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thewulf · 28 days

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Sunflowers and Second Chances || Darrel "Darry" Curtis

Summary: Request - Can you do a Darry x Winston sister reader? Maybe she's Dallas's twin or like a year younger and he's just super protective over her. I was thinking maybe the two of them show up for a bonfire at the park with some greasers and reader forgets her jacket. She's shivering by the fire and Darry (ever the gentleman) gives her his jacket.... Read Rest Here

A/N: Def went overboard but mannnn do i LOVE writing for The Outsiders. This will NEVERR be a dead fandom for as long as I am alive hahaha. please keep sending these my way! I'd love to try a Sodapop or even Ponyboy :) Enjoy!

Pairing: Darrel "Darry" Curtis x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.5k +

TW: General The Outsiders

It wasn’t that cold when you and Dallas left your shared apartment for the evening. After nagging and bothering you for what felt like hours Dallas had finally won, he was getting you to go to the annual start of summer bonfire. A tried-and-true greaser tradition. It wasn’t really your scene, most of the time. But at the mention that Darrel Curtis was going to be there you’d changed your tune rather quickly. Dallas knew of your little crush on the eldest Curtis brother. Because of course he did. He wasn’t dumb. Quite the opposite really. He caught your longing glances for Darry pretty early on. Your cute crush only got slightly concerning for Dally when he started noticing Darry throwing the same looks your way.

Dallas might’ve used Darry as the excuse to get you out of the house. See, Dallas had never taken school seriously, but you always have. He was worried you were spending far too much of your limited time studying or doing homework instead of being an actual teenager.

As you and Dallas strolled through the dimly lit streets toward the outskirts of town where the bonfire was blazing, you couldn't shake the feeling of nervous excitement that ripped through your body. Dallas, your favorite charismatic troublemaker, seemed to sense your nerves and threw an arm around your shoulder, giving you a rough but reassuring squeeze.

"So, kid sister, what's got you all wound up tonight, huh?" Dallas smirked. His eyes gleaming mischievously in the faint glow of the streetlights.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Nothing, just looking forward to hanging out with the guys, I guess. Haven’t seen them in a while is all."

Dallas shot you a knowing look, his eyebrows raised in amusement. "Uh-huh, the guys sure thing. Are you sure it’s not one guy? Don't think I haven't noticed those puppy-dog eyes you've been throwing at Darry lately." He had a habit of calling you out on your bullshit, even if it made you uncomfortable.

Your cheeks flushed at that comment. You stuttered in protest, but Dallas just laughed, his voice rumbling with amusement. "Relax, kid, ain't no crime in having a crush. But who knows, maybe tonight's the night you finally make a move." He winked knowing that was a load of crap. You’d never make a move on Darry, wouldn’t even dream of it. In his eyes you were Dallas’ baby sister. He could never see you like that.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn't deny the flutter of excitement that bubbled in your chest at the mere thought of it. Darrel Curtis was everything you found attractive in a man - strong, dependable, and with a heart of gold hidden beneath his tough exterior. The idea that he might feel even a fraction of what you felt for him sent your pulse racing. But you knew better, knew better than to get your hopes up.

The two of you approached the bonfire, the familiar sight of your friends greeted you. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and the sound of laughter, with the occasional burst of music from someone's battered radio. It felt like home. You and Dallas had finally found it after years of moving and running.

Dallas led you through the throngs of people, his boisterous laughter mingling with the chatter of the others. Until you finally caught sight of Darry standing by himself next to the fire. His gaze was fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart skip a few beats. You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling acutely aware of every movement, every breath. Dallas nudged you playfully with his elbow, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he gave you a not-so-subtle wink before sauntering off to join the other greasers.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you squared your shoulders and made your way over to where Darry stood, his eyes never leaving yours. And as you drew closer, the crackle of the fire seemed to fade away, leaving only the pounding of your heart echoing in your ears, “Hi.” You smiled up at him once you got within ear shot.

He smiled right back at you. His annoyed face melted away once you got close. “Didn’t think we’d see you tonight. What a treat.” He smirked loving the little game the two of you shared when it was just the two of you. He wasn’t sure when it happened, but he had developed a not so innocent crush on you. Dallas Winston’s little sister. Probably the worst girl to have a crush on. But how could he not? You stepped up and helped him in ways he could’ve never imagined after his parents passed. You pulled Pony and Soda along right with you instead of letting them drown in grief. You were an angel. His angel.

Despite the lively atmosphere, you couldn’t shake off the chill that seeped into your bones. You cursed yourself for forgetting your jacket, but with the comforting heat of the fire so close, you hadn't noticed the cold until now. Darry glanced down at you once you were standing next to him, sensing your discomfort. "Are ya’ cold, Y/N?"

You nodded, teeth chattering slightly. "Yeah, just a bit."

Without a word, Darry shrugged off the leather jacket he had on. "Here," he said, draping it over your shoulders. "You shouldn't be freezing out here." While it fit him it was about three sizes too large for you. Not that you minded.

You blinked in surprise as Darry's jacket enveloped you, radiating warmth and carrying his distinct scent. Grateful, you offered him a small smile. "Thanks, Darry."

He nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Anytime, Y/N. Don't want you catching a cold."

As the night wore on, you huddled closer to the fire, Darry's jacket shielding you from the biting cold. Despite the flames eventually dying down and the group dispersing, the memory of Darry's protective gesture lingered, a comforting presence in the darkness of the night.

In the dim light, you caught Darry's eye and offered him a silent expression of gratitude. He returned it with a nod, silently promising to always look out for you. Feeling a warmth not just from the jacket but also from his concern, you find yourself drawn to him. "Thanks again, Darry. Dallas rushed me out of the apartment. You know I’m not usually so forgetful." you say softly, your voice carrying a hint of flirtation you can't quite suppress.

Darry's lips quirk up in a half-smile, his eyes holding a glint of amusement. "No problem, Y/N," he replies, his voice low and gravelly. "I’m sure it’s not easy being Dally’s sister."

You chuckle at his teasing tone, enjoying the banter that flowed so effortless between the two of you. "You could say that again. Guess I owe you one though," you say playfully, nudging him with your elbow.

Darry's smile widens, and he leans in a little closer, the warmth of his presence sending a shiver down your spine for an entirely different reason. "Oh, I'll be sure to collect on that debt," he murmurs, his gaze intense yet tender.

Your heart nearly stops at his words, and you find yourself blushing despite the chill in the air. Maybe forgetting your jacket wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Just as you're about to respond to Darry's playful banter, a familiar voice interrupted you from behind. "Well, well, what do we have here? Little sis all blushy-cheeked and heart eyes on our very own Darrel Curtis?" Dallas's voice carries a teasing edge, his smirk evident even in the dim light. He knew how much you not so secretly liked the oldest Curtis brother. You may not have said anything to him, but it was evident in the way you looked at him. Dallas knew eyes couldn’t hide much. That’s how he also knew the oldest Curtis brother felt the same about you. So, he did what any older brother would do, tease the shit out of the both of you.

You turn to see Dallas walking over, his usual cocky demeanor in full force. But something about the way he looks at you, a mixture of amusement and something else you can't quite place, makes you more nervous than ever. Darry stiffens slightly beside you, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. His jaw clenches, and you notice a subtle tension in his shoulders.

"Easy there, Darry," Dallas continues, his grin widening. "I'm just messing with my kid sister. No need to get all uptight Curtis." He had a full-on grin now not realizing the damage he was causing between the blooming relationship that had yet to begin.

You shoot Dallas a playful glare, hoping to diffuse the situation. "Ignore him, Darry. He's just being annoying, as usual." You turned back to the man standing beside you, closer than you remember from just moments ago.

But Darry's gaze remains fixed on Dallas, a silent warning in his eyes. "Nothing’s happened Dallas.” The joyful tone in his voice from moments ago had vanished sending you into a minor panic as the two most important men in your life stood there staring at each other.

Dallas raises his hands in mock surrender, his smirk faltering ever so slightly. "Alright, alright, no need to get all serious," he says, taking a step back. "I'll leave you two alone. Doing whatever you were doing.”

As Dallas walks away, you feel a pang of disappointment wash over you knowing that something was suddenly amiss. You glance at Darry, hoping to see his usual warmth and playfulness, but instead, you find him distant, his gaze fixed on the ground. He was thinking and thinking hard at that.

"Hey, everything okay?" you ask, reaching out to touch his arm.

When he pulled away from you sharply you tried to hide the disappointment evident in your gaze on him. Darry looks up, his expression guarded. "I’m sorry. I just... I can't do this. Not with Dallas being your brother," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart sank as Darry's words hit you like a punch to the gut. You had hoped that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something more between the two of you. But now, faced with his rejection, you felt a wave of embarrassment and hurt wash over you. You tried to hide the sting of tears threatening to spill from your eyes, forcing a weak smile as you withdrew his jacket from your shoulders. "I understand," you replied softly, trying to keep your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. "It's okay, Darry. I-I didn't mean to make things awkward." You handed him the too big leather jacket back. You didn’t miss the disappointed look in his eyes as he took it back from you.

But before Darry could respond, you turned on your heel and began to walk away, the weight of his rejection heavy on your shoulders. You could feel the eyes of the other greasers on you as you made your way through the crowd, their whispers echoing in your ears like a cruel reminder of your own vulnerability. You were halfway down the street when you felt a hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. Startled, you turned to find Dallas standing there, his expression unusually serious. "Y/N, wait," he said, his voice soft yet urgent. "What happened back there?"

You tried to brush off his concern, plastering on a fake smile. "It's nothing, Dallas. Just a misunderstanding, that's all."

But Dallas wasn't buying it, his gaze piercing through your facade. "Bullshit," he said bluntly. "I saw the way Darry was looking at you. And I saw the way you looked at him." He grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

You felt the tears welling up in your eyes once again, unable to hold them back any longer. The floodgates opened, and all the pent-up emotions came pouring out, overwhelming you with their intensity. Dallas's grip on your arm softened, his expression shifting from skepticism to concern as he watched the tears stream down your cheeks.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" he asked gently, his voice laced with worry. “What happened?"

You took a shaky breath, trying to compose yourself enough to speak. "It's Darry," you confessed, your voice trembling with emotion. "He doesn’t want me because... because he's worried about what you'll think or something."

Dallas's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his grip on your arm tightening ever so slightly. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

You swallowed hard, mustering the courage to explain. "I don’t know. It was fine then it wasn’t," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "You were teasing us, and he... he thinks you don't approve. I don’t know Dallas he didn’t give me a reason. Just said he couldn’t do it."

Dallas's eyes widened in realization, a mixture of guilt and frustration flashing across his features. "Shit," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair in agitation. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I was just messing around, you know?"

You nodded, feeling a pang of sympathy for Dallas's distress. "I know, Dallas," you said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. "But sometimes things don't turn out the way we expect them to."

Dallas's shoulders sagged as he let out a heavy sigh, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by an air of vulnerability. "I'm sorry, Y/N," he said sincerely, his voice thick with remorse. "I never meant to hurt you or Darry. You know that, right?"

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat as you fought to hold back the tears threatening to keep spilling from your eyes. "I know, Dal," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion.

Without hesitation, Dallas pulled you into a comforting brotherly hug, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. You felt a sense of warmth and security wash over you, knowing that no matter what happened, you had Dallas by your side, always ready to support you through thick and thin.As you leaned into his embrace, Dallas's protective instincts kicked in, his mind buzzing with thoughts of how to fix the situation. But before he could voice his intentions, you pulled away slightly, a pleading look in your eyes.

"Dallas, please," you said softly, your voice tinged with embarrassment. "Don't do anything rash. I don't want things to get any more complicated than they already are."

Dallas's expression softened as he registered your plea, his gaze filled with concern. "I just can't stand the thought of Darry hurting you like this," he admitted, his voice laced with frustration. "He's being so damn thick-headed, and it makes me want to sock him one right in the jaw."

You shook your head, a firmness in your voice. "No, Dallas, no fighting with your brothers," you insisted, your tone leaving no room for argument. "We'll figure this out without anyone throwing punches. Let's just leave it be for now, okay? I don't want anything to happen when everyone is emotional."

Dallas hesitated, his jaw tense with the effort of restraining himself. But as he looked into your eyes, seeing the conviction in them, he relented. "Alright, Y/N," he conceded, his voice quieter now, but still edged with frustration. "We'll do it your way. But I swear, if he keeps hurting you, I won't be able to hold back."

You gave him a grateful smile, appreciating his loyalty but relieved that he agreed to your terms. "Thank you, Dallas," you said, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "For respecting my wishes."

Dallas nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Always, kid," he replied, his voice softening with affection. "Now, let's go inside and take a breather. We'll figure out our next move when we're all thinking straight."

As you followed Dallas into the apartment, a sense of relief washed over you, grateful for his support and understanding. Exhaustion weighed heavily on your shoulders, and you couldn't fight the urge to collapse onto the couch, the events of the evening catching up with you all at once.

Dallas lingered nearby for a moment, watching over you with a protective gaze. He hesitated, torn between staying by your side and his burning desire to confront Darry. Eventually, with a heavy sigh, he made his decision.

Quietly, Dallas slipped out of the apartment once you were fast asleep on the couch, leaving you to rest, and made his way towards the Curtis house. Determination fueled his steps as he navigated the dimly lit streets, his mind focused on one goal: to talk some sense into Darry.

When he finally reached the Curtis house, he didn't bother with niceties. Instead, he pounded on the door with a forceful urgency, his knuckles rapping against the wood in a demanding rhythm. Soda was the one to answer the door, his expression shifting from surprise to concern as he took in Dallas's agitated demeanor. "Dallas? What's going on, man?"

But Dallas didn't waste any time with explanations. Without a word, he brushed past Soda, his eyes scanning the living room in search of Darry. He didn't care about being polite or waiting for an invitation. All he cared about was finding the one who made his sister cry. Soda called after him, his voice tinged with confusion and concern, but Dallas paid him no mind. His focus was singular, his determination unwavering as he sought out Darry, ready to have a long-overdue conversation that would hopefully set things right.

Dallas's footsteps echoed loudly as he made his way towards the backyard, his heart pounding with a mixture of anger and concern. He found Darry leaning against the wall, a cigarette dangling from his lips, while Ponyboy sat nearby, a troubled expression on his face. Without preamble, Dallas stormed over to Darry, his eyes blazing with intensity. "What the hell is wrong with you, Darry?" he demanded, his voice thick with emotion. "You made my sister cry, and for what? Because you're too damn stubborn to see what's right in front of you?"

Darry looked up, startled by Dallas's sudden outburst. "Dallas, what are you talking about?" he asked, confusion evident in his tone.

Ponyboy, sensing the tension in the air, glanced nervously between his older brother and what felt like his second one. "Guys, what's going on?" he asked tentatively, his brow furrowing with concern.

"What's going on is that Darry's being a complete idiot," Dallas snapped, his frustration boiling over. "He's too blind to see that Y/N cares about him, and he's pushing her away because of it."

Darry's expression softened, his defenses crumbling under Dallas's relentless barrage. "Dallas, it's not that simple," he protested weakly, but Dallas wasn't having any of it.

"Not that simple?" Dallas echoed incredulously, his voice rising with every word. "You think you're doing her a favor by pushing her away? You're just hurting her, Darry. And you're too damn stubborn to see it."

Ponyboy watched the exchange in silence, his eyes darting between the two brothers with a mixture of concern and apprehension. He knew better than to intervene when Dallas was in one of his moods. Finally, Darry let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I didn't mean to hurt her, Dallas," he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with regret. "I just... I don't know how to do this. I'm not good at this stuff."

Soda, who had been observing from the doorway, stepped forward with a smirk playing on his lips. "You got that right, Darry," he interjected, his tone teasing. "You're allergic to pretty girls."

Ponyboy couldn't help but chuckle at Soda's remark, a small smile breaking through the tension that hung in the air. Darry sighed, shaking his head at Soda's comment, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Thanks for the reminder, Soda," he said wryly, his voice tinged with self-deprecation. "But I guess I'll just have to figure it out."

Dallas leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk playing on his lips as he listened to Ponyboy's words. "Yeah, she's got a heart of literal gold, man," he chimed in, nodding in agreement. "I've seen it. She's too kind for this world sometimes."

Ponyboy nodded fervently, his eyes reflecting admiration. "Absolutely. Remember that time when she stood up for Johnny when those guys were picking on him? She didn't even hesitate. Just marched right over there and gave them a piece of her mind."

Soda grinned, his eyes sparkling with fondness. "And she's always nice to everyone, even those stuck-up Socs who don't deserve it," he added, his voice full of admiration.

Darry sighed, running a hand through his hair. He couldn't help but smile at his brothers' words, despite himself. "Yeah, she's something else, that's for sure," he mused, a hint of pride creeping into his tone. "But sometimes, I worry she's too good for her own good."

The room fell into a thoughtful silence for a moment before Soda broke it with a chuckle. "Well, Darry, you might just have to deal with it," he teased, nudging his brother playfully. "After all, love's got its own way of figuring things out."

Darry rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress the small smile that tugged at his lips. "Yeah, you're right Soda," he conceded, his gaze drifting off into the distance as he thought about you. "I just hope I can keep up."

The brothers shared a knowing look, a silent understanding passing between them as they contemplated the impact you had made on their lives. Dallas leaned forward, his expression turning serious. "You know, Darry, you gotta give yourself some credit too," he said, his voice carrying a rare sincerity. "She sees something in you, man. She wouldn't stick around if she didn't believe in you."

Darry shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I know, Dallas, but... I've messed up so many times," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "I've let her down more times than I can count."

Ponyboy reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Darry's shoulder. "Hey, we all make mistakes," he said softly, his eyes filled with empathy. "But what matters is how you learn from them."

Soda nodded in agreement, his expression serious. "You gotta show her, Darry," he chimed in, his voice firm. "You gotta show her that you're willing to do whatever it takes to make things right."

Darry sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "I know, I know," he muttered, his voice heavy with guilt. "I just... I don't know if I'm capable of being the person she deserves."

Dallas shook his head, his eyes locking with Darry's. "You are, man," he insisted, his tone unwavering. "But you gotta start believing it yourself. You gotta start believing that you're worthy of her love."

The room fell into a contemplative silence as Darry let Dallas' words sink in. And as he sat there, surrounded by his brothers, he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope stirring deep within him. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to make things right with you. Maybe there was still a chance for them after all.

Dallas let out a gruff laugh, a hint of his usual tough demeanor creeping back into his expression. "Alright, enough of this mushy crap," he declared, straightening up and running a hand through his hair. "I swear to God, if this gets back to her or you say some soft shit, I'll kick all your asses."

Ponyboy chuckled nervously, shooting a glance at Soda and Darry. "Got it, Dallas," he replied, trying to suppress a grin.

Soda raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, no worries, man," he said with a smirk. "Our lips are sealed."

Darry nodded in agreement, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Thanks, Dallas," he said sincerely, his eyes reflecting gratitude.

Dallas gave them all a nod before pushing himself off the wall. "Alright, I’m out out of here before I start feeling like I need to hug it out or something," he quipped, striding towards the door with his usual gate. He hoped you had stayed sleeping on the couch as he made his way back to your shared apartment.

The next day, Darry found himself restless, pacing back and forth in his room as he wrestled with his overwhelming sense of guilt. Every step he took felt heavy, burdened by the weight of regret that had settled like a stone in his chest. He knew he had hurt you deeply, and the thought churned his stomach with unease. Despite his usual stoic demeanor, Darry couldn't shake off the nervous fluttering in his chest as he clutched the bouquet of flowers tightly in his hand.

Darry found himself seized by a sudden determination to make things right with you. He knew that a simple apology wouldn't be enough – he needed to show her just how much she meant to him. And that's when he remembered the little details about her that he cherished.

With a sense of purpose driving him forward, Darry made his way to a nearby flower shop. The bustling streets seemed to blur around him as he searched for the perfect bouquet, his mind focused solely on one thing: your beautiful smile that brightened his day. He rifled through the colorful array of blooms, his heart racing with anticipation as he sought out the flowers that would convey his heartfelt apology and adoration.

And then, amidst the vibrant sea of petals, he found them – sunflowers. They stood tall and proud, their golden faces turned towards the sun, just like Y/N's radiant spirit. Darry's heart swelled with certainty as he reached out to carefully select the most beautiful blooms, knowing that they would bring a ray of sunshine to your day.

But as he stood at the checkout counter, a sudden doubt crept into his mind. How did he know that sunflowers were her favorite? Had she ever mentioned it to him before, in passing? Or was it just a gut feeling, a subconscious knowledge born from the countless hours they had spent together? For a moment, Darry hesitated, his brow furrowing in uncertainty. But then he remembered the way your eyes had lit up the last time you had passed a house that was growing them, how you had exclaimed with delight at the sight. And in that moment, he knew – sunflowers were your favorite, and he was determined to make sure you knew just how much you meant to him.

As he made his way to your apartment, each footfall echoed with the rhythm of his racing heart. The short journey felt like an eternity, his mind filled with worry and doubt. What if you were still upset with him? What if you didn't want to see him? The uncertainty gnawed at him, threatening to consume him with fear. He couldn't bear the thought of facing your disappointment, knowing that he was the cause of your pain.

With trembling hands, Darry finally reached your doorstep. He took a moment to steady his nerves, drawing in a deep breath to calm the storm of emotions raging inside him. But no amount of preparation could ease the knot of anxiety tightening in his chest as he raised his hand to knock on the door. Each rap of his knuckles felt like a thunderclap, reverberating through the silence of the neighborhood, and echoing the tumultuous turmoil in his own heart.

For a fleeting moment, Darry hesitated, his hand hovering uncertainly in the air. He couldn't help but worry that you would be furious with him, that you would turn him away without a second thought. The thought made his pulse quicken with apprehension, his palms growing slick with sweat as he grappled with his fear of rejection. But deep down, he knew he couldn't let his fear hold him back. He had to face you, to confront the consequences of his actions and make amends for the pain he had caused. With a silent prayer on his lips, Darry squared his shoulders and knocked once more, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead.

As the door swung open, revealing your surprised expression, Darry felt his heart almost stop. He could see the shock flicker across your features as you took in the sight of him standing there, a bouquet of sunflowers clutched tightly in his hand. But then, to his relief, your expression softened, your eyes lighting up with warmth and affection.

"Darry?" Your voice was soft, filled with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "What are you doing here?"

Darry swallowed hard. His throat suddenly dry. He extended the bouquet towards her, his hand trembling ever so slightly. "For you," he managed to choke out, his voice barely above a whisper.

A smile spread across your face, brightening his mood with its warmth. "These are my favorite! How did you know?" you exclaimed, your eyes sparkling with delight as you reached out to accept the flowers. You pushed the door open letting him in as your searched for a vase for your sunflowers.

Darry felt a weightlifting off his shoulders at your reaction, a sense of relief flooding through him. Maybe he hadn't completely messed things up after all. "Just a lucky guess," he replied with a shy grin, though deep down, he knew it was more than just luck. He had been paying attention, learning the little things that made you happy, and he was determined to make it up to her.

Darry watched as your smile grew wider, and he couldn't help but feel a rush of happiness seeing you so pleased with the flowers. "I'm glad you like them," he said, his voice soft with sincerity.

You wrapped your arms around him in a spontaneous hug, and Darry felt his heart swell with warmth at the gesture. "Thank you, Darry," you whispered, your voice filled with genuine gratitude.

The embrace felt like a balm to Darry's soul, soothing the lingering doubts and fears that had plagued him since last night. But as he held you close, he knew there was still something he needed to address, something he couldn't ignore any longer.

"I need to apologize, Y/N," Darry began, his voice tinged with regret. "I was a jerk last night at the bonfire. I shouldn't have dismissed you like that."

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a furrowed brow. "Darry, it's okay," you reassured him, though there was a hint of hurt in your eyes.

But Darry shook his head, his gaze earnest. "No, it's not okay," he insisted, his voice firm. "You deserved better than that, and I'm sorry for treating you like you didn't matter."

Your expression softened as you listened to Darry's heartfelt apology, and a sense of understanding washed over you. "I forgive you, Darry," you replied, reaching out to gently caress his cheek. "I know you didn't mean to hurt me."

Darry felt a wave of relief wash over him at your forgiveness, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to make it up to you somehow, to show you just how much you meant to him. As he looked into your eyes, he could see the depth of your care and affection reflected back at him, and it filled him with a sense of gratitude. He realized in that moment just how lucky he was to have you in his life.

A mischievous glint sparked in Darry's eyes as he felt a surge of confidence coursing through him. "You know, since we're both feeling so forgiving and all," he began, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, "how about I make it up to you by taking you on a proper date?"

Your eyes widened in surprise at his suggestion, a smile spreading across your face. "A date?" you echoed, a hint of excitement in your voice.

Darry nodded, his grin widening. "Yeah, a date," he confirmed, his tone filled with determination. "How about we go to that fancy restaurant downtown? The one with the candlelit tables and that amazing carbonara dish you love. I know it's your favorite."

A delighted laugh bubbled up from your lips at his suggestion, and Darry felt a surge of pride knowing that he had guessed right. "You remembered," you said, your voice filled with warmth.

Darry shrugged nonchalantly, though his heart swelled with satisfaction at your reaction. "Of course, I remembered," he replied with a wink, his flirtatious side coming out to play. "I pay attention to the important stuff. You're the important stuff."

And as you laughed and agreed to the date, Darry couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement building within him. Maybe this was the start of something new, something wonderful – a chance to show you just how much you meant to him, and to make up for his past mistakes with little moments like these.

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midnight-moth · 1 year

Text

Mushy May Day 10: Staring in Adoration & Mutually Pining

Fandom: Ghost

Pairing: Ifrit/Dewdrop

Rating: General

Words: 1120

Mushy May orchestrated by @forlorn-crows

Read here or here:

Ifrit should’ve known from that moment, when Dew climbed into his lap, that he was now wrapped around his scaly finned tail. He found himself being led by an invisible tether, following the water ghoul everywhere he went.

His intention was subtlety. But judging from the amount of times he saw Dew’s head turn a fraction, one icey blue eye peeking out between a break in his sheet of silver hair, he knew. Dew absolutely knew that Ifrit was watching him. Staring at him.

Ifrit felt like practice was fair game, only looking out for the health of Dew’s hands of course, trailing him out of the room to massage the ache out of his bones and tendons.

He would be looking up from underneath his dark brows at Dew’s face. Dew usually kept his eyes shut. But every now and again Ifrit saw a fraction of colour, the aperture of Dew’s pupil flaring as it met Ifrit’s own, splashed with the colour of autumn leaves.

He’d even asked Mountain for one of his botanical oils.

Medical properties or no, he wanted it to smell nice. He’d spend the rest of the evening inhaling the scent of lavender embedded in his skin, wondering what Dew was doing, where he was, who he was with.

Ifrit told himself he was just looking out for their most recent summon, that he was obviously having trouble adjusting, that he needed help navigating this new world. But all who knew him saw that Ifrit was absolutely enamored with Dew. That his line of sight was always directed at Dewdrop.

“Dude, you’re drooling.”

Ifrit snapped his head forward, swiping at his mouth. “Am not.” He tried to ignore Aether’s obnoxious snickering.

“Well, could’ve fooled me, the way you’re sitting there with your mouth hanging open, staring at him. Or are you trying to catch flies?”

“No - uh - I’m not staring - I was just zoning out.”

“No, you were zoning in, on Dewdrop’s face. Although I’ve gotta say, that’s more polite than when you stare at his ass, or his co-.”

Aether had never seen the fire ghoul blush before. “Do not finish that sentence. And as if you all haven’t been waiting to devour him like a pack of wild dogs.”

“Maybe so. But you’ve got it bad. Maybe you should say so before he files a restraining order.” Aether stood, taking his plates to the busing station against the wall. He waved his goodbye, and then moved on to making a lewd gesture whilst pointing in Dew’s direction. Ifrit flipped him off in response.

He spent the rest of his meal absentmindedly picking at his food, catching his eyes traveling back to the water ghoul sitting with Zephyr in the opposite corner.

He’s long since finished eating, but he remained seated. Pretending that there was something very interesting in the newspaper one of the siblings left behind.

He let the pages bend back to steal more glances in Dew’s direction, until he heard the scraping of chairs. He pulled the long sheets up in front of his face to hide.

Unable to discern the footsteps of any particular ghoul around him, he wasn’t sure where Dew went, but he hadn’t seen him pass through the doors. Concentrating so hard on his whereabouts that he didn’t notice Dew had snuck up behind hom.

He became aware of Dew’s presence when he felt something cool drape across his neck. He looked down to see the end of Dew’s tail flicking back and forth across his chest.

“H-hey, didn’t see you there.” Ifrit cringed as he registered how awkward he sounded.

“Oh? I was sure you did see me. My mistake.”

“Well, I mean I saw you, over there.”

“So, I was thinking you could work your magic on my shoulders. The bass is really heavy.” Ifrit didn’t need to look, he was sure Dew’s expression was something akin to cartoon puppy eyes.

“Yeah, I mean, sure. Yes.” Did he need to say yes 3 different ways? Maybe, as he digested the idea of running his hands over Dew’s slender back, fingers gliding across his skin with the aid of the oil Mountain made him.

“Thank you.”

“You want to do it - now?”

“Sure, if you’re not busy.”

“No.” Ifrit wanted to bang his head on the table. How could someone so soft spoken and seemingly shy unnerve him so deeply that he couldn’t speak properly.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Ifrit followed a pace behind as Dew led the way to his room. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself once inside, sitting on the edge of the bed twirling his thumbs.

He felt Dew’s eyes on him but he didn’t dare look up, lest he make an even bigger ass of himself. He registered Dew’s movement out of the corner of his eye. Sliding his shoes off, tossing his sweater on a chair.

He peeled off his t-shirt, throwing it in the same direction. Ifrit was the fire ghoul but Dew was the one making the room unbearably hot. Ifrit nearly choked on his own saliva when he heard Dew’s belt slithering through the loops.

His sanity was preserved as Dew’s unintentional strip tease ended. He let his eyes flit to the left, and indeed Dew was still staring at him. Was this some kind of revenge? Maybe he needed to apologize.

“M’kay I’m ready.” Dew crawled on to the bed, laying prone in the center of the mattress. Ifrit had thought Dew would just sit in front of him. Now he had to worry about not crushing his small frame underneath his much larger one.

Ifrit positioned himself over his slim thighs, hovering, he’d poured out far too much oil but Dew didn't seem to mind. As Ifrit worked his hands over him, he searched for the tension that Dew complained of but he found none. No knots, no inflammation, no stiffness. Still, Dew purred in pleasure as Ifrit’s hands slid across his skin.

“Is this helping?”

“Oh yes, very much.”

Ifrit continued in silence, listening to Dew’s little chirps and moans. “You know, your back feels much better than your hands did.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t really hurt that bad. I just figured if you were going to keep staring at me all day and not doing anything about it, I’d just invite you to put your hands all over me.”

Ifrit blushed furiously for the second time in his life, but his hands maintained their course, dipping below the waistband of his jeans to knead his thumbs into the twin dimples on his lower back.

Dew abruptly flipped on to his back, hands snaking up Ifrit’s thighs, taking in his wide eyed expression with a coy smile. “It’s okay.” Dew assured him. “I was staring too. I’m just more discreet about it.”

#dewdrop is a brat #Ifrit cannot resist the lure of pretty fishy Dew #Ifrit is a goner #mushy may #midnight moth mushy may 2023 #midnight moth writes

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hvwks · 3 months

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and listen i get it i understand a hefty sizable chunk (honestly, the vast majority) of the fandom wants endeavor dead, rendered useless, written off, etc, for his actions and thats fair and completely valid bc like. its a fictional dude. actions were reprehensible, you may have those opinions.

but... i just... the potential for those kids to finally heal and move forward. and begin a life for themselves free of the shackles that their family's fucked up dynamics created... so much of that can come from seeing what brought you pain and misery and choosing to move forward, anyway. i'm not saying you need to forgive your abuser or anything of that nature. absolutely not. but i can tell you. if... my mother, who spent so much of my childhood and adolescence telling me how useless i was, how i can't do anything right, won't achieve anything with my life, and fostered these severely debilitating neurodivergencies that i know have to be in full-time therapy for the forseeable future with no real "cure" for it (woohoo lets go bpd!) .... so much as apologized to me even once. for the things that i went through. i think i could heal so much of my inner. i wouldn't be fixed compeltely. hell, i will still need to do my dbt worksheets and my grounding techniques. but at least i won't have to spend the rest of my life dealing with a "would she ever say sorry? would she ever recognize what she did to me?"

and the thing is, at least for shoto, fuyumi, even natsuo to some extent.... they are choosing to be there, choosing to listen to the man that made their life a living hell in his apologies. enji didn't force any of his kids to listen to his apologies. much less accept them. and that's said time and time again. shown multiple times, too. the way those kids choose to step up and move forward is completely of their own volition--and whether YOU, the viewer, an outsider's perspective, decide hes worthy of "redemption" (which!! he explicitly said he didn't want! he specifically said he wants to atone for his actions!! not be seen as a completely different person, but the same man who recognizes his evils and is actively making the choice to see where he can make things better, even by a small fraction if he can!!) doesn't change the fact that there are people out there who would give up their pinky toe to have a parent that hurt them so badly acknowledge their actions and apologize for them.

not because it makes them a btter person all of a sudden. but because it gives the people affected by them the chance to find closure and move forward to grow into something new and transformed.

and THAT is why endeavor's survival, ESPECIALLY after the climax of the todorokis vs dabi, would be important to the narrative as well as the overall growth of the todoroki family. dabi felt what it was like, for the first time, to be seen. he's a boy that never got to grow or learn how to handle his very big emotions. he was a victim in all things. whether that was with endeavor or with afo. but the potential for him to see what could be, see where things can, maybe, just maybe, one day become what the little touya that died at sekoto peak always wanted is too good for me to ignore.

#enji todoroki #endeavor #bnha #mha #listen i know no one cares honestly i do #but this is important to me and i just get so bored and tired of the 'if u like endeavor ur an abuse apologst' narrative #like.#anyway #dont even get me started on how hawks relates to this or youll never find peace #abuse tw #mental abuse tw #child abuse tw #in case

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deathvalleyqueen · 1 year

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I am 34 years old. There are some people who will see this post that I am old enough to have birthed you. So just remember that alright. I am old. I have lived in this fandom space of HP for nigh on 25 years at this point. My fandom experience can rent a damn car at this point.

I lived through the Ms Scribe fuckery in the HP in REAL TIME. Do y’all even know about that. DO Y’ALL EVEN KNOW!? Have you even read My Immortal? Did you have deathly hallows spoiled for you before you could even get off work to buy the damn book?

No... sit down then and just listen.

I was writing HP fanfic before some of y’all were even BORN. I was helping build this fandom space you now dwell in back when I was unaware of the depth of hate that exists in both the books and fandom.

Now I got fetuses trying to tell me “Stope Hate mongering” about Hogwarts Legacy. Like there isn’t legit reason I needed to make a post warning younger fans about a toxic voice actor.

I never once said anything about don’t play the game. Do whatever the hell you want. I am not your parent. In my life I spend enough time trying to keep my own child from consuming media I would prefer him not to. I am not doing that online as well. All I said don’t simp for a man that is legit a vile creature that has a variable encyclopedia of evidence to his disgusting and dangerous behavior towards his own “fans”. Something I wish, I WISH, someone would have told me when I picked up Dragon Age.

If I had a friend that was playing another IP this particular voice actor is in, I would say the SAME THING.

FFS, my best friend is on her second playthrough of HL and am I upset at her. No. It’s her money and while yes a fraction goes to a disgusting woman, I am not going to not speak to my friend because of it.

I love how one post that I made because I felt there was actual reason to warn a whole section of a fandom about someone’s who did a lot of horrible things somehow gets my inbox full of anon hate that I will be ignoring. HP never disappoints as one of the most “I will die on this hill” fandoms.

smh, like do whatever the hell you want. It’s legit has no bearing on my life but seriously the anon messages need to stop. Grow up. I am sorry your favorite is problematic as fuck. Join the club and get over it.

#hogwarts legacy #anti-greg ellis #i am too old to deal with this #you try to warn people and get attacked

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sadieshavingsex · 8 months

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I just watched heartstopper at the suggestion of a friend. I don’t typically talk about like present day fandoms on this blog but I think it was a pretty good (if occasionally surface level for some of the more minor characters) representation of a lot of kinds of trauma (familial, relational, etc), relationship dynamics, and relationship difficulty. For reference, I think I’m straight(?). Still, the parallels between the characters and my life really struck me. The experience of having a partner who doesn’t want to share your relationship with the world, for any reason (some seemingly more valid than others). The conversation about waiting to have sex (probably deserves its own post but it hit home a lot and my thoughts haven’t crystallized yet).

And of course the ever more blatant realization that queer trauma has a LOT of intersections with purity culture/church trauma. I don’t want to say that they’re the same because they’re definitely not, but they echo back to each other in a lot of ways. Like, Nick coming out to his mom transported me back to these moments in the car on the way to school where I would spend the whole ride there working myself up to ask my mom a sexual question or admit/confess some sexual concern or thought I’d been having. The amount of times as a teen/tween that I wrote her a note or sent her a text or tried to “confess” face to face the fact that I was a sexual person, that I did read explicit content, that I kissed a guy, that he touched me, that I was so bad and so rotten and whatever else she might think of me… the way that I truly believed masturbation and reading ~sexy fanfiction~ was something only I “struggled with” and that it would be a miracle if anybody could ever love me after “what I’d done”!! I know it’s certainly not the same but I see an echo of the repression of self and the fear of being seen as a completely different person and totally rejected on the basis of this one thing that makes up only a fraction of your personality, your preferences, your interests, your life. In fact, the feeling that this secret double life is your entire personality and the fear that you deserve to be rejected, that you are bad, that you are inherently wrong for who you are or what you like. For your sexuality (either who you like or simply the fact that you have a sexuality at all). It just really felt relatable to me despite the fact that I don’t consider myself part of the LGBT+ community and it was really interesting for me to have a window into these terrifying, sometimes traumatic interactions that I realized have echoes or mirrors in my own life. Like I just feel a lot of solidarity in the way that these “good old Christian values” or whatever have stolen so much happy life and peaceful relationship from us, even if not in exactly the same way.

I have no idea if what I’m writing is making sense but. Heartstopper I love you for your representation of all these difficult things!!!! I know it’s not about me but this show made me feel seen and helped me empathize differently with what my friends and others I know have gone/are going through!!

#mine #exvangelical #religious trauma #ex christian #ex fundie #purity culture #christian purity culture #heartstopper

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rhaenyratargeryn · 3 years

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So I wrote an entire Gojo x Reader multichap fic in the space of like a month?? And it’s the first multichap fic I have ever completed.

Title: Convergence Theory

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader (oc)

Tropes: Fake Engagement, Idiots in Love, Canon Divergence, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Porn with Feelings (after ch. 13)

Summary: An on-going and haphazardly updated series of works where you, the reader, are a sorcerer and Limitless user in a not all-together fake engagement/relationship with one Gojo Satoru.

Status: chapters 22/22 ✅

Ao3 Link

Excerpt:

August, 2005.

That summer had been oppressively warm, a layer of heat trapped beneath a layer of moisture that made even the light fabric of your kimono stick to your sides. It was the kind of weather that made your body beg for relief, to lay shivering and sweltering under the barest breath of cool air.

Your mother had opened the outside screens in the room, letting you sit on the porch overlooking the small garden at the center of the expansive, traditional home. The view was lovely, overlooking a manicured garden, a small koi pond bubbling pleasantly even as the night air chirped with the sounds of insects.

The main house was equipped with air conditioners in some of the rooms— just like your parent’s own home, only a short distance away, but somehow so far removed from the atmosphere of this place it felt miles away. Centuries. The clock on the wall seemed suspended in time, halted too by the weight that fell over this place.

There was nothing to be done. When the head of the Gojo family called, even the smallest vine, hanging from the tiniest branch, curled in. Your great grandmother had bore the Gojo name before she married, a detail of minor significance that had not effected your own family until your birth. You had often heard your parents discussing the main family in hushed voices when they thought you were not listening. First with excitement and eagerness and then with worry.

There had been a phone call, an order disguised as invitation.

Gojo Satoru, heir to the name, barer of the Six Eyes, was turning sixteen in December, a scant four months away.

Six Eyes.

Two words that managed to leave the bitterest taste of bile in your throat.

It had been thought the next Six Eyes would be born in your generation, your parents hopeful at one point that you were the one so blessed. A hundred years of waiting ended by the birth of another child, honored above all other sorcerers. You had been born with the Limitless technique, that much was certain and an extra unnaturally keen ability of foresight… the signs were there. The possibility that the the massive potential of the Limitless was within your grasp if you could only prove to possess the fabled Six Eyes…

You were hailed for a short time as possibly a true child of the Gojo blood, a blessing. A boon. And then not even a short year later that boy was tested. No two Six Eyes could exist and it was him, not you, who was truly blessed.

You ran your hands up the back of your neck, dislodging the hair stuck your heated skin.

And worse yet, now you would suffer the indignity of being paraded around with every other eligible girl with a single drop of Gojo blood diluted enough to be proper for marriage.

Gojo Satoru needed a betrothed and only the best would do, naturally.

You were to be polite, courteous and docile. Laugh at his jokes, bat your eyes. Play the role of the pursued for the pursuer.

Did you even want to be selected? Once hailed as the promised child, now degraded to probable broodmare ?

You sucked your teeth, holding back a feral shriek somewhere deep in your throat. There was a knock on the wooden frame of the room, lazy and slow. The door slid open before your mother could get you to return inside to the low tables and too hot tea laid out.

You were all but deaf to the sounds of stilted, forced polite conversation, but could not ignore the sudden presence of a young man who came to sit down hard at your side.

Gojo Satoru was not an unattractive young man. He had the signature Gojo coloring, his eyelashes even as pale as driven snow. You yourself had even inherited two streaks of white in your hair, framed near your face and standing in contrast against the rest.

But that handsomeness was hard to enjoy when his expression was one of such utter indifference. He did not even bother to remove the dark glasses that shaded over his eyes, but you hardly were offended. It would have been all the worse to have to look at the very thing you coveted most in this world. Taunting you. Dismissing you.

How many girls had he been forced to sit with today? Judging by his bored expression, too many.

“This is the part where you tell me your name.” He said, voice amused, yet slightly condescending. Behind you both, his parents spoke with your own, but that too was part of the charade. All eyes were on you. All ears tuned to your words.

“You know my name.” You said with a thinly veiled sigh. His attention shifted just a fraction and you noticed with an indignant flush he was wearing his school uniform. Shirt untucked, jacket unbuttoned. You had been forced to spend hours getting ready for this meet-up. Forced to wear a kimono in this hot weather.

He tilted down his glasses to give you a halfway appraising look and you turned away.

“Goin’ for the aloof angle then? Some other girls tried it too. As if you pretend hard enough that you aren’t interested somehow I will be.”

How fucking arrogant.

Your fists clenched in your lap.

“It won’t work.”

“I’m not working any ‘angle’.” You grumbled, “I was told to be here so I’m here. That’s all.”

“You expect me to believe that, huh?”

“I don’t care what you believe.” You spat back, turning to shoot him a piercing glare.

There was silence then, even the voices behind you seeming to falter and lower as if worried they were missing out on some secret hushed conversation.

“Ohhh, wait. I remember now! I do know your name.” Gojo continued, taking off his sunglasses and wiping off some smudge or dust from the lens, “Aren’t you that girl they thought was gonna have the Six Eyes in her?”

Your fist clenched tighter.

“I get it now. Sour grapes and all. Tell ya what…” he spoke softer and leaned in until you felt his breath against your ear, “If you ask me really nicely, for one night, you still could."

The only sound that came after that was the harsh strike of skin against skin. The contact of your palm connecting to his cheek stunned not just the adults inside, but you.

No self respecting sorcerer with the Limitless ability would have been taken by surprise and yet here you sat, having successfully struck the heir to the Gojo name right across his smug face.

You drew your hand back. His cheek had turned a throbbing red so quickly, his smirk raised as his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose and revealed how his blue eyes danced with open amusement.

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru x oc #gojo satoru x reader #ao3 #jjk fanfic #jjk fanfiction #gojo satoru #THE BRAIN ROT WAS HOW BAD???#80k+ WORDS BAD #reader insert

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fandom-collective-writers · 3 years

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Punishment

Fandom: MLQC

Pairing: Victor x MC (Emme)

Prompt: Spanking Kink

Requested by: Anonymous

Warning: Fluff, Pre-existing relationship, Spanking, Surprise element

Word Count: 1066

Summary: A private meeting turns into playful punishment.

From the moment that Victor had requested this private meeting with Emme, her mind had been gone over every possible scenario. Sure the Miracle Finder’s ratings still weren’t great, but she’d thought they were okay, definitely not so bad as to have LFG pull their funding. Her heartbeat was racing right along with her thoughts. She twisted her hands and chewed at her lower lip.

Mr. Mills quietly approached with a bottle of wine. “I’m told dinner will be out in a moment. Before I leave, may I pour you a glass?”

Emme turned toward the familiar voice. With a nod and a somewhat hesitant smile, she replied. “Yes, please.” Her eyes drifted towards the kitchen. “What sort of mood is he in?”

The older man chuckled softly like sheep’s wool. “He seems quite happy, I’d say. Happy enough to give me the rest of the night off.” As he spoke, he filled two goblets.

Could she have been wrong? She gave herself a mental shake. Mr. Mills never spoke ill of Victor, why had she imagined this time would be different? Emme thanked Mr. Mills before watching him close Souvenir and leave for the evening.

It’s just business. It’s not personal. The constant, silent mantra was repeated over and over again until Victor came through the kitchen entrance. Emme’s eyes widened. Victor and Emme had been an unofficial couple for some time and had spent countless hours in each other’s company before, but something about him standing there minus his jacket and tie sent a tingle straight through her. For a long minute, Emme forgot how to speak.

Victor cast his glance at Emme. His eyes sparkled but the rest of his face was a stoic mask of unreadability. Closing the distance between the kitchen and Emme, Victor set out dinner for them both on the table.

“Are you pulling our funding?” The words flew out before she really thought about it. Even if dinner looked five star quality, her nerves and anxiety had gotten the better of her.

“Eat and then we can talk.” Victor flashed Emme a smile and began to stab at a piece of stewed beef on his plate.

Each time Emme tried to broach the topic, Victor would shake his head and direct her attention back to their dinner. She picked at the asparagus spears and beef. For some reason, the woman who always had an appetite couldn’t seem to focus on the delicious meal before her.

The couple managed to get through the dinner with very few words exchanged. Victor gathered the used dishes on the tray. He balanced it on one hand while extending his other towards Emme. “We can discuss the reason for this meeting as you wash dishes.”

She took his hand and followed towards the kitchen. They had dined at Souvenir a dozen times and payment was usually something like washing dishes or if she was really lucky, helping plan the meal. A smile crossed her lips, masking the nervous tension she felt ticking away inside of her.

“I’ll wash, you rinse,” Victor said pointedly. When he chose to be, he could be gentle, but for the most part Victor was always business-like. He rolled up his sleeves and removed his watch.

Emme’s eyes widened in disbelief. Sure, at home Victor did his own dishes, but seeing him do that here, left Emme more confused and curious. “So, why did you ask for a private meeting?”

Victor handed her two slightly soapy but much cleaner forks. “I had something very important I needed to say and I don’t handle rejection well.” His voice, for but a fraction of a moment, seemed to waver. Confidence had slipped but then returned just as quick. “So, let me ease your fears, you’re not losing funding.”

A sigh escaped Emme’s light pink lips. “But if not the funding, then what could you ask that I might reject?” She dipped the utensils into the rinse water. She waited for an answer as two plates were handed over to her.

“It’s about our future. Something we’ve never really spoken about.” He handed her the empty goblet. “I’ve been thinking about this ever since you were injured and had to spend all that time in the hospital.”

“Oh,” she gasped. “That was what, a year ago? So, all this time you’ve been thinking about our future?” Only then did Emme notice that there was only one goblet. Two forks, two plates, one goblet. “Victor, where is the other goblet?”

Feigning ignorance to where the second goblet was, Victor shrugged. “Can you check the table?”

Emme turned around and proceeded to return to the dining room. As she got to the doorway, there it was, a half full goblet on the table. She walked over towards it, but as she got closer she could see something in the glass besides the wine.

“Je t’aime, Emme. Will you marry me?” Victor whispered into her ear.

Emme’s head turned, eyes wide and glossy as unshed tears threatened to fall. “This… Are you serious?” She wrapped her arms around Victor. “Yes, of course yes.”

Victor fished the ring from the white wine and slipped it onto Emme’s finger. “However, for doubting me and thinking I would be so cruel as to hurt your career, your company or your future, you’ll need a punishment.” Victor sat in the chair and tugged his newly engaged fiance over his lap.

She gasped as her belly laid over her lap, her delicate ass only barely covered by a thin pair of panties and a summer dress. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you, Victor,” her soft voice pleaded.

SMACK! SMACK! Victor’s hand moved through the air with precision landing perfectly on Emme’s cheeks. When the sound of her whimpering moans fell only slightly louder than her normal voice, he flipped the bottom of her skirt up and gently tugged her panties down her thighs. SMACK! SMACK! Two more swift swats rained down.

Moans erupted from her mouth as bare flesh met bare flesh. Goosebumps formed all over her body while sparks of pleasure pulsed through her body. Six more stinging blows landed between her ass and her upper thighs. Each making her a bit more excited; more ready for whatever future Victor and she would have together.

“Come on, I think we should take this to my place for the night.”

#mlqc victor #mlqc smut #anon ask #marriage proposal #fluffy smut #domestic fluff

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spockandawe · 3 years

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beefleaf me

Oh man, beefleaf!! I think I’m going to actually answer this in the order of cons, then pros, so I can end these things on a positive note.

Downsides:

This isn’t necessarily a downside to the ship itself, more what canon gave us, but it kills me that we get so little insight into He Xuan’s feelings about Shi-Qingxuan-in-particular, as a distinct entity from Shi Wudu, and independent of the impact Shi Wudu’s actions had on everyone’s lives. Which isn’t super fair of me, it’s me wanting clarity that I don’t especially need, but it does make me sad that such an important part of He Xuan’s internal world has to be inferred with fairly minimal textual support.

Part of that is what makes the ship fascinate me so much, because the ambiguity of ‘was our friendship all a lie, or was some of it real’ is a HELL of a draw. And it leaves a lot of emotional space for fandom to play with in a way that hualian doesn’t. But the closest we get to something illuminating He Xuan’s emotions after the black water arc is him being willing to pass Shi Qingxuan energy to keep the barrier up, and it’s still not clear if he just does it because it’s simply necessary, if he’s awkward because he has some regrets, or if he’s cold because he doesn’t want to see Shi Qingxuan ever again. I crave! Clarity!!!

And similarly, it kinda makes me drag my nails down my face how little we get to see of Shi Qingxuan in the aftermath of the arc. They are such a sweetheart, honestly, and are so open to accepting that they didn’t earn the life they were given, and they’re perfectly willing to give it up and make reparations. But they drop off the stage for so long, and they’ve had time to think and process by the time they come back, and there’s also an emergency to keep everyone moving. It’s impossible to tell how angry they are over what happened to their brother (whether at their brother or at he xuan), how they’re coping with grief, how they’re coping with losing their supposed best friend, how they’re coping with the idea that this whole extended friendship could have been a lie, and they have no way to get closure on whether it all was a lie or not.

It is important for my own fandom purposes that I have some idea of the headspace both of these characters are in re: each other as the novel finishes, and I’m left almost completely without a clue, haha

Upsides:

But everything being left so wide open isn’t necessarily a bad thing! It does mean that if I write them (I do want to write them), it’s going to be a struggle for me to pin down which variations on feelings I want them to both be experiencing. My personal favorite headcanon is that He Xuan didn’t realize how genuinely important Shi Qingxuan was to him until he burned everything down, and even now, isn’t sure whether his feelings are positive or not, and that Shi Qingxuan has been aggressively coping and spends a lot of energy not thinking too hard about the bruises that still hurt too much to poke. But I could write all kinds of things! I could write a He Xuan who was in love but thought that backing out of the plan would betray the memory of everyone else he loved! I could write a genuinely angry Shi Qingxuan, if I wanted to, which is hard to visualize, but it would be absolutely justifiable!

It’s kind of a weird situation for me to be in, where a ship is central enough that I’ve got loads of material to play with, but ends on an open enough note that I could justify just about any headspace I want for either of them. Their backstory is so loaded and complex that this dynamic can go in all sorts of interesting directions, but I don’t even need to work out a canon divergence to make it happen, I can just pick up from where the book leaves of, and it’s almost impossible to tell me that I’m wrong.

And just... that backstory, man. ‘You were born in a shitty situation, and to get you out of it, your brother fucked over me, my parents, my sister, and my fiancee, all to elevate you to a position of unmatched comfort and luxury, while I was left behind to suffer and struggle and watch everyone I loved die. Then I died too, and my resentful energy was strong enough to keep me going, and strong enough to make me a ghost king. Then I pretended(?) to be your best friend for years, until I could find the perfect opportunity to make you understand a fraction of what I was forced to endure for your sake, and take some measure of revenge for everything I lost.’

Meanwhile, Shi Qingxuan is just bouncing happily along without a care in the word, enjoying spending time with their best friend. I don’t want to just rehash the whole black water arc, but the way Shi Qingxuan reacts as shit gets real and the way they understand where He Xuan is coming from really, really sealed this as something I could ship passionately. I love a ship with emotional baggage, and beefleaf delivers. After a setup like that, I’m not relying on canon to feed me, I can ship it myself.

But then Shi Qingxuan’s reaction... both their understanding/sympathy, and their lack of blame towards He Xuan, it makes me perk up my ears like WHOA. And their easy willingness to give everything up! It would have been so easy for Shi Qingxuan to reject responsibility or to resent He Xuan for holding a grudge over ancient events, or anything like that. But their reaction balances what a decent, kind person they are and the degree of care they have to have already felt for Ming Yi, and even though they’re learning all of this as the readers do, and are off-balance and terrified, they still react without lashing out or blaming He Xuan, and still seem to cherish their friendship, and it’s just.... *chef kiss*

#beefleaf #spock replies #shi qingxuan #he xuan #tgcf #tgcf spoilers/#long post/#veliseraptor

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captainstressed · 3 years

Text

Fandom: Doctor Who Pairing: 13/Yaz Words: 609 Summary: Set after ROTD, no spoilers Rated: T

AO3:

Till forever falls apart

“I spent so many years in that prison Yaz.”

The Doctor sounded slightly breathless as she spoke, fighting the emotions that always reared their ugly heads when she thought about her time away.

Years? Of all the things The Doctor had told Yaz about the moon prison, the length of time spent there had always been one of the things that she brushed over. It had been ten months for her and the others back on Earth but The Doctor had explained to them that she had intended on arriving ten minutes after and had (not for the first time) miscalculated. It had filled Yaz with a sick feeling as to how long The Doctor could have possibly been trapped before Jack had managed to break her out.

Sensing her mention of the past had steered Yaz’s thoughts away from the present, The Doctor whispered her name softly and kissed the corner of her mouth. It took a moment before she felt Yaz shift beneath her, turning her head a fraction to catch The Doctor’s lips in another kiss. It had taken time for them to reconnect after her return, neither were under any illusion of their feelings for each other but after doing her best to heal after their separation, Yaz had been terrified at the thought of experiencing such hurt again.

The Doctor had broken down the walls Yaz had rightfully built in her absence, regaining her trust and thanking every star responsible for bringing them back together.

She took her time, after spending so long in a limbo where she wasn’t sure if she’d ever get to see Yaz again, to experience what it felt like to be with her, she gave everything she had as though at any moment it could be their last.

“Doctor.”

Her given name fell from Yaz’s lips like a sigh, it was a sound that made The Doctor feel a way even she couldn’t describe. Intent on finding out what other glorious sounds she could draw from her love, she moved south. Hot kisses peppered Yaz’s throat, her hands moving to areas her mouth hadn’t reached yet, gentle squeezes, soft caresses.

The Doctor suppressed her own sounds of pleasure as she trailed her tongue along the valley between Yaz’s breasts, tasting her. She was losing the ability for a coherent thought, though if this was how she went? What a way.

Lifting her head from Yaz’s chest with a groan, The Doctor met her gaze. Her hearts were full from the beauty she saw before her, how she had ever gotten so lucky astonished her.

She reached out a hand, running the tip of her finger across Yaz’s brow, wishing she could save this moment forevermore.

“Not a day went by that you weren’t on my mind.”

She told her honestly, falling back to her previous thought.

Yaz could only look back at The Doctor in awe, her feather light touches leaving her skin warm and heart full.

“The hope that one day I would make it back, to you, it’s what kept me fighting.”

It was Yaz who reached out then, wanting to put action to her own gratitude. She caressed her cheek and drew her closer until their lips met.

“I love you, so much.”

It had been too easy for them to believe time was on their side prior to The Doctor’s imprisonment, neither expressing their true feelings for fear of getting hurt. Pain was inevitable but they refused to use it as an excuse to deny themselves happiness any longer, no matter how brief it may be.

“I love you too, Yaz.”

#ficlet #thasmin #fanfic #fic #thirteenth doctor #yasmin khan #thirteen x yaz #soft #otp #ao3

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idabbleincrazy · 3 years

Text

Home ~ A Spangel A~Z Ficlet

Fandom: Angel (Buffyverse)

Rating: T

Pairing: Spangel

Word Count: 742

Warnings: pinch of angst, character/relationship study, mentions of blood drinking, implied smut,

Summary: You’re never quite as far from home as you might think.

A/N: Ok, so, the stress of preparing to move is making the muse fickle, but I did finally manage to get this finished! Hope u all like it!

Feedback fuels my creativity! If you like my work, plz reblog/comment!!!

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to either of them, really. They were both creatures of habit, in the end. They should have known that at some point the past would eventually come as near to full circle as it could.

The Whirlwind had been William’s first home after he lost his soul, after all, and Angelus’ last since he regained his. Angel could pretend all he wanted, surround himself with humans who would fight by his side, call him friend, maybe even consider him family. But they were never home. They weren’t capable of understanding him completely, no matter how they tried. They could never be the place where he could truly rest, be himself. With them, he was the hero. The leader. Champion.

Spike had tried to find a comparable place in the world, too. Might have found it with Dru, if she had been able to give back even a fraction of the passion and attention she demanded of him. He couldn’t find it with the Scoobies, that was for sure. They gave back even less than his Sire; only coming to him when they needed his information or the added muscle. Buffy had come close, if only in those final days before he burned for her, for the world that no longer seemed to hold a place for him. But by then, it was too late, too tainted. She could never be his home.

It wasn’t until long after Spike was spat back out into the world, months after he got his physical body back, that they finally realized what they should have known all along. The Whirlwind had never felt complete until Drusilla had brought young William to them, had stopped feeling so the very day Angelus left them for good. Stood to reason they had been the cornerstones. That they were what they had wound up spending a century blindly searching for again.

Had Angel taken the time to think on it, spent more than just those scant few hours on that submarine in the presence of his Grandchilde, gotten to see the truth of him, beyond the demon, they might have spent decades less feeling lost and alone, cut adrift from the peace they’d once felt, before the curse. If Angelus hadn’t gone mad after a century tormented by the soul, they might have ended their search seven years ago. Time and again they found themselves back in the other’s world, missing it completely. Each too caught up in their own ever-changing present to remember their entangled past, except for the missteps. Focused only on the hurt, the aggravation, and the villainy, instead of the thrill, the trust, the contentment. The almost-love, the closest their demons had found to it, anyway.

Now, it seemed so obvious. No longer separated by the soul, but brought back together by it, they finally saw with clear eyes. This was where they found their home. Home was in the passing of a mug of blood in the morning, in the brush of lips across a sharp cheek or pressed comfortingly against a furrowed brow. It was in how they became an unstoppable force against many an enemy, working together seamlessly to bring down even the biggest demons, their styles of attack complimenting each other like steps to a beautiful dance.

Home was in rough fingers made smooth as they caressed softly over bruised flesh, in the silky slide of a tongue over split skin, unable to resist the Siren call of family blood. Home was someone caring enough to take stock of every wound and ease away the ache from every throbbing muscle. It was firm assurances of ‘I’m okay’ before leading the other through the darkened penthouse, clothes shed along the way. As they wrapped themselves around each other. In the bed they shared, in the arms that wound around them, pulling them closer. In fingers gripping, digging, clawing, just right. In frenzied lips moving together in a perfect harmony that they thought they’d never feel again, in lithe planes and broad shoulders that tangled in a perfect symphony of give and take.

That was the home they had lost so many years ago, this was the home they finally found again just when they had given up hope of attaining it once more. This was the home they fought for, this was the home they just might die for, together. For what was home, without him?

~~~~~

@highonbandcandy @prose-for-hire @thewhiterabbit42 @laurensshitpost

#a:ts fanfic #buffyverse fanfic #spangel #spike/angel #spike #angel #spangel a-z

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joiedecombat · 3 years

Note

💕 🎁

💕 favorite ship to write?

Squall Leonhart and Rinoa Heartilly from Final Fantasy VIII, my original fandom OTP. I’ve probably written more about them than any other fic, and though it’s been a hot minute since I’ve written anything new for FFVIII, Squall and Rinoa and their relationship dynamic have left a permanent mark on my writing - especially Squall, who is eveything I love in a romantic hero.

By which mostly I mean “aloof, stoic professionalism on the outside, utter emotional garbage fire in need of rescue on the inside.”

🎁 have a quote from a WIP?

I batted back and forth with myself for a while on how deep to dig into my files of unfinished fiction and whether to stick to fanfic or not, considering that how much any of my WIPs can really be said to be in progress is always pretty dubious.

Anyway, here’s two different and unrelated excerpts for you.

“Why make the suggestion in the first place if you’re so against it?”

Because I’m not strong enough.

The answer rested on the tip of his tongue, too bitter to swallow. As much as this whole situation galled him, fact remained fact: he lacked the influence, not to mention the manpower, that it would take to challenge Juliano directly.

He’d grit his teeth and send this woman into the trenches, knowing full well what he was sending her to, because like it or not he needed the opportunity she could give him.

But some things a man in his position couldn’t admit to out loud. Especially not to a woman with eyes like Elizabeth Colvin’s.

This one’s from “Reason or Rhyme,” the Gotham Memoirs Vittorio fic I swear I will get back to when I have the chance.

The other is from an older original piece that is still more conceptual than really planned, but which I still really want to do something with one of these days:

Keeping herself propped up suddenly seemed like far too much effort. As the car’s drivers side door swung open, Raine sank back down onto the corrugated surface of the truck bed and closed her eyes. From there she heard rather than saw him approach, steps light and measured, the long shadow he cast in the headlights flickering against her eyelids: the central figure of all the problems she’d tried to forget.

“Warden.”

“Special Agent.”

She’d hoped to sound as calm and dispassionate as he had, but to her own ears her voice just sounded petulant. Saying anything else seemed like a bad idea. Instead she kept her eyes shut, as though if she didn’t acknowledge him any further, he might go away and leave her alone.

No such luck.

“What the hell have you been drinking,” he said with a flatness in that rich voice that made it not so much a question as a demand for explanation.

“Two for one margaritas, mostly.”

She opened one eye to find Alsandír standing at the side of the truck, looking down at her. In the stark backlight of the headlights, he was all sharp contrasts, silver and shadows like some kind of moody artistic photograph in a style there was probably a fancy name for. Chiaro… chiaroscuro. Something Italian like that.

He drew in a slow breath, the line of his jaw shifted fractionally as the corners of his mouth tightened. “With incredibly cheap tequila, by the smell of it. You are in no shape to drive.”

“A very astute observation,” Raine enunciated the words with great care to keep her mouth from stumbling over them like it wanted to. “That’d be why I’m not driving.”

He lifted an eyebrow.

“So your solution is to spend the night out here?” he asked, a note of incredulity creeping into his tone. “Because that’s safe.”

“Oh, go away,” she muttered sourly, closing her eyes again and lifting a hand to flap it in his direction. “Nobody asked you.”

Her arm caught up short against his palm, and he closed his hand around her wrist -- not a tight grip, but trying to tug free of him proved fruitless. By the time Raine opened her eyes to frown at him, he was already moving around to the tailgate, pulling her up and along with him until her feet touched the ground and she was sitting nominally upright.

“Hey,” she protested, but he gave no indication that he’d heard.

“Can you stand?”

Insulted, she hissed a breath out through her teeth. “I’m not that drunk.”

He said nothing to that. He just stood there, watching her with that too-steady gaze, inhumanly still except for the barest ruffle of the breeze over his hair. Expectant.

With a half-voiced grumble of capitulation, Raine braced her hand against the tailgate and pushed herself the rest of the way up so that she could sit on her own. It wasn’t standing, but it seemed to satisfy him, because he let go of her wrist and took a single, precise step back.

“Where are your keys?” he asked her.

She patted her hand against the hip pocket of her jeans, not so much by way of an answer as to reassure herself that she hadn’t done something stupid like leave them in the ignition. The hard edges of the keyring pressed back against her palm, unyielding and familiar. She had just enough time to think that if he meant to take her keys from her, it was going to be a fight, before he said “Good,” and turned away.

Raine sat on the tailgate and watched as he went back to his car, moving around to the passengers’ side to open the door. Her mind felt thick and sluggish, like the summer humidity had crept into her head; when he turned back towards her and said, “Get in,” at first she only blinked.

“...No thanks,” she decided after a moment, and heard him breathe out a quiet sigh.

“I’m not leaving you out here like this.”

Something about the absoluteness in his voice, like he was saying something that had already been decided, had her bunching up her shoulders with rebellious tension.

“Go to hell,” Raine shot back. “I don’t take orders from you.”

“Dios mío, it’s not an order--” He broke off with a hiss, for once sounding as aggravated as she felt.

Curling her arms around herself, she hunkered down to rest her forearms against her knees and looked down at the ground. Presently she heard his steps on the gravel again. The distorted length of his shadow split the flood of light from the headlights like a knife as he walked back toward her; even when he stood right in front of her, close enough that if she kicked out it would catch him right about in the kneecap, she kept her head bowed and glowered at the toes of his no-doubt-designer shoes.

“Raine. I am asking you. Please.” The word sounded awkward in his mouth, as though it were something he wasn’t accustomed to pronouncing. Surprise had her lifting her head to find those pale eyes fixed upon her, implacable. “Get in the fucking car.”

For a long, taut moment, neither of them moved. Raine was the one to finally break eye contact, uncurling herself with a little huff.

“Fine,” she said, “if you’re going to make this much of a thing out of it.”

She gripped the end of the tailgate with both hands, but as she pushed herself off and onto her feet, the ground tilted dizzily underneath her. Off balance, she pitched forward with a very undignified sound, and would’ve planted her face right into his chest if he hadn’t caught her by the shoulders.

Catching the upward quirk of his eyebrow, Raine glared up at him. “Shut up.”

“Mm,” he said, and hitched a steadying arm around her by which to steer her towards his car.

#time princess #gotham memoirs #vittorio puzo #southern gothic urban fantasy procedural romance #fanfic #ask meme #aliboo

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invisibleinorange · 3 years

Text

Swelter Weather | 6/?

Chapters: 6/? Fandom: Bridgerton Rating: M Warnings: None at this point. Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington(besties), Bridgerton Family Dynamics, Marina Thompson/Phillip Crane, Eloise Bridgerton/Phillip Crane, Kate Sheffield/Anthony Bridgerton, Daphne Bridgerton/Simon Hastings Characters: Colin Bridgerton, Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton, Phillip Crane, Benedict Bridgerton, Daphne Bridgerton, Additional Tags: Bridgerton, Polin

Summary: Colin Bridgerton is weary from travel and decides to spend the summer at the Aubrey Hall. While his initial plans were to avoid his perfect family, he ends up sharing the house with Eloise and Penelope. This is a Modern AU!

It was a little wrong to sneak out and leave Eloise alone with a man that she’d just met but Penelope was willing to wager that their friendship would survive this slight. They’d had plenty of disagreements over the years and they nearly always made up. Nine times out of ten, their disagreements revolved around little secrets that Penelope wasn’t quite prepared to divulge and Eloise failing to be observant about them or Eloise being a little overly pushy with her own feelings and opinions.

This time would be different. Penelope had already made her mind up about this. She had every intention of sitting her down, having a heart to heart conversation about this Colin thing but first she had to be sure that there was actually going to be one. She didn’t actually know what was happening. She just knew that she’d always wanted something to happen and it was and she was terrified if she stopped it, she’d never be this lucky again.

That was why she dragged Colin away from the corner they’d disappeared to for longer than was appropriate to find Eloise and Phillip at the bar. She had a single-mission apologize away and then go. She’d ask for forgiveness later.

“There you two are,” Eloise asked suspiciously eyeing them curiously.

Phillip oddly didn’t look suspicious at all though Penelope did pick up on a hint of some sort of secret smile toward Colin. It definitely didn’t go without notice and it did strike her that perhaps Colin had known precisely what he was doing tonight. They weren’t the distraction for Phillip. Phillip was the distraction for Eloise. He was a reasonably good-looking, nice guy and it had worked swimmingly. Penelope had to give credit where credit was due.

“Yeah, sorry – I think something I had at lunch didn’t settle well,” she said, telling a little white lie. She might have failed by not exactly telling Colin more than they were going to be leaving as he looked confused for a fraction of a second.

“Oh, so… Colin is going to escort you home then?” Phillip said with the save.

Penelope hadn’t really had the chance to talk to him much but she already really liked this guy. He clearly was getting the memo.

She was starting to wonder if she’d sucked all the oxygen from Colin’s brain when he didn’t jump in on this. She elbowed him slightly which seemed to trigger him into action.

“Of course,” he said after a moment. “I’m really sorry that we didn’t have much time to hang out but hopefully Eloise hasn’t bored you too much.”

Eloise seemed to think this meant she needed to go too. She started grabbing her bag, trying to stand.

“I hate that our night was cut short-“

“Oh no, I wouldn’t dream of stealing you away from Phillip,” Penelope said after a moment, leaning into Colin for full effect and trying to will herself to look pathetic. “Please stay so his night isn’t ruined. Colin can take care of me.”

Eloise was definitely suspicious. Her eyes moved back and forth between Colin who had plastered the look of pure innocence on his face and Penelope who looked the picture of death. They were definitely on to something. Phillip seemed to think it was legitimate though and she shrugged deciding to just leave it be.

“I’ll make sure she gets home safe,” Phillip assured.

“Then it’s settled then,” Colin said with a nod, arm going around Penelope’s back to lead her up and out of the club before Eloise could change her mind.

In the grand scheme of things, the wait between the car being ordered to take them home and them arriving wasn’t that long but it felt about a million years.

As the slipped into the back of the car, Penelope couldn’t help but laugh when Colin pulled out his wallet and handed a hundred dollar bill to the driver.

“You see nothing, you know nothing,” he told the driver who accepted the money and thus the promise of absolutely ignoring them. He had ever intention of behaving but it never hurt to have someone turn a blind eye. The vehicle started moving without further question from the driver and that was all he wanted.

Colin grinned sheepishly in the dark before reaching to turn Penelope’s face so he could claim her lips again. He’d not wanted to stop at the bar and he was grateful to have the freedom to do it again even if the car wasn’t exactly private.

He certainly wasn’t ashamed to kiss her in front of other people. His problem was that his lips were pretty eager to explore more than her mouth and he wasn’t quite sure how much longer he could behave himself.

There was also the matter that they hadn’t actually discussed what was happening between them and he felt like they ought to. He wasn’t under any illusion that he didn’t have a reputation albeit a false one. He didn’t want Penelope to have the wrong idea about his intentions nor did he want her to feel pressure to do anything either.

She seemed to be the one calling the shots more than he was lately and he wasn’t upset about it. He couldn’t help but find the moments when she took control, made it clear precisely what she wanted appealing. He’d always known the confident, direct girl existed but more often than not she let herself be pushed to the shadows. It was silly when she was so funny, smart and beautiful!

He admittedly felt his pants tighten when he heard the click of her seat belt, felt her move from her seat to his lap and her dress rose slightly bunching against her thighs. She was wonderfully warm against him and so perfect. He his hands moved to her hips to try and grip her.

His eyes closed when her mouth moved to tease at his neck. An audible groan escaped him and he was grateful that the driver decided to turn up the music he was listening to. He wanted to move his hands from her hips to her ass or elsewhere but he kept clutching her hips to try and keep himself in check.

“Pen,” he murmured after a second, knowing that he had to gain some self-control. He had to actually have a conversation with her before he ended up having his way with her in the back of this vehicle. She deserved so much more than that.

Her eyes opened slightly and she did pull back, confusion flickering across her face. Colin couldn’t help but pick up on what appeared to be hurt playing on her features and he felt like an absolute monster for it.

“What’s wrong?” she asked before trying to slip back to her seat. He shook his head no, hand tightening harder to keep her precisely where she was in his lap.

“I want to talk,” he said resolutely.

Penelope’s face turned ghastly white.

“I misread the whole thing and you don’t owe me any explanation for that,” she said trying to cut him off at the pass if he was going to tell her that he wasn’t looking for something long-term or that he couldn’t possibly want to be with her. It made sense to her. Colin wanting to be with her was too good to be true. “We’ve always been friends. You don’t have to… ”

He kissed her again to silence her not wanting to hear another minute of her thinking that he didn’t want her. It was ludicrous.

“Are you going to let me talk?” he asked when he broke away.

She nodded.

“Good. I was trying to tell you that I don’t want to just kiss you,” he told her after a moment. “I mean, clearly I want to do more than that but – I mean, we’ve known each other for a long time and my entire family cares about you. I care about you too.”

Penelope didn’t have to question for a minute that he did.

“I care about you too,” she told him softly.

“I need you to understand that if you let me have my way with you, you’re never going to be rid of me again,” he said firmly. “I need you to know that I’m going to be all in and I need to be sure you will be as well.”

Penelope wasn’t sure that she’d heard him correctly. Was he suggesting that she might be the one who decided it was a one and done? It was the most insane thing she’d ever heard in her life.

“You think that I’m going to shag and run?” she asked looking at him like he had grown another head. “I’ve had a crush on you since we were practically children.”

“No,” he said after a moment, jaw tightening. He didn’t think that was anything special and she was. He wasn’t as confident as he might like the world to think. He could let momentary vulnerability come through here. “I just – what if I don’t live up to your expectations?”

“What I don’t live up to yours?” she said turning it back on him. She didn’t consider herself beautiful. She could hide behind her clothes but when they came off would he be repulsed by her curves? Would he dislike her inexperience? She couldn’t imagine a scenario where he didn’t live up to her expectations but the other way around seemed far more probable.

“That won’t be happening,” he told her shaking his head.

“Then maybe we slow it down,” she said after a moment, biting her lip. “Until we’re both sure that the other isn’t going anywhere. I mean, not too slow and definitely not a secret because I’m going to talk to Eloise but a little less impulsive, a little more…thoughtful.”

“Okay,” he said with a nod, realizing the car had finally come to a stop. They were actually home. “Well I think that we have a lot of ground to cover and the house to ourselves for a little while. I do believe I’m supposed to be taking care of you so if you just happen to sleep in my bed that won’t be a problem.”

“I don’t suppose it would.”

Penelope moved off him enough to open the door and climb out, Colin following behind with a polite word of thanks for the driver.

“One more thing,” he said moving behind her, keeping the conversation going.

She turned her head toward him watching while he maneuvered around her to unlock the door and let them in. She kicked off her heels at the entrance.

“Okay?” she said waiting for him to say it.

“If someone asks, you’re my girlfriend,” he said firmly. It wasn’t a question but a statement. Of course, she could argue it if she wanted.

“I don’t remember you asking?” she said, pausing slightly, amusement was written on her face though.

Colin wasn’t one to turn away from a challenge though or an opportunity to be overly dramatic. He paused, moved down to one knee.

“Will you allow this to be an official thing?” he asked her, gazing up at her.

“Well since you asked nicely,” she teased.

#⚜ writings — polin #polin #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton

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romewritingshop · 4 years

Text

We could call it love

Fandom: Choices, Open Heart

Relationship: Doctor Ethan Ramsey X F!MC (Name: Doctor Kayla Jackson)

Warnings: Smut, fingering, alcohol drinking, semi-public sex, slightly drunk MC but she sobers up, biting

Word Count Total: 3561

A/N: It took me a while but I’ve managed to complete this fic. I guess you could call this a song fic as it includes lyrics. The song is Sacrifice by Black Atlass. An absolute sensual song that somehow works for Ethan and MC. Would love constructive feedback but that’s totally up to you. Thanks and I hope you enjoy. 😘 I’d definitely recommend listening to the song while reading the fic because it sets the mood. I tagged the ones who I thought would be interested but if not let me know, I just want to make some friends. 😊

SACRIFICE - BLACK ATLASS

CHOICES MASTERLIST

Tagged: @ohramsey @juliafranquet @me-and-my-choices @eleanorbloom @choicesficwriterscreations @kaavyaethanramsey @miss-smrxtiee @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @imonlybibecauseofethanramsey @drethanramslay @chaotichuman0090 @drakewalker04

The apartment was quiet, save for the low hum of the TV. Some Japanese game show was on but Kayla was paying no mind to it as her eyes zeroed in on the grainy wooden coffee table. Her spirit was in a world of its own as her hands blindingly scratched Pixie’s neck. Mack was happily munching on his lettuce beside her while Sunny was playing with a little ball between her paws. The pets were great company but they weren’t the best at communicating as Kayla exhaled shamefully, her head dropping to the back of the sofa. Her eyes closed as she recounted what happened in Ethan’s office.

“You’re an immature irresponsible resident that has turned the diagnostics team into a free flowing ATM. I hope you’re happy Dr. Jackson, you’ve gone against the principles of this team. I expected better from one of the best doctors.”

She flinched at the crystal clear sharp tone in his voice as she sunk further into her spiral of despair. She only reached out to Gwyneth to help with her condition and it was an extra bonus that she was willing to spend more money for her healthcare. A small fraction of her felt guilty at the fact that she went behind Ethan’s back but if she was presented with the choice she’d happily do it again.

The familiar rattle of the door handle rang as Kayla lifted her head to see Elijah and Sienna enter, having just finished their shifts at the hospital. She buried her pain and smiled widely at her friends.

“Hey guys! How was today?”

“It was pretty good but you seem to have had a harder day. What happened?”

Sienna’s soft eyes and nurturing smile made it harder for Kayla to hide the terrible things that happened today. Kayla’s face dropped as Sienna and Elijah made their way over to be beside Kayla as she opened up.

“Dr. Ramsey found out that I messaged Gwyneth to come to our hospital for treatment.”

Sienna and Elijah shared an anxious glance at Kayla’s despair. Both of them knew that Dr. Ramsey and Kayla had some semblance of a relationship so her depressed state was something much deeper as Sienna wrapped an arm around Kayla’s shoulder. Edenbrook was struggling from the budget cuts but Elijah knew that Kayla had a very good reason to go behind Dr. Ramsey’s back.

“Well, you did the right thing Kayla. You probably saved the diagnostics team.”

“I know it will but Dr. Ramsey doesn’t see it that way. He thinks that getting Gwyneth will pave the way for billionaires to get better care and soon the people that need help will be denied because they can’t afford it.”

“He’s wrong and we all know that this the only way to save the diagnostics team.”

“I know.”

The front door opens as Jackie strides through, sending a quick greeting to her friends before rushing into her room. Changing into her jeans and blue button shirt, coming back to the living room.

“Why aren’t you guys getting ready? Today Donnahue’s are doing a thirty percent discount for Edenbrook residents and doctors. The others are waiting for us there.”

Kayla wasn’t in the mood for a drink but deep down she had a feeling Ethan would be there. It was his usual haunt and she couldn’t face him after what he said to her. Sienna beamed as she stood up and nudged Kayla.

“Come on. A drink would you some good.”

“Sienna.”

“Nope! You’re coming with us or Jackie’ll drag you out.”

“And I will, Kayla.”

Kayla exhaled as she mumbled, groggily getting up and dragging her feet to her room. She stared into her closet, looking for something to wear. A knock rang on her door as she hummed, hearing steps come up beside her and she sees Sienna in a nice blue striped dress.

“What are you gonna wear Kayla?”

Kayla spotted something and pulled the hanger out to show Sienna. It was a plain blue sweater dress but Sienna shook her head vehemently. Kayla was not going to continue to wallow in her sadness as she yanked the dress and tossed it away to Kayla’s bed.

“Hey!”

“No! I’m not letting you dress up like that. Don’t let Dr. Ramsey get to you like that! Deep down, you know you’re right.” A small smile made a way to Kayla’s face as she couldn’t help but agree. It was the best decision she made and she doesn’t regret it one bit.

“I know.”

“Good! Now let’s wear something pretty and wreck the house tonight.” A bigger smile broke out on Kayla’s face as Sienna spotted the perfect outfit for Kayla. Stepping forward and pulling the hanger to show Kayla: a forest green satin wrap dress. It was perfect and sexy as Sienna brought out a black leather jacket and suede black ankle boots.

~~~~~~

There was a pep to her step as she entered the bar. Shaking off the cold outside air and she could see the bar bustling with residents and interns from Edenbrook. It was almost a full house as Kayla, Sienna, Elijah and Jackie brushed past people to get to their booth where Kyra, Rafael, Aurora and Bryce were sat, already having started with beer bottles in their hands. All eyes drew to Kayla as Bryce wolf whistled.

“Damn Kayla! You look like you’re ready to get laid.”

She rolled her eyes and sat next to Bryce, nudging his shoulder playfully.

“Next time, Bryce.”

Bryce smirked as he offered Kayla his drink, she took it and downed the rest as Jackie and Kyra bought a variety of drinks: shots of tequila and bottles of beer. Tonight, Kayla was going to forget and just lose control. After three shots of tequila, she could feel the light buzz coursing through her chest and all the knots of anxiety were slowly melting. Just as she was about to take her fourth shot, her eyes caught sight of a familiar green jacket and smooth back curly hair. The cloudy blue grey eyes and soft beard.

Ethan had entered the bar and it seemed his eyes were taken aback at seeing her. She looked exceptionally radiant and part of Ethan wanted to go over but he knew that he needed to keep away. She was a colleague and he still hasn’t forgiven her for what she did. He tore his eyes away and went to the bar to order his usual scotch. Kayla’s heart sagged as Ethan went away to the bar without even greeting her.

A chill vibrates through her as Kayla clutched her jacket closer as Bryce noticed the chill.

“Feeling cold?”

“A little.”

“I’m sure a little tequila will warm you up.”

She smiled and took another shot of tequila. The liquid courage lit a small fire as her eyes danced to the centre stage where two doctors drunkenly sang some cheesy eighties song. The tequila was meddling with her brain as she stood up and walked over to the karaoke stand.

The two doctors just finished up with their song as Kayla took centre stage, placing the mic in it’s holder stand and she scrolled through the songs list for karaoke. Her friends were too busy in their drinks when they heard a sultry tone rumble through the air. They frowned and turned towards the stage. Some of their eyes widened while others grew a big grin at the sight of Kayla standing tall and proud. Mic in her hand and a stool beside her.

Ethan felt a change in the music as his eyes were also drawn to the stage, his breath hitched in his throat as he spotted Kayla. No longer his intelligent colleague but a mystifying angel of lust. Her eyes connected with Ethan’s as her voice sang the first line.

I will never sacrifice my love, not even for you.

The tequila brought a husky tone that made her sound like a low hum of a jazz radio. Mellow and pleasing to the ears. Ethan furrowed his eyebrows with intrigue as Kayla set her gaze firmly on him. The bar patrons becoming a blur as she grasped the mic stand close to her.

You know I don’t play it safe

Sometimes you have to break the rules

Kayla was talking about what she did as Ethan straightened his posture. He never knew she could sing so well as Kayla raised an eyebrow at him. She knew he was watching her and the tequila in her soul was burning bright. Control was in her grasp as she let her fingers drag over her body, getting to the edge of her jacket and letting it slip off her shoulders.

Letting her satin emerald dress take the focus off her. All her friends were stunned from Kayla’s seductive display: Sienna and Aurora’s jaws dropped; Elijah had started recording this insane moment, and to show sober Kayla what happened; Kyra and Jackie cheering her on while Rafael and Bryce were entranced from her subtle movements.

Ethan felt the slight burn of anger murmur in him as he noticed every male gaze stick to Kayla but her eyes were on him. Part of him was jealous as he wanted to stride to the stage and take Kayla home, but another part of him was a little proud at her little display and that she was focused on him. He knew she had something to drink otherwise she wouldn’t have gone on stage and pulled that stunt off. She was baring everything to him and with that he sat rooted on his seat. Eyes taking in her hands over the sides of her hips.

He was still sat watching her, the glass of scotch in his deft hands and Kayla frowned slightly. Her act was getting nothing out of him.

We could call it love, or we could call it nothing

But you got what I want, you know I do, too

She was getting into the second chorus and her hips began swaying slowly like a metronome keeping in time with the steady beat of the song. He tensed slightly as Kayla let a smile reach her face as she finished the song off with a soft hum. The buzz of the tequila got absorbed into her mind as she straightened herself and bowed at the raucous applause.

The men jeered loudly and some women whooped. Kayla glanced at Ethan, his fingers were wrapped tightly around his glass and his gaze was a whispering chill over her body and soul. She sent a daring flirtatious wink at him before gliding towards her group of friends. Their voices clamoured over one another. Singing their praises and surprise at Kayla’s performance. She draped her jacket over the chair she sat in as she excused herself to head towards the restroom.

She was about to enter the ladies’ when a firm hand clasped her upper arm and yanked her in to a small dark room. Just as she was about to scream, the light came on and the grey eyed doctor was in front of her. Her heart pumped viciously as she leaned against the door of what seemed to be a supply closet. His presence surrounded her and she was surprised by the welcome chill that radiated from him. Ethan raised an eyebrow and suppressed a growl.

The dress looked even more silky and glowing as it sparkled against her dark skin. Her red ombre hair was done up in a braided bun which made her neck shine. Kayla looked like the radiant queen of an empire as she realised the gravity of where they were. Ethan had pulled her into a supply closet, just the two of him and the warmth of their bodies swirled in the air. He had risked someone seeing them as she stood tall against him.

“Ethan.”

“Jackson.”

“Still not calling me Rookie?”

“I’m still upset about what you did.”

“I’ve apologised many times and I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“Your performance said plenty.”

She shrugged a little at the slight gritted tone in his voice.

“Well I’ll say it one last time: I’m sorry I went behind your back and got Gwyneth to come to the hospital. If I were given the option, I’d do it again. It really was the only way to save Edenbrook.”

Unlike the previous apologies, this one had more vulnerability as Ethan peered deep into her brown eyes. He saw her fire and passion to help Edenbrook. This and her performance all accumulated to the fact that she was right. Despite the fact that it went against the principles of Naveen and the diagnostics team, it would be something Ethan would do. Something he already did as he signed a deal with Declan Nash to save Naveen.

Kayla did the exact same thing for a multitude of patients. He liked her determination to save people and his face softened. She was taken aback by the calmness in his eyes as his lips curled up to a neutral smile.

“I’m sorry, Kayla. You did the right thing. When all the other outcomes fail, sometimes the worst solutions can be the best. I’m glad you made the decision.”

Her cheeks warmed at his apology as she dropped her eyes down to his collar. Unable to look him in the eye as she mumbled.

“Thanks.” Ethan glanced down and scratched the back of his neck, the tense air now loose which left a slight serene calm in the air. Kayla furrowed her eyebrow and glanced back at the door. “Was that it or is there anything else?”

The performance. He wanted to tell her what he thought about her performance but it wasn’t right. She was a grown woman, who could do what she wanted. A woman that literally serenaded her desires to him in front of a bunch of resident doctors and her friends. He took a deep breath and opened up.

“Nothing else.”

“Wait! So you pulled me into a closet just to say you’re sorry.” He kept his mouth shut yet his silence was enough of an answer for her. “You know we could have had this conversation outside.”

“People might look a little deeper into our conversation.”

“Since when do you care about what people think?”

“I don’t but I know they’ll be surprised once I do this.”

He stepped closer to Kayla and leaned down to press his lips against hers. Letting his walls crumble down temporarily as his lips rubbed over hers, he could taste the tequila she had drank, it melted deliciously against the scotch he had. A low smell of cinnamon and grapefruit filled his nose as he breathed it in deeply. A perfume she often wore to work as it lifted from her, as the heat of the supply closet and their bodies caused her to slightly perspire.

It made her scent stand out more and he sunk deeper, pushing his tongue into hers to dance sensually. His eyes closed to let his senses elevate the tastes and scents of their bodies. Kayla felt her consciousness drift away as her hands came to rest on the sides of his waist. Her fingers pressed between the hem of the shirt feeling the soft cotton and his skin.

His fingers gently grasped her bare shoulders, his index looping under the thin strap of her wrap dress. Ethan pulled away as Kayla opened her eyes to finally look up at him. Desire and passion glowing in his eyes as her husky voice spoke.

“What does this mean?”

“You know, Rookie.”

His eyes spoke it all. The performance she put on and the decision she took, he was proud of her choices and a bigger grin took a hold of her face as she surged forward. One nimble hand curling the hair at the nape of his neck, the other sinking under his shirt to feel at his tender skin. Pulling him closer to trap her against the closet door and Ethan welcomed her initiative.

His left hand following the fold of her wrap dress, his fingers danced dangerously along the satin green and smooth skin. She let go as he hummed slowly.

“Can I carry on, Kayla?”

“Please, Ethan.”

Their lips reconnected as Ethan’s fingers dipped inside her dress, a deep groan tumbled out of his mouth as he felt her bare breasts pliable against his fingers. She arched further into his hand as her hand sunk under her shirt to feel the firm muscles and the thin trail of hair disappearing into his jeans.

“Kayla!”

“Ethan! I need you now!”

They didn’t have much time as the fear of someone discovering them loomed over the atmosphere. Ethan pressed his fingers down and dragged over her sternum, his fingers grazing against the soft fabric of her dress before disappearing under the hem of the dress. She let go and gasped at his strong fingers rubbing against her clit. A moan threatening to break out as she hissed.

“Stop teasing Ethan!”

A mischievous smirk curled on his lips as he yanked her underwear down, his fingers feeling the sticky wetness between the lips of her vagina.

“And what you were doing wasn’t teasing?”

He took his fingers away and pushed it in between his teeth, his tongue lapping at the sweet tanginess of her arousal. Kayla felt like she could die happy, Ethan moved her to press her cheek against the door. The metal of his belt opened and the flyer zipped down. Her breath hitched as she felt penis stroke over her thighs.

A slightly louder moan escaped her lips as Ethan brought the fingers he sucked on into her mouth. In the times they had slept together, he noticed she was a loud lover and despite him wanting to melt against her moans and grunts, he had to keep it quiet in order to avoid suspicion. Ethan sunk into her as he growled into her neck, she hummed into his fingers.

A delightful stretch through her core as his long cock pushed into her walls, her feet curled and her hands pressed on the door to ground herself. It had been a while since they were together as Ethan regretted pushing her away, trying to make up for it with his actions. He set a slow pace to state his stance with her. His right hand trailed up her body to lace with her fingers.

A familiar dance as Ethan rolled his hips to a gradual speed, rising and rising, harder and slightly faster. Their symphony of pleasure muffled into their bodies. Her saliva soaked his fingers as he brushed them down the dress and to her clitoris. Pulling, pinching and circling her erogenous zone. He unlaced his fingers to grasp her chin and bring it over her right shoulder.

Reconnecting his mouth to hers to absorb the sounds she was making, Ethan slowed his movements, opting to thrust deeper and faster which had her whine pathetically. A new sound that she’s made as Ethan couldn’t help but smirk at his prowess. One powerful thrust made Kayla fist the door and it tossed her over the edge as she stilled. Two slow thrusts later Ethan came as well as he pulled his lips away and sunk his teeth into her shoulder. The both of them twitched with pleasure as the tepid atmosphere came down to a cool breeze.

He unlatched his teeth from her shoulder to see a perfect circle of the indents his teeth made as he pressed and open mouthed kiss on it before pressing a short sweet kiss on Kayla’s lips as a soothing gesture. Slowly pulling his cock out of her, a bit of his semen ran down her legs as he carefully tucked himself back into his underwear, zipping up and putting the belt back on. There was a roll of tissue on a shelf as he quickly grabbed a few sheets and carefully cleaned Kayla up.

A dazed look glimmered in her face as she slowly turned around to rest her back on the wall, adoringly gazing at Ethan who had bent down to help her into her underwear, he glanced up with a soft smile. She balanced herself on his shoulders and stepped into the underwear, Ethan’s fingers grazing her legs as he stood up to secure her underwear in place. Pulling the hem of her dress down and fixing the collar of the dress. The both of them were semi presentable as Kayla wrapped her arms around his torso, pulling him close to breathe in his scent.

“I guess that means you liked my solo.”

“What gave it away, Rookie?” She said nothing but pressed a small kiss to his lips, whispering a small thanks to him. “Again, I’m sorry I was hard on you about Gwyneth.”

“And I’m sorry I went behind your back. From now on, we discuss my ill ideas.”

“Agreed.”

As much as the both of them wanted to stay in one another’s’ arms, they knew that the real world was waiting for them. Where they couldn’t be together like they were now. Ethan reluctantly stepped away and cleared his throat.

“You better go first. I’ll come out in a bit.”

“See you tomorrow, Ethan.”

“Rookie.”

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little-ligi · 3 years

Text

Febuwhump - No.24

No.24 - Memory Loss Fandom - BBC Merlin Worcount - 1097 @febuwhump

Lancelot was sitting on the edge of Merlin’s bed, his hands clasped behind his head, which was pulled down low to his chest. His shoulders were shaking. Merlin longed to reach out to him. To touch him. But Lancelot flinched every time anyone got too close. Instead he sat down in the chair beside the bed, pulling his pillow into his lap and hugging it.

“Lancelot?” he said softly.

Slowly his friend raised his head. His dark eyes, which were brimming with tears, met Merlin’s for a fraction of a second before dipping down again. Merlin’s heart ached.

It was two weeks since Merlin had managed to free Lancelot’s soul from Morgana’s control, and several days since Lancelot had properly spoken. He was having trouble remembering things. Things that should have been second nature to him, memories that had shaped who he was as a person.

Continue reading on Ao3, FF.net or below! 👇

Morgana had given him enough knowledge to pass as the Lancelot they had all known, but she didn’t know how to make him the real Lancelot. Gaius thought that his true memories might be buried somewhere deep within his mind and that with time they would resurface, but for the moment the other knights and Merlin were just trying to fill in as many blanks as they could.

Unfortunately, spending large chunks of time being told things that he should have already known – wracking his brain for the memories that should have been there to link up with the stories the knights told him – was taking its toll on the newly resurrected man. He often retreated to Merlin’s rooms to hide from the others, and more often than not Merlin discovered him weeping into his hands.

Like now. Merlin dragged his chair closer, so his knee was almost touching Lancelot’s, his hands gripping tight to the pillow in his lap to stop them from reaching out to his friend.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly.

Lancelot shook his head, not looking up. He let out a shuddery sigh.

“It’s too much…” he rasped out, his voice breaking as tears washed down his face. He pressed his hands to his eyes, gulping back the sobs threatening to overtake him again. “I’ve lost too much. I’m not me anymore.”

“Lancelot.” Merlin slowly reached forwards, he couldn’t help himself, his hand hovering over Lancelot’s for a second before he grasped it. Lancelot jerked slightly, an involuntary habit he had developed ever since he came back, and then his hand tensed in Merlin’s, latching on and holding tight as if it was a lifeline.

“I don’t remember…” He gulped. “I don’t remember who I am.”

“You’re my best friend. You’re the noblest knight. You’re Arthur’s champion, Leon’s right hand man. You’re Percival’s confidante. You’re Gwaine’s partner and Elyan’s anchor. You’re –”

Lancelot cut him off before he could say any more.

“I’m not those things anymore. I was… but now…” Fresh tears streamed down his face.

“You’ll always be my best friend,” Merlin argued, shuffling forwards in the chair so his knees bumped Lancelot’s, his other hand coming up to cup his shoulder, holding him steady as he flinched. “No matter what. And all of the rest is still in your heart.”

Stiffly, Lancelot leant forwards, leaning more into Merlin’s touch, his forehead almost touching Merlin’s.

Up close, Merlin could see the turmoil swirling in his dark eyes, the usual deep intensity of his gaze marred by confusion and sorrow. He’d give anything to clear the fog of doubt from Lancelot’s mind.

“I can’t find it… I’m too empty, too hollow, Merlin. I feel so hollow.”

“No,” Merlin said firmly, squeezing his hand. “You’re not hollow.” He put as much weight into his voice as he could, desperate to make Lancelot believe in himself as much as he did. “You’ll find yourself again, I promise.”

Lancelot gave Merlin’s hand a squeeze, letting his forehead come to rest against his friend’s.

“Tell me something, Merlin,” he pleaded. “Tell me something I should know. Something important. Please.” His voice was desperate.

Merlin bit his lip, feeling his eyes start to prickle with tears. He’d been yearning to tell Lancelot about his magic again, but had held off so far because he felt it was too big of a weight to place around Lancelot’s already unsteady shoulders. Too much to take in among the torrents of uncertainty that clouded his memory.

“Please, Merlin,” he begged and Merlin’s resolve collapsed.

“I have magic,” he whispered. Lancelot didn’t respond and Merlin couldn’t stop himself from rambling on. “You were the only one of my friends here who knew. You always stood by me. I didn’t have to lie around you. I miss that so much…” His voice caught in the lump in his throat. He let out a sob, pressing against Lancelot, grasping his shoulder, sliding his hand up to the back of his neck.

“Bregdan anweald…” Lancelot breathed. It was so quiet Merlin almost thought he had imagined it; his memory supplying the phrase from the first time Lancelot had muttered it to him, in the corridor outside the throne room, so happy, so accepting.

But Lancelot’s face had frozen, a glint of recognition in his eyes, even as he pulled back from Merlin to study his face intently.

“What was…?” His eyes darted anxiously between Merlin’s, like he was desperately grasping for answers.

“Say that again,” Merlin murmured, shifting forwards to the edge of his seat, a bubble of excitement swelling in his chest.

“I can’t…. I don’t know….” He looked confused, like the words had been drawn from his subconscious and he couldn’t quite catch them again.

“Bregdan anweald gafeluc,” Merlin said, his heart hammering.

“Bregdan…” Lancelot repeated, wonder filled his voice and a true smile broke over his face. “Y-You have magic,” he said shakily, happily. It wasn’t a question. It was a memory, stated with certainty.

“Yes!”

Merlin threw himself forwards into Lancelot’s arms. Lancelot tensed briefly but quickly relaxed and pulled him closer, gripping the back of Merlin’s shirt.

“I remember…” he huffed out a tiny laugh into the crook of Merlin’s neck. “The griffin… the lance…”

“Yes,” was all Merlin could mutter, again and again. “Yes!”

Lancelot tightened his arms around Merlin’s back, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.

“Thank you, Merlin. For trusting me.”

“Of course.” They pulled back from the hug, their hands still resting on each other’s shoulders. Merlin met Lancelot’s gaze, pleased to see it had a spark of happiness in it now. “I’ll always trust you, Lancelot. And I’ll help you remember yourself, I promise.”

#febuwhump2021 #febuwhumpday24 #bbc merlin fanfiction #lancelot lives #angst #hurt/comfort #emotional hurt #lancelot du lac #memory loss #could be mercelot #ligi writes #a day late #but still going

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