#extended campfire content

[thevellaunderground]

The Post-Apocalyptic Soundscape of "Stalker 2: Heart Of Chornobyl"

1. Setting the Tone: Stalker 2 is set in an alternate history where a second Chornobyl disaster ravages Ukraine. The hauntingly beautiful yet desolate landscapes of the Zone come alive through its soundscape. The game’s ambient music, composed by Alexey Omelchuk, mirrors the eerie silence of abandoned buildings, rusted machinery, and overgrown forests. It’s a symphony of decay and…

[nectardaddy]

LIKE YOU ALWAYS DO . . . stanley snyder + reader

ᝰ warnings/an : suggestive (17+), gn reader, written in 2nd person (you/yours), smoking + drinking, crude humor, situationship between stanley and reader, pre-petrification, hurt/comfort also kinda angsty?, summertime sadness vibes, not edited we die like men

The summer heat died down to a humid stickiness in the evening that clung to you. Everything was muggy, and mixed with the alcohol in your system, it all felt a bit too much. You stood on the back porch of a mutual friend, who extended an invitation to a quaint campfire - like old times, before everyone grew up - to get away for a moment.

“Ah- I thought you were passed out in a bush somewhere.” The voice made you turn, and you chuckled. Even in the summer night, you could tell it was the familiar blonde from silhouette alone, the man who came and went with the tides as work called him away. The one that was a bit closer than the others, who stuck around without a label - closer than a friend but too far to be a lover.

You chuckled, “thanks for coming to check twenty minutes later.” He saw him shrug as he neared you; he had a bottle of whiskey in his hand, the cap long gone as sips turned to gulps and he teetered on his feet.

“Looks like you'll end up in that bush first.” He wore a bitten back smile at your words, something he desperately tried to hold back but to no avail. The closer he got to you, the more the smell of cigarettes lingered; it was comforting, almost, despite how it mingled with whiskey and cheap cologne.

You watched him sip from the bottle again, by now, the contents of it was warm - you grimaced. “Probably,” he mused. “How much you wanna’ bet it'll be that one right there?” He pointed to the shrubbery adjacent to the porch, bottle still in hand, and you laughed.

“I think it'll be that one,” you humored him and pointed to the farthest one you saw. He snorted. “Pretty soon, you'll start running around here, you always do. We need to get you a leash when you drink.”

“Kinky,” he chuckled, “I'd probably be into it.”

The man wasn't a stranger to crude jokes or a harsh vocabulary, often coloring his sentences full of them. But even still, it made your cheeks feel hot, “I didn't know you were such a freak.”

His lips pulled into a tipsy smirk before putting the bottle to his lips again, “you should know that better than anyone,” spoken into the bottle before he titled it up and drank from it.

“Shut up,” you swatted at his arm and heard him chuckle after he swallowed. The whiskey was strong, you could smell it on him as he shifted next to you, and you wondered how he was still standing.

There was a momentary lapse in conversation, not awkward but charming, listening to crickets and cicadas that buzzed in the humid air. You turned your eyes to the night sky and leaned against the banister of the porch, as did he. It was a quiet you both were used to, both had grown accustomed to occupying each other's space in silence. It felt nothing but natural.

There was a flick of a lighter, and sharp sound cutting through the chirps the night time gave, and the man groaned as it didn't light. Again, again, and again before you heard a huff as he gave up. You looked over to him, a cigarette hanging from his lips that he drunkenly struggled to light.

You took the lighter from his hand and ignited it on the first try, all it needed was a relatively sober touch. He cursed under his breath when you smiled, but you held out the flame to him nonetheless.

He breathed in and you put the lighter in your own pocket like always, furthering the year long argument between the man of being a lighter thief, but he didn't notice. “What would you do without me, Stan?”

“I'd be fiending for a cigarette,” spoken through smoke as he breathed out. You motioned for him to pass it to you, and he rolled his eyes. “If you put it out I'll scream.” But he gave it to you anyway, like he always does when you ask.

It's menthol, you taste it the moment you put it to your lips, and you sighed. “These taste like shit.”

“Then give it back, freak.”

You pulled anyway and let the smoke fill your lungs before you passed it back, “how long are you here?”

He kept the smoke between his fingers as he looked over to you, a drunken smile plastered on his lips. You smiled back. “Couple weeks. But I've been thinking-”

“Never a good sign,” you teased.

“This one's a good one,” he chuckled, “I say I go awol and we run away together. Like in those shitty romcoms you make me watch.” You could see it in his eyes that he was a few sips away from blacking out, you didn't know if he really meant the words he said but it made your stomach do flips regardless.

“So you do pay attention to them?” You nudged his shoulder and you felt him shuffle to stay upright, “where would we go then?”

He put the cigarette between his lips again, “wherever you want,” he shrugged. “Just get me out of these fuck ass cities, ‘too much noise, and too many people.” You watched the smoke flow with every word, but there's a hidden sincerity in them that strikes a cord. He always hated the city, and talked about how much happier he'd be in the middle of no one, with no one to bother him. Always with you, and always when he was drunk.

“Got it, no cities.” You took the cigarette again, plucked from his lips as he shot you a glare. “You're pretty fucked up, y'know?”

“Says who?”

“Says me. You turn into a sap when you're drunk.”

He said nothing in return but leaned into you after a moment, pressed himself behind you and let out a chuckle. He's warm against you, his skin scorching hot from liquor, and his breath tickled your neck. You wanted to say it was unexpected, that you tensed up; but you relaxed into him and leaned back - like you always do.

You gave the cigarette back to him, almost burnt down to the butt, and he ashed it before putting it to his lips once more. “You wanna’ come over tonight?” The question is asked to you in almost a whisper, smoke hitting your ear and making you shiver.

“Just so I can take care of you in the morning? Hard pass,” you teased. You heard him grumble. “If you want me to, sure.” Your relationship with the blonde wasn't linear, having an eb and flow like waves as he came and went from your hometown. But it was simple with Stanley, a companionship that was easy, something that made your heart swell with every fleeting touch.

You took the bottle of whiskey from his hand and took a sip, he watched as you grimaced at the taste before handing it back to him. “Only if you want,” you felt him hum, “but I'll watch those shitty romcoms with you if you do.” You agreed, like you always do, and you felt his arms wrap around your sides. But once more, he lifted the bottle to his lips and sipped, and let out a laugh afterward. “You weren't wrong y'know? About the leash.”

“What?”

“You gotta’ fucking catch me if you wanna’ come over.” 

@megapteraurelia @tiredafbruh @shortcakebaby @tsukisangel @knightofwands-upright

[twola]

Went a bit more existential with this one.

Holy

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

You’re beautiful there, spread out on his cot.

Of course, he thinks you’re beautiful everywhere - in the light of the morning sipping coffee; in the golden afternoon as you’re sneaking treats to his horse. In the sparkle of nightfall, where the stars and campfire dance in your eyes.

But here, here, is where he thinks you’re most beautiful. Utterly bare and chest heaving in his cot, the low light of the lantern illuminating the curves and divots in your skin. You’re beautiful here, in the midnight hours, completely his.

Your sweat-dotted skin and tousled hair, pebbled nipples and the dewy sheen of wetness that he can see on the dark hair that shrouds your cunt.

You are the most beautiful, holy thing he’s ever seen as you open your legs farther, smiling up at him as he leans above you, stroking his needy cock as he situates his knees on the sides of your thighs.

If he believed in prayer he would say one in this moment, guiding himself to you.

He presses the weeping head of his flesh against the petal like skin of your folds, rubbing through them as your breath hitches. He collects your arousal on himself, breathing through his nose as his hand grips the base of himself.

A breathy gasp from your lips reaches his ear as he presses the head of his cock through the rim of your cunt.

He cannot help but to watch how your teeth sink into your lower lip, your eyes squeezing shut as he splits you, as he parts you and his flesh enters you.

You whimper as he continues his journey forward.

Another inch.

If there was a god, he must not be but too pissed with Arthur - not with the way he’s feeling now, not with the way the vice of your cunt feels on the head of his cock - wet and warm and so goddamn tight.

Another inch.

Your eyes flutter open as you grow used to his intrusion, and he swears you bat your eyelashes I almost a coquettish manner up at him. Christ, the power you have over him when he’s inside you - you could demand of him anything and by God’s sake, he would do it for you.

Another flighty breath escapes your lips and he cannot help it anymore. He is but a simple, sinful man, and he snaps his hips forward to completely sheath himself within your cunt. Your eyes widen and you whimper again at the movement.

The curls of the hair at the base of his shaft press against your clit, making you shiver, his pelvis flush against yours.

He’s spread out atop you, all twitching muscles and weather-beaten skin. You’re small beneath him, sunken down in the cot with your legs spread wide ‘round his hips.

Your breath comes out in a gasp as he settles himself over you, one elbow keeping the bulk of his weight off of your frame.

He stays still, his flesh within yours, reverent at the intimacy of it all. That you would allow, nay, want him in such a way. That you would choose a man like him to bury himself inside your body. That you would choose him, of all men, to touch you and feel you and climb inside the most special part of you.

The wet warmth of your core makes him shudder, succumbing to the feeling and shutting his eyes as he lays upon you, burrowing his forehead into the curve of your neck. Your arms wind around his neck, your slender fingers gently twining through the short ends of his hair.

His chapped lips press against your neck as a contented sigh escapes you. God, he could stay here forever, draped over your supple frame, all of him holstered inside you - warm and tight and wanted.

“Arthur…”

He grunts softly as he presses up on his elbow, hovering above you to catch your gaze.

The flush in your cheeks is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Your lips spread into an infectious smile that he cannot help but to return.

He swears, for all of the sinning he has done, and continues to do, that some heavenly deity has extended some kind of mercy upon him. For here, tangled up in each other, sheathed so sweetly inside you, this is the closest to heaven that a man like him could hope to get to.

[kybercrystals94]

Gift Wrap by @lonewolflupe

This gift is for @totallywizard07 — you requested the Batch camping with a healthy serving of fluff ☺️ Thank you for being a wonderful part of this fandom community! You are fantastic!

The Last Island Wolf

Read here on Ao3!

Rated: G | Words: 745

@galactic-gift-gathering

“...and they say,” Omega concludes, leaning into the glow of the flickering firelight, “that the spirit of the last island wolf returns every full moon to search for the one who claimed him, the man with dark eyes.” 

Silence disturbed only by the crackling laughter of the campfire follows for several long moments before Crosshair retorts, “That is the most ridiculous story I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s a Pabu classic,” Omega argues with a smile. “I hear it everytime I go camping with the Hazards.” 

“But it’s not true,” Wrecker says, and after a beat, “Right?”  

Omega shrugs. “Maybe. I mean, there have been sightings over the years. Unexplained shadows and noises. Lyana even said that one night, Shep woke up because he felt hot breath on his face. But when he opened his eyes, nothing was there.” 

Crosshair huffs and rolls his eyes. “That’s a load of kark.” 

Hunter stands up and stretches his arms over his head, looking out into the darkness beyond the perimeter of their camp. “Good story, Megs. I don’t believe a word of it, but it got the job done. Wrecker’s scared.” 

“I am not!” Wrecker protests. 

Omega laughs. “Don’t feel bad, Wrecker. It scared me too until I realized that the island wolf doesn’t come for dark eyed girls. You boys on the other hand…” 

“But wait, I only have one dark eye,” Wrecker says, “So I’m safe too, right?”  

Omega considers, looking up at the star scattered sky. “Mmmm…that’s true. I guess only Hunter and Crosshair need to worry about it, then.” 

“Oh, yeah, I’m shaking in my boots,” Crosshair drawls and Hunter chuckles. 

As the Batch settles in for the night, Crosshair realizes that this is the first time he’s been out camping without someone keeping a watch shift. During the war, someone always had eyes on the camp. And after the war with the Empire, it was protocol, although he’d never been able to fully sleep with anyone but his brothers keeping watch. Now, they are on Pabu. There are no threats, no reason for someone to stay awake alone for hours. He’d gotten used to it in their house, with four walls and locks. Camping on the other hand…

“You alright, Cross?” Hunter asks, and it sounds sincere until he adds, “Scared the island wolf might get you while you sleep?”

Wrecker laughs and Omega giggles. 

“Absolutely petrified,” Crosshair snarks, turning over in his bedroll to face the woods, but he smiles when the comment gets another burst of sniggering from his siblings at his back. He is happy they feel safe here, that his brothers seem secure in the fact that they can all just go to sleep.

He wishes that such security extended to himself as well. 

Crosshair listens to their breathing even out, listens to the fire crackle and snap hungrily, listens to the wind in the treetops. He watches shadows stretch in the moonlight and dance in the firelight. It is peaceful. It is safe. He even has his firepuncher nearby, just in case this is all an illusion. But it’s not, this is their new reality. Safe. Content. Home. His eyes feel heavy, and he wants to sleep. But he can’t seem to allow it.

“Cross?” Hunter’s voice is soft, groggy. “You still awake?” 

He almost doesn’t answer, pretends; however, Hunter is impossible to fool. Kriffing enhancement. 

“Yeah,” he says, rolling to his back. 

“Why?” 

“Dunno.” 

Hunter hums. “I think you do.” 

“I’m not tired,” Crosshair lies. 

Hunter sits up, props his forearms on his knees. Crosshair watches the movement out his peripheral, keeps his gaze skyward. Hunter mutters, “It feels strange not having someone on watch, doesn’t it?”

Crosshair hides his surprise behind a retort, throwing Hunter’s own joke back at him. “Why? Scared the island wolf might get you while you sleep?”

Hunter’s voice curves around a grin. “Maybe.” 

“Hmm.” Crosshair swallows. “Me too.” 

Or a Separatist, or a clanker, or the Empire…

“I’ll take the first watch,” Hunter says, decidedly. “I’ll wake you when it’s your turn, and you can start early meal.” 

“There’s no need for a watch anymore,” Crosshair reminds him.

Hunter shrugs. “Well, someone’s gotta look out for that island wolf…”

Crosshair smiles. “Right.” 

Silence falls between them, not empty, but an unspoken acknowledgement. Hunter has always had the uncanny ability to know exactly what his brothers need, whether they admit it or not. 

Kriffing older brothers. 

But thank the Maker for them.

END

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[amorgansgal]

A Quiet Evening

Finally posting part 6 of my fat female tav/reader x Gale fic! I'm still not quite pleased with how it ends, but I think I would spend months rewriting that over and over again and still not be satisfied. So it is what it is. I hope you all enjoy! I think I might leave this as the last one.

Fat Female Tav/Reader x Gale

CW: Sexual content, oral sex, penetrative sex, some reference to suicide

It filled your mind. Every time you saw Gale or had a quiet moment to yourself you would think about the charge Mystra had given him. Every time you all ventured out into the shadow curse lands, trying to get closer to Moonrise towers so you could find out more about Ketheric’s immortality and invulnerability, you felt like you were choking. And it wasn’t on the dark, ever present shadows that made the atmosphere heavy and gloomy. A tight thorny vine had wrapped itself around your heart and lungs, making it difficult to breathe and you wished you could claw it out of your throat. But it felt impossible to even talk to Gale about it. He seemed so determined to act like nothing was wrong, even though you occasionally caught the melancholy behind his eyes at times. You were so wrapped up in your own concerns, both for him and undoing the shadow curse, that it was sometimes days when you would share a kiss. And even then the kiss was distracted and half-hearted. It was no longer the passionate storm that left you clinging to him. You missed him, but you were so fearful about loving him again if it was all for naught, if in just a few days or weeks he would do as his goddess bid and destroyed himself to stop the Absolute.

You kept meaning to talk to him more about it, to beg him to reconsider, to tell him that you selfishly wanted him to stay alive, because he meant the world to you and you didn’t want to face the world without him, that you both had already lost so much time to mistakes and fear that it wouldn’t be fair to lose him entirely when you’d had so little together. That Mystra was content to let him throw his life away, but you cared about him so deeply that you feared the wound he would leave in your life with his departing would never heal.

Now you were trudging back to camp, tired and drained after a long day in a strange, dark hospital and Astarion had been clever enough to convince a mad surgeon to let his creepy, deranged nurses practise on him, rather than on you all. Then when you found a lute within the hospital and realised it belonged to the flaming fist who was lying in the Last Light Inn, still muttering his strange song about Thaniel, you had to return to the inn and been fortunate to revive him from his cursed slumber. You insisted on rest though, even though Halsin wanted to find Thaniel while he was lost in the shadow curse. It would keep for one more day and you were keen to see Gale again.

When you finally reached the campfire though and warmed your cold fingers, you could see that it was not Gale who was waiting by his tent, but his simulacrum. You frowned in puzzlement and approached it, wondering why Gale hadn’t just written a note for everyone to read if he needed to go somewhere. You approached it apprehensively.

“Good evening!” the simulacrum cried, rather exuberantly. “I am here on behalf of Gale of Waterdeep. He wishes to extend to you an invitation for a private conversation in a more suitable locale.”

This was even stranger. Why couldn’t he have just asked you for a private conversation in person? Why was he making his simulacrum do it instead? You almost felt tempted to say no and that whatever Gale had to say he could say it when he got back to camp. But you supposed you were too curious about it to deny him and also you felt a bit bad for being so moody and sullen, but it was harder now to feel cheerful or good about anything.

“Very well, where is he?” 

The Simulacrum beamed and gestured to a path that curved round the riverbank. “Simply follow yonder path and soon you will find him.”

You nodded. “I’ll be there soon, if you can tell him that. I’m just going to wash off and change.”

The simulacrum gave a rather flamboyant bow and you wondered if Gale had intended for his copy to come across that way or if it had caught wind of his more excitable, extravagant side. It made you smile for once, and you quickly washed off in the nearby river. The air was still cold and you wrapped a cloak around you, before following the path along the river and into the forest. It didn’t take you long to see your wizard, sat on the ground, his arms outstretched towards the heavens, little flickers of the weave floating through the air and as you came near him you could see he had conjured up a galaxy of shimmering stars. 

The sky was bluey-green with streaks of purple overhead and for a moment you were mesmerised by the sight, until Gale turned to look at you. He lowered his hands and leaned back, and you headed over to join him. You sat down and were rather surprised to see the dark, intense look in his gaze, it instantly brought you back to your academy days when he had begged to let him have you. You quickly looked away, though you could not deny the rush of desire you felt at his keen look or the hot flush on your cheeks.

After a moment of silence, Gale began to speak, “I love this time of night. There’s an almost reverent silence that accompanies the peak of darkness, when you’d almost believe the dawn would never break… The cradle of eternity, the timelessness of lovers, that most beautiful of fantasies.”

You had lifted your head to look up at the sky again and caught his eye once more. That intent look had returned and he was watching you, as though you were the beautiful stars overhead, the most incredible wonder he could conjure up. You bit you lip hard, struggling to come up with anything to say. He sounded so poetic, so caught up in the magic, that you didn’t want to disturb it. You wished you could rest your head on his shoulder, but you felt strangely nervous.

He smiled softly at you, almost wistful, and continued speaking, “The curse is still present of course - just veiled and at arm’s length for now. Not a trick I can repeat often, but tonight? Tonight is different. This may be my last night alive, I wanted it to be under a canopy of beauty and wonder. I thought this place might bring me peace. I thought it might make the weight of what I must do feel a little lighter… but I am not so sure.”

You sighed heavily and clasped your hands together over your legs. “I still refuse to believe that,” you insisted. “There has to be another way.”

He laughed quietly and reached out to tenderly stroked the curve of your ear, making you shiver at the touch. “I am always grateful for your dogged determination and I know I was so lucky to meet you again, to get to hold your hand and kiss you again. I had thought on it, very often when you left, hells even with Mystra-”

“You don’t have to lie, Gale,” you said quickly. “I won’t be offended that you forgot about me, especially when you were with-”

Gale scowled, though it was still gentle and playful. “I’m more offended that you think I would lie at all. I often thought back on it, wondering if I could have done something different and it was the first time I got in trouble with Mystra… I unthinkingly compared your kisses in my head, forgetting she could easily delve into my mind and read it like a book. She was not best pleased.”

“I don’t think I was a very good kisser then-”

“Well, neither was I, but I liked that about it. It was messy, desperate, passionate,” he glanced at you and smiled wickedly. But the smile gradually drifted away and he stroked your cheek again. “One moment with you could sate me for a lifetime and prise the fear from my heart. I know this is all unreal but I created it for you. You must know that you’re… you’re very special to me. If things were different, if I had not been a complete fool at the academy, or even if I had but I got to meet you again in different circumstances, then I’d have taken time to do things properly. To say it all better. But time is short.”

He sighed heavily, then looked up at you again. “I’m in love with you. I don’t think I’ve ever stopped loving you.”

Your breath caught in your lungs at his confession, at his deeply longing, earnest gaze and for a moment you just sat there dumbfounded, until Gale shifted, his eyes flickered between desire and fear. “Sorry,” you breathed out.

“Sorry?” he questioned. “You’re sorry you don’t love me or you’re sorry I love you?”

“No!” you said with a laugh, a rush of swirling emotions had taken you by surprise, you were torn between joy that he had confessed to loving you, that ever clinging fear he would still do Mystra’s bidding and destroy himself in order to earn some petty form of forgiveness, anger that she had asked it of him, regret that you had lost so much time, and love… deep, overwhelming, deliciously sweet love for him, for this man who had been inspired by you to conjure stars. “I love you. I love you more than I could possibly ever say.”

He smiled. “Well that’s a relief. It would be a shame to keep up my habit of making an ass of myself!” He got to his feet, then offered you a hand and helped you up. Gale drew you close to him. “I want it to be perfect - to bond with you in the way that the gods do… intertwining our spirits in visions of the weave.”

He sounded so excited, yet you hesitated. You loved him, wholeheartedly, and you loved magic and you loved his excitement when he spoke of magic. But strangely you didn’t want visions and illusions and the weave or Mystra or anything else like that, you just wanted the man before you. You wanted the warmth of his hands on you, the feel of his lips on your neck.

“Gale, I just… can we make our first time just with us? No magic, no illusions or visions, just us.”

He looked staggered by the idea, as though you had utterly thrown him. “Are you sure? I could conjure up any sight you could dream of and a few you could not. I could use the weave to make us feel sensations beyond reckoning. I could do more than woo you, I could wow you.”

You raised a brow. “I think I remember your attempt to both woo and wow me.”

“Ah… well it wouldn’t be like that. I like to think I have become more considerate since then.”

You came closer to him and kissed him. He let out a small moan as you did, his arm wrapped around your waist and tugged you even closer till you were pressed against him. His lips trailed down your cheek and neck. Gale lifted his head, looking almost drunk and dizzy with love for you and you instinctively smiled at the half-lidded gaze and his messy hair. “Are you sure?” he asked again. “You just want me? Ordinary Gale?”

“You’re still extraordinary, but yes, that’s all I want.” 

He smiled at you, his thumb still rubbing over the back of your hand and he almost looked apprehensive, as though you might run off all over again. You looked down at the rough blanket Gale had brought with him to sit on. And while you were all for sticking to mortal pleasures, you figured you could both do with at least some comfort and you would allow yourself one bit of magic. You gestured with your hand and conjured a bed. It looked rather strange in the forest, with plush pillows and blue-grey covers, but Gale’s eyes glimmered with excitement. 

“A very good idea,” he said. 

You suddenly felt rather bashful about him seeing you. He’d seen your most intimate parts, but you had kept your top on. Perhaps if you could just undress as quickly as possible and climb into bed, he wouldn’t see all of you. You turned away and began to work on your corset.

“Uh… what are you doing?” he asked.

“Undressing.”

“Don’t I get that pleasure?” he wrapped an arm around your waist, halting your efforts and gently pressed kisses against your neck. “We might only have a few more nights together, but I want to take all the time in the world with you. I want to unwrap you, treasure you, make you feel like the goddess you are.”

You let out a small snort of contempt. “I’m no goddess.”

“Yes, you are,” his hands cleverly worked at the laces of the corset and finally freed you from the confines. “I would know.” He cupped your breasts through the linen shirt you wore and he let out a small groan, teasing your nipples into hard little buds and making you bite your lip hard to stay quiet as a little spike of desire rushed through you. He turned you to face him, cupping your face and kissing you, then tugged off your shirt. You instinctively put your arms over your chest. Gale frowned and tutted, then pulled your arms away.

“You’re too beautiful to hide away,” he murmured as he lowered his head again to kiss your cheek and necks, his teeth nipping at your earlobe and making you gasp. You clenched a fistful of his hair in your hand and couldn’t help leaning back so he would keep kissing you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, and you wondered if he’d have the strength to hold you up if you were getting so weak at the knees.

“Gods, I’ve thought about this for years,” he said. He let go of you, suddenly frantic and desperate, he made quick work of your breeches, then pulled off his own shirt as though he couldn’t bear the thought of waiting for a single moment. You climbed onto the bed and turned to face him, you thought about wriggling under the covers, but he was already crawling over you. You felt rather shy about touching him, he was so handsome. All lean muscle and firm chest and a little trail of hair that ran down to his groin. You quickly brought your eyes back to his face, your cheeks warm even though you hadn’t done anything wrong. Gods, you were acting like you were still your 20-something virgin self! You’d seen a cock before and felt Gale’s hardness pressed against you many times, but actually seeing it- you hadn’t expected it to be quite so long. 

“It’s just as well you wear a robe,” you said and could’ve cursed yourself for coming out with something so fantastically stupidly, that you wanted to immediately dive under the covers and hide away forever!

Gale stopped, a wicked smile on his lips, his body hovering over yours so you certainly couldn’t hide even if you wanted to! “Excuse me… are you saying I’m well endowed?”

You covered your face with your hands. “Please, don’t tease me… it’s been a long day and I wasn’t thinking.”

He tugged your hands away from your face and ran his hands down your body. A battle of desire waged war with the age old feeling of shame and discomfort at your soft, fat belly and the rolls around your waist. You still struggled with the idea that he might find you in any way desirable. 

“For a woman who is so very smart and intelligent,” he said, pressing kisses down your body, until he reached your thighs, “Some of my favourite moments are when you’re not thinking and just say whatever’s in your head.”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“Admittedly, part of me does want to crow it from the rooftops, but I shall not tell a soul that my love thinks I am impressively girthed!” He gave your thighs two loving kisses. “I have dreamt of your thighs, how tight you had them wrapped around my head, the sweet noises you made.”

He slipped his arms underneath your knees and opened you up to him. His eyes darkened on seeing your slit and you clenched your hand tightly to stop yourself from covering it up. “Let us see if you still make those same noises or if they have changed.”

All had been forgotten, you were at sea, adrift and awashed in pleasure, no longer caring about your size or if Gale found you desirable or if he still longed for Mystra. His tongue was magic, it had to be, the way he could so easily draw you to the peak and keep you there, tantalisingly, achingly close, and you were a mess, begging and pleading and gasping for pleasure. You occasionally caught glimpses of his smug smile, but he would swiftly return to his work. You could feel him rutting against the bed and heard his moans, and the thought of him being so utterly turned on by your own pleasure, by the taste of you, by the warmth and weight of your thighs made you utterly desperate to cum.

“Gale please!” you cried. “Please let me cum, please, I’ll do anything!”

He raised his head, his hair sticking to his forehead, his mouth and beard drenched with your slick, a brilliant smile on his lips. “Anything?”

“Gale!” you howled.

“I think you’ve earned it, you can cum, my love.” He buried himself back between your thighs and fiercely sucked and licked on your clit, slipping his fingers inside your aching, needy cunt that clenched around the digits tightly as you unravelled and the waves of unrelenting pleasure made you moan loudly, uncaringly at the stars overhead. 

You caught your breath back and Gale slipped up your body, his cock twitched against your dripping slit. He kissed you, that desperate, heady kiss of him wanting you to taste yourself on his tongue. 

“You’re still utterly delicious,” he murmured, he was instinctively rolling his hips, his cock becoming slick with your desire and you could feel how easy it would be for him to slip inside you. Though you saw a flicker of concern in his eyes and he stilled, gripping the cover tightly in one hand. You gently cupped his face, stroking his cheek. “We can stop, if you want,” he said.

“What?” you asked, still a little delirious from the wonderful orgasm he had just wrought from you.

“We can stop, if you’re not comfortable or would rather not… I remember last time, I remember…”

“Gale,” you soothed, kissing him. “Forget what happened in the past. We’re both here, we both want this, I’m not running away again.”

He smiled, relief flooding his face. “Good,” he said, and his cock easily slipped inside you, making you gasp at the sensation. Gale whined and buried his face against your neck. “Fuck, you feel good.” He took a shuddery breath and raised his head. “I won’t lie, it’s been years and…” he couldn’t even finish his sentence, he groaned again and sharply inhaled. “I haven’t lain with anyone or touched myself… because of the orb… so I can’t promise I’ll last long, especially because you feel so, so good. And I’m sorry if-”

You wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down into another kiss. “Gale, just have me, you’ve already given me pleasure and I just want you. This doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to be you.”

Gale smiled, his hands stroking down to your thighs and gripped them. “I will try to make this perfect, all the same.” He thrust in slow and deep and let out another tight moan. “Gods above you feel perfect.” He lowered his head to your breast, lathering the breast with kisses and then enveloping the nipple with his warm, wet mouth, sucking on it till the tight feeling in your belly was too much to bear and you wriggled against him, though he would not let you go. 

He clung onto you, as though you might melt away into the bed, but soon the self control he had slipped and he pressed your legs wider, thrusting into you furiously, his mouth everywhere, your breasts, your neck, your jaw, your lips. You breathed him in, he smelled like home, like Waterdeep, bergamot and sage and roses and books and the seasalt air. You gasped as his hips smacked loudly into yours and he frantically kissed you, as though he would swallow the sound. He pressed his forehead against yours and looked into your eyes.

“I’m close.”

You kissed him, tasting his mouth and teasingly nipping at his lower lip. “Come inside me.”

He let out a tight moan and buried his face against your neck, you groaned as he bit down hard on the flesh and felt him cum deep inside you, his hips still grinding, the last few weak thrusts, until he stilled and breathed hard. 

Eventually, he slowly raised his head, his expression so full of adoration and happiness that you smiled in turn. Gale kissed you and carefully moved off you. You rolled onto your side to look at him and he smiled, his fingers trailed down your face to your shoulder, he entwined his fingers with yours.

“Thank you,” Gale said. 

You laughed a little at that and he kissed you again. “I wish I could stay awake with you forever,” you murmured, feeling sated and absurdly happy. Gale curled up next to you, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, gently nuzzling kisses against your shoulder and neck. 

“We need to sleep, it’s been a long day, doubtless it will be a longer one tomorrow,” he said.

Despite how much you wanted to stay awake, a deep, sweet, dreamless sleep called to you and for the first time in weeks you felt utterly peaceful and content, safe in Gale’s arms.

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

The Mumscarian Murder Cannibal AU [Part One]

Hey there. So, this one gets dark. @angeart and I have been cooking this au for some time now, and I felt like sharing it.

Initially inspired by this oneshot from Ange, the AU follows serial killer Scar and very normal citizen Grian, with Mumbo coming into the AU later along with some other hermits. I suggest taking the content warnings for this one seriously.

Content Warnings: kidnapping, murder, torture, cannibalism, manipulation, self-harm, gun violence, illness, injury, horror, major character death (not of the main trio), minor character death (random unnamed characters)

Part One [you are here!]

Grian likes to think of himself as a fairly ordinary person. He lives alone, in an apartment just a little ways downtown from the city centre. He works in an architectural firm, but mostly works from home, only popping into the office on occasion to say hi to his coworkers - who mostly double as friends.

One of his few out-of-work friends is Scar, who has recently convinced him to go camping in the woods over the long weekend. Now, Grian is not a fan of nature. He complains the whole time - setting up the tent, gathering wood for the campfire, and so on. But he also has a big stupid crush on Scar, so he agrees to try out his favourite hobby. Whatever.

The problem starts, really, when they go out hunting on the second day of the trip.

Grian doesn't get the best night's sleep, bothered by insects and dirt and sleeping in an uncomfortable position that leaves his back aching. When Scar brandishes a hunting rifle and says they're going to practice shooting, Grian wants to curl up and die. He would rather throw himself off a cliff than shoot some deer in the head - probably missing and extending its misery.

But again, he has a stupid crush, so he says yes. They stalk out into the forest, further than Grian feels comfortable. He asks Scar if they can go back, but Scar brushes him off, and Grian drops it because he doesn't want to look like a wimp. After a certain point, there are no more paths. Grian swears he sees a sign warning hikers to turn back. The forest gets all overgrown and impossible to navigate. Grian stings himself on nettles more than once.

It's miserable. Scar is in his element.

He's heard, in passing, that there's a part of the woods that is forbidden, no one's meant to go there. He's heard that people go missing - they fall into ravines or get lost or maybe wolves eat them, whatever - they never come out once they go in. And, hell, Grian is a paranoid guy. He asks Scar if they're anywhere close to that patch of woodland.

Laughing, Scar waves his hand. "G, we're not even close! You sure don't know a lot about the forest, huh?" And it's enough for Grian's racing nerves to calm themselves a little.

It's not long before they spot some deer. A few large animals grazing in a little clearing. Scar crouches, then hands the gun to Grian, telling him to get on one knee, and showing him how to hold the weapon. It's not comfortable, holding such a dangerous thing with no knowledge of how it operates, but Scar makes it seem less scary, taking Grian's hands in his own to guide them to the right spot.

Foolishly, Grian tries to savour the moment. Scar's body pressed against his own, his warm hands manipulating him into a proper position... it's as close as they're ever going to get, so long as Grian keeps acting like a coward.

When everything looks correct, Scar moves away and tells Grian to aim at one of the deer. Careful, now, don't overthink it. Just breathe. Stay calm. Be ready for the noise, it's pretty loud.

But before Grian can shoot, there are shouts from the foliage nearby. The deer scatter immediately. Scar swears, snatching the gun from Grian's hands, knocking him to the floor in the process.

A group of campers, three of them, rush out from the bushes. They wield foraging gear - knives, shears - and their faces are painted with anger. One of them points at Scar.

Suddenly, they charge ahead. Two go for Scar, one for Grian. And Grian is stunned. Confused, terrified, he shouts at Scar. What's happening? Who are they? But Scar doesn't answer. Instead, he raises his rifle, and shoots.

The first camper is struck in the head. Grian screams, shuffling back in the dirt until he hits a tree. Scar just killed someone. He just killed someone. Someone is dead. Their brains are all over the floor.

And there's two left. They're still attacking. Still running towards Scar and Grian. It was self-defense. Self-defense. Of course. Okay. Right.

Another shot. The second camper pursuing Scar falls. Grian can't take his eyes off of the bodies, still twitching as life drains away. He feels like he's going to be sick.

There's still a camper rushing Grian. They're upon him in seconds, seemingly unaware, or too hyped up on adrenaline to notice, their friends are dead.

They slash at Grian with a hunting knife. The long blade glints in the sun. He leans away. His heart beats in his ears. It barely misses him. They raise their arm. Another swing catches his cheek, drawing blood. Grian closes his eyes. Thinks this is it. This is where he dies.

A shot, loud, echoing through the trees. The final camper falls to the ground, dead. Their blood sprays against Grian's clothes. Some of it gets on his face. In his mouth. He's frozen, staring wide-eyed at the corpse.

Silence, for a moment. Dead, complete silence. Not even birdsong through the trees.

"Wh- who were they? Why... what did they... Scar?" Grian can't pull together a full sentence after that, whole body trembling as tears start to build up in his eyes, the crash of adrenaline washing over him along with the horror at what they've just done. Scar is somewhere behind him, the body in front, Grian in the middle.

It's like the whole world stops moving. Grian's shaking breaths threaten to turn into sobs.

He hears Scar sigh. "They were probably mad about what I did to their friend." It's said so calmly, so nonchalant, that Grian doesn't register the words, for a moment.

Then it clicks. "What?" he says, frozen in fear. There is something burning against his back, some phantom sensation like he knows he's being watched. He knows Scar has a gun pointed at him. He doesn't even need to look.

Scar is pointing a gun at him. Scar is about to shoot him. Click.

He runs.

Scrambling to his feet, Grian runs for his life through the dense forest, each step pounding against the moist ground. His breaths catch in his throat, chest heaving, fear spiking through all of his senses.

Terror. A gunshot.

A bullet grazes past his feet. He screams. Sobs. Chokes on the sound. Stumbles, but keeps running, dodging roots and trees as best as he can.

Something in the back of his mind tells him he should weave in a zig-zag pattern. Like he saw on TV once. But he can't. He can't do anything but run. Faster. He has to be faster. How does he outrun a bullet?

Scar is laughing. Or he imagines it.

Then, another gunshot. It rings in his already aching ears. Panic explodes from his rib cage.

Everything happens so fast.

There's a popping sound. A pain in his ankle. Shocking burst of fire.

He's falling. Crashing to the ground. Putting his arms out to break the fall.

And the world goes dark.

---

When Grian wakes, he's disorientated. In the dark, inside, the smell of damp invading his senses. Something - maybe an old tap - is dripping, little watery sounds echoing around his buzzing head.

He's tied up, bound by rope to a chair. His ankle hurts. But it's a dull pain, something nonspecific.

Looking down, he discovers it has been bandaged, but he's bleeding still, deep red staining the white fabric. From the strange numbness, he figures he might be on painkillers.

When he remembers what just happened - how Scar just turned on him - he starts to sob, hyperventilating. Why would Scar hurt him like this? What did he do to those campers' friend? Where did he take Grian?

Is he about to die?

His thoughts spiral as he struggles to breathe, pulling against his bindings to no avail. It's unclear how long he's left like that, before a door creaks open, streaming light into the room.

A light switch is turned on. Grian finds himself in a hallway, next to what could be a door to a garage, the kitchen somewhere to his right.

Scar stands in front of him, self-important smirk on his face, and a bowl of stew in his hands.

And, see, Grian is not stupid. He knows there is a greater than zero chance that this stew is made with people. It makes sense: creepy cabin in the woods, crazy serial killer, bowl of mystery meat. These things scream cannibalism, and he's not about to find out if people really do taste like chicken.

Scar is very, very insistent that he tries at least a little. He crouches next to Grian's chair and tries to spoon-feed him. Grian tries to bite his fingers and Scar laughs at him as if it's the funniest thing in the world.

After a while, Grian concedes to the killer, chewing a bit of a vegetable in the stew. Then Scar seems satisfied, putting the bowl to the side and levelling his gaze.

He tells it how it is. Scar is a killer. He does it for fun, and for the artistry of the kill. He's always been this way, and yes he does eat them, most of the time. As he explains himself, with all the casual cadence in the world, Grian finds himself getting increasingly nauseous.

"Just- just make it quick, okay?" he finally stutters out, interrupting Scar in the middle of a long rant about how to make the most of human remains. And to that, Scar looks almost surprised.

He smirks that terrible smirk, white teeth flashing under dim lights. "Oh, Grian, I don't wanna kill you! I want you to join me!"

Oh. Oh no.

Grian shakes his head, horrified, as Scar goes on about how Grian is the only person he's ever felt anything other than a hunter's instinct for. The only person he's ever truly loved. And if Grian stays they'll be so happy together, no one will ever be able to hurt them...

Then Scar tells him to think it over. He's going out hunting (and Grian knows, then, he doesn't mean for deer) and he'll be back later. And he leaves, keeping the light on for Grian's comfort.

There is nothing comforting about it.

---

It is an hour later that Grian's ankle starts to really, truly hurt again. The sharp burning buzzes all over, centring on the bleeding, broken part of him. His feet are bloody too, shoes and socks removed while he was unconscious.

If he moves his ankle, his vision starts to blur, and his stomach flips. So he keeps it as still as he can, ignoring the mess of dried blood coating his skin.

Two more hours, and there is a noise. A garage door stuttering open. Grian doesnt see Scar when he's hunting, but he hears what happens in the aftermath.

He hears Scar dragging a live victim into the garage, which is only one wall of seperation from where Grian himself is kept. Hears how Scar speaks and jokes in the same way he always does, talking and talking and never stopping. Hears the sound of metal scraping against stone. Hears the thud and crack of bones being broken. Hears the poor camper scream and beg. Hears them cry out in pain and anguish. And eventually hears wet choking sounds as they drown in their own blood.

The thing that upsets Grian the most is how Scar hasn't changed. He's still the same person in the way he speaks to the victim, with the same silly jokes and oddball personality that Grian knows. It just hammers home the fact that Scar has been doing this for who-knows-how-long and Grian never noticed. He's not some secretly evil monster using that personality as a mask, he is still the loveable, silly man Grian fell in love with, and a ruthless killer at the same time. Those identities just arent seperate.

They never were. That's the part that frightens Grian the most. The fact that he really did trust Scar, and love him, while the entire time he was killing innocent people in the woods somewhere.

That somewhere is here, and Grian has to get out.

He's been tugging at his restraints for hours. Ever since Scar left. To give him credit, they are sturdy. Thick rope that makes Grian's wrists bleed. But his legs aren't bound, and after hours of struggling, he's made progress.

Progress enough to slip one hand out of the restraints. Then the other is easy work. Scar is still cleaning up. He can hear the sound of running water and the slick thud and scrape of a saw cutting through meat.

He can see the front door from here. Just around a corner and down the hall. It's not far. He can make it.

Putting pressure on his ankle is agonising, but he has to get out. He has to run. Has to find society and tell someone and get out.

It's dark outside. Autumnal. Could be snowing, even.

Anywhere is better than here.

Grian steps quietly, painfully, to the front door. He's surprised to find it unlocked.

Pause. His hand on the door handle. Listening. Scar is humming to himself in the garage, completely unaware.

Okay.

Right. He opens the door. So quiet. Not even a creak.

And as soon as he slips out, bare feet making contact with the icy ground, he runs.

---

[part 1 of ?] [to be continued...]

[operationslipperypuppet]

fic masterpost!

(in no particular order and with shorter summaries than the ones attached to them on ao3)

My Home is in Your Arms (series):

The Void of an Absence - Moonshine has a plan on hand immediately following Cobb’s death. She wasn’t expecting Hardwon to already be gone.

how to think about you (without it ripping my heart out) - In the years Hardwon is gone, Moonshine takes up a habit of writing him letters with no intention of letting him read them. With the exception of the one she writes upon his return. (a 5+1 fic)

Fools Rush In (Idiots, However, Take 200 Years) - A missing scene from part 2, the conversation Moonshine and Hardwon have about the contents of her last letter to him.

I’ll Sweep You Off Your Feet When I’m There to Stay - Hardwon teleports from Malscurial to Kord’s Great Hall and sees his favorite people in the world for the first time in three years.

Burdens of Best Friends - Cobb tells Jolene he will be joining the Boobs on their quest in the Astral Plane, asks her for a favor, and says goodbye.

Campfires, Tales, and Home - While traveling with Callie and Sol, Hardwon shares a story of his adventures and what he considers to be his home.

The Wheel of Joy - You are an orphan who has heard tales of the former Titans of Bahumia, people who were said to one day become gods. You’re not sure you believe it, until one of them gives you power in a moment of great need. And then you learn how tied to the world they are as you use this power to help people in great need.

my words will be your light (to carry you to me) - Right after arriving in Kord’s Great Hall, Hardwon and Moonshine steal a moment in a quiet place. They don’t have a ton of time, but they make it count.

Better Dreams (and Days) Ahead - After nearly losing his life to save Maw Maw and the Crick, Cooter heads home. But then Jolene visits, and asks him for a favor.

A Promise of Hope is Enough to Feel Free - Immediately after returning to the Crick from her extended stay in Gladeholm with Lucanus, Jolene turns toward Cobb with some concerns about what is to come. He has some choice words about this affluent headmaster and his “stupid little friend”.

darling we’re all a little splintered and battered - Hardwon returns to the Crick, alone, to retire. But before he can start his new life of isolation, he has to talk to Mee Maw.

you are my sweetest downfall - Melora feels Aryox fall in the fight with the paladin of Gruumsh sent to steal the Ice Knife, and gets there as fast as she can. Unable to save him, and upon hearing his last moments, her power surges to protect him and his sacrifice from the world.

Knowing - When the Crick names a new Mee Maw, she is offered to pick a confidant to receive powers of Sight by Melora. For Jolene Cybin, this person was Cobb. He used his gifts well.

no version of me i would rather be tonight - After sending off Duck Team, Aryox accepts his fate of living in that cave as a spirit forever. Melora asks him to come home instead.

i’d give you my lungs so you could breathe - Cobb doesn’t fear death. He embraces it as it comes. But he does do a couple quick things first.

but the ocean reaches past these ghosts and i will always sail for more - Jolene tells Hardwon his kid, Big Bev, has been captured by the Sapphire Scale. Despite hearing that there are people going to handle it, Hardwon goes looking for him.

the right time - Erlin has many conversations about marriage that lead him to think about marrying Beverly through the years. And eventually gets to act on the idea.

and that’s it for now! i will reblog and add more as i write more, but here they all are.

[mrs-gucci]

Fireside

{ clyde logan x female reader }

anon

A fun sexy bonfire would be fun, maybe with some exhibitionism thrown in? With Flip or Clyde or anyone you think please! :D

warnings. SMUT (18+ ONLY), slight exhibitionism (high risk of being caught), oral sex (m recieving), light dirty talk, cum in mouth.

word count: 1.19k

★ written for sextember 2023 ★

** CLICKING “KEEP READING” MEANS YOU UNDERSTAND & ACKNOWLEDGE ALL OF THE WARNINGS LISTED ABOVE AND ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, YOUR CONTENT CONSUMPTION IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY. MINORS DNI. **

collage by me :)

When Jimmy and Mellie extended an invitation to you for the Logan family annual camping trip, you were honored. You and Clyde have only been dating for about four months, but everyone agrees that you two have something really special.

So when the day rolls around, you and Clyde pack up the car and drive up to the campsite. Everyone's already there when you arrive, considering you two got a bit of a late start due to...special circumstances, aka you two being unable to keep your hands off each other.

Clyde insists on setting up the tent while you sit with the family and start getting to know everyone. It's immediately clear that you fit right in with everyone and soon enough, you've got some hot apple cider in-hand and you're cracking jokes with the group.

Soon the sky turns from blue to orange and the Logan boys begin building the campfire while everyone else gets things ready for dinner. Once it's cooked, the lively conversation continues well into the night, with plenty of laughs and stories shared between everyone.

Most of the family ends up back in their tents by ten, but you, Clyde, Jimmy and Mellie continue chatting for a bit longer. For some reason, you're starting to get really touchy. Because you're looking at Clyde in the yellow glow of the fire and he's just looking so, so handsome...

He looks over at you when he seemingly catches onto your mood, offering you a small but knowing smile. The cool metal on his prosthetic hand comes to rest on your thigh as Mellie and Jimmy start to wind down for the night.

As soon as they're in their tents, you're leaning over and pulling him in for a kiss. He chuckles against your lips, flesh hand resting on the side of your face.

"What's up with ya tonight?" he asks when you pull back slightly to catch your breath. "Don't think I didn't notice your wanderin' eyes. now."

You smile, looking up at him. "I just think you look very handsome this evening."

"Handsome, huh?" His eyebrows raise slightly as he gives you another kiss. "'n that's all that's got you all riled up? You ain't thinkin' about anything else?"

Your smile widens to a not-so-subtle grin.

"I mean, I had a few other thoughts..." you hum, getting up and climbing onto his lap. "Like what we did this morning."

Clyde hums, his hand resting on your hip, stroking your clothed skin gently.

"Oh yeah? What've ya been thinkin' about in particular?"

You kiss him deeply, then let your lips fall to his jaw, then his neck and throat, mouthing and nipping gently along the way.

"Thought about how good your mouth felt on me, how fucking good you are at eating my pussy," you hum. "Aaaand I thought about how lucky I am that I'm the only one who gets to take your big, thick dick inside of me. Mm, and finally, I thought about how I never got to repay you for making me feel so good."

He lets out a shaky breath as you slide down onto your knees in front of him, hands smoothing over his thighs. Clyde looks around at the tents, then back down at you.

"Honey, I dunno if we s-should..."

You lean in and press a very gentle kiss to the forming bulge around his crotch, your warm breath wafting over his crotch. "I mean, I can stop if you want me to. But everyone's asleep, baby, and you know I can make it quick."

His nostrils flare and his jaw clenches slightly as he tries to keep himself mostly composed. He brings his hand around to cradle the back of your head, gently pushing you down, indicating that he'd like you to continue.

Your lips turn up in a small smirk as your hands make quick work of his pants, pushing them down enough to be able to pull his length out.

The air is starting to get a bit chilly, but the fire crackling behind you helps. You hum, wrapping your lips around his tip, teasing his head before sinking down further and beginning to suck him off. Clyde grunts softly, hips rocking up instinctively and fingers tightening slightly in your hair.

"Mmm, Christ," he groans quietly, looking down at you as you bob up and down on him. "Lookit you, my p-pretty girl, mm, makin' me feel fuckin' amazing..."

You smile around him, then begin to go a bit faster, earning you a low groan from above, which only spurs you on more. Clyde's having a very hard time keeping quiet and finds himself looking around every time he makes a noise, making sure he didn't clue any of his family in to what's going on.

There's something so nerve-wracking but incredibly thrilling about this, getting a blowjob out in the open, with some of his family members sleeping only a few hundred yards away. Luckily, deep sleeping runs in the Logan family, so he's pretty confident that no one will catch you two.

And there's also the fact that he's incredibly, incredibly close to orgasm and it's only been a couple minutes. You just really know how to push all the right buttons.

"Oh honey, i-if you keep this up, I ain't gonna last much longer," he breathes. "Mm, you're too fuckin' good at this."

You pull off for a second and replace your mouth with your hand, looking up at him as you briefly catch your breath.

"You can move, baby," you breathe. "Use my mouth, I want you to cum."

Clyde growls softly and holds your head firmly in place as his hips begin to thrust up into your mouth. He loves when you let him take control, he loves that you trust him enough to let him do this.

"I'm gonna cum," he says quickly, breathing heavily through his nose, lips pursed as he frantically pushes you down and thrusts up at the same time. "Ohhhh I'm gonna cu--"

His orgasm suddenly hits and he lets out a long, low groan, hips jerking slightly with each spurt of cum. He makes sure you take every last drop you've earned from him before letting you go, leaning back in his chair to catch his breath for a moment.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and catch your breath before standing up again. Clyde quickly tucks himself away, then pulls you onto his lap again, kissing you deeply, sighing at the taste of his cum lingering in your mouth.

"Fuck, darlin', you're incredible," he says in between kisses. "I...I love ya."

Your eyes widen and you pull back, looking down at him. That's the first time he's ever said it to you. You smile widely, then take his face in your hands, thumb swiping across his cheekbone.

"I love you too Clyde."

He grins from ear to ear, then kisses you again, continuing to do so for a few minutes before the two of you put out the fire and head back to your tent.

****

sextember taglist: @rynwritesstuff @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-zimmerman

if you'd like to be tagged in future sextember works, please let me know via comment on this post or the original sextember post!

[theres-a-body-here]

Ghostface with Creep!reader Part 2

Ever since you and Danny made your little movie, it went without saying that you two were now a couple

And he's pretty clingy

Like a cat

In between trials he lays his head on your lap at the campfire

Like he owns it

Arms behind his head along with a loud content sigh

He glances to make sure the other killers are watching

"Babe, you're sooooo comfy"

The others either roll their eyes or groan

He chuckles and then rolls over to press his face into your stomach

"Mhhhmmhhmmmhhh"

You let him move into your realm since he never had one

(Think Haddonfield but sunny)

You give him the tour

"And this is where I filmed Jenny's death. She screamed a lot"

"That's hot babe" camera flash

You show him your home

Or at least the Entity's recreation of it

He looks around as you stand proud

There's a long pause

Silence fills the air

"Hey wolfie......your home blows ass"

You slump

siggghhhhh "I know"

Danny helps you spruce up the place while you're at a trial

"Trust me babe, I know what I'm doing. I once killed a interior home designer"

Returning from your trial, you step into the realm once more and enter your "home," the place where Danny had undertaken the task of redecorating. As you take in the changes, you're surprised to find that he's actually done a good job. Furniture has been shifted around to create a more balanced layout, and paintings adorn the walls, adding a touch of life to the otherwise eerie space. You notice it's some of Carmina's work.

You can't help but wonder if he "borrowed" the artwork, considering his........Danny-ness

However, your gaze lands on something that doesn't quite fit the rest of the decorations. A wall adorned with Polaroids depicting his past murder victims catches your attention. It's a stark contrast to the rest of the aesthetic changes he's made.

"Damn it, Danny, the composition is all wrong," you mutter with a hint of frustration, your annoyance stemming from his lack of attention to aesthetics. The Polaroids are haphazardly nailed to the wall, without any discernible pattern or arrangement.

Beside you, Danny simply shrugs and looks at you with an impish grin.

"Well, can't please everyone, can I? Besides, I thought it'd be a fun way to show off my... accomplishments," he responds with his characteristic smugness, his tone unapologetic.

Rolling your eyes at Danny's response, you can't help but mutter a teasing insult under your breath. "Moron," you scoff, your words laced with affectionate amusement.

You both go on stalking dates

Meaning you sneak around the survivor camp and record them from afar

You both giggle like schoolgirls when you throw a pebble at Dwight's head

The nervous wreck of a leader is so confused as he darts his head around

You record everything on your camcorder

"Wolfie, lemme try. Record this"

"Okay, ready"

You focus your viewfinder on Dwight, expecting another pebble

Something suddenly pierces Dwight's neck at full speed

It makes a squelching sound and then a crack as it hits bone

Dwight falls dead

Danny deadass threw his knife at Dwight

The survivor camp erupts into chaos

Danny grabs your hand as you two hightail it out of there

You're both laughing like hyenas

The Entity makes you both walk Demogorgon around the entire realm as punishment

For a whole week

Well at least you're together

As you and Danny navigate the Yamaoka estate, you hold the leash that's tethered to the Demogorgon. The creature's towering form is a stark contrast to the mundane concept of a "dog," yet here you are.

"Hey, Danny, can you hold the leash?" you inquire, a hint of mischief dancing in your voice. Danny simply shrugs and nods as he takes the leash from your hand. You watch with a faint smirk as he wraps the leash around his hand.

Taking advantage of the moment, you calmly reach down to your boot and retrieve a sliver of jerky. With a casual, nonchalant demeanor, you extend the treat towards the Demogorgon. "Here, boy, fetch," you utter, your tone tinged with amusement as you toss the jerky away from you.

In an instant, the Demogorgon reacts, its predatory instincts kicking in as it lunges after the jerky. The force of its movement catches Danny off guard, and he's practically yanked off his feet, the leash becoming a makeshift tether that tugs him along like a ragdoll.

"Asssshoooollllleee!" Danny's indignant yell carries through the air, the word drawn out as he's pulled farther away from you. His insults grow faint as the distance between you increases, his voice eventually becoming a distant echo.

A bout of genuine laughter escapes your lips. Maybe punishment wasn't so bad as long as Danny was there.

Masterlist here

[astarionmylife]

Salvation (Astarion x GN!Tav)

Summary: Tav watches Astarion and reminisces about how they've grown closer.

Content: FLUFF, light mentions of nudity

🦇🩸🦇🩸🦇🩸🦇🩸🦇🩸🦇🩸🦇🩸🦇🩸🦇🩸🦇🩸🦇🩸🦇🩸🦇

Astarion stares up at the sun, features relaxing into an expression of joyful disbelief. He holds his arms out at his sides, marvelling at how the dappled light fell through the trees to illuminate his ghostly pale skin.

Tav watches him from where they sit a few metres away, unwilling to interrupt what seems to be an intimate moment. Their naked figure lies sprawled as they watch the first carefree smile they had ever seen on the vampire blossom onto his face, and reflect back on the long adventures they's already been on.

Tav and their party only found Astarion recently, and they hadn't known what to think of him, the wild, flirty, elf with a crop of perfect white curls. Then, he had outed himself as a vampire. That night passed as a blur for Tav, but they remember feeling a tangible connection, and inexplicably, they let him feed from them.

He is clearly dangerous, but it is impossible not to be drawn to him. And somehow, he loves Tav. Truly loves them, the first time he has felt that feeling in centuries. The first time he has ever been permitted to love, and to feel safe with another being. And he shows day after day that he is prepared to fight for this love. So, yes, Astarion was dangerous, and even more so now. But the only people in danger were those that hurt Tav.

So they sit there, entirely safe, in the morning light, and watch him soak up the sun.

Loath as Tav is to admit it, he truly is gorgeous. A perfectly carved figure, sure, but what Tav really admires is his smile. They had never seen him happier than how he's been the past few days.

Tav remembers the days spent together, judging the others and plotting against the merchants. Everyday of laughing and simply enjoying each other. They remember the playful conversation, the light touches and teasing looks across the campfire, usually before holding hands and finding an empty place in the woods to indulge themselves.

They remember the quiet night of holding each other, caressing his hair and whispering that everything will be alright. The way he mumbles as he falls asleep, nuzzling deeper into Tav's warmth.

Tav knows, deep in their heart, that they will be proud of Astarion forever. No matter what, he deserves it. He deserves someone to hold and treasure.

He must've sensed Tav's stares, because Astarion turned his face to them, smiling so softly Tav could almost feel their heart melting. He extends two long, pale fingers and beckons them towards him.

Tav gets up immediately, throwing their shirt over their figure quickly in a way that doesn't hide very much. They stand by his side, melting into his sun-soaked bare chest.

"You seem happy."

Astarion smiles at them, a little sadly. "Before you, little love, I did not have much reason to be happy."

Tav relishes in the feeling of his gloriously smooth skin next to her, satisfied with how comfortably he can allow her to touch him without flinching away. "Maybe it's a time for new beginnings for all of us."

"Maybe."

The two of them stand together in the sun for a long time, simply enjoying the comfort the other offers. The vampire and his prey, who saved him.

[littlemourningstarr]

Refuge

Gale has hidden himself away in his tent, trying to will his own buzzing arousal away. Astarion's arrival feels like a curse, but may just be a blessing in disguise.

Kinktober 2024, Day 30: "JOI (Jerk Off Instructions)"

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Gale x Astarion

Tags: JOI, jerk off instructions, masturbation, a pinch of angst, kinktober, kinktober 2024

Gale flipped a page in his book, trying desperately to concentrate on the words in front of him, as he sat within his tent, a candle flickering. He’d been… distracted for the entirety of the evening, had been forced to leave the campfire and the company of his companions earlier than usual.

Everything just felt… too much, suddenly. He was beginning to notice just how beautiful each companion was, each flaw that he found all too tempting. Shadowheart looking like a blade of moonlight, Lae’zel cast in the shadows and flames like something fearsome- Wyll’s gods damned smile.

He groaned, tipping his head back. His groin throbbed, a pulsing heat within his pelvis, his balls aching, his cock tight to his pants. Typically he could ignore his arousal, and if it was too threatening he could occasionally take himself in hand and keep himself calm enough that the orb behaved. But this felt… different.

Because they were all so close. Despite the tensions and snide remarks, Gale had this twinging feeling that if he were to proposition any of his companions, they would take him up on it, quickly. And that temptation was terrifying…

Gale lifted his head, opened his eyes- and gasped sharply, realizing that his tent was being held open, a set of too red eyes looking at him, intrigued.

“By Mystra’s grace Astarion, do you want to startle me into an explosion?” Gale tried to sound annoyed, but he feared it fell flat. The vampire looked like a ghost, a wraith- a marble sculpture with the moon and stars illuminating him in a holy halo.

Gods above, below, and long dead- he was gorgeous. And it wasn’t helping Gale’s situation.

The vampire flashed him a smile- all fang- and stepped into his tent, letting it flop closed behind him as he settled on his knees. “Did you need something?”

“Me? Oh, no, I am quite… content. But you…” he reached out, caught his finger under Gale’s chin, forcing him to raise his head slightly, showing off his neck, “my dear wizard, you seem to need something quite badly.”

Gale kept his mouth tightly shut- but inside, he was panicking. He should have known the vampire would notice something- his senses had been beyond heightened once he had started feeding regularly.

Gale had but a breath to decide if he was going to deny or admit the truth. And when he said nothing at all, it was admission enough.

Astarion chuckled, a little rumble from his chest, his finger tracing down the front of Gale’s throat, over his adam’s apple. “Poor little Gale, doesn’t know how to ask someone to bed. Why, I would have thought bedding a goddess would have given you a complex. Who ruined you tonight, hmm?”

The top of Astarion’s finger was so chilled, it was all Gale could focus on. Would it feel good, to have that sort of cold pressed up against his own warm, soft heat? Astarion was all smooth skin, hollows of bones and sinewy muscle- gods, to have him pressed to the softest parts of Gale’s body, to feel his legs wrap around his waist, watch his head tip back, his arms extended like angel wings-

Astarion grinned more. “Your heart is racing. Do share your thoughts.”

“You should leave.” Gale’s voice was thick, slow. It was dangerous to have Astarion this close, to entertain these thoughts. The orb felt unsettled in his chest, nearly pulsing with his heart.

“Oh darling, don’t play coy, I can…” Astarion paused, eyeing Gale’s throat- and Gale realized the humming pulse of the orb, in time with his pulse. “Hear your heart…”

Gale couldn’t even focus on the fact that Astarion was, quite possibly, propositioning him, although it very well could just be teasing. It was too dangerous. “Which means you need to leave, right now. A little reading will calm me down.”

Astarion was quiet for a long moment, looking at Gale with an almost pitying look. “You can’t even take care of it yourself, can you?”

Gale shut the book in his lap rather forcefully. “No, Astarion, not safely if I’m worked up enough. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to dwell in my seething arousal alone.”

The vampire, however, didn’t leave. He trailed his cold fingers down the pulsing orb’s veins, watching the purple illuminate his skin. “I’m going to regret this,” the vampire mumbled, “but that is simply… not fair. We can’t have you sitting here like a prudish monk.”

“Did you not hear the threat that excitement could mean I detonate and level everyone from here to Elturel?” Or what remained of it, anyway.

But Astarion was ignoring him, shuffling closer. He smelled refreshing, the bergamot thick, as if he had just reapplied the scent. His other hand took Gale’s book from his lap, set it aside- then took one of the wizard’s hands, slid it over his thigh, until he was pressing Gale’s hand to the wizard's quite obvious erection.

Gale’s hips bucked up towards his own hand, as the chill of Astarion’s skin felt… oddly grounding.

“If you stay like this you’ll burst at the first sight of someone’s ankle. No, taking the edge off is a far better risk than simply letting yourself spiral into unsatisfied need. So,” Astarion stroked his fingers over Gale’s knuckles, along the bones at the back of his hand. “Take yourself in hand and find some release. I’ll keep you calm.”

Gale couldn’t fathom how Astarion would keep him calm, when the man was doing the exact opposite- but gods he had a point, didn’t he? If Gale didn’t calm himself down, find some release, he was only going to get worse, the next wave of frustration stronger- until, gods above, he just might get so excited by the most ridiculous thing that he simply did explode into oblivion.

He hesitated another moment, before he leaned back a bit, fingers tracing the waist of his pants. “If we all die, I’m blaming you,” he pointed out. Astarion gave him a little smile, a small quirk of his lips.

“Whatever lets you sleep at night, darling.”

Gale reached into his pants, gave his cock a squeeze through his underwear, before he freed himself. He didn’t miss the way Astarion’s eyes flicked down, took in the flush of his cockhead, the smear of precum already visible.

The damned vampire licked his lips, and Gale felt his heart rate spike, the orb ache in his chest. Astarion dragged his eyes back up to his face, locked eyes with Gale.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he said, his voice soft, quiet. “Move your hand slowly.” Gale listened, held Astarion’s stare as he stroked slowly. “Don’t focus on the touch, just the feeling.”

Gale sucked at his tongue, tried not to focus on what he was doing- only that it felt good. But gods he wanted to stroke faster, wanted to rut into his hand, find release quickly.

He sped up a little, but Astarion reached out, grasped his arm gently, forced him to slow, gave a single shake of his head. “Don’t be desperate Gale. You’ll get there. Slowly, so we can keep that pretty little heart of yours calm.” He pulled his hand back, and Gale swallowed thickly, but listened- his hand slowing down, his grip loose, just bumping his glans on each up stroke. “Good, better.” The vampire pulled his eyes from Gale’s for a moment, glanced at the pulsing on his neck, before turning his eyes back to Gale. “I’m going to touch you- no, not your cock, don’t look terrified.”

Gale hadn’t even realized that he’d gone wide eyed, hopeful and fearful.

“Just let me make you more comfortable. Keep going as you are.” Astarion reached for his robes, began undoing its fastening, opening it to reveal Gale’s bare chest. He pushed it fully open, then placed both his palms flat to Gale’s chest. Gale sucked in a breath, the coolness a shock to his system, making his chest cramp up- but oddly enough, made him feel almost calm.

It was the touch of another, after all. Something he hadn’t felt in over a year.

He made a desperate little noise, and Astarion leaned closer. “Shh, shh, you’re alright. You’re alright.” His thumbs rubbed at Gale’s chest, over his thick, dark chest hair. The wizard was sure he could feel his heart and the orb pulsing under one hand. “Look how close I am, and you’ve still got your pretty little head attached.”

Gale managed a smile, couldn’t stop himself from whispering, “Pretty, eh?”

Astarion tutted, gently let his nails scratch at Gale’s chest. The sensation was slightly distracting- kept Gale from focusing on the dire need his cock was aching with, in his hand. “Don’t make me take it back,” he chided. “Stop touching yourself.”

Gale paused, pulled his hand away- but it was agony. The moment he lost the sensation on his cock he realized just how tightly he was wound, each muscle in his body ached.

“You’re getting too excited.” Astarion skimmed his hands up to Gale’s shoulders. “I can hear your pulse. Now, listen to me very carefully. Take yourself in hand.” When Gale hesitated, Astarion added with that attitude of his, “your cock, you stupid, silly man. Now.”

Gale took himself back in hand, his other hand on his thigh, gripping it tightly.

“Don’t stroke, press your thumb just beneath the head.” Gale listened, pressing his thumb under his glans, at the heavy bundle of nerves that rested there. “Good, good. Now rub, slowly now.”

The wizard listened, felt his balls going tight as his cock spilled precum at the touch. It made it easier to rub slowly. 

“Your pulse is going to go up,” Astarion murmured, hands going back to his chest. The coolness was comforting. “It’s okay. Don’t panic. You’re going to get relief, I promise.”

Gale believed him.

He took a slow breath, not fighting the way his belly was tightening up, then relaxing. He was close, close enough that he was beginning to feel that fuzzy orgasmic feeling, in his spine.

Astarion leaned closer, until his forehead was pressed to Gale’s. It was… intimate. Gale’s chest ached over the action, but his pulse remained. This was a different ache. One he wasn’t sure he could pull apart, in that moment.

“You’re close,” the vampire whispered- not asking, but telling. “You’re so close, and it feels so good. Everything is alright, Gale. Everything is safe, here. With me.” The wizard closed his eyes, whined softly, wanted in that moment so badly for Astarion to kiss him. But gods, there was no way he’d remain calm through that. “Almost there,” Astarion whispered, “Almost, almost… and…” he hesitated, then whispered in a very breathy voice, “now.”

The orgasm was a tide of relief, washing over Gale, drowning him. He didn’t thrash, didn’t hump into his hand- he simply felt his muscles relaxing, pleasure stretching from his pelvis up his back, out to his limbs. His cock was weeping cum over his hand, heavy spurts that were tell-tale evidence of how pent up he was.

He kept rubbing just beneath his glans, until he felt the contractions inside him finally beginning to weaken. He dared to open his eyes, glance through dark lashes- and Astarion was still there, forehead to forehead, giving him a little smile.

“Good.” The vampire pulled back slightly, hands still on his chest. “And now you’re calm.”

It was the truth. Gale felt… relaxed. Gods, he felt drowsy. He wasn’t sure the last time an orgasm had been that good.

He hated when Astarion pulled his hands back. The orb gave a pulse as his chest ached at the loss of contact, but then the light dimmed. No burst of flames and flesh rending force- nothing but his calm heartbeat, within his breast.

He opened his mouth to thank Astarion, but the vampire gave a single shake of his head. “Don’t thank me. I simply made sure you don’t get us all killed because you’re pent up like a youth.” Gale thought the vampire might have meant there to be some teasing venom in his voice, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He was looking at Gale too softly.

“How did you…” Gale paused, swallowed, hated that Astarion stood up, turned away from him, grasping the flap of his tent. He meant to leave, and Gale realized he desperately wanted him to stay. “How did you know what to say?”

The elf paused for a long moment, before he glanced over his shoulder. His eyes, those gorgeous scorching gems that could burn hundred year stone to ash- they looked sad. “I simply told you what I want to hear.”

It was honest, too honest. The moment Astarion said it he turned, let himself out into the night, leaving Gale to stare at where the man’s shadow had been.

Whatever demons kept home in the shadows of Astarion’s ribs, Gale hoped someday they would all burn in their own hellish fires. And, he dared to admit- he’d quite like to be the one lighting that fire. He’d enjoy exercising some of the fear from Astarion, and giving him the sort of safe relief he had just given Gale.

[kit-kat-katie]

I love you, but you love him, and he loves me

A/N: Sometimes I forget that the things that I say have a tendency to age like milk... apologies for the lack of updates and fics. I've been drowning in schoolwork since the semester started and I haven't had much of a chance to work on an extended fic like Our Time. The current plan is to have this post up for February, put up a Johanna fic in April/May, and then finish up Our Time over the summer (hopefully). Anyways, here's some Clove fluff that's a week late for Valentine's Day! :D

oh, thanks for 100 followers! I am so happy that people enjoy my content without a regular schedule. thank you so so much again!

TW: underage drinking/smoking, brief mention of weed, small fighting scene, reader is put into uncomfortable romantic situation

Pairing: Clove x GN! Reader (Rivals to Lovers in 2x speed)

Summary: You love Clove. She likes Cato. Cato likes you. Your life is a comedic love triangle until your best friend's drunken disaster causes you to connect with Clove and discover something new about her.

“On your left.” 

Catelyn gives you a quick warning before flipping you on the back and slamming you against the mat. You squirm against her grip for a moment before spotting a weakness in her legs.

An opening.

You grab her leg and pull her to the ground before taking her hands and pinning them to the ground.

“Don’t count me out yet.” You sneer as she scoffs.

“Fucker.” She mumbles as a buzzer goes off in the distance.

You immediately jump off of her and offer a hand up, which Catelyn begrudgingly takes.

“Trying to impress your girl?” She raises an eyebrow before you shove her aside.

Clove’s staring at the two of you, well, just you since Catelyn’s stepped off the mat to grab a drink of water. Her eyes immediately drift off to look elsewhere as you let out a sigh.

You wish she’d look at you longer, as much as she looked at Cato.

It’s funny, in an ironic way.

You love her.

She loves him.

And he’s paused his sparring to walk over to you.

Probably to ask you on a date or to go drinking or to go do something with romantic undertones that you don’t want to do.

So he loves you.

Catelyn had egged the two of you on before realizing that you wanted nothing more than for him to leave you alone. You didn’t want to refuse Cato’s invitations - he was the choice for a Hunger Games tribute in the near future, and that’d piss off more people than your trickiness could outmaneuver.

Perhaps running through a nearby window would be the best way to avoid him?

…And he’s right in front of you.

You glance behind him, only to see Clove's jaw tighten.

Fuck.

~

An invite.

“That's all he wanted?” Catelyn teases as you make your way to the place where Cato always invited you after sparring practice.

It wasn't like the two of you were going to be alone. It was a tradition for the top contenders for this year's Hunger Games to engage in a few… adult activities before the Reaping occurred. This way, the two tributes shipped off could get to enjoy a little bit of adulthood before heading to the Capital.

It wasn't anything too awful, just some cheap booze and a few blunts to pass around. Any people that passed you all by would simply look the other way - who'd want to risk being harassed by a group of teenagers?

You didn't usually partake beyond a few sips from some cheap bottle of booze - someone needed to carry Catelyn home, after all.

When the two of you slip behind a pair of buildings, a few boys around Cato's age wave you over.

“Let's get this over with.” You grumble, hoping to spend this evening without uncomfortably resting in Cato's arms.

~

You failed.

Horrendously.

When you arrived, Cato threw an arm around you and hasn't let you go since. You're tempted to drink more so you don't remember what he's said or done, but seeing your friend nearly face plant into a campfire has you rethinking that decision.

As if matters couldn't get any worse, Clove arrived just in time to see Cato place a kiss on your cheek. She huffs before glaring at the two of you from a fair distance away.

This time, you notice, her glare isn't directed at you.

She's glaring at him.

~

Catelyn's barely able to stumble forward as you throw an arm around your shoulder. She excitedly points at a lamppost and tries to point at it, but she ends up falling out of your grasp and onto the barren road.

“Catelyn, c’mon,” You try to coax your friend from the ground, but she shakes her head, “We've got to get home before sunrise.”

“Nu-uh!” She slurs, face-down in the pavement.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose until you hear footsteps come from behind you.

“Need some help?” 

In all of her brazen glory, your knight-in-shining-armor (a black leather jacket, a plain t-shirt, and blue jeans), Clove, offers to help.

“If you don't mind, I know you might be busy with someone else.” You quietly say as she shakes her head.

“I wanted to take a walk to clear my head, away from everyone else.”  She grabs Catelyn from the ground, who whines like a petulant child, before you hoist one of Catelyn’s arms over your shoulder.

Clove does the same, and the three of you walk in silence until a biting question slips off her tongue.

“Do you like Cato?”

“Absolutely not.” The answer leaves your lips before you can refine the words with a bit more thought. “We're friends, sure, but I don't feel anything for him.”

Relief escapes her lips as she takes a deep breath out, then in. She smiles, as do you in return.

“Good, good. I was worried that you were into him.” 

“Why?” You stop, which causes Clove to stop.

“I thought- I thought I liked him, but I saw him kissing you and… I didn't like how it made me feel.” She blushes at her honesty as you bite your lip.

“If you like him, Clove, you can have him. I certainly don't want him.”

She harshly laughs before turning to look at you.

“Don't you get it? All of those times that I saw you two together, I thought I was jealous of you. Today, after seeing him draped over you, I realized that I'm jealous of him.”

Her confession leaves you breathless as you pause to consider her words.

She… likes me.

“Clove, I…” It's your turn to get nervous as you try to meet Clove’s unwavering gaze. “I really, really like you too.”

Catelyn, in a moment of drunken clarity, lifts her head up to look at the both of you before loudly sighing.

“Just kiss already, you idiots!” She lets go of the both of you to (not-so) gracefully fall on the ground as your arm finds its way around her.

You lean in to kiss her, before pausing.

“Is this okay?” You mumble, centimeters away from her lips. 

A mischievous smile slips onto her face as she answers by kissing you back.

You wouldn't have many nights like this again, but this night would always be special to you.

[beauregardlionett]

we made peace with the empty hourglass (the word limit's gone and you came home)

AO3 Link

It wasn’t often that Fearne was the one awake and Orym the one out cold. Yet, here they were—Orym fast asleep with the fingers of one hand tangled in her leg fur, and Fearne on watch with Chetney. 

Since they had returned from Ruidus, Fearne thought they might catch a break, maybe travel on their own whims for a while with the chance to breathe. But they had been so busy, leaving almost no time to think or talk unless it was regarding their current goal. Earlier that evening, they had finally completed their latest mission after several grueling days of sleuthing and fighting. After all that, the party decided to extend their return journey so they could rest and relax for a few days.

Which landed them here, with Orym deeply asleep for once. Fearne had watched him wear himself to the bone, had borne witness to fresh scars and new fears that would never be addressed. She loved her little Halfling so dearly, but sometimes she wished he would let her protect him the same way he protected all of them. It seemed the least she could do was to sit sentinel over him like this while his guard was down.

The night was quiet—peaceful. Fearne drank in the steady melody of Chetney carving away at a new project, underscored by the soft, slumbering breaths of Fearne’s friends. However, beneath this gentle chorus, Fearne picked up on a sudden, discordant note.

Straightening, careful not to jostle Orym, Fearne’s ears flicked as her eyes scanned the shadowed trees beyond the light of their campfire. Chetney’s carving paused as he glanced up at Fearne in silent question.

Snap.

Fearne’s head whipped around, staring off into the shadows on her left. Chetney tracked the sound as well, eyes sharp and carving forgotten. His knuckles were white where he tightened his grip around his chisel.

She caught sight of movement just outside the glow of the firelight, and opened her mouth to call out, to scare off whatever or whoever dared approach them.

“Fearne? Chet?” 

Whatever Fearne was about to say choked off into a startled gasp, her heart leaping in her chest as the shadowed figure stepped into the light.

“Dorian?” Fearne said, voice thick with joyful disbelief. He grinned at her even as he pressed a finger to his lips, his gaze darting around to their sleeping companions. Dorian looked road weary, but otherwise unharmed. He looked stronger, too—a little sharper at the edges, more confident in the line of his posture.

Fearne had missed him so much.

“Holy crap,” Chetney breathed, grinning as he leapt to his feet and threw his arms around Dorian’s leg. “How did you find us, you little shit?”

Dorian laughed softly, reaching down to pat the top of Chetney’s head, looking unbearably fond. 

“It’s a long story,” Dorian whispered. “One I’m happy to tell in the morning after I’ve slept and greeted everyone.”

Chetney released Dorian’s leg with a half-hearted grumble about having to wait, but went back to his project without further complaint. Dorian stepped around a slumbering Ashton to sink down next to Fearne and fall into her sideways hug. Fearne wrapped him up tight in her arms, content to never let him go again if she had any say in the matter. She let him pull away, though, only so she could get a good look at his face and hold his hand with ease.

“I missed you,” Fearne said, voice soft and wobbly. “We all did.”

“And I’ve missed you,” Dorian said. “The Crown Keepers send their regards, by the way.”

“How’s Opal?” Fearne asked, tightening her grip on Dorian’s hand. Her worry for their beloved friend was something she couldn’t put off or ignore until morning. “Is she doing alright?”

“She’s as well as we could expect her to be. Still annoying the shit out of Lolth, of course.”

Fearne relaxed minutely, laughing softly. “That’s good.”

She glanced around at the group, making sure they weren’t disturbing anyone with their hushed conversation. When she looked back at Dorian, however, she found him staring down at her opposite hip, his expression wistful and complicated. Fearne followed his eye line to Orym’s tiny fingers, barely visible over the top of her thigh. The rest of him remained hidden in the draping folds of her cape he was using as a blanket.

“How is he?” Dorian whispered, voice almost indiscernible over the fire and the lull of slumbering breaths.

Fearne hesitated. They never got the chance to tell Dorian the full scope of what had occurred since he left with his brother. He didn’t know both of them had died, the details of their mission on Ruidus, or that they had been separated following the events at the Key. In turn, they knew little of what Dorian had been through with his brother and the Crown Keepers. There was so much to say in response to such a simple question.

“Tired,” Fearne settled on, and felt exactly how lackluster an answer it was the moment she said it. Being able to say as much as she wanted after being constricted to twenty-five words for so long was not such a simple transition, it seemed. “A lot has happened, and he shoulders things he shouldn’t—just like always.”

Dorian’s face did something complicated as he kept staring at Orym’s hand.

“He missed you,” Fearne said at length, smiling sadly when Dorian’s gaze shot up to meet her own. “He tried to message you every day, even when we knew the Sending Stone wasn’t working.”

Dorian’s expression twisted into something pained as he huffed out a strained exhale, looking away. It took him a long moment to find his composure, but eventually he turned back to Fearne and spoke in a watery tone, “so did I.”

Fearne reached out and pulled him back into her side, sighing happily at the realization that she finally had both her boys here beside her.

Orym made a quiet noise beneath her cloak and shifted, fingers tightening in her fur. Dorian pulled back enough to peer down at him, expression bright and hesitant at once. Fearne moved her arm, giving Dorian the freedom to move around to her other side and shift the cloak away from Orym.

“Fearnie?” Orym mumbled, still half asleep. “Is it my watch?”

“Not quite,” Fearne said, her voice wobbling with emotion. Orym, ever perceptive, startled awake at her tone, concern lining his features before he was even fully upright. He opened his mouth, likely to ask if she was okay, before he caught sight of Dorian in his periphery and froze. Orym turned to Dorian and stared at him for a suspended moment of absolute silence.

“Hello,” Dorian whispered after a pause long enough to leave Fearne wondering if they would ever say anything. He smiled at Orym, shaky and hesitant, but intensely joyful.

“Dorian?” Orym said, his voice strained as it cracked over the syllables of his name. “Is this real?”

“Yes,” Dorian breathed, laughing wetly. “Quite real.”

“How…I mean–when did–?” Orym cut himself off with an unsteady exhale before launching himself into Dorian’s chest and wrapping him up in a hug so tight it almost looked painful. Fearne grinned, wide and aching, as Dorian gathered Orym closer and pressed a firm kiss to the top of Orym’s head. Both of their shoulders were shaking—from tears or joy Fearne couldn’t be sure. But she stared at them and her heart was full.

“You didn’t answer last time I messaged you,” Fearne heard Orym say where he had his face smushed into Dorian’s shoulder. “I thought you…I thought the worst.”

“I’m sorry,” Dorian said, voice pained. “I had already tried using the Stone that day when you called. And then I tried again the next day, and it was like the Stone never worked at all.”

“We were back on Ruidus by then,” Orym said with a quiet sniffle. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Dorian pressed another kiss to Orym’s head and glanced up at Fearne, his smile tired but real. “Me too.”

Fearne reached over and placed a hand on Orym’s back, her other cupping Dorian’s cheek. She had her boys, safe and whole.

“You should sleep,” Fearne whispered, pulling back to spread out her cloak beside her again, patting it invitingly. Orym made a soft, panicked noise before Dorian could move, making both Dorian and Fearne freeze.

“Orym?” Dorian said, trying to sound calm despite the concern on his face. Fearne watched him smooth a hand down Orym’s back without trying to get Orym to release his hold.

“Don’t leave.”

It was clear to Fearne that Orym had meant to say it like a question instead of the painful plea it ended up being. Her heart broke a little with the realization that he was scared—their tiny, unflappable guardian admitting a fraction of his loneliness.

“I won’t,” Dorian said with fierce conviction. “I will be here come sunrise, Orym—I promise.”

He glanced up at Fearne with a mix of emotions on his face as he clung to Orym. She patted her cloak again, gesturing for him to lie down beside her while she continued her shift with Chetney. Dorian, without releasing his hold on Orym, curled up on top of the soft fabric and pressed his forehead against Fearne’s hip. He tucked Orym’s head beneath his chin and exhaled at length. Fearne buried her fingers in Dorian’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp.

“Love,” Fearne whispered.

“Love,” Dorian responded immediately, his smile curling up at her.

“Love, love,” Orym mumbled from where he still refused to part from Dorian. “Missed you.”

Dorian didn’t respond, but Fearne saw the way he tightened his hold on Orym and curled up just a little more.

Big spoon, middle spoon, little spoon—a complete set once again.

[lucky-clover-gazette]

prince's gambit highlights & annotations

chapter 9

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

‘So,’ Damen heard Lazar say to Jord, ‘what’s it like having an aristocrat suck your dick?’ It was the evening after the rockfall at Nesson, and they were a day’s ride further south. They had set out early, after assessing damage and repairing wagons. Now Damen sat with several of the men, sprawled by one of the campfires, enjoying a moment’s rest. Aimeric, whose arrival had prompted Lazar’s question, had come to sit beside Jord. He returned Lazar a level look. ‘Fantastic,’ Aimeric said. Good for you, thought Damen.

"GOOD FOR YOU, THOUGHT DAMEN."

Lazar made a good-natured sound of disbelief. ‘For real,’ he said to Damen. ‘Who gets a leg over, you or him?’

“for real” is just slightly anachronistic and it fits the scene very well. “for real bestie who tops”

The company was in peak condition after Nesson. The wagons were repaired, and Paschal had patched up the cuts, and Laurent was not smashed by a rock.

He could see Laurent’s tent, lamp-lit and streaming flags; it was like a pomegranate, its rich excesses on the inside.

damen.

Damen had woken from a cocoon of sleep this morning to the sound of a lazy, amused, ‘Good morning. No, I don’t need anything.’

The men were experiencing camaraderie in the face of a common enemy, and it was natural that he was feeling it too, or something similar, after a night of chases and escapes and fighting alongside Laurent. It was a heady elixir, but he must not get swept up in it. He was here for Akielos not for Laurent. His duty only extended so far. He had his own war, his own country, his own fight.

if this was a musical you just know that greek chorus would be roasting the shit out of him rn

This very morning Laurent had sent a man flying back to Nesson, with money and thanks, to return Charls his horse.

do you think he signed it as himself?? maybe we find out in book 3

But this rider was nothing like that. Dressed in leathers with no sign of crest or livery, riding a good but plain horse, and most surprising of all—pushing back a heavy cloak—she was a woman.

LET’S GOOOOO

In memory of your morning with us. And for the next time you need a disguise.

i love the implication that he genuinely charmed the women at the brothel, like, not in a horny way. like they’re just kind of rooting for him, to the degree that they got this dress to him. i need the fic about this entire grift, how he talked to them, their reaction, etc

Curious, he unwrapped another layer of cloth to reveal more cloth: blue and ornate, it spilled out over his hands. The dress was familiar. Damen had last seen it open and trailing laces, worn by a blonde; he’d felt that embroidered ornamentation under his hands; she’d been halfway in his lap. ‘You went back to the brothel,’ said Damen. And then the words next time tapped him on the shoulder. ‘You didn’t wear—?’ Laurent sat back in the chair. His cool gaze didn’t answer the question one way or another.

:-)

‘It was an interesting morning. I don’t usually have the chance to enjoy that kind of company. You know my uncle doesn’t like them.’ ‘Prostitutes?’ said Damen. ‘Women,’ said Laurent.

yeah this isn’t surprising. for multiple reasons. i do like how we get some implication that laurent feels differently—another sign that he is fit to be king

‘Vannis is our delegate. He needs her, and he resents that he needs her, and she knows it,’ said Laurent.

vannis = vannes?

They were two days out from Acquitart, and the people in this region knew their Prince, and sometimes came out to line the roads, greeting him with warm and happy expressions, which was not the way that anyone who knew Laurent greeted him.

If there’s anyone alive who can strike a blow that will bloody the Regent’s nose, it’s him.

and loyse

‘As we draw closer to the border, I think it would be safer—more private—to hold our discussions in your language rather than mine.’ He said it in carefully pronounced Akielon. Damen stared at him, feeling as though the world had just been rearranged. ‘What is it?’ said Laurent. ‘Nice accent,’ said Damen, because despite everything, the corner of his mouth was beginning helplessly to curve up. Laurent’s eyes narrowed.

“i speak your language better than you speak mine, sweetheart”

‘You mean in case of eavesdroppers,’ said Damen, mostly just to see if Laurent knew the word ‘eavesdroppers’.

It was of course no surprise to find that Laurent had a well-stocked armoury of elegant phrases and bitchy remarks, but could not talk in detail about anything sensible.

Damen had to keep reminding himself not to grin. He didn’t know why listening to Laurent pick his way through the Akielon language had him in good spirits, but it did. Laurent did indeed have a pronounced Veretian accent, which softened and blurred consonants and added a lilt, with stresses on unexpected syllables. It transformed the Akielon words, gave them a hint of exoticism, of luxuriousness that was very Veretian, though that effect was at least partially combatted by the precision of Laurent’s speaking.

i love this. another example of how damen’s affection for laurent isn’t just based on his appearance. he has this kind of subconscious desire to see the gap between them bridged, and is DELIGHTED when it happens in all its awkward glory. he falls in love a little more with every moment that laurent feels like an actual human person in the room with him

‘We’re done for the night. Come here and attend me.’ Those words rattled around in his mind.

damen.exe has stopped working

‘You don’t like it?’ said Laurent. He knew better than to say what he did or didn’t like. Laurent’s voice held a hint of interest at his discomfort that was always dangerous.

and we’re talking about the book 1 garden scene again! “he likes it” etc, the matter of consent and pleasure, how damen views the entire thing in retrospect. i think there is some grey area being presented by the narrative about this overall subject—for someone like laurent, with the history and reservations he has, it would have been an unforgivable violation to have been put in the position he put damen in. but to damen, enthusiastically sexually active with many partners since his teenage years, and very used to being in control, it isn’t regarded retrospectively in the same way. it’s not my place to say whether this is right or wrong, good or bad, in terms of how non-consent should be portrayed in fiction (or if there even is a hard “should”), but i do at least appreciate that pacat seems to have committed to damen’s understanding of the scene and doesn’t really compromise.

‘Perhaps if I were more authentic,’ said Laurent. ‘How does an owner command a bed slave in Akielos? Teach me.’

this is such a laurent move. fluster him, talk shit about his morally bereft culture, and half-jokingly propose roleplay all at once

‘You said in Nesson that you had used slaves,’ said Laurent. ‘Don’t you think I should know the words?’ He forced his hands to move. ‘If you own a slave, you may command him however you like.’ ‘I haven’t found that necessarily to be the case.’ ‘I would prefer you to talk to me as a man,’ he heard himself say. Laurent turned under his hands.

god they make me crazy. damen having a big moment here in reconsidering his values. laurent enjoying the fact that he’s making damen reconsider his values, because he knows damen can do better, which is different from the previous times he’s challenged damen. we’ve moved past mutual moral arbitration, because they both have started to understand each other. now they’re pushing to see just how on-the-same-page they really could be.

also, laurent would be diabolical in high school debate

also also, “i would prefer…” feels like a big moment re: damen admitting how he feels about laurent, TO laurent. even if he doesn’t fully know what he’s admitting here, he’s essentially saying that he sees himself as a voluntarily ally rather than a slave, which laurent absolutely does not expect and probably would not accept at this point

He felt rather than heard his voice change in the intimate space. ‘But if you would rather—’ ‘Step back,’ said Laurent.

yeah laurent’s having some trouble unpacking that. i forget the exact wording but this reminds me of a later quote, “i don’t have the means to defend from this,” “this” being earnest affection

They gazed at one another.

i really should be counting these but oh well. it’s less funny to document than the laurent leans and hr complaints

‘Unless you need anything,’ he heard himself say, ‘I’ll go and bring in some more coals for the brazier.’ ‘Go,’ said Laurent.

laurent braces himself on the table as soon as damen leaves. the opening guitar riff of “granger danger” from a very potter musical plays faintly in the background

The water had been bracing cold in the warm night. He had dunked his head and let it run over his chest and shoulders, then he had scrubbed down and waded out and pushed the water from his hair.

not the cold shower…

Laurent was well made and capable, and Damen was a man, as other men. Half the soldiers in this camp wanted Laurent under them. The body’s reaction could be discounted, as it had been, determinedly, at the inn. Any man would have been roused by Laurent playing pet in his lap. Even knowing what was under the earring.

damen you’re not beating the “granger danger” accusations either

After a long moment, he took his eyes off Laurent and looked back at Lazar, who was gazing at him with a rather dry but understanding smile quirking the side of his mouth. ‘All right what?’ said Damen. ‘All right, you’re not fucking him,’ said Lazar.

“but you wanna be soooo bad” 😭

[cricketnationrise]

Hi!! My prompt:

3:47pm

The lake house on Lake LBJ

Oscar Diaz

Song for vibes: My Way DH by Rascal Flatts

Thank you!!! ❤️❤️❤️

ooooo Oscar was fun to write. note to self, must write more Oscar. anyway i listened to My Wish and immediately had 'dad thinking about his kids' vibes so please enjoy just over 600 words of oscar being happy for his children 💜🦗

read the rest of the ficlets here!

❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙

3:47pm, lake lbj

It’s a special kind of surreal seeing both his kids in love.

Sure, June may not actually be dating Nora, but that’s a when, not an if, judging by the way Nora half-melts when June smiles at her and the special crinkle of June’s eyes when she watches Nora spout off ridiculous statistics. Oscar hasn’t seen that particular crinkle since June was with Evan. His heart swells with happiness for his oldest every time he spots her and Nora lost in each other’s company or trying to drown each other in the lake or communicating solely through raised eyebrows and quirked lips or when Nora hides her watery eyes when June sings Annie’s Song next to the campfire. They’re practically one brain, one soul even, split across two bodies and it’s stunning to witness.

Sure, Alex may not have admitted to himself that he’s in love with Henry, but Oscar would bet the lake house, his Senate seat, and much more besides, that Alex will figure his shit out soon, because he’s never seen his son like this before. 

Alex has always moved a million miles an hour, always put a ton of pressure on himself, always pushed himself to juggle a seemingly-impossible load. Oscar has seen the dark circles under his eyes when they video chat, has heard the exhaustion in his voice when Alex visits his Senate office, has noted the middle-of-the-night timestamp on one too many emails to think that Alex is completely fine. Oscar recognizes the signs of stress���both from himself and from when he and Ellen lived together—that have been increasing in frequency over the past year.

But lately, and this week in particular, Alex seems settled in his own skin—he’s practically aglow—and not because of the sunshine. Every time he sets eyes on Henry, or makes him laugh, or even just talks about him, Alex lights up. All through prepping the food earlier, Alex had kept glancing out the window, a fond smile on his face at the sight of Henry out on the dock refereeing the girls. Watching his son and Henry interact, it’s like there’s a whole other level of happiness that’s been unlocked. 

Alex’s carefully blank voice when he’d asked if his ‘friend’ Henry could come to the lake house had all of Oscar’s dad instincts sitting up. And his son’s anxious hand wringing when he’d introduced Henry had been enough to tell Oscar that this person was someone special to Alex, even if he’d never indicated he was interested in men before. Their conversation in the kitchen had been an unnecessary, but welcome, confirmation. 

All he’s ever wanted for June and Alex is for them to be safe and happy. The Texas sun shining down only highlights how content his kids are—it looks good on them both—and Oscar is beyond grateful he gets to witness it. He’s always wished for them to dream as big as they wanted to, for them to reach out and gather up all the love they can possibly hold inside. He’s always wanted them to have a comfortable place to land, a secure set of arms to fall into if life knocks them down. He’s always wanted them to know they can fly free, knowing someone loves them unconditionally. And sure, he and Ellen and Leo and all their extended family love Alex and June but— It’s immensely satisfying knowing that the universe has answered Oscar’s wish and led both of his children to their people.

He hopes they’re both brave enough to reach out and gather their loves close, and hang on tight through whatever life throws their way.

[jacobsbigmelons]

Can I request Jacob with a bf who really like to hold his hands and hug Jacob but he's too insecure to ask for it.

Safe Embrace

Jacob Custos x Male Reader

cw: fluff fluff and fluff my god i love some fluff with Jacob, oh and Emma and Jacob don’t like each other here if that wasn’t clear

sorry i haven’t been posting the soop for y’all, i’ve been fighting the worst illness (writers block)

You walked out of your cabin, the sounds of crickets chirping entered your ears but just as quick the familiar body was walking up the steps to the door that led to said cabin. Unfortunately the door blocked your view enough before you realized it was Jacob who was making his way up. The thump of the door hit Jacob as your heart raced before quickly moving around the door to grab his arm incase the door pushed him back enough to fall.

You grabbed one of his forearms even though the other hand grabbed onto the rail which kept him steady. “Oh- are you okay? I didn’t see you, sorry about that.” You said concerned as Jacob readjusted his hat, “Almost died, nothing to worry about. Nah i’m fucking with you, it’s fine” Jacob wrapped an arm around your shoulder as he kissed your lips, you wrapped your arms around his torso since he initiated the hug after all.

“What’re you up to? Everyone’s at the campfire, minus Ryan, and Katherine he’s being mysterious and I guess she’s with him…who knows what they’re getting into.” You giggled at his sentence as you let him go while twiddling your hands together. “Just went to go get a warmer hoodie, the one I had on wasn’t working out so.” You shrugged while swaying your arms, you wanted to hold his hand but it felt like there was a mental blockage there, you want to go for it but you also didn’t want him to think you were extremely needy for him.

“Alright, sick uh let’s go before we get bitched at.” Jacob casually closed the door behind you as he began to walk down the stairs quickly. “Hey uh- could you um…my-my hands are um, pretty cold so could you potentially…not make them cold?” You said, mentally bashing yourself by how awkward and clunky that sentence came out to be. “You wanna hold hands?” Jacob blatantly stated, his hand slightly extended out for you to take it. You inhaled sharply as you pressed your lips into a line while looking away. Seems he figured that out pretty quick. You nodded as you found your fingers intertwined together as you two made your way to the fire.

Your guys’ footsteps became louder as the sound of nick making the stereotypical cat call whistle as you two held hands to the fire. “Hello lovebirds, glad you can join us” Nick teased as Jacob blew a middle finger kiss to him as you both sat down. Honestly you could care less, you didn’t mind the teasing as long as it wasn’t anything personal. Emma and Abby were having their own little conversation as Nick, Jacob and Dylan were shooting random topics at each other. Your hands still together, you really wanted his arm around you once again, his arm felt nice when it was around you.

You slowly tried to take your hand out of his to try and give some sign without it being weird or awkward, you were pretty content with just staring up at the stars as the fire crackled near you. Jacob turned in your direction while also looking back at your hand for a second as he replied to the boys’ questions. You looked back at him with a slight smile as Jacob eventually took his hand out instead and maneuvered it near your waist to pull you closer as he kept it there and returned eye contact to the boys.

“I really like it when you wrap your arms around me” you said not expecting an immediate answer since he was still speaking. You laid your head on his shoulder as your arm wrapped around his waist as well. “Aw look, the boys are so cute.” Abby shamelessly chimed in as her hands rested on her chest, a smile plastered on her face. “Uh yeah, not everyday you see a couple like this” Jacob quickly replied “oh and I also like wrapping my arms around you too” Jacob quickly replied to your previous statement to him.

“So what, you guys are officially making it a thing and not dancing around the bush and just being fwb’s? (friends with benefits)” You both scoffed at her question, you were so thrown off you felt the need to cough from just how surprising it was, yeah you two weren’t super upfront about your relationship whether it was when you two would sneak off and get frisky or if it was just to cuddle up in bed together. “I mean- yeah I guess it’s official I’d say.” you replied after you got over your coughing fit, “Uh yeah what he said, and for the record Emma, no one was dancing around any bush” he pointed at her playfully with his free hand.

The fire crackled as the group laughed together, crickets chirping in the background as you two sat in peace with one another, both yours and Jacobs arms around one another’s waist as you kissed once more and took in the calming nighttime ambience.