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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month ago

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Follow You Anywhere 14

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: this is like to be the second last chapter...

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

The captain’s breath seeps through your swimsuit bottoms. His shoulders curl as he kneels between your feet, hunched over your pelvis like a wolf at feast. A shiver invades your body, quaking out with a sob. He growls as his nose brushes along your thigh and he bites down on the end of the tie above your hip. He tugs until the fabric slackens.

You roll your eyes back and dig your nails into the blanket. He frees the other side of your bikini and the last of your defenses collapse. Your thighs tremble as he snarls and nuzzles along your soft flesh. He bites down and you cry out, writhing as you swat his head in surprise.

He catches your hand without pulling away. He forces it back to the mattress as he reaches for the other. He pins both, crushing your fingers as he teases your skin with teeth and tongue. You wriggle as his breath grazes along your lips, the sensitivity unfurling in your core. It’s too much already.

He growls again. An animal as he swirls his face in the spiral curls around your cunt. He inhales your scent and buries his nose in you, breathing you in ravenously. His tongue makes you squeak as he dips it between your folds and swipes over your clit.

You spasm and squeal. You’re not a prude. You might be reticent when it comes to other people but you’re not a stranger to your own body. Yet, you couldn’t predict how much more intense it is when it’s someone else touching you.

He flicks his tongue again and you whine. Your toes curl and your feet arch. You push your hips down as you try to close your legs. He keeps them wide as he lowers himself to his stomach. He clutches your hands tightly as he rocks his head and hums, lapping you up as he spreads his tongue to taste all of you.

His groans flutter into you, stirring in your stomach and speckling down your thighs. You quiver and your arms tense as you try to free yourself. He’s too strong. Too powerful. You know that already but you’re terrified.

He circles your clit with his lips and sucks. You cry out in surprise at the way the pressure coils your insides. He drones in delight as you shake and squeal.

Oh, please stop. Stop! Not just him, but you. Stop feeling.

Your knees press above his chest as he keeps them trapped at his sides. He guides your hands to the back of his head and holds them there. You stretch your fingers around his skull and whimper. Your hips tilts as his tongue glides between your lips. He angles along your entrance, poking and flicking as you squirm helplessly.

He pushes his nose against you, rubbing his face in your cunt as he smears your pleasure across his skin. It sickens you despite the thrill swelling in your guts. He purrs and once more tends to your clit, teasing it as you mewl and moan.

You squeeze your eyes shut as your body cocoons with unbearable heat. You whine through your teeth as your muscles wind tight and your heart pounds wildly. You buck as you cum. He feels it and drinks it up, toying with you until your begging him to stop.

Once more he drags his nose through your juices, his beard sopping up the mess as he slowly raises himself from between your legs. Your lashes part wetly. His face shines with your bliss as shame scalds your cheeks and chest. He brings your hands up by your head and holds them there as he hovers over you, puffing and panting like a beast.

“You taste like candy,” he snarls. You shudder and pout at him. Please, it’s enough, isn’t it? He can’t want more.

You’re wrong. Always wrong. He sits back on his heels once more and pulls you up by your arms. You sit dizzily as he puts your hands on the front of his shorts. You feel him bulging beneath. You snivel and peek up at him in a silent plea.

“I bet you like how I taste, too,” he grits.

You squeak and put your head down. You can’t resist. Your hands shake and he drags your fingers up to the button of his fly. You pinch it as he squeezes then reluctantly lets go. It won’t last forever. Not this part, anyway.

You unzip him and his stomach clenches as he groans. He grabs the back of your neck and you exclaim in surprise. You struggle to pull him through the open vee of the shorts as he thick length throbs. Precum stains along the camo fabric. You grip him and stare dumbly at his swollen head. What do you do now?

You don’t need to ask as he shoves your head down. You fold over as he grunts and forces your lips against his tip. You taste saltiness as you peel your mouth open and he invades without hesitation. His patience is gone. He’s no longer teasing, he’s demanding.

He urges you down until you go rigid. You barely repress a gag as he hits your reflex. You can’t breathe. He hooks his other hand under your chin and lifts you, your spit dripping down his veiny shaft. You inhale sharply before he pushes you onto him again.

You gulp and choke as he snarls and sighs. Your mouth makes revolting noises as your saliva leaks out and stains your face. He rams you up and down, up and down, groaning and grunting as he fucks himself with your mouth. You’re horrified at how his callousness builds with each vile thrust.

Your tears overflow at last. There’s not holding back. Not for either of you. They mingle with your drool and add to the sopping mess pooling on his shorts. You convulse and hold back a retch as he lifts himself on his knees and delves as deep as he can go.

“You’re so good, sweetie. So good for The Captain,” he eases you off of him.

You heave and choke, covering your mouth as it leaks. He brings you up to sit as your hand replaces his on your ragged throat. His eyes flare as he raises himself and shoves down his shorts to his knees. He’s quick, frantic, so much so that you’re completely surprised as he pushes you so you bounce onto the mattress.

He pulls your leg apart and once more inserts himself between your thighs. He plants an elbow by your head and props himself up as he reaches between your bodies. He strokes himself as he groans, rocking so that his tip rubs up against your folds. He shakes and bites his lip.

He presses his forehead to yours and growls. He flicks his dick up and down your cunt, prodding until he finds your entrance. You whimper and bring your hands to his arms, feeling his thick biceps. Your thumb presses against a thrumming veins as his eyes are swallowed by shadows.

“Please--”

He pushes into you and you wail. He’s too big. Or you’re too small. You don’t know which. All you know is that you can’t handle it. Your nails cut into his muscle as he leans into you and sighs. He sinks further and further, stretching your walls until you feel him in your stomach. You quaver and slap his side.

“Sy--” You murmur.

“Shhhh,” he pushes his nose next to yours and nuzzles your cheek. “You feel good, sweetie. Ain’t ya bein’ good for me?”

He lays his weight into you and flattens you to the mattress. You sob and snivel as your muscles contract and loosen. Your arms fall limb beside you, your legs splay weakly, and you let your neck give out. You meld into the mattress as he starts to pump his hips.

He brings a hand up to cradle your head. You weep silently, paralysed to his hunger, as he fucks you. He leans your head to the side as he pecks along your neck, his large shoulders curling. His other hand frames your hip as his lips drag over your shoulder.

He bites into you and your cries peak in horror. His teeth torture your flesh as he ruts harder and harder. He puffs through his nose as he devolves into a spasmodic fit, thrusting deeper and deeper. He bounces you with the bed, smothering you against it as his pelvis claps against yours.

He growls as his teeth break through your skin. You squeak and squeal until all that escapes you are pathetic babbles. His sweat skin and hair stick to you, repulsing you as the friction of your bodies turns sweltering.

He pulls his hand from under your hand and puts it flat. He lifts himself, his other hand still clamped around your hips. He bucks into you with long, punctuated thrusts as he watches the motion. You peek down and let out a fraught yawl. You see him fucking you, splitting you in two without mercy. It’s even more painful to see.

You drop your head down and it lolls. Every part of you aches from his conquering. Your joints, even your knuckles, throb, and your flesh stings each time he rams into you. You blink through your tears as you search for any sliver of hope or relief. There’s nothing.

He falls onto you again. He whines and twitches as his head hangs over your shoulder. He hugs your skill with his arm and quakes through his release. You feel it flood into you as he slows, his cum leaking out with each thrust.

You stare at the wall until he stops. Not completely. He stays on top of you, inside you. He goes limp over you as he pants out his adrenaline.

Your heart races as you feel his calming. He groans and turns his head, tickling you with his nose as he relaxes. He holds you like that until the air is stagnant. The sweat between your bodies turns clammy and the trickle from your cunt grows sticky.

Your eyes cling to a shape on the table. The large handle of the knife with the finger indents. The blade gleams through your tears. You stare, not daring to move as that thought needles in you.

He groans again and snakes his arm around your middle. He hugs you as he burrows his face in your neck. You glance down at his head. Cautiously, you bring your hand up to touch the fuzz along his scalp. He sighs in content.

You pet his head, as if he’s a dog, as if you’re trying to soothe him, keep him placid. Your other arm moves, little by little. You stop and wait after each inch, wary of giving yourself away.

You shouldn’t. You’re stupid. It’s dangerous. No, this man is dangerous and he’s only going to do that again and again.

Your hand floats over the knife. You grip it, squeezing it. You lift the weight bit by bit. You raise your arm as you continue to stroke his crown. You stare at his taught flesh, ridges with muscle, and wonder if you can do it.

Do it!

You swing your arm down and the blade sinks into the meat of his shoulder. He roars and retracts as you let go of the knife. He sits up in agony as he tries to reach the handle jutting out of him.

You don’t think, you just move. You jump up from the bed and scramble for the door. His pained growls and grunts continue behind you as the bed creaks under his weight. You hit the wall and continue down the hall.

You don’t have time to stop and clear your head. Your legs are like jelly but you have to keep going. You rush to the counter and grab the flannel shirt. You hug it under your arm and barrel down the hall. You hit the front door, bursting through, and stomp across the porch.

As you get to ground, a shadow whips through the dark, and you see Aika sprinting at you on all fours. Another starling roar comes from the house and she stops just before she gets to you. You stop and face her, chest thumping, pulse throbbing. Please...

Sy hollers again. She sniffs the air in front of you then skitters up to the porch, toward the anguished cries of her owner. You don’t wait any longer. You dash off towards the trees.

This is it. Your chance. Your one moment to get away. You just have to keep going. You can’t stop. Run!

You push through the brush, the flannel tight in your hand as you pump your arms. Thorns cut into your legs and arms, sticks jab at the soles of your feet, and stones scatter around your steps. You slip in patches of mud and hiss at the sharp weeds hidden between the roots.

Go. Go. Go.

Don’t stop until you see light.

Don't stop until you’re free.

#follow you anywhere #captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #sand castle

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inbloomwriting · 14 days ago

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Everything to me - Chapter 3

Chapter three - Raspberry

Chapter 1 II Chapter 2

Plot: Jamie Tartt is a lot of things: professional footballer, the island's top scorer .... sexually, extremly handsome. But one thing he never saw himself as was a dad. Too bad he has to deal with the consequences of his own actions. This fic follows reader and Jamie as they navigate life and turn from practially strangers to parents. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Pregnancy, swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, slight mention of sexual intimacy (nothing graphic), strained/toxic parental relationship Notes: I do not have a set uploading schedule. Please bear with me as I work on this story. I know hardly anything about pregnancy, all my information comes from google. Sorry it took so long to update this. I tagged everyone who showed interest in future parts and/or asked to be tagged. Please let me know if you want to be taken off or added to the taglist. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated.

Jamie sleeps like a rock. It’s a new discovery for (Y/N) as she tries to unravel herself from his tight grip. She doesn’t remember falling asleep cuddled up to each other, in fact, she doesn’t remember falling asleep at all. It’s like one moment they were talking about the baby and the next she wakes up to the sun pouring in through the window and Jamie’s quiet snores filling the room. And his arms wrapped around her like a vice.

God that man is clingy.

And, whereas with any other man, this would scare her off, there is something about Jamie that makes the whole thing endearing.

Maybe it’s the fact that they are not dating, not even trying to. It takes some of the pressure off. All she has to be is a good mum and a good friend and while those two things are hard enough as they are, at least there are no romantic feelings involved, no expectations to uphold when it comes to being a girlfriend, a partner.

Jamie sleeps like a rock, doesn’t even so much as twitch when she slips from his grip and rests his arm back on the side of the bed she used to occupy just moments earlier. Even the squeaky floorboard doesn’t wake him as she makes her way downstairs.

A sweet smell permeates the air and makes (Y/N)’s mouth water. This heightened sense of smell is both a blessing and a curse. Mostly a curse. Most smells make her nauseous these days. Not today though, this one just makes her hungry. It smells of sugar and vanilla and all things sweet and warm.

Simon’s smiling face greets her as she rounds the corner into the kitchen. She wonders if this man ever stops smiling. He’s the personification of a ray of sunshine.

“Good morning, come have a seat. I’m making waffles.”

Waffles. (Y/N) can’t remember the last time someone made her waffles for breakfast. Dad did, sometimes when she was little, and stayed with him for the weekend. But then the waffle iron broke and he never got around to buying a new one. So pancakes and bacon it was. Beans sometimes. Sausages if he was feeling particularly fancy.

“I’d love some, thank you! It smells amazing.”

“Yeah? Oh, thank god. I was afraid the smell would be too much and make you feel sick. Only realized that after I poured in half the vial of vanilla essence though.”

The sheepish look on his face puts a smile on (Y/N)’s face. It’s nice someone cares about those little things.

“Never had to deal with anyone pregnant so I don’t know these things but I had a quick Google last night and it says 8 weeks means a heightened sense of smell. Also, the baby is the size of a Raspberry.”

If she didn’t know any better, (Y/N) would swear that Jamie and Simon must share some DNA. Both of them so clumsy in the way they care but infinitely endearing.

“Yeah, Raspberry or Blueberry or Kidney Bean. So tiny."

“Crazy isn’t it? To think it’s gonna be a proper human soon enough.”

She nods her head in agreement as Simon places a plate stacked with two thick fluffy waffles before her.

“You’re telling me. I know this is all happening inside my body and it’s still insane to think about. Doesn’t feel real.”

Simon regards her with soft eyes. There is warmth in there but something else. Something she can’t quite place. Georgie had the same look last night. Like they know more than she does. And fuck, maybe they do. They’ve done this before. Lived enough of life to know what the hell they are doing.

“Are you alright? “

(Y/N) was never big on sharing her feelings with anyone, let alone strangers. Life, and both her parents really, have taught her that talking about your feelings only makes you vulnerable. And being vulnerable usually ends in pain. So what you do is you take your insecurities, your fears, your sadness and you put it in a tiny little box and then you put on the lid. You tie a ribbon around it with a neat bow on top and then you take that box that holds your feelings and you bury it. And then you spend your whole life living like the protagonist in an Edgar Allan Poe story and that box becomes a beating heart under the floorboards of your life.

And the beating never ever stops.

“Sure. I’m good.”

She thinks he knows she’s bluffing but lets it go anyway. Opening up to Jamie is scary enough, takes up enough of her bravery. Simon is lovely and if she was another person altogether she’d love to share her worries with him, he seems like the best listener. She’s not someone else though, she is just herself and she can’t bring herself to talk.

“Okay. Just want you to know that if you need anything or — anyone. Georgie and I are always there to help. I know I’m not Jamie’s real dad but I do feel like that is my son. I don’t have children of my own and I only met Jamie when he was a pre-teen already so I don’t know much about babies but if you guys let me I am sure I can be a phenomenal grandad. My mum always used to say I was already born a little old man so this feels like I finally get a chance to be what I was always supposed to be. My time to shine has come.”

A harmony of their laughter fills the kitchen. God, is this whole family made up of the sweetest people on this entire planet? Do they make them in a damn factory or something?

“I will hold you to it. When the baby is screaming and I need some sleep I’ll come drop them off with you then.”

“Oh, I’ll be ready with some bedtime stories and lullabies.”

“You are sweet, Simon. And I really appreciate the offer. God knows Jamie and I don’t know the first thing about being parents so we can take all the help we can get.”

“Do you want to hear a secret?”

“Sure.”

“No one knows what they’re doing. As long as you try your best that’s all that matters. Kids are forgiving if they know you care.”

People always say that but there’s a little part of (Y/N) that believes those words to be untrue. Did her mum try her best and this was the outcome? Or did she just not care to do more, to be better? And which of those scenarios would be worse?

Jamie’s sleepy voice pulls her from her spiraling thoughts. “Morning, love.”

He places a soft kiss on the top of her head. So sure, so unbothered as if they do this all the time. Is this what it feels like? Being able to show your feelings and show affection without wondering what consequences it may bring? Without fearing that it makes you too vulnerable?

His hand finds her stomach and gives it a soft rub “And good morning to you, baby.”

It will never not be endearing to her to hear him talk to the baby. And neither will the way he pronounces the word ever lose its magic to her. That is his pride and joy there. His babeh.

“Aw Waffles, sweet!”

As Jamie plops down next to Simon and stuffs his face with vanilla waffles, leaving a slight dust of powdered sugar on his lips, (Y/N) is certain that all his worries are unjustified.

Jamie is all his dad and none of his father. Every inch and every fiber of him is a product of the love that Georgie and Simon have raised him with. He is them in the way he smiles and cares and the way he feels joy so freely and unabashedly.

And if only a smidge, only a sprinkle of that love is extended towards her child, that kid is gonna grow up so adored it won’t know where to put all of that love.

“Think I’m gonna throw up.”

“Like pregnancy barf or meeting mum nausea? “

Leave it to Jamie to put a smile on her face even when the world around her seems to crumble and fall.

“You gotta stop calling it that.”

“Alright, but you have to tell me which one it is so I know if I should hand you a barf bag or give you a pep talk. I’m getting awfully good at them if I dare say so myself. Learned a lot from Ted, yeah?”

If this was just the pregnancy making her nauseous everything would be so much easier. Ginger drops and rest would do the trick. But this is so much worse. This sharp feeling cursing through her veins, gnawing at her bones and devouring her like a hungry wolf. There truly is no one capable of breaking your heart like your own mother.

“Let me hear that pep talk then.”

As he navigates the car up the long driveway, flanked by big ornate mansions with brass iron fences and perfectly symmetrical hedges, Jamie regards (Y/N) from the corner of his eyes.

“Okay, well you don’t need to worry. Things are gonna be just fine. You know why?”

“Why?”

“Cause mums love me and middle-aged women love me. It’s cause they think I’m charming,” he says and glances at (Y/N) for a second. That radiant cheeky smile of his taking over his features. Oh, she hopes their kid gets his smile. “Which I am.”

“So charming, really.”

“You’d know,” Jamie replies and nods his head in the direction of her belly.

His laughter echoes through the car as she gives him a soft slap against the shoulder. There’s just something about Jamie that makes life feel a little lighter, a little more effortless. Even if it's just for a moment, just pretend. It does take the heavy weight off of (Y/N)’s heart for a second.

The car rolls to a stop in front of the gorgeous white house (Y/N) pointed out to him when they turned into the street. The lawn looks immaculate, the hedges are trimmed to perfection. This plastic palace all grand and gaudy. It never felt like home even though (Y/N) spent most of her life growing up in these very halls.

But really what is it that makes a house a home? Love and laughter and memories you want to return to. This is just four walls and a roof.

“Hey,” Jamie speaks up and places a hand gently on hers. “It’ll be alright but even if it won’t it will.”

“Huh?”

“I mean — look if she reacts badly, that sucks. But you have me, yeah? Always. Me and Rebecca and my Mum and Simon. Once we tell them I know the team will be obsessed with our baby, they’ll love her so much.”

“Or him.”

“Or him, yes. Ted is going to freak out, I know he’s going to want to hang out with our kid all the time. Roy? He’s already the best old geriatric uncle the world has ever seen. He won’t admit it but he’ll be really happy for us. Sam, Issac, Keeley, Higgins? All of them will be just a call away if we need help. I’m not sure about coach Beard though, he scares me not gonna lie.”

“I think he’s hilarious actually.”

“It’s because you’re smart and understand his jokes.”

“You’re smart too!”

“Nah, I just talk a lot and hope I end up saying the right thing. Anyway, what I mean is, this is your mum, yes, but in the big picture, she is just one person. And if she doesn’t love our baby there are so many other people who will. This baby will never, not for one second have to wonder if they are loved, because they are. So much.”

And as easy as it is for him to make (Y/N) laugh, as easy it seems to be to make her cry. Good tears though. Tears that say “I believe you that things are going to be alright”. Tears that say “thank you.”

“Jamie Tartt, of all the footballers that could’ve accidentally knocked me up, I am so glad it was you. You are going to be the best dad.”

“And you’re already the best mum. Well tied with my mum, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

(Y/N)’s childhood home feels cold, Jamie notices. There are hardly any pictures and those that are there are posed and awkward. He can tell it’s (Y/N) on those pictures but they don’t feel like her. There is no happiness in them, no joy. None of that sarcastic charm she exudes. He passes by a lifetime of being told how to sit and how to smile and what to do and probably what to say as well. It makes him feel miserable. And it puts things into perspective. It makes sense now, her worries and fears. If you grow up surrounded by nothing but the cold you eventually start wondering if you’ll ever be capable of creating warmth.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” (Y/N)'s Mum asks as she sits down at the head of the table. There’s something scary about this woman. She demands attention like a god-given right. She extends nothing in return. Her eyes are sharp and intense. It makes Jamie feel like she can see right through him down to all his insecurities and faults. She’s fucking terrifying.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

He hates the way (Y/N)’s voice has become so small and timid ever since they stepped foot into this mansion. Hates that there is nothing he can do to make it better and take this weight off of her. Nothing but be there. So he does that at least. Be there in all the ways he can be.

It’s so silly really, how his heart beats just a little faster when he touches her hand underneath the table. When she welcomes the soft gesture. When she returns his gentle squeeze. And when she links her fingers with his.

So silly. Stupid little treacherous heart.

“Well, I gathered that much. I just wish you would’ve called ahead of time so I could’ve made some food.”

“Made some food? Since when do you cook?”

The look her mother throws at (Y/N) could freeze a lake solid. It’s mean and chilling and Jamie wishes he never would’ve pushed (Y/N) to come here. Hates himself a little for putting her in this situation.

“I did attend several cooking classes last year. See, if you’d visit me a bit more often you’d know that.”

And if she wasn’t such a raging bitch, maybe (Y/N) would visit her more often, Jamie thinks. Fortunately, he’s gotten much better at impulse control lately, well ever since Ted arrived really. The old Jamie would’ve blurted out those thoughts with no care of any consequences.

The old Jamie probably wouldn’t have stepped up to be a dad though.

“Anyway, I would’ve liked a little warning. Especially if you’re bringing someone.”

Being at the receiving end of that icy glare feels awful, Jamie decides as (Y/N)’s mother regards him with a mix of disdain and humor. Her eyes sparkle with a sense of smug superiority. Jamie is used to people underestimating him. They think he’s stupid. Some dumb footballer with straw filling the places where a brain should be. Quite honestly it doesn’t bother him, never had. He’s the first to admit that he can be dumb when it comes to certain things. He’s no poet and he has never been particularly good at math. But this woman and the way she looks at him rubs him the wrong way. She knows nothing about him and yet she thinks she’s got him all figured out. Flesh and bones and all.

“Yeah uh, sorry about that. It was a spontaneous thing really. We would’ve called — “

“Sure, whatever you say. James was it?”

His name sounds like venom dripping from her lips. James. He hasn’t been James since the moment he was born and Georgie first kissed his tiny head and whispered “You’re my little Jamie.” Not that he remembers that but it’s a story his mom has recounted to him many times.

“Jamie, yes.”

“Right, Jamie.”

An uncomfortable silence settles upon the room. It crawls into the cracks and crevices of their conversation. It spreads and festers and discomfort grows around them like mold on damp walls.

“Mum, we’re here because I wanted to tell you I’m pregnant.”

The confession shoots through the silence like a bullet. Cuts through it like a knife through a flimsy ribbon. If this was a movie they’d put in a freeze frame or underlay the scene with some dramatic musical score. But this is real life and it comes with no editing and no soundtrack.

No, it just comes with a bellowing laugh from (Y/N)’s mother. It’s not the kind of laughter that makes you want to laugh along. The kind that makes you feel like sunshine has erupted inside your ribcage and wraps you in a warm blanket. It’s not like (Y/N)’s laugh. This one is mocking. It’s ridiculous. It’s meant to make you feel small and dumb. It breaks his heart to know this is the laughter (Y/N) grew up with.

“You can not be serious. Pregnant?”

A short, quiet “Yes.” leaves (Y/N)’s lips. Jamie gently squeezes her hand in return. I am here. He says. I will always be here. She squeezes back. He hopes it means “I know.”

“You stupid little girl.”

(Y/N)’s hand grabs his more tightly. A lifeline to hold on to. Crescent moon shapes stamped into his skin. But if this is the price he’ll have to pay in order to be a good partner in all of this then he’ll pay it 10 times over. Of all the things in this world, all the ways to describe her, stupid is not one Jamie would ever think of.

“Hey, don’t talk to her like that.”

Maybe a little bit of old Jamie is still there. The good parts. The protective, opinionated parts maybe. Not reckless but brave.

“She is my daughter and I will talk to her as I very well please. But you’re right. She is not a little girl, she’s a grown woman. Which makes this even worse. You should know better, (Y/N). Getting pregnant by some — some guy.”

“Some guy? Excuse me?”

“Well you’re not her boyfriend, are you? You are just some guy with no obligation to her. And if you wake up one day and realize what a massive mistake you made then you can just leave. She’ll be stuck being a mother forever.”

It boils his blood to hear those vicious words hurled at him and (Y/N). Mistake? Sure this baby wasn’t planned but they’re not a mistake. Not for one single second did Jamie think of his child as a mistake. A surprise. A shock even. But never a mistake.

“I know you don’t know me and quite honestly I don’t think I want to know you either but I can tell you one thing. That is my baby and I love it now and I will always love it. It is not a mistake. You can judge me, you can judge her and you can judge our decisions but stop talking about my child like that. That is just uncalled for. I know my word doesn’t mean anything to you but I was here from the moment (Y/N) told me she was pregnant and I will be here for the rest of my life. That is a promise.”

She has the audacity to scoff at him and completely ignore everything he just said. Instead, she moves her cold hard gaze towards (Y/N).

“What do you want me to say? Congratulations? Well, you’re not getting those here. Your father would be so — “

Before she can finish the sentence a shrill screeching sound cuts her off as (Y/N) pushes away from the dining table.

“I gotta get out of here.”

“Oh, what is this now? You’re just going to leave because you don’t get the reaction you hoped for? I can pretend if that’s what you want me to —”

“Mum, I am not running. I need to go! I am nauseous as fuck and if you don’t want me to empty my stomach onto your dining table just let me leave. I didn’t come here asking for your approval, I just thought you should know you’re going to be a grandmother. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go throw up in your bushes.”

Jamie is hot on her heels, grabbing both their jackets and (Y/N)’s bag in the process as he rushes after her. Though even in the chaos and hurry he doesn’t miss the look of absolute shock and bewilderment on the older woman’s face. It feels like a small victory but it does paint a little smile on his lips.

“Oh don’t do that. I’m disgusting.”

“I’ll be watching you push out a whole damn baby. This is nothing compared to that.”

If it weren’t such an absurd situation, that comment probably would’ve sent her spiraling but really it’s the least confusing part of today. Of course, Jamie wants to be around for the birth. Now that he mentioned it, (Y/N) thinks she shouldn’t be surprised. Of course, he’ll be there. He’s been there for it all so far of course he’ll be there when the baby enters this world.

It’s almost a little dreamy and magical to think about. Almost. Because life doesn’t let her think too much about it before it sends another wave of vomit up her esophagus.

“I don’t mind holding your hair while you puke, you're growing a whole human it’s the least I can do. But I gotta ask you something.”

“What’s that?” (Y/N) asks and wipes her mouth with the sleeve of her sweater. Desperate times, desperate measures. At least that’s how she tries to justify it to herself.

“Is that hedge purposely cut to look like a dick?”

He nods towards one of the boxwood trees at the edge of the property that (Y/N) has no doubt her mother hired a gardener to trim and shape and care for.

“Holy shit, it does.”

“And cut too. You think your mum knows?”

And suddenly the nausea is gone and forgotten about and in its place, a flurry of giggles takes over.

“Hey, are you okay?” Jamie asks once they both calm down a little.

Is she okay? Not really but this too will pass and it’s not like she expected anything else from her mother. Ever since (Y/N) was a little kid she remembers her mother dulling all her joy and whimsy. Why should things be different now?

“No. But I will be.” and when he takes her hand in his and places a soft kiss on her knuckles, for the first time since turning into this very street, she truly believes in those words.

“Good. Now do you wanna go home or do something else?”

“Home sounds good but uh — do you want to stay? Watch a movie or something? I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Another kiss to her knuckles sends her heart into a little frenzy. Teeny tiny somersaults all around her ribcage.

“Yeah, can I pick? “

“Fuck no.”

“Alright, was worth a try.”

“It was a dream? That’s it?”

The ending credits to The Wizard of Oz play on her little TV screen as (Y/N) and Jamie sit on her couch, a bowl of microwave popcorn long devoured and now empty resting between them.

“I mean, you can interpret it however you want.”

“Meh, didn’t like that one very much. Next time we should watch the Muppets treasure island. That’s a good one.”

There truly is something so sweetly endearing about Jamie’s childlike qualities. His unintentional goofiness and his ability to make even the worst day turn into an okay one. An “all in all kinda good” one.

“Okay, fine. Next time we’ll watch the Muppets. It just — my dad had the Wizard of Oz on DVD. One of the few movies he had. So whenever I’d stay with him we’d watch it together. I think I just wanted to feel close to him today.”

“Hey,” Jamie chimes up and gently nudges her shoulder with his. “I didn’t know your dad but from what you said about him he seemed like a fun guy. A good guy. So I think your mum is wrong. He’d be proud of you. I know that.”

And for the second time that day (Y/N) thanks whatever cosmic power there is for putting Jamie in her life. For making him the person who goes through all of this alongside her. For making him her partner in this crazy adventure. For making him the father of her child.

“Thanks, Jamie. I really appreciate that you stood up for me and the baby. It’s not that I didn’t want to, I just froze. Every time I talk to her I want to say so many things but they get stuck somewhere on the way from my brain to my mouth.”

“It’s okay, I get it. It’s like that with my dad too. We’ll just have to be each other’s voices then I guess.”

“That sounds like a good plan to me.”

He does it again then, that tiny insignificant kiss on the top of her head. It means nothing.

But it means everything.

“Hey uh — I’m not really tired yet. Do you wanna start that Muppets movie now?”

“Uh yeah? Absolutely. I’ll never say no to Kermit. He is THE frog.”

Just a little while later, while Kermit and Miss Piggy sing a love song on screen while hanging off a cliff, (Y/N)’s eyes fall shut, her head resting gently against Jamie’s shoulder.

For the second time in less than 24 hours (Y/N) falls asleep in Jamie’s arms. And though she might not realize it right then, she has never felt more safe and secure ever before.

Maybe things really will be alright.

“Now I know that life can take you by surprise, And sweep you off your feet. Did this happen to us, Or are we just dreaming? Love led us here.”

@captainfrisbee - @scaramou - @mischiefmanaged71 - @rexorangecouny - @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog - @tweasley20 - @dreamtrydoforkinggood - @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo - @heletsmelovehim - @snubug - @katdahlali - @oldglitterstory - @lalla-04p - @aiyaiy - @zbeez-outlet - @burnafter-reading - @britbratface - @labellapeaky - @mavisvermillion-first - @ladygrey03 - @charlesgirl16 - @cantbecreative - @nerdgirljen - @qardasngan - @confessionsofatotaldramaslut

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x f!reader #jamie tartt x female reader #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt x fem!reader #reader with established backstory #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt imagines #ted lasso tv show fanfiction #everythingtomefic

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billysjoel · 5 months ago

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TJ MIKELOGAN's HALLOWEEN 2024 EVENT

RULES:

Use the tag #USERTJ to share your creations (and so I can reblog them)

Include "TJ MIKELOGAN's HALLOWEEN 2024 EVENT" + that day's prompt in your caption

Reblog this post

THINGS TO KNOW:

This event is open to anyone who wants to participate – gifmakers, editors, etc. – and you do not have to be following me if you don’t want to! Create gifsets, graphics, moodboards, whatever you enjoy!

You can do as many or as few prompts as you want! This is supposed to be fun, so no need to put unnecessary pressure on yourself.

Interpret the prompts however you see fit; stick to them as loosely or as rigidly as you want! If you have any questions, don't hesitate to send me an ask or DM!

When I reblog your creations, I will tag them as halloween24event and I will tag mine as *halloween24

Make sure to check out the #USERTJ tag as well so you can see what everyone else is coming up with and share what they’ve created! Even if you’re not participating in the event yourself, please support creators by REBLOGGING!

PROMPTS:

DAY 1: Your go-to Halloween movie DAY 2: Colors – orange and black DAY 3: Foreign horror DAY 4: Classic horror (pre-2000s) DAY 5: Villains DAY 6: Horror parallels DAY 7: Vampires DAY 8: Costumes and makeup DAY 9: Horror movie soundtracks DAY 10: Animation DAY 11: Obscure horror DAY 12: Newer horror (2000-2010) DAY 13: Horror television DAY 14: Horror tropes DAY 15: Halloween episodes/specials DAY 16: Colors – purple and green DAY 17: POC in horror DAY 18: Spooky musicals DAY 19: Horror remakes DAY 20: Quotes DAY 21: Make it horror DAY 22: LGBT+ horror DAY 23: Modern horror (2010-2024) DAY 24: Horror sequels DAY 25: Final girls DAY 26: Colors - black & white DAY 27: Period (historical) horror DAY 28: Halloween nostalgia DAY 29: Horror film that scared you the most DAY 30: Favorite horror movie DAY 31: Wildcard – your choice

last year's event post + creations

gif frame/border can be found here by @raccoonscity

Below the cut, I’m tagging those who reblogged my original poll regarding this event and were either interested in participating or signal boosting, those who participated last year, as well as some moots who’ve expressed interest in all things Halloween and horror. Regardless of why you were tagged, please don't feel obligated!

@kizzyedgelll @scarecrowmax @vinmauro @sidprescot @showyoumyfavoriteobsession

@thepunkpanther @idlewarning @3rdboywonder @hollytanaka @rhcenyra

@mvthr @taiturner @stuckinthedeadlights @chappelroans @maybethistimemegz

@katieskrsgard @charmedslayer @marionsravenwoods @kvtnisseverdeen @usertiff

@sapphic-girls @elssbethtascioni @esmecarmona @maxinesminx @maxanor

@magicaplin @miwtual @scullys-scalpel @sculien @muldxr

@angelamcss @finnickodaiir @ianmckellen @cowboykeery @laurabenanti

@chaoticroad @muldery @kizzyedgelll @leodanbrock @anyataylorjoys

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deadboystims · 8 months ago

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˗ˏˋ꒰ 🪦 ꒱ ) deadboy’s 300 follower event !

welcome to the graveyard..

thank u all for the support & patience !! this is genuinely a fun hobby & community that i’m glad to be apart of,, i wanted to celebrate this support & the stimblr community as a whole for my 300, so i’m deciding to do an event !! yahoo !!

use the tag “#deadboy300” ! i want to see everyone’s creations ! i’ll likely reblog every (sourced/credited) board that i’m tagged in !!

now lets get onto the prompts,, i’m providing 2 options, mostly just in case ! do whichever one you want :)

DAY 001 : make a stimboard based off of your queer identities !

OR : make a stimboard based off of one of the general pride flags (progress pride, gilbert pride flag, rainbow pride flag, etc)

DAY 002 : make a stimboard based off your favorite song / album

OR : make a stimboard based off of your favorite musical artist / genre

DAY 003 : support each other ! make a stimboard based off of your favorite stimboard/stim gif creator ! or, use their original gifs !

OR : make a stimboard based off a friend, qpr, or partner ( they don’t have to be on tumblr )

DAY 004 : make a stimboard based off of your favorite spooky/halloween/horror movie !

OR : if u don’t like horror/halloween, make a stimboard based off of your favorite movie/show/book

DAY 005 : make a stimboard using your favorite kinds of stim gifs (ex : dice , slime , etc )

OR : make a stimboard based off your favorite fruit !

DAY 006 : make a stimboard based off your favorite aesthetic !

OR : spin a wheel(link) and make a stimboard based off of what you get! re-rolls allowed :)

DAY 007 : catch up day / free space ! do whatever you want !

OR : make a stimboard based off of yourself ( or your system, if so desired ) !

DAY 008 : make a stimboard based off of your favorite color combo !

OR : make a stimboard based off of your favorite color

DAY 009 : make a stimboard based off of your favorite ship !

OR : make a stimboard based off of your favorite duo / group

DAY 010 : make a stimboard based off of your favorite animal !

OR : make a stimboard based off of your favorite plant !

DAY 011 : make a stimboard based off of space !

OR : make a stimboard based off of the ocean !!

DAY 012 : make a stimboard off of your favorite season !

OR : make a stimboard based off of your favorite holiday !

DAY 013 : make a stimboard based off a character you kin !

OR : make a stimboard based off of a character you relate to

DAY 014 : make a stimboard based off of your favorite fashion style !

OR : spin a wheel(link) and make a stimboard based off of what you get ! re-rolls allowed :)

DAY 015 : make a stimboard based off of your favorite villain !

OR : make a stimboard based off of your favorite hero !

and.. thats all the prompts !

thank you all to those who decide to participate in this ! i know some of the prompts are fairly basic but i hope they’re fun regardless !! i did my best to be inclusive nd all. also, feel free to apply these to moodboards or anything else! tho i’ll primarily be reblogging stimboards :)

no pressure tags, feel free to ignore this and/or not participate - please let me know if you wanna be removed !!

@demolding @kurt-stims @sprinkles-stims @gaystims @talos-stims @garfieldstim @heartnosekid @stimboardboy @starstruckstufful @squishsquishy @clwnstim @nanmo-wakaran @sweet-stims @sponge-stims @sigmxnd @bloomics

#deadboy300 #follower event #stimblr #stimboard #prompts #important

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rubyvhs · 1 month ago

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OUR CELEBRATION — FIVE HUNDRED PLUS

i am so completely blown away and thankful you guys enjoy my writing and for ever making this account because of how incredibly nice everyone is! mutuals especially, i’m honestly so surprised i talk to this many people i would have guessed i’d just write a little and keep to myself but honestly the nicest people ever on this site/in this fandom. thank you so so much for making this experience incredible for me— so this is me giving back

There’s so many amazing authors who deserve the absolute world for the effort they put in their fics that we get to read. For my celebration, here’s a little challenge to all the SPN authors (or those who want to start writing SPN) out there. i saw someone do something similar, so, all you need to do is:

— send an ask with one of these playlists and a number from 1-40:

Rock, 90s, dance/electronic, indie, upbeat, R&B, 2000s, Hip Hop, Country, Romantic, Pop, Rap. If you’re feeling indecisive choose my ‘On Repeat’ playlist and a number. (I do listen to Arabic music so if that’s something you can’t write with, send in 2 numbers incase the first one is Arabic).

Sample

.・゜-: ✧ :-

GUIDELINES (please read before sending asks) :

— you must be off anon and must be 18+ to write NSFW. — this event is supernatural exclusive but you can do crossovers or SPN RPF. — if you don’t like your song we can change it, no problem. but i want this to be a challenge so try your best! (but of course still no pressure) — it can be character x character or x oc or x reader — tag @rubyvhs in your post and use #laila’s 500 celebration — one song per person (but if you finish it and want another one of course that’s welcome)! — I’ll reblog all the amazing works and make a masterlist by the deadline. —deadline for sending an ask: Feb 1st, 2025. — deadline for all fics is March 1st, 2025 (if you can’t get to it in time, no problem, just let me know please). — not a guideline but I’ll write just one myself (using a number generator for ‘on repeat’ as a starter<3) — all i ask of you, as a reader and anyone who follows me, is to please interact with the fics, whether these ones or any ones that pop up on your dashboard that you enjoyed, it’ll mean a damn lot to the author is you leave a comment or reblog with how much you liked it.

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arcane-vagabond · 1 year ago

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Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Three and a Half

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you.

Trigger Warnings: Mermaids and fluff with a hint of angst.

Word Count: 1,509

A/N: I've decided to count this as it's own little mini-chapter because it's too long to be a blurb lol So we're going to call it Chapter Three and a Half! If you're feeling kind/generous, please consider buying me a ko-fi! Also, if you DO NOT fill out the form below (Tag List) then you will not be tagged! I will be referring to that Google form from now on! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! Asks/requests are always open! 18+ ONLY!! You can find me on AO3 under arcane_vagabond where I also post my updates!

Series Masterlist

The water was cool against Jake’s skin, the pleasant stillness of the ocean wrapping around him as he scoured the floor for the perfect items. A woven bag hung off his shoulder, floating up and away from his body as he moved through the water. The smaller fish darted away from him as he passed, the bigger ones eyeing him suspiciously. Jake paid them no mind, too focused on the task at hand.

He had already pried open several oysters to dig out the pearls that currently sat in his satchel, and he had even found a perfect conch that he was saving for a later time. He didn’t want to start off too showy in case you would find that distasteful. Besides, the thought of actually being able to hand you the conch shell put a smile on his face. No, for now he would settle for the pearls combined with the calico and whelk shells. He just hoped that he wasn’t veering too far in the opposite direction that he came off as not caring. Because he did. He cared a lot about what you thought.

Impressing and talking to girls had always come easy to Jake, but that was probably because he knew that he would more than likely end up with Mandy. Mandy wasn’t a horrible choice, quite the opposite in fact, but Jake always felt like there was something out there waiting for him. Now he knew why. Now he had another option. Now…now he felt the pressure most everyone else felt when it came to a significant other. He wanted things to be perfect for you, and now that he thought back to the shells in his satchel, he frowned.

He had gotten Mandy some shells once, back when they had first presented. He had wanted to make an effort for her, so sixteen year old Jake Seresin had spend hours at the bottom of the ocean floor picking out what he thought were the perfect gifts for his supposed betrothed.

But when he had handed them to Mandy, a proud smile on his face, she had laughed at him.

“Jake, be serious,” she had giggled, eyeing the shells in her hands. Jake’s smile had dropped, staring at her. “I’m not interested in stupid, old customs like this. If you’re going to get me something, get me something that matters.”

Jake had laughed it off at the time, but the sting of those words still hung over his head, and he paused on top of some coral as he thought about what it was he was doing.

What if you also thought the shells and pearls were stupid? What if you didn’t like them? What if you just threw them back into the sea?

What if you laughed at them?

Jake wasn’t sure he could take that kind of rejection from you. He was sure it would destroy him, in fact.

But then he thought back to how shyly you had looked at him when he had introduced himself to you, and he knew that you would never do that. Not to his face, anyway.

So he made his way towards the surface, looking for the shadow of the Floyd’s boat. He knew that’s where you’d be after the little confrontation with his friends earlier, and his temper flared at the thought of Bradley’s words.

“Figure your shit out with Mandy. If you don’t, then Skipper is fair game.”

He wasn’t sure how much his friend had meant those words. True mates were sacred, after all, but Bradley was as stubborn as they came. So Jake wasn’t too keen on taking any chances.

He spotted the silhouette of the boat rocking with the waves, and he quickly made his way towards it. He popped his head above the water, making sure to stay out of sight from the three people on board. Peering over the ledge at the back of the boat, he saw Walter and Bob engrossed in their fishing, and his eyes drifted down to where you lay on the wood of the deck, arms crossed beneath your head and one leg bent while the other stretched out. Jake stared at you, like he was under some kind of trance. You were beautiful, he knew that of course, but every time he saw you, it hit him just as hard as it did the first time. He hoped that a day never came where the breath wasn’t knocked out of him at the sight of you.

He took in the mark on your neck - his mark. It glimmered in the fading sunlight, a notice to all those that looked upon it that you were spoken for and that anyone who tried otherwise would have to deal with him. He could smell how your scent had changed since he placed it there. It was still sweet, a pleasant mix of sunshine and something floral, but now there was a hint of him added to it that gave it a certain spiceness. Jake practically purred at the thought of that change being permanent.

Your chest rose and fell softly as you basked in the summer sun, the beams beginning to lessen as it sank towards the horizon. You let out a contented hum in your sleep, mouth twitching up into a short-lived smile before evening out again. God, he wanted to hold you.

Jake smiled softly as you stirred from your nap, curling your other leg up as you stretched your arms out. He smiled softly at the way your own lips curled into a lazy smile, arching your back as you sat up. Ducking when you moved to stand, he could hear the sound of your conversations with Bob and Walter.

He knew he should be getting back to shore. He had made plans to meet with Mandy, to tell her that the future she had envisioned for the two of them would now only include her. He dreaded her reaction.

Jake heard footsteps approach the ledge, and he quickly moved around to the side of the boat, peeking around the corner as he saw you come into view. He watched as you stopped, spotting the gifts he had left for you, crouching down to get a better look. A smile twitched on his lips as he saw a spark of excitement alight in your eyes.

“Bob, come look at this!” You hollered over your shoulder, never taking your eyes off the shells you held in your hands. Jake felt a tinge of annoyance when you called for another man to come see the gifts that he had brought for you, and it only deepened as he watched the other man crouch down beside you. You held the shells out to Bob, and Jake almost saw red, but stopped at your next words.

“Aren’t these amazing?”

Pride swelled within him as he took in your excitement. It had been him. Him and no one else that had made you so happy. His cheeks started to ache from how hard he was smiling.

“These are some of the best specimens I’ve ever seen! And look at all of these pearls!”

Jake had taken a gamble at starting off with the less impressive finds, and his fingers itched at the prospect of seeing your reaction to the grander gifts he had already collected.

You stretched your hand out to show Bob the pearls you held in your hand, and the bespectacled man peered down at them with a frown.

“These are beautiful, aren’t they?” You all but whispered, staring at the orbs with a twinkle in your eye, a smile dancing on your lips.

Jake ducked under the surface, knowing that if he didn’t leave then, that he would risk exposing himself. He would when the time was right, but Jake knew that he was in a precarious situation.

You weren’t from North Island, and you had no idea that creatures like him even existed. The shock would be too much right now. No, he and the others would have to ease you into the idea of it all first, or risk scaring you off. He couldn’t bank on the bond keeping you there with him if he revealed the truth to you now, and the thought of you rejecting him? Seeing him as a monster? No, he couldn’t afford to think about that.

Instead, he thought about how you smiled at his gifts, cradling them so gently in your small hands. Yeah, his cheeks were definitely aching with how hard he was smiling. A song burst from his lips, echoing far and wide, one he was sure would be heard by almost everyone. He didn’t care, though. He didn’t care that he was about to go and endure Mandy’s wrath. He didn’t care that you hadn’t fully accepted him yet. He didn’t care about any of it. For the first time in a long time, Jake felt true happiness.

He wanted to hold onto the feeling for the rest of his life.

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aesethewitch · 7 months ago

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#OcculTea Masterpost

Earlier this year, witches took to social media (mostly YouTube and Instagram, from what I can see) to talk about witchcraft in the social media landscape: community, influencers, grifting, impact, imposter syndrome, and more. They did this as part of the hashtag “#OcculTea” in a call to the community of internet creators to come forward and talk about their experiences. The tag was started by Ella Harrison, the Red Headed Witch, and the Polish Folk Witch to generate really important conversations across various social media sites.

The Polish Folk Witch actually created a playlist full of videos from witchcraft creators, which you can take a look at here if you’d like to watch a few.

I’ve spent quite a bit of time watching videos from various creators with their responses, and it got me thinking about how I’d answer those same questions. Our formats are different, and our internet niches are different, so our perspectives on the same topics are obviously different. So, here we are: I’m bringing #OcculTea to Tumblr! (I’m not the first; a handful of others have answered the same questions in the #OcculTea tag, and you should check them out!)

If you want to take part in this tag, please do! I’m not directly tagging anyone, so there’s no pressure. The list of questions can be found here. If you make a post, tag it as #OcculTea! I’m following the tag, and I want to see everyone’s responses. (:

Now, without further ado, here is the list of post links, organized by category:

Introduction & Topic 1: Impact on Community

Topic 2: Influencer Authenticity

Topic 3: Imposter Syndrome and FOMO

Topic 4: Capitalizing Off Community

Conclusions

This was fun to put together! I won’t directly tag anyone to respond with their own answers, because… well, this has been a beast of a project that’s taken several days to type out and more to edit. But if you’re a witchy content creator here on Tumblr, please feel free to check out the list of questions and post your own answers!

Replies, reblogs, and asks on any or all of the topics covered in this post series are very much welcome.

(And if you did enjoy this series or my other work, consider tipping me over on Ko-Fi! Thanks!)

#aese speaks #OcculTea #witch community #witchcraft #social media #masterpost #witchblr

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beartitled · 10 months ago

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Can you do some more comics with Francis mosses

I can, but the problem is

That I’m pretty much out of ideas and I’m progressively getting tired of tnmn fandom

Ppl who look at my tags probably noticed that 😓

More of my thoughts under read more for curious ppl

(short answer maybe I will do more, but I desperately need a break from tnmn)

! Just a general warning: this came out kinda long + sort of venty

Originally I planned to do 1 comic drop and move on, but got stuck bc ppl liked tnmn comics and kept asking for more (and still do-)

Generally I don’t mind doing more if the ideas are there, but I want to address this: I’m tired

I know blowing up is usually a good thing and I appreciate people enjoying my stuff

But it’s exhausting to see that tnmn is the only type of content which is relevant, to the point that my own projects or stuff I enjoy are just kinda.. ignored

It’s fair – again my blog is heavily fandom based

(+Tsp were and still is kinda the focus)

But with tnmn fandom it’s a bit… different

Maybe I’m biased and it’s just my negative experience with tiktok comments

Remember this art?

cleaning up transphobic comments was.. um tough

Again, I get that you can’t be in that neat bubble completely sheltered from negativity

Humans are just assholes by nature really/j

So I was expecting the backlash, but not that much

I think maybe tsp fandom spoiled me a bit (in a good way), bc I got a feeling that everyone in tsp was positive of any lgbt+ headcanons and just generally more supportive

(don’t get me wrong, there ARE problems in tsp community too, taking narrators design controversy into account as one of the examples)

Obviously every fandom always has it’s own issues, show me at least one fandom that didn’t have some sort of meaningless controversy or some sort of problematic people in it

It happens

But it leaves a bad taste in your mouth sometimes

And for me personally it only added to not so pleasant experience

The thing I also noticed, when I interacted with other fandoms

Ppl wrote positive stuff first and foremost, not really asking for anything

Here it’s just “hey more. I want more. Do more. Do this character. Do this. Do more.”

The only reason I kept doing more, because likes, reblogs, views – these comics get a ton of attention

there is a audience to please alright

But this thing comes with a pressure tho

and it shows

so let me illustrate

This bookcase

Is my shame

Because I was so rushing, I just copied and colour corrected this bookcase from my diploma comic and pasted it here in hopes for the best

💥IT LOOKS HORRIBLE OKAY💥

Usually it’s normal to take materials used in other projects

the not so normal part is

to leave it like that because your stress reducing tea doesn’t work and you don’t really have time to redraw it

my m en ta l s t a t e i s f i n e ah ah h ah ah

Ok but jokes aside: it’s really tempting, to just abandon everything and produce content like some sort of content farm

But I don’t want to, I’m forcing myself and it makes my art worse

Yes it’s subtle, new people won’t even see this

But I’m not improving

And I don’t enjoy just anxiously popping out comics because everyone keeps asking

I can give it my all to something when I’m passionate, but just “hey I’m getting attention” is not the best motivator

Attention like that does get to my head, I know that I will probably give in again and do more, bc I will compare my posts engagement

But what’s the point of recognition, when you feel.. so numb about it…

Sorry for a mountain of text and thank you for ppl who actually took their time to read it

It’s been building up for a while and I feel like people need to know the reason why I’m not so enthusiastic about making “more”

I’m not necessarily completely abandoning this fandom

I still plan to do ask/suggestions event for STP (I’m just making sure I can dedicate my time to it, that’s why it’s taking so long) and I can add tnmn to the mix

Like STP+tnmn kind of deal

But for now – I need a break

At least for a little bit

#bear answers #vent post #nothing serious just a bunch not so positive thoughts #tnmn #that’s not my neighbor #tnmn fandom #thoughts #fandom thoughts #apologies for possible mistakes/typos

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castleficpromoter · 3 months ago

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CastleFicPromoter’s Castle Ficathon Winter 2024

Hello and welcome!

This post is to announce a fun way that the Castle fandom and its talented fan fiction writers can generate some awesome stories over the winter holiday season of 2024/2025, keeping our shared love for Caskett alive.

Participating stories should be posted on Fanfiction.net or Archive Of Our Own (but please, let me know if you are only posting on AO3, as I don’t have a way to get notifications if you do). Stories posted on FFnet will be included in the “favorites” list on the CastleFicPromoter FFnet account. Links will also be tweeted through our twitter account and blogged/reblogged on tumblr.

Rules: Since the holidays are a busy time, the word goal will be set to 30,000 words to achieve the Ficathon. To achieve the Mini-Ficathon you’ll need to break 15,000 words. To achieve the Maxi-Ficathon, aim for a word count of 50,000 words. For the really adventurous, Ultra-Ficathon word count is set at 75,000 words.

Word Count Goals:

Mini-Ficathon – 15,000 words Ficathon – 30,000 words Maxi-Ficathon – 50,000 words Ultra-Ficathon - 75,000 words

Submissions will be accepted starting Sunday, November 17, 2024 (Kate Beckett’s birthday) and ending at midnight (US Pacific) on Sunday, March 2, 2025. You can start writing at any time, but only fanfics posted within the time frame will be accepted as part of the Winter Ficathon. Before then, plot and plan away.

Anyone can join, experienced and new fan fiction writers alike. The main point is to have fun!

Stories are to be posted on your own FFnet account/AO3 account, but should have “Castle Ficathon Winter 2024” somewhere in the summary, so that readers can know that the story is a participant. Also, if you post a link to the story on Twitter/X, make sure you tag @CFPromoter in your post, so I’m aware you’ve started posting and I’ll generate a promo tweet for it.

I’ll be using the hashtag “CastleFicathonWinter2024” on Twitter/X when I do promo tweets. Also on tumblr, please use the tag “CastleFicathonWinter2024” for ease of reblogging. I’ll also be using the hashtag “CFW2024” on tumblr and Twitter/X.

Need help coming up with story ideas? Feel free to check out the prompt list on our tumblr page, or the many prompts to be found on the Castle Fanfic Prompts tumblr.

Every participant will receive an individualized digital badge of participation at the end of the challenge. Participants will also receive an additional badge for the word count level achieved at the end of Ficathon. Those who reach or break 50k will also receive a personalized wallpaper based off the Castle Ficathon Winter 2024 key art.

Don’t stress if you have trouble with updating regularly, the main point is to have fun, so… no pressure.

Questions? Concerns? Contact me! Message me on tumblr, PM me on FFN, or tweet me. Have fun everyone, and happy writing! - Travis (aka @lordofkavaka)

#castle #castle fanfiction #castle ficathon #castleficathonwinter2024 #castleficpromoter #CFPromoter #fanfiction #fanfiction challenge #winter ficathon #CFW2024 #PSA

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jagibee · 2 years ago

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Call Me Luna Info

Hello dear readers, Mari speaking!

I just wanted to lay down some basic info about my story so that things are clear

- This story will probably not include super explicit smut unless or until I become more comfortable writing it, but due to heavy discussion of sex and suggestive scenes, this is an 18+ work, so it please respect that and MDNI

- The reader has an AFAB body and uses she/her pronouns and I think at some point I will have her wear skirts/dresses, and I decided to divide SKZ in half in regards to how old everyone is compared to the reader for the purpose of honorifics, but I looped Hyunjin in with the younger half since they were born in the same year. I also might have a background for character motivation purposes, so just oc family members and their secondary genders. Other than that, I try to keep it pretty neutral including race, religion, etc. Unfortunately I am limited to my own experiences, so if you feel like I’m not keeping it neutral or I am portraying something incorrectly or problematically, feel free to say something!

- I have ADHD and will deadass forget this story exists unless I have people interacting with me, so please do!

- My chapters will probably be over 1,000 words but I’m really inconsistent other than that so good luck

- This isn’t meant to be an exact biography of Stray Kids obviously so I’m not putting pressure on them or forcing them to be together or anything, also they have less managers and choreographers and sound people just because I don’t really feel like including all of that

- I’ll update when I want

- This is my story, so if you don’t like it, you can just leave without reading anymore!

- This story will deal with physical, verbal, and psychological abuse, as well as slight substance abuse, eating disorders, and mental health issues so please don’t read this if any of these affect you negatively

- Again, I can only go off of my experience so the way the characters in this story deal with things is not meant to be the “correct way” and it may not be relatable to everyone

- If you guys have any theories or ideas for what will happen next, let me know! It’s fun to see how people interpret writing (and maybe I’ll get my next plot point idea😁)

- I really don’t know what direction this will take so I’ll be adding trigger warnings as needed for individual chapters, and if there’s something that I haven’t tagged properly, please tell me! I want everyone to have a good experience with this story

- This story will have cursing, that’s just the way I think and write (and I think we all know the kids curse off camera)

- When any character uses English, I’ll show it like “‘“this”’”

- I’m shit at titles so….. we’re doing chapter numbers, but I might add chapter names later

- Tag list is open! You can send in an ask or message me if you want in! My tumblr is a bit fucked up so I can’t really respond to replies, but I always add you even if I don’t answer

- However, being on my taglist and being able to read my work is ultimately up to me, so if you do or say something that I dislike, I have no problem with blocking you

- I am fine with comments like “can’t wait for the next chapter!” but if it’s something more like “when’s the next part😡” consider it an automatic block, sorry not sorry!

- Liking and reblogging are always appreciated!

- Really, just have fun, stay positive, and (hopefully) enjoy the ride!

Info Regarding ABO

- omegas have heats three times a year for 7-10 days

- alphas have ruts twice a year for 3-6 days

- betas have slips once a year for 4-5 days

- heats include abdomen cramping, change of the omega’s scent, a need to nest, slick, and horniness for most

- heat suppressants are common, they don’t completely take away everything, there is still usually mild cramping, change of the omega’s scent and a need to nest, though they are pretty moderate

- ruts include a stronger scent of the alpha, possessiveness, need to mark their partner or partners, aggression, headaches, and horniness for most

- rut suppressants aren’t nearly as common as heat suppressants but they can tone down a rut to only include headaches, slightly stronger scent, and a bit of aggression

- slips include betas getting a stronger sense of smell and touch and they become very sensitive both physically and emotionally

- slip suppressants are very rare and only tone down a slip by about 20% while making the beta emotionally numb so many don’t like taking suppressants even when they have access

- there are no specific alpha scents or beta scents or omega scents, but in this universe, people can still identify someone’s secondary gender based on their scent

- scent glands are on the wrists and neck but if you put blockers on the neck, the body automatically stops releasing scents from the wrist gland

- scent blockers also lessen the wearer’s sense of smell

- wrist to wrist scentings are for acquaintances, neck to wrists are for good friends, and neck to necks are basically the equivalent of saying “I want you in my life forever” which can be platonic, familial, or romantic

And now onto the masterlist!

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bearratic · 3 months ago

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Get to know the mun ! repost, don’t reblog.

——— BASICS.

NICK[NAME] : Benjamin. [Benji/Bear.]

PRONOUNS : He/Him.

ZODIAC SIGN : Aquarius - Feb 7th.

TAKEN OR SINGLE : Single.

ANYTHING ELSE? : Real fuckn dutch. Made of stroopwafels.

——— THREE SERIOUS FACTS.

Writing gives me the time and space to gather my thoughts. I use it as a practice in conveying emotion, which makes it easier to do so and thoroughly explain reasoning. I use writing as a base for learning human psyche, soul, mind and spirit which interests me deeply. I try digging deeper into feelings and actions - reasons why some are done and linking them together.

I pick muses based on some hint of personality trait I see of myself in them. I find myself often asking what I want so having muses that at least correlate to my thoughts are a better fit for me than just a choice at random. It can be big as the way they think or it can be as small as sharing a favorite drink. Exploring their interests based on their world and adding on to it makes it way more enjoyable for me to write, story and world building is important to me.

I fucking love everyone I have ever written and will ever write with. This has been nothing but a warm and loving experience for me.

——— THREE RANDOM FACTS.

My nickname is thanks to my father, who even though he named me one thing, found it often too long and switched it to another lol.

I go to at least 3 concerts every month. Mostly rock in genre if I get to chose but I never say no when friends ask. I will always be your +1 to any event.

If I had to pick a country to move to it would be Scotland, sorry but I have a light obsession with that place.

——— EXPERIENCE.

Zero dude. Literally none. I just picked it up as a hobby and passed my blogs one year birthday last august. I have been truly active in the writing community for only half a year in total.

I go with the flow, I enjoy coming up with things on the spot. Diseccting my muses and throwing them into any type of situation just to write myself out of it. Or-... make it worse for them. Keep it interesting you know?

I write through and together with music, I let it guide me often. This is kind of the reason I am a slow replier, I have to really feel what I want to put down and then I can stick to it. Besides that, English is not my first language so I have to switch back and forth in my brain real often. It can be a bit tiring but I gladly do it for my writing partners. Much love.

——— MUSE PREFERENCE.

Give me anything with a background we can explore and me and my muses are in. I thoroughly enjoy talking to you about your muses and mine, from their favorite pairs of socks to their family drama, idc I want to know.

I need a lot of building together, plotting and anything to truly write my muse closer to yours if you want anything deeper. I build through writing together. From something silly to movie scripts. Let them get to know each other to their deepest point.

——— FLUFF / ANGST / SMUT.

FLUFF : Yeah definitely, I’m a sappy dude. I like to daydream.

ANGST : Also yeah! I enjoy making problems for my muses, it makes me understand them more. Dread is and can be intense so be sure to be in the right headspace and let me know.

SMUT : Sure, though with my lack of writing experience bear with me on this one. I really have to know how you write and your muse for this to work, I do not wish to overstep boundaries either yours, your muses or my own. Which I am unable to know if we do not at least have a talk about it.

——— PLOT / MEMES : Thanks to you I know how much I enjoy plotting. I know I'm rather slow with DM replies but please don't take it personally I am just truly busy and can only do one thing atta time. Memes! Starters! Send me them all day everyday, I might not get to them immediately but I will and I will love it.

TAGGED BY : @sanctissimx I adore. Thank Yououou.

TAGGING : Cool ppl but no pressure. @cherriedrage @penandswords @patronsxints @carminewill @heterochromatica @ofcursedenergy @modeinthemiddle @huntershowl & You.

#Its not monday #idc #Bear has his own planning #I want to tag everyone #🤍🖤🕺

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 months ago

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Winter's King 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: yo, work is driving me nuts.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Lady Jazlene, a queen by marriage, cries herself to sleep. You stay until she snores and snuff the candle as you leave her on her stomach atop the stuffed mattress. You emerge between the guards and wonder if they keep people out or keep her in.

They don’t react to you. No one really does. A shadow approaches. The thickset man grunts at you as the moonlight shines off his dark mail. Bryce waits patiently as you near him. He turns and walks beside you in silence.

Much of the camp is asleep. The only fires that remain are those of the soldiers on watch for marauders and bandits. Your soles kick loose pebbles and trample flattened grass further. You yawn as you reach the luggage carts and find the one you rode in. The grey horse is tie to the axle, dozing on its feet with puffing nostrils.

“The road will not get any less turbulent,” Bryce warns as he grabs his bedroll from across his mount’s rump. “You will need sleep, maid.”

“Thank you, sir,” you lift the canvas draped over the back of the wagon.

He grumbles and unfurls his roll across the dirt. You climb up and nestle down beneath the cover, pressed against a chest as you curl up. You hear the soldier lay down with a groan, “...too sweet...”

You close your eyes and rest your head on a bent arm. The darkness quickly swallows you up into slumber and the day fades into obscurity. You’re not conscious long enough to dread the one ahead.

As the sun rises, heat gathers in the cart. You wake in a damp sweat, nearly suffocating as you gulp up cool air. You slip down onto your feet and grab onto the cart to keep from stumbling. Bryce grunts as your soles crunch on the ground.

“Eh, where’re you off to?” He sneers.

You look down at him. His eyes are still closed as his grey steed sniffs at the dirt close to him.

“Sir, I... I haven’t... relieved myself since... erm, well...”

“Go on, but not too far,” he opens his eyes and sits up. “Holler if you meet trouble.”

The horse huffs into his steely hair and he pets its nose. He grabs onto its reins and hauls himself up. You quickly spin and flit away. You go off into the brush where its thick and squat down, your skirts gathered above your knees. You miss the springs behind the castle where you would bathe with the other maids, you could use a wash now.

You finish up and peer over the stretch of bodies, horses, and carts. You set off back toward the cart and as you come in sight of Bryce, he unties a dented kettle from his saddles. You feel much better without the pressure beneath your guts.

“I could fetch water,” you offer.

He looks over his shoulder. You think you surprised him.

“Quiet mouse,” he mutters and faces you, gripping the bent handle, “I can manage a potful of water.”

“Yes, sir, I only was being helpful.”

“You stay, take Daisy to find some fresh grass,” he points to the horse.

“Daisy?” You look at the beast, “is that her name?”

He shrugs and stalks off. You go to the reins and loose them. You glance around and lead her over to an unyellowed swath of grass. She dips her long neck and grazes, tearing the strands noisily as her teeth clack. You pet her ear as she comes rather close to the hem of your skirt.

Heavy steps tramp up behind you. You don’t bother looking as you assume it’s Bryce. Those who are stirring are barely able to lift themselves out of their rolls. The lazy rise of dawn does not inspire fastidiousness as the clouds haze amber and rose.

“Fine horse,” the king’s timbre rumbles over you.

You turn and bow your head, “your highness.”

He inhales through his nose before he speaks again, “are you a fast rider?”

“I’ve never... I don’t ride, your highness,” you reply, staring at his black mail, just at the center of his chest. “It isn’t my horse.”

“I know it, I thought perhaps...” he begins and shifts his weight in his boots, “you might’ve secreted away the mare. That you would be sick for your home.”

“Your highness? No, I wouldn’t--” You put your hand to your apron, “I am not a thief.”

He pauses and his thick fingers toy with his belt, fiddling with a leather purse, “that isn’t what I...” he blows out in exasperation, “I do not think you dishonest. In fact, you are the most honest creature I’ve met around here.”

You keep your eyes down, “I only mean to feed the horse.”

“Yes, I believe you,” he assures, his tone glum, “forgive my inference. Truly, it wasn’t intended as such.”

“I understand, your highness,” you say.

“It was a jape, a poor one, I suppose,” he hooks his thumb in his belt and turns to pace. “I wanted to thank you. I have yet to figure out how to handle Lady Jazlene but you keeping her company, I do appreciate it.” He stops and crosses his arms as he faces you again, “last night, what you heard and saw... we are strangers still, her and I.”

“I am a maid, your highness, I serve the lady and you now,” you reply, “that’s all I do.”

His arms bulge before he drops them, “yes, I suppose for you, the matters of nobility are dull.”

“It is not of my concern, your highness,” you say, “I am to see that all the wine and food and little things are taken care of.”

You peer up at the sky as the dimness slowly recedes. His figure looms below and he slowly treads closer. You squeeze the reins.

“You serve the queen, the king, and... a horse,” he reaches to touch its snout, dragging his knuckles along its grey fur. “Make certain we are fed and content.”

“Whatever is needed, your highness,” you answer and watch his hand stroke the horse.

“And what do you need?” He asks.

You quork your head and stick out your lip. It's an odd question. You have what you need. You have a place in the cart, you have some nuts left over from Bryce’s generosity, and you have some hours sleep behind you.

“Nothing, I think,” you say.

He scratches behind the horse’s ear, “and what do you want?”

You purse your lips. You think. Another strange inquiry. What should you want? That’s not something anyone ever worried for. You only troubled after what others wanted.

“I... I want to see the snow,” you say at last, “I think I dreamt of it but I can’t remember. I don’t really know what it would look like but I remember once Merinda spoke of it. She knew a stable hand who once lived in the north.”

He’s quiet. Your answer isn’t very interesting. To him, the snows must be so tedious. Nothing more than ordinary. He makes a clicking noise.

“I want to see the snow too,” he pulls his hand away from the horse and for a moment, he seems to reach for you, recoiling short of touching your grasp on the reins. He withdraws and presses his thumb to his teeth. He hums. “We have far to go before the snow...” he rasps, “should you require anything for the road ahead, you may ask.”

“That is kind, your highness, but I don’t expect I require much,” you assure, “thank you.”

“Mmm,” he drones as he faces the sunrise and sets his posture, “onward.”

He marches away as you stay and watch Daisy munch on the grass. You comb your fingers through her main, loosening the tangles. When another approaches, you glance over. Bryce tidies his own hair with his hands.

“Water is boiling, maid,” he declares, “I have some spare mint leaf for tea.”

“Yes, sir, thank you,” you smile down at Daisy and move out of reach of her teeth. “I will stay with the horse until she is done.”

“Hm, aye, I understand,” his forehead lines, “she is much more pleasant than I.”

He nods and turns back the way he came. You watch after him as he goes to sit before the hanging kettle, a low flame burning beneath it. He rolls his shoulders and hunches forward as he plants his elbows on his knees. These people of the Hinterlands are not so cold as they pretend.

⚔️

The long train continues through the lands. Some days slower than others. There are some where progress stops at midday in favour of passing through a village or approaching a nearby farm. The king departs from the larger party, riding with his soldiers to greet the commonfolk. Lady Jazlene refuses to accompany her husband in favour of her silk tent and wine.

The pauses in your trek makes you curious; you only ever heard of King Waleran showing his face to the citizens during the harvest festivals and self-aggrandizing ceremonies. You never saw the king yourself, only heard Lord Dustan and his wife resentfully complain of how the king never made the journey to Debray. Did he not recall that once a duchess was married to his great-uncle?

You spend the hours in Jazlene’s company. She wants her wine and mutton. You notice that her appetite for the former has grown since the first day’s travel. She even requested that some casks be sought during one of the king’s visits. He acted as if he did not hear her entreaty. Their few encounters since that first night have been terse and short, neither offering much more than a word or two.

The queen swirls her cup, watching the motion of the wine within. She giggles and puts it down, picking up the looking glass and admiring herself. She sits on a wooden stool, her skirts dusted with the dirt of the road. Despite the filth, she insists on sporting a new gown each day, no matter how extravagant.

“What a fool? To think he is wasting his time on commoners,” she trills, “you know, he should be here, worried about his wife and queen. Not married a week and all we’ve done is ride anon. I’ve had no wedding, no feast. How I am neglected for these dirty farmers.”

You say nothing. You’re not certain she recalls you’re there. She speaks to herself often as if her mother is there. A few times, she has even called for the duchess. Often when she’s nearly finished the bottle.

She pouts and sniffs. She drains the cup completely and puts it down heavily on the crate next to her. She grips the mirror with both hands and looks at her reflection. She contorts her face, sucking in her cheeks, pushing out her lips, turning her head this way and that.

“Aren’t I beautiful?” She nearly whispers. You don’t flinch. You stare at your hem. She sighs and stomps her foot, “I’m asking you!”

You peek up at her, surprised.

“Yes, your highness, you are very beautiful.”

She frowns, “you lie to me.”

“I wouldn’t lie, your highness.”

“Don’t argue with me,” she snarls and slams the mirror down, cracking the glass on the crate. She stands and blusters around, her skirts catching between her legs, “if I am beautiful, what makes me so, hm? Tell me!”

You stare at her. She is beautiful. You always thought so.

“Your hair, your curls, your highness, they are beautiful.”

She rolls her eyes, “just my hair?”

She wobbles slightly as she struts towards you.

“Your eyes. They are pretty too. And you have a nicely set nose. And your lips are finely curved, your highness,” you explain as she looms closer and closer.

“Hmph,” she stops, slouching drunkenly as she leans in to consider you, “of course you would say so. Look at you. So plain. An ugly handmaid.”

You stare back at her, a strike in your chest, then drop your gaze. It is the wine. She huffs, her alcohol-laden breath tinging your nose.

“The king,” she babbles as she turns on her heels, swaying dangerously, “we’ve only lain together our first night. It was... quick. He didn’t want me to sleep with him,” she raises a hand and flutters her fingers, “he shooed me away like some whore.” She spins and falls onto the stool, “if I am so beautiful, why does he not want me?”

You watch her. She isn’t looking for your answer. She’s talking to talk. Lady Rezlyn isn’t there so she has only herself and stagnant air trapped in the tent.

“It is my duty to have his babies. To give him heirs. I cannot do that if he will not touch me. But perhaps when are in one place, he might try again,” she smiles and lifts the broken mirror. She tilts it and lets her hand drift down to your bodice. She pushes her chest up, “when he lets me take this off, he will see. He will want me.”

She convinces herself as she preens at her reflection, “perhaps it won’t hurt.” She looks around and sees the bottle of wine. She grabs it by the neck. She grips it and wiggles it at you in the air. “He’s even thicker than this,” she puts the mirror down and balances the bottle on her palm as she circles her fingers around the bottom of the bottles neck, just before it rounds out, “and longer.”

You stare at the silk wall, mortified by her words. She giggles and the movement of her hand draws your eyes up. You watch from under your lashes as she brings her hands up and down the bottle neck.

“Mother says, just like this,” she pumps it, “that he should like it very much.” She stops and focuses on the bottle, “mmm, he is a man underneath it all.” She tosses the bottle away, “and I am a beautiful woman. He will want me.”

You lower your eyes again and twine your fingers together. You can’t help but feel bad for her. You only wish you had some words of wisdom or comfort to offer her. Or that she would hear them. You can’t help but touch the fading bruise along your stomach as you languish in the tepid silence. It’s better to let her forget you.

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #series #au #medieval au #the witcher #winter's king #dark fic #dark!fic

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