#if you’ve sent me one in the past trust me it’s still there

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Away We Go {1}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: Autumn has been introduced to the world but there’s something more special for a first appearance: Monaco GP Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, angst, fluff WC: 3.7k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry || One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || 6.5 || Seven || SMAU || Eight || Nine NAV: Away We Go || One || Two

The white noise in the nursery threatened to put you to sleep too but there were still dozens of messages to get through. There had been a constant stream of well wishes to your inbox since the announcement to the world but one had been left on read for three days now and a little rage built each time you reread it.

It didn’t take long for new ‘exclusive’ information to pop up in the gossip pages, along with the photo you had taken and sent to Jos. It wasn’t a surprise at all, but it still hurt to read what he had said. Trusted sources close to Y/N say she is being monitored for Post Natal Depression and Psychosis, as it is no secret she has had trouble with mental health in the past.

“You are lucky, my love,” you whispered to your daughter who slept soundly in your arms. “Your fathers love you so much.”

You carefully stood up from the rocking chair beside her cot but the moment you started to lower her to the mattress she began to stir.

“Already a little arm princess, aren’t you?” you chuckled, settling back into the chair to start rocking again.

You didn’t mind getting these rare moments alone with her, even if you were exhausted from waking up to breastfeed her all through the night. As soon as Charles and Lando finished their Zoom Meetings with their teams they would be stealing her away for their own snuggles. It was safe to say everyone was smitten with her. And that wasn’t an exaggeration. The front door barely closed before another visitor came, and Max had taken up permanent residence on the couch when he wasn’t needed elsewhere.

“Is she sleeping?” P whispered loudly as she stuck her head in the door.

“She is, but you can come in.”

Max trailed in after her having let himself in the apartment with his spare key. Your mother was out grocery shopping again so she could do more baking for the visitors of the day. You had told her she didn’t need to but she was enjoying the company and feeding a small army.

“Have you eaten?” Max asked as he knelt down beside P who gently stroked the blanket Autumn was swaddled in.

“You’re as bad as my mother.”

“I’m just checking. Kel said everyone comes to see the baby but no one asks how the mum is doing. I want to make sure my sister is okay too.”

“Now you’ve done it,” you croaked as you started to cry. “I’m over these damn hormones. I was fine until you arrived.”

Max laughed and rocked side to side. “You’ll get over it. Should we go to the living room or do you like sitting in the dark?”

You accepted his hand and let him pull you to your feet since he had long ago mastered the art of carrying a baby one-handed. “You’re going to have your hands full when Vicki drops.”

“I have two arms. Unless you're planning on having another one right away?”

“Max, I love you, but I will punch you if you ask that again. I am still having to sit on ice pads because no one warned me about the goddamn haemorrhoids-”

“Okay, okay, fuck, stop!” he begged with a disgusted look on his screwed up face. 

Satisfied he wouldn’t make the same mistake again, you went to the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of water and a juice box for Penelope. 

“So Toto still hasn’t confirmed anyone for Lewis’ seat next year,” you said, passing him one bottle before taking a seat with P. 

“You’ve been talking to him?”

“And others,” you admitted. A few more of the Team Principals had sent their congratulations and the ones with empty seats for 2025 expressed an interest, asking what your plans were. “As soon as my six week check up gets signed off Kristian is going to become my worst nightmare again.”

“Do your boyfriends know that’s your plan?”

You shrugged. It had been spoken about before Autumn was born but they all thought having her in your arms would change your mind about returning to racing. None of the other parents on the grid gave up their careers to grow their families, and while there were still empty seats in the teams you were going to shoot your shot until every last one was taken. 

“Never let them know your next move,” you joked before sobering up and sighing. “Working mums are normal in every other business. Plus, I’m only talking about sim racing this year and if I can impress someone with the data then we can go from there.”

Max nodded along as his eyes traced over Autumn’s features, finding Charles’ dimples when her lips pursed with a soft whimper in her sleep. Penelope had finished her drink and turned all her attention to your daughter, giggling whenever Autumn sucked on her own lip.

“Can I have a baby sister?” she asked Max with bright, hopeful eyes.

“Maybe one day, P. You would make a great big sister.” She grinned at the compliment and snuggled closer until she was half on Max’s lap and holding Autumn too.

Monaco GP

“Ma fifille, tellement belle,” Charles gushed as Lando stepped out of the nursery with Autumn in his arms. She smelt sweet from the baby oil that hydrated her skin and fresh since Lando had changed her diaper before finding the prettiest dress in her closet for her first paddock entrance.

“I’m surprised he didn’t try to sneak her into McLaren gear,” you commented as you packed the baby bag with extra supplies for the day. Gone were the days of arriving at the paddock with just your phone, now there were a million things to remember since no one wanted to try to return home with the insane traffic that came with the road closures for the Monaco race.

“I hid them all,” Charles confessed with a sly smile before stealing a kiss from Lando’s pouting lips. “If she can’t wear Ferrari then she definitely isn’t wearing McLaren, mon cher.”

“One day when you are at Maranello…” Lando warned with a wink.

“You can finish this squabble later, we have a whole camera crew waiting outside.” The tone wasn’t quite as light as you hoped and it drew the attention of both of them straight to you. The joking smiles fell and Lando lay Autumn in her stroller and clipped in the buckles with a frown. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine.”

“You only gave birth four weeks ago, love, it’s okay if you’re not ready to go to the track yet.”

“We wouldn’t be upset if you watched from here,” Charles added.

“It’s Monaco and I am fine, just a little nervous.” Your blasé shrug didn’t fool either of them.

“Of what?”

Charles took over rocking the stroller back and forth so Lando could pull you into his arms. The warmth and security of his embrace was always enough to spill whatever was on your mind.

“The crowd, the cameras, your fans - take your pick.” You looked down at your clothes. They weren’t the designer dresses the other women would wear to the paddock but the maternity jeans and breastfeeding friendly shirt were tidy enough. You couldn’t help noticing the pouch where your belly sagged like a deflated balloon.

“Hey,” Lando murmured, catching your chin with his finger and guiding your head back up to face him. “Do we need to remind you how beautiful we think you are? I don’t mind being late. Charles?”

“I am more than happy to take a penalty.”

You chuckled at the enthusiasm but shook your head. “I would love nothing more than to drag you both back to the bedroom but save it for the six week sign off, you horny devils.”

“We can still show you how sexy we find you without fucking you,” Lando whispered in your ear and Charles’ eyes darkened at the little catch in your breathing.

“Don’t tempt me, but there’s still the problem of the camera crew outside and you’d be on your own explaining to them why we were late.”

“Mon amour, that is the man who asked Stroll if he could wank after breaking his wrists. Would you really trust him with that task?”

“I mean…I would find it funny. Zak might blow a gasket though,” you admitted with a grin. Feeling a bit more at ease after a laugh, you stepped out of Lando’s arms and took a steadying breath. “I’m going to grab a hoodie and we can go.”

Neither commented as you hid your body in an oversized Quadrant hoodie despite the summer heat but you barely made it halfway down the street before you asked Charles if you could push the stroller. There were too many people and too many screams for autographs that your heart started to beat erratically and your breath burned in your lungs.

“Are you okay?” Charles asked, ignoring the people beyond the security team that surrounded your group.

“Let her push, Charles,” Lando urged as he saw a sight he was familiar with in the mirror. It was rare for him in recent years now that he had you and Charles but he could remember the feeling of being out of control and the panic that came with it.

You grabbed the handlebar of the stroller and held on with a death grip in case someone broke through the security guards and knocked into it. Your knuckles changed colour from how tight you handled it and your legs pumped faster with the urge to get to the track and inside the walls of a team hospitality.

From the corner of your eye a shadow slipped through the bodies and your elbow flew out as your mind went straight to the worst case scenario. Was it an overzealous fan wanting a picture or a fanatic wanting to hurt your family?

“Ow, zusje, what the fuck?” Max asked as he rubbed at his ribs.

“Jesus Christ, Max, what are you doing? Don’t jump out at me like that.”

“She’s a little on edge right now,” Charles said quietly, acutely aware of all the cameras pointed their way.

“I can see that. Is it the crowd? Do you want me to call in reinforcements?”

Charles shook his head and walked quicker to catch back up to you. “We would probably be there by the time anyone came.”

Lactic acid burned your calves and reminded you just how hard you were going to have to work to get back to your pre-baby fitness but it felt good too. It brought you back to yourself in a way you had forgotten since becoming a mother and the endorphins from the exercise began to relax your body and mind.

Your pace began to slow and Lando smiled proudly like you had won a world championship. “Now can I hold your hand, love?”

You shifted your hold to the centre of the handlebar so you could still navigate the stroller and placed your hand in his. “Thank you,” you murmured as he kissed your knuckles.

“I would tell you not to worry but I don’t think it will make a difference,” he replied between waving to his fans.

“Aren’t you worried? There’s so many things that could go wrong.”

Lando stopped and turned with a serious look on his face that was only softened by the untamed curl that fell over his brow. “Of course I’m worried too, babe, this is our family and Autumn is the most precious part of it. But, I have to trust that we have done enough to protect her and you and Charles,” he said with a wave towards the security guards. “Do you remember how nervous you were before your first race? You could barely keep your food down and Pierre thought you were actually going to pass out during the Anthem.”

You rolled your eyes but a small smile leaked through. “Don’t remind me.”

“I would have caught you.”

“You were six inches shorter than me.”

Lando stood straighter and looked down at you. “That’s beside the point, I’ve more than made up for it now.”

“Yes, you have,” you said with a wink. “Much more than six inches.”

Charles interrupted the appreciative gaze you dragged over your boyfriend’s body. “Will you two please behave?”

A devilish smirk grew on Lando’s face. “Never, but I will go and sign some autographs before I get in more trouble.”

“Is it me or is he even more cocky?”

“Winning does that to a guy.”

Charles scoffed and curled an arm around your waist. “I will have to remind him what second place feels like, it’s my turn to win Monaco.”

Max laughed, reminding you that he was still there as you approached the paddock gates. “Half the grid thinks the same thing.”

“Well they have a chance with you starting P2,” you teased your brother before grinning at Charles who took pole position. “Take that chequered flag.”

You scanned your ID and the pass for Autumn too as everyone else did and clustered together on the other side again.

“Where are you going to be watching from?” Max asked as you approached his hospitality first.

“Homeboys box, but Toto wants a word so I’ll take bub there first.”

Max looked like he wanted to say something but his name was called out from his team waiting by the dark blue entrance. Instead he stepped forward and kissed your cheek before kissing Autumn’s and tickling her toes. “Tot zeins, mooi meisje.”

“She’s going to speak Dutch before me at this rate,” you complained as he walked away, still not knowing what he said to her.

“Learn quicker then.”

You threw him the middle finger that made him laugh before he disappeared and then it was your turn to say goodbye. Mercedes was the next garage followed by Ferrari then McLaren.

“We will see you before the race,” you promised as you unbuckled Autumn from her stroller and held her to your chest. The garages were tight enough as it was without trying to fit the pram inside too. “Say bye-bye daddy,” you said with a wave of Autumn’s little hand as she woke from her nap. “Love you.”

Charles and Lando both kissed her cheeks and said their goodbye before you received your own chaste kiss on the lips. “Call us if you need anything, I will keep my phone with me,” Charles promised before stepping away.

“Same, and these guys are going with you too,” Lando said with a nod to the security shadowing your sides. Your entourage joined you in Mercedes but thankfully took a wider perimeter since there was a fairly strict policy in who could enter the garages. Toto didn’t seem to mind the additions since you came bearing a pretty great gift.

“You are a beautiful time waster,” he said sweetly as he cradled Autumn to his chest. “I have work to do, little lady, yes, I do, but I’m not ready to hand you over, no, I am not.”

“I get the feeling that Jack will be getting a sibling soon enough,” you said to Lewis who swung back and forth on his chair with his headphones half on his head.

“I don’t think it’s Toto that needs convincing,” he said with a laugh. “It’s not his career that goes on hold, you know that.”

“I never would have said it before, but she’s worth it,” you admitted. “Still not sold on doing it again though, got one more championship to win.”

“I know that feeling,” he said wistfully. “Charles had better bring her to Maranello too.”

“I don’t think much work would get done if she was there,” you pointed out. “And like you said, you have a championship to win.”

Autumn suddenly decided that she was starving and started to cry as she nuzzled into Toto’s shirt and you laughed as you got up to retrieve her. “Sorry, bub, there’s no milk in those titties,” you teased as you picked her up. “Is there somewhere I can feed her?”

Toto looked around and shrugged. “Wherever you’re comfortable. There’s rooms down the hall if you want.”

“I’ve learned it’s not about my own comfort.”

“If anyone’s got a problem they are free to leave,” he said loud enough for everyone to hear and return to their work.

You took your seat again beside Lewis and unzipped the discrete opening on your shirt before unclipping the small window on your bra.

“Come on, man, she’s just trying to feed her baby. Get those cameras out of here,” Lewis said as he blocked the lens and started to herd the Netflix crew back out of the garage.

It had taken a week of trial and error before mastering the art of latching but now you had a routine and Autumn quickly fell back to sleep despite trying to keep her awake. Lando had joked he would sleep better if that was his routine too, at least you thought he was joking.

“Can you hold her please?”

Lewis didn’t need to be asked, he had been patiently waiting his turn since you walked in the garage. He even knew to draw soothing circles and pat her back to bring up her wind. “There’s those famous Uncle skills you bragged about.”

“Told you, I’m just down the road if you guys want a babysitter for date night.”

“I might take you up on that in a few weeks.” You looked over to Toto who was speaking to Bono and jutted your chin his way. “Has he mentioned anything about who’s in line for your seat?”

“Nothing set in stone, just lots of talk - or at least that’s what he told me.”

“Fair enough, you’re the enemy now,” you teased.

“Netflix is going to love this season. Did you see Nando re-signed?”

“Mhmm, I sent him a pot plant and instructions to wipe the floor with Lance. I think he’s taken it on board.” Fernando already had nearly four times as many points in the driver championship so far and you expected that to increase after the race.

“There’s rumours Lance is going to WEC next year, maybe there'll be another seat opening.”

“Fuck that,” you scoffed. “If I get a seat it’s going to be with a team that has some sense of loyalty. I’m sick of being dropped like a hot potato the second anything goes wrong. I’m desperate, but not that desperate.”

Lewis was about to be called for the driver parade and you realised just how quickly time had passed. “I should let you finish your rituals, we still have a few stops to make before the race.”

He handed Autumn back and gave you a hug. “Don’t lose that glow stressing about getting a seat, mama, enjoy your time with this little beauty. Che sarà, sarà.”

“Practising Italian already, huh?” you teased as you buckled Autumn into the stroller where she promptly fell asleep after the movement disturbed her. “I will keep your wise words in mind.”

The paddock was quieter as you made your way down the line of garages. Most guests would already be in the viewing spaces above the pit lane to watch the drivers parade so there weren’t many people for security to part.

“Ma’am,” the head guard called as he stood in front of an imposing suited figure. “He wants a word.”

You nodded your head and he moved to let the man through. “I’m kind of running late, Lawrence.”

“I just want to say congratulations,” your old boss said as he looked into the stroller and removed his sunglasses. “She’s very cute, you must be proud.”

“You could have sent a text message.”

Lawrence sighed at the frosty tone. “In hindsight things may have been handled a little callously but you should understand it was for your own good. This isn’t an office job that can be worked while pregnant, it would have been irresponsible as an employer.”

“I understand that, it was the fact you fired me without even talking to me first - I had to find out through the tabloids - and before that the way you let your son get away with treating his team is actually despicable.”

Lawrence pulled a white handkerchief from his breast pocket and cleaned his glasses as he stared off into the distance. “You’re not wrong, but we are working on his attitude and behaviour - discreetly.”

You raised an eyebrow but he wasn’t going to share anything further, instead he took one last look at Autumn and put the aviators back on his nose. Maybe there was some weight behind the rumours.

“Hopefully we’ll see you back on the grid at some point. You were one hell of a racer.”

“Am, Mr Stroll,” you corrected as you turned the brake off the pram. “I am one hell of a racer.”

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader

[daddy-suguru]

piercer!suguru giving you a brand new piercing 😫😫😫

✑ tags: f!tattooed!reader, piercer!suguru, light fingering, cockwarming, friends with benefits, cockwarming, heavy praise,

You had swung by his shop after closing. For the nipple piercing you’ve been on the fence about and finally settled on getting. After he sent everyone home, cleaned after they cleaned up everything but Suguru's personal room.

You adore having these private, after-hour appointments with Suguru. Fucking your tattoo artist for ink and body jewelry wasn’t something you would go for. But you happily fuck Suguru without getting ink and body modifications.

Wearing his art and his obsession with the clit piercing you could only trust Suguru to give are both perks. And Suguru freely admitted, seeing his art on your skin made his cock throb. Which was a first for him.

It was better than any other marks he could try to create during sex. The black and colorful ink is long-lasting, leaving parts of himself with you.

Granted you didn't have to be naked to get just your nipples pierced. But having Suguru standing between your legs. While slowly pumping two thick gloved fingers inside you, helps calm you down.

Cupping your cheek, reassuring you, ���I'll be quick." Kissing the top of your head, sliding his hand down your neck. Grabbing your shoulder and pushing back. You lay down, slipping his fingers out of your pussy.

Tell him, "Sugar I know you'll make my nipples look cuter. It's just the pain. They are sensitive." Suguru pulls his shirt off over his head, dropping his sweatpants. Showing he wasn't wearing underwear all day.

No wonder the picture of his cock imprint was more mouthwatering than normal.

He smirks and insists, "Trust me I know how sensitive they are." Wrapping his hand around his cock, smearing your slick over it. As he glances over at the small table next to you. Where there are fresh gloves, clean wipes, needles, and your nipple rings.

Your pussy is throbbing, missing his fingers. Pointing out to Suguru, "Too bad you can't play with them for a while after this. I'm going to miss your mouth and hands." He is attentive, making even the nastiest fucking have a hint of sweetness with how he worships your body. With your nipples, he is a menace, and obsessive.

He climbs onto the table, while you spread your legs for him to settle in between. With his hand wrapped around his cock, he smears your wet lips. While he confesses,

"I've been looking forward to seeing you all day. I love my job, but knowing that I have an appointment with you makes it a drag. Though the guy who got the tattoo of you as a pinup girl was kind of fun."

Suguru has plenty of his art on display in his shop, with some of those pages deticated to your face and body. All of which he would rotate out with new drawings monthly. Always keeping the more sensual ones to himself. Which he had plenty of, since sometimes after sex he loves drawing you while smoking a cigarette.

Pleading with Suguru, "Please, can we cock warm while you pierce me? I want your fat, throbbing cock to help distract me." He slowly pushes his tip past your lips. Spreading your legs, watching your pussy take him.

His mouth drops into an o as his eyes flutter shut. Falling forward, bracing himself with his hand. A smirk stretches across his lips, and he groans, "Fuck you feel too damn good!" He grabs your thighs, wrapping them around his waist.

He warns you, "Just as long as you are a good girl and keep still for me while I pierce you." Changing out his gloves for new ones. He rips open the cleaning packet. Softly massaging your nipple while cleaning them simultaneously.

Softly rolling his hips, dragging his cock head along your sweet spot. Before softly nudging your cervix, grinding your grind against his navel. You recall,

"What happened to 'be still'?" He sets the cleaning wipes aside. Stilling his hips as you pout. While he grabs the clean needle, and clamps as he excuses himself with,

"Couldn't help myself, princess. She's so wet, sucking me in." Pinching your left nipple with the clamp, pushing the needle through. Groaning, "Fuck baby girl I felt that in your pussy. She's too tight."

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #suguru geto #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto smut #getou smut #getou x reader #getou suguru #suguru getou #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #getou suguru x reader #suguru getou x reader #suguru getou smut #getou suguru smut

[modawg]

it’s so sad to me that nico like never learned how much percy tried to help him yk

like percy literally rounded up his closest friends after being the only one to find out nico was the son of hades and decided to at least try to give nico a chance to live his life when the kid literally just tried to kill him, his sister just died, and through everything percy knows hates his guts - like he took all that info and decided to make a suicide pack with his closest friends in order to protect nico when giving nico the prophecy would’ve been the most logical and honestly understandable thing to do

like genuinely do ppl realise how EASY it would’ve been to just give the prophecy to nico his ONLY living relative (other than hades) just DIED they could’ve been like “listen you take this prophecy give it 6 years you’ll be dead with your sister and literally everyone else you know and you’ll be a hero for it” instead even though percy has an entire life, people who love and care for him, and a future wife infront of him he takes it upon himself to DIE in 3-4 years how fucking BONKERS is that

he also almost abandons a WHOLE OTHER QUEST putting himself and annabeth in danger just bc dumbass nico is out doing god knows what in the labyrinth and ends up getting caught (he was doing smth i’m being dramatic but still)

could you imagine being percy your going to war (and from your perspective you’re going to die in the next week or so after methodically doing everything in your power to keep this other random kid who you think hates you from suffering that fate) that kid comes up to you with a plan so you trust him just do be stabbed in the back bc that kids father wants him to be the prophecy child even tho you’ve been mentally preparing yourself to die for the past like 3 years?? id jump that kid too if he randomly came into my deep dark prison cell trying to break me out and then shun him after all that

like i read the way nico talks abt percy and he just seems bitter all the time he’s like “psh percy and his fake friendship what a dweeb can’t believe i had a crush on THAT guy🙄” like you’d be dead if it wasn’t for his friendship gay boy

i want like 5 years into the future annabeth is sitting with nico one day and is like “lol yeah i remember that one time percy made us all pinky promise to keep you safe and we all thought he was dumb bc you hated him sm but he really just wanted you to have a good life and now look at you!! :)” and nico to slow turn to her “…what”

like to this day i get that nico was mad at percy for not protecting bianca and bc of his internalized homophobia or whatever but why not hate on the actual people who sent her on that quest rather than a random kid you just met who said he’d try WHICH HE ACTUALLY DID DO and not idk literally any adult figure who sent her into the fire to begin with

i just want nico to realise that percy is simply just a boy who literally wanted nothing to do with any of this and was trying his best to free nico of that same burden sigh (;_;)

like those two are the fattest example of a miscommunication held together by misunderstood betrayal

disclaimer this is obv dramatic and the prophecy definitely doesn’t work like that but like think abt it ok

#hoo #pjo #heros of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #hoo fandom #pjo fandom #hoo text post #pjo text post #nico di angelo

[kgficz]

Back in Time

Logan Howlett x Reader, Wolverine x Reader

Summary: Set in Days of Future Past; Logan has lost everything, he has lost you. He’s finally been sent back in time to change the future. How can he keep his head straight when he travels back and sees a younger you?

Word Count: 1.6k

Author Note: Reader has heightened strength and ages pretty much as slowly as Logan.

Hearing a knock at the door startled you; no one had come by in years. You shook your head slightly before walking over to the door and cracking it open, wanting to check who it was before you welcomed them with open arms.

“Can I help you..?” You questioned with a raised eyebrow, the attitude clearly shown in your tone.

The man gazed down at you, his lips parting as he sucked in a breath. You frowned as he watched you; feeling slightly uncomfortable by how focused he was on your features.

“Hello..” you add, waving a hand in front of his face; causing him to snap out of it.

“Uh.. hi” he replies quickly, his face still showing surprise as he fights the urge to reach out to you.

“What- happened to the school?” He asks, his shoulders rising and falling as he breathed deeply.

“It’s been shut for years” you reply, still keeping the door only slightly open. “Are you a parent?” You add

“Sure as hell hope not” he chuckles, his eyes still fixated on you.

“Where’s the Professor?” He questioned causing you to cock your head.

“What professor?” You ask, playing dumb.

His hand reaches in an attempt to open the door, but you’re quick to push back against it; you’re strength matching his.

“I know he’s here, I need to talk to him” he attempts to explain. You can tell a part of him is holding back as he talks to you.

“He’s busy” you reply, pursing your lips; not trusting this guy.

Soon he pushes through the door, his strength finally winning as he walks past you.

“Hey!” You yell before grabbing his arm and spinning him around to face you. “What do you think you’re doing?” You question with a scowl on your face.

He grins as he looks over your face. “Look, my name is Logan” he begins, “I’ve been sent here to speak with Charles and although you’re incredibly gorgeous, you’re not gonna to stop me” he finishes before turning around and heading up the staircase.

“Don’t you walk away from me” you reply angrily as you storm after him.

You stand in front of him quickly, blocking his way to Charles’ office.

As Logan attempts to move past you, you bring your leg up; kicking him hard in the chest and sending him flying across the stairs into the opposing wall.

He hits the wall with a groan before dropping down; his legs quickly keeping him balanced. You stand tall, prepared to take him on before he smirks.

“It’s been a long time since you’ve done that” he chuckles before coming back over to you. You tilt your head, confused by what he was saying. You sure as shit knew you hadn’t met this guy before.

“You ready to get the hell outta here?” You taunt.

“I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart” he replies.

“I wouldn’t worry about it” you scoff as he continues to walk towards you.

You pulled your arm back before landing a blow to his chest, causing him to stumble. You step forward again, ready to launch another one when he grabs your fist with his hand; squeezing your knuckles. You prepare yourself to kick him again when you’re unfortunately interrupted.

“What’s going on here?” You hear Charles say as he walks around the corner. Logan drops your fist when he looks up.

“Professor..?” Logan mutters.

“Please don’t call me that.” Charles replies quickly.

Your eyes flash between the two of them. “You know this guy?” You question Charles.

“Yeah, he looks- slightly familiar” Charles says as he steps up beside you.

“You can walk..” Logan acknowledges, his eyebrow raising.

“Well, aren’t you perceptive?” Charles replies as he walks past you both and down the stairs. The two of you follow him quickly, although your eyes are focused on Logan.

“This is private property..” Charles begins, turning to face Logan. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that..” Logan replies.

“Because— well, I was sent here for you.”

“You can tell whoever it was that sent you, that I’m busy” Charles replies with a roll of his eyes.

“That’s gonna be a little tricky..” Logan says, “since the person who sent me… was you” he adds.

You and Charles immediately exchange looks; you’re clearly give him the ‘this guy is nuts’ look that he has seen so often.

“What..?” you ask, cocking your head at Logan.

“About 50 years from now” he adds as his eyes lock with yours. Every time he gazes at you.. his eyes soften.

“50 years from now..? What like the future?” Charles laughs.

“Piss off” he adds with another chuckle, looking back over at you.

“If you had your powers right now, you’d know I was telling the truth” Logan states, his eyes moving back to Charles who was now sitting on the staircase in front of him.

“How do you know I don’t have my p-“ Charles begins to question. “Who the hell are you?” He adds, growing frustrated.

“I told you. I know you, Charles” Logan replies, walking over to him. “We’ve been friends for years..” he says before looking over at you.

You were beginning to think he may be telling the truth.

“I know your powers came when you were 9. I know you thought you were going crazy when it started- all the voices in your head” he says, tapping the side of his skull. “And it wasn’t until you were 12 that you realised all the voices were in everyone else’s.” He finishes.

A deep breath escapes you. How did he know this? You didn’t even know this stuff about the Professor.

“Alright.. you’ve peaked my interest. What do you want?” Charles asks cautiously.

“I need your help to stop Raven. We need your help”. Logan answers.

“What does Raven have to do with this..?” You ask in a soft tone, causing Logan’s attention to snap back to you.

“Her power becomes weaponised” he replies, taking in a breath.

He begins to explain what happens. How her actions lead to the downfall of all mutants. That these “machines” begin to adapt to your abilities, hunting you down and taking you out one by one. As he remembers the people he has lost, his eyes fall on you; as though he is trying to memorise the features of your face, the freckles on your cheeks…

The way he looks at you; you begin to feel that he truly does know you.

“Even if we do believe you..” Charles mutters, “Raven won’t listen to me” he concludes.

“I know.. that’s why we’re gonna need Magneto too” Logan says, standing tall.

You let out a huff as he finishes speaking. “Excuse me?” You question. “You do know where he is, right?” you say and he nods.

Charles begins to chuckle to himself as his head hangs down. “He is where he belongs” he replies as he stands up and begin to walk out of the room.

“You’re just gonna walk out?” Logan begins, “the Professor I knew wouldn’t give up on someone who lost their path. Especially someone he loved.” He adds.

You bite the inside of your cheek as he says this, thinking back on Charles and Erik.

“You know.. I think I’m beginning to remember you now. Tall, angry fellow with contentious hair..” Charles begins to reply, “we came to you a long time ago, seeking your help.” He says as he steps closer to Logan.

“I’m gonna say to you, what you said to us then” he says quietly.

“Fuck off”

Logan’s hands reached out, grabbing the scuff of Charles shirt and pulling him towards him. You quickly step forward, your hand grabbing Logan’s arms and squeezing tightly.

Logan’s focus shifts to you for a moment, his jaw clenched before he lets go.

“Listen to me you little shit..” Logan growls, towering over Charles. “I’ve come along way, and watched a lot of people die” he adds, his eyes glancing over at you as the words leave his lips.

“If you want to wallow in self pity, then you’re gonna watch the same thing. Understand?” He says firmly, keeping his eyes away from you as you step back from him; processing his words.

“We all have to die sometime” Charles retorts before walking away.

Your head hands low as you let out a sigh before licking your bottom lip. You watch Charles leave the room before turning back to Logan.

“He’s going through a tough time” you speak quietly, grabbing his attention.

“I’ll speak with him” you add with a gentle tone.

Logan lets out a breath before nodding, accepting that you speaking with him might be the better option. His hands rest on his hips as he takes you in.

“You know… it’s really good to see you” he finally says, acknowledging the fact that he has missed you for a long time now.

“I’m guessing we’re best pals in the future, huh?” You reply with a raised eyebrow and a small smirk.

“Something like that” he replies with a gentle tone.

“I’m sorry about… what you’ve been through..” you say, clenching your jaw as you finish speaking.

“Yeah.. me too” he mumbles quietly. He had never had to fight this hard to not reach out to you, to not pull you into his chest and never let you go.

Holding himself together felt nearly impossible. The only thing that was holding him together was the possibility that at the end of all of this, maybe you’d live. Maybe he would feel whole again.

You feel your heart cracking open as you stare up at him. There was something about him. Something that you trusted for some strange reason you could not explain.

“Well… let’s do something about it” you beam, doing your best to lighten the mood.

His lips crack into a smile as you speak. Seeing you like this; seeing you so full of light… he wouldn’t lose you. Not this time.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fic #logan howlett #wolverine imagine #wolverine x reader #wolverine fic #wolverine #xmen x reader #xmen imagine #xmen

[allzelemonz]

Sit Still: Arthur Morgan X Male Reader

Fictober Prompt: Day 6, Dubcon/Frottage Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘boy’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Slight dubcon, frottage, sex with clothes on, grinding, kissing, neck kissing, marking, low honor Arthur Morgan, dominate Arthur and submissive Reader, sleeping, slight cuddling Summary: With the whole camp noticing Arthur’s darker turn recently, Dutch sent you out to keep an eye on him.

The gang isn’t entirely sure what’s been going on with Arthur. All Miss Grimshaw told was that he’d told Mary-Beth that he’d been killing people without reason. Even Dutch is concerned, shutting himself and Hosea in his tent to talk about their son. You heard John telling Abigail not to let Jack near him for now. Kieran’s been shyer around him. Uncle hasn’t asked him for money. Something is wrong with the Van der Linde work horse, his mind isn’t as it should be.

So being alone with him is a little unnerving.

Dutch warned you explicitly before you left for this overnight job. “Watch him.” He said. “Tell me what you think.”

You glance up at Arthur. His eyes are fixed on the fire as he pokes it with a stick. He seems fine right now and he was pleasant enough on the ride out, telling a few jokes and making idle conversation. Dutch trusted you with this little ruse, a half baked job to observe Arthur’s mental state, because he knows you can handle yourself. You could fight him off at the very least, get to your horse, and you can watch him unlike Micah or Bill.

Still, your heart races.

“What’s got you all worked up?” Arthur mutters, eyes fixing on you as he sits back on his bedroll across the fire. “Somethin’ Dutch said?”

Your breath hitches but you shake it, keeping your cool. “Just cold out here, should’ve worn a better coat.”

Arthur hums, his eyes boring into you so hard you can feel it.

He just seems different, very much not himself. You know Arthur well enough to know he’s not usually the kind of man to feel so off putting. He’s an outlaw, sure, but he’s usually the type you’d feel safe sharing a camp with. Right now you have half a mind to think he might slit your throat in your sleep. But it’s Arthur, he wouldn’t do anything like that. He wouldn’t.

“Cold, huh?”

You meet his eyes for a moment, that same bright color shaded by the dark flames. They look menacing somehow, even though you’ve seen them scrunched with laughter and accompanied by flushed cheeks. You just nod.

“Suppose I am too.” He says without a hint of a shiver. “Maybe we should share, keep each other warm.”

You feel a twinge in your chest. Share? With Arthur? No doubt you’ve thought about it, cuddling up to him in his tent on cold nights at camp. And you especially thought about it when you were up in Colter. But now, with the way Arthur’s been these past few weeks, the thought makes you nervous.

“I’m alright, Arthur.”

“No.” He says gruffly. “I insist.”

You stare for a moment. Insist?

Then Arthur moves, standing and walking off into the dark. You assume he goes to take a piss, not overly concerned about his whereabouts. He’s too far away to see for a while so you give yourself time to think. Arthur Morgan… insisting?

It happens fast, hands shoving your shoulders and weight on top of you before you can do anything. You’re pinned to your bedroll and when you look up, it’s Arthur’s dazzling eyes looking down at you. He’s sitting on your legs, just below your gunbelt, his hands holding your wrists on either side of your head.

You swallow your nerves before you speak. “Arthur?”

He shushes you, soft and smooth, as he moves your wrists together so he can hold them with one hand. You don’t have the present mind to protest anyway. With his newly free hand, he unbuckles your gunbelt and you mindlessly lift your hips to let him pull it off.

“Good boy.” He mutters, his hand settling on your stomach. “Sit still fer me.”

You don’t dare move when he lets your wrists go. Arthur could kill you in a second if he really wanted to. Even if you still had your guns, no one is a faster draw than him. He shifts up your legs a little, leaning forward so his body covers yours. Your mouth goes dry when you feel it, Arthur’s dick pressing into your own. It’s hard, straining against his pants as he begins to grind into you. He hardly bothers to spare you of his weight, leaning hard into you and his arms only serving to sit beside your head as he breathes against your neck. His legs are spread over you, leaving only your own legs as a probable means of escape.

But do you want to?

Arthur’s an attractive man, usually a good one too. The Arthur you know would have asked before pinning you down, he would’ve been more gentle about it. But this… this feels good too. Arthur’s dick rubbing yours through two layers of pants has already gotten you half hard, and when you feel his lips at your neck, you become solid. Arthur groans against your skin, his hips digging against yours further and faster. He’s sloppy, needy, and you wonder why he doesn’t just shed the clothes keeping you apart.

In a way, you’re thankful he doesn’t.

“Ya feel good, boy.” He murmurs, his lips pressing wet, hot kisses along your neck.

“Arthur…”

He shushes you again, moving his head to kiss you properly. He’s warm and he tastes so deeply of whiskey you have to wonder if he’s drunk. The movement of his hips distracts you before you can think much about it. Fast, impossible good ruts that make your clothes rub heavenly against your sensitive dick. And when paired with Arthur’s rough lips on your own and the force of it all, you feel yourself getting close.

Arthur pulls away from the kiss, sitting up slightly as his hands return to hold your wrists. You haven’t moved them, you’ve barely moved at all. Only the slight jut of your hips or the squirming of your legs, nothing Arthur has noticed. He grinds down against you, a low groan coming out of him and you have to hold your own expressions in.

“Knew you’d be good.” He mutters. “Just wait ‘til I do this proper.”

You feel a hitch in your throat, then the waves over take you as Arthur ruts faster. You grind up into him and you can hear him chuckle as he leans down to suck a mark into your neck. Your vision blurs a bit as you come down. There’s a new feeling that accompanies the same heavy weight of Arthur, a wet warmth in your pants. Arthur has drooped into you, his breathing slow and steady and his arms wrapped around you. Timidly, you move your arms around him once you hear the gentle snores.

You have no idea what you’ll tell Dutch now.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x male reader #red dead redemption x male reader #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #x reader #x male reader #fictober #kinktober

[lewmagoo]

six summers | bob floyd

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

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

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

series status: ongoing

listen to the playlist here!

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

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

July 30th, 1980

1:15 am

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

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

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

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

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

May 18th, 1986

10:30 am

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Mar. So am I.”

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

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

And then, “holy shit.”

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

“Camp Mitchell,” you whispered. 

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

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

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

Best wishes, 

Penny Mitchell

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

July 1980

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“O-okay. We can look together, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something was wrong. You knew it. 

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

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

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

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

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

One Week Later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But they made you warm with shame nonetheless. 

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

You wondered if he thought about you, too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t. 

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

You squeezed your eyes shut. 

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

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

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

It sent a burning ache through your chest. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looked like a man. 

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

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

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

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

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

Six Years Ago

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. 

“Bobby—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May 1986

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

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

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

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

Everything had come full circle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did everyone come back this year?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kinda, yeah,” came your answer.

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

“Sure thing,” he replied.

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

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

“Why what?”

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

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

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

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

“You need a minute?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ve still got ‘em.”

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

“The bracelets I made you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s a tricky one, that Fate.”

“Don’t I know it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you said with a nod.

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

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

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

You liked the sound of that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” Natasha piped up.

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

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

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

“What’s that?” The woman asked.

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

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

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

“I-I just thought that–”

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

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

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

“No, but–”

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

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

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

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

The room went dead silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was Bob, you realized. 

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

And then, silence.

“Oh.” 

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

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

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

“I’m not so sure about that.”

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

“What?” Jake asked, incredulous. 

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

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

And with that, Jake stalked off in a huff. 

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

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

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

“Good.” 

And with that, Jake Seresin walked away.

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

You shook your head. “I…I don’t…”

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

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

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

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

“Want me to walk you back?”

“I’d like that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What had you gotten yourself into?

to be continued...

-

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

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

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

[hamiltonaf]

Can you do one with Kylian being very jealous of yn all the time and every time she talks to a guy friend he gets mad and makes a big fuss about it and yn gets tired of him and wants to leave him but then he gets upset and begs for forgiveness but she is so tired of his bullshit and want to take a break from the relationship but after 1-2 months they get back together and he got jealous again so she wants to know why he is like that and it turned out that his ex girlfriend cheated on him multiple times so he had trust issues and she assured him that she wasn’t going to do the same thing

Trust Issues | Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Minor angst

A/N: Hii loves ! I’m finally back. Apologies for being MIA, I had a lot going on, plus I had writers block. I’m sorry in advance if the end is disappointing - I honestly feel like I forgot how to write lol. If you’ve sent a request before, please note that I’m working on it. Anywho, enjoy .xoxo

Never thought I’d come to a point in life where I had to cut off all my guy friends for Kylian’s sake. I’ve told myself in the past that if I had to face that in a relationship then I’m walking out. Mentally I’m playing hangman with Kylian’s name.

I love Kylian, I really do, it’s also cute at times to see him get jealous but when it comes to a point when he tells me that I need to stop talking to my guy friend then I don’t vibe with that. He’s basically saying that he doesn’t trust me.

We’ve fought, he apologised, I looked past it for us to move on, but he just crossed the line.

I went out for a friend’s birthday dinner, Kylian decided to stay back and chill at home, though he promised he would pick me up after. The birthday dinner felt like a reunion as some of us were seeing each other after years, it was great catching up with everyone, especially Daniel. Him and I were really close growing up as our parents were good friends, but since I moved and was with Kylian I rarely attended gatherings.

It was getting quite late and Kylian was delayed, I didn’t bother rushing him since Daniel was accompanying me and we were just catching up on lost time. We were stood outside the restaurant, dinner had just ended, some had left and others were in their own conversations. “So how are things going? What have you been up to ?” Daniel eagerly asked. “Well, I’m in my final year of studying so it’s been a bit much but I’m coping. How are things going for you ?” I replied. “Life is great. Can’t complain” he smiled proudly. “Still running your parent’s empire I suppose” I smiled. “Nothing has changed” he grinned.

“Good for you Dan. You’re living the dream” I half laughed. “I’m living the dream ?” He scoffed. “Yeah of course ! You’re travelling literally every other month, flying first class and living the good life” I said. “Yeah but you’re the one dating the football player !” He stated. “Speaking of him, let me just check how far he is” I paused to check my phone if perhaps Kylian called or messaged. Nothing.

Just as I locked my phone, my head turned when I heard a car rev in the distance, he’s here. “Oh look. There he is” I said as both of our heads snapped to Kylian pulling up beside us. Daniel leaned towards the car as Kylian rolled down the window, “Hey man, I’m Daniel” he introduced himself. “Nice to meet you. I’m Kylian” Kylian shook his hand. “Heard a lot about you. We should meet up soon, I’ll message (Y/N)” Daniel suggested. “Yeah sure” Kylian said lastly. “Take care bro” Daniel said before pulling me in for a hug. “Bye Dan. Until next time” I murmured. “Until then. Ciao” he said as his hand rubbed my back before breaking away from our hug.

I got into the car and immediately I could feel the tension in the air. “Hi baby” I smiled as I leaned in to kiss his cheek. He didn’t say anything or react, he just remained stiff. I knew what was coming and I wasn’t ready to face the drama for the umpteenth time. Choosing not to say anything in the car until we got home was the best decision. The second the door shut, he didn’t surprised me by being the one to bring it up. “What was that ?” He raised his voice. “What was what ?” I asked as I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Who even was that Daniel guy ? I was there for only a minute and I could see the way he was looking at you. You both seemed to enjoy that hug a little too much” he said. I scoffed, “Are you being serious right now ?”

“Do I look like I’m joking ?” He yelled annoyed. “You have honestly lost it !” I yelled as I turned my back on him and stormed towards our room. “(Y/N) I’m talking to you !” He yelled for me as he followed me to the room. “How the hell can you say we enjoyed that hug a little too much. Are you trying to call me a cheater ?” I raised my voice as I turned around to face him. “You’re just putting words into my mouth. My point is that if another person had seen you both together, they would think you’re a couple. I don’t want you seeing him again” he said.

“You know what Kylian ? I’m done” I huffed. “What do you mean done ?” He asked baffled. “I mean that I can’t do this anymore. I can’t continue being in a relationship where my own boyfriend doesn’t even trust me or allows me to talk to other guy friends of mine without assuming I’m cheating. I’m living a lie by staying in this relationship. Go find yourself a girlfriend that you can control because I’m not that girl” I said before getting a bag and packing it with my belongings.

“Babe please don’t do this. I swear I’m not trying to control you. I’ll admit that I got jealous, okay ? But please don’t go. I love you so much, what will I do without you ?” he pleaded and tried to stop me from packing but I continued.

“No Kylian ! Today you literally crossed the line, I couldn’t care so much for the other guys you said I need to stop talking to, but the fact that Daniel and I go way back and now you want me to cut off our friendship ? He’s basically apart of my family because his parents and my parents are friends. Kylian…I’m so tired honestly of us going back and forth. It just bothers me that Daniel attempted to be your friend in that minute you met but instead you ignore all of that and insinuate that I cheated ? Get some help because I need a break from your shit…this has gone past jealousy” I said in anger, I didn’t have it in me to cry.

“(Y/N) please. I’ll change okay ? I’ll do better. But please don’t go. Please give me another chance” he begged. “Kylian I gave you way too many chances. I can’t believe how long I’ve dealt with this and didn’t leave sooner” I said as I zipped up my bag. “So that’s it ? You’re just going to throw away a 2 year relationship ?” He asked. “All I know right now is that we need space away from each other. I love you Kylian, I do, but I think it’s best for the both of us” I pressed my lips together as I threw my bag over my shoulder. “So we’re over ?” He asked teary eyed. “I- please don’t make this harder than it already is” my voice cracked as I looked up in hopes that my tears would disappear.

“Babe you can’t give up on us. We’re meant for each other” he said as he grabbed my hands and rubbed small circles at the back of them. “Kylian, consider this a break rather than a break up. We can both wisely use this time to focus on ourselves…if we’re meant to be, we’ll find our way back to each other.”

Those were the last words I’ve said to him face-to-face. I left that night and ended up staying at my parent’s house. They were surprised to see me and were quick to ask where Kylian was, I just lied that he’s travelling for an away game. 2 weeks of staying with my parents raised suspicion and they figured out that something was wrong, my mom especially. I told my mom exactly what happened and luckily she took the hint to not talk about it.

Not a day passed that I didn’t receive a message from Kylian. Countless ‘I love you’ and ‘I miss you’ flooded my phone daily, it wasn’t easy taking this time to focus on myself when he was on my mind all day. Whilst making his message clear, he indirectly would ask for us to talk it out and as much as it hurts, I refused. No point in us getting back together if he’s going to go back to square one.

After about a week, I caved in and started replying back to his messages. Eventually easing in to phone calls and FaceTimes. It’s been 3 weeks since that day I called on a break, today I decided it’s time to meet and talk things out.

He seemed sincere and genuine when we met, of course I couldn’t help but give him another chance. We were meeting for one week as if we were in love all over again and after that one week, we’re back together.

Daniel was in town and he wanted to meet up, I happily accepted his lunch invite and was looking forward to rekindling our friendship. Kylian was at training so I thought I’d get ready in the meantime until he was back.

“Ma chérie !” He called as he entered. “In the room, Ky !” I yelled. He came into the room and whistled behind me. “You look beautiful” he said as he placed a kiss on my neck. “Thank you babe” I blushed. “Where are you going ?” He asked as he walked over to sit at the edge of the bed. “I’m going out for lunch with Daniel” I said casually. “Wait, what !” He asked as he stood up. “Why ? I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t see him ?” He said as he changed his tone. I dropped my mascara on the counter and stood up, “Are you back to this nonsense where I can’t have guy friends ?” I asked as I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Do you not know how the story goes about childhood guy friends falling for their girl friends ?” He stood up to stand arms length away from me. “No, Kylian ! That’s not how the story goes. Do you not know it takes two people to be in love which hello ? I’m obviously not.” I said as I started to grow angry. “(Y/N), you don’t know how a guys mind works” he said as he shut his eyes for a second. “Before I walk out of this relationship one more time, could you care to explain your reasoning behind why I can’t have guy friends ?” I raised a brow. His face softened when he heard me mention walking out.

“Babe please no . I’m sorry” he rushed over to me to hold my hands in his. I pulled my hands away from his grip, “Explain Kylian…I can’t continue entertaining this.” He sighed and dropped his head before mustering up the courage. “I have trust issues because of my ex” he admitted. I was shocked. “Well, what happened ?” I asked curiously.

“I trusted her and was never one to question anything she did until I found out she cheated on me with those guys she called her friends. Soo…I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions and assuming the worst, I was heartbroken and felt betrayed. It’s been hard for me to accept having trust. It’s not you babe, I promise I trust you, I just fear that your guy friends will convince you to leave me and walk away from our relationship. I can’t bare losing you, not again after the break” he said as he got emo. “Aww Ky” I pouted as I pulled him in for a hug. We never left each others embrace for a few minutes until Kylian broke away to kiss my forehead.

“I’m glad I got that off my chest. You deserved to know. I love you so much and I’m sorry for my behaviour. I’m trying to be a better boyfriend for you after our break so please be patient with me” he pouted. “I get it now. Thank you for being honest babe” I gave him a quick peck on his lips. “You can go out with Daniel, I won’t stop you any longer” he sighed. “Look, as your girlfriend, I want to help you through this. Remember Daniel suggested you guys going out ? Well why don’t you join us, I’ll send him a message and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. That way you have an idea of what Daniel is like and you have a peace of mind. Also, it’s not just about trusting Daniel, I would like if you and Daniel could be friends. I mean the man is practically family” I half laughed before sending a message to Daniel. “Shame I feel bad now for hating on the guy” he sighed. “Well what he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him” I winked then sent the message.

#football #football fanfic #football fanfics #football imagine #football fluff #football smut #football angst #football x you #football x reader #football blurb #football drabble #kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian mbappe fluff #kylian mbappe angst #kylian mbappe smut #kylian mbappe imagines #kylian mbappe blurb #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe x you #kylian mbappe oneshot #ricciardoaf oneshots

[somanyratsinthewalls]

A Queen for a King (+18)

Pairing: DonQuijote Doflamingo x Female Reader

WC: 1800

Summary: You were promoted to manage the only brothel in town, but Doflamingo has other plans for you... and who are you to deny a king?

TW: KINDA DUBIOUS CONSENT HERE! Doflamingo is a huge jerk, p in v sex, oral sex f receiving, doggy style, breeding kink, cream pies, unprotected sex, dirty talk, TELL LAW I AM SORRY BUT I HAD TO WRITE THIS TO GET IT OUT OF MY HEAD!

— — 

You pushed through the double wooden doors to the palace without paying any mind to the guards trying to stop you.

“If you care about your life, you’ll leave me be.” You casually remark as you quickly climb the spiral staircase to the young master’s quarters. 

“This asshole…” You mutter to yourself as you approach the top of the stairs you were ascending. You knock and sigh. 

The large door at the top of the tower creaks open. 

You brush past the door and into the throne room in annoyance. 

“Young Master you promised that my girls would receive equitable treatment.” You remark as your long red velvet robe flutters behind you. 

“The girls you’ve sent don’t know what they’re doing.” You hear a low, sinister voice respond. 

“You’ve promoted me to the overseer of The Nest and I’ve sent you my best girls, I don’t know why you’re sending these poor women back to me with unfathomable injuries and insults.” You say as you flop yourself down on the pink loveseat in the throne room and light a cigarette. 

“I know what I’ve done… but I still want you to service me. Is that so difficult for you to understand?” You take a drag of your cigarette as Doflamingo rose from this throne to look at you. 

“You’ve sent 7 of my girls home in tears and 2 of them in body bags… How am I supposed to trust you with them now?” You lean back on the sofa. 

“I don’t want your girls.” Doflamingo approaches his bar cart and pours two heavy glasses of liquor. “I want you.” 

“I am no longer for sale since my promotion. You said it yourself.” You receive the cocktail from the much larger, pink coat clad man and sat back in your chair. 

“I said you no longer have to service clients… I am not a client, I am your king.” Doflamingo smirked as he took a sip of his drink. “You are mine, and I will accept nothing less.” The man strides away from you and takes a seat on his throne.

“I control The Nest now. I can provide you with any women or any desire that floats your interest. All you have to do is-“

“No. I will not have the other girls. I will have you.” Doflamingo smiles wickedly. 

You sigh. 

You glide across the room towards the Young Master.

“You may be the king of Dressrosa and the king of getting whatever you want, but I was assigned to oversee The Nest and I have done my job, Young Master. You cannot malign me for doing my duty.” You say as you square your shoulders. You tried too hard not to let your fear seep through, this man could end your life in a second but you were here in his throne room trying to make him squirm. 

“You’ve done your job, y/n… but unfortunately for you I’ve taken a liking to you and you will belong to me… mind, body and soul…”

You take a drag of your cigarette and sigh. 

“So I’m suck here?” You ask 

“Stuck? Love, it’s so much nicer than that. You don’t miss taking me?” Doflamingo says as he brushes off his coat and shirt. He swoops down to his knees and meets you at your level, lounging on the pink loveseat. You chuckle as he reaches your face level. 

“I can find someone to appease you, Young Master.” You put your hand on his massive wrist. 

“No.” 

You look up and look into your captor’s sunglasses covered eyes. 

“No one will ever touch you again. Only me. Or they’ll die. Not instantly, but in the worst way anyone could ever imagine.” Doflamingo grabs your cheek and forces you to face him. 

“I must insist that my girls-“

“NO!” He bellows. 

You tremble in fear. 

“Doffy….” You try to calm him and stroke his bicep. 

“No one touches you again… you’re mine…” Doflamingo pulls you against him and grinds your body onto his pelvis. 

“Doffy I can’t do this anymore…” You huff out quietly as you try not to enjoy the feeling of his massive hard on grinding against your sensitive sex. 

“You can…. You can, my love….. just let me show you…” Doffy picks you up and throws you against his chair and unties your robe, then pushes your panties down past your ankles. 

“Doffyyy…” You cry out and buck your hips up into the air as he pulls back. “If I agree to this arrangement… you have to leave my girls alone…” You choke out.

“Agree? Haha oh sweetheart you have no choice. I am your king and you’ll do as I say. I don’t want anything to do with those whores anyway. They don’t deserve to even be in my presence.” Doffy pulls your thighs apart forcefully, exposing your naked sex to him. 

“Those girls are nothing compared to you…” He continues. “Their filthy holes could never satisfy me the way yours do.” He strokes his huge hands up and down your thighs as he gets to his knees between your legs. He notices your pussy involuntarily clench at his words. “Now, I’m going to have my fill of this wet little cunt and you’re going to take it like a good slut. My good slut.”

“Yes, Young Master…” You give in. 

Doflamingo immediately dives in and bullies that damned long tongue deep into your waiting hole. You cry out and throw you head back. 

Lewd slurping noises echo off the stone walls of the throne room while you grip your king’s blonde hair for dear life. He pulls his tongue out of you to flick it harshly across your clit, making you whine. 

“Such a perfect pussy, so sweet… always so sweet for me…” He lowers his head again and continues bringing you closer and closer to the precipice of pleasure. You hated how good he was at this, being such an evil man, but your body was betraying you. With each deep probe of his tongue inside your walls and nudge of his nose on your clit, the coil in your lower tummy threatened to snap. 

“Shit, Doffy! I’m gonna cum, fuck!” You cry out. 

He pulls away. 

“Ask properly, you know how.” He demands. 

“Fuck fuck fuck, please let me cum I’m so close! Please!” You plead as you look down at him between your messy thighs, his lips were shiny with your copious amounts of slick. He smirks. 

“Cum then, my love.” He takes your clit between his lips and sucks harshly. 

“Ah!” You scream and release all over your sadistic lover’s face. He was being kind so far, clearly thrilled that you’ve agreed to his new terms. 

Doflamingo rises to his feet and grips your jaw in his massive palm and forces you to look up at him. 

“What do you say?” He says as he looms over you. 

“Thank you…” You breath out, still coming down from your high. 

“Good pet. Now get up, and bend that tight little ass over the arm here for me.” Doflamingo lets go of your jaw and waits for you to rise to your feet, undoing his pants in the process. You shakily stand and do as you're told, shedding your robe off your arms and taking your place bent over the arm of his throne, presenting yourself to him. 

You gasp as you feel the huge head of his cock tease your soaked opening. 

“Ready, darling?” You could hear the smirk in his voice. 

“Yes- AH!” You yelp loudly as he pushes into you forcefully and quickly. His cock was bigger than anything else you’ve ever had by far, but he’s taken you so many times now that you knew how to bear the stretch. 

“Shit!” Your eyes roll in the back of your head. 

“See this is why you’re my favorite…” Doffy begins to thrust into you harshly, not giving you any time to adjust. “Didn’t even need to open you up… this pussy was made for me… taking me so well…” His hands were so big they almost wrapped completely around your waist as he pulled you back and forth onto his cock. 

“Do! Ffy! S-slow! Down!” You try to plead with him. You were being bounced forward with each powerful slam of his hips hitting your ass and thighs. 

“No I don’t think I will!” Your king cackles from behind you as he delivers a hard spank to your right cheek. You scream in both pain and pleasure. He slaps your ass a few more times and continues his brutal assault on your sex. Your head was swimming and you could barely even hear the filthy, disgusting things that Doflamingo was spewing from behind you. 

“Oh, Doffy!” You cry out his name as he angles your hips to further access your G-spot with every stroke. His name felt like poison on your tongue but you were so lost in pleasure that it didn’t matter to you anymore. The world melted around you and the only thing you could feel was his hot breath on your back and the battering of his giant cock inside you. 

Suddenly you’re pulled up by your hair and your back was against Doflamingo’s huge exposed chest. 

“Going to cum again, little slut? Beg for it. Beg your king to make you cum.” He growls into your ear while gripping your scalp tightly. You whine. 

“Please! Please Doffy! Wanna cum so bad! Please!” Sweat drips from your neck down the valley of your breasts as you pant and beg to finish. 

“Cum. Do it now.” He reaches down and pinches your clit without faltering in his thrusts. 

You unravel immediately and squirt all over the throne beneath you. Your cunt spasms and you moan out with each wave of your orgasm wracking your body. Doflamingo releases your hair and you fall forward. 

“So fucking messy, just the way I like it!” Doffy laughs and grips your hips tightly, approaching his own climax. “I’m going to breed this cunt and keep you here with me forever, my sweet love.” 

“Doffy, wait! Shit!” You try to protest but it was no use. He was already groaning loudly and shooting rope after rope of thick cum into your womb, spilling out around his cock stretching your hole. With a final smack to your ass, Doflamingo pulls out of you and picks you up. He sits on his throne and pulls you onto his lap, still leaking his cum onto his thigh. 

“I-I have to get back to work, Young Master…” You try to wiggle out of his grip. 

“No, I don’t think you do. Not anymore.” He tightens his hold on you and smirks. 

“But… the arrangement… you said…” You look up at him. 

“Fuck what I said. You’ll be my queen.” 

xx

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece anime #one piece smut #one piece fandom #one piece netflix #one piece fanart #one piece live action #donquixote doflamingo #donquixote family #op doflamingo #doflamingo #doflamingo fanart #doflamingo x reader #doflamingo one piece #one piece fanfic

[annabelinlove]

No Games (pt.2)

Pairing: Wolfstar x reader (Sirius Black x Remus Lupin x Reader)

Summary: The aftermath of the attack

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: angst, past description on violence, non sexual nudity, language, English isn’t my first language, no use of Y/n, Peter doesn’t exist

Readers note: You wanted part 2, so here it is! I’m sorry for the rushed ending but i have another thing planned and i really wanted to post this on. Lmk if you like it. Read part 1, if you haven’t already and checkout my masterlist. Every kind word is appreciated. Enjoy!

Pt. 1

Masterlist

You’ve spent the whole week at the infirmary and not even for a second were you alone. You had no idea how they did it, but your friends and boyfriends kept your company even thought you were sure they had classes they ought to attend. Whenever you tried to bring it up, they just shushed you and told you it was dealt with. You didn’t know what that was supposed to mean and weren’t even sure if it really was dealt with, but you were glad for the company so you decided to let it go. Regulus himself sent you a card telling you he hoped you’ll recover soon but you were yet to talk to him. You brought it up carefully when you were alone with Sirius, you knew his family was a sensitive topic for him.

“Have you talked to Regulus?” You asked, looking at your beautiful boyfriend who was working on his Herbology essay, his legs on your bed. He looked up from his work and smiled gently.

“Yeah, we met yesterday at the Tower, talked the whole night. That reminds me, he wishes you the best but said he’ll talk to you when you’re out of here, if you’re still up for it.”

He didn’t tell you the details of their conversation, but the small smile present on fis handsome face told you everything you needed to know, so you didn’t bring it up again. You’ve received many get well soon cards, some of them from students you didn’t even know at it warmed your heart. Even Marlene and Mary came to visit you. The whole day you spent with your friends and Madam Pomfrey and at the night, you always shared the bed with your boyfriends, who left in the morning to go to classes but still came back after few hours and this cycle repeated itself for the whole time you were in the hospital wing. It made you forget about the main reason you were even here and considering all odds, you were quite happy in your bubble. When Sunday came, Poppy told you that you were free to go but take it easy, which meant no quidditch and pranks, and to come back Monday evening for her to check you up again. Most of your wounds were healed and the bruises were barely visible, but still, some of them took longer to heal. One wound in particular, the one on your side, was pretty nasty and sometimes still bled a bit. It was sure to say you were glad to finally leave the infirmary.

“You’re ready, pet?” Asked Sirius as he took your bad, with all the cards and sweets that people sent you in his hands, and watched Remus, who was tying up your shoes. You told him you were perfectly fine to do it yourself, but he just waved his hand and kneeled in front of you. Why would you when I can? was his only response.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” You smiled at him and hopped off the bed, taking Remus’s hand as all three of you left the hospital wing. But as soon as you walked down the corridor to your common room, the reality hit you and you stopped to take a deep breath. What if it happens again? What if they pick on someone else? What would happen if Regulus hadn’t come? I’d probably die. The boys must have noticed your sudden panic and stopped as well. Siris stood in front of you and put his hands on your cheeks to make you look up at him. His gaze was soft and full of love.

“I know it’s scary right now, but nothing like that is ever gonna happen again, do you trust me? Do you trust us to protect you?” He asked softly, not breaking eye contact so you knew he was serious. Remus squeezed your hand, to reassure you in your own way. Your timid nod didn’t seem to please them.

“Words, angel. Do you trust us to protect you?” Remus prodded and your eyes shifted to his honey ones.

“I do, with my life.” You responded verbally now, which seemed to please them, as you all continued walking to the portrait, one boy at either of your side. Once in the common room, all of your friends were already there a big barel welcome back hung from the chandelier and you genuinely smiled as they all gave you a big and long hug.

“Now, now, don’t smother our girl.” Remus protectively pulled you to sit on his lap as he sat on the couch and buried his face into your neck, inhaling your scent. “She must be used to it, dating the two of you.” James stuck his tongue out at him playfully and they started to bicker. You felt like you were finally home. With your friends all around you, in the middle of the loves of your life, both of them touching you at all times, you were happy. This is where I belong, you thought. The rest of the day was spent talking, laughing and playing wizarding chess or exploding snap.

“Alright, its time for dinner kids, lets go.” Lily decided, standing up and ordering everybody around like the mum of the group. Your whole body seemed to freeze at that. The thought of leaving you little bubble of happiness to go to the Great Hall was more then unsettling for you.

“Go without us, we’ll just hang in here. Would you mind bringing us something?” Remus spoke up, obviously noticing your sudden anxious state. You both loved and hated how they could read you and knew you like the back of their hands. Nothing would get past them. James nodded before running after Marlene, probably to discuss the upcoming quidditch match. Lily sent you an understanding smile before waving at you and leaving the common room.

“Thanks, I’m just not ready to face them, yet.” You uttered, feeling embarrassed.

“Hey, you don’t have to explain yourself to us. Anything to make you feel the most comfortable, always.” Sirius was quick to argue and attacked your face with small, wet kisses. You laughed as you tried to get away from him. However, during your wiggling around, you accidentally pushed on your sore side and a sharp pain ran through your body. You let out a groan and the boy stopped quickly and distanced himself from you.

“Hey, are you okay? I’m so sorry if I hurt you, darling.” He was quick to speak, looking you up and down to spot any wound reopening and bleeding. You placed your hand on his cheek and smiled.

“It’s okay, just my stupid side. You didn’t do anything, I must have moved wrong or something. It’s fine.” You tried to assure him, but he still looked worried. Remus decided to step in and stood up, holding his hand out for you to take.

“Why don’t we go back to our dorm, hm? You could take a warm bath and relax as we wait for James to bring us something to eat. Then we can cuddle, how does that sound, my loves?” The idea of hot bath has already calmed you and you were quick to take his hand and get up. “Sounds like heaven.” You gave him a kiss and you all went to your dorm.

Well, it was their dorm, but you spent all of your time there anyway. You had your things there and to be honest, you couldn’t remember the last time you slept with the girls in your own dorm. James didn’t mind and claimed he was happy to have someone who’d help him deal with the two idiots. Once inside, Remus drew you a warm bath and even added some bubbles for you. It was nothing like the prefect bathroom, where you sometimes sneaked in with you boyfriends, but at that moment, it was perfect. You slowly undressed, with Sirius helping you, and softly kissing every new scar and unhealed bruise. You daren’t look into the mirror, terrified what you’d see, but right then and there, you felt loved, bare in front of your boys who stared at you with nothing but love in their eyes. Sirius helped you into the bathtub and you let out a content sigh when you sank into the hot water. Remus kissed your forehead and took Sirius’s hand, as they went to leave you alone.

“Stay.” You whispered, giving them your best puppy eyes, that Sirius taught you. Without another word, they both sat next to your bathtub, and you were finally able to relax, feeling every single muscle loosening after what felt like ages. You were all silent as Remus laid his hands on the edge of the tub and rested his hands on top of them, Sirius resting his head on his shoulder. You had no idea how much time has passed, all of you just enjoying the quiet time together, but it was interrupted by James, who poked his head inside the bathroom.

“Y’all good?” At the disturbance, Sirius quickly threw a bottle of shampoo on his head.

“Oi! Get out and stop ogling my naked girlfriend!” He shouted at his friend who put up his hands in surrender. James couldn’t have seen anything, as you were covered in bubbles but your boyfriend’s protectiveness mage you laugh a little.

“It ain’t nothing I haven’t seen before.” He joked before quickly shutting the door as Sirius got up with the intention to punch him. You laughed at that, remembering the few times when you walked out of the bathroom naked, thinking you were alone in the dorm, with James sitting on his bed or him walking into the bathroom when you were showering. Not to mention that all of your friends went skinny dipping into the Black Lake.

“I’m kidding, sorry! Just wanted to know if you’re okay since you’ve been silent for the whole 20 minutes I’ve been here.” He said behind the closed door. At that, Remus put his hand into the bath which has gotten cold already. “Alright, let’s get you out, the water is freezing and you need to eat something.”

Sirius washed your hair as Remus went to get some clothes for you as well as a new bandage and some ointment. After drying you up, he carefully rubbed in on the wounds and bruises as well as some pink scars. You mustered up the courage to look at yourself in the mirror and sucked in a breath. You looked much worse than you thought. Even after almost a full week of being at the infirmary, unhealed scratches could be seen all over your body, numerous of bruises and scars, some bigger then other, keeping them company. Your cheeks were hollowed, and you had dark circles under your eyes. You also looked thinner. Sirius quickly stepped in front of you when he saw the disgusted look you gave yourself in the mirror.

“Hey,” he said as he put some hair behind your ear, “you’re beautiful.”

The smile you gave him was genuine and you stopped thinking about it as he kissed you passionately. They dressed you in some sweatpants and shirt, none of which were yours. When you emerged from the bathroom, you realized that James has already prepared the food on Sirius’s bed, which was the biggest of them all, thanks to a single spell, since the three of you slept on it every single night. You settled comfortably on the bed, under the covers with the boys around you and contently started eating.

“Thank you, Jamie.” You thanked him with a mouth full of mashed potatoes. You didn’t even realize how hungry you were, but it was really no surprise since Poppy fed you mostly soups from various of herbs to help you heal.

“Anytime, sunshine.” He winked at you and started a calm conversation. Mostly between the boys, since you were too busy eating. After dinner, Sirius sat behind you and without a word started to braid your still wet hair. It was your routine, doing each others hair, sometimes Remus’ as well, if he had them long enough. When he was done, you all bid good night to James and laid on the bed.

“Would you read to us Moony?” Sirius asked sweetly, pulling you closer, careful not to hurt you in any way. Remus pulled out his book, The Lord of the Rings, and his calm voice filled the silence. You nuzzled yourself closer to him and quickly fell asleep, his voice fading away in the background.

You were running away from someone, you didn’t know who, but knew they were dangerous. You were in some dark place, when someone pushed you to the ground.

“This is what you fucking deserve, filthy bitch!” The unknown person spat at you as he hit you, pain erupting immediately all over your face. You were suddenly on the floor and someone was kicking you over and over again. Your hands tied so you wouldn’t be able to protect yourself. You screamed for help but an evil laugh was the only thing heard. “Shh, we’re just playing.” And another blow, now into your head. You felt like you were under water and running out of air, not being able to breathe.

“Hey, hey, wake up. It’s okay.”

Unknown hands shook you, but you saw only silhouettes, and green flashes of lights. Suddenly, you had a wand at your neck. You tried to pull away, but couldn’t. The wand suddenly slashed your throat.

“C’mon, wake up darling.”

You sat up quickly in your bed, gasping for breath as your hands flew to your throat. You’re safe, your in your dorm with your boys. It was only a dream. You were shaking like a leaf, only now just realizing that someone was talking to you.

“Breath for me, angel. It’s okay, we’re here. You’re here, you’re in our dorm, with me and Moony, you’re safe. Just keep on breathing for me, please.” You concentrated on Sirius’ words, slowly calming your breath.

“I’m gonna touch you, is that okay, my darling?” Remus said in his soft tone, you weren’t able to speak so you tried to nod, but it wasn’t enough for the boys.

“Please, use your words. I know it’s hard, but try, pet.” You croaked a yes, which seemed to satisfy him and he gently wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a gentle, yet firm embrace. Sirius handed you a glass of water you didn’t even see him get it. You gulped the water like your life depended on it.

“It was just a bad dream, my love. You’re okay.” You were able to calm down, but was still shaking lightly in Remus’ arms.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He whispered as he kept on rubbing small circles on your back. You took a deep breath, trying to remember the dream but it was all hazy.

“I-I was in some dark room or something and someone kept on hurting me. And then-then..” you were interrupted by your own sobs but tried to pull it together to finish “then a wand slashed my throat and I couldn’t breathe.” You cried into his shoulder. Sirius took your hand in is and placed it where your heart is.

“Do you feel that?” He patiently waited for you to nod before continuing, “that’s your heart and it’s beating. It means you’re alive and breathing, my love. It was just a nightmare. Take a deep breath, because you can, baby. It’s okay.”

You felt your heartbeat and started to slow down your breathing, the shaking stopped as did the tears. You pulled out of Remus’ hug and looked at them sheepishly.

“I’m sorry for waking you up.” You just now noticed the darkness of the room and heard James’ loud snores. You swore he would sleep through an earthquake.

“You have nothing to apologize for, angel. We knew the nightmares would come sooner or later.” Remus soothed your worry but his words confused you and you looked at him with furrowed brows.

“Well, at the infirmary, Poppy gave you a sleeping draught every night so you could sleep peacefully, but you didn’t take any tonight. I was just kinda counting on it. It makes sense after what happened.” You froze at his words, you didn’t even think about that.

“Oh, I’ll go and get it tomorrow then.” You sighed, fatigued overtaking of your body.

“No, pet. I know its hard and the nightmares are terrible. Trust me, I know, but you can’t take it for such a long time, it could really mess you up.” Sirius looked at you apologetic, feeling bad for crushing your vision for peaceful sleep.

Your whole face fell down and you looked close to tears again. “But I don’t wanna have a nightmare every night.” You uttered, looking at your hands, picking at your nails.

“And you won’t! Me and Pads will do everything in our power to help you with them, just not through medications, okay?” Remus was quick to reassure you, taking your hand in his so you would stop picking at your nails before they started to bleed. You were too tired to fight with them, so you sighed a small yes and let them lay you on the bed again, squeezed in between them.

“Moony’s gonna read to us again, until you fall asleep, okay?” Sirius said and kissed your nose, but you were quick to protest. “No, I don’t want to keep you up for no reason, you shouldn’t stay away just because I can’t sleep.”

Remus gave you almost a bored look but still looked at you lovingly. “Hey, none of that, darling. Anything to help you. Plus, I ended at quite an interesting chapter, so I’m curious what’s gonna happen next.” And with that, he picked up the book and started to read, just like few hours ago. And just like few hours ago, you feel asleep.

The next time you woke up, it was by Sirius who was leaving wet kisses all over your face. “Wakey, wakey. We need to get ready for classes.” He whispered but still continued to kiss your face. It was Remus, who ushered both of you to the bathroom to clean up (and redress your wounds, of course) and soon enough, you were on your way to the Great Hall for breakfast with your friends.

Everybody was chatting with you the whole time, to help you ease your nervousness, and you were immensely grateful for them all. You stopped in front of the huge door to the Hall, but before you could start to think too much about things, Remus took your hand and Sirius screamed your name to gain your attention.

“Look, look! This is how to make someone your peasant.” And before you, or anyone really, processed his words, he jumped on James’ back, held tight with one hand, the other high in the air as he started screaming loudly. “Go, my slave. Take me to my fine breakfast and DO NOT DROP ME!”

James wasn’t even complaining, pretty used to his theatrics and he ran straight to their places, making a huge scene with Sirius. All of them laughed at their silliness and before you knew it, you were sat at the table, with your back to the Slytherins, and started to eat. All of your friends were distracting you with jokes and you were smiling the whole time. Sirius was still ordering James around and he did everything the long haired boy asked.

“Pass me the juice.”

“Of course, my lord. Is there anything else I could aide you with? Your wish is my command.”

After breakfast, Remus took your backpack and you walked hand in hand to your class. Sirius was, of course, riding on James’ back to the class.You were thankful that you shared Charms, your first class, with your boyfriends, as well as Lily. The worst part was, that the Slytherins were taking Charms as well. Sirius got off James’ back before the classroom and looked you deep in the eyes.

“Listen, and listen to me closely, pet. Me and Remmy are gonna be with you the whole time. There’s not gonna be a second when one of us isn’t close to you, okay? It’s gonna be okay, you’ll be fine and we’ll be always by your side.” He reassured you and you smiled at his thoughtfulness to calm you down. You took a deep breath and Remus squeezed your hand in support. You nodded that you were ready and you entered the classroom. You didn’t look around, your gaze set on your desk. Sirius and Remus were on both your sides, squashing you in between them.

Remus still hasn’t let go of your hand as you squeezed it tightly when you felt the hairs on your neck rising. Snape and Mulicber were here. You didn’t dare to move a muscle, your body in a trance, too scared to even breathe. Both of your boys noticed and they tried to talk to you and joked around to make you smile, but you weren’t able to concentrate on them. You didn’t even notice when the class started, nor did you registered that it has finished. You could feel their eyes on you, the whole time. You knew that Snape was staring at the back of your head, his eyes sending daggers your way, but you were too afraid to look back. To look at him, them.

Sirius had to nudge you that the class was over and you had to go to the other one. You felt like you were sleepwalking as they took your things and led you out of the classroom. But you froze in your tracks as you heard the cold laugh behind you. You knew it was Mulciber.

“Well, well, well. Surprised to see you at school and not the graveyard.” He snickered but before you could do as much as blink, you heard a loud bang from behind you. You turned ground quickly, waiting for some king of danger coming your way, but were met with Sirius pinning him to the wall, his wand at his neck and hand holding his chest so he couldn’t move.

You saw as Snape took out his wand, but Remus casted a quick Expelliarmus and his wand flew out of his hand and his reach. He was stood protectively in front of you, his wand aimed at Snape as Sirius hold Mulciber. You didn’t even know how any of that happened, if was all too quick.

“Say another word to her, I dare you. Let’s see who will be buried six feet under.” Sirius seethed, his voice low and dangerous. You’ve never heard him use this tone.

“You’ve got bodyguards now, heh?” Snivellus snickered at you but not moving an inch. Before any of you could say or do anything, Lily appeared out of thin air and hit him square in the face. Snape fell to the ground, holding his bleeding nose and looking up at her in surprise.

“If you ever come close to her, I will hurt you. And I fucking mean it, Severus. I don’t know what happened to you but it gives you no right to act like an asshole. You are nothing but a fucking scam and dirt. Don’t come close to her or any of us, never again.” She told him, her voice cold and face blank of any emotions. You have never heard Lily use so many swear words in your life, let alone in one sentence.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Mulciber trying to get out of Sirius’ gasp and Remus was ready to send some hex his way, but you stopped him as you laid your slightly shaking hand on his shoulder.

“Wait.” You said quietly but strongly. He stopped and looked at you, his wand still aiming at his enemy.

“Don’t be like them. Let them go, karma will get them soon and better then us.” I said loudly, for all of them to hear me. Remus’ gaze softened but his wand still raised high.

You could hear Sirius growl, not moving an inch, so you walked up to him and took his hand with his wand an out it down. He looked unsure, but wasn’t fighting your touch. You looked deep inside Mulciber’s eyes and when he open his mouth to say something, you spat at him. You could hear Lily gasp, but you didn’t care as you turned around and walked away with your head held high.Remus, Lily and Sirius quickly caught up with you, your raven boyfriends taking your waist and spinning you in the air.

“That’s my fucking girl! You shoved them who has the power!” He hollered, and you laughed. When he set you down, both he and Remus hugged you tightly and you felt the weight lifting off your shoulders.

“That was brilliant, my sweet girl. I’m so so proud of you.” Remus beamed with pride, kissing the top of your head. “I could never do it without you. Thank you, for everything.” You squeezed their arms and quickly went to hug Lily as well.

“That must have been hard for you, I know you two used to be close.” You whispered into her ears. She sighed and let you go, looking into your eyes.

“Yeah, used to. Before he turned out to be such a prick. But I won’t hesitate to protect you from him, or anyone else, no matter what.” She gave you a kind and sincere smile and you knew she meant it.

As you walked down the corridor, with Sirius and Remus nonstop praising you, you felt lighter. You knew it wasn’t the end. The wounds were yet to be healed, the physical ones as well as emotional ones, and the war was far from the end, but you knew you could do it.

With your boyfriends and friends by your side, you were unstoppable.

——————-

Tag list: @quackitysdrugdealer @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @oweninadaydream @noodlesareokah @wings-of-tranquility @oweninadaydream @leafpagesingfan

#marauders era #harry potter #marauders fluff #marauders x y/n #poly!marauders x reader #sirius black x you #the marauders #fluff #marauders x reader #Wolfstar x reader #wolfstar x you #angst #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #remus x sirius x reader #angst to fluff #wolfstar angst #hurt to comfort #poly!marauders #poly!marauders fluff

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part five —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3.5k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. lowkey cannibalism implication. reader menstruates. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn. enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: I’m really going for the slow burn sorry

The days are difficult to keep track of.

You don’t have a calendar. Instead, you begin making mental markers of events in your head. 29 days since you left your old camp. 22 days since Ghost nearly killed you. 10 days since your face became the potential meal for another human. 

10 days since Blue disobeyed her skull-faced father. 

He hasn’t sent you away yet. You figure the two of you are in the clear. Still, you have found yourself avoiding his dark stare even more than before. 

“Don’t worry,” Blue had told you the second night she came to gently anoint your arm. “I was careful about it. I memorized the way the tube was in the kit, and I’m putting it back exaaaactly the same. I used to sneak some extra Nutella from our storage and Ghost only caught me in the beginning. I’ve gotten better at sneaking past him, okay?”

All you could do was cling to the little piece of trust you shared with her. Ten days later, the memory of it has now congealed into a thick, baby-pink scar, just like the one beneath your ribs. The pain has softened to tenderness. You used your knife to clip off the stitches. 

This morning, the usual soft-tailed alarm wakes you up. A bright grin hovers above your head. 

“Special day today,” Blue announces. Lazily, you rub your eyes. Yesterday was the first day you managed to kill a deer. You hung the meat up over a fire to smoke it for preservation. For once, the feeling of a stuffed stomach sang you into a deep sleep.

“What?” you ask, blinking away your slumber as you touch a hand over your abdomen. You can still feel where last night’s dinner is nestled.  

“It’s my birthday,” she says. Grim flutters over your arm as she sits down beside you. Naturally, your legs move over to allow just the right amount of space for her. You’ve grown used to this guest in your shed. 

“Your birthday?” You sit up. “What day is it today?” 

“February 19th,” she recites. Of course. Ghost probably keeps track. 

Then, her hand slips something into your palm. Something small, hard, and wrapped in plastic. You flicker your gaze to the smuggled good— a little sweet. When you look back at her, she sheepishly reveals to you the other three she has in her pocket. 

“I’m only allowed to have four on my birthday,” she explains. “Thought you would want one to celebrate.” 

“Thanks.” Your lips etch up at the corner. “Happy birthday.” 

Even tiny offerings like this can make you nervous. They aren’t nearly as lucrative or important as antiseptic. In the hall where their bedroom doors and the bathroom are, you’ve spotted a fourth door at the end where they dip in and out for stored food. They have nonperishables. Their rabbits will always breed. Ghost can always hunt. But pharmacies won’t restock their shelves. 

Still, you instinctively crane your head forward to peek out the door of your shed, searching for her father’s shadow.

Blue notices. 

“He’s making breakfast. Don’t worry.” Then, under her breath, she adds: “Besides... it is mine to give if I want to."

You pop it in your mouth. 

“Fuck— wow,” you sputter, and Blue giggles. The sugary taste is even stranger than the fullness in your gut. You can’t remember the last time you ate anything that wasn’t stale, foraged, or killed. 

Here in the small shed, the two of you suck on your candies for a quiet moment before breakfast. The pretty snow outside has melted, but the Northern air remains cold and bleak. Bare soil and scattered twigs lay under your boots when you finally head to the cabin. 

Despite your fat dinner from the night before, you indulge in an equally heavy breakfast of smoked venison. Your body still has some catching up to do. Ghost and Blue’s breakfast consists of Grim’s sister, apparently. She gives at least three apologies to him for it.

You’re not sure what Ghost manages for Blue’s birthday. You can’t recall how you celebrated that last birthday of yours - the one before the world ended. You never bothered celebrating anymore of them after that even though Paul used to keep his own calendar going. It seemed pointless. When your nephew was still alive, you tried putting effort into his. You’d find a twig for each of his years and stick them in the ground for him to blow the flames off of. You would make a little crown for him out of flowers. It was enough to make his eyes light up, even if only for a day.

But he died at age seven. Then, there were no more birthdays celebrated. 

To your surprise, Ghost fishes something out of his pocket after breakfast. Metal that clanks and sings. Car keys.

So it really is a vehicle back there?

“C’mon, kid. Get your coat.” 

“She’s coming, too, right?” Blue’s eyes flicker to you as she stands from the table. 

Come where? 

The masked joints of Ghost’s jaw clench with a spark of irritation. Avoiding him has been easy. He usually doesn’t talk to you, anyway. Your interactions have been kept to asking him for rags and soap to bathe with and him watching you braid Blue’s hair.

But now he gives you a brief stare and mumbles plainly, “Thought we might just put her in the trench while we’re gone.”

An audible, sharp breath floods your ribs.

“He doesn’t mean that,” Blue is quick to assure you with an uneasy smile before she gives him a pointed look. “It is my birthday and I am inviting her, okay?”

This is one where Ghost doesn’t put up a fight. 

So it is today that you see what resides under the tarp behind their cabin. Ghost lifts it back to reveal a faded-black pickup truck. Your irritation from the sight only swells when you see that there is a kayak in the truck bed. Another part of his emergency plan, maybe? What doesn't he have?

Ghost opens the door, lowers the front seat, and sends you to the back. Blue gets the passenger side. 

As her father wraps around the hood to get in, Blue looks over the seat and chimes, “Cool, huh?” You nod. “It’s only for emergencies, you know. But we go for little drives sometimes so it doesn’t stop working. Right, Ghost?” 

He hums a low response as he sits in front of the wheel. 

You touch your hands over the cracked leather seat beneath you. The inside smells like faded bourbon and ash. You notice an old cigarette tray in the front. This feels like a snapshot of Ghost’s old life, perhaps the one outside of the military. Maybe whatever version of him used to drive this car actually used his real name and wore an exposed face. Maybe he used to put an infant-version of Blue in a carseat in the back. For the first time, a small wonder of who else could have sat in here with the two of them - the parent that is missing - touches your brain, but you are quick to swallow it. That history isn’t worth the risk that could come from asking about it.

The engine awakens with a few coughs and you notice that the reader on the dash indicates that the fuel is just below full. What you are finally willing to pry about forms as a question under your breath.

“How did you get all this?”

Dark eyes flick to meet your gaze in the rear-view mirror. Swallowing, you hold his stare for only a moment before Blue is the one to answer you. 

“Ghost knew about everything before the rest of the world,” she explains, furrowing her brows. “I thought I told you that already.” 

“What?”

“You know,” she waves a hand around, “Military? Special Air Service? He knew.”

You didn’t even think of that. The rest of you knew nothing and suffered. Ghost knew ahead of time and could prepare. 

He stops her from continuing by giving a gentle nudge to her shoulder. “Gonna pick out the music or am I doing it?” 

You shake away the thoughts. Your ears perk up. Music?

“No.” Blue instantly flies her hands to the glove compartment where a small stash of CDs slips out. “I’m picking! It’s my birthday.” 

It is almost dizzying, how unfamiliar this is to you. Adrenaline, hunger, grief— you understand these well. Listening to the CD that Blue pops in the tray as Ghost starts driving? This is weird. You don’t know what it is you feel. Loud drums and sharp guitars fill your ears along with the hum of the truck. The tires slowly snap over twigs on the ground. Blue merrily sings - screams, even - along to the song. Can you remember it? You search through the crevices of your brain. Of course. Nirvana.

It is a short drive. 

Ghost’s gloved hand lazily steers the wheel through a routine path in the trees. He must follow the same one every time they do this. Blue rolls down the window and sticks her head out so the light wind can dance with her hair.

She feels safer to look at. She always does. She is the one who wants you here; he probably brought you only because he doesn’t trust you alone at their camp. So your eyes settle on Blue. Your fingers thoughtlessly slip under the sleeve of your shirt and pick at the healed scar on your arm. You watch her beam and act like the child she is. You listen to the music. You don’t know when you will ever get the chance to again.

The drive only lasts two songs. Ghost may have to get the car going a bit, but he is not willing to waste precious fuel. He goes in a few circles before driving to the pond. He helps Blue out. He almost forgets to lower the seat for you. Blue has to remind him with a hissed "Dad" and a tug on his hand. 

The pond is quiet and all liquid now. There hasn’t been another growling visitor here since the one Ghost killed. You’re not sure what he did with the corpse of the man, but it was gone shortly after that day. 

Ghost lifts Blue up into the truck bed, right next to the kayak. You find a tree stump to sit on a few paces away. He slips out two cans from his pockets— you squint and make out tuna and peaches. They must be favorites of hers saved for her birthday because she eats them all by herself. 

“Eleven, huh?” Ghost leans against the side of the truck as she snacks. He pretends you aren’t there. He ruffles her hair. “Big year, kid. Feel different?”

“Not yet,” she says with her mouth full. Her porcelain cheeks flush as she looks at him. “Did you feel different at eleven?”

“Can’t remember,” Ghost mutters lowly, but you can hear him. You try not to look. “Long time ago.”

"Soooo long ago, huh?" she smirks. "Old man."

"Come off it," he says, but amusement hides under the gravel of his voice. "Don't call me that."

"Why?" she pokes further. There is room for it here. He is not scolding. Her voice turns hushed. "Do I have to respect my elders?"

"Bloody fuckin' hell," he groans.

He makes a move to take away her canned peaches. Blue holds it up and scoots away. Ghost could still get it if he wanted. He's not really trying.

You decide to look at the dirt before either of them catches your staring, but when their bickering ceases, Blue points a question in your direction.

“Hey... Do you remember being eleven?”

You lift your head up, suddenly thrown off. You feel two sets of eyes on you now as your brain searches for some answer, knowing well that it is one Ghost will hear.

You can barely remember what Nirvana sounds like. Age eleven? The memories are stored in fragments under all the mud. Your old school. Your sister. Your friends. That house in Norbury. The yard where you stopped playing in the dirt because you suddenly grew interested in boys, instead. You try to fit all the pieces together, but it doesn't feel like you who lived through it all.

“I remember…” you rub one hand over the dry knuckles of the other and fight the brief moisture that threatens your eyes. You are not willing for Ghost to see a tear slip.

“I do remember feeling different.”

That is all you say.

After some more of their banter and the quick drive back to camp, Blue stands up against the tree she likes to play in. You never noticed until now, but there are little knife marks in the bark— five of them. Ghost adds another. It is quite a bit higher than the previous year’s. 

Along with her dinner that night, she sucks on the last two of her candies. You try to be present as she talks about the memories from her past five birthdays— all basically the same as today. She doesn’t mention any of the ones from her previous life.

But your mind drifts as you listen.

You keep thinking about Ghost’s truck. You think of all he has— their medicine, changes of clothes, guns and ammo. You don’t have these things. At your old camp, you had the bare necessities. Paul managed to get the most commonly-used antibiotics and some alcohol to clean wounds. But you didn’t have time to grab any of it during your escape.

You don’t know how long you will be here and you don’t know what the future looks like for you, but you know you can’t risk Blue sneaking you more medicine. Ghost might not notice a little ointment missing from a tube, but too much and he will. God forbid you ever need antibiotics. Taking pills from a bottle? He definitely has the exact numbers memorized. 

It is not until his cockney accent rumbles low that you are grounded back in the present.  

“Want your gift now?”

When Blue eagerly nods, he stands from the table and leaves, only to return with something in his hand covered in a scrap of cloth. Another bout of curiosity finds you.  What could he possibly gift her? You watch Blue lift up the cloth to reveal a handmade, wooden figurine.

She exhales a smile. She doesn’t seem too surprised by it but is still elated, taking the gift in her hands and smoothing her finger over the whittled shape.

It’s a squirrel. You can see it better as she looks over it. A squirrel with two circles carved around the eyes. A pair of glasses?

“He’s perfect,” she tells her behemoth of a father, who bends down to her level and strokes her hair. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Just how I imagined him.”

This is the final tradition you learn about today. The wooden squirrel is part of a collection, she explains. You’ve never been inside Blue’s bedroom. You are not allowed, of course. But she shyly admits that she has her own village going on in there and that more wooden residents are added on each birthday and holiday. She seems hesitant to tell you too much about them in the same way she was hesitant for you to hear Ghost call her Baby Blue.

The eleven-year-old brave enough to rebel nibbles her lip as she speaks, clutching her gift.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you find yourself quietly saying, looking between her and Ghost. “We all have things we like to keep to ourselves. You don't have to tell me, you know."

You feel his thick presence, the way he seems to stifle the room even in the lull of these moments where the reality of your stay here can be ignored. You give a small smile, just for her, anyway.

“It sounds cool, though," you add.

She blushes and slips away to put the squirrel in her room.

And then the last piece of Blue’s birthday is not a tradition. Instead, it is all you have to offer to this girl who has your back. 

You do her hair.

You try for something a little different this time. 

Half-up with two smaller braids that join together.

As usual, dark eyes watch from the couch.

That whole deer feeds you for more than just a week.

Despite this, you decide to go out into the forest and practice your aim. You recall how your failed shot at that man’s head resulted in snarling teeth snapping at your flesh - you want to get better. Each day, a new tree stands victim to your practicing arrows. You have to carve some more of them with the knife Ghost gave you to replace the ones that break from penetrating the tough bark. 

You feel like you own more strength now.

A pillow to sleep on, bountiful protein, and properly healed wounds have offered some back to you. You don’t feel so fatigued. Your thoughts seem easier to find. You have a new marker to make the days feel less blurred together— Blue's birthday.

It must be March 1st today, then.

When you decide your practice is done for the afternoon, you make it back to camp. You ask Ghost for a wash rag to clear your skin of the cold sweat that has collected. He is preoccupied with a game of Monopoly with Blue but begrudgingly retrieves one for you. Though, it is thoughtlessly tossed to your face. Blue apologizes on his behalf. 

You don’t have it in you to care.

Because today is the first day your gaze doesn't pry away when it finds your reflection in the mirror. The face that stares back at you - the one he threw the rag at - is one you think you can recognize. The cheekbones do not stand as angular and lean. Your lips have some color and fat to them. Not as much as Blue’s rosy pink ones, but some. 

It is also the first day that an old friend returns to you. When you glide the damp rag between your thighs, blood collects. Except for this time, it is not incited by a caltrop or knife. You don’t panic with the thought of how it will be patched up and stitched and kept clean. Rather, you almost groan with the realization of what you need to ask of Ghost. 

The hunger and stress of fleeing led you to almost forget about it. Your period is definitely weeks late, but now it is here again. Perhaps, another piece of health your body has been given back. 

With wet hair and your dirty clothes shucked back on, you find the two of them still on the rug. They have moved on to Battleship. 

“Ghost.”

Both of them look at you. Shifting your weight from foot to foot, you dig your nails into your palms. 

“I need another rag.”

“What for?” His voice arrives in an edged drawl. “Just bathed, didn’t you?”

“Are you okay?” chimes Blue, frowning. She sits up. 

“I’m fine,” you say slowly. “I just need another one.” You meet the clouded eyes you prefer to renounce, set behind the more frightening skull this time. “A dry one.”

Although Blue’s nose remains scrunched in confusion, he seems to understand.

Wordlessly, Ghost finds you another. This rag is not offered to your face. Instead, he murmurs a “here” under his breath and gives it to your hands. In this brief exchange, you detect the familiar heat that is emitted from his brawny form. It is so different from the bucket of cold water you just bathed with.

Despite the enigma and tension, there is some of Ghost you understand. He is willing to give you small things. A rag for your period. A little bit of thread for your stitches. An outdoor shed to sleep in. A pillow and blanket they don’t even use.

What he is not willing to give is anything that he deems too valuable, and anything he decides poses a risk. His trust included. 

This is why you must find a way to take care of yourself. So it is today, with your body showing you signs of its regained health, that you decide you finally need to figure out the journey to get supplies of your own.

taglist: @savagemistresss @morganvoorhees @dinsverdika @cated18 @lolszass @jeswiii @all-good-things-have-an-ending @alternatealt @uvoiid @underatreedrinkingtea @ramadiiiisme @crissteetee67 @lexi-zsy09 @spikespiegell @littlezarp @rebel-soldat @4headkissess @mckenzieriley69 @moxxiestar @palomaxaxaxa @msjaeger @galacticstxrdust @anubiseqq @l-0-v-3-r-z @kakashiislut @a-queen-blr @random0lover @hehatesmati @ghost-with-a-teacup @konigbabe

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #fanfiction #zombies

[777bae]

can you please do a jude bellingham fic where they break up but are obviously still in love with eachother and jobe decides to play cupid as he hates seeing them both miserable. angst to fluff. tysmm

Here you go sweetie <3

── Second chances

PAIRING… Jude Bellingham x fem!reader | Genre… angst | WC… 1.9k

“Jobe, I’ve already told you before, it’s not going to happen.” You grimace through the phone, gaining the feeling of deja vu after already having spoken with him about this many times before.

“Come on y/n, please.” He practically begged, as you just sighed over the overwhelming memories causing a sharp pain in your heart.

“Jobe, I’m sorry but we’ve both moved on, what once was should be left in the past.” You responded in the most confident way possible despite the potential tears threatening to fall, knowing that you were lying about the latter.

“Okay, I’m sorry for asking, I just miss you coming over and cooking for us.” Jobe mumbles as you slightly smile at his last comment.

“I miss you too Jobe, but I guess this is just how things are meant to be now.” You reason before letting out another sigh. “I’ve got to go now but I’ll see if I can catch up with you another time.”

“Okay, see you.” He bids farewell as you reciprocate, quickly ending the call as you remain seated in your place, looking down whilst questioning the past and whether what you chose to do was inherently correct.

—

“I promise you it didn’t happen!” Jude shouts.

“What do you mean it didn’t happen? There’s photo evidence!” You respond as you pull up the clear photo, extremely clear in fact, of Jude kissing another girl. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you going to a club!”

“Babe let me expl-”

“What is there to explain? It’s all here!” You interrupt him, pointing back at the photo.

“Babe, seriously-”

“Stop calling me ‘babe’! You’ve already proved how much I truly mean to you, I can’t stand looking at you right now! I never want to see your face in front of me again! Whatever we were is over!” You shout in frustration before picking up your handbag and beginning to walk to the front door.

“Y/n please, if you just let me explain.” Jude tries to reason as he grabs ahold of your hand to stop you.

“Please, don’t touch me.” You pull your hand away, turning to see the look of desperation on his face. “I can’t believe you would do this! Just leave me alone.”

You silently walk out of the house after that, this time without anyone trying to hold you back before the tears begin to stain your cheeks, your heart aching entirely.

—

After the call, your mind could only focus on what once was, unable to move your attention onto something different no matter how hard you tried.

You thought you were able to forget, hopefully suppress the memories as it hurt too much to reminisce.

A sudden ping from your phone caused you to immediately lose track of your thoughts as you immediately picked up your phone, sighing as you saw who the send was.

“Hey, can you come and cook me something, mum and dad are out.”

Chuckling lightly at the young boy's antics, you quickly sent a response before getting up and putting your coat on. You shortly walked out of the house, the cold winter air causing you to shiver as you quickly stepped into your car.

Soon arriving in front of the relatively large house, you paused once again, reminiscing the many times you visited this house before finally sliding out and walking up to the front door.

Before you could even knock on the door, however, it flung open, revealing the last person you wished to see.

You both stood still, staring at one another in shock for a few moments before he finally spoke up.

“Y/n? I didn’t realise you were coming over.” Before you could even respond Jobe popped up from behind, practically skipping over to you with a large smile on his face.

“Y/n! You’re here!” Jobe exclaims, a mischievous smile practically implanted onto his face. You watched Jude’s face as he slowly began to realise what you were actually there for.

“Come on inside, you’re letting all the cold air out.” Jobe suggests before pulling you in by your arm, leaving Jude standing in the doorway, unsure on what to do. “So what are you going to cook?”

You lightly smack the boy's shoulder in disappointment before speaking. “Wow, you don’t even know how to greet a guest.”

“Ow! Sorry, sorry.” He exclaims as you turn back to face the door, noticing that Jude was no longer standing there.

“Come on, what are you waiting for? I’m hungry!”

—

Once again, you were sitting contemplating the events of the past, no matter how much your conscience told you how wrong it was you just couldn’t help it. Seeing him for the first time again, after months felt like when you first met him.

Love at first sight was not something you believed in until you met him.

You were helping out at one of Jobe’s training sessions and it just so happened that the man himself was there to take the young boy home.

Small conversation was made between you two as you waited for the session to conclude, Jude sheepishly asking for your number afterwards caused butterflies to explode inside you. But it just so happened that it was all a lie.

The sudden call ringtone caused you to practically jump out of your skin as you quickly answered.

“Hello?”

“Y/n, are you free right now?” You immediately recognised the voice.

“Yes, are you alright Jobe?”

“Y/n please help, one of the coaches is sick so we don’t have anyone to ref our practice match.” Jobe requested as you lightly sighed, accepting that you were never going to escape from this boy.

“Give me a few minutes.” You finally respond as he quickly thanks you before you both hang up.

You soon arrived onto the playing grounds, immediately being greeted by an over enthusiastic Jobe, pulling you onto the grass.

You previously playing came into use as the mini match got on well and eventually ended with Jobe’s team winning, earning a tight hug from him.

You all began to clear off the grass as you stood on the side, waiting to bid your goodbyes with the boy once again.

“Y/n?” You froze, the voice you could immediately recognise causing you to tense up. How could you not recognise it? The voice you loved for oh so long.

“Jude, hi.” You finally respond, turning to him as you spared him a small smile.

“What are you doing here?” He questions, looking at you sceptically.

“Oh, Jobe asked me to ref a game.” You explain, motioning to the pitch as Jude just nods, no more words exchanged between the two of you.

“Y/n you’re still here? Oh hi Jude.” Jobe finally arrives, a slight smirk on his face however you could depict why in particular.

“Yeah, I just wanted to say goodbye but you took so long.” You explain, crossing your arms over your chest as you hear stifled laughter next to you.

“Sorry, I had to talk to a coach about something.” He tries to reason as you just shake your head in disapproval.

“I’ll be heading back now.” You announce before pulling the tall boy into a hug, to which he returns before walking over to your car, unsure on whether you should have bid your goodbyes to the other.

—

You had soon grown used to the constant messaging of requests from the boy, not even questioning who most of the senders were.

You were more than happy to help him, feeling as though you needed to repay him for the kindness you received since you first met him. However, each encounter somehow ended up in you coming face to face with your world renowned ex.

He no longer questioned why you were where you were, already knowing it was due to his brother’s antics.

And so you weren’t surprised when you received yet another text.

“Can you come to the house please, I need help with something.” Sighing, you slowly get up not rushing as much as you used to, eventually leading you to end up, once again, standing outside of his house, this time requiring you to knock on the door.

Unfortunately you were pleasantly surprised by the person who opened the door.

“Y/n. What are you doing here?” He questions, giving you deja vu to a few weeks ago, when you first arrived in front of his house.

“Jobe asked me to come help him with something.” You explain, gently smiling at him.

“Jobe isn’t at home right now.” Jude answers, earning a confused expression from you. “Well… do you want to come in for a quick drink?”

You lightly nod after spending a few seconds considering your pros and cons. Placing your coat onto a hanger before taking your shoes off brought back the many memories you had created in this house.

You sat down on a chair by the countertop before you watched him prepare your drink, reminding you of how he used to always do when you came around.

After a few minutes he was done, placing the drink down in front of you and smiling at you lightly, to which you returned as the both of you remained quiet, unsure on what to say.

“I’m sorry-” You both say, breaking the silence as you look at each other in surprise.

“You go first.” He suggests.

“No, you go first.” You argue as he just nods his head.

“I’m sorry, about everything, I should have stopped her before she tried, I jude, kinda, froze in the moment.” He explains, avoiding eye contact as he did so.

“I’m sorry for not letting you explain, I was just so hurt, I wasn’t thinking straight. I saw the articles confirming she forced you, I was just too ashamed to face you.” You splutter out whilst looking down, not wanting to meet his eyes.

Silence filled the room as neither of you looked at each other, ashamed to think you deserve forgiveness until you felt his hand on yours, a familiar comfort bringing you peace.

You remain in place, unsure on what to do, conflict occurring within your mind until you finally come up with a conclusion.

Wrapping your hand around his wrist, you quickly pulled him towards you, his surprised face being the last thing you see before your lips finally connected, the feeling of euphoria overcoming you as you instantly felt Jude reciprocate, both of you smiling into the kiss.

You both eventually pulled away, staring into each other’s eyes for a few moments before Jude pulled you into a tight hug.

“You don’t know how much I missed this.” You heard him mumble as you lightly nodded.

“Me too, Jude. Me too.” You answer as you remain in his arms, not wanting to ever leave this warmth.

—

The sound of the front door opening caused your eyes to instantly open, unsure on who would be arriving.

Suddenly, the head of a young boy stuck out from the hallway, a cheeky grin on his face as he began wiggling his eyebrows at the sight of you and your supposed ‘ex’ cuddling on the sofa.

Rolling your eyes, you immediately realise that he had planned this as you remembered the messages he had sent you, the fact that every time he asked you to be somewhere, Jude would always end up being there too. The smirks you constantly received from the young boy whenever you had the guts to speak to his brother.

And although you pretended to be annoyed at his mischievous plotting, you couldn’t help but smile at the lovely sight of a sleeping young man next to you, and deep down, you were grateful for Jobe pulling you two back together, allowing you to both have a second chance.

#jakeswonie #jakeswonie works #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham angst #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham x y/n #football imagine #football #borussia dortmund

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Bring Me to Life

Sam and Dean Winchester x little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: a fic about being the Winchester’s little sister inspired by the song Bring Me to Life by Evanescence. (Reader age isn’t specified but I was thinking like 10-13 ish?)

How can you see into my eyes like open doors?

“Y/N? Baby look at me, look right here. It’s Dean, I’m here.”

Leading you down into my core

Where I’ve become so numb

You’d been taken to hell by Lucifer over a month ago, and this was certainly not the first “Dean” that he had sent just to toy with you. He would get your hopes up only to reveal that it was just a fake; and then when you were almost out of hell, that’s when the fake would turn on you.

That’s when the pain would begin.

So when this Dean ran to you and grabbed hold of your shoulders, claiming to be here to take you home, you just stared at him, unable to find the energy to tell him to go away.

Without a soul, my spirit’s sleeping somewhere cold

Your vacant eyes stared right past Dean, and one look into your deadened features told Dean all he needed to know about your time in hell.

Until you find it there and lead it back home

“It’s ok N/N, it’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna take you home, I’m gonna protect you.”

You didn’t even acknowledge your big brother. That is, until he reached down to lift you into his arms. As soon as his arms were around you, you went absolutely feral.

“No!” You sobbed as you pounded your fists against Dean’s chest. “No, don’t take me!”

“Dean!” Sam’s voice came from the doorway to Lucifer’s throne room, where you were being held. “What’s going on? Someone’s gonna hear!”

“I-I don’t know!” Dean grabbed your hands to keep you from hitting him. “She-she’s just fighting me!”

“Don’t hurt me,” you begged. “Please, please, just tell Lucifer I won’t try to escape anymore, I won’t I promise!” You were hyperventilating now, still squirming to try to free yourself from Dean’s hold, but he could tell your malnourished body was starting to give out.

“Y/N, what are you talking about? It’s Dean, I’d never hurt you!”

“Wait,” Sam spoke up. “A few years ago, when I came here to get Bobby to take him to heaven, he told me that they kept sending in look-a-likes of you and me, just to torture him. She doesn’t know it’s you, Dean.”

“Baby, it’s me I promise,” Dean pleaded. “Just come with me, I—“

“Dean, we don’t have time for this,” Sam hissed. “I’m sorry, we just have to take her.”

Dean was torn for a moment, but he knew Sam was right. If they stayed here any longer, they’d be found out. Scaring you was better than leaving you here.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Dean whispered as he lifted you into his arms.

“No,” you whimpered. “No, I don’t wanna go, tell him! Tell Lucifer I’ll be good, I promise!”

“Shh, shh,” Dean hushed you as he followed Sam out of the room. “You’ve gotta keep it down little sister.”

Wake me up inside,

Call my name and save me from the dark

You stopped yelling as Dean carried you through the hallways, but he could feel you shaking in his arms the closer he got to the exit.

“We’re taking you home, kid,” he told you over and over, but it had no effect.

Bid my blood to run, before I come undone

Save me from the nothing I’ve become.

You didn’t seem to know what to do once the three of you made it outside. Dean felt your whole body curl in on itself when the sunlight hit you, and he found himself holding you tighter as he brought you to the Impala.

Now that I know what I’m without, you can’t just leave me

Setting you down into the Impala seemed to snap some life into you. Dean could see it in your eyes—those look-a-likes had never taken it this far, but you still didn’t trust it.

Once he’d set you down in the back, he moved to get in the driver’s seat, but your small hands clenched around his arm, your terrified eyes snapping up to him.

“Hey, it’s ok. You’re safe now.”

But you just held on tighter, like you were afraid he would disappear if you let go.

Breathe into me and make me real.

“Ok, ok.” Dean tossed Sam the keys before gently pushing you further into the Impala so that he could sit next to you. “I’m not going anywhere sweetheart, I promise.”

Bring me to life

Wake me up inside.

You flinched as the Impala roared to life, and Dean held you when you leaned closer to him. You didn’t speak, and Dean watched as your eyes darted around, like you thought all of this was an illusion and you were just waiting for Lucifer to drag you out of it and back to hell.

“We’re taking you back to the bunker, Y/N,” Sam said, making sure that you knew what was coming next so that you weren’t any more uncertain than you already seemed to be. “You’re gonna be safe there, I promise.”

Bring me to life

I’ve been living a lie

There’s nothing inside

Bring me to life

Once you reached the bunker, Dean stepped out of the Impala and just waited. After a moment’s hesitation, you climbed out after him, still looking around warily.

You held onto Dean’s hand as he led you into the bunker, and Sam trailed right behind you so that you didn’t have to worry about anything coming up behind you.

I’ve been sleeping a thousand years it seems

Got to open my eyes to everything

“Honey, do you want me to take you to your room?” Sam asked, leaning down to your eye level.

You looked around the bunker for a moment, taking it all in before nodding to Sam.

“Ok.” He smiled when you reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck. Sam carried you into your room and set you down on your bed.

“Sammy?”

“There she is.” Sam grinned at the sound of your voice. “You ok, honey?”

“Is,” your voice cracked, and you gripped into Sam’s hands. “Is this real?”

“Hey.” Sam pulled you into his arms, rubbing your back as you clung to him. “Of course it’s real. We got you out, your safe now. Nobody’s ever going to hurt you again, I promise.”

Without a thought, without a voice, without a soul

Don’t let me die here, there must be something more

Dean was just thinking that he should check on you and Sammy when he heard your scream from across the bunker. He made it to your room in record time, shoving the door open to reveal Sam shaking you awake as you thrashed around in your sleep, still screaming.

“Y/N, hey!” Dean stepped up next to his little brother and grabbed hold of your shoulder. You bolted upright with a cry, your head whipping back and forth as you took in your surroundings.

“Hey, hey it’s ok,” Sam soothed. “You’re in the bunker, you’re ok.”

“I’m right here,” Dean added, grabbing your hand. “You ok?”

You struggled to breathe, your breaths coming out as whimpers as you cried.

“Dean?” You called out finally after a minute.

“Yeah, hey baby I’m right here.”

“De, I’m-I’m all wet,” you mumbled, still crying.

Sam turned on the small lamp next to your bed, and sure enough your hair was plastered to your face with sweat, your dirty top soaked through. But it was more than that—the sheets under you were soaked—you had wet the bed.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered.

“Hey, don’t apologize,” Dean soothed. “It’s not your fault, let’s get you cleaned up baby.”

Bring me to life

Wake me up inside,

Call my name and save me from the dark

Sam switched your sheets out with clean ones while you got into the shower, cleaning off all the sweat and blood that you’d been too exhausted to clean off when you first arrived.

As soon as you were out, Dean was waiting outside to help you dry off and change into your pajamas.

“That’s better.” Dean smiled reassuringly at you as he dabbed at your face with a towel, drying off some of the spots you’d missed. “You’re safe now, kiddo. I promise you.”

“Will you sleep with me?” You asked, holding onto Dean’s shoulders for stability as you swayed a little from exhaustion.

“Of course.” Dean lifted you into his arms and carried you over to your bed.

“It’s all clean now,” Sam said as he helped Dean tuck you in. “Sweetheart, I’m gonna go make us some food for when you wake up, but Dean’s gonna stay here with you. Is that ok?”

You nodded, your eyes drooping from sleep.

Sam left to make you some food as Dean pulled you gently into his arms. You rested your head against his chest, falling asleep to the gentle thump of his heart.

You’d been through a lot, but with some overbearing TLC of your big brothers, you would be ok.

Bring me to life.

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy

@mrvlxgrl

#dean winchester #dean and sam #dean winchester x reader #supernatural dean #the winchesters #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #winchesters x sister #spn sam winchester #winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x sister #dean winchester x sister!reader #winchester x sister #dean x sister #sam x sister!reader

[sentientcave]

Heavy Weighs the Crown

Had to stop working on everything else and write a whole bunch of this instead. Usually I like to finish things that I think might be on the longer side before I start posting, but we're gonna live on the edge with this one. Expect updates in 1-2 Bearimys.

Chapter One - Sweetpea

Next Chapter >

Contains: Generic fantasy setting, Princess Reader, Large men picking up reader like a football, No Y/N, A spot of magic, Some exposition, Reader's dad (deceased) was a real piece of work, Reader descriptions kept as neutral as possible but keep in mind that she is a character to me and does have a specific appearance so things might slip through. This is just me having a bit of fun with a fantasy setting because it is my favourite type.

~3.4k Words - MDNI

Sunlight streams down through the light scattering of clouds above, as you carry your nearly empty basket into town to buy a few things for your auntie Kate. She’s not truly your aunt, but over the past few years it’s hard to think of her as anything less than family. She’s not warm, exactly, but she’s honest, and you know that you can trust her with anything.

Kate would usually be at your side when you go into town, watching the crowd with hawkish intensity, as though she still expects agents of the new king to materialize and snatch you away, but she’s away on business, and her wife much less paranoid. You expect that anyone who was ever looking for you has given up on you now. After the civil war, there was a time of instability, and you laid awake many nights, half expecting armed men to break into your bedroom and snatch you away, but everything is smoothed over now, and there’s no reason why Price would feel like he needed you to cement his rule.

You’re happy to just let him have the kingdom. You have more freedom as an ordinary girl, and you’re happier now than you ever have been. You were miserable living in your father’s halls, just a spindly little flower growing without enough sun or rain. And your people are happy now too. It twists your stomach something fierce, to think that your father was never a good king, but the reality is that he wasn’t. People starved while he feasted behind his walls. He sent good men to wage war on his behalf, to die in far off lands when they should have been home building better lives for themselves and their families. He allowed his chosen men to terrorize the women and children and old men living in the towns still. Things had been bad.

So yes, let Price have the crown, and the castle, and the responsibility and anything he likes. What difference does it make to you now?

What matters now is the sun on your face, and the gentle sound of birdsong around you, and the dull bite of the occasional stone through the soft leather soles of your shoes. The air smells sweet and green, although there’s a slight prickle at the back of your nose that tells you that there will be rain tonight, or tomorrow morning at the latest. There’s nothing to worry about aside from whether or not the children in town will like the end of the book you have tucked into your basket.

You see a young man sleeping by the side of the road on your way into town, his horse tied to a long halter while he lounges beneath a tree. As you pass by, a bird flying too close startles the horse, and it pulls up the peg it’s tied to, and bolts. The young man doesn’t stir, so you dash after the horse without a thought, dropping your basket so you have both hands free to seize the halter.

You try to dig in your heels to stop the big, white-stockinged horse, but it half-drags you a little ways down the road before finally stopping, swinging it’s head around to look at you as though you’ve personally offended it. “Come on,” you tell it, exasperated. “You don’t belong out here.”

Arms wrap around you from behind, hands much larger than yours close over your wrists. “You’re awfully pretty for a horse thief,” a voice says in your ear.

“I’m not a horse thief!” you protest. “I was trying to help!” The horse snorts, as though it intends to tattle on you for something that you most certainly were not doing.

“And you didn’t think to wake me up?” The man behind you lets go of one of your wrists and spins you around, the movement smooth and graceful, like you’re two dancers at a ball, rather than two strangers meeting along a country road. But when you look up, you find the all too familiar face of one of Price’s knights.

“Sir Garrick!” you gasp.

“Princess,” he says, smiling. He’s far too handsome, his smile bright, teeth a little bit too sharp. “How very nice to see you. I thought for sure you’d have left the kingdom by now.”

“No! Oh no.” You push against his chest uselessly. He’s strong, so much stronger than you. Despair claws at your ribs. Your nightmare-come-true may be wrapped in a pretty, familiar face, but you have no desire to return to the capital. “Please let me go. I promise I don’t want the kingdom. Price can have it— You can have it. I just want to be left alone, I swear, I’ll never—”

“Hush, sweetpea.” He tucks a few of your thin braids behind your ear, fingertips grazing down your neck. “I have to bring you in. But you can make your case to Price. Maybe he’ll let you come back, alright? Don’t fret. He’s always been reasonable.”

You’re not certain how to get out of this. Sir Garrick has kind eyes, but his grip is like steel. He lifts you up easily and sets you on his horse before you so much as think of protesting or making a feeble attempt to fight him off.

“We’re not far from the capital. We can make it there before dark,” he continues, voice low and reassuring, as though you’re worried about the travel, and not the destination.

“But— What about my aunt? I should let her know where I’ve gone.”

“We’ll send word. Don’t you worry, your majesty.”

“No, no, don’t call me that. That’s for kings and queens, and I’m neither.” I’m no one, you want to shout.

He's amused by that, amused by you, as if you're just being a silly little girl. "I suppose we'll settle on sweetpea for now." He holds his palm out and three little white birds materialize and fly off in different directions, spectral and iridescent as soap bubbles. And then he swings into the seat behind you and pulls you most of the way into his lap, wraps strong arms around your waist, and nudges his mount into a walk.

“So,” Sir Garrick says conversationally, his voice low, lips far too close to your ear. It’s overly familiar, but you’re already practically sitting in the man’s lap. “What have you been doing out here all these years?”

“Um. Gardening. Embroidery. Taking care of my chickens. Lessons, for some of the children that live nearby. Just letters and arithmetic. I’ve been thinking about organizing a proper schoolhouse.” You can feel your nerves bubbling up as you babble, thoughts coming to you disorganized and stilted. “I never realized how few people can read. It seems a shame. I do a few hours of reading around town, help out at the church. I keep busy. I haven’t any real purpose, so I have to go out of my way to make one.” You sigh, thinking of how you had left things at a particularly gripping point in a story you’d been reading to the town children. They’ll be disappointed if they never hear the end of it, but you still have hope that Price will decide you’ve become something of a country bumpkin with no place in the court, and let you go back home soon. “How have you fared? Is your family well?”

“Quite well. My sisters will be glad to see you again. They always thought you were sweet. Rosie’s opened her own dress shop in the city, and Camellia has five children now. I think Kylie and Jorah were just two or three last you saw them. My mother lives with Cam to help out.” Sir Garrick’s mother and sister used to work at the palace, and he had been apprenticed to the court wizard before he specialized in battle magic and became a knight. You hadn’t been friends, exactly— You’re not sure you ever really had friends— but he’d always been nice enough, when your paths crossed.

“And what of you?” you prompt gently. “Have you found yourself a wife?”

He laughs lightly. “I’m working on it. I’ve a girl in mind, but I think she’ll take some convincing.”

“Oh I doubt that, Sir. You’re perfectly unobjectionable.”

“High praise indeed, princess.”

The two of you chat idly as you travel, mostly about nothing, but it’s pleasant enough. Sir Garrick— Kyle, he insists you call him— is far more charming than you remember, and he makes you laugh so much that you’re certain that you’d simply fall right off the horse if he wasn’t holding onto you so securely. He’s the very picture of a romantic hero, all chivalry and smiles, handsome in the dappled light under the canopy of trees as the road carries you from farmland to forest. You come to a bridge, and he dismounts so his horse can drink, and lifts you down so you can stretch out stiff muscles. His touch lingers, strong hands resting on your hips for a few beats longer than would be appropriate, but you don’t really mind.

You part from his company so you can relieve yourself a little ways into the trees, glad he’s not concerned about you making a run for it. His assurances that Price can be reasoned into letting you go home once you’ve spoken to him is enough to make you cooperative. You’re certain that he’ll take one look at you now and send you right back home. You’ve never had any luck with the young men in town, and if that’s any indication, you’ll be back to your little bedroom in Kate’s house before the week is up.

You fix your clothes and walk back to the road, humming lightly under your breath. Kyle is speaking to a flat glowing disc that hums with energy, floating above his palm. He gives you a smile and a nod and retreats to the tree line while he finishes his conversation. You catch a glimpse of a face on the disc as he turns, searing blue eyes meeting yours for a moment. Price, certainly. You recognize those eyes.

Kyle’s gaze slips over to you again as you kneel by the creek, one arm keeping your skirt out of the water while you trail the other hand through the water idly, the cool stream a pleasant offset to the heat of the afternoon. If you were alone, you would consider stripping down and going for a swim, but as nice as Kyle is, he’s still a man, and not one you know particularly well anymore, if you ever did.

When you look over again, he’s tucking the crystal disc into the front of his tunic, and a wolf is behind him, stalking out of the woods, low to the ground and ready to pounce. “Kyle!” you shout, pointing behind him. He turns quickly, a spell glittering on his fingertips, but the wolf pounces before he can cast it, both crashing into the packed earth along the side of the road.

You rush over, although halfway there you wonder what help you expect to be, and an arm snatches you around the middle, hauling you back. You’re beginning to get a bit annoyed at how much you’ve been manhandled today, and you start kicking as you’re lifted off your feet. “Let me go!”

“Easy, sweet girl. Let the lads say hello,” a deep voice says behind you, the sound rumbling through you like a cat’s purr. “No danger ‘ere.”

You look at Kyle and the wolf again. Only there isn’t a wolf anymore, just a large, naked man laying on top of Kyle, kissing him ardently and more than a little messily. The sound of it makes your cheeks burn. “Oh.”

The man who was a wolf stands up, and you look away, too flustered by the sight of so much bare skin to do anything else. The big man puts you down and turns you to face him, putting your back to the werewolf. “Johnny, put some clothes on before you say ‘ello. We know you were raised by savages, but you don’t need to act like it,” he says firmly, his heavy hands on your shoulders.

You stare at the skull embroidered on the black tunic in front of you, recognizing the emblem, and then the black fencers mask tied around the man’s face, obscuring even the shape of his features. You see a glint of light when he drops his chin to look at you though, gleaming eyes that look at you inscrutably. You know him, by name and reputation and deep, rumbling voice, if not by his face. No one knows him by his face, but he was as highly ranked a knight as Price was, one of your father’s personal guard before the war. Often tasked as your guardian, a solemn but comforting presence always. “Hello, Ghost,” you say, cheeks burning all the hotter. “Been a while.”

“Not as long as you might think,” he says. You can almost hear the smile in his voice. “Been keepin’ an eye on you.”

“What do you mean?” you ask. “For how long?”

“Knew where you were this whole time. Wun’t about to let you disappear, princess.” He tucks you against his side, keeping an arm around your shoulders protectively. “Johnny. Come meet our girl. Best behaviour.”

Johnny the werewolf grins at you as he walks up, still adjusting the drape of the tartan fabric around his hips, broad chest bare and dusted with hair, swirling blue tattoos printed on his scarred skin. His hair is shaved on the sides, a stripe of it left long in the center. “Nice ta finally meet ya, princess. Officially, anyway. We’ve bumped intae each other once or twice, but I was told no’ ta approach unless ye approached first, aye? Shame ye never did.” His smile is crooked, his too-bright blue eyes intent on yours. “Think we’ll get along.”

“The whole time?” you ask, skipping back a few paces in the conversation, glancing up at Ghost. “But Kyle said—”

“Sorry, sweetpea,” Kyle says airily. “I lied.”

“Typical tricksy wizard shite. But dinnae ye worry none, we’ll keep him honest for ye.” Johnny grabs your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles, and then to the inside of your palm. His rough fingertips push your sleeve back, and he kisses the inside of your wrist too. When you squeak, he gives you a heated look and does it again, teeth grazing sensitive skin as he opens his mouth and licks a stripe across your pulse.

You’re warm from the tips of your ears to your chest, your breath catching on ragged nerves. You tug your hand out of his grip and cradle it with your other, like you’ve been burned by his brash touch.

“Johnny,” Ghost says, exasperated. “S’that what you call best behaviour?”

“She likes it, sir.”

“I most certainly do not!” you protest.

“Oh, aye ye do. Werewolf, ye ken. Can smell ye.” Johnny taps the side of his nose and winks at you. “Ye dinnae need ta be embarrassed, sweetpea. Ye can hardly blame yerself, faced with all this.” He gestures to his admittedly impressive physique, the broad and lean shape of near-perfect manhood on immodest display.

“Let’s move.” Kyle’s hand brushes your elbow. “You can ride with me again.”

Ghost shakes his head and turns, pulling you with him. “No. Come meet Nox.” He whistles, and a huge black shape hurtles down from the sky, glossy black wings snapping open just before the creature hit the ground, flapping a few times so that it lands lightly on four mismatched limbs, stirring up dust leaves. You shrink back against Ghost’s side, eyes wide. A gryphon.

The massive beast has a raven’s head and wings, and shiny black fur on it’s haunches. The catlike tail, with it’s tuft of feathers at the end, twitches back and forth as the bird head tilts to regard you, dark, slit-pupil eyes watching you with interest.

You look up at Ghost for reassurance, and he nods. “Go on. Offer ‘er your ‘and. She won’t bite. Hey, girl?” he scratches the gryphon behind the ear, and it opens it’s mouth to make a vibrating, keening sound that makes Kyle’s horse snort nervously. “That’s right, sweetpea’s a friend.”

You offer your outstretched hand to the giant creature, bolstered by Ghost’s calm, and it sticks it’s beak under your palm, making the same keening sound again. The last of your apprehension melts away, and you step closer, smiling. “Aren’t you a pretty girl?” You scratch the spot where her beak meets her feathers, and her eyes close for a moment.

Johnny reaches for the Nox’s side, and she whips her head around and hisses at him, her throat feathers fluffing up defensively. “Och, yer no’ goan ta git my fingers, ye wee beastie. Thought ye was gettin’ soft.”

“Away, Johnny. Let the girls get to know each other.” Ghost stands behind you and guides your hands to points just behind Nox’s jaw. The gryphon croaks and leans her head on your shoulder, nudging Ghost with her beak.

“Not so scary,” you coo, pressing your face into the soft cloud of feathers. “What a sweet girl.”

“How about it, Nox? Can she ‘op up?” Ghost asks. The gryphon croaks again and backs away enough to lean her front half down. Ghost picks you up and sets you on her back, on a flat saddle that sits right behind the joint of her massive wings, which fold up over your legs like she’s holding you steady. He pats Nox on the neck and starts walking, and she follows, padding beside him, sticking her beak between the joints of his leather armor playfully whenever he takes his hand off her.

You grab the edge of the saddle, mindful of Nox’s feathers, and it takes a moment to adjust to her movement. It’s not the side to side sway of a horse, but she’s steady, like she’s trying her best not to spill an inexperienced rider. Thoughtful of her.

Behind you, Kyle scrambles up onto his horse, and Johnny hustles to catch up, positioning himself on Ghost’s other side, giving Nox a wider berth.

“Thought we weren’t supposed ta tell her we were watchin’,” Johnny said. “Price said—”

“She ought to know. I wun’t too ‘appy about it in the first place, but a deal’s a deal.”

“A deal with who?” you ask.

“I’ll let Price tell you that much, sweetpea. But if it were up to me I’d’ve dragged you back home years ago.”

You shake your head tiredly. “Home is where I was. And I’m going back as soon as this business with Price is done. I don’t know what he wants, but I’m sure we can work something out. Kyle said he’s reasonable.”

“Oh, did ‘e?” Ghost asks, amusement colouring his deep voice. “S’pose that’s ‘ow ‘e had you comin’ along purrin’ like a kitten, hm?”

The blood drains from your face as you turn to look at Kyle, but he doesn’t look guilty, or like he’d been lying to you. “Well, again, I’m perfectly happy to cooperate. There’s no reason why he wouldn’t let me go when he gets what he wants, is there?”

Johnny chuckles, exchanging a look with Ghost that’s inscrutable. “Aye, ye’ve got a point. I’m sure ye’ll have no trouble dealin’ with the old man. Born diplomat, aren’t ye?”

Your stomach twists with nerves. It’s been many years since you’ve seen John Price. You don’t know him as well as you know Ghost. You’d always found the big, faceless man strangely comforting, easy to talk at, if not to, especially when you were still young and silly. But John Price, when he fixed you with those fathomless dark blue eyes, had always rendered you speechless, turned your usually clever tongue to lead. He was a knight captain then, a natural leader of men, a hero. Not someone that your father wanted you to get close to. It’s easy for you to see why now, with your father dead in the ground and Price wearing the crown, but you were glad for any excuse to stay away.

You wish you could ask Nox to fly away with you on her back, maybe home, but maybe somewhere else entirely, where no one knows you, where you can start again without the weight of the crown hanging heavy over your head, an executioner’s ax waiting to fall.

***

Image credits: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

#Fantasy AU #cod mw fanfiction #x reader #x fem Reader #141 x reader #Heavy Weighs the Crown #Cave Writing #This is mostly gonna be fun and light-hearted I just really enjoy fantasy and I've been watching a lot of DnD content lately #“He's always been reasonable” Kyle lies thinking fondly of his boss - the least reasonable man in the realm #Let me know if you need any content warnings in here but I feel this one's pretty light

[lillipupz]

hi here’s my commissions details ♡

commissions are open!!!

payment methods (important!)

before asking me about commissions, please make sure your preferred payment method and country are available on codashop!! (it is not available in canada and the uk :[!!) this is how i will get payment after i send you the artwork ♡

here are the commission details! but to sum it up…

summary of payments

0.99 - rough sketch

4.99 (blessing of the welkin moon purchase preferred) - lineart + flat colors, but if you’d like lineart that is shaded, it will be doubled (purchased twice)

14.99 - shaded lineart with a patterned background (not a painted background, simply detailed & you can also ask for specific details if you have any in mind :])

29.99 - shaded lineart with a background (detailed) that includes a tiny thank-you doodle of your favorite character/whoever you want!!

49.99 - a properly rendered character and background with every detail possible as well as a thank-you doodle of your favorite character/whoever you want!!!

NOTE: if you would like two characters past the 14.99 option, the original payment stands but i also ask for 4.99 payment as well

if you wish to pay beforehand, that’s okay but i do not prefer one or the other. i trust you to pay me when the art is finished and sent!! ^^

what am i not okay with drawing?

NSFW

furries (for now! i am learning still)

mecha

fetish art of any kind

real people

at the end of the transaction…

i will send you the final piece (alongside a thank-you doodle if you’ve paid the 29.99–49.99 options) and i ask that i am paid 48 hours within the time frame of me sending the art (if there are complications please let me know beforehand ♡ i will not be upset if there are issues and payment may take a few more days!!!) all i ask is that i am paid & that you are happy with the art!! once the art is sent it is yours <3 i will not post it unless you allow me to!!!

examples of art styles

sketches (0.99–4.99 depending on if it is a rough sketch or lineart)

colored + shaded lineart (4.99–14.99 depending on if lineart is shaded or not)

shaded lineart with patterned or slightly detailed background—14.99

shaded lineart and detailed background (with a little thank-you doodle)—29.99, with 4.99 purchase added onto it if there are 2+ characters in the piece

art with more refined background details and a more realistic style + rendering on both the character and background—49.99, with 4.99 purchase added onto it if there are 2+ characters in the piece

okay that’s all i think. love u

#art commisions #hetalia #<— mostly. if given an exact ref of who you want me to draw i will do it <3 #any questions? dm me or drop them in my inbox <:] #there are 2 questions at the beginning of the codashop app that you’ll need my help with and i’ll give them to you when asked 💕 #^ nothing major btw just my user id and what region i play from #if you have read through all of this & would like to commission me you can dm me here & if you’d prefer discord you can ask for that ^^

[wardenparker]

Vampire Waltz - ch 7

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 13.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* Reader being self-conscious as usual. Some conversation about blood/vampire eating habits. But mostly this is just unabashed fluff and flirting. Summary: Allison helps you get ready for your first date with Max, and as scared as you are, you are equally excited for the night ahead. Notes: For our chapter banner this week: the White Horse Tavern! A real and very lovely place in Newport, RI. May or may not actually be owned by vampires, though...I'll have to get back to y'all on that...

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6

It’s cute, utterly charming really, the way that you are currently freaking out in your bedroom. Max isn’t trying to eavesdrop, but you are being so loud that he can’t help but listen. Especially at first, when he wanted to make sure that you weren’t hurt. After the initial scream, he realizes you were panicking about the date he had formally asked you on. Deciding that visiting the dance studios deserved a little bit of flair. He had asked you if he could take you to dinner beforehand. You’re his soulmate, you deserve effort. Something that you’ve obviously received precious little from by the previous asshole in your life. For once, Max wants to make sure that you completely forget about that douchebag. Never jealous of anyone’s previous lovers, he wants to make you realize that you were just having a bad dream for the past ten plus years. Now you are awake, now you can enjoy yourself.

"Alli, you can't be serious?" Nearly clutching the dress that she brought over for you to borrow in two shaky hands, you look over the skimpy black number with trepidation. This is your fault. You know that. You're the one who went to the cheese shop at the end of her shift this afternoon to get some advice. She had sent you home to pull out your most comfortable pair of dancing shoes and swore to provide the perfect dress if you just promised to trust her. And you do trust her. She has never given you any reason not to. But this dress is short.

“Come on, it’s perfect!” She’s grinning from ear to ear, ecstatic for you and your date. It makes perfect sense now why Max had been hovering around you as a bat. You’re his soulmate. It’s so romantic, she wants to cry. “You’ll look amazing and Max will be panting to get under it!”

“It’s just the first date,” You remind her, nervous at even the mention of any kind of intimacy. Not because you don’t want Max — but maybe instead because you do and you haven’t felt that in so many years.

“The first date with your soulmate.” She reminds you with a smirk. “He’s supposed to be your perfect match, so it’s okay to put out on the first date.” She teases.

“He’s also my housemate, so if I do and that’s all he wanted from me it’s going to be awkward as hell.” It’s not that you think that of Max. It’s that the voice of doubt in your head is still loud and clear over everything else. “I’m just... I’m nervous.”

“Do you honestly think he would have joined a coven of witches at a Mabon celebration if all he wanted was the good-good?” She asks, arching a brow curiously.

“Well…no.” You snort, shaking your head at Allison. “And if you ever call it that again I won’t tell you if it actually happens.”

Laughing, Allison waggles her brows. The term was meant to disarm you and it worked. “Fine.” She huffs. “But I want details. Vampires are supposed to be incredible lovers.”

“You could always find out for yourself.” Aware of what Max had mentioned about their superior hearing, and unsure if Eddie is at home at the moment, you lower your voice measurably. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Eddie lately.”

"What?" Her lip immediately goes between her teeth and she blushes furiously. "We are just — you know — uh, collaborating for the masquerade."

“Mmhmm.” Drawing out the sound incredulously, you grin again and eye the dress in her hands. “Tell me everything and I will try the dress on. Just to see.”

"He's nice." She hands you the dress in exchange for information. "I like talking to him. He's — well, he's just so...human."

“He is very nice.” The short dress has a beautiful, flowy skirt that will be great for dancing and you disappear into your dressing room with it with trepidation. “And he likes you! It’s even obvious to me and my observation skills suck.”

"Please...." She rolls her eyes, even if you can't see her. "I think he's just being nice because he wants to join the coven."

“If that was the case, he’d be making nice with everyone, not meeting you in town to take you out for coffee.” Having found out that that was where Eddie was on the night that you and Max had been left to eat dinner together, you found that there was no possible way to be upset about it. Things with Max are…they’re moving forward in a way that makes you nervous and giddy. And whatever is growing between Eddie and Allison is obviously mutual.

She huffs and bites her lip again. "We have a lot in common and I enjoy talking with him. Even though he's been in college forever, he's still enthusiastic about learning. He's even talking about coming out to the farm."

“That sounds like fun!” Finding the zipper on Allison’s strappy black dress takes a second, but you’re able to exchange the one you’ve been wearing all day today for the one she brought for you to borrow. The deep v-neckline and cutouts in the back are more skin than you’ve shown in years but you know instinctively that it’s the kind of thing Max will love. Fashionable and daring. The kind of girl he deserves even if it’s not the kind of girl you feel like. “Okay…um…I’m coming out.”

Allison gasps as you emerge from your dressing room, nodding immediately. "It's perfect, you can't convince me otherwise. Look at yourself!" She squeals as she guides you towards a mirror.

"Kind of weird that we're the exact same size..." Even standing directly in front of the mirror you can't bring yourself to look up. To look at yourself in any kind of positive way whatsoever. It's like it's been beaten out of you as if you were a stray dog. "It fits well."

"I'd be lucky if I still fit in it." She huffs. "Too much cheese. But you, you've got such a perfect figure to pull this off."

"No such thing as 'too much cheese'," you gripe, shuffling slightly in front of the full—length mirror. You're just staring at your shoes and fighting with yourself to figure out if you're brave enough to look up. "Do you...think he'll like it?" If he does, it doesn't matter what you think anyway. Max's opinion is the only one that matters.

"I think he will love it." She assures you, reaching up and touching your shoulders. "It will restart his non-beating heart."

"Apparently only one thing can actually do that." Digging into your armoire for a sweater, you come out with one that is midnight blue and black with little gold stars stitched all over it. It's still cold out, after all, and this will help you to feel a little less exposed.

"What is that?" She's always been interested in the dynamics of vampirism but she's too polite to ask Eddie to answer her questions.

"Apparently..." Clearing your throat slightly and pulling your sweater tight around your shoulders, you glance up and meet Allison's eyes in the mirror. "A kiss from their soulmate."

"Ohhhh now that's the most romantic thing that I've ever heard." She moans, softening visibility and looking amost wistful at the thought. "Come on, Dolly, that's just so romantic."

"I told Max that it sounded like something out of a romance novel." Which is a sentiment that you stand by very firmly. "Who knows how true it is. But it's sweet to imagine."

"Maybe you will find out tonight." She offers with a sincere smile, not wanting to tease you. "I really think he likes you, Dolly. All that time as a bat, visiting you? Being near you. He was drawn to you."

"I still can't believe that was him." She knows all about those nighttime visits of course. You hadn't thought it was a big deal to tell her about the little bat that visited you, but now you see that it was all so much more important than you realized. And she had known the entire time, but never made you feel silly for not guessing. How could you?

"It's sweet." She hums, smiling again. "I want to see him again like a bat. It was so cute to see him on your shoulder, cuddling into your neck."

“He said he didn’t mind transforming again sometimes if I wanted him to.” Suddenly you feel like you should be busy again, and you move to your jewelry box out of nerves. “He knows that I found it…comfortable. But we might get a pet for the house.”

"Okay, so Max would change into a bat to comfort you, and you still wonder if he likes you?" After spending time with you, she's learned of your ex and she understands your trepidation. "I don't think you should."

“I just…” You sigh, feeling your shoulders start to curl, and you take two long breaths in and out to prevent it. “I hope I’m more than a novelty to him, that’s all. His life is so long. It’s forever and I’m not saying he has to propose or anything crazy. I just…I would like to think a person should feel important to their soulmate. I haven’t been important to anybody since my parents died.”

"You know how long Cookie lived." Allison reminds you. "You could do the same. She—" She pauses for a moment. "Her decision to no longer prolong her life was a very serious one. But until she stopped taking her soulmate's blood, she looked no older than forty."

“Why did she stop?” That has never truly made sense to you. If someone was happy with their eternal life, why on earth would they give it up?

She sighs softly. "It— a very power spell was cast. Meant to last through time until death." She explains quietly. "It was the only way to break it and it was important enough to her to break it."

“What sort of a witch would cast something that depends on life or death?” The idea strikes you as positively cruel, but of course you can’t know what the spell was or the circumstances.

"One that knew that her soulmate could provide her with immortality." Allison explains. "It was...done in anger. Hopefully regretted, but nothing I could find could break it. Cookie spent years trying to break it."

“That’s awful.” As angry as you had ever been in your life at certain people or certain circumstances, you can’t ever imagine that type of anger. Not to mention you’ve never done much spell work beyond lighting a candle or floating an object across a room. And you’re woefully out of practice at even those.

"It was...complicated." Allison hums, "from what I've heard. I never got to meet the person." She knows more of the story, Cookie confided in her in an effort to find a way to break the spell, but she wouldn't betray the woman's confidence, even in death. Especially when it was his place to explain.

“I hope that everything worked out the way she wanted it to, then. Even if she isn’t here to see it.” Concentrating on your jewelry box is the best you can do and not get upset for no reason — but something about the whole situation just makes you overwhelmingly sad.

Allison bites her lip but just makes a non-committal sound. “So where is Max taking you for dinner?” Wanting to change the subject, but also genuinely curious as to your first date details.

“He said there was a vampire-owned restaurant on the island that was really nice.” When you had insisted that dinner wasn’t necessary because he didn’t need to eat food, he had come back with the alternative of a restaurant that also discreetly served blood to discerning patrons. That had been enough to make you agree. “It’s…a tavern? The White Horse Tavern?”

She’s impressed. Whistling lowly, she nods. “It’s only the oldest tavern in the country.” She tells you with a grin. “Super swanky, so it sounds like Max is wanting to do things right. Dinner, dancing….” She sighs. “Sounds incredibly romantic for a first date.”

“He really…he doesn’t have to make a big deal out of it.” And you had told Max that, but he had only shaken his head and told you the restaurant would be perfect. “It’s very romantic, but I guess I’m just…a little worried I won’t live up to it. And I would hate to disappoint him.”

“Why would you disappoint him?” She asks. “He knows you. This isn’t a blind date.”

The irony of that observation makes you laugh dryly, and you turn to look at her instead of searching for earrings. "It was supposed to be," you tell her honestly. "We were supposed to go on a blind date. In college."

“Really?” Her eyes widen. “What happened? Why didn’t you go? You mean you could have known Max this entire time?”

“He had an emergency that night. He couldn’t come.” There is such an ache in your heart realizing that — if things had been different — he could have graduated as a human and you could have been together for ten years already. “Everything could have been so different.”

“Do you—” she pauses for a moment. “Do you resent him for that? Because of being with your ex?”

“No.” Surprisingly enough, that answer is easy. It isn’t Max’s fault that Derek was in that bar that night. He had his life turned upside down in a completely different way. “I just wonder what the second chance will be like.”

“While Max can be cocky, he’s also more mature than he would have been ten years ago.” Allison tells you. “So I think it will be very good for both of you.”

"I hope so." That hope is a long buried feeling for you, and while you feel silly for admitting it...Allison has never been anything but welcoming, friendly, and supportive with you. She's the friend you had dearly missed having for all these years. "I'm different than I used to be, too. I just hope we're not too different."

“Eddie told me that Max, uh, he had a second chance.” Allison admits. “That he lost all his scars? So if you had changed too much, wouldn’t your birthmark never reappear?”

Startled by the solid logic of that thought, you almost reel backward, standing up a little straighter in surprise. "I guess...I never thought of it like that."

She smiles, happy that she could reassure you in some small way. “Then remember that the universe chose you as his soulmate, twice.”

"What about your soulmate?" She's never talked about it before but you feel like this is the time to ask if there is ever going to be one.

“I don’t think I have one.” She admits quietly. “I’ve never had scars, birthmarks or anything.” She shrugs. “Some people don’t.”

"Maybe your soulmate just didn't want to mark you up because they already know you're perfect just as you are." Of course, Allison is right. Some people just don't have soulmates. But that kind of loneliness is not something you would ever wish on anyone as kind as she is.

“Who knows?” She’s very doubtful of that, but it’s sweet that you would want to comfort her. “It just means that I get to enjoy everyone else finding their soulmates.”

“And you can make your own decision for your life. Whatever that decision turns out to be.” There is a matching set of jewelry in your box — a necklace and earrings that all bear golden crescent moon pendants with a little blue stone hanging like a star inside it — and you pick those out to wear tonight. “My parents weren’t soulmates, you know. They just loved each other. Fiercely and with everything they had. Just because someone isn’t your soulmate doesn’t mean they’re not going to be good for you.”

“They weren’t?” She asks curiously, tilting her head in shock.

“No.” The earrings slide into place easily and the matching necklace is a comfort, making you feel a little less exposed in the outfit you’re wearing. Makeup is the last touch. “They met at my mother’s work. She was a librarian and Dad was doing research for his doctoral thesis. She dropped a book that she was trying to get off a high shelf and he picked it up for her. That was that. They were inseparable for the rest of their lives.”

“That’s so sweet. They were both witches too?” She remembers you talking about being raised a witch, but didn’t want to assume.

“My dad was a Bishop on his mother’s side.” It was always a point of pride for him, to be descended from one of the Salem witches, and so it is for you as well. “Mom didn’t know her family, but she was a witch by her own devices, I guess.”

“Was she adopted?” She wonders, asking delicately.

“She never really talked about it.” Which had always struck you as strange, and then was downright inconvenient later in life. “She used to call Dad’s parents her adoptive family and stuff like that. We weren’t close to them, though. I guess they didn’t like that he moved away from Massachusetts, but they liked Mom well enough. They were everything I had and then…they were gone.”

“That’s so horrible. I’m so sorry. I know that it’s hard to lose a parent.” She murmurs softly. “Even worse to lose both at the same time.”

“That’s…kind of why this has been so nice,” you admit, turning to look at Allison again. “I know I didn’t know Cookie. And that we were only loosely related. But it’s kind of like getting my family back. Or as close to it as I’ll ever come, anyway.”

Allison reaches out and takes your hand. "I hope that you know that we will happily be your family. Found family is the ones that you love the most."

The sincerity of the moment cracks something tight in your chest, and before you know it you’re pulling Allison in and hugging her tightly, just willing yourself not to shed tears into her oversized sweater. “Thank you.” Two shattered words, but they are the best you can do at first. Until you manage a deep breath and huff out a half—laugh before pulling away again. “You’ve been so kind to me right from the start. All of you have. And I can’t possibly say how grateful I am. It’s…well, it’s been years since I’ve had a close friend and you’re just…you’re the sweetest woman in the whole world.”

"I felt that you had the kindest energy." She admits, "just that you were...lost. But now it seems that you have found yourself. You are finding yourself, who you are meant to be."

“Whoever that ends up being,” you squeeze her shoulder gently. “I owe her, at least in part, to you.”

"No." She shakes her head, smiling at you as if you were the most precious thing. "You have done this all on your own. You just let are letting her shine through."

“You’re the sweetest person in the whole world.” And she’s yet one more unexpected part of this whole wonderful situation, which you find yourself grateful for all over again. “You should go see if Eddie is home, honey. No sense in letting him sit at home alone while Max and I are out, right?”

She bites her lip again, a habit of hers when you mention Eddie. "I think I will." She decides with a small grin. "Wish me luck."

“Good luck.” Although you don’t think she’s going to need it. Not when it comes to Eddie.

"Do you want me to help you finish getting ready?" She offers, tilting her head playfully.

“It’s just my makeup left, and I can manage that.” The vintage purse you’ll be taking is already packed, and a moment alone to remind your reflection that this is a good thing, not something to be afraid of would probably be good. “Go and have your own fun night, honey. I want to hear all about it tomorrow.”

She turns to walk slowly to the door. Turning at the entryway and watching you as you admire or maybe critique your looks in the mirror. "You look amazing and I know tonight will be perfect." She predicts with a wink. "Let me know if you are still up for brunch tomorrow or if you need some recovery time."

“There will be nothing to recover from.” Still, you shoo her toward the door playfully and smile when she worries her bottom lip between her teeth again but makes her way straight across the second floor hall, through the shortcut to Eddie’s room.

******

Max checks his suit, feeling slightly guilty that you are so worked up. Maybe he should have eased you into this. Maybe something more low key was what you are interested in. The flowers he had bought are already sitting in a vase, at Mrs. Taylor’s insistence, and he wonders if he should even give them to you.

Sitting down at your vanity, the clock says five minutes until you promised Max you would be ready and you line up your makeup and brushes with practiced precision. Nothing can or will go wrong tonight, you have told yourself over and over all day long. It is far too important. But the moment you look up at your mirror, your eyes connect with the carnival photo booth snapshot of you and your mother from when you were twelve years old, and you breathe a soft sigh. “You’d like him,” you promise your mother out loud. “He’s sweet. And doesn’t like it when I get in my own way. Which is…it’s a relief.”

Max decides that he will bring you the flowers. Every woman deserves romance, especially from her soulmate. He gives you another minute before he’s knocking on the door, not wanting to rush you, there’s plenty of time built into the night.

The knock is a nice gesture, given that you both know what tonight is and he knows you’re inside. Still, you exhale slowly and open your bedroom door exactly the same as if it had been the front door of your house that he was picking you up at. The suit he picked out is immaculate, with a crisp, clean shirt and no tie to make it a little less formal. And you had meant to compliment him when you opened the door. You really had. But all the comes out is a soft “Wow…” instead.

He chuckles, charmed by your honest reaction. “Is that for me or the flowers?” He asks, holding them up for you to see properly.

“Can it be both?” You ask, embarrassed to admit that you hadn’t even noticed the flowers until he held them up.

“I’ll take that.” He flashes you a grin before he slowly peruses your dress with appraisal.

“If you don’t like it, I can change.” The offer is immediate, unable to read his expression and figure out whether or not he approves of your borrowed dress.

"Don't you dare." He insists, frowning at the mere idea of you changing. "You look...stunning. I don't know if I should change. Make myself more presentable."

“More presentable?” Huffing at him even as you step aside to let him into your room for a moment, you just shake your head. “That suit would make Frank Sinatra jealous. You couldn’t possibly look more presentable.”

“I don’t know, sweetheart, have you looked in the mirror tonight?” He asks as he sets the flowers down and turns to you to take your hands and holds them wide to get a better look. “You are breathtaking and that’s saying something, coming from a vampire.”

“Allison let me borrow it,” you admit, feeling your cheeks heat almost uncontrollably at the compliment. “She, um…she helped me get ready. Now she’s going to spend some time with Eddie while we’re out.” It makes you feel less guilty to know neither of them will be lonely. The idea that your happiness comes last has been pervasive for a long time, but you’re trying to be cognizant of it. To shake it.

“Well, she needs to help you spend some of that money buying flirty, fun dresses like this to wear.” He hums. “Because I can see having regular dinner and dancing dates with you.”

“I’ll have to tell her you approve. And the flowers are beautiful, by the way.” The burst of red, orange, and yellow that now sits on your nightstand is brilliant, and you pick up your purse from beside it. “Are you ready to go?”

“Whenever you are, Queenie.” His hand hovers for a split second before resting on your lower back. Guiding you towards the door of your rooms. The door that he had left open to make sure you were comfortable. Just because he lives here doesn’t mean he will impose.

Shutting the door behind you and heading for the stairs, you can hear the soft sound of laughter from Eddie's room. It sounds like they're going to have a wonderful night ahead of them and you note with interest that even though you don't feel any warmth from Max's hand on our back there is still a solid presence there beside you. "How was work today?" Instead of dwelling, you turn all of your attention to Max, wanting to hear anything and everything he has to tell you about his workday.

“It was pretty good, I have a new line on another business deal. Hopefully it will pan out. What did you do besides worry about tonight?” He asks curiously.

He does have a point. You went panicking to Allison, after all. But you smile at the question anyway. "Mrs. Taylor and I nailed down the menu for the masquerade this morning."

“Oh really?” His brow shoots up and he grins. “And what will we be feasting on during the masquerade?”

"The menus that she had mocked up were seven, ten, and twelve courses." As much as you had respected the dedication to the Gilded Age theme, it had seemed a little too much to you and eventually you and your vampiric housekeeper had whittled the ideas down to the best of four courses. "It will be potato leek soup, a fish course with asparagus and hollandaise, chicken...something or other...I think she said it's called Lyonnaise? With mashed potatoes as the main course, and then champagne and strawberry cake for dessert that she said was Cookie's favourite. It felt like a nice way to pay tribute to her." Of course there was discussion of vegetarian options being needed, but when tickets are bought people will have the chance to indicate that they don't eat meat and then that bridge will be crossed when necessary.

“And I am assuming that there is an assortment of finger foods that will be served between dances?” He asks, amused by the dedication.

"According to Mrs. Taylor, it should be several different kinds of drinks and a few sweets to choose from on a buffet table in the dining room." The immense amount of work had shocked you when Mrs. Taylor had laid the whole thing out, but she assured you that she and Renee had everything in hand with just a little extra help from Mr. Taylor and Mr. Finchley. "Then, of course, there's the breakfast for whoever is still left at sunrise."

“This is going to be an amazing night for Newport.” He predicts. “Like nothing they’ve seen for years. I bet they will be clamoring for it to become an annual event.”

"Hopefully it's not too much on Mrs. Taylor and Renee. They're both very excited but it sounds like a whole lot of work to me." At the bottom of the stairs, Max opens the door for you and ushers you through with a smile. "If it becomes something annual I'm going to insist on having extra help for her next year. I know they're both...superhuman, but they shouldn't have to overdo it."

“You know they don’t even break a sweat, right?” He asks as he moves his hand from your back to offer his arm to escort you down the steps.

"They can still only do one thing at a time. Four people cooking for that many guests is a tall order for anyone." He acts like it's the most natural thing in the world to escort you down the front steps and out the front door like a perfect gentleman. Meanwhile you are all but swooning at his side over just the simple act of having an arm offered to you.

“That woman loves to care for people.” He reminds you with a chuckle. “I would say she lives for it, but we both know that’s not true.”

"She exists for it?" You offer with a soft chuckle.

“That’s the way to put it.” Max chuckles and opens the front door to show that his car has been brought forward. Waiting for you.

So far all you've done is walk to his car together but already you feel like a princess. Maybe the bar is set a little too low, or maybe he's doing all the right things — you really can't tell. What you do know, as Max closes the passenger side door and rounds the hood of his car in less than the blink of an eye to get in beside you, is that this is definitely how you always dreamed of dates starting out.

Max buckles his seatbelt and looks over at you with a slight smile. “Are you ready, Queenie?” He asks softly. “If you want to go home at any time, you let me know.”

He's being so gentle with you that it's heartbreaking and heartwarming all at once. The idea that you need to be handled with such a soft touch is a little embarrassing, but the fact that he is being so caring without any kind of request or even indication on your part is just...well, it's just about the sweetest thing you've ever heard in your life. "I'm okay," you promise him, reaching out to put your hand softly over his on the gear shift. "I know you heard me being anxious earlier, but I've been looking forward to this since you asked." And more than that, you've been looking forward to a first date with your soulmate for your entire life.

“Good.” Max hums, turning his hand so you can slide your fingers through his if you want. “I want you to enjoy yourself. There’s no expectations for tonight. No pressure. I just want you to have a night that we should have had ten years ago.”

"Ten years ago it would have been chicken wings and a jukebox in a bar." Which isn't a bad thing, but it isn't what you dreamed of. What you've dreamed of is much closer to this: your fingers fitting neatly through his as he pulls away from the house on your way to a beautiful dinner and a night of dancing. "Let's call tonight the...grown up version."

“The grown up version.” Max hums as he pulls out onto the street. “Well, it’s a good thing then. I wouldn’t have known how to dance then.” He reminds you. “Now I can waltz with you properly.”

“To be honest I never assumed my soulmate would be a dancer.” It’s a perk, obviously. And one that you hold very dear after so many years without dance in your life. But never something you considered mandatory. “It’s like the icing on a cake I already know I like.”

“I think that it’s complementary.” He agrees. “It’s something that we can do together. And neither one of us has to pretend to like it.”

“What else do you like to do?” Other than his work, and having a few things in common like reading and dancing, it occurs to you that you don’t know much about him.

Max smirks. “I like to play poker.” He admits. “There’s this monthly game I’m in. High stakes, pretty much a two day event.”

“High risk, high reward.” Just like his sales deals, you note. He’s mentioned some of them being for upwards of a few million dollars. “I can’t say I’ve ever been great at cards but I do like to play sometimes.”

“Maybe we can play sometime?” He offers. “There’s some lower stakes games, just for fun.”

“I used to play poker for M&Ms with my Dad,” you admit, smiling at the memory. “Any game can be lower stakes if you let it.”

He chuckles, knowing that is true and refrains from offering to play strip poker. “What else did you do with your dad?”

“He liked to paint.” It’s been a long time since you’ve talked about your parents to anyone, but since coming to Newport your family and your past has seemed more relevant than ever. Almost like they had gone on a terribly long vacation instead of being violently ripped from you the summer before you started college. “He would take me to art museums and was the only Dad in my Mommy and Me Painting Class when I was little. We’d play card games and board games and plan all the trips around the world that we would take when I got older.” The last memory makes you shrug, eyes cast down at the floor of Max’s sports car. “We never got to take any of the trips we planned, but it was a fun way to pass a rainy day. It made me think for a while that I could be a travel agent when I grew up.”

“I’m sorry that you didn’t get to travel.” Max tells you quietly, wishing he had some memories like that with his parents. Maybe it would have made it easier when he was alone. But he doubts it. “You should travel.” He tells you. “Go all the places you planned with him. A remembrance trip once a year maybe.”

“I’m not very good at being alone.” Maybe it’s why you stayed with Derek so long. Maybe it isn’t. You can’t be too sure either way, but you know that being lonely is one of your least favourite feelings in the world. “But maybe I’ll try. If…there isn’t someone to come with me, I mean.”

“You don’t have to be alone, Queenie.” Max promises. “There’s your coven, I’m sure any one of them would love to go on a trip with you. Eddie loves to travel and of course, I will go wherever you wanted anytime.”

"You say 'of course' like it's the easiest thing in the world." Your fingers curl around his palm instinctively, afraid to let go of him now that you're allowed to be close in any small way. "But it...it means everything."

“You are my soulmate.” He stresses quietly. “Even if platonic soulmates was all you wanted, I would want to spend time with you.”

"It's not." He's pulled up to a stoplight on Bellevue, and even though your voice is quiet, it's sure. You're just not quite strong enough to look up at him while you say it. "It's...not at all what I want. I just need you to be patient with me. While I...I don't know...figure out how to not be so scared anymore."

“I have eternity.” He reminds you with a grin, wishing he could banish the sadness and fear in your eyes. “And you can have that too.”

"That's a very big offering considering it's only our first date." Trying for a little bit of humor — to lift your own spirits as well as his — you squeeze his hand again when the light turns and he pulls through the intersection. "Let's see how we feel about living in the same house and dancing together and maybe we'll talk about eternity after that. Sound good?"

He squeezes your hand gently. “That sounds like a good idea. Sometimes I get ahead of myself.” He winks before he looks back at the road.

******

It takes a whole six minutes to get from the front gate of Chateau-sur-Mer to the White Horse Tavern, according to the clock on the dashboard of Max's Lexus, and when he pulls into the parking lot the place seems to be completely full to the brim. There's no loud music or bright lights like you might have expected at some place called a tavern, but instead there are people in very smart clothes streaming in and out of the building alternately — and once you're inside there are white tablecloths and lovely candles on every table.

“Now you see why I thought of this place.” He murmurs in your ear, his hand on your back again. Not possessive, but protective. Guiding you up to the host stand. “Reservation for Phillips, table for two.” He responds slightly smug when asked for his name. He is smug about having you here, proud that this date is happening. Eager to learn more about his pretty soulmate.

"Right this way." The hostess smiles politely and leads the way, bringing the two of you to a table in the corner surrounded by other chattering couples on dates enjoying the warm glow of romantic candlelight.

As soon as you are seated, the sommelier comes over. “Good evening.” He smiles charmingly. “May I interest you in our vast selection of reds?” He asks, aware that this reservation includes a vampire who would be wanting a glass of their blood infused wine. Without even looking at you, Max shakes his head. “No thank you.” He hums. “My soulmate and I do not drink.” Even if you had said you are okay with it, Max is aware that anything resembling alcohol could stress you and that’s the last thing he wants tonight.

"Max." His hand is on the table and you put yours on top of it, giving it a squeeze like you did in the car. "It's okay. I promise." What he needs to sustain him and what you need are two vastly different things, and you are not going to be the reason that he skips having blood with this meal and ends up...weak or sick or whatever happens to vampires when they don't get enough blood.

He shakes his head seriously. “I was an asshole at the beginning about it.” He admits. “I didn’t know and there are are options here, just like Mrs. Taylor’s menus for us.”

“…very sweet of you.” Only the end of the sentence is really audible, mostly because you’re so dumbfounded by the idea that he is putting you before and above himself. In your whole life, maybe only your parents have ever done that for you.

The sommelier just gives a confused smile and nods, drifting away from the table. “I didn’t embarrass you, did I?” Max asks, frowning at the shock on your face. He had hoped you would appreciate his gesture, and he wasn’t doing it to show off, he genuinely wanted you to feel comfortable tonight with him.

“Not at all.” The slightly misty look on your face is from how touched you are at the gesture. “I just…you know I’m not used to anyone doing things for me. Emotionally, I mean. Or any other way. I still feel like apologizing every time Mrs. Taylor makes a meal or Renee makes clean clothes magically appear in my room. But you…” With a soft sigh and shake of your head, you offer him a smile. One where you actually manage to look him in the eyes. “I always thought I would be the one taking care of my soulmate with whatever he needed. But you’re the one taking care of me.”

He wants to chuckle, but he can’t. Now when your eyes practically hypnotize him. He’s never felt a pull like that and he shakes his head slowly. “We take care of each other.” He reminds you, “head scratches?”

“Are you asking or reminding?” Either way, the smile on your face gets broader and you can feel that growing familiar feeling of warmth in your cheeks.

“Reminding you.” He grins back at you and winks. “It’s probably the most relaxed I’ve ever gotten as a vampire.”

“Then we’ll have to make it a regular thing.” You can promise him that. The seemingly little promises mean so much when they all stack up together.

“That would be nice, but only if you enjoy it as well.” He knows that you might just agree to keep him happy and that’s the last thing he wants.

"Do I enjoy sitting with my soulmate's head in my lap, seeing him terribly relaxed while I read a book or we watch tv together?" This time when you laugh it's just one huffed chuckle, and it's in near disbelief. "Honestly? It might be the closest to bliss I've been in years."

He smiles at that, squeezing your hand again. “Good.” He hums, nodding towards your menu. “Take a look and see what you want to eat, Queenie, we have dancing later on.”

You don't even have to ask to know that he'll be ordering steak tonight, and as rare as possible. The habit makes perfect sense to you now and you'll never say another word about it. The menu is high-end gourmet and apparently all locally sourced from the list of farms on the bottom of the menu, and for a moment you feel tremendously out of place again until you glance up to find Max smiling at you. And that one little act, that seemingly coincidental timing and easy gesture, has another layer of anxiety and fear slipping away from your heart as easily as water drips down a window. "I've discovered I like duck," you confide after a few minutes of looking over the options. "I had never had it before, but Mrs. Taylor is a miracle worker. Do you think theirs will be as good as hers?"

“Doubtful.” He snorts, shaking his head. “Not unless Mrs. Taylor is moonlighting as the chef here.” He jokes. “She has been to practically every chef’s school in the world in her lifetime.”

“She should be teaching at them. Or opening one of her own.” You know, though, that she would never be as happy teaching as she is taking care of people. It’s a lovely thought, though.

“Never happen.” He promises. “Mrs. Taylor is vowed, willingly—” he adds because he knows you might think otherwise. “— to serve your family line for eternity.”

“She’ll be free to do whatever she wants soon enough, then,” you remind him gently. “We’re not exactly going to be populating that house with little half-vamps.”

“Except you can have an absurdly long life, even as a human.” He points out, sure you haven’t even thought about it.

“I—” Technically, he’s correct. You could have as long a life as Cookie did or even longer. But you can’t even fathom that he would want to spend months or years with you, let along decades or centuries. “That is…something we’ll talk about together. You and I.”

“Okay.” He won’t push, it’s just the first date, after all. Instead of continuing on the same vein, he looks around the tavern. “So, who do you think is a vampire?” He asks playfully.

“Hmmm.” A game is definitely something you can get behind, and you look around the crowded dining room full of well dressed patrons with the air of someone who knows exactly what they’re looking for instead of just being the clueless little human that you are. “I’m going to say…” your eyes fall on an impeccably well-dressed man in an elaborate suit and his pale dinner companion in her lace dress. “Those two. Aaand…the table of four over by the fireplace. I think the girl is introducing her new beau to her sires.”

Max lifts a brow, impressed by the fact that you have clock that correctly. “Good eyes.” He chuckles. “The two are, she’s a baby vamp, too.”

“It turns out that once I realized I was surrounded by vamps, it got easier to see the differences.” There is also a particular, peculiar way that they hold themselves — that all vampires seem to hold themselves. As if they have innumerable secrets. And the older they are, the more secrets they accumulate. Which, you suppose, must be true after a point.

“Really?” That makes him sit up slightly. “What differences?”

“I don’t know if I can describe it properly.” For a moment you pause, when the waiter arrives to bring you both water and ask if you’d like an appetizer. Max orders the specialty charcuterie board and you have to imagine that there are raw things involved for him as well as the regular cheeses and spreads for humans. “It’s like…your shoulders are always a little straighter. Your gaze is more direct. And there’s something…I dunno…elegant? Maybe? In the way you all move. Like it takes so much less effort or you’ve maximized the economy of all of those movements somehow. I can’t describe it properly.”

He smirks slightly and leans in. “We are elegant?” He asks, intrigued by the fact that you are not scared. Perhaps even enjoying that he is a vampire.

“Of course you are elegant, but I didn’t notice until after that you all sort of…have a certain grace.” Shrugging self-consciously, you do notice that he doesn’t let your hand slip away from his on the table. “It probably sounds funny,” you murmur in defeat.

“It doesn’t. It’s actually— I think it might be the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.” He confesses. “People always say ‘you’re hot’ or ‘I want you’ but no one ever tells me I’m elegant.”

“You are hot.” The admission comes with screaming hot cheeks and eyes trained back down at the table, but it’s true. “I thought so the first time I saw you…”

There’s a hint of heat in his smirk, not nearly as play—boyish as it might have once been. “Glad you thought I was hot.” He hums proudly. “Sexual attraction is key to a healthy romantic relationship.”

“And you’ll always look that way.” It’s not a fun thought to have, but you’ve had it twice already. He will always be young and handsome, and you will inevitably get old — even if you choose long life it will still happen eventually.

He snorts. “We age just not as fast as humans do.” He admits.

“So slowly that it’s imperceptible?” It’s a guess, but you nod your head in understanding. “I’ll get everything down eventually, I promise. This is all still…just days’ old information to me.”

“I don’t expect you to be an expert, sweetheart.” Max tuts. “Hell, I’m still learning about vampires.” He flashes you a grin. “And I’ve been one a lot longer than days.”

"What do you like about it?" You ask, looking at your connected hands before you look back up at him. "There must be something you like about the change."

“Smell is better, hearing is better.” Max shrugs slightly. “I’m a better version of myself.” He snort slightly. “The no need for sleep helped when getting my MBA.”

“It certainly gives you more time to get things done.” Thinking on it for even a second though, you laugh a little. “If I had had that in college I think I would’ve done twice as many competitions and probably added a second major, just because I could.”

He chuckles and winks at you, “That’s my girl.” He hums fondly, not even thinking about it until it comes out of his mouth, but you are his girl.

Finding it fond instead of possessive — as the comment would have been from the last person who might have bothered to call you such a thing — hearing it from Max actually makes you proud. Maybe neither of you is perfect, but you seem to fit together in all the right ways. Maybe that's all that soulmates are, ultimately. Just two people — or in this case a witch and a vampire — who fit together just right.

The meal is ordered and it’s a delightful surprise that there’s no lull in the conversation. Beyond ballroom dancing, at your core, your values match up. At least, Max’s values now, after the incident with Evan. Shockingly enough, he tells you about it.

"I can't believe that's even possible." The ordeal with his former friend, roommate, and coworker aside, the way Max describes what was basically his return from complete obliteration is just wild. "It sounds like...like magic...if I'm honest. Your sire managed to bring you back from...nothing." From his description, he was less than a undead body at that point. Something terrifying to imagine and terrible to contemplate. The idea that your soulmate could have been completely lost to you isn't exactly knew considering you thought it was dead, but knowing the truth makes it feel even more terrible. "If I ever meet your sire, I'm going to have to thank him."

“I have no doubt you will.” Max wonders when the old man will reveal himself to you. What his end game is. He always had one, that’s certain. “I am starting to figure out why I was brought back.”

"You think he had an ulterior motive?" You would think it would be enough just to be able to save his family, but you don't really know how loyal vampiric families are to each other.

“Absolutely.” His answer is instantaneous. Resolute. While he doesn’t know the details of why he was brought back, he had been for one reason.

"You're very certain of that." Which does, you admit, surprise you. "I take it he's not a sharing kind of guy? He didn't clue you in on why?"

“My sire is…an enigma.” Max admits, almost fondly. He has often been envious of the elder vampire’s flair and mystique. “He is legendary among vampires and I’m not so certain he doesn’t divulge information because it is his nature or as a way to play into his reputation.”

"Maybe it's both?" The two of you are still sitting at the table with intertwined hands even after your demolished appetizer has been cleared away. It's so unexpectedly sweet that it makes you feel a little bit...gooey. Like you might melt right into your plush upholstered seat. "Maybe the reputation came because he has a little flair for the dramatic, and now he just likes to play into it and keep it going? You said he's quite old now, right? Maybe it amuses him."

“Yes. That is probably a lot of it.” He agrees. “You will like him I think.”

"Are you saying I have a flair for the dramatic?" Raising one eyebrow and shooting him a grin, you can't help but smile along with him. You did, once, have a wicked dramatic side. Inherited from your mother and dearly cherished. It was an endless source of amusement.

“You ballroom dance and you love reality tv shows.” He snorts playfully. “Of course you have a flair for the dramatic. I can’t wait to see you show out at the masquerade.”

"If you think I'm bad with Dancing with the Stars, wait until you see me on a 90 Day Fiancé binge." That really only happens when you hit your cycle, but it's still a sight to see — you tucked up in your bed under three blankets with a bowl of popcorn and a box of tissues crying about love is just...a side of you that you normally keep hidden. But somehow you have a feeling that Max would understand.

“Yeah? Who’s your favorite couple?” Max asks curiously. “I like Angela and Mike, but sometimes she’s toooo much, you know what I mean?” He spends a lot of nights binge watching things, since it’s not like he sleeps and unfortunately, not many human businessmen work after midnight.

The way you just stare at him is nearly comical, like your brain hasn’t quite caught up with you yet, and when it finally goes you realize your mouth has been open and you snap it shut like the little boy from Mary Poppins. “I guess I really shouldn’t be surprised,” you huff, laughing softly at your own reaction. “We should have things in comments. Soulmates and all that…”

“Babe, I’m also a little dramatic shit.” He confesses with a chuckle. “I mean, who really changes into a bat to spend time with someone because your over-the-top douchbaggery has made them uncomfortable, but you’re intrigued by them?” He asks, making it seem like he is the total asshole he believes he is.

“That’s…pretty true.” And it draws another laugh from you just imagining the thought process he went through to even think of doing it in the first place. “I have to admit, though. It made me feel like the missing goth Disney Princess and I kind of loved that.”

“I’m happy to make that secret fantasy come true.” He grins, nearly beaming proudly at the idea of sparking some inner desire. “And as a bat, I can actually sleep?”

“Compacting a big vampire into a tiny bat body must take a lot of effort.” Or, at least, you imagine it does. It’s more or less breaking the known laws of physics, after all.

“It does.” Max admits with a slight shrug. He will minimize the idea of the energy it expels because he doesn’t want you to ever feel bad for wanting the bat to cuddle.

“Well, you only need to worry about all that energy when you want to, now,” you insist, being respectfully nonspecific because you can see the waiter approaching your table with your dinners. “You never need to be anything besides yourself with me.”

“I appreciate that.” He wonders if you are so accepting and accommodating because of the past relationship or if it was just you. “I hope you’re hungry, this place is supposed to have amazing food.”

It would be cheesy or clingy or just too much to tell him that you’re actually disappointed the food is here because you have to stop holding his hand. You sit back though, politely thanking the waiter and letting your mouth water over how good everything looks and smells when your plates are set down. “Thank you for this,” you murmur when the waiter has gone again, looking tentatively back toward Max’s face. “We didn’t have to do anything at all and knowing you’re my soulmate would have already made the time we spend together special. But this is…it’s really beautiful. And I’ll never forget it.”

“We haven’t even gotten to the best part of the night.” He promises with a small wink. “Before I’m through with you, your body will be sore and you’ll be breathless.” It sounds dirty, but he’s talking about dancing.

“Max.” Your cheeks burn at the innuendo but you can’t even pretend to dislike the feeling. For the first time in…maybe years, you’re free to let yourself enjoy life. And that’s all thanks to him. Let night really might be the first time you’ve considered masturbating in longer than you would like to admit. And that is thanks to Max, too.

“What?” He tuts playfully, fully aware that your heartbeat has sped up. “Dancing should make you sore and breathless if you’re doing it right.”

“Sure.” But the thought is there, and the playful, bubbly, flirtatious woman that you used to be a long time ago floats the surface unchecked. “Dancing definitely does that,” you agree, tucking a smirk into the corner of your mouth.

“So many dances.” He likes that you are flirting back. Your eyes are practically sparkling with mischief and it’s miles apart from the scared mouse he had met when you arrived. “Tango, waltz, horizontal hustle, foxtrot.” He ticks them off on his fingers like he’s doing down a list.

The mention of horizontal hustle warms you through with a flush of embarrassment and — admittedly — arousal and you pick up your fork very properly without the smirk ever leaving your face. “The girls I danced with always called it ‘getting a new tango partner’ when they started seeing someone new. Slightly more discreet of them, considering our teachers were mostly prim middle-aged ladies.”

He hums, amused by the phrase and he runs his tongue over his teeth, toying with his incisor. “It’s allllll in the hips.”

It shouldn’t be sexy, the way you know for a fact that his teeth are certified weapons and he is just casually running his tongue over them…it makes you wonder just what his tongue might feel like running over other things. “Hips,” you hum, watching him lick his lips subtly. You can’t tell if he did it on purpose or not but it’s distracting as all hell. “I’ll remember that.”

“You do that, Queenie.” He winks at you and scoops up his fork to steal a bite of your food from your plate. He’s not going to eat it. God no, it’s too cooked for his liking, but he turns the fork around and offers you the bite. “Tell me how it tastes.” Despite not liking human food now, he misses the tastes of things.

He can absolutely hear your pulse, there’s no way he can’t when it’s pounding in your ears like a hammer. But putting your lips around his fork is perilously close to put your lips around something else of his and you close your eyes against just how tantalizing that thought is when you’re seemingly getting your sex drive back all at once.

He bites his lip when you moan, taking the bite of food. Sure that you are completely unaware of how erotic it sounds. Knowing that you aren’t trying to entice him, but just like that natural curiosity to know more about you, that attraction is something he’s helpless against. All he can do is control his reaction.

“I know you’re not big on this kind of food anymore, but that’s fantastic.” You tell him, letting the flavour linger on your tastebuds happily. Truly good food is such a luxury that you have a hard time imagining giving it up, but that’s just you.

“I used to love all kinds of food.” Max admits with a guilty grin. “Favorite thing was trying new restaurants. New foods.”

“I hate that that isn’t fun for you anymore.” To lose one of life’s simple pleasures is a shame, even if the tradeoff has many more benefits.

“It’s okay.” Max hums slightly. “I can taste what the human donor has eaten through their blood.” He admits with a grin. “Although it’s a little muted since the blood is chilled and reheated.”

“So…if it was warm from the source…it would be better?” Trying to understand the logistics of his vampirism is going to be key for you, and that means even the parts that don’t seem very savory to talk about.

“Yeah.” He shrugs slightly. “I don’t look for donors anymore.” He explains. “If someone were to offer? I might would have taken them up on it before the other night, but I wouldn’t now.”

“Is it…” As the two of you start to eat in earnest, it almost feels like the conversation should have trended this way. You are, after all, talking about his survival. “Is it a very…meaningful connection? Is that why?”

“It’s….” He pauses for a moment. “Intimate. Almost sensual to the point of turning sexual.” He looks at you intently, his eyes drilling into yours and he hopes that doesn’t offend you. “There’s nothing more intimate than taking a part of someone into your own body, right?”

“I suppose I never thought of it like that before.” Before a few days ago you had honestly never given it much thought at all, but knowing what you know now? You spend almost all of your thoughts on the subject.

“It doesn’t hurt much.” He promises, thinking you might be worried about donors. “Just a sharp pinch and then it feels good. But I won’t be drinking from anyone, I think that’s not fair when you have a soulmate.”

“It’s really that intimate?” From what he’s said, it suddenly makes much more sense to you why people would succumb to the feeling quickly, and you nod when he looks at you meaningfully. “If it’s something I’m ever going to consider, I want to know about it,” you explain. “That’s all.”

“I would never ask.” He doesn’t want you to feel like he expecting you to become his meal plan. “I hope you know that.”

******

Dinner passes with slightly lighter conversation, where you learn that you both like fall and winter better than spring and summer, and that Max used to love cookies more than anything other dessert.

The dance studio that you go to is run by a very sweet woman called Miss Valerie — who apparently named the studio for herself — and is full of all sorts of different people when you and Max are ushered into the main studio for free dancing. A laptop in the corner is playing a personalized playlist and there is a card table with drinks and snacks in a different corner which looked like some people had added to upon their arrivals. It was a night of chit chat — as soon as people heard about the masquerade they instantly wanted to know every detail — but it was fun, too. Max stayed by your side, talking up the masquerade and excusing you from conversation to dance a little more when he sensed you getting nervous.

Dancing with Max might be even better now that you know he’s your soul mate. His gentleness and steady presence leading you through every dance is mixed with so much care that you could just about cry, but there is a mounting otherness in every touch that can only be compared to the first time you allowed yourself to explore any kind of sexuality. Like you’re waking up, and instead of curiosity being what drives your own fingers in the night, it will be the memory of hearing Max’s voice in your ear or feeling his touch on your skin. He had even lifted you a few times in certain dances and it was the most literal sweeping off your feet you could ever possibly contemplate. By the time he pulls into the driveway it’s so late that you’ve lost track of the hour completely but you know you’re going to keep holding his hand until the very last second.

“I think I’ve kept Cinderella out past midnight.” Max teases as he cuts the engine. “But lucky me, you haven’t turned into a pumpkin yet.”

“No.” There’s a note of bashfulness in the way you shake your head, even though you feel bolder tonight than you have in years. “I wouldn’t dare. How could I dance with you again if I was a pumpkin?”

He grins, his teeth flashing white in the darkness of the car. “That would be such a shame, Queenie.”

“It really would be.” Dancing with Max had been like floating on water, and your face burns with pleasure and embarrassment remembering even half an hour ago.

“Would you like to keep dancing?” He asks, bringing your hand to his lips. Anyone else, it would be an innuendo for something else, but with you, he’s asking if you want him to take you to the ballroom. He had loved every second of you being in his arms and of dancing was the only way, he would dance all night.

“Am I a sissy if I admit I’m tired?” Still, your fingers tingle under the press of his lips, and knowing what you now do about his exceptional hearing means you’re sure he heard you hold your breath. “I haven’t danced that much in years and my feet aren’t as calloused as they used to be. But—” The thought is there. The intent. But you can’t quite bring yourself to form the words right away. It’s like you don’t trust yourself. Which, to be fair, you don’t.

“Not a sissy,” he huffs slightly at your ease of insulting yourself. “Human.” He reminds you that he might have the ability to stay up indefinitely, but you do not. “But?”

“I was…” It feels silly to admit it, but you would be horribly sad if the night ended here. Having him close feels like a missing piece of yourself has slid into place. “Going to ask if you wanted to come upstairs,” you admit quietly. “But that’s silly. You live here. Hell…your room is right next to mine.”

Max tilts his head, tsking slightly. “Queenie, you never need to feel silly talking to me. You meant come to your room, didn’t you?” He asks quietly, squeezing your hand gently.

“I don’t want tonight to be over yet.” His hand around yours is cool and comforting, but there’s an electricity in it that is so old that it must have been called something far different before it was called a spark.

“It doesn’t have to be.” Max smiles at the shyness in your tone, the mere embarrassment. “How about this? Why don’t I make you a cup of my famous hot chocolate while you change into something causal, and I’ll meet you upstairs?” He asks, lifting a brow.

His knack for the exact right gesture is something you’re learning isn’t accidental. The effort he is putting into spending time with you is very intentional, and makes you feel like the single most special person in the entire world. “I’ll find a book that is less than a hundred years old, just in case. How about that?”

“Whatever you want to read, sweetheart.” He promises, happy that he had phrased it correctly. He doesn’t want you thinking he assumes you’re going to sleep with him. “But first, I need to walk you to the door.” In the blink of an eye, he’s out of the car and around to your side, opening it up for you to climb out.

“I’ll never get used to that.” You’ve seen him do it now five or six times and it takes your breath away without fail. This time, though, the thing taking your breath might also be the soft smile on his face as you put your hand in his and let him lift you effortlessly out of the car.

“It’s handy.” He admits with a chuckle, closing the door behind you and turning to walk up the front steps. “I’ll be able to change into some sweats after making your hot chocolate too.”

“Does this count as post-gaming our own date?” Leaving his car behind to walk up to the house, your hand stays in his and you lean slightly into his side just on instinct. He feels so safe and you can’t possibly put into words how grateful you are for that.

“More like a casual continuation. The wind down, if you will.” He enjoys your warmth, humming softly at the feeling. You have seemed more comfortable around him as the night has gone on and Max deserve brownie points for ignoring the whiffs of arousal he’s detected.

"I like that." You also like the way he almost sounds like he's purring when he hums, but maybe that's your imagination. Remembering the little sounds he would make in bat form. "I like the idea of being able to share all the versions of ourselves."

Max opens the door to the house, hearing a sound from Eddie’s room that makes him smirk. “If you can’t share everything with your soulmate, who can you share them with?”

"What is it?" His question was rhetorical, you know that, but he looks amused and his eyes darted away from you for a second before coming back.

“Allison is still here.” He tells you, putting his finger to his lips like it’s a secret.

"And she claimed Eddie wasn't as interested as she is." You shake your head at that as if the two of you were some wise old mentors finding out your protégés had finally taken your advice. "I guess tonight was a good date night for everyone in the house, then."

Max winks at you as he closes the door behind the two of you. “Like to think ours was better.” He teases. “Now, go take those shoes off, Queenie and I’ll make your hot chocolate. If you’re lucky, I might even be talked into a foot rub for your dance sore feet.”

"I would never make you do that." More than half your life in ballet, ballroom, and jazz classes means that your feet are...not exactly going to end up in shoe ads any time soon. But it's sweet of him to offer, and you squeeze his hand before you let it go. "I'm going to go up and change. You can just come on in when you're ready."

“I’ll knock, just to make sure you aren’t still changing.” He promises with a wink before he zips off to the kitchen.

You deftly avoid Eddie's room as you go upstairs, going the long way to your room all the way across the house before you hang your sweater and release yourself from your shoes — much to the relief of your aching feet. Despite the small pain, though, you wouldn't change anything about tonight. Your dress is exchanged for a favourite t-shirt, worn thin from constant use and sporting the logo of a theme park that you went to with a bunch of friends in college when you all decided that you just needed to get away for the weekend. It hangs long on your torso, skimming past the edge of your yoga pants, and you wipe off your makeup before getting into bed with a copy of a murder mystery by Alyssa Maxwell that was most definitely published in the twenty-first century.

Max hears you settle down and is at your door in an instant. He had made the hot chocolate quickly and of course changed before you had finished your nightly routine, waiting until you were done. Two light taps on the door is the knock he gives, waiting for you to answer before he turns the knob.

"Come in." The door is just feet from your bed, and when he cracks it open he's dressed in a plain t-shirt and sweatpants with a steaming mug in his hands. "Hey." As soft as it is on your lips, it's mostly out of surprise. Max is always immaculately dressed, and the revelation that he even owns a t-shirt is a pretty big deal. Not to mention the way his broad shoulders stretch the faric, or the way his gray sweatpants (bearing a small embossed collegiate logo near the pocket) hang onto his trim hips, which is wickedly distracting.

“Hey you.” He slips inside and closes the door with a grin. “You look comfy as can be in that bed.” He teases. “Is there room for me?”

"It's a big bed." Knowing that he won't pressure you gives you an immense feeling of relief, and the boldness to actually invite him in like this. You haven't even kissed yet. There is no way you would go all the way to sex tonight. But this closeness? You're craving it. "I'm pretty sure I can fit you in here. Might have to cuddle, though."

“I’ve been told I’m pretty good at cuddling.” He hands you the mug of hot chocolate and barely resists the urge to jump into the bed.

“I’m going to be spoiled forever if you keep making me this cocoa,” you warn him, ready to take the first sip despite the steam still pouring off the mug from underneath the perfect swirl of whipped cream. “That coffeeshop should be crying over losing you, if this is what you were doing as a barista.”

“I learned that girls love a perfect hot chocolate, but also, I loved one.” He laughs as he settles down beside you. “I’ll make you one every night if you want. I actually kind of miss making coffees and things like that. It was fun and easy.”

"I would have been in that shop every single day," you admit. The first sip of cocoa is just cool enough to take, and it rolls through you like a warm hug in the very best way. "For..." Bubbling just beneath the surface, a smile spreads across your lips that you just can't contain. "For more than just the cocoa."

“I knew it.” He crows, leaning in with a triumphant look on his face. He puts his lips just a bare millimeter away from your ear. “A whipped cream junky.”

Your breath catches like it always does when he gets so close to you, and your eyes flick up to his as you all but hide your face behind the mug in your hands. "Right..." you nod slightly in agreement, but when the smile returns to your lips it morphs into shaking your head 'no' and your tone dips to teasing. "Whipped cream. That's it."

“Indulgent, creamy….” He’s teasing you, maybe himself a little as well, but he loves the way your heart skitters slightly. It reminds him of a bird being startled, except this is a joyful thing. “Satisfying. What’s not to love?”

"You're incorrigible," you observe with a pleased grin, knowing full well that you have done nothing but encourage him tonight. It's the best night — let alone best date — you've had in ages. And that's so much of why you're not ready for it to end. This is the side of Max that you always want to have with you.

“Confident.” He corrects you with a grin of his own. “Cocky, maybe even a little conceited.”

"Filling in the gaps where I have no self-confidence of my own." In many ways you really are a balancing point to each other. He lifts you up and you ground him. It keeps you interested to see what he'll do next and you can only hope that it gives him a place to feel relaxed with you. Like he can let down his guard with you. "I think...if you want to...we should go back to that studio again next week." They had invited you both eagerly, and Miss Valerie herself had loudly mentioned having a spot on their competition team for another couple if they ever found anyone who was interested. If you were ever going to pin a number onto your dress again, you would want it to be with him. His over-confidence seems to be rubbing off on you, at least a little, and giving you another nudge toward boldness. "I really loved dancing with you tonight."

“It would be unfair really,” Max hums. “To deprive them of our presence. Our talent from the dance floor.” Part of it is an adopted act of confidence, but there is something magical about dancing with you. It’s easier than any other partner he’s ever had. “So I don’t think we should. Deprive them. Give the couples something to aspire to.”

The giggle that he pulls out of you is probably the closest to effervescent that you've ever managed. There is something about the way you feel when his attention is on you that is undeniable. When Max's focus is on you, the rest of the world falls away. "I wouldn't be surprised if it's more jealousy than aspiration," you tell him honestly, taking another sip of your drink. "I'll have the most handsome partner in the room."

He can’t help but preen slightly. “It helps when your partner is the most gorgeous creature you’ve ever laid eyes on.” He murmurs sincerely. Since meeting you, getting to know you, you’ve gone from pretty to stunning in his eyes.

"That's sweet of you." As much as you want to believe that he's telling you what he believes to be the truth, it's so hard to wrap your head around. There has been far too much of your life spent being told all the things that were wrong with you that it feels impossible to believe that someone like Max could find you beautiful. But gods...you want to.

He groans quietly, closing his eyes and dropping his forehead to your shoulder. He should pull away, but your warmth is too intoxicating. “Queenie, I have a confession to make.” He whispers.

Here it is. Steeling yourself for the inevitable rejection you know that you deserve, you put your mug on the table beside your bed without unsettling his forehead. You'll make yourself the smallest presence possible in his life. You'll stop the formal dinners and just let him forget you even live in the same house if he doesn't decide to move out altogether. And you'll sure as fuck wait until he's gone to cry the tears that are already pressing at the back of your eyes. "What is it?" You don't want to ask the question, but you have to. The way your heart is already sinking tells you right away how much this is going to hurt.

He hates that your tone has changed, your body has shifted slightly. He wonders if he should have even opened his mouth, but he wanted to be honest with you. Pulling back slightly, he looks at you with a sense of anger at himself for being so unable to control himself. “I want to kiss you.”

"What?" Pushed out on a single breath, it feels like all the air has been knocked out of you all at once and your eyes blow wide when you look up at him.

“I told myself I wouldn’t push you, and I’m not.” He promises quickly. “I would never push you for anything you aren’t ready for, but I can’t help but think about it and if you want me to leave or move to the chair so I don’t make you uncomfortable, I will.”

"Please don't." Immediately reaching for him, your hand lands on his arm and your fingers squeeze, keeping him close even when you feel like your heart is going to pound out of your chest and you might forget how to breathe. "Don't like don't move away from me. Not don't like don't kiss me. I—" You might vibrate straight out of the bed in disbelief. "I really want to kiss you, too."

“You do?” Despite flirting, Max hadn’t considered that you might actually want to kiss him.

"I was getting ready for you to tell me that you wanted to end this before it started." Which feels terrible to admit, but you want to be honest with him. "Honestly, I...sort of figured you would have been able to...to smell how much I want to kiss you?"

Biting his lip, he considers lying to you, but he nods. “Just because you’re body is telling me yes, doesn’t mean your mind is.” He murmurs quietly, laying a hand on your arm and rubbing it gently. “I was a fucking horndog in the past, but I know boundaries.”

"I don't know how much else I'm ready for." Your hand covers his on your arm long enough to feel the difference between your burning skin and his cooler body, before your hand moves tentatively up his arm. Being allowed to touch him while you're dancing is so very different from touching him in your bed. "But I know I'm ready for this."

Max slides an arm under your body to pull you closer, shifting slightly so both of you are laying on your sides facing each other. “Queenie,” he leans in and nudges his nose against yours, eyes watching you closely. “May I kiss you?”

"Yes. Please." As far as enthusiastic consent goes, you really can't be more explicit and you don't want to just jump the gun and kiss him without answering. Lying in his arms in your bed is the last place you expected this to happen, but now that you're here it's like a dream.

He licks his lips, wetting them as his eyes flicker down to yours. Somewhere between your first sip and now, your cocoa has been pushed onto the nightstand and he can hold you without fear of spilling something hot all over you. “Good.” He murmurs, leaning in to take in your scent, mouthwatering and thick like ambrosia, before he lowers his mouth to yours.

______

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Betrayal; Brynjolf

When Karliah appears back at the Thieves Guild after Mercer has informed them of Y/N's death, Brynjolf is quick to see red.

Spoilers for the Thieves Guild questline.

Brynjolf was a thief, there was no doubt about it. Thievery was in his blood, and always had been. Unattached, flirtatious, and talented at what he did, that was how most people would describe him, yet there was always someone who saw him differently.

Y/N, the latest addition to the thieves guild, was recruited by Brynjolf a few months ago now and the pair became fast friends. Having been the one to recruit and train her, Brynjolf knew a lot about the woman, including her distrust of those around her.

It took Y/N a while to open up to Brynjolf, for reasons unbeknownst to him. Naturally, he assumed there was something in her past, a lover, perhaps? Brynjolf didn’t like the way that thought made him feel, so he did what he did best and ignored it. He didn’t have feelings for her, he couldn’t…

So why did he feel so depressed when Mercer told him how Karliah had killed the woman in cold blood? Why did he lock himself away for days on end? Surely it was just a friend thing, right? He totally didn’t regret not telling her how he felt. Why would he?

“You better have a good reason for coming here, Karliah.” Brynjolf spat, being held back from attacking by Rune. “I should kill you where you stand.”

“It was not I who betrayed the guild,” she spoke softly, sensing Brynjolf’s anger.

“That is not what I am talking about,” he raged, freeing himself from Rune’s grasp and flying towards Karliah, only to be grabbed once again.

“She is telling the truth, Bryn,”

That voice…? It can’t be, surely.

“Y/N!?” Brynjolf immediately sprung backwards, holding the speaker at arm’s length. “You’re alive? Mercer said-“

“Mercer tried to kill me, Brynjolf. You’ve been lied to this whole time. Karliah saved my life.” She spoke quietly as she stared into Brynjolf’s erratic eyes.

He couldn’t believe that she was here in front of him. Mercer said that she had been killed, yet here she stood with Karliah, claiming that Mercer – the man who he trusted more than anything – had betrayed them.

There was no doubt that Y/N had been injured, the way she stood was enough proof of that, but by Mercer? That was not possible… So why did he trust her more than Mercer?

A sudden tug on his hand pulled Brynjolf from his thoughts. “Listen to her, Bryn. For me.”

He could never deny her anything.

And so he listened to Karliah. Every single word she spoke angered him and made him resent Mercer. His hand was still in Y/N’s, and he never wanted to let go, squeezing it gently to calm himself, as well as to remind himself that she was alive.

“I’ll kill him,” Brynjolf snarled. He wasn’t entirely sure what angered him more. That he had betrayed the entire guild, or that he had tried to kill Y/N whose hand was still in his own, earning more than a few confused looks from the other guild members, yet a knowing one from Karliah.

A soft squeeze on his hand pulled him from his anger, however, and his gaze fell on the woman beside him as she gave him a comforting smile. He nodded at her, taking a deep breath to completely calm himself.

She is alive and here. Everything is fine, Brynjolf.

Most people had left the Flagon by now - their anger at Mercer’s betrayal fuelling their plans for revenge – leaving only Brynjolf, Y/N, and Karliah, the latter being quick to excuse herself.

“Thank you for trusting me, Brynjolf,” Y/N whispered, as though she was ashamed of what she was saying. “I didn’t know if you would.” Her words had the red-heads eyes widening as he quickly spun to face her with a force that almost sent him flying.

“I’ll always trust you. I’m just… I’m glad you are alive.” He admitted, one hand resting on the table in front of them whilst the other nursed his drink.

Y/N smiled to herself, a blush running up her cheeks as she took his hand in hers again.

“I’m glad to be back here with you.”

Now it was his turn to blush as he cleared his throat, unsure at what to say.

As he glanced over at Y/N, he noticed that she was already staring at him, and for the first time for as long as she had known him, Brynjolf was rendered speechless.

“I think I should be getting some rest,” Y/N said before he could think of something to say. She lifted herself from the seat she occupied, releasing Brynjolf’s hand in the process. “You should too.”

Brynjolf stared at her for a moment as she turned to leave.

“Y/N,” he called out, abruptly standing up.

Y/N turned to face him, confusion on her features. “What is it, Bryn?”

He hesitated.

“Please never leave me again,”

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