#race in the refuge fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joelmillerisapunk · 1 month

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Divide my legs like a mathematician

Dbf!Joel x virgin!reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 4K

Summary: you find yourself drawn to Joel's confidence and charm, unable to resist the forbidden fruit. After sharing an intimate moment by the pool, you're left feeling both guilty and exhilarated, eager for more.

Warnings: 18+, virginity loss, reader has first kiss, age gap (reader is early 20's and Joel is however old you need him to be.) Reader has hair and breasts, and wears a bikini, unprotected p in v, m&f oral receiving, fingering, Joel comes twice. Joel, being a typical middle-aged man, saying "you know.."

Notes: please do not read if this kind of dynamic or situation is offputting or something you do not like or enjoy or object to. Please be responsible for yourself and your fic reading. Love you bye 💝 and don't ask about the title unless you wanna hear and see something weird 😂

The sun beats down relentlessly, its fiery rays reflecting off the shimmering surface of the pool. You've sought refuge by its side, lying on a vibrant, floral towel, your swimsuit clinging to your skin. Your eyes flutter closed, and you breathe in the scent of chlorine and sunscreen, letting the warmth of the day lull you into a state of peaceful relaxation.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a shadow eclipsing the sun. You squint up, the brightness giving way to the familiar face of Joel Miller, your dad's old buddy. The one you haven't seen in a few years.

His salt-and-pepper hair, flecked with silver, is styled in a casual yet purposeful way. His muscular build is evident through his t-shirt and swim trunks. Joel's eyes, a stunning shade of chocolate brown, crinkle at the corners as he turns his attention to you, a smirk playing on his lips. "Well, well, well, who do we have here?" he asks, his gaze sweeping over your body in a way that makes you feel a bit nervous.

You shield your eyes from the sun with your hand before you reply, "Hey Joel, my dad's not here. He had to run some errands."

Joel chuckles, a small smile playing on his lips. "Well, good thing you're here to keep me company while I wait for him.”

You roll your eyes, but you can't help the heat that rises to your face. "I'm not here to entertain you," you say, trying to sound stern.

Joel chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "You know you've sure grown up since I last saw ya, more beautiful than ever."

You can't help but feel a little flattered by his words, even if you try to hide it. You've always had a bit of a crush on Joel, but you know that he's off-limits, the forbidden fruit. He's your dad's friend, and he's much older than you. You've never even had a boyfriend, but there's something about him that you find irresistible. Maybe it's his confidence, or his sense of humor, or the way he makes you feel when he looks at you. Whatever it is, you can't help but be drawn to him.

You try to play it cool. "Oh, please, you're just saying that because you feel awkward being alone with me and you're trying to be nice."

"Maybe, maybe not," he admits. "But that doesn't change the fact that you're beautiful."

You feel your heart flutter at the way the word rolls off his tongue, but you try to hide your reaction. "Prove it," you say, challenging him.

Joel raises an eyebrow, chuckling. "Prove it?" he repeats. "How do you propose I do that?"

You shrug, trying to act nonchalant. "I dunno, race me to the other side of the pool, maybe?"

Joel's laughter rings out, his eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief as he accepts the challenge. "You're on.” With a swift and fluid motion, he peels off his shirt, revealing his muscular chest and arms. The garment lands carelessly on a nearby chair, but you barely notice as your gaze follows the contours of his physique. You notice how broad he is and how beautiful in return you think he is.

Joel dives into the pool, cutting through the water with surprising grace and agility. The splash startles you, breaking your reverie, and you take a deep breath diving into the pool swimming as fast as you can towards the other side of the pool.

The cool water feels refreshing against your skin, but you're determined to win the race. You swim with all your might, your legs kicking furiously behind you. But despite your best efforts, Joel reaches the other side just before you do.

You come up for air, panting slightly, and Joel grins at you. "I win."

You stick your tongue out at him. "Fine, you win," you concede. "But that doesn't mean you're right about me being beautiful."

Joel's expression softens, and he looks at you with a seriousness that takes you by surprise. "You know darlin, I'm not just sayin' it to flatter you," he says as he gets out of the pool and then helps you out. "I've always thought you were beautiful. But now, you're all grown up, and I can't help but notice the way you move, the way you challenge me, it's all so - intoxicating."

His words make you feel self-conscious, but also excited. You've never had anyone talk to you like this before, and it's both scary and thrilling.

Joel notices your reaction and takes a step closer to you. "I know this is unexpected, and maybe even a little inappropriate," he says. "But, I can't help the way I feel. And I think you feel it too, don'tcha darlin?”

"I-I don't know," you stammer.

Joel's expression softens, and he reaches out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face. "It's okay, take your time. I'm not goin’ anywhere." You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. You've never felt this way before, and you're not sure what to do. "It's okay," he repeats. "I know it’s a lot to take in.” Joel moves so his body mere inches away from yours. "You ever done anythin' before, you got a boyfriend?”

You pause, feeling the air get tense. You can't believe how abrupt he is to just ask like this. You shake your head, feeling a bit ashamed you've never even kissed a boy before, let alone have a boyfriend.

Joel can see the uncertainty in your eyes, but he also sees curiosity and desire. He takes a deep breath, and his eyes never leave yours. "You know, I can teach you how to please a man, how to be pleasured. I wanna make sure that when you do decide to be with someone, you're not so inexperienced."

Your eyes flitter around, never fully meeting Joel's gaze. "I dunno I've never done anything like this before," you admit.

Joel's expression softens, and he reaches out to gently take your hand. "I know babygirl," he says. "And I'm not going to push you into anything. But I want you to know that I'm here for you, if you want me to be."

You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. You know that what Joel is suggesting is wrong, but you can't help feeling like a snake, trying to convince yourself to take a bite of the juiciest looking apple you’ve ever seen. He's always been so helpful, and now that he's offering to show you the ways of intimacy, you can't help but be tempted. You really don't want to be so inexperienced when it's your real first time. "I want you to teach me Joel," you whisper.

Joel's face lights up, "I promise to make this a learning experience for you, somethin’ you'll never forget."

He takes your hand and leads you to a secluded spot by the pool, sits down on the grass, and pulls you down next to him. "First things first, let's start with the basics. You ever touch yourself?"

You shake your head, feeling yourself fill with embarrassment.

"S'okay," he says. "This is all new to you. Just do what I do, okay?"

He takes your hand and guides it to your bottoms, helping you to slip your fingers under the fabric. You can feel the heat radiating from your core, and you gasp as Joel's and your fingers brush against your clit.

"Just relax," he says, his voice soothing. "S’all about pleasure."

As you continue to touch yourself, you can feel something building inside of you. It's a strange, unfamiliar sensation, but it's also incredibly pleasurable. You moan softly as Joel continues to guide your hand, his lips close to your ear.

"That's it," he murmurs, his lips close to your ear. "Just relax and enjoy the sensation." You can feel the heat radiating from your core, and you can feel your body tensing as you get closer and closer to your first orgasm. Joel can sense this too, and he places a hand on your belly, feeling each jolt and tremor as it passes through you.

"Just let go, baby," he whispers. "I've got you. You're safe."

But suddenly, you pull your hand away, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"I can't," you say, your voice shaking. "It feels too weird."

Joel can see the look of fear and uncertainty in your eyes, and he pulls you against his chest.

"Yes, you can, I promise," he says, his voice soothing and reassuring. "Just let yourself feel the pleasure. Let me help you, baby. Tell me what you're feeling, baby," he says, his voice gentle and coaxing. "What does it feel like when I touch you like this?" He starts rubbing circles on your clit again.

You take a deep breath, trying to put your feelings into words. "It feels...good," you say, your voice hesitant. "But it's also scary. I've never done this before."

"I know, baby," Joel coos. "But there's nothing to be afraid of. I'm here with you, and I'll never let anything bad happen to you."

Joel can see that you need a different approach, something that will help you to relax and let go of your inhibitions.

He pulls away from you, his eyes meeting yours. "Let's try something a little different," he says with a gentle voice. Before you can protest, Joel is moving down your body, his lips pressing gentle kisses against your skin. When he reaches your thighs he gently guides them further apart, leaving kisses all the way until he reaches your swimsuit bottoms, he pulls them to the side, exposing your clit. You gasp as you feel his tongue flick against your clit, the sensation almost too much to bear.

"Just relax," Joel murmurs, his voice soothing. "Let me show you how good this can feel."

He continues to lick and suck at your clit, his fingers slipping inside of you to stroke your G-spot. You can feel pleasure building inside of you, more intense than anything you've ever felt before.

"Yes, just like that," Joel murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Let go, babygirl. Let yourself feel it."

And suddenly, you do. The orgasm crashes over you like a wave, so intense that you can barely breathe. You cry out whatever vowels and constants your brain can, and your body shakes with the force of it. Joel doesn't stop, his tongue and fingers continuing to work their magic. Another orgasm builds inside of you, even more intense than the first. You can feel yourself on the edge, your body trembling with pleasure.

"Come on, babygirl, come again, such a good girl."

And you do. This orgasm tears through you like a lightning bolt, so intense that you see stars behind your closed eyes.

Finally, the orgasm subsides, and you collapse back onto the grass, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Joel moves beside you, his arms wrapped around you as he holds you close to his body.

"How do you feel?" he murmurs, his lips close to your ear.

You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. "I feel...amazing," you say, quietly.

Joel smiles, his eyes meeting yours. "I'm glad," he says. "That's exactly how I wanted you to feel." Joel's expression is gentle as he looks at you, gauging your reaction. He then reaches down and slowly starts to undo the drawstring of his swim trunks. "You ever seen a cock before?"

You shake your head, feeling a mix of curiosity and nervousness. Joel seems to sense your apprehension, and he takes his time as he pulls down his swim trunks, revealing his erect length. Your eyes widen as you take in the sight before you, the way the sunlight dances off his smooth, taut skin, the way the veins protrude just slightly, creating a roadmap. Your gaze drifts down to the base, where the same salt and peppered hair that graces his head dusts his pelvis. Joel gives you a moment to take it all in before speaking again, his voice barely above a whisper, "Do you wanna touch it?" The question hangs in the air.

You nod, feeling a surge of excitement and curiosity. Joel's hand finds yours, guiding it towards his stiffening cock. You can feel the heat radiating off of him. As you wrap your fingers around his shaft, you marvel at the weight and firmness of it in your hand.

"Mmm, that feels so good," Joel moans, his eyes fluttering closed as he relaxes into your touch.

Encouraged by his reaction, you begin to explore his cock more fully. You stroke your hand up and down its length, feeling it twitch and throb beneath your fingertips. Joel helps guide your movements, his hand covering yours as he shows you the rhythm he likes best.

"Tighten your grip a little... yeah, just like that," he murmurs, his breath hitching as you increase the pressure. Joel's moans become louder and more frequent, and you can feel him grow even harder in your hand. It takes no time at all for Joel to reach his peak.

"Fuck baby, I'm gonna come," Joel gasps, his hips thrusting forward.

You pull your hand away, unsure of what to do. Joel opens his eyes and looks at you. You look like a deer in headlights, and the sight almost makes him come without help. "It's okay, baby," he says with a gentle voice. "You don't have to do anything. Just wanted to give you an idea of what it feels like, what it looks like, what it tastes like," he says softly, "But, if you're curious, I can show you how to pleasure a man with your mouth."

You nod, your curiosity getting the better of you. "I want to, I wanna learn."

Joel smiles, his eyes softening. "Okay, just remember to take it slow. There's no rush."

Joel takes your hand and guides it down to his cock, which is already rock-hard and pulsing with desire. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, and you're eager to explore him further. With a gentle nudge, he encourages you to take him into your mouth.

At first, you're hesitant. You've never done this before, and you're not sure what to do. But Joel is patient and kind, gently stroking your hair and murmuring words of encouragement.

"That's it, baby," he whispers. "Just relax and take your time. Mmm, yeah, just like that."

Emboldened by his words, you begin to explore him more fully. You wrap your lips around the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around the sensitive tip. Joel lets out a low moan of pleasure, and you can feel his hips bucking up towards you.

Encouraged you take him deeper into your mouth. You suck harder, your cheeks hollowing out as you work him over. Joel's moans grow louder and more frequent. Suddenly, he grabs a handful of your hair, guiding your head up and down in a steady rhythm.

"Fuck, baby, I'm gonna come," he gasps, his voice tight with pleasure.

You pull back, letting his cock slip out of your mouth with a wet pop. Joel opens his eyes and looks at you, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Keep goin’ like you were, just swallow if you can, it's natural."

Joel's eyes flutter closed as he helps guide your head back down to his cock, savoring the feeling of him growing hard in your mouth once more. You wrap your lips around him, taking him in slowly, and begin to move your head in a gentle rhythm. Joel's breathing grows heavy as he lets out a low moan, his fingers finding their way into your hair.

You can feel him tensing up, and then, with a shudder, he comes, filling your mouth with warmth. The taste is strange and unfamiliar, but you swallow, determined to please him. You pull your mouth away from him quickly, probably a little too quickly. "Joel," you say, your voice hesitant as you look over at him, catching his breath. "Can we... do it?"

Joel looks at you, his expression serious. "Do what, babygirl?" he asks, puffing out a response through caught breathes even though he knows what you're asking.

"You know...have sex," you whisper.

Joel's eyes widen, and he looks at you with a mix of surprise and desire. "Baby, I just came," he says, his voice gentle. "Let me catch my breath for a bit, and then we can figure somethin' out."

Joel's eyes meet yours, and he can see the slight hint of disappointment in them. But he understands, and he takes your face gently in his hands, leaning in close so that his mouth is almost touching yours. "Don't worry, babygirl," he says, his voice soft and soothing. "I'll make it worth your while." You can feel your heart flutter at his words, and you can't help but smile. Joel's breathing begins to return to normal, and he pulls back slightly, looking at you with a serious expression. "I think I have a couple of ideas," he says. "But, it's gonna take some effort on both our parts."

You nod, eager to please him and experience more of the pleasure he's shown you.

Joel takes a deep breath, looking at you with a serious expression. "I want you to take your top off."

You look at him in surprise, your hands instinctively going to cover your chest. "What? Why?" You ask, your voice hesitant.

Joel reaches out to take your hands in his, his eyes meeting yours. "Because it's a natural part of a woman's body, and it's one of the things that turns me on the most," he explains. "And I want to be able to pleasure you fully, without any barriers between us."

You bite your lower lip, you've never been naked in front of anyone before, and the thought of doing so with Joel is both terrifying and thrilling. But you trust him, and you want to please him. Taking a deep breath, you nod your head, signaling your agreement. Joel's eyes softened as he smiled, his hands moving to gently guide you onto his lap. You feel a flutter in your stomach as you straddle him, your thighs brushing against his. His fingers deftly undo the knot that holds your bikini top in place, and the fabric falls away, leaving your breasts exposed to the warm summer air. You feel a shiver run down your spine, your nipples hardening in response to the exposure.

Joel's eyes darken as he takes in the sight of your bare chest, his breath hitching in his throat.

"Mmm, so perfect baby.” Before you can respond, Joel leans in, his mouth capturing one of your nipples. You gasp at the sensation, your hands instinctively going to his hair as he sucks and licks at your breast. Joel's hands come up to cup your other breast, his fingers teasing your nipple. You had never felt anything like this before, the sensation of his mouth on your breast, his hands caressing your body. It's intoxicating.

Joel's hands start to wander down your body, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. He reaches your bikini bottoms, and you can feel him tugging at the fabric. "Lift up for me, baby,"

You do as he asks, lifting your hips off the ground as he pulls your bikini bottoms down your legs. You're completely naked now, exposed to Joel's gaze, but instead of feeling embarrassed, you feel a thrill run through your body. Joel's eyes are dark with desire as he takes in the sight of your bare body.

"Fuck, babygirl, you are so damn delicious," his hands reach out to touch you. He runs his fingers along your inner thighs, teasing you. "Spread your legs for me, baby, nice and wide," he says, his voice low and commanding.

You comply, spreading your legs apart.

He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "You have no idea how fucking sexy you are, do you? I've been dreaming about this for years, imagining what it would be like to touch you, to taste you."

You gasp as Joel's hand slips between your legs, his fingers finding your clit. "You're so wet," he growls, his fingers circling your clit in slow, deliberate movements. "I can feel how much you want me, how much you need me. You think you're ready, baby?"

You nod, feeling a surge of excitement and nervousness. Joel moves between your legs, his body hovering over yours. He looks into your eyes, searching for any signs of doubt or hesitation.

"If you want to stop at any time, just tell me," he says. "I won't be upset."

You nod and shyly say, “I'm ready.”

Joel positions himself at your entrance, his tip pressing gently against your opening. He looks into your eyes, searching for any signs of discomfort or fear. "Just breathe, babygirl," his voice soothes you a bit. "It might feel a little uncomfortable at first, but I promise it'll feel good real soon."

You nod, taking a deep breath as Joel starts to push inside of you. You feel a sharp pain as he breaks through your barrier, and you can't help but gasp at the sensation. “Ah, Joel, it hurts," you whimper, your eyes watering.

Joel curses under his breath, his eyes filled with concern. "I'm sorry, babygirl," he says, his voice gentle. "I know, I know, I gotcha.” He continues to move slowly, giving your body time to adjust to the intrusion. You can feel yourself stretching to accommodate him, and you can't help but wince at the discomfort. Joel leans down, almost kissing you, his lips soft and gentle against yours. "It's okay, babygirl," he murmurs. "Just relax and let me take care of you."

As he continues to move, the pain starts to fade, replaced by a strange, unfamiliar sensation. It's not entirely unpleasant, but it's not exactly comfortable either. Joel seems to sense your confusion, and he starts to move his hips in a slow, circular motion. "Feel that, babygirl?" he touches your lower belly where you can feel his cock hitting. "That's your body gettin’ used to me. It's gonna feel good soon, I promise."

And he's right. As he continues to move, the sensation begins to shift, becoming something more pleasurable. You can feel yourself getting wetter, your body responding to Joel's movements. "That's it, babygirl," Joel murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Let yourself feel it. Let yourself feel me."

He starts to move faster, his hips thrusting harder against yours. You think you can feel yourself getting closer to another orgasm and Joel can sense it too. "You like that, babygirl? You like feeling my cock inside of you? You like feeling me stretch you open, fill you up?"

You nod, a small whimper coming from the back of your throat.

"Good," he breathes, pushing his hips deeper into yours, the friction making him groan. "Tell me when you're gonna come, sweetheart."

You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "I-I'm gonna come," you gasp.

Joel's eyes widen, and he nods, his hips thrusting harder against yours. "Come for me, babygirl," he growls, his voice low and commanding. "Come on my cock."

The orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, so powerful that it feels like every nerve in your body is firing at once. You can't help but cry out, a loud, primal sound that probably alerts everyone in close proximity to what's happening. Your body convulses with pleasure, every muscle tensing and then releasing as waves of ecstasy wash over you.

Joel's thrusts become more erratic, his hips slamming against yours with a fierce urgency as he chases his own release. His breath comes in short, sharp gasps, each one hot and moist against your ear. "Fuck, babygirl," he groans. "I'm so close. I'm gonna come too." You can feel him throbbing inside of you, each pulse of his cock sending another shiver of pleasure through your body. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him deeper inside of you, wanting to feel every inch of him as he fills you up with his warmth.

And then he's there, his body tensing as he reaches his own peak. "Fuck, babygirl," he groans. "Oh fuck!" He collapses on top of you, his breath hot and heavy against your neck.

You can feel his heart pounding against your chest. For a moment, neither of you say anything, both of you too caught up in the afterglow of what just happened.

Finally, Joel lifts his head, looking down at you with a mixture of awe and desire. "Fuck, babygirl," he murmurs, his voice still low and husky. "That was...incredible."

You wrap your arms around him, feeling a surge of affection and gratitude. "Thank you," you whisper into his ear as you instinctively start stroking his hair.

Joel looks up at you, "What are you thankin’ me for?"

You feel a mix of embarrassment and shyness. "For showing me how good it can feel."

Joel smiles. "You're welcome, baby girl. I'm glad I could be the one to show you." He leans in, his lips capturing yours in a soft, gentle kiss. You can feel yourself getting lost in the moment, in the feeling of Joel's lips on yours, in the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

Your first kiss.

But all too soon, the bliss comes to an end. Joel pulls away, his eyes meeting yours. "I better get goin'," he says. "Your dad will be back soon."

You nod, feeling a surge of disappointment. "Okay," you say kinda pouty.

Joel smirks and lifts your chin in his hand so you're looking at him. "Don't look so sad, babygirl," he says, his voice gentle. "This is just the beginning. I promise to show you so much more."

With that, he gives you a quick kiss on the forehead and he gets up, putting his swim trunks back on. You watch as he walks away, your heart heavy in your chest. You know that what just happened was wrong, that it's not something that should have happened. But you can't help the way you feel, the way your body responds to Joel's touch. You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. You know that you should feel guilty, that you should be ashamed of what just happened. But all you can feel is a sense of excitement, of anticipation. You know that this is just the beginning.

And you can't wait.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller #pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #virgin!reader

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m1d-45 · 8 months

Note

i love your sagau/imposter au fics so much (esp kazuha’s),, do you think nahida would be able to sense if the creator isnt an imposter because of her having access to Irminsul and being able to see if there are records of them? anyways okok so uh hear me out, maybe the creator tries to seek safety in sumeru while they’re being hunted? sorry if this is a lengthy ask ekwjkwm anyways thanks for reading, ur amazing !

sandy refuge

word count: 3.4k

-> warnings: spoilers for the final sumeru archon quest

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr

< masterlist >

sumeru was a deadly nation.

liyue was guarded by the adepti, and inazuma’s storms tore the sea around the archipelago to shreds, but sumeru…

sumeru, the land of wisdom, headed by academics and led by scholars and sages. the nation split in two, lush forests barely a stones throw from barren deserts, believers of two (three?) separate gods walking side by side through the city. for a nation so divided, it was rare to get everybody to agree on something, every decision inevitably and invariably leaving some group of people unsatisfied.

and yet, there they were, united under one flag. eremites and the matra, the beige robes of the desert dwellers shifting in the wind besides the glittering armor of the akademiya’s soldiers, spears and swords aligned towards the same target.

it would be beautiful, if only you weren’t the one they rallied against.

you didn’t know how long you had been running when you managed to work your way past the wall, nor how long you had managed to stumble across sand dunes before finding your current oasis.

literally. trees swayed around a large pool of clear water, thick grass cushioning your knees as you barely hesitated before cupping some in your hands and drinking. it was blessedly cool, and you were tempted to swim in it and let it soothe the continuous heat from the desert sun. sadly, you didn’t have a spare set of clothes, and you weren’t keen on stripping when the matra could storm the place at any moment.

or the eremites. or the corp of thirty. or literally anybody else, since you’ve apparently been declared public enemy number one.

you splashed some water on your face and over your head, goosebumps rising where a drop raced beneath the collar of your shirt. how water was so cold when the sand was so hot, you didn’t know, but you weren’t going to complain.

after drinking a few more handfuls of the water, you finally looked around. there was a large spire of stone next to the oasis, flanked by large trees, with a thankfully abandoned hilichurl hut beside it.

you try not to think about how an archer would have had an easy shot as you were drinking.

at the base of a few of the trees is something green, and you remember the nuts that grew in the desert. you were too wary of the henna berries and the cacti they grew on to try and eat those, but you distinctly remember these being used in a few recipes.

all you could do was hope they were edible raw.

you stood—your vision blurred, the ground tilting, but you ignored it—and walked around the oasis, inspecting the green and hoping it wasn’t a fungus.

good news, it wasn’t. bad news, it was the husk of one of the nuts, hollow without any of the fruit inside. fresh, by the looks of it, the green leaves squishing instead of crumbling when you kicked at them.

great.

you sat on the curved trunk of one of the trees, holding up a hand to shade your eyes as you looked up. you could see another nut, hanging off the top of a tree, but.. the bark of the trees were smooth, and any of your athletic abilities were worn away by exhaustion and malnutrition.

you let your head drop and tried not to focus on your hunger, instead inspecting the mix of sand and grass beneath your feet. sand and grass. all of sumeru, represented right at your feet. hot, slippery sand, and cool, spiky grass. the desert and the forest, two wildly different ecosystems, and yet… both drove you out.

you tried not to cry, to push away the helplessness of the situation, but you couldn’t. what had you done, you wondered, for your very face to cause such an uproar? for two separate groups of people, divided in location, name, and faith to ally in their shared hatred of you? if somebody asked you what the millelith, matra, and eremites had in common about six months ago, you couldn’t have answered. you’d have thought about it, maybe, but drawn a blank outside of ‘defenders.’

but what were they defending? and how were you a threat?

when the first tear fell, so did something else.

you jumped at the dense thud, digging your nails—overgrown, bitten at, broken—into the bark as you searched for the source of the noise.

a large fruit had fallen, the one you were eyeing earlier by the looks of it. it sat atop the empty husk of another, magically fallen from the tree by seemingly nothing.

you weren’t going to complain.

you slid off the tree, reaching for the nut, grabbing the stem and pulling, but dropped it just as fast. a fungus was standing just behind it, large orange eyes looking up at you.

you were frozen. would it attack you? was it trying to eat? did they even need to? could you get sick from fungus spores? even if you couldn’t, getting hurt wasn’t worth the meal…

the fungus tilted to one side, then the other, bumping the large fruit towards you.

it… was giving it back?

you stared, but the fungus didn’t move. when you carefully tugged at the nut, slowly drawing it closer so you could properly pick it up, it didn’t move. it just watched you, the rim of its cap slightly falling into its eyes.

you sat back on the tree, pulling it into your lap. the outer leaves were coarse, softening as you pulled away the many layers. there was a high chance some of the inner leaves were edible, but you didn’t want to take chances. the fruit itself was a pale green, easily tearing under your fingers. it was soft, with the barest edge of sweetness that had you prying up more. it wouldn’t make for a full meal, but it was certainly far better than nothing.

you checked on the fungus every once in a while, but it just stood there. by your guess, it was the floating anemo kind, but where was its group? fungi rarely appeared alone, and part of you felt bad.

(felt bad. for a fungus. you’re in dirty, torn clothes and on the run for your life, and you still find the empathy for a fungus. at least you knew your morals were still intact.)

you offered a piece of the nut to the fungus, but it didn’t react. instead it turned, floating into the air and drifting away.

…alright.

you try to eat the fruit slowly, as to not make yourself sick, taking breaks to sip more water from the lake to dim the sweetness. you didn’t know how long the fruit would stay good now that you’d opened it, but you were trying to enjoy it. its not as if you were overflowing with excess, and you likely couldn’t linger here long. you don’t even know why you resorted to the desert anyway.. between cyno, the ruins, scorpions, the primal constructs.. to say it was dangerous was an understatement. even if you made it to the far west, the pari were there, and you didn’t think they would take too kindly to you. fontaine wouldn’t be much better, provided you somehow crossed the sea around it…

nowhere was safe. you supposed that was the point, that nobody would give you refuge, but it still hurt. you didn’t think you’d ever land in this situation when you first downloaded the game..

whatever. you’re not going to go down that path for the nth time. you hold the remains of the nut in one arm as you stand, picking off chunks as you walk toward the hilichurl hut. with any luck there would be something useful inside, or at least be a safe place to rest temporarily.

the camp looks like it’s been clear recently, which is both good and bad. good, because neither hilichurls nor patrols should come by here for a bit, but bad because it lowers your chances of finding anything useful. there’s no arrowheads or vegetables, not even embers in the fire pit, all the supply boxes long since broken.

at least it’s shelter. at least you had food today, and (hopefully) clean water. small wins, small wins…

you gather your strength and begin to drag all the rubble into the hut, using what was left of their training dummies to make a hollow pile. hopefully it would just look like trash to anyone walking by, and could maybe keep you warm. the scraps of furs littered over the camp were matted with something you didn’t want to think about, so this was your best bet.

man, you missed your bed.

you returned to the oasis for more water, scrubbing off some of the dirt from your arms and face. you wouldn’t be clean for long, what with the dirt floor you’d picked as your shelter, but it felt nice. a topical fix for a bone deep wound.

you didn’t try to clean your clothes, eyeing the sun dipping in the sky. having wet clothes wouldn’t help at night, even if it might feel good. perhaps tomorrow? yes, tomorrow. tomorrow you could scrub at your shirt—*blood doesn’t clean easily without soap*—and try to undo some of the knots in your hair, maybe even use leaves and some of the scraps of twine around the camp to bring some water with you.

tomorrow. you got this. surely.

(just ignore the fact that you don’t know where in the desert you are. or how easy it would be to get lost, or dehydrate. nope. this is a perfectly fine and normal situation that you have an okay amount of control over. you got this. you have to.)

you return to the hut, retrieving the other half of your fruit and taking it with you into your pitiful shelter. at least you didn’t have to worry about rain…

it was only slightly cramped beneath the pile of junk, but you had enough room for you and your food. you laid there for a long time, occasionally peeling off pieces to eat. you didn’t know how much was left, and you didn’t think about it, distracting yourself by thinking about tomorrow. if you were clever with some sticks you could fashion some wider soles for your shoes to get more grip on the sand, or maybe a hat to keep from burning… but there was water and food to worry about, but the area along the wall was certainly dangerous, but it might be worth it if it meant you lived a little longer…

you fell asleep at some point, the faint sweetness of your dinner lingering on your tongue.

normally, waking up to someone barely a foot from your person would be unsettling. in your situation, it was terrifying.

you immediately pushed yourself back, crawling backwards away from nahida. she was kneeling, seeming surprised at your actions. you almost wondered how she was out here, and in your survey of the area, it clicked.

you weren’t in the hut anymore. you’d missed it in your fear, but you were lying on grass, in a small meadow. you didn’t pay too much attention to it though, putting a hand to your chest to try and calm your heart.

“just a dream,” you breathed, and nahida’s expression fell. not into anger, more.. sadness?

“i’m sorry if i startled you.” her voice was soft, but flat, motions stiff as she stood up and dusted off her dress.

what a weird dream. first you’re lucid, then she’s here… maybe it was wishful thinking. maybe your brain had finally had enough.

“it’s fine,” you said, taking another look around the field. tall trees arched high above you, the bushes and ferns between them reminding you of the rainforest. in the center were three chairs, with various plates laid out on the table between them. you stood, automatically wiping for any grass caught on you, only to find that you were actually wearing clean clothes again—one of your favorite outfits, actually.

you mostly ignored nahida as you walked to the table, looking over the various dishes. you recognized a few as sumeru recipes, but not all of them, deciding to pick at a bowl of fruit instead. you’re not sure how dreams work here—you haven’t had many since coming to teyvat—but it feels safer to stick with a food you’ve actually tried before.

(you ignore the nut from the oasis. calculated risk.)

“i hope they’re to your liking?” nahida’s voice is hesitant as she comes to your side, sitting in one of the chairs. you don’t do the same.

“i’m surprised i remember so many of these,” you say instead, looking over the sheer variety of food laid out. your subconscious has done well.. almost a bit too well.

“eat. you need the energy.”

“i’ll just miss them in the morning, and it’s not like they’ll give me any actual nutrition.”

“…please, my god.”

your head whips to her in an instant, the fruit falling from your hand as if it was poison. it could be, considering everything.

even after all these months, you’d let your guard down. in front of the one god who had control over dreams, you ate of her food and showed that you were weak.

nahida raises her hands, and you have half a mind to grab a knife off the table. it wouldn’t do anything, but it would make you feel better. “it’s just me. there’s nobody else in this dream.”

you should have known better. “leave me alone.”

“i mean you no harm, i only-“

you put your hands over your ears and close your eyes, trying to make yourself wake up. you pictured the walls of the hut, of your makeshift shelter and the leaves of last night’s dinner. you pretend you can’t hear her voice, that the only sound is the whisper of the wind.

if only you’d remembered her powers quicker, or perhaps discovered yours sooner.

you don’t know how long it took you to break free from the dream, or if you managed to break it at all. you just knew that you woke up to the sounds of talking from outside your hut, the words were faint but still discernible from the wind. two voices, one soft and one rough, picking their way around the oasis.

you didn’t dare try to run, instead shifting some of the wood in your pile to cover the entrance. where could you even go if they found you? west was dangerous, east was deadly, north led you into either a sandstorm or a dead-end sea, and south was entirely uncharted, and that was assuming you even made it that far.

they came closer, and you reached for one of the smaller planks in your small shelter. it was still about the length of your forearm, and though the rest of the stack shifted, you felt a bit safer. maybe you could hide in a cave for a while until they left? no, that would mean you’d have to get enough of a lead to lose them, and you doubted you could run that fast.

“-abandoned.” there was a sound like a rock kicked against the side of the hut, covering the sound of your breath as you recognized the voice. “you sure this is the right place?”

wanderer.

“i’m certain, i saw it myself.”

and nahida. she probably tapped into your mind to see where you were trying to wake up to… it would be clever if your life wasn’t on the line.

footsteps drew ever closer, and it was getting hard to judge the distance. the hut was empty save for your little scrap pile, but how close was too close? could you even have a chance with wanderer’s skill? not to mention the dendro archon…

maybe you were doomed from the start. there was no good ending for you, just a constant delay of the fate that you dodged when you first set foot on this planet.

how long has it been? how much time have you borrowed? teyvat had ghosts, would you become one? would you return to earth? did your earth even exist anymore? this was not the time for this debate…

a shadow moved, and nahida’s voice was far closer than it was before. “divine one?”

you bit your cheek as to not laugh. ‘divine one.’ she already had a god, the one that had ordered this mess to begin with. the first person you ran into, ironically, who had on sight declared you a criminal. you didn’t want to be associated with that person at all, thank you. did she think that you thought you were the god? you wouldn’t be hiding if you did.

“buer. you’re talking to a pile of sticks.”

“i’m aware.” her voice grew quieter, like she’d turned around. “but we need to be patient.”

“there’s an easier way to do this, you know.”

“after all that’s happened? there’s no easy solution to this.”

“that’s not what i…” he sighed. “can i show you something?”

“what is it?”

the air hissed, your pile broken by a blade of wind down the middle. the anemo curved around you, acting as a shield as the wood splintered and flew. you quickly pushed yourself up, sitting against the wall and looking between the two of them. nahida looked terrified, and the shock on wanderer’s face is comical. looks like he didn’t expect you to actually be in there.

he removed his hat from his head, quickly dropping to one knee, nahida doing the same barely a moment after. “my god.. i apologize for my haste.”

pardon?

nahida lifted her head, meeting your eyes with a hand to her chest. “and i’m sorry for invading your dream earlier. i just wanted to find you, and when i noticed you were in sumeru..”

wanderer is too prideful to apologize to anybody he doesn’t absolutely need to, even for a plan.. jut what’s going on here?

you fix your attention on nahida and hope she’s not a good liar. “don’t you already have a god you follow?”

nahida flinched, looking away. “that… was a mistake. i should have trusted my instincts, and for that i’m sorry. i had no idea that my silence would lead to this…”

either she’s a really convincing actor, or she means it. given the severity of the situation, you don’t want to assume.

“if it helps…” wanderer’s hands tighten on his hat, and he bows his head further. “my anemo protected you. even if i did mean to cause harm, that is more than enough proof of your identity.”

“…so i’m supposed to believe you? just like that?”

nahida shook her head. “i understand your apprehension. it’s hard to trust someone after everyone else has betrayed you, and i don’t expect you to come with me to the sanctuary right away. aaru village is close by, though, and i was hoping you would be willing to go there..?”

some part of you still thinks it’s a trick, that there would be a swarm of matra waiting for you. but honestly… running is tiring, and nahida is kind. you want to believe her, even if it does end up going poorly. what else do you have to lose, really?

you drop your poor excuse for a weapon, briefly checking your hands for splinters before standing up. you kick aside the remains of your dinner and dust yourself off, walking forward. “alright. i’ll go with you.”

nahida beams.

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vvynia · 4 months

Text

smut ramble: ellie reading your body

pairing: e. williams x reader

genre: smut + fluff

word count: 440

warnings: language that explicitly denotes reader as afab, this is literally smut so reader's discretion is advised for that alone and MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mention of past erotic choking but overall very vanilla

author’s note: i was straight up in the middle of reading another fic writer’s smut and got a burst of inspiration, then i wrote this. yay !! also, as a black woman, i usually write for black readers but reader’s race doesn’t make a monumental impact in this little drabble x4, so go crazy !! also, these dividers are by @cafekitsune ! the goat.

just had the most random (not really, i’ve been thinking about this for the last week and a half actually) thought of how tender ellie is with you; how, when she has you naked under the heat of her eyes, spread open for her in the most testimonal manner, she presses her center to your’s with the utmost care; how she slots her body against your’s just right. skin to skin, breaths in sync. that harmony always comes to an end, however, when she begins to circle her hips. her goal is to catch your clit with her’s just how you both like.

you’re sopping wet and, goodness, she can hear so vivdly the way her essence mingles with yours—lovingly, carnally, desperately. the slick of you two is hightened by the silence and stillness of the room. after all, not much moves on the acres of a farm in the middle of jackson county, wyoming just hours before sunrise (except the two women occupying the house, of course).

the aura around you two buzzes, and as she grows more needy for her release, ellie’s grunts and pants waltz with your whines. her gait is getting you a little too worked up for her liking, however. she sees the signs: tremoring thighs, thready inhales, lost hands begging for a place to squeeze and tug for refuge.

these make her slow just enough to turn your cries indignant. you lift your eyelids so you can glare your annoyance into her, but ellie’s already caught you in her gaze.

she husks, “keep ‘em open, baby.” she leans further into you to put a calloused hand on your cheek and a soft kiss upon your lips. “you gotta keep ‘em open if you wanna cum harder, remember?”

you do remember.

you remember the first time ellie made you squirt. it was when she’d wrapped her hand into a near-fist around your throat and forced you to give her your undivided attention as she fucked her strap into you at a pace so brutal, you had bambi legs afterward.

though, like i said, ellie williams is gentle today. she realigns your focus by gradually finding the pace she’d kept before your burst of excitement. she splays her hand across your hip, smooches the plush of your calf, and manages to never lose your eyes the entire time.

a cracked moan and a yelp later, you cum unbidden.

the moral of the story lies here: ellie speaks the language of your body as though she’s been studying linguistics for the entirety of her life. to such extent and farther, that is how much she loves you.

@picklesarenice69 - girl, i know this isn’t what you’ve been asking me to tag you in, but i wrote something and i thought you might appreciate it 😂

#ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie smut #ellie williams smut #ellie x black!reader #ellie x black reader #ellie williams x black!reader #ellie williams x black reader #wlw #lesbian #tlou 2 #𝐯'𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

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rileyslibrary · 1 year

Text

Nice shot

Summary: What happens when, in a moment of absent-mindedness, you accidentally slingshot your hair tie straight in Ghost’s eye as he briefs you and the team on a critical mission?

Relationship: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Word count: 1,149

Notes:

Platonic(ish?) fluff *wink wink*

I admit the following fic could have easily ended up into something spicy, but I wasn’t feeling it when I wrote it so

Want more?

———————————————————————

You’re all seated around a large wooden table in the centre of an otherwise empty room, illuminated only by a flickering projector suspended from the ceiling.

Ghost stands at the head of the table with his back to a projected image of a wanted fugitive. His signature skull balaclava casts an eerie shadow over his face as he speaks, describing the mission’s objectives, the obstacles you’ll face, and the risks involved.

“Our objective is clear,” he says as he walks around the table. “We must take out a high-value target and retrieve vital intelligence.”

“Alpha Team will establish a perimeter around the target’s refuge,” he explains, “while Bravo will execute an aerial rooftop landing.”

But, despite your lieutenant’s confident demeanour, you emit the exact opposite. The upcoming mission is dangerous, and anxiety gets the best of you. Your mind begins to race as you consider the implications and the impact it might have on your job and—worse—on your life.

As the briefing continues, it becomes increasingly difficult for you to sit still. You find yourself absentmindedly twisting a hair tie around your fingers. It was a nervous habit you picked as a child, a coping mechanism for whenever you felt overwhelmed.

You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself, but they are useless. So you continue to tangle that hair tie in your fingers as if trying to imitate the knots you feel in your stomach.

Stretching, twisting, turning it around…

Stretch-

The hair tie suddenly slips from your grasp and flies across the table, slingshotting towards Ghost’s face and striking him square in the eye.

You’ve just hit one of the most notorious and feared lieutenants with a hair tie.

The enigma of Task Force 141. Your superior. In the eye. With a hair tie. During a briefing. For a critical mission.

Gasps fill the room as everyone shifts their attention from the lieutenant to you, then back. Your heart drops to your stomach. What have you done?

You brace yourself for his reaction.

Ghost, however, does not react; he doesn’t even turn to look at you. Instead, he kneels, picks up the hair tie, places it in his pocket, and resumes the briefing. Everyone is silent but as stunned by his reaction as you are.

You sink into your chair and take as little space as possible. As Ghost continues, you try to forget the incident, focusing on the mission’s details. However, concentrating is challenging since you can still feel everyone’s eyes on you. You turn to look at Soap, who mouths an inaudible “you’re fucked” as he looks at you dumbfounded.

The briefing ends, and everyone begins to pack up their stuff. You grab your belongings and dash for the door. Perhaps Ghost forgot about it. Maybe he brushed it aside. You wouldn’t find it surprising if he didn’t even notice who—

“Y/N, report to my office in 10.” He commands as he fills out the attendance form without looking at you.

Well, shit.

As you approach the lieutenant’s office, your heart is racing. Worry and embarrassment are fighting within you to see which emotion can make you feel the worst. You try to make up excuses to explain what happened, but what is there to explain? Scenarios fill your mind—bad ones. You might get heavily penalised. You could even lose your job. Not only that, but the thought of being chewed out by the lieutenant is enough to make you break out in a cold sweat.

The hallway walls seem to close in; the fluorescent lights shine straight into your eyes, making you feel dizzy. Each step feels like you’re getting closer to your execution.

The door to the office stands before you, and you pause, gathering your courage. You take a deep breath, exhale slowly, and knock on the door.

“Enter!” Ghost shouts from the other side of the door.

You push the door open and step into the room. Your heart threatens to escape your chest.

The room is small, and the only furnishings are a worn-off desk with a pair of hard-backed chairs. The lieutenant sits at the desk with his arms crossed over his broad chest; his gaze feels like a spear that pins you in place. He makes you feel like a bug under a microscope. Your legs feel unsteady.

“Take a seat,” he says, motioning with a flick of his wrist to the chair across from him. You settle into the chair as he orders. The leather creaks beneath you, and you nervously twist your fingers in your lap. Thank God you don’t have that hair tie in your hands.

Ghost leans back in his chair, never breaking eye contact. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I called you here,” he murmurs. Even now, he’s been sarcastic.

You lower your gaze, avoiding to meet his eyes; your mouth is too dry to speak. He seems to understand your nervousness but continues anyway.

“Nice shot,” he says with a chuckle. “Not many can catch me off guard like that.” Despite his concealed expression, you can hear the smile in his tone.

You sit there shocked. You expected a stern lecture, but instead, he is having a laugh.

“I-I’m so sorry, sir—it was an accident.”

But Ghost waves his hand and dismisses your apology. “Next time, please use that aim on the battlefield,” he replies. “Just make sure to aim at the enemy; I won’t be accepting any more friendly fire from you.”

You chuckle, the tight knot in your stomach slowly unravelling.

“You’re dismissed,” he says softly, and you thank him for understanding.

As you grasp the door handle, you turn to face him again. “Lieutenant Riley,” you say, “may I please have back my hair tie, sir?”

He shakes his head. “Negative, soldier,” he replies, his focus shifting to his computer screen. “Who knows what else you might attempt with that deadly weapon of yours?”

You shrug it off. Who cares anyway; you have plenty of “deadly weapons” in your vanity kit.

You take one last look at Ghost as you close the door. His eyes smile as they lock with yours, and he gives you a wink. He retrieves your hair tie from his pocket and begins stretching, twisting, and turning it around.

———————————————————————

#simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #cod ghost #simon riley #cod mw2

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hard-core-super-star · 7 months

Text

for your love, i'll do whatever you want... [K.Bishop]

pairing: alpha!kate bishop x omega!reader

summary: omega heats are incredibly unbearable, thankfully kate knows just what to do to make you feel better.

warnings: shameless smut -> minors, you're not allowed [omegaverse au {written by someone who has very minimal understanding of the logistics and makes everything up on the spot}; omega in heat = needy alpha kate; fingering {R receiving}; so much praise; technically pet play but only if you squint {kate does call R puppy more than few times}; finger-sucking {i couldn't resist}]

wordcount: 1.9k

a/n: i have no explanation for this, i just...think she's neat. i read literally one omegaverse au fic and now i have brainrot. clearly, the only solution was to pass it on to all of you. i've never written anything like this before so uh...be warned, i guess. once again, this is about the closest i'll get to doing kinktober but this variant of kate [along with vampire!kate] might be sticking around, we'll see. also, believe it or not i did some world-building but tried not to include too much and just focused on the filth. you're welcome, i guess?

* * * * * * *

The sound of the bedroom door opening makes your tired eyes snap open. You blink the drowsiness away long enough to recognize Kate’s frame as she slips into the room. Her steps are slow, almost bordering on hesitant, but the mere sound of her boots on the floor makes your heart race.

The archer had been gone for what felt like months. In reality, she was only gone for four days. Not even a full week had passed without her and yet you’ve been desperate for her return since the moment she walked out the door.

You assumed it was only due to the strong bond, and slight dependence, that had started to form since the brunette brought you to her apartment a few months ago. She’d rescued you from a cruel living situation and shown you kindness you never even thought was possible.

Especially from such a dominant alpha.

But Kate’s nothing like all the alpha’s you’re used to. She’s all soft chuckles, understanding looks, and feather-light touches. The literal definition of care lies in the depths of her pale blue eyes.

It’s truly no surprise, then, that you fell for her instantly.

And it’s even less of a surprise that being without her triggered an avalanche of feelings that resulted in your heat. A heat you were forced to endure on your own with no gentle touches or whispered praise.

Until now.

“y/n.” She makes an effort to keep her voice quiet despite her obvious concern. “How’re you holding up?”

The answer to that is crystal clear considering you’ve made no attempt at getting up and rushing toward her like you usually do. You want nothing more than that but your entire body aches in ways you’re not used to feeling, at least not on this scale. Your skin burns with pure warmth yet your body shakes as if you’ve spent the past few hours out in the cold.

You’re barely able to lift your head, the faintest of whimpers slipping out. Your lack of a response is all she needs to approach you and the comfortable nest you’ve made in the corner of her bedroom.

Your nose picks up on her scent immediately and the lower part of your body wastes even less time in reacting. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so desperate to feel her touch on every part of your overheated skin.

“Uh oh, I know what that look means,” she jokes as she sits in front of you.

Your grumble of discontent is wiped away the second she reaches for you. She easily picks you up, letting out a slightly playful grunt, before maneuvering you onto her lap.

“Kate,” you mumble.

“I know, sweetheart, I’m right here.”

Her hand gently grasps the back of your head, guiding you forward until you’re able to seek refuge from the overwhelming sensations rushing through your entire being. Her scent drives your body wild but it’s also the only thing capable of calming you down so you bury your face into her neck without hesitation.

“Baby…” Her tone makes you shiver and you subconsciously shift closer to her. “I’d like to hear your voice.”

You know what her request actually is, you’ve heard it countless times since she started the hard work of putting your broken pieces back together. Your hands grasp the front of her shirt and you fidget with the fabric until you find the words you’re searching for.

“I missed you.”

You don’t see the smile that graces her lips but you hear the slow exhale of relief she lets out. The fact that you’re speaking to her is a good sign, one that reassures her enough to finally start touching you.

“I missed you too,” she admits as her hands begin to wander. “I thought about you every day I was gone.”

She keeps one arm wrapped securely around your waist but lets her free hand caress you in all the right ways designed to soothe you while simultaneously driving you insane with need. Just because she’s the kindest alpha you’ve ever met doesn’t mean she’s not a massive tease when she wants to be.

“Katie,” you practically whine.

Your reaction brings a chuckle out of the brunette that only serves to intensify the ache between your legs. You’re both acutely aware of the amount of slick that’s dripping down your thighs by now but while you’re on the edge of desperation, Kate’s having the time of her life.

She always loves knowing how much you need her, how much you crave her, and today is no exception.

“Yes, sweetheart?” The pads of her fingers ghost along your chest, barely grazing against the side of your breasts. “Do you need something, pup?”

Hearing that one word out of her lips shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. Although, that could easily be said about any and every single thing Kate does.

All you can do for a few seconds is whimper and press yourself closer to her, your hips shifting every which way in search of some friction. Friction she easily denies by shifting her lower half away from you which means you’re forced to pull yourself together and ask for what you want.

“Mhm, need you.”

Kate rewards your obedience by finally letting her fingers play with your hardened nipples. Her touch is soft even while she tugs on them just enough to draw out another needy little sound from you. “You have no idea how adorable you sound right now. You’re just a pretty omega in need of her alpha, aren’t you, baby?”

You open your mouth to answer her but instead of words, a sharp moan leaves your lips as her mouth meets your shoulder. She trails a line of kisses along your warm skin, allowing you to bask in the comfort that underlies such an intense moment.

She’s had her fun and now her full attention goes toward making you feel better the only way she can right now.

Her hand starts its descent once she’s satisfied with the amount of skin her kisses have covered. She moves slowly despite the obvious wetness that’s started to drip onto her jeans. She’s not trying to tease you anymore, though. Her touch is reassuring, a silent promise she won’t hurt you like all the ones who came before her.

The noise you let out once her hand cups your aching cunt borders on pathetic but there’s no time to feel embarrassed. There’s no time for anything except grinding down against her fingers while they stroke your swollen clit.

“Good girl,” she murmurs in between soft kisses. You can tell she’s barely holding back the urge to pierce your shoulder with her teeth. “Fuck, you’re so wet, baby. Is this all for me?”

Her question is meant to be rhetorical but you don’t dare risk it, already too far gone to be able to deal with more teasing. “Yes…just for you.”

Kate’s fingers stutter in their movements. She wasn’t expecting a response, much less one that makes her possessive, and borderline primal, instincts flare up. The change in her scent throws you off, especially when the words that escape her are almost as needy as your own.

“You’re so good for me…so fucking pretty like this. God, you’re driving me crazy, puppy.”

The emphasis on the word is enough to make you cry out in pleasure but then she sinks two fingers into your tight pussy and you swear the world stops moving for a few ecstasy-filled seconds.

Kate doesn’t mind that you stop rocking against her, she’s much too eager to show you she’s the only one capable of making you feel this heavenly while doing such sinful things to your body.

She’s also already obsessed with the way you’re clenching around her fingers and it shows in the non-stop groans coming out of her.

Groans that push you closer to the edge.

“You’re taking my fingers so well.” She’s panting into your shoulder but you can’t blame her for it since you’re in a much more desperate state, panting and groaning against her neck. “So tight but so needy for more, isn’t that right, pup?”

“Yes-” Kate slips another finger inside you before you can get too far. “Fuck! Please!”

You don’t know if it’s your words or the sound of the tears that are gathering in the corners of her eyes but she instantly turns back to that gentle alpha you know so well. The one who puts your needs above her own without missing a single beat.

“I know, I know. Just relax, let me take care of you.”

Her fingers thrust inside of you at a rapid pace but she’s careful not to get too rough with you. She shifts a little, kissing her way across the top of your shoulder and to the side of your neck.

You’ve never felt closer to her than you do right now and the feeling is somehow more overwhelming than your pleasure.

Kate’s thumb starts drawing circles on your throbbing clit and you almost fall apart instantly. She knows. Of course she knows because she’s spent hours getting to know every part of what makes you who you are. Including your painful past.

She lets you bask in the feeling of holding back until your cries of pleasure border on discomfort. “It’s okay, puppy,” she mumbles while nuzzling your neck. “You don’t have to wait, you can cum for me. Show me you’re mine.”

There’s no way for you to last any longer once she says that.

Your mouth drops open into a long moan as Kate coaxes your orgasm out of you. You’re sensitive and desperate and yet the thing that causes you to truly give in to your release is the care she puts into everything she’s doing.

She’s giving you everything you want because she knows it’s the only thing that’ll make you feel better. The only thing that'll take away the discomfort of your heat and the anxiety that still thrums through your veins from being with her.

Your entire body shakes and shudders from the strength of your orgasm, Kate’s fingers slowly fucking you through it until you fully collapse against her.

“Good girl.” She plants a kiss on your neck before pulling her fingers out of you.

You whine the second she leaves your cunt empty but you’re too worn out by everything that’s happened to beg for another orgasm. Instead, you accept the fingers she presses against your lips, opening your mouth without a second thought and moaning at the taste of the wetness that covers the digits.

“There you go, just like that, pup.”

You’re far too exhausted to reply so you settle on sucking her fingers while she whispers soft praise into the space between you.

After days of yearning for the alpha’s touch, your body finally feels soothed. Relaxed to the point of comfortable sleepiness, not the awful stress-filled exhaustion you were forced to deal with on your own.

You’re finally safe in the arms of someone who genuinely loves you for who and what you are.

“Does my sweet omega want a nap?”

Her soft tone makes you smile around her fingers. You let out a muffled sound of contentment and Kate merely chuckles in response at how eager your sucking is despite your obvious fatigue.

“Okay, sweetheart. Just close your eyes, I’ll be right here to take care of you when you wake up, alright?”

There’s not a single doubt in your mind that she’ll be true to her word.

So, you close your eyes and take a few deep breaths that fill your entire being with the smell of her. You belong completely to Kate and you wouldn't have it any other way.

425 notes · View notes

marxo-fm · 7 months

Text

Secrecy

✯ Viscount Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!reader

Summary: You’re the princess of the United Kingdom, trapped in the Kew Palace with nothing to do but obey. That seemed to change after your brother makes an appearance at the ball held in honor of his arrival from the British Military, with a surprise guest.

Warnings: MDNI+18, Mentions of adult theme and language, slight smut with plot, inexperienced!reader, virgin!reader, praising, innocent!reader, Ghost gives reader an anatomy lesson and teaches reader certain things, fingering, slight angst, no use of y/n, head canon, no descriptions of race, skin color, hair type/length, or body type. Reader is in her 20’s and Ghost is in his late 20’s. This takes place during the Regency Era.

Words: 9.7K (I can explain)

A/N: Rewatched Queen Charlotte in one day and got inspired to somehow write this. Idk what came up in my head but I’m not mad about it. I love historical romance pieces and Bridgerton is one of my favorite shows, so this was inspired by that as well. Must I add, this will be a series (let’s act shocked!) but it’ll start off slow and then progress into something very steamy. I plan on making this 2-3 parts? Not entirely sure yet. I’m so excited to make a playlist and have this become a part of my page. I promised to write a Ghost fic in celebration of 300 followers!!! Thank you!!! That’s all peeps, enjoy this and thanks for reading once again. :)

To be in love, is to touch with a lighter hand. In yourself you stretch, you are well. —Gwendolyn Brooks, “To be in Love.”

The rain drummed loudly against the windows of Kew Palace, a historic refuge steeped in tales of bygone eras. Yet another dismal night had slipped away in silence, the relentless downpour obscuring any sounds of the world outside. The scent of rain, laced with the earthy aroma of centuries-old stone, permeated your room through the slightly ajar windows. Candlelight flickered, casting dancing shadows that played upon the antique furnishings, each one holding its own secrets from a different age. As you gazed out into the night, the blurred outlines of majestic trees in the palace gardens whispered stories of forgotten romances and royal intrigues, echoing through time.

Yet not one memory of romance had ever occurred to you, sadly.

You sat in silence, enveloped by the heavy presence of the palace's servants, who stood as immobile as statues waiting for a command.

The stillness in the room was deafening, capable of giving even the strongest a throbbing headache, yet this oppressive silence was something you had grown accustomed to. It was an everyday affliction, a reminder of your powerlessness and the stifling constraints of your position.

The relentless cycle of attending balls, tea parties, leisurely walks, and grand masquerades had become a mundane routine. None of these activities could dispel the relentless boredom that had settled over your life. Despite the lavish extravagance and social grandeur, they only served to further emphasize your dull amusement.

Unfortunate yet fortunate at the same time, you learned to be grateful for the position you are in now, but the life you have been given to live wasn’t what you enjoyed. That itself is a secret one must never know of.

Your contemplations were abruptly halted as your mother entered the room, her presence commanding immediate attention. You rose gracefully from your seat, bowing with an elegance through years of refinement. With a quick, composed adjustment of your dress, you presented yourself as the embodiment of poise and decorum. And of course, elegance. It was essential to maintain appearances in the relentless world of aristocratic expectations.

All the servants bowed down before their queen. A display of loyalty and respect—a testament to the power she held.

“Mother.”

“Dearest.” Her voice, filled with warmth and affection, broke through the icy layer of your mood. You responded with a genuine smile, one that masked the melancholy you often kept hidden. It was carefully maintained; your mother could never be burdened with your silent suffering. If she were to glimpse even a fraction of the emotions you endured, she would tirelessly pester and lecture, determined to alleviate your pain.

But this was a battle you chose to wage in solitude, for the sake of preserving the family’s reputation and your own fragile sense of independence.

“We have a ball to attend in the celebration of the upcoming arrival of your brother. It is to be held quite soon, though, we are not sure on the date.” Your ears perked and every melancholic emotions you were enduring suddenly became cheerful. Your brother is finally coming, after being gone for a year. Though it felt like centuries he had been gone.

“That is thrilling news, I pray he arrives safe and well. Have you shared this with our other siblings?” Other siblings meant your six siblings, you’re the youngest of eight children, and it’s rather lonely. It feels like.

“Yes, dearest. I have reminded them that a ball will be held soon. The members of the Ton will be attending and it will be grand.” She replied enthusiastically, “though I have something else to share, beloved.”

Your eyebrows rose, and your curiosity piqued. What more could your mother share with you about the ball? You sought more information.

After a brief pause, she continued, “He is arriving with a guest, a Viscount to be precise. This gentleman is to be accorded the utmost respect, just as I have instilled in all of you. He holds a special place in your brother’s heart, and it is imperative that he is welcomed with the same warmth and hospitality that we extend to family.”

You nod, “of course mother. May I know his name?”

“His name is Simon Riley, he is a fine and distinguished gentleman. He holds the rank of Lieutenant General. Quite remarkable if I do say so myself.” She looked at the servants before setting her eyes on you, “He is also very close to your father.” You gasped, for one to be close to the king—your father of all people, was quite rare. Since he is a busy man with important duties he must fulfill.

“I will treat him with the utmost respect, my dearest mother, rest assured.” Having made your commitment clear, you resumed your thoughts, still buzzing with anticipation for your brother’s return and the upcoming ball.

You returned to the chair you sat in before your mother shared important news, resuming in what you were doing before.

“Read a book, darling. You are amazing at that. Do not bore yourself here.” You nod graciously, you found her encouragement as something you deeply appreciated.

“Thank you mother, I shall read.” You made your way to the nearest shelf, curious as to why you haven’t done this earlier. Maybe your mother was right, do not bore yourself with such thoughts and emotions, instead find joy in reading. It helped you get lost in the pages and words, that you forget whatever was going on in that head of yours.

“Ladies, go help my daughter with the books.” Your mother ordered.

“Certainly, Your Majesty.” They all responded.

“It is quite fine mother, I can do this myself.” You assured, nodding to the servants and their faces expressed a puzzled look. Unsure of whom to listen to. “Yes, love, do as you may.”

The servants walk back to the area they had previously stood in, watching you carefully. “I must leave now, love, It is rather late.”

“Goodnight mother.” You make your way to the shelves once again, the area was dimly lit and the bookshelf stood tall. Its polished mahogany wood gleaming softly in the warm glow of a crackling fireplace.

It was calm.

The scent of aged leather and paper makes its way through the air as your peruse the titles, each elegantly bound with gold lettering.

You spot volumes of Jane Austen’s novels, her delicate pages filled with tales of love and societal intrigue. One most famously known as, “Pride and Prejudice.”

Nearby, a collection of poetry by Lord Byron beckons with its romantic verses. The room is adorned with lush velvet draperies and antique furniture, setting the scene for a world where manners, class, and etiquette reign supreme.

Your delicate fingers skim through every romance book there is.

As you select a book and settle into the armchair, the world outside slowly began to fade away. You immerse yourself in the intricate and vivid description, momentarily escaping the constraints of your era into the enchanting world of literature.

(…)

It is the next morning, as the sun timidly filtered through the drawn blinds in your room, its radiant presence compelling you to squint and shield your eyes.

The birds chirped and the sky is painted with bright whites and bright yellows streamed through the window, a sense of lightness enveloped you. Starting the day with a serene countenance, you blinked away the remnants of sleep from your eyes and smiled drowsily. Your fingertips traced the cotton sheets, as you embraced the morning's gentle charm.

You summon the bell in your bedchamber, signaling to the housemaids that you are indeed awake and require a comforting, warm bath drawn. You stand on your own two feet, welcoming the housemaids inside your bedroom assisting in disrobing your white cotton nightgown.

They draw a bath, filling it with steaming water infused with fragrant oils and rose petals. You step into the tub, sinking into the comforting embrace of the warm, scented embrace, a welcome respite from the chill of the morning.

As you soaked in the fragrant bath, your thoughts drifted to the impending ball. You longed for any additional information your mother might have left off about this highly anticipated event, eager for every intricate detail to fuel your anticipation.

Truth be told, your curiosity about meeting Viscount Simon Riley was quite overwhelming. You harbored an occurring hope that he would prove to be the epitome of a true gentleman. Your mother's praises of him fueled your optimism, suggesting he was a man of impeccable character and esteemed authority, which only heightened your eagerness to make his acquaintance.

Excitement was a vast understatement for the emotions coursing through you.

The revelation that Simon was not only close to your father, the King, but also held a special bond with your brother left you astounded. While many men enjoyed proximity to your father and eldest brother, the depth of connection your mother had described set Simon apart from them all. It led you to believe that he was indeed the definition of a true gentleman.

"Ladies, may I inquire if you have all gathered the latest tidbits of information regarding the upcoming ball?" You found yourself pondering, the fragrant bubbles in the warm bath soothing your senses, as you leaned back against the porcelain tub's elegant curves.

"Not quite, Your Highness," she informed, her voice filled with anticipation. "We've heard rumors that hundreds shall grace the occasion." Excitement surged through your entire being. Finally, the time had arrived to mingle with society, to dance, and to revel. It had been several long months since the last grand ball, and the prospect filled you with eager anticipation.

"Are any of you acquainted with Viscount Simon Riley?" Curiosity overtook you, though you couldn't quite fathom why. After all, you hadn't yet crossed paths with the man, and here you were, posing a question of seemingly little consequence to your maids.

They all gasped and stood quiet, maybe you have said something wrong.

"He is not a man of whom one speaks ill of," she responded cautiously, her voice betraying a hint of unease. "Viscount Simon Riley wields significant power and authority. However, Your Highness, that is all I am permitted to share." Her nervousness was evident, as if she were tiptoeing around a topic that carried great weight.

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. This was information your mother had yet to share with you. The maids' description of Viscount Simon Riley sent a shiver down your spine, an ironic sensation given the warmth of the bathwater enveloping you.

"Do not worry, my mother shall remain unaware of this conversation," you assured with a gentle smile and a nod, watching as the tension melted from their bodies.

The curiosity within you compelled you to seek more information. "Can any of you describe his appearance?" You observed the maids exchanging uncertain glances before turning their attention back to you. As warm water continued to flow over your body, their soothing massages on your arms accompanied the anticipation of their response.

“It is okay to tell me,” you reassured with a playful giggle, “once again, mother will not know of this. It is not like you have committed treason!”

"Indeed, Your Highness," she began to speak in hushed tones, her voice carrying an air of trepidation. "Discussing Viscount Simon is a delicate matter. His influence is undeniably formidable, and we speak with a measure of fear." Her concern seemed to stem from the notion that their conversation might somehow reach the ears of this powerful figure.

A shiver of apprehension coursed through you. The maids' fear had a way of rubbing off on you, leaving you with an uneasy feeling about this Viscount Simon.

All excitement about meeting him quickly faded away into the endless void, everything your mother had described about him paled in comparison to the unsettling image the maids were painting of this man.

"Whispers of his enigmatic persona have swept through the highest echelons of society, Your Highness. They speak of him donning a finely crafted mask, shrouding his countenance in secrecy. Only a privileged handful among the Ton have been granted the privilege of glimpsing his true visage, and even the slightest revelation of his features carries the weightiest charge of all – high treason."

You gasped. Oh dear.

"Why does he shroud himself in such mystery?" The quest for information left you yearning for more knowledge. How is it that his existence remained hidden from your awareness until this moment?

Their fearful glances held your attention as they continued, "Your Highness, we remain ignorant of his motives for wearing that ominous mask. Its design, reminiscent of a skull, has earned him the haunting name of 'Ghost' among the hushed whispers of society."

Goosebumps prickled across your skin, and a shiver of fear coursed through you. The once-anticipated ball had transformed into a nightmarish affair, shrouded in dread and uncertainty.

He scared you, and you haven’t even met the man.

"That's enough, ladies. Please, remove this bath swiftly," you commanded. Your mood had done a complete somersault, and now you were acutely aware of your surroundings. It felt as though an ominous presence was creeping into your room, even though he hasn’t arrived yet.

Or maybe he has, but you’ve yet to know.

No no, don’t worry yourself of such horrid thoughts.

You repeat and repeat over and over. The fear of darkness and the ominous weighed heavily on your heart. It was a secret fear, one you dared not share, for you knew that if anyone discovered it, they would only dismiss your worries with laughter and reassurances.

The maids, their hands deft and efficient, hurried over to where you stood by the bath, wrapping you in plush towels to dry your delicate skin. With precision, they helped you into a graceful blue chemise dress, its fabric cool and comforting against your form, the intricate lacework and delicate embroidery adorning it a testament to their impeccable craftsmanship.

Each lace on the dress was adorned with a multitude of tiny individual diamonds, their facets catching even the faintest glimmers of light. The shade of blue, a soft and ethereal hue, served as the perfect canvas for these sparkling gems, making them gleam like stars in the darkness.

"'Tis a truly exquisite chemise," you whispered in admiration, extending your arms gracefully for the maids to slip on your pristine white gloves.

"Made for Her Highness, indeed, just like a rare diamond," your maids complimented, their words like a soothing balm to your nerves. Their unwavering support for uplifting your spirits never failed to bolster your confidence.

"Thank you, ladies. I must take my leave now, as there are matters to discuss with my mother and duties to attend to," you graciously replied, ready to face the responsibilities that awaited you.

(…)

"Yes, Your Majesty. The ball is scheduled for the end of this week, and all is proceeding as planned. Every detail has been meticulously arranged, and all members of the Ton have received their invitations," spoke your mother’s friend at morning call.

She took a delicate sip of her chamomile tea before speaking once more, her voice calm, "That is indeed wonderful news. I pray that everything proceeds without a hitch, and I have the utmost confidence that mishaps shall remain a distant concern." Her friend nods, before turning to you to ask a question.

You straightened your posture and offered a warm smile, "You are truly lovely, my dear. If I may inquire, are you excited for this upcoming ball?" As the question lingered in the air, a torrent of unsettling thoughts flooded your mind. The words of the maids, the mention of the enigmatic "Ghost," and the eerie mask all coalesced into a haunting collage of images. Your body quivered involuntarily, and a palpable sense of unease washed over you, like an ominous shadow creeping into the room.

You masked your true feelings expertly, putting on a facade of excitement. It was clear that your enthusiasm was reserved solely for your brother, not for the Viscount. You knew all too well that you couldn't reveal your fear, so you concealed it behind a carefully crafted persona, concealing the trepidation that lurked beneath the surface.

“Indeed I am quite cheerful. I already know well enough that this ball will be the best of this year.”

She takes a bite of her honey cake, proceeding to invade you with more questions. Questions you were not comfortable answering.

“Well yes…your mother—Her Majesty—is hosting the ball.”

"Ah, yes, of course," you quickly replied, feeling a bit flustered by the reminder. Her raised eyebrow and condescending gaze made you feel like a naive child, an unsettling sensation you couldn't quite shake off.

“Your Majesty, has she not yet met Viscount Riley?” Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Viscount Riley's name, sending a chill down your spine. The palace suddenly felt much colder, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. It was an uncomfortable and awkward moment for her to bring up such a question in the presence of your mother, Her Majesty.

"I am not privy to such information, my dear. However, I have every confidence that she will excel in his company and extend to him the respect I have diligently imparted. Would you not agree, my dearest?"

You nod graciously, before her friend decided to open her mouth once more with questions that made you shift in your seat. Uncomfortably.

"Forgive my bluntness, Your Majesty, but I have had the privilege of seeing him in person. And, if I may say..." Her voice trailed off, and her response piqued your curiosity, causing your brow to arch. It was evident that she was quite eager to acquire more information about a man you had not yet had the chance to meet.

“He is quite tall,” she began, and your mother adjusted her posture, “he holds such authority and he is not the man to disrespect, he doesn’t speak unless spoken to and most certainly does not show his face to just anyone.”

The maids' prior revelations had served as a disconcerting confirmation. Fear welled up within you, growing like a thunderhead on the horizon, and it cast a foreboding pall over what had once been an eagerly anticipated ball. The event, once a beacon of excitement, had transformed into a looming specter that filled you with apprehension and uncertainty.

“It is quite a mystery, but it is none of our business. Maybe if he is truly as good of a man he is, I will have him marry my daughter.” Your tea to become a chaotic spray, dispersing droplets and saliva particles across the table’s contents. Your cheeks flush crimson as you glance at your mother, her expression clearly reflecting her shock and disapproval.

“Deepest apologies mother, but marriage?” Her lips tightened as you contemplated her words. “If he proves to be a good man, then perhaps. If not, then no. You are two and twenty, it is time you settle down my dearest.”

“I do not know him.”

"Indeed, there is an abundance of time for you to become better acquainted with him," your mother replied with an encouraging smile. Her eyes sparkled with the anticipation of a promising match for her beloved daughter. "I've heard such positive things about Viscount Simon," she continued, her tone brimming with optimism. "He is reputed to be a true gentleman, and I can't help but hold high hopes for your future together, my dearest."

The description of Viscount Simon had already sent shivers of fear down your spine, and the thought of falling in love was an entirely different realm of uncertainty. You wondered if you'd ever experience the kind of love immortalized in poetry and literature, given the enigmatic and potentially imposing nature of this match.

You decided to let the future unfold at its own pace, allowing it to chart its course without rushing or forcing any outcomes.

You held a clear standard for your future husband: he must be a respectful and considerate man, not exhibiting any sexist, disrespectful, misogynistic, or rude behavior. However, if he proved to be the all those things, then marriage would not happen. Your mother, Her Majesty, fully comprehended your stance on the matter.

You valued a man who showed genuine interest in your passions and didn't pass judgment on them. Mutual respect and shared interests were important to you in a potential partner.

While you recognized the significance of politics and manly duties in society, you weren't inclined to marry a man solely focused on these matters. A well-rounded individual who embraced a broader range of interests and pursuits was more appealing to you.

Your mother knew that.

And you prayed the Viscount lived up to to your high standards.

(…)

On the night of the ball, you stood in front of the grand mirror, the flickering candlelight casting a soft, golden glow across your reflection. Your gown, an exquisite creation of silk and lace, clung to your figure in all the right places, its color a subtle shade of pink. The delicate embroidery and beadwork shimmered in the dim light.

Your heart raced, and your gloved hands trembled as you practiced your breathing, trying to calm the storm of nerves within you. The anticipation of meeting Viscount Simon, coupled with the pressure of societal expectations, weighed heavily on your mind. The maids had spared no effort in choosing every accessory, from the intricate hairpin adorning your carefully styled hair to the elegant necklace that graced your neck.

You hoped, with each practiced breath, that tonight would be a turning point, that Viscount Simon would prove to be the gentleman your mother believed him to be, and that the evening would be the start of something meaningful in your life.

——

"Good afternoon, dearest," your father inquired, his arm linked with your mother's. "Where are your siblings?"

You look around, carefully examining the palace in attempt to look for your other siblings, and you’ve caught them. Relief washed over you.

"They are in the library room, Father," you replied. Your gaze wandered over the opulent floral arrangements that adorned the palace. Vibrant blooms graced the staircase and the grand room's tables, filling the air with a fragrant aroma. The Ton had indeed turned out in force for this event, with couples arriving, their arms elegantly linked, creating a sea of fashionable attendees, and not a single person seemed to be without a date.

Although you’re the princess of the United Kingdom, you oddly felt…out of place.

"Mother, you've done a splendid job. This place looks absolutely marvelous," you praised, appreciating the grandeur and elegance that surrounded you. Her smile radiated with warmth, and her pink dress, a few shades darker than yours, effortlessly outshone all the other gowns the ladies wore in the palace, commanding attention with its regal allure.

Diamond encrusted corset with a matching diamond necklace, and many layers underneath the dress made it seem larger.

Of course, it was your mother, the Queen, who had graced the event with her radiant presence. Her regal attire and demeanor left no room for doubt about her esteemed status in the grand ballroom.

“Good evening, Your Majesty.” A man who appeared to be taller than your dad, bowed before him and shook his hand.

“Good evening, John. How is it here compared to the states?” The states? He must be American, you are sure.

“It is rather marvelous here, we don’t host balls as often as you do, but this ball is alluring.” And he is American so it seems, the accent was crisp.

“Thank you, John. I hosted this ball.” He bowed to the queen, your mother, before bowing down to you.

“Well of course, Her Majesty created the most perfect ball.” He complimented. Twirling the ends of his mustache, this was the first time you’ve ever met an American.

Your mother smiled, appreciating his sweet compliment towards her. “I must get back to Kyle, Ghost should be here any minute now Your Majesty.”

The mention of "Ghost" made your nerves prickle with unease, considering the unsettling details your maids had shared during your bath. As John reminded your father that Ghost would be arriving shortly, your stomach tightened with knots of apprehension. The looming presence of this mysterious figure cast a shadow over the otherwise glamorous evening.

“Thank you, John. I am quite cheerful in meeting him. It has been far too long.”

John bowed and left the area.

Your mother's concern deepened as she observed the horrified expression etched across your face. She gently placed a hand on your arm and whispered, "Dear, you look as if you're on the brink of fainting. Please, go to the refreshments and fetch yourself a glass of water. Take a moment to compose yourself." Your motherly care enveloped you, and you nodded, grateful for the suggestion to step away briefly from the anxiety that had gripped you.

The grand ballroom began to feel suffocating, and you yearned for a breath of fresh air, a momentary escape from the overwhelming atmosphere. The need to step outside and simply breathe because it became nearly overwhelming, and you decided it was time for a brief respite.

He will be here soon, and there is no avoiding it. This thought completely gnawed at your insides and there is no place for you to hide.

"Sister, are you feeling well?" your eldest sibling inquired, her cream-colored chemise beautifully complementing her shimmering jewelry. Her concerned gaze met yours, and you could sense that she found something amiss in your expression. The irony was not lost on you, given that you were about to meet a man who also bore the name "Ghost."

"I am feeling rather ill," you responded, fabricating a falsehood to avoid the impending meeting with "Ghost." While part of you wanted to avoid this mysterious figure, there was an even stronger desire to reunite with your dear brother. Your deception was a way to navigate the complex emotions and uncertainty of the evening.

How unfortunate. This man will haunt your dreams.

——

You made your way outside, the chilly breeze sweeping over your face as you finally found a moment to breathe. The cool air provided a welcome respite from the suffocating atmosphere inside, and you closed your eyes, savoring the sensation of liberation that came with each deep breath.

As you’re breathing the cool air, a voice is heard from a distance.

"My dearest sister, always wandering," your brother chuckled warmly as he approached. You turned your head swiftly at the sound of his voice and finally laid eyes on your sibling after many long months. He appeared strikingly different, somehow taller and more muscular, and the transformation left you momentarily speechless with surprise and joy.

"Brother!" You couldn't contain your excitement and ran up to him, welcoming him with open arms. The embrace felt like it lasted an eternity, as you cherished every moment, not knowing how long he would stay. It was a precious reunion, and you wanted to make the most of it.

"How have you been? I suppose everything has been well while I was away?" he inquired, his arms crossed as he surveyed the palace grounds. It was just the two of you outside, and he seemed genuinely interested in catching up on all that had transpired during his absence.

Amid the tranquility of the palace gardens, your brother's question hung in the air, and he observed his surroundings with a mix of nostalgia and curiosity. The evening's hushed elegance enveloped both of you as you began to catch up. He looked different from when you last saw him, and you couldn't help but wonder about the experiences that had shaped him during his time away. It was a moment filled with anticipation, longing, and the joy of reconnecting with your brother.

"It has been quite well! Rather normal," you replied with a smile, acknowledging the routine and calmness that had become the norm in his absence. His head tilted as he teased, "The word you're searching for is 'boring,' isn't it? After all, the fun brother hasn't been around." His hearty chuckle filled the air, bringing a touch of lightheartedness to the conversation.

“That is true. I have missed you a ton.”

“And I have missed you more, my dear sister.”

You couldn't help but glance around, hoping against hope that Viscount Riley had not yet arrived. The idea of facing him at this moment was almost unbearable, and you found yourself anxiously searching the surroundings for any sign of his presence.

How awkward.

"Oh, I thought you arrived with a guest," you blurted out, your hope that he had an emergency and didn't come alone shining through your words. The prospect of meeting "Ghost" or Viscount Riley had filled you with apprehension, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread at the thought of encountering him in person. Your brother's response would determine whether your unease would intensify or be somewhat alleviated.

But it was not.

“He is here, in fact, he is inside speaking to our father. I highly suggest you meet him, he is a fine gentleman, though he might frighten some. I can assure you, he means well.”

Meeting him now seemed almost inevitable, and you had to prepare yourself for this encounter with the enigmatic figure.

It is time you met him, to get it over with once and for all.

(…)

Viscount Riley stood before you, his face obscured by a mask that added an aura of mystique to his presence. As you gazed into his eyes, you sensed a depth of emotions and stories waiting to be unveiled. It was a stark contrast to the fear you had felt just moments ago, and now, you found yourself admiring this enigmatic figure, eager to learn more about the man behind the mask.

"Your Highness," his voice, deep and gravely, greeted you. An unfamiliar warmth spread through your stomach, causing your cheeks to flush crimson. It was a sensation you couldn't quite understand. Why did you suddenly feel so flustered in his presence?

"Good evening, My Lord. I extend my gratitude for making the journey to attend this ball," you replied politely, determined to make a favorable first impression, despite your royal status as a princess.

Your mother's friend had not exaggerated; Viscount Riley was indeed exceptionally tall, almost appearing otherworldly. Inhumane. His muscular physique was apparent even beneath the luxurious waistcoat he wore. The choice of an all-black ensemble, combined with the white skull-like mask, added to the air of mystery and intrigue that surrounded him, making his presence all the more imposing.

As Viscount Riley closed the distance between you, a sense of anticipation hung in the air, and your heart quickened with each step he took. His hand, encased in a fine glove, reached out, and you watched in fascination, your gaze locked on his as your brows raised. The atmosphere crackled with unspoken tension, leaving you both on the precipice of an intriguing encounter.

"Care for a dance?" Viscount Riley extended the invitation, his eyes lingering on you as he assessed your presence. His gaze felt almost intimate, as if he were undressing you with his eyes, although you quickly chastised yourself for such inappropriate thoughts. The offer to dance hung in the air, and you considered your response carefully.

You nod, “yes, My Lord.”

"Call me Simon, Your Highness," he suggested, his eyes captivating you with their natural hues in the dim light. They seemed to glisten like moonlight. You hesitated, feeling a mix of intrigue and reluctance. "I'm not sure I am comfortable calling you that," you admitted honestly, the formality of addressing him by his title still lingering between you.

"I have granted you permission, my love. Call me Simon, in private," he whispered softly into your ear, his words tinged with an intimacy that sent a shiver down your spine. His scent, a heady blend of sandalwood, enveloped your senses, and the warmth of his breath against your skin caused a flush of heat to spread through your body, leaving you feeling quite overwhelmed in his presence.

My love.

"Do you know how to dance?" Viscount Simon inquired, his grip on your hand tightening slightly, eliciting a soft gasp from you. As you turned to examine the ballroom, you noticed your family watching with smiles on their faces. "I do, Simon," you whispered, your voice barely audible in the intimate moment you shared.

"How about the waltz? Are you familiar with that?" Viscount Simon's hand slipped behind your back, drawing you closer to him in an intimate embrace. Your mouth hung open in astonishment at his boldness, aware of the watchful eyes of the Ton in the ballroom. The closeness between you two, especially in such a public setting, was bound to attract attention and speculation.

"That…I do not know how to," you admitted truthfully. The waltz was indeed a dance you had never mastered, primarily because it required a partner to perform it. The admission was honest, though it left you feeling somewhat vulnerable in this moment with Viscount Simon.

As he continued to examine you, Viscount Simon couldn't deny the striking beauty that stood before him. The tension between you grew thicker, almost suffocating, and he felt a subtle but undeniable change within himself. His chest rose with each breath, and with every passing moment, he seemed to grow larger, as if the weight of the atmosphere and unspoken emotions were affecting him physically.

“I will teach you, Your Highness.” He took your right hand into his left, wrapping his other large hand behind your waist. Pulling you inches closer, if that were possible. You were practically glued to his body.

Your left hand found its place on Viscount Simon's shoulder, and as your touch made contact, you couldn't help but notice the spark in his eyes intensify, transforming into a fiery gaze. The sensation coursing between you was entirely new and left you feeling uncertain about how to navigate it. Yet, there was one undeniable truth: it felt like the pages of a romance novel coming to life, and the allure of the moment was impossible to ignore.

The world around you seemed to fade away, as he began to guide you through the graceful motions of the dance.

He leaned down to your ear, “tell me, love, have you ever done this with anyone before?” You shook your head nervously.

Viscount Simon was nothing like the enigmatic and intimidating figure you had imagined before. He had swiftly disproven your earlier apprehensions, showing himself to be a skilled and confident dance partner. However, the lingering mystery of his masked appearance still intrigued you. Why did he choose to conceal his identity in such a way? Was it a habit, a comfort, or perhaps a symbol of something deeper? As he expertly swayed you through the dance, all your earlier fears seemed to melt away, replaced by a growing sense of fascination and curiosity about this complex man.

“What is going on in that head of yours?”

"I am just trying to be focused, My Lord," you replied, a touch of nerves still present in your voice. He cleared his throat before offering words of encouragement, "You are doing great. Don't think too hard about it, or you'll make a mistake." His reassurance helped ease some of the tension, and you tried to follow his lead with more confidence, allowing the rhythm of the dance to guide your steps.

“Everyone in the room are watching us.”

"Imagine it's just us, Your Highness. Nothing to fret," Viscount Simon whispered, his words a soothing balm to your nerves. With that simple suggestion, you closed your eyes for a brief moment, allowing yourself to immerse in the moment, focusing solely on the dance and the connection you shared, the world around you fading into the background.

"Very well done," Viscount Simon praised, a touch of warmth in his voice. His encouragement and guidance continued to make the dance feel like a shared experience, and you found yourself becoming more at ease with each step, as though the world outside this dance floor had ceased to exist.

The instrumental music slowly started to fade away, as you became enchanted under his mysterious gaze.

In the mesmerizing dance with Viscount Simon, you counted each step and movement carefully. One, a step forward, followed by several backward steps. Then, you counted to two as he gracefully led you to the side, and you followed his lead with precision, completely entranced by the rhythm and grace of the waltz.

"May I ask you a few questions?" you inquired, looking up at Viscount Simon. Or should you call him simply Simon? Your curiosity about the man behind the mask had grown steadily throughout the dance, and now seemed like the perfect opportunity to satisfy it.

"Yes, Your Highness," Viscount Simon replied, his tone respectful as you continued to dance in harmony.

"How long have you been in the military? I can only imagine it's been quite some time," you mused, curious about the path that had led him to his current station. Viscount Simon's physical fitness and the air of intrigue that surrounded him certainly hinted at a rich and varied history. Those eyes of his seemed to hold countless untold stories, and you couldn't help but be drawn to the mystery that shrouded his past.

"I am quite intrigued that someone has inquired about this, especially the princess. It's an honor," Viscount Simon began, a hint of appreciation in his voice. He continued, "I've served in the military for a considerable duration." His sigh hinted at a deeper story. "But I must wonder, why do you ask, Your Highness?" There was a curious and genuine note in his inquiry, as if he too was interested in the motives behind your questions.

His question took you off guard, and you momentarily pause for a moment. Heat swept across your face, and your stomach felt like a hundred butterflies were attacking it at once.

You clear your throat, preparing yourself to speak the truth.

"Well, your physique does suggest you've had a long tenure in the British military," you stated, your words coming out more bluntly than you had intended. You looked away, feeling a bit embarrassed by your straightforward observation. It was as if the words had slipped out of their own accord, revealing your unfiltered thoughts about him.

His head tilts as you both continue the dance, the tension became thicker in the moment.

“I’m glad you’ve noticed that, you have quite the eye darling.”

"I suppose it is rather evident," Viscount Simon replied with a good-natured chuckle, acknowledging the obvious. His height and impressive physical presence were indeed difficult to overlook, and it was refreshing to engage in such candid conversation with him.

“I would like to continue this conversation another time, Your Highness.” The music stopped, and suddenly your heart ached.

The fear and apprehension you had felt before meeting Viscount Simon now seemed misplaced and misjudged. Shame washed over you as you realized that your initial impressions had been far from accurate. Emotions you had never experienced before welled up within you, and you found yourself struggling to process this newfound connection and the complex feelings it stirred within you.

"You look quite sick, Your Highness. Should I summon a doctor?" Viscount Simon's concern was evident in his voice, and he signaled his readiness to assist. However, you shook your head, declining the offer. His expression shifted, and the color of his eyes darkened noticeably. The once-bright stars in his gaze seemed to fade, leaving a shadow of concern and curiosity in their wake.

"I must retire to my bedchamber at once. It seems I may have eaten something disagreeable," you explained, offering a plausible reason for your sudden discomfort. As you made your exit, you couldn't help but reflect on the unexpected attachment you had felt during the dance. Was it the chemistry that had taken you by surprise, or the disappointment of the dance ending so soon when you had secretly wanted it to continue? The confusion within you left you with much to ponder as you retreated from the ballroom.

You heard heavy footsteps in the distance, and you face the sound. Heart beating so fast and hard that you’re afraid it’ll break your ribcage.

Your eyes widened as you glanced back, catching the intense gaze of the tall man in the distance—Viscount Simon. The burning sensation in your stomach flared once more, and your heart raced at the unexpected encounter. It seemed that your paths had crossed again, and the intrigue surrounding him deepened further.

“My Lord, you are not permitted in this area,” you stuttered, your voice trembling with a mixture of surprise and unease. Viscount Simon’s inhumanly towering presence had a profound effect on you, causing your knees to grow weak and your heart to race.

The unexpected encounter left you feeling both vulnerable and intrigued, uncertain of what would come next.

Viscount Simon continued to approach you, seemingly unperturbed by your protest. His voice, when he spoke, carried a darker, gravely, and husky timbre, each word rolling off his tongue with a depth that sent shivers down your spine. It was a voice that held a mysterious allure, and as he drew nearer, you found yourself captivated by the man before you.

“You are still not allowed here, My Lord. Unless are married to me or if you have permission to do—“ he interrupted you for a brief moment, your breath hitched. “Do I have your permission?”

His simple question held a weight that left you questioning your own dignity and morals. "I-I suppose you may. I don't believe you'd cause any harm," you replied tentatively, your nerves causing you to fidget with your hands.

Viscount Simon took note of your hesitation and reached out to gently take your hands in his own. His touch was surprisingly rough and calloused, yet it had a calming effect on your frayed nerves. The unexpected gesture further deepened the sense of connection between you two, leaving you both intrigued and comforted by the enigmatic man before you.

The entire experience felt like something out of a romance novel, a dream brought to life. It was something you had never been entirely sure would happen to you, yet now, it had. The enchanting dance, the mysterious encounter with Viscount Simon, and the complex emotions that had unfolded were all like a dream come true, turning the pages of a story you had never expected to live.

“Open the door, the guards are all downstairs, no need to fret.” He demanded, in a gentle manner.

You obediently opened the door, allowing Viscount Simon to enter. As he stepped into your bedroom, a breeze swept in from the open window, which you had forgotten to close before attending the ball. The cool air helped alleviate the heat on your flushed face, and you welcomed the refreshing sensation, finding comfort in the natural element that had invited itself into your bedroom.

"This is my bedroom," you announced, leading Viscount Simon on a brief tour. You observed him as he moved toward your bed and the bookshelf. His large hands gently skimmed over the rows of books, and his eyes, visible through the skull-like mask, carefully scanned the titles.

“I didn’t take you for such a romance reader, Jane Austen, Your Highness?”

You noticed his finger resting on “Pride and Prejudice” and felt compelled to explain. “Yes, most of them are by Jane Austen, but her works are more than just romance,” you informed him, eager to share your love for literature.

“Excuse me, but there’s not a single book here that is not romance.” His interest in your personal space and choice of reading material piqued your curiosity even further. “Are you an expert perhaps?”

"No, I am not," you admitted, your tone laced with a hint of shame. The vulnerability in sharing this aspect of yourself with Viscount Simon revealed a layer of your character that you hadn't expected to expose during this encounter.

"I can teach you some things from these books, unless you already possess the knowledge," Viscount Simon offered. He selected a random chapter from one of the books and began to read aloud, his gaze eventually shifting back to you.

With his arms now crossed, the buttons on his vest seemed on the verge of bursting due to the muscles that strained against it. The prospect of learning from him, coupled with the undeniable physical presence he exuded, left you intrigued and eager to explore this connection further.

"Knowledge of what?" you inquired, your curiosity piqued by his statement. As Viscount Simon approached you, his every step seemed to carry a weight of its own, and you couldn't help but notice the way his breaths grew heavier, causing his chest to rise with each intake of air.

His masked face concealed most of his expressions, but his eyes continued to hold your attention, revealing a shift in his demeanor that intrigued you even more.

"May I, Your Highness?" Viscount Simon asked softly as he gently lifted your chin with his index finger, tilting it upward until your gazes locked completely. The sudden and intimate gesture left you gasping for air, and a rush of emotions from earlier returned with a renewed intensity. In that moment, it felt as if the world outside your shared space had ceased to exist.

You nodded, still unsure of what he was asking for, and confusion clouded your thoughts. Suddenly, Viscount Simon closed the distance between the two of you, narrowing the gap until you were in close proximity, and your breaths seemed to synchronize in that intimate space.

His lips were soft, and everything you read in the books are now suddenly real.

Viscount Simon’s right hand gently cradled the back of your neck, securing you in his embrace as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. His kiss was passionate, intense, and consuming, leaving you both breathless and addicted to the taste and sensation of each other. In this private room that had once held your deepest secrets, it now bore witness to your first kiss, a moment that defied propriety but felt undeniably right in that intoxicating connection between you two.

In the midst of the heated kiss, every thought and worry seemed to vanish from your mind. Viscount Simon's warm tongue ventured into your mouth, igniting a rush of desire that left you breathless. You held onto his vest with a desperate grip, the fabric of his waistcoat beneath your fingertips offering an anchor in the whirlwind of sensations that coursed through you. The world outside ceased to exist as you both lost yourselves in this intimate exchange, a forbidden connection that felt undeniably intense and irresistible.

He must’ve kept all this encased during the dance…

Viscount Simon's strong hand cupped your face, holding you tenderly as the intensity of the kiss grew. His groans of pleasure became more pronounced, and the raw desire in his sounds threatened to melt you into a puddle beneath him. The fire in your belly surged, an insatiable heat that refused to be extinguished. Every vein in your body seemed to pulse with desire as you couldn't help but wonder where he had been all this time, and why it had taken so long for your paths to cross in such an electrifying way.

"You... taste delicious," Viscount Simon murmured as he pulled away from the kiss, a thin string of saliva briefly connecting your reddened and swollen lips before breaking. Both of you were left breathless, taking moments to regain your composure as you watched Simon also catch his breath. His remark left you feeling dizzy and uncertain about what had just transpired, and the lingering question of why it had happened hung in the air between you.

“My Lord, why did you kiss me just now?” You broke the silence, and he looks up at you, still panting.

“I sincerely apologize for my actions, Your Highness, but I couldn’t keep it in anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

Your voice wavered with a mix of desire and frustration as you implored, "Stop asking me such questions before I do something completely and utterly outrageous." The tension between you and Viscount Simon had reached an almost unbearable peak, and your words conveyed both the temptation and the peril of this magnetic connection that had ignited between you.

Your brows furrow, “I don’t understand what I did, My Lord.”

"Simon, Your Highness," he corrected, his tone both firm and possessive as he closed the distance between you once again. The formality mingled with intimacy in his address, emphasizing the complexity of your connection and the roles you both occupied in this uncharted territory of desire and longing.

Suddenly, Viscount Simon began to undress your chemise, leaving you with only your undergarments. Your voice quivered as you confessed, "Simon, I was told this was not allowed unless I am married..." The touch of his hands against your skin felt like lava, igniting a blazing heat that coursed through your body. The boundaries and proprieties that had once defined your world seemed to blur and fade in the face of this overwhelming desire and vulnerability.

“Do you want this?” He asked, a simple question that made you answer it in less than a second. You wanted to shout “yes” but that was deemed highly inappropriate. So you kept quiet and all you did was nod, though, Simon kept asking.

“A nod won’t do, Your Highness. I need to know if you want me to touch you, to kiss every inch of your body, to explore depths no other man has ever explored, and to tell you that you are mine. Do you want that?”

In that suspended moment, you gazed at him in awe, realizing that every description he had given you, every hint of desire and passion he had conveyed, was everything you had been longing for. It was everything you so desperately wanted. The anticipation that had built within you had finally reached its culmination, and now, in this moment, it had all become a breathtaking reality.

"I want you to do all of the above," you confessed in a breathy, fervent tone. In that intimate moment, you could discern the expression in Viscount Simon's eyes behind his mask, and the desire and hunger mirrored in his gaze confirmed the depth of the connection you both shared.

Lust.

Viscount Simon began to unbutton his vest and everything else beneath his waistcoat, gradually revealing his sculpted torso. Each chiseled muscle seemed to tell a story of years of hard work and sacrifice, with every scar etching its own narrative.

Unable to contain your fascination, you traced your fingers delicately across each scar, causing Simon to flinch at your touch. The intimacy of this moment, where you explored the physical evidence of his past, deepened the connection between you even further.

You asked in a voice tinged with sadness, “When and how have you gotten these?” Your fingers continued to trace the scars on his torso, and a part of you wished that he had never had to endure the pain and suffering that each mark represented.

“I would like to talk about these another time, I don’t want to ruin this moment, love.” You understood.

He gets up from off his knees and places both his hands besides you, you sat on the edge of the bed as he leans towards your face. “Would you like me to undress you, Your Highness?”

"You may," you breathed in response, your need for his touch growing more intense with each passing moment. Viscount Simon didn't completely undress you; instead, he lifted your petticoat all the way up to your waist, exposing your white cotton undergarments to him. Overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, you hid your face, unable to meet his gaze as your desire and vulnerability laid bare before him.

"In all my years of living, I've never seen someone so perfect," Viscount Simon whispered, his words of admiration sending shivers down your spine. He lowered his face to your thighs, and you gasped at the sensation of his soft lips and warm breath trailing across your bare skin. He left a trail of peppered kisses as he slowly made his way to your most sacred and intimate spot, igniting a fiery passion between you that seemed to transcend time and place.

Simon hooks his fingers on the band of your undergarment, and slid them off, leaving you completely bare in front of him. His jaw locks, looking at you like you’re the prey and he’s the predator, ready to devour his meal and fulfill his hunger.

"What are you going to do?" you questioned, your voice filled with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty. Despite your previous experiences with literature and romance, this moment was uncharted territory, and you found yourself both intrigued and apprehensive about what might come next.

He completely ignored your question, taking his finger and touching it on your most sensitive spot. You gripped the cotton sheets, it became victim to your tight hold.

“Your Highness, this spot right here, may cause some discomfort.” He warned, his rough finger circling the bud slowly.

You struggled to breathe, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you found it difficult to form the right words. Your senses were overwhelmed, and your mind raced as you desperately tried to find your voice and articulate your thoughts in this intense and intimate moment.

Small whines and moans left your mouth, putting Simon in a haze. “Now right here,” his finger slid down your throbbing folds, “may hurt, darling.”

You balance yourself on both your elbows, seeing the intense sight in front of you. Simon’s head was in between your legs, and his fingers were on your cunt.

His middle finger enters a part of you that made you let out a scream in response, he may have warned you before, but it still hurt. “Did I hurt you, love? If you’d like me to stop, I can.”

"No, please," you assured him, your voice trembling with both desire and reassurance. "I assure you, I am fine." His hands remained firmly pressed against your thighs, and you welcomed him further into this intimate connection, surrendering to the intoxicating sensations that washed over you.

“Tell me when you’d like me to stop, my princess.”

My Princess. That alone let a moan escape your lips.

His finger began to slide in and out, and the sensations that surged through you left you breathless. It was a mix of pleasure and pain, a new and overwhelming experience that had your body tingling with desire and your mind racing with sensations you had never felt before.

"Oh, Simon..." you whimpered, your head thrashing from side to side as he continued to pay no heed to your whimpers and moans. His mouth descended to your most intimate place, and he began to explore you fully, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body as you surrendered to the exquisite sensations that washed over you.

“Stay still.” He ordered, ignoring your protests as his hands make their way to your waist and back to your thighs. Gripping them as if he’s scared you’re going to somehow leave his hold. His tongue laps against your entrance as his finger continued to slide inside and out, then quickly adding a second finger.

“Simon!” you screamed, your voice echoing through the room, unable to contain the overwhelming sensation that surged through you. The knots in your stomach tugged tighter, intensifying the anticipation as you neared the peak of ecstasy, the culmination of desire and longing.

Your legs instinctively wrap around his head, their delicate silk fabric clinging tightly as his warm breath tickles your inner thighs. With each gentle brush of his nose against your bud, a delicious shiver of anticipation courses through your body, intensifying the electric connection between you.

And there, you couldn’t take it anymore. You unraveled underneath him as he continued to devour you, his grip intensified as you thrashed your head around. Every delicate moans escaped your mouth, and you thought you’d never make these noises in your life, yet here you are.

“You are bloody delicious, my love, so sweet.” He kissed your thighs as he hovers over you. His breathe heaving and his chest covered in sweat. You couldn’t deny the attractiveness in front of you, it was almost impossible how someone could look this good in a mask.

"Thank you, Simon," you expressed your gratitude, and in his mysterious eyes, a glint of admiration shimmered like a hidden treasure in the depths of a secret world you had just begun to explore together.

“It is my honor, Your Highness. I am sure the next time we visit, it won’t be the same as this.”

"What do you mean?" you asked, your curiosity piqued, and an unspoken desire that he would stay by your side forever welled up within you. He sighed, his breath carrying the weight of unspoken truths, and his eyes held a depth of emotions that begged to be explored further.

"I mean, Your Highness," he began, his voice holding a note of determination, "that I will never let you go. I intend to reveal the deeper parts of myself to you, and I will slowly begin to show and teach you everything you desire to know." His words carried a promise of a journey into the unknown, an exploration of desires and emotions that lay hidden beneath the surface.

“I realized now more than ever, that I need you.”

——

NOTE: HOLY!!! This took a week (omg) and now it’s finally done. I’m actually so proud of this. Let me know if you’d like to be in the taglist. Once again, thank you all for reading my peeps! :) this was a promise made by me! Also, I may have watched Bridgerton hundreds of times and Queen Charlotte and all of those shows etc etc, but if there’s something historically incorrect, please inform me! I would love to correct it for future readers. Thanks once again!

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hyperactively-me · 4 months

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Hear me out for King! Ghost…the kingdom is under attack and (Y/N) is trying to find Simon through the chaos. She finds him in the castle garden, on the ground with the enemy standing over him with their sword raised. The next thing (Y/N) sees is her driving her sword into the enemy’s back, killing them. When she realizes Simon is okay, it dawns on her that she has killed a person…I’ll leave it up to you finish this prompt.

Btw your king! Ghost fic has had me on a chokehold it is SO good

thank you for the compliment :) i'm not fully satisfied with this, so i hope y'all like it lol

(noncanon)

king!ghost x reader -- like you've seen a ghost warnings: physical violence, descriptions of death, injuries/blood, heavy angst; this is NOT canon

How did it end up like this?

How were Kastron's forces overpowered, leading to the castle getting infiltrated and overran by enemy forces?

The first signs of trouble came when the castle guards, stationed at key points, were ambushed from within. Chaos erupted as the enemy struck swiftly and decisively, disabling communication and creating confusion amongst the guards and knights within the palace. Betrayed from within, the castle fell into disarray, and panic spread like a wildfire.

Simon shoves a sword in your hand and forces you into a closet, your fingers trembling around the hilt as Simon's urgent eyes bore into yours. "Remember what you've learned," he says, motioning to the sword in your hand. "And, for the love of God, do not move from this spot."

He presses a fleeting kiss to your lips, then shoots you a final lingering gaze before he slips his skull balaclava over his face.

As the closet door closes behind you, the muffled sounds of chaos outside become amplified in the suffocating darkness. The minutes crawl by like hours as you strain to hear any sign of Simon's return or the advancing enemy forces. The closet offers a stifling refuge, and each passing second intensifies the pounding of your heart. The distant echoes of the struggle outside seem to become more muffled.

A sudden hush falls over the room, and you feel a shiver crawl down your spine. The eerie silence is shattered by the creaking of the closet door as you cautiously open it, the cool air of the corridor rushing in. You twist your sword in your grip, angling it in a way that would let you strike anyone who came across you. You emerge from the closet into a scene of devastation—broken armor scattered across the stone floor, the faint scent of blood lingering in the air.

With trepidation, you move through the corridors, heart racing in your chest. There was no one to be found, not even a single knight.

As you round a corner, you stumble upon a grisly scene—the lifeless bodies of Kastron's guards and enemy fighters, the remnants of a fierce battle. Bile rises in your throat, panic gripping your chest, and you quicken your pace, desperate to find Simon. You don't dare call out for anyone in fear that the enemy will attack you.

Dizziness washes over you as you run down the corridor, stumbling upon the double doors that lead to the gardens. Outside the doors, you can hear yelling and the clashing of swords.

Simon wouldn't want you out here, you know it, but how could you stand by whilst Kastron is being invaded? The need to protect your home was overwhelming, so you stood as straight as you could before stepping outside. You shake your head, steadying your breathing as you push open the doors. The clash of steel and anguished cries intensify as you step outside, your grip on the sword tightening. The scent of crushed flowers and damp earth fills the air as you push open the doors, incongruous to the bloodshed within the castle walls.

No one seems to notice you, too caught up in their personal battles and one-on-one combat.

Your eyes dart between the people fighting, searching desperately for any sign of Simon.

In the midst of the tumult, you spot him, a lone figure fending off multiple adversaries. His movements are swift and purposeful, each strike of his sword fatal.

Until now, you've never seen Simon engaged in battle. Of course, you had heard tales of his skills and prowess before you even got married, but witnessing him in action sends chills down your spine. The stories did not do justice to the raw power and grace with which he moved through the battlefield.

You don't know whether you want to beg him to stop or stay back and observe. His skull balaclava looks even more menacing and deadly than ever.

Simon's blade is deadly, each swing and parry precise, calculated, and unforgiving. Each strike finds its mark, taking down each assailant efficiently, knocking them down one by one. Once he finishes off the hoard of people, he takes a shuddered breath, standing up tall as he surveys his surroundings.

Unbeknownst to him, one person had snuck up behind him, kicking Simon down with a loud thump.

The world seems to freeze for a moment as Simon crumples to the ground, caught off guard by the unexpected attack.

"No," you whisper to yourself, eyes going wide at the person pushing your husband to the ground.

Your heart skips a beat, and instinct propels you forward. The enemy, emboldened by their surprise attack, raises their sword for a final, fatal strike.

Time slows as you charge towards them, the sword in your hand cutting through the air. The enemy, unaware of your presence until now, turns too late to defend themself from your onslaught. Your strike stabs straight through their back, a fatal blow.

The enemy gasps, dropping their sword before they could drive it into Simon's chest. They crumble to the ground, lifeless.

Your action hits you like a tsunami, and you stumble backwards, breathless. The world blurs around you as guilt and horror consumes your senses. He looks up, his eyes registering surprise and relief as he sees you unharmed.

Simon's voice pierces through the chaos as he rasps your name once, twice. You still don't fully register that he's calling for you, saying your name.

The ground beneath your feet feels unsteady, and you gasp for air, caught in the grip of a suffocating terror. You sink to your knees, the reality of what you did crashing over you. Your sword slips from your fingers, clattering on the ground. Your attention finally snaps back to Simon, who is still on the ground, momentarily incapacitated. He's struggling to rise, but determination glints in his eyes.

"Simon," you manage to croak, the taste of bile in your throat. You crawl towards him, desperate to reach him and make sure he's okay.

"I told you to stay in the closet," he manages to say.

But you can't comprehend his words. Panic tightens its grip around your chest, and your vision blurs with tears.

"I had to protect you," you whisper, the words barely audible over the din of the ongoing conflict. But the justification feels hollow, and a heavy weight settles in the pits of your chest.

You reach Simon, your trembling hands desperately searching for any sign of injury. His skin under his armor is battered and bruised, and thin trail of blood escapes from a tiny cut on his forearm, but other than that he's fine. The sight of the trickle of blood sends a surge of naseua through you, and you clutch his arm, as much for your own support as for his.

"Simon, I- I..." you stammer, unable to form words. Your eyes dart from his forehead to the attacker laying lifeless on the grass next to you two. Simon's gaze follows yours, and there's a silent understanding in his eyes.

"We need to move," Simon urges, his voice penetrating the disorienting fog in your mind. He starts to stand up, yanking your arm along with him.

You still don't move, too caught up in the way blood seeps into the earth.

"We have to go," Simon insists, his grip on your arm firm. The touch feels distant and disconnected. The urgency in his eyes is undeniable, and you force yourself to nod, pushing back the emotions that threaten to engulf you.

Simon's grip tightens as he pulls you up from the ground, dragging you by your arm harshly. You glance once more at the fallen enemy, anxiety gripping at your heart.

Together, you and Simon stagger away from the battleground unnoticed, moving through the castle's corridors. Simon's pace is brisk, purposeful, but the tension in his movements is palpable. He's still on high alert, ready to defend himself and you from any potential threats.

As you reach his study, Simon locks the door behind him and releases his grip on your arm. He moves to the bookshelf against the far wall and shoves it aside, grunting as he moves it. Behind the wall is a stone door, heavily fortified. With another aggressive movement, he's able to shove the door open, throwing his shoulder against it.

The hidden door reveals a dimly lit room. Simon motions for you to follow him, and you do so without a word. The air in the room is cool, carrying the scent of damp stone.

Simon leads the way with a determined stride, his jaw set. He pulls his balaclava off, revealing the frustration and concern on his face.

Simon finally turns to you, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he speaks.

"What were you thinking?" Simon's voice is low, his words weighted with disappointment. "I told you to stay in the closet, to keep yourself hidden."

Your eyes dart down, guilt and fear rendering you speechless. The images of the lifeless enemy you just struck down replays in your mind, each moment tormenting your senses. You feel trapped, and panic continues to tighten its grip on your chest.

"I... I couldn't just stay there. I had to do something," you stammer, your voice barely audible, tears now freely flowing down your cheeks.

Simon's gaze doesn't waver, his expression stern. Still, he reaches out to cup your face, swiping away some of your tears with his thumb. "You were meant to stay hidden, not to charge into the middle of the fuckin' battlefield. You put yourself at risk, and you put me at risk. I can't protect you if you don't follow orders."

Numbly, you manage to nod, your eyes finally meeting Simon's.

Guilt gnaws at you, a heavy lump in your throat. The reality of your impulsive actions sinks in, and the consequences unfold in Simon's disapproving eyes. You tremble, unable to shake the vivid images from your mind; the smell of the blood, the way it felt when your sword pierced through the person.

You start to breathe rapidly, the small room closing in on you. Everything feels too big, too much—

Simon's stern expression softens, replaced by genuine concern as he sees the panic taking hold of you. He leads you to a dingy chair in the corner of the room and he crouches in front of you, his hands gently holding yours.

"Easy now, love," Simon murmurs, his voice calm as he breaks through the fog of your panic. "Focus on your breathing. In and out. Slowly."

The panic continues to claw at your throat, choking on your tears and inability to get enough air to your lungs. You follow his lead, trying to match your breaths with his. The rhythmic inhales and exhales provide an anchor, helping to alleviate the panic that threatens to consume you. Slowly, you try to regain control over your breathing, clinging to the physical sensation.

"Thas' it," Simon encourages, his voice low. "In and out. We're safe."

Gradually, the tightness in your chest begins to ease, and the room seems a little less suffocating.

"I know it's a lot to comprehend right now—"

"I killed someone," you whisper, voice shaky and raw, tears welling up in your eyes once more. Simon doesn't move an inch.

His gaze doesn't waver, and he maintains a steady grip on your hands. "I know," he says softly, his voice a comforting anchor in the chaos. "It was self-defense, dove."

"I was trying to protect you," you mutter, your eyes dropping to the ground.

A sigh escapes Simon, and he runs a hand through his disheveled hair. "You had to protect yourself and, by extension, me. It's a brutal reality, but it's the world we find ourselves in right now."

You look up at him, searching for any sign of anger or blame in his eyes, but all you find is understanding. He pulls you into a reassuring embrace, his arms enveloping you as if to shield you from the harshness of the outside world.

"You did what you had to do to protect me," Simon murmurs against your hair. "But, charging into battle like that... it was reckless. I can't lose you."

You swallow thickly, squeezing his hand. Simon's thumb brushes against your knuckles, a gesture of both comfort and concern.

"I trust you, I do. But I need you to trust me," Simon continues.

He pulls away slightly, holding your face gently between his hands. His eyes search yours for assurance, a plea for understanding. "We're in this together, and I need you safe. Promise me, even if things get hard, you'll follow the plan and trust that I'll come for you."

You nod, your voice barely a whisper, "I promise."

- - - - -

(masterlist)

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme

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sgt-seabass · 6 months

Text

ʙᴜʀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪᴛᴄʜ

✧˚ · . your fairy tale life ends in a slew of blood.

pairing — witch!bucky barnes x fairy!f!reader w/c — 5.3k listening to — ♫burn the witch warnings — no use of y/n, dark elements, body horror, blood and gore, non-con, kidnapping, bondage, chasing, mild violence, use of magic for evil deeds, drugging, dead dove (don’t eat it and complain to me about it) a/n — happy halloween! thank you to @goldylions for beta-ing. all mistakes are my own. shout out to @navybrat817, @rookthorne and @vonalyn for cheering me along with this fic.

Many fairy tales had been read to you as a child, back when you were small and your wings tiny. The forest was a place for fairy kind, as were all biomes. A holy sanctuary for those with magic, where the trees hugged and created a shelter of heaven-spun leaves and branches. An unspoken promise of protection.

It was not a place to be afraid. Not even in the nighttime. For the moon, bathed in the sun's light, provided a wave of peace to the world around it. The deepened hues of a dark forest lit by starlight were a place of magical refuge.

While many normal humans would be afraid, fairy-kind was taught that forests were a place of ancient souls, like the deep sea or the clouds above. And being half-fairy, this was a teaching you received at an early age.

But the forest you woke in was unlike any story you’d heard before. This was uncharted territory.

“Tinker Bell.”

The misty voice startled you awake. Your eyes opened, immediately taking in the deep red sky. There was a blood moon above, unlike any lunar eclipse you’d seen. The red glowed across the sky and your skin, as if you were alight with the malice that lay hidden.

As you sat up, you took in your surroundings. The dark oak and spruce surrounding you stood as noble knights, protecting something from view with its thick foliage. What wanted to remain hidden?

The dirt floor was sodden with woven roots and fallen leaves, dead and decaying. The only sweetness in the air was the subtle whiff of sap, but it was entirely eclipsed by the earthy smell of rotting wood among damp, stale bark.

This was no fairy tale but a place of nightmares.

No animals scurried at the sound of you rising, no birds sang, the area seemingly barren of any life. You didn’t know how you got here but knew you needed to get out. A place like this was not something Mother Nature would have conjured.

Your heart craved the softened, freshly aromatic scent of the forest near your family home. Where the leaves were crisp, and the sun gently kissed the treetops, creating a beautiful shine. You could almost taste the lovely sweetness of the fresh berries you’d find foraging. It was the opposite of how your stomach roiled at the smell of a dying forest.

The red light made it hard to see, darkness covering every inch of land. Looking down at the muddy turf, you wondered if it was blood you stood upon. But a quick swipe through the grime confirmed it was earth. There was an oddness to the scent of the soil. You rolled it between your fingers, pursing your lips. While it was dirt, this was not dirt you would find in the human world. It did not hold the magical properties it usually would.

This meant either you’d been transported to another realm or were stuck in a plane between the layers of earth and heaven.

Your hands patted over the clothes you’d been put in. A green sundress with a red robe tied neatly with a bow around your neck. These weren’t items from your closet. They felt fresh. New.

A sense of danger prickled across your skin, goosebumps rising on your flesh and hairs standing on end. You were not alone here.

The sound of old leaves crunching sounded behind you, and it didn’t take much initiative to begin running in the other direction.

Your heart began to race as a chase started with the unknown entity. You could hear it behind you, deep breathing and grunting. It was an obstacle course trying to avoid logs and roots, while trying to stop yourself from retching due to the pungent smell of burning, decaying flesh.

Sprinting away from danger raised a primal fear in you. The kind that rips your body apart so that every ounce of concentration, energy and intelligence can be used to escape the nightmares that trailed behind.

A blend of growls mixed in as a pack of rabid wolves jumped out from the side, lunging for you. You yelped, narrowly ducking and weaving away from the gnashing jaws of the animals. They joined the chase behind you, barking when you managed to jump a log that tripped a few of them. The wolves didn’t stop, though. They joined the ominous deep breathing that pursued you, as if you were Red Riding Hood fleeing from danger.

Needing to go faster, despite the close confines around you, you extended your wings from your back and threw away the cloak. Normally, your wings would open to the light of the sun, the streaks of light reflecting beautiful rainbow hues. But now, they added to the glowing red surrounding you, as if they were broken and bloodied. A sense of foreboding overtook you at the thought.

You began fluttering to move faster, your feet only lightly touching the ground. Being half fairy, you couldn’t reach the heights of a typical fairy, restricted by your human-sized body, but that didn’t matter with the many branches that loomed and imprisoned you close to the forest floor.

Crows cawed, their wings flapping as they followed you with red eyes. You could tell they and the wolves were not real, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t hurt you. The birds dove for your wings, and you had to change paths to try and avoid them.

Snakes slithered along the ground, and spiders bared their fangs on the branches above your head. It was claustrophobic, as if this evil presence was closing in on you, causing you a fear worse than your most violent nightmares.

With heaving breaths, running on pure adrenaline, you pushed yourself further than ever before.

You started to lose the animals and the mysterious creature, and it gave you a chance to begin your song.

Fairies cast their magic through their voices, affecting all who listened. Humans often did not understand the words but did not need to. The melody alone was enough to bring love and laughter to life. For that was the gift fairies brought. Through the pureness of their hearts, magic could be accessed and shared with the world.

While fairies appeared like blossoming flowers, there were dark vines that snaked from the ground. Those who used their magic for wicked intentions were considered dark witches. Banned from the sanctorum where Mother Nature sits, witches could never gain Mother Nature's trust, hence never earning their wings.

The song you cast into the acrid air was one of hope. A beautiful tune that caused fairy dust to fall from your wings as you fluttered faster, your strength increasing. But what you did not see behind you was the way the ground swallowed the dust, absorbing it to fuel a power that lay below.

“Tinker Bell.” A voice called to you. The name is reminiscent of the childhood teasing you’d endured during your youth. But the voice now held no innocent oblivion to the way it made fun of you. “Pretty fairy, you cannot outrun me.”

With no destination in mind and no path to guide your way, you continued through the forest with threatening sounds behind you. And before long, the trees opened up into a small clearing. There was no reprieve, though, as the trees that formed the circled area were so thick there would be no way you could continue into the forest without having to squeeze past.

Skeletons and discarded bones covered the ground, and each time your foot touched one, they crumbled with a sickening crunch. Humans, animals, and all kinds of beings lay dead in the field, no flesh left to discern them. Their graveyard would soon become yours too, you feared.

“Tinker Bell,” the voice sounded, and it was much closer now. You spun around with fluttering wings, doing a full turn with magic dust falling to the ground, but you couldn’t see anyone. The ground rumbled beneath you, and you gasped at the sight of vines shooting up to try and grab you.

With darting movements, you maneuvered around the vines that tried to capture you. But the more you began to panic, the more magic that came from you, and the world around you absorbed it. The vines started growing in power, getting thicker and faster the more you tried to fly away.

The blood moon was in full force now. The entire sky was a pool of scarlet, ruddy and nauseating. This realm was feeding off your fear, taking it and using it for its own power.

It was then the being showed itself, walking from the thick foliage into view. The sight of him shocked you so severely that you became distracted, and the vines took their chance to snake around your ankles and up your legs, stopping at your upper thighs. Another two vines grabbed each arm, holding you helplessly in place.

Before you stood an Oni. Or at least someone appearing to be one. A Japanese legend, Oni, were created through the death of a wicked human. Weidling iron clubs as their weapon, they would find enjoyment in crushing and destroying humans. They were bearers of punishment. While this man had no weapon, you feared for what he had planned for you.

But what did you do apart from giving the world your pure heart? What made you deserving of an Oni’s wrath?

Your wings kept fluttering as you took in the man's mask. Covering his face was intricate carvings on a deep charcoal wood. Horns extended on either side, with swirls that covered them down to the blackened eye holes. You could see his piercing blue eyes, stark in comparison to the darkness that surrounded them. The carved swirls continued down the mask's jaw, where it had cut sharp teeth with two fangs on both sides. The man was bulky, not the size of the Oni you had heard of, but he certainly eclipsed the size of an average human. He had to be almost seven feet at least.

He wore only black, with loose pleated pants on his legs and a robe covering his top beneath. One of his hands shone in the red light, and it took you a moment to realise that’s because it was an intricate metal, not flesh.

The sight caused an unrelenting fear in you, as if he had your heart in his hand, beginning to squeeze your very life with his threatening grip.

“Hello, Tinker Bell,” the man spoke, the deep timbre of his tone shaking you to your core as you struggled against your binds. “Are you lost, little fae? These woods are no place for a fairy like you,” he teased, and you could hear the smile in his voice despite the way his face remained hidden.

“Then let me go,” you snapped, trying to use wisps of magic to get the vines to recede, but all it did was make them stronger.

“Ah, hm, no.” The man approached in long strides with flouncing hair as the vines forced you to your knees, your body sinking slightly into the plush earth. “That would be an awful waste of all my effort, Tinker Bell.”

“That’s not my name,” you snapped, beginning to tire of his antics. You just wanted to go home.

“Don’t bore me with your birth name. Tinker Bell suits you much more.” His stature towered above you as he looked down at you, his hair falling around the sides of the mask. The mask was even more intimidating up close. Power radiated off his being, darkness oozing like a sick sludge from him. This was a man to be scared of.

You began to tremble, causing the vines to rustle as you tried to still yourself. In the eyes of a predator, it is best to try and make yourself seem intimidating. But there’s not much you can do as tears well in your eyes. Your mother had always teased you for having such a sensitive soul.

“Aww, are you going to cry? I haven’t even done anything yet.”

You sniffled, spikes of fear lighting your blood like an electric bolt. “What do you want?”

“Those wings, pretty girl.”

Your eyes widened, and your blood ran cold. You held your breath with a sharp inhale, anxiety clutching at your heart. When you’d first presented with your wings, you’d been warned that they were a rare commodity, much like an elephant's tusks. There were puissant people who wanted to increase their power, and a set of fairy wings granted immense magical properties.

“I don’t want to die,” your voice turned into a high whine as reality set in. This red forest would be your final resting place.

The man laughed heartily, causing you to flinch like he had slapped you.

“Oh, you’re not going to die. Don’t you know? Fairy wings grow back. Why on earth would I kill you when I can have a fae of my own?”

If anything, that was a fate worse than death.

“What’s your name?” You gulped, holding back the sobs that wanted to escape.

“You can call me Bucky.”

You were not above grovelling, and you were already on your knees, so you begged. “Bucky - please. Just let me go home. I’m begging you. I have a family, friends, people who will miss me. Just let me go, and I won’t tell anyone about you.”

His eyes darkened as if they were adapting to the shade of the mask surrounding them. There was a deathly silence as he considered you. “No.”

He seemed angry at the mere thought of you being missed. You wondered if it was jealousy. Does he have anyone caring for him? Unlikely based on his method of trying to gain more power. This does not seem like a personable man.

So, you tried a different angle.

“Bucky, you’re a witch, right? That’s how we’re in this realm. You made it?” His eyes narrowed as you spoke, but he didn't stop you. “We’re the same. Magical beings. We should be working together, not against each other. M-Maybe I can help you with some magic? In exchange for my release?”

“The moment I let the vines go, let you leave this place, you will leave me and never look back. Don’t lie to me, Tinker Bell. I can see through your bullshit,” Bucky spat venomously, moving away from you towards a large log that sat in the clearing.

And he wasn’t wrong. It was your intention to run and conjure a teleportation spell the moment you got out of this nightmare realm.

The vines picked you up despite your screams for freedom, carrying you towards the log. “Please, don’t do this! We’re cut of the same cloth. We should be working together! You can stop now. It’s not too late. Please, let me go!”

Bucky watched as you were placed over the log so your front rested against the bark. Your body curved over the trunk, breasts squishing uncomfortably against the hard surface as the vines pulled your arms and legs towards the ground.

A heat rose in your cheeks. You were stuck with your ass elevated, your dress ridden up, so your panties were on display to Bucky. The more you struggled against the binds, the stronger they held.

The blood rushed to your head when you let your neck relax, chin bumping against the log. Reality was setting in, your hope beginning to whittle away. “Please, don’t.”

“Plead all you want, Tinker Bell. No one can hear you here,” Bucky’s voice sounded behind you, his hands groping at the flesh of your thighs. “In fact, I’ll enjoy it more hearing your sounds.”

Bucky let his hands run over your skin, causing goosebumps to rise everywhere he touched. You could sense the power emanating from him, a dark magic present in his entire being.

The vines held firm, so tightly wrapped around your limbs that it felt as if they were seconds away from snapping your bones in their grip. You whimpered, skin cutting against the bark as you writhed.

You couldn’t help the arousal that began to pool in your core with the way Bucky groped you. His devilish hands warmed you like he lit a fire in your entire being. He was undoubtedly a powerful creature.

“You’ll want to be numbed for when I cut your wings off…” Bucky trailed off, and when you looked back you gasped.

He’d taken his cock out. Hard, veiny, and inviting – the thick flesh had an angry red tip, shining precum at the tip. You wondered if he tasted as powerful as his magic.

Bucky took a string of fabric to tie back his hair so it was in a tight bun. You watched, mesmerised by how he moved so fluidly.

He kept his eyes on you the whole time, his dark stare not leaving you as his cock bobbed between his legs when you let out a sniffle.

The mask stayed on after Bucky had finished with his hair, and you couldn’t help but be curious about your captor. Would he look like the demon he projected?

Bucky lifted the bottom of the disguise to spit into his hand, running his palm over the ridges of his cock with a grunt as his metal hand yanked your panties down.

Reality came crashing down, and you cried out. “Wait! Don’t! Please, don’t.”

“You don’t want to be in pain, do you? I could cut your wings with no analgesic, but I’m doing you a favour by giving you my cum,” Bucky’s hands gripped either side of the trunk, allowing his cock to sit nestled in your exposed ass cheeks. “I’m being nice. I’m not even going to fuck you.”

You shook your head, a sob escaping you. “This isn’t being nice.”

“Oh? Not even when I do this?” Bucky snapped his fingers with an incantation, and a small vial of pink liquid appeared in his hand. He took the ampoule, moving his cock out of the way so he could pour it over your ass, letting the pink sparkling fluid seep down into your folds.

Your entire body went taut, sudden bolts of pleasure shooting through your body like firecrackers. Your toes curled, and you wailed out a moan, wings fluttering crazily as you tried to process what was happening.

The arousal coursing through you was like nothing you’d ever felt before, Bucky’s magic infecting you and making your brain spiral like you’d had multiple orgasms at once.

Rainbows of colour swirled in your vision as Bucky began sliding his cock against your ass. You could barely register the rocking movement as euphoria filled your brain, the lust making your hair stand on end.

“See? It’s not so bad, Tinker Bell,” Bucky groaned, humping against you and pushing you harder against the log. “I bet no one has touched you like this before.”

Bucky kicked your legs out so you were spread wider, allowing him to slide his cock along your pussy, collecting your arousal. He rubbed the tip of his cock on your clit, and you moaned obscenely. “St— op”

“Ah, you don’t really want me to, do you? Look how wet you are for me. I bet I could make you cum just with my cock.” Bucky wasn’t wrong. He rolled your clit with the head of his dick, and whatever magic he’d used on you had it feeling like tongues were lapping at you.

“That’s it, come on, cum for me. Soak me. Lose that innocence for me, my little slut,” Bucky leant forward, hands pressing down on your wings, teeth nipping at your ear.

That was all it took for the dams to burst. The world was vibrant as you came, red filling your vision, your body shaking with mewls as your juices gushed against Bucky’s cock.

Your wetness allowed Bucky to easily slide against your flesh, heat radiating from his pulsing cock as he grunted with each thrust. “Fuck. You’re perfect.”

Time seemed to warble, your brain unable to keep up as Bucky grabbed your ass, pressing your cheeks together so he could fuck them harder. “Shit, fuck, oh— oh, I’m close.”

Bucky suddenly pulled back, and you hoped the ordeal was over. How wrong you were.

“They’re soft as silk, Tinks,” Bucky commented, running his fingers over the reflective surface of your wings. You tried to flap them to get his hand to move away, but he was fast, grabbing onto the delicate membrane of your wing.

“Don’t touch them. That hurts,” you whimpered in your haze, writhing against the vines.

“Oh, I’m going to do far more than just touch them.”

You felt as Bucky played with the pliability of your wings, the body part easily manipulated as it was soft and light, the only dense part of your wings being the cartilage that secured them to your back.

Pure horror filled you as he placed his palm onto your wing, forcing it against the log, using his other hand to curve the opalescent surface of your appendage around his cock.

“Fuck. So fucking soft. I knew it would feel amazing,” Bucky moaned, using your wing like a sheath for his cock.

You could feel the heat from his dick against you, your wings sensitive and full of nerves like the rest of you.

“Stop…” You cried, tears still falling, and you were surprised you had any left to cry.

To be defiled like this was something unimaginable. The happiness that you so often felt in your soul was becoming a chimera – no more than a hopeful illusion.

With Bucky’s grunts sounding behind you, you craned your neck to look at the sky, the red reflection making it look as if you were shedding tears of blood.

The blood moon shone proudly, the sky clear of clouds, leaving just redness to cover everything. What did you do to deserve this? Was it simply your fate to be a sacrifice to the wretched? Was there such a thing as fate at all? For so long, you’d considered your life set up upon a lineage Mother Nature set out for you. But no loving figure would force this reality upon one of her creatures, right? Your whole belief system felt shaken, like your entire world compass was stomped on and shattered.

What had you done wrong?

In reality, you’d done nothing to merit such treatment.

Yet the world bestowed the pain on you regardless.

“Enough, stop. It hurts,” you whimpered, the bend on your wing uncomfortable as Bucky thrust into it.

“Oh, it feels too good to stop, pretty girl. It’s like fucking straight magic.” Bucky’s hands braced against the log, using wisps of dark power to keep your wing in a circle.

The power from him escalated, dark clouds pouring from him and billowing across the ground, covering the graveyard of souls surrounding you. His breathy moans got louder, his grip on the log causing cracks to form in the wood.

“F-Fuck, feels too good. I’m going to cum. Yeah, you want my cum, don’t you? Dirty slut.” His hips lost their rhythm, beginning to stutter as he came. Bucky was quick to pull back, his cum coating your back where your wings connected with your flesh.

It was an odd feeling that washed over you. It was something akin to calmness, although it was forced upon you. The last movement you could manage was to look back, brows knitting together when you saw that Bucky’s seed was coloured black, before your body went involuntarily lax.

You lay over the log, your breathing levelling out as you became numb to the world. His spell didn’t just anaesthetise your body, but your emotions too.

You couldn’t even wish to be asleep as you started at the foggy ground.

The vines eased up, not needing to hold you so tight when there was no struggle, their tension leaving marks on your limbs.

“You’re so perfect.” Bucky complimented, but there was no smile on your face.

There was nothing.

You were nothing.

This was the end of everything, and the start of the aphotic zone.

The remnants of your tears fell onto the bones below, cleaning away some of the dirt covering them. But the damage to them remained. Just as the damage to you began.

You couldn’t see what Bucky was doing, nor could you feel it, but you could hear it. There was a sick squelching noise, followed by a sawing sound, as Bucky began to hack at the cartilage connecting your wings.

It was like nails on a chalkboard, nausea roiling in your stomach as you had no choice but to lay there like a rat in a laboratory, ready to be dissected in some horrid experiment.

He could have magically removed them. He’d more than exemplified he had the power to. But he’d chosen the barbaric route for his own crooked pleasure.

Bucky was silent, concentrating on his work as your body wobbled with each run of the jagged blade against you. Blood coated your skin, the ichor running down your sides and covering the wood below you. It gushed out, and if you didn’t feel light-headed before, you certainly did now.

The only words you heard enter the world were a whispered fire incantation. It was then you smelt your flesh burning, the blade heated to cauterise your wound as it sliced.

If you had any control, you’d be wailing, screaming, doing anything to try and get out. Bucky stole your anguish from you, leaving you like a doll atop the log as your identity was violently stripped from your back.

Mother Nature had gifted you your wings. They were your responsibility. And you failed to protect them.

Yet, in your neutered state, you were apathetic about it.

The impromptu surgery went on for what felt like hours, the slow removal of your body parts done both with intricacy and unrelenting brutality.

Your back felt significantly lighter as your wings fell to the ground, crunching the skeletons below into dust.

It was done.

You would never be the same.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I left some scarring. I want my fairy to be special and bear markings made by her owner,” Bucky said proudly, as if you could respond.

You just stared at the skull below you. God, how you wished to be dead on the ground.

Bucky came around the log and stood in front of you, cupping your face with his palms so you were forced to look at his masked face. “Ready to go home?”

Drool dropped out of your mouth and down your chin, unable to control your functions. Bucky swiped away the moisture. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Bucky snapped his fingers, and you were instantly transported to his home.

It seemed like a small cabin in the middle of a forest, based on what you could see from the dirty window. Every surface was covered with tomes, vials, herbs, and materials needed for spells.

The place had an earthy smell with a mix of floral sweetness.

You sat in the corner of the room, and it took you a moment to realise you sat in a large birdcage. With your body still paralysed, you could only elicit a small whimper at the realisation that you were trapped. A purple field covered the cage, assumedly stopping you from using magic.

Bucky startled you, suddenly materialising with your wings in his arms. Seeing them made your heart drop to the earth's centre. They’d lost their colour, aura, and everything that made them special. Now, they were no more than an ingredient.

You watched as Bucky placed them onto his desk, dusting himself off before turning his attention back to you. “Sorry about the mess. I should have cleaned up before you came over. But I’m sure you won’t mind.”

There was a sense of anticipation as he removed his Oni mask, showing you for the first time his face. You were surprised at how handsome and regular he looked. Sometimes, the evillest were the people we’d never suspect if we passed them on the street. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?” He waved the mask before placing it next to your wings. “Since I act like a demon, I might as well look like one, right?”

With a grin, he moved to the bubbling cauldron that was hanging atop a fireplace, scooping up some of the mystery green liquid into a small wooden bowl.

There was intention in every movement as he collected the foul-smelling soup. As he came to your cage, every part of you wanted to scream and run. Yet you didn’t move an inch, sitting upon the cot with your back to the cage wall.

“Here. This will help you heal faster,” Bucky said, as if you had a choice in what you consumed. You felt ill as he got closer with the sloshing broth, your stomach flipping as he raised it to your lips. He had to physically pry your mouth open to pour the soup in, the heat sliding down your slack throat with ease. “That’s my girl, Tinks. Such a good fairy.”

His praises fell on deaf ears as your senses were overtaken by the putrid taste and smell of whatever concoction he had fed you. Almost instantly, you got movement and feeling back.

For the first time in your life, anger overtook you. You’d never felt rage before, but it was all that occupied you now.

With your wings gone, a whole part of you had been taken away. Without your gift of purity, you didn’t have the same emotional control. You felt human.

You jumped up, whacking the bowl from his grip and wrapping your hands around Bucky’s neck, ready to squeeze the life out of him. “I’m going to kill you,” you snarled, entirely unlike your usual self.

Bucky had stolen your innocence and replaced it with darkness.

“Is that so?” Bucky tilted his head, unphased as you squeezed. “Interesting.”

Your anger turned to desperation as Bucky’s form turned to sand in your grip, the course grit slipping through your fingers.

“No!” You screeched, running for the open cage door.

But Bucky was faster, reappearing on the other side of the cage and quickly slamming the wire door in your face.

“No! Let me out! You fucking wench! Hag! Get back here, you old bag and fucking let me go!” You gripped the bars, shaking them desperately as you tried to conjure as much magic as possible. But you had nothing, Bucky’s forcefield holding strong. “I can see why Mother Nature rejected you, warlock. You’re nothing more than an imp, picking on others so you can feel better about your own weakness. You fucking prick.”

There was no chastity left. Your virtue had been lost when your wings were stripped from your being.

“Now, now, that’s not nice. You hurt my feelings.” Bucky frowned, moving back from your enclosure. “Those wings of yours will grow back, and so will your temperament. I’m a very patient man, and I have no issue making your whole existence suffering. But if you know what’s good for you, you will apologise when I return. Wings or not, I expect you to keep the nature of a fairy, Tinks.”

With a flash, Bucky disappeared, leaving you alone in the dank room.

You collapsed to your knees, resolving into a fit of sobs. Without your object of anger there, you were reduced to nothing but sorrow.

Letting out a shuddered breath, you looked over your shoulder. Out from the scarring, popped the smallest amount of new cartilage.

The cycle would begin again.

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#ambswrites #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #dark fic #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan imagine

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planet-marz1 · 6 months

Text

Is It Over Now?

Summary: Still reeling from Joel's revelation, you find solace in someone new. Pairing: Joel x F!Reader Word Count: ~7.1k

Tags/Warnings:18+MDNI no use of y/n, jackson!joel, established relationship, angst, somewhat? happy ending, infidelity, joel just kinda sucks honestly,alcohol consumption, implied smut (not with joel), lots of joel tears, pet names (sweetheart), jealousy, insecurities, self doubt, reader is in her healing era, reader slaps a bitch (it's deserved, I swear)

A/N: Hi! This is the second, and final part of this series, though I have a few more drabbles & oneshots planned to write and post. This is dedicated to my love @kajashe 💗 and thank you to my beloved @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for beta reading this for me! and yet another thank you to all of my friends who listened to me ramble on about this for the past several days in discord 💜

beautiful dividers by @/saradika

follow my fic updates blog @planetmarz1-notifs

| part i | series masterlist | main masterlist |

The passing weeks were a blur of emotional turmoil and quiet introspection. The once-familiar routines of life felt like a distant memory, replaced by a persistent ache that accompanied every moment of solitude. Your days were marked by the slow process of healing, a journey undertaken one painful step at a time.

Joel had respected your request for space, retreating to the refuge of his brother Tommy's home. The absence of his presence in your shared space only served as a constant reminder of the void that had opened up in your life. Jackson carried on with its daily rhythm, oblivious to the personal upheaval that had unfolded within its walls.

Nights were the hardest. The quiet darkness seemed to amplify the echoes of the past, and sleep became an elusive visitor. The couch where you had waited for Joel that fateful night became a throne of solitude, the cushions bearing silent witness to the nights spent wrestling with the fragments of a broken heart.

In moments of vulnerability, you allowed yourself to revisit the memories of the life you had built together. Photographs adorned the walls, frozen moments in time that now carried the weight of bittersweet nostalgia. The laughter, the shared dreams, and the quiet moments of connection—all now tainted by the knowledge of his betrayal.

The settlement's whispers reached your ears—a mix of sympathy, curiosity, and the well-intentioned attempts of friends trying to fill the void left by Joel's absence. Their concern was palpable, but the wounds were still fresh, the healing a slow and arduous process.

Alone in the quiet living room, the remnants of your shattered relationship lingered like ghosts in the air. The moon cast a cold glow through the window, illuminating the space where the truth had been laid bare. The weight of Joel's confession hung heavy in the room, and you were left grappling with a mix of emotions that threatened to consume you.

You sat on the couch, staring into the darkness outside, your mind racing to make sense of the betrayal. Every corner of the room seemed to echo with the whispers of the life you thought you knew, now tainted by the harsh reality of Joel's infidelity.

The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant sounds of the settlement outside. You replayed the moments leading up to this revelation, searching for signs you might have missed, clues that could have prepared you for the storm that had now engulfed your relationship.

The ache in your chest deepened, and you could feel the hot prickle of tears threatening to spill over. Anguish, betrayal, and confusion mingled in a tumultuous storm within you. You wanted answers, an explanation that could somehow make sense of the wreckage now surrounding you.

The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds, marking the passage of time in a world that suddenly felt unfamiliar. As you sat there in the quiet, you wondered how the foundation of your life had crumbled so swiftly, like sand slipping through your fingers.

Outside, the settlement continued its slumber, blissfully unaware of the personal cataclysm unfolding within your home. You needed time to process the truth, to navigate the emotional minefield that now lay before you.

The door creaked open, and Joel stepped back into the room, his eyes filled with regret. The air tensed as he hesitated, unsure of his place in this shattered reality. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice heavy with the weight of the words.

You looked up, your eyes meeting his. The distance between you felt insurmountable, a vast chasm that had opened up in the wake of his betrayal. "I need time to figure this out," you said, your voice steady despite the tempest of emotions within you.

Joel nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the consequences he had brought upon himself. As he left the room again, the door closing softly behind him, you were left alone with the wreckage of a love that had weathered countless storms, only to be undone by the tempest within.

So here you are now, at the Tipsy Bison, with its low hum of conversations and the comforting clink of glasses, served as a temporary escape from the turmoil within. The dimly lit bar offered a semblance of solace, a place to drown the sorrows that had become constant companions.

You sat alone at the bar, nursing a drink, the amber liquid reflecting the flickering candlelight. The weight of recent events lingered, a heavy burden you sought to momentarily cast aside. The soft music in the background provided a melancholic soundtrack to the evening.

As you stared into the depths of your drink, Noah took the seat next to you—a familiar face in the crowd, someone you'd seen around the settlement but never really paid much attention to. His attempts at small talk were met with your usual indifference. In the past, your loyalty to Joel had been unwavering, and the idea of entertaining advances from others never crossed your mind.

Tonight, however, the rules had shifted. The wounds of heartbreak were still raw, and the empty space beside you echoed the absence of a familiar presence. Noah persisted, undeterred by your initial disinterest.

"Rough night?" he asked, a half-smile playing on his lips.

You looked at him, a mixture of exhaustion and pain in your eyes. "You could say that."

Noah nodded, understanding glinting in his eyes. "Sometimes a drink is the only company we've got."

A subtle smile played on your lips as you reciprocated his banter. "Seems like you're here for more than just the drinks."

He chuckled, a warmth in his voice. "Well, it's not every night I get to share the bar with someone as intriguing as you, sweetheart"

The dance of flirtation continued, the bar becoming a stage where you and Noah played out a scene of shared laughter and camaraderie. The soft music provided a backdrop to the banter, a temporary escape from the weight that had settled on your shoulders.

Noah leaned in, his voice a low murmur. "You know, I've seen you around, but we've never really talked. What brings you here tonight?"

You sighed, a moment of vulnerability slipping through. "Just trying to forget for a little while, I guess."

He nodded, his gaze thoughtful. "Sometimes, a little distraction is all we need."

As the night wore on, the boundaries between reality and the fleeting connection blurred. Noah became a temporary ally in a battle against the memories that threatened to engulf you. In the shadows of the Tipsy Bison, you allowed yourself a momentary escape, a reprieve from the heartache that still clung to the edges of your world.

The hours passed in a haze of shared stories and laughter. Noah proved to be an unexpected source of comfort, his presence a balm to the wounds that had yet to fully heal. The Tipsy Bison became a refuge, a sanctuary where, for a brief moment, the weight of heartbreak was lifted.

As the night progressed, Noah's conversation turned more earnest, his gaze holding a sincerity that resonated with you. "You know," he said, his voice softened by the dim ambiance of the bar, "Sometimes it helps to talk about what's going on. You don't have to carry it all alone."

The vulnerability in his words echoed the vulnerability you had been avoiding. The temptation to open up, to share the burden, tugged at the edges of your restraint. "It's just been a tough time," you admitted, a hint of gratitude in your voice.

Noah nodded, his eyes filled with understanding. "I get that. Life has a way of throwing curveballs when we least expect it."

The moment stretched, the connection between you deepening. The bar, once a backdrop for distraction, now felt like a space where two people navigating the complexities of life found common ground.

As the night neared its end, Noah leaned in, his voice a whisper. "I'm not an expert in fixing things, but if you ever need someone to listen, I'm here."

His sincerity resonated, and you nodded appreciatively. "Thank you, Noah. It means more than you know."

The Tipsy Bison, with its flickering lights and the hum of conversations, witnessed a different side of you that night—a side that embraced vulnerability and sought solace in unexpected places. As you parted ways, the weight on your shoulders felt a bit lighter, and the bar's exit became a threshold to a world where healing, though uncertain, seemed a little more attainable.

The night air felt cool as you and Noah stepped out of the bar, the soft glow from the neon sign casting a gentle halo around you. The settlement slept in the quiet darkness, oblivious to the shared moments of connection that had unfolded within the bar's walls.

The walk back to your house was a journey through silent streets, the hushed conversations between you and Noah punctuated by the occasional rustle of leaves in the night breeze. The weight of the evening's revelations lingered, but in Noah's company, it felt less burdensome.

As you approached the front door, you turned to him, a newfound warmth in your eyes. "Do you want to come in? Maybe have another drink?" The invitation hung in the air, a testament to the unexpected bond that had formed between you.

Noah's response was a gentle smile "I'd like that," he said, his voice carrying a sense of genuine camaraderie.

The door opened with a soft creak, and the familiar comfort of your home greeted you both. The living room, once a witness to heartache, now seemed to hold the promise of shared moments and tentative healing.

You settled on the couch, the echoes of the night's laughter still lingering. The air felt charged with the unspoken, a connection that transcended the confines of mere friendship. As you poured another round of drinks, the silence between you felt comfortable, a space where words were unnecessary.

Noah's eyes met yours, and in that shared gaze, there was an understanding that words could not fully capture. The vulnerability of the evening had laid bare the complexities of your heart, and Noah, in his quiet way, seemed to offer a respite from the storm.

As the night unfolded, the connection deepened. Laughter, shared stories, and the gentle ebb and flow of conversation filled the room. In that unexpected companionship, you found solace—a reminder that, even in the aftermath of heartbreak, there were still moments of connection waiting to be discovered.

The time you two had spent together at the bar had been a catalyst for change, and now, in the quietude of your home, you allowed the night to unfold, unsure of where it might lead but grateful for the warmth that had found its way into the cracks of a wounded heart.

The ambiance in the room shifted subtly, the air thickening with a newfound energy that danced between you and Noah. The shared laughter and easy conversation took on a softer note, and the space on the couch seemed to shrink, drawing you both closer.

You caught Noah's gaze lingering, his eyes holding a warmth that went beyond mere camaraderie. The flickering candlelight cast a gentle glow on his features, highlighting the sincerity in his eyes. A charged silence settled between you, one that spoke volumes without the need for words.

As you sipped your drinks, the magnetic pull of the moment intensified. The shared vulnerability of the evening had forged a connection that transcended the ordinary, and in the quietude of the living room, the boundaries between friendship and something more blurred.

Noah's fingers traced absentminded patterns on the rim of his glass, and his gaze met yours with a subtle intensity. The unspoken tension hung in the air, a delicate dance that neither of you seemed eager to disrupt.

The air seemed to hum with anticipation as you leaned in, drawn by an invisible force that defied explanation. The room held its breath, and in that suspended moment, your lips brushed against each other in a gentle, tentative kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as the kiss deepened, the warmth of Noah's touch sending a current of electricity through you. The weight of heartbreak momentarily lifted, replaced by the promise of something new, something uncharted.

You don’t care about anything else but losing yourself in the feeling of being loved even if just for tonight. As the passion between you continues to escalate with each passing second, all thoughts of tomorrow fade away into oblivion leaving only this one perfect moment stretching out endlessly before the two of you like an eternal embrace.

The air in your home was filled with a mix of holiday scents — the piney aroma of the Christmas tree, the faint whiff of cinnamon from the candles scattered around the room. It was Christmas Eve, and the settlement was adorned with festive lights and decorations.

You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of the deep green dress you had chosen for the occasion. Despite the outward festivities, a quiet melancholy clung to you, a reminder of the heartbreak that still lingered beneath the surface.

As you finished getting ready, the soft knock on the door signaled Noah's arrival. His presence, a comforting constant in the weeks that followed that unexpected encounter, had become a source of solace. Tonight, however, the prospect of a Christmas party loomed, and the idea of celebrating seemed to clash with the healing wounds of your past.

Noah entered, a warm smile on his face as he took in your appearance. "You look stunning," he remarked, his eyes reflecting a mixture of admiration and concern.

You managed a small smile in return, the weight of your unspoken thoughts evident in your eyes. "Thanks, Noah. I'm just not sure I'm in the festive mood, you know?"

He approached and gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "I understand. But Maria insisted, and maybe being around people, even for a little while, might help."

Reluctantly, you nodded, acknowledging the truth in his words. Maria had been a steadfast presence in your life, offering support and encouragement as you navigated the aftermath of heartbreak. Tonight's Christmas party was her attempt to bring a glimmer of joy into your world.

Together, you and Noah made your way through the decorated streets toward the town center. The settlement buzzed with festive energy — laughter, music, and the scent of holiday treats wafting through the air. As you approached the venue, the warm glow of lights spilled from the windows, casting a welcoming glow.

The Christmas Eve party in town was in full swing, with the warm glow of lights and the spirited energy of the season enveloping the settlement. As you navigated the festive atmosphere with Noah at your side, the subtle shift in your mood was palpable. The healing process was slow, but the comfort of friends and the shared moments of celebration were working their magic.

As you entered the bustling venue, your eyes caught a familiar figure across the room — Joel. Time seemed to freeze for a moment, the shock of seeing him after weeks of absence coursing through your veins. His presence cast a shadow over the festive scene, and the room suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier with unspoken history.

Noah sensed your tension, his grip on your hand tightening in a silent reassurance. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern etched across his face.

You nodded, attempting to mask the surprise that rippled beneath the surface. "Yeah, I just… I didn't expect to see him here."

Noah glanced toward Joel, his expression thoughtful. "Do you want to leave? We can go somewhere quieter."

You considered the offer, but something in you resisted the impulse to retreat. "No, let's stay. I need to face this."

Together, you and Noah approached the gathering. As Joel noticed your presence, his eyes met yours, a mix of surprise and a hint of remorse flickering in his gaze. The air crackled with the unspoken tension of past wounds and unanswered questions.

Maria, ever perceptive, approached, greeting you with an exuberant hug, her eyes filled with warmth and understanding. Her warm smile faltered as she sensed the dynamics at play. "I didn't know he would be here. I'm sorry if this is uncomfortable for you."

You offered a tight smile, the weight of the situation settling around you. "It's okay, Maria. I can handle it."

The party unfolded with the spirited energy of the season — people dancing, laughter filling the air, and the exchange of heartfelt wishes. As you moved through the festivities, Noah's hand found yours, a subtle reassurance in the midst of the crowd.

The night progressed, and despite your initial hesitations, a subtle shift occurred. The music, the laughter, and the shared moments with friends began to chip away at the walls around your heart. The healing process was ongoing, and in the company of those who cared, the weight of heartbreak felt a little lighter.

A moment of stillness settled over the room. In that quiet pause, your eyes met Joel's once more. The unspoken history, the shattered pieces of a relationship, and the complexity of emotions were etched in that shared gaze. Noah's hand found yours again, a grounding force amidst the emotional storm.

As you navigated the remainder of the Christmas party, the unspoken tension with Joel remained, but in the company of friends and the warmth of the season, you found solace. The dance of emotions continued, and as the night unfolded, you carried with you a newfound resilience, a testament to the strength found in facing the unexpected and the hope that lingers in the aftermath of heartbreak.

Amidst the swirl of holiday festivities, your eyes inadvertently caught a glimpse of Veronica across the room. Her presence, unexpected yet inevitable in a close-knit settlement, stirred a complex mix of emotions within you. As she engaged in conversation with others, a subtle ache of self-doubt crept into your thoughts.

What did she have that made Joel cheat on me with her?

The question lingered, not born out of jealousy, but rather a yearning for understanding. The doubts festered like quiet shadows in the corners of your mind, threatening to overshadow the celebratory atmosphere.

Noah sensed the shift in your demeanor, his grip on your hand tightening as a silent gesture of support. "You okay?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

You forced a small smile, attempting to dispel the doubts that threatened to cloud the festive evening. "Yeah, just unexpected seeing her here, you know?"

Noah nodded in understanding, his gaze a reassuring anchor in the sea of emotions. "You're stronger than you think. Remember that."

As you continued to navigate the party, the glimpses of Veronica sparked moments of introspection. The dance of doubt and self-reflection unfolded, but amidst it all, a deeper truth emerged — the strength to confront insecurities and the resilience to rise above the echoes of past heartbreak.

Joel remained on the periphery, a figure in the background of the unfolding drama. The unspoken tension with Veronica echoed the complexities of relationships, and in the midst of the holiday cheer, you found a quiet resolve to focus on the present and the connections that mattered most.

As the party continued, a lingering curiosity pulled you toward Veronica. The desire for closure and understanding overshadowed the self-doubt that had surfaced. The pulsating beat of the Christmas music seemed to align with the tension in the air as you approached Veronica. The crowd hushed in the wake of your confrontation, and even the festive decorations couldn't quite drown out the charged atmosphere.

This is it, you thought, your fists clenched by your sides. Time to confront the source of this mess. "Veronica," you said, your voice edged with a simmering anger. "We need to talk."

She turned, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Well, look who decided to show up. Didn't think I'd see you here."

Hold it together, you reminded yourself, swallowing the initial surge of rage. She's not worth it. Ignoring the jab, you pressed on. "Cut the crap. What happened between you and Joel?"

Veronica chuckled, a snarky glint in her eyes. "Why don't you ask him? I'm sure he's got his version of the story."

Like I haven't already tried, you thought, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. But I want to hear it from her.Your patience wore thin, and a flash of anger ignited. "I'm asking you. What did you think you were doing?"

Veronica rolled her eyes, an unapologetic tone lacing her words. "Oh, please. Don't act clueless in all of this. Joel and I, we had our reasons."

Reasons? The word echoed in your mind, a bitter taste settling on your tongue. The retort stung, and you shot back,"What reasons could there possibly be to betray someone like that?"

Keep her on the defensive, you urged yourself. Make her face the consequences of her actions.

Veronica's smirk persisted, her snarky demeanor unyielding. "Maybe you should ask Joel what he was missing at home."

No. Don't let her deflect the blame. The anger surged again, a tempest threatening to consume reason.

The words hung in the air, a venomous revelation that fueled the anger within. The crowd around you seemed to blur as the confrontation intensified, each word exchanged an arrow that pierced through the facade of festive cheer.

Everyone knew, you mused bitterly. The whole damn town knew you and Joel were together.

As the exchange reached its peak, the energy between you and Veronica crackled with unresolved emotions. The pulsating beat of the music in the background seemed to align with the tension in the air, the crowd still hushed in the wake of your confrontation. Each word exchanged felt like a seismic tremor, shaking the foundations of the festive atmosphere.

"You're unbelievable," you seethed, the anger boiling over. "I hope you're proud of yourself." Stay strong, you reminded yourself, fighting against the torrent of emotions. You've got this.

Veronica shrugged, a nonchalant expression masking any hint of remorse. "I did what I wanted. Life's too short for regrets."

Regrets, the word echoed in your mind. Is she really that callous? Keep it together, you urged yourself, clenching your fists by your sides. Don't let her see how much she's getting to you.

Noah, sensing the escalating tension, remained by your side, a silent pillar of support. The confrontation with Veronica had become a battleground of emotions, a clash between hurt and defiance.

This is it. The moment of truth.

In a flash, the weight of anger, frustration, and betrayal coalesced into a surge of raw emotion. Without a second thought, your hand connected with Veronica's cheek in a resounding slap. The crowd, which had been observing in a stunned silence, erupted into gasps and whispers.

Veronica stumbled back, her hand on her cheek, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and indignation. The slap reverberated through the room, a cathartic release of the pent-up emotions that had been building since the revelation.

"You deserved that," you declared, your voice steady, though your heart pounded with the intensity of the moment.

As Noah guided you away from the charged atmosphere, the weight of the confrontation lingered. The Christmas party resumed its festive cheer, but the encounter with Veronica had become a defining chapter, a moment where you asserted your strength and reclaimed a sense of control in the aftermath of betrayal.

The brisk night air greeted you as you and Noah stepped out of the lively Christmas party. The settlement was adorned with a soft blanket of snow, and the crunch of each footstep echoed in the quiet winter night. The atmosphere outside was a stark contrast to the charged energy that had filled the party just moments before.

Noah kept a reassuring arm around you as you navigated the snowy path toward your house. The silence between you was a comforting one, a respite from the emotional turbulence of the evening. The distant sounds of laughter from the party gradually faded into the serene stillness of the snowy landscape.

The glow of the settlement's lights reflected off the pristine snow, casting a soft illumination on the familiar path. The events of the night lingered in the air, and as you reached your doorstep, you turned to Noah with a mixture of gratitude and exhaustion.

"Thanks for being there," you said, your voice carrying the weight of the emotions that had unfolded.

Noah nodded, his expression filled with understanding. "Anytime. You handled that with a lot of strength."

You managed a small smile, appreciating his support. "I just want to move forward, you know? Leave all this behind."

The snowflakes continued to fall, adding a sense of serenity to the moment. As you opened the door to your home, the warmth inside offered a stark contrast to the chilly night. The familiar surroundings provided a sense of solace, a haven away from the echoes of the confrontation.

The air in the room felt heavy with unspoken tension as you confronted Joel about his infidelity. The harsh reality of betrayal lingered, casting a shadow over the relationship you had thought was secure.

"Why, Joel?" you demanded, your voice a mix of pain and anger. "Who was it? Who did you cheat on me with?"

Joel hesitated, his eyes avoiding yours for a moment before meeting your gaze with a mixture of regret and guilt. "It was Veronica," he confessed, the weight of the revelation hanging in the air.

Veronica's name echoed in your mind, a face from the town, someone you had known, someone whose presence had been intertwined with your life in the settlement. The shock of the revelation was like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the room seemed to spin.

"Veronica?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. The name felt like a betrayal in itself, a person who had shared the same space as you, someone you had considered a part of the community.

Joel's expression shifted, a mix of remorse and desperation. "I messed up, It wasn't about her. It was about me, about the mistakes I made."

The words did little to ease the pain, and the room became a battleground of conflicting emotions. Anguish, betrayal, and disbelief swirled within you, a storm of feelings that threatened to overwhelm.

As you absorbed the revelation, the weight of the truth settled. Veronica, a name that had been a mere background detail in the tapestry of your life, now held a significance that cut deep. The confrontation with Joel had peeled back the layers of the facade, revealing a reality you had never anticipated.

In the midst of the emotional maelstrom, you took a step back, needing distance to process the harsh truth. The room, once a sanctuary, felt foreign and unwelcoming. The echoes of the revelation hung in the air, and as Joel sought words of apology, you grappled with the shattered pieces of a relationship that had crumbled in the wake of betrayal.

The weight of that night lingered in your thoughts. Veronica's presence, once a casual detail in the fabric of your life, had become a symbol of a painful chapter in your past. The journey of healing continued, marked by the scars of the confrontation and the resolve to move forward, one step at a time.

The soft murmur of pages turning and the hushed whispers of readers created a peaceful ambiance in the small settlement's library. As the librarian, you were engrossed in arranging the shelves when the door creaked open. A tall, rugged man entered, a hint of unfamiliarity etched into the lines of his face.

Joel, a newcomer to the community, you’d seen him around town with a young girl practically attached at his hip. He cast an assessing glance around the room before approaching the counter where you stood. His eyes, weathered and guarded, met yours as he cleared his throat, his voice gruff but not unkind. "I'm lookin' for books about space."

You looked up from your task, offering a warm smile. "Space, huh? Planning a journey to the stars?" you teased, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

Joel's lips twitched into a small smile, a rare expression on his usually stoic face. "Not exactly. Got a kid back home who's mighty interested in space. Wants to know everything there is."

Interest sparked in your eyes as you couldn't help but inquire, "Your daughter, then?"

He hesitated, a subtle shift in his gaze, but he didn't correct you. "Yeah, somethin' like that."

Your smile widened. "Well, you've come to the right place. We've got a stellar collection—pun intended."

Joel nodded, a silent acknowledgment of your attempt at humor. "Good to know."

As you led him through the aisles, the conversation flowed easily. He shared stories of Ellie, a girl he watched over, protected, and cared for deeply. The love in his words painted a vivid picture, and when you mentioned how wonderful it was that he and his "daughter" shared such interests, he didn't correct you.

"So, what's her favorite subject?" you asked, your tone playfully nudging towards the unspoken connection.

He chuckled, a soft warmth in his eyes. "Space, definitely. She's got a million questions about stars, planets, you name it."

You grinned, leaning slightly closer. "Well, Joel, it seems you've got a budding astronomer on your hands. Lucky for you, I'm an expert in celestial matters."

Joel's expression remained stoic, but there was a subtle glint of amusement in his eyes. "Is that so?"

You nodded, your gaze meeting his with a hint of mischief. "Absolutely. But my expertise doesn't come cheap. I'll need payment in the form of a good conversation and maybe a coffee sometime."

Joel's chuckle deepened, and a grin tugged at the corners of his lips. "Coffee, huh? You got yourself a deal."

As Joel left the library with a stack of books, you couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth. The door closed behind him, leaving you with the subtle hum of excitement and the gentle echo of playful banter that seemed to linger in the air. The library, once a quiet haven of solitude, now held the promise of a story unfolding—one with celestial wonders and perhaps a touch of romance.

in the quiet moments of reflection, your mind often wandered to the time when you and Joel first met. The memory used to bring a warm smile to your face—the genuine laughter, the shared dreams, the promise of a future entwined with his. But now, each recollection was tainted by the bitter sting of betrayal, and the nostalgia had become a source of pain.

As you sat alone in the dimly lit room, the flickering shadows seemed to mimic the turbulence within your heart. The memory of your first meeting played in your mind like a melancholy film—a reminder of the love that had once been untarnished. The weight of what had transpired since then pressed down on you, leaving a bitter aftertaste to a memory that had once been so sweet.

The soft hum of a distant song, a melody you both used to share, brought a wave of conflicting emotions. Your mind wandered back to that day—the laughter, the stolen glances, the electric feeling of a connection that transcended words. It was a time when you looked into his eyes and felt like you had found something extraordinary.

But now, those memories were haunted by the echoes of his infidelity, and the rose-tinted glasses you once wore shattered, revealing the painful truth beneath. The laughter had become an echo, the glances a cruel reminder, and the connection a frayed thread threatening to unravel.

In the midst of the emotional turmoil, you found yourself thinking, almost wistfully, about what life would have been like if you'd never met Joel. The thought was a bitter pill to swallow, a testament to the depth of the wounds inflicted.

You replayed the scenes of your shared history—the highs and the lows, the joy and the heartbreak. The almost-wish lingered in the recesses of your mind, a testament to the profound impact of betrayal on the once cherished memories.

Joel has shown up at your door, trying to extend a tentative olive branch, an attempt to breach the chasm that had widened between you. His words were carefully chosen, an apology that carried the weight of remorse. He expressed a longing for resolution, a desire to face the consequences of his actions and rebuild what had been lost. “Can I come in?” he says hesitantly, trying to gauge your emotional state.

Reluctantly you nod, and step aside, allowing him into the house.

The weight of Joel's confession hung in the air. The room steeped in a heavy silence, and charged with the weight of unresolved emotions as you and Joel sat facing each other. The revelation of his infidelity with Veronica had unearthed a raw vulnerability. It had left your relationship hanging in the balance.You needed answers that transcended the initial betrayal. You both needed to confront the difficult question of where to go from here.

"Why, Joel?" you questioned, your voice steady but edged with a yearning for understanding. "I get that you were lost, but why did you keep cheating with her after the first time? Why not just admit it to me after it happened once?"

Joel's gaze met yours, his eyes carrying the weight of guilt. He took a moment before responding, as if grappling with his own internal turmoil.

"I didn't know how to face it," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "The shame, the guilt—it overwhelmed me. And every time it happened again, the weight of that guilt just grew. I was trapped in a cycle, and I couldn't find a way out."

Your brow furrowed, a mix of frustration and disbelief settling within you. "So, instead of admitting your mistake and trying to make amends, you kept it a secret and continued to betray our relationship?"

Joel nodded, the admission heavy on his conscience. "I thought if I could just stop, if I could find a way to break free from that cycle, I could spare you the pain of knowing. But each time, I failed. It became a vicious cycle I couldn't escape."

The room seemed to close in as the gravity of his words sank in. The cycle of betrayal, a web of lies and shame, had perpetuated itself, leaving both of you ensnared in the consequences.

"But why?" you pressed, your voice a mixture of frustration and sadness. "Why not face the consequences and be honest with me? We could have worked through it together, Joel."

His eyes reflected the internal struggle, a war between the truth and the self-imposed isolation he had subjected himself to. "I was scared. Scared of losing you, scared of facing disappointment. It was a selfish choice, and I see that now."

The admission hung in the air, a painful acknowledgment of the choices that had led to the fracture of trust. The room, once a sanctuary, now felt like a battlefield of emotions.

"So, you kept hurting me to protect yourself," you whispered, the weight of the realization settling on your shoulders.

Joel's gaze remained fixed on the floor, his silence confirming the painful truth. The unraveling of the secrets and the depths of his struggles became a sobering reality, and as you navigated the aftermath of betrayal, the room seemed to echo with the weight of unspoken regrets and the yearning for a path forward.

The room felt like a suffocating space, each revelation adding weight to the heavy air. Joel's admission of infidelity hung between you, a chasm that seemed impossible to bridge. After a moment of tense silence, you found the strength to voice the truth that had been echoing in your heart.

After a moment, you gathered the courage to voice the question that lingered in the room like an unspoken specter. "What now, Joel? What does this mean for us?"

Joel looked up, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of desperation and remorse. "I messed up. I know I can't change the past, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. If you're willing to give me another chance, I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

Your gaze met his, and for a moment, the memories of a time when love flowed effortlessly between you resurfaced. There had been a time when you looked into his eyes and couldn’t imagine a future, a universe, where you didn’t stare into them for eternity. The love you had for him was one like no other, the strongest you’d ever felt for someone, for something.

But now, those eyes hold the weight of betrayal, and the road ahead seems uncertain. You took a deep breath, searching for the right words to navigate the delicate conversation.

The sincerity in his voice tugged at the frayed edges of your heart, but the wounds were fresh, and the scars of betrayal ran deep. The room seemed to hold its breath, awaiting your response.

"I can't, Joel," you said, your voice steady but laced with a profound sadness. "This-

It's too much. I can't see a way forward for us."

Joel's eyes pleaded with a mix of regret and desperation, but the gulf between you seemed insurmountable. "I messed up, I know I did, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right."

The sincerity in his voice clashed with the shattered trust, and you shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. "No, Joel. It's not just about saying sorry or making things right. It's not just about the mistake," you began, your voice measured but carrying the depth of your emotions.

"It's about the trust we had, and that trust has been shattered. This is a betrayal that cuts deep, and I don't think we can come back from it."

His face fell, the weight of realization settling in. "We've been through so much together. Please, don't end us because of one mistake."

The room seemed to close in as you grappled with the heartbreaking decision. "It's not just one mistake, Joel. It's a pattern of choices that shattered the foundation of trust we had. I can't continue a relationship where I constantly question if I'll be cheated on again.”

Joel's eyes glistened with unshed tears, and his voice wavered with a mix of remorse and desperation. "I'll change, I'll do anything to make this right. Just give me a chance."

But the echoes of his pleas couldn't drown out the resolute decision forming in your heart. "I'm sorry, Joel. It's best for both of us to move on. This is too much of a betrayal, and I need to prioritize my own well-being."

As you spoke those words, a heavy silence descended upon the room, punctuating the end of a chapter in your lives. The pain of parting, though agonizing, seemed to carry a semblance of closure. The room, once a space of shared dreams and memories, now bore witness to the painful conclusion of a relationship that had weathered too many storms.

He nodded, a somber acknowledgment of the consequences of his actions. "I know. I never meant to hurt you like this. If I could take it back, I would."

The air in the room hung heavy with the weight of a relationship on the precipice of its demise. Joel's desperate plea for forgiveness echoed in the silence, but the wounds were too fresh, and the trust too shattered to rebuild easily. You took a deep breath, a heaviness settling in your chest.

"Joel," you began, your voice steady but tinged with the pain of realization, "I appreciate your willingness to make amends, but the truth is, I can't see a way forward for us."

His eyes, once a source of comfort and love, now mirrored the anguish of a relationship slipping away. "I messed up, and I understand if you can't forgive me. But please, don't end us like this."

The sincerity in his voice tugged at the frayed edges of your heart, but you knew you couldn’t continue a relationship with him. You met his gaze, a mix of sadness and resolve in your eyes. "Joel, we had something special, something I cherished more than anything. But what we had is broken now. I can't ignore the betrayal, and I can't keep holding onto a past that's been tainted."

He reached for your hand, a desperate attempt to bridge the growing distance between you. "I'm willing to do whatever it takes, anything. I just can't imagine a future without you."

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to be transported back to a time when the future seemed boundless, and his gaze was a promise of forever. There was a time when you looked into his eyes and couldn't imagine a future where he wasn't a central part of it. But now, the love that had once felt unbreakable had shattered, leaving a void you weren't sure could be filled.

"I need to let go, Joel," you said, the weight of those words lingering in the room. "For my own sake, and for yours. We both need a chance to heal and find our own paths forward."

He nodded, a defeated acknowledgment of the reality you both faced. "I never thought we'd come to this," he admitted, his voice heavy with regret.

As the words settled, the room seemed to hold its breath. The love that had once been the anchor of your world now existed as a bittersweet memory. Joel, his gaze lowered, nodded with a heavy understanding.

"I won't forget what we had," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "I'll always love you."

And with that, you uttered the finality that had been hanging between you. "Goodbye, Joel."

The door closed behind him, marking the end of a chapter that had once been a love story. The room, once a sanctuary for shared dreams, now bore witness to the closing of a door that could no longer be left ajar. In the aftermath of goodbye, the echoes of a love that once lingered, a poignant reminder of the fragility of connection and the resilience required to forge a new path forward.

tag list: @pertinentpostmortem @party-hearses @mandoisapunk @bastardmandennis @catchallfangirl @chaotic-mystery @beskarandblasters @amanitacowboy @littlegrungegirlaf @pamasaur @pedrodascal @sweetercalypso @ilovepedro @cool-iguana @pascalpvnk @alwaysmicado @lovers-liability @futuraa-free @morgaussy @pedritoferg @spookykoolkat @wethairjoel @chronically-ghosted @buckyispunk @pattwtf @morning-star-joy @elvinaa @tinycozycomfort @magpiepills @pr0ximamidnight @joelscurls @janaispunk @5oh5 @farmerlarrry @maximoff-forevermore @atinylittlepain @joeldjarin @spookyxsam @honey-dip-24 @hiroikegawa @mcira @mrsmando @hyzer34 @limerence4u @sin-djarin @reddedmiller @joels-shitty-puns @elvinaa

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller au #joel miller fic

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shutup-andletme-go · 30 days

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okay poll time to find out which of my fics you want to know about first

please please please ask me about them if you're interested!! if you ask I promise I will write *extends my pinky to you*

#finch posts #newsies #race in the refuge fic #jack kelly #david jacobs #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #kid blink #albert da silva #mack uksies #brooklyn girlsies #snipeshooter newsies #javid #sprace #spravey #mack x her lady friend #uksies

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anton-luvr · 5 months

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can you write best friend!wonbin asking fem!reader on a date after holding his feelings for some times? thanks and congrats for 400! 🎉

# IN LOVE.

⚝ bestfriend!wonbin x fem!reader | fluff | friends 2 lovers au ⚝ note ; phew i havent posted a fic in a while,, sorry if it isn't good :( also thank u for waiting anon!! hope u like this!!! and thank u hehe

An envelope certainly wasn't the gift you were expecting from your best friend.

Nevertheless, you tried to hide your disappointment with a forced smile.

"What is it? A letter?"

Wonbin tuts at this, his long hair falling over his pretty eyes when he shakes his head.

"Just open it," he says softly, smiling. "Trust me."

You listen to the boy, tearing at the end to reveal a colorful piece of card paper.

'To the place where we first met, music loud while we drank out of cups that were red.' it read, and you can't help but laugh at his attempt at poetry.

"That's a very creative way to describe Shotaro's parties." you tease, chuckling as he scoffs and leads you to his car.

"Hey, it took me a really long time to think of that," he protested, opening the passenger door for you. "And congrats! You got the first clue correct."

You realize what this was all about as he starts to drive towards Shotaro's house, gasping in surprise.

"Is this a scavenger hunt?" you asked excitedly, waving the colorful card.

Wonbin nods, grinning at your reaction.

Anticipation and curiosity for what he had in store for you builds up in your chest as he pulls up to Shotaro's driveway, and you hop off the car to look for the next clue immediately - which was pretty easy, because Wonbin was terrible at hiding things.

"Found it!" you sang out cheerily, picking up the second brown envelope out of the bushes.

"To the place where Zuckerberg works, laughing over our food and our burps." it read, and your eyes light up at the mention of the CEO.

"The restaurant down the street!" you guessed enthusiastically.

It was one of your favorite places to eat at with Wonbin, the waiter there who looked exactly like Mark Zuckerberg always making the both of you giggle.

It took less than ten minutes to get to the restaurant, and you could see the third brown envelope before Wonbin even put the car into park.

After taking it down from the advertising posters, you tore it open.

"To the place where no one else could bother us, with stars and cold autumn gusts."

You smile at this, already knowing the place.

It was the park, a comforting refuge for the both of you to talk about anything and everything.

From teary, midnight conversations about personal struggles and worries to delirious conversations about stupid jokes and silly memes after classes, it was always your go-to place to take a breather from the hectic mess of life.

So the park was exactly where you went next, and unbeknownst to you, Wonbin was sweating bullets.

With each step you took closer to the park, the faster his heart raced.

He had been planning this for weeks, practicing and rewriting poetry for his clue cards and making sure everything was something you liked - including the surprise later on.

"Where's the next envelope?" you ask, snapping him out of his nervous trance.

Wonbin coughs, putting on a calm demeanour.

"I don't know," he lies, shrugging with a mischievous smile. "Maybe it's by the lake, maybe it's by the bridge, or maybe it's by the playground. It's up to you to find out."

You jokingly huff at this, tugging him after you by the arm as you ran towards the bridge.

It was where the both of you always stood by while talking, gazing at the stars at night and watching the reflection of the moon over the shimmering lake.

"You know, this game is too easy." you boasted as you made your way over. "I could guess these places almost immediately."

But your boast doesn't last long when you notice a trail of flower petals on the ground, voice dying down as you followed each one up to the bridge.

The wood creaked underneath your feet as you reached the centre of the bridge, just to find...

Nothing.

There was no envelope, no gift, no box - nothing.

"'Bin, where's the next envelope?" you asked, turning around in confusion.

And when you do just so, everything fades away into silence.

"Happy birthday!" he beams, suddenly holding a huge bouquet of your favorite flowers from god-knows-where.

Your jaw falls open and closes shut just to fall open again, at a complete loss of words.

But you didn't have to worry much longer about what to say next, because Wonbin beats you to it.

"I've been wanting to ask you this for a really long time, so here goes nothing." he stutters, face reddening as he took a quick deep breath.

"Y/N, I'm in love with you." he admits slowly and bashfully, his shining eyes gazing right into yours.

"I'm in love with the way you smile, the way you laugh, the way you talk. The way you're always so loving to the people around you, the way you always see the good in life. I'm in love with you when we're drunk at three in the morning and you're throwing up in my bathroom, and I'm in love with you when we're driving down the highway with the windows down and music at full blast. I'm in love with you now, and I always will be."

Your heart hammers in your chest as he gets closer to you, so close that his golden star necklace was dangling right in front of your face.

"Will you give me a chance and go out with me?"

His words echo through your blank mind, but you already knew your answer.

There was no one else in the world who understood you the way Wonbin did, and you had always waited for a day like this - a day where the both of you could start calling each other mine.

"Yes," you giggled, gently taking the flowers out of his hands. "I'll definitely go out with you."

Wonbin lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, relief and joy washing over him.

"Thank you." he says softly, slipping his hands into yours and squeezing them.

"No, thank you." you repeat, smiling as you wrap your arms around him. "This is the best thing I could ever ask for."

He's used to hugging you, but this one felt different.

He could feel the love radiating off of your body, your hearts racing against each other's.

"You're the best thing I could ever ask for." he whispers.

taglist: @wonbons @mxlly143 @keehobaldboy @shawyle @yenart @lycheecheeseyogurt (drop an ask to be tagged! + tags in bold couldn't be tagged)

#sarah's 400 ! ☆#riize #riize fics #riize fluff #riize drabbles #riize imagines #riize scenarios #riize wonbin #wonbin

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fizzyxcustard · 5 months

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Stranded (Drabble)

Another fic that I should have worked on a LONG time ago, and has been sat in my inbox for nearly two years. Requested by @lathalea with the arranged marriage trope mashed up with being stranded due to weather, with our favourite Dwarf King.

I'm only tagging @littlesweetdressmaker (at her specific request)

I know this is probably longer than a drabble, but it's just intended to be a very short piece and that's why I'm not tagging anyone, unless they specifically request.

The wind whirled outside, shaking the roof of the small hut where you and Thorin had taken refuge. The snow was now so deep that you could barely open the door, so you were grateful that Thorin had already chopped some branches from a nearby tree, as the snow got heavier, for you to use as firewood.

The storm had hit suddenly, out of the blue, only a week before your wedding. Thorin was still confused as to why you had volunteered to go with him on a private meeting. The meeting was due to take place the following day with his cousin, Dain. Thorin hoped that Roac would come to their aid shortly, and be able to send a message on to Dain, confirming that Thorin would not be in attendance.

“Once the snow has cleared, I will be returning to Erebor with you, to not only attend your wedding, but make sure you get home safely,” Thorin ordered. “The meeting with Dain can be re-arranged.”

“I feel guilty for being the reason that your meeting will be cancelled,” you said softly. Your gaze scanned the floor, locking on your boots. In truth, you wanted to be away from Erebor as long as possible, as it meant you would remain unmarried. Your father had arranged for the marriage a few years ago. But now you had returned to Erebor from the Blue Mountains after Thorin had been victorious at the Battle of Five Armies, your father had renewed the arrangement.

“You seem pensive,” Thorin said, rubbing his hands together over the small open fire. The hut was fairly well stocked with blankets, but other items were scarce. His silver-blue gaze drifted over you, and he noticed you shiver.

Thorin grabbed a blanket and curled it around your shoulders.

You could smell his earthy scent and the penetration of his gaze made you swallow hard and your heart race. He was so breathtakingly beautiful and had always seemed so unaware of that fact.

The two of you looked at each other for a few seconds, and slowly, Thorin moved towards you.

You took a sharp intake of breath just as his lips pressed to yours. Heat rose, and in those moments, all you cared about was him. In fact, for the last year, all your world had been was him. But he had never known.

As your kiss ended, he curled his hand around your flushed cheek. Tears began to well in his eyes as he knew that you were betrothed to someone else and would never be his.

#Thorin Oakenshield #The Hobbit #Request #Thorin x You #Thorin x Reader #Thorin x fem!Reader #Thorin Oakenshield x You #Thorin Oakenshield x Reader #Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader #Fic #Drabble #Imagine #Hobbit Imagine #Thorin Imagine #Richard Armitage

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afewfantasies · 1 month

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🏔️The Retreat 🏔️- Prologue

Prologue | Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Misc references & details

Summary: Set after the events of the war Gale and Lorena are recovering from what they thought life would be and their new realities. Gale and Lorena were deeply in love with their respective significant others before the war, they had big dreams and grand plans for their futures together. Only it was not to be. Gale turns into a bit of a recluse and takes to a Lakeside retreat in the mountains away from city life when things with Marge don’t go as planned. After a hard breakup and subsequent divorce from her husband Lorena ends up at Gale’s retreat looking for work and a place to stay. This is an angsty fic that follows the themes of love, loss and recovering from trauma.

Pairing: Gale Cleven (MOTA Austin Butler) x Lorena (black fem oc)

Warnings: Race is a factor but there will be no overwhelmingly racist outbursts. It is more so a discovery element and explorations, different worlds, a little forbidden love element.

Tropes: Slow Burn, opposites attract, forbidden love, angst

--------------------------------Prologue----------------------------------

It had happened so fast, the war that had changed everything. The war that broke men, women and children. That forced people so far away from lives of relative peace into lives of rations, scarcity and pain. Lorena had been married then before the call for men had happened. Happily married. Reggie was the reason she drew breath and she the reason he existed. They’d been a loving couple, they were young beautiful, happy, full of life with the brightest of futures. They were on everybody’s list of dinner party guests. They shared hearty laughs and passionate nights and if anyone could have bet on a couple that would have made it, it would have been them.

Only it wasn’t to be.

Wars change even the best of men, after the first year Lorena’s dedication to writing daily never wained. She held everything inside, pouring her heart over the pages and keeping him informed. In month nine Reggie’s letters became less frequent, she felt the distance in the passages, in the reduced length of each reply and the heat fading from every I love you.

The news reports only confirmed that the boys were enduring a shellacking unlike anything known to men. Meetings with the other wives lessened as time passed as well. Some of their husbands had returned home broken. Missing limbs, too far gone to continue the good fight. With each influx of broken men it seemed the women around her only broke more and more. Sadness became a close friend and like many of the others Lorena picked up the habit of a cigarette and some whisky to lull her her sleep at night. Her home also became a refuge for those wives whose husbands returned as violent strangers, trained and efficient at killing.

Year two Reggies letters slowed to a few times a month. Still Lorena maintained her frequency as a good wife should. Her proclamations of love more and more sincere as she recalled their fondest times together in her memories and she yearned for him to return safely. His safety was paramount. She was ready for the war to be over, for her love to return and for a fresh start. The two years had withered her, her hands had become warn from the loss of their housekeeper. Her dresses worn in from their repeated use and the lack of funds and seamstresses. It also felt frivolous to spend on dresses without the person she wanted to admire her in them.

Her journals pages filled with her inner thoughts and the feelings too desperate to be shares, her hopes, fears and suspicions. Carmen Kloss’ husband had called her another woman’s name in the throes of passion. When he came back to reality and saw his wife he left their marital bed to cry outside. After an awful row Carmen discovered that there was another woman, a laundress stationed near him while he was recovering from wounds. There was an affair and a child on the way until she was killed by a bombardment. Now they lived in the same house with a Great Wall of distance between them no better than strangers. Long gone were the two people who cared for each other tremendously.

Heartbreak was all around. Still Lorena put it away and when the ships arrived after victory had returned she was hysterical to have her man return whole and of sound mind. Reggie had held her so tight, he stared all day and night like she was this elusive creature, like she would disappear and he’d wake up to find himself in a dream if he dared looking away. It was good for the first month until a letter came in the post. A perfumed letter. That night he’d come to bed and fell asleep without holding her. He began smoking more, all of a sudden he was full of stress and exhaustion. The ruse was gone the more people came to look for him. It was clear to Lorena that there was a tremendous amount of life that she would never become privy to. Conversation became far and few until the flame was all but extinguished. Somehow the pain of him present but so far way hurt more then his time away at war. Her heart knew it was another woman when he finally seemed to breathe at the arrival of her letters.

“I won’t hold an affair against you if it was what you needed to survive the war and feel comfort” she said finally breaking the silence between them. His head fell with shame immediately confirming her every suspicion.

“Lo” he said.

“You don’t have to explain, I just need you to be here. To want to be here and to love me” she whispered.

“I do want you Lorena” he’d responded voice cracking.

Therein lied the conflict. His heart was split but not as hers was.

“I love you Lorena, I’ll always love you” he said with commitment. He had, it was true. At least it had been once, she was sure of it. It was in the way he walked, talked and looked at her but now that warmth was reserved for when he was penning replies to his wartime lover’s letters.

His words said one things and his actions another. The other husbands looked at her differently as she entered dinner parties, the wives looked at her with empathy instead of longing jealousy. It was clear and when the younger version of her walked through the doors of the banquet hall and his eyes lit up it was all the heartbreak she would take. She walked seven miles back to the house in her heels and dress. She had asked god to bring him back whole and sane and the lord had answered the prayers. The man she loved with everything in her was alive and well and she could be thankful for that. As much as her heart and feet ached that night she could not hate him or the other woman for being the reason they’d survived the war. All the killing, bloodshed and loss was something she could never imagine. He was still all she needed but the distance was too much and Lorena could no longer stomach it. Stomach knowing what a night of passion was like with her husband who could only now drape an arm around her sparing a few chaste kisses a week. The man who’d been adamant about trying for a child as soon as he returned but couldn’t get the deed done anymore.

It wasn’t lack of kindness of affection, his tone was still loving and his touches gentle, he was still a considerate husband. He was still far better than most but there was an absence of that unmistakable spark that existed between them that had once burned bright. He’d arrived home to her cleaning her bloody feet riddled with concern. Lorena refused all his questions on what happened. He’d cleaned the scars diligently. He was attentive to her every breath. That night he’d held her close concerned for her well being. She spent an hour in the bathroom crying in the shower.

“Reggie, I know you love me but I know you’re in love with her and I cannot in good conscience stay here when you’ve been through enough anguish and deserve to be truly happy.” Her words broke him. The tears that flow were only confirmation she’d never seen him cry, she couldn’t shed a tear or he’d never leave and remained committed to his vows. It would be a tragedy she could never survive. Lorena was strong but she could never be that strong. She refused the house and all of its valuables taking two cases of tattered dresses and garments and a sac of other keepsakes dear to her. In the matter of hours she’d gone from a well kept wife who’d never done a day of labour in her 25 years to a homeless divorcee.

Her plan was simple, drive as far as the car could take her on her savings, find a place to stay and respectable work. The rest would have to follow. Her parents would only cause scandal and exasperate the situation between her and Reggie. The last thing she wanted was chatter surrounding her failed marriage while her heart was on the mend.

Author's Note: Very different from Feyd's Blade, ik ik, but the hopelessness in the soldiers eyes during the prison camp scenes of masters of the air pulled at my heart strings and so I needed to write about that return to normal. Gale is in the next part.

#austin butler #austin butler imagine #austin butler x black reader #austin butler x reader #black authors #masters of the air #mota #austin butler fanfiction #gale cleven #major gale cleven #austin butler x you

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empressgeekt · 7 months

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batfam meets the justice league fic idea, where Nightwing convinces the JL that the batfam is the last of the race Gotham bat demons...

made on moble so sorry in advance.

Okay so it starts with Batwoman and Nightwing hanging around the watchtower. Eventually someone (most likely either hal or barry) asks how they are related to batman. Batwoman claims to be his sister, and Nightwing obviously says he's his son. When the question of who Nightwing's mom comes up (along with some of the league thinking that Nightwing was an accident, cause they can't see bats settling down), Batwoman simply says, "he doesn't have one."

The convo sudden shifts to the topic of the 'history' and 'biology' of the bat demon race. How they were nearly eradicated by a war with the Amazon's, and Atlantis, only a few really surviving and finding refuge in the caves below Gotham. Hwo they used ancient forgotten magic to remove all memories of this 'war' to keep themselves save. And finally how they reproduce asexually, by reviving the souls of children who were wrongfully killed. Taking the weak dead spirit and carrying them in their own soul until it could put itself back together.

When asked if this was how Nightwing was born, they confirm it.

BW: oh yeah. Actually 'wing was kind of a surprise you could say.

Hal: surprise?

N: YEP! You see I was kinda of dad's first so he really didn't know what he was doing...

BW: and it ended with bossy big brother screaming his head off in an emergence of a batling that he didn't know he was carrying.

Barry: screaming his head off?

N: oh...well the process of soul splitting, emergence, rebirth, whatever you want to call it, includes the host's soul breaking down enough to allow the younger newly revived soul to detach. It's very painful, So I've heard.

BW; so you've heard? Kid please I know you've heard your father when it came to your siblings rebirth.

Needless to say everyone (especially hal and barry), look at Batman the same way for the next few days.

when Bruce confronts his son and cousin, he honestly can't say he hates the idea. UT would throw off any suspicions sound hus true identity. Not mention give him a new way to mess with hal.

The rest of the batfam (let's say standard webcomic cast, with Terry and Matty McGinnis [time traveled/dimensionhopped], along with flashpoint!batman, because they deserve to be in the safe place rhay is the batfam too, for funies), also find this cover story hilarious, and spend all of dinner adding to the bat-demon mythos.

Thomas would've been the last surviving member of the demon army, who retreated and sought refuge in Gotham, along with his human turned immortal companion of Alfred. Bruce, Kate, and Luke (batwing) would his 'children'.

The normal children would all still be Bruce's. Inculding spoiler, as why she claims she isn't Bruce's daughter, she isn't passing up the chance to mess with the JL.

Eventually the idea gets suggested that they should trick the JL into believing that Batman is pregnant with a new batling. The prank idea slowly snowballs from there and Bruce is unable to stop it. So he agrees to join in, ans rhe prank planninf begins. Matty immediately volunteers to be the new batling, because he technically the youngest and doesn't have a vigilante alter ego yet.

The prank starts out slow. Batwoman and Nightwing increase their visits to the watchtower? Specially when batman is there and they are usually in the same room as him.

Bruce pretends to be more tired often, even pretending to take a nap, where the JL can find him. He also fakes head aches.

Eventually Clark asks him if he's alright. And Nightwing responds with

N: of course he's not. He's working too hard.

B: Nightwing...

N: there's a reason me and aunt BW following you, and it's so you don't over do it!

B: nightwing...

N: even grandfather is worried.

B: Nightwing. I have been through this 8 times already. I think I know my limits. Besides your grandfather has always been worried over the thought of a new spawn in the house.

Clark: !!!!

Once more things around batman grow awkward for the next few weeks.

The end of the fic would be the JL visiting the "bat domain" to meet Matty dressed up in a mask and brightly colored suit. And finding out about the literal small army that batman's been building. Not to mention cameo of Thomas in his bat suit scaring the living crap out if the justice league, and having the time of his life.

Edit: Alright its official, this is going to be my holiday special for this year. So, around Christmas time I'll post a link so yall can read this.

Edit 2: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51963331/chapters/131402920

Happy holidays! hears and early present!

#justice league #batfamily #humor #crack fic #Justice league meets batfamily #batfam #batdad #batkids #I don't know why my brain came up with this #thomas wayne #terry mcginnis #matt mcginnis #flashpoint batman #Let these guys be a happy family that enjoys screwing with their dads coworkers

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angryschnauzer · 2 years

Text

By The Waning Crescent Moon

Summary: As an Omega you know you need to get home before your Heat starts, but when your car breaks down in the woods you need to seek refuge somewhere safe... surely a Convent will be the best place? Little do you know the nuns have long since left, only to be replaced by the worst possible thing; a pack of Werewolves. Even worse, its a full moon. Fandom: Henry Cavill, Sand Castle - Movie.

Wordcount: 4949

Pairing: Alpha Werewolf Syverson x Omega Female reader (no race or body type specified)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Unprotected Sex, Desecration of Religious artefacts, Knotting, Werewolf Sex, Monsterfucking, Unplanned Pregnancy, ABO Dynamics

I do not run a tag list, instead please follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, you’ll then get an alert each time i post something new. My AO3 also has my entire back catalogue of stories (going back to 2013).

Henry Cavill Masterlist

A/N: This story has been stuck in WIP hell for a couple of months, i originally got psyched to write an entire werewolf gangbang, but then all the bullshit in the USA happened and yeah, forced pregnancy wasn’t at the forefront of everyone’s to do list, even in fanfic. Furthermore the wolf gang was originally going to be a biker gang, but another amazing writer @sillyrabbit81 has since launched a truly amazing biker gang reverse harem fic, i decided to shelve that idea and instead sit on the original thought of werewolves for a while. I then had inspiration to make this a Syverson story, so here we go. The Were sex scene is heavily inspired by the graveyard scene between Lucy and Dracula in Bram Stokers Dracula movie, which in my opinion is one of the greatest creature feature/monsterfucking movies in the history of cinema.

By the Waning Crescent Moon

You waited at the stop light, the remote intersection of two highways high up in the hills of logging country. It was dusk, yet the sky was hidden behind obsidian clouds, heavy rain systems waiting to release their downpours in sporadic outbursts. Despite the cold rain dulling the summer evening, you were burning up. You’d stopped at the last gas station and had stocked up on a huge slush drink and a popsicle, but neither had done anything to quell the growing warmth within your body. Sat in your flimsy sundress you were at least grateful that in a moment of optimism that morning you’d dressed for good weather, even if you’d spent the day wrapped in the cardigan you’d found on the back seat. However now as you felt a droplet of sweat make its way down your neck and cleavage, you cursed and opened the window, grateful for the cool damp air against your skin.

The red light finally changed and you muttered under your breath to yourself as you pushed your old Nissan into gear;

“C’mon, lets get home” you said to no-one except yourself.

The highway grew narrow as it entered the woods, just a single lane in each direction, tall cedar trees closing in on both sides. The rain wasn’t as heavy beneath the thick canopy above you, instead there were wisps of mist clinging to the roadway’s edge.

As you continued along you felt the first pang of pain in your stomach, a cramp that grew with intensity like an old lightbulb trying to illuminate but suddenly extinguishing.

“Oh fuck…” you cursed, resting your hand on your stomach as you rubbed to ease the ache. You drove on cautiously, ignoring the rattle that was emanating from the engine, your mind elsewhere. You had only finished your last period a little over a week ago so it wasn’t that. You could feel another cramp starting to build, your concentration far from the road. That was more than likely the reason you didn’t notice the pothole, the car shook and the suspension made a deafening thunk as you hit the flooded crater without pause. With a scream you pulled your full attention back to the road, ignoring the cramp pulling at your gut as you struggled to keep the car on the road, slowing gradually until you were able to pause. The sudden understanding hit your mind as the realisation of what was happening registered. You scrambled for your phone, opening the calendar and scrolling back to the cold winter months.

A cold chill ran down your back like icy fingers against your spine. Six months. Almost to the day. Six months since your last heat.

“Shit fuck FUCK” you shouted at the rain splattered windows. How could you have missed it? As another cramp hit your stomach you curled over and rested your head against the steering wheel, at which moment your phone chimed. Peering out of one eye you looked at the screen and the reminder that had just popped up;

*Heat starting soon!!!*

“Yes, THANK YOU. 24 hours too late”

As an unmated Omega you set yourself reminders for when your heat was due, coming every six months you generally made arrangements to work from home, and ensure you loaded your purse with suppressants and painkillers so to deal with the build up. It would seem this time however you hadn’t set the reminder early enough, as you had neither medication with you, but would also explain the hot sweats and the reason you’d woken up that morning tangled in the sheets after dreaming of faceless intimacy.

With a sigh you wiped the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, before peering out of the windshield at the dark and twisting road. Engaging first gear you set off but were immediately reminded that something terminal had happened when you’d hit the hole in the asphalt, your car now leaning on the kerbside. For a moment you considered calling for a tow truck, but then the rapidly failing rational side of your brain reminded you that the truck would likely be driven by a man, and the last thing you needed when you were about to come into heat was to risk being stuck with an Alpha you didn’t know. No, you needed to try and limp your car home, at least close enough to town that you could call your roommate to come help, she’d know exactly what to do. You made it a good couple of miles at a slow pace, the road straight and gently downhill, until a hairpin bend meant you had to sharply turn the wheel. Something loudly went ‘twang’ like a spring being violently recoiled. It was quickly followed by the sound of hissing air, and the car dropped even further on the kerbside. The tell-tale thud-thud-thud of a flat tyre could be heard as you freewheeled to the side of the road, before coming to a stop on the gravel side of the highway.

You took a deep breath and let out a scream, yelling at the windshield, before your stomach cramps hit back again. They were getting closer together and you knew you needed help. Checking your phone hopefully you were still disappointed when you saw that there was still no service, more than likely due to a combination of location and the bad weather. With a sigh you stared out of the windshield and you noticed a sign on a wall;

“The Sisters of St Augustus’ Refuge” you paused, the synapses in your brain firing and finally connecting; “A CONVENT! That’s just women!”

Climbing out of your car you grabbed your purse and cardigan, holding the latter over your head in a vain attempt to keep the worst of the rain off as you started to trot up the long driveway towards the building that loomed on the horizon. You failed to notice the other sign that lay on the ground, one put up by the real estate company handling the sale of the building but has since fallen.

The driveway was considerably longer than you anticipated, and by the time you were halfway your pace had slowed, your cramps now even worse. The large wooden doors of the convent came into view as you staggered closer, the rain and sweat mixing and running into your eyes, blurring your vision. You stumbled, your no longer white Converses catching on a pebble, righting yourself before you fell flat on your face. Another two steps and another pebble, you were falling when suddenly a pair of arms caught you, the dark robes fluttering in the storm as you blacked out.

Sy sat back in his chair, his boots resting on the large table as he picked at his nails with one long claw, being able to control the change to his advantage. Walter was pacing the room, pausing to glare at the clock on the wall before returning to pacing. Sy let out a small sigh, the entire pack was antsy, anxious and ready for the turn of the full moon, however this summer storm obscuring its silver rays was turning the pack into an angry mess. August had wisely disappeared into the depths of the building and Sy was thankful for that, he and Walter would always argue over the smallest thing. Sy also glanced at the clock, his stomach growling;

“Where is Mikey with that takeout?” he muttered to himself.

A sudden increase in background noise caused both Sy and Walter to pause and look up, their nostrils flaring. August entered the room from the door that led to the private quarters, just as the large double doors to the chapel opened. The two youngest members of the pack came bustling in, Will holding the doors open as Mikey staggered along, his long black duster raincoat still dripping with rain, a now soaked bag of takeout hanging from one hand, but what caught everyone’s attention was what else he was carrying; a young woman.

The room fell into an eerie silence as Mikey stood still, waiting to gauge the reaction from the rest of the pack;

“I…I found… she passed out on the doorstep…”

There was a pause before everyone sprang into life, the men helping Mikey carry the unconscious woman in, Walter lifting her and setting her down onto the makeshift workbench they’d commandeered when they’d moved into the old building.

Sy’s eyes widened before he cursed;

“Fuck…” he dragged his hand over his face before clearing his throat; “Aug, Walt, gotta talk. Will and Mike, make sure she’s ok”

August simply raised his left eyebrow before following, Walter trudging closely behind as Sy pushed the door partially closed behind them;

“Shit, this is the last thing we need, especially tonight…”

Walter nodded;

“I agree, whatever she’s doing here, we need to get her out of here before the storm passes”

August stood in the corner of the room, his silence eventually what drew the others attention;

“August, you’ve been uncharacteristically quiet on this” Sy questioned

“Maybe she’s not an Omega?” he simply shrugged; “Could just be lost or her car broken down”

“Then why is she unconscious and reek of heat scent?…” he paused… “And why…”

Sy fell silent, all three elder members of the pack’s attention rising to the tall stained glass windows, the pale light from the full moon spilling into the dark room as the clouds started to part. A simultaneous chorus of ‘fuck’ sounded around the room, before they started to change, the moonlight triggering the lupine curse within them.

They grew broader, their shoulders filling out their shirts. Jaws clenched as canine teeth elongated. The flick of fire in their eyes started to burn as the silvery rays of moonlight spread throughout the room. At first they didn’t notice the wisp of orangey vapour that curled through the small gap in the door, but as it moved around the room like a lost serpent August was the first to notice;

“What the hell is that?”

Sy and Walter followed his gaze before noticing more tendrils of the vapour, watching as it sparkled gold and copper in the moonlight. Sy gritted his teeth and pushed back the urge to fully transform, the skill he’d accomplished once he became the full Alpha leader of the pack;

“Stay here” he all but growled, stalking towards the mist and out into the hall, the sight before him stopping him in his tracks.

The young woman was awake, but was clinging to Will as she nuzzled against his neck. One of her hands curled through Mikey’s hair, pulling him to the other side of her neck. Wisps of orange vapour curled around them, seemingly emanating from her.

“BOYS!” Sy barked, both younger men trying to turn to the pack elder, but looked punch drunk.

“Uncle Sy…” Mikey muttered; “She’s… there’s something…”

Sy crossed the room lightning fast, pulling both younger men from her grasp before pushing them into a ray of moonlight as it spilt in through a side window, knowing that although the moon would turn them, it would also clear whatever was happening due to the vapour from their minds. August and Walter helped the two boys up, both elders now having almost completed their transformations, the younger turning as they stood. Sy gritted his teeth again and pushed back the urge to transform, knowing four, five full Were’s would destroy this young woman, and that someone needed to find out what the hell was happening;

“August, Walter, take Will and Mikey, go run, go hunt, anything, get all of you out of here”

The other’s paused, seemingly torn between the draw of the full moon and the pull of the young woman, but as Sy turned and growled, his eyes flashing golden they finally retreated.

Sy listened, his acute hearing picking up four sets of padded feet running across the gravel driveway and into the woods, before he turned to her;

“What the hell am i going to do with you?”

You sat on the hard surface, the blanket beneath you doing little to pad out the cold stone underneath as you watched the hulk of a man approach. You could immediately tell he was an Alpha, strong and virile, he was extremely broad with thick arms and thighs, he seemed to be 250lbs of solid muscle. Beneath the scowl on his face you could see stormy blue eyes that sometimes had a flash of gold in them, and hints of red in his thick beard. Your entire body was sweating, desperate for the touch of an Alpha. The two young Alpha’s you hadn’t been able to control yourself from scenting with had done a little to sate the heat hunger burning within you, but as this beast approached you your body burned for him.

Reaching for him your body immediately calmed the moment your hands grasped at his muscled forearms, breathing in his scent as he looked you over. When he spoke his voice was deep but soft;

“Miss, i gotta ask, but what are you?”

“Just an Omega… and i fucked up, my heat started…”

“Then why’d you come in here?”

“It said it was a convent… Nuns are women… i woulda been safe here…”

The man let out a long sigh;

“Oh honey… this wasn’t a convent of Nuns… it was a refuge for Moon Makers” he looked you up and down; “They shouldn’t have put ya on the altar…”

You were confused, you had heard the term Moon Maker before but it was so long ago you couldn’t recall exactly where. It was as if it had been a whisper you’d eavesdropped as a child, of something mothers and aunts had gossiped about with a sense of sordid envy.

Before you could dwell on that thought the storm outside blew wild, the crack of a tree could be heard and as it fell to the ground it let in a stream of moonlight right to where you lay. Bathed in the silver light the tendrils of orange mist started to swirl with vigour, and the Alpha before you let out a groan;

“Sugar, i gotta see the mark…”

He pushed you back as he stood between your legs, his large hands on your thighs as they crept beneath your short summer dress, pushing it up until your panties were visible and the fabric of your dress was bunched around your waist. His nostrils flared as he picked up your scent, the dark patch of wetness between your legs drawing him like a moth to the flame, but instead he hooked his thumb over the waistband of your underwear and tugged them down just a little until he saw your birthmark on your hip.

“The waning crescent…” he muttered

“What’s… huh? Moon Makers… Waning Crescent… I don’t understand” you were struggling to concentrate through the heat cramps, pulling the Alpha closer to you as you’d wrapped your legs around his thighs.

“Moon Makers are a special kind of Omega… the only one’s strong enough to bear the pups of a Were… the waning crescent is the shape of the birthmark they carry… shaped that way as if you breed on a full moon you’ll know if you’re carrying the pups by the time of the next waning crescent… It’s old lore, there hasn’t been a sighting of a Moon Maker for, well, almost twenty five years…”

You pulled him close, not even knowing this beast’s name, but were drawn to him. You hooked your nose beneath his chin, his soft beard rubbing against your face and you could feel him shake with restraint;

“You’re testing big Sy to the limits Sugar…”

“Sy…” you muttered, his name like a syrup on your tongue; “Sy… i’m still an Omega, and i need your help. This heat isn’t going away… i need you, as an Alpha”

Nodding, Sy cradled the back of your head. He knew what he needed to do. He just needed to get you through your heat, long enough to get you back to your home. He also had a secret, one that he’d brushed over many times when his brothers had joked about it, but an injury when he’d been in the army had meant he could no longer sire any pups with an Omega. It was something he and only he knew about, not even confessing this to Walter or August, and it had been safe in that knowledge that he’d been able to concentrate on leading the pack, without the distraction of offspring. Countless Omega’s had warmed his bed, but he’d insisted it was never the right time, not on a full moon, not the right point in their heat. Right now though, he needed to fight off his hind-brain, the part of him that wanted the Were to take over. He didn’t even consider things would be different with a Moon Maker.

He pressed his face to your neck, inhaling deeply against your scent gland, the soft dip in your clavicle, and let your scent wash over him. You were grinding against him, the slick in your panties dousing the front of his old combat pants, the thick cotton straining against his growing erection. His lips brushed against your neck as he spoke;

“Will you let me taste you? Get you ready with my tongue? Sugar… Omega, you want me to eat that pussy?”

“Sy… Alpha, please… I need it. I need you”

You were desperate; desperate for relief, desperate for pleasure. You watched as his massive hands curled around your panties as he gripped the thin cotton before with a low growl he tore the thin fabric to shreds. Licking his lips he fell to his knees between your legs, his face between your thighs as his tongue found heaven. That long thick tongue dove through your folds, lapping at your slick as he eagerly tasted your essence. Your hands fell to his head, the short buzz cut soft beneath your fingertips, but without anything to grip onto you felt lost, unable to anchor yourself. As if sensing your need Sy lifted one hand to yours, curling his fingers between your own as his piercing blue eyes never left yours, all whilst his tongue delved deep into your velvet channel. The more you cried out and wriggled the quicker he fucked you with his tongue, bringing you closer and closer to pleasure before with a final wide swipe of his tongue you came with a scream, calling out to the stars above as white hot pleasure coursed through your body and lifted your soul. Sy eagerly drank down your slick as it gushed from your channel, growling at the taste on his tongue before you finally fell back limp on the altar.

He pressed a kiss to each of your inner thighs before he moved to stand, and you watched as he pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it aside, before unbuckling his pants and let them drop to the floor. Toeing off his boots he was standing naked before you, his cock hard and rigid, thick and uncut, the knot at the base already starting to swell. You had been with an Alpha before but never one as big as Sy was, he was almost grotesquely huge, his girth as eye watering as the length. It was an angry red, his skin flushed and he was already dripping with need;

“Omega, I need you as much as you need me, you gonna let me fill that pussy?”

You nodded, and as Sy stepped forwards you saw there was hesitation in his step;

“Sy… what is it?”

“You ever been with a Were Alpha before?”

“A Were?” you shook your head; “But i want to. I need you Sy…”

“Not sure how much longer i can hold back the change, gonna have to be quick”

“I don’t want it to be quick, i want you… all of you”

What you were agreeing to was unheard of usually, very few had ever been with a full Were, let alone a Were Alpha, you knew the pheromones could drive an Omega crazy; “Do what you need to do Alpha”

With a growl Sy pushed you back, his body covering your own as his hands grasped your wrists;

“Hold still Sugar… need to tie you down so you don’t go flying off the altar”

“Altar?! Tie me down?!”

Sy paused, his face inches from your own;

“Say so now and i’ll stop, otherwise you’ll get as you asked and i will ‘do as i need’”

Swallowing nervously you nodded, wide eyed as you watched him pull ceremonial silk ropes from two corners of the altar beneath the blanket, tying your wrists in place. You could see his fight against the change was already starting to wane, his eyes burning like fire as his elongated fingers ran down your torso before grasping at your hips. He knelt between your parted thighs, pulling you up his thighs until his tip was poised at your entrance, dousing the bulbous head with your copious slick. With a growl he pushed forwards, stretching your tight walls as he slowly filled you. The pressure in your belly was intense, a white hot heat surging through your body as your mouth fell open in a silent scream. With your back arched you struggled to let your body adjust to his size, but then you felt the rough brush of the blunt tip of a claw circle your clit, carefully teasing the sensitive pearl from beneath its hood. As the moonlight poured down over your joined bodies you felt Sy start to change, of the Were taking over.

You moved your hips, realising you were now completely stuffed with his thick cock and eager for more, opening your eyes you let out a gasp, he had changed fully. Covered in a thick layer of auburn brown fur, his body was that of a Greek mythical beast. Though his features had changed, you could still see the same eyes that had burned for you just moments before. Shoulders as wide as the altar you were being defiled upon, which continued into enormous arms, thick with muscle as massive hands gripped at your hips as he started to thrust into you. You could both watch as he filled you before pulling out and repeating, his angry red shaft glistening in the moonlight with your slick before he’d plunge deep into you again and again. Each thrust stretched you so well you knew you’d be ruined for any other man, Alpha or not.

The pleasure coursed through your body, coming with a sudden force but the Were between your thighs just fucked you straight through it, now Moon drunk and high on the literal cloud of your scent surrounding the pair of you as you were carnally joined. With his biceps and forearms bulging the beast pulled you onto his thickening shaft repeatedly, his body arched as you were stretched on your tethers, legs bent at his thighs as you felt another orgasm chasing after the last. As your body squeezed him tight he let out a mighty roar, howling at the moon as you all but pushed yourself further onto him, your fragile body a plaything for his pleasure. Through the haze of lust and sin you felt the pad of his thumb move from your hip to brush over your birthmark, your gaze immediately drawn to his fiery eyes and you realised what would happen;

“Alpha, give me your knot, i’m ready”

With a growl the Were fucked into your plyable body harder and harder, pulling you to one final orgasm, and as that crested you felt the push and plug as he filled you, his seed pumping into you as his knot plugged you tight. Your scream echoed around the ancient chapel, and the world turned black.

A loud knocking at the door pulled Tina from her bed, glaring at the apartment as she strode through it, ready to give whoever dared disturb her at this ungodly hour of the morning a piece of her mind, but as she violently opened the door she was stopped in her tracks. In the morning light a hulk of a man stood on the doormat with you - her roommate - sleeping peacefully in his arms;

“Hey… I got her address from her driving licence”

Tina immediately scooped you into her arms, carrying you to the couch;

“Where has she been? Who are you?”

“Syverson… Her car broke down outside our place in the hills. She stayed out the storm with us but was up all night, she’s completely exhausted now”

Tina checked over your pulse and it was calm and steady, pulling at your eyelids which caused you to grumble and bat away her hands before you went back to snoring on the soft couch. Turning back to the giant Alpha currently standing in your doorway she held out her hand, to which Sy gently took it, surprised at how firm her handshake was;

“One of my brothers will bring her car back in the next couple of days if that’s alright? Got a lot on for the next two days”

“Yeah, that’s fine, but if i can take your number so i can check in, i know she drives a heap of crap but it’s still hers”

“Absolutely”

Tina watched as the enormous mountain of man carefully bent down and in neat cursive writing wrote his name and number onto the small notepad on the hallway console table, before ripping it off and handing it to her.

“I’ll… i’ll be going now”

Tina narrowed her gaze;

“You… you didn’t do anything to her, did you?”

Sy turned and met Tina’s glare;

“She spent the night” he turned and paused; “You might want to check her calendar, mentioned her heat is due soon” he let out a sigh before turning back to the doorstep; “Anyway, gotta go, the moon waits for no man…”

Tina watched him go, toying with the piece of paper as his truck pulled away, before she stashed it in her wallet.

A couple of weeks later you were irritable and snapping at anyone that crossed your path. The only thing that had gone right was your car had been returned to your apartment three days after your night in the hills, the suspension fixed, the engine running beautifully. It was like it’d had a complete overhaul by an entire team of mechanics. You weren’t going to question it as it was the one stable thing now in your life. The young guy that had dropped it off had practically thrown your keys into your hands, before sprinting off and climbing into a truck driven by someone that looked so similar he could have been a brother. You vaguely recognised them, but your only clear lingering memory of your time in the hills was Sy. You weren’t even sure how to even find him again, having taken drives through the forest a number of times but never able to find that same route again.

That night you were hungry, pulling a pint of your favourite ice cream from the deep freeze. You stepped outside into the warm summer night to eat it on the pallet wood seating Tina had built on the porch outside your apartment, watching the fireflies float into the air. After a while she joined you, a beer in her hand as she sat down silently. She was your best friend and had helped you through so much, but she’d been very quiet for the past couple of weeks, almost avoiding you.

“Hey Tiny” you used her nickname, one she’d very much grown out of after 5th grade when she’d grown a foot taller than you in the space of the summer break; “Everything ok?”

“Yeah yeah, i’m good… how are you doing? You’ve been… different recently”

You stabbed at the ice cream before setting it aside;

“Haven’t felt that great to be honest. Not sure what’s up, thought my heat was coming a few weeks ago but it seemed to end abruptly after i got back from…”

“Gotcha”

Tina looked up at the sky and you followed her gaze, seeing the thin crescent of the moon;

“Looks kinda like your birthmark, the waning moon…”

She didn’t finish what she was saying as you’d suddenly bolted to the bathroom, your retching clearly audible. With a sigh she rested her elbows on her knees… fuck, what the hell had you gotten yourself into? She’d been able to tell that Syverson was a Were the second she’d opened the door, counting the days back on her fingers she finally realised that you’d been with him the first night of the full moon, when its at its most powerful, and how your heat hadn’t appeared, yet she’d been able to pick up your bonding scent as you’d slept on the couch.

“What have you gotten yourself into?” she muttered to herself, the piece of paper in her wallet almost burning a hole in her pocket. She had sworn to your mother that she’d protect you, that she wouldn’t let you continue the Were bloodlines… but she’d failed. Now she had a decision to make… but first she’d go help you throw up, no doubt there would be another eight months of it to follow, the child within you already growing.

Pulling the paper out she held it between her fingertips as she stood, heading towards the bathroom where you were, you had a phone call make.

#syverson x you #captain sy x reader #werewolf sy #alpha sy #henry cavill #henry cavill smut #captain syverson smut #Alpha sy x omega reader

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