#there was this one time a man came into my dms to ask a specific question that was harmless and he was respectful. i can deal with that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

comphy-and-cozy · 1 year

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The After Party

Pairing: Brady Skjei x Reader (f) x Andrei Svechnikov

Summary: When your new fling Andrei invites you to his joint birthday party, you’re surprised to learn that it’s a past flame who shares his birthday. And surely a double birthday calls for a double celebration — even if that means that you are the gift.

Word Count: 6.3K

Author's Note: Happy belated birthday, @smileysvech! Your bday gang bang awaits. 😘 Thanks for letting me take creative filth liberty to write your ultimate fantasy with my two favorite Carolina princes. Also S/O to @ryanpulock for literally remaking two gifs for my graphic and for encouraging the depravity. I’m not sure if anyone’s ever written this on tumblr dot com before so… enjoy!

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY). Light alcohol use/mention, swearing, one (1) use of Y/N. Threesome (MFM - no MxM), fingering (vaginal + anal - f receiving), oral sex (m + f receiving (vaginal + anal)), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, anal sex (f receiving), double penetration, creampie oh my god this is so depraved. **Please do your research before engaging in any sexual activity but especially anal sex. This is fiction and by no means any indication of how one should prepare. :)

Masterlist

When Andrei Svechnikov slid into your DMs, you were shocked, to say the least. When he showed genuine interest, asking you on a real date instead of the standard late-night meet up, you were even more surprised.

That was two months ago. Since then, you’ve crossed a myriad of unexpected things off your list with regard to Andrei Svechnikov. You’ve had a sleepover—with just cuddling—and gone out to breakfast, even started a small collection of Carolina Hurricanes t-shirts in your drawer, remnants of late nights and slow mornings with the Russian superstar. You’ve met a small handful of his teammates—always introduced vaguely, with no title to give you any inkling of where you stood relationship-wise, or even how he really feels about you.

Tonight is your next ‘first’: a Canes party. Andrei’s birthday party, to be specific, meaning your man (date? Boyfriend?)—whatever—is the star of the show.

To say you’re nervous would be an understatement, hence the extra shot before your Uber arrives to take you to Andrei’s. If he notices, he doesn’t seem bothered, greeting you with a smirk and a kiss on the cheek.

“You look hot.”

“Well, I have to look nice for your birthday, don’t I?” you say with a shy smile, still not used to this Adonis of a man complimenting you and checking you out so shamelessly. He responds with a slap to your ass and something murmured about a birthday gift later that earns a dull throb between your legs as you follow him out the door.

As you’re walking into the party—at the house of one of his teammates, whose name he hadn’t mentioned—Andrei takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers between his large ones. The action causes the butterflies in your chest to flutter excitedly at the outward display of affection.

It doesn’t take long for a drink to find its way into your hand and several introductions to take place. You’re still just Your Name, No Title, though your adrenaline barely lets you dwell on it, focusing instead of learning names and not making a fool of yourself. While you make small talk with Sebbe, the side profile of a handsome brunette catches your eye. He’s laughing, a crinkle around his eye as he smiles, and there’s something about his laugh that feels so familiar…

Andrei approaches as you’re building the courage to ask who the mystery man is. With his arm slipped casually around your waist, the question disappears as quickly as it came. Sebbe teases Andrei, who blushes and nudges him with his leg.

When Sebastian takes his leave, called to the rowdy game of flip cup outside, you’re left alone with Andrei. He gives your hip a reassuring squeeze, almost as if to say, you’re doing great. You barely have time to process. before someone is bounding up to the two of you like a golden retriever—and of course, it’s none other than your brunette mystery man.

“Svech, the birthday boy!” he greets, clapping his hand against Andrei’s in a greeting. Andrei smiles, then gestures to you, ready to introduce you. Your eyes slide up to his, instantly registering why he’s so familiar—

“Brady?”

You watch as the same realization dawns on his face, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Oh, shit — hey, Y/N!”

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” he shoots back, though his eyes flick to Andrei with a hint of realization before his beautiful brown irises are back on yours.

Andrei pauses, confusion written on his face as he looks between the two of you. He quickly racks his brain, trying to remember if he’d already introduced you. The memory never comes, though, because he hasn’t, and he realizes a moment too late that you two already know each other, somehow, some way.

“You two know each other?”

You bite your lip, contemplating how you want to approach as you glance over at Brady. Because how do you tell your new fuck buddy that his teammate is your former fuck buddy?

“Brady and I…”

“We used to—”

“—we used to hang out when he lived in New York,” you finish for him, your eyes shifting hopefully to Andrei, praying that he won’t read between the lines and that Brady will take the hint to keep his mouth shut.

“Oh,” is all Andrei says, and in an instant you know that he has, in fact, put the pieces together. Of course, the way Brady’s eyes are glittering as he looks at you doesn’t help, either. You’re sure he’s reflecting on one of the many times he had you crying out his name in his bed after a party not-so-dissimilar to the one you’re at.

“Welcome to our joint birthday party,” he says with a warm smile, and you’re thankful that he’s decided to keep any extracurricular thoughts to himself. “Did Svech tell you we share the same birthday?”

“No, he didn’t,” you smile back, offering him a ‘Happy Birthday’ as you raise your drink, taking an extra long gulp in an effort to aid your nerves.

Brady thanks you, then excuses himself to greet a few other teammates who’ve walked in, leaving you standing awkwardly with Andrei. He’s quiet, toying with the label on his beer bottle, and you shift uncomfortably.

Is he mad? Does he think I’m a whore?

“I can leave, if you want me to,” you finally say quietly, deciding to just address the elephant in the room; Andrei isn’t stupid and has surely figured it out. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, instead casting your gaze to the hardwood floor. You know you didn’t do anything wrong, but you’d understand if he was no longer interested given the layer of complication Brady added to your relationship.

Your words make him pause, and you can feel his eyes on you. He tucks a finger under your chin and tilts your head up to face him, looking you firmly in the eye. “No. I want you here.”

A rush of emotion floods your system, almost embarrassed at his display of affection. He’s never been so direct with you, and part of you wonders if the Brady discovery has forced it out of him. With a nod, you smile as he presses his lips to yours softly.

Later, you find yourself in the hot tub with Andrei, Marty, and Nykki as the party starts to wane down, both the water and the heat in Andrei’s eyes causing your body to warm from the inside out. The conversation is light, casual, and your uncertainty after your unexpected reunion with Brady might as well have never happened.

When Marty and Nykki bid their farewells a little while later, you’re alone with your new Russian friend, who scoots closer to you in the otherwise empty hot tub. Underneath the water, his large hand reaches for your knee, giving you a squeeze. You offer him a smile, trying to hide the effect he has on you.

“Brady seems pretty excited that you’re here.”

“I’m sure it was just the alcohol,” you wave off his comment, doing your best to hide your surprise that he’s returned to the topic.

Andrei hums, and you know he doesn’t believe your indifference, your nonchalant response. You wouldn’t either, if the roles were reversed.

“It really wasn’t a big thing,” you add, feeling the need to clarify—to justify your past relationship. “It was totally casual.”

And then you feel his fingers take flight in a slow glide on your leg. Your breath hitches slightly when you realize, seeing the tiny smirk that creeps onto his face. His movements are skewed by the distortion in the water and the ripple in the surface, so he moves confidently and with little hesitation.

“Did he touch you here?” his voice purrs in your ear, his hand sliding up your thigh.

“Andrei…”

“How about here?” his other hand caresses your breast, your nipple hardening under his touch despite the heat of the water.

“Did he make you come?”

Up ‘til now, Andrei has been more than satisfactory in the bedroom, but he’s reserved. He’s not afraid to leave marks and show his strength a little bit, but you can tell he’s been holding something back, that there’s another layer hiding beneath his kind surface. He’s confident, that much is clear, but you’ve sensed an almost cocky interior that’s been waiting to make an appearance, biding its time until it can ravage you.

“Sure fuckin’ did, bud,” a voice that isn’t yours sounds from the patio. Both you and your companion look up in surprise, unaware that anyone was around.

Brady stands with a hand in his pocket, a bottle of beer held loosely in his other as he observes the scene in front of him. You don’t know how long he’s been there, but you assume it’s been long enough for him to glean what’s happening—Andrei, jealous, claiming you back into his possession. Part of you wonders if he’d want to watch.

“Made her scream quite a bit, too.”

Instantly, you feel Andrei tense beside you, hand gripping onto your thigh as Brady welcomes himself into the hot tub. He’s calm, cool, collected, fully aware he’s riling Andrei up and flustering you at the same time.

Once he’s settled, he takes another swig of his beer before nodding at you. “Have to say, you were one of the biggest reasons I was disappointed to leave New York when I got traded.”

Andrei grimaces, the pulse point in his neck ticking. He knows what Brady’s doing, too, and he’s weighing his options. The last thing he wants to do is fight his own teammate, but he does want to wipe that smug expression off of his handsome face. Fuck, why did your previous exploit have to be him—the handsome Disney prince?

As he watches you and Brady make small talk, playing catch up on each other’s lives, Andrei contemplates. He could fall to follow Brady’s whims, loosening the control he has and blurring the line of who you’re here to see.

Or he could push back. Assert himself, solidifying his place in your life as your man.

And somehow, the second option seems much more appealing.

“Babe, come on,” he says, interrupting Brady’s hilarious story about the time he took the wrong subway in NYC, ignoring the way you giggle. “Let’s go into the sauna.”

Puzzled at the abrupt change of pace, you look at him and watch as he offers you his hand to help you out of the hot tub with a smile. With a shrug, you send Brady an apologetic glance before accepting it. You can feel his eyes on your ass as you step out, the warm water falling from your body.

Once you’re inside the sauna, Andrei turns up the temperature. As he sits down, he pulls you into his lap, easily adjusting your body until you’re straddling him. The wooden bench is warm and hard beneath your knees, but the way Andrei is looking at you is enough to distract you from any discomfort.

His hand glides along your jaw, smirking once he sees the hitch in your throat. Part of you is anxious, worried that someone will walk in. Your mind flashes to Brady, sitting in the hot tub just around the corner, to the times where you’d been in the exact same position in his lap—though, admittedly, never in a sauna.

“I don’t mind that you slept with him,” comes Andrei’s deep voice, murmured lowly as he continues to trail light circles over your damp skin. Relief floods your mind, quickly replaced by surprise when he adds, “Actually, it’s kinda hot.”

“It is?”

Andrei nods with a hum, nipping at a spot on your neck. “Yeah. S’like he warmed you up for me.”

Between his words and the heat of his mouth against your skin, you mewl. Before you have a chance to say anything back, his pillowy lips are pressing against yours in an open-mouthed kiss, hot and full of fire and unlike any other time he’s kissed you before. Surely the steam and the dim lighting adds to the aura, moisture building between your thighs as you feel where his groin is pressed against you.

“Don’t think I’d mind sharing,” he mumbles against your lips, the deep vibration of his voice buzzing on your mouth. You whimper at his implication, the thought of both of their lips working sinful magic on you almost too much to bear.

Of course, he notices your reaction; it’s impossible to ignore the way your hips roll steadily in his lap. His lips curl into a smile against yours. “Yeah? You’d like that?”

He pulls away, only slightly, to gauge your response. You cast your eyes down shyly, embarrassed, which only makes him smile harder at the contrast—shy despite admitting wanting to be fucked by two men. It’s cute, and it makes him want to ravage you even more than he already does.

“Could go get him right now, if you want,” he says softly. “It is our birthday, after all.”

Brady’s eyes glitter as he takes in the sight of you and Andrei approaching, hand in hand. Something’s different though, judging by the heave of your chest and the way your eyes avert his gaze; briefly, his mind flickers to what happened inside the sauna to yield your reaction. Andrei’s confident, smug, nodding at him in greeting. Something shifts in the air as they communicate silently, messages sent through a jerk of Andrei’s head and a sly smirk.

Eyebrows raised, Brady glances at you, hoping to catch your eye. The shyness of your glance is all he needs to confirm that you’re in, and a toothy grin breaks out on his handsome face.

“Oh? You gonna give us both a little birthday treat?” he asks, taking in the way you’re nervously chewing on your lip.

The sound of water sloshing has you looking up, seeing water sliding down Brady’s muscular body as he stands up. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he makes his way down the steps and approaches you, tucking a finger under your chin. Flashes of silver in his hair shine in the dim light. “Aw, don’t be shy, sweetheart. You know I only bite if you want me to.”

His less-than-subtle words make the butterflies in your chest beat their wings, heart ticking a touch faster with both of them in such close proximity. It had never really formally ended with Brady, only a few texts exchanged to let you know he was moving and a vague promise to reach out the next time he was in town. He hadn’t, but you weren’t offended; it had never been that kind of relationship.

The indefinite end to your little tryst is what you attribute to the excited pulse of your heart in your throat, able to easily recall the feelings for Brady that had been left dormant over the last few years. They don’t compete with what you feel for Andrei, but they’re enough to have you buzzing as he leads you into the house.

The next thing you know, you find yourself in Brady’s bedroom—foreign to you, though you recognize the bed frame and the bookshelf from his apartment in New York. You shiver, cool now that the air conditioning hits your damp skin. It’s quickly remedied when Andrei’s firm body approaches you from behind, his broad, muscular chest pressed against your back while his arms wrap around you, pulling you flush against him.

His lips begin a slow, teasing descent on the back of your neck and along your shoulder blade, not wasting any time by waiting for any sort of awkward introduction. You can feel Brady’s eyes on you, observing the way you react to Andrei’s touch, as if trying to remember what makes you tick. He’s gauging his next action, content for now to watch the way goosebumps break out over your skin and take in the small noises emitting from your throat.

Andrei’s large hands pull your hips backwards, until your ass is pressed against a very firm appendage, and you gasp. For all you’ve been worried about how Andrei will react, he seems to thoroughly enjoy the idea of sharing you. Brady’s eyes crinkle, his lips curling up into a smile.

“You like that, sweetheart? Is he hard for you?”

As if to ensure you know that he is, Andrei pushes his hips forward in a short thrust. He accentuates the movement with a nip to your shoulder before Brady’s stepping forward to close the gap between you. Before you can even register the two large bodies you’re deliciously sandwiched between, his lips are on yours in a kiss that sucks the air out of your lungs.

Brady’s hands snake their way up your jaw to tangle in your hair, his tongue quick to find yours as he re-familiarizes himself with your mouth. The feeling of his lips almost instantly recalls memories at the things he used to do to you with them, your unexpected reunion adding flame to the fire. Your mind is hazy, drunk on palomas and desire as Andrei’s hands tug your hips back to afford him the angle to grind his pelvis against you. The kiss is hot, and you’ve completely forgotten about the coolness of your damp swimsuit, your skin shockingly warm as the temperature continues to rise in Brady’s room.

Without warning, four hands flip you around in sync so that you’re facing Andrei, who greets you with a dimpled smirk. Brady’s hands, formerly in your hair, drag heat up your sides to land at your chest, tugging the material of your bikini top to the side to expose your breasts. As Andrei moves forward to kiss you, Brady massages each breast, his lips smirking against your shoulder blade when he hears you let out a faint moan.

“Fuck, I missed these tits,” he mumbles. “They’re incredible, aren’t they, Svech?”

Andrei nods, leaning his head down to take one of your nipples in his mouth. His tongue circles around it, teeth nipping when it hardens beneath his touch, and your hand finds its place on the back of his head to hold him in place. He and Brady work in tandem, silently massaging your body as you succumb to the pleasure, head lolling back against Brady’s shoulder.

His lips press gently against your temple, drinking in the sighs you let out. It’s his turn to press his erection against your ass as he murmurs, “Can’t wait to fuck that pretty little cunt of yours again, darling. You’ve no idea how much I missed you.”

For being a Disney prince, Brady has always had a filthy mouth, never failing to strike at your deepest, most depraved desires. He mouths at your jaw, fingers flexing into the skin of your hips. “Bet you’re absolutely fucking soaked, aren’t you?”

You nod helplessly, gasping out when Andrei nips at your breast, almost as if to say, attention on me.

“Come sit on my face, malyshka,” he says lowly, eyes flicking to Brady’s with a smirk. Once he’s adjusted, laying flat on the mattress, he holds out his hand to help guide you onto the bed. “Face Brady. Want him to watch.”

You do as you’re told, adjusting as you straddle his chest and scoot forward. Andrei’s expression is hungry as you get into place, his eyes quickly focusing on the apex of your thighs and tugging you closer to his face. The man’s mouth is downright sinful, and you can’t help the way wetness pools between your legs as he devours you with his eyes alone.

It’s only then that you glance at Brady, whose hands are working at the tie on his swimming trunks before shedding the wet fabric to the floor with a whoosh. Your eyes feast on his erection, even more beautiful than you remember it, admiring the way he grips it tightly in his hands.

“You still get wet sucking dick, baby?” he asks, and Andrei answers with an enthusiastic fuck yeah she does before he’s latching his mouth onto your core.

A moan falls from your mouth as his skilled tongue tastes your folds with vigor. Brady allows you a moment to take in the sensation, your eyes fluttering shut while Andrei groans against you. The touch of his hand on your jaw has your eyes opening again, meeting the warmth of his brown irises.

“What do you say we give him a treat, hm? Let him taste how delicious you are?”

You’re nodding so quickly that he laughs, helping to maneuver you so that you’re bent forward. With the change in angle, Andrei’s tongue is able to probe at your clit, while Brady guides his length toward your mouth. Eagerly, you accept him, the weight of him forgotten but familiar on your tongue.

It isn’t long before Brady’s head is falling back in a sigh as you work your way down his considerable length. He’s smooth, save for the pulsing vein on the underside, and you let the tip of your tongue run along it as you bob your head up and down. His hands tangle in your hair to steady himself, matching the way Andrei’s hands have now begun to grip your ass tightly.

“Still have never met someone who sucks dick as good as you do.”

Preening at his praise, you allow him deeper, finally pressed against the back of your throat as he groans lowly. Andrei’s voice is muffled, a deep “Fuck” murmured against your core as he reaps the reward of your arousal from sucking Brady off, growing wetter with each sound that escapes from his pretty throat.

Before long, the sinful work of Andrei’s tongue slows the movement of your own mouth, pulling yourself off of Brady’s length to mouth at the base as you moan. Your movements are slowed, distracted by the pleasure that your Russian is sending through your body. Brady reacts seamlessly, his hand gently guiding your mouth toward his balls, enjoying the way your tongue laves against the sensitive skin in combination with the moans that fall from your mouth.

“You gonna come for him, sweetheart? Gush all over that handsome face of his?”

You barely have time to nod before Andrei’s tongue flicks and sends you into overdrive, a loud cry leaving your throat. His mouth works you through your climax, tongue furiously matching your movements to prolong it as he laps up your nectar. A low chuckle bubbles up from Brady’s chest, amused as he watches your body come down from its high.

“You always look so pretty when you come.”

“You’re both pretty when you come,” you shoot back, a wave of mischief passing through you, as though your orgasm reinvigorated your confidence. Brady offers his hand to help you slide off of Andrei’s face—though you wouldn’t have complained about staying there for the rest of the night.

Andrei gives your ass a slap before he wipes off his face on the back of his hand. You can see remnants of you glistening on his upper lip, and the heat between you is palpable as he caresses your face before jerking his head back toward the mattress. “Go on, malyshka. Why don’t you show him how good you look when you ride my cock?”

With a smile, you nod, returning to a similar position as before, except this time, you’re straddling his waist rather than his face. And this time, instead of his warm tongue bobbing between your legs, it’s his dick, hard and weeping as it begs for entrance to your cunt.

You smirk at him, wrecked and panting beneath you, as you drag your hips along his length, grinding your clit against him as you hold yourself up on his muscular chest. Brady’s taken a seat on the bench at the foot of the bed, watching intently as he leisurely strokes himself.

“Don’t— don’t tease, kisa,” Andrei begs, the desperation in his voice near enough to make you moan.

And who are you to argue? It is his birthday, after all.

Sinking down onto him, your mouth opens in a silent scream as you feel him stretching you open. He’s big, bigger than you’ve ever had before, and you’re still getting used to the way he hits spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Andrei likes it, though, smug at the slow way you swallow his length and hoping that Brady’s taken notice at the raw, pleasured moan that you let out. The thought disappears quickly when he bottoms out inside you, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment to accommodate his size, feeling the way he pulses inside your heat.

“Fuck,” you whisper, and Andrei silently encourages you by resting his large hands on your hips for support. He’s patient, waiting for you to move, and eventually you do.

Soon, you’re moving in a steady rhythm, the sound of his thighs clapping against your ass filling the room. Andrei’s hands help to move you on his length, but his eyes are distracted by the bounce of your breasts. Briefly, your eyes meet Brady’s, who’s equally torn at whether to look at your face or your tits.

In a sudden movement, Andrei’s hands are gripping your hips and flipping you over, your back abruptly hitting the mattress near Brady’s thigh. You barely have time to register the new position before his large hands are pulling apart your legs and pushing himself inside you, instantly setting a hurried pace.

It’s a display of dominance, of the ease in which he can manhandle you, like a reminder to both you and Brady who you belong to. He might be sharing with his teammate for the night, but at the end of the day you’re still his girl. He drives pleasure into you with each push of his hips, his hands gripping your sides so tightly you think there might be bruises tomorrow. The force of his thrusts are enough to render you speechless, and your eyes close as you absorb every sensation he brings to life.

The feeling of Andrei’s lips on your jaw and the rough sound of him panting in your ear have your eyes blinking open. You catch Brady’s expression, hungry, as he watches the way Andrei claims you for his own. A fire ignites in his eyes when he watches Andrei’s hand snake between your bodies, the pad of his finger quickly finding your clit.

Instead of maintaining his rhythm and driving you to your second crest, he slows his hips to a painstaking pace. He’s unable to prevent the smirk that blooms on his face at the way you instantly whine, pulsing around him desperately.

“You like having an audience, don’t you?” he teases, accent thick. “You like that he’s watching me fuck you, huh?”

“Andrei,” you rasp, your hands clutching onto his biceps that are far too large for you to hold. “Please.”

“Answer him, sweetheart,” comes Brady’s voice. It’s not a command, but you want to obey anyways, and you nod with a gasp as Andrei pauses inside you, balls deep while he waits for your reply. “You like being on display, hm?”

“Y-yes, I love when- when he watches,” you stutter. “Drei— please —”

“Well, I love him watching you come undone for me. First my tongue, now all over my cock. Isn’t that right, baby?”

A strangled moan is your reply, eyes rolling back as he presses directly against your g-spot, pausing for a moment to feel the way you throb around him. There’s something so incredibly hot about his admission, wanting Brady to see the effect he has on you.

“You can do it, kisa,” he murmurs, his hips resuming their delayed pace. “Come for me.”

All at once, you realize he’s not going to speed up, instead content to drive you slowly to insanity. His calm, confident demeanor is annoyingly sexy, as is the smug expression on his face. The pressure of his finger on your clit sends fireworks through your core, the steady punch of his dick against your g-spot enough to make your toes curl.

Your mouth falls open as he pushes you closer to the cliff, and around a thick accent, he demands, “Fucking come for me, dorogoy.”

You have no choice but to obey, your climax surging through you as your legs go stiff around Andrei’s hips. Distantly, you can hear Brady groan while Andrei hums in approval. The movement of his hips don’t cease, instead working you through your high until your legs fall limply to the mattress.

He sits back, eyes glued to your pussy as he pulls out, pleased with the way his dick is coated in your orgasm.

“Fuck, look at the mess you made,” he smirks. You do, and through the haze of your orgasm, you itch to taste him. But then, he’s turning his focus toward his friend, and your attention shifts. “She’s all yours, Skjeisy.”

“Best birthday gift you could ever get me, Svech,” Brady replies, eyes raking over your body hungrily.

Your cheeks warm at his words, suddenly shy again as you glance up at him through your lashes. He stands before you, muscular and handsome, the streaks of gray in his hair shining silver in the low light of the room. The word daddy comes to mind, but you keep it to yourself, instead watching as he shifts onto the mattress.

“You still like taking it in the ass, baby?” he asks, and your heart flutters at his question. You haven’t done that with Andrei, not yet; you haven’t even broached the subject. But now he’s looking at you with heat in his eyes, slightly surprised but more than that, he’s intrigued.

You bite your lip and nod, unable to prevent the grin that spreads on your face as Brady hums, surely reminiscing on your past encounters. Andrei’s eyes are hot on you, though you can’t look away from Brady’s as he tugs you closer to where he’s knelt on mattress. His mouth is quick to find yours again, his tongue not wasting any time, as if to let you know how eager he is.

When he plunges two fingers into you, they slip in with ease from your arousal and your orgasm. He pulses them, exploring the tightness of your cunt, his dick throbbing against his leg as he does. Brady whistles when he pulls out two glistening fingers, observing at the way they shine in the dim light of the bedroom.

“Be a good girl and taste yourself for me,” he says, voice sweet like honey as he pushes the fingers past your lips. It’s tangy and salty on your tongue, but you suck them obediently, relishing the flavor.

Andrei groans at the way your lips wrap around the digits, undoubtedly reminiscing on the time it’s been his fingers or his dick subjected to the pleasures of your mouth.

Brady murmurs to Andrei, something about the bedside table, and he disappears and reappears in an instant with a bottle of lube in his hand. With both hands, Brady maneuvers your body and positions you so you’re on your knees, your face pressed against the soft sheet on the bed. You feel his fingers run over your pussy, still sensitive from Andrei’s treatment, clicking his tongue at the way it looks glistening with your cum. He catches some of the liquid oozing out on his finger and drags it up toward your puckered hole, circling lightly before he adds a healthy drizzle of lube. Once you’re thoroughly primed, he pushes the tip of his index into you.

A loud cry leaves your lips, the sensation vaguely familiar but strange. Brady takes his time, working you open until he gradually adds a second finger.

“You think you can take both of us, sweetheart?” he whispers, his voice silky smooth. Your eyes widen, connecting with Andrei’s, who offers a smug wink. Damn them and their teammate telepathy, making you feel like the third wheel even though you’re the one they’re fucking.

When you nod, Andrei shakes his head and tilts your chin up to meet his eyes again. “Gotta hear you say it, kisa.”

“Yes, I want to,” you say, though you can’t hide the shake in your voice. Whether it’s from nerves or the way that Brady’s fingers are probing your ass, you aren’t entirely sure.

Andrei’s voice is soft, a stark contrast to the scene in Brady’s bedroom. “If you want to stop, at any time, just say the word, and we’re done, okay?”

His words are comforting, and suddenly you feel yourself throb with desire at the thought of both of them filling you up. You’re nodding again, your voice a bit more desperate this time as Brady adds his tongue to the movement of his fingers, the heat from his mouth enough to make you cry out.

“Fuck, you taste even better than I remember,” he groans against you, lapping up the moisture that gathers around his fingers. Andrei hums in agreement, taking in the way your eyes roll back in your head at his teammate’s sinful work.

Once you’ve been thoroughly manhandled and maneuvered on top of Andrei and beneath Brady, sandwiched between the heat of their bodies, you let out another whimper when Andrei slides himself into your pussy. The feeling is familiar, unlike the sensation of Brady easing himself past the tight ring of your ass. He’s slow, steady, reminding you to breathe while Andrei rubs gentle circles on your waist with his thumb, pressing open-mouthed kisses at the base of your throat.

When you cry out, Brady freezes, waiting patiently for you to grant permission to keep going. As the unusual feeling subsides, you do, turning your head to find his cheek that you whisper a soft please against.

Eventually, Brady’s hips reach the globes of your ass, and both of them are fully sheathed in you. The breath in your lungs has vanished, replaced by everything them. Never in your life have you felt more whole, more complete; stuffed – literally – to the brim in a deliciously taboo way, completely and entirely theirs. With your face buried in the crook of Andrei’s neck, you beg them to move.

Brady’s hands grip your sides tightly as he alters his movements with Andrei’s. Push, pull, push, pull. Deep, hot puffs of breath hit you from both sides, encasing you between them. The feeling is otherworldly, delicious, and now that you’ve grown accustomed to feeling so full, you’re insatiable, crying out and letting the pleasure rake through you.

“Who knew I’d get to fuck this perfect ass again,” Brady muses, breaking the symphony of heavy breathing and skin slapping against skin. “Happy fucking birthday to me.”

Filthy words and promises spew from Brady’s mouth, praising you and reminding you of the many times he’s brought you to a crest; meanwhile, Andrei whispers broken Russian as his mouth marks up your collarbone. It makes you whimper, hearing the way you wreck him, feeling the way he throbs inside of you with his hands gripping your sides.

“I’m –” you pant, “I’m c-close.”

“Yeah? You gonna come all over these birthday cocks?” Brady teases, leaning back to watch the way he splits you open, murmuring in approval at the sight. “What a good little slut, taking both of us on our birthday.”

It’s not until Andrei’s face scrunches up as he hits his own climax that you are sent spiraling into yours, the feeling of his warmth spilling into your core the catalyst for your own release. A loud cry escapes your mouth, calling a jumble of cuss words, eyes squeezing shut as you let the waves roll through you.

“Holy fuck,” Brady groans, “I didn’t think your asshole could get any tighter. Fuck.”

His voice is losing its edge, a little more breathy as he pounds into you, seeking his high. A few moments later he pauses with a loud grunt as he, too, climaxes. After a pause to catch his breath, throbbing wantonly inside you, he pulls out with another groan, followed quickly by a whistle.

“Svech,” he says, “Come here and look at this.”

Another maneuver has Andrei slipping out from beneath you, meeting his teammate’s side to gaze at your backside, dripping two sets of cum and surely looking thoroughly wrecked. In their absence, you feel so empty, clenching desperately around nothing.

Andrei hums before you feel his hand on your ass, pulling apart your cheeks to get a better look. He murmurs something in Russian, pleased.

You barely have a moment to register warm breath and the scratch of his five o’clock shadow before his tongue is licking a thick stripe from your clit all the way up to your ass, lapping up the liquid that’s drooling out of your holes. The sensation is euphoric, if not overstimulating, but he knows exactly what he’s doing to drive you just a little bit more insane.

Brady chuckles behind you at the sound of your whimpers, muffled only by the pleasured sighs coming from Andrei against your center, like he can’t get enough of the taste of you filled with birthday cum. He laps you up like a starving man, and you’re about to push him away when he’s parting from you of his own accord.

With Brady’s help, he flips you over so you’re facing them. Brady’s expression is smug, gazing down at you hotly—as if he didn’t just ruin you, and wants to ruin you again. Andrei, though, is looking at you softly, a sharp contrast to the way his face glistens with your juices. He licks his lips, and if you were standing, your knees would’ve gone weak at the sight.

With a nudge at Andrei’s arm, he grins. “Happy birthday, dude.”

SIMILAR CONTENT:

Sundress Season

Glittery

A Night in Paris

Midnight Rain (blurb)

#andrei svechnikov fic #brady skjei fic #andrei svechnikov smut #brady skjei smut #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #andrei svechnikov x reader #brady skjei x reader #andrei svechnikov blurb #brady skjei blurb #andrei svechnikov x y/n #brady skjei x y/n #andrei svechnikov imagine #brady skjei imagine #hockey smut #nhl smut

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asacredthebread · 18 days

Text

cover by @no-other-mashter

A Cabin In The Woods - Ch3

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Sam x F!Reader

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚍, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚢?

Warnings/ Themes: Nice Sam, still only one bed, tying up his hair, reminiscing, implied boner, cliffhanger.

an: I can only apologise for the cliffhanger, I didn’t want this chapter to be too long! If you want to be added to a tag list specifically for this series, please feel free to DM me!

wc; 13.2k

taglist - @musicislove3389 @peaceloveunitygvf @jazzyfigz @sarahbethgvf @fleetingjake @dannys-dream

As the two of you settled into the game of twenty questions, the atmosphere lightened with each exchange, and it felt like a playful dance around unearthing cherished memories. You began with an easy question about favorite childhood toys, and the conversation effortlessly flowed, delving deeper and bringing laughter that echoed off the cabin walls.

When it was his turn to ask, he decided to steer it into the realm of nostalgia, “What’s your favorite memory of us when we were kids?”

You grinned, a mischievous glint shining in your eyes. “Oh, I’ve got one for you. Remember that time you tried to impress me by climbing that tree in the park?”

He couldn’t hold back a laugh as you recalled the moment vividly. It had been a glorious afternoon, filled with sunshine and laughter, the scent of summer in the air. Sam, ever the daredevil, had attempted to climb higher than any kid had a right to. “How could I forget? I was so sure that I would be able to reach the top.”

“Yeah, and then you got stuck halfway up,” you replied, chuckling. “You thought you’d look cool, but instead, you were just hanging out there, calling for Jake like he was going to be your knight in shining armor.”

Heleaned back against the couch, shaking his head and grinning. “And who came to the rescue? Not Jake, that’s for sure. It was you, running over all in a panic.”

“Oh, yeah! I was a lifesaver,” you agreed, laughter dancing in your eyes. “I remember you were gripping that branch for dear life, trying to look casual, all the while internally freaking out while yelling for Jake to come help you.”

In your mind’s eye, you could picture the young Sam, arms splayed out in a desperate attempt at coolness, his cheeks flushed as the laughter bubbled in your chest. “You were so determined to impress me, and instead, you ended up looking like a raccoon caught in a tree.”

“Hey!” He feigned offense but couldn’t hold back the laughter. “And don’t forget how we both ended up with skinned knees after you helped me down.”

“Oh my god, yes! I forgot about that.” The joy of the memory washed over you as you recalled the tumble down, landing in the grass with a thud, both of you laughing despite the little scrapes. “But it was so worth it. We were laughing so hard, even with the bruises.”

“The best kind of adventure,” he added, and there was a softness in his gaze, a warmth that seemed to wrap around both of you as you relived that moment.

As the laughter died down, it was Sam’s turn to offer up a memory of his own. “Okay, my turn.. I think my favorite would have to be one of the early Fourth of July trips - the one where we went rafting?”

You tilted your head, encouraging him to share his own treasured remembrances. “Oh my God, yeah I remember that one!”

“Oh man, that was epic,” he said, a wide smile spreading across his face. “I can still see Josh getting tipped over into the water. It was classic.”

You couldn’t help but laugh along with him at the memory. “And you were so sure you were going to fall in next!”

“Yeah, I dove straight for the oars just in case the worst happened.” Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “But what really cracked me up was Josh climbing back onto the raft, drenched and cranky about his hair. You remember how he kept complaining about how he needed to fix it?”

“I do! He spent half that trip trying to wring it out! He was such a drama queen about it,” you replied, grinning as you recalled the exaggerated gestures he had made.

“Classic Josh,” Sam laughed. “And I just kept paddling like a maniac, trying to avoid any ‘splash zones.’ It felt like a scene from a comedy movie.”

“It really was,” you agreed, feeling the warmth of the day wash over you again. “Those trips were the best. I can’t believe how much time we spent doing things like that.”

The nostalgia hung in the air, sweet and warm, anchoring both of you in those carefree days of youth. As you shared stories back and forth, delving into memories framed by laughter and adventure, the cabin felt less like a prison and more like a cozy sanctuary filled with the echoes of your shared history.

“Okay, my turn,” you said, still glowing from the laughter. “What’s your favorite dessert from back then?”

Sam’s face lit up, and you felt another ripple of excitement as the game continued, revealing stories that brought you closer. In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of fond memories, it occurred to you how the silly game and shared laughter were weaving together a tapestry of connection that neither of you had anticipated—but might just make your time stuck here a little brighter.

As the laughter began to fade, you and Sam settled deeper into your respective couches, the novelty of the game giving way to a more comfortable rhythm of conversation. The initial awkwardness had started to dissipate, replaced by the familiar ease that you both shared. Sam's light teasing and your playful banter wove a tapestry of warmth that transformed the secluded cabin into a safe haven, despite the situations outside.

You glanced up at the clock on the wall, the hands inching closer to the midday mark. Realizing that you hadn’t eaten yet and that it was about time to make lunch, you pushed yourself off the couch, stretching your arms overhead. “Okay, I think it’s time for me to whip something up for lunch,” you said, glancing over at him.

“Wait,” Sam interjected, his demeanor still slightly cool but beginning to warm, a hint of something softer flickering in his eyes. “I’ll make it. You made breakfast, after all.”

You paused, surprised by the offer. “Really? You don’t have to—”

“I want to. Just sit and relax for a minute.” With that, he started to rise, but then he suddenly reached for his hair, quickly pulling it back into a ponytail.

The attempt was ambitious at best. A few rogue strands stubbornly escaped the hold, sticking out in every direction, amassing around his face like a wild halo. You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, the sight of him looking half-determined and completely disheveled striking you as humorous. “Oh my god, Sam! You look like a tornado hit your head!”

“Shut up,” he said, rolling his eyes, but even he couldn’t suppress a smile. “It’s functional enough, okay?”

“Functional, but definitely not cute,” you teased, your laughter still bubbling. “Here, come sit by me.” You beckoned for him to come closer, inviting him into the space between your knees with an open smile.

He hesitated for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as he assessed the offer, but something in your voice, the playful tone, softened him. With a begrudging sigh, he relented and moved closer, settling cross-legged on the floor between your knees, facing away from you.

“Fine, but don’t expect me to get too comfortable,” he muttered, though there was a playful undertone in his voice.

As he sat, you felt a swell of affection course through you. There was something intimate about this position, this shared space. It felt like stepping into the past, a return to the uncomplicated moments of carefree childhood—an era when everything was innocent and the connection was effortlessly simple.

“You know,” you said softly, your fingers itching to reach out, “if you’re going to sit there with that mess of hair, I might have to intervene.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, feigning innocence, but you could see the way his shoulders tensed as he anticipated your next move.

With a teasing smile, you reached forward and gently pulled the hair tie out of his hair. “We can’t have you looking like this while making lunch,” you said playfully, as your fingers began to rake through his hair, seeking to smooth out the knots and tangles.

He made a subtle sound of protest, but the tension in his shoulders eased as you worked your fingers through the mess he’d created. “Careful with the hair! It’s valuable,” he quipped, his tone a mixture of annoyance and amusement.

“Valuable, huh?” you teased, gently tugging at the strands as you brought them back to their natural state. “This could probably double as a cleaning tool given how crazy it gets sometimes.”

“Just wait until I find a mirror and fix this,” he smirked, shooting a glance back at you, though a small laugh escaped him, betraying his good-natured spirit.

You focused on the task at hand, fingers deftly separating the tangled strands. The warmth of his body so close to yours brought a comforting glow, a friendly intimacy that you hadn’t expected to feel today. Your fingers danced gently through the hair, smoothing it out, inadvertently creating a soothing rhythm that resonated between you.

As you worked, the cabin filled with an easy camaraderie, and for a few moments, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in this shared bubble of connection. You could feel the subtle shift in Sam, the way his initial tenseness began to ebb away, as if he were letting go of burdens that weighed on his shoulders.

And while you were lost in this simple act—calming the chaos that had formed on top of his head—there was an undercurrent of vulnerability in the air. Despite all the unspoken things lingering between you, this moment felt like a quiet declaration of friendship, a gentle reminder that trust and comfort could blossom even in unexpected situations.

As you carefully worked through the tangles in Sam's hair, you focused intently on the task at hand, relishing the way your fingers glided through the strands. Each gentle tug was deliberate, a conscious decision to avoid pulling too hard. You noticed that Sam had relaxed further beneath your touch, his body unwinding into a comfortable posture, and there was a softness in his demeanor that hadn’t been there before. It was as if the chaotic morning had dissipated, replaced by this unanticipated calm.

His hair was surprisingly soft, the strands silky and warm as they slipped between your fingers. The slight sway of his head every now and then suggested he was leaning into the moment, a rare vulnerability that he rarely allowed himself to show. You imagined that for him, this was a secret indulgence, perhaps a moment stolen from the rigid boundaries he often constructed around himself. You’d seen glimpses of it last night—the unguarded laughter, the shared stories—but now you were starting to feel the layers he was shedding while you cared for him.

As you gathered his hair into a proper ponytail, you recalled how different things had been just a few hours ago. This morning, he had woken up guarded and closed off, almost like a statue encased in frost. The harsh words exchanged between you last night lingered on the edge of your mind, still fresh and sharp enough to draw blood if you focused too hard. But as you bound his hair together, you couldn’t help but feel the change in the air, like a tide turning.

This morning, Sam had snapped at you, his cool demeanor piercing through the sleepy haze you both had woken up in. But now, under your gentle ministrations, he was starting to melt. You felt your heart flutter with the realization that he was perhaps beginning to warm up to you again, that maybe he yearned for change just as much as you did.

You tied the hair securely with a hair tie, making sure it was both neat and comfortable. “There we go,” you murmured, admiring your work. “Much better.”

The moment you stepped back, Sam turned his head slightly to glance at you, his expression a blend of surprise and appreciation. “Wow, you’re like a hair magician or something.”

“I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve,” you replied with a grin, feeling both playful and warm inside. With your fingers still tinged with the softness of his hair, you settled back into your position, observing him closely.

His smile was genuine—there was no faking it. You took a moment to appreciate how different it felt to see him relaxed, the tension he usually carried serving as a reminder of all the unkind barriers he placed around himself. In those moments, you could allow yourself to hope that perhaps he was letting you in again.

“Last night was intense, huh?” you ventured, looking for a way to bridge the developments.

He nodded, running a hand through the newly tied ponytail absentmindedly before letting it fall over his shoulder. “Yeah, you could say that.” His voice was contemplative, and the way he paused suggested more was lingering beneath the surface.

“That’s an understatement,” you said lightly, trying to ease the heaviness of the moment. “I didn’t think you’d turn into a drama king overnight.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rich, diffusing the air around you. “I might argue that title belongs to you, given the way you threw your hands in the air.”

“Touché,” you replied. “But I’d like to think my drama comes with style. Yours, however… well, let's just say it lacked finesse.”

He humorously rolled his eyes. “I’ll have you know, I was completely justified.”

The easy banter settled into a comfortable rhythm, and as you exchanged witty remarks, you wondered if this was a fleeting moment or the beginning of something more promising between you.

As he leaned back slightly, resting his shoulders against your legs, you felt the shift in the atmosphere. His actions spoke volumes; he was inviting you into his space, allowing yourself to push through the walls he had built. And it struck you—had his actions this morning been a true look into how he was feeling about it all, or had he simply been terrified of what could change?

“What do you think we were fighting about really, all these years?” you asked, your curiosity bubbling to the surface. “I mean, was it really just about me breaking up with Danny?”

He sighed softly, his gaze directed at the floor. “Honestly? I think it was more about everything else—the things left unsaid, you know?”

You nodded, your heart racing as you recognized the truth in his words. “Like what?” you pressed gently, prepared for this opening. “What’s really bothering you?”

He hesitated, momentarily lost in thought, and you could almost see the wheels turning behind his eyes. The warmth and comfort you had shared seemed fragile, but the opportunity was there, tantalizingly close. You could sense that your question had opened a doorway to a deeper conversation.

“I guess… I don’t want to mess up again.” He admitted slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. “After everything that happened, it’s hard to not want to protect myself.”

“Protect yourself from what?” you asked, leaning a little closer, wanting nothing more than to understand him more fully.

“From feeling that heavy attachment again,” he said, his voice lower still. “You know? It’s like… I can’t decide if fighting and pushing you away is worse than letting you in.”

His honesty washed over you, a mix of vulnerability and strength that left you momentarily awed. And in that moment, you felt the sincerity of your connection, how deep it ran despite everything that had happened. You realized that in those shared moments, there was a potential for healing, an opportunity to rewrite your narrative together, to guide him through the delicate landscape of re-establishing trust.

“Sam,” you said softly, letting your voice steady. “We’ve both messed up before.”

“I know. But I hate feeling this way. It’s like I’m stuck.” His tone was heavy, but the tension was lightened by the way he leaned back further, comforted by your presence.

“Are you scared?” you ventured, wanting to keep the conversation open, to keep peeling back the layers.

“Yeah,” he said, his admission almost swallowed by the space around you. “Scared of getting too close, scared of it ending poorly again.”

You took a deep breath, considering your next words carefully. The last thing you wanted was to push him into a corner, but the truth bubbled beneath the surface. “But isn’t it worth the risk?”

He turned slightly, meeting your gaze. “Sometimes I wonder. But then I look at you and think…maybe you’re worth the risk.”

His admission sent a rush of warmth through you, the weight of your earlier tension lifting as hope began to bloom in the pit of your stomach. You realized then how deeply you cared for him, just as he cared for you, despite the mistakes and misunderstandings.

“I want to be close to you, Sam,” you confessed, your voice steady. “But I also need you to meet me halfway.”

“I can try,” he replied, his voice becoming more certain, the warmth radiating off him growing brighter.

With renewed determination, you decided to keep the conversation flowing. “So, what if we agree to be honest with each other, no matter how hard it feels? I don’t want to fight anymore. I want us to find a way to navigate all this together.”

He nodded thoughtfully, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “That sounds good. And, um, thanks for doing my hair.”

A teasing smile crept onto your face. “You’re welcome. But I’m still claiming my title as the hair magician.”

Sam chuckled again, and it felt like a refreshing wind sweeping through the room. You realized that those moments of laughter became the threads binding you closer, the small fumbles and fleeting moments leading to something solid and real.

As the sun shifted position in the sky, casting warm rays that filtered through the window, Sam finally broke the comfortable camaraderie you two had built over the last hour. He stretched lightly, the motion causing his muscles to ripple slightly beneath his shirt, before pushing himself up from the couch.

“Okay,” he said, patting his knees. “I think it’s time to make us some lunch.”

You laughed, the sound light and carefree, enjoying the rhythm of the moment. “You’re not a magician in the kitchen too, are you?”

He shot a cheeky grin over his shoulder as he walked toward the small kitchenette. “Magic does not extend to the culinary arts. You’re gonna have to lower those expectations.”

You settled back in your spot, momentarily enjoying the view as he rummaged through the cabinets. A comfortable silence enveloped you, only punctuated by the rustling of bags and the clinking of pots. But, as you watched him prepare the food, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still wrestling with the lingering shadows of your past.

Just as he started to pull out ingredients for sandwiches, he glanced back at you. Pausing for a moment, he finally began to speak again, sentiment spilling forth like the ingredients he was arranging. “You know, when you were dating Danny, I was… jealous.”

The word hung between you, heavy yet almost relieving, like the steeping aroma of something familiar wafting through the air. “Jealous?” you repeated, surprised by the unexpected turn in conversation.

He nodded, his expression growing serious, the laughter of moments before evaporating. “Yeah. Jealous because it felt like he took you away from me. From us. And jealous of him too, for having you in a way that I never could.”

Your heart sank a little at his confession. It was like unearthing a hidden scar you never knew had festered beneath the surface. You had never wanted to take anything from him—not in any measure that would lead to hurt—and it pained you that your relationship with Danny had driven this wedge.

“When you broke up,” Sam continued, his eyes focused on the counter as if searching for answers in the disarray of ingredients, “I took it as a good excuse to put distance between us, hoping it would lessen how attached I felt to you.”

As he spoke, you felt a knot form in your chest, realizing this post-breakup handling of emotions hadn’t been easy for him. You wanted to reach out to him, to offer comfort or understanding, but you stayed where you were, focusing on his every word.

“I thought if I pulled away, maybe those feelings would fade,” he admitted, turning to face you fully now, vulnerability etched into his features. “I honestly hoped that the breakup would lead you to...leave the group or at least distance yourself. I thought that would give me some peace and help me forget.”

Silence lingered between you as his confession sank in. The tension that had previously hovered in the air twisted, reshaping itself into raw honesty, echoing with the weight of unresolved emotions.

When you finally found your voice, you said, “But… I didn’t want that. I thought we could all still be friends, especially after everything we all shared.”

He nodded slowly, a faint frown creasing his brow. “I know. But then you didn’t leave. Instead, you became even closer to everyone else. And that just… it hurt. I guess I was really good at putting on a cold shoulder, and it felt easier, less messy.”

You could feel the ache in his voice, the weight of what he had carried alone. “But you didn’t have to push me away,” you said gently, your heart aching for the distance he had imposed on himself. “I was always here, Sam. You just… made it hard for me to reach you.”

He looked at you, the flicker of confusion mixed with longing in his eyes. “I was afraid,” he admitted, his gaze softening. “Afraid of what might happen if all those feelings bubbled to the surface again. And I didn’t want to lose you completely if it came down to that.”

Your heart raced. Each word he offered peeled back another layer of the complexity of your relationship, an intricate web of desires and regrets tangled together. Realizing the depth of his feelings was overwhelming yet brought forth a realization of your own.

“That night,” you started, recalling the echoes of a disastrous argument that had happened the night that you and Danny had broken up, “that wasn’t just a fight about you defending him, was it? We were both dancing around the things we didn’t want to face.”

Sam sighed as he began assembling sandwiches. “Exactly. It was easier to argue about little things instead of the real issues between us. You know, the ones that just seem to sit there, getting heavier every time we ignore them.”

There was an earnestness in his voice that made you feel both grounded and exposed. “So what do we do now?” you asked quietly, wanting to navigate this emotional territory cautiously yet deliberately.

He paused, his hands stilled briefly over the sandwich he was preparing. “I think we start by being honest with each other, like we just did. And maybe—”

“Maybe?” you prompted gently, your hopes beginning to rise.

“Maybe I let the walls come down a little,” he said, finally looking up to meet your gaze. “I can’t promise it will be easy, but I want to try.”

A soft smile spread across your face. “That sounds like a good plan. I want to try too.”

For a moment, there was a quiet understanding, an acknowledgement of the journey you were about to embark on together. It wouldn’t be simple, but there was a sense of hope threading its way through the cracks of uncertainty, daring to breathe life back into a friendship that had been battered but not broken.

Once the sandwiches were prepared, Sam turned back to you, setting the plate down with a flourish that broke the tension that had built in the room. “Ta-da! Lunch is served.”

You laughed, the sound echoing in the small space as it filled the air—light and freeing, a shared warmth that began to solidify the fragile connection you both had rediscovered. “You might not be a magician in the kitchen, but this looks pretty good,” you replied, reaching for a sandwich.

As you took your first bite, the taste of fresh ingredients mixing with the warmth of the moment felt like a small victory. With every bite, it felt like you were breaking bread with the chance of a new beginning. The remnants of jealousy and distance were still there, but now they seemed manageable, recognizable. The beauty of reconnecting was not lost on either of you.

Over lunch, you let the conversation flow, mixing lighthearted banter with deeper reflections. You laughed about memories of shared failures in the kitchen, reminisced over particular moments of friendship, and slowly unraveled the need for vulnerability in learning about each other’s fears, insecurities, and desires again.

In this newfound space sparked by honesty, an invisible thread began to weave its way back between you, one that spanned the depth of both understanding and affection. You realized that both of you had wanted to protect your hearts, but somewhere in the tangle of it all, you had lost sight of what had made your friendship so special in the first place.

And as laughter echoed against the walls, mingling with the aroma of lunch, you began to see that the journey you shared wouldn’t be marked by moments of jealousy or fear anymore, but by a continuing commitment to face everything together, step by careful step. The lunch transformed into something far more important—a chance for reconnection, cautious yet filled with promise, a shared meal that symbolized the beginnings of healing and understanding between two people who had once been adversaries in their own hearts.

As the afternoon sunlight began to wane, casting a golden light across the cozy cabin, you and Sam settled back onto the couch, the remnants of your shared lunch cleared away. The warmth that had begun to grow in the room was palpable, not just from the freshly constructed sandwiches but from the renewed connection between the two of you. Conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter and the gentle rhythm of vulnerability being woven back into your lives.

Seated close together, you felt the comforting warmth of his presence beside you, the tension of the morning a distant echo. You glanced out the window, watching the sun sink lower on the horizon, streaks of orange and pink spilling through the trees. It was a beautiful sight, the world outside igniting with color, and for a moment, everything felt right.

But as the afternoon drew on, you could sense the shift in the air, the faint chill creeping back in. Sam seemed to notice it as well, for he shifted slightly, glancing toward the fireplace where the logs lay dwindling and half-burnt. Finally, he sighed and stood up, allowing the blanket he had draped on his lap to slide off slightly.

“We’re going to need more logs for the fire soon,” he announced, his tone steady, yet with a hint of urgency. “There’s only a few left and it’ll be getting chilly in here.”

You nodded, realizing he was right. The cozy heat surrounding you would soon dissipate if you didn’t take care of it. Sam made his way across the room to the door with a determined stride, but just as he reached out for the handle, he paused mid-motion. A laugh bubbled up from somewhere within him, catching you off guard.

“Hold on” he chuckled, turning his head back to you, mirth dancing in his eyes. “The log. Door’s blocked.”

You felt a genuine laughter escape your lips, the memory of that chaotic tumble bringing back the echoes of last night. “I was just waiting to see how long it would take you to realize!” you replied, enjoying the shared amusement that lit the atmosphere.

He huffed in mock annoyance, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Of course, you would let me stumble around like an idiot.” But the smile that followed suggested he was teasing more than he was genuinely frustrated.

“Oh come on, it was kind of funny!” you shot back, letting the laughter linger. “Watching you move like you were on a mission while all that time there was just a need for a little creativity to get past that log.”

“Creativity,” he echoed with a grin, shaking his head as if dismissing the idea. “I’ll show you ‘creativity’ by throwing the darn thing out of the way next time.” He paused again but relished the shared chuckling.

With a subtle change in energy, Sam sauntered back over to the couch, fully retreating from his stint at the door. “Actually, I think I’ll just grab a blanket instead,” he said conspicuously, a hint of levity to his tone.

You leaned back into the warm cushions, content to let the moment linger a little longer. “A smart plan. Why battle logs when you can pull a cozy blanket around us, right?”

With a swift movement, he reached for a blanket draped over the back of the couch. It was thick and fluffy, perfect for wrapping up against the encroaching cold. Sam flung the soft, textured piece over the two of you before settling back down beside you, the familiarity of his warmth returning immediately.

“See?” he said, wrapping the blanket snugly around both of you. “Now we’re prepared for anything.”

You nestled close to him, sinking into the palatial fabric as a sense of comfort enveloped you both. “Much better. I always knew you were resourceful—just needed a little nudge to realize the simpler solutions,” you teased gently, your head leaning against his shoulder.

He gave a modest shrug, feigning a lack of interest in your compliment. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Well, you do have your moments,” you replied, your voice playful yet sincere. “But seriously, it’s nice to have this time together.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice softening as he gazed into the flickering flames. “I’m really glad we’re talking again. It feels… right.”

You paused in contentment, feeling the warmth radiate not just from the flames but also from the bond you were rebuilding together. “It does,” you affirmed, and silence settled between you, a warm cocoon in which to process everything you had shared.

You both leaned into the embrace of the moment, wrapped in the blanket and in each other’s company, the fire crackling gently in the background. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the serene heartbeat of the cabin and the tenuous peace of two souls opening up to one another again.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, you turned your head slightly to face him. “You know, I actually like how things are changing between us,” you ventured, wanting to underline the significance of this moment. “It feels like we’re finally being honest about everything.”

Sam nodded, his expression pensive. “Yeah. There was so much holding us back before. I think I was just scared of taking that first step again. But now… it feels different.”

“I was scared too,” you revealed softly, feeling emboldened by his admission. “I didn’t want to lose you either—this deeper friendship, or whatever it is we’re building. I kept waiting for you to pull away, and I hated it.”

A shadow flashed across his face, a hint of regret that met your gaze. “Yeah, and I guess I clung to that cold shoulder because I thought it would protect me. But here we are, wrapped up against the world.”

You felt the heat of connection burn brighter between you. “I think we can face anything together,” you said, your voice steady.

He turned to you, his eyes glinting with warmth. “You’re right. It’s about what’s ahead that matters. I’m tired of running from my feelings. Let’s keep the door open this time.”

As you looked into his eyes, the echo of laughter and friendship melded together, creating the potential for something more profound. And in the enclosing dark of twilight, with only the soft glow of the fireplace illuminating the room, you felt ready to embrace every shift, every nuanced feeling that lay ahead.

With the warmth of the blanket between you, the shared memories glowing like embers around you, and the light of newfound understanding growing steadily, you both settled into an understanding that the evening was only the beginning. A pathway to uncharted territories of connection and possibility lay ahead—one built not just on shared histories, but also on the willingness to forge ahead, together, navigating whatever storms might come your way.

“You’ll have to tell me more about the secret magician hair tricks next,” he said after a moment, breaking the thoughtful reflection.

“Oh, I have plenty of those up my sleeve!” You laughed, and leaned deeper into his side, feeling the connection solidify with each shared moment between you.

You nestled deeper into the blanket, the warmth cocooning you as you and Sam exchanged comfortable glances, the moment inviting connection and open conversation.

With a soft sigh, you broke the silence, your curiosity bubbling to the surface. “So, how does it feel to have just completed the tour? I mean, it’s been such a whirlwind of a year for you guys!”

The question sparked a light in Sam’s eyes, igniting recollections that danced across his expression like the flickering flames in the fireplace. “Honestly, it feels surreal. We played in cities I never even thought I’d visit—a complete dream come true.” He leaned back slightly, a nostalgic grin spreading across his face. “From Tokyo to Paris, each show felt like a little slice of magic.”

Your heart swelled with happiness for him, the shared experiences of the tour coloring your view with an appreciation for their hard work and the art they created together. “It’s incredible what you guys have accomplished. I can't even imagine what it was like performing for all those crowds.”

“Yeah, it’s exhilarating but exhausting,” he replied, the laughter in his voice merging with a hint of weariness. “But it’s always worth it. The energy from the shows fuels everything we do.” He paused, his gaze settling on the dancing flames, and you knew there was another layer tacked onto his thoughts. “You know, the creative process is something we’ve honed over the years, especially when writing new songs.”

“Really? How does that work?” you inquired, leaning in with genuine interest.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, a familiar gesture that indicated he was transmitting from a well of fond memories. “Jake and Josh have this tradition of going somewhere remote to kick off the songwriting process. Nature seems to do something fantastic for inspiration—the silence, the fresh air—it just makes the words flow so much easier.” He chuckled, that warm and rich sound bringing a smile to your face. “I mean, we could never function on a tour bus like that. It’s got to be about disconnecting a little and finding that space to breathe.”

You nodded, imagining the landscapes they must have explored during those visits. “That sounds amazing. I can totally see how that would help.”

A glimmer of mischief flitted across his expression. “Speaking of which, I remember this one trip a couple of years ago. We took a hiking break, and it was supposed to be this epic adventure in a remote area. Great views, the works.”

“Let me guess, something went hilariously wrong?” you teased, egging him on.

“Oh, it was a comedy of errors,” he confirmed, a broad grin stretching across his face. “Danny just loved to show off, and while we were wading across the stream, he decided to hop on a stone for a better view. Well, he didn’t quite have the finesse he thought he did and ended up slipping right into the water.”

You burst into laughter, picturing the scene unfolding in your mind. “Oh no! Did he get soaked?”

“Absolutely! He went in with a huge splash, and it was all very dramatic,” Sam recounted, his eyes glinting with the kind of nostalgia that only comes from shared histories. “Jake, of course, did his best to save him, rushing over without a second thought to pull him out. But in true comedy fashion, he slipped right after Danny and fell in too!”

You laughed harder now, picturing the chaos of it all—the indignant yelps and the surprise splashes, two of your friends turned into a giggling mess in the middle of nature’s tranquility. “That’s amazing! I can only imagine how that must have looked.”

“It was ridiculous,” he admitted, shaking his head as he chuckled. “Here they were, two grown men floundering around in a freezing stream, while Josh just stood back, dying from laughter. He couldn't even help, he was just taking pictures, documenting the whole disaster!”

You continued to laugh along, your eyes sparkling with mirth. “What did Danny say after he got out? Was he mad?”

“Oh, he was furious at first—not at Jake, but at himself for being so reckless. But honestly, who could stay mad when you’re both wet, shivering, and covered in mud?” Sam smiled, his voice softening as he reminisced. “In the end, we all just started cracking up together. It became one of those memories that bonded us more than any of our successes.”

“That’s what it’s all about, right? Those crazy moments that bring you closer together?” you mused, your heart warming at the thought.

He nodded earnestly, his gaze thoughtful. “Exactly. It’s like every little adventure and misadventure adds to the tapestry of who we are as a band. Each experience, whether a success or a failure, is part of our story. And it sometimes leads to the best songs.”

“And I bet that one probably inspired a whole new track, didn’t it?” you asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Funny you should say that,” he replied, an enthusiastic light returning to his eyes. “We did end up writing a song about it—we call it ‘Throwing Stones’ to poke fun at how we got there. It’s fun, upbeat, and it just ignites this lively spirit, reminding us to laugh, no matter the chaos!”

“I can’t wait to hear it,” you replied, a mix of excitement and sheer admiration warming your chest. “It’s so cool how you guys can turn life’s unpredictabilities into art.”

Taking a moment to let the conversation settle, Sam leaned back into the cushy sofa, his arm casually resting behind you on the back of the couch. “Honestly, it’s what keeps it all alive. Music, friendship, even the madness—if you can embrace it all, it makes the triumphs that much richer.”

Your eyes met his, and there was a understanding in the silence that followed, one that stretched beyond words. The stories, the struggles, the laughter—all wove together into an experience that you both cherished.

As you settled deeper into the blanket, you felt contentment wash over you anew. The gold of the setting sun faded into shadows outside, the room illuminated only by the soft flickering glow of the fire. The warmth between you felt like a harbor, anchoring the both of you in the present moment—a safe space where laughter, history, and genuine connection could thrive.

Feeling emboldened, you decided to dive deeper. “Speaking of songs, do you think you can write one with all the changes happening in our lives right now?”

He looked at you intently, his expression shifting thoughtfully. “For sure. It’s not just the crazy moments on tour—it’s the little things, the reconnections, the honest conversations. I think the feelings we’re going through right now are just as important.”

You smiled softly, the warmth of his words wrapping around you like the blanket you shared. “I’d love to hear how that transforms into music.”

“I promise I’ll write it down. Maybe we can even work on it together,” he suggested, that playful glint returning to his eyes, the allusion to past collaborations lingering in the air.

Your heart danced at his words, the prospect of shared creativity intertwining with the connection you had reignited. “I’d like that very much, Sam. Collaborating with you would be fantastic.”

He nodded with a satisfied smile, and again, a silence bloomed between you, but this time it was steeped with promise and possibility. As the fire crackled and the room darkened, the flickering shadows played across your faces, two souls wrapped in warmth, laughter—a reflection of the journey that had brought you both to this moment.

And there, beneath the soft glow of fading daylight, you found comfort not only in the stories you shared but in the future that stretched before you, painted with music, laughter, and above all, an effortlessly evolving connection.

As you nestled into Sam's side, the blanket wrapping snugly around both of you, a sense of warmth enveloped you both, not only from the fabric but from the connection that seemed to shimmer in the air. You felt a sense of comfort being this close, and it drew you even nearer, the soft sounds of the crackling fire filling the space around you.

“I’ve been following your journey online, you know,” you confessed softly, looking up at him with a smile. “Scrolling through Twitter during the tour has been quite the adventure, seeing everyone's reactions to your performances.”

A spark of curiosity flickered in his eyes. “Oh yeah? What were people saying?”

You giggled, letting the memories wash over you. “It’s hilarious! There were so many tweets about the lines forming for your shows. Some fans camped out for days in advance, posting about every silly thing they did to pass the time. I felt like a part of this massive movement!”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s wild! You’d think they were waiting for some major festival or something.”

“Exactly! And every time you guys finished a show, the excitement would literally explode on social media.” You took a moment to gather your thoughts, excitement bubbling within you. “I even made it to a few shows myself.”

“Oh really? You were there?” His interest peaked, and you could feel the warmth from his gaze as he leaned forward slightly.

“Yeah! I didn’t want to be too loud about it, but I watched from the back a couple of times,” you admitted, unable to hide the joy in your voice. “It was absolutely enchanting.”

He raised an eyebrow, curious. “Enchanting, huh? I like the sound of that.”

“No, seriously!” you laughed, your heart swelling with the memory. “Watching you on stage was mesmerizing. I could really see how into the music you got. The way you moved with the rhythm...” You trailed off for a moment, lost in the memory.

“Yeah? What did you think?” he urged, an eager smile tugging at his lips.

“I loved when you had your bass solo,” you said, excitement creeping into your voice. “The way you walked around the stage, engaging with the audience. It felt like you were sharing this incredible moment with everyone there. You’ve got this magnetic energy that pulls everyone in.”

A warm flush crept to his cheeks, and for a moment, his humility radiated through the modest smile on his face. “Wow. I appreciate that. I just try to make it feel personal, you know?”

You nodded enthusiastically, the memories firing off one after another. “Exactly! It felt like you were feeding off the crowd’s energy. The way you’d look out at everyone, and the smiles you exchanged—it was infectious!”

“I’m glad you felt that. I love the connection with the audience.” He paused, a glint of excitement in his eyes. “What most people don’t realize is how important they are to the show. Their reactions fuel me just as much as the music itself.”

You felt your heart flutter at the passion in his voice, a reminder of why you admired him so much. “And every time you handed out a pick, you could see the reactions. It was like handing them a piece of treasure! The way their faces lit up—there's something so special about that.”

He chuckled, a knowing smile crossing his face as he leaned back into the couch, continuing to bask in the shared memories. “It’s like a little moment of connection, isn’t it? Those picks become keepsakes for the fans. It’s a small way of giving them something to remember.”

“It is,” you agreed, feeling the heat of your conversation mingle with the warmth of the blanket. “And I loved seeing it. Watching people clutch those picks like they were golden tickets… it kind of made the whole experience feel magical.”

He glanced down at you, a smile gracing his lips. “Now I’m a bit self-conscious thinking about it, but I’m really glad you enjoyed it that much.”

You smiled back, your heart swelling anew. “How could I not? You were in your element, and it was so beautiful to see you shine. Watching you perform was like witnessing a symphony come to life.”

His laughter dotted the air softly, lifting the atmosphere between you. “You have a gift for words. Maybe you should be writing the song instead.”

Your heart fluttered at the thought, the lighthearted banter further deepening the warmth existing in that moment. “Who knows? Maybe you could add a ‘lyricist’ to my resume.”

“I like the sound of that! Adding to your list of talents,” he said, looking down at you with amusement. “What’s next? Life coach?”

You giggled, shrugging playfully. “I mean, I have been known to deliver some pretty sound advice...”

“Now I *have* to hear it,” he pressed, leaning closer, an amused expression dancing on his face. “Hit me with your best life advice.”

You thought for a moment, tapping your finger to your chin in mock contemplation. “Always bring snacks on road trips. It's essential for maintaining sanity! That—and keeping your friends close.”

“Wise words, truly.” His laughter blended with yours, the moment fostering an easy camaraderie, the very essence of friendship flowing through your words and warmth.

As you settled back into his side, savoring the gentle closeness, the conversation shifted, bubbling over with lightness and the warmth of shared memories. The backdrop of the fire crackling softly created a cozy atmosphere, wrapping around you in a loving embrace.

It felt good to reminisce about the tour and your adventures, but even more so, it felt good to be here, sharing those moments with him—his laughter, his warmth, and the joy of rediscovered connections mingling beautifully in the air.

And there, amidst the laughter and shared stories, you both created a memory all your own, a kind of magic that promised to grow, one conversation at a time.

As the warmth of laughter and connection settled around you both, the comforting crackle of the fire flickered gently in the background, casting a serene glow throughout the room. Sam had shifted slightly, leaning his head back against the soft musings of the couch, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest becoming steadier as the minutes passed. His eyelids, heavy and content, fluttered with the remnants of wakefulness before finally surrendering to a peaceful slumber.

You watched him, entranced by the serene aura that enveloped him as he nestled deeper into your lap, his hair fanning out like a dark halo across your legs. In that moment, the bonds of friendship seemed to intertwine with a deeper intimacy—one that felt both profoundly natural and blissfully perfect. You absentmindedly combed your fingers through his hair, letting the silky strands weave between them as thoughts of the evening glided through your mind.

With a gentle tug, you pulled the hair tie from Sam's hair, letting it cascade freely down, each strand curling slightly around his face. It was almost poetic—his hair flowing with the same graceful rhythm that had captured your admiration during his performances. As you settled comfortably into this newfound closeness, you felt compelled to play.

Curiosity sparked within you as you decided to experiment a little with his hair, almost as if it were an artistic endeavor. You gently gathered the long strands, separating them with a delicate touch, and began to braid them into a single ponytail once again. The careful movements felt meditative, each loop and twist taking on a life of its own.

“Now, let’s see how this works on you, Mr. Rockstar,” you whispered playfully, glancing down at him to watch his expression remain blissfully undisturbed. He simply sighed softly, deep in dreamland. Encouraged by his peaceful demeanor, you continued working.

Creating the braid lulled you into a calm rhythm, hands deftly weaving the strands together with gentle precision. You found yourself smiling, thinking of how he would look sporting a brand new style, completely unaware of your creative efforts. But just as your fingers settled comfortably, you released the braid, letting it unfurl and fall apart once more, strands cascading in waves back onto your lap.

This process of braiding and unbraiding felt oddly soothing, a quiet conversation between you and your companion without the need for words. Time seemed to slip through your fingers as you continued this delicate play, teasing his hair between your fingers while humming a soft melody you had inadvertently conjured up.

Every now and then, as you let the strands fall apart, he would shift slightly in his sleep, a quiet moan escaping his lips that sent a flutter through your heart. For a split second, you paused, the sound of his contentment wrapping around you like the embrace of a shared secret. It sounded so innocent, so vulnerable. You couldn’t help but feel a profound affection swell within you—a mixture of protectiveness and warmth that filled the room like the softest blanket.

After a moment, you resumed your gentle ministrations, braiding his hair again, fingers dancing between strands with precise intention. Each intricate weave melded your shared laughter, memories, and the warmth of togetherness into something tangible—something that felt deep and meaningful under each gentle twist of his hair.

With every new braid, you caught little glimpses of him in his dreams—small smiles playing on his lips as if he were reliving cherished moments from the tour or funny exchanges that had colored your conversations. Sam looked serene, his brow relaxed and his cheeks slightly flushed in the golden glow of the firelight.

You watched the way he nestled deeper into your lap, and for a moment, you marveled at how blissfully unaware he was. It was intimate in such a gentle way that you almost didn’t want it to ever end. As you tangled strands into another braid, you found yourself lost in thought. The vulnerability of the moment, the trust shown in how easily he had fallen asleep, tugged at your heartstrings in ways you had not anticipated.

Each new braid became a pathway for the affection you felt, weaving and flowing between braids and unravels, signifying the push and pull of emotions that danced around the two of you. You started to think about all the late-night conversations, all the concerts, and the laughter that bubbled up so easily between you two. The thought warmed you, wrapping around you like the blanket you shared with him, creating a cocoon of honest sharing and pure companionship.

As you continued this quiet ritual, he stirred slightly again, another soft sound slipping from his lips, as though echoing a distant memory. You paused, glancing down at him, momentarily losing yourself in the peaceful rise and fall of his chest. It was almost like he was calling out to you even in sleep, urging you to continue the tender act of care. And with that, you returned your focus to the strands of hair, starting again to play.

This rhythm flowed easily between you, wrapping time in layers of delicate connection. For a while longer, you focused on your braid, weaving in dreams, laughter, and the essence of who he was outside of the stage—the calm after the storm, if you will.

The combination of the crackling fire, the warmth of your bodies curled comfortably on the couch, and the gentle play with his hair created a bubble where the outside world began to fade away.

It was a surreal blend of reality and dreams, and within that intimate space, you felt as if this moment—this connection—was something effortlessly beautiful. And perhaps, it was.

As Sam settled deeper still, you traced your fingers across his forehead gently in the most tender of touches, and the pure, unguarded vulnerability in that quiet moment made your heart flutter again. His hair felt so soft beneath your fingers, and for just a moment longer, you indulged in the serene pleasure of this peaceful companionship, weaving the strands of his hair, almost as if to weave a bond that transcended words themselves.

The hours seemed to slip away as you became lost in the quiet charm of the moment, completely absorbed in the magic of simplicity—the essence of friendship that was evolving right before your eyes. A smile played on your lips as you let your thoughts drift, cradling him gently as he slept soundly, warmth radiating from the both of you.

And in the golden glow of that soft light, time ceased to exist, and you both savored the beauty of just being—tangled in friendship, laughter, and the way life had a knack for stitching together its most unexpected moments into something not just meaningful, but endlessly cherished.

As you continued your gentle ministrations with Sam's hair, the softness of the moment wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. The world outside slowly darkened, painted in deep shades of blue and indigo, quietly ushering in the late hour. You found yourself lost in the rhythm of the evening, shaping and reshaping the delicate strands of his hair, momentarily submerged in the wiggles of tranquility that filled the couch.

With a sigh, you pulled your gaze away from your delightful task and glanced towards the clock nestled on the mantle. The numbers glowed softly—far later than you had intended. Time had slipped away from you without fanfare, each moment merging seamlessly into the next. You felt a knot of warmth in your chest, half wishing you could freeze the time in this perfect, serendipitous place, yet realizing that the night was pressing on.

Looking outside, you saw that the vibrant hues of twilight had vanished, replaced by the dark cloak of night. The moon hung high above, radiating a silvery glow that illuminated the edges of the passing clouds. The stars peeked through as well, twinkling like a scatter of diamonds across the fabric of the sky. Yet with the night came a distinct chill that began to creep through the window, curling around the edges of the room, an insistent reminder of the late hour.

You turned your gaze back to him, still sound asleep in your lap, blissfully unaware of the passing time or the chill that encroached upon the cozy living room. His breathing was steady, and though he appeared peaceful, the cold air reminded you that maybe it was time to consider drifting off to bed. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight—his relaxed features, the way his lashes fanned gently against his cheeks—he looked utterly serene, like a child lost in the tranquility of a warm dream.

You brushed your fingers lightly against his forehead, wanting to keep him close, but knowing that the warmth of slumber would soon give way to chilliness if you didn’t act. Gently, you nudged his shoulder with the lightest of touches, careful not to startle him too much.

“Sammy...” you whispered softly, your voice barely piercing the quiet air. “It’s time to wake up.”

He stirred slightly, his brow furrowing before he let out a small sigh of contentment, but he didn’t quite rouse. You nudged him again, a little firmer this time, relishing the opportunity to tease him a bit. “Sammy, come on. It’s getting late.”

Finally, he cracked his eyes open, blinking against the dim light of the room. “Huh?” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. His gaze fell on you, a sleepy smile spreading across his lips. For a fleeting moment, he looked utterly adorable, still caught between the realms of dreams and waking reality.

You smiled back, brushing a stray strand of hair out of his face. “It’s really late, you know. The fire's died down, and it’s getting a bit chilly.”

He lifted his head from your lap, stretching his arms over his head with a yawn that made your heart flutter. “Wow, I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep,” he said, rubbing the remnants of drowsiness from his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Late enough that we should probably head to bed,” you said softly, leaning in to meet his gaze more directly. “We don’t want to freeze out here.”

With a lazy grin, he looked around the room, as if only just realizing how cold it had indeed become. “I guess I got a little too cozy,” he chuckled, shaking off the last vestiges of slumber. “Guess that’s what happens when you’re surrounded by two of my favorite things—good company and a warm blanket.”

Your cheeks warmed at his compliment. “I’m glad you feel that way,” you said sincerely, heart swelling with warmth. “But really, I don’t think we want to push our luck with the cold.”

“True,” he agreed, swinging his legs off the couch and sitting up fully. He stretched again, a fascinating set of movements that revealed the elegant nature of his body, the way years of performing had molded him into a beautiful form. You couldn’t help but appreciate the sight, a mix of admiration and the comforting familiarity coloring your gaze.

As he finally stood, you couldn’t help but admire the casual grace he possessed even in moments of drowsiness. He brushed the hair from his forehead with a half-hearted attempt to tame it, which made you stifle a giggle at how endearing he looked.

“Let’s grab some blankets and head to bed, then?” he suggested, his voice dipping lower with the suggestion, the idea of retreating into the warmth of the night drawing you both closer together.

“Sounds perfect,” you agreed, feeling a flutter of excitement building at the thought of snuggling up together after such a cozy evening. “I could use a warm bed after all this.”

“Lead the way!” he said, a playful glint in his eyes, and you found yourself smiling brightly as you headed towards the stairs that led up to the bedrooms.

As you ascended, you could hear the sound of his footsteps following closely behind, the rhythm of your movements blending into an understated melody that wrapped around you, adding another layer of comfort to the night. With each step, the chill dissipated, replaced with a warmth that thrummed quietly in your chest.

Once in your room, you swung open the linen closet, retrieving extra blankets that you wrapped around your arms like a comforting cocoon. Glancing over at Sam, you couldn’t help but let a soft smile slip onto your face as he pulled the curtains open, peering through the window at the starry night outside.

“I can’t get over how beautiful it is out tonight,” he remarked, his voice threaded with a hint of admiration. “It always feels like another world after a night like this.”

“And now we have our own little refuge,” you responded, a sense of contentment spreading through you. “We’ll be warm and cozy in here.”

He turned back to you, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “You know, if my hair keeps falling all over the place, I might have to borrow those good company skills to keep it tidy again.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you tossed him one of the blankets. “I think I can help with that! But right now, it’s time for some rest, don’t you think?”

His grin widened, and you could see the sleep still lingering in his eyes. “Definitely.”

As you settled into the bed, layering the warm blankets around you, you couldn’t help but feel that the day—though it had ebbed away—had transformed into something magical and real. The laughter you had shared, the moments of quiet intimacy, and now this gentle transition toward rest felt like a beautiful culmination of a night well spent.

You could sense that the warmth of friendship had deepened into something more—not overt, but definitely there, like those stars twinkling faintly in the night sky above you.

As you nestled into your blankets, feeling the comfort envelop you like a gentle embrace, you stole one last glance at Sam before you closed your eyes. He had settled himself beside you, cocooned in his blanket like a soft, sleepy giant. His eyes had begun to droop again, the peaceful look returning as he sank back into the warmth—not just of the covers, but, you realized, of this beautiful, unspoken bond that formed between you both.

“Goodnight, Sammy,” you whispered, voice thick with gentle affection.

“Goodnight,” he murmured sleepily, a soft smile gracing his features before he finally succumbed to the embrace of slumber once more.

With the stars gleaming outside and the warmth of your connection wrapping around you, you drifted off to sleep, heart lighter and mind filled with dreams of laughter, friendship, and the promise of many more nights like this to come.The night deepened steadily, and the world outside gradually transformed into a crisp, silent realm as the cold coiled itself around the house. Even with the warmth of the blankets and the intimacy of your shared space, the chill felt insistent beyond the window, a stark reminder that the winter night was far from forgiving. You could hear the wind whispering against the glass, an almost haunting sound that sent shivers dancing over your skin.

In the cocoon of your blankets, you felt warm and safe, the warmth between you and Sam a palpable comfort that ebbed and flowed like the quiet whispers of the night. You had sunk into a peaceful slumber, dreams flitting in and out like shadows. But suddenly, you sensed a stirring beside you—a shifting of the weight that seemed to draw your attention.

You blinked awake, momentarily disoriented as the dim light of the room seeped back into your consciousness. As your awareness came back, your gaze landed on Sam, who had pulled himself closer to you, his body pressing against yours with an urgency that seemed uncharacteristic of the calm from before. There was a softness in the way he nestled against you, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin, surrounded by the material of your blankets.

“Wow, it really got cold,” Sam mumbled sleepily, his voice muffled against you. You could feel his exhalations against your arm, and it sent a wave of warmth flooding through you, contrasting sharply with the chill creeping into the room.

You couldn’t help but stifle a giggle at the ticklish sensation that accompanied his slight facial hair brushing against your skin. The playful scratchiness felt both intimate and amusing, and you choked back another laugh as a ripple of warmth swept through you. It was a mixture of affection and something more, and you had to force yourself to focus, to rein in your bubbling mirth.

“Okay, okay, Mr. Cuddlebug,” you chided softly, pushing against him gently in a mock protest. “Are you trying to steal all my body heat?”

He chuckled lightly, his face still settled against your shoulder, creating a feeling of cozy closeness. “I can’t help it; you’re warmer than the blankets!” he exclaimed, a playful innocence in his tone. His fingers, in their warmth, found their way to your waist, encircling you slightly and pulling you closer.

You could feel your heart race in response, and for a fleeting moment, you basked in the comfort of his proximity, the way your bodies fit together so perfectly beneath the layers of blankets. However, as you settled back into the cushion of warmth, you became undeniably aware of a different tension that had built between you—something subtle but increasingly noticeable.

Sam’s body pressed against yours had suddenly shifted from a purely innocent cuddle to something a little more heated. As he nestled deeper into your side, you felt the unmistakable pressure of his arousal against you—a solid warmth pushing into your hip. You swallowed hard, sudden awareness flooding your senses with a mixture of surprise and something undeniably alluring.

The affectionate, cozy atmosphere blossomed into something charged, and it sent your thoughts spiraling in conflicting directions. Part of you wanted to tease him, to playfully bring attention to the situation, but another part—a more cautious side—felt the indescribable gravity pulling you both into unfamiliar territory. It was a sensation that blurred the line between friendship and something deeper.

“Um, Sammy…” your breath was caught in your throat, shaky and uncertain as you turned your head to glance down at him, intrigue licking at the edges of your hesitation. The room had grown unbearably still, the chill outside forgotten in the fervent warmth of that moment, yet a flicker of nervousness danced through you.

He lifted his head slightly, meeting your gaze with a drowsy smile. “What’s up?” His voice had a softness, a still murmur caught between sleep and waking, and it only served to amplify the unusual tension of the moment.

You sensed the vulnerability radiating off of him, that moment when both of your thoughts seemed to converge upon the same realization yet carried with it the weight of unvoiced expectations. “You’re… um,” you started, faltering slightly though you knew you needed to address what was becoming obvious. “You know you’ve got, like, a little—”

His expression shifted, realization dawning on him, and the playful, sleepy demeanor gave way to something more aware. His cheeks flushed lightly as he hastily shifted away from you, creating a space between you both as abrupt as it was unexpected. “Oh—wow, I didn’t mean to—sorry,” he stammered, the words coming out with a breathless rush.

Despite the sudden awkwardness, a giggle escaped your lips before you could hold it back. The laughter surprised you both, filling the room with an unexpected lightness, easing the tension that had sparked in that shared space. “Oops,” you mused playfully, your heart still racing, “Guess I should’ve seen that coming.”

With a sheepish smile, Sam ran a hand through his hair, looking slightly embarrassed but equally amused at the whole situation. “Yeah, I should’ve thought that through,” he admitted, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. “Guess I got a little too… comfortable?”

The laughter lifted, repeating in playful waves, and you found that the initial shock had morphed into an intimate moment—one that held the potential for deeper understanding and connection. It was a hesitation, a boundary that shifted ever so slightly in the warmth of your friendship, yet it felt inherently right—the tension transforming into a shared secret.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you said softly, the night being too enchanting for discomfort to linger. “We’re just two friends keeping warm, right?” You nudged him gently, teasing as you decided to playfully lean into the moment rather than shy away from it.

“Right, just two friends,” Sam echoed, a little more playfully now, his gaze meeting yours with that familiar spark of mischief you’d come to adore.

But even as the playful exploration lingered in the air around you, there was something unmistakably different now; the spark had flared brightly, and you could sense the acknowledgment that extended between you both, teetering in the grey area of friendship and something deeper.

You both sank back into the warmth of the blankets, laughter weaving into comforting silence, and though the laughter had eased the initial tension, you savored the understanding that hung in the air—a shared acknowledgment of hidden desires, of the closeness that drew you in yet again.

Time flowed more easily as you settled back into a comfortable position, Sam’s gaze flickering down to the blankets, a smile lingering on his lips. “Well, since it’s so cold out there, maybe we should keep the body warmth going? It’s definitely cozier that way,” he suggested, his tone laced with a sweetness that made your heart flutter.

“Yeah,” you responded, feeling a wisp of excitement surge within you. “Cozy sounds perfect.”

With that, he didn’t hesitate to pull you back into him, sharing warmth as he wrapped his arms around you once again, burying his face into the crook of your neck, brushing his facial hair against your skin once more in a way that sent delightful shivers tingling down your spine.

This time, though, the moment felt different—an electric thrill ran through you as he nestled in closer, the space between you almost nonexistent. It was a sweet surrender to both the chill outside and the warmth of the connection you both had, a promise woven in that intimate silence: that you would both navigate this new terrain together, exploring what lay ahead in the darkness of the night.

You melted into the warmth of Sam’s embrace, grateful for the cocoon of blankets that shielded you from the biting cold that continued to seep through the walls of the house. The winds outside howled with an unsettling fierceness, but inside, the atmosphere felt luxurious and safe. You reveled in the closeness, but as moments drifted by, the chill creeping into the room began to settle into your bones once more, a stark reminder that winter was relentless.

You couldn’t help but notice how Sam’s body radiated warmth against your skin, and the desire to snuggle in further began to pull at you. With much hesitation, you began to slowly push yourself back into him, feeling the inviting heat emanate from his body. As you nestled closer, the seamless bond between you grew thicker, pulsing with an energy that both excited and comforted you in equal measures.

However, the moment you shifted, you felt the unmistakable outline of his arousal pressing against you, more pronounced now than it had been before. A thrill ran through you—a blend of nervousness and exhilaration—as the proximity heightened your awareness of the situation. He grumbled softly, a sound that reverberated against your skin, sending an unexpected shiver through you.

“What are you doing?” he murmured, voice thick with sleep and still teetering on the edge of drowsiness. The inquiry was laced with both curiosity and something undeniably playful, and his tone sent sparks dancing through the space between you.

You stifled a giggle, and a soft smile broke over your face as you met his sleepy gaze. There was something about the way he looked at you, a blend of vulnerability and amusement that made your heart race just a little faster. “I’m just cold,” you replied, feeling adventurous, even daring, as the words slipped from your lips. “The blankets are nice, but there’s still a chill in the air, and you’re like a human furnace.”

You pushed in even closer, a playful challenge in the way you allowed your body to mold against him, reveling in the contrasts—the warmth you felt from Sam juxtaposed with the retrenching cold. His body reacted, muscles tensing in response to your movements, and for a moment, there was an overwhelming silence, each of you acutely aware of the newly charged atmosphere surrounding you both.

As you settled against him, you felt a flicker of mischief light up within Sam. He brought his face closer, his breath warm against your shoulder as he grazed his teeth softly against your skin, almost like a gentle warning—teasing yet commanding, summoning you to acknowledge the tenuous line you were both now dancing upon.

A gasp slipped through your lips, barely restrained, turning into an accidental whimper as the sensation sent an electrifying thrill through your spine. It was an instinctive reaction, drawn from reflex as you felt the warmth of him pressed firmly against you. In that moment, you realized how close you were to crossing from the comforting safety of friendship into something far more intense, something that sent your heart racing with excitement and trepidation.

The sound of your reaction hung thick in the air—a mixture of vulnerability, desire, and the realization of the intimacy you both shared—in that suspended moment where time seemed to stand still. The world outside faded into silence, and all you could focus on was the delightful tension simmering between your bodies.

It felt exhilarating yet disconcerting, that heady blend of fear and allure. You could feel Sam’s heartbeat against your back, the steady thrum echoing the words spoken in those simmering moments—words unvoiced but acknowledged all the same. It was a collective understanding that this wasn’t merely about comfort anymore. Something deeper was unfolding, an acknowledgment of the chemistry you both had long felt but was now pushing to the surface, begging to be explored.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you processed your surroundings, your fingers playing with the fabric of the blankets, caught somewhere in a liminal space between friendship and something entirely different. Your heart raced as your body responded to the intimacy—the closeness, the warmth, and the undeniable connection that seemed to weave itself tighter with each passing second.

It was a moment that seemed to encapsulate everything you had been feeling, everything that had been lingering in the unspoken air between you, and it felt both intoxicating and frightening. You could almost taste the anticipation hanging there, sparking into something electric, searching for an outlet, waiting for someone to take that leap further into the unknown.

And so you lingered, wrapped in the warmth of impending change, wondering where the night and your burgeoning connection might lead.

The tension in the air morphed from electricity to playful teasing in an instant, the magic of that moment lightening up at Sam’s smirk as he leaned back slightly, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise. “Wow, someone’s a little sensitive,” he joked, a playful laugh escaping his lips. “Whimpering already? I didn’t think I had that effect on you yet.”

His teasing carried a familiar tone, one that stirred memories you had thought buried. It brought back the days when you two were practically enemies, rivals in everything—classes, sports, and even friendships. The banter was always quick and sharp, filled with snarky comments and snide invitations to outdo one another. You could remember the countless times you had glared at each other across the room, daring another to take the first step into a confrontation.

The nostalgic rush of memories made your heart race for entirely different reasons, and in that instant, your body reacted as if struck by a light bolt. You shot straight up from the bed, the blankets pooling around you in a chaotic mess as your mind jumbled through emotions, battle scars of rivalry colliding with the familiar warmth of affection.

“Are you serious right now?” you exclaimed, voice rising with incredulity. “We were doing so well! How could you fuck it up like this?” The words tumbled from your mouth, a mixture of frustration and disbelief, shockwaves of your past echoing in the heat of your outburst.

Sam's eyebrow shot up in genuine surprise at your sudden shift, the previously playful atmosphere hanging heavily between you. “Wait, what?” he replied, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement despite the severity of your tone. “I was just teasing! You didn’t have to go all dramatic on me.”

You felt a slight rush of adrenaline, the heart-pounding kind that had defined so many of your earlier encounters. There was a thrill in standing up to him, showing that the warmth and affection couldn’t mask the fire you’d once wielded so easily. But before you could walk fully away from the bed, Sam’s arm shot out, gripping your wrist and pulling you back down with surprising strength.

“Hey! If you keep complaining about everything I do, I might just have to give you something better to do with your mouth,” he purred, a mischievous glint in his eye that left no room for doubt as to the implications of his words.

His tone hung in the air between you, an unspoken challenge woven through his suggestion—one that danced brazenly along the edges of the playful rivalry you had once thrived on. You couldn’t help but scoff, a laugh bubbling up from your core at his audacity. “Oh please,” you shot back, arching an eyebrow as you faced him, a teasing smile creeping onto your lips. “You wouldn’t be giving me much to work with.”

The moment hung there, throbbing with tension, humor mingling with the intensity of your previous exchanges. Sam chuckled, the sound warm in the cozy room, and his reluctance to retreat from your banter was palpable, a friendly duel of words as natural as breathing.

“Is that so?” he challenged, his voice low and playful, running his fingers through his hair in that familiar way that always made him seem effortlessly charming. “You’re not even considering what I could do if you stopped being so dramatic for just a minute.”

“Oh, dramatic? Look who’s talking,” you countered, your heart racing at the sheer audacity of your conversation. “Do you seriously think I’m going to just sit here and take it?”

“Are you sure you want to challenge me?” he shot back, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Because I could definitely make it worth your while if you let me.”

Feeling emboldened by your tension, you leaned forward just a fraction, closing the space between you two again. “I’m not afraid of you, Sam,” you declared, the words coming out with a playful bite, pulling your old personas of rivalry into a new territory that was somehow easier to navigate grounded in this warmth and shared comfort.

“But, in that case,” he said, leaning in as well, lips curving into a smirk, “you might want to brace yourself.”

A surge of excitement coursed through you as you felt the playful challenge hanging in the air. The dynamic had shifted so decidedly from your past encounters, intertwining the comfort of camaraderie with the thrill of newfound exploration. As you teetered on the precipice of uncertainty, there was an undeniable chemistry shared in those moments, a fire igniting between you as your words danced like flames in a gentle summer breeze.

“Bring it on,” you whispered back, heart pounding at the thrill of the shift. The night felt electric again; the stakes had transformed into something deliciously unpredictable, eager for the two of you to navigate the terrain of what came next.

You both lingered there, on the brink of something new, laughter and teasing biting at the edges, enveloped in warmth, words igniting the very spark that had drawn you together in the first place. It was a heady mix of everything you had been, and everything you could become, wrapped in the bittersweet tension of your shared history and the promise of an exhilarating future yet unwritten.

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justagalwhowrites · 5 months

Text

Yearling - Ch. 35: Answers

You leave Jackson to find your daughters. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-34 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 5.4k

A/N: We are into the final arc of Yearling and we are going to see some TLOU 2 OVERLAP again. There isn't any this chapter but there will be in this arc and here's how: a character from that game will be mentioned as will the spoiler-y incident from a few chapters ago. What happens plot wise in this arc is completely separate from the game and entirely original content BUT there is that character overlap and more specific mentions of the incident and the motives behind it. If you're trying to go in blind to season 2, it might be wise to step back. Feel free to send me a DM, I'm happy to answer any and all questions!

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

It was hard not to panic when the world was ending.

You’d lived through it enough by now, you thought you’d get used to it.

You never did.

“Who has them, Kyle?” You asked, holding the boy’s shoulders, searching his eyes. He was still panting for breath, still looking terrified. “I need you to focus, who has them.”

“That man, the one who was here a few months ago but left,” he said. “I can’t… He gave me so much to remember and I can’t…”

“Cody?” You asked quickly, even though you knew you were right, your chest tight. “Does that sound right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded quickly. “Yes, Cody, it was Cody, he has them. He sent me here, to find you. He told me to bring you and just you back, said if we came with anyone else he’d kill them. I’m so sorry, Mrs. Miller, I was just trying to help, I swear…”

Your head spun but you didn’t have time to try to calm yourself down or even come up with a fucking plan.

“Did he say why?” You asked, leaving the teenager hovering in your doorway as you went to your kitchen. You found a notebook and ripped a piece of paper out of it, the pen hovering over it for a moment. Like once you wrote what was going to happen there was no turning back.

“He said you owed him,” he said. “And he that he would collect with them if it wasn’t with you. He said you’d know what that meant.”

You held the pen a little tighter. You did know what he meant and you knew the kind of man Cody was, what he would take if you let him.

You couldn’t let him.

“Kyle, go in the closet by the front door,” you said, wondering how your voice wasn’t shaking. “There’s my patrol pack in there, it has my flashlight, my axe and my knife. Get them.”

It wasn’t going to be enough but you didn’t have guns in the house and getting one would require talking to someone else, something you couldn’t risk, not when it was Savvy and Ellie on the line. You’d have to make do.

You tried to think of what to say to Joel, the man you loved more than you ever thought it was possible to love someone like that. How did you say goodbye to someone who meant that much to you when you didn’t want to leave?

You did the best you could, signing your name - your real one - for the first time since you’d married Joel.

“Found them,” Kyle said as you folded the paper in half and wrote Joel’s name on one side of it, leaving the note leaning against the flowers that he had picked for you before leaving town. You looked around the kitchen, at the spot on the counter where you perched as your husband cooked for you and the table where you sat with him and took a deep breath, hoping you’d see it all again.

“You know where to go, right?” You asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I memorized it.”

“OK,” you said, clipping your knife to your belt, thankful that you’d just fallen asleep fully clothed so you didn’t have to stop to get dressed. You were in one of Joel’s shirts. You always were, when he was outside Jackson, when he promised to come home to you. “Lead the way.”

You followed Kyle through the dark, quiet town. Even the Tipsy Bison was silent and you realized you weren’t sure what time it was but it had to be late, at least 3 a.m.

“We’ll have to sneak out,” Kyle said, his voice low. “It’s what we did when…”

You couldn’t think about it.

“Show me.”

There was an area of the fence, covered by a woodpile and not far from the schoolhouse, that easily pried apart, leaving enough room for a person to slip outside.

Kyle climbed through first and held it for you to follow before the two of you scrambled for the nearest tree line, hoping that you made it out of town unnoticed.

“How far?” You asked, looking back over your shoulder, your heart pounding.

“Three hours, I think,” he said. “I’m so sorry Mrs. Miller…”

“Tell me all of it,” you said, ignoring his apology. It didn’t matter now. “I need to know what we’re walking into.”

It made so much sense when he laid it out for you.

Savvy and Ellie had snuck out of Jackson the first night Joel was gone, the friends they were hanging out with apparently slipping out regularly. They stashed some pot outside the walls and liked to go sit and smoke when they thought they wouldn’t get into trouble, where they felt like they had some freedom. It was so typical of teenagers, it was almost funny. That even in the apocalypse, in a place like Jackson, the children found ways to rebel. Kyle and Savvy had wandered off from the group. They didn’t go far, just far enough that they felt like they had some privacy. Kyle wanted to ask her to the dance that was happening in a few weeks.

That’s where they ran into Cody.

He’d been nice, at first. Asking after Jackson, how things had been there. How he was thinking about trying to come back. He asked for information, enough that Savvy was starting to feel skeptical.

And then Ellie found them.

Ellie was worried, thinking that Savvy had been off on her own with a boy a little too long, and set off to find them. But she’d snapped when she saw Cody. She was a smart girl, she didn’t leave Jackson unarmed and she put her knife to Cody’s throat.

He’d just smiled, something in his eyes that made Kyle uneasy, more uneasy than Ellie’s knife did.

“Should fucking kill you right now,” Ellie had said, getting in his face. “Joel never should have let you live, I don’t give a fuck what she says…”

“Ellie!” Savvy tried to go for her but Kyle stopped her, catching her around her waist and holding her back. “You can’t just kill him, he hasn’t done anything!”

“Should listen to your sister, little girl,” Cody smirked. “I don’t come back, there’s a whole new set of problems for that perfect little town of yours.”

“Fuck you,” Ellie spat.

“You that serious?” He asked. “Come and get me. Tomorrow night. Bring your mom.” He’d looked at Savvy in a way that made Kyle feel sick. “And get your sister on board. Something tells me she might not know the real reason I left Jackson.”

Cody walked away then, Ellie’s grip still tight on the knife for a minute before she put an arm around Savvy and stalked back off toward town. Kyle couldn’t hear what they were saying.

When they made it back as dawn was on the horizon, he still wasn’t sure what set Ellie off. He wasn’t sure when Ellie and Savvy came to him the next afternoon, either, to ask him to go with them to find Cody that night.

“I want to have the upper hand,” Ellie had said. “And you already know about him.”

Savvy looked different then, something set and angry on her face. Kyle tried to ask her what was wrong but she wouldn’t tell him. He just went along with their plan, Ellie and Savvy out for Cody’s blood and Kyle wanting to keep the girl he was starting to fall for safe.

But they made a mistake.

They were outnumbered from the start, Cody bringing a dozen men to capture them. Ellie killed one as Kyle tried to run with Savvy but they failed.

“Thought I told you to bring your mom,” Cody had said. “But that’s OK. Sure we can work something out.”

He hauled the three of them away, walking a few hours into the forest, before sending Kyle back to Jackson to get you.

It explained so much of what had happened over the last day. The cagey way Ellie and Savvy were talking in the mess hall, the way Savvy had hugged you - Ellie had to have told her something - like she hadn’t in months, the odd way they were acting when you checked on them that night.

“How many men were there?” You asked.

“A lot,” Kyle said. “I don’t know for sure. At least 12 to grab us, we met up with probably another dozen or so after that…”

“Right,” you said, your heart clenching. You weren’t making it out of this. You tried to resign yourself to that, that the best you could hope for right now was getting the kids out in one piece. “Did he say what he wanted?”

“Besides you?” Kyle asked. “No. I’m sorry, Mrs. Miller…”

“It’s OK,” you said, trying to keep him calm. “You did your best, you stayed alive, that’s the important thing.”

The two of you walked in silence for a while, your heart pounding the whole time. You focused on getting to the girls. That’s all that mattered. You tried not to think about what was waiting for you on the other side of it.

“When we find them, let me do the talking,” you said as the sunrise tinted the horizon red. “And stay behind me. If you see a chance to get Savvy or Ellie away, do it. Otherwise, do what I tell you.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, a tremble in his voice. “I’m really sorry, Mrs. Miller, I didn’t mean…”

“I know,” you said quietly. “Just get them home.”

You caught a glimpse of someone moving in the woods then, just on the edge of your vision, your head whipping around to track the motion on instinct. It was baked into you still, moving through the forest alone, being on guard, knowing when you were being watched. You’d survived most of your life that way and years in Jackson hadn’t pulled it out of you. The second you realized it was a man and not an animal, you adjusted your grip on your axe with one hand and reached behind you with the other, shifting your body so you were between Kyle and the man.

It took you half a second to place his familiar face, one of Mitchum’s henchmen who was low enough that he wasn’t allowed to touch you, a slow smirk spreading over his face.

“Well ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he emerged from a fern and gave a long, low whistle. “Mitchum’s been lookin’ for you.”

“Bet he’s been lookin’ for you, too,” your hold on the axe tightened. You wanted to kill him but you couldn’t, not when you didn’t know where Ellie and Savvy were. “Unless you’re still his little bitch. But I don’t think he took too kindly to you taking off on him to serve some other asshole.”

“You always did have a mouth on you,” he said, trees and brush at your back starting to rustle. “But look where that got you.”

“And you were up his ass for how long?” You asked. “Where’d that get you, exactly?”

His eyes narrowed and you tracked where you were hearing movement around you, the sound drawing closer. Kyle’s shaky hand grabbed at your bicep.

“Don’t think the boss would be too happy with you picking a fight with our biggest commodity,” a man said from behind you. Kyle gasped and you felt him jump but you kept your eyes on the first man. “You know what he wants with her.”

“And what’s that, exactly?” You called over your shoulder, still tracking where Kyle was with your unoccupied hand.

“Leverage, of course,” the man came around to the front of you, smirking just like his friend. You didn’t recognize him. “Mitchum has the biggest operation around these parts and you, it seems, are the only thing he wants that he doesn’t have. Give him you on a silver platter? We get first pick of new territory.”

He looked you up and down in a way that reminded you of inspecting livestock. Your stomach turned.

“Don’t really see what all the fuss is about but,” he shrugged. “Don’t really give a shit.”

“You got my girls?” You asked, cutting to the chase.

His smile grew.

“So the boss was right,” he shook his head a little. “You women, so predictable…”

“If they’re not in one piece, I got no reason to leave you two idiots alive,” you snapped, losing your patience. You needed to see your daughters and you needed to see them now. “So if you don’t want my axe in your goddamn chest, you’re gonna take me to them right fucking now.”

He licked his lips.

“Might get the fuss a little more now,” he said, stepping close to you. He knew he had you, knew that you wouldn’t do anything that would risk Savvy or Ellie. “Gonna need that axe and knife and anything else you got on you or the boy. Then we’ll see if we can’t find your girls.”

You narrowed your eyes but surrendered your weapons anyway.

“Mrs. Miller…” Kyle whispered but you shushed him.

“I’ll keep you safe,” you glanced behind you toward him. “Stay calm and do what they tell you.”

You turned your attention back to the men in front of you, more emerging from the trees now.

“If you’ve hurt either of them, you have no idea the shit storm you just brought down on your heads.”

“Not much of a threat without your little toys,” he looked them over. “Something tells me we can take you just fine unarmed.”

“Cody tell you what I did to the men who tried to catch me last time I got out?” You asked, brows raised. For half a moment, there was a flash of concern on the first man’s face. You nodded to him. “He knows. Take me to my girls before you find out first hand.”

The second man quirked his jaw before jerking his head in the direction you’d been walking.

“Keep up.”

You only needed to follow them another 15 minutes or so, your heart pounding the whole time. Eventually, you came upon a clearing, a fire dying at the center of it with Cody standing right behind it, watching you approach with a satisfied smirk on his face.

“Hey there baby doll,” he said, prowling around the fire to meet you. “You don’t look too happy to see me.”

“Where are my daughters.”

He ignored you, like you hadn’t spoken at all.

“You’d think that, after last time, you’d learn…”

“Where are my daughters.”

“…that you should at least pretend to be grateful when you see me…”

Your patience was gone. If he didn’t have Ellie and Savvy, there was no point to this. No point to his game, no point to trying to make it out alive. You needed to see them and you needed to see them now.

The man at your left had a handgun in a holster on his right, one he wasn’t paying close attention to, his hands on his rifle that was strapped across his body. You, on the other hand, had paid attention.

You went for the gun, moving fast enough that he didn’t know what was happening until he felt the tug of you pulling the weapon from his side, turning to face you with a frown on his face after you freed the revolver, pulling the hammer back as you raised it and pulled the trigger. He dropped, Kyle screaming in shock at your back, and you turned the gun on Cody, pulling the hammer back again.

“WHERE ARE MY FUCKING KIDS!”

You could feel every gun and eye turn to you as you fought to control your breathing, the sound of birds taking flight the only sound beyond the echo of the gunshot and your scream. But you knew they wouldn’t shoot you, not when you were apparently so valuable to their boss and their boss was still breathing. And if they were smart, the wouldn’t hurt Savvy or Ellie, either.

“You know you wouldn’t make it out of here alive,” Cody said, stepping closer, until the barrel of the gun was in his chest.

“You think that matters if they’re gone?” You asked, brows raised. “If you killed them, all that matters is that I kill as many of you as I can before you take me down and I’m a damn good shot. So. Give me my daughters or another one of these fuckers dies.”

He gave you a cocky smirk and whistled. There was rustling somewhere you couldn’t see but, after a moment, three men brought out Savvy and Ellie, bound and gagged. You clenched your jaw but stayed still, eyes ranging over them as quickly as you could, looking for all signs of injury. They were still dressed, a good sign. Ellie had a cut at her forehead, Savvy had a bloody bandage at her arm. You clenched your fist on the revolver.

“See?” Cody said. “All in one piece. Now, hand over the gun before we have to change that.”

Ellie’s eyes went wide and she shook her head at you, frantic, but you ignored her.

“Untie them,” you said, gun still in his chest.

“Gonna need a little more incentive than that,” he said. “I know how you are with people who do you favors…”

“Untie them,” you said again, pulling your eyes away from the girls to meet his. “Let me talk to them, make sure they’re OK, then let them go with their friend. And I mean let them go, your men stay where I can fuckin’ see ‘em. You do that? I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” He asked, looking you up and down.

Your stomach turned.

“You heard me,” you spat.

He mulled it over for a second before smiling, cocky.

“Deal,” he said, jerking his head toward one of his men. They moved to untie Savvy and Ellie. “I’ll take that gun now.”

You lowered the weapon and turned it around in your hand before holding it out to him, handle first. He took it.

“Good as you are, don’t know if I ever thought your pussy was worth all the fuss Mitchum made over you,” he said, handing the gun to one of his henchmen. “But damn if it ain’t fun to watch you break.”

“Mom!” Savvy was freed first, running for you and throwing her arms around your neck. You clutched onto her, clinging to her, breathing in the scent of her, floral with a hint of apple and hay and gunpowder. “I’m so sorry, Mom, I’m so sorry…”

“It’s OK,” your voice was thick and you tried to focus on how she felt in your arms so you could hold onto that memory before stepping back from her. “Are you OK? They touch you?”

“I’m fine,” she sniffed. “They got my arm a little but…”

“They haven’t touched you since you’ve been here?” You asked, brows raised. “No one’s hurt you or…”

“No,” she shook her head. “No, they tied us up but they haven’t done anything.”

“Good,” you nodded, brushing her thick curls back from her forehead. “That’s good.”

Ellie approached you cautiously, like she was waiting for you to yell at her but you didn’t. You didn’t even want to, there was no point to it. Instead, you pulled her into your arms and held her tight as she pressed her face into your shoulder. You tried to remember her, too, the daughter who came into your life so late and that you desperately wanted more time with.

“I’m sorry,” she said, voice thick and wet. “I thought I could handle it, I thought…”

“S’OK,” you said, stepping back from her and looking her over, too. Her lip was split and the blood at her forehead was dried, the cut there scabbing over. “Ellie, I need you to listen to me. You’re in charge, OK? You’re going to get Savvy and Kyle back to Jackson…”

“But -”

“No,” you said, harsher than you really meant. “This ain’t a discussion, this is me telling you what you’re going to do, do you understand me.”

“I can’t just leave you here!” Her eyes were wide and desperate and you forced yourself to be calm.

“Yes, you can,” you said, taking her by the shoulders. “Ellie, the most important thing you can do right now is take care of your sister, do you understand me?” She nodded. “You get her and Kyle back to town. You’ve patrolled, you know how to do it safely. Get them there. That’s your job, they are your responsibility. Promise me you’ll get them home.”

She looked like she wanted to argue but you held her tighter.

“Ellie,” you said. “Promise me.”

“But…”

“Promise me!” You yelled it, loud enough that you saw Savvy flinch out of the corner of your eye.

“I promise,” she said, crying now.

It was like a weight lifted. You knew it was hours back to Jackson but, if Ellie actually kept her word, they’d make it. They would be safe. That was all that mattered.

“Thank you,” you pulled her in for another hug, kissing her cheek as you did. “I love you so much. Take care of yourself and your dad for me, OK?”

“I love you too,” she breathed.

You gave her a final squeeze and went for Savvy who was fighting back tears.

“Mom,” her voice was thick and wet. “I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” you said gently. “Go with Ellie, do what she tells you and you’ll get back safe. Listen to Joel, stick with school, find your place in Jackson. Have a good life, OK?”

She shook her head.

“I don’t want to do it without you,” she’d given up on not crying now. “I tried to before and I don’t want that, you need to be there, Mom, I need you, I…”

“Savvy,” you said, holding her face in your hands, brushing her tear-streaked cheeks with your thumbs. “Everything I’ve done for as long as you’ve been mine has been for you but you don’t need me now. You’re all that matters. You get back safe, you have a good life with people you love. You do that and I’ll have done everything I needed to do. So give me that, OK?”

You didn’t give her a chance to reply, just pulling her in close and holding her there, kissing her cheek as you did.

“I love you so much, baby girl,” you whispered.

“I love you, too,” she said.

You stepped back and looked at them for a moment before casting a glance at Cody.

“They need weapons.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal.”

You rounded on him.

“Give them weapons,” you said through clenched teeth. “Or I’ll kill as many of your men as I can between here and Mitchum.”

He smirked a little before jerking his head in the direction of one of his men. They surrendered knives you recognized - ones you were sure Ellie and Savvy had come here with - and your axe.

“Better get going,” Cody said. “Before I change my mind.”

You just nodded and watched them go, Ellie and Savvy looking back at you as long as they could, Ellie pulling Savvy along side her as they went. You kept looking at the place where they’d been long after you couldn’t see them anymore.

“Alright Doll,” Cody said eventually, stepping forward with cuffs in his hands. “Wrists together. Not about to risk you changing your mind on that deal. You’re a little too valuable and it’s time for me to cash in.”

***

“Joel.”

Tommy sounded desperate. Joel ignored him.

“You can’t just take off…”

Tommy’s hand came to Joel’s shoulder but he ripped it off, rounding on his brother, moving quickly and decisively and backing the younger, smaller man into a building.

“You tryin’ to tell me I can’t protect my family?” Joel towered over him. “You gonna try and stop me?”

“Can’t do shit for them if you run out there hot headed,” Tommy said, his eyes darting over Joel’s face, like he was watching a wild animal. “You can’t help them if you’re dead, you need to wait, you need a plan…”

“I have a fuckin’ plan!” He didn’t have time for this. “Get my girls back. Don’t try to fuckin’ stop me.”

“Joel,” Maria’s voice was behind him, calm and collected. He turned to face her, ready to go through her, too, if he had to. “We have everyone out looking for them, there are no fresh horses because we sent everyone we had as soon as we could. We’re looking for their trail but they could be anywhere. Wait until we have people back to go with you, wait until we know where they went. If you run off now, you’re only going to make it worse. You’ll waste time. Give it a few hours, Joel.”

“A few hours?” He bit out. “You want me to sit here for a few fuckin’ hours while that monster has my wife and kids? Expect me to let him hurt them for hours while I fuckin’ wait?”

Maria didn’t have a chance to respond, the sound of chaos at the gate sending the three of them running for it.

Joel reached it just as three horses rode up. It took him a moment to realize they each carried more than one rider. His heart pounded. For one second - a glorious, peaceful second - he thought everything was going to be OK. That they’d found you and the girls before anything bad happened, that he was going to be able to hold the three of you close and never let you go again.

And then he realized that you weren’t there. That you’d gotten the children you shared with him back but you hadn’t made it.

“Joel!” Ellie jumped off her horse before it had fully stopped. “Joel, he has Bambi, we have to go get her, we have to.”

She threw her arms around his neck and clung to him and he could feel her taking shaky breaths.

“It’s OK Baby Girl,” he said, holding her close. “I’ve got you, you’re OK.”

“We have to go get her,” Ellie said again, frantic as she pulled back from him. “We have to.”

Joel, Tommy and Maria led the girls and a trembling Kyle to the clinic. Ellie and Savvy didn’t wait for the doctor to be done looking them over as they sat beside each other on the exam table, the story spilling out of them quickly. How they’d lied to you and snuck out of Jackson the first night he was gone. How they’d run into Cody in the woods. How Ellie threatened to kill him and Savvy didn’t understand why. How he told them to come back the next night with you. How Ellie had told Savvy everything she knew about what happened to you. How Savvy wanted to leave then and there to take care of it and Ellie had to make her wait, confident that they could handle him. How Ellie had killed men like him before, how she was sure she could do it again. How they got help from Kyle to be sure. How it had all gone to shit the second they were too far from Jackson to get help. How you’d come for them, how you’d sacrificed yourself to get the three of them out safely.

How Joel knew that’s exactly what you would do.

Because of course you would. It was exactly what he would have done. How would you have done anything else?

“We need to get her back, Joel,” Savvy was crying, pleading. “We can’t leave her there with him, we can’t, please…”

Joel looked between the two of them. He wanted to scream. He wanted to ask why. Why had they snuck out? Why had they tried to take matters into their own hands? Why had they put themselves in such danger? Didn’t they know, if they failed, you’d have no choice? That you would do anything for them? That he would, too?

But yelling and questioning wouldn’t do any good. What was done was done. Taking his fear out on them would only make shit worse.

“I’m gonna get her back, Baby Girl,” Joel said. “I’m gonna bring her home.”

He turned and gave Tommy a look, half begging for help, half daring him to stop him. Tommy just squared his jaw and gave him a single, firm nod. Joe returned it and the went to leave, but Ellie stopped them, catching them on the porch of the clinic.

“I’m coming, too.”

“No,” Joel shook his head. “No, you’re stayin’ here…”

“No,” she said sharply, a fierce look in her eyes. “I’m going. I can help, I know…”

“It don’t matter,” Joel cut her off. “Not putting you at risk…”

“I don’t care about the risk!” She snapped. “You can’t just expect me to sit here on my ass while she’s out there…”

“You think she’d want you gettin’ hurt for her?” Joel grabbed Ellie by the shoulders and held her tighter than he should. “She took care of you by…”

“By cleaning up a fucking mess I made!” She yelled before closing her eyes for a moment, a single tear slipping down her cheek. She took a deep, centering breath before opening her eyes again, voice calmer now. “I never had parents, Joel. I never had anyone who loved me like that until you and then she showed up and she didn’t have any fucking reason to care about me like that but she did. She’s my mom and I got her hurt because I tried to handle shit on my own. I’m not handling it on my own now, I’m handling it with you. I know what you’re capable of. I know what you’re going to do. I’m telling you that I don’t want to be here when you do it, I want to be with you. I want to get her back and I want to make him fucking pay and I can’t do that from Jackson. So are you going to let me come with you or are you going to make me sneak out and try to handle this shit on my own again?”

Joel looked to his brother. He’d done shit like this more times than he cared to count but only twice with stakes as high as this. Every time, it was either alone or with Tommy at his side. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do what he normally did with Ellie there. He’d be worrying about her, watching for her, protecting her.

But they were out numbered and Ellie was a strong rider who was smart and good with a gun.

“She’s an adult, Joel,” Tommy said hesitantly. Joel could see in his eyes that he was thinking about William, if he would let his son do something so reckless if he had any say. “And she does a good job on patrol.”

Joel took a deep breath.

“You gotta listen,” he said. Ellie was already nodding quickly. “Do what I say so I can keep us all safe. I tell you to get back to Jackson, you do it. If you’re a liability out there, you’re makin’ things worse for her, not better. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Repeat it.”

“What you say goes,” she said, watching him closely. “I won’t fuck up, Dad. I promise.”

In another time, another place, Joel’s heart would have soared in that moment. Just knowing that Ellie saw him the same way he saw her made him feel complete in a way he didn’t realize he was missing.

But he wasn’t able to enjoy it. There was another vital piece of him that was gone, one he was going to get back if it was the last thing he ever did.

“OK,” he said, looking at Ellie. “Let’s go get your mom.”

Next Chapter

A/N: Figured we'd kick off the more feral part of this fic with some Feral!Bambi. Don't worry, Feral!Joel fans, he's up next ❤️ As always, thank you so so much for reading and for sticking it out with this fic! I know it's been a long one. I'm glad you're still here. Love you!

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#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc

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asumofwords · 1 year

Text

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello angels, here is another chapter! As always thank you all for the love you show me and all your kind words, I love reading all of your messages and comments/replies!! Everyone seems to love Gwayne Hightower lol !

Setting a boundary here: Please stop asking me when the next update is going to be when there has been a ONE DAY BREAK, its really rude and fucking annoying hehe (i'm at my breaking point with these dms).

ANYWAY... I wrote this chapter ages ago ahead of time and have been itching to get you all here... hehe... Enjoy <3

Chapter 64: A Bee

You walked around the Keep aimlessly, looking at the different Lords and Ladies who shuffled aimlessly through the castle, thinking of who you could pursue. You thought of how Aegon and Aemond had both happily, and openly found pleasure with others. And how women like your mother were punished for doing the same.

You had left your chambers with clarity in your mind. You would find someone else. If Aemond was to travel and love another, then you would too, only minus the travel.

They could be your ally in the Keep. You could spend your time talking to them and enjoying your days in each others company. You would not be so alone in the Keep. And above all of this, it could be advantageous.

When you left your chambers, you walked with no destination round the Keep. More specifically, the areas were Lords and Ladies would frequently pass. You had walked and observed, watched and deliberated on who would be a good match for you.

You thought of the names you already knew.

Perhaps the Lannister? But even the idea of taking him into your bed made your skin crawl, for all of Aemond’s cruelty, you knew that he would at least bring you pleasure, and doubted that the Lannister even knew how.

You thought of Cregan Stark. Now he would be a good match. He was about your age, a few years older, maybe the same as Aemond. He was, from what you had been told, a handsome and respectful Lord. He was said to have the famed dark, curly hair of the Starks and eyes to match. But he was in the North, and thankfully allied to your mother, and you doubted that he would be able to sneak into the Keep unnoticed, nor you be able to send word to him by raven.

It would have to be someone who came to the Red Keep frequently.

Or resided in Kings Landing at least.

You let yourself lean against a wall in a hallway, watching potential suitors walk past you. To your dismay, most of the Lords were old and balding, whilst the women refused to meet your gaze. You thought of Ser Criston Cole, but shrugged the thought away quickly with a shiver. He would not come to your bed willing and at the slightest hint of your plotting he would tuck tail and run to his precious Hightower Queen. You would do well to avoid him at all costs.

Lest you end up like you mother.

You shuddered at the thought and continued to watch the people walk about the Keep.

And then you saw someone promising.

He was tall, though not as tall as Aemond, and with a regular build. His skin was pale and dark curled hair was cut close to his head. He was not the most handsome man you had seen, but in a Keep with limited options you thought he would be a good enough.

Lord Jasper Wylde, Master of Laws, member of Aegon’s small council, walked through the halls slowly, large tome and parchment in hand. His eyes were a light brown, and he had a trimmed dark beard around his face. His face was stern and his eyes were hard, a most serious looking man.

You smiled at him gently as he walked closer towards you, moving to pass you in the halls.

“Lord Wylde.” You greeted, straightening your posture as you smiled sweetly at him.

You had not spoken once to the man, merely been in his presence a few times, including once when you has dined with Aegon on your wedding night. The Lord slowed his step and looked down at you, hint of interest in his eyes.

Perfect.

“Princess.” He greeted back, and moved to continue his walk. You pushed away from the wall to come beside him, his eyes watching your move.

“Might I accompany you on your walk?” You asked sweetly, hands behind your back as you pushed your chest forward subtly. You felt a prickle run along your skin.

You had heard from Saria that the Lord was known as Ironrod to the small folk, for he was unbending and immovable with his beliefs. A small voice wondered that if he was called Ironrod for another reason. Lord Jasper had sired over twenty-nine children, and had wed four wives, three of whom you knew had died in child birth.

“Of course, My Lady.” Wylde responded, uncertainty in his voice as you slowly began to walk together through the halls of the Red Keep.

“I must apologise for my behaviour in the Throne room the other day,” You began, knowing that he had witnessed your outburst. You needed to be sweet, saccharine, a docile woman he may take advantage of, “I was finding myself emotional after so long apart from my husband.” You looked down shyly at your feet as you walked.

The Master of Laws stayed quiet beside you as you continued. Perhaps he would not be as easy as you had thought. You turned another corner, looking at the man as something moved in the corner of your eye.

“Does your wife reside here in Kings Landing with you, My Lord?”

“My late Lady Wife passed away in childbirth two moons ago.”

Four wives then.

You slowed your step, frown pulling your lips downwards. A shiver rolled down your back and your hairs stood on end.

“My condolences. Are you being looked after?”

Jasper smiled down at you softly, “Of course, Princess. King Aegon provides all that I need here.”

Ugh.

“I am gladdened to hear this.” You paused looking back down at your feet as he slowed his step, curious eyes looking over you.

“Do you not get... lonely?” You asked, looking up at him as you came to a complete stop.

The Lord of the Rain House stilled and looked down at you, hands adjusting the tomes and parchment in his hands. A silence stretched between the both of you as you looked at each other.

Why was he not saying anything?

More importantly, who was watching you?

It set you on edge.

“I only ask as my Lord Husband is away for so long, and I find myself anxious for his return.” You made a show of the sadness you supposedly felt, lifting a hand to come touch the man, before rethinking it and tucking back behind you to move forward.

“It does get lonely, at times.” Lord Wylde spoke quietly, “Though I have promising news of a potential betrothal to Lady Ellyn Baratheon.”

Here comes wife number five.

Shit.

“Oh, that is wonderful news then, My Lord. I must congratulate you. I would hate to know the you suffer the same affliction as I do.” You continued.

The prickling of your skin started again and you turned your head. You and Lord Wylde had walked beside the Godswood in the open courtyard coridoors, where not too far from you stood a man with his cane.

You were definitely being watched.

“This is where I must leave you,” You told him, “Until we meet again.” You smiled, turning and leaving Lord Wylde without hearing his farewell.

You crossed the courtyard not too far away, to where Lord Larys Strong, Master of Whispers, stood watching you with a knowing smile, leaning on his cane.

“Princess Y/n.” He greeted you, as you came to stand in front of him.

“Lord Larys. Do you ever grow tired of watching me from afar?”

The man hummed, “A fine day in King’s Landing.”

“No finer than the last. I would ask you to join me on my walk, but… I fear it may not be of interest to you.” You pointedly look down at his club foot.

Larys smiled, “It would be a pleasure to join you, Princess. My club foot would not restrict me from such an honour.”

You hummed.

Turning on your foot, you waited until he came to your side and began to slowly move out of the courtyard. You moved around the Keep, leading out to the garden.

Caution arose inside of you as you walked beside Lord Larys. You did not trust the man, nor did you like him. He was one of the many vipers in this nest, and had whispered in Alicent’s ears for years. For the most part, he had made himself scarce, barely acknowledging you, nor your presence for many years growing up, but now his sudden interest in you was a warning for you to keep a level head.

You would do well to not let your guard down around the man and not show him any weaknesses.

“Lord Larys, forgive me for my brazenness, but I must ask you.” You stopped walking and looked at him.

He did not look much like Ser Harwin. He was smaller, and weaker and ill-made. He stood crooked and thin, skin pale, and resembled a weasel more than a man. But his dark eyes and hair were the resemblance of his House.

“I am sure what you are about to ask is neither brazen, nor offensive, My Lady.”

You gave him a small smile.

“How does it feel...” You began looking down at the floor in mock innocence, as you begin to walk again through the garden, dirt path beneath your feet, and blooming flowers of all colours and shapes surrounding you.

You left him in limbo of the question a little while longer, before continuing, “...To the be the last of Strong blood? I was shocked when I had heard the news of what my Lord Husband had done in Harrenhal to your House, and I feel as though I must apologise to you for his actions.”

“My Lady, you know more than I, that I am not alone.” He looked at you pointedly.

Your brothers.

You clenched your jaw.

“Ah, yes. Alys Rivers.” You looked him up and down, “I suppose with her still surviving, you are not the last Strong after all.”

Larys lets out a small, knowing laugh, quiet for no-one else in the garden to hear, but loud enough for you.

You steered the both of you towards where you always sat. Where you and Helaena had watched sunsets and sunrises, looked at bugs and talked of your futures together.

Not at all what it was for now.

You sat at a small steel table, and held out a hand for him to take the one opposite you. He bowed his head and sat, leaning his long cane against the table. It was well crafted, with a gold top, a small bee in its centre. It reminded you of the cane that had been left in your chambers.

A servant boy came to join you once he saw the two of you seated.

“Please bring me and Lord Larys some tea and fruit. " You smiled at the boy, "Thank you.”

The young boy, no older than ten-and-five, bowed his head, and scuttled out of the garden towards the Keep. You held your hands together on the table.

“I will withdraw any pleasantries from this conversation henceforth. You know better than I,” You mocked his previous words, “That you are no ally to me, and I simply cannot stand the sight of you.” You smiled gracefully.

To any passing in the garden, it would look as though you were having a pleasant interaction.

“For years I had thought of how Ser Harwin and your late father had died so quickly on their return back to Harrenhal. I had slept on it as a child, you see. Ser Harwin was good to us,” You smiled and nodded your head to behind him, "He trained me in the yards just on the other side of this Keep. He was like a father to me.”

Larys watched as you spoke to him, relaxed in your chair. All falseness had left his face, and what was left in its wake was a viper. He certainly played the defenceless and meek man well.

“At first, I had my suspicions that Alicent had to be behind it, but it did not make sense for the man who could be put on trial for treason, to be put to death first. And so quietly too. "

You leant forward on the table as you looked at him, "Alicent loves a public spectacle, we saw that the day she tried to take my brothers eye. So I ruled her out. And then I thought some more.”

The servant boy came back with a large silver tray, pot of tea and teacups sitting atop, with a small plate of cut up fruit. You paused from your thoughts as the young boy placed the cups down in front of you, pouring them high and placing the fruit in its centre.

“Thank you. That will be all.” You thanked the boy, dismissing him, watching as he left.

Reaching across the table you picked up a small sugar container, mother of pearl spoon inside. You scooped a small spoonful of sugar out of the bowl and held it towards Larys.

“Sugar?” You asked.

The man nodded, and you let the small soft grains fall into his cup of tea, before placing the sugar back in front of you. Picking up your unsweetened tea, you brought it to your lips, the steam brushing against your mouth warmly.

You took a small and polite sip. It was steeped perfectly.

A soft bitter aftertaste, just as you preferred in times of stress like this. Larys picked up his spoon, stirring the sugar into his tea gently, before bringing it up to his lips to drink.

“It was not hard to figure out. Who would have something to gain from the death of the Lord Lyonel Strong, and his first born son, Ser Harwin?”

You placed your teacup back on the table, letting the china clink softly against one another. Larys mirrored your movements. He did not seem nervous at all by your accusation, nor comments.

“Of course, it always comes down to the second son. You had a title to gain, lands and wealth, and not only that, but I suspect something to hold over the Queen’s conscience. Am I wrong?” You asked, and Larys stayed silent, "I’m sure you made it seem as though you did it for her, yes?”

“Quite the accusation, Princess. What you accuse me of would be treason, and kinslaying.” Larys mused, picking up his cup to sip at again.

“Of course. Forgive me, ’tis merely just speculation and a child’s mind left to run through endless possibilities.” You shrugged, and reached forward to pull a grape from its bunch, popping the round fruit into your mouth, feeling your teeth slice through the juicy flesh.

“It was an unfortunate accident. They say that Harrenhal is cursed.” The Strong man began, “Not at all like what had happened to the poor Prince Daeron.”

You let your head lazily look down as you sighed, “An unfortunate accident,” You parroted, “A casualty of war. Thank the Seven that we now have a treaty, to prevent further losses such as that.”

You sipped your tea in tandem, a tense silence filling your area of the garden.

“And how are you faring? Have you settled back into the Keep?” He asked.

“With my Lord Husband so frequently gone, I find myself more settled than ever.” You smiled, “It is relaxing to know that I do not have two monsters, watching me at all hours. Though I do worry for his absence. What whispers will the courts concoct once they hear of his whoring?”

“Trouble in paradise in such a fresh marriage is concerning to hear. But I would not worry on any opinions of the Lords and Ladies at court. They would not care for a bastard born from another.”

“And what of this bastard, Lord Larys, Master of Whispers? I have heard whispers of my own. They say that she is a witch, and has put a spell on my husband. That is why she still lives. Is it true?”

“I seemingly recall you reminding me that I am neither your ally, nor you mine.”

“Mm. That’s true. You can’t blame me for trying. It is terribly dull, locked in this Keep. I am just desperate enough to sit and have tea with you, let alone look at you.” You smiled, and he smiled back.

“Is this why you peruse the Keep in search of somebody? Is your Lord Husband not satisfying your needs, warming your bed chambers?”

“Unfortunately for me, my bed chambers are warmed enough. Though they lack a certain, want. I am sure you would know all about this, having known about Aegon and his wondering cock. You know, it truly is a mystery at how it has not fallen off yet.”

“A mystery indeed, Princess.” He paused, drinking from his tea, watching you, thinking, and when he comes to a conclusion, he places the cup back down, reaching to refill it.

“But Alys Rivers is less of a mystery.” He began, “I have heard tales of her beauty. An older woman with hair as black as the night sky, and eyes of green that pierce any mans soul. Rumours are about that she is a witch, and she claims to be one. Though who knows if it is real or not. I have been told she wears a chain of Valyrian steel around her neck, with three emeralds dripping from it. A gift from a Targaryen Prince.” The man shrugged, “Depends on what you believe.”

He brings the cup to sip again, eyes watching you over the rim.

“Are you a man of Faith, Lord Strong?”

“Of course, My Lady.”

“And what do you believe?”

“I believe what I am told.”

“And what a good little dog you make for it.” You smiled viciously, pulling another grape from the table to pop into your waiting mouth. “For a Master of Whispers, you sure do miss a lot of things.”

“Like what, Princess?”

You laughed.

“If you truly are a Master of Whispers, I am sure you will find out in due time. Need I remind you that I am neither your friend, nor ally?”

“You need not. Though may I give a word advice?”

You sighed, cocking your head, “No. But I have a feeling that you are going to anyway.”

“If you are to look for a man to warm your chambers in the absence of your husband, it is best that you don’t do so, so brazenly.” He smiled brightly, “Though he has lost an eye, he is not blind and has his ears.”

“Of no doubt you will be whispering your poison into.”

Larys smiled a sickly smile, “Of no doubt. Who knows what the courts may begin to whisper. Of course, only if my hand is forced.”

“May I offer you a word of advice, Lord Larys?”

The mans hand touched the top of his cane, its engraved bee sitting pretty in the expanse of the tip. A smirk wound its way on his lips in confirmation, head tilting to tell you to speak.

“Don't fuck with me." You smiled, and enjoyed the way the man blinked in shock at your harsh words, “I have found that throughout my life, men with ambition are a great threat to the realm and to the people living within it. I doubt that any man,” You looked him up and down in disgust, “Or woman, would lay with you. And without the lust of flesh, you are free to lust after power. A dangerous man indeed.” You smiled falsely, leaning back in your chair, listening to the waves behind you before you continued.

“Dragon or no dragon, I have not forgotten your place in this war, nor what you had done to Ser Harwin. I will rip your throat out with my teeth if I must. But of course,” You stood from the table looking down at the man who’s brow had hardened, “Only if my hand is forced.”

You walked around the table to stand beside Lord Larys.

“Thank you for an… inspiring conversation, Lord Larys.” You smiled down at him, “I had almost forgotten of your presence in the Keep.”

You grinned at the man, letting your hand come to touch his shoulder in a friendly manner.

Lord Larys Strong, Master of Whispers, stared at his empty tea cup as you walked away, leaving him to his thoughts and your unprovoked threat.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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strawberryya · 9 months

Text

The art of seduction - part one

pairing: jeong yunho x reader

synopsis: Since she left you, it feels like your life has been turned upside down, and you're struggling to find your footing. He sees that, and he wants to help. Or maybe it's not as pure as that. Perhaps he's just looking for a new plaything — an artist to inspire, or someone to slowly destroy.

word count: 4.5k

genre/cw: angst, smut, suggestive, fantasy, thriller and/or romance, yandere themes, supernatural au, faery au, leanan sídhe!yunho, human!reader, they/them pronounces for reader, I tried my best to keep all descriptions gn as well - I welcome all feedback on this area ofc, grief and death depicted/mentioned, specific smut warnings will be listed in each part.

rating: 18+

a/n: this has been a big project for so many people this year, and I would like to thank all of the inspiring people in this collab for all the fantastic ideas that has been contributed to make all of these fics possible. it has been a journey writing this, but this fic is only the beginning of the even longer journey that yunho and our mc will be going on ;)

this is part one of my first fic for the wonderful collaboration thrill of the hunt, hosted by @cultofdionysusnet - check out the other exciting and thrilling stories on the official master list here!

the second part to this story will be found here once it's posted. if you wish to be tagged in the continuation you can dm me, send an ask, or comment on this post <3

network tagging: @svthub @cultofdionysusnet @k-labels @kvanity-main

“Oh, he’s the most wonderful man I’ve ever met, y/n! He’s perfect… I didn’t think anyone could be so perfect until he came into my life. He makes me feel like I’ll never need anything ever again… like he and I are enough forever. I need you to meet him someday soon! I wanna introduce you to him, I promise you’ll love him too!”

You never got the chance to meet him. The more you think about it, the more you regret not making more of an effort to do so. Your best friend Anna had been in love with someone, and you hadn’t even had the chance to meet the man she spoke so fondly of.

“I haven’t been feeling very good lately, y/n… I’ve been to the doctors and they say there’s nothing wrong. They said it’s all in my head, that I should go talk to someone… y/n, do you also think I’m making myself sick?”

She only got weaker after that.

And he had seemingly fallen off the face of the earth after she became bedridden.

She said he came to visit, but she wasn’t in her right mind in those final weeks. Nobody had signed in at the reception. Nobody had seen a beautiful man with dark brown hair that gleamed blood-red when the sun shone. During all that time when she was admitted into the psychological ward at the city’s second-largest hospital you and Anna’s mom were the only visitors.

They said she was mad…

You had wondered a lot about who he might’ve been during those times when she had talked about him as if she had just spoken to him, but nobody had seen anyone in her room. Had he been a fraction of her imagination the entire time? Or had her mind created a lie based on a man who had left her before her illness took over her mind and body?

When she passed he was the one piece of the puzzle that you couldn’t let go of. If you had tried harder to meet him, would her illness have been caught earlier? Could it have been found and treated before it took her life…?

You’ve been staying late at the studio lately, trying to get through your feelings about losing her through your art. The shadows in the room seem to close in on you at every chance they get, and you don’t fight them. Hugged by the darkness is somehow better than being left so completely alone.

The brush strokes soothe you like nothing else is able to. Fizzling seas crash along the shore, a looming tree stands barren and alone, and her face appears in the dark clouds.

The only things you know to be true are that: she is gone, you are in pain, and you can only paint this one single picture. The lonesome tree at the cliff, watching the storms and waves trying to pull the ground away from beneath the large oak tree. You paint it over and over again, day after day, and you haven’t even paid any mind to when other artists have come and gone through the studio. People painted right next to you, people posed on the podium in front of you, and you didn’t care about any of it. All that matters to you is that you have been left all alone.

Your best friend has died, and you can’t even do the one thing you have been able to do your entire life ー paint. You had pursued your passion fiercely, not budging even as your parents pleaded with you to be reasonable and try “having a career worth having”, and let painting stay as a hobby. It was how you had met Anna. She was a dancer, and she had gotten into the same art college as you. Back then you had both been carefree young adults, simply trying your best to survive on your own for the first time in your lives. Now, she has left you, with the bittersweet taste of the last conversations you had had with her on your tongue.

“He inspires me you know, I’m just a dancer anymore when he looks at me, I become the air itself.”

You had smiled and nodded at her nonsense, she seemed to be dreaming of it. Her limbs were too weak to be of use, but she had the same smile on her lips as when she performed. You had tried your best not to be mad at her for only speaking of this man even as she lay dying in a hospital, dreaming of her passion was at least better than dreaming of him. The tears had stung your eyes as you held her hand before leaving her to her rambling.

It has been a while since her funeral, and you have practically been living at the studio. Home doesn’t make you feel any better, so you sleep on the small pullout couch in the corner instead. It isn’t meant to be slept on and your back is sore from the many nights in a row you have spent on it. But the art studio is at least comforting you more than home. You have too many memories of Anna in your apartment. Here you can focus on your art. At least, that’s the idea. You have had no inspiration since her death. It’s strange, she hadn’t exactly been the reason you painted, but everything that happened still affected even that part of you.

You had begun questioning if you should give it all up, move home to your parents for a few months, and go back to your waitress job until you had processed all of this. But could you give up on your passion? After years of struggling to pass courses and hustling on the side of your studies just to make it all work? What would Anna say if she knew…?

You aren’t sure how it happened, it might've been a dream. It’s barely been three weeks since Anna’s funeral and you woke up with the clearest picture of a man you had never met in your mind.

He’s handsome, just like she had told you. He has gentle features, and dark, captivating eyes that catch hold of your mind and refuse to let go. You can’t seem to escape the image of the stranger you know in your bones is the same man Anna had known.

Sometime after the day you had first seen him in your mind, after hours in front of your easel and a blank canvas, you finally force yourself to pick up the brush. This couldn’t be the end of pursuing the only career you had ever wanted. You need to get over it and paint something, other than that stubborn tree and the punishing sea. His features burn your eyelids, and you see him as you blink and dream of him as you sleep. You can’t escape the visions, so you make him real, tangible. You create a portrait of the man in your head. Watching the finished portrait once you put down the brush.

You look at it until it gets dark again, staring into his eyes until you fall asleep on the couch in the corner.

You wake up with a headache. You groan quietly since you neither have the energy nor the will to get up and take something for the throbbing pain stemming from the sides of your head. Before you could even summon the will to get up despite this, you almost jumped off the couch in surprise. There is another person in the room. You’re still in the corner of the room, so the stranger might’ve missed that you were even there, you reason. It looks like a man from behind. His short dark hair lay in a rather messy way against the back of his head. He’s turned away from you, watching the painting you had fallen asleep staring at. He’s tall, his shoulders are broad. You panic, because what did this man want, and why was he here in the middle of the night?

“Who are you?” you ask breathlessly, jumping up from the couch, trying to see if he’s someone you know in the dim light. Could he be another artist here to paint at an odd hour? You don’t recognize him, but you aren’t the best at remembering people, so you’re not sure if you should be screaming or apologizing for your hostile greeting.

The man didn’t even flinch at the sound of your voice. He didn’t seem like a threat, but then again, something about him creeped you out. You ignore the fact that he also intrigued you, and try to catch his attention again. “Hey, I asked you a question.” In response, he simply raises a hand as if to shush you.

This man hadn’t just broken into the studio late at night – he was also incredibly rude. The air around him is so still, so calm that it’s giving you chills. You want to see his face. If he was going to murder you, you want to have looked the fucker in the eye so you can, at least, curse his existence. You take a step forward, grabbing a long paintbrush from the drying rack. Maybe you can get his eye if you’re fast enough.

“So aggressive, little dove,” the man finally says. His voice is smooth and deep. It’s an attractive voice, at least your murderer has a nice voice, not that that makes this situation salvageable. You’re still prepared to stab him with the wooden brush in your hand.

“Wouldn’t you be aggressive if you woke up to a stranger in your bedroom as well?”

You had tried putting on a brave face, hoping that he wouldn’t notice how scared you were. He seemed to see through this facade easily though, chuckling at your attempt instead of turning around to face you. “Not your bedroom. I’ve been to your bedroom and this isn’t it. Also, not really a stranger, am I?”

Your breath won’t calm down, and your heart is beating mercilessly in your chest. This man had been in your apartment? And you know him? What the hell is he talking about? “Are you some kind of stalker you fucking creep?” you wheeze out, taking a step away from him.

You desperately wish for this to be some kind of nightmare.

When he turns around you’re sure it is because there’s no way the man you see in front of you isn’t just a fiction of your imagination. Dark hair, streaks of red when the light from the window hits it. Perfect lips, and captivating eyes. It’s him. The man in your painting, alive right in front of you. Your grip on the brush tightens, the bristles folding backward from the pressure of your palm. The world began to spin, he wasn’t real, he couldn’t be real. You see the edges of your vision blur and his smile widens at the visible panic you were displaying.

He was right, he isn’t a stranger.

“I think you might’ve heard about me, little dove. She used to talk about you ー the talented artist she had met in college.”

It couldn’t be, you hear the blood rushing in your ears like thunder. “Who?”

He smiled innocently, “Don’t you remember your friend? Anna, I think her name was.”

No. It couldn’t be true. The brush fell from your hand as you fell to the ground. Your already sleep-deprived mind couldn’t handle the thought that maybe the man Anna had spoken about was real, and right in front of you. Knocking yourself unconscious was the only thing your body could do to stop your heart from giving out.

Have you gone mad as well? Maybe this was your way of grieving? Should you go to the hospital?

The questions spun in your mind. He was gone when you woke up. But the long brush in your hand and the bruises on your knees and shoulder felt like substantial proof that you had not lost your mind. He had been here, you know it, but who would believe you if you told them? Who would even care?

You decide to let it go, instead, you force yourself to go back to your apartment. A change of clothes was needed and you know that the lady down the hallway will be worried after not having seen you for days yet again. She had been at Anna’s funeral, wondering how and why your roommate had passed so quickly at such a young age. You hadn’t known what to answer. You still didn’t have your own answers as to “how” or “why”. At least, none that you could share…

You had managed to shower and get into some clothes when your neighbor knocked on the door.

“Hi, Auntie,” you greet her as she had insisted you do ever since you and Anna had first moved in. She’s older than any of your real aunts, but remarking on that had felt incredibly inappropriate, so you had both simply accepted your fate and begun calling her “Auntie”.

"Darling!" How are you? I haven't seen you here in days! I was beginning to worry. You know, this was just how it was with Anna, I didn’t see her for days and then she would show up saying she had been busy practicing and dating and whatnot!”

You don’t respond, forcing a smile. She meant well, but when she insisted on bringing you some food you wanted to refuse her. She didn’t mind your protests, “Oh, dear child, you don’t even know how sunken your face looks. You need some of my home-cooked food to get your spirits back up!”

In the end, your refrigerator was filled with casseroles and little boxes of different dishes, and a bitter feeling, knowing you wouldn’t be here to eat it. You left your apartment as swiftly as you had arrived, not wanting to stick around long enough to see the traces of a life lived – a life you didn’t feel belonged to you anymore. You brought what you could carry in your bag back to the studio.

You fall asleep again, after hours of trying to create something, only creating more pain in your back from sitting on the wooden stool all afternoon instead. It’s not like you hadn’t tried your best to think about anything else besides him, you had actually tried your very best! But in the end, your mind kept wandering back to the dip of his lips, and the grin on his face as you fainted. You painted the outline of his lips, over and over again.

You hated him.

Would he come back?

He had mocked you with his words.

Why had you felt such a rush when he spoke?

You never wanted to see his perfect face ever again.

Why couldn’t you stop wishing to see him just one more time?

You woke from a cool hand on your hair. Slowly and gently he patted your head until you opened your eyes. It was still dark out, and he was back. Leaning over your sleeping body, a large hand caressing the side of your head. You scream, and he smirks. He shushes you, and you push him away angrily.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” you shout.

“You wanted to see me again, I thought it best to wake you so your wishes could be fulfilled.” His voice coursed through you, giving you goosebumps again. “Don’t be angry with me, little dove.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“Don’t lie. It’s not polite,” he retorts as soon as the words leave your mouth.

“I don’t care, I hate you. Leave me alone!” You bark out the words, tears stinging your eyes. You don’t know why you’re reacting so strongly to him.

His tongue darts out to lick at his lips in annoyance. “Little dove,” he chirps menacingly, “Lie one more time and I won’t help you anymore.”

He terrifies you. He’s beautiful, but nothing about him feels true. He’s like those beautiful flowers forever trapped inside glass orbs. You wanted to protect the frozen beauty from getting the slightest scratch and smash it to pieces, all at once.

“Help me…?”

The gentle smile on his lips came back when you revealed that he had managed to pique your interest. “Mm, I help people. Artists, especially… it’s an interest of mine, the arts.” He winked at you, which caught you off guard.

“And you came here to help me?”

He nodded, but you weren’t convinced.

“Why? I didn’t ask for any help from you.”

He looked around the room, gaze wandering over the canvasses you had painted in the last couple of weeks, all depicting the shore and the dead tree. All except two. The portrait of him, and the sketches of his lips.

“You did that?” You ask incredulously. His gaze snaps back to you sharply.

“Of course. Didn’t it feel different? It felt like you had been inspired by something again, did it not?” His voice is honey in your ears, but the sticky feeling is making you want to flee for your life. You don’t.

“Want me to prove it?”

You frown, “What do you mean prove it? Are you going to inspire me to paint something on the spot in the middle of the night?”

“Tell me you want it and I’ll make sure you feel inspired for the rest of your miserable human life, little dove.”

His wording is so unnatural, you think for just a moment. You don’t trust him one bit, but perhaps this is the way to convince yourself that he is indeed just some creep that you need to get away from. You take a deep breath before answering, “I’ll agree if you tell me your name.”

The man stepped back, you had made him flinch. You don’t know why you made that exact demand. Maybe you had just really wanted to call him something other than “the one Anna spoke of” in your mind. It hurt each time you remembered her name.

“A name can be more powerful than you think, little dove,” his tone warned you of something. He seems on edge for the first time since you met him.

You don’t budge, his reaction only makes you more sure that you need to follow your gut. “Tell me, and you can help me.”

He hesitated before seemingly giving in to some innate need that you didn’t understand yet. “Yunho. That’s one of my names… Use it with care, little dove.”

You turned his name around in your mind, tasting the sweet taste on your tongue as you said it out loud. “Yunho… Sure, help me find inspiration to paint again.”

The same excited and menacing grin he had worn the last time you spoke now grace his lips again, and you feel you have committed a horrible mistake.

You look around the room, the sun is rising and casting long shadows from the easels placed around the podium. How has the entire night already passed you by? You have no memory of sleeping. You look at your hands, they are covered in paint. Why had you been so messy? You couldn’t remember right away. You know that you have painted. Yunho had kissed your hand, you can still remember the heat of his breath on your skin. Then you had picked up your brush. You hadn’t been frightened by the fact that you weren’t in control of your actions. After the weeks of forcing yourself to do the most basic human functions to stay alive, having something else move your hand in your stead was somehow freeing.

When you look at the canvas your breath stops. It’s him, you have painted him again. He’s not completely like himself, however, he is just as captivating in the picture as he is in reality. You had managed to capture his beautiful features, from the way his cupid’s bow dips graciously on his lips, to the way his hair gleams blood red when light shines through it. But behind him is something new, something you have never seen belonging to a human before. Wings, almost translucent wings, appearing on the canvas as a shimmer of light blue and white, adorned with shimmering ruby gemstones. He looked magnificent.

“Pretty,” you hear his voice whisper on your neck before you feel his soft lips press against your skin. You shiver, it feels good but you’re still in shock, watching the man who’s behind you on the canvas in front of you.

“How is this possible?” you mumble.

“You were inspired,” he responds calmly, brushing your hair away from your face from behind. “Did you enjoy it?”

You have a feeling that the answer to that is yes, but you also know you shouldn’t reveal that. “I don’t remember.”

“I think you did… I know you did.”

The way he seems to know everything, even the things you don’t, scares you a bit. But you might be addicted to the feeling of his touch, you’re addicted to what he can do to you, addicted to what he makes you feel deep inside. He has given you your passion back, he has helped you paint again, and you had enjoyed it this time. This shouldn’t be possible. Why does this man have so much power over you that he could help you paint as you had used to, for the first time since Anna’s passing?

There’s no way he’s human, no human looked like he did. In the morning light, he was even more dashing, even more unreal. You want to smash his perfect exterior to pieces and see the flower inside rot as the air hits its delicate petals.

“Go away. I don’t want this,” you choke out, pushing down the sobs that threaten to escape your throat. He kisses your neck again, but you don’t move. “I think I’ll die if I don’t end this Yunho. Please, just leave me alone.”

“It’s possible, but maybe you’ll be the one who makes it out alive.” His honey voice rang in your ears as the day began and his touch against your back disappeared. You cried yourself to sleep. You knew everything was wrong, Yunho was wrong. But there was nothing you could do about it anymore.

Two days passed without so much as a glimpse of Yunho. The hours of the night when he didn’t come to see you had almost been enough to convince you that you had truly gone mad. But then, suddenly, there he was, as dashing as ever. Pretty eyes watching you stare at an empty easel.

A chilling chuckle escaped him, nothing more. He stands and gazes upon your hopeless state for a while in silence. You will never get rid of him, you realize. You’re not upset about it. You can’t be upset. Nothing feels real anymore.

Yunho circles you, a predator watching his prey. You don’t flinch under his gaze this time. When he leans his lean body against the stool next to yours you feel disgusted. You weren’t upset that he would never leave you alone, but you deserved to know why, at least.

“What do you want from me?”

“Want?” He sounds almost offended.

“You’re not here just because it’s fun to sit around and watch me paint all day.”

He didn’t give you an answer, he just smiled at you with that perfectly enchanting smile of his. He’s dangerous, his beauty is dangerous. He leans forward on the stool, his face now scarily close to yours. Will he kiss you…? You can feel Yunho’s breath, hot against your lips, his gaze burning as he stares into your eyes and flickers down to your mouth. Do you want him to kiss you…?

What do you want from him?

You almost forget that he hasn’t given you an answer when he bends forward, his lips inches away from yours. This time you do flinch. Can he read your mind too? No, your eyes stare right back into his, a flash of maroon tints his irises an unnatural color before it disappears just as fast as it showed up.

His thumb drags across the side of your cheek, a small smirk plays on Yunho’s deceptive lips. “I’ll make you a promise,” he whispers, “I promise to make sure you’re motivated to do what you love the most, for the rest of your life.”

His breath burns hot against your wet lips. You want to kiss him. “A promise…?” you exhale, mind not quite able to focus on his words, but they sound good to you right now. You swallow, eyes flickering to his perfectly shaped cupid bow, his rosy lips, and the tongue that teases behind his plump lips. “What… what would I have to do…?”

“A clever dove, I knew you would ask the right questions.”

You didn’t truly understand though, too distracted by Yunho’s eyes mirroring your flickering gaze, teasingly watching the way your hands fiddled with the brush in your hand.

“All you have to do in return is say that you agree, and I will fulfill all of your wishes.” His soothing hand moves around to the nape of your neck, his grip gentle but secure.

Will he fulfill them all?

Does it even matter? Almost anything would be good enough to accept right now, at least you can’t think of something that would be worse than walking through life as the zombie you had been since… Since Anna’s death. If you accept his proposal, will you find out what happened to her?

“I agree.”

Your stomach flips when plush lips are pressed against yours. It seems he had already begun living up to his word. At least he wasn’t playing a trick on you when it came to that part. His hands travel over your body, he knows exactly how to touch you the way you like it. Has he been watching you for a long time? Or is it something magical, like those shimmery wings you had imagined he had? You’re not sure, but knowing could wait until later. Right now you have a couple of needs. Needs that Yunho had promised to fulfill. His leg firmly presses open your legs, strong muscle relieving some of the intense pressure that had built up in your lower abdomen since the thought of having him in this way had sprouted in your mind. You need more. You close your eyes even tighter as you let the brush fall from your grip. Hands moving across Yunho’s perfect form without hesitation.

The sound of the brush hitting the floor didn’t reach your ears. You were already lost to the world of humans.

“Do you believe in fairies? I do. I think there are things we don’t know in this world. Magical things. If I could go there I would, I think it’s a beautiful place, nothing like Earth. I’d want to dance for them…”

Reblogging and commenting is highly appreciated!! Hearing what you thought is what makes writing and being here overall so much fun! Ty and ily 💕

#kwritersworldnet #thrill of the hunt #yunho smut #ateez imagines #ateez smut #yunho angst #ateez x reader #atz #yunho #jeong yunho #yunho x reader #ateez yunho

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vriskabot · 7 months

Note

do you have any davris headcanons?

i saw this ask the instant it came in and i could not believe my EYES. trust when i tell you ive been typing FURIOUSLY in the meantime okay. okay headcanons. -dave has always been a little genderweird and vriska putting makeup on him when she was bored one night unlocked his third eye and now he cant stop putting red shit all over his eyelids -vriska has also always been genderweird and you can see where im going with this. -she steals his clothes ALL the time -he pretends to hate it when she gets her disgusting $5 perfume stink all over said clothes but you know he loves that shit (and she knows it too) -flaming bisexuals -once theyve been together for a while they are THE most "i am going to have the longest silent conversation with someone across the room you have ever seen in your life" -they both think they can read each other like a book but in truth its only about 60-70% accurate -the inaccuracies are always funny as fuck though and 9 times out of 10 its some entirely off the wall MADNESS due to their upbringings they think is entirely normal. the conversations that directly follow these revelations are legendary amongst the extended crew and every single one thats happened in a public memo has been screenshotted by basically everyone they know -speaking of which. i dont think they dm for basically anything ever. they either have conversations right in the GC (sometimes in the middle of other conversations, which karkat fucking HATES, especially when they flirt with each other) or they speak in person/over the phone. no in between -they flirt with each other all the time and its disgusting but its incomprehensible to literally everyone else. vriska tells dave she found some gnarly roadkill and sends coordinates and dave is like "babe stop not in front of everybody" -she used to send pictures too but that got shut down real quick and now thats really all she dms him for -i dont think vriska likes it for the same reasons dave does but he did absolutely get her into the weird and wacky world of vulture culture. dave likes the wet specimens the most but vriskas a fan of bones and taxidermy -speaking of which. this is more vriska/troll-centric but i love the idea of vriska being able to eat bones. dave gets the same schoolboy "oh my god this is so cool" kick out of it every single time -im well aware that music is a time thing but i genuinely cannot comprehend a world wherein vriska is not a music girlie. this definitely did a lot of the heavy lifting in The Early Days because when youre emotionally constipated sometimes you gotta let a song do the talking FOR you -vriska 100% introduced dave to crunkcore and he got way more into it than she ever did. he listens to 3oh3 religiously -dave samples vriska on his tracks all the time because she CANNOT shut the fuck up. he also likes taking pictures of her but even after years together he still kinda keeps those to himself and gets flustered when she finds one -man i just really love the idea of them being fucking obsessed with each other. they rag on each other ALL the time because thats just how they feel the most comfortable being affectionate but at the end of the day they snuggle up all soft and quiet and just enjoy being with somebody who understands how hard it can be to even allow that to happen in the first place -they ARE super casually affectionate with each other though, even in group settings. i dont think theyd like grand pda like kissing or saying 'i love you' in public but personal space just doesnt really exist for them. they hang off each other and sling legs over laps all willy nilly -they also stim on each other. dave likes to play with her hair while hes talking and vriska likes to play with his hands/fingers when shes bored this post is so LONG i could keep going for days. please always ask me about davris, especially if youve got more specific questions!!!

#homestuck #dave strider #vriska serket #vriska #davris #davevris #we8comic #ironies in the fire #q+a with vel #Anonymous #SORRY I KINDA WENT OFF #please everyone talk to me about davris For Ever

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lastoneout · 7 months

Text

New Pinned/Intro Post!

Hi, I'm Loo(or Alex), I'm a disabled queer artist and writer as well as a furry vtuber who streams four days a week on twitch(mostly Minecraft but also Soulsborne games and a variety of other stuff).

You may know me from The Tuna Post, in which several thousand of you came together to "force" me to buy damn near 30 American Dollars worth of imported fancy canned tuna to eat and review live on stream. If you're here for it, said live review can be found on twitch and on my youtube channel. TL;DR: 10/10 would recommend.

I currently can't work, so if you like what I've got going on here and want to help me out, I take donations over on my ko-fi <3 Aside from that, follows on twitch help a lot, even if you never end up watching!

(Also, I sell my twitch emotes as stickers on redbubble!)

I don't have a proper BYF, but as a heads up I'm heavily introverted and have ADHD, and between those and my disabilities eating up my energy I often take a while to respond to messages/tags/reblogs/DMs and sometimes forget entirely. This isn't anything against you, and it's something I'm working on, but just something to keep in mind if you plan on interacting with me a lot.

FAQ:

Do you take commissions?

Not at the moment, but hopefully in the future!

What do you use for art?

Wacom Intuos tablet + Clip Studio Paint on the PC, though these days I mostly use CSP on a Samsung Galaxy Tab s6 since I can use it in bed on my low spoons days.

What do you want to go to school for?

Digital Art and American Sign Language!

You talk about being sick all the time/having health problems, what's wrong with you?

Too many things to list <3 but the most notable ones are chronic migraines, hEDS, and ADHD.

Queer?

I'm ace, bisexual, bigender, and butch. I'm also polyam but currently in a very happy monogamous relationship and don't have plans to change that. My pronouns are she/they, and while I would prefer to not have people use he/him with me you are highly encouraged to use masculine forms of address(sir, guy, dude, king, man, my guy, grandpa, dad, etc.) whenever appropriate. My assigned sex/gender at birth is none of your business.

Who's Yotsuba?

Yotsuba is an adorable little gremlin and the main character of my favorite manga, Yotsuba &!, and you should go read it right now seriously it's amazing go read it go read it GO READ IT-

What's "ask to tag"?

The tumblr equivalent of "author chose not to use archive warnings", I put it on anything that seems like it could use a trigger warning but where no one has specifically asked me to tag for that trigger yet. Things I currently (try to) tag for: flashing lights/eyestrain, insects, suicide, fatphobia/diet culture/disordered eating, my hero academia, gore/body horror, current events, us politics, politics, covid, cats, and anything nsfw goes under nsft.

I can't promise to be 100% consistent with these tho, between the ADHD and the migraines I am very forgetful, so slip ups are bound to happen.

Loo? Like the bathroom??

LOO is short for LastOneOut, I'm american and forgot people call it that, you can write it as Lou or just call me Alex if it makes you feel better.

LookingForLoo?? Like looking for the bathroom??

On websites where LastOneOut is taken I'm LookingForLoo because I'm literally looking for LOO, LastOneOut. I thought it was clever T_T

Sideblogs?

I have a nsfw alt @looafterdark (18+ only I swear to god I keep a loaded gun pointed at the follow list) and a writing inspo blog @last-scrapbook. I also once ran a couple of character ask blogs, though I don't plan on starting them up again, and I was the mod behind @pokeprofshowdown.

Who's Eugene/Ophelia/Sasha?

My ocs from an original story I'm working on. I get brainrot and post about them a lot. You are ALWAYS allowed to ask me about them!

What's your fursona/can I make art of you?

I'm a dog, kinda like a papillion but not really, and yes you may. My ref sheet is here.

Can I repost your funny text posts to twitter/insta/reddit?

Sure, all I ask is that you include the entire post and leave my username visible. You can also tag me if you want, I'm lookingforloo on twitter, insta, and reddit <3

Can I repost your art/writing?

Absolutely not.

Can I plug your art or writing into an AI program?

Absolutely not under any fucking circumstances.

Can I use your art in an amv/fandom board/as a cover for my playlist or fic/ect.?

Depends, DM me first.

Can I write fic/make fanart based on your fics/art/HCs/AUs?

Absolutely <3

Can I write fic/make fanart based on your OCs?

Art yes, fics no.

What's your stance on the discourse?

There is no amount of posting online about contentious topics that could ever match the sheer power of simply going out into your community and finding a project that helps other people that you can dedicate your time and energy to. Also wear a mask, vote(if you can), and listen to marginalized people when they speak about their experiences.

How old are you?

#pinned post

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rocknrollbabe14 · 1 year

Text

Stuck In The Middle (Joe x Reader) (Part One)

Rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warnings: My spin on the enemies-to-lovers trope, cursing, drinking, vomiting, Joe being a little bit arrogant and assholish at times, hate sex (p in v sex, no protection), coercion to have sex (but secretly reader wants it too!), if I forgot anything, let know!!

**Special thanks to @josephs-quinns for making my header!! ❤️**

It seemed like yesterday that your best friend, Melanie had moved to the UK—London specifically for her job. It was an offer she couldn’t refuse. It hurt like hell to see your best friend go, but you tried to understand. Every now and then, you’d go to visit her in London and stay at her “flat” as she called it—she said that’s what they referred to an apartment as. It made you laugh, picking up bits and pieces of their lingo the longer Melanie lived over there. The time difference was one of the biggest hurdles you both had to overcome.

You were still awake while she was asleep and vice-versa. In the beginning, it was exhausting to try and wrap your head around. But as time went on, it got a little easier. You all made time to talk to one another, working around each other’s schedules. It’s like you all never skipped a beat—you always picked up right where you had left off. Both of your lives continued to change even if you all lived on two completely separate continents.

Melanie had found someone—a British man. All you really knew was his name was Wesley and he was a really nice guy. You had met him a few times along with his annoying friend, Joseph. Wesley was always very nice and inviting, making sure to make you feel welcome and included. Sometimes, you felt like the third wheel. It was like watching a sappy Hallmark movie—hearing them laugh and giggle, going as far as to even rub noses together. It was so cute that it was nauseating.

You’d order drinks, downing them quickly to try and get drunk and forget the entire thing. They told you how lonely you looked as if you needed reminding. You scoffed lightly laughing and they smiled at one another before telling you they had a solution. Their solution? Inviting Wesley’s friend Joseph along. You were told you’d love him and you both would hit it off, no problem. The idea was nice at first, but your delusional mind believed that may really work out.

But your delusion was quickly shot down. The first time time you met Joseph, he came off as a pompous asshole who obviously thought a lot of himself. Even telling Wesley about all the girls who were in his dms. Not a great way to start a conversation. He appeared to be glued to his cellphone, barely making any conversation with you when you asked him questions specifically about his acting career and how it had taken off. He seemed bored as you tried to make a small conversation.

He would look off, seeming to eye the girls in the bars or restaurants where you all ended up with Wesley and Melanie. It was hard to talk to someone who seemed like they cared less about you or getting to know you. Wesley would apologize for his behavior if he went to order a drink or went off to the bathroom, saying he had just been overwhelmed since becoming famous. You’d just nod with a small smile, pretending like you believed him.

You’d count the hours or minutes until the night would end, returning to Melanie’s apartment. When asking you how you liked Joe, you lied. You hated to lie to your best friend, but she and Wesley acted like you all would just have some fairytale romance and that wasn’t going to be the case. Melanie smiled at your response, telling you she felt like you and Joe hit it off. Was she blind? Where the hell had she been? Or was she too busy in her little love-drunk bubble to realize?

Either way, you were not excited to see him again and honestly dreaded it. You’d seen him a few times after this but did your best to just tolerate him for Melanie.

“So……”, Melanie began, the smile evident in her voice while on the phone.

“So what?”, you smirked back, lying down on your bed.

“Um, you wanna come to London and see me? Wes and I have some really exciting news.”

You sat back up abruptly, your heart dropping down into your stomach. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

You heard Melanie laugh on the other end of the phone. “No—no. But it’s great news and I’d love to tell you and show you in person.”

“Um—okay.”, you began. “When do you want me to fly in?”

“Monday?”

You blew air, thinking about taking more PTO off from work, but you wanted to see Melanie.

“Yeah—okay. Um, question?”

Melanie giggled. “Sure, what is it?”

“Joe’s not gonna be there, is he?”

There was genuine concern in your voice, evident you wanted to avoid him at all costs if you could. He was not your favorite person and that was clear.

“At some point—but Wes and I can pick you up from the airport—just us. I don’t get what you have against Joe. He’s really nice once you get to know him.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Was she talking about the same Joe that you were? Because you didn’t think so.

A deep exhale escaped your lips as you rubbed your furrowed brows. “He thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”

Melanie laughed. “Well, he was GQ’s man of the year.”

“Melanie.”, you deadpanned before groaning.

She laughed. “Well, just saying. You know, he still isn’t seriously dating anyone.”

“And I care why?”

There was slight venom in your voice as you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. To be honest, you couldn't care less who Joe was dating and what kind of girls he was dating. You knew you didn’t match his type. He had been seen with a couple of women, the model kind. You didn’t fit that mold. And you were okay with that.

“Maybe—just maybe you all will hit it off.”

“Doubt it.”

“You never know.”, Melanie sing-songed.

“Promise me it’ll be just you and Wes at the airport, please?”

“It will be, Y/Nickname. I promise, okay?”

Her answer satisfied you, and you hung up. Laying in bed, all you could think about was being forced to see Joe. It was going to be daunting, but whatever Melanie’s news was, you wanted to know and had to be there for her. She was your best friend, after all. You called your supervisor asking for time off and thankfully she didn’t seem to have an issue with it. You apologized for it being such short notice.

The weekend passed and all you felt like you accomplished was packing clothes. Your flight left early at five thirty tomorrow morning and the flight was a long one to London. Laying in bed, you decided to scroll on your phone. Instantly, his face popped up. You groaned, throwing your phone off to the side. Could you not have one last night of peace? Everywhere you looked, Joe seemed to pop up. You knew he was famous and all, but it was becoming really annoying.

Your phone dinged, causing you to pick it up again.

-Can’t wait to see you!! X

Melanie.

-Same here! Text you when I board the plane. :)

Setting your alarm, you closed your eyes and attempted to go to sleep. It felt like you barely closed your eyes when they shot open, hearing the alarm go off. You groaned, reaching for your phone on charge and unplugging it before shutting off your alarm. You blew air as you sat up and grabbed your robe, heading off to the bathroom to start getting ready. It was four in the morning. You fixed your hair quickly, put on some makeup, and got dressed in record time.

Grabbing your suitcase, you made your way downstairs and loaded it in your car. You closed your trunk, releasing a sigh. Nothing to do now but prepare yourself. Once you arrived at the airport, you texted Melanie that you were getting ready to board the plane. Here went nothing. What craziness would find you on this trip? Would you finally go off on Joe? Would you be able to hold your tongue? It was all a mystery. It all depended on what kind of news Melanie and Wes had to share.

The flight was long and exhausting. Your hips hurt from sitting in the seat for so long. When it was announced that you all were finally going to land, you couldn’t have been happier. The process still seemed to take forever as you waited for your luggage in baggage claim. Yours finally showed up, grabbing it and finally feeling excited to go see Melanie and Wesley. Your eyes panned the crowd of people, finally noticing Melanie who was waving widely with a smile on her face. Wesley was waving lightly beside her as you rushed over to them both.

“Oh my God, I’m so happy to see you.”, you smiled as you and Melanie embraced one another.

“Same here. Look, Y/N, there’s something—”

“Wesley, you look so good.”

He chuckled as you all shared a hug.

“Welcome to London.”, Wesley laughed as he shared a nervous look with Melanie.

“Y/N.”, Melanie persisted.

“Yeah?”, you smiled easily but your heart dropped into your stomach as he came into view.

“Is she here yet? She’s taking forever.”, Joe didn’t look up from his phone, making his way back over to the group.

Your smile instantly turned into a frown as you crossed your arms, debating a smart-aleck response.

“You know I don’t control the airline.”, you rolled your eyes, finally getting his attention.

“Joe came with us.”, Melanie smiled through gritted teeth.

“I see that.”, you narrowed your eyes.

They promised you that Joe wouldn’t come with them and now, here he was. You felt overly annoyed and frustrated, wishing you could have five minutes to ask her what the hell she had done by bringing him with them.

“I thought just you and Wesley were coming.”, you said, a hint of annoyance in your voice.

“Well, there is something we’d like to tell you and Joe. You’re our best friends.”, Melanie smiled, her eyes beaming.

You mustered a fake smile before Wesley offered to grab your bags. Joe stayed on his phone, never looking up as you all continued through the airport. The car was parked out front, and Melanie got in the front passenger seat, leaving you and Joe in the back seat. From your understanding, ever since Joe’s acting career went off, he had been hard to relate to and thought he was better than everyone. He thought he could pull any woman he wanted to— the thought alone caused you to roll your eyes.

“How was your flight?”, Wesley asked, closing the door.

“Long.”

Joe chuckled from beside you causing you to instantly glare at him. Who did he think he was?

“What’s so funny, Joe?”, you crossed your arms.

“Your flight was long, that’s a bit of an understatement.”

You rolled your eyes. He was so insufferable. What right did he have to push your buttons like this? You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms defensively. Even his presence annoyed you. Everything about him—from the way he fixed his hair to the shoes he wore on his feet annoyed you.

“How does dinner sound?”, Melanie smiled, trying to break up the animosity.

“Fine.”, you and Joe answered together.

Silence took over the car ride as Wesley continued to drive. You knew you hadn’t been here long, but you already wanted to go back home. Especially if Joe was going to be part of your visit. Wesley and Melanie began talking amongst themselves, leaving you and Joe silent in the back. The car ride to the restaurant was agonizing, punishment enough already. You could only imagine how horrible dinner was going to be. What a disaster it would be. You’d have to drink. No, not just drink—get drunk to get through this night.

Then maybe after, this trip wouldn’t be so bad. You could only hope. That was all you could manage to hold onto right now. Wesley finally parked, pulling you all up to a fancy restaurant in Soho. Nothing like you usually had in the States. You all carefully got out, Wesley opening the door for Melanie before handing his keys to the valet, ushering you all to follow him inside.

Inside, quiet jazz music played as the waiter asked how many you had. Wesley told them he had reservations for a party of four. The waiter quickly grabbed menus and told you all to follow him. Weaving in and out of the crowd, you finally found yourselves at a table. Melanie sat on the other side of Wesley, unfortunately leaving Joe and you sitting together. . You both ended up beside each other, you trying your best not to look at him or make accidental eye contact.

You eyed the menu, trying to decide what you wanted. Wesley asked if you had any questions but you told him you decided on steak tartare, also ordering some wine to get started on your way to forgetting this night. After you all ordered, the waiter took the menus. Your drinks were served and you got a funny feeling while Melanie and Wesley were smiling at one another.

“So….”, Melanie began as she grabbed Wesley’s hand.

“So….”, you repeated.

You grabbed your wine glass, bringing it up to your lips.

“Um, Wes and I have some news…..”

This caught Joe’s attention, causing him to look at Wesley with a confused look. Your mind instantly went to the thought that she was pregnant by him.

“We’re engaged!”, they said together as Melanie flashed her ring, causing you to almost spit out your sip of wine.

You heard Joe take a deep breath as you grabbed a napkin to dab your lips.

“Congratulations.”, you finally choked out before coughing easily.

Deep down inside, this felt a little sudden.

“Yes, congratulations.”, Joe agreed, clearing his throat.

“And…..”, Melanie smiled as she looked back at Wesley, he nodded encouraging her to continue. “We want you and Joe to be our maid of honor and best man.”

She was smiling so wide, she was showing all her teeth. She laughed easily, giddy as ever. You were stunned by her even suggesting that you could be a maid of honor with Joe—being the best man. What was she thinking?

“You’re our best mates.”, Wesley smiled before he and Melanie shared a kiss.

You debated for a moment if you should agree to this—you knew what the maid of honor and best man did. Most of the wedding stuff was up to you all. Like bachelorette and bachelor parties, organizing a rehearsal dinner—you’d have to be in constant contact with one another. Did you really want that? But you didn’t want to let Wesley and Melanie down either.

“Um, sure—I’d love to.”, you spoke up finally.

“Yes, of course, I will.”, Joe agreed.

You met each other’s eyes, almost as if you all were thinking the same thing.

“Brill! Can’t wait.”, Wesley smiled.

“So when is the big day?”, Joe asked, sipping his wine before tearing into his oysters.

“The 15th of August.”

Joe coughed abruptly. “That's like—two months away.”

Melanie nodded. “We can’t wait any longer.”

“So I need to stay two months?”

“Actually, we’re planning to have the wedding in Italy.”, Melanie smiled.

“Yes, we’re planning to leave next Monday for Italy—but don’t worry—you and Joe are coming too, we hope.”, Wesley looked into Melanie’s eyes.

You and Joe exchanged looks for once, seeming to be thinking the same thing. Making a mental note, you knew you’d have to ask for an extension on your time off.

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”, Joe smiled easily before bringing the wine back up to his lips, making a small face as if it was bitter.

But it wasn’t the wine that was bitter. It was the thought of you all having to be in the same place together for two months. What were Wesley and Melanie thinking? They knew you both clearly didn’t get along well. And now you all were going to have to work together to plan a wedding for your best friends. This was clearly going to be the hardest thing you ever had to do.

“We’re so glad. And we got tickets to see the Arctic Monkeys tomorrow night at the music festival, try to relax and clear the air before things really start up.”, Wesley smirked to Melanie.

“Fun.”, you smiled easily.

“Cheers to that.”, Joe raised his wine glass.

You all made a small toast before you and Joe began downing wine as fast as the waiter could refill your glasses. The rest of the dinner ended up being a blur. You didn’t remember getting in the cab or Melanie and Wes helping to carry you inside Melanie’s apartment and getting you in the bed in her spare bedroom she had prepared just for you to come stay.

“How much did she drink?”, Wesley asked, your brain barely registering his voice inside a haze.

“I don’t know, several glasses. How’s Joe?”, Melanie asked.

So that idiot got drunk too. That made you feel a little better in your drunken state.

“Drunk off his ass.”

“Do you think you’ll be okay getting him inside?”

Their voices were low, barely audible through the door.

“I think so. If I need reinforcement, I’ll call some of our other mates.”, Wesley laughed lightly.

“Okay. Call me when you get home, I love you.”

“I love you too, babe. I will.”

There was the soft sound of Wesley’s footsteps departing along with the apartment door shutting quietly. You heard Melanie sigh before opening your door to peep in on you.

“Are you okay Y/N?”

“Fine—sleepy.”, you responded. “Can you help me out of my clothes?”

You knew you weren’t being yourself. This reminded you of your college days when you and Melanie would hit the clubs, partying. But this felt even worse than those days did. Was it because you’re older now and your body couldn’t handle that stuff anymore? Melanie attempted to help you stand up, most of your weight leaning on her.

“Okay, let’s get these clothes off.”, Melanie said as she tugged at your shirt.

It went up and over your head as she tugged at your dress pants, helping slide them down your leg. She fought against the fear you’d fall over.

“Y/N, can you help me some?”

“I’m trying, Melanie.”, you groaned.

After several minutes of fighting and frustration, your clothes were off leaving you only in your bra and panties before Melanie wrestled to get you in bed, covering you up.

“Goodnight, Mel.”

“Goodnight, Y/Nickname.”, she sighed as she flipped out the lights and shut your door softly.

Your head was pounding as you flipped over in bed in an attempt to get comfortable. It didn’t take long before you drifted off to sleep. Unsure of how many hours passed, you were awakened by that familiar sick feeling in the pit of your stomach. You shot up out of bed, throwing the door to the guest bedroom open and desperately looking down the hallway for the bathroom. Thankfully, you found it before throwing yourself over the toilet, emptying the contents of your stomach.

Silently, you prayed your best friend wouldn’t find you in this state. Hanging your head over the commode, you tried to wrap your head around what happened last night. All you remembered was going to dinner, Wesley and Melanie announcing their engagement and wedding, and you having to be in contact with Joe for at least two more months in Italy before this wedding. Apparently, all that information had been too much and that’s why you felt like wine was the appropriate answer, drinking yourself into oblivion.

You heard the door creak open softly. “Y/N?”

“I’m good, Mel. Go back to sleep.”, you groaned. “And no need to gloat on your way out.”

She chuckled lightly. “Hard to sleep when your best friend is puking her guts out.”

“I know—it’s my fault.”, you groaned.

“Was dinner really that miserable?”

“No. I’m happy for you and Wes, I really am. It’s just putting up with Joe.”

“Joe really isn’t that bad. I’ve had to put up with him a lot—he and Wes are kinda a packaged deal, you know.”, she crossed her arms playfully.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t hate you.”

You felt the nausea coming back on just thinking about him.

“He doesn’t hate you either.”

“Unless you wanna see me throw up again, can we finish this conversation later?”

“I’ll go make tea. Want some?”

“No thanks.”, you grabbed your stomach.

“Suit yourself.”, Melanie shrugged her shoulders playfully before closing the bathroom door.

_________________________________________________________________________

Several hours and a couple of tylenols later, you were finally beginning to feel like yourself again. You were lying on Melanie’s couch, staring at the white ceiling and debating your life choices. The only reason you had agreed to do this was for Melanie and Wesley. You had come to like Wesley a lot and you were happy to know he and Melanie were getting married. He was a good guy and seemed to genuinely care about her. You never expected her to find love in London, but you were happy she did. She deserved it after her last relationship.

“Wes and I are going to taste cake flavors today.”

“Sounds exciting.”, you responded lightly before turning your head to look at her.

She was putting her small hoop earrings in as she tried to simultaneously put on her heels.

“Who doesn’t love cake? Are you feeling any better? Think you’ll be up to the concert tonight?”

“Yeah, I think so. The room doesn’t seem as swimmy, so that’s a plus.”

Melanie chuckled in response. “Good. You and Joe really need to try and bond. It’s important to Wes and I. You’re our best friends and this is our big special day. We can’t have you all getting drunk in the bathroom, trying to avoid one another.”

“He’s the one who comes off snarky and like a pompous asshole.”

“Y/N, please. Just try. For us.”

“Fine.”, you groaned, crossing your arms.

“Alright, I’ll be back later. Go explore London or something.”

You gave a slight smirk at her as she grabbed her keys, and exited the apartment.

You turned on the television in an attempt to find something to watch, eventually leaving on the BBC channel and drifting off to sleep. The time difference was really fucking with you. Your phone’s annoying tones started you out of your sleep as you searched for your phone that you were sure you laid on the coffee table.

“Hello?”

Your voice was groggy.

“Hey. Can you do me a huge favor, please?”

Melanie. Her voice was desperate, she needed a huge favor.

“What’s up?”, you stretched easily, yawning.

“Have you been asleep?”, Wesley chimed in.

“Maybe. Look, the time difference is fucking with me. I’m jet-lagged. What’s up, Mel?”

“I forgot our wedding planner at Wesley’s apartment. We really need it.”

Your brain was trying to catch up.

“And risk running into Joe. No thanks.”

“Please.”, Melanie pleaded.

“Joe won’t bet there, I promise. He’s out for a run. Said he had to pick a few things up.”

You sighed, knowing you were gonna give in. But for the record, you were only doing this for them. No one else.

“Fine. Can you send me the address?”

“Thanks so much Y/N. It means so much to us. I’ll text it right over. See you soon.”

“Uh-huh, you’re welcome.”, you nodded through her endless appreciation.

You got up and threw on your shoes. For the weather, you had decided on jeans and a tank top. You had read that London’s weather could change at the drop of a hat. So far, it was warm and beautiful weather as you locked the apartment. You looked at the address to Wesley and Joe’s apartment, noting that it wasn’t very far from Melanie’s. You decided the walk couldn’t be that bad, right? Hopefully, you would avoid Joe’s running route. What psycho went running in the middle of the day?

You passed a lot of Londoners, feeling like you stuck out like a sore thumb. It felt like everyone’s eyes were on you as if they knew you didn’t belong here. Some people were riding their bikes, running, walking with friends and you silently prayed one person you wouldn’t pass was Joe. You were not in the mood to deal with him today. Not right now, anyway. He was like alcohol, you had to build a tolerance.

After a brisk twenty-minute walk, you arrived at the apartment numbered 213, knowing this was their apartment. Wesley had texted you, telling you there was a spare key under the mat in the event that he or Joe had forgotten their keys or locked themselves out. Looking around, you made sure no one was watching you as you pulled the mat up and grabbed the spare key. One step closer to getting in here, finding the planner, and getting out. That was your goal, that was your mission.

Clearing your throat, you slid the key into the lock. It opened with ease. You braced yourself as you entered their apartment, hesitant of what the smell would be or what you’d find but to your surprise, everything was fairly neat and in order. Shoes were lined up neatly at the door, the smell of bourbon filling your nose. You slid your shoes off, making your way into the apartment, feeling like you were in the clear.

Their apartment was posh-looking, especially for be two men living there. It was neat and classy, but honestly you didn’t expect much less from Joe.

“I wonder where she left that stupid planner.”, you sighed as you began to look in the living room.

“Well hello to you too, love. What planner?”

You jumped, not expecting to hear another voice in the apartment—much less from the person you loathed. Your eyes shot over to the kitchen to find a nude Joe in the kitchen, the counter covering his cock and balls. He had a huge cheeky smirk on his face as he lit a cigarette. His curly hair was sticking to his forehead, his arms glistened in the kitchen light. You cursed your body as your stomach twisted into a pretzel.

“Oh fuck—oh my God. I didn’t think you’d be home. Wes told me and promised me you wouldn’t be here.”, you stammered, covering your face.

Instantly, you could feel the blood draining from your face and your cheeks heating up.

“I came home from my jog a little early. It’s hard not to stare right?”

“Um no I just came here—for Melanie and Wesley’s stupid wedding planning book. Where is it?”

Joe smirked as he took a puff from his cigarette as you flipped over pillows on the couch, turned over magazines, and moved anything that you thought could be in the way of you finding this planner so you could get the hell out of here.

“I could tell you where it is—if you wanna do a little something for me in return, you know, help one another?”

“And what’s that?”, you snapped back, opening the cabinets to the entertainment system.

You were too focused in the living room to notice Joe coming out from behind the counter, his cock on full display. He chuckled softly, causing you to turn around and recoil.

“Maybe give me a little something of yours?”

You knew what he was implying, your eyes narrowing.

“Your sexy little cunt. God, it’s been a while since I had sex.”

“Please. You could have sex with any girl you want.”, you rolled your eyes. “And besides, I hate your guts.”

“Have you ever had hate sex? I mean you’re not looking away or telling me to put clothes on. It’s so big, it’s hard not to look, right?”

“Fuck off, Joe.”

He chuckled tauntingly like he was trying to make you mad. “Aw come on, you’ve never had one this big I bet. Have you?”, he asked, taking his cock in his free hand while he stroked the length of his shaft.

“I’ve had one bigger.”, you lied as you turned your attention to the bookcase.

“Really? Then you’ll have no problem taking mine, will you?”

“And just why should I?”

You skimmed through the bookcase, searching and hoping you’d find this planner. But it wasn’t looking to work out in your favor.

“Because I’m sure you got the speech where we need to get closer, didn’t you? Wesley gave me mine this morning before I left on my run.”

“So sex will bring us closer?”

Your tone was condescending, making it sound like his proposition was the dumbest thing you’d ever heard of.

“Maybe it just makes us hate each other a little less?”

“Where did she put this fucking book?”, you groaned, feeling like you wanted to pull your hair out while completely ignoring Joe’s question.

He watched you for a minute before putting his cigarette out in the ashtray, able to comfortably stroke himself now. You bent over looking in every place that you thought this planner could hide. Were you trying to entice him? It was like dangling a piece of meat in front of an alligator and expecting it not to bite. He bit his lip while watching you intently, thinking of all the things he could do to you. He’d make a mess of you, he just knew it. All he needed was the okay and he would.

You stood back up, running a hand through your hair and debating ripping some out in frustration.

“Fuck me.”, you sighed.

“I’d love to if you’d let me.”, came his snarky response.

You glared at him. “You really know where the planner is?”

“Of course I do. Wes and Melanie always work on it here.”

“And if we do this, you’d tell me.”

“Of course, I would. I’m not a total dick, Y/N.”

“I’ve already been here fifteen minutes.”, you eyed your Apple Watch.

“Fifteen minutes we could have utilized, hm?”, he hummed as he came closer—so close his breath was on your neck.

You could feel his eyes staring at you, studying you. You swallowed hard, closing your eyes. You were not about to give in to Joseph Quinn, were you?

“You’re a pretty girl, you know that? It’s just that fucking bratty attitude of yours.”

You turned to meet his eyes, him continuing to steadily stroke his cock. You couldn’t help it—your eyes wandered down to his cock. You pursed your lips, close to saying something in response but the words weren’t forming. It was like your brain was mush and you hated feeling this way. You hated allowing a man to make you feel this way. Feminists everywhere would be so ashamed.

“So what’s it gonna be, love?”

“Where?”, you sighed, gritting your teeth.

“The couch. Gotta make it quick and fast. You gotta get that planner to Melanie and Wes.”

“Thank you Captain Obvious.”, you rolled your eyes.

“Just shut up and let’s fuck.”, he breathed as he pulled you closer, crashing his lips into yours.

Your brain was running a million miles a minute, trying to think of every reason that this was wrong. He gently backed you up into the living room, beginning to tug at your jeans making quick work of unbuttoning them. You felt the button come loose, him tugging your jeans down so hard you were afraid he might have ripped one of your favorite pairs of jeans. Another reason you could hate him. He broke the kiss, allowing you to steady yourself by holding onto his shoulders as he bent down, helping you out of your jeans. Why was he being rough but nice? It didn’t make sense.

Closing your eyes, your brain was trying to convince you this was stupid. You hated this man. But you weren’t listening to your voice of reason, trying to bury it as one of his hands brushed over your cunt.

“Let’s just see how wet you are for me.”, he breathed as he pulled your panties to the side, immediately inserting two fingers causing you to gasp and dig your nails into his shoulder blades.

He smirked up at you, brown eyes burning with desire and lust. Not those little puppy dog eyes all the girls claimed he had.

“Fuck. You’re soaked.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to look at anything but him. “Am not.”

He laughed at your attempt to convince him otherwise. “Oh you’re soaked, love. This turns you on—I turn you on.”

“It isn’t you.”, you laughed bitterly as his fingers traced your wet folds, going deeper.

“No?”

“No.”, you argued more confidently. “Any human is gonna get turned on when sex is mentioned. Basic sex ed.”, you scoffed as you choked back a moan.

“I suppose.”, he agreed. “But you’re just a little too eager for this, aren’t you?”

“Fuck—you.”, you choked as he buried his fingers deeper. “Thought this was gonna be fast.”

“You want it rough and fast?”

“I’m sure Melanie and Wesley will be blowing up my phone any second.”

“Fine, we’ll fuck fast.”, he groaned as he slid both fingers out of your wet cunt, causing you to whimper before he picked you up and tossed you on the couch, grabbing your tank top, pulling it up and over your head fast and in a hurry.

All that was left was your bra and panties. Grabbing one side of your panties, he jerked them down your legs and kept only one leg in so it would be faster to put them back on or so you imagined. Climbing on top of you, he pulled the cups of your bra down and exposed your breasts just enough so he could play with them. There was no need to take it completely off when you all had to rush through this, right?

Wasting no time, he quickly lined himself up with your entrance. You inhaled deeply, bracing yourself for him. It had been months since you’d had sex and you weren’t going to lie, you were a little eager. Or your body was at least.

“Fuck.”, you hissed as he split you wide open, burying himself deep in your cunt.

“Thought you had one bigger than mine.”

You glared up at him. “It’s been a few months since I’ve had sex, okay?”

“Aw, you’ve been deprived, haven’t you?”, he feigned as he began to move his hips.

You closed your eyes and tried to ignore him, feeling him working himself deep inside of you. It stung slightly, but you knew it was because you hadn’t had sex in a while.

“Fuck you’re so tight.”, he groaned as he quickened his pace, the burning sensation intensifying.

Fighting the urge to crinkle your face, you hoped this pain would soon turn to pleasure. It always did. You didn’t respond to him, choosing to ignore him.

“M’ can tell you haven’t been fucked in a while. How long’s it been?”

“I don’t know—exactly.”, you moaned as you turned your head to the side.

“Sure, you do.”, he moved one of his hands to twist and pinch your hard nipple.

“I don’t know…six months.”, you breathed in a moan as he hit the spot that made you forget your name, instantly turning the pain into pleasure—finally.

“Six months.”, he repeated, breathing beginning to hitch. “I’m gonna give it to you so hard.”

You opened your eyes. “What are you waiting for then?”

He chuckled, a smile spreading across his face. “Be careful what you wish for, love….”

Without warning, he picked up his pace causing your eyes to widen and your senses to heighten. He was putting a lot of force behind it, pounding you into the couch so hard you could almost see stars.

“You—just—might—get it.”, he groaned out.

“Fuck, Joe.”, you moaned as you gripped his shoulder tighter, sinking your fingernails in.

“Your cunt takes my cock so well....”, he hissed as he grabbed one of your legs, slinging it over his shoulder, allowing himself more leverage.

How did you end up in this situation? It wasn’t by chance. Would it happen again? Your brain couldn’t hypothetically answer those questions right now, much more focused on something else—someone else.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah—fits like a glove.”, he grunted as he rutted himself into you.

You closed your eyes, trying to focus on a climax. You needed to cum and at least get something out of this for yourself other than Melanie’s stupid planner. You deserved it for having to put up with his dumb ass. It was happening, you were climbing that hill and fast. Joe could read it on your face, he could almost see your heart beating out of your chest. Your pulse was skyrocketing, you just knew it.

“Close?”, He breathed.

You didn’t respond. He was going to get an answer out of you—one way or another. Smirking, he pulled out abruptly causing your eyes to shoot open, a gasp leaving your lips.

“What—the—fuck, Joe?”

“You never answered me.”

You sighed, clearly annoyed. “I was close before you fucking pulled out.”

“See? Was that so hard?”, he asked.

You groaned. “Can you please just shut up and let’s finish?”

He grunted as he continued to fuck himself deep inside you. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on your own release. You needed this. Your stress was through the roof and you owed this to yourself to get through these next two months. Melanie never explained that you’d be coming to London for a wedding. It was just supposed to be catching up. Joe wasn’t supposed to be in the equation, not for the full length of time.

“It’s easily been thirty minutes.”, you groaned.

“It’s hard to cum when you’re complaining, love.”

“You probably jerk off thinking about it—about my bitchy little mouth, don’t you?”

“I’m not letting you get in control.”, he gritted his teeth, clearly becoming close.

The fight for power kinda of turned you on, helping you become closer to an orgasm. Anything to get you through this. His expression eased when he noticed the signs coming back—the signs you were becoming close to an orgasm again. He decided this time he wouldn’t be too mean. His curls were sticking to his forehead, sweat beading up on his forehead and face. One thing you learned in a short time during your stay here was that Londoners didn’t use air conditioning.

His single chain was dangling as he aimlessly fucked himself into you. What a grade-A douchebag he was. You knew he thought he was God’s gift to women. Hell, he’d probably have another one tonight at the music festival. All you were was a notch in his belt.

“Fuck—I’m gonna cum.”, you hissed.

“Oh fuck—cum all over my dick.”

His words sent you over the edge instantly. You tightened your grip, sinking fingernails into his shoulders as your eyes rolled back in your head, toes curling as you felt your cunt tighten around him and your juices began covering his dick.

“Fuck—fuck—fuck….”, was all you could hiss out during your orgasm.

A proud smile spread across his lips as he watched you come undone right in front of him. He wasn’t going to coerce you through your orgasm, you were a big girl.

“Shit, you squirted all over my dick. You’re a squirter, aren’t you?”

You didn’t answer him.

“Fuck, you are. And that’s sexy shit. Porno shit. Every man’s fucking wet dream.”, he laughed as he continued to fuck himself inside of you, only intensifying your orgasm.

Interrupting your moment of euphoria was your stupid cell phone. It took a moment for your brain to even register what it was. It was Melanie’s ringtone.

“Joe.”

“I’m working on it.”, he hummed. “Almost there if you’ll shut your bitchy mouth.”

“You have to fucking cum or get out of me because this means I’m taking too long.”, you rolled your eyes, squirming under him.

“Just relax. Gonna—cum—hold still, fuck—here it comes.”, he threw his head back. “Gonna fill you full.”

You feel his hips stutter as you held onto him haphazardly, instantly feeling his hot, sticky cum coat the walls of your cunt as you stretched just enough to answer your phone.

“Hello?”, your breathing was quick and sounded like you had run a marathon.

“Hey Y/Nickname, did you find our planner? The baker is kinda waiting on us.”, she laughed nervously. “What have you been doing? It sounds like you’re working out or something.”

Joe held back a laugh only snickering as he finished cumming deep inside of you, holding himself there and making sure none was wasted.

“Uh—just nerves. Can’t find your planner and freaking out. I was hoping not to have to call you but I can’t find it.”

Joe slid out once he was sure he was finished, causing you to wince as some of his load seeped out behind him. He disappeared into another room, leaving you on the phone with your best friend, practically naked.

“It’s in Wesley’s room. Just open the door and it should be on the bedside table or in the drawer one, I can’t remember.”

Joe came back with a towel and the planner, holding it like it was some prize.

“Uh, I found it. Be there asap. Send me directions to the bakery. Thanks, love you, bye.”, you hit the end button quickly.

“Clean yourself up and go. Here’s the planner.”, he tossed the towel at you and laid the planner on the arm of the loveseat.

“Really? What a gentleman.”, you rolled your eyes.

“And yet you could have just called Melanie from the beginning to ask her where her planner was, but you fucked me so I would tell you.”, he smirked. “Who really wants this worse than the other?”

You were lying there in disbelief, trying to process this. No way you wanted this more than he did. The only reason you considered this was because you hadn’t had sex in a while. That was the only reason—wasn’t it?

“You’re a dirty girl, Y/N. I’ll see you tonight.”

With that, he turned to go and disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. You groaned as you quickly wiped yourself off and fixed your underwear and bra before sliding your jeans on. You tossed the towel on the floor, leaving the remnants of the mess you made behind. You quickly looked at yourself in the reflection of the cabinet before grabbing the planner, you looked okay but you definitely needed a shower. In the bathroom, you could hear the sound of water cutting on.

You looked down at the address on your phone, opening the door to the apartment to leave. The sun was shining, it was a beautiful day. Closing the door and eyeing your watch, you knew you had to be fast. That took a little longer than you were expecting especially since you had run into some…obstacles. Deciding quickly to hail a cab, you knew this would be the faster route. You had to make up time and it felt bad to know Wesley and Melanie were waiting on you. You couldn’t tell them the real reason for your delay.

Ten more minutes passed before you arrived at the bakery, quickly paying your fare and exiting the cab, holding onto the planner for dear life. You threw open the door to the bakery to see Melanie and Wesley sitting with the baker, looking at designs and flavors while they apologized for the delay.

“Sorry, it took me so long. I looked everywhere.”, you laughed nervously.

“It’s fine, thank you for doing that for us.”, Wesley smiled as you handed him the planner.

“Yes, thank you so much Y/N.”, Melanie chimed in.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed causing you to pull it out of your back pocket. The number wasn’t in your contacts but you instantly knew who it was upon reading it.

-Thanks for earlier. We should do it again sometime. X

“No problem. I’m gonna grab some lunch and head back to the apartment and grab a shower before tonight. Have fun picking cakes.”, you smiled nervously, causing Wesley and Melanie to sense something was off with you but they couldn’t put their finger on it.

You rushed out of the bakery, feeling like you were about to suffocate. The fresh air with the breeze didn’t seem to quail your issues in the slightest. You needed to come to terms with what you had done and quickly. Reality was hitting you full force as you felt something between your legs. This really happened and there was no undoing it. Your phone buzzed again, reminding you that you hadn’t opened or responded to the text message. And your dumb-ass self actually looked again. It was going to be a long two months.

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #eddie munson #joseph x reader #eddie imagines #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #enemies to lovers #Spotify

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warlocks-and-phoenixes · 2 months

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@iyo-mcd-rewrite asked me to infodump in their DMs of what happened to Shad/how the War of the Magi began in my rewriteverse, because I pretty discarded all the crumbs of DWs lore in canon and made my own

I broke some brains in the MCDBB Discord a few months back when I settled on this specific version, as you’ll see in some screenshots from then. But now the masses may have it displayed to their eyes as well.

So essentially. The Void is present in the mcd/mys world (which I’ve named Terrum) but it is spreading at an exponentially slow rate. Shad Um’branis once, by chance, came across this strange patch of black rock out in the wilderness. He tried to touch it, but…well to him it felt, in a split instant, like having his hand grasped by a grip made of burning hot magma as it tried to drag him forward. He stumbled away, and left the cave confused and frightened. He meant to tell someone about it, but…after he left, by an hour later he’d lost all memory of the encounter entirely. He and his friends went on with their lives.

But Shad’s innate nature as the distant descendant of the God of Decay, and the mortal bridge between it and the living universe, creates a…unique interaction with the Void. It’s similar—but not the same—as the chain of events which created the Demon Warlock.

A regular living being directly touching the void rock would’ve had it spread onto them, and depending on circumstances would’ve died by the end of the day. Shad touching it, however, created something.

The Void recognized his death magic as itself, or close enough. It tried to pull him closer, consume him and his power as a boon, but as he pulled away the reaction instead created a new being. The Shadow Lord, as it is only known, was a parasitic phantom born out of the Void’s characteristics and the dark side of Shad’s self. It was essentially evil incarnate, its personality was the darkest parts of Shad’s subconscious, and it possessed powers over death and sickness similar to his own, except it exploited them and used them liberally and tyrannically.

There was a period of a few months after Shad’s interaction with the Void, when rumors spread around Ru’aun that there was some sort of dark, shadowed presence terrorizing and decimating villages. They themselves had tried to investigate, but they never found a source or reason, only…destruction in its wake. Shad, unbeknownst to the others, had began getting this strange pulling in his mind that grew stronger and stronger every time they went somewhere the specter had gone. (It also didn’t go over any of their heads that these corpses and dead villages looked inexplicably similar to what they’d all witnessed Shad do to their enemies in the past, but no one ever found the will to bring it up until it was too late for the benefit of the doubt.)

It all came to head one day in O’Khasis.

The Shadow Lord was born with only one base, primal thought; the rest of its intelligent conscience came over time. It was inherently tied to Shad’s soul, and as a roaming, bodiless spirit, it sought out him. The thing that, to the Shadow Lord, was his body and nothing else but a pest infesting it.

After it finally found Shad in O’Khasis, Shad didn’t know what was happening, but he fought back as best he could for years against this demonic evil that had possessed him. However, all the Divine Warriors saw on the outside was their friend who’d disappeared with Esmound’s murdered niece in his wake, and then reemerged for the next nine years as a man who was him, but was practically unrecognizable. All they’d seen was Shad inexplicably snap and go on a rampage across their beloved region and bring death and despair and destruction to thousands of innocent people. They were the only ones with the powers to fight back.

The War of the Magi ended when the five banished Shad to a desolate, hellish pocket-dimension called the Nether. This process destroyed Shad’s physical body entirely, leaving only his immortal, demented spirit alone in the crimson wastes. Except, the destruction of his body was what truly doomed him; the specter that survived in the Nether was the Shadow Lord, as it had overtaken Shad’s own human soul, and what survived of Shad’s consciousness was trapped down in the depths of his own spirit-realm (the others of which being the five divine-dimensions) as they no longer had a host-body to fight over.

Time was twisted there, and from there Shad had no bearing or possible way of knowing what was happening in the material realm. Since the banishment, he had no idea of anything the Shadow Lord did. Over 390 years later, Laurance Zvahl was born, along with four other people. He, as the destined successor to the Destroyer, was the only other compatible being that could work as a host for the Shadow Lord. 422 years later, Laurance Zvahl stepped foot in the Nether for the first time, but a Wyvern dragged him away. 438 years later, the Shadow Lord finally fulfilled, again, its base mission. 441 years after Shad found himself on this dead island in an abyssal sea, and 500 years after Irene the Matron was born, a soul named Laurance Zvahl fell from the featureless sky and joined him there. Laurance was the first person to ever learn the truth.

At the beginning, the Shadow Lord was a primal entity seeking only to spread its corrupted power over death, but later after merging with Shad’s mind it became a sentient being hellbent on avenging itself against “the former friends who betrayed him” via whatever means it had at its disposal. Thus, creation of the shadow army. With it, a prophecy was born.

This man will plague me for the rest of my days

(FC is art commandeered from Pinterest: source / source)

(Also Shad and Irene’s daughter doesn’t exist in my canon because I do not vibe with amoral Irene or DWs)

#minecraft diaries #shad the destroyer #laurance zvahl #the divine warriors #From the Pages

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alienaiver · 2 months

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Behind the scenes

the lovely @dira333 tagged me in this and its sooo fun!! the questions are so amazing and id like to give it my best with some in depth answers, since learning these facts about one of my favorite writers here was so fun !!!!! behind the scenes of writing is so good to share!!

Started writing: i think ive always been writing. i remember when we used to have one computer for the entire family in the early 00's and had little screentime, i set alarms to 4-5am (with no concept of what that Would Do To Me emotionally without sleep LMAO) JUST to get some time to write in peace. my first fanfictions i published was on a homemade forum page with a friend when i was 11!

Started blogging: ive had my tumblr since 2009-ish where ive been a rp'er over multiple times and published d gray man and no. 6 fanfictions in 2011-12ish. i was also active on livejournal before i found fanfiction.net !! but this specific blog was made in may 2021!!! the reader inserts came then :3

Followers: i actually JUST hit 300 two days ago!!! which is very exciting. i dont always look at the number, since it doesnt necessarily correlate with engangement, but its fun to see the uptick!!

Communication: i genuinely love love LOVE the social part of social media, and communications so important to me. theres nothing better than reblogs with comments you can bounce off of, asks, dm's and all that! sadly, my disability makes it so hard for me to have continuous contact and im 90% of the time the one to drop the ball when it comes to replying :(( thats why its extra important to me/special with the mutuals who keeps reaching out and dont have the same social expectations about replying. even if im unable to reply the day that i receive the message, it still brings great joy seeing the notif!

Likes: i dont mind them! generally its not that important to me whether or not my followers interact a lot. a like still means the world to me. of course a reblog is much better and engages so much more (+ boosts me!!), but theyre good for my soul, too!

Requests: i get very few requests :( i think i like them, but i havent gotten enough to actually get a feel on whether or not it kills my writing spirit? generally i get very excited to be able to deliver something and it gets me up from the bed to write, but i sometimes fear im not providing what they wanted! its anxiety-inducing in some ways, but i love a good little writing challenge !!

Writing: i loove love love love writing for hours at a time, hyperfixating on it. sadly, my cat snøfle is Very Jealous of both my laptop and pc. giving him a substitution sadly doesnt help</3 so my writing is often limited to specific times of day, and when he gets tired of my keyboard clack-clack-clacking, its time to put on some one piece while he naps on me! i wish i could write more works or just scenes on my phone, but it hurts my hands So Much, so i only write small one shots when im heavily inspired but snøfles in A Mood!!

genre wise im a fluffy type. maybe some hurt/comfort but always leaning towards comfort. id like to write more disability fics to spread both awareness and visibility, but i sometimes struggle with putting in my own disabilities and not make them too personal or too detailed for others to not relate. its an overthinking problem, so i often procrastinate writing them., bcos i fear itll be too niche! but i always get positive feedback (excpet for that one time with inked coffee lmao) so im not sure whats holding me back!!!

i always listen to music when i write, and it differs a lot. when i wrote the star and the earth i listened to a lot of medieval-inspired music, and made a specific playlist for that. but when i write on my modern au's or canon compliant bnha/haikyuu, anything goes!

i love putting in 'boring' every day stuff into my fics, or small scenes that dont necessarily advance the plot but just gives a feel of the characters.

speaking of snøfle ^ i am no longer allowed to write for the evening.... so ill start some apothecary diaries and enjoy a cold soda on this hot and humid evening !!! mwuah mwuah if u read this far thank you, and i love you. i love all of you <3333

no pressure tags as always but would love to hear the answers and get to know u all! @cup-of-fluff @true-deru @mirandabarma @illuminiscentboba @tetsuskei @threadbaresweater @krystalgaia @petriquors @ktsumu @moonbeamwritings @ohtokki

#tag games #waaah genuinely this made me so excited. i love talking about writing. can never shut up #wanna hear yalls thoughts and answers too but always remember theres no pressure if these are too personal 1!! its okay to skip any if you #want!!! <3333 smooching u¨

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towriteloveontheirarms · 11 months

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Think I need someone older (modern!Daemon Targaryen x reader)

synopsis: Your friend wants to drag you out to a club and then ditches you. Turns out the evening has even better company in store for you anyway.

warnings: drinking, age difference, smut, oral sex (f and m recieving), fingering, p in v sex, orgasm denial,slight daddy kink, afab reader

word count: 3.5k

taglist: @urmomsgirlfriend1, @hopelesswritergall

(If you want to be tagged in the `kissing booth AU´, for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

Stepping outside the fancy club you are currently at, you put a cigarette between your lips. One that you desperately need now. It´s usually not your scene. But when you go to turn on the lighter, it doesn´t work. You sigh frustratedly, trying it a few more times, before giving up and throwing it in the nearby trash can. And before you even get the chance to look around for someone to lend you a working one, someone already holds an engraved, golden zippo lighter out to you. Holding the cigarette into the flame you take a deep drag of it, slowly releasing the smoke from your lungs and turn around to look at the person that fancy lighter belonged to.

Turning your head to the side you come face to face with a linen shirt, paired with denim jeans and dress shoes and as you take another drag of the cigarette you tilt your head up to see the amused smile of Daemon Targaryen. It was widely known that the brother of the head of the biggest law firm in Westeros enjoys a good party, but still you never thought it possible that you would meet him some day. Nevertheless, here he was, smoking a cigarette with you while his lilac eyes, wandered over your scarcely clothed body.

“Thank you…” You thank him quietly. Shrinking a bit under his intense gaze. You were usually quite confident, but the way he eyed you so flirty made even your face heat up with a shy flush.

“No problem at all. What are you doing out here all alone?” His voice is low and rough. His breath fanning over your ear as he leans down ever so slightly to talk to you over the loud music from inside and the people standing and talking around you.

“I um… I just got ditched my friend, so I came out here to smoke a quick cigarette before going home.” You shift your weight from one foot to the other. The heels slowly beginning to hurt already, despite only having arrived an hour ago.

“Or…” He says in a suggestive tone. “You could forget about your friend and come back inside with me. We dance, have a drink and when we are done I´ll drive you home.”

Daemon looks at you with an expectantly raised eyebrow.

You think his proposition through for a second, while you finish your cigarettes. On one hand you didn´t know anything about the man. On the other hand he was rather stunning and it would be a shame to waste the evening sulking alone at home.

“Alright. I didn´t put myself into this dress for nothing after all.” Throwing the cigarette stump onto the side walk, you let one hand wander over his chest as you walk past him to get back inside. Daemon follows close behind. His hands rest firmly on your waist to guide you towards the bar, where he orders each of you a drink and two shots. Both of which get downed rather quickly. The liquor burning down your throat and warming you from the inside, before you toast your cocktail to his glass of Gin and tonic.

“To us having a fun night and to hell with my friend?” You propose.

“To a fun night.” He replies clinking your glasses together.

The beverages empty quickly and once they are gone, you lay your hand in Daemon´s for him to pull you onto the dancefloor with him.

The music is so loud you feel as if your heart is beating in the same rhythm as it, while your back presses against his chest. Hands crossed behind his neck and his hands caressing your arms and guiding your hips once more. This time to grind against him. You wantonly follow his lead, allowing yourself to get lost in the music and the hot trail his touch leaves wherever it meets your skin.

You press yourself closer to him, feeling his already hardened length press perfectly between your lower cheeks as you dance on him.

Daemon´s watchful eyes rest on you all the while. Not a single one of your moves goes unnoticed. The way you sway your hips or grind them against his, the way one of your hands strays from his neck to run through your hair. Once you turn around to press your chest against his, your hands instantly tangling in his hair, his gaze falls to your lips. So full and soft and perfectly painted in a shade of red, that could only be described as scandalous. His nose teasingly rubs against yours. Unable to stay further away any longer and to test the waters. A motion that is met with you responding to it in kind. A lazy smile on your lips and your eyes fallen half close in anticipation of what´s to come.

An anticipation that, though it lasts only mere seconds, feels like it lasts a lifetime. But then, with one more blink, both your eyes close just as your lips meet. Through the heated caress the rest of the world gets shut out of the little bubble the two of you share. His lips hungrily nip at yours, locking them over and over again. Stealing your breath and breathing it back into your lungs with every new kiss. The beat of the music that previously ran through your body is now replaced by the thrumming energy and burning need you feel from the softness of his hair, the warmth of his skin, the softness of his shirt under your fingers and the roughness of the pads of his hands that tightly hold your face.

Daemon´s tongue swipes out to press against your lower lip soon after. Licking over them to silently ask for entrance. To which your lips readily part, your togue entering a passionate dance with his that allowed you to explore each other´s mouths. Pulling each other impossibly close, he pushes you against the nearest wall.

“I think we should get out of here. Now.” You breathe heavily as you part from him, barely enough to speak the words. The look in his eyes tells you that sentiment is enthusiastically returned.

“Yes. Yes, we should.” He concurs.

Despite you only living only a few minutes away from the club, the drive there feels just as endless as the second before your first kiss. Your hand rubs restless circles into Daemon´s thigh. Your fingers venturing dangerously close to his crotch, as he speeds along the streets. Your kisses to his neck making the air in the car is so thick you could cut it and maybe it is just your fantasy running wild, but you think the windows are foggy from the heat between the two of you and the heavy breathing.

When he parks in front of your place, you all but jump out of the car. Barely even waiting until he walked fully around the car, before your hands are all over each other again. Daemon messing up your hair with one as he grabs your chin with the other. Your hands caress his strong chest through the unbuttoned top of his shirt. At the same time the two of you stumble over to the door. Your hands only let go of him to fish for the keys in your purse. Which all in all could have taken a lot shorter if you would have been able to peel away from each other, but alas. You finally make it inside where, as soon as the door closes, you start to lose your clothes, starting by kicking off your shoes, the mix of fabric ends up forming the beeline to the bedroom that you take.

There, he pushes you onto the mattress, climbing on top of you. Trailing sensual, but impatient kisses down your chin, stopping to nibble and suck some marks into the soft skin at your neck, to then continue their way over your collar bones to your breasts. Closing his lips around one nipple, took the other between two fingers. Sucking and twisting on them until your back arched off the bed and your mouth fell open in a silent scream. Only then he trails further down, pausing here and there to suck more marks into her soft flesh. Laving some extra attention onto your hip bones, until he reaches your thighs.

In one swift motion he pulls your legs over his shoulders and settles down so his lips press right up to the lips between them.

“Please, Daemon…” You let out a shaky plea, pressing your body closer to him.

Daemon presses countless little pecks all around your core, everywhere but where you need him most. Pulling more insistent pleas from you. The way he blows air onto your now near dripping core doesn´t do anything to soothe the fire in your veins either. Bucking your hips once more, with another whimper of his name, but all that did was bring his hands to your hips to hold you down firmly.

“Patience.” He reminds you with an amused tone while clicking his tongue.

It´s hard to stay patient though, when his tongue laps at your core so deliciously and yet torturously slow. It has you whimpering and whining uncontrollably. After a few more minutes of teasing he finally lets his tongue dive deep into your pussy. Licking a big stripe up until it reaches your sensitive clit. The action pulls a moan from you.

“Oh gods you taste so sweet…” He groans. After that Daemon is unstoppable.

He laps at you like a man starved. Drinking in every last drop of your sweet juices, just as he does your sounds of pleasure. Suckling on the small bundle of nerves, he brings two of his fingers up to your entrance. With how wet you are already, they slide in without any problems.

“Fuck…” You curse under your breath.

“You´re so wet, princess. All for me.” He whispers against your heat.

“Feels so good, Daddy.” The word just slips out in the heat of the moment, but by the looks of it, he doesn´t seem to mind it much. In fact he really seems to like it. Pumping his fingers in and out of you even faster and deeper than before. Pulling the most lewd sounds from your core.

Daemon soon adds a third finger, stretching your tight walls even further. The feeling so delicious it has you writhing underneath him and with how deep his fingers reach inside your cunt, they are bullying your sweet spot. Dancing black dots cloud your vision. Your eyes shut tightly, your hands desperately grabbing at the sheets and his hair in an attempt to ground yourself. When he moans against your clit you feel closer to the edge than ever. You barely even feel your toes curl. However you very much feel your orgasm subsiding right before it crashes over you.

“Nooo…” You let out a long drawn whine. Earning yourself a slap to the inside of your thigh.

“Be patient now. You will come around my cock. Can you do that?” He rasps.

“Yes, daddy.” You nod quick.

“Good girl.” Your eyelids flutter at his praise.

Then he shatters your hope of reaching your peak any time soon, by going back to pressing his lips to your wet heat. His fingers find their way back into your entrance and with that familiar stretch and the bullying of your sweet spot he brings you close to another peak. By now a thin sheen of sweat had settled over your skin and you were panting, struggling not to just stumble over the edge of pleasure that he brought you to. It was so close. So easy to take and yet it got taken from you every time. You are barely able to count how many times he has given you this treatment when Daemon removes his fingers from your cunt to lick them clean with a hum of satisfaction. Your brain is foggy with want and need, desperate for release. He can see it in the way your eyes, which never leave his, glaze over.

One more time the promise of coming gets into sight. This time, destroyed by his tongue entering your pussy. Fucking into you deeply, creating the lewdest noises yet.

You writhe on the bed, trying to get away from him in overstimulation and get closer to him to finally finish at the same time. Pleading with Daemon to slow down, but he continues devouring you, his fingers flicking at your fucking you with his tongue. Tears of pleasure and overstimulation stream down your face as he continues his ministrations, moaning against your cunt. The vibrations only serve to tease you further and right when you feel like you truly can´t take it anymore and he is finally have some mercy and is going to let you come on his tongue, he pulls away once more. Patting you on your core as you cry out. To say you are desperate is an understatement. A sentiment which he revels in. The sight of you so blissed out and incoherent for him even though he had just started made him beyond proud. Crawling back up on top of you, he presses a kiss to your cheek, right beside your ear.

“You´re doing so well for daddy. Such a good girl.” He whispers in your ear, before rasping into the other. “Are you ready for your reward?”

You hear the words, but are too far away in your mind to understand most of what he is saying.

“Please, daddy…” Are all the words that are left on your mind.

His chuckle sounds rough against your lips and he smirks into the sloppy kiss with which he seals your lips. One that you barely possess the strength to reciprocate.

And before you have time to come back from the world you are currently in, he enters your wet core.

A long gasp leaves you as he knocks the air out of your lungs again. You never thought it was possible for him to stretch you out more than he did with his fingers, but here you were. Undoubtedly he is the biggest you have ever had. Easily filling you to the hilt before he bottoms out. You are unable to lie still beneath him. Your back lifts off the mattress until your breasts press against his strong chest tightly. Your hands let go of the sheets to find his back. Nail raking red streaks on his perfect skin, before they dig into his shoulders, in an attempt to ground yourself even the tiniest bit. Though that gets thwarted by your own legs. On their own accord they move to wrap around Daemon´s waist to pull him impossibly closer. Your moans raising from quiet sounds to almost scream, that if you would be coherent enough to care, you would be insecure about that the neighbors would hear. Daemon´s own groans grow louder as your walls begin to flutter around his cock. And when he brings his hand down to rub small and fast circles in your oversensitized clit, you can hold it no longer.

“I´m so close. I can´t… I can´t…” You stutter between whimpers and gasps.

“It´s okay, baby. Let go for me. Soak my cock with your sweet juices.” His words sent you flying over the edge with one last scream of his name. The waves of your orgasm crash over you and pull you under with an intensity you had never felt before. Your cunt clenches around his shaft, pulling the most heavenly sounds from him. He follows you off the cliff of pleasure very soon after.

His thrusts becoming even deeper and sloppier as his groans grow louder. And then stills as he buries himself deep inside of you to paint your inner walls white with his hot cum. For a moment you just lay there. His weight is near crushing you underneath him, yet you don´t care. All you can focus on is the gentle touch of his sweaty forehead on yours and the way your chests heave against each other from the previous exertion. Yet, when he rolls off you, you are still not entirely back to reality. An incoherent whimper leaves your lips at the loss of contact.

“Shh. I´ll be right back, but we need to get you cleaned up.” He coos.

Once the two of you are all cleaned up and he got you something to drink, Daemon lays back down beside you. He pulls your half asleep form into his arms with your back to his chest. Reveling in his warmth you slip off to slumberland in a matter of seconds.

The next morning you woke up with your head laying on his chest. His breath making it rise and sink evenly. And as if he wouldn´t have looked like royalty before, in the golden rays of the sun, he looks even more so. You get overcome by the tingling feeling of needing to bite him and so you softly nibble on the muscle above his heart. The action gets him to stir in his sleep, before he wakes up with a surprised moan.

“Good morning…” His voice is gravelly from being unused for so long.

“Morning.” You smirk up at him as you kiss your way further down his body.

“What… What are you doing?” With him clearing his throat, you mentally bid farewell to his morning voice. Which had desire pooling between your thighs. Aching thighs as you only now realize.

“Just wanting to make you feel as good as you did me last night.” You again stop to nibble on his thighs. The muscles there tense under your doings, making the grin on your face grow wider. Daemon lets out a shaky breath, leading one of his hands to your head. Grabbing your hair to get it out of your face. In the process he manages to tug on it slightly. The dull pain on your scalp making you bite your lip. In his eyes you can see an amused twinkle at the sight. Yet you notice his cock already standing at attention all the same. After a few breaths you lower your head back down to place a few soft kisses down his shaft, to his balls. There you proceed to kiss and lightly suck on the sensitive skin until his dick twitched. Laving some more attention on them, you lick a stripe up the underside of his shaft until you reach the flushed, weeping tip.

You go to lightly suck on it and in a reflex Daemon´s legs flex once more. Placing some kitten licks on his hardness that have his breath catching in his throat.

“Fuck, don´t tease...” He pants above you as you take his length in slowly, bit by bit. Flattening your tongue and hollowing out your cheek you do as he says. Coaxing a breathy moan from deep inside his chest.

Beginning to bob your head up and down in a slow, steady rhythm you bring on of your hand to his stones. Massaging them with feather light touches. The hand on your head pushes you down further and you let him guide you to a faster pace. Unable to hold back a moan as he hits the back of your throat. The vibration pulling a groan from him in return. You hollow out your cheeks once more, focusing on your breathing and your hand playing with his testicles and your tongue swirling around his length, which twitches again in your mouth as he takes over guiding your head up and down.

With every time he brings your head down on his cock he pushes it deeper into your throat, making you gag and bringing tears to your lower lash line. The sight is so pretty to him. Like nothing he had ever seen. Daemon´s head falls back onto the pillow behind him, yet his eyes never leave yours. Too taken by you. The sounds coming from so deep within him countless and like music to your ears. On instinct you rub your legs together feeling a sharp sting from his previous night’s activities.

Too soon you see him suck in his stomach and hear him let out that telling groan of your name. Hollowing out your cheeks one last time, you take his cock in as deep as you can, letting him spill his climax down your throat.

Letting his dick out of your mouth with a pop, you swallow all his seed. Opening your mouth and stick out your tongue to show him that nothing had gone to waste. Daemon gives you a satisfied smile and then pulls you up to meet your lips with his in a passionate dance of tongues. Tasting remnants of himself on yours, he moans into the kiss, letting his hands wander over your breast.

Another sharp pain surges through your core and you pull away slightly.

“Still sensitive?” He asks with a chuckle.

“Yeah.” You smile.

“Alright, come here…” Daemon pulls you close to his chest again. Cuddling up close to him, you pull the blankets over you and rest against him.

“You know…” He speaks up again, nuzzling his nose into your cheek. “I could almost get used to getting woken up like this.”

You lower your head in laughter, biting his chest once more. “Is that so? Well, maybe you should ask me out on a date then…”

“Yeah. Maybe I should.”

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