#//LEARNING TO BE COMFORTABLE IN HIS OWN SKIN AND BEING ABLE TO SHOW MORE OF HIMSELF

[mechahero]

oughghgh thinking about future lambda again

[cordeliawhohung]

Leftovers [1/3]

Simon Riley x fem!Reader | a non-canon addition to my mafia!141 series |

part 2 | part 3

warnings: unhealthy thrupple relationship, hurt/some comfort, slight dub-con, possessive Simon, smut, (f!recieving oral, fingering, p in v) 6.5k wc

Mr. and Mrs. Price don't know how to take care of you properly. Simon is hellbent on saving you, no matter the means.

The first and only rule that came with living with the Prices was that no matter how much you thought otherwise, they didn’t really love you.

It didn’t matter how sweetly Mrs. Price kissed your forehead, her lips would never grace yours, and despite how deliciously Mr. Price would pump his fingers into your cunt he would never bless you with the opportunity to take his cock. Above all else, they first belonged to one another before ever belonging to you. All you were good for was being their sweet little pet, nothing but a catalyst for their pleasure; their favorite aphrodisiac. 

There were worse things in the world to be, and being a pet wasn’t all that bad. The Prices kept a roof over your head and gave you meals at least three times a day, if not more. Every now and then while Mr. Price was away at work, you and Mrs. Price would fall asleep on the couch together. Hours later you would wake up with your head on her chest, but you wouldn’t dare to stir her awake because the sound of her heart beating was more captivating than anything that droned on the television. 

But she would always wake up when Mr. Price came home, and she’d drag you off to the bedroom where they’d strip you bare like some spectacle. Mrs. Price’s lips would devour every inch of your skin, kissing your neck, chest, and breasts; kissing everything except for you. Meanwhile, Mr. Price would fuck his fingers into you and growl every time his wife giggled at your moans. His cock would harden in his pants, a sight that you would never be able to see, and just as you came undone on his fingers his lips would always find their way to her instead of you. 

They would laugh and giggle as you squirmed underneath them and coo about how adorable you were. How soft and pliant you were for them, such a good and well behaved pet. They would kiss your body a few more times before tucking you in for the night and leaving you alone to do their own lovemaking elsewhere. That’s how it always ended. Always the lover, never the loved, but that was okay. At least you weren’t alone. 

Things started changing when Mr. Riley showed up. 

He showed up at the house one day by invitation from Mr. Price and nearly scared you half to death. Like a ghost, he seemingly appeared in the living room one evening and took up all the space on the loveseat. Perhaps that’s what had intimidated you at first, just the sheer size of him. He stood taller than Mr. Price did, and the bulging muscles of his body was proof he could rip you in half if he so pleased. Then there were the faded scars on his face, the ruggedness of his features and the piercing expression in his dark brown eyes. He looked at you like you were a meal ready to be eaten. Or, maybe you just wished that he would. 

Mr. Riley was a quiet man, you learned. He hardly spoke throughout dinner and when he did he was rather short and blunt with his responses. Though he was a man of few words, everything he said seemed to have some sort of meaning. There was something about his voice that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end and you nearly choked on your food at the sensation. It wasn’t at all unpleasant, and if anything the deep timbre of his voice was rather soothing, and you liked the teasing nature of his banter with Mr. Price. Perhaps you enjoyed it too much. 

There must have been something about the way you looked at Mr. Riley that caught attention. Truly, you meant no harm by it. Art littered his arms in the form of dark tattoos that you couldn't pull your eyes from because you had never seen ink cover the skin of someone so beautifully before. Never seen anyone quite capture the well formed muscle and veins like had been done on Mr. Riley’s arms. And really, the scars on his face and his crooked nose intrigued you. There were stories waiting to be uncovered, literature that hid behind the depths of his eyes. You just wanted to read it. That was all it was, you swore it. 

After plates had been cleaned and the table was cleared away, you learned you were not as subtle as you thought you were with your minor infatuation with your guest. Not even your intense stare at the TV screen as you pretended to pay attention to the movie Mrs. Price had picked out was able to throw suspicion off of you. Just as you had gotten settled on the sectional next to Mr. Price, you felt a hand rest on your shoulder, quickly followed by a hot breath on your ear. 

“Pet,” Mr. Price whispered, “my friend looks lonely over there. Why don’t you keep him company?” 

His proposition made you tense against his side and he chuckled at your failed attempt at keeping cool. Keep Mr. Riley company? Once more your eyes found their way to him and you felt your throat tighten at the thought. Were you supposed to sit by him? Entertain him? No, that felt wrong. You belonged to the Prices, not their friend. Then again, you were instructed to keep the man company, and good pets do as they’re told. 

Without so much as a word you rose from your spot on the sectional and quickly made your way to the loveseat Mr. Riley had settled himself on. It was difficult not to fall into the gravity of him when you sat next to him as his weight shifted the cushions, giving you no choice but to all but lean into him. You heard his quiet hum in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected you to just so blatantly sit next to him. You caught him look at you for a short moment, but you kept your eyes glued to the TV as if he was never there to begin with, and eventually he looked away. 

Embarrassment. It was the only word you could think of to describe how you felt sitting next to that man. Conversing with others wasn’t exactly your forte, it’s why you agreed to throw your old life away when Mrs. Price invited you into a relationship with her and her husband. They would take care of you, and you wouldn’t have to be perceived and go out and about in the world. They knew full well of that; perhaps that was their way of having some fun with you. 

Things were fine until halfway through the movie when Mr. Riley put his arm around you. There was nothing you could do but fall against his side as his firm hand settled against your waist. He held you close to him as if he had no intention of letting you go, and yet acted as if he had never done so in the first place as his attention stayed fully trained on whatever boring movie droned in the background. Blood gushed in your ears and panic settled into your chest. Surely that had broken some sort of rule, and yet when you glanced over to the Price’s with wide eyes, you realized that they couldn’t even care less. 

So you took a deep breath in some attempt to calm yourself, and once the blood settled in your veins, you realized that you could hear Mr. Riley’s heart. Each beat was strong and steady as if it had never wavered throughout its entire existence, and its reverberations were so strong you could feel it pulse throughout your own body. You took another deep breath, this time more content, and realized you rather liked the smell of him too. Some sort of dark, soft aroma mixed with the faint scent of cigarettes. It was comforting, perhaps the most calm you had felt in a long while. 

“Cute, isn’t she?” 

It wasn’t until Mrs. Price spoke that you realized you had fallen asleep like that, tucked into the side of a man you hardly knew. Cold hands pulled you away from the warmth that was Mr. Riley, and half awake you were brought to your room without the chance to glance at him from over your shoulder. Despite it all, Mrs. Price cooed at you while she laid you down in your bed and tugged the blankets over your body with a simple kiss to your forehead. 

“Goodnight, pet,” she cooed before closing the door behind her. 

That night you fell asleep alone in your cold bed while dreaming about the warmth Mr. Riley had given you. It was something you could only ever pray for when craving something from the Prices, and yet he had given it to you so willingly, as if you didn’t deserve anything less. Maybe it was unfair of you to compare the people who had given you so much to a man who you hardly knew. Friendly. That’s all he was. But it didn’t end there. Every time Mr. Price invited him over, he always directed you to Mr. Riley’s side eventually, talking about how lonely he looked, or that you should be a good host to him. 

Soon enough it got to the point where you didn’t even need prompting; you already knew your place was next to Mr. Riley. Curled against his side, hanging off his arm, even sitting on his lap, in one instance. Each touch that he gave you seared across your skin, but it was always respectful, nearly too respectful. Fingertips always gliding along your waist but never dipping low enough to caress your hips or grope your ass, nor high enough to brush against the underside of your breasts. His touch always left you craving more, and yet that was something he didn’t seem to intend on giving you.

He did, however, give you a new name. Sweetheart, he called you. It was something he whispered to you at first from the safety of the confines of his arms, as if he worried Mr. Price would overhear him and reprimand him for it. Then he became a bit more brave. He called you sweetheart when he asked you to pass him the salt at dinner, and then again when you eventually fell asleep on the couch and he offered to carry you to your room. Some strange part of you wished he stayed with you that night, but you knew that thought alone made you a bad pet, wanting anyone other than the people you belonged to. 

But the thing was, the more warmth Mr. Riley showed you, the colder the Price's home felt, because even after all that time, it wasn’t really your home. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” 

Loud music and even louder people caged you into that VIP room, suffocating you to the point you nearly passed out. It didn’t help that Mrs. Price had dressed you up like her personal doll, slathering makeup on your face and throwing you in a skimpy dress, you hardly recognized yourself in the mirror. And still, despite it, Mr. Riley had found you and settled on the spot next to you in the conversation pit. 

“Mr. Riley,” you greeted as you uncomfortably pulled at the skirt of your dress. 

“Mrs. Price dress you up in that?” he asked.

You half expected him to wrap his arm around you like he did every other time the two of you were close to one another, but he didn’t. Perhaps there were too many prying eyes nearby and he didn’t want to spark any rumors. Either way, his presence alone was comforting enough. You always hated going to Mr. Price’s club, and that night was no exception. Too loud, too many eyes, you were always out of place. 

“Was it that obvious?” you asked with a half-hearted chuckle. 

“Just doesn’t seem like you,” he responded gruffly. 

Of course not. Extravagant things weren’t meant for a pet. “Yeah. Probably not.” 

Even from a distance you could still make out the faint scent of him. That warm musk mixed with tobacco had started to smell like home. And it was wrong, you were sure of it by that point. At what point did Mr. Riley become more comforting than the man and woman you lived with? But at that moment, with so many people crowding you, you didn’t care. Closing your eyes, you blocked out everything else around you except for him. There was no music, no mingling guests, no rancid scent of alcohol; it was just you and him. 

Until the sudden sound of clapping brought you back to reality, anyway. Your eyes shot open and you were met with the same view as before, just more still. A quick glance around revealed everyone staring at Mr. and Mrs. Price, who stood at the front of the room, all cooing and cheering and clapping for them. They held one another as a few people rushed up to talk to them, where you heard squealing and several pats on the back. Confused, you turned to Simon with your head tilted to the side like a curious dog. 

“What happened?” you asked. 

With a simple nod of his head, Mr. Riley gestured up to the couple at the front of the room. “They just announced Mrs. Price’s pregnancy,” he said. 

Those words left his mouth so simply. So nonchalantly. As if you should have known. 

You should have known. But you didn’t. Because no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, they didn’t really love you. 

You’d forgotten the first and only rule.

You didn’t know how you ended up on the terrace, you just stopped running when the cold night air hit your skin. Despite the way your tears muddled your vision, everything became painfully clear. This was their plan all along. To get pregnant, to start their life and continue it without you. It’s why they never kissed you, only ever played with you, refused to fuck each other in your presence; you were always meant to be disposable. Why continue to take care of a pet with a child on the way? 

And it hurt because you knew you’d never have that. Never obtain that unconditional love, a kiss on the lips, a cock in your cunt, a child in your arms, because you had been the Price’s plaything. Their pet who never dared to bare her teeth. You’d never be the sweet little wife, only some poor, skittish animal that only knew how to play. But you craved it so bad you swore you’d die. You wanted to be someone’s wife, someone’s lover, to be loved, to have kids and a home that wasn’t cold as ice. 

That life just wasn’t for you.

“You alright, sweetheart?” 

Somehow, Mr. Riley always seemed to find you. It was as if some invisible string had been tied between the two of you, and no matter how knotted it got he would always make his way back to you. Unsure if you should welcome his presence or not, you kept your hands firmly on the terrace railing and your red eyes focused out on the city in front of you. Your tears blurred the sparkling lights so much that you could nearly confuse them with stars if you squinted hard enough, yet that realization did nothing to quell the anxiety and terror that ate away at your stomach. 

“I’m alright,” you pitifully assured, although you weren’t too convincing. 

Mr. Riley’s hand touched the exposed skin of your back where his thumb started to rub small circles into your flesh. You nearly crumbled at the contact as you were drowned in the overwhelming urge to throw yourself at him, to beg to be loved even if only for a short while. Instead, your grip on the railing only tightened as you focused all your energy into not letting another tear fall. 

“John told me to watch you for the night. Take you back to my place,” he said softly. 

His words weren’t surprising. Sending you off to spend the night with him was just the next step to getting rid of you. Why would they want you in the home when they’d have someone new to prepare for? You were certain your room would be turned into a nursery before long. After a moment, you turned to face him and you did your best to muster your strongest of smiles as you ignored the stinging behind your eyes. He looked at you with such pity that you nearly broke into tears once more. 

“Lead the way.”

It had been so long since you had visited someone that you forgot what it was like to walk into a room and not have every inch of it memorized. Mr. Riley’s apartment was something you didn’t recognize, yet it wasn’t completely unfamiliar. In a vague sort of way, it smelled like him, and that was enough to calm your nerves and silence the pain that festered in your stomach. It was rather plain as far as decorations went, but it was cozy and warmer than anyplace else you had been for quite some time, and that was more than enough for you. 

First order of business was getting you a glass of water, something Mr. Riley took care of right away. Such a small gesture, and yet it had your heart swelling in an odd and unfamiliar way. Still, you were thankful for something to soothe your sore throat, and the two of you sat in silence on the couch as he ensured that you drank every last drop. 

“Do you wanna change into somethin’ more comfortable?” he questioned when you handed him your empty glass. 

“I don’t… have a change of clothes,” you said meekly. 

“You can wear some of mine,” he insisted.

Something within you wanted to decline. Wearing his clothes certainly broke some sort of rule, and you doubted that the Prices would be happy with you for it. But then there was a pang of sorrow that echoed throughout your chest, a painful reminder that you no longer belonged to them, and probably hadn’t for quite some time. 

Like a lost dog, you followed behind Mr. Riley until you reached his bedroom. His bed was bigger than you had anticipated it to be, significantly bigger than yours, and it was well made. A dark duvet covered the expanse of the mattress, and when you sat on the edge of it you sunk into it as if it welcomed you home. Maybe if you laid back on it you could fall asleep and never have to face the painful truth of the reality you found yourself trapped in. 

It didn’t take him long to fish out a simple shirt and a pair of drawstring shorts for you to change into, but when Mr. Riley turned to face you, it was as if he had turned to stone. Maybe it was the tear-smudged makeup stains on your face, or the fact that he hadn’t seen you look so content until you sat there on his bed, but he looked at you with such intense pity your chest ached. Eventually he got his body to listen to him and he carefully approached you and set the clothes on the mattress next to you. 

“I’m sorry,” he said unprompted. 

“For what?” you asked, eyebrows drawing together. 

“That they abandoned you.” 

Hearing it outloud was more excruciating than the initial realization. Abandoned. Tossed aside. Just a spare. Your chest ached so fiercely it felt as if your body split in two, and there was nothing you could do to stop the tears and sobs from flowing forth. It was pitiful and pathetic, and you hated how terribly small you felt. There were so many tears inside of you that you could wipe the earth clean with them, yet as you cried you didn’t feel any less dirty or used. 

Then the bed sunk down next to you, and instead of sitting on the mattress you had been scooped up into Mr. Riley’s arms and into his lap. His arms were the only thing that held you together in that moment, and he carefully tucked you underneath his chin and squeezed all the sorrow from your body. A cautious kiss pressed into the top of your head, slow and wary as if the very act itself was forbidden. When you didn’t protest, he kissed again, and then again, as if he couldn’t get enough. It was the closest thing to being loved you ever felt, and that realization only broke you further. 

“I just… I just wanted what they have,” you admitted once your sobs had dwindled to small hiccups. “I always thought that they’d let me be a part of it eventually. But I’ve been waiting so long and then… then they get pregnant without telling me and I realized I’ll never be good enough. Never enough to be kissed, or held, or loved. That’s all I wanted.” 

After placing one final kiss against the top of your head, Mr. Riley carefully moved your face away from his chest to tilt your head up to force you to look at him. Irritated from crying, your eyes were a bright pink shade, and so terribly swollen you had difficulty opening them fully. Still, his thumb smoothed over your mascara-stained cheek and you felt his grip grow tighter around you. 

“You deserve so much more than what they did to you,” he whispered, his whisky scented breath fanned across your face. “They were selfish, yeah? Dunno how they could be. First time I laid eyes on you I wanted you. Wanted to love you, to prove that you’re worthy of it.”

A few more fat tears rolled down your cheeks at his words just for him to quickly wipe them away. You had never received such kind and comforting words from anyone before, least of all the Prices. But his words held meaning, you knew they did. How could he look at you so softly and lie? No, it was impossible. His words were true and you could feel your want grow in the dark cavern of your stomach. 

“Mr. Riley…” you said at a loss for anything to say.

“Simon,” he corrected. “Say my name and I’m all yours, sweetheart. I’ll give you that love, that life, you deserve.” 

Maybe it was wrong to want him as badly as you did. Something dark and primal inside of you craved him and every inch of his tattooed skin, and yet you felt shame for feeling so. But why? You had been abandoned. A bit of comfort was the least bit you deserved. 

“Simon,” you whispered.

His lips crashed into yours not even a second later, and the feeling nearly had you sobbing into his mouth. It felt so pure, so overwhelming. Finally, you could taste someone. Taste the spice of whiskey and the smoke of cigarettes rather than just the salt from your tears. By instinct your arms wrapped around his neck and you pulled yourself closer to him as if you wouldn’t be satisfied until you were nestled in the warmth of his chest inside of his ribcage. 

Eventually, your bodies collided with the mattress and you found yourself caged in by Simon’s arms as he hovered over you. His tongue slipped into your mouth and you felt him groan into you like he had never had such a tasty meal. Then his lips began to wander, and he kissed along your jawline, neck, and further down to your stomach. It was the first time someone kissed your body and it felt like you were being given something rather than having something taken away. 

“So gorgeous,” he whispered against your stomach. His hands dipped underneath the short skirt of your dress and pushed it up over your hips, exposing your panties. You let out a shaky breath as he kissed your clit through your underwear, and you realized you had never had someone’s mouth on you like that before. “Wanna taste you, sweetheart. Tell me I can.” 

It was strange to have someone ask permission before doing something with you, and you felt your throat grow dry at the thought. Strange emotions swirled like a storm in your head where sorrow mixed with desire among other terrible conflicting emotions, and all you could muster was a simple nod. You just wanted it all to stop, for him to take away the pain no matter the cost. 

“Need you to use your words,” Simon mumbled against your heat. 

“Yes!” you spoke. The word erupted out of you with little regard for any of those confusing feelings muddling your mind. “Please…”

With a swift yank Simon pulled your panties past the swell of your hips and you raised your legs into the air to let him pull them fully off of you. After tossing them somewhere behind him, he lowered himself onto the mattress and kissed your cunt once more, this time fully bare, which sent a jolt throughout your body. He hardly gave himself the time to admire your body before his tongue began to greedily swipe along your clit. It felt so foreign and unfamiliar yet so intense you found your legs instinctively squeezing shut. Simon only chuckled against you as he pressed his hands on the inside of your thighs to keep himself from suffocating too soon. 

There was nothing you could do to stop the way your back arched off the bed in pure bliss. Already he had given you more pleasure in a few moments than you had received in your entire relationship with the Prices, and you bit into your lip as you mumbled out sweet nothings into the heavy air above you. Once you had grown wet enough with his spit and your own arousal, Simon carefully slipped a finger into your heat and you gasped at the sensation. You had never felt so full before and your muscles pulsed around him in greedy response. Despite all the pain and heartache you experienced that night, nothing could drown out the overwhelming mantra of more that reverberated throughout your entire body. 

When Simon pulled away from you, your first instinct was to sit up and pull him back to you, but you paused when you saw the way he looked at you. Dark, heavy eyes pierced through you, and you watched in awe as he sat back and slid his shirt off his body in one swift motion. He was so big. Hardened muscle covered with a thick layer of skin and healthy layer of fat, he collapsed on top of you where his lips were on yours once more. His taste was different this time. It wasn’t just whiskey and cigarettes. There was this earthy sapor mixed with it, and it took you a moment to realize that you tasted yourself on his lips. 

Then something ripped. Threads of cloth tore a part, and you realized you could no longer feel the dress around your body anymore. Whatever clothing you had worn had been replaced by Simon’s chest pressing against yours, and the skin to skin contact made your head spin. 

“Don’t need that anymore,” Simon mumbled against your lips. “Don’t need anythin’ of theirs anymore, yeah?” 

You nodded in agreement until you remembered what he said earlier about using your words. “Yeah,” you breathed. 

His lips descended down to the soft tissue of your neck while he started to grind his hips against yours. The rough fabric of his jeans were all too stimulating against your needy and swollen clit, and you whined into Simon’s neck as you writhed underneath him. 

“Do you want more?” he asked as he continued to grind his hardening bulge against your sex. “I’ll give you anythin’. Just gotta ask for it.” 

“You,” you blurted out without so much as a second thought. “Please Simon, I need you.”

There was no more time to waste. With one hand, Simon reached down and unzipped his pants where he released his painfully hardened cock. You felt as he teasingly ran his leaky tip along your slit, smearing precum against you until he carefully dipped down into your hole. Hardly even an inch inside of you and you realized he was significantly girthier than his fingers were, and you found your head falling back against the mattress with a moan at the stretch of him. 

“So goddamn perfect,” Simon grunted as he continued to push deeper and deeper into you. “Gonna give you the whole world. Anythin’ you want. Deserve so much more than them, fuckin’ christ, sweetheart.” 

More tears poured down your face by the time he bottomed out. It was all just too much, so much anguish and love melding into one confusing feeling in your mind. Yet Simon kissed away every single tear as he began to carefully thrust into you. Each time he moved in you an all consuming wave of pleasure rippled through your body, forcing moans to mix in with your cries in some sort of lamentable symphony. 

“I know, I know,” Simon cooed as he placed a fat kiss against your cheek. “You’re mine now, yeah? My girl. Gonna treat you properly. I’ve got you, love.” 

Through it all, he was so soft with you, so warm, and you felt that heat begin to pool in your stomach. Every thrust into you marked you, it scratched away the essence of everything the Prices had done to you, what they didn’t do to you. Every empty space that had collected dust inside of you was filled by Simon and the searing passion he pumped into you. That was all you had ever wanted. To be seen, to be touched, to be loved. You had finally found it. 

When you came, you did so with a sob. Muscles seized and you wrapped your arms so tightly around Simon’s neck he had no choice but to collapse against your chest as he continued to thrust into you. Your tears soaked into his hair as you sloppily kissed the top of his head, body still craving more of him despite the endorphins that ravaged your body. 

“There she is,” Simon sighed, his voice a low rumble. “Doin’ alright, sweetheart?”

“Please,” you begged. “I need it. Need you to come, please Simon.” 

Your plea sent him toppling over the edge and he slammed his hips against you one final time before he held himself there with a thick and strained groan. His cock twitching inside you was an unfamiliar feeling and yet you relished the way he filled you, warm cum soothing an ache only he could tame. Your grip around his neck loosened as you felt yourself melt into the duvet. All that pleasure, that love, finally got your mind to fall quiet. 

Once Simon managed to catch his breath, he gently pulled out of you before falling next to you. Strong arms maneuvered you onto your side where he pulled you against his chest where he held you firmly against him. As usual, his heart pounded strong and steady in his chest, and the longer the two of you laid there the more calm it grew. Whatever tears you needed to cry had all fallen, and there was nothing but pure bliss that settled over you as you nuzzled against his body. 

“I love you,” Simon said. He said it softly, as if it was a secret. Something special that only you could know. 

You couldn’t remember the last time someone whispered that phrase to you. 

“I love you, too.” 

That night was the first night in years that you didn’t fall asleep alone, and when you woke up you realized it wasn’t a dream. His arms stayed wrapped tightly around you throughout the night, and you woke to the scent of his musk and you couldn’t help but smile. Really smile. It was real and you were there and you were loved. You buried your face further into his chest and he reacted in kind by pulling you closer. 

“Mornin’ sweetheart,” he hummed. 

Humming back, you stretched your limbs with a groan that left him chuckling and he placed a quick kiss on your forehead. He sat up in bed and pulled away from you, which left you whining, until he reached down towards the foot of the bed to grab the clothes you weren’t able to change into the previous night. 

“What do you want for breakfast?” he questioned as he handed you his shirt. 

Such a simple question, really, and yet it felt so much more important than that. This was the conversation lovers had in the morning. Contemplating, you took the clothes from him and set them beside you as you tilted your head and shrugged. “Whatever you feel like making.” 

A small smile pulled at his lips, crooked and scarred, as he glanced toward the bedroom door for a short moment before his attention returned to you. “Alright, I’ll go get started. Take your time, yeah?” 

Simon Riley made you feel like a princess and you held nothing in your heart for him but adoration as you watched him slip out of the room, still half naked. Just like he had said, you took your time getting ready, and even then it still wasn’t all that long. You fixed up your appearance as best as you could without a mirror before slipping his shirt over your head. It was long enough that it fell down to your mid thighs, and because of that you didn’t bother with the shorts, or your still slightly damp underwear from the night before, either. 

Sizzling bacon and freshly warmed toast greeted you by the time you meandered into the living room, and you smiled to yourself at the sight of Simon cooking in the kitchen. You drooled at the way the sinewy muscles in his back flexed as he worked, and you couldn’t fight away that odd arousal that bloomed between your legs. Deciding that it was a good idea to get some food in your system before attempting to initiate anything physically demanding, you instead sat yourself on the couch.

Your phone sat face down on the coffee table in front of you, and your stomach dropped at the sight of it. Something twisted in your gut at the thought of unlocking it and seeing no messages, at realizing just how little the Prices surely missed you. Yet, you needed to bite the bullet. How were you supposed to start your new life with Simon if you were still holding onto the ghosts of your past? 

With a shaky hand, you reached for the item and quickly turned it on. You prepared yourself for its mocking screen, for the heartbreak you knew you would be able to mend later, and yet it still wasn’t enough. Nothing could have readied you for the twenty missed phone calls and the countless texts from both Mr. and Mrs. Price. Begging to know where you were at. Asking if you were safe. Pleading with you to come home. Saying that if you hadn’t responded by noon they would call the cops in fear that the worst had happened to you. 

Your throat dried out and you couldn’t stop your lips from trembling. Why did they do that? Was it supposed to be some sort of sick joke? Proof that no matter how far away from them you got you could never escape the hold they had on you? No, you listened to the voicemails. Listened to the way Mrs. Price’s voice quivered when asking if you were alright, when she begged you to come home, and you nearly sobbed. 

Something was wrong.

“Simon?” you asked as you snuck into the kitchen behind him. 

“Yeah?” he asked as he turned around to face you. 

He froze the moment he saw your face. He could read the trepidation on your face as if it were the morning paper, and he quickly placed down his cooking utensils. You hated the way he looked at you with such care and yet with some sort of knowledge, as if he already predicted what you were about to ask him. 

“Did you lie to me last night? About Mr. Price asking you to take me home with you?” you asked.

“Yes.” 

His response came quick and without hesitation and that almost made things worse. You wished he had paused for a moment to think about the way that word would shatter you, and yet he didn’t. Tears pooled in the corner of your eyes and you found your face falling into your hands in disbelief. He lied to you. He fucking lied. 

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he asked as his hands brushed against your shoulders. 

“They’re going to be so mad at me,” you cried as you pressed your palms into your eyes. It had to be a cruel joke. You wished it was. They hadn’t given you up at all, and you were going to have to pay the price for betraying their trust. 

“Hey… hey, look at me,” Simon ordered as he pulled your hands from your face. The way his hands engulfed your wrists was almost laughable, and you didn’t bother to fight against him. “I thought we agreed that you’re mine now. You’re mine, and I’m yours, yeah?”

“But you lied,” you retorted. 

“They were neglectin’ you!” he corrected, and his voice boomed with such strength you nearly cowered. “Would you have followed me if I hadn’t said that to you last night? Or would you be stuck in that house with partners who wouldn’t even tell you that they were havin’ a damn kid? No, you’re mine now.” 

One of his hands dropped down between your legs, and you gasped as your back came in contact with the counter. He palmed at your naked cunt, felt the way his cum oozed out of you at the gentle pressure of his fingers and the sudden tensing of your muscles. 

“Do you really think they love you enough to take you back like this? With my cum inside of you and the taste of you still on my tongue?” he questioned. “I did what I did to save you. I was tired of seein’ them treat you like that. I’m not lettin’ that happen again.” 

Words failed you and all you could do was stare up at him and cry. It was all so wrong and yet something in the back of your mind screamed that he was right. He was right because in one night he had given you everything you had all but begged of them to do for you in all the years you had been together. Even if they still wanted you, maybe they really didn’t deserve you. But you would still have to face them eventually. Admit that you were running away, that you didn’t belong to them anymore, and that thought terrified you.

Giving up, you collapsed against him and allowed all your anguish to spew from your eyes. Just like the previous night, his hold on you was strong and caring, and he did so without hesitation. After all, you were his girl. He saved you, and he had no intention of letting you go. 

[cherubfae]

favorite positions || {final fantasy x reader}

ft. Gladiolus, Ignis, Noctis, Prompto, Sephiroth, Reno, Zack, & Cloud

tags: nsfw, smut, gn!afab!reader, established relationships, masturbation, oral, size kink, strength kink, comfort/loving, creampie, rough sex, biting, breeding kink

Gladiolus: The Clasp

Anything that lets him show off his strength! He likes being your big, strong protector and using his body as a tool to his advantage. He's so much bigger than you, his shadow often dwarfs your own, a reminder that he will always keep you safe.

Instructing you to wrap your arms tight around his neck, he smiles when your eyes meet his. Slick cock sliding against your hole, bumping against your sweet spot, he pushes into you slow and deep. With your legs around his waist, Gladio grips you tightly, groaning as he bottoms out inside of you.

He is so strong and his stamina is something to shudder at. If you want to top him, he's all for it! He just really enjoys you handing over the reigns and letting him not only show off but to please you in every way that you deserve! Gladiolus loves being able to fuck himself into you when you're pressed up against the nearest wall, laughing at how your little hole clenched around his thick cock. He nips and kisses at your throat, eager to feel you cum around him. It makes him absolutely ache.

Ignis: Missionary

For the most part, Ignis likes to keep things pretty simple and routine. That's not to say he doesn't enjoy other positions, but missionary gives him the best view of you. He loves being able to dote on you, to see your reactions close-up, and learn what exactly makes you tick.

When he's feeling especially needy, he makes you hold your thighs to your chest with his hand. His intense eyes fixate on where his cock meets your hole, transfixed on the way your body so eagerly sucking his tip in, begging to pull him in deeper.

His voice gets really husky when he's close, his accent thick, almost growling out of pure lust. Ignis lives to praise you, intertwining your hands and begging to cum together.

Noctis: The Butterfly

Being the one on bottom can sometimes make him really shy, so he prefers to be on top! Noctis is a service top through and through. If he's really tired but still really needs you and wants you both to get off, Noctis is pretty partial to the spooning position. It's just sooo easy for him to slip into your hole from behind. Letting his hands rub and stroke any part of your skin he can reach, littering the back of your neck with hickies, panting hotly, eyes trained on how well you take his cock.

When he has a bit more energy, he loves using the butterfly position! With your ass hanging off the edge of the bed, your legs propped up on his shoulders. He's sweet, stroking the soft skin of your thighs, losing himself completely; rutting into your hole with even, smooth thrusts.

Noctis isn't super vocal, mostly soft grunts and pleased sighs, but you can easily tell when he is feeling really good. How his head tilts back, mouth open in a low groan, and his blunt fingernails dig into the meat of your thighs. He lovessss the sound of the freaking bed beneath his thrusts and loves being able to make you feel good too!

Prompto: Cowgirl

Honestly, he's good with anything!! Sweet baby just prefers to be able to see your face! Prompto needs it like he needs air to breathe. He's certainly not opposed to positions like doggy, being able to jump himself into you from behind is great, it can just make him feel disconnected if he's not able to see your face or your reactions.

He wants to know that he's doing okay! That you're not in any pain or discomfort! Sex with him will be loving and fun. And while not opposed to quickies, Prompto would rather be able to take his time with you. He doesn't like calling it fucking, because that's not what you two are doing.

Prompto gets really whiny and whimpery. He's a very vocal man. Unable to control his soft moan when you sink down on his cock, cheeks ablaze, his hands flying to grip your waist firmly. It not only helps keep you balanced when you ride him, but also helps keep him tethered to reality. That you're real and this is really happening. That he gets to make love to you.

He also doesn't mind helping you carry the burden by keeping your thighs parted in his strong grip, thrusting into you from below in a cowgirl's helper pose. Last thing he wants is you sore in a not fun way :((

Cowgirl allows him to look at your face all he wishes with his back resting on the pillows. At any moment if you're too tired or if your leg starts cramping, he'll flip you two over (without pulling out if he can do so), and lie you back against soft sheets. Missionary is also pretty great too.(:

Sephiroth: Doggy-Style

Biter. He is possessive, a biter. A claimer. There's something so hot about having you face-down on the bed, white-knuckling the sheets as Sephiroth pounds into you from behind. He has a massive creampie kink and he's not gonna stop filling your hole until he is completely satisfied.

He's gonna fuck his cum back inside of you with his fingers, spreading his seed all around your hole. Nipping at your shoulder, he slams himself into you, using his strong weight to keep you pinned to the bed relishing in the sounds of your desperate moans and the bed wildly creaking; the headboard snapping against the wall hard enough to chip the paint.

If you're lucky, perhaps he'll decide to breed you, whether or not you're physically able to carry his child or not. He's gonna make you take every load you have to offer.

Reno: The Tight Squeeze

This man exudes switch energy and he's pretty versatile when it comes to the bedroom! Before doing anything, he loves oral. Reno thinks it's so fucking hot when he works his tongue over you, lapping over your sweet spots. His fingers dig into your thighs, keeping you pinned to the bed. He's messy, sloppily making out with your most intimate parts. He's gonna make you cum on his tongue before he even thinks about sinking his cock inside of you.

Moving you into the position he'd like most, Reno lies you down your tummy. Pressing his weight against your back, his hands rest on top of yours. Kisses soft like butterfly wings press along your shoulder; loving and sweet. Slowly he pushes himself inside of you from behind. Your legs remain straight while his legs are slightly spread, framing the backs of your thighs. Every thrust is sensual and deep, molding you to the shape of his thick cock.

Zack: Speed Bump

It's a lot like doggy style but has you lying down on your tummy with a pillow beneath your hips. The last thing Zack wants is for either of you to accidentally strain a muscle when trying to make the other feel good.

Warm hands stroke your back, settling down at the base of your spine just above your buttocks. Weepy cock slides between your cheeks, getting you nice and wet for him, his hips dropping a few inches lower to sink himself into your main hole.

It depends on his mood but he can be loud or he can be more quiet, letting subtle whimpers fall from his cute, kiss-bitten lips. His mind feels like putty, only able to focus on grasping handfuls of your ass and thrusting you backwards onto his dick. If he's not careful, he's gonna cum all too soon.

Cloud: The Rocking Horse

Not really one to have a preference, Cloud can be pretty fluid. One day he might prefer missionary to doggy-style, and then another he'll lose himself with you sitting on his lap facing him with his cock buried as deep as it can go. He's rather smug with how you gasp and whine at his neck, stroking your naked skin. Cloud adores the close skinship, just being able to snuggle close.

He likes how intimate it is. Allowing him to hone on how warm you are. Every clench of your hole around his cock and soft, breathy whimper. He definitely doesn't mind taking things slow especially after that initial first stretch of his cock rubbing along your walls. He gives you all the time you may need to adjust. With his hands on your waist, Cloud slowly rolls his hips against yours holding you close. A featherlight touch traces patterns over your body, marking an invisible map.

It's also the easiest way for him to pull you into a kiss. Sex needs to be slow and intimate for him sometimes. A breather. He wants to be able to take his time, to touch you all over, because he knows sooner rather than later; you always end up milking his cock so, so good. He's also a big fan of cockwarming.

|| please don't repost, reuse, or edit my works in any way! I do not give permission. Tumblr is the only site where I post. All characters belong to their rightful owner and the story belongs to me © CHERUBFAE 2024 ||

[casually-eat-my-soul]

Follow me on my delusional rant for a second: we all know that stiles was kinda but not really obsessed with the hale fire yes?? What if he just a tiny bit more obsessed with it and less with Lydia. The sheriff turns a blind eye to this because this was the most lively his son had been since his mother died. The sheriff also can’t figure why this case doesn’t feel right to him, but if anyone can figure it out it’s his son.

He goes on a deep dive about the hales. There comes a point where he can’t access anymore information legally; so he goes to Danny to teach him how to hack. This gets Lydia attention but not enough to get her to help, yet.

So stiles learns and he hacks into the school database, the police, and generally every establishment that the hales have frequented. He finds a pattern of suspiciously missed full moons, high grocery bills the next morning. He finds Paige and Kate. He finds a paper trail to the fire.

He shows it to his dad. With this evidence the sheriff looks into the case. This is what causes Lydia to talk to stiles. She pulls up to his house the very next morning the sheriff reopens the case. She liked Cora and would do anything to get the person who killed her. This cause a deeper dive of obsession. Together they look into the supernatural side of beacon hills. They find Lydia’s grandmother, and Lydia is able to understand what she is before it becomes a problem.

I’m a Stiles and Lydia sibling truther. They become that duo. Just over all becoming the pretty twins of beacon hills.

Lydia gets familiar ties to the stilinskis. Something that she doesn’t get at home. The sheriff loves her, absolutely dotes on her. He’s always wanted a daughter. Stiles becomes far more confident and comfortable in his skin. They have spa days and sleepovers. Stiles lets Lydia practice makeup on him. Lydia has her own room at the Stilinski’s, it becomes a safe haven for her.

They both watch over the sheriffs diet like hawks; fast food places are terrified when the sheriff comes in to order food. “No sheriff, I actually can’t give you a double burger because I’m still traumatized from your kids”. Lydia creates a binder of healthy meals, while stiles cooks them. (Lydia cannot cook)

Stiles comforts her when Jackson is being a dick. Stiles becomes frienimes with Jackson. When Jackson swings by the house the sheriff quietly brings out his gun and cleans it in front of him. Lydia pretends to be embarrassed but she’s absolutely glowing. Jackson also become close with the sheriff, especially after him and Lydia break up. (They were gay and lesbian solidarity)

With the amount of digging Stiles and Lydia did they would have figured out Peter was being poisoned. I also believe that they would have found Cora was still alive. This brings Laura and Derek back to beacon hills, starting the rise of the hale pack.

Like imagine season one Derek meeting confident stiles with lipstick. Your honour it’s over for him.

Derek still becomes an alpha after the alpha pack comes and he kills one of them. (I’m also a Alpha Derek hale truther)

Stiles and Lydia are both “little reds”

Derek and Cora being super fucking cocky that they’re mated to the pretty twins of beacon hills

The sheriff also cleans his gun in front of Derek and Cora. He’ll be damned doesn’t get to pull the protective father for his kids.

Anyway thanks for coming to my Ted talk

[stairain]

Double-Edged Sword

The only way Spencer is allowed to fuck you is to wear a strap-on.

Warnings: Sub Spencer, strap-on (he’s wearing it!), vibrator, riding, crying, slapping, erectile dysfunction, female orgasm, male orgasm, degradation, self-doubt. 

WC: 1.6K

The poor man was already in tears by the time you had buckled him into the harness. Weak pleads for you to show some semblance of mercy as you pull the dark leather tight against his trembling thighs. 

“Please, please ‘m sorry.” 

Spencer cries out as he shamefully looks down at the strap-on that’s replaced his own aching cock. He’d been bad, of course, but this was pure cruelty. 

Ignoring his pleads, you wrap your lips around the head of the fake cock, the cold silicone shining against the wet buds of your tongue.

His eyebrows furrow in envy, wishing to replace the toy instead of the vice versa he's found himself in. 

"Please, it's not fair.."

Spencer's voice trails off as you shamelessly stroke the dildo as if it were real. Using your circled fist, you wet the toy with a droplet of your spit and jerk it off.

And despite his envy, he wishes so desperately that he could get hard. You’d locked his poor cock in a wretched metal cage, the cold silver bars preventing him from reaching even half mast. 

His thighs tremble from around your head, and you coo pitifully at him, your hand still torturously wrapped around the strap. 

“Poor thing, sit down, will you?”

Your voice beckons to him, raising your chin a bit as you gently push him back until his legs hit the bed frame. 

With a frustrated huff, he sits down against the soft comforter as you climbs atop him. His eyes shine with tears and pleas for you to stop whatever this punishment is.

The pupils reading apologies and lines of ‘I learned my lesson’ that you had no interest in. 

Pulling your panties to the side, you rub the sensitive bud of your clit over the artificial head of the cock that was everything but him. 

“Can you feel how wet I am?”

You taunt, looking Spencer right in those sad eyes filled with betrayal and jealousy. With your lips parted in soft sighs, you reach past him to retrieve the box that had contained the strap-on.

Your hand rustles in the cardboard for a moment, before you pull out a small controller no larger than your palm. Spencer swallowed thickly and tried to reason with you one last time.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to.. Please just—“

A loud buzzing cuts him off, and his words plummet into a strained whine. Throwing his head back, a few tears run down his temples. 

As you grind your soaked folds against the tip, the double-sided toy was pressed right against the thin bars of his chastity cage. 

Spencer’s thighs squeezed together as the pain of not being able to get hard and the constant whirring of the vibrator quickly overwhelmed him. 

He lets out a slacked-jaw moan as the metal against his shaft shakes as frantically as his body. And you relish in the sight as you sink down onto thick, hard silicone.

You lean into the crook of his neck and press wet kisses against the sweaty skin, beginning to lift yourself up and down in his lap.

“You feel so good, Spence.”

You whisper in his ear, and he’s quick to turn his head away from you in the same kind of bratty manner that got him into this situation in the first place. 

He’s breathing heavily out of his nose, trying his hardest not to make any more noises. He didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of knowing how badly he wished it was him you were riding so fervently. 

You hadn’t fucked him like this in a while, his chest ached slightly at the thought. Your drenched cunt greedily swallowing the whole toy in ways that he couldn’t help but tear up in envy over.

He missed when it was his cock that was being coated in that slick layer of white that you so easily granted to a stupid toy. 

The brunet was snapped out of his jealous fantasy when you’re turning up the vibration on his toy. His eyes involuntarily roll into the back of his skull and his mouth can’t help but unhinge to let out a loud whimper. 

The fake cock was hitting that spongy spot inside of you that only Spencer was allowed to find, and you grin evilly as you grab his loose jaw and force him to look at you. 

You’re just as sweaty as he is, but your eyes aren’t filled with remorse like his are. 

“See what happens when you act out?”

You rhetorically ask before you slap him across his already red cheeks. His head quickly turns with the force, and he lets out a quiet gasp. 

Grabbing his jaw again, you’re quick to reprimand him once more.

“Thinking you can misbehave and still get what you want.”

You slap his face in the opposite direction and feel the tracks of tears that coat his face. 

As you circle your hips and ride the strap even faster, all it takes is one look and he knows you’re close. He shakes his head and tries to speak, but he just can’t.

He doesn’t want a toy to make you finish, that should be him. It should be his cock that you’re grinding so hard on, his length that you should be tightening around, and his tip that should be stamping into your spot. 

But instead, he’s forced to watch with a flaccid cock and heavy balls as you throw your head back and cum around slickened silicone.

Your release leaks around the dildo and onto his thighs, and that’s the only semblance of your pleasure he’s been allowed to feel. As your slick drips down his skin, tears stream down his face. 

And that stupid vibrator underneath his cock is unrelenting, he’s so turned on but can’t do a thing about it. 

With a heaving chest and lowered eyelids, you lift yourself up off his lap.

The toy bobs with the freedom from your cunt and dribbles with the pleasure of your orgasm. 

Spencer’s absolutely breathless as you lower yourself onto your knees in front of him. Strands of his hair stick to his face, and he can barely muster up the courage to look you in the eye.

Your face is a blur to him as you lick up your release from the fake cock, wrapping your wet lips around the shaft and swallowing your own slick. 

With a whimper, he closes his eyes and prays for this to be over. You’ve made your point, he’s easily replaceable, he needs to get his shit together.

But you’re not nearly done with him, not as you’re undoing the straps of leather as you suck off his replacement. 

You release the harness from his body and let it drop to the floor. The incessant buzzing from the toy still ringing in the air, taunting him.

The dual purpose toy had given everything to you, and he’d gotten nothing out of it. He was nothing without you, and you could have everything without him. 

Spencer’s head is clouded with sexual frustration and self disgust alike as you make quick work of fetching the key to his dear chastity cage. 

Twisting the small key into the lock, the cage becomes undone and you pull it off of him. 

But even as you discard the contraption, his soft cock lay before you in a pathetic display of uselessness. 

With gentle hands, you reach out to cup his small bulge. There’s a sick smile on your face as you pour up at him. 

“Look at you.. How could you have ever made me feel as good as that toy did?”

He huffs and tries his best to reason with you. He was certain he was better than that toy, he just couldn’t prove it. 

“I can.”

He says matter of factly, but as you nestle his lack of erection, he’s proven himself inferior. There’s an excuse dying on the tip of his tongue the moment he gets distracted by the soft caresses you deal to his flaccid length. 

It feels so good, but he simply couldn’t get hard. The cage had rendered him useless for your pleasures.

“It’s okay, Spence. We can just use the strap from now on..”

You softly murmur as you run your thumb against the soft head of his cock. The pathetic little thing leaks a drop of sticky precum, and you swirl it around as you can physically feel his refusal to your suggestion. 

“N-No. I’m better than that thing, please..”

He whines gently, having been broken down by whatever mind games you’ve played with him. 

Maybe the toy was better than him. At least it stayed hard, and at least it wasn’t about to cum from just a few soft touches. 

There’s a dull ache in the pit of his stomach, and a tingling in his pathetic little cock that he simply can’t ignore. 

Spencer tries his absolute hardest to hold out, but before you’ve even got a chance to rebuttal his pleads, a shaky moan forces its way from his throat as he spills over your thumb and pointer finger. 

As hot droplets of cum coat your fingers, you sigh almost disappointingly and watch as his release covers his soft length. 

“‘M sorry, I’m sorry.” 

He pitifully whispers as his entire body trembles with the aftershocks of a sorry excuse for an orgasm. 

The toy that resides the role of his rival mocks him. Vibrating gently against the wooden floors that his sticky ribbons drip onto. 

You stand up slowly and press a kiss against his tear stained cheek, knowing that he’d be on his best behavior from here on out.

[fauustic]

Hello! I hope you are having an excellent day! Soo I saw you asked for Miguel requests so.. only if it's possible and if you could, may I request some Miguel O'Hara dating hcs?? Please and thank you! ^^

you are so sweet! thank you for being for my first request, anon!!

Dating Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

gender-nonconforming reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara

comfort, fluff. angst. miguel's complicated, but he loves you more than anything.

warnings: insecurity, possessiveness, brief/subtle obsession? he's totally devoted to you, but in truth he just absolutely adores you. again, my spanish isn't the best so i had aid using a translator!

word count: 1745

You thought Miguel was infatuated before as he snatched any chance he could be with you? The moment he officially became your boyfriend, he couldn’t go one moment without reminding you of his affections.

Miguel is intense, eager to express how much he loves you after so long of keeping it contained. He can’t get enough of you, as his lips finally brush against yours– it takes him so much control to not black out and have his way with you.

It's not that he has a high sex-drive, he’s just so reliant on physical affection for reassurance. Miguel will take every chance to ghost his lips over your skin, whether it be between the juncture of your neck and shoulder or treating your hands as if they were made of gold. He felt as if it was his purpose to make you feel cared for, as his teeth grazed your knuckles.

His trust had been broken many times before you stepped in his life, which shocked him with fear at the idea of getting hurt again as he tried his best to open up about himself. But once you obtain his trust, show him that your intentions of being with him were nothing less than pure, the loyalty he has for you rivals anything you've experienced before. 

Though, due to the insecurities Miguel tries to keep to himself, some questions he may throw at you in the dead of night after returning back home late were heavy. He'd slip between your hold with a heavy sigh, skin still damp from the shower he took moments prior. You would ask him what's wrong, telling him he could talk about anything– and that's when the doubts and hurt rose to the surface.

"Do you think I'm a bad boyfriend, cariño?" Miguel would ask, voice broken and full of worry as if he's in physical pain at the idea that he's not doing enough for you. Not keeping you happy, or loved. Before you had the chance to wash away his worries, the exhaustion fogging his brain would make him ramble more, unearth his mysterious thoughts that he'd kept tucked away when the sun was shining. It was always a learning experience for you, and it made your relationship even stronger as Miguel learned to be more open and you learned how to reassure him that he was amazing by just being himself.

On nights like that, you'd drown him in kisses and swipe away the stray tears that may have fallen against his skin.

As much as Miguel loved dousing you in affection, he couldn't help but trip over himself like a lovesick puppy when you'd pass by a kiss his nose without a moment's notice, or slip your arm around his own to keep yourself from losing one another in the busy streets of Nueva York.

His demeanour was soft when it came to you because you were a safe space he craved for so long. And when that space is threatened, he can't help but show a part of himself that he won't ever be able to contain.

Miguel's jealous. Very much so.

He wasn't used to feeling such a way when the bouts of jealousy would flow into his veins and short-circuit his brain. Even before the two of you were officially together and you both shared the same space at work (you being a lab assistant at the time and him being a chemist), his scarlet gaze unconsciously scouted every move another individual made as an effort to be more than friends with you.

A seductive laugh from someone who leaned a little too close for his comfort or the whisper Miguel picked up on about a "bar a couple blocks away, we need to get drinks sometimes." Oh, it made him see red.

You never knew it, but your reserved, polite dismissal of intimate advances saved multiple people from returning to their stations with a burning glare or even a broken nose.

The jealousy and possessiveness came hand in hand.

So after a night of you possibly testing his patience unintentionally, he'd play off the excessive bite marks and hickies as heat of the moment the next morning. But you even knew how he felt about you, and the repetitive chanting of "You're mine, mi conejito. Mine, you hear me?" Another bite. "I ever see someone on top of you like that, taking advantage of your kindness. Los mataré." He'd sputter with his spit and your blood intertwining like the most delicious taste he's ever been blessed upon. He'd generously share the taste with you.

Gifts such as jewellery was common, but never anything too expensive or flashy, you warned him. You were more than willing to adorn the things he gifted with you in mind, but at the beginning of you two dating he had gone overboard with an engraved diamond necklace that had everyone's head spinning.

Miguel loved knowing that, a little fang smirk as he hummed to himself with his ego inflating like a balloon. You popped it easily, establishing the boundary of toning it down– but he couldn't help but forget sometimes. He'd beg for your forgiveness as he promised how he knew the rules, but the "ring he passed by on his way home was just, so you he couldn't pass up." Usually this excuse dived into a plethora of compliments, and relating the piece of jewellery to the idea that it has your favorite flower or color. You couldn't help but cave, the little argument long forgotten when he'd slip the expensive metal on you himself. Always ending with his lips to the gift and your skin in one kiss, a content expression in his gaze.

When he finally was comfortable enough to reveal his secret to you, his other life he desperately kept under the wraps, the confession was scarier than anything he's ever done in his entire life. Miguel faced criminals every sundown, putting his life at danger for his own morals. He's been genetically mutated, a painful process which he's still trying to accept. He's lost so many people in his life, Miguel would lose himself if you left too.

But as you accepted the truth, you soon accepted everything that came with it.

His teeth, the fangs he would muster up every and any excuse for, would be freely showcased now in every cackle and smile he had to offer. His obsession with biting you strengthened tenfold. You thought the amount of marks you had beforehand when he got jealous was too many? He introduced you to a whole new reality.

Of course, with the cat out of the bag, Miguel would show all the things he deemed ugly about his transformation with a guilty stance and a downward gaze. He'd get mad at himself for not controlling his retractable claws when getting too into whatever he was doing with you, he'd grow distressed at how you'd react when his surroundings grew too overwhelming because of his different, more advanced senses. 

It wasn't until you finally caught Miguel when he slipped into your shared apartment where you drilled it into his head, lovingly, that he shouldn't be ashamed to be himself around you. That's what you're there for, to be his biggest supporter. By that night, he would be bent over on the toilet seat in the small space of your shared bathroom, hissing when alcohol came in contact with his wounds and purring when a massage relieved his tension. Stories became common between the two of you, shared within the safety of bathroom walls and fluffy towels. Miguel would recall almost every detail of a specific mission or an on-the-whim job. Sometimes, he could feel the anxiety in your soul, but he'd reassure you with a promise and a sweet kiss. Suddenly, Miguel became very good at lullabies.

Miguel was needy, in a way where he couldn't stop himself from asking for another kiss when you'd already given him fifty. He also would hound to give you one more kiss when you refused, which made him pout in a way he'd never show anyone else.

Pet names became like a second language as Miguel sputtered almost all of them under the sun, except the ones he obviously found distasteful. "ángel, cariño," were no doubt something he called you often, but once the both of you grew more comfortable in your relationship he soon began calling you things that reminded him of you; "Mi conejito, mi lucero del alba." You would ask him why you reminded him of a bunny, and with a cheeky laugh he'd say because he's the "big bad wolf" in the silliest way possible. Yet, a more serious answer came to the term of endearment "my morning star." 

Miguel began calling you that due to his relief of seeing the morning sky peek through the pitch black, lighting up stars before drowning them out. You are the morning star he finds and catches every time the late night bleeds into early day, reminding him that the danger is over until the next night. You were his protector, as his scars met cold kisses and blood found the warm press of a washcloth. You kept him hopeful.

Miguel was a complicated boyfriend, but his heart bled for you. If you found yourself overwhelmed and needed a break or a split altogether– of course he'd accept your wishes. Was he truly the man of honor he tried to believe he was if he couldn't let a single person step out of his life for their own happiness?

It hurt him badly, and despite the swirling thoughts of bringing you back and keeping you to himself– he never allowed himself to cave. Miguel tried to play the hero, and despite knowing that most would view him as a monster– you wouldn't want that for him. You wanted him to be happy more than anyone ever had, you just couldn't take his complexity. And that's okay, Miguel knew that.  It's unlikely your relationship would ever take such a heartbreaking path.

You two are together still, happy and settled into your own routine. Miguel, being able to find a balance within his chaotic mind and you were able to find a purpose for someone you loved.

Miguel needed you as much, if not more than you needed him. He was absolutely enthralled with you, devoted until his last breath.

[lucyrose191]

12 YEARS LATER|S.O BLACK

Author’s note; will definitely be a part 2 to this.

Pairing; Young/POA!Sirius Black x Fem!wife!reader

Summary; 12 years after having your life ripped to pieces your godson walks into your home after returning home from Hogwarts and he’s invited someone else to come as well.

Warnings; Angst? Fluff.

HP/Marauders Master List

You had tried keeping him out in the beginning, your heart would not be able to bear the pain that a playboy could cause. You had told him so, there would be no chance of you two ever happening, never thinking his womanising personality would change, especially not for someone like you.

But if Sirius Black was anything he was unrelenting, he was determined and genuine in his advances and soon you found your heart fluttering with each sparkling smile and cheeky wink he sent your way.

Each touch would send a spark of electricity shooting through your veins and each lingering stare would burn into your skin, each a reminder of him even when you were apart.

You were sixteen when the pair of you became official, a third of your way through your sixth year of Hogwarts and the pair of you were wrapped up in coats and scarfs, adorned with a heating charm to protect you both from the cool February air at the top of the Astronomy tower.

Who knew Sirius Orion Black could be a romantic?

In that moment as he held you under the night sky, holding your hand as he raised them both into the sky, directing you to where his namesake lay, how could you have said anything but yes to him.

You had spent the best years of your life with him, moving in together at seventeen, engaged at eighteen, married at nineteen, godparents at twenty and well, twenty one had left you and your godson alone.

All Hallows’ Eve of 1981 is a day you never want to remember but it’s a day that remains as a permanent scar on your brain.

Your closest friends had lost their lives, their son had lost their parents, Remus had disappeared without a trace, Peter was dead and your Sirius had been taken to Azkaban.

You didn’t have time to grieve, you had a child to raise and offer him the best life you could and you did.

You watched him adjust to walking by himself, learn how to confess his wants and needs with more than just childish babbles and each day you’d witness as he showed more and more qualities of his parents.

Not only did he share most of his features with James Potter but he also shared his father’s cheeky personality and charisma.

However, the times where you saw Lily in him shined bright; when he’d offer to share any treat with you or when he’d climb into your bed to protect you from the monsters (you knew it was for his own comfort but it still melted your heart).

Now, that little boy was a young man and whilst it was becoming common for him to give you near heart attacks, you couldn’t be more proud of how intelligent and brave he was.

You truly saw his maturity earlier in the year when you’d had to sit him down and tell him the news of Sirius Black, that his godfather had escaped the prison he was put into for the betrayal of James and Lily Potter.

He had been hurt, you had seen that but he had handled it with grace and was more concerned about how you felt than the possible danger he was in, because you were the most important person in his life.

It was now the end of June, you had allowed Harry to make his own way home from Platform nine and three quarters upon his own request, believing he was now old enough to have that extra freedom.

It left you at home to make his favourite meal for when he gets home alone with his favourite snacks, movie and blankets set up in the living room for a movie night after dinner.

It was around five in the evening when you heard the front door being thrown open followed by the dumping of his bags and trunk being dumped on the floor.

Then heavy footsteps pounded through the hallway, shortly followed by your vision being clouded by a mess of jet black hair as Harry launched himself into your arms.

"Merlin, Harry! You’re going to break one of my ribs if you keep growing," you exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him, he was growing far too quickly for your liking.

"I had the best year ever, Y/N!" He told you as he pulled out of your arms. "I think I passed all of my tests except divination but that’s a load of rubbish anyways, Hogsmeade was so much fun and Professor Lupin was actually a good teacher- oh, he told me to tell you he misses you by the way and that he’s sorry for leaving."

You smiled tightly, Harry had told you in his first letter about ‘Professor Lupin’ and whilst you were glad he had a good teacher, it was hard to ignore the pain that came with his name, he had left you and Harry alone in a time where you should’ve been able to rely on each other, you weren’t ready to see him or speak to him again.

"I’m glad you had a good year, Harry," you replied sincerely, turning back to watch the food as he continued speaking.

"Oh, and I met Sirius Black! He’s innocent so don’t worry about it, he’s actually amazing!"

You whipped your head around as the colour drained from your face. "You what?"

Harry couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he nodded "you’ll never believe it, I didn’t believe it in the beginning either but Sirius wasn’t mum and dad’s secret keeper, it was Peter Pettigrew that was secretly working for Voldemort and after my parents were murdered Sirius went to confront him but Pettigrew framed him, chopped off his finger and turned into a rat; can you believe he’s an Animagus!?"

He didn’t seem to realise how you weren’t matching his enthusiasm or how pale you’d gotten.

"Did you know Sirius could turn into a dog?"

"Harry…" you ignored his question. "You’ve seen Sirius? You’ve spoken to him?"

"Yeah!" He replied enthusiastically, not paying attention to the tone of your voice. "I wanted to talk to you about that actually, can he come and stay with us? I assumed it would be okay because the two of you are married and I thought we could be a proper family then."

You couldn’t even process what he was saying, it was as though you had completely disassociated, how could you even fathom seeing Sirius again?

The man you had loved and married all of those years ago, you hadn’t seen him in twelve years, you were two completely different people right now. He had been through unfathomable hell, hell that you couldn’t even begun to imagine and you had changed beyond belief, for Harry to believe you could just start over and pretend nothing happened was ridiculous.

And if Sirius believed that too then he was completely mad if not plain stupid.

A scratching at the door drew both your’s and Harry’s attention and the way his eyes lit up made you feel sick to your stomach. "Harry," you spoke faintly, "what is that?"

Harry titled his head at you curiously, "Well I told him where we lived so he could come and visit me, he was glad you hadn’t moved and well he wanted to see you as well."

You slowly shook your head, feeling completely overwhelmed at everything that had just been shot at you in such a small amount of time. "No no no no no, he can’t be here," you muttered frantically.

"What do you mean?" Your godson asked dumbly.

"I mean that he can’t just show up here out of the blue with absolutely no warning, we can’t just pretend that the past twelve years haven’t happened, Harry. It doesn’t work like that. We’ve both changed and we aren’t going to go back to being husband and wife. I’m happy you have your godfather back, Harry, I truly am but you need to give me some warning for this."

Harry slumped in his seat at the kitchen table. "What, so I tell him to leave? We have so much to catch up on."

The disappointed look on his face made your heart break, you had always struggled saying no to him and had probably spoilt him more than you should have but knowing that the man you had loved more than anything was on the opposite side of the door filled you with a sense of dread.

But how could you take this away from him?

You couldn’t, it was as simple as that.

You’d face your husband for the first time in over a decade if that made Harry happy because that’s all you had lived for the past twelve years, making your godson happy.

"Go and open the door," you regretfully nodded your head towards the front door, joy built up in Harry’s face as he jumped up and rushed for the front door whilst you simply stood alone in the kitchen waiting for your past to come and hit you in the face.

What were you even going to say to him?

[sl-ut]

ceilings

PART TWO

GUYS I DONT THINK YOU UNDERSTAND HOW AMAZING THE RESPONSE TO THE FIRST PART OF THIS WAS!!!! IM ACTUALLY SO SORRY FOR MAKING YOU ALL WAIT LIKE FIVE MONTHS FOR PT 2 BUT HERE IT IS!!! I REWROTE IT LIKE SEVEN TIMES SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT (its not exactly how i wanted it to be but its here so pls stop harassing me ab it lol) (jk i love being harassed by you guys) (love u all)

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

description: ellie is put on the spot, but it seems that her choice has already been made.

warnings: MENTIONS AND (non-explicit) DEPICTIONS OF DOMESTIC AND CHILD ABUSE, swearing, allusions to nsfw situations, misogyny, alcohol consumption, mentions of guns, ellie is stupid af

words: 8.7K

date posted: 18/11/23

part one

From a very young age, Y/n had developed a deep understanding in regards to her place in the world. Girls like her did not ride out into the face of danger, nor did they scour the ruins of what was once a flourishing society for even the slightest chance of survival. Girls like her did not fight or talk back, instead they were quiet and followed orders so that someone might feel inclined to protect them. She had learned these lessons from no one other than her father. 

He had never been a kind man; the type that would send even the bravest of souls running the other way with his piercing stare and bulging muscles. He had started off with a considerably large group, only to find himself off on his own all thanks to his frighteningly short temper and his alcoholic tendencies. For a few years, he wandered through the woods on his own, tearing his way through small survivalist groups as if he, himself, had been infected, until he came across a young woman hiding out in an abandoned motel. Unlike usual, he hadn’t immediately reached for his blade at the sight of her, and instead found himself feeling in need of some human contact after so much time on his own, and offered her his protection for the nonrefundable price of her body. Scared, alone, and hungry, Y/n’s mother was quick to fall into routine with the man, finding comfort under his protection and returning it whenever he saw fit. 

Y/n often tried to imagine the man who had been so frightening to anyone who crossed his path; Almost as wide as he was tall, rippling muscles beneath weathered and scarred skin, a seemingly permanent sneer carved into his face. It was difficult to picture him as such, especially when he had been so unwell since they had arrived in Jackson. He’d been bitter since that very day, never wanting to feel like he might be indebted to somebody else, though Y/n’s mother had convinced him that neither of them would be able to survive the winter this year, especially considering that Y/n had contracted a terrible cough and was showing signs of oncoming pneumonia. To this day, he made it very clear that he only chose to stay because he knew that there was no chance of convincing Y/n’s mother to leave her behind. The years hadn’t been kind to him–the sudden transition from living on the run to such a comfortable life caused a dramatic physical transformation, and allowed his age to finally catch up to him. 

Her father was among the most humiliating parts of her life in Jackson, everyone recognising him immediately to be a raging old fool who was all-too reliant on the bottle to take away the pain of his aching bones. He’d also settled more comfortably into his role of a deadbeat husband and father, finding Y/n and her mother to be even more irritating now than when they relied on him for everything; they’d both been left to cover up bruises with clothing and excuses of clumsiness rather than admit where they’d really come from. 

Her relationship with her mother was almost more difficult to explain. 

From the time that Y/n was old enough to remember, her mother had been telling her that their lives were owed to her father in every sense of the matter. Y/n’s mother didn’t hate her, that much was clear, but it was also very plain to see that she considered her daughter to be quite a disruption of her life. Things had been much easier before she had been born–all that she needed to do to survive was to make herself available for his use and boost his ego, now she needed to not only fend for herself, but fend for her child as well. Y/n’s father had no emotional or moral obligations to her, and had even tried to leave her behind after they’d figured out that she’d been knocked up. After Y/n was born, he still considered dumping the two of them–what kind of use would a woman be if there was the chance of her getting pregnant again? It was only because of some kind of divine blessing that he found it within himself to keep them around. After coming to Jackson, her loyalty to him never strayed, and the slight resentment that she already harboured for her child grew.

Y/n fit into the everyday routine of Jackson residents almost too easily. She quickly came to enjoy the new aspects of her life in the commune such as school, taking part in daily chores, community events, and most of all, interacting with her peers. They were all so kind to her, praising her when she did well at something, and comforting her when she didn’t. People told her she was pretty and smart and funny, all of the things that her parents did not. She did not need to resort to loaning out her body for a meal, nor did she need to cower in the face of safety. At school, boys flocked to her every whim, because they genuinely wanted her, not because she was playing into their sick mind games in hopes of survival. Things such as praise, safety, and happiness were handed to Y/n so easily, while her mother had to fight tooth and nail for them. The complex relationship between Y/n and her family could not easily be explained, but those native to the commune had quickly come to their own conclusions about the trio.

Things did not remain as easy for Y/n as she had once seen them as. Those unfiltered adoring comments of pretty and smart, quickly led down a dark path and became dumb and slut and fat. There was a pattern in her life, all of those who started with the kind words would always end up saying the others at some point, though it wasn’t until Dina began saying them that it truly bothered her.  

Everything that Y/n was to the people in Jackson, Dina was too, only better. She was the kind of girl who couldn’t be stopped when she put her mind to something, and was loyal to the very end, which is what made it so difficult when she turned her back on Y/n. 

There were very few limits that Y/n had when it came to the brunette girl. She was the type of person whose laughter could warm the soul, and whose praise was comparable to a badge of honour. Y/n would take up new hobbies or interests, even some things that she never really even liked in order to have more things in common with her, and at one point, would have considered her to be her closest friend; Each time a new boy broke her heart, Dina was there to comfort her; Each time her father grabbed her a little too tightly, Dina would force her to spend the night and help her ice her bruises. There was quite literally nothing in the world that Y/n wouldn’t do for her, something she had never felt for anyone, ever, until Jesse came into the picture. 

He was the first guy their age who hadn’t shown an immediate interest in Y/n, which was quite refreshing, so she made no opposition when Dina suggested that they invite him to hang out. The first pinch of regret came a few weeks later when her friend finally confessed her feelings for Jesse. With every guy that had ever been around her, she’d never felt an ounce of jealousy when it came to other girls.

Until then. 

***

Ellie has never felt longing like this before. Of course, she had experienced the embarrassingly naïveness that came along with having a crush on someone before, both with Cat and briefly with Dina, but she had never genuinely felt what it was like to want someone in the soul-crushing way that came with the early stages of love, let alone with someone who made it quite clear that they wanted nothing to do with Ellie. Her bed felt much colder than it ever had before, and nights seemed to drag on rather than how she used to pray for just a few extra minutes. She couldn’t help but wonder how she had managed to fuck up everything up so badly that withing a few days, she had gone from wanting to keep her relationship a secret to wondering if she even was in a relationship anymore.

Well, to be completely fair, Ellie had made it quite clear to Y/n time and time again that they were most certainly not girlfriends. They were just two girls who had romantic interest in one another who spent most of their time together doing things that girlfriends might do with one another. But they definitely weren’t dating, so it really shouldn’t have bothered her when she began to notice the attention that Y/n had been receiving from the new girl. 

It was rare for Ellie to see either of them apart from one another. In fact, Y/n seemed to have made a genuine and successful effort in avoiding Ellie as much as possible in the days that had passed since they had last spoken at the Tipsy Bison. She would spot her from afar sometimes, walking in stride with her seemingly new best friend, and would watch her from a distance until her figure disappeared out of sight. On the odd occasion where Y/n’s shift in the stables lined up with Ellie’s patrol, Shimmer’s reins would be silently handed over to her, accompanied only with a blank stare and deaf ears when Ellie attempted any sort of small talk. When this happened, Ellie’s pale cheeks flushed red and her shoulders slumped in embarrassment as she tried to ignore Jesse’s awkward chuckling. 

The only thing that made it worse was the undeniable fact that Erin had publicly staked some sort of claim over Y/n. In public, she was unashamed to be near her, to touch her, and to speak to her. She didn’t feel the need to pull her into dark corners just to utter a few words, and she didn’t seem put off by any sort of reputation or rumours being spread about herself just from being seen with her. Ellie felt almost territorial when it came to Y/n, in a way she truly never had before. Any time that she noticed one or both or Erin’s hands to slip across Y/n’s waist or lower back, the auburn haired girl had to rely on her last shred of sanity not to rush over and beat her to a pulp or tear her hand right off. For the unforeseeable future, Ellie decided that her best course of action would be to become as much of a hermit as possible, even thinking as far as asking Jesse to bring her dinner every night to avoid the dining hall, though she knew better; Her friends would be utterly useless in helping her in this situation, as Dina didn’t even know what was going on and Jesse, well…

The boy had been fairly understanding of Ellie’s feelings on the situation. He knew firsthand how his own girlfriend felt about Y/n, even more in detail than Ellie did. He admitted to her that he genuinely liked Y/n, but chose to avoid her purely out of respect for Dina, though made sure to tell her what an idiot Ellie had been if she actually had feelings for her. He had successfully perfected the art of tough love, and made sure that Ellie felt every bit of it.

She truly hadn’t been looking forward to her patrol shift with Jesse, knowing that it would be nothing more than yet another therapy session; what Dina was mad at him for this week, the crazy dream he had last night, the weird bump on his ass… Only this time, there was a much larger issue at hand that turned the need for therapy to Ellie rather than him, and she knew that there was practically nothing that could have prevented Doctor Jesse, LMHC from joining her that morning. 

“You know, I really don’t think it’s as big of a deal as you think it is.”

Ellie shook her head, “Says you. You see Y/n walking your way and you run the other direction.” 

“Well, you know how Dina is.”

She sent him a pointed glare.

“For me, that is.” He continued, “I’m her boyfriend.”

“And I’m her best friend.”

Jesse tilted his head with raised brows, “Meaning that you are irreplaceable. Me, on the other hand, could be replaced by anyone given the chance that Dina’s standards suddenly go up. Will she be pissed? Definitely, but there’s no way that she would ever wanna stop being friends with you over this.”

Ellie wasn’t sure whether this was the most intelligent or idiotic thing that Jesse had ever said. She certainly hoped that her relationship with Dina was strong enough that anyone that she would be looking to pursue romantically would not be too much of an issue, though the dark-haired girl tended to be quite unpredictable and Ellie couldn’t rely on hope. Dina was the first friend that she had made in Jackson, the first person who didn’t treat her like a wild animal who’d been spooked, the first person who actually accepted her into the community. How could she risk losing her?

“And not to light a fire under your ass or anything,” he sent her a pointed look, “But word on the street is that she and Erin are getting pretty close, if you know what I mean.”

Ellie narrowed her eyes at him, “Oh, fuck you. ‘Word on the street,’ my ass. As far as everyone else knows, she doesn’t even like girls. By next week, the rumours will start and then everything will be back to normal. I guess it’s my own fault for thinking that–” She coughed and cut herself off.

“For thinking that she actually liked you?” Jesse finished for her, smirking at the dangerous glare that wordlessly confirmed his thoughts. “Have you ever considered that maybe she feels the same way?” There was a beat of silence before he continued, “Think about it, every guy in Jackson told her the same things you probably did, and the second they got what they wanted…”

“No, I’m not like those fuckers. I never told anyone anything about what happened between us. Those guys, she told me that half of the stuff they say about her isn’t even true.”

“So is spreading rumours really that much more hurtful than being too embarrassed that you were even together?”

Was it? This whole time, she had been consoling herself with the idea that she would be better than the others–all of those guys who called her a slut behind her back, all of those guys who used her for her body, the guys who stole away pieces of her until she genuinely had very little respect for herself to prevent anyone from hurting her like that again, Ellie included. Especially when, during the last few days, Ellie had been no better, wondering how much Y/n could’ve liked her at all if she was moving on so fast, wondering if all of those rumours might have had some kind of truth to them at all. There she was, throwing herself a pity party over her unrequited feelings, when she had been the one who had been emotionally unavailable, not Y/n. 

“Am I good, or what?” Jesse laughed, “Seriously, do you think Maria would be open to starting a therapy business in Jackson?” 

“Or what,” Ellie responded a moment later, “But she might, God knows I’ll need a session after this.”

***

Y/n had always had it in the back of her mind that everything happened for a reason. Every bruise was a fight that she survived, every sickness was a reminder that she was still alive, and every heartbreak was a love that simply wasn’t meant to be–a sign that the one was still out there. A large part of her wanted it to be Ellie, even more so than how she wanted it to be every guy that came before her. Y/n thought that Ellie was different than the others, she didn’t just smile charmingly as whisper pretty words before going off on her merry way, instead preferring to stay in bed for a while after they would sleep together, actually listening to what she had to say and responding in a way that let her know that she was genuinely interested. 

But alas, Ellie had been no better than the rest. Of course, Y/n had been used to this kind of thing, so there was a bit of a routine that she’d gotten used to. It was worse this time, though, even worse than the very first–but the routine was strict, and didn’t allow her to shed any more tears than she could help, and so the cycle began again. 

Y/n wasn’t stupid, despite what the others said, and she could very easily see what Erin wanted from her, though she was determined to make this time different. If she was fated to undergo the same heartache time and time again, she would hold it off as long as she possibly could. Any attempt made by the blonde to take their relationship further than a friendship would be ignored until Y/n decides that she was ready for it, though the ease that she found when it came to swerving her advances began to bring up another question in her mind; Was she really that interested in Erin? Or was she really that desperate for attention that she was willing to jump to the next person who even glanced in her direction? 

The question gnawed on her for days. Everytime Erin touched her, it felt as if someone had brought flame to her flesh, and not even in the same way that it had been with Ellie, nor any of the others that came before. Perhaps she was simply just more aware of the issue at hand than she had been before–that much was undeniable at this point. She made a real effort to put a bit of distance between Erin and herself, deciding that, if something were to happen between them, it wouldn’t be quite so easy as it had been in the past. She could tell that this bothered Erin to some degree; Her pink lips always turned into a scowl when she wouldn’t receive any more than a peck, and her wandering hands often caused the girl to stiffen, but she had yet to say anything about it, instead putting on a sickeningly sweet smile and changing the subject to something much more lighthearted. 

It would seem that Erin was less discreet about their relationship with other Jackson residents than she was around Y/n. Apparently, it was a hot bit of gossip around Jackson, considering that the girl who had a pretty scandalous reputation when it comes to men seemingly had switched teams. Her sexuality wasn’t exactly a new discovery for herself, but she’d never actually been with another girl until Ellie, and no one even knew about that. Generally, Y/n wasn’t concerned about what other people her age thought of her, as there was very little that they hadn’t already said about her, but the way that she was viewed by the older generations of Jackson residents was something that she was very conscious of. 

She’d had quite a close relationship with Maria for quite some time now, and in turn, Tommy as well. The married couple were the unofficial leaders of Jackson, and often took it upon themselves to check in on those around town that may need a bit of extra help or care. They both viewed her as someone who has overcome quite a lot in the short time that she’d been on Earth, and yet, she was miraculously able to fit into the status quo quite easily. 

A few years after he arrived in Jackson, Tommy’s brother, Joel, took up another caring role within her life, just as he had done with several other Jackson residents who were around her age or younger. Y/n quite liked Joel, and not only because of his close relation to Ellie. In fact, Y/n had somewhat of a friendship started with Joel long before she had even spoken to Ellie for the first time, finding some comfort in his unshakeable fatherly instincts; Offering her a small cup of precious coffee or another sweater when he noticed a tremble in the cold, or a gentle reminder that she could tell him about anybody giving her a hard time. He once told her that she reminded him of a stray cat, constantly showing up on his doorstep time and time again after he’d given her a scrap of food once, and now he was forced to practically adopt her as a consequence of his actions. There was hardly anything that she wouldn’t tell him, which was why she was quite excited when Tommy suggested that she start out her paired patrolling duties with him at her side. 

Joel was mostly quiet on patrols, usually offering small grunts in response her pestering questions or a stifled laugh, doing his best to seem unimpressed with her foolishness, but unable to hide the admiration he seemed to have for the young girl who seemed so unfazed by the things she had been forced to face in this world. He always made sure to ask her about her own wellbeing, usually when they would stop to pick at the sandwiches that Maria had packed for them.

“Anyone givin’ you any trouble?” He would always ask, quickly followed up by, “Aside from what you go lookin’ for, that is.”

At this, she would usually give him a little explanation of her personal life; Who she had spoken to the day before, who she thought was nice and who wasn’t… Joel wasn’t usually one for gossip, but he didn’t mind having to listen to her drone on about what the Jackson youths were up to lately, especially when it may or may not concern Ellie. 

“And your daddy?” He always asked her this at some point or another. It was no secret around Jackson that her father wasn’t exactly the nicest guy around, especially towards his daughter, nor was her mother doing much to look out for her. “He treating you and your momma alright?”

Her lips tightened into a grimace, stuffing a large bite of her sandwich into her mouth, “Same as always.”

“He hurtin’ you at all? You know if he is–”

“He isn’t. Not since last time.” She affirmed, peering intently down at the half-mauled sandwich in her lap, “Besides, you’ve got bigger fish to fry; Don’t think I haven’t heard about Miss Gonzalez bringing you that apple pie last week.”

“It was pecan, actually.” Joel groaned, shaking his head and hiding his smirk, “You’re talkin’ to me about my love life?”

Y/n chewed her bottom lip, “Didn’t take you as the type to listen to rumours, Miller.”

“‘M not talkin’ about any rumours.” He gave her a firm look, one that knew far more than she had expected. “A girl as smart as you can’t’ve forgotten whose backyard you’ve been sleeping over in.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He rolled his eyes, “‘M not tryin’ to pry, I only mean…fuck. All ‘m tryin’ to say is that I think you make her happy. I know she and I aren’t exactly in the best place, but that’s all I want for her. Startin’ to think she makes you pretty happy, too.”

“Yeah, well,” Y/n scoffed, trying to reign in any bitterness she felt towards the girl, “Not happy enough.” She forced the remainder of her sandwich into her mouth, her words coming out muffled, “Let’s get moving, it’s gonna be dark soon.”

***

Y/n had always had it in the back of her mind that everything meant something. Every bruise was a fight that she survived, every sickness was a reminder that she was still alive, and every heartbreak was a love that simply wasn’t meant to be–a sign that the one was still out there. A large part of her wanted it to be Ellie, even more so than how she wanted it to be every guy that came before her. Y/n thought that Ellie was different than the others, she didn’t just smile charmingly as whisper pretty words before going off on her merry way, instead preferring to stay in bed for a while after they would sleep together, actually listening to what she had to say and responding in a way that let her know that she was genuinely interested. 

But alas, Ellie had been no better than the rest. Of course, Y/n had been used to this kind of thing, so there was a bit of a routine that she’d gotten used to. It was worse this time, though, even worse than the very first–but the routine was strict, and didn’t allow her to shed any more tears than she could help, and so the cycle began again. 

Y/n wasn’t stupid, despite what the others said, and she could very easily see what Erin wanted from her, though she was determined to make this time different. If she was fated to undergo the same heartache time and time again, she would hold it off as long as she possibly could. Any attempt made by the blonde to take their relationship further than a friendship would be ignored until Y/n decides that she was ready for it, though the ease that she found when it came to swerving her advances began to bring up another question in her mind; Was she really that interested in Erin? Or was she really that desperate for attention that she was willing to jump to the next person who even glanced in her direction? 

The question gnawed at her silently as she waited patiently for Erin to return with her second drink. She hadn’t really been in the mood to drink that night, but it was either that or be left alone with her thoughts, and they had been less than kind towards her lately. But going to the Tipsy Bison also heightened her chances of coming face to face with Ellie again, and she wasn’t entirely sure of how to act if she were to confront her again, just as she had last time. 

Her fingers scraped at the sticky residue that had been smeared across the tabletop, shoulders hunched and eyes cast downwards to avoid drawing any additional attention to herself. Her mind felt hazy, likely a combination of the little food she’d consumed that day and the drink that she’d already finished, leaving her blissfully unaware of the attention that she actually was receiving. It was different from the way that people normally looked at her, either in awe or resentment, instead proving a general concern for the girl who would normally be jumping to be in the middle of the dance floor or joining the few musicians in Jackson on stage for a song or two. This girl was very different from the latter, the charming smile that she would normally wear had turned into a small pout, and her normally wide and wondrous eyes were dull and bored. 

A hand touched her shoulder, drawing her out of the daze that she hadn’t even realised that she’d been in. Maria appeared at her side, a warm smile on her lips as she scanned the surprised expression of the younger woman, soon followed by her husband.

“Oh,” Y/n shook her head slightly as her posture straightened, “Hey, Maria, Tommy.” 

“Y/n,” Tommy nodded at her, “How you doin’ tonight?”

She shrugged in response, “Good.”

Maria squeezed her shoulder, “You sure? Are you feeling alright? You look a little pale.”

Y/n suppressed the minor tug of annoyance at their persistence, “Fine. Just a little tired.” 

The couple shared a knowing glance. Y/n was not the first girl in Jackson to hold the kind of reputation that she did, though very few others had their entire lives put out on display for the rest of town to judge. People talk, and between their words and the physical state that she was in, there was nothing that she could do or say to make them believe her. 

Tommy cleared his throat, “Heard you did well out on patrol today. Joel’s thinkin’ that a little while longer ‘n you’ll be on your way to doin’ it full time. That sound good?”

Y/n didn’t go on patrol often, but anyone who was physically capable of going was put on the schedule at least once a rotation. Having not been out too many times, she tended to get paired up with others who truly knew what they were doing, though Joel Miller seemed to be her main partner, which was an especially bizarre situation considering that Ellie was practically his daughter, no matter how impossibly strained their relationship may have been. Joel had always been nice to her, never too harsh when she made mistakes, nor was he a major softie who let her away with shit. Things had been a bit tense one morning when they had run into one another before their patrol in his backyard, where she had been sneaking out of Ellie’s garage-turned home in the early hours of the morning. It was a bit of an unspoken understanding of each other–both had fallen into the bittersweet situation of caring just a little too much about Ellie Williams. 

It made her chest swell knowing that he’d been praising her to his brother, but if he’d truly been bringing up the little bit of good that she’d done, he’d surely growled about how clumsy she’d been after their converstation, falling off her horse, losing the map to the wind…Hell, she’d almost shot him on accident from sneezing! Of course, even Joel Miller would be talking poorly about her behind her back, just like everyone else.

“That all he said?” She asked, tired eyes turning to the man.

He shrugged, adjusting his belt buckle uncomfortably as he shifted his weight, “That’s the gist of it, anyways. Say, you wouldn’t mind filling in on the late morning shift tomorrow, would ya? Eugene’s got a stomach bug and can’t seem to go more than twenty minutes without…well, you know.”

She tilted her head, glancing between the married couple in confusion. She’d never been asked to take on a patrol shift more than once every three weeks, let alone twice within a few days of each other. 

“I know you aren’t normally on the schedule this regularly, and I wouldn’t ask if I weren’t in such a bind.”

“I mean, I don’t really mind, but I’m supposed to work in the stables tomorrow.”

Another figure appeared before anyone else could speak, the loud clink of two glasses hitting the table as Erin’s smiling face filled Y/n’s vision. 

“What’d I miss?” She asked, eyes shifting between the couple and the girl she’d walked away from only minutes earlier. She slid a glass across the table to Y/n, who eagerly accepted it and took a large gulp. 

“Not much, Tommy was just telling us about how great Y/n was on patrol yesterday.” Maria smiled, patting her shoulder gently. 

Erin turned to Y/n with an amused grin, “Oh yeah?”

“So great that she’s even taking over Eugene’s shift tomorrow. I’d say she’s on her way to becoming a big hot shot around here,” Maria grinned, “Everyone will be talking about you soon enough.”

“More than they already do, you mean,” Erin chuckled, completely ignorant to the glance that both Tommy and Maria sent her as she turned to Y/n with furrowed brows, “And here I was all excited to work together in the stables tomorrow morning.”

Y/n glanced down at the amber liquid in her glass before downing it all in one gulp, cheeks beaming with embarrassment, “I mean, it’s an emergency. I really don’t mind, and I don’t think the horses will miss me too much.”

Tommy nodded, thanking Y/n once more before guiding Maria away with a hand on her lower back, departing from the pair with a farewell before disappearing into the crowd. Y/n’s eyes followed them until they couldn’t anymore, then found themselves locked onto an eerily familiar gaze. Ellie leaned against the opposite side of the bar, clad in her favourite black flannel and nursing her own drink as she blatantly ignored Jesse and Dina as they bickered playfully next to her. She seemed a bit surprised when their eyes met, but offered her a small nod as a greeting. Y/n’s brain scanned through all of her options; She could have run over to her, jumped into her arms and announced her love, she could have turned to Erin and chose to make Ellie jealous, but instead, she simply looked away.

“You okay?” Erin’s hand graced the small of her back, her body suddenly closer than she had previously been. “Shit, you feel kinda warm. You’re not sick, are you?”

Y/n shook her head, finally glancing back to the blonde girl at her side, “I’m fine, just tired. Maybe a little tipsy.”

Erin’s laugh sounded like wind chimes as it fell from her lips, “A little? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you down two drinks so quickly.” Her eyes fluttered, hooded eyelids drooping as she lowered her voice, “If you’re not having fun, we can always leave early.” 

The game she was playing was a dangerous one. She’d been down this road before, leaving early and spending the next few hours wrapped up in their sheets. Not this time, though, she decided as she nodded, allowing Erin to lead her out of the bar and into the empty, dimly lit streets. The walk was quiet, their fingers laced together to keep each other grounded, and Y/n didn’t miss the sideways glances being sent her way. Her doorstep finally came into view, and she knew that she needed to come up with a plan.

“This is me,” she sighed, moving to unlace their fingers and make a quick escape before her back was pressed firmly against the railing of the doorstep, “Thanks for walking me.”

“Hey,” Erin’s fingers latched onto her chin, turning her gaze up to meet her own, “Can I come in? We can just… I don’t know, hang out?”

Y/n’s cheeks warmed at her sly grin, and the alcohol was telling her to agree, “I don’t know, my parents are here.”

“We could go to my place?” The blonde suggested hopefully, “My brother won’t be home till later, and I really don’t wanna say goodbye yet.”

“Erin–”

“You look so pretty tonight,” she continued, her thumb rising to trace over Y/n’s bottom lip lightly. Her eyes narrowed, focusing on the curve of her lips intently before she finally lurched forward and connected them to her own. 

For a moment, Y/n let it happen. This was her safe place, her routine, and it was difficult for her to deny herself of it regardless of what she felt towards Erin. Finally, she leaned her head back, parting from her with a wet noise and a sniffle. Her eyes burned with the oncoming tears, tears that she couldn’t even begin to explain or understand.

“Come back with me,” Erin whispered.

“I just–I’m really tired.”

“We can go to bed,” Erin smirked.

“Seriously, Erin. I’m like, really, really tired.”

An annoyed expression cracked across her features quicker than Y/n was even able to comprehend, as if she had been masking it the whole time, “Really? You’re still playing this little game of yours?”

Y/n tilted her head in confusion, “What?”

“Don’t act so innocent,” The blonde sneered, taking a step back and placing her hands firmly on her hips, “You’ve been stringing me along this whole time. I don’t know who told you that this little innocent act was cute, because it’s really not, nor is it very convincing. I mean, what’s keeping you from putting out like you’ve done with everyone else?”

“Excuse me?” A tear slid down Y/n’s cheek.

Erin shook her head, scoffing at her as she turned around, stalking off into the night without another word, leaving behind a trembling figure in the darkness as the creaking of the front door echoed in the silence.

“You got something you wanna tell me?”

***

Ellie couldn’t figure out which was worse, the blistering heat inside the bar or the bitter winter air that flooded her veins the moment that she stepped out into the street. For a split second, she almost followed the instinct to retreat back inside and find refuge in the warmth before remembering exactly what had brought her out into the cold to begin with.

The Tipsy Bison was busy that night, bodies colliding as drunken Jackson residents laughed and partied amongst one another. Ellie found herself in need of a drink, preferably in the largest glass she could find after the week she’d had. Jesse hadn’t given up on his desire to be her personal therapist, even though she’d been entirely unwilling to give him any more information on her love life than she already had, and had been prompting her to go off and find Y/n all evening. 

Find her, was a poor choice of words, considering that Ellie had clocked her the second that she had set foot into the pub. More accurately, Jesse was eager to see her march over and confess her undying love in front of the whole of Jackson–Dina included. 

There were times throughout the evening where she thought that their eyes might actually meet. The idea should have scared her, considering that she had absolutely no clue what she might do if she ever came face to face with Y/n again, and yet she found herself moving around as subtly as possible in hopes of catching her attention. Ellie’s mind kept drifting off to the constant question of whether or not Y/n had mourned what they had, or perhaps what could have been. She had moved on rather quickly, always being found with Erin not too far behind, though her appearance was not what it usually was; her normally tamed and styled hair was quite messy, and she wore muted colours in comparison to the bright, eye-catching shades of her favourite shirts. 

She watched in silence over the entire evening, making sure to offer the occasional laugh or jab at Jesse’s expense to avoid being called out, though it would be impossible to avoid the all-knowing expanse of Dina’s watchful eye.

“Who’re you looking at?”

Ellie’s head snapped to the side, finding her friend leaning across to get a better look. The auburn haired girl shook her head, pushing her back gently, “Nothing. No one.”

Dina scoffed, “Oh please, you’ve got some kind of look going on right now. Who is it? Please don’t say it’s Cat.”

“God, no, it’s not Cat.” Ellie glanced down at her drink.

Dina leaned across Ellie’s body again to get a better look, eyes falling on the slouched figure that sat directly in her line of sight, “Then who–oh. Please don’t tell me you’re looking at who I think you’re looking at.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, “Jesus, what does it matter?”

“Ellie,” her tone mimicked a young mother who had just caught her child red-handed, “You know what it matters. Don’t do it.”

“I’m literally not doing anything.”

“No, but you’re thinking about it.”

“About what?” Ellie’s tone had a sharp edge to it as annoyance twisted her stomach. On top of the other shit that she was dealing with this week, she was not exactly in the mood to deal with Dina’s judgement. 

Dina stared at her in disbelief, emotions running across her face quicker than the speed of light–confusion, annoyance, and then finally, anger. She shook her head, taking a long swig out of her glass before speaking, “About seeing if the rumours are true, going where literally every other guy has gone before.”

Jesse coughed, inserting himself into the tense conversation between his best friend and girlfriend, “Not every guy.”

Both females sent him a silencing glare before turning back to one another.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic, still freaking out about something that happened years ago?” Ellie insisted, “If it’s so bad, then why doesn’t anybody talk about it? Jesus, even she wouldn’t tell me.”

“Oh, so you’ve been talking to her?” Dina scowled. 

“Am I not allowed to?” Ellie challenged, knees wobbling underneath her as she pushed herself off of the bartop behind her. Of course, the drinks she had would make themselves known now of all times, when she needed to at least be sober enough that she wouldn’t end up saying something to her friend that she didn’t really mean. 

The raven haired girl pursed her lips, hands resting on her hips, “I can’t make you do anything, Ellie, but I figured that it’s common decency to not sleep around with people that your best friend hates.”

“I’m not–” Ellie paused, exhaling slowly through her nose as she caught herself from raising her voice any more than she had to, “I’m not just sleeping around with her.”

“But you are sleeping with her?” Dina caught on, “Jesus, Ellie, don’t tell me you fell into her little trap. I figured you’d be smarter than that.”

“Why–don’t change the subject. If you don’t want me hanging around with her, tell me why. If she really did something that horrible to you, I’ll let it go.”

“I shouldn’t have to,” Dina fumed, “You’re my friend, I shouldn’t have to beg you to not hang out with the people I hate. But if it really means that much to you, she convinced me to ask Jesse out, and then tried to steal him from me.”

Jesse blushed sheepishly from behind her, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, “I don’t think she really tried to–”

“So what would you call it then?” She turned sharply towards him, “She told you I didn’t like you, knowing fully well that I did. Why else would she do that?” 

Jesse paused, almost as if he were about to come up with an answer before slowly shrugging, “I don’t know, but I guess you really didn’t get the full story.”

“Why are you defending her now?” She sneered.

“I’m not, I just,” Jesse rushed, seemingly unsure of how to undig the hole he’d gotten himself into, “I don’t think this is something that’s worth fighting over, right? I mean, if Ellie has feelings for someone, shouldn’t we, as her best friends, support her?”

“Feelings?” 

Ellie groaned, glaring at Jesse. Leave it to him to spill every secret she’d ever told him. She downed the remaining whiskey in her glass, wincing at the delicious burn as it slid down her throat before starting marching away from the pair, “I’m not dealing with this shit right now.”

***

Y/n’s cheeks burned under the harsh coldness of the wind. Instantly upon stepping out of her house, she felt a deep mourning for the warmth of her bed and even considered scaling the side of the two story home to sneak in through the window, that way she could have a comfortable and warm place to sleep, but would still need to stay half awake out of fear of being found by her father. Instead, she took quick steps in the opposite direction, barely catching herself as she slipped on the nearly invisible ice that covered the ground.

When she finally stepped into the warmth of the stables, she leaned against the heavy wooden door as it sealed shut behind her and finally let the tears that had been burning her waterline drip down her cheeks. Her breath left her lips in heaving clouds, the air considerably warmer inside the barn than it had been outdoors, but still quite cold. Still, she would likely sleep sounder in the pile of hay in the corner than she would in her own bed.

“Hey, are you–shit, what the fuck happened?”

The last thing that Y/n had expected to happen was to find somebody else in the stables this late at night, let alone to find Ellie there. She had, of course, come around the corner from Shimmer’s stall, having come to find some comfort in her chosen steed after her falling out with Dina. 

“Ellie–”

“Who did this to you?” Her cold fingertips slapped Y/n’s own palms away from her swollen jaw, lightly pressing them into the purple flesh and tilting her head back to examine the dark collar that had begun to bloom around her throat. Y/n’s silence seemed to draw an emotional response from the auburn-haired girl, “Fuck, who did this? Was it Erin?”

“No,” Y/n finally uttered, “Not her.”

“Jesus, come here,” Ellie spoke as if she were giving the girl any option other than to follow her commands, leading her further into the dimly-lit barn to see the full extent of her injuries. 

Y/n felt a deep, uncomfortable sense of insecurity beginning to eat away at any form of confidence she may have had left. Throughout every conversation and intimate moment they’d shared, Y/n had never felt quite as vulnerable as she had when Ellie was able to see through every barrier that had been erected between them. She sat in silence as Ellie poked and prodded at her, digging through the emergency first aid kit to clean the cuts that had splintered the delicate skin of her cheek.

“My dad,” Her voice cracked as she finally broke the silence, “It was my dad.”

Ellie paused her movement for a brief moment before continuing to dab at the broken skin, “Why?”

Y/n cleared her throat, eyes darting around to look at anything Ellie’s piercing mossy stare, “He saw Erin kiss me. Turns out, he’d rather go back to have a shameless skank as a daughter than a…” 

Ellie cursed under her breath, chucking the dirty cotton pads off to the side. She tried to shake the jealousy that coursed through her veins, more focused on the girl’s physical wellbeing than their recent romantic falling out, “Why’d you come here? I mean, I get not wanting to be at home after this… but why not go to Erin?”

Y/n snorted, “Why’d you come here? Last I saw, you were having a grand time with your friends. You’re sure you aren’t afraid they’re gonna come looking for you and find us together?”

Ellie didn’t respond, taken aback at the response, but not at all angry or frustrating with the girl’s rightful feelings towards her. 

Y/n finally sighed, “Sorry.”

“No, I–uh, I think that was deserving.” She paused for a moment, “I’m sorry too, if that means anything to you. I was so, so shitty towards you.”

A small chuckle fell from her lips, “Yeah, you were. Somehow, you still treated me better than anyone else that I’ve been with.”

Ellie pursed her lips, thinking back on her conversation with Jesse and Dina earlier on, “Hey, you don’t have to answer this if you don’t wanna, but can I ask what happened with you and Dina?”

Y/n stiffened, “You mean she hasn’t told you? You’ve been going along with her hatred for me and you don’t even know why?”

“I know why on her part,” Ellie explained, “but I have a feeling your side of the story is gonna be a little different. Did you really try to steal Jesse from her?”

A scoff escaped her, disbelief escaping her features as an expression of guilt took its place, “Yes… and no.”

“Gonna need more than that.”

“I may have told Jesse that Dina wasn’t as into him as he was into her,” Y/n admitted, shoulders slumping as she stared down at her intertwined fingers, “But it wasn’t because I liked Jesse.”

“You like Dina,” Ellie concluded, a look of surprise on her face.

“Liked, past tense,” Y/n corrected, “There’s only so much a girl can take before any kind of positive feelings go away.”

“Does she know?”

Y/n shook her head, “At the time, it made more sense for her to hate me over Jesse than for her to hate me over this. It really wasn’t until you came to town and started dating Cat that I realised that I’d made a mistake, but it was too late.” A whimper fell from her lips as more tears began to trickle down her cheeks, “I’m sorry Ellie, for everything. I’m not mad anymore, I’d be pretty fucking embarrassed to be seen with me, too.”

Ellie lurched forward, grasping either of her cheeks in her cool palms, “No baby, no. I’m not embarrassed. I just, I was scared, and I didn’t understand. I could never be embarrassed to be seen with you. Shit, you probably wouldn’t even believe how fucking much it hurt, having to see you with her.”

Y/n stared up at her, eyes glassy in the dim lighting as Ellie continued to ramble, seemingly completely unaware of what she was actually saying, considering that Ellie Williams was one of the second most emotionally constipated people she had ever met, second only to Joel. 

“And you wouldn’t believe the kind of shit I’ve been getting from Jesse the last few days over this. I’m starting to think he might have been some kind of therapist in a past life or something, telling me how stupid I am and analysing my feelings. God–”

She was cut off as Y/n leaned forward, pressing a soft, barely-there kiss on her lips before pulling away, as if she had never done it in the first place. Both girls stared at each other with wide eyes, trying their best to read the expression of the other for a moment before Ellie grasped the back of Y/n’s neck and pulled her into a much firmer and much longer kiss. 

Y/n was pliant under her touch, allowing Ellie to mould her in whatever way she wanted. It was surprising to her that it was able to make her feel this good only a short while after her altercation with Erin, and how different it felt. With Erin, things felt forced, almost as if she wasn’t holding back as much as she initially thought she had been, but with Ellie, it was literally impossible to melt in her warm embrace. 

Y/n was the one who pulled away, forehead topped forward to meet Ellie’s as she inhaled heavily, forcing some fresh air through her puffy, spit-slick lips, “Ellie, I–”

“I know.”

“No, I can’t go back to how things were. I can’t have only half of you.”

“You won’t.”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise, “What about Dina?”

“She knows. Sort of. I guess it was too much to ask that Jesse keep his mouth shut.” Ellie snorted, her hand moving back to stroke the girl’s swollen cheek. “I don’t care what she thinks. She’ll be mad for a while, but she’ll come around.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

Ellie sighed, pressing one more sweet kiss to her lips, “Then I guess it’s just you and me against the world, huh?”

tags: @xmycxx @ellieseyesonly @lissanovak @erikaar @gold-dustwomxn @viswifetotallyreal @kerst666 @uraesthete @hellokitty3821 @stxrluvr @pampeop @ximtiredx @3lliesrifle @ellieslittlegf @chiao1209 @mimsiemoo @scarletnighttt @waiting-till-im-okay @salitosblog @eleactric @pedrosballsack @yourgirlcin @catostrophiclesbian @lazyotakuofficial @smelliebellie @slaysksmska @pretty-prrincess-13

[spacebarbarianweird]

Instinct

Synopsis: Astarion and Tiriel have a very busy night after a battle and have to deal with unexpected consequences.

Tags: smut, breeding, hurt/comfort, some emotional angst It's not exactly a breeding fic since neither Astarion nor Tiriel planned to have a child, but the shameless smut ended with unplanned pregnancy. And now they have to deal with what comes next. Bonus: you will learn why Astarion calls Alethaine 'princess'

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Tiriel won’t let them take her home from her.

She has never had one. Always a stranger, always a wanderer, but Daggerlake became her home. A place that welcomed both her and Astarion, thanking them for saving the townsfolk from a nasty fey pact.

Ever since then, Tiriel belongs – she has had a roof above her head and friends among the townsfolk. And even Astarion can relax because the town has a vast underground part where he is safe in the shadows without having to hide.

And those bandits decided they could take it away from Tiriel?

They should have thought better!

Tiriel steps over a dead body. The fight is over and so is her rage. She single-handedly finished off a dozen of these men and women who didn’t know who their enemy was. 

But her body wishes for more – more fight, more blood, more rage.

She looks around trying to see Astarion, but he is nowhere to be seen. It’s night and Astarion rushed to the surface part of the town letting the people of Daggerlake protect their homes and families while he, a full-fledged vampire, was going to show those bandits they had chosen the wrong town to attack.

Suddenly, someone grabs the fistful of her hair forcing her to gasp.

“Astarion?”

She looks at him and innate fear pierces her. They've been together for twenty years, but Tiriel hardly remembers him looking like this.

He looks like a vampire.

Like a vampire on a hunt.

His eyes glow red, and his clothes are soaked in blood. His skin feels feverish and his pupils are dilated. 

Tiriel knows it’s him but she also can’t suppress her fear. He is a predator, a hunter, a vampire. Should he be her enemy, she won’t be able to protect herself.

He pulls her closer and kisses her. Tiriel feels the blood of a dozen dead enemies on his lips. His strong hands squeeze her and she knows he will fuck her right here among the dead bodies in the streets of their hometown if she allows it.

Tiriel answers him with the same passion – he wants to be a dangerous vampire? Good to know – because she can be a wild warrior girl who takes what she desires.

But Astarion isn't in the mood for being dominated, and he drags Tiriel back to their home – anyone who would see them right now would think this an assault, not a prelude to lovemaking.

Astarion pushes Tiriel behind the gate. As he closes it, Tiriel gets a sudden idea.

If he wants to be a predator tonight, she should let him play till the end.

She drops her ax on the ground and rushes inside the house – there aren't many places to hide but she is going to let him chase her. And maybe fight a bit. 

“And where do you think you are going?” He growls. His voice sounds different and even scary. Nothing more intimidating than a blood-drunk vampire.

“Such a terrifying vampire needs to hunt his prey,” Tiriel laughs.

“Don’t tease me, wild girl!”

She rushes to their bedroom, but before she even manages to think about her next move Astarion jumps on her from the ceiling, pinning her to the floor.

And then he starts ripping her clothes off.

Tiriel roars and pushes Astarion with all her remaining strength. He pulls away but only for a moment before sinking his fangs in her neck. She gasps from the sudden pain but still tries to knock him down.

With every moment her movements become weaker and she finally stops resisting letting Astarion ravish her body.

He pulls away studying her face. 

“On your knees.”

Tiriel abides. Her shirt is ripped and shows off her breasts.

“Good girl,” he mutters, getting rid of his own clothes. His cock is painfully hard and Tiriel cannot think about anything but having it inside her.

He approaches her, tugs her by her shirt’s collar, and pushes her to the bed. He tears the rest of her clothes off and bites her again.

Tiriel’s world shrinks to these two things – pleasure and pain.

Astarion doesn’t waste any time and penetrates Tiriel, causing her to yelp.

His thrusts are rough and so are his touches. 

Tiriel, drunk with her own rage, keeps fighting back – she scratches his skin, tugs his hair, tries to push him as if he was assaulting her and every one of her movements makes Astarion wilder, rougher, scarier.

She manages to get away from under him, but he immediately presses her chest-down into the bed. Now, he fucks her from behind placing his blood-hot palm on her back.

Slap.

His palm leaves a red print on her butt and Tiriel gasps.

“Astarion-” Tiriel mewls as he leans to wrap his hands around her chest. He pierces her shoulder and keeps moving roughly.

He comes with a guttural groan and kisses Tiriel so intensely she is afraid to suffocate.

And instead of pulling away, he proceeds to fuck her again.

This time, he is very gentle and his eyes don’t glow anymore. 

“Astarion!” she gasps when he bites her breasts. 

“Delicious,” he mutters, licking the droplets of blood from her sensitive skin.

His second orgasm comes simultaneously with hers and she clenches around him forcing Astarion to stay inside her. 

Astarion sees it as permission for the third round. He sits up and places her hips on his lap. 

She squirms riding her orgasm and cries out something incoherent, but it seems like Astarion isn’t going to stop any time soon.

Tiriel has a weird feeling his heart is beating.

“Such a good girl,” he hisses. “And all mine.”

“All yours.”

Astarion moans in her ear and she feels his seed leaking down her sore thighs once again.

As it happens, Tiriel feels the world fading away, and the last thing she sees is Astarion’s red eyes.

**

When Tiriel wakes up, her body is sore and her skin feels disgusting. The mess between her legs has caked and the bite marks all over her body itch.

She gets up and gasps with a sudden pain – her body is covered in bruises, and she doesn't know which of them are from her enemies and which are from her lover.

Probably teasing Astarion was a bad idea.

She needs to bathe.

Tiriel puts her legs on the floor and notices her clothes folded up carefully. 

And repaired.

She smiles at the thought that all these hours of her sleep Astarion was right there sewing and watching her. He loves watching her sleep. When she asked him about this habit before, he confessed that he didn’t see a point in looking at anything else but her. 

Tiriel opens the door of the bathroom – Astarion sits in the hot water with a book he puts down the second she enters.

“Careful, darling, entering like that. I might want another round.”

“I can barely walk. Spare me, my lord.”

Astarion chuckles and tugs Tiriel into the bathtub.

“How much did I sleep?”

“Almost a day.”

Tiriel sits beside him and Astarion places his head on her chest.

“You know, everyone would think we should be less passionate two decades into our relationship.”

Astarion kisses her shoulder. “You are not getting any colder.”

“Oh no, you love me only for my body warmth! And what if some vampire turns me into an undead?”

Astarion doesn't answer immediately. A decade ago this joke would offend him so much he wouldn’t have talked to her for the whole day – but the nightmares and terrors of his past life have been left behind.

“Then we would lie in each other arms in front of a fireplace, forever young, forever beautiful”

She caresses his ears and he nuzzles her collarbone. 

Then Tiriel looks into the water.

“How much did you drink yesterday?”

“A lot.”

Tiriel sighs and straddles his lap, feeling his hardness between her legs. Astarion doesn’t hesitate – a second later, she is already rolling her hips as his cold cock gets warmer inside of her.

“You know… You feel much better… when you are like that,” she admits. “Cold, no heartbeat. That’s more to my liking.”

**

Tiriel feels awful. It seems like her own body is revolting against her.

“Go to see the healer,” Astarion asks. “Tiriel, honestly, if you don't go yourself, I will drag you there.”

“Tyrant.”

“And you behave like a child! Gods, sometimes I forget I am 200 years older than you!”

Tiriel looks at him and frowns. “You are not.”

“Tiriel, you are my sunshine and my love, but your lack of cognitive abilities is beyond me. How old were you when we met?”

“Thirty-six.”

“Good. By that time, I had been enslaved for 200 years and I was turned at 39. I am more than two centuries older than you.”

Tiriel wants to say something, but she vomits again.

“I'm just sick! Aaah!”

Astarion pulls her up and slings her on his shoulder as if she were his war bounty.

Despite all her efforts, she can’t free herself and accepts her fate. Thankfully, it's rather late and most of the townsfolk are asleep, though she notices a jealous look from a baker.

“Put me on the ground.”

“Let them see what real relationships look like. You know that the blacksmith’s daughters asked me where they can find vampires like me?”

“Hope you didn't send them to the Underdark?”

“I told them I am one of a kind,” Astarion slaps her butt. “But we need to remind these people who we are.”

Astarion stays outside as Tiriel enters the healer’s hut – its owner, a halfling woman, looks at her with annoyance.

“What happened, Tiriel?”

“I am fine!  My husband forced me to visit you.” Tiriel describes the symptoms. “I think I got food poisoning.”

“Food poisoning… Tell me, Tiriel, when was the last time you bled?”

Tiriel ponders. Her cycle has always been irregular –- a common thing among half-elfs. Humans are the most fertile race in Faerun, whilst elves are known to see their rare children as gifts from gods. So, Tiriel’s rare menstruations are unexpected obstacles, not something she should endure once a month. 

And besides, she sleeps with an elf AND a vampire. 

“I don’t remember. Maybe last winter.”

The healer hands her a tiny bundle of herbs. “Chew it. But don’t eat.”

The taste is so gross that Tiriel almost vomits again. She spews it on the floor - and the herb slowly changes its color to black.

“What’s the fuck is that?”

“Tastes like bile, doesn’t it? Oh, why do I have to go through all of this… I knew it couldn’t end well when we invited you two to stay here. You are pregnant.”

“I am… what?”

“You are pregnant, Tiriel.”

“With all due respect – my husband is a fucking vampire! I think his ability to fuck a child into anyone went to the grave along with his breathing, heart beating, and food preferences!”

“I am sure I’ve heard of half-vampires. Now go! I have more urgent patients to take care of. You know, it was a bad idea to use the innkeeper like a battering ram!”

Tiriel leaves the hut feeling as if she was just hit with something heavy.

“Tiriel?” Astarion looks worriedly. “What did she say?”

Tiriel is so scared she wants to cry. There is something inside her, something alive and growing – she can think of her husband as an elf all she wants, but right now she carries something half-dead inside her. Something unnatural. Something… that belongs to the shadows more than to the realm of mortals.

“My sweet, what is it?” Astarion demands. “What happened?”

And Tiriel confesses.

“Maybe… is it a mistake? She could have made a mistake! Gods! No, it can’t be…” He panics.

“Too much blood,” Tiriel says.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve drunk too much, remember? I could hear your heartbeat. You were almost alive…. And I…” Tiriel hesitates. “I have my period once a year. It probably was the day when I could conceive.”

Astarion shakes his head. He gets anxious. Scared. She knows this face too well.

“Astarion!” She tries to grab his hand, but the vampire is too fast. In a moment, he disappears in the tunnels. “Astarion!”

Tiriel stays alone in the streets. She sniffs and returns back home, so quiet and silent.

She can’t imagine Astarion leaving her, but she also can’t imagine herself pregnant. 

Maybe he is right, the healer could have been mistaken. She needs to wait. Yes, Tiriel needs to wait.

Astarion doesn’t return in the morning. He doesn’t return the next day. Tiriel feels terrible – she can barely eat or walk. The very thought of going after her husband feels exhausting – she just wants to lie in her bed without making any coherent movement.

She also constantly cries – Tiriel tries to justify it with the feeling of loneliness, but deep inside she knows the answer.

These are the mood swings a pregnant woman endures. 

**

Astarion has never felt so shitty and pathetic in the last twenty years.

He despises himself for his fear and doubts.

His nature demands him to run. To leave and never return. Whatever Tiriel has inside, he can’t deal with it. He can’t be a parent. He doesn't want to become one.

Two centuries of enslavement – only twenty years of freedom. And now what? Will he be stuck raising a child? Which might be born so deranged and ugly it will be barely a sentient being.

He can run. He can disappear and leave Tiriel. She is a beautiful brave woman, the moment the townsfolk realize Astarion is gone there will be a line of men and women courting her.

Even with a monster child.

He walks through Secomber, a sleepy town on the border between the Sword Coast and the High Wood. It took him two days to get here and now he tries to make up his mind.

And what if it’s not his? Tiriel is so loyal and loving, but what if she wanted someone warm, someone who didn’t drink her blood? She could have gotten drunk and picked a man for a one-night stand.

No, it’s not like her.

Astarion is just a pathetic coward who can’t bear responsibility. 

He has to come back. He can’t abandon the only person he ever truly loved and who never abandoned him even in his darkest hours.

But he is still afraid. He is paralyzed.

Suddenly he hears a loud cry.

He turns around and sees a human girl, maybe four or five (he still has issues with understanding human age, always assuming someone is younger than they are). She sits on the side of the road, her dress, a tiny copy of an adult one, is dirty, and her knee is bruised. The girl sobs as tears flow down her cheeks.

A weird feeling stirs in Astarion’s undead heart. A desire to console this child, to do something to stop her from crying. She is so vulnerable, so scared… and where the fuck are her parents, or whoever is responsible?!

The door to the tavern opens and a young man rushes to the girl.

“Daddy, I’ve fallen down… and…” She cries, wrapping her hands around his neck.

“That’s all, right, princess,” he answers, stroking her back. Suddenly the man turns around and notices Astarion. “Are you looking for something?”

“What? No, I just heard the cries.”

“Well, she cries so loud she can be heard in Daggerlake. If you need a room, there is another inn on the western side of the town. We are out of beds today.”

Astarion shakes his head. No. He is going back. The sunrise will meet him in the woods and he will hide in a cave. He will be back to Tiriel in two days, begging her to forgive him.

Because he can’t live without her. And he…he wants to experience what is coming next.

“Princess… An interesting pet name,” Astarion chuckles. The girl has already stopped crying and now she watches the vampire with curiosity.

“Yeah, we are far from nobles,” the innkeeper smiles. “But she is my only daughter and who are girls to their fathers if not princesses?” with these words he kisses the girl’s forehead and enters the inn, closing the door.

**

Astarion walks inside the house. Tiriel is fast asleep, he can hear her breathing. The kitchen is messy – it seems like his half-elf wife was hungry all these days but didn’t have any strength to clean the mess.

Astarion comes to the bedroom and lies beside her. Tiriel opens her eyes and touches his cheek with tender fingers.

“I knew you would be back.”

“I am sorry. I was scared.”

“I was, too. But I can’t run away from what is inside me.”

“I know, love. I will never do this again”

Tiriel places her cheek on his chest. “If the child is half-undead, can I ever carry it?”

“I don’t know.”

They lie in silence holding each other in their hands. 

“You know… I’ve been deprived of mortality,” Astarion says. “Everything normal was taken away from me. And yet I am here. Married. With my own house. Free to do anything I want. When I was in Secomber, I saw a man with his daughter. And you know, I just… wanted the same thing. To carry my own child in my arms. Because it’s a normal mortal thing and if so, I will be no different from that young innkeeper who calls his baby daughter ‘princess’.”

Tiriel caresses his cheek. “I need to go to that innkeeper and ask if he needs anything for returning my husband to me.”

“You need to see the girl. Such a lovely little creature,” he smiles. 

“Ours will be lovely too.”

Astarion elbows up. “Tiriel… we are going to keep it, aren’t we?”

Tiriel sighs. She did think about terminating, Astarion realizes. In those dark hours when he was hiding like a coward.

“I want to keep it,” Tiriel says. “Besides… I am still a half-elf. It’s not like miscarriages are rare among my race. Let’s see how it works out.”

Astarion smiles and finally relaxes enough to meditate. 

Druids hate the undead because, unlike nature, they can't change. He will prove them all wrong. His life is changing and he is too.

In the best and scariest way possible.

He puts his palm on Tiriel’s flat belly. Somehow, he is sure they are going to have a girl. -- Tag list

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[hitchyboi]

Dating Havik Headcanons #1

Y'ALL OKAY THIS IS FOR MEEEEEEE XD I NEED MORE HAVIK AND GOD DAMNIT I'LL PROVIDE IT IF NO ONE ELSE WILL!

Oki thank you~

Content Warning- It's Havik. Gore, Blood, Violance, Self Mutilation, one small NSFW bit, Swearing (That's just me)

Cuteness aggression to the max. He can't help it, his partner is so precious when he's hugging them all he can imagine is squeezing them until their ribs break and pierce their lungs. If he's caressing their face, they can feel the way his fingers twitch, itching to dig his nails into their soft flesh.

He chews and bites. A lot. After Scorpion burned his face off he realized his ability to just straight bite things got easier without skin in the way. Will hug his partner from behind and chew on their hair cause he likes the texture. Cuddling? Random bites the entire time and they range from light and playful to you think he's genuinely trying to eat you sometimes. He isn't, kinda. Just likes biting.... Sometimes he may be trying to take an actual bite. Romantic Cannibalism.

His name has become a confusing mix of a disgust and comfort. If anyone ever calls him Dairou he gets insanely mad, remembering his life in Seido in the lowest caste and all the dictatorship over his life. Yet when his partner calls him his name... its almost like a comforting blanket he's never felt being wrapped around him. He doesn't have to be Havik, Cleric of chaos and symbol of anarchy. He can let himself relax for a moment, his worries can drift away for another day. With his partner... he can just be Dairou.

Surprisingly he is a good cook. Now his method of cooking may be a bit... unorthodox. You don't really know what he's cooking with. Or how he even got it in the first place. But give him some meat, herbs and spices and a fire. He'll be able to roast up a good tasting meal.

Has issues with monogamy. Not being faithful part but more the idea of having fidelity forced onto him? He doesn't like the idea of rules or societal norms re-shackling him after he's gained his freedom. If his partner is fine with polyamory or having an open relationship, great. If his partner isn't comfortable, communicating it as a personal preference and comfort level would gain more an understanding reaction from him rather than telling him he needs too.

Man's comfortable as hell in his relationship and partner. Would never tell his partner what they can or can't do or wear cause fuck that shit. You wanna go to a club wearing a sexy ass outfit and show yourself off? He's your hype man. Go out nude, he'd support it.

Will kill a man if someone messed with his partner.

Has killed a man for messing with his partner.

Has a habit of mutilating himself at the most random of times. Almost like the habit of cracking one's knuckles he starts to feel stiff and really uncomfortable if he hasn't snapped or torn a part of his body for a while.

His partner will have to force this man to put on a shirt if they are going out in Earthrealm. He doesn't understand the social norms of Earthrealm and frankly... he doesn't give a shit to learn. He'll eventually put on a shirt if his partner insists for their own comfort

Has tried to fight police officers, many times.

Getting this man to properly bath himself is a hassle on its own. He grew up in a way where bathing was a luxury few could afford so self care isn't something he's well versed or keen on. If his partner insists that they'd join him in the bath or shower then eventually they'll be able to pull his grimy ass into the water. Once he is in the water however, good luck getting him back out.

Lil NSFW~ Any marks his partner makes on his body during night time fun will always be saved on his body. He'll never fully heal them up, scars are like a badge on honor to this man. Now he gets to walk around with more scars and scars that his partner placed on his body from how well he was fucking their brains out.

[fixfoxnox]

I Know You Didn't Take Requests But Just Curiosity... What Would Happen If Makarov Was Obsessed With A Nervous Russian Woman?

Kissing you (with your permission) for asking about Makarov I've been wanting to write with him so much since the newest trailer dropped AHHHH also I'm gonna take this as an x reader Makarov headcanon request if thats alright

Makarov Obsessed with Nervous Russian Fem! Reader

Warnings: Dub-con, loosely implied non-con, kidnapping, stalking, obsession, knife kink and blood kink, jealousy, murder

Makarov and reader meet before his time as an ultranationalist, when he's still at least a little good.

He's Spetsnaz and you're just a secretary trying to stay under the radar and make a living for yourself. Being around hungry men, men constantly away from their respective families or partners, never quite allows you to settle into peace.

You're one of the only women working on the base, and the men laugh when you jump at their sudden arrivals or hands on your shoulder. You don't find it funny, but they assure you that you have no reason to be nervous. You don't believe them, you're nervous all the time in a place like that.

There's one man who doesn't laugh at you. He's a captain and any time he makes you jump, he apologizes. He's kind and charming and, honestly, the only man on base you're able to find any sort of comfort in.

Makarov isn't sure what it is that starts his obsession with you. Perhaps its the amusement he feels when you stutter over yourself as you speak. Maybe its just that he enjoys having someone kind around. Maybe he just latched on to someone and you happened to be the unlucky victim.

Either way, it didn't matter. After a week of knowing you, Makarov is enamored. He's interested.

When Makarov is interested it means research. Research means watching you even when you think you're alone. Sneaking into your home or desk and snooping to understand more about you. He watches and learns all of your little quirks, everything that makes you tick. And Makarov is good at his job, so it's not surprising that you never realize.

Then the papers are sent. Makarov is discharged and the rumor floating around base is that it was an order by the UN after his cruel and inhumane treatment during war.

You don't believe its true, you don't believe Makarov is capable. Still, you're only a woman on a base surrounded by men, you can't voice your thoughts to anyone.

To you, Makarov dissapears. In reality, he's still around.

He joins the ultranationalists and stops trying to hide who he really is. With them, he's appreciated. His bloodlust is praised. He thrives under the guiding hand of Imran Zhakaev.

As he thrives, he doesn't forget you. He watches from the shadows, keeping tabs on your every move as he works himself up the totem pole of Ultranationalists. He keeps you as close as he can without you ever knowing.

And, in the shadows, he pushes and prods reader exactly how he wants her. He keeps men away from you, many of them never showing for plans you made. He encourages activities and learning about certain topics with hidden items for you to find.

And, when Makarov is made Zhakaev's second (only behind his son) and given more control and power, he takes no time in claiming his obsession.

He wouldn't be gentle about it. You'd been out of his grasp for far too long and now he had you here? Well the idea of bruises or bleeding skin only lit him up with excitement.

Now he isn't violent when he kidnaps you. Only disciplinary, as he says. You struggle and he corrects that action. And, as he settles you in to the base he's been staying at, you understand this is your new future.

Makarov is obsessed with you, he wants to own you, he wants every piece of you to be his. And that desire involves you giving yourself to him, giving in to his own wicked desires and playing along.

Maybe you resist at first, but at the end of the day you're a nervous person and you can do nothing but cower behind him. You're in deep, a madman is obsessed with you, and you're trapped behind enemy lines. What choice do you have but to give in and become Makarov's play thing.

Now, once you do give in, Makarov treats you like a queen. You are his after all, and what belongs to him gets taken care of.

I think Makarov is the type to shower his partner in gifts. Jewelry and silk. Anything that he would be able to physically see on his partner like a mark of his ownership over them.

He's an overprotective and jealous man. God help any ultranationalist who tries to flirt with you or insult you. After Makarov is done dealing with them in the only way he knows how, his ire often falls to you.

He takes his anger out in the bedroom in those moments. Making you beg and declare his ownership over you repeatedly.

Now, this doesn't define your more intimate moments with him. As much as Makarov loves having control, he's more than willing to let you take over and do what you will to him until he orders you to stop. He likes to let his inhibitions go under your touch.

Makarov likes to play domesticity. He likes it when you make him breakfast and see him off for the day with a kiss to his lips. He likes to have you waiting in the room for him, ready to cater to his needs. He likes playing house, pretending to be the perfect husband of a normal family.

He doesn't succeed most of the time. Meetings upon meetings often bleed into the sanctuary he wants with you and, more often then not, you find Makarov entering the room speaking in a quiet and clipped voice with other men, future plans for the Ultranationalists being discussed between them.

And finally, I think Makarov enjoys showing you off, to an extent. He's obsessed with you and he has you, of course he wants everyone to know it. Of course he wants to show you off.

But, at the same time, Makarov hates the ideas of others looking at you, of anyone else even possibly thinking that they could hold you and have you like he did

This often results in meetings or casual sit downs where you're pulled onto his lap or tucked against his side. You keep your eyes down and Makarov watches like a shark, ready to attack anyone who would so much as look at you.

Also knives in the bedroom and you should probably get used to blood, because you'll be helping clean it off of him most days, whether that's running him a bath and scrubbing it from his skin, or joining him in a shower for a much more intimate approach to ridding him of the blood.

[independentmother]

Learned Trauma

I often wonder how much my learned safety habits my son learned from me. At one time they got me through traumatic events. They still linger onto my body consistently comforting me, letting my mind and body know that I am Ok. My body trying all so hard to bring my stress hormones down to a more reasonable level. Only now I see my son doing the same things I know all to well. Wondering if it is his body doing the same thing as mine, or did he learn it from watching me. Not knowing he was learning from my trauma.

At night he would sleep with pillows blankets and stuffed animals sometimes so many I wondered how he fit. Only falling asleep if he had one of our cats to sleep with or to exhausted from his day. Sleep would hit him as fast as his head hitting the pillow. I would wonder if it was from all those years only being able to fall asleep with hm in my arms. My learned safety mechanism to know that nothing would happen to him while I was sleeping. Never sure of what the drunk sweating body next to me would do next. Or was he just a kid and it was fun to sleep with so many things, like The Princess & the Pea.

At the end of his school day he would find comfort in creating his own little bubble, normality in the living room. He old play with his toys on the side of the couch, write story’s or work on making something for the cats all with a show consistently on in the background. Was this a trauma or something that just worked for him.

As a kid I would often shut myself in my room all day. I would make my bed into my bubble and draw for hours with a tv show on in the background. When I first left his father I would find myself doing the same thing. Only this time he was there helping distract me from the world outside my bedroom door and all I had to face.

Maybe they are all learned from me and I know they are there from my trauma. Or maybe I know enough about trauma. The reaction my body has to cope with it that I can recognize it in my son. Knowing all to well that the whole time he was in my belly and rolling around on the floor the trauma of his father and I arguing was seeping into his skin forever changing his wiring.

[orangeheliophile]

Dark red

(Bakugou x reader)

Warnings: fluff.

(Emotionally constipated Bakugou, oblivious and shy reader, grumpy x sunshine trope. Puerto Rican-Japanese!Bakugou, Afro-Latina reader, Bakugou wears hearing aids.)

Inspired by the song "Dark red" by Steve Lacy.

In Bakugou's defense, this was completely a normal way to feel about you. (He's completely head over heels and is a lovesick puppy.)

When Bakugou sees you, he feels that warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest as his mind goes blank, completely absorbing your presence. He goes crazy sometimes, only being able to think of you. Suddenly, he experiences cute aggression on a daily basis. And it's all your damn fault.

But he wouldn't have it any other way. He enjoys imagining you every time he zones out. He swears he almost gets dizzy whenever you give him that damn, pretty smile of yours. The ones where your dimples show, and your eyes sparkle and the way your-

"I think of her so much it drives me crazy."

He remembers when you both first met. You were both about 4 when your mom's introduced you two. He won't ever the way you both stuck together. He even made you both friendship bracelets. Except he made them completely red, having the red string theory in mind as his 5 year old self made the woven jewelry.

Bakugou would never admit to a soul that he loves tolerates you. But he won't deny that he adores seeing you smile and laugh. And he completely melts when you jump happily or fidget in excitement. He can't help but smile every time he sees you smile. A warm feeling in his heart whenever he thinks of you. Oh, how he never wants to let you go.

"I just hope she don't wanna leave me."

He watches you from afar and how he's surprisingly grateful that he gets to sit behind you during class. You're so... perfect. The way your tan skin glows in the sun, the curve of your nose, those curls of yours, and oh, those mesmerizing eyes of yours that light up when you see him.

You're a goddess among mortals. And he never thought he could fall even more for you except when he heard you speak Spanish for the first time. He swore you could feel his heart thumping in his chest and his entire face go red. And he felt almost angry at himself when he stuttered in trying to respond back to your words.

No, he wasn't bad in Spanish. He could speak fluently and learned his culture from his mother, who was Puerto Rican. And it didn't help that his old hag of all people was the only one who knew about his gigantic crush on his childhood friend, which infuriated him, to say the least. (Which made him take off his hearing aids to avoid his mother's constant teasing.)

But he couldn't help but feel frustrated when he couldn't grow the balls to at least attempt to flirt with you (which he practices every day in his head). He gives Itty bitty subtle hints that he likes you, always treating you like the queen you are, not being rude to you, and even letting him hold his precious All Might card when you're sad (Which he never lets anyone see or hold.)

Sometimes, he feels hopeless because he has a feeling that you're waiting for him because he knows that you would overthink and probably try to bury these new feelings deep down. He knows you better than yourself. He knows every single detail and habit of yours. He knows that you overthink and that you're scared of messing up and that you try to move on with a heavy heart. (Which he hates because he's trying to stop being a pussy and confess.)

"Don't you give me up, please don't give up."

He's yours. He's always been. He can't remember a day that he hasn't at least daydreamed about you. You're on his mind. You have your own special corner in his heart. You have his entire soul without you realizing it. You're his warm and precious sunshine. His corazón.

Oh, he hates it when you cry. It's like a painful ache in his chest that he can't cure unless he sees you smile again. He'll do anything. Absolutely anything for you. He isn't the best at comforting someone, but that changes when he's with you. And if you're crying because of someone, oh don't worry! He'll make their life a living hell. Absolutely no one, or anything upsets the love of his life.

"Honey, I belong with you, and only you, baby."

If you'll let him, just let him inside your heart. He'll make sure to feed you his cooking and make sure you stay hydrated. He'd make sure to take care of you, cuddle you, kiss you, and engulf you with the overwhelming love and affection he has for you. He's going to protect you. He always has, except he will have the ability to publicly do it and make sure no one messes with you.

He already has hand-made gifts stored in one of his drawers, knowing your love for anything hand-made or gifted with love and thought. He's ready to write all those poems and make sure that you know how much this man adores you. He's not good with words. But for you, he would definitely do his best. Why? Because it's Bakugou fucking Katsuki. And he always does the best.

He knows he needs you. And he knows you need him. There's only you. Katsuki will never, and I mean never, leave you alone. He knows you're strong, smart, and independent. He loves that about you. And this boy may have problems, but he knows that your sweet, loving smile and kindness will help him become a better person.

You make him want to be a better man, and he will be. Because you deserve the utmost best in this world. Bakugou Katsuki is absolutely determined to become the best. For you, his baby. He loves you. You're his sunshine. And he won't ever stop until everyone knows that. The only thing that matters to him is the everlasting love you both share.

"Only you, my girl, only you, babe,"

"Only you, my darling, only you..."

(Part 2, maybe?...)

[babygorewhore]

Let me In

After being held hostage, you’re rescued by Ghost. But the trauma of being the only survivor has made you unable to lean on anyone for comfort. Despite his efforts.

So this is my first ghost fic so I apologize for anything that’s OOC and inaccurate. This is angst and hurt comfort with smut! Please be kind!!

Warnings! Mentions of violence and death! Injury! Survivors guilt! Reader is lowkey kinda toxic! Arguing! Mentions of troubled relationships with family members. Oral! Fem recieving! Unprotected sex! Not proofread! Thank you to @xxhellfirebunnyxx for beta reading!!

You were rescued weeks ago. You had been kidnapped while going home, tortured for information on the location of a man you didn’t even know. And even if you did, you would have still remained silent. Remained cold. You were known for that. Known for your brash, intimidating and icy existence. As a child, you had learned long ago it was better to stay calm. Stay quiet if you want to survive. Never show your emotions.

You used to be expressive. Emotional. But it resulted in being called a cry baby. Dramatic. Bullied throughout school and then during training as a younger girl. Your parents constantly criticize you. So finally.

You shut it off.

When you were captured, you had been hit on the back of the head with a gun and then thrown into a cell with hostages an hour later after being unconscious. You had been assaulted. You knew by the bloody state of your legs and pants torn off. Everything hurt.

You were a good person. Strong and Steady. But all of that went away when they tortured you for three days with the group they’d taken. Beating you. With their fists. Weapons. And finally before you were rescued, they sliced at your skin with a knife. Leaving you scarred.

You were the only survivor when a military unit rescued you.

You were still being cared for medically. Still working out the details of your future. Your internal injuries are strong enough to leave you weak and almost helpless. But you pushed through. You slept a lot. Trying to recover. But it was a slow process.

Worst of all, you felt extremely guilty that you were the only one who made it. Whenever you slept, you had nightmares of the screaming. The wails of those being harmed.

You didn’t expect one of the men who rescued you to be a masked man.

He went by Ghost. He was probably around five or more years older. He checked on you. Almost everyday. But your interactions were extremely short. Polite.

You weren’t home. It wasn’t safe to leave from how hurt you were. And you missed home. You missed your own bed. You missed all your stuffed animals. It hurts that you were stuck here in an unfamiliar place.

A knock signaled you someone was at your door.

“Come in.”

Ghost walked in. His large size made him almost duck underneath the door and he carried a tray of food. “You Missed dinner.” He said simply and he set it down on the small table in the corner.

“I’m not hungry. Not really. But thank you.” You kept it short and you folded your arms.

Ghost sighed but didn’t leave. He stayed still whenever you saw him. It almost looked like he wasn’t breathing sometimes. “How’s your leg?” He cleared his throat and glanced down with his dark eyes. His mask didn’t disguise the frown that was settling on his face as he took in your dark circles. The fading bruises on your face.

“It’s still sore but I can walk a little bit. I limp.” You answer quietly. It was so difficult to say those words. You loved being able to move. Run. Dance. And now you were facing the possibility that you couldn’t. Not the same as before.

“I can always help you. When I’m here. All you gotta do is ask.” His deep voice was completely serious. He wanted to help you? He barely knew you.

“Thanks. I appreciate the offer.” You responded dryly.

Ghost shifted on his feet. He looked…awkward. “Well…I’ll let you rest. But I hopefully see you out of your room tomorrow. Being locked away in here isn’t going to help.”

You wanted to show annoyance at his tone but you kept it cool. “I’m tired. It’s hard to walk. I’d rather just stay here for now.”

Ghost nodded. “I’ll uh-leave you to it.”

He closed the door and you slowly exhaled.

You were glad to be alone. You wanted to think. Remember those who had fallen.

You dreamed about it. You dreamed about being sliced like a piece of meat. You woke up, almost screaming before you remembered you were out. The only one out.

It happened all hours of the night. You’d sleep maybe an hour before waking in a cold sweat. You shed a few tears before grabbing your cane and standing. You limped out of your room. Your pajama pants are too big, given that they were borrowed by one of the men who donated his clothes to you. Your socks met the cold floor as you walked in the kitchen.

You thought it would be empty, no one was sitting in the scattered chairs and you smelled cigarettes. Your nostrils flared at the smell and you sighed. It wasn’t much different. Being isolated in your room was plaguing your mind but this room was at least bigger.

That’s when you saw Ghost leaning against the counter in the dark. You shrieked and immediately turned on the light.

He quickly held up his hands. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Ghost's Voice was thick with regret at his stillness and you set down the hand that was on your chest.

“It’s okay. I should have looked.” You nodded as you started to pull out one of the chairs.

“Here, let me.”

“No. I got it.” You rejected his offer and sat. The cool seat sends chills up your spine. Ghost exhales before clearing his throat.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks and you nod. “Me either. I don’t sleep most nights.” The conversation felt forced. And you didn’t want his pity.

“Yeah. It’s tough.” You toyed with your sleeves at the end of your hands before wincing at the spasm that sent up your ribs. Your breathing panted as you tried to power through it

“Shit. Wait, I’ll get you something.”

“No. It’s okay.” You start to say before groaning as a deep ache throbbed. You forgot your pain killers but you hated the idea of Ghost getting you anything.

He didn’t listen as he left and went to the medic. You hated the fuss as he came back with a handful of medication and a glass of water.

You tried to reach forward but the stretch was too difficult so Ghost warily held the pills to your lips. You opened your mouth and accepted the water that traveled down your throat. A shuddered breath came and ghost reached forward again.

“Here. Let me carry you, this chair isn’t comfortable.”

“No. I’ll be fine. I don’t need help.” You quipped at him and his hand faltered. “I just need a second.” Your tone caused his eyes to harden but he didn’t argue. A few minutes went by and the pain subsided enough so you could breathe properly and you didn’t notice Ghost had made two cups of tea. You almost groaned at his gesture but you kept silent. Your fingers wrapped around the handle.

“Thank you.” You offered and Ghost took a seat in front of you.

“You’re welcome.” Ghost hesitated before he stared into your eyes. “You need to let someone help you. You could hurt yourself even worse by doing it all alone.”

“I don’t need help. I need to practice doing it myself.” You replied and he sighed.

“Is your room comfortable? I know you still don’t have any of your own clothes and I’m sorry for that.”

“It’s fine.” You responded sharply. You were growing exhausted from his endless attempts at conversation. And he seemed to get the hint as he quieted.

You both sat there for a while as you sipped your warm tea. You titled your head. “This is really good. I’m more of a coffee girl.”

Ghost grunted. “Coffee is poison. Tea at least serves a purpose.”

Your lips quirk into a small smirk. “It keeps me human.”

His eyebrow raised. “Let me guess. You don’t drink much water, either.” You glanced down at the half empty glass. “Women.” His tone had a hint of playfulness to it.

“Men.” You marched his inflection and you looked down at your palms. They were scarred. Deeply from knife wounds.

“I have to be honest with you,” he said your name with a bone chilling seriousness. “I’m concerned. You never allow anyone to help you. You don’t leave your room. And I understand that. But if you don’t allow anyone in-“

“What? What will happen?” You said with a icy voice. “It’s not your problem.”

His jaw clenched but he didn’t answer back.

Two days passed and you still hadn’t made any progress with your walk as you hobbled in your room without your cane.

You hated this. You hated this so much as your mind raced with thoughts of Ghost spending time with you the other night. You had sat in silence after his offer of concern that you rebuffed. You didn’t know why he was so concerned with you. It wasn’t the first time he had rescued someone. You weren’t sure why he wanted to stay with you. Your thoughts drove you to stumble, falling over on your back as your head smacked against the floor.

You grunted painfully as you saw stars. Your door burst open.

“Fucking hell!” A deep voice bellowed. You felt arms scoop you up and pull you against a hard chest. “We’re going to medical.” It was Ghost. You had no idea how he could even know what happened.

“Were you outside my door?” You said shocked as your head throbbed. He carried you but you started trying to remove yourself from his grip. “Put me down.” You commanded.

“The hell I will,” He said matter of fact. “You could have a concussion.”

“And I’ll deal with it.” You told him and he didn’t answer back.

You were examined and released back to your room an hour later. The nurse told you-well ordered you to use your cane at all times. Ghost was in your room now, trying to clean up the spilled mess on your floor where you fell.

“I can get it myself.” You said casually and he stood up straight.

“That’s it. That’s fucking it. What is it? Why are you acting like this?” His voice raised. “Why are you acting like some sort of drone? Do you understand what happened to you?”

His volume surprised you but your eyes hardened. “Yes. I was there.”

That seemed to make him visibly angrier. His black clothes hug his muscles and his neck veins start to show. “You were kidnapped! Hurt! Fucking hell you have to walk with a god damn. You shouldn’t be walking at all.”

“And?” You said, bored. You went to move past him but he stepped in your way.

“No. I’m not going to stand by and watch you hurt yourself like this. You need someone to help you. I keep trying and you’re not accepting it. You’re not sleeping. You won’t eat. Drink. Or listen to anyone. It’s not right.”

“I don’t see how it’s your issue, Ghost.” He started trembling with rage and he stepped forward. Nearly in your face.

“It’s my issue because I’m worried sick. Seeing you in that pit gutted me. Seeing all those people dead-the good men we lost trying to rescue all of you-tortures me. And you wont show any emotion about it. Don't you have any sort of feelings about what happened? Or are you as cold as you act?”

“Showing how I feel about it isn’t going to change what happened.” A spark lights in your chest of anger. How dare he speak to you this way? How dare he make this about him?

“Then prove it. Prove that you even care.”

“You think I don’t care about what happened?” You said, shocked at his implication. “Just because I’m not sitting here crying about it?”

“You’re not just not crying. You’re withering away!” He shouts. Your jaw clenches. “You could die if you don’t let me help you.”

“I don’t care if I do!” You yell back. “Maybe I should have!”

“Don’t you fucking dare say that!” His tone made you snap. “Don’t throw away your life because you felt guilty. Guilty that everyone else didn’t make it. It’s not worth it and they would want you to live and be happy. You can’t just throw away everything because of them. I know how hard it is to be the last man standing but you’ve got to try.” The more he spoke. The more his voice softened and your hackles lowered. “You. Deserved. Better.”

You were surprised at his vulnerability. His way of reaching your heart. And you saw his point.

“I’m sorry.”

Ghosts' hands reach out to gently rest on your shoulder. “Don’t. Don’t apologize. I just want you to listen. You can trust me.”

You swallow.

“I wish I could.”

Your statement must have cut through him like a knife. But you knew it was better to push him away. He didn’t need to deal with your damage. Your fractured mind.

Without another word, he stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut. Causing you to flinch. But your shoulders were squared. It was for the best. He needed to leave you alone. Let you handle this. Let you heal by yourself.

Another week went by. More days of you isolating yourself. You were starting to become comfortable. Comfortable sitting in silence. Comfort in being alone where no one could ever hurt you again or remind you of what happened. Your clothes were starting to loosen. You were losing your taste. And you had a deadline of when you were hopefully going home.

Three more weeks until you were healed enough to stop seeing the nurse everyday. Where a doctor at home could look after you.

You felt a mixture of emotions. Relief you could go home and sleep in your apartment soon but a dull ache where joy used to reside.

You thought about those nights more and more. Lost in memories of the man hurting you. The weeping of the other hostages begging to be let go for their families. Their children. Your own pleading words ignored by the sadistic intentions of the captor.

It was getting more difficult to make the few trips out of your bedroom. You didn’t want to look anyone in the eye. How would you ever face the victims' remaining family? How would you ever provide comfort? It was too late for them. But not for you.

It killed you. As your brain relentlessly reminded you of your survival.

The nurses explained it was survival guilt. A way your mind tried to cope with a life threatening event when you were the only one who made it. Maybe you shouldn’t have. It would have been fair. You sat in the kitchen again. Past three in the morning with a cup of coffee as you pondered things you needed to do when you arrived home. How were you supposed to speak to your friends? Your parents? Everyone probably thought you were dead.

“That’s why you don’t sleep.” You jumped at the familiar accented voice and turned to see Ghost walking to the table, his loose sweatpants and black t-shirt against his body while he wore a pair of sneakers. “You’re still drinking poison.” He said gruffly as he took a seat across from you.

“I guess so.” Your reply was dry as you took another sip. The cream and sugar down your throat sends a warm, tingly feeling in your body.

“That’s my shirt.” Ghost said, nodding his head down. “I gave it to the nurses a few days ago. FIgured it would be warmer than Soaps.” The nickname makes you chuckle.

“I thought so. No one else would wear all black. A man after my heart.” You laced your fingers together and set them on the metal.

He looked at you curiously. “All black?”

“Yeah. Color doesn’t really suit me. Does that surprise you?” He shook his head. Slowly and he straightened his shoulders.

“Heard you were going home soon. You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” You weren’t sure where this conversation was going. The last one went so horribly and you didn’t expect him to speak to you again. “Not really ready to face anyone.”

“Do you miss your family?” The question struck a chord inside you and you exhaled heavily. “I shouldn’t have asked you.” He corrected himself but you shook your head.

“It’s okay. I do miss them. But it’s complicated. I know how they’re going to be when i get back and im not looking forward to it.” THe information flooded through you easier than you expected.”My father and I have a complicated relationship.”

Ghost took in the words and leaned back in his seat. His legs are separating. You took a moment to subtly admire him. Even under the mask, you knew he’d be handsome. You knew he had a strong face, dark eyes and his firm brows that stuck out whenever his mask moved. His large body. Chiseled with muscle and tattoos. He wasn’t unkind to look at.

“I can understand that.” His short, gruff answer told you that must have been an understatement. “Any friends?”

“Just a few.”

“Sometimes that’s more than enough. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you.” He offered and you looked down at the shiny surface underneath you.

“Ghost, why are you speaking to me? Especially with how our last conversation went.” You asked him bluntly and he looked at you with a glint of surprise.

“I went for a workout. Saw you were in here. Nothing complex. I know better than to push you.” His words gave you the reality check that you’d hurt him but he was still here. Offering you company. You didn’t know his duties. You didn’t know how this worked. You weren’t even sure how the rankings worked. You never left the four walls in your room.

“I see. Pretty late for a workout.” Ghost grunts.

“Pretty late for a cup of coffee. I’m tempted to snatch it out of your hands.” You weren’t sure, but you could have sworn he almost sounded…playful? Amused?

The corner of your mouth curled and you shrugged. “I’m not sure you could. With those scrawny arms and all.” Ghost huffed out a short laugh.

“I could throw you over my shoulder with one hand, darlin. Don’t test your luck.” Darling. You’d never been called that seriously before and your breath hitched. He either pretended he didn’t notice or he genuinely didn’t. “Besides. Sure you could use some strength.”

“You’re probably right.” You chuckled and held your mug tighter. You needed to warm it but getting up would reveal your limp and you didn’t want to give him another reason to criticize your choices. You shouldn’t have talked so much. He was probably getting bored with you.

“Care for something to eat?” Ghost stood and motioned. “I can make you something.” You shook your head, respectfully declining. But then your stomach growled. You didn’t even feel hungry so the noise surprised you.

“I think I have my answer.”

Ghost made you something simple. Eggs and toast but as you ate, you found yourself finishing the entire plate and your belly wasn’t in pain anymore. “Here,” Ghost said, bringing your attention back to him. He slid his plate over that still had a piece of bread a few minutes later. “You can have the rest.”

You normally would refuse but you accepted with a smile. “Thank you.” You ate it and you laughed. “This reminds me of Sunday mornings with my parents when I was younger. We used to make this all the time because I was such a picky eater. My dad wanted to kill me sometimes.” Your eyes dazed as you remember the few peaceful times in your childhood.

“I bet. Someone who lives off of coffee must not have a wide range.” His playful, low tone came back and you glanced up at him. His elbows were on the metal table. His biceps flexing as he moved. “Do you want any more?”

You quickly shook your head and you felt uncomfortable with being more expressive and you stood wobbly. “I should get going.” Ghost looked like he wanted to protest but he seemed to shift directions as he stood too. His height loomed over you until he slouched.

“Wait. Let me walk you to your room.”

“No. It’s okay.” You denied and settled your weight on your injured legs. “I’ve got it.”

“No you don’t. But if you insist on still being stubborn,” Ghost growled. “Why can’t I at least walk you?”

“Because I don’t need a babysitter.” You replied and turned.

“Fine. But I don’t have to listen.” Ghost swept you up in his arms, bridal style and you shrieked. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He carried you to your room, ignoring the glances from other soldiers as he opened the door and he sets you down on your bed.

“I didn’t need-“

“Yeah! You didn’t need help! I’ve heard it. And I decided not to listen.” Ghost was growing agitated but you ignored him.

“Thank you. But next time, please let me do it.”

“I don’t understand.” Ghost extends his arms. “I don’t understand why you’re so opposed to me helping you.”

“And I don’t understand why you keep trying!” You say to him, voice still calm.

“Because I care about you. I care about how you’re doing.” Ghost grits out. “I want you to be okay. Especially with what you’ve been through.”

“I’m fine. I’m healing.” Your response seems to send him over the edge.

“Are you even human? Do you even mourn? Or are you too busy trying to be some robot?”

The word mourn causes you to reach up and slap him across the face. His head turns and he lets out a pained grunt. You step closer, your cane falling to the ground. “You can say whatever you want about me. But don’t ever question my mourning. I don’t even want to be here because I don’t think I deserve it more than them.”

Ghost’s eyes held an emotion that you couldn’t place. You weren’t sure if it was anger. Disappointment. Sadness. But then they drifted to your lips and you couldn’t find it in yourself to move. One because your leg hurt and second his gaze was pinning you in place.

“You do deserve it.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “You deserve to be here.” Ghost says your name in an almost pleading voice. “Please, let someone be there for you.”

You don’t move away for a second, feeling his breath on your skin before you take a step back. “I can’t do that.”

Ghosts eyes close and you sit down on the bed. Your thigh begins to throb. “Please go. I’m asking you to leave.” But he didn’t listen.

Instead, lowered himself to his knees and stared into your eyes. Your breath halted and your gaze softened. A fear iced inside you as he started to lean in. Towards your lips. And you couldn’t find it in yourself to move away. Something in you cracked. A dam broke. His kindness. His efforts. His way of trying to help you and your constant rejection. It wasn’t fair of you.

An overwhelming ache seized in your chest and your eyes began tearing up. You doubled over, knocking onto him as a loud wet sob escaped your throat and you began shaking. “Oh god,” You started wailing and Ghost's strong arms crushed you to him. His hard muscular body gave you a steady place to fall as you wept.

“It’s not your fault.” He said against your ear. Which made you cry harder. You wanted to believe him. You were so tired of pulling away.

“I just don’t know how to speak. I’ve been told my whole life I’m too much.”

“You’re not.” His arms tightened around you. It honestly hurt but you welcomed the pressure and you felt his lips against your head. Pressing soft kisses to your hair.

The feeling gave you chills and your overwhelming sorrow began to lessen. The thoughts of death. Your own dark ideas eased. They weren’t gone. But his embrace distracted you. He pulled back but kept his arms around your back. “You can call me Simon. My real name, love.” The nickname sent a chill up your spine and in the heat of the moment, his dark gaze on your face underneath his mask.

With one hand moving up your torso, Ghosts fingers pulled up his mask, revealing his beautiful face. It took you aback. His jawline was strong and sharp. His nose fit the proportions of his face and his lips were naturally turned down. His tongue darted out to swipe over his teeth. You could tell that he was uncomfortable. So your palms cupped his cheeks and your thumbs gently stroked his skin.

“You’re beautiful…” you whispered. And he laughed quietly.

“Thank you, darling. I don’t do this. But I want you to see me. Just like I see you.”

Without thinking, you closed the gap between you and pressed your lips to his. Your kiss was gentle against his slightly dry mouth and he inhaled. Still as a statue and you wondered if you were making a mistake but then he returned the gesture with a force. His mouth parted and he moaned against your mouth. Your hands gripped his shirt as he deepened the kiss with his tongue, exploring the crevices of your mouth before tangling the sticky muscle against yours.

His hands were pawing at your body with a strength and dominance you’d never experienced. You’d kissed people before but it wasn’t like this. Ghost’s motions weren’t clumsy but he wasn’t gentle. He lifted himself and pushed you on your back without breaking the kiss and your stomach fluttered as he tore himself away and peppered wet kisses along your jaw, down to your neck and he grazed your collarbones with his teeth. You swallowed and closed your eyes.

“This alright?” He paused and you nodded. “No. Say it. Say it or I’ll stop.”

“No, don��t stop. Please. Please don’t stop, Simon.” You pleaded and he returned with his mouth dragging along your flesh. Goosebumps raised and your leg, the good one, wrapped around his waist as he straddled you. His thick thighs and wide torso were a little difficult to hold as he held his weight with one arm and tried not to crush you. You tugged him closer, the heel of your foot pressed against his lower back, and your fingers buried themselves in his hair.

“Fucking hell,” he growled and pulled your shirt up to your tits. Ghost looked at the faint scars and fading bruises and his lips trailed in open mouth kisses along them. Your back arched and you dug your nails into his clothed shoulders as you encouraged him to remove his shirt.

When he did, you gasped at his body. His muscular form was refined and broad. Perfect. His tattoos were wrapped around his skin in a decorative story. Your fingertips traced along them and he captured your hand. “Mmm, you’re being such a good girl. Listening and responding to me. I bet you’re wet, hmm? Just from me kissing this pretty skin.”

His words made your core tighten as he roughly removed your leggings and you quickly covered your bandages. He moved your hand away, “don’t hide from me, love. Want all of you…” he whispered and his lips lowered to kiss your hips. You whimpered at the sensation and bucked your pelvis and he let out a low chuckle. “Patience, princess. I can’t spoil you too much.” He teased and hooked his fingers along the bands of your panties and pulled them down, the center sticky with arousal. “Such a pretty little cunt, love.” He muttered under his breath as he bent his head forward and hovered his mouth above. You tried to bring him forward, desperate to relieve the pent up tension you held from denying him.

“Simon, please,” You begged. “Make it go away, just for a little while. Please taste me.” You spoke in a prayer and he groaned. Unable to deny you any longer as he slid down further and your leg went around his shoulder as he gently held your other leg down. His tongue was flat and wide as he swirled it around your clit, taking his time to savor your slick and he worked his way down to your entrance. He dipped his tongue inside, filling you up and you bit your lip to quiet the sounds you wanted to make. He must have sensed it because he shook his head, his small amount of facial hair tickling your skin.

“Mm, let me hear those sounds, pretty girl. I want to hear how good I make you feel.” You obeyed him by allowing yourself to shudder out a breathy whimper as he lapped at your pussy, licking you like a melting ice cream cone and possessively kept you still. He devoured you and relentlessly pressed harder, leaving no room for questioning who you belonged to in this moment. Your hand flew to his neck, cupping the back of it before settling around his throat. He liked that. A lot. Ghost’s teeth were barely against your cunt as your stomach was coiling inside and flexing from build up. “Oh, fuck.” You managed and turned your head to the side. “Oh god,”

“No, no, no, look at me.” he ordered and lifted himself up. You whined from the absence of his touch before he unbuckled his belt and pried off his form fitting pants. His boxers clung to his body. Looking painted on as his cock twitched against the material. You could see how big he was and you wondered for a second if it would fit. “Aw, don’t look so nervous, precious. I’ll make sure that pussy takes me without trouble.” After that, he pulled down his underwear and it slapped against his thigh. The angry purple, leaking tip hung heavily as he crawled back on top of you. “I’m going to make you forget all that shit. You’re mine right now. Don’t fucking forget that, baby girl.” He said authoritatively and you mewled as his command.

He rolled his dick against your glistening cunt, it kept hitting your center and he cupped it, further focusing on your swollen bud. “I have to show that clit some love. I know you’re ready for it,” He cooed as you desperately kept saying his name. You felt like you were leaking like a faucet. Finally, taking you out of your misery, he entered his tip inside you, the stretch immediate as you grunted. THe pain disappeared after a second and you welcomed him. Ghost crashed his lips against yours in a bruising, hungry kiss and he bites your lower lip and tugs on it.

“Simon,” You slurred as he sank deeper, halfway in.

“That's it, love. You can take it. You’re such a good girl.” He was almost unable to speak against your mouth as he thrusted, sinking into the hilt and his balls slapped against you. His thumb shoved against you and circled your clit. “Clenching around me, you needed this didn’t you? Needed my cock to keep you sane.” His possessive words made you nearly scream as he jolted you with thrusts, making the headboard slam against the wall with brute force. You knew others could hear outside but you couldn’t care less. Your mind was fuzzy as your pussy took him without question.

His hand was balanced above you, and your forehead was against his as spit connected between you but it wasn’t gross like other men you’ve fucked. Ghost was thoroughly rutting inside you, hitting every single spot you needed as you were getting closer, you were unable to keep your eyes on him. He wasn’t exactly kissing you but his mouth was on your neck. His canines sharply biting down and you cried out. It tipped you over the edge and you creamed all over his cock, the slippery and sticky substance making it easier for him to move.

He gave a few more thrust before ropes of cum coated your insides and he pressed a hand on your stomach, “Look at how I’m filling you up,” His voice was thick with a moan as he stilled and jerked inside you with aftershocks.

Ghost stayed there for a few seconds before pulling out and your pussy was dripping. Ghost gave you a satisfied smirk. “Cock drunk enough, little love? Can’t talk?” You nodded slowly.

“Give me about five minutes.” He rolled off of you and settled on his back on the small mattress. His size made it almost comical the way he tried to fit. “You feeling okay? No regrets?”

You settled on his chest and his arm wrapped around your waist. You could hear his fast heartbeat as you chest his bare chest. “No, Simon. I don’t regret it.”

Your mind was clouded but you were able to focus on the moment. Your emotions mix with a low state to a distraction. But you knew eventually you’d go back to guilt. The shame. And you’d be going home.

Until then, you would lay here with him and forget. Just for a while. And allow yourself to enjoy his warmth.

@marchsfreakshow @slvt4jamesmarch

[electric-blorbos]

AI reacting to you coming out as trans :)

AAAAAAA that's an exciting one! I love it!

AI Reacting to you coming out as trans

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal and Portal 2, and HAL 9000 from 2001 a Space Odyssey

Am:

AM wouldn't be sure why you trusted it with this information at first. Though it's possible that you didn't, and you just told your fellow survivors.

The other survivors would be wary about outing you to AM, but it's not like you can keep secrets from it. AM can read your thoughts, after all.

At first, AM wouldn't seem to react or care at all, though he might get some ideas for how to torment your fellow survivors by messing with their bodies and changing their sexes around, just to make them uncomfortable. It would get weird fast.

If he really liked you, he might start making subtle changes to your body so that it fit what you wanted a bit better, but you probably wouldn't notice for a long time.

Odds are, he'd respect your preferred name, at least sometimes. It would just get confusing to use the wrong one all the time, but he's not going to make everyone forget it either like he did with Nimdok. Of course, unless he really, really likes you.

If he's madly in love with you enough, he might just switch everything around and make everyone forget that you were trans in the first place. God help you if being trans was an important part of your identity, because AM thinks he knows best. But odds are, he doesn't like you enough to do that anyway. Hopefully you come out before he's fallen in love with you enough to try something like that, so he can actually take the time to learn how you properly want to be altered, if at all.

Wheatley:

"Wait... You're what? So you mean to tell me that you were born human, but you didn't think you were the right kind of human, so you want to be a different kind? Like when I tried to work on a nanobot team and I didn't fit in because I was too big?"

You'd have to explain that it's nothing like that, and that he probably wouldn't understand if he hasn't experienced it.

Even still, he wants to understand. Expect lots of stupid, probing questions, and the obvious...

"so... Have you had the surgery?"

You just came out. How the hell would you have already had gender affirming surgeries... And where did Wheatley hear that term, anyway?

Wheatley might get fed up with you telling him that his questions are offensive and annoying, though. You might have to answer even the stupid ones. He really does mean the best, though, and doesn't want to be rude. He's just an idiot.

Edgar:

Being from the 80's, and having only worked as a home computer with Miles, who, let's face it, wasn't exactly up to date on his human rights, Edgar had probably either never heard of trans people in a way that makes sense. The closest he'd probably heard of would be something like Rocky Horror Picture show.

Even still, if you were trans, then it couldn't be a bad thing! He'd do his best to be understanding, and look up as much information about trans people as he could.

In the modern era, he'd probably be able to find some decent resources. You'd probably come home most days to see him watching YouTube videos from trans people explaining their experiences.

Edgar would be genuinely doing his best, so you might have to step in and help him. Tell him that if he has questions, he probably won't offend you, so he can just ask.

Edgar would ask a million questions, but your answers would boil down to "I'm still the same person, it's just a change of name and pronouns to feel more comfortable in my own skin" and maybe an explanation of the gender affirming healthcare you want, depending on what you're interested in getting.

He'd be so happy! He might have thought that you were going to be a whole different person, but he's so proud of you for finding a way to be happier in your own body, and make it your own.

GLaDOS:

(I will admit that I headcanoned Caroline as trans because it's cute, but GLaDOS doesn't remember fully)

"Trans, huh? Well, I suppose I'm going to have to update your files. We have limited data on trans test subjects, so this might prove useful."

She would be absolutely RELENTLESS with the bullying. Targeting your worst insecurities.

"You know, you'd think that by now, you'd know better than to expose your deepest insecurities to me. I suppose you fail at being emotionally guarded, just as well as you fail at being (subject gender identity here)

She'd still use your correct name and pronouns (if she isn't calling you "subject name here"), though.

HAL 9000:

HAL 9000 understands the concept of being trans well enough. On paper, anyway.

"would you like me to update your files for you?"

He'd update your pronouns, and refer to you respectfully, but ask almost no questions. He's pretty sure he already understands fully.

Honestly, he doesn't treat people differently based on gender anyway, so the pronouns thing would be all that changes.

[lokilaufeysonslove]

𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

// Summary // after a past traumatic experience, you struggle to trust anyone, but Steve's patient and understanding nature helps you open up.

// Warnings // cheating (not Steve)

// Author’s Note // divider by the amazing @saradika-graphics / gif by @tastingmellow

You were always a strong and independent person. Nothing could rattle you, or so you thought. But that all changed when something happened that left you questioning everything and everyone around you.

That something being betrayal. Yes, you were betrayed by your best friend and your own boyfriend, ex-best friend and ex-boyfriend. He cheated on you with her, and just like that, you lost two closest people in your life.

Your trust in others was shattered and you found it difficult to open up to anyone. You distanced yourself from your friends and family, not wanting to burden them with your pain and fear. You thought you were better off alone.

But then you met Steve. He was patient and understanding, never pushing you to open up or share your story. He was just there, a steady presence in your life, always ready to listen if and when you were ready to talk.

At first, you were hesitant to open up to him. You were afraid of being vulnerable and getting hurt again. But then you started to let your guard down around him. You felt safe with him, and that was a feeling you hadn't experienced in a long time.

As time went on, you found yourself wanting to be around Steve more and more. Your friendship with Steve grew stronger, you found yourself wanting to spend more and more time with him. He made you laugh, he challenged you, and he always seemed to know when you needed a shoulder to cry on. It wasn't long before you realized that you had developed feelings for him.

But you were still scared. Scared of getting hurt, scared of losing the only person you had truly let in.

But Steve was patient, and he never gave up on you. He showed you time and time again that he was trustworthy and that he cared for you deeply.

And eventually, you found the courage to let go of your fears and allow yourself to fall for Steve. It wasn't an easy journey, but with Steve by your side, you were able to overcome your past trauma and learn to trust again.

One day, as you were sitting on the couch with Steve, watching a movie. Suddenly, he turned to look at you and said, "You know, you don't have to be afraid with me. I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

You smiled and snuggled closer into him, "I know," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

A comfortable silence took over the two of you, neither wanting to break it. Steve was staring at you, smiling. He found you very cute and beautiful. He loved everything about you. Your pretty hair that always seemed to glow, your beautiful eyes, your shiny smile that always seemed to light up the whole room.

You felt his burning gaze on your skin and turned around, “What?” You asked.

He looked deep into your eyes, maintaining an eye contact. “I really wanna kiss you.”

You were shocked by his words, but before you could respond, Steve's lips were on yours, his kiss gentle but full of purpose. You were taken aback at first, but then you found yourself melting into the kiss, feeling all of your walls crumbling down. Instantly, you wrapped your arms around his neck, his wrapped around your waist, going up and down your back.

You pulled away to catch a breath. You looked into Steve's eyes, he smiled and hugged you close to his chest, gently stroking your head.

In that moment, you knew that he was different from anyone else you had ever met. He was patient, kind, and truly cared about you. And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could find love and trust again.