lilbabyflowur-blog

[espy-heart]

Day 11!

Riding home at night from my grandparent's house while playing new games my ds was the peak holiday experience.

[pa-pa-plasma]

i feel like a lot of people ignore the fact that in a lot of places, bicycling just. cannot be done for half the year, & that's why public transport being good is important. i cannot bike in 5 feet of snow & ice or in 40c heat. i can't even walk in that, unless i have the energy to snowshoe or a bucket of ice water to chug.

"but I can do it!" good for you. unfortunately i live in Berk (snowing for 9 months of the year & hailing the other 3) & cannot unless i want to die. also disabled people exist. & children. & people who live in a place where everything is no closer than 30 minutes away, & 30 minutes in -30c can kill you if you can't afford a good pair of boots & a good coat. i may have bike paths but the river floods past them every year. what do i do then? bike on the highway?? just let me take the train

[steddiewithachance]

I'm Here on Business

Wayne is a regular at the bookstore Steve works at and badgers Steve into going on a blind date with his kid.

For @extocancer Happy New Years!!! I hope you enjoy your presents ◡̈

***

It's a quiet night in the little bookstore on the corner of Brinks and Williams. Steve is sitting behind the check-out counter flicking the leaf of a potted pothos placed next to the register. Soft music plays from the radio behind him.

Steve likes taking the evening shifts at the shop just to see the place warmly lit up by all of the eclectic and ornate lamps that Amber, the owner, has collected. The store doesn't give him migraines from obnoxious fluorescent light, which has been an issue at previous jobs.

Ever since Robin moved out of their apartment for Grad school, it's been upsetting to be at home alone at night. Without her company, the couch feels longer. And without her unhinged apartment decor, the walls feel taller and colder. Consequently, Steve has taken on more work hours instead of being home.

Plus, he has kind of fallen in love with reading. It came as a shock to him that he could enjoy it as much as he does. It started when his all-female team of coworkers began ranting to each other about these romance novels they were all into. He felt a little left out and decided to give one of them a try. It turns out that reading was actually a really great coping mechanism for dealing with his temporary loss of Robin.

The nicest, and most surprising thing to come out of this job though, is probably Wayne. A one-time customer turned regular, turned tentative friend for Steve. He's got a caring, parental energy that Steve's own parents never had.

The guy looks like he'd have a gruff or standoffish personality. His face naturally rests in a frown and he's got receding grey hair. He wears a flannel every day without fail; he's got a million different colors of them and Steve has even made a game of predicting which one he'll be wearing when he comes in.

"Did ya guess right today, boy?" Wayne will ask.

"No," Steve often admits glumly. "The universe told me you'd be wearing your green and blue one."

So anyway, Wayne comes around a lot to make small talk. He often mentions how he misses his son, Eddie. He's so stiff with personal information about his kid, but one time he let it slip that Eddie was on tour with his band. Steve had a field day afterward colluding with Google to find out exactly who Wayne's son was.

Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of rock group Corroded Coffin.

Steve hadn't heard of ‘em but they certainly have a following. He listened to some of their stuff, to give himself some context for the next time Wayne brought up Eddie's music. It was nice enough, the guy has a good voice.

Steve's been waiting for Wayne to come in tonight. He's later than usual and it would be ridiculous for Steve to worry about a man who probably just thinks of Steve as that one kid who works at the bookstore. He may not come in at all tonight, and that would be fine too. Steve's still holding out on him pulling up in his... yellow flannel.

Steve's about to cave and start the next book in the current series he's reading when the door jingles. Wayne pushes inside in his mother fucking yellow flannel.

"Yellow Flannel!" Steve exclaims. Wayne chuckles and drops a book on the counter followed by a receipt.

"You got me right today?" Wayne asks fondly.

"Yup. It's been a while. I was aching for a win." Steve starts returning Wayne's book for him without giving him slack this time. Wayne treats the store like a library and Steve doesn't have the heart to tell him it's not allowed.

"Was this book any good?" Steve throws Wayne's receipt back at him and starts moving around the counter to put it back on the shelf for some other historical fiction lover to purchase.

"It was just alright." Wayne follows behind him languidly, eyeing the rows of colorful book spines for something that catches his eye. "But actually I'm here on business tonight."

Steve leans on the shelf and waits impatiently for Wayne to tell him what sort of business he's on.

"I think you ought to go on a date with Eddie. I think you two'd compliment each other."

Well, that's... not what Steve was expecting to hear.

"That's business to you? You came here to set me up on a blind date with your famous kid? I think he's gonna be a tad underwhelmed by a bookstore employee, Wayne." Steve's not gonna lie, he's a little intrigued by the prospect of dating a musician. He read a romance novel about one, not that long ago. Concerts, greenroom intimacy, targeted lyrics: Steve could be into it, in theory.

And ultimately, Steve did see photos of Eddie on Google and he's attractive. He looks good holding a guitar.

"He's gonna be home for a while so I figured now's a good time. Just go on one date. He's a big softie, you'll like him." Wayne pulls a book off the shelf and squints to try and read the title. He holds it further from his eyes before giving up and pushing it back into its slot.

"What happens if he doesn't like me? Will you still come around?" Steve runs a nervous hand through his hair. It wouldn't be the end of the world if Wayne stopped showing up, but it would probably hurt a little. It might fan the flame of his fear of abandonment.

"Of course, unless you break his heart. I know where you work, young man." Wayne pats his shoulder good-naturedly.

"Okay old man, you need my number to hand off?"

***

A day later, when Steve feels his phone buzz against his thigh, his instincts already know who it is. His heart gives that anticipatory squeeze he often gets before a first date with someone he finds attractive.

The text reads:

Hi Steve, this is eddie. Wayne swears we're soulmates. Wanna get dinner on friday?

It's a funny text to receive out of nowhere. Steve doubts Wayne actually used that word, but he imagines that Eddie is probably getting more of an earful than Steve got about this whole blind date. He also wonders what kind of person calls their dad by their first name.

Hi Eddie. I'd love to get dinner on Fri and discuss our soulmate status. I'm pretty sure he expects us to be married by the end of the night. Should I bring my tux? Also do you have a time and place in mind?

The master of puppets (Wayne) suggested we go to Maggiano's, are you okay with Italian? 8 maybe??? Tux optional but I think I will not be wearing one.

Haha. That sounds good Eddie, it's nice to hear from you. I'll see you soon.

***

Steve has to ask Amber to change his shift for Friday to work in the morning instead of the evening.

"Steve has somewhere other than work to be on a Friday night? Unheard of!" She slaps her palms down on the book display she was laying out.

"I know. I'm surprised too." Steve fiddles with his lanyard and gives her a 'please say yes' smile. She sighs.

"Yeah, I'll cover you. You can take my morning slot."

"Thank you! I owe you, boss."

***

When Friday arrives, Steve has the nervous jitters. It's been about a year since his last date, it didn't go very well. He's flattered that Wayne thinks highly enough of him to set him up with his kid.

Steve picks up a few small gifts for Eddie on his way home from work. He always brings his first dates a little something. He likes to see the way their faces light up. He thinks maybe he should get Eddie something music-related. So he walks into a little music store he's never been in and asks for small gift ideas for guitarists. He walks out wearing a smile, and hoping Eddie digs what he bought him.

And he's all smiles and confidence until he pulls up to the restaurant at eight and realizes he didn't send a confirmation text this morning. That's like, a rule, right? What if Eddie doesn't show up?

Steve steps out of the car and is equally anxious and relieved to find him leaning artfully against the restaurant near the front door with his hands in his pockets.

His curls are haloed by the warm light spilling out of the restaurant window. He's wearing a dark button-down with the sleeves rolled up to reveal tattoos on his forearms. And yeah, okay, he's hot.

The fact that Steve's going on a date with someone sort of famous hasn't fully sunk in. He's not sure he needs the added nerves though. He approaches as casually as possible and smiles when Eddie looks over.

The man does a double-take when he sees Steve. His eyebrows shoot up and he pushes off against the wall to stand straighter.

"Hi, Eddie?" Steve steps up onto the curb with a little wave. Eddie gives him a thorough once over.

"Oh, damn. Hi." He pulls a hand out of his pocket to shake Steve's.

Eddie is pretty up close. He's got long eyelashes and a bridge of little freckles across his nose. Steve notices all the little details that the on-stage photos didn't capture. He wonders if Wayne described what he looked like to Eddie who was at an informational disadvantage.

"I don't know what I was expecting you to look like, but my uncle didn't mention you were model pretty." Eddie tucks one of his big curls behind his ear and then steps forward to open the door. Steve's face gets warm at being called "model pretty", but he's terrible at taking compliments. He tries to redirect the conversation.

"Your uncle?" Steve asks.

"Wayne? My uncle?" Eddie motions towards the open door and follows after Steve once he's inside.

"Oh. You know he tells people that you're his son?"

Eddie's face softens and he scratches at his cheek. "Oh. Yeah well, I basically am. Maybe I should start calling him dad, I don't know."

"We don't take walk-ins." The hostess of the restaurant announces, breaking up their small talk. Steve looks over to see a tall woman with a slicked-back ponytail mad-dogging them. She has a cold demeanor, she kills the mood with one look between them. Steve knows the look, he's sure Eddie does too.

"Good to know! I have a reservation, though." Eddie responds.

"What's the name?" The woman pulls her iPad closer to herself like a shield.

"Munson." Eddie glances at Steve nervously.

"Hm. I don't see it." She pretends, tapping around meaninglessly. Eddie is getting agitated and maybe embarrassed too. He's scratching at his arm, unsure of how to proceed. First dates are already so awkward, especially blind ones. And if there's one thing about Steve, it's that he's gonna try to lighten the mood.

"Don't you know who he is?" Steve asks offendedly. Eddie whips around to look at Steve with wide, panic-filled eyes. The hostess raises an eyebrow and looks more closely at Eddie. It makes Steve chuckle. "I'm just kidding, let's go get burgers or something." He grabs Eddie's hand and pulls him back out the door.

"Holy shit, you scared me. I didn't know you knew who I was." Eddie has a hand on his chest and a wild grin. "She definitely didn't."

"I was just messing around. She did not want to seat our gay date." Steve sticks his hands in his pockets and then remembers Eddie's gift. "Oh but hey! I got you something."

Steve pulls out a nice bar of chocolate and a little tin of black pearly guitar picks. He offers them to Eddie with an open palm.

"Oh, what? You didn't have to do that." Eddie grabs them eagerly and slides open the tin. "This is so nice! How'd you know I've been needing picks? Now I feel doubly bad about dinner falling through."

"Hey, if I'm honest, sit-down dinner dates kind of give me anxiety. Too much pressure to keep the conversation going." Steve pulls out his keys, "You like burgers?"

Eddie huffs dramatically. "My palette is far too sophisticated for greasy burgers, Steve. I'm a chicken nugget man, obviously."

"That makes sense. You look like one." Steve teases. Eddie pouts.

"I'm taking that as a compliment."

"If you want nuggets we can just walk down the street. Unless you want me to drive?" Steve points in the direction of the row of fast-food restaurants.

"Yeah, let's walk."

Steve slowly turns and starts walking, glancing invitingly over his shoulder.

"So you know me." Eddie rattles the tin of guitar picks and looks a little worried by the prospect that Steve is some sort of fan.

"Only through your uncle, really. And maybe a short Google search. Sue me." Steve holds up his hands guiltily.

"Oh yeah, Wayne's my marketing manager. I send him out to spread the good word."

"Well I don't know who you've been instructing him to market to, but he's spending all his time in my store making me read book summaries to him because he conveniently forgets his glasses every time he comes in." Steve deadpans. Eddie chuckles and shakes his head knowingly.

"Yeah, It's this new long-con form of marketing. We decided to go all in for just one new fan." Eddie's got these sweet little dimples on either cheek when he smiles.

"Kinda worked, I dunno. I'm charmed by the Munsons." Steve and Eddie are veering towards each other as they walk. They're set to collide like two little asteroids. When they do end up bumping shoulders, it's soft. They stay close after that.

Steve hears a truly horrible sound coming from a bar a few meters ahead of them.

"Oh shit! Karaoke bar!" Eddie exclaims and speeds over. Eddie stands in front of the fenced-off patio and looks in while someone butchers Guns N' Roses. He looks absolutely delighted.

"What, you want to go show off in front of these poor, tone-deaf drunkards?" Steve rests his arms on the little fence and leans forward. Eddie vehemently disagrees.

"God no, I just like hearing all the very talented Midwestern voices." Eddie wiggles his eyebrows to express his sarcasm. "In other words, I enjoy making fun of bad music. I'm only human."

They sit there and give each other pained looks at the bad voices for a few minutes until someone starts trying to drunkenly stumble over the verse to a Nicki Minaj song and then Eddie drags Steve away in anguish.

"Can't take it anymore, Steve. Spare me."

***

The two of them have a good rapport, Steve thinks as they sit on a curb and share a big box of chicken nuggets. Maybe Wayne was right. It's playful. He can see how Eddie and Wayne share a handful of mannerisms and a sense of humor.

"Let's intertwine our arms like newlyweds do when they drink champagne," Steve says with a ketchup-covered chicken nugget in his hand. He wraps an arm around Eddie's and then takes a bite. Eddie follows his lead and giggles.

"I didn't know they did that. I've never been to a wedding." Eddie swallows and reaches for his soda.

"What? Never?"

Eddie shakes his head and looks up at the night sky. It's too cloudy to see any stars, unfortunately.

"My tux is in the car, by the way, should things pan out tonight." Steve jokes.

"I think they're panning." Eddie winks and leans in slightly.

"Oh yeah? Have I lived up to Wayne's description of me?" Steve bats his eyelashes and gives Eddie a sweet little smile.

"You've exceeded it, sweetheart." Eddie picks up Steve's hand and presses a chaste kiss to the inside of his wrist. Steve's heart jumps. When Eddie pulls back, he doesn't pull back far.

"Do you ever kiss on a first date?" Eddie whispers and squeezes Steve's hand. He glances at Steve's lips.

"Mmm, I could be persuaded." Steve feels a heady rush at the fact that he has somehow won the interest of a successful musician who probably meets loads of people every day. Steve reaches forward and tugs at one of Eddie's loose curls. He twists it around his finger and looks up with big doe eyes.

The tension is cut from Eddie's body when Steve looks at him like that. The move has a pretty good success rate at this point. And it doesn't fail him tonight. Eddie rests a hand on the base of Steve's neck. He strokes his thumb back and forth against the hollow of Steve's collarbone and leans in slowly.

Eddie's warm lips press against his own gently, experimentally. Their lips make a sweet sound when the suction is broken and Eddie's immediately reseal against Steve like he's irresistible. It's been forever since Steve kissed anyone, especially anyone worth kissing. He forgot how sweet and floaty it feels.

The hand on Steve's collar slides up so it's lightly holding his neck, it feels quietly possessive. It makes Steve's face heat up. Eddie's free arm wraps around Steve's waist pulling him closer. He lets himself be pulled.

Eddie starts getting more confident and hums softly when Steve weaves a hand into his long hair.

Steve could keep this up for hours, he wants to. But as dark as it is, he doesn't love the idea of continuing this so out in the open. He pulls back with regret.

"Damn, how are you not already taken?" Eddie wipes at Steve's shiny lips with his thumb.

"How are you not already taken? You're the accomplished one." Steve counters, squeezing one of Eddie's knees.

Eddie gathers their trash around them and stuffs it into the paper bag. "Well, I'll be home for a while if you'd want to do this again sometime. I can take you to a nice restaurant next time, I promise." He stands to throw away the trash. "Damn, I don't want the night to be over..."

"It doesn't have to be, you're welcome at mine." Steve leans back on one of his hands and bats his eyelashes up at Eddie.

"My New Year's resolution was to not do first date hookups, though."

"We don't have to, just come hang out." Steve holds an arm out to be pulled up to his feet from where he’s still sitting on the curb.

"Oh, yeah okay. You want me to?" Eddie pulls him to his feet with more force than necessary. It sends them both stumbling and giggling.

"Obviously I want you to."

***

The walk back to the restaurant is much faster than it was at the start of the night. They regretfully have to split at the parking lot, each having their own ride.

"Wait, call me so we can still talk on the way there." Eddie requests before jogging off to Wayne's truck. There really isn't much need to talk on the phone since Steve lives so close, but it's kind of cute that he wants to. Steve hits the call button on Eddie's contact.

"Hello, to whom am I speaking?" Eddie asks in a formal, over-the-top voice.

"This is Steve Harrington. I'm contacting you regarding your car's extended warranty." Steve backs out of his spot and waits for Eddie to do the same before driving out of the parking lot.

"Oh wow, what a coincidence. I was just wondering if my car had an extended warranty." Eddie always plays along, he digs into all of Steve's jokes and finds his own spot to grow there.

Steve drives slower than he normally would so that he doesn't get separated from his date. Eddie doesn't appreciate the sentiment.

"You drive like a grandpa. Has anyone ever told you that?" Eddie laughs and honks his horn. Steve hears it both over the phone and from his window.

"I'm only driving slow so we don't get separated, asshole."

"There's barely anyone on the road tonight to separate us, but it's fine, Steve. I value your safety. Drive at your comfortable geriatric pace."

When they pull up to a red light, Eddie instructs Steve to roll down his window so they can stick their hands out and play Rock Paper Scissors. Steve is so distracted watching Eddie's hand through his side mirror that he misses when the light turns.

"It's green, honey," Eddie alerts him softly through the phone, and Steve apologizes.

He's smiling real big the whole way there and when Steve eventually gets out of the car, Eddie comes up and grabs him from behind.

Eddie plants a few eager kisses on the side of Steve's neck. "You're fun, Steve."

"I'll show you real fun some other time." He jokes and pulls Eddie towards his place.

As soon as Steve opens the door to his apartment, he feels self-conscious about how dull it looks inside. Eddie looks around quietly. His eye catches on a picture of Steve and Robin.

"That's my best friend, Robin." Steve clarifies, just in case Eddie reads it wrong like dates have in the past.

Eddie smiles and pulls Steve back against his chest. "She looks nice."

"Looks can be deceiving." Steve laments which has Eddie chuckling into his shoulder. Eddie rubs at Steve's tummy.

What Steve really wants, what he's been desperate for, for months and months is human touch. He just wants to cuddle so badly. And Eddie doesn't seem the type to cuddle, but looks can be deceiving, so Steve's gonna ask anyway.

"Wanna cuddle and watch trash reality TV?" Steve's shoulders rise to his ears, it's a defensive gesture and he's expecting to be rejected. Eddie looks slightly amused by his offer, but he nods.

***

"So you liked him alright?" Wayne asks smugly patting the counter. Steve nervously watches the back of the store where Amber is reorganizing. Steve shouldn't be having a conversation like this at work while she's around.

"Yes, Wayne." Steve rolls his eyes. "Your nephew is lovely."

"I told him he should come here with me next time. Maybe we'll both visit ya." Wayne looks happy. The corners of his default frown have been pulled upwards by the return of his nephew. He's a good man. Steve thinks if his kid was only home a few weeks he'd want to hoard all of his attention, surely not set him up on dates.

And that's the thing about Wayne, it seems like he puts the people he cares about first. Steve wonders if Wayne is all that lonely when Eddie's gone, or if he just comes into the store so often because he knows Steve is.

"I'd love that." Steve hopes things work out with the Munsons.

[artinvain]

Toxic bff Abby that denies she is in love with you but is extremely possessive over you and basically treats you like her gf, but still fucks other girls imagining you; getting jealous seeing ANYONE else come near you. NEED IT PLS

toxic!bff!abby x reader

Abby’s so insecure and she lets it rule everything she does. she can't seem to get it right -- more plot and angst than i intended. lesbian smut under the cut - men and minors dni

*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧

it happens every time. abby gets drunk when you have a fight and does something stupid to forget about you. she could see you dancing up against her from the rival basketball team. and although abby would usually rip you from their arms and dance with you herself — feel your ass grind up against her crotch, let you control where her hands went as you dance — she can’t do that tonight.

abby had seen you at the bar for the pre-party, the girl you’re with buying you drinks, resting her hand on your thigh, inching ever so close to your face and leaning in for a kiss, and abby seethed with every brush of your lips. finally seeing red when you get down from your bar stool to stand between her legs.

abby could see the girl you were with now and it coloured her vision crimson. ellie fucking williams. of all people you could flirt with. abby had to think you were being vindictive — trying to get back at her for when she ditched you to get with tammy instead of take you to an art gallery like she’d promised for weeks.

It wasn’t completely her fault although abby could come up with a million excuses to absolve herself but the prevailing one would always be that she was a fucking coward. it felt too much like a date. a real date that she wants to take you on — not as her friend. but abby couldn't stand the thought of you rejecting her.

she could see it so vividly in her head -- you turning away from her, your face contorted in distaste "but abby, we're just friends." you would say "i could never see you like that." and abby would understand. because you were too good for her -- too smart, funny, kind, you gave her too many chances because your heart is so big. abby didn't deserve someone who could colour the world and scrub out the black and white monotony of every day life.

abby didn't realise she was gripping your arm so tight it could be bruising, she'd been glowering down at ellie, seething and her mouth practically foamed with her hard ragged breaths. "the fuck is wrong with you anderson?" ellie snarls, abby twists her mouth and "you, are all over my best friend,"

"and you're best friend -- who is right here -- is fine with it," you snatch your arm from abby's grip. you couldn't even fight her at this point. she was colder to you recently, she sold you excuses for her distance, came to your apartment still dewy and smelling like someone else. she'd been rubbing it in your face that she wanted nothing to do with you. you ignored that she didn't reply when you'd casually told her you loved her after she dropped you off at home last week. but you couldn't keep walking into apartment as other women walked out past you, a drunken smile plastered on their faces. she did this every few weeks and you were sick of it, but this time was worse than usual.

"go hang out with tammy or whoever," you back into ellie rubbing your arm and abby swallowed, her eyes catching yours -- hollow as they'd never been when looking at her. but just last week you had told her you loved her. could that change so quickly? had she gone too far? abby's fists clenched, bouncing on her weak knees.

"I- we need to talk," abby says without thinking and she immediately wanted to punch herself.

'talk about what?' abby thought to herself, she could never tell you that she loved you back, that more than that she worshipped you. she could neve tell you that every time she looked at you -- she fought not to let her face heat up. abby couldn't tell you that her chest puffed up with pride that she could call you -- something so precious hers. her best friend. you are the only person she ever wanted to be around really.

"I'm leaving," you say with a deep breath as ellie puts a few paper bills on the bar counter, one in the tip jar and slides her hand onto the small of your back. "get yourself together. i'll see you later maybe."

now abby had to watch you dance with ellie, smiling with your arms draped over should shoulders while ellie whispered in your ear. she downed her shot and then decided not to beat ellie up because she didn't want to be benched the entire season. so, instead she put her jacket on and approached you with her head hanging low.

your movements halt as abby stands near the both of you, "can we talk?" abby asks, her watery blue eyes slowly rising to meet yours. you sigh and turn to kiss ellie's cheek goodnight before leading abby out of the house and down the street.

"I'm really sorry," abby says as you walk slow into the crisp autumn evening.

"for what abby?"

"everything," she shrugs and tries a chuckle but coughs awkwardly when you glare at her. "so, you don't have anyone to take home tonight?" you question and abby sighs, running her hands over her face. "come on, don't be like that," abby says and stops in front of her truck opening the passenger door for you.

"I'm not getting in unless you tell me what you're sorry for."

abby groans, clenching her jaw and resting her hands against her bumper, leaning on it and ducking her head.

"I'm sorry I've been such a sloppy asshole this week. I'm sorry i tried to make you jealous and I'm sorry that I didn't reply when you said it. because I should have."

you know what abby is talking about but god, she can't even say it. it fucking wrecks you because she doesn't value you enough to even tell you what you mean to her, if you mean anything at all. you start to walk past her, "hey wait, oh my god -- I love you!"

abby yells, her mouth parts but no other words come to her. she swallows thickly when you turn around, the tears on your face matching hers.

"I'm sorry I'm a fucking idiot and I didn't tell you sooner but i don't love you like a friend. I am in love with you, okay? and - and I'm a shitty person and I don't wanna mess us up,"

abby can't stand your silence but when she looks up, there you are. standing so close to her she can feel your warm breath on her cheeks.

"do you promise to at least give us a chance?"

abby, cups the back of your neck and presses a soft kiss to your mouth as her answer, pulls your body flush to her so she can lean over you and lick into your mouth. moan as you suck on her tongue.

"m'sorry, so sorry sweetheart," abby whispers in between kisses as she feels your tears on her cheeks, "let me make it up to you."

abby drives you not far down the road to her place, her hand on your all the time, pressing kisses to your knuckles until she shuts the door behind you and kisses you again, this time her hands going down to your ass, gripping and squeezing, her mouth beginning to pepper kisses up and down your neck.

you whine when abby backs you into the hallway of her loft, behind the kitchen wall ands falls on top of you on her bed. "i swear to god, everything will be different," abby moans, as you grip her hand and bring it to your breast, where she takes the liberty to start pressing kisses to your chest, removing your clothes feverishly. you whine as she pulls away from you, catching her breath.

"do you not?" you ask shakily and abby cups your cheek.

"i do, i do. i just wanted it to be different. I didn't want to be fighting with you." abby whimpers when you grip her and pull her close so she's laying on top of you. "then, show me it'll be different."

abby takes her time lathering you chest when she removes your bra, kissing your tits and moaning as she sucks your nipples into her mouth, her hips starting to falter against you thigh. no matter how many women she'd been with. she never could get off. she didn't feel much of anything unless she thought of you, played your three words over and over again in her mind. but now, now she had the real thing and she's too desperate stop herself.

she flicks her fingers over your wet nipples, "so fucking pretty," she whines against you, massaging your tits and sucking marks between your chest as she pulls them close to her chest, moaning and grinding down on your hips going again to suck and swap nipples to wet and play with while your hips started to buck against hers.

"shit fuck, m'gonna cum, fuck i'm so sorry," she's utterly embarrassed, hides her face in your neck and she whines loudly, her fingers still playing with your nipples as she cums. you gasp and chuckle, unbelievably wetter at watching her cum just from sucking on your tits.

"i'm so fucking sorry-" "for what? for feeling good?" you mumble and press a kiss to her mouth, guiding her hand between the two of you so she can feel how wet she's making you, "always been a mess f'me," she groans, her fingers starting to circle your clit, hearing you moan she ducks her head into your neck again to kiss and mark you.

"i love you," abby moans as her fingers dig into your panties and start to slide into you, your gummy, wet walls inviting her in. "christ, you're so wet," she moans and she kisses down your torso and removes your shorts and panties, her mouth latching to your clit and she starts moaning, licking and twist her head so she's making circles on your clit while her fingers curl and fuck into you.

"fuck, abby! yes, yes please more," you yelp, your legs falling open and abby pulls them over her shoulders licking the wetness around her fingers in your cunt and groaning as she does so at your taste, another finger twisting into your sweet pussy she can't help but grin against you, licking and lapping at your clit, as you cum, her thumb coming to circle it instead.

"you look so pretty all fucked out f'me," she moans, pressing a hand down on your belly and fucking her fingers deeper, moaning at the way your mouth falls open, and your legs start to shake, "i love you, i fucking love you baby," she whines and you're spurting against her hand, licking up over your clit and sucking it, your taste filling her mouth.

"swear i'm gonna be better, i promise," abby says as she gently caresses you, cupping your cheek and rubbing her hands over your body. abby silently presses a sticky kiss to your temple and disappears as you catch your breath.

"haven't used it with anyone else," abby assures you when you look at her strap on quizzical and yet biting your lip as she clambers over you. "you're everything to me, i'm so sorry for everything," abby says as she lines herself up with you, her strap already covered in lube. you nod when abby hovers over you and she sighs when she finally sinks into you, your eyes crossing at the way it curls perfectly into your gspot, the ridged cock stimulating every part of your pussy.

"was saving this for you- fuck," she whimpers as the strap starts to vibrate against her and you whine loudly as it tremors inside you. "wanted to feel this good with you and you only" she moans gasping into your mouth as you press her close when abby starts to fucking into you.

you're both so overstimulated it doesn't take much of her deep, wet thrusts until you're crying against her shoulder, biting into it as you both cum again. you push abby out at the pain of the overstimulation and she rips the strap off of her in the same manner, turning it off.

after abby rocks you both to sleep, she's woken by her phone ringing, at reading the caller ID she moves into her bathroom, pressing a kiss to your shoulder and whispering into the phone.

"i fucking told you not to call," abby whispers, turning over to look at your sleeping form under her sheets.

"no, tammy -- enough. I'm done fucking around," she groans and near hangs up until tammy whispers something over the line, something you can't quite make out, all you can hear is.

"jesus christ, okay, I'll be over soon."

"where are you going?" you ask as abby gets dressed, "tammy-" "are you fucking serious?" you chuckle in disbelief pulling your clothes on in a hurry.

"no, you don't understand -- wait!" abby calls as you pick your jacket up from off the floor and shuffle your shoes on.

"I'm done waiting for you abby. you couldn't even last a day."

"please, stay -- i just, you don't understand," abby pleads, holding onto your forearm.

"then explain,"

abby fumbles for something, anything. you weren't supposed to hear anything, you were supposed to stay asleep. abby just needed to be gone a few hours, she just needed to take care of things with tammy one last time and then she was yours. she just wanted to make sure.

"so, you're not sure you love me?" you roll your eyes as abby rubs her face in her hands.

"if i stay, abby, what does that say about me?" you sniffle and snatch your arm from her grip for the last time today.

"i hope you get what you're looking for anderson," you nod and pull your phone out of your pocket, texting ellie to pick you up if she was still awake.

ellie: be there in 2 mins.

"see you around," you purse your lips and close the door behind you, your ears rushing with blood so loudly you can't hear abby breaking into sobs behind the door.

tags: @lesbian-useless @sexysapphicshopowner @iamaboringrattat @sapphicsgirl @bimboprincezz

[eaterofman]

Yandere Coworker Harem x New Hire Reader: A Meeting with the CEO

Follow up to this post

Finally fed up with it all, you decide to leave... but you learn it may not be that easy.

Content Warnings: General creepiness, yanderes, financial manipulation, manipulation, power difference, gaslighting

AN: Holy shit the first part blew up, more so than any post I've ever made on tumblr... ever. Thank y'all, and I hope this lives up to everyone's expectations? Had to ignore a few asks since they were essentially the plot to this part, haha.

As nice as Jake is... it starts to wear on you. The seclusion from your other coworkers, Warren and Jax's constant attention, it all becomes too much. This was the easiest money you've ever made, but it almost felt... condescending in a way. Seriously, you feel like you haven't actually worked in months, just given simple tasks to complete so that Jax could praise you. Otherwise, you felt like you were just eye candy set in a pretty office. No more, you figure. You make up your mind to go back to HR, it's been a long time coming. They either fix it, or you're gone.

With your mind made up, you return to Leon. He'd been so kind before, surely he'd help, right? As you explain your problems to him, he nods and gently smiles. In your distress, you don't notice his hand moving to cover yours, massaging yours comfortingly. You welcome the comforting sensation, overwhelmed to the point of not really considering the implications. You look into his dark eyes as you finish, silently pleading with him for help.

"That really is something. I'm sorry to hear your experience with the company has been so distressing. Tell me, do you have any proof?"

His demeanor seems to shift instantly back to the colder man you remember from your first sight of him. His fingers rubbing gentle circles into your palm shift into a harsher grip.

"Proof? I-I mean, the cameras have probably caught something?"

You'd say there were eyewitnesses, but all of your other coworkers had been avoiding you. You barely even knew their names...

"Unfortunately, our cameras have been malfunctioning lately, I doubt they'd catch anything. Without any actual witnesses, I'm afraid I can't do anything for you."

"How can you say that without even looking? This place is insane- you know what? I'm just quitting. I can't take this anymore."

You try to remove your hand but he keeps it there. His gaze is suddenly ice cold. He lets your hand go after a few moments of tension, fingers lingering before you yank your hand to your chest.

"Ah, you could quit... but I'd really recommend against it. You'd of course have to pay the dues you signed in your contract, as well as any additional fees. I'm not in charge of finances, but my estimate would be somewhere around... 200 thousand or so?"

You gasp, blood running cold. 200 thousand?! You don't remember signing that, but you also don't recall really reading over the contract in your excitement. You try to think of a way out, surely there had to be some sort of loophole-

"Of course, there's always the option of asking the CEO to change your contract, but..."

You'd tuned anything after that out, insisting to meet with the CEO as soon as possible. Which, to your surprise, was almost immediately. Almost like he'd been... waiting for you? Leon himself lead you to the CEO's room, at the very top of the skyscraper your office resided in. As you're let in, you're met with the biggest office you'd ever seen. It composed of the entire top floor of the skyscraper, massive windows encircling the entire ornate office.

You really try to ignore the feeling that you're walking into a trap.

The CEO was patiently waiting for you. Like a king on a throne, he sat in the middle of the room in front of a surprisingly simple desk. You'd heard of the CEO, Kennedy Grey, but you'd never met him in person before. He had an air of sophistication around him, an older gentlemen with salt and pepper hair and a well trimmed beard. His suit was pristine and looked expensive, probably costing more than your entire yearly salary. He smiled, urging the two of you to sit. His eyes glanced over to Leon's, a slight smirk on his face as if the two were in on a joke you weren't.

"So, what brings you two here? I've heard very good things about you from Jax. Things are going well, I presume?"

You fidget, despite his welcoming tone, he felt oddly... menacing. Like you weren't supposed to disagree with him, even if he asked you a question. You begin to explain your issues, but are quickly stopped with a firm look of disapproval when you bring up the idea of leaving the company.

"Now now, we can't have that, can we? With your contract, that wouldn't be a very smart idea, would it?"

Before you can even respond, he simply continues to talk over you.

"No, no it wouldn't. And you've just been such a good worker, we'd just hate to lose you."

"Well, I was actually hoping we could talk about the contract, I just don't think it's fair-" you can barely get your thoughts out as he cuts you off again.

"Unfair? But my dear, you signed it. I'd just hate to get my lawyers involved... they're top of the line, y'know? Besides, you don't actually want to leave, you're just... stressed. What do you need, a paid week off? A bonus for your hard work?"

"No-"

"Well, now that that's done, let's get back to work, shall we? You'll have a bonus on your next pay-"

You've had enough of his condescension and interruptions, it's time for you to interrupt him.

"You know what, I'll take the lawsuit. You people are insane. You can have the money if you want, but I'm out of here."

As you get up, you find you can't. Leon has moved behind you, surprisingly strong arms holding your chair in, preventing you from moving. You look up at him in angered confusion, but he's sharing a look with Kennedy. You once again feel like you're missing an important part of an inside joke again. You try to struggle, but you're stopped as Kennedy interrupts.

"Apartment 101, Evergreen Apartments, right?"

"W-wha-"

"You know, I've been venturing into the rental market recently. Very profitable at the moment. I actually just bought a few buildings in your area, including your little apartment. Such a shame, you know you could do better, right? All you have to do is ask..."

He smiles at you as if this was a normal conversation to him, like he was doing you a favor.

"I guess that makes me your landlord now, if you think about it!" his smile turns colder, eyes crinkling like he's laughing at you, "That being said, I just don't see how you're going to pay for the rent increase without this job. I hate to do it, but it's a necessity, y'know? Cost of living and such."

He waves his hand like it's no big deal, like he isn't playing with your livelihood and threatening you.

"You could move out, of course, but well, word gets around, and I just don't know how the other investors in the area would react to your... history."

You feel dread well up in the pit of your stomach and tears in your eyes. He... has you. What could you even do? Moving out of the city would mean starting over, and that's if you could even find a place and a job to pay for said place, and paying for the lawsuit-

In your panic, you can only whimper, "I just... why? Why me? i don't understand-"

"That's the beauty of it all, you don't have to. All you have to worry about is coming in and doing your job. We'll handle all the rest."

You jump, having almost forgotten Leon was behind you in your panic. You go to open your mouth-

"Wonderful insight, Leon. Now that we're all on the same foot, let's get back to work, shall we?"

You can only numbly nod your head, too overwhelmed to continue fighting.

You're finally allowed to sit up and begin walking towards the door, trying to speed walk out of the huge room that somehow managed to feel claustrophobic. You just wanted out at this point, you needed somewhere to think.

As you step into the elevator, Leon staying behind in the office-thank god-you're interrupted one final time.

"Oh, and I meant what I said. If you ever need any assistance, anything at all, just come to me. All you have to do is ask."

[cool-island-songs]

Analysis of ALNST Character Relationship Metrics

My art book won't be here for a minute, but I ran some screenshots I saw on twt through an image translator and have a lot of thoughts:

TILL: Despite claiming to hate everyone in the world, Till ranks Ivan at 70% intimacy even as he identifies perturbing behaviors of Ivan's going back years and refers to him as "a bother". He also ranks Sua at 10% in spite of having little to say about her and finding it uncomfortable to be around her.

Though he postures at being misanthropic and has all the manners you'd expect of a boy who was half off at the human child pound, he's actually quite gentle and sensitive. This is reflected in one of the graduation messages he's left by a classmate as well:

The person he feels closest to is an unattainable crush, and someone who doesn't feel that close with him in return, likely because he's too shy to really approach her or carry on a conversation.

MIZI: That's Mizi, of course, who's rather childlike and naive initially. She likes everyone, but since Till chokes when he tries to speak to her and often keeps his distance, she wonders if he's avoiding her because he dislikes her.

Mizi gravitates towards people who she sees as "perfect", which is how she describes Ivan and Sua in her graduation message to Ivan:

She doesn't see the darker side of Ivan's personality (which has been described on several occasions, even by himself, as "twisted") because he's attractive, successful, and helpful to her.

Though she likes everyone, Sua is her "God", and the only thing that can keep them apart is the tragedy of their situation, which forces Mizi to grow up in a brutally painful way.

SUA: Sua is far less idealistic and naive than Mizi, and has clearly thought about sacrificing herself to save Mizi, since Ivan picks on her for thinking of doing so in an official comic. Accordingly, her feelings about Mizi are far more tinged by the knowledge that they will one day be torn apart by external circumstances. She laments that reciprocating her feelings will one day cause Mizi great pain.

She's always been more somber, and despite her surface similarities to Ivan (which he notes in a follow-up comic wherein he realizes he was wrong about Sua's feelings for Mizi being unrequited), she's quite different on the inside. Sua's more sensitive and thus her colder exterior serves to protect her, whereas Ivan's outward persona creates an illusion of normalcy that doesn't reflect his reality.

Sua views Ivan and Till as a threat and a nuisance, respectively. Like Till, she senses something strange about Ivan, and when it comes to Till, it's just one person too many around for her. This is fascinating to me, because I thought she might pity Till! Her feelings about Ivan were already pretty clear from this panel of the 'piggyback' comic, and she seems deeply hurt in the first comic linked by his prodding.

IVAN: For his part, Ivan is fascinated by Till even though he's content to sit back and observe, pestering him to get a reaction or his attention for a brief time. He doesn't expect anything in return but wants more than anything to be on Till's mind (hence behaviors like stealing Till's belongings and returning them to him, pretending he had found them).

He prefers Sua to Mizi despite his awareness that Sua doesn't particularly like him, seeing her as a sister and even telling her she's "twisted" like he is. He likes Mizi well enough, especially her sincerity, but seems to find her optimism a bit much at times.

The fact that Mizi and the others would likely consider Ivan and Mizi quite close while Ivan does not reflects how much he postures even in his closest relationships. He struggles to connect with those he's most compelled by and it's not clear if he really wants to.

Some Ivantill thoughts before I go:

There seems to be a common sentiment that it's tragic Till was unable to see how much Ivan loved him, and I think we'll likely get more of Till's perspective on Ivan and their relationship in round 7. But it may not be the case that Ivan even wanted his true feelings to be seen, or would have known what to do if Till had reciprocated them.

There's something almost voyeuristic and self-negating in his feelings for Till (see: "I can’t reach you, so I imagine alone/You who shines, I stand next to you" from 'Black Sorrow'). He has far more self-awareness and willingness to accept things as they are than Till, who doesn't see that Mizi only has eyes for Sua and who would likely struggle to accept that reality.

Ivan, on the other hand, is well aware that his feelings for Till are "shallow", a bright fantasy to get him through his dark reality, and he seems to sincerely believe that his death won't scar Till because he's never really broken through to him. He's a schemer, and comments he makes in his graduation message to Till and the interview he gives in advance of round 6 suggest that he may have been planning to sacrifice himself for some time.

Part of me wonders if he hoped it would leave a mark on Till. Choking, kissing, and violently sacrificing oneself are all aggressive, forward acts, especially from someone who used to toy with people to get his kicks but was otherwise quite passive and unfeeling.

There are a lot of parallels in the one-sided loves, like Till acting out of his usual character for Mizi, and Ivan doing the same because of Till, putting all hopes of being saved in something just out of reach, staying in chains for that one special person. But Ivan's psychology is quite different from Till's, and in fact closest to Luka's re: low or no empathy. Both Ivan and Till are significantly traumatized by their upbringings but Ivan's difficult early life in the slums and his experience being dangled off that rooftop seem to have damaged his ability to connect to others or feel much of anything.

Till is the first person for whom he feels anything while for Till, Mizi is an early crush he puts on a pedestal in a much more commonplace way. I think the shared trauma of competing on that stage makes it much more difficult for either of them to imagine moving on, but Ivan is not wrong in identifying that he won't find that feeling again.

The thing that intrigues me most about this series is the way the contestants' differences play out, particularly with regard to how they view love and how they respond to their individual and shared challenges. I'd love to get into it further another time but this is quite long already so thanks for sticking with it if any have (haha)

[xqueen-of-disasterx]

Congrats on 1k! Absolutely love your work, especially the darker fics.

Can I request step-sis intersex!Nat walking in on reader as she's asleep and deciding that she's finally going to take her for herself? Nat starts eating reader out to get her wet and the reader moans Nat's name in her sleep, so Nat wakes her up so she can really enjoy it.

Thinking that maybe Nat ties the readers hands above her head, as Nat forces her huge cock inside the readers tiny body, creating a belly bulge. Finishing inside her to breed her and then making the reader cock-warm her so that she can stay full. Belly rubbing because Nat is obsessed with the sight of her cock inside her innocent little step-sis.

Kinks: bondage, breeding, dub-con that turns consensual, somnophilia, belly bulge, Daddy kink and thinking cock-warming too.

Thank you!

Closer

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: fem!reader x step-sis!Nat

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐲: Having your beloved step sister back home for the summer turned more pleasant than expected.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, DUB-con, but the reader is very into it, amab!Nat, dom!Nat, sub!reader, age gap (legal), taboo relationship, kinda mean Nat, tattooed Nat (Nat is just the stereotypical bad boy), innocent!reader, Daddy!kink, alcohol use, bondage, breeding kink, somnophila, cock warming, size kink?

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional. I do not own these characters!

𝐀/𝐍: kisses from the hospital guys enjoy the first park of the 1k special I’ll post more requests soon. This request was really fun to write

𝐌.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Natasha knew how wrong it was to feel that kind of way about her step sister, but she was only a human too. Ever since she had came to visit her father for this summer she couldn't help herself but see you in a different light.

Back when her dad first started to live with your mother, she only had eyes for the many girls tendering to her, who were in her grade or above. She never really noticed you, of course you were her annoying little step sister who could've guessed you'd turn into this?

You weren't innocent either, you were always found of Natasha. In your eyes she was the coolest person you'd know, with her blue tainted hair and fast cars, you were heart broken whenever you saw a different girl enter her room.

Natasha soon went away for college, meaning you'd only get to see her for the holidays which was still enough to keep you crushing on her. It was special that she visited this summer especially since you just turned 18.

This summer had been unusual hot for the colder climate of Ohio, but it's not like you were complaining to see Nat in all those wifebeaters and sport bras. She normally rummaged in the garden, laying at the pool, again in sports bras and swim trunks. It made your cheeks heat, your stomach feel weird, and every once in a while when you saw how she climbed out of the pool, the muscles under her wet skin flexing, it made you feel all itchy down there.

Another hot summer day, another day where you'd relax under the water sprinkler in your backyard, just like you did when you were a child. Except for a pair of eyes watching from the pool. Natasha Romanoff, your step- sister, whose eyes hid under her shades, watched every move of yours. She sat by the pool shirtless to "tan", Natasha never tanned, she had the skin colour of a porcelain doll and always used the highest sunscreen to not end up looking like a lobster. No, she was there to observe, not the local birds, or nature, no, you. How could anyone be so carless, she asked herself as she watched your white camisole top turn translucent.

Shortly after realising what she was doing she, or better what your view did to her prick, she looked back on her phone scrolling on a black screen to look less suspicious. But it's not like you would've noticed anyway, Natasha knew how innocent you were, how your mother had sheltered you in contrast to herself. God, get yourself together Natasha, she thought to herself. If she wanted she could've get a hook up here within the day, but it wouldn't help last time she tried she accidentally moaned your name while cumming. Something so utterly embarrassing the girl left immediately after.

"Natty" you ask in an innocent voice, every other person calling the other woman that wouldn't stand here today, but she let it slide. "What's up" She asked as her eyes wandered over your wet body to which your clothes clanged. Natasha never was a religious person but in this moment she thanked god for the invention of sunglasses.

"Can you get me towel from inside" you asked giving her your best bambi eyes. "Go get it yourself, I'm not your personal servant" She scoffed "Please, Tasha I'm all wet and I don't want it tripping on the floor board" She shook her head "You should've thought about that in the first place" She mumbled under her breath but still got up to get you your towel. She could never say no to one of your pleads.

"Thank you" you grinned and wrapped you up in one of this big fluffy towels. She smirked back at you her hands rubbing over your wet skin. "There you go sweetheart" She mumbled again feeling a tingle in her pants when her hands touched you.

"Where's mom?" You asked stepping into the large living area you parents had. "Out for dinner with my dad" She remarked not even looking up from the TV where some, for me, unimportant soccer game was running. "Why are you still standing there?" She asked in a dismissive tone "They'll be gone the whole night" Oh, the whole night just you and your step sister together, great. Nat chugged more of her beer side eyeing you to leave her alone, of course she wanted you close, closer than close, but you couldn't know that yet. Not to mention that with the more of the bitter liquid she had the less she could control her urges. 

It wasn't that wrong, she tried to tell herself, millions of guys before her had fucked their step sisters right? Eventually you opened your mouth again "I'll head to bed now" you started and only earned a little hum from her and some mumbled words you didn't understand before slipping on her beer bottle again. 

Her team lost, of course it did, Natasha turned the TV off rubbing her eyes before too going to her bed room but not without making another stop at your room. She slipped though the crack in the door closing it gently before taking a seat next you on the soft cushion of the bed. She always did that, making sure you were save and sound but tonight it was different. She was frustrated, and horney, one more than the other. 

"You're so pretty" she mumbled being lost deep in the haze of the alcohol and lust, she knew you couldn't hear her nor feel but she still gently wiped some lost hair behind your ear. You squirmed under her feather like touch. You rolled onto your back the blanket slipping from your body exposing your topless body. Fuck, you had forgotten to wear a shirt to bed, or had you? Nat saw it as an invitation to taste your sweet body. 

She stood up pulling her hoodie off to reveal a hard set of muscles covered in tattoos, she strangled your smaller body kissing the valley between your breasts before turning to kiss down your soft stomach. You squirmed again your hands trying to find something to grip on, Nat caught your hands bringing them above your head before using her abandoned top to tie your hands to the head board of your framed bed. 

Finally she could turn to your soaked panties tugging them off your legs, your step sister placed both of your legs on her shoulders giving you better access to your sleeping form. She kissed your pubic bone before taking a deep sniff of your glossy cunt. "let my taste you baby girl" She groaned before licking over your weeping pussy, you tasted fantastic better than any girl she had before you. 

Your clit was pulsing in need to be touched, standing proud from his hood Nat couldn't resist tasting the forbidden fruit. When she took your bubble of nerves in her mouth she couldn't believe her ears. "Nat" came a sob from your throat she let she teeth scrape over it just to check she wasn't completely mad "Natasha" now it was a full blown moan, she smiled getting more and more bold with her movements. 

She kept on licking away on your cunt and thankfully to her many years of experience with the girls in college she had you trembling towards the edge within minutes. She took your clit in her mouth again this time biting down gently, to wake you from your slumber you thought to yourself. 

"I- what" poor innocent you were to confused to even grasped what was happening to you you were lost in a haze of mind numbing pleasure until you tried to find to source of it. "Nat-?" you were interrupted by an almost pornographic moan breaking free from your throat. You winded your body on the bed tugging on the restrains before climaxing under her tongue. She made you ride out your orgasm before hushing your quiet sobs. "You're mine baby girl" she kissed your pelvis bone. "Nat we can't" you mumbled "No one needs to find out" She reassured you "Just say no and we'll forget a bout this all, but something tells me, little girl, you want me just as much as I want you"

"You’re right" you mumbled under your breath making Nat smirk she stood up again tugging off your boxers to reveal a dick of a size you had never seen before. Of course you didn't have much experience but she looked inhuman. "Nat it's not-" She hushed you "call me daddy" Instinctively you closed your legs making nat chuckle. "Too big" You mewled again "Oh bunny, I'll make it fit, daddy would never hurt her little girl" she reassured you her hands trailed down her body brushing over the small patch of her which made up her happy trail. She pried your legs open before pushing them to your chest. 

She alined herself with you before slowly pushing inside your small hole, bringing tears to your eyes. It felt like her dick suffocated by your tight velvet walls, when she finally did bottom you out she knew it was heaven of earth. She admired the small bulge forming on your lower stomach rubbing over it in an awe. 

She waited for you to at least try to adjust before setting a rapid pace giving you no breaks, it felt like she was trying to compare her performance with a machine. I string of moans and whispers left your throat as her hips kept pistoling into your tight heat. 

"Fuck" She groaned in between thrusts "I'm gonna fucking breed this little pussy. Wouldn't you like that daddy making you a mommy?" You were too dumbed down to even comprehend her words  and the self assigned title made you see stars. "Answer daddy" She commented slapping your tits which bounced with ever vigour truths of her hips. "Yes daddy" you mewl in ecstasy "make me your mommy" You moaned making your step sister grin. 

With a few more truths you were both on the edge of ecstasy, especially you saw the stars already. "Cum" she commanded "Fucking cum with me" another sting of curse words left her mouth before releasing her white juices inside of you triggering your own orgasm. After leaving your high she gently rubbed your belly again not dreaming of pulling out from your walls. "mine" she mumbled upon seeing the clear bugle she had formed in your stomach. She freed your hands kissing each of your wrists which made you giggle at the romantic gesture, as if she hadn't just fucked you into oblivion. 

She moved you to lay on top of her making you trace the fine lines of her tattoos, she was your step sister but from this night on she was much more than that. 

:)

[drgnflyteabox]

the lusty cabin-dweller

pairing: ghost / Simon riley x fem reader summary: your life gets wider when you find an injured man outside of your cabin. tags/warnings: Skyrim!ghost, secrets, graphic injuries, some angst, facial injuries, nursing Simon back to health one stew at a time <3, listen to this for the vibes, vaginal + anal sex, oral (f), animal attacks, blood, processing an animal for meat and fur, violence, death (non-major), mention of Skyrim racism, softdom!Simon, some backstory, please hmu if i forgot anything, one bed trope, simon backstory adapted to skyrim lol (so past abuse, murder, theft, domstic violence) but nothing graphic w.c: 5k

Honey-nut is squealing again. Some days you think she might not be worth the milk and cheese she gives you for all the trouble she causes. A high, strange bleating cuts through the chilled night air like a knife, sharp and terrifying only for a moment.

She's been at this since Frostfall. Maybe it was the weather causing Honey-nut distress - she was getting old, after all. For a goat.

In the time it takes you to trudge out of bed, pull on a wool shift and a fur, two things happen: one, Honey-nut stops bleating, and the woods surrounding your cottage becomes deathly silent.

Two, a crunch.

Just one, but it's enough. Someone is outside.

For a brief, hysterical moment, you worry for Honey-nuts safety. Have they hurt her to be quiet? No, you'd have heard that at least. Your breath comes fast, chest squeezing. Bandits? Probably not. It's a decent hike up to your wooden cottage. But it is nearing winter, and soon it will be Sun's Dusk. It's not unheard of that they'd be looking for a place to take over for the colder months.

Your hand goes to your heart, fingertips touching your throat. Be calm, you tell yourself. You aren't helpless, look. The axe, leaning by your front door. You can see in the dark well enough, and you're more familiar with your homestead than they are.

The axe feels right in your hands. Too-familiar, weighty, deadly. You touch your ear to the door, trying to reign in your fear. Nothing. Then, a wheeze, strangled and restrained like whoever it is can't afford to be heard. But you have heard it, and you push the door open.

"Show yourself!" You shout, voice surer than you feel. Your knees quake a little, but your grip on the axe is strong.

The animal pen is a mere few steps away from your front door. Past the front garden, it's wide open aside from the little shelter you built the past Mid Year. A foot sticks out, clad in armor.

"I'm armed," you add. "You're not getting anything from me!" The world is dark, the woods quiet. Adrenaline burns in you, bright enough to guide your steps.

"You gonna kill me with that, girl?"

Gruff voice, like scraping rocks. Coming into view, you see that this man poses no threat. He's half dead, slumped and pale, clutching his side.

"Who are you? What's your business here?" The axe is a deterrent, now. Just for show. You hold it above him, but nearly drop it when you see his face. It's sliced right through the middle, from his forehead to his jaw. "Oh, gods-"

"Mind yourself with that," his eyes flit to the axe. "Or put me out of my misery now."

Your shoulders dip down, lowering your weapon. Guilt crawls into your belly and settles there when you notice that yes- his feet are armored, but the rest of him is dressed in miners attire. White, coal-dusted shirt. Workman's pants, tucked into woolen calf wraps. God, he must be freezing. Maybe that's saved his life, staunched the bloodflow. It's tacky on him, not shining wet like you expected.

"What's happened to you?" You cringe at the sound of your voice. It's gone from fierce defensiveness to cloying concern, staring only at the blood staining his skin.

He breathes hard, staring at you a moment. It's hard to tell what he's thinking, what he's feeling. Outside of obvious pain. Leaves around you shiver in the breeze, a light snow beginning to fall when he finally speaks.

"Bandits," he grunts. "An ambush." Every word is a fight, a wheeze. Empathy drives away caution and you drop your weapon in favour of kneeling beside him.

"Come on, then. Let me help you," lifting him is a monumental task, even with him helping. He's as big as horse, thick as one too. Legs like tree trucks that hold him up just barely, feet sliding weakly on the uneven ground.

Looking back, Honey-nut watches you bring him through the doorway with a judgmental twinkle in her eye. Maybe it's time for goatherd pie.

///

Your bed is too small. His feet hang off comically, and the wood creaks under his weight. It'll have to do. Your mother would have beaten you black and blue for this - for inviting a stranger in, for settling him in your bed without so much as a what’s your name? But you know how to stitch and turning away someone in as bad a shape as he is would weigh on your conscience.

You light the sconces along the wall, and then a lantern to keep by his bedside. Warm, orange light fills the cottage, flickering every so often, inspiring calm.

"I'm no healer," you warn him. "Nor an alchemist." It’s not necessarily a lie. You had done a brief stint as a volunteer for the temple of Kynareth, lending your hands and your time to help nurse wounded soldiers. There had been supervision then, though. Guidance.

"I’m shit out of luck for choices, sweetheart,” his facial wound leaks a little when he speaks, blood running down the side of his face in thin rivulets. The wound at his side, however, is what worries you the most.

“Let me,” you murmur. Your fingers find the edge of his shirt, pulling them out of his pants, and up, up, gently. Looking him in the eye, watching his pain win over his weariness.

Another gash, swaddled in cloth wrapped sloppily around his middle. Without moving him you have to cut them off, slicing off his shirt at the same time. This one bleeds sluggishly, skin shredded, like he’d been dragged over coarse rock.

He words slur, energy leaving him. Mumbles under his breath things you can’t make out, and don’t try to. You’re busy rinsing, cleaning, and patting his ribs dry. Tensing every so often, he breathes hard through his nose to offset the pain. Mumbles some more, hands making fists.

It’s bad, but he’ll live. Exhaustion might trump over all, anyhow, what with how his eyelids have begun closing. Through the slit of them his eyes are pale, like sunlight through deep blue ice. Blonde lashes, stark against the dirt and coal smearing his skin.

You work in silence, letting him sleep through this one so he’ll hopefully be unconscious for the work you have yet to do on his face.

“Who did this?” You whisper to no one. You’re a breeze in the night, alone, hunched over this man and wiping his face with a cloth.

Clear of blood and grime, you gather a sewing needle and dip it into the lantern flame. Stitching is easy, but on his face? You falter a moment, worried, until you think of how proud men often are of their scars. Boasting battles won and creatures slain.

It’s that thought that pushes you through to the end, weaving the needle through until he's sewn and clean of blood.

///

Sweat and iron. The smell of it, sharp and salty, sea foam and earth, is the first thing you're aware of.

Then, the light of morning. Pale, almost white, invading through the windows in rays. A chill. Your eyes open with a not insignificant amount of effort, back twinging in different places as you become aware of the world again.

"Awake?" You startle, jerking up. It's the man from the night before, laying as he was, a little curled against the pain and big as an ox. "W's startin' t'think you'd sleep all day."

"It's morning, is it not?" You're not used to talking this early - or at all. "How's the- how are you feeling?"

He grunts, shuffling. His wrapped side has some blood peeking through, little spots of leakage, not enough to lose your head over. His face has swelled some overnight though, and you're awake enough now to hear the muffled quality to his voice. Part of the cut pulls his upper lip tightly. You wince.

"Just wait. I have something for the," you pause, crossing your space on stiff legs to find the bookshelf. Clay pots, glass bottles, books. Ah, here it is. "For the pain." It's some elixir. Purchased the last time you'd made the trek to Markarth from Muiri, the alchemists apprentice. It brings forth a distant memory of pain, of twisting your ankle running after Honey-nut.

Your ankle hadn't quite healed right, but this was good for when winter came and stiffness made the pain worse again.

He eyes you wearily as you approach. Suspiciously. As if you haven't been helping him out of the kindness of your heart…

"This will help," a promise.

"Don't need'it." He slurs, then cringes as it pulls his lip again.

"You'll recover faster if you're in less pain."

In the end he acquiesces, if not just to take the edge of the purpling that's beginning to show on the edges of his bandage. Broken ribs, maybe?

///

Chores need to be done whether or not there's an obstinate patient in your bed. Honey-nut needs to be milked, and she fights you every step of the way. You discover her pen open from last night and sigh with relief that she's still there.

The chickens have laid eggs for you, and you collect them diligently in your apron. Then, the garden. And finally a sweep of your traps in the woods.

Just one rabbit, but it's enough. You hope the man likes stew, and that his swelling goes down enough for him to tell you his name.

///

He tells you his name is Ghost. Strange, but you've heard stranger. Maybe he's a follower of Namira, you wonder not without an inkling of apprehension. Ghost is quiet, even as he heals. After you'd made yourself a straw bed on the other side of the cabin, you'd wake to him sitting up and stretching. Testing himself. Always silent.

The exhaustion was the worst of it. One nearly empty bottle of elixir later, the swelling on his face has gone down significantly. His ribs sore but on the mend. It was sleep that he needed, and lots of it.

Days passed like this. Switching bandages, wiping and cleaning, cooking enough stew for two. Nearly a week until he was up and about insisting to help around the cottage.

"No need," you tried to gently push him back into the warmth of the open door. He was too big, and having none of it. "You'll be better in no time."

He was just so tall. Were he to stand still at your doorway, half his face would be covered by the top of it. Despite his condition, you could tell that your initial comparison to a horse was completely on the nose. Stocky as a boar, arms thick as mammoth tusks. Hairy like blonde wheat shining in the sun. You'd noticed as much, watching him rest, watching his eyelashes flutter on his cheeks as he dreamt.

///

Ghost works like you're paying him in gold. He sweats, arms swinging down over and over again above the chopping block. There's enough wood to last three winters now - maybe four. Every job he takes is finished to excess. Your roof has never looked better, re-thatched in rotting places and swept clear of mildew. The old wood fence in your garden? Replaced.

Honey-nut finds her new favourite person when he dismantles what he calls shoddy work, and rebuilds her a shelter twice as big. The chickens are still weary, but enjoy receiving the kitchen scraps he tosses.

"There's really no need for all this," you insist again, because he's come back this afternoon with an elk on his back.

"Didn't need to fix me up, either, did'ya?"

You break it down together. Ghost does the harder part, while you take cuts of meat to dry for jerky. The rest will go into a venison casserole, with juniper berries.

"Hey- Ghost?" You call. He's skinning the rest of it for furs. "I'm off to gather some berries for dinner."

A nod, and you're off.

Your basket is old, woven, carried once by your mother and now you. Silly, but special all the same. It's stained with many years of berry collecting, many years of winter nights spent tucking into fruity crostatas or summers full of juniper mead.

The hills are rife with the low, rough trees. They grow like weeds here in the Reach, mountain pocked with patches of light green and little blue berries. Once, as a child, you'd made the mistake of eating one straight off the branch. Bitter as burnt coffee, it was lesson you'd learned through tears of laughter with your mother. A happy memory.

Does Ghost have a family? You wonder again about him, about why a man like that is wasting his time mining. He could've climbed the ranks as an imperial and been a General or - divines forbid - a stormcloak. You prayed he wasn't so craven as to follow Ulfric and his band of Nord supremacists.

It's this distraction that leads you right into the waiting jaws of a sabre cat. Quick and silent, it reminds you of your patient for an absurd moment before you're tripping backwards, basket full of berries scattered and forgotten. Your hip makes contact with the ground hard, pain lancing through your joint like a spear.

Fuck, how could you be so stupid? This was a mountain, leagues away from the nearest town. Sabres, bears, wolves. You'd always, always used awareness as a first precaution. Sight, sounds, keeping your ears tuned to the slightest crack in a twig. If not, there was the bow and arrow stowed away under your bed.

Now, you were caught unawares. Muscles under it's fur rippled, a low growl in it's barrel chest, creeping toward you. Adrenaline burned through you like a fever, hot and electric all at once, freezing you in place by the weight of your heart in your stomach.

Stendarr's mercy, dying from an animal attack after living years on the craggy peaks of the mountains, avoiding ambushes and robberies. Living on goats cheese and chicken eggs, nothing yet achieved. What a waste. Miserable, hopeless tears prick at your eyes. Your breath leaves you in quick, desperate puffs. Running wasn't an option - it would only encourage the sabre. Sovngarde, here you come-

"Aaarghgh aaaaa!" A roar. Loud, ringing in your ears, as fierce as a cave bear. It's Ghost, jumping through the brush towards you with his arms above his head. "Bugger off!" He's screaming loud, voice cracking a little, the stitches at his lip tearing just enough for droplets of blood to fall.

"I'll put you down!" It's nonsense, but it's loud, and he's massive. Taller than the sabre even if it stood on two legs. When he reaches you, he steps in front of you. Shields you.

The face-off is likely less than a few minutes, but it feels like time moves as slow as honey. Ghost faces of the sabre, screaming like a madman, beating his chest and waving his arms. It creeps backward, hissing and fighting, but is cowed by his stance and size.

When it's disappeared through the maze of juniper trees, he turns to you. Extends a palm rough like bark.

"How long have you lived here, again?" His voice grates as usual, made worse by his shouting.

Your face heats in embarrassment. "A few years. I'm not usually so distracted," you dust your dress, patting yourself. Twigs and dirt fall from the wool. "I swear. I got lost picking berries."

He snorts, like you're stupid. You feel stupid.

The basket is half empty when you call it quits, tired from fear. Ghost is hunched beside you, holding his ribs again, rubbing his lip almost compulsively.

"Stop that, you'll get a thicker scar," you reach for his elbow.

"Don't care much about that, love," he shrugs your hand away.

Dinner is made in silence. It's a miracle you have the energy, but while you're physically drained your mind is running in circles. You watch with concern as he sits gingerly back on the bed. The pain in your hip pulses with sympathy, pulsing heat travelling down your leg and up your back.

"Need me to take a look at anything?" Besides his obvious discomfort, you'll have to fix his face back up. You'd prefer for him to be in a welcoming mood.

"I can handle it," Mr Stoic over here. "Did'ya take a fall?"

You drop dried frost mirriam into chopped, boiled potatoes. Then a pad of butter.

"Yes, but I'm alright," the cream sauce comes together, ladled over the venison. You're out of eidar cheese, but Honey-nuts goat cheese crumbled over everything is perfectly fine. Ghost eats like a furnace taking coal, anyhow.

"Let me see," he's up close. Again, you've been taken unawares. A sharp inhale like a gasp, heart beat picking up, breathing in the smell of him. It's gone from bloody to pine, to earth, to fresh wood. His hands find your hip and you hiss, trying to jerk away. In doing so you press your side into his chest, curled close, warm not just from the fire. "It's alright, sweet girl." He murmurs into the top of your head.

This tenderness is new. His fingers are as gentle as you've seen them in the last few weeks, pulling up the thick skirts of your dress and assessing the tender skin. It's a little hot to the touch, painful. The rough pad of his thumb brushes against you softly, making you whine.

His lips brush your hair, not quite kissing you, but affectionate nonetheless. You're close enough to see his throat bob when he swallows.

"Just a bump, huh, sweet girl?" He takes over, mashing the potatoes, setting out plates at your little wooden table, guiding you by your lower back.

You eat in relative silence, thighs brushing, a tension bubbling to the surface like stew on the fire. He spares you a few glances between bites, still wincing whenever he has to bend down.

"I'll take a look at that again before bed," you speak through a mouthful of creamy venison.

Sure enough, he's reopened some of his stitches. Not worst case scenario, but you spend a few minutes hunched over and bandaging him up again. He stares at you intently, eyes so clear and focused you wish he wouldn't. It makes your hand shake.

Moving to get up and back to your straw bed, his arm shoots out as quick as an arrow and takes your wrist in his hand. His stare is the same, squinting at you like he's waiting for you to confess something. Like he's waiting for you to give in.

"You're not sleeping on the floor," he says, sure, chest puffed. "Not with your hip. Come on now, come lay down." Gently, he tugs you down. Protests make it to the tip of your tongue and nowhere else, not with the promise of a mattress on your sore muscles and screaming hip.

It's too small though, much too small. Already he was hanging off, shoulders taking up the entire width. You curl forward, on your good side, facing away from him and into the dark. The cabin is still warm from cooking dinner.

His breath puffs on the back of your neck, hand finding your arm and stroking up and down. Soothing you. He curls around you, following the natural bend of your body.

"Simon," he whispers.

Your brow almost touches your hairline. "That's not my name."

"No," his reply is half spoken, half physical. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, bicep under you, cradling you, his big bear paw hugging your shoulder. A stray pinky ventures dangerously close to your nipple, fingers spread. "It's mine."

The world widens. "Yours?" You breathe in, out. It's trust, is what it is. He's giving you a piece of himself, this stranger, for you to hold. "Simon," you taste it in your mouth. "Simon."

He laughs against your hair. "Was watching you," he confesses. "After we got- after the ambush. Walked for days, till I found you."

"How long did you watch?" You're curious, if not a little suspicious. "You weren't casing it, were you?"

"No, nothing like that. Couldn't keep walking," he sighs loud like a dog. "Hadn't eaten, hadn't drank. Needed to know if you were somewhere I could stay."

"That's why Honey-nut was losing her mind," the realization is half funny, half scary. By the eight, you really hadn't noticed someone living so close-by for so long?

"Honey-nut?"

"You've met her, Simon. She's the goat."

"Ah," he snorts. "I've been calling her Molag-Bal, for how she's got us in the palm of her hand."

"Simon!" You shriek with laughter, shaking until he squeezes you from behind. So close his heartbeat taps against your back.

///

A week goes by, and each night is the same. You wake together, sleep together, eat together. Simon regains his strength and his wounds turn into scars. His face is deeply marked, but you've never known him another way. Truthfully, it adds to his handsomeness. There's a ruggedness there that one can only develop living in the rough.

The air gets colder, frigid in the mornings and nights. Light snows have begun falling, and Honey-nut begins her bleating until you put up the winter wall of her shelter, boxing her in. The chickens slowly cease laying eggs, bundling together, clucking at Simon when he checks for the seasons last bounty.

The time to make a trek to Markarth is creeping. You need dried goods, grain, seeds for spring, dried meats, elixirs - everything. It'll be your last trip before you're stuck in the freezing mountains with nobody but Honey-nut to talk to.

Books are your salvation during the cold months.

"I have to get supplies soon," you break the news to Simon early in the morning, when the light just barely creeps over the craggy peaks of the mountains. "In Markarth."

There. It's over with - telling him. You know you're being a coward by not asking directly, but you need to know. What is he going to do now that he's healed? Spend a few more months with you? You're still mostly strangers, practicing domesticity together, but strangers nonetheless.

"Can't go to Markarth," he says.

"Why's that?"

Simon looks at you then, eyes hard and tender at the same time. He grimaces a little, scar twisting wit his expression.

"Used to work there," A pause. "Used to… mine there."

"What?" Cidhna mine is for prisoners. You take a small step back, shaking your head. "What?" You repeat. Cidhna mine? Is that how- oh. His injuries, his waiting to see who you were before approaching. By the gods, you've been tricked!

"You tricked me-" you start, upset. Was he a killer, a robber? Images dredged from the recesses of your mind float to the surface. Men, fire, your mother cut down before you.

"No, no," he interrupts. He's shaking his head, not quite stepping forward but leaning toward you. Eyebrows drawn up, palms facing you in supplication. "Sweet girl, I," he looks around then, as if the words will appear written in smoke from the hearthfire. "Listen to me please," he pleads.

"Tell me what you did!" It's a near-shout, but you're upset. He's been cozying up to you while running from the law. Not that you're a total stickler for rules, but the men at Cidhna mine aren't there without reason.

The most secure prison in Skyrim.

"I will, I'll tell you. Just sit down please, sit with me." He pats a chair, sitting in the one beside it. Beseeching you. "Cm'ere, sweet girl. M'sorry."

///

You sit quietly while he tells you, choking a little on the rising tide of emotions. The biggest question is should you believe him? This story of his past, his father, a childhood spent learning to steal and bully to survive. Elixirs for a brother hooked on skooma, food for a mother grown sickly from her husbands abuse. Eventually getting rid of his father altogether, and wining up in Cidhna.

"If what you say is true," your voice wavers, throat tight with emotion. "Why not tell me?"

He shrugs his shoulders, looking up for a moment as if asking the divines for guidance.

"You never asked."

For a moment, you want to be indignant. You laid with him, cooked for him, wiped blood and sweat off his brow.

But he's right. You never asked, never thought to - just wondered, minded your business, content to help someone in need of it. The feeling of betrayal loosens in your chest, releasing it's vice grip on your heart, a calmer acceptance taking place.

The position it leaves you in is awkward, even if you're content to believe him. You've been too yielding since you met him. Accepted him into your home, accepted his story. Ambushed by bandits? A silly lie, now that you think of it. Vague, believable. Easier than explaining that guards had slashed him as he escaped imprisonment. That he couldn't go back because he was so recognizable.

You don't speak as you get ready. It's not an angry silence, but one brought by embarrassment. How stupid he must think you are, cozying up up to him like that.

The question of where he'll go burns still in your mind, in your gut. You're nervous, fingers shaking a little as you wrap long strips of warm wool on your calves, forearms, and between your fingers. Your dress is double-layered, boots sturdy.

It's a trip and half, lugging everything. You're on foot until you reach the nearest inn, and from there you rent a horse and cargo carriage. Easier from there, with Jazbay the white mare to pull you along.

"I know someone in Cidhna," Simon interrupts your thoughts. He's always tall, imposing, a little intimidating. Now he looks as sheepish as a man like him can look. "Could you…" He extends his hand, a letter clasped in it.

You grimace, but nod curtly.

"Thank you, honey," he breathes a sigh of relief. Honey. That ones new. It fills you with warmth.

"You're welcome to stay with me," you blurt. Impulsive, stupid. Brought on by the familiarity of his affection. "For the winter, I mean."

He's across the cabin in two steps. He presses his front to yours, hands cupping your cheeks, thumbs gently rubbing your cheekbones.

He kisses you, then, and everything slides into place. Your stomach tightens, hands coming up to grasp his shoulders, gasping into his mouth. It's wet, lips smacking noisily, the only sound in the near-frozen forest. Acceptance, sweet and buttery. This is a man whose never had a home.

"I can't stall any longer-" you try. He interrupts you with his mouth again, long kisses like it's reviving him, revitalizing him. "I gotta-"

"Shh, sweetheart," he hums lowly. Gods, you've never been this wet. It soaks into your cotton underwear, clit pulsing in time with your heart. "Let me take care of you, yeah?"

///

He's so solid, firm muscle and hard cock. It leaks between his legs, bobbing with his abdomen where he's kneeled on the floor, face in your cunt.

"Simon!" You're shouting, unabashed. Years have passed since anyone's touched you last, and you're sensitive as a maid, gripping his too-long hair almost meanly. Simon licks you like a starving man, slurping, letting you drip and then sucking it off your skin. His fingers find the entrance of your pussy, fitting himself in two at a time.

Once you've begun, you can't stop. He fucks you on the bed, letting it creak dangerously. Bends you over the table, cock dragging in and out of you deliciously. You shake and shiver in his arms, wrung out and insatiable all at once.

"Can I have you here, sweet girl?" He thumbs at your other hole, dipping in, kissing your inner thighs.

"Yes, gods yes, Simon," you drag his name out. Si-i-mon. It sounds good that way, breathy, not spoken but moaned and screamed. It's late evening, dark, colder now that you haven't lit the fire.

No need, when his cock is as hot as coals and slides between your arsecheeks like a divining rod. Your pussy is aching and hot, too-sensitive. You're belly down on the bed again, hands gripped in the sheets.

When you deliberately relax your muscles, he fits his fingers in your ass using come as lubricant. Spits down onto you, watches you start to rub yourself into the bedding desperately.

"None of that," he pants, pulling you up by your hips. A whine builds in your throat, which he shushes by pushing his other two fingers in your cunt. You yelp, moving toward him and away from him. He keeps you still, firmly holding your hips.

You come, tears beginning to leak into your sheets, when he presses his cock against the notch of your hole and pushes in.

A long, deep groan from the pit of his stomach starts and doesn't stop until he's sheathed. You're frozen, stuck in a gasp that doesn't end, filled to the brim.

Simon begins to rock, shallowly, stealing your breath and breathing it back into you with every thrust. It's then that you begin to make sound, crying out and fisting the sheets, rocking your hips with him. He reaches around, leaning down to kiss your shoulders and play with your clit at the same time.

"Not gonna last," he says into your skin. "Gonna come inside you again."

You're easy - so sensitive that if he breathed on you long enough you're sure you'd peak. His fingers twisting and pinching your clit is pure madness, and you tighten like a vice around him as you yowl your last orgasm of the night.

His hips snap into yours roughly, abandoning your clit for the flesh of your hips, pounding, dragging, grunting into you as he finds his own release.

Half-asleep, you fell him roll over onto his side and turn your head to face him. He's smiling lazily, stroking your skin, still sweating from exertion.

"I'll come with you tomorrow," he whispers.

"I thought you couldn't come to Markarth?" Confusion prickles at you, brows coming together. He finds the furrow with his thumb and smooths it away.

"I can't, honey. But I can come down and wait for you."

"You will?" Hope rises in you, in tandem with affection.

"Always," his voice is a soft murmur.

"Tomorrow, then."

"Tomorrow. Goodnight, sweet girl."

<3

[neckromantics]

I don't think enough of you are seeing the potential in letting Astarion drink from your wrist??

(Brief warning: this got a little more sensual than I'd intended? I think I am possessed.)

The way you could still sit as close as you want, plastered to his side even– one leg thrown over his lap while the other is outstretched behind him. It would take a little bit of maneuvering to get the angle just right, but once you do it, it quickly becomes one of your favorite ways to feed him.

You'd have a better view from this angle as well. Would be able to see the glint of bared fangs just before they sink deep into the tender skin of your wrist with a soft pop. To watch the shiver that rolls through him as the taste of you finally meets his prodding tongue– his throat working as he takes that first, careful swallow.

You trace up the curve of his spine as base instinct takes over. His body forms a shield as he hunches, pale digits digging into your outstretched arm as if you'd ever have the heart to take his meal away from him before he's anything less than sated. Happy.

Your fingers comb through the sweet little, silver curls at the nape of his neck, nails scrubbing at his scalp as a form of encouragement so gentle he practically purrs.

Gods, the noises he makes when he's enjoying himself. You can't help but squirm in anticipation when his breathing begins to pick up. Each quick inhale becomes choked off with a little moan of satisfaction– or a whine so high and strained, as if he's hurting in the best possible way. It's as if you taste so good that he doesn't know what to do with himself. His legs kick up a bit. The heels of his boots drag the ground before he settles back down. He jerks away and then towards you once more. Practically writhes in ecstasy. You have to turn your head away just to stare at something far off in the distance. A pathetic attempt to focus on anything else before you lose your mind.

Eventually, you feel your offered arm begin to grow colder. A slight tingle at the tips of your fingers slowly creeps its way up and prompts you to wiggle in an effort to lessen any discomfort. The movement pulls him out of his trance just a bit, and you can feel it.

The length of pause between each swallow starts to become longer. Every pull of your blood becomes a little more shallow, a little less desperate as he braces himself for the moment you say you've had enough.

Admittedly, you always wait a bit too long than is comfortable. It's really hard to ask him to stop when you can physically feel the satisfaction radiating off of him in waves, but you know you have to say something the second you feel that all too familiar floaty sensation begin to sneak up on you.

The moment your temple hits his shoulder, he's pulling away with a sharp gasp of unneeded air, a sad, little whimper escaping his open mouth before he has the chance to muffle it. It's only now that his eyes flutter open. A more vibrant crimson now that he's properly fed, all hazy and soft with a wonder that you'll never grow tired of seeing. He turns to meet your half-lidded gaze from where you're slouched against him.

It'd be so easy for him to slip, to give into the urge to clamp down and drink and consume until you've got nothing left to offer. Especially when you're hanging off of him this way, eyes filled with warm adoration and body so willing to let him take and take and take.

Oh, how he must be careful, now.

The vampire's eyes get a certain headiness that you know all too well, locked onto your own as he allows himself one last taste. You can only watch as he chases a rivulet of blood all the way down the length of your forearm, petal soft lips creating artful smears of crimson with each sloppy press, only to be cleaned away a moment later by the gentle swipe of his tongue.

Your thighs clench automatically around his waist in response, and if he notices, he thankfully doesn't tease you for it. Yet.

After so many feedings, he's really got the hang of biting you in a way that doesn't do any lasting damage. So, it isn't very long before the marks his teeth have left behind no longer weep openly. The familiar, dull throbbing that resonates from the twin punctures is soothed by the soft press of his mouth. Then, the cheeky bastard makes it worse by giving a harsh, cheek-hollowing suck.

It's your turn to whimper.

He pulls away with such a smug smirk. It'd have your eyes rolling if you had any sort of brain function left.

His fingers are now warm as they knead against the numb skin of your drained arm, wiggling it about for you, and bending it the elbow a few times in an effort to get the blood flowing. It's a small act of kindness that you find ever so endearing, and you thank him with a tiny smooch to the very corner of his jaw.

He thanks you right back for the nice meal, with a loving stroke of his knuckles against the side of your face. Gives you a kiss so eager that you're left in shock.

You can taste the copper you've left on his tongue as it swirls against your own, and can't stop yourself from deepening the kiss a moment later. You swallow down his responding groan like he swallowed down all those mouthfuls of your blood. Eager. Just a little desperate. Happy.

Anyway, what was the point of this post again?

[pomefioredove]

hey so can I possibly have a scenario where Azul reveals his octopus form to his s/o and s/o is surprised, but doesn’t mind it. When he keeps being unsure and hides under water, s/o just dives into the water right next to him and kisses him under water? They can’t breathe under water unlike Azul being human.

this is so sweet!! I hope you don't mind, I did a fic instead of headcanons cause it felt right to me

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ "I'd owe you"

summary: in the context of a first kiss type of post: short fic characters: azul additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, established relationship

It's not that Azul is nervous.

Of course not. He's long gotten over the "crush" phase of your relationship. No more butterflies or blushes when he sees you, and for the better.

You're... a part of his life now.

He's not a fool, though.

He knows that each phase of the relationship comes with a different test to pass. And he has passed; the butterflies, the blushing and stammering, the confession, the first date, all with flying colors and his usual bravado.

Now, a month in, he knows the next is imminent.

He is NOT nervous!

He wants to... to be prepared, that's all. But he can't put it off forever.

"Is this strange for you?" he asks, neck-deep in the water.

You, beautiful, effervescent in the moonlight, are sitting on the dock, kicking your legs back and forth. It's high tide, and dark. "No,"

Somehow, in his mind, he thought this would be fine.

"Are you certain? We could go back to school, if you'd like," he says, hopeful you'll change your mind.

"I'm sure," Damn it.

"You haven't let me see you yet, anyway."

Damn it, damn it. Was being in the water in his natural form not enough?

Azul curses himself again. He did agree to this, foolish as it was.

Hesitantly, he lifts one, just one tentacle out of the water. He's trying very hard to keep calm, but he feels like he's being crushed.

You don't react. At all. No teasing, sure, but no reassurance, no smiling, not even that look of awe you so often have. He suddenly feels much colder than the water, and, without thinking, goes to hide.

Again.

The last thing he sees are your eyes, widened in surprise, and then he's underwater.

Azul knows he'll have to come out eventually. He can't just leave you alone on the dock. And he has an exam first thing in the morning, anyway.

But for now, he'd like to wallow. And so he will.

Of course, he should have known better than to think he'd get away with that. In seconds, the surface tension of the water breaks, his calm interrupted by you, you, of course you, suddenly with him.

Azul wants to say something, he wants to hide, but before he can even move, your hands are on his cold cheeks. And then, as if it were the easiest thing in the world, you're kissing him.

The world stops.

For the first time in a long time, he doesn't know what to do.

So, he lets you lead. It's... sort of nice. In a way. Then it sort of feels like you're holding your breath, which is a little- oh, right.

He comes back to his senses, grabs your shoulders, and swims you to the surface.

"Look at you," he sighs. "You're shivering. We need to get you back to school before you catch something."

You say nothing. You're smiling.

Azul sighs again. It's like you hadn't heard a word he said. "Too late for that, then. What are you staring at?"

"You're beautiful,"

His hearts stop. He doesn't respond; if he tries, he knows he'll just make a fool of himself.

Of course. After he was so confident he'd left this awkward phase behind, you manage to give him butterflies all over again.

Finally, he clears his throat. "...Thank you,"

"...But don't think that'll excuse you from drying off and getting warm. I won't have you sick on my behalf. I'd owe you."

Your smile warms with something he recognizes, but can't think of now.

"I think you already do,"

[nickfowlerrr]

please

GIF by virgo-opinions

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: bit of angst, bit of fluff. sweet ending per usual.

words: 1179

notes: "iM gOnnA WrItE a fiVe SenTenCE dRaBblE". i mean. we all should have seen this coming. thank you in advance for reading, i hope you enjoy this! as always, comments and reblogs are more than welcome and so appreciated. let me know what you think!

“Your bed is so much comfier than mine, can I sleep here tonight?”

It’s quiet for a long moment as you make yourself even cozier in Bucky’s bed, nuzzling into the pillow that smells just like him. It is comfier here. And you feel safe as sleep starts to nip at you. It's late, the lights are already out from when Bucky started the movie still playing on the screen, and you know you are both tired - that's why you're already in lounging clothes, having decided to stay in at his place tonight instead of going out to dinner like you'd originally planned. It'd been a long week, as if the mission hadn't been rough enough, the paperwork that's followed has been hell to get through.

All you wanted was a nice night with your boyfriend, and now that you're this comfortable and content, the last thing you want is to move, the leave and have this peace be over as you walk back over to your place. Your bed is a lot colder, and in truth what makes his so comfy is simply his presence.

Even when he's quiet, it's...

Wait, he's still quiet.

You turn your head to look at him as he sits at the foot of his bed. He looks anxious and you suddenly feel your stomach twist. What were you thinking?

You've talking about this before, the night after you first slept together. You'd fallen asleep in his arms and woke up feeling incredible, only to have your heart drop to your stomach when you realized you were alone and Bucky was nowhere to be found... Until you found him on your couch, dark circles under his eyes from no sleep and an apology falling from his lips the second he saw you, sitting up to explain. Nightmares, terrors, he didn't want to get into but wanted to explain why he'd left you alone. He didn't want to risk waking you up to that. You understood, and you'd broached the subject of staying the night a few times since then just to see where he was at, but never pushed. You trusted he'd let you know when he felt ready for it.

But now look at you, pushing without even thinking.

You sit up, a little too suddenly, and Bucky’s head whips to you. The anxiety in his eyes shifts to fear as he meets your embarrassed gaze.

You open your mouth to take it back, to apologize, but he beats you to speaking.

“No, no, no,” he rushes, unthinkingly urging you back down on the mattress as he leans over you; your eyes widen and you let him touch you. It’s a rushed movement, but gentle all the same as he eases you to lay back.

His face is inches away from yours and for a second you forget everything but the gleaming blue of his eyes and the soft plumpness of his lips.

“Stay,” he breathes, “I want you to stay.”

You swallow thickly, finding your throat dry. “Are you sure? I didn’t mean to-“

“I’m sure. I've wanted to ask you for a while, I just… I’m not the most peaceful sleeper,” he says shamefully. "I really don't want to scare you away."

It physically hurts to hear his unease. You want so badly to take his worry away, to show him he has nothing to be scared or ashamed of.

“Nothing you do could ever scare me away."

You can tell just by looking at him that he doesn't believe it, and you don't know how to make him.

You reach a hand to move the strand of hair that's fallen from behind his ear back out of his face before you hold his cheek lightly. You lean up as he leans down and brush your lips against his before you really kiss him, carefully - soft and slow.

"You're always there for me," you murmur, "I wanna be here for you, too." You card your hand though his hair as he lets his forehead fall against yours, his eyes closed in contentment at the feeling before he sighs and sits back.

You watch him for a moment, you can still sense his trepidation...

"You can say no, Bucky," you tell him gently.

He looks at you again, his brows furrowed ever so slighty and a small pout on his lips. "I don't wanna say no. I want you to stay and I want... I want to be normal for you."

Your eyes burn and your throat gets tight as you watch his bright blue eyes blink furiously as he looks away from you again. You sit up all the way and reach for him, turning his head so he's looking you in your eyes.

"Don't do that," you say, doing your best to keep your voice from wavering. "There is no such thing as normal, Bucky. And even if there was, I wouldn't want it. I mean who cares about normal anyway?"

He looks pained as he holds your hand in hand and it's quiet again for a beat.

"I know you don't wanna say no, but you won't be hurting me if you need to."

He doesn't look up from your hand in his, only squeezes it in response.

You smile softly, taking the gesture as his admission that he isn't ready yet, and move to get up off the bed again, only to be stopped by Bucky once more.

"You wanna stay?"

"Only if you want me to," you murmur.

He looks at you, really looks, like he's searching for some sign, something in your eyes that'll give away that you want an escape, that you really want to go. He finds nothing, because it's the last thing you'd ever want.

"Will you lay down with me?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, you almost couldn't hear him over the movie still playing on his television in the background.

"Of course," you say simply as you once again allow him to lay you back down. He joins you this time, slowly laying himself down next to you. When you get comfortable again, he turns into you, and ever so slowly, moves to rest his head on your chest as he lays on his side, hugging himself to you.

It's delicate. One of those moments you know you'll look back on over and over, one you'll always treasure, seeing him feel safe enough with you to be this vulnerable, this soft.

The silence is anything but uncomfortable as you run the fingers of one hand through his hair, massaging away his tension as he relaxes further into you.

"Can I tell you something?" his voice sounds deeper already as he speaks.

"Anything."

"Lately, the only time I can ever manage to fall asleep, is when I picture you here with me." His breathing is getting deeper as he nuzzles into you and you hold him tighter as you push down your rising wave of emotions at his confession.

"I want you to stay..." he murmurs. "Please stay."

[sugucidal]

# HOW TO SEDUCE YOUR NEIGHBOR 101 !!

CHAPTER i. [3k words]

୨୧‬┊pairing: toji fushiguro x fem! reader

୨୧‬┊synopsis: with winter break having rolled around the corner, you’ve decided to spend it with your family back at home. it felt nice being back after 2 years away at university. you just wish your mom had told you that a certain guest was visiting. one that you hadn’t expected to ever have to face again.

୨୧‬┊warnings: fluff! + age gap (reader is 19 and toji is 34) + taboo content (cause what’re u doin tryna get tojis middle aged ass in ur bed smh) + slice of life kind of (??) + suggestiveness + humor + reader is in her winter bimbo era + toji is…toji. + no smut yet sorryy + slight slowburn + everything is legal! no ones going to jail!

୨୧‬┊a/n: first chapter woohooo !!! second chapter will finally be coming out on [redacted] <3

‪MAIN POST | part i. > part ii. > part iii.

Tugging at the sleeves of your jacket further down your hands, you let out an exhale, nerves set ablaze. The typical cool spring air was colder than usual this particular night out, sun having already set and moon shining up into the dark, starry sky.

Fiddling with the hem of your mini skirt, you gazed up, doe eyes glinting heatedly up at the man you've harbored adoration towards.

You were finally gonna confess.

"I want you."

The simple words that held so much weight filled the space between you both.

A sigh in response. Oh no. You already knew what was coming, but you hoped to any deity or god from above that it wouldn't turn out this way.

"Kid, you're way too young for me." The smoke blowing past his lips wafted through the stiff air, his scar pulling at the corner of his mouth in dismay. "If you were older maybe I'd consider it. Wouldn't bet on it though, since you're such a pain in the ass to deal with."

You let his words hang momentarily, trying to come up with a sufficient rebuttal. You knew he was only playing when he said you were a pain to deal with but it still stung your heart to hear it coming from him. But you weren't gonna give up that easily. You've had a crush on this man ever since he moved into the neighborhood years ago!

What started out as innocent puppy love slowly built its way into this desire, stemmed deep at the heart the older you got. You'd watch as he invited women into his home late into the hours of the night, clinging onto him like a leech in a body of lakewater. God, how you wish it was you he'd have brought into his home on those late nights. Lustfully gazing down at you with promises of this being the best you'll ever have, one you'd be thinking back on until the day you die.

He knew exactly just how much you craved for his touch. It wasn't hard to see that he felt the same, you could see it in the way he'd glance in your direction whenever you purposely wore something revealing, hoping to catch his eye. He told you that you shouldn't wear things like that at your age around men, that they were dangerous, intentions impure. As if he wasn't one of those men he was warning you about. But despite it all, he always looked the other way. Kept a boundary of barbed wire up, no way of climbing through. Frankly, it was annoying.

You hate when people play hard to get.

"So...you mean once I'm 18, you'll take up my offer?" If he couldn't get with you because you were 'too young' then surely he'd concede if you were legally an adult...right?

"Not exactly what I said, but sure," Taking one last final drag of his cigar, he stomped it out onto the pavement, sharp eyes gazing at you discerningly one last time before turning the other way.

"Whatever gets you off my case."

That was the last time you spoke with Toji and almost 2 years have gone by since then. The rejection after the confession hurt no doubt, but the avoidance of Toji towards you afterwards, hurt like salt to a fresh wound.

You rarely saw him after that, suddenly out for weeks to months at a time for work. Sometimes he'd come by when he was free and have idle chats with your parents any time they saw him down the neighborhood. Not bothering to spare a polite greeting or glance in your direction whenever you were present. What used to be a strong bond between family friend and their doting daughter, having met him at an early age, quickly turned awkward and tense, distance overtaking whatever there once was.

You regret talking to him that night every single day.

Unfortunately, you couldn't bring back the past and fix your fuck up. On the other hand, the days of being immature and bratty were long gone. Having been replaced by someone more mature and less dense.

Living off pre-packaged noodles and staying up till 6 am finishing up assignments for your university classes due the next hour, does that to a person you suppose.

Now with winter break finally having rolled around the corner, you were able to get that good night's sleep your exhausted ass had been craving for. And the home cooked meals your mother had waiting for you was certainly appreciated as well.

Lugging your bags up the front steps to your parents' quaint home, you took a quick look at the classic 'welcome home' mat under your feet that you were sure still hid a key underneath. Lifting the corner of the mat your suspicions were confirmed.

You'd think they'd realize how unsafe this could be one of these days.

Before you could place the key through the silver lock, you were instead met with the distinct sound of hard, oak wood doors being unlocked and swung open.

"Baby, you're finally home! Get in quickly, come on now." Your mother hastily ushered you in, calling over your father to help carry your bags further inside the warmth of your home. The key you held was quickly dropped on the small table near the entrance, and the door kicked shut. The signature smell of a vanilla sugar cookie candle being burnt filled your nostrils, the rest wafting through the air. Anyone would think your family baked with the way they always seem to choose that particular scent regardless of season or weather. Further glancing around, you watched your family's pet cat prance towards you, its furry face wide eyed and complaining to be held. You swear he acted like a dog sometimes.

Guess some things never change.

You just hoped that would've stayed true for a certain someone.

Before you had any more time to dwell on it, you were taken out of your thoughts by the mention of the name you had barely begun to ponder over.

'Speak of the devil', you sighed.

Walking over to the living area, you followed your father picking up your cat on the way, butting in, "Hm? what was that?"

"You remember Toji right?" Nodding your head, your father continued. "We invited him over for dinner tonight."

You paused in your step. "What? Why?" The confusion in your voice was surely noticed. You couldn't exactly say you were unhappy, hell you felt giddy at just the mention of his name, but you were still hung up on the past and weren't ready to face the man that blew off your poor naive, little heart. If you saw his handsome face in person again that's been embarrassingly haunting your dazed mind whenever you're busy writhing and whining atop your soft, cozy sheets—at that dinner table, you might just take the 2 hour car ride back to campus dorms.

You were just a pussy like that. One that couldn't face the culprit of those lingering feelings that had never ceased to falter throughout the years, dead in the eye.

The two quietly glanced at each other at your sudden change in demeanor, eyebrows raised. Before he could continue your mom piped up first, "What do you mean by 'why'? You haven't seen each other in so long. He misses you and I'm sure you two would like to catch up."

"Misses you" You swear your heart might've actually stopped beating. In what world would Toji Fushiguro have missed their friends young daughter after being told straight to their face that they wanted him to fuck her.

"He..misses me?" It sounded a little unbelievable saying it outloud.

"Mhm, after you left for University he asked about you a couple times, wondering when you'd be back to visit," Turning around to walk into the kitchen to get started on dinner, she smiled over her shoulder at you once more, "You must've really left an impression on him."

Nervously laughing you settled your cat down, watching him stride over to sip some water from his bowl.

"Yeah..quite some impression alright."

- - - - - - - - - - ୨♡୧ - - - - - - - - - -

Okay. Okay it's fine. Yeah you haven't seen him in years but it's fine! He's just coming over for dinner. You'll greet him with a friendly smile, he'll ask how you've been- or shit, maybe he won't. Maybe he'll just ignore you again like he's already done. Toji mentioning to your parents that he misses you was probably just a misunderstanding and he meant to say the weather has been misty- yeah. Totally plausible.

"What the hell am I doing.." Taking a once-over to look yourself in the mirror, you just finished applying the finishing touches to your makeup, wiping off any excess gloss at the corner of your lips with a q-tip for a sharp finish. Was the gloss necessary given the fact that it was going to be smudged off during dinner anyway?

The answer was yes. Yes It was.

Just because you were having a small dinner that was probably gonna be awkward as hell with a man you've been wanting- didn't want to see, shouldn't mean you couldn't at least look cute.

A sudden faint sound of muffled talking took you out your inner monologue. Putting away your array of makeup displayed on the varnished wood countertop of your vanity, you walked over to the door pressing an ear against it trying to discern what was being said.

'Hm sounds like there's someone else down there..' quietly poking a head out into the hallway you just barely made out a deep yet familiar voice before quickly being startled by your mother calling out your name.

"Hon, come down and greet Toji!"

Fuck. "C–Coming!" straightening up, you calmed your blazing nerves, mentally preparing yourself for the onslaught of awkward tension that your parents luckily knew nothing of. Bless their complete oblivion.

Walking out into the hallway and down the stairs your eyes immediately locked onto Tojis, gaze shyly looking away and focusing onto nothing in particular. You were better off staring at something near him than at him directly.

Approaching towards where they stood, you tried your best to look as confident as possible. You're a woman now. Not some doe. At least that's what you feel like telling yourself at this moment, as you pick at your nails. Standing straighter, you stood next to your parents, watching as they finished up their talk.

You haven't had a proper conversation with Toji since, well...that night. Not counting the usual greetings you had exchanged with him in the past when you saw each other after. If you could even call it that. If a glance of bare acknowledgement was considered a greeting, then sure. Yet here you were right in front of him, determined to set things right. You had to confront him, it was the only way you'd be able to heal the wound of the past and maybe, even let go.

But first, you'll have to actually talk to him.

Deciding to finally look up at Toji, you were able to make out his features more clearly. He hadn't changed much since you last saw him, still very much tall, and his ever so brooding presence never waned. His jaw was somehow even more defined than before, and he was still rocking the same haircut as he always did.

If it ain't broke, don't fix it I guess.

Overall, he looked good. Better. The best. As he most likely always will be in your eyes.

And you're so lost in your own thoughts that you don't even notice Toji looking down at you in the corner of his eye, trying to hold back a smirk that's beginning to creep up. Silly you, ogling him so openly in front of your own parents. Not like they bothered to ever notice though.

Hearing the three of them laugh about something pulled you away from your stupor, and your attention was immediately latched onto Toji who was the first to speak.

Hopefully he didn't notice you being a creep.

"It's been a while, huh? You still remember me?" You know he's only teasing by asking if you still "remembered" him. The old you would've sassed him up for asking something silly like that, but you don't know if its a good idea to get ahead of yourself and start pulling on his leg this early on.

So you opt for the safest response.

With a polite smile on your lips, you shrugged your shoulders, "Of course. It hasn't been that long."

Toji stared at you for a moment. Shit. Did he not like that answer..?

Then you felt something warm come into contact with the top of your head; it was Toji's hand. Toji was petting you. Or more like ruffling your hair—same difference.

"You barely changed."

You exhaled a breath you didn't even know you were holding. A moment longer in silence and you don't think you'd be able to hold back the urge to run back up those stairs, slam the door shut behind you, and scream into your pillow.

Why were you so nervous!? You're never nervous when it comes to Toji.

'What's up with me??''

Regardless, you felt yourself being left annoyed at his comment. Disappointed that he probably still saw you as some kid despite not certainly looking or being one at all for that matter.

Too bad you didn't realize he meant it in a different way.

Even if you tried to hide it, Toji could still make out the way you held your hands behind your back, most likely fidgeting with your nails. Seems you've changed, the thought amusing him. The old you he knew would've pounced on him by now, batting your lashes, staring up starry eyed thinking you were being discreet about it.

Nothing gets past him, especially not when you make it so obvious. One thing that hasn't changed though, are the clothes you seemed to purposely wear around him, and him only.

The moment he saw you walk down those stairs, he knew you had him wrapped around your finger all over again. The too short skirt and see-through slip on you adorned leaving almost nothing to the imagination, if not for the cream colored cardigan you wore hiding the slivers of skin, leaving him wanting more of what was underneath.

'What a damn tease..' But Tojis eyes averted by the time your parents noticed your descend towards them. He didn't exactly want them seeing him ogle their daughter so openly.

Before any one of you could say anything more, your mother cut the greetings short. "Great, now that we're all finished reuniting again, let's start eating before the food gets cold."

Walking a little ways behind you, Toji catched the way your hips swayed as you walked. Whether you were doing it intentionally or not, he couldn't say for sure.

But one thing he was sure about, is that you were going to give him one hell of a hard time.

- - - - - - - - - - ୨♡୧ - - - - - - - - - -

The rest of dinner went by quickly. Once you were all seated, your parents and Toji had no problem talking with each other. They were busy discussing something, but your mind was too occupied to actually listen in on what they were saying. Too busy playing around with the food on your plate as your mind ran aimlessly, and foot twitching anxiously.

The night could've been worse. Really, it could've. Sure you haven't made any progress yet, but you'll get there! Overall, nothing particular happened. Except for one thing.

Toji couldn't stop looking at you.

- - - - - - - - - - ୨♡୧ - - - - - - - - - -

Before you knew it, dinner had come to an end. Toji had already taken his leave and bid you all a 'thanks for the meal' and a goodbye. Finally. Now you can slip away to your room, wipe off your makeup, and lay awake in your bed as you regret everything you could've said and done tonight but didn't without anyone noticing–

"Where do you think you're going?" There stood your mom, looking at you expectantly. Were you missing something?

"To my room, why?"

"Didn't you hear at dinner?"

'Was I supposed to hear something at dinner?'

"No, hear what exactly?"

"Tomorrow, you're going out to buy some decorations for a party we're having."

A beat of silence. Your eyebrows were furrowed in confusion as you wondered why the hell you would be having a party.

"Mom… I appreciate that you want to host a welcome back party for me, but there's really no need to." It's sweet that they missed you this much, but you weren't one for parties that were centered around you.

She laughed. "No, no, not a party for you. I know you don't like that kinda stuff,"

Oh. Nevermind then.

"Our annual winter get together. We do it every year with the rest of the neighborhood and we're the ones hosting this time. Have all those cup noodles gotten to your head and you suddenly forgot?" She shook her head in disappointment.

Low blow, mom.

"I didn't forget! I just...didn't know you'd be the ones doing it this year."

"If you were actually paying attention at dinner then you'd have heard."

"Sorry. So, tomorrow you want me to go out and buy decor right? Cool, I'll go after lunch."

Thinking that was the end of that, you began to trudge your way towards the staircase. Already almost at the top when your mother called out to you once more.

"Oh! and Toji's accompanying you."

Yup, definitely going to scream into your pillow tonight.

© SUGUCIDAL 2023 — All rights reserved. Do not copy, modify, or redistribute my work without permission.

[yandere-sins]

I don't know if you write something like this, but what about reader being Hades lover instead of Persephone like it's supposed to be? I imagine reader is some normal human on our world learning about Greeks Gods but suddenly got isekai'd into the Mythology haha. Imagine the confusion and flabbergasted reader felt by all of this.

Reader try to find a way back to human world but ended up in the forest where all of this started. Trying to avoid Persephone fate of being Hades's lover that eating the underworld food, but of course, Hades wants the reader to eat the food. After all Hades got all the time and reader is starving.

I would love the tension, back and forth of Hades temptation and reader insistent. Thanks!

Okay but what if I take your idea, and I give it a tiny plot twist? Make it just a little bit more horrifying? Okay, okay hear me out, look...

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Being a human had never been so frustrating.

It was one thing to manage the daily challenges of adulthood, of living on your own and taking care of yourself. Things got tough, and they got fun again; sunrises made you smile, and losing a beloved restaurant to a global issue made your heart somber. For the longest time, you believed having a shitty day at work and then having to go home in the rain because you forgot your umbrella was the worst your life would ever get.

But you were wrong. Very wrong.

Because where there was no life, that's where things became messed up.

"One bite," he pleaded. With the pomegranate juices running down his spindly fingers, the red was almost disturbingly blood-like against the faded color of his skin. "Please. I know you are so hungry."

Pouting your lips, you shook your head, turning and marching onwards through the dark forest of lush yet colorless greenery. It was just a park, Hades had explained, but every time you thought you'd break through the thicket, it expanded further, endlessly like a maze of trees and bushes.

You two had kept up this dance of rejection and chase for a while now, days to be exact. And you were unsure if he knew, but you were hanging on to the last threads of sanity. You felt your knees buckle with resistance every time you rejected yet another offer of fresh food and sweet nectar, your stomach screaming in aghast horror as you kept denying freshly picked fruits and beautifully arranged plates that could sate your hunger. And your head had become so dizzy from the stress and anxiety that you began feeling as if your life was being drained right out of you to feed this place instead.  

The Underworld. Resting place of souls.

Occasionally, you had heard about occult stuff like fairy rings or portals to another world. You never thought that accidentally falling into a river would end with you being transported right into the realm of the afterlife! You had cursed at your feet for being so clumsy and easily losing their balance, but at this point, you had no strength left other than to be thankful they still carried you around. You weren't dead yet, but you didn't think you were very much alive either.

"I need to find a way out..." you mumbled to yourself, your mouth feeling dry and your head buzzing with incoherent thoughts. Only determination had gotten you up after passing out so many times. Only knowing you came here somehow, so you must have been able to get back somehow, kept you going. Things were tough, but you were tougher, right?

"There is none," the god of the Underworld mumbled, a tinge of regret breaking through his voice. "You've been here too long. There is no way back from here."

You breathed out, coming to a halt, as did his ghostly appearance behind you. It was colder in his proximity, yet he stayed close as if to comfort you. His body was cloaked in black swivels, yet his face was almost too handsome to look at directly. His hands were visibly gnarly like those of skeletons, yet you knew his touch was soft and his palms big and reliable, able to catch you before you hit your head on the floor from fainting. His hair fell in waves of ebony beauty, and his crown was so intricately woven into it that it made him look humble and whimsical rather than fearsome and ruthless like the stories made him out to be.

There was nothing about him to hate or make you truly distrustful of him. Yet, you still wished he would leave you, just like in the beginning, when he could only stay for a limited time to watch you struggle before returning to his duties. But his time by your side had gradually increased, and perhaps that was the feeling of dread you've been experiencing for a while now.

"Don't you have anywhere else to be?" you asked, too exhausted to sound snarky.

"I cannot leave you like this. It's not your time yet."

"Then let me go! Lead me out of here!"

In a spurt of a moment, you regained enough strength to spin around, yelling at him angrily. You regretted raising your voice as you looked into the flash of hurt crossing his features before the beautiful grimace turned serious again.

"I can't," he said firmly, holding out the pomegranate again. Its fragrance enticed your nose, saliva collecting in your mouth as it promised to be an especially juicy one. "There is nowhere I could lead you but back to the palace. But you wouldn't make the journey unless you eat and drink. You're just human, after all."

It must have been easy for a god to point out your biggest flaw of them all: you were just human.

"Can I go home if I go back to the palace?" you asked, eyeing the pomegranate with disdain even though your teeth demanded to sink into its flesh, chew apart the seeds, and satiate your hunger.

"No," Hades shook his head. "But you could find peace there. Stop the endless roaming of the gardens for an exit that doesn't exist at this point in time."

"You're lying," you concluded finally. "You want me to eat the pomegranate so you can claim my soul for the Underworld. You're telling me there is no exit, but there is, you just don't want me to find it."

Your accusations left a mark on Hades, the brilliance of his eyes dulling as he heaved a deep sigh, letting his head hang before shaking it slowly. "I'm not lying. I'd never lie to you. I have enough souls waiting for me to give them a place here. I don't need to kidnap humans that Thanatos doesn't have on his list. It was an accident. A fatal one at that, but your stubbornness made it irreversible."

"So it's my fault, eh?" you tried to argue, but there was no bite left in your voice. Raising your hand, you dug your finger into the soft flesh of the pomegranate, felt the fruit yielding to your touch without resistance. Hades closed in, eager for you to finally accept his offering.

"You know what they say about Persephone and the pomegranate. How you trapped her, how you forced her to stay here. Tales of you don't make you look so good."

Without looking up, you could only imagine the anger or frustration that must have played on Hades' expression, but he surprised you when he picked up your hand, raised it to his lips, and slipped your pomegranate-stained finger into his mouth. You watched in horrifying fascination as the god licked off the stain on your skin with relish, the brilliance returning to his eyes as you met his gaze, confident, unwavering.

"People have long made up stories about us, but my wife has never been unhappy with me. And my pomegranates are truly delicious, I only wish for you to taste it. I wouldn't lie to you about these things. I promise I will never lie to you. It's not my nature to begin with, and I'm trying to make things better for you, not harder."

You felt the tears well up in your eyes at the sincere words of such an otherworldly creature—one you only believed to be a story that people believed in religiously. You never thought the gods could be real, much less kind and compassionate. But when you popped the first pomegranate seed into your mouth, your whole body collapsing and Hades catching you with one arm, lifting you up to his height with ease, you realized he had been truthful.

The fruit tasted tart but was absolutely delectable. It had a different kind of sweetness than the ones you had eaten on earth, and tears streamed down your face as you scooped a handful of it, greedily stuffing it into your mouth with no regard for its juices. Hades didn't seem to mind either, holding you seated on one arm, with the fruit halves in his other, the pomegranate bigger than what you were used to, yet still small in his hands even when cut open.

You cried and ate, your body rejuvenating yet also releasing all the tension and fear you had clung to. Your vision was blurry with tears, your nose stuffed, and your head so pleased with the taste of pomegranate on your tongue that it didn't think of anything else. You didn't even register that Hades turned around, strutting back towards the dark, looming palace behind the forest that was the gardens stretching out before it. He was in no hurry, yet it took him barely the blink of an eye to return to where you had first woken up.

By the time he reached the palace doors, you were fast asleep with a belly full of pomegranate, and your thoughts turned into pleasant dreams. The shadows of his body were licking at you, caressing you gently and touching you much more comfortingly than his cold hands could. Even so, he never let go of you, content with you on his arm, resting against his shoulder as if he had taken any worries from you, just like he wished to.

"I see you have received my gift."

"My Queen? You are back early."

"I have not returned yet from my duties; I merely wanted to visit my husband and bring him a gift."

Stepping down a few steps to meet Hades on his way to the palace, Persephone smiled at him warmly, cupping his cheek, which he couldn't help but melt into. She ran her thumb across his cheekbone lovingly a few times before her hand slipped from him to your head, brushing back your hair gently and revealing your face to her.

"The gods above are stirring with excitement for their special humans. Apollo has just collected an extraordinary one for himself. I know you care so little for these trends, but knowing you wait down here for me, alone and so lost in your work, you don't see the seasons pass until I return—it breaks my heart. I thought it would cheer you up to have something so precious to pass the time. You can do as you please with them, treat them as you like. They are yours to own."

"You shouldn't have. They are human, Persephone. Being in the Underworld will cause them nothing but suffering."

"Well," she huffed, agitated by her husband's chiding. They have an eternity to get used to it, just like I did. They will be fine. You can teach them to like it and show them how beautiful this realm can be if they behave themselves. Besides, the pomegranate tree bloomed the moment they came here; it must have been a sign."

Passing by her husband on the way out, she winked at him, and he knew fully well that it had not been a coincidence. Neither that you fell into the Underworld years too early, nor that the tree sprouted fruits the second you arrived. Looking down at you, he watched you furrow your brows as Persephone's warm touch vanished, and you nuzzled your head further into his shadows, trying to find just a bit of the same comfort with him that she could give you.

You truly were lovely. So small, so impossibly perfect. Precious, she called you, but of course you were since his wife knew him well. The moment Hades laid eyes on you, he knew he couldn't bear letting you go and wait until you'd inevitably return to his side as the course of life took its sweet time to reunite you two. And thanks to Persephone, he never even had to lie to you to make you eat the pomegranate on your own and so wholly, he would never have to part ways with you again.

"It is a wonderful gift, thank you," Hades admitted. Persephone smiled, laughing heartily as she made her way back to the surface, passing through the park that stretched out in front of her with ease as it let her pass towards the exit. It was her garden, after all. But even as the two separated temporarily, Hades could hear her say, "I can't wait to get to know them when I return, too."

And he couldn't wait to introduce the now two most beloved parts of his existence, either.

[beardedjoel]

smother - part i: deliverance

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: starving. lost. desperate. you find a cabin in the woods, and to your dismay, it's occupied. a plan to have a quick bite of food with an intense, intriguing stranger turns into more than you'd bargained for when he makes you realize everything you've been missing out on. 8.6k words chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! noncon, nonconsensual touching, dubcon - reader eventually enthusiastically consents but the syndrome is stockholming so its dubcon, reader is a virgin, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is 55) manipulation/lying/gaslighting, slow burn and tension building chapter, joel is kind of a creepy menace ngl a/n: i'm so so very excited to share the first chapter of my new series! (if this flops after how much i got hyped for it i will be logging off forever) the themes in this story are dark so if the tags aren’t for you it’s understandable & just keep scrollin on by! this will end up being nasty and smutty, but only after a wee bit of buildup so don't fear. comments and reblogs are always beyond appreciated!

Save me. Please, anyone…

Another wave of desolate, crying desperation tears through you as you trudge along, tripping yet again - maybe over your own two feet, a root, the very ground you walk on, something. You’re much too hazy and burnt out to even care what you stumbled on as you just press on, press on, press on.

A wave of pain rolls through your stomach again as it burns cavernously empty. You move as a ghost, a shell of yourself now, using passing trees as support. Your hands touch the cold wood reluctantly, a painful little hiss through your teeth as your fingers practically cramp up from the cold. You’d lost your gloves somewhere along the way, days ago now, what feels like a lifetime. You need to stop and rest desperately now, your body close to giving out. Your heart hammers in fear, wondering if you’d even be able to get up again.

A cabin comes into view in the distance, tucked nicely in a clearing of trees. You think your eyes are deceiving you, that you’ve finally succumbed to the madness that comes with such hunger and loneliness, your brain conjuring up images to comfort you. You see smoke coming out of a chimney on the roof, and your heart equally swells and drops at the discovery - it’s not a shelter for you alone, no. Not a lucky discovery, somewhere to lay your head tonight that’s dry and warm without disturbance. Someone already lives here, has a home here, and they might not take too kindly to strangers. If there’s anything you’ve learned in the last few weeks of your own personal hell, it’s to tread carefully. Always.

You keep your footsteps light and quiet, trying to approach with some semblance of caution. Your empty stomach is pushing you along, begging for any scrap of food that might be inside, hopefully offered up to you by the kindness of a stranger. Berries and the occasional rabbit or lucky can of food found were not enough to live off of anymore - you could feel the way your body faded away by the day, losing any bit of strength you’d had in the first place.

You pause, hitching your breath and then barely daring to breathe at all when you get close enough to hear a sound - a low, throaty grunting followed by the crack of wood. Your eyes scan the area as you sneak closer and then land upon him. He’s broad and muscled, you can see that much from back here. Messy, dark hair that curls all around his head and down his neck. When his body turns enough that you see his face a little bit more, you notice he looks older and has dark, piercing eyes. They send a shudder through you, even from afar, only making you feel colder out in this frosty afternoon.

You wrap your coat a little tighter and decide to get closer, assess the situation, see if he seems friendly enough to give you something to eat and send you on your merry way. He swings an ax high up in the air and brings it down swiftly onto a large piece of wood, splitting it before tossing the logs into a pile already full of more firewood. You press your lips together, noticing how strong he is, betting there are well built up muscles underneath that flannel shirt of his. That makes him a threat, a big one, you quickly assess. 

You’re too distracted, not watching your step, when a large branch cracks underneath your boot. You wince and squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, holding perfectly still, your breath coming out in quick, staccato exhales.

“H-hey!” you hear a gruff voice, sounding out of breath. You peek your eyes open slowly to see the man looking in your direction and silently curse yourself. “C’mon out!” he yells, and you see him reach to his waist, hands grazing a shining revolver holstered there.

Your stomach pulls into tight knots and you stand frozen for a few moments. Your brain quickly assesses everything, weighing the options. Running away, with no possibility of eating a single thing is one option, but the likelihood this stranger will shoot you seems high no matter what, so you decide to take your chances.

You put your hands in front of you, palms out, and slowly emerge from behind the trees. You walk gingerly along the crisp, frosty grass, crunching under your feet every step of the way. Your anxious breaths come out in little puffs in front of you as the cold air enters and exits your lungs.

The man falters, his fist closing and then opening again, pulling away from the revolver on his hip a bit. He blinks hard, staring at you in this silent showdown. “W-well shit, you’re just a girl…” he finally says quietly to himself, his posture relaxing a little. You stand perfectly still, choked up now that you’re confronted with the idea of speaking to him, such a large, imposing wall of a man, and those eyes, god, those eyes.

“I’m not gonna hurt you if you don’t give me a reason to, now, girl.” His voice is the tiniest bit softer, and you pick up on his Southern drawl, an accent you’ve heard a few times before. “Do ya need help?” He wipes his forehead with the back of his arm, a gleam of sweat having built up from chopping wood and his large chest still heaving. He takes a step closer to you, and you don’t step back, but feel every muscle coil up tightly as your mind screams at you that this was a mistake, a huge fucking mistake. Your feet tingle, toes flexing and getting ready to run, but you can’t make yourself do it, to take that first step.

Instead, you nod. “I- y-yes…” you say quietly. You’ll never understand why you say it, other than the fact that you’re drawn in by him, by his chestnut hair flecked with gray, his patchy beard that he’s currently scratching. By his build that looks so… safe yet dangerous, but you get the feeling that no, he’d never hurt you. You envision those arms wrapping around you, holding you tightly, shielding you from the world and everything you’ve been through. You never thought much about relationships or boys before - just a few simple and innocent crushes, but it hadn’t been on your radar as such a shy kid and teenager. But this… this was what people talked about - attraction. It nearly stole your breath the closer you got to him, threatening to suck you into what felt like an endless void. 

“Alright,” the man replies, trying to match your quieter demeanor. He glances around, eyes narrowed and scanning the woods beyond you. “You with anyone? Or all alone out here?”

You know why he’s asking, you’ve seen what people can do - sending someone innocent and unimposing out to lay a trap, but you don’t lie when you shake your head. “A-alone. I’m alone, swear, sir.”

His jaw seems to tick, noticeable even from the distance you’re at before he answers you. “Okay, then. C’mon a little closer, I won’t bite, okay?” he says, and he’s so convincing that you do believe him, despite your instincts telling you otherwise. The world is cruel and unrelenting, taking away most of the trust you’ve ever had in humanity the second you place it into anything or anyone. 

You move a little closer, small, gentle steps, and he nods encouragingly. 

“Now there ya go. Look at ya…” he marvels with a click of his tongue, shaking his head once you’re just a few feet away from him. 

He takes in your messy hair, slightly matted from wearing a winter hat on and off the last few weeks and sleeping on the ground. Your clothes have seen better days too, your skin smudged with dirt no matter how many water sources you found to try and rinse off a little bit. Even despite all of that, he gazes at you with a curiosity, with that look of interest that you felt like you’d given him without trying to. It’s quiet for another moment, the both of you sizing each other up, until Joel’s look turns a little more pitiful when you shiver as a sudden gust of wind whips past you, your threadbare coat doing little to protect you from the chill in the air here. You can’t be sure if your shuddering has less to do with the wind and more with the way that this man’s eyes are digging into what feels like your very soul.

“We gotta get you inside, okay? You’re shakin’, and you look like you ain’t had a proper meal in… too long…” He continues to eye you up and down, taking in your weak frame. 

You stay silent for another moment, swallowing hard and then shuddering again. “I - I don’t know…” you breathe out. You might have some sudden, fantastical dream that this man is your savior, but it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be cautious - the mind is a tricky, deceiving thing.

“I ain’t gonna ask again, ain’t gonna beg ya, girl. C’mon,” he says a little more roughly, a hand shooting out quickly and grabbing you by the wrist and tugging. “Just want to get a good meal in you, alright?”

You wince at the grasp on your wrist, the roughness and hardness he’s starting to show you, but you let him pull, starting to move your feet and trail after him. 

“T-thank you…sir,” you murmur quietly, and he swings his head to look back at you, his eyes softening. 

“You’re welcome. Now get inside and get warm. I’ve got a fire goin’.” He lets go of your wrist, trusting you to follow him as his heavy boots clunk up the few steps leading to the front door of his cabin. It’s modest, beautifully constructed, all dark wood around the outside and a small porch. You start to wonder if this man built it himself, or just found it as it is. Your initial impression of him leads you to believe that he does seem like the type to build a whole god damn cabin. He half looks like a lumberjack already in the plaid flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. 

“Found this place ‘bout five years ago,” he says as if he could read your mind while he swings the door open. “Real nice and private, so don’t worry.”

Your eyes narrow slightly at his last comment, but you try to brush it off as you enter inside with him. The warm air hits your body, an immediate balm to your frayed nerves and chilled skin, a slightly smoky smell from the fire hits your nostrils and you immediately hear the crackle and pop of the logs in the little fireplace. The cabin is mainly one big room, a kitchen tucked into the corner right to the left of the door, and the living room beyond that with cozy couches and chairs, even a TV that you doubt is working but find yourself hopeful for some reason. It’s been a long time since you were able to watch a movie, flashing back to childhood memories when you’d lived in a more stable, thriving community that had power. 

Stairs beyond that lead to what you assume are bedrooms or a bathroom, and your eyes curiously take in all the little details and decor - the man’s jackets hanging along the wall near the entrance, his rifle propped next to the door and several different pairs of worn boots. 

You realize you’re just standing right near the doorway, silently looking around in a daze while your new acquaintance has been trying to get your attention. 

“Hey, girl, I’m talkin’ t’ya…” his voice says, the noise fading back into your consciousness.

You shake your head. “S-sorry,” you say quietly, a shy little squeak. “I was just -“

“S’alright. I got some stew goin’, that okay? I mean y’don’t have much of a choice, but I’ll ask anyhow,” he says with a wry chuckle. You simply nod in response. 

“Now go on, put your things down and sit ‘n get comfortable,” he waves towards the general direction of the kitchen table and the couch before turning back to the stove to stir the pot simmering there. You stand, feeling frozen still, panic threatening to climb up through your insides and completely take over. You still don’t feel safe, despite this man offering to warm you and feed you. How could you, you think, when you’ve been running for several weeks, trying to get away from the carnage that became your life. 

He eyes you, unmoving and frightened looking and sighs heavily. “I said,” he says, tension thickening in the air around you, “Sit.”

You clear your throat, desert dry and scratchy, and set your backpack by the door, slowly creeping over to the couch, not wanting to make this mystery man any angrier. You settle yourself down and the cushions feel like heaven, your legs and body achy from the lack of comfort you’ve had for weeks. You try not to show just how good it feels to settle into the soft, plush fabric, letting the cushions mold to your body.

“Good,” Joel coos as he glances at you from the stove. “Now that we’ve got you settled in, you got a name?”

You weakly tell him your name and he shows you the first little smile you’ve seen from him, nodding. “Gotcha. I’m Joel, okay?”

“O-okay.” You push the words out while you watch him stir the pot on the stove. You sit in silence for a few moments, thankful for the time to just catch your breath and think. Just one bowl of stew, and you’ll be out of here. You’ll ask if there’s a community nearby, somewhere that could take you in, then grab that information and run, not bother this man any more than you need to.

Joel walks over, handing you a cup of water that you shamelessly start to gulp down before he goes back and ladles some of the delicious smelling stew into a bowl. The second the scent hits you, your stomach rumbles loudly. Joel cracks a smile as he hears it and continues ladling, a brow quirked. 

“Hungry, huh?” he asks, walking the steaming bowl over to you with a spoon. You gingerly take it from his hands, being careful not to brush your still chilled fingers against his. You swear his eyes flash at you when he notices how avoidant you’re being, but he turns and walks back to the stove, getting himself a bowl as well. Joel settles down into a chair across from the couch where you sit with a weathered groan, just watching you for a few quiet moments. It does everything but put you at ease, your stomach twisting a little. You blow on a spoonful of stew before taking a bite, your mouth an explosion as it waters and takes in the delicious, rich, food. 

“Mmm,” you whine out, unable to help it. Your body wants to lunge forward, lap the stew up until every single drop is in your starved body and you can finally feel a sense of fullness again. You quickly take another spoonful, much too hot, and wince a little as it hits your tongue. 

“Slow on down, girl,” Joel says. “Let’s talk a little and it’ll slow down your eating.”

You just stare, noticing your body is trembling a little bit, and has been since you met Joel outside. You try to take a deep breath to settle your nerves, your legs so tensely pressed together that it's starting to hurt.

“You feelin’ afraid of me, that it?” he asks you, looking a little too self satisfied at the observation as he crosses his arms and leans towards you. His biceps bulge and stretch with the motion and you can’t help but find your eyes drawn to them, the way they pull at the soft flannel of his shirt. You feel your face heat up all the way to your ears and you blink hard, averting your eyes. 

“I- I mean… I don’t know you…” you mutter, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

“I know,” he says, sounding more sympathetic. “Done some bad things in my time, so hell, maybe you should be scared of me. I ain’t a nice guy. But I won’t hurt someone like you, promise ya that.” His words are enough of a reason for you to hightail it out of here the first second you can, but why do you believe them? Why do you believe him?

“How d-do you know I’m not bad too? That I don’t deserve it?” His eyes narrow and his lip twitches into a smirk before he lets out a mocking little chuckle in your direction.

“Oh sweetheart, a man jus’ knows these things. You never hurt even a fly, now have you?” That smirk stays plastered on Joel’s face as he asks and it frustrates you how little of a threat he sees in you, how little fight you have left to give. Yet you can’t find yourself blaming him, you think. If you were facing yourself in his position you’re sure you’d look like as much of a feeble joke as you feel.

You frown, still unable to look him in the eyes for longer than a few seconds, and shake your head. “No… just for hunting…” you admit.

“Alright then. Y’don’t need to act tough in front of me, girl, got it?” Joel concludes, going back to eating his stew.

“Got it,” you respond quietly, letting yourself sink further into the couch as you feel your muscles slowly relaxing.

“Now tell me... what’s this all about? What’s a little young thing like you doin’ out here by herself?”

You bite your lip and sip slowly on another spoonful of stew. “I’m… uh…” you stutter nervously. 

“Spit it out now, there’s nothin’ to be afraid of here, hm?” Joel tries reassuring you, but his words keep coming out so gruffly, doing little to make you feel much better. 

You inhale a deep breath. “Okay…” You swallow. “I was in a… community. I lived there a long time. T-they’re all gone now, I think. We got completely overrun and so I ran.” You sniffle as your nose starts to run from the warmth of the house opposing the cold you’d gotten accustomed to. 

Joel leans forward a bit in his chair, taking a hearty bite of stew, mulling your words over. “Overrun how?” he asks simply, glancing at you, studying your movements, your body language, everything. 

“U-uh, hunters, raiders, whatever they are. Bad.. b-bad people…” You look down at your bowl, not wanting to meet the intensity of his gaze, afraid to fall into his strange, hard warmth. 

“Hm… awful fuckers, ain’t they,” he says, scratching a hand down his beard. “You got away, then?”

You nod and bite inside of your lip, taking another spoonful of stew to keep yourself occupied. “Y-yeah. I ran and ran… just kept… going. They took everything, took over all of our homes…”

Joel sighs, his eyes finally going a little softer. “‘M sorry to hear that, darlin’. You know if anyone is still alive?”

You shrug. “No…”

“Your family? They with ya at this community?”

“Oh.” You shake your head. “No. They… all, uh, passed a long time ago.” Why the hell are you being so open with this stranger? You don’t owe him your story, your secrets, any of it. But you sense the urge to share it, anyhow. Maybe you’re just that desperate for human connection right now. 

“Mm, sorry to hear it again. We all know that feelin’ in a world like this,” he replies thoughtfully. Your eyes widen a bit at the softness he’s showing you right now and you give him a tight lipped smile to show your own sympathy for his losses. 

“You feel up for tellin’ me a little more about the attack? S’okay if it’s too much,” Joel adds on, still studying you with an odd gaze, almost like he’s drinking you in, quenching some thirst he had. His hand twitches, almost as if to reach out to you, but he’s much too far from where he sits right now. 

“I’m not sure if t-there’s much to tell…” you start, but then you find yourself spilling out more details, feeling the freeing sensation of unloading your burdens onto someone else. You tell Joel your community was small but well taken care of, plenty of supplies and food, in an abundant time in its history the last few months. One evening everything changed, when an armed group of mostly men came in, a few women and children in tow, looking absolutely miserable, and they aimed their guns in the air and shot off a few rounds to get everyone’s attention. People came flooding out of their homes, trying to run, only to be tackled or shot down, forced to give up our food and belongings. You tried to hide for as long as you could before slipping out of the home you shared with an older couple who had been taking care of you since you were a teenager, Harry and Josephine. They’d urged you to run, run, run, so you did. Then came your lost days, where you had no clue where you were, when you’d find your next semblance of humanity. Just trying to head west, further and further from the bitter memories you’d now have to leave behind. Barren towns and wilderness passed you over the days, hardly seeing another soul as you hid from infected, spending your nights crying yourself to sleep when you had the energy. 

And now… here you were, sitting on Joel’s couch and eating stew. Unsure of what the hell you’d do next or where you had to go. You had been an orphan for a long time, but this felt deeper, like you were an orphan to the entire world, almost, like you had nothing to even call your own now. 

Joel sits patiently, watching you stumble on words as you tell your story to him, trying not to get too choked up as all the emotions resurface. How empty things had been, how desolate the landscapes to match your faintly beating heart.

He’s leaned fully forward now in his seat, stew somewhat forgotten in his lap as you finish your recounting of the last few weeks. He breathes in and out, a large, heavy sigh that fills the room. It’s still now, fully quiet for a moment. 

“You’re a strong girl for goin’ through all of that, you know that?” he says finally, eyes softer than you’ve seen them yet. 

You just look down, returning to your stew, taking a few bites now that it’s at the perfect temperature. You’ve stopped shaking now, your body warmed up and starting to recognize that you’re getting full. You can’t eat much, your stomach unable to handle more just yet, so you push the stew away, setting it on the coffee table in front of you.

“Yeah…” you say, not really believing it as you glance out the window to watch the late afternoon sun, glaring off the ground outside, light filtering through the trees. 

“You got somewhere to go? After you’re fed and looked over, of course,” Joel asks, his eyebrow shooting up.

You consider lying, just to avoid what you’re afraid he’ll ask you. What you’re afraid you’ll say yes to. You still end up shaking your head silently, clearing your throat. You feel a sting of tears behind your eyes, your whole body going hot with the need to cry, but a deep desire to not show that weakness to him holds you back. You sniffle and blink, studying the knots in the old wood floors.

“Hey,” Joel says, trying to get your attention, to make you show him your vulnerability. “Look at me, c’mon now.” You hear him shift in his seat, a small movement born of irritation as you refuse to do as he says.

You sniffle again and clear your throat, a shake of your head making your hair fall forward, covering and hiding you further. 

“I said look at me.” That stern tone of his is back, sending a shudder through you and fear rippling deep inside your chest. You flick your red rimmed, shining eyes up to his, meeting the dark brown stare, lines permanently etched in between his eyes from all his years of worry.

“Atta girl,” he coos, completely pleasant now. “I got you, okay? You can stay, if ya need. I got food, a home, a warm bed for ya. If you have nowhere else.”

One more blink sends the tears falling down your cheeks, fat and overdue as they slide down your dirty skin, leaving tracks. You sniffle and nod, suddenly feeling a rush of gratitude towards Joel. He may be a stranger, but he fed you, got you warm, and is offering just about the kindest thing he can right now - an invasion on his space, his personal sanctuary, all for a girl he hardly even knows. 

“Y-you’d really do that?” you ask, a little incredulously, like this is a dream you’re about to wake up from any time now. 

He nods, a half smile pulling at the corner of his lips. Satisfaction plastered there now that he’s swayed you in his direction. “I would. Now I don’t wanna hear another word about it. You need to rest, you’ve been through a lot.”

“T-thank you. B-but-”

“Not. Another. Word,” he practically hisses, flashing his eyes angrily before it fizzles out quickly. You can see him practically having to reign in his impulsiveness in the moment. “There ain’t anywhere else to go that’ll keep you as safe as here, I’m tellin’ you that now. You’d be fuckin’ lost out there.” He sits back with his arms crossed now, and you’re worried that you’ve truly upset him now, that unsettling look in his eye glinting again. He wants you to stay… nearly seems to need it. It scares you, yet you feel a tug, a pull, some form of intrigue wanting you to explore that need, understand just what he could see in you.

“I’m s-sorry… I just - you’ve already done a lot for me, and I’d hate to, well, impose, or something,” you say, trying to appease him. It’s mostly true, anyhow, that you do hate to take Joel’s food and time away from him. 

He stands up and silently walks the few steps over to the couch, sitting down next to you, turning himself towards you. It feels like every muscle in your body tenses at his proximity - it makes him seem even bigger the way he takes up his cushion on the couch, body sinking in deeply, his wide shoulders practically a shield to you right now to everything behind him. Something about seeing him up this close is sending you reeling, able to study the lines in his face, his strong, wiry beard streaked with a few gray spots. You flick your eyes over his face, hoping to not be too obvious, but needing to drink him in, learn his features.

“I’m gonna have you listen to me right now, okay? Make sure you’re listenin’ real good, sweetheart.” He pauses for a moment to catch your eye, reaching a hand towards you but resting it right next to your thigh on the couch. “I’m offerin’ somethin’ mighty nice to you, ain’t I? You were ‘bout to die out there, if I’m honest. Much longer and you’d be a goner, I think. Don’t you?”

He’s waiting for a real answer from you, you realize, so you nod, eyes practically unblinking as you hang on his words, a hot coil burning in your stomach as you feel uneasiness eat at you.

“Right.” He sighs quietly. “I’m not tryin’ to be mean, sweetheart. In fact, I care a lot, that’s why I’m tellin’ the truth to ya like this. You ain’t built to be on your own, can see that clear as day. So I’ll have ya stay here and get fed and get your bearings. And I don’t want to hear anymore about it.” 

Of all the things Joel has just said to you, the thing that is stuck in your mind as you turn it over, is the way he’d said he cares. He cares about you. Would that be such a bad thing to be cared for, even if just for a little bit?

You give him a small dip of your head, a shaky smile coming to your lips. “Thank you. I’m uh, grateful.” You’re not sure what else to say, feeling like you’re signing yourself away to something you don’t feel sure about. 

“Ah look at that - a smile,” he says, clearly feeling much more light hearted now that you’ve agreed to accept his help. 

You sit back a little, your muscles finally losing some of their tension and start to eye Joel a little more curiously. “S-so you just live here all by yourself?” you ask, wishing you weren’t still such a stuttering mess. The fact was, this man made you nervous, in a way that you weren’t used to. He scared you, but in a way that it drew you in, a magnetic pull you couldn’t quite explain yet. Something in him commanded respect, reverence, almost, without trying. It was mesmerizing to witness, completely scrambling your mind if you started to think on it too hard. 

“Mhm,” Joel nods languidly, finishing off his stew and then sitting back with a satisfied sigh. He eyes your bowl that’s only half empty and then flicks them back to your face. “Ain’t gonna finish?” he asks, sounding a little irritated before his face softens. “Probably can’t fit much in your little belly right now, huh? Shrunk right up when you didn’t eat much these last few weeks.”

You nod. “I-it was good, I just… I couldn’t finish. It started to hurt…”

His eyes flash with concern. “We’ll take it slow, then,” he says, a little smile creeping onto his face.

You had noticed his avoidance to say much more about himself, so you decide to try your luck and press him again. You clear your throat, trying to turn towards him a little more as well. “You live alone. Don’t you… do you ever talk to other people?”

Joel chuckles, almost condescendingly. “‘Course I do. Town not too far from here - Jackson. I go once and a while to stock up, trade ‘em for some stuff and they’re mighty hospitable to me.”

You nod, trying not to let his snide laugh and tone get to you too much, blinking away the sensitive little tears that threaten to fall again. Joel cocks his head suddenly, seeming to notice. “T-that sounds pretty nice,” you choke out quickly.

“Sorry if I upset ya. Guess you’re right, don’t get enough practice talkin’ to people,” he says a little lighter now, smiling softly again. Joel’s version of a smile seems to only be a soft upturn of his lips, not friendly by nature. It puts you at ease and unease at the same time, that smile of his, but you’d rather see that than the scowl he was sporting at you earlier today. He pats your thigh a few times, showing his apology, and you watch his large hands move on you, noticing they’re scratched and rough. A man’s hands.

“W-wait… Jackson… this town. It’s close by?” you ask, glancing back up at him, the wheels in your head starting to turn. 

Joel’s face falls in an almost dramatic fashion, the lines between his eyes and around his cheeks getting deeper. “Why d’ya ask?” he says, his tone short and frayed sounding, leaning forward again, practically glaring at you from under his eyebrows.

Your own face falls, jaw slack for a moment before it tightens back up. “I just… I want to get out of your hair as quickly as possible, I-I don’t want to be a bother. Could find a new community there, or something…” You feel quiet as a mouse, unsure of how to assert yourself in front of Joel - it feels like there isn’t space for it when you share a room with him.

Joel’s expression becomes more stern. “Didn’t I already tell you, girl, that I’d take care of everythin’?” he spits out, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. You’re visibility tense now, your hands pressing into the cushions of the couch, ready to get up at any moment and bolt. “Y’don’t want to go to a place like that, so big, you’d be lost there, darlin’. Nobody to take care of you…”

He sits back a little, hands falling into his lap and an eyebrow cocked at you. “‘Sides,” he says, glancing out the window for a moment before studying you again. “Too far to go on your own. Can’t have you gettin’ lost in these woods again… look what happened last time, yeah?”

Maybe he’s right. You barely survived these last few weeks without completely losing your mind, and then your life, as he’s been so apt to tell you several times now. Joel… he saved you, and is offering you a place to stay, so the least you could do is be grateful for now. You could always convince him tomorrow, after you’ve had time to think and reset, to take you there, show you the way, and you can see for yourself if it’s a good fit for you or not.

“Y-yeah…” you stutter out, nodding. The look he shoots you has you choking out the next word before you can even think about it. “Yes,” you say more definitively.

“It’s settled then,” he says matter-of-factly, breathing in deeply, his burly chest rising, and then letting it out in a long, slow breath. “You probably wanna get some rest, yeah? I can set up the bed for ya.” Joel says, standing up and grabbing your bowl, taking it to the kitchen along with his empty one. 

“Do y-“ you start, standing up off the couch. 

“Yeah, I got two bedrooms, don’t worry.” His smile grows, liking that he found you predictable enough to know what you were about to ask. Your shoulders sag a little in relief and you give Joel more of a proper smile now, nodding your thanks.

“That would be great, then, yeah. And if it’s not too much…” you voice trails off and you stare at the ground, focusing your eyes on the pattern of the well worn rug underneath your feet. “Maybe a shower, bath, whatever you’ve got.”

Joel turns to face you and then walks back into the living area. He has a calm, serene expression, slightly lit up. “I’ll do ya one better. Get you some clean clothes to wear after that shower, too.”

Nothing in the entire world sounds better than what he’s offering right now.

You hiss loudly as the hot, steaming water hits your leg when you step in. Within moments, you’re basking under it, watching the dirt and dried blood from your various scrapes and scratches swirl down the drain for what feels like ages, finally seeing the water run clear as you lather up the threadbare washcloth Joel had left out for you and scrub yourself down. Every nook, every cranny, your scalp, face, everywhere you could get three times over. You can’t remember the last time you’d felt so clean, even when you’d lived back with your community. You hum happily for a few moments, letting the water soothe you for just a while longer. You hoped Joel could forgive you for taking a little bit of extra hot water today given the circumstances.

Joel hears the water running from downstairs, his fists balling up and relaxing over and over as he sits on his favorite chair, his gaze facing the stairs leading to the spare bedroom and attached bathroom. He feels tense, rolling his neck, continuing to pump his fists open and closed. A feeling in the back of his neck, traveling down his spine and legs that he couldn’t ignore - an urge. He stands up an instant later, not bothering with his well-ignored conscience, and walks upstairs and through the bedroom door with careful steps as he still has on his boots. He presses a hand onto the brass doorknob, turning it slowly, ever so slowly, pushing the door open just an inch, just… enough.

His eyes fall on the shower curtain, a white cloth that perfectly shows your silhouette through it. The valleys and curves of your body move around, arms scrubbing yourself. Joel can smell the evergreen scented soap drifting through the steamy, thick air, watching your body move fluidly as you start to hum quietly to yourself and rinse off.

He wishes he could lie to himself, deny that he felt the blood rush straight to his cock at this little show he was watching. So content, so sweet, so vulnerable right now. Need consumes his every cell - the need to show you just how good you could have it here, to take every bit of you for himself. He grins, a hungry little twitch of his mouth, moving to shut the door when a floorboard creaks under his heavy boot, and he freezes, shuffling out of the way quickly.

You’re humming quietly when you hear it, just a distant sound, but enough to catch your ear. A creak of a floorboard, something you figure isn’t unusual for an old cabin like this, but you feel a shiver run down your spine and rush to turn the water off. You throw the curtain open, water dripping down into your eyes. You quickly rub your fingers over them and glance around the spacious bathroom to find… nothing. You sigh, shaking your head, nearly laughing at the relief you feel. You’re just being paranoid, you chastise yourself as you grab the towel off the hook, squeezing the extra water out of your hair and wrapping it around yourself, snuggling into the simple comfort of a fluffy towel as you dry yourself off. 

Your fingers freeze, running cold when you reach the door, noticing a few inches of space that has the door cracked open. You swore up and down that you’d shut the door behind you, giving you that extra layer of privacy in a stranger's home. It wasn’t possible that… no, you think quickly, shaking your head again. You have to stop being so damn paranoid - your brain is just in survival mode still, looking for threats that aren’t there. 

You step into the bedroom, surveying the heavy wood furniture - an extremely cozy, country feel to the room with large logs comprising the bed frame and a patchwork quilt draped over the top. You peer around, feeling somewhat squirmy at the realization you don’t have any clothing. Joel seemingly came in and took your dirty clothes while you were in the shower, failing to leave you anything clean. It made you feel that strange swirl deep in your stomach again, the one you kept brushing off.

This is a kind man. A kind man, got it? Positive thinking.

You decide to pull it together and head out and down the stairs to the living room. You feel your cheeks heat up, a hot heat creeping all over your body as you feel so exposed, standing in your tiny towel as you descend the stairs. Joel’s eyes follow you down, watching your glowing skin, so fresh and clean, hair dripping errantly, leaving water droplets on the floor in your wake. You see a flash of something a little cloudy and hungry in his gaze before it disappears just as quickly as he showed it. 

He isn’t saying a word, isn’t offering anything, so you swallow down your discomfort and clear your throat a little. “Er… I noticed there weren’t any… clothes… for me…”

Joel sits up a little straighter, putting down the book he’s been looking at. He offers you a smile devoid of much emotion and stands up, his eyes locking on your hips for a few extra seconds. “Shucks, sorry about that, sweetheart. Let’s get you something right now. Got your old clothes ready to be done next time I do the washin’.”

You nod, fighting the urge to chuckle nervously as he walks over and passes you, his arm brushing your damp, bare one before he heads up the stairs. You’re grateful you get to trail him, afraid of just how skimpy this towel is if he’d have insisted on following behind you. You follow him into the other bedroom, his bedroom, and it’s a little more decorated, some books and little wooden carvings on the surfaces, dirty laundry scattered throughout. He opens up a drawer and tugs out a tee shirt, handing it to you, then a pair of gray sweatpants and warm, thick socks. 

“These should fit alright for ya, honey. We’ll get you some more proper fittin’ stuff soon, just gotta have a look around this place. This’ll be nice and warm for ya f’now.” He seems more chipper now, clearly much more talkative than before, and you suppose you don’t mind the change too much. It’s only proving that your paranoia was completely unfounded, just a symptom of your current circumstances. You typically find yourself a pretty trusting person, enough to have gotten you in trouble before, but the events of the last few weeks have broken that for you, leaving you feeling like a shell of who you once were. 

You snap back to reality and take the clothing in your arms, nodding in gratitude. “Thank you. I’ll go, um, change.”

Before you turn, Joel’s voice booms through the air again. “Need anythin’ else to eat? Anythin’ I can get you?” He almost sounds hopeful, like he wants you to need something from him. His eyes linger on your body, leaving you feeling just as naked as if you didn’t have the towel over you at all. 

You shake your head nervously. “Er, if it’s alright with you, I think I just want to rest… A full night’s sleep in a bed sounds like heaven right now.” 

“Let’s get you on off to heaven, then.” He grins, letting you leave the room before trailing after you, waiting outside your door while you change into your clothes. You discover some women’s underwear in the drawers inside of your bedroom, gratefully putting on a clean pair before throwing on everything Joel gave you. It’s comfortable and dry, so you won’t complain about the fit or the style - you’d still be in your dirty, worn down clothes if it weren’t for him. 

You creak the door open to find Joel and thank him again for hosting you, only to see him waiting right outside in the hall. You nearly jump, your face completely giving away your tense surprise.

“Jus’ wanted to make sure you got to bed alright,” he says gently, explaining himself. 

“Oh…” You bite your lip. “I, uh, I think I’m all set. Thank you again, Joel, really, for everything.”

His smile brightens as much as you’ve seen it and his eyes look much kinder as he nods, a dip of his head. His hand reaches forward and takes yours through the frame of the door and squeezes it. You freeze at the sudden touch, his hand so warm and rough, calloused fingertips grazing over the softer skin of your hands. It sends your entire body into a fuzzy flash of heat for just a moment before it dissipates. He squeezes once more, thumb swiping gently over the back of your hand before he releases it. Your lips sit parted in shock, eyes a little wider and hand starting to tremble a little. 

“Anytime,” Joel replies simply, his face falling before he turns to walk away, leaving you standing breathless for several moments before clicking the bedroom door shut behind you. 

You jolt out of your sleep, a gasp of breath catching in your throat and dying out as you go to yell, finding your mouth tightly clasped by a large, warm palm pressing in.

“Shh, shh,” the voice comes, right near your right ear. You shudder involuntarily from the hot breath fanning on such a sensitive spot  and try to yell again, letting it die out as a whimper against the skin pressing on your mouth.

“Shh, it’s alright. I got you,” Joel coos, his voice coming out hoarse. “No yellin’.”

You squirm helplessly against his hold, realizing another arm is draped across your abdomen, holding you in place. Your body exhausts quickly, still half asleep as you feel your struggle die out. Joel’s hand across your mouth loosens slowly, relieving the pressure.

“You were havin’ a nightmare, darlin’. Shh… c’mon now…” His hand that had been against your lips ghosts up to your head, landing in gentle strokes against your hair. You blink a few times, heavy breaths through your nostrils now as you try to steady your mind and body. Your chest struggles against his heavy arm as it heaves, your body fully taut and mind trying to play catch up.

“W-what…” you murmur groggily, laying stiffly as Joel holds your waist, fingers brushing against your curves, pressing you close as his other hand still works tender strokes along your hair.

“Oh, sweetheart, glad I heard you, hm?” he practically whispers, his face nuzzling close to the skin right under your ear. You feel the tickle of his breath and facial fair, prickly and rough against such delicate skin. You squirm gently, trying to signal that everything is too tight, too much, too… confusing. Joel is lost in his own world, absorbed in the softness of the places he begins to touch, hand grazing from your waist to your bare arms, fingertips exploring hungrily under the guise of being caring. 

All he’d needed, alone and laying awake tonight, his body burning and resolve thin, was a simple touch. A chance to show you all that you needed, all he could provide for you. Only to help you, to take care of someone who couldn’t care for herself. You’d proved that much to him - you needed his guidance, his protection, his experience.

“What’re you…”

“Jus’ comforting you, darlin’. C’mon now,” he whispers, never once pulling back or stopping the exploring he’s doing with his hands. 

He runs through his list of reasons to convince himself why everything he’s doing is perfectly necessary before losing sight of all of it entirely when he strikes that sliver of bare skin where your tee shirt has hiked up a bit off your waist, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. His hand travels a bit higher, pushing the shirt up and grazing famished fingers across your ribcage and stomach. A small groan ripples across his chest, the vibration felt by where your body meets his. He surprises you next by tugging your shirt back down, covering the bare skin before returning his hand to your hip, pulling you closer. He’s a wall of pure mass, muscle underneath his soft belly and chest, a man who’s strong but still showing a bit of his age. You nearly whimper and shake, feeling a sickly heat coursing through your veins now.

“Mmm…” he mumbles in your ear, your own voice caught in a trap of fear lodged right in your throat. Equally afraid of the way you don’t know how this night is about to end and that you’re not sure you mind where it’s going. You’ve never understood men or their intentions, and never had anyone bother to teach you, no worked up teenage boys offer to show you when you were at that age. No, you were left to guess, giggled at by other girls when you couldn’t pick up on their meanings as they discussed their own secret rendezvous. This had to be everything they talked about, didn’t it? The way you could feel heat and energy practically pulsating off of Joel’s body, his noises anything but natural sounding as he hummed little groans in your ear.

“Y’just needed someone, sweetheart. Y’need someone to take care of you, don’t you?” he finally says, fingers still running their way across your hair, nails scratching against your scalp. You whimper quietly at the feel of it, how damn good it all feels. You don’t move, don’t speak as he goes on.

“Need a man like me, darlin’, y’do. I can see it - need me to take care of everything…” He mumbles similar sentiments repeatedly in your ear before bringing his lips right to your neck, just letting them graze, the wet but chapped skin of his lips pressing in gently on your pulse point. You try not to gasp, the feeling as pleasing as it is terrifying, finding yourself gripping the sheet tighter to try not to give yourself away, give him any kind of response. 

“Don’t you, honey? Need me to take care of you?” He sounds a little more desperate now, needy for the answer he’s searching for from you.

He’s broken you down to the point you feel tears stinging at your eyes, the long awaited emotional release you’ve needed sitting right there on the precipice, a small crack waiting to fully rupture. You can’t be sure if you nod, just imperceptibly, you think, but Joel’s body language relaxes against you as he leans his entire chest and torso into you even more, giving you a squeeze. You know then that he got his answer, just what he was looking for. You let the tears slip out, rolling down your cheeks, onto the pillow on one side, likely falling right onto Joel’s face or in his hair on the other. He seems to barely notice, just swiping them quickly off your cheeks before resuming his position wrapping himself tightly around you.

“Good, sweetheart… good girl, I got you…” 

You hear his breathing start to even out shortly after, steady rise and fall of his chest against your body, and you realize he’s dozed off. Like he got what he wanted and decided he could rest now. Your entire body relaxes, a careful breath whooshing out that you hadn’t even been aware you were holding in. His hand is still tangled in your hair, other one possessively on your hip, giving you absolutely no room to move. You’re not sure you want to anymore, anyways, never having had such strength covering you, cloaking you from all of the dark, sinister things that the nighttime holds for you.

If you’re going insane, feeling safe with this man who forced his way around your body tonight, then so be it. Why shouldn’t you let yourself feel safe for once? Let yourself feel less of that burden, turn it over to Joel? Your own turning wheel of thoughts starts to scare you, the little voice in the back of your head telling you what you already know and have been trying to ignore. The one little thing that you immediately put your finger on but were too scared afterwards to lift it back up and observe it closer.

You weren’t having a nightmare, no, not at all. You knew when you woke from one, as sure as the god damned sky was blue and the grass was green. It wasn’t a foreign concept to you by any means after what you’d been through in your life. And tonight… tonight hadn’t been one of those nights. 

dividers by @/saradika!

thank you @jupiter-soups and @huffle-punk for always beta-ing my shit and talking inspo with me. love you to the moon and back &lt;3

[goquokka00]

The Little Things (Minho Ver.)

The small things he does every day that make you feel oh, so special.

Bangchan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin Jisung | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

| Cooks For You |

It's no secret that Minho can cook. And that he also enjoys cooking (at least I think he does). And so when it comes to cooking for you, he always will. It doesn't matter whether or not you know how to cook, too. He'll always be in the kitchen, making you something delicious to feed you.

I feel like there would be times where the two of you would cook together. Minho would give you a few tasks to do while he did others, and the meal created would be filled with love and would taste even better. But most of the time, if you offer help, Minho would deny it. Hell, I bet you $5 that he wouldn't even let you step foot into the kitchen, not wanting to take the risk that you might help him.

But you want water? Yeah, or you want water so you can add it to the rice cooker to get the rice started. You'd have to just ask him if you could have a glass of water from where the wooden floor met the tile of the kitchen. That way you wouldn't be threatened to have your mouth stuffed with tissues.

| Kisses the Boo-Boos Away |

I get this sneaky suspicion that Minho, who's usually a bit colder than the other members, is incredibly soft and mushy towards you. And that includes when you accidentally hurt yourself. You got a papercut, or accidentally got a rug burn somehow, or your hand is hurting from a pinched nerve, leave it to Minho.

He'll patch you up, and then kiss wherever you got hurt. Every single time without fail. If he wasn't around when you got hurt and saw you with a bandage somewhere on your body, or bruises, he'll tell you to sit down or go to him so he can kiss the area you got hurt.

Now, let's say you broke a bone or sprained something, or had to get surgery for whatever reason. Do you honestly think that would stop Minho? No. No, it wouldn't. He'd kiss wherever those stitches were, or plant plenty of kisses on the cast on your arm or leg or wherever. He just wants you to be okay, and know that he loves you.

| Holds Hands |

Whenever the two of you are out in public, Minho always wants your hand. He wants to make sure that you won't leave his side no matter what. And it doesn't matter where you are. Your hand is in his, period. You think it's letting people see you're a couple and it's a bit embarrassing to see all eyes on you? Good. They'll know who you belong to. Your hand is getting sweaty? Too bad.

I feel like Minho will also hold your hand if you're nervous. Mostly because I think that Minho is so used to dealing with Jisung when he's nervous and spiraling. He'll always give you his hand to hold onto so you can be a bit more grounded.

And if it's really bad? His fingers are intertwining with yours, baby (no because I'm actually a sucker for this shit like OMG-). He's keeping you close, squeezing your hand tighter, making sure that you know that he's here for you, and he's not letting you go until you're better.

| Spoons |

Spooning is SUCH a big thing with Minho. He loves holding you close and feeling your back up against his chest. Being your big spoon is so nice. He's fully aware that it helps you relax and makes you feel nice and safe. Though, I feel like Minho would also be the little spoon sometimes, too.

If Minho's had a tough day at work, let's say practice didn't go well, he's in your arms the moment he gets back home. He won't really talk, just hums and grunts while guiding you back to the couch. And then, the next thing you know, you're holding him to you.

It's just something about the way he can curl up against you, and feel your arms around him while you whisper kind words in his ear, kiss his head and the nape of his neck, even how your hands will go and find his, intertwining your fingers together. His cold facade just melts when you hold him to you. It's just...so easy to relax in your arms.

| Touching Foreheads |

I feel like touching foreheads with Minho isn't really something anyone would expect. But again, I stand by the whole, Minho's putting up this big guy act and then when he gets back to you he's a wittle baby, ordeal. And touching foreheads falls under that.

I think he'd do this when he's having a tough time. Like, if something happens, or if he needs to be serious about a hard topic to talk about, he keeps his forehead on yours. It helps Minho feel closer to you, and he can speak quietly and not have to worry about you not hearing him. And the same goes for you, too. He feels like it's easier to comfort you if something did happen.

But I also think that this is something he'd do if he had to apologize to you. It's more intimate and heartfelt to him. Let's say you both got into a nasty argument, and the aftermath is him going and staying at the dorms for a while. When he comes back, he's apologizing by putting his head on yours, holding you close, and speaking in such a soft but modest voice. And it warms your heart every time.

Hey! Firstly, thank you so much for reading this post, and I really hope you enjoyed! If you did, please like, reblog, or comment so I can see how I'm doing with writing and getting feedback! I hope you have a lovely day! Sleep well, stay in good health, and eat something if you haven't! ❤️❤️❤️

[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

The Prince - Chapter Eight

A/N: Hello, friends! I'm afraid today I bring more stress in this chapter. I hope you are all still enjoying the story so far. Thank you for all your comments, likes, and reblogs. Only two more chapters to go!

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader Word Count: 4.3k Synopsis: Jace and the reader return to King's Landing, where for one glimmering moment it seems like all might be well, until an unexpected visitor arrives to shake that hope.

Tag List: Please see comments! Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

Previous Chapter

Jace is not in bed when you wake up. For the last three mornings, he has been the first thing you see when you open your eyes. Sitting up in the fluffy bed that the two of you had shared the night before, you glance around his room. It’s colder than normal in here, as well as empty, and the door to the balcony is wide open.

You grab a robe and wrap it around yourself quickly, making for the open doors. Jace stands along the railing, his back to you. He’s dressed, a first in the last few days, but you’re relieved that it’s only in his sleep clothes, not his full riding gear. He doesn’t hear you until you come up behind him, until you're wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Morning,” he says, turning to face you and giving your lips a soft kiss.

“It’s freezing out here, Jace,” you say, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re freezing,” you say, rubbing a hand over his chest. He laughs as he takes that hand, kissing it softly. He keeps his eyes on the horizon, a slight frown on his face.

“What is it?” you ask.

“My mother sent a raven,” he says, his jaw tense.

“Better than a dragon,” you say, and you smile when he does.

“She says I must return.”

“We knew this day was coming,” you say.

“She also asked that you return, too.” He turns to you then, taking your hands in his. He looks you over for a moment, a contemplative look in his eyes. “My first thought was to ignore her summons.”

“Jace,” you say softly.

“But I figured she would send a dragon then. So I thought about you and I getting on Vermax and heading for Pentos.”

“Jace!” you say, eyes wide. He smiles.

“I figured you’d say as much.”

“As much fun as running away with you sounds,” you say, “You belong in King’s Landing. You have a throne waiting for you.”

“What if I don’t want it anymore?” he asks quietly. You frown at him, waiting until his eyes meet yours to kiss him softly.

“I’d say you’re not thinking straight because we’ve been fucking nonstop for the past three days."

“Can you blame me?” he asks, his arm going around your waist.

“No, and I can’t even believe I’m saying it, either, but we have to return to King’s Landing. We have to face whatever fate awaits us.”

“Not right away though,” he says, pulling you flush against him.

“No,” you say with a smile, “Not right away.”

Later that morning, Jace mounts Vermax and flies back to King’s Landing. He hates that you have to part in Dragonstone, that you have to take a ship back. He wishes that he could have just one more moment with you, because as he approaches his home, a strange, paranoid feeling washes over him. He’s always been hopeful for your future, and maybe it just has to do with the fact that so much has changed between the two of you, but he feels that hope slipping.

When he gets to the castle, his first stop is his mother’s chambers. The look she gives him when he walks in is part relief at seeing him, and part disappointment.

“Mother,” he says, stopping just inside of the doorframe, hands behind his back.

“Hello, Jace,” she says, “I trust your flight was well?”

“It was.”

“Good,” she says, giving him a smile that chills him. “Sit down, please.” She motions to the table in her chambers and sits down after him.

“Mother—”

“Just, give me a moment,” she says with a shake of her head. “I want to make sure I understand clearly.

"Baela discovered that there is something between you and Lady Y/N, so she sends Y/N to Dragonstone, so that she could clear things up with you, after which, you follow to Dragonstone and hide out there for three days.”

“That sounds accurate,” he says with a sigh. Rhaenyra raises her eyebrow at him.

“You've insulted Baela," she says. Jace drops his head.

“That was never my intention.”

“Regardless, the insult has landed."

“Where is Baela?” he asks. "I saw Moondancer was gone."

“Driftmark. She should be back in a few days.”

“And have you thought any more about my request?” he asks. Rhaenyra sighs, looking at him blankly.

“You’ve put me in a tough position, Jace. You’ve put Y/N in a worse one.”

“What do you mean?’ he asks with a shake of his head.

“If I grant you leave to marry her, all is well. But you’ve bedded her,” she says, making him blush as he clenches his jaw. “If I deny you, what becomes of her? Of the child she may bare you?” He doesn’t have an answer because he has been denying the reality of the matter to himself.

“Tell me, did you do this to force my hand?” she asks.

“No!” he says quickly, “No. I love her.”

“You have to plead your case with Baela, Jace. But," she says, sighing as she meets his eyes, "If she agrees, you have my blessing."

The trip back to King's Landing took as long as the one to Dragonstone, but it feels infinitely shorter. You had two days to prepare yourself for what you will face when you returned, enough time, you thought, to sort out your own feelings. But the entire time, your head and your heart were fighting over the right path.

As you step off the ship and on to steady ground, you decide to let whatever is coming come. Whether that means getting sent back to the Vale, your reputation getting destroyed, or all your dreams coming true.

Inside the Red Keep, your first thought is to find Jeyne and apologize for leaving so abruptly. It had been so early when you left, you hadn't had time to find her and tell her what was happening.

You take a few more steps into the Keep when someone slips out of the shadows, causing your heart to leap.

“Let’s turn around and go back to Dragonstone,” Jace whispers in your ear, placing a soft hand on your arm. Your racing heart seems to settle to its normal pounding at seeing him.

“We've already discussed what will happen if we do that,” you say with a smile. Jace glances around the large hallway before taking your hand and pulling you into an empty study. The minute the door closes, he pins you to the doorframe, his lips crashing into yours. You laugh into the kiss, a hand on his waist, keeping him close to you.

“Your Highness,” you say, breaking away to catch your breath.

“Don’t start with that,” he says, the smile on his face never leaving.

“I need to get back into character,” you say innocently. He kisses you again.

“I like you just the way you are.”

“We can’t be seen together, you know,” you say. His smile does fall a little then, realizing that you are true to your word. Now that you’ve returned to King’s Landing, you will have to go back to playing your parts.

Simply put, there is no more time for this fairytale.

"I have news," he says.

"Oh?"

"My mother has given her blessing, officially, as long as Baela gives hers first."

"Jace," you say quietly, so stunned you take a step back from him. He smiles, pulling you right back.

"That's good news, right?" he asks.

"It's wonderful news," you say, now breathless.

"Well then look more excited," he says, making you laugh.

"I can't trust this hopeful feeling inside of me," you say, meeting his eyes. He smiles, brushing your hair back behind your ear with a gentle frown.

"I know what you mean."

"Do you think she--"

"I don't know," he say, shaking his head. "I don't know."

"Well," you say, holding his hands. "It is good news. We can be hopeful, but also realistic."

"How do we do that?" he asks with a laugh.

"We keep pretending that nothing has changed," you say. "And wait for the moment that we might actually be able to be ourselves."

“I don’t like this,” he says. You cup his cheek, your thumb brushing softly.

“I don’t either,” you say. You need to break apart, make your way to your separate chambers. “I love you,” you say, watching him look back to you. It’s the best way you can say goodbye right now.

“I love you,” he says. “I’ll see you soon.” You nod and lean in to kiss his soft lips once more.

Once you've settled into your room, greeting Brigitta, who gives you a knowing look, you head for Jeyne's quarters. When she opens the door, the look she gives you, deadpanned with a raise eyebrow, only makes you laugh. Sudden excitement fills you, knowing that she might share in your joy.

“You know, I didn’t come all this way, just for you to flee to Dragonstone for days,” she says, turning from the door, leaving you to follow her into the room.

“I didn’t flee, I was sent.”

“Within reason, I think,” Jeyne says, turning to face you. “If my fiancé was seeing someone behind my back—”

“Jeyne.” She studies your face, the look on it.

“What is it?” she asks.

“Rhaenyra has officially given her blessing. As long as Baela agrees, Jace and I can be together.”

"She has?" she asks, taking your hand.

"Yes," you say with a smile.

"Oh Y/N, that's wonderful. But will Baela agree?" she asks. Your smile falls a little then.

"I don't know. Jace doesn't either."

"She left the same day he did, you know," Jeyne says, guiding you into her room, sitting down next to you. "Rhaena thought she might be heading to meet the two of you in Dragonstone." You take in a breath, realizing how lucky it was that she didn't, that you got to have those few days alone with Jace.

"Should the fact that she didn't make me hopeful or not?"

"I don't know her that well," she says. "Rhaena does seem to be cooling off a little, though."

"Good," you say, setting your jaw.

"It's okay, you know," she says, leaning forward until you meet her eyes. "It's okay that you tried to find your happiness with Jace. Even if it doesn't work out in the end, you had this time together. It matters." You don't have the words, so you just give her a smile, fighting off the tears and nerves that build inside of you.

"So," she says, changing the subject to lighter matters, "Tell me how it was."

You don't see Jace the rest of that day. Jeyne invites you back to her quarters for a private dinner, and on your return to your quarters, you wonder if he might be waiting. If you might pick up old habits.

But when you approach your door, he is not there. You try to hide your disappointment as you settle in for the night. Brigitta goes about laying out your nightwear, and you are just about to change when a knock comes from the door.

You answer it, foolishly hoping its Jace, but instead find a member of the Kingsguard waiting.

"Lady Y/L/N, your presence is requested in the throne room immediately."

"Oh. Yes. Very well," you say, anxiety creeping in. This is to be the moment then, when you find out what your future will hold.

As you walk down to the throne room, your heart thuds. Jeyne appears at the opposite end of the hallway. She has a soft smile on her lips, too, but there is the same uncertainty there, too.

When you walk into the throne you, when you spot the Iron Throne, you aren’t sure you’re breathing, not sure what you’re seeing fully, until Jeyne stops in her steps, gasping quietly.

Standing in front of the throne is Barun Blacktyde, your former fiancé.

The world blurs around you, fading into the distance. Ringing fills your ears. Sweat builds at your brow. All you can see is Barun, his tall figure, corded with muscles, and the cruelest expression on his face.

“Hello, Y/N,” Barun says, meeting your gaze, a wicked smile on his face.

“Lo-Lord Blacktyde,” you say, your feet stuck to the floor. Jeyne doesn’t move any further, but her hand brushes yours, a gentle, quiet reminder that she’s here. The gesture is sweet, but useless. She had been there when the arrangement was made in the first place, and couldn’t do anything to keep you from him.

“Thank you for joining us, Lady Arryn, Y/N,” Rhaenyra says. Her tone is firm, and you break your gaze from Barun to look at her. She sits upon the Iron Throne, a strained, tight-lipped expression on her face. It is only when you look towards her that you realize Jace is at her side, his hand gripping the pommel of his sword, his face pale.

“Perhaps the two of you can shed a little light on this situation,” Rhaenyra continues. Jeyne takes your hand fully in hers, stepping forward twice, just enough to recognize her queen, but still stay far from Barun.

“Apologies, Your Grace,” Jeyne says, “But we are as confused as you are. It has been years since either of us have seen the Lord Blacktyde.”

“I’ve come to collect what was promised to me,” Barun says, his voice harsh, as if this is an argument he has repeated to Rhaenyra already.

“Who was promised to you,” Rhaenyra says, her voice tight, “Lord Blacktyde claims that he is betrothed to Y/N,” she says, turning to the two of you. If it wasn’t for Jeyne’s grip on your hand, you might have run, might have fainted, so scared are you in that moment.

“That was years ago,” Jeyne says immediately, watching Barun as he paces the room, eyeing the two of you, a predator stalking his prey. “And the betrothal fell through when Lord Blacktyde married another.”

“Lady Blacktyde died two months back,” Barun replies, startling you at how close he has gotten. He still stays a step away, constantly moving, but his focus is solely on you. You won’t quiver before him, and keep your eyes ahead, keep them on Rhaenyra. If you look to Jace, you know you will break.

“My condolences for your loss, Lord Blacktyde. But if what Lady Arryn says is true—”

“Y/N is unmarried, is she not?” he asks, and this time he is closer, just a step from you. The smell of sea salt and sweat cling to him. You straighten, hoping to move inconspicuously away from him.

Rhaenyra glances at Jace before answering, “Not presently, no.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that deal is void,” Jeyne says, dropping your hand to move closer to Barun, seamlessly pushing you behind her. “You broke it when you married Lady Blacktyde.”

“Is the Vale so eager to lose allies?” Barun asks lowly. Jeyne smiles, devoid of any joy.

“Are you threatening me, My Lord?” Jeyne asks.

“I only mean that the deal was brokered to forge an alliance with our two great houses. That something should change that—”

“You changed it already when you married,” you say, turning to look at him. Fear still resides within you, but so does a growing anger. He seems to have an equal look of displeasure on his face.

“So, she does speak,” he says, sizing you up.

“Our agreement has ended,” you say, “If you wish for it to be reinstated, I suggest you plea your case to my cousin, instead of coming in and demanding that which does not belong to you.”

“You dare tell me—”

“An excellent idea, Y/N,” Rhaenyra says, standing from the throne. “Lord Blacktyde, you've come into my home uninvited, I suggest you rethink your style. I shall offer you boarding here until an agreement can be made between you and House Arryn.” She looks over at you with a withering stare.

“I’m sure the pair of you have plenty to do,” she says. Words fail you, but Lady Arryn steps up, understanding the queen’s signal.

“We do, Your Majesty.”

“Off you go, then.”

Jeyne doesn’t waste a moment. Before even the guards have stepped up to guide Barun to his rooms, she grabs your arm. As she drags you out of the throne room, you look towards Jace. His face is ashen, his head hung low.

“Come on,” Jeyne says, pulling you after her. Neither of you say anything on the march back to her chambers. When she closes the doors behind you, she locks it tightly.

“Jeyne,” you say, breathless, “How did he know I was here?”

“I don’t know. Spies in the Vale?” she muses. There is fear on her face, which only makes the fear inside of you grow. So many thoughts fill your head, but nothing you can make sense of. A plan to escape rattles around. What Barun might take instead of you. But mostly, you think of Jace and the look on his face when he realized what was happening.

“Jeyne,” you begin, your tears from before wallowing up. She is by your side in a moment, her hands on your arms. “What the fuck am I going to do?”

“I don’t know,” she says, “I don’t know. But we’ll figure it out together. I promise you.” You nod, not fully believing her.

Jace decides to stop fighting sleep when the sun is visible from the window in his room. He rolls over with a groan as his maids enter. They curtsy to him, but even the task of nodding his head is too much for him.

“How did you sleep, Your Highness?” Cecelia asks. She has been his maid since he was a boy, and the way she is looking at him now, Jace knows she could see right through him.

“I’ve had better nights,” he says, sitting up, propping his arms on his knees.

“That seems to be the common theme around here today,” she mutters as she sets out his breakfast.

“What do you mean?” he asks. She only glances at him, but that look is confirmation enough. “How is Y/N?”

“I haven’t seen her,” she says, nodding to the other maid to dismiss her. Once she’s out the door, she continues, “But her lady’s maid was up all night, because Lady Arryn had a fitful night. Says she kept waking up, screaming.”

“I need to see her,” he says, throwing back his sheets.

“The Queen has asked that the two of you remain separated,” she says. Jace barely hears her as he tugs on a shirt and pulls on a pair of pants, whatever is close by.

“Cecelia, please,” he says, eyes wide.

“The guards will stop you,” she says. “But . . .”

“But?” he asks, stepping closer to her. The older woman looks up at him with a sad smile.

“There’s a servant’s entrance that can get you into her room. It’s a long path—”

“I don’t care,” he says. “Show me.”

The walls of the servant’s hallway are dark, and are nearly too tight for him to walk through, let alone two people at a time. His mind isn’t on the spider webs, or the dank smell of the halls. He just needs to get to you. He thinks about the night he had, the lack of sleep, and knowing that it was worse for you makes him sick.

When he finally reaches the door to your quarters, he takes a breath. It’s been nearly ten minutes since he left his chambers. The entire walk over he thought he knew what he was going to say, but here at your doorstep, he’s at a loss.

The light of the room is jarring in retrospect to the dark hallway he leaves. When he walks in, he hears soft chatter, and he spots you almost immediately.

You are still in your dressing gown, your hair flowing down your back, in tangled curls. Your back is turned to him, but when he closes the door behind him, you turn. Your eyes go wide.

“Your Highness,” you say.

“Really? We’re going back to—” he stops when he sees you nod towards the corner of the room. Lady Arryn stands from the breakfast table and makes her way towards him. She curtsies and Jace nods his head politely.

“What a lovely surprise, Your Highness,” Jeyne says.

“Lady Arryn, I need to have a word with Y/N, if you wouldn’t mind,” he says. She studies him for a long moment but then nods her head.

“I’ll be right outside the door,” she says, glancing at you before leaving the room. When the door closes, you turn towards him.

“Jace, I know you must be furious with me,” you say, “And you’ve got every right to be, I—"

“I’m not angry, Y/N,” he says, moving closer to you. “I’m confused as hell, but mostly I'm worried about you.”

“I’m sorry,” you say gently.

“Don’t be sorry, just tell me what’s going on.”

“There is nothing going on between Lord Blacktyde and I. There never was.”

“He made it seem otherwise,” he says, bracing a hand on the back of a chair. You watch him for a long moment, and he can see you fighting with yourself, deciding whether you’ll tell him the full story. “Y/N, just tell me the truth.”

“Fine,” you say, running a hand through your hair. “Fine.” You take a seat at the table, nodding for him to do the same. He does, his pulse racing as he waits for you to tell him.

“When you came to the Eyrie all those years ago, asking for our help, what were Jeyne’s terms of agreement?” you ask. Jace’s brow furrows.

“A dragon to guard the Vale.”

“And what else?”

“That when the war was over, you would be allowed access to live within King’s Landing, as the Queen’s ward,” he says with a sigh.

“There was a deeper reason behind that. Before you came to the Vale, Lord Royce had arranged a betrothal for me, to Lord Blacktyde. Since my father’s death, we had been scrambling to find our footing, and he accepted the first worthwhile offer for me.

“What neither of us knew, was the kind of man Barun was. Is,” you say. “He’s got wandering hands, a fierce temper, and I was terrified of him.” Jace’s heart breaks at your words, and he reaches for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“We didn’t see a way out until you came. Jeyne took the opportunity, and," you say, taking a breath, "You saved me. Those long years during the war, I wasn’t afraid because I knew I had an escape. Jeyne told Barun that she wanted me to go to King’s Landing, to become a more well-rounded woman. He got sick of waiting and eventually married someone from the Iron Islands. Our engagement was called off, because of you.” He is silent for a long moment, sitting with the gravity of your words.

“When I heard the news, I was so relieved. But still, in the back of my mind, there was a fear. What if he ever came back? What if something happened to his wife? I waited five years to come here, not knowing when he would appear again, demanding that the engagement be reinstated."

“And now he is back,” he says. Jace is sick and he’s angry, but most of all, he just wants to take you in his arms and hold you. He can see the lack of sleep in you. The dark circles under your eyes, how devoid of energy you are.

“Now, more than ever we need to ensure our marriage," he says firmly.

“Jace,” you say, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. “I am not sure we have that choice.”

“What do you mean?”

“There was a time, during our initial engagement, where I tried to break it off with Barun, and in response, he threatened to bring war to the Vale,” you say.

“We’ll stop him. Can he stand up against our army? Against Vermax?”

“I would not send you into another war,” you say quietly. “And The Vale’s reinforcements are already so depleted.”

“So you mean to give in to his bargaining?” he asks.

“I don’t know what I mean to do,” you say with a shake of your head, “I’ve thought about it all night long.”

“He can’t hurt you here, Y/N,” he says, taking your hand. You look at him with sad eyes.

“He is possessive. Cruel. If he ever found out about us, about what we’ve done,” you say quietly. “I am dead.”

“Y/N.”

“He wants me as a trophy. Wants me to have children for him, he wants to use me. That is the future that awaits me. Now you see why I was trying so hard to find a suitor, I was trying to ensure that by the time he came looking, I was already gone.”

“Why can’t you see that you’ve found your suitor?" he says gently, "I will protect you.”

“We don’t even know if that’s a possibility, Jace.”

“We do know. My mother has given us her blessing, we--"

“And what will she think now?" you ask, "After what she's seen today? What kind of a queen would I make?”

“I won’t allow this to happen," he says, setting his jaw, stepping closer to you. "He's not going to just take you away from me."

“Jace,” you say with a frown, “Depending on what your mother says, what kind of deal Jeyne can make—"

“There’s always a chance,” he says, cupping your cheek. “I love you. Don’t you love me, still?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then we will figure this out, like we always have.”