#day 4 candlelight

[pushing500]

Awww, look at Fafo teaching her son how to be a good friend. Ro is going to be such a lovely kid. <3

Debby and Barghest got into a fistfight while under the curious gaze of Buccaneer the drebbbd, Dallas the baby thrumbo, and Asset the ankylosaurus. Perhaps the most difficult fight we've had to face while starting up the ship reactor. (Debby won)

"This piece shows a knife" might be my favourite RimWorld art description ever.

Then Fafo decided to give Ro another lesson, and... Well, I'm sure Kaz is thrilled by his son's newly expanded vocabulary at least.

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[punkshort]

i know who you are | 4. the others

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Winter begins to wrap its arms around Jackson, filling the town with snow and a nasty flu. Joel takes you to meet Ben and Lisa, and you finally discover more about your past.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, amnesia, sad!joel, pining, sexual tension, slow burn, jealousy

WC: 9K

Series Masterlist

You looked happy.

Ever since you began working at the infirmary, you seemed happier. Like you were grateful to have a purpose. A way to contribute. To give back to the community that supported you.

You smiled more and you didn't shy away from him as much as you used to and it gave Joel hope. Every time you saw him and greeted him with a smile or said goodbye with a squeeze of his shoulder, it made his heart flutter. It's been weeks. Months, technically. But he was making some progress.

It was the first snowfall of the season and it put you in an even better mood than usual. Your face was pressed up against the window as he tended to the fire behind you, and you watched as the big, fluffy flakes of snow fell from the sky, coating Jackson in a perfect blanket of pure white.

"I didn't get much snow where I'm from," you told him over your shoulder. He knew that already, but he humored you.

"That so?"

"Mhmm. When I was a kid, though, we got hit with this freak storm. No one knew what to do. No one owned shovels or snow blowers or any of that, so we were all stuck inside our houses until the storm ended and everything melted," you said, turning away from the window so you could curl up on the couch, then pausing for a moment before tilting your head to the side. "Did I tell you this already?"

Yes, he thought, but he shook his head, eager for you to continue. He just loved hearing you talk, no matter what you said. Besides, if you were expected to rebuild your relationship, sharing your past would naturally be part of that, so he encouraged you to tell stories, even if he's heard them before.

"So, what happened?" he asked, putting the poker back in the stand and getting up with a groan, his knees cracking a bit before he settled in on the other end of the couch.

"Well, the power went out," you said, and he could hear the excitement in your voice, delighted to be telling him something you thought he didn't already know, and it made his heart swell. "So we didn't have any heat or any way to cook our food. We set up camping tents in the middle of our living room and slept in there with, like, five blankets each. And we lived off pop-tarts and granola bars and peanut butter sandwiches for two days til the power came back on."

"Two days?" Joel repeated, and you nodded.

"Yeah, but it was fun. As a kid, you know? I'm sure my parents were freaking out but me and Matty were excited. We played board games and ate by candlelight and told ghost stories," you said wistfully, your eyes looking miles away. "We talked about that for years," you finished softly, and Joel smiled.

"I didn't get much snow where I'm from, either," he told you, and your eyes met his again.

"Texas, right?" and he nodded. "Did you live there your whole life?"

Something deep inside him sparked with a mix of nerves and excitement. It felt like you were meeting all over again, and while it was under less than ideal circumstances, he couldn't help but feel those butterflies you feel when you first meet someone new.

"Yep, my whole life. Tommy, too, except for when he was in the army."

"Were you in the army?" you asked, but he quickly shook his head.

"Nah. Wasn't my scene. Besides, I had Sarah."

"Oh, right," you said, feeling stupid for asking. You dropped your attention to your hands, which were twisted in your lap, as you thought about your next question.

"How old was she?" you asked quietly, still looking down and avoiding his gaze, but you heard him take a deep breath.

"She was twelve when she died," he told you, his words hanging heavy in the air and he could see the conflict in your face as you tried to figure out a way to learn more about him without reopening old wounds. "It's okay, I don't mind talkin' 'bout her."

"Did we used to talk about her?" you asked him curiously, finally looking up to meet his gaze.

He shrugged. "Sometimes. But not at first. Still hurt too much back then, y'know?"

"Yeah," you breathed, your mind now drifting to thoughts of your own family. Were you together when they died? Did you see it? If so, was it some sort of sick twist of luck that you now couldn't remember?

"What was your favorite thing to do together?" you asked, watching as his eyes found a fixed point on the wall while he considered your question.

"My favorite thing was hiking. Hers was goin' to the movies or the mall, most likely," he said with a soft chuckle. "I didn't mind, though. I was just happy she still wanted to be seen with her old man at that age. Makes me wonder if she felt bad for me or somethin'."

You furrowed your brow, confused. "Why would she feel bad for you?"

He sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "I didn't date much. Had a few poker buddies but I mostly spent my time with Tommy. Just worked so hard back then that I was too tired to do much else."

"And you were a contractor?" you asked, trying to remember the small pieces of information you picked up over the last two months. He nodded.

"Yeah, me and Tommy had our own business. That was a lifetime ago. Can't imagine doin' that kind of work now, not with my back," he said with a smile.

Joel's eyes flicked to the window over your shoulder, watching as the snow continued to come down, the window panes growing foggy in the corners. "Looks like we ain't goin' anywhere for a while," he said, changing the subject. You followed his gaze and nodded.

"What about Ellie? Is she okay back there?"

"Yeah, she'll be alright. She could make it up to the house if she got too cold," he assured you.

So, you were essentially snowed in. All alone.

You could feel his eyes on you as you watched the fire and you wondered if he was thinking about an alternate reality. One where you didn't have an accident. Where you remembered everything. One where you loved him the way he so obviously loved you, and what you might be doing differently in that very moment. You had a feeling your hunch was correct because he stretched his arm across the back of the couch and subtly inched a little closer towards you, the worn cushions dipping from his weight and causing your leg to bob.

Your body stiffened and your heart suddenly felt like it was being crushed in your throat. He was so patient, you had to give him credit. It couldn't be easy for him, and although you could finally admit to yourself that you found him attractive, you still didn't think you trusted him enough to take things any further. Not yet. Not when you still had so many questions. Your eyes drifted up to meet his and as you expected, he was watching you closely. Carefully. Trying to read you the same way you were trying to read him. The problem was, every time he looked at you that way, with his eyes all soft and filled with adoration, you could only think about what he was hiding. What did he lie about? And why was he so hesitant for you to meet Ben and Lisa?

Joel leaned in a fraction and his fingers tightened their hold on the back of the couch. He wanted to kiss you. He's wanted to kiss you ever since that day in the field right before that clicker ruined the moment. And with the soft glow from the fire and the snow falling silently outside, it felt like the perfect moment. He was terrified of making things worse after he finally felt like he made some progress, but it was killing him. He missed having you so fucking much, sometimes it felt like it actually caused him physical pain. Like his chest would explode one day.

He swallowed nervously and inched a little closer and you panicked. Just as he was about to say something, you cut him off.

"Do you wanna play a board game?"

He raised his eyebrows in surprise and you gave him a nervous smile.

"Sure," he replied, watching as you jumped off the couch to look through the games stacked on the bookcase. He groaned inwardly and rubbed his chin when you bent over and he had to force himself to look away before his body reacted, praying you didn't pick Twister.

It took two days but the snow finally stopped. Ellie did eventually make her way to the house by the second day, simply because she was bored, so you helped Joel make a vegetable soup while Ellie set up the Monopoly board in the living room. You didn't have all the pieces, but you had enough, and what you didn't have you supplemented with buttons.

You didn't realize it; too caught up in cooking and the joy it used to bring you, but you and Joel worked together seamlessly in the kitchen. He chopped up zucchini while you diced onion and watched the pot on the stove that was cooking up noodles, slipping past each other to get to the sink and the cupboards and it all just felt so fucking normal that it made his chest ache. He wanted to draw your attention to it. He wanted to take you by the shoulders and say See? See how good we are together? But he didn't. He bit his tongue and bided his time until you came to that conclusion on your own, just like the first time.

But the first time was different. At least back then, you showed him affection. You kissed him and held him and shared your body with him and although you didn't want much more, not at first, eventually you did. And those moments in his bed were enough to hold him over until you opened your eyes and saw what was right in front of you.

He was selfish. He knew it was wrong to want you like that right now, but he wanted all of you, not just physically. He yearned to know what was going on behind your eyes, what you were thinking and feeling. What you thought of him. But if you would maybe just let yourself fall asleep in his arms on the couch while you read in front of the fire, or let him kiss you, just once, then maybe you would see it again. Feel it again.

"What the hell does a purple button mean?" you asked with a giggle, holding up the smooth, round plastic between your fingers.

"It's a hotel, duh!" Ellie said, grinning and rolling her eyes.

"Wait, why am I goin' to jail?"

"You rolled doubles three times in a row!" you told him, and you and Ellie bent over laughing at the confused expression on his face.

He made a disgruntled noise and moved his token to the corner of the board as he watched you and Ellie giggling and wiping tears from your eyes and fuck, it was nice. In another world, he would have made some joke about you being the one in handcuffs and maybe later he would have followed through with it and tied your wrists to the headboard, burying his face between your thighs until you couldn't take it anymore.

But instead, he just watched two of the people he loved most in the world have fun, the orange glow from the fire flickering over your smiling faces while the snow finally came to a stop outside.

Ellie had trekked back to the garage once the game was over. It was late, you looked tired, but he still suggested putting a movie on. He wasn't ready to let you go. He hated going to bed all alone. You seemed to consider his offer for a moment before you shook your head and yawned, and although he knew that would likely be your answer, he still felt his heart sink.

He walked you to your bedroom and as he was about to say goodnight, hoping to minimize the hurt by making it quick, you did something that surprised him. You pulled him into a hug, standing on your tiptoes, your chin resting on his shoulder with your arms wrapped around his neck, body pressed firmly against his and just as quickly as it happened, you pulled away. Joel was so stunned he wasn't sure he hugged you back, even though he stood cemented to the floor well after you went to bed, replaying the hug over and over, all he could remember was how he felt. And he went to bed that night with renewed hope blooming in his chest. Maybe you were finally coming around.

So the next morning when you asked him out of the blue if you could visit Ben and Lisa once the streets cleared of snow, he had a hard time finding a reason to say no. He should have known you wouldn't let it go, but he did hold out hope that maybe you moved on from the idea since it had been a few weeks when you last mentioned them.

He agreed, of course, not wanting to ruin the delicate foundation of your relationship. Besides, he already decided he would go with you and make sure they didn't tell you anything you weren't ready to hear.

The snow had melted enough where the road was visible again, but the snowbanks still piled high around the buildings and houses and you felt strangely nervous as you followed Joel down the street. He had finally agreed to take you to meet Ben and Lisa, and while you were grateful he didn't have the reaction he had the first time you mentioned them, you still wondered what caused that outburst.

You tried to convince yourself that maybe he was just tired and cranky that day, having just gotten back from patrol for the fourth day in a row. But something still felt... off.

"Wow, when Ellie said they lived on the outskirts, she wasn't kidding," you said, realizing you were reaching an edge of Jackson you had yet to explore.

"Yeah, they tend to keep to themselves," he replied without further explanation. He didn't seem agitated, but he definitely wasn't happy about going to see them. He seemed more quiet and subdued than usual.

Finally, you arrived at a quaint looking cottage tucked back from the road a ways. Like Ellie had said, it was small, but it looked cozy. You could see the smoke pluming from the chimney and you couldn't wait to warm up again.

There was no porch. Just a small roof over the front door and a folding chair that looked like it had seen better days. He knocked firmly on the door and after a moment, you heard light shuffling on the other side.

The door cracked open and you were greeted by a short woman around your age with dull, brown hair and bright green eyes. She saw Joel first and, like most people in town, she hesitated. But then she noticed you next to him and her expression changed. A wide smile stretched across her face and she said your name softly, then held her arms out for a hug.

"It's so good to see you," she said in your ear, giving you a tight squeeze before turning around and ushering you both inside. "Come in, come in, it's freezing out there. Ben! You'll never guess who's here!"

You both stepped inside and as you were slipping off your outerwear, you glanced around the small space. It was tight, but it was filled with warmth. The living room had two small, mismatched loveseats on either side of the stone fireplace. Two large bookshelves that were filled with so many books that the shelves were sagging stood on either side of the fire, and curiously you didn't notice a television anywhere in the room.

You heard a man's deep voice behind you say your name and you jumped in surprise. Turning around, you were pulled into another hug by who you could only assume was Ben. He was tall - taller than Joel - and you wondered how on earth such a small house could fit such a large man. He stepped away, his dark eyes glittering with his hands still on your shoulders, taking in your appearance as if you haven't seen them in years.

Maybe you haven't.

You were so focused on absorbing every little detail about the house and its residents that you didn't notice Joel's body stiffen next to you, his eyes glued to Ben's hands. And while Lisa seemed to have the same reaction to Joel that everyone else in town did, Ben, on the other hand, did not seem phased by his presence. In fact, he appeared pleased to see him. Once he dropped his hands from your shoulders, he stretched out a lanky arm and shook Joel's hand, giving him a kind smile which Joel had a hard time returning.

"What a wonderful surprise. Come, let's sit. Do you want coffee or tea?" Ben asked, his eyes drifting between you and Joel. You both shook your heads and Ben smiled warmly at you once again. Even though the living room was just a few feet away from the front door, Ben still rested his hand on your shoulder and guided you to one of the loveseats as if you might lose your way, only dropping his hold on you when he sat down across from you on the other one.

Joel eased himself down on the couch beside you, the space so small that he had no choice but to rest his leg against yours, and Lisa went to join Ben, the crackling fire between both loveseats warming you up right away.

"We heard you had an accident. How are you feeling?" Lisa asked, her voice so small and gentle compared to Ben's booming baritone.

"Better, thanks. But it's kind of why I'm here," you said, glancing over at Joel nervously, but he was staring silently at Ben, who still seemed unaffected.

Lisa tilted her head to the side and wrapped a hand around Ben's forearm, leaning into him a bit as she got more comfortable on the couch. You noticed for the first time a basket on the floor next to her feet filled with different colored yarn and half knitted projects tucked inside. "Oh?" she asked, then it seemed to dawn on her. "Oh! Is it... is it true? Do you really have memory loss?"

When you nodded, you noticed the flicker of pity across both their faces as they exchanged a somber look.

"I can only remember my life before the outbreak. My mom, dad and brother. I don't even remember what happened or how they died or how I managed to survive," you began, feeling yourself growing a little emotional. Joel must have sensed it in your tone because he squeezed your knee reassuringly, and when you glanced over at him, he had finally torn his eyes away from Ben to look at you with concern.

"It's been hard," Joel said, finally speaking up, addressing Ben and Lisa. "Lots of confusion, lots of missin' pieces. But she kept a journal. Turns out, she wrote 'bout you two, so that's why we're here," he finished, narrowing his eyes a bit at them.

"You wrote about us? How sweet," Ben said cheerily, running a hand through his dark blonde curls.

"Yes, but-"

"It wasn't anythin' that detailed," Joel said quickly, and you frowned at him. He sat back into the sofa and glanced over at you. "Right?"

"Yeah," you said slowly, dragging your eyes away from Joel and back to your hosts. "Just that we went fishing and it felt like old times," you continued, and they both smiled at the memory. The only sound in the room was the fire next to you, the wood popping loudly under the flames as you weighed your next question. "So I was hoping you might help tell me about myself before we arrived in Jackson. Is that... okay?"

Lisa shifted in her seat, a small smile still twitching at her lips as she gazed up at Ben, waiting for him to reply. He hesitated a moment and you thought you saw his eyes flicker to Joel before responding.

"Of course," Ben said, slapping the tops of his thighs, jostling loose Lisa's grip on his arm. He quickly picked her hand back up and brought her knuckles to his lips for a quick kiss, but your eyes were drawn to the unfamiliar symbol tattooed on the inside of her wrist, only made visible when Ben picked up her arm and her sleeve hung down.

"Can you tell me about when we first met?" you asked, figuring you should start at the beginning.

"Oh, what was it? Six or eight months after the outbreak, yeah?" Ben wondered aloud, looking to Lisa to confirm. She nodded and scratched her neck.

"Sounds about right."

You allowed yourself to feel a glimmer of excitement. There were two people right in front of you that could help fill in the blanks for the first five years after the outbreak, and you couldn't wait to hear more.

"We met in the Atlanta QZ," he began, but you quickly stopped him.

"QZ?"

"Quarantine Zone. All the major cities had 'em. Was meant to keep people safe from infected but the military ran most of 'em into the ground," Joel explained. "Treated people like cattle. Strict curfews. Barely enough rations to survive."

"It was awful," Lisa added solemnly.

"Was I alone?" you asked them, and Ben nodded. "Did I tell you anything about my family? How they died?"

Their eyes shifted to Joel for a moment before looking at one another.

"I thought you had said the infected got your mom on the first day. But your dad and brother..." Ben trailed off, looking down at his hands sadly. "They got caught out after curfew. It happened before we got there. They... were punished."

You frowned a little, looking to Joel to help shed some light on what Ben meant, but he was staring down at his feet.

"Punished?" you squeaked as your heart began to pound faster in your chest.

"Punishment for bein' out after curfew was death," Joel spoke up softly next to you.

You looked at all three of them, your eyes wide in disbelief. "Death? The military were killing people?"

"It was horrible. It's why we escaped," Lisa replied with tears in her eyes.

"Okay, then what?" you pressed, trying not to dwell too long on the thought of your father and brother being murdered by the very people who were supposed to protect them.

"After we escaped?" Ben clarified, and you nodded. He cleared his throat and averted his gaze. "We survived. Did what we had to do."

There it was again. Did what we had to do. The same thing Joel said when you brought up Lisa and Ben the first time.

You waited for him to elaborate but when it became apparent Ben had finished talking, you pushed him further. "Like what? What does that mean?"

"We laid low. Found some secluded spots in the wilderness and stuck it out for as long as we could," Lisa said, her eyes casually drifting between the two men. You looked at Joel, who was holding a steady glare at Ben and Lisa, but otherwise he was perfectly silent.

"For five years we just laid low? In the woods? The three of us?" you asked, and they could tell you knew they weren't telling you the whole truth. "What aren't you telling me? Did we do something bad? Did something happen?"

Joel shifted in his seat next to you but you kept your eyes pinned on Lisa and Ben, trying to read the expressions on their faces.

Ben was the first to fold. He dragged his eyes up to meet yours and gave you a half smile and shrug. "Yeah. I mean, everyone did bad things one time or another. It's impossible not to-"

"Like what?" you demanded. You could feel your anger building up now. "I'm not a child. Just tell me."

Ben sighed and looked at Joel once again, and this time you had enough.

"Why do you keep looking at him?"

Ben's eyes snapped back to you and he forced out a small chuckle, trying in vain to diffuse the tension in the room.

"You're our guests, so I'm looking at you both."

You weren't going to argue with him when it was clear he was looking at Joel for direction on what to say. It all made sense now. No wonder Joel didn't fight you on coming to visit them. He had planned all along to control the conversation and keep you in the dark and something inside you snapped.

Standing up from the couch suddenly, you looked down at Ben and Lisa, anger brimming in your eyes.

"Thanks," you spat, heading towards the front door. "Sorry to bother you both."

"It's no bother," Lisa said, her voice wavering as she followed you to the door. "Really. Stop by any time, it was nice to see you."

You scoffed and resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you shoved your boots and coat back on, doing your best to finish before Joel so you could get a head start back home.

Flinging open the door without another word, you took a deep breath and stormed down the street, the chilly winter air filling your lungs, trying to cool your anger from the inside out. But then you heard Joel's heavy footsteps crunching in the snow, hurrying to catch up to you, and your rage peaked again.

"You alright?" he asked when he found his place back by your side.

"No, I'm not alright," you seethed, staring straight ahead with your arms wrapped around your middle. "What was that back there?"

"What'dya mean?"

You skidded to a stop and glared at him, his cheeks pink from the cold and his chest rising and falling a little quicker than usual.

"You know what I mean. I'm not stupid, Joel. What don't you want me to know?"

He stared at you, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to figure out how to respond.

"I'm not-"

"Don't bullshit me!" you yelled, and when you remembered you were in the middle of the street, you lowered your voice. "They were clearly scared of you. You didn't want them to tell me something. It was so obvious, Joel! I hit my head but I'm not fucking blind."

"I didn't ask them to say or not say anythin'," he said truthfully.

You stared at one another, both watching as your exhale mixed together, little clouds swirling in between you before rising above your heads and disappearing, each waiting for the other to break first.

"Maybe I should move out," you finally said, voice filled with sadness. His face fell instantly.

"Why?"

"You know why. I don't think I can trust you. How can I, when I can't even get a simple answer out of you?" What did he lie about?

If you had stabbed him in the chest, it would have hurt less. His gaze fell to the ground and he felt his throat begin to constrict. He had to do something. He couldn't lose you. So he told you a half truth.

"You and Ben used to be a thing," he said, and your jaw dropped in surprise.

"What?"

He clenched his jaw and rolled his eyes. "Before you came to Jackson. You and him were a couple."

You looked away from him, taking a minute to wrap your mind around what he just told you. You supposed it would make sense. It would explain why Joel was so weird about bringing you to see them. Maybe you misread the tension in the room. Maybe the tension was about something else entirely.

"That's why you were acting so strange? That's why you were staring him down?" you asked. His answer was still difficult to believe. It explained Joel's behavior, but it didn't explain what bad things you had done and why nobody seemed willing to tell you what they were.

He shrugged and rubbed his hands together. "Can we talk about this at home? I'm freezin'," he said.

The walk afforded you more time to think now that you had this new piece of the puzzle. Ben did seem like your type: he was handsome and kind, but if you and Ben were together in the past, where did that leave Lisa? They were clearly an item now. Wouldn't that have made for a strange relationship between the three of you? Perhaps that's why you didn't see them often.

Joel let you stew in silence for the walk home, fucking praying what he told you would be enough to keep you from following through with your threat. Why did it feel like every time he made some progress with you, something happened that fucked everything up?

Maybe he should have just let them tell you the whole truth.

No, that would have been bad. You didn't trust him enough yet. You said it yourself. And if you were willing to move out over something like this, you certainly would never speak to him again if you knew the whole story.

He needed to earn your trust first but it was so fucking hard when you wouldn't let him in. When you found out the truth the first time, you were already months into a relationship with him. You were already sleeping together, and while it didn't evolve into anything more until later, it still helped build your trust in him when he finally told you the truth.

He didn't have that with you now, and for the first time he began to doubt his ability to make you fall in love with him again.

You huddled in front of the fire after the long walk home, the two of you remaining silent the entire way. Joel was in the kitchen, most likely avoiding you and your questions while you warmed up. You weren't even going to bother bringing up the topic again, but Joel surprised you by doing it himself.

"I'm sorry. 'Bout earlier," he said from the entryway. You turned from the fire to look at him. He looked worried. His eyes were wide and his brow was knit while his hands fidgeted at his sides.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" you asked, and he sighed.

"Dunno. Guess I was hopin' you'd let it go or change your mind," he said, ticking his jaw to the side.

"What would it have even mattered? I don't remember him, I don't remember what we had together. I certainly don't have feelings for him," you told him, sitting down on the couch and tucking your legs underneath you.

He looked around the room nervously as you waited for an answer that wasn't coming.

You sighed and rubbed your eyes. "If this is going to work, you need to be honest with me-"

"I was scared, alright?" he said abruptly. You watched him hang his head between his shoulders and take a deep breath before collapsing into the arm chair next to the couch. "I was scared you'd maybe remember him or..." he trailed off, finding it difficult to put into words what he was thinking. And although it wasn't the whole truth, it still was the truth. He was afraid this version of you would want someone like Ben and not like him.

He was afraid of losing you.

You seemed to understand because you didn't ask him to finish his thought. Instead, since he was opening up, you asked him something else that was bothering you.

"What did I do?"

He looked at you curiously, not following at first until you continued.

"Ben said I did bad things. We all did bad things to survive. What did he mean?"

Joel swallowed and thought about his answer for a moment. You sighed, growing impatient.

"You can't keep the truth from me forever. I'll find out one day, just tell -"

"You killed people," he told you, and you completely lost your train of thought. You searched his face as all of the air rushed out of your lungs, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.

"I killed people?" you repeated, your voice barely a whisper, and he nodded slowly. You felt the tears begin to well up in your eyes but you blinked them away. What kind of monster did you become?

"Innocent people?"

"Depends on who you ask," he said right away, almost as if he expected that question.

"What does that mean?"

He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully as he stared into the fire. "I told you. Everyone did what they had to do in order to survive. I know it's hard for you to understand what it was like, but there were a lot of bad people out there. A lot of bad fuckin' people. The military was outta control. There were revolutions and raiders and slavers." He paused and sniffed a bit, continuing to stare into the flames while you hung on his every word. "When I say you killed people... it ain't black and white. I killed people, too. Alotta people. When the whole goddamn world ends and all you got left is one or two people you care 'bout, you'll do whatever you gotta do to protect 'em. D'you understand?" he asked, finally dragging his eyes up to look at you.

You blinked, thinking about what he said, his words rolling around your head like pinballs.

"I think so," you said quietly.

He nodded, still pinning you with his stare. "We all made decisions. We made choices based on what we knew at the time and we did our best."

You nodded, your voice wavering a bit when you asked "Am I a bad person, Joel?"

His eyebrows pinched together and he leaned forward in his chair, wanting to reach out to you, comfort you and pull you into his arms, but he refrained. "No, baby. You ain't a bad person," he told you softly.

And you weren't sure why, but you believed him.

The streets were quiet as you slowly made your way to the infirmary. You didn't start your shift until late in the morning and you didn't feel like joining Ellie at the dining hall for breakfast, so you stayed home, only getting out of bed when you heard Joel leave for patrol. He had already warned you the night before that he would be back later than usual due to the storm. Trails would likely be difficult to pass and nobody could predict if there would be damage at any of the outposts, but it was highly likely.

You didn't move out like you had threatened to. You didn't even know what you were thinking when you said that. Where would you have gone? The garage with Ellie? You didn't know anybody else. Not really. But even if you had, you saw the look in Joel's face when you said those words and even though you were so fucking angry with him, you still felt terrible for causing him pain.

On one hand, it seemed like he was just looking out for you, but on the other, his actions often came off as selfish. You had every right to know your past and what you did, and you were growing sick of Joel treating you like a child. Like you were too fragile to understand.

But at least you got it out of him. Even though you had to take extreme measures, you finally got him to tell you something truthful, and that was a positive step forward.

Lost in your thoughts, you weren't even paying attention when a man's voice called your name from across the street. You looked up after the third try and were surprised to find Ben waving to you from the tailor. You raised your hand in greeting and made your way over to the building.

"Hey," you said a little sheepishly, "about the other day, I'm sorry for how I acted-"

He shook his head and gave you a reassuring smile. "No need to apologize. All of this has to be so confusing for you. We understand."

You dropped your gaze to the frozen ground and dug your boot into the snow. "Thank you, I appreciate that. It's very frustrating, actually. I'm just trying to learn about myself and what's happened in the past ten years and I guess I took out my anger on you guys."

He waved you off and leaned against the doorframe of the tailor. "Don't worry about it. We were just happy to see you again."

And even though Ben was absolving you of your guilt, you somehow felt even worse. He was being so nice and you hardly felt like you deserved it. "Joel explained it to me, by the way. After we left your house he told me about us," you said, waving your finger back and forth between you.

"Ah," Ben said with a knowing smile as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I wondered as much. It was a very long time ago but Joel can be..." Ben trailed off and scratched his chin, "he can be a little protective, I suppose. He never really understood the nature our relationship."

You tilted your head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"It was just casual. He always thought there was something more," Ben said, meeting your eye. "But I promise you, there wasn't. At the time, we were just lonely and scared and looking for comfort. Neither of us was looking for anything more than that."

You nodded thoughtfully. "He did say we were a couple," you said, and Ben chuckled softly.

"I wouldn't even call it that. Truly. There were no hurt feelings. We just never had a connection past... y'know," he said with a shrug. You felt yourself flush a bit at the words he left unspoken and looked away. "But I'm glad he told you."

"Yeah, me too. I know his heart is in the right place, I just wish he would have told me about us and all the shit we did before I came to see you. Probably would have made the visit a little more pleasant," you said with a laugh, but Ben's face fell.

"He told you about what we did?" he asked, his tone suddenly serious. You sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, he told me I've killed people. It's been really hard to wrap my head around, but I'm trying to come to terms with it. He explained the world we live in now is not like the one I remember."

Ben raised his eyebrows in surprise and unfolded his arms. "Wow. I'm kind of shocked he told you about us and the Fireflies. That must have been really hard for you both."

You frowned and searched his face. "Fireflies?"

His body stiffened and his face paled when he realized his mistake. "Yeah. He told you about the Fireflies, right?"

You shook your head. "What are the Fireflies?"

"Shit," he muttered, pushing himself off the wall abruptly and clearing his throat. "I should get back to work. Just please forget I said anything, okay?"

"Ben, wait," you tried, but he disappeared back inside the tailor, leaving you standing in front of the door while more questions piled up.

There seemed to be a bad flu being spread around town because the infirmary was busier than usual. You were grateful for the distraction, especially after your conversation with Ben. You had spent the better part of the afternoon rushing from exam room to exam room, cleaning up after each patient as quickly as you could so Nick could continue treating the revolving door of people coughing and sneezing in the waiting room. Nick had recommended you wear a bandana around your mouth and nose to hopefully keep you healthy, but you had a feeling it would just be a matter of time before you caught the same bug as everyone else. Still, you kept the bandana tied around your neck as you worked diligently. What you didn't expect, however, was the bit of anonymity the mask afforded you.

You were cleaning up exam room six when you heard a woman's familiar voice in the room across the hall. Nick had left the door cracked open after he ushered her inside, and she apparently had another woman in there waiting with her as you started to pick up on hushed pieces of their conversation.

You didn't intend to eavesdrop, but curiosity got the best of you when you tried to place her voice, and when you realized it was Angie, your hands froze and your body stilled, doing your best to not make any noise so you could listen.

"... going down there almost every night... matter of time... him."

"But what about... freak out."

You frowned, inching closer to the door as you tried to fill in the gaps in their conversation.

Then you heard Angie say your name clear as day and your eyebrows shot up. You pressed your back against the wall and held your breath.

"She doesn't even like him. That relationship is a ticking time bomb."

You silently gasped when you realized they were most certainly talking about you and Joel.

It wasn't even true. You liked Joel. You were attracted to Joel. You were even starting to trust Joel a little more, although you definitely had plans to ask him about the Fireflies. But you were still getting to know him and it was taking time. Was this girl talking about trying to steal Joel away from you? The idea made your stomach turn and anger flare deep in your chest.

You shocked yourself with your reaction. Steal Joel away? Since when did you begin to feel some sense of ownership over him? Were you jealous?

You heard Nick's voice leaving an exam room a few doors down and you quickly made yourself look busy. He sighed tiredly in the hallway as he flipped through some papers before pushing open the door to Angie's room. You were changing the bedding on the mattress when you heard Nick call your name and you quickly dropped the sheets to cross the hall.

When your eyes locked with Angie's, giving her a hardened stare, you swore you saw a flicker of fear before she forced a fake smile and coughed into her fist while her friend, one you recognized from the bathroom at the Tipsy Bison, nervously shifted her weight and looked away. You felt a sick sense of satisfaction when it became clear to the two girls that you had heard everything they said, and you were grateful you had your mask on so they couldn't see the corners of your mouth twitch.

"Would you mind grabbing a bag of cough drops and a jar of menthol from the supply cabinet?" Nick asked, completely oblivious to the shift in the air.

"Sure thing," you told him, turning on your heel to leave and allowing yourself to finally smile.

Joel might scare the rest of the town, but you sure as hell scared the shit out of Angie.

Your shift at the infirmary went longer than expected. By the time you arrived home, you were exhausted and the sun was almost setting. So far you weren't feeling sick, but from what you had overheard all day, the symptoms came on quick, so you had already decided to call it an early night and get some rest. When you swung open the front door and found Joel hunched over the kitchen table, your plans went flying out the window.

He looked like he was on death's door. You had never seen him look so run down and pale. He didn't even open his eyes to look at you, he just kept them shut while he rubbed his temples and tried to stifle a cough, his backpack abandoned at his feet.

"Joel?" you called, toeing off your boots and hurrying over to him. You crouched down on the floor and pressed the back of your hand against his forehead. "You're burning up."

He groaned and cracked open one eye. "Feel like shit. Dunno what happened."

"There's a bad virus spreading around, the infirmary was slammed today," you said, pushing yourself up onto your aching feet to get him a glass of water. "Drink this and I'll heat you up some soup," you told him before heading towards the stove.

"You don't gotta-"

"Drink," you said firmly, cutting him off. He winced before picking up the glass and forcing down the cool liquid. Once you got the gas going on the stove, you grabbed an empty bowl and shoved your boots back on. "I'll be right back," you told him. He sat up a little straighter in his chair, about to ask where you were going but you already disappeared through the front door, returning seconds later with the bowl filled with snow.

"Lean back," you instructed, placing the bowl on the table. He did as he was told and closed his eyes, the lights from the kitchen ceiling making his head ache but when you pressed a handful of packed snow against his forehead, he groaned with relief.

"Oh shit, that feels good," he whispered as you tried to ignore the twinge between your legs at his low tone. He released a shaky breath and you watched as the snow began to melt, little trails of water dripping from his hair and down his scruffy cheeks. When it was nearly melted, you took your hand away and dumped the remnants in the sink, grabbing a towel and drying your hands on the way back. You pinched his stubbly chin delicately in your fingers and tipped his head towards you while slowly and gently wiping away the water from his face. When you finished, your eyes found his already boring into you and you felt a tingle shoot down your spine.

"Better?"

His gaze softened as he continued to stare up at you, searching your face quietly, making your heart begin to beat faster in your chest. You swallowed nervously and forced yourself to look away, and it was then he finally realized you had asked him a question.

"Yes," he murmured, "thank you."

You dragged your eyes back to his and gave him a small smile. "More?"

He didn't trust himself to speak. He just slowly nodded and watched with heavy lidded eyes as you scooped up another handful of snow. With your free hand, you slid your fingers behind his neck and through his hair, cupping the back of his head in your small hand before pressing the snow gently against his forehead once again. And even though he wanted to keep looking at you, he couldn't stop his eyes from fluttering shut at the cooling sensation, earning you another deep groan from his throat and causing your breath to stutter.

He heard it and opened his eyes.

You stared at each other, lips parted as the air began to thicken with tension. His eyes flickered over your face, noticing the way your pupils appeared bigger as you gazed down at him. He took a risk and slowly brought his hand up to rest on your side, watching you carefully for any sign that he should stop. He pressed his fingertips lightly into your hip, the fabric of your shirt bunching up slightly from the pressure.

You dropped your eyes to his hand and blinked rapidly, then opened your mouth to speak when you heard sizzling at the stove. You whipped your head around just as his soup began to boil over the pot.

"Shit!" you yelped, dropping the half melted snow onto the towel and racing over to the range. You twisted the knob off and put the pot on one of the unused burners and the liquid immediately simmered back down. "Sorry," you said, refusing to look at him as you started to gather a bowl and spoon, embarrassment burning your cheeks.

"Don't be," he replied, still leaning back in his chair in the same position you left him. He watched you fumble nervously in the kitchen and he had to suppress a smile.

Maybe he still had a chance, after all.

Joel's temperature was a little high but nothing too concerning, so you pushed the fluids and he ate all of his soup and it helped put your mind at ease. You really didn't want to have to ask for ibuprofen unless it was absolutely necessary, especially considering how the same virus was hitting almost every house at the same time. You made sure to check on Ellie from her doorway, not wanting to risk her catching anything since she appeared to be fine, before helping Joel up to bed.

Once you followed him into the room and he turned on the light next to his bed, you realized you hadn't actually ever entered his bedroom before. Sure, you've walked past it when the door was open and glanced inside, but you never really looked. As he gathered some fresh pajamas and began to unbutton his flannel, you turned your back to him to give him some privacy and examined his bookshelf. Your eyes drifted over the titles on the spines of a handful of books, most of which you hadn't heard of before noticing a framed photograph sharing a shelf with his books. It was faded and a little torn, but you could still make out their faces. It was Joel - a far younger version of Joel - with his arm around a beautiful little girl with dark hair and eyes and a stunning smile. You felt your throat tighten when you realized who it was, and if you had any doubt, Joel's voice piped up behind you.

"That's Sarah."

You heard him shuffling his bedding around so you figured he was dressed.

"She's beautiful, Joel," you said, walking over to his side of the bed and popping the thermometer under his tongue one more time. "It's wonderful that you were able to find a picture of her. I wish I had some pictures of my family," you said sadly, watching the hands of the clock on top of his bookshelf tick, counting down the seconds until you could check the thermometer. "I would have loved for you to at least see them. I think you would have gotten along with my brother really well. Maybe too well," you added with a soft laugh, not realizing he was silently hanging on your every word as you continued to stare at the clock. "He was always looking out for me. Always protecting me, trying to shield me and it drove me nuts when I was younger, but as time went on, I understood it a bit more."

You pulled the thermometer out and checked the number. "Still the same," you told him, resting it on his nightstand.

"How much time?" he asked, and you gave him a confused look. "How much time did it take 'til you started to understand?" he clarified, and you realized what he was really asking.

"I don't know," you replied honestly, sitting on the edge of his bed with a sigh. "But I'm starting to... understand," you said, giving him a sideways glance. You really wanted to ask him about the Fireflies but seeing how sick he was, you decided to bring it up another time. His hand slipped out from underneath the covers and gently squeezed your knee.

"That's good," he said softly before furrowing his brow and turning his head to cough loudly into his pillow. You winced at how bad it sounded and rubbed his upper back. When the coughing fit passed, you handed him his water and he took a grateful sip.

"Do you need anything else before I go to bed?"

"Could you stay here?" he found himself asking before he could even think. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise as you struggled to answer. "Just 'til I fall asleep?"

"Oh," you replied, looking awkwardly around his rather sparse room. "Sure, let me just go wash up," you said, standing up from his bed. You were dead on your feet from your shift at work and you knew the next day wouldn't be any better, but you felt bad saying no, so you changed your clothes and grabbed one of the books Joel had found for you before dragging the chair from the corner of his room to the side of his bed.

"You can stretch out over there," he told you, pointing weakly to the other side of the bed before coughing into his closed fist. "I won't bite."

You smiled as you settled into the chair. "I'm alright, thanks," you said, opening your book and leaning back, trying to get comfortable. After a few minutes of reading, you looked up just to find him still watching you. You laughed and said "you need to get some rest if you want to kick this thing," then he grinned and finally closed his eyes.

You may not have been in bed with him, but you were close enough to help him relax and for the first time in months, he fell fast asleep within minutes.

Please follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️

[juuuulez]

bearblr promptober + kinktober 2024

this october i’ll be doing half of each! on alternating days, i’ll be posting the corresponding bearblr prompt (created by the almighty @carmenberzattosgf), and then a kinktober drabble of my own choosing.

here’s the lineup, fics will be updated and linked next month! kinktober is (obviously) smut, and prompts marked with 🍂 indicate non-smut/fluff.

🍂 bearblr #1: scary movie -> sydney adamu

💌 completed

kinktober #2: nipple play -> carmen berzatto

💌 completed

🍂 bearblr #3: apple picking -> carmen berzatto

💌 completed

kinktober #4: throat fucking -> steve harrington

💌 completed

bearblr #5: vampire -> richie jerimovich

💌 completed

kinktober #6: cockwarming + under the desk -> keys mckey

💌 completed

bearblr #7: orgasm control -> carmen berzatto

💌 completed

kinktober #8: hate fuck + semi-public sex -> steve harrington

💌 completed

kinktober #9: body worship + on film -> veronica fisher

💌 completed

🍂 bearblr #10: rain soaked -> richie jerimovich

💌 completed

kinktober #11: spanking -> lip gallagher

💌 completed

kinktober #12: subspace -> steve harrington

💌 completed

🍂 bearblr #13: hot cocoa + baking -> carmen berzatto

💌 completed

bearblr #14: somnophilia -> richie jerimovich

💌 incomplete

kinktober #15: edging -> keys mckey

💌 incomplete

🍂 bearblr #16: bonfire -> richie jerimovich

💌 incomplete

bearblr #17: dumbification -> richie jerimovich

💌 incomplete

🍂 bearblr #18: candlelight -> michael berzatto

💌 incomplete

kinktober #19: possessed -> steve harrington

💌 incomplete

🍂 bearblr #20: slow morning -> carmen berzatto

💌 incomplete

kinktober #21: orgasm denial -> steve harrington

💌 incomplete

kinktober #22: squirting + competitive -> lip + carmy

💌 incomplete

bearblr #23: dacryphillia -> carmen berzatto

💌 incomplete

🍂 bearblr #24: haunted house -> richie jerimovich

💌 incomplete

bearblr #25: size kink -> carmen berzatto

💌 incomplete

kinktober #26: breeding + overstim -> lip gallagher

💌 incomplete

kinktober #27: wet dream -> carmen berzatto (solo)

💌 incomplete

🍂 bearblr #28: sick day -> michael berzatto

💌 incomplete

kinktober #29: dry humping + high sex -> steve harrington

💌 incomplete

🍂 bearblr #30: sweaters (sharing clothes) -> carmen berzatto

💌 incomplete

🍂 bearblr #31: trick or treat -> richie jerimovich

💌 incomplete

[thehistoriccemetery]

Honestly I’d beg for prompt 4. Is Tav the one in bed? What’s the vibe lol

BG3 x GN!Reader : “Stay in Bed, Please?”

I try to make the vibe a little bit different for all of them. There are certain characters who definitely sleep later and certain ones that are consistently up before sunrise.

Featuring Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Karlach, Minthara, and Jaheira

I’m really feeling this prompt right now, as it is impossible to get out of bed and go to work so early when the weather is so cold and the bed is so warm.

Shadowheart

You really do try and make as quiet an exit as possible. Shadowheart is a light sleeper.

Regardless, you don’t even make it off the mattress before you hear her precious little whine.

She turns over, sleepy eyes barely opened, looking into yours. Her hair is down and you almost giggle as it covers large parts of her face. “Stay in bed, please?”

It’s a tempting offer, you must admit. But you promised Lae’zel you’d train with her this morning.

You kiss her on the forehead and tuck her back into the blankets. “Go back to sleep, princess. I have to go.”

“My lady gives us a few more hours of her precious moonlight. You would take her gift for granted?” She teases, still not satisfied with your answer.

You roll your eyes and chuckle. “Well, I suppose I don’t want to upset your goddess.”

“Then you best crawl your way back under these blankets, lest you face her wrath.” She lifts the blankets, beckoning you back underneath.

You sigh, curling up back under the sheets. Looks like Lae’zel will be training alone this morning.

Shadowheart curls up into your chest. You feel the smug little smile grow on her face.

Lae’zel

Beg and whine as you wish, Lae’zel is not staying in bed.

She’s got shit to do, people to kill, laps to run.

She’s always up before you are. She sees the time as crucial training hours. By the time everyone else is up she’s already ready to go.

Some mornings she’ll have you get up with her. She has some really interesting of waking you up though.

Most of the time she just stares at you and slowly moves her face closer to yours until you finally stir.

As much as you love her you explain that awaking to someone bent over staring at you isn’t your ideal morning.

Her other methods include holding a knife to your throat, or pouring water onto your face.

One day you’ll learn the importance of these crucial morning hours.

Karlach

It isn’t impossible to sneak out of bed with Karlach, as long as you’re quiet and you replace your place in her arms with a carefully arranged Clive.

You think you’ve succeeded, lacing up your boots sitting on the edge of the bed… until you feel a tail curl around your waist.

You gently stroke the tail, coaxing her into letting you go. It only makes her tighten her grip and pull you closer.

“I know you’re not about to try and sneak out of here before the bloody sunrise,” she mumbles groggily.

As she pulls you closer to her body, you feel the warmth radiating off of her.

How could anyone be expected to subject themselves to freezing winter morning when they have a comfy furnace of a girlfriend begging them to stay in bed?

You sigh, kicking off your half-laced boots and burying yourself back into her embrace.

She yawns and stretches, pulling you back against her chest as she relaxes.

You used to be a morning person, but gods be damned if you’re ever going to crawl out of bed before sunrise again when this is the alternative.

Minthara

Minthara only trances for a couple of hours, so it’s very rare that you get to spend time sleeping, cuddled up to her.

She manages to sneak out of bed impossibly early, and settle down across the room to read a book by candlelight.

She hardly notices when you get up, all groggy and still wrapped in blankets and ask her to come back to bed.

“You can bring your candle and your book and whatever. It’s just so empty over there without you.”

She stares at you a moment before closing the book and grabbing the candle.

You smile and jump back into bed. You were honestly kinda shocked that it worked.

Minthara sat against the headboard, allowing you to rest your head against her stomach and wrap your arms around her thighs. She rested the book on your back and continued reading.

You feel safer and more comfortable than ever as you drift back to sleep. Maybe if you ask really nicely, she’d let you do this more often.

Jaheira

You manage to catch Jaheira before she can get out of bed. You wrap your arms around her, clinging to her and preventing her escape.

“I must go cub, the sun is rising. But you may rest for a little while longer.”

You know she would not put up with your whining, and she’d probably make you get up now if you started. Still, you couldn’t help but at least try to plead your case.

“Just a few more minutes?” You ask, looking up at her with the most endearing eyes you can muster. You keep your mouth and nose buried in her stomach.

She smiles and strokes your hair. How is she supposed to resist that precious little face?

“A little while longer and you get up with me,” she bargained.

“Deal,” you agreed, pulling her back into bed. It was no fun to be in bed without her anyway.

[hyperactively-me]

regency era!ghost x reader au (part 4)

The ballroom was a whirlwind of activity, the air alive with a large bustling crowd and an orchestra. Candlelight flickered off the gilded walls, casting a warm glow over the assembly of guests as they twirled and sashayed across the polished marble floor. 

You stand at the edge of the ballroom, the soft rustle of your gown mingling with the hum of the music. Despite your best efforts to put your little incident in the park with the Duke out of your mind, his words still echo in your thoughts, leaving you feeling unsettled and off balance. 

But tonight was not the time to dwell on such matters. Tonight was about revelry and celebration, as well as matching up with potential suitors. Your parents wanted you to go in on your best foot forward after noticing you’ve been off the past few days. And so, with a determined smile, you set out to enjoy the evening to its fullest. 

You mingle amongst the guests, making conversation with old friends and new acquaintances. You were introduced to many eligible bachelors, all with some title or another. Some were quite good company, while others were less than enjoyable. Each vied for your attention, eager to claim a spot on your dance card. Every so often, you looked over your shoulder in hopes of not seeing Duke Riley tonight. 

Soon enough, you found yourself twirling from partner to partner, each dance becoming more lively than the next. Yet, amidst the hustle and bustle of small talk and witty remarks, there was one face that stood out. 

Lord Phillip Graves, with his slicked-back hair and predatory grin, was one of the most sought after bachelors of the season. He made his way towards you with all the subtlety of a prowling lion. You felt a shiver of annoyance run down your spine as he approached, his eyes alight with a hunger that made your skin crawl. 

This was not the first time he had tried to court you. Despite his persistence, you had made it abundantly clear to Lord Graves that you had absolutely no interest in his advances. His sleazy demeanor and reputation as a notorious womanizer made you wary of his intentions. Yet, undeterred by your disinterest, he continues to pursue you with a relentless determination that bordered on pitiful desperation.

As he drew near, you plastered on a polite smile, steeling yourself for yet another encounter with the insufferable nobleman. 

“Ah, there she is,” he purred, his voice dripping with charm. “The belle of the ball herself. Would you do me the honor of a dance, my lady?”

You resist the urge to smack him in response to his saccharine words, instead offering him a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you, Mister Graves, but I’m afraid my dance card is already quite full for the evening,” you reply, hoping to dissuade him from pressing the issue further. 

But Lord Graves was not so easily deterred. With a predatory look in his eye, he leans in closer, his breath hot against your cheek. “Surely you can spare just one dance for me?” he whispers, his words sending bile up your throat.

Before you could respond, a familiar, and not entirely unwelcome, voice rings in your ears.

“The lady’s dance card is indeed full for the rest of the evening.”  

You turn to see the Duke standing right behind you, his expression as unreadable as ever. His intervention was completely unexpected, and you nearly raised your eyebrow in confusion. 

Lord Graves’ eyes narrow, his irritation evident. “And who are you to speak for the lady?” he demands, his voice dripping with contempt.

Simon’s jaw clenches with barely contained patience, his gaze locked with Lord Graves in a battle of wills. 

“I’m the Duke,” he states firmly, his voice authoritarian. “And I can claim the lady’s dance card for the remainder of the evening if I so desire.”

You watch in stunned silence as Simon reaches out and plucks the dance card from your hand, his movements deliberate and possessive. You hold your breath as he scrawls his name across the remaining slots, his actions leaving no room for argument. 

Your eyes flit up to see Graves’ face twist with barely concealed annoyance, but he manages a tight, mocking smile. “Very well, Your Grace. Enjoy your evening.” With that, he turns on his heel and stalks away.

“Come,” he says, his voice softer now, but no less commanding. 

Simon offers his arm, and you eye him wearily, yet nod politely anyway. As you settle your hand around his large bicep, your mind races with questions. He guides you away from the crowd and into a secluded area of the hall.  

Once out of earshot of the other guests, you pull your hand away from his arm and turn to face him, your eyes now ablaze with anger. “What on earth were you thinking?” you demand, your voice low but fierce. “You have no right to act so high-handed, and in front of everyone, no less!”

Simon raises an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by your outburst. “I was merely trying to protect you from—“

“Protect me?” you cut him off, your frustration boiling over, all manners thrown out the window. “From what? From a man who, insufferable as he is, poses no real threat? You used me to take a jab at Lord Graves. How dare you!”

Simon’s expression hardens, his own temper flaring up. “Graves is a scoundrel, and I will not stand by and watch him attempt to manipulate you or take advantage of you.”

“Oh really? And what about you?” you retort, stepping closer. “Do you think your actions tonight were any less manipulative? You commandeered my entire evening without so much as asking if I agreed to it! You’ve treated me as if I were your property, and it’s unacceptable!” 

Simon’s eyes darken, a flicker of something like regret passing through them. “I did not intend for you to feel like property. My intentions were to keep you safe—” 

“Safe?” you echo incredulously. “And yet, on top of that, you’ve compromised my reputation. A single woman alone with a bachelor in a secluded corner— do you realize how inappropriate this is as well?” 

His jaw clenches, and he takes a deep breath, struggling to maintain his composure. “I did what I thought was necessary.”

“Well, your ‘necessity’ has only created more problems,” you snap, pointing a gloved finger into his chest. “If you truly wanted to help me, you should have asked what I wanted. Instead, you acted according to your own whims, completely disregarding my feelings and my autonomy!” 

Simon’s eyes widen slightly, taken aback by the intensity of your words. He had never seen you this brutally honesty before, and it stirred something within him. He stands there, shoulders rigid, struggling to maintain his stern facade; something akin to shame crosses his face. He was a man used to command and control, not to be questioned, especially by someone of your stature. But here you were, staring him down with a blaze in your eyes that he found oddly captivating. For a moment, he seems at a loss for words, his usually sharp tongue rendered mute by your reprimand. 

“I… I apologize,” he finally admits, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. “I acted without considering your wellbeing, and for that, I’m sorry. It was not my place to decide for you.” 

Your anger still simmered, but his apology, unexpected as it was, gave you pause. You sigh, folding your arms across your chest. “I am perfectly capable of handling myself. If I need your help, I will ask for it. Until then, please, respect my independence.” 

His eyes search yours, and for the first time, you saw something beyond the cold, unyielding exterior— a hint of vulnerability, perhaps. It was something you hadn’t anticipated.

“I will respect your wishes,” Simon says quietly, his voice sincere. “But know that my intentions were never to undermine you. I merely wanted to—“

“To what?” you interrupt, but this time your voice is soft. “To ‘protect me’? From what, exactly? Yes, Mister Graves is intolerable, but I can handle men like him.”

Simon’s jaw tightens. “I merely wanted to protect you from anything that might harm you. The world is full of dangers, seen and unseen. And despite my faults, and no matter how you regard me, I do not wish to see you hurt.” 

You raise an eyebrow, surprised at that admission. “Why do you care, Mister Riley? You hardly know me, and ever since we’ve met, you’ve treated me with disdain.”

A muscle twitches in Simon’s cheek. “Perhaps I do not know you, my lady, but you deserve to be honored and protected. Forgive me for my abhorrent behavior. There is no excuse for it. I am not accustomed to this… world of balls and social niceties. I am a soldier, and in war, we act swiftly to protect.” 

You blink, swallowing thickly. There was a raw honesty in his words that left you momentarily speechless. Slowly, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your anger cooling. His sincerity shows you a different side of him, painting a different picture of the man you thought he was. 

“I appreciate your concern,” you say, your voice soft and slow. “But I am not a soldier on your battlefield. I am a woman who is capable of fending for myself. And, if it ever so happens that I do need your help, I will make it known to you."

Simon’s gaze meets yours again, and this time there’s a depth of emotion there that you haven’t seen before. “You’re capable, and I admire that. But that doesn’t mean you should have to fend off predators alone.”

The words hang between you, and for a moment, the tension eases. You study his face, searching for any sign of deceit, but all you find is earnestness. It’s disarming.

“Thank you,” you say after a pause, “Next time, if you would like to help, ask me first.”

“You have my word.”

You let out a small sigh, nodding your head. “Good.” After another moment, you look at him. "I forgive you."

The tension between you eases slightly, though the air remains charged with unspoken sentiments and unresolved emotions. You turn to leave, but Simon gently takes your hand, stopping you in your tracks.

You look down, his thick fingers closing around your hand. You stare at them for a moment too long, a stray thought crossing your mind. 

“I would like to make it up to you,” he says, his voice hard, yet earnest. 

You remove your attention from his fingers, looking up to meet his eyes. His thumb rubs over the satin that covers your knuckles. 

“Allow me to dance with you.” 

Humming, you raise an eyebrow, skeptical. “And if I refuse?” 

“Then I’ll respect your decision.” He pauses, tilting his head. “But I hope you won’t.”

You feel as though the wind has been knocked from your lungs. The uncharacteristic sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you find yourself at a loss for words. 

You consider his offer, the tension between you still palpable. Yet, there’s a part of you that’s curious, intrigued by this side of Simon you haven’t seen before; you decide to take it slow, to not reveal too much to him. 

With a tiny, hesitant smile, you nod your head in agreement. “Well, since you’ve already commandeered my dance card, we might as well make the most of it,” you state simply. 

A flash of something like relief briefly crosses his features, though he quickly masks it with his usual stoicism. “Thank you, my lady.”

With that, he offers you his arm. His bicep bulges under his dress jacket, and an unexpected heat creeps up your neck. The satin of your glove allows your arm to glide through his with ease, fabrics pressing into one another. You never really noticed how firm his muscle is, causing electricity to shoot down your spine. The heat of his body radiates into you as he unexpectedly pulls you closer into his side, leading you to the dance floor in time for an English country dance. (y’all stay with me here, I’m envisioning the dance Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth have together in P&P 2005)

As you and Simon step onto the marble floor, the orchestra transitions into a lively melody, infusing the air with excitement. 

Simon’s hand rests confidently yet gently on your waist as he leads you through the movements of the dance, his touch sending a jolt of warmth coursing through your veins. At first, you were skeptical of this man's dancing skills, certain he would make a fool out of you on the dance floor, yet, to your surprise, he takes the lead confidently.

For a man as lumbering and large as he is, he is uncharacteristically light-footed when it comes to dancing. You would’ve never thought he possessed the skill. 

He never let you mis-step, keeping his gaze locked on your face the whole time. With every meeting in the middle, you swore his face inched closer and closer to yours. With each turn and twirl, you find yourself inching closer to Simon, the space between you narrowing until there's nothing left but the heat of his body pressed against yours. His hand slides lower on your waist, toying with the sash thats wrapped around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as the room falls away, leaving only the two of you locked in a rather sensual embrace.

And in that moment, as the music reaches its end and the world fades into oblivion, a terrifying realization dawns upon you: there's no place you'd rather be than in the Duke's arms.

part 3 < > part 5

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Toto's obsession p.5

Hey guyss, I hope you enjoy this part and if you've missed part 4 or if you want to read it from the beginning here's my masterlist :)

Toto’s hand rested on the small of your back as he led you through the airport, his touch reassuring and steady. You still didn’t know where you were going, only that Toto had told you to pack for a few days and that it would be somewhere quiet, away from all the noise and tension. A getaway, he had said, just the two of you. And after everything that had happened, it was hard to argue. You needed the break.

The private plane hummed beneath you as you sat by the window, looking out at the clouds as they flew by. The adrenaline from the past few days still hadn’t worn off, your mind swirling with thoughts of George—how upset he had been, how distant he seemed. Every time you thought about it, your chest tightened with guilt.

As if sensing your unease, Toto’s hand found yours, his fingers threading through yours with a gentle squeeze. “Relax, love,” he murmured softly, leaning closer. “This trip is for you to unwind. No distractions.”

You gave him a small smile, though the worry still lingered in your eyes. “I know,” you whispered, trying to believe it. “It’s just… I hate how things are with George. I miss him.”

Toto’s jaw tightened, though he kept his expression smooth. “You’ll talk to him when we get back,” he said calmly, brushing his thumb over your hand. “Right now, let’s focus on us.”

You nodded, leaning into his touch as the plane continued its journey. It wasn’t long before you landed in Switzerland, the cool, crisp mountain air greeting you as soon as you stepped off the plane. The drive to the secluded cabin was peaceful, winding through tall pine trees and snow-dusted mountains, the view breathtaking. It felt like you were in another world, far from the drama that had plagued you in the paddock.

The cabin itself was beautiful—cozy and warm, with a large fireplace in the living room and big windows that looked out over the snow-capped peaks. You couldn’t help but feel a little lighter, the weight of everything beginning to lift as you stepped inside.

Toto watched you with a small smile as you wandered through the cabin, taking it all in. “I thought you’d like it here,” he said, his voice soft but proud.

“It’s beautiful,” you replied, a real smile tugging at your lips for the first time in days. “I love it.”

He came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. “Good,” he murmured against your neck, pressing a soft kiss to your skin. “This place is ours for the next few days. No distractions. Just us.”

You leaned into him, grateful for the escape. But even as you tried to relax, the thought of George kept creeping back into your mind. You hadn’t heard from him since the fight, and the silence was gnawing at you.

“I should try calling George again,” you muttered, almost to yourself, as you started to pull your phone out of your pocket.

But Toto was quick, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice low and coaxing. “Later,” he said softly, turning you around to face him. “Right now, I want to spend time with you.” His hands cupped your face gently, his eyes locking with yours. “Let me take care of you, Y/N.”

You hesitated for a moment, but the warmth in his gaze, the soft press of his lips against yours, made it hard to resist. Every time you thought about George, Toto seemed to sense it, always distracting you with a kiss, a gentle touch, or a change of subject. And every time, you let it go, pushing the worry aside for another moment, lost in the way Toto made you feel safe, cared for.

The days passed in a blissful haze. You and Toto spent your time wrapped up in each other, away from the world. Long walks through the snowy woods, late-night talks by the fire, dinners by candlelight, and stolen kisses in the quiet warmth of the cabin. Each time you thought about George, Toto was there to distract you, pulling you back into the present, into him.

But what you didn’t know—what you couldn’t know—was that George had been trying to reach you. Desperately. He had called, texted, even tried sending messages through others. But every call went unanswered, every message lost in the void, blocked before it could ever reach you.

Toto had made sure of that.

On the last night in the cabin, you sat together on the couch, the fire crackling softly in the background. You rested your head on Toto’s shoulder, your legs curled up beside you as you both stared into the flames.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Toto murmured, his voice soft but possessive, like the thought of leaving this place, of going back to reality, was unbearable. His hand stroked your arm gently, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

You lifted your head to look at him, your heart swelling at the intensity in his eyes. “Me too,” you whispered, though there was a small part of you that knew you couldn’t stay here forever. You couldn’t avoid George forever. But for now—for just a little longer—you let yourself fall into the fantasy of it all.

Toto’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss, as if he was trying to etch the moment into his memory. “You’re mine,” he whispered against your lips, his voice barely audible but filled with a quiet intensity. “And nothing—no one—will ever come between us.”

You nodded, though you didn’t fully understand the weight of his words. To you, it was just an expression of his love, his protectiveness. But to Toto, it was a promise. He would keep you here, with him, for as long as he could. And as long as George remained out of the picture, he would have you all to himself.

The next morning, as you packed up to leave the cabin, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. It had been perfect—everything you needed to clear your head, to forget the fight with George, to be with Toto. But as you stared out the window at the snow-covered mountains, you knew reality was waiting for you when you returned. George was waiting.

Toto came up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist. “Ready?” he asked, his voice warm, though there was a hint of reluctance there too.

You nodded, but the worry in your chest hadn’t fully faded. “Yeah. I just… I hope George is okay.”

Toto’s grip tightened slightly, and though his expression remained calm, there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes. “Don’t worry about George,” he said, his voice smooth. “We’ll deal with him when we get back. For now, let’s just enjoy the last few moments we have here.”

You nodded again, letting Toto’s words soothe you. But as you left the cabin and headed back to reality, there was a part of you that couldn’t help but wonder if things would ever be the same.

[yourmoonie]

Create your ideal day with your SP - Husband/Wife

༯ 🌹 ༉‧₊˚. ♥️ ⋆.ೃ࿔* 💋 ·˚ ༘ 🍷

An interactive post 🪡

(Use this post to manifest)

You can also reblog your answers with pictures or comment

You’re living in your dream reality, everything feels magical, and your connection is deeper than ever.

What does this day look like?

Let’s create it together! 👇

Step 1: Where are you spending your day together? 🌍

1️⃣ A cozy cabin in the mountains

2️⃣ A luxurious beach resort

3️⃣ Exploring a beautiful city

4️⃣ Staying at home, enjoying the little moments

You’ve picked the perfect setting! 🌟

Now, let’s talk about the vibe of your day.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⨾𓍢ִ໋°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Step 2: What’s the vibe of your day with your perfect partner? 💞

1️⃣ Pure romance (candlelight dinners, slow dancing)

2️⃣ Playful & fun (movies, games, having fun)

3️⃣ Adventurous (hiking, exploring, trying new things)

4️⃣ Relaxing & cozy (cuddling, deep talks, quiet moments)

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Now for the details:

What’s something unforgettable your partner does for you during this dream day? ✨

Do they surprise you with something special, take you somewhere magical, or remind you of how much they love you?

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Let’s see⬇️

Step 3: What special thing does your partner do for you today? 💐

1️⃣ Surprises you with a romantic gift

2️⃣ Plans a dreamy date just for you two

3️⃣ Writes or says the sweetest words

4️⃣ Gives you their full presence and attention

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ﾟ｡⋆˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙—⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

The day isn’t over yet! 🌙

You’re ending the night on a perfect note, feeling loved, connected, and happy.

How do you imagine spending the evening with your partner?

˚.⋆°❀⋆.ೃﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ་༘࿐ `⋆°❀⋆

Step 4: How are you ending your perfect day with your partner? 🌌

1️⃣ Watching the stars together, talking for hours

2️⃣ A romantic dinner under candlelight

3️⃣ Dancing in the living room to your favorite song

4️⃣ Cuddling up in bed, feeling safe and loved

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧🩷˚.🎀༘⋆༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧

Your perfect day with your dream partner is complete 💕

Feel the love, happiness, and connection as if it’s happening right now.

It’s all yours to experience.

What part of your dream day stood out the most to you? Let me know! 🌟

[dadsbongos]

something about king touden

910 words / warnings - you're touden sibling, written in first pov through kabru, lets pretend incest wasn't common in monarchies

summary - your brother said people can have their opinions on you, but you didn't expect most of Laios' subjects to have an opinion.

kinktober: day fifteen - faux/!ncest ~~~

ENTRY 1 - YEAR 515. HANDMAIDEN’S HUNCH.

Something terrible was whispered to me today. I don’t want to believe it, but the horror with which this woman told me her story- I fear I have no choice but to at least give it heed.

The king -Laios- Laios’ handmaid says she saw our king with his young sibling. Not Falin, the other one. Says his large hand hovered over their knee and he moved it up their thigh in a most unfamilial way; more like some common man in a sleazy bar. Apparently he was transfixed upon the sight, groping and smoothing his thumb all down the fatty inside. 

Then the young Touden leaned up to kiss our king’s cheek. 

She told me she ran out soon after, and I chose to not pursue any conspiracy or theories. For now just to soothe the poor maiden I’ll have documented her experience.

Perhaps she didn’t see correctly.

ENTRY 2 - YEAR 515. CHEF’S CHARY.

There’s been another incident.

Senshi’s apprentice has taken to commanding the kitchen on his mentor’s days away. He told me he had planned on sweeping the area early, far before sunrise when he heard quiet giggling. Thinking it two stray maids, he was prepared to burst in when he noticed Laios’ hair glittering in faint candlelight. A common gossiper, he admits, he snuck quietly to see if the king had been entangled in an affair.

He says he saw the young Touden sibling, sitting on one of the counters with spread legs; and our king between them. Laios’ hands were perched upon his own sibling’s hips and his thumbs were scrubbing so familiarly beneath their nightshirt. The younger Touden had their own hands on king Laios’ neck. 

He, the apprentice, told me he sat there for many minutes. Watching. Listening. Though he couldn’t hear much of what the siblings were saying, he insists it was nothing wholesome by the overwhelming red on our king’s cheeks. Or by the sultry giggles let out by the younger Touden. 

Most horrific, he claims, was the obvious erection in king Laios’ loose trousers.

ENTRY 3 - YEAR 516. CITIZENS’ CONCERN.

I am at my wits end with my king.

If he’s going to be indecent he shouldn’t stand on the balcony. He shouldn’t have stood there like a dolt with an open, billowing shirt with loose ties whisping in the wind. 

Many people came at me and said they were appalled, and I cannot blame them. 

Many accounts at the same time repeating the same thing in my ears:

King Laios was in a state of sorry dress. King Laios was clutching the rail, hurled over the edge in disarray. King Laios was red in the face.

Hair tousled. Mouth agape with the most ghoulish, animalistic noises hissing out. And a few of the more curious folk said they spotted the wheatfield golden hair from his flexing stomach downward his groin. Most obviously, he was receiving fellatio. 

And most terribly, two from the group said it appeared his fingers were tangled into overly familiar hair. The hair upon the youngest Touden’s head.

He was pulling and lulling, cooing down at an unseen face -- flushed and sweaty and drooling onto the soft protrusions of his hips. Those two could spot fingertips trailing up his sensitive thighs; even teasing up his stomach -one of the pair claimed they saw the ambiguous hand tweak his nipple.  

Apparently, king Laios was in such pleasure he was calling aloud wantonly, and he was singing the worst name possible. I’m sure they misheard it. I’m sure even my infamously awkward and bizarre king isn’t that away with society. 

Laios cannot be demented enough to have his cock sucked by his own sibling on the public balcony.

ENTRY 4 - I SAW IT MYSELF!

I’ve prayed for the strength and resilience to defend my king.

And yet he disappoints me as though the act is his lifeblood. As though he must act on this disheartening cycle just to torture me.

I’ve seen it now, with my own terrible eyes. I was a fool and I came into the king’s chambers early morning without announcement. 

A terrible thing to see is my king’s bare skin -- his back is broad and stretched over two legs tied around his waist. I could hear the moans and growls of ecstacy so vividly and I could see his visitor’s nails painting pink lines all down his skin. I could see telltale violet lovebites swelling to life. His name was bouncing off the walls violently, croaked and stressed with every tense of the legs thrown over Laios. And Laios bent down to swallow every cry, tonguing even more free with each kiss -- it was desperate and pathetic and almost enviable in pure passion.

Until I saw the face he was kissing -who the hole he was fucking belonged to.

They threw themselves upon him, arms laced around his neck, and it was the single person I was trying to deny Laios of this whole time. 

The youngest Touden. Wailing their own brother’s name -begging for more and harder and faster. 

Now I’m a witness; I cried in terror, shrieking for them to stop, and they did not. As if neither of them heard my call whatsoever. It was sloppy and desperate, no rhythm -I shudder to think they might’ve been at their ends upon having an audience.

I pray they learn more discretion. 

And I fucking hate Laios.

[icyg4l]

PAC: What Will Your Next Date Be Like?

Hello beautiful people! As promised, this is the second PAC regarding love that will be indulged in. Tonight, I will be giving insight on what you can expect from your next date. I will be using my True Heart Tarot Deck and my handy dandy Romance Angels Oracle Deck. Don’t forget to tune into Five Dollar Friday and please book a reading with me if you are interested 🫶 Without further ado, please select your pile!

Left-to-Right: (1-4)

Pile One: When I was shuffling for your pile, I started singing and being really goofy. I feel like you could be going on a date with a Gemini, Aquarius or a Leo. This person is gonna make your inner child come out! You might be a little uptight at first on some ‘I Don’t Dance’ (Chad and Ryan type shit) but this person is gonna make you put your ego aside. I also channeled Suit and Tie. You guys could go karaoking, go to a dance class, or you could be someone’s date to a wedding. Or it could even be a bar date! I feel like you really need this, Pile One. Your energy feels stiff and stagnant. You deserve a night out. Maybe this person isn’t your usual type or they’ll have to grow on you but by the end of the night, you’ll want to be around them. You don’t have to push this person away because they’re not who your parents/family would approve of. Your family could be going through some issues right now. Maybe you aren’t going to be feeling them because you don’t want to break your celibacy. Your energy seems new like you’re young and inexperienced or you’ve taken a pause from dating to focus on yourself. Now you feel refreshed. I also channeled the song ‘Not Used to It’ by Kehlani. I feel like this person will be very well-mannered and that’ll throw you off. Maybe you’ve had partners who were very rude and disrespectful in the past and now you feel suspicious. Feel them out! Don’t knock it until you try it! I pulled oracle cards from you and got the following messages:

“You deserve love: You are lovable.

Healing family issues: your love life benefits you as you forgive your parents.

Attraction: You attract romantic love by enjoying this moment fully

Religious factors: Your love life is influenced by your religious upbringing and spiritual path.

Love yourself first: Your self respect makes you more romantically attractive

Honeymoon: Enjoy the bliss of holiday time together”

Cards Used: The Hanged Man (RX), 10 of Discs, 7 of Wands, 3 of Cups, The High Priestess, Queen of Wands, Death, Ace of Cups.

extras: ‘no more drama’ by mary j blige. breath of fresh air. new bras. emptying out the trash. haute couture. piercing gaze.

Pile Two: I feel like this pile will be very nervous for this date. For one, there may be some things that make you feel like you shouldn’t be going on this date. For instance, it’s last minute and you would have to move your schedule around or you get a traffic ticket. I also feel like somebody will be late to the date because of traffic. But when the actual date starts, I feel like it’ll be dark. Perhaps in a movie theatre or a candlelight dinner. Or maybe the date will be late at night. I get the feeling that you will meet this person off of Tinder or some dating app. When you meet them, you’ll be stunned by how attractive they are. The sexual tension will be strong. I am seeing lace and the colors black and red in my third eye. I feel like some of you will get dolled up after a long, hard day of work and you’ll agree to go because you have a feeling that this is something you’re supposed to do. And you should because being all work and no play is draining! Perhaps some of you are single moms or work with children. I wouldn’t be surprised if a child tried to get involved with your dating life, lol (a child trying to play matchmaker with you and their dad). “It’s been a long time coming” is something I’ve heard. Maybe it’s been a minute since you’ve been on the dating scene, welcome back! Also, this date could end in great pleasure. Please stay prepared and protected, lol. Scorpio and Capricorn energy. I pulled some cards and got the following messages:

“Children: Your love life is being affected by children.

You deserve love: You are lovable!

New love: A new person has stirred your romantic feelings

Attraction: You attract romantic love by enjoying this moment fully

Finances and career: Financial issues are a factor in your love life right now

Passion: Allow your heart and soul to sing with joy!”

Cards Used: Nine of Wands, The Empress, 10 of Swords, The High Priestess, 7 of Cups, The Devil, 2 of Cups, 4 of Discs.

extras: oklahoma. channing tatum. body-to-body. aura.

Pile Three: You’ve been waiting for this for a long time, haven’t you, Pile Three? I feel like you’ve been manifesting a date but everytime you get close, it falls through. You might be socially awkward. I think your date will be able to tell this through the date. Don’t start off too intense, you don’t want to scare the hoes! I feel like during this date you will both be intoxicated, or high to be specific. It feels like this will happen at nighttime. Perhaps y’all will be at a hookah lounge, bar, or a restaurant where edibles are served. Perhaps going to the planetarium (while high) I feel like you could even get high with this person after the OG date (be careful, lol). This feels really intimate. They might find a reason to touch you like fix your shirt or tuck your hair behind your ear. I think you’re going to be seeing this person on the low as well. Don’t plan on telling your friends about this person. I’m not going to lie, I feel like you’re going to get ghosted. But at least you got what you wanted! Either that or you guys will end up together but there will be some distance between the two of you. Or you will get along so much but personal goals aren’t aligned fully and you two will wish each other the best. Taurus and Pisces energy is very significant here with this person. I pulled some cards from my oracle deck got the following messages:

“Religious factors: Your love life is influenced by your religious upbringing and spiritual path

Worth waiting for: Divine timing is at work in your love life.

It is safe for you to love: Open your heart to give and receive the highest of all.

Heart-to-heart conversations: Honestly discuss your feeling with each other

Calling in your soulmate: Your prayers, affirmations and visualizations help bring you together

Separation: Time apart from your partner is on the horizon”

Cards Used: Death, The High Priestess, Four of Wands, Seven of Swords, Queen of Wands, Queen of Swords (RX), 7 of Discs, Ace of Wands, Two of Wands, The Moon, 4 of Discs, 2 of Cups (RX).

extras: saturn. determination. “you can do it!”. anthropology major. sacrifices. nathan from insecure.

Pile Four: Okay last and final pile! Your pile felt very different. I feel like this pile is religious or has strong religious roots. I think that you’ll be going on a date with your ex, lmao. But I think this will be the goodbye date to be honest or it’ll be a signifier of the end. I think that you’ll be going to a carnival, a festival, a concert, go-karting, zip lining or something of the sort. Somewhere that’s high energy and will have your blood pumping. I think you’re going to realize you no longer want them as much you wanted them in the past. Whoever they are, they’re a huge flirt! You have a lot of chemistry with this person and it will be easy to talk to them (per usual). Big Aries & Libra energy. I think you’re going to see them differently because of a conversation that you have. You’re on two different wavelengths and that’s okay. Maybe y’all have spent some time apart and they aren’t the same. This is also okay. It’s all apart of the learning and growing process. Learn when to walk away. I think this person is going to step on your toes on accident and make you mad or make you cry. They’re going to comfort you but this is going to make you realize that y’all don’t need to be together. But at least you’ll know where this person’s head at from the last break y’all took. They seem immature. I pulled some oracle cards for you and got the following messages:

“Love yourself first: Your self-respect makes you more romantically attractive.

Forgiving and Learning: As you release and heal the past, you experience more love in your present moments.

Flirt: Extend your lighthearted energy to others

Reconciliation: Someone from your past is returning to your life

Chemistry: There’s a strong magnetic attraction here

Pay attention to the red flags: The signs are cautioning you”

Cards Used: The Star (RX), Ace of Swords, 2 of Swords, 5 of Cups, 3 of Wands, 4 of Wands, Death, Queen of Wands (RX).

extras: CVS. valentine’s day. last christmas by wham. church by bj the chicago kid. “get into it, yuh.” bald cap method. “cori.” empty condom boxes.

[tanjamikaelson]

BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER - CHAPTER 4

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 4: | BABY BLUE |

You hadn’t seen or heard from Sarah or Rafe for almost a day, and it left a nagging feeling in your chest. Usually, Sarah would text you, even if just to check in, but this silence was unsettling. Now, you were getting ready to head over to the Cameron household for dinner. Your parents were close friends with theirs, so these dinners were a regular occurrence, but tonight felt different. There was an odd tension in the air, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was brewing beneath the surface.

As soon as you stepped through the front door of their grand house and exchanged polite greetings with everyone, Sarah was by your side, grabbing your hand and pulling you away before you could even settle in. “Come on, we need to talk,” she whispered urgently, leading you to a quiet corner of the house where you could have some privacy.

“Sarah, where the hell were you yesterday? You said we would go shopping!” you asked, your voice tinged with both frustration and concern. She’d left you hanging without a word, and you had spent most of the day wondering what could have happened.

Sarah’s face softened with guilt as she glanced down, her fingers fidgeting nervously. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that...” she began, her voice carrying genuine regret. “But something happened.”

Your curiosity was piqued immediately. “What?” you asked, leaning in, your mind racing with possibilities.

“I was at Chappell Hill with John B,” she admitted, almost too casually for the weight of her words.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “At Chappell Hill with John B?” You repeated her words, trying to see if you heard them right.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Sarah confirmed, her expression brightening.

“What were you doing with him?” you asked, your confusion growing. John B was trouble, everyone knew that. You couldn’t imagine what Sarah would be doing with him.

“It’s not important,” she dismissed with a wave of her hand. “I just had to show him something.” Then her face lit up with a sudden, almost shy smile. “And we kissed.”

Her confession hit you like a tidal wave. “You kissed John B?” you exclaimed, the words escaping your mouth before you could temper your reaction.

“Shhh!” Sarah hushed you, laughing softly as she looked around to make sure no one overheard. You could see the happiness radiating from her, a glow that you hadn’t seen in a long time.

“But you’re with Topper?” you said, more of a question than a statement. The last thing you wanted was for her to get hurt, tangled up in something messy.

“I know. I think I’ll break up with him,” Sarah said, her voice steady, though you could see the conflict in her eyes. “I like John B.”

You took a deep breath, considering her words. It was clear from the way she was looking at you, from the excitement in her voice, that this was real for her. “I mean, if he makes you happier, then you should do it,” you encouraged, knowing that whatever happened, you’d support her.

Before Sarah could respond, you both heard Rose calling from downstairs, letting you know that dinner was ready. You exchanged a quick look, Sarah’s eyes filled with a mix of excitement and nervousness about what she’d just shared. You offered her a reassuring smile before heading down together.

The dining room was elegant, filled with the soft glow of candlelight and the murmur of polite conversation. You found yourself seated between Sarah and Wheezie, with Rafe directly across from you. You tried to ignore the way your pulse quickened at the sight of him, your mind flashing back to the last time you were alone together. His intense gaze met yours for a brief moment before you both quickly looked away, pretending as if there wasn’t a charged energy between you.

Your mother and Rose were chatting about the upcoming Midsummers event, the highlight of the season, and the conversation naturally turned to what everyone would be wearing. “So, what kind of dress will you wear?” Rose asked, her tone polite and curious.

“I got this beautiful baby blue dress...” you began, but as the words left your mouth, your eyes met Rafe’s again. His eyes gleamed with recognition, a knowing glint in their depths.

“I thought you would wear a purple dress,” Sarah said, her voice cutting through the moment, pulling your attention back to her.

“I couldn’t find any purple dress I liked,” you replied with a small shrug, but the truth was, the moment you saw Rafe’s suit hanging in his room, you knew you wanted to match him.

Wheezie’s voice chimed in, bright and mischievous. “You’ll match Rafe.”

You turned to her, pretending to be surprised. “I will?” you asked, feigning innocence even though you knew exactly what you were doing.

“The two of you will have to take a picture together,” your mother suggested, her voice filled with that parental enthusiasm for staged photographs and picture-perfect moments.

Rafe noticed Sarah’s eyes roll, the irritation clear on her face. He knew what she was thinking—that people were blind to who he really was. If they saw the darkness inside him, they’d never want you near him. But Rafe wasn’t willing to give you up just because of his past or because of who he was. Not when he was finally beginning to feel something real.

You glanced at Rafe, catching the smirk tugging at his lips, his eyes still locked on you. “I guess we will take a picture,” you said, challenging him with your gaze and waiting for his response.

“Yeah, sure,” Rafe replied, his voice calm but his eyes burning into you. He knew what you were doing, knew that your choice to wear blue was no accident. You were claiming a connection, one that no one else knew about.

Wheezie giggled. “You two will look like a couple.”

“Oh, please, they won’t.” Sarah snapped, unable to listen to it any longer. Her voice was sharper than she intended, and it hung awkwardly in the air.

Rafe’s eyes narrowed as he looked at his sister, irritation flaring. He hated how much she didn’t want you and him to be together. He knew it would tear you between your best friend and him, and that thought scared him more than he’d admit. What if you chose her?

“What’s so wrong if we do?” Rafe’s words slipped out before he could think them through, his frustration bubbling over.

Sarah’s eyes snapped to him, a fire blazing in them. “She’s my best friend.”

Rafe chuckled darkly, a bitterness in his tone that he didn’t bother to hide. “So?”

Did she really think that would stop him?

Sarah’s voice rose, her words coming out in a rush, exposing all the reasons she thought you shouldn’t be anywhere near him. “You would be a bad influence. You do drugs, Rafe, and you have anger issues.”

Rafe’s laugh was hollow, echoing in the silence that followed. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, the truth of her words hitting harder than he wanted to admit. Without another word, he pushed his chair back and stood up, his movements tense, barely controlled. He walked away, his back stiff, his footsteps heavy with the weight of everything unspoken.

You watched him go, a sinking feeling in your chest. You knew how much Sarah’s words had hurt him, and it hurt you too, because despite everything, despite who he was, you cared about him.

You watched Rafe’s retreating figure, your heart clenching as he disappeared down the hallway. Every instinct told you to get up, to go after him, to comfort him, to let him know that you understood, that you were on his side. But you couldn’t—not here, not now. Not with everyone watching, their eyes ready to pick apart every glance, every word exchanged. If you followed him, it would be like putting a spotlight on whatever was brewing between the two of you, exposing it to the harsh light of their judgment.

So, you stayed put, your fingers gripping the edge of the table as you tried to steady yourself. The lively conversation around you felt distant like it was happening in another room. Laughter, idle chatter—it all blurred together, meaningless against the storm of thoughts and emotions swirling inside you.

You pushed your food around your plate, your appetite gone. The delicious aroma of Rose’s carefully prepared meal didn’t register; all you could think about was the look on Rafe’s face before he left. Hurt. Anger. A flicker of something raw and vulnerable that he usually kept buried deep beneath the surface. It was rare to see him like that, stripped of his usual bravado and arrogance, and it tore at you in a way you couldn’t explain.

You felt Sarah shift beside you, her presence heavy with the unspoken tension between you. She was talking to your mother, laughing about something Wheezie had said, but you could feel her watching you out of the corner of her eye, checking for cracks in your composure. She didn’t know, couldn’t know, how badly her words had wounded Rafe, how they echoed things he probably told himself late at night when no one else was around.

You tried to focus on the conversation and tried to catch snippets here and there, but it was useless. Your thoughts kept drifting back to Rafe—his expression, the way he’d stalked off, shoulders tense, like he was carrying the weight of the world on them. You wondered what he was doing now. Was he in his room, trying to calm down? Or maybe he’d gone outside, away from everyone, where the shadows would offer some solace?

The thought of him being alone, stewing in his emotions, made your chest ache. You knew him well enough to know that his temper was a beast he wrestled with constantly. And tonight, it felt like that beast had been poked and prodded until it was ready to snap. He’d done his best to rein it in, to keep from blowing up in front of everyone, but you could see how close he was to losing it.

“Y/N, are you okay?” your mother’s voice cut through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. You looked up, realizing she’d been speaking to you. The concern in her eyes was clear, her brow furrowed as she studied your face.

You forced a smile, hoping it looked more genuine than it felt. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just... tired, I guess.” It wasn’t a total lie. The emotional rollercoaster of the past few days had drained you and left you feeling frayed and on edge.

“If you’re not feeling well, you can head home,” Rose offered kindly, her eyes flicking to Sarah and then back to you. “We won’t be offended, dear.”

Sarah looked at you too, her eyes searching. “Yeah, you don’t look great. Maybe you should go.”

You shook your head, mustering up another weak smile. “No, it’s okay. I’m just not that hungry.” It was the truth. The food sat like lead on your plate, untouched except for the fork marks where you’d absently poked at it. You tried to think of something else to say, something to shift the focus off of you, but your mind was still tangled up in thoughts of Rafe.

Wheezie, oblivious to the undercurrents running through the room, started talking about some drama at school, and you let her voice wash over you, nodding at the right moments but not really hearing a word she said. Your eyes drifted to where Rafe had disappeared, the hallway that led to the back of the house, to his room, to the places he went when he needed to be alone.

You wondered what would happen if you just got up and walked after him. Would anyone follow? Would they understand? The thought of everyone’s eyes on you, of Sarah’s confusion turning to anger, of Rose and your parents exchanging worried looks—it kept you rooted in place. You couldn’t risk it. Not now. Not until you and Rafe had figured out what this was, what you were.

The rest of dinner passed in a blur, your responses automatic, your laughter forced. When the meal finally came to an end, you felt like you could finally breathe again. Plates were cleared, conversations shifted to lighter topics, and you managed to make your excuses, saying you needed some air.

As you stepped outside, the cool night air hit your face, a welcome relief from the stifling tension inside. You walked to the edge of the porch, leaning against the railing, staring out at the darkened landscape. The sky was dotted with stars, and the distant sound of the waves crashing against the shore was almost soothing.

You let out a long breath, your shoulders slumping as you tried to shake off the weight pressing down on you. Part of you wanted to go find Rafe, to talk to him, to let him know that you were there, that you understood. But another part—the part that was scared of what this meant, of what Sarah would think, of what you were getting yourself into—kept you rooted in place.

For now, all you could do was wait. Wait and hope that, somehow, you and Rafe could figure this out without everything falling apart.

TAGS: @wearemadeofstardust0 @dominicfikexoxo @thepopcultureaddict @deeznuggetsbebussin

[marshmallow-phd]

A Manor of Shadow and Blood

Genre: Regency Gothic AU

Pairing: EXO x Reader

Summary: A stormy night brought you to the manor in the middle of the woods. Nine strange men occupied its halls. They won’t let you leave. A dangerous secret haunts this estate. Learning it might either be your saving grace or it could lead to the last breath you ever take.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5

**

The grand hall was lit as bright as midday. Every surface was polished to perfection, reflecting the candlelight at a greater force. Brilliant brass and gold surrounded you as you made your way through the dancing couples, their movements in perfect sync. Wrapped in each other's arms, they spin around without a care for your wandering presence. 

While all who surrounded you were decorated in blacks and whites, your own dress was the color of freshly spilled blood. The heavy skirts that hug from your waist made it difficult to navigate the ballroom. Their fullness was of an older fashion, one that maybe your grandmother would have worn in her youth. The dropped shoulders left you exposed, your skin chilled despite the amount of bodies in here. 

You kept navigating the dance floor, on the look out for something, though you didn’t know what. Then you felt the familiar burn of eyes boring into your back, which sent a shiver down your spine. You whirled around to find the source, the dress brushing at your feet with the sudden motion. Through the crowd, you spotted Baekhyun leaning against the wall. With a single finger, he beckoned you over. And you obeyed. 

Breaking through the sea of dancers, you took in his elegant suit, the hems lined with gold thread that shimmered against black velvet. 

"You shouldn't dance alone," he purred. Arms crossed over his chest, he smirked at you with a grin even the devil wouldn't wear.

"I have no partner," you retorted. He held out a lazy hard. Hardly the romantic gesture. "No, thank you." 

"How about me?" asked a sweet voice in your ear. 

You turned your head to find Junmyeon at your back. He laid a soft hand on your hip to keep you from escaping out of propriety. When you didn’t shove him away, the hand slyly moved to your stomach, pulling your bare shoulder blades into his chest. With the fingers of his left hand, he tilted your chin towards him. 

"Am I a suitable partner?" 

No answer passed your lips. You could think of nothing to say. The thought of him twirling you around the dance floor was not… unpleasant. 

Junmyeon neither needed nor cared for a reply. He dipped his head to your shoulder and pressed a kiss to the skin. A small gasp passed your lips. And then he pressed another. More and more as he climbed up the curve of your neck. Heat rose from every inch of you as you sighed into the affectionate touches. You relaxed into his touch, welcoming each new contact of his lips. 

"It's rude not to share, Junmyeon.”

Your attention snapped back to Baekhyun, who you had forgotten was there. He pushed himself off the wall and stepped closer to you so he stood in front of the minor. 

No, not a mirror. There was no reflection. 

Except… there was. The mirror reflected the floor, the ceiling, the candlelight. You. 

But not Baekhyun. Not Junmyeon. And not the dancers still spinning behind you. 

Fingers snaked through your hair and pulled your head back, your vulnerable neck exposed. From the gallery above, Kyungsoo watched as elongated fangs flashed behind Junmyeon’s lips and plunged into your neck. 

*****

You woke with a start, the blanket flying off of you as you sat up in a fury. Sweet drenched every pore of your skin. Your day old dress clung to your skin in a way that felt suffocating. Each breath was a struggle for your lungs. 

Vampires. The nightmarish tale that had kept you up as a child until you were convinced they weren't real turned out to be true. But how could they be real? 

Creatures of the night. Blood drinkers. Horror stories meant to keep children from wandering about after dark. 

Curling your legs to your chest and encasing them in your arms, you tried to think of a way out. To escape. With what strength you possessed, you slid off the bed and walked over to the window. The sun, so bright and full of life, was just beginning its descent towards the horizon. Night–their domain–was hours away. If the legends were true, then they would all be asleep at this moment. Any risk that was to be taken had to be taken now. 

After changing into a sturdier dress, you retrieved your still mud-covered boots and, keeping them in one hand, you carefully pushed away the pathetic barrier and snuck out of the room. 

Each step was taken with unmatched caution. You tested every board with your foot before fully committing. Any squeak of a floor or stumble down a stair could alert them to your escape. But by the grace of a miracle, you made it to the front door. Fingers trembling, you pulled on the boots and tied up the laces before opening the door only wide enough for you to slink through. 

The next breath taken outside was like the first breath of life. But there was no time to take it in. 

Gathering your skirts in your grip, you took off into the trees. The dirt was dry and sturdy under your feet. Branches and leaves crunched with the weight of your boots. A lady’s delicacy was out of the question as you ran without abandon. You didn't know what direction you were running. But vampires needed blood to survive and they weren’t drinking yours. And Jongdae had brought those buns from a bakery, not their own kitchen. You doubted any of them knew how to cook. That meant a village or town had to be nearby. Junmyeon had lied about the isolation of the manor. If you just kept going, you could find freedom. 

However, your stamina was running out. This was never your preferred activity. Your lungs and throat burned in an unfamiliar way. The sun still shined above. A short respite could be spared. 

You leaned against a tree trunk for support. In your boots your feet pulsed. Only now did you realize that you had run away without food or water. Not knowing where the kitchen was located, you didn't have time to waste on it. You could survive, you told yourself. Just a little farther. The town couldn’t be too far. Unless you were headed in the wrong direction. 

A rustling rippled through the silent forest. You snapped to attention, trying to find the source. 

“The wind,” you gasped between ragged breaths. “It had to be the wind.” 

A low, rumbling growl said it wasn't wind. 

In the distance, large silhouettes emerged. Wolves. Nearly a dozen of them. 

You ran as fast as your crying legs could take you. With their superior nature built for the hunt, the wolves caught up to you within seconds. Their growls and howls grew louder and more threatening behind you. Running from the manor had been easy. Running from the wolves was to be your end. 

Powerful paws slammed into your back. You were thrown to the ground, rolling across the ground as a scream ripped at your throat. The momentum stopped you on your stomach. Hair covered your face, but you could still see your death through the strands. 

Wolves of gray and black gathered in a half moon circle. They had their prey in perfect position. The middle wolf pounced. All you had time to do was throw up your arms to protect your face. Claws raked across your forearm. Another scream echoed through the merciless trees. The wolf landed on the other side of you with pride. Now you were surrounded. A second wolf leapt. 

A blur appeared in front of you and collided with the wolf midair. The two bodies tumbled across the forest floor. A human and the wolf. 

Not a human. 

Chanyeol. The wolf trapped within his grasp, Chanyeol tightened his grip–

Crack. 

The wolf fell limply to the ground, its tongue hanging from its jaw. 

The others appeared seconds later. Not understanding what they were up against, the wolves let you go to attack the newest threat. 

"Are you alright?" Junmyeon knelt down in front of you. His hands were outstretched as if you were the wild animal on the verge of attack. Behind him, snarls and whimpers told of the fight–and who was winning. Despite not answering him, he caught sight of your bleeding arm. "We need to get back to the manor." 

He didn't ask permission before picking you up into his arms and sprinting through the forest. Everything blurred past you, your loose hair whipping at your face. He burst through the manor doors and didn't stop until he was able to set you down in the largest chair. Once you were safe, he fell to his knees, only his palms keeping him upright. The others soon stumbled in behind him, heaving and collapsing onto the floor. Only then did you notice the smoke floating up from each of their backs. Patches of burnt, red skin sizzled on their knuckles and faces. Anything that had been exposed to the sun. 

"Baekhyun," Junmyeon gasped. 

"I already have it." Kyungsoo came into the parlor with bottles stacked in his arms. He quickly passed them around, waiting until the others were quenching their thirst before pulling the cork out of his own bottle and chugging the contents. 

With his bottle empty, Junmyeon tossed it to the side and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Red smears stained the ivory fabric. You shrank back in the chair as he turned towards you. 

"What hell were you thinking!" He growled. "I warned you about the wolves!" 

"Junmyeon, she's shaken up enough," Jongdae defended. Before your eyes, his burnt skin healed to be like new.

"She could have been killed!" 

Your head was pounding. He was… concerned about your life? The legends said that the sun was a vampire's deadliest enemy. It was why they thrived in the darkness. But they had all risked a final death to come after you. 

"Did you hear me scream?" you whispered. You could barely feel your own lips moving. All heads tuned to you. 

Yixing was the one to answer. "Yes. We all heard you." 

"Why were you out there?" Sehun asked aggressively.

You sucked in a sharp breath. There was no escaping the truth now. You stared at Jongdae. "I figured it out.” 

Baekhyun laughed. "At least we don't have to walk around delicately anymore." 

"When exactly did you do so?" Minseok mocked.

"Then you should remember what I said to you before was true. Harm would not come to you within these walls." Junmyeon crouched down next to the chair. His eyes... there was something behind the darkness that tugged at your still wildly beating heart. "I know you were running away. And if you're desperate to get away enough to get yourself killed, then the choice can be yours. We can send you on your way with every provision. Or," he cleared his throat, "you stay here. With us." 

A choice? He was giving you a choice?

Your gaze drifted over the faces that stared back at you. Even Kyungsoo refused to look away while he waited. There was almost a plea in his expression, a subtle beg. But was it to stay? Or for you to run as far away as possible? 

Junmeyon took your attention away when he picked up your wounded arm with delicate fingers. His pleading was much more clear. 

To leave would be the better choice. The more sane choice. But what would happen afterwards? You could claim being lost in the woods. With evidence of the carriage and the missing driver, what else could they believe? After a few days on bed rest, you would be back by your aunt's side, following her every whim. Including indulging her on a "perfectly adequate" suitor because you had no other option, no other path. That suitor who would then become your future. But you didn't want it. You refused to give in to it. 

Already within these few days, you were… changed in a way. They might not be human, but these men would forever be burned into your memory. Who could move you with music the way Chanyeol had? What silent strength could match the aura of Junmyeon? You had been promised that none of them would harm you. The chance for something extraordinary was right in front of you. The kind of chance you had only read about. It just had to be taken.

"I think… I think I want to stay."

*****

The moon became an ever changing friend. You hardly saw the sun anymore. Like the men you had given yourself over to, you lived under the stars. It was oddly beautiful. This time was often forgotten about by you and many others. The night was only a background to your time within your dreams. But now it was your entire world. 

Every evening, you awoke to the dying orange light of the day. Breakfast always waited for you outside the door. It was the rule that no one broke; none could enter your room without explicit permission from you. Those walls remained your safe haven when things grew too overwhelming. 

Despite your decision to stay, discovering that other creatures walked the earth required a step away once in a while. Especially now, with you aware of their true nature, the men were refusing to hold back. 

Dropping from the roof, running around with spectacular speed, and lifting objects that ten men couldn't hold. It was remarkable. Except for the diet and inability to walk in the sun, the… condition seemed more like a blessing.

"You're rather thoughtful this evening,” Jongdae commented. He walked beside you like he did every twilight. 

After you finished your breakfast, you met Jongae at the front doors to go on a walk around the manor grounds. Often others would join you as well. Junmyeon was the most frequent, though Yixing, Changed, and Jongin made many appearances over the past week and a half. Boundaries were constantly tested, but one word from you and they retreated.

"I guess you could say I am thoughtful tonight," you finally sighed. You hadn’t realized that you were being so obviously quiet. Funny, since you would have thought Jongdae would enjoy the silence. You typically had many questions or comments of your own to make. 

"Should I go steal a penny from Sehun?" 

You laughed. "I'd like to think my thoughts are worth more than a single penny.”

"They must be if you've become so skilled in deflecting from them." He crossed over to block your path. Gaze narrowed, he studied your carefully guarded expression. "What are you thinking about so hard? Regretting your decision to stay already?" 

"No," you insisted. "Not at all."

He raised an eyebrow that simply asked, "Then what?" 

"Do you always stay here?" you countered. "At the manor, I mean." 

"We travel," Jongdae answered with a nod. "Not too often. It’s a bit difficult, you see."

"But we like traveling north.” Minseok dropped from who-knew-where, landing with barely bent knees and hands folded behind his back. "In the winter, the night lasts longer. Junmyeon has a small hunting lodge up there. 

A hunting lodge? "Then why do you stay here?" 

Minsoek shrugged. "This manor is bigger." 

"Having nine of us in one household can be a bit volatile,” Jongdae added. He stepped aside to continue the stroll. "We need the room to separate so we don't level a building." 

Your foot caught on an invisible lump in the grass. "You could destroy a building while fighting?" 

Minseok snickered as he caught your stumble and helped steady your stance. His hand lingered at your waist until your sharpened glare made him remove it. "We haven’t crumbled a wall in a few years."

You scoffed at the casual tone. "What sort of fight caused that?" 

"I can't remember." Minseok leaned forward slightly to look at Jongdae for help. But he didn't seem to recall either. 

"Who knows what started it between Chanyeol and Kyungsoo.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock. Kyungsoo and Chanyeol had fought over something to the point of destroying a wall to crumble? It didn't feel plausible. Neither seemed like the hot-headed sort. You wanted to know the igniting incident so desperately. 

Both Jongdae and Minseok suddenly whipped their heads towards the front of the manor. 

"What is it?" you asked when neither offered an explanation. 

"Junmyeon's calling for us." Jongdae scooped you up into his arms without warning. At your confused expression, he explained, "We're not leaving you alone out here." Remember your last adventure in the woods lingered in the silence.

The short lived wind whipped at your hair that you still wore loose to cover your neck. As soon as he stopped running, you wiggled out of his arms to be back on your feet. Everyone else was already gathered just outside the door. Several eyed you and Jongdae with suspicious and annoyed glares. You took a step away from him for some separation. 

Clearing his throat, Junmyeon called everyone to attention. "We have to go hunting–real hunting. Now, normally, we all go together, but now that we have our guest," he nodded towards you, "some will have to stay behind with her until the first party… comes back." 

"If you all need to go,” you couldn't quite speak the word feed, "then I'll be alright. For a few hours, at least." You weren't sure how long this excursion would take.

Junmyeon's features softened. "No. We'll go in groups. Chanyeol, Kyungsoo, Minseok and I will go first. We shouldn't be gone long." He reached out and patted the top of your head before disappearing into the trees. Kyungsoo gave no goodbye as he followed suit. The last two playfully shoved each other while taking off. 

"Come." Yixing took hold of your hand and started pulling you inside. "I want to show you something."

"But–" You had wanted to ask Jongdae a question, but the traitor was already gone, off somewhere to do something he would never tell you about. So, you let Yixing take you into the manor and up the main staircase at the end of the hallway. At least he let you stay on your own feet instead of insisting on going at his speed. 

Going down an unfamiliar hallway, you were reminded how big this place was and how much you still had to explore. The men occupied most of your time, vying for your attention and pulling you this way and that so you didn’t have much time on your own. It was odd and overwhelming at times. 

During your seasons in town, you were hardly a well-sought after prize. There were prettier girls with grander dowries. You had accepted that fact. Now you were the center of a courting dance to which you knew none of the steps and possessed endless partners. 

Yixing paused in front of a door that looked identical to all the others. He kept his fingers tight around yours as he slowly turned the knob with his free hand. The door swung open. 

The gasp inhaled through your parted lips wasn't enough to convey your awe. 

Maps of all the places you'd heard of and dozens more you hadn't covered the walls like homemade wallpaper. Slipping out of Yixing's grip, you walked further into the study, spinning slowly around to take it all in. The maps were varying degrees of tan, some as light as his skin, others as dark as animal leather. 

Instead of bookshelves, doorless cabinets waist high lined three of the walls. Their squared shelves were stuffed full of parchment and ink and quills. A lone sketcher's desk sat in the middle, an unfinished drawing laying against the tilted surface. 

"What is this place?"

"It's my personal study," Yixing answered as he laid a hand on the edge of the desk. "Kyungsoo gave it to me after I had accidentally taken over one of the parlors." 

Your awe increased ten-fold. Your initial assumption was that he was a collector, not the original artist. "You drew all of these?" 

He nodded almost... shyly. "I did. I was a cartographer. Before." 

"Before?" You understood what he meant, but you didn't know how to ask for the story. 

Turning his eyes to the parchment, he pinched it between his fingers. "I didn't just love traveling. I loved capturing it on paper. I wanted to make these places into art, but not like every other painting. I wanted them to be perfect. Exact replicas as if you were staying at them from God’s point of view. And I wanted to be the best. I couldn't be, though. I wasn’t good enough." 

You moved closer to him, entranced in the story. "What happened?"

A rueful smile tightened at his lips. "I was given a chance to become perfect. What I didn't know was that I traded everyone knowing my maps for the talent to make it happen." Sorrow rolled from him like the tide warning of an oncoming storm. 

Feeling the pull to comfort him, you reached out and covered his fidgeting hand with your own steady fingers.

"People will be able to know your work some day," you whispered. "I’m sure of it." 

Perhaps you had been a bit too forward, a bit too open. 

Yixing moved gracefully forward to eliminate most of the space between you. A smooth thumb that once must have been calloused when it was human caressed the edge of your jaw. His flickering eyes made intentions obvious. 

Clearing your throat, you stepped out of the touch. "Why isn't this one finished?" You pointed to the drawing on the desk. It was an aerial view of the manor, with the top half of the parchment containing the beginning edges of the garden hedges. Disappointed, Yixing sighed and went along with your distraction. 

"I'm still working out the maze. It is intricate. Much more than I was prepared for." 

"Goodness." You were thankful that you hadn't wandered in there yet, especially on your own.

"Yixing.” 

Both of you turned towards the door to find Sehun standing under the frame. 

"Yes, Sehun?" Yixing said through somewhat gritted teeth. The young vampire wasn't phased. 

"I need to speak with you." 

"Fine." None of you moved. 

Sehun looked at you with a pointed glare.

You received the hint loud and clear. "I'll leave you, then.” 

With more relief than you cared to admit, you scurried out of the room and down the hallway. 

Around the corner, you pressed your back against the wall and forced yourself to take deep breaths that filled your lungs to capacity. Panic had been the response at Yixing's closeness. You didn't mean for that to be the response. You didn't want to be closed off to any of them. But you couldn't help it. Maybe it was merely the closeness of the situation. 

Giving yourself a small amount of grace, you pushed off the wall and made your way downstairs. So used to your time being absorbed by the men that you weren't sure what to do with yourself. Two of the ones that remained behind were currently occupied. As for the three others, they could have been anywhere. 

You wandered around the main floor with a fleeting hope that one would come to find you. Then you saw them. A row of grand doors evenly spaced along the north wall called you forward.

The grand ballroom took your breath away. Not so dissimilar to the one in your dream, though this one’s lack of warmth and light left you heartbroken. Memories of dancing figures and lively music haunted these walls. In the corner, you could imagine a small orchestra strumming their instruments in delight. 

You walked to the center where dozens of pairs used to twirl and bow and embrace each other in time with the melody. Ghostly laughter echoed in your ears. What had once been  bright and golden and full of life was dull, dark, and covered in cobwebs that swayed in the breeze of unknown origin. 

Glancing around, you confirmed that you were truly alone before closing your eyes, lifting your arms, and began a soft hum. 

You danced with an invisible partner in the fashion that your grandfather had taught you as a small child. It was more intimate than the choreographed dances currently popularized. You had always imagined your first ball like this, instead of the disappointment you really experienced. You had pictured a boy you didn’t know catching your eye. As the music was struck up, he laid a hand on your waist.

Just like now. 

Hm. Your imagination was running wild, even pretending the weight of a palm was there on your lower back. And now in your lifted left hand. 

No. That wasn’t your imagination. 

Your eyes snapped open. 

Jongin had taken the place of your imagined partner. He smiled down at you with a feline smirk as his hands tightened around you, refusing to let you slip away. There was no choice in leaving this musicless dance. You had stopped humming but he continued to whirl you around the marble floor. He controlled the dance, in charge of every step. He led with an expertise he shouldn’t have possessed–if he were a man of this age. 

In one final move, he slipped his arm fully around your waist, pulling you so close that no room remained between you. Without breaking the spin, he lifted you from the floor as if you were no more than a kitten and whirled you around like the heroine from your favorite novel.

When the spin came to a close, he set you back on your feet, but didn’t let go. Your lungs heaved from the exercise–and from the way your bodies pressed together. Each rise of your chest brought you even closer to Jongin. He kept your gaze like a stablehand trying to calm a wild horse. His right hand slipped from your fingers, softly tracing the delicate inside of your arm. The touch left behind a fire you couldn’t explain. A cold, simmering fire.

He cupped your jaw as his eyes drifted down to your lips. This was a different reaction to Yixing’s wandering gaze. Not panic, but something similar. 

Jongin held you in place as he leaned down, his lips pressing gently into the corner of yours. The thin breath in your lungs hitched. He lifted his lips only to find a new patch of skin. The delicate skin covering your pulse. Every muscle in your body froze. He kissed the skin softly. Surely, he could feel the race of your blood. 

“Whenever you need a partner,” he said in a hush against your neck, “just whisper my name.”

And then, he was gone. 

You stared off at the empty path left behind Jongin. The sheer hubris.

His name lingered on your lips, wondering if he would really come back like he said. But you kept the whisper inside and left the ballroom just the same. 

[her-satanic-wiles]

Kinktober Day 4 - Topping from the Bottom

Dewdrop x GN!Reader

After a long day at rehearsals, Dewdrop just wants to be spoiled.

Masterlist ⛧ Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Words: 3.9k.

Reading Time: 16 min.

Warnings: dom/sub dynamic, edging, handjob, switch!Dewdrop, switch!Reader, teasing, topping from the bottom,

Taglist: @akayuki56 @alien-the-ghost @amazing-bobinsky @angellayercake @anonymous-appreciation @babydestinyinfluencer @bitchywitchygardener @blossomsea @call-me-little-sunshine84 @copiaspet622 @copiasslut @cosmixxdust @da-rulah @dolceterzo @dopey-fandom-girl @faithisyours @ghoulishxdelights @high-above-the-city @howlingco @inkstainedrat @kaijukimchi @kenken-the-shoggoth @ledger-kaos @magopi @megachaoticstupid @meliza1001 @miss-leto @mommy-dust @neganwifey25-blog @piaart @saintbowie @shycardinale @sisterof-sin @sister-of-sin-claudia @sodoswitchimage @the-did-i-ask @xiyingly @zombiesnips-blog

🔞 MDNI 🔞

The soft flicker of candlelight danced across the room, casting shadows that swayed with the rhythm of their breathing. Dewdrop knelt on the bed, his wrists loosely bound in front of him, his head tilted in playful submission. Yet, the glint in his eyes betrayed something else—something that hinted at a power simmering just below the surface.

He was naked, his cock hanging hard with his balls resting on his thigh. His eyes were wide and innocent, a little black from the makeup he wore beneath his mask, but he was very clearly ready and waiting for you. Calloused fingers clamped against each other to keep his loosely bound wrists where you expected them to be, but you both knew that just a little maneuvering would have him escaping his bonds and lunging at you. Perhaps there was a part of you that wanted that, but for now, you were switching roles. Tonight you were serving a different purpose.

“Ready to play, are we?” Your voice was steady, commanding, but you could already feel the control slipping through your fingers. Dewdrop was always like this—obedient in appearance - especially outside the bedroom - but undeniably in charge of every moment you shared.

“I’m yours,” he murmured, the words soft but carrying a trace of challenge. His lips curled into a knowing smile as he shifted slightly, just enough to tease you, to push you in that way he always did. His tone was nonchalant, as if he didn’t believe that you could top him like this. As if he knew that you were better suited beneath him, taking everything he gave you with a stuttered and breathless “thank you” falling from your pretty little mouth as you bounced on his cock. But, no. Not tonight. Tonight he’d be the one whimpering and begging for release. It was his turn.

You stepped forward, a deliberate pace meant to assert dominance, but even as you stood over him, the smirk on Dewdrop’s face told you who really held the reins. His gaze trailed lazily over you, as if he was sizing you up, testing your resolve.

“Go on then,” he teased, voice barely above a whisper, “do whatever you want.”

The permission felt wrong—like a challenge disguised as submission. You reached down, fingers trailing along his jaw before gripping it lightly. His skin was warm beneath your touch, his breath hitching in a way that made you think you were in charge. But you knew better. Even bound, even kneeling, Dewdrop was directing every move, his body language coaxing you into decisions that weren’t entirely yours.

You tightened your hold, leaning closer. “I thought you were supposed to be the one following orders,” you murmured.

Dewdrop’s smirk widened. “I am. But maybe I’m just better at giving you what you want.”

The air between you thickened, the power play unfolding in every glance, every touch. When you pushed him down onto the mattress, he went easily, the fabric around his wrists barely a hindrance, but the way his body moved suggested that he was letting you think you had control.

Your hand trailed down his chest, teasing, testing. Each time you slowed, his hips shifted, ever so slightly, guiding your touch exactly where he wanted it to go. It was infuriating, the way he seemed to command you without a word, without so much as a direct request.

“You’re not as clever as you think,” you muttered, but your voice lacked conviction.

“Oh?” Dewdrop arched his back just enough to press into your touch. “Then why are you doing exactly what I want?”

You removed your hand from his body, a smirk playing on your lips as you watched his fade. He hadn’t expected this.

“Then maybe I just won’t do anything,” you taunted, your voice low and teasing. “Maybe I’ll leave you here: hard and wanting. Maybe, I’ll wait until you beg for it.”

Dewdrop’s eyes narrowed, his playful expression faltering for just a moment. He shifted, testing the restraints on his wrists, but said nothing. Silence hung in the air between you, thick and charged.

You tilted your head, taking in the way his breathing had quickened ever so slightly, the way his chest rose and fell. “What’s the matter?” you asked, feigning innocence. “Weren’t you the one who said I could do whatever I want?”

His lips parted as though he was about to respond, but you cut him off, stepping back, leaving a small distance between your bodies. The loss of contact was palpable, and you could see the frustration flickering in his eyes. You had him where you wanted him now—a little off balance, forced to give up just enough control to stay in the game.

“Is this what you wanted, Dewdrop?” you continued, your voice almost a purr. “For me to take charge? Because if it is, you’re going to have to work for it.”

Dewdrop shifted again, his muscles tense under the thin fabric clinging to his skin. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and when he finally spoke, his voice was softer, but still held that familiar edge. “You don’t think I’ll give you what you want?”

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider it. “I think you’re going to have to beg me first.”

The smirk returned to his face, smaller this time, but still there. “Is that so?” His voice dripped with challenge, and you could see the gears turning in his head, already figuring out how to turn this situation back to his advantage. But you were ready for him.

You ran your thumb over the head of his cock, gathering the sticky precum onto the pad and watching the string pull and snap the further away you pulled. At your touch directly on his most sensitive spot, Dewdrop hissed but continued to say nothing. He was sure to be as defiant as you were… which meant the two of you were in for a long night.

“Still silent?” you asked, a wicked grin spreading across your face. “I’m surprised. I thought you liked to talk.”

Dewdrop’s gaze flickered to yours, a mixture of defiance and desire swirling in his eyes. He shifted again, the slight movement betraying the frustration building within him. “Talking is overrated,” he finally replied, voice low and sultry, as if he was savouring each word.

You chuckled, intrigued by his determination. “Is that right? Well, I suppose silence has its own charms.” You traced your thumb over him again, applying just enough pressure to elicit another sharp intake of breath. “But I wonder how long that will last.”

As you continued to tease him, you felt the tension in the room shift. Dewdrop’s defiance was becoming harder to maintain, and you could see the fight beginning to ebb away. The playful power struggle had morphed into something deeper, more intense, as you both pushed him closer to the edge.

You placed all your fingers on his head and began to massage upwards, making Dewdrop’s hips buck up to chase the pleasure. “Ah!” he whimpered, but it was a little too quiet for your liking.

“Beg for it, Dewdrop,” you urged, your voice a sultry whisper. “Let me hear how much you want this.”

His eyes narrowed, and for a fleeting moment, you saw the flicker of vulnerability beneath his bravado. But he was quick to mask it, his lips curling into a defiant smirk. “You’ll have to try harder than that.”

A spark of challenge ignited within you. You loved this game, the way it stretched out and twisted, teasing both of you with possibilities. “Oh, I will. But don’t think you’ll like where this is going.”

With that, you slid your hand away completely, leaving him aching and wanting, just as you’d promised. The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken words and simmering tension. Dewdrop’s gaze bore into you, filled with a mixture of frustration and anticipation, as if daring you to make the next move.

You kept your hand close, hovering just above Dewdrop’s aching length, your fingertips grazing him only lightly enough to remind him of what he couldn’t have. Each time you allowed the slightest touch, you could feel his body tremble, muscles tensing in anticipation. But just when he thought you’d finally give him more, you’d pull away, leaving him stranded on the edge of relief.

His chest rose and fell, breaths shallow and quick, the only sound in the room the occasional ragged exhale or the quiet rustle of fabric beneath him. You leaned in again, this time tracing a slow, deliberate line from his base to the sensitive tip, your thumb circling there just enough to draw another shaky breath from his lips. His hips jerked instinctively, chasing your touch, but you pulled away, watching the frustration bloom across his features.

For a moment, you did nothing, letting him sit in that torturous in-between, his desire palpable in every twitch of his body. Then, without warning, you pressed your hand back to him, more firmly this time, rubbing your thumb over his slick head again, collecting the precum as if you were savouring every ounce of control you had over him. Dewdrop let out a low moan, a desperate sound that made your heart pound in response.

But you didn’t let him have it. Each time his breathing hitched, each time his hips lifted just slightly, you withdrew, leaving him wanting more. His body was tense, strained, the frustration evident in every line of his form as he battled the desire clawing at him. You could feel his resolve weakening, even though he hadn’t said a word.

Your fingers traced down the length of him again, teasingly slow, before pulling away entirely, the absence of your touch now more torturous than before. He moaned again, louder this time, the sound filled with a mix of pleasure and frustration. His chest heaved, his back arching slightly off the bed as if his body was pleading for what his lips refused to beg for.

You smiled, watching as his frustration deepened, knowing it was only a matter of time.

“You’re going to h-have to touch me at some point,” Dewdrop grumbled, his breaths coming out heavy but he tried so hard to keep his voice level and not at all reflect how overwhelmed he was feeling.

You merely raised an eyebrow at Dewdrop’s grumbled words, a teasing smile playing on your lips. His heavy breaths spoke volumes, even as he fought to keep his voice steady. It was adorable how he tried to maintain an air of nonchalance, yet his body betrayed him with every slight movement, every sharp intake of breath that slipped past his control.

Ignoring his comment, you leaned in closer, your breath mingling with his as you hovered just above him. You traced your fingertips along his inner thigh, teasingly close to where he needed you the most. The way his muscles tensed beneath your touch made your pulse quicken, his body responding to you in ways he couldn’t hide.

“Is that what you think?” you murmured, your voice low and playful. “That I’ll give in just because you ask?”

Dewdrop’s brows knitted together, frustration flickering in his eyes. His hips shifted slightly, yearning for contact, and you could see the struggle etched on his face. “I—”

But before he could finish, you slipped your fingers back to him, pressing against his length again, firm yet maddeningly slow. His breath hitched, a low moan escaping him as your touch ignited that familiar spark of pleasure. You enjoyed the way he melted at your fingertips, even if he tried to mask it.

Yet you pulled away again, letting the heat of your touch linger in the air, and watched as Dewdrop’s expression shifted from frustration to desperation. He grumbled again, his voice catching slightly as he fought against the sensations overwhelming him.

“Please… you know you want to.” His voice trembled slightly, but the defiance still lingered there, even as his body betrayed him, betraying just how much he craved more.

You smirked, fully aware of the power you held. “You’re going to have to wait a little longer,” you teased, drawing out the moment as you watched him squirm beneath you, caught between his own frustration and desire.

Dewdrop’s breaths quickened, and with each teasing touch you allowed, you felt the tension between you both escalate, a potent mix of longing and challenge that promised a night filled with pleasure and patience—one that he would ultimately surrender to.

You continued your torment, drawing your fingers back, letting the heat of your touch linger just out of reach. Dewdrop’s breath came in quick bursts, each one heavier than the last, and you could see the flicker of desperation in his eyes.

“Come on,” he urged, voice laced with frustration. “Just a little more… please.”

But you merely smiled, enjoying the power you wielded over him. “Please what, Dewdrop?” you asked, dragging your fingers slowly along the length of him, teasingly close but not quite touching the sensitive spots that craved attention.

His brow furrowed, lips parting as he struggled to maintain composure. “I need you to touch me,” he finally gasped, the defiance slipping away with every moment of restraint. “I can’t take much more of this.”

You paused, allowing the silence to stretch between you, watching as he shifted restlessly. “Can’t take much more of what? The anticipation? The waiting?”

Dewdrop’s frustration boiled over, and with a breathless moan, he finally gave in. “Please! I need you,” he begged, his voice a mixture of pleading and desperation, each word laced with urgency. “I’ll do anything… just touch me.”

His confession hung in the air, raw and honest, and your heart raced at the sight of him so vulnerable, stripped of all bravado. You leaned closer, letting your breath ghost over his skin, teasing him with proximity but still holding back.

“Anything?” you echoed, a smirk tugging at your lips. “What if I want you to beg a little more? Show me how much you want it.”

Dewdrop whimpered, eyes widening as he realised just how far you were willing to push him. “I can’t… please, just give me what I want,” he implored, his voice wavering as the urgency grew stronger. “I promise I’ll be good. Just touch me… I can’t stand it any longer.”

The fire in his eyes ignited something within you, and you felt the weight of his need press against you like a tidal wave. With a final, calculated pause, you finally relented, allowing your fingers to wrap around him once more, moving with just the right amount of pressure.

As you began to stroke him, Dewdrop let out a low, relieved moan, his body instinctively arching into your touch, desperate and responsive to the sensation he’d been craving.

With your fingers finally wrapped around him, you felt Dewdrop’s body respond eagerly, his hips bucking instinctively as you began to stroke him. The tension that had been building finally found its release, and a deep, throaty moan spilled from his lips, echoing through the room like music to your ears.

You maintained a steady rhythm, your grip firm yet teasingly gentle, ensuring he felt every sensation, every flick of your wrist. You watched as his eyes fluttered shut, mouth parting slightly, the vulnerability in his expression making your heart race. He was completely at your mercy, and the knowledge sent a thrill through you.

But you weren’t ready to give him everything just yet. You slowed your movements, pulling back just enough to keep him on that razor’s edge, teetering between pleasure and frustration. “What’s the matter, Dewdrop?” you taunted softly, your voice low and sultry. “You seemed so eager just a moment ago.”

He opened his eyes, the desperation clear in their depths. “Don’t you dare stop,” he gasped, the plea laced with a hint of panic. “I can’t h-hold on much lo-oh! Longer!”

You chuckled lightly, enjoying the way his body reacted to your every move. “And here I thought you liked a challenge,” you replied, giving him a particularly slow stroke that made him writhe beneath your touch.

“Please,” he begged again, voice trembling with need. “I n-need you to—”

Before he could finish, you tightened your grip, quickening your pace just enough to send him spiralling back towards the edge. The room filled with the sound of his moans, each one more desperate than the last, and you could feel the tension in his body coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap.

With each stroke, you could sense him nearing the brink. His breath came in sharp gasps, the flush creeping up his neck betraying just how close he was. “I’m so-oh close,” he whimpered, eyes glazed over with pleasure. “Don’t st-stop. Fuck! Please… don’t stop!”

But you had other plans. Just as you felt him teetering on the edge, you suddenly pulled your hand away completely, leaving him gasping and desperate, his body arching towards you in a silent plea for more.

“Please!” Dewdrop moaned, frustration spilling over into his voice. “You can’t just leave me like this!”

You leaned in, capturing his gaze with yours, a wicked grin on your lips. “I can. And I will. But only if you beg for it.”

Dewdrop’s eyes widened, a mixture of disbelief and pleading swirling within their depths. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he gasped, frustration lacing his tone. “Please, I’ll do anything! Just give me what I need.”

You watched him closely, a thrill racing through you at the sight of his vulnerability laid bare. It was intoxicating to see someone so proud and headstrong reduced to this, teetering on the brink of surrender. “Anything?” you repeated, your voice low and teasing, drawing out the moment as you gauged his resolve.

“Yes! Just please t-touch me again!” he begged, voice shaky and raw, the urgency evident as he squirmed beneath you, the need etched into every line of his body.

You could sense the desperation radiating from him, and it made your heart race. “What if I want you to beg just a little more?” you said, leaning closer to him, letting your breath wash over his skin. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the way his body ached for your touch.

His lips parted, but no words came out at first. You could see the struggle within him as he fought against his pride, wanting to reclaim control yet desperately wanting to succumb to your desires. “I… I need you,” he finally managed to stammer, the raw honesty in his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“Need me? Tell me how much you need it,” you pressed, your tone playful yet commanding, wanting to draw out the intensity of the moment as he wrestled with his own desires.

“I need you to touch me! I can’t take it anymore!” His voice broke, the strain evident as he looked at you with wide, pleading eyes. “Please, I’m begging you. Just give me what I want!”

With that, you finally relented. You took his pleading words as your cue, wrapping your fingers around him once more, this time with a firm grip that left no room for teasing. You began to stroke him steadily, quickening your pace as you brought him closer to the edge.

“Oh fu-ucking hell!” He groaned, hips shifting and chasing your hand every time you lifted off him. “So g-good. So… so fucking good.”

Dewdrop’s moans filled the air, each one more desperate than the last, echoing off the walls as you worked him closer to his release. His body tensed, muscles coiling like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap at any moment.

“Please… don’t stop,” he begged again, each word a mixture of pleasure and desperation, as if the very act of begging itself was part of the ecstasy he was experiencing. “I’m so close—”

As you continued to push him towards his peak, you relished the sounds he made, the way his body responded to your every move. You could feel his release building, and the anticipation hung thick in the air, electric and intoxicating.

“Let go for me, Dewdrop,” you urged softly, the command laced with the thrill of power as you watched him unravel beneath your touch.

Dewdrop’s breath came in ragged gasps, each one more frantic than the last as he teetered on the edge of ecstasy. “I can’t hold on… I’m so close,” he moaned, eyes fluttering shut as he surrendered to the sensations coursing through him. His body responded to you with every stroke, the tension coiling tighter and tighter, as if the very act of begging had awakened something primal within him.

“Good,” you murmured, your voice low and sultry, encouraging him further. “I want to hear you. Let it out, Dewdrop. Let me feel how much you need this.”

You quickened your pace, the slick sounds of your movements mingling with his moans, creating a symphony of pleasure that filled the air. Dewdrop’s body writhed beneath your hand, the muscles in his thighs twitching as he fought to maintain control, even as he was pulled closer and closer to the precipice.

“Please… don’t stop!” he gasped, the urgency in his voice sending another thrill through you. “I need you… I need to come!”

You could feel his body responding, the way he tightened around you, his hips thrusting against your hand in desperate rhythm. “That’s it, Dewdrop. Let go for me. I want to see you fall apart,” you urged, your voice dripping with authority.

With one final stroke, you pushed him over the edge. Dewdrop let out a breathless cry, his back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure washed over him. The sight was breathtaking: his face contorted in bliss, his body trembling as he surrendered completely to the release.

You felt him pulse in your hand, the heat of his climax spreading warmth across your skin as he moaned your name, a sound so sweet that it sent a rush of satisfaction through you. You slowed your movements slightly, guiding him through the aftershocks, wanting him to feel every lingering pulse of pleasure.

As he came down from his high, his breathing gradually steadied, and he lay there, panting and blissed out, looking utterly wrecked. You couldn’t help but admire the way he glowed, the satisfaction of having broken him so completely washing over you.

“Did that feel good?” you teased, brushing your fingers lightly along his thigh, relishing the way he shivered at the contact. Dewdrop’s eyes fluttered open, a dazed smile spreading across his face as he nodded slowly.

“Yeah… it felt amazing,” he breathed, the remnants of pleasure still evident in his voice. “You… you really know how to make someone beg.”

You chuckled softly, satisfied with the outcome of your little game. “That was the point, wasn’t it?” You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, enjoying the intimacy of the moment now that the tension had subsided.

Dewdrop’s expression shifted from bliss to mischief, a playful grin dancing on his lips. “I think I’ll need to return the favour,” he said, eyes glinting with newfound determination. “Just you wait.”

Prev./Next

[minovember]

🍂Greetings and welcome! Autumn is in full swing, so just around the corner is a fun little event for Ghost Trick fans new and old...

Minovember is a weekly prompt challenge for November, all about Ghost Trick! The prompts themselves are three a week for optimal freedom of choice. It’s relaxed, so feel free to pick any of these for any week, skip weeks, make art in advance, etc.

Super happy to get this list out early—hopefully it allows for some cushion time to think of ideas and brainstorm! And thank you all once again for the continued excitement as well as the contribution to the prompts this year. It was super fun to put together and I'm stoked to see what comes out of it!

Have a wonderful Halloween and happy almost-Minovember! 🥳

Rules and Prompt list in text form under the read-more

Rules

Who can participate?

Anyone! No signups, so feel free to jump in & out of participation as you please.

What kind of fanwork is allowed?

Any, whether it be art, fic, any sort of physical medium, etc. 

Any rules for following prompts?

Prompts are there for loose inspiration, so no pressure to strictly follow them, but in any case you’re encouraged to specify the prompt you use in a piece when posting (alongside the tag of course)!

You’re encouraged to post fanwork along with the week of the prompt you use, but posting work with prompts from weeks past that you may have missed is totally fine!

2024 Minovember Prompt List

Week 1, Days 1 through 7

Warm clothing

Candlelight

Junk

Week 2, Days 8 through 14

Pets

Home

Favorite trick

Week 3, Days 15 through 21

Dream

Comfort food

Dark depths

Week 4, Days 22 through 28

Partners in crime

Shooting star

Gifts

Days 29 and 30

Autumn fun!

[needlepine]

Decided to do an inktober challenge ON October 1st. Very on brand for me. Regardless! I will be attempting to do cat adopts for every day of October! They will be posted in pairs every other day.

My general adopt rules apply. Please read through before you adopt!

All of these designs will be $25-30. I will also allow pre-claims, if you wanna claim any of these themes before they're designed! If you decide you don't want it after all when the adopt is revealed, no worries! It'll be put up for adoption like normal. Dm me to pre-claim

Also on the off chance anyone wants to use this list, you may! : )

Masterlist/currently claimed themes under the cut

Days 1-2 :

-Deep Sea CLOSED

-Frankenstein CLOSED

Days 3-4 :

-Pumpkin Patch CLOSED

-Foggy Streets CLOSED

Days 5-6 :

-Candy Corn CLOSED

-Chimera CLOSED

Days 7-8 :

-Gravedigger CLOSED

-Church Grim CLOSED

Days 9-10 :

-Medusa CLOSED

-Swamp Monster CLOSED

Days 11-12 :

-Skeleton CLOSED

-Barbarian CLOSED

Days 13-14 :

-Candlelight CLOSED

-Living Reflection CLOSED

Days 15-16 :

-Dead Branches CLOSED

-Headless Horseman CLOSED

Days 17-18 :

-Bedtime Story CLOSED

-Pipe Organ OPEN, $25

Days 19-20 :

-Decay CLOSED

-Bloodbath CLOSED

Days 21-22 :

-Candied Apple CLOSED

-Poison Apple KEEPING

Days 23-24 :

-Will-o-the-Wisp CLOSED

-Alien CLOSED

-BONUS! Alien CLOSED

Days 25-26 :

-Witch's Cauldron CLOSED

-Magic Spell KEEPING

Days 27-29 :

-Banshee CLOSED

-Mummy CLOSED

-Costume Party OPEN, $30

Days 30-31 :

-Trick CLOSED

-Treat CLOSED

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Cinderella Doesn’t Believe in Fairytales (pt 7)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3). (Part 4) (part 5) (part 6)

This, Cinderella thinks, is a fairytale.

The nobles are bowing to the Prince, to her, and the air smells like the desserts on the table to her left. The music is still going, a sweet flute that serves a placeholder until the greetings to the prince are done. Over the bowed heads of the dancers nearest them, Cinderella can see her stepfamily curtsying to the arrival of the Prince.

Curtsying to her.

“I am glad that my tardiness did not hold up the festivities,” the Prince says. He inclines his head to the dais where the Queen and King sit. “We should resume.”

The Queen and King.

The Queen is as beautiful as the rumors say. Her long, black hair, streaked with grey, falls around her shoulders like vines, pinned into curled shapes against her violet gown with pins that sparkle like the night sky. She wears a simple gold circlet that glitters in the candlelight. Is it encrusted in jewels?

The King wears a heavier crown in burnished copper. His eyes remind her of the Prince’s, hawkish and knowing when he looks at them. He’s dressed completely in black except for the sash that crosses his chest. That is the same violet as his wife’s cape and his son’s jacket.

Cinderella is prevented from curtsying by the way the Prince presses her hand against his arm. She bows her head as best she’s able, heart thundering in her chest. Somehow looking at the Queen and King reminds her of the rainbows in the meadow. They swim in her vision as if obscured by power.

“Hold your head high,” the Prince whispers to her. His breath is hot against the shell of her ear and when she glances at him out of her peripherals, his eyes are warm. “You’re with me.”

Cinderella has never been with someone. She’s always been trailing behind, packages in hand, or at their knee with a hairbrush and sewing kit in hand. Even as a little girl she was never with her parents. She always felt like she was a step behind them, watching as the distance between them grew into an ocean.

She doesn’t feel like that now. The Prince’s arm is warm under her fingers and the gaze of so many people makes her face hot even if she knows the Prince’s magic protects her from being recognized. Cinderella has never felt so keenly in her own skin as she does in this moment.

Cinderella pulls her shoulders back and looks right over every noble to the blooming mosaic on the other side of the hall.

Well done, the voice in the back of her head purrs. There’s satisfaction curling in Cinderella’s stomach that feels foreign and heavy. She likes standing tall. She likes feeling bold and confident. Very well done.

“I know I promised you champagne,” the Prince says. He waves his hand and the music begins to play again. The nobles don’t resume their dance right away, their eyes fixed on the Prince’s every move. Expectant? Hopeful? Envious? The Prince only has eyes for her. “But I am jealous your first dance wasn’t with me.”

“Perhaps if someone had been on time it would have been,” Cinderella says. The Prince snorts and Cinderella’s smile widens. “Your highness.”

The Prince leads her onto the dance floor. The band is gently coming together again, string instruments rising underneath the lonely flute, the pianist adjusting on their bench in preparation. The nobles part for them like water, sliding back into their places without a word.

The Prince comes to a halt in the center of the dancefloor. If he notices the way the nobles stare, it doesn’t seem to bother him. He slides his arm out from under Cinderella’s hand, but doesn’t relinquish it. He kiss the back of her hand and asks, “May I have this dance?”

Cinderella must be beet red. She breathes in through her nose and smiles on the exhale. “Yes.” Then, because he is her friend, “You’ll be the first to have a dance from me, if that makes you feel better. The rest only shared one with me.”

Does the Prince’s gaze soften? Candlelight catches in his eyes, setting them ablaze. “Having or sharing, it doesn’t matter,” he says. “As long as it’s with you.”

Cinderella is speechless. The Prince takes the opportunity to sweep them into their first dance together, one hand on her hip, the other still holding her hand aloft. She’s not ready or at all prepared for it and has to rely on his grip for support when she stumbles.

“Where on earth did you learn to talk like that?” Cinderella hisses. She kicks at his shin and scoffs when he evades it easily. “Ugh.”

“I’m fairly certain that’s not how this dance goes,” the Prince says, tone mild. He’s smiling when she turns her glare on him. He whispers, “You’ll need to be faster if you want to kick me.”

Laughter bubbles in her chest. Cinderella fights it down. “You’d better show me how this dance works before I give into the temptation.”

“My pleasure.”

Dancing with the Prince is better than any of the other dances, though she doesn’t think she can bear to tell him that when he’s grinning like he knows it. He doesn’t guide her like Cy, her first masked partner, pulling and navigating her through the steps like a teacher might. He doesn’t make it a competition like Iz did, doesn’t change the rhythm whenever she manages to catch up to his pace. He isn’t considerate like Morrigan, waiting for her to catch her breath after a particularly tricky step.

Dancing with the Prince is like…it’s like being in the meadow. It’s like laying underneath the oak tree and watching the sun through the leaves, his gentle voice in her ear and the feeling of his magic chasing the chill away. It’s the feeling of being together where anything she says or does will be welcome or celebrated.

She doesn’t know when the other dancers join them, but she notices when the Prince nearly runs into a pair. She neatly takes the lead, spinning them to avoid a collision. The Prince startles and then scowls.

“I would have noticed,” he says. His gaze is dark on the dancing couple as if he’d like to curse them for the near accident.

“But you didn’t have to,” Cinderella says. Somehow she knows he isn’t that irritated. She thinks about spinning him but decides against it. She’s never tried spinning her partner before and is afraid of throwing him into the swirls of skirts and tailcoats that now surround them. She follows him away from the couple who nearly collided with them, surrendering the lead easily. “I did.”

“You did,” the Prince says, an inscrutable look on his face. It only lasts for a moment before he’s quirking an eyebrow at her. “Another song?”

Cinderella doesn’t feel tired at all. “Yes.”

They dance.

-----.

The night is a dream.

Cinderella holds onto it even after the Prince escorts her back to the Emerald Castle, after Helga pulls the pins from her hair, after she gulps down water and fruit before climbing into bed. They never did manage to have a glass of champagne. Cinderella can’t bring herself to regret the missed opportunity.

I’ll just have to try it tomorrow, Cinderella thinks with a thrill. Tomorrow. She’s going to the ball tomorrow.

She danced with the Prince all night. He delighted in each song with her, always keeping up with her mood and inviting her into faster steps or higher leaps. They talked and they laughed and, looking back, they must have seemed like children to everyone else. Cinderella felt like a child, free and excited in a way that she hasn’t been allowed to be in a long time.

She closes her eyes and can’t wait for the Prince to come pick her up for the ball tomorrow.

-----.

The carriage lurches and jumps as it transitions from the smooth Royal Road to the rougher cobblestones of the royal town. The silent occupants seem to wake up from their stupors all at once, the jostling as good as cold water on a dreamer.

“Mother,” Drizella whines. She doesn’t understand what went wrong. She did everything her mother said to do! She curled her hair and wore her lilac dress and didn’t dance with anyone other than the Prince. Except— “He only danced with her all night!”

“I have never been so embarrassed,” Anastasia says. She bites her thumb. Visions of the woman in green spin across the back of her eyelids every time she blinks. “We wore the same color! How dare she?!”

Baroness Ramsey doesn’t answer her daughters. She promised herself when she married the Baron that she would never allow anyone to guess at her non-noble past through her conduct. So she lets her face remain impassive and thinks carefully before she speaks.

Inside she is seething.

“That woman was in the wrong,” the Baroness says at last. She lays her hands daintily over her lap. “A ball like this – well. It’s for all noble ladies, isn’t it? The Prince was meant to dance with others. I’m sure the King and Queen will talk with him tonight. Tomorrow…”

She trails off. Her girls misunderstand as she meant them to. They perk up at the mention of tomorrow and the idea that the Prince will be different then. Anastasia begins debating what jewelry she will wear to compliment her gown tomorrow, going over the pros and cons of each one (“That woman wore gold tonight and won’t tomorrow, so the gold necklace might be the safest choice. But the prince wore silver tonight and might again and if I wear silver we could match.”) while Drizella pulls at her curls, lost in the daydream of what tomorrow could bring.

Inside the baroness is not so sure.

“A second invitation will be sent to those the Prince has taken an interest in. Expect news by dawn.”

They are not high nobility. It is only through the baroness’ hard work and clever deals that they’re nobility at all. Perhaps it would be different if her husband were better at networking like her, but he’s not (if he’s still alive at all) so they have no advantage through title alone. Their only advantage lies in her daughters’ beauty being recognized and – thanks to that woman – that didn’t happen.

Maybe I was hasty to leave Cinderella at home, the Baroness muses. Cinderella would have caught the Prince’s eye. There’s always been something…unsettlingly compelling about that girl. To be honest, the Baroness has always been a little afraid of Cinderella. Even as a child she always seemed to look through the Baroness rather than at her. With her golden hair and odd, light eyes, Cinderella would have been enough to compete with the woman who had captured the Prince’s attention. Then, when the second invitation arrived, the baroness could have kept Cinderella away to leave the real work to her girls.

She eyes her daughters. No. She could not have chosen any differently. It’s been hard work ensuring her daughters never grew afraid of their strange stepsister. Imagine if they were forced to watch the prince be bewitched by her? The baroness was right to leave Cinderella at home, dressed plainly, rather than allow her daughters to see through the soot and rough clothing to the strange, menacing woman beneath.

“We will stay up all night until the invitation arrives,” the Baroness announces. She won’t be able to sleep anyway. “I want each of you to go over every detail of tonight. Who did you notice? What could you have improved on? We will need to be even better tomorrow.”

Anastasia and Drizella complain, but the Baroness tunes them out. She knows what’s best for her daughters. If she says that they need to go over noble greeting they say, every pin, every broach, every conversation, they will.

It will come, she tells herself. The Prince may not have noticed her daughters, but the Queen was certainly interested in them. She seemed particularly interested in Drizella. Perhaps she will be the one to choose the prince’s bride. Yes, that must be it. She was too attentive to my daughters for that not to be the case.

The second invitation will come. The carriage squeaks to a halt outside of their inn and the baroness waits impatiently for the coachman to open the door. Yes, her earlier concerns were born from anxiety. Obviously the Prince won’t choose his own bride. Clearly! He’s a prince and princes must marry based on their parents’ wills. She, a baroness, wouldn’t allow her daughters to choose their husbands. Certainly the Queen, a fellow noble mother, feels much the same.

Cheered, the Baroness doesn’t yell for the coachman to hurry up helping her daughters down from the carriage. Anastasia does it instead and her Capital accent is even beginning to sound convincing! Drizella nearly falls when the coachman supports her step down too weakly, but her recovery is much quicker than it would have been two years ago.

Yes, the baroness must not lose herself to anxiety. She’s raised her daughters well and that will all pay off when she sees one of them married to the prince. Perhaps she should talk to the Queen herself tomorrow? Mother to mother?

Yes, that’s the best plan. She’ll leave her girls to the business of catching the eye of the prince. If they prove successful, wonderful. If not?

The Baroness hides her smile. There’s a reason she came to the ball despite the invitation not including mothers of the potential brides.

-----------.

Three important invitations are delivered at dawn.

One is snatched by the Baroness who breathes a sigh of relief that she must hide from her daughters.

The second is handed to Helga who rolls her eyes at the redundancy and promises to deliver it to her charge once she wakes.

The third is delivered via raven to a lone man on the road on horseback. He holds his arm above his head as soon as he recognized the purple ribbon tied around the bird’s neck, barely flinching when its talons cut through his thin, traveling shirt.

“A summons?” the man asks. The bird does not answer. It takes off as soon as he unties the message from its leg. He flips the letter over to examine the seal. His stomach lurches. “From the Queen?”

He can’t ignore a letter from the Queen. With a sigh, the man turns his horse gently before even breaking the seal. The Queen only accepts replies in person. A bitterness coats his tongue.

Another letter has brought him back to his ancestral home. A very important letter from someone he’s been forced to leave alone too long. And now, barely four days’ ride from the sender, he’s forced to ignore her once again.

I’m coming, Cinderella. Just a little longer.

Baron David Ramsey has been away from home for too long.

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[valkyriepirate]

Newt Scamander x Reader One Shot- Lean On Me

Summary: You wake up in the middle of the night and notice Newt's absence. You go searching for him in his suitcase to find him passed out over his papers and try to bring him back to bed.

Warnings: fluff, fluff, and more fluff :)

Word count: 1.3k words

A/N: I wrote this simply to satisfy my Newt craving. He is an adorable little cinnamon roll that must be protected at all costs.

#4- Lean On Me

You pried open your eyes and squinted in the darkness. The other side of the bed was vacant; you knew it without rolling over. Newt’s presence had become so familiar to you that when he wasn’t there, it was as if part of your heart had gone missing.  

You sat up, rubbing your face groggily. There was a light on somewhere in the house. You slid your feet into your slippers and padded toward the source, hugging your thin nightgown to your body. It had begun to get chilly, especially at night, and oftentimes Newt found you cuddled up in bed, shrouded by a multitude of blankets.  

The suitcase was propped open on a table in the foyer. A dim light glowed from within.  

Yawning, you stepped over the rim and descended into its depths. The creatures weren’t exactly aware of the passage of day and night in the suitcase, but most had seemed to settle once the sun had set in the outside world. A few of the nocturnal ones hooted and hummed as you entered.

“Newt?” you called sleepily, lighting a candle from the cabinet. “Are you awake?”

You turned a corner to his study, a small nook by the stairs crammed with bookshelves and creature care appliances. There he was, sleeping sprawled over his desk, stray papers from his latest endeavor strewn about, hair ruffled and mouth open slightly. You smiled at the sight of your husband. You’d given up urging him to go to bed months ago, realizing that he all too often tried to heed your words but became so swept up in his work that he lost track of time.  

You came up behind him, sliding your hands over his shoulders. “My love,” you kissed the top of his head. “Won’t you come up to bed?”

He started awake, blinking sleep from his eyes. “(Y-Y/N)?” He had a line imprint on his cheek where he’d fallen asleep on the table. He looked at his papers in confusion and began gathering them together. “What time is it?”

You ran your hand down the length of his arm and slipped your fingers into his ink-stained ones, preventing him from touching his work. “Time to go to bed,” you whispered, lips brushing his ear.  

He stopped and leaned into your touch as you ran your thumb over his knuckles. He trapped your fingers, brought them to his lips, and nodded.  

You helped him to his feet and sneaked a hand around his torso as you led him up the stairs. Newt, of course, was wholly capable of climbing the stairs by himself, but you wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to close the physical distance between you two.  

Newt didn’t seem to mind. You were the bolder one when it came to affection, but he always caught your touches and held you closer as if he could make them last forever. Often he would absentmindedly caress your arm or twirl a curl of your hair between his fingers. It was in the little things that you knew Newt showed the most care; sometimes a single touch from him said more than a thousand words.  

You tugged him into the bedroom you shared and released your hold as you went to fold an extra quilt over the bed. Your tendency to hog the blankets on cooler nights left Newt searching for warmth, you knew, though it didn’t escape your thoughts that his lack of cover usually led him to snuggle closer to you. Perhaps that was part of your subconscious plan.  

He stood on the other side of the bed, framed in candlelight. The fire shone around his hair just so, making it appear that he was crowned in a rubicund halo. He was unraveling his tie, his sluggish movements betraying how sleep-deprived he truly was.  

You flattened the quilt and came to stand by him. “Allow me,” you said, taking the tie from his hands. Deftly, you undid the knot. You had made Newt’s tie for him countless times each day before he headed off to work to the point that you could do it with your eyes closed. You tugged it from his neck and tossed it to the dresser.  

When you looked back up, Newt’s eyes were locked on you. When you first met, you found his inability to look you in the eye odd and yet a little endearing. As you two grew closer, he would hold your gaze for greater lengths of time, as if he had gotten lost in your eyes and was physically incapable of tearing himself away. Even now that you were married there was something vulnerable about it. It was like you were each seeing a hidden part of each other’s soul, like you were baring your hearts before each other and were unafraid of what it could expose.  

Not breaking his gaze, you allowed your hands to trail down his chest, grasping the buttons at his vest. His heart was racing underneath your palms. Yours skipped a beat. You were melting under that look. Gently, you unattached each of the buttons and slid the vest off his shoulders, leaving him in an undershirt that was already popped open at the collar. On the undershirt you let yourself undo only the first three buttons; you knew if you went any farther your hands might never stop exploring every inch of his skin.

You pressed on his shoulders and eased him to sit on the bed. He reached up to hold your hand, but you knelt to untie his shoelaces instead. You set his shoes aside and he drew you back to your feet, slowly wrapping his arms around your waist.  

“I don’t deserve you,” Newt mumbled, eyes flitting away and settling on your mouth.

You cupped his face in one hand and ran your fingers through his fluffy hair with the other. “The world doesn’t deserve you, my love.”

He closed his eyes and leaned into your hand. “But you deserve the world.”

Your heart seemed to liquefy in your chest, sending warmth trickling all over your body. You leaned forward to kiss his brow. When you pulled back, his eyes- half-lidded and aglow with the candlelight- were once again fixed on your lips. He pulled you closer. Softly, as if it demanded the utmost care in the world, he tilted his head up and pressed his lips to yours.  

He kissed you like he couldn’t believe you were his, as if you would disappear from his arms at any moment. It was delicate and utterly sweet and ended far too soon.  

“I love you,” he murmured against your mouth. His voice was shaky, and he was looking at you like you were a dream.

In reply, you kissed him again. You lowered yourself to sit on his lap and he scooted back, tugging you with him, your hips curved into his body. Your hands stroked his neck and once more found their way down his arms. He shivered under your touch. You smiled against his lips and moved the kiss deeper.  

Newt leaned back and pulled you both onto the bed. You fell against his chest and dipped into the crook of his arm. Running the back of your fingers over his cheek, you whispered, “I love you too.”

Sleep was quickly claiming him, and you could feel its steady hold on you too. You kissed him once more, then rolled over and blew out the candle. You snuggled underneath the blankets, feeling Newt’s warm arm slip around your waist, his ankles entwining with yours.  

You were entering a world of blissful dreams when you felt his soft lips on the crook of your shoulder. You cuddled closer to him, your back up against his chest, and smiled into the night.  

“Good night, my love,” you said.  

“Good night, my darling,” he said as he drifted off to sleep once again.

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