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kaznejis · 26 days

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We're hanging on by a heartbeat- Erik Lehnsherr x Reader

“You’re bringing Hank, right?” She gritted her teeth, a blush tinging her cheeks as she avoided eye contact, “Yes… not in that way though.” “I need to borrow him.” “What-” She looked confused at first, but then something clicked; mirth creasing at her eyes and twisting her lips as she cocked her head at you, “Y/N! You want to make Erik jealous.”

A/N: Thanks for all of the support on my fics!!! every comment, like, reblog and read is GREATLY appreciated. So, enjoy this fun little oneshot I found in my drafts. :)

Word Count: 5,250 / Read it on AO3!

“He’s gonna be there, Y/N,” Raven sighed, swirling her champagne glass as she pursed her lips at you, “Charles practically demanded that he be there despite his refusals, I think he promised him that he’d get you to speak to him.” She accompanied the last words with exaggerated air quotes.

“Mhm,” You grumbled, fiddling with your outfit in the mirror, “And that means, you are not allowed to leave me unattended. At any point.”

“Y/N..”

“Nope,” Turning towards her, splayed out on a chaise in her human form; a gorgeous dress accentuating her figure and her blonde hair flowing down her back in waves; you simply shook your head, face stern as you spoke. “I’m not going down that path again, I’m done with his idiocy.”

“But… what does that have to do with being left unattended?” A smirk curled at the corners of her lipstick stained lips. You glared right back at her.

“Because, I can’t-” You exhaled heavily through your nose, clearing the nerves from your chest at the mere thought of speaking to him, “If I speak to him, I will just embarrass myself- he, obviously, does not feel the same way as I feel for him.”

Raven just sighed, visibly sick of you and Erik’s antics. Behind the guise of being best friends; you and Erik had been playing an erratic, immoral game of cat and mouse, each interaction felt like a step closer to admitting your feelings for him, but then, a subsequent step back at the very same time. He was complicated, to say the least, plagued by the traumas of his past and present. Plagued by the responsibility that he wielded upon his shoulders as a powerful mutant, the expectation of moral compassion; and, the sordid reality of his beliefs.

You supported him, wholeheartedly, every step of the way. Your own chaotic mutant gene infecting your ability to appear as a normal human being; the green at your irises and the vines that intertwine upon your fingertips only causing fear, despite your god-given purpose being to allow growth. Maybe that’s why the two of you had gotten along so well; both of your powers allow you each to manipulate the foundations of the Earth itself- the ability to shift infrastructure and take lives at the merest of thoughts, at the slightest of movements. the hypothetical extent of what you could do rendered you outcasts, even if you had no desire to inflict pain upon others, they awaited with bated breaths until you would do so.

Whilst Erik had initially viewed his residence within the school as a prison, you had seen it as a safe haven. The lush meadows and ancient trees that adorned the acres of land called to you, allowing for days spent barefoot amongst the reeds, with only birdsong to accompany you. Erik had paid you little mind at first- having only allowed you fleeting glances at dinner, a nod of the head if he agreed with a point, a slither of a smirk when you amused him. But, soon, he let you in; allowed you into the fortress of his conscience, allowed you to peel back the layers of his anger, and understood his desires for vengeance. You had balanced him out, balanced out the choke of his dark turtlenecks with the flow of your hair; balanced out the harshness of his metal with the brush of petal stems upon your fingertips.

As your friendship had developed naturally, your feelings had followed. Abrasive, corrosive feelings. Soon enough, Erik plagued your every waking thought; his essence identifiable within the flow of the river, within the dust upon the floorboards, within the quiet of your room upon nightfall.

He was everywhere, and you couldn’t escape.

You would find him at breakfast in the morning, laughing obnoxiously at Charles; his teeth glinting in the morning light. You would find him in the classrooms, teaching the children their mandatory mutant history lessons; a transfixing performance of great intelligence, his hands enunciating each and every point. You loved watching him teach, perching upon a desk at the back of his room as he interacted with the children, engaging with their conversations whilst simultaneously wielding the ability to hold the students captivated when delivering a lecture.

But, most importantly, your favourite place to find him was beside you. He would join you at the lakeside most nights, smiling to himself as you conjured flower after flower, allowing them to flow in the wind, the two of you watching as they found a home upon the tranquil waters. It was there, in the dark and the quiet of nightfall, that you had allowed your feelings to bubble at the surface, allowed your inhibitions to loosen as you had turned to him, studied the sharp features of his side profile; he had turned to you too, an eyebrow raised as he blinked, confused.

“I was wondering..” You began, fiddling with the petals of a flower within your hands, watching as his loose, plaid shirt fluttered in the wind beside you; a change in his wardrobe that you had inflicted, “Charles is hosting a formal dinner next weekend.”

Erik huffed, smiling at you; though his lip curled confusedly, “I know, I am the co-head of the school; I signed off on the plan.”

Idiot, you chastised yourself, of course he knew that. Erik had turned towards you entirely now, his head tilted in intrigue as he stared at you, “Oh- yeah, well I was wondering, if you wanted to-”

“I’m not even sure why Charles would want to host such a thing, I mean, just an opportunity for the kids to drink too much and make a mess of the house.”

“Yeah, well-”

“And then one of Charles’ assistants asked me to be her date for it and I-”

You felt it, in that moment, as your heart splintered within your chest; its foundations shattering and leaving you only able to gape in its wake. Coldness entrapped your body as the remaining petals of the flower within your hand shrivelled and wilted; the once luminescent petals forming a pathetic grey upon your palm. You simply nodded, zoning out and pulling yourself away from Erik’s words as he spoke, unable to hear him any further. You needed to distance yourself, distance yourself from him, from your feelings for him. It would be for the better; allow him to pursue whats-her-face without your claws of envy sinking into his shoulder blades, dragging him away from the semblance of happiness that he deserved.

“I-I’m sorry Erik,” You stuttered, cutting him off suddenly as his speech screeched to a halt, his eyes widening and form freezing as you halted his words, “I need to go.” You wasted no time in bolting upwards, marching towards the distant lights of the house, not sparing him a single glance backwards.

“Wait, Y/N-” He called, his voice catching in the breeze as he stumbled into pace behind you, “I’m sorry, did I upset you or-”

“No, Erik, it’s fine.” You turned them, your hair fluttering before your eyes in the breeze as you watched him as he came to a halt, his face stricken, mouth agape as he stared at you, “You should go with Charles assistant, I bet she’s lovely..” You turned again immediately, sighing in relief as the house grew closer.

“No Y/N, I was actually going to ask if-”

“Erik.” You snapped, turning once again, for the final time. The levity of your voice brought him to an instant pause, shock prevalent upon his features. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, you can go with whoever you want to. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Oh.” Erik was still, his voice low as he watched you, his brows low and his mouth downturned; he seemed, almost, disappointed. Though, his emotional disparity was not your responsibility anymore, “Well, okay, I will then.”

You nodded, a finality; a shallow smile painted itself upon your features, “Good. I look forward to meeting her.” You didn’t wait to see his reaction, making the final journey to the house before swinging open the door and rushing to your room- where you could comfortably wallow in the drawls of your own heartbreak.

That had been over a week ago; your initial excitement for the formal had dwindled entirely leaving you staring at yourself bleakly as you fiddled with an earring, Raven had continued to watch you; eyebrows raised and mouth curling with mirth.

“This is ridiculous, Y/N.”

“Raven! He said himself-”

“No, but,” She paused, collecting herself for a moment before leaning towards you, hands clasped upon her lap, “You haven’t seen him.”

“Of course, I have-”

“Okay, When was the last time you saw him?”

You laughed, eyes tight as you refused to make eye contact with her, “I saw him at breakfast this morning.”

“Sure, when was the last time you spoke to him?”

Pausing, you cleared your throat, she had caught you there. Your own immaturity dawned upon you as you spoke your confession, embarrassment creating a heave in your chest. “At the lake, last week.”

“That’s what I thought- I mean, that man is a brooding asshole on the usual day, but since he supposedly professed his feelings for someone else to you? He’s been miserable, wandering the halls like a kicked puppy; if he’s even capable of resembling that.”

Shaking your head, you huffed, turning to take a hasty swig from your own glass of preparatory champagne, “Maybe she rejected him after all.”

“Sure, Y/N-”

Suddenly, as the brevity of the reality which was Erik bringing another woman to the formal, a wicked realisation dawned upon you. “I need a favour.” You blurted, turning to her abruptly.

“Okay..’

“You’re bringing Hank, right?”

She gritted her teeth, a blush tinging her cheeks as she avoided eye contact, “Yes… not in that way though.”

“I need to borrow him.”

“What-” She looked confused at first, but then something clicked; mirth creasing at her eyes and twisting her lips as she cocked her head at you, “Y/N! You want to make Erik jealous.”

You shrugged, smirking at her; though the sweat at the back of your neck and legs couldn’t be denied, “I just- want to cover my own back, he can’t think that I’m moping and sad over him and another woman-”

“But, you are.”

Only sparing Raven a glare as she chortled, you continued, “I just want to let him see that I have my own date, and that… it could’ve been him. To everyone else, we’ll just be going as friends, but- Erik doesn’t need to know that.”

Before the danger of your plan could pull your mind to a halt, before it could allow your conscience to screech at its own breaks- Raven was up, crossing the span of the dressing room and pulling the door open; telling a nearby student to find and fetch Hank. The young boy nodded obediently, breaking into a sprint down the hallway. Within minutes, Hank appeared in tow; flushed and breathing heavily as he burst into the corridor, half-dressed in his suit as his tie hung loose around his neck.

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?” Hank panted, a hand planted upon the door frame as he surveyed the room; confusion followed within his features as he surveyed the two of you safe and seated comfortably. Only then, did fear truly grace his features; the dread evident within the tightening of his fingers and grit of his teeth, “What’s…going on?”

“Sorry, Hank, but you will now be attending the dinner with Y/N.”

“What?” He spat, his tall frame stalking into the room as he ensured the door was securely closed before truly entering the room, “No offence, Y/N, but I don’t understand- do you want me dead?”

“What?” You gasped in turn, rubbing a hand against your forehead as you shook your head; Raven had nodded, laughing at his fear as she silently agreed, “Why would you die?”

The ability to do so being somehow possible, Hank’s voice sunk to a hiss, bowing towards the two of you as sweat formed visibly upon his brow, “Have you seen Erik recently? He would kill me.”

“Exactly,” Jeering, Raven opened the decanter upon the small table between you, pouring Hank a brimming glass of champagne before refilling her own, he took the drink readily once she offered it to him, taking a gusty swallow as his skin steadily grew paler, or even, bluer. “We need to show him what he’s missing out on-”

“No, no.” Shaking his head hastily, Hank held his hands up before him, slowly backing towards the closed-door; a supposed attempt to make a fast escape, “I am not being a pawn in your fucked up-”

“Hank.” Raven whined, cocking her head to the side and moving to expose the skin of her leg; pouting at him endearingly- you could only fake heave at her antics. “Please, for me? Once they’ve sorted their mess out-”

“Hey-!”

“We can have a dance together.”

Hank froze, the frost that had covered his cheeks instantly warming with the rush of blood as he blushed, his face taking the features of a dazed fawn as he practically melted beneath Raven’s gaze. He soon recovered though, turning towards you and sighing, scratching at the base of his head, “Fine, I will enter with you and we can have a dance, that is it-”

“Thank you, thank you.” You interrupted him with a rush of skirts and arms flinging around his neck, peppering kisses to his cheek as you squeezed him, “You are my saviour”

“Okay, okay-” He laughed, holding you at arms length as to protect the ironed linens of his shirt, a genuine smile lining his cheeks, “I need to finish getting ready, but I’ll meet you outside the entrance at quarter past seven.”

“Quarter past? Hank it starts at seven.” You pursed your lips in confusion as he only grinned at you, a twinkle shining in his eye.

“Exactly.” He grinned as Raven gasped, breaking into applause beside you, bravoing Hank humorously as you pulled away from him, to which Hank bowed sarcastically, hand before his stomach like a true guardsman. “We need to ensure that he sees Y/N- so, we enter late; put on a little show.” He wiggled his hips as he spoke, grinning at you fake-enticingly; to which you could only fake-vomit, sticking a finger in your mouth and gagging exaggeratedly as Raven laughed beside you.

Hank departed then, a wave of a hand to you and a cheesy smile at Raven; that is when the plan jumped into action. Raven surged from her lounged position instantly, moving to check you over; your outfit, your hair, the words you would procure upon entering the formal. With a kiss on the cheek and a wink, she left at exactly 6:55; the door slamming behind the trails of her gorgeous dress.

Thus, leaving you with a harrowing twenty minutes to stew on your decisions.

Would Erik even care? Or, would he be too occupied with his supposed date? Gazing at the beauty of her dress and the delicacy of her skin instead of your own, honoured that he could serve as her date instead of wishing he could be yours. You forced yourself to break eye contact with your own reflection; disgusted at the pathetic twist of your features as nerves flooded your guts. Taking a deep breath, you shook your head; if anything, Erik would come to the realisation that you didn’t have feelings for him anymore and this sordid affair would end- you would go back to being best friends, you would swallow the bitter taste of rejection and smile through the burning fires of jealousy as he inevitably grew closer with his date for the night. Maybe the two of you would replace each other entirely, after all.

At exactly 7:10, you left the room; bridled with nerves as you could do nothing but stare at the same features of the room you had been preparing yourself in for hours. Breath in, breath out- the sound of your heels clicking against the empty hallway resounded upon the halls as the inhabitants of the house were located within the main hall- the sound of conversation and light acoustical music a distant mirage.

As you walked, you surveyed the walls of the buildings you called home- the murals upon the walls and the gorgeous art-pieces that the residents had collected throughout the years lining the walls. In the rotten depths of your mind, you wondered if this would be it- if you would have to leave, unable to sleep only doors down from Erik and the woman he would soon call his lover. The thought of it made you nauseous, made your knees beg to buckle from the strain of exasperated grief. Grief of what could have been if you had just stayed quiet, content; if you could have just been comfortable within the throes of friendship.

At the end of it all, you missed him. You missed everything about him- his inherent goods and bads. His anger and his joy; his technicolour darks and lights. You missed the sharp lines of his face, the way his hair curled without the harnessing of a pomade, the prickles of the hairs upon his forearms and the curve of amusement within his lips.

It took everything within you to not detour to the comforts of your bed, to crawl under the covers and hide for the foreseeable- wait for the inevitable to blow over, for Erik to enter your room and laugh at your sad state, just as a friend would; with no romantic-baggage whatsoever.

However, before your jailbreak attempt could successfully be enacted; Hank emerged from the adjoining hallway, hands in his pocket and a meagre smile upon his face, “Thought I’d meet you here before you decided to run away.”

Nodding, you sighed; managing a grateful smile his way as he removed his hands from his pockets and offered his arm to you, to which you took it and began to walk towards the hall’s entrance, “I was just working up the courage to do that.”

Hank laughed, the motion jostling you slightly as you stopped in front of the entrance, the door was closed; the event readily in motion behind it, “We can back out if you want, you can go in now alone and I’ll come down in a few minutes?”

Shaking your head, you tightened your grip upon his elbow; smiling tightly, your voice cracked slightly as you began to speak, the thought of facing Erik and his date alone the most terrifying imagery in that moment, “I can’t go in there alone.”

Hank turned to you then, concerned evident within the downturn of his mouth, his hands moved to your shoulders; the weight of them comforting as he sighed, “If anything happens I- we will be there, okay?”

Nodding, you smiled almost-tearfully up at your friend, your lips curling with emotion as he jostled you; attempting to squeeze some semblance of humour from your state. He beckoned you forward then, one hand upon the door handle and the other curling to rest upon the curve of your waste; that is how you greeted the entire room.

Due to the old-age of the building, the door creaked almost obnoxiously, the sound ostentatious despite the constant hum of the room. Immediately, you made eye contact with Raven; snorting into her glass as she failed to hide her amusement. Then Charles, his hands hanging in mid-air as if he was performing a speech to the group before him; though his face changed during the moment of eye contact, his eyebrows instantly raising and his lips curling into a smile as he looked into your mind, then to the hand upon your waist and finally to a point across the room.

You followed his gaze, and you could swear your heart skipped a beat as it landed.

There, stood Erik; the object of all of your desires, and your afflictions. His demeanour differed greatly from the others in the room, his face was blank; impassive as he met your eye; his hair was neatly slicked back and he adorned a clean, striking black suit. Charming. However, his body language told a different story- the grip at which he held his glass was ironclad, his lips were tight and cheeks haggard; an exact juxtaposition to the sharp cut lines of his suit.

But, as you searched the space beside, behind and above him; the only thing that you could notice was that he was completely alone.

Stood at the corner of the room, in his gorgeous suit with his exhaust-tinged eyes; he was alone. Not a date, of any shape or size or form, in sight.

Your mind only allowed a halting, record-scratch oh fuck before you were herded towards the dancefloor- Charles welcoming the ‘happy couple’ to the crowd, sheer amusement threatening to crumple his confident form as he practically tittered. Hank only rolled his eyes, grinning at you amusedly as he tugged you into the entourage that was beginning to form. You couldn’t bring yourself to smile back. Your breath was quickening, panic flooding your chest as you realised that maybe, possibly you had read this whole situation entirely wrong. As you were whisked upon the dancefloor, a drink shoved into your palm and the waltz of fast-paced conversation already hastily beginning- you used every last essence of your will to build a somewhat passable facade, to not crumple in front of the crowd, to not run towards Erik and beg for his forgiveness, for his attention.

But, oh, you had thought far too soon. Because, after all, you had garnered his attention the moment your heels resounded throughout the shocked quiet of the room.

As you surveyed the crowd, Hank’s arm an all-encompassing weight upon your waist- you failed to stop your eyes from passing Erik’s form. He remained in that very same spot, as if he belonged nowhere else, as if he was sculpted upon the very walls of the building. His eyes were fixed upon your form; no matter the step, position or pose you took- his eyes never faltered from you, never wandered; even when Charles came to stand beside him, amusement towards his best friend tinted the rise in his cheeks. The two of them began to converse, the topic being of considerable tension; seeing as though Charles continued to look ever-amused, whilst Erik’s eyes finally dropped from yours- his face visibly swelling in anger as he glared at his shoes.

“-Y/N? Sorry, Y/N?”

Shocked, you blinked, turning back towards the conversation before you; two older women stared expectantly at you, you dug your mind for any recollection as to who exactly they were- maybe some form of charitable donors? After a series of agonising seconds, to which it felt like the entire room had gone silent; each participant waiting to see what was plaguing your mind, you spoke- smile cringing as you tilted your gaze towards the air just beside the woman, “Sorry, what was-?”

“We were asking how long you and Professor. McCoy have been together?” Obnoxiously red-lipped woman-potential-rich-donor spoke, her lips stretching grotesquely as she smiled.

“Oh, well-”

“We’ve been dating casually for a few months.”

“What-”

“Oh, that is wonderful!” The woman spoke, clapping her satin-gloved hands together and bouncing on her heels.

“Yeah..” Smiling airily, you ensured that oxygen was correctly being executed from your lungs; that you were definitely awake, alive and breathing.

“It’s been a whirlwind,” Hank smiled, jostling you with the hand gripping your hip, “Between me and you, things are really starting to heat up-”

Through the excited gasps of the women you realised with abject horror that Charles and Erik were edging towards your circle; Charles leading Erik with a clutch upon his elbow, to which Erik seemed to be fighting unapologetically.

As if firing the perfect shot, at the perfect time and place, the red-lipped woman squealed at an obscene volume just as Erik entered perfect earshot, “Oh, just imagine, Y/N McCoy. It’s perfect-”

The sound of a glass shattering splintered throughout the room, halting the conversation and what felt like the very air you were breathing. Blood instantly began pouring from Erik’s hand as the surrounding partygoers jumped back in fear, the entire room watching with wide, halted eyes as he shuck the glass from his grip.

“Erik-” Trembling, you swallowed; feeling your heart hammer within your chest as you watched him, the loosening of Hank’s hand pulling and wrenching at the pit within your stomach. You had well and truly done it this time.

Erik seemed to ignore you, shrugging off the onlookers that attempted to come to his aid; allowing the air beside your head one last scathing glance before he departed from the crowd, from the room entirely. Wasting no time in following him, you dumped your purse and drink into Hank’s arms before breaking into a full sprint; throwing any sense of formality to the wind as you shoved through the crowd whilst simultaneously calling to his retreating back.

“Erik, please-” You called as you finally emerged from the crowd, the main doors slamming behind you as you stopped before him. His back was turned, feet poised as if ready to retreat, though he had stopped. Droplets of blood resounded against the linoleum, a steady flow of red dribbling from the cuts upon his hands, “Erik, you need to-”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Erik’s tone was demanding, his back clenching as he resolutely refused to turn, to face you.

“What-”

Finally, he turned; spinning on his polished heel and stalking towards you- face practically carved from stone, his gaze bleeding into yours, “Why didn’t you tell me about you and McCoy?” He practically spat Hank’s name, the name convulsing from his lips.

Scowling, you straightened your back; standing strong as you grit your teeth at him, “Why would that have been any of your business, Erik?”

Scoffing, he backed away; scrubbing his non-injured hand upon the stubble upon his jaw, almost in disbelief, “Of course- why would it be?” He laughed sardonically, throwing his hands in the air and shrugging his shoulders.

“What is your problem?”

He seemed to still, to quiet; his throat bobbling heavily as his eyes bore into you- eventually, he looked away, lip clutched beneath his teeth, “You know what, nothing-”

“Okay,” You nodded, feigning deep thought, “Let me rephrase then, why do you care?”

Erik blinked, almost in disbelief, “Come on Y/N- you know exactly-”

“-Because last I heard, you had a date for this-”

“-Who told you that?!”

“You!” You were shouting now, chest heaving at the patchworked conversation presented before you, “You did, Erik!”

He was truly in disbelief now, shaking his head and struggling to find the words; eventually he settled for one, insignificant word. He practically drawled it, set up a board and sketched out the word at agonising speed, “What?”

Laughing, mostly to yourself, you gestured towards him, “You told me.” At his silence, you opted to continue speaking, “At the lake, you told me you were going on a date with Charles’ assistant.”

“I never-” Erik groaned, hand moving to pinch the bridge of his nose as he sighed; visibly exhausted, “I know for a fact that I did not say that because-,” He was the one to laugh then, hacking at his chest as he forged his words, “-Because, you interrupted me, left and then haven’t looked at me since!” He seemed to check off the series of events on the fingers of his uninjured hand before waving his clenched fist in your direction, “So, I am assured in the knowledge that I did not say that, because I haven’t spoken to you in two weeks!”

“Okay, well, I have looked at you-”

“-No, you haven’t.”

Slamming your mouth shut, you scowled, crossing your arms petulantly; he simply watched you, the turn of his mouth pulling in its usual smug fashion. “Y/N-”

“Your hand is covered in blood.”

Smiling, he looked down at it, flexing his fingers before turning his gaze back towards you, “I know.”

“So who did you come with then?” You shrugged, completely disregarding your worries regarding his hand, “Shouldn’t you be with her instead of-”

“Y/N, you are completely missing the point… I didn’t come with anyone.”

“Oh,” You breathed, desperately attempting to hide the relief evident within your exhale, “Why?”

“Because that night at the lake,” He exhaled through his nose; his eyes flitting in between your face and the wall as he breathed, he seemed to be trembling slightly as he conjured the words adjacent to his evidently racing thoughts, “I was going to ask if you wanted to accompany me.”

“Oh.” You repeated dumbly, utterly gobsmacked at his words.

“But, it’s now evident that McCoy beat me to it, so-”

“Me and Hank aren’t together.” The words left you in a rush, you knew that your wide eyes mirrored Erik’s own perfectly; shock evident within both of your features.

“Okay-”

“I completely jumped to conclusions and I thought you were bringing a date, so I- I didn’t want to show up alone so I borrowed Hank…for the night.”

“You borrowed Hank.”

“...Yes.”

Erik suddenly burst into laughter; his face morphing to accustom the sudden change in emotion as he outrightly laughed at you. You could only stand there; slightly offended, slightly relieved at the upbringing of events.

Erik had wanted to ask you to be his date.

Did Erik have feelings for you?

“Okay, just to be clear, you weren’t asking me to the dinner as f-” Your words were abruptly cut off as Erik suddenly broke into a stride, marching up to you before placing his hands upon your cheeks and pressing his lips to yours completely, inhaling heavily as if he wanted to ingest you, taste you. You immediately kissed back with the same fervour, intertwining your fingers with the short hair upon his head and accustoming your senses to the scent of blood that was now smeared upon your cheeks.

Eventually, unfortunately, he pulled away; gazing down at you with hooded eyes. You watched as he bit his tongue, the motion tightening his jaw as he stared down at you, vision unguarded; almost unsure. You knew you looked like something straight out of a horror story, blood smeared upon your cheek and the bridge of your nose- you could only sigh blissfully as he ran his fingers through the mess he had created, spreading it until his finger reached your lips.

You both stilled; breaths catching in your chests.

After a long moment, you nodded, your eyes soon fluttering closed as he began to spread the liquid upon your lips- the copper tang of his blood immediately permeating your senses. His eyes were practically drooping now; his irises blown out in pleasure. Keeping your eyes upon his; you gauged his every movement as you sucked his finger into your mouth, effectively cleaning it and your lips of his blood. You knew in that moment that this was forever; this connection that had been forged between your souls, intertwined at each end and tightened right in the middle. Forged entirely from his very own metal.

#erik lehnsherr x y/n #erik lehnsherr x you #erik lehnsherr x reader #erik lensherr x reader #erik lensherr #magneto x reader #magneto imagine #magneto fanfic #magneto #x men #marvel #the blood play at the end was BY ACCIDENT!!!!#the gremlin inside of me wrote that not me #if anyone has any good erik gifs PLEASD SEND

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fhroggy · 5 months

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Apple Rot: MLP Infection AU - Parts 1-6

Moving my infection au over to tumblr from deviantart! All six written parts are included below, hopefully soon I'll get the time to keep working on this lol

Part One: Introduction

It's cider season at Sweet Apple Acres. The apples are ripe, the barrels are ready, and the ponies are thirsty. It's hard work, bucking down the apples and bringing them inside to press into cider, and Applejack is exhausted. It's hot, and the work she usually enjoys has grown tedious in her misery. She brings the last of the apple buckets inside, coat slick with sweat and hooves dirty and sore. She tosses the bushel of apples in with the rest of them, only to notice a strange apple sitting on top. It's a pale, sickly pink, with oozing black spots. She groans. She'll have to toss it, and thoroughly clean the rest of the bushel to avoid any contamination. But she's just so thirsty. She'll just leave for a moment, just long enough to get a glass of water, then come back and sort through it. She leaves the room, promising to herself that she'll be back before Granny Smith and Big Mac start pressing the cider.

Applejack has barely left the room when Granny Smith and Big Mac come in to get started. They're both excited for cider season, talking back and forth and keeping only half their mind on their work. Without more than a cursory glance at the harvest, the apples are loaded, the cider squeezed into barrels, and the lot ready to drink. Granny Smith, as always, tests each batch before approving it for sale, and though one of the barrels has a strange sweetness she can't quite place, the taste isn't unpleasant, and the barrel goes along with the others outside, where the line of ponies waiting to buy is over the hill and out of sight. One barrel of cider only supplies about fifteen large wooden mugs, and and while it's impossible to tell which customers happened to get the extra-sweet batch, no one complains, and the Apple family considers the day a rousing success, even if Granny Smith had to go inside early since she wasn't feeling well.

The Apple Rot has begun.

Part Two: Unwell

As the sun goes down at Sweet Apple Acres, Granny Smith seems to feel worse with each passing hour. It started with a stomachache, just a few hours into their big cider sale. A barely uncomfortable twinge in her gut, something she could easily ignore with interesting enough conversation. She was old, sure, but she wasn't frail. As she thought this, the twinge in her gut became a writhe, a rolling boil of pain and sickness that progressed into nausea, nausea which she could control only long enough to run out of sight of the customers, spitting up apple chunks, cider and froth as her cider samplings and breakfast expelled from her. A violent upheaval like that was enough to get her inside for the rest of the day, leaving her always-honest and always-steadfast granddaughter Applejack to hold down the fort. In the back of her mind, as she crawled into bed, was that the poor girl deserved a day off. Perhaps tomorrow, when she was feeling better, she'd surprise the dear thing with some apple fritters and insist on taking her chores for her. She was old, sure, but she wasn't frail. She could handle the farm work for one day, at least.

As the night wears on, Granny Smith starts to get…flashes. Flashes of…something. An urge in her gut, a need to feed- but on what? The very thought of apples, carrots, and oats makes her want to throw up even more- but she's hungry. Her bedroom floor has become a shallow pool of black, bloody bile, and even still, she's so hungry. She paces the wooden floor, hooves squishing in her sick, a steady growl in her stomach and in her throat, neither of which she can control. The door creaks, letting a sliver of light into the pitch dark room. Her darling Apple Bloom stands on the other side, coming to check on her dear old Granny.

Granny Smith knows what she's hungry for.

Part Three: Stone Content Warning for Violence/Gore/Death

As screams fill Sweet Apple Acres, miles away in Ponyville, Pinkie Pie and her family are none the wiser. In between planning their wedding and keeping up with their event schedule, Pinkie Pie and Cheese Sandwich have taken a few days off to welcome Maud into their home while she visits between geological expeditions. She isn't in town often, not since her promotion to Lead Field Researcher, and Pinkie wants to make the trip super-duper special. How lucky it was, then, that Maud would arrive in Ponyville just in time for the Apple family's cider season! Bouncing alongside the ponies she loves most, she took Cheese and Maud to the farm and bought them each a large mug, sipping from her own and pausing when she notices the strange taste on her tongue. It's...not unpleasant, exactly, but it's a little too sweet, even for her. As it slides down her throat, her Pinkie Sense tingles, and she gets the distinct feeling that she should not have swallowed it. But- it's probably fine, right? Cheese has nearly finished his mug, and Maud's is empty- though she doesn't recall seeing her sister drink anything. Maud gives her a look, stern and knowing, and does Pinkie see a little bit of concern in her sister's eyes? She shakes the worry from her mind. It's fine. She's fine.

Hours later, now, she and Cheese have been throwing up what seems like buckets of cider, frosting and cake. Maud sits quietly as Pinkie and her fiance take turns in the bathroom, though her poor Cheesie is far worse for wear. He's been positively green in the face ever since they got back, and he's been acting...strange. He's twitchy, and he keeps trailing off when he speaks. The way he looks at her, looks at Maud...there's something in his expression that Pinkie can't place, and she doesn't like it. He's been shut in the bathroom for some time at this point, and she knocks on the door, voice sweet and loving.

"Cheesie? Everything okay in there?"

He doesn't speak, but she can hear a low growl from the other side of the door. It's obvious that he isn't doing well, she needs to take him to Nurse Redheart. She'll have to talk with Applejack about the cider- she loves her friend, but this is ridiculous! It was clearly an off batch, and the Apples should never have put it out for sale. She's disappointed in them, and worried for her fiance. She opens the door, and before she can get a word out, she hits the ground.

Cheese Sandwich is above her, eyes milky white, bloody yellow-white bile dripping from his lips. He snaps his teeth at her, trying to bite her, and she's screaming and crying and what's wrong with her Cheesie and why is he hurting her makeitstopmakeitstop-

And then it does. With a heavy thud, Cheese Sandwich hits the ground, dark blood pooling from the back of his head. Maud stands over him, holding the heaviest stone she could manage. For good measure, she hits him again, and again, mashing him until Pinkie has to look away. She drops the stone on top of him once more, looking to Pinkie. They're both splattered with blood, their eyes wide and afraid as they meet each other's gazes. Maud says the only thing she can think to say.

"I'm sorry, Pinkie."

Part Four: Help

Fluttershy's cottage isn't far from Sweet Apple Acres. She can see it if she really looks, just barely able to make out the outline of the barn against the horizon line. As far out as the Apples are from town, she's even farther, her cottage so remote that only Zecora lives more isolated than her. She likes it that way- she loves her friends, but, she's also a very introverted and private pony, and thrives best when she doesn't have to worry about the way others perceive her. The only company she never truly minds is Discord's, and even he is free-spirited enough that he often disappears for days or weeks at a time. Other ponies might mind the frequent absence, but, to her, it's nice to get the space to herself. She trusts him, loves him, and is glad for the breathing room.

She's just thinking about how nice it is to have such a quiet night after the hustle and bustle of cider season when she hears a pounding on her door. It's a loud, desperate sound, and to her it sounds as if somepony is beating their entire body against the wooden door, forgoing knocking in favor of trying to take it off its hinges completely. She trembles next to her fireplace, legs quaking as the sound beats and beats and beats...

"Fluttershy! Open the door, please!" A familiar voice calls, and while Fluttershy has a sense of immediate relief knowing that she's not in any danger, the fearful edge in Applejack's voice puts her on guard. She goes to the door and opens it up, taking a step back as her friend nearly collapses at her feet.

"Applejack? What's wrong?"

Her friend looks up at her, and Fluttershy gasps.

Applejack is splattered in black bile and blood, and her eyes are wide and fearful. She's never seen a pony look so afraid, and the expression looks foreign on Applejack's face- Applejack is always strong and brave, what in Equestria could have her so meek and desperate that she needs Fluttershy's help?

"It's Apple Bloom," Applejack wheezes, barely able to get the words out between catching her breath. "Granny- Apple Bloom- something's wrong with Granny Smith, she's," Applejack shakes her head. "Granny Smith has lost her Celestia-forsaken mind. She was feelin' sick, I told Apple Bloom to leave her well enough alone, but she went in and Granny bit her!" Applejack wipes the blood from her cheek, smearing it across her face. The substance is thick and congealed, and Fluttershy notices absently that she recognizes the smell. She's smelled it before, whenever she found hurt and sick animals that were too far gone to save. It's the smell of death.

Applejack continues. "Granny just- started tryin' to tear into her, Big Mac got Granny off of her but she's bleedin' real bad and Nurse Redheart is too far away," she's crying openly now, tears cutting through streaks of bile and blood and leaving trails down her cheeks. "I know you take care of the animals, stitch 'em up sometimes, please, Fluttershy, she's my baby sister..."

Fluttershy cuts her off, voice meek but determined.

"Okay. Take me to her."

Part Five: Feed Content Warning for Violence/Gore/Death

Twilight knows she's somewhat of a workaholic. She's been that way for as long as she can remember, and though making friends did help her balance her life more, that curious, studious streak never fully left her. She's up late, later than she should be, and she's about to call it a night when she hears a loud banging on her castle doors. She groans. She loves helping the citizens of Ponyville, but, well, it's always something with them. She calls to Spike, who's been helping her find and return books as she's been going through them.

"Spike, do you mind getting the door? I swear, there's always somepony with a problem that needs fixing...You can take them to the throne room, I'll be down in a sec."

With a nod, Spike leaves the library to go down the spiral staircase and receive their guests. It's only a few seconds later that he screams for her, voice so loud and so panicked that she doesn't even bother running downstairs, using her magic to teleport her to the doors instead.

"Spike? What's wrong?"

He points to their guests, and Twilight turns her head to see Pinkie and Maud are standing in the doorway, both covered in blood, looking positively traumatized. Whatever they've been through must have been absolute hell, and the moment they lock eyes, they both immediately start yelling for her to shut the door, lock the door, keep them out-

"Them?" She interjects, looking over their shoulders into the Ponyville streets. She supposes it's a little unusual to see ponies up so late- upon closer inspection, the way they walk is a bit odd, too- they're...twitchy. Their movements are stilted and stiff, lacking in the fluidity that most creatures have. One walks into a wall, and then just stands there, face pressed to the brick and hooves shambling forwards as if they're trying to walk through it.

A cry in the night snaps all of the strange ponies to attention. Lyra bursts out of her home, screaming and crying for help as Bon-Bon gives chase. She doesn't get far. Another strange pony, Twilight thinks it's Junebug, heads her off and tackles her to the ground, biting into the flesh at her shoulder and tearing it from her in bloody chunks. Lyra is screaming and begging for somepony to help her, her eyes follow the light coming from the palace and Twilight swears that they look at each other- Lyra starts to cry out again, shrieking a pleading "Princess-" before Junebug bites into her throat and severs her vocal cords. More of the strange ponies pile on top of her, Bon-Bon bites into her cutie mark, Clover into her side- and all Twilight can do is stand there and watch. As they feed, she hears sobs, she hears muffled and distorted voices speaking around mouthfuls of flesh, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm hungry," wailing and biting and wailing some more. Once Lyra is nothing but a carcass, they finally pull away from her, and as they finally notice the light from the castle and look in her direction, Pinkie and Maud take it upon themselves to shut the doors themselves, locking and barricading it while Twilight's brain screams at her to get herself together and stop being so useless.

What is happening to everypony?

Part Six: Sorry Content Warning for Violence/Blood

Apple Bloom doesn't feel good at all. Applejack's gone, promising that she would go get help and that Apple Bloom would be okay, she just has to hold on- but Apple Bloom can feel her strength waning. She's trying, trying as hard as she can to stop her mind from swimming in and out of consciousness, and she's trying to keep the pressure on her bandages like Big Mac told her to before he left. He was supposed to stay with her, but the crash from Granny Smith's room had been worrying enough that he'd decided to check on her, promising Apple Bloom that he'd be right back and to just keep holding her hooves down against the wound so that it wouldn't bleed so much. She's pretty sure he's been gone too long, but she's having trouble keeping track of the time. Maybe it really had only been a few minutes.

Really, the bite wasn't too bad, all on its own. Sure, it needed stitches and wouldn't stop bleeding, and its position on her neck made it hurt to turn her head, but it was just a bite. She'd been injured worse by farm animals, and she'd always been okay then. And for a little while she did seem okay- but then the fever hit her, and she got dizzy and collapsed, Applejack crying out for her as she hit the ground. Now her small body flipped back and forth between overheating and freezing, her coat slick with sweat. And she was getting...weird thoughts. Thoughts she couldn't control, thoughts that scared her. Images of her turning and attacking Big Mac and Applejack, the same way Granny attacked her. She didn't like it.

She was jolted from her thoughts when her door creaked open, and a high, lilting voice cut through the eerie silence.

"Apple Bloom? We knocked on the door for ages, and no one answered. I hope it's alright we let ourselves in."

Apple Bloom's glazed eyes slide over to the doorway, where Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo are grinning and holding sleeping bags. That's right- they'd agreed to have a sleepover tonight, didn't they? Granny Smith had promised them the last of the cider, and Applejack was going to let her stay up late...in the commotion, they'd all forgotten. She shook her head slowly.

"Guys, I don't think y'all should be in here. I'm sick, and so is Granny..."

"But you were fine when we saw you earlier," Sweetie Belle cuts in again, approaching the bed. "Maybe you ate something bad? I could get you some water and crackers, that always settles my stomach." She hasn't noticed the bite, with Apple Bloom's hoof over it. She gets closer still, and Apple Bloom squeezes her eyes shut as she gets those weird thoughts again.

When she looks again, Sweetie Belle is by her side, but she notices that Scootaloo is hanging back in the doorway, looking around nervously. Scootaloo, to her credit, has picked up that something is deeply wrong, her wings twitching as she takes a slow step back. A part of Apple Bloom is relieved. Good, Scootaloo, She thinks, Back up. You'll need the head start. For what, she isn't quite sure.

Sweetie Belle coos over her, taking on that sugary-sweet caring role that she does when she's trying to be like her big sister. She reaches up to feel Apple Bloom's forehead, and Apple Bloom gets another one of those bad visions. She imagines herself lurching out of bed and biting Sweetie Belle's leg, and when she hears Sweetie Belle scream, she realizes that it wasn't a vision at all. She tastes the coppery blood in her mouth and she's ashamed and afraid but also hungry for more.

"I'm sorry," Apple Bloom chokes out, eyes wide as she sits up, the bite mark on her neck glistening in the moonlight. "I'm so sorry, Sweetie Belle, I don't know why I did that-"

Sweetie Belle is sobbing now, and Scootaloo just looks at Apple Bloom with wide, terrified eyes, frozen in place with fear. Apple Bloom's limbs are twitching, now, trying to force her out of the bed to finish what she's started, and it's all Apple Bloom can do to hold herself back- though she's unable to stop herself from licking her lips.

As the screams and cries and apologies fill the house, Apple Bloom can hear a loud thumping and a crash from the far end of the hall, and all the sudden Big Mac is standing there, covered in blood with a shovel in his teeth- a shovel also splattered in blood and black bile. He drops it from his mouth as he takes in the scene, metal clanging against the floor. When he speaks, his voice is heavy and authoritative, and Apple Bloom has never heard him sound so angry and afraid at the same time.

"Get the hell out of here! Get out of this house and don't y'all ever come back here again!" He yells at the foals, not out of malice but out of concern, and his booming, deep demands have their intended effect as Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo run out of farmhouse and down the road, running home to their warm beds where they can try and forget what they've seen.

Apple Bloom looks up at Big Mac, and her eyes fill with tears. She has blood smeared around her mouth, and a dark part of her revels in the lingering taste. "I'm so sorry, Big Mac, I don't know what happened, I don't- I'm scared..."

Big Mac looks down at her, his eyes so soft and so sad, and, slowly, he picks up the shovel again.

#mlp #mlp infection au #mlp fim #mlp g4 #mlp redesign

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with-my-calamitous-love · 1 month

Text

YOU’LL SEE ME IN HINDSIGHT

touya todoroki x reader

you spend one last night with your husband before he goes to battle shouto and endeavour.

angst/smut, mha official ending spoilers

part 1/3

inspired by wildest dreams

2 years of hiding. 2 years of silence. 2 years of putting the outside world on pause. 2 years of bliss.

to fall of the face of the earth with your beloved was possibly the most romantic thing you could have ever experienced. you existed in your own snow globe, dancing in circles round and round shielded from the outside world. but you both knew it wouldn’t be forever.

you had a quiet house on the countryside, surrounded by gorgeous acres of land. for you and touya, it seemed much to large for both of you. but acres of nature’s serene solitude provided the two of you enough time to escape from the world. you, at least, wanted to escape. for touya, it was more like purgatory. this is where he spent his time before death.

the backyard was perhaps your favourite part. you sat on the old wooden steps on the porch, eyeing the lush vegetation that seemed to thrive despite the ever-increasing fleetingness of the moment. soon, no one would pick the peaches from the trees, or harvest the sweet strawberries from the bushes. no one would admire the flowers that grew for miles or the sweet smell of life. no one would ever see the beauty of the land that touya todoroki loved you on.

you hear his creaky footsteps come up behind you, watching you as you watch the world- like you are his world. for a moment, he sees nothing.

“the magnolias.” words finally escape your lips.

“hm? whats that doll?” he asks.

you take a deep breath, prying your eyes away from the garden and finally turning to face your lover. your hand raises to point at the delicate white petals bundled together like a stanza.

“those ones over there. magnolias. they smell the sweetest.”

his blue eyes follow over to where you point as he sits down next to you. he simply nods, looking at the flowers you told him smelled the best.

a thought crosses your mind. you overheard him talking it over with shigaraki. you knew what tomorrow was. yet you were hesitant to let the words leave your mouth. you didn’t even want to dare it.

“…you know you’re going to die, right?”

the words leave your tongue like a curse.

at first, he looks over at you, bewildered by the statement. but touya isn’t dumb- he knows you can pick up on things. and he knows he isn’t dumb enough to wanna lie to you- though admittedly the lie is better. the lie is so much more comforting in this instance.

“…i know, doll.” touya tells the truth.

you don’t say anything, but your silence is perhaps the loudest thing he’s heard all day.

“its too late to give up on it now.” he says it like he’s trying to salvage it. as if theres any way to fix all the pain he hasn’t even caused you yet. he knows your grief is only inevitable.

“…thought so.” you sigh, getting up from the creaky wooden steps and moving back into your home. its a home that you and touya have built together. dirty rugs with tracks stained from his large black boots. your coat and his hanging from the door, his so much darker and larger than yours. the dirty bowls in the sink you have yet to wash, leftover from soba night. the memories, the dreams, the love. the world was about to see dabi, but for two years you got to love touya.

so many memories were suddenly engulfed in fire. dancing barefoot in the kitchen, trying on his coat that reached the floor on your frame, hugging him and feeling the warmth only he could give you. all of it was soon to be ash.

he follows you into the house, watching as you move about. he’s silent, since words always seemed to fail him when it came to you. theres a heavy tension that lingered in the house. soon, this wouldn’t be yours and touya’s home. soon, these walls would be haunted. soon, this would no longer be a home.

“you know theres no way you’re getting out of this alive, right?” you ask as if to confirm your worst fears. funny, since you already knew the answer.

“…as long as i take that old bastard down with me.” touya says, a familiar flicker of revenge ruminating in his brilliant turquoise eyes. perhaps love wasn’t meant to end suffering, after all.

and thats enough to make your voice resonate with that familiar crack of anguish.

“…what about me, touya..?”

he winces. he expected you to yell, to scream at him. to tell him how much of an asshole he is. how much you hate him. somehow, your strangled, quiet cry hurts more.

“you… you’ll be fine. you manage.” he’s lying through his teeth and you both know it.

what else could you say?

you turned away from him, walking upstairs to your bedroom. this was the room you loved the most. so many late nights and sunny, early mornings. god, getting to see him all tuckered out from the previous night, the deepest morning voice you have ever heard. his cheeky remarks, half lidded blue eyes looking into you. the way he pulls you back into bed, asking where the hell you think you’re going. all of that love was packing its bags and moving on.

he follows you again, not knowing what else to say but not wanting the conversation to end either. maybe he just didn’t want you and him to end, despite the fact that neither of you had a choice.

“i was never apart of your plan, was i?” your voice cracks again, asking him to confirm your deepest hurt. you knew it to be true. loving you was never something touya ever intended on doing. yet he stayed.

he only sighs, trying to find the right words. “i’m sorry. i never meant to drag you into this-“

“don’t be.” you quickly cut him off once you realize he’s not denying anything.

touya was a man of promises. he knows that he’s made a vow. a vow to bring endeavour down, to expose him for all the suffering he’s condemned him to. to show his father that he was the worst thing to ever happen to the flame hero. he branded that promise deep into his heart, and he had 0 intentions of letting it up now.

not even for you.

the sound of cooing causes both of you to stare out the window. there, perched on the window sill, are two doves- happily chirping to one another, unbeknownst of the pain just lurking behind the glass.

“you know, doves mate for life.” you say, looking at the smaller one nestling into the snow white feathers of its much larger companion.

“kind of romantic, isn’t it?” touya shrugs, also noting the way the two birds hold onto each other like nothing else matters. even with the ability to fly, to sore the sky and see the stars up close, the two birds loved each other like none of that was even remotely interesting.

“it is romantic.” you agree. “loving each other for the rest of their lives. even if that life is short.”

he quickly catches on.

touya swore he’d love you for the rest of his life. even if that life was too short for him.

touya watches the birds alongside you, their delicate, graceful forms seeming to symbolize something more than just a couple of birds resting on a window sill. they continue to coo quietly to each other, cuddling and nuzzling against each other, completely at ease and content with the love they’d found.

after a moment of silence, touya speaks up, his voice quiet and hesitant.

"you know i don’t want to leave you, right?”

wanting seemed irrelevant, here. it didn’t matter what you or touya wanted. fate was decided, against what either of you want.

“i know.” you say, solemnly. you rest your hands on touya’s side of the dresser, like a wounded soldier hanging his head low. your heart was hurting. by this time tomorrow, he’d be gone. the love of your life would be gone.

for a second, touya is lost in his own world of hate. he hates himself, more than he’s hated anyone in his entire life. he hates himself for letting you love him. he hates himself for having to leave you here, all alone, safe and stranded.

he’s then pulled out of his trance when he sees you in his drawer, holding the ring he’s kept hidden from you for months. a beautiful, silver ring with a sapphire as deep as the blue sea. alongside is his ring, just a simple, silver band. he mentally curses himself for not hiding it well enough.

his heart beats out of his chest, watching you slowly turn to him, holding the ring.

“you remembered i like sapphires.” you say, not a question but a statement. of course he remembered your favourite gemstone. touya remembered every little thing he loves about you.

“yeah… course i did, doll.” he says, as if its obvious he remembered.

he wishes he could actually cry when he sees you slip it onto your left ring finger. god, it fits you perfectly. his eyes remain mesmerized as you flex your fingers, seeing how it looks on you.

you legs carry you over to him, pulling him in close. you rest your hands on his chest and your forehead against his. touya’s scarred hands find their way to your waist, drawing you in as if to shield you from all the heartache thats to come.

“you know we can’t actually get married, right?” you dryly chuckle, your voice barely a whisper. “especially not legally.”

he hums in response. he’s well aware you two could never go down to a courthouse and officially commit to one another. “you think i care ‘bout that?” he manages a smirk. “i still wanna marry you. even if its just between us.”

“so, you’re really gonna turn me into a widow tomorrow hm?” you ask.

his blue eyes flicker down to your ring, his brain still unable to compute that its real. “i guess so.”

you smile, though theres an undeniable hint of sadness in your eyes that touya knows all too well.

“i know you don’t wanna leave me, touya.” you whisper, looking into his eyes, staring into his soul.

he physically feels his heart clench at your words. and at the look in your eyes, he feels a wave of emotion wash over him. he wants to reach out and take you into his arms, to hold you tight and never let go. but he can’t. he has to stay strong, no matter how weak you make his resolve.

“i.. i know i don’t want to leave you, i don’t want to leave you behind. but i have to. i have to do this. i have to take him down.” he says, gritting his teeth at the thought of that bastard.

“i hope you do.” you encourage. “fuck that guy.”

touya almost laughs at this, pressing his forehead against yours. “yeah. fuck that guy.”

“i… i hate him. i hate him for doing this to you. for turning you into this. for taking you away from me. from what we could have had.” you can’t help the tear that falls from your eye just thinking about it, thinking about what you lost. the husband you could have had, the kids, the future… all of that could only live on in your dreams, now.

touya’s eyes widen in surprise and pain at your words. he honestly hadn't thought about it like that before, hadn't considered how endeavour’s actions had impacted you, too. he knew that his hatred and need for revenge had caused a rift between the two of you, but hearing you say it out loud, seeing the pain in your eyes, it cuts straight to his heart.

he looks at you, his expression torn between anger and guilt.

"i’m sorry. i’m sorry I've put you through all this, doll. i’m sorry i let my anger and hate consume me. its all i know.” he says, closing his eyes. he can’t bare to watch you cry over something as pathetic as him.

“i… i think you’re a murderer. and a villain. touya.” you seethe. and he accepts that hatred from you, because he doesn’t deserve anything more or less.

“and i also think you’re a deeply traumatized person who was stuck as a kid who feels like nothing but a failure after, being in a 3 year coma.” you conclude your true feelings. he doesn’t say anything to that for a moment.

he knew that you saw him for what he was- a killer, a villain, a monster. but hearing you say it out loud, hearing you sum up his entire life, stung.

he tightens his grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh slightly as he struggles to keep his emotions in check. he keeps his eyes averted, unable to meet your gaze.

“i know what i am. what I’ve become. i don’t know what else to do.” he says, defeated, like the end of a long battle.

“can you love me? is that an option?” your question is more of a plea than anything else. finally, he looks you in the eye, as if the answer to that question is obvious.

“you’re the only thing i think i’m capable of loving.” he admits, more to himself than to you.

“you’re the only thing thats made my life worth living. and im so fucking grateful. for you. and your love.” the way he says it like a goodbye hurts all too much. but its words you need to hear. making him feel love was an absolute honour.

you pull him close to you, wrapping your arms around his neck desperately. oh, to memorize the feeling of his body against yours as his strong arms circle your waist, pulling you up to match his taller frame.

“you’re the best i’ve ever loved.” you say.

“you’re the only thing i’ve ever loved.” he confirms.

“then spend one last night with me. as your wife. whatever you do in the morning is up to you, i don’t care, but just give this night to us.” he can’t deny the way you beg him- even though you don’t even have to ask. he was already planning on it, visualizing all the ways he was going to physically show you he loves you in the bed tonight. but he needs to make sure, first.

“are you sure you want that, doll? one last night?”

“what i want is forever, touya.” you clarify. “but if i can have just one last night, i think we can make it work.”

and once he’s gotten your consent, the rest of the night is set.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

most think that guys can only fuck or make love- but touya gave you both and everything in between that night.

the way his hands roamed over every inch of your body like he was trying to etch himself onto you. god, the way his cock slid in and out of you at an unreasonably fast pace. he can’t help that he wants you, that he wants to be the only guy to ever throw you onto the mattress and fuck you till your absolutely spent all over him.

“fuck. yeah? ya like that doll?” he groans into your ear, the filthy sounds of skin slapping together filling the room. “gonna fuck you so good. god, your pussy is so fucking good.”

he has you on your back, turquoise eyes drinking in the way your eyes roll to the back of your skull. to say it looked absolutely filthy was an understatement, but to you two and just you two, this was how you showed love. touya was never a man of words- sure, he could tell you that he loves you, that he wants you, and that he doesn’t want to leave you, but you both already know that. so he lets his actions speak for him: spreading your legs to opposite sides of the room, playing with your pussy until your absolutely gushing, and not even daring to stop even when you can barely form a coherent sentence. he loves how he gets you like this. because he fucks you until your sobbing- partly from the mind melting pleasure, and partly from the fact that you know you’ll never find a cock this good ever again.

and touya’s not usually a huge biter or a kissed, but god, does he go crazy over the way you scream when he sinks his teeth in. and he won’t stop at a few nicks- you’re funny. the way he loved you is agonizing. loving you manifests as an all-consuming entity. he’s driven wild by the pleasure, and he wishes he could just have you whole right now.

if theres one thing you learned from loving touya, its that the idea of love being just a feeling, a simple chemical in the brain, was simply incorrect. no. love is not a feeling. love cannot be summed up into a simple 7 letter word. love took over your senses, the sight, the ears, the touch, the smell and especially the taste. you honestly wished touya would just consume you. and not just for lust or for petty desires. you wished to become a part of him. he wanted to taste your flesh against his lips like it was god damn salvation. let his being be apart of yours as his lips bless your skin, begging for another bite. let him feel something that is so wrong yet so right. let him want something that feels too good to be true. because its him. god, the way he loves you as if he’s savouring the rhythm of your heart- only he makes it beat that way. he watches, absolutely mesmerized as your fluids drip down your thighs, watching how he makes you melt. in the end, the two of you are reduced to nothing but empty space. because you were touya’s favourite part of himself.

you scream his name until his throat runs dry, as he continuously chases the feeling of your velvet walls clenching around his cock. god, the way he feels when your nipples slide over his pecs. how you scratch down hid back, how he actively has to keep his quirk in check as not to burn you- not that you’d mind a brand in the shape of his hand. he’s already left his fingerprints all over you, anyway.

“p-please! ah! don’t stop!” you moan for probably the 100th time. not that touya’s complaining, he loves your desperate side. he loves that he’s the one who can coax it out of you.

you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve come. from his fingers, to his mouth, to his cock that felt like it was shaped especially for you. your thighs tremble around his waist desperately, begging him to pull yet another orgasm out of you. and touya happily obliges. he loves to fuck you till all you can think of is him.

he can feel himself unraveling, wanting nothing more than to see his cum dripping down your beautiful pussy. he knows that this is the last chance he’ll have to take you like this. and when you arch your back and scream ‘TOUYA!’ at the top of your lungs, he loses it.

the groan he lets out in your ear as he finally releases himself into you is mouthwatering. warm, thick, ropes of his seed stuffing you to the absolute brim. you feel your toes curl and your mind blank, only being able to focus on the sensation of his love melting away every single worry or doubt in your mind. the way the sweat from his and your body forces you two to stick together as he holds you against him, helping you come down from the intense high.

his body collapses down beside you, mustering all his leftover energy to pull you closer to him. he pulls the blanket over you and him, like cementing his rightful place next to you, holding you in his arms.

“could lay here with you forever.” he utters, somewhat hoping you won’t catch what he says.

“i wish you would.” of course you catch on.

he pulls back slightly to look you in the eye. having you here, hair sprawled out, in his arms. you’re covered in the evidence of him like your a crime scene- his favourite crime at that.

his heart clenches at the thought of tomorrow. that at this time in 24 hours, he won’t be with you anymore. and that made him want to scream.

your hands move up to cradle his chin, brushing your thumb over his lower lip. your voice is rasped from your recent activities as you ask your question: “can i ask you something?”

“anything, doll.” he says confidently.

you inhale deeply. “can… can you feel me here?”

you motion to his burnt lower lip, and then to his patches of purple, burnt skin, barely holding itself together. its a question you’ve wondered for years, yet have always feared the answer.

his silence is nerve wracking, before finally answering.

“yeah. i can.”

even then, you’re not convinced.

“even when i kiss you?” your voice is barely above a whisper.

he leans in closer, as if its important to him that you hear this.

“you’re the only person that makes me feel things, doll. yes, i can feel you.”

he inhales again, knowing that he needs to ask you this sooner or later.

“promise me something, babygirl.”

“anything.” you nod.

“promise me… promise me that when i walk out that door tomorrow. promise me you’ll find some other guy. someone that makes you happy and protects you. that..”

that loves you like he does. but touya knows that no one will ever love you like he does.

to say your heart shattered at that was an understatement. how could you ever even think of finding another man, when your heart irrevocably belonged to touya todoroki?

“…is that what you want?” you asked, still shocked.

the question hits him like a punch to the gut. no, he absolutely, unequivocally does not want that. the thought of someone else with you, loving you, holding you, being with you… it makes him sick to his stomach. no, he can’t even bare the thought of someone being tangled with you like this. dreaming of you like he does. loving you with a love so bright it burns- it made him sick.

and when he thinks of that. of you moving on without him.. selfishly, so fucking selfishly, it makes him want to burn the world down. because if it’s nothing but ash, no one will get to have you, even he’s gone. maybe to love him meant burning it all down, anyway.

and for a moment, he's tempted, so very tempted, to say no, to tell you that he wants you to never move on, to tell you to love him and only him, selfish as it may be. but he can't. not when he knows he never even deserved you in the first place.

"…yes."

and you have the audacity to scoff.

he looks on confused, and a little offended. what was so audacious in this moment it had you laughing?

“touya.” you call his attention. his blue eyes never even left your sight as he nods.

“do you honestly think love just ends when you leave?”

it stumps him, for a moment. like his heart stuttering at the thought. he tries to figure out where you’re going with this as he answers.

“no. i don’t.” he affirms.

“exactly.” you say. “it doesn’t. in fact, i don’t think i’ve loved you any more than i do right now. love is felt the strongest when its leaving.”

your words do more to him than he’d like to admit. he gulps.

“so even right now, you love me?”

the answer to that should have been obvious.

“i’m never not loving you.”

he manages a dry chuckle, pressing his forehead to yours. god, he wishes he could have this forever. but he knows a demon like him can’t enter heaven.

so for now, he embraces you fully, rubbing circles onto your back and hushing you to sleep. the cool air blows through the room, so he shields you with his body, wanting you to feel nothing but the warmth and the comfort you deserve. he may not be the guy you deserve, but he sure as hell can protect you like he his.

and for what might be the last time, he savours the way your lips bless his in a kiss. your the only name on his lips, the only one that could ever feel what its like to love him.

he feels his heartbreak as you fall asleep. he hopes you dream of him. dreams are so much happier.

“…i’m never gonna stop loving you.” he whispers.

and with that, touya falls asleep.

382 notes · View notes

luci-in-trenchcoats · 13 days

Text

The Change: Beau

Summary: Beau's having a normal Saturday night when he catches a strange scent in the wind...

The Change

Pairing: Alpha!Beau Arlen x omega!reader

Word Count: 8,000ish

Warnings: language, angst, minor violence/injuries, fluff, implied smut

A/N: Y'all wanted more of The Change and I thought what better way to fill in some of the gaps than by taking a peak through Beau's perspective! While not 100% necessary to read The Change to understand this story, it's highly recommended!

_________

Saturday Night

“Dad, are you okay?” I turned my head towards Em, forcing a smile. She raised an eyebrow from her chair nearby the fire pit, a blanket over her lap. “You look worried.”

“It’s fine.” Shit. I bit my tongue but she was giving me that look again. That “we need to communicate openly, remember what the counselor said, dad?” look. I slumped down in my chair, trying to ignore the strong whiff of omega floating through the breeze.

I could smell Em by my side. All sugar cookies, lavender, fresh linen, with that oh so subtle hint of fresh rain that was baked into the Arlen pack. Scenting had it’s limits though. It only worked maybe twenty feet or so away.

So why the hell did I smell an Omega with rain in her scent but nothing else? We had some land to ourselves, a good ten acres, on the edge of the neighborhood. There was no feasible way I could be smelling an omega all the way up here.

“Dad!” Emily barked. I shot upright, looking around for any sign of danger. “What’s wrong with you? You smell…weird.”

“Weird?” I lifted my jacket collar and sniffed, something certainly off about it. She shrugged.

“You smell, like you did when you found me at the mine,” she said quietly. “You know, way on red alert. What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure…” I said, standing slowly. I was prepared to make up an excuse but Emily was watching with those big doe brown eyes and it made my heart clench. Communication. Right. “I uh, smell an omega which is weird when it’s only the two of us out here.”

Em smirked, a frown crawling onto my face. “Well there is one reason Alphas can smell an omega that’s far away when they aren’t in the pack. You know…soulmates.”

I blinked at her, cocking my head. “That’s not…your mom was-”

“Daddy.” I froze still, eyes locked on hers. “I mean this in the nicest way but you and mom are not soulmates. Your bond broke way before you got divorced and soulmates never get divorced. You care about each other but it’s not that soulmate love.”

“I thought you wanted me and your mother back together for the longest time,” I said quietly, slowly sitting. Emily slumped down, fisting her blanket.

“Me too. But you’re happier here than I think I ever saw you with mom. What’d you tell me? Don’t settle for convenient and easy?” I smiled, reaching over to mess up her hair, earning a groan that made my heart happy.

“Sometimes I forget my sassy child is full of wisdom,” I said.

“Going to traumatic murder camp and getting kidnapped will do that to you,” she said with a cheeky grin. I rolled my eyes, chuckling as I ruffled it one more time. She’d been pretty shook up after everything last year and Carla didn’t love Em’s dark humor but the counselor said it was a healthy way for her to cope and shit, I wasn’t about to stop her.

These days, it was hard to tell anything even happened to her besides the occasional nightmare.

“I’m going to run out real quick and pick up some ice cream. Flavors?” I asked. She rolled her eyes. “What?”

“Go find this little omega of yours. I can handle being alone,” she said. I stared at her, Em rolling her eyes. “Fine. You can have a sheriff come over.”

“Thank you,” I said, kissing her temple. “Put the fire out for me please when you’re done. I’ll be back soon.”

“Have fun finding your soulmate!” she teased, not noticing the way my heart jumped up to my throat at her words.

Twenty minutes later I was walking around town, following the growing scent of rain when something else mixed in. Something sharp, painful.

Danger. Omega in danger. Your Omega is in danger.

I took off in a sprint down the sidewalk, following the scent and turning the corner to a dark parking lot next to a pharmacy.

“Get off!” someone muffled a shout under a large hand, that someone being my goddamn omega, my soulmate, my everything.

I drew my weapon and fired a shot in the air without thinking, nearly pulling the trigger on the two scumbags pinning her down.

Calm down. She needs you more than you want to hurt them.

I reluctantly took a breath, listening to the inner voice in my head. “On your bellies. Hands on your head or the next one goes through your spine.”

The two assholes rolled off of her and I quickly glanced at the omega. Her cheek was scuffed up and she looked sacred but damn, she knocked the breath out of me.

Hairs prickled the back of my neck as I inhaled her scent.

Fuuuuuuck. She smelled like fresh rain, she had that Arlen pack scent. My vision swam for the briefest of moments as my heart thudded happily at finding it’s soulmate. Alright, I could be a pile of mush later. I needed backup and these guys restrained before I not so accidentally started shooting off pieces for touching her.

“Mam’, are you alright?” I asked. She nodded quickly and thankfully it looked like they hadn’t done more than knock her to the ground before I was able to step in. I pulled out my phone, shoving it between my shoulder and ear. “Dispatch, this is Arlen. I need two squad cars at the Rite-Aid pharmacy off of Main. Two suspects in custody. Attempted assault. Vic appears okay besides some minor injuries.”

“We’ll have two cars over in under two, Sheriff.”

“Thanks, Abby,” I said, staying on the line but shoving the phone in my pocket just in case. I secured one man with my cuffs but I needed something else unless I wanted to sit on top of this guy. Meanwhile, the omega was scrambling across the pavement, trying to pick up the items she’d bought into the plastic bag in her hand. She reached for a small pack of zip ties, slightly odd to pick up in the middle of the night but I’d hold off on my judgment.

“Mind if I borrow that?” She let me take the package and remove a tie, securing the second man, albeit he could get out if he really tried. “Thank you mam.”

She was clearly petrified and putting on a brave face. She shoved a bottle of pills in her bag as I asked her once again if she was alright.

“Never better!” She said in an abnormally high pitched voice. She popped to her feet before I could help her up, a slow sigh escaping me. “Uh, thanks.”

Be a calming presence for her.

But then she was trying to leave down the dark parking lot again and I grabbed her arm on instinct. Didn’t she realize the safest place for her was by my side? “Whoa, whoa. These guys can’t do anything to you. Backup will be here in two minutes tops. I know you want to get home but we need a statement and you should get that scuff cleaned up by a paramedic. Hell, I can do it for you back at the station.”

She just kept staring at me and alarm bells were going off in my head. Did she have a concussion? Did she hit the back of her head? Okay, she needed to be seen by a doctor right now. “Alright. I think you hit your head a little harder than we both realized when they knocked you down. Why don’t you take a seat-”

I was not expecting my dream girl to proceed to knee me in the dick so hard my life flashed before my eyes. I heard a sorry squeak out as she took off and I lay on the ground, trying to get my bearings.

“Nice one, sheriff,” snided one of the men in custody. I grunted, kicking him in shoulder as I sat up. “Fucker, you can’t do that!”

“If it were up to me, I’d beat the shit out of you, drop you off a cliff and let the animals eat you alive.” I rolled to my knees and got up as a squad car showed up, an officer running out.

“You alright, boss?” I waved him off.

“Read these two their rights. I’m going after the victim,” I said, jogging past him and down the street, catching tail lights in the distance. I made it to my truck and was on the road just as she turned left about a mile away. I cursed as I lost sight but then I rolled down my window, taking a deep breath.

Her scent was subtle but I followed it down a dirt road and up a barely there path through the trees to a rundown looking cabin. There was a light on inside and I jogged up to the door when her scent was stronger. “Miss? It’s Sheriff Beau Arlen. We met just a short time ago. I’m doing a wellness check. Please answer the door.”

The omega ripped open the door, the fear from before replaced with etches of worry.

“Hi. My dad fell earlier today. I think he broke his leg. He’s in the bathroom.” Oh, this poor thing. I nodded, giving her a smile.

“Okay. We can call an ambulance and-”

“He’s terrified of public places. Of catching the…sickness.” Sickness? What the hell was she talking about? “I know he needs a hospital but is there any way we can limit the number of people he’s around? Like a doctors office or something?”

I breathed deeply, picking up on her father’s bland scent indicating he was Beta. But in her own home this Omega should have smelled like something more than fresh rain. Anything at all.

Shit, she smelled like Emily had before she fully presented. Like a blank canvas. But how the hell had this woman in her early thirties that was presented as omega not smell like one?

“How the hell…” I shook my head. She simply hadn’t had a proper heat before which in theory was possible if she hadn’t been around an Alpha during her cycle before. Strange but not completely unheard of. A groan in the background had me straightening myself. “Alright. I’ll see what I can do to accommodate his…needs.”

She thanked me and attempted to have me leave but I was already texting dispatch, telling them I was about to have a first time adult heat. God, I remember when Carla had hers. She was bent over in pain one second yelling at me for existing and trying to jump my bones the next telling me how much she needed me. Even though I was struggling through a damn rut in exhaustive pain.

That should have been my first clue that her needs would always outweigh mine.

I sighed when our argument turned heated, the poor little omega in front of me overwhelmed with fear and hormones and likely a good dose of paranoia. She collapsed as I caught her in my arms, gently laying her down to the ground.

“What the hell did you do to my daughter!” shouted her father from a room off to the side. “You infected her you-”

“Hey!” I barked, placing a pillow under her head and brushing the hair from her face. I stood and stormed over to him, wincing at the nasty piece of meat that was his leg. “You are going to tell me exactly what has been going on around here with her, with you, all of it.”

“You got her sick!” I squatted down, narrowing my eyes. He returned it, breathing hard. “You nasty smelling mutt. You bite her and I’ll kill you.”

“So you do know a thing or two about this situation,” I said with a smile. “Now. Tell me everything or this nasty mutt with a gun and a badge will start thinking you’re keeping your daughter locked away and doing some very nasty things.”

“I would never, you perverted-” I snarled, the Beta biting his tongue.

“Do not disrespect me. I am here to help her and her alone. Now she’s going into heat, uneducated and scared. Her body is going to be in pain and she doesn’t understand why all because you have lied to her for a decade. I would never be so cruel to my daughter.” He swallowed, his gaze going to behind me where she lay on the floor. “She will be fine but you need to tell me everything. Now.”

Five Hours Later

“Good evening, Dr. Y/L/N. This is sheriff Beau Arlen of the Helena police department. I apologize for the late call but we have a situation here with your father and sister,” I said from the corner of the hospital room where Y/N laid fast asleep. She’d awoken confused and more than a little…primal a few hours ago. I could only imagine what it felt like to go through your first heat with your soulmate sitting eight feet away.

She smelled delectable, enough so I had to ask for some scent blockers for myself so I’d stop getting so damn horny around her.

“Please call me Emmet. Are they okay? I haven’t heard from my sister in a decade so any news-”

“She’s alright Emmet. She’s currently at our local hospital being treated for her first heat. Your father broke his leg badly a few days ago and is in the ICU recovering from surgery.” Emmet swore on other line and breathed deeply.

“My father is paranoid, Sheriff. I called him on the night of the Change years ago and told him to take my kid sister out of the city for a few days until we knew what was going on. I called him five days after and told him it was okay to go back but they never did. I’ve explained to him over and over again that she is perfectly safe. I could never track him down.”

“They appear to be staying at an old cabin on the edge of town here,” I said, Emmet groaning.

“They went to grandpa’s hunting cabin? Jesus christ. I forgot that place existed. Is Y/N alright?”

“She’s fine, Emmet. She’s a strong woman, her body just needs to catch up a little is all.” Emmet huffed.

“She was supposed to work at a big accounting firm. She got a really good job out of college and then she disappeared with him. The paranoid fucker’s probably kept her locked up there for years.” My heart skipped a beat. “Sorry. He wouldn’t hurt her. Dad’s just…always been overprotective of her. Always. Something happened when she was young and…yeah, he’s always been afraid of her getting hurt again.”

“Emmet, any information you can relay to me might help me understand your father better. I need to know if your sister has been at that cabin all these years of her own free will or not.”

Emmet was quiet for a beat, a chair creaking as if he were sitting down in the background. “Our father was a lawyer. A prosecutor. He put away a killer…for a very dangerous and powerful family. I was in college at the time. They broke in one night and killed our mother and kidnapped Y/N. She was maybe four? I don’t think she even remembers. It took a few days to get her back and that was only because she bit one of them and ran away and out a window.” I smirked, closing my eyes.

“Always been tough as nails even when she’s afraid, huh.”

“Yeah. Dad was different with her after that. Always blamed himself. Way too protective. She tried to appease him but she always wanted to live her own life too. The idea of her being claimed by someone-”

“He literally can’t handle it,” I finished. Emmet hummed. “Thank you for the information Emmet. I’ll speak with your sister more but I doubt we’ll press charges.”

“Mr. Arlen, I’ll be down in a few days. I need to speak to my sister, and father. I’m in Seattle these days and I think it’s best if she stays with me for the time being.” I cleared my throat, walking out of the room and to the hallway. “My father will need intensive rehab if it’s as bad as you say and then in-home care, both of which will be much easier to provide if I’m there-”

“Emmet, there’s not an easy way to say this so I’ll just spit it out. I got involved tonight because I was able to scent your sister from my backyard over eight miles away from where we met. Now, you’re a doctor. You tell me the only scenario in which that is possible.” Emmet was quiet, my heart hammering. “Dr. Y/L/N-”

“Are you a good man?” he asked. I sat down on a hall bench, glancing down.

“I’m divorced, I got ten years on her and a teenage daughter. I am by no means perfect. If she wants to go to Seattle, I will not stop her.” I crossed my arms, leaning back against the wall. “But I can promise you, she will be safe with me and free to live her life. I do not intend to hold her back.”

“I seriously doubt my sister’s going to want to leave your side once her heat calms down and she realizes who you are to her,” he said with a hum. “Sheriff.”

“Yes?”

“I’ll take my dad off your hands once he’s ready for in-home care. Let Y/N live in a town without him for a while.”

“What’s she like?” I asked, screwing professionalism for the moment. “You said she wanted to be an accountant?”

“Pft, god no. She would have worked at a bakery if she had her choice but you know how parents can be,” said Emmet. “You said your name was Beau, right?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Well Beau, considering this is likely the first of many conversations we’ll have throughout our lives, a word of advice. If she wants to work at a goddamn bakery, let her. If you guys ever need help, just tell me. I got more than enough. I just want my baby sister to be alright.” I smiled, relaxing my shoulders.

“I appreciate it Emmet but I do alright on my own. Like I said, I will not be the one holding her back from whatever it is she wants to do.” I could feel her scent pick up, twitchy, wanting me nearby. “I got to run but I appreciate the talk and I’m looking forward to meeting you. I’ll make sure she gets a chance to talk to you tomorrow.”

I hung up and slipped back in the room, pulling my chair closer, her scent calming. My phone dinged and I frowned. What the hell was Emily doing up at 2 in the morning?

How’s the soulmate search going? Pop says hi by the way. We ordered pizza. There’s leftovers in the fridge if you ever come home tonight. Please tell me you’re not stalking some woman in the middle of the night.

“This child,” I grumbled, typing a long message before my phone pinged again, eyebrows raised.

I can talk to her. I know more about being an Omega than you do to be fair. She’s probably scared. I can dig up those Change puberty books from the basement.

Thank you, Em. We’ll talk in the morning. Now get some sleep..

I frowned, shooting off another text.

Tell Pop if he eats all my mint fudge ice cream again I’m firing him.

Too late. Night dad!

I sighed, resting my phone on my chest and sliding down in the chair. I kicked off my boots and propped my feet up at the end of Y/N’s bed.

“So. Not how I imagined my first night with my soulmate,” I said quietly. “How about you, darlin’? Everything you dreamed of?”

She snored lightly in bed, rolling over on her side and staying in a deep slumber.

“Well don’t chat my ear off, I’m trying to sleep,” I chuckled. She scratched her belly absently, breathing deeply. “Goodnight, omega.”

The Next Day

Despite an albeit awkward start to the day, the smile on Y/N’s face as she and Emily shared the far side of the booth and devoured a brownie sundae was putting a big on on mine. Y/N hadn’t had much of anything besides basic foods for ten years and she was ordering every greasy, fatty, sugary thing on the menu.

It was kind of adorable the way she guzzled down a pile of poutine on her own and then asked for seconds.

“Is Y/N coming home with us?” asked Emily a little eagerly. I lightly kicked her shin under the table, Em pouting. “That’s child abuse.”

“Child abuse is you hitting me in the nuts with a baseball bat when you were four. Pretty sure you were trying to make sure you were an only child from the start.”

“I wouldn’t mind a sibling-“ I kicked her again, Emily glaring back. Y/N looked between us with a goofy smirk, gravy at the corner of her mouth.

“You guys are really cute. I wish I’d had that with my dad,” she said, her face falling momentarily. She cleared her throat though and wiped off her lips, glancing at me. “Your dad and I have to talk about a lot of things but in the meantime he said he had an idea about where I could stay. You guys have a trailer on your property?”

“Dad used to live in an air streamer when he moved here,” said Emily, smirking at me. “If you need a love nest-“

“Do not tell her about nesting,” I growled, Emily grinning like a Cheshire cat. Y/N blinked at both of us, her head tilting. I cleared my throat when I sensed her…fuck, she was horny as fuck.

Cool it with the Alpha voice bucko.

“Nesting is um, well…” I trailed off, Emily pipping right in.

“It’s when the Alpha goes all crazy and makes you a comfy bed with pillows and blankets and stuff so you can pass a heat surrounded by their scent. And to fuck in a lot but the scent stuff too.” I dropped my head to the table, a low whine escaping. “They teach us in health class.”

“In my health class all they did was show us pictures of STI’s,” said Y/N, her fingers grazing my scalp. I raised my head, heart skipping at the feel of her touch in my hair. Her face was so soft, so unlike the fearful one of last night. “Relax. I’m not going anywhere and Emily’s bluntness is appreciated.”

Emily glanced at Y/N and then myself, making an excuse to use the restroom. Y/N’s hand dropped to the table, a pout forming on my face. She giggled though, the sound calming me. “Can you…smell me, Y/N?”

“Sure,” she said coyly, laughing when I rolled my eyes. “I think so. I don’t quite understand it but I know you’re nervous. You like when Emily teases you but there’s something a little on edge with you. I’m still trying to figure all this out to be honest.”

“It’s okay,” I said, reaching a hand up and gently taking hers in mine. My thumb stroked over the back of her skin and I held it up, closer to her. “You won’t be able to do that with most people. Only your mate can you tell certain things. We don’t exactly understand that part of it yet.”

“I imagine it gets a bit complicated when you mix advanced evolution with metaphysical souls,” she said, tilting her head, turning my hand over and stroking my palm. Her big eyes stared at my skin, nose twitching when she inhaled. “Everything in my head says I’m a moron for trusting a strange man, that you could hurt me or worse. But then I do this…”

She tugged me closer, pulling my hand to her warm cheek, her skin velvety soft. Her bond pulsed hard under the skin of her neck, so subtle no one would notice but I could see it thumping away like it had it’s own heartbeat. Y/N’s eyes searched my face, looking for an answer to a question she didn’t know how to ask.

“There are some people that don’t believe in true mates. They think it’s just hopeless romantics making shit up,” I said, pulling my hand down, grazing her bond with my fingertips. Soft lips parted, Y/N’s eyes dewy at the touch. “Touch my neck.”

She tentatively reached across the table, letting me guide her hand to the left side. “My gland is much smaller but it’s there. Now push down on it.”

Y/N didn’t look convinced but gently nudged two fingers against the skin. I jerked back just as she did, a bolt of peacefulness shooting through my body. She rubbed her own gland, breathing hard. “What the fuck was that?”

“Think of it like there’s a rope connecting our souls. We just tugged on it,” I grinned, rubbing my chest. “So we can’t get lost from each other ever again. True mates form that bond even without the physical connection being met yet which is why you could tell I was nervous.”

Y/N smiled, placing a hand over her bond. “So that’s why you don’t feel so strange. Huh.”

“We can take this as slow as we want to,” I said, taking out my phone, checking the time. Y/N shoveled one last scoop of ice cream in her mouth before sliding out of the booth. “Where-“

“Emily has school in the morning. We should head out,” she said, catching Emily returning from the bathrooms. “We’ll meet you out front?”

“Y/N.” I hopped up quickly. Shit, was I making her nervous? I opened my mouth to speak but she was right there, placing a finger to my lips.

“It’s okay, sheriff,” she murmured, grazing her knuckles over my beard. “Just need a little girl talk.”

“About what?” I asked quietly.

“About…just trust me?” I held up my hands, Y/N backing away before popping outside with Em.

“Sheriff,” said a deep, monotone voice. I spun around, Donno standing there with a styrofoam box. “Rhubarb pie.”

“I didn’t order-“ Donno shoved it forward, my hands barely catching it.

“She wants it.” I raised my eyebrow, glancing outside to where Y/N and Emily were leaning against the truck. “She wanted pie and this is all we have.”

“Uh, thanks Donno,” I said. He half growled and I handed him my credit card. He grumpily took it behind the counter, handing it back with a grimace. “How’s things with Tonya?”

He grunted and I chuckled.

“Later, Donno. You and your girl stay out of trouble.” I ducked outside with the pie, the girls giving me a smile. “Everything all set?”

“Never better.”

“Hey, Em?” I asked after showing Y/N the airstreamer when we got home. She was downstairs talking to her brother, all sorts of giddy scents coming off her. “Got a sec?”

She put her phone down, frowning when I pushed it away and set it on the charger. “First off, it’s bedtime. Second, is everything okay with you and Y/N? I know everything’s been moving fast and if you want to talk about anything, I’m here.”

“We’re fine,” she said softly, giving me that look I’d seen in therapy too many times. I pouted, Em sighing. “She was…her body did something at the diner. She said you guys touched bonds which made her…you know…down there…”

“Oh.” I sat on the edge of her bed, holding my hands on my lap. “Was she embarrassed? I shouldn’t have-“

“No, she just wanted to make sure it was normal to…get all…slick and fuck, this is as bad as the sex talk.”

“I thought we did a good job with it,” I said, ruffling her hair. “Are you okay with her being here?”

“Duh,” she said, sitting upright and giving me a hug. “She’s your soulmate, dad. Of course, I want her to stay with us.”

I tucked her head under my chin, giving her a deep squeeze. “Dad. Too tight.”

“Alright,” I said, releasing her. “I’ll make sure Y/N understands you already have a mom and-”

“We kind of talked about that when you were paying.” Em shrugged. “Y/N said she didn’t want to overstep anything and said it’s probably best right now if we’re more like friends? Until we figure out what we want.”

“I’m going to have a hard time keeping up with you two staying ahead of me,” I chuckled, hearing a loud crash downstairs. I stood up, Em pouting. “Stay. Go to bed.”

She grumbled as I left and jogged down the steps. Y/N was bent over in the kitchen, her scent stressed but not in pain.

“Y/N?” I asked. She popped her head up, swallowing thickly as I saw she’d dropped her bottle of heat medication and the pills had gone all of the floor. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong?”

I knelt down and started to help pick them up, Y/N moving farther away to pick up the scattered pills. I reached out and caught her wrist, Y/N’s breath hitching. She looked over her shoulder, body tense.

“It was an accident,” I said softly. She looked down and I frowned. “Hey. I can smell you’re upset but we still need to talk. What’s going through that head? Did your brother say something?”

“No.” She shoved the pills in the bottle, waiting for me to deposit mine inside. The cap snapped on and she shot up, stepping past me for the front door. I caught up to her on the front porch, not touching her but holding up my hands. She squeezed her eyes shut, rubbing her temple. “Please move. Better yet, take me back to the cabin.”

“...If that’s where you want to be,” I said. She went straight to the truck, barefoot, climbing inside. I got in after her, leaving my keys in my pocket. I could sense her agitation rising, especially when I turned towards her. “What did your brother say, Y/N?”

“He told me he contacted my dad right after the change. How dad would call him every few years. He didn’t know I thought he was dead all this time,” she breathed out. She shook her head, wrapping her arms tight around herself. “You have an idiot for a soulmate.”

“Now I don’t believe that’s true for a second. I-”

“Beau.” Y/N glared at me but her eyes were more watery than anything else. “You have a teenage daughter that knows more about how sex works in this world than I do. I’m…a child. You deserve so much better than me. I’ve never had a real job. I’ve never had my own place. Shit, my longest relationship lasted two months. J-Just throw me back in the woods so I can be alone.”

Omega in pain. Omega in pain.

She moved as far away as possible, staring out the window as a primal urge in my head was trying to take over.

Protect her. PROTECT HER. Do your job.

“No.” She shifted in her sheet, making her eyes as hard as she could. “I don’t care if you hate me. I will never abandon you. Ever.”

“I’m a fucking project, not a soumate,” she scoffed.

“You think I’m perfect?”

“Um, have you met you because yes, you are,” she grit out. I growled, her scent shooting through the roof as I leaned over and cupped her cheek. Her lips parted, breath mingling with my own. “W-What are you doing?”

“I don’t like when you’re mean to yourself,” I said, my voice lower than usual as I kept a tight control on letting my Alpha out. Y/N shivered under my touch and she looked away embarrassed. “Don’t you dare be embarrassed for making slick. You are in heat next to your true mate. I’d be concerned if you weren’t.”

“I don’t know anything,” she whispered, still not looking at me. “I don’t know how to be an adult or have my soulmate be someone way out of my league or what you want me to be to Emily. You have an ex-wife and you have such an important job and you’re single dad and it doesn’t matter how nice you smell or if you give me lightning bolts. I am and will be a burden to you.”

I sat back in my seat, breathing hard. Y/N sniffled, keeping her head low. “I know I’ve upset you, I can smell it.”

“I’m upset you’re upset. I’m not upset at you,” I said quietly. Every instinct I had said pull her into my lap, bite her neck and press the magic fix it button to flood her full of so much ooey gooey good feeling crap she’ll never remember why she had doubts in the first place.

Talk to her.

I swallowed, closing my eyes. “My partner died two years ago. He was my best friend.”

“Beau.” She unfurled her hands from her body surely because one of them was interlacing with my own. “I’m so sorry.”

“I blamed myself for a long time. For too long. For something out of my control,” I said, opening my eyes, finding her misty ones. “It drove my ex away. It drove Emily away too for a while. I’m so scared of loving someone else and losing them. Y/N, it took everything in me to not kill those men that attacked you last night. I am not fucking perfect and you are way way too hard on yourself. News flash, nobody knows how to be an adult. We’re all just pretending and a smart woman like you, hell you already are thinking of my daughter before I am. You are not behind. You are right where you’re supposed to be.“

“I…” She sighed, squeezing my hand. “I’m sorry that happened to your friend.”

“Did you get any of the rest of that?”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “So we both need to take it easier on ourselves.”

“I got faith in us.” She wiped off her face as she nodded, her scent turning calm and gentle. “Come on. It’s been a long day and you’re at the tail end of your heat. You need to get some rest.”

“Dad!” I bottled upright in bed, groggy and reaching for my gun when Emily burst in the bedroom. “It’s almost seven. Move your ass. I’m not getting detention for being late again because of you.”

“Good morning to you too,” I mumbled, setting my gun back on the bedside table and flopping back against the pillows.

“Pro tip,” she said, whacking me with a pillow. I groaned, growling as I sat back up. “Maybe go make you and your new omega girlfriend some coffee? Not like she talked about coffee for like a solid thirty minutes with your coffee snob ass last night.”

“Someone’s got a mouth on her this morning,” I said, tossing back the covers, Em rolling her eyes as she left. “What?”

“I’m so going to be late,” she muttered, jogging downstairs. I grumbled, padding into the bathroom and getting ready for the day. Em was in a mood when I found her by the front door waiting for me but it was no big deal to me if she was late a few minutes. For one, that school started too damn early at 7:30. She had freaking study hall first period of the day which was just plain stupid. Plus that principal of hers had more than a few unpaid parking tickets I could leverage.

I whipped up a cup of coffee and poured the rest in my thermos, tossing some half and half in the mug before whistling on my way outside. “Dad!”

“Five minutes, pumpkin. Why don’t you lock up and I’ll meet you at the truck?” I slipped outside, Em muttering again as I walked across the yard. WIth two knocks on the door of the airstream, it opened, Y/N half-asleep as she answered in last night’s clothes. “Good morning, gorgeous.”

“You’re lucky you’re hot,” she mumbled, perking up when I held out an orange mug. “Is that-”

“Coffee. Two tablespoons half & half. Hold the cream and sugar.” Her eyes welled up as she took the mug. “You really missed coffee, huh?”

“You were paying attention to what I said last night,” she whispered. I cocked my head, leaning my hip against the door jam. “Thank you for the coffee, Beau. I really appreciate it.”

“No worries.” The truck horn honked and I rolled my eyes, Y/N smirking. “I have to run before that one hotwires the car without me but I’ll be back and we can go shopping for whatever you need. Food. Clothes. Whatever you want. I’ll be back in about thirty.”

“Thanks, Alpha.” She stepped forward and pecked a kiss to my cheek, grinning when I blushed. “That’s adorable.”

“I’m from Texas. We don’t blush,” I said despite feeling the radiating heat on my face. She raised an eyebrow, her smile turning a hair darker. “Omega…”

“You know that only makes me want to find out how to make you blush more, right?” I pouted but didn’t mean it, Y/N seeing right through it. “All that for a peck on the cheek. I wonder how red I can get you when I properly kiss you.”

“Down girl,” I purred, adjusting myself and in desperate need of one of my scent blockers again. “Let’s cool our jets. Once we start playing around, it’s going to be hard for either one of us to not want to bond.”

“Sorry,” she said, not looking it one bit. She pressed the mug to her lips, eyes closing as she took her first sip. “Wow. Yeah, I’m so keeping you. This is the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had.”

“Well that’s a relief,” I chuckled, the horn honking incessantly in the background. “I’m sorry about the sassy child.”

“It’s fine. Take her to school. I’ll be here.”

“I’ll be right back, darlin’.”

Four Weeks Later

Y/N was tucked against my side, resting her head on my shoulder and draping her arm over my chest. Soft, slow breaths left her lips, nose buried against my pec. Oh so carefully I thumbed over the fresh bite mark on her neck. Ordinarily I’d think the best thing to do would be not touch it but instinct was telling me to gently soothe the ache away and her pain would be gone by the time the flood of hormones in her body dropped.

“How we feeling, Omega?” Y/N tightened her hold on my body, snuggling harder.

“Fuzzy,” she mumbled, a smile on her lips. “You?”

“Fuzzy’s a good way to describe it,” I chuckled. “You did so well.”

“Not so bad yourself,” she laughed, eyes closing. “You smell even nicer now if that’s possible.”

“I know the feeling.” I stroked my fingers up and down her bare back, tracing patterns against the soft flesh. “So…would you maybe want to move into the house?”

“You really know how to pillow talk, babe,” she said against my shoulder, smirking against it. “And yes, I’m tired of being away from you guys.”

“Okie dokie.” Y/N snorted, lifting herself up onto her palms to look at me. “What?”

“You’re way too hot to be that adorable.” I shrugged, smirking as I gripped her waist and pulled her tight against my chest, earning a gasp. “Oh you want to play?”

“With you? Forever.” I grasped her chin with my thumb and finger, pulling her into a deep kiss. “Who’s ready for round two?”

Three Months Later

“Emmet!” Y/N squealed and jumped into her brothers arms the second I had the front door open. He laughed deeply, dropping his luggage on the porch to catch her.

“Fuck Y/N, I’m forty six years old. You’re going to throw out my back if you keep doing that every time I visit,” he laughed, spinning her around. “How you doing, kiddo? Keeping your Alpha in line?”

“She wishes,” I said, giving him a brief hug when he set her down. “Where’s Max?”

“She’s coming up on Saturday. Covering a double at the hospital,” said Emmet, giving Emily a hug when she popped out of the kitchen. “Em, mind helping me get the presents?”

She threw on her coat and boots, following Emmet outside as I saw Y/N’s father putter around their rental car. Emmet said something to him, the man giving Emily a brief smile before he carefully walked across the shoveled driveway.

“Darren.”

“Beau.” Y/N frowned at him, his jaw clenching when he saw the faded mark on her neck. “Emmet’s right. You really did claim her.”

Y/N stepped onto the porch, waves of powerful scent washing over us. “This is my house, dad. If you’re going to be a dick, you can go sit in a hotel room by yourself for a week while the rest of us celebrate the holidays. As a pack. Beau’s family is coming in tomorrow and you will not-“

“Down omega,” I purred, Y/N allowing me to pull her back a few steps. “She’s a tad defensive of me and Emily is all. Darlin’, why don’t you help the Em’s.”

A moment later Darren and I were alone. I nodded, walking him around the wrap around porch to the side of the house where a pair of rocking chairs sat. I took a seat in the far one, Darren hesitantly sitting in the opposite.

“Y/N and I like to sit out here in the morning and have our coffee together.” Darren grunted, lips pressed into a thin line. “How’s the leg?”

“It hurts,” he grumbled.

“But you can walk on your own on it. Emmet says that’s a good sign.” He leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Arlen, enough with the small talk. Say what you mean to say away from my daughter.” I leaned back, rocking a few times, enjoying the chill breeze.

“Your daughter didn’t want you to come. The only reason you are invited is because I asked her to give you another chance.” He scoffed. “You were pretty nasty when we showed up at rehab a few months ago and saw she was claimed.”

“You manipulated her into being with you. She doesn’t know it yet but you’ll turn on her. I know cops like you, especially cop mutts. Don’t blame me for seeing exactly who you are.”

“Well fuck you,” said Emily, appearing around the corner.

Back off, pup. I got this.

Only she ignored the warning in my scent, the clear line she would have picked up in favor of storming over in front of Darren. “You’re an asshole.”

“Em-”

“The mouth on you,” said Darren, frowning up at her. “You learn that from your father?”

“If anyone’s the manipulative asshole around here maybe it’s the guy who scared his kid into staying in a cabin for a decade,” she spit out. Darren opened his mouth, Emily holding up a hand. “My dad’s not perfect but thank god I have him. Bad stuff happened to both of us but he doesn’t keep me locked up. So maybe stop being an ass to the guy that makes Y/N happy for the first time in ten years.”

“Emily,” I said as she started to walk away. “Em!”

“Ground me but I am not apologizing,” she said, walking off back around the corner. I sighed, side eyeing Darren.

“You know what, you say and think what you want about me but don’t you dare speak ill of my daughter,” I said. “She has been through more shit than you could ever know so do not blame her for being defensive of her family which includes your daughter.”

I stood, putting my hands on my hips, looking out over the barren yard, a light layer of snow dusting it.

“It’s not personal,” said Darren after a beat. “I’d hate any man that tried to take her away. I’ve hated all of her ex’s.”

“I know something about having a daughter that was kidnapped.” I turned over my shoulder, Darren’s face paling. “You didn’t keep her safe. You squashed her. From the moment I met your daughter, I’ve had to help her learn that she can have goals and dreams of her own. She lived her whole life trying to appease you. She will never do that with me. Never. So I understand the fear and pain of dealing with your little girl being taken and feeling like a failure as a father. But we have to let them go because our little girls are a lot stronger than us fathers give them credit for. Let them show us. The only person my kid mouths off with is me, her mother, and Y/N. Her parents. For her to do that just now means you really ticked her off. So stop protecting Y/N for one second and get to know that strong kid of yours.”

He was quiet, no words spoken between us as he rose.

“Your daughter reminds me of Y/N when she was younger.”

“Em adores Y/N…aside when Y/N goes mom mode and makes Em do her chores,” I chuckled. Darren cleared his throat. “The girls are still figuring out their roles but Y/N’s gotten more comfortable stepping into that parental role. They’re friends more than anything. Family.”

“Right,” he said quietly. “How angry is Y/N with me?”

“Oh, pretty mad,” I laughed. “She’ll forgive you eventually. Probably. I’d stop calling her mate a manipulative mutt, though. Might help out there just a tad.”

He lowered his head with a nod. “Let’s go in before you freeze.”

“Alpha,” Y/N murmured from beside me in bed late that night. I had my face shoved into the crook of her neck, arms bundled under her maroon sweatshirt, formerly our sweatshirt, formerly formerly my sweatshirt. “Noooo, get your greedy hands away from my fleece.”

“No can do, darlin’,” I murmured, arms shoved under the soft material, her eyes narrowing. “I’m not going to cop a feel.”

“Sure you won’t,” she teased. “We can play in a minute. Real talk right now.”

“What’s up?” I asked, wrapping my arms around her waist, lifting my head. Her fingers raked through my hair, massaging my scalp. I hummed, resting my chin on her shoulder.

“I don’t know what you said to my dad earlier but thank you. He was different.”

“Well, Emily should really get the credit. She stole my thunder,” I said, Y/N’s scent swirling around the room. “Our girl really loves you, you know.”

She flushed, smiling when I kissed her jaw. “Thank you both then.”

“You’re welcome. Now,” I said, grabbing the ends of the sweatshirt, pushing them up her body. “I think you stole this.”

“Going to arrest me for it?” she murmured, pulling me into a chaste kiss before rolling to the far edge of the bed and out of my grasp. She sat up with a fake pout, batting her eyes as I crawled over. “That’s a good look for you, Alpha. On all fours for me.”

“For fucks sake, Omega,” I growled, grabbing her ankle and yanking her body underneath mine as she giggled. “What am I going to do with you?”

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something, Alpha Boy.” I laughed into her neck, kissing over her healed mark.

“For you, Omega, anything at all.”

___________

#beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #beau x reader #alpha!beau x omega!reader #big sky #beau arlen fanfic #big sky fanfic #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x female reader

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ms0milk · 3 months

Text

pitch in a teapot

sanemi x inn keeper

reader has a business to run and sanemi can't help but watch you do it well, barking orders, teaching firmly, smiling and scurrying around like a fancy little bell. There's something he's been trying to get out of you all afternoon but chores keep stealing you away. cw MDNI, frustrated thunderstorm quickie, reader w vagina + penetration, slight manhandling, desperation and a little bit of sass. 4.1k

thank you so much my darling @neiptune for requesting a little sanemi this @ficsforgaza season! you were so generous and patient waiting for this to come out, I hope you enjoy angel

Six bowls of soup upstairs and an old man somewhere in the bowels of the inn with a limp and half a shoe. Right, okay, send two girls to the garden– no. One to the garden and one to the kitchen. That’s dinner taken care of as long as the scholar with the fat pony– donkey, maybe– doesn’t regurgitate an encore of the rakugo performance that couldn’t have been funny in the first place.

You roll the sleeves of your apron slightly tighter in their tasuki. The cyprus walls of your inn bleed fragrance before summer thunderstorms so you make a mental note too, to order storm doors for the second floor before the clouds go black and blue. Incensed breeze, juniper, wisteria, paper windows, one foot, the next, again, each step down the wooden hallway is a quiet knock. Each summer at home is heavier, heavier, and this year is the flood.

“Oi.”

“Not my name,” you blow from the corner of your mouth without changing pace. That breath was ready to jump off your lip before the demon slayer even called out to you; he hates doing nothing and hates even more what great pains your staff take to avoid his room.

“It reeks.”

“Excuse me?” You huff and this time do turn enough to interrogate him via glare. Sanemi, ridiculous, folds his arms in the doorway of a very nice room, a too nice room, without any of the appropriate embarrassment of someone who has been lying in wait. The stippled blue pattern of his robes doesn’t suit him. They clash with his ugly scars and uglier attitude but don't keep him from wearing the chest wide open like a well paid rent boy.

“Stinks.”

“Whatever of, princess?”

He growls and drops his arms as you brace for the lecture, “Demons.”

His heart is incapable of peace and yours with it, and every summer he’s assigned a post in your mountains by a master you’ve never met and who couldn’t possibly be sane themself. Four years of this. Four years of twelve weeks of sixteen-hour-days of the world’s most neurotic demon slayer.

“The whole property is wide open for any fuck to attack.”

You adjust your grip on a slender bucket handle and the cloth in your other arm and continue back downhall, “You always say that.”

“I’m always right,” he nags and pushes free of his bedroom.

You met Sanemi when you were sixteen and still working under your parents. He was a brand new hashira then and prone to fist fights, spitfire, bloodshed. Nothing special. Nothing new. Hashira come and die and new hashira come again. They arrive in flashbangs and ego and leave like everyone else, in pieces.

Your parents were calm, they had peace and practice, they ran this inn, they welcomed Sanemi with his summer floods. They loved him, took his counsel and died by it, and they probably wouldn’t have lost an old man inside the house. But this is your inn now. They aren’t here anymore and at your inn sometimes old men get misplaced.

“And what would you like me to do about all that, sir?”

The hashira keeps an easy military pace behind you, “The gardens need to be reinforced and–”

“Nine acres of wisteria arbor need reinforcement? Yeah I’ll get right on that.”

“The storm will take out ha–!”

“And the other half will hold until autumn. Go berate the kitchen staff for their unpreparedness– they’re all unarmed you know? Totally unprofessional.”

“Y/n–”

“Shinazugawa,” you spin and it all comes out as a threat, a hiss, instead of just a whisper so much so that the water in your bucket nips up your sleeve. “I am the lady of this establishment and you will not address me so familiarly.”

Dark cyprus, cool hallways, the undeniable scent of thunder. Sanemi rests his hand on his sword to glare like he does when his hands don’t quite know what to do with themselves. His eyes roam, quiet under long lilly lashes until they have traced the shapes your tasuki makes with your waist and rise again to your gaze. “We’re not fucking finished.”

“Go eat,” you snap and turn back down the hallway, red at the ears. Lady of the establishment, great job.

Feet aren’t complicated, bone to tendon, tendon to muscle, muscle to skin, one step and another. You tilt your head back and an eager girl rises to wipe sweat from your temple.

“Like this,” you hum and tilt the old man’s heel in your palm. He winces but lets you continue while the girl stares on. “When the skin is split like this it can’t receive moisture– sorry sir, better?” You set his foot on the hammock of cloth between your thighs, “So you need to soak it first before applying salve. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” the girl parrots, still unable to look away.

“Yes.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You smile through an eye roll but gesture for her to come sit beside you. You’ve been like this since he’s met you, too old for your body.

You’ll train anyone who asks, hire any runaway girl, absorb the cost of thieves when runaways are exactly that, and you will wash old men’s feet before eating dinner with the self preservation of a samurai. Famously long-lived, those. Sanemi has to look away when you take scissors to the gnarled yellow nails and almost covers his ears when your pupil starts asking you questions about it.

“Feels good right?” You chuckle at the man’s response to your ministrations, and then a little louder, when you realize just how seriously the girl beside you is trying to focus. Birdsong. “Do you have companions on your pilgrimage, sir?” He shakes his head.

You lean away again so the girl can dab your brow and push back stray hairs and turn back to explain overdetailed care instructions to this man who is obviously so embarrassed he can’t hear a word you’re saying. Something about tallow and socks, Sanemi tries to read the syllables off your lips and loses focus the second time your teeth catch damp and pillowed pink.

The man seated in front of you grumbles some and flexes a few fingers around his cane like old men do, but doesn’t protest your instructions. He nods instead of thanking you like a real tough guy.

“Fetch a new pair of sandals from the garden shed,” you instruct your girl who bolts up and out the door past Sanemi without so much as a breath. “And you,” you turn back to your patient, “keep the nails short, you hear?”

He nods again, increasingly avoidant of eye contact. Sanemi tenses in the dark outside the guest’s complimentary room and hates ungrateful fucks enough for both of you.

“And don’t skip any more meals.”

The man’s wrinkled skin unfolds at his eyes and he pulls his legs back underneath him. You dry your hands after scrubbing clean in a soapy pot and stand to collect your tools. “I couldn’t find you this evening and I hate to lose track of my guests at mealtime.”

You are going to feed every stray you find until the economy collapses. Peasant monks, pickpockets– you’d put up a demon if its stomach growled. After too many unnoticed minutes watching you, following the white x between your patterned shoulders, eating your voice, warming the hallway, you finally pick out Sanemi’s eyes in the dark behind the sliding door. He’s waiting for you. You clear your throat for the broke old pilgrim one last time, “You don’t owe any money. Do not skip meals.” And bid him a wordless good night. The door cracks shut behind you. It isn’t late enough for sunset. Thunderstorms make it so dark so quickly and they mask the scent of blood with all their rain and iron. “What is it?” You deadpan and shuffle towards the stairs with all the confidence in the world a tenured hashira will work to keep up with you.

“Not fucking finishied with you,” Sanemi grunts, working to keep up with you. The apron over your service kimono forces your hips to sway in tight little circles and Sanemi sucks his teeth. He doesn’t look away.

Through the hallway and down the servant stairs, socks on polished wood, you tap, tap, tap nimbly to your next assignment. The room below radiates heat and life. “What do you want?” you whisper.

“I–” he slips barefoot on the slick last step into the kitchen and you stumble in your newly damp right sock. “Euh, I–”

“Mimiko!”

“Lady?”

“Wet.” You point behind you, palming Sanemi out of the way, and a free washerwoman dives for the spot with the rag tucked into her belt. The kitchen rages silently in the easternmost corner of the mansion; men and women sweat over donabe, rinse their body weights in rice, and beat little fires with littler fans. Two women and a boy linger just outside the paper door in clothes that match yours for formality and Sanemi assumes as he weaves through the bustle, that they are responsible for bringing food to customers and for doing everything they can not to sweat through their pretty borrowed uniforms. Your own kimono is purple tonight, a cool little shape bobbing nimbly between flames.

Sanemi opens his mouth to shout after you and shuts it again just as quickly to grind his teeth instead as you lift your apron over your head. You let a girl feed you a spoonful of something on your way out of the room and she wiggles when you nod several times before ducking through the door.

Laundry next, then a double check of the firewood cache and the whole while Sanemi occupies your shadow. A few times you hiss over your shoulder at him for looking so gruff, for looking like a bodyguard, for making your customers imagine your distrust of them, always you bite back before he can get more than a few words out but mostly you just scurry in preparation for the storm picking up warm wind outside.

You avoid the entrance with him so close in tow, armed and obstinate, but make a show of circling both tatami halls where guests come after dinner on rainy nights to stretch and smoke by the brazier with strangers. A female musician trills her koto. The sky hasn’t let loose a single drop of rain yet but wet hangs like a fog and thunder scents the air ahead of its arrival. As Sanemi trails the outer walkway of the mansion behind you, the sky bleeds with the last of day’s light in the cracks between bruised and racing storm clouds.

“Second floor secure?” You confirm with the men slotting thick panels into grooves where paper doors usually go. They nod in their white uniforms. Beyond the porches, beyond the east garden and its fat green vegetables, beyond dogwood trees and sarusuberi and maples that have begun to tremble violently in winds buffeted by humidity and nightfall, the wisteria arbor glows. You radiate a cool purple pull beside him just like your flowers.

The arbor surrounds the property on all sides for half a mile and all three paths away from the house are barred by gates of twisting wisteria vine. The inn belongs to your family, but does not serve Ubuyashiki. Theirs is not the only house that discovered a use for these flowers. Yours is not the only wisteria business in the country.

“Do you see that?” You murmur at so much the same tone as the wind that Sanemi almost cannot hear you.

Three years ago he left before the end of summer, called away to investigate a massacre nearby. A tree fell that season. It crushed a straight path through the edge of the mountain forest and onto your property where, lured by so much blood and wine, a pair of sister demons descended through the broken orchard and devoured everyone who wasn’t fast enough to hide in the flowers like the slayer suggested they should in an emergency. Your parents evacuated the house and died in it with the guests who couldn’t walk on their own. Nestled under three braided vines at the far edge of the property, you listened to them die.

The winds kick up sand from your vegetable garden and you step off the porch into the start of the storm. Tiny and purple. “Y/n!” Sanemi lunges for you. His sword whips the meat of his thigh and you step out of his way before he can grab any part he intended to. The men on the porch watch you both scramble through the backyard. You snap at the strange guest and duck when he swings a hand towards you, hop in your sandals when he tries to trip you into his arms and dart away like a dragonfly.

“Get back here!”

“Go inside!”

“Y/n!”

“How dare you!”

“Motherfucking, Y/n!”

“That’s enough!” You bark and twist back towards the garden shed. Your pupil left the door wide open and all its shining tools caught your eye across the yard. Sanemi was staring when you stepped outside. His eyes feel like beads of sweat on the few bare parts of you. His gaze is all teeth on the back of your neck.

With all but one storm door up, not a single guest can hear the ruckus you two kick up outside in the prologue of the storm. “It’s about to pour!”

“Then go join the other guests!” You shout through a particularly violent breeze and you have to grip to the break in your kimono closed. He does not. By the time you lay a winded hand on the wall of the shed, it has started to rain.

A silencing wall of water falls from the back of the property straight towards you. It kills dust clouds in its path and paints every surface soaked in a perfectly straight line. Sanemi rushes from behind and nearly lifts you off your feet to get inside the shed as you watch the supernatural army advance on your home.

“Shit,” he grumbles and winces when the rain overcomes the little shed and splashes off the pavement into his face. He pulls you deeper inside and you jolt. The first crack of thunder is a scream that shakes the ground, “Scared of thunder now?”

“Scared of my profit margins, you oaf.”

Under his shoulder you are glaring at the storm between this shitty stuffy shed and your business. You are so small and wrapped so tightly in layer after layer of fabric. It must be hot. The damp drips down his open chest and thighs, it frizzes his hair at his ears. You must be sweating somewhere in that formal getup. Wet glistens at the curled little hairs on the back of your neck where the skin is just barely visible and it sparkles under your high collar.

“I can’t walk back inside soaked,” you groan, “there’s not enough time to change before final rounds.”

Sanemi takes his hand off his sword. There must be damp parts of you hiding from him. He brushes his knuckle up the bare skin of your neck, across your throat, and you falter slightly.

“Sanemi–”

“Nuh uh, don’t address me so familiarly,” he smirks and cups your cheek in his big hand when you jerk around.

“That’s not–!”

“Not what?” He smiles now, and drops his hand back to his sword so that you might find your own weapon and finish the fight. Four years of this.

You shove a finger into his chest, “You’re such a clingy fuck Shinazugawa,” and shout a little because you know the thunder will hide it. A sudden gust blows the sheet of rain sideways and straight inside the open door of the garden shed, up your dress and down his robes and through your prettily pinned hair. “Y/n this, y/n that, I’m busy Sanemi, I’m stuck in a shed! You’re the only one who calls me and people think we’re fucking! You want my attention you have it so please tell me all about the demons that’re gonna slurp up my customers and fuck my taxes to shit and–”

The door creaks in Sanemi’s hands even through the oceanic sounds of storm when he begins to close it. He nods as you get louder, nods as he slides the door closed and flicks the latch.

“Do not,” you growl, “there’s five thousand–”

“Five thousand little bitches in there lost without direction? They’re fine, Y/n.”

“Don’t call me that here.”

“They’ll survive, little lady.”

You spit, “not better.” And the new humidity of the closed shed begins to swallow you whole. It fills your throat. “What about all the demons you’ve been crying about?”

“You’re such a cocky cuss.”

“And you’re needy,” you taunt. It’s Sanemi’s turn to wince and his frustration starts to drip from all those places he shoves it away from you. He's been gentle with you since that summer. He lets you interrupt him, he follows where you go. “I watched you check perimeters this morning, you don’t need to talk to me about demons.”

“Eyes everywhere huh?” His throat is pink, “Lady of the house.”

You grin and pull him by the loops of his robe into your tiny purple kiss, “Shut up.”

“M’lady,” he growls against your lips and succumbs.

Four years of stolen touches, lips on damp summer skin, coming out of empty rooms too ruffled and pulling the hashira between your legs without disturbing the folds of your work kimono. “Don’t call me that either,” your breath hisses against his throat like an iron and he drops his sword quickly to gather you in his arms.

Too much fabric. Shovels and shears clatter against the floor and one another when the thunder shakes their little house again, and they tremble at every thump and roll of your body against Sanemi’s. He pulls your hips against his and guides your legs around his waist so he can sink into those soft parts of you. So he can tilt his head back to look up at you, so you can pour your kisses down his throat like wine.

You drag your nails up the back of his head when he offers his tongue to your lips, biting, suckling, drawing out gentle sounds and eating them before they compete with the rain outside. Where his hips dig into your own the folds of your skirt fall apart. Legs that glisten with sweat and rain part nicely for him and his own robes grow clingy with exertion where he grinds hard against you. Every subtle roll breaks your concentration in kisses, in lips sliding, begging with salvia and rainwater. His hands cup your cheeks, thighs, the collar of your kimono shudders open for him when he dips to suck bruises under your jaw and the swordsman’s hand loses control as he grips your belt to free you from all this formality. He’ll press crescents into your breasts, he’ll lower his tongue through your peach sweet folds and drink until you cry– but you pull his head back with a sharp yank of your wrist.

Your breath comes in clouds. The inn glows with candlelight across the yard but the light through the shed’s window is too weak. Welts of lighting illuminate the flush of your chest and cheeks. Two seconds of bright and twelve of dark warmth, shaking swirling thunder and then only rain. Sweat rolls from your temples and into the depths of your kimono. It’s been days since he’s had you like this and longer since you’ve had true privacy, others a whole yard away.

You can’t be gone long, he knows. Staff watched you race in here together, watched him shut the door, he knows he knows, he just can’t put you down yet. He leans in for another kiss and you let him fall close enough for his chest to crush yours before pulling back on his hair again.

“Y/n,” he’s suddenly not above begging but you hold his gaze tight. You watch him as your hand slips between the place your bodies meet. Pretty fingers reach for the heat between his legs. Pretty knuckles ghost over the swell of his robes and draw the fabric aside instead of ordering he bring you back inside. Sanemi’s cock perks up in free air as high as this position will let it and rests heavy under the swell of your ass.

He kisses you again, toothy and smiling and when you kiss him back your sharpest teeth clink together. He ruts into your desperation against the wall, harder than the rain, harder than the wind that threatens to blow your shed away and you with it. Obviously he wouldn’t let it but the thought that nature might be jealous of the rumple you made of each other drives him harder against you. Slipping, cock hard and suddenly shifted up against the hair under your belly. Peach fuzz yields to warm slick and Sanemi drops his head to your chest when he shudders to avoid whimpering into your mouth. He slips through your folds with a tight hold still under your thighs and drags himself up, down, up, hypnotized always by the faces you make when you’re trying to keep quiet.

The scars across his body are forever numb, but when your clammy hands paw is his chest he swears he can smell color. He can touch light when you pull his face back to yours frantically, when your hips with all their fabric flowing off of them buck sloppily against his, when he thrusts once deeply inside of you and forces a broken gasp from the back of your throat.

Before you can catch your breath your lips have crashed against his and his hips against yours. Sanemi keeps the relentless, restless, starving pace you like and knows he’ll last only the next few minutes before the worst of the storm blows over. Again and again he carves a palace for himself inside of you. You guide him with the falter of your kisses when he finds that perfect spot and with the slick that coats both of your thighs. Your voice escapes you in choked whimpers, his name comes out in hiccups. You’re a little bell in his arms folded in half and singing for him.

Again and again, out and so deep back inside, Sanemi’s feet grip the floor as he plunges his hips into yours and both of your bodies into the swelling wood walls. His rhythm staggers as you flutter around him and with his head against your shoulder he watches the circles you draw on your clit with the tips of four clumsy fingers as your other hand muffles your voice. He grabs that quieting wrist without thinking and without taking his eyes off the place your bodies connect with lewd squelches and sticky white threads. His threatening grip, his thick cock and your fingers push you right over the lip of your pleasure and fluttering becomes milking spasms quicker than Sanemi can think to treat you gently. That half-sobbing voice he loves so much cheers him towards his own climax and the more sensitive you grow the easier it is to coax those sounds out of you that you try to keep hidden, “Don’t– don’t be so quiet.”

“Inside,” you whisper in reply and draw his face into your hands as his pounding stutters in pace and loses all flow completely under your dreamy gazes. Sanemi can’t keep his eyes open when he cums. His pretty lilly lashes flutter with lost concentration. He shudders, ruts you deeper into the wall and groans with release as he fills those swollen wet parts of you. Warmth pools in your belly and trickles off his cock still buried. Sweat falls like the rain outside.

“Wanna taste,” Sanemi rumbles without setting you down or stilling his thrusts fully. He nuzzles somehow farther into the dip of your collarbones. Soft snow white hair, a heartbeat in the fingers that grip you. Every twitch of his hips is a starving ache.

“C'mon,” you grin, “dinner’ll get cold.”

“Let me taste you.”

“Sanemi, what will I eat if you eat me?”

“Have a few ideas,” he smiles back through the trembling of the shed in encores of thunder and gale. A leak tip tap tip taps nearby. Four years of this, maybe more.

#love this guy #think he gets whipped easily #ego free whipping he doesnt even struggle with it #total tunnel vision #sanemi x reader #ficsforgaza #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader

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hometoursandotherstuff · 2 months

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1875 hacienda style home in Lamy, NM. I can't believe it's that old! The 3bd, 4ba home has a pending sale for $1.2M. It looks like a motel, doesn't it?

Enter a large entrance hall.

Lovely fireplace in the living room.

The home has lots of interesting details.

Both of these details are in the living room.

Brightly pained niche, too.

Chippy stained glass doors open to a bath. Note the interesting ceiling.

There's another sitting room and fireplace in here, plus a dining area.

Lovely dining space has a built-in adobe banquette, and a beautifully detailed ceiling.

Here's a beautiful hand painted tile picture.

The bright kitchen is full of tile details. Cute island houses the dishwasher.

The primary bedroom is gigantic with a sitting area, fireplace, and room to spare.

Walk-in closet/dressing room.

Very large bath with lovely black accents, including the cute vintage tub and sink vanities. A double shower with glass block is in the corner.

This bedroom is a large size and features a window ledge and built-in shelf.

The baths are so roomy. Love the turquoise wood and the bowl sink, plus the nice tile shower and the cement counter.

None of the bedrooms are small and they're so full of light.

This bath has gorgeous tile.

And, this room is being used as an art studio. It's so neat, though.

Each bath is so different and so beautiful. Isn't that unusual, a tiled vanity with doors and drawers.

Lovely sun room.

Outdoor covered porch with a fireplace.

The yard is very large.

The lot measures 2.18 acres. Wow, in the 1800s when this was built, it must've really been no-man's land.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/5-La-Otra-Vanda-B-Lamy-NM-87540/71192710_zpid/?

#haciendas #spanish style homes #adobe houses #houses #house tours #home tour

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ihazyourkitty · 5 months

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Hogle Zoo is an AZA accredited facility, opening up a new area 3 acre area called "Wild Utah" to feature various native Utah species. 3 of those animals are going to be orphaned cougar cubs that were rescued and unable to survive in the wild on their own.

Note that 2 of these cubs have shortened ears and tails because of frostbite. They were rescued in Nebraska where the weather conditions were severe, and again, these cubs were unequipped to handle it on their own.

This would be a very positive story about giving orphaned cubs a second chance at a good place where they will receive all the care that they need... or so you would think.

Instead, multiple people on the comments were asserting that they were just going to prisons, one even going so far as to say that it would've been better to just let them die.

Wonderful. Nothing says "I love animals" than explicitly saying that they're better off dead than at an accredited zoo. Again, you will note that 2 of the 3 were suffering things like frostbite when they were rescued. There is nothing humane about letting animals that are within your power to help die like that.

I cannot, and will never, understand the "logic" behind this kind of mindset. Yes, baby orphaned animals die in nature all the time. No, we cannot save them all. But for those we can help... why not help them? And why is a life well cared for at an accredited zoo somehow worse for them than suffering a slow and painful death from starvation and exposure?

These animals do not have the same concepts of freedom vs. prison like we do. All they knew was that their mother is gone, and they were cold and starving.

Yes, bad or less than ideal zoos exist. Hogle Zoo is not one of them. Zoos and aquariums are not universally prisons, and if you think that, then let me just ask... what kind of prisons have you been to!? Seriously, all of the animals I've had the privilege to work with eat better than I do, and are treated vastly better than human prisoners are. How privileged must you be to think that all zoos and prisons are equivalent to one another!

Here's the reality: the zoological industry is a complex, nuanced thing that is ever improving and expanding. We're not stuck in the 1970s like you are. Stop judging animal welfare based on vibes, and stop drinking the PETA, HSUS et al. kool aid, because they're lying to you.

#pro zoo #anti-captivity kills #rescued animals are not better off dead #I have no respect for the better-off-dead-than-fed mindset #I said what I said #zoos are not prisons #vibes do not make you animals experts

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the-soliloquies-of-sadists · 10 months

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#381

“Wakey wakey. Time to wake up…. Don’t try to move around too much. As you are realizing, you are in a predicament. You are lying in my basement, buck naked, tied up, gagged, collared, with a fuck pillow under your pelvis. You ain’t going anywhere, anytime soon….

“We’ve never met, but we know each other. We both do the same thing for work, but we are nothing alike. This is what’s happening. I am part of a nameless organization that takes faggots, trains them to be slaves, and sells them to buyers from around the world. From what I’ve been told over the years, the faggots delivered to me want to drop off the grid and sold into slavery. They turn themselves in to a collector, who then has them delivered to me. I don’t know if that’s true as I don’t let any of the faggots talk other than to say, ‘Yes Sir!’

“Now for you, I was told your backstory. It seems that you are a collector for a different kind of group. I train fags who offer themselves up for the taking. You seem to prefer the non-consensual abductions of twelve- to fifteen-year-old girls. I don’t care that you prefer pussy over dicks, but I do draw the line with their age.

“As I said, I was told what you are. That never happens. Ever. But it appears that you approached the ten-year-old niece of one of higher ups in the organization, and he recognized what and who you were. That stupid move brought you here.

“I have no idea who the higher up is nor do I care. Hell, we don’t know any of the men that are in the other parts of my organization, let alone hear from them. So I found it surprising to get a call from a higher up—who I haven’t heard from in a few years—that I am to train you personally. You better fucking believe that I’m going to train the fuck out of you.

“I have been training faggots for nearly forty years. This is my farm you are on. Twelve hundred acres. Twelve hundred acres with some of the most advanced surveillance and anti-escape deterrents. I know of every person who steps foot on my property, and I know if a slave is ten feet away from where it is supposed to be. The ankle cuffs, wrist cuffs, and collar have tracking devices in them. The collar can deliver a shock to keep you in line at a moment’s notice. And the ankle cuffs are set up that if you go beyond a certain perimeter, a numbing agent is injected causing your legs to go numb and become useless. Escape is not possible. In my twenty years at this location, I have only had one slave make it off property, but it was collected within three minutes of doing so. That slave was brought back and tortured in front of all the other slaves as a deterrent. And that was before all the tracking technology was put in. So keep that in mind if you decide to do something stupid.

“Now,… for the past five minutes, I have been telling you the predicament you find yourself in. I have been watching your reaction. Being gagged, you can’t say anything, but your body language says it all. You seem too calm and not surprised at the description of my organization. No reaction really. That tells me that you are familiar with an operation like this. When I tell you that you were collected for stalking that niece, you don’t look shocked by that accusation. That pretty much confirms what I was told,… not that it matters otherwise.

“No, the only reaction I saw was when I tell you that I am going to do your training. You looked panicked. Your eyes went right to my bulge. Oh yeah. I noticed. You are straight indeed. I should say, ‘were straight.’ From this moment on, you will never go back to that life. The only cunt in your future is the one I’m about to make out of this hole between your legs.

“You have a great ass, so flawlessly smooth. On any other slave, this ass would be a huge selling feature. But for you, it’s a source of pain. I need to put out my cigarette somewhere. Your asscheek is the best place to do it…. Scream motherfucker scream. Your perfect ass is going to go through some changes, from being daily whipped to being used as an ashtray. You are going to be scarred up for sure.

“For the next part, I need to take off my boots and get out of these overalls. You are going to get acquainted with Otto. That’s what some of the fag slaves and some of the trainers call my dick. Otto, it means ‘eight’ in Italian. I’m actually closer to nine inches, but nine in Italian is ‘Nove’ which doesn’t sound right. It doesn’t roll over the tongue as nicely as Otto. Hehe.

“Look up at me. Look shithead! Here’s Otto. Look at the cock that is going to own your life. Half hard, it’s bigger than yours. Keep staring at my foreskin. Otto needs to piss. You will be trained on drinking piss. That’s all the liquid you will be given. And if you are wondering if that means that you will be trained on becoming a full toilet, let me say we stopped training our slaves on that a while back. It was too time consuming, and the buyers weren’t interested in that feature. But for you, the higher ups want you trained. But that will have to wait.

“Are you… you are…! You’re crying! About time! Hold still. Let me wash away those tears for you. Piss is the best antidote to tears. There’s no feeling in the world like starting to tear down a once proud man by simply pissing on his face. It’s getting me hard. Otto likes what he’s doing to you. But he wants action.

“Normally, you would be sucking the last few drops out of my foreskin. But I ain’t ungagging you yet. Besides, Otto needs to turn a virgin ass into a gaping cunt.

“Your hole is perfectly displayed, like it’s ready to be destroyed thanks to that fuck pillow and how wide your legs were spread and secured. Oh look. Your cock and balls are just hanging there,… exposed,…

“…Damn! Even with my bare feet, I can deliver one hell of a ball kick. Ha! Ha! Your screams mean everything to me. You know, each and every one of my personal slaves are kicked in the balls every morning. They need to be reminded of their place on a daily basis.

“Now, you will be spared that daily torture. And that’s not because I would never have you as my personal slave, and don’t worry I wouldn’t own such trash. No, I’m going to castrate you, in one of the most painful ways. I haven’t decided how yet. I do know that I will leave your empty sack intact. We have a urologist that will make changes to your dick so that you lose all ability to get hard and with a few snips to the nerves in the area, all physical sensation will be gone. Essentially your dick will constantly just hang there and be utterly useless… other than to piss out of. Every time you reach down there, you will only feel the shell of what you used to be.

“Awww you’ve done full on sob. Here let me collect some of your tears. Tears of cunts are the best lube.

“Do you feel Otto at your hole? Feel his weight in your crack? He’s ready to go. Can you feel his leak. Lucky for you, you really got me leaking. Feel that wetness? That’s all you. Virgin cunt meets wine bottle thick dick.

“Don’t fucking start resisting. Your cherry is going to be popped. Here goes.

“Don’t fucking fight me. It’s only going to be more painful for you. You are making my dick even harder.

“LET ME IN! I’m coming in. Oh, you got my head. You are really starting to piss me off.

“Urg! There. Normally I would let a cunt relax before I begin, but you don’t fucking deserve that. Right to the… goddamned… root! Fuck, you’re tight. By the end of tonight, you will be a gaping mess.

“Not only have I been lucky to have such a big dick, but I can cum multiple times a night. My first load is always quick, but the second one goes on for hours. Then I have a gang bang lined up for this cunt.

“I’ll let someone else pop the cherry in your throat. There’s no way I’m going to let Otto near your mouth, at least not while you still have a mouthful of teeth. Oh yeah, those will be coming out as part of your transformation.

“Keep crying. Oh man. Oh fuck. I’m getting close. You ready to be bred? You ready to make your transformation to cunt complete? Here it cums. Here it goddamned cums! Ahh! Ahh! Fuuuuck!

“Holy shit! That was… fuck.

“Your cunt has one of my biggest loads in it. That should help lubricate you up a bit for round two…. Don’t try to push me out. Otto will come out when he wants to. Right now, he just wants a minute to catch his breath.

“Cunt, you have nothing but hell ahead of you. There will be no let up. Today is about breaking you in. Tomorrow will begin your life of pain. We have a shitload planned for you. I don’t know how long it will be for you to with us, but each day we will strip away what made you a man, a human.

“You know, when we put a slave up for auction, we have transformed the fag into the best slave it could be. We don’t do it for its wellbeing. No, we want top dollar. And we get top dollar. That’s our reputation.

“But for you, I was given the instruction that your transformation should be so extreme that when you are put up for auction, without a reserve price, that you are so repulsively distorted that you are sold for the lowest amount we ever had for a slave. That shouldn’t be a problem with all the branding, scarification, tattooing, deteething, and so on. Your previous profession will be shared with your new owners so that they can keep up your hell. “Oh fuck. All this talk of your pathetic life is getting me hard again. I’m ready to begin round two. This should last a few hours.”

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sweetercalypso · 1 year

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Uncharted Territory (Abby Anderson)

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Stranded on patrol with the person you hate most, there’s not much to do besides fuck out your feelings

Notes: 18+ only, minors dni; enemies to lovers, hate sex, thigh riding, tribbing, semi-public sex, mean!Abby, switch!Abby, mentions of weapons/cordyceps (general tlou references), lots of swearing.

The fear settling in your gut should serve as a reminder of where you are.

Truthfully, it reminds you of where you are not. You are not sleeping peacefully in your bunk, or eating in the cafeteria with your friends, or anywhere under the protection of WLF and its adherents. You’re forced to focus on the places you’re not because you don’t actually know where you are.

You, and your patrol partner, Abby, are lost.

Your blonde counterpart walks five paces ahead, never bothering to look over her shoulder to see if you’re in tow. It’s your responsibility to keep up, she’d told you earlier in the day. I’m making it back – with or without you.

Now, you focus on her braided ponytail swishing between her shoulder blades in an effort to distract from the pain in your muscles and the burning ache in your calves.

The two of you have been walking for hours, not entirely sure of the direction or the destination. Abby seemed to be following a trail, but what was once eroded by familiarity now offers only bare traces of the path underfoot. It’s been a long time since anyone’s been where you are now.

Tall, heavy spruces block the view of the horizon, limiting the ability to gauge how far you’ve travelled or how close you are to the city.

While you’re surveying the thicket of trees around you, a root sticking up from the dirt catches you by surprise and sends you stumbling forward with a muttered oof.

Abby stops in her path, turning sharply to stare at you. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I tripped.”

She scoffs. “Yeah, I know. So does every other person lurking in the fucking woods.”

Your eyebrows pinch together, heat rising to your face as you struggle to maintain your composure. “Abby, there’s no one around for miles.”

“You think I don’t know that? I’m talking about the infected – what if you just woke up a hoard because you fell over their roots?”

“It was a tree root!” you spit back, offended that Abby would consider you to be so careless. “You could’ve warned me about it, by the way. Or you could at least tell me where we’re going.”

“I told you,” she seethes. “I’m going back to the truck.”

The two of you had been a part of a larger group of WLF members sent out to survey an area east of the city. Beyond the stadium and the neighborhoods surrounding it, there was an unkempt expanse of evergreens that stretched hundreds of acres deep. A few days ago, whisps of smoke were spotted rising through the treetops a couple miles in, and Isaac had prepared a group to investigate.

Ten people rode out to the location, including yourself and Abby. Most of the group suspected a small fire in the midst of Washington’s dry season, and a few others figured it was a group of stragglers setting up camp under the cover of the dense forest. Either way, there was little cause for alarm.

The group was split into pairs and instructed to search in small areas before reporting back to the vehicles with their findings. Provided with a crudely hand-drawn map and not much else, you and Abby left in search of whatever person or thing had caused the fire.

Somewhere along the way, you’d missed a turn or walked too far along a path and the two of you got lost, venturing deeper into the woods than you were supposed to. When you suggested that you retrace your steps, nothing on the map seemed familiar, and there was nothing to indicate that another group might be nearby.

You should’ve known something like this would happen. Anytime Abby was around, it was bad news – and she thought the same of you. Your mutual hatred was something the entire WLF base had heard about, and many had witnessed the arguments and shouting matches first-hand.

When the two of you were paired together by Manny, you could see the snickers on the faces of the other group members. Abby had huffed under her breath before shoving the map in your hands and flipping Manny off as she stomped in the opposite direction.

You were in charge of the map, but Abby ultimately had the final say in the direction you took, and you both blamed each other for the position you were in now.

“Abby, we’re walking in circles. How much longer are you going to pretend like you know where we’re going?”

Sweat rolls down the side of your neck and the strap of your gun digs uncomfortably into your shoulder. It’s clear that Abby’s in the same state of exhaustion as she adjusts the heavy holster on her hip. She hadn’t even bothered to count the bullets left between you – you’d die anyway without a way out of the forest.

“M’sorry, do you have a better plan?” she asks, cocking her head to the side. “It’s your fault we’re lost, anyway.”

“My fault?” You stomp towards her, uncaring of the dry branches that snap under your feet. “How s’it my fault, Abby? You were the one in charge.”

“You had the map,” she insists, shoving her finger into your chest when you stop in front of her. “You should’ve been paying more attention.”

“Yeah, well you were the one in front. You must’ve led us the wrong way.” You say, enjoying the way Abby’s jaw tenses in frustration.

“When we get back, I’ll make sure Isaac knows that his favorite little lap dog is incapable of following directions.”

Abby’s expression morphs into that of rage. She pushes you away, sending you stumbling back a step.

“Fuck you,” she pants, puffing out her chest.

You react without thinking and shove her back, much harder than either of you had anticipated.

The shock sends Abby thudding onto the ground, her hands catching her weight before her ass hits the dirt. She kicks out in retaliation and swipes your feet from under you, sending you toppling over her form and driving you both onto the ground.

Landing against her chest, you’re forced to plant your hands on her shoulders to keep yourself upright. Abby’s chest heaves against yours and she scoots her hips to buck you off, unintentionally jostling you closer as you wrap your thighs around her waist to keep from being thrown onto the ground.

She grabs your hips and squeezes roughly in an effort to keep you from squirming any closer. When you stop to look at her, you’re astonished by the view. Her pupils are blown wide and strands of hair stick to her flushed cheeks and you can’t help but imagine that this is what she looks like when she fucks. Her breath comes in short puffs against your face and she licks her lips before tucking her chin to her chest to avoid the closeness of your position.

Overwrought with adrenaline, you follow the tilt of her head and smash your lips onto hers roughly. She pushes back after the surprise wears off, kissing you with fervor until you’re both forced to part for air.

“What the fuck was that?”

“I-I don’t know, I just thought –.”

Abby cuts you off by pressing your lips together again and curling one hand around your jaw.

“Don’t” she murmurs against your mouth. “Don’t think. Just take your fucking pants off.”

With her free hand, she works to remove the holster at her hip and you’re suddenly aware of the weapon still secured across your chest. You break the kiss to undo the strap from your shoulder, setting the gun to the side before yanking your shirt off and throwing it somewhere behind you. Your bra follows shortly after, and when you return your attention to Abby, she’s watching you with hunger in her eyes.

“S’pretty,” she says, cupping your breasts and running her calloused fingers over your smooth skin. The warmth of her hands paired with the humid summer air melts the uncertainty from your bones and you press yourself into her touch without restraint.

“Who knew such a pest could have such nice tits.”

There’s a playful bite to her words and it’s reflexive the way you respond with the same fire.

“Always knew I’d be the one on top,” you quip, moving over her with a sugary voice and a faux roll of your hips. “Y’wanna take charge but you never do. You’re all bark and no bite.”

She bucks her hips up to jostle you in your place, grinning slyly when you lose your balance. “You’ve thought about this before then, huh?”

“Thought about what? Putting you in your place? All the time.”

Your hands go to the hem of Abby’s shirt, shucking the material up to her chest. She takes the hint and raises her arms up, letting you tug the fabric over her head. She reaches around her back to undo her bra, pulling it off and adding it to the mess of clothes around you.

Abby sits up with you in her lap and puts one hand on the back of your neck, bringing her lips to your throat to plant kisses anywhere she can reach. While she’s busy marking your flushed skin with her lips and grazing teeth, you work open the button of your pants and shimmy the thick material down your hips.

You remove yourself from her lap just long enough to pull your pants off while Abby takes the chance to do the same. When you’re bare to each other and the silent forest around you, she pulls you back on top of her and runs her hands up your sides.

“Y’gonna let me taste your pretty pussy? Huh? Gonna come on my mouth? Or d’you want my fingers instead? Bet you’re so pretty when you s—.”

You groan out loud, putting a hand over Abby’s mouth playfully. “Stop talking and fuck me.”

She laughs heartily against your palm, a chirpy sound you don’t think you’ve heard from her before. “Yes ma’am.”

Your hands move to her shoulders as Abby slots one of her thighs between yours, creating a divine pressure between your legs. Shifting your hips experimentally, you stutter over the muscled expanse of her thigh. The stimulation proves to be too much for your frantic mind and you struggle to keep a steady pace.

“Abby-” you choke out, thoughts too static to think of a better plead.

She grunts in acknowledgement, seeming to understand what you’re asking for. Her grip becomes pinching on your hips as she slides your cunt over your toned thigh, flexing her muscles in a way that sends an unexpected tremor through your clit.

The sudden pleasure makes you cry out, furrowing your brows together and throwing your head back as Abby leads your movements.

“S’that all it takes to get you to quit running your mouth? Y’just needed to get fucked, huh?”

Abby closes the space between the two of you, leaning in to kiss you again. She nips at your bottom lip, sinking her teeth into the gentle skin there and tugging sharply. A broken moan escapes your parted lips and she takes the opportunity to slip her tongue into your mouth.

A sheen of slick glistens against her skin where you slide your puffy clit over her thigh. It takes all of your energy to remain upright as she ruts your hips over hers with a pace that blurs the line between pleasure and punishment.

You pull away from her mouth to suck in a breath of air, taking the chance to warn Abby of the tension building in your core.

“Gonna come, mmph – please.”

“That’s it,” she grunts, eager eyes transfixed on your tits bouncing in front of her face. “Let go – make a mess, baby.”

Pleasure overrides your senses, flooding your veins with a rich intensity and filling your chest with warmth. Your cunt throbs against her thigh, slick dribbling down her skin in sappy rivulets. She lets you ride out your orgasm for a minute longer, still grinding your hips against her thigh until you become too sensitive to continue.

“Too much,” you rasp, letting your hands rest on top of Abby’s as she slows the pace of your hips.

You gently squeeze her fingers in appreciation and the intimacy of your touch is almost too much for Abby to handle. She feels her own cunt clench at the sudden realization of your position – Abby might be the one making you come, but the way you command her through subtle touch lets her know that she’s not the only one capable of taking charge.

“S’my turn to make you feel good.”

Your voice snaps Abby out of her thoughts and she watches you reposition yourself between her legs to press your slick cunt against hers. Abby lets you have control, leaning back and resting on her elbows while you hover over her on your knees.

Your hands grasp at her thighs, forcing them further apart to make enough room for you to move. After a moment of adjustment, you find the perfect angle to rub your sensitive clit against hers, causing you to hiss from the feeling of bittersweet overstimulation.

The silence from Abby is unfamiliar and you can’t help but taunt her as you rock your hips into hers.

“Always got something smart to say – where’s that energy now? Cat got your tongue?”

Her expression is foreign, somewhere between needy and content, and you want to study her features until you’ve discovered every detail you’ve missed in willful ignorance.

“Lemme hear you,” you say, coaxing her into a comfortable state. “Don’t hide from me now.”

Abby breaks from her stoic mask for just a moment, allowing herself to openly enjoy the drag of your clit against her delicate bundle of nerves. Her moans are raspy and guttural and pure heaven, and you move against her cunt faster in hopes of drawing more sounds from the blonde underneath you.

The air is thick with your shared pants and the lewd sound of your cunts grinding together. Your combined slick wets the insides of Abby’s thighs and travels up to your naval, smeared over your skin like a translucent haze.

Abby glances down at where you’re connected, humming appreciatively at the sight. “So fuckin’ pretty” she says, mind reduced to nothing by the pleasure coursing through her body. “Next time, you’re putting that pretty pussy on my face.”

The promise of something more is what pushes you over the edge for the second time, sending you forward onto Abby’s chest with a pitiful cry. Abby wraps one arm around you and bucks her hips wildly, finding her own climax as you pant against her mouth.

Her muscled legs tighten around your thighs when she comes against you, pulling you impossibly closer as she comes down from her high. The shwick of your cunts rubbing against each other falters as her movements come to an end.

The stillness of the forest engulfs the two of you in awkward silence, neither of you entirely sure of what to say now that the adrenaline has worn off. You open your mouth to speak, but before you can say anything to relieve the awkward tension in your chest, you’re interrupted by the sound of branches breaking underfoot.

Your eyes widen in shock to find another pair of WLF members standing a couple yards away, looking like they’ve stumbled upon the implausible.

Manny wears a devious grin, like he’d foreseen this exact outcome when he sent the two of you on patrol together. Nora stands beside him with her gun in hand, and you can imagine she was expecting something else waiting beyond the trees by the look of shock on her face.

“Now that’s something I thought I’d never see.”

Abby groans and hides her face in your neck, growing more flushed with each second spent under her friends’ scrutiny.

Manny howls with laughter, patting Nora on the shoulder as they turn their backs to give you the privacy to get dressed and find your composure. You mumble a string of curses under your breath as you slowly remove yourself from Abby while trying to block out your friends’ awkward presence. Manny’s voice breaks through the hands you have pressed over your ears, still rumbling with laughter as he shakes his head.

“You two are never gonna live this down.”

#calypso writes #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson smut #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson drabble #the last of us #tlou #the last of us x reader #switch!abby #switch!reader #sub!abby #mean!abby #abby smut #abby tlou #enemies to lovers

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loveindefinitely · 10 months

Text

༊*·˚ BUT YOU BELONG TO ME — you, your boyfriend johnny, and his friend simon

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, polyamory, threesome, enemies to lovers, bi ghoap, angry sex, hate sex (kinda), dom/sub undertones, bickering, friends to lovers (for ghoap), love confessions

// NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT //

You love Johnny's friends.

Really, you do. They're a rowdy bunch, all in-your-face with their larger than life personalities and even larger frames. However, overall, they're people you don't mind hanging out with, as long as your lover is by your side.

But that's all... general.

It's an entirely different story when discussing Johnny's closest friend. The only other person to hold their own acre of property in his gentle heart. A man who the Scot admires almost as much, if not the same amount, as he does you.

Simon Riley.

Since the day you met the lieutenant, you knew that your relationship was going to be a rough one.

He's quiet. Annoyingly so. Somehow, he manages to deliver the nastiest of words without opening his mouth, or taking off that damn balaclava of his.

No. He says it all with deep brown eyes, and overall presence. Who the fuck does that? Can manage to do that?

The feel is mutual, you discovered within two seconds of meeting him for the first time, all those months ago. All it took was a firm, almost warning, shake of your hand to cement that fact, and a hardening glare of his from behind the mask.

Since that very first interaction, the animosity between you both has been nothing if not apparent.

And, look, you try. Really, you do. This is your soulmate's best friend, the one who he spends an equal amount of free time with as you. That's all fine. You're happy for Johnny.

It only becomes a problem when his love for the two of you overlap. When he invites you both over at the same time, or you plan to go on a date and Simon just 'happens to be there'.

It's weird. Alarm bells siren in your ears, red flags are waved in your head, and you have an inner monologue yelling at a mile per minute.

At the end of the day, if you ever truly suspected Johnny of being unfaithful, you would end things.

You knew your worth, even if the pain would be near unbearable.

But this is different. Hell, you know that this is different. And not because it's a man -- your boyfriend had always been open with his inclinations for just about any gender -- but because it's Simon, and because it's you.

So.

When you and Simon are in the same room together, it encompasses a hell of a lot of insults and pettiness from your end, with Simon's cold glares and huffs of indignation on his.

It's a never-ending cycle.

Johnny, for his part, puts up with it. He laughs it off, cooling the mood, because that's who he is. It's part of the reason that you love the man, his ability to work with people and deal with confrontation outside of missions.

Neither you or Simon could've properly prepared for his patience to end, however.

Or the realisation he came to.

You're spending the night at Johnny's, which, at this point, is an event occurring more often than not, when Simon knocks on the door.

And, look. Usually you'd pull up your big girl pants and deal with it.

But you'd been waiting for weeks to try something out with Johnny. You'd both done all the research, ordered the rope, and bought the blindfold and cuffs. The wine in your hands and makeup you'd done with the specific intention to cry it off later said just as much.

It all collapses onto itself when Simon fucking Riley knocks on the door.

Johnny gives you an apologetic rinse, before hopping off of the ouch and lightly jogging to the front door, unlocking it and cracking it open. You mourn the lack of his body heat, his warm body against your own.

The dim lights from the warm yellow lights sat at the back wall cast heavy shadows over Simon's face -- his maskless one. It's rare that he shows up without it. In fact, that's only happened once in the year and a half you've known the guy.

"What's up, mate?" Johnny asks with a tilt of his head, leaning against the door frame and folding his muscled arms over his bulky chest.

Lord, if you didn't already have him, you'd be praying to every God to get your hands on that frame of his.

Simon replies quiet enough that you can't hear, and you know it's an intentional act. It shouldn't piss you off as much as it does, but you can't help the feeling of annoyance and distaste creep into your mouth like a poisonous acid, lacing your tongue with the bitterness.

Johnny murmurs back his reply, before Simon steps in, and your boyfriend shuts the door closed behind him.

"Are you serious?" The words slip out on your own accord, before you can stop them. They're accusatory, angry, and... reflective of your current mood.

If Simon's responding glare could kill, you'd be six feet under. "Date night?" Is his dry, curt reply, and fury boils in your blood.

"He had no where else to go, lass," Is Johnny's input, but you don't even spare him a glance. No. Your ire is all directed at his best friend, and he deserves every last drop of it.

"Actually, yes, it is date night," You quip back, ripping the blanket off of yourself and standing up, moving towards the two men where they stand in the doorway. The light creeps onto the floorboards, the darkened corner of the room shrouding yourselves in shadows. "You know. One without your ass for once."

Johnny rubs his roughened hand over his face, looking up to the roof as if asking it to spare him.

With a roll of his eyes, Simon spares you a flitting, dismissive glance, before turning back to his best friend. "Needta' keep her on a tighter leash."

There's a moment, then. One where you're stuck on a forked path, where each option seem as unimportant as gum on a city sidewalk.

They'll both change the course of your life forever -- but it certainly doesn't feel like it, and it certainly isn't about to affect your decision-making in the slightest.

"Is that why you can't get laid, huh, Simon? Want a submissive little wife you can walk all over? Didn't know you were compensating that fucking much. Hell, if you're that fucking desperate, we can lend you a few bucks and you can go get lucky at the fucking strip club!"

There's a tense silence, that passes for a few beats.

One.

Two.

And then Simon scoffs a nasty, incredulous sound, his attention now fully on you. "Didn't realise ya were so passionate about where I stick my dick, Princess."

It's a lot of words from the usually quiet man, and -- and they're hostile, with anger lacing every syllable that escapes his scarred mouth.

You take a step closer, unknowingly, jabbing a finger into his -- admittedly built -- chest.

"Wasn't until it started to affect me and Johnny! You're always hovering, always fucking there -- hell, if it weren't for social decorum, you'd be pulled up beside the bed while he fucks me! Maybe you could take notes, hey? You know, so you could actually find a chick that could fuck this -- this clinginess out of you!"

It's a low blow, you know it all too well, but he reacts like a dog with a bone, and it's somehow satisfying, rewarding in a way it shouldn't be. Not at all.

"You're actin' like a spoiled fuckin' brat, Princess. What, Johnny's gotten' bored of your ass? Gotta beg him to fuck ya?"

You aren't entirely sure when the two of you had gotten just a breath's distance apart, when you'd had to start tilting your head back to keep eye contact, when the tips of your bare feet started pressing against his black shoes.

Both of your breaths come out ragged, and you're entirely in your own world, forgetting all about the man holding both of your affections, the man that started this vitriol-filled relationship in the first place.

"What? Wish it was you he was fuckin' instead?" You hiss, lowly, calculated, and Simon rears back as if you've slapped him.

In a way, you might just have.

"You need to get put in your fuckin' place," is his slow, scarily calm quip in return. Your spine is ramrod straight, eyes filled with a fire in the barely-there light.

"You need to get laid," you seethe, hands balling into fists at your sides.

"Ye both needta' fuck a'd get it over with."

Silence, once more, fills the room, infinitely more cataclysmic than what any of you had planned for.

But that's just it.

There's no planning a calamity.

"What?" Johnny shrugs, as if he hasn't set a bomb between you all, as if he hadn't planned for you all to fear shrapnel scraping your skin. "Dinnae realise it was a fuckin' revelation."

"Johnny --" you begin, or, well, you try to, but your brain isn't exactly cooperating with your mouth, and vice versa.

"No, love, I'm serious," he raises his hands, palms facing both you and Simon in a placating gesture. "Hell, yer both givin' me a boner jus' from watchin' ya both go at it."

Oh.

Oh, he's right. He's so fucking right. The tension, the thinly veiled animostiy between you both -- it's never been one of pure hatred. Never been one of pure, mutual dislike.

It's been one dripping of sex, of desire. One consisting of lashing words and biting tones because you couldn't unleash them on each other in the one way you wanted to.

And maybe something else. Something you're not quite ready to face, not yet, not now.

But you will. Someday.

"Johnny..." Simon's brows are pulled together, and god, now that your lover has made you confront the feelings so heavily pushed down inside of you, you realise how beautiful the man is. Short, almost messy blonde hair, scarred face consisting of sharp features and defined cheekbones.

He's disarming in how attractive he is.

And when paired with Johnny? It's as destructive as the very bomb resting between all three of you, the one that your partner had constructed with bare hands and an ever barer heart.

"Yer tellin' me ya don't wanna bend 'er over the couch?" Johnny asks, flippantly, a genuine question.

The silence is as good of a reply as any words, and the man figures as much.

It's Simon's next words that change everything.

"Not just 'er," he says.

Not just her.

...He says.

Not. Just. Her.

The warmth of the living room reflects in Simon's velvet brown eyes, in the vulnerable glint in them. With those three words, he's put everything on the line, prepared himself for the guillotine that's in Johnny's hands to erect.

You see your lover work his jaw, work around the words about to leave his mouth, and your stomach hollows out.

If it had, oddly enough, been anyone else. Anyone else, you'd have already asked them to leave, let alone after that remark. But it's Simon. The man you know Johnny loves just as much as he does you, and the man you've forced yourself to hate, if only to repress the emotions you wouldn't allow yourself to feel.

"You," Johnny says, properly rolling his tongue over the full word, letting its weight sink in to the quiet of the apartment. "Want us. Both."

A moment passes.

Then, Simon nods, albeit stilted and, dare you say it -- nervous.

They both look at you, then, and you realise that what happens next is entirely in your hands, that all of your lives are effectively at your mercy.

So, with a deep breath, you nod.

a/n. just a teaser for this oneshot. ghoap x reader agenda 4ever!! just something about them is so flavourful and then adding a reader-insert?? boom there u go that's the good shit

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reasonsforhope · 8 months

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Paywall-free version

On the outskirts of Austin, Texas, what began as a fringe experiment has quickly become central to the city’s efforts to reduce homelessness. To Justin Tyler Jr., it is home.

Mr. Tyler, 41, lives in Community First! Village, which aims to be a model of permanent affordable housing for people who are chronically homeless. In the fall of 2022, he joined nearly 400 residents of the village, moving into one of its typical digs: a 200-square-foot, one-room tiny house furnished with a kitchenette, a bed and a recliner.

The village is a self-contained, 51-acre community in a sparsely populated area just outside Austin. Stepping onto its grounds feels like entering another realm.

Eclectic tiny homes are clustered around shared outdoor kitchens, and neat rows of recreational vehicles and manufactured homes line looping cul-de-sacs.

There are chicken coops, two vegetable gardens, a convenience store, art and jewelry studios, a medical clinic and a chapel.

Roads run throughout, but residents mainly get around on foot or on an eight-passenger golf cart that makes regular stops around the property.

Mr. Tyler chose a home with a cobalt-blue door and a small patio in the oldest part of the village, where residents’ cactus and rock gardens created a “funky, hippie vibe” that appealed to him. He arrived in rough shape, struggling with alcoholism, his feet inflamed by gout, with severe back pain from nearly 10 years of sleeping in public parks, in vehicles and on street benches.

At first, he kept to himself. He locked his door and slept. He visited the clinic and started taking medication. After a month or so, he ventured out to meet his neighbors.

“For a while there, I just didn’t want to be seen and known,” he said. “Now I prefer it.”

Between communal meals and movie screenings, Mr. Tyler also works at the village, preparing homes for the dozen or more people who move there each month.

In the next few years, Community First is poised to grow to nearly 2,000 homes across three locations, which would make it by far the nation’s largest project of this kind, big enough to permanently house about half of Austin’s chronically homeless population.

Tiny-home villages for people who have been homeless have existed on a small scale for several decades, but have recently become a popular approach to addressing surging homelessness. Since 2019, the number of these villages across the country has nearly quadrupled, to 124 from 34, with dozens more coming, according to a census by Yetimoni Kpeebi, a researcher at Missouri State University.

Mandy Chapman Semple, a consultant who has helped cities like Houston transform their homelessness systems, said the growth of these villages reflects a need to replace inexpensive housing that was once widely available in the form of mobile home parks and single room occupancy units, and is rapidly being lost. But she said they are a highly imperfect solution.

“I think where we’re challenged is that ‘tiny home’ has taken on a spectrum of definitions,” said Chapman Semple. Many of those definitions fall short of housing standards, often lacking basic amenities like heat and indoor plumbing, which she said limits their ability to meet the needs of the population they intend to serve.

But Community First is pushing the tiny home model to a much larger scale. While most of its homes lack bathrooms and kitchens, its leaders see that as a necessary trade-off to be able to creatively and affordably house the growing number of people living on Austin’s streets. And unlike most other villages, many of which provide temporary emergency shelter in structures that can resemble tool sheds, Community First has been thoughtfully designed with homey spaces where people with some of the highest needs can stay for good. No other tiny home village has attempted to permanently house as many people.

Austin’s homelessness rate has been rapidly worsening, and the city’s response has whipped back and forth... In October [2023], the official estimate put the number of people living without shelter at 5,530, a 125 percent increase from two years earlier. Some of that rise is the result of better outreach, but officials acknowledged that more people have become homeless. City leaders vowed to build more housing, but that effort has been slowed by construction delays and resistance from residents.

Meanwhile, outside the city limits, Community First has been building fast. [Note from below the read more: It's outside city limits because the lack of zoning laws keeps more well-off Austin residents from blocking the project, as they did earlier attempts to build inside the city.] In a mere eight years, this once-modest project has grown into a sprawling community that the city is turning to as a desperately needed source of affordable housing. The village has now drawn hundreds of millions of dollars from public and private sources and given rise to similar initiatives across the country.

This rapid growth has come despite significant challenges. And some question whether a community on the outskirts of town with relaxed housing standards is a suitable way to meet the needs of people coming out of chronic homelessness. The next few years will be a test of whether these issues will be addressed or amplified as the village expands to five times its current size.

-via New York Times, January 8, 2024. Article continues below (at length!)

The community versus Community First

For Alan Graham, the expansion of Community First is just the latest stage in a long-evolving project. In the late 1990s, Mr. Graham, then a real estate developer, attended a Catholic men’s retreat that deepened his faith and inspired him to get more involved with his church. Soon after, he began delivering meals as a church volunteer to people living on Austin’s streets.

In 1998, Mr. Graham, now 67, became a founder of Mobile Loaves and Fishes, a nonprofit that has since amassed a fleet of vehicles that make daily rounds to deliver food and clothing to Austin’s homeless...

Talking to people like Mr. Johnston [a homeless Austin resident who Graham had befriended], Mr. Graham came to feel that housing alone was not enough for people who had been chronically homeless, the official term for those who have been homeless for years or repeatedly and have physical or mental disabilities, including substance-use disorders. About a third of the homeless population fits this description, and they are often estranged from family and other networks.

In 2006, Mr. Graham pitched an idea to Austin’s mayor: Create an R.V. park for people coming out of chronic homelessness. It would have about 150 homes, supportive services and easy access to public transportation. Most importantly, it would help to replace the “profound, catastrophic loss of family” he believed was at the root of the problem with a close-knit and supportive community.

The City Council voted unanimously in 2008 to lease Mr. Graham a 17-acre plot of city-owned land to make his vision a reality. Getting the council members on board, he said, turned out to be the easy part.

When residents near the intended site learned of the plan, they were outraged. They feared the development would reduce their property values and invite crime. One meeting to discuss the plan with the neighborhood grew so heated that Mr. Graham was escorted to his car by the police. Not a single one of the 52 community members in attendance voted in favor of the project.

After plans for the city-owned lot fell apart and other proposed locations faced similar resistance, Mr. Graham gave up on trying to build the development within city limits.

In 2012, he instead acquired a plot of land in a part of Travis County just northeast of Austin. It was far from public transportation and other services, but it had one big advantage: The county’s lack of zoning laws limited the power of neighbors to stop it.

Mr. Graham raised $20 million and began to build. In late 2015, Mr. Johnston left the R.V. park he had been living in and became the second person to move into the new village. It grew rapidly. In just two years, Mr. Graham bought an adjacent property, nearly doubling the village’s size to 51 acres and making room for hundreds more residents.

And then in the fall of 2022, he broke ground on the largest expansion yet: Adding two more sites to the village, expanding it by 127 acres to include nearly 2,000 homes.

“No one ever really did what they first did, and no one’s ever done what they’re about to do,” said Mark Hilbelink, the director of Sunrise Navigation Center, Austin’s largest homeless-services provider. “So there’s a little bit of excitement but also probably a little bit of trepidation about, ‘How do we do this right?’”

What it takes to make a village

Since he moved into Community First eight years ago, Mr. Johnston has found the stability that eluded him for so long. Most mornings, he wakes up early in his R.V., feeds his scruffy adopted terrier, Amos, and walks a few minutes down a quiet road to the village garden, where neat rows of carrots, leeks, beets and arugula await his attention.

Mr. Johnston worked in fast-food restaurants for most of his life, but he learned how to garden at the village. He now works full time cultivating produce for a weekly market that is free to residents.

“Once I got here, I said, This is where I’m going to spend pretty much my entire life now,” Mr. Johnston said.

Everyone at the village pays rent, which averages about $385 a month. The tiny homes that make up two-thirds of the dwellings go for slightly lower, but have no indoor plumbing; their residents use communal bathhouses and kitchens. The rest of the units are R.V.s and manufactured homes with their own bathrooms and kitchens.

Like Mr. Johnston, many residents have jobs in the village, created to offer residents flexible opportunities to earn some income. Last year, they earned a combined $1.5 million working as gardeners, landscapers, custodians, artists, jewelry makers and more, paid out by Mobile Loaves and Fishes.

Ute Dittemer, 66, faced a daily struggle for survival during a decade on the streets before moving into Community First five years ago with her husband. Now she supports herself by painting and molding figures out of clay at the village art house, augmented by her husband’s $800 monthly retirement income. A few years ago, a clay chess set she made sold for $10,000 at an auction. She used the money to buy her first car.

“I’m glad that we are not in a low-income-housing apartment complex,” she said. “We’ve got all this green out here, air to breathe.”

A small number of residents have jobs off-site, and a city bus makes hourly stops at the village 13 times a day to help people commute into town.

But about four out of five residents live on government benefits like disability or Social Security. Their incomes average $900 a month, making even tiny homes impossible to afford without help, Mr. Graham said.

“Essentially 100 percent of the people that move into this village will have to be subsidized for the rest of their lives,” he said.

For about $25,000 a year, Mr. Graham’s organization subsidizes one person’s housing at the village. (Services like primary health care and addiction counseling are provided by other organizations.) So far, that has been paid for entirely by private donations and in small part from collecting rent.

This would not be possible, Mr. Graham said, without a highly successful fund-raising operation that taps big Austin philanthropists. To build the next two expansions, Mr. Graham set a $225 million fund-raising goal, about $150 million of which has already been obtained from the Michael and Susan Dell Foundation, the founder of the Patrón Spirits Company, Hill Country Bible Church and others.

Support goes beyond monetary donations. A large land grant came from the philanthropic arm of Tito’s Handmade Vodka, and Alamo Drafthouse, an Austin-based cinema chain, donated an outdoor amphitheater for movie screenings. Top architectural firms competed for the chance to design energy-efficient tiny homes free of charge. And every week, hundreds of volunteers come to help with landscaping and gardening or to serve free meals.

Around 55 residents, including 15 children, live in the village as “missionals” — unpaid neighbors generally motivated by their Christian faith to be part of the community.

All missionals undergo a monthslong “discernment process” before they can move in. They pay to live in R.V.s and manufactured homes distinguished by an “M” in the front window. Their presence in the community is meant to guard against the pitfalls of concentrated poverty and trauma.

“Missionals are our guardian angels,” said Blair Racine, a 69-year-old resident with a white beard that hangs to his chest. “They’re people we can always call. They’re always there for us.”

After moving into the village in 2018, Mr. Racine spent two years isolated in his R.V. because of a painful eye condition. But after an effective treatment, he became so social that he was nicknamed the Mayor. Missional residents drive him to get his medication once a week, he said. To their children he is Uncle Blair.

Though the village is open to people of any religious background, it is run by Christians, and public spaces are adorned with paintings of Jesus on the cross and other biblical scenes. The application to live in the community outlines a set of “core values” that refer to God and the Bible. But Mr. Graham said there is no proselytizing and people do not have to be sober or seek treatment to live there.

Mr. Graham lives in a 399-square-foot manufactured home in the middle of the village with his wife, Tricia Graham, who works as the community’s “head of neighbor care.” He said they do not have any illusions about solving the underlying mental-health and substance-use problems many residents live with, and that is not their goal.

“This is absolutely not nirvana,” Mr. Graham said. “And we want people to understand the beauty and the complexity of what we do. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else on the face of the planet than right here in the middle of this, but you’re not fixing these things.” ...

From an experiment to a model

Community First has already inspired spinoffs, with some tweaks. In 2018, Nate Schlueter, who previously worked with the village’s jobs program, opened Eden Village in his hometown, Springfield, Mo. Unlike in Community First, every home in Eden Village is identical and has its own bathroom and kitchen. Mr. Schlueter’s model has spread to 12 different cities with every village limited to 50 homes or fewer.

“Not every city is Austin, Texas,” Mr. Schlueter said. “We don’t want to build a large-scale village. And if the root cause of homelessness is a loss of family, and community is something that can duplicate that safety net to some extent, to have smaller villages to me seemed like a stronger community safety net. Everybody would know each other.”

The rapid growth of Community First has challenged that ideal. In recent years, some of the original missional residents and staff members have left, finding it harder to support the number of people moving into the village. Steven Hebbard, who lived and worked at the village since its inception, left in 2019 when he said it shifted from a “tiny-town dynamic” where he knew everyone’s name to something that felt more like a city, straining the supportive culture that helped people succeed.

Mobile Loaves and Fishes said more staff members had recently been hired to help new residents adjust, but Mr. Graham noted that there was a limit to what any housing provider could do without violating people’s privacy and autonomy.

Despite these concerns, the organization, which had been run entirely on private money, has recently drawn public support. In January 2023, Travis County gave Mobile Loaves and Fishes $35 million in American Rescue Plan Act funds to build 640 units as part of its expansion.

Then four months later came a significant surprise: The U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development approved the use of federal housing vouchers, which subsidize part or all of a low-income resident’s rent, for the village’s tiny homes. This will make running the village much more financially sustainable, Mr. Graham said, and may make it a more replicable blueprint for other places.

“That’s a big deal for us, and it’s a big deal on a national basis,” Mr. Graham said. “It’s a recognition that this model, managed the way that this model is, has a role in the system.”

Usually, the government considers homes without indoor plumbing to be substandard, but, in this case, it made an exception by applying the housing standards it uses for single-room-occupancy units. The village still did not meet the required ratio of bathrooms per person, but at the request of Travis County and the City of Austin’s housing officials, who cited Austin’s “severe lack of affordable housing” that made it impossible for some homeless people with vouchers to find anywhere else to live, HUD waived its usual requirements.

In the waiver, a HUD staffer wrote that Mr. Graham told HUD officials over the phone that the proportion of in-unit bathrooms “has not been an issue.” But in conversations with The Times, other homeless-service providers in Austin and some village residents said the lack of in-unit bathrooms is one of the biggest problems people have with living there. It also makes the villages less accessible to people with certain disabilities and health issues that are relatively common among the chronically homeless....

Mr. Graham said that with a doctor’s note, people could secure an R.V. or manufactured home at the village, although those are in short supply and have a long waiting list. He said the village’s use of tiny homes allowed them to build at a fraction of the usual cost when few other options existed, and helps ensure residents aren’t isolated in their units, reinforcing the village’s communal ethos.

“If somebody wants to live in a tiny home they ought to have the choice,” Mr. Graham said, “and if they are poor we ought to respect their civil right to live in that place and be subsidized to live there.” But he conceded that for some people, “this might not be the model.”

“Nobody can be everything for everyone,” he said.

By the spring of 2025, Mr. Graham hopes to begin moving people into the next phase of the village, across the street from the current property. The darker visions some once predicted of an impoverished community on the outskirts of town overtaken by drugs and violence have not come to pass. Instead, the village has permanently housed hundreds of people and earned the approval and financial backing of the city, the county and the federal government. But for the model to truly meet the scale of the challenge in Austin and beyond, Chapman Semple said, the compromises that led to Community First in its current incarnation will have to be reckoned with.

“We can build smaller villages that can be fully integrated into the community, that can have access to amenities within the community that we all need to live, including jobs and groceries,” Chapman Semple said. “If it’s a wonderful model then we should be embracing and fighting for its inclusion within our community.”

-via New York Times, January 8, 2024

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