying on the floor was not a flower like how you thought it would’ve been, but two single petals. Even in the darkness, the white of one of the petals was not easily missed. Even from the patches of blood soaking it’s thin material, you could see the colour of snow on the ground. The other petal however, was the darkest black you’d ever seen.

It blended into the darkness and if the white petal had not been lying on-top of it, seemingly glued together by blood, you would’ve never noticed it.

The ache in your limbs intensified even more. The now ringing in your ears was becoming too hard to ignore and the world faded in and out in colours of grey, blue and white. You were so terribly tired.

In more ways than others, you thought as you sat down on the ground. Taking a sharp inhale that only caused you to cause more pain shooting down your chest.

You were so irrevocably tired. Tired of everything. It was no wonder when you lay on the cold surface of the rooftop, your head leaning into its coldness, finding its comfort that when you peered up st the stars, finding comfort in the millions of dots of all colours in the sky, that when you closed your eyes forever, that you closed them eternally.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen #gojou satoru x reader #jjk angst #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo angst #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojo #jujustu kaisen #jjk

79 notes · View notes

enh4doll · 1 day

Text

LET ME LOVE YOU

Sunghoon was your beloved boyfriend, you loved him more than anything, and he was everything to you.

He was also your first everything, your first kiss, first boyfriend, and soon, future husband.

When you came back from work, you were welcomed by a few candles set on the entrance table.

"Baby..?" You call out, and see your boyfriend pop out of nowhere, a big smile on his face.

"Hi my love, how was your day ?" He asks, helping you take off your jacket just like the caring boy he is.

You sigh, and shrug. "Well.. tiring as usual.. you know how it is." You simply reply, before feeling his lips quickly on your cheek, and then already gone.

"Come here, I have plans for us tonight to make you forget about all this stress." He whispers into your ear, before pulling away and taking your hand, leading you into the already prepared dining table.

"Hoon.. you did all this ?" You ask, pouting at his sweet gesture.

"Only for you, my love." He smiles, before making you sit on the chair, and serving you everything he had prepared for you both.

….After dinner….

"Thank you for the food, baby." You smile, tummy full and satisfied.

"You’re so welcome my love." He replies, before getting up and going to the sink, you also get up.

"Let me.. you already did everything else, that’s the least I can do." You say, as he shakes his head and turns around.

"No baby.. go to the living room, I’ll join you when I’m done." He insists, turning you around in the direction of the living room.

You sigh and make your way to the couch, and sit on it, smiling as you see more candles all over the place, you could tell that the night wasn’t over, but you didn’t know what was next, and certainly you didn’t expect what was next.

….a few minutes later….

You see Sunghoon walk back to you, a small smile on his face, you tilt your head.

"Why so happy tonight ?" You ask, and look up at him when he approaches you.

"Nothing.." he giggles, before leaning down to kiss your lips softly.

You kiss him back, as he cups your cheeks, and pull you up, you pull apart, as you maintain eye contact for a bit.

"Sunghoon.." you hum, knowing he had a thought behind his mind, and you needed to know what it was.

"Follow me, baby." He says, holding your hand again, and leading you to your bedroom, he opened the room and revealed your room, it was filled with more candles, some pink rose petals all over the floor, and led lights, the light was dim, yet extra romantic.

"Sunghoon.." you say again, this time, your voice was emotional, almost tearing up.

"Do you like it..?" He asks softly, hugging you from behind.

"It’s perfect, I love it so much.." you say, turning around to hug him properly, as you kiss his neck softly.

"I just wanted to make you feel loved, I know you’ve been extra busy these times with work, and I thought making you dinner and doing this would help you slightly.." he says softly, his hand on your lower back, and holds you closer.

"I love you Sunghoon.." you whisper, before pulling away, and pecking his lips, he then kisses you again, deeper this time.

The kiss goes on for a while, tongues dancing together as he pushes you on the plush bed, you giggle, as he smiles at your cute reaction, trying hard to not show how hard her currently was.

"Sunghoon… i-" you try to speak but you were too embarrassed to admit it.

"What is it, my love" he speaks softly, making you blush uncontrollably. You looked away as he softly grabbed your chin to make you look at him.

"Fine.. I’m kind of… well- uhh.." you pause, realising how ridiculous you probably looked. "Well.. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and maybe.. I’m ready.” You finally say, gulping.

Sunghoon’s eyes widen, but he is quick to reassure you. “Baby.. don’t be embarrassed about it… it’s natural, and plus, I was kind of hoping you’d tell me this tonight..”

"i- really ?" You say quietly, as he kisses you again, lips parted, now a bit harsher, his breathing wasn’t as steady as before, and his hands started roaming all over your body.

"Let me love you, baby." He whispers, as he starts by pulling his shirt down, tossing it to the other side of the room, as he waits for your yes, to undress you as well.

You nod, as he starts to take off your shirt aswell, soon he leaves wet kisses all over your chest, going to your bra. "You’re so sexy." He says, looking up at you.

You bite your lip and smile, you feel him go further down, leaving sensual kisses until he reaches your panties, he pulls them down, revealing your wet core.

You blush from embarrassment, feeling fully revealed to someone for the first time. “You’re already so wet, so cute.” He says, as he kisses your clit, smiling when you squirm.

You hold onto the sheets, your legs automatically closing but he was quick to spread them again, his strong arms wrapped around your thighs. “No baby, let them open.” He whispers.

You decided to behave well and let him pleasure you, since it was your first time, you didn’t know what to do with your hands, he noticed that and looked up at you, his face still in your cunt. “Hold my hand.” He says, intertwining his fingers with yours.

as he starts to flick his tongue on your sensitive bud, you let out a soft moan, making him feel proud to give you pleasure, he started eating you out, enjoying the taste of your wet core.

Soon, he looked up at you, making sure you were alright, before he rubbed his middle finger along your folds. “This might feel strange.” He says, as he pushes one finger in, you stirred in discomfort.

He starts pumping his finger in and out, as you let out soft moans, this get better than you had expected.

After stretching you out properly with 3 fingers, he pulled them out, and kissed all the way up to your neck. “Are you ready ?” He asks quietly, ready to push his pants down and make love to you.

You nod, looking into his dark eyes, he smiles at you, and takes off his pants, along with his boxers, and your eyes widened at his size, he was big, bigger than you had expected.

You look up at him, and gulp. “It won’t-” you start but he cut you off. “Of course it will fit, don’t worry.” He reassured you, kissing your cheek. “Unless you want to stop..” he says, as you shake your head. “No no.. I want you.” You say, making him nod, and smile, his cute fangs poking out when he smiled at you.

He aligned himself at your entrance, looking at you one last time, making sure you weren’t uncomfortable or that you wanted to stop, you give him a nod, and he nods back, pushing in.

You winced a little at the sting, he wasn’t fully in, since he didn’t want to hurt you. He maintained his position, fighting the urge to move, you were so tight, and it felt so good.

After a few minutes of torture for him, you nod, finally feeling confident for him to move. He sighed, finally.

He pushes into you a little more, you were really really tight and for him, it was like entering heaven, so tight, so warm.

“You okay ?” He asks softly, kissing your cheek softly, the fact that even here, he cared about how you felt, that’s how you knew he was the right one, the guy you wanted to keep forever.

You nod at his question, as he pushed a bit further in, you started to feel pleasure, it wasn’t like anything you’ve ever felt before, it was so, so good.

He noticed your soft moans, and he slightly pulled out, to then push in again, not going deeper than before, he wanted to take his time with you, making sure that your first time would be as gentle as possible.

You look at him, and smile. “You can go deeper if you want..” you whisper, as he shakes his head. “Next time, I don’t think you can take it deeper right now.” He whispers back, he wasn’t even halfway in, and you already felt full. You wrap your arms around his neck, and pull him closer, taking in his body scent, the smell you loved so much.

“I’m going to move a bit faster, is that okay ?” He asks softly, as you nod. You look up at him, your eyes locked with his as he started pounding a bit faster, this only making you want him more, it was crazy how you were feeling right now, your whole body was giving into his, and it felt absolutely magical.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, panting at the feeling of your tight cunt wrapped so perfectly around him, he was trying his best not to loose control, but he knew he had to be gentle, at least for your first time, and he knew that for the next time, he would be able to explore more of his fantasies.

“Fuck… baby.” He says, his hands shaking, trying so hard not to pound the shit out of you. You felt him holding back and you felt guilty for not being able to bring him enough pleasure.

“Don’t hold back.. please.” You say, looking at him, he lets out a shaky sigh. “If I don’t hold back, I’ll hurt you… and I don’t want your first time to be remembered as something unpleasant.” He says, as he stops moving, you smile at his worries.

“How about we switch positions, so I can go as deep and fast as I’m comfortable with.” You suggest, as he hesitates. “I don’t know… maybe you could hurt yourself or feel uncomfortable, and then-” he says, as he starts to overthink but you stop him by kissing him.

“Fine… let me lay down then.” He says, as he pulls out slowly, and lays down where you were laying.

He helps you on top of him, as you sat on top of his pelvis, looking at him. “Don’t go down too fast.” He says, as you do as he says, but you wanted him deeper, so you moved down until you couldn’t take any more of him, he was almost all the way in. “Fuck.. baby you shouldn’t have…” he groans.

You giggle as you start moving up and down, he instinctively gripped your hips, helping you ride him. “Feels so good..” you whimper, you could feel him twitch inside you, he felt incredible, he made you feel so good. “I’m so close..” you breath out, feeling your stomach tighten, he pounds into you slightly, helping you to finally reach your first orgasm.

There it was, the feeling everyone was talking about, and they were right, it felt really good, this was the best feeling you have ever experienced.

Sunghoon looks at you, seeing you in pure bliss, and it only drove him closer, until he couldn’t take it anymore and he felt an urge to cum, he pulled out of you, as he came hard on his stomach.

He groaned, still holding onto you, you look at him, and kiss him. “You did so well, so fucking well baby.” He praises you.

—˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

HI EVERYONE, first smut I wrote for this account, I hope everyone liked it, I will be writing more like these, let me know who I should do next !!

Also thank you so much for the support, can’t believe I hit 1K+ in just a month, so so grateful for you all ♥︎

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen smut #enhypen #sunghoon smut #sunghoon hard thoughts #sunghoon hard hours #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon

126 notes · View notes