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yandere-sins · 8 months

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Imagine getting isekai’ed into otome game as a background character, watching the main character going down routes as you live your peaceful, mundane life, but you’ve unknowingly been going down a route as well, a route for a hidden character that you didn’t discover during your time playing the game.

That character being the reason the game has a dark content warning.

Gosh anon, that idea is so good!!!! I didn't know it would tickle all the right places in my brain, but when I started I couldn't stop lol. Love it, thank you for sending it in ♥

If this had one of these super long titles that are tmi it would be:

I got Isekai'ed into an Otome Game as a Background Character and now I Have to Finish It with the Secret Yandere Love Interest!!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

A serene smile spread over your lips as you watched the two lovebirds in the corner of your coffee shop.

Swirling the milk into a cup, it created a little white heart surrounded by foamy coffee, its aroma drifting into your nose. Had someone told you that the little things like a cup of coffee made with love and care were enough to give you the peace of mind you always wanted in your previous life, you would have laughed at them. For you, it had always been the hustle, the making money, finding a partner, and creating a family. Make everyone proud while being successful, whether it costs you nights of sleep or days without proper meals. But looking at yourself now, it all seemed so far away now, and you let out a content sigh before setting down the cup in front of the customer at the bar.

"You seem happy today," your regular at the counter noted, picking up the cup and taking a moment to appreciate the aroma just like you had. A smile sneaked onto their lips, too, after they took a sip, and you couldn't help but feel your heart swell with pride and happiness when they gave you a satisfied nod.

"I am! I'm really getting accustomed to my new life here, it's... been a while since I've been so content."

The truth behind everything that happened to you was something you couldn't speak about lightly. Not when it turned the life you knew upside down, leaving you to start over completely. One day you were an employee of a well-known company, responsible for sales and reports and everything stressful. And the next, you were in your favorite, cozy video game, running the coffee shop the main character liked to visit with all the romance options in the game.

Isekai was the genre that came to mind when you thought about your situation. Luckily you were spared the memories of your death in the real world, the circumstances blurry as you barely remembered going home late from work, only to wake up in this very different universe. Perhaps you were just comatose, and this was a dream. Still, by now, you had managed to slip into your role as the barista of the small coffee shop, a barely mentioned background character, just fine.

Your eyes jumped back to the couple in the corner, giggling and teasing each other over a group project, and you felt an immense relief you weren't reincarnated as the main protagonist and had to go through the years of studying and trying to establish connections with the love interests again. You already did that in your old life, and it wasn't as romantic and fun as the game made it out to be. You only played it because it got your mind off things, the art was pretty, and it had the exact amount of cozy time management you needed to relax. But living as the main character in it? No, thank you!

"Jealous?" your regular teased, and you chuckled, shaking your head. They tapped their—now empty—cup, and you took it from them, replacing it with some water until you had the next cup of coffee ready for them.

"I just think it's cute. I never had someone so interested in me they'd take me out for coffee and share their cake with me when I was younger."

Your words tasted a little bitter on your tongue. Still, you genuinely couldn't wish for anything but the main character's happiness. It was just the feeling of being loved, desired, and wanted that you missed, even though your new life was more than satisfactory despite you feeling a little lonely sometimes.

"Well, it's never too late to start," they chuckled, taking up their fork and cutting off the tip of their strawberry shortcake, including the big chunk of strawberry on top, picking it up and holding it out towards you.

"Oh, I wouldn't dare--"

"I insist! As thanks for the amazing coffee every time I come here."

Nudging your lips with their fork, you let out an awkward chuckle. It was okay, right? They wouldn't sue you for eating the cake they paid for, would they? This was just a silly little game. What could go wrong with you accepting their kindness?

Opening your lips, you let them feed you the cake, taking a moment to let the sweet and fruity notes mix with the fluffy whip cream before you were sent straight to heaven. Not to toot your own horn, but your baking skills had improved so much since you started working at the shop. Who knew you had that in you?

Occupied with the moment of bliss as you let the cake flavor mix in your mouth, you hummed happily before devoting yourself back to making the coffee with a smile on your face. Unaware of your regular fixating on the fork you had just eaten from, staring at it like it was some strange artifact. Your phone dinged softly in its drawer, and you checked it briefly to see the notification pinging up, saying, "Achievement unlocked: Cake-Master - Provide the most delicious cake to your customers."

"Excuse me!" the main character called out to you, stepping up to the counter, and you directed your attention to her, ignoring the little game notification you've been receiving since starting your new life here, the love interest not far away before the two began fighting over who was going to pay the bill this time lovingly. Of course, the love interest won, but you wouldn't have expected it any other way. Seeing the blush on the main character's face after her romance option told her he'd "always take care" of her made you grin like a little fan, and you cheered them on in your head.

By the time you returned to your regular, their knuckles had gone white with how hard they were gripping the fork in their hand, their eyes following the couple who was about to leave. For a moment, it made you wonder if they had a crush on either of them, their sweet interaction surely uncomfortable if that was the case. But you didn't remember there being a jealousy scene in the game. You'd know, almost playing it 100% before your death. There apparently was a secret route you never got but were trying your hardest to achieve. Now you were left to wonder what it entailed.

But the second you returned, they looked up at you, expression softening and the tension disappearing, and you chalked it up to having witnessed a cringe moment that they had gotten so awkward. "Thank you for the cake, that was really nice of you! Do you want another fork?" you asked and were met with a headshake and a smile.

They quickly began eating their cake and complimenting your baking skills, stroking your growing ego when they rubbed their belly.

"I never had a cake that good!" they proclaimed, and you laughed out loud, overjoyed that you had made them so happy.

"Say..." they suddenly spoke up again, leaning on the counter and watching you with gentle eyes. Your heart set out for a second, tension rising as you didn't know what they were going to ask. Ever since you opened the coffee shop, the main character, love interests, and this regular had come by constantly. If you were honest, you enjoyed their visits more and more. Their presence felt like it belonged here with you, and you were a part of something bigger after all, washing away the small, lonely part of you.

And maybe... just maybe... this was how your happy end would play out.

"Are you this nice to every customer?"

Halting your movements, you set aside the brew head that you used on the espresso machine, despite having to clean it, thinking about your answer for a moment. It was a strange question to ask someone who worked in customer service. Still, you appreciated your regular, so you didn't want to give them a snarky answer.

"Uhm, well, I am just trying to make everyone feel welcome! But of course, it's a bit different with my regulars! After all, they come here often, like a second family. So I guess I'm a bit nicer because you really get to know and appreciate these people that stay to chat and tell stories."

"I see," they muttered. "Family, huh..."

After that, you suddenly were swamped with sudden orders, excusing yourself to fulfill them, chatting and laughing with even the people that were just passing by. Maybe you really were just nice? Perhaps this new environment had made you more relaxed and gentle than the harsh world you lived in, and it was showing? But their question was shoved into the back of your mind as you kept fulfilling orders and earning your keep.

Once the rush was over, you returned to your regular, only to find their seat empty. Strange, you thought. You could have sworn that you felt their eyes on you the whole time you were away, but luckily, they didn't walk out on their tab, leaving the money and a folded-up napkin beneath their empty cup for you to find. You quickly stored away the bills, trusting your regular with knowing what they had to pay after so many weeks of the same order.

You were about to throw away their napkin when you noticed some red marks on them, unwrapping the paper to find a note scribbled in what you had to assume was ink.

"You're so beautiful when you laugh."

The surprise wore off quite fast, and you smiled, thinking nothing of it but that it was a nice compliment from your regular. Still, you ended up throwing the napkin away—not knowing if it was dirty, after all—taking the coffee cup and plate to the sink to clean them, overseeing the red tip on the fork that was too dark to be from the strawberry.

The rest of your day was uneventful, and by the time you were closing, you were tired and ready to tug in for the night, wrapping up your business at the shop quickly before walking home. You didn't have a chance to look at your phone since you glanced at the achievement notification, so you took it out, startled when you saw a dozen new messages.

Achievement unlocked: Happy new life - Be content with your new life

Achievement unlocked: A fork for two! - Share a fork with someone special

Achievement unlocked: Jealousy - Make someone special jealous

Achievement unlocked: Soothing - Calm someone special down with your presence

Achievement unlocked: Family - Have someone be moved by your words

Achievement unlocked: The nicest person in town - Be beloved by all, but especially by someone special

Achievement unlocked: Blood in the cup - Have someone hurt themselves at your coffee shop

Achievement unlocked: Wonder-Barista - Complete twenty orders in less than thirty minutes

Achievement unlocked: Strange compliment - Receive a compliment through unusual means

Achievement unlocked: Blooming infatuation - Have someone special fall in love with you

Achievement unlocked: Shop-Pro! - Close the shop twenty times after making a profit from your work

Achievement unlocked: Tired - Hard workers deserve to relax

You blinked a few times, surprised by what you were reading and a little weirded out by some of these achievements. They gave you some extra coins in your shop till and reputation with the townspeople, so you usually didn't mind them. But to say some of their descriptions were weird was an understatement. You couldn't even remember someone getting hurt at your workplace that day.

By the time you reached your apartment, you decided to ignore the strange notifications and just let the day come to an end with a hot bath and your favorite show. But you were startled when your phone suddenly began ringing loudly, even though you had turned off the sound back at the coffee shop after the first notification. The first messages that appeared before you were more achievements, and you stopped turning the key in your door as you read them.

Achievement unlocked: Follower - Have someone special follow you home

Achievement unlocked: Welcome home! - Arrive at home, not alone

Achievement unlocked: Wherever you go, I'll be watching you - Ɨ ΔΜ ΔŁŴΔ¥Ş ŴΔŦĆĦƗŇǤ ¥ØỮ

Lifting your head, you looked around you, glancing over your shoulder and into the courtyard below. No one was out; everyone was at home eating dinner and occupied with their lives. Confused, you swiped all the notifications away before another pop-up appeared.

ALERT! You're about to enter X's route. Do you want to continue?

> Yes > No

Panicked at this point, you pressed "No," but nothing happened. You kept tapping it repeatedly, not understanding what was happening with your phone. But nothing changed, the notification staying in place. The sound of something breaking inside your apartment tore your focus away from your phone, startling you.

You must have finally managed to close it, the pop-up disappearing just as you unlocked the door to your apartment, still having held on to the key when you were surprised by the sound. Darkness and silence greeted you from inside, everything seemingly normal.

Majorly confused, you shook your head, slowly entering the hallway leading inside. "Hello?" you called out, reaching for the light switch. The light flickered on, and... there was no one. Holding your breath, no sound reached your ears, and you groaned, realizing you got freaked out about... nothing.

This wasn't some kind of horror game, and the story never had a murder-solving subplot. True, the ratings for it were kind of strange—it being rated as 18+ on the website—but seriously, what should happen in a cozy little city like the one the game played in? You didn't even think they had a police station here.

Pushing off your shoes as you shrugged off the weird feeling from before, you walked up the hallway to your living room, turning on the light before coming to an abrupt halt. There were broken pieces of glass underneath your living room window, but what really freaked you out came into view only when you lifted your head. You could look into the mirror of your cabinet door from your position, red marker dripping from it as if someone had hastily scribbled on it just seconds ago. You weren't sure it was a pen anymore, judging by its deep red color and the fluidity of it.

"𝘪 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺"

Your phone pinged.

Achievement unlocked:

On the Highway to Hell - Unlock the secret route

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darknight3904 · 4 months

Text

You're a Liar

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴋᴇʟᴇᴛᴏɴꜱ ɪɴ ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ' ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇᴛ.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ / ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ꜱɴᴏᴡ (ʜᴇ ɪꜱ ʙᴀᴅ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ)

ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ꜱᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ. ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍʏ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ ꜰɪɴᴀʟꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɴ ɪ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴡᴀᴛᴄʜ ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ɢᴏᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏᴛᴅ ꜱᴏ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴅᴀᴇᴍᴏɴ/ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ ʙʀᴀɪɴ ʀᴏᴛ.

Mornings might just be your favorite time of day. The way the sun just barely peaked through the curtains and shimmered its way across the bedspread made your shared room with Coriolanus look simply divine.

Mornings might just be your favorite time of day. The delicious scent of bacon and freshly cooked pancakes wafted through the mansion and under your closed door. The promise of fresh orange juice and perfectly hot coffee was enough to rouse anyone from their slumber.

Mornings might just be your favorite time of day. Coriolanus is still asleep beside you. Curly hair is splayed on the pillow, free from whatever styling gel he put in it. His face is relaxed and peaceful as you run your fingertips across his forehead and down the bridge of his nose. The stress of being president is gone from his face when he sleeps and that's how you know, mornings are your favorite time of day.

"I can feel you staring at me."

His voice was still muddled with sleep, deep and scratchy as he batted at your hands trying to keep them off his gorgeous face.

"I'm appreciating the art in front of me," You smile as he finally opens his eyes.

"Your hands on my face are making my nose itch." He says grabbing your right hand and gently squeezing it as he sits up beside you.

You hum a tune of acknowledgment and take in his appearance. Coriolanus' pale skin was a wonderful sight to behold as the blanket slipped and fell into his lap.

"You're staring again." He says playing with your fingers

"An incredibly attractive man seems to be missing his shirt, can you blame me for staring?" You state a playful smile pulling on your lips.

Coriolanus lets out a snort and gets out of bed with a grunt. Long red scratches adorn his back as you watch your fiancee walk across the room towards the bathroom, ready to scrub last night's activities off himself.

Yes, mornings were your favorite time of day. You had warm sunshine, delicious food, and Coriolanus by your side.

But, most of all, mornings were your favorite because you weren't alone.

Coriolanus never truly wanted to leave the bedroom he shared with you. Even now as you groaned and begged him to just lounge around the mansion with you, he wished he could go back to when he felt your soft fingertips brushing the bridge of his nose. He had woken up beside you, cleaned himself, and eaten a wonderful breakfast, now the next step was simple. The next step was attending to his duties as the President of Panem and leaving you to your day in the south wing of the mansion. Despite the tempting idea of staying with you, he knew you'd be eagerly awaiting him, tonight at the dinner table, ready to listen about his day. It was the perfect daily routine and Coriolanus never wanted it to change.

He could feel the press of your lips on his lingering hours later as the newest Head Gamemaker listed detailed plans for the games that were two months away. Dr. Gaul's death had been a blow to the way the Hunger Games functioned as a whole. Now, Coriolanus wasn't sure if the new man chosen for the job was truly the correct choice, he didn't have any of the ruthlessness Gaul had. Sure, he could've stepped in but how would he run the country and dream up deadly traps and mutts for tributes. Sure, he probably could've but that meant so many hours of overtime and leaving you to sleep alone in those overly soft sheets you had hand-picked for your shared bed. This new game maker would just have to do, he didn't want to imagine your sad little face if he didn't sit down for dinner with you each night.

The hours after Coriolanus left you at the breakfast table were terribly boring. There wasn't anything for you to do anymore.Sure, you could've gone shopping or gone to a local park but you hated doing all those things alone. Coriolanus had convinced you that running your Father's weapons company would be overwhelming for you and managed it in your name. As far as you knew it was doing well and was providing many jobs for people in the districts. Everything else in the mansion was tended to by an army of maids and butlers, who were ready at the snap of a finger. So, here you sat in your sunroom that Coriolanus had built as a special place just for you.

You had taken up painting nearly a year ago but your long days of solitude had caused you to quickly run out of inspiration. Now, the paints and easel sat, awaiting your touch but your creativity was gone. You missed Coriolanus and he wouldn't return for another hour. Surely dinner was nearly ready and you wished you were sitting with him, listening to whatever he had spent his day doing. Perhaps you should start a new book before he returns. That'd give you something to tell him about when he did come back.

Maybe the extensive in-home library here would have a book about a lonely woman, wishing for her lover. Maybe there'd be a book all about her and how she spent her days without him and how to pass the time. Maybe, there'd be a book all about her mornings with him and how she never wished for them to come to an end.

It was during these long days that you felt like the loneliest woman in all of Panem. Moments like this made it feel like you were a delicate china doll, only removed from her case to be admired for a few spare moments before being placed back on her shelf.

Two Years Later

Watching. It was something you had gotten good at over the past few months, especially since Coriolanus stopped allowing you to leave the grounds of the mansion. You watched as the boy you grew up with and danced at countless galas faded from view. You tried to welcome the man who sat across from you eating his dinner but it was had more and more difficult as the weeks bled into months and months turned to years. Coriolanus even seldom kissed you now. It hurt even though you knew it was for your own safety. He had admitted it one night in the darkness of your room as he lay beside you. Poison had created sensitive sores in his mouth. You wished he'd stop using it, surely there had to be other ways to do away with enemies.

You felt as though you were withering away, your days were so tedious and you often found yourself eagerly waiting at the dinner table for Coriolanus. Your long days were spent in isolation and you rarely spoke to the staff of the mansion. That didn't stop you from racing to the dining room when the sounds of Coriolanus' return sounded through the halls. Some days it felt like you were a child waiting to tell their parent about their day.

Tonight, it was like your words were falling on deaf ears as Coriolanus was paging through a book while nibbling at the food that had been placed in front of the two of you. Your engagement ring was a dazzling silver as you played with your fingers, wishing he'd look up from whatever knowledge that book might've held.

"Coryo..." You began

"Yes?"

His tone wasn't what you had hoped for. He was annoyed that you were interrupting whatever was on the page in front of him so you didn't elaborate on what you had wanted to say.

Watching. It was something you had gotten good at since there wasn't anything else for you to do.

It was raining the day you found them. You had spent most of the day lounging around and working with the wedding planner Coriolanus had hired so you wouldn't have to do all of the work yourself.

It was nestled in an old shoe box, covered in dust, perfectly hidden behind Coriolanus' clothes on his side of the closet. At first, you had thought it might have been more of Sejanus' things that Coriolanus never gave back to Strabo. Instead what you were met with was worse than a dead boy's things. There, wrapped up in a silky orange scarf sat a single golden earring and an envelope. You swore you could smell lingering perfume on the scarf as you opened the envelope.

It felt like your hands were burning when you finally looked at them. Surely they weren't real. Right?

Two pictures sat in your hands. One of Lucy Gray Baird on some unknown stage, a black guitar in hand. Her pretty dark curls were pulled back and behind her a small group of blurry faces were muddled together, unrecognizable due to the poor lighting. You felt a lump of anxiety and anger swell in your throat when you moved on to the next picture. It was taken as if the subjects of the photo had no knowledge of the camera. Lucy Gray sits on a dilapidated-looking couch with your Coriolanus beside her. Her face was partially obscured as she pressed her lips to his cheek and Coriolanus was smiling, his one arm wrapped securely around her waist.

How long had it been since he smiled like that at you? Perhaps it was even before the reaping that had brought her to the Capitol. When was the last time you saw a truly genuine smile from the boy you grew up with? You wondered how you had missed the way his boyish smiles had transformed into those cruel smirks he donned when things went his way.

Jealousy and sadness burned in your stomach as your mind raced. How long had it been since these photos were taken? It had been nearly 7 years since her games. Coriolanus' head was clearly buzzed in the photo with Lucy which meant it was after he was forced by Highbottom to leave the Capitol. How many times after his return to you had he assured you that nothing had happened between them? How many times had you believed him and his sweet words and actions? How many times had he lied and betrayed you all for another girl who mysteriously disappeared?

Betrayal is what you felt as you pocketed the pictures and slid the box back into its spot behind his fancy coats. Tears were pricking at your eyes as you dressed for dinner, Coriolanus would be back soon and you would confront him about the pictures once he was seated across from you at that dinner table you had sat at hundreds of times.

Dinner is silent as you pick at the cut of steak that was placed on your plate. Coriolanus is talking about how he's on the hunt for another head game maker and how annoying it is but you just can't help but not care. The table that separates you from him makes it feel like a huge ravine has grown between the two of you as you tune him out.

15 years is how long you've known Coriolanus Snow. In those 15 years, you had never dreamed of doing what you were about to do as you removed the pictures from where they sat hidden under your pretty skirt, a floral pattern Coriolanus had picked for your 27th birthday a few months ago. Your heart ached as you slid them across the table to him.

"I found these today. In our closet. Wrapped in your mother's scarf with a gold earring."

You finally have all of Coriolanus' attention as he swallows his food and stops his complaining.

"I thought you said it wasn't romantic. You promised me it wasn't."

Coriolanus glances down at the pictures and reaches out to brush his finger across the one with him and Lucy Gray on that couch.

"You promised, Coryo."

Your voice was breaking. Damn it, don't cry!

"I know I did."

He finally speaks. You wondered what was going through that ridiculously complex mind as he fumbled for his words.

"Then why did you lie? I would've listened if you had just told the truth to begin with." You honestly say.

It's true, you would've heard him out. Maybe you wouldn't have taken him back but you would have at least listened.

"I wasn't thinking straight, okay," He says " I should've told you. I should've gotten rid of that stuff years ago. I don't know why I didn't."

"Yes, you do." You sigh "You love her Coryo. Even now, you're looking for Lucy Gray. That's why you keep me here, you're scared I'll run off like her."

"No, no that's not it. I just...want you to myself." He reasoned

"If that were true you'd let me leave."

"Why do you need to? Everything anyone could ever wish for is right here in this home." He points out, you don't miss the way his fist is clenching, his nails digging into his skin.

"I haven't left the mansion in two years!" You cry, blinking back tears "I feel like some prize you've won and caged up! You don't even let me attend galas anymore."

"You hated those galas. All the nosey reporters and their questions were something you hated. Do you want me to apologize for doing you a favor? I won't. I've done nothing but make your life easier." Coriolanus says

"Yes, you have made my life easier, you've eliminated all challenges I might come across by keeping me here, like a doll." You agree, tone dripping with sarcasm

"Look, if you want you can go to the next gala with me. It's in a week I'll get a designer here tomorrow morning to make you a nice dress." Coriolanus sighed, clearly tired "I don't want to argue with you about petty things"

"Good, then we can argue about these photos." You say, ready to finally hear what he had to say.

"I don't love her. Maybe I did at some point but none of that matters now, I came back to you didn't I?"

Maybe I did at some point.

Hot tears fell from your eyes as you looked down at your feet. How could you be so stupid? Why didn't you see it sooner?

The sound of Coriolanus getting up and walking towards you had you wiping at your face and unattractively sniffing as you tried to fix your runny nose. You didn't want him taking your tears as a sign of weakness. He couched down beside you and pulled your chair out so you were facing him.

"Stop crying." He commands placing his hands on your thighs.

Another fresh set of tears falls from your eyes and Coriolanus brushes them away.

"You're a liar." You say, your voice barely a whisper

"I'm not...I want to be here, with you. I'll let you go back out on your little shopping trips and attend galas, shitty reporters and all."

It's tempting, to agree and let everything perfectly mend itself. But as you glance at the pictures that fell off the table and Lucy Gray's face stares back at you, you feel your heart sink to your feet again.

"You're a liar." You say, this time your voice comes out strong as you push his warm hands from your face

Coriolanus gives you a hard stare but lets you pull away from him.

"You can't even apologize for seeing her." You point out

Coriolanus looks guilty as he disgests your words.

"What happened between the two of you?" You asked

"She ran off, I think. I also had some personal issues after Sejanus was killed. She offered for me to go with her, I almost did." He says

You let out a soft hum of acknowledgment as Coriolanus remains in front of you, on his knees, fiddling with the end of your skirt.

"I don't think I ever really loved her. I think it might've just been the idea of possessing her that I liked." He admits, eyes on the floor

"And how is that different than us now?" You ask

Coriolanus' eyes snap up to yours when the question leaves your lips.

"It's different because...we're us...We grew up together, darling. You ate Tigris' cabbage soup and gave me lunch when I didn't have money for my own."

You swallow the lump in your throat and stand up. Coriolanus immediately rises, not interested in being so much shorter than you. You know what has to come next but you're not sure if you're strong enough to do it. Your actions will close the chapter of a book 15 years in the making.

"Coryo...I think I want to go home." You say looking up at him, fresh tears pool in your eyes.

"You are home. You're with me." He says reaching out and taking your hand in his

"No, I mean...to my family's home. I want my mom, I miss her." You admit, pulling your hand out of his.

Coriolanus' face is confused as you look down at the gorgeous ring he gave you at his proposal. It looked so perfect on your hand when you woke up just this morning but now it felt like a death sentence as you sighed.

"I think you should have this back too..." You say as you slip it off and hold it out to him, "I'm sorry about things ending like this, but if you can't even apologize, I don't think I can stay."

Coriolanus' confusion quickly morphs into anger as he looks at the ring in your hand.

"Put it back on. I'm not letting you walk away." He says, upset

"Coryo, don't make this difficult." You say taking the ring and placing it into the pocket that sits just above his heart in his button-up shirt.

You begin to walk towards the looming archway that marks the entrance to the dining room but you're blocked by an angry Coriolanus Snow, tears in his eyes, fists clenched, and his mouth set in a cold line.

"You're not leaving. I won't let you."

Part Four

Series Masterlist

Taglist:

@10ava01

@i-dont-know-make-it-cool @bxtchopolis @anneliese500 @kitscutie @kiselasmetana @wpdarlingpan @miglielia @anneliese500

@taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese

@ajs-222

@ayyyeeeeidk

@noisymoisu @clintsupremacy @impeterporker @bl0ndelilac @threeinchminimum @starjane312 @ladyslytherin7 @inmyownlittlechair @eclipixels

@ffioncandy @marihoneywk @earth-to-lottie @julesandro @arzua10 @wotcherpeak

@imaybewrongbutidoubtit @luxebeautystyle @v1ennie @shev3nom @poemfreak306 @slyhersophia @xreaderbooksreads @popcornpoppin @peach97 @louweasleymalfoy @lizziebitch33

@hjgdhghoe @death934 @whore-for-pennywise @poppyflower-22 @callsignwidow @hey101010 @winuvs @iliveonteaandbooks

@powernutterbar @supersmexyandhot @dahlias-and-marigolds @literatureluster @spidermoony @lorarri @dilucpegg3r @forevermoremagcon @sarahskywalker-amidala @ms-longbeach@fictionalwhore123 @snowsgames

#the hunger games #fanfic #coriolanus snow smut #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #katniss everdeen #mockingjay #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #lucy gray baird #tom blyth #rachel zegler #coriolanus snow fluff #sejanus plinth #thg #tbosas #coriolanus snow x fem!reader

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sytoran · 9 months

Text

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐔𝐓𝐘

the mother of the kids you babysit is sinfully hot, and she happens to be going through a messy divorce, so, of course, you're gonna do what you can to help out.

🌸 pairing: milf!pregnant!wanda x top!babysitter!gn!reader

🌸 cont: almost smut (18+), major age gap, teasing, flirting, what kind of oneshot would this be if i didn't add love to the lust, pregnancy kink kinda, or just a thing for hot moms in general

🌸 word count: 1.9k

🌸 note: i know i'm supposed to be on break... scold me after

To say you had an unhealthy obsession with the mother of the kids you babysat would be an understatement.

Understated by such a far amount that it dug beyond the trenches of the center of the universe.

Because you were utterly, filthily, encompassingly, sinfully, and completely enthralled by the mere thought of Wanda Maximoff.

She was leaning over the kitchen counter, low-cut shirt emboldening the tantalising cleavage she had, speaking to her kids in that sexy motherly tone that drove you wild.

“Mommy’s gonna be cheering you boys on for your football game tomorrow, alright?”

Wanda was every one of your wet dreams embodied as a breathtaking woman, so utterly gorgeous beyond dictionaried words that you nearly fell to your knees in the presence of her beauty the first time you saw her.

Especially now, that she was pregnant with her third child.

It took every cell of your willpower to not start drooling when you laid your eyes on her these days: with her glowing features that had aged like fine wine, or her rounded and full breasts, so tight against the seams of her shirt, or her big belly you just longed to caress.

Sometimes you’d think Wanda felt the same for you.

All the times she would ‘accidentally’ brush her ass against your crotch area when squeezing through a narrow gap, pressing into you for a moment too long to be considered accidental.

Or the times she would complain to you about her messy divorce with Vision, lamenting about her lawyers and social workers and saying that you were the only one that could calm her down.

But the two of you were worlds apart, because she paid you to be the babysitter for her kids. That was what was holding you back, from bending her over the kitchen counter every time she brushed passed you with that ass.

“Y/N?”

Wanda’s sweet voice snaps you out of your trance, and you look up guiltily at having been caught staring. When you come to your senses, you’ve realized that the boys have already left for school that day.

The mother tilts her head to the side with a little grin, and your heart does a flip. “What’re you thinking about that’s got you so distracted, hm?” she asks, propping her head up with a hand while resting her elbow on the counter.

You clear your throat awkwardly, pushing in some chairs to busy your hands. “Uni stuff,” you reply, the lie slipping through your lips surprisingly easily. “It’s quite stressful, with exam season ‘round the corner.”

It wasn’t a secret that you were nearly twenty years younger than Wanda, but it made your little forbidden crush all the more thrilling. The way you would take time out of your weekends to spend time with Wanda and the kids, disregarding party invites and forgoing study time. It was probably not a good move, but your horniness seemed to have a mind of its own.

“Mhm, uni was a lifetime ago for me,” Wanda reminisces, lifting her arms up to stretch. Your eyes are shamefully glued to the curve of her belly as her shirt rides up. “You’re so mature for your age, though, Y/N. Wish you were around during my time.”

“What?” you nearly choke on your words, unsure if you had interpreted her correctly. It was too good to be true – Wanda had never been this forward.

“Come on, sweetheart, don’t sell yourself short,” the mother says easily, smiling brightly as if she wasn’t the cause of your burning arousal. “Captain of the football team, eh? You can also cook, clean, fix cars, do gardening, and fix sinks. And you’re good with kids! I bet you have all the girls in uni chasing after you.”

Wanda’s surge of compliments does wonders for your ego, but the only thing you genuinely care about was your availability for her. You’ve had girls in your level lust after you, sure, but Wanda was a secret solace that was different from them all.

“Maybe,” you say cryptically, failing to hide a smirk at the look that washes over Wanda’s face.

“Do you? Someone from school?” Wanda asks, the teasing lilt in her voice dissipating almost immediately, instead being replaced with something akin to jealousy.

Fuck, you wanted her so bad.

“Hmm, sure,” you tease, liking this cat-and-mouse game you were playing. “She looks a bit like you.”

Wanda can’t seem to keep the annoyance off her face, and it’s adorably funny. And kind of hot, too. “That’s nice. Are you dating her?”

You laugh, walking up to Wanda to help her with the dishes she was currently unpacking from the dryer. “Nah. Sometimes I think she wants me, but I also think she’s way outta my league.”

‘Way outta my league’ my ass, more like ‘way outta my appropriate age group.’

As Wanda watches you pick up a glass bowl, she feels a surge of emotion well up from inside that causes her to tear up.

Of course, she would never have you, it was just silly to want her babysitter. You had so many younger, fitter, eligible partners, all waiting to have you. Young pretty girls who had problems with the colour of their lipstick, not problems with pregnancy and divorce lawyers and shitty husbands.

When you look back to see Wanda’s state of tears, worry taints your features instantaneously. “My emotions are all over the place because of the pregnancy,” Wanda says between shaky breaths. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

In wordless acknowledgement, you put down the dishes and sweep Wanda off her feet. You lift her from under her back and thighs, firm hands steadying her as you walk up the stairs. Wanda looks up at you, feeling so utterly vulnerable all of a sudden, but you send her a warm smile that simultaneously calms her down and awakes butterflies in her stomach.

She takes the time to brush her hands over your arms, then your neck. You were so strong, so calming, everything she had ever needed. Now, the feeling of your hands so close to where she’d imagined you so many times was a good distraction.

When you reach the bedroom, you move the pillows and set her down gently, all with her arms wrapped around your neck. With a striking realisation, Wanda knows that she’s never felt this safe with anyone ever, so warm and so inviting, and she never wanted to let you go.

You leave for a while to get some things, and reappear in Wanda’s bedroom with a glass of warm water and some painkillers. There are chocolates in the mix, the peanut butter kind that soothes Wanda down immensely.

“You’re too good for me,” Wanda says breathily, the sheen of sweat that had covered her forehead now being tenderly wiped away by you. You shrug plainly. You just wanted to provide for her, take care of her and her kids and all her sexual needs. treat Wanda like the queen she was, nothing at all like the bags of garbage that was her husband.

Before you know it, you lean down to press a kiss against Wanda’s warm forehead in an act of affection. The moment is sweet, and soft, so much like what you’d imagined.

Wanda freezes up for a moment, and you do the same. “Sorry,” you choke out, moving back quickly, but the older woman was quick to grip your forearm and prevent you from escaping.

“Stay.”

Your breath stills in your throat, eyes wide. You’re hovering over Wanda from the side of the bed, while the woman lays down just inches away from you. Her hair is splayed across the pillows, her pupils are blown, and her lips are so close to yours. So, so close.

Time slows down as you tilt your head to meet her lips, chasing that forbidden little paradise you’d been seeking for months. You instinctively place a hand on the swell of her belly, and Wanda shudders at your touch.

She places a hand on the side of your face, fingers skating over your cheekbones, and the electricity that runs through your blood makes you feel more alive than you’d ever been.

You can feel her warm breath on your lips, tantalising.

You can see her closed eyelids, anticipating.

You can taste that forbidden paradise, addicting.

But the moment is broken like shattered glass when the sound of the doorbell resounds around the house.

“Fuck,” Wanda whispers, jumping into action, scrambling to pull herself together. “It’s my husband. He was gonna come today to collect his shit.” You back away from her, face burning in embarrassment at how excited and desperate you’d been.

“Sorry,” you say awkwardly, watching her check her reflection in the bedroom mirror. “I’ll go now. I won’t bother you anymore.” The sound of keys unlocking the door has you resigning to your fate.

Wanda whips her head around in record time. Only then does she notice your downcast gaze. “Baby,” she croons, coming up to you to cradle your face in her hands. “You know it’s not like that.”

You let out an incoherent grumble, but Wanda cuts you off by pressing her lips against yours in a quick fashion, far too quick for your liking. Nonetheless, you’re left reeling and heart pounding, staring at the older woman wide-eyed.

“I’m divorcing him,” Wanda continues, briskly walking towards the door like she hadn’t just turned your life upside down. “After that, you can have me all to yourself–”

Before Wanda knows what hit her, she’s being pushed against the wall with your lips on hers. You’re quick, and rough, like you’d die without the taste of her tongue. You slide a knee between her big thighs, relentless and stealing her every breath. Wanda moans against you, hands helplessly pinned against the door, her heart beating all too quick.

“Wanda? You there?” A not-so-distant voice calls, then footsteps are heard trudging up the stairs. Spurred on by the movement, you possessively slip a hand up Wanda’s shirt, sliding over her pregnant belly and then to her big breasts, squeezing it in your palm.

“F-fuck,” the mom whimpers, dizzied with your undying fervour. She can feel the wetness in her panties pool, hormones dancing all over the place, her brain screaming at her to let her fuck you right up against the wall and make her cum in front of her husband.

“Tomorrow,” Wanda whispers, as the footsteps edge closer and closer. You pull away, just like that, your hands smoothing over her shirt and resting unnecessarily long on her hardened buds.

Wanda almost laughs in disbelief at your incredible boldness, but after a few seconds the door clicks open and she freezes.

“What’re you doing?” Vision asks suspiciously, emerging from behind the doorway like a figment of her worst dreams.

Wanda turns her head to look at you, for you’d been standing right there just a moment ago. Now, all that’s left is an empty room, a window wide open, and the howling wind.

“Nothing much,” Wanda replies, turning to Vision with a cryptic smile. “Other than moving on from you, obviously.”

Just two floors down, you’re getting onto your skateboard and whizzing away from the house with your legs shaking in adrenaline. Your blood is pumping and your hands are numb, but this little fantasy of yours leaves your heart soaring higher than it ever had before.

i was too lazy to add the taglist, sorry yall. anyways come and yell at me in my asks rn

read part 2 | main m.list | AO3

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #x reader #marvel smut #wanda maximoff x reader smut #wanda maximoff x reader fluff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader smut #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #top reader #dom reader #sub wanda maximoff #bottom wanda maximoff

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circyexistforcontent · 1 year

Text

SAGAU: WHEN YOUR FRIEND JOINS YOUR WORLD

❀ synopsis: the characters are forced to watch as you and your friend frolic around Teyvat unaware of the storm brewing inside of them.

❀ notes: So recently I raised my adventure rank to 16 (I'm at 17 now) and people can now join my world. After my friend discovered this she keeps pestering me to log in to my genshin account so we can fight enemies together. I main Aether while she mains Venti so most of the time we're in Monstadt we would chill together at good hunter which looked like a dinner date. The brain rot immediately hit my head on how the sagau characters would be like with this so here I am writing about it.

❀ pronouns: none specified.

VENTI/BARBATOS:

Envy. That was all he felt as he watches the impostor skipping beside you as you possess Aether. The worst part is he couldn't do anything, no matter what he did the arrows would never be able to hit the other Venti. It was like the winds were obeying the other Venti's orders, making sure it never hit the impostor which infuriated him even more. And he can't just run toward the other and strangle them either because his body would suddenly freeze up and force him to stand in a singular place when the both of you are close. When you and the other Venti are not in his peripheral vision he would be able to move again.

His knuckles turn white as he clenches his bow with strength that is enough to snap it into two. You and the impostor are currently in good hunter sitting across each other on a table, the impostor's voice sounded different from his (which was expected since it wasn't the original anyway) but you didn't seem to notice, or at least didn't care about its voice. He hid behind one of the houses as he stalked on the both of you, his pupils dilating as he watches the other Venti feed you radish stew.

'It should've been me' his breathing became more shallow 'it should've been me' his bow snapped into two before disintegrating into dust and manifesting on his back in pristine condition. His nails dig into the flesh of his palm causing it to bleed, his blood starts to form a puddle next to his foot as he continues to watch the two of you laughing and smiling together. While it shows it was Aether smiling and laughing he knows that Aether is under the influence of your emotions. Meaning if Aether is happy, so are you.

He wishes he could just run up to the impostor and rip off its vocal cords so it may never be able to laugh alongside you. He wanted to pummel its face until it was unrecognizable to anyone seeing its corpse. Its face was never it's own anyway, from what he remembers he was the one who made the promise to take the form of his friend. Not that thing.

DILUC RAGNVINDR

When he saw you and "Venti" walking together while talking he was in shock. How was Venti able to talk to you so normally without him being stuck in one place? Did he find a way to break the code? How? He was going to rush towards the both of you before he found himself slowly freezing and shifting to his idle stance. "Damn it" he thought, Venti better tell him how he broke through the code or he's gonna riot-

What he discovered next shocked him before he felt an inkling of fear inside of him. He saw another Venti, but this one seem to be in a trance of anger and jealousy. The blood on his palms stained his fingers and created a puddle below the ground, but he didn't seem to mind as all of his attention was on the Venti spending time with your host Aether. If Venti was over there then....who is the one talking to you?

When the two of you passed by Diluc he stalked from afar to observe you and "Venti" fighting slimes and exterminating hilichurl camps. While observing he imagines the one fighting beside you was him, slashing any enemy going too close to you and saving you when your health bar goes low. Sadly, dreams are just dreams, and somehow this thing was the one doing what he wants. He freezes when "Venti" suddenly shifted to Kaeya when a pyro slime was approaching the both of you.

The sight of his brother fighting alongside you...he feels his scowl deepen. Was it mocking him? It must have known he was stalking the both of you, why else would it shift to Kaeya conveniently after Diluc was done daydreaming of fighting with you? He couldn't stand the sight of Kaeya being with you and quietly left back to Monstadt. He seems to be more focused on serving the visitors of Angels Share because he was ignoring anything and everything that wasn't related to his work. he didn't even bat an eye at Venti who was sobbing about an impostor stealing you away, chugging a bottle of wine while slurring out words of heartbreak and woe.

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floshav · 11 months

Note

more rodrick PLSSSSS it can be anything

omg this is my first req ever and im so excited thank you!!

you wanted more Rodrick well here's more Rodrick.

part 2 out now!!

summary: Rodricks your best friend but thats not enough for you. As much as you hate to admit, you like the boy. That's why you show up drunk and high at one of his infamous house parties after he'd ranted to you about how he was so so in love with Heather Hills.

warnings: angst, heartache, kissing, Heather Hills, pining, weed, alcohol, crying, one sided love kinda, self hate

wc: 1k+

"She was so pretty."

"Oh yea?"

"No. I dont think you understand, like the way her hair smelled when she strut past me, the smell of..... smell of something light. Fresh! Pink even."

Rodrick practically had stars in his eyes when he described how his crush was at school. You'd be ecstatic if the crush was you, but the world is cruel so here you were talking about Heather Hills for the last hour or so.

"Y'know... I heard she spat on Louise last week. Poor kid, was dosed in her icky saliva for the whole day." Y/n was selfish but she tried to paint Heather in a bad light.

"Shit i'd pay good money for her to spit on me."

Well that backfired she thought.

"Freak" Y/n lightly laughed as she fell back onto Rodricks soft bed. Chest heaving up and down whilst her mind felt clouded.

"What can I say, love makes anyone a freak."

There was that word again. Love. How could he be bloody in love with little miss Heather Hills. The queen of highschool. The perfect girl. Pretty blondie. Pretty face. Y/n quickly began to realise there were plenty of reasons for Rodrick to crush on her. Y/n was a nobody. She thought her face ugly, her style wack, her eyes too uneven. She hated, hated, hated herself and wished she looked like Heather.

"Oh. My. God. I just had the best fucking idea" Rodrick exclaimed with the dorkiest smile he could produce, each fine line below the thickness of his eyebrows seen under the dim lighting of his room.

"Hmm?" Y/n buzzed as she basked in the coolness of his sheets

"M'gonna throw a party" "Heather would definitely come, i mean its one of my parties we're talking about."

Flashbacks to Rodrick's last party hit y/n's head like a train when she remembered how chaotic and horrible the experience was. Drunk teens shouting and chugging unknown beverages, shoulders brushing against shoulders constantly as she tried to find a room she could breath in without having to see another damn couple absolutely devouring eachother. Each and every minuscule second she'd spent in that house made her want to puke. The sight that made her want to puke the most was Rodrick's clearly drunk self throwing himself onto Heather, eyes sparkly with hope whilst she just sat there smiling so sweetly it was sickening.

Quickly she was sent back to reality.

"D'you think that's a good idea?" she questioned, tired.

"Course it is! she always comes to my things"

"Kay' whatever you think is gonna earn you your little dream girl specimen."

"Trust me, this times different." That's what he always said.

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

It's ok. It's ok. I-It's.... it's gonna be fine. she told herself as she admired the makeup she'd put on for tonight's occasion, she'd tried to copy one of Heathers famous looks, but quickly realised it didn't suit her skin so she stuck to her usual and hated herself for it. It was dreadfully the day of his party. The day that she'd have to witness him openly flirt with Heather just because he had an excuse to down a dozen bottles of cheap booze. She swiped a smear of lipstick that somehow ended up below her lip and sighed as she adjusted her shirt. Why do you always give in? Just confess you idiot. No! what the fuck am i thinking. she scrunched her nose and took a deep breath in, abusing her vanity with the pressure from the pads of her fingers.

She really really didn't want to go. She couldn't bare seeing Heather show up with her annoyingly perfect face, her perfect nose, her perfect hair, her stupidly sweet personality that everyone gaped over. Fuck it. She hated herself and wanted to forget that Rodrick even existed.

She found her not so hidden stash of weed she'd carelessly left under a pile of worksheets from her chemistry class, something ionic bonding. She didn't know how long it'd sat there for but it stained the ziplock bag a dull yellow. The bag was crinkled and smelled like the thought of Rodrick. Whenever she was upset or mad at Rodrick she'd smoke weed to drown the thoughts out but she slowly realised it was ruining the drug as a whole for her.

She rolled a joint in a random piece of paper she'd found thrown on her floor and lit up the end, taking a deep whiff of it, smile playing on her lips.

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

"Animals.....Elephants....Tiguurrrsssss!" She slurred as she laid flat on her disheveled bed scrunching the sheets as her eyes formed stars around her ceiling. She got up abruptly, hair a mess and rubbed her eyes deepening the pressure with every second. "Rrrr... What time? Uggggh" She sighed as she reached for her phone. Her room was cloudy and smelled of green. Beside her were a few empty glasses so she took a sniff, curious. Happy juice? No, Vodka she thought. She saw the emptied out bottle of cheap convenience store alcohol by the side of her feet a long with the yellowed bag of weed which was empty. it'd been around 2 hours since she blacked out on her bed somehow thinking about how her fan looked like the shape of animals. Shit, fuck, ass, asshole! she muttered under her breath as she plopped back down.

"Why not? What's thurrr worst that could happennn?" she mumbled eyes fluttering as she picked up her bag and stumbled out her window, careful not to wake anyone. She took the route down the tree that always worked for her but in a clumsy fashion as she fumbled down the hard branches of her overgrown escape buddy. Craaack, Creeeeak. The continuous sounds made her annoyed. "Uggggfh can't everyone just shut up!!"

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

There she was. Standing dumb, drunk and high in front of the booming house lit up by warm yellow light. She could already smell the familiar smell of cheap alcohol, body odour and weed. My kind of night she thought as she barely made her way to the entrance. There were already people outside partying like no tomorrow as some flipped their hair to some overplayed hip hop song that everyone knew. While some were more restricted, sipping on booze as they giggled with their friends. The true highschool experience y/n thought.

Bump.

"Hey! Watch it-"

"Y/n?"

It was someone with beautiful waves of blonde still visible from her clouded vision, pretty makeup and a perfect body. Heather.

"O-Oh hey Heather! Pretty little Heather Hills." Y/n slurred as her vision was still blurred

"Uhm... Y'alright?" She questioned looking back at her friends as if y/n was cuckoo.

"No. No. No. No! Y-you. You. You and your stupidly perfect self can go to hell!" y/n lashed out

"W-what? Y/n what the fuck is wrong with you?" Heather said clearly freaked out by the sudden aggression.

Tears started to cloud y/n's vision so she took in a deeeeep breath trying to suck in as much oxygen as she could.

"Fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! You- You're all he wants. Heather, heather, heather! My perfect little heather with her pretty little face!" Y/n cried out as her knees began to weaken. She had no sense of shame, embarrassment or anxiety. She was too blacked out for this. So blacked out she just blurted her deepest darkest thoughts.

A crowd began to form around them, some curious at the sudden shouting girl who was crumbling a part, vulnerable in front of some people she didn't even know the names of.

"W-what? What are you even saying y/n." Heather said confused and disturbed as she began to back away.

Warmth began to spread at the small of y/n's back. Rodricks hand.

"Y/n? Why the fuck are you screaming?- Y/n s-shit you're not alright." Rodrick hastily slung y/n's arm around his shoulder careful with her as if she was a piece of fine china.

"S-sorry bout' that Heaths, trust me she doesn't mean anything she's saying" Rodrick stutters clearly not drunk enough, nervous as he realises that Heather is clearly agitated.

"Y-yea. It's okay Rodrick. It's not your fault, just get her far from here kay?" Heather said with sympathy and those stupid doe eyes whilst placing a hand on his shoulder. This should've made him tremble with pleasure, but the fact that she'd talked about y/n as if she was a monster made him angry.

"Yea. Yea alright." Rodrick scoffed, lightly rolling his eyes before dragging y/n's blacked out figure up his carpeted staircase, the carpet grazing her knees creating a friction which burned satisfyingly on her kneecaps.

"Fuuuck. Fuck..." Y/n softly mumbled, head tilting to the side of his shoulder as he firmed his grip on the side of her shoulder. Shoulders.... shoulders are for friends, real girls get hands put on their waist. Not shoulders. She managed to conjure the thought in her hazed mind.

He struggled to open his door as y/n's body weight pressed into the side of him as he suddenly heard silent weeps of sorrow erupt from her lips.

He set her on the foot of his bed, careful not to drop her anywhere harsh.

"Y/n? Y/n what's wrong, you're like black out drunk." He asked now bending down with both hands on his knees.

He slowly caresses his hand over the hill of her cheekbone and shoves a fly of hair away from her puffy eyes.

"You....i... Im sick of you and- and her." She sighs as a hysterical tear falls from her eye. Her face was the saddest Rodrick had ever seen and this broke his heart.

"Me and... me and who y/n?" He said so softly as he began to crouch so so close to her, his eyes looking up into hers with genuine curiosity and care. The mention of her name fluttered her heart.

"Heather" She breathed out involuntarily sniffling.

"You don't like me talking about her?" He slowly asked as if all the dots were finally clicking together.

"That's a stupid question." He lowly chuckled as he swiped his thumb under the pad of her eyes.

"I.. I really- I really"

"You really what?" He said again so so softly

"I really like you." She blurted before she felt that familiar rush of heat rapture her face.

Rodrick's eyes glance down to her swollen lips and he feels a strong ache pill at his heart. His best friend just confessed about her underlaying fondness of him and he'd been an ass talking about Heather all the time. He imagined how bad it must've sucked all the damn time.

"I-I'm so sorry I- I always talked about her."

"No! don't fucking be sorry you idiotttt." She slurred

"You- You don't owe me anything." She smiled softly as she fluffed up his hair.

"Maybe..." This is wrong he thought

"Maybe i do owe you an apology." He said slow and steady as he glanced down to her lips and locked with it for the final time.

He slowly moved in to plant a soft kiss on her puffy lips and her eyes widened in surprise.

The kiss felt like heaven and she tasted like everything he was used to. A hint of cherry chapstick, a lot of weed and something coconut. His lips felt so soft against hers and she breathed in every second of the experience. She almost wanted to whine when he pulled away.

"I- Fuck."

Y/n's euphoric high was quickly ruined at the notice of him clearly regretting his decision.

"No- It's fine Rodrick. I get it, it was just a in the moment thing." She sighed as she put both her hands to her face rubbing her cheeks and eyes as if she was trying to rid off the pain in her heart.

"No, no, no! it's not that."

"I just..."

"Fuck it." He went in for another kiss.

--------------------------(end)

thank u for the request!! i hope this was enough to satisfy ur rodrick need lol, if u ever want a smutty end to this lmk but yarrrrr

#rodrick heffley #doawk rodrick #rodrick x y/n #rodrick x fem!reader #rodrick #rodrick x reader #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #rodrick imagines #rodrick fanfic #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley x fem reader #rodrick fanfiction #rodrick heffley fanfiction

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tyinghershoe · 8 months

Note

hey hey :) i love ur writing sm!! i was just wondering if u could do a small blurb or fluff fic of what its like to wake up with izuku, like i can just imagine his bed head and how cute and soft it would be

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Wishful Dreaming

Waking up next to Izuku was as soft as his morning kisses.

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya x reader

Genre: Fluff

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Izukus' blessing from the higher spirits came tangled in between blue-colored sheets. Everything he ever wanted was in the shape of a twin-sized mattress, and everything he ever needed slept on top of it. It was far too early in the morning, but still, the arms that intertwined with his own awakened him with nothing but patience and love.

He knew that heaven existed between these four walls - that the only thing separating the boy from reality and divinity was the angel sleeping next to him. So he smiled as he kissed you good morning, something that is necessary when lying next to a beauty such as yourself.

“Wake up.” He whispers as the softness he feels in his heart spilled in between every syllable. “We need to wake up.”

Unfortunately for him, it was a Saturday, which meant that you’d do everything you can to stay under these covers for just a few more minutes. What’s the point of waking up and getting out of bed? You’d rather stay right here, wrapped up in him as he kissed you every 5 and a half minutes.

With a sigh, he slowly twists and turns so that he could see you at a better angle. If you’re going to be spending the rest of the morning in this nest, he should at least see you perfectly, this wasn’t hard to do though - you were perfect in every angle.

After lounging around a moment - 11 minutes to be exact, or 2 kisses if you use that measurement - you opened your eyes. Now it was you who felt lucky.

A lazy little smile was the first thing you saw, then it was his eyes, then his dark green hair which was always a mystery to you. Green, untamed, and everywhere - That’s how he’d describe his bedhead. His curls stuck out in every which way, some darker than others as the sun made fun of his frizzy state. However, this was merely an illusion, your lover's hair was as soft as his touch (he thanks your strawberry-scented conditioner for that.)

“Hi. Good morning y/n.” He blurbed lazily, words splattering into each other as his heart clenched at the sight in front of him. Dearest, he thought, You looked so beautiful.

You replied with a simple hum, deciding that this moment would be better in your silence, his voice had the effect of putting you back to sleep anyways. He chuckled as he saw your eyelids slowly close and then jerk back open, it was clear that you were fighting the urge to get pulled back into your dreamlike state. He wouldn’t mind really, but he was feeling exceptionally selfish today, and he wanted to talk to his lover.

“‘Zuku..” You began, “Please just 16 and a half more minutes.” - which means 3 more kisses, but he didn’t know about his unconscious habit that was kissing you in rhythm.

Izuku sat still for a few seconds and then slowly pulled himself closer to you, thanking his twin-sized mattress for once again being the perfect size. “Only because you asked so nicely.” He sighed, and then he kissed your temple, starting the timer.

a/n. Hello, it's been a long time since I last visited this blog (half a year!). In all honesty, I didn't know time could move so fast, but I guess this blog is a reminder of that. Sorry everyone, things just caught up to me - but I'm writing again, so I hope to post frequently on this blog.

follow me on ao3! @tyinghershoe

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brodieland · 2 months

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.˚ 𓈒 ࣪.𝝑𝝔 Betrayed, I still miss him though.. ´ˎ˗

Luke Castellan x fem!Reader Word count: 2161 Synopsis: After Lukes betrayal, all reader wanted was to hear what Luke had to say. Then she got an interesting dream... Taking place right after 'The lightning thief'.

I miss him.

He isn't physically dead. Just the version of him everyone knew, more specifically, the version I grew to love. It's been months, 5 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days to be exact since he left. Since Luke Castellan betrayed us and turned to Kronos.

Its Saturday, and just like most other days, I've been stuck in bed sulking, no longer crying, just moping. The day he abandoned me and the rest of camp is a day I can replay on loop. Its still a painful memory, still a fresh wound, still something I'd rather not think about. I never want to leave my cabin, I'm stuck in this bed, stuck in this state of desperation that I'm gonna wake up and this whole thing was a crazy dream one of the gods thought it be hilarious to give me and fuck with my mind because they for some reason love to do that, but I know deep down that's not the case, and I know that the chance of me seeing him again are slim to none.

Time passed and I'm leaving the dining pavilion and walking back to my bunk to just sleep and ignore the world, ignore all the whispers of campers, all of the, 'wasn't she Luke's girlfriend?' 'When was the last time she ran a brush through her hair?' 'Oh my god, she looks terrible.' It's annoying, I can still hear you, you know? Just because the guy I thought was my soulmate and love of my life betrayed me and this whole camp doesn't mean I lost my hearing. Just my motivation to take care of myself, he was the one I got ready for, he was my first thought of when I woke up, and the one I thought of when getting ready and got excited to see everyday. Now he was gone, and so was my motivation for anything.

No one, could replace my Luke Castellan, but my Luke Castellan was gone. Now he's just Luke Castellan.

Sleeping was the only place I could escape my problems, now at least. Right after he left he plagued my dreams, whether I was awake, or asleep, he was there. Though the dreams died down, one would sneak through every now and then. This man was everywhere, I could never escape him. I can't remember a time before him, just a during and after him, and I wish I could go back in time to when we were perfect, to before he stole the master bolt, maybe I could've convinced him not too. Maybe I could've made sure there wasn't an after us.

When he first arrived at camp, Chiron asked me to show him around camp. Of course I happily obliged, why would I turn down the opportunity to spend time and get to know and cute guy with dark curly hair and big brown eyes? I wish I could relive that day, those years in fact.

Luke Castellan was my first everything. He was my first kiss, my first love, my first boyfriend. He was the first guy whom I truly shared myself with, both physically and mentally. He knew me inside and out, literally. He saw me at my highest and my lowest and still told me and made me feel loved, but had that also all been a lie? He was a head Hermes counselor, beloved by all of a camp, best swordsman around, an older brother to the younger campers, a first crush to some of the younger girls, and a best friend to those around him. Those were all lies. But were those nights also all lies? Those nights we had become one and told each other how much we loved one another. Those nights I gave myself in a way I hadn't to anyone, and ways I didn't want to give myself to another man. Was he just using me? Was I just part of his act to trick everyone? He made me feel emotions I'd ever feel toward another man. Love, hate, lust.

What I would do to have one more night with him. And finally talk to him about that night. Luke left before I got the chance to hear about his dishonesty. Luke deceived me until the last second, and I never got an explanation from him. Sure I got one from Percy, Annabeth, and Chiron as well. But never from Luke, That night I was watching the fireworks, oblivious to the double-crossing happening in a deeper portion of the woods just behind me.

I cried myself to sleep that night.

Flash forward back to tonight. I was in another dream, but not just any dream. This was different than my other dreams. It was more than just a dream, I was truly here, like I was just plopped into a new reality, like a dreamscape. I was sitting on half-blood hill, next to Thalia's tree. Looking around everything was slightly static. As I looked over camp there was a bright light coming from behind me making me turn around. I saw a tall door right outside the border of the camp, peaking my interest. After staring at the door for a few moments, you finally walked up, grabbing the knob and waiting for a moment before finally opening the door.

When I walked in, it was like I was transported into a new world, but it wasn't a 'new world.' Through the door, it was a spacious office. A nice mahogany desk at one end of the room looking out onto two leather couches that were facing each other with a coffee table between them all laid out over nice hardwood floors and surrounded by bookshelves. I walked in slowly, not knowing what I was getting myself into when the door disappeared behind me. Slight panic and confusion ran through my bones. How does an entire door just disappear? I turned away and walked toward the desk to look around when suddenly I heard a door open behind me that I, somehow, didn't notice. When I turned around I locked eyes with the last person I ever expected to again.

"Y/N.."

"Luke..."

Silence is all that followed for a few moments. I didn't dare take a step as I turned my body to fully face him. He slowly took a few steps forward, towards me, and we were now standing just arms length from each other. God how I just want to jump into his arms, but I know I can't, so I just stick to not moving.

"How did you get here?" Luke questioned you, still staring at you as starstruck as he used to. It used to make you melt and get weak in the knees when he looked at you like this, now you don't know what to think.

"I, um, don't really know" I started stammering over my words like a loser "I fell asleep and suddenly I was on half-blood hill with this huge door.." I trailed off when I noticed Luke was now standing so close I could feel his breathe. I looked up and he still had that look of awe in his eyes. I probably had that same look in mine. How could I not, I was staring at Luke. Seconds passed and we were just standing there staring in others eyes, now with the tips of our noses touching. These seconds felt like hours when suddenly we were grabbing each others faces and slamming our lips together. I've missed him so much, and I don't care who knows how much I've missed him. I love him and missed the familiar and safe feeling of his lips on mine.

We stood there a moment with lips locked, our hands grabbing each others faces pulling us so close we might fuse together. He then slowly but firmly moved his hands down my body and gripped my waist. That's when I was wrapping my arms as far as possible around his neck pulling him further into me, if that was even possible at that point. I craved this feeling. If there was a word stronger then craved, that was the word. I was obsessed with him and I wanted to crawl in his clothes and live with him forever, but I can't and shouldn't. This was wrong, so wrong, and I really needed to stop but I couldn't, we continued to kiss passionately before a tear was sliding down my cheek. Then followed a second, and before a third one threatened to slip out, Luke pulled away and looked at me with concern. That look of care alone wanted to make me pull him right back in but I didn't, to be fair that would've looked kind of pathetic.

"What's wrong, what's with the tears baby?" The nickname alone made me want to scream. Scream that he was the problem. And scream that he was the only solution, and scream even more that the solution to my problem was forever unobtainable without stabbing everyone in my life in the back and abandoning everyone.

"Why'd you have to do it? Lie to everyone, to me. Was anything even real?" I tried holding back tears, but there were threatening to spill out, and I slowly let them. He grabbed my chin in his hand and wiped my tears with his thumbs.

"You know why. The gods, they don't care about us. They just keep having mortals fall in love with them, messing them up, and leaving there kids to fend for themselves. Think of how many kids that barely survive middle school because of selfish choices the gods made. I didn't start this meaning to lie and hurt more people than just gods, especially not you. Gods, if there was one person I didn't want to hurt, it was you. Honestly. You asked me if it was real, and I'm saying that this, you, are the realest thing in my life. I wouldn't have traded the last few years in my life for anything. They're my favorite memories that I replay every night trying not to miss you more than I already do, but I can't. When your not around its like, a chunk of me is missing. I need you like I need my air, I hate it that I can't have you the way I used too. I know I made a choice that you can't stand with, and you probably hate me-"

I couldn't listen anymore. All I wanted was an explanation but now that I got one I don't know what to think. What he did was wrong, but I just want one last moment with him. I pulled him close one last time sealing our lips together. Back in the same position as before, except now both of our faces had slight tear stains on them. Before I knew it, we were walking toward one of the couches without releasing our lips from each other. We slid down the couch, he sat upward and planted me firm on his lap with my legs straddling him. We continued to make out as he was moving my hips backing forth on his lap. That's when the air and room around us began to slightly static a little more than it was a moment ago. Luke pulled away, leaving me feeling a little empty without his face on mine.

"Y/N, the dreamscape, its about to close.." Luke began,

"What does that mean?" It can't be ending yet, please I haven't had enough time.

"It means we're about to wake up, and we might not see each for awhile.. I'm sorry" Luke apologized, he stared into my eyes for a split second before reaching into his pocket to grab something. "Here."

There it was, his camp necklace with all five beads on them. I slowly picked up and held them close, like they might be the last thing I'll ever get from him. "Thank you, Luke"

"I love you, Y/N."

"I love you more, Luke-"

I shot up in your bed, drenched in sweat. I looked around my cabin, seeing everyone sound asleep in their bunks. Then I noticed something sitting in my hand, had it really been real? I looked down and of course, there it was. Luke's necklace. A lonesome tear slid down my face as I stared at it, but it wasn't out of sadness, I was smiling. I felt better knowing I finally got to talk to him, knowing I finally got what I wanted from him, and now have a little keepsake from him. I know I'm supposed to hate him, but I can't. In the meantime, I'll start healing and starting over, but never will I hate Luke castellan nor forget him. I'll keep the beaded necklace in my pocket for now, I don't know how to explain how I got it, or what I did to get it.

..............................................................................................................................

I've never written anything before, so lemme know gang

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke pjo #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan x you #luke castellan angst

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haruhey · 4 months

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Wish I Never Met You

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Word count: 4k

Fluff | Angst | Thank you @weretheones and @normanplusdaryl for betaing <3

You’re part of Daryl’s past, but you could also be his future.

A bad day leads the two of you to each other.

Whoever said it’s better to love and lose Never loved and lost you

Daryl barely made it through sophomore year.

In all honesty, he was impressed he even got to junior year. When Merle left at the tail end of spring, he - in all of his younger brother naïveté - thought he would come back before the semester ended, taking him from the dump they called a house and from that asshole they had the unfortunate pleasure of calling their old man.

But July came and went, then August, and by the time the new school year rolled around, Daryl stopped waiting for him - just shouldered his backpack and went to school because where the fuck else was he supposed to go?

He gave the whole school thing two weeks. It was enough time to mark off attendance - to lay low before he traded his backpack for his crossbow and started hunting for that weird butcher shop three blocks down to make some money - and he had intended on following it.

Intended, being the right word, because the plan went to shit the second Mr. American History started pairing people up for those dumb, mandatory, biweekly collaborative projects.

Intended, because it just had to be you he was paired with, didn't it? His stupid classroom crush he tried so hard to stop thinking about?

He remembers seeing you for the first time in some math class in sophomore year, and he’d, in his hormone-ruled, bored-out-of-his-mind teenage brain, spent the better half of the period just looking at you. He never worked up the courage to say anything about it to anyone, but you were the prettiest thing he’d seen in his 16 years on Earth, and he hated the way you made his hands all clammy.

Even years later, he looks back on the months he spent being your friend, and he still feels that crushingly familiar clench of his chest.

Maybe it wormed its way almost permanently into him those weeks he first sat next to you in American History. It was a compulory course and both you and he hated it. The teacher - Durand, but Daryl took to calling him Dickhead and Deranged just to see which would make you roll your eyes the hardest - was a notorious douchebag, round glasses over a nose that was entirely too big to stay on his face and three strands of gray hair that seemed to be holding onto his head by spite alone.

He never seemed to take Daryl seriously, even though Daryl knew more than double the amount of history you did. You could pick his brain for hours about the pirates and the Sumerians and the Cherokee and their legends, and he’d let you, despite the glare that marked over his face for anyone else.

In exchange, you let him pick your brain, too. Over the piece of apple pie the two of you would share on the rare occasion you’d both scraped together enough to figure it would be worth buying, he asked about your future. He tried picturing himself with you through it all despite knowing there was nothing for him outside of this shithole town, and he listened to you talk.

He could listen to you talk for hours.

You had big dreams, considering you came from the same place he did, but he had faith you could do it. He knew you could, and even looped his pinky with yours, your thumb pressed up against his while he promised to make it to graduation. He had to watch you toss your cap and flip the bird at 4 years of hell, didn’t he?

But then winter came, and with the Christmas break rounding the corner, Merle came back too, peeling into the dirt road in front of the Dixon dump and taking Daryl along with him. You remember coming back when the second semester started, the same room that had once been used for History now a Government class, and you had hoped to suffer through it together.

You made it through one school week until you’d started asking around.

Nobody got themselves involved with the Dixons - with their surly tempers and their permanent scowls, but you’d gotten into the habit of ignoring those words when you were with Daryl - so when no answers turned up, you weren’t really surprised.

You figured he must have finally gotten his out from his old man.

It was only at graduation that you’d found out what happened to him, overhearing one of the principals talking about how both of Will Dixon’s sons had run away from home and how he’d drunkenly bragged about finally beating sense into them, and, though you knew it was selfish, as the ceremony ticked on, you still hoped Daryl would come back in time to watch your cap toss.

He never did.

When he finally did come back to Georgia, it was a little over a full year later. The old lady that ran the diner the two of you hung around after school had told him that you got a scholarship offer in May - some bigshot school out west - and that you’d packed your bags and left in August.

You weren’t set to come back until the year ended in April, and he wasn’t planning on staying.

He wasn’t planning on making staying anywhere a habit, and, in the blink of an eye, twenty years passed.

A second blink and the world fell.

Everything changed so quickly that it truly did feel like an instant as minuscule as a blink - the dinosaurs had the meteor, and life before them had the ice age - and he couldn’t help but wonder if this was just a breath before a new age flooded in.

It seems like everything he thought about was about the future. Some of it he would have considered trivial before - when the next meal would come, when the next time he’s going to fill his canteen is and where the next source of freshwater is - but, in this blip of time, he hesitates to call it that.

Sometimes, when he went out on his bike or shouldered his crossbow and slipped his knives into his holsters, he thought about how Li’l Asskicker and Carl would grow up - how they would never really get to be kids in the same way Rick probably wanted them to be - and almost nothing he did felt trivial anymore.

It scared him, he guesses - how much he cared about those kids and how much everyone else did, too.

He wished someone cared about him like that when he was younger.

It was good, though, this pressure. Daryl was never really one to half-ass anything in the first place, but with the intake of Woodbury and the Council’s decision to start bringing people in, there was a new drive to care. It rippled through the prison, and he liked it, being a part of something bigger than himself.

He felt like someone new.

Someone that mattered - that did good - instead of being some asshole with a bigger asshole for a brother.

At least, he did until he saw you.

Two weeks after taking in the people of Woodbury - with one week spent out recruiting and another spent in the infirmary because they’d met some less than friendly people who definitely did not fit the recruitment criteria - he saw you from around the corner, an all too familiar face helping Carol with meal prep in the courtyard.

He didn’t eat lunch that day, and to say he avoided you was an understatement.

There was something about you that brought back feelings he would have rather left in the past. You reminded him of when he was a teenager, stuck in his shitty hometown with his piece of shit old man and no way out. But at the same time, you reminded him of those nights spent down at the creek, skipping stones and staring at the stars, that comforting lack of second-guessing because he knew he was, for the first time in his life, in the company of someone who actually wanted to spend time with him.

You reminded him of that diner with the warm apple pie, and he never could forget the first time his heart ever beat against his ribs like it was too big for his chest.

But, most of all, you reminded him of first love and his broken promise - of a future he could never have had.

Daryl hated it, being confronted with his past like that.

So yeah, maybe he did revert back to his old ways of hiding and just trying not to think about his problems, and yeah, maybe he did take one too many runs back to back so he wouldn’t have to keep fighting the urge to look for you despite simultaneously being scared shitless at the thought of talking to you, but it was successful in staying away from you, and that’s all he cared about.

Or, well, he thought it was.

Because, though it’s been nearly two decades since you’d thought about high school - with it long since becoming college, and college into adulthood - it’s crossed your mind more than you’d liked to admit lately. It’s an odd feeling, an ill-fitting nostalgia creeping through the holes of your blanket-covered cell bars, but it was oddly comforting. You never thought you’d ever think of that place as comforting, but maybe it wasn’t high school that you found yourself chasing in the dead of night.

It was him.

Daryl never really knew how popular he was - here, and back then, when those minutes before and after gym class divulged into shushed remarks about his looks and half-serious confessions of crushes muttered to the secrecy of the changeroom’s four walls - but you did. You were always on the other side of it, silent in your agreement.

Woodbury - or, well, ex-Woodbury - was no different.

He’s a far cry from that scrawny little kid you split your lunch with all those years ago, but there's still the linger of boyish handsomeness to him that made your cheeks heat when you thought about him too long. There was no mistaking him for anyone else, but that subdued, ultraviolet warmth you’d grown familiar with was gone from his eyes.

He’s not seventeen anymore, flipping his uncut hair from his face as he taught you how to skip stones and catch fireflies, but you wanted to talk to him all the same. There’s not much left from the old world - let alone much that you could have considered good, or wanted to remember - but he’s one of the few things you’d cared enough about to keep safe from the pulling tide that faded your memories.

He made that shitty town more bearable, even if it was for those few months. Gritting your teeth and enduring had become tiring until he’d grimaced at that first History Inquiry project and made you laugh with the annoyed upturn of his lip.

You’d planned on thanking him at graduation, but he’d left months before then.

You’d planned on a lot of things to be frank, but there’s no reason to linger in the past when now is a shell of what then was.

There’s even less of a reason when now feels heavier than then ever was.

Today would have marked ten days without incident, a first foray into the monumental double digits until the sun had set behind the return of the run crew’s RV and Beth was forced to flip the number back to zero.

It’s been four hours since they came back - a quarter of the group gone from the unfriendlies they’d met, another dealing with the aftermaths of the encounter and one more made up from those the crew’s recruited - and it’s the first time in those four hours that you’ve left the dingy wing of the infirmary.

You didn’t hate it in there. Far from it, actually, with Hershel and the others being half-decent company and seeing the work you did benefiting people, but the infirmary, especially on days when the crews rounded back, meant the stinging smell of blood and death lingered no matter how much you scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed. It stuck to every crevice on your body, and it permeated. Guilted you for not trying hard enough and not knowing enough.

On days like this, everywhere you went seemed too small and too unforgiving, and you’re not sure if you can stand tossing and turning in your bunk. The night sky is a friendlier sight than your ceiling, and the view from the abandoned watchtower is a hell of a lot better than the tiny, barred-up window at the corner of your cell.

If you’re lucky enough, maybe sleep will steal you for a couple of hours before the sun comes up. At least enough to make it through the next day.

You have faith it will - you can already feel the first wave of exhaustion pull at your bones.

Taking a breath, you press your hands into your pockets after pushing the door to the Prison open and slipping out. Autumn is beginning to seep through the cracks of summer and the nights are starting to get colder, but your jacket should be enough until you climb up and find sanctuary in the sleeping bag you’d left there three days ago.

It doesn’t take long to reach the door - if you jig the knob to the right before twisting and skip the third step from the top, the trek upwards is close to silent - but when you open it, the creak yields, at first, an expletive before the annoyed voice tears through the quiet.

“I already told ya I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout-”

The volume of him makes you take a step back, the sound of a man making your body lock up for just a second before you recognize the mess of hair atop his head and the wings stitched on the back of his vest, and you make quick work getting to him, crossing the platform in a single stride.

“Daryl?”

And he’s quick to realize the person speaking to him isn’t Carol like he’d thought. Though he really really really hopes it’s not you, the familiarity of your voice leaves little room for speculation, even before he turns his head and - for the first time in a long time - really, really looks at you.

“Oh.”

His heart beats in his ears and locks his throat before he can muster up anything else to say, and for a second, you wonder if you should introduce yourself to him.

“Sorry, I, uh, wasn’t expectin’ no one to be here.”

But the knowing upturn of his eyebrows - his apology, and the way he scoots himself over to make room for you the same way he did in those library reading nooks - tells you you don’t need to, and your shoes slide against the concrete as you drop down to a sit.

He remembers you, too, the sweat of his hands too obvious with the fact, even though he wishes he didn’t.

He wishes there wasn’t a familiarity in the way you sidle your body against his, swinging your legs underneath the railing and over the balcony, and he wishes he couldn’t feel the heat coming off of you.

He wishes it didn’t wrap him up like the warm rays of sun, and he fights down a smile at the fact that you always were so bright. He wishes he didn’t remember you like that - glossed over in a blinding, yellow hue.

Daryl wishes he never remembered you like sunshine - he wishes he didn’t still.

Picking up the glass next to him - just to occupy himself and bide the time until his nervousness hopefully washes away into general apathy - he takes a sip before setting it down and taking a pull of the cigarette in his other hand.

The smoke is slow to fill his lungs, but he welcomes it anyways, holding it there as the nicotine-drawn buzz settles in his brain, and then he breathes it out, angling his head up and away from you.

You never liked it, the Malboros he’d swiped from his old man that he’d keep tucked in the smallest pocket of his worn-down backpack, but you’d told him one night, not unlike the one you’re both trying to find solace in right now, that you were scared of what his father might do if he found out.

Then you slipped in the obviousness of his health, just to break the tension of vulnerability, but it hit Daryl like a truck, the fact that he’d never had someone think about him like that before - like they actually cared.

“Heard your brain cells can rot if you do that.”

He raises an eyebrow at you only to be met with a small smile playing at your lips and the slightest bit of a sparkle in your eye, and the taste still lingering on his tongue reminds him of what he’s been doing. The glass is half full with the room-temperature whiskey he’d tried to make himself feel better with after stitching up his own wounds, and there’s ash from his smoking gathered beside one of the railing's poles, and despite the knowing you’re probably right, he sighs, waving your concern away.

“Ain’t worried. Don’t got a lotta them anyways.”

The cigarette between his fingers is lit still, and he takes another drag before the grayed end of it crumbles to the floor, fighting the upward tug of his cheeks at the sound of your amused huff and your quick response.

“That’s why you gotta take care of the ones you still have, Daryl.”

Scoffing, he tilts the edge of the glass towards you, holding it out for you until you take it from him, and he tries not to think about how the tips of his fingers burn when they brush up against yours. It’s not as sweet, the innocence of a teenage crush long since faded into the dull pang of expired love and loss, but it rushes through him all the same.

He would have offered you a cigarette, too, but you’ve never been one to pick up habits that bad.

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you then, the sky offering a serenity the two of you are less than strangers to, and you wince from the liquor when you finally take a sip. It’s nothing like the moonshine he’d smuggled from his dad’s stash - it went down a hell of a lot smoother than you remember that shit going - but your tolerance has taken a nosedive since weekends unwinding and inter-departmental parties had ended.

Besides, the only places you could get alcohol back in Woodbury were way above your paygrade.

Placing the cup back onto the concrete, you steal a glance at Daryl, spending just a second studying the curve of his nose and the jut of his cheekbone. He’s more handsome than he’s ever been, and you can feel the heat rush up your neck before you blink away the thought.

Get a hold of yourself.

But you can’t, not when he’s so close, and you’re not sure if it’s wholly unselfish, what makes you drop your eyes down from his face, but you do, and you realize why he was so on edge when he heard the door open.

He’s fidgeting. Ever since he put out his cigarette, he’s restless and can’t quite figure out what to do with his hands in the same way he was when you’d asked him why he never wanted to go home back in the school library, and it sends you back, too, a familiar pit growing in your stomach. It’s like he’s that kid again, scared of telling you - or, well, people - things that hurt because his stupid brother and dad drilled into him that he’s less of a man for even feeling hurt in the first place, and it’s equal parts infuriating and concerning.

You can tell that the gears are turning in your head as you try to piece him together; a run crew came back just today, and you haven't seen him in a little while. It doesn’t take a genius to make the connection - especially with everyone’s propensity to talk about how Daryl brought them in - and though you might regret it, you decide to pry.

Not pry, just ask.

Conversation used to flow so easily between the two of you. Were you naïve to hope it would again?

“Bad day?”

It’s small, your voice, teetering in the air with its uncertainty, but Daryl doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he glances down at the space between you, wrapping his fingers around the highball before meeting your gaze, and he bites the inside of his cheek, weighing the option of telling you or not.

“Jus’ tired is all.”

And though he hesitates those first few words, your eyes are so kind - so genuinely caring - that he can’t stop himself from saying more.

That was what he was scared of.

Why hasn’t he let you go?

“Sick’a fuckin’ losin’ people.”

The frustration when he speaks is palpable, and you’re not sure if it’s bravery or stupidity that makes you move - maybe it’s both, culminating in your own desire that someone would finally see through your crippling bravado and offer you a hug or something - but your hand snakes out to grab his before you even think, shaking it slightly in the strength of your squeeze.

Then he freezes, and for a second, you think you must have overstepped - that he’s going to push you away and yell at you and leave - but he doesn’t. He just takes a breath, the heft of it rising his shoulders then dropping it as he squeezes your hand back harder, a silent thank you in the press of his fingers against yours.

But still, he lets go, afraid the warmth in his chest might make him do something he regrets, and you chew at the dried skin of your lip, thinking about the right thing to say.

Fuck, you could never navigate things like this - it got better as you got older, sure, but words always seemed to fall short when it came to you and him - and when you finally settle on something, half of you wonders if it was just because you thought it better than nothing.

“I feel you.”

Because what else are you supposed to say? That it’s going to be alright and that he shouldn’t blame himself because it's so blatant he is? It’s thin ice you’re walking on, the fear of sounding patronizing drowning out the spark of hope you want to light him with, because you remember the man he was. He’s never had anyone fighting in his corner, and you’re not callow enough to think he thinks of you as something - someone - different.

But he does. He does think of you as someone different, and he wants to say more, but he doesn't know where he stands with you, or with himself. If he says what he’s thinking - that he feels like it is his fault and that he’s not sure if he could ever stop feeling like that. That he’s scared shitless and like it’s some big joke that people actually look up to him for things - wouldn’t that make it feel too real?

So he doesn’t. He just tips the lip of the glass against his and takes another sip to make sure his mouth is occupied, staring down at the bottom ridge of it until you speak again, and he’s helpless to do anything but look at you.

“At least it’s beautiful out tonight.”

He’s sent back to twenty years ago then - the scrawny redneck you’d somehow deemed good enough to be your friend forcing his old habits back to the him of the present - and he can’t help the squeaked little noise of a response. Words have always been hard for him, too. They’re hard for him to think of and even harder for him to form, and it’s made worse by the fact it’s almost like he’s back at 16, convinced that you’re too pretty to talk to.

“Yeah.”

And though you hear his hum of agreement, he never looks away from you, admiring the curve of your familiar smile and the rise of your cheekbones.

The lurch of his heart comes back then - the same beat against his ribs that he hated all those decades ago - and it’s stark then, the realization you’ve never really left him.

“Ain’t never seen nothin’ like it.”

Pressing his lip to the edge of the glass once more, he welcomes the burn of whiskey when you smile at the moonlit horizon, and he watches as you lean your chin against your arms.

You’re beautiful - more beautiful than all the colours in the star-speckled sky - and he could stare for hours.

#haruwrites #daryldixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon angst #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon x you #the walking dead oneshot #twd

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idcbabyialreadylostmymind · 1 year

Text

Rebellion pt.1

Pairing- Sully family x Sully!reader

Summary- Your going through a rebellion amd how easy can it be for your siblings to keep all the stuff they see you doing a secret.

Na'vi Translations- au- drum, Reypaytun- red, tsmisnr- lantern, 'ite- daughter

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

A/N- did i make up two whole ass plants up for this fic yes yes I did and there will be a pt. 2 i just need to come up with ideas for it

Rules. Rules. Rules. That's all your father talked about. Who you can't hang out with. What you can't wear. Can't say. Can't do. Can't, Can't Can't. That's all he does, you're sick and tired of his rules.

First it started with the clothes. You had to wear shawls over your open armed tops, you threw all your shawls away. No short or high split loincloths. You started dressing how you wanted, regular revealing tops that everyone loved, and high slit loin skirts and loincloths.

"Y/N, Dad’s gonna skin you alive if he sees you in that." Kiri hissed as she saw you pull your low waisted loin skirt on. You turn to Kiri and put your hands on your hips. "You forget Kiri. I don't care what dad thinks because I am my own person." You say before pushing yourself out of your room and Kiri only shakes her head.

And then the parties. Every teen in the Omatikaya snuck out at night and snuck deeper in the woods to drink fermented nectar and smoke the Reypaytun flower, but not the Olo'eyktan's kids who had too many rules.

As you heard the light snoring of your mother and father, you got out of your cot and changed into your clothes. Opening a curtain window, you dip your feet over it and jump out following the other young Na'vi into the woods. You caught a few peoples eyes and a boy approaches you, Ao'zuk that's his name, an amazing healer. "I didn't know you came to these things." He said over the loud beat of the au. "I didn't." You say before taking his cup of nectar taking a big sip, it was bitter with a slight sweet aftertaste. "But I do now." You say and he smirks.

And that's how your nights went, did whatever duties your father humbly bestowed upon you during the day, and when Eclipse hit and all the adults were asleep you snuck out, drank, smoked, danced, and touched.

Little did you know your little brother, Neteyam, saw your nightly exhibitions and he wanted to know what you did. So he waited. Waited for you to change and sneak out, waited thirty minutes and followed the muffled sound of music.

And then he stepped into a swarm of dancing, making out, grinding, drinking, and smoking teens. And then he saw you sitting on someone's legs and they placed a small flower on your tongue. You swallowed as your already glazed eyes felt the flower kick in, pupils dilating in and out. Euphoria rushed through your veins as the man you sat on stuffed a bag into your bag and then you thanked him. You stayed there with a lazy smile as you blink up at the sky. Neteyam rushes home, what have you done to yourself?

He didn't know what to do. He crawled back into bed and closed his eyes. Only to shoot back open when he heard you creep back into the kelku. He heard you sit on the bed and open the bag and take another one. He cringes at the rustles of the bag, oh how he just wished this was a dream.

So he held hope that it was.

It wasn't.

He woke up and you held your bag to your chest protectively. He gulped thinking about what you had in there before shaking his head, getting ready for his duties for the day.

And as you stumbled up he never saw you without your bag by your side. Now it was time for the communal lunch, He sat by you and you looked over to him before taking a bite of the fruit in your hand. He wanted to know what is so cool about this stuff that you do all of it. “Y/N, can you take me to the party tonight, since mom and dad are on that hunting trip.." Neteyam whispered to you as Lo'ak sat between the two of you. "Oooo party, I'm so coming." He said and you were shocked. Swallowing the food in your mouth, "Um neither of you are going." You say and Lo'ak looked at you with disbelief. "If we can't come I'll tell mom and she'll tell dad—"

"Okay, okay! Just.. don't fall asleep. I don't feel like walking your heavy sleeping ass up." You reply to them before returning your attention to your food.

And so the two boys laid awake, until they heard the soft snoring of your sisters. They crouched out of bed after you changed. And just before they climbed out the window after you they heard an all too familiar voice. "Where are you guys going?" Kiri's voice rang through your ears and you regretted even letting them come along. And before you even knew it she was tagging along as well, holding her bag and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

You curse under your breath as you walk into the woods, younger siblings on your tail. Finally you made it, the sounds of loud pamtseo howling through the wind. Ao'zuk walked up to you and your siblings, reeking of fermented nectar as his arms wrapped around your waist. "Ao'zuk." You said warningly. "Come tìyawn I just got some fresh reypaytun from Za'kin." He said hands going a little lower than wanted.

Removing his hands, "Go wait for me." You say and he stumbles to the group who passed a pipe around.

"Reypaytun really?" Kiri asked and you rolled your eyes. "I thought dad told us to never to touch that stuff." Lo'ak asked. "I don't see dad here and besides, I'm gonna go have some fun," you say, starting to walk off before turning back to your siblings, "Don't take anything anyone gives you and only drink water." You instruct your younger siblings who looked bewildered that you were leaving them.

You sit next to Ao'zuk and he hands you the pipe but not before taking a huge hit. You settle closer to his side and take a hit before passing it again waiting for the effects to take place.

And they did, your blood ran fast, puplis bigger than ever as you danced, hips and arms swaying in the wind as you danced to the beat with the others. You feet and head hurt, you grabbed onto Ao'zuk and he gives you a lazy smile as he held your hips making you dance. Your head spun and your eyes were half-lidded and red as you shook your head no. "You’re having fun." Ao'zuk laughed and you felt like you wanted to cry but all you did was smile and say yes.

Neteyam saw you from the side and he felt his stomach churn the more he saw the distress in your eyes.

Finally you stumbled off the dance floor and caught your breath. The woods, the fire, the music it was getting to you, you held your head in your hands as the trees started to move and blend together. And then you felt a hand on your arm making you blink. It was Ao'zuk he held something in his hand before sliding it to you. "It'll take the edge off." He yelled as you put it in your mouth drinking the rest of the nectar in your cup.

Stumbling to your siblings, your eyes glazed over and bloodshot red, you point to the hometree and they went. "Did you have fun?" Lo'ak asked and you looked at him and gave him a lazy smile with tears in your eyes as you spoke. "Yeah."

None of your siblings spoke of what happened that night. But Neteyam couldn't get the despair that took over your face that night. He couldn't let you ruin yourself. No matter how much you were going to hate him for what he was about to do.

Neteyam waited for you to sneak out and he knew tonight would be the night your parents got back. He waited for them with a tsmisnr to keep a dim light. As he heard the rustles of the makeshift curtain that acted like a front door, he watched his parents walk in quietly. Jake jumps a bit seeing his oldest son sitting in a dimly lit room.

"Son." Jake whispered and Neteyam’s palms got sweaty, his stomach bubbling in anxiety.

"Um, I have something to tell you guys." Neteyam said and his mother looked confused as she sat down along with her husband.

"What is it?" Neytiri asked and Neteyam looked up. "Y/N, she's been sneaking out and drinking and using Reypaytun and she takes these small flowers and I can't just watch her do this to herself and.. and so I'm telling you guys." Neteyam stammers out and he watches as Neytiri's face falls as well as his father’s, from the new load of information they learned of their eldest daughter.

"Where is she now?" Jake asks gruffly and Neteyam sighed. "At a party." Neteyam answered and Jake sighed deeply. "I will go see if my mother will watch the children and Neteyam so we can talk to her whenever she gets back." Neytiri said and Neteyam shook his head. "No, I told you guys I should be here when she comes home." Neteyam replies before Jake nodded as Neytiri picked up Tuk and woke the others up.

They waited and waited. It was quite a long time till you got back, Jake began to get irritated and Neytiri worried. And then they heard shuffling in the other room.

You walk in and don't see your siblings, worried, you walk into the other room, and your eyes widen as you see your brother sitting with your parents and avoiding eye contact with you.

"Y/N, come sit down." Jake said roughly and you clutched your bag as you sat down. "Yes..?" You say as you sit at the table that you father made. "Where were you?" Jake hoped you'd tell the truth.

You straighten your back and look down at your trembling legs. "With my friends." You reply simply and Jake clicks his tongue. "We know the truth Y/N, your brother told us." You look at him and then at Neteyam. "Told you what?" You ask, face and palms getting hot. "We know you've been sneaking out, smoking, drinking and about those flowers you take." You had a deadpan expression on your face and then you realized Neteyam had told on you.

"I don't know what your talking about." You try and lie your way out. "Neteyam told us." Neytiri said and you send a deadly glare towards your younger brother. "And you believe him! Huh?!" You exclaim and Jake holds his hands up. "Well Y/N, why would he lie about this?”

You push yourself out of your chair and rub your face before huffing. "I don't know why he would do that. But I- I have no clue what you're talking about." You refused to give it up and Neteyam just wanted it to stop.

"Open your bag Y/N." Neteyam said and you eyed him from where you were. "No." You say and Jake looks at his son and then at you. "Come 'ite give me the bag." Neytiri reaches for the bag that was placed on your shoulder and you snatch it away from the woman, panic running through your body.

"I don't know why you’re all ganging up on me." You defend yourself.

"No one is ganging up on you sweetie. Just give me the bag." Jake said and you shook your head but before you knew it he had already grabbed your bag. You tried to snatch it back but it was too late as he and your mother now stood in front of you looking between you and the bag. Your chest heaved with every breath you took. You were so nervous, more nervous than you've ever been.

Jake opened the bag and he closed his eyes as he saw a bag full of small flowers, pollen, a substance that gets you so high you forget your own name.

''Really,'' He said taking the smaller bag in his hand and throwing it on the table. You close your eyes and whisper a quiet 'fuck'. Before covering your face and huffing into your hands and taking them off and quietly laughing. ''Fuck me.'' You say as a pitful excuse of a chuckle erupts from your throat.

''I thought we taught you better than this.'' Jake said and you looked at him and laughed. ''Yeah well looks like you didn't'.” You say and then your bloodshot eyes look at Neteyam who had a confused look on his face.

''Neteyam can you leave?'' You point to the door before an irritated breath leaves your lungs and his nonexistent eyebrows furrow. “Why? Y/N, I'm just trying to help you.'' He asked and you clench your jaw. ''Because honestly looking at you makes me physically. fucking. ill.'' You yell at him making him flinch, his ears laid still on the sides of his head.

''Y/N!'' Jake yelled at you and you look over rolling your eyes. ''Neteyam, son, go with your other siblings.'' Neytiri told her eldest son who nodded and left.

Your other siblings seemed to be eavesdropping and he shooed them off they all held a shocked face. You had never yelled at them before but here you are.

Turning back to your father, you sneer, why'd Neteyam have to tell? That's what you were thinking over and over again. "Y/N I've tolerated the clothes, but now sneaking out and- and now this." He said picking up the bag on the table. Rolling your eyes once more. "Just tell us what's gotten into you, babygirl-" he goes to touch your cheek but you step away from him.

"Nothing has gotten into me, I'm sorry I'm not daddy's little girl anymore, and don't listen to every stupid rule you make. You don't know shit about me,, neither of you do so stop pretending that you do." You say before walking out of the home leaving your parents confused, what happened to their little girl?

#avatar 2 #avatar 2022 #avatar #avatar 2009 #avatar way of water #avatar x reader #avatar x reader fluff #avatar x y/n #avatar x sully!reader #sully!reader #sully family x reader #sully family #jake sully x daughter!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #neteyam x sister!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader

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broooooo · 11 months

Text

A Jocked dream

_______________________________________

A rewrite for my first story on this blog, I hope to make it better

I am Aaron, a high schooler, I've never been very social, I was a very protected child as a kid, I'm also asexual, meaning I don't find sexual attraction to any gender, I have long hair, I'm skinny and have bland style, I'm not very smart, and I hate most lessons.

To be honest I hate it all, I'm quite jealous of everyone , wishing I could be one of the popular guys, hot and muscular with lots of courage.

Occasionally I get the chance to talk with the older guys, I feel happy around them, they said I was there friend and I could always talk to them.

Its the closet I get to my dreams

_______________________________________

Whilst sitting alone under a tree, Jason, one of the popular guys and football jock from the group comes and sits with me

" yo Arron what up ma bro"

Extends fist for fist bump

I look up a bit confused but happy to see him

"hello Jason" fit bumps back*

"nutin much , just waitin for class"

"isn't it math?" I say

" yeah bro that shit sucks ass"

I laugh " damn right, I fuckin hate math , sucks major ass"

Jason's a little shocked but understanding.

"YOO damn right bro, sports so so much better, why don't you join a sports team bro?

I sigh saddly

Jason notices and sits next to me

"yo bro, what's wrong"

"well.. As a child my parents rejected the notion of me wanting to do sports, quite surprising if you think about it"

Jason's head almost blew up after hearing that.

" WHAT BRO, your parents suck for that, you wanted to play?"

I look up and smile

"yeah... I wanted to play football, and I still wouldn't mind , just It's too late for me, I'm no longer a child"

Jason puts his hands on my shoulders and looks me straight in the eye.

"bro, let me help you, it's never too late, coach can definitely help you"

I look up shocked and excited

I smile back and say

"yes, sure go ahead"

"YOOOOO BROOOOOOO"

Jason runs around excited as hell

He extends his hand to me

"come with me Aaron, let's get started right away,

I'll take you to coach!"

I take his hand

_______________________________________

Me and Jason walk through the school until reaching the sports hall where coaches office is

We walk up to the door and Jason opens it guiding me in.

Jason walks up to coaches desk

"Yo coach gotta minute?"

Coach sits up and adjusts his shirt that's tightly pressed against his large muscles.

"Jason my boy, need something?

And hm? Who ?, Looks me straight in the eye"

"well he's why I'm here, this is Aaron, my best bro, he wants to becum like me, he wishes to play football and becum a jock"

I'm feeling nervous hearing this.

"well Aaron, is that so, I can definitely help you , thank you Jason for bringing him here,

Jason please go to the locker room and get a kit ready"

"yes coach!, See you later bro",

he says to me as he leaves

"Aaron, please, sit down, let's chat"

I sit down in front of the his desk

" care for a beer son? It's a favourite between the players"

(Hmm I don't drink all that often but sure, I think in my head)

"Sure sir, I don't mind"

"please, call me coach, and take as many as you like, I just know you will want more"

I smile back, "thanks"

I take a big gulp of beer and start to sip it

"so son, you want to play football? You don't look like your very active?"

I pause for a second feeling calm from the beer

"as a kid my parents didn't want me to play sports, I was Hella protected, it's only because of Jason that this is happening"

Coach looks shocked and pale from what I said

"well that's no way to live is it! I'm glad you're here today because from now on you're gonna be a football jock, ill be the father you never had"

I am shocked by his words but also comforted by them

"thank you so much coach, I hope to make you proud"

I go to take another sip of my beer but find it's empty

Well now...

"yo coach, hand me another beer ?"

(Yo? Did I just?.. well whatever)

"hah, what did I say, the jocks love this stuff, and you're pretty much one of them now" he hands me another beer.

I go pale now, and my dick is extremely hard now my heart beating and my thoughts cloudy,

Wait.. did I just finish this beer ?

Well damn

"well son, you really like it, I'm impressed, heres another, come with me to the locker room, and don't worry, we have a stash of beer in there too!"

I take the new beer bottle and walk with him to the locker room, where my bro Jason went

(Bro? Yeah... Broooooooo)

_______________________________________

Walking into the locker room , coach guides me to one of the benches , it and a big screen TV Infront of it.

"sit down son, let me help you out of your clothes

watch what's on the screen"

I sit down and just stare at the screen, drunk out of my mind as I had finished the 3rd beer on the way here, coach stripping me. I begin in drool and leek pre as I look at the screen

"stare Aaron stare"

"Listen to its words, let it becum who you are meant to be, who you want to be"

I stare hard , foggy... dick... Hard.. huhu

The screen fills me up with tactics and football, all about football, and sex, locker room sex with the bros, huhu.. brooo. Im so horny now...

He moves on with his plan

He injects a serum into me, body grows

He starts to play with my expanding nipples, as my chest becums inflated and flat, my arms exploding in hard muscle with hands hard and rough from the sports and the gym

My legs becum tree trunks with thighs of steel, with a tight ass.

My feet grow and expand .

Finally my washboard 8 pack cum gutter abs.

Coach then pays attention to my hard and leaking, now 12 inch dick and lemon sized balls swirling with jock cum

"having fun Aaron, don't worry, were almost over'

Now say it, recite the words you know are true

He starts to jerk me off

" I.. I am a football.... Jock

I ... Big.... Dumb

.. football....

Yeah...

I am a football jock,

.... Hee I AM A FOOTBALL JOCK BROOOOO

And within 4 jerks i cum

I cum all over, me, coach, the floor,

Ropes of cum spew for minutes as I lay there a drooling sweety dumb mess of a jock

Jason comes in with a full football kit, he's happy at what the sees

" Yoo coach, u did great"

"Jason help your bro get changed, practice is soon'

"right"

Jason comes over to me and starts to dress me.

"sup bro, what up"

As my mind clears i say

"broooooo what uppppp ,I guud brahhh that was amazing, thank you bro, thank you

"that's great bro! Anytime"

He helps he dresses in the kit, from the jock strap to the cleats and pads, all were tight and arousing .

"damnn broo I'm so horny now"

"bro same, let's help each other out after practice bro"

Yeah brooo

Once all ready, Jason gets changed and we wait

Coach comes in to check on us

"well look at you boys, ready for practice"

We say in unison

"yes coach" we laugh at that

"Aaron, come , i will need a picture of you"

"right"

I walk over to stand at a camera, my cleats clinking on the floor

"ready son? "

I nod

As the picture is taken, I'm filled with confidence

My jock fills with more pre and cum as I am

A football jock

Damn Im still so horny

Me, Jason and the team run onto the field for practice, coach bringing out caskets of beers for us at the end

"drink up boys, you earned it"

In the locker room it's a ogy of cum and beer after a good practice.

Beer, cum and football

Bro that's the life

_____________________________________________well... What do you guys think?

I think it's better, different but better

Damn if only it could happen to me

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cakexblankett · 3 months

Text

Character

Larissa Weems

Rating

Red

Words

1545

~•~

I was in trouble. In a lot of trouble.

Every month, the teachers of Nevermore were reunited by the principal to discuss how the lectures were going, if there were students who needed more help, if there were problems with a certain class, things like that. I had my material spread in front of me, trying to see if I needed help with something. I didn't, really, because the class was always active during my lecture, they listened when they had to, they talked when it was their turn to do so.

That day, before the reunion, my class took an exam on the topic tackled in the previous lectures. I had time to do whatever, so I started writing on a piece of paper a poem, the words kept coming and coming on their own accord, and my hand started moving on its own. My eyes shined, and a smile spread across my face. Nobody has to read this, I thought.

That's why, when the reunion finished and I was already in my room, I panicked not finding that piece of paper in the midst of my materials.

I was in trouble.

I was searching for it when I heard the ping! of my smartphone. Anxiously, still trying to remember where the Hell I had put that damned poem, I read the message.

Larissa:

Come to my office, we have a matter to discuss.

09:30 PM

I started sweating, what could possibly want the principal to talk about with me? Unless...

I shook my head, hoping it wasn't as I feared it was.

I closed my room door, and sighed. It was probably something to do with the reunion that we had before, nothing more.

All the way to her office, I fidgeted with my fingers, nervously. Once arrived, I knocked two times.

"Come in."

I gulped, opening the immense door before me.

"Please, do take a seat."

I closed the door and went to take a seat. She was seated on her chair, her hands playing with a piece of paper. Wait, a piece of paper!?

"I think you know why I called you here, don't you?"

My eyes went wide. I started moving my hands in the air, trying to come up with an excuse good enough for that poem.

"I-I... you see, it's not as it may appear to be, just-"

She raised a finger, shushing me.

"I think it's exactly as it appears to be. I mean, you made it very explicit."

I blushed.

The poem was, in fact, a collection of my wet dreams I had of the woman seated in front of me. And of course she had to read it.

"Do you have this... dreams, often?"

"No! Well, I mean... yes, but-"

She smiled, her lips stretching. I was mesmerised. I wanted to see her smile every day.

"You don't have to be all shy, now."

She got up, towering over me. Our height difference made everything she did more exciting. She could just stay still for an hour, it only took for me to look up at her and something would start moving in my chest.

She kneeled in front of me.

"What...?"

Her hands were on my thighs, I felt like they were on fire.

"Why don't you tell me what else you dream about? What do you want me to do to your pretty body?"

I felt a hot feeling in my lower abdomen, and wet in a place I wish she would just touch already. The mix of her low voice and her british accent made her so sensual.

"I-I don't understand..."

"Hm I'm sure you do, little pet."

Pet. I loved when she called me pet names.

"Now, why don't we start by undressing you, hm?"

She slowly started unbuttoning my blouse, biting her lip. I bit my lip to prevent a moan escaping. Just the sight of her kneeled like that, in between my legs, could have made me climax.

My blouse soon found its place on the floor. She licked her lips and looked at me.

"Would you like to be kissed?"

"Why are you asking?"

She shrugged, keeping her eyes on me.

"You didn't write it on your poem. Not once, there was not a single kiss."

She was so cute, asking for my permission. I smiled, getting closer to her.

"I would love for you to kiss me."

She smirked and kissed me. Her lips were soft, and she tasted like wine. She was probably drinking before I came in. Her tongue met mine in a passionate dance. I moaned when I felt her hand cupping my breast. She moved away, interrupting the kiss. She started trailing kisses on my neck, moving lower and lower. I closed my eyes, feeling the softness of her skin on mine.

"Let's get rid of this, shall we?"

She smirked, unclasping my bra. She stared at my chest for some seconds, and I blushed. Being so naked in front of the woman I litteraly loved was embarassing, to say the least.

"You are beautiful, Y/N."

I opened my mouth but she didn't give me time to day anything because she kissed me right away. Her fingers pinched my nipple, playing with it. She licked from my neck to my breast, taking in her mouth my other nipple, sucking it and swirling it with her tongue.

I moaned. She was so good at this, I wondered how many times she did it.

"Get up."

I immediately obeyed. She remained in her kneeling position. Even so, she was tall enough to unzip my jeans. She threw them away with my panties, which were soaked. She made me sit again, making sure I was comfortable.

She licked my vagina, moaning at the taste. I gasped at the sensation of her tongue on my most sensitive part.

"Hm so wet, all for me. Good girl."

I let out a moan at the name. She smirked, looking at me.

"Tell me what you want."

She was enjoying this as much as I was enjoying it, which was a lot.

"Please, I need you to keep doing it."

"Keep doing what, my love?"

Her hands were on my thighs again, spreading them apart.

"Lick me, please."

I pleaded. She hummed in approval, and she immediately started licking and sucking my bundle of nerves. Her grip on my thighs was strong.

"Ah just like that..."

Her eyes were fixed on mine, and at that sight, her face buried in between my legs, with her watching my expressions, I felt a jolt of electricity run in my veins. It didn't take long for me to arrive at my limit.

"Oh I'm so close..."

And then she stopped. I let out a whimper at the loss of contact.

"Wha- why?"

I asked. She giggled, getting up.

"Hush, my love. I want you to make mommy feel good too, don't you want that?"

I nodded.

"Yes, yes! I want mommy to feel good too!"

She smirked, lifting up her dress. She got rid of her panties and came closer.

"Is it ok if I shapeshift?"

I looked at her. Why would she do that?

"But I want to see you as you."

She giggled, cupping my cheek.

"I don't want to change my appearence, just... a certain part of my body."

I looked her inquiringly. She looked down and I followed her gaze. Then it hit me.

"Only if you feel comfortable."

She added. I nodded, eagerly. I was a lesbian, but strangely, the thought of getting penetrated by Larissa didn't disgust me.

"Good little girl."

Soon, she spread my legs and put the tip in. I looked at it, and couldn't fathom how it would ever enter all in me.

"I fear it's too big..."

"Don't worry, I will make sure to make you and I both feel good."

I gulped, feeling it enter me bit by bit. I stang, but Larissa's hand soon found her place on my clitoris, doing circular motions to tone down the pain.

"Hm you feel so good."

She moaned once it was all in. She started moving inside of me slowly, in and out, in and out. Her hand playing with my clitoris.

"You're so tight and warm, you're making mommy feel so good."

Our moans resonated in unison in the office, her movements getting faster and faster.

"Hm you're making me come."

"Please, I'm so close too..."

Her hands were on my sides, slamming into me with loud and lewd noises. Her moans were low and hearing them made me feel stars.

"Come, come with me, love."

It was enough for me to climax. Her legs shook, just like mine did. It washed over me like a riptide, and I could tell Larissa enjoyed it too from the look of pure bliss she had.

She got it out and it inmediately disappeared. She kissed me, with love and passion.

"We could have had this much fun sooner if you would have let me know your feelings."

"Well, now you know."

She hummed, while helping me on my feet.

"Maybe we could see eachother more often."

I smiled, hugging her.

"I would love that."

#fanfiction #ff #lesbian #actress #gay #gwendoline christie #gwendoline #christie #wednesday #larissa weems #larissa x reader #gwendoline christie x reader #larissa weems x reader

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sluttywoozi · 2 years

Text

Beautiful Day, Sunday Morning | sleepover fic #3

special thanks to my bestie @sluttywonwoo for this gorgeous banner!

Pairing: Joshua x fem!reader

Prompt: okay so sleeping it off didn't work. let me consult my list. hypnotism, no. meditation, certainly not. well something has to work because I simply cannot be in love with them + friends to lovers request

Rating: M (MINORS DNI I’LL SCREAM SO LOUD AND BLOCK YOU)

Word Count: ~7000 (im not well)

Warnings: food cooking and eating, alcohol drinking, hurt/comfort (just a tad its me lbr), presex communication, panty stuffing but not really (you’ll see), fingering, pussy eating, josh cums on you, joshua likes to look, mentions of marks/bruises, loving respectful manhandling, reader has a WAP, aftercare, none of these are in order, i wrote this for like 9 hours straight and haven’t edited it yet bc its four am soooooo sorry bout that, if i missed anything message or inbox me im nice i swear

half of this is just story with some suggestiveness, so if you're not into sex you can still enjoy! it's p obvious when the smut starts

Joshua sighs, finding himself laying awake in bed for the third night in a row.

He’s seriously starting to feel like he’s going crazy, and the sleep deprivation surely isn’t helping, but there’s just no way. He absolutely refuses to accept this.

He’s tried everything he could think of.

Sleeping it off didn’t work, obviously. He meditated with Hao for hours on end, with no result. He let Soonyoung try to hypnotize him but all he got from that was a headache and a bruise on the cheek where the stopwatch swung into his face.

Joshua won’t give up though, can’t give up, because this is life or death. Something has to work and Joshua is willing to try anything, well, almost anything, if it means what he fears will be proven false.

He simply cannot be in love with you. He just can’t.

Not when your friendship is the most valuable of them all, not when your presence is like a hot salted caramel mocha on a blisteringly cold morning, not when you’re the person he always looks forward to seeing, the person he dreads leaving for even a day.

Sure, he sometimes thinks about you late at night, when he’s alone in bed. Sure, he turns people down at bars his friends dragged him to for the sole purpose of getting him laid, just because he likes your voice and your face and your soul and your body better. Sure, he often dreams of you and wakes up feeling lonely, passing his hand over the empty side of the bed and wishing you were there. Sure, the side he leaves empty is coincidentally the same side he knows you sleep on, but that doesn’t mean-

Oh. Wait.

Joshua is totally in love with you.

Well, what the fuck is he supposed to do now?

He lets himself thrash in bed a bit, digging the back of his head into the pillow and tensing his jaw, then takes a deep breath, moving out of tantrum mode and into solution mode.

Okay.

Option 1: Joshua avoids you for a while and hopes the feelings go away on their own.

He shakes his head, knowing immediately that won’t work because if he doesn’t text you for a day, you’ll just text him, and if he doesn’t respond, you’ll call, and he’ll pick up, because it’s you.

And then he’ll hear your voice and you might sound sad that he didn’t text you back and then he’ll be sad, and guilty, and desperate to make it up to you. Which will lead to him making you dinner and probably pushing you up against the counter and kissing you until he forgets about the pasta on the stove and then it’ll boil over and just be a huge mess, and Joshua hates messes.

Option 2: Joshua doesn’t avoid you, and hopes the feelings go away on their own.

No, that won’t work either, because being around you is what gave him these feelings in the first place and being around you will just make them worse. He’ll be able to look at you and touch you and listen to you and you’ll smile at him and squeeze his hand like you always do, and marvel at the size of it compared to yours, and then Joshua will only be able to think about crawling on top of you on the couch and holding your hands down with his and they’ll look so small and you’ll-

Joshua clears his throat, shifting his legs in the sheets and willing his mind to settle down.

Option 3: Joshua doesn’t avoid you, and doesn’t hope the feelings go away.

This option is intriguing, because it means Joshua will still get to be around you and he won’t have to shove anything down, like he’s apparently been doing for… fuck, has he been in love with you this whole time? Has it been literal years??

Joshua shoots straight up in bed, bracing himself on his hands and blinking the drowsiness away. His brows furrow as he thinks over every moment he’s ever shared with you, every time he’s caught himself staring at your lips or holding your hand or getting jealous of a date or glaring at one of his friends for flirting with you. It’s been so obvious, and he had no clue.

Has it been this obvious to everyone?

Shit. Has it been this obvious to you?

Joshua needs a second opinion, and doesn’t think twice about grabbing his phone and calling for backup.

Jeonghan sounds irritated and exhausted when he picks up on the fifth ring, and Joshua sucks in a deep breath before starting, “Jeonghan, I need you to be honest with me, this is very important. Did you know I’m in love with y/n?”

“Yeah, Shua, we all knew.”

Joshua swears to himself, it’s just like he feared.

“And when you say ‘we all-’”

“No, y/n doesn’t know,” Jeonghan groans with exasperation, “but if you don’t say it soon, I will. It’s fucking annoying watching you guys moon over each other all the time. And don’t even get me started on-”

“Wait. Each other?” Joshua holds his breath as he waits for confirmation, “Jeonghan, I need clarification on the ‘each other’ part.”

Jeonghan heaves a sigh before answering, like he’s millimeters from hiring an assassin.

“Yes, Joshua, each other. I’m hanging up now.”

“Jeonghan wait-” Joshua tries to get out, but he hears the dial tone and checks his messages to see Jeonghan has put him on do not disturb. That was that then.

Okay, Joshua can deal with this. He can figure it out, Joshua is good at figuring things out.

He shakes his head and pushes a breath out before biting his lip to stop the smile.

Each other. He can work with that.

“Joshie!” You throw open the door, beaming and grabbing his hand to pull him inside you-r apartment! Inside your apartment.

Joshua dramatically rolls his eyes, hiding his grin behind a smirk, and sighs out, “Not this again…” as if he’s not giggling on the inside at the way you’re tugging him to the kitchen.

“Please, you love when I call you Joshie and we both know it,” you respond with playful eyes and your own smirk.

Fuck, he sucks in a breath, how did he deal with your teasing before figuring out he’s in love with you? Because now, it’s just making him ha-

“So, I was thinking we could try out a new pasta recipe I saw on Instagram, it has tomatoes and goat cheese and garlic, and I got a new puzzle!”

You sound so cute, so excited, that Josh has to clear his throat and try to blink away the hearts in his eyes before he can even think of what to say.

“That sounds great! I hope a red will go with it?” Josh holds up the wine bottle with a hand that shakes only a little, the other still caught in yours, and tries to stop his mind from going to the events of Option 1.

It’s difficult though, when he spots the exact pot he envisioned on the stove, already filled with salted water and waiting to be boiled.

You squeeze his hand before detaching to grab the bottle from him and throw it in the chiller, and Joshua respectfully (and frankly, for his own survival) looks away from how your jeans mold perfectly to the shape of your ass when you crouch down to find room.

He does well enough while you’re cooking together, moving around each other in a dance that evidences years of practice, getting distracted only when you lean up over his shoulder to monitor his garlic chopping. You’re very particular about how your garlic is cut, and it was only recently you began allowing him the responsibility.

Joshua can admit now how much it meant to him when you passed him the knife with a trusting smile and eyes that screamed, don’t fuck this up, just a few months ago.

Managing to finish the garlic preparation with relative ease, Joshua starts looking around for the recipe you were talking about. Normally, you print it out and put it up on your fridge but the stainless steel is empty, except for the magnetic photo of him and you he bought you last year. Well, him and you and all of your friends, not that he’s looking at any of them.

No, Joshua only has eyes for you, and they follow you as you flit around your kitchen, sunlight catching on your hair and cheekbones, your hips swaying softly to the music flowing from your sound bar.

He’s forgotten what he was looking for, and he’s forgotten to pretend he wasn’t drinking in your every move, because you turn around and stop short, eyes wide at finding him staring at you so intently.

“Do you need something?” You ask, brows tilting up in confusion.

Joshua breathes in deeply, catching your perfume on the air amidst the roasting tomatoes and fresh garlic, and he shakes his head with a soft smile.

“No, I have everything I need,” you start to look more bemused, like you’re trying to figure him out, and Joshua rushes to finish, “except the recipe! Where’d you put it?”

“Oh!” You jump, running to the couch to grab your phone and pull up Instagram, “It’s just a video, it seemed simple enough so I was doing it from memory but I should’ve sent it to you, my bad!”

Your brows furrow as you start typing in his new handle, and Joshua stills your fingers with his, deciding he can afford to be just a tad more bold.

“My phone’s almost dead, actually. Could we just share yours?” Joshua tries to ask innocently, masking his ulterior motive of getting to be closer to you.

“Yeah, of course! Do you wanna charge your phone? I can go plug it in,” you offer helpfully, gesturing over your shoulder to your bedroom, but Joshua shakes his head.

“Nah, the only person whose texts I care about is here,” he says smoothly, locking his eyes with yours and reminding himself that Jeonghan said each other.

You hold his gaze, something he doesn’t recognize flashing through your eyes and your mouth scrunching to the side, like it does when you’re… hurt. You visibly shake it off though, shake him off, pulling away and turning to set the pot of water to boil.

Joshua can’t fight the frown, feeling distance between you and him that normally isn’t there, but he lets you take your space and works on figuring out what he’s done wrong. He can barely hear the simmering of the tomatoes and goat cheese in the oven over the roaring in his ears, as he takes in your tense shoulders and stiff posture from the other side of the counter. When he sees your ribs expand and then hitch, like you were trying to gather yourself, he decides you’ve had enough space.

So Joshua crosses the kitchen, laying a gentle, warm hand on your shoulder, and tries peeking at your face. You’re not crying, thankfully, but he can see your teeth gnawing at your lip and the fragile set of your brows, and he pulls you into his chest, wrapping you up tight in his arms.

“What’s wrong?” He breathes into your hair, tucking your head into his neck with the softest push he can manage.

Joshua waits as patiently as he can, but when the water comes to a boil and you still haven’t answered, he pulls away to add the penne and then leans against the counter, staring at you.

“Baby, please tell me what just happened. Did I say something wrong?” Joshua has called you baby since he met you, it’s just instinct by now, but it felt different now that he knows he’s in love with you. It felt… right.

But it just makes you tense up more, and now Joshua is more confused than ever. You’ve never cared about him calling you baby, you went with it from the start, and even started calling him Joshie in return.

“Shua… I just-”

“Joshie,” He interrupts, feeling his heart leap into his throat at the change in nickname. All of your friends call him Shua, you’re the only one he allows to call him Joshie, and he can’t stand hearing the alternative from you.

Joshua can feel his own brows pinching together, his arms coming up to cross over his chest, like that could protect him somehow.

You mirror him, bracing yourself against the stove before he lets a hand down to tug you away from the steaming pot of water, and he uses that hand to pull you closer, finding that he can’t make himself let go.

You’re staring at him now, and you seem to be considering something. He can tell by the set of your shoulders that you’re weighing things, and hears Jeonghan’s voice say each other in his head. And somehow, he knows that you and him are on the precipice of something.

Something great, Joshua hopes.

So he takes in another breath and takes a few short steps to stand in front of you, delicately framing your face in his hands and leaning in close. He stops just short of your lips, feeling the catch in your breath this time, and exhales against you, “Tell me to stop. Tell me this isn’t what you want.”

You don’t say anything, just stare deeply into his eyes, like you’re searching for something. You must find it, because you close the distance to press your lips against his, and Joshua feels something unlock in his chest and make extra space for you.

Joshua’s mind doesn’t wander too far, not with your mouth on his and your body heat against him, and he slides one hand into your hair. The other moves down to mold to your neck, his thumb tracing the edge of your jaw before resting on your pulse. He can feel your heart racing, sprinting just like his, and he drinks you in, sipping from your lips like you’re the finest wine he’s ever had.

He gets carried away quickly, turning with you in his arms to push you against the counter, sliding his tongue along your bottom lip, practically begging you to open up for him.

You do, with a sigh, and Joshua slips his tongue into your mouth to glide against yours. You taste… like nothing he’s ever had and he’s desperate for more already, tugging your mouth open further with a thumb on your chin. He licks into you, brushing up against your hard palate, sucking your tongue into his mouth, his moan vibrating against your lips. You swallow it, responding with a whimper, and Joshua’s hips kick into yours. He can feel himself getting harder, feel the heat gathering in his gut, and the hand in your hair drifts down to take your hip in a firm grip, kneading at your plush skin.

Joshua’s about to bring his other hand down and lift you up onto the countertop, dreaming already of spreading your thighs and grinding against you, pulling your jeans down, spreading you with his fingers and licking you open before slipping his cock inside where he just knows you’re wet and hot and soft and perfect, but you pull away.

You pull away, and Joshua tries desperately to follow you, but you breathe a laugh against his lips and push him from you with a hand to his chest.

He can feel his eyebrows furrowing, knows he’s panting and probably looking slightly undignified, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is why you stopped kissing him and how to get you to start kissing him again.

“Too fast?” He asks nervously, hands squeezing at your hips without his permission, and he consciously loosens his grip so you can fully pull away if you so choose.

“No, Joshie, you’re perfect, it’s just-” you pause to catch your breath. “The pasta’s about to boil over and the timer’s been going off for like three minutes.”

His head whips around, seeing your microwave beeping and the water jumping out of the pot, penne far too close to the surface for comfort. He moves with you in tandem, you turning the burner down and shutting off the timer, Joshua grabbing a colander from the cabinet and draining the pasta in the sink. Turning to toss you oven mitts right before you open the oven, he remembers his prediction of Option 1 and can’t hold in the laugh.

The sizzling of the olive oil and roasted tomatoes covers the chuckle escaping him, and Joshua moves behind you to wrap his arms around your waist and set his chin on your shoulder, smooching the side of your head. Your skilled hands mash the mixture together and pour in a bit of the pasta water he’d remembered to reserve (thank God), the sauce coming together quickly. He detaches from you only when you ask him to bring over the pasta, and he carefully tilts the penne into the dutch oven as you stir, the scent of garlic and goat cheese and robust San Marzanos filling the air.

Joshua had been so wrapped up in you, he didn’t even notice he was hungry, but as he feels his stomach growl, he still can’t say he cares much about eating right now. Food, that is.

You’re adorably excited though, beaming at him with bright eyes and spinning on your toes to retrieve the wine he brought, so he turns and lifts your favorite bowls down from the cabinet, grabbing two sets of silverware along the way. You meet him at your dining table, grinning and setting down the fresh grated parm, and Joshua can feel his throat close a little as he imagines doing this with you each and every night.

The pasta was delicious, recipe bookmarked in your phone and already sent to Mingyu and Seokmin, and he washes dishes with you side by side. The cleaning goes quickly, barring the wine glasses you’re both still drinking from, but Joshua plucks yours from your hand just before you pour another glass and backs you up against the sink.

“Joshua, we always finish the wine,” your tone and the use of his full name betrays your befuddlement, but he won’t be swayed.

“Baby,” Joshua pauses to follow the shiver that runs down your spine with his hand, gaze tinted with want and fondness, before continuing, “If we finish the wine, you’ll get tipsy. There are a lot of things I want to do to you tonight, and I can’t do 75% of them if you’re out of it.”

Your eyes grow wide, lashes fluttering, and you nibble at the inside of your lip. It’s a bad habit of yours, and you’ve complained to him before of the sore spots that result sometimes, so he takes the opportunity to smooth his thumb over your lip and gently tug it free. Leaning in to slide his tongue along the seam of your mouth, Joshua breathes softly against you and waits.

You huff, and surge forward to capture his lips with yours, your hands flying up to curl around his neck and pull him closer. Joshua giggles into your kiss, squeezing his hands around yours before moving them to your hips to haul you up against him so you can feel how hard he is for you, already. You press back, and his giggles melt into a groan at the feeling of your body against his. He’s wondering if you’ll let him fuck you on your counter, but you cook a lot and you’ll probably think it’s unsanitary. Joshua considers the dining table next, but doubts it’s sturdy enough for all of his plans, and the couch is just unacceptable, there’s not nearly enough room.

You make the decision for him, pushing against his hips with your own and sliding your hands in his hair to physically pull his lips from yours. He pouts, letting you tug him away but also letting his cock press against you when the pull makes his hips buck.

“Let’s go, then,” you whine urgently, trying to move forward, but the pressure’s made Joshua’s brain fuzzy and he has no clue what you’re talking about.

“Go where?” Joshua asks, panting against you before shaking his head in an attempt to clear it.

“Go to bed, babe, let’s go to the bed,” you set your hands on his chest and push insistently, and Joshua’s nothing if not a gentleman, so it takes little thought to let you guide him to your bedroom.

What his lady wants, his lady gets.

Joshua can’t take his eyes off you as you whip your shirt over your head and toss it at the chair in the corner, but he gets his ass in gear when he sees your hands slide down your body to unbutton your jeans. He’s thought too much about undressing you to let you do it yourself, and his hands pull yours up to his abs, using the distraction to undo your jeans and start tugging them down.

He’s not as sneaky as he thought though, and blushes at your knowing smirk as he presses a kiss to your belly. But Joshua gets you back, with his fingers sliding under both sides of your panties to pull them up tight against you.

You’re wet already and Joshua’s vision tunnels as he stares at the damp spot between your legs, your folds outlined by the fabric with how taut he’s holding it. You squirm, but he’s not done looking, and he soothes you with fingers petting gently at the soft skin of your hips, taking you in for a few more seconds.

Joshua doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable though, figures you might need some time to get used to him in this setting, and he knows there’ll be plenty of nights (and mornings and afternoons) for him to look his fill. So tonight, he lets go of your panties and rises to take his shirt off, unbuckling his belt and dropping his pants to the floor. He can feel your eyes on him as he gathers up his clothes and your jeans, crossing the room to lay them on your chair before turning back to you with the corners of his lips quirked up.

He can sense your nervousness, and tries to figure out how to break the ice and remind you he’s your best friend. Smiling at you until his eyes squint, Joshua walks toward you slowly, then charges you when he’s a few feet away. You shriek and giggle when he leans down to wrap his arms around you and press the side of his face into your chest, tackling you onto your bed. Bouncing together, Joshua rolls until you’re sitting on him and he can feel your wet heat on his cock, seeping through his boxers and making his dick twitch. He swallows a groan, trying to maintain some semblance of composure, but he gives that up when you start rolling your hips against his.

“Baby,” Joshua moans out, pulling your hips harder against his. “Tell me what you like?”

He sets up a steady grind as you think, feeling you get wetter and wetter against his dick, but he can tell you’re getting distracted by the friction, and he needs to know what’s okay and what’s not okay before he takes you any further.

So, Joshua stills your hips with a firm grip and says your name with all the sternness he can muster when you’re practically soaking through his boxers.

You pout at him guiltily, petting his pecs in apology, “I like not being in charge. I like when you grab me like that, and I liked when you threw me on the bed.”

Joshua can feel the heat rush through him at your candor, rewards you with minute thrusts of his hips against yours, and confirms, “You want me to manhandle you a bit? Tell you what to do?”

You sigh at the thought, sagging against him and Joshua sits up against the headboard so you can brace yourself on his chest without having to lean down so far.

“Yeah, Joshie, I want that,” you breathe against his lips before pulling him into a kiss, and he can tell you’re trying to distract him to get out of talking more, but he can’t make himself care.

“We’ll talk more about this later, yeah?” Joshua asks, but you both know it’s not a question.

You nod into the kiss, sucking his tongue and starting to buck against him in a cute, needy way, and Joshua can’t hold off any longer.

He holds you gently by the back of your neck, wrapping the other arm around your waist, and you get the memo to stop moving just before he starts rising up on his knees. He spreads his thighs underneath yours, shifting up so you tilt backwards onto the bed until he can hold himself above you, unwinding his arm from your waist to hold your jaw in one hand. He presses one last kiss to your plush lips before pulling away to stare down at you.

Your eyes are hazy, your breasts heaving, and Joshua can see the strain in your thighs from how his knees are holding them open, putting the wet patch on your panties on full display. He smirks, smoothing one hand down your body to slide his thumb down your cunt, feeling your folds part further under the pressure.

You’re so wet, the fabric is practically translucent, and Josh is hypnotized by the glimpse of your cunt. He shuffles down to get a closer look, palm flat to your sternum when you try to follow him, and he can’t resist sinking his middle finger into you as deep as your panties allow. The fabric gives easily, stretching and following his finger inside to the first knuckle. You’re tight, even just with this, and Joshua knows he’ll have to open you up if you want his cock, revels in it.

Withdrawing his finger, he watches your cunt clench around the bit of fabric that remains inside, groaning out loud when he pulls and it comes out of you even wetter. He’ll have to buy you new panties, and maybe some bras, perhaps a set or two, and probably matching couples pajam-

You squirm, and Joshua looks up to check in, relaxing when he sees you’re just desperate for more. He decides he’s tortured you enough for one night, yanking your panties down, tossing them off the bed, and leaning in close to get his first look at your bare pussy.

You’re glistening, hips shifting against the sheets in anticipation, and Joshua’s already thrown one leg over his shoulder before he asks, “Can I eat you out?”

You nod before he’s finished talking, but you should know by now that you’ll have to tell him, so he just stares, flicking his eyes between yours and your pussy.

Your eyes roll skyward in embarrassment and agitation, the back of your head pushing into your pillow, and you force out, “Yes, you can, please do.”

“That’s all you had to say, baby,” Joshua responds, a touch condescendingly and more than a touch smug, lifting your other thigh onto his shoulder and smoothing his hands around your hips to hold your pelvis down.

His first taste has him opening his mouth wider, wishing he could swallow you whole, but for now he’ll content himself with pushing his tongue as far inside you as it can go. You’re soft, and so hot, and soaking wet, and immediately Joshua knows he’d do this every day, if you’d let him. Wake you up with his head between your thighs and put you to bed with his tongue inside you, if he could. Live and breathe and die in your pussy, if you’d allow it. He thinks you just might, with the way you’re trying to buck up against his hands, your eyes closed and breathy whines escaping your open mouth.

In the future, Joshua will make you keep your eyes on him, but for now, he couldn’t care less. All he cares about is getting as much of you in his mouth as he can and making you cum on his tongue as soon as you can take it. He’s relentless, sucking your clit into his mouth, laving over it, pinching it between his lips, getting you wetter and wetter until you’re drenching his face and the sheets. You’re still trying to grind against him, which is cute, honestly, but Joshua’s not letting you move, not unless you tell him to stop.

He shifts to band one arm across your stomach, digging his fingers into the fleshy part of your hip, anchoring you to the bed, and brings his hand to your cunt to slide one finger inside. You’re not as tight as before, and Joshua sighs against you in relief before starting to nudge another finger at your entrance, looking up at you and waiting for the breathy yes yes yes to sink it in next to the first. His fingers are big, much thicker and longer than yours, and you take a second to adjust. You’re already squeezing at them though, pussy trying to suck them in deeper, so he follows until his knuckles brush against you, and curls his fingers up when he bottoms out.

(He’s a bit too deep to get at your g-spot, but you enjoy the motion nonetheless and open your mouth to beg for more right when Joshua suctions his plush lips around your clit again and you’re almost almost almost-)

“Fuck, Joshie, please! Please, please, please I’m right there,” you whine, hands flying down to push his head into you, fingers tangling in his hair, and Joshua has to press his hips into the bed to get his cock to stop jumping. He knows he’s leaking precum, will have to change the sheets after he gets you in the bath, but you’re just so fucking hot, he can’t help it.

He does want to make you cum though, needs to, so he starts spreading his fingers, opening you up for a third, and sucks harder at your clit until you break, back arching, mouth open in a silent scream. He keeps going, fucking his fingers in and out of your sopping wet pussy and tonguing your clit in pulses, until you push his head again, away from you this time.

Joshua releases your clit from his mouth but keeps his fingers inside, spreading them wider against your throbbing walls, and asks, “Wanna go again?”

You stare at him with wet lashes, your breasts rising and falling with your breaths, and he’s almost distracted enough to move up your body and suck your nipples into his mouth, wonders if he can get both at once if he pushes your tits together enough, thinks about digging his fingers into the plushness, thinks about the bruises he could nip into them, but you respond and pull him from his thoughts.

“I think it might kill me, but yes,” you exhale, sounding tired but so needy still and Joshua loves you, he loves you so much, and he really hopes you don’t notice when he spells it on your clit with his tongue, followed by his name, then yours with Hong tacked onto the end. He doesn’t think you do, because you’re moaning, near crying with pleasure, and he hasn’t even started moving his fingers again yet.

Which he rectifies immediately, pushing them into you with more force this time, spreading you open and shoving his tongue inside to lick at your walls. The hand grasping your hip shifts, fingers moving to press down on your clit, rubbing small, quick circles. Your wetness is seeping out around his fingers, dripping into his mouth and down his chin onto the bed, and he knows he needs to make you cum soon if he doesn’t want to push you into the unpleasant kind of overstimulation.

He pulls his hand out slightly, and you cry out at the loss, trying to buck your hips up and get him deep again, until he finds your g-spot and grinds into it with the tips of his fingers. Hooking his digits inside of you, Joshua rubs incessantly at the rough patch, fucking into you and suctioning his lips around your clit until you clench so tight he doesn’t bother moving them, until you break apart with a wail. You gush, wetness flooding out and soaking the lower half of his face, and Joshua feels his eyes fluttering shut as he drinks you in.

Your thighs shake on his shoulders, your stomach trembling as you try to get air into your lungs, and his tongue laps at your clit until you push his head away again, for good this time. Joshua doesn’t go far, still breathing you in and feeling your cunt throb around his fingers.

Your hand pets at his head before it slips from his hair, flopping down onto the bed as your eyes close heavily. You’re not asleep, and you haven’t passed out (he thinks), so he just lets you catch your breath and wipes his face off with one hand, pulling the other from you slowly before shifting your thighs off his shoulders and sitting up on his knees between your splayed legs.

Joshua wants to put his hands on you, smooth them up your body to squeeze your tits then cradle your face, but he has other plans for the slickness leftover on his palms.

He tugs his boxers down with a pinky, cock bobbing out, and waits for your eyes to open before saying softly, “Baby, I’m not fucking you tonight,” you shoot him a sleepy frown, bottom lip pushing out just a bit before he continues. “But can I cum on your pussy? I’ll rinse you off and run a bath after.”

Your pupils get even bigger, nearly blocking out the color of your irises, and you smile serenely at him with bleary eyes, wrapping your hands underneath your thighs and pulling them up so you’re spread open for him.

Fuck, Joshua’s so fucking gone for you.

He can feel more precum seeping out of the head of his cock, feel how his boxers stick to his thighs from a combination of you and him, and he can feel the shudder roll all the way from his scalp to his toes at the first touch of his hand on his cock. His palm is slick, wet with you, and he stops himself from dipping back into your pussy for more, knowing you’re sensitive.

You’ve given Joshua more than enough to work with anyway, more than he used to get on those lonely nights where all he had was the thought of you, and as he takes in your still fluttering cunt, takes in the fuckdrunk look on your face, takes in the scent of your pussy on the air, he already knows he’s close.

His body doesn’t know yet, but it’s catching up quick. His stomach is tensing, his chest rapidly expanding with his panting, his balls tightening more and more the longer he gazes at you. Joshua can’t contain his sounds, lets the grunts and groans fall into the air, whining your name when he glides one palm over the head of his cock and squeezes down at the base with the other. He just needs a little bit more, just a li-

“Cum, Joshie, please cum, I wanna feel it,” you ask sweetly, urgently, and he swears, feeling his cock jump in his hands as hot cum spills out, painting your pussy white and dribbling down your folds. His hearing goes fuzzy, white noise filling his mind, and he clenches his eyes shut, cumming harder than he has in… years?

Joshua opens his eyes to see your entrance clench, tightening around nothing, and he barely resists the urge to drop back down onto his stomach and push his cum inside of you, fuck it into your cunt with his fingers and then fuck it deeper with his dick, stay buried in you until he’s hard and do it all over again.

But you’re tired, and he’s tired, and he catches your wince when you let your thighs down.

Joshua reaches over to snag a tissue from the box you keep next to your bed, and wipes his hands off before smoothing them up your thighs to knead at where your pelvis connects with your femurs. You had your legs open for a while, then up, and he doesn’t want you to be sore tomorrow, so he pulls back, lifting you into his arms and carrying you into the bathroom. He sets you down on the counter, starting the shower and wiping your pussy off gently with a damp washcloth before handing you a clip so you can get your hair out of the way.

“Can we take a bath tomorrow? I just wanna snuggle and go to bed,” you request, voice thick with sleep and raspy from the orgasms, and Joshua feels his heart swell. His teeth poke out of the smile he shines at you, and he gathers you up into a hug, rubbing your back and picking you up off the counter to walk you into the shower. He can feel your breath leave you in a contented sigh, and you lean your head against his chest as he spreads suds up your back, his hands drifting over your skin gently and massaging out any knots he finds.

You’re dozing against him when he drops to his knees to wash your lower half so he leans you against the shower wall, keeping one hand on your hip to make sure you don’t fall over. Making quick work of himself, Joshua shuts off the shower and wraps you up in a towel, patting his hands over your limbs to dry you off as much as he can. You’re a bit more awake now that you’re out of the heat of the water, and he dries himself off roughly before helping you tug your robe on and ushering your slightly shivering form into your bedroom. You’re walking fine, but Joshua keeps his hands on you anyway, doesn’t see a reason not to, and tries to pretend he’s not giddy at the thought of picking out your pajamas and falling asleep next to you.

He escorts you to the bench at the end of your bed, makes sure you’re sitting securely, and turns to your dresser to get something for you to sleep in.

“Just gimme your shirt,” you mumble, leaning back against your bed and pulling your knees to your chest, and Joshua short circuits for a second, imagining you in his clothes. It’s time to sleep, he chides himself, when he feels the blood rushing down to his dick, and speeds over to grab his tee from the chair. It’s huge on him, and he knows you’ll look adorable in it even before he tugs it over your head, and fuck, does he love being right.

He questions you about undies and follows your finger to the top drawer, pulling out the first pair his fingers touch so he doesn’t linger, and guides them up your legs. You stand and pull them the rest of the way on yourself, before climbing right up onto your bed and holding a hand out.

Joshua tries his best to keep his cool, but he’s just a little too excited to burrow under the covers with you, and your body rolls towards him when he hops into the bed. He pretends he planned it though, pretends he was continuing his bit from earlier, when he bodychecked you into the mattress, and he’s pretty sure he’s gotten away with it until you giggle and tap his nose.

He scoffs into the space between him and you, then pulls you closer until there’s none left, dropping a kiss on each of your cheeks, laying one on your forehead, and gently pressing his lips to yours as his final goodnight kiss.

“Oh!,” Joshua remembers, shifting up onto an elbow to stare down at you, “And in case it wasn’t obvious, I’m deeply, madly, embarrassingly in love with you.”

You blink up at him with exhausted eyes, smiling and placing a palm on his cheek to pull him down into one more kiss, before winking at him and whispering, “Same.”

You’re asleep before Joshua’s gotten over his disbelief, but he just grins, realizing it’s Saturday, and he’ll get to wake you up with his favorite song, crooned directly into your ear.

AN: im too sleepy to do a real an rn but whoever requested this ily so much and to all of my followers ily so much too and i'll see you tomorrow muah

tagging: @lenireads @confusedbansheee @junhui-recs @burningupp-replies @heeseung-lover686 @favehoshiposts @gyvswhore @jaysawake (unable to tag) @1004luvangel @bangchanbabygirlx @baldi-2 (unable to tag) @monamonay @dontyouthinkiknowwhoiam @just-here-to-read-01 @gaebestie

find my masterlist here

okay im gonna go to bed bye

#joshua smut #joshua x you #joshua x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen #✨emily writes✨#emily feels like she's going insane #emily is very tired #emily has hurt her own feelings #seventeen x you #✨emily's sleepover✨

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gabessquishytum · 5 months

Note

So Dream gets stuck engaged to Alex. He's not thrilled about it, but it's not like he has much of a say in the whole thing. Alex was the only person able to put up with Dream long enough to even propose, and if Dream wants access to his trust fund, he has to be married under his parent's blessing. Alex is too busy to be involved in the wedding, so Dream hires a wedding planner to help him and of course it's Hob. Hob was an inappropriately older crush Dream had in high school when he was a freshmen and Hob was a senior. Dream just pretends that it's not torture that everyone that meets them assumes that Hob is the other groom, or that Hob doesn't seemed turned off by Dream's personality. It gets worse whenever Alex says he'll come to the meeting, and he doesn't show. Hob is the one to comfort Dream on the car ride home. The night before the wedding, Dream all but says "I wish you were the one at the alter tomorrow," And Hob all but says "I wish I were too." But the rules are clear. Dream can't elope, and his parents would never approve of Hob who's never even had proper champagne. They sort of sit there holding hands in this "In another life" ritual. Well the actual wedding day arrives and just before the vows start, Alex has to take a work call and steps away from the alter. Everyone sighs knowing that they now have to sit there until Alex is done. But Dream's siblings all look at each other and nod and push Hob to the alter. apparently the Endless family isn't entirely stupid and the siblings all really like how happy Hob makes their brother, and the parents aren't thrilled about Hob not being high society, but he has enough money to make sure their son lives comfortably, so they're willing to over look it and bless the marriage. of course Alex's family tries to object to the marriage, but it's overruled. By the time Alex gets back from his work call, the wedding party is almost done with photos and Hob and Dream are happily married

I looooove a good wedding planner au. Plus Alex missing his own wedding?? Hilarious. As he should.

Just imagine the delight Dream feels as he gets to head off on his honeymoon. The one that he and Hob spent hours planning and selecting. The days in Paris, the trip down to the riviera, the boating cruise around the Mediterranean. Dream picked it all out with Hob in his mind: Hob at the top of the Eiffel tour, Hob eating crepes, Hob standing at the prow of a boat at sunset. And he gets to have it all, and be wrapped up in Hob’s arms. His phone is very firmly switched off so he doesn't even see the calls coming in from Alex and the rest of the Burgess family. Its absolute bliss from start to finish, even if Dream does come back with the tops of his ears sunburnt.

And Hob is like... walking on air. He can't believe that this is his life! He's meant to plan weddings, not have them! He never imagined that he'd be the kind of guy to have a husband. He's going around everywhere introducing Dream as "my husband" and finding every possible opportunity to talk about "my husband". He literally runs into Alex at one point and completely fails to recognise him (they barely met because Alex didn't show up to any meetings), and he's like "Oh sorry I'm in a hurry to get to my husband!!!" And Alex has to go through flashbacks to having his wedding stolen out from under him.

Of course Hob continues planning weddings, but none of them will match up to his own. He can't wait to plan their vow renewal, as soon as possible <3

#the sandman #dreamling

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vee-beeee · 6 months

Text

The Tent

Okay this is a change from dbh LOL

So im figuring out how to write for these characters, and its going to be harder because its 4 people so PLEASE forgive me.

Warnings: Tents, enclosed spaces with 4 boys

Chocobros x reader (can be taken as platonic)

Im sorry for any spelling errors or plot holess

SORRY IF THIS HAS BEEN DONE BEFORE

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You woke up

And then wished you didn't.

It smelt like sweaty socks and boys.

Someone had shoved your back into their front, and was snoring VERY loudly. Another person had his socks in your face, sprawled out over what looked to be Noctis himself. So the case of the smelly socks was solved, that had to be Prompto. You didn't see anyone else in your line of vision, but guessing at how strong and muscular the arm around you was...

Gladio had turned you into his own personal teddy bear.

You gently tried to roll out of his grip, but he grunted and held on to you with a stronger grasp. You sighed and searched for another way out, you need air and to be away from this tent.

You briefly wondered if tickling Prom would wake him up so he could help, but you didn't really want to touch his feet.

So you sat, starting at the tent walls and daring to breathe through your mouth.

You thought about falling asleep again but whenever you tried, Gladio's snoring woke you up just as you were on the cusp of the dream realm.

What a terrible way to start your morning.

Finally, FINALLY you heard someone stir. You turned your body as much as you could in Gladio's grip and saw Ignis's hair over a massive leg.

"Ignis!" you whisper-yelled, hoping to get his attention. He turned around, sleep very much apparent on his face, and looked the entirety of the tent until his eyes caught yours.

"Miss Y/N?" He mumbled, raising an eyebrow at your position, Gladio crowding your back and Proms feet in your face. You had also felt Noctis was really close to your knees, you could feel his hair whispering against your skin. It was ticklish and uncomfortable.

Ignis huffed out a laugh, and you proceeded to beg him to help you.

"Why of course, Dear Y/N. However, I believe Gladio is going to kill me in his sleep if I remove you from his hold. I can help with Prompto and Noct however."

You sighed, sad he wouldn't even TRY not to get killed by Gladio. You watched him as he harshly rolled Prompto off of Noctis, and you were briefly worried that he would awake.

He just snorted and continued sleeping.

Ignis next went to Noctis to gently move his head away from your leg. Of course, Noct slept like a corpse so he didn't even notice. You took your chance to thank him, and ask a favor

"Can you leave the tent flap open I need air please."

Ignis nodded, and exited the tent, leaving the flap open. You started to bask in fresh air and morning light, but then the world turned upside down.

Gladio was rolling over, treating your body like you were an actual teddy bear.

He was now slightly under you, both arms surrounding you with the literal strength of a Titan.

And you were suffocating in his chest.

In ANY other scenario you would have been like "nice" . But in this one you could not breathe. And that was a problem. So you started gently saying his name.

Gladio groaned, but stayed asleep. You tried wrestling your arms out from his iron grip, but no use.

So you did the only thing you could think of.

Loud enough for him to clearly hear you, you poked the bear

"Ooo this book of gladios looks so good, im going to read it while eating chips and wipe my fingers on the pages and fold the edges to mark where i am. Surely he wont mind"

Suddenly you were shoved as his eyes shot open and he released you, sitting up to look around huffing.

"NO THATS MY COLLECTORS EDITION!" you breathed and rolled over as he looked around and found his book by his belongings.

Then he turned to you, brows furrowed and irritation clear on his features for 1. being woken up and 2. having his most prized book threatened.

"What the hell was that for?"

You moved onto your back and stuck your tongue out at him

"You were suffocating me in your pecs, I had to get free some how"

His anger faded into an embarrassed smile, and then a smug smirk.

"A lot of girls would pay real money to get suffocated in these pecs."

You rolled your eyes as hard as you could and he let out a hardy laugh, which accidently woke Prompto.

He snorted as he awoke, leaning on his elbows before asking "uh whats slo funmny?" and then promptly fell flat on his face, going back to his dreamless sleep.

You and Gladio stayed quiet before looking at each other and chuckling quietly. Gladio winked at you and turned to leave the tent. You watched his huge shadow as it moved across the tent, and then it disappeared.

After a couple of minutes, you heard Gladio and Ignis in the camp talking, and saw an opportunity to get more sleep. So you found your original spot and comfy sleeping bag, and settled in.

(A couple hours later)

You woke up, blinking your eyes slowly, feeling that you had gotten a good rest. You looked around and saw the Prompto had seemingly left, and you didn't see anyone else so that must mean Noct left too.

You closed your eyes again, resting them for a moment before you felt something moving around your front. You jumped and accidently smacked your elbow against the something. And that something groaned.

You looked down to see a mess of black hair nuzzling into YOUR blanket.

"Noct?" You leaned on your elbows and he looked up at you sleepily before groaning out a response

"you have the good blankets."

and then he was gone. But luckily, you had help to wake him back up.

Ignis had heard your surprised yelp, and knew it was time for Noct to get up. He had been chatting with Gladio and Prompto about how to pay for more car renovations, but that conversation could be put on hold.

Ignis grabbed a pot and one of his spatulas, before leaning down into the tent flap.

And then he started hitting them repeatedly together.

He saw you cry out and put your hands over your ears, and Noct just sat up slowly and glared at him.

Ignis smirked and left the tent when he saw Noct leaving, and you followed shortly after.

You watched Iggy put his utensils away and you went straight for the middle of the circle of chairs you all had put together the night before. Noct had just slumped down his camping chair when you started talking.

"Why do you guys love piling on me so much when we sleep? Like I wake up and your all over me."

You stood stalk still and waited for a response. You heard groaning and looked over to see Noct open one eye and looking at you.

"Smell nice and warm"

and then he was asleep.

Ignis sighed and walked over to shake him awake and you turned to see Gladio and Prompto nodding their heads. Gladio was the first to say something.

"I think he's right. Your a little babe space heater." You flushed, and he and Prompto laughed seeing your face.

"Yeah and you uhh, kinda smell a lot like roses." was Proms response, and now you watched him go red. Gladio slapped him on the back and Ignis chuckled quietly, continuing to try and wake Noctis up.

So your consensus was to buy more blankets, and an air freshener.

Fair enough.

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THANKS FOR READING

I dont know if this is cringe or how I did, but I hope I did good on my first time writing these guys.

Hope you enjoyeddd

#final fantasy 15 #final fantasy series #chocobros #ffxv noctis #ffxv gladiolus #ffxv ignis #ffxv prompto #ffxv x reader

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cryptictongues · 3 months

Text

184 Days

pairing: Clive Rosfield x Flower!Reader Series rating: Mature (angst; tw listed below) word count: 13.6K summary: You have a hard time grieving after Clive's passing, even when you didn't need to grieve at all.

warnings: reader-insert (sorry lol), angst, hurt/comfort, reunions, grief/mourning, slight suicidal ideation, slight self-harm, depression, panic attacks, happy ending (yay!) - this is part of the Flower!Reader series! You don't need to have read the other two but there are references to them if that interests you.

Spoilers: This is post-game stuff. If you haven't played the game, beware.

TW's: This fic contains major themes of grief, so it is heavy. There is minor suicidal ideation and self-harm, not graphic in nature, but it is there. Depression and panic attacks are more common in this fic. If these topics don't sit right with you, please be cautious when reading. You may also reach out if you want to know specifics if you are worried!

Songs: I just want to share that I was constantly listening to When the Sun Hits by Slowdive, Thick Skull by Paramore, and Wicked Games by Chris Isaak.

LASTLY, I am sharing this on my birthday! My birthday gift to you all <3

[AO3 link]

Day 1

The Hideaway is full of people. People from all over Valisthea arrive in droves, coming to grant supplies, donate gil, and help around the Hideaway because today is the day; the day everyone here sends off Dion, Joshua, and Clive for their leave to Origin.

You are working overtime, helping with the final preparations before they take off. The biggest reason, however, for the hard work is the ever creeping anxiety filling your body as the time ticks closer to Clive’s departure; from his friends and family, and from you. This day has been a long time coming, yet now that it’s here you can barely stomach the thought of him leaving. With that thought lingering, every moment together has been even more precious than the next.

Every moment of free time has been spent together. With today being the day of departure, your last moments together were last night. You both made love all night, and in between sessions would talk about what you two will do once he comes back; creating the life of your dreams together. Yet, in the back of your mind, all you could think was those thoughts were just that: dreams. You don’t know what will happen during Clive’s mission. But it’s fun to play pretend, and to envision what life could have in store for the two of you.

The sun was in its golden state before its colors showed, telling you it’s almost time. You see everyone gathering on the main deck, Clive and co included, talking with one another as they say their farewells and safe travels. You start your way there, walking slowly as if it would prevent the inevitable. You know the moment you reach Clive, it would only be a matter of minutes before he is no longer within your grasp.

You see Clive talking to Jill, bringing her in for a tight hug as he continues. You see a shake in her shoulders, telling you she feels the same way you do. Just as hard as it is to wish your lover away, it must be just as hard to watch the man who has become a brother figure leave. They grew up together, after all.

You give a farewell to Prince Dion and Joshua once on the deck, giving Dion a firm handshake and a bow, while Joshua brings you in for a hug. You didn’t know Dion for long, but Joshua is a different story. Getting to know your lover’s brother has brought you closer to the both of them. Seeing how happy Clive was with Joshua around made your heart swell. You wonder if Joshua ever felt the same about you two.

Joshua let’s go of you, a melancholy smile drawn on his face. “Thank you, _____. Thank you for taking care of my brother.”

You shake your head. “No, thank you for finding each other again. I will be praying for the three of you to safely return to us.”

“I appreciate that, my lady.” Joshua thanks, yet his eyes shift, and he nods. “Here he comes.”

You turn to see Clive approaching you, and you already feel your chest growing tight and eyes water. He is standing before you, looking as beautiful as he always has, but with a sorrowful look that says everything you feel. It’s unfair, really. It devastates you that he is the one to stop all the madness, when in a perfect world he would stay. You keep telling yourself this isn’t the end, yet your gut keeps telling you otherwise.

“____.”

“Would it be selfish of me to ask you to stay? To ask to let the world go to hell?”

Clive smiles, solemnly chuckling at your suggestions. “Never.”

You reach for his left hand with both hands, holding it as you rub your thumbs into his palm. “I know it would be futile, all the same.” You utter. “There would be no life worth living for anyone. I just wish things could be different.”

“I am doing this for a better future for everyone. It is what the world deserves.” Clive’s other hand covers your hands in full. “I must do this, so you and I can live the future we’ve always talked about.”

“I wish I could take your place, so I could guarantee your safety.” You choke out, the waterworks starting.

Clive is quick to react, pulling you into him as you sob softly into his chest. “Knowing you will be safe here will be reason enough for me to make it back to you.” Your hands squeeze his sides, his statement making you want to sob harder. Clive pulls back, taking one hand to lift your head to get a good look at you. “I promise I will be back. Wait for me.”

You nod frantically, sniffling as you take deep breaths to calm down. Clive’s forehead leans against yours, his thumb brushing continuous strokes on your cheek, before pressing a gentle kiss against your lips. You accept his kiss, giving it your all knowing the outcome is unknown. Both of your lips linger, not wanting to pull away because once one of you does, he will be on his way.

Clive pulls away slightly, his lips still lingering near your own. “I love you, ____.”

“I love you too.” You whisper, placing one more kiss to his lips before pulling away. “I have something for you.”

You reach into the pouch you keep attached to your corset belt and pull out a lily. You thread the stem in between the crease of his corset and tunic, the tightness of his uniform keeping the flower in place. You brush his chest, stalling him a little longer before you accept it is time. “Lily represents reunion. With this flower, you shall come back to me.”

Clive sucks in a breath, releasing with a shutter as if he was on the verge of tears. “I will, no matter what.”

You feel a hand on your shoulder, and you turn to see Jill still sniffling with watery eyes. She smiles at you before looking at Clive. “We will take care of each other.”

You feel something rub against your thigh and look to see Torgal rubbing his head on you. You smile, rubbing behind his ears. “Torgal will look out for us too.”

Clive hums, appreciating the sight before him. “This is farewell for now. Till then, we have a god to kill.”

Everyone has now formed a semi-circle around the three dominants about to depart, watching as they walk towards the end of the deck. They pick up their pace, all of them running until they are no longer in sight. A bright light goes off and the next thing everyone sees is Bahamut carrying Clive and Joshua towards an event that will shape the world.

You are sitting on the main deck, legs dangling off the side as you continue to stare off into the horizon. You haven’t left since Clive left, the golden hour long gone and twilight having come and gone, dusk now settling in the sky. It feels like it has been hours since his departure, when in reality it has only been a few. You wonder if they have made it to Origin yet, if the battle has started, if Ultima has been defeated… if they have met their maker for good. That thought makes you shiver.

You hear footsteps coming from behind you before a presence sits right beside you. You don’t look, but the aura alone tells you it’s Jill and you smile slightly. She puts an arm around you, pulling you into her as you both continue to look into the distance, like they would be back any second. She twists your hair, which comforts you in a way, and you hum. It is silent for a while, watching the sky continue to grow darker and darker until the sky is black with its pearls.

“Have you prayed to Metia today?” You break the silence with a question. Jill’s fixation that Metia answers prayers is comforting in these moments, especially when every prayer she has spoken through her heart has come true.

She shakes her head. “I haven’t, but only because I wanted you to join me. Our hearts combined will help, no doubt.”

You nod your head, and you both move into a position that faces Metia herself, kneeling before her with hands clasped together. You bow your head, and say your prayer in your head, letting your heart translate it in a way that only Metia understands. You pray for everyone’s safe return with little to no injury. You pray they come back healthy and happy. You pray for the dawn of a new age where you and Clive help build a world you two can grow old in. You pray for everything to be okay. You raise your head as you finish, and you admit that some weight has been lifted off your chest, but an uneasiness still sticks. You turn your head to see Jill finishing her own prayer, and she looks towards you with her hand reaching for yours. You give her your right hand and she grips it with a smile. “Metia has listened to our prayers. Now, we wait.”

“Jill, your faith that everything will be okay is admirable. I wish I had your confidence.” You confess, the sour feeling remaining deep in your body.

“For the longest time, I thought Clive was long dead. I believed that Metia hadn’t listened. And next thing I know, there he is. Granted, it was years later.” She squeezes your hand, and turns so your knees are touching hers. “That’s why I have faith that they will return to us.”

“Maybe your faith will rub off on me, and not the other way around with my worries.” You chuckle, trying to make light of the night.

“No matter what happens,” Jill reassures, “I will be here for you. We will be here for each other.”

You nod, and bring her in for a hug, squeezing her tightly which she returns. “Thank you, Jill. For everything.”

You both stay there for a minute, until next thing you know you hear running on the deck. You pull away to see Gav running towards you two, panic clear on his face. “Ah fuck,” he breathes in and out as he approaches. “Edda is in labor. All hands on deck.”

You and Jill gasp in unison, both jumping up to run to the infirmary to help bring new life into this world. And hopefully, a new one.

Day 2

“Alright, one more push, Edda.”

You are sitting behind Edda, letting her use your hands for her death grip as she continuously pushes and wails out in pain. You, Jill, and Mid are giving her words of encouragement as she continues her labor, and after one final push Tarja fully delivers the baby. A cry echoes throughout the room and the atmosphere is full of happiness and relief.

“Can I come in yet?” You hear Gav yell from the other side of the door.

“She just gave birth, Gav. Give us a minute.” Tarja yells, eyes rolling hard at Gav’s common sense.

“He’s just excited,” Jill chimes in. “As we all are.”

“Congratulations, Edda! It’s a boy!” Tarja finishes cleaning off the baby, kneeling beside Edda as she passes him off to her. You watch Edda admire her baby boy for the first time, her smile brightening up the room as she talks to him.

Seeing them interact stirs you with an emotion you wish to experience directly. You and Clive have talked about having children, making it clear you two wouldn’t have any until the world has been set straight. But you two would talk about what it would be like to have a little you or a little him running around or both. You imagine cradling a little boy in your arms, giggling as you shower him with kisses. You imagine Clive holding a little girl, swaying her around while singing a melody. Two giggly children to call your own with the man you have fallen madly in love with. You feel as if your heart could burst from the thought.

“_____, can you go up to the rear stacks to grab more towels off the lines?” Mid asks, taking you out of your sappy daydreams. You snap out of it, humming in the affirmative before moving away from Edda and heading to the door. You could barely get out the door before almost being trampled by Gav, running in like a mad man. “Let me see! Let me see!”

You chuckle to yourself, exiting the room and heading to the linen lines. Even when things seem dark, you can’t help but keep smiling at everyone’s high spirits tonight. You suppose new life being brought into the world will do that to people because it sure as hell is doing that for you. It’s a good distraction, and you accept it with open arms.

You grab some towels from the line, cradling them in your arms securely as you make your descent to the main deck and up the stairs to the infirmary. You reach the infirmary doors when you are once again almost hit by a body, except this time it was Jill. One quick look at her made it apparent she was crying. She doesn’t spare you a glance as she runs down the stairs, sobs fading as she goes further down. You turn to the open door, shock clear on your face. “What happened?”

Gav and Mid look at you like they don’t know what to say. You look at Gav, tears streaming down his face, and it’s like everything hits you all at once. Towels drop from your arms, your arms no longer working as your body starts to erupt. “No,” you shudder. “No.” You kept repeating yourself, not quite believing what’s happening. No words spoken, and yet everyone is saying your worst nightmare out loud.

You could see Gav wanted to say something, but before a word could break the glass box you were building around yourself, you ran. You ran right out the door, and ran as fast as you could to Clive’s chambers. You slam the door shut, starting to pace back and forth with your fists yanking your hair. You turn to the balcony doors, and run to them, slamming them wide open before looking out into the distance. You see the moon, as bright and big as ever, yet Metia no longer shines in its vibrancy. You hear a howl and see Torgal and Jill, Jill’s head tilted down as her body continues to shake. Jill’s connection with Metia was enough to tell you that something terrible has happened: Clive is dead.

You back away from the door, utter disbelief and pain seeping into your lungs. He promised. He promised he would return to me. Your mind keeps reeling, and next thing you know you find yourself in Clive’s bed, wrapping yourself in his covers tightly to encapsulate his lingering scent. Sobs devastate your body, almost to the point of not being able to breathe. But you embraced it, for you wish you could stop breathing all together in this moment.

You fall asleep with choked up airways and puffy eyes, dreams full of a future that’s no longer possible. You dream of him and him alone. You fall asleep in the dead of night, missing the sun greet Valisthea into a new era.

Day 5

Clive would’ve thought he was dead if it weren’t for the loud thumping in his head. He slowly comes to, the first thing he sees being light. It takes him a few seconds to adjust, his eyes working overtime against the strain. He feels sand, and hears the sound of waves. He goes to move his fingers when he notices he can’t move the ones on his left hand. He brings his left arm to his view and sees his hand is completely petrified. He couldn’t see the rest of his arm, but could feel the lack of blood and flesh ending right above his elbow. He pushes himself up with his good arm, hunching over in his spot as he breathes the salty air deeply.

Origin. He had defeated Ultima. The crystal in the sky was destroyed and now he finds himself here on this beach. Based on his surroundings, he concludes he is on the coast of Storm, even though the dark coast was no longer dark, but bright. It could have easily been mistaken for a coastline off of Valisthea, but behind him were still the dead brush of the continent.

He wonders how long he’s been out for. He vaguely remembers waking up, but not long enough to recollect anything. He reaches up to his face to touch his facial hair, feeling the scruff that has grown out slightly. A few days, he thinks. It was a mere few days ago when he left the Hideaway with Dion and his brother, and now he is the only one left. It burns him up inside knowing he couldn’t save them, and the fact he watched his brother die not once, but twice weighs heavy on his heart. Especially because if Ultima hadn’t chosen him as his vessel, he most likely would have become the Phoenix and Joshua would be alive and safe. He couldn’t be sure, of course, but alas.

Clive knows it does no good to think this way. Just like he would have done anything to save Joshua, he knows just as well Joshua would’ve done everything to save him. He knew Joshua would want him to help bring Valisthea and Storm into a new age. And most importantly, he knew Joshua wanted him to be happy, and deserved as much. I cannot delve into what was, but what can. And what he can focus on is the future, especially one with you.

Clive suddenly remembers the lily you had given him, and scrambles to retrieve it from his pant pouch with some difficulty due to one available hand. He felt its petals, still smooth and soft, and pulled it out to see it still looked brand new. He lets out a stuttered breath, eyes watering slightly. He almost couldn’t believe that after everything it had managed to stay in one piece, but he knew it was because you had blessed him with it. You had grown it, cared for it, and plucked it for him, and it was his turn to care for it. Just as well, it was time to keep his promise: to come back to you. He has been away for too long, and he must make haste now.

Clive sighs and slowly starts to stand up, gathering his bearings so as to not get too dizzy. He stands still for a moment, breathing in deeply once more to ensure he won’t collapse before assessing his situation. He will need a boat. He thinks he could find a port somewhere, and worse comes to worse he travels to Waloed to get one there. He will need to eat something to gain some semblance of energy to do said travel. The biggest obstacle for him will be his arm, a heavy weight on his body that doesn’t help his fatigue. He will have to find something to make it more manageable until he can get back to the Hideaway.

He starts to walk up the beach towards the woods; body heavy from his wet clothes, stone arm, and tired eyes. But he will move forward, for you are waiting back home for him and his safe return. No matter the cost, he will make it home to you.

“Darling, wait for me. I’m coming home.”

Day 14

It has been two weeks since the end of Origin, and to say you haven’t been grieving well is an understatement. You have a hard time getting out of bed these days, and your motivation to do anything is abysmal. You know your numbness is unsettling to other Hideaway members, many not knowing what to say when they see you. It’s like they saw you change overnight; your happy, go lucky self now tainted with expressionless reactions.

Gav has officially transitioned as the new Cid, but has yet to move into what will be his new room. He only comes in to do some paperwork, and read his latest messages. Oftentimes he will come to you, asking if he can get you anything, and he gets the same response from you every time: a subtle shake of your head. You are grateful that he lets you stay here as the smell of Clive’s sheets is the only thing keeping you from breaking all together.

You had forced yourself out of bed today to go to the Backyard. You sat beside the flower bed, staring at the flowers hoping for something to happen. Flowers were your comfort for a long time, and now it is like they have no effect at all. You look at the lilies that are off to the side, and all you can do is scoff. Reunion my foot.

You hear footsteps and paws coming down the stairs. You know it is Torgal and Jill, especially when Torgal has been stuck to Jill’s side for the last two weeks. You can’t blame him. You wouldn’t want to be around you either.

“You came to pay the flowers a visit. They’ve missed you.”

“They aren’t very good at showing it.” You shrug. You have been here for a few hours, and your mood hasn’t changed. You feel empty.

“Hortense is holding a sewing class for some new arrivals. You should come and say hi.” Jill says gently, not wanting to make your mood shift further south.

Deep down, you know you’ve let Jill down. You had promised to be there for her like she had with you, yet your own self pity refuses to acknowledge your lack of empathy. The demon residing in your brain just tells you that no one understands. It doesn’t matter if everyone is grieving about the three’s passing; your happy ending relied on your lover coming back to you. Everyone else can move on, keeping him in their memory. You can’t because a part of you is now dead with him.

You move to stand up, not wanting to bring her down with you. “They won’t want to see me. I’ll just make a fool out of myself.”

You move to head upstairs when Torgal blocks your walking route, and Jill gets in front of you. She grabs your shoulders, looking at you intently. You can see she is trying hard not to break in front of you, making that deep part of you scream to get over yourself. “Please, _____. You are an important asset to the Hideaway; the Jack of all Trades. I know they would love to meet you. The more kind people like you they meet, the more comfortable they will be here.”

Even since the end of Origin, new arrivals have continued to come in, many wanting to help with the cause. Even though bearers no longer have the power of magicks, it has led to more violence against those with the mark. This has led to everyone working more tirelessly to make strides for a future with new hope reinstated. You have yet to meet many of them, the motivation to do so never in your favor.

“Clive would want you to continue his legacy.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to scream how his legacy has taken him away from you. You know your way of thinking is irrational, but the rational part of you is a mountain ready to avalanche. With the last bit you have, you take a deep breath, knowing she is right. He would want you to continue living, even without him.

“Okay,” you nod. “I’ll meet them. I can’t promise I’ll come off as kind. Even if I wanted to, I don’t have the strength.”

Jill smiles, brushing hair from your face. “All I ask is that you try. We miss you.”

You three ascend the stairs, Jill locking arms with you as if you’d run away. You make it to the main deck, seeing Hortense and a few new faces sitting in a circle. Hortense waves, signaling you three to join in. “_____, it is so good for you to join us!”

“It’s, um, great to be here.” You say, trying to come off as happy.

You, Jill, and Torgal join the circle, quick introductions being passed around before Hortense starts her lesson. She is doing a lesson on basic sewing techniques using cross-stitching circles, showing everyone different patterns, styles, and methods for different types of fabrics. One of the new arrivals, Greta you remember her name being, was looking at your stitching constantly. You turn to look at her, and she quickly turns away. You look at her work, and you can tell she is struggling a little bit.

“Hey,” you say slightly above a whisper. “Try this.”

You show her a trick when it comes to tightening the thread, making it so it won’t want to fall apart. “Okay, now you try.”

Greta follows your method to a T, going slowly as she does it from memory. She smiles, seeing how well it worked. “That’s genius! Thank you so much!”

You nod, going back to your own work with a subtle smile on your face. You remember when you first learned how to sew, and how difficult it was for you. You remember when you had to learn on your own, Hortense having too much on her plate. You forgot how good it was to help others, and even if this feeling is for a moment, you feel lighter. You face Jill to see her glancing at you, a grin on her face as she continues messing with her circle of fabric. You know she is punching the air in success in her mind right now.

The session lasts for roughly an hour, and Hortense puts it to a close. “I’ll hold another class next week. Feel free to practice in the meantime.”

‘Yes ma'am’ is said in unison, and everyone departs to get ready for supper. You and Jill stay behind, helping Hortense put stuff away and create small chatter. As you all finish up, you pull Jill aside, feeling the need to say something. “Jill, I want to thank you. But most importantly, I want to apologize for not being there for you as well. I promise to do better by you.”

“Oh, _____,” Jill coos, bringing you in for a hug. “It’s okay. I understand your pain. We will get through this.”

You two continue like this, and all you can think is maybe this is a new start. Maybe you can start grieving in a better way than you have been. You know it won’t happen overnight, but after days of feeling like you’ve been dragged into a hole, you sense you can see the light.

Someone is yelling from afar, and you pull back to see a woman walking quickly to Hortense, a basket of what looks to be freshly clean linens in her hands. You and Jill walk over to see the commotion, only to see another new face. Hortense motions you two over, grinning from ear to ear with the woman beside her. “Ah, _____! I don’t think the two of you have met. This is Willow. She’s been helping me a lot with many of the laundry duties.”

“Oh Lady _____, it is so lovely to meet you.” Willow says, bowing her head slightly. “Also, lovely to see you again Lady Jill.”

You bow slightly, not used to such formalities towards yourself. Jill chimes in, glee in her tone. “You as well. Thank you for helping Hortense during this time. I know she surely appreciates it.”

“Of course!” Willow chirps. “I was coming over here to tell her the linens for the beds are done. Lady ____, I was able to clean your sheets as well so you will have a freshly made bed for tonight.”

You stop breathing, your ears deceiving you. “W-what?”

Willow was still smiling, not catching on to the atmospheric shift. “Your sheets! Hortense got me to get all the bed linens for a wash, but I went ahead and had your bed made as a good gesture.”

Your heart is hammering in your chest, and your vision is starting to blur. She cleaned the sheets. She cleaned Clives sheets. Not yours, but Clives. The one thing you had left of him, the one thing that still smelled like him, the one thing that made it feel like he wasn’t completely gone from the world, vanishing right before your eyes. You are starting to breathe hard, everything around you is no longer real. It is just you being thrown back into your suffocating glass box, and being thrown back into that dreaded hole. You can hear voices, but can’t distinguish what is being said. It’s when you feel a hand on your shoulder that the glass shatters, leaving you bloody in the dark, dank hole.

You collapse, the flood gates opening with shrieks and agonizing sobs. You are hitting the wood, small splinters digging into your fist as you continue. You didn’t care because no pain was more painful than what you are feeling right now. You hear running, and more commotion in the background.

“There is nothing to see here, take your leave.” It’s Gav. It fucking Gav.

“_____, please get up. What happened?”

“This is my fault.” Hortense says mortified. “I didn’t tell Willow that room was off limits.”

Your breathing is now rapid, sucking air and pushing it out because it isn’t enough. Arms wrap around you and you thrash around, yelling and screaming to let you go. “Get the fuck off of me!”

Gav has you upright and the rage you are now feeling bubbles out, turning into hitting his chest. “You are the only other person that goes in there, and you didn’t notice the fucking sheets were gone?! How could you let this happen?!”

“Please, _____. I just got back from Lostwing. I haven’t been there since early this morning.” Gav reasons, getting a grip on you with your arms secure so you wouldn’t do something you regret.

“That was all I had left of him.” You wail. “All I had was his scent and now it’s gone! It’s all fucking gone! He’s gone!”

“I got her from here. You three go have dinner.” Gav picks you up bridal style, walking up the main deck stairs. You are still crying, and your vision is blurry but you can still make out what is behind you. Willow is hugging Hortense, both visibly upset. But then you see Jill, who is standing there looking at the ground, none moving. Torgal is nudging her, but she won’t budge.

I’m sorry, Jill. I broke my promise.

Day 31

One month. It has been one month since Clive’s death, and you are no longer alive; a living corpse that lays in bed for days and days on end. You only get up to use the privy chambers, but other than that you lay there. Nothing is enjoyable anymore. The idea of going to the Backyard, to the Shelves, or even the Ale House is unappealing. Gav usually brings you food, sometimes Jill, but you barely touch it. You eat a little, but your appetite is non-existent; you eat only when your stomach tells you to.

People don’t visit you like they did. Sometimes Jill, Tarja, and even Jote would come in for a short time. They would try talking to you, they would rub your side to bring comfort, they would brush your hair, yet you wouldn’t react. Those visits have slowly dissipated, and you can’t blame them.

You hate what Clive’s passing has turned you into. You never thought grief would transform you so poorly. Grief isn’t new to you, just as it isn’t new for most people in the realm. You grieved when your parents passed, you grieved when Hideaway members didn’t return from missions, you grieved when Titan and his Dhalmekian goons killed so many innocent people in the Old Hideaway. But Clive is your one true love; the one man that was able to intertwine his soul with yours. They say once the soul has been torn into two, it never fully recovers.

You get up from the bed with all the strength you can muster. As you stand, you face the mirror from across the room, and what you see makes you shutter. You walk over slowly, not quite believing that it is you in the reflection. Your fingertips drag along the cool surface, slightly dissociating in the process. What was once full and bright features were now hollowed from lack of sleep, crying, lack of appetite, and the grief that’s swallowing you.

“By the Founder, I look dreadful.”

You want to heal. You want to get better. Your soul is waiting for your shell of a body to hatch, so it may continue to live. But how can you do that in a place where everywhere you look, you see him? Every corner of the Hideaway is covered with Clive’s aspirations, dreams, and ideas. If you want to move on, to grieve healthily, you can’t stay here. You need to be somewhere that takes you back to a time before Clive.

The moon shines brightly in the room, giving you enough light to maneuver around. You pack a small bag of your belongings, only with things that would benefit your travels, and dress yourself in clothes to protect you from the elements. Once situated, you walk over to what was once Clive’s desk and sit down. You grab the quill and a scroll, and look at the blank paper. Your eyes start to water, knowing this decision will ruffle some feathers, and will create a form of worry you won’t be here to satiate. You think about getting back into bed and forgetting about what you are about to do, but you know this is a must. You are holding everyone in the Hideaway back, and you can’t support the cause if you aren’t getting better.

You must do this, so therefore you write.

“What do you mean she left?” Jill raises her voice, the shock clear in her tone.

Gav had come into Clive’s old chambers to send some letters out to town leaders when he saw the bed was empty and made, with a scroll lying on top of the pillow. When Gav opened it, and read the words on the page, he immediately called for an urgent meeting with the main Hideaway members.

“She left this on the bed.” Gav states solemnly, passing it to Otto who is on his right. “Long story short, she doesn’t want to be found. She didn’t give a direct location to where she was heading. All she said is she will send word when she is ready to communicate.”

“She isn’t in the right state of mind to go out by herself!” Tarja says with irritation. “What is she thinking?!”

“How would she have even left? We only have one boat, no?” Tomes questions.

“We have a second boat in case the one Obolus uses is in need of repair.” Otto mutters, looking at the scroll a tad longer before passing it off to the next person.

Jill stands up from her seat, huffing as she turns to take her leave. Gav stands with her, already reading her mind. “Where the bloody fuck you think you’re going?!

“Rather than us wasting our breath, I’m going to go find her!” Jill shouts, frustration built into her face.

Tarja stands up quickly to grab Jill’s arm. “Now wait a damn second. We need a plan before we start going out willy nilly.”

“As you said, she isn’t in the right mindset to be out by herself. She could be dead in a ditch for all we know.” Jill seethes, pissed that nobody seems to be as fearful for her friend as she is.

“She is strong, Jill.”

Everyone turns to Jote, who is never one to chime in unless need be. She is holding the scroll, looking at it as she speaks. “I don’t know her as well as you all may, but from what I do know she is very resilient. She wouldn’t leave unless necessary, and this letter proves as much.”

Everyone is quiet, thinking caps on as they process Jote’s words. The first words spoken after the pregnant silence is Otto, turning to Gav seriously. “Gav, you are the leader of the Hideaway now. It is your call.”

Gav ponders for a moment, a bit torn of what action is best to take. You are family and he wants to know you are safe. He also doesn’t want to get in the way of what you need to do to get better. He fears sending Hideaway members out to find you will make things worse.

“I think,” Gav pauses, sighing in the process. “I will alert town leaders around Valisthea to keep their eyes peeled for her. If she doesn’t want to be bothered, we shouldn’t intrude. Getting a location on her though would be beneficial for us to ensure she is at least safe.”

“Gav is right,” Otto agrees. “She will need to go into towns for essentials and will probably pass through a few.”

“If we don’t hear anything within a month's time, we will start sending out some search parties, but as I said we cannot bother her if we find her. We have to hope she will reach out to us when she is ready.” Gav continues, giving everyone a once over to see if his words are reciprocated.

Agreements are shared, some more hesitant than others, before Gav dismisses everyone to their daily duties. When the last person leaves, Gav collapses into his seat, taking deep breaths as he runs his hands over his face.

“May Greagor be with you, _____.” Gav whispers to himself.

Day 40

You can’t sleep, constantly shifting under the covers with no sense of relief. You feel hot, which is abnormal for this cool night. You start to burn up, skin flaring until it starts to burn. You sit up, panicking as you throw the covers off of you before you freeze, breath caught in your throat. In the moonlight, there is a figure sitting across the room from you, head bowed down with arms in their lap. You panic in silence, not knowing whether to fight or flight.

“You’re awake.” That voice. You know that voice all too well.

“C-Clive?” You stutter, not trusting your voice to break the quiet.

Silence suffocates the room. You wait for a response, but he just sits there. You move off the bed and walk towards him slowly, feeling off about what you are experiencing. He’s dead. Metia’s star went out. This can’t be real.

You are standing in front of him now, your bare toes touching his boots. He still doesn’t move, so you move your hands to his head, messing with the strands of hair from his head. “Clive, is it really you?”

“You left.” You pause, his tone off. Is he not happy to see me?

“Clive, I thought you were dead. We all did.”

“And yet, you still left.” He growls, finally moving his hands to grip your waist tightly, on the verge of pain. “You promised to wait for me. You broke that promise.”

“Clive,” you choke. “I’m sorry I-”

“You broke your promise to Jill.”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“You abandoned the Hideaway, my legacy, like it was nothing!”

“Clive, you’re hurting me.” You are crying now. His fingers are digging into your side hard, and you look to see he is shaking with anger.

“This is nothing in comparison to how you have hurt me!” He yells, and he lifts his head, causing you to gasp. His eyes are orange, glowing bolder and bolder the more worked up he got. You try to pry his grip off of you, but to no avail.

“Please, Clive!” You cry harder. “I love you, I'm sorry for leaving! I should have stayed!”

“You are too late, _____.” He seethes.

“Because I don’t love you anymore.”

You shoot up from your bed, screaming in a cold sweat. You look around the room like a mad woman, trying to gauge your surroundings. A wave of nausea overcomes you and you fall to the floor, vomiting from the absolute madness that occurred in your head. You dry heave on the floor, waiting for the next course of nausea to arrive but it never came. You sat up so your back was against the bed, relieved you weren’t going to be sick again, yet frustrated all the same.

You arrived in Dhalmekia four days ago. Originally, you set out to find your childhood home where you grew up with your parents, but when you arrived at the village off to the left of the Northern Velkroy, it had all but been abandoned. Your home, that was left with memories of your old life, ravaged from what you could assume to be bandits. So you kept going, hitchhiking a few rides before traveling on foot. That is when you found a small, two room cottage down in the Fields of Corava, a place you weren’t aware of, having never been south of Dalimil. There was minimal damage; a broken window and some chipped flooring. It was a better place to stay for the time being.

Ever since arriving, however, your mind has conjured terrible dreams with it being the same every time. It was always you and Clive in this room with him degrading your worth. The first night didn’t feel real, knowing that Clive would never act as such with you. But tonight, after having it for the fourth time in a row, your heart is waning.

You stare at the chair you saw Clive in, an increasing amount of anguish washing over you as you look. He’s gone. Your fingers dig into your thighs, trying to ground yourself. He’s gone. You start to choke on air, not wanting the cries of grief released from your lungs. He’s gone.

He’s gone.

He’s fucking gone!

The shell cracks, the quiet night becomes piercing as you scream. You shoot up to the chair, taking it and bashing it into the floor. You keep screaming, the splinters from the chair and the floor growing with each smack. No matter the ache your body is having, the adrenaline rushing through your it has given your grief new purpose; a cathartic event that is shaping your mentality.

The chair is nothing but wood; the bare bones of it. You get up to open the door, chucking the wood outside the door with rage. The splintered wood digs into your hands, your emotional distress covering any semblance of physical pain. Your screams have turned into wails, angry tears dripping from your face to the floor.

This rage inside of you stirred by grief makes you feel like you're dying. If anyone told you that Clive’s death would make you transform into the living dead, you’d laugh. How could anyone make you feel dead when you were the cheerful jack of the Hideaway?

The wood is now dispersed all across the field before you, bathing in the pure light of the moon. You sink into the cottage where the dark swallows you, slamming the door shut and sliding down it as your body continues its assault. Your bloody hands grip at your hair as you rock back and forth, chanting the same two words over and over.

He’s gone.

Day 70

The atmosphere at the Hideaway was the same like any other day. People were up doing their tasks or simply enjoying the day; it has been the same old, same old.

That is, until the bell on the pier sounded off.

“What is going on?!” Jill yells, everyone looking over the main deck to see the commotion. The bell is only used for emergencies, like if an enemy were to approach the Hideaway. However, Jill sees that people weren’t panicking, but rejoicing.

Gav runs up to Jill alarmed, trying to get a sense of what’s happening. “Oh fuck me! What’s going on?!”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” Jill says, her and Gav picking up the pace as they walk to see the situation at hand; both ready to take action. The two of them push through the crowd, finally reaching the railing that sees over the pier. The first instant Jill looks down, a gasp is let out with her hand covering her mouth and eyes bulging.

“No fucking way,” Gav whispers, not quite believing what he is seeing.

But their eyes do not betray them, for the bell has rang not for an emergency situation, but a message that he is alive. Clive is alive.

“He made it… Great Greagor he fucking made it!” Gav cheers.

“Clive!” Jill yells.

Clive looks up to the main deck to see two of his cherished friends, and right as he makes eye contact with them, he makes a run for the lift. Gav and Jill follow his lead, running in the direction he is to come to officially greet him. The minute Clive steps out from the lift, Gav and Jill are on him, hugging him tightly to make sure he isn’t here to haunt the place.

“You’re alive!” Jill elates.

“I apologize for my late return. I didn’t realize I’d be sorely missed.” Clive jokes, watching as more people gather around them.

“Are you kidding? This place has been falling apart without you!” Gav exaggerates.

It makes Clive chuckle, placing his hand on Gav’s shoulder as he pulls back. “Seeing all the new faces, I doubt that. And that is thanks to you. Thank you for keeping the Hideaway safe.”

Clive feels something rub his leg, and looks to see Torgal rubbing his head against him. He bends down, using his good arm to rub behind Torgal’s ears. “Torgal, have you been a good boy since I’ve been away?”

“Clive,” Jill gasps. “You’re arm.”

During Clive’s travels back home, his arm had become more of a nuisance if anything. He is a strong man; he can wield swords made of the heaviest metals, no problem. But to have an appendage weigh more than the other, well, that is a whole different situation. He had ripped part of his cape and created a sling to keep his arm in place, making travel more bearable.

Clive stands up straight, rubbing his stoned arm. “Yeah… I didn’t get away completely unscathed.” Clive draws out. “But nevertheless, we won.”

“What of Joshua and Dion?” Jill asks, even though the look in her eyes tells him she already knows. All he could do was shake his head.

“I suppose I have a lot of explaining to do.” Clive says, having much to tell.

“You will, but not before we get your arm sorted out.”

“Of course,” Clive chuckles, and turns to see Tarja with her arms crossed and hip out. He is so happy to be back amongst friends and family, ready to truly cherish his time after a battle where he could have easily perished. But most importantly, he is ready to see you.

Truth be told, Clive’s travels back to Valisthea were consumed mostly by you. All he could think about was how he craves for you to be in his warm embrace, giving him kisses and caresses that would heal him for a lifetime. To be away from you for so long is agony, and what has kept him going was knowing the future is now his and yours; one where you both can live lives worth living.

He looks around and sees a bunch of familiar faces approach, his original crew gathering around him as they welcome his return. He scans the crowd, nodding to everyone and granting a smile. However, he doesn’t see you within the sets of familiar faces.

“Where’s _____?” Clive asks, scanning the crowd once more for your face.

Everyone goes silent, glancing at one another trying to communicate. An uneasy feeling settles in Clive’s pit, not liking the reaction he got with his simple question.

Tarja is the first to speak up, diverting the question quickly with urgency. “We can talk about her later, but first we need to do something about your arm straight away. Jill. Gav. Take him to the infirmary. I’ll be up there shortly.” There was a look in Tarja’s eyes that told Clive she wouldn’t be there for a while, which made that uneasy feeling grow bolder.

Gav and Jill suddenly hook arms with Clive on either side, walking fast so he had no choice but to follow. Clive could feel himself getting frustrated, having wanted to see you for days upon days and not being granted that wish immediately upon his return.

He leans down to Jill’s ear, needing an explanation immediately. “Where is she?”

“It is better we explain once we are upstairs.” Jill reasons, although there is a shake in her voice.

The four of them get into the infirmary, Jill and Gav situating Clive on a cot. Gav whispers to Jill, her nodding in response as he jogs out of the room. Clive looks at her, a million thoughts running through his head at their peculiarness.

“Jill, what is happening?”

Jill twiddles her thumbs, taking deep breaths as she prepares herself. She looks down at the floorboards, and Clive can feel the tension in the room. “Some things happened while you were away, Clive.” Her breath trembles. “You aren’t going to be happy with what I’m about to say.”

“You are worrying me, Jill.” Clive says, trying to stay calm. “Please tell me what’s happened.”

Jill looks up, eyes starting to gloss over. She places her hands over Clive’s right hand, squeezing it gently. “The night of Origin. Metia’s star went out, and I couldn’t feel you anymore after that. I thought you were dead.

“Jill,” Clive says in a low tone. “I apologize for causing so much grief.”

“We all thought you died.” Jill laughs solemnly. “Seeing you right now doesn’t feel real.”

Clive squeezes Jill’s hands as a means to comfort her, as well as to urge her to continue. She shakes her head, tears as icy Shiva’s magick slipping down her face. “We all took it very hard. Some held hope, but after weeks of no signs of your return, everyone had accepted it.”

Jill’s breath stutters. “But Greagor, Clive. _____ took it so hard.” The tears started to fall, Jill shaking as she continued. “She wouldn’t get out of bed, wouldn’t eat… oh Greagor she wouldn’t talk to anyone. She would just lay there no matter what we tried to do.”

Clive thinks his heart just tore. The thought of you like that made him ill. And the past tense of Jill’s words make the air all the more suffocating.

“Where is she, Jill? Let me see her, please.” He pleads, needing to show you that he lives and has come back to her.

“I’m sorry,” Jill cries, her head bowing onto their intertwined hands. “I’m so sorry, Clive.”

“Jill talk to me, please!” He begs before hearing the door to the infirmary open, only to see Gav with a small scroll in his hand.

“Gav, you need to tell me what has happened.” Clive says sternly, knowing another second longer with no answer will send him into a frenzy.

Gav shows him the scroll, making Clive gently let go of Jill’s hands to reach for it but before he could grab it Gav backed away. “When you read this, know that we have plans enacted.”

Gav hands it to him, taking another step back to give Clive more space. Clive unravels the scroll quickly, the need for answers strong. And he gets his answer, but that answer makes his skin run cold and go hot at the same time.

Gav,

I apologize for putting this on you. I know your transition as the new Cid has been a lot, and I am sorry for making it much harder for you. This space is yours now. Not Clive’s, nor mine.

You know as well as the others I am not well. A part of me died the day Clive passed, and being here has made any progress of healing not happen. Truth is, I see him everywhere. Everything here reminds me of him, and it’s killing me because one moment I see him and the next I don’t. The grief that has consumed me has become everlasting.

By the time you read this, I will be far gone. Please, I beg of you, do not come find me. Do not send anyone to come find me. I will not come back, at least for now. Any chance of me getting better is for me to go out there, not stay here. I know this will cause worry, and I apologize for being a nuisance, but I have no choice. It’s either I die out there trying or I stay here rotting.

Tell the others I’m sorry, especially Jill, and take care of her. Once I’m ready, I’ll send word of my whereabouts. Until then, please let me grieve in peace.

Much obliged,

_____

Clive is seeing red. His fist starts to squeeze the paper, crackles and the sound of a tear coming from it. “When did she leave?”

“It’s been about a month.” Gav mutters, and everything that happens next is a blur. Clive shoots up from the bed, charging towards Gav before slamming him into the door.

“Clive, please don’t!” Jill cries.

“She’s been gone for a month?! And you have yet to find her?!” Clive yells, his fist gripping tightly onto Gav’s leathers.

“We have notified people on the outside to keep us posted.” Gav tries to reassure. “That is what the Hideaway members have agreed on.” His words do nothing to soothe him. If he still had his magick, he is sure hellfire would rain on the Hideaway.

“She needed time, Clive.” Jill rests her hand on his shoulder. “We chose to respect her wishes.”

He scoffs, backing away from the both of them, disbelief clear on his features. “You agreed to this too?”

“You were not here to witness what we did!” Jill yells agitated. “Clive, I understand your frustration, but if you saw how she was you wouldn’t think twice.”

He wants to stay angry, put the blame on someone selfishly. You’ve done so much for the Hideaway, the cause, everyone involved. How could they let you leave? But all he feels is defeat. He came too late, and now he needs to make up for lost time.

“Excuse me,” Clive mutters, walking towards the door Gav is still leaning against.

Jill shoots herself to grab the upper half of his petrified arm, a grunt forced out at the pulling tension. “Clive, you need to stay right here so Tarja can do something about your arm.”

“No, I am going to go out and look for her! She needs to know I’m alive!” He tries shaking her grip off his arm, but to no avail as she holds on tighter. Panic is starting to set in, not knowing where you are and if you are safe freaking him out. It is almost as if he is experiencing firsthand what you went through.

Gav steps forward, putting his hands on Clive’s shoulders shaking him slightly. “We have cursebreakers looking for her daily now that the month of her leave has passed. We will find her. And now that you are back, we will bring her home.”

“Once you are better, we will go with you to search for her. But for right now, you need to rest. Let the cursebreakers do what they’ve been assigned to do.” Jill reassures. “Let’s get you ready for Tarja. The sooner she can fix you up, the faster you can go out.”

Clive takes a deep breath before nodding, and lets Jill and Gav guide him back to the cot. He sits back down, and all he can do is look down at the floorboards. Anger and defeat have turned into a sadness he cannot fully comprehend; a feeling he hasn’t quite felt before. “Do you two mind giving me some time alone? Please.”

“Of course, Clive. We will be outside if you need anything.” Jill says, before the sound of four feet patter across the floor and the creak of the door opens and closes, leaving Clive completely alone.

He doesn’t know how long he stays like that; unmoving, eyes glued to the floor. All he thinks is he should have found a way to send a message to you so you knew he had survived. Deep down, he knows there was nothing he could have done given his circumstances, but that doesn’t stop the blame game he is putting upon himself. So he sits there, wallowing in his heartache as his shoulders shake and throat lets out faint sobs.

The letter is still held tightly in his grasp.

Day 71

Waking up early in the morning before the sun makes its greeting isn’t abnormal for you, not when you dream constantly. Sometimes your dreams would startle you. Sometimes they would make you wake up crying. Sometimes they would wake you up with a smile on your face. But the time is always the same; the moon is always there to tell you the time of the morning and you fall back into a deep sleep before the sun shows itself. However, this time is different.

In recent days, you’ve had nothing but wonderful dreams. Not ones like when you first came here, or ones about a future no longer possible. They were dreams of the past, deja vu in nature. Fond memories of you and Clive ranging from the first time you laid eyes on him to the last. What’s different about your calling back to the real world is your eyes open to hues of yellow and orange shining through the window. It is not the moon’s beams that greet you, but the sun’s rays.

You get out of bed and go to the door, opening it to step out onto the field. The early morning air hits your skin, the grass licking at your feet as you continue forward. You trek to the spot between the elevated land, a v-shape displaying the rising sun as it continues its ascent. Your hand goes out in front of you, watching your skin transform as the sun’s colors grow brighter. You can’t help but smile at the sight before you because all you feel is peace. For once since Valisthea changed forever, you felt like everything will be okay.

You think about the first time you and Clive watched the sunrise together, holding each other tightly as you both talk about how it is a new day full of hopes and dreams. You remember him telling you how he has never felt more alive than he did in that moment, and you can understand why; you understand because you feel the same.

You know Clive would want you to live to the fullest, for that was what he wanted all along. Even if things didn’t turn out the way they should have, he would have wanted you to live for him, but most importantly for yourself. He would want you to remember your time together fondly, and that it wasn’t for nothing. It was everything.

You inhale deeply, the scents of the morning filling your airways before you exhale. You continue to look out on the horizon, mesmerized by the beauty of a new day; a new start .

“I deserve to be happy, right Clive?” You whisper to yourself. “I will continue to live for you and for me. Starting now.”

This is the start of your new life.

Day 172

“These are absolutely beautiful, my lady. These are so hard to find in Dhalmekia.”

You smile brightly, watching the woman before you admire your handy work. “I’m pleased that you love them. Morgenbeards are native to the swampy waters in Rosaria, but I was able to get my hands on some seeds.”

“You must know your stuff to get them to grow here.” The lady continues.

You shake your head, grinning at her. “I have my ways.”

To say things have gotten better would be the greatest understatement in history because you are thriving. It is as if everything has fallen into place. You fixed up the small cottage you are residing in so it felt more like a home rather than a temporary visit. You did a lot of prep work to ensure you’d live comfortably. The greatest thing, however, is you found a way to make a living for yourself, the one thing you do best: grow flowers.

You noticed how flowers grew in the fields, yet you could tell they needed help; the Dhalmeky dirt too dry to keep them alive for long. You were able to get some books on flower gardening, along with different kinds of seeds, all imported from merchants who graciously accepted the little gil you had. It took some time, but those things helped you open a flower shop out of your home. And thus far, it has been a wonderful success.

You had taken a flower cart to Dalimil to get your name out there, and to let people know where to find your business. You eventually want to move your business within the inn’s market, but when you had come to propose the idea, you found out Lubor had been gone on an expedition. The cart will have to do, you recalled thinking. The people there have been nothing but supportive, offering their business in exchange for theirs: vases, business signs, gardening supplies, etcetera. It was a good system that benefitted you and them. You were grateful.

You are sitting at the kitchen table, having closed shop for the day, sipping on some hot tea as you write down your daily earnings. A hard day’s work is rewarding, and knowing your flowers have made your customers happy makes you happy. To be doing things that feel worthwhile feels good, and the last time you felt this way was when you lived at the Hideaway.

The Hideaway. You stop writing as you reminisce about those times. It really wasn’t that long ago, yet it feels like a lifetime. Have I changed that much?

You miss everyone dearly. You miss Tarja’s tough love. You miss Mid’s inventiveness. You miss Otto’s gruffness. You miss Tome’s stories of his travels. You miss Jote’s coolness. You miss Gav’s banter. You miss Torgal’s way of comforting you. You miss Jill’s faith. You miss everyone. You often wonder if they miss you too.

You are surprised no one has come looking for you, or have found you if they were. You think about what they must have thought when you left that letter. Were they angry? Sad? Worried? All three? Did they listen to you when you said you didn’t want to be found or did they nonstop look day and night for you? You couldn’t tell. Not unless you find out for yourself.

You set the daily earnings paper aside, and lay out a fresh one, your quill hovering over the paper as you think of what to say. There are so many words to say, yet you don’t know where to start. Do you share everything? Do you just tell them you are okay? Do you tell them where you are? So many questions to answer with little paper to write it all out. So you write something simple, hoping it gets the message across.

I hope this finds you well. Come see me if you wish. You all know where to find me.

Day 179

Clive’s search for you has been non-stop, days and nights spent looking for trails only to find dead ends. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get how you could have disappeared without a trace. But that will not deter him. He will not stop looking until he finds you.

Every place that Clive could think of they checked. Areas in Dhalmekia were the first places they looked, knowing you knew the area better than others. The very first place they checked was your childhood home near the Northern Velkroy, but it didn’t look like there were any signs of life there. Different towns within the area were checked but no one had heard or seen you. Hell, they were more surprised to see him alive and well to focus on the whereabouts of a lost woman. He understood, but it grated his nerves.

Every other place in Valisthea had been scouted and marked as they went, but every location and mark was the same. So here he was, writing letters to town leaders of the cause again to be his eyes. You have to show up somewhere eventually, if you haven’t already.

As every day passes, his heart wanes further. It yearns for you, calling out its other half to be complete again. When he does rest, granted not for long periods of time, he imagines you are lying with him. He holds a pillow close in his arms, picturing it to be you to subdue his crazed heart and mind. It was nice to pretend, but then he wakes up and is sorely disappointed to see what lies in his arms is just that: a pillow. It’s a cycle because the same thought crosses his mind each and every time: the day you are back in his arms will be a momentous day. That day has yet to come.

He keeps writing the same words over and over on different sheets of paper when he hears commotion from beyond his doors. The fighting instinct in him shoots up, running to the door to see what was happening when he sees Otto, Jill, and Gav running towards him.

“Has something happened?” Clive asks, alarmed.

Otto reaches Clive first, shoving a piece of paper into his hand. “She has communicated with us.”

Clive couldn’t read the paper fast enough, not quite believing this day had come. He rings out the paper to straighten it before reading her handwriting. “She is staying in a cottage in the Fields of Corava.”

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go get the lass back!” Gav expresses with full excitement, springs basically on the bottom of his feet with how bouncy he is.

Jill pats Gav on the back. “Gav, let’s let Clive go alone.” She then turns to face Clive, an understanding smile greeting him. “They will need some time together.”

“Thank you, Jill.” Clive says softly. “I thank all of you.”

“Well, if that’s the case…” Gav draws out, approaching Clive before slamming his hand on his shoulder, “you better get cleaned up! You have a lady to see.”

Clive laughs at Gav’s antics, and turns to ready himself; ready himself to return to you once and for all.

Day 184

It’s late in the morning as you gather flowers into your basket, trimming and cutting the ones that have bloomed beautifully. The flower gardens in the field were flourishing more and more every day. The more you work in the gardens, the more fulfillment you feel. You felt this when you helped out in the Backyard, but what you built here is from your own doing. You believe it to be a testament to your growth, showing that you made the right decision all those months ago. You’ve created your own little utopia, and to share it with others is a beautiful thing.

As you cut fresh flowers, you start to wonder if people at the Hideaway got your letter. You would love for them to come visit, and see what you have done with the place. You wonder if they will ever come to see you or if they will send a letter back. It could be any day now, and you will be ready.

You have a full basket of flowers ready to be put in vases, and before you can get up to head inside you see a shadow lingering above your form. “I’m sorry, but I won't be open for another couple of hours.”

There is no reply, and the shadow remains as still as a statue. You sigh, standing up to turn and be more clear with your words. “I apologize for the inconvenience, but I still need to se-”

The flower basket falls from your grasp, tumbling out and falling into a heap by your feet. Time has frozen, not feeling real as you look at the person you have longed to see for months. You question if you are hallucinating, having had moments where you would see Clive one second and the next he was gone. This, however, was different.

The man before you was not in uniform; just a simple white tunic that displayed a few of his chest curls at the v-cut and regular black trousers with his leather boots. His face was clean-shaven, the facial hair he had kept for so long absent from his face making him look younger. The biggest difference, however, was his left arm; from his elbow down was gone. How could this be hallucination?

“Am I dreaming or is this real?” You breathe, blinking a few times to see if he’d disappear. He didn’t.

He takes a step forward, grabbing one of your hands to place it over his heart. He is warm, his heart fluttering quickly. He is looking down into your eyes, where you see his baby blues grow glossy. “This is real.” He murmurs. “I’m home, sweetheart.”

Something about his words break you, your hands latching onto his shirt to hold yourself to reality. He’s home. My Clive is home.

You can’t help the sobs that leave your mouth as you bury your face into his chest, making him wrap his arm around you as you both collapse down into the flower beds. You are feeling every emotion under the sun, and you can tell Clive does too as he holds you in his lap. He cries with you, sharing a reunion so pure that it is overwhelming. You lift your head and bring his face to yours, kissing him so deeply that your lungs shake. Exchanges of small words come out between the two of you as you give each other kisses that have been longed for.

“I never thought I’d see this day.” You say with a wobble in your tone, kissing him again and again. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” Clive croaks, and goes back in for your lips.

There you both make up for lost time; holding onto each other in a field of flowers where kisses and touches are continuously exchanged.

You and Clive eventually went inside. You turn the sign on your door to ‘close’, so no one can bother you two. You watch Clive look around the place, taking in your little set up of flowers on the kitchen table.

“I apologize for the mess. I’ve had a lot of requests over the last few days believe it or not.”

Clive looks at you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. “That doesn’t surprise me in the least. You’ve always had a way with flowers. Speaking of which…”

He reaches into his pocket, only to pull out the lily you had given him all that time ago. You gasp, surprised he has kept hold of it. “You still have it? But how?”

“I protected it with my life.” Clive sets it onto the table. “You gave it to me with the wish that I’d return to you. I wasn’t going to lose it easily.”

“You are so endearing.” You say, but you have so many things you want to know and that alone puts a small frown on your face.

Clives sees the shift immediately, grabbing your hand to console you. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“What happened at Origin, Clive?” You ask, needing to know what he went through for the time he was gone.

Clive exhales, seemingly knowing that question was coming. He pulls your hand towards him as he walks to your bed. “We should sit down. It is a long story.”

The two of you sit down and Clive still has a tight hold on one of your hands. “Forgive me, for this may take me a second. Thinking about certain events there still hurts.”

You bring your free hand to his face, which feels smooth under your touch. His head leans into your palm, turning slightly to kiss the delicate skin. “Take all the time you need. I am here.” You murmur.

And so, he tells the tale of Origin. He tells you about Dion’s sacrifice. He tells you about what he found out about Ultima’s plans. He tells you about Joshua’s passing, something he had a hard time conveying without his voice breaking, but he pushed on. He tells you about Ultima’s demise. He tells you about how he woke up somewhere off the Shadow Coast of Storm. And he tells you how throughout his journey back to Valisthea, all he could think about was how he couldn’t wait to come home to you. All of it was hard to listen to, hearing what he went through from Origin till now.

“So, Metia going out was a sign that magick has been lost…”

“Mmm,” he hums, the both of you lying down now.

“So that’s why you didn’t become wholly petrified? You stopped it in time.”

“Tarja did a great job removing it and ensuring my stub was healed properly, despite my stubbornness.” He jokes, but you don’t laugh. All you can think about is the past.

“If only I waited a little longer,” you start. “I would have saved us so much grief.”

“Don’t you dare blame yourself.” Clive shushes, kissing the top of your head and pulling you closer into his body. “Jill told me you had a very hard time grieving. I will not shame you for doing something you felt was right.

You bury your head into Clive’s neck, breathing in something that is so undeniably him. “You know, when I first got here, I would have these dreams. Nightmares really.”

Clive stays silent, letting you continue. “It would always start and end the same. I would wake up with you in the room, and the next thing I knew you were telling me I had betrayed you… and that you no longer loved me.” You start to sniff, not liking to recall those dreams. “For such a long time, I felt I didn’t deserve to be happy because I had left part of your legacy behind. It felt like your ghost was haunting me day and night.”

“Oh, darling,” Clive pulls you into him so you are on top of him with legs on either side of him. Clive brings your forehead to his, his thumb coming up to swipe the tears building up in your eyes. “I could never not love you.” He looks deeply into you, burning the truth of his heart into you. “I am yours even beyond death.”

His words overwhelm you, and you lean down to kiss him with every passionate fiber in your being. Your hands go to his torso, running your fingers up and down the sides as you continue to show him how much you love him. He grunts into your lips, his arm holding you down to him. Your hands start to slide slowly under his tunic, your fingers slowly ascending until they reach his chest only to go down again. The delicate touch of your fingers makes his hips buck right against your heat, a grunt and a moan echoing together simultaneously. Your hands go back up again, only this time you bring the tunic with you.

“We have a lot of lost time to make up for.” You say against his lips.

Clive smirks at your boldness, only to flip you over on your back so he is hovering over you. “That we do, darling. Forgive me, though. Having one arm gives me less leverage.”

You hum, bringing him back down to you by his hair. “I’m sure we can manage.”

You two make love into the night and into the morning, not getting enough of one another; making up for lost time.

Day 200

Since you and Clive’s reunion, he had decided to stay for a while. He had sent a letter to the Hideaway to let them know you were well and that he would be staying for the time being, making Gav in charge.

“He’ll love that.” You had joked.

“He’s his own man. I have all the faith in him.”

These last few weeks have been sublime. When you wake up, you see Clive snoozing away beside you on your right; always the right so he can wrap his arm around you in his sleep. He has also helped you with the flower shop. You two would go out in the morning before the heat set in to work the ground and water the flowers. You don’t know if the yearning in your body has yet to be satiated, but there have been times when you would come outside to gather more flowers to see Clive with his shirt off, sweat glistening on his burly chest as he works. It takes every bone in your body not to jump his own. Most times, you are unsuccessful.

You also found out Clive is quite the salesman. When you two would go out to Dalimil to sell from your cart, the way he is able to convince people to make a purchase is astounding. Is it the charm? The looks? A combination of both? You could guess, but it didn’t matter. Every time you made a sale, he would turn to give you a quick peck.

“I would kiss you for every individual flower we sell, but we don’t want to scare them away now, do we?”

After a long day out in Dalimil, you two are now inside the cottage finishing up dinner. You are cleaning the dishes when you feel him behind you, wrapping his arm around you pulling your hips to his. You hum in a laughing manner, his friskiness showing as he places kisses on the side of your face. “Clive, let me finish these.”

“They aren’t going anywhere.” He hums, his kisses lingering below your ear.

You sigh but continue cleaning. Clive, on the other hand, was not having it. He pulls you away, soap and water sloshing from your hands as he pulls you to him. He plops down onto the kitchen chair, bringing you into his lap. “Hmmm, I got you.”

“You are such a horn dog. Are you sure Ifrit still doesn’t linger within you?” You laugh, then squeak when he pinches your side.

“In all seriousness,” he murmurs in your ear. “I want to talk about something.”

“About?” You hum.

“About our future.”

“Go on,” you urge. “What about our future?”

“Well,” Clive starts, “living the way we have the last couple weeks, my mind can’t stop wandering to what I want for us.”

Your hand reaches up to his cheek, only for him to nip at the tips of your fingers causing you to giggle. “Such as?”

“To start the life we’ve always talked about.” He places more kisses on your neck. “One where our lives are strictly ours. One where I come home to my beautiful wife.”

“I like the sound of that.” You mewl, his kisses making you squirm in his lap.

“One where I get to see you bearing our child.” His hand goes down to your tummy, rubbing just above your uterus.

“I’ll be surprised if I’m not already with all the love making we have done.” You giggle.

He chuckles along with you, his hand squeezing your flesh. “You’d look beautiful. You always do.” He continues, “one where I get to raise a little me, a little you, or both.”

“It all sounds so wonderful.” You purr, feeling all warm and fuzzy at his remarks.

“Then let’s go ahead with step one.” Clive says, lifting you off of him only to sit you back down. He kneels before you, both of your hands in his one. “I don’t have a ring, but I can’t wait a moment longer. _____, will you do me the utmost honor of marrying me?”

You hum, smiling brightly at his question. “Would you have me in a wedding dress? A big ceremony?”

“Anything your heart desires.”

You shake your head, laughing at his insistence. You look at him, letting yourself get swallowed by his eyes. “I’d marry you with just the clothes on my back.”

Clive grins, bringing your left hand to his lips as he kisses your ring finger. “I cannot wait to marry you, future Lady Rosfield.”

Lady Rosfield. It has a nice ring to it.

#clive rosfield x reader #clive rosfield #ffxvi x reader #ffxvi #clive rosfield angst #clive x reader #final fantasy xvi #my fics

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