#summer collective haul | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wileys-russo · 3 months

Note

Please would you be able to write an awfc x teen!reader fic based on the photos of the girls playing Aussie rules today in training? Maybe a bit of annoying younger sister energy (kind of like kyra)! I love you stuff thank you for all of it :)

not completelyy happy with this but it was something different to try! drop kick II awfc x teen!r

"oh you're not bringing that are you?" steph sighed as you stretched over to grab the bright red ball from her back seat. "yeah! why not?" you grinned as the two of you stepped out of her car.

"well because we don't play afl we play football." steph shook her head, though she knew better than to even try and argue the case knowing all too well how stubborn you were.

"then it'll be a fun learning experience for the girls! wheres your australian spirit steffy?" you gave her a toothy grin, the older girl clearing her throat as you spun around. "forgetting something?" steph raised her eyebrow and subtly nodded to your bag.

"oh! yeah that might help." you grinned, jogging back and grabbing it, kissing stephs cheek in thanks who pushed you off with an amused roll of her eyes.

"all this time off and she's forgotten what sport we play!" caitlin teased watching you stuff the ball with some difficulty into your gym bag but eventually succeeding, ruffling your hair as you smacked her hand away.

"sorry hard launch i couldn't hear you over the massive closet of your latest relationship?" you cupped a hand over your ear as steph snickered and you grinned, though catching the look which flashed across caitlins face you wasted no time sprinting off.

"ya could have four legs and i'd still outpace you foordy!" you yelled over your shoulder as she gave up chasing you, pausing to fall back into step with steph and flipping you the finger.

"i'll get you later skippy just you wait! i know where you live!" caitlin yelled menacingly after you, and of course she would considering you bounced between her place and stephs, not allowed to get your own as much as you'd begged and pleaded.

you were so busy gloating you didn't watch where you were going and wheezed as your body slammed into someone elses. "speed racers back in town then! who we runnin from now?" jen grinned, hauling you up and over her shoulder.

"i've missed these delightful walks of ours jb." you patted her back affectionately feeling her body vibrate with laughter as you flipped caitlin the bird before jen turned a corner, earning yourself a disappointed look from steph.

"lee!" you called out happily as the two of you entered the change rooms and you spotted her sitting at her cubby dressed for training, the blonde looking up from her phone as jen put you down. "you're back training properly??" the taller girl stumbled a little at the speed in which you crashed into her for a hug.

"much as i can be. missed you skippy!" the blonde ruffled your hair, kissing your cheek and shoving you over toward lia who seemingly appeared out of nowhere, wrapping you in another tight hug.

"hi wally! happy new year." you mumbled into her shoulder making her laugh. "happy new year winzig, did you have a nice break?" the swiss woman walked you toward your cubby which was between kyra and vics.

"yes! god i miss australia so much already. the beaches, the tan, the food, my family. its cruel that i come from warm sunny beautiful summer to this, english winter fucking sucks!" you huffed unhappily, wincing as a hand collected the back of your head.

"language little miss. thats a fiver!" beth wagged her finger at you with a stern look as you rolled your eyes and hugged her girlfriend instead causing her to scoff. "what? you know i am her favourite." viv shrugged as beth made a noise of disbelief and you sent her a smug smile.

you hadn't even separated from the pair for more than five seconds before a body hurtled into you sending you flying, kyras body latched onto you as stina hurried to grab you, stopping you from hitting the floor.

"get off me you rat!" you wrenched off the girls hands and sent stina a grateful look who gave the pair of you an amused smile, turning back to her conversation with amanda.

"rat! you're the little rat, did you forget about the pictures of-" kyra started as your eyes widened and you hastily covered her mouth. "you swore on calvins life you would take that to the grave." you growled quietly, pulling your hand away in disgust as kyra licked it, wiping it on her jersey.

"but i'm the child? grow up cooney-cross." you scoffed, letting out a yell as again kyra leapt onto you, this time successfully taking you down to the ground as the two of you rolled around wrestling until you were seperated by leah and steph.

most of the girls having filed out toward the pitch and steph impatiently tapping her foot in waiting you hurried to get your boots on, grabbing the afl ball out afterward.

"you can't bring it to training." "why not?" "well-" "see, you can't even think of a good reason stephanie."

and with that you tucked it under your arm and strode out of the change rooms as steph groaned. "can you see any greys jenny? she's been back for three days and its already falling out from the stress!" steph huffed gesturing to her hair as the tall scottish woman chuckled and slung an arm over her should.

"what is that!" vic pulled a face as you appeared with the foreign looking ball. "aussie rules ball!" you beamed, kicking it at kyra who dove to catch it, earning yourself the attention of a few more of the girls who looked on curiously.

"right i'm game. give us a go then skippy!" leah clapped as you tossed her the ball and explained how to hold and position it to be drop kicked. "yeah yeah its a ball, i'm an athlete. i got it!" she brushed you off as you held your hands up and took a few steps back.

you slumped into lotte who appeared by your side, pulling you into a hug and kissing the top of your head. "go on lee while some of us are still young, kimmy might have to retire by the time you kick this thing." you grinned cheekily, hiding behind lotte at the look sent your way by your captain across the pitch.

"oh brilliant! she's a natural." you threw your head back with a laugh as leah completely missed, nearly kneeing herself in the face as the ball bounced away. "shut up!" the blonde warned you with a glare, hurrying to grab the ball again.

"show me again." leah demanded firmly as lotte let you go and you grabbed the ball. "oi ireland!" you yelled, katie looking up from her conversation with gio and grinning as you held up the ball and she readied herself to catch.

"like this." you huffed as you kicked the ball with all your might, the red leather sailing up into the air and right into katies awaiting arms. "you know i might need to recruit you to take some of my goal kicks. how much do you really like being a striker?" manu messed up your hair with a gloved hand as you pushed her away with a smile.

"how the fu-" leah shook her head as katie booted the ball toward caitlin perfectly. "its cause she's got a bit of aussie in her, literally." you smirked quietly, leah turning to you with wide shocked eyes at the comment.

"i'm telling steph to wash that filthy little mouth out with soap tonight skippy."

you barely heard her as you were already taking off racing toward kyra who was trying to teach gio how to kick, your body hurtling into hers. "tackle!" you cheered as kyra groaned from beneath you and you plucked the ball from her hand and took off again.

"they don't tackle in afl you little shit thats nrl!"

"nope!" you were suddenly off the ground again as caitlins arms wrapped around your waist and took you down to the ground, tossing the ball to katie and getting off of you.

"piggy in the middle!" you cheered happily jumping to your feet and racing off toward an unsuspecting cloe who was merely holding the ball, the blondes eyes widening as she hurried to toss the ball toward sabs who frowned in confusion before your body hurtled into hers.

"hey steph." the defender looked up from where she was watching you as jen appeared by her side.

"yeah mate, i can see those greys now."

#woso #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso community #awfc x reader #arsenal women #awfc

595 notes · View notes

atinylittlepain · 1 year

Text

Apothecary - A Joel Miller Story

joel miller x witchy!reader

Series masterlist

joel becomes curious about the woman running the medicine shop in Jackson, and the strange rumors swirling around her.

warnings | 18+ angst, fluff, spooky ooky stuff

a/n | this was born out of me getting high and rewatching practical magic. i intend to make this a lil universe in and of itself bc i love the idea :)

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

Joel stops outside the storefront down the main drag of Jackson. Old license plates have been cut up to create a hodge-podged sign hanging over the door. Apothecary. When he enters, wind chimes tinkling above the door, he thinks that it looks more like a greenhouse than a medicine shop, potted plants clearly tended to with care all over the place.

“Hello?” Though the sign says the store is open, he doesn’t see anyone around, sidling up to the checkout counter and eyeing the collection of rocks lined up next to the old, rusted-out cash register. He doesn’t have long to muse to himself about how strange the shop is when something brushes quick against his legs all of a sudden, making him let out a hard curse as he whips around in time to see a sleek black cat padding toward the back of the store.

“Sorry about her, Stevie thinks she owns the place.” He’s startled again by a voice, nearly jumping out of his boots when he turns around to find a woman has appeared behind the counter. She’s certainly a sight, old bracelets trailing up both her wrists, and dangling earrings that look to be made out of scraps of stained glass. She’s pretty, if not a little wild looking. He has to clear his throat before speaking.

“Um, I’m sorry. The sign said you’re open.” She smiles, tilting her head slightly as she looks at him.

“Oh, we are! I was just working in the back. What can I help you with?”

“Maria sent me? She said you’d be able to help– my kid’s got a pretty bad case of poison ivy and, um, yeah. I’m Joel– by the way.” Her smile broadens, warm and bright as she steps out from behind the counter, Joel stuttering into motion as she nods for him to follow her.

“I know who you are, Joel. Everyone can’t stop talking about the Jackson newcomers– welcome– by the way.” He’s a little distracted from listening to her words by the backroom she leads him into, lined with shelves stacked with glass jars full of all sorts of dried plants and thick books. There’s a wide gas range in the back of the room, large bubbling pots on most of the hobs. She glances at him over her shoulder as she flits by to stir the simmering pots.

“This used to be a bakery, way before, if you can believe it. I thought Maria was crazy when she offered me the space. But we’ve made it work.” His brow furrows.

“We?” Just then, that damn cat brushes past his legs again, making him stumble over his feet. The cat leaps up onto one of the shelves, and she chuckles as she strokes its head, smiling at Joel before turning back to the stove.

Seemingly satisfied with the state of whatever she’s got brewing, she claps her hands together before turning back around to Joel.

“Now then, poison ivy is no fun, huh? Probably get someone in here every couple of days asking for my help with it in the summer. Lucky for you, I’ve got just the stuff to calm it down.” When she passes by him, he gets a deep whiff of something heady, like that incense stuff Sarah liked to burn. Her hands flicker over glass jars, muttering to herself as she grabs a few items. He can’t help the way his eyes graze down her bare legs in her cut-off overalls, smiling when he sees she’s wearing two different colored sneakers. Arms full, she lays out her haul on what looks like once was a butcher's block, her eyes darting up to his as she coaxes him further into the room with a crook of her finger.

“This is witch hazel– it’ll be your kid’s first line of defense to help some of the redness and swelling calm down.” She passes him a small glass bottle full of murky liquid before holding up a little tin.

“Salve made with beeswax from the hives in town and calendula– she can slather this on to help with the itching.” She’s speaking so fast he doesn’t have time to question how she knows that his kid is a she, already holding up something else, a cloth sachet.

“Oatmeal, Sarah can run a bath and soak with this in it– should soothe the itching and calm down the rash in general. I’ll give you a couple of those, you can use them a few times, but fresh is always better.” He didn’t hear the last bit, a ringing starting in his ears at the mention of that name.

“You said Sarah– w-where’d you hear that name?” Her face falls.

“Oh, I, um–” He swallows hard, cutting her off.

“I had a daughter named Sarah– she— passed— when everything– well, when everything fell apart. How did you– how did you know that name?” She sighs, offering him a nervous smile.

“It was just a slip, a lucky guess– or unlucky, I suppose. I’m really sorry, Joel. I didn’t mean to–”

“No, no. It’s, um, it’s fine. Just caught me by surprise is all. Ellie– that’s the name of my kid that’s probably itching herself into a frenzy right now.” Her smile widens just slightly at that, her shoulders coming unwound. He reckons that if it had been anyone else saying Sarah’s name, he would’ve knocked their lights out. But all he feels hearing her say it is an almost soothing sadness.

“Well, in that case, I hope Ellie starts feeling better soon. Oh! I have one more thing for you!” Before he can protest, his hands already full of the little bits she gave him, she slips over to one of the shelves to grab another small tin before coming back over to him.

“Spearmint and lavender– these mountains are crawling with it– mixed up in a balm. Good for back pain.” His jaw slackens.

“How did you–”

“Lucky guess. Lemme know if it helps.” The way she grins at him almost distracts him, almost, but he huffs, shaking his head.

“I can’t take all this for free– it’s– it’s too much.” She laughs.

“Well who said anything about free? I was hoping you’d trade me some of your time for all that.” He squints at her, not sure what she means, and she chuckles at his questioning look.

“From what I hear, you’re pretty good on patrol. Would you be willing to come with me up into the mountains a time or two? It’s peak harvesting time for all these goodies and I could use an extra pair of eyes.” She waves her arm, motioning toward the shelves stocked with plants.

“That’s all? Doesn’t sound like a–” She cuts him off with another wave of her arm, her bracelets clinking wildly with the motion.

“I know I drive a hard deal, but that’s the best I can do.” By the crinkling around her eyes, he can tell that there will be no arguing with her, even though it’s obviously not a fair trade with the way she’s loaded him up with stuff. He sighs, finally nodding.

“Um, alright then. You just tell me when and I’m your man– I mean– not your– I’m–” while he’s mortified by the way he just put his foot in his mouth, she seems perfectly amused by it, letting out a light laugh that cuts off his floundering.

“Sounds like we have a deal. I’d shake your hand if both of them weren’t full– oh! I haven’t even told you my name, have I?” He shakes his head and she sighs at herself, telling him her name. He rolls it over in his mind a few times as she apologizes for her lack of manners, walking with him back out to the front of the shop.

“If Ellie’s still itching in a week, come back and tell me. I might have something a little stronger that can help.” He nods as she opens the door for him, but before he can step out, the cat is twining between his boots, purring like an engine. He’s never liked cats much.

“Hmm, Stevie likes you. That’s rare, y’know. Very high compliment from little miss.” She grins at him, all warmth and sweetness. Maybe he can make an exception for one cat. She scoops up the cat, nuzzling her chin over the top of the purring feline’s head. He leans against the doorframe, suddenly not too worried about getting home to Ellie who’s probably scratching her skin off right now.

“Is that Stevie, um, as in Stevie Nicks?” That earns him her brightest smile yet. It didn’t take a genius to make that guess, seeing as she’s dressed like she just stepped out of a hippie commune, though Joel supposes that Jackson could fit that description.

“Mmhmm, you a Fleetwood Mac fan?” Truthfully, he isn’t. Not now, and not before. But for some reason, he’s inclined to nod.

“Aren’t you a little young to be listening to them?” She scoffs. He’s honestly not sure how old she is, definitely younger than him, but that’s as far as he can guess.

“They were my mom’s favorite band, and then they were mine– are mine. I managed to snatch an old vinyl of theirs a while ago but I wore it out I played it so much.” She lets out a light laugh, Stevie squirming in her arms. Joel makes a mental note to keep his eyes peeled for records on his patrol shifts, only getting snapped out of his thoughts when she lets out a sigh.

“I should let you get back to Ellie, she’s probably itching up a storm by now. Let me know how that stuff works for her.” He nods, taking one more look at the cat who he swears has been staring at him, before stepping out.

“I will– thank you– really, I appreciate it. And you’ll let me know when you need my help?” She offers him a crooked smile as she nods.

“I sure will. It was nice to meet you, Joel. I’ll see you soon.”

It must have been his eyes playing tricks on him. At least that’s what he tells himself the whole walk home. Cats can’t wink, right?

…

With summer in full swing, the weekly market in town has moved from the community center outside to the main drag of Jackson, makeshift booths heavy with abundant produce, fresh breads, and other wares.

Ellie had dragged Joel out with her, poison ivy all but cleared now, and promptly abandoned him to run off with her new friends. He finds himself leaning up against one of the storefronts, quietly watching the comings and goings, always surprised by just how many folks there are in this town. His interest is piqued, however, when he sees a familiar black cat slinking through the crowd. He cranes his neck, watching as the cat stops between a pair of mismatched sneakers. His eyes trail up, seeing her in those same overalls, dangly earrings glinting in the mid-day sun as she looks over a table of produce.

“You’re gonna catch flies looking like that, brother.” Tommy’s voice startles him, his focus reluctantly pulling away from her to his brother who has sidled up next to him, a smug grin on his face. Joel clears his throat, trying to hide the fact that his jaw really had been hanging on its hinges. Tommy chuckles.

“Who are you making eyes at anyways?”

“I’m not making eyes at anyone. I was looking for Ellie– I lost track of her in this damn crowd.” Tommy shakes his head, his eyes trailing to where Joel had just been looking. By the way his grin widens, he seems to know exactly who Joel had been looking at.

“Maria told me she sent you to the apothecary the other day. That lady’s something else, huh?” Joel glances back over to her, seeing that she’s started wandering along the booths, cat trailing along behind her.

“What’s her– how– what do you know about her?” Tommy sighs, glancing back at Joel.

“Well, the old Jackson rumor mill will tell you one thing. But all she’s been is a service to the community, really. Was the biggest help to Maria when she was pregnant– helped her through the birth and everything.” Joel squints at his brother.

“And what does the “old Jackson rumor mill” have to say about her?” Tommy lets out another sigh, scratching at the scruff along his jaw.

“It’s silly, honestly. Just a story made up by people with small minds.”

“So what is it? Just tell me, Tommy.”

“Some folks around town– they’ve got it in their heads that– well, that she’s a witch.” Joel feels his face go slack at that. Tommy just shakes his head.

“I told you it’s stupid. People just– they think she’s a bit strange, I guess. Though if you ask me, that rumor has more to do with all the wives of Jackson not liking the way their men look at her.” Joel glances away at his brother, finding her in the crowd. But this time, he notices all the people around her, mostly the women, and the nasty way they seem to size her up as she walks by. Joel huffs.

“That’s gotta be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. A couple of ladies get jealous so they start calling her a witch? Seriously?” Tommy shrugs.

“Hey, stranger things have happened. It’s not so hard to believe, not since people started growing mushrooms out of their skulls.” Tommy’s got him there, but Joel still has to shake his head at what his brother has told him.

“I thought you said it’s just a silly rumor.” His brother’s silence tells him more than words ever could, and Joel has to laugh.

“You’re kidding. You actually think that we’ve got a– a witch in town?” Tommy grumbles at that.

“Look, Joel, I’m not gonna lie to you. There’s been some freaky shit with her– healing people, knowing things that she shouldn’t know, hell, even that damn cat of hers is–”

“What do you mean– knowing things she shouldn’t know?” Tommy huffs at Joel’s interruption.

“She calls them lucky guesses. All I’ll say is it sure seems like that woman has a lot of luck.” Joel’s breath catches listening to Tommy’s explanation, his mind immediately going back to that day he met her, how she had known Sarah’s name.

“Listen, the bottom line is, she’s done nothing but good for Jackson with that shop of hers. Whatever she is, she’s a good one. But, brother, I wouldn’t go calling after her.” Joel’s brow furrows, head tilting at his brother.

“I wasn’t– even if I was– why shouldn’t I?” Tommy smirks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Because while the women of Jackson call her a witch, the men of Jackson just call her a heartbreaker.”

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller au #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #tlou

1K notes · View notes

writing-for-marvel · 6 months

Text

Day 7: Striptease

Mob!Bucky's Kinktober Honeymoon

Mob!Bucky Barnes × Wife!Reader

Summary: Bucky gets turned on while you try on your new designer clothes.

Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, fingering, ruined orgasm, Bucky speaking Romanian & being obsessed with his wife (yes, those are warnings 👀)

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: this isn’t a typical striptease but I wasn’t sure what else to call this - it’s more of a sexy try on haul with smut. Dividers by me, please do not use. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

💋 Join my Kinktober Taglist 💋

Kinktober Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Library | Ko-fi

“What do you think?” You ask your husband who has perched himself at the end of the luxuriously large king bed in your rented villa.

His nose is in his phone, you suspect checking on business back home even though he promised you he wouldn’t work a single minute while on your honeymoon. But as soon as he looks up, his attention switches solely to you, forgetting all about whatever had been distracting him on the device.

One of the many wedding presents Bucky had given to you was a new closet full of custom designer clothes, including that of a swimsuit collection specifically for your European summer honeymoon.

The way Bucky’s eyes widen, desire and lust mixing like twin flames in his ocean blue eyes, makes you melt.

He’s seen you naked basically every day since you began dating, watched your face contort in pure ecstasy more times than you could possibly count, and yet, even now, more than two years into your relationship, he still looks at you like you’re the most desirable woman on the face of the earth. That there is simply no one else capable of captivating his attention in the way you do.

Bucky stands from the edge of the bed, taking slow steps towards you, his cerulean eyes never once leaving your body - not even blinking.

“Uluitoare [breathtaking].” You are still working on improving your Romanian, but by the astonished tone of his voice and the unwavering gaze settled on your body, you’re fairly sure you understand the sentiment.

“Nuh uh - no touching.” Smirking, you swat his hand away playfully when he reaches out to grasp your waist, performing a slow, alluring twirl to give him the perfect view of every angle. Once his eyes have roamed every inch of your frame, lingering at the shape of your ass and tits in your outfit, you lean forward, standing on your tiptoes, and speak lowly into his ear. “Let me put on a show for you.”

With a steady hand on his strapping chest, you press him backwards, pushing him onto the bed. His complete enthralment in your every movement makes confidence soar in your chest and gives you the courage to begin seductively stripping off your blouse button by button.

Your eyes are locked when the light material falls down your shoulders and onto the floor, a soft moan escapes his throat, his bottom lip curled behind his teeth. Even though you have no music to dance to, your hips sway to a rhythm as you unzip your skirt, making sure to provide Bucky the perfect view of your ass as that piece of clothing also drops to the ground.

In nothing but your expensive lingerie, which Bucky himself picked out, you saunter over to him and elicit a groan when you palm his rock hard cock through the material of his trousers.

“What should I try on for you first?” You ask, teasingly turning around and swaying your hips over the fabric of his pants. His growing erection becomes even more obvious as you start letting your hands wander over your own body, taunting him with the sight of your fingers dipping close to your core.

Bucky’s too caught up in the little show you’re putting on for him to even register the question you’ve asked him, but that doesn’t matter, you already know he’s going to lose his mind when he sees you in the sundress you’ve been eyeing off since the start of the season.

Leaving the confines of his warm body, you sway across the room to the rack of new clothes desperate for you to try on. You can feel Bucky’s eyes piercing through your back as you slip into the new dress, and even hear him swear under his breath when you turn around and show off the complete outfit.

“You’re the most gorgeous woman on the planet.” He comments in such an assured and sincere tone that you could never doubt he truly believes it.

Bucky pulls your body into him, so you stand between his spread legs. His fingers immediately toy with the thin material of your panties at the apex of your thighs, pulling the lingerie swiftly to the side and circles his middle finger lightly over your clit.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” The rough pads of his fingers feel delightful against your slick folds, but you ache to feel more of him, to be so full of him you don’t know where he ends and you begin.

As his fingers trace tantalisingly through your core, your own cup his strong, stubbled jaw and tilt his chin up so his piercing eyes meet yours once again. You take a beat to admire just how much adoration fills them when he gazes at you, before closing the small space and slotting your lips against his.

For as long as you live, you will never tire of the feeling of his kiss. Butterflies. Palpitations. Fireworks. Even if it’s just his lips connected with yours, your entire body responds.

“Bucky, please.” You beg into his mouth, needing more than just the teasing pad of his finger against your clit.

He suddenly thrusts two thick fingers all the way inside you, his rough palm flat against your throbbing clit as he quickly begins fucking you hard and fast, curling his fingers to drag over your g-spot.

“Fuck, just like that.” His palm smacks against your clit with each push of his hand, the pleasure so overwhelming, you’re forced to hold onto his tattooed bicep for fear that your legs will give way underneath you.

When Bucky starts sucking on your neck, sure to leave a hickey, and using his other hand to massage your breast over the dress, you know you’re done for.

Your fingers tangle in the curls of hair at the nape of his neck as you can feel your orgasm begin to ignite like a match… before all of a sudden you feel completely empty, clenching around nothing, and your incoming high dissipates like smoke into the atmosphere.

“Show me another piece.” Bucky requests before sucking your sweet arousal from his fingers with lips curling in a cocky smirk.

You’re sure Bucky can detect the disappointment on your features, but he simply squeezes your hips encouragingly, head inclining to the other garments you have yet to try on.

“How about a preview of what I’m gonna wear to dinner tonight.” You purr into his ear before taking a couple of steps back on shaky legs, trying to maintain the confidence in your demeanour that you had in your prior performance and give him a taste of his own medicine.

Your movements aren’t as smooth this time, but Bucky looks just as pleased. At this point you’re fairly sure it isn’t the fact that someone is performing for him that has him so aroused, it’s that you’re the one putting on the show.

The dress you had set aside for later is hanging in a garnet bag on the rack with all the other formal dresses Bucky paid for. Your body moves fluidly as you exchange one dress for the other, teasingly giving him only a sneak peak at your best assets, and stripping off your lingerie panties in the process.

“Wasn’t gonna wear these tonight anyway.” You place the lace in Bucky’s outstretched hand, which he takes eagerly before smelling your sweet arousal on them and stuffing them in his jacket pocket.

“We ain’t making it to the restaurant if you’re gonna be dressed like this.” Bucky’s hands travel down your sides, admiring every swell and dip of your figure in the tighter fitting dress. He’s practically drooling at this point. “Especially if you don’t wear any panties.” His fingers find your entrance again and as if he never stopped fingering you, you’re right back where you left off, teetering on the edge of pure bliss when this time he inserts three fingers.

The salacious squelch of each thrust is telling of just how wet you are. You grind down on his hand, hips bucking and twisting to find just that right angle where every single nerve is on fire.

“Be a good girl and cum for me - I know you want to.” That’s all you want, to be his good girl, his perfect wife, and give him everything he asks for, including all your orgasms.

And that’s exactly what you do.

Bucky doesn’t relent, fingering you and simultaneously stimulating your clit until your legs start quivering, you’re screaming his name, arching into his broad chest, tugging on his hair and walls fluttering around his fingers.

He looks up at you while you’re coming down from your high as if you hang the stars and the moon in the night sky - like you’re the sun his whole galaxy revolves around.

“Te iubesc [I love you].” Even though your mind is still catching up to reality, you’ve heard this Romanian saying far too often to forget what it means.

“Și eu te iubesc, James [I love you too].” You respond in an imperfect pronunciation, yet a genuinely affectionate smile blooms on Bucky’s face nonetheless. You can feel his smile grow when he places a gentle kiss against your lips.

“As sexy as you look with this dress on…” He starts, fiddling with the straps on your shoulders, trailing gentle kisses down your spine as he lets the soft material of the dress fall to a puddle at your feet. “I prefer you in nothing.”

💋 Join my Kinktober Taglist 💋

Mob!Bucky’s Kinktober Honeymoon Taglist: @tilltheendofthelinepal13 @kandis-mom @buggy14 @opheliastark @auntiegigi @alovecraft @cinnxbunny @zincxxx @cultofcarter @rose-alyssa @kaitlin013106 @wandas-gurlfri3nd @beautifulrare4leafclover @queenyamimarrero @littlerya @noobzandboobzandhooz @wanda2themax @lonelywolfheart @Kbananaclip14 @depressed-gays-of-marvel @ur--mommy @jollyfirebattrash @lauratang @casa-boiardi @raging-panda @nicoline1998enilocin @melsunshine @stinkerbelle007 @mememe7147 @happycat547 @matchat3a @Sirmeowertheruthless7 @inlovewithficnalmen @katiemarsblog @irienanicole @buckyisveryhot @littleravengirl @whyamireadingthis @vase-of-lilies @Mrsrogers77 @saltyshluts @Wwhitewolff @buckysdogtagss @mylastnamesyuh @alexandria-fandom @andth3ywereroommates @avalongreene-09 @sargentbarnxes @keira324 @cherryschaos @missusbarnes-rogers @cherriesnwinee @Ellieangelbee @Shirayukiuzukaze @goldylions @elacinnamoon @buckysdollx @mrsmischief209 @capsbestgirl77 @its-just-smut-haha @ironmansson29 @Slutforderekhale @otome-loves-what @jacesswifey @winterslove1917 @black-mistress-of-evil @buckyscumwhore @purple-vegan

735 notes · View notes

lunememes · 1 year

Text

🌙 * ― 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 ( a collection of various settings for drabbles or prompts, or both! )

001. a tattoo parlour, buzzing with machinery and walls lined with artwork . 002. a shopping mall, crowded and loud . 003. a cabin in the mountains, taking shelter from the snow storm. 004. an abandoned tea party, occupied with broken dolls . 005. the shooting range, empty casings clinking on the floor and sulphur in the air . 006. a music room, filled with melodies of an instrument . 007. an empty auto shop, hood of a car left open and quiet music coming through speakers . 008. a bright arcade, coins falling from machines and claws grabbing at soft toys . 009. the kennels, filled with barking dogs and excited companions . 010. a restaurant, where everyone is eerily quiet and staff are overly friendly . 011. a riding arena, with trained riders atop proud horses . 012. a mini golf course, sails of a windmill obscuring the path ahead . 013. a zoo, filled with an array of unique animals . 014. the docks of a bay, boats lining the decks . 015. a pond with ducks, seeking food . 016. a museum, displaying ancient bones and pottery of a history long ago . 017. a closed down prison, ghosts of violent history echoing in empty cells . 018. a quiet train station, lights overhead flickering and announcement board displaying errors . 019. the vast desert, scorching heat baring down at high noon . 020. the dark woods, filled with strange hanging symbols made of sticks . 021. a deep hole in the ground, covered by leaves and sticks . 022. a wishing fountain, base lined with copper coins of past wishes . 023. an abandoned picnic in an empty field, flask still warm with coffee . 024. a barn filled with hay and tools, old wood creaking in the wind . 025. a graveyard in the dead of night, wind howling through the trees . 026. a crumbling bridge above a raging river . 027. the refreshing waters of a lake, away from prying eyes . 028. the crossroads, in the middle of nowhere . 029. a cosy bonfire at summer camp, marshmallows roasting on the fire . 030. the top of a radio tower, with the perfect view of the surrounding area . 031. a lone phone box on a street corner . 032. a large elaborate temple dedicated to a deity, offerings still intact . 033. a drive-in movie theatre, cars empty and projector casting only light onto the screen . 034. a strange trail of breadcrumbs on a woodland path . 035. a haunted mansion, ancient paintings watching every footstep . 036. a decrepit mine located out in the hills, believed by locals to have a powerful curse cast upon it . 037. the edge of a cliff, overlooking the rough waves and distant sounds of approaching danger . 038. a road trip across country, music blaring through speakers . 039. a flower shop, filled with bouquets and a sweet aroma . 040. an airport in the early hours of the morning, deprived of sleep . 041. a train on its way to its destination, a sleeping passenger resting on a shoulder . 042. an abandoned shack filled with strange books of the occult and something mysterious bubbling on the stove . 043. an empty throne room, moonlight glimmering through tall windows . 044. an underwater tunnel in an aquarium, fish swimming overhead and sharks looming in the distance . 045. deep within unmarked cave located in the side of a mountain, lit only by a flare . 046. the dusty streets of a western town, watched by wary residents . 047. the back of a vast library, surrounded by books, when a black book falls from the highest shelf . 048. a room of an asylum, an abandoned camcorder left in the middle of the room . 049. the shores of an unknown beach, washed up from the ocean . 050. the deck of an unsteady ship, waves crashing against the haul and rain lashing down from dark clouds .

#setting prompts #rp meme #drabble prompts #rp memes #rp prompts #setting meme

1K notes · View notes

frannyzooey · 11 months

Text

Short Days, Long Nights: 8

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Explicit, grief

Series Masterlist

a/n: Thank you endlessly to @the-ginger-hedge-witch and @write-and-buried for their advice and reassurance on this one. ❤

The first time it happened, it was by accident.

Loath to leave your warmth; one hand fisted in the hair at the nape of your neck, the other one curled around your hip to guide your movements in your straddle on his lap. The afternoon sun spilled in through the windows, dust motes floating through the shafts of light as you rode him and when you came, you tipped your head back with a strained, breathless moan.

His eyes fixated on the image of your angelically erotic pose, he emptied himself inside you, filling you up until there was nothing left to give.

The next time was an accident too.

Finally ready to harvest some of the vegetables you’d been nurturing for months, you grasped the first stalk and pulled, brushing off the dirt delicately when it came free from the ground. You handed it to him, unadulterated pride shown clear on his face and his smile beamed so big you caught a glimpse of his rarely seen dimple.

Tears had already begun to water your vision, slipping free when you saw his smile and he stood to pull you up so he could wrap his arms around you in a tight, unrelenting hug. His thumbs and his mouth brushed away the hot trails on your cheeks and you feasted that night, both on your new found riches and each other.

Bellies full of fresh produce and celebrating your hard earned success, he fucked you on the living room floor, with your mouth open and pleading for him as your tailbone rubbed against the carpet with every thrust. His need more intense than usual, his groan was hoarse when he came faster than he could pull out; his eyesight fading black around the edges with a spill as endless as the praise he panted into your ear.

When he was done he stayed put, a comforting, solid weight on top of you and his lips peppered kisses along your hairline, the bridge of your nose, the corner of your mouth - everywhere he could reach.

The third time however, wasn’t.

The days too hot to do anything but swim, you hung onto his shoulders and pressed your soft lips against his own until he all but dragged you up to the bank of the river, covering you with his chilled, damp body. You begged him for it then, begged him to fill you up as you sobbed with fullness, your knees hitched high along his ribs. Your hands grasped the swell of his ass to push him in deeper, his own knees streaked in dirt after he gave you what you wanted and his spend was slick and hot where it leaked out, smearing on his stomach when you wound your legs around him to pull him down for a kiss.

You each knew the consequences of what you were doing. Neither of you acknowledged it though - you kept going because it felt good and right and with so little in the world that felt like that, you took what you could.

Summer months slipped by as you slowly explored the woods around you, checking the other cabins one by one. Untouched for years, they held caches of canned food and clothes, outdated sunscreen and furniture thick with dust. Moth bitten beach towels, an indoor herb garden turned greenhouse that had consumed half a kitchen. Rotted curtains, limp baseball hats, forgotten gardening gloves. A deflated inner tube that you brought back and filled up manually just to spend the day floating on the water.

One held a stash of wine that was so vast it took three trips to haul all of the bottles back to your own cabin, and though you knew absolutely nothing about wine, you couldn’t stop the excited yelp that escaped from your mouth when you found it.

Scavengers, you ignored the pictures on the walls as you raided room by room, taking whatever you liked. Making it through seven cabins in total, you covered miles of woods; your book collection doubled, every shed picked apart for useful tools and supplies.

Careful not to uncover the cabins more than you needed lest the structures be seen by anyone else, so far, you hadn’t had to worry about that. Joel still kept the traps up and running, still checked them every single day and locked up every night, but the immediate threat of another human being was starting to feel like a distant memory. As if time had paused when you found this cabin, the outside world disappearing when you first stepped off the path.

The weeks went by quickly in a hot, humid daze and every night ended the same: with you curled up next to him, your bodies sweating on top of the sheets.

–

You’d kill for a fan.

Not even asking for air conditioning because to be honest, you were never really a fan of artificially cooled air (too cold), you want a fan desperately. Just something to move the stagnant air around, to relieve the thick, damp press of humidity that coats your skin. It envelopes you, your shirt stuck to the small of your back and you pick at it, giving it a quick shake in an attempt to dry it out.

Joel is just as sweaty – his cotton shirt clinging to his back, dark with sweat along his spine and under his arms and you watch as the fabric molds and shifts over his muscles as he strong-arms the cabin door open. Stepping through into the shadows, his hand is bathed in light as it reaches back for you and pulls you into the dark depths, your flashlight ready.

“At least it’s a little less hot in here, I guess.” You kick a stack of faded, dust coated magazines on the floor and he sighs, setting his pack down.

“Yea,” he agrees, lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe his brow. “I’m gonna live in the water when we get back. Sleep outside, half submerged.”

“Ooh, can I join you?” you ask, wiggling your eyebrows and he huffs a quiet laugh behind you as you make your way into the kitchen.

The first place you check in every cabin, you pick apart the cabinets looking for food while he combs through the bathroom looking for first aid supplies and medicine. All finds to be stacked on the floor in the living room, the two of you make quick work of it, too hot to linger.

Rummaging through the dresser in the main bedroom, you check the sizes of socks and underwear – something you’re always in short supply of – and when you find a silky scrap of fabric buried beneath them, you pause. A more delicate piece of clothing than you’ve seen in a long time, your roughened hands caress the slippery negligee when you lift it from the drawer. The fabric catches on the pads of your fingers, the sensation making you frown and hesitating just for a moment while looking in the direction of the door, you fold it gently and put it directly in your bag, tucking it away.

He calls out to you when he’s done, and after dividing up the pile, your packs are substantially heavier when you start your walk back.

Leaning forward slightly under the weight, you feel sweat glide down the line of your neck and you wipe it away, grimacing.

“Do you ever think about what people would find if they raided your house?” you ask.

Every single time you enter a cabin, you think about it. You can’t remember what state you even left your place in: not your original one, nor your apartment in the QZ. You assume they have given the latter away to another person who needs it; the thought not bothering you at all.

He huffs, shaking his head. “A messy house, I guess.”

“Same,” you reply.

The moss below your feet muffling your steps, you each sit in your own head for a moment before you continue.

“Have you ever thought about going back? You know, to like, get stuff? Or to just…see it?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. I mean, it would be nice to have some pictures I guess, but other than that…I don’t think I would want to.”

“So you’ve never tried it?” you ask, looking over at him.

“No,” he replies, his eyebrows raising. “Have you?”

You shake your head. “I’ve thought about it, but I don’t really have anything there.” Your thumbs hook in the straps of your backpack, your eyes staying down. “I feel like it would be too sad, you know? Like, in my mind, I feel like I would want to stay, thinking of it as my home and a place I would be safe, but I know that’s not true anymore. It would be…depressing.”

He nods, understanding.

“Besides, I used to want to go back a lot more, but now I kinda…think of this as my new home. Everything I want is here.”

The confession slips out, the heat of the late afternoon muddling your thoughts and making you too tired to stop the words before you say them and as soon as you realize, you try to hide the vulnerability showing clear on your face by gesturing to the woods.

It’s quiet for a moment, and you sneak a look over at him to find him looking back at you. Sunlight plays across his features, catching on the ends of his dark curls lifted in the humidity and the corner of his mouth tilts up.

“Yea,” he agrees. “Me too.”

Reaching for your hand to squeeze it, your palm sticks to his, tacky with sweat, but he still holds tight when you lace your fingers together.

–

“Do you ever think about what people would find if they raided your house?”

His answer sounded indifferent at the time, but the thought bothered him more than he let on. It’s not so much the idea of his stuff being taken or rifled through because to be honest, he can’t even really remember what all was there.

It’s the space being invaded by a stranger. Sarah’s room, in particular.

Someone rifling through her drawers, or sitting down on her bed. Someone taking the things he gave her - the idea of it constricts his chest, and he frowns, methodically checking the traps one at a time, wanting to get it over with before going for a swim.

His dark curls stick to his forehead, his fingers pushing wearily through them with a scratch as he walks the perimeter of the cabin and her bedroom floats into his mind: the purple bedspread, the butterflies on the walls. The faded image is hazy around the edges and he’s not even sure he has it right, but the ache he feels is reminiscent of the one he felt briefly when you walked into the cabin the other day excited to show him something you pulled from the garden.

Your smile and enthusiasm reminds him so much of her sometimes it hurts.

The longer he stays here with you, the more it eats at him that he hasn’t told you about her yet. Never anything he wanted to share with anyone, he finds there is little that he doesn’t want to share with you now – save for this.

Of this, he hasn’t spoken about in ten years.

Of this, he still feels the weight of failure etched into his very bones.

Of this, it still threatens to drown him some days in grief, if not for the way he’s buried it all down deep.

Allowing himself to feel with you and slowly uncovering the pieces of himself that he had long since given up on, the burden of her memory weighs heavier on him every day that he’s here. It feels wrong that he hasn’t told you about her, as both a betrayal of her memory, but also of your trust.

He tugs on a trap, making sure the ropes are snug in place and still thinking about you, his long buried grief and anger at someone rifling through Sarah’s room transfers to you and your things. The bookshelf next to your bed crammed with dog eared books, the plants along the windowsill in the kitchen, the stack of ten year old gossip magazines that you keep next to the couch for when you want to laugh at the trivial matters people used to care so much about.

Your worn, cotton bedsheets decorated with delicate rosebuds.

He wonders if your home looked anything like the spaces you’ve set up in the cabin. A cozy warmth radiating from your scattered belongings, some people might be bothered by them but he likes it. Similar to his own house once upon a time, it makes the space feel lived in; warm, inviting.

The idea of someone finding this place and entering it, going through your things to take what they want – he knows it’s hypocritical to be upset about it, but a wave of rage pierces through his thoughts and he kneels, ignoring the call of the water to double check the trap in front of him.

He clenches his jaw; Sarah’s bedspread and your plants lingering in his mind.

–

“You okay?” you ask later that night, after glancing at his far away expression for the hundredth time. He’s been quiet since he got back, near silent during dinner and you can see the churning waters of his mind under the surface of his eyes.

“Yea, I’m fine.” He presses a quick kiss to your forehead, and leaves it at that.

He still seems distracted when he comes to bed, grabbing his book from the nightstand to sit propped against the headboard to read, and when you put your own book down and roll onto your side to close your eyes, he reaches to turn out the light and follows suit. He’s still for a while and then scoots closer, the warmth of his body felt from behind you as the bed dips slightly. His touch trails along the curve of your shoulder, following the length of your arm. There is no intention to it, nothing he’s initiating. A soothing, yet restless drag of his fingers along your skin and he’s wide awake, you can tell from the thrum of energy between your bodies in the dark.

You open your eyes, rolling to face him and reaching to touch the curve of his cheek.

“You okay?”

He takes in your face for a moment, his dark eyes drifting over your features. “I’ve been thinking about what you asked me earlier. About going back to see my old place.”

You shift, bending your arm to tuck it under your pillow. “You change your mind? You want to?”

“No,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t want to go back because…” he stalls, letting out a breath. His jaw shifts subtly, and you wait, watching his face.

“I had a daughter.”

The statement hangs suspended between the two of you, and not wanting to speak until you know for sure that he’s done, you stay silent.

“Her name was Sarah.” He frowns slightly when he says it out loud, like he’s in pain and his hand slips off your arm and down to rest in front of him on the bed. You follow it, placing your hand over his. “That’s who I would want a picture of.”

“You don’t have any?”

He shakes his head slowly, his gaze unfocused. He smiles ruefully in the dark. “There was this one she kept in her room - I can still see it. The two of us, my hand over her eyes just jokin’ around and the smile on her face is –' His voice falters for a moment, and he stops, clearing his throat. The sheen of his wet eyes glimmers in the darkness. “She had a killer smile. You would’ve loved it.”

“I bet I would have,” you reply softly.

His expression darkens, and your thumb sweeps across his skin. “I don’t think I could handle seeing her room, ya know?”

His eyes meet yours, open and honest. “That thing you were saying earlier, about people going through your house? I know they’ve probably done it to mine and I don’t – I don’t think I could take seeing her stuff like that. Scattered, or destroyed. Rotted.”

A tear slips free, sliding through the creases lining the outside of his eye. “I wanna preserve the memory of her in that room. Sitting on her bed, listening to music or doing her homework…I don’t wanna see it empty.”

The sight of him crying makes your own vision blur, and you squeeze your hand in reassurance.

“Of course,” you whisper. “God, of course you wouldn’t want to see that. I am so sorry I brought that up, Joel. I had no idea.”

“I don’t talk about her, so you wouldn’t know.”

His words are quiet, yet definitive and ridden with guilt and he clears his throat, letting out a deep, shaky breath. You stroke his temple with your thumb, and he lets his eyes close, focusing on your touch.

“How old was she, when she…” you don’t say the word, and he takes another breath, answering you.

“Fourteen.”

“How —,” you start, and then you stop yourself, giving him time to answer if he wants. He seems like he wants to, seems still agitated like there is something held inside that needs to come out and you wait, giving him time.

“She died…the day of the outbreak. I tried to get her from the house when everything went to shit and she — she got hurt. I was carryin’ her, because she couldn’t walk and then…the soldiers that were going around in all the cities? I begged ‘em not to do it, but they shot anyway and I couldn’t –”

Another tear slips free, darkening his pillow case and he closes his eyes for a moment with a frown before opening them again. “I couldn’t do anything. Nothin’ but hold her and beg my brother to help me.”

Realization hits you, your chest flooding with sorrow. “That’s the dream, isn’t it? When you call for Tommy.”

He nods, and you immediately reach for him, gathering him in your arms.

He comes willingly, seeking out your embrace and the collar of your sleep shirt dampens against your skin as you stroke the crown of his hair. He’s a near silent crier, deep breaths taken in the crook of your neck as his wet eyelashes brush over your skin and he lets everything run out; his hands clutching you tightly. His arms tightening around you, you lay there and soothe him, saying nothing while your mind processes what he told you.

You can’t imagine that type of pain.

Not only to not only lose a child, but in that way. No wonder he was so closed off.

The thing he loved the most - a kind of love you can’t even comprehend - violently taken from him the day the world ended and the path of the Joel Miller that came after sharpens, growing clearer in your mind. A brutal shell of a person, hardened by everything that’s happened.

You’re still thinking about it when he lifts his head, apologizing for getting your shirt wet.

“Hey,” you softly reprimand him, “don’t. You don’t — “ you start, and then his own words come to you. “You don’t gotta be tough here with me. I got you.”

He lifts the corner of his mouth at your impersonation of him, and you give him your own matching, small smile.

“I mean it.” Your face slips into something more solemn, and you cup his whiskered cheek in your hand. He chases the warmth of it, leaning into your touch. “Listen to me. You didn’t do nothing, okay?”

He meets your gaze with an intensity of his own, and you keep going.

“You said you didn’t do anything, and that’s not true, Joel. It’s not true.” He waits, and you continue in a hush. “You held her.”

His face softens, and another tear glides down his cheek.

“You carried her and held her and even though you were scared — I can’t imagine how scared you were — you tried to protect her and then you held her. You couldn’t stop what happened and it’s not your fault, Joel. You did the best you could do.”

“It wasn’t good enough.”

Your own tears well up and slide free, your hand making sure his attention is on you.

“It was, baby. It was.”

The endearment slips from your lips and he doesn’t question it, instead just looking at you for a moment before pushing forward to seek out your mouth with his own. You help him, pulling him in for a kiss as his plush, soft lips fit with yours, his mouth damp from his tears yet hungry for your taste and comfort.

You thread your fingers through his hair, tilting your mouth to deepen the kiss. “Tell me how to help.” Another kiss, another. “You want this? Want me?”

He nods, his nose brushing against yours and kisses you again, shifting to lay the weight of his body on top of yours. You make room for him between your thighs, your hands running down his back and the smooth, strong lines of it flex under your touch, a groan rumbling through his chest when you drag your nails lightly over his skin.

“You’re so sweet. You taste so good,” he breathes into you between kisses, his hand reaching down to tug at the waist of your sleep shorts and you help him, pushing them down and off. Reaching between your bodies and slipping your hand under the band of his briefs, you find the hardening, warm heft of him and give him a firm couple of strokes. His hips chase your fist as he thickens in your palm and he rocks himself against you a couple times before lifting his own hips to shove them down.

Unburdened, he gets hungrier, his hands helping yours as you tug at his shirt and then your own, the threadbare material of both tossed onto the floor. You want to feel every inch of him, pulling him down to you until he’s fit himself to your body, his skin feverishly flush against yours. His stiff cock fits along your slick seam, sliding through your folds when he rolls his hips against yours again, and again.

“I want you,” you tell him, guiding his mouth to your own. “Let me make you feel good. I want to make you feel better.”

“You do, honey. You do.” Moving his lips to the edge of your mouth and then over the curve of your jaw, he licks along the hollow just under your ear before pressing a kiss there. “You always make me feel good. You make everything feel good.”

Your touch becomes almost frantic at his admission, the need to carve out a space for him inside your chest or merge your bodies into one or take his face into your hands and tell him until he understands just how much you would do anything for him. How much he means to you, how much you owe him. How much you want to protect him just as much as he protects you.

He meets your urgency, his hands bracing themselves on the bed around your shoulders before he reaches down to line himself up, and you whine into his mouth when he notches himself against the dip of your entrance and slides in, filling you full.

He breaks the kiss, his hips already starting a weighted rock. “Fuck, honey. Fuck.”

“Oh my God.” He usually gives you more time than this to get ready for him, usually uses his fingers and his tongue, and a tight fit, your jaw clenches as he makes room for himself, burying deep. “Joel.”

His mouth covers yours with a groan, drinking down the whimpers you let out with every push of his hips forward and you swallow every one of his, every grunt, every push of hot, humid air onto your tongue. His bicep strains under your knee when he hooks his arm under your leg to pull it up, first one and then the other, and he’s got you spread so wide underneath him between his deep thrusts and his solid body that you cry out for him, digging your nails into his hips for purchase.

“You’re gonna make me come quick, honey. So quick –” he pants, his hips pounding into the cradle of your thighs. “And I don’t even care because you feel so fuckin’ good. So good.”

“Do it,” you encourage him, the words sliding into a moan. “I want it. I want you to come inside.”

“Yea?” he asks, his hand wrapping around your calve to tug your leg higher, resting it over his thick shoulder. Turning his head to the side, he presses a lingering kiss there, his breath washing over your skin and your mouth drops open at how deep he is. “You want it inside?”

“Please. Please,” you chant, helping him guide your other leg to rest on his shoulder and when he lets the weight of his body push you deeper into the mattress, you’re near bent in half, taking everything he needs to give. It’s a lot – too much, you’re going to feel it tomorrow – but you don’t care.

“I’m gonna – I gotta do it harder, honey, because I’m –” he spits out the words, groaning midway through when he feels you start to clamp down around him. “Christ, you’re so fuckin’ tight. So tight for me.”

“I’m gonna come, Joel,” you whine, the heat building between your hips flooding through your limbs and up through your breasts, where they press against his chest. Sweat glides between your bodies, and he moans louder at your admission, almost a growl of victory. “Make me come, I’m so close.”

The two of you move with single minded intensity; one of his hands fitting between your tailbone and the mattress to hit the angle just right, and your hips pushing up to meet his every punishing, weighted stroke down.

He’s so thick, and filling, and heavy, your cunt so slick as he pushes in again, and again, and again, his mouth open in a pant above you with your knees almost at your shoulders and when you come with a sob, he buries himself deeper than he ever has with a weighted grind and does the same.

The soft give of his belly jumps against yours, his throat stretched taut as he works in every last drop and when he finally relaxes over you, he’s gentle in his movements. His hands help your legs down – first one, then the other - and his mouth finds yours, giving you a kiss. Your legs find a home in a wind around his waist, your hold guiding him to lay on your chest and even though you could have killed for a fan earlier and still could, you keep him there.

You nose along his sweat damp hairline, pressing a kiss on his slick temple and content, the two of you lay in silence; the only sound your shared, heavy breathing.

His body melts on top of you, all taut agitation in his limbs gone as he pushes his arms underneath your back to hold you tight and you know he’s slipping into sleep by the way his breathing evens and slows under your palms.

He’s still snug inside you, but you make no effort to move him.

“Thank you for telling me about her,” you whisper to him, your fingers carding through his dark, unruly curls shot through with gray but you’re met with silence.

Unburdened, he’s already fast asleep.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller/you #joel miller/reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction

810 notes · View notes

winterrsun · 4 months

Text

I’m in charge

Negan x reader SMUT

18+ only, mdni

Warnings: degradation, mentions of torture, dom! Negan, mild exhibitionism, mild knife play, squirting, scary/ mean Negan (basically just his true personality, but no actual violence occurs in story)

Authors note: this is not only my first the walking dead fic but it is hands down the filthiest thing I’ve ever written, it and me are depraved. Hope you enjoy. Let me know if you want a part 2 because it’s low key already half written in my head….

Summary: Negan coerced reader to be his wife at The Sanctuary in exchange for leaving her people at Alexandria alone - but reader founds out they’ve also been holding Daryl prisoner and abusing him . When she goes to confront Negan it doesn’t quite go as planned and he quickly reminds her who’s in charge.

You stormed through The Sanctuary, up the stairs towards Negan’s office. A few people eyed you wearily as you basically pushed past them in the corridor, not even noticing as the conversation you’d had a few hours earlier rang fresh in your mind.

It was only recently that Negan had let you start making visits to Alexandria, even more recently that he’d permitted you to go alone. You’d been living at The Sanctuary as his ‘wife’ for nearly a year now, and you’d built up a surprising level of mutual trust in that time. Especially given you weren’t exactly there willingly. But he’d always taken a liking to you, ever since he first met your group that night outside the camper van.

You were disgusted and terrified of him, but at the same time even then you couldn’t deny a level of chemistry and physical attraction that streamed between you when you first locked eyes. It was what had allowed you to convince him to spare Glenn, you were sure of it.

Then whenever he and his saviours would visit Alexandria to collect their haul, he’d always make a point of seeking you out and starting conversation. Until one day he made his offer; that you go with them back to The Sanctuary and the community at Alexandria will be left alone, never having to split their supplies with The Saviours again. Holding an alliance with them that near ensured no other group would dare try to attack the community. It was an offer far too good to refuse, though Carol and Rick and Daryl had tried to convince you to.

It was hard at first, almost unbearable, missing your family and settling into a cold, strange new home that felt like a twisted cross between a shitty summer camp and a military academy. But you managed, like you always did. Negan’s likeness towards you only grew and it didn’t take long for you to become his wife. In fact, you’d be lying if you didn’t admit it had made life more bearable. Both for the luxurious living quarters and the somewhat weird sisterhood type friendship you’d struck with the other wives. And yeah, the sex was pretty damn good too.

Yes, things were really not as bad as you’d expected they would turn out for you here, especially since you started visiting Alexandria and your family. You’d made the trip this morning, taking the drive filled with the usual joyful high of anticipation you got at the prospect of seeing everyone. Except not everyone was there when you arrived.

You didn’t notice at first; why would the absence of one individual jump out at you immediately? But you did notice the way everyone behaved, it was different. They seemed…sad, and nervous. It didn’t take long for Carol to ask the question that shattered the glass for you.

“Have you seen him? How is he?”

“Who?” You asked, heart beat fast increasing at the unease of the situation. You glanced around and clocked Rick and Carl, Glenn was with Maggie hushing Hershel. You didn’t see Daryl anywhere and knew before Carol’s answer left her lips.

“Daryl, they’ve had him for weeks. He’s being held at The Sanctuary. Nobody even knows if he’s still alive, we haven’t heard anything for at least a week.”

After gathering what more information you could you fast turned on your heels and commenced your mission you were closing in on now; confronting Negan immediately. You’d all but left in a cloud of dust to the cries of “be careful” from your friends and family.

But what did you care about being careful? The Saviours weren’t some terrifying, unknown threat anymore. They were your home now. Negan was technically your ‘husband’ for Christ’s sake. And he had been imprisoning and possibly torturing one of your best friends right under your nose for weeks without telling you a thing. Needless to say, you were beyond pissed.

That feeling of outrage was what fuelled your actions as you flung open the door to Negan’s office, hardly registering the dozen or so saviours sat around the conference style table. Negan was standing when you entered, at the far side of the table from where you stood, and he and every other person in the room immediately turned their heads to look in your direction at your loud entrance.

You didn’t hesitate to march across the room, around the table, up to Negan. “You want to explain to me what the FUCK is going on with Daryl and WHY you didn’t tell me he’s here?” You demanded. You were panting slightly both from the rushed journey you’d made up to the office and from the angry adrenaline currently pumping through your body.

Negan remained silent for a few moments before he answered you in a dangerously low tone. “Sorry doll, did you not notice I’m in the middle of a meeting?”

You stupidly continued “I don’t give a fuck about a fucking meeting, Negan. I want answers now. I get to Alexandria to find my friends and family distraught and they tell me you’re holding Daryl here prisoner. Starving him and beating him, how could you fucking do this? You better start explaining!”

You realised you’d gone too far before you’d actually finished the last word. You felt, more so than heard, Simon scoff somewhere to your left. For the first time since you’d walked in you began to feel self conscious of all the eyes in the room that were now darting between Negan and yourself. He smirked a little, and slowly turned to look at his followers, as if daring them to react to your boldness. His eyes met yours again, as he started to speak in a tone that was downright scary this time.

“You don’t get to fucking demand answers of me. You don’t get to demand anything. Don’t you dare forget your real place here”.

You looked down, at a loss for words finally, and softly bit your lower lip. You’d fucking done it now. Maybe he’d let you leave quietly if you acted apologetic and submissive now. Yeah, right.

He forcefully grabbed your jaw and yanked your head upwards so you’d look up at him again, his finger tips pressing in harder than necessary. “You look at me when I talk to you. You think you can barge in here, act all tough and bratty in front of my soldiers. Fucking think again.” Your eyes glanced sideways and briefly met Dwight’s, and Negan’s gripped on you tightened even further. “Don’t look over there, look at me. Don’t take your fucking eyes off me. You made this choice and now you will have to be on the receiving end of one loud wake up call. Don’t for a second think that my fondness for you means you have ANY authority here, you do NOT!”

You jumped as he yelled the last words, and your legs began to tremble as you looked up at him, neck and jaw beginning to ache.

“Now my men are gonna think that you think you can run circles around me. I can’t fucking have that. So we’re going to have to show them, and remind you, who exactly is in charge here. Get on your fucking knees, now.”

You slowly lowered yourself one leg at a time onto your knees, while he maintained his unrelenting grip on your lower jaw. It hurt your neck even more to look up at him from this angle, but you didn’t dare break eye contact.

“Open your mouth” he commanded. You did so immediately, and he did something he’d never done before. He spat right into your mouth.

You felt shameful and disgusted as the wet deposit landed on your tongue, but also the tell tale sign of heat and excitement began to prickle your body at this lewd act. You didn’t move, knowing better than to act without instruction.

A few second later, he uttered one more word; “swallow”. And you did, feeling the cold liquid run down your throat before blinking up at him.

His eyes softened, just a tiny bit, before they resumed their darkness. “Unzip my fly” he instructed next.

Fighting the urge to glance at your audience, you began to reach your hands towards him. Your heart pounding against your chest and in your eye drums. Your fingers softly brushed the fabric of his pants before he broke, and swatted them away motioning for you to get up.

“We don’t have time for any more of this now, we’ve got real shit to deal with” he said. You felt relief wash through you at the prospect of this almost being over. “Wait for me in your room, go straight there now” he instructed. Maybe not so over just yet.

“Yes, sir” you replied timidly. The first time you’d spoken since the dynamic shift has happened between you, and your tone of voice couldn’t have changed more.

You quickly exited the room with your head down and your cheeks burning red, tears stinging your eyes that you refused to let fall out until you made it back to your room.

It had been over an hour, but you hadn’t done much other than alternate between nervously pace around your room and sit on your bed staring at the door. You hadn’t really seen him like that before with you. It reminded you, shudderingly, of how he first treated your group when you met him. You cast your mind back to Abraham and were overwhelmed with dread. You had forgotten just how dangerous the man you lived with was. You supposed it was a self preservation effort; you knew you had to play the role of his wife regardless, so it was easier to live in denial and try to make the most of it. You felt shameful about that now, it was selfish and dumb.

You wondered if he’d actually hurt you. Maybe he’d throw you in the cell with Daryl. At least then you’d get to see Daryl. God you couldn’t stop thinking about him. On the way back to The Sanctuary your mind had more been preoccupied with being pissed off at Negan concealing this from you than actually worrying about Daryl’s safety. Yeah, Carol said they’d beaten him but you knew Daryl could take a bit of roughing up, and figured no real harm would have been done to him. But now you weren’t sure at all.

You’d become a nervous wreck by the time two sharp knocks were heard on the other side of your door. You hurried over and opened it, to find Negan standing on the other side. Eyebrows raised at you.

“I take it you’ve had some time to mull things over, anything you’d like to fucking to say to me?” He said.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your meeting Negan” you mumbled, eyes on the floor.

He smirked slightly, before saying “yeah, you better be. I’m real fucking disappointed in you, doll. We have something special, I’ll admit, but that doesn’t mean you forget who I am. I’m the boss, you respect and obey me, no questions asked.” You stared at him, frozen, while he went on. “The fact you think you can demand answers of me at all is a problem, but the fact you felt it acceptable to do it in front of my Saviours tells me you need a serious lesson to remind you of your place.”

You gulped, and started to try and plea your case. “I’m sorry Negan, I really am. I know my place here, I was blinded by concern for Daryl; he’s my family!”. You can tell it’s falling on deaf ears as his expression remains unchanged; his mind set. You wondered with terror what you’d been trying to keep out of your mind for the last hour; would he use the iron on you? Surely not on your face, he wouldn’t want to ruin his own viewing pleasure, but what’s to stop him maiming something like your arm?

Tears started to fall down your face, and he finally moved towards you further. “Oh baby doll” you gained an ounce of hope that he’s softening, “don’t start crying already, we haven’t even gotten started”.

The hope vanishes and your insides clenched in fear. “Are you going to hurt me?” You whispered.

“Not badly,” he said, “not in any way I know you can’t take baby girl”.

His tone edged into a territory you were more familiar with, and you raised an eyebrow tentatively. He was teasing you for sure, and now you were less terrified about the possibility of a truly terrible punishment. Well, one that would cause real lasting physical harm anyway. He slowly raised his arm and cupped your face, tilting it up towards his.

“You’re going to do exactly as I say, and show me what a good girl you can be,” he said steadily, and you gave him a small nod. “You gotta earn back my trust, and it isn’t going to be fucking easy.”

His hand slid down your décolletage, around your shoulder and landed on your waist. You couldn’t help but lean into it the tiniest bit, and noticed a small bubble of anticipation forming in your stomach.

That was followed by a twinge of guilt and sadness as you once again remembered Daryl. But you knew you had to face reality, the only way for you to have any hope of helping Daryl is to win back favour with Negan. You had to perform for him now, exactly how he wants. And if there was a small part of you that might enjoy some parts of what’s about to happen, well, that seemed like a small bonus you earned to slightly counter balance from the trauma of your life for the last however many years.

Negan gave your waist a squeeze and stepped back, drinking in your appearance. You were still dressed for this morning’s Alexandria visit; tight black jeans, a grey tank top and black laced up boots. You never left the compound in any shoes other than heavy boots that could kick in a walker skull if needed.

“Strip down to your underwear” he commanded softly, and you tried to make hasty work of your shoelaces, and not look too awkward hoisting them off. Next your hands shot to your pants button.

“No need to rush this part so much” he directed, and you immediately slowed down your efforts as you pulled your jeans down your legs, trying to bend over in attractive an angle as possible.

You made eye contact with him as you lifted your top over your head, and he licked his bottom lip slightly as his eyes glint. You then stand still, feeling a little awkward with him fully clothed and you in your worn out bra and cotton panties, staring at you like a lion sizing up its prey.

You know he likes to be the one to remove your next items of apparel, and sure enough he moved towards you and reached around to the back of your waist. He flicked open your bra with one hand and lets it drop to the floor.

Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small silver knife with a smirk. Your heart pounded against your now exposed chest. He ran the cool metal blade along your side and you shivered at its touch on your hot skin.

He moved swiftly and the sound of fabric cutting cleanly was heard before your panties drop to the floor.

“Mmmmmmm” he groaned in appreciation at your now fully naked form. “Well go on, do a little twirl for me” he instructed. You spun around, feeling like a doll in a music box on display. As you returned to face him, he raised his eyebrows indicating you to continue, and as you rotated back around again he stopped you with a hand on your shoulder, back now to him.

You should have known he’d want to check out your ass, he loved worshipping it. But this wasn’t about being worshipped. He gently pushed you in the back so you began to move over to the bed with small footsteps, stopping just in front of it.

“Bend over, hands on the mattress” he instructed, and you leaned forward precariously while he added “feet further apart doll”.

You felt a burn of humiliation at the vulnerable position you were in, legs and cheeks spread open, presented in front of him. You flinched slightly at the touch of his fingers on your bum cheeks. He caressed them lightly, before delivering a sharp slap to your right cheek.

“Alright, let’s get this part over with” Negan said with a slight sigh, and you heard movement behind you, the sounds of what you were sure was him unbuckling his belt. You knew better than to look around and confirm your theory, so instead looked down at your hands and tried to steady your increasingly rapid breathing.

Further confirmation was given to you at the sound of leather on skin, as he warmed up a practise tap in his palm. Then came a burning flash of pain across your backside, and you couldn’t help but yelp.

“We’ll do ten, count me down doll” he murmured to you, and you whimpered in protest before you could stop yourself.

He tutted sympathetically, “I know baby girl, but you can take it. It’ll push your limits, but I have to teach you a real lesson here.” You nod reluctantly. “I told you to count, didn’t I?” He added in a more menacing tone.

Immediately you stuttered out the word “ten!”

You counted down each painful lash, picturing the sight of your ass covered in red marks, hoping that none of them had broken skin. Shamefully, you noticed each strike delivered an underlying trace of pleasure mingled with the pain. You were sure Negan knew it too.

As you rounded out on “T-two!” With a tear rolling down your face onto the sheets below, Negan paused. You dare a glance behind you and noticed he’s bent down, examining his work. You felt his breath fan over your most private spot, and realised he wasn’t looking at your bruised up ass; he’s staring at your pussy.

You felt the smooth leather of his belt suddenly invade your slit, and retreat just as suddenly. Then it appeared in front of your face as Negan narrated “fucking glistening, you filthy girl” with a chuckle.

Negan then delivered the final blow, directly to your pussy this time, landing square on your clit, and you let out a scream. You weren’t even sure whether it was more a scream of pleasure or pain at this point.

Negan cleared his throat pointedly and you realised you missed the final count. “One” you sighed out, before your trembling arms finally gave way and you slumped your upper body onto the mattress. Your legs started to follow and you bent your knees towards the ground, but Negan’s arm scooped under your waist and held your hips up, letting out a “not so fast doll” as he did.

You were now face down on the bed, with your feet still on the ground spread apart, and your backside more on display in the air than ever. When he was sure your legs are steady again, Negan released your hips and you felt more than heard him sink to his knees behind you.

“You took your punishment well baby girl,” he murmured, “now I’ll help make you feel better” he finished before plunging his face in between your legs.

He motorboated your cheeks before taking his hands and spreading them apart, and you felt his wet tongue land where you needed it the most. You moaned and leant back into him as he lapped at your pussy, eating you like a depraved man. His tongue flicked downwards at your clit, which stung just slightly after the belt slap he’d administered just minutes ago. He suckled at your sensitive nub and you let out a loud moan. You could already feel pleasure building towards climax after the state he’d riled you up into. His tongue lazily dragged back up away from your clit, and didn’t stop until it traveled all the way up past your pussy. He quickly replaced it with his finger sliding in past your slit and you immediately pushed back agreeably against the welcome entrance inside you.

You let out a gasp of surprise as his tongue found its new destination, one that he’d never been before - nor had anyone for that matter. He delicately licked your puckered asshole and you marveled at the new sensation, while two fingers now formed a steady rhythm pumping in and out of your pussy. You’d never felt anything like it, and as his tongue got braver, starting to push itself inside your tight hole, you fell into a continuous flow of moans and pleas while softly rocking into his rhythm.

You thought you were already in an unbeatable state of pleasure when his thumb began to rub circles around your clit, and you grasped helplessly at the sheets beneath you. While you knew your orgasm was still building and approaching, you felt so good it was like you were already coming. Yet you felt the feeling continue to build, and you knew that no matter what you didn’t want it to stop.

“Fuck! Yes, Negan, oh please” you sang out.

His tongue danced around and inside your asshole while his fingers mercilessly fucked you, and his thumb circled your clit faster and faster. Your gut clenched and you cried out, reaching a peak like no other you’d ever experienced. Suddenly, too late to react, you felt a secondary feeling like you were about to pee. And then it all happened, you screamed in overwhelming pleasure while fluid broke out of your body and gushed down Negan’s hand. You swore you actually saw stars for a moment and not once did Negan’s actions pause.

You heard him let out an animalistic growl from behind you as you soaked his fingers and he finally withdrew his face from your ass cheeks. As your high came down he continued to pound into your pussy and your legs started to buckle, your energy fast fading.

“Negan, I can’t, no more” you let out softly, desperation in your voice.

He chuckled, delivering two final harsh thrusts of his fingers before pulling them out.

You bathed in the warm, hazy feeling that tingled throughout your body post orgasm, letting yourself lean into the drunk sensation it gave you for a moment.

“Turn around doll,” he instructed. Shakily you pushed yourself up on your elbows and turned so you were sat up watching him, while he stood up straight before you. He looked you in the eyes and licked every one of his fingers clean, slurping up your juice that had coated his entire hand and soaked his sleeve.

Any embarrassment you were at risk of feeling from having squirted for the first time in your life vanished when you realised how much he evidently loved it. He stopped before he got to his pinky and now brought his hand to your mouth. He pressed his finger to your lips and you opened up to let him in, sucking your own juices off him and noting the tangy taste on your tongue.

“Fuck, you did so good baby girl” he praised, stroking your hair with his other hand.

You were too exhausted to reply at this point, and he seemed to pick up on that. Finally feeling satisfied with his punishment, he smiled at you sympathetically. “Time for you to get some rest I think” he murmured, guiding you into the bed as your eyelids felt heavy already.

You slowly laid your head down onto the pillow as he guided you encouragingly, and let your eyes flutter closed. In that moment, you couldn’t remember anything at all that had happened that day. But it would all come back to you in the morning.

#Negan smith #the walking dead #Negan smith smut #Negan smut #Negan x reader #negan x reader smut #Negan filth #the walking dead smut #daryl dixon #twd daryl #twd negan #the walking dead negan #negan fanfiction #negan x you

379 notes · View notes

hellenhighwater · 3 months

Note

Ooh, The Last Sequoia you're working on is really evocative for me. Part of my work two summers ago was helping with fuels reduction in a seqouia grove. 5 years after a hot fire killed more than half that grove. And months after the grove 10 miles away was saved from a big fire due to fuels reduction efforts the year before. I'm applying for a Masters program where I might be working on forest fire ecology... This is just to say that your painting isn't even done and it's making me Feel Things.

Thank you! I was thinking about this particular poem when I was working on it, it's stuck with me for years.

They will soon be down

To one, but he still will be For a little while still will be stopping

The flakes in the air with a look, Surrounding himself with the silence Of whitening snarls. Let him eat The last red meal of the condemned

To extinction, tearing the guts

From an elk. Yet that is not enough For me. I would have him eat

The heart, and from it, have an idea Stream into his gnarling head That he no longer has a thing To lose, and so can walk

Out into the open, in the full

Pale of the sub-Arctic sun Where a single spruce tree is dying

Higher and higher. Let him climb it With all his meanness and strength. Lord, we have come to the end Of this kind of vision of heaven,

As the sky breaks open

Its fans around him and shimmers And into its northern gates he rises

Snarling complete in the joy of a weasel With an elk’s horned heart in his stomach Looking straight into the eternal Blue, where he hauls his kind. I would have it all

My way: at the top of that tree I place

The New World’s last eagle Hunched in mangy feathers giving

Up on the theory of flight. Dear God of the wildness of poetry, let them mate To the death in the rotten branches, Let the tree sway and burst into flame

And mingle them, crackling with feathers,

In crownfire. Let something come Of it something gigantic legendary

Rise beyond reason over hills Of ice screaming that it cannot die, That it has come back, this time On wings, and will spare no earthly thing:

That it will hover, made purely of northern

Lights, at dusk and fall On men building roads: will perch

On the moose’s horn like a falcon Riding into battle into holy war against Screaming railroad crews: will pull Whole traplines like fibres from the snow

In the long-jawed night of fur trappers.

But, small, filthy, unwinged, You will soon be crouching

Alone, with maybe some dim racial notion Of being the last, but none of how much Your unnoticed going will mean: How much the timid poem needs

The mindless explosion of your rage,

The glutton’s internal fire the elk’s Heart in the belly, sprouting wings,

The pact of the “blind swallowing Thing,” with himself, to eat The world, and not to be driven off it Until it is gone, even if it takes

Forever. I take you as you are

And make of you what I will, Skunk-bear, carcajou, bloodthirsty

Non-survivor.

Lord, let me die but not die

Out.

James Dickey, “For the Last Wolverine” from The Whole Motion: Collected Poems 1945-1992.

166 notes · View notes

petrichorium · 1 year

Text

sun glinting off the water’s surface, broken by a too-large tail. the roar of pouring rain upon the roiling sea. a haunting song that drifts in on the tide. the sun’s light blotted out by the churning clouds of a sudden storm. glowing eyes peering out through inky depths

this is the start of mermay.

hello all, you've stumbled across the teahouse server's mermay collab!!! the teahouse is a multifandom discord server run by myself and @sipsteainanxiety for authors, artists, and readers alike, and everything here was created in collaboration between the members ♥️ we're so excited to share our writing with you! under the cut is a collection of fics that'll come out over the course of may. many smaller unplanned works will be posted as well and added to the miscellaneous category below! happy mermay to everyone!!! hope you enjoy ♥️

𝚖 𝚒 𝚜 𝚌 𝚎 𝚕 𝚕 𝚊 𝚗 𝚎 𝚘 𝚞 𝚜 . . .

My Home Is The Sea (But You Are The Sun That Guides Me) mermaid!thoma x reader by @auraxins

Harbor Rose cove holden x mermaid!reader by @shibaraki

Warm, Soft mermaid!bakugou katsuki x reader by @petrichorium

A Fish Out Of Water mermaid!miya atsumu x reader by @shibaraki

Amphitrite mermaid!uraraka ochako x reader by @shibaraki

Apotheosis scaramouche x mermaid!reader by @auraxins

𝚙 𝚛 𝚘 𝚖 𝚙 𝚝 𝚌 𝚑 𝚊 𝚕 𝚕 𝚎 𝚗 𝚐 𝚎 𝚜 . . .

sharp teeth grazing deftly against soft skin with millions knives by @namodawrites

this is… food? for me? i can’t eat this and a cloud of blood billowing from a thrashing creature with choso by @shibaraki

If Tides Could Speak (They'd Call You Home) by @shibaraki {mature} an unlikely hero comes in the form of a barbarian. your stolen pelt is returned by his hand—but for a selkie that is more than simple kindness. it is a proposal.

bakugou katsuki x reader

accidental marriage ✧ fantasy au ✧ falling in love

“here,” he thrusts the pelt into your arms. you scramble and clutch it to your front. something inside you shifts. “this is yours, right? we took it during the raid”.

you’re frozen to the spot, mouth gaping around words that won’t come. bakugo frowns, the party members behind him glancing at each other and shrugging when they find no answer to your silence.

“Well?” he demands, embarrassment staining his ears pink.

You wet your lips, breath shaken. “Bakugo. Do you understand the significance of what you just did?”

read here

Something in the Water by @andypantsx3 {mature} as a future marine biologist, you’ve scored big on your final internship: a summer in the tropics, researching the waters off the coast of a lush, sunny island. but what you thought would be all beach days and piña coladas turns out to be the revelation of a lifetime when you haul in a handsome merprince, and discover not everything in these waters is quite as it seems.

todoroki shouto x reader

interspecies relationship ✧ mating rituals ✧ case fic

the merman’s gaze slowly trailed down your body and you fought back a strange wave of embarrassment. his fingers flexed on your ankle, those claws rasping sweetly, dangerously over the thin skin there. he pulled your leg out a little bit like he was inspecting it.

“how strange,” he murmured, his tone going soft.

you didn’t know what to think, just stared at him as his gaze roved over the bare skin of your thigh in your sea-soaked shorts.

read here

Blood in the Water by @petrichorium {explicit} in which jade leech is hungry for something only you can give him and, because he's jade leech, has a roundabout way of asking for it.

jade leech x reader

period sex ✧ established relationship ✧ pwp

“i can smell it,” jade says hazily.

“wh—what?”

“it’s… maddening. all-consuming. it takes everything in me to remain civil when you’re dry but then you bathe and it becomes agony.” his eyes seem glazed over, a look that reminds you of his erratic other half and has you feeling a little like a butterfly pinned under glass—or maybe like you’ve been carefully placed in one of his beloved terrariums. his chest heaves with a long, slow inhale. clawed fingers grip harder at the flesh of your thighs and he moves closer, lifting your knee to rest atop his shoulder. when he speaks it’s a murmur, and you wonder if you’re meant to have heard at all. “blood in the water. all of my instincts searching for the prey, writhing and helpless, ripe for the taking.”

posting: to be determined

What the Water Gave Me by @shibaraki {mature} when your sailboat is caught in a vicious storm you are saved by a whale sized mer that cannot keep his curiosity—nor his affections—at bay.

midoriya izuku x reader

courting behaviors ✧ modern fantasy ✧ macro/micro

it's a mer. it must be. mer sightings are incredibly rare— rare enough that tourists in your port town still call them myths. you’re in the palm of a legend. a giant one at that.

what you know to be the mer’s thumb passes over you cautiously. you flinch despite his obvious attempt at telegraphing the movement. to someone your size it still happens a little too fast. the sinew in your neck hurts, wrung with tension as the thumb stops an inch short of your crown. seconds elapse. there’s a light pressure, liquid streaming down your face, a back and forth motion, a low warbling.

the mer is petting you.

read here

My Life, My Lover, My Lady (Is the Sea) by @odieoats {explicit} your underwater home becomes collateral damage in a war waged by the humans above you—and you aren’t going to let the loudmouthed pirate captain ever forget it.

bakugou katsuki x reader

enemies to lovers ✧ pirates ✧ language barriers

“you think i don’t like books?” bakugou leers, snatching the soggy tome from your hand. the pages stick to your fingertips for just a second as he pries the book away. “just ‘cause i ain’t a fuckin’ philosopher, doesn’t mean i’m a dumbass.”

posting: to be determined

Pharos by @auraxins {mature} a sailor by nature, you’re called to the seas. when you end up stranded on an island with an ancient lighthouse, you expect the act of fixing it to bring you help—not to leave you stuck with the human vessel of an equally ancient sea god who is just as clueless on how to escape.

chuuya nakahara x reader

oceanic eldritch deity au ✧ mutual pining ✧ strangers to lovers

upon the beach stands a man.

unremarkable in stature, yet with an aura surrounding him that fills you with a strange sort of dread deep in the pit of your stomach.

“who are you?” you call. “what business have you here?”

“you don't know?” barks the man, incredulousness in his tone. “you summoned me here.”“i fixed the lighthouse,” you correct. “i did not summon anything.”

read here

Don't Touch the Glass by @shibaraki {mature} merfolk are otherworldly creatures that fall victim to human greed all too often. your team happens upon an abandoned aquatic theatre housing a single converted shipping container full of water — inside it is an adult siren, left behind to die.

shinsou hitoshi x reader

recovery ✧ interspecies relationship ✧ strangers to lovers

you creep onto the platform and lean carefully against the railing, scanning the area. the surface is covered in dense scum. you barely make out a silhouette in the tank, suspended lifelessly. their body twitches as the metal creaks.

instinct puppets your limbs as you stumble back. a shout comes from the doorway. your eyes squeeze shut to the sudden splash of water, narrowly missing the clawed hand hooked in the treads. attached is a thin arm, gauzy fins protruding from the wrist upheld by chitinous spines.

a siren.

posting: to be determined

An Itch to Scratch by @coopigeoncoo {explicit} kirishima eijiro is everything you never thought you’d find when you packed up and moved to a dilapidated fishing town. he was handsome, funny, and kind; the sort of man who took your breath away.

and that might actually be a bit of a problem.

kirishima eijirou x reader

medical issues ✧ interspecies relationship ✧ practical jokes

"good girl," eijiro praised, his hands like a vice on your hips as he pulled away from your mouth with a satisfied grin. you returned his smile with one of your own; the vibrant joy that had churned in your belly unfurled throughout your body, leaving you feeling breathless and lightheaded.

"eiji," you gasped, eyes widening in panic as your lungs seemed to seize in your chest. "i- can't breathe!"

read here

Hidden in the Sand by @smashboxgirl26 {mature} seeing your face again wasn’t something he’d ever expected: though you don’t normally think about seeing your dead childhood friend as a mermaid.

bakugou katsuki x reader

pro hero au ✧ childhood friends ✧ angst

the face it bore was familiar: with rosy cheeks from the cold, the same eyes he’d known ever since he was a child, hair curled around her face as if it were the frame of a painting.

the resemblance was uncanny. he knew her.

it all hit him so suddenly: the late nights spent under the stars, running around the forest barefoot, sneaking in through the window at night, getting drenched from the hose; secrets, stories, lies — they all came back as easily as he’d repressed them all those years ago.

when she’d lost herself to the sea and left him forever.

posting: to be determined

Rises The Moon by @petrichorium {mature} in which you find yourself torn between your dear friend, the village's strongest protector... and the very creature he's sworn to hunt, who is determined to take you as his mate.

kokushibo x reader (ft. gyoumei)

interspecies relationship ✧ courting rituals ✧ love triangle

The boat sways.

At first it doesn't faze you—like a large wave, nothing more. But then you’re rising up and the wood is dipping beneath your feet and your head snaps down to find a very large, very tripled set of bright orange eyes right in front of your face, and you’re falling.

The boat tilts entirely; you scramble for the edge of it, mindless, stupid panic gripping you with nothing in your brain except how utterly foolish it was to come out into the middle of the bay to search for an apex predator in a boat barely half its size. The water is so icy that you gasp and inhale on contact, as it surges over your head and you’re plunged into cold, endless black. Those claws find your waist and you know two things with grave certainty: it’s only been playing with its food, and you’re going to be dragged under and torn apart.

posting: to be determined

In the Eyes of the Tide by @namodawrites {teen} hoping for a quieter life, you uproot your life in the city in favor of a quaint, coastal town. but as the seasons flip, you discover there's more to it—and your new friend, oogami banri—than meets the eye.

oogami banri x reader

secret identity ✧ au ✧ friends to lovers

“oogami-san?” you resist the urge to press your ear against the door. “are you alright in there?”

his tone comes back, muffled but cheery. “no problem! don’t worry about me—those shrimp are probably ready to take out of the water by now. would you mind putting them in the ice bath for me?”

there’s a feeling in the back of your mind, coaxing you, tempting your hand to reach for the door. but you’d rather jump into the ocean on a stormy day than barge in banri in his own bathroom, and you take a deliberate step back, staring at the blank canvas of the door.

“yeah,” you say, sounding unsure even to your own ears, “yeah, i can do that.”

read here

High Tide (Came and Brought You In) by @pikatsum {teen} you’d originally rescued the injured merman out of kindness, and perhaps a healthy undercurrent of fear of what others in your town might do to the creature.

the last thing you ever expected after returning him to the sea, was for him to want to stay.

todoroki shouto x reader

courting ✧ slight angst ✧ strangers to lovers

you‘d heard of hysterical strength before, but you’d never truly acknowledged the sensation until the soaked, dripping netting was held high above your head. but very quickly, you couldn’t process anything outside of the form that waited underneath.

a pair of bright dichromatic eyes blinked at you through the gloom. it would be almost ethereal, if their owner wasn’t literally heaving for breath, both arms stuck akimbo in the holes of the netting. evidently, he and you had had the same idea. you gave voice to the only thought that actually did make sense in this situation.

“…what the hell…?”

read here

Melancholic by @stellamancer {mature} you were excited to return home for the summer, but all that excitement is quickly thrown out the window and you nearly resign yourself to a quiet and lonely summer.

the insufferable merman you rescued, however, has other plans.

gojo satoru x reader

roommates ✧ belligerent sexual tension ✧ interspecies friendship

he tilts his head, attempting to look innocent. and maybe his big eyes and wet, barely puckered lips would have convinced you a few hours ago, but now that you’re older and wiser you know that it’s all just an act. "oh, but—"

"unfortunately," you interject, raising your voice slightly in an attempt to establish dominance over the conversation at hand, "i'm rather uneducated when it comes to merfolk food culture."

the merman smiles at you with flirtatious ease, “i’m happy to teach you. i’m quite the teacher, you know.”

read here

#bnha x reader #my hero academia x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #idolish7 x reader #i7 x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #that one beach episode #<- event tag courtesy of my beloved monty 🥺#rec.🌧

657 notes · View notes

skeletonpunching · 1 year

Text

Buddy Daddies short story

[Translator’s note: This is a short story posted on the Buddy Daddies website, which you could unlock by collecting stickers. It’s set pre-canon, and contains no spoilers.]

Suwa Rei, clad in a black suit, inquired quizzically from the passenger seat, "So it's here today?"

Kurusu Kazuki, in the driver's seat, turned off the car engine as he replied.

"This isn't a job."

"?"

A few months had passed since this homeless freeloader had wound up with Rei. They had also formed quite a dynamic work duo, but Rei still couldn't follow Kazuki's train of thought.

"Then what?"

"There's one thing — just one thing in this world — that I absolutely can't stand. Threadbare T-shirts!"

"Huh?"

"Let's go!"

Kazuki flung the door open and sprang out into the carpark. Right before him, resplendent in the flood of sunlight, stood an enormous shopping mall.

Rei, still in the car, lifted a hand.

"Knock yourself out."

"You're coming too!"

"Ehhh..."

"Who do you think we're buying clothes for? Right now, you don't even have 'clothes to go clothes shopping in', do you? That's why I ended up having to drag you here in your work getup!"

"I'll buy them online."

"Hey. Do you even know your own underwear size?"

"..."

"Got you there, didn't I. Now, come on!"

"...ugh."

Rei begrudgingly hauled himself out of the passenger seat. His hair, pulled back in a ponytail, instantly wilted under the early summer sunbeams.

***

General stores, flower shops, sporting goods stores, cafes, opticians, jewellery shops — all sorts of specialty stores stood proudly in long ranks. The two of them made their way along the gently curving paths. The myriad shopfronts were lined with every imaginable item; with a place like this on hand, you would never want for anything. A pair of grown men might stick out like a sore thumb in a mall like this, but the place was mostly empty on this weekday afternoon, and so there were no curious stares to pursue them. Kazuki made for a menswear store, with his reluctant roommate in tow.

"Aaaaaahhhh!"

A shriek suddenly echoed through the cavernous mall, and they reflexively jerked to a stop. Kazuki whirled towards the source of the voice.

"Noooooo! I want thiiiiiiis!!"

A toddler was plopped down on the ground, clutching a toy tightly. The toddler's mother scowled.

"Don't you have the same one at home?"

"It's nooooot! This — it's not the saaaaame!!"

"Give it back! Put it down!"

It was just a trivial parent-child interaction, but it made Kazuki's breath catch in his throat. A life completely alien to an assassin. A scene that could never be bestowed on him. An everyday existence that lay just out of reach. Those illusions he had long since given up on were now flitting across his mind —

But Kazuki began to walk again, setting one foot stiffly before the other.

Just because he'd given up on a normal life didn't mean he could let himself sink into a sloppy mess.

A worn-out, threadbare T-shirt shouldn't just be treated as the norm. If no one was going to care for you, you should at least look after yourself.

"Huh?"

Just then, it abruptly dawned on Kazuki.

Rei had escaped.

***

Given his profession, he was a dab hand at lockpicking. He was confident it would take him less than thirty minutes to crack all the locks in the store.

In Rei's imaginary shopping mall, a scene took shape, painted by the sound of their cries.

Dogs released from their cages, scampering in packs through the deserted sprawl of the mall. Cats smoothly scaling the clothing racks and curling up on top for an afternoon nap. Rabbits freely gnawing on lighting cables. Tortoises taking a leisurely swim in the plaza fountain. Parrots gliding through the air, adorning the halls with their vivid plumage —

"What are you up to?"

"...nothing."

Rei's hazy fantasies were dispelled by his partner's call.

"Need something from the pet shop?"

"..."

"We're not getting one."

"...I know."

"Yeah, you sure don't look like you know. Listen, in our line of work, there's no way we can be responsible for anyone else's life. Anyway—"

Rei dimly heard Kazuki launch into his lecture. He was used to being ordered around by other people; it was a natural part of his daily life, and so he thought nothing of this sort of incessant chiding. But now Rei found himself subconsciously listening to Kazuki's speech. It even felt... not too bad.

...that's... weird, for me.

Rei muttered under his breath, and the cat before him cocked its head, as if to match.

***

Whoosh! The rail rang out as the fitting room curtain slid open.

"See? That's better, isn't it?"

"Is it?"

Rei's T-shirt was printed with a drawing of a cat in a bowl. It was utterly unbecoming for an assassin. Rei's face, surrounded by his loose hair, also looked somewhat awkward.

"Are you... embarrassed?"

"Not really."

"So, should we put it back?"

"I'm buying it."

Whoosh! The rail rang out as the fitting room curtain slid shut.

Just what kind of poses did that guy strike, when he looked into the mirror? Kazuki stifled a smile, and leaning back against the wall, he called out.

"A real cat's out of the question. So make do with that for now."

"Yeah. This suits me."

Rei's reply, from the other side of the curtain, sounded not entirely displeased.

#buddy daddies #buddy daddies extra material

1K notes · View notes

cherryslyce · 1 year

Text

Second Son (XV) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: Y/N remains in Reine. Letters arrive.

Part XIV / Part XVI / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: Anders lore! I miss Regulus *cry*. Also...emphasis on the canon divergence warning :)

The sun peeked through the dainty window above the kitchen sink of Anders’ house, illuminating the small waves of dust that swirled through the air and bringing light warmth on your back. In front of you, Anders’ stern expression remained unflinching despite how brutally the sun shone onto his wrinkled face.

Behind you, you could hear Asger mumbling quietly to Luna about putting on the kettle. Clutched firmly in your lap, Regulus’ journal seemed to burn into your thighs, reinforcing your resolve. Overnight, you had practically sprouted a new spine of steel.

“What’s in it for me?” Anders’ gruff voice tore through the silence, and you could see how brightly his inner conflict flickered through his eyes.

Raising your head minutely, your flat voice rang through the air firmly, “What do you want?” Your deadpan masked how anxious you were about the conversation, not knowing where you would turn to if Anders denied you again.

Swinging forward in his seat to the creaking protest of his chair, he narrows his eyes into a glare, “The research. What you found and will inevitably find.” His voice was hard and cold, leaving no room for negotiation.

Drawing your eyebrows together in confusion, your voice leaves as a small whisper, “Yes?”

“I want to publish it.”

Your eyes slowly widen and you have to clench your jaw to stop your nose from flaring in irritation. He wanted to take credit for Regulus’ research.

You become increasingly aware of the way the sunlight claws at your back, prickling with a steaming fierceness that matches the sudden burning along your jaws as you bury your fury.

What would Regulus want?

Is this okay to do?

Is there any other choice?

Gritting your teeth, you hiss out your answer without even trying to hide your venomous tone, “Fine.”

Anders’ eyes flicker around your scowl for a few moments before he leans back and sighs, “Good,” He then grins almost mockingly at you before averting his attention somewhere behind you, “let’s eat, then.”

You gulp loudly and try to steady your breathing, afraid that you would hex the man if you stewed further in your anger. There was no time to run rampant and squander your chances, even if the cost was highly unsavory.

You were doing this for Regulus, and he was worth it.

Breakfast, thankfully, went by quickly and without much trouble, even if the fish tasted like cotton pads in your distracted state. As Luna put down her fork with a muted clink, you were quick to snap back into reality.

Anders wipes his mouth with a cloth before throwing it down and hauling himself up with a small grunt. Asger simply observes his father with veiled interest, eyes following the older man as he shuffles over to place his plate in the sink. You straighten up in your seat and turn to face the older man, “Do you have books then? That I can read through.”

Anders grunts before limping towards the front door, only stopping when silence ensues, “I don’t have all day, kid.”

Shooting a flat look at Asger and Luna, they both give you surprised half-smiles in return. Asger wordlessly reaches to collect the rest of the plates, ushering you to follow his temperamental father. As you tread behind the older man, intentionally taking half steps to remain behind him, you decide to try and lift your spirits by looking at the scenery.

Reine was just as breathtaking in the morning as it was at night. The vast blues of the water fluttered in small peaks ever so slightly, reminiscent of the much larger rocky peaks that lined the village around you. The bright snow blanketing the rocky mounds seemed to shimmer under the sunlight, pure and thick, and nostalgic of the winters at Hogwarts.

You’re pulled from your thoughts by the sound of clinking chains, raising your eyebrows when you see Anders tugging away a mound of rusty chains from two wooden doors. The small building in front of you was a bit roomier than a shed and had two narrow windows pressed upwards on opposite walls: perfect for ventilation without compromising privacy.

As Anders steps to the side to let you move into the building, you hum quietly as you see a small wooden makeshift table pushed up against the back wall, nearly buried away under mountains of books that rested together like building blocks of a dilapidated building. It was a humble research study tucked away in the nook of the village.

“These are all mine, so don’t damage anything,” Anders croaks.

Raising an eyebrow, your eyes dart sideways in exasperation, “Sure. Have you read through all of these?” You slowly shuffle deeper into the room, occasionally leaning to peer at the titles of some of the books.

“No,” the short reply has your eye twitching.

As you clasp one of the thick books, cringing inwardly at the coat of dust that clings onto your fingers from the action, Anders trudges past you and drops himself onto one of the small stools in the corner.

“Here. This came at dawn, good thing too. The bloody owl would have confused the others.”

Turning to face the man, your face lights up as you see him extending a small envelope towards you, the corner of the paper crumpled a bit from being stuffed away in his pocket. Nodding in thanks, you quickly grasp the parchment and tear through it.

To Padfoot’s pup,

We understand. Stay safe. We won’t be heading out to school because of nightfall. We will not be at home, we are going hunting for the rest.

We miss you. Padfoot is upset with your sudden trip though.

Tell Luna we said hi.

Prongslet and co

You weren’t even sure if speaking in codes was necessary, but the crucial information that Harry just passed to you made you raise an eyebrow.

Hunting? For more horcruxes?

Sighing quietly at the revelation, you tuck away the letter into your pocket. As you shift to get comfortable, book in lap, you quietly amuse yourself by thinking of just all the trinkets you were keeping in your pockets.

You were practically a walking junk drawer.

As you flipped through the book, acutely aware of Anders’ lingering presence, you can’t help but relieve your mental itch. Without raising your head to look at the man, you casually ask, “So, how did you know Dumbledore?”

The man merely grunts and you release a long breath, both entertained and intrigued. It didn’t seem like Anders held some newfound affection for you, and you couldn’t help but wonder why he gave in to your persistence earlier.

“You’re a friendly lad.” You muse.

The man barely draws in a breath before retorting, “Nosy kid, aren’t you?” His tone lifted in the slightest, giving you the impression that his words were supposed to be a joke, even if it did sound like he was two seconds away from biting your head off.

Anders shifts and you hear a quiet rustling echo around the room, only drawing your attention away from the sea of words in front of you when Anders sighs loudly.

Squinting in confusion, you peer up to meet his expectant gaze, “Yes?”

“What do you know so far about magical essences?”

He leans one elbow on the desk, pencil hovering over a blank paper as you try and formulate a coherent sentence.

Resting your forearms on the book, you hum out a quiet answer, “Just that one is able to imbue it into objects and in certain cases, rooms.”

“Rooms?” Anders’ voice is edging disbelief.

Nodding slowly, you fiddle with the hem of your coat and reiterate your words, “Rooms. He was also able to key it to only be accessible by certain individuals,” you smile lightly as your eyes wander off, “I was able to find the room though, even though it wasn’t meant for me.”

“Sounds like he was an amateur then.”

Anders’ words have you snapping your head towards him with a venomous glare, eyes only growing stonier at his small grin.

“You don’t know anything about him.” You cluck your tongue, “Besides, I was able to access it because my magical signature was extremely similar to the intended individuals’.”

The man considers your words for a moment before replying, “You love him.” Anders’ words come out as more of a declaration than a question, and you find yourself immediately growing defensive despite how you tried to rein in your emotions.

You snap at him, “So what if I do?”

The man raises a hand to placate you, directing his attention to writing down your previous words, “Nothing. Just…” His words trail off and you take it as a sign of him retreating back into his shell, his burst of chattiness receding just as quickly as it appeared.

You both work in relative silence for the next few hours, and by the time you’re fully aware of the aching in your back and the dryness of your eyes, you still haven’t found anything of use or promise in your book.

It is around midday when Anders stretches up from his stool, “Let’s go eat.”

Feeling the faint aching of your stomach, you don’t argue as you slowly mark your place in the book and follow the man’s lead. The walk back to his house is filled with a comfortable silence for a while until you come to an epiphany, “Wait. There’s already a book about magical essences, so why would you need to publish what I know?.”

“The Norwegian one?”

Balking at his words, you raise your eyebrows as you reply, “Uh, yeah.”

Anders quietly snorts and shakes his head, “Did you actually read through it?”

“Only partially. My life doesn’t exactly allow for downtime.” Which was the truth, even though Regulus helped you find the book during Yule, you barely even made a dent in the reading as you became distracted by horcruxes and school work.

“Evidently,” Anders muses, “most of the information is purely theoretical. Your friend is likely the only person to ever succeed in casting such magic.”

You smile slightly at his words, “That doesn’t surprise me at all. He was truly brilliant.”

“Seems so.”

The next few days stretch by in a similar manner: beautiful casts of weather, small conversations with Luna and Asger, hours of skimming through books, riposting with Anders, and occasional daydreams about Regulus.

It was around a week after your arrival in Reine when you felt a shift in your dynamic with Anders, the older man slowly growing more comfortable with your presence.

“London. 1930.” You slowly raise your head up to look at the man, but remain quiet once you see the faraway look in his eyes, “Dumbledore found me and offered me a place at Hogwarts — that’s how I know him.”

Closing your book, you heave yourself up from off the floor, slowly pulling out a stool opposite of him, “What house were you in?”

“Ravenclaw,” Anders pauses and meets your eyes evenly, “I was a model student in his eyes, so he asked for my help. I was an orphan, and there was a boy in my orphanage who was also a magical child. He was a wayward, deceitful boy, even at such a young age. Dumbledore saw something in him when he came to offer him a place at Hogwarts a few years later.”

The story was sounding eerily familiar, and you suppress a shiver as your shoulders tensed, “Voldemort?”

Anders smiles thinly – bitterly, and nods, “I knew him as Tom Riddle,” the man’s wrinkles seem more prominent than before the conversation started, “Dumbledore asked me to guide him onto a more…conventional path. But he was just a kid, so I…”

You nod and twist your ring around as you put the pieces together in your head, “You underestimated him.”

“I let my guard down, and he was able to siphon information from me about Dumbledore’s intentions.” Anders looks completely worn for wear at the admission, and you feel a pang of pity pool in your stomach.

Shaking your head, you steel your gaze in resolution, “You were just a kid as well. It’s not your fault.”

“Dumbledore said the same thing,” the man murmurs. He sighs and runs his eyes around the ceiling, collecting himself, “But I couldn’t forgive myself. So I left, and fled here with Asger before the outbreak of the First War.”

You had an inkling that there was large chunk of the story being omitted, but decided not to press him on your suspicions, instead adding your own piece to the conversation, “He is adept at beguiling people, there were very few who saw through him, and those who did often met an untimely demise.”

Anders finally meets your eyes and nods, “Speaking from personal experience?”

Your eyes drop down to your shoes at his question, unsure of how to proceed with the conversation. Deciding that you didn’t trust your voice to waver, you simply reach into your coat and tug out the picture that Sirius gave you.

As Anders’ eyes scan the photo of Regulus, you see something flash in his eyes.

“Your boy? The portrait?”

You nod and slowly take the photo back, eyes running over Regulus’ face as you fall into old memories. In your stupor, you fail to notice the way Anders assesses you with a contemplative expression.

The conversation seemed to flip a switch in Anders mind, and he slowly began to regard you with more consideration. The sudden shift in your relationship with the older man was a bit bewildering, but not unwelcome. If anything, you felt a slow foundation of understanding and companionship building with him, much to Asger’s delight.

Luna was often kept occupied with exploring and conversations with Asger, the boy becoming enraptured by her sightly abilities and enigmatic words. It was strangely starting to feel like an unusual family.

It was a little over a month after you showed Anders the photo of Regulus when you received another owl, this one all too familiar. The bird arrived at the break of dawn while you were making yourself some tea, the bird perching itself on a nearby post outside of Anders’ window.

As you hurriedly made your way out, you were mindful to not make too much noise, not sure how you would explain the bird’s arrival to your neighbors.

“Hey there, girl. How are you?” Your voice was light as you slowly carded your fingers through the owl’s feathers, smiling brightly when she hooted and nudged her head into your fingers. After a few more pets, the tawny owl flies off into the distance, leaving you with a thick envelope.

Your tea was ready by the time you got comfortable reading the letter, leaning against the kitchen counter as you tore open the envelope.

Dear runaway friend of mine,

Our ward is faring well in light of things, and Theo and I have taken to making sure he eats. The Golden Lions are noticeably absent just like you said. The Carrows have taken up posts as Professor of Muggle Studies and Professor of Dark Arts. Detentions are abysmal as a result, the practice of a certain unforgivable has become the norm.

Our lovely ex-Potions professor is now Headmaster. I must say that I have it quite easy compared to many other students, and I am not too worried about my mail being intercepted, but if you wish to owl back, it would be wise to practice caution.

Mother has passed along a note as well, enclosed to you. Rest assured, I did not peek as I know you would disembowel me for such a violation.

Theodore says hello. He is considering your words from before, and he seems to align himself with your sentiments. Such information should remain discreet given his kin, but I trust your decision-making.

Draco also passed along a note for me to give you.

I hope you are well. It would be best if you stay far away for as long as you can, he is coming soon.

Your friend always,

You are fairly unperturbed by Blaise’s words, having expected Voldemort to move his forces into Hogwarts, but you didn’t quite anticipate the regular use of Unforgivables against students. Voldemort was utterly, and irredeemably insane.

Folding up the parchment and tucking it aside, you reach inside the envelope and pull out another letter, this one coated with a faint sweet scent, likely spritzed with perfume.

Dear Y/N,

I hope this letter reaches you well. There is talk that a certain group of teenage vigilantes and a certain disgraced Lord have fled elsewhere and are on the run. I will put it bluntly as I have charmed this letter to only appear for you: if you are able to get in contact with them, and they are in need of assistance, I am willing to give them refuge.

I am not one for politics, but the disillusioned individuals that run amuck in our sphere are a disgrace to magic and make British wizards unsightly to the rest of the globe. As someone who chose to live here, I simply cannot have such a reputation besmirch my name.

I have recently been in talks with Lady Malfoy, who shares such sentiments. We are neutral, and like you, are intent on putting our personal interests first. Offering refuge is not a decision I am making due to a change of heart – there is much to be gained if such a gamble pays off.

I hope you are well, dear.

Faithfully,

Contessa Jezebel Zabini

You slowly sip your tea as you scan over the words again, eyebrows gradually raising higher and higher at the offer. It was an auspicious offer to consider, but you weren’t sure if Harry would put his trust in the Contessa.

It was unlikely that the woman would turn your friends over to Voldemort as she had very little to gain from it, especially given how such a decision would put Blaise on the Dark Lord’s radar. Her insinuation that foreign countries were looking down on Britain seemed entirely plausible, and her ties to Italy would make such a prospect risky for her image.

You would send a message to Harry and extend the invite, but it was reassuring to know that the Contessa was willing to risk such a thing because you were friends with Blaise.

Placing the letter on top of Blaise’s, you slowly reach into the now, much slimmer envelope, and pull out a small parchment.

I’m sorry about your portrait.

- D

You nearly choke on your tea at the short note, sputtering a tad into your cup.

It seemed the little dragon was turning a new leaf.

Draco’s terse letter gave you the confidence boost you needed to go forward with messaging Harry. It was very likely that Draco and his mother were put off by the Dark Lord’s regime due to Draco’s previous mission. Reluctant allies, but allies nonetheless.

Folding up all of your letters, you quickly tuck them away into your pocket with Regulus’ photo. Reaching for your wand, you slowly push off of the counter and bring forth your happiest memories.

Regulus. Regulus. Regulus.

‘I’ll find you again, my love.’

‘...my love.’

Inhaling sharply, you wave your wand.

“Expecto Patronum.”

The burst of blue light that springs from your wand is nostalgic, and you realize that the last time you casted your patronus, you were rudely interrupted by an exploding wall. Your sparrow patronus swoops around the room briskly before stopping in front of you, flapping its wings rhythmically.

Twirling your wand upward again, you cast the messenger spell, “Nuntius Harry Potter.”

Your sparrow is engulfed in pale blue wisps that beats as it awaits your words.

Stepping forward, you clear your throat and try to remain succinct, “Harry, Contessa Zabini is offering you and the others refuge. She is aware of your current predicament and reached out to me. She is trustworthy, and I recently had a chat with her – she is disconcerted by the state of the world and puts her faith in you. If you are willing, send Kreacher to Zabini Manor to inform her. Stay safe.”

Those weren’t her exact words, but your friends were smart enough to deduce that Contessa Zabini had a lot to gain from helping them. As your patronus flies out of the house and off into the sky, you allow yourself to release the tension that was clutching at your spine.

Spinning on your heel, you nearly jump out of your skin when you come face to face with a curious Anders. The man moved away from the doorway and trudged towards the table, making himself comfortable before redirecting his attention to your still figure.

“Later, we are going to go hiking.” His words left no room for argument, but you didn’t mind since you were thrilled to explore the environment.

Turning to pour a cup of tea for the man, you can’t help the sarcastic reply that rises in your throat, “Hiking? Sure you can handle it?”

Anders gives you the stink eye as you place the cup in front of him, grunting a retort into his tea, “I’ll have you know that I happen to be a professional hiker.”

“Who’s a professional hiker?” Asger’s tired voice floats into the room as he yawns loudly, bringing a calloused hand to rub at his bleary eyes.

Shaking your head, you incline your head towards Anders, watching as both men share a look, one of bemusement and the other a deadpan. You were saved from their antics when Luna emerged into the room, immediately making her way to give you a hug in greeting. As you wrap your arms around the slender girl, you couldn’t help but become flushed with a wave of affection as you remembered her comforting words to you during the night of your arrival. You truly were grateful to have her by your side during all of this, and your thoughts spur you to give her a firm squeeze.

She didn’t seem to mind.

The hike up one of the neighboring granite peaks was not as tiring as you anticipated, the coolness of the snow permeating across the entire path and quelling the warmth that bloomed from your straining muscles.

Anders was keeping up quite well, and you took the initiative to walk beside him, letting Asger and Luna drift on ahead. The sun was beginning to slink away, painting the sky in gradients of pinks and purples, the first glittering of stars peaking through the layers of colors.

The bundles of red and white houses of the village were slowly shrinking in the distance, creating accent splotches that complemented the sky.

“I can see why you chose Reine. This place is absolutely breathtaking.” Your words come out as a satisfied hum, and you peek out of the corner of your eye to see Anders nodding in agreement.

The faintest traces of a smile tug at his lips as he replied, “Just kept moving around until my heart settled on a place.”

“A little cliche, but endearing coming from you.” You tuck your hands into your coat pocket, clenching your hands to try and keep the blood circulating.

Anders doesn’t speak for a while, but when Luna and Asger look back to indicate that they were planning on trailing back down, the man turns his attention back to you. As the two slowly trek away, you continue on clambering upward towards the peak, Anders grumbling all the way up behind you.

The man’s gruff voice breaks through the air as you reach your destination, “it’ll be hell getting back down in the dark.”

“I can apparate us back to the house.”

As the sun sweeps away and darkness begins to creep into the etchings of the sky, you pull out Regulus’ photo and hug it to your chest. You can feel Anders looking over at your ministrations, but looks reluctant to speak up, so you take the first step, “It makes me feel like he’s here with me. I used to take him everywhere with me, and I don’t want to stop that habit, even if he’s gone.”

Anders’ eyes seem to soften and he turns to face the distance, eyes focusing on the vast waters that stretched on for miles ahead.

“I do the same.”

You tilt your head at his admission, moving to sit on a flat rock nearby. The man follows suit and sits on the rock beside you, hands rustling around in his thick puffer coat.

In a similar fashion to you, he tugs out a folded photo. The photograph is visibly older and more worn than yours, the crease especially prominent from constant unfolding and refolding. The man slowly offers you the photo, eyes never moving away from the distance.

As you peer down at the small image, you feel your chest ache at the sight.

A young couple and a small baby. The man had his arm wrapped around the woman as she positioned the child so its face was visible to the camera, both of them beaming at you with joyful faces.

Anders. It was clear that the young man was Anders, but with fewer wrinkles and an uncharacteristic grin that stretched widely across his face.

But who was the woman?

“My wife, Anne. This place was her home.” You don’t think you could have masked your shock even if you tried, but he doesn’t seem to notice and continues talking, “She was killed by Voldemort a few weeks after we took that photo.”

Your mouth goes incredibly dry at the utterance, eyes flickering back and forth between the solemn man and the delicate photo in your hands.

Anders’ words remain firm as he speaks, seeming to be emboldened by your previous indulgence about Regulus, “Tom…he sought me out specifically. He felt that he needed to erase his past, and I think he felt that I failed him in a way. Anne was a formidable witch, but even she was no match for that monster,” he sucks in a sharp breath before continuing, “Albus helped me flee afterwards, with the condition that I treat him to a meal once I was settled. So, I chose Reine. For Anne. And then I changed my name and Asger’s name to protect us.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. You raise your eyes to look ahead, head spinning from the bombardment of news. Voldemort’s talent for bringing pain and suffering stretched far and wide.

“No need, it’s not your fault,” Anders whispers.

Clearing your throat, you run your finger across the photo and memorize each crease and fold as you respond, “Regulus died trying to stop Voldemort. He was a death eater at first, but defected only a year after. I think…I think he’s an inferi now.”

Anders turns to face you at this admittance, lips parting slightly in shock. “An inferi?” He mutters.

You nod and slowly pass the photo back to Anders, tucking away your own photo as you try and compose yourself.

A few beats of silent pass, and you begin to feel as though you divulged too much information to the man.

“There is a ritual that I think you might find useful,” Anders pauses as you glance at him in interest, “It’s an ancient one that was often used to ensure the passing of loved ones to the land of the dead.”

The news has you craning your head to gawk at him, “Like a soul tracking ritual?”

“Yes, I suppose.” He raises an eyebrow at you, “There is very little known about inferis, but I always theorized that they were not truly dead, so perhaps….”

Your eyes widen at the suggestion and you shoot up onto your feet in realization, “When I was in the cave, there were numerous magical signatures bouncing around! I think you might be right.”

Anders murmurs quietly next to you, “Cave?”

Thank Merlin for your sensitivity to magical signatures.

If Inferis were not truly dead…did that mean that they were all trapped in those mangled bodies? Souls tied down to a gaunt shell of who they used to be?

Regulus has been trapped all this time.

“Fuck. Let’s do this ritual.”

Anders lets out a small chuckle at your conviction, standing up to give you a firm nod, “We start at dawn.”

tag list: @krazyk99 @venomsvl @valsarchives @bunny24sstuff @novella12nite @elia-the-bibliophile @txorua @xlifexdeathx @trikigirl271 @the-marauders-world @sleepydang @blueberry-thrawn @lestat-whore @chanaaaannel @clockworkherondale @peachyaeger @thegayhoenextdoor @l--absinthe @ok-boke @summer-noir @mikeikax @musically-ambiguous @dittos-blog-dylanobrien @friendly-neighborhood-boricua @randomfaeriechild @misacc08 @that-bitch-bri @littleshadow17 @chocochannie @bl4stonesc

739 notes · View notes