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nmg-reblogs · 10 months ago

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Logan x plus size fem!reader

Smut with a little fluff at the end

Summary: When you come home exhausted one day, Logan takes care of you and worships your beautiful plus sized form.

Rating: 18+, MINORS DNI

Warning: smut, fingering, oral (f), male masturbation (logan grinds against bed), slight sub logan, legal age gap (implied), description of a plus-sized body (hip dips, big stomach, stretch marks, thick thighs),

NOTE: This is insanely long, but I hope all my plus-size Logan girlies love it!!

The door clicks shut behind you, and you lean against it, closing your eyes as the weight of the day presses down on you. Every muscle in your body aches and your mind is clouded with fatigue. All you want is to collapse into bed and forget the world for a while. But even in your weariness, the thought of Logan waiting for you at home keeps you going.

You kick off your shoes and drag yourself to the bedroom, each step a monumental effort. The moment you push the door open, you see him—Logan, sitting on the edge of the bed, his rugged features softening as he takes you in. His eyes, dark and full of concern, follow your every movement, and before you can say a word, he’s already in front of you, pulling you into his strong, warm embrace.

“Long day, huh bub?” he murmurs, his voice a deep, soothing rumble. You nod against his chest, your fingers clutching his shirt as if it’s the only thing holding you together. Logan’s arms wrap around you tighter, his hand gently rubbing your back, and for a moment, you allow yourself to melt into him, feeling the tension begin to ebb away.

Without a word, Logan guides you to the bed. He sits you down on the edge, kneeling before you, his hands resting on your thick thighs. He looks up at you, his gaze filled with an intense yet tender devotion that makes your heart swell.

“You don’t have to do anything, princess” he whispers, his voice laced with quiet intensity. “Let me take care of you.”

You nod, too exhausted to protest, trusting him completely. Logan’s hands move with slow, deliberate care, his fingers tracing the hem of your delicate, feminine sweater before gently lifting it over your head. He pauses, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation, but you meet his gaze with nothing but trust and love. He continues, undressing you with the utmost reverence, as if you’re something sacred, something to be cherished.

When you’re finally naked before him, Logan takes a moment to drink you in. His eyes roam over your soft, curvy body, lingering on the dip of your waist, the roundness of your belly, the thickness of your thighs. The plushness of your stomach, the way your breasts sit perfectly atop it, and the curve of stretch marks on your soft body all draw his gaze, and there’s no hint of hesitation or doubt in his expression—only admiration, desire, and a deep, unwavering affection.

“You’re so fucking beautiful darlin” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your belly, then another to the curve of your hip. His lips are warm and gentle against your skin, each kiss a silent vow of love and devotion.

Logan’s hands continue their exploration, skimming over your curves, caressing every inch of you as if committing your body to memory. His touch is gentle, almost worshipful, as his fingers trace the outline of your hips, lingering on the softness there, the dips and swells that make you uniquely you. He brushes his thumb over your hip dips, as if to remind you just how perfect you are to him.

“Lie down, sweetheart,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. You comply, letting him guide you onto the bed. The cool sheets feel like a balm against your overheated skin, but it’s Logan’s presence, his touch, that truly eases the tension in your body.

He climbs onto the bed beside you, his large hands moving up and down your body, leaving trails of warmth in their wake. Logan leans down, his lips finding yours in a kiss that’s slow and deep, his tongue teasing yours. His hands cup your breasts, kneading them gently, his thumbs brushing over your nipples.

You moan softly into his mouth, your body arching up into his touch, craving more of him. Logan pulls back slightly, his eyes dark with desire as he looks down at you. “You’re incredible, bub” he murmurs, his voice husky. “So soft, so perfect…”

His hand slides down your body, fingers trailing over your round stomach, tracing the curve of your hip before slipping between your thighs. You gasp as his fingers brush against your most sensitive spot, a jolt of pleasure shooting through you. Logan smiles, his gaze locking with yours as he begins to slowly circle your clit with his thumb, the motion teasing, just enough to drive you wild.

“Logan…” you whisper, your voice trembling with need. He leans down to kiss you again, his lips warm and insistent against yours.

“Shh, just relax, sweet girl” he murmurs against your lips. “Let me take care of you.”

His fingers slide lower, parting your folds as he slips one, then two fingers inside you, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. Logan’s touch is slow, deliberate, as he works you open, his fingers curling just right to brush against that sweet spot inside you that makes you see stars. Your breath hitches, your hips instinctively rocking against his hand, seeking more of that friction.

Logan’s thumb continues its gentle, steady circles on your clit, and your entire body feels like it’s on fire, the pleasure building higher and higher with every stroke of his fingers. He’s watching you the whole time, his gaze intense, as if he’s committing every gasp, every moan, every shiver of pleasure to memory.

“You’re so beautiful like this princess,” Logan murmurs, his voice rough with need. “So perfect, so damn perfect…”

His words, his touch, his presence—it’s all too much, and not enough. You’re teetering on the edge, your body trembling with the need for release. Logan must sense it because he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his fingers never faltering in their rhythm.

“Let go for me, darlin’,” he whispers against your lips. “I’ve got you.”

And with those words, you do. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body arching off the bed as pleasure overwhelms you. Logan’s fingers continue to work you through it, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure until you’re a trembling, panting mess in his arms.

But Logan isn’t done. Not yet. “That's my good girl, let it out princess”

As you lie there, trying to catch your breath, Logan shifts, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with a hunger that sends another jolt of desire through you, reminding you that he is the wolverine, and he is completely domesticated by you. His gaze drags down your body, lingering on your soft curves, the fullness of your thighs, the way your hips dip and curve in all the right places.

“You drive me crazy, kid” he murmurs, almost to himself, as his hands roam over your body again, reverently tracing every curve, every dip. His touch lingers on your hips, his fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp as he drags them over the swell of your ass, the plushness of your thighs. “You’re perfect, darlin’. So damn perfect.”

He kisses his way down your body, his lips warm and soft against your skin, and you feel another wave of heat pool between your legs as he settles between your thighs. He presses a kiss to your inner thigh, then another, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips when his mouth finally finds your core.

Logan’s tongue slides between your folds, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through you. He groans against you, the sound vibrating through your entire body. He’s relentless, his mouth moving with practiced precision, his tongue flicking against your clit in a way that makes you gasp, your hands fisting in the sheets.

He eats you out like a man starved, his tongue teasing and tasting every inch of you, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you in place. He loved the way your warm thighs wrapped around his head as he ate you out. You’re lost in the sensation, your body trembling with the need for release, and when he slips two fingers inside you again, curling them just right, you’re hurtling toward another orgasm before you even realize it.

“Logan…” you gasp, your voice trembling with the intensity of your need. He growls against you, the sound vibrating against your clit, and it’s all too much. The pleasure builds and builds until you feel like you might shatter from it, and then you’re falling over the edge again, your second orgasm crashing over you with a force that leaves you breathless.

But as you come down from your high, you realize that Logan isn’t stopping. His movements become more urgent, more desperate, and when you lift your head to look down at him, the sight makes your breath catch in your throat.

Logan’s breath comes in harsh, ragged pants as he grinds his hips against the bed, the friction against the mattress bringing him dangerously close to the edge. His eyes stay locked on you, his gaze roaming over your body, drinking in every detail—the way your chest heaves with each breath, the soft curves of your belly, the dip of your waist, and the plushness of your thighs. He watches the way your skin glows in the dim light, the way your body quivers under his touch, and it drives him wild.

The sight of you, so open, so vulnerable, so beautiful, is almost more than he can bear. He presses harder against the bed, his cock straining against the fabric of his boxers, the sensation amplified by the knowledge that you’re watching him.

Logan’s hands tighten their grip on your thighs as he continues to grind against the bed, his need for you overwhelming. He leans forward, burying his face in the softness of your belly, inhaling the sweet scent of your skin. The warmth of your body against his lips, the feel of your curves under his hands, it’s everything he’s ever wanted, everything he needs. He kisses your stomach, his lips trailing over the soft skin, and he groans against you, his voice rough with desire.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “So damn beautiful, princess’. Look at what you do to me my sweet girl… so soft, so lovely.. fuck”

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you moan softly in response, your body still trembling from the intensity of your second orgasm. You can feel the tension in Logan’s body, the way his muscles tighten as he ruts against the bed, his need for release palpable. You reach down, running your fingers through his thick hair, tugging gently as he continues to grind against the mattress.

“Logan,” you whisper, your voice breathless. “I want to watch you… I want to see you cum.”

The sound of your voice, the look in your eyes as you gaze down at him, sends a jolt of pleasure straight to his core. Logan’s movements become more frantic, more desperate, as he chases his release, his hips grinding harder against the bed. The sight of you, so soft and beautiful beneath him, is the final push he needs.

With a low, guttural growl, Logan’s body tenses, his hips bucking against the bed as his orgasm crashes over him. He presses his face against your belly, his breath hot against your skin as he shudders through his release. His hands grip your thighs tightly, holding onto you as waves of pleasure pulse through his body, his cock throbbing with each powerful spasm.

You feel the warmth of his release soak through the fabric of his boxers, the wetness spreading between you, and it only heightens the intensity of the moment. Logan’s breath comes in ragged gasps as he rides out the last waves of his orgasm, his body trembling with the force of it. When it finally subsides, he collapses against you, his forehead resting against your belly as he struggles to catch his breath.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room is the soft panting of your breaths, the silence punctuated by the occasional aftershock of pleasure that ripples through your bodies. Logan remains still, his face buried against your soft skin, his hands gently caressing your hips, as if grounding himself in the reality of the moment.

Finally, he lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours with a look of such tenderness that it makes your heart ache. Logan moves up your body, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your skin as he goes, until he’s face to face with you once more. He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing softly over your chubby cheeks as he gazes down at you.

“You’re amazing,” he whispers, his voice still thick with emotion. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, bub, but I’m never letting you go.”

You smile up at him, your heart swelling with love as you reach up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur, your voice soft and full of affection.

Logan leans down, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss that speaks of all the love and devotion he feels for you. When he finally pulls back, he shifts to lie beside you, pulling you into his arms. His fingers begin to trace over your skin, starting at your shoulder and moving down your arm, his touch light and reverent.

As his hand drifts lower, he begins to trace the stretch marks that adorn your hips and thighs, his touch gentle, almost worshipful. He follows the lines with his fingers, mapping out every curve and dip, as if committing them to memory. Logan presses a soft kiss to each mark, his lips warm and tender against your skin.

“I love these,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “They’re a part of you, a part of what makes you so damn beautiful bub.”

Tears prick at your eyes at his words, and you can’t help the way your heart swells with emotion. Logan continues to trace your stretch marks, his touch so full of love and reverence that it leaves you breathless. You nestle closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, and for the first time all day, you feel truly at peace.

In Logan’s arms, with his love and admiration washing over you, the weight of the day melts away, leaving only the warmth of his embrace and the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. And as you drift off to sleep, your body still tingling from the pleasure he gave you, you know that there’s nowhere else in the world you’d rather be.

#comicbookslut #wolverine #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #plus size reader #smut #fem reader

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nmg-reblogs · 11 months ago

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PLEASE TAG OR MENTION ARTISTS THAT ARE SELLING BG3 PRINTS! AND YES PLEASE TAG YOURSELF OF THATS YOU!

I WANT ART SO BAD

@sarii-draws < i have their prints hanging on my wall 💜

#New tags :))#bg3 #bg3 art #bg3 fanart

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nmg-reblogs · 11 months ago

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Fics That Have Gotten Me Through The Longest Shifts Of My Life (Ongoing)

please share any recommendations 💜

• The Only Exception - by geekyclean on AO3

(also geekyclean, please come back and write fics 🙏)

Spencer Reid x (fem) Reader

I couldn’t put it down. Genuinely, it made me read it faster than i would have like to. It’s rivals to lovers, undercover, lots of tension. It’s really well paced, especially for the timeline they gave themselves. The romance doesn’t feel forced, it really feels like it builds up really well. Both with what happens in the fic and the exposition. Highly HIGHLY recommend :)))

Tea and Sympathy by @bucketsofmonsters here on tumblr or BucketsOfFrogs over on A03

Deadpool x Reader

It made me excited to come to work just so I had an excuse to read it. It��s incredibly well written and the characterization is just MWAH SO GOOD. It makes me upset that this fic wasn’t around in my og Deadpool days but i’m happy it’s here for this third round ❤️🖤. It’s hurt/comfort, obviously there’s a bit of violence but nothing is gratuitous/graphic, HIGHLY RECOMMEND

#new fic added

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nmg-reblogs · 1 year ago

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the vpn isn’t working and i can’t find anything past episode 7 of season 2

i’ve watched all of what paramount plus has to offer in terms of CBS Ghosts so now i’ve moved onto BBC Ghosts.

Let’s see which loser wins my heart this time 💜

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nmg-reblogs · 1 year ago

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STARGAZING

pairing. sasappis x ghost!reader

summary. requested. stargazing with sasappis. pure fluff!

word count. 1k || masterlist

warnings. dead!reader, g/n reader, no use of y/n.

No matter how much time passed you by in death, there were still things about the world that fascinated you. One of those things was the stars. Whenever the sky was clear, you’d be found in the backyard of Woodstone, lying in the grass and gazing at the stars as if you were witnessing them for the very first time. Sometimes one or two of the ghosts who haunted the mansion would join you, but more often than not, the only person who seemed to enjoy the stars almost as much as you was Sasappis. You both enjoyed one another's company and relished in the calmness of a twinkling night.

You and Sasappis had been alive during vastly different time periods, but the stars reminded you both of home and family; they connected you across decades and lifetimes.

“Did you know people can get stars named after them now?” you said, breaking the long stretch of comfortable silence.

You felt his eyes on the side of your face, causing you to turn your head to gaze back at him. The soft light of the moon cast a pretty glow across his face, with brows furrowed in question. “No way,” he replied.

“Really! You get a certificate and everything.” It was Jay who you learned that from; he had a whole conversation about space and the universe with one of the people they hired to fix up the mansion for their B&B. “Imagine,” you continued, a dreaminess floating in your voice. “Looking up every night and knowing somewhere in the sky is a little star with your name.”

“First there’s other galaxies beyond ours and now this?” Sass said in mild disbelief. “What’s next? Are they going to colonize the moon?”

A laugh bubbled up your throat and he smiled. “Mars is next on the list, I believe.”

He blew some air from his cheeks. “And here I thought the idea of a man on the moon was outrageous.”

You turned your body so that you were lying on your side, propping your head up on your hand as your elbow dug into the grass. You could see him better, lying with his hands down at his sides as he plucked at the grass absentmindedly. “If you had a star, which one would you want?” you asked.

He returned his gaze to the sky, studying the nearby stars with a level of seriousness that made your lips quirk up in a soft smile. Sass didn’t take too many things seriously; how could he after being a ghost for as long as he had? But around you, especially when you were alone in the backyard, Sass hung onto every word you said as if his death depended on it.

After a long moment, he pointed upwards at the sky and said, “That one, right there.” You strained your eyes, following his finger in the general direction he was pointing. “Not the super bright one, but the one right next to it.” You saw it, two stars situation beside each other. One glowered brighter than the other, but both were dazzling against the black sky.

“Why not the brighter one?” you asked.

Sass looked at you again, soft smile and eyes wide with a certain glimmer of adoration that made your stomach flutter. He reminded you of a star. He was something you planned to admire for as long as your ghostly form remained at Woodstone.

“Because the bright one’s yours,” he said. You felt your face warm at his words and you forced your gaze away from him and back up at the stars. The two stars sat prettily beside one another, just as the two of you sat side by side on the grass. The light that emitted from your star stretched outwards just slightly, looking like it was reaching out for the star beside it.

You became brave and copied your star’s action, slowly sliding your head that rested at your side toward Sasappis’s hand. Your pinky brushed against his as a hesitant invitation, and without either one of you taking your eyes off of the sky, you interlocked your fingers. With his hand in yours, you felt as if you were holding onto a star. Bright and beautiful and just yours.

It didn’t matter how old the stars in the sky were, they still ended up right beside each other just as you and Sass ended up ghosts at Woodstone together. Maybe it was fate, written in the stars as some people would suggest, that the two of you had died on the same property decades apart and found yourselves stuck in purgatory together. Death had brought you together despite the impossibility of you two ever meeting while you were alive.

When you were alive, death had been seen as a curse, but it wasn’t all that bad. An eternity spent with Sasappis, watching the stars and basking in the glow of one another sounded like the opposite of some kind of punishment. And maybe after you completed your purgatory, if it ever ended, you two would end up burning as stars in the sky side by side. That’d be nice, you thought.

“Look,” you said, pointing to the cluster of stars just below yours. “There’s one for everyone too. Sam and Jay. Trevor, Isaac, Flower, and that one’s obviously Thor.” You pointed to the largest star in the cluster. “And then Hetty, Alberta, and Pete.” That sounded nice too, spending forever in the sky with everyone still close.

“Cute,” Sass replied as a light laugh punctuated his word. “The whole family.” He paused, shaking his head. “Do not tell any of them I called us a family.”

“Never.” You smiled. “Can’t have them know you’re a big softie.”

Sass scoffed, playfully. “Am not.”

You rolled your eyes. “You just told me I was a bright star in the sky.”

He lifted your interlocked hands, letting them bathe in the direct moonlight. “Okay, maybe I’ve gone a little soft, but it’s your fault.” You let your hand fall onto his chest above where his heart used to beat and scooted impossibly close to him, hovering just slightly above his lying figure.

“Sorry,” you said, insincerely. He mirrored your smile before he lifted his head and met you halfway, capturing your lips in a short but sweet kiss, spotlighted by your stars that burned as brightly.

#cbs ghosts #sasappis #sasappis x reader #wisdomssdaughterr #x reader fix

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nmg-reblogs · 1 year ago

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UNVEILED

pairing. ghost-bride!reader x trevor lefkowitz

summary. requested. Out of all the mysteries that lived within the walls of the Woodstone Mansion, Trevor was only curious about the mystery of you and the veil that constantly covered your face.

warnings. fem!reader, mentions of death, dead!reader, bodily injuries, talk of insecurities, murder, hurt/comfort

word count. 2.8k || masterlist

a/n. this came out a bit angstier than intended lol but don’t worry there is comfort too! also…maybe I write a part two to this?? feel free to request for all of the ghosts; I love this show so much <3

It often felt like you were on the outside of things, peering in but rarely interacting. The ghosts that shared their purgatory with you in Woodstone had tried and still sometimes did to include you in their TV-watching nights and other ghostly shenanigans. They tried to be kind, but deep down you knew the mystery that shrouded your presence unnerved them. You were the one death none of the already established ghosts had witnessed nor had they seen it coming. One day you simply were one of them, hidden behind a veil and forever stuck in your wedding dress that was ruined with deep crimson smudges.

Only Hetty, Thorfinn, and Sasappis had seen you hours before you met your fate on your wedding day. They saw your features illuminated with a blissful wedding glow. The next thing they knew, chaos had erupted throughout the mansion and you, bloodied and veiled, could see them. What had happened, they only caught pieces from wedding guests as they fled the mansion without any kind of celebration. A groom who flew off the handle and a poor almost-wife caught in the crossfire.

The three of them held more sympathy and kept the secret of your death, what little details they knew. But they had established their own friendships amongst each other and the new ghosts that later joined their strange collection. You could never find it in yourself to truly be a part of their tightly-knit circle. You floated about the house, not quite as estranged as the basement ghosts, but with an uneasy air of mystery that made it difficult for the core group of ghosts to befriend you genuinely. They were never unkind to you, but your presence seemed to unnerve them, sometimes. All you were was a sheet of off-white, faceless, and gory bride.

Your husband, the man you once swore had loved you more than life itself, had covered your face with your veil after he killed you. For a while, you wanted to believe the gesture was one of love but the more you sat in it, you knew it was one of self-preservation. He didn’t want to look at what he did to you, and you thought why would anyone else? You hadn’t even seen what you looked like, but you could feel the deep grooves of your injuries across your face. When you brushed your fingers along your cheeks and down across your chin, you were back at what was supposed to be your wedding night, lying on the ground as the man you once loved saw nothing but red. When he was done ruining the delicate skin along your face with something sharp you hadn’t even seen coming, he placed your veil back down where it had remained since.

Your blood was visible to anyone who looked at you, but your face was obstructed by the ivory, pink, and red veil. It was for the best, you believed. The ghosts and Sam already saw you as some peculiar horror movie figure that lingered in door frames and only spoke from time to time; your sudden input made them jump like they had forgotten you’d been there but you were quite hard to miss. Maybe they blocked you out, pretended they were ghosts haunted by some poor little bride in a costume people now bought in stores and wore on Halloween.

Well, that wasn’t the whole truth, necessarily. Not all of the ghosts tip-toed around you. There was one person in the mansion who seemed to be the opposite of turned off by your quiet and awfully haunting nature.

“Knock knock.”

“It’s not a courtesy knock if you’re already sticking your head inside the room, Trevor,” you said, followed by a gentle sigh.

Trevor was a stark contrast to the other ghosts, while they tried to be your friend but ended up tip-toeing too much around you, he seemed to not be put off by you in the slightest; it was odd and you weren’t sure how welcome it was. You didn’t know how to feel about his flirtatious comments or friendly attitude. Since your fiance, you didn’t have the best feelings toward men in general. You never knew what they were really thinking. One moment, they’re ready to walk down the aisle for you, and the next, they’re the reason you’re a ghost. It wasn’t like you could die again, but there were a million ways to hurt someone, even when you both were dead, which was another reason you didn’t cross the distance between you and the other ghosts.

With a shrug, he stepped fully inside your room with a smile on his lips. “Hard to be courteous as a ghost.”

“I don’t think you try too hard,” you replied, curled into your chair beside the window. You sat with your knees pulled up to your chest, the skirt of your dress spilling out along the ground. Trevor helped himself to the chair beside yours, making himself comfortable. “Is there something I can help you with?”

He shook his head. “There’s only so much of Thorfinn’s ‘cod-talk’ that I can handle. So, I figured I’d pay you a visit. You didn’t come to our morning TV time. Sam showed us another reality show called ‘Jersy Shore.’”

“I don’t think I’m the most welcome to TV time.” They invited you, sure, but deep down you knew they only did it as a formality. You often felt like you were butting in.

Trevor looked at you like you had grown another head; his brows furrowed and a little crease formed across his forehead. “What? Of course you are. You live you too, you know?” He scooted to the end of the chair that was angled toward yours and leaned forward. “And I like having you there.”

You looked at him, head tilted slightly. He couldn’t see your face nor the expression you made underneath your veil but he heard the scoff leave your lips. “You don’t have to say that, you know? You don’t have to pretend like you…” you trailed off, unsure of the right word. You don’t quite know what he was pretending to do. To like you. To see you as a friend when he hardly knew anything about you. Your presence unsettled those inside the house. The air of mystery around you wasn’t inviting but rather cold and confusing. You had made yourself that way, with the help of your fiance who had lost his mind on what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life.

“Like I what? Like you? Because I’m not pretending,” he said, his voice so matter of fact it was hard to believe he was lying, but you knew he had to be. Trevor hung around you, talked to you like a friend, but you couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t real. How could it be?

“Stop,” you signed, hanging your head and dropping your legs back down to the ground. The taste of blood forever stuck on your tongue made you wince. “Look at me.” You weren’t something lovely anymore. And sure, the other ghosts all had something that signified their death forever stuck on them, but it was bigger than a simple appearance. You had loved someone so much and they hurt you so terribly that even in the afterlife the thought of showing your face, your wounds and blood and bridal makeup made you feel ill. Because if someone you loved had looked at you before that, someone who knew you so intimately, and still hurt you, how was anyone supposed to look at you now and feel any semblance of love or even like? What if someone looked at you again, face ruined, and decided to hurt you just as your fiance did?

“I’m trying,” Trevor said. “But it’s a little hard to see you.”

A pang, hot and deep, ricocheted through your chest as you stood up. “That’s the point.”

You weren’t sure if you wanted to cry or scream, perhaps a bit of both but you had resorted to silence considering you weren’t alone. You didn’t want to make more of a scene than you already did with your presence that felt too large and uncomfortable.

“Do you want me to get rid of them?” Sam asked, her voice laced with concern and a gentleness that was a bit lost on you. She and Jay had been cleaning out some old boxes they had found shoved into a closet. In one of them lived a couple of framed photographs of you and your fiance when you were dating. They were a little worn and so old you were surprised they held up after all that time.

You looked too happy in the photos, smiling widely in his arms. There was another taken shortly after your engagement. Your family had brought them to Woodstone to decorate with for your wedding and after the events of that night, they must’ve forgotten them. Somehow they got shoved into a box and remained inside the home ever since. A part of you felt like it was a sweet sentiment, cementing your presence inside the mansion but another part felt like it was some kind of sick joke.

“Oh, so that’s what you look like,” Flower said, peering over Sam’s shoulder. There was no malice in her voice, only the usual airiness, but it carried an unknown weight to her and everyone else.

You felt sick as you stared at the smiling face of the man you almost married. He looked happy too. The two of you together had once been a charming sight. Your families and friends always told you how good the two of you looked together like you had been put on the Earth to find one another. But you no longer looked like the person staring back at you in the photograph, and the last image you had of the man you once loved looked nothing like he did in those photos.

Tears pricked your eyes as you shook your head at Flower’s words. “No anymore.” And never again.

Back inside your room, you paced, chewing on your fingernails. Something had a tight hold on your chest, squeezing your heart was no longer beating tightly. You were so caught up in your awful, crashing waves of nasty emotions that pulled you under, that you missed someone enter your room.

“Hey,” Trevor said, softly so as to not scare you but you jumped anyway and dropped your hand quickly as your veil fell back over your mouth. “Sorry. I just wanted to make sure you were okay after that. Sam feels really bad about showing you the photos. She didn’t mean to make you upset she just-”

You cut him off with a wave of your hand. “I didn’t know they’d make me feel so awful,” you said, glad he couldn’t see the tears that trickled down your cheeks. “That’s not her fault. I…” you trailed off, falling onto the edge of your bed with your hands held tightly together in your lap.

Trevor sat beside you, leaving a space between you two. “The other dude in the photo. He was your fiance, right?” You nodded, solemnly. “And he was the one who…”

“Kill me? Yes.” The pieces weren’t impossible to put together. You were sure in Sam’s research about the house and the ghosts your story was among them. Maybe Hetty or Sass or Thor told the others what little they knew about your death. They had been off doing something else when you were murdered, but that wasn’t something that occurred silently. In the aftermath, the house was in chaos and your almost-husband was taken away red-handed.

“I’m sorry,” Trevor said.

“He wasn’t.” Your voice came out with a bite, but it wasn’t directed at Trevor. You bounced back and forth between sadness and anger, stewing it in decade after decade. You wanted it soothed but you feared you’d forever be the bitter bride roaming the halls of Woodstone. “He did more than just kill me that day. It was like he knew I’d become a ghost, stuck here forever in this stupid dress, and my face-” You stopped yourself, ghosting your hand against the fabric of your veil. “He ruined me. Both in life and death.”

Carefully, Trevor reached out and grasped your hand. His hand was cold, but as he squeezed yours, you felt warmer. “Don’t let him,” he said, simply as if he knew anything about how you felt. You rolled your eyes; he couldn’t see it but he sensed it in the stiffening of your shoulders and the slack of your hand in his. “He’s not here, you are. Yeah, he fucked up your life but…I don’t know, don’t you ever feel like us becoming ghosts is a weird second chance?”

“It doesn’t really feel like a second chance. It feels like I’m stuck.” Stuck in your dress, in your veil, in your wedding venue, in the sinking feeling that no matter what you do you’re doomed.

“But it can,” Trevor said, scooting closer to you. “It can feel like a second chance. No one here should be friends; no one here should know anything about each other but we do. That’s a second chance if I’ve heard of one.”

“And you don’t think it’ll end badly?” Because doesn’t everything good?

He smiled lightly. “I try not to think about how it’ll end, only how it’s goin’.”

You had once thought that way too. The inevitability of death or something coming to an end was one of the last things that used to occupy your mind. You lived in the moment, swept up in happiness and falling in love with every stranger you met. The ‘till death do we part’ promise your fiance made when he proposed had never weighed on you because you always thought you’d make it into your old age with him. Since you felt death, endings in your mind became bitter and you couldn’t help but believe they’d always be bad. Every end would be tragic in life and death.

“I don’t think I can do that anymore,” you admitted in a whisper, staring down at your intertwined hands in your lap.

“I could show you.” You could feel his eyes burning into the side of your face but you were too scared to look at him and see how genuine he was. You heard it in his voice but seeing it on his face, you were afraid you’d cave. A small piece of you, the part of your heart still intact that wanted nothing more than to be in love again, wanted to cave so badly. The loneliness of your act of pushing everyone inside the home away despite their efforts was tiresome.

You blinked back a couple more tears and sighed. “That might take a while.” You didn’t know if you even had it in you to take back what your fiance stole.

“Good thing we have eternity, then.” You heard the smile in Trevor’s voice and caved, looking over at him looking right at you. He was close, closer than you were sure he had ever been. “Do you trust me?”

The first answer that sprung forward in your head was yes, despite everything, every twisted worry that had accumulated in your body, your instinct when he asked was to say yes. He’d never done anything to make you say no. Unlike your fiance, you never had a troublesome inkling in the pit of your stomach that he’d lose his temper one day or that you got on his nerves when they were already inflamed. No, Trevor stayed with a cheeky grin, a crude joke, a compliment here and there, and an air of trustworthiness that everyone in the house felt but never said aloud.

Swallowing thickly, still tasting the blood on your tongue you answered, “Yes.”

He let go of your hand and touched the end of the veil’s fabric, holding it between his fingers. “Tell me to stop and I will,” he said, quietly. You held your breath and stayed still, not moving a muscle as he slowly started to lift the veil, giving you plenty of time to tell him to stop. It wasn’t until the fabric was fully off of your face that the fear of him turning away in disgust or horror fell over you. He was looking at, looking at what your fiance had done in his successful murder attempt. While you had no idea what you truly looked like, you knew the placement of every cut and groove. You knew it was unsightly and you couldn’t blame Trevor if he pulled the veil right back down over your head, just as your fiance had done after the deed was done.

You waited in thick anticipation, fear encroaching on the corners of your mind. But, Trevor did nothing you feared he would.

His lips pulled upwards in a smile, bright and warm, as he held onto the sides of your face. “Hi,” he said, seeing you for the first time really.

“Hello,” you replied.

#i’ve entered a new fandom #cbs ghosts #trevor lefkowitz x reader #trevor lefkowitz #I beg more people to write fic for this show #wisdomssdaughterr #y’all are making trevor grow on my more than i thought possible

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