#i hope and pray that you post it and we are able to read it isnxkndkd | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whumptober · 1 year

Text

Whumptober 2023

Welcome to Whumptober 2023 — the sixth year running!

COMPLETIONISTS/PARTICIPANT BADGES CAN BE FOUND HERE

To those of you who participated last year, welcome back! To everyone joining this year, welcome!

Please make sure to read the Event Info carefully, as most of your questions will be answered there already. For everything else, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here.

This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.

And this years playlist can be found here.

There are 139 prompt options in total this year - this is including the alternatives list! A special thanks goes out to those who took part in our trope vote back in July. From the 1526 responses to our list of 223 tropes, we looked through the popularity results, as well as your honourable mentions, and were able to produce this years prompts list. Stay tuned, as we will be posting some of the results at a later date!

We’re very excited to see the community come together once more and be a wild, chaotic bunch of creators and consumers of whump. Go wild with the prompts, and support your fellow creators - we wish you all the fun!

Best of luck and happy whumping,

Mods Vanne, Yenn, Kitty and Surro

(All 31 Themes + Prompts, Event Information and FAQs are posted below the cut!)

Whumptober 2023 Prompt List

No. 1: “But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps.”

Safety Net | Swooning | “How many fingers am I holding up?”

No. 2: “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.”

Thermometer | Delirium | “They don't care about you.”

No. 3: “Like crying out in empty rooms; with no-one there except the moon.”

Journal | Solitary Confinement | “Make it stop.”

No. 4: “I see the danger, It’s written there in your eyes.”

Cattle Prod | Shock | “You in there?”

No. 5: “You better pray I don't get up this time around.”

Debris | Pinned Down | “It's broken.”

No. 6: “Do or die, you’ll never make me; Because the world will never take my heart.”

Recording | Made to Watch | “It should have been me.”

No. 7: " “I paced around for hours on empty; I jumped at the slightest of sounds.”

Alleyway | Radio Silence | “Can you hear me?”

No. 8: “I’ve got soul, but I’m not a soldier.”

Overcrowded ER | Outnumbered | “It’s all for nothing.”

No. 9: “Learning everything ain't what it seems, that's the thing about these days.”

Polaroid | Mistaken Identity | “You're a liar.”

No. 10: “Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?”

Broken Phone | Stranded | “You said you'd never leave.”

No. 11: “All the lights going dark and my hope’s destroyed.”

Animal trap | Captivity | “No one will find you.”

No. 12: “I haven't slept in days but who's counting?”

Red | Insomnia | “I’m up, I’m up.”

No. 13: “It comes and goes like the strength in your bones.”

Cold Compress | Infection | “I don’t feel so good.”

No. 14: “Feed me poison, fill me ‘till I drown.”

Flare | Water Inhalation | “Just hold on.”

No. 15: “I don't need you to help me I can handle things myself.”

Makeshift Bandages | Suppressed Suffering | “I’m fine.”

No. 16: “Would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

Gurney | Flatline | “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

No. 17: “You’re the lump in my throat and the knot in my chest.”

Collar | Touch Aversion | “Leave me alone.”

No. 18: “I tend to deflect when I’m feeling threatened.”

Blindfold | Tortured For Information | “Hit them harder.”

No. 19: “I’ll take one final step, all you have to do is make me.”

Floral Bouquet | Psychological | “I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”

No. 20: “People don’t change people, time does.”

Blanket | Found Family | “You will regret touching them.”

No. 21: “See the chains around my feet.”

Vows | Restraints | “Don't move.”

No. 22: “They never saw us coming, ‘til they hit the floor.”

Glass Shard | Vehicular Accident | “Watch out!”

No. 23: “It’s gonna get me by the end of the night.”

Shadows | Stalking | “Who’s there?”

No. 24: “I’ve got a head full of chemicals; mouth full of ridicule.”

Goodbye Note | Neglect | “I thought they were with you.”

No. 25: “You’re not delivering a perfect body to the grave.”

Storm | Buried Alive | “They’re not breathing!”

No. 26: “Sometimes I get so tired; I don’t even know myself.”

Seeing Double | Working To Exhaustion | “You look awful.”

No. 27: “You drew stars around my scars; But now I’m bleeding.”

Matches | Scars | “Let me see”

No. 28: “We might not make it to the morning; so go on and tell me now.”

Bloody Knife | Sacrifice | “You'll have to go through me.”

No. 29: “I only sink deeper the deeper I think.”

Scented Candle | Troubled Past Resurfacing | “What happened to me?”

No. 30: “It’s okay, just to say, ‘I’m not okay’.”

Borrowed Clothing | Bridal Carry | “Not much longer...”

No. 31: “I thought that I was getting better.”

Emptiness | Setbacks | “Take it easy.”

Alternatives List:

Betrayal

Aftermath of Failure

Brass Knuckles

Decoy

Body Modification

Playing Cards

Examination

Hunting

Drugging

Shaking

Panic

Broken

Miscommunication

Lab Rat

Reluctant Whumper

Event Info & Rules

~ Please read our extensive event info posts before sending us an ask ~

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. The 'theme' of each day is the line of lyrics.

The prompts are merely to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is "flame", you could create something with reference to a candle/campfire, your character could have suffered a burn, or the flame could be related to the 'spark' of a relationship. It's truly up to you!

In total, there are 4 prompts for each day: there's lyrics, an object, a trope and a line of dialogue to choose from. We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag the with:

#whumptober2023 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(day number)

#lyric, #bruises, #stabbing, …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#fandom or #OC, … (ironman, originalcontent, oc …)

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

#teeth, #gore tw, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Add "tw" AFTER the trigger/content warning. )

#nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

#your own tags go here

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober-archive blog. They must be tagged in the order above. An elaborate post about our tagging system can be found [here]

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month. A form will be published at the beginning of November asking you to tell us if you completed the event. You do not need to post anything you have created, we rely on trust and we will not check this.

Questions not addressed in one of our many event info posts can be directed to this blog. We will not answer any questions that have been answered in the FAQs or rules already.

Frequently Asked Questions

Q. How does this year’s prompt list work? What do I have to choose?

You can create something based on:

The overall theme/lyric of the day

Prompt 1, 2 or 3

One or several of the alternative prompts

A combination of the above

Q. Is [specific anything] allowed?

When in doubt: JUST DO IT!

Q. Do I have to do all 31 days?

Participate as much or little as you like! Just be sure to tag your posts properly (ex. #no.7, #radio silence). If you create works for 31 total theme days you will become a completionist. But apart from that, there are no repercussions if you don’t fill prompts for each day.

Q. Can I post early/late?

Yes, you can post whenever you want. We will only reblog posts during October, but you can use our prompts all year round. The day you post will only affect your probability of being reblogged.

Q. Will you reblog my post?

Due to the sheer number of content posted during Whumptober we can’t promise to reblog every single post. We will make a random selection trying to capture a wide variety of content. The following will increase your chances at being reblogged:

tag your post properly

post within 2-3 days of the theme you want to fill: if you fill the prompt for Day 1 your chances of being reblogged during October 1st to 3rd are highest and will go towards zero afterwards.

Q. What if I don’t understand a prompt/theme?

Send us an ask! We’re happy to help with wild, unhelpful clarifications or brainstorming. That being said, the themes are entirely up for interpretation. Don’t take them too literally. For example: You can be choking on a cherry, someone else can choke you or you could be choked up on emotions, etc.

Q. What kind of content can I make? Can it be NSFW?

This is a MIXED MEDIA event! You can write fic, post meta, doodle or paint, create a gifset or photo edit, link a song, or get crafty with video - anything goes. As for NSFW, make what you like, we just hope that you’ll tag your work accordingly so that others participating in the event can stay safe.

Q. Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges?

Absolutely, as long as the other challenges allow it too.

Q. Can I upload/repost my Whumptober content to other social media platforms?

Of course! You can post your own content wherever you like (or you can opt to not publish it at all). Additionally we’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there. It can be accessed here. The tumblr blog @whumptober-archive is the official archive, so please respect the boundaries of any closeted whumpers in your social circle.

Q. Can I use prompts to write a new chapter for an existing fic?

Yes.

Q. An existing fic I am currently writing contains many of the Whumptober prompts, can I use it?

If you are actively writing this fic at the moment with the Whumptober prompts in mind, yes. If you’ve previously posted something that checks the boxes, we ask that you not include it retroactively for this current year. You can, however, add new chapters relating to one or more of the prompts.

Q. What kind of characters can I write for?

Fandom characters, OC characters, human, furry, alien, cyborg, RPF, whoever you like. You can use the generic “whumpee” character or have specific ones.

Q. Does it have to take place in a specific fandom?

No, you can create works for your own worlds or for fandoms or for both. You can also create more generic or pan-fandom works. You can do cross-overs or use OCs, whatever you want.

Q. Can I use a prompt multiple times?

Yes, but it only counts once towards being a completionist.

Q. If I’m not comfortable with one day’s prompts can I use a prompt of a different day as a substitute and still be a completionist?

No, you can’t exchange prompts for different days. However, if all four prompts of a specific day make you uncomfortable, we have created an alternate prompts list that you can draw from. You can exchange any prompt with these, but please make sure not to use them twice.

Q. Where can I post my work?

Post where and how you want. You don’t have to (cross)post it to Tumblr or at all. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive.

Q. Can I start posting early?

You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? That being said, you can post early, but we won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st.

Q. Do I have to finish a fic I started/can I post WIP’s?

Yes you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish it in October for it to count towards being a completionist.

Q. Is co-writing allowed?

Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you.

Q. Do I have to create 31 standalone pieces to be considered a completionist or can I write one continuous story?

One continuous story is fine. The challenge is to write something for 31 prompts. If that’s spread over 31 fics or just one, you are still considered a completionist. (The same goes for every other media you choose.)

Q. Is there a min/max limit on word count?

There is no limit.

Q. Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many?

No limit and combine as many as you’d like.

Q. Is a hc/angst/emotional whump focus ok?

Of course! We are not going to establish a threshold for whumpiness. If you think it’s whumpy enough, then it’s whumpy enough. It can be physical, psychological, emotional, or any combination of the three.

Q. What’s considered nsfw?

See this post

Q. What is whump?

Typically the genre includes situations where a fictional character is hurt, be it emotionally, psychologically, or physically. Fanlore provides information here.

Q. My interpretation of the prompt isn’t whumpy at all, does that count?

If you don’t think your interpretation is whumpy, then it doesn’t count for Whumptober. Remember that whump comes in many forms, though, and that we don’t have a whump-checker or a threshold for how much whump needs to be included. If you think your interpretation contains enough whump to count, then it does.

Q. Can I start working on the prompts before October?

Absolutely! That’s why we post the prompts a month in advance. We recognise how difficult it can be creating for 31 days in “real time” so feel free to start creating early!

Q. How do I tag triggers?

tw at the end of the word, ex. #gore tw

Q. Do I have to use your tags?

Yes, if you want your work archived on the blog. If not, feel free to use whatever tags you want.

Q. Does combining prompts count towards completion?

Yes

Q. Can we @ you?

Yes but we mostly rely on the #whumptober2023 tag.

Q. Is there anything we are absolutely not allowed to write?

There are no rules, but please make sure to properly tag your trigger warnings. And keep in mind Tumblr’s policies if you are posting it here (or the policies for whatever site you use).

Q. Where can I go for brainstorming help?

Here on Discord or come into our ask box.

Q. My characters are minors, is that ok?

Yes, but as with everything else, use clear and descriptive tags.

Q. Can I cross post on other blogs?

Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable. You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once.

Note: This is a creation challenge, please don’t repost your old work under our tags (unless it’s been changed or edited for the event).

Thanks for reading, and happy whumping!

#whumptober2023 #whumptober 2023 prompts list #whumptober #prompts list #long post

7K notes · View notes

darlingdekarios · 1 year

Text

the best thing.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 5,608 content: Gale Dekarios x f!tav [f!reader], porn with plot, established relationship (engaged), post-Baldur's Gate III canon, fluff, domestic bliss, smut [fingering - receiving, oral - receiving, unprotected p in v, creampie], kink(s) [overstimulation, orgasm control, hands, hair pulling, body worship]

after everything the two of you have been through, you're eager to give Gale one perfect, blissful day.

It was almost unbelievable seeing you bathed in the golden hues of the morning standing in his kitchen, back to him as you fussed over whatever it was you currently had sizzling on the stove. It was so rare that he was able to sneak upon you these days - you were so attuned to one another that simply entering the same room was enough of a greeting.

But now you were focused, far too much so to notice your lover's entrance, or even to notice him for several more moments as he leaned against the doorframe, peacefully enjoying the serenity that being near to you caused. Even this was enough to fill his heart with love.

"If there should ever come a day when your presence does not fill this tower again it will surely be a day without sunrise."

You turned to him and offered a smile that rivaled the sun itself in beauty and warmth, every bit as life sustaining to him. You were wearing an apron he often donned in the kitchen, the fabric graffitied with streaks of color and puffs of powder. He was struck as he so often was with you, offering nothing more than a smile in return that reached his eyes as he remained transfixed by you - the very center of his universe and far beyond anything his goddess had ever shown him in beauty.

"There are painters who envy me of this privilege. To wake to such beauty in my own home every day…I truly am a fortunate man."

You would never tire of the way Gale's words spread through you like warmest fire, making you feel worthy of a love such as this every moment no matter how your mind was trying to force you to feel that day. To say in the time that had passed since your adventures in bliss would be an understatement - both of you had found what could only be described as heaven in life with one another.

Everything about one another had become home, the deep love the two of you shared the kind that people prayed to the gods for.

"You wake up everyday and set out to make me love you more than the last.""

"I could say the very same to you, my love," his voice was particularly cheerful this morning and you were glad you'd decided today for your plan. It was already off to a great start, and it could truly only get better from here with what you had up your sleeve. "What has you in the kitchen at this hour? We didn't exactly get to sleep early, by any standard."

When you've gone through the things you've been through, sometimes it can feel wrong when someone looks at you with the amount of love and adoration Gale was now…the way he did so often these days. Whether you were resting in his bed, reading at his side, curled with Tara on the couch, or doing any other thing to fill the time, he looked at you now like it was what he hoped to do last in the world.

And he always would.

"I made you breakfast. Or at least…I did my best at…making you breakfast."

The smile that spread across his face was more stunning than any of the scenery in all of your adventures, not a single star or moon matching its beauty. As you were lost in your profound love for him he took the lull in conversation to close the distance to you, wrapping his arms around you and reuniting you into his warm embrace - it hadn't been long, but it was always an eternity.

He pressed several kisses to your forehead as he gazed over your shoulder, analyzing the plates you'd made for the two of you to enjoy. His brows pulled together in an expression you recognized as being deep in thought - you pressed a kiss to the lines as he spoke again.

"I know this meal…"

Your lips lifted into a smile against his skin and he reached upward to encourage you to meet his gaze again, awaiting your response and hoping it was a confirmation of what he suspected. "It was the first breakfast you made for the party. I remember how proud you were and how delicious it was…no one had ever cooked for me like that."

"Your memory is just as astounding as the rest of you," he was positively grinning at you, eyes expressive and proudly displaying every bit of love he felt for you. His head tilted to the side briefly - something you were quite fond of - as his brow furrowed again, the arm that remained around your waist pulling you closer. "It's not my birthday, is it?"

Forget loving him more by the day - you loved Gale Dekarios more by the second.

"No, dearest," you replied, reaching one of your hands upward to rest against his chest. You held his gaze as you spoke knowing he preferred when you didn't look away. "I just realized…in all the time since I've met you there have been many meals that you've made me, and I've never made you a single one."

His expression softened even more, something you didn't know was possible, pressing a gentle and loving kiss to her lips. The first kiss of the new day was always a shared favorite between the two of you - no matter how many days passed the first always created goosebumps and pulled quiet sighs of pleasure from your chests.

"You are truly are a gentle soul," he muttered against your lips, the hand that still cradled the back of your head sliding to cup your cheek instead, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone tenderly. "I'm still not always entirely sure I deserve it."

"But you do," you promised, eager to hush the self doubt that still lingered in your fiancé day-to-day. It was something you were happy to live with - it never annoyed you or grew tiresome, you were more than willing to remind him how loved he was despite any mistakes he'd made in the past, that any he'd make in the future were already forgiven. "You deserve it, Gale. We've been through so much together and I was thinking…I want you to have a perfect day. I want to do anything and everything you want to do for an entire day."

"Starting with breakfast?"

You sheepishly smiled and nodded before confirming, "I know it won't be as good as when you made it, but…"

"It will be perfect," he silenced your own worries gracefully and gently before they could even begin to fester. "As most things made in love are. Would you join me on the balcony for our meal?"

It was incredible how something as mundane as sharing a meal together could become an act of utmost intimacy. With Gale even the smallest moments felt like a life's worth of promise and love - if every day was like this you would leave this life with nothing but happiness in your heart. The day passed with him like a dream, like you'd truly found the person you were meant to spend this much time with. The person you were meant to face the passing years together - who you were excited to watch more grey bloom in his hair.

After breakfast both of you had fallen asleep on the balcony in a gentle embrace, his arms holding you against his chest as you slept. When you woke, Tara was asleep on your back and so you'd continue to lay together until the tressym removed herself to carry on with her day. All the while Gale had gazed at you lovingly, stroking your hair and face when you had continued to sleep a few moments longer. He'd never tire of the serenity that filled your face in truly peaceful slumber.

For lunch Gale opted to eat by a nearby lake, the beautiful afternoon the perfect landscape for him to take a moment to indulge in a bit of poetry…about you, of course. It made you bashful when he did so - it always had and likely always would, a demure laugh passing through your lips as you tried to hide behind your hands as he poetically described the many things he loved about you.

Of course, the heat in your cheeks only increased when his poetry turned to that of describing the ways he wanted to demonstrate his love - but you were certain you were burning when he'd followed it with a kiss not entirely decent for a relatively public setting. Nevertheless, he certainly didn't seem to mind.

It continued with a trip to the bookstore, the apothecary, and to another local merchant where he bought some supplies for home and a necklace for you that yes he insisted you have, even though you now had a collection forming in the tower. Before you could finish your day in town he asked to pop down to the local inn for a quick drink.

You were well aware that this was truly just time for Gale to show off his future wife to the other patrons - something that always made you feel fantastic about yourself. The fact that the famed Wizard of Waterdeep felt pride in having you at his side was no small compliment - it was a fact you flourished in.

Back home, the two of you cooked dinner together, Gale eager to give you tips on how you could improve in the future. When it was time to eat you shared a bottle of wine that you'd selected together earlier and ate in silence, reading your new books with zero complaints even capable of being formed in your mind.

Your eyes only left the words on the pages to glance across the table to him lovingly - something you were joyous to find he mirrored frequently. It was after dinner had been cleaned up and the two of you had tidied up from the day that you found yourself in his embrace, yet again on the balcony where so much of your shared time was spent.

For a while he simply remained with his head resting atop yours, holding you gently as you shared another sunset. It was only once the sun had completely gone for the night over the horizon that he turned you in his arms slowly, eyes finding yours like it was their nature to do so, wasting no time in leaning down to kiss you again tenderly.

"Have you enjoyed your day, my heart?"

He smiled the kind of smile that pulled lines beside his eyes, eyes that were twinkling and rivaling the stars that had started to decorate the sky for the night. You could feel how content and relaxed he was in the delicate hold he maintained on you, the love pouring from him and seeming to wrap you in a tighter embrace. It was these moments where the weave truly connected the two of you, holding you together and proving that you were meant to be together in this world - and the next, if that happened to be what came.

"I have enjoyed every day by your side, even the difficult ones," his voice was so earnest there was simply no possibility of disbelief from you - you could hear the honesty soaking his words, every sentence another promise and declaration of his love for you. "But today has been perfection. I could thank you for a lifetime and it wouldn't be enough."

The kiss he gave you then was the kind that is written about in books - in fairytales, the kind that inspires poetry and signifies the truest of love. He continued to hold you against him gently as your lips entered a dance you both yearned for constantly - at this point you were no strangers to what each of you liked and it was reflected with every swipe of your tongues and movement of your lips.

And it was always until you were both breathless - never a second before. The two of you had experienced so many things together that had made so many of your early tenderness rushed - neither of you were ever in any particular rush anymore. This kiss was exactly like so many these days - savored. And yet this was only the beginning of what the two of you would savor in the night to come.

"Would you like to retire to our bedroom for the night?"

You words were light as you whispered against his lips, biting at the bottom one lightly when you finished your question. A truly pleased grin spread across his face as you pulled away, his arms still anchoring you to him - if you wanted him to he'd release you, of course, but it was never a moment too soon.

"Darling, you need only ask."

Thankfully, the bedroom was mere steps away and it was easy to tug him inside with hands gently pulling at the collar of his shirt, your lips not leaving one another for long. Though it was obvious where Gale's mind was heading - a it was difficult to deny it for much longer as it had been growing since the kiss at the lake earlier - you still had one more thing planned for him.

One of his hands slid lower to cup your ass and bring you closer, tongue seeking entry into your mouth again as he waved a hand to ensure there was some light by way of many candles. You shook your head to which he huffed, pulling away just far enough to pass you an inquisitive look.

"Not quite yet, my love," you cooed, pressing a consolation kiss to his lips briefly before pulling away fully, wrestling yourself free from his grasp with a giggle. "Remove your shirt and lie down on your stomach."

Though he muttered under his breath about it he followed your instructions, brown eyes searching your face for a response as you only sat on the bet waiting for him, always one to enjoy the sight of him undressing. When he was finally in the position you asked him to be you straddled his lower back, hands slowly rubbing the expanse of his shoulders with the perfect pressure to pull a groan from him.

And that was the end of his silent questioning - every swipe of your hand, knead from your fingers and caress was met with a moan, groan, or whine from him - as time continued on he was mumbling into his pillow about how much he loved you…repeatedly. When you reached a particular point you could practically feel tension melt away from him and you leaned downward to press a kiss to the back of his neck before encouraging him to roll with a squeeze of your legs.

And oh, was he happy to oblige - to be reunited with your face, now with the moon's glow coming through the curtains to illuminate you alongside the flickering candles. A considerable amount of time had passed since you began massaging him and still you showed no signs of stopping, continuing to straddle his waist as your efforts now focused on his chest.

"Your hands are divine," he was barely coherent through the pleasure he already felt, his words far less calculated than they're normally be. "I could lay here for a ten day and happily starve."

"I suppose you're feeling well about your day then, my love?"

It was an unnecessary question - you both knew it. But he was also just as aware that you loved to hear about the feelings your efforts had earned, and it had been a long time since he'd denied you of anything you wanted that he could provide. With his most charming smile he nodded, leaning forward to rub the tip of his nose against yours gently in an innocent show of affection.

You reached upward to run your fingers through his hair delicately, pulling a blissful sigh from his lips again. If it were possible to create a symphony from what filled your bedroom you would gladly hear its melody forever…a sentiment he'd expressed toward you once that you held at the core of your memory and found your mind circling back to often.

So much of his mind was an exact reflection of your that sometimes it seemed they were still connected sometimes.

"Absolutely blessed," when Gale spoke it was as though you were the one who could answer his prayers, something you found irresistibly sweet about him. "If you're not careful you will spoil me beyond reason."

You leaned down to capture his lips in a gentle kiss again, his hands grasping your hips again, sliding to rub over the soft expanse of your thighs. Too selfish to release his lips again you whispered into the kiss, your own hands resting on his chest still, his heartbeat steady and soothing.

"I fail to see why that would be so bad."

He could only smile into it as he continued to kiss you slowly, one of his hands sliding up to hold the back of your head delicately. He began to raise until he was sitting upright, keeping you anchored where you straddled him with his resolute hold on your hip still, ensuring your lips never parted from his for longer than a breath.

Before his arms engulfed your waist his hands made quick work of removing the robe that covered your frame, discarding it to the floor with little care. His hands caressed over your torso like he truly cherished every inch of you and sought to ensure not a single patch of you went unattended to.

(He truly loved every inch of you - a fact you believed deep into your core. You'd only asked him once what his favorite part of your body was - he'd almost been offended that you'd think he could narrow a list of such considerable length.)

"Still, it may be good for me to exercise some selflessness tonight," he offered, a handsome and playful expression illuminating his features. His hands were now gently resting on either side of your neck, thumbs lightly rubbing back and forth - unable to stay fully idle for long. "You gave me the perfect day. Will you let me treat you to a perfect night in our bed?"

"Have you known me to say no to you often?"

"Only when I've needed to hear it."

No further talk was needed and the two of you continued to kiss tenderly, his hands returning to lavish your breasts again. Your own hands maintained a hold on the back of his head, fingers grasping his hair delicately - completely unwilling to have him pull away. Happy to oblige and always eager to swallow the quiet sounds of pleasure he could pull from you, especially now in the privacy of a bedroom where it had not always been a luxury you'd been provided, one of his hands continued to trail lower.

Until it reached as low as he could on your leg in this position, fingers brushing over the soft skin of your inner thigh - it was obvious he was influencing the weave to crackle at his fingertips gently, the result a pleasant tingle dancing across your skin. Your legs squeezed tighter around him in anticipation and he chastised you with a light swat to your thigh, not to cause pain but to capture your focus again.

You responded with a light nip to his bottom lip which earned a cheeky smile from him, eyes staying on yours as his hand finally reached your core - where you were desperate for him most. Over your panties it was still obvious how wet you were in anticipation of him - your time with Gale had proven that things like that only spurred him onward more, the confirmation that you wanted him just as desperately clouding his mind of all logic.

"Have you been wet all day, my love?"

The tone of his voice melted you like wax, you could only nod and whimper as he pushed the fabric to the side, slowly running two of his skilled digits between your soaked folds. His lips were only centimeters from yours so every movement brought them together slightly, your moan cut off as he kissed you again, index finger circling your clit slowly. He opted to speak against your lips, unwilling to be too far from your sweet lips for long.

"I'd have indulged you long before now had I known this is what waited for me."

His fingers swiped back down to your entrance and the middle slipped into you slowly, a smile playing on his lips as he kissed you again. Though one finger meant every exit and reentry meant pinpointed strokes the stretch wasn't enough to satiate the pressure that was seated in your core, more of a stretch needed than what one finger provided. It only took a slight squirm of your hips for him to take the cue, slipping a second finger into you which you thanked him for with a moan.

He left your lips to kiss to your neck, reclaiming spots that had often been decorated with his mark in your time since returning home with him. His fingers set a leisurely pace pumping into you, stroking your velvet walls perfectly as his tongue lavished a spot on your neck that you knew would only add to the slick coating his hand.

His free hand came to one of your breasts to massage gently, fingers rolling your sensitive nipple and pinching to add to the melody sounding from your mouth. From where you were seated in his lap you could feel his cock hard and throbbing beneath you, adding to your desperation - as skilled as Gale's hands, fingers and mouth were it would never compare to joining together with him.

You rocked down against his waist which pulled a groan from him, fingers picking up pace as he nipped at your neck. "Patient, darling…"

His hand left your chest to grasp your hip instead, steadying the movements you both knew would drive him over an edge he was intent to tiptoe around still for a while yet. When you continued to try to squirm in his hold he removed from you completely, brow furrowed as he used a hand to push you onto your back. He kissed down your torso slowly, eyes staying fixated on yours as he went - communicating his instruction to stay still without a word.

"Gale please, I need you…"

You tried to tempt him into giving into your way for once by reaching upward and slipping your fingers into his hair, giving the messy locks a tug to try to encourage him upward. It was briefly annoying that you felt his lips curve against your hip - amused by your attempt, no doubt -

*(Later when your mind is clearer you'll reflect on this moment - as you so often reflected after intimacy with Gale - and you'd once again be thankful for his insistence on ensuring he went above and beyond for you in all senses.

It was impossible to forget that you'd become the most important thing to him.)

"You know I won't give you what you want until you've cum at least once for me, darling," he reminded, his voice feather light against your inner thigh now where he sucked a fresh mark into your thigh to match what the fading ones had once appeared as. Your fingers ran through his hair and tugged again, he only groaned deeply in response and lightly bit at the spot he'd just marked.

"Gale -"

He did love when you whined for him - it almost always nearly enough to make him break on the spot, the temptation to give into you near overwhelming.

"Ah ah ah," he whispered, the vibrations in his voice tickling your skin as his lips brushed a familiar trail up your thigh to your core. "No arguing, my love. I'm not asking anything unreasonable."

All that was left to do was melt as his tongue ran through your folds, an appreciative moan rumbling in his chest as he tasted you - as though it was the first time all over again. The argument was completely lost as he continued to cover every inch of your cunt with his tongue. He was exactly what he'd told you to be - patient - as his tongue ran back and forth between your oversensitive and swollen clit and your hole that was eager to clench around anything.

This was certainly one of his favorite ways to spend his time now - sometimes to busy his mind with anything other than tortured thoughts of the past he'd lose himself in devouring you. The fact that you always gushed on his tongue was a bonus, one he was more than happy to work for, sometimes refusing to remove his head until you'd finished multiple times.

Even he wasn't patient enough for that tonight, but he was enough to continue lavishing you with his skilled tongue, hands gripping your hips and angling you upward so he was able to fuck his tongue into you and lean back occasionally to gaze lovingly at your pretty, creamy cunt. With the amount of love and devotion he was putting into every movement, it wasn't long until your thighs were squeezing closer around his head, the subtle shake at his fingertips giving your impending release away before you managed to moan out the warning.

"I'm…I…"

"There you go," he leaned away to look up into your face, his lips and chin covered in your slick and his spit. One of his hands abandoned its hold on your hip to join his mouth, two fingers entering you again in a swift movement, the sound that accompanied the movement enough to build heat in your cheeks. "That's a good girl."

With his fingers now pumping into your hole again it left his mouth to focus on your clit, his tongue relentlessly swirling on the bundle of nerves as he pushed you toward release. Your vision was already whitening and your fingers gripped his hair tighter, a cry ripping from your chest as his other hand pressed down on your stomach.

That sensation snapped like a rubber band through you - while you were lost in ecstasy you hardly registered that your release was gushing from you, though Gale wasted no time in covering as much of your cunt with his mouth so he could drink your euphoric nectar.

As you were coming down he crawled back up you, pressing kisses along your torso as he whispered a word or sentence of praise with each one. You were pinned beneath him, one of his forearms resting next to your head as a leg moved to slide one of yours higher - though you were in a post-orgasm haze you registered you needed to wrap your leg around his waist.

His hand came to smooth your hair back, leaning down to press a delicate kiss to your nose - a tender action that didn't match the lewd way he rolled his hips into yours, his cock throbbing and leaking from what you could feel against your pussy. His other hand maintained a tight grip on your hip and he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips now, whispering quietly against them.

"Are you ready for me, my love?"

The truth was, he could never enter you fast enough - or at least he wouldn't, his playful nature shining through one last time before he lost himself completely in intimacy. It showed now in the subtle shake to his voice, the slightly higher pitch that gave away how much he needed you.

"Please."

"I do so enjoy when you ask nicely."

He started sliding his cock into you slowly groaning the entire way, opting not to continue to kiss you so he could gaze into your face with complete adoration, finding just as much bliss in seeing your eyes roll back and flutter closed as a light smile played on your lips as he did in feeling your velvet walls around him again.

And this - this was as perfect as anything else that had ever truthfully been described as such. This is where both of you found some reason, some meaning - where both of you created your own galaxies. It started slow, Gale preferring to savor the first strokes inch by inch every time. His lips never left you, kissing you gently in any place he could reach on your face and neck and shoulders as he muttered quiet words of love and appreciation.

Poetry that would only be shared between the two of you.

When he was satisfied with the amount he'd cherished every inch of your walls welcoming him in again he re-angled your bodies so both of your legs were around his waist now, the new angle allowing him to fuck into you deeper. Now he was hitting a spot he knew would make you see stars, hoping that you'd thank him for remembering exactly how to reach it -

"Gale…feels s'good…"

He sounded his appreciation with a loud moan of his own, his pace increasing as the tension built in his core now. You felt impossibly tighter each time he re-entered, a fact that was driving him closer to release. Unable to voice it he pressed a sloppy, desperate kiss to your lips before leaning his sweaty forehead against yours, breaths falling out heavy against your lips.

No matter how close his release threatened to snap, he would never do so without hearing you tell him to do so. You allowed him a moment to dangle over the edge for a moment as you bit into your bottom lip, catching his attention and focus - focus on your swollen lips, and the sweaty sheen covering your face and slicking your hair…on the way your eyes threatened to spill tears at how blissfully good you felt.

"Come for me, Gale," the instruction already had him grasping you tighter, but when you continued with an offer that hadn't previously been on the table it was impossible for him to hold back much longer. "Fill me…"

He kissed you again - a little too hard for how swollen your lips already were from the amount of kissing already done but with a passion that was returned nonetheless. His thrusts became just as messy as his kisses had and he pumped his throbbing length into you hard and fast, hips pistoning into yours repeatedly.

Both of your sounds filled the room as his movements pushed you toward a second release of your own, walls clenching around him so tight he now couldn't bring himself to remove from you completely. Recognizing both of you needed a breath as his own head began to spin he buried into you to the hilt roughly one last time as his orgasm started, toppling you over into your own at the feeling of his thick seed coating your insides.

You were thankful he wasn't a particularly massive man when he practically collapsed against you, breaths coming out heavy against your neck as his mind found a new addiction in filling your womb. Normally he'd withdraw to get a soft and warm cloth to clean you but tonight it hardly seemed necessary - even if you fell asleep now it wouldn't be long before he was sheathing himself in you again.

He would care for you in other ways tonight, pulling away from you slowly and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he positioned you both into something much more comfortable, facing one another on your sides so you could continue to enjoy the serenity illuminating one another's faces.

Between your bodies one of his hands met yours, your fingers lightly tracing lines on the back of his hand. He continued to enjoy the true peace of the moment before speaking again.

"Today was beyond words," he whispered lightly when he found his voice again. You could hear the love that each word was spoken with - what's more you could see it reflected in his eyes. "You give me everything I could have ever dreamed of and more."

You moved closer to curl up to him, burying your face in his neck as he waved a hand to ignite the fireplace, keeping one arm around you to hold you close as one of your legs slipped up over his waist. After he pulled the blanket over your bodies he turned his head to press a kiss to your forehead, finding your eyes were already closed and yet you still had a small smile on your lips. As he gazed at you for just a moment longer Tara jumped onto the foot of the bed, giving a long stretch before settling in for the night, her purrs mixing with the crackle of the fire.

Just when he thought you'd already fallen asleep you surprised him with another question.

"Let's do it again tomorrow?"

He kissed your forehead with a light smile on his lips as his arms tightened around you, happy to give this and more to you for as many days as you'd allow.

"And the day after that."

masterlist. baldur's gate III masterlist.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios x reader #gale dekarios smut #baldur's gate 3 smut #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #gale dekarios fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

fluffyartbl0g · 1 year

Text

Redraw of the panels that SHATTERED MY HEART o(；△；)o!!! OG panels + Opinions on the Luffy separation arc under read more

Okay let me just go on a tangent about my feelings about the post-series Luffy separation arc, cause I think it gets way too much hate when it’s such a heartbreaking and well executed deviation from oda’s standard formula!!! I know that we all love monkey d. luffy and he’s LITERALLY the main character of the series, but it was also really nice to get more time to focus on the rest of the crew. But here’s the thing, even when Luffy wasn’t here, he was still here. And I’m not talking about the so called ‘blessings’ or whatever that kept SUSPICIOUSLY popping up around the crew when Luffy disappeared, I’m talking about the consequences that arised from him disappearing. We truly got to see how grand the effect luffy has had on the world around him, and how many lives he was able to touch ; - ; So even though luffy physically wasn’t present (I mean KIND OF but you know what I mean), this was still VERY MUCH a luffy arc imo.

Oh man but I think Oda wrote luffy’s disappearance so well,,, I was sobbing for like 80 percent of this arc. Like just gradually seeing the crew’s deterioration as time passes by,,, but everyone has such unwavering faith in their captain, he HAS to come back cause Luffy always comes back. But here’s the thing, Luffy didn’t know what was happening to him when he started disappearing. But what he DID know is that he wasn’t sure if he was gonna be able to come back or not. And Luffy hates breaking promises- he’d never make a promise if he didn’t plan to keep it, and he’s not an idiot either, so when he just felt himself disappearing and saw zoro nearby... Instead of saying something like “I’ll be back!” and potentially making his crewmates wait for him forever, he tells zoro to “take care of the crew”... SOBBING AND CRYING T - T. So YES. the crew has unwavering faith in their captain. But. Luffy didnt say that he’d be coming back or anything. So what are they supposed to do really.

And it’s really hard to read at some parts, like it never loses the goofy tone that has been there throughout all of one piece and it’s really sweet to see everyone rely on each other to keep one another afloat, but the slight tension that keeps building up over the months while they keep looking for clues and answers... And how each lead keeps becoming a dead end... When it builds up and Usopp finally voices the thing that’s on everyone’s mind.

Oh man. I started crying so hard. It took 6 month for any one of them to say something. Like this is One piece. Of course Luffy is gonna come back eventually, it would be waay too dark otherwise... But Idk man, even I started to doubt that :((( But luckily. THIS IS ONE PIECE. So right after everyone started,,, well not exactly losing hope or anything (maybe a bit)? but going BATSHIT INSANE FROM THE REALITY THAT THEIR CAPTAIN MIGHT BE GONE FOR GOOD, they finally got a solid actual clue of what might’ve happened to luffy!!! And I’m SO GLADDDD!!!!

Omg and when they tracked down the pray-pray no mi user and finally got some answers out of him. OMG WAIT A MOMENT I REALLY LIKED IS WHEN PRIEST GUY IS LIKE “urerheg without luffy up there as a god the entire world may very well be destroyed cause the sun has been super unstable for centuries blah blah” and then Nami freaking PUMMELED THE GUY AND SHOVED HIM DOWN WITH HER STAFF AND

SOBBING CRYING SOBBING. THEY WOULD POTENTIALLY BLOW UP THE ENTIRE WORLD IF IT MEANT THAT THEIR CAPTAIN WOULDNT HAVE TO BE LONELY ; - ; KILL ME.

URGH I was really hoping that Luffy would return right once they beat him up cause I really really missed my boy, but honestly I think the final method of getting Luffy to return was super clever and absolutely worth the extra 3 weeks of waiting!!! I know that it was foreshadowed across the whole West Blue Saga and everything but I honestly had no clue it would end like that, DONT MAKE FUN OF ME :(((

When the crew finally got their captain back after 8 months of waiting... I mean they’ve been separated before for even longer periods of time, but they always knew that they’d be back together. This time they didn’t know. BUT AREHAHRGE ALL THE PAIN AND SUFFERING WAS SO WORTHIT WHEN THEY ALL FINALLY REUNITED T - T!!!!!! UWAHHWHAHWUAAGGHA!!! AND SEEING ALL THEIR ALLIES AND FRIENDS THEYVE MADE JUST CHEER AND CRY WHEN THEY HEAR THE NEWS!!!! I WOULD CHUCK ALL THE PANELS HERE IF I COULD BUT ID JUS T REACH THE IMAGE LIMIT BECAUSE ALL OF THEM MADE ME CRY ; - ;!!! Literally just read those 5 chapters in the arc finale cause,,,, man so good T - T

Anyways TLDR: The post-series luffy seperation arc is NOT BAD and you guys are JUST COWARDS AND LIARS!!!!

#tw unreality #post-series #one piece #op fanart #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #zolu #nami #usopp #straw hat pirates #gear 5 luffy #op spoilers #one piece spoilers #wano spoilers #please dni if ur a post-series one piece hater >:(#this is a post-series POSITIVE post only!!! Feel free to gush about other post-series arcs that you like on this post :D!!!#(for that person i scared: i put tw unreality higher just 4 u :3)

3K notes · View notes

azrielslightintheshadows · 10 months

Note

Hello! I hope all is going well for you. Firstly i wanted to say thank you so much for these wonderful fics you have been posting lately. I am so happy i somehow stumbled upon your page and now am able to read so many beautifully written stories.

I was hoping you could write a fic with azriel where him and reader have known each other for a while, but later on when elain come in the picture along her sisters, reader feels left out because azriel isn't there with reader anymore and is spending more time with elain's company and this makes reader feel neglected because she can't voice her feelings for him. Perhaps rhysand or cassian see reader slowly being left out and decide to approach her and reader lets all her feelings out, so they can talk to azriel and azriel fixes everything with the reader...they could end up being mates...upto you. Thank youu❤️❤️

Idiot.

Azriel x f!Reader

Masterlist.

Warnings; angst, swearing.

Hello! Thank you for your kind words. I hope you enjoy it! I can rewrite it if you don't like it!

When you met Azriel you instantly fell in love with him, the darkness that surrounded him never bothered you and when he realized that, he opened up to you and after some years he considered you his best friend. It hurt at first and no matter how much you wanted to tell him about your feelings, you were too scared of ruining your friendship and losing him. So, you ignored the ache in your chest and prayed to the Cauldron that he would fall for you too. You never completely understood why you felt that pull to him, it was like you were hypnotized. His sharp face with those high cheekbones and the strong jawline, those full lips and hazel eyes and not to mention the body that looked like it was carved by the Mother herself to tempt the world. He was made from sin and the most dark and unholy dreams, his huge membranous wings adding to that terrifying aura around him. But what could bring everyone on their knees was his personality; If you managed to get past those adamant walls he has built around him you would be mesmerized by him, his personality is a light that pushes all his darkness away. Only a fool wouldn’t be enchanted by him, and you sure as hell aren’t a fool.

So now that the other two Archeron sisters burst into your life and the middle one showed interest in Azriel every ounce of patience you had dissolved. Azriel would wake up, find Elain, spend his day with her, have dinner with everyone and then disappear into his room. Not even a second spent on you, his alleged best friend.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You were having breakfast with Cassian and Nesta in the house of wind when Azriel walked into the dining room.

“G’morning” Cassian mumbled as he chewed.

Azriel nodded and headed to the balcony.

“Az could you come pick me up around 4, I want to go to the bookstore.” You asked with a hopeful smile.

“I don’t think so, ask Cassian or Rhys” he replied without even looking at you and flared his wings, shooting up.

You turned your gaze to your plate and blinked the tears away.

“I can take you there” Cassian’s voice was soft, and his big palm rested on top of your own.

“It’s okay, excuse me” you whispered and got up leaving the room as quickly as you could.

“He’s such an idiot” Nesta said and continued eating.

Cassian was staring at the wall across him, his hand scratching his chin as he was lost deep in thought.

“I have to go” he said suddenly and got up. Nesta only nodded.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“I’m telling you Rhys he is completely ignoring her. She looked so broken today” Cassian exclaimed and hit the desk with his hand.

Rhysand was staring at him, trying to remember the last time he had seen you and Azriel together.

“I believe you Cass, I will watch them today during dinner and if he is ignoring her, we will talk to him together.” He replied and waved a dismissive hand at him.

Cassian left the office; he passed one of the big windows and glanced outside. Azriel and Elain were standing in the garden, Elain was explaining something as she pointed to some flowers. The warlord shook his head and left; he knew that if he stayed longer, he would snap.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Everyone gathered in the dining room of the house of wind for dinner, Cassian and Rhys sharing a look and taking their seats. You entered a few minutes later and glanced around the table, your usual seat next to Azriel was taken by Elain, the only empty seat was between Cassian and Mor. “Az, do you want to change seats with me?” Cassian asked the moment you sat. Azriel furrowed his eyebrows.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because you and y/n usually sit next to each other.” Cassian shrugged.

“Oh, no its okay” Azriel replied.

You let a shaky breath and picked your fork. Rhysand sighed and shook his head.

You didn’t know what happened during dinner, you were too busy keeping the tears back and thinking everything that was going on with Azriel. When everyone was done with their food, they moved to the living room with a bottle of wine. You tiptoed to your bedroom knowing that no one would notice and laid on your bed, letting the tears and sobs escape your body.

Cassian and Rhysand noticed though and they followed you. They stood in front of your door, their hearts breaking with every sob you let. Cassian opened the door, and they walked inside.

You felt the bed dipping.

“Az?” you asked as you turned to look.

Cassian’s expression turned from sad to angry. “That fucking idiot.” he growled.

“Y/n what’s going on?” Rhysand asked.

You were so tired of keeping all those feelings hidden, you couldn’t take it anymore, so you told them everything. How you instantly fell in love with Azriel, how you kept your feelings hidden in fear of losing him and how he broke your heart by spending all his time with Elain.

The two males frowned as you spoke.

“He is such an idiot, I told him to confess his feelings to you. He never listens” Cassian exclaimed and got up.

“Don’t worry y/n we will handle this.” Rhysand said and they both hurried off.

You were gaping at the door. Feelings? Confess? What? You were so confused that your brain felt like it would explode.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Cassian marched into the living room, grabbing Azriel by the collar of his shirt and dragging him outside. The shadowsinger didn’t fight his brother, he knew that Cassian could be a brute when he needed something. What he didn’t expect though was the angry look on Rhysand’s face when they reached the balcony. “What the fuck is going on?” Azriel shouted as he fixed his collar.

“You are a fucking idiot that’s what’s going on” Cassian growled. “Rhys?” Azriel asked ignoring the warlord.

“You’ve been ignoring y/n from the moment Elain stepped into our court. When was the last time you spent time with her?” Rhysand asked.

“I’ve been helping Elain adjust like you asked me to” Azriel exclaimed.

“Elain is fine for a while now.” Cassian said.

“She wants to hang out with me, she feels safe when I’m there” the shadowsinger explained.

“She wants to hang out with you because she likes you” Rhysand snorted. “That’s not the point of this conversation” Cassian growled. “Y/n is in her room crying her heart out right now because she is completely in love with you.”

“What?” Azriel’s eyes were wide as he turned his gaze to Rhysand. The High Lord nodded and Azriel spun around and sprinted off.

“Finally” Cassian screamed.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Your door burst open and Azriel stumbled inside, his eyes wide as he scanned your room.

“Angel please don’t cry” he breathed when he saw your face and approached you.

You couldn’t speak, you just stared at him as he knelt in front of you cupping your face.

“I’m so so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you angel. Rhys ordered me to help Elain adjust and then I kept spending time with her because I thought she needed me. I didn’t realize I was neglecting you, Cauldron I’m such an idiot.” He sighed. “Cassian said that you have feelings for me, is it true?”

You gulped and nodded.

“Even after all of this?” he asked.

“Yes” you whispered.

“Good. Because I’ve been in love with you from the moment I saw you for the first time. I feared losing you if I told you. I couldn’t believe that a sweet creature like you could love a monster like me.”

“Don’t say that! Please… you’re not a monster Az” you exclaimed.

“I kill faeries for a living”.

“You protect your court and family, and those faeries that you kill are not innocent. If someone can’t understand that then they are stupid.”

“My sweet angel….” Azriel stopped talking and furrowed his eyebrows.

“What?” you asked him. “Do you feel that too?” his hand went on his chest.

You felt it too, like a string unwrapping and then it snapped making both of you gasp and lean back.

“My sweet mate” Azriel whispered and smiled. You couldn’t believe it, your heart skipped way too many beats.

“My mate” you said, and tears filled your eyes.

“Do you forgive me?” Azriel asked.

“Yes. But you will stay away from her at least until I get used to the bond” “I will” he nodded “I love you my beautiful mate” “I love you Az” you smiled and he kissed you.

Requests are open but delayed!

411 notes · View notes

yooglefics · 4 months

Text

The casual type: 01 . The blind date

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader Wordcount: 2,888 words Genre ( for the whole series ): AU. College!verse. Strangers to friends with benefits to ?????. Eventual smut. Hurt / comfort at times. And fuff for cute friends. Summary: Hobi and his girlfriend set you up with a friend of hers to help with whatever happened months back. However no one really expected things to end the way they did.

Warnings ( for this chapter ): Setting things up for plot purposes. Gridding? Mentions of a boner. Making out. Author's note: So, I wanted to write some friends with benefits thing, plus a bunch of art kids… and this came out ┐( • ֊ • )┌ . I should note here I took the creative liberty to play around with their ages so everyone is in college at the same time, and if you haven't, you can check the presentation post and learn a little bit more about them. Now let's start, hope you like it! If you do you can reblog, like, comment, send an ask, follow and what not. Thank you for reading <3

The place is quieter than the last time you were here, you realize, is earlier in the day and the semester just started after all, meaning students are still moving in from their home cities. And although you want to be mad at him, you can't really blame Hoseok's choice of place for a date, instead, you're already thinking of ways to be able to escape the awkwardness of it all.

Of course, he and Mai don't have to worry about that. Is not their first date and considering they're both dance students it actually makes sense for them to be in a club on a friday night. Is their element, unlike yours, who hasn't left their room for the last couple of weeks if it's not to go art-supply shopping and will spend even weekends far away from a place like this.

But you couldn't say no. Not to Hobi. Not after he held you tight that night and didn't pray for an explanation.

He had come up with his own conclusions, though, and that's how you ended here. On a double date with Mai and her friend who you don't even know, so... Yay! Blind date added to the mix of reasons why you already want the night to end.

"You made it!" Mai greats when the both of you get closer to the bar, standing up to hug you first and then her boyfriend. "We ordered something while waiting."

Your friend nods at the explanation, "What do you want?" He asks in your direction and you settle for a fruity cocktail to not look too out of place with everyone else drinking. Mai insists on going with Hobi and he insists you stay, so, a bit awkwardly, you take the stool besides your date.

"Yoongi, by the way." The guy simply introduces himself before taking a sip of his drink.

"Y/n" short, overthinking if bowing is too formal until you decide is too long of a pause and it would only make it more awkward. In the end, a soft smile is your decision.

"They look cute together," you say looking at your friends, trying to break the silence that has fallen between.

"Listen," Yoongi begins, and your head turns to him, "I'm only here because she asked, so if you're expecting something like that, let's just leave."

"Like that?" Brows slightly closer, "a cute relationship?"

"A relationship in general. I don't do those."

"Oh..."

And before you can say anything else, Hobi is placing a glass in front of you, smiling reassuringly. "You'd be okay if I go dance now?"

A pause and then a nod is the answer. Not having any intentions of spoiling their night.

"Don't worry. Yoongi," Mai turns to him, a serious expression on her soft features, "you better take care of her, alright?"

He salutes, earning a smile from the couple and they walk to the dance floor hand in hand. You watch them make some silly moves at first and giggle, but it doesn't take long before they start to follow the beat and match it with their movements.

"I don't want a relationship either," you clarify, tone assertive, still looking at the couple with a smile.

He laughs, "I'm sorry, but that's hard to believe."

"Why?"

"Look at me and tell me you didn't just imagine yourself with someone on that dance floor."

You turn to him, brown eyes inspecting yours, "Well, yes. But that doesn't mean I want it to happen with someone I'm in a relationship with."

Again, he laughs. Clearly not believing you.

"What? People do casual things all the time," you defend, straightening your back and looking away.

"You do 'casual things'?" His eyebrows raise, "all the time?"

"Shut up, you don't know me."

"That's a no," no need to look at him to know there's a smirk playing on his lips.

"Who are you? Some kind of hook up police or something?" You want to take it back as soon as it leaves your mouth, cringing.

"Are you gonna show me your license?" but he is faster.

"Okay, that was more lame than what I said," you laugh. Maybe he is not as grumpy as he seems. And maybe, just maybe, you would be able to enjoy the night after all.

If he doesn't want a relationship either, then you don't have to deal with rejecting him or being forced to accept a second date just because you're too kind to say no. That's good.

"Yoongi, hey!" A guy calls out and for a split second your date's expression changes to a surprise one before a polite smile takes place on his face. "Oh, hi. Sorry for interrupting, haven't seen him in months."

"Is alright," you play along even when not understanding.

"I guess he has been busy with yo—"

"Jay," Yoongi's tone is serious, like the one he used to say he doesn't do relationships. However, before he can continue or you are able to clarify that you two just meet, Jay is calling someone over.

"Look who I found, love. Yoongi!"

A redhead girl repeats Yoongi's early expression and you wonder two things about Jay. One: if he always has that effect on people. And two: if he is even more clueless than you in this whole situation, since his smile never falls.

"Hi," the redhead says and Yoongi greets back just as plain.

Are you really imagining the awkwardness? Perhaps you were wrong and in the end you should put one of your plans to avoid it into place?

A few seconds of thinking go by, no one says anything and you could swear the tension is filling the air around your new group.

"Oh, that's the song!" Fake excitement in your voice tricks everyone into looking at you. "I promise, remember? If it comes on, we'll dance."

Yoongi looks confused for a second, but it doesn't take him long to finally understand, "right, the song. Sorry guys, been waiting all night."

Jay dismisses him smiling with a pat on the back, saying something about not breaking promises and Yoongi takes your hand.

Looking around, you try to find your friends, hoping to copy Mai's moves and keep up with the plan even when you're a self proclaimed not dancer. But they aren't in sight and even if you can't really prove it since your back is facing them, you feel like Jay's and the girl's eyes are on you.

Ugh. Why did you use this plan?

Why was this something you even thought about?

When Yoongi stops and positions himself in front of you, you get closer, sliding an arm on top of his shoulders pretending you're positioning yourself to dance, copying the random couple beside you.

"I don't know what I'm doing," you confess in a whisper.

"What do you mean?” He looks for your eyes, hair strain coming out of place when his head lowers a little, "you want to go back and sit down?"

"No, then they would know I lied," you're still trying to figure out why in the first place and don't need the embarrassment too, "but I don't know how to dance."

He chuckles, "here, I'll help." And holds your hips softly, moving them to the beat of the song, matching your movements with his own. "Relax. Don't think too much about it."

"If I don't, how do I know how to move?" It doesn't make sense and is a bit frustrating, honestly.

"Is not a dance competition, or the grant ball, princess. Just do what feels right."

He catches you looking at your feet and brings you closer, eliminating the gap between your bodies completely. "Don't do that," one of his hands travels to the small of your back, keeping you in place.

"Sorry," you say against his neck. Not intentionally, but because of your height difference, there's no other option. In an effort to not be so dependent on him, both your arms move around his neck and you try to move your hips in a way that in the end doesn't match his movements completely, causing you to bum into his front. He makes a sound that you assume is a complaint at your skills and another apology rolls through your lips.

"Turn around," Yoongi commands, applying pressure to one side of your hip.

You comply, confused even when you feel his hands on your waist. "Well, I'm going to assume you been fucked before, miss casual all the time," with his chest against your back, you can feel his laugh. "Open your legs a little," one of his feets kicks gently between yours, fixing your stand. "You want to lead or should I?"

"...You." Is the safest, you decide. Your turn to assume he surpasses your experience at that too.

“Some describe dancing like a good fuck," he explains, hands softly making their way a bit lower to your hips, "because you have to learn your partner. Find a rhythm together." His movements start slow, moving your body with his from side to side, with small circles of the hips.

Your hands fall on top of his, not knowing what else to do with them. They're soft, which for some reason is unexpected.

"I have dancer friends and they never described it like that..."

"Not to you, probably," he laughs and when you stop the movements to throw an angry look his way — because you're pretty sure that's some kind of insult,— he chuckles, before continuing the swaying of your hips. "Calm down, princess. I meant, they probably just weren't teaching you this kind of dance."

And that makes sense. You can't imagine dancing with your friends like this. You can barely believe you're doing it with a stranger.

Your shyness must have shown, because his next question is why did you even choose this song.

"I was trying to help and get you away from whatever that was," you lift your head, eyes away from your feet and the color lights projecting on the floor, and sure enough, behind red bangs, the girl is looking in your direction.

Your hips halt.

Yoongi catches up a bit too late, bumping his pelvis into you.

"What ar—"

"She is looking." Cutting him off, you want to hide as if you were the one caught doing something she wasn't supposed to. So, you try to turn around on his arms but his hold is firm.

A new song starts, the rhythm not much different.

"Help me with another song?"

You try again, this time using your hands on top of his to soften the grip. He gives in. And after a look at his face, you nod.

You can decide if it's sadness or anger that you see, not knowing him well enough to tell — or at all, to be honest — but either way, there's a part of you that can relate. One for each emotion.

Throwing your hair back, letting all black strands fall over your back, your arms go back over his shoulders, this time your chest flush against him a little more than last.

Yoongi says thanks and you kiss his cheek as his hands hold you again. His movements are more determined and even his fingers form dents over the fabric of your dress.

Assuming his demeanor changed only for the specific viewer doesn't sound too crazy, and you want to confirm the theory by looking at his face, see if he is looking behind you at her. Your eyes travel against the direction the few sweat drops over his skin go, and when they reach Yoongi's, he is looking back at you.

Your body stops.

"Fuck" he whispers when the front of his pelvis bumps yours. "You really need to stop doing that."

"Sorry. Told you I can't dance."

He chuckles.

Your bottom lip forms a small pout. "Don't be mean. I'm trying to help you, remember?" And you initiate the movements again, starting to get the hang of it. Kind of.

"You're not much help right now if you keep making me dry hump into you," this time he is the one stopping, making it so you bump into his front and you can feel the outline of his growing erection.

"Yoo—"

"Exactly," he says so matter of fact, "you're the mean one."

Lowering your head, you try to not think too much about it. It doesn't make you want to run away or kick him, but you also don't want to make him feel like kicking you away. You keep repeating to yourself that is normal with this type of dance, that there's probably more than one hard on at the club right now and how you're probably not the only one who is getting we—

Damn it. Just stop thinking about it.

Yoongi stops your body from moving, and when you realize he has been calling your name, you're even more embarrassed by your thoughts.

"I'm sorry. That was too much, I shouldn't have. We can go sit now." His eyes are looking straight at you, letting you know he's being sincere.

"I need some air."

Without even bothering to wait for a confirmation that he is following or not, you make your way to the side door of the club. The autumn breeze hits your skin as soon as you step into the alley, instantly calming your hormones down.

Hands cover your face in shame after reclining on the wall. Can you stop acting like it was the first time you felt a penies? Because even if it hasn't happened in a while, it doesn't mean the score goes back to zero.

"Should I bring Hoseok?" Yoongi asks a few steps in front of you and you jump a little, shaking your head after.

"I'm good. You can go back in."

"I'm not leaving you alone here. Do you want him or Mai to kill me?"

A small chuckle leaves your throat and one from him follows it.

"And you think he wouldn't kill you for—" stop. You can't think about it.

"For dancing like that with you? Probably. But he also set this date up, so..." Out of the corner of your eye you can see him shrug, "can't complain unless you hate me now."

"I don't hate you."

"Is okay if you do."

"It… it just surprised me."

"In a bad or good way?"

"A good one." You answer directly in a strain of honesty.

"So you're not really the casual type, uh?" He teases after a couple seconds of silence.

"Maybe I just don't like doing casual in the middle of the club," you defend.

"I don't know, you were the one that kept humping into me."

Your mouth opens and closes, finally looking at him and his stupid lips pull up in a smirk. You want to erase it so bad.

"Shut up."

"Make me."

And you do.

Skipping forward, right hand flying to the back of his neck to pull him in and you're able to touch his lips with yours.

He is quick to react. Kissing you back, his hands on either side of your waist pulling your body into his. But you're trying to prove a point, to defend yourself. So, you pull away slightly, making sure your lips are just about to touch.

He pulls in.

Allowing just a peck, you move.

You kind of regret not using your cherry lip gloss, because you know for sure that knowing you're so close for him to smell it but not taste it, would be the biggest tease.

You let him lean in again, not moving this time and he sighs. You smile against his lips just before his tongue asks for permission to enter your mouth. Again, you regret your simple choice of a simple red lip tint, but remind yourself that this date wasn't supposed to go like this. That Yoongi doesn't seem like the guy he was supposed to be, not what he was advertised by your friends.

Fighting back control, your left arm joins the other around his neck, moving your lips expertly and feeling his chest rise and fall quickly against yours. Is pretty much the position you were in on the dance floor minus the grinding.

Casual in the middle of the club is not your thing. Casual in general is actually not something you have experience with. But kissing? You've mastered it thanks to your past relationships and the avoidance of jumping into someone's bed right from the start.

A moan vibrates through your lips against Yoongi's, and even if it's part of the routine, you must admit is pretty real. A soft groan is his answer and the cue for your heels to touch the floor again. His hold tightens in reaction, making your dress rise up and covering a couple inches less of your thighs. Suddenly you're aware of the wind again as a breeze runs up your legs, towards the center of your panties.

Your breath caughts on your throat and Yoongi swallows any sounds before pulling away.

"Fuck," he breaths heavily, "we've to stop."

"Why? Are you not really the casual type?" You tease, stealing his line.

The left corner of his mouth lifts, before falling again in a millisecond. "Not with you."

Should I’ve added “cliffhanger” to the warnings? haha i swear is gonna be okayyyy ♡ Tag list: @n33mesis , @mggv97 , @wobblewobble822 , @bbou-doir , @m00njinnie , @nariee02 , @sexytholland . hope you guys like this one <3

173 notes · View notes

talesofesther · 3 months

Text

what once was mine | ch 8

Loki x Reader

Series Summary: When watching what once was supposed to be the rest of his life, in an empty room in the TVA, Loki sees someone he can't recognize; a girl who's all tenderness and loose smiles, and most importantly, she was smiling at him.

A/N: Yes, this is long overdue and I'm sorry for the long wait; but now it's finally here and I hope you can enjoy it, we're nearing the end :'). If it's been too long since you've read the other chapters, I'd maybe recommend checking them out again because we're picking it up right where we left off. The next chapters will be posted soon <3. Also, Mobius plays cupid here and we love him for it lol.

Masterlist | Read ch 7 here

You kept your head down as you walked, not particularly looking at where you were going. Rogue tears were falling onto TVA's hallways with each step you took, a hand covered your mouth to stifle the sobs. The sight of your rapidly moving shoes became more unfocused by the second.

You needed an out, you needed to breathe. And you didn't care that the bathroom you rushed into was a communal one, you slammed the door shut behind you and turned the lock, praying that the stalls were empty.

Silence hung in the air, the only sound being your heavy breathing. Gulping back a massive lump in your throat, you leaned back against the closed door. The smooth wood was cold, feeling going past the fabric of your shirt and raising goosebumps on your skin. With the back of your hand, you tried drying your tears.

Would this be it? Were you truly broken beyond repair?

You wanted to shout apologies in the air; for the Loki you'd just found, he deserved it, he did nothing wrong; for yourself, for the bruised heart beating in your chest that you'd promised to mend.

Part of you also wanted to berate yourself for being overly sentimental and utterly incapable of processing your feelings. For being stuck in this limbo.

You pressed your palms to your eyes, feeling them dampening, fingers shaking.

His touch had been like a bonfire on a cold night—a strange metaphor, given the fact his skin was usually colder than yours; yet it held truth—it enveloped your heart in a warm and familiar embrace, the most blissful kind of pain. It hurt, you couldn't quite place why, but it did.

Maybe it was the fear of knowing you wouldn't be able to live through another loss.

There were telltales of a steady rhythm thudding beneath your skin and through your veins; the ghosts of it tickled your fingertips and called out your name. His heartbeat, as real as you'd pleaded for in countless sleepless nights.

And when you finally held it in your hands again…

'But you're not him.'

You regretted it, probably as soon as the words left your mouth. Because… they were a lie. A lie you told yourself for fear of losing him, again.

Yet now, you couldn't help but feel like you just did.

─── ·❆· ───

Thor had once told Loki about the red string of fate—when the god of thunder had been strangely obsessed with Midgardian folklore in his teenage years. A red string that connected soulmates, it could stretch and bend as the two souls drifted apart and then met again, however, it would never break.

Now, as Loki heard your steps getting further and further away from him, he couldn't help but hear a snap.

Maybe he was the one who fucked it up, maybe it was his fault. You weren't his to have or to lose anyway. As much as he wished you were.

Loki stood awkwardly by your desk; he felt almost as if he was invading just because this was your space and, as you'd just made abundantly clear, you wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

He took advantage of your secluded nook to brush off the tear tracks on his cheeks—he didn't need anyone asking questions he barely knew the answers to—before running a hand through his hair, straightening the collar of his jacket, and taking a deep, hopefully steadying, breath.

For the first time, he felt utterly lost, without a north to guide him. He stalled by neatly organizing the mess that was your desk, thinking maybe you'd have a change of heart and come back to him. He stacked documents, organized pencils, and even folded a cardigan of yours that was hanging on the back of your chair.

Loki stalled the longest he could, until there was nothing more to tidy and no hope left. When you didn't come back, he walked up to the elevator, and now stared at the many buttons without knowing which to press. Truth be told, his mind was miles away; focused on the feeling of your soft skin against his and the sweet perfume of your shampoo. Would he ever get to feel you so close again?

"Hold it, please," Mobius called from a few steps away, hurriedly walking towards Loki. The god extended a hand to hold the doors open for him.

Mobius skipped into the elevator with a big sigh, clutching a rather large stack of documents to his chest. "Thanks," he breathed, shooting a glance at Loki. A beat passed and he did a double take, with a frown as he looked Loki over, who still glared at the buttons in front of him, all puffy eyes and pouty lips. "… What happened?" Mobius' voice held the tone of someone who probably already knew the answer he'd get. He reached past Loki and pressed the button that led to the cafeteria—a coffee break couldn't hurt.

For long seconds, Loki kept silent, contemplating whether to lie or be honest. He felt too drained to come up with a lie. "I… believe I messed it up."

Mobius didn't need names. He raised a hand to pat Loki's shoulder. "She'll come around, buddy."

Loki's eyebrows softened, he had a faint, bittersweet smile on his lips as his eyes welled up with tears again. It stung, bitterly. Perhaps he was never destined for happy endings. It was okay, he decided, he'd be okay with loving you from afar; so long as he got to love you at all. He already counted his lucky stars that the slim odds were in his favor and he got to meet you. "I don't think she will."

The weight of his words didn't go unnoticed by Mobius, who turned to Loki with a rather bewildered expression. "You really do like her… Don't you?"

Loki lowered his head, lips parting in a futile attempt to try and word his feelings. All he managed was a defeated sigh as he brought a hand up to rub one of his eyes. That was answer enough.

─── ·❆· ───

It's been a week. Or at least what would be the equivalent of a week in the TVA. You didn't know if you were the one avoiding Loki or if he was the one avoiding you. But you haven't seen each other ever since you said those hurtful words to him.

Your spoon clicked against the ceramic of your mug, stirring a coffee that had probably already gone cold. You stared off into space, watching from a secluded corner table as a few of your colleagues walked by with their own coffees, yet not actually seeing it. Your mind was elsewhere, drifting between what-ifs.

It's been like this, for this past week. Your mind mostly numb, stuck on auto-pilot. You couldn't stop thinking about him, couldn't stop missing him; his presence had become such a constant in your life these past couple of months that now that you didn't have it, a part of you felt hollow and empty. There was always a vacant chair beside you that left you feeling perpetually cold and alone.

The last few nights had been more sleepless than not, guilt ate away at your insides and kept you from diving into deep slumber. You wondered if the few grimaced smiles you received from your colleagues today were because you'd forgotten to hide the faint dark circles under your eyes.

"Good morning sunshine," Mobius slid into the chair next to you, placing his steaming mug on the table along with a single donut on a small plate. He took a momentary glance at you and his smile dropped a tad, "or maybe not so good."

You tried giving your friend a decent smile but you could tell by the look on his face that it didn't reach your eyes.

"I'll probably regret asking," Mobius pulled his chair closer, taking a sip of his coffee before continuing, "but what's wrong?"

You've never liked it when people asked you that question, it made you wish that your problems really were simple enough to be put into words. You avoided his eyes, something akin to shame and timidness twisting your stomach. "I'm- I'm not sure," a frown came to your brows, as if you were finally seeing past the fog. You shook your head softly, "I think I messed up."

"So I keep hearing," Mobius sighed. It wasn't condescending, no; it just looked like he was in on a secret you didn't know.

"I'm just… I'm so scared, Mobius." There was a sway to your voice that wasn't there before, with your heart on your mouth beating as raw as the wound you'd carried for so long. "I'm-" You hesitated, words heavy as you closed your eyes briefly. "I'm scared, and I'm still so confused."

You could feel the familiar sting of tears building behind your eyes. "I've wanted him back for so long, and seeing him again like this, it just-" Your lips hovered, trembling. You felt a warm touch landing on one of your hands, reassuring. You squeezed Mobius' fingers in gratitude. "… Now I have memories with him that only I've lived, and part of me still doesn't know what to think, what to do. And if I ever were to lose him again, I- I don't think I could…"

With a gentle nod, Mobius took hold of both your hands, he spoke slowly, "I understand… Well, maybe I don't," he chuckled, and when a small and genuine smile crept onto your lips, a proud glint came to his eyes. "But don't you think that, sometimes, we complicate things too much?" He asked, voice tender and drowning out the increasing hustle and bustle of TVA's cafeteria.

"You got him back." Mobius gave your hands a gentle shake to accentuate his words, voice low yet dripping with hope and excitement; "Yeah, maybe he comes from a little before you two met, but it's still the same Loki." He tilted his head with a tight smile, urging you to take his words to heart. "The one thing you wanted ever since you got here, don't you see how lucky you are? Maybe you should just let yourself be happy about that for a change."

For long seconds that felt like hours, you stayed silent, only feeling the bruising beating of your heart against your ribs. The air left your lungs and you had trouble pulling it back in.

He was right, wasn't he?

Maybe you could allow yourself to be happy after all this time. Maybe you could finally go to where your heart had been trying to lead you to. Maybe you really did get a second chance.

Yet, like freefalling into a frozen lake, the last words you'd said to him came rushing back. "I hurt him, Mobius." You winced at the memory, at the desolate look that had painted Loki's eyes as soon as you uttered the words.

'But you're not him.'

Oh, you couldn't have been more wrong then. Because when he looks at you with that same shine to his gentle eyes that had captivated you since the first time you'd met him on the grounds of New Asgard, when his voice takes on that special tone that's kept for you only, when he touches you with the same delicacy you'd always known, when he has the same bashful smile, laughs at the same jokes, drinks the same tea. How could he not be your Loki?

"It was the last thing I wanted, and it happened, and now I- I don't know if there's a way back from-"

"Listen to me," Mobius cut you off before you could go downhill into a pity party, "he's miserable, okay?" He spoke matter-of-factly, to which you only raised your eyebrows. "I'm serious, you should've seen him this morning, looked like a kicked puppy. Trust me when I tell you you're hurting him more by staying away." He added with a smirk; "and you two are killing me with all this 'will they, won't they'."

A small laugh escaped you as you raised a hand to dry your eyes and squeezed Mobius' ones with the other in a gesture that you hoped conveyed the immense gratitude you felt for him.

You missed Loki. You missed him so much it felt like a part of your soul had been torn out.

"Do you have any idea of where he is right now?"

─── ·❆· ───

You stepped into the smoked glass doorway as if you were walking a tightrope that might snap at any second. You held your breath as you went through, eyes closed, and hands clammy.

A familiarity lay heavy in the cold and fresh air, it has brought you peace many times before. The frozen grass crunched beneath your feet and the rustling of leaves did little to drown out the loud beating of your heart. You didn't need to open your eyes to know where you were, but you did anyway.

The clearing was the same as it's always been, with a few trees on both of the far sides, a clean and starry night sky that adorned the beginnings of the spectacle that was the northern lights, and finally, the lonely wooden bench in the middle.

Loki sat on the far right side of the bench you once shared. The night was cold and he only wore a simple dress shirt, for a second you wondered if he was not cold, before remembering his origins.

The moment feelt intimate, precious. You wondered if he knew you were there and chose to stay silent, or if he was too lost in his own what-ifs. You wondered if he's missed you as much as you missed him.

Your feet were glued to the ground, you noticed. Hands closed tightly into fists and mouth dry. A part of you remained so afraid still, as if, now that you're here, it might be too late.

From afar, you admired how Loki's hair flowed effortlessly with the breeze, coming loose from behind his ears and making you wish to run your fingers through it. He had his left hand lying beside him, fingertips touching the wood of the bench; as if reaching for something, someone, who's not there.

You caught it then, how, with the corner of his eye, he finally noticed your presence. You caught it by how his shoulders immediately tensed up and he looked straight ahead as if bracing for something.

No turning back now. You took the first step towards him.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Ch 9 coming soon.

I no longer make taglists. You can follow @talesofesther-library and turn notifications on to know when I've posted a new story/chapter.

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki #marvel #loki series #loki x you #marvel x reader #loki x female reader #imagine #fanfic #angst #fluff #what once was mine #loki fanfic #my story #loki laufeyson x reader

177 notes · View notes

lewmagoo · 7 months

Text

six summers | bob floyd

description: it's been six years. six years since you walked away from the man you loved. six years since the night that your own foolish actions led to the disappearance of sixteen-year-old melissa seresin. you’ve spent these last few years living with crippling guilt. and after everything that happened, the last thing you are expecting is an invite to return to the camp and reassume your role as counselor. but here you are, staring in disbelief at a letter asking you to do just that. providing you with the opportunity to make things right. will you be able to come to terms with the past and allow yourself to accept this second chance? or will you let your guilt consume you?

characters: bob floyd x reader, the dagger squad as their respective characters, pete mitchell, penny benjamin, a number of my own ocs

warnings: 18+ only, mentions of death, guilt, references to sex, mentions of anxiety

series status: ongoing

listen to the playlist here!

this story is inspired by @ryebecca and this fantastic moodboard she made ; i also drew some inspiration from riley sager's the last time i lied

*this is my own original work - i do not consent to having it reposted or redistributed in any way

July 30th, 1980

1:15 am

All you felt was terror. Icy cold, like someone had shoved their frigid fingers beneath your shirt, digits pressing harsh, angry bruises into the skin while they were at it. Your arms were wrapped around yourself as you stood in the damp morning air, your eyes flitting about nervously, your gut churning with nausea.

“You do realize that your negligence in this situation is going to come with consequences, right? How could you be so stupid?!” Penny Mitchell’s voice had a sharp edge to it, despite her lowered tone. Her eyes were piercing. You couldn’t look at her.

“Don’t try to pin this all on her. I’m just as much to blame.” That was Bobby’s voice, coming from beside you, an air of protectiveness emanating from him as he stepped closer, standing in solidarity with you.

“Oh, trust me, I’m holding you responsible, too. But she’s the one who was supposed to be in charge of that cabin. If she would have been at her post, this wouldn’t have happened. But no! The two of you were off doing God knows what, while one of our campers wandered off into the night!”

Penny got into your face, pointing her finger, her anger palpable, radiating off her in waves. “You had better pray that girl is still alive, because if she winds up dead, her blood is on your hands, counselor.”

May 18th, 1986

10:30 am

“Mail’s in!” The voice of your roommate carried through your apartment, pulling your attention from the rhythmic tapping of the antique typewriter you’d picked up from a yard sale. Without a second thought, you sprang from your chair, flinging open your bedroom door, bare feet quick against carpet as you hurried toward the kitchen, where Margie was just walking through the door with a stack of mail.

“Any of it addressed to me?” You asked, a hopeful inflection in your voice.

Margie nodded, tossing the envelopes onto the countertop. “Yeah, you’re popular, got two letters addressed to you.”

Eagerly, you shuffled through the stack before you located the letters she was talking about. One had no definitive markings, so you had no idea where it was from. But the other had a promising logo on the front– The Capital Gazette.

“The Gazette sent something back!” You exclaimed, flipping the envelope over, fingers trembling as you tore into the seal.

Margie gasped, her attention immediately zeroing in on the letter you held. “What did they say?!” She exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Gimme a minute!” You shot back as you rushed to unfold the paper. Your eyes hurriedly scanned the contents, but within moments, your shoulders fell, the thrill of hope fading away to heavy disappointment. The words we regret to inform you were all you needed to read to know what the letter was about.

“I didn’t get the job,” came your glum statement.

“What?” Margie snatched the paper off the counter when you let it drop, reading it for herself. “Oh, come on! You’re the best damn writer I know, how could they turn you down?!”

You shook your head, fighting the tears of disappointment that had gathered on your lash line. “They don’t need me. They’ve got better writers.”

“That’s bullshit!” She huffed, shaking her head, knocking some of her unkempt curls loose from her haphazard ponytail.

“Whatever,” you said, bitterly. “There are other newspapers I can apply to. Other magazines. People are hiring all over the place,” you said, hoping to instill hope in your own heart. But it did little to lift your spirits.

Your roommate sighed softly, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder. “I’m sorry. Really.”

“Thanks, Mar. So am I.”

Her attention shifted to the other, unopened letter on the counter. “What’s that one say?”

With a clueless shrug, you reached for it. All it bore was your address in handwriting that was oddly familiar. Tentatively, you tore into the envelope, brows furrowed as you unfolded the paper and began to read.

And then, “holy shit.”

“What is it?” Margie demanded, curious. When you looked at her, she noticed the expression of worry etched into your brow.

“Camp Mitchell,” you whispered.

At that, the woman’s eyes went wide. “Oh my God.” And then, she waved her hand, motioning you on. “What does it say?”

“They…they want me to come back as a counselor.”

I hope this letter finds you well. I am reaching out to you because I wanted to extend a formal invitation to return to camp as a counselor this summer. I know that things ended on a sour note for all of us involved, but Pete and I desire to breathe new life into this camp. We want to give other campers the chance to experience the wonder and magic of summertime at Camp Mitchell. I understand if you would prefer not to return, but it would be an honor to have you back with us again. Think we can agree to let bygones be bygones? I sure do hope so. Please give me a call at the number below and let me know if you would like to return and reassume your role as a camp counselor. Arrival deadline for counselors is May 24th. Hope to see you soon!

Best wishes,

Penny Mitchell

You stared at the words in absolute shock. They wanted you to come back? After everything that had happened? After your own foolishness had resulted in a girl going missing? You had to admit, it was a bold move on Penny’s part.

The police had heavily investigated you when young Melissa Seresin went missing six years prior. Penny had even blamed you for the girl’s disappearance. It was hard to imagine her wanting you to come anywhere near her camp ever again.

“I need to sit down,” you muttered, tossing the letter back onto the counter and stepping toward the kitchen table, where you hurriedly pulled out one of the chairs and lowered yourself into the seat. Two life-altering events had just taken place in the span of five minutes. You needed to process all of it.

As you tried to regain your wits, Margie scanned over the letter. Then, she sauntered over to you, letting out a sigh as she pulled out the chair across from you and flopped down into it, her legs parted, arms falling down to dangle over the sides. She blew a pesky curl away from her face.

Sympathetic brown eyes landed upon you, and the girl before you smiled softly. Understandingly. “What are you gonna do?”

“I really don’t know,” you said. “Since the job with The Gazette fell through…I might have no choice but to take up the offer to go back to camp. At least I’d be making some kind of income during the summer while I try to figure things out.”

Margie raised a dark brow. “Listen, you do what you think is best for you. But…after everything that happened there, are you sure you’re ready to go back? It’s only been six years.” She was not coming from a place of judgment. She was coming from a place of genuine concern for her friend.

You groaned softly, placing your head in your hands. “I dunno know what to do. Honestly, I’m not ready. But then again it might give me closure. And maybe that’s what Penny is thinking. If she wants to make things right with me after the way things ended…maybe I should go.”

The girl sighed. “Yeah, I guess closure might be something that comes outta this. I just don’t want you to have to go through all that shit again, though.”

Your mouth quirked into a grateful smile. “I know, Mar. I’ve gotta think about it, first. I’m not making any decisions yet.”

“Well, let me know what you decide. Whatever choice you make, I’ll support you.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

As Margie left you at the table to be alone with your thoughts, you considered the weight of the situation. It had all happened so fast, and you felt as if you were caught up in a whirlwind. You only had a week to make a decision, because you had to be at camp on the 24th if you decided to go.

Were you ready to go back, after only six short years? The thought made your stomach turn. Camp Mitchell was a place that held a lot of trauma for you. Your life had fallen apart there.

You had been a first-year counselor in the summer of 1980. A job meant to get you through the summer, before you returned to college in the fall. You remembered being so hopeful and excited about what the summer held.

Camp Mitchell was a camp situated in Michigan’s wilderness. Secluded, surrounded by forests as far as the eye could see. Quaint little wooden cabins. A mess hall. A volleyball pit. A lake. All the other amenities that a typical summer camp would have.

You were put in charge of the junior/senior girls' cabin. Eleventh and twelfth graders. You were slightly intimidated because you were only a few years older than they were. You worried that they would not respect you. But much to your relief, the girls accepted you with open arms.

Throughout the many weeks of camp, you bonded with several different girls who passed through your cabin. But none of them connected as well with you as Melissa Seresin.

July 1980

She was the younger sister of one of the other counselors, Jake Seresin, and she was sweet as could be. She attended camp most of the summer, because her brother worked there, and she didn’t want to remain stuck at home alone while her parents traveled for the summer.

So, she tagged along with Jake. Unlike her brother, she was not cocky. She had a very kindhearted demeanor. A little spoiled, once in a while, due to being the youngest and only girl of rich parents and a doting older brother, but nothing you couldn’t tolerate.

Melissa remained a semi-permanent fixture in your cabin, even as groups of girls from different places — schools, church youth groups, family groups, so on and so forth — passed through all summer.

She knew the camp like the back of her hand, and had spent a few summers there already. You didn’t have to worry about her like you might other campers, because she was well aware of the camp’s procedures.

That was why it was so jarring when, one night in the middle of the summer, she disappeared without a trace.

Late one night, after lights out, the girls in your cabin noticed her absence. Melissa was always in bed come lights out. Not always asleep, but certainly always present. Her neatly made, unoccupied bed raised suspicions, but it was her missing backpack that made the girls think that she had left altogether.

You were not at your post like you were supposed to be. Earlier that night, you had enforced lights out, but soon after had slipped out into the night to meet someone. The girls ranged from fifteen to eighteen years old, so you were not particularly concerned about them getting up to mischief. But in your haste to leave, you neglected to double-check that Melissa was present.

To your utter shame, you had left to meet up with another counselor. The head counselor of the seventh and eighth-grade boys' cabin, Robert Floyd. Bob to his friends. Mr. Bob to the campers. Bobby to you, and only you.

It wasn’t in your nature to sneak around. Neither was it in Bob’s. But you had gotten tangled up in an impassioned summer fling, and you took advantage of every free moment you had to be together.

It was in that time span of you and Bob sneaking off to the lake, that Melissa had gone missing. And when you returned to the cabin an hour later, the girls were all awake, in a slight state of upheaval.

“Where have you been?!” Asked Claudia, one of the senior girls. “I was about to leave and go find Mrs. Mitchell!”

“I needed some air. Why, what’s up?” You cautiously asked.

Claudia motioned to Melissa’s empty bed. “Melissa never made it in for lights out.”

You stared at the bed, its covers untouched and meticulously tucked in, as a hotel bed would be. That was the way she made it every morning. She hadn’t been in that bed since last night. “No, she was here when I left!” You insisted.

“Um, no she wasn’t,” Marissa, another senior, piped up. “Plus, her backpack is gone.”

“Oh, God. Well, that’s my bad for sure. Okay, um, I’m sure she can’t have gotten far. She knows this camp well. Don’t worry, I’ll go take a look around. The rest of you, stay put. Lemme just do a count to make sure nobody else went off with her.”

After a headcount, you came up with fourteen girls. Melissa would make fifteen, so she was the only one missing. Huffing out a sigh, and attempting to keep yourself calm and neutral so the girls wouldn’t panic, you squared your shoulders.

“I’ll go grab another counselor and we’ll take a look. Claudia, you’re the oldest, so you’re in charge. Make sure no one leaves. The rest of you, try to get some sleep. I know you’re a little freaked right now but it’s gonna be okay.” The biggest lie you could have told them. It was, in fact, not going to be okay.

“What should we do if she comes back?” Claudia asked, running a nervous hand through her thick brunette locks. Her dark eyes were fearful, although she was trying to appear brave, just as you were trying to do.

“Just make sure she stays put. I’ll come back and check in a bit, if I don’t find her, and we can touch base then.”

Once you were certain the girls understood the plan, you excused yourself again, stepping out into the humid July night. Crickets sang as you ambled down the path that led to the boys’ cabins, but the pounding of your heart in your ears drowned out the sound.

Your hands shook, unsteady as you held your flashlight before you. Tears blurred your vision, and the heat of embarrassment washed over you. How could you be so stupid? Here you were, off getting laid while one of your girls was nowhere to be found.

You had to look for her, but you weren’t going to do it alone. Hurriedly, you ascended the steps of cabin 13, the first of the boys’ cabins. Light on your feet, so as not to step on any squeaky boards, you crept closer to the door.

Three soft raps, five seconds apart. That was your code. And sure enough, within moments, the door inched open, and there was your Bobby. You had just seen him twenty minutes prior, but he’d already changed into his sleep clothes. An old camp shirt and basketball shorts.

Brow furrowed, he quietly closed the door behind him, stepping out onto the porch. You reached for his hand and guided him off the porch, onto the soft, sandy ground. “What’s goin’ on, Kit?” He asked. The nickname he’d dubbed you for reasons so much more lighthearted than the situation you were facing.

“Melissa’s gone,” you whispered. “The girls said she was never there for lights out.”

“Huh? But you checked on them before you left.”

“I did, but I…I guess I just missed Melissa. I thought she was there, but tonight was so chaotic…God, I can’t believe I could be so stupid” You despaired.

“Shh,” Bob soothed, reaching out to run comforting hands down your arms. “Hey, she probably just went for a walk. I’m not close to her, but I know she likes to go and write in that journal of hers a lot. She’s probably doing that.”

“But that’s not like her. Yeah, she writes in her diary but she’s never done this before. Just…up and left like that. I’m scared, Bobby. I think something might’ve happened to her. And it’s all my fault.”

But he was already shaking his head. “No, don’t even let your mind go there. You’ll drive yourself crazy.” His hands had moved to cup your cheeks. “Tell you what, I’ll help you look for her. If we don’t find her in the next hour, we can tell Penny and get a search party goin’.”

You prayed it wouldn’t come to that, but the sick feeling in your gut told you otherwise. It was your fault, no matter how much Bobby tried to assure you it wasn’t. If Melissa was truly missing, then you were the one to blame. But you didn’t dare speak it into the air. You couldn’t.

“O-okay. We can look together, then.”

And so, the two of you set off on the search for Melissa Seresin. Missy, as her brother liked to call her. You thought of Jake, who was in charge of the senior boys’ cabin. You knew he’d be pissed that you didn’t wake him up immediately and tell him what was going on. He was very protective of his baby sister. But you didn’t want to involve him just yet. You had to try to find her yourself, first.

You set out to search all the places she frequented. Melissa wasn’t as outgoing as her brother. She had a vibrant personality, but also had introverted tendencies. She cherished her alone time, so it wasn’t odd for her to be at the lake, or the horse stables, writing. But she was always visible, and she had never sneaked off before. And certainly not after dark, either.

These woods were terrifying at night. It was easy to get lost in their vastness. Even a girl who knew her way around could get lost. But you prayed that wasn’t the case.

You took to searching her usual hangout spots. The lake, even though you and Bob had been there a half hour ago, and hadn’t seen her. Sure enough, she wasn’t there. Then, you took a peek in the horse stables. The camp had not yet obtained horses to occupy the stables, so it was just an empty building.

Hopeful, you followed Bob inside, holding your breath as he called out, “Melissa? You in here, honey? It’s Bob Floyd.”

But you were met with dead silence, so deafening it brought a shiver down your spine. “Oh, my God. She’s gone. She’s gone forever. This is all my fault!” You panicked, burying your face in your hands.

Bobby, ever the calm and steady one, gently soothed you. “Hey. Hey! Look at me.”

You lifted your tearful eyes to his face, illuminated by the yellow glow of your flashlight.

“It’s gon’ be okay, alright? We’ll find her. We just need to go get Penny and Pete and tell ‘em what happened. We can get a search party organized. We’ll cover more ground that way.”

Lovingly, he took your hand, and together, you made the trek back toward the main part of camp, where the office, mess hall, and staff quarters were. The entire walk, your mind was spiraling with all the possibilities of what could have happened to Melissa.

Something was wrong. You knew it.

And, as it would turn out, you were, unfortunately, right. Melissa Seresin never was found. Not when you and the other counselors organized a search party. Not when the police got involved. Not when Jake and Melissa’s dad, an agent in the FBI, got his team involved. It was as if she’d vanished into thin air. Gone without a trace.

Jake blamed you. But that was okay, because you blamed yourself, too.

Your own negligence was the reason Melissa was gone. And the police grilled you for it. Much to your utter relief, the Seresins chose not to press charges. But you were left to live with the guilt, and that was punishment enough.

And now, here you were. Six years later. Wounds from the past only partially healed. Presented with an opportunity to go back to the place where it all started, and ended. If you did return, would those wounds reopen, and drain the blood from your veins? Or would those wounds finally heal?

And most importantly, did you have the guts to find out?

One Week Later

A ticket reading Harper, Michigan was clutched tightly in your hand, the paper rumpling from your grip. Your suitcase and duffel bag were beside you, as you stood at the bus depot, waiting for the Greyhound to pull up and take you to your destination.

“I still think you’re crazy for this,” Margie spoke from beside you. She’d come to see you off.

You turned to her, taking in her soft smile, despite her disapproval of your choice. “I know,” you replied.

“But I also understand why you want to do this. I really hope it gives you the closure you’re looking for.”

You threw your arms around your friend’s shoulders, hugging her tight. “Thanks, Mar. I’ll try to give you a call at some point in the next few weeks, but the only phone on the property is the one in the main office and I doubt I’ll have time.”

“Don’t worry about it. You can tell me all about it when you get back,” she assured you.

You took one last good look at her, as you knew you wouldn’t see her for a few months, if you fulfilled your commitment to work the entire camp season. The late morning sun shone down from the sky, illuminating her dark curls. Always so unkempt, but the style suited her.

“I’ll be seeing ya,” you finally said.

She nodded, squeezing your hand. “Take care of yourself. And good luck.”

The bus pulled into the stop as you bid your final goodbyes, and then, you handed off your luggage to the attendant to pack away beneath the bus before you climbed the steps into the large vehicle, flashing your ticket to the driver. You took a seat toward the back, settling in and placing your purse beside you, hoping that you would get two of the tackily upholstered seats all to yourself.

As soon as you were settled, you fished your Walkman out of your bag, unraveling the headphones and placing them on your head. As soon as you hit play, the opening sound of the 1975 Eagles album, One of These Nights, filled your ears.

You had purposely chosen this tape to accompany you on your trip, because it held a lot of nostalgic memories for you. Namely, it had been a gift from your Bobby. He’d given it to you in the beginning stages of your romance, after you’d expressed to him that the album was one of your favorites.

“I want you to have it,” he insisted. “A memento that you can have all the time, to remind you of what a great time we had together here.”

And you did have a great time. But the trauma of Melissa’s disappearance had soured the whole thing. All you had left of Bobby was this tape, and a few braided jute bracelets he had made you, from plant fibers. You still wore them on your wrist to this day.

He had tried to keep in contact with you after the camp shut down. He’d sent letters. Called your home phone. But you never answered. As much as you loved him, the reminder of what had happened was too painful, and you let your connection to him fizzle out.

But as you listened to the familiar cords, a rush of memories flooded you, the wave so intense that it took your breath away. Flashes of Bob’s beautiful face. Twinkling eyes, blushing cheeks, a crinkled button nose. The prettiest laughter you’d ever heard.

Large, warm hands exploring. Lips trailing searing kisses down your sternum. Whispers of your name. Groans of pl–

With a gasp, you snatched the headphones off your head, eyes flickering about, as if someone around you could have heard your thoughts. But everyone else was in their own little world, completely oblivious to the salacious flashbacks you had just experienced.

But they made you warm with shame nonetheless.

You’d be foolish not to admit that you’d thought of Bobby over the years. Looked back on your encounters with fondness. With desire. You’d been sexually involved with a few other people since then, but the entire time, you could only think of him. It was why you’d stopped seeing other people. They weren’t your Bobby.

You wondered if he thought about you, too.

More importantly, you wondered if he’d be returning to Camp Mitchell like you were. Were you ready to face him again? The thought made your stomach flutter with butterflies.

You imagined he’d moved on. He had to. Hell, he probably had a wife and kids already. Imagining such a thing sent a queasy rush through you. You still weren’t over him, and you supposed you never would be. He was your first great love.

But he wasn’t the only person you would potentially face from your past.

Your mind went to the other counselors you’d worked with that fateful summer. Specifically, you thought of Jake Seresin. Surely he wouldn’t return to camp, right? Not after his baby sister had disappeared from that very place. It had to be too painful for him.

Little did you know, everyone you had worked with was also traveling from their own respective homes and cities, headed right for Camp Mitchell, just like you were.

The camp was founded by Pete and Penny Mitchell, a husband and wife duo. They had started it with the best of intentions. It was in its fifth successful year when you came on staff. And that just so happened to be the last year it was in operation.

Until now.

What had made the couple decide it was a good idea to reopen the camp, you had no idea. But you were going to give it a chance. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

But several hours later, as the Greyhound pulled into the station in Harper, a tiny town boasting of a general store, a bus depot, and a long, winding road that led up to the camp itself.

As you stepped off the bus, you realized one very important detail: you had no idea how you were even getting up to the camp. Would they send a driver down to retrieve everyone?

Your question was soon answered when you caught sight of a large white poster board propped against a nearby lamppost. CAMP MITCHELL STAFF WAIT HERE. A DRIVER WILL ESCORT YOU TO CAMP.

With a sigh, you rolled your suitcase over to the post, hoping you wouldn’t have to wait long. And you didn’t. About five minutes later, an old teal-colored truck came down the road, its engine obnoxiously loud. On the side, Camp Mitchell was printed in bold letters.

You straightened, smoothing out your travel-rumpled clothes as you grabbed your belongings, prepared to help load everything into the truck. It didn’t even occur to you that you might know the driver. You expected to meet someone entirely new.

As soon as the vehicle pulled to a stop at the curb, you were already moving to the truck bed, hoisting your duffel bag over the side, letting it land with a satisfying thump.

“Here, let me,” a familiar voice spoke up, and in moments, a pair of hands were stealing your suitcase away, heaving it into the bed.

You looked up at the man assisting you, and your blood ran cold. As he turned from putting your luggage in place, he froze, too. Wide blue eyes, no longer hidden beneath a pair of wireframes, locked with your own.

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t.

But he did. In a voice as smooth and soft as butter, yet breathless with surprise. “Kit?”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

Kit. The nickname he’d dubbed you six years ago. It was something so simple. So silly. You’d had an affinity for KitKat bars that summer. They were the only candy bars you liked from the camp store. As a joke, Bobby had said “I should call you KitKat, since you like those things so much.”

And thus, it was shortened to Kit. The name stuck.

Hearing it again made your head spin. You felt woozy on your feet. You swayed a little. A memory flashed in your mind. You and him. Sitting under the old weeping willow. His fingertips wiping chocolate from the corner of your mouth.

It sent a burning ache through your chest.

“Oh my God,” you whispered. “B-Bobby.” The first words you’d spoken to him in six years.

He let out a breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “I didn’t think you’d show.”

You gathered yourself, trying to regain your composure. “I didn’t either,” you whispered.

He offered a tentative smile. “That doesn’t mean I’m not happy to see you, though.”

You lifted your head, brow furrowed in confusion. “You are?”

“Gosh, I am. It’s been too long. I didn’t…didn’t know what happened to you. You never responded to my calls or letters. I thought maybe…” He wouldn’t speak it out loud. He couldn’t.

But you inferred what he meant from his tone. He’d feared that the trauma of what had happened had been too much for you to handle. That you’d succumbed to it all.

“I was working on myself. Trying to heal.”

He nodded. “Understandable.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled again. “I really am glad to see you, though. You look well.”

You shrugged. “I’m workin’ on it. And I’m glad to see you too.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and you realized how much he’d changed, but also stayed the same. He’d filled out. His shoulders were more broad. Muscular. His glasses were gone, presumably replaced with contacts. His hair, once close-cropped, was longer now, curling at the nape of his neck, peeking out from beneath the baseball cap he wore. His jaw was shadowed with stubble.

He looked like a man.

But there was still that boyish glint in his eyes, and hiding behind his smile. Still that same gentleness reserved particularly for you. It was overwhelming, and you could feel your chest beginning to tighten.

“Are you, uh, are you ready to head up there? Or do ya need a minute?” Bobby asked, his voice low. Laced with concern.

You stepped back. “I thought I could do this. Maybe I can’t.”

He let you have your space. “Take all the time you need.”

The rush of memories flooding you was overwhelming. The last time you saw him. The last thing you said to him.

Six Years Ago

The day you left camp, it was raining. Pouring from the sky in sheets, washing everything in a gray hue that made the world look like a watercolor painting.

The sandy ground squashed beneath your feet as you walked toward that old truck, with the camp’s logo on the side. Your luggage was stuffed into the truck bed, wrapped in plastic garbage bags so it wouldn’t get wet in the downpour.

As you climbed into the cab, Bobby came running out of the main office, making a beeline for the truck. He scrambled to wrench open the door and join you inside, breathing labored as he settled into the seat.

For a few moments, it was silent, save for the sound of him moving to start the engine. He fiddled with the heat dial, hoping to reduce the fog on the windows, as the rain had made the air unseasonably chilly that morning.

You both sat there, staring out the windshield, watching the water trickle down the glass. He made no move to put the truck in gear.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Bobby—”

“No, listen to me. I’m sorry it came to this. It shouldn’t have.”

“What’s done is done. Please, let’s just get out of here. I can’t stay in this place another minute.”

Bobby lingered for a moment, his eyes on you, even as you refused to look at him. You were afraid that if you did, you’d melt into a fit of tears. So, with a soft sigh, he put the truck in drive, and began the journey down the winding dirt road that led out of camp.

The trip was silent. You had nothing left to say, because you’d exhausted all your words these last few weeks. Countless hours of interrogation. Recounting that night over and over again. The conclusion was that a girl was missing, and it likely would not have happened if you’d been doing your job. That was a sense of guilt that you would have to live with for the rest of your life.

Bob pulled into the bus station fifteen minutes later, and you didn’t hesitate as you hurried to slide out of your seat, shoes colliding with wet asphalt. Your chest was tight, eyes blurring with tears as you rushed to grab your luggage.

“Would ya stop for a minute?!” Bobby exclaimed, reaching out to gently grab at your arm.

But you jerked away from him. “Please, don’t…don’t make this harder than it is,” you whispered.

He stared at you, brilliant blue eyes wide, filled with emotion. “So, what, you won’t even say goodbye?”

You feared that saying goodbye would break the dam, and you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself together. You’d fall into his arms, sobbing your heart out, and you would never get on that bus. The man before you sighed, shaking his head before he moved to haul your suitcase out of the truck, placing the plastic-covered bag on the sidewalk.

“That’s it then?” He spoke, his tone grim.

Squaring your shoulders, you nodded, forcing yourself to hold it together. “Goodbye, Robert.”

You turned to leave, and he watched you go, his heart falling to pieces within him. He was losing you, perhaps forever, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He wanted to go after you. Wanted to shake you and tell you to just listen. But you were so entrenched in the trauma of what had happened that he wasn’t sure you could listen to reason at all.

So he let you leave. He watched you climb onto that Greyhound, bound for home, all while he was left there with a wound in his heart, wishing that things could have ended differently. Wishing that your love for each other had been enough to keep you with him.

But it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough. And that was something he had to live with.

May 1986

Seeing you again was a lot for him. You were just as beautiful as he remembered. Even more so, now, if that was possible. He was also hit with a rush of emotions. He never thought he’d see you again. When he’d received the letter from Penny, inviting him back to camp, he had thought about you, and was sure you wouldn’t come back.

But here you were, standing before him, uncertain and anxious, and he found himself wanting nothing more than to pull you into his arms and comfort you. But he kept his distance, not wanting to invade your personal space. You weren’t his any longer. He could not touch you the way he used to.

You took a moment to pull yourself together, taking a deep breath, counting to ten, trying to ground yourself. Then, you fixed your posture, and nodded in Bob’s direction. “Alright. I think…I think I’m okay. We can, um, we can leave if you’re ready.”

“Okay. Let’s go then.” He opened the passenger door for you, and you climbed into that old truck once again, just as you had six years ago.

Everything had come full circle.

Bobby rounded the truck and settled into the driver’s seat, and soon, he’d started the engine, pulling away from the curb, turning onto the road that led up to camp. Your gut churned with anxiety. You were really doing this. There was no turning back now.

The radio played softly as Bob drove. Some old country song. Hank Williams, you thought. Its grainy, peaceful tune did well to calm your anxiety. Your hands had stopped trembling.

“It’s been a while,” the man beside you murmured. His accent seemed to have gotten thicker, a slight twang to it.

“I know,” you replied, staring down at your lap. Then, “God, I’m so sorry, Bobby. I shouldn’t have gone no contact like I did. I got the letters you sent. And I got every message you left on my answering machine. But I just…I couldn’t bring myself to respond.”

He shook his head. “No, I get it. I should’ve given you more space. I know everything that happened was a lot for you.”

“But that’s no excuse for me to just ignore you. It wasn’t right of me. I’m really sorry.”

“Apology accepted. It’s in the past, Kit. We can leave it there.”

It was that easy. A soothing sense of relief washed over you, warming you from head to toe. That exchange made you feel a little more at ease, and the conversation soon shifted.

“Did everyone come back this year?”

He nodded, humming lowly. “Most of ‘em, surprisingly. Bradley, Natasha, Mickey, Reuben, Javy. Half got here last night. The rest came earlier this mornin’.”

You hesitated, picking at a jagged nail on your right hand. “And…Jake?”

Bob was silent for a moment, his jaw tightening. “Yeah, him too.”

You recoiled in confusion. “But…why would he come back?”

“Penny didn’t say it in her letter, but they’re doing a dedication ceremony for Melissa. There’s a new garden area they installed in the main part of camp. It’s gonna be called Melissa Jo’s Garden. They had a plaque made and everything. Jake agreed to come for the ceremony. I dunno if he’s staying all summer though.”

“Oh.” It felt like all the oxygen had been sucked from your lungs. You had not left things on a good note with Jake. He harbored deep resentment toward you for neglecting to watch over your cabin. He blamed you for his sister’s disappearance.

“He seems to be handling everything alright. He might actually be okay with seeing you again.”

But you weren’t so sure. There was that nervousness again, roiling in your gut. Did you have the nerve to face him? And how would he react? You doubted he’d welcome you back with open arms.

You’d soon find out, because just up ahead, the Camp Mitchell sign could be seen. Large, deep green in color, with white lettering. So familiar, yet so foreign all at once.

You couldn’t believe you were back. What if this turned out to be the most foolish decision you’d ever made?

You didn’t have time to consider that, because Bobby was pulling into the common area in no time, and killing the engine. It was time to face the past you’d been running like hell to get away from.

As Bob got out to gather your luggage, you pushed the old, squeaky passenger door open and let your feet land in the soft sand.

The scent of pine and honeysuckle filled your nose. It sent an intense wave of nostalgia through you. So much had changed, and yet nothing had, all at the same time.

The layout was still the same. Clinic. Main office. Mess hall. Common area. But in the middle of the main entrance was a small garden. Stone paths weaved throughout. Spindly bushes, multicolored flowers, and other plants decorated the soil. Right in the middle of the garden was what appeared to be a large stone, covered with a tarp. You assumed the plaque for Melissa was hidden beneath the tarp.

And then, a voice caught your attention. You looked up to find Penny Mitchell approaching you. Blue cotton shorts, accessorized with a belt. A blue and white striped t-shirt tucked into them. A pair of hiking boots were on her feet. Practical, that one was. Always ready for an outdoor excursion at a moment’s notice.

You braced yourself, unsure of how she would behave toward you. She had rightfully held you responsible for Melissa’s disappearance, and you weren’t sure if she’d moved on from that. But, if she’d invited you back, she had to have at least found it in her heart to forgive you. You hoped so, anyway.

“Welcome!” She said, sweeping her arms out in greeting. “I’m glad you could make it!”

“Oh, um, thanks. Me…me too,” you said, unsure of the proper response.

Bobby sidled up beside you. You didn’t feel so alone with him there.

“Did Bob fill you in on everything on the drive up?”

“Kinda, yeah,” came your answer.

Penny nodded. “Once everyone is settled, Pete and I will take you on a tour. We’ve made a lot of changes these last few months.” Then she looked at Bob. “Would you show her to her cabin? We’ll put her in cabin five.”

“Sure thing,” he replied.

“We’ll have a little orientation meeting after dinner. There’s a whole itinerary we have to go over. I put a schedule in your cabin. Any questions?”

Yeah, lots. You stared at her for a moment. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you invite me back? After everything that happened?”

She regarded you silently, her expression neutral. Then, she said, “Because I believe in second chances. Or, rather, my husband does. He wanted to bring all of you back and start with a clean slate. Whether or not you’ve earned that second chance remains to be seen. But I hope you have.” Her words sent a painful ache through your chest. You didn’t blame her for being wary of you, but it still hurt.

As she excused herself, you were once again left alone with Bobby. “Y’alright?” He gently asked, cadence low and comforting.

You processed his words for a moment. “Yeah…yeah. I’m okay.”

“You need a minute?”

“No. Let’s just get my stuff to my cabin.”

With a single nod, he grabbed your suitcase and duffel bag, moving to walk up the hill. You followed closely behind, letting the rush of memories ebb through you. The cabins were small, build from dark wood, with green paint detailing the shutters and doors. They looked like they’d received fresh coats of paint, but otherwise, everything was still the same.

It didn’t take long to reach cabin five. Bob carried your things inside, and you slowly followed, your heart quickening as you stepped through the door. The scent of cedar and pine was familiar and painful all at once.

This wasn’t the cabin you’d been in when you were here last. You were in cabin two then, just one over from this one. Even so, it looked so eerily similar that for a moment, you were transported back to the summer of 1980.

Funnily enough, Bob had been the one to show you to your cabin for the first time that year, too.

“You’ve still got ‘em.”

Your eyes flickered to him, and your brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“The bracelets I made you.”

Oh. You looked down, eyeing your wrist, where the two braided jute bracelets remained, from when he’d made them for you that year. Dyed faintly with berry juice. Fraying at the edges, but still intact. “Um, yeah…I do. Guess I just could never bring myself to take them off.”

He stepped forward, reaching his hand out. You let him gingerly take your wrist into his palm. His fingers brushed against the braided rope, and his touch sent goosebumps across your skin. “After all these years,” he whispered, afraid that if he spoke any louder, his voice would fail him.

All at once, you were floored with an intense wave of emotion, so powerful it nearly drove you to your knees. It hit you out of nowhere, like a gut punch. “Bobby,” you whimpered.

Shocking blue flickered to meet your wide-eyed gaze, and his face crumpled, bottom lip quivering. “Kit.”

You weren’t sure who moved first, but you were in each other’s arms then, holding on tightly, as if the other would float away if you loosened your grip. The sound of soft sobs reached your ears, and you realized that they were coming from you.

“I never should have walked away from you. Never, ever!” You cried against his chest. “I’m sorry!”

“No, shhh,” he soothed, cradling your head against him. “Don’t do this to yourself. It’s okay, you’re forgiven.”

You pulled back to look at him, shaking your head. “It’s not okay!”

Two large hands came up to hold your face. “It hurt me, alright? I’ll admit that. Broke my heart in two. But I never held it against you, because…because I knew everything you’d been through. I know that summer was the worst time of your life. It made sense to me if you didn’t want to speak to me ever again. I would’ve just been a reminder of everything that happened.”

“But I did want to talk to you, Bobby. I did. I just couldn’t get past the goddamn trauma.”

He shook his head, his face kind. “I know. But we’re here now, together. That’s gotta count for something.” Maybe we’ve been given a second chance, he wanted to say, but he didn’t want to move too fast. He was well aware that your romance might never be rekindled. However, he was content to just remain friends with you if it meant that you would be in his life again.

You went quiet, letting your head fall against his chest again. You couldn’t believe you were here, standing in the middle of a cabin at the place where you had lost everything. It felt so surreal. It was as if a million years had passed since you saw him here last, and yet, it also felt like no time had passed at all.

There was so much that needed to be discussed. But there was no hurry. For now, you were just relieved to know that you had not burned a bridge with your first great love. If nothing else went right for you this summer, he was the one good thing that would come out of it.

“I’m glad…I’m glad it was you who picked me up at the station,” you admitted.

Bobby smiled softly. “So am I.” He searched your face, as if memorizing it. “I really thought I wouldn’t ever see you again.”

You hummed in agreement. “Me too. But I guess fate wanted us to meet again.”

“She’s a tricky one, that Fate.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Finally, he parted from you, though the absence of his body made yours feel cold. He didn’t want to overstep. “Well…I guess I’ll let you get settled.” He moved toward the door, but your voice gave him pause.

“Actually, wait for me. I don’t want to face everyone alone. I’d prefer it if we walked together.” Bobby might be the only person in this damn place to accept you again. You wanted to cling to that, and the security it provided.

He gave a single nod. “Alright. You want any help getting settled, then?”

Together, you set about getting everything situated. Bob went around and checked the cabin for spiders, because he knew you weren’t a fan of the little (and sometimes big) guys. He found one, which he very gently coaxed into his hand (murmuring “c’mon, little buddy” as he did) and released it outside.

Once you had your stuff organized, and did a quick clean sweep of the cabin, you were ready to join everyone else. There was a paper posted on the wall just beside the door, detailing the itinerary for counselors and other camp staff. In about fifteen minutes, dinner would be served in the mess hall.

Directly following that, there would be an orientation meeting in the meeting hall, a place where staff meetings usually took place. Assemblies with the campers were also held there. It ws in that hall that you would be forced to face people from your past. Namely, you’d have to face Jake again.

The thought made your stomach churn, and your hands tremble. But then, Bob’s gentle presence brought you back to the presence, and your racing heart calmed down a little.

He offered you a kind smile. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” you said with a nod.

Together, you walked out of that cabin and into the camp grounds, falling into silence as your steps synced up. There were so many things Bobby wanted to say, but he didn’t want to inundate you with questions and confessions, so he left it. He knew you had to be terribly overwhelmed as it was. He didn’t want to be the cause of more stress.

So, silence it was, all the way until you got to the mess hall. He stopped to open the door for you, and you hesitated.

“It’s okay,” he assured you. “I’ll be right here with you the whole time.”

You liked the sound of that.

So, with a deep breath and squared shoulders, you stepped through that door, entering the room. Dark wood stretched out before you. The mess hall was a similar design to the cabins, just much bigger. High ceilings with unfinished wooden beams. Wooden floors and walls. Dark green paint detailing. Windows on each wall to let in natural light. A large stone fireplace in the middle of the room.

It was very cozy, but as your gaze shifted to the table of faces to your left, you felt a chill run over you. Here goes nothing.

You appraoched the table, taking in each person seated there. At the head of the table was Pete Mitchell, Penny’s husband. He lifted his head and offered a smile, but you couldn’t quite place the look in his eyes. Beside him, Penny glanced up at you.

Then, to her right, you saw Natasha Trace. Another person you had once had a connection with. She was good friends with Bobby before you met him. The two of them had gone to school, and eventually college, together. Beside her was a woman you’d never seen before, but judging by the way Natasha held her hand, you inferred that they were in a relationship. It was no surprise to you. Nat had always made it clear that she only had eyes for women.

Then, on the other side of the woman was Mickey Garcia, another one of Bob’s good friends. His best friend, in fact. Mickey offered you a smile, and you took that as acceptance of you. He always had been rooting for you, all those summers ago.

Beside Mickey was Javy Machado. You couldn’t get a read on him. His face bore a neutral expression as he regarded you. Back then, he’d been best friends with Jake, and had therefore been completely on his side. You assumed the sentiment was still the same.

Then, of course, there was Bradley Bradshaw. He was Pete and Penny’s surrogate son, in a way. After Bradley’s mother died when he was a teenager, Pete had brought him on to learn how to run the camp. One day, he would take charge of the place, after the husband and wife duo retired.

All of them were seated around that table, but you noticed that one was missing. You had no idea where Jake was. Maybe he wasn’t joining everyone for dinner. Maybe he’d left. A part of you hoped so.

“Wanna sit here?” Bobby asked, motioning to two seats next to Bradley.

You nodded, and he pulled out your chair for you. Once you were seated, he took his own seat beside you, between Bradley and you. The other man leaned over the table, and you got a look at his face for the first time in six years. He’d lost his baby face, and was now sporting a defined jaw. A neatly kept mustache shadowed his upper lip. You thought it suited him. “Good to see you again,” he said.

Bradley’s statement seemed to break the ice, and a few murmurs of greeting echoed around the table. Even still, an air of awkwardness hovered over the group. You wanted to crawl out of your own skin. But you were here now, and there was no turning back.

The food was set up around the table like a regular family dinner. Simple foods. Sandwiches. Veggies and dip. Chips. You grabbed a sandwich, but you found your stomach in knots, and the thought of eating anything nauseated you.

“Well, Penny, you did it. Got us all to come back. Good on you,” Natasha spoke up.

Penny shrugged. “Pete and I have been talking about it for a while. I know the way things ended back in ‘80 was…bad, to say the least. But we really feel that this place has potential, and we could breathe new life into it.”

“What do the Seresins think about that?” Javy asked, his brow raised.

“We think it’s an okay idea,” a voice spoke up from across the room.

The group looked up all at once to see the man stepping through the door. You tensed, taking in a breath. Your heart rate picked up, thudding against your chest as the chill of anxiety crawled along your spine.

“Really?” Natasha piped up.

Jake nodded as he approached the group. “Yeah. Seeing as how Penny wants to dedicate this place to Missy. We all remember how much she loved it here. I firmly believe she’d want it to keep going.”

Penny smiled. “I’m glad we’re on the same page, Jake.”

He stopped at the empty end of the table, hands coming up to rest upon the back of the chair there. “But I do have one question.”

“What’s that?” The woman asked.

Jake smiled, but you could tell is wasn’t a real smile. In fact, when you looked at his eyes, the pale green was filled with snake’s venom. “What the fuck is she doing here?” He jabbed his finger in your direction, and you froze, your eyes growing wide.

That was more like the reaction you’d been expecting.

Penny faltered, her smile fading. Beside you, you felt Bob stiffen. But you didn’t dare pull your eyes away from Jake’s accusatory glare.

“I-I just thought that–”

“I don’t care. Look, Penny; I really appreciate you putting this all together, but in what world did you think it was okay to invite the person who had a hand in my sister’s disappearance?”

“She isn’t the one who wanted to invite her. I am.” Pete stood from his seat, his eyes narrow. “I thought that she deserved a second chance. And I wanted you to find it in yourself to allow her that chance.”

“Oh, really? What, is she gonna bring my sister back? Hm?” Jake’s gaze was so cold. You wished the ground would swallow you up. How on earth could you have thought this was a good idea?

“No, but–”

“If she stays, I’m refusing the dedication. She’s the reason I lost Missy. She doesn’t get to just stand there and pretend she’s sorry, while my parents and I are still grieving.”

Your eyes had blurred with tears, and your chest was tight. You should never have come.

But then, “leave ‘er alone, Jake.” Bobby stood up, facing the other man.

“Oh, you coming to her rescue is rich, Baby on Board. Wasn’t it your dick she was sucking when my kid sister went missing?”

The room went dead silent.

Bob took a breath. Then two. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that. She’s here, whether you like it or not. And she deserves another chance, just as much as anybody.”

“No, you know what? You’re right. This was a mistake. I should never have come,” you spoke up, rising from your chair.

But Bobby grabbed your arm. “No. Don’t let him drive you away.” His eyes were pleading.

You pulled away from his grasp, sadly shaking your head.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. Then you turned to Jake. “I wish I could bring your sister back. But I can’t. You need to know that I cared about her. And I should have been more thorough when I did bed check that night. I regret it every day, and I’ve lived with that guilt for the last six years. But my guilt is nothing compared to the loss you and your parents have had to endure. And for that, I’m so fucking sorry. I’ll leave, if that’s what you’d prefer. I never should have come in the first place.”

With that, you ducked your head, pushing your chair out of the way as you scrambled toward the exit. You could hear Bob calling your name, but you ignored him, your legs carrying you quickly toward the door. Your vision had tunneled, and your chest was heavy. You had to get out of that building. You felt like you were suffocating. Like someone had pulled a plastic bag over your face.

You threw your arms out in front of you and shoved the door open, letting out a great heaving sob as you stumbled down the front steps. You made it a few feet from the stairs before you leaned forward, hands braced on your knees as you fell apart.

“Oh, God!” You cried. You heard footsteps quickly approaching. It made you whirl around. “Just leave me the fuck alone!” Came your wail.

“No! I don’t care what he says, you deserve to be here!”

It was Bob, you realized.

“What do you want me to do, then?! He doesn’t want me here, Bob! And I never should’ve come. So just…just pull the truck around and I’ll get my luggage and get the fuck out of here.”

“No.”

“Either you take me back to the station, or I’ll get someone else to do it!”

“No other buses are running until tomorrow morning, so you can’t leave anyway! You’re stuck here for the night.”

“Goddammit!” You yelled. “I just want to leave!”

He grabbed you by the shoulders. “You’re not listening to me! I can’t handle watching you walk away from me again. I lost you once, and I’ll be damned if I let Jake Seresin be the reason I lose you again!”

And then, silence.

“Oh.”

He released your shoulders suddenly, his face stricken. “I-I’m sorry. I’m coming on way too strong. This is probably super overwhelming for you and I’m just making it worse.”

“No. No, you…you aren’t.” A pause. And then, “I don’t want to walk away from you again, either.”

“If you want to leave, then I’ll take you to the station tomorrow morning. But I just want you to try and stay. I know Jake doesn’t want you here, but I’m sure Pete can convince him to at least give you a chance.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

However, back inside the mess hall, a discussion was happening. “I’m sorry, Jake. I know we should have told you we invited her back. I take full responsibility for that oversight. But your parents…they knew she was coming. We checked with them beforehand. Your mom is of the belief that we should give her another chance.”

“What?” Jake asked, incredulous.

“Yeah. So, I know it’s hard for you, but if your mom is willing to forgive, then I’m going to respect that, and give this girl a chance. You know she’s lived with this guilt for so long. I think that’s punishment enough.”

The blonde sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t like it. If it was up to me, she’d be on the next Greyhound outta here. But if my mom wants her here…” He looked out the window, eyeing you and Bob as you spoke to each other. “It boggles my damn mind, but I’ll respect my mom’s wishes. That doesn’t mean I forgive her, though. I don’t think I ever will. But you go ahead and keep her on staff. Something tells me it ain’t gonna end well, but what do I know?”

And with that, Jake stalked off in a huff.

He swung the screen door open, and your head shot up, your eyes widening as you saw him coming down the steps. Bobby took a protective step toward you.

“You can stay,” Jake said as he walked past. “But only because my mom is the one who wanted you here.” Then he leaned in close. Well, as close as Bob would allow him to get. “But just know this. If you fuck up in any way, shape, or form, I’ll ship you back home myself. We clear?”

“Y-yes,” you responded with a curt nod.

“Good.”

And with that, Jake Seresin walked away.

You let out an unsteady breath, your shoulders slumping. Bobby looked at you, his gaze questioning. “What are you gonna do?”

You shook your head. “I…I don’t…”

“You don’t need to decide now. Just sleep on it. Make your decision with a fresh mind, alright?”

“Yeah,” came your whispered reply. “Yeah, that’s–that’s what I’ll do.”

He took his baseball cap off, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. I know this is a lot for you. Do ya wanna just turn in early? I’m sure they’d understand if you skipped orientation.”

You considered his words, and finally, you shook your head. “No. I’ll, uh, I’ll try to go, and see how I do. But I think I’m going to just go and lay down for a while until then.”

“Want me to walk you back?”

“I’d like that.”

With a soft smile and a nod, Bobby began to guide you back toward the cabins. Your hands were shaking, and your head was spinning. It felt like someone had shoved their hands into your chest and taken hold of your lungs, squeezing them with all their might.

It was a painfully uncomfortable feeling, and you hoped that it would pass soon. But as long as you were here, in this place that held so many memories, it would probably remain a permanent fixture in your body. The only thing that soothed it was Bobby’s presence.

Even after all these years, and after the sour note you’d left him on, being near him still felt so comforting and peaceful. It was an odd, but welcome, sensation. You hadn’t expected it to be this way. When you thought of seeing him again, you imagined it would be painfully awkward, or that maybe he would refuse to speak to you.

But this was Robert Floyd you were talking about. He didn’t hold grudges. And if he did, then he’d been deeply hurt beyond repair. It was a relief to know that things were not beyond mending between you. At the moment, you were too overwhelmed and emotional to even consider what it might mean for you in the future. You were just grateful that he was near you again.

So much had changed. When you’d left him, he’d been more gangly. Twenty-two years old. Large wireframes perched atop his nose. All round cheeks and softer features. Now, he seemed a little taller. Or maybe, his slight bulk made him appear so. Gone were those gangly limbs, replaced with muscle that had been defined by physical labor.

His hands, though. His hands had stayed the same. They’d always been big, but he’d grown into them. They suited him now. Strong and steady. Farmer’s hands.

“You want me to come get you when it’s time for orientation?” The low cadence of his voice jarred you from your daydream.

“If you would? I forgot to pack my battery alarm clock, so have no way of keeping time.”

He nodded. “Sure. I can get ya one of those clocks. I actually have two, you can have one of mine.”

“You sure?”

“Yep, I don’t need two anyway. I’ll bring it to you later tonight.”

You shot him a grateful smile. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

Together, you stopped just outside your cabin, lingering at the foot of the stairs. Bob’s face was gentle, his eyes kind. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. I know it’s a for you lot to be back here. And Jake didn’t help anythin’ by reacting the way he did. But if no one else is happy to see you, I want you to know that I am. I’ll respect whatever decision you make, but I really do hope you’ll stay.”

You considered his words, mulling them over in your mind. He didn’t expect you to decide at that very moment, and you knew your brain was too overworked to make that decision then as it was. So, the best you could do was nod your head. “I’ll see you in a bit, Bobby.”

He hummed, mouth quirking into a smile. “See you in a bit, Kit.”

You watched him walk away, his footsteps sure, his stance confident. He had a swagger to him that he didn’t have six years ago. It suited him well.

With a soft sigh, you finally turned and made your way into the cabin. As soon as the screen slammed behind you, you surged forward, collapsing into your bed, which was right near the door. Immediately, you buried your face in the pillow, and everything you’d been keeping inside came spilling out of you in bitter waves.

What had you gotten yourself into?

to be continued...

taglist (tagging those who showed interest; if you want to be added let me know)

@withahappyrefrain @rhettabbotts @ryebecca @up-thereinthesky @oldfangirl30 @attapullman @sebsxphia @delopsia @damrlova @fairyheart @hangmanapologist @laracrofted @callsignspark @bobfloydsbabe @milesmillergf @bradshawsbitch @bradshawsbaby @floydsmuse @senawashere @creatchie8

#bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd smut #bob floyd angst #story: six summers

233 notes · View notes

antiyourwokehomophobia2 · 5 months

Text

Man, this pisses me off so bad. If you're a woman who relates more to males than other women, it's because you've decided to focus more on how you're different from other women rather than how you're like them. You will literally never have more in common with males, and males do not feel the same way about you. These cute little posts that you write about how you love males more than your fellow women? They do not write the same thing about you. They hate and mock you constantly. Anyone remember "Cis women need to shut up"

"As a cis woman, I agree"

"You need to shut up, specifically"

Yea, that's how they feel about you and your solidarity.

The difference between lesbians and trans women in female spaces is the fact that lesbians do not have high rates of violence. There is no group of women that outclass men in terms of violent tendencies. Trans women retain the rates of male violence that regular men do. I'm not saying you have to treat trans women like they're all violent beasts, but if you can't see why female people would be uncomfortable with male people in their spaces, you're either naive or genuinely unsympathetic towards the very real fear that women have of being subjected to male violence. You can't say trans women and lesbians are similar because, unlike males, there is no statistical evidence that lesbians are highly likely to take advantage of a woman. If it turned out that 98% of rapes were committed by lesbians, I would 1000% understand why straight women don't fucking want to be around me. Have some fucking empathy, holy fucking shit. Even if you are completely on board with trans women being in female spaces, at LEAST acknowledge that it makes sense for women to be concerned about who is allowed in their spaces. It's crazy how I could tell someone I have a fear of dogs because one bit me when I was a kid, and they'd put their sweet pooch up, but God forbid a woman be cautious around a demographic who commit 90% of all violent crime. Oh no. That woman is suddenly a terf bitch.

I have nothing in common with trans women. I don't care how much pain they have experienced. We are not the same. When I was twelve, I cried and I cried as I put my palms together to pray to a God I hoped would be able to take away my homosexuality. I didn't even grow up in a particularly homophobic family. Both of my parents were accepting of me, but I still sat in the dark of my room, tears streaming down my face, as I prayed to have my sexuality changed.

Two years later, one of my friends made a joke about me dressing to impress my crush. She said my crushes name---a feminine name. A girl sitting in earshot heard her, turned to me, and asked me with disgust if I was gay. I said no without even thinking about it. It absolutely did not help that we were in a locker room with other girls. I was aware of my sexuality by that point, but I was 14 and unable to hold my own against a girl looking at me like THAT. For a few weeks after that, that girl made comments about how she was "watching me".

I know pain, I know discomfort, I know what it's like to feel predatory. Seeing feminine women, especially if they're white, makes me feel like an alien. I look at them and think "how are we so different? I see none of myself in you."

Sometimes I'm right. Sometimes we're not similar at all. But guess what? That doesn't mean I'm similar to a straight male. Fucking hell, sometimes I'm not similar to other lesbians. That's completely normal. I think OP needs to read better work by cishet women. If you think that there is not a single piece of cishet female writing that can move you more than something written by a male, you're not looking in the right places at all. I don't understand why some LB women seem to think that the very act of someone being a straight woman makes them incapable of relatability. Of course it makes sense for you to be cautious. Lesbians deal with a lot of alienation and predatory feelings, but if the very ACT of a woman being cis and straight makes you feel like she has absolutely nothing in common with you...? The issue lies with you. YOU are the one othering THEM. Not the other way around. You're the one who has decided that a few cis straight women othering you means that they ALL will so you'd better beat them to the punch. You're the one who has decided that your relationship to womanhood is so astronomically different from straight women that nothing they say speaks to you. That's INSANE. Do you realize how much you have to alienate yourself from womanhood to feel more relatability with a male person than a female one? Idk how to tell you this, but it is highly probable that the most cis, most het woman you have ever met has had a period. It's highly likely she's been harassed by a man. It's highly likely she's been made to feel inferior by way of being born female. No, they can't relate to the experience of being a lesbian who is made to feel predatory for no reason, but to say that nothing a cis het woman says/experiences can move you at all? Nothing they say can make you feel like your experience with womanhood and hers are similar? Do you realize how you sound? "Trans women have been harassed by men and made to feel inferior, too!!" Okay! So you should be able to relate to cis women in the way you do trans women, right?

I told my discord server that I was nervous about my future roommates. I showed them photos and someone said "all this tells me is that they're feminine and white" and I literally think about that all of the time. I was projecting. I was so scared that these white, feminine, probably straight women were going to judge me for being a black lesbian that I didn't even realize that I was the one violently judging them based off of nothing but their skin color and their femininity. I knew nothing about them. I STILL know nothing about them. I've barely spoken to them. But already I had labeled them as unrelatable judgemental women because of how they looked. Hold on. Wasn't I the one afraid of them judging ME? How could I be so afraid of them judging me for being a black lesbian when I was the one judging them already? What sense does that make?

You guys are so busy writing off cis straight women as unrelatable bigots that you've failed to see that you're the one who is extremely prejudiced against them. And I absolutely fucking know someone is gonna read this and say "well, you can't say that all trans women have male violence patterns and dahdahdahdah" and it's like. But YOU can say that cis straight women are so unbelievably different from lesbian women that you'd rather say you're more similar to a straight up fucking male???

I'm not saying it's not a little jarring to see women who are so different from me. I'm not saying I haven't been burned before and there's no reason for me (or other lesbians) to be cautious. But I will literally ALWAYS have more in common with cishet women than I ever will a man pretending to be a woman.

One time I had a professor. She was on the older side (I'd say 40's) and white. Not the type of person I'd think I'd click well with. She was straight and married with children. One day we talked after class, and the only thing that ended our conversation was the fact she had an event she had to go to. We would've talked longer if not for that. She emailed me a little while later to tell me that she enjoyed our chat. After that, she actually hugged me on two occasions. You wouldn't think we'd have common ground. An older, straight, married white mother and a young black lesbian. Both of us are "cis" but I can tell you I relate to her much better than I ever could someone born male.

I once had a personal trainer who was a feminine woman. She had acrylic nails and everything. One time she said that she couldn't hug her male friends anymore because she had a boyfriend (he wasn't the one enforcing that rule. That was something she personally felt). Also not someone I thought I'd click well with. But we did. One time we had a really productive discussion that was actually derived from the conversation with my professor. I felt very close to her in that moment. Our conversation came to a close because she had another client, but I still think about that convo.

There have been so many fucking times where I thought "this woman is not like me. Look at her." But what I realized was that I was the judgmental one. I was the one deciding we were different, not her. I was the one writing her off. I was the one convinced we had nothing in common.

I am BEGGING you not to alienate your fellow women. There are no inherent traits that make you unable to relate to other women. No amount of whiteness or cisness or straightness can make a woman completely unreachable. I am NOT talking about political parties or views so don't fucking try me with that shit. Obviously that puts a wedge between people, but someone simply being born cis and het does not make them alien from you. For God's sake, look at the fucking MeToo movement. Women from all fucking backgrounds who share an experience that an unfortunate amount of women go through. Women from all different races, sexualities, etc. who came together to talk about how they've been subjected to sexual violence. Ellen degeneres was one of them. How does that fit into your "lesbians and cishet women cannot relate to each other" spiel?

OP's post has 130k notes and it makes me fucking sick. Holy crap y'all, we need more solidarity than this. Other women are not your enemy. I'm begging you to reconsider your approach to women who are different than you. You are missing out on people who can love and support you in a way that literally no male can. You are depriving yourself. Just because a few cishet women in the past alienated you, does not mean that you have to continue their legacy. Let it go. Everyone on earth can see you embracing your hatred of women, and you wonder why your fellow women never hug you? They fucking can't! Put your hatred down and make space for the love that comes with realizing that you absolutely are like other girls!

#You guys think you're so progressive but you're just in a woke version of not like other girls #Stop comparing lesbians to literal males #Jesus fucking Christ #I actually hate you guys so fucking much #I'm never telling anyone I'm gay every again bro #I hate all of you #I should've prayed to be asexual man #Maybe god would've taken me more seriously

190 notes · View notes

huramuna · 7 months

Text

a maid's folly - epilogue. end.

dark aemond x maid ofc

work is 18+, minors do not interact, lest ye be smited.

previous | next

word count: 2k

follow & turn on notifs at @huramuna-fics for my fic postings!

a new maid from the Vale arrives at the Red Keep during a tumultuous time and becomes ensnared in the One-Eyed prince's web.

thank you for sticking with me while i struggled to get through the epilogue. i hope it tickles the itch that chapter 8 left with you and ties up everything with a nice bow. thank you for your patience, as always.

warnings: smut, power imbalance, religious guilt, dark Aemond, canon typical misogyny, canon typical violence, Aemond being a touch starved weirdo, possessiveness, jealousy, this is going to be ANGSTY

am i dreaming of sunflowers - post malone & metro boomin, a$ap rocky, roisee

“Dracarys, Robyn.”

“Dwa… caways.”

“No, no. Dracarys!”

“Dwacawuys!”

“... good enough for now, little one,” Aemond hummed, picking up the toddler with his good arm and holding him to his hip. “Now, how do we greet mother?”

“Muña,” Robyn babbled, his chubby arms outstretched as he and Aemond approached Rosemary, who had an apron tied taut around her rounded belly. Her hands were dirtied with flour, which she pat down the front of her dress.

“Very good, little bird!” Rosemary exclaimed, darting over to her two boys, a gentle hand laid on Aemond’s arm, to which he leaned in slightly.

“What’s for dinner, then, muña?” Aemond purred, pressing his lips to Rosemary’s neck, eliciting a giggle from her.

“Venison stew and parsnip mash,” she responded. “‘Tis no sea bass, but it will do, shouldn’t it, husband?”

“I suppose it will.” he responded swiftly, placing Robyn down onto the floor as they walked into the small cottage. He stretched his arm and shoulder before perusing the kitchen table. “More letters?” he asked, thumb flitting over parchment that was strewn across the table.

“... yes. She is begging for your return.” Rosemary avoided his gaze, stirring the mash that was still cooking on the stovetop.

“I don’t understand why– I am useless to them like this.” he pulled out a chair with one arm, his only arm– the other one was amputated at the elbow, long healed and scarred over. His eye scar was speckled now with burns, the sapphire gone from his socket. He didn’t care to wear an eyepatch these days, his hair shorn short. He looked ghastly to everyone in the village besides his wife and son. He looked like his father now, how his face was sunken and the eye socket unadorned– just… there, with only one arm. When going to town, he wrapped a silken sash over the sullied side of his face, just so he wouldn’t scare the children. It was the least he could do.

“The war has been over for six moons, she says– they… they pray for you to come back to King’s Landing, Aemond.” she pointed out, taking the pot off from the heat.

“I have no dragon, I can’t fight– what use am I?”

“You don’t have to have a use, husband– you merely need to be alive. Your mother and brother think you dead still.”

“I’m better off to them dead–”

“Don’t,” Rosemary snapped, hands on her hips. “Do not ever say that to me, or around Robyn either. I won’t have talk of that in this house.”

Aemond bit his lip and tongue, eye lazing over the letter that was pursed between thumb and forefinger.

Dearest Marigold,

I cannot wait to meet my nephew, he sounds like the most wondrous little boy. But we are still not able to leave the nest. The folk are in uprise at the lack of food and resources.

Mother mourns him. Brother has erected a statue in his honor.

You must convince him. We need him here.

Please.

If you are unable to and do not return before the turn of Spring, I shall saddle up and get you all myself.

Best,

Lady Orbweaver

His brow furrowed as he read it over and over again until his lone eye strained and watered from not blinking. “You should burn these.”

“Aemond.”

“I don’t want to speak of it any longer.”

–

Spring had turned, the coldness of the nights bleeding into warm days as the flowered fields of the Riverlands finally began to recover from the war that had ended two years ago now. It had been two springs since Helaena promised to come visit– but she had not yet.

“Vaelaena, please don’t run so far ahead!” Rosemary called as she tottered down the wooded path towards the lake. Aemond was at her side, arm around her to steady the two of them as they walked. She was once again swollen with child, hoping for an early summer delivery date.

Robyn was now five years old, helping his sister along the path. Vaelaena, now two, was the spitting image of her mother with wide brown eyes and wonderment at everything.

“Okay mumma!” Vaelaena squeaked as she continued to do the opposite of what her mother asked.

“Vae, hold my hand!” Robyn smushed his fist into his sister’s, making her slow down.

They reached the pebbled beach of the God’s Eye lake and Rosemary sat down on a flat rock. Aemond had fishing poles strapped to his back, fiddling with getting them off with only one hand.

“Robyn, come help your father.” Aemond asked, much to his own chagrin. He hated to ask for help– especially from a five year old, but this was his life now.

Robyn took the fishing poles from Aemond and baited the hook– they had mulled around in the dirt a few hours earlier in the garden for worms. Mostly Robyn and Vaelaena, but Aemond kicked the dirt around, too.

“Now, cast it like I taught you, boy,” he sat down on the shore, knees bundled up in front of him as he watched his son cast the fishing line out into the lake. He blinked, remembering all too well when he had been bleeding out, dying on this very spot– his arm shredded to nothing but muscle and sinew, and his dragon drowning, sinking to the bottom of the lake. He had watched when they fished Vhagar’s corpse out of the lake, now nothing but a host of bones. They were looking for his body, he knew– they found Dark Sister and Caraxes, too. But they did not find Daemon’s body, nor did they find his. When he looked up at the sky above the God’s Eye, he was there again, swirling in a fight to the death against his uncle– it was suicide, it was… stupid. The despair he’d felt seeing them haul up Vhagar’s remains was immense. He was the cause of her death, a dragon who’d survived from the Conquest and beyond. Only to be brought down by an ugly bloodwyrm.

But it had won the war, in short. Rhaenyra had surrendered after she heard of her husband’s untimely death and fled to Essos with her remaining children. Aegon and Helaena remained in the Keep and Jaehaerys was named heir. It seemed things were finally as they should be– and to them, Aemond was dead. At least, to everyone but his wife, children and sister. Helaena knew the entire time that Rosemary was alive and did not say a thing, and mayhaps Aemond was still cross about that. He had been furious at Rosemary for weeks after she saved his life. He was a terrible patient, in truth. All the while being angry at Helaena and Rosemary, he couldn’t be mad at Robyn, who aided in his recovery, the best a toddler could, of course. He didn’t even have to ask if he was his son, the boy was a spitting image of himself, of the portraits that had been done of him as a child, still hung in his mother’s rooms, he guessed.

Rosemary and Aemond had wed shortly after he regained most mobility, about six months after he arrived in her cottage. They had paid a septon in the town in fifteen copper stars to wed them in the Sept– the Sept of the small village just being a one-room hut with a dirt floor.

In town, they were known as Marigold Rivers and Torrhen Waters. They were nameless, just two bastards in love– and Aemond wished for it to stay that way. Despite his love being alive, his son– he couldn’t help but feel this was his punishment. To lurk in the shadows as a nameless bastard cripple while his mother and brother thought him dead. It was his punishment for starting the war, for being a Kinslayer–

“Papa, look!” Robyn squealed, hauling up a small trout from the lake. “Papa!”

“Good job, son,” Aemond hummed. “Bring it here, let’s see.” he gestured with his one hand as his son wrestled the tiny trout with two hands to bring it over. Despite it all, despite his despair he felt at his current state of being, he still wanted to be a good father. Better than his father was, at least. He had to be. He made every effort to be there, to teach, to nurture, to do what his own father never did. His son would never know that his father was a prince and he wouldn’t know he had the blood of the dragon in his veins– but he would be loved.

Rosemary had Vaelaena on her lap, combing her fingers through her unruly blonde curls, wrestling them into a braid, humming a tune. Her tune was muted, suddenly, as the sound of wing flaps echoed through the air.

Aemond’s chest bubbled in panic and elation, half expecting to see Vhagar from over the horizon. ‘Twas not Vhagar– of course.

It was a giant blue dragon– Dreamfyre. Atop her was Queen Helaena. She landed gracefully upon the pebbled beach. Robyn was frozen in fear or amazement, Aemond could not tell– Vaelaena had her face buried in her mother’s bosom, sniffling.

Aemond rose to his feet, legs shaky like a newborn fawn’s. His sister was here, as she had promised– two years late, perhaps but…

“Aemond!” Helaena called, trotting across the beach in her blue and black riding leathers. She looked radiant, hair windswept from the ride. Her face was plastered in the biggest, dumbest smile ever.

“Hel…” Aemond echoed softly, trudging across the rocky terrain and meeting Helaena in the middle, wrapping his one arm around her. “Hel…”

“I’ve missed you so– my dear brother,” she sniffled. “We’ve all missed you terribly.”

“... how is mother?”

“As well as she can be, considering the circumstances…”

“Aegon? The twins? Maelor?”

“All very good.”

“... Helaena?”

“Yes, brother?”

“Why are you here?”

“To ask you to come back. And I will not take no for an answer.”

Aemond opened his mouth to speak, but saw a flash of white go past him as Robyn walked towards Dreamfyre. “Robyn, don’t!”

Dreamfyre trilled a soft noise at the tiny human coming towards her, who stopped about three feet in front of her snout. Robyn reached out his hand, offering the fish he had just caught. The dragon looked at the little boy, letting out a huge sniff (which almost knocked over the poor boy) and opened her maw, slurping up the fish in a fell swoop. Robyn giggled and was thrilled, despite his hand now dripping in dragon slobber. He trotted back to his father, clinging to his pant leg. “Who’s this, papa?”

“This is… your aunt. Helaena. She is my sister, just like Vaelaena is your sister.”

“Vaelaena?” Helaena asked softly, brow perked.

“... Mayhaps named after you and Vhagar.”

Rosemary approached with the aforementioned toddler on her hip, already teary eyed from seeing Helaena. “Vae, this is your aunty Helaena– this is Lady Orbweaver I talked about.”

“Lady… Owbweaber…” Vaelaena repeated, astonished. “Like in… my stories?”

“The very same!” Helaena exclaimed. “I see that you haven’t given up your talent as a storyteller, Rosemary?”

“Rosemary? … I thought mumma’s name was Marigold.”

–

Fifteen years after the war between brother and sister had ended, the infamous feud dubbed by historians as the ‘Dance of the Dragons’, the realm was peaceful and quaint, still ruled by King Aegon II Targaryen, and his wife, Queen Helaena Targaryen.

By his royal decree, Aegon had bestowed the ancestral island of Dragonstone upon his brother Aemond Targaryen, who had returned five years after the war, thought to be dead after the battle over God’s Eye.

Dragonstone is resided by the prince, Aemond Targaryen, his wife, Rosemary Targaryen, and their five children. Robyn Targaryen, Vaelaena Targaryen, Baelon Targaryen, Daehaerys Targaryen, and Mheya Targaryen, the last of whom was supposedly named for Rosemary’s late mother, who had ancestral roots in the Mountain clans of the Eyrie.

The lamb survived the dragon– the lamb, in fact, saved the dragon.

#aemond fic #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x fem!reader #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond fandom #my writing #the maid's folly #aemond x servant

191 notes · View notes

asumofwords · 1 year

Text

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Blood, gore, major character deaths.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Oh my god.... Everything is happening ARGH! I'm actually going to try and post updates daily now for this, bar Sunday for the next Sublet chapter. I am just so excited to finish this series! Hahaha, anyway, I've loved seeing all your reactions and theories!! <3

Chapter 102: Envoys to Dragonstone

When you had returned to your chambers, it was a blur of movements and thoughts, but one in particular seemed to absorb all the rest. Its dark tendrils wrapped around the others, pulling them into the dark with it, thus making its size almost immeasurable until all other thoughts were devoured by it, gone from the light, and all that was left was it.

War was coming.

With shaky hands you grasped a piece of parchment and sat at the table. With the ink pot and quill, you rolled the parchment flat beneath your palm and began to write.

You wrote as though your life depended on it.

Because it did.

And with each swift flick of your script, a blaring word in particular seemed to have broken loose from the feeling of hopelessness. A word which had been whispered and cried. Spoken and sneered. A word that had fuelled your hope, and created your despair. A word that you knew, now more than ever, was a need to act.

Dracarys.

And so you wrote until the page was full, and tears leaked from your eyes at knowing what was to come next.

Loss.

‘Mother and Father,

To write to you under the present circumstances does little to steady my beating heart, but it is something that I know will ensure that it keeps doing just that. Beating.

Aegon is dead. Slain at the hands of Aemond.

And now he is King. And I, Queen.

The treaty is lost, and at the risk of another war coming to take us all, I must beg you, bend the knee.

Bend the knee to Aemond.

If you swear him as King, he has said that he will allow you to live on Dragonstone and carry out your days there safely and happily.

If you do not bend the knee, war will break, and I will not survive it.

You will not survive it.

None of us will.

My only consolation is that if you do, we shall all live, and that I will be able to see you again soon.

I suspect I am with child, Aemond’s child. And if the promise of your own flesh and blood upon the throne does not satiate your need to rule, then know I hold no grievances towards you. It is your birthright, just as it is mine.

If you do not bend the knee, you must send star fruit to the Keep so that I know of your decision, and may feel its sweet nectar upon my tongue once more before war breaks out. It is the only way I will survive this all, and it is the only way that I will know that you do not hate me for asking you of this.

It was not my wish to depose my mother of the throne, nor my father, or my dearest brother Jacaerys. I beg for your forgiveness. I shall go to the Godswood and pray that you will forgive such an offence, and pray that the Gods will forgive my sins too.

Until then, I wait to hear of your acquiesce to Aemond and I's rule, or the delivery of star fruit to the keep in barrels full.

Yours forever,

Queen Y/n.’

Tears slipped past your eyes, and you had not even heard Aemond enter the chambers, nor sense him standing behind you as he read your letter. It was only until he touched a lock of your hair at the back of your head did you know that he was there.

“Are you ready?” He asked softly, cool patience in his tone.

You turned your head to look up at him.

Were you ready?

Would you ever be ready for what was to come?

If your parents bent the knee, that meant you would rule as Queen, like you had always wanted, and at the side of Aemond.

But if they didn’t?

No.

They would come.

Just as you asked.

More tears fell, and Aemond swiped them away gently with his thumb, “Issa iā qopsa geralbar bona ilagon gō īlva. Yn nyke gīmigon bona hēnkirī, hae mēre, kosti.” It is a difficult road that lays before us. But I know that together, as one, we can.

“Iksan nāpāsagon ñuha lentor.” I am betraying my family, You sniffed, another tear trailing down your cheek hotly.

Aemond frowned sadly at you, helping you to stand.

“Iksis ziry drēje?” Is it true? He asked quietly, “Issi ao lēda riña?” Are you with child?

You knew in your bones that you were.

Although there were not many symptoms but the inklings of sore breasts, you just knew. You knew instinctually that it was true. That the Gods had given you and Aemond another chance of being parents, and you would not lose that opportunity again.

You nodded, another tear rolling down your cheek, one of sorrow and joy.

Aemond bent his head down to kiss you gently, lips brushing against your own in reverence, but his hands upon your face showed the true excitement that he held back. They were firm, and tight, and almost tingled against your skin.

“I am scared.” You breathed.

“I will keep you and my child safe.” Aemond looked you in the eye, sincerity on his face, a hand coming to press gently at your stomach.

You smiled sadly at him, “Not if war breaks.”

“Even then. I will not lose you, or our child. You are the most precious thing in the world to me, my one and only love. Not even the Gods could take you from me.” He promised.

Your heart soared as you nodded up at him, rising on your tiptoes to capture his lips once more. He whispered an apology against your lips, and you couldn’t help the small sob that escaped.

“Please do not make me choose.” You whispered, hands holding the sides of his face, stubble brushing against the scar of your palm, the reminder of your union and love always there.

“You have already made your choice. Now they must make theirs.”

Aemond left you in the chambers alone to deliver your letter to Otto Hightower and Ser Criston Cole, who readied themselves to leave by ship that very evening. They would arrive to Dragonstone by morning.

And you would get your answer from the skies.

DRAGONSTONE POV

The morning broke the same way that it had before.

The sun rose above the waters surrounding Dragonstone, and cast the volcanic island in a glow of golden light. There was a light breeze that morning as the maids had opened the windows and balcony doors to Queen Rhaenyra and King Daemon’s quarters.

They had been dressed and readied, and broke their fast together. Little Viserys and Aegon the Younger tottered around their chambers, playing with tiny toy dragons that had been carved from wood.

The couple eventually made their way down to the study, Rhaenyra having gotten word from the men at the Red Fork that a certain war dragon had been spotted in the skies, and not seen to have left until almost a dozen days later.

As Rhaenyra shifted the letters at the large desk and Daemon sat lazily before the fir with one leg crossed over the other as Little Viserys sat on his knee, stories being whispered into the young boys ear as Aegon the younger sat on the floor playing with his toys, the door to the chambers were rapt by knuckles thrice in quick succession.

“Come.” Rhaenyra beckoned, and watched as the doors were opened swiftly by a Ser Erryk Cargyll.

The twin gave a short nod in greeting before apologising for his intrusion, “Your, Grace, there is a ship, just west of Dragonstone.”

Rhaenyra stiffened in her chair, and Daemon snapped his head to the man, quietening his whispers.

“It flies the banner of your brother.”

Rhaenyra stood from her seat slowly, Daemon going her with his son in his arms, the boy nestled against his side.

There had not been a ship to Dragonstone since the day Otto had come to watch her daughter be wed to her half-brother.

“Notify the council, have them be ready.” Rhaenyra commanded, and Ser Erryk bowed his head, leaving the chambers at once.

Rhaenyra and Daemon stared at each other, Viserys fussing in Daemon’s arms, sensing the tension that mounted in the room like a storm.

“Do you think it’s a trap?” Daemon breathed heavily, smoothing hair away from his sons head as two of Rhaenyra’s maids entered the chambers.

Daemon kissed the top of the boys forehead before handing him to one of the girls, the other scooping Aegon the Younger into her arms before exiting the chambers.

Rhaenyra moved around the desk, coming to stand in front of Daemon, “I believe we should be ready for it.”

By the time the two entered the Chambers of the Painted Table, the Small Council of Queen Rhaenyra were already standing around it in wait. Jacaerys stood off to the side, his Lady Wife, Baela beside him.

Lord Corlys stood to the side of Baela with Princess Rhaenys and their other granddaughter Rhaena, all who wore black and red, with hints of blue, as was their new and old House colours.

All other Lords and Maester’s stood at the other end.

“When should they arrive to shore?” Rhaenyra asked, forgoing a greeting as she walked swiftly to the head of the table with her husband.

“Within the hour, Your Grace.” Came the response of Maester Gerardys.

Rhaenyra nodded, looking amongst the table before she jumped into action.

“We need to be ready for whatever my brother Aegon has planned. Patrol the skies and the sea. Have men at the ready for anything.”

Jacaerys stepped forward, “I shall ride Vermax.”

Rhaenyra nodded, though her heart raced in her chest.

The last time she had allowed her children to take to the skies, only one came back.

“I’ll take Moondancer, Your Grace.” Princess Baela declared.

Rhaenyra gave the girl a small smile, “Good.” She turned to face Rhaenys, “Take Meleys to the sky. If Aegon or Aemond are to come on the backs of their dragons, we will need numbers and you are one of our best.”

Daemon was the next to speak, “I shall take Caraxes-”

“-No.” Rhaenyra argued, “You will stay with me. I need you at my side.” Turning to Lord Corlys, she requested the presence of his ships, “Have four of your ships ready at port.”

The older man nodded, moving swiftly out of the chambers to command them.

“You said there was only one ship?” Rhaenyra questioned the Maester.

“Yes, Your Grace. Only one has been spotted.”

The crown weighed heavily atop the Queens head in that moment, the first time she had ever truly felt the weight of it.

At first when Daemon had crowned her, it was foreign, but with time, she grew to not notice its presence, as though it was another set of braids atop her head. But now, she felt the heavy weight of it all, pressing down on her skull, hyperaware that she had a duty, and it was about to be tested.

Once the ships had been pulled to the docks, and her dragon riders had taken to the skies, Queen Rhaenyra and her King Consort, Daemon Targaryen, moved with the Queens Guard down to the meeting point of the path where they had stood before.

When greeted with Aegon’s terms.

And then later with the return of their daughter.

But this time, they waited and watched as the heads and banners of the Green three headed dragon came towards them, and they did not once sense that they would be reunited with their daughter once more. Instead, Ser Otto Hightower was flanked by Ser Criston Cole and members of her brothers Kings Guard.

Above them, three dragons flew in circles, watching from above.

Waiting.

Ready.

Ser Otto Hightower, in all his lithe glory, came to a stop before Queen Rhaenyra, looking all the more like a weevil that had crawled into a farmers grain.

For he was a pest that had wormed its way into her fathers life, and become the driving force of the usurpation of the throne, her daughter and sons deaths, and the removal of her surviving daughter to her half-brother.

Ser Otto was a man that Rhaenyra as a child had hoped and prayed that her father would have seen through. That Viserys could have seen the man before him was a mask, a shell, and hid his true intentions behind duty and tradition. But Viserys had been blinded by the wolf in sheep's clothing, and Otto’s lies had been strengthened by Daemon’s love for her.

Viserys never did get to see the ruin that his inaction would become.

Daemon, the once Rogue Prince, stood at his wife’s side diligently, as he had promised to do, large palms resting upon the two swords that flanked him, one being the Dark Sister blade. He struggled to not sneer at the man who had taken everything from him.

Taken his daughter from him. His brother.

“We come as envoys.” Otto began, Ser Cole staring at Daemon, his own hand atop the hilt of his sword.

Daemon had not forgotten Cole's place in all this either.

Crispin Cole.

Rhaenyra looked down at the men from her nose. Despite being shorter than them, she stood uphill, and gave the illusion that she was above them.

And she was.

Where she was Queen, they were mere Ser’s.

“King Aemond the First-“

“-Aemond?” Rhaenyra interrupted sharply, worry coursing through her chest, “Did my brother Aegon drink himself to death in his cups?”

Otto reached into his coat pocket, the Queen’s Guard shifting as they watched his movement carefully. Long fingers pulled apart his lapel and dove into the inner pocket, grasping the rolled parchment from their daughter.

Daemon shifted atop the balls of his feet.

Lord Hightower held out the scrolled parchment, green insignia stamped into its papery surface with wax, “A letter from the Queen.”

“Queen?” Daemon snipped, looking at the parchment.

Ser Erryk stepped forward to grasp the letter, armour shuffling as his eyes darted to his twin, Arryk Cargyll, who stood behind Otto Hightower.

It was a sad day for either twin, seeing their other half on different sides of a silent war. Their eyes met, if only briefly, all hurt and betrayal, before Erryk took the scroll and delivered it to Rhaenyra.

“King Aegon is dead. And in the line of succession, Aemond has taken his place.”

“What about his remaining son?” Daemon questioned, looking at the scroll briefly before back at Otto.

Otto held his hands behind his back, “Maelor is too young to rule at such a time, and Aemond has taken the Iron Throne.”

Ser Erryk held out the parchment for his Queen to take, which she took whilst keeping her eyes upon Otto, much like her husband, who continued to talk.

“Bend the knee to the King, swear your fealty to him and he shall allow you to remain here as the Lady of Dragonstone, whereafter your son Jacaerys the Lord of Dragonstone, and Joffrey Lord of Driftmark. The Queen has agreed to send word to you now that the treaty has ended with Aegon’s passing.”

Rhaenyra hastily unrolled the parchment, ripping the green wax insignia of the three headed dragon off the paper, the wax crumbling onto the stone below. Violet eyes roved over her daughters script whilst Daemon read over the top of her shoulder.

The Queen felt a tide of rage.

“I will not bend the knee to a usurper and kinslayer who is not even second in the line of succession. He has no right to the throne.” She hissed at the Hightower Lord, “Where is the Princess?”

“She is Queen Consort now, and shall live her days with the King in peace and safety. Your blood sits upon the Iron Throne, Rhaenyra, something that should satiate your desire for war. Bend the knee to Aemond, blood not be needlessly spilt again.”

Otto spoke like an old man telling his daughter or wife to buy something from the market that was not needed, and not at all like a man who was preventing a war.

Daemon quietly seethed beside his wife, looking at Otto, and having read two words that gave him the permission he so desperately sought. Daemon shifted, hand pulling the Dark Sister blade from her sheath and stormed forward.

“Fuck this.” Daemon sneered.

Ser Cole stepped toward him, and from above a dragon screeched.

It was a blur of guards, and the sound of men and their blades being unsheathed filling the air.

Ser Erryk Cargyll stepped to the side of Daemon, if not slightly more forward, blocking the blow of Ser Cole’s blade as Daemon moved towards Otto, whose eyes were wide in shock. Queen and King’s Guards met in the middle, a blur of bodies as Rhaenyra stood firmly, planted as she were.

Watching.

With a swing of the Dark Sister blade, Daemon sliced through Ser Otto Hightower’s shoulder, the blade cutting through flesh and bone as though it was butter, carving down to the middle of his chest.

Blood sprayed from his wound, and the older man cried out into the air, the beating wings of dragons loud above them.

As the King Consort pulled his blade from the Hightower Lord, who stumbled backwards on shaky legs, Daemon swung the Dark Sister blade into the air once more, connecting with his neck.

His body landed on the floor before his head did, which rolled downwards into the chaos of the guards and knights who fought, mouth open and eyes wide.

Ser Erryk blocked another swipe of Criston’s blade, who came at him harder and faster, anger and desperation in his eyes. Ser Arryk, his twin, steadily approached the two as he battled through the sea of fighting.

A few of Aemond’s men had turned back, running down the path to try to get back to their ship, to send word to the King, but a large shadow loomed above them, and with a cry, Baela screamed out her deathly command for the very first time.

“Dracarys!”

Moondancer, a slender and pale green dragon with pearl like horns, opened her jaws and a plume of fire was cast over the Green deserters. The flames devoured the men entirely, who screamed in agony, trying to outrun their burning flesh, before dropping to the floor below, silent and stiff.

Baela, to prevent any more attempting to escape, landed against the path, the large claws of her dragon digging into the stone sides, much like how Rhaenyra had, many moons ago.

Moondancer screeched, head down and long at the backs of Aemond’s men who turned to face the dragon in fear, swords lifted in a pathetic last chance of defence.

It was an opportunity that Rhaenyra’s men did not let pass.

And an opportunity Daemon didn’t either.

The Dark Sister blade cut through three men, and Jacaerys upon Vermax landed behind the Queen and her men, a subtle threat, and a vow of protection for his Queen Mother.

Vermax growled deeply, teeth bared, whilst Rhaenys continued to circle atop Meleys from above, searching the skies for any sign of her cousins.

Ser Cole, sensing that he was fighting a losing battle, did not give up, and came at Ser Erryk brutally. The twin stumbled backwards, Arryk moving towards Cole’s side as Criston's blade barely just missed the twins face.

But as Ser Cole was occupied, and Rhaenyra watched from behind stony faced, he did not see the shadow that passed behind him, nor did he anticipate the thrusting of the Dark Sister blade through the pummel of his chest.

Ser Erryk Cargyll took advantage of the opportunity, and turned to face his twin brother, a man who was the exact image of him bar small scars upon their bodies, and if you had asked Arryk a year before, he was taller. Their swords clashed together, moves and skill mirrored as both men had grown and trained together side by side.

Daemon Targaryen, the once Rogue Prince and now Rogue King, a man who was seasoned in war, and battle, and swordsmanship, stood behind Ser Criston Cole, blade in hand as it penetrated through the top of his chest under his shoulder. Blood dripped from its tip thickly as he looked down at it, eyes wide in shock.

Daemon’s silver hair, now streaked in blood, lifted gently in the breeze that rolled past.

The drops of Ser Cole’s blood was loud in Rhaenyra’s ears as she looked at the man dubbed ‘The King Maker’.

With a large boot, Daemon kicked the knight off of his blade, and onto his knees.

Ser Criston Cole landed with a thud, looking up at Rhaenyra, eyes darkened by hatred. The blade in his hand had fallen to the ground, and blood dripped down from his wound thickly, splattering across the stones like many of his other men.

Rhaenyra looked down her nose at the man, lips pulled back in a sneer.

It was quiet on the path, the only sound Rhaenys’ dragon calling out from above, and the sound of blood on stone. All other fighting was drowned out by the rage that pumped through her veins.

And as though connected through a bond, like rider and dragon, Daemon stood behind Ser Criston Cole, The King Maker; a man who had been sworn to Rhaenyra once before, a man she had once been intimate with when she was a young girl, a man who had witnessed the Gods affirmation that she was fit for the throne, a man who had aided the usurpation of the throne, a man who had broken his oath to the cloak, and Daemon heeded the Queen’s wordless command.

Daemon swung the Dark Sister blade one final time.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

@izzicle @ej-shitchats @may-machin @alegria1580 @witchy-jadda @videovampire @inkdelicious @queteimporta39 @virtualsweetsqueen @fo-cus @auratiqs @feyres-fireheart @queenofshinigamis @asoiafwh8re @teasandcrumpets @shesjustanothergeek @grungegrrrl@queenofsarcazm @marihoneywk @curlszx88 @virgogaia @loser-keiji @asoiafwh8re @whore-of-many-hot-men @vipervixxen @theonewiththeimaginaryboyfriends @watercolorskyy @lavendervisions @mazmack666 @chokefrog @orangejump-suit @nik2blog @serrhaewinin @ohemgeewhat @winxschester @cryptidsrcool @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @celestedonut @bloodyvelvet777 @iamapersonthatsalive @av-sos @yentroucnagol @sanzu-s @opheliaas-stuff @bellameshipper @maviee @persephonerinyes @neytiri-09 @ensnaredinwonderland @xbluegracex @sotragedynut @nattieot7 @shesawaywiththefairies-blog @coffedraven @prettycutebunny @celestedonut @the-jess-life @ssulfurr @out-of-life @madislayyy @crazylokonugget @cicaspair418 @katwmk @relminnie @milovart @teagrex @visenyaverse @bellameshipper @toodlesxcuddles @tempt-ress @dontmindmereading7 @qyburnsghost @55gyi53vtnquwziq5 @notnormalthings-blog @maidmerrymint @qyburnsghost @madislayyy @chelseaouat

Bold is who I cannot tag!

411 notes · View notes

darnell-la · 30 days

Text

𝗔 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗡 𝗧𝗢 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗬

pairing: the worst!logan howlett x Wade’s goddaughter!reader

warnings: cussing, heavy drinking, teasing, age gap, sex toys mention, body contact, rough sex, sniffing (Logan doing what he does best), etc.

note: full story here.

yes, the reader is black, BUT we don’t really mention it in the story. we want everyone to be able to read our stories to imagine themselves.

we will be turning this into a mini-series. there is a plot and there will be dark trauma. if you’re an X-Men fan, this won’t be too dark for you (maybe).

we rushed through this story... we will do better in part two.

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!

-----

“They treat you guys this good?” Logan asked as he stalked behind y/n who was now walking to her dorm room. “Yeah,” she said with a stern tone, still upset at the man.

Logan chuckled as she finally made it to her room. “Alright — Thank you for walking me to my room without me asking. I truly feel safe,” she faked a smile with an eye roll she’s been wanting to get out for a while.

“Suck up the damn attitude, bub. Only wanted you to be safe,” he truthfully told. Y/n’s heart felt soft at his words, but she didn’t let him know that.

“Can I see your room, Bub?” The man asked, feeling obligated too. He drove and walked her all the way here. Showing her set up would be the least she could do for him.

The man didn’t know what came over him, but deep down, he wanted to get to know the young lady. Usually, people have to beg for him to give them attention, maybe even do something for that would be if it him, but right now, all he’s doing is begging her for attention.

Y/n wanted to invite the man in, feeling like he deserved it, but she quickly remembered that she hadn’t cleaned up.

“No,” she said, trying to keep it simple. “Why not? You hidin’ a boy in there?” He teased. “No, I just- I haven’t cleaned, and I hate when people see my space dirty — Come by tomorrow,” she suggested as she walked behind her door to push it closed, but he placed his foot in between the door, stopping her from shutting him out.

“C’mon — Can’t be that bad,” he said before pushing the door open. A scoff left her mouth when the man walked in. She wanted to stay angry at the man, but he was kind enough to slip off her shoes. She did the same as she stalked the man, hoping he wouldn’t find anything.

The young lady prayed to god he wouldn’t walk into her bathroom — Sadly, he did. She went to yell for him to stop, but it was too late.

Y/n cover her face in embarrassment as the man walked in. She could hear him laughing, the laugh already sounding like a tease.

“Fuckin’ hell, kid — What are you studying in? Being a freak,” he joked as he walked out, closing the door behind him. “Get out, Logan,” she said, now upset, but more embarrassed.

“Hey, c’mon, sweet cheeks — It ain’t like Ian seen toys before. I mean, back in my day, there were only a few sizes but it seems like you’ve got them all,” he teased again with a laugh.

She hated the way he mocked her with no remorse, but deep down, she liked the feeling of being embarrassed. Of being caught. She knew his mocking wasn’t to make her feel bad. It was to overpower her in some way.

“Talk to me, y/n,” Logan broke the silence after she looked away. “You ain’t gettin’ the love you need?” He asked, stepping towards her with a dark intimidating look that made her knees buck.

Y/n didn’t reply to the man. He had no right to know about her personal life. Her sex life.

“Gotta buy all these toys to feel good? These little boys here ain’t lickin’ your bean right?” He teased, chest up against hers. The man softly turned her head towards him after she looked away, suddenly feeling all the lust run through his blood.

At first, she was just a child to him. A lying one at that. She had a fucked up attitude and carried herself like Wade’s long-lost twin.

Yet, she was too hot, and too beautiful to let that turn him off. Someone would have to work a miracle to make him dislike this one.

“Look at me, bub,” the man said, her eyes still looking somewhere other then his until they finally looked at him. “Because if you ain’t gettin' the love you want, I can do it for you,” Logan went all the way in, feeling his cock pulse at the way her eyes soften.

“W-What do you know about love?” She asked, making him chuckle. “I’m a simple man, baby — Ian gotta do much to impress that pretty body for yours. You sure don’t have to do much to impress mine,” Logan said as he grabbed her hand to place it on his hard-on through his thick blue jeans.

“Your collection sizes seem to be different sizes — like you’re looking for the perfect size,” the man read the young lady like a book. “I gotcha perfect size right here, and lemme tell ya — It’s way bigger than your biggest toy,” the man mocked the sad excuse of an extra large dildo she owned.

Before she could say anything, Logan picked her up and threw her on her bed. He’s been eying the bed ever since he walked in here, hoping that wasn’t the dirty she wasn’t talking about. He wanted to come right in here and try his luck.

“Logan,” she spoke, not saying anything to follow. All she did was watch him get undressed. “Am I disappointing you?” He asked, knowing he looked exactly how she imagined. How she liked.

He never forgot when Wade mentioned the Wolverine was her favorite superhero. He wondered why for a while until he saw what she saw in him.

He knew for sure he looked good. Her eyes would glance at his muscles every once in a while, but that wasn’t the giveaway. The giveaway was the way she looks up at him all day today. Those pretty eyes sparkling when his met hers, even if it was just a few seconds.

“Never,” y/n replied. Logan instantly groaned at her voice, thankful that she was willing to go on with his actions. “That’s a good girl,” the man growled as he hovered over the woman, heavy cock dragging up her leg.

“Your pants are so thin — I can smell your cunt like you’re walkin’ around asking for it,” he said before ripping them off. “And no panties? What a fuckin’ slut,” the man chuckled as he traveled his hands up her body.

“W-Wanted to look good in my shorts” she said, knowing her ass would jiggle just right. “Well, it worked, princess — But I prefer your shorts when they’re off,”

Logan attacked the girl's lips, kissing her roughly like he’d been starving to taste her for decades. She tasted so sweet. He knew she would.

Y/n wrapped her legs around the mans waist, allowing his cock to rub up against her bud and in between her folds. “Fuck,” he sighed as he leaned his head back before going back in to kiss her.

The man would’ve loved to watch his cock slip in her cunt, but he couldn’t get his body off of her. Instead, he lifted his hips high enough, moving until his tip pushed at her entrance.

Y/n whined at the feeling, knowing he was about to fill her the most she’s ever been filled before. Without warning, he did just that.

Y/n slightly screamed at his hard bullied thrust.

“Don’t worry, baby — Gonna stretch you just right. Mold this cunt until it’s my perfect fit,” he began snapping his hips as his mouth grazed on her ear.

“Gonna stay at Wade’s place, just for you — Fuck — Now I gotta tell the little bastard that you are a good reason to stay,”

Y/n moaned, nails now digging into his back at his words. The man groaned loudly, loving the slight pain she gave him. He was certain that anything y/n wanted to do to him, he’d enjoy. As long as he gets a taste of her soaking cunt right after.

“C-Cumming,” y/n cried out, gushing all over his cock. Then the man chuckled at how easier it was to fuck into her cunt now. The young girl was still tight, but her wetness made the feeling better.

“L-Lo,” y/n stuttered, not being able to say the man’s full name. When she fucked herself with toys, she mostly thinks about the man and how good Logan would feel in her. How he’d come back from a mission just to fill her up.

“Yeah, bub, You like it? Like my old cock up your pussy? Gonna tell the whole world how good I fuck you after this?” Logan snapped his hips hard, knowing y/n’s mind was slowly fading away.

“So fuckin’ dumb on my cock,” Logan grinned down at the girl. “Gonna have to come by here every day. Scare the boys away because I know for a fact, you bring ‘em up in here — I smell them,” Logan’s voice instantly seemed angry.

Y/n wasn’t sure until the man was upset until he leaned up and gripped her waist on both sides.

“W-What? I don’t do that,” she lied, and that was a mistake. She had been pounded so dumb, she forgot he had enhanced smelling.

“You’re in for one, bub,” Logan’s warned as his nails dug into y/n sides before he pulled her into his hard pounds. He was knocking the wind out of her repeatedly.

Y/n tried pushing herself back, but she could barely keep herself together. The moans and crying that came from her mouth, egged the huge muscular man on.

Watching her body jolt at each thrust and her tits bounce under her shirt, made him think about the future days he’ll be touched all over here.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” the man began to sweat. He hasn’t fucked this hard in a while. The load he’s about to give her will fill her cunt up to the fullest.

“Logan,” y/n moaned, head throwing back as another orgasm washed over her body. The man’s hips stuttered, watching her body arch as he kept her in place. The pulls into his thrust only made him closer.

“Y-You can’t be seen with me. I-I can end up hurting you,” y/n spoke, feeling like she needed to say something, but she was struggling. “Thought you said that’s how life is,” Logan reminded her.

“T-This is different — He can hurt you,” she said felt guilty for telling him so late. “I doubt anyone can hurt me,” he smiled down at her. Logan instantly realized that the girl was actually terrified.

“H-He’ll do anything to hurt me,” Y/n teared up as she lifted her hands to his face. “Then I’ll end him so he won’t get the chance to hurt you again,” the man said, ready to get at any college student who made her feel this fear.

Y/n pulled Logan into a tight hug, rolling her hips up into his thrust. She was scared, but soon felt safe again. Logan could handle the heat that was coming. He’s the Wolverine. He helps people. He helped Wade save his world.

He could save y/n’s world. He can save her peace. He can save her.

Logan bite down on y/n's neck, trying to form love marks as his cock twitched around her walls. The thought of her needing him, made him feel good. He's always needed someone to depend on him, but this felt different.

Logan had a choice to leave, but he's choosing to stay and make y/n understand she's too young and pretty to be going through a rough time with a man.

"Gonna cum, bub," the man's voice muffled into her neck as he pulled her closer. Y/n's walls clenched around the man’s length, sucking him in tightly. "F-Fuck," the man slightly moaned right before he spilled into y/n, filling her up until she couldn't hold his seed anymore.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

68 notes · View notes

dufferpuffer · 1 month

Note

Just read your post about Tonks. Tonks surely was a student of Snape's. Just imagine. Tonks. In Potions. With Snape. Tonks, canonically the clumsiest character of the entire series. Potions. The SUBTLE science and EXACT art of potion-making. NO foolish wand-waving or silly incantations. Tonks is not subtle and exact. Tonks is foolish and silly. And that, to Snape, is INFURIATING. However, Tonks is an Auror. This means Tonks succeeded in getting an Outstanding O.W.L in Potions. This means Tonks took Potions N.E.W.T. This means Snape was probably hoping and praying he would never see her face again after her 5th year but SURPRISE. The girl is SMART and Snape is, unfortunately for him, a fair grader (yes he is idc what people say). I want to see this. I want to see Tonks being an absolute clumsy mess in Potions and Snape being livid but at the same time frustrated because he knows she has potential but she's just not careful and she's witty and talks back and he can't just truly hate her. THIS brings me to the scene in HBP where Tonks brings Harry to the gates after he got knocked out by Malfoy on the train. She sends a Patronous inside the school to get the gates opened. Snape comes and tells her that he noticed her Patronus had changed (now a wolf so cute omg). Therefore, Snape remembers her Patronus from before, but it's like he catches himself and makes a sly remark about her new Patronus being weak because it's a wolf. Like a father disapproving of his daughter's choices for falling in love with a mangy werewolf (love you Remus). Idk I loved that scene because it hints that they have a bit more history together than we think. It could also just be from both being part of the order, but I feel there is a bit more. What do you think dear tumblr friend?

I think she and Snape were buddies. As much 'buddies' as Snape can manage with a student, anyway.

There is a reason Tonks stomachs Moody so well - and its because she's had A LOT of practice with grumpy hard asses. She takes biting comments well, she isn't ever afraid to dish humor back, she knows well when to take things seriously and when to help lighten the mood - handy for people who can't relax easily.

She trained those teeth on Snape, I guarantee it. She LIKES bastards. She enjoys making people happy, she enjoys exceeding expectations, she likes proving herself reliable - and bastards are the hardest to please. She doesn't see blemishes or ugliness or scars - just the person. She likes making them smile.

She's clumsy. She's a disaster. He can't ignore her no matter how much he might want to sometimes - because she might die... ...and yet, her skill is obvious. She pulls through when she needs to. I like to think Potions might have been one of her worst subjects - but she worked hard at it, and enjoyed it, and asked questions.

Not just "Did I chop the Mudwort root thin enough, Sir?" But "Ey, Prof - if this potion utilities the healing properties within the cells of the root, shouldn't we be grinding it rather than slicing it...?" You know. She's actually invested, deeply learning about the topic, willing to experiment. Making him answer with thought. "...No, breaking the cell wall makes it burn away too quickly. We slice thinly to ensure good, even absorption."

And then her cauldron explodes later anyway because she accidentally tipped some leaves in with the slices. Oops. BUT... she will stay behind to fix it. She will ask to practice when she has free time. She isn't talented, nor careful - but its hard not to appreciate her enthusiasm and her dedication to success. He spent a lot of time with her. Being able to mark her a genuine "O" in her NEWTs was one of his proudest moments as a teacher.

Perhaps it's part of why Hermione annoys him so much, too - she appeared like an interested student on the surface, having read her books... but she never stepped the fuck up. She never tried. She never pushed it. She never used her brain. An insufferable know-it-all is ONLY better than a complete dunderhead in that they're safer to have in the classroom. But she doesn't encourage other students learning, she doesn't push herself, she doesn't actually care about the topic... just getting everything right, to prove she is smart or whatever.

Same with Neville: A clumsy oaf that seems to do nothing at all to mitigate that fact. barely even stays behind to clean his own messes. They say Longbottom is 'frightened of him' - well he isn't there to coddle him. He never needed to coddle Tonks. She took his bite as a challenge to do better and soared because of it. She was an oafish moron... but a rare gem.

...And then she started dating FUCKING LUPIN The first thing he said when she was so obviously showing interest it made him feel ill was "...You know he is a werewolf, yes?" And when she responded "Yeah, duh - what of it?" He groaned "Of course... you've never had any common sense..." And the look he snapped at her when she cheekily said "...Gave you hell at school, too - didn't he?"

Tonks teased him. Of course she did. There were days when he walked into class to see she had turned into a foolish version of him... But she knew how to hold back. She is a highly empathetic woman. Even when she was young... the few times she sensed perhaps she went too far: She was mature enough to apologize. Sensitive enough to realize he would not want such apology in front of others, either - and wait till after class to hang her head. It was difficult to stay mad at her. She was just too damn earnest.

In many ways: She reminded him of Lily. Firey, obsessed with magic, popular, friendly - brightened up every room she entered. Seemingly cared about everyone. Even him. It was just... pleasant. Familiar. She was a very different person, of course - but interacting with her felt a little like home. Perhaps a few times a little piece of him slipped out to her - something more juvenile and playful than he has been for years.

...That's what I think, tumblr friend B^) I think its a good thing they didn't find out eachother had died. They would have been distraught for eachother.

But if they both lived...? I think she could have been the thing that healed Snape and Lupins relationship. They both care for her - and can at least be civil with eachother for her sake.

Imagine: post-war family BBQ's with Snape and Lupin arguing over how to cook. Lupin wants to prove himself handy but Snape knows he's fucking useless. (Tonks is the true BBQ dad.) Snape babysitting Teddy. He'd be such a good uncle.

EDIT: Remus and Tonks were BOTH awful at potions. Tonks at least became competent through sheer effort - but they still both go to beg him for help when they need anything. I think Lupin/Tonks/Snape would be fun :^)

#hp #severus snape #nymphadora tonks #remus lupin #mywrite #headcannons #this is a ramble I know #im good at that B^)

68 notes · View notes

milkpup · 9 months

Text

｡⋆ʚ♡ like father, like son

›› chapter 2 ›› nsfw 18+ ongoing multi-chapter fic!

previous chapter ♡ next chapter

ʚ ao3 ɞ / ʚ kofi ɞ / ʚ fic masterlist ɞ

›› toji fushiguro x reader ›› megumi fushiguro x reader ›› toji x reader x megumi (mfm) ›› 18+ f!reader ›› started: 12/6/23 : updated: 1/29/24 : status: ongoing

‹𝟹 summary: You and Megumi are best friends. You've known eachother for almost your whole life. His home has become your second home. As time passes and life happens, Megumi slowly develops feelings for you, even though he's unaware of it. To complicate things further, you're now living with him and his father, who has also taken a liking to you.

‹𝟹 fandom: jjk, jujutsu kaisen

‹𝟹 genres / warnings: au - no powers, college au, power imbalance, pseudo-incest (they both want y/n, nothing w/ eachother), dubious consent

‹𝟹 tags: good cop bad cop, fluff, smut, angst, toji has a big dick, dilf toji, toji is his own warning, toji tries to be a good parent, toji is an asshole, toji is trying okay?, daddy dom toji, daddy kink, porn with feelings, porn with plot, friends to lovers, spit / spitting, spit kink, spit as lube, breeding, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, double vaginal pen, double pen, anal, making out, making love, love triangles, praise kink, degradation, light masochism, light sadism, emotional sex, cuckolding, jealousy, jealousy kink, smoking, smoking kink, emotional manipulation, manipulation, polyamory?, father and son share you, protective megumi fushiguro, megumi needs a hug, megumi has a big dick, aged up characters, dead dove: do not eat, finger sucking, large cock, cum swallowing, blow jobs, first time blow jobs, under desk blow jobs, fingerfucking, face sitting, face riding, 69, mutual masturbation, threesome mfm, lots of smut, loss of virginity

‹𝟹 notes: formatting next chapter for tumblr! there are currently 4 posted on ao3. i have the 5th in the works! it gets spicy!

!! - again, PLEASE READ TAGS BEFORE CONTINUING - !!

! - ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+ - !

Chapter 2: Intimacy and Exposure

By mid afternoon, you and Megumi are both exhausted with your full course load. You both major in biology, no emphasis right now. Megumi loves animals, so he will probably pursue something veterinary later. As for you, you’re undecided. You chose biology because it’s very general and broad, and also so you could be with Megumi more. You would never tell him that, though. You just say “idk maybe some science-y crap” and shrug it off.

You weren’t able to get lunch, so you both decide to visit a coffee shop after your last class of the day. A snack and some caffeine would help get you through for a while until you decide what you want to eat that night.

Megumi orders his usual black cold brew and muffin. The barista asks how to spell his name, and giggles? Is she flirting with him?

“That’s a cute name…” She says as she writes it down on his cup. “And for you…?” She barely glances at you.

You’re not sure how you feel in that moment. Was she flirting with Gumi? Am I jealous? Why is my heart racing?

“Oh I’ll just get an iced black tea and a banana bread please.” You try to not show your emotions while speaking. You’re not sure why you feel this way though.

You hope and pray to whoever is out there, any deity listening, that Megumi would not see you blushing and jealous.

You think you’re in the clear, he didn’t notice. He drives you home and you scroll your phone, acting like everything is normal. In reality, you’re shaking.

Sitting around the table, you both have your laptops and books out in front of you. It’s been a couple hours of studying, and you’re ready to take a break.

“Gumi, can we take a break and watch something? If I read the word bacteria one more time I’m going to go insane.” You tell him more than ask, already getting up out of your seat. You’re yawning, walking straight towards your bedroom, not even bothering to wait up for him. You already know he will follow.

Your room is hyperfeminine, plushies everywhere, cute shit everywhere. But you also have a mix of other stuff, like your consoles and gaming setup (that Megumi helped you get), a bass guitar that you’ve barely touched, piles of books you haven’t sorted yet.

You turn the tv on, hopping onto your bed. Megumi follows and lies next to you. You’re already aware of his presence and he isn’t even touching you.

“What do you wanna watch, Gumi?” You ask as you scroll through different apps.

“Whatever you want, you have better taste in movies and shows.” He doesn’t really care, he just savors the opportunity to be close to you. He lies behind you, almost touching but not quite. He’s close enough to feel the tickle of your hair. He feels weird thinking that your hair smells nice.

You choose some random comedy show, not caring to pay any attention. You just wanted a chance to rest and turn your brain off for a while.

Megumi moves a little close, resting his hand on the side of your abdomen. This isn’t the first time you’ve been close to Megumi, you both used to cuddle under the same blanket on cold nights or huddle under one when playing games as kids. But for some reason, now it feels different. Maybe it’s because you’re hyperaware? It has to be that, right?

Your heart beats faster, your skin feeling warm to the touch with every movement he makes. Does he notice? Is he aware of these things too? Am I overthinking things?

An hour passes by, but it feels like an eternity. You’re so hyperaware that every second feels like 20 minutes have passed. He hasn’t done more than gently caress the side of your body. He doesn’t seem to be making any advances. So why is this so painful to endure? Why does a simple touch make your body feel hot, with something pooling in between your legs?

Megumi is aware. You think he isn’t, but he can tell. Your breathing is irregular, your pulse is uneven, your skin is hot. He notices, and it drives him insane. But he’s respectful, he wouldn’t try anything. You are basically siblings with how long you’ve known eachother and lived together.

It’s getting hard to breathe. Even the lightest touch sends jolts through your body. You turn around to meet his gaze, with a look he’s never seen before. Your face is red, you’re struggling to breathe, while looking into his eyes like you know his secret. He’s flushing too, starting to sweat, feeling heat spread through his body. Your eyes are intoxicating to Megumi.

He looks at your eyes, then your panting lips, and back to your eyes again. He’s thinking of everything he wants to do to you, he doesn’t care if it’s wrong.

He touches your cheek, caressing you gently. Your breath hitches as he’s so close to you. He runs his fingers down your neck, before he pushes you to your back. It’s not forceful by any means, but mostly surprising.

He’s on top of you, pinning your arms to your pink bedsheets as he leans down towards you.

“Y/N…” he breathlessly speaks, “tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

You definitely do not want it to stop. You’re staring up at him with your doe eyes, unable to control your breathing. He leans in closer, his face not even an inch away from yours.

His lips crash into yours. You’re surprised, you didn’t think he would be so intense, and this good at kissing. He’s biting your lip, trying to elicit little yelps and mewls from you. He’s kissing you so roughly, forcing his tongue inside your mouth. Megumi is still on top of you, pressing his body against yours.

You can feel his heartbeat, his hot skin, his bulge against your body. You don’t know why, but you lift your hips and legs up a bit to angle yourself better against his body. Feeling him so close, pressing into you was making you feel almost drunk.

He releases one of his hands from pinning yours so he can caress your cheek a bit more. His hand travels down your neck again, moving towards your chest, before eventually resting at the bottom hem of your shirt.

He’s giving you sloppy kisses, before he momentarily stops to ask you a question. “Y/N, can I?” he asks while gentle tugging on your shirt.

You giggle. He’s too damn cute. You nod your head yes and he releases your other hand.

You pull your shirt above your head, leaving your bralette on.

He looks down at your flushed frame, no longer hidden behind some random band t-shirt. The moment you take your shirt off, he’s harder than ever before. You feel him poking into you a bit.

He kisses you with more passion this time, grinding his bulge into your clothed cunt. He’s grunting and making little moans in between kisses.

He lifts his head a bit to look at you and moves his hand over your bralette. He admires the intricate lace detail, thinking it suits you perfectly. He licks his lips. You know he wants to desperately feel what’s under, but you decide to tease him a bit.

You wrap your legs around his waist, forcing your bodies to be even closer. He grunts a bit, looking at you. You smirk and pull his head back down to make out with you.

You’re grinding against him with fervor, unrelenting and unforgiving. The feeling of him rubbing against you is oh so good, and extremely hot.

He moves his hand towards the waistband of your shorts. “May I, Y/N?” You think it’s sweet that he asked. You decide to reward him a bit.

You roll him over and push him against the mattress. You quickly get up and pull your shorts off, leaving your panties on. You take your bralette off. He’s watching you like a starved dog, savoring every second of this.

You pull his sweatpants off, leaving only his boxers on. He’s looking at you, with wide eyes, excited and surprised.

You straddle his waist, sitting on top of him. You grind against him, eliciting sounds of pleasure from his lips. You lean towards him, giving him a quick kiss on the lips, before leaving a trail down his neck. You suck on his skin, giving him small and faint lovebites. He looks so cute.

You have a suddenly devious idea. “Megumi, can I try something?”

He instantly nods yes; he wants you to do anything and everything with him.

“Lay down then, please. I want to try something I saw online once….” You say as you move towards his head. You’re hovering above him now. He’s directly at eyelevel with your clothed pussy, and he feels his boxers get tighter the closer you get.

“Let me know if you need me to stop, please <3.” You hum as you pull your panties aside and lower yourself onto his face.

He can feel your drenched cunt against his mouth and instinctually starts getting at it. Licking and sucking like it was his last supper. Megumi couldn’t really breathe, but he didn’t care. He could die right now and have no regrets. He would die a happy man.

You moan as he’s sucking and flicking between your folds. The noises you make drive him even more insane, he thinks he could cum right then with how much of a turn on it is.

You lift yourself up, giving him a moment to catch his breath as you look down at him. He’s staring up at you with the eyes of an animal.

You sit back down, and he continues once more. Sucking on your clit, savoring the taste of your essence, and basically fucking the air. He’s straining against his boxers now, desperate for any touch or release.

You have another idea. You lift yourself back up and turn around, your cunt still in front of his face. You lean down towards his straining cock. You push your cunt back down on his face, and like a good boy, he continues again.

“Fuck Megumi…” You whimper out as you push against his tongue. You move your hand over his boxers, palming his cock. You notice he’s quite big and you’re a little scared.

You release his cock from his underwear and it springs up. Megumi grunts under your touch. You stroke his cock a bit, slowly. That’s not your objective however.

You lift up once more as you move to spit on top of his cock. Megumi moans again, feeling the sensation of your spit covering the head of his cock.

You sloppily kiss the tip, earning a moan and a few curses from Megumi. “Fuck… Y/N.”

You move forward to suck the tip, before letting it come out with an audible pop sound. “You have hands too, Megumi…”

Your pussy is still in front of him, and he gently moves his hand to brush over your clit, circling it. You moan as you take him back into your mouth again. You’re desperately hoping this feels good, it’s your first time doing any of it.

Megumi pushes his index finger in, noticing how wet and tight your cunt already is. He’s salivating at the thought of when he can fuck your tight hole, but he’s content with just learning your body for now. Everytime he pumps his finger in and out, he hears your sweet, angelic voice.

The way you respond to his touch is music to your ears. Your mewls and whimpers drive him crazy enough already.

You take his cock back in your mouth, trying to push more in as he fucks you with his finger. He adds another of his slender fingers inside, feeling how he’s stretching you already. You moan around his cock, and this turns Megumi on more.

He moves to push you against the bed again, pushing your body down gently. He never breaks contact with your cunt, as he starts to fingerfuck you even harder. He’s watching you squirm and moan under his touch, and he can’t get enough of it.

“Megumi… Aah!!” His touch is relentless. He wants to hear every sound you can possibly make. He finger fucks you harder, feelings your walls clamp around his fingers. He uses his other hand to rub circles around your clit. You’re nearing your climax, and he’s eager to see all of it.

You’re drunk in the pleasure that is Megumi’s skilled fingers. He brings you to the edge, watching as pleasure washes over your entire body. He pulls his fingers out and licks them clean, wanting to savor your juices all while never breaking eye contact with you.

Your chest is heaving, but you want to make this man feel good too. You roll over and crawl across the bed towards him. He sits atop the bed once more, spreading his legs open and smirking.

The way you’re crawling towards him is incredibly hot. He knows what you’re about to do.

You make your way to his cock, spitting on it once more and stroking it a bit. You know you can’t fit all of this beast, but you want to try your hardest.

You look up at him as you take his cock into your mouth. You make it about halfway before you feel at your limit.

“Y/N, you’re taking me so well. You’re such a good girl,” he praises you as you drool over his cock. He gently grabs your hair, not tugging but mostly just applying pressure.

Your pussy drips again at the praise as you continue to go up and down. You’re finding a rhythm to breathe and still go at a decent pace. Using your hands also helps, and whenever you fondle his balls, Megumi’s eyes roll back into his head a bit.

“Y/N.. I’m close..” He says as he bucks his hips against your mouth. “Please.. don’t stop..”

You suck harder and moan against his cock. You don’t particularly like the idea of cum in your mouth, but for Megumi, you would do it.

He covers the back of your throat with his cum, and groans as you empty his balls like an expert. “Y/N… fuck…”

You pull back up, trying to not show how displeased you are with the taste of cum.

“That was… fuck…” He lets out an exhausted sigh. “Fucking… amazing…”

You’re laying down together again, not even caring to get dressed again. The studying can wait for later, for now you want to relish this moment.

You’re not sure what this means between you two, but you’re still happy that it happened. You yawn as he snuggles around you as the big spoon, surrounding by the same fuzzy blanket and cute plushies.

He thinks it’s so cute how tired you get after that. He lays there as you fall asleep before him, memorizing and tracing every detail of your body.

Toji comes home not long after Megumi finally passes out. He doesn’t see food on the table, and goes to check your room. He sees you and Megumi, asleep under your fuzzy pink comforter.

‹𝟹 notes: i will have the next chapter posted here asap :D feedback is always appreciated! ao3 has all the chapters so far!

previous chapter ♡︎ next chapter

‹𝟹 notifs: @vvxxccaa @arylaa @starshipxoxo

ʚ join my notifs ɞ

(･ω･)つ divider creds to @/cafekitsune and @/eloquentreverie

#jjk fanfic #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk megumi #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi x y/n #megumi x you #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk fic #jjk x reader #megumi smut #fushiguro x reader #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #ao3 tags #toji smut #jjk smut

212 notes · View notes

whimsyfinny · 8 months

Text

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

Chapter Word Count: 2803

—-MDNI—-

A/N: My first Supernatural fic so I hope it doesn’t suck ass. Only proof read by myself, so pls let me know of any errors so I can correct! Also I know at this point in the series Dean is more serious, however I love pre-Hell Dean so imma bring some of those vibes in here. This is also posted on my AO3.

——————————————————————

Please read the below first:

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 3

The rest of that day was pretty uneventful. Charlie practically threw my sad lone duffle bag through the front door and left before I could give her a piece of my mind for just leaving me here. I helped Sam put away the groceries he’d bought, emphasising that ‘we don’t put things down, we put them away’, otherwise we end up living in filth again. I also cleared some space around the study area that seems to be the centre of the bunker, and much to my dismay, threw out even more take-out boxes and beer bottles. I arranged all of the research that had been left on the desk in a mess, organising it into piles of read and unread; or at least what looked read and unread to me. The whole time Dean sat at this very desk and was watching cartoons on Sam’s laptop whilst his brother was in the shower, letting me do all the dirty work as he just sat there and relaxed. When I was finally done, I slumped down in the chair opposite him and slid all of the neat stacks of research towards myself. Dean looked up at me, his relaxed ‘cartoon-watching’ expression fading slightly.

“What are you doing?” He asked. I looked up at him like he was stupid.

“What do you think? I’m catching up on what you guys have been researching.”

He closed the laptop and folded his arms across his chest, the cotton of his flannel pulling tight over his large biceps.

“That’s such a waste of time.”

“And why, pray tell, is it such a waste of time Dean?”

“It’ll take you days, maybe weeks to catch up on what we know - either me or Sam can give you a rundown on what’s most important in an hour,” his tone was very matter-of-fact, like he didn’t want to be argued with. I sighed, crossing my arms on the table in front of me, leaning forwards.

“That’s great, you can still do that, but the more clued up I am as to what is going on then the more chance we have of finding what you need,” I paused for a second, a thought flashing across my mind. “Come to think of it, you haven’t even told me why I’m here, other than to ‘do research’. What are you looking for that has you so stumped?” Dean sucked a breath in through teeth, shifting slightly in his chair.

“The Fist Blade,” his tone had a thickness to it that I couldn’t place.

“The First Blade? As in Cain and Abel? THAT First Blade? ”

“Bingo.”

“But surely that’s long gone by now, it’s been two millennia at least. Nothing can last that long…can it?” I asked almost rhetorically. Dean shrugged.

“That’s what we want to know too,” his eyes flicked up and caught mine, his gaze burning into mine for only a moment with such intensity I felt my breath catch in my chest. The dark purple bruising on his face around his eyes made that forest green even more vibrant and alluring. There was a pause - for some reason I couldn’t look away and I had to catch myself before glancing at his bruised lips, which I knew already were devilishly charming. Right as I gave in to temptation and saw the corner of Deans poor split lip twitch into a smirk, Sam saved the day by striding in, towel-drying his hair. He paused, looked at us and frowned quizzically, almost like he was more surprised that we weren’t throwing furniture at each other. He didn’t say anything on that topic though, because as he looked around he noticed I’d cleaned. Again.

“(Y/n) you really have to stop cleaning up our mess,” he smiled, hanging his towel on the back of his chair as he took a seat next to me, his long legs grazing mine slightly.

“Sam just say ‘thank you’,” I tilted my head up to him - he was still enormous even when he was sitting down. He laughed slightly, almost bashfully as he looked down for a second at his twiddling thumbs before locking his eyes with mine again.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I returned his smile at last, holding it for a few seconds before continuing: “So Dean has just been explaining to me what you’re looking for. Surely the First Blade is long gone by now? How would it have survived this long, and still be functional - not just some pile of dust?” Sam huffed out an already exasperated breath, slouching back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, much like how Dean was sitting.

“I have no idea, at this point I feel like we’re grasping at air,” we all mumbled in agreement, suddenly sitting in a solemn sort of silence. It was short lived though as Sam leant forwards, pushing his damp hair from his eyes and trying to lighten the mood.

“Guys why don’t we just leave it for a few hours and get something for dinner? It’s getting late and we should really eat.” Dean suddenly sprang forwards, sitting up straight and lacing his fingers together on the desk with a grin on his stupid face.

“Good idea Sammy - I can’t wait to try her cooking. If she can cook half as well as she cleans then we’re in for a treat.”

“You son of a bitch!” I jumped up, grasping the first thing I could find (a file on God knows what) and smacked him across the face with it. Deans head turned with the force - albeit not much - and another stupid grin crept onto his stupid lips. He chuckled his deep, chesty laugh and tenderly touched his already sore face, wincing slightly.

“Just for a second I forgot you hated my guts,” he drawled, rising to his feet.

“Well you don’t do yourself any favours by talking to me like that.”

“Yeah? Well maybe if you weren’t such a hot head you’d be able to take a joke.”

“A joke? You call that a joke? Jokes are supposed to be funny, Dean, there wasn’t even a punchline,” I had started to raise my voice slightly and he gave me an extremely puzzled look.

“Hold the fucking phone - are you mad at me because I ‘insulted’ you or are you mad that there was no punchline?”

“I’m mad at YOU, because you’re just trying to rub me up the wrong way on purpose!”

There was a pause, and a smirk and a twinkle in Deans eye.

“Well I’m sure if you ask Sam nicely he’ll rub you up the right way.”

“DEAN!” Sam and I both cut in at the same time and when I glanced at him I noticed a faint pink glow on his cheeks.

“What?” He threw his hands up, “Sam you’ve been acting like a schoolgirl around her since we met her at the diner, always jumping to her aid first. Just admit you have a crush ok?” Dean gave his younger brother an ‘all knowing look’ as Sam covered his face.

“Dean I’m going to pretend you never said any of that and just move on,” Sam turned to me and said in a hushed tone “I’m so sorry,” before looking back at his brother, who was now reaching for his jacket. “And where are you going?” Sam quizzed.

“To get dinner, that’s what this whole conversation escalated from right? About what we were going to eat? Well I’m going to get takeout, what do you both want?” Dean said, throwing his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Dean sit down,” I chimed in, my voice sterner than I intended.

“What?”

“Just sit the fuck down. Both of you. Carry on researching and making yourself useful,” I said, moving away from the table.

“Why?” Sam did as he was told but Dean looked at me like I’d asked him to eat tofu.

“Because I’m not letting you boys eat yourself to death with E numbers and MSG. I’ll cook something,” and as the words left my mouth I saw Deans eyebrows raise so much I thought they might push his hairline back. Before he could get a single word out Sam spoke on behalf of both of them:

“If you’re really ok doing that, (Y/n), you’ve already done so much today-”

“Sam it’s fine, I really don’t mind. I actually enjoy cooking, and since Bobby’s been gone I’ve had no one to cook for. So yeah it’s ok,” I smiled at him reassuringly, and he smiled back.

“Ok, if you’re sure,” he paused, looking to his older brother who had removed his jacket and was taking a seat again, “I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to just because Dean-”

“Really Sam, I’m fine with it. I was planning to cook even before the jackass opened his trap.” The younger Winchester gave me a final ‘ok’ before I spun on my heel and walked towards the kitchen, not even bothering to give the older Winchester a second glance.

I guess it’s time to find out what these boys have lurking in their pantry.

I’d been cooking for maybe half an hour when I was finally done and called the boys to the kitchen. I set three places at the table, and placed down three beers and enough cutlery for all of us, alongside various condiments they might want. I was just serving up as they walked in, muttering to themselves about something they’d researched. As they both sat down, I placed two plates in front of them and watched their faces light up.

“STEAK!” They both had wide grins as they picked up their cutlery and immediately dug in.

“Don’t get too excited, it’s nothing special. Plus the fries were frozen and the mac ‘n’ cheese was instant,” I said, placing down my own plate and taking a seat between them.

“Don’t care, ‘s home cooked,” Dean said with a mouthful of food, reaching for his beer. Sam just nodded vigorously in agreement.

“Well ok then,” I smiled to myself, I guess a little happy that they were happy. And for once that Dean had nothing smart to say. Yet.

Dinner was pretty uneventful - and short - as the boys practically inhaled their food. When their plates were empty they just sat at the table in a happy silence, rubbing their full bellies.

“Considering you just used what we already had and didn’t go shopping for anything, that was fucking beautiful,” Dean said, stifling a burp. I looked at him in surprise.

“Oh… Thanks Dean,” I half smiled down at him as I stood to collect their plates. He put his hand out to stop me, taking them from my grasp and pushed gently on my shoulder, urging me to sit. He returned the half smile, standing up.

“No problem. Now let me do this, you’ve done enough for us today already. Take a break,” his voice was low and strangely kind towards me, and I was almost lost for words as I felt his firm chest brush against my arm as he took the plates from me, his body heat reaching my skin through the fabric. Was he being serious, or just leading up to be a dick in a rather roundabout way? Who knows. But I should try to appreciate the moment at least.

Dean washed up whilst Sam dried everything and put it all away, and I sat sipping my beer as they bustled about for a few minutes. Once they were done, Sam took his seat back at the table and Dean grabbed the tea towel, roughly wiping the surfaces and flinging it over his shoulder when he was done.

“And now it’s pie time,” he said suddenly, sparks of joy in his voice. I grinned.

“Oooh, can I have some?” I asked. Dean turned to look at me like I’d asked him to shoot a puppy, and Sam muttered an ‘oh boy’ under his breath.

“Can you have some?” Dean repeated my request back to me, those sparks of joy in his voice no longer there.

“Yeah…please? I saw it in the fridge earlier, there’s definitely enough to share,” I stated, starting to feel like I was missing something here. Sam cleared his throat and I turned to look at him, an unusual expression on his face.

“Uhhh…(Y/n), Dean doesn’t share his pie. Not even with me.” Dean slammed the fridge door closed, said pie now in hand.

“You’re Goddamn right. The pies mine, now back off,” he gave me a warning look as he grabbed a fork and sat back down next to me again.

“Fuck me; really? What are you, a child? Who the fuck won’t share a pie made for four people?” I asked, getting exasperated with Deans bullshit. I knew the kindness wouldn’t last.

“Me.”

“Fuck you.”

“Guys, I’m gonna go and get some sleep - I’ll be back in a few hours. Thanks for dinner (Y/n), it was great,” Sam stood and pinched the bridge of his nose, not being inconspicuous at all about being done with bickering between Dean and I. He smiled softly at me before he left, patting my shoulder as I said a quiet ‘sleep well’ to him before he exited the room. Then it just left me and Dean. Again.

“Just one slice,” I asked abruptly, watching him shovel pastry into his face.

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Dean I made you dinner and tidied your shit, the least you can do is give me a slice,” I slid forward in my chair, inching closer to him in a new attempt to get him to share.

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“No.”

“Fuck,” I threw my hands up before leaning forwards a little more so I was now close enough to smell him. And annoyingly he smelt divine - his cologne mixed with the scent of old leather and woodsmoke, perhaps a little gunpowder too. I breathed in, trying to get to the sweet smell of the desert he had, but all I could smell was him. I tried to ignore it. He was still a douchebag.

“One bite?” He sighed and turned to look at me, noses almost touching as I flinched back, not realising how much I’d shuffled towards him. He sighed, dropping his head slightly.

“Ok, just one bite,” he said as I did a very quiet squeal of delight. I reached for the fork in his hand but he held it up out of my reach, shaking his head.

“No. Not you.”

“Dean, come on.”

“Open.”

“What are you-”

“Open your mouth,” he said sternly, those evergreen eyes finding mine.

“Wait wha-”

“Open your Goddamn mouth (Y/n)” he said, his voice turning gravelly as I felt his breath on my face. I felt heat start to flood my cheeks and I couldn’t tell what emotion it was coming from, as I had started to feel a lot of things all at once. What made my head spin a little though was hearing my name fall from his lips - he hadn’t said it before, at least not to my face. And I hated myself for liking how it sounded. I didn’t say anything to him as I eventually did as I was told; opening my mouth and instinctively sticking out my tongue a little. I wasn’t sure where to look, so I looked at him - the concentration on his face as he scooped up an acceptable amount of pie to part with was amusing to say the least. Happy with my tiny portion, he turned to me and put the fork on my tongue, to which I closed my lips around as he slowly pulled it from my mouth, leaving the amazingly sweet desert behind. With my eyes now closed, I couldn’t help but hum in delight, savouring every flavour before I swallowed it down. Slowly opening my eyes again, I wasn’t expecting to see Dean still watching me, lips slightly parted as his gaze flickered between my eyes and my sticky lips, which I was now licking clean. He seemed to catch himself quickly though, immediately scooping up more pie for himself and cramming it into his own mouth. I sat back in my chair, picking up my beer and draining the bottle.

“Next time you buy a pie, Winchester,” I started, standing and tossing the bottle in the bin, “buy one for me so we don’t have this problem again.” He looked up at me just as I turned to leave.

“No promises,” his lip quirked slightly - so slightly that I wondered if he’d even smirked at all. I scoffed, giving him one last look as I rolled my eyes before I left the room to continue researching.

“Fuck you.”

——————————————————————

Taglist: @creative-writing92 @suckitands33 @jackles010378 @lanassmarty @aliceeinwonderland420 @tina-theslytherin @deans-queen @hell0-ki11y111 @hobby27 @lilcuutiee @sobearcowboy @girls-alias @selfdestructionandrhum @ericasabe @lacilou @littlemadamred @viridiesa @anneanirac @deans-baby-momma @swimregulas @ashdoctor @littlemarvelstan8 @atcamillanorrman @adorablenerdcat

some of the tags haven’t worked, so please check your settings!

——————————————————————

Up Next:

Chapter 4

#dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #dean x female!reader #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers #eventual smut

302 notes · View notes