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#like dream escaping prison

canisalbus · 2 months

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I got hit with the Vasco & Machete dreams last night! It was very long and epic with lots of details that are now lost, but it was a harrowing tale of trying and succeeding to escape some kind of facility. Machete could teleport them moderate distances for some reason, but he was still figuring out his limits, it wore him out horribly & they had to rest a lot to recharge. They also took sea kayaks part of the way? The last phase of the dream was six months later, planning for an upcoming holiday in their new home, still processing the trauma of it all but feeling hopeful ❤️

#I'm disproportionately happy that your brain granted the dream a happy ending #that's so endearing #the long and epic and complex ones are the best #like watching the most immersive movie ever #teleporting and kayaking and escaping evil facilities prison break style #dream Vaschete sightings #answered #anonymous

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bleue-flora · 14 days

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As of last Friday, I turned 23 and I can’t help thinking about how that makes be older than approximately 75% of the dsmp members when they first joined the server. But most importantly, it makes me older than when Dream escaped prison and that is wild to think about.

Oh and weirdly, 23 is also the number of Quackity and Dream torture scenes I’ve posted. That’s like roughly 28% of Quackity’s visits. Wtf…

#all week I tell you this has been my thought- I am older than Dream was when he was imprisoned and tortured and finally escaped… ahhhh #jeez I’m so old and yet young at the same time!#they were so young!#this is fine #dsmp #c!dream #dreblr #and if you think I’m done writing torture box scenes you’d be wrong… I have so many ideas….#dream smp #dsmpblr #pandora's vault #send help… lol… at this rate I should make it my goal to depict/reference every single visit I’m like a forth of the way there XD lol…#also rip now I no longer fit the Taylor Swift song XD lol #prison break

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dr3amofagame · 2 months

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idk why but i think c!Sam would not have allowed c!wilbur go to visita c!dream but if c!wilbur actually tries to beat the shit out of c!dream like in that dream he had then he would allow it idk why but he seems like "You want to talk to dream unaceptable" "but beating him up it's allowed if You want"

i think wilbur could've talked himself inside that prison lmao like i do think he could've managed it somehow

#my asks !!#dsmp hot takes #it all depends on the time period obviously #but considering c!sam was allowing the prison guards to see c!dream post-techno escape #when c!quackity believed that c!dream had already escaped and all #i do think c!wilbur couldve made a convincing argument in some manner #i dont necessarily think hed let someone in just to beat c!dream up tho w/ how loaded that gets w/ quackity's existence #like explicitly if the point is to beat c!dream up i feel like hed be a little bit ...? you know

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coquelicoq · 1 year

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yessssss we have arrived at the night before the count's duel with albert! mercédès is here! she's calling him edmond! she's begging him to spare her son's life!! she's saying shit like "avenge yourself, edmond! but avenge yourself on the guilty; avenge yourself on fernand, avenge yourself on me, but don't avenge yourself on my son!" and he's roaring in despair and seizing handfuls of his hair and AGREEING TO IT even though it means HE will have to die instead (because albert threw a glove in his face in full view of everyone at the opera a couple hours ago and men are such babies about that) and he will be dying without having achieved his vengeance, which in his mind is akin to god making all of creation and then on the seventh day "extinguishing the sun and pushing the world back into eternal night" (this is literally how he talks btw) and she's thanking him and telling him she still loves him and two little tears are coming to his eyes (but they disappear because, and i quote, "no doubt god had sent an angel to collect them") and then she's leaving and he's sitting there head in hands ("as if his brow alone could no longer support the weight of his thoughts") saying to himself "i was mad not to tear out my heart the day i swore revenge"! YES! YES! YESSSSSSSSS!!!!

#THIS IS THE SHIT WE HAVE COME TO SEE!!!#when she called him edmond i would have gasped but i was reading aloud so instead i just made the count's response very emotional #which it was supposed to be anyway so that worked out #because i'm reading this one chapter per day i knew yesterday that this was gonna happen today #and all day yesterday i was imagining how the conversation would go #i've read it before so i do remember the result of the conversation but i didn't remember the details #and like. it's SO good. it completely lived up to my expectations #he tells her fernand put him in jail! she tells him she's been dreaming EVERY NIGHT for the last TEN YEARS that he escaped from prison #by disguising himself as a dead body (which is actually what happened!!) but then was killed when the jailers threw the body #into the ocean!!!!#he's saying you want your son to live? okay. he'll live. and she's saying yes yes there's the edmond i love!!#and he's saying well you won't have much longer to love him because tomorrow morning HE'LL BE DEAD!!#because your son insulted me publicly and the thing i love most in the world after you (!!!!) is my dignity #so if i can't kill him then the only other option is to DIE BY HIS HAND #because that was the most dramatic possible way he could have relayed that information. fucking superb you funky little drama queen #the count of monte cristo #my posts

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tjodity · 10 months

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Scrapped lore bits from the Dream SMP I'm still mad we never got:

-Whatever lore Nihachu had planned for the day Doomsday happened

-The Egg finale scheduled for immediately after the Red Banquet

-Jschlatt's Las Nevadas resurrection (heavily implied by Quackity trying to get the Revival Book after gambling with Glatt and cc!Schlatt saying he'd be coming back to the SMP)

-Any further development of Puffychu

-Ranboo getting resurrected (cc!Ran saying he was meant to be revived two weeks after the prison break)

-Hitting on 16 in livestream format. Like I know we still got the lore but cc!Wilbur simply could not fit what the format brings into written form. The long periods of characters just talking to each other, body language, random impromptu moments, etc.

-The Manhunt Arc (slight speculation but the streams where Tommy reinforced Tubbo's old house and convinced Eryn, Sam Nook, and Phil to help him track and kill Dream after the prison break felt like it was setting up something)

-Cyberknife lore (cc!Techno planned on having his character leave and acting as an antagonist for the syndicate)

-Ranboo's ARG (never properly finished)

-Ranboo and Slime in the multiverse (I have no context but I swear cc!Ranboo said something about this and if I had to guess tftsmp!Ran and O!Ranboo could've had something to do with it)

-whatever Connor had going on (I know his SMPLive stuff I'm referring to him knowing Karl could time travel)

-Tubbo's ending of growing old and raising Michael (planned but cut for the nuclear ending)

-Tommy's soft ending which would apparently resemble Jesse Pinkman from Breaking Bad. (this is secondhand information but I've seen people talk about it. I assume this to mean he would escape the SMP and we wouldn't see what happened to him. Cut for the nuclear ending)

-Captain Puffy being the main antagonist of Season 2 (as seen by her being the vessel for the fully powered Egg in the finale and having a skin ready for season 2)

Feel free to add your own!

#dream smp #tommyinnit #tubbo #wilbur soot #nihachu #ranboo #captain puffy

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mooshywrites · 15 days

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Falling asleep on their laps

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Masterlist

Art commissions

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Astarion ~

As the silky fabric draped over your body, Astarion couldn't help but marvel at the peaceful expression on your face. The gentle rise and fall of your chest as you breathed in the night air, the soft hush of your breath against his thigh - it was quite the calming scene.

The fire crackled nearby, casting dancing shadows that played across your features like fleeting whispers of a dream. Astarion's fingers twitched with the urge to reach for his needle and thread, to continue his meticulous work on a new garment he was creating. Yet, he dared not move a muscle, fearing that the slightest disturbance might rouse you from your nap.

He sighed in frustration, feeling like a prisoner under your touch. How was it that he, what he would consider to be quite the dangerous person, be so afraid of rousing you from your sleep?

Astarion glanced down at you, marveling once more at how serene your expression was. It was almost unfair how effortlessly you had him wrapped around your finger.

With a resigned huff, he turned his attention back to the crackling fire. The flames seemed to mock with their freedom, flickering and leaping without a care in the world. Astarion couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy - oh, to be as unrestrained as fire. But as he glanced back at you, he remembered why he endured this minor inconvenience with a begrudging fondness.

“Truly,” he muttered under his breath, “the sacrifices I make for love.”

Halsin ~

You didn’t even realize you were drifting off to sleep on Halsin’s lap until your vision had completely darkened, your dreams carrying you away. Halsin gazed down at you with a mixture of concern and amusement, unsure of how to maneuver without waking you from your blissful nap. Slowly and carefully, he attempted to lift you up from his lap, his muscles tense with the effort of trying not to disturb your sleep.

With a sudden jolt, you let out a soft snore, making Halsin freeze in his tracks, his eyes widening in surprise. He held his breath, hoping beyond hope that you wouldn’t awaken from his blunder. As he continued to gently shift your weight in his arms, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation.

After what felt like an eternity of careful maneuvering, Halsin finally managed to bring you to a softer patch of moss nearby. With a triumphant grin, he gingerly laid you down on the cushiony surface, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear with tenderness.

Halsin watched as your eyebrows furrowed, your sleepy expression seemingly tense. Suddenly, your hand shot out from under the blanket, reaching for him in your sleep. Your fingers brushed against his shirt sleeve and clung to it, pulling Halsin towards you with a force that surprised him. His eyes widened as he was pulled forward, watching as you sighed in contentment now that he was closer.

“Not to worry, little duck,” he chuckled, pulling you into his arms, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Gale ~

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you settled against Gale’s chest, the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing along with his voice against you pulling you into a peaceful slumber.

Gale, with the worn, dog-eared book in his hands, looked down at you. His eyes softened at the sight of your resting so happily against him, your head nestled comfortably in the crook of his arm. He let his fingertips gently trace the contours of your face, from your closed eyes and their fluttering lashes to your slightly parted lips.

Gale’s brow creased as he saw you shiver softly, your arms shifting against him further to steal some of his warmth. His heart twinged seeing you in such a state; he wanted to fetch you a blanket himself, but feared even the lightest movement would disturb your sleep. After a moment of thinking, a vague idea formed in his mind. He extended a hand, the air trembling ever so slightly as magic sparked alive at his fingertips.

An incantation whispered under his breath brought forth his mage hand, spectral and blue. He guided it carefully, directing it towards the plush blanket resting on the other side of the room. It moved soundlessly through the air, returning to Gale’s side with its precious cargo. With one more soft command, the mage hand spread the blanket over you delicately.

Gale shifted slightly, smiling as you relaxed under the new warmth. His attention returned to the book, finding his place on the page.

“Anyways, my darling,” he murmured happily, “where were we.”

Wyll ~

The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting a warm orange glow upon the dimly lit study. Wyll, deep in concentration, pored over the building plans and scrolls strewn across his desk, his brow furrowed as he consulted one plan after another. Beside him, you yawned sleepily, your eyelids drooping as you rested against him. You tried valiantly to remain awake, curious about the plans that would shape your future home, but the lullaby of the fire and the late hour were proving too much to resist.

Wyll glanced up from his notes and landed on your sleeping form, smiling softly.

“I suppose these can wait until morning,” he whispered, gently gathering up the papers. Strong arms scooped you up from the chair effortlessly, carrying you across the room as if you weighed no more than a feather.

He settled you carefully into the large four-poster bed that dominated one corner of the room. The velvety soft blankets enveloped you in a cocoon of warmth as Wyll slid in beside you. His arms encircled you, pulling ou close against his broad chest. You nestled into him, breathing in the comforting scent of pine and leather.

“A nap is a wonderful plan, my love,” he teased, pressing a kiss against your forehead quietly, “I should’ve thought of it myself.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

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nariism · 7 months

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Wriothesley has fallen asleep on the job.

It's not a surprise, not in the least. He's spent more time at the Fortress of Meropide than he has at home lately, overworking himself with an unfathomable amount of new inmates to house.

He's always taken his work quite seriously, both as a show of gratitude to the people of Fontaine and to protect his pride in having the most inescapable prison in the entire nation. And more than that, he's always refused your help much to your chagrin.

You find him asleep at his desk, piles of paperwork buried under his head as a makeshift pillow. He snores softly, meaning that he must have just knocked out recently.

A quiet sigh escapes you as you tread over to his sleeping form, draping the coat dangling on the back of his chair over his body as a temporary blanket. Fontaine is chilly, and despite his unusual warmth, risking Wriothesley getting sick is the last thing you want in the world.

It strikes you then. He's asleep. Asleep, in front of you, completely vulnerable and unknowingly allowing you to observe every part of him without judgement: the slow rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathes, human and alive; the hair that's fallen out of place and over the eyes which you love so much; the light murmurs of his recited dreams leaving his lips yet unintelligible.

You're surprised that it's never dawned on you before. You've rarely had the chance to see him sleep.

Wriothesley always roused before the crack of dawn, waking you after him with his lips pressed to your forehead. "Good morning, pretty," he would greet you before taking off for the day. And he was so warm to hold at night that you would often fall asleep before him, comforted by the slow beating of his heart against your ear.

It's a strange sight to see him looking so unguarded, all evidence of the torment of his busy day washed out of his expression as he snores.

You shouldn't. You know you shouldn't. But you can't help it. The Kamera is pulled from your bag before you can stop yourself, fingers nimbly getting the lens ready without stirring him. You're just about to take a picture worth a thousand words when—

"Mornin', pretty."

You almost drop the Kamera out of surprise, clutching it to your chest while you glare at the smugness written all over his face. There's a gruffness and slur to his voice that makes you weak in the knees, so unlike how you're used to hearing him in the mornings when he's already had his tea.

His steely eyes peer up at you curiously as you try and stammer out a weak excuse, to little avail. You should have known that the Lord of the Fortress of Meropide would have sharp enough senses to wake with even the smallest disturbance. He sits up straight, the coat hanging on his shoulders falling off onto the seat.

(It makes him melt that you've attempted to keep him warm, even though it seems like you've come all the way out to the Fortress at such an hour just to check up on him.)

He looks around. "No one escorted you?"

You bashfully avert your eyes, fumbling around with your Kamera and trying pathetically to hide it behind your back as if you weren't caught red-handed already.

"The guards let me in."

"But you came alone?"

His frown deepens when you nod. Wriothesley gathers up his remaining papers into one pile and shoves them aside before striding over to you. "Have a guard escort you home. It's dangerous to go back alone," is his demand.

"You're not coming home tonight?" You ask quietly, lips pulling back into a small pout of disappointment. His heart aches at the thought that he may have been neglecting you in the last few days, even more than he had been neglecting himself.

"I have to finish up some things," he tells you with the slightest bit of guilt bleeding into his words. He runs a hand through his hair before sighing. "Why don't you stay here tonight?"

It's a lame offer, asking the love of his life to sleep in such a dinky, run-down place. But the light that explodes in your eyes and smile tell him that you don't care. You never would, so long as you were by his side.

"Okay," you whisper, and he kisses you in apology.

That night, at an hour so late that not even the prisoners make a peep, he realizes that your Kamera is still set down on the coffee table beside your resting form. He has drowned you in his coat and a spare blanket, laid you out across his office couch, and though it's not luxurious you seem to be resting well.

Just a few more days. A few more days of processing all of the new papers sent by Neuvillette and he would be free to come home to your loving arms and fall asleep in your shared bed. For now, this would have to suffice.

The man gathers you up into his arms and slides beneath you, holding you atop his chest like he always does. He's careful not to wake you as he settles in to call it a night.

There's a faint shutter as he holds the device up in the air and takes a picture of the both of you, with your body curled up against his and his arm around your waist.

He presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head. "Goodnight, pretty."

("When did you take this?!"

"You don't like it?" He asks you nonchalantly, eyes busy with reading the morning Steambird.

"I didn't say that," you grumble, flustered at how he's holding you in the image. Did he always hold you so close? So protectively?

Wriothesley smiles at you with his lips on the rim of his mug. "You snore, by the way."

"Shut up!")

#— whispers in the wind ✧#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact fic #genshin impact drabbles #genshin impact fluff #wriothesley #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x y/n #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic

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punkshort · 3 months

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somewhere to run | 7. break the chain

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You take the next step in your relationship with Joel. (Smut. It's just all smut. All of it.)

Chapter Warnings: language, smut (18+ MDNI), Joel being a consent king, unprotected piv sex, fingering, dirty talk, hair pulling, oral sex (f receiving), reader is a little bit sexually inexperienced, brief thoughts of SA but absolutely nothing descriptive, talking about injuries (bruising), oh yeah and infidelity duh

WC: 7.3K

Series Masterlist

There were a lot of things that went through your head when you woke up that morning. Primarily, your thoughts centered around giving your statement and dread you felt about Joel possibly treating you differently once he heard the truth. And you were partially right. He did end up treating you differently, but not at all in the way you expected.

No, you certainly didn't expect your evening to end up with Joel's body pressing yours into your couch, his lips alternating between peppering chaste kisses along your jaw to his tongue probing desperately into your mouth while your fingers gripped his tie and the stiff fabric of his dress shirt, holding him as close as possible because you were terrified he might stop.

You knew you were technically being unfaithful, but was it really cheating if your husband treated you like a prisoner? If you never had any means of escape from a marriage you felt manipulated into? Besides, Joel knew everything now and he still chose to stay. Nobody's ever stood by you or tried to help you the way he had. Whatever ended up happening that night, you knew it wasn't going to be meaningless. You trusted him, you knew that much, and for once in your life you finally felt like maybe, just maybe, you could free yourself from Patrick and live the life you deserved.

His hand cupped your cheek, fingertips digging into the back of your neck while he held all his weight on his other forearm, hovering above you and trying to keep his hips from rubbing against your center but his body was desperate for friction, and he knew he couldn't hold himself back much longer. After everything he heard you say, every horrible memory you were forced to bring up and relive, he wanted nothing more than to help take it all away. He wanted to cleanse your mind of those memories, of the life you felt forced to suffer through, and prove to you right then and there that love shouldn't hurt. Had you ever even really felt love before? Truly? Probably not.

Joel's hand left your face and drifted down to your shoulder, then gingerly grazed your ribs, his tongue still dancing with yours, trying to pull out that sweet sound you gifted him with only once before at the carnival. A sound that haunted his dreams, a sound he replayed over and over in his mind late at night when he tried to sleep but was too consumed with thoughts of you.

His fingers dipped lower and nervously fidgeted with the belt of your robe. He was suddenly unsure, now that he was aware of your past, what you would be comfortable with. He pulled back and looked down at you, watching as your chest heaved beneath him. Your perfect, swollen lips were parted and your eyes were dark with lust as you gazed up at him.

"Maybe we should slow down," he said, selfishly regretting the offer the moment it left his lips, but the last thing he wanted to do was pressure you. Thankfully, you shook your head and tugged gently on his tie, urging him back down, but once again his conscience got the best of him and he hesitated.

You furrowed your brow, trying to figure out what the problem was when it occurred to you, a thought that quickly snapped you out of your trance in shame. Scooting yourself back so you could prop yourself up on your elbows, you took a deep breath before speaking.

"Right. Nikki."

His eyes widened and he immediately shook his head.

"No, that's over," he told you, and you inwardly sighed with relief. "But what you said at the station earlier, I just thought..." he trailed off, a part of him not wanting to ruin the moment but the other part of him trying to be respectful. It was clearly not something you were used to. You were used to a man who just took what he wanted from you over and over and Joel absolutely refused to be like that, no matter how badly he ached for you.

"Were you telling me the truth before?" you asked, seemingly ignoring what he just said. He frowned, not following. "You told me you would make me forget about every man who's ever had me."

His breath caught in his throat as he remembered that night at the carnival when he walked you back to your car. He had no idea his words would have such an impact. At the time, it was just something he said in the heat of the moment, but hearing those words echoed back to him, after everything he now knew, he took it as a challenge. All you seemed to know was pain and hurt, but if you let him, he would show you how good it could really be.

"Yes," he said, his eyes boring into yours and watching as a flicker of excitement passed over your perfect features and suddenly all he could think about was taking your pain away.

"Then make me forget."

His mouth crashed down on yours again and finally, finally, he heard that little moan. The one that he couldn't get out of his head. The one that drove him crazy ever since he heard it. The one he daydreamed about every time he looked at you. He growled against your mouth as his arms wrapped around your middle, scooping you upright and making you grip his shoulders for dear life as he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist while he blindly walked towards your bedroom. You giggled against his mouth when his shoulder knocked into the doorframe and he cursed under his breath. He opened his eyes for just a moment so he could get the layout of the room and put you down safely on the bed.

His lips traveled down your neck while he nimbly undid your robe, his hands sliding underneath the thin fabric, fingers dancing over your delicate skin. He felt you stiffen under him when he touched your side and once again, he pulled back to look. Any other day, his eyes would have locked onto your exposed breasts, but not today. Today, he was focused entirely on the enormous bruise still struggling to heal over your ribs and he had to actively suppress his reaction, but you could still see it. His nostrils flared and he clenched his jaw as he continued to examine the deep blues and purples that littered your beautiful skin.

"I'm fine," you told him quickly, your breath coming in quick gasps as you tried to pull his attention back. "Promise, I'm fine."

His eyes found yours for a brief moment before he looked back at the bruise, then leaned forward to plant a tender kiss against it. He heard you sigh, your hands finding his hair, and he kissed your ribs again, forcing himself to shift gears. You didn't want his pity. Not right now.

"You were naked under this thing the whole time you were talkin' to me?" he murmured, his lips traveling across your stomach, leaving soft licks in its wake.

"I told you I was in the shower," you replied teasingly, grateful that he moved past the bruise as his mouth found the underside of your breast. He pulled your nipple into his mouth and you arched your back with a gasp, his tongue flicking over the stiffened peak.

"Joel?" you whispered, and he hummed in response, still lavishing your chest with attention. "Take off your clothes."

You felt the prickle of his facial hair against your overly sensitive skin when his lips turned up into a smile. He pushed himself up, kneeling between your legs as he stared down at you watching him tug slowly on his tie, unknotting it before tossing it on the floor behind him. His eyes were still glued to yours, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. You watched, lips parted, your eyes greedily drifting down his chest as his thick fingers undid each button with precision until he finally got to the bottom, tugging the shirt out of his slacks and shrugging it off.

Your hands came up to work on his belt while he lifted his white T-shirt off over his head. His hands dropped to his sides as he tilted his hips forward more, giving you better access until you yanked the leather from his waist aggressively, making him chuckle. You were about to start working on his pants when you noticed the deep purple bruise marking the right side of his chest and you gasped, sitting up to reach out to him.

"Oh my god," you whispered, your eyes filled with worry.

"It doesn't hurt anymore," he told you quickly, but he could see the pain behind your eyes when you looked at him.

"I'm so sorry," you told him, your lower lip beginning to tremble.

"Don't be sorry," he said, his hands coming up to cup your face. "None of this is your fault."

"I made him come here," you said, tears welling up in your eyes. "I moved here and ruined everything!"

"No, stop," he said, shaking his head and pressing a gentle kiss against your lips. "You movin' here's the best thing that ever happened to me, okay?"

You sniffled and looked up at him, his thumb drying your tears as quickly as they fell.

"It's okay," he whispered, giving you another soft kiss. You sighed, leaning into his touch like a lifeline. Like it was the only thing tethering you to reality. "You're okay," he added in-between kisses, and you decided to believe him. You let him ease you back onto the mattress, his warm skin pressing against your chest while your hands dipped between your bodies, fingers fumbling with the button on his pants. He lifted his hips up ever so slightly, just enough to give you room to maneuver his zipper and tug on his waistband, but not too much because he couldn't fathom not feeling your body against his for even one unnecessary second.

When you finally managed to pull his pants down, he kicked his legs out behind him, flicking the restricting material onto the floor to join the rest of his clothes. His mouth traveled down your chin, along your jaw and taking a small break behind your ear before he continued down your throat, his teeth grazing gently against the delicate skin as you began to writhe underneath him.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" he asked, his lips sucking on your collarbone. He realized how ridiculous it seemed to ask that now that you were already both naked, but he felt the need to give you another chance to back out. He couldn't get your words out of his head and he needed to make sure you wanted this just as badly as he did.

"Yes," you moaned, tipping your head back, your eyes sliding shut. "Yes, please Joel, please, please - oh!"

You gasped when you felt his thick fingers trace along your folds, collecting the wetness there before his fingertip teased at your entrance, trying to learn your body's cues so he could give you exactly what you needed. Your hips jutted upwards, encouraging him to continue and he smirked against your skin as he sunk one finger inside. Your grip on his shoulders tightened as you let out a low moan, the sound sending even more blood directly between his legs and he was beginning to question if he was going to make it.

"Fuck, baby," he murmured, withdrawing his finger quickly and making you whine. "I know, I know," he cooed, his breathing becoming shallow as he repositioned himself between your legs. "I just- I can't- shit, I need you so bad," he told you as he notched himself against your opening. You eagerly spread your legs wider, looking up at him with heavy lidded eyes, your chest and neck all pink from his facial hair. He watched how the rush of blood underneath your soft skin he caused helped to hide the bruises and scrapes someone else left. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Like he was watching the start of him erasing all those horrible memories.

"You tell me if you don't like somethin', or if it's too much, or if it hurts-"

"Okay," you said, cutting him off and nodding enthusiastically.

"Okay," he repeated, his voice a little shaky as he locked eyes with you for one more brief moment before pressing forward. You both groaned, jaws hanging open as your bodies welcomed each other so perfectly. He inched in slowly, trying to memorize every single second until he bottomed out, one hand gripping your hip and the other clenched into a fist next to your head, holding himself up so he could watch your face for any sign of discomfort. When it became clear there was none, he let himself drop down onto his forearm so he could slot his mouth back over yours. You moaned sweetly into the kiss, your fingers coming up to grip his curls and he felt goosebumps travel down his arms. Fuck, he really liked it when you tugged a little on his hair.

You lifted your hips a bit, rocking them, trying to get him to move, but he tightened his grip and pushed your hips back down.

"Not yet," he gasped, letting his forehead rest against yours as he tried to collect himself. "Just... just gimme a second."

"Is everything okay?" you asked after another moment, and he let out a soft laugh.

"Yeah, I'm just afraid this'll end too soon. Gotta make you feel good first," he explained sheepishly, planting a small kiss on the tip of your nose.

"About that," you said, dropping your hands from his hair. "I can't... no one's ever... y'know," you trailed off, feeling your cheeks flare. He frowned as he pieced together what you were trying to say.

"You've never had an orgasm?"

"Well, on my own, yes. But not with someone else," you said hurriedly, shame and embarrassment coursing through your veins as you watched his face fill with disappointment.

"It doesn't mean I don't enjoy it, you just don't need to-"

"Make you come?" he finished for you, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

"Uh huh," you squeaked, hoping you weren't as red as you felt. He tsked and shook his head.

"Oh baby, you poor thing," he mumbled, leaning down to give you another sweet kiss before reaching to the side to grab a pillow. "Lift up."

Confused, you did as you were told, lifting your hips up so he could wedge the pillow underneath you.

"Comfortable?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Don't worry, I got this. I got you," he said, giving his hips an experimental roll and watching your face for your reaction. You sucked in a deep breath and your eyes fluttered closed. Good start.

He gave it to you nice and slow, dragging himself in and out, building you up little by little and paying close attention to your body language. If it was possible to hate Patrick even more, he did. You had said your relationship together wasn't always bad, but as he suspected, your definition of good was not at all what it should be. And Joel was eager to prove that to you.

"So beautiful. D'you know how beautiful you are?" he murmured, picking up the pace just a bit, his tongue flicking over your nipple each time he sunk back inside you. You gasped, the sensation unraveling something in you. "D'you know how crazy I am 'bout you? Think 'bout you all the time," he switched his attention to your other breast, his thrusts remaining steady as he waited for your body to tell him what it needed.

"Me, too," you whispered, your hands coming back up to get tangled in his hair, making him groan.

"Talk to me, I wanna make you feel good," he said, lifting his head off your chest to look at you. "Tell me what you like."

"It's good," you assured him, your eyebrows furrowed in concentration, little gasps leaving your mouth each time he pushed back into you.

"Nah, not good enough," he determined, propping himself up on both forearms now so he could change the angle. His fingers suddenly reached down to grip your knee, pulling it up to your chest before falling back on his forearms. You gasped, eyes flying open as he circled his hips and he smirked. Got it.

"Ohmygod!" you cried out, pulling on his hair and making him moan. "Right there, Joel, don't stop-"

You had no idea how he managed to actually do it, but he did. He reached a spot deep inside that you didn't know even existed and it wasn't long until you felt yourself falling, his name tumbling from your lips over and over and you had a faint idea of how loud you were being but you didn't care. Nobody, including yourself, has ever made you feel that good and it was making you dizzy, your brain foggy as you tried to make sense of what just happened.

"Fuck, what I tell you? So good, you did so good," he mumbled, his lips frantically finding yours as he chased his own high. "I'd give you one more but it's a miracle I lasted this long," he panted, his head falling to your shoulder as you still struggled to come back to earth underneath him. Your fingers in his hair loosened and he grunted, one of his hands coming up to make sure you kept your hands there and you quickly figured out what he wanted. Making sure to grasp a good handful, you gave his hair one firm tug.

"Oh shit!" he groaned, pulling out of you just in time to come all over your inner thighs. "Shit, shit, shit," he muttered, his hips weakly thrusting forward until he was spent, collapsing in a heap on top of you.

"Sorry," he mumbled into the crook of your neck and you giggled. "I might've ruined your sheets," he added with a chuckle, and you laughed even harder.

"It's okay," you said, burying your nose in his messy curls. "I'm on birth control, you could've..."

"Didn't exactly have enough time to ask first if that was okay," he said, smiling against your neck. What a concept, you thought. Being asked first.

"Do you, um," you began, not sure why you felt so nervous around him still. "Do you like getting your hair pulled?"

Joel laughed softly and finally rolled off to the side, allowing you to take deep breaths again now that his weight wasn't crushing you.

"I think I only like it when you do it," he said, grinning while the tips of his ears started to turn red. You hummed and rolled to your side so you could face him.

"I'll keep that in mind for next time," you replied with a wink.

He rolled onto his side as well, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

"I like the sound of a 'next time'," he said, making you blush before planting a quick kiss on your forehead and standing up with a grunt. You watched as he left your room, still completely naked, the sight making you grin and bite your lip. He returned just a minute later with a wet washcloth and you watched as he gently cleaned you up before attempting to spot clean your sheets, then giving up and flopping back into bed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against his chest.

It felt so warm, so safe, so peaceful that you never wanted to leave. His big hands gently rubbed your arm, his touch so soft and soothing that you almost felt like you could fall asleep. You closed your eyes and pressed your ear against his chest, listening to the rhythmic thud, thud, thud of his heart. Every strong beat a reminder that he was real, that he cared, that he was going to help you. Even if your relationship never got to this point, you knew he would still help you get out of this mess you were in, because he was a good man. You just wish it didn't take so long to find him.

You glanced at your digital clock and tried to hide your disappointment when you saw it was nearly 6pm.

"You'll have to get going soon," you reminded him, your fingers running lightly over his bare chest. "Sarah's probably waiting for you."

He hummed and picked up his phone, checking his calendar quickly before dialing a number. You could hear the ringing on the other end and a tinny voice answer.

"Hey Tommy. Can you or Maria pick up Sarah and keep her overnight? Yeah, I'm workin' a late one, not sure when I'll get home."

Joel listened to his brother's answer for a moment before nodding his head.

"That's no problem, I'll call and tell her you'll be there in an hour. Thanks, I owe you one." He pulled the phone back and you tried to stifle your smile as he went to dial Sarah.

"You don't have to-"

"Shh," he said, then "hey babygirl, I'm sorry but I'm gonna be late tonight. Uncle Tommy'll come by to get you in an hour and you can stay at his house... yeah, I'm sure if you wanted to do your homework at the diner, he won't care. You all good? How was your day?"

You nestled into his shoulder as you listened to him talk to his daughter, asking her questions about school and her extra curricular activities before he finished up the call, telling her he loved her as he hung up.

"You didn't have to do all that."

"Yeah, but I wanted to," he said, kissing the top of your head. You sighed and leaned back into his chest, then froze when you heard his stomach.

"You didn't eat, did you?" you asked with a smirk, and you felt his chest bounce lightly up and down as he stifled a laugh. "Can I make you something? Do you like pasta?" you asked him, sitting up in bed but he reached out and grabbed your shoulders, pulling you back into him.

"Yeah, but I don't want you leavin' just yet," he mumbled, his voice rumbling in his chest and echoing through your ear. You couldn't help but smile at how sweet he was, and you kicked yourself for not telling him everything sooner.

"The noodles are already cooked, it won't take long," you said, sitting back up again after a minute, and this time, he let you, but only after he insisted on helping. Or at least, he thought he was helping by leaning against the counter and circling his arms around your waist while you stirred the sauce.

"If I burn this, it's your fault," you teased, tipping your head back against his shoulder as his lips made their way down your neck.

"Mm, worth it," he mumbled.

You watched him eat from across your small kitchen table with a goofy look on your face. It was still hard to believe the past couple hours really happened, and having him sitting in your tiny apartment eating leftover pasta in his boxers was just making it seem even more surreal.

"What're you lookin' at me like that for?" he asked, his mouth turning up into a smirk as he swallowed the last of his food.

"Can't I just look at you?"

"You got somethin' goin' on up there," he said, tapping the side of his head and leaning back in his chair.

"I was just thinking how the book club ladies were right about you."

He frowned and gave you a confused look.

"All the women in this town are crazy about you, you know that, right?"

He shrugged a little but you saw his cheeks begin to color.

"You're the only one I want crazy 'bout me," he replied, making your heart flutter.

"Mission accomplished," you said, and he chuckled before standing up to wash his plate in your sink, and you watched, still in utter disbelief he was standing there barely dressed in your kitchen.

"I can feel you still lookin' at me," he said, his back to you, and you laughed.

"I'm just having a hard time believing this isn't a dream," you said, coming over to lean against the doorway.

He turned around, drying his hands on a towel before looking you up and down.

"Want me to prove it?" he asked lowly as he took a few short steps towards you. He bent down slightly so he could run his hands up the backs of your legs, disappearing beneath your robe to grab onto your ass. You could feel your knees weakening already, his touch continuing to be your downfall.

"Yes," you whispered, tipping your head so you could find his throat, your tongue leaving wet marks after every little bite to his tanned skin while his hands kept roaming over your body. He quickly became fed up with your robe and before you knew it, it was piled in a heap next to your fridge.

He dropped to his knees, leaving your head spinning at the sudden loss, and when he lifted one of your legs up to rest over his shoulder, you gasped. Even though you knew the answer, you asked him anyway.

"W-what are you doing?"

His eyes found yours and he paused, looking up at you from between your legs, his eyes hot with desire and his curls a floppy mess on his head.

"Is this okay?" he asked, and you swallowed nervously.

"I d-don't... I've never had -" you cut yourself off as your cheeks once again flushed with embarrassment.

"You're kiddin' me, right?" he asked, his expression unreadable. "No one's ever licked this perfect pussy before?"

"Jesus Christ, Joel!" you laughed, taken aback by his blunt words. Never in your life had you ever expected to hear this kind of talk come out of his mouth.

He chuckled and nosed at your folds, making you gasp.

"You ain't heard nothin' yet," he muttered before flicking his tongue out and licking a broad stripe up your center. Your hands flew out to grip the counter behind you, your mouth hanging open, unable to form a coherent thought, let alone sentence.

"Oh, my god," you finally managed to whisper, your head tilting forward and your eyes sliding shut as he buried his face between your legs, his facial hair rubbing against your overly sensitive skin, making it difficult to remember how to breathe.

His fingers gripped your thigh, keeping you in place as he lapped at your arousal, moaning to himself at the taste. Earlier, he felt so angry no one had been able to make you come before, but now he found something incredibly arousing about being able to do these things for you for the very first time. He felt himself throb as he listened to your perfect little moans, garbled versions of his name and curses driving him wild. When your legs began to shake, he hooked your other one over his shoulder, holding you up as you leaned back onto your forearms, trying to take some of the weight off him.

You looked down just as he slid one finger inside your aching heat, hooking it and brushing against that same spot as before while his lips wrapped around your clit, the combination of the two sending you head first into a dizzying orgasm. He felt your arms slack and he quickly reached up with his free hand to make sure you didn't fall, all the while his mouth and finger rode out your climax, slowing down only when your body warned him to. He could feel it when your stomach muscles began to jump and your legs twitched over his shoulders, so he finally pulled away with a satisfied smirk, leaving a trail of wet kisses along your inner thighs as you tried to catch your breath.

"God, you're really good at that," you finally managed to say.

He grinned and carefully set you back on your feet before standing back up with a groan.

"Can't believe no one could ever made you come before," he murmured into your neck as he wrapped his arms around you.

"Maybe you just got lucky," you teased, and he chuckled for a moment before scooping you up, making you squeal in surprise.

"Don't give me a challenge and expect me not to follow through," he said as he walked you over to your tiny kitchen table and laid you down. Your heart raced as you watched him fling his shirt over his head and you did your best to ignore the ugly bruise this time, just as he had been doing to yours. He pushed his boxers down to his knees, not even bothering to remove them as he gripped his erection in his fist, sliding the tip slowly through the remains of your release and watching you flinch when he nudged against your sensitive clit.

His eyes found yours and he waited, wanting to hear you say it, needing to hear you say it.

"Yes," you whispered with a nod. "I need you, Joel. Please make me come again."

He wasted no time sinking back inside you, a groan of relief slipping past his lips as he looked down and watched you stretch so perfectly around him.

"You got any idea how many times I've imagined you sayin' somethin' like that to me?" he said through gritted teeth, watching as your breasts bounced lightly underneath him from the force of his thrusts. "How many times I came all over my own hand thinkin' 'bout you? God, you feel so fuckin' good, better than I ever imagined."

Somewhere in the back of your head, you knew you should feel embarrassed listening to his confession, but at the moment you couldn't bring yourself to care. In fact, it only served to spur you on, your slick coating him more and more every time he pulled out. You hooked your ankles around his back and your fingers gripped the backs of his hands, which were holding your hips in place as he fucked into you, stopping you from sliding up the table.

"Kiss me," you mumbled, and without a second thought he lifted you up so you were sitting on the edge of the table, his hips still rocking into you as his mouth crashed over yours. One arm around your middle, the other around your shoulders, holding you tightly against him as his tongue probed inside your mouth, licking past your teeth, pouring every ounce of affection he had for you into the kiss.

He dropped one hand to your waist, tilting your hips and making you gasp, your legs nearly losing their grip around him. You could hear the legs of the table squeaking against the floor and had you not been so far gone, you might have wondered if it could be heard in the pizza place downstairs.

"Fuck it," he growled, picking you up, growing frustrated with the table and turned around to pin you against the wall instead.

You cried out his name, the new position making you see stars.

"Think you can come again for me?" he whispered in your ear, his hot breath on your neck sending a shiver down your spine.

"Yes," you whined, tipping your head back against the wall, surrendering over your body. Trusting him, needing him to give you something you've never had before. Something beyond the physical. Something meaningful. Something good.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, looking for something to ground you as the wave of euphoria crashed over you. You buried your face against his neck, practically sobbing his name as he continued to fuck you through it. Your legs began to weaken but you did your best to hold on.

"Oh fuck, I'm gonna come," he groaned, pulling back just a bit, just enough to look down and watch as he disappeared inside your wet heat over and over, the visual sending him over the edge.

"Come inside me," you mumbled, still in a daze. You heard him moan and then whimper, the force of his orgasm taking every last bit of strength and willpower he had. His hips bucked forward, determined to give you every drop of his spend until he finally slowed and collapsed against you.

"Can you stand?" he asked, his mouth against your shoulder as an aftershock ran down his spine.

"Yeah," you said weakly, forcing your eyes open as he slid out of you and gently placed your feet back on the floor. You stood, squeezing your legs together as he pulled his boxers back up and scooped your robe off the floor, draping it back around your shoulders.

"You look tired," he said softly, hooking a finger under your chin, tilting it up so you would look at him.

"I've had a big day," you said with a lazy smile.

The two of you spent the rest of the evening on the couch, trying to watch TV but you were so content and relaxed, you once again found yourself falling asleep against him, his fingers stroking small circles over your back as you drifted off.

You woke up with a start early the next morning, the day before seeming like a fever dream until you felt Joel's arms wrapped around you. At some point he must have carried you to bed because that is where you currently found yourself, his warm body pressed up against yours underneath your sheets. You inhaled deeply, your whole bed smelling just like him. A familiar, comforting smell that made your muscles relax as you melted back into his hold. You couldn't see the time, but you knew it was way too early, so you tried to fall back asleep, however, your body was already responding to being so close to him, and you were finding it difficult to think about anything else.

You shifted restlessly next to him, trying your hardest to ignore the ache between your legs: one that was a mixture of soreness from the night before, and a new, growing need. You never really thought of yourself as a very sexual person. Even when you first met Patrick, you couldn't recall ever feeling like this. Some foolish part of you wondered if it was something else that was the driving force behind your neediness, but you quickly dismissed that idea. It had to be the way he could read your body like a book, maneuver you and touch you exactly the right way at exactly the right time that caused you to crave him this badly because you weren't sure what you would do if it was the alternative. You didn't want to even think about that yet because you knew neither of you could do anything about it until you figured out how to deal with Patrick, and although Joel made promises to help, you knew not to get your hopes up too high.

"You always move around this much?" he teased, his voice a deep, low rumble in his chest, making the ache for him grow even stronger.

Rolling over in his arms, you turned to face him, his eyes still shut but the corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk. He looked so perfect in the morning, it almost wasn't fair. His tousled curls and his voice sounding more like a growl than anything else made up your mind, not that you needed much more convincing.

Deciding to ignore his question, you leaned forward to press wet kisses against his bare chest, slowly making your way across and pausing when you got to his bruise. You made sure to be gentle as you peppered the area with kisses, because even though he said it didn't hurt, you knew better.

"Mm, I could get used to this," he sighed, eyes still closed as he pulled you even closer. He was so warm and he smelled so good and you felt so safe. If you had it your way, you wouldn't leave that bed for the rest of the day.

You continued to trail little bites and licks up his neck, his pebbled skin salty against your tongue while your hand slipped down between your bodies and behind his waistband to wrap your fingers around his already hardening length. He let out a small gasp and his eyes finally opened, looking down at you heatedly as you slowly stroked him up and down.

"Again?" he asked in disbelief, but he was already rolling you over so he could position himself on top of you, his hand sliding down your side to untie the robe you never ended up changing out of the night before. He pulled his head back a bit so he could flick your robe open, your lips losing contact with his skin but your hand still slowly working him underneath his boxers.

"Need you," you mumbled, your eyelids heavy with sleep and lust.

"Yeah?" he asked, fully awake now as his fingers toyed with your nipple, rolling it between his fingers, making you whine. "Tell me, baby. Tell me what you need."

"Need you to fuck me," you replied, no longer feeling any shame or embarrassment. He growled and grabbed your wrist, pulling you off of his cock and gently pressing your arm into the mattress so he could yank his boxers down with his other hand. As he was about to notch himself at your opening, you stopped him.

"Can I be on top?"

He glanced up at you and a huge grin spread across his face.

"Fuck yes, you can," he said, quickly rolling onto his back and pulling you with him so you straddled his hips.

"I never got to do it this way before," you told him, lifting your hips so you could position him under you. He was about to reply but you began to slowly sink down, making his jaw drop, words failing him.

"Wha- fuck," he groaned, his teeth clenched and neck strained when you found yourself fully seated on him, and you let out a sigh of relief. "Whatever you want, it's yours," he finally said, sliding his eyes shut as you began to roll your hips slowly, his hands on your waist gently guiding you.

You planted your hands firmly on his chest, careful to avoid the bruise as you furrowed your brow and picked up your pace, alternating between rolling and grinding on top of him. His thick length reached depths you didn't know existed, and soft, little grunts slipped past your lips each time your skin slapped together.

"God, you're good at that," he mumbled, echoing your earlier words back. His eyes remained closed but his breath was becoming shallower the faster your hips moved.

"You think?" you asked him, suddenly feeling shy. His eyes popped open to find yours and he nodded.

"Oh, yeah. Fuck, so good," he snarled, his gaze dropping down you watch you bounce on him, something he thought he would never actually get to experience but fantasized about more times than he could count.

"I think it's -" you cut yourself off with a gasp when you found a particularly good angle, your eyes squeezing shut, desperately trying to focus. "Think it's all you," you finally managed to get out.

"Hell no," he said with a shake of his head, but your eyes were still closed. "Look at me, baby."

You forced your eyes open, pupils blown wide with desire, lips swollen and parted as you continued to ride him.

"It's you. You're fuckin' amazing, and I'm so sorry no one's told you that before."

Your hips faltered at the unexpectedly sweet sentiment, but his hands urged you to continue, so you did.

You leaned forward, putting more pressure on his chest as you bounced up and down. Joel watched, his gaze transfixed on your face as you chased your high, using him to give yourself what you wanted.

"That's right, take it," he said encouragingly, helping you move up and down a little faster, your mouth forming a small circle the closer and closer you got to your orgasm. "Fuckin' take it, take what you need." And give me your pain. I'll take it all.

"Oh fuck, Joel," you whined, tipping your head back as you felt the heat pooling low in your belly. "Fuck, I think I'm gonna come," you added, your breath coming in sharp gasps as your legs began to grow weak from the effort.

"Look at me," he panted, a thin layer of sweat coating his neck and chest as he tried to hold himself back from flipping you over and fucking you into the mattress.

You lazily rolled your head forward, forcing your eyes open so you could look at him.

"Wanna look at you when you come," he explained, and maybe yesterday you would have blushed, but today you just nodded and furrowed your brows in concentration, your release so close you could taste it.

"That's it baby, c'mon, give it to me. I can feel it, feel you squeezin' me. All for me, ain't that right? All mine?" he rambled, his words pushing you higher and higher.

"Yeah," you whined. His eyes were ablaze when he looked up at you, raw need and desire painted across his face. "All yours. You make me feel so good, Joel."

"Show me," he commanded, his nostrils flaring, his hands gripping your hips until you moaned his name so loudly you should have been embarrassed but all you could focus on was the way he made you feel.

He watched you fall apart on top of him, the sight filling him with so much pride and satisfaction that he quickly sat up so you were sitting on his lap as he fucked into you, desperate to join you, his mouth covering yours messily. Your fingers raked through his hair, twisting around the curls before giving it a sharp tug. He groaned loudly, thrusting deep into you until his hips stilled and he emptied himself inside you once again.

"That was incredible," he panted against your mouth, trying to catch his breath. You just slumped against him tiredly, your body unable to hold itself up any longer. He eased you both down onto the bed, letting you lay on top of his sweaty chest while he rubbed your back, his nose buried in your hair. "You're incredible," he said softly, correcting himself.

A nagging thought in the back of your head wondered what this meant for you two, but you didn't want to break the spell. For the first time in such a long time, you were happy and content and you didn't want to ruin it. But you knew the town was too small for your relationship with Joel to remain a secret, and if people didn't already know, they would soon find out you were still married to Patrick. You chewed on your lip as your mind wandered, still lying on top of him, your head rising and falling with each breath he took.

"You alright?" he asked, picking up on your silence.

"Mhm, just tired," you said, lifting your head to give him a small smile. He searched your eyes for a moment, not believing you.

"You sure? Did I hurt you?" he asked, pinching his eyebrows together. You reached a hand up to his face, the pad of your thumb smoothing out the frown, making him smile.

"You could never hurt me," you told him, hoping you were right before pressing a kiss against his lips.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed@merz-8@sarap-77@nandan11@anoverwhelmingdin@fandomscollide@survivingandenduring@honeyedmiller@pedropascalsbbg@southernbe@pedrosfanny@gobaaby-blog-blog @eloquentdreamer @yomiyasxx @mrsparknuts@missladym1981@spacedoutdaydreamer @cosmic006533-blog @prettyinpunk85@maried01 @sunnyskyapplepie @sawymredfox@gobaaby-blog-blog@stevie75@mxtokko@sleepylunarwolf@lizzie-cakes@laurrrra@annieispunk@here4thedilfs @navystandardheatingoilcap @slugz-writes-shit@devilbat@ashleyfilm@scp116@tragerlover@iveseenstrangerthings50 @yvonneeeee @brittmb115@lulawantmula@abbysgirlll@ro-nahime-things@whxtedreams@ashhlsstuff@little-pookie

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller angst #joel miller series #joel miller x reader #sheriff!joel #STR fic #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal

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hana-no-seiiki · 3 months

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REINCARCERATION

tw/cw: reincarnation shenanigans, (implied) yandere themes, mentions/descriptions of cheating, angst, sadist reader, yandere! cheater, very revenge p*rn-ey and suggestive but no smut.

inspired by @miyaagis cheater kuroo series and @cassanderasblog ‘s reincarnated ceo husband oc

(literally wrote this as comfort)

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You keep doing things that hurt you in the long run.”

You stared at the man in front of you. The man you once married in another life before you died and reincarnated.

His broken, bloodied self in front of you. Beaten up by the people you’ve personally sought to send after him.

He died in your previous life too of course. Only that his death was far too boring, and out of your sight.

“Why- why? I thought you loved me. I thought you didn’t think those dreams were true. Th-“ He lets out an agonizing grunt as a wound opened up with all his yapping. Really, the man wouldn’t shut up around you. “That you didn’t care about it anyways!”

“And you were stupid enough to believe it!” You laughed. Genuinely laughed. Finally, after years of being haunted by those dreams of the man you once loved fucking his sidepiece you finally had a moment of happiness. Even if it was at the expense of him. “I know right? You’re even more gullible than I thought.”

You traced the outline of his bulge. One that had been screaming for release since the moment you revealed your true intentions. A reaction from him that proved your thoughts.

The man was a masochist.

You had been too nice. A perfect spouse to the majority. But that wasn’t what he wanted.

And there was only one way to truly hurt a masochist like him.

“This is goodbye then.”

You leave them behind. A prison of their own loneliness.

One that you’ll make sure he never escapes from.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere imagine #yandere fic #yandere oc x reader #yandere core #yandere cheater #tw cheating #tw cheater #yandere writing #yandere headcannons #yandere hcs #cheater x reader #sadist reader #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere boy x reader

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truly-sincerely · 1 month

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Comprehensive Dead Three Timeline

Outdated! I've made a new timeline!

Obviously there's varying amounts of speculation here, but I believe this is as close to a reasonable order of events as can be achieved with current, in-game information

1460s

Enver Flymm sold to Raphael by his parents, renamed Gortash

Gortash learns about the Crown of Karsus while a prisoner of Raphael

1470s

Gortash escapes the House of Hope

Gortash gets involved with black market arms dealing

Durge begins their serial killing spree in Baldur’s Gate

The Emperor dominates Duke Stelmane

1480s

Gortash establishes a cult of Bane in Baldur’s Gate

Gortash approaches Durge about an alliance

Hall of Wonders test mission - Durge gets Bhaalist memorabilia - Gortash gets a bunch of Gondian designs - Durge & Gortash get companionship

Gortash trades Karlach to Zariel for infernal machinery & iron

Baldur’s Gate’s Beloved Ranger statue goes missing

Gortash recruits Franc Peartree to distribute infernal iron weapons

Gortash moves against the Zhentarim & Knights of the Shield

Wyll Ravengard enters pact with Mizora, leaves Baldur’s Gate

1490s

Dead Three made aware of the Crown of Karsus (most likely informed by Gortash) - Gortash becomes Bane’s Chosen - Durge becomes Bhaal’s chosen - Gortash & Durge are instructed to recruit Ketheric

Gortash tells Durge about the Crown of Karsus

They visit Ketheric and learn of the illithid colony under Moonrise

Gortash & Durge visit the House of Hope (for intel on Mephistar?)

Gortash & Durge raid Mephistar - They get the Crown of Karsus - They get the book on the accelerated grand design

Gortash captures the Emperor

Gortash & Durge return to Moonrise - Their identities are kept secret from Ketheric’s people - Durge impresses the Moonrise Gnolls, but not Steelclaw - Ketheric yells at Durge in the throne room for unknown reason

Durge proposes their plan to the Elder Brain who accepts

Raid on the illithid colony - Durge puts the Crown on the Elder Brain - Orin gets Durge alone during the raid & stabs them in the head - Orin tadpoles Durge, making them the first True Soul - Orin leaves Durge in an illithid pod - Orin tells the Chosen she now speaks for the Temple of Bhaal - Orin likely told Gortash, Ketheric, and Balthazar something vague about Durge’s disappearance being related to Durge’s religious crisis and let their imaginations do the rest

1492

Durge breaks out of their pod & is found by Kressa Bonedaughter

Gortash gets weird and intense with unethical experiments - Some futzing to get the tadpoles to consistently remain in stasis - This is when the name ‘True Souls’ gets coined - Extremely questionable fun with brains - Getting the Absolute’s voice sorted out - Tadpoling his parents - Poorly conceived experiments on children & their parents

Isobel is resurrected by the Dead Three

Minsc captured by Absolutists at recruitment rally in the Undercity

Minthara Baenre is recruited by Orin and Ketheric

Gortash has the Iron Throne converted to hold hostages

Gortash presents prototype Steel Watcher to the city council

Jaheira tracks cult to shadow-cursed land, meets Isobel

Elturel falls into Avernus

The brain sends the Chosen dreams about the Astral Prism

Gortash researches the Prism, finds out that Vlaakith has it

Gortash tells Ketheric to send a team to get the Prism - A nautiloid piloted by the Emperor and other illithid is sent - Kressa’s husband arranged for Durge to be on the nautiloid

Gortash deploys Steel Watch in Lower/Outer City

At this point Elturel is no longer in Avernus

Nautiloid picks up Shadowheart & the Prism from Astral Plane

Nautiloid picks up Lae’zel (?)

Nautiloid picks up Gale (?) & Astarion in Baldur's Gate

Nautiloid picks up Karlach & Wyll in Avernus

Nautiloid crashes, game begins

735 notes · View notes

sunsburns · 2 months

Text

kiss of life (ii.)

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!daughter reader

part one

summary: i actually suck at writing summaries but basically this is part two of part one of that soulmate au fic i posted a week ago lol

—or: luke castellan is being haunted by kronos and... well, you.

word count: 6.42k

warnings: sorry for any spelling errors, i haven’t checked yet, suppperrr angsty, luke castellan pov as he's slowly being corrupted by kronos, long reading time, descriptive injuries, blood, pre-tlt, luke is stubborn and a dick, loser!luke, annabeth smacking some sense to luke, grover being an icon, reader is lowkey unreliable tbh... cliff hanger (again... lmfao sorry)

a/n: part two!!! thank you guys for all the love on the first part! i am so grateful for everything and i love reading all the comments and reblogs. i hope this one doesn't end up flopping lmfaooo. i honestly wanted this to be a short angsty fic but i got carried away and now i'm planning a whole multi-part fic for this, phew. anyways enjoyyy <;33

At eighteen, Luke was cursed with nightmares.

They clawed at the edges of his mind, threatening to unravel the fragile front of peace that he had fought so hard to maintain. Each night, he would awaken drenched in a cold sweat, the echoes of his tortured dreams lingering in the corners of his mind like a haunting melody.

The Hermes cabin, once a sanctuary from the outside world, now felt like a prison, its walls closing in around him with each passing moment. The moon, a silent witness to his torment, cast its ethereal glow through the window, illuminating the slumbering forms of campers. Some were children of Hermes, like himself, bound by the tenuous ties of blood and kinship. Others, however, were unclaimed, their parentage shrouded in mystery and uncertainty.

And as Luke lay awake in the stillness of the night, a sense of loneliness washed over him like a tidal wave, drowning him in a sea of doubt. In the depths of his troubled sleep, he could feel the tendrils of darkness closing in around him, threatening to consume him whole. And try as he might to deny it, he knew that his nightmares held a deeper significance, a harbinger of events yet to unfold in the shadowy pits of fate.

His nightmares were callings. A taunting voice would echo through the corridors of his mind, its insidious whispers weaving a thought of deceit and manipulation. It masqueraded as a voice of reason, a beacon beckoning him towards a destiny that promised demigods everything.

At first, Luke dismissed it as nothing more than the ramblings of a tortured soul, the byproduct of his own restlessness. But as the whispers grew louder and more insistent, he could no longer ignore the chilling realization that they were something far more sinister—a call to arms, a summons to embrace his role as a harbinger of the new world.

The nights he wasn't shaking from night terrors, he was tossing and turning at the thought of you. And he didn’t know what was worse. He couldn't escape you. The haunting image of you lingered in his mind even during sleep — your lips, your eyes, your skin, your voice, and that shared scar and your demise.

But at least, you'd given up on him by then. Your persistent efforts to reach out to Luke gradually dwindled into nothingness. Though you were still everywhere, a shadow that seemed to torment his every move, you no longer gave him even a fraction of your attention.

Gone were the days of you seeking him out, your footsteps no longer echoing in the halls of Camp Half-Blood in search of him. You refrained from asking for Chris's help, no longer burdening him with questions on Luke's whereabouts. The notes you once left behind were now relics of a time long past, their words fading with each passing day.

And as the full moon rose once more over the waters of the lake, you no longer waited by its shores.

Luke turned in bed, his mind restless as he tried to shake the image of you. He pulled the covers tighter around himself, seeking comfort in the warmth they provided, but the chill of unease still lingered in the air.

His gaze drifted across the row of beds, each a testament to the diverse personalities that inhabited the Hermes cabin. The floor was strewn with a chaotic array of sleeping bags, toys, and discarded clothing, while a collection of rocks adorned one corner near the closets, and drawings adorned the walls.

Despite the usual chaos that reigned during the day, the cabin now lay quiet and still. The children of Hermes, along with the unclaimed children and the ones of minor gods, had finally settled into the embrace of sleep.

But amidst the calm, a sense of unease gnawed at Luke's consciousness. He couldn't shake the feeling that had settled over him after he noticed the empty bed and the slightly ajar door.

Luke pushed back the covers and rose from his bed. His footsteps echoed softly as he made his way toward the empty bottom bunk, hoping not to wake anyone. The sight of an old penguin stuffed animal discarded at the foot of the bed made him edgy. His eyes trailed to the traces of blood splattered on the hardwood floor, stark against the dim light filtering through the cabin windows.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Luke picked up the toy, its soft white and black material now stained with crimson. Clutching it tightly in his hand, he made his way out of the cabin, the urgency of his steps echoing in the stillness of the night.

He knew all too well who the missing camper was – five-year-old Penelope, one of the newest arrivals to Camp Half-Blood and possibly one of the youngest campers. Found wandering alone in the woods near the camp hill just a week ago, she had been brought to safety by a group of fellow demigods on a quest. Luke couldn't shake the resemblance she bore to a younger Annabeth, with her wide eyes and insatiable thirst for knowledge. He wouldn't be surprised if Athena claimed her as her own one day–that is if he ever found her.

Luke's worry for Penelope weighed heavily on his mind, a knot of anxiety tightening in his chest as he combed through every inch of camp. The traces of blood he discovered fueled his unease, each droplet a stark reminder of the dangers lurking just beyond the safety of the camp's borders.

In his search, Luke traversed familiar paths and hidden corners, his footsteps echoing in the quiet stillness of the night. He scoured the armour, the climbing wall, and the camp store.

Luke had known all about campers disappearing, whether it be on a quest or to escape and try to live a normal life with humans that never really lasted long enough as monsters would dwell within the shadows outside of camp.

It was in the dim glow of the kitchen lights that Luke finally caught a glimpse of Penelope, perched on the counter in her pyjamas, her hair adorned with two loose pigtails. A sense of relief washed over him at the sight of her safe and sound, yet it was short-lived as he noticed she wasn't alone.

His hand hovered over the door, hesitating as he listened to the soft murmur of conversation from within. With a steady breath, Luke pushed the door open ever so slightly, peering through the crack to catch a glimpse of Penelope. And you.

You, who looked older than when you first met in the infirmary. There was an air of maturity about you, a gracefulness that hadn't been there before. Your features seemed more refined, your presence commanding attention in a way that spoke of inner strength and resilience. Luke couldn't help but notice how your beauty had blossomed, surpassing the standards of mere mortal allure. It was a beauty that seemed to defy classification, uniquely yours yet undeniably captivating.

Despite this, Luke sensed a shift in your demeanour—a resignation, perhaps, to the reality of his ignorance. You had lost any hope you once harboured for him. His guarded nature would forever keep you at arm's length. And while part of him knew that this was for the best, a small, almost imperceptible part of him couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret.

For in the crossroads of his heart, amidst the shadows that threatened to consume him, there lingered a faint glimmer of longing. The thought of being intertwined with someone who could offer solace in his darkest moments, who could bring light to the depths of his despair, held an undeniable appeal. And as much as he tried to deny it, the chance of you approaching him once more tugged at the fringes of his resolve, tempting him to let down his guard and allow you closer than he ever dared to imagine.

"So, you wanna tell me what you're doing up this late?" You approached Penelope with a gentle smile, a cookie in your hand as a peace offering.

Your words hung in the air, gentle and coaxing, as you tried to draw Penelope out of her shell. Luke watched from the shadows, his gaze flickering between you and the young camper, a sense of admiration stirring at how you spoke to Penelope.

Penelope hesitated, her gaze shifting between the cookie in her hand and you.

"You don't know?" You persisted, your voice a soft murmur that carried a hint of playfulness. You settled beside Penelope on the counter, your posture was relaxed as you leaned in closer to her. "Is it... a secret?" you whispered.

Luke noted the subtle change in your demeanour, the way you seemed to adapt effortlessly to Penelope's shy nature. It was a side of you he hadn't seen before, one that resonated deeply with him.

As Penelope nodded in response to your question, you continued, your tone gentle and reassuring. "Let me tell you a secret," you offered, holding up your pinky finger as a symbol of trust. "I am the best secret keeper in this camp. I pinky promise."

After a moment's hesitation, Penelope tentatively reached out, her tiny finger linking with yours in a hesitant pinky promise. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

Penelope murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I got hurt."

"What?" You gasped in genuine concern, your eyes widening as you shifted your attention to the young camper. "Can I see?"

Penelope nodded silently, her arm outstretched towards you. Luke observed from his vantage point, his heart twisting with worry as he noted the faint hint of red near Penelope's elbow.

You took Penelope's arm into your hands gently, your touch tender and reassuring as you rolled up the sleeves of her pale pink pyjamas. Luke couldn't help but notice the familiarity of those pyjamas, a subtle reminder of Annabeth's kindness and resourcefulness in making Penelope feel at home.

"Oh, wow, that looks like it hurts," You remarked softly, your brows furrowing in sympathy as you retrieved a first aid kit from the nearby cabinets. "You're handling it very well," you praised Penelope, your tone gentle and encouraging. "So brave of you."

Penelope watched you attentively as you began to clean her wound, her small frame tense with discomfort. "I don't feel brave," she admitted quietly.

"No?" You glanced up at her, "why not?"

"I miss my mommy."

Her words were tinged with a sense of longing that struck a chord with both you and Luke.

Luke chewed on the inside of his cheek, his thoughts drifting to his own longing for his mother. Penelope's admission resonated with him deeply, reminding him of the ache that never truly faded, no matter how many years passed, no matter how deep he tried to bury it.

It was a sentiment shared by every demigod at camp, a silent ache that echoed through the cabins and training grounds. Yet, it was a pain rarely spoken aloud as if verbalizing it would make it all too real, too unbearable.

The yearning for a parent, for someone to fill the void left by their absence, weighed heavily on each camper's shoulders. It was a burden they carried silently, masking their vulnerability with bravado and determination. But for Penelope, the longing was raw in its innocence.

At just five years old, she was too young to fully comprehend the extent of her emotions. She couldn't grasp the complexities of her situation, the world of gods and monsters that surrounded her. All she knew was the absence of a mother's embrace, the absence of a comforting presence to soothe her fears and wipe away her tears.

It was a pain she didn't deserve, a burden too heavy for such a young soul to bear. The gods, in their arrogance and indifference, seemed oblivious to the lives they had shattered, and the pain they had inflicted upon their own children.

"Yeah?" You responded gently, "How much do you miss her?"

"This much," Penelope replied, her small hands spreading wide.

"Wow! That's a lot," you remarked, a sombre note underlying your tone as you processed Penelope's words. After a beat of silence, you shook off the heaviness of the moment and mustered a smile for her. "There we go. All cleaned up," you announced cheerfully, pressing a bandaid onto her elbow.

Penelope's smile widened in response, a glimmer of gratitude shining in her eyes as she kicked her feet. In a quiet voice barely above a whisper, she murmured her thanks to you.

"So, you wanna tell me how you got hurt?"

"I don't know." This had been the most Luke had ever seen Penelope talk, and while her voice was still timid, the words slipping out hesitantly, she seemed to confide in you. "I woke up because my arm hurt."

"The cut was just there?" You asked, and when she nodded, you hummed sympathetically. "...I get those too, you know."

Penelope's eyes widened, "You do?"

"Yes," you affirmed with a soft chuckle. "A lot of people do. You get them from your soulmate. Did your mom ever tell you about soulmates?"

"Sometimes."

"Well, a long time ago, humans used to have four arms, four legs, and two faces," You explained.

"What?"

"I know, right? Super freaky. So freaky that Zeus decided to split them in half. So, now we have two arms, two legs, and one face."

"What happened to the other half?"

"That's our soulmate. Our other half. And Aphrodite gave us a gift to help us find our soulmate." The smile that had adorned your face slowly waned, "Every time you get hurt, your soulmate gets hurt too."

"Is that why you have a cut on your face?"

The question lingered, hanging in the air like a whispered secret. Luke held his breath, his gaze fixed on you, waiting for your response. But instead of answering, you reached out to Penelope, a bittersweet smile gracing your lips as you guided her off the counter.

"Let's get you back to your cabin."

Your words were gentle, a soft reassurance for Penelope's sake, but Luke could sense the undercurrent of sadness that ran beneath them. As you led Penelope away, Luke's heart ached in a way that felt so familiar yet foreign at the same time. It burned the same way it did when he returned from the quest when he hated the world and everyone in it, but this time, the only person he could find himself hating was himself.

He retreated from the door, clutching the stuffed animal in his hands. He felt a fleeting reminder of the times he would hide from the monsters with Thalia.

Luke's mind swirled with discordant emotions, each thought a whirlwind of uncertainty. He knew he didn't deserve your answer, didn't deserve the solace of your words. He had made it clear too many times to count that he never wanted a soulmate, never wanted you.

But despite his protests, despite the walls he had built around his heart, Luke couldn't deny the tug that pulled him to you, the hunger in his soul that refused to be ignored. It was a longing he couldn't shake, a yearning that whispered of a connection he dared not embrace. Knowing that keeping you away was the only way to protect you from the darkness that lurked within him was what kept him sane.

"Luke?"

The sound of his name tore Luke out of his thoughts like a violent gust of wind. He spun around, finding you standing on the porch to the kitchens, Penelope at your side. She held your hand, a small beacon of warmth and light in the dimness of the night.

It seemed too perfect, too surreal, and Luke couldn't help but feel a pang of disbelief. Were you trying to kill him? It had been too long since the last time he spoke to you, let alone stood so close to you, and here you were, the epitome of what a demigod should be, even if you were still in the dreaded bright orange camp shirt.

"Hey," he managed to say.

You continued to descend the stairs, each step cautious and deliberate. "What- uh, what are you doing up?"

"I was actually looking for Penelope." Luke motioned to the girl hiding behind your legs. When he caught her eye, Penelope grinned and let go of your hand, darting over to Luke and jumping into his arms. He lifted her easily, a small smile tugging at his lips as he handed her the stuffed toy she had left behind.

"Oh." You hummed, "I didn't know you're a Hermes kid?"

"I'm unclaimed," Penelope chimed.

"For now," Luke's voice was gentle as he held Penelope in his arms. "And what were you doing up?"

"I was looking for a bandaid. I got lost." Penelope's words were punctuated by a soft yawn, and she nestled her head against Luke's shoulder, her exhaustion evident in every movement.

You hesitated, your gaze shifting to meet Luke's. "I found her by the canoes... near the dock."

The silence that settled between you felt heavy, suffocating almost as if it threatened to engulf you both. Luke found himself wandering back to the memories of you waiting for him at the dock during the summer nights and the regret that weighed heavily on his heart for never approaching you. He remembered the countless times he stood among the trees, watching you from afar, paralyzed by his own insecurities and fears.

Were you waiting for him there tonight?

No, you couldn't have.

Guilt gnawed at him, threatening to consume him whole. "Listen, I-"

"I'm gonna go." You cut him off abruptly, your voice carrying a hint of tension. "Counsellor duties and all. I've got cabin checks in the morning so... you know, I gotta print papers... and stuff..."

Luke frowned at your lame excuse. "It's midnight."

"It's never too early to start now." You huffed defensively. "Bye, Penelope."

"Bye," Penelope mumbled sleepily, her hand lazily waving in your direction as you walked away, disappearing into the darkness of the night and the trail leading to the Aphrodite cabin.

As they made their way back to the Hermes cabin, Luke held onto Penelope tightly, feeling the weight of her small body in his arms. The night air was cool against his skin, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of shame for the unease he noticed in you earlier. He wanted to say something, to bridge the gap that seemed to have formed between you, but the words remained trapped in his throat.

Once they returned to the warmth of their cabin, Luke moved with a careful grace, mindful not to disturb the sleeping campers around them. He gently placed Penelope back on her bed and tucked her in. But as he began to step away, her small hand shot out, wrapping around two of his fingers. Luke froze, eyes wide with surprise.

"Luke?" Penelope's voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the silence of the cabin like a knife.

"Yeah?" Luke's voice was equally quiet.

"I think your soulmate is really cool."

Penelope's words hung in the air, a simple statement that carried more weight than he could have ever anticipated.

Seven hours later, the memory of your face lingered in Luke's mind like an unshakeable ghost. Tossing back and forth in his bed, he tried to rid himself of the image, but it clung to him like a shadow. Each time he closed his eyes, your face flashed before him, haunting his thoughts. Even when he turned away, the spectre of Kronos lurked in the depths of his subconscious, a reminder of the choice that still loomed over him.

As morning broke over Camp Half-Blood, Luke found himself seated at the breakfast table, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of his fellow campers. Annabeth's presence brought a brief distraction.

She slid into the seat in front of him during breakfast and gave him a strange look, slightly out of breath from the morning rush, a half-eaten apple in hand.

"Hey," she greeted him, her voice carrying a note of concern. Pausing to tie back her braids, she studied him intently. "Who you looking for?"

Luke's response came too quickly, "No one," he replied, his voice strained. Thankfully, Chris had left earlier because he was in charge of the climbing wall in the morning, he wasn't there to tell Annabeth that Luke had been looking for you. His eyes scanned the sea of faces in the dining hall, a futile attempt to catch sight of you amidst the crowd. He felt pathetic. "What's up with you?"

Annabeth raised her brows. "Archery? Together? Remember? Or did you forget?"

"No. I didn't forget."

She only stared at him, skeptical.

"What?" he asked, "why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"Oh, I get it," Annabeth's smirk hinted at a newfound understanding, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She let out a laugh, the sound echoing through the dining hall, as she shook her head and rested her chin on her hand. "How long are you planning to keep this up for?"

Luke frowned, confused.

"This entire act you have with... you know," She didn't need to say your name for him to catch on. "It's getting out of hand, no?"

"I..." Caught off guard by her directness, Luke hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Choosing to play dumb, he feigned innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Right." Annabeth's knowing look pierced through his facade. She was always too perceptive for her own good. Fixing him with a narrowed gaze, she gave him a playful kick under the table, the impact enough to draw a startled reaction from Luke. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she took another bite of her apple before teasing him further. "Well, Grover said you're killing yourself."

"What?" He blinked at her, taken aback, "I'm not killing myself. Grover's just being dramatic."

"I don't think so." She said, slowly, carefully forming her words. "I mean, if I had a soulmate..."

Luke's defences bristled at the mention of soulmates, a topic he preferred to avoid. "Is this all you wanted to talk about?"

"I'm allowed to worry, "Annabeth reminded him, her words tinged with a gentle insistence. "Family, remember?"

The word 'family' carried weight, a reminder of their shared history and the bond they had forged over the years. It was a phrase Annabeth often employed to coax Luke out of his shell, to encourage him to confide in her. When they were younger, 'family' meant everything to Luke, thanks in no small part to Annabeth's influence.

"You don't need to worry," Luke assured her, though uncertainty gnawed at the edges of his resolve. "I know what I'm doing." But did he? Luke longed for the simplicity of a time before he met you when the idea of having a soulmate seemed like a distant fantasy. Now, every decision he made, every scar he bore, carried weight, knowing it could impact you in ways he couldn't comprehend.

"The least you can do is get to know her before she leaves."

Her words struck a chord within him, prompting Luke to cast a discreet glance around the dining hall, searching for you amidst the bustling crowd again.

"She's leaving?"

"Not forever, "Annabeth clarified with a chuckle, "Just on a quest. Search and rescue. Nothing fancy."

"...How do you know this?" he said after a moment.

"Chiron told me," Annabeth shrugged nonchalantly. "He also told me to tell you that the ceremony is tonight. I hope that doesn't kill you."

It did kill him a bit. At least, it felt like it did. Luke Castellan moved through camp with a sense of urgency, his strides purposeful yet tinged with a hint of apprehension. His fingers, calloused from years of wielding weapons, throbbed with a dull ache with the burn from the bow and arrow.

Shoulders tense, skin prickling under the relentless glare of the sun, he scanned the bustling campgrounds.

The weight of his bow rested heavily on his shoulder, the familiar weight offering a semblance of comfort amidst the chaos. With practiced precision, he counted the arrows in his quiver, his movements fluid and sure.

Then, he heard it—the sound that drew him like a siren's call. Your voice, lilting and laughter-filled, cut through the clamour of the camp, pulling him toward you like a magnet. There you stood, leaning against the doorway of the Hephaestus cabin, a clipboard clutched to your chest as you exchanged banter with Atticus, the skilled swordsmith whose craftsmanship had forged Luke's sword.

There was something different about you today, something delicate, more approachable than he had ever seen before. Last night, with Penelope, you had worn a similar expression—gentle, caring—but it was a side of you that Luke had never been privileged to witness. With him, you had always been guarded, reserved, as though afraid that he would cut or maim you.

As you scribbled something onto your clipboard, Luke found himself intrigued by the way your smile softened. It was a stark contrast to the confident facade you often wore, and for a moment, Luke felt a pang of guilt for pushing you away so soon.

Unbeknownst to you, you were drawing closer to Luke with each step, your path inexorably leading you toward him. Part of him craved to reach out, while another part hesitated, unsure of how to talk to you after all this time.

"Hey," Luke finally managed to utter as you drew near, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

You paused, a hint of surprise flickering across your features as you registered his presence. "Hi?" Your response was tentative, laced with a hint of confusion. After a moment's hesitation, you glanced down at your clipboard, "I'm not changing my rank on your cabin. I know three is low, but I was being generous."

A ghost of a smile tugged at Luke's lips. He was all too familiar with the chaotic nature of Cabin Eleven, where overcrowding was the norm and taking turns on the sleeping bags was treated as a game. "No, no. I just..." He trailed off, suddenly realizing he hadn't thought through the purpose of seeking you out. "I think we need to talk."

The confusion in your expression mirrored his own, and for a moment, there was a palpable sense of uncertainty hanging between you. "Talk?" you echoed.

Luke nodded, his gaze meeting yours earnestly. "Yes."

"You want to talk...? To me?"

"I hope it's not that bizzare."

He tried to smile for you, but it felt wrong. Luke couldn't shake the weight of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. He knew all too well that he hadn't been the embodiment of an ideal soulmate. In his mind, there lingered a pervasive belief that you harboured nothing but hatred towards him, something that you made obvious with every interaction between you two.

He wondered if this was the way you felt during the days he avoided you.

Luke had noticed the shift. There was a calculated recklessness to your actions, a deliberate disregard for your own well-being that bordered on self-destructive. You stubbed your toe on roots and table legs, tugged too hard at your hair, and scraped your knees. You started to pull your punches while sparring with Clarisse, just enough to ensure that he felt the sting of every blow. You never blocked a hit in the face, a twisted satisfaction in the knowledge that your pain mirrored his own. Together, you would limp into the infirmary, bloodied and bruised where you'd be grinning far too wide, barely offering an ounce of guilt when Luke held ice to his face.

You lowered the clipboard from your chest, letting it rest against your side as you faced Luke. The warm rays of the sun filtered through the dense foliage above, casting dappled shadows that danced across your features and forced you to squint against the brightness. The noise of children's laughter and the sound of feet pounding against the earth filled the air.

Your voice cut through the noise, "You've made it pretty clear that you want nothing to do with me, Luke," you began, your words carrying the weight of unspoken hurt. "You can't blame me for being surprised."

As you began to walk toward the next cabin, Luke fell into step beside you, "Can you just give me a chance—"

"I think you're too late for that."

"I know, I just—" Luke's words faltered, his thoughts tumbling over one another in a desperate attempt to articulate his feelings.

"I have nothing to say to you," you declared abruptly, stopping in your tracks and turning to face him. Luke skidded to a stop just in time, his gaze meeting yours as you regarded him with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "Seriously. I understand, okay? Did I come on too strong? Maybe. Yeah, I'll admit that" you acknowledged, your expression softening slightly. "Maybe coming to you hours after your shit quest was stupid, but I gave you space when you asked—"

"I just wanted to wish you luck on your quest," Luke interrupted, his voice gentle yet tinged with a hint of remorse.

With a quiet "Oh," you stepped back, your eyes momentarily averting his gaze. Were you embarrassed? Were you disappointed? Did you want to fight?

"Sorry," you mumbled, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "Thanks. I'm, uh, I'm seeing the Oracle after this. So... not technically a quest yet."

"It's your first one, right?" Luke's voice softened, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

"If you're worried about getting another scar, don't worry, I doubt it's anything dangerous," you reassured him, though your words held a hint of hesitation. There was a fleeting moment where your gaze lingered on him as if expecting a sudden change in his demeanour, but Luke remained still, his expression unreadable. "I just need to find Eros and go from there."

"Eros?" Luke's pace slowed, curiosity dancing in his eyes as he raised his brows in interest. Yet beneath the surface, a seed of annoyance sprouted, tendrils of jealousy winding their way through his thoughts. Your quest sounded far more intriguing than his own, and a bitter brew of envy churned in the depths of his stomach. Despite his inner turmoil, he attempted to play it off with a forced chuckle. "Has Cupid gone missing?"

"Apparently," you muttered bitterly under your breath, the resentment palpable in your tone. Luke sensed the edge to your words, though he pretended not to notice.

You sighed, "Is this conversation going anywhere? I really need to finish these cabin checks. I'm busy enough as it is."

Your words held an unspoken plea for him to leave, and though Luke understood, a pang of disappointment nagged at him. He couldn't entirely blame you; after all, he'd been an ass for months.

Both of you hesitated just outside the door to cabin eight, and Luke could feel your eyes on him. When you began to step away, his hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist. You froze, eyes wide with surprise.

“I also wanted to thank you,” He said, words rushing off his tongue.

“For what?” you asked.

“For last night.” He wasn't sure why he brought it up, why he felt like he needed you to know. "With Penelope."

"It was nothing," you said, voice barely audible. "We gotta look out for each other, right?"

Then, you left, you hurried up the short staircase to the cabin door, barely sparing him a glance before knocking. From his place, Luke could hear someone welcoming you into Artemis's cabin. He watched you until the door was shut behind you, vanishing you from his sight.

As the ceremony approached, the hues of twilight painted Camp Half-Blood in a golden glow, a serene yet foreboding atmosphere enveloping the surroundings. Luke's unease mounted with the setting sun, casting stretched-out shadows that seemed to carry something unnoticed. He couldn't shake the image of the figure from his nightmares, its monstrous visage haunting his thoughts with each passing moment. Yet, amidst the creeping darkness, there was an allure to the unknown, a temptation that beckoned him; its words, its promise of seeing the truth.

His gaze remained fixed on the white marble archway, half-expecting the nightmare to materialize at any moment, its twisted form emerging from the shadows with outstretched fingers. However, it was you who appeared, ascending the steps with graceful determination. Your presence seemed to dispel the shadows, bathing the surroundings in a radiant glow that eclipsed the fears that had once gripped Luke's heart. You were a blinding vice.

"Didn't think I'd see you here."

A sudden jab to his side sent him recoiling, a sharp pain shooting through his ribs. Luke winced, his gaze flickering to you as you flinched, subtly reaching for your own side. Quickly diverting his attention, he focused on the girl who had spoken.

Clarisse arched a brow at Luke, a smirk dancing on her lips. "Jumpy."

"Give him a break," Chris interjected, joining Luke's side and draping an arm over his shoulder. "Luke had a rough night, he lost a kid."

"Is that so?" Clarisse's grin widened. "And Chiron doesn't know? I'm assuming he doesn't otherwise, he wouldn't have picked you for this."

Luke scoffed and crossed his arms, "I'm the best swordsman at camp."

Luke's arms crossed defensively. "I'm the best swordsman at camp."

Clarisse's sarcasm was palpable. "Oh, I don't doubt it. The most humble, too," she retorted, unfazed by his glare. "But let's face it, a search and rescue isn't exaclty your thing anymore. You're more of an action kind of guy. You live off the glory of victory. Chiron knows that."

She was right, Chiron did know that. Which was why he rarely requested Luke to stand in unless there was a catch. Then, the flames in the torches flickered to life, and silence enveloped the candidates. Each demigod chosen by Chiron swiftly took their place, standing tall and resolute by a marble pillar, eager to showcase themselves as the prime choice for the quest. Anything for Kleos. Anything for glory.

Chiron nodded, his gesture sharp and decisive, as he placed a firm hand on your shoulder before addressing the assembly.

"The Oracle has confirmed that this quest is a search and rescue," he stated, casting a brief, confident glance in your direction. "One where you will use all your best efforts to bring Eros back to the safety of Mount Olympus and restore the lost balance. I'm sure you know where to find him." His gaze then shifted to the rest of the candidates. "Here, I have selected some of our most compelling candidates from which you will choose one to join you on your quest, ensuring your success. Annabeth Chase, Atticus Brang, Chris Rodrigues, Clarisse La-"

As Chiron listed the candidates, you carefully evaluated your options, your eyes calculating. In the dim torchlight, Luke could just discern the thin line etched across your face, stretching from the end of your brow to your-

"I choose Luke."

The ensuing silence felt like something they could all drown in, leaving everyone stunned. Even Annabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise, though there was a glint of amusement in her eyes as she spotted Luke's bewilderment. Surely, he must have misheard. There couldn't possibly be any way you had chosen him, could there?

Chiron turned to you, his tone measured. "Are you sure?"

You never shifted your gaze from Luke, who refused to meet your eyes as he stared fixedly at the pillar across from him. Yet, the clenching of his jaw, whether from anger or annoyance or something else, was enough to elicit a satisfied smile from you.

"I'm sure," you affirmed.

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