#half the time i pass just by having short hair and walking with my belly puffed out it’s ridiculously easy

[hamiltonells]

pieces of us~max Verstappen

pairings:max verstappen x reader

warnings: pregnancy,swearing,smut,max bring a simp, time skips,bad writing, please note that the time it takes place is kinda everywhere. literally bad bad bad smut writing

summary: you always wanted to become a mother, now the time has come.

also, please request any dad!max universe ideas:)

side note: I hate my writing so much, I think I need to do it from different pov, but it’s horrible, so enjoy this crap writing

you always dreamed of becoming a mother, watching your own mother doing such a good job probably didn't help, you would always find yourself daydreaming about what it would be like to have a mini you running about.

you met max through Daniel, max was and still is everything you looked for in a man, you don't think you met anyone quite as prefect than him, that was five years ago.

now, your eight months heavily pregnant and let's just say you didn't think pregnancy or motherhood was going to like this, you can't walk, you waddle, half of the time your confused on what your feeling with you hormones messing you about, moodiness, also the constant hunger.

still saying that you loved it, nothing comes close to the feeling if you little of kicking around inside you and let's just say max? he more than loved it.

~

“fuck” max grunted as he rounded the corner of your living room “fucking stupid wall” he grunted again as he hit his toe on the wall, he could hear your laugh when he finally reached you.

“you won’t be laughing if I dropped you ice cream would you” he sweetly smiled at you sarcastically as you smile dropped as he passes you the bowl of different flavours of ice cream.

it was incredibly hot, too hot for you liking as you was spread out on the sofa in maxs shorts and a crop top, showing your belly the heat was killing you let’s say hot weather and pregnancy didn’t go together,the small fan max found in your guys loft pointing at you.

max sits down next to you, in nothing but his shorts his shirtless body showing each of his little freckles that he has.

“hello you” max puts his his hands on you bump, your little one immediately kicks, maxs leans down and kisses you stomach, his beard rough against you belly and you let out a giggle as he kisses all the way up you body, untill he gets to you lips and double kissing them.

“don’t forget we have the red bull party this week” you hum to your love as he drops his head cuddling into you bump, max sighs “ we don’t have to go, your eight months y/n/n, don’t want you to be on your feet long and get tired” he explains, “max we’re going” you laugh as you put your hand through his hair.

~

“Je ziet er prachtig uit”max says while wrapping his arms around your waist, soothing the silk dress you have on.

(you look beautiful)

max has a all black suit on, the white crisp shirt underneath his tie around his neck he looks handsome as always, you have a dark deep blue silk dress on perfectly hugging your stomach.

“can you do my tie for me please love” he asks as you turn yourself to face him, you reach around his neck to do it, you smile widely when he smothers kisses all over your face.

“please don’t tell me you wearing them” he sighs as he sees the stiletto heels on your bed you just smile at him.

max doesn’t seem to understand why you wear heels while pregnant they hurt you and you always complain that you feet ache without the stupid heels but to you, heels make you feel beautiful still and that you can show people you not actually letting you self to while pregnant.

“don’t complain please max” you state not wanting to get into another argument about the heels.

“we’re going to be late” you rushed and you slipped you heels on ans done then up and around you ankle.

~

“max y/n welcome” Christian welcomed you as you step in to the restaurant, it was only supposed a small party get together, friends and family but Christian had rented out a fancy restaurant.

you greet him, giving him a side hug, you belly slightly getting in the way, “not long to go now eh” he glimpses at your stomach.

“hopefully, can’t wait to meet the little guy” max chuffed, your head spin around to him “sexiest, how do you know it’s a boy?” you joke with him, you wanted it to be a surprise, you wanted a home birth with just you and max and midwife you trusted deeply.

the music was quite loud, you could see Daniel rushing to get to the two of you “there you are” he expressed as he went in for a hug “my favourite verstappen” he said as he presses a kiss to you cheek, “aye” max snapped “what about me” he said.

“close third” Daniel mumbled, to impressed and busy rubbing at your stomach “my favourite is really the little one” he said as he bent up straight again, going over and giving max a brotherly hug.

“let’s get you sat down” max said when you winced at the aching pain in you feet “zei dat je die verdomde dingen moest dragen” he rants to himself as he guides you with an arm around you waist, to you seat at the table, seeing you names on the nicely decorated table.

told you not to wear the fucking things

he softly sat you down on the chair, bending down to undo you heels “mmh you need a haircut” you softly speak as you dive your hand into his hair, he carefully slipped you heel off “I wanna keep them on” you mumble to yourself and max “and I want you to listen to me” he grunted, max always knew what was best for you and what you wanted it.

you hum when he starts to massage you swollen and aching feet, “max no, people are here” you say embarrassed “I don’t care, if people have a problem then fuck them” you smiled as a warmth spread through you.

he slipped them back on “keep them on for a bit while we are sat down” he looks up at you and smiles you give him a peck on the cheek, “I love you”

truth be told, even though you always wanted a baby and experience motherhood you and max didn’t plan it, at time max won his second world championship you both agreed that it wasn’t the right time, but in reality it was the perfect time.

you remember the night it happened as it brings a smile to your face “what you smiling about” you hear maxs rough but soft voice next to you snap yourself out of your memory, you laugh “the game room” those three words out a devilish smirk on your lovers face.

“the night this one happened” you could hear the smirk through this voice as his hand goes from your thigh to your bump.

Y/N pulled away, a string of saliva connecting them as she looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. max picked her up and held her on his hip, pinching her thigh.

"What did I tell you," dropping her on the small sofa max had put in the room,and crawled on top of her, "about being a brat?" His eyes were wild with anger and lust and love.

you had been teasing him all night while he had been streaming, “neuk me, je bent zo mooi” his dutch coming out of his naturally while his hand goes don’t your thigh and pushing himself down so that he’s between your thighs.

fuck me your so beautiful

groaning when his fingers hovered over the damp material of your underwear, pressing lightly against it as he inspected how wet you were, pressing a kiss to them then removing them roughly.

your hands went flying to his hair for something to pull when when he licked up your folds without warning chewing on you lip to hold the moans, he added his finger teasing your cilt, curling his fingers then max’s mouth covered your clit and you trembled.

“this for me baby?" Y/N nodded, her lips parting, "Tell me who's it for “know you can do it." your back arched, “yours, you max”

“that’s my girl”

“Need you maxie“ that’s all he needed to hear, pushing himself so he can reach you, burying his mouth against your neck as he reaches between you, guiding his thick cock into your heat.

“oh mijn verdomme”he bites down on your shoulder,he mutters a few curses, you once again arch your back running your fingers down his back your nails drawing blood on his back.

oh my fucking

his thrusts became more rough grasping your waist for support he deeply pushes him self into before your both come undone at the same time, his hole body dropping down onto you.

“that was a good night” his smirk growing wider, you lean so your side so that your head lays on his shoulder, your arm wrapped around his, you had finished you meal and was just chatting.

“come and dance with me” he whispered into your ear you looked at max surprised “max babe, I’m eight months pregnant and I waddle when I walk I also struggle to hug you” you said while sniggering.

“shush stop complaining”he got up and pushed his chair out of the way while bending down to undo your heels for the second time this night and leaving them on your seat.

he pulled you up to the little dance floor where the soft music was playing. a couple of familiar faces smile at the two of you, you felt the little squeeze he gave you as he held the way stoping when he pulled you into him your arm immediately going around his waist and your hand slotting into his”can’t wait for our little family” you hear him whisper into your ear,you smile up at him “we love you so much” you speak for yourself and you little one, you can’t wait this is what you dreamed of when you was a little girl.

you give him a look when he slightly stretches his arms out making you do the same, he gives you a twirl and pulls you back into him and his hands land in you hips to pull you up so you give him a kiss.

“it’s been a long night let’s go” he says when you both pull apart, him directing you though the crowd of people to get your stuff and heels, you say your goodbyes to everyone, max puts his jacket over your shoulders, heels in his one hand while you walk out of the restaurant, the first thing you expect to hit you was the chilly air but you was far wrong, the first thing that did hit you was bright flashes, max moves so your behind him, covering you.

when you do finally make it home you sit straight down onto the sofa, you noticed a slight pain in your stomach your hands go straight to your bump.

yell for max who comes rushing down stairs with a pair of his shorts and shirt in his hands “what’s happening” he looks so panicked, “think we’re going to have this baby” as you explain about the contractions “oh my, fuck,shit” he looks around for his phone, he’s now in a comfortable pair of shorts and a black shirt.

he helps you get changed in to your well his comfortable clothes.

your walking around the kitchen while max is on the phone to the midwife, Eva,saying that your contractions are now six minutes long.

you look at him, as he smiles you looks down just as the same time he does to feel a wet feeling down your legs.

max is there though quick to rush down and take his shorts of you and clear the mess that’s on the floor.

“awe okay” you say breathing heavily “it’s hurting a lot more now” leaning on the kitchen side, max comes behind you slightly rubbing and giving you back a relief “she’s on her way, won’t be long angel”

“whooh that one hurts” as you lean back into him, holding the side.

max guides you to the living room and onto the sofa “you ok, you comfortable” you completely ignore him “you look handsome” you softly express “thank you” he laughs and pulls you into a kiss.

the door bells pulls you both apart as max rushes to get the door “see how quick that was”

is little while later, max is behind your on your bed,sheets underneath you with everything that your midwife needs around you.

“oooh I can’t do it” you half cry and half whine as you push, “ don’t talk stupid, your the strongest women I know baby, let’s meet our little one yeah, you need to push” max softly strokes your cheek.

“attagirl, that’s good” the midwife explains.

you push you everything you have, as you grip maxes hand, you groan in pain.

your met with a cry, the relief comes over you,, “she’s perfect” the midwife tells you both.

you look up at max, a little girl.

“oh my god, a little girl, my little girl” max speaks as he kisses the side of your head.

your little girl is placed right on your chest.

“got both of my girls now”

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen smut #max verstappen #smut #formula 1 #charles leclerc x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewishamilton #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton #toto wolff x reader #formula one #lewishamilton x reader #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel ricciardo smut

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Curtis And Honey Autumn This Or That 🍂

Week Five: Baking Cookies or Eating Pie

Summary- Short Drabble. Curtis Everett x Plus!sized Reader. You get introduced to pie so good it has to be eaten after sex.

Warnings- Smut.

This is an 18+ Only Blog.

Curtis and Honey This or That Masterlist

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet Masterlist

You gasped into the pillow, crying Curtis’s name into the fluffy bedding as your back arched a bit more, your ass pushing up with your last bit of strength and Curtis’s tight hold on your waist somehow keeping you in position. 

“Fuck Honey, FUCK. You're just strangling me.” Behind you, Curtis pounded against you, your pussy tightening while his cock pushed back in, the squelch of your arousal loud in the bedroom among the pounding of his thighs against the back of yours. “Shit.” He cussed loudly, his fingers digging in harder and jerking you back to meet him harshly, your body jiggling with the impact.

You scrambled almost like you were going to pull away, tightening your hold into the bed sheets and biting at the pillow as another orgasm broke your senses, tremors racing through your spine and making you quake in the pleasure you were feeling. 

You felt Curtis speeding up behind you, jerking you more into the pillows till his warmth flooded your throbbing pussy and his weight pressed over your back behind you with a groan near your ear as he buried his face against your neck. He jerked his hips against you a few more times, his cock twitching deep inside of you as he simmered in his own happy ending. 

You let yourself sink into the mattress, the sheets half pulled up and twisted all over the place, you chose to ignore that the bed was gonna have to be put back together at some point before the night was out. Your head twisted so you could breathe again, no longer burying your face into the pillows. Heavy pants from both of you filled the darkened room, each of you trying to catch your breath. 

Curtis eased off you with a groan, collapsing onto his back next to you, his chest heaving up and down while he grinned at nothing in general, his eyes closed while he continued enjoying all the sensations. 

“That was…” You pushed up a bit to your elbows, stretching out a bit. 

“Fucking good, perfect, mind-blowing. Fuck Honey, I didn’t think I was gonna last.” Curtis’s voice was gruff, in a satisfied way that made you ease over next to him, letting your head lay on his chest, his touch brushing through your hair, brushing it from your face. 

“Mmhm, yes it was just like that. I didn’t think I was gonna either, how many was that even?” 

“Shit, I dunno… you came a few times before I did.” His head tilted enough to watch you stretching out next to him with a moan while nodding in confirmation. 

“Yeah, you trying to break me?” You groaned while tracing your fingers along a tattoo on his belly, feeling him chuckle from deep in his chest. 

“Just trying to make sure to do my duties as your lover, that's all.” 

You snorted in laughter, pushing to sit up a bit and lean over him to press a kiss to him. “Consider your duties met Sir.” 

He caught the back of your neck in a calloused hand, pulling you back to his mouth to kiss you deeper, tongue and teeth teasing each other, and shallow gasps passed between the two of you. He grunted against your mouth, his fingers flexing in their hold on you. “Give me ten minutes and I will be ready again.” 

You giggled, pushing off him enough to sit and stretch your arms over your head, arching a bit while he checked you out. You were trying to make more of an effort not to hide your body from him, and the darker room gave you enough security to feel confident in letting him look at you. “I might need more than ten minutes.” 

“Take as long as you need Honey.” He too rolled up to sit and stand. This had to be your reward, cause watching him walk around naked, the flex of his muscles in his back shifting down to a tight ass and powerful thighs, you suddenly felt ready again. “Be right back.” 

“Be right back?” You shouted from the bed, listening to the thump of his feet going down the stairs. “You told me just ten minutes and you're ready again, how are you even walking around right now.” 

You tilted your head, listening for what he was doing downstairs. You almost suspected that he might be getting some water, but never heard the tap go off, or perhaps he was checking the wood stove was full for the rest of the night. Soon the creak of the stairs sounded back and Curtis came into the bedroom with a tupperware container in his hands. “You told me you needed longer Pretty Girl, you should be the one resting, not me..” He collapsed back onto the bed, leaning back against the headboard while popping the top off the container. “And I just remembered Tanya hooked us up with a slice of her apple pie.” 

He broke a fork into the tip of the pie, scooping out a bite while you wriggled over to his side, getting comfy next to him. “So you figured we should eat pie in bed while waiting for round two?” 

“Hell yes, this pie also needs to be savored after what just happened, trust me. Best pie you will ever try.” He held out that first bite and you let your lips spread over the fork, teeth dragging off the sugary sweet treat, apple notes and buttery crust bursting across your tongue in a very decadent way. Curtis was correct and as you chewed, Curtis took a bite, letting his head fall back with a groan of another kind of pleasure rumble from him. “See what I mean? Pie should just be enjoyed after some really good sex.” 

You laughed, stealing another bite from him, your tongue catching bits of pie crust off your lips. “Okay Dean Winchester, what did you do with Curtis?” You teased, yelping when he growled and twisted you to pin you down on the bed under him, offering you another bite of the pie he somehow managed to hold onto. 

“Pretty Girl, Dean Winchester couldn’t ever be nearly as lucky as I am right now.”

#curtis and honey #curtis and honey autumn this or that #curtis everett and reader #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett and you #curtis everett x you #curtis everett and plus!sized reader #curtis everett x plus!sized reader #curtis everett au #curtis everett fanfiction #chris evans characters #amber writes #sweater writes

[billthedrake]

ORAL FIXATION (PART FOUR)

It was Dad's idea but I don't know why I hadn't thought of it. He didn't even bring it up with me in advance. Instead he sprung it one night at dinner.

"So..." Dad said to Mom as we ate. "Junior's gonna help me get in shape. "

Mom laughed and looked over at me. "Is that so?"

I played dumb, like I knew what Dad was talking about. "Um, yeah."

"He's letting me tag along on his morning runs," Dad chimed in before I stumbled too much. "And we have a whole gym workout planned, too."

Mom seemed surprised and amused. Dad was a good looking guy with some solid muscle on him, but he spent a lot of time at work, and though he was on his feet most of the day, a doctor doesn't have the most active job.

She looked back and forth between me and Dad. "Well, good for you men," she said, smirking some.

***

I felt a little bad, because I had a good idea what Dad had on his mind. We were both up early the next morning, a little before dawn even. I'd seen Dad in his gym clothes before, but it had been a while, to be honest. But they showed off his hairy meaty legs as we did stretches in the driveway, feeling the cool morning air.

"Where you run to, son?" he asked.

I told him my route and the distance I normally did. We lived a half mile from a park with a nice trail system, so it gave me some variety. "We don't have to do the whole thing, Dad," I said, pulling back my heel to my glutes for that extra stretch, then the other leg. "Just let me know what you're feeling."

"I'm a little out of shape," he admitted. "But I'll keep up."

He did, too. Pretty well, though I knew my pace was faster than his. I slowed down some, but I had that teenage energy working for me. I looked over at him after a couple of miles, and he looked at me.

"Doing OK, Pop?" I asked.

He nodded, a little of breath. "Yeah, Junior."

Only his eyes were on me. Probing, and more than a little hungry. We were circling in the wooded area of the park, and had only passed two joggers so far. The way my father looked at me excited me and gave me a half-stiff dick even mid stride. "You want it, Dad?" I asked quietly.

"Um, yeah," he said, nodding excitedly.

We slowed our gait to a trot and a walk, then I followed as he led us into the woods and behind a larger tree.

I stood and pulled down my shorts as his fingers traced along my bare thighs, his eyes fixed eagerly on my crotch, awaiting his next meal.

Before that morning, I knew Dad was an incredible cocksucker, and I knew we had that forbidden-thrill bond of his blowjobs. But that day I realized just how much Dad needed my cum, how addicted he was to blowing me.

The tree bark was a little scratchy, but I leaned back to steady myself as Dad took me into his mouth. No foreplay really, just nice steady mouth strokes up and down, working extra length down his gullet as he got into it.

I got into it, too, cradling his head gently and silently coaxing him to work my load out. I could see the silver flecks in his brown hair. Respectable doctor on his knees for a hot no-recip incest blowjob.

"Yes," I hissed. I knew we had to be quiet, but I missed talking to Dad while he sucked me. But this was naughty and hot, and I knew we were both worked up. Dad let out his own soft moan around my cock as my dick spurted its first salvo of precum. It had taken only a minute and wouldn't be much longer for the full cum, not given how horny I always am in the morning.

Dad worked me more rigorously, deep and with high suction. And doing something with his tongue. That did it. I curled my fingers in his hair and held tightly as I blasted hard. A good seven or eight spurts of his son's seed right into his craw and straight into his belly. Dad sucked it down gratefully.

He didn't belabor the aftershocks but gave my wet dick a gentle kiss as he pulled off, then looked up and winked at me. I could see he was erect when he stood up, but true to form he didn't make any move for reciprocation.

"Maybe that'll slow you down," he whispered with a laugh.

I pulled up my shorts and laughed back.

By the time we got back, Dad's hardon had gone down and I felt more ready for my day than ever. It was surprisingly matter of fact between us, even, as we did our cool-down stretches and talked about how the run was for Dad, what his goal was.

"Tomorrow, same time, buddy?" he asked, giving my shoulder a light punch as we walked into the kitchen to rehydrate.

I'd been in a conditioning phase for football but generally aimed for running every other day. But if Dad was gonna be my running buddy, I'd make it every day for sure.

***

We skipped some mornings, but I got used to the ritual. I was a horny jock, and it was just mindblowingly great to have a fatherly blowjob to start most days. Jake Gehring made a crack about me being in a good mood lately, but for some reason I wasn't sure I should share the development with his buddy. I'm not sure why.... Dad had sucked Jake a couple of times and given my friend's moods when he showed up at school, I'm sure Mr. Gehring was giving him the same treatment.

I wasn't being greedy, honest, the escalation just kind of happened. Dad had drained me good and well on our morning run, but around 7 o'clock that evening, he knocked on my door and stepped in, barechested and wearing just a pair of shorts. God, he was looking incredible with his lightly furred chest and muscle showing its pump from his workout in our basement home gym. And there was those clean-cut, professional looks. Hot doctor with a secret side.

"Your mother just left for her book club," he announced with a playful grin. "You up for a blow job?"

I liked this side of Dad. Matter of fact. Sexual. Needy.

"Hell yeah," I smiled. "If you're offering." I'd gotten off big that morning, Dad always gets me off big. But I was a teen, and I had a pretty high sex drive.

"I'm offering," he grinned back, stepping in and closing the door. "Though maybe we can take our time." He got up on the bed and ran his hands up my legs. Dad seemed to really like my legs, or maybe that was his way of foreplay to get me going.

"You want me to last longer?" I asked. Maybe not insecure but feeling like a young guy with a lot to learn about sex. "You get me so worked up, it's sometimes hard to last," I admitted.

Dad chuckled. "I like that, Junior," he said. "I love when you cum fast... but I was thinking it would be fun to edge you a little tonight.... I mean, we have the time to play."

I knew what edging was, but never had really done it. I was usually too impatient to cum. "Sounds hot, Dad."

And like that my father scooted up and cautiously met me for a kiss. We'd kissed before, but not much. I got the sense Dad only let himself do it when he was really horny. He was really horny now, I could tell by the feel of his boner in his shorts, pressing against mine.

I fucking loved it, though. I mean, I love kissing in general and making out with Dad was a mind fuck and a half that made my cock drip big time.

We both laughed as we broke the kiss. Like we'd gotten carried away.

"You OK with this, Junior?" Dad asked.

I ran my hands along his bare flank, feeling his warmth and firm muscle beneath the middle age softness. "Dad... you're fucking sucking my cock every day... of course I'm gonna be OK with this."

I worried I was too direct, but Dad just chuckled. "You're a horny kid all right," he said. Now his fingers ran underneath my T-shirt, feeling up my bare muscle. "And I'm VERY happy to take care of my hot young man." From anyone else that would have sounded slutty, but from Dad, it was just weirdly paternal and hot.

I gulped. "God, Dad."

"You'd say if we were doing this too much, right?" he looked in my eye, even as his fingers now ran beneath the elastic waistband of my mesh shorts.

I gulped and nodded. My cock lurched, feeling the aching closeness of his hand. It was like it had been 12 days since I'd last gotten off, not 12 hours. "Trust me, Dad... if anything it's the opposite."

That made him pause and look right into my eye. "You want it more, Junior."

My throat felt dry and I felt hot and sexual. "Fuck, Dad," I didn't normnally curse like that around my father, but something about the blowjobs changed the dynamic. "I don't mean it like what you're doing for me isn't enough... but yeah, I think about it a lot."

Dad peeled down my shorts, taking my briefs with them. My hardon was bared for him, throbbing and rigid. He took a second to openly admire it. Like he did each morning on our runs, but instead of a second to get a look, he had as much time as he wanted. We didn't need to rush this.

"We'll figure out a way, buddy," he said. "Put you on the twice a day plan," he winked. Then more softly he growled. "Damn, I love your cock so much son."

His fingers now traced my length slowly, openly, his eyes going from my dick and back up to meet my gaze. His blowjobs were incredible, but there was something powerful and intimate about this, too.

"Um, Dad," I said, a little nervous.

He looked back up at me. "Yeah, buddy?" In that you-can-ask-me-anything tone he'd use in our father-son chats.

Here goes. "I notice you rarely get off yourself," I said.

Dad seemed prepared for my comment, like he was surprised I hadn't asked him before. "I like to save it for your mother, Junior," he answered. "Makes me feel less guilty about what we're doing." Then fixing my gaze... "Too much information?"

I shook my head. "All good, Dad. Just wanna make sure.... you know... I don't wanna be an asshole or anything."

"We're good, son," Dad said, giving my bone a steadier stroke now. "Truth is, it's my way of edging, too.... can't get enough."

I sat up on my elbows, looking down. I wanted him to suck me so bad now. "Anytime you want it, Dad, just let me know. For real... I'm always horny."

Dad didn't reply but just moistened his lips. Then he leaned over and took my stick in between his surprisingly soft lips. At some point I'd have to ask him where he learned to suck dick so well. But that could wait. For now, I just enjoyed the feel of his warm wet mouth making love to my prick. Up and down, bobbing with fuller strokes till he was deep throating me.

"Dad!" I cried. I knew I'd cum any second.

Dad pulled off instantly and attacked my balls. It was the perfect stimulation, but one that fed my lust without making me boil over. He did this for a minute than took my whole cock on again.

Edging or not, we could only go a couple of times at this before my load had a mind of its own. As Dad was making his retreat from my dick, I was already firing against his tongue. My ejaculation caught him by surprise but he went back into full on milking mode to suck my balls dry.

"Sorry, Dad," I said as he finally came up from my lap.

Dad grinned. "Not a problem, son.... was it good?"

"The best," I answered. "I just know you wanted to go longer tonight."

Dad scooted up to lie beside me. "Well, your mother will be out till about 10...." he reached down and ran his fingers along my spit and cum wet half-hard dong. "You think maybe you got another in you?"

I smirked back at him. "I'd say so, Dad... definitely."

#drakestories

[bunnydexterloveselvis]

Hiiii and welcome ✨🔆 If you are accepting prompts can i request one please, would you write cuddly fluff and / or agere with a baby BDE? especially a sick fic with a cg reader! Thank you ✨✨✨

Oh my god!!!!!!!!!!!! You're the first one to request a prompt!!! Thank you sooo much!!! Of course I'll write it!! How could I pass up such an amazing request? So cute!!! I've never wrote sick fics before so I'll try my best!!

Sick little baby.. (Agere!Big Daddy Elvis x reader)

summary: //elvis wakes up with a cold, is age regressed, and has you as his caregiver

type of fic: //age regression, tooth-rotting fluff, sickfic

warnings: //being sick?? the symptoms mentioned are sneezing, coughing, headache, mild fever, etc. no vomiting or anything like that. also it's pretty mild. he just sleeps it off, cuddling????? idk some people don't like being cuddled i guess, baby talk?? i don't think there's any serious warnings here besides being sick and age regression

word count: //675 (six-hundred and seventy-five) words

It was a fresh day, and you wake up in the morning, it’s around 8am. You look over at your sweet boy who is still sleeping. “What a cutie,” you thought to yourself. You chuckled and got out of bed to make breakfast. About 15 minutes later you come back, with Elvis still asleep in the bed. You smile warmly.

“Wake up, baby,” you whisper in his ear. He shuffles around a bit and lets out a whine. His eyes flutter open and he pouts. “Mamaaa- ’m sweepy!!!” He rolls onto his back. Oh. He woke up little! You almost giggle from how cute he is. He then sneezes three times and sniffles. “got da sneezies,” He mutters, with a short, reassuring giggle. Then he coughs a bunch. “Um, little one, are you okay??” You ask, caressing his shoulder. He looks up at you with sparkling eyes but very wet eyes. “M-mama I don’ feew so.. Good..” He wipes his forehead trickling with sweat, along with that, his soft chubby cheeks are red and his eyes are half-lidded.

He’s sick. But he has a concert today! “Awww.. What are we going to do?,” you thought. You’ll have to cancel it today. Can’t do a concert if you’re sick! So you make a call to explain that E is sick, and has to cancel the concert today. After that trouble, you run back to him. “Mamaaa…” he cries and makes grabby hands at you, implying he wants something. “What is it, E, baby??” you chuckle a bit from his overexpressed tone of voice. “Mmm.. t-tummy hurts..” he forces out while clenching his hands on his soft belly. “Awwww.. It’ll be okay. Mommy’s gonna help make your tummy feel better in no time!,” you tell him, sitting down next to him, massaging circles on his sore stomach. He looks up at you with the prettiest, sparkliest eyes ever. “Weawwy?” he asks softly. A small smile appears on his face. “Wiww mama make tummy free bettew?” “Of course honey, but you need to rest, I’ll be back with some stuff to keep you busy while I make you stuff to help you feel better! Sounds okay?” You murmur, making sure you don’t scare him. He gets scared when he hears loud noises, and you took note of that as soon as you found out. “Mhm!” he nods. You find his toybox and his paci and take it to him, pop the paci in his mouth while ruffling his hair very gently, remember he has a headache too.

So you give him all his gear, and as you walk away to go make him soup for his tummy, he cries out, “Mamaaa!! Don’ leave!!” You sigh. “E, baby, I have to make you soup so you’ll feel better. Do you wanna take the yucky red-coloured spoon medicine?” you threaten “No!! No yucky stuff!! Just wan’ mama..” he frowns and looks down. You slowly approach him and run your fingers through his hair, which usually calms him down. It did. He buries his face in your chest while hugging you tight. “I-I wuv you mama” he says into you. Making you smile sympathetically, you say, “Okay.. I’ll lie down and nap with you, but the first hurt noise I hear from you, I am getting the medicine,” half jokingly. He pouts as a joke, making you giggle. 

You pet his hair while trying not to get sick yourself. His eyes get half-lidded and sleepy. You pet his forehead in an attempt to calm his headache. It worked, weirdly, more like distracted him from his headache to your soothing touch. Elvis practically did something similar, he held you, his mama, close. Never letting go. Planting a kiss on his cheek, you whisper sweet nothings into his ear to lull him into a nap. Afterwards you make him some chicken noodle soup for when he wakes up in case he gets hungry.

You really hope he naps for a while, because you can’t seem to get this can of chicken soup open.

(i don't feel like this is good enough, i feel like it's too vague. let me know if you like it!! It was a teensy bit rushed and i wrote half of it when sleepy)

#elvis presley #elvis #dexter.txt #dexter posts #elvis x reader #big daddy elvis #70s elvis #elvis fandom #<3 #elvis the king #age regression #agere #sickfic #caretaking #agere fic #fic request

[importantchaosgiver]

The Griffin And The Dragon:

He Returns

Summary: Two years have passed and (Y/N) is rather happy. That is, until some topics are brought up and a man from the past returns...

Warnings: Swearing, Daemon (he is a warning in himself)

******

A yawn escaped (Y/N)'s mouth yet again despite her best efforts to stifle it. "Are you well, my dear?" Viserys asked from across her with a soft tone. She looked up, half asleep before being jolted back to reality. She was at breakfast with her husband, Rhaenyra and, nearby, her son, Aegon. Yes, she had brought forth a male and fulfilled the prophecy. The entirety of Concordia rejoiced upon hearing the heir to the throne was a long awaited king. And she was currently pregnant with her second child. Halfway through the pregnancy. Aegon had only just turned two years of age. He had the same silver blonde hair and violet eyes of his father. But already began showing a mischievous nature.

But, as you have guessed, (Y/N) wasn't doing alright. She gave a weak smile. "A trivial thing, my love," she said quietly. However, Viserys knew what was bothering her. It began happening after Aegon's second name day. She had began having terrible dreams. She would often wake up screaming in horror. Viserys often times woke up to it, concerned for his wife. Although, she never disclosed what these dreams contained. Whatever it was, wasn't good. However, the time for talking could be later. With the war in the Stepstones done, Daemon had returned. When (Y/N) learnt of that, she couldn't tell if her heart skipped a beat or if her heart plumated. Their last encounter going through her mind. She went to the gardens with Alicent and Aegon. Alicent loved the little prince, finding him adorable when holding his little wooden dragon. (Y/N) smiled at her son has been babbled, waving around the toy.

"What is this?" an all too familiar voice said. (Y/N) recognised that drawl anywhere. She turned around to see Daemon. His hair was far more shorter than the last time she saw him. He was masking his shock and slightly anger upon seeing her with a child in her arms and a pregnant belly. "Leave us," Katherine said to Alicent, handing Aegon over to her. Alicent knew what that meant. She curtsied, taking the child and walking away. Daemon's eyes pierced into (Y/N), but she no longer felt timid.

"You look well," she said calmly. Daemon scoffed at her civil tone. "Do not give me that bullshit. You're pregnant and carry a child with Valyrian features. Unless you married a Velyaron, you better have some explaining to do," Daemon said menacingly, taking a step forward, but she didn't back down. "In the two years you were gone, I became Queen of Concordia. And... Viserys' wife," she explained. Daemon looked ready to punch something. "And I do not believe it is any of your concern. After all, you are wed yourself. Have a good day," she said, going to walk past. But Daemon's hand shot out quickly, grabbing her bicep in an iron grip. She gasped as she was forcibly turned around. "I don't give a fuck about who you are now. Did you think I kissed you for nothing?" he hissed out. "You were married to Lady Royce. You shouldn't have kissed me in the first place," she shot back, trying to tug her arm from his grip. But he was too strong.

Before anything more could be said, footsteps were heard. Ser Criston Cole had arrived, probably having been told by Alicent. "My queen, is all well?" Criston asked, his eyes darting to Daemon, his hand on the pomel of his sword. "Quite fine, Ser Criston," she said, now succeeding in pulling her arm from his grip, ignoring the slight stinging. "Have a good day, Daemon," (Y/N) replied with a more firm tone before leaving briskly.

******

(Y/N) woke up with a short scream, her skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat, her body trembling. Viserys jolted awake at the same time. Almost anticipating it. She rubbed her eyes as he sat up. "This isn't good for you, my love. What is it you see that causes such fear?" Viserys asked, putting a hand on her back. She took shuddering breaths, trying to calm her rapid heartbeat. Once she regained some control over her breathing patterns, she looked at her husband. She couldn't keep it secret forever.

"It's Concordia. I dream of it every night. And every night I dream the same thing. That it will fall, it will be destroyed by a cataclysm, that it will die and so will all of my people. I see such horrific things. I can't stop thinking of it. What if it is the fate of my land?" she asked, tears streaming from her eyes. Viserys gently pulled her into his arms, gently shushing her, trying to calm his wife. "I am sure it is just a dream. Nothing but the stress getting to you," he said gently, rubbing her back and pregnant stomach, hoping to soothe her. She took some deep breaths, her heart finally starting to beat normally. But (Y/N) still wasn't entirely convinced. "Come, my dear. You must rest. It isn't good for the babe," Viserys said. With a soft sigh, she laid back down and in her husband's embrace, praying to the gods that it was all just a cruel nightmare...

******

We're slowly coming to the end of the series, but there is still plenty to write. I want to thank everyone who is liking this series so far. Enjoy!

#alicent hightower #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #house of the dragon #otto hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #viserys targaryen #viserys x reader #fantasy

[topguncortez]

Day 4: Dead on your feet ➢prompts: can't pass out ➢character: Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell ➢warnings: MISCARRIAGE, bleeding, angst, hospitals ➢word count: 1.5k

|| masterlist || whumptober || whumptober masterlist || library page ||

The morning started the same way that every morning started. Maverick’s alarm blaring through the quiet room, and Y/N’s loud groan in annoyance. Maverick chuckled as she tried her best to roll over, but couldn’t because of the protruding bump from her abdomen. Maverick blindly reached for the clock radio on his bedside table to stop the annoying ringing. He rubbed his eyes, squinting at the bit of sunlight that shone through the blinds. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and stretched feeling his muscles and joints pop. 

“Morning mama,” Maverick said, leaning over to kiss her forehead, “And morning baby,” He smiled as he kissed her bump. It was the same thing every morning. Pete shower, shaved, and got dressed in the bathroom so Y/N could still sleep. She wasn’t a morning person, and had let Pete know that a couple times. 

“Do you have to go to work?” Y/N mumbled, as Maverick sat on the side of her bed and tied his brown dress shoes, “I want cuddles.” 

“I know you do,” Pete smiled, and kissed her lips, “But I have to. Just think, we have six weeks left until we have a little one keeping us up at night.” 

“Yay,” Y/N groaned, “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Maverick said, and got up from the bed, “Have a good day, sweetheart.” 

Y/N slept for about another hour after Maverick left, then got out of bed due to the pressure in her bladder. Y/N made herself breakfast, and got dressed in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. She hummed to herself as she walked down to the half put together nursery. She smiled at the large rainbow she had started to paint. Grabbing the ladder, she moved it over towards the wall, getting the paint ready to hopefully finish the mural. 

“Oh,” She groaned, feeling a slight contraction, “Active today, aren’t you.” She said, and went back to painting. She tried to breathe through the pain as it came and went, thinking it was just normal braxton hicks that she had been feeling. It was only when she spotted the blood droplets in between her feet, 

“Oh, okay,” She said in shock. She carefully got off the ladder, and looked at the stain in her shorts, “Fuck.” Y/N’s mind was blank, but her body was moving on auto pilot as she went towards the bathroom to clean herself up. She didn’t want to believe that she was bleeding, she just wanted to clean herself up, and then go to the hospital. 

“Stop, please,” Y/N cried as she felt cramping in her belly again. She turned on the shower, letting the water get warm, before stepping in, “Please, please.” The water around her feet was slowly turning red from the blood between her legs. 

Maverick whistled to himself as he ran up the steps of the house. He had gotten a half day, and planned on surprising Y/N with her favorite lunch. He had stopped and got her flowers, knowing that they made her happy. He had opened his mouth to call out for her, when he found her sitting on the couch, her hair still soaking wet, tears streaming down her face, and trying to get her shoes on. 

“Y/N?” Maverick said, dropping the flowers and food by the front door. She was pale, except for the red tears strains on her face, “What is going on?” 

“It hurts, really bad,” She mumbled, her head lulling to the side. Maverick looked her over, and that’s when he noticed the blood on her pants. 

“Oh my god,” Maverick choked out, “Okay, we need to go.” 

“I can’t,” Y/N sighed, “I’m too tired.” 

“We need to,” Maverick helped her up from the couch, and wrapped his arm around her waist. He had to take most of her weight, worried that she was going to go crashing down at any second. The coppery scene of blond made him feel nauseous as he helped her get into the car. He buckled her in and then ran to the otherside of the car, “Hey, hey, don’t fall asleep. Keep your eyes open.” 

“Okay,” Y/N whispered out. 

“Y/N,” Maverick snapped, and nudged her thigh, “Keep your eyes open. You need to stay awake.” 

“It hurts so much,” She sobbed out, and Maverick had to bite back his own tears. He could only imagine the pain she was going through right now. 

Maverick probably violated every traffic law that there was in the city of San Diego, to get to the hospital. He switched from between keeping his eyes on the road, to shaking Y/N awake, and keeping her talking. The coppery scent was one that was always going to haunt Maverick, as he walked towards the hospital with his barely conscious girlfriend in his arms. 

“Stay with me, baby, stay with me,” Maverick pleaded with her. 

“Mav. . .” She whined, her head lulling to rest on his shoulder. 

“You can do it. You can’t pass out now. We’re almost there. . . .” Maverick pushed through the door of the emergency room, and looked around, “Help! Please! She’s pregnant!” Maverick called out, and noticed the frantic looks on the nurses faces as they realized what was going on in front of them. They moved quickly, calling for a doctor as Y/N’s knees buckled and her body went crashing to the ground, “Y/N! Stay with me! Please, stay with me!” 

A nurse ran over, and kneeled down next to them, putting her fingers on Y/N’s neck, “Pulse is there but weak, we need to get her into the OR, ASAP.” 

“Sir, we need you to move,” Another nurse said, and gently grabbed Maverick’s body and moved him from Y/N. The last glimpse he saw of her, was her pale face and weak body being moved down the hallway. Maverick stood there with tears in his eyes as he prayed to anyone listening that everything was going to be okay. 

Four hours later Maverick was sitting by her beside, holding a fist to his mouth, trying to stop himself from crying. It was useless trying to hold back tears as he watched her sleeping frame. The doctor had told him the worst news of his life. He didn’t think his heart could hurt anymore after losing Goose, but he was wrong. This hurt just as much if not more. He sat up a bit straighter in his chair as he watched her start to stir. Maverick stood up, and grabbed Y/N’s hand, and brushed her hair back with his other. He smiled down at her as her eyes fluttered open. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Maverick whispered. 

“Mav-” 

“Shh, it’s okay. What do you need?” 

“Water.” 

Maverick nodded, and grabbed the cup of water that was sitting by her bed. He helped her sit up a bit, and held the cup for her to drink from. When she was done, he set the cup back down, and then sat back in his chair. He held her hand for a while, sitting in silence until she spoke up. 

“What happened?” 

“You uh. . .” Maverick cleared his throat and rested his elbows on his knees, “You had what they called placental abruption. The placenta detached from the wall of your uterus,” Maverick looked up at her, and saw the tears running down her face, “There was nothing they could do.” 

“I lost the baby?” She sobbed out. 

Maverick didn’t even hesitate as he moved and pulled her in for a tight hug as she let out a loud sob. The two of them stayed like that for probably twenty minutes, letting Y/N cry. Maverick cried too, finally letting the emotion out he had been bottling up. He moved her gently, careful of the staples in her lower abdomen, and let her rest against his chest. 

“I’m sorry,” Y/N mumbled. 

Maverick shook his head, and gently lifted her chin to look at him, “Don’t you dare apologize. You did nothing wrong. You hear me?” Y/N nodded as her chin quivered, “Nothing, honey, you didn’t do anything. It just. . . wasn’t our time.” 

“Why are things so unfair?” She sobbed and Maverick shook his head and shrugged, pulling her back into his chest. He held her while she cried herself to sleep, whispering sweet things into her ear.

#whumptober 2022 #no.4 #dead on your feet #tw: miscarriage #top gun fandom #top gun #top gun fan fic #top gun fan fiction #top gun imagine #top gun 1986 #Pete Mitchell #Pete Mitchell fan fic #Pete mitchell imagine #Pete mitchell fan fiction #Pete mitchell x reader #maverick #maverick imagine #maverick fan fic #maverick fan fiction #maverick x reader

[lokiisdaddyblog]

Little Mischiefs

Loki x Reader. Short one-shot.

Warnings: fluff, implied smut ;)

FYI this is my first time writing on Tumblr and I’m still learning how to write decent fanfic, so make sure to leave some suggestions and give it a like if you enjoy it! :)

…

You woke up suddenly as a loud bang drew you from your quick thirty minute power nap. Well, that’s what you had called it but you checked the time and apparently thirty minutes turned into two hours.

You told Loki to wake you up once half an hour was up but of course he did not listen and instead let you sleep. You groaned as you threw the covers off and swung your legs over the edge of the bed and with a yawn you waddled to the kitchen, where you assumed the noise came from.

You were now around 5 months pregnant, you and Loki’s third baby on the way. As you walked down the hallway you heard a deep voice say something, followed by adorable little giggles that melted your heart.

You entered the kitchen to see your daughter, Freya, and your son, Erik, sitting on the kitchen counter with a large bowl between them. Your eyes widen and you put your hands on your wide hips.

“What on earth is going on here?” You say teasingly. Everyone freezes before slowly turning to you. Erik is frozen midway with a spoonful of chocolate in his mouth, most of it already around his face.

“Hi mummy!!” Freya exclaims before, not so gracefully, sliding of the counter and running into your arms.

“Hello, love.” You smile and happily take her into your arms, being careful of your baby bump. You lick your thumb and wipe a bit of chocolate from her cheek.

“Lo, care to explain the absolute mess that is our kitchen?” You slowly walk up to him. He simply licks his lips and smirks.

“Oh well we were just-“

“Mummy we were making brownies!” Erik yells from the counter.

“Oh really? Is there any in the oven yet or are they just all over your adorable little face?” You scrunch up your nose and rub your sons cheek gently.

“I think you little mischiefs need a bath, hm?” You suggest, earning a whine from beside you.

“Nooo mummy I don’t want a baf!” Freya protests, you bite back a laugh at her pronunciation. You set her down on the floor because your back was starting to hurt and take her tiny hand instead.

“Well what mummy says, goes.” Loki says after putting the brownies in the oven. He stands back up straight and leans against the counter, giving you a wink.

You furrow your brows and your cheeks blush at his sudden flirty-ness, but you can’t lie that it makes you feel a little…turned on. Pregnancy hormones have turned you into a horn-dog, not the Loki’s been complaining or anything.

“Yep, you heard daddy. Let’s go have a bath now my little angels.” You say, taking your children’s hands and leading them to the bathroom.

You turn on the warm water, add in some bubbles and other special salts. You help them in and then go to the side of the bathtub, washing their hair in turns and rinsing it with a bowl.

“Mummy can you go get my doll please?” Freya asks you. You smile and nod you head. “Of course.”

You walk out into the lounge room where all the toys and books are spread out on the floor. You groan at the mess, knowing that you will inevitably be the one to clean it up. You scour the floor in search of Freya’s doll but is nowhere to be seen.

“Loki!? Baby, have you seen Fre-“ you turn around to see Loki standing there with a smirk plastered across his face.

“Looking for this?” He asks, his voice husky. You nod and walk up to him.

“I’ll take it to her. You just rest, ok?” He says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Okay.” You agree and waddle back over to the lounge, steeping in between each toy.

About ten minutes pass and Loki finally comes back, he walks up to you and kneels in front of you on the floor. “The kids are asleep. Turns out baking brownies are quite tiring.” He says with a smile, rubbing his hand over your swollen belly.

“Loki…” you whisper, not expecting him to hear. You need him. Now. And boy are you desperate. The two of you haven’t be able to have sex for over a week now because of the kids.

“I know, darling. I know.” He says quietly, as if reading your mind. His hands trail up your thighs and cups your clothed pussy. “I’m going to take care of you now. I promise.”

…

#loki oneshot #loki x y/n #mcu loki #loki x reader fluff #loki laufeyson #loki x reader smut #loki fluff #loki x reader #reading #marvel #loki fanfic #loki x female reader #loki #Loki x pregnant reader

[stxrshxpxd]

autumn

pairing: 90s professor hugh grant x reader

word count: 3k

warnings: student x teacher

prompt: reader falls for her university professor and she thinks it just might be a mutual feeling…

requested by anonymous <3

September.

I had seen Mr. Grant twice in passing on my walks across campus and through the seemingly endless hallways of marble flooring and dark stain wooden arches, on my little quests to navigate my way through my new university. The first time I had turned my head rather indiscreetly and nearly walked into a massive pillar as I studied his locks of brown hair bouncing away from me along with his rushing steps. The second time I had felt a stab deep in my stomach at the sight of him across the library, pulling his hand through said locks of brown hair, before ending his short conversation with the headmaster and quickly disappearing again.

My third encounter with him came on a September morning with ambiguous weather. I sat watching the strong sun begin to beam through the patchy coat of clouds and chase the morning mist away. As the doors opened to the lecture room I expected a large pregnant belly to enter first, but instead that pain in my stomach returned at the sight of Mr Grant marching inside. There were scattered whispers and mumbles around the room. I had no one to whisper to, and so I took a deep breath and secured my gaze on the bronze buckle of his belt and bit the inside of my cheek.

“I take it Mrs. Sherman hadn’t told you who would be filling in for her,” he chuckled at the palpable surprise in the room. “Well. It’s lovely to meet you all. I’m Professor Grant. I do recognise a few faces around the room.” His gaze hopped between students and he gave a handful of them soft smiles, skipping over me. “Well… Mrs. Sherman went into labour on Sunday and now has a little baby girl at home.” I noticed he spoke with his whole face and half his body, smiling, raising his brows and opening his arms in celebration at the happy news. “So, I will be teaching the rest of your Literary Analysis course this year.”

The sun had come to lay across half his body and was making the silver ring on his pinky glow brightly.

“I heard you’re reading Sense and Sensibility,” he said and a few of the students nodded in silence, backs straight and ears eagerly open. Mr. Grant swiftly pulled out a small, weathered copy of the book in question from the back pocket of his black suit trousers. For some reason that act made the stabbing in my abdomen worse. I held in a sigh at the fear that everything he did would make my stomach wrench in agony.

October.

The rain was beating aggressively against the large windows to my right and added to the soundtrack of Mr. Grant humming between his nods as well as tapping his index finger softly against the desk he was half sitting back on. I had lost track of what the student behind me was saying about Children of the Corn but forced myself to hurriedly tune back into the monologue once I felt Professor Grant’s eyes resting on me occasionally. I anticipated his question and I searched my mind quickly.

“That’s a very nice analysis, Thomas, thank you. Y/N, what thoughts did this story provoke for you?”

I couldn’t recall a time when I had properly shared my analysis directly with him before. My written words about Sense and Sensibility had been met with a seeming intrigue on his behalf though.

I greatly appreciate the depth of your character analysis. It shows you have a strong sense of morality and can view a person from a number of perspectives without favouring one. That is a very helpful tool. I am eager to hear more of your thoughts this year!

I had read the scribbled comment at the bottom of my short essay over and over, and right now they were the only words in my brain.

“Um, well, I think King has an incredible way of creating an atmosphere with just a few words. It’s quite remarkable.”

Mr. Grant nodded and smiled in agreement. Finally my thoughts caught up with me and I stammered on, all the while staring at the previously hidden forearms now sticking out of Grant’s rolled up sleeves.

“And, um… the thought that followed me all the way through the story is the exploration of religion in the modern world. Oftentimes I feel that religion is this untouchable and completely unstoppable thing that is, sort of, ironically out of our hands. You know, do we create it or does it create us?” Professor Grant’s smile grew slightly and I looked away, desperately trying to not lose my train of thought to the beauty of his pale, soft face.

“And also what is the difference between religion and cult, what defines them? …And why is one seemingly the pinnacle of good and the other inherently evil, if the line between them is so blurred, or indeed can’t be drawn at all? …Is ruthlessly shunning and marginalising people not just as bad as brutally killing them in a corn field? It’s just a choice of mental or physical death really. Except there isn’t a choice.”

I looked back at my professor once I had gotten my sentences out. He nodded slowly and pondered calmly with that satisfied smile on his lips, as I sat half panicking in the silence. All I could hear were my words echoing in the air between us.

“And do you think it should be stopped? Religion.”

He tilted his head and I took a deep breath in, in the midst of my light panic. He chuckled sympathetically with me, realising the magnitude of the question he had just asked.

“Yes and no, of course… I just think that it’s been a hell of a long time since society existed without religion, it might well be very healthy for us to step back and consider the world without it.”

“So, yes?” Mr. Grant suggested for me with a charming grin and an eye with a big twinkle in the centre. I laughed shortly and looked down at my nervous hands toying with my pencil.

“So, maybe,” I responded, looking up again. He chuckled and nodded once more and combed his fingers through the left side of his hair, only for it to bounce right back to its previous position.

November.

My eyes ached as I sat with my head hanging over my borrowed copy of E.M. Forster’s Maurice, reading the same line over and over again. I had read the book a few years earlier and adored it, but re-reading it now as the time was nearing 11 pm on a Friday night the words carried little meaning. Even my own words in my neat notes appeared increasingly alien.

The library was lit up softly and was about as silent as it could possibly get. It felt wrong to move and make sound as I stared out at the vastness of the room and the hallway outside of the library walls. Suddenly, just as my gaze had fixed sleepily on a framed painting hanging in line with my eyes, a person startled me as he came walking down the hallway. It was Professor Grant.

I shortly pondered the concept of fate as he turned his head casually and locked eyes with me. A smile came upon his face and he steered his steps inside the library without hesitating. He was in his usual black suit trousers and tight belt, a button-up without a tie, and a long coat and knitted scarf draped over his forearm. Under his other arm sat a thick stack of stapled papers caged in firmly against the side of his ribs. Shortly again I pondered the concept of jealousy now, before he spoke and washed my mind clean of everything else.

“Why aren’t you at that big dormitory party?”

Mr. Grant sat on the edge of my table and glanced down at me. He tossed his stack next to my stuff, at which my eyes scanned it and noticed several little notes and markings in red ink scattered throughout the text. I concluded that he had stayed late in his office to mark essays.

“How do you know about the party?”

He laughed quietly and looked around the room momentarily, allowing me a few seconds of shamelessly staring at his strong jaw as he looked away from me.

“Kids always think they’re very secretive. My hearing and deductive skills are excellent in fact.”

I smiled when he looked back at me, but the sentiment of the smile faded quickly from inside me.

“Do you think of us as kids?” I asked in the most neutral tone I could manage. He was only fifteen years older at the absolute most. He couldn’t be a day over thirty-five.

Mr. Grant’s soft stare dropped down my body in stages, seeming to halt at my collarbone and ribs and then my hinged hips where his gaze settled a short while.

“No,” he decided after a moment’s silence.

I didn’t know how the rest of that conversation was meant to go or indeed how to deal with the apparent tension that had built in the quiet room. Instead I backtracked to his initial question of why I was in the library on a Friday night.

“Well… You set an essay due Wednesday, didn’t you,” I chuckled breathily and impulsively looked down as I closed the book in my hands. We both gazed down at the cover and it felt like a strange form of eye contact. When I looked back up I saw a soft smile on his lips.

“That’s one of my favourite books.”

I exhaled and responded quickly.

“I will choose my words carefully.”

My professor’s smile grew and he met my eyes with his visibly tired ones, shaking his head.

“I trust you.”

Something in the air made me feel as though our conversation was coming to an end and it made me sad, which was why I grabbed onto a bit of substantial conversation I could find in our repertoire.

“I’m not big on parties anyway.”

Mr. Grant had crossed his arms now and nodded with the remnants of a smile.

“I understand.” He thought for a second and licked the corner of his mouth. “The parties in your future will be much more up your alley, when you’re an esteemed author. Trust me.”

He spoke of me being a revered published writer, yet all I felt like was a silly teenage girl as I tried to control my blushing cheeks at his sweet words. And then a soft groan escaped him as he reached to grab his essays again and stood on his long legs, clearly on his way to exit again.

“Just don't forget your old Literary Analysis professor when you’re famous,” he demanded sweetly and I simply kept smiling and blushing as he headed out, leaving me with my own company again. I had to fight to stop grinning and I found I was on the verge of breaking a sweat under my knitted jumper.

December.

For a few weeks now I had noticed an increase in stares between me and Professor Grant. I had found him resting his eyes on me several times across the room and once I thought I had made him blush, simply by looking up and meeting his eyes. He had looked down quickly and stuck his one hand into his hair, tensed his brows and stared down at his books again. I had mirrored his actions but hadn’t been able to make a single note for the next few minutes, completely consumed by the idea of letting my lips gently kiss his brow bone and feel him soften at my touch.

I was currently wrapped up in another one of those thoughts as I stared out the window, where light snowflakes were falling and slowly but surely forming a thin white coat over the lawn. I could hear his voice loud and clear as he was in the middle of a lecture - something about anti-heros apparently - but I wasn’t listening to the words. In my mind my lips were attached to his jaw and my fingers rushing to unbutton his shirt. Just as my mouth had reached his collarbone, his real life self changed his tone of voice and I tuned back in.

“Right, we’ll continue this tomorrow for a bit. And we will also have a chat about the exam in two weeks. So, bring all your anxieties and questions tomorrow and we’ll talk it through. Does that sound alright?”

I scanned the room quickly to find all the nodding and smiling students begin to toss their books into their bags and I scrambled to do the same, but once my eyes turned back to the front of the lecture room I found Mr. Grant on his way over to me.

“Hi,” he uttered quietly with a kind smile and I returned it. His hands were in his trouser pockets and his head tilted slightly as he looked down at me.

“I heard,” he began, glancing away at the last few students leaving the room. “from Mr. Holland.. that you’re doing quite well in your Creative Writing class.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I shrugged and laughed shyly as I fidgeted with the pages of my notebook.

“Now, I would hate to find out you have a favourite class that’s not mine, but,” Grant sighed jokingly and then gave me another soft curl of the lips. “I would love to read some of your writing if you wouldn’t mind. I promise to give you nothing but praise, of course.”

I chuckled and had to force my mind out of the gutter of imagining what type of praise he might give me.

“No, I want your critique,” I nodded, still anxiously toying with the notebook that conveniently enough held a lot of my creative writing drafts and half-ideas. Mr. Grant nodded back and swivelled around to my side of the table as I began flicking through my notebook to the sound of my umming and ahhing nervously.

He had planted his large palms on the table and his head hung between his broad shoulders as I finally decided on a page that felt somewhat representative of my work. His thin-rimmed glasses had been pushed up into his hair for the majority of the lecture, and he pulled them down now as he focused his eyes and mind fully on my text.

He was so close to me I could feel his scent begin to fill my nose, and his tricep was nearly brushing against my shoulder. I studied the few veins on his hands as his fingertips instinctively held the paper down against my table.

“It’s really good, Y/N,” Professor Grant finally concluded with his voice just a step above a whisper. “Really good.”

I looked up to make shy eye contact again and found his expression had changed from his sweet, composed smiles he would usually give me. There was something behind his spectacled eyes that suggested conflict. I realised there were just a few inches separating us and the urge to stand up and press my lips to his grew quickly, until I simply couldn’t fight it.

Pushing my chair back and half standing up, I planted a desperate kiss on his already slightly parted lips. For a second everything stood still and I wasn’t sure if he was kissing me back, but at least he wasn’t pulling away. Then I felt those gorgeous hands coat my sides, if only to help stabilise me as I staggered to my feet. It felt like everything happened within the space of a nervous heartbeat. Soon he backed away a step, his warm palms being the last to leave my body. Grant anxiously threw a glance behind him at the half open door as he wiped his bottom lip with his thumb. The sounds from the hallway came back to me again and regret washed over me with such power it nearly made me lightheaded.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” I breathed.

“No,” he simply said and shook his head. The empty space in the air made me feel like he was supposed to or wanted to say something else, but he didn’t for a while. His eyes hopped from one corner of my face to the other and his chest rose and fell with his stressed breathing. At last his gaze settled on my lips.

“Y/N, you’re…” He rubbed his forehead and took a few more steps further away from me. “You’re very special and I really admire you… There’s just no way this can happen. You understand that, don’t you?”

He turned around to find me standing in the spot he left me, horrified by my own actions.

“And you have no idea how common it is to fall for a professor. It’s a very peculiar relationship; a student and a teacher… It happens. It’s absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about, okay?”

Fully knowing I was going to be excruciatingly embarrassed by this incident maybe for the rest of my life, I nodded.

“Really, it’s alright,” Professor Grant spoke in a warm voice with a definite sadness behind it. My whole body was vibrating with nerves and heartache and I managed to move my stiff limbs enough to pick up my books and bag.

“Okay,” I exhaled, wanting so badly to believe him. I left his concerned expression behind as I passed him and stepped out into the hallway, managing to catch the heavy sigh he let out behind me. Even still, with embarrassment weighing down my steps, the only thing I could think of was the incredible feeling of his lips against mine and his hands holding my waist. My insides ached as I realised I would never be allowed to kiss him again. Hell, I wasn’t even allowed to kiss him this time. My lower lashes held heavy tears as I stomped outside and kicked my boots through the fresh snow, heading towards my dorm.

#I wasn’t sure how I wanted the ending to play out and idk how I feel about it #but I kinda wanna write a part two. perhaps #also the mentions of sense and sensibility & maurice hehe #hugh grant #imagine #fic #au #hugh grant x reader

[soft-for-yoongi]

Mpreg (sick JK)

--------------------------------

Sick: Jungkook

Caretaker: Jimin

Tw: emeto, vom**, throwing up, nausea, mpreg

Word count: 593

(Jungkook is feeling sick and miserable while Jimin is at work. When he comes home, he imidiantly dots on Jungkook)

(Ahh, this is my first time writing mpreg, and it is very short, so I apologise for that!!! I hope it's somewhat half decent and you at least semi-enjoy reading this 🥴) (ahhh, the ending definitely could be improved..)

(This gif is so cute, I just wish it was better quality)

(Next posts will be some requests!!!!! Anons, if you see this, don't worry, your fics are coming!!!!)

(Title suggestions for this? 🥺)

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Jungkook misses his abs. Being 5 months pregnant, he's sick of feeling sick. Jungkook hates the mornings where he simply just can't. He can't work, can't eat, can't sleep. (He may also just be a little hormonal)

Jungkook lays a hand ontop of the soft curve of his stomach, waiting patiently for Jimin to get home. The elder forced him to stay home after he'd spent early hours of the morning throwing up his dinner.

Jungkook managed to doze off in bed for a short while, however, his back started to get sore and he couldn't fall back asleep. He then relocated himself to the couch, turning on the tv to watch a random kdrama. He forced himself to nibble on some crackers and sip water, thinking of the baby. Unfortunately, his stomach revolted against the meager sustenance, prompting him to hastily grab a nearby trash can to cope with the overwhelming waves of nausea.

But right now Jungkook is almost close to tears, rubbing his stomach pitifully and debating asking Jimin when he'll be home. The crackers have been given up and Jungkook can't concentrate on the tv long enough so he turns that off too.

Jimin did offer to stay behind from work but Jungkook reassured the dancer that he'd be okay and his morning sickness had been improving. Thankfully—Jimin suspected the younger just felt bad keeping him from working, so instead of his usual 5:30 knock off time, Jungkook heard the soft click of the door at just 4:15.

"Hey Jungkookie, I'm back early." Jimin said into the apartment, looking around to see where Jungkook was. "Hyungie.." Jungkook moaned from the couch. Jimin frowned worriedly, putting his things down and walking to where Jungkook is.

The sight is endearing but sad, Jungkook's cute belly pointing to the ceiling and pale face screwed up. "Hey, bunny.. not feeling the best?" Jimin squats in front of the couch, combing Jungkook's hair and giving him a gentle kiss on the forehead.

Jimin notices the crackers and bin beside him, happy the youngest made an effort to eat. Jungkook doesn't have the energy so he just shakes his head, eyes closed and hand reaching for Jimin's. He gladly takes Jungkook's palm in his.

"Has it been like this all day, Kookie?" Jimin asks, Jungkook pauses before trying to answer, stomach sloshing violently and he sits up on his elbows. Jungkook reaches for the bin and Jimin quickly passes it, holding it under the younger's chin.

Jimin suspected this might happen, Jungkook's pale features gave it away when he laid eyes on him. "Deep breaths, lovey." Jimin encourages just as Jungkook hiccups and a rush of puke lands in the bin. Jungkook cradles his middle and coughs up remnants of the crackers.

"Ugh.. that was the first time I've thrown up since this mornin'.." Jungkook says, spitting into the bin before moving to sit comfortably on the couch. Jimin sits beside the younger, smoothing back Jungkook's hair. "I've been feeling sick all day, hyungie.." Jungkook sniffles and Jimin worries that he's about to cry.

"Aww Kookie, you poor thing.." Jimin kisses Jungkook's forehead. "In the next appointment we can ask the doctor for something to help your morning sickness." Jimin places his hand softly on Jungkook's belly, checking for a negative response before slowly rubbing circles.

"This feel nice?" Jimin asks, gaining a nod. Jimin hopes that in a couple weeks Jungkook won't have to be stuck at home feeling sick, he doesn't think he can handle seeing Jungkook this run down.

#bts #soft-for-yoongi writes #bts!sickfic #emeto #emeto mention #bangtan #jungkook #jimin #emeto fic #sick #sickfic #vomit mention #vomiting #sick!jungkook #caretaker!jimin #mpreg #morning sickness #bts emeto #bts sickfic

[cousinkooksbackup]

Exchanged Love. || a bellyjere au fic

chapter seventeen

previous chapter | next chapter | table of contents

bellys pov

The Jeep was set to pull out in just five minutes, and Jeremiah's voice carried up the stairs, breaking the morning stillness. I'd been awake for hours, yet I couldn't shake the feeling of being unprepared for my first day at Boston College High School. That sense of unreadiness seemed unlikely to fade any time soon.

There was something nerve-wracking about being in such a completely new environment. I had met a few classmates at the party we attended on Friday, but today felt different. There was no alcohol to blur emotions, no liquid courage to boost my confidence. What if they didn't like the real me without the aid of alcohol?

"Oh, my special girl, you look absolutely dreamy," Susannah appeared behind me in the mirror, her smile melting my insides and coaxing a smile onto my own lips.

Susannah and I had spent all of last night selecting my first-day outfit. Jeremiah had teased us, insisting it wasn't a big deal, but his mom hushed him and sent him on an ice cream run for us instead. "Boys don't get it; being excited for your first day is a big deal," she reassured me.

We ultimately chose a simple blue corset top and white high-waisted shorts. Susannah had even added a white cardigan, which I secretly stashed in my bag once I got into the car with Jeremiah. Even with her modest addition, I felt like such a grown-up.

Back home, we wore uniforms to school, so dressing as we pleased was a novel concept—one that was both thrilling and intimidating. But having Susannah to guide me through it all was comforting. I tried to imagine my mom doing the same, but I knew she wouldn't have. She wouldn't have taken me shopping, helped me create outfits, or approved of this outfit—though it wasn't overly mature or revealing. She'd have preferred me in a turtleneck and jeans, cinched with a belt to keep them from slipping down.

"I should probably get going. Thank you for everything, Susannah," I hugged her, despite hearing Jeremiah's car horn honking outside. He could wait a few more seconds; it wouldn't hurt him. She smiled and squeezed me tightly, telling me to give her boy a playful slap for rushing perfection.

"Well, at least it was worth the wait. You look beautiful, Bells," Jeremiah complimented, waiting for me to hop into the passenger seat. His words made my cheeks flush. We had agreed to be just friends, and that the kiss was nothing more than a drunken mistake, but it was hard to convince myself otherwise when he said things like that—things that made me want to squeal and kick my feet.

"Well, we can thank your mom for that. She really helped put me together," I confessed. There was no way I could have pulled off a look like this or styled my hair so nicely without her assistance.

"I'm sure that's untrue. You would have looked good in anything," he assured me, his hand inching toward the back of my seat as he reversed out of the driveway.

My gaze lingered on him, noting how our outfits almost coordinated—his light blue button-up adorned with a white floral print and khaki shorts complemented my own outfit. I was half-surprised Susannah hadn't insisted on one of those cheesy back-to-school photos. His nose crinkled as he focused on avoiding the mailbox, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. God, he was so attractive... and God, I needed to stop having these thoughts.

"Are you nervous?" Jeremiah asked as we stopped at a red light, turning the radio down. I glanced over at him, my fingers halting their fidgeting with the hem of my shorts.

"What gave it away?" I asked, bashful.

"Your face says it all, really," he chuckled, pressing the gas pedal as we continued down the road. With each mile that passed, the pit in my stomach grew larger. It was unlikely that people would hate me when I walked in—how could they? Most of them wouldn't even know me. Yet, that didn't stop my mind from concocting all sorts of fictional scenarios.

"You know, the guys in the football group chat haven't stopped talking about you since the party," he told me softly. To Jeremiah, it might have sounded like an offhand comment, but it was a welcome one. People had liked me at the party, and I needed to remember that. No matter how many imaginary scenarios my brain conjured up, that wouldn't change overnight.

When we finally pulled up at the school, I felt like I could barely breathe. My gaze darted to the curly-haired boy sitting beside me. Of course, he was already waiting for me, a smile on his face. He reached out over the center console and took my hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Now I had two different kinds of butterflies.

"You're going to be fine, Bells," he assured me before turning off the car and hopping out.

Now was as good a time as any to follow his lead. I swung my door open to the lively chatter that was the first-day-of-school student parking lot. Jeremiah waited for me at the front of his Jeep, backpack slung around his shoulders and that signature grin on his face.

"Welcome to BCHS, Bells. I'll walk you to your first class, okay?" He was so sweet. Every time he spoke, it felt like he was melting my heart a little more

 each day. Building up these walls was becoming increasingly difficult.

Just like at the party, we were greeted by all sorts of people. About fifteen minutes remained until the bell would ring, and students perched on their cars, ate breakfast at the picnic tables, and lingered in the parking lot. 

Instead of heading straight for the door like I expected, we headed toward a table, and I followed him like a lost puppy. The closer we got to the picnic table, the more evident it became. I should have heard the football boys from a mile away with the way they were hooting and hollering.

"Oh, look who it is!" someone's voice called out, and heads turned in our direction.

"Belly!" a couple of boys came running right for me, not bothering to acknowledge their teammate beside me. I couldn't help but laugh, blushing from all the attention as they yelled out my name. I was pretty sure this was Ricky and Wade, but I might have mixed them up in my haze. Taylor and EJ sat together atop the picnic table, and EJ offered a small wave while his girlfriend bounded toward us.

"Back up, boys; she's mine this year!" she announced, pushing the two out of the way as they tried to claim their spots.

"Girl, you look so good, holy cow," she said, all while sporting the cutest blazer and skirt combo. I thanked her, leaving out how it reminded me of how the popular girls back home had attempted to style their uniforms—hers, however, was a pastel pink combo and much cuter.

"Let me see your schedule; I really, really hope we have classes together," she said, nearly snatching it from my hand excitedly. Through a series of squeals and big smiles, she seemed to take it as good news. Having a familiar face in my classes would be more than welcome.

"We have first block together with Mr. Saltzman. He's pretty chill, which is a blessing because first thing in the morning, I need time to inhale my coffee. But this means we can walk to class every morning together." One thing I had already learned about Taylor was that this girl could talk. I was pretty sure I wouldn't even have to open my mouth, and she'd somehow manage to carry on a whole conversation with me. But I didn't mind; her energy was contagious.

"I was going to walk Belly to her first class," Jeremiah chimed in, taking his place beside me again.

"No, I was going to walk Belly to class," Ricky teased, squeezing in between Jeremiah and me.

"You guys got it all wrong; I'm the one walking Belly to her class," Wade joined in, coming up from behind me and looping his big arms around my shoulders.

It felt good to belong, to feel wanted at school. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this way. On my last day of school back home, I had done my absolute best to avoid every single one of my peers, just trying to get to class and get home. But here, as I walked down the hallway, it felt like nearly every set of eyes was on me, and I didn't shy away from it.

Taylor was on one side of me, Jeremiah on the other. EJ, Wade, Ricky, and some other football players trailed closely behind us, making sure to introduce me loudly to everyone in the hallway. If it had been anyone else, I might have hated it, but something about their antics felt natural, as though this was a regular occurrence in the hallway, and letting them have their fun was the key to fitting in around here.

The first three classes of the day, I had with Taylor, which was comforting. I could avoid the first-day-of-school stress of getting lost on campus and being late. She introduced me to her other friends—though she'd described them in the secretive text she sent me as strictly school and party friends, whatever that meant. So far, the day had gone well. I hadn't run into Lacie, and all of my teachers seemed nice enough. Lunch was the only part of my day that I was dreading, just a little.

School lunchrooms hadn't been very kind to me, and based on the movies and television shows I'd watched, American high school cafeterias didn't seem promising either. Although everyone breaking out into song and dance would be an experience, Taylor promised me that lunch would be a fun and uneventful forty minutes of our day.

She practically dragged me by my elbow all the way to the cafeteria, chattering about how much she missed EJ and couldn't wait to see him. I wished I could be annoyed, but truthfully, I felt the same way about Jeremiah. Taylor had been a great friendly face to have around, but no one made me feel as at ease and safe as he did.

"I saved you a seat, Bells," Jeremiah grinned, patting the cafeteria chair between him and Wade. Wade chimed in with a wink, "Yeah, I was the brains behind this operation, making sure you got the VIP treatment." Wade was a bit shorter than Jeremiah, but he must have been close to six feet, and his sturdy frame practically enveloped the small seat. His sandy hair and honey-brown eyes gave him a rugged charm, and there was a hint of a Southern drawl in his voice, despite being up North. Charming, for sure, but also a tad clumsy.

"So, how's your day shaping up? Feeling okay?" Jere’s words were hushed, as if no one else in the cafeteria existed. Amidst all the chaos and chatter at the table, Jeremiah's focus remained entirely on me.

"It's been interesting. Classes with Taylor were great, but the next three... well, I'm flying solo. We'll see how that goes," I admitted, not even bothering to mask my nerves. There was something about Jeremiah that made me feel like I didn't have to pretend, and no matter what, he had an uncanny knack for seeing right through me.

"Excuse me," a pointed finger tapped on my shoulder. I didn't even need to turn around to know who the grating voice belonged to. The way Jeremiah's body tensed up next to me didn't go unnoticed either.

She cleared her throat again, saying, "Excuse me, you're in my seat." This time, I didn't have the liquid courage to back me up, but the way everyone stared at me expectantly offered some vote of confidence. I couldn't stand there like a deer in the headlights.

"Lacie, right?" I smiled softly, only to be met with a narrowed glare.

"Well," I shrugged, smile still intact, "if Jeremiah and Wade want me to move, then the seat's all yours."

"Jerebear," she pleaded, the nickname making my stomach twist.

"I think I speak for the whole table when I say that we want Belly to sit with us. There's a space at the end, though," Wade said cheekily, beating Jeremiah to the punch. I could tell he was grateful from the way he relaxed when Lacie stormed away.

"Didn't you break up with her?" EJ questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"I did—yeah, but I guess she didn't believe it was for real this time," Jeremiah shrugged, his voice carrying a mixture of emotions, a slight slump in his posture.

"Oreo?" I asked, extending the chocolate cookie toward him, my brows furrowed as I willed him to smile with my mind. And as if on cue, he took the cookie with his teeth, a great big grin spreading across his face.

#belly conklin #bellyjere #jeremiah fisher #tsitp #the summer i turned pretty #el17

[i-am-out-of-my-vulcan-mind]

My Life in Your Hands

Summary:

Geralt gets hurt on the Path and tries to hide it from the Bard. Inevitably, Jaskier finds out and has to try keep the Witcher alive with a very limited medical knowledge.

A small part of him told him that he could trust the bard. He had been following him around for months now. He had written songs that had definitely lifted his morale - although if he ever heard Toss a Coin again, he was going to throat punch whoever was singing it. Geralt had to admit that Jaskier had proven to be a worthy enough travel companion. He barely complained about camping under the stars if contracts were scarce - only playing for longer in the evenings to build up his coin purse, or playing to pay for their rooms and supper.

  When it came to any form of animosity, that's where his usefulness fell short. They were travelling down the Path, Geralt atop of Roach's back, Jaskier traipsing slightly behind him, jabbering on about his latest fling with the Countess de whatsit.

Geralt grunted, only half (quarter) listening to the bard. He had a sense of unease growing in the pit of his stomach, the hairs on the back of his neck pricking up. He scanned the mountainous rock face they were passing, scenting the air.

  "I've never felt this way before, and I shall never feel this way again." He continued dramatically.

"Quiet." He growled, pulling Roach to a stop.

Jaskier blanched, his eyes widening. "Well now you're just being rude!" He said, placing a hand over his heart. "Here I am - pouring my heart and soul out to you and -"

"Shut the fuck up!" Geralt interrupted. His belly clenched painfully, a sure sign that danger was near. His eyes flicked around, his ears listening for any untoward sound. Jaskier thankfully, had quietened, finally realising that something was wrong. A flash of black caught the Witcher's attention. He pulled his sword out of the scabbard tied to his back.

Bandits.

Fuck.

Geralt hated dealing with bandits. He hated taking human life at the best of times, really not wanting to live up to his butcher reputation. But now that he had the bard to protect, taking life was inevitable. Jaskier was about as useless as tits on a bull when it came to defending himself.

"Run!" Geralt called, dismounting quickly as the first wave of bandits appeared. They were skinny and filthy, probably just trying to get their next meal for their families. Geralt felt sick as he sliced through the first man, nearly vomiting as his body hit the ground with a lifeless thud. He tried not to take too many kill shots, but the bandits were fighting dirty. Geralt had no idea where the bard had gone at this point, he had lost sight of him in the rocky terrain. He just hoped that wherever he was, he was unscathed. Their own coin was running low, they wouldn't have enough money to afford a healer should he be injured.

Geralt disposed of the group of bandits quickly. They were too weak to put up much of a fight. Geralt curled his lip back in distaste as he wiped the blood off his sword. One of the men had managed a hit to his abdomen and it pulsed in time to his slightly quickened heart.

"Geralt?" Geralt heard the bard's voice, echoing slightly off the terrain.

"You can come out now." Geralt called, his gravelly voice scratching against his parched throat. He walked back to Roach, patting her neck softly. She blinked in concern at him, her eyes rolling. He grabbed his waterskin, taking a few sips of the tepid water. His abdomen throbbed again, causing him to wince. He placed his hand over the worst of the pain, slightly surprised to find his fingers painted a crimson red when he pulled his hand away.

"Geralt… I need help." Jaskier's voice came again. Geralt frowned, his own injury momentarily forgotten as he made his way over to where the bard's voice was coming from. He quickly wiped his hand on his pants, thankful he was wearing all black - easier to hide the blood that way. He found Jaskier hidden behind a rock, sitting on his arse in the dirt. "I've hurt my ankle." The singer complained. "Twisted it trying to get away."

Geralt glowered down at the bard, his heart rate picking up slightly. "Can you stand?"

"Ah… I'll try." He crawled over to a boulder jutting out from the path, pulling himself up onto his good foot. He gingerly put down his injured ankle, yelping slightly before falling. Geralt caught him, grunting as the added weight tugged on the wound on his abdomen. He stood the bard back up, leaning him against the rock. "Geralt… I can't walk."

"Fuck." Geralt growled. He sat him down on the rock, bending down slowly to inspect the injury. "Can you move it?" Jaskier flexed his foot slightly, not able to hide the wince, but the foot moved. Geralt gently removed his boot, inspecting the foot, prodding softly. "Hmm." He turned and walked away, bringing Roach back towards him. "The next town isn't far." He said, helping Jaskier up into the saddle. The next town was at least a day's ride away, if they were lucky they would make it before nightfall. He brought his hand to his side, hiding a wince as a sharp pain ripped through his gut.

"We don't have any money for a healer." Jaskier complained. Geralt just frowned up at the bard incredulously, subtly wiping his hands on his pants again. Jaskier didn't notice, too caught up in trying to keep his sore foot in the stirrup.

"You think I don't know that?" He growled. "You've just twisted it, Jaskier. You just need rest. We have enough coin to stay in the tavern." Where he would be able to patch up his own wound, he thought. He didn't need the bard knowing about his injury until they were safely in their own room. Jaskier would only fret and make the situation worse.

They started down the beaten track, Geralt leading Roach, she had nickered in protest at Jaskier riding her while Geralt led. They carried on that way for a couple of hours, the terrain changing to forest. Jaskier prattled away about this and that, occasionally whining about his foot.

If Geralt was honest, he was starting to feel quite unwell. His vision had started swimming an hour ago, he was dizzy, his head feeling like it was stuffed with cotton wool. His belly had started gurgling with nausea and each step sent tendrils of pain shooting through his abdomen. He was cold, so very cold, but when he reached up to wipe his brow, his hand came away wet, sweat glistening on his face and soaking through his shirt. He shivered, crossing his arms across his chest. He snuck one of his hands down to the peak of the piercing pain, biting his lip when he felt how saturated his shirt and waistline of his pants were.

"-Geralt? Did you hear anything I just said?" Jaskier asked from atop of Roach. The Witcher ignored him, not turning around. "Geralt?" Jaskier called again.

The world was spinning, a vortex of colours, flickering sickeningly, dark spots dancing in his periphery. His heart was fluttering dangerously fast, blood roaring in his ears. Jaskier urged Roach forward, anxiety growing in his chest. He was starting to suspect Geralt wasn't ignoring him, but more so that he couldn't actually hear him. Geralt stopped suddenly, bringing a hand out to brace himself against a tree. Jaskier carefully dismounted Roach, using the mare to support himself, as he made his way over to the Witcher.

"Geralt?" He whispered again, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder.

Geralt felt Jaskier touch him, just as the world tilted dangerously, his vision greying. He swayed, trying to take a couple of deep breaths. His nausea increased, roaring in his belly, before his eyes rolled back in his head, darkness swallowing him.

Jaskier yelped, diving down to catch Geralt's head before it hit the ground, his sore foot long forgotten. "Geralt?!" He exclaimed, laying the unconscious man gently on the ground. Jaskier gasped when he finally saw Geralt's face for the first time in hours. He was pale, practically grey, and his skin was clammy, glistening with sweat. When the bard reached out to pat the other man's face, he realised with dread how cold he was.

What the fuck was going on?

He started patting the Witcher down, trying to work out what the problem was. He placed his hand over his stomach, pulling his hands back with a disgusted grimace as he touched something wet. His heart stuttered as he looked down at his own trembling fingers, glistening red blood coating his hands.

"Fuck… Geralt!" Jaskier called, desperately trying to get his friend to answer. Geralt's face twitched, but he didn't wake. "Ok, ok, ok, ok… don't panic…" Jaskier muttered, running a shaky hand through his hair. He brought his attention back to Geralt's abdomen, reaching out to carefully pull the Witcher's shirt out of his pants. Both bits of clothing were drenched in blood, and Jaskier realised with trepidation how much blood the other man had actually lost.

Why hadn't he said anything?

Guilt set like lead in his belly. Geralt hadn't said anything because they had been too worried about his stupid ankle.

"Fuck!" Jaskier cried, frustrated with himself and their situation. The stab wound itself was a couple of inches thick, blood still oozing steadily from the wound. Jaskier reached up, pulling his pack off of Roach's back, thankful that she had stayed by his side the entire time. "Good girl." He whispered, patting her leg. He quickly started rummaging through his pack, not even caring that he was getting blood over everything. He pulled out a clean shirt, bundling it up into a ball, before pressing down on Geralt's wound. That elicited a response from the Witcher. He groaned, weakly trying to bat the bard's hand away. "I know. I'm sorry I'm hurting you… but I need to try and stop this bleeding." Geralt's eyes fluttered, rolling in their sockets, but he never returned fully to consciousness.

Jaskier looked around, noticing a small clearing not far away. He needed to get a fire going. Geralt was freezing cold and the dimming light meant the sun was setting. The days were still warm, but the leaves were changing, the nights growing colder. If either of them stood a chance surviving the wilderness, he desperately needed to light a fire. He pressed down on Geralt's wound, this time the Witcher waking, grunting in agony.

"Oh thank fuck." Jaskier exclaimed, holding the bloodied shirt down on Geralt's abdomen. Geralt's eyes found the bard, blinking heavily to try and clear his greying vision. "Geralt… I need you to hold this down. I'm going to light a fire."

Geralt looked at him confused, but brought his hand down to replace Jaskier's, pressing down with a grunt. He shivered, his breaths coming out short and fast. Jaskier pulled his own cloak off, draping it over the other man's body. "I'll be right back." He whispered, before he quickly fished his other shoe out of his pack, pulling it on with a whimper. He swallowed down his own pain, pushing it to the back of his mind, before carefully placing his foot on the ground. He cried out, but managed to put his full weight on it. He looked back at his friend, offering a shaky smile, before limping off towards the clearing.

The clearing was thankfully well sheltered. Jaskier got to work, quickly gathering sticks and bits of wood for the fire. He mostly crawled around on his hands and knees, trying his best to keep the weight off of his foot. It took a bit of time, but eventually he had enough kindling to light the fire and keep it going for a good few hours. He could gather more once he had Geralt settled. He lit the fire quickly, so thankful he had purchased a decent steel and flint at the last town. Once it was going enough that he wasn't worried it would go out, he carefully got back to his feet, limping back to where his friend still lay, his horse still by his side.

He approached the Witcher, thankful to see he was still awake. He crouched down beside him, clasping his shoulder. "Come on. Let's get you by the fire." Geralt nodded, taking a deep breath before sitting up, groaning as the movement pulled at his wound. He felt the blood drain from his face, blinking rapidly as his vision threatened to blacken again. "Quickly." He muttered to Jaskier, worried he was going to pass out again. Jaskier took his advice, promptly helping the Witcher to his feet, using Roach to purchase himself. He hung his now bloodstained cloak over the Witcher's shuddering shoulders, before draping his friend's arm around his neck and biting back a cry as they started towards the clearing. The added weight of the Witcher nearly sent them sprawling back into the dirt, his injured foot spiking in pain. They limped to the clearing, practically collapsing in front of the fire. Roach following behind, snorting in concern.

Jaskier quickly pulled the rest of their packs and bedrolls off of Roach, laying them down beside Geralt. He helped him shuffle onto his bedroll, before he pulled out another clean shirt, pressing down on the wound again. "Fuck… it just won't stop bleeding." Jaskier lamented desperately.

Geralt moaned in pain when Jaskier pressed down harder, trying with all his might to get the blood flow to slow.

"Cauterize." Geralt rasped. Jaskier's eyes widened in horror.

"Melitele's tits Geralt… I-I can't do that." Jaskier stuttered.

Geralt grunted, reaching out to grab Jaskier's collar. "Please." He murmured. Jaskier swallowed, nodding softly. He wiped his bloodied hands on his trousers, pulling his knife out of his boot. He placed the blade in the fire, before returning his hands to the wound on Geralt's abdomen. "My pack… potion." Geralt slurred, the blood loss weakening him to a point where he could barely think straight.

Jaskier scrambled to Geralt's pack, bringing it back to the Witcher. With the aid of the other man, Jaskier finally located the potion Geralt needed. He uncorked it with his teeth, allowing the bard to help him sit up as he swallowed the concoction with a grimace.

The Witcher eyed the heating blade. "I'm probably going to pass out… when you -" He shrugged, not really wanting to think about the pain that was in his near future. "You'll need to wrap the wound tightly… I'll be unconscious for a while… the potion I just took will aid in healing the wound, as well as restoring my blood volume." He was tiring quickly, but he could see how scared the bard was. He had never had to deal with something like this in his privileged life. He reached up, taking Jaskier's bloodied hand in his own. "You can do this." He slurred.

Jaskier blinked, willing himself not to cry. His friend needed him. He would seal the wound, Geralt would sleep and then it would all be ok… right? Geralt held his gaze, squeezing his fingers, before nodding slightly. It was time.

Jaskier removed the blood soaked shirt off of Geralt's injury, wiping away as much of the blood as he could to try and find the small, yet deadly wound. "Okay." He muttered. "Here goes everything." He reached out, grabbing the hilt of his knife. He looked at the Witcher's pale, clammy face one more time, before pressing the red hot knife straight onto the wound on his belly. Geralt yelled out, a gutteral scream emitting behind clenched teeth as his skin sizzled and steamed. Jaskier had to clamp his own mouth shut to stop himself vomiting from the smell of burnt flesh. Geralt let out another haunting howl, before his eyes rolled into the back of his head, his body going limp.

Jaskier pulled the knife off of Geralt's skin, gagging slightly as the heated blade stuck to his skin. The threw the knife to the side, inspecting the wound again. The skin was an angry red and raw, alreading beginning to pucker and blister, but the bleeding had stopped. Jaskier quickly sat the other man up, holding his limp body against his own as he quickly wound the bandage around his abdomen. Once the bandage was secured, he gently lay the unconscious man back onto his bedroll, softly wiping his silver hair off his face. He covered him with a thick blanket, pulling it up to his chin. Jaskier breathed a sigh of relief, falling back onto his arse. He had done his part, Geralt's potion just needed to do the rest.

Jaskier spent the next few minutes gathering a bit more firewood, and filling up their water canteens from the nearby stream. He took a few extra moments, carefully washing the blood off his hands. He felt nauseous, watching the water turn pink as it carried the blood downstream. He returned to camp quickly, not wanting to leave Geralt alone for too long should he wake. He packed the camp up a little, setting his own bedroll right besides Geralt's so he was able to keep an eye on his friend. Now that his adrenaline was starting to wear off, Jaskier's foot started throbbing like hell. He slowly took his shoes off, hissing in pain as he wiggled his toes. A deep purple bruise was blossoming up the side of his rapidly swelling ankle.

He sighed, stretching out his leg, trying to keep the limb as still as possible. He would wrap it later, right now he just needed to nurse his own ego for a short while. Images of Geralt collapsing, to the bright red blood and the stench of burning flesh, had Jaskier trembling. He knew he was going through a particularly rough adrenaline crash, possibly going into shock. His grandmother had always taught him "If someone's upset, offer them a good cup of sweet tea." So that's what he did. He pulled their kettle out of one of the packs, setting to work boiling some water.

While he waited for the water to boil, he quickly wrapped his injured foot, sighing slightly at the relief the stability brought. Once the water was ready, he made himself a cup of chamomile tea, hoping it would help soothe his frayed nerves. He sipped at his cup, eying his friend wearily. The Witcher hadn't so much as twitched since Jaskier had lain him back down. His face was ghostly white, dark rings shadowing his eyes, making him look more dead than alive. That thought had Jaskier scrambling back over to the Witcher, tentatively placing a hand on his chest. The soft rising and fall of his chest, made Jaskier nearly pass out in relief.

He placed his fingers on Geralt's forehead, sighing at how cold his friend still felt. He added a few more logs to the fire, before making a quick decision. He pulled his own blanket over, before crawling onto the bedroll, carefully wrapping the ailing man in his arms. He could feel Geralt's muscles trembling, small shivers wracking his large frame. He pulled the blankets up, covering them both securly. Jaskier hummed softly, running his fingers up and down Geralt's arm, hoping that whatever he was doing, was helping the other man.

Geralt groaned slightly, his face contorting in discomfort, as his eyes fluttered open. Jaskier crawled back to his side, bringing his water canteen up to his lips. Geralt took a few mouthfuls before pulling away. "How're you feeling?" Jaskier asked, reaching out to place his hand on Geralt's forehead again. His temperature was normal.

Eventually his exhaustion won and he fell asleep, not waking again until the early hours of the morning. He woke, groaning slightly at the weight pinning him down, but was relieved to find that the other man was warm, and not overly so. He shuffled out from under him, squinting in the growing light to try and see his face better. A little colour had returned to his cheek, his face a lot more relaxed.

He crawled out from under the blankets, wincing as his foot throbbed at the movement. He ignored the pain, poking the embers of the fire, before adding a few small dry sticks, trying to get it to catch again. After a few minutes, the fire was crackling merrily again, lighting up the small clearing.

"Alive." The Witcher replied, shuffling slightly to sit up. He brought his hand to his midsection, grimacing at the movement. "I passed out?" He asked, though the question was mostly rhetorical. Jaskier nodded, helping his friend get comfortable by placing one of their packs behind him.

"Pretty promptly." Jaskier murmured, filling the kettle from his own canteen and placing it on the fire to boil. Geralt frowned, looking at the bard in concern.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice gravelly. The question took the bard by surprise. Geralt wasn't usually one to show care this forthcoming. He just nodded, poking the fire with a stick. "You… ah… you did good."

Jaskier looked up at the Witcher, frowning slightly at the other man. Geralt looked uncomfortable, clearly out of his comfort zone. Jaskier chose to smile, not wanting his friend to suffer any more than he already had.

"I… ah…when you're well… when you're feeling better… would you teach me some basic skills? Like how to stitch a wound properly… what your potions are and what ones I need to know to save your life… I just… I felt so helpless yesterday… I didn't know what I was doing and if you hadn't have been able to talk me through what to do… I don't know what would have happened." He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.

Geralt frowned at the bard. All these months he had tried and failed to get the other man to leave him alone, but it seemed now he had definitely proven more useful than not. It wouldn't hurt to teach him the basics. The Path was dangerous, and while Jaskier might not be able to defend himself, he could definitely help patch the Witcher up should the need arise. "Ok." He said, choosing not to make too much of a fuss.

Jaskier looked at him in surprise, but schooled his features quickly, nodding. "Thank you." He murmured, his voice cracking slightly. The water started boiling, and Jaskier got to work, quickly making Geralt a cup of tea, adding a generous amount of honey. He knew that the sugar would help with the blood loss, though from the looks of things, the Witcher was well on his way to healing. His potion and his Witcher mutagens, both working to get the other man back to full health quickly.

"Your foot?" Geralt asked, gesturing to Jaskier's awkward crawl as he handed him the cup.

"It's alright." Jaskier muttered. He didn't want to talk about his injury. If he didn't hurt himself, Geralt wouldn't have ended up as sick as he did.

Geralt chose not to comment, though he would find a way to get a healer to look at it when they made it to the next town. He took a sip of the tea, nodding his approval at Jaskier's watchful eye.

They decided to stay in the clearing another night, Geralt's body not quite recovered enough for travel. He had asked Jaskier about the sleeping arrangement, and Jaskier had quietly mumbled about how he had kept the Witcher warm during the night, hoping not to embarrass his very proud friend. Geralt kept his face impassive throughout the explanation, though inside, an unfamiliar feeling was clenching in his gut. The bard had kept him alive.

Yes.

He was definitely proving to be more useful than not. He could definitely trust this man. He had already saved his life once, with absolutely no experience, and he would definitely put his life in his hands again.

#badthinghappenbingo #the witcher #fanfiction #fic #geralt fanfic #jaskier #whump #geralt of rivia

[emmylubooks]

Me convincing you to read my fanfic by posting the first chapter

Mind you it’s the first chapter so the romance with emilia and cam isn’t here yet 😉

I looked around at the bowls scattered around the room, each filled with a different batter corresponding to each person's favorite. Peaches for me, strawberry for Jere, raspberry for Conrad, blueberry for Steven, Lemon for the moms, and all the leftover batter in a bowl to make mixed fruit for Belly. Mom was cutting flowers and getting the house ready for their arrival. Conrad and Jere would be on kitchen cleanup duty because I was the one who put in the effort to bake.

Conrad walked downstairs in his boxers with his hair all messed up, "Mornin' sleeping beauty," I laughed as he dipped his finger in the peach batter. "No, no no... you will die."

"Oh please," he laughed, putting his finger in his mouth.

"Idiot. Mom! The idiot ate peaches."

She put the flowers down and turned around, "How do you feel?"

He rolled his eyes, "I'm fine, she's dramatic," he said, scratching the sides of his face.

"Yeah, so dramatic," I said, mocking his scratching.

Mom shook her head and went back to her flowers, "Go take some Benadryl, get clothes on, and fix your hair. Wake Jere up while you are at it. They will be here in a half-hour."

I scooped the filling into the little sugar cookie tarts and put them in the fridge so they would be ready to eat when the Conklin's got here.

I walked up to my room to change, peaking into the bathroom where Conrad was using a palm-full of my face wash to wash his face. "What are you doing?" I snapped, taking the bottle out of his hand.

"My face itches from the peach thing, Peaches," he said, scrubbing his face.

I shook my head and handed him a towel, "I told you that you would die, it's not my fault."

He put his hands up in defense, "I thought that you meant you were going to kill me for eating your food."

"Nope. It was the peaches."

"You couldn't have said that?" He asked, getting more pissed off than he should have.

I raised an eyebrow at him, "If you gave me more than two seconds to speak I would have."

He took his fist and beat down on the counter of the sink, "Well it's too late for that now, I don't know what you want from me."

"I want you to calm down, first off," I said, at his outburst. "What is going on, glasses?"

He paused for a minute and sat on the side of the tub, "You aren't worried that dad is going to come to the party?" He asked, looking up at me.

"I am... I am too, it's not just you. Jere is over the moon about it, though," I laughed.

He rolled his eyes, "Oh, I know."

"Conrad! Emilia!" Mom yelled from downstairs.

"Shit," he whispered, "They are here I have to get ready, stall for me?"

I looked at him with big eyes, "I have to get ready."

We looked at each other and spoke at the same time, "Jere!" We yelled.

He ran up the stairs passing then backtracking to the bathroom, "What?"

"Can you stall... please?" Conrad asked.

"Only if I get extra dessert later," he said before running back downstairs.

I ran into my room and opened my bag, I pulled out the first things I saw. A pair of jean shorts, a white cropped tank top and a green button-down which I was pretty sure was Conrad's.

"EM!" Conrad yelled from his bedroom which was unfortunately right next to mine.

I ran into his room quickly, worried something was wrong, "What? What's wrong?"

"Have you seen my green button-down?" He asked as he looked up at me and stopped rummaging through his bags.

My eyes widened and I quickly took off the shirt, throwing it into the hall, "No... I haven't but Belly and Steven are here so Imma go see my favorite brother."

He ran towards me and tickled me until I fell to the ground, "Who's your favorite brother?" He asked.

I tried to wiggle, "You, stop. You, it's you."

"Me what?" He asked, with his hands ready to tickle me again.

"You, the best twin brother in the world. Conrad 'glasses' Fisher. It's you. Please stop."

He stopped immediately after, "I better be your favorite brother."

"As long as I'm your favorite sibling," I smiled.

He looked down at me for a minute, "Actually, Jere is my favorite."

I looked at him with big eyes, forcing them to fill with tears, "Oh," I whispered.

"No no no no no don't cry, don't cry I was kidding." He frantically said.

I started laughing, at the fact that I could still get what I wanted with fake tears.

"That was cold. You're lucky we have to go downstairs," he said, poking me in the side before we walked down to great Belly and her family.

Jeremiah had run out in front of me and hugged everyone before I had even made it down the steps.

When I saw Belly, I looked at Conrad and made a kissy face. We locked eyes and both decided it was a race on who was going to hug her first this summer. I pushed him into the flower garden and ran over to Belly, wrapping my arms around her.

"I missed you so much! Are you copying us with the no glasses thing?" I laughed.

She smiled and hugged me again, "You could say that.”

"You are kinda a bitch sometimes, baby sister," Conrad said, pulling Belly away from me.

I rolled my eyes, "I'm literally three minutes younger than you. Three."

He ignored me gazing blissfully into Belly's eyes. Gross.

"I liked you better with glasses," I heard him say.

She smiled and scrunched her nose, "Too bad, I like me better without them."

Hell, if he can get over all of the shit that Aubrey put him through, he and Belly would be perfect together.

Steven interrupted my thoughts yelling, "I don't know about you, but I think it's time for," Jere finished his thought with him, "a Belly flop!”

"No, no," I yelled, wrapping my arms around Conrad as he lifted Belly. They all grabbed onto her and ran her to the pool. They all ran with me hanging like a koala onto Conrad's back.

Despite my protests, they threw her in. Then, Conrad looked at me, throwing me in after her. Thinking quickly, I held onto him as I went in so he came down with me.

I watched as he swam over to Belly, holding her under the water, each of them having a blissful look when they came to the surface. I smiled, seeing him happy for one of the first times this summer, but making a note to make fun of him for his romance novel motion later that night.

#cam cameron #conrad fisher #its not summer without you #jeremiah fisher #the summer i turned pretty #tsitp #tsitp fanfic #we’ll always have summer #cam cameron x oc #team cam cameron #belly conklin #steven conklin #the summer i turned pretty fanfic #tsitp request

[pisayers]

A Dinner at a Pizza Place

I am not writing this to get your attention, but to let the world know how much of a fucking asshole you are for ruining our family dinner that night at my favorite pizza place. The once enchanted place where I had my debut and the past birthdays before that is now my Cornelia Street. Even the thought of me in a taxi passing by the carnival roof and the orange-tinted windows of that pizza place makes me remember your stupid face, and it hurts.

I was sitting in my favorite blue dress, the frills dancing with the wind blown by the electric fan behind me. You sat to my right in what I could only describe as the laziest outfit you could have pulled off. You would think that a man who cares so much about name brand watches and perfume would at least meet my father and my mother in something more than a half zipped-up varsity jacket, wrinkled white tee, and tattered jeans. But I didn’t care. All I needed was that sequin smile of yours to prove to them why I let you in my delicate heart.

Mommy was to my left in full green scrubs and a stethoscope still hanging on her neck. Her dark eye bags and frazzled hair only made her more beautiful in my eyes for she made time for me despite her cramped schedule. I want to be like mother one day. Daddy on the other hand, can fuck off if he wants to. The aviator shades on top of his bald head and the short blunt pencil dangling on his right ear made him look like your stereotypical carpenter, but he was just a jobless piggybacking leach who made mommy’s life a living hell. With a polo shirt that smelled of whiskey and a breath that stunk of cigarette smoke, having him on the dinner table was simply to tolerate him rather than to love him.

Along with a few other relatives that I would much rather not talk about, we were celebrating my acceptance in the Big 4 universities, my top choices granted in all four of the highly esteemed institutions. You still went to the dinner with me even if you failed two of them, and you were down in the dumps because of it. My heart was beating out of my chest, but I wanted to cheer you up a little.

I squeezed your hand three times to say I love you, but you squeezed mine back only two times. Behind that pearly white smile, you were sad. It’s one squeeze per word, and you would always squeeze four times to say I love you too. I rested my head on your shoulder to let you know that I was here for you, but you didn’t lean on my head to say you were here for me too. I tried to look at those brown eyes to see if you were okay, but you closed them and turned to the side to let me know that you were not. I’m mildly annoyed that you went to this dinner in a gloomy mood, but I didn’t want to ruin this special day. Perhaps I can make you happy once the pizza comes around.

Mommy flags down the waiter from the counter and your eyes light up. She walks down the steps whipping out a ballpoint pen and a green spiral notepad from her back pocket and your stare tracks her every move. It was Whitney from school. I was pissed. Again. How was I, in my best dress and four hours of makeup I did for you, going to compete with her, a model who could still walk the runway in her natural look and work uniform? I suppose her fair skin from head to toe was refreshing when all you see everyday is the acne on my forehead and the blemishes all over my tan body. I suppose that body of hers she keeps in shape overtakes the hip dips and belly fats when your hands run down the contours of my waist. I suppose the D-cup breasts she flaunts in her tight polo shirt is everything compared to my grape tits.

Maybe it’s the personality? She was a star gymnast and volleyball captain while I was simply an average star Scrabble player. She has a large group of friends, but I’m just a floater in our batch. She’s balancing competitions, organizations, and this part-time job, while I was too busy with my academics to branch out. She had everything. I had nothing.

Mommy asked for what I wanted and I said the usual. Pepperoni pizza with cheese criss cut fries on the side. Whitney waves at us and I wave back with a genuine smile as you swipe through the homepage of your phone pretending that you didn’t see her. Mommy asks for daddy’s order and he says anything on the menu—that’s code for “order me anything so that I can grab a piece from all of your other plates later.” Lastly, mommy asks for your order and you stumble on your words trying to say you wanted my order. Whitney waves again to see if you saw her this time, and you wave back with a sheepish grin on your face.

Mommy waves Whitney over to the other table with relatives and she tries kickstarting a conversation to break the ice. She asks you what course you’re taking and you say Petroleum Engineering, a question mark forming on daddy’s forehead because all he wants is for his children to be in the medical field, a disappointment for a Computer Science girlie like me. She asks you where you plan on working and you say somewhere in Saudi Arabia, even though you told me before that you planned on shifting to another course. You keep looking back at the counter to see if she’s there, but she isn’t. Can you stop lying to me, babe?

Whitney comes in with two pepperoni pizzas on wooden boards and props them on a metal platform for us to eat. Mommy shifts the platform over to us and we start cutting our slices with the roller blade. I always liked biting the crust first, and you smiled at me with that same smile you gave me when I first did it with a slice of a three-cheese pizza in the school cafeteria. For those five seconds, I felt like you were mine. I felt like there was no one else in the world that could take you away from me, that you could hold me in your arms forever and I could bury my face in your chest to forget all my worries in the world.

But Whitney brushes past you and I feel like I’ve been yanked away from your arms once again. You watch as she sways her hips in a silly dance to the restaurant theme music. You locked your eyes on her for too long. I tug on your arm to try and get your attention and you jolt your head back to face me as if you were in a trance just a moment ago. I didn’t want to fight, so I gave you a small smirk to mask the strain in my throat. I wanted to cry.

Whitney comes back with the other two pepperoni pizzas, one for mommy and one supposedly for daddy. You grabbed a fork and knife and started sawing your way through the tip of the pizza to my chagrin. Mommy chuckled a bit and told you it was fine to hold it with your hands and you pounced on the opportunity immediately to grab the slice, fold the corners, and chomp on nearly half the pizza. With pizza sauce all over your mouth, I grab a piece of tissue paper and tried to wipe it away, only for you to yank my arm down and wipe it with the sleeve of your varsity jacket. What is going on, babe? You’ve never done that before.

You continued to munch down on your pizza slice, your greasy hands glossy under the lantern draped in red Japanese paper above us. You lick the residue of pizza sauce on your thumb and wipe your hands on the tablecloth. If mommy and daddy saw your table manners, they would have kicked you out on the spot. I suppose I thank you for being at least discrete about it. But still. We have to talk about them later, if you will even bother to look at me this evening.

I asked how you were doing and you said you were full. You reclined on your chair, exposing the beer belly under your wrinkled white tee, now stained with three dots of hot sauce on your navel area. I zipped up your varsity jacket to cover the spots, but you zipped it back down violently and glared at me like I did something wrong. I was scared. I wanted to run across the table and hug mommy. What has gotten into you?

You quickly get up and let the table know that you were going out to get fresh air. I follow your movement with my puppy eyes and watch as you pull on the screen door, disappearing as you move down the steps. My gaze is still on that screen door. Mommy taps me on the elbow and asks me if I’m going to finish my last slice of pizza. I say yes and immediately grab it. I take a bite.

Daddy asks me how I’m doing and I say I’m doing great. He asks me if I have any plans later and I say none. He asks me more nonsensical questions and I give him more one-word answers. Mommy is on her phone. She’s probably chatting with an ER nurse or a resident in the hospital. Daddy tries to sneak a peek at her phone and mommy shields it immediately, a disgusted look on her face that isn’t erased for a few minutes.

Suddenly, I catch a glimpse of Whitney outside the restaurant, her curly brunette hair up against the orange-tinted window. Then, it hit me. My gut feeling assumed the worst. My heart sank. I got up and rushed outside as daddy pulled the hem of my dress asking what was wrong. To my surprise, his skinny arms managed to rip off part of the frills, and I gave him a death stare for him to back off. In a comical attempt to apologize, he fumbled on his words and the pencil on his ear fell to the ground. Mommy half-heartedly helped him up, lifting him by the armpits and dropping him on the chair like he was a box of supplies from the grocery store. If only he cared more about me than the actual aesthetic of that dangling pencil, maybe my childhood would have turned out much better.

I push the screen door, greeted by the cool breeze and blinding sunshine. I shielded the sun’s beams with my left arm and scanned the parking lot, only to find an overflowing dumpster, a gray Camry, and a Montero pickup truck in the vicinity. I walked around and around and around the building, but neither you nor Whitney were in sight. Stop hiding from me, babe.

An ear-piercing scream echoes throughout the restaurant. Customers inside perked their heads up almost in unison, with some even standing up from their seats like meerkats warding off predators in the savannah. Mommy stormed out the door looking for me and I ran to her with my heart sinking beneath my feet. She wrapped me up in the warmest embrace I could find, and behind her. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

Whitney stumbled on the restaurant steps, the buttons on her polo shirt undone and the hairnet barely dangling on her braided bun. I yanked mommy’s arms off of me and ran to her as fast as I could. Before she could set foot on the door, I grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around, only to find a black eye and a large cut at the bottom of your lips. Tears flowed down her now red cheeks as she tried to catch her breath while collapsing to the ground.

In almost an instant, you came around the corner fuming and fists clenched. But you saw me with a worried look on my face and you stopped like a deer in headlights. Your lips quivered. Your shoulders tensed up. Your legs froze. You ran away. You’re a monster, Dom.

#student

[craftermane]

Chokehold - Made For You (Part 3)

I decided to do this final chapter twice, like a branching path kind of thing. Hoping it's enjoyed.

His pleasure was cut short by Daddy narrowing his eyes at him. Daddy had been making him save up that load for weeks, and Jimmy hadn't been given permission to cum. And this wasn't the first time. It happened every few weeks. Jimmy was ashamed, and Daddy Jeff was thinking he really needed to do something about that little problem. At least the boy's throat tightened up nicely when he came. Still, they'd been in there for awhile, and it was about time they headed home. he boy was going to have a rough weekend, now. Jeff held Jimmy's face down until he could tell from the look in Jimmy's apologetic eyes he was about to pass out, and yanked him up by his hair at the last second. Jimmy, gasped in a deep breath of air, collapsing on the ground at his Daddy's feet. He wanted to apologise for being such a bad boy, but he didn't say a word. He started licking Jeff's dirty boots. Daddy always said a true apology was done by actions, not words.

Jeff appreciated the sight, and that his boy knew the right way to apologise, but there'd be time for that later. He pulled his boy up to his knees and gave a couple quick, sharp kicks to his boy's balls through the soggy jockstrap. The boy grimaced and was still breathing heavy, but he didn't recoil or flinch at the pain, and kept quiet. With the look he'd been given, he knew he wasn't to say another word until told otherwise. Jeff got his clothes back on. He pulled Jimmy to his feet and clipped a length of chain to his collar and Jeff's own belt. He looked harshly into Jimmy's eyes, and Jimmy averted his eyes in shame. Jeff leaned in close and growled in his ear. "Cumming without permission. You're gonna be punished for that, boy." Jimmy gulped nervously and nodded. "You're going to hate it. And you're going to worship me for it. I know best." Jeff could tell through the jock that his boy's nub was straining his cage again in spite of itself. He held back a sigh. He really needed to do something about that.

Eyes were staring and magic was swelling as the duo barged out of the washroom and marched back to their table. Jimmy especially had such a glow only I could see, much more vibrant than he'd had before. And it wasn't just with Jeff's desires. It looked like Jeff's recycled beer had also caused Jimmy's own desires to shape himself too. Hmmm, I hadn't even thought of that. I'll have to remember that for later. Jimmy had become quite the butterball, short, smooth and greasy. His jockstrap and too-short wifebeater were once white, but so thoroughly stained with piss and sweat and lube they didn't have a speck of white left on them. The waistband of the jock was tight around his waist, his exposed belly muffining out above it. Through the jock's dripping wet pouch, one could just make out the outline of the small chastity cage he was locked in. His flabby ass cheeks were massive, and the only hair on him was his short, greasy blond ponytail.

Standing a head and a half taller was his Daddy, Jeff. His open leather vest showed of his muscular, heavily carpeted chest, lustrous with sweat. His shoulders broad, his arms and hands thick and strong. He wasn't fat, but he had a nice bit of belly over his muscled stomach. His black jeans showed off his nice ass, thick legs, and the telltale outline of his massive flaccid cock. His head was a shiny bald, and his beard was thick and flawless. He was lightly greying, and he wore it well. I couldn't help but feel proud of my craft. They were nearly a perfect pair.

Jeff and Jimmy walked back to their table, where Jeff's half-finished beer was still waiting for them, long since gone warm. Jeff grabbed the glass and chugged down the rest quickly. He handed the glass to Jimmy, and Jimmy picked his own empty glass up as well, to take the two glasses back up to the bar. Jeff always stressed the importance of good manners. But with so many eyes on them, and the half a beer starting to work its magic on Jeff, he was about to take the full brunt of a lightning round of desires. And with the sheer amount of lust and desire in the air, mingling with the magicks, I could tell it wasn't just him that was going to be effected. A chain necklace found its way around Jeff's neck, from it hanging several keys. Master Jeff was a well-respected Dom and trusted keyholder in he local kink community> He showed off every key with pride, some by now permanently sealed in resin, but his boy's was set apart on a ring in the center. He smiled at his friends Dave and Chris as he passed by. Chris's key was one of the resined ones, a condition for Jeff being his then-boyfriend now-husband Dave's bull. Their relationship had never been better. Another few steps, another round of changes as Jeff's jeans became chaps and a leather jockstrap with a yellow stripe. Another few steps, and a paddle was hanging from his belt loop, with still-healing impact bruises forming on Jimmy's rear. A few of the bar patrons shifted in their seats, having a difficult time sitting down fully. Then a large bottle of lube appeared tucked into his waistband, and a black and red band of leather appeared on his left arm.

Master Jeff and boy Jimmy arrived at the bar, where Jimmy placed the empty glasses. Their favourite bartender, KC, took he glasses and thanked them. "Have a nice night."

Master Jeff chuckled. "Well, I will. But can't say the same for the boy." Jimmy looked down ashamed. "Came without permission again. But I have an idea." Jeff leaned in towards KC and whispered loud enough where he knew Jimmy would still hear it. "Got a new cage in today. Smaller and spiked on the inside. That outta teach that nub who owns it." Jimmy visibly blushed dark red. Master Jeff just grinned. "And silicone. Squeezeable. Gonna have a lot of fun with those spikes. And with no papers to grade this weekend, he's gonna have my full atention. See you next week." With that, he turned to the door, tugged at boy Jimmy's chain for him to follow, and the pair left the bar to head to their home.

[nyssandracousland]

Chapter 9

Nyss woke up with her door cracked open, she decided to peek out and could hear two voices coming from down the hall. She could tell one was Cullen and the other Greagoir.

“You will be there.” Greagoir said then started to walk away.

Nyss didn’t hear anything else from the conversation, except the slow footsteps of who she assumed was Cullen approach. She backed away from the door and dove into bed. Her door slowly open, and Cullen stood in her doorway.

“Hello?” She said from her bed.

“Oh My Lady I am so glad you are finally awake.” He said relieved.

“What time is it?”

“After midday, I wanted you to sleep, I felt you needed the real rest.” He said.

Cullen didn’t seem himself, he came in and sat on the edge of her bed.

“What’s troubling you?” She asked, placing her hand on his arm.

“Nothing My Lady, just tired. Someone kept me awake last night.” He forced a smile.

Nyss knew something was bothering him. “Have I said or done anything to offend you?”

Cullen looked into her caring eyes and could see himself in their reflection. “You have been almost too perfect.” He smiled, then straightened himself up. “Come! You have a little left to see around the Tower and the day is short.”

Nyss put on her cloak and shoes. Cullen leafed through a book while she arranged her hair. She could see him glance at her from the corner of her eye, and she could feel a her cheek grown warm.

“I wanted to show you something special today. Not many people are allowed in, but I have been granted to show you the reliquary where we keep the phylacteries before they are sent to Denerim.” He said.

“What is a phylactery?”

“When each mage comes here we take a vial of their blood. This blood is kept stored and if they ever were to run away, we Templars use it to track down the run away mage.” He said quietly.

Nyss softly recoiled, “So you are saying it’s their leash?”

“Yes.”

“So why tell me?” She felt slightly bothered by knowing this.

“You deserve to know. You asked me about The Harrowing and I obliged, I figured this was something else you should be made aware of.”

Nyss took a moment to think on what he said. Even if Emmy some day escaped from the Tower she could be tracked down and hunted like a beast. However the implication is to have a mage freed, you must destroy it so they cannot be tracked.

“Thank you for telling me.” His honesty was really getting the better of her. She really didn’t think that a Templar would be this forthcoming with information.

Cullen lead Nyss deep into the heart of the Tower. There were no windows, and no lit torches apart from the one they carried. Deeper into the belly they went and finally came to a locked door.

Cullen waved his hand in front of it and it slowly creaked open. They walked inside and he lit the brazier on the floor. Light flooded the room. It was full of vials and vials of mage blood.

“I thought you said it all goes to Denerim?”

“Once you pass your Harrowing, until then it stays here.”

Nyss examined the vials and the walls lined with even more mage artifacts. There were staves and cowls. Some robes, and tomes.

“Has anyone tried to break in here?” She asked.

“A few times. Some have been successful, but we have wards up and most do not make it past them.” He looked down. “It’s a death sentence for anyone magical to try.”

He walked over to a shelf and grabbed a particularly beautifully shaped vial. He handed it to her.

“What’s this?”

“That is Emmy’s phylactery.” He said calmly.

“Why hand it to me? I could smash it and she would be halfway to being free.” She asked.

“I trust you not to. I know you won’t do something like that.”

Nyss nodded. The vial was beautiful. Purple and blue glass, mixed with hints of red. The label read “Emelie Amell, Lady of Highever.” She half grinned.

“I had them write that on there. Give her the dignity she deserves.” He softly said, placing his hand on her arm gently.

Nyss closed her eyes and exhaled. “I appreciate you trusting me with this is, but I fear I am quite uneasy being in here.”

“Let’s leave then.” He carefully restored the vial to the illuminated shelf, “Care for a game of chess?”

“Anything.”

As quickly as they entered it seemed they had left. Cullen first up the stairs and then Nyss right behind him. They made their way back all the way up to the balcony they played their game on.

There they sat for hours, enchanted by strategy and one another. The Frost Backs glistened with snow and the sun slowly went down behind them. Nyss felt chill crawl up her spine. The breeze had picked up and Cullen seemed to notice it too.

“Let’s go in My Lady, your nose is turning a lovely pink, and my stomach tells me it’s nearly supper time.” He smiled.

They cleaned up their game and walked alongside each other to the Great Hall. When they entered Nyss could smell the warm aroma of herbs and meat. She took a deep breath.

“It smells fantastic in here.” She said.

“Tonight’s meal is special, we only get it once in a while, and since we have a special guest I wanted to share it with you.” He smiled.

“Me?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Of course you. It’s a Ferelden special. Turnip and Mutton pie with a lovely side of Hearth Bread and Golden Scythe 4:90 Black.” He smiled.

“It sounds delicious.” She grinned.

The pair sat at their table and other Templars joined. Nyss ate and drank happily as the other men spoke of their lives to her. She asked each one how they came to the Circle and what their aspirations for it were.

They all wanted something better for Thedas, was the consensus. She wasn’t going to argue, but she also didn’t want to evoke any anger towards Mages so she kept her opinions to herself and kept drinking.

She smiled as each Templar told her about their families and how even though they rarely see them, they love the life they have serving the Maker. She admired their devotion, even if it was to a sad cause.

A while later Cullen stood and told her it was time for bed. Nyss excused herself from the table and they walked back to her chambers. Cullen walked slower than usual. The drink making his senses a little fuzzy. Nyss held onto him so she wouldn’t tumble over. She then started to laugh at absolutely nothing.

“What’s so funny?” He asked.

“I just realized I sat around with Templars drinking all night.” She giggled. “You have to tell me did I make a fool of myself?”

Cullen leaned against the hallway wall and chuckled. “Not at all Nyss. You kept your composure quite well.”

That was the first time he called her Nyss.

She blushed.

“I’m glad, I didn’t want the liquor to loosen my tongue. I might have embarrassed myself and everyone.” She smiled.

“You were magnificent. A drinker to contend with!” He said emphatically.

“Shhhh” Nyss shushed him, “People are sleeping.”

Cullen laughed. “I haven’t had this much fun in my entire life.” He glanced at his feet and put his hand behind his head, “I really wish you didn’t have to leave.”

“We have all day tomorrow to enjoy, then I can see my friend and we can take off into the sunrise!” She said happily, almost as if wishing it to be truth.

Cullen opened the room door for her, and then grabbed her hand as she walked by. “Thank you My Lady for an enchanting evening.” He kissed the back of it slowly. He soft lips left a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Nyss heart beat so loud she knew he could hear it.

“Odd how you can find someone in life who can wiggle their way into your heart so quickly when you allow it.” He mused, slowly letting her go.

“Goodnight Ser Templar.” Her cheeks rosy,. “We truly find things in unexpected places.”

“Goodnight Nyssandra Visus Cousland, I will be here if you need me.” He bowed.

She shut the door and melted against the back of it. ‘So this is what it feels like.’ She thought as she sat on the floor. Slowly Nyss moved to the bed and watched the world spin around her as she drifted to sleep.

Nyss woke up realizing the end of her stay would be tomorrow and she could finally see Emmy. She was excited, but also in a bit of a fog. She had drank quite a bit the night before but remembered the last of it perfectly.

Nyss got dressed and braided her hair into a crown around her head. When she opened her door to find Cullen, he was still laying on his cot. She smiled, ‘He drank a bit too much too.’ She walked over and sat on the thin edge of his bed.

“Ser?” She tapped him on the shoulder.

“Mmm, I said the Chant twice before I fell asleep, leave me be.” He mumbled.

“Cullen, it’s time to wake up or I’ll go roam the Tower alone.” She threatened teasingly.

That seemed to rouse him. “No my lady!” He startled awake

“I’m just kidding!” She laughed.

“Makers breath, you are a sight to wake up too. I’m sorry I over slept, I fear I let myself go too far last night.”

“No harm, come let’s go eat breakfast.”

Cullen got up and put on his boots, and straightened his robes. Nyss folded his blanket and handed him his gloves.

They walked together to the Great Hall and sat at their table. Fine cheeses and hot oatmeal was served. They ate in silence until their minds returned to their normal state.

“Do not Templars have a draft that gets rid of this?”

“Ha! If only. I would do it all again though for last night. You really are the most fun.”

Nyss smiled at Cullen she was glad he could have fun with her. She was happy her mind had wandered away from Emmy.

“It’s my last full day here is it not?” She asked

“Yes, tomorrow morning they will make her pass the final test.”

“But it’s not a Harrowing right? That means she will be fine.”

Cullen scraped his bowl with his spoon. He swallowed and looked at Nyss. “It is not the Harrowing, but it is still as dangerous for her.”

Nyss eyes widened. A flicker of disbelief crossed her face. “You mean, she could be possessed?”

Cullen nodded.

Nyss leaned back and stared at the Great Halls ceiling. She knew what it meant for someone to be possessed. Instant death. ‘Emmy is strong, she’s made it this far.’ She reasoned.

Nyss closed her eyes and could feel Cullens gaze on her. She slowly opened her eyes and saw him staring at her. “It’s okay, Emmy is strong. She is a force. She will be fine.” He reached for her and squeezed her hand.

“So far it seems as if things are alright. No news is good news.” He said.

Nyss tilted her head to one side as she watched the Young Templar drink the last few drops from his goblet. The blue in his robes made the veins in his neck look bright. She did not want to, but she felt as if she was allowing herself to trust him. “Please, keep me occupied today.” She said quietly.

Cullen reached to her again, and placed his hand on the back of hers out of comfort. Electricity shot through her limbs. “That is exactly what I planned on doing.” His voice low, and reassuring.

Cullen walked Nyss through the gardens, and kept her mind busy with stories of his childhood. Cullen was a model child, and always did what he was told, while Nyss felt a little guilty being the one who kept getting in trouble with everyone, and told Cullen of the time she put itching salts in her fathers robes.

“You were feisty as a child. I suppose there’s nothing wrong with that.” He said with a smile.

Cullen was smiling a lot more and to Nyss, it was nice to see. Almost as if he forgot himself as a Templar. She liked that, it humanize him a great deal, and she felt even more comfortable with him at her side.

The pair walked through a small patch of crystal Grace and as they did, he instinctively reached down and handed her a flower.

“What’s this for?” Nyss said examining the stunning colors.

“Oh, sorry I didn’t think of the implication. I just saw it and thought you’d like it.” He said quickly.

“Thank you.” She smiled. “It is beautiful.”

“Just like the woman I handed it to.” He said so quietly Nyss was sure she heard him incorrectly.

They continued to walk through the gardens, Nyss could see sparks flying from the other side of a high wall. “Whats on the other side of this?” Nyss asked.

“That is where the Circle Mages practice their magic. They need a lot of space, as some of their spells actually pull them into the Fade. I’d let you watch, but it’s rather dangerous.” He said cautiously.

“I can only imagine Emmy practicing her magic there once she passes her test. She is going to amaze them with her abilities.” Nyss said proudly.

“Emmy will go over her last test tomorrow morning, if she passes it, she will definitely be over there in the future.” He said reassuringly.

Nyss stopped in her tracts and looked at her feet as if stuck in the moment. She looked up at Cullen and her green eyes started to swell.

“I have a lot of confidence in my friend, but I am worried. Like you said days ago ‘How would you feel being free, then caged?’ I would loose my mind under pressure. So please humor me.”

“Please, speak freely.” He could tell what she was about to ask was large. He took a stop closer to her and put his hand on her arm. “Tell me.”

“I have a thought, is there no way I can see her before her trial? What if she doesn’t pass? I would never forgive myself if I didn’t get to see her one last time.” Nyss said with a choked voice.

Cullens eyes searched her face. “No I - “ he stopped short.

He could see the pain in his new friends eyes. Was she his friend? Is this what happens? You start to feel for people who you spend time with. He was confused by themes emotions, but he didn’t want to see this young lady upset. “Let me see if I can talk to Greagoir. He has his rules, but this seems like a reasonable request.”

“Then I will wait here.” Her heart jumped with anticipation, “Cullen, thank you for even asking.”

“For you my lady, it is a pleasure.” He took his hand from her arm and turned to walk away. “Promise you’ll wait here?”

“You have my word.”

Nyss moved to a bench and sat down in the middle of the garden. She waited while Cullen went to find Greagoir. The sun had been shining and the spring had brought birds of all varieties flying over head. She could smell the aroma of fresh flower buds and mulch as she waited for the Templar to return. It seemed like ages before he came back to her.

Cullen walked up to Nyss and grabbed her hand. “Quickly, come this way.”

Without a word, Nyss followed him. He led her through back corridors and dark places. His grip ever tighter as they navigated the halls and spaces.

Finally after one last turn, he let go of her hand. Cullen took a step forward, turned around and said to Nyss “Stay here.”

As fast as he left her he was back, and behind him, was Emmy.

She did not look well. Her red hair was not glossy as it usually was, and her expressive eyes were lackluster.

“What’s happened to you?” Nyss asked and she embraced her friend. “I have been worried about you.” She kissed her friend on the head and held her close.

“I can’t even begin to tell you what’s happened to me behind that door, and I’m not going to tell you, for it would upset you far too much, and my heart cannot do that to you.” Emmy didn’t let go of her friend. They just stood there. Nyss’s eyes started to tear. “Whatever happens to me, just know, not all Templars are bad.” Emmy glanced at Cullen, “the compassionate ones are truly sent from the Maker.”

“My friend, I don’t know what I can do to help you through your final test.”

“Nyssandra my dearest,” Emmy wiped away Nyss’s tear. “If I do not pass, know, this was not your fault. You have always been my best friend. Remember the good times we had, and don’t forget, save the ones you can and be the woman you were meant to be.”

“I will make you proud. You will make me proud and by tomorrow this will all be over. We will be reunited and though different, our lives will still be meshed together.”

“You are such a beautiful soul.” Emmy said, kissing Nyss’ cheeks. “I love you.”

“I love you.” She responded, smiling through tears of pain.

“Emmy, it’s time to go.” Cullen said quietly. His words pulled her away from Nyss’s grasp and, and just like that was gone through the hall’s door.

Nyss put her back up to the wall and cupped her head in her hands. The pain this caused her, the only moments she had left with her friend. It ached in her soul. She let out a cry that was louder than she expected. She felt a stabbing in her heart. She fell to her knees and sobbed. She was shaking, and could tell from that brief visit, nothing good happened behind that door.

Cullen reappeared.

“Is that all the time I could have? It was mere moments.”

“It was more than you were supposed to have My Lady. Be great full, most people get none.” He reprimanded her.

Nyss hated to be corrected by a mage hating Templar, but she couldn’t disagree. “Then thank you for what you did allow me to have.” She sniffed, “I now know her fate is sealed. I will never see her again.”

“How do you know? Tomorrow may be fine.” Cullen said.

“She didn’t blow me a kiss like she usually does when she leaves.”

Cullen saw the pain in her face, and it made his heart ache.

She was still on the ground. Her knees were dirty and her hands were covered in tears. Cullen reached down to help her up. As he pulled her to her feet, he noticed the collar of her shirt was wet. He didn’t know how to react, as most people don’t care about what happens to mages, but this one Nobel woman did. He put his arms around her, and whispered, “I’m sorry for what I can’t change. She seems like the best friend someone could have.”

Nyss leaned her head on his shoulder. It was an odd feeling for her, it was a man she had not known more than a few days ago, but she felt comfortable enough to ask for his sympathy in this simple way.

As for Cullen, a woman in his personal space was a first. He kept strictly away from any thoughts of a woman, as not to be tempted. After all, no Templar wants to be struck by lightening for thinking of a woman as anything other than that.

After Nyss finally composed herself, she said “I would like to go back to my room to await the final test.”

“As you wish my lady.”

Cullen lead Nyss back to her room, and gently shut the door behind her. She then laid in her bed, with tears in her eyes, and fell asleep to the thoughts of her friend, whose appearance was as if she had been beaten and starved for the last week. Her dreams were not any better.

#dragon age #alistair #cullen #dragon age inquisition #how dragon age would go if i rewrote it #lover #love #mage #dragon age love #dragon age fan fic #dragon age romance #magic #lelianna #loss #sadness #death #lovers #romance #fanfic

[rere-the-writer]

Title- We can be your new family

Warnings- Fluff, Elena and Co be terrible people, Overly protective Mikaelsons, A bit of angst

Summary- Being the youngest Gilbert isn't easy but You easily found people that wanted you around.

Pairing- Poly!Mikaelsons x Gilbert!Reader

You were what Damon call the weakest Gilbert, not much of a threat as you were Elena's twin sister and under her shadow. When the Mikaelsons came to town you became close friends with Rebekah somehow then got close to the older Mikaelsons and from there you became the object of their affections.

"Where are you going?" Elena asked getting the attention of Damon and Jeremy as both saw you dressed in warmer clothing. You gripped your book bag flushing as nerves settled in your belly.

"Hum....Elijah and Rebekah agreed....to help me with...my history paper...they are going to take me to some historical sites."

"I thought I told you stop hanging around them!?" Elena told you glaring as you stunk back getting more nervous.

"They are my friends." You said quietly but Elena heard you and looked to Damon for help. You opened the door feeling fear as you didn't know what Elena was going to let Damon do.

"Hello little one." You heard Elijah's comforting voice washed over you feeling his hand run over your head. Elena frowned seeing Elijah seemly showering you with affection which was something Elena hated was that the Mikaelsons were slowly stealing you away from her and Jeremy.

"Eli." You mumbled against his chest huddling closer to his warmth making Elijah smile softly as he had just adored you. You reminded Elijah of Tatia with how soft you were but a fiery spirit underneath it all.

"Elijah stop be selfish." Rebekah said as you slipped pass the older man to Rebekah letting her hug you.

"Hello Beka."

"You can't take her." Elena said glaring at Elijah as the sound of your laughter was heard as you and Rebekah were carefully walking on the icy path.

"She needed help so Rebekah and I offered. Y/N said you were too busy." Elijah says watching Elena closely as siblings affections for you grew. Both Elijah and Klaus noticed how you would be pushed away from the Scooby gang but yet pull you back when they would see you with one of the siblings.

"No need to worry we would never allow anything to happen Y/N." Elijah says turning following after you and Rebekah as you spent the day with your favorite Mikaelsons.

A week later you had been feeling fatigued and shortness of breath then times of having fainting spells. You went to Elena worried something was wrong with you.

"Not now Y/N. We are busy I sure you can deal with it by yourself."

You took yourself to see your doctor and called Rebekah who told her brothers rushing to see you.

"Y/N! What is it? Are you okay?" Rebekah asked as her and Kol fuzzing over you as you just leaned into their arms. Elijah kissed your head and Klaus rubbed your back.

"We know what is wrong." Your doctor says seeing the Mikaelsons shift closer to you.

"What is it?"

"You are anemic, don't worry it is treatable." The doctor said as Elijah pulled him aside asking questions and getting a list while the others showered you with affection.

"So no more drinking from Y/N?" Kol asked as Elijah stepped up kissing your forehead as clearly enjoying showering you with affection.

"No more feeding from our beloved." Elijah said as you flushed hiding your face in Rebekah's neck making them all chuckle. Since your diagnosis, the Mikaelsons slowly moved you into their home and Elena noticed making her every angry at the idea of you being with the Mikaelsons.

"How are you feeling, little one?" Elijah asked finding you curled up in Klaus's lap half asleep as Klaus was reading to you while running his fingers through your hair as Rebekah sat by holding your hand rubbing circles with her thumb.

"Tired....might stay in today." You mumbled as Elijah and Klaus soften kissing your head. You didn't know what happened or when it happened but you naturally got into a relationship with them. It started with Rebekah and the others just followed naturally and you had never felt loved and devotion that the Mikaelsons had showered you with.

"I'm sure Niklaus won't mind a relaxing day in." Elijah says softly cupping your cheek rubbing it with his thumb smiling seeing you lean into his hand. There was a loud knock and Elijah frowned when it startled you awake before relaxing back in Klaus's arms with Rebekah nuzzling you.

"I wonder who that could be?" Elijah questioned standing up closing his book and Kol took his spot near you. Elijah answered the door seeing Elena with Stefan and Damon.

"Where is she?!" Elena growled pushing pass Elijah making him take a deep breath as he was a bit annoyed that since becoming a vampire Elena was more brazen than before.

"What did you do to her?!" Elijah heard Elena shout as he headed for the den with the Salvatore brothers following. You were have asleep on Kol and Klaus was standing growling.

"Her new medication makes her tired. Elijah we should talk to her doctor about it."

"We should Kol." Elijah said seeing you yawn sitting up before cuddling up to Rebekah who was more than happy to have you in her arms.

"Doctor?! What. Did. You. Do?"

"Watch your tone young one." Elijah said lowly looking at Elena as Damon moved to protect Elena in case the Originals were not going to put up with her attitude.

"Your sister was sick and we have been taking care of her since you seem hellbent on ours deaths to care for her."

"Y/N?"

"I am anemic....they have been taking care of me." You tell your sister slowly falling back to sleep under Rebekah's skillful fingers that was massaging circles in your back.

"So you stole my sister?!"

"We did no such thing. We naturally gravitate towards your sister." Elijah said watching the Salvatore brothers closely not trusting them while you had fallen asleep.

"Right. More like you are using her."

"We won't never use her unlike you would have." Kol said standing as Elijah put his arm out to stopped Kol from attacking Elena.

"Yeah right you all have done nothing but try and kill us!"

"Stefan it would be best if you take Elena and leave." Elijah said noticing how both Klaus and Kol were getting angerer as now you were getting restless and if you were uncomfortable Kol and Klaus had been known to removed what made you uncomfortable. Stefan took Damon and Elena knowing that Elijah was giving them a chance to live.

"We can't let her be around them."

You had gotten better but that didn't stop the Mikaelsons from fuzzing over you and them every protective of you. You woke up to Kol peppering your neck with kisses and Elijah pulling out clothes for you to wear.

"Goodmorning, darling."

"Morning." You mumbled nuzzling Kol's chest as Elijah chuckled leaning over gently unlatch you from Kol.

"I started a bath for you. Baby, we need to know something."

"Humm? What is it?"

"Would you like to come to New Orleans with us?" Elijah asked sitting you in the bath washing your hair.

"I'll love too." You tell Elijah making him smile as he kissed you then finished washing you up. You took Rebekah with you to get some clothes from your house as they didn't trust your siblings.

"So you are leaving us?"

"I want to be with them like you wanting to be with Damon and Stefan." You tell Elena packing as Rebekah was down stairs glaring at the Salvatore brothers.

"You can't leave!"

"Elena, you're hurting me." You whimpered when she grabbed your wrist as Rebekah was pulling her off you growling as a bruise began to form on your wrist.

"You can't take her to New Orleans."

"So you hurt her?" Rebekah growled fangs flashing as Elena stepped up growling herself but felt a hand on your shoulder and saw Elijah standing there.

"Don't Elena."

New Orleans was beautiful and you found yourself enjoying the lights and sounds with Kol as the vampire watched you ran down the street. Kol had gotten Elijah and Klaus to agree to let him take you out as Rebekah was buying you new clothes.

"Kol!" You shouted and Kol was there in a flash growling seeing a witch trying to grab you.

"I am Sofie and Y/N here got my sister killed."

To say the siblings were surprised that you were pregnant was an understatement and of course they got more protective. You sat cuddling Rebekah and Kol as he read to you both while Klaus and Elijah was dealing with Marcel.

"You both are home." Kol whispered making Elijah raise an eyebrow walking over seeing you and Rebekah asleep on him. Klaus walked over gently taking the book away.

"Yes well Marcellus is proving to be a hand full." Elijah says softly placing a blanket over you and Rebekah. Klaus sat in a chair smiling listening to the baby's heartbeat.

"How is she?"

"Good. So far no problems. Oh Elena and the Salvatores are coming down." Kol says running his fingers through your hair as Elijah frowned sitting in another chair.

"How annoying. But we shall keep her safe."

"And love her Always and Forever."

"Always and Forever." They heard you mumbled back in your sleep making the men smile softly as they relaxed enjoying the peace while they still can.

#rere's stories #mikaelson family x reader #mikaelson family fluff #elijah mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson imagine #rebekah mikaelson imagine