#AND WHEN THEY DO THEIR LITTLE HIGH FIVE!!!!!!!

[54625]

What I want out of a QSMP season two.

(Some of these points may be a little divisive - it's just my personal opinion. Content creators will be referred to as players for conciseness. QSMP as it has been for the past year, for the sake of this post, will be referred to as "season 1".)

1. TAKE A FUCKING BREAK.

I do not want to see the QSMP coming back in less than two months at the very, very least. Five or six months to a year is ideal, in my opinion.

This is for a few reasons. Firstly, the obvious; I want Quackity Studios to take the necessary time to make 100% sure that everyone who has worked, does work, or will work for them is compensated. Not just this, but I want the communication among the studio to become streamlined and consistent, for the purpose of maintaining the quality of the SMP, the quality of life of the employees, and entirely avoiding a repeat of the previous situation. Any less will be unacceptable, and prove that all people in charge, including and especially Quackity himself, have not learned their lesson.

Secondly, I am very sure that a lot of players will lack or have completely lost their motivation for the QSMP, due to the nature of the last few months of season 1. I am sure that those who had a lot of lore written up and had to scrap it or cut it short are probably still quite sore about it, and may not have the energy to pick the QSMP story back up. This is especially true if they had already given their characters a canon ending and don't want to overshadow it. When creating a new SMP, or a new season of an SMP, you first and foremost need player motivation to be high. Waiting several months would ensure that the wound of player lore being ruined would have mostly healed over by the start of season 2.

Thirdly, viewer engagement will always be an important thing to take into consideration when creating an SMP that will be televised. The large majority of QSMP fans are completely burned out from watching. Leaving a large gap between seasons 1 and 2 would let fans, who have had an exhausting last few months, recover and reset. It will also allow hype and anticipation to build up when things eventually start being teased and announced again. Fans have a lot of disdain for this project at the present moment, and waiting for a while between seasons will not only let fans know that serious action is being taken behind the scenes, but also will let the sour attitude a lot of fans have right now wear off over time.

2. RESET. FOR REAL THIS TIME.

Probably my most controversial take on this topic will be; I fully believe that if a QSMP season 2 is to occur, it should be a completely new server. By completely new I naturally mean a new map, but also ZERO LORE CONTINUATION. I know this is a hot take, but I personally believe QSMP season 2 is a perfect chance for a completely fresh start, and a fresh start cannot happen if it still takes place in the same universe.

We all know that season 1's lore was overwhelming, slightly confusing, and at the end of the day, completely disjointed. We all fell in love with the terrifying Federation and Codes, yes, we all loved the basis of the story; a group of people from different countries get stranded on a "perfect" paradise island controlled by a governmental body that won't let them leave, and have to work together; but at the end of the day, the lore of season 1 became messy. Very messy. Instead of trying again and again to salvage it, the best option is probably to just start again.

Put the same players in a different map, give them a completely different premise, and let the lore unfold anew. Which leads into my next point.

3. PLAYER DRIVEN LORE.

Let the players develop the story. If a player has an overarching storyline they are unfolding themselves, prioritise letting them do so. All of the best lore in season 1 was player created, and player enacted; Cellbit's regret arc, the happy pills, Cellbit's murdering Fed workers arc, literally everything Fit ever did, Roier's lore, ect ect ect. Server admins should only intervene in player's lore when directly asked, and big changes to the server's status quo should only occur when there is no active lore to be interrupted, everyone agrees it should happen, and it would actively drive engagement up, rather than down.

The best case scenario for a QSMP season 2, in my opinion, is for the server admins and Quackity to come up with an exciting and engaging premise for a brand new universe with brand new characters, to place the players in an interesting themed map, and just let them loose. Let the lore build naturally, and see what comes of it.

IN CONCLUSION.

I vehemently disagree with people who believe the QSMP should not have a season 2. The QSMP is a brilliant idea, and its noble goals shine through all of the incredible friendships and memories it, and only it, made. There is no other server like QSMP.

The act of uniting people from all over the world has been proven to be an extremely important and worthwhile goal. I, genuinely, admire Quackity for his passion in this, and for understanding that this thing should not be easily given up on or let go. Drastic changes need to occur, but the QSMP is bigger than just a Minecraft server; it represents so much unity, community, and love.

It is worth saving.

I hope, desperately and for the sake of everyone involved, past future and present, that the QSMP can come back better and stronger than ever, continuing to further its goals; to tell amazing stories, to forge impossible friendships, to spark joy and laughter, and to bring people together no matter the barriers keeping them apart.

Thank you for reading.

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

“patience” - hotch x fem!reader

aaron visits you after a long case and wants you badly

cw: MDNI! implied smut? smut adjacent? Pre established relationship. I dunno I just wanted making out with hotch

1550 words

———————

Why does he look hungry for you? Why does he look like he wants to eat you, literally eat you, like a cannibal? You stand in the doorway of your apartment, staring at him across the threshold. “Hi,” you say after the silence has become unbearable.

“Hi. Sorry,” Aaron snaps out of it, and you watch his tongue jut out to moisten his lips. “Can I come in? I wanted to see you,” he admits.

“Yeah, of course,” you step aside and allow him in, and lock the door behind him. “You know it’s like, super-late, right?” You ask, running your hand over your face. You’re in a matching pajama set that has colorful ice cream cones printed on it and you have your hair wrapped up in one of those heatless curling rods, making the lustful look on Aaron’s face all the more confusing.

“I know, honey, I’m sorry,” he sighs, stepping towards you and pulling you by the wrist. You let him wrap you in his arms. He smells of airplane and that Irish spring-scented soap. “I should have called first. I have a one-track mind when I’m this tired.”

“Where’s Jack?” You ask. You always want to make sure Aaron’s putting his little boy first, and he always does by default. But you never want Aaron to think you want to be prioritized over his son.

“At his aunt’s. I didn’t want to wake him up this late - he’s got a big test tomorrow,” Aaron mumbles as you wrap your arms around his torso and run your nails lightly over his back. Through his suit jacket, he feels thick like an encyclopedia.

“But it was okay to wake me up?” You tease, pulling back to smirk up at him.

“You don’t have a big test tomorrow, do you?” Aaron asks all-knowingly. You shake your head - no, you don’t. Just the same menial job you’ve been at for nearly a year. Aaron kisses your forehead. “That’s what I thought.” He places one hand over your shoulder, and his thumb brushes over your hair. He chuckles softly as the heatless curl rod in your hair, his thumb pressing into it curiously. “And what is this contraption for?” He asks.

“To curl my hair,” you say indignantly. “Beauty doesn’t come easily, you know.”

“Sure it does,” Aaron muses in that far-off voice, and you wonder for a second if your All-American Straight Shooter Poster Boy for Sobriety was high. “You make it look like a cakewalk,” he adds, and you shake your head. Not high, then. Just tired.

“Long case?” You ask, stifling a chuckle as Aaron backs up towards the sofa, tugging you gently with him. He sits down and you follow suit, tucking your feet under your rear and turning to face him.

“Very long,” Aaron grimaces. You run your fingers through his hair - it’s so soft. How is it so soft? He was just in South Dakota for five days straight. When does he find the time for hair care? “I missed you. Can I… can I just touch you, Y/N?” He asks. “Please?”

The fact that you are braless, in a matching pajama set, and have the hair of a carnival performer is not lost on you. He really must have missed you, to want to come over here as soon as the plane lands, to want to see you so badly. How could you possibly say no to such a request?

You nod your head, reaching forward to help him out of his suit jacket. He folds it neatly over the side of the couch, taking his time to purposefully drive you crazy.

Aaron’s smirking subtly as he reaches for your wrists. His index and middle fingers glide up your arm, following your veins torturously, and you move to straddle him against the couch. His hands are on your hips in an instant as your knees press into the couch cushions.

He’s rubbing your lower back as you lean down to kiss him. It’s slow and gentle, as if to ease him back into it after his week out of state. You coax this desperate, thickly-lined sigh out of him, and when you pull back with an arched brow, he’s smiling at you sheepishly. “It was a really, very long case?” He proffers as explanation, and you exhale amusedly through your nose.

“You can just say you missed me,” you suggest.

“I did already.”

“You can just say it again,” you counter, reaching up to cup his face with your hands. He leans into your touch. He blinks those big dark eyes at you a couple times and smiles slowly as you continue speaking. “You can say it until my ego is so inflated that I have to move into a bigger apartment.”

“An ego that big would be a fire hazard,” Aaron jokes. You swipe your thumb across the apple of his cheeks. He leans his head forward and his lips are pressed against your ear. He complies in a low voice that pours out as smooth, expensive whiskey. “I missed you.” He kisses the space just below your earlobe. “I missed you.” He kisses the side of your jaw. “I missed you.”

Your knees wobble as your hips roll forward. Your body is entirely liquid as Aaron pulls his head back and gauges your expression. “Aw, honey,” he teases, squeezing your hips tightly. “You’re blushing.”

You kiss him instead of trying to come up with a quippy response. Any wittiness has oozed out of your brain at this point as your tongue goes rogue, juts out to part Aaron’s lips. He allows you passage and you’re gliding your tongue along his teeth and dancing around his. A needy mewl escapes you and Aaron’s lap goes firm and hard beneath you.

You pull back and see how red his cheeks are. “Who’s blushing now?” You tease, feeling powerful and victorious. Aaron lifts one hand to cradle your face, thumb on your cheekbone. The rest of his fingers are splayed behind your ear and you feel every single one of his nerve endings against yours.

You can’t help yourself.

You’re the cannibal now, as you lean forward and kiss his neck - god, his neck. Your lips are hungry as they trail along his throat, kissing briefly and nipping here and there, and your hands are desperate as they comb through his hair.

He’s sighing, deep and coarse and throaty, and you keep kissing him, wanting to coax out as many of those noises as possible. His hands are everywhere as both your gears kick into overdrive. You’re mapping out his neck and his jaw with your mouth and Aaron’s ginormous hands are sliding freely under the ice cream pajama top. The pads of his fingers make your stomach flutter, and he’s sliding his hands up, up, up to your breasts.

You feel like a teenager going to second base in the back of a car. “Take my shirt off, Aaron,” you whisper, and he gives a low chuckle.

“Yes, ma’am,” his voice is hoarse and amused as his hands slide out from under your shirt to undo the cheap plastic buttons. “I like it when you’re assertive, you know,” he says, and you watch his fingers deftly slide the buttons through the holes.

Your shirt is off and your nipples are instantly reminded that you do not have a bra on. The cold air of the living room hits them and they perk up. Aaron’s staring directly at them like he’s about to interrogate them.

“Hey,” you snap your finger, and his eyes click up to yours. “Eyes up here, buddy.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Aaron laughs tenderly. “You just asked me to take your shirt off. How am I supposed to just not look at them?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I dunno,” you concede. And when Aaron’s hands are sliding up your torso again - so warm and calloused, his hands - you inhale sharply. Anticipation was never something you were good at. His fingers spread away from his thumbs and he’s cupping your breasts. You watch him. He’s like a little kid at an aquarium, awe-struck and sensitized, as he kneads your breasts.

Thumbs swipe over your nipples and your breath catches in your throat. You whimper, and Aaron presses his head forward.

His forehead is flush against your sternum and your arms instinctively loop around his neck as he buries his head into you. You stifle a girlish giggle when his lips kiss your breasts - left, then right - and then he’s sucking on the skin and pulling it between his teeth. You could die right now, you realize, and you’d be blissfully happy.

Your hips roll forward again, on instinct, and your center is so hot and desperate for friction that you reach down for it. Aaron catches your hand before you can even pull at your waistband.

He kisses the inside of your wrist and looks up at you. “I’ll get there,” he promises. Aaron’s dark eyes are lustful and you can tell just by looking at him that this was his plan all along. You don’t mind at all being a source of comfort for him.

“I want you so bad,” you exhale breathily.

“It’s going to be a long night, honey,” he vows. “But you’ll get what you want eventually.”

[mayghosts]

Little Gold Top: (4) Kate Martin x Reader

Summary: You and Kates twisted past. (Previous) (TOC)

Warnings: Underage and unhealthy drinking/drug use, references to sex/drunk hookups, toxic relationships (Kate and reader)

AN: buckle up y'all. I REALLY hope you guys get this its so late 😭

Halloween Sophmore Year

Messy. You and Kate have always been messy in your head. The two of you seemed to only exist together when the both of you were black out or high out of your minds. You couldn't exactly recall the number of times her hands had dropped below your shoulders and into your pants, or the ammount of times you had hungrily kissed her. Or the ammount of times you would wake up alone and find some article of her clothing forgotten on your floor.

This would mark one year since the first time you had woken up in her dorm. Maybe you were silly for remembering this. The thought lingered in the back of your head as you got ready. Maybe it was basic of you to go as a black cat, but your only goal tonight was to get drunk enough to forget your latest fling. Another masc, indie, art major with bleach blonde hair. You had ended it last night. You took another shot before drawing your whiskers on with eyeliner. "You need to slow down, you're gonna get drunk before you even get to the party." Gabbie looked at you disapprovingly. She truly was your other half, but right now you didn't want a voice of reason you wanted Kate you wanted to be drunk. You rolled your eyes at her as you walked out of the bathroom, pulling on your shoes.

"God finally you guys are ready, can we leave now?" Caitlin immediately shot out of her chair, walking towards the door in her cowboy boots. You could feel Kates eyes glued to your exposed thighs as she complemented you and Gabbie on your contrasting costumes. Just a reminder of how you knew this night was going to end. Jada walked up to you with a big smile on her face "well don't you look cute!" You giggled at her enthusiasum and her little mouse ears, everything is funny when you're a little drunk, "we need some hot pics tonight for my insta!" You guys had dressed up as a cat and mouse for the second year in a row. You grinned back at her, "Yesss of course!"

As the five of you made your way down the dorm halls and out towards the frats, you found your eyes drifting towards Kate. You continued this action throughout the night, constantly finding her dumb unicorn horn above the crowd. She fucked you in the back of her car that night. You think that was the last time it truly meant nothing. You were both hammered, neither of you really remebered anything from that night. Atleast you didn't. Just the fog on the windows and the pop song blasting through her crappy toyota corolla speakers.

New Years Sophmore Year

After Halloweekend, and multiple more blackout party weekends with Kate, you decided to go sober. No more blackout weekends, no more greening out in random basements, no more Kate. Emphasis on no more Kate. Over a year of useless hookups, it was time to move on. Find something serious. Maybe a brunette, short, fem with brown eyes and a vowl at the beginning of her name. No more blondes.

You repeated this like an oath in your head as you knocked on the apartement door. Kate and Caitlin had moved into an off campus apartement together over break. Their first "to do" was to host new years. Clad in a black mini skirt and a gold croptop you shivered in the hall. The door swung back, revealing the one and only Kate Martin. "Hey..." You stared up at her. Distance really does make the heart grow fonder, the purple lights from inside the apartement cast an odd glow into the badly lit hallway. "You cold?..." She reached a hand out to graze over your arm, shamelessly staring at your boobs sequined shirt. The air felt thick, not in a sexual tension way. You felt like you could see the longing through her eyes, the need for something more. Maybe you were just projecting but suddenly in her eyes you saw children and a big old farmhouse with a pickett fence.

"So are you gonna let her in or are you just gonna let her freeze out there?" As Caitlin poked her head around the corner Kate snatched her hand back as if she had been burned. She stepped to the side, letting you shuffle into the warm apartement.

You remeber that night clear as day. You succeded with 2/3 of your goals. However, you made one critical mistake. You let Kate walk you back to your dorm. Alone. She wrapped her thick coat over your shoulders as you two walked silently. The random hookups had really put a twist on your relationship, but it gave you a weird sense of safety. You were fine with the silence, you were fine with her holding your hand, you were fine with her eyes constantly drifiting towards your shirt. You looked up at her "I think I owe you an apology." she glanced over at you, pressing her lips between her teeth before looking back at the ground. "What do you mean?" You were silent for a minute before looking up at the sky. "Well you know... this last year... I haven't really been a great friend." You stopped walking and stared expectantly at her face, admiring the slope of her nose and the deep blue in her eyes. She hesitated again, you could see something brewing behind her eyes as you felt your gut sink "Wanna make it up to me?" You stared up at her as she stepped closed, gently wrapping her arms around your waist as she pulled you in for a kiss.

You two took it up stairs, tripping over your dorm carpet as she pushed you back towards your bed. That night wasn't messy. Well i mean... You remebered every moment, her sweet hands, every "I love you" you murmered against her neck, all of it.

When you opened your eyes the next morning you expected to feel a warm Kate in bed with you. However, you woke up to an empty bed. You could feel your heart crack as it hit you that you would never truly have Kate. At least not how you wanted.

After this, you decided to limit your interactions. This quicky backfired. You would go to the bars with your friends and watch from afar as Kate would have a few and take some random girl home. You were always convinced they looked a little like you, maybe you were just desperate for a sign. They deffinately looked like you. During practice Kate would overcompensate to try and distract from your terrible attitude towards her. You would refuse to pass the ball to her or even look at her, and she would just laugh it off, until she couldn't find it funny anymore. After a while, the team just came around to the idea that you and Kate just weren't friends anymore. You both played pretty terribly. The season ended pretty quickly after that, and you didn't see her until next fall.

Junior Year First Team Dinner

The deja vu as she walked you back to your apartement was intense. The silence wasn't comforting, instead it seemed to loom over the two if you. She didn't hold your hand or wrap her jacket around your shoulders. She didn't even look at you as she spoke, "For the well being of the team..." She looked up towards your apartement door, "I think its best we start fresh." Kate stopped walking and turned to face you, face blank. Internally, you wanted to rip her head off. Yell at her and blame her for the fact that you two got this bad. You knew it wasn't solely her fault, but for your mental well being it was 100% her fault. You reached the front door of your apartement and she stared at you expectantly. You didn't bother meeting her eyes as you spat back "Whatever you want Kate, just leave me alone." You walked into the lobby, leaving her outside in the cold.

[li0nn3stuff]

Kiddo

Chapter six

Kiddo masterlist

English is not my first language, be kind.

Modern!Older!Aemond x Modern!Younger!Reader

•Chapter warnings: obsession, stalking, talking of bullying, fingering•

“Have you seen him?” The girl says excitedly to her friend, looking at the new year boy.

“Yes! What do you think happened to his eye?” She responded giggling.

“I don’t know, but whatever it was, if it left such a scar, it must have been really bad.”

“I kinda like the eyepatch though, it makes him sexy…” The girl smirked as she looked intently at the boy with silver hair passing by the hallway.

“Oh, he’s hot. I would totally fuck him.”  The girl smirked in return.

“I’d rather have him fuck me. I have a feeling that he is crazy good.”

Two months after the encounter.

Aemond smirked, looking at his phone, his girl had been texting a lot, since they’ve been friends.

Surely, it’s not how he would have liked to have her, but if nothing, Aemond was patient.

He had his own plan to get his girl only to himself.

On his side, he had his advantage.

She kept texting him about douchebags making fun of her at school.

Some, that he would have loved to rip apart with his bare hands.

Like the guy that was on a date with her, or the girls she was with the day he first saw her. They just wanted to humiliate her somehow. He reassured her with his own stories, advising her how to act on those occasions.

All lies.

He was the popular boy when he was young, despite what he feared as a child, when his scar was still fresh, his marked face brought him nothing but popularity and girls.

Boy’s feared him, the mix of his stoic face, scar, and powerful family apparently intimidated the others.

He lost his virginity pretty soon, and he never stopped fucking ever since, his last year in high school he even fucked in the teacher room, without getting caught.

He fucked a teacher once.

He was a fucking king in in school. He was the one humiliating others whenever he wanted to.

But she didn’t need to know that, did she?

He was only doing her a favor, offering er his comprehension, his help.

There was no way she could find that out anyway.

-I could come to visit you at work?-

He  smiled at the new text on his phone. God, she was just perfect. 

Aemond was her only friend, and that always made her so eager.

She texted him a lot, day and night, she asked to see him more than one time a day, and if he couldn’t, she then asked if she could facetime him, or at least call him.

He liked the calls, he had the freedom to be hard rock or even fisting his cock as she spoke. He rarely accepted video calls, but sometimes he took the risk, she was just so innocent, he could do everything anyway.

“There were a few tomatoes.” She smiles happily as she turn her phone to show him her little garden, bending down to get at the same level of the plant, making the cleavage her large chemise more evident, he caught a glimpse of her bra, holding those breasts he would want to squeeze in his hands, as he slipped his cock between–

“Can you see?” She asked excitedly. He cleared his throat and nodded, as he brushed his cock with his hand.

“Yes, I can see.” He answered. She smiled even more and stood back up. 

“Rory says he wants a salad with my tomatoes.” She says as she looks down to walk without stepping on any plant. Rory was one of her foster brothers, he was five, and greedy.

“Of course he does.” He answered as he carefully unbuttoned his pants, drawing down the fly. He sighed silently, when he didn’t have his breeches restrain his cock.

She chuckled at his remark, looking up at the phone, at him. He felt a rush of adrenaline, lust, going up his spine then straight to his cock, at her looking at him, oblivious of his actions.

“I could bring you some salad at work for lunch, if you want to.” She proposed.

“Mh… What are you wearing, you could get your clothes dirty in the garden.” He slipped his hand in his boxers, caressing directly his cock, letting out a small groan.

“Don’t worry, today I just came to check.” She raised her phone up her head, so her entire figure would be visible on the screen. She was wearing a big white men's button down shirt, and a long wavy white skirt. Her hair was loose and wavy due to the braids she kept during the night.

“So what do you say?” She asked again. Looking at him.

“Another time, kiddo. Tell me about your day.” He leaned back in his chair, his office door was locked, but it was early anyway, so he tugged his boxers down as she started speaking.

-You want so much to see me at work?-

He texted back, smirking to himself. He would have loved to show her around, his pretty girl, have her watching him while he works.

Smell her scent in his office, her real scent, not that vanilla shit he bought.

-You say you work in a high lever of one of the skyscapes, I want to see it! :) -

She texted quickly back, and he chuckled, his fingers hovering over the keyboard for a moment. Did she light the height? He could have brought her to the heavens, if she would just ask him.

-You’re supposed to be at school, kiddo, why are you texting me?-

-Texting you is funnier.-

He groaned as he saw her text, putting aside his phone, and trying to force himself to ignore the urge to go to her school, find her class and fuck her on her table with the whole class looking at them.

He could picture it so well.

How she would ask him to go somewhere else because she’s shy about her body, and mostly because she doesn’t want to be seen or heard.

She would beg him so sweetly, looking at him with her eyes, glossy from tears. And how could he have stopped at such a sight? 

-So? Can I come visit you?- 

His phone turned on at her text. He looked at it for a while, then he decided to finally text it to her.

-My place is at a higher level. You want to come there?-

He could feel his heart in his throat as he stared at his phone screen. When she started typing, he felt like fainting.

-Deal, time?-

He wanted to jump from his chair and scream. He had her.

He was going to have her in his apartment.

He chuckled, thinking of how he could turn this story into some kind of Raperonzolo’s story, lock her in his apartment, maybe even tied to his bed.

So he could worship her naked body from the moment he came home, untill he left, first with his tongue, then his fingers, and then he would finally fuck her to madness.

He honestly didn’t know why she trusted him.

He was only getting worse since he met her. 

He stalked her less, that is true, but only because she gave updates to him herself. 

To be fair, he kept stalking her the first few days, but only to be completely sure his girl would never lie to him.

And she never did.

Because she was his perfect good girl.

He was trying really hard to wash the smirk away from his face as he drove to her school. He just couldn’t. 

He was going to have her in his apartment, just him and her. 

He risked a hard on every time he thought about it, his mind playing infinite scenarios of how he could take her, trick her, use her, and she wouldn’t even realize it, she would think it’s completely normal.

He had to take lots of deep breaths, in order to contain all those freaky, but tempting thoughts.

He will be kind, gentle.

Just for her, he could do it.

Well, he could try.

He hoped.

He parked close to her high school and texted her that he was waiting for her describing his location so it would have been easier for her to find him.

He saw her approaching him a few minutes later, and he leaned to open the passenger door for her.

As much as he would have liked to get out of his car, greet her with a small kiss on her head perhaps, he couldn’t risk it. 

His… unusual appearance always made him pretty noticeable, he wouldn’t want anyone to remember him, nor recognise him.

She quickly slipped inside his car and sat on the passenger seat. Smiling softly at him.

“Ehy.” She said, looking briefly at him. He furrowed his eyebrows, confused by her eyes, that had a hint of sadness in them.

“What happened, kiddo?” He asked, feeling a hint of rage burning in his chest at the idea that she had probably been bullied again. She shook her head as she put on her belt.

“Can I tell you later? I– I just want to go away from here…” She mumbled, her cheeks already getting red from embarrassment. He hesitated a moment, looking at her, unsure if to insist or just drive off.

He sighed and looked away, turning on the engine and driving off.

“I… suppose your day at school was not easy.” He muttered, glancing at her. She was staring outside the window, enjoying her view.

“No, actually not, it wasn’t.” She said softly.

“Tell me what happened.” He didn’t want it to sound so much like a harsh order, but apparently, he just couldn’t help it.

“It just feels strange to tell you in person now…” She tried to switch the main subject. “I’m so used to telling it to you by phone or call, it seems almost… strange in an intimidating way to tell you now in person. “ She explained. Aemond sighed as he nodded, trying to be comprehensive, even if he just wanted her to just tell him what happened. He drove off a bit faster, trying to get home as quickly as he could.

She was wearing one of her usual skirts, white, long to her ankles, and a thigh white shirt, but with a black cardigan over it, some black boots at her feet.

He wanted to put his hand on her thigh, squeeze it, and feel the softness on her skin.

“What do you want for dinner?” He asked then, his eye constantly on the road, he won’t force her to talk now, he will do it in his apartment, when she’ll be more comfortable.

“Whatever you’ll like will be fine.” She smiled softly at him.

“Would you rather order a take out?” He asked then, and he saw with the corner of his eye that she shook her head.

“Oh, no, why? We can cook for ourselves!” She said he could hear the excitement in her voice. “Oh, well, if you… I mean, we can go buy groceries if we need to, or–”

“No, it’s fine, I have everything.” He cut off short. 

“Then we can cook, we can make something basic, quick… I’m already hungry.” She smiled and chuckled. He nodded, his mind picturing them cooking.

Like a couple. 

She would be by his side, chopping some vegetables, he would pass behind her, tease her with some kisses on her neck, pressing her against the counter.

He would press his head against the back of hers, looking down as he pushed his hips against her, letting her feel how hard he was for her. She would whine sweetly, so innocently, as he would start grinding against her, his hands quickly wrapping around her, caressing her belly and going down to– 

“Even pasta is fine.” She said again, leading him out of his thoughts. He cleared his voice as he moved on his seat, adjusting his position, as he felt his cock twitch.

“Pasta it is.” He agreed. She smiled again and went back on looking outside her window, as they approached his building. He parked the car and led her inside to the elevator. He didn’t try to stay too close, nor wanted his doorman to suspect anything, especially, because it would be the first time he saw him get in his apartment with such a girl at such an early hour.

Thankfully, she was too engrossed with the luxurious hall to actually talk to him, so they could pass for almost strangers, but then he led her to the elevator.

“What floor are you on?” She asked curiously, looking at the amount of buttons in the elevator, hovering her finger over them.

“Twenty two.” He said, and let her push it for him.

“It must be quite a view!” She said surprised, turning to look at him. His lips curved in a somewhat smile, as he nodded.

“Yes, it is indeed.” She smiled softly and waited for the elevator doors to open, jumping up and down on her tiptoes, impatient.

Once they got there, they entered his apartment.

“Wow!” She immediately commented. 

His house was quite modern, most of the walls were wide windows that gave a sight of the city, an open space for his living room kitchen and dining room, his bed and bathroom separated by a hallway. His house was modern, luxurious and elegant.

“Do you live here?” She asked as she watched around, mesmerized by the place.

“I do.” He asked, pleased by her reaction. She stopped and looked at him.

“It’s lovely. shall we cook now?”

As they ate, he tried to make her feel as comfortable as he could in his own house. Small chats were not really his thing. Chatting wasn’t his thing, unless it was for business.

“What happened today at school, kiddo? You still haven’t told me.” He asked as they moved from the table to the couch.

“It’s embarrassing.” She admitted as she rubbed her arm and sat on the couch in front of him.

“You’re embarrassed of telling me?” He raised his eyebrow, looking at her. “You can tell me anything” He sat back comfortably against the arm of the couch. He looked at her as she looked down and started playing with her fingers.

“We had a different lesson today at school…” She starts, and he calmly looks at her, letting her take her time to tell him. “We– we had a lesson about sexual education, and–” She took a deep breath, as Aemond felt that hot feeling on his chest again, anger.”Some of my classmates looked at me, laughing quietly, I– I don’t know, exactly why… but…” She paused again, and kept playing with her fingers.

“But?” He asked, leaning forward.

“But I–I think I can guess why? I– I mea, I’m not… really uhm– I have never.. I’m not familiar with… touch.” He felt like chuckling, but he dared not, especially considering the color of his girl’s face at the moment, red as a tomato.

“Touch. Touch like…?” He asked, a bit confused. She quickly shook her head.

“No, I mean, I obviously get touched! I–” She sighed and shyly put her hand on her arm, trying to prove herself. 

“Sexual touch?” He asked then, staring at her hand on his arm. He heard her gasp, and he raised his gaze at her, seeing her so red, he thought she would pass out.

“... yes…” She answered, ashamed.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, you know, kiddo?” He looked at her and gently brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. “You just need the right man, when you’ll feel ready.”

“I can0t really trust someone now, can I? I– I mean, I would like to… try new things, kiss someone maybe, but… how, how can I find the right person? You’re the only one I trust!” She pressed her hand on her face, and he smiled briefly.

“If you trust me, I can… help you?” He suggested. He knew she would have never thought bad about what he just said, but he had a clear plan in his mind. She looked at him between her fingers, surprised.

“Help… me?” She repeated.Aemond nodded again.

“You said you trust me.” He stated, and she nodded again, taking her hand off her face. “Then trust me now. Come, kiddo.” He sat right on the couch, and widened his legs, indicating her to sit between them. She looked at him for a moment, trying to understand if he really expected her to do it or not, but seeing his seriousness, she slowly stood up, and moved with her back in front of him, looking behind her as she sat on the couch between his legs.

“You can tell me to stop whenever you want to, okay kiddo?” He murmured in her ear from behind. He saw on the back of her neck and shoulders her goosebumps. “Just know… I’m doing this for you.” He put his hand on her shoulders, caressing her softly, letting his fingers trace imaginary lines on her soft skin, enjoying the contact for himself. He went down to her forearms and arms, ending on her hands.

She turned her head to the side to see him, her mouth slightly parted.

“Answer me, kiddo, I need your words.” His voice hoarse, as he intertwined his fingers with hers.

“O–okay…” She nodded as she uncertainty leaned her head back against his shoulder.

“This fine for you?” He asked as he kept brushing her fingers up and down her arms. She nodded again, closing her eyes. He slowly moved his fingers from her hand to her thighs, just caressing her from over the skirt.

He heard her take a deep shaky breath.

“I’m gonna show you how a man should make you feel, kiddo, okay? If he doesn't, you'll leave them.” He ordered in her ear. She looked again at him, her eyebrows furrowed.

“You can trust me, kiddo, I’m just helping you, you know?” He slowly started raising her skirt. “I’m doing you a favor.” He kept repeating, as he lifted her skirt over her thighs, as she kept staring at him.

“Wh– what do you want to do? Aemond– I…” She started breathing heavily, squeezing her thighs together.

“It’s okay, kiddo, just close your eyes, you’ll feel good, I’ll make you feel good, I promise.” He brushed his lips against her ear, and he felt her shiver. He carefully wrapped his arms around her waist to bring her closer to his chest.

He looked down at her thighs, so soft and thick.

He brushed his hands over them, keeping his other arm secure around her waist.

“Relax, kiddo.” He whispered, as he slipped his hand between her thighs, finally.

He could feel his cock twitch in his breeches, begging for attention, touch. He groaned and ignored his urges, concentrating on her.

He slowly opened her legs, so that he could move his hand more freely, she didn’t resist him, she completely trusted him.

She shouldn’t be.

“Do you like this?” He asked as he looked at her face, her eyes closed. She pressed her lips together and nodded, her hands clenched into fists on his thighs.

“I’m going to make you understand why people like to touch each other, okay? Will you let me?” He asked as his fingers briefly brushed against her panties.

White cotton, like boxers for girls.

It was so different from all the other panties he had always seen, lace, lingerie, thong.

He always hated unsexy undergarments, yet, the sight of it only increased her sweet innocence, and turned him on even more.

He pressed his thumb against her clothed bud, making her jump back against him, he tightened his arm around her waist and kept her still.

“Shh, shh it’s okay, you like this, it’s okay.” He groaned as he kept pressing his thumb on her bud, slowly moving it from side to side.

“Aem– It’s strange, I– What…” She mumbled as her breathing only grew heavier.

“Calm down kiddo, enjoy it, you like it.” He kept repeating as he kept moving his thumb on her. She threw her head back on his shoulder again, letting out a strangled whine, her hand opening and grabbing his thigh, digging his fingers on his skin. He smirked as groaned softly.

“You like this, kiddo, just relax.” He moved his hand away, and he played a moment with the band of her panties, slowly moving his fingers beneath it, so she could have the time to stop him.

She didn’t, she didn’t, and there was no way he would have stopped now.

He was going to take what belonged to him.

He traced the line of her slit, as she squirmed a bit, whining.

“It’s okay, kiddo, I got you.” He pressed a kiss on her temple, as he moved his fingers again over her slit, feeling how his fingers were getting wet. He smirked again and kissed the top of her head. He pressed his thumb on her bud, as he kept working one of his fingers over her entrance, just teasing her, despite how much he wanted to slip it in, feeling how tight she was, her untouched walls struggling to accommodate one of his fingers.

“You're ready for more, kiddo? Do you want more, more pleasure?” He whispered in her ear. Ste turned her head and opened her eyes, looking at him with her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes shining due to the tears gathering in them, her breathing growing irregular and heavier.

“Aemond… this is strange…” She whimpers as she squirms again, trying to escape the pressure of his thumb on her pearl.

“You want me to stop?” He asked. “You like this, so why do you want me to stop, mh?” He slipped his finger inside, just half of it, and she moaned loudly, surprised, grabbing his arm with both of her hands, holding onto it for dear life, as she kicked her legs, but his arm wrapped around her waist kept her secure against him.

“Aemond– Oh–” She moaned again as he slowly started to move it in and out, not pushing his finger in completely.

“Lay back, enjoy kiddo.” He pushed her back against his chest, and she bent her head back further, her legs bending and opening wider by themselves.

“Aemond… please, it’s so strange–” She let out a choked moan, arching her back. He smiled at seeing her so out of control for a mere finger, his mind wandering, imagining how she would scream if it would have been his cock instead.

“You do not like it?” He looked closely at him, how her face contorted at every single move of his finger. She shook her head. “Use your words, kiddo, I want to hear it.” He ordered, speeding up the movements of his fingers, pushing it deeper, searing for that sweet spot inside her. When he saw her moan again and tried to close her legs, he knew he had found it. She moaned again out loud, her mouth open as she tried to breathe in.

“Say it, kiddo. Tell me. Do you like this or not?” He placed his other hand on her knee, opening her legs again.

“Aemond…” She whined as she turned her head, pressing it against his chest, as she clenched her hands on his shirt, desperately trying to hide herself.

“Stay with me, kiddo, tell me what you feel.” His hand kept working that spot inside her, as his thumb bruised against her pearl, he felt her walls clenching on his fingers.

“I…” She cried out as she tried to hide her face further in his chest. “It… it feels… good.” She moaned again.

“That’s right, it feels good mh?” He groaned as she squirmed again and her body rubbed against his cock. “Fuck–” He growled, he was hard rock, and despite his cock was yearning attention, e was trying to only concentrate on him, even if it was fucking hard.

“Aemond… it feels really good– but so strange, please… I– I don’t know what’s happening… I feel so tense, ah!” She  started squirming uncontrollably, her face red, and shiny by a soft layer of sweat as her walls spasmed around his finger, as she came in a loud moan. Her breathing fast, irregular, her face relaxed, her body limp, resting completely on his. He moved his fingers for a few more moments, trying to help her riding out her strong orgasm, but he stopped as he saw a hint of discomfort on her face. He slowly pulled his fingers out, as she rested her face on his chest, her eyes closed, he licked his fingers.

Sweet, pure nectar.

“You okay kiddo?” He asked once he had cleaned his fingers completely. She let out a sweet noise, and he smiled, closing her legs and pulling down her skirt, he pulled her to him, her legs over his thigh as she kept her face pressed on his shirt.

“You were beautiful, you know?” He kissed the top of her head, leaning back on the couch.

 He was aware that his excitement was more than evident, and that she could see it, but even feel it against her side, but he did nothing to relieve himself.

Not yet.

Not now.

Maybe in a few minutes?

Tag: @zenka69 @blaustappen @julczimozart @diannnnsss @i66cilla @queenofthekeep @summerposie @tssf-imagines @vaylint @sweet-nothings-s @esposamultifandom @av989436751 @ladythornofrivia @xcinnamonmalfoyx @deliaseastar @kotadislikesthissite @nebulamorada @madelynwalt @shari-berri @seraphdayiwah @witchy-jadda @odeioemail @alphard-hydraes-blog @isntitdelicatevivi @famousrebeldaze @ssnapsaurus @paigeestrawfordd

[mediumgayitalian]

fic rec friday 16

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

best friend, baby by @ghosttotheparty*

“You— You make me feel so… good,” he finishes lamely, his head void of any words that could describe it, because how can Will describe the peace he finds in Nico’s presence, or the way he feels like he can finally breathe whenever Nico looks into his eyes? “You’re my favourite person,” he breathes. “My best friend.”

hooooooo boy the intimacy tag was NOT joking. i was gagged. yall tell me all the time how high u value will angst and like....this one DEVASTATED me for him??? like do yall ever think about how the first dialogue we hear from will in nico's perspective is self-loathing. yall ever think about how nico has always known him hating himself. well this author did. "i know you hate yourself but just because you hate yourself doesnt mean everyone else does too" hey what if we FOUGHT. also im going back in to all my FRFs to star my FAVE FAVE FAVE fics bc this is one of them LET ME TELL YOU.

2. just a dumb game by @ghosttotheparty

Nico di Angelo is not a party person. But Will Solace is going to be there. So.

they are SO FUCKING GAY and SO FUCKING IN LOVE and SO FUCKING STUPID. god i love them so fucking bad like they are inherently down bad obsessed with each other and this is how they should be. this is the way of the world.

3. even in the silver light by @ghosttotheparty

Nico is back. Will is still smitten.

first of all. latino and nb will. thank you. second of all. i am (obviously) obsessed with this author bc they KILLLLLL w burning intimacy. like you have no idea they write them like there is a twice burning fire only alive within them it's CRAZZZYYY. i also fckn LOVE that this is like. okay so the author says its plotless and it is kind of 45k of plotless, yes, but idk theres something to be said of love as a plot?? of learning and loving each other as a storyline.

4. splash by @ghosttotheparty

Annabeth is reading her favourite book. Someone walks directly into her.

yeah okay i think this is another one author week. sue me. this fic made me GRIN okay. it was so fucking cute and sweet and soft and autistic annabeth my beloved!! my love and light!! they are so in love in every universe fr and i fckn LOVE them dude i am OBSESSED. when this author writes people together it's as if you can hear them click.

5. isnt she lovely by @ghosttotheparty

Their eyes always meet in the halls. Her eyes are grey and shiny, and they make Percy think of stormy skies and marble sculptures. (She could be a marble sculpture, in the entrance of a museum, surrounded by scholars and artists and mesmerised passersby. Fucking beautiful in a way that only art ever is.) - - - Percy has had a crush on Annabeth since eighth grade. (He doesn’t know she likes him too.)

percy hitting the ground when annabeth kisses him 😭😭 HES SO REAL. i just recced this fic on instagram and i am here reccing it again bc it is EXCELLENT. i rly rly love to see pjotv percabeth in fic like i DO. theyre so fucking cute. and i LOVE how this author writes autistic annabeth!! it is so important to me!!! and this one is so CUTE like percy had such a huge crush on him.....like not just he liked her he had a CRUSH on her. god. i am melting.

thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Twenty-Five (The End)

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Authors note: The ending! The final chapter of Matty and Mouse's story, my heart is actually breaking. Honestly loved writing these two, as well as baby Teds, and I hope you lot loved them too because all the love this series has gotten means so much, it feels surreal. Hopefully I can write a few blurbs of them or something in the future but this is it for now. So thank you for all the support!

Warnings: EMOTIONS, Matty and Mouse way of thinking, little bit of angst, referencing to past hurts (such as not making it to a certain age), smut, unprotected sex, self-conscious characters?

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

Matty wouldn’t have been able to say what the time must have been if anyone had dared ask. He’d been propped up against the headboard, still in his t-shirt and jeans, his hand never having fallen from the top of her head even after she’d finally worn herself out and drifted to sleep.

His stomach churned pitifully at the reminder, at how hard she had cried. Gasping and sobbing into that fucking pillow she still held onto, all whilst clinging to the skin of his wrist with an unforeseen strength. As though she’d been pleading in her grip of him, asking him not to go just yet.

That hold had diminished a tad during the night, she’d always been a fitful sleeper– had kneed him one too many times between the legs for him to not know that fact– but this time around… She’d been almost deathly still, aside from the frowning expressions that clouded her face whilst she’d dreamt.

He continued to sit there though, watching on as the moon sunk so that the sun could slowly climb its way into the irradiating sky, giving way to that first hint of morning.

He hadn’t slept a wink, not really. Nodded off for a second or two once or twice before he’d found himself jerking awake again. Couldn’t seem to stay down for much longer than that.

And why would he? When he’d all but destroyed the woman laying beside him. This proud, strong and resilient woman that he’d been so idolised by, so enraptured with. The one person in his fucking forsaken life that had appeared so utterly invincible.

She was a survivor. A mother. A friend. 

And she was kind. Funny. Resilient.

Then she’d gone and met him, hadn’t she?

And he’d ruined her like he did everything else.

Practically broken her. 

Torn the last pieces of her further apart.

The thought alone made him feel sick to his stomach. Aching with this unbound need to grovel and cry at her very feet, to make her see enough sense so that she could understand just how much she didn’t need someone like him. That she was strong enough to do it all alone. That she didn’t need to cling to him as she had, like rust to a buoy long lost at sea.

Guilt.

That was what that sticky feeling growing in his gut was. That overwhelming malady that was eating him up from the inside out, making him feel so utterly sick.

He had come over to see her. So that they might be able to talk things out. He’d come to apologise. To make things right between them. But instead, what had he done?

Pushed.

He’d pushed and fucking pushed, forcing her hand enough so that she had cracked and he’d been able to slip past those high guarded walls of hers.

And now here they were.

He couldn’t bring himself to regret it though– not all of it at least. 

To have held her again… It had calmed some sick twisted part of him. 

To have just seen her and heard her voice, no matter how pained and angry it had been. It was like the world around him had softened for a split second. Become all grainy.

Matty glanced back over to her sleeping form, to the way she had bundled the duvet high up over her head so that the tip of her nose could bury itself in the slight curve it made, her chin tucked away. 

His hand was still lost somewhere in her hair, thumb cascading out over her temple every now and then, but he didn’t dare pull away. Not until he had no other choice in the matter. 

So he carried on, staying there and lying awake. Thinking over the night before. Thinking back to her devastated expression, to the wary look her eyes had held. To the way she hadn’t spoken a word. To how she had simply forced her cries into silent sobs.

Suddenly, he was stuck on the very realisation that she hadn’t been reacting to it all, to everything she’d been feeling, to what had happened, but rather retreating. Hiding away whilst, somehow, still allowing him to be near. To stay. To watch over her.

A soft sniff had him blinking, regaining composure quick enough so that he could catch the scene play out before him. 

…

I was embarrassed by the previous night's events. By the fact that I had been so determined to keep Matty at arms length and then failed entirely. That he had seen me so weak and well– broken.

But it had all come to a head, I supposed.

I’d been keeping up appearances ever since everything had fallen out, putting on a brave face and a smile for anyone and everyone who could see. It was only ironic, I guessed, for Matty to have been the one to shatter that image completely. 

Still, I swallowed at the sight of him still sitting there beside me the next morning, seeming as though he hadn’t moved an inch throughout the whole night, and shoved all that shame back down. 

“Thought you’d be gone by now.” I heard myself say as I flipped over onto my back so that I could stare up at the ceiling and at the sun drawn lines that stretched out across it.

I listened to his quiet laugh, to the way he shuffled slightly on the mattress, though I didn’t dare look back at him. It was too early and I already felt as though he’d seen enough of me. “Was just hoping for a chance at one of your brews, is all.”

Something in me shifted at his easy words. At the fact that he’d chosen to try and make me smile, instead of calling me out on all my messy bullshit.

“And if I’ve got no milk?” I replied, just because this was easier than arguing anymore.

I felt him shift, probably shrugging if I knew him as well as I thought I did. “Shops open soon enough.”

The corner of my mouth twitched, although I continued my staring contest with the blank space sat high above us. 

“Who says I’ll let you back in?”

He did laugh then, a deep rumble of a chuckle that was rough from disuse and a lack of sleep. Matty sniffed, “Just gonna have to try my luck then, I ‘spose.”

It was only in that next second that I realised something, something that had me inhaling sharply as Matty’s fingers dragged their way through my hair to tuck a frizzy strand behind my ear, before then pulling away entirely.

My eyes slipped closed at the sudden loss and my hands curled into tight fists beneath the duvet at the very thought of him having stayed that way throughout the night. Of having held me in the only way he’d been able to, as though he believed it might have kept some small part of me together. Only pulling away now that he could see that I wasn’t going to crack beneath the weight of everything I still held.

The bed shifted and the sound of his feet hit the floor.

From the corner of my eye, I watched him as he stood.

Matty moved throughout my bedroom with an ease I didn’t even own, picking up the hoodie he’d thrown over my desk chair all those days ago, the same one I hadn’t allowed myself to touch, let alone wear. 

I almost told him not to take it, but withheld. Only just managing to bite down on my tongue as I watched him shrug it on. It was his afterall.

“Gonna nick your keys,” He told me whilst he shook the hood out around his neck and dragged it up over his tousled curls, “Only be about ten minutes. You can shower or whatever, not worry about letting me back in.”

I could only nod in return and he smiled, pausing in the doorway to look back at me for a second or two before he nodded, almost fretfully, and turned away.

I waited, lying there still enough that I was surprised I didn’t go stiff from how tightly I was wound, until I heard the familiar rattle of keys and then the squeaking hinges of the front door. It closed behind him so quietly that had I not been holding my breath I might not have even heard it. 

I was rubbing at my face not a minute later, hauling back tears leftover from last night's show, before I heaved an anguished scream that was more air than actual sound from my lungs.

Forcing myself to calm– and not dissolve into fucking hysterics– I willed myself up, noting that I was still naked as I kicked the covers away. Another thing I’d gone and bared for him, I supposed. As though it wasn’t enough that I had already cried myself to sleep with him just sitting a hand’s stretch away, but that we’d actually gone and slept together. After everything.

My head was warring with my heart as I dragged myself up out of the dirtied sheets, throwing on an old tee so that I could shove them into the washer before he got back. I forced myself into the shower quickly after, letting the hot water roll off my skin.

I must’ve been stood there for a long while, drowning under the heavy spray, because it was the sound of the door that broke me from the faraway place I’d found myself in whilst staring at the tiled walls.

Blinking, I wiped the water from out of my eyes and forced myself to wash, lathering up my hair and going through the motions, before I finally stepped out. 

I didn’t dare peer into the mirror, not all too desperate to see the state I’d worked myself into on my way out. Choosing to head back into the bedroom instead, padding over towards the dresser to pull out some clean clothes and only noticing the fresh sheets that had been pulled onto the bed when I’d finally dressed.

The towel I’d been holding to lightly dry my hair slowly dropped to my side at the sight. I opened my mouth to call out and probably ask– But I stopped myself before I could. Ask what? I wondered. Why? Then shook my head at the very idea.

Doing the smart thing by shutting my mouth, I dumped the towel in the hamper and pulled on a pair of socks, taking a deep breath before deciding to venture further out into the flat. 

I found him in the kitchen.

He didn’t peer over his shoulder but he must’ve heard me putter in because he greeted me: “I know I said I’d be quick but I passed by that little bakery on my way back– that hidden gem we liked that one time? Anyway, it just smelt fuckin’ devine.” He accentuated that last bit, making me smile slightly, “And I just couldn’t not, you know? Been a while, but they had those danishes you like in the window. Got a couple to share as well as some other bits.” Matty explained, head still halfway in the bag he’d obviously brought back with him, a pint of milk sat alone on the side, “And a sausage roll for Teds– kid was eating them like he was gonna starve a while ago. So I just thought...”

Matty shrugged, as though that in itself was no big deal, him thinking of my son, and turned around to glance my way with a display case of baked-goods now lining my kitchen counter.

I snorted softly at the sight, jerking my chin out towards the lot of them, “Just thought you’d bring back half the shop?” I teased and was all too pleased when he chuckled around the beginnings of a smirk.

He was quick with his quip, “So I’m guessin’ you don’t want one of these danishes then?” 

I narrowed my eyes at the sheer nerve. “I never said that.”

Matty’s nose scrunched with his next shrug before he moved to snap one up for himself. “Sort of sounded like it, sweetheart.”

I shook my head, biting down on my growing grin as I slid across the kitchen to grab at one too. 

I hummed around the first bite I took and all but moaned at the flavour of it, blinking my eyes back open only to find Matty wearing the most delighted little grin. I rolled my eyes but didn’t grant him the gift of an actual reply, though it didn’t seem to waver him either way.

We seemed to move seamlessly around one another after that; him filling up the kettle whilst I placed two mugs down on the countertop; the clink of a teaspoon being shot into one cup as I moved to grab the tin of tea bags; Matty switching the radio on like it was second nature and me smiling away to myself as I poured the milk.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek once we’d finally settled, he’d chosen to take up room at the table whilst I carefully stored the remaining pastries away for later.

I wanted to talk, to try and hash things out again, because this felt right to me. Him being here. In my dingy little kitchen, small but still so crowded with all sorts of bits and bobs, as well as a plethora of crayon coloured drawings. And he just, well, Matty just fit here. Or maybe that was just me hoping. Ignoring the bigger warning signs so that I wouldn’t have to feel so alone again.

Was he lying to me?

Had he relapsed?

Did he cheat?

It didn’t seem like he’d done any of those things. There was no guilt in his gaze and yesterday… I’d never seen him like that. Even whilst stressed or overwhelmed, Matty had never cried. He’d never looked at me like that either, as though he was slowly breaking before my eyes.

He’d said his piece, he’d promised, and then he’d apologised. 

But.

What if I was just making a bigger mug of myself here?

Letting him back in. Giving him my forgiveness. Having him in my bed.

Was I saying that it was okay? Was that the impression I’d be giving? That he could lie and walk all over me and that everything would still be fine.

It left the world feeling a little more tilted than it had been only moments before. It left me questioning everything, once again.

…

“What are we doing, Matty?”

Matty was slow in looking back over at her, fingers tapping aimlessly away on the kitchen table to some song that had been playing on the radio. 

“What do you mean?”

She huffed, a quiet chuckle full of disbelief rippling through the air, “I mean, what are we doing here?” 

“The fuck if I know.” Matty replied, just as soft as that laughter she’d given him, shrugging at her from across the kitchen. Because what was he meant to say to that?

She just shook her head in turn though, completely unaware to the way he was now watching her. Taking her all in. The way the outline of her body glowed whilst bathed in the morning light that shone in through the windows. Of how her slowly drying hair curled at parts in the easy breeze that crept by. And how endeared he was by the way she never failed to tuck her joggers, or pyjama bottoms, or whatever else she’d decided to throw on whilst at home into her socks. It made her who she was, all these mindless little tidbits that he’d gathered over the last year, that he had observed. 

“We can’t just– move on. Carry on like nothing’s happened.” She sounded frustrated. Sad.

“Why not?” It was almost sarcastic, the way he said it, but his voice held a whole lot of truth to it. He wanted this and he wanted her. And he’d be a fucking fool to deny it. 

And what would the world make of the two of them anyway? Cause she’d gone and claimed the very same thing last night, hadn’t she? 

The pair of them, fools.

“‘Cause everything’s a mess.” She answered back, staring at him now, almost defeated. 

Her shoulders were slumped and she wore that sad smile she often favoured when she was at a loss, slowly being eaten away by a horde of thoughts she couldn’t seem to control. 

He watched her fidget with the hem of her sleeve, peering down at it. 

“Because after everything, Matty,” She breathed, voice soft even in the quiet of the kitchen, “I know that I love you and I don’t want to lose what we have left here. I don’t want that ruined.”

Matty’s mouth worked itself into a small smile as his eyes dragged between her own, trailing over the short scar that crossed the bridge of her nose, remembering the night she’d teared up when he’d reached out to caress it. 

“I’d rather be ruined by you than not have you at all, Mouse.”

She blew air from out of her nose in a soundless chuckle, cheeks rounding around an amused grin for the briefest of seconds before her eyes skittered away from him again. “That meant to be all poetic?”

He gave her a curt nod and then just grinned, legs fanned out before him. “In the job description. Musician, remember?”

“Oh, do I.” She quipped back just as sarkily, leaning against the counter as she continued to watch him from under dark lashes. Matty reckoned he’d let her shove him under a microscope if it got her to let him stick around. If only for a while longer.

A silence passed between them. 

“I love you.” Matty murmured, so sure of that fact, “That much I know. But I won’t ask you for anything more than I already have, you make the choice. You can hold the cards. And whatever you decide, I’ll accept.”

Her face hardened a fraction, as though she were steeling herself for an argument or something other. Hiding how underprepared she’d been for his words perhaps. Matty only hoped that she’d heard the truth in them.

“No fight? You’ll just accept it and leave?”

Matty didn’t dare blink but dipped his head in slight acknowledgement. “If that’s what you want.”

The woman before him just continued to stare him down and for once, Matty couldn’t read her face. Had no idea what the hell she might’ve been thinking. Or feeling. Or what plans she was currently devising in that clever head of hers.

“Okay.”

It took all of his sheer effort not to react to that one simple word, even though she had practically just gone and ripped his fucking heart out of his chest. 

Actually, he supposed that was another lie he’d told. She’d done that months ago, on the day they’d met and went and ruined him for good.

I’d rather be ruined by you.

It’s what he’d said.

He couldn’t go back on it now. 

“Okay.” He answered her, voice just barely above a whisper that he wasn’t sure she heard over the squeaking of his chair legs.

And then he was standing in her kitchen for what he supposed would be the last time. He saw her grip the edge of the counter, knuckles whitening, gaze unstraying, but she didn’t say another word. 

They stared at one another for what felt like the longest minute on Earth and Matty could practically feel the ground shifting beneath the soles of his feet as he realised that now everything would really change.

His breath caught, the thought hitting him like a shit ton of bricks and he knew then that he had to leave before he broke down and took it all back. Before he was a fucking mess of a man on her kitchen floor. 

He turned on his heel and made for the door.

“Where’re you going?”

Matty froze, entirely rooted to the floor.

He continued to stare resolutely ahead, scared to move in case she had changed her mind. In case she was saying what he thought she was.

“Your tea’s gonna go cold… and I thought you could pick Teds up with me later.” She was going for nonchalant, aiming and almost hitting, but she missed the mark by just a hair. “He was with Ads yesterday, you know, and she dropped him off at nursery this morning for me. Just figured.”

Matty pivoted on his heel, slow going and hardly daring to steal a breath as he did, before he was looking straight at her. At the way her teeth had sunk into her lower lip, the careful sheen her eyes had taken on, and then the singular strand of hair which had fallen from behind her ear. He was across the room and on her in a second. 

Firm hands held her face, thumbs guarding either cheek as he bored everything he couldn’t seem to say into the next look he gave to her. Wanting her to see it all. To know, or simply understand.

“You’re gonna kill me.”

She laughed.

“Wanna bet…” Her words trailed off into a heavy breath and Matty could feel the strength of his grin as he leaned in close, nose bumping against hers, his eyes flickering over the entirety of her face, attempting to take her in all at once.

There was buzzing under his skin, he could feel it in the tips of his fingers, all the way down to his toes, and heard the way it hummed throughout his chest. 

It was then that he realised he couldn’t see an end without her in it.

He wanted everything with this woman. 

Everything.

And that should’ve been the most terrifying thought.

Because once he had believed he would never see the end of sixteen, puking into the bushes outside his bedroom window and not having the strength to make it that extra mile. To let mum know that he was alright.

Then it had been nineteen, that first real stint in hospital. He’d been scared to shit and alone, the darkness hiding all the groans and upset of the other patients with real issues.

But nineteen had come and gone, so then he figured twenty-one. Maybe twenty-two? Definitely twenty-five… Had to be.

Twenty-eight had been both the end and the beginning for him. 

But even without everything that had been holding him back after that, the drugs, the people, the money. After he’d gotten clean– proper clean– he’d never really thought far enough ahead. 

To a point where he might feel settled or want to start building a place for himself in the world. A real place, one amongst family and friends, not just amongst admiration and music– as much as it had helped shape him.

He’d never once pictured this. A person. 

Girlfriends? Yeah. Flings and one night stands? Sure. But a person that would be his. Completely. That he could share half of himself with?

No, he couldn’t say that he’d ever seen that coming, that something like this would have one day been in the cards for him.

And Matty wanted so badly to sink his claws in and cling on for as long as he possibly could, for as long as she’d be willing, and then even more so. Until somebody else came along and inevitably unhooked him. But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t dare. Because this was too perfect to go and destroy like that. 

He’d always claimed to be a selfish man, but in this regard, all the love he had worth giving would be spent on her. On the days they’d spend together. On meals and dates. On flowers and apologies for when he eventually messed up again, because he knew himself too well to deny that fact. He’d spend it on giving her security, on rebuilding her trust. He’d spend it on her son. On the little boy he’d become so besotted by.

And if it ruined him, if it killed him? He reckoned he’d be okay with that.

He’d be content. Finally having something to be proud of.

“What are you waiting for?”

Matty eyes tracked the length of her face, fingers tangled in her hair whilst his thumbs pressed into the grooves of her temples. What was he waiting for? 

As soon as he thought it, Matty was pressing against her once more, stealing all the breath from her lungs in his haste to answer her.

It was slow, the kiss; soft in the way his lips captured hers for only a few seconds before he was pulling away again, hands shaking where he still cupped her cheeks.

He wanted to make sure that this was what she wanted, but he could see it in her face, that surety, the warmth. And he wouldn’t question that, maybe in some regards he’d be willing to give her anything, but here and now, with this, with wanting her, he would as selfish as he fucking could be. He’d take all that she would give him.

The next kiss was full and deep– urgent.

Matty’s tongue slid into her mouth, hands falling aimlessly away from her face to whatever part of her he could touch, feeling no ounce of remorse over it seeing as she was on the exact same journey, her fingers winding their way up and over every inch of him. 

She kissed back with just as much force, colliding with him in a way that almost felt tortured, as though trying to make up for all the time they had wasted. Not just over the past few days, but the weeks and months they’d spent dancing around one another, pushing and pulling. Despairing this game of tug of war they had started. 

It ended here.

Matty continued to lean up into her, pressing her into the counter as she clawed at the hoodie he wore. Matty felt her nails catch on the skin of his back, whilst he wrapped his arms around her hips.

“Baby,” He whispered breathlessly and then moaned when her mouth closed around his bottom lip, teeth grazing against the flesh before they then bit down. She rocked into him and Matty swore his eyes rolled into the back of his head. 

He reached up a hand to cup the back of her neck so that he could mouth his way across her jaw and down her collar, favouring the skin just beneath her ear. “Need you.”

It was both an admission and a plea.

And then she was grabbing at his face too, forcing his mouth back up to meet hers, breath sweeping over the cut of his jaw. She tangled her fingers in his curls and Matty had the barest second to register that he was actually staying. That she was letting him back in.

His body jolted forward on impulse, arms snaking their way around her waist to splay out over her lower back, pulling her that much closer. Her hold tightened too, hand moving down his neck, thumb pressing lightly against the pulse point there. 

Matty stepped nearer and she welcomed him in, legs parting to let him step between them, kiss turning hungrier as she arched her back up and away from the countertop. He wanted all of her.

She let go of his hair to press in harder, pulling back only so that she could lick his mouth back open and drive her tongue inside. She murmured his name against his lips, once, twice. And then Matty’s hand was between the blades of her shoulders and holding fast. He moved, spinning them outwards, over towards the kitchen door.

She let out a sharp sound that was half gasp and half moan, but all love and desire when they knocked into the arm of the sofa in the living-room and fell back against the soft cushions. 

When they broke apart it was only out of necessity, the need to catch back the breath that had been forced out of them on their tumble down. They shared an airy chuckle.

Then he watched on as she stretched out further up the settee, fingers caught on his wrist so that she could tug him along with her. Their hips aligned as Matty crowded her again, elbow digging into the chair's arm to hold him up above her. He hovered there, their faces and foreheads pressed together, noses lined up side by side. Matty wished to savour every detail of her.

He kissed her again, slower, softer. His lips moved against hers so gently that it was almost reverent, worship-like, and she matched him toe for toe, pouring her whole soul into it, gifting him all the sweetness that she possibly could. 

Matty prayed to whoever might’ve been listening that he could have this.

He supposed someone must’ve heard him because she said, “Stay,” in this careless whisper, in a tone that was more breath than anything else. And his heart stopped.

And then he was nodding. Almost frantically.

He kissed her, the tip of his nose brushing the underneath of hers as he lifted his head to nod one more time. “Long as you’ll let me.”

She whimpered and he groaned, forehead pushing against hers once more as she lifted her hips up to meet his. 

Then they were both lunging for clothes in the same instant, nearly laughing at their clumsy eagerness to get undressed, the sofa being of no help.

Matty pushed back to sit up for a moment, luring her up gently with him so that he could slide her shirt off over her head. She returned the favour, letting him trail a finger over the curve of her shoulder and down her arm once they were done before she was on her back once more. 

“So beautiful.” He felt the need to whisper, even though there was no one else around to hear it. She glanced away.

Matty wouldn’t have that though, a careful hand coming up to coax her eyes back to him, hoping that she would hear the sincerity in his words. She was the best thing he’d ever seen, no matter the time of day. No matter how horrible she felt. He’d never been so enamoured by another person, or so utterly lost in his desperate need to make it known. 

His thumb caught on the corner of her mouth and he smiled. “I meant it.” He assured her and felt her shiver beneath him as his words fanned the skin of her cheek, “Beautiful.”

She swallowed thickly, he saw the bob of her throat before he slid his palms down her sides to unhook her bra, dropping it off to the side so that he could mouth along the length of her torso.

He continued to murmur, tone so full of admiration as he attempted to press the words into her skin, hoping that this way they would somehow sink in.

By the time he reached the hem of her trousers she was writhing beneath him, eyes pleading, so Matty made quick work of ridding them, allowing himself to look her over for just a second. She truly was beautiful. 

“Matty,” The sound of his name forced his eyes back up and he was thrown by the dazzling smile she then wore. She took one of his hands in hers, linking their fingers, “I don't have all day, baby.”

He merely shook his head and laughed, figuring that she must’ve seen the many emotions that played out across his face afterwards because she tightened her hold on his hand and motioned him closer so that she could kiss him again.

He took her there on the settee. Worked her over slow and hard, his gaze only ever wavering when they slipped shut or he buried his face alongside the skin of her neck. His hands wandered whilst hers clung tight, leaving him marked and gasping. She murmured the whole while, legs wrapped around his middle to keep him as close as she possibly could, so that he could drive that bit deeper. Matty had never heard her so vocal, just muttering on and on, only ever stopping to cry out or jolt. But even then her words would either come out all warped or in a sharp shout. It only proved to spur him on though, fingers digging in and bruising the soft sides of her hips and thighs.

He could hardly think, listening to her pleads and commands. Such a demanding little thing. 

The heels of her feet dug into his flesh as her arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders, holding on, sinking her nails into his skin deep enough to have him hissing. He didn’t dare tell her to let up, just attempted to pick up his pace, hand falling away from the crease of her thigh to drag along her folds, needing her to let go before he could.

“Close?”

He was met with a choked gasp: “Yeah.” Followed by a cascade of assent, breath wetting the cut of his jaw as her hands jumped up to curl themselves along his shoulders.

Matt felt himself nod, but was hardly even aware of it, gaze trained on her face, the watering of her eyes, the pink swell of her lips. “So good for me. Don’t deserve you.”

His words just made her strengthen her already too tight hold and then she was writhing beneath him, tear sliding down the side of her face just as her head tilted far back against the cushions and she moaned.

He wasn’t far behind her, but she continued to work her hips to the best of her ability whilst his thrusts became more and more desperate. He only noticed that he was clenching his teeth when her fingers came up to thread through his hair, slackening the muscles there in his face just as his head fell forward, hovering a centimetre or two above the dip in her collar.

Matty felt lips press against the side of his head, soft but there. “I love you.” She said, and he couldn’t even respond, lost in the sensations that overwhelmed him as he jolted forward, every muscle in his legs tensing as his eyes slammed close. 

His breathing was harsh and laboured when he finally managed to pull out, falling into the little space she created for him on the side of the sofa. He draped an arm over her middle, not giving much thought to the damp sheen on their skin or the mess between her thighs. They could have this for a little while longer.

Matty hid a smile, nosing along her shoulder as he better settled into his position before he kissed the sweet skin there. Her back was to him now, him wrapped up around her body, their legs entangled, and he thought back to those few words of hers. 

Back to that night she’d first said them. 

To when she had last said them.

He started to trail a finger over her side, up and then down before he decided to trace each letter one by one. He heard her huff a laugh when she finally caught on, but he pressed on, writing more.

When she patted his hand and shifted, he frowned, wondering if he’d pushed too far, too quickly, even though she’d been the one to say it first. But she just rolled around to face him and grinned at the face he must’ve worn.

“You’re an idiot.”

His brow pinched but he still felt himself smile, “What?”

She laughed all lovelylike and he blinked at the sweetness of it, wondering when he’d gotten so used to hearing such a pretty fucking sound. 

He poked at her side, prodding, “Go on, tell me.”

With a fond roll of her eyes, Matty watched the stretch of her smile  soften before he stilled slightly at her slow touch, the drag of her finger which trailed over his stubbled cheek. “Just such a you thing to do.” She teased him quietly, fingertip reaching up to skim over the bridge of his nose and then his eyelids.

Matty shrugged, narrowing his eyes a tad but unable to truly hide the small smirk he was wearing. He moved his hand back to her hip, tracing another word that had her huffing and shaking her head in sudden exasperation. Then another. And another.

Her eyes were wide when he chanced a glance up at her and she swallowed at the earnest expression he gifted her. “I mean it.” He whispered into the tiny slot of space that rested between their heads.

He watched as her stare tracked along his face, flicking from one eye to the other. “How can you be so sure?”

Matty shrugged the shoulder that wasn’t pressed up against the settee, a small smile dancing on his mouth. “Never been sure of much, but I know this.”

She quirked an eyebrow, “This your way of askin’?”

Chuckling lightly, he shook his head in turn. “Nah, gotta think of something good. Big.” He grinned at the snort she gave, but continued on anyway, fingers simply brushing against her hip now, “Figure we need time to get there again, sort through this mess.”

“Again?”

Matty hummed, thinking back to the bout of songs he’d been working on over the last few months, to the days G had smirked and asked about some of the lyrics he’d written down. “Been playing on my mind.”

There was a small curve to her brow now, an almost frown but not, Matty knew her well enough to know that she was just a little thrown by his answer.

“How long?”

Her whispered ask had him thinking, but he couldn’t really give her an exact time span. He’d hardly even realised it himself. “I don’t know, but for a while.”

She breathed out a quiet little laugh, eyes darting between his own once more, “So one day then?”

Matty hummed happily, face breaking into a slow going grin as one of his hands came up to cup her face, thumb soothing her cheek. “One day, Squeaks,” He murmured to her, “I’m gonna marry the shit out of you.”

Her cheek warmed beneath his touch but she laughed, shaking her head ever so slightly whilst her eyes looked down before shooting right back up again. “You’re gonna regret that.”

Wrinkling his nose a tad and curling his upper lip, Matty just shook his head, “Nah, don’t reckon so.”

“You say that,” She all but sang before she was kicking up a storm in his hold, quickly trying to get away from the hand that had come up to run a rhythm down her side, tickling her into shutting that daft mouth of hers.

“Yeah, I do fuckin’ say.” Matty chuckled, grinning madly as he continued to grab at her, teasing her bare skin with his tormenting touch. It was with that in which Mouse went sailing, rolling away from him in an attempt to escape, and dragging Matty with, him still so caught up in her that the pair of them went tumbling to the living-room floor.

Matty felt as though all the air in his lungs had been kicked from his chest once the world had stopped spinning and finally righted itself. He realised all too quickly what had happened, a heap of hair splayed over his face as he spluttered. 

“Fuck.” He managed to drag out, forcing a huffy laugh from his chest.

He watched on as she struggled for a second, him having cushioned her fall, and she pushed up onto her palms so that she could glare down at him, not entirely unhappy. Matty snorted and raised his arms in defence.

“Don’t blame me.”

If it was at all possible, her eyes cut sharper. “The fuck I won’t! Why’d you start tickling me?”

“Because you never know when to shut up!” Matty laughed, wheezing a little as he did and bending a knee so that he could plant one foot firmly on the floor, his hand rested on his chest.

She just rolled her eyes though as she battled to sit up, spine curving once she had. Matty reached out to trail the length of it, pulse jumping at the shiver he watched run through her.

“How’d we even go from you being such a sap to us on the floor?” Mouse huffed, reaching up to grab at a throw that had been resting on the nearby armchair. Matty watched through a lazy gaze as she bundled it into an oddly shaped ball of sorts before turning back to him. “Fucking all sticky now too.”

He smiled stupidly, folding his hands behind his head, unashamed as he was, to better protect it from the hardwood floors.

She stood with a roll of her eyes, on unsteady legs mind– something Matty felt all too pleased with– and caught sight of his smirk, and before he could even see it coming the bundled blanket was being thrown at his head. He yelped girlishly and floundered to shield himself from it but it still managed to catch the side of his face with just enough force. 

He listened to her hearty laugh as he tossed the thing back at her legs, frowning when it missed and her footsteps began to trail away. “Oi, where do you think you’re goin’?”

“To shower!” She called out from over her shoulder just before she could disappear through the doorway, “Again!”

Matty huffed a small snicker to himself and resorted to simply staring up at the ceiling whilst he waited, but before he could get too comfortable there she was calling out to him again.

“So you coming or what, Healy?”

And fuck if that didn’t have him scrambling up off of the floor to join her. He smiled when she merely laughed at the eager sight of him rounding the hallway and he found himself wondering how the fuck he’d managed this as she turned on the tap and pulled him under the water with her.

He must’ve seemed a little out of it though because she was tilting her head at him when he peered over at her, her hands at his hips. “You good?” 

Matty hummed quietly, dipping his head to kiss her once more because he could. “Yeah, just happy.”

And wasn’t that a thought. Him happy.

Mouse grinned at him, eyes lighting up with it as he stepped on closer. Her hold tightened, “Me too.”

Me too.

[yanderes-galore]

IM HERE AGAIN!! Anyways, can you do Yuji with your prompts 23 and 37 with a reader who keeps trying to escape?

I can try, sure! Doing an AU where you knew each other in Jujutsu High but once you graduated and grew older you went on to become advanced Sorcerers. It's unknown if Yuji still has Sukuna or not. Sorry if the plot isn't to your liking, I didn't have a lot to work with since Yuji is so tame on his own.

Yandere! Yuji Itadori Prompts 23 + 37

"You're crying... come a little closer, I'll make it all go away."

"We should get married! It's been long enough, hasn't it?"

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Kidnapping, Delusional behavior, Manipulation, Stalking, Isolation, Talks of marriage, Toxic themes, Clingy behavior, Slight starvation (You're choosing not to eat a lot), Implied mind break, Yuji is delusional yet a little lucid, Consensual turned forced relationship.

Yuji Itadori has been your boyfriend since graduation. He had been hopelessly in love with you ever since you two started to dedicate yourselves more to your field and each other. Life's been good in your eyes, especially since Yuji has only ever been getting better when handling himself.

So how did things get so bad?

Nowadays instead of being a happy couple, you're trapped in your apartment. Yuji was adamant when you both graduated to move in together. You both shared the rent and took care of one another.

You didn't mind that...

Until Yuji kept trying to keep you in the apartment.

You wonder what went wrong. Yuji always seemed like such a kind and innocent boyfriend. Always easily excited and clingy with you. It was cute.

You wonder if things began to go wrong when Yuji had brought up marriage.

You still remember when he first brought up the question. You had been dating for around five years when he bounded up to you with a grin on his face. Before you could even ask him what he was so eager about, he held both of your hands tightly.

"We should get married! It's been long enough, hasn't it?"

It was cute how excited he sounded when he brought it up. In fact, if you were ready for it you might've even considered it. He looked so happy.

However, as a new graduate, you were too focused on improving as a Sorcerer to consider marriage with your high school sweetheart. Curses still ran rampant even after graduation. So at the time, you were focused on your career.

"I'm sorry, baby..." You had said, your heart nearly breaking at the look of betrayal on your boyfriend's face. "It just doesn't seem safe right now... we both have a career to keep up with."

"R-Right... I understand!" Yuji has responded with a saddened smile, embracing you tightly.

Back then... you thought that was that.

You wanted to consider marriage in the future. You two had been together for a long time now. Although... you just wanted to focus on more important things right now.

However... now six years in... you begin to wonder if you should've just... accepted or called off the relationship entirely.

"Baby..." Yuji frowns softly, looking at you on the bed. In only a year you looked so much different than the graduate you once were. You looked tired and much thinner now. Yuji had been feeding you, but you just... didn't want any food from him.

"Baby, please look at me..." Yuji tries again, inching closer to sit on the bed. He feels guilt creep into him when he sees you curled in on yourself. Part of him knew this was his fault... but hated the idea of acknowledging it.

Recently you've been escaping the apartment a lot. It had started with arguments, you wanting to continue being a Sorcerer while Yuji wanted you to stay at home so he could protect you. But... every couple has their quarrels, no?

That is until Yuji felt he should be more strict. He begged you not to leave, that he was worried about you and wanted you to stay home. At first, you complied and stayed home a few days to soothe your boyfriend's worries.

Then he stopped letting you out.

Each time you left the apartment by sabotaging locks or playing nice, Yuji would chase you down again. For months you kept trying to leave, both the relationship and apartment. Yet Yuji never relented.

In his eyes you are meant to be together...

Delusional just enough to ignore how you feel about the situation.

Right up until you were curled up in your room, refusing to leave because, well, why bother?

Yuji perks up when he sees your body shudder. A breathy noise akin to a sob leaves your mouth, making Yuji's heart clench. He acts fast, throwing himself on the bed and holding out his arms.

"You're crying... come a little closer, I'll make it all go away." Yuji's words are comforting, as though you're both still loving partners. His embrace feels hot and cagey against your skin. However, you lean in reluctantly.

Did you love him even now?

Yuji is careful to be caring despite all that's happened. He kisses the top of your head lovingly as you sob against him. Hearing you sad makes his grip tighten... a glare thrown towards the wall as he thinks to himself.

He hopes you get better, he really does. He wants to make you his cute little spouse that he can take care of. Although, Yuji is willing to wait until you're feeling... better before bringing it up again.

"Love you so much it hurts...." Yuji murmurs, squeezing you affectionately as he nuzzles into your hair. You say nothing, which is expected, you did recently go against his house rules again.

But... that's okay! Yuji is aware of how determined you are. He just... needs to be patient and protect you like he always has been.

You may be upset now... yet he knows that will change. With a little more waiting... you two can be happy again! When another sob rocks your body, Yuji just holds you tighter... oblivious to how crushing his embrace is.

Partners must stick by one another, right?

He'll stick by you until you're better... then you two can go back to normal and maybe even get engaged!

He's already picked out the ring....

[shaunamilfman]

Lucy MacLean x Wastelander R HC's

you start looking at her in a new light after she sets off a grenade that takes out a room full of enemies. you're so impressed with her that she doesn't have the heart to tell you that she just accidentally tripped into a row of shelves and knocked an old grenade on the floor. 

“you want the head?”/ Lucy, love-struck “i mean if you're offering.” a pause, thinking over what you just said and looking disappointed. ”wait– did you say the head?"

most shocked look ever watching you loot bodies. on her high horse talking about “stealing is wrong” till you agree and say you just won’t be able to have dinner that night then. suddenly she’s willing to make exceptions to her morals, go figure.

whenever she starts talking too much, you start describing the most horrific looking monsters you've fought. she's following silently behind you in horror for a good mile before she manages to shake that description off and starts talking just as eagerly again. the silence was nice while it lasted. 

Lucy pretends to not know how to do things so that you’ll teach it to her as an excuse to talk to you but takes it way too far. you’re like, “what do you mean you don’t know how to open a can?” while she looks visibly upset that you don’t wrap your arms around her to show her how like she’s seen in those pre-war movies.

uses your rations to try to tame herself a pet while you're camping for the night. you’re looking everywhere for your last box of sugar bombs only to find a shameless Lucy feeding it to the ugliest animal you’ve ever seen as she tries to entice it to do tricks. She insists that she doesn’t understand why you’re mad about it but you can’t help but notice she never uses her rations for it. you end up getting so mad that you can’t even speak to her, which turns out to be the most effective punishment you ever could have come up with. she’s sitting there and begging you to talk to her because she's going crazy without human interaction (it's been five minutes).

you’re surprised and a little sad to see that Lucy isn’t in the camp when you wake up the next morning but it’s fine. You don’t need her anyway, right? You try not to look relieved when she trudges in halfway through taking the camp down covered in soot and grime and collapses in her cot as she holds up a pristine box of sugar bombs she spent all night searching for.

Lucy sees you smile one (1) time and will not get over it. “you have such a pretty smile, you should really smile more. you know it really lights up your face and…” on and on for like ten minutes. The type to grab for your face to pull the sides of your lips up to make you smile. You’re still visibly frowning, just with your lips pulled up at the sides. Lucy’s so frustrated with you mostly because she realized you’re actually really nice to look at when you aren’t glaring at everything. 

Lucy would call you lover unironically. goes through a million different terms of endearment before finally deciding on that one. it was one of the least embarrassing ones that she suggested so you wearily let it happen. walking for miles with Lucy trying them out initially like "honey. baby. teddy bear. big teddy bear of death? murder bear? no, okay, got it. sweetie. babe…” 

pretending not to know about things Lucy is referencing to see how long it takes for her to realize you’re messing with her. she's talking about her book club and you’re like “book? what's a book?” and she’s spiraling trying to explain the concept of written word to you

no concept of flirting. give her your absolute best lines and she's like “haha… okay?”. got to be as blunt as possible. tell her you want to fuck and she's like “oh yeah, sure.”

[ratgrinders]

So I read this interview of Brennan Lee Mulligan post-Junior Year (really interesting btw, I recommend everyone check it out!!!!) but I wanted to talk about a couple questions that interested me in it regarding the Rat Grinders:

I love the Rat Grinders and how they're just this dichotomy...Talk to me about leaning into not just that they are the opposite of The Bad Kids, but their corruption, because they were really sweet as the High-Five Heroes before they followed Kipperlilly down this path. Brennan Lee Mulligan: There's an interesting question there. I think that for a lot of it, there were hints, and most of the things we've seen of their sweetness are contextual from bits of writing, little things, investigations. But I think that you can see… It's both. There are elements that they were not always like they are now, but the seeds of what they are now are there in the past. I think that when you look at the High-Five and then eventually becoming the Rat Grinders. There's an indication there of Kipperlilly's focus because yeah, the High-Five Heroes is sweet, but it's also sort of a indication that Kipperlilly is pushing them towards, for lack of a better word, do we have something that we're about? The Bad Kids get their name because they've all been given detention on the first day and it's connected to their story. Whereas you get the sense from the High-Five Heroes that it's not actually describing anything. It's like the person being like, "Our inside joke is going to be high-fives." And you're like, "Well, everyone high-fives." So there's an indication there, for me at least, that Kipperlily is trying to make a comradery right away that is not actually there. It's not based in something that happened to them.

So a confirmation that Kipperlilly naming them all the "High-Five Heroes" on the first day is her trying to "force" a sense of comradery, and also possibly an adventuring identity? Like how the Bad Kids already have this strong group cohesion and "story" because they were all given detention on the first day of classes, and Kipperlilly's trying to create something like that without it having a strong basis.

This seems indicative of a couple things to me, like Kipperlilly having a naturally strong, pushy personality that maybe overrides her other group members, or that she has a certain idea in her head about what makes an adventurer. She wants all the gimmicky stuff like a cool party name and inside jokes, but even then on the first day is trying to force it without having earned it. She's enamored with the idea of an adventurer in terms of them being the hero of their own story, and in her head how good of a "story" you have is directly linked to how good of an adventurer you are.

It also makes her opposing the name "Rat Grinders" later interesting, lol. Rat Grinders is obviously WAY more based in something unique to their party and an inside joke on what they actually do. Maybe it was just because she didn't appreciate her sense of control and her name being undermined.

How do you think they're going to diverge now that they don't have Kipperlilly leading them? Brennan Lee Mulligan: I think that the future of that group is very… I think I leave it to the players, but as you're saying with Kipperlilly, her leadership of that group to me, the moment that is the fundamental, very critical to the season and understanding it I think, is that killing of Lucy Frostblade. Where that is the moment where power and the opportunity for power is chosen over all else. The participation of everybody in that, that the other Rat Grinders came in and that they killed Lucy Frostblade, is the ultimate like, "Oh, we can understand wanting to have the status that The Bad Kids have. This was not worth that. It is not acceptable. Even if you really want to have something, you can't kill an innocent person who is also your best friend to get it. That is evil." And so I think that that's really the turning point for them.

And talking about Lucy being her best friend, and the killing of Lucy Frostblade as the point of no return. I imagine that after killing Lucy the Rat Grinders were deep in the sunk-cost fallacy, that "oh, we've just done this horrible thing, there's no turning back now". Like the text messages the Bad Kids found in Ruben's house.

Canon leaves it slightly unclear the order in which the Rat Grinders were shatter-starred, and just how culpable they are for their actions while under their influence. I'm going to assume that Kipperlilly was the first one, "willingly" taking one (for a given definition of "willingly", as I'd argue she had still be subjected to a year and a half of manipulation and grooming by Porter. She may have been sound of mind, but she never would've done this without Porter encouraging her or validating all her worst aspects). Then, she and Porter worked to kill the other Rat Grinders, an unwilling ritual that put them under the thrall of the rage god. Lucy was the last holdout, and was killed with the assumption that she would come back like they did, but she instead "stuck to her guns" and stayed dead.

I'm also going to interpret the shatter-star as an element of divine manipulation that drives people with rage to do actions they wouldn't do normally, but which are ultimately based on a kernel of truth. Think Adaine in the mall fight, "What would Adaine do if all she ever thought about was rage?" and Siobhan talking about the forest of Sylvaire being destroyed in the search for her mother. We know Adaine would never use such an excessive amount of destruction, but we see the underlying motivation to her actions.

So when the other Rat Grinders killed Lucy, they weren't exactly "sound of mind" as they were under the influence of the rage star, but they were still themselves, they still made the conscious choice to choose power over everything else. The rage star only elevated it to murderous heights; they never would've murdered her without its influence (in fact, I'd argue that the expectation she'd come back is why they did it in the first place), but the motivation still stemmed from a selfish want for power they all shared.

I think, too, that there's a thing with them, there's sort of a you can't have it both ways. The strategy that the Rat Grinders employ to get powerful is to do this grinding. Eventually, they get leveled up also by these powerful monsters that are being killed, they're allowed to join in with, but fundamentally it's like you can't have your cake and eat it too. Kipperlilly as a villain to me is very focused on, "Ooh, I can get by with the letter of the law and not the spirit. There's a better way to get powerful as an adventurer other than going on these important missions where you can probably die." That's the other thing, too, is you look at The Bad Kids, the Bad Kids run into that Corn Gremlin fight, and two of them die. They took a huge risk to save the school and stop something bad from happening, and the Rat Grinders never take that risk. So even as Kipperlilly is like, "Why aren't I getting what they're getting?" It's like, you're not making the choices they're making. Obviously grinding rats in the woods is a safer way to gain levels and the reward for doing it the safe way is you've never saved the world.

And with this last bit, Kipperlilly wanting the accolades of adventuring but without having to risk her life for it. It's interesting that Brennan mentions Kipperlilly avoiding "missions where you can probably die", because I've theorized before that part of the Rat Grinders' motivation for sticking to grinding is them not wanting to risk dying!

This is where genre conflict comes into play for me, because in a normal world I'd argue it's totally acceptable and fine for teenagers to do everything in their power to avoid Literally Dying. However, Spyre is not a normal world and runs on DnD conventions, where Aguefort trains them to be murderous "violent wanderers" who enact their will on the world, sometimes fatally. Death is also comparatively cheaper here when adventurers specifically have an easier time getting revived. The Rat Grinders may protest all they want about the standards of the genre that encourage crazy, violent, fatal behavior, but they're always going to be in the wrong genre and their protests are doomed to failure.

And "having your cake and eating it too". Her adventuring party never took those risks, so they don't get the rewards for saving the world.

[eruden-writes]

Choosing the Bear - Part 1 (Shifter x Human)

Inspired by the Man or Bear in the Woods question/meme.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

If you found yourself at night in a forest – somewhere that made bumfuck nowhere look like New York City – would you choose to be alone with a man or a bear?

Bambi Rose Barker was stuck in the middle of both answers. Literally.

She stood stock still, eyes wide, chest heaving and aching for air while her stomach lurched. Moments earlier – or maybe half an hour ago, she couldn’t tell – she had managed to escape her kidnapper’s cabin with the man hot at her heels. It had been a mad dash through the night, dressed in only a tank top and a pair of daisy duke shorts and choking down pain as her bare feet slammed over rocks, branches, and uneven terrain.

Luckily, a full moon cast light over the world, so Bambi wasn’t exactly stumbling without sight. Fumbling through the forest without shoes was still a bitch on the soles, but she simply gritted her teeth and continued forth.

When she caught sight of the bear a few yards ahead, her racing feet and thoughts froze. She couldn’t really be seeing a bear, right? Under the moonlight and swirling starlight, she squinted. But it was hard to deny that the bright white creature was anything but a bear.

Her adrenaline shifted from fleeing her pursuer as she slowed to calculating whether ursine or man was a larger threat.

Behind her, the man howled as he tromped through the mountainside forest, “Bambi, get back here! I just wanna talk things out!”

It wasn’t the first time she’d had a man chasing her with a shotgun. Growing up in the country, with little to do except get in trouble, Bambi and a group of friends often found themselves running off into the dark, being threatened by an angry elder with a shot gun.

The man tailing at her heels wasn’t crochety Mrs. Jenkins, who was more bark than actual bullet.

No, she was well-acquainted with Duke Walker. They’d grown up in the same town and known each other forever.

There was one key difference between Duke and the other men of Hartwell: his family owned the little town. By and large, he was better off than most people in Barfield and he got away with a whole helluva lot more than the average folk.

Which included stalking, as Bambi had learned over the last two years of their separation. He was about to add kidnapping and possibly murder to the list, as well.

But Duke was a human. A five-foot-eleven-inch human that might have a chance to be reasoned with.

Whereas the bear…

Well to start with, it looked about as tall as the Wicked Warrior from the Monster Truck Derby her pa used to take her to when she was a kid. Which had to be at least ten feet tall, though maybe kid Bambi was coloring her memories. It didn’t help that the bear looked to weigh just about as much as the Wicked Warrior to boot.

To end with, judging from the size and coloration, it looked like a polar bear. As in one of the few creatures that actually saw humans as a viable snack.

While Bambi hadn’t been an ace at high school geography, she was pretty damn sure the Appalachian Mountains were too far south for a polar bear.

Confusion warred with uncertainty, keeping her frozen in place as the bear lowered onto all four paws. A faint part of Bambi’s mind realized it had been rooting around in a tree and, a little hysterically, she wondered if polar bears ate honey.

Just as the bear lumbered closer to Bambi, Duke crashed through the brush behind her. The flaps of his flannel button-up, unbuttoned, flared behind him as his white tank top nearly glowed in the moonlight. “Christ, woman! I told you I just wanted ta’ talk and you gotta go and make a scene—“

Jolting, Bambi spun toward Duke. It would’ve been a lie if she didn’t take some satisfaction in watching awareness dawn on his as he finally saw the bear. He paled to a shade almost as white as the creature, gripping his gun tighter. She watched the knot in his throat bob, fear freezing him momentarily in place.

For some reason, seeing Duke like that sparked something inside Bambi. Balling her fists, she nodded toward the gun in his hands. “If you just wanna talk, Duke, why do you got a gun with you?”

Her words made Duke snap his attention back to her, eyes wide with horror and anger. “Now’s not the time for all that! Do you not see the hulking white beast behind you!?”

“I do, but it ain’t threatening me with a damn gun and it hasn’t been the one stalkin’ me for years and kidnapping me,” she spat back, though she very pointedly shifted so her back wasn’t to the bear or the man.

A chuff from the bear startled her attention back to it, her heart tripping in her chest. She glanced toward it, risking eye contact that could very well end her life. The bear’s head slightly tilted toward her, ears giving a twitch, but it didn’t growl or lift a lip in a snarl. Even without the signs of imminent danger, Bambi’s heart thrummed in her chest.

Albino, she thought. The white bear couldn’t be a polar bear, it had to be albino! But didn’t albino animals have red eyes? And no pigmentation in the rest of their body? She swallowed as her eyes dropped from the creature’s dark eyes to its black nose.

The cock of Duke’s rifle snagged Bambi’s attention back toward him. Finally, a growl burbled up from the bear and she heard it shift, could feel it rising up on its hind feet. Apprehension prickled over her body, finding Duke lining up a shot through the scope, lip curling as he snarled, “You need to back away from that damn thing! Don’t you got any sense?!”

A sudden surge of protectiveness overcame Bambi as she took a step closer to the armed man. “Duke Walker, put down the damned rifle! It wasn’t doing a thing before you started threatening it.”

“Don’t you Duke Walker me! It’s a—“

Before Duke could finish his retort, the huge bear crested the distance faster than Bambi would have guessed. Stunned, she couldn’t even shriek as the bear descended on Duke, huge paw arcing down to swipe at the rifle. She only heard the man give a startled cry before a loud, piercing gunshot rang out. With a clatter, the rifle went flying and Duke stumbled back, bloody gouge marks trickling down his arm and chest. Another growl warbled from the bear as it stood up straighter.

As Duke turned tail and sprinted back the way he came, the bear didn’t pursue. It merely stood, as if watching the man disappear into the woods.

And suddenly, Bambi realized she was alone with the hulking beast. As quick and quiet as she could, she began sidling away from the creature, mentally trying to determine which direction she should run to avoid Duke. However, the bear shifted toward her and she realized, with a start, that red blossomed along its fur.

Duke had shot it.

With a  groan, the bear lowered down to all four, its torso seemingly heaving.

Sense and compassion held Bambi locked in place, part of her wanting to check on the creature while the logical side of her told her to bolt. Besides the fact it could be a polar bear – there’s no fucking way it’s actually a polar bear, Bambi’s logical side snarked – it was injured, meaning it had both a hankering for human and was likely scared while in pain.

Before Bambi could decide what to do, a smaller figure crashed through the tangle of forest. “Dad! Dad! What’s goin’ on? Did you hear that gunshot?”

The little figure paused, eyes widening and voice softening with worry, “What happened to you?”

With a jolt, Bambi realized she recognized the voice. Squinting, she took a step closer. “Mercy? Mercy Clements?”

Startled, the girl turned toward Bambi as she hovered near the bear. The light of the moon caught her wide hazel eyes, casting them with a silver sheen. Like a fish, her mouth opened and closed, obviously trying to come up with something to say.

Wait, she’d said ‘dad’ thought Bambi. And then she had ran toward the bear, asking the creature what happened. Bambi’s gaze flicked from the bear to the girl and back to the bear, a perplexing suspicion taking root. There was no way to confuse a behemoth like that for a human, even in the dark.

“Zeke?” Bambi narrowed her eyes, focusing on the bear. There was no way the bear was Zeke Clements. There was no way the bear was anything other than a bear!

Something in the bear’s demeanor flinched – or so Bambi thought – and her denial wavered.

[thealogie]

my new pet theory after reading American/British cinematographer blurbs about all the previously mentioned examples is that it actually isn't one specific thing, it's the general commitment to allow imperfection and give an image a soul instead of following all the purely technical cinematography "rules" to a t.

like sure, you want something to be sharp, well lit, you want to have contrast instead of flatness, you want to compose something along thirds so it looks balanced to the human eye, you don't want everything to be super grainy etc etc but the thing is we've gotten to a technical point where it's very easy to do all of these things and when you do all of them at the same time it just looks soulless and terrible.

So what you can do to avoid that is:

Shoot on film (challengers)

Use vintage/exotic lenses (challengers, civil war)

Allow actors faces to go into darkness, allow imperfectly exposed images, allow black, crank up the ISO of the camera and use tiny amounts of light only (better call Saul)

Color grade in a genius way (add noise, grain, do things with saturation and contrast that aren't the technical standard)

Play with framing and what we're used to seeing as a balanced image (Mr robot)

Play with movement in unexpected ways, for example zooming or moving very rigidly (Wes Anderson). When handheld first became more of a mainstream thing it was so new and exciting as well!

Play with formats, colors (black and white), weird view angles (fish eye) and more.

If you're interested in cinematography even a little bit watch poor things. It does many of these things at the same time, incredibly well and in a way that actually supports the story too.

There's a cinematographer who says once he's done setting up a shot, having framed and lit it and thinking it is perfect, he always turns off one light. Or he kicks the camera a bit so the framing changes in an unexpected way. He says otherwise the perfection will suffocate the image. I think that might be what we're seeing with good omens.

I think franchises are more likely to fall into this rut of delivering a technically perfect product. Especially when there's a lot of vfx and post production down the pipeline there are so many factors a dp can easily get scared to not deliver what is needed in the next step. When something aggressively has to be sold to & by a streaming service like Amazon there is often pressure to take no risks. Comedy as a genre also has less examples of a wide range of different good cinematography styles. When I think of the word comedy the term "high-key" (aka well lit) comes up as we were taught in film school, according to the sit com standard. And modern day fantasy/magical realism comedy? I think is hard to pull off in a way that actually resonates and creates something new (not to say it couldn't have been done better sgdjdjs. looking at Gavin Finney's filmography I don't see anything particularly significant so...)

That's my two (three... five) cents. Thanks for the research rabbit hole on this Sunday evening 🫡

I love that this inspired a whole very nuanced and well researched essay on a Sunday. Thank you!!!

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Hii, i love your storys and i hope you could do a Casey Nowak one, were casey is older than the reader. Casey has her menopause and has not that much of a high sex drive anymore and other menopause symtomes. She is really scared that the reader will leaver her. They have to find a way to handel the "problem".

Hey, friend! Hope you enjoy! 💖 - illdowhatiwantthanks

Changes

Casey Novak x fem!reader Warnings: implied sex, discussions about sex, menopause, explicit language (please let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 1.4k

Summary: Something's wrong with Casey. You can tell. But she doesn't seem to want to talk about. You're worried you've done something wrong, but it turns out to be something neither of you have control over.

It was one of those days that should have been perfect. A light rain outside served as the perfect excuse for you and Casey to stay in bed all day. And, for the most part, that’s where you’d been. Besides a late brunch–pancakes eaten hot as you stood by the kitchen counter–you’d been lounging around. Casey had gotten a bit of work done, but her laptop sat abandoned on the nightstand now as you straddled her hips, lavishing her in long, slow kisses. You took your time with her; you had time to take today.

But there came a moment when you realized, even as aroused as you were, that Casey was no longer kissing you back, not really. You pulled back, looking at her curiously, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“You okay, love?” you asked.

Casey avoided your eyes. “Yeah. I’m sorry, honey, I’m just not feeling it today.”

“That’s okay,” you assured her, moving to lay beside her. And it was. It was always okay if Casey wasn’t feeling it. But you couldn’t help the aching in your lower stomach, the wetness pooling that you knew would probably not be taken care of today. And probably not tomorrow. The truth was, Casey hadn’t been feeling it much at all lately, which was odd for her. For the entirety of your relationship, over five years now, Casey had always had by far the highest sex drive of the two of you. But now, it was like a switch had been flipped.

Nevertheless, you tried your best to be loving and supportive, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing your face into the crook of her neck. But as soon as you did, Casey squirmed away, huffing.

“Y/N, just…don’t touch me right now, okay?!”

Her voice was rough, harsh, and you flinched. Casey sighed and covered her face with her hands, flushing deeply. You moved away, watching her with concern. Casey never yelled at you. And she always liked to be touched. So much so that you teased her about it. Something was wrong. And it had to have been something you did.

You wondered what it was. It must have been something bad for Casey to react like this. Casey was so direct, she didn’t let anything fester. So for her to avoid talking about it? You wracked your brain, going over the last weeks and months of your relationship, trying to figure out what you’d done to drive a wedge between the two of you.

You felt tears form in the corners of your eyes. This had never happened. Not with Casey. You talked things through. You worked things out. You left nothing unsaid or unspoken. You were suddenly terrified that something had ruptured, something that you wouldn’t be able to fix.

“I’m sorry, Casey,” you whispered, your voice shaky.

She turned quickly to look at you, her eyes wide with surprise and concern. “Oh, honey, for what?” she asked, wiping a loose tear from underneath your eye.

“I can tell something’s wrong,” you said, your voice quiet. “Did I do something? Did I hurt you?”

Casey exhaled heavily, a few of her own tears glistening in her eyes.

“It’s not you, sweetheart, it’s me,” she mumbled.

Your heart dropped all the way to your stomach. It’s not you, it’s me. That’s what people said before they left you.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“No!” Casey groaned and rubbed her temples, chuckling a little. “But you might want to break up with me after this.”

“Casey,” you pleaded. “Please talk to me. What the hell is going on!?”

She sniffled, a single tear dripping down the side of her face, and you grasped her fingers in yours.

“I haven’t had a period in three months.” She spoke quickly, as if afraid she might not get it all out.

Your hand shot to your mouth. “You’re pregnant!?”

Casey choked out something that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Y/N, I’m gay. How would that even happen!? I’m not pregnant.” She took a shaky breath. “I’m starting menopause.”

You were silent for a moment, watching as Casey squeezed her eyes shut, trying (and mostly failing) to suck the tears back into her eyes.

“Oh,” you said, when you finally spoke. And then felt like an absolute idiot that that’s what you led with. But this was new, and you weren’t really sure how to address it. You were years, maybe even decades, away from menopause yourself, but you wanted to do all you could to support Casey.

“Well, are you…” You stumbled through your words, as if tripping over rocks. “Do you feel… okay? How are you– God…” You covered your face with your hands. “I’m so sorry, love, I’m completely fucking this up.”

When you removed your hands from your face, you were shocked to see Casey shaking with sobs.

You surged toward her. “Hey,” you cooed, your voice heavy with emotion. Your hands stopped just before touching her. “Can I… Is it okay if I touch you?”

She nodded, shuddering, and you pulled her onto you so that she could rest her head on your chest and you could wrap your arms protectively around her, placing a flurry of kisses on the top of her head. When her tears had subsided and her breathing slowed, you carded your fingers through her hair, hoping the rhythm would help calm her.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” she said, her voice rough from crying. “You’re not doing anything wrong. I just… I’m hot as hell all the time, and I’m moody, and I’m dry as the fucking Sahara.”

“You are hot all the time,” you teased, resting your chin on her head.

She swatted at your arm. “This just…” Casey sniffled again, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “It’s not what you signed up for. I don’t want you to feel trapped.”

“Casey.” You sighed, caressing her cheek. “This is exactly what I signed up for.”

“No, it’s not. I’m basically an old lady.”

“Hey,” you said, tilting her chin up so she had to look at you. “I can assure you that you’re not an old lady. You know how I know?”

Casey shook her head.

“Because I don’t want to fuck old ladies.”

She rolled her eyes, but smiled a bit.

“Now when you’re actually an old lady, like a little meemaw, and we’re living in the retirement village, I’m sure then I’ll want to fuck old ladies because I’ll be old, too, and my tastes will have grown with me. But for now? No old ladies. Only MILFs.”

Casey giggled, and you smiled, glad to see your girl feeling like herself again.

“Okay,” she conceded, still a bit hesitant. “But you deserve sex if that’s what you want. And I… I don’t really want sex very much right now.”

You stared at her, eyebrows raised. “Come on, now, Counsellor, you work SVU. You know better than that. Nobody deserves sex. That’s not how it works. And I think you forget that I know my way around a vibrator.”

“Yeah, but–” You shushed her quickly with a finger pressed lightly on her lips.

“No buts. I love you, Case. Not because you’re great in bed. Although…” You shrugged. “I mean, you are. I love you because you’re you. That’s not gonna change.”

Casey sighed. “Okay,” she whispered, snaking her arms around you.

You sat like that for a few minutes, relieved to be on the same page again, to know what was wrong. And even though you might not be able to fix it, you could at least be there for her.

Casey finally spoke, her fingers playing lightly with the drawstring of your sweatpants. “If you wanted to try out the vibrator… Maybe I could watch?”

You shot up, staring at Casey as she smirked at you, desperately hoping she was serious. “Really?”

She nodded, propping herself up with her elbow. You launched yourself out of bed, full-on sprinting to the closet, where you kept all the toys. “Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” you breathed.

Casey laughed and called out, “You better not come too fast! That’s no fun for me.”

You grinned, poking out of the closet to point at her. “See? I told you! MILF.”

Casey shook her head playfully, relieved that you’d taken the news so well. And so, so happy that you were hers. As you rifled through the closet, you felt much the same.

[the-solitary-child]

Kipperlily Copperkettle analysis, this is a long one so click read more to read all of it.

Kipperlily Copperkettle. Halfling Rogue. 

The Model Minority.

Her parents work good jobs, respectable jobs. One of them is a realtor, they are charismatic and good with words and they work hard. Hard for their family, hard to keep things in order. The other works in bastion city, away from home and with the council of chosen. A noble job, one that is met with praise and awards. It is a good job, a respectable job for the greater good.

Her family is good. Her family is picture perfect, with two parents and a kid and a white picket fence.

She must be perfect, for her sake, for her parents sake. Halflings are kind. Halflings are sweet. They get along with everyone. They are peacemakers, so much so that humans and elves could come and take solace from them. Years of bloody history and violence brews in her veins, and she is supposed to be complicit and smile and act kind. She does so for her parents sake, with a slicked back ponytail and a perfect uniform and a smile too big, too unnerving.

I’m sure people tried to dissuade her, telling her that she wouldn't find more comfort in something different? Maybe a job as a clerk or a secretary, or an artificer so she could help build things for people. She has her mind set though, with her nails digging into her palms to control the bitter rage that boils in her as she is only ever underestimated. 

High school starts and it's supposed to be a new beginning. She will find her party, and she will make friends. And she does, sort of. The High Five heroes she calls them, setting herself up as the leader. She has to take control of everything. They don't really listen to her though. Oisin and Ivy are immediately their own little duo, as are Ruben and Lucy, although Lucy has made a point to include Kipperlily too, and Mary Ann just acts uninterested in everything thus far. She has to make sure everything is perfect. A fight happens during the first day of school. It results in two students death, and makes the principle commit murder suicide on both himself and the counselor in order to bring two students back. Maybe that's where it started, the jealousy and the burning hatred and the obsession. Maybe it started a little earlier that day, when Riz handed out his business cards, and Kipperlily took it. Saw his name, maybe even wanted to be friends at first. Maybe he was too busy with the case of missing penny luckstone, maybe he was too busy with the friends that seemed to care about him. Maybe Kipperlily was jealous that his party actually cared about him, whilst hers only tolerated her at best.

I think that's where it started. The jealousy, the obsession. Her anger got worse, nails digging into skin and drawing blood. She is just so angry. She has always been angry, rage and spite boiling in her blood. Her parents said she came into the world not crying but screaming, like existing in this very world hurt her. She studied him. She learnt everything about him as the year went on and she felt shame. Burning, red shame. She started seeing the new counselor in hopes of getting help. She knew this wasn't normal. She was just so angry and had nothing to do with all this rage and fury. So she talked about it, how she was jealous of him. How he got the perfect adventurers story, a dead dad and a party full of people who cared. Her parents were normal. They were perfect, blended in perfectly. They were kind and sweet and polite and possibly never home because they have busy jobs. Busy respectable jobs. They were respectable people and nothing more because the world would never allow them to be anything more.

One way or another, Porter hears of a halfling rogue with rage in her veins. One way or another he approaches her, tells her that he will help her. He sees her potential, he sees just how great she can be. Kipperlily believes him. She trains with him, learning from him, hooked on to every word of praise he gives her. She is special, she is meant for something great, this school is just unfair and hands out blatant favoritism and she has to stop it. 

Kipperlily takes the rage star, lets it fall into her chest and every petty grudge, jealousy and dislike simply turns to wrath and hatred. She gets her party to join her too, leveling them up with the help of porter and jace. She kills them. She stands over their bodies as rage stars are forced onto their chests. As their corpses are violated and they are brought back just as angry as she has always been. Kipperlily feels no guilt, this is what she is meant to do Porter tells her. She is meant to bring greatness.

Lucy is the only one who doesn't come back. That hurts her, in a way different to anything she has ever felt. Lucy always had her back, always had her side when the party was ganging up on her. Lucy was the only one who understood what it was like to be put down and underestimated. But..she stayed dead. She decided being dead was better than being with her. 

Kipperlily tries to move on but sorrow and rage just burn deep within her.

The rest is history. But one thing is clear, rage has always festered in the heart of Kipperlily, and when she tried to get help, when shame burned in her veins at how childish her rage and jealousy was, she was failed by the people she was supposed to trust. Her rage was used as a weapon, both against her and against others. She was told she would do great things, that she is special and her spite and jealousy was used in order to get her to do things had her teachers not failed her, maybe she wouldn't have done.

Kipperlily will forever have the blood of her friends, of her party members, on her hands. She will never get rid of that shame, it will stain her hands, it will stain her legacy. She is nothing more than a villain in the history books now, when in reality she was a teenage girl who was failed over, and over again. She was a teenage girl who felt rage, and felt ashamed of her rage because she was told she needed to be kind, complicit. A sweet halfling girl, something she never was and never will be. 

[redroomreflections]

Not Easily Broken Chapter 5

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha and Reader go through a tragic divorce

Masterlist | General Masterlist

5/10

Note: Yes, it's getting finished besties.

W/c: 7.4k (this was a bitch to edit just so you know!)

Rating: M (Minors DNI; angst, fluff, smut, heartbreak, heart fix? the best ending for them coming soon)

“And Mommy, I went to the park, we played on the swings. I went so high. Not even Mama could grab me.” Emma gestured with her hands somewhere beyond the camera. You smiled at the expression on her face as she described to you what her day was like. You were just returning home from the gym when you received a Facetime call from Natasha. You quickly answered it thinking it was an emergency. Nope. It was just Emma missing you. You could tell that time apart tore through her as the five-year-old tried to understand the current family dynamics. Not that it was easy for you to understand. Still, you listened to her tell stories just like she always did. Slightly out of breath and a lot of emotion. She held the phone in her shaky hands as she bounced around her bed. You’re not sure you could get her to sit down if you tried.

“You didn’t go that high,” Ryan’s ‘know-it-all’ tone surprised you. It was classic sibling bickering. Only this time you had a front-row seat. You could see Emma hold the camera in place as she frowned over at her brother.

“How do you know? You were over on the slides.” Emma said.

“I could still see,” Ryan climbed onto the bed to bounce with his sister. You could see his hair flopping in a corner of the frame. You wish they would just set you up somewhere you could see. Not that either of them was professional on the proper lighting and angles. All you could see was bouncing and their breathless bickering. Until there was a knock at the door, Emma bounced onto her bottom to look innocently at whoever interrupted their playtime.

“Okay, you two, time for bed,” Natasha said. She held onto the doorknob as she watched them deflate.

“We are still talking to Mommy,” Emma pouted. “Can we have just five more minutes?”

“Oh, you said that ten minutes ago.” Natasha matched her pout. “Say goodnight to Mommy.”

“Goodnight Mommy,” Emma said. She passed the phone to Ryan before stumping out of his bedroom and into her own. She was stopped in her tracks by Natasha as she scooped the little girl into her arms. She kissed along her cheeks, and forehead, before raising her a bit higher to press kisses against her belly. Emma’s laughter filled the room as Ryan watched them with his smile. You couldn’t help but feel that familiar loneliness resurfacing. You wanted to be there with them. You belong there with them.

“Mommy, are you coming to my game on Wednesday?” Ryan spoke over the giggles coming from Emma. They seemed to be further away now. Natasha was carrying her to her bedroom.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You promised. A promise you were ensuring you would keep.

“If we win, can we get ice cream?” Ryan smiled hopefully.

“I will get you three scoops no matter if you win or not.” You replied. At his smile, you felt a bit better. You wouldn’t let him down this time. There was silence as you both enjoyed each other’s virtual company. He crawled under the covers, somehow keeping the phone in his hold before he fixed the camera to show his face again. “Are you all warm and cozy?”

“Yeah,” Ryan nodded. He paused before speaking again. “I want you to come to stay with us again, Mommy. Then we could have another sleepover. Like we had in Florida.”

“I’d like that so much, Ryan.” You said sincerely. “I knew you liked those sleepovers.”

“Of course,” Ryan shrugged. “I like it when everyone is happy. It’s always fun.” He said in a way that made him seem so much older. He sounded bigger than his seven years of life. He was always worrying about everyone else’s feelings.

Natasha chose that moment to enter his room again. She stood by the doorway with her arms folded against her chest. She allowed Ryan to have his moment with you. As the oldest child, it was easy for him to step into the background and let Emma have her moments. You both were always reminding him that his feelings and interests mattered too.

Turns out neither of you had anything to say. He held the phone, clearly stalling his bedtime so that he could get a few more moments with you. Finally, Natasha intervened. You could tell she secretly wanted to talk with you too.

“Okay, tell Mommy goodnight,” Natasha instructed. She ambled over to his bed to hold out her hand.

“Goodnight, Mommy,” Ryan said lowly. He reluctantly passed the phone to Natasha before sliding further under the covers. He waited for his kiss goodnight before turning towards the wall. You could see Natasha turn off his bedroom light and close the door. She shuffled down the hallway, wisps of her hair flying freely in her messy bun, as she walked towards her bedroom. She settled onto her bed, crossing her legs before looking down at the camera.

“Hey you,” You smile. The lighting in the bedroom cast a warm glow against her skin. Her reading glasses sit perched on the top of her head as she leans back against the headboard. She doesn’t need them all the time but you figure she’s had a long day. She smiles lazily into the camera before returning your greeting. You mirror her position on the other side of town.

“Hi back,” She smiles.

“Do you need to be tucked in too?” You joke and she snorts.

“I haven’t needed to be tucked in in a long time, Romanoff,” The way she uses the last name for you causes your heart to flutter. If that were possible. Her voice is a bit raspier. A bit huskier. You scan her face and the top of her shoulders. She’s wearing a thin purple tank top. You can see the way her skin flushes at your heated gaze.

“So, about the no-sex thing?” You try. She raises a brow for you to continue. “Did that include phone sex?”

“Hmm?” Natasha pretends to take a moment to think.

“Because I think I would be able to stay awake for that,” You quip.

“Oh yeah?” Natasha asks. She moves to grab a pillow from your forgotten side of the bed. She props the phone up, fluffing the pillow for the correct angle, before laying on her side. “What did you have in mind?” The ball is in your court. She’s certainly entertaining you and your horniness. She props herself up on her elbow, cradling her head with her hand, as she looks at you expectantly.

“I think a nip slip wouldn’t be so bad,” You suggest. You’re not serious. Not 100% at least. It’s not like you haven’t had phone sex before. Back when she would have long missions, or you would be away on a business trip, you had taken to sending each other racy texts or faceless nudes. It’s how you kept things alive and “spicy”. Not that you ever needed it.

“You’re always so obsessed with my breasts,” Natasha comments. She doesn’t care all that much. She likes the attention. From you and only you.

“They’re nice breasts,” You shrug.

“What do I get out of this?” Natasha decides she’ll continue to play along. This is the least sexy amount of flirting you’ve done but it still manages to get a rise out of you. You like it this way. There’s no expectation to be something you’re not. There’s no expectation to get back to a flame that has long died down. At least for the time being. You’d rather not think about what that means.

“Um,” You bring your left hand to your chin. You pretend to think before grinning mischievously. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” Natasha laughs this time. She shakes her head before pulling at the strap of her top.

“You have yourself a deal,” Natasha says. She fingers along the strap, pulling it down from her arm teasingly. She bites her lip, watching the way your pupils dilate, as she finally removes the side. She sits up on her bottom. The anticipation is killing you as you wait for her to show you what you’ve been waiting for. Natasha pushes the other strap from her shoulder. She rolls her eyes as you settle further back into the pillows. Typical. Making her go first. Natasha raises her hands to push the shirt down her abdomen. More skin is exposed until you can see the top of her breasts. God, you wish she wouldn’t tease you.

The pink of her nipples takes you by surprise just before the screen goes black. You let out an audible sound of shock as you rise from the pillows. You tap the screen of your phone to see if you still have half a battery. Natasha’s phone has died. You thumb through the screen of your phone to get back to her name only for it to show up unavailable. You sigh in frustration. Maybe a shower will cool you off. You drop your phone onto the bed with a promise to text her back when you’re out. You needed to cool off.

The steam from the shower doesn’t seem to help you. You scrub your skin, relieving yourself of the day’s grime, as you think about Natasha. You miss her. You want her next to you. Not only for sex. It’s never been just sex for you. You want to feel her breathing against the back of your neck when she decides to be the big spoon. You want her too warm limbs pressed against your calves. You want her steady hand resting in the valley between your breasts. You want Natasha.

You get out of the shower feeling refreshed. You brush your teeth. The feeling of loneliness fills you once again. No one is here to lie with you. There’s no one here to wake up to. No one to keep the darkness in your mind away. You’re here all alone and you can’t help but think that you deserve it. You’re the culprit after all. You’re the one that tore apart your family. You’re the one that pushed everyone away in exchange for work. Everything comes down to you.

As you finish your skincare routine, you can’t help but wonder if things will change. Would you change? Your first counseling session is tomorrow and you want more than anything to work things out. Natasha is too great of a woman to pass up. She’s too much of your heart for you to throw away. Like you’ve been doing. You shut off your bathroom light and crawl back under the covers of your bed. It’s much too big to have for yourself.

You fumble around for the phone and tap the screen alive. There are four messages from Natasha. You swipe the unlock screen, using FACE ID to open it, as you tap the first message. “Sorry my phone died,” The message reads with an attachment.

It’s a series of pictures. The anticipation kills you as you wait for the HD versions to load. Your eyes almost pop out of your head as Natasha poses for the camera. Damn. If she ever wanted to quit her day job as a spy to become a photographer you would support her decision one thousand percent. Okay, you’re being a bit dramatic but these are good.

She’s on her side, in the same position as before, only this time she’s naked save for her panties. They’re a thin bit of silk with lace trim in the color black. You take in the whole picture. The way her left leg is bent just slightly, her left arm stretched across her breasts, as she lies faceless in the picture. She’s not showing anything but to you it is everything. Damn indeed.

You immediately swipe to the next wanting to see the other photos. This one is a bit more personal. Her lips are the highlight of this one. She’s closer to the camera, her mouth slightly open, as her tongue peeks from behind her perfectly white teeth. Only Natasha could make this pose sexy. She manages to make everything sexy. Your eyes trail down to find the tops of her breasts hidden once again as she poses.

You’re extremely thankful that while these are sexy, Natasha trusts you enough to send them to you. You know she’s put herself in a vulnerable position. She’s throwing herself out there and you can’t help but feel elated. The next picture makes you audibly gasp. The camera is positioned further down. Her nipple stands rosy and hard as she pinches it between her index finger and thumb. Her wrist lies against the breast cupping it as she balances the phone with the other hand. In the background, you can see the look of pleasure on her face. She’s sensitive. Her breasts have always been sensitive. Even to her touch.

You don’t realize your hand has traveled to the waistband of your underwear until you feel your wetness at the tip of your fingers. You miss her. You need her. You open your legs wider, as you skirt past your clit to dip your fingers inside your opening. There’s no need to get ready. She should be here right now. You imagine the way she would feel inside of you. You imagine the curl of your fingers is hers. You imagine that morning at the hotel and how she’d taken initiative.

Damn Natasha and her sexy pictures. You know she’s not expecting pictures back but you feel inclined to send them. You push the sports bra over your breast, balancing the phone in one hand, as you arch your back just so. You quickly snap the picture before sending another one showcasing the bump of your hand inside of your panties. You’re not sure you can wait for her to reply as you push another finger inside of yourself. You pump at an increasingly fast pace as you imagine it’s Natasha here in bed with you. You clench hard around your fingers at the thought of her body pressed against yours.

There’s a vibration from your phone just as you reach that spongey spot inside of yourself. You raise the phone to look through narrowed eyes. She’s calling again. You move a shaky thumb to the green phone button to answer it.

“Nat,” You whimper.

“You couldn’t wait for the phone to charge?” She says in a light scold. You shake your head no.

“Well, I want you to slow down.” Natasha begins. You whimper again at her voice as she husks. “Shh, I want to come with you.” She purrs. This prompts a gush of wetness as you force yourself to slow down. It’s rare for Natasha to take over in the bedroom and when she does it’s phenomenal. You don’t want to think about how long it’s been since you’ve truly been intimate. All you can think about is the chase of your current orgasm.

“Want you,” You whine.

“I know,” Natasha breathes. “Want you too.” Natasha fumbles with the camera as she flips onto her stomach. She props the phone up on the side of her again and for a second your fingers are still inside of you as you watch her. She’s naked this time as the sheets cover her from the waist down. You wish so badly that she would let it slip away. You watch as her left hand slips under the covers. She arches her back with her face pressed into the pillow.

She’s not. She won’t. She is.

You try to keep your eyes open as the moment overtakes you. Natasha’s lips fall open as she slides her fingers into herself. You can see the subtle movements of her hand under the covers and the outline of her perfectly rounded bottom. She lets out a choked noise as she adjusts to the fullness of her fingers.

“Nat, open your eyes,” You beg. Her thick lashes flutter open and you’re thrown by how dark her eyes are at the moment.

“I’m ‘supposed to be in charge.” She sputters as she ruts against her fingers.

“You’re doing such a good job of that, baby.” You encourage. “Tell me what you want me to do,” You say. Her brows knit together as she attempts to form words.

“I want to see you too,” She manages. You quickly push your panties from your body, moaning at the loss of your fingers, as you toss your pillows to the side. You prop up the phone to show off your body.

“G-good,” Natasha says.

“Now what?” You ask.

“I’m not gonna last,” Natasha swallows. “I want you to push inside of yourself. Gently.” You do as told. It’s much easier this time around. “Wanna hear you.” She mentions. She begins to rock her hips as she rides her fingers. You don’t hold back as you match her pace. The sight in front of you is too much as you watch Natasha hump against the covers. She doesn’t swallow her moans, though conscious of little ears, as she breathes. “Can’t wait to have you inside me.” She babbles. “Been so long.” She continues. “How does it feel, Zaya?” She questions as you pump your fingers faster. You can feel your hips jump at the thought of being inside Natasha again. “Zaya,” it’s such a sweet nickname despite how “dirty” you’re being. You manage to look at the phone again. Feeling your walls clench around your fingers as you watch Natasha rock against herself.

“So good,” You moan.

“When we fuck, I want you to use the big one,” Natasha confesses. You immediately know what she’s talking about. The strap-on. “Want to feel it inside me for a week.” Natasha arches her back more as her movements become frantic. Her hair is held by the tie draped over her shoulders and the pillow as she moves. “Want you to fill me.”

She still has it. Not that you expected her to just throw it away. She’s talking big game right now. Natasha has never been able to fully take that strap with ease no matter how much you’ve both tried. It’s bordering 8 inches. Not too big where it hurts but the girth is. The way it fills her. She likes the challenge and so do you.

“You still have it?” You ask through your thrusts.

“I tried to use it on myself,” She admits and you’re sure you’d died and gone to heaven. “Couldn’t come. Not without you.” She gasps. You can feel the arrival of your orgasm as Natasha tells you about her time with the strap. “Wouldn’t fit.” She shakes her head.

“Shit,” You whine as the last part of her statement sends you into your orgasm head first. You don’t know which way is up or down as your eyes snap shut. Your legs lock up and your back arches to an impossible level. From somewhere back down on earth you can hear Natasha’s moans as she climaxes. There’s a solid thirty seconds before the grip your body has on your fingers loosens. It’s another thirty seconds before you can relax your legs and pull out. When you finally do open your eyes to look over at the phone, Natasha’s green ones, are looking back at you lazily.

“Were you telling the truth?” You ask. She lifts her head giving you a satisfied smirk. “About the strap?”

“I was,” Natasha dares to blush. As confident as she is in bed, she always has that shyness that you find so endearing. “I tried but I couldn’t get it past the first three inches.” You believe her. It’s always taken some extensive foreplay and at least one orgasm for her to take it. Your mind flashes back to the time she insisted on riding you to the ends of the earth and back. Her form. Her stamina. Always a ten out of ten. Natasha can tell where your mind is going and she smirks again. “You need to sleep.”

“How can I when you’ve told me that?” You look at her incredulously.

“Well the faster you go to sleep, the quicker you get to see me.” She reminds you. The counseling session is in the morning. Right.

“You should have started with that,” You quip ignoring the nervousness of tomorrow. You watch as Natasha shifts, her hand still laid under her, and suddenly you’re made aware of something.

“Nat,” You ask and she hums in response as her eyes flutter closed. “Are you still inside of yourself?”

“Mhmm,” She nods sleepily. “Too sensitive to move,” She mumbles. Did she want to kill you?

“Baby, you need to get up and pee. Then we can sleep.” Her eyes snap open at your words. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep. I promise.” This time you mean it. Natasha nods again as she lifts her lower half to slowly remove her fingers from herself. She can’t help but whimper at the loss.

“You too,” She tilts her chin up. You rush to the bathroom to clean yourself up and wash your hands before returning to the bed. Natasha is much slower as she enters the frame again. She lies on her side again to face you.

“Y/n,” She says.

“Yes, Tasha?”

“Can you promise me something,” Her tone is more serious and she’s suddenly more awake than before. “If at any point you feel any of this is too much. You tell me.” Her gaze is piercing as she waits for you to respond. “Don’t let it fester. Don’t leave me in the dark. If we need to pause on whatever this is right now, we do. Don’t hide.”

You bite your lip. You hate that she even has to say this. Given your track record, you’re not surprised.

“I promise, baby.” You murmur. “I love you.” You say and Natasha smiles.

“I love you too.”

You can tell sleep is overtaking her now as she plugs the phone into its charger before leaving it against the pillow. You watch her for a bit longer than necessary as she slips into sleep so easily.

You wouldn’t mess this up. Not this time.

*********************************

One thing Natasha didn’t expect from her family when informing them that she would be attending couples counseling with you - was their reluctance. She sat in her car, her sunglasses pushed to the top of her head, as she listened to them talk through the speakers of her car. Her iPhone remained in the cupholder as she traced her fingers over the edges. She could hear the sound of a pin drop with how silent the other occupants on the phone were.

“Hello?” She asked attempting to hide the annoyance in her tone. She glanced around the parking lot of the office building. She’s been here for the better part of ten minutes. After dropping off the children at school she headed here. Part of it was to keep herself in check and talk with her family without the worry of traffic. Now she’s glad she did. There’s no sign of you just yet and she hopes you find a parking spot in time. She would hate to be late.

“It’s pretty packed for a Monday morning,” She muses to herself. She could feel the tension deep in her bones as she tried to calm herself.

“Yes, Natasha, we are still here.” It was Melina’s soft voice that spoke first. Natasha glanced towards the touchscreen radio of her car. She was currently on a three-way call with the Russian members of her family. The names Mama and Yelena in both English and Russian sat unmoving across the screen. “We are just surprised is all.”

Natasha imagined her holding up the phone to an ear as Alexei tried to hold in his thoughts.

“Surprised? We’re fucking shocked is what we are,” Yelena breathes. She doesn’t hold back. While Natasha appreciated her sister’s bluntness she didn’t find it helpful at this moment.

“Yelena,” Melina scolded her. There was an eye roll somewhere in there.

“What?” Yelena’s voice boomed through the speakers. “Just last year, Natasha came crying to us. Utterly fucking destroyed might I add. Telling us that her marriage was over. Y/n left her with their two kids to do who knows what with god knows who. We were left to pick up the pieces and you mean to tell me all of that was for nothing?”

Natasha listens to her family bicker about her relationship. She understands what Yelena is saying. She might be right on this one. As surprising as it may be, she has her reasons. There’s still a part of her that believes your relationship could work. Sue her for holding on to that.

“Yeah, what she said,” Alexei finally joined it. “I don’t forget. I would like to break her puny little arms still.”

Natasha’s brow raised in amusement as a smirk tugged at her lips. She didn’t think your arms were puny.

“Alexei, you’re not going to break my wife’s arms,” Natasha says drily.

“Wife?” Yelena comments at the same time that Melina scolds her husband in the background. “I can’t believe this.”

Natasha licks her lips in annoyance. If there’s one thing she could never do was stand up to her family. In the rare moments that she did, she would blow up. She doesn’t need that right now.

“I think what Natasha is saying is that she and y/n are willing to work on their mistakes,” Melina chooses her words carefully. “I do just like the rest of you that their split was terrible. We were all rooting for the both of you. I think if you two are going to make it work we support that. Even if we have our reservations.”

“Reservations?” Yelena asks incredulously. “I don’t have reservations. I’m pissed about it is what I am. I don’t think it’s a good idea to go back to someone who has shown time and time again how much she doesn’t care.” That’s the part that sends tiny knives through Natasha’s heart.

“Please,” She mutters but it’s loud enough for them to hear. “I know how you all feel. I know you’re still mad at her and part of me is too. That other part of me still wants so badly for this to work. I owe it to myself to see it through. I owe it to Ryan and Emma, too.” Just as she finishes there’s rapping on her window. She glances up to find you giving her a small wave. She raises a finger to tell you to wait and you give her a small smile before walking over to the front of the car. “I have to go but please keep an open mind. I need your support.”

“Of course, big girl,” Melina says easily. She hears a sound akin to whack and suddenly Alexei joins in. “I will.”

“Еле́на?” Natasha asks.

Yelena smacks her lip and Natasha can tell there’s another eye roll at the other end of the line.

“Okay fine,” She relents. “I can’t say that I won’t poison her drink if she tries something else.”

“I will hold you to that,” Natasha laughs. “I have to go but I love you all so much.” She says before rushing to hang up the phone. She doesn’t want to leave you waiting any longer. She presses the button to turn off her car as she quickly stuffs her phone inside of her pockets. Even after all this time, she refuses to carry a purse. She opens the door of the car, giving you another smile, before slamming it shut.

“Hey,” You say softly as she continues to walk until she’s standing right in front of you. The height difference is still so endearing. She looks up at you with a shy smile before stretching her neck to kiss you. It’s soft and so damn sweet. “Did you sleep well?”

“I slept fine,” Natasha pulls back.

“Good,” You respond. You take a look at the building to the side of you before turning back to her inquisitive eyes. “Ready to go and have our entire relationship picked apart?”

She nods. She’s been in therapy before. She knows what it entails. She can’t say she’s that big of a fan but she wants this to work. She needs this to work.

*********************

When you sit down on the couch of the therapist's office you don’t intentionally mean to sit so far apart. You’re not on opposite ends of the couch. Natasha is mere inches away from you. If needed you can reach out and touch her. You sit with a rigid posture and fidgety eyes. Natasha ever the calm one sits with her legs crossed and a relaxed form. You’re a bit jealous of the fact that she’s always able to play it so cool. You look around the room of the office to ground yourself. The therapist, Cheryl, sits across from you shuffling papers together before she can begin. You notice the plaques on the wall, framed in a deep brown shade, hung up with pride. The walls are painted soft gray with white trim. The couch is comfy, new, and a bit stiff. It hasn’t been sat on much as a testament to its recent purchase. You adjust in your seat to test this theory and Cheryl notices. She looks up at you with something sort of like a smile.

“Oh, the entire office just got new furniture last week,” She mentions. Finally, she folds the papers and flips to an open page in her pad. “Now I want to begin by getting to know you both a little bit. From your intake papers, I understand that you have been divorced for almost nine months now but you’re seeking reconciliation.” She glances up from her pad to confirm. You nod. She looks back down. “I want to know your origin story. How did Y/n and Natasha begin? Then we can go ahead into more detail.”

She waits patiently for either of you to start. You glance at Natasha and she gives you the okay to speak. You were fine going first.

“Natasha and I met almost twelve? Twelve years ago at Stark Tower.” You start looking to Natasha for confirmation. She gives a subtle nod. “I was recently appointed creative director working alongside Tony Stark. As you know she’s an Avenger. Initially, we didn’t have that much contact. I was simply there to take in what Tony wanted. Um, I think I was three months into the job before we officially met. Tony wanted to go over some of the marketing for his latest gadget. Usually, a creative director just oversees the project from end to finish. With Tony, it’s everything.” You talk with your hands and suddenly you’re a bit self-conscious about that. “We had lunch in his lounge and Natasha walked in. She introduced herself, didn’t say much, she left after that. It was so quick.”

“Was this the first time you saw her?”

“Yes,” You answer.

“It wasn’t the first time I saw her,” Natasha offers. “It was at least a week before that. She was on her phone at one of the luncheons Tony was having. She was talking to her mom or something of that sort. She was complaining about Tony even with him a few feet away. Something about that interested me. How unafraid she was of the consequences with him standing right there.”

Natasha stops to let you continue the story.

“I don’t know how it was for Natasha but I… I fell in love the moment she held out her hand for me to shake,” You admit. You lick your lips before starting again. “I wanted her in every way.” There’s no sense of lying. “So I spent more time at the office than working from home. I would ask Tony about her. I would hope that I would get a chance to see her more.”

“It was pretty much the same for me,” Natasha says. “I tried to be around more. Usually, I would, um, make myself scarce. Product of my childhood. I stayed out of the way. With Y/N, for some reason, I didn’t feel I had to do that.”

“Our first kiss was at one of Tony Stark’s many, many parties.” You describe. “It was in the kitchen and I remember feeling so happy. I was also a bit nervous. How could a woman like her ever want someone like me?”

“Someone like you?” Cheryl hangs on to your words. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” You shrug. “I wasn’t very put together. I was very open and brash and she was more collected. More grown-up. Like she had her entire life together.”

“And you didn’t? You were a young creative director,” Cherly mentions.

“I didn’t feel like it at the moment,” You say and she writes something down on her pad. “So, anyway, neither of us had been in a relationship where we were one hundred percent serious about the other person. Everything felt so right with Natasha. It felt easy. To love her. It happened so easily.”

“I feel that way too,” Natasha agrees.

“Sounds like a beautiful love story,” Cheryl drops her pen for just a second. “Do you always talk in tandem like that? Like finishing the story for each other.”

You and Natasha blink. You hadn’t noticed it. You guess that’s what eleven years together would do.

“I find it cute,” Cheryl assures you. “Now, you have two children together correct?” She glances at her notes. “Ryan and Emma?”

“Yes,” Natasha answers.

“Great,” She mutters to herself. “So, I have my notes here and I guess I would like to ask what do you think the problems are in your relationship?” At your look she rephrases. “I am wondering what caused you two to divorce in the first place?”

“Several things really,” You say.

“We grew apart,” Natasha begins. “I don’t want to play the blame game. It’s just that for the past few years, y/n has been tied up with work. A lot.”

You nod. That’s a given she would tell this. “I think for a while we were just skirting by on being busy. The both of us.” You emphasize. “We lead such busy lives that we, mainly me, spent more time putting effort into that instead of putting effort into our relationship. I felt that I couldn't make her happy. We were fighting more. I was miserable. I don’t want to speak for her but it just became too much at once.” Cheryl scribbles on her notepad.

“Natasha, do you agree with this?” Cheryl asks.

Natasha nods. “Yes.”

“So what I’m hearing is that somewhere your lives got so busy that at some point there was a disconnect?” Cheryl summarizes. “Is there something that you think initiated this change?”

“I think it was after we had kids,” You say reluctantly. “Suddenly, we were balancing our careers, our relationship, and then kids. It was like in every direction there was always something. It’s a lot to say you can successfully juggle all of those. Something which I struggling with.”

“I think…. I agree.” Natasha thinks. “To an extent. My job offers me a bit more time off. Though it’s not always all at once. Since I’m traveling so much it was easy to curate our lives around that.”

“And you travel for work too?” Cheryl directs her question to you.

“I do,” You confirm. “Not as much. Well, not now, anyway. I took a sabbatical.” Cheryl’s eyes widen as she writes it down. “It was my own choice. I felt that I was neglecting my family. I - when Natasha suggested counseling it was something I knew I had to do.”

“Why?” Cheryl’s curious tone is nonjudgemental.

“For the reason, I said before,” You shift. “I was spending way more time there than necessary.”

“Are those your words or someone else,” A noise catches in your throat and she clarifies. “I just want to make sure I’m understanding the bigger picture.”

“They’re both,” You say.

“It was a concern that came up,” Natasha says. “The constant working wasn’t a problem at first. At least, I think it wasn’t. When we were first dating it was easier. It was simple. We could take entire weekends off. We would plan dates. She would come to spend the night with me in the tower. It’s like she made time and put effort into our relationship.”

“Of course, marriage and just dating are two separate hurricanes, I like to say.” Cheryl agrees.

“Which is kind of my concern,” Natasha’s brow furrows. “That it was easier. I mean, I didn’t come with the expectation that everything would be, that’s not what I’m saying. I just…”

“Felt that marriage would work better for us than it did,” You finish. “Considering both of our pasts, issues with abandonment, intimacy, all of it. We put so much work into it until we didn’t. I think we both had these expectations.”

“What does that mean?”

“I think with us it was a sort of push and pull,” You say. You look to see if Natasha is still with you and for the most part, she is. “As easy as it was, I felt for a while that Natasha was emotionally unavailable in the beginning. Which we worked on. Obviously. Then with me, I was sort of guarded. I wanted to protect a lot of our relationship and what we had which just turned into unrealistic expectations for each other. Which prompted our first break up.” You both remember the heartbreak of that one. It was within the first few months of dating. You wanted to commit and Natasha didn’t. You already had her heart. Why did you need more?

“What are the expectations of your relationship?” Cheryl asks. “Are they realistic now versus that time?”

There’s a pause as both of you think of what to say.

“I expect stability, time, romance,” Natasha lists off. “I don’t think that’s too much to ask. Honesty.”

“Same,” You cross your legs. “I also expect patience and understanding,”

“What?” Natasha asks. “What part of me has not been either of those things?”

“I’m not saying you haven’t been, Tasha.” You assure her. “I’m just saying those are what I expect. It’s not a dig.”

“What if you felt that way, y/n?” Cheryl prompts. “Would you be willing, to be honest with Natasha and tell her that?”

“Yes, of course,” You say.

“And Natasha would you be honest with y/n if any of your expectations weren’t being met?”

“Yes,” Natasha says. You must have made a look as Cheryl catches it painting her Inkpen towards you.

“Y/n, do you not agree?”

“No, I,” You fumble. “I do to a certain degree. Natasha is just fine expressing her feelings. Often it's way after the fact. She lets things simmer for a while.”

“Natasha do you?”

“I do,” Natasha allows herself to show that insecurity. “It’s the way I was raised. Don’t show emotion and don’t bring up conflict. It’s, it’s nothing but I’m not how everyone thinks. Sure, I can put someone in their place but I can’t stand up for myself. That’s not the issue. The issue is not wanting there to be conflict when it’s quiet. I guess.”

“Y/n, how does that make you feel?” It’s a classic cliche therapist question.

“It kind of ticks me off,” You admit. “I want her to tell me things she’s felt beforehand. A lot of the times she says I leave her in the dark but I feel that way too.”

Cheryl writes something down again. She takes a bit longer to do it this time.

“So, from what we have discussed so far today, Natasha you feel unheard and maybe a bit neglected?” Cheryl tilts her head and Natasha gives a subtle nod. She’s right on the money. “And y/n, you are a bit unclear how you feel but you seem to be feeling like you’re stretched thin and struggling with how to make Natasha happy while also keeping your own identity?”

“You got it,” You say.

“Okay,” Cheryl says. “So, I know we don’t have a lot of time here. Just a couple more minutes. I want to ask you what are your goals for couples therapy?”

“I want one of our goals to be better communication,” You say first. “Then maybe better methods of handling whatever conflict there may be.”

“I second that,” Natasha folds her arms under her chest. “I also want to better understand our relationship and each other. I want us to find and talk about the root of our problems.”

“Those sound like very realistic expectations,” Cheryl makes a list on her notepad. “I have a couple more questions before I’ll let you go. My major one is are you having sex?”

There’s a sense of discomfort coming from both of you. Not because you’re embarrassed. You’re both very private people and you’re not exactly willing to talk about your sex life or lack thereof.

“No, kind of?” Natasha says. “We haven’t completely been together for sex in almost three years.”

“There have been some instances where we have been intimate but it’s not--”

“Very satisfactory?”

“Yes,” You shake your head. “We weren’t able to finish since we always seem to get interrupted. We uh, we both decided that we wouldn't have sex until we worked through some of our problems.”

“I hear a lot of couples say that,” Cheryl nods. “I think while it is a great feat there are many benefits of a healthy sexual relationship in couples. It can improve your self-confidence, it could be a way of showing someone how much you love them, a way to bond with your partner.”

“So you’re saying have more sex?”

“In so many words,” Cheryl sets down her pad. “I think if it’s a goal of yours not to have sex then that is perfectly fine. There are plenty of ways to also share in the intimacy of that without full-blown intercourse.” Like phone sex but you won’t bring that up to her.

“Like?”

“Kissing, simply touching each other, a bath together, dry humping,” Her bluntness almost has the two of you blushing. “Massages. Mutual Masturbation. The list is quite endless.” She stands from her chair and you follow her with your eyes. She grabs two sheets of paper and hands them to you both.

Your eyes scan over the sheet finding questions and blanks to be filled in. “The Relationship Assessment? It looks like homework.”

“That’s exactly what it is,” Cheryl gives a grin. “For therapy to work inside you must be doing the work out there. So this is the first assignment. Finish this and then find something to do that you both enjoy. Sexual or no sexual.”

“And we bring this back for our next session?” Natasha asks.

“Yes,” Cheryl glances over to the clock. “This time together is to relearn each other. Just as if you were dating again.”

You reach over to grab Natasha’s hand. She clasps yours while reading over the sheet again.

“Your time is up, I will see you next week.” Cheryl ends.

Guess you had work to do.

---> next part

[captain039]

PART 5 WASTELAND HEAT (REDONE)

Cooper Howard(The Ghoul) x reader 

Warnings: Violence, blood, gore, AOB dynamics, heat, oral F receiving, smut, swearing, fallout stuff, implied cousin incest, virgin reader, drug usage, needles, plus size reader, sexual assault

Previous part <-

The next time you wake up is worse. Whatever week long pre-heat your teacher was on about was wrong, it’s been a day max. You tremble every five seconds, the mess between your thighs makes you grimace, the pulsing need makes you whine. You’re not sure where the alpha went, not even sure if he stayed to be honest. You were struggling with this sad excuse of a nest, you’ve thrown a few purified water cans in anger by accident by how pitiful your sleeping station was. You cried a few times over it, moved to the other corner and stared at it in anger hoping it’d go up in flames.

A knock comes and you jump from your spot at the other corner away from your nest.

“Omega?” The alpha calls and you glare at the door.

“I have a damn name!” You snap before realising you yelled at an alpha. He laughs though, lets out a small chuckle and you feel yourself relax a bit.

“You best stop throwing them cans” he says voice a little annoyed and your glare returns.

“You try being in here!” You snarl at him kicking the cupboard for emphasis only to wince at the pain flaring through your toes.

“You try not having enough things to make a good nest with!” The words sound silly as soon as they leave your mouth and you feel like crying again. No where in this room was there any repellents.

“Go away!” You end up saying in your over emotional state, wishing you could either bash your head against a wall or magically teleport home. The other option going through your mind is to let the alpha in and have his way, it’s been a constant thought in your brain, it makes your thighs clench together in need. You hear shuffling outside, things being placed before a note is slipped under and footsteps leave. You frown grabbing the note seeing the word supplies on there. You wait a few minutes hoping he’s truely gone from the doorway and slowly move the gurney away from the door. You open it slowly catching his scent but he’s not nearby. You see more food and water, what you don’t expect though is blankets, foam coverings, couch padding too. Your lower lip trembles and you grab the items he’s supplied and go back to your nest. You forget the door, forget the food and water you make a semi appropriate looking nest and sag in relief when you’re finished. You forget to close the door but it allows you to hear the voices outside, ones that aren’t your alpha. You tense as they speak something about it being illegal to kill a business. What sort of business was this? Organ harvester? Surely that wasn’t legal. Too caught up in your mind you don’t hear the approaching steps before it’s too late. Someone whistles and makes you jolt, you hear grunting and snarling outside as the man in a sheriffs outfit stared at you with a wide grin smirk.

“Boss’ll be happy bout this” he says as two more men join him. Despite jolting up and going for the gurney to ram into them it does very little, one wraps his arms around your arms and middle, caging you against him and it sets your body on high alert. He feels wrong, feels gross against your skin as you thrash and struggle.

“Keeping this for later ghoul?” The man in the sheriffs outfit asks. They’ve got him tied up a piece of cloth tied around his jaw and mouth hands tied behind his back. He’s got a crazy look in his eyes as he sees you before he’s death glaring the man in the sheriffs suit. You’re dragged along by the sheriff, exposed in a white singlet and black tight shorts, no shoes or boots. Your feet are killing you, you think there’s cuts and bruises now on them. You struggle to walk, struggle to do anything with your heat hitting you fully now. You walk for hours before you finally see a building a head and hope that’s where you’re going. You always try to glance back at the tied up alpha, but you get pushed over if you do.

You finally arrive at the place, being forced on your knees between two men while the alpha is forced to sit down in front of the stranger.

“Two gifts” the man laughs as the man in the sheriffs outfit takes off the alphas bindings. He sits perfectly still and calmly making you more nervous.

“Never seen one so fresh and untainted” the stranger eyes you, licking his lips like you were jello cake.

“Now ghoul, says here you’re wanted” he laughs and slides across a piece of paper. Ghoul, you didn’t know what it was, was it his name? What he was? It didn’t sound very pleasing.

“For?” Alpha asks leaning back in the chair.

“For the helping of getting the bounty to where it needed to go and not eliminating it” the man shrugs following with a causal lean back.

“Hm” is all he replies.

“See now, I was tryna get the head” you see him shift ever so slightly, hand on his gun subtly and you suck in a breath.

“But thou shall get side tracked by bullshit every time” he mutters before shots ring off. It’s like a slo-mo the man behind the desk is dead, head blown off and then the sheriff behind him, before the two standing by you go to rush him full force only to end with holes on there chests. You don’t move afraid to move, afraid to open your eyes till a hand smooths your hair and your alpha cuts your ropes. You rub your hands together and sigh a bit finding your legs numb and not moving. You see him kneel by you, glove hand brushing your cheek, making you look at him. You blink too slowly, you are achey and needy at once.

“Legs not working?” He cocks his head to the side and you look away cheeks a flame. You try not to breathe while he’s this close. You’re surprised by how much restraint he has too, from what your teacher said natural born alphas turn into mindless, rut mind filled, beasts according to her.

“I’m fine” you mumble having to take a small breath and regretting it. You bite your tongue so you don’t make a sound and force your legs to move. You don’t get far, the cuts and burns on your feet making you stumble back to the ground and you lean your head against the wall.

“Just leave me here” you mumble glancing at the dead bodies before closing your eyes. Damn it you wished he’d get out of your breathing space.

“Fraid I won’t do that” he says and you look to him.

“You wanted the head sure you can chase after my sister” why were you being so annoyed and pushy? You glance to your pip boy seeing the flashing image of vault tech bobble head moving slowly. You feel a gloved hand on your face again and you’re forced to look at him, face inches from yours. His pupils are blown, his mouth slightly open eyebrows narrowed down. He growls letting your chin go and lifting you up with surprising ease. You cling to him not wanting to fall arms around his neck as he carry’s you up the stairs.

“Put me down- what-“ you stutter out words as he kicks open a few doors, grunting annoyed before kicking the last one open. He smirks in victory and you see the double bed there. You almost sigh in relief at the look of a real bed, he lays you down on it and you sigh instantly turning to your side and curling in on yourself, head on the comforting pillow. It smells like the beta downstairs though and you huff slightly. You think he’s gonna leave, but he kicks the door shut and locks it before pushing the dresser in front of it. He opens one of the other door and you see a bathroom in there which he hums too. You watch him like hawk would, unsure of what he’s doing locking himself in a room with an omega in full blown heat. He checks the windows, closes the curtains before he’s kicking off his shoes, tugging off his gun belt and bandolier and chucking them on a near by chair.

“I don’t-“ you don’t understand what he’s doing. Before he’s crawling on the bed and over you staring down at you intently after he slips his hat off.

“You’re mine” his voice is low and breathy making you tense and gulp. You nod without thought unsure of what it means. He coaxes you with a hand to lie on your back and you do avoiding your legs touching his. He’s on his hands and knees above you, duster coat drooping off his sides. He watches you and you watch him intently breathing a little heavily through your nose. He leans down carefully slowly, before his lips ghost over your neck. The fan of breath makes you shudder and open your mouth to breathe properly you hear him inhale deeply before sighing out loudly. You tilt your head to the side hands gripping the sheets under you. He hums approvingly and it makes your stomach clench before lips are pressed against your pulse point.

“200 goddamn years” he mutters sucking harshly on the spot he just kissed and you frown a little at his words.

It’s sickly sweet her scent, like apple pie and ice cream on a Saturday night mixed with whiskey. Her skins smooth all over from what he can see, exposed legs and arms, neck and collar bone. It’s been dizzying the past goddamn days as soon as she charged at him and struggled on top he knew what was happening. Could smell the change in her scent, feel her body heat way more. You’ve never been in heat, he can tell, with Barb she’d always been prepared and less chaotic than this. You’ve probably been forced not to have one, forced into their little fucked up experiments, it makes him growl at the thought and makes you whimper in response. He’s quick to hush you, enjoying the way he can feel your pulse hammering against his tongue, the way your sweat tastes better than any liquor or meds he’s ever had. He wants to bite, wants to sink his teeth in as you cum around his knot like a good little omega. The thought makes him hard as a rock but he can’t yet. You’ve never been touched and he doesn’t want to hurt you, he never meant to hurt you. He hates himself every hour for how he hit you with his gun and lassoed you. Hates that as soon as he smelt you in Filly he’d been set a stray from the bounty, now on his own personal bounty to have you. Course you didn’t even know what or who he was, he never spilled his name or nature till the bastards down stairs did. He saw red the whole time they were walking, your scent hitting him harder when you were being dragged out front then forced on your knees. He would’ve killed them sooner if he didn’t keep his wits, would’ve probably used tooth and nail to tear them apart. His gloved hand eases to caress your side while the other holds him up, he can feel you radiating with warmth from here. He forces your legs open as he shuffled and moves knees between your legs before kissing up your neck and jaw. You’ve got a lust filled glaze in your eyes and he smirks at the red flush of your cheeks, the way your mouth is slightly parted from a little foreplay. It’s been 200 years since he’s felt like this, he misses it. With barb it was sickly sweet but not the nice sickly sweet, the kind that keeps you up at night. Barb wasn’t his, despite having Janey he never claimed her, they’d argue over it every night before he’d end it with mindless sex and hope it’d be ok.

He presses his lips to yours a little harshly, he doesn’t know any better and you moan into him. It’s teeth and lips with him, but you take it he knows you can. Your hands finally leave the bed and grip him, you don’t know where to hold so you just hold his shirt tightly. He feels bad and wrong about doing this but he needs it, he needs it more than anything.

“Alpha” it slips from your lips to his and his whole body alights. He stalls for a little bit before crashing his lips back to yours, he lays his lower half down, pressing himself into you and you whine. He needs you to know his name, you need to know but it doesn’t come no matter how hard he kisses you. Your hands move from his shirt to his face stopping the kiss, your panting lips red and swollen, face beautiful flushed. He falters feeling your warm hands against his leather scarred face, he won’t ever admit it but he’s scared to look in a mirror, afraid to see what he’s truely become. Sometimes he swore your not blood sister figured him out, her intense stare offs with him. He doesn’t understand gently as he goes to kiss you again but you move your head back. He frowns at you watching your eyes dance over his face, feels your fingers go over every grove and dip of his face, you trace his cheeks, around his eyes, his forehead, jaw, over his lips too. He finds that his eyes close mind slipping to a past life of when Barb used to run her hands over his face, usually fussing about makeup or hair. Never this gently though, it’d never be this gentle.

“Cooper” he mutters waiting a moment before opening your eyes, you’re frowning slightly before muttering his name with a small smile and he forces his lips back to yours.

[luna-andra]

The Shadows Return | Simon 'Ghost' Riley x OC | Retired AU | Is It Really You?*

Summary: A little 🍃 Andra stargazing with Ghost

Word Count: ~1.8k

If you're new to this story, you can read Chapter 1 here. Filler chapters are marked with an * sign.

Content: accidental high (hehe), fluff, wee little lore drop

Author's note: This one is a itty bitty filler chapter that the little writing goblin in my brain told me to create at like 2a 🥴 enjoy and stay tuned cuz next chapter is gonna be beefy!

ALSO I made a little playlist of the songs they were listening to if anyone cares 😂

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLsvQwF6FNtSzXEjTpFX6zxpH2nsdbuN0G&si=cfNPy4NgRSjRIx9T

“It’s in my glove box!” Johnny hollered from under the kitchen sink as Andra stomped through the living room.

“I heard you!” she yelled back, earning her some disgruntled Scottish noises. She was in a sour mood from Johnny helping himself to her last sparkling water. Usually, it wouldn’t be a big deal, she’s told the boys to take anything they want all the time, but she specifically told Johnny ‘not the Bubbly.’

He took the Bubbly.

Karma made its way back to him when he decided to tag along with Ghost to come help with her clogged sink. He was stuck with having to do the job considering Ghost’s wide shoulders kept him from being able to fit underneath the tight space. Drink the one thing off limits? Enjoy the clogged sink.

Receipts and an empty protein shaker fell out as soon as she opened the passenger door to his truck. “Pinche basura…” Andra picked up the shaker and chucked it back in and shoved the receipts in her pocket to toss when she went back inside. The glove box wasn’t any better, but she managed to find the adjustable wrench he needed.

A plastic bag with an array of colorful gummy bears sat in the cupholder of the center console, and it caught her eye. She fisted a handful of the candy with a snicker before closing his truck up with the wrench in hand. Johnny won’t miss a few gummies, she thought.

She popped a few in her mouth as she strolled in, her nose and mouth scrunched at the taste. Sugar free, gross. “Here,” she kicked his boot to catch his attention.

Johnny reached a hand out and took it from her without breaking focus.

Her other hand reached into the receipt-full pocket and threw them in the bin. “You gotta clean out your truck, an avalanche of trash fell out when I opened the door.”

“You offerin’?” Johnny scoffed. “I’m a wee bit busy fixin’ yer sink.”

Andra snorted. “If Ghost can keep his truck clean, so can you.”

“Pissin’ blight, the two of you…” Johnny growled as he struggled to loosen up the pipe.

She continued chewing on another gummy, regretting that she took so many. “I know, it’s a pain in the neck sharing parental responsibilities with Ghost at your grown age.” Her face grimaced at the taste of the gummies once more. “These gummies are ass.”

Johnny grunted as metal clinked on metal, followed by the sound of water hitting the bottom of a bucket. “Which ones?”

Andra swallowed the last bitter gummy she had. “I got them from your truck.”

“You what – agh, shite!” He cursed as he bumped his head while trying to pull himself up from under the sink. “How many did you have?”

Her shoulders shrugged. “Five or six, maybe?”

“Ghost is gonna skin me.”

-----

Ghost couldn’t leave Johnny alone to handle a clogged sink for more than an hour without getting a message talking about ‘It’s not my fault’. Luckily, he was already on his way back with takeaway and a fresh new six pack of that water Andra likes.

He was relieved to see the house wasn’t flooded, but found the front door open with just the mesh, screen frame keeping the bugs out. His hands were full with the bags, so he used his index finger to pull the screen door open and found Andra laying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling with an open bag of crisps laying on her stomach.

Ghost set down the plastic bags on the coffee table and stepped up to the edge of the couch. “You alright, doll?”

A wide smile spread across her face. “I can’t feel my face, and I see Gilbert Gottfried on the ceiling.”

Johnny rushed to the living room, a guilty look in his sapphire eyes. “Before you wallop me –”

“What happened?” Ghost demanded.

“Andra mistook my edibles for normal gummy bears and helped herself.” He slowly flinched away with every word he said.

A giggle came from the woman that barely took up the length of the couch. “Had to collect the Andra tax for stealin’ my water.” Her southern lilt came out for a moment.

“Christ alive, Johnny.” Ghost oughta grab him by the collar of his shirt and kick him in the ass, leaving him out on the front porch. He was more concerned with Andra to follow up on his promise. Ghost helped her sit upright, taking one hand and supporting her back with the other and set the crisps on the table behind him. “Look at me, sweetheart.” His mitt-sized hands cradled her face between one another.

Her pupils were blown out dilated, the honey brown eclipsed by the void. She giggled once more, her lids barely staying open. “Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.”

Ghost scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. “What’s that about?”

“My heart beating faster when you hold me like that.” He couldn’t help himself from grinning at that, and he pulled his hands away from her. “I can feel my nose throbbing.”

“I thought you said you can’t feel your face.” He retorted.

Her smile dropped as her cheeks turned pink. “Then it’s not my nose throbbing.”

“Screamin’ Jesus.” Johnny groaned. “I’ll go unpack the takeaway –”

Ghost shot him a daggered glare when Johnny reached for the plastic bag holding the food. “Keep your recreational substances out of sight next time.”

Johnny disappeared to the kitchen, mumbling something under his breath about how she shouldn’t be taking things that aren’t hers.

Rich coming from him.

“I’ll crack you open one of those waters and bring you your food.” Ghost pushed himself up onto his feet. “You feel like eating?”

Andra slumped against the couch, her lower lip tutted out for a pout. “Can we eat here? I don’t want to get up.”

“Of course.”

-----

With Andra still high as a kite after a few hours, Ghost made sure to check her pulse every now and then to make sure it wasn’t too elevated. He smacked Johnny upside the head when he told Ghost what dose of THC was in each candy.

Andra didn’t seem like the kind of person to eat edibles every now and then, or even ever. He was impressed with how she handled the effects. He expected her to panic at some point in the evening, but the worst she ever did was separate the ingredients in her shrimp fried rice and ate them all separate.

“Why are you even taking edibles, Johnny?” Ghost asked as he grabbed a water bottle from the fridge.

Johnny answered as he continued to wipe up the kitchen floor. “Helps me sleep, and sometimes I just wannae enjoy the high.”

It wasn’t Ghost’s thing, alcohol was hardly a substance he would have once in a blue moon. That was a different story a couple of years ago, but he decided to call the weekend drinks quits after getting into yelling matches with Johnny a few too many times. And then stopped drinking by himself at home after Price’s detox treatment.

“Where’s the Spotify app?” Andra said out loud in the living room. Ghost found her scrolling through the apps on the large screen in her hand.

Ghost leaned against the doorway. “That’s my phone, doll.”

“Thaaat makes sense.” She made no effort to give back the phone that didn’t belong to her. He could see her downloading Spotify and logging in with her own credentials, and he had no reservations about her being on his device.

Andra stood up from the couch and made her way out the front door. “Come look at the sky with me, I wanna see the stars.”

Ghost stuffed his water bottle in one of the pockets on his cargo pants and went to retrieve a blanket from the hallway closet. He met Andra outside where she was already laying supine on the bed of his truck, leaving the rear gate hung open.

“Let me put this down.” He offered.

Andra sat up and scooted herself to the edge of the trunk while Ghost wrung out the king size blanket and laid it over the hard bed of the truck. She returned to her spot and Ghost followed in suit, lying beside her with his arms behind his head. The temps were dropping, but Andra was unbothered by the chilly air. Ghost enjoyed this kind of weather, cold without a trace of humidity.

“I’m gonna head out now.” Johnny announced as he opened the door to his truck. “The sink is good to go.”

“Thank youuu.” Andra beamed. “Drive safe.”

Johnny’s tires crunched on gravel until it was out of earshot, leaving Andra and Ghost laying beneath the evening sky.

Music was playing at a tolerable volume from his phone on top of the metal toolbox above their heads, coexisting with the sound of chirping insects off in the distance. The sky blushed pink and orange hues off on the horizon; it wouldn’t be long before the sky went dark.

“When I first moved out here,” Andra started, “I would come out here and lay under the stars. Out here, I can see so much more than when I was in the city. I’ve traveled out of the city every now and then when I lived in the states, but it was never like this.”

Ghost hummed in agreement. He’s spent countless nights sleeping under the stars, nights where he could see even more than now. It felt like he was looking at galaxies, so vibrant it was as if he could reach out to caress the constellation’s translucent veils.

Andra turned her head to Ghost, and he glanced in her direction. “Tell me a story.”

He rolled his lips as he thought of one. “When I was out in Urzikstan in 2019, I had gotten lost with my squad in the sand dunes one night. One of the locals a few days prior to this told us not to follow the north star if we ever got lost, the desert played tricks on its victims and send them in circles until dehydration or the steep temperature drop would take them.

“The local told us ‘Follow the Andromeda constellation, she won’t betray you’. She didn’t, and we found our way back with the rest of our company.”

Ghost was about to point up to the sky when Andra beat him to it, aiming directly to where the formation of stars that comprised the Andromeda. “That’s the constellation I was named after,” she giggled to herself, “That’s so wild.”

Ghost lifted his head and looked at her.

“My dad named me Andromeda, and my youngest brother Orion. He was kind of into space stuff if you couldn’t tell.”

Ghost chuffed. “You don’t say." The warmth of her hand was electrifying, but he didn’t pull away. She just let her hand rest over his, each digit laying over his. Ghost returned his gaze to the twinkling stars of Andromeda. His fingers interlaced with hers, holding a piece of his own constellation that brought him here in this moment.

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