#might add pet tags later

[coyoteclan]

Big TW for pet loss

Hey, clangen tumblr and those who just enjoy the silly cats on this blog. I know it's been a little bit of time since my last update, but unfortunately during the past few months, I have been caring for my closest friend, Comet.

She's been my best friend for 15 whole years, and on February 9th of 2024, I'm sad to say that she has passed. I won't lie when I say that this is one of the hardest posts I've ever made, but I want to continue this blog in her honor. Normally, I have a terrible habit of just letting projects like this slip by me and gather dust; however Comet was meant to play an integral part within the blog to immortalize her, and I refuse to let something meant just for her to go to waste.

I want to thank you all first of all for being such an amazing community. I've genuinely had so much joy come of this blog, and it pains me that I let it go stagnant for as long as I have. There are 568 of you now, which is so extremely wild to me; but I hope that from now on, you can all love Comet as much as I did, even if as a memory.

I hope to return to posting content both here and on my main, @mxssacre , but for now I still need time to grieve and come to terms with the loss of someone that was so incredibly intertwined with everything I've done since I was 9 years old.

Thank you for everything Comet, my heart, my soul, my love.

More of my favorite photos of her beneath the cut.

It's hard to choose favorites out of the thousands of photos I've taken of her over the years, but I hope these do her justice to show what an amazing being she was. I hope you're hunting your toy mice in the stars, Comet.

[itsonlydana]

Noisy Neighbors | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader x Bard 👑 [king's special]

Your new neighbors have been the bane of your existence - or rather sleep - for the last few nights, always keeping you up with their extensive love life. When you go up to confront the couple, you find another solution to the problem.

warnings/tags: NSWF! THIS IS ADULT CONTENT ✋️| [modern!AU] threesome, oral (f receiving), anal sex (m receiving), unprotected p in v, slight choking, brats (reader & Thranduil), mocking & dirty talk, Thranduil being a snarky bitch, he bites a bit, spitting, one ass-slap, praise, pet names, dom!bard, [reader is described with hair no further, no use of y/n]

word count: 6,2k

an: *lifts hands into the air* I'm sorry but writing Thranduil bitchy in this trio is what comes naturally, alright? I've been powering through this whole Sunday and between watching f1 and eating watermelon and packing up for a vacation, this surely made this day better. (not proofread, just wanted this baby out)

+ masterlist + rules + 🌿 reposts and comments are much appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

They’re at it. Again! 

Another night and you’re yet again held up by your neighbors fucking for the second time; on a Tuesday no less.

It’s 1 am and nearly seventy-three minutes – timed and noted down in your frazzled brain – after the noise had stopped the first time but now the moaning upstairs continues; this time accompanied by the banging of probably a bed frame that, if the force is anything to go by, is close to smashing in the walls. 

You haven’t seen the new neighbors that had moved into the apartment above you, there had been moving trucks, a handful of handsome and very good-to-look-at guys carrying furniture around the garden and blocking the elevator for hours, leaving cigarette buts around and ringing at yours so often you doubted it was an accident every time, but there had been no one who introduced themselves.

Well, not personally. 

Or rather in person, because what you hear every night is as personal as it gets. 

As you lie in your bed, alone one might add, you wonder who this couple is. 

Not that you have anything better to do. They’re the reason you’ve been either sleepless or fallen asleep to a lovely ASMR of two guys moaning that slowly snuck itself into your dreams; if anyone dares to say it isn’t appropriate or normal to think about the – sex – life of your neighbors you could counter that you had every right! Especially you. 

They’re probably young, you figure, not by the number of times they’re going at each other and the length, god, it has been a good while, that stamina is astounding, but by whatever coherent words you can understand now and again, their voices delimited the range of possible ages. 

And you had seen a pair of laced-up thigh-high black boots walking up the stairs after you had once heard the front door open and raced to peek through the peephole. Another time there had been a pair of very shiny and tight boxers left in the washing room downstairs and while you felt like a creep expecting them hanging on the line a few feet away from you, your basket clutched into your hands as you thought of the other renters here and how often you had seen their underwear, you concluded this must be one of theirs. The shoes as well as the boxers could belong to some older couple but that was most unlikely adding the different factors.

The names on their doorbell say ‘Oropherion & Bowmann’, though no Google search has brought up anything forth that could be them, nothing around this area anyway. 

Another moan rips through the night, guttural and raspy, and by now, that sound’s imprinted into your mind as well as the gasp and shout that follow. A few seconds of bed rattling later the boyfriend/husband/lover roommate with lots and lots of benefits reaches his peak as well in a deep moan that reverberates in your bones and sends a heat to your face and much lower. 

When silence falls, there’s an embarrassing moment of clarity as you release a shaking breath and quickly stand up on shaking legs to open your window, inhaling the cold air outside to fight against the urge to look up some porn and follow their example. 

They’ve gotten to your head, twisted up whatever the stress at work had left to be corrupted into this perverse lust. On the one hand, you’ll do anything for a night of full sleep but on the other hand… what you wouldn’t do to – no, no, no, this route is just a spur of restlessness. Leftover frustration over the last few exes, and dates being unable to bring out whatever your neighbors clearly had no problems with. 

They’re so vocal in their pleasure, that the last experiences of grinding against jeans in dingy club bathrooms or hookups ended in an unsatisfied call to a cab firm makes laying there, listening, fantasizing, even more unbearable. 

Not just because of the few residues of your consciousness, the blaring ‘this is so wrong’ -sign lighting up neon red in your head, but taking in their noises travels a long way through your body and you’re short of actually snapping and resolving the issue of the throbbing inside your pants yourself. 

The silence and air luckily help the cooldown; body and mind alike, and you wait, breathing in and out, calming down. Being up this late (or early) grants you the advantage of hearing the cicadas, the constant clicking, the low buzz of the aircon, and the distant rush of cars passing by. Somewhere there’s laughter, across the street, a TV light flickers through the white curtains fluttering in the opened window. 

People and animals are still up. Life’s going on. Another night of losing sleep isn’t the end of the world, even if the long day ahead will try defiling this feeling of peace that you conjure, brain hooked on the few meditation videos your friend has shown you recently. The stress of this situation manifests in an uncontrollable grumpiness that slips over your tongue and spills out of your eyes like thunderous weather clouded once bright skies – suddenly, one sentence meant nice gets on your nerves. 

You sigh and trot back to the pushed-back covers of your single bed, slipping your naked legs under the thin sheet. This is fine. Completely fine. You just need to close your eyes and concentrate on those damn sheep you had been counting before the rude interruption.

One sheep …. your shoulders sack into the pillow, relaxing slowly.

Two sheep … a heavy yawn breaks through your lips.

Three sheep … finally, you’ll be able to fall asleep. A few hours aren’t preferred, yet they’re better than no sleep at all.

Four sheep — and is that another. fucking. moan?

You sit up in your bed fast enough for dizziness to take over but that isn’t stopping any of the rage that switches your body to autopilot. In seconds after the godforsaken long moan echoes, you’re taking long and hard steps across your apartment, not caring one bit that you’re wearing neither shoes nor a long enough shirt to barely cover your ass and you haven’t even met them so this was neither an appropriate outfit nor emotion to confront them for the first time but fuck propriety!

“Fucking men,” you mumble underneath your breath as you waltz through your front door, – taking one step back to carefully push a sandal in between door and frame –, and then you’re up the stairs. Each step is fueled by that anger, the restlessness that pushes you over. In no other world would you have gotten this infuriated to completely ignore the otherwise introverted side of you, though they have taken it too far, “Just you wait.” 

You basically fly across the corner of the stairway, rushing up the last few steps until you see the dark door, boots standing in front of it, and before you can even think about what you’re about to do, your fists already collide with the wood once, twice, three angry times.

Four for good measure.

Five just because they’re surely taking their time.

Before your hand knocks another time, the door is being ripped open and you’re suddenly face to face with the nightly disturbers of your peace. Or rather face to chest. You’re certain your eyes are still angry because when you lift your chin to look away from those sweaty chests and find their faces, the man closest to you flinches the tiniest bit.

“You’re fucking loud,” you point a finger firstly at them, then down, pronunciation making it clear that you aren’t swearing per se, “I’ve been trying to sleep for so fucking long and I’ll give you one guess why I’m still up and about? Huh? Ever heard of compassion for neighbors or– I don’t know, holding in some of the noises?” Your chest heaves at the row of complaints that spills over your curled lips, cheeks hot and very possibly just as red as they feel.

There is a second of silence where your voice carries through the hallway, bouncing along the walls. 

You take the opportunity to give them a quick once-over, adding a wealth of new details to the mental picture you've been building. The man in front has dark brown, messy hair pulled into a ponytail, with some silver strands curling and sticking wetly to his forehead and temples. He sports a scruffy beard, with stubble on his pinkish cheeks and a thicker mustache over his lips. His body hair trails down, covering his defined chest, and extends further into the tight black boxers you saw in the basement.

The other one is strikingly different. Tall as well, towering over you though this has to do with the ice-cold and annoyed look that bores into you out of blue-grey eyes under heavy eyebrows. Long blonde hair falls over his lean chest, slightly ruffled but that’s no wonder after the two-and-a-half rounds in their bed. His lips are stuck together, adding to his attitude.

Both of them are gorgeous, dressed in nothing but boxers, and their bodies are marked by fingerprints and scratches. And while they surely are a bit older than you, that gap couldn’t be much.

“Wow,” the blonde, the one leaning against the wall behind his partner, the one being more long legs than anything else, rolls his eyes, “Aren’t you lovely?” 

You swear you nearly feel a vein pop. 

“Lovely?” you bring out between clenched teeth. 

The brunette shoots a look over his shoulder, getting a shrug out of the taller one in exchange that most likely means he doesn’t care one bit, and then he turns back to you, offering a crooked smile that sinks in the edge of the right corner, an apology pulling the plush lips down. “I’m sorry,” he starts and nudges his head back, “an’ excuse Thranduil, he can be very – bratty.” The thick accent that curls around the words slightly surprises you but you’re back on track fast.

One eyebrow raised you stare at them. “Sure,” sarcasm drips over your tongue, “and to shut him up you dick him down or what?” In the morning, you’ll probably very much regret this crude language, the dismissive tone that resembles more a hiss than anything else. 

“Yes, actually,” Thranduil cuts in and pushes his sharp chin up, looking down at you over the bridge of his nose. One of his hands, gods, they’re huge, lazily pats the broad shoulders of his partner, long and ringed fingers clanking together. He’s laying down heavily on some possessive shit you couldn’t care less about.

“Bite the curb or turn the moaning down,” you snap back, brows furrowed together. 

“Maybe –” 

“I’m Bard, by the way,” the brunette interrupts him and holds out a hand for you to shake. Hands, that had been who knew where a few minutes ago. Both of you seem to realize this at the same moment and while he cringes and pulls back, you offer your name, only looking at Bard and ignoring Thranduil, draped over Bard's back like a prying cat.

“Nice to meet ya. Thought about coming down a few times but never caught you home,” Bard says, attempting small talk. His effort is overshadowed by the sharp look-over Thranduil gives you, and it's clear that this is not the time to play the friendly neighbor.

You make that clearer by crossing your arms in front of your chest, unconsciously bunching up your shirt, and revealing the black string of your panties. Bard swallows, heavily.

“Well, nice to meet you,” you echo back dryly and cock your hip, “Can I go back to sleep in peace now? Are we done with this?”

Bard’s smile is pained, a bit embarrassed if you have to guess. “Sure, sorry again.”

“I’m not.” 

Thranduil hasn’t even looked at you as he whispers loud enough into Bard’s ears that it’s definitely meant for yours as well. And that piece of shit has the gall to flutter his lashes, his mouth ghosting over the hickey right against Bard’s neck, the offending lips curled into a smirk you want to wipe off. 

The sigh that leaves Bard is deep and deflates his whole chest, his shoulders following the drop of his arms. “Thran–”

“Oh, is that right?” On the contrary, you push your shoulders back and tip your head, sizing up the neighbor who, in your opinion, can move right back out again. No matter how pretty and unfairly sexy he is, that mouth of his ruins it. “Where do you pull out this fucking behavior? I just came here because you two have been going at it for hours and haven’t bothered to think about anyone else. I'm so sorry that –”

“Apology accepted,” Thranduil grins. His grey eyes are gleaming in amusement at your noticeable anger and he makes a high sound out of the back of his throat that sounds a lot like a giggle.

“Fucking hell, Thran!” Bard slaps his hand back, the flat of his palm meeting flexing muscles of Thranduil’s thigh, and lowly, sensually, Thranduil moans. This man is the walking definition of shamelessness.

That sound, the low vibration that usually comes through your walls, shoots to your core so fast that you sputter on the next breath. Hot curling heat makes itself comfortable in your lower stomach and you can’t help but blush – a feast for the unabashed man.

“If I had known we had such’ prude for a neighbor we would’ve found another place,” Thranduil says, most likely just to tease, because in the few minutes you’d known him, he’s definitely a teasing brat.

Ready to fight for yourself you shake your head and furrow your brows further.  “I'm not prude –”

“It’s okay” A Cheshire cat-like smile disproves the false compassion, making it all sound much more patronizing. Thranduil has gotten under your skin, an itch you yearn to scratch however you can, “Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“No, but I’m not a prude!” You lick your teeth, stepping closer to their door as if that will make your point more convincing than the tight vintage shirt you’re wearing, with a fading Care Bear printed right over your tits.

In mocking, Thranduil rests his chin on Bard’s shoulder, holding your slowly wavering gaze. “Not everybody is comfortable with such an active sex life.”

With ease he smothers every bit of self-control you have left, thinning out your resolve to stand higher than him. You glower, all the thoughts of failed one-night stands pressing onto your tongue and loosening it faster than you can realize what you’re spitting in front of their feet – one statement powerful enough to change the entire atmosphere into another type of tension:

"I would be if I would get it!" 

“Woah, let’s take it a notch back, shall we, hun?” Bard’s soothing voice could have been directed at each or either one of you two, and you notice how heavy your breathing has become, how much your hands twitch pressed against your breasts, and how Bard’s eyes flicker over where the shirt stretches tighter. 

Interesting…

The hand on Thranduil’s thigh wanders higher, immediately capturing your attention and it's the tanned color of it against ivory white that gets you. The difference in softness and hardness, obvious callouses moving over smooth skin. 

As subtly as possible, you shift your weight to squeeze your thighs together, heightening the throbbing evoked by every inch of skin in front of you. 

Neither Thranduil nor Bard misses it. You can tell it by Bard’s eyes darkening, Thranduil’s smirk widening dangerously and their stance, Thranduil’s arms slinging across Bard’s taut stomach, fiddling with the silky band of his boxers, as well as Bard leaning more right – opening up the way into their dark apartment.

“What if –,” Bard starts, fingers digging into Thranduil’s thigh.

Ice-cold eyes that suddenly burn with hot interest look you over, stopping right where the hem of your shirt exposes your underwear, “You could join us?” 

The offer shuts down your body as soon as your mind comprehends what Thranduil’s lowered, honeyed voice had presented to you and unfortunately, the inquiring “huh?” sounds much more like a whimper than originally planned. This question, this golden opportunity presented on a silver platter is fuel to the aching arousal pooling in your stomach and you can’t deny that, while lying in bed at night, listening to their intimacy, hadn’t evoked that dirty thought in you. 

Flushes of heat spread from your pelvis. You lick over your teeth. 

“What?” you laugh nervously. 

“You’ve heard us right,” Thranduil’s hand stills over the v of Bard’s hips. That he doesn’t move is nearly as taunting as the constant toying, wandering, and scratching he had done till then. 

“Pff as if –,” you stutter stubbornly, even if the pooling of wetness in your underwear betrays you, “as if.. as if I'm gonna waltz into the apartment of two strangers.. two men! You could do whatever to me!”

“Yeah, and you heard exactly what we could bring out of you” 

Their moans and the bed slamming against the wall are pretty good arguments against a case already won in their favor, despite how you’re still trying to grasp for straws.

“My organs when you strip me to the bed and murder me silently?”

“Jeez, you have an imagination woman. Is the stick this far up your ass that –”

“Babe!” Bard’s elbow lands in Thranduil’s side, warningly and soft just like his voice.

“No, let him finish” you glare at Thranduil, “I’d like to know what he thinks about presumed stick in my arse and its results.”

“I think you are prude and underfucked, jealous and so stripped up tightly you won't admit that a good fuck – and honey, I’ll deliver nothing less – would loosen you up,” Thranduil finishes his speech with a tip of his head forward, daring you to talk back and gosh, you wish you had some comeback, anything to prove him wrong, however, the wetness that sticks syrupy between your legs strikes out all other thoughts except:

You want them. You want both of these men.

“So—so what?” you retort, knowing they're right, a pout forming on your lips and a persistent crease of defiance. “That's such a testosterone-driven answer; typical man, thinking their cocks are the miracle cure to a woman’s dry spell.”

Even Bard tuts now, his soft eyes falling to your underwear. “You sure? Hun, you can whine all ‘bout but I can see your cute little panties being all wet – oh come on, don’t blush, I see them alright?” And sure, the material may cling to your cunt and the breeze in the hallway coming from an open window enhances that feeling, but– “Darlin’,” Bard chuckles, “Stop thinking, ‘s not that hard to accept you want it. Come on in, let Thranduil apologize sincerely for his hissy fit.”

You huff. 

Thranduil breathes a kiss toward you, pink lips forming a cute heart, and you only think: “Fuck it.”

Thranduil’s mouth, as he proves a few minutes later, is quite good at apologizing, fantastic even.

You’re spread on your back across their bed – ironically you find out it’s directly above yours –, legs opened up by his large hands, the metal of his rings biting ice-cold into the heated flesh as he kneads his fingers into your thighs and teases you most annoyingly by kissing all around your clit. His arms are wrapped around you in a way that's confining you to lie there and take whatever he decides to give you, or not in some moments.

“Pretty girl –,” Thranduil murmurs into the sensitive and practically vibrating skin, “Should’ve known there’s something sweet about that sour tongue.” His tongue is just as bitter, licking straight through your folds, gathering the absurd amount of wetness and ending shortly before your clit to press a wide opened mouth kiss into you. 

Your hips buck upward in desperation and at the same time exhilaration and Thranduil’s biceps flex to pin you down again; giving you no wiggle room.

“Better lie still,” Bard whispers and tilts your head back by the hand he wraps loosely around your throat. It’s not hard enough to blur your vision, but just hard enough to remind you of the power he holds over you. His fingertips close in together, putting the right amount of pressure on your windpipe for you to gasp for air; then he pounces in and takes over your lips in a heated kiss.

Your behavior, because you do in fact give it your best to stop your legs from crushing the head between your legs, is rewarded by Thranduil with the assistance of his tongue finally flicking over your swollen clit, first playfully then in earnest. He closes his lips around the bundle of nerves, grazing his teeth slightly over it and your head would’ve fallen back if it isn’t for the hand holding you to Bard. “Oh fuck,” you whine and grasp down. 

The second you burrow your hands into Thranduil’s hair, twirling some strands around your fingers for a better hold, he moans into you. Hot air meets the wetness of your pussy and the tips of your nails dig slightly into his hair roots. It turns him on more, that you grind yourself desperately against his face, your hands weaved into his hair to get back control and Thranduil’s tongue swipes over your pussy, diving in to plunge the tip into your entrance. 

“That’s it,” he gasps, sending the words straight through you while he fucks his tongue back into you a few times. Then he switches back to sucking on your clit and doesn’t stop; no matter how your thighs shook and fought to shut close, he stayed on his task of taking you completely into his mouth and rolling his tongue in figure-eights, circling in closer and closer. 

The sounds of Thranduil eating you out are pornographic, slickness from your spit and wetness, his ever-constant breathing and relentless swirls through your pussy that have your back in a wonderful arch. Bard’s lips swallow most of your whimpers up, and when he starts to lick his tongue against yours, teeth playfully tugging on your lower lip, you feel the stars before you see them. 

It starts up fast, heading toward you at full speed and you choke out your orgasm in a broken wail, fingers tightening in Thranduil’s hair. When he doesn’t stop and stimulation becomes overstimulation, your eyes flutter to escape the nearly drunken stare of his gray eyes hidden under long lashes and finally, he slows down. Bard too, leaves your lips in one last, dragged-out kiss that you want to chase after; his mouth is too sweet and gentle, a perfect harmony of caring and hunger.

“All attitude until the attitude drips down her legs and messes up our bedsheets,” Thranduil laughs huskily and wipes the back of his hand over his glistening lips and chin. He puckers his mouth, a wide grin on his face as he crawls up to you. “Now, how do you want this?”

Breathless, you look up to Thranduil and Bard, the latter already moving to shed himself of his boxers. When you see what Bard packs under the tight black underwear a wheezing laugh escapes your throat.

“Yeah,” you scoff at his arched eyebrow, “I would be fucking that multiple times as well.” 

His cock stands heavy against his stomach, thick and bobbing, white precum rolling down the veins. “Like what you see?” Bard teases, one hand wrapped around himself, leisurely stroking up and down. “I’ll let you have a taste if you’re good.”

A large palm spreads over your abdomen and Thranduil slides two fingers down to pinch your still sensitive clit so you yelp and scowl at him. “You won’t be getting any of that tonight,” his voice sounds threateningly possessive, and at the sight of his much taller body towering over yours and that look in his eyes, your stomach flips. “Don’t think I’ll let you hop on there after you disturbed us. Tonight –,” Again, that word that emphasized like he did promises more nights after this, “tonight he’s mine.” The last bit he whispers into your ear, the soft locks of his hair brushing your still-covered chest. 

All that Thranduil had time to undress you for, had been your underwear and those had landed ripped into two somewhere in the darkness of their bedroom. This meant you would have to borrow some of theirs or rush downstairs with your cunt on display and after this should be over, you have no idea if you would even be able to walk. 

Thranduil, by the feeling of his bulge pressing into your stomach, isn’t small either. That cockiness had to have a source somewhere and they don’t call it that for no reason.

Bard’s laughter interrupts the staring contest you two have going on, otherwise you’re not sure how long it would’ve gotten on or who would’ve quit first; not you, he could poke his cock into you however he wants. The other man walks around the bed, heading to the end where Thranduil’s long legs hang off and by the sudden twitch in the body crowding yours into the mattress and the cry Thranduil lets out, you strongly think there has been a tickling involved. 

You laugh as well, the sound dying swiftly when Thranduil turns back to you and grinds his hips into you. All that comes out then, is a straggled whine. 

“Fucking asshole,” you grumble and pull on his hair again, forcing his head down for you to kiss his wet lips. 

Able to taste yourself on his tongue, you greedily open your mouth further, and Thranduil wastes no second to dominate. He takes over the kiss, distracting you just enough that you don’t notice Bard taking off Thranduil’s boxers until the cock against your stomach twitches at a particular noise out of the back of your throat and precum dribbles onto your skin. 

“Someone’s eager,” you tease.

Thranduil promptly bites you in return. “Says the slut moaning under me,” he retorts, scratching his canines across your neck. “Now, take that skimpy shirt off or I’ll rip it like that sad excuse of underwear.” 

You roll your eyes but follow his demand, pulling the tight shirt off and flinging it away. Free for him to touch, Thranduil’s fingers of one hand find your right tit, and, putting the rock-hard pebble in between them, he steals the air out of your lungs pulling and twisting your nipples. “At least, oh fuck you –!” 

Your attempt to speak gets drowned out by a cry of need and suddenly, you’re getting crushed into the mattress by Thranduil’s heavy weight, his fingers still tight around your nipple and his mouth close to your ear. His ass is the only thing not forcing you down. 

Bard, who has been silently chuckling and observing until now, decided the time’s right to move this forward and over the head of blonde hair pushing itself into the crook of your neck, panting hotly and frustrated, you see Bard circling his rim with two fingers. 

“So that’s what shuts you up,” you whisper for Thranduil to hear. 

He lifts his head slightly, though the angry eyebrows fall quickly at another moan.

Behind Thranduil, illuminated by the moonlight outside, Bard looks positively majestic and dominating, his shoulder-length hair free from the ponytail, falling ruffled into his face as he inhales and forcefully spits down to where his fingers are slowly pushing further into the ass presented to him. 

“That’s good, Darlin’,” he praises and Thranduil keens, eyes full of hearts, “Push back a bit, makin’ it easy for me, aren’t you? Go on, sweetheart.” At your gasp – you’re not unaffected by the praise, not at all and if you weren’t coming down from a sensational orgasm that had your clit in flames.. – Bard looks up and winks at you. “Go on. Wonderful, you’re just the best. Look at you, beautiful.” He’s obviously talking to Thranduil but you follow his command despite it; the aura around Bard makes it impossible to do anything less than obey. 

Lying there under these two men, feeling their weight, hearing their moans and the rasps of their deep voices, and being clouded in the smell of sweat, cum, and body odors mixing, is fulfilling fantasies you hadn’t been creative enough to think up.

“Oh – Bard, can you – hah, yes, there –” Thranduil arches into the touch catlike, his back up in the air and the curve of his spine glistening, now that a few drops of sweat are decorating the skin, marked in pink trails of fingernails of a hand that twists slightly and adds another finger. 

Your chest is full of blonde hair, platinum after another inspection, strands perfect to comb your hands through. Thranduil’s lashes flutter beautifully. His lips open up, puffing out airy breaths, pink plush lips coated in spit after he runs his tongue over them. 

Biting down a comment of how he had been right about the ‘shutting up and dicking down’, you act without thinking. The kiss is much slower and sensual than the last, maybe to distract Thranduil from that pain/pleasure that Bard afflicts on him, opening him up four fingers at one time. Soon though, the grind of Thranduil’s hips becomes too much to endure, he already left a wet trail of precum all over you and while you’re still gasping into his mouth, you blindly reach between your bodies. 

“Goddamit,” you grunt, angling your hips slightly, “You’re no help at all.”

“What?” Thranduil groans and everything vibrates, “I’m the one having four fingers up my arse, can’t you just wait a fucking second?” 

“Mhm, no.”

“You’re such a brat,” he leans down, hair fanning over you and trapping you in a bubble where it’s just you, his panting breath and the fire in his eyes; he’s gorgeous. “I’m sorry but –”

“Apology accepted,” you cut him off, smiling sweetly.

A second later you swear you’re being ripped apart; immediately tears spring into your eyes, hiding Thranduil’s satisfied smirk behind a watery curtain as he pushes his cock in further, stretching you past known limits. The only proof that you’re still breathing is the pitchy moan, the whine that follows the stretch of inch after inch.

“Fuuck–” 

It’s going on forever. The rocking of Thranduil’s hips. The slow drill of his cock pushing its way through you, carving a spot into your clenching walls. Surely it’ll come out of your throat. 

You blink fast, regain your vision, and look down.

“Oh my fucking god,” you slap a hand against Thranduil’s shoulder, trying to get a grip on reality, “How are you this big?”

“He’s a mouthful,” Bard pitches in, grinning, and finally reaches a point where he has prepared Thranduil enough. He spits again; once into his hand, which he immediately closes around his cock again, and once between the globes of Thranduil’s ass, watching it trail down. Bard gathers some of Thranduil’s long hair to gently push it over his side. “Are you ready, my love?” he bows down for a soft kiss to the protruding bones of Thranduil’s arched spine.

Ironically, that's what finally gets you and Thranduil on the same page. 

A page that was full of unintelligible curses, punctuated by groans and underlined by hands grabbing for each other. 

Your hand digs itself into Thranduil’s back as he finally bottoms out, buried so deep you can feel him in the back of your throat – or that’s the pressure from that massive cock bullying your insides – and he stills, hipbones digging into you as well as if he hasn’t already marked you up enough with his girth.

Bard reaches forward, thus pushing in faster than Thranduil expects it and your fingers intertwine over the blonde's back. Electricity zips through you, starting from your toes pressing into the sheets, up your shaking thighs to your clenching cunt, and higher up your spine into your head.

Thranduil, fully sandwiched between you, can do nothing except follow the unforgivable rhythm Bard sets. 

The bed creaks as he rocks into you, just when Bard pushes in. The start is messy, lots of “There–” and “Fuck, slower–” until they change it up. 

Thranduil’s breathing is ragged and erratic as he moves against you, his hips pistoning against yours in a steady, firm rhythm. His arms hold you in place, his body covering you completely, lips moving along your neck and shoulder. You, being just on the receiving end, take everything he gives.

“Finally out of complaints, aren’t you?” he angles his hips to thrust harder. “A – ahh – all you needed was a good cock to shut you up.” 

You almost gag on a whine, proving him just right. “No– so-ohh – not true.”

A fleeing look to Bard and you’re silently begging. For what you don’t know. Maybe his support. Maybe to fuck Thranduil hard enough he swallows his words.

“Oh, Thranduil,” Bard starts and you truly think he’ll be on your side,  “If she’s still trying to mouth back you’re doing something – fuck – wrong!”

Thranduil laughs, fucking laughs. Each snap of his hips fills the room with shameless sounds, and as painful as it is to admit, his low baritone causes your pussy to clench tighter, dripping arousal. The fire they started burns higher when he wedges one hand down between your legs, somehow landing on your clit perfectly despite the brutal pace of his and Bard’s thrust. 

“You should’ve come up the first day you heard us,” Thranduil spits out, “Could’ve had this cock making you happy every night. You needed this, right? Someone, to fuck you stupid? Did you lie awake all night and listened to Bard fucking me, fiddling with yourself as if your dumb little fingers could ever come close to this?” His middle finger demonstratingly flicks your clit up.

“Please, oh– please, please,” you sob, the messy circles he’s rubbing with his thumb dumbing you down to a mumbling mess. Pleasure dances in every vein, lights up nerve endings in white-hot fire. 

"Gosh, I think I’m feeling that stick I had been talking about,” Thranduil rasps, pressing his palm against your lower stomach, bringing out another wail, “Oh wait no, that's just me giving you exactly what you needed." 

You’re wringing out his cock, every stroke sends him deeper and deeper, crushing your g-spot, urged on by the slaps of Bard’s balls. He’s taking it slower, staying against Thranduil’s prostate and spreading his hands in the long hair to control when his boyfriend slams into you. 

“C’mon, honey. Be good and come on Thran’s cock, won’t you? He’s so sorry for his bratty behavior but as you can see –” Bard sends his hand down swiftly, shocking you as his palm lands flat on Thranduil’s right cheek with a loud ‘smack’; a scream of pleasure and Bard pats the already reddening skin, “he’s insatiable.” 

That’s what does it for you, in the end. 

Already spiraling toward the edge with Thranduil’s pace and his fingers slipping, rubbing, flicking in all directions, it’s the calmness in Bard that sends you over. The relaxed hold in Thranduil’s hair, how he thrones above you, patiently waiting for his turn because he’s already fucked Thranduil twice tonight – what are another few minutes of watching you slurring their names?

If Thranduil’s cock broke you in half, the orgasm that spikes through you angrily and into every cell splinters whatever’s there to shred. It’s blinding, hot and cold, a wildfire and ice bath. It’s the strongest you’ve cum in a while and your brain shuts down. 

Thranduil groans as you clench around him, but, sensing – or seeing it in your fucked out expression �� that you can’t take anymore, he drags his cock out of you. 

Half conscious your head drops to the side as you try to catch a breath that isn’t sweat and hair. Through blurred eyes, you have a front-row seat to the change in Bard. He swiftly lifts his head once, shaking back his hair and exposing the long column of his throat and the muscles that flex in his shoulder, before he’s sprawled atop Thranduil, grabbing the red and heavy cock wet with your cum and fucks him. 

Raw and unapologetic. 

Fingers pull on Thranduil’s hair, forcing his head back into his neck and Thranduil groans, arching his back closer to Bard. It’s a glorious sight, their hips meeting again and again, Bard’s hand wrapped around Thranduil’s cock, pulling and jacking him off in that same rhythm that Thranduil had rubbed you earlier.

Bard’s panting as well now, grinding more than thrusting and watches himself disappear inside Thranduil. “You feel so good, Thran–” he mumbles, “one more time for me, alrigh’ gorgeous? You did perfectly tonight, taking me three times.”

The praise continues to rain, hailing down like the short and precise twitches of Bard’s hips and when Thranduil hits the bed in a low moan of Bard’s name, coating the bedsheets underneath him white, Bard follows shortly after; buried deep inside his boyfriend.

For a while, the room is filled with efforts to catch your breath. Sweat clings to your body like a second skin, glistening on Thranduil and Bard lying close to each other next to you as well. 

“Oh my god,” you whisper, “the neighbors are gonna hate us.”

[lotusbxtch]

The Best Ride in the Galaxy (one-shot)

Pairing: Poe Dameron x f!Reader

Summary: You have a thing for Poe's flight suit. He decides to be a cocky asshole about it. Sexy shenanigans ensue. Word count: 2k

Warnings: Explicit 18+, MDNI! Mostly porn with a little plot // Established relationship, thigh riding/dry humping, vaginal fingering, swearing, name calling, use of pet names (English and Spanish), dom!Poe, brief light violence (slap to the face), Poe uses a Spanish pet name (bebita) which is probably not canon but idc it's hot, no physical description of reader besides being AFAB and being taller standing than a sitting Poe, Poe makes a corny joke, Poe being a cocky smug asshole comes with its own warning, no use of y/n

a/n: This picture of Oscar & his thick-ass thighs, and @for-a-longlongtime mentioning how Poe-coded it was, inspired this fic in its entirety. A little over 24 hours later and here it is! This is my very first posted fic, so please show it some love, send it to someone who might enjoy it, and feel free to give (constructive) feedback if you wish! If I missed any warning tags, please let me know and I'll add them in. Big big thanks to @for-a-longlongtime for beta-reading and cheering me on, it means the world to me.

You run outside as soon as you hear the X-wings land, your heart in your throat. 

It’s been 7 days, but when he left, Poe promised you it wouldn’t take more than 4 for his small band of rebel fighters to complete the covert mission. Of course he insisted on going with them; he’d been stir-crazy as of late, the endless strategy meetings and arguments amongst leadership boring him to tears. He jumped at the chance to get back into the pilot’s seat. You paced restlessly those last 3 days, imagining the absolute worst had happened to him, with no way of knowing if he was even alive.

So when you rushed out to the tarmac and spotted him climbing out of his X-wing, immense relief flooded your body, followed quickly by a potent swirl of both anger and anxiety. He spotted you, his eyes lighting up, jogging towards you with that brilliant smile.

“Hey good-lookin’,” he crooned as he approached, “didn’t miss me too much, did you?”

What he didn’t expect was for you to slap him straight across his face.

You surprised the both of you - Poe was staring back at you, open-mouthed and silent, a rare occurrence; you were staring at him, anger flashing in your eyes, your palm stinging slightly from the impact.

“Baby, I know you weren’t keen on me leaving,” Poe stammered, “but this seems a tad bit–”

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE FUCKING DEAD, YOU ASSHOLE!” you snapped at him, loudly enough for the people around you to look around for the source of the outburst. “You told me four days, Poe, and it’s now DAY FUCKING SEVEN.” You turned and started storming back to your pod, Poe on your heels.

“Bebita, I told you it was a small team,” Poe tried to explain while keeping up with you. “We hit some hiccups in the plan and had to hide out a bit longer than we thought. If I’d tried to contact you, it would have given away our position. You know how these missions go.”

You angrily punched in the access code to the door of your pod. “Yes, I know, which is exactly why as co-general you’re not supposed to be out in the field putting yourself in harm’s way.” The metal door slid open, and you walked forward, not even looking back at him. “I don’t care if you got bored playing politics, that doesn’t mean you get to go rogue and get back in the cockpit.” Slamming your hand on the button to slide the pod door closed, you finally turned to face Poe since slapping him. You let out a shaky breath as your rage subsided. Your stomach was morphing into a simmering pool of nerves and regret. 

“Look,” Poe said, “I just… getting cooped up on base listening to those talking heads was making me crazy. I miss flying and I saw the opportunity and took it.” You knew what he said was true, but it didn’t make it any easier on you. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you scanned his body for signs of injury, until you realized… he was wearing his flight suit.

Fuck. That damn flight suit always did things to you. Obviously he had to wear it for functionality’s sake, but god, it was almost like he was made to look good in them. His shoulders looked so strong and broad, and the unisex, utilitarian cut of the orange suit somehow did nothing to hide the curve of his ample, round ass, one of your favorite features of his. You felt your mouth water as you drank the sight of him in, arousal slowly kindling in your belly.

That suit was your weakness, and the cocky smile slowly dawning on his face let you know he knew, too.

“I mean,” Poe smirked,  “at least you get to see me in your favorite outfit of mine.” Walking slowly away from you to give you a clear view of his rear, he turned and sunk into the chair in your room. You followed, magnetically drawn to him while simultaneously being flustered that he caught onto your ogling. You crossed your arms and put on your best annoyed face.

“I’m sorry for slapping you, but I’m not sorry for being mad,” you said, pursing your lips and looking away. “And trying to seduce me with your stupid uniform isn’t working.”

It was, in fact, working too well. Your breathing got shallower as you tried to ignore the gentle heat filling your body from your center outwards. Poe’s smirk deepened.

“It’s a good thing you’re not a covert operative because you are the worst at lying,” he said, grabbing your thighs and coaxing you closer to him. You acquiesced, trying and failing to look irritated, the desire plain as day on your face. Poe ran his hands slowly up and down your legs from your hips to your calves. Sliding his palms back and around your ass, he squeezed and your breath hitched. You looked down and those liquid brown eyes were staring up at you, twinkling with mischief. “I know you better than that, sweet thing,” Poe teased. “You absolutely cannot pretend that me wearing this suit doesn’t make you cream your panties.”

You fought to control your traitorous body, breathing slowly through your nose as Poe lifted the hem of your shirt and planted soft kisses on your belly, right above your pants. “Fuck you, you cocky asshole,” you tried to spit viciously, but it came out sounding slightly strangled instead. This Maker-forsaken stupid man and his stupid bubble butt and this stupid suit, you thought, your fingers weaving into the curls on his head. 

Poe’s smile only turned even more predatory, like a cat playing with a mouse. “Oh, I would, baby” he whispered, nipping your torso lightly, “but I haven’t showered in days. How about this instead…”

Suddenly Poe grabbed your hips, pulling you down into his lap and forcing your knees to buckle, your legs on either side of his thick thigh. His right arm wound around your lower back, holding you in place while his left hand snaked up your neck and into your hair. He pulled you in for a slow, soft kiss, which snapped the final tether preventing you from melting for him like he knew you wanted to. You surged forward, kissing him deeply, licking into his mouth and tasting the minty aftertaste of the gum he always chews while piloting. He groans, biting your lower lip, then sliding his tongue along yours. This draws your first moans out from somewhere deep in your chest, and his eyes quickly darken when you begin grinding on his thigh.

“Oh, you like that,” Poe crooned, lips turning up into a smirk. “So fucking eager for me. So desperate to cum.”

“Fuck you, Maker-damn it,” you pant, burying your face into his neck, the smell of sweat, jet fuel, and him invading your senses. “This stupid suit is going to be the death of me.”

Poe smiles wickedly. “Why don’t you take a ride on the best pilot in the galaxy before you die, then, honey?” he purrs into your ear. You roll your eyes at his cheesy line until you feel him flex the thigh you’re straddling, creating the most delicious friction against your clothed core. You let out a breathy moan and clench your own thighs around his, starting to rock your clit against his ridge of muscle through your clothes. Slick starts dripping out of you with each roll of your hips against him. Poe moves your arms to brace on his shoulders, then slides both of his hands onto your hips to help you ride him.

The pleasure in your core starts to ratchet up, and you grind yourself harder into Poe’s thigh, throwing your head back with a moan. Poe leans to your ear, kissing and lightly licking just behind and below your earlobe, that spot he knows drives you wild. “That’s it, baby, ride it out,” he whispers into your ear. “Use all that frustration to make yourself cum on my leg.” You mewl, circling your hips and chasing your high. Your pussy contracts around nothing, and suddenly all you can think about is how much better it would feel if Poe was inside of you.

“Poe,” you whine, “I need more.” Your slick is soaking through your underwear, the smell of your arousal filling Poe’s senses. He groans, his cock painfully hard in his flight suit.

“What do you need, bebita?” he says, kissing your forehead sweetly while gripping your hips like a vice, a contrast that has you moaning wordlessly. “Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”

“I need you,” you beg, “I need you inside of me, I need you to fuck me, please.” You can feel your clit throbbing, almost painfully. Poe moans into your neck. “Baby, I told you, you do not want me to unzip this suit,” he chuckles. “But I think I can still help. Lean back a little.” You comply, and watch with glazed eyes as Poe stares right back at you, slipping his middle and ring fingers into his mouth to get them wet. A shudder rips through your body when he slips both digits past the waistband of your pants and into your underwear. He groans loudly when he feels your slick folds.

“Fuuuuck me, baby, you’re absolutely drenched,” he breaths out. “Is this all for this dumb orange jumpsuit I’m wearing?” That cocky smirk reappears as he laughs at his own joke.

Letting out an annoyed breath, you huff, “it’s for you, idiot. You fucking drive me crazy. You’re the only one that’s ever gotten me this wet. Now fill me up before I lose my ever-loving mind.” 

Poe lets out another chuckle. “Yes, ma’am,” he quips, and then quickly slides the length of his fingers into your cunt, forcing a moan from your lungs involuntarily. He rocks you forward again so that you’re sitting directly on his fingers, with his palm cradling your pussy. “Fuck yourself on my fingers,” he commands. “Take what you need from me.”

You do exactly that, rising and falling on his thigh, swirling your hips over his soaked digits, your clit rubbing against the meat of his palm deliciously. He adds another finger, stretching you out and making you want to scream. Your hips speed up as you desperately chase your high. The wet squelching and slapping sounds of your pussy on Poe’s hand echo in the room. Poe’s panting fills your ears and your wanton moans fill his. You invade his senses in every way possible, and he can feel his dick pulse with every thrust of your hips against his thigh.

Suddenly, you start feeling the knot in your core tighten as you rocket ever-closer to your orgasm. Poe moans as he feels you clench. “Fuck, that’s it, honey, I can feel you getting close,” he whispers. “Give it to me.” His hips start lifting up, grinding, pressing his length into you as much as he can.

“Oh Maker, Poe, oh fuck,” you cry as your walls tighten. “You want me to fucking cum for you?”

“Fuuuuuuck yes baby, that’s all I want,” Poe pants. “Fucking cum all over my fingers, soak my hand, honey.”

The filth pouring out of his mouth finally snaps the knot in your stomach, and you nearly scream in ecstasy as your release shatters and blooms through your body. Poe moans your name as a rush of your slick coats his hand, and you feel him bite your shoulder as his body tenses. Sated, you slump against him, his hand still pinned under your body, both of you sticky with sweat and panting for breath. Poe uses his free hand to softly cup the side of your face, pressing kisses slowly and gently across your cheeks and nose.

You sigh as he carefully extracts his hand. Just as you peer down at him, he closes his eyes and slips his fingers into his mouth, sucking every bit of your essence off. You shudder in pleasure as you watch him. He locks eyes with you, and you lean in to kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips.

“Feeling better?” Poe asks, the warm molten brown of his eyes having returned. You sigh and giggle a little. “Yes, thank you,” you murmur quietly, “but I wish I could have made you cum too.” 

Suddenly Poe looks sheepish, something that’s a rare expression for him.

“Well, uh…” he starts, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck and averting his eyes. You pause, perplexed. He glances back at you, then down at the floor, and then back at you again. Poe clears his throat before he finally speaks.

 “I… actually did…”

You freeze silently, and then erupt into laughter. “Poe Dameron!” you screech. “The ‘best pilot in the galaxy’, commander of the Starfighter Corps, co-general of the entire fucking Resistance, fucking JIZZED in his pants like a teenager???” You start tittering uncontrollably, much to Poe’s embarrassment. “Shut the fuck up, idiot,” he grouses, which only makes you cackle even louder. He sighs, annoyed but begrudgingly satisfied.

“At least this suit needs to be washed anyway,” he mutters, mostly to himself, and you laugh so hard you start crying.

Tag list (it's here y'all!): @for-a-longlongtime @nerdieforpedro @lu62 @purelyoscar @clemdango04 @survivingandenduring @reggiesfilthylittlesecret @beezusvreeland @alltheglitterandtheroar @campingwiththecharmings @qveerthe0ry @agentjackdaniels @dizthemonster @beezusvreeland @queerponcho and anyone else who was interested!

EDIT:

Oh, you were looking for a part 2 to this one-shot? Well it’s your lucky day — Poe was being a total menace, so indeed there is now a part 2!

[slytherinshua]

PET NAMES/NICKNAMES TWS CALL YOU

genre. fluff. headcanons. warnings. none. pairing. tws x fem!reader. wc. 548. request. request by anon: for tws pet names/nicknames they give you. a/n. this was so fast to do cause i literally had ideas for all the members immediately omg <33 it's such a cute thing to think abt too :(

shinyu will call you ‘sweetheart’ most of the time. he says it in the most romantic way every time and it makes you absolutely fold. he could literally be asking you to pass the salt and you would get butterflies because he would ask so gently and romantically. he’s too romantic for his own good to be honest. he never told you this but when you just started dating, he tried to think of the most romantic pet name to call you and settled for sweetheart. probably researched it and everything.

dohoon loves to call you ‘baby’. it’s classic and it’s cute. he also likes how it’s pretty lowkey and he can use it to address you whenever. it doesn’t have to be reserved for a romantic date or anything. he might use ‘babe’ as well sometimes if he’s in a rush or asking you a question, just whatever rolls off the tongue easier. on dates, though, he’ll call you ‘my love’ or ‘princess’ when he wants to be more romantic.

youngjae calls you ‘angel’ or ‘love’ because you are his angel, you’re so perfect in his eyes. he likes gentle pet names or any that are just soft and romantic. he has the softest and sweetest voice ever that whenever you hear him call you his angel, you fall 10 times more in love with him. he treats you like you literally hung the stars in the sky. maybe cause he’s so teased in tws and you don’t tease him that often but he definitely gives you special treatment, including the pet names.

hanjin would call you 亲亲 (qīn qīn, dear one) or 宝贝 (bǎo bèi, baby/love). it’s so cute cause 亲亲 also means ‘kiss’ so he would ask for a kiss while calling you that. he melts if you call him that back. even more so if you use something like 甜心 (tiánxīn, sweetheart) or any cute chinese nickname. he loves pet names so much, he’s always thinking of new ones to call you in different languages as well. he always asks you which ones you like the most as well, so you both have a say.

jihoon likes food nicknames a lot. something like ‘peaches’ or ‘sugar plum’. he thinks it’s funny and also really cute. maybe he jokes about biting you a bit too often… and sometimes he does actually bite you which only adds to the joke that you are food to him lol. if you’re shorter than him, he’ll call you ‘shortcake’ there’s just absolutely no escaping it. even if you’re only shorter by 1 cm. he’s one of the shorter tws members so he takes what he can get.

kyungmin would call you a nickname or shortened version of your name rather than a pet name. he’s tried pet names with you and most of them just don't sound right. the only one he does use is 자기야 (jagiya, baby) but it's not that often. whatever nickname he gave you feels more special and unique so he likes it more than any pet name. the nickname is reserved for just kyungmin’s use and if anyone else dares to use it to address you, he’ll fight them (more like get super pouty and complain to you about it later but shhh).

↳ tws taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @seunghancore,, @sobun1est,, @talkingsaxy,, @talking-saxy

[seekforwarmth]

hello and welcome to the june fic rec featuring my favourite works i read during the past weeks. as always, please check tags before reading. if you liked the fics please reblog their posts, leave kudos and write a nice comment. happy reading! (and happy pride month!) rec tag | more rec lists

— harry/louis —  

໑ Don’t Embarrass Me, Motherfucker by @allwaswell16 (T, 1.4k, established relationship, time stamp, professor harry, pets) Harry comes home from work to find Louis and their parrot are up to something.

A Darcy the Parrot time stamp

໑ All My Life by wanderlou (NR, 5k, established relationship, marriage proposal, humour) The four times Harry tries to propose and the one time he gets it right (or does he?)

໑ Take My Hand, Dumbass by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup (G, 6k, enemies to lovers, a/b/o college au, roommates, touch depri) There's only alpha dorms at university, and Louis Tomlinson, omega, refuses to pay the exorbitant fees to live off campus. So, four years pretending to be an alpha it is! That'll be easy.

And maybe it would be easy, if not for the depri and the annoying alpha roommate and the fact that Louis is, honestly, a bit too stubborn for his own good.

໑ Little Love by GoldenSunflouervol6 (NR, 8.7k, friends to lovers, a/b/o au, fbi, homelessness) Written for the Omegaverse fic fest for prompt: 205. L & H are FBI/CIA/MI6/whatever agents and best friends. L goes on a mission without H (they’re partners, so they usually go together) and he doesn’t return. 2 yrs later he returns to the agency after escaping from wherever he was (maybe he was kidnapped, experimented on, etc., can be up to the author!). H tries to get L to talk about why he was gone/what he went through, but L isn’t ready. They continue to go on missions, but L is falling apart. Maybe he’s having nightmares, flashbacks, etc. Whoever held L captive ends up finding him again and takes him back. He either escapes again or H finds him. The author can obviously add stuff! This is more like an outline, maybe? Preferably omega L & alpha H, but ultimately up to author. Would love to see the other boys in it too, but that’s up to the author as well! [possessive & jealous h, sassy & tough l] L can be feminized, but preferably not too much.

໑ the past might be painful, but i’m in love with our future by localopa / @voulezloux (T, 10k, established relationship, pride, time stamp) it takes a lot of convincing for louis to let harry take him to his first pride. harry understands his worries and fears. really, he does. he just wants to show his boyfriend that he doesn’t have to be alone anymore.

a don’t be afraid to love (and love again) time stamp.

໑ Louis and the Very Terrible, No Good Sleep by Stria / @nooradeservedbetter (E, 10k, roommates, a/b/o au, insomnia, 5+1 things) Louis had always been used to sleeping in a puppy pile back home. It was something that just happened, with all of his siblings being omegas, they just ended up in a giant nest all together, and Louis loved to cuddle in the warmth, and breathe in the familiar scent of home. He hadn’t thought much about it when, after graduating from the local uni, he got a job offer in Brighton and had to leave the family den.

Or, Louis is insomniac. Follow him in his quest to fall asleep.

໑ You Just Be Yourself by @lululawrence (NR, 13k, strangers to lovers, a/b/o au, kid fic, 5+1 things) “Thanks, Mom.”

Louis’ breath was knocked right out of him at those words, and Grey froze. They then immediately pulled out of Louis’ arms and scurried out of sight before either Harry or Louis could respond.

“Shit,” Harry cursed quietly, looking between Louis and where Grey had disappeared.

“I…” Louis blinked and looked down at the boxes still scattered on the floor. By the time he had gathered them back up, Harry was also gone.

Or five times Harry's daughter claims Louis as her mother, and one time Louis claims them both as his too.

໑ back where we belong by Ashisinlove (NR, 15k, exes to lovers, a/b/o au, college/university au, lack of communication, omega drop, read tags and author’s note) an exes to lover university!au where louis did not know how to express his concern in the relationship and harry did not know his omega was feeling this way.

໑ Ugly love by Hazzaslittle28 (E, 16k, kind of established relationship, governor harry, prostitute louis, accidental pregnancy) And Louis knew one thing as he stares at the dark sky and trees, the town moving away from his vision that he's never going to let his child feel the betrayal and hurt and all the hardships he went through.

He's going to give his baby enough love to fill the absence of her father. The ring in his fingers burn, there was rage inside Louis but most of all resided a boy who was still in denial that one day, one day his love would return back to him. Hold him and they'll stay happy as ever.

Or

The 1860s Au where Louis is a prostitute and Harry's a governor, they both are in love until they aren't.

໑ frightened by the bite, no harsher than the bark by localopa / @voulezloux (T, 21.6k, strangers to lovers, a/b/o au, rockstar louis, bodyguard harry, touch deprivation) louis loves going to the barricade during his shows. if it’s because he’s got a bit (lot) of touch deprivation and is using it as an excuse to have his big alpha bodyguard, harry, touch him, well, that’s a secret he doesn’t need to tell.

໑ Scarred by @allwaswell16 (E, 23k, enemies to lovers, soulmates, a/b/o au, sick fic, touch deprivation, soul bond, scars, read tags) As a male omega, Louis has learned to live with disappointment and rejection, but he dreams of the day he finds his soulmate. When Harry inadvertently rejects him as his soulmate, Harry has no idea he's doomed Louis to a slow, painful death.

Pride doesn't keep Louis from telling Harry the truth. But love does.

— rare pairs —

໑ It's You by @allwaswell16 (louis/louis, T, 2.7k, a/b/o university au, clones, 5+1 things) Five times alpha Louis talks to omega Lou and one time he admits he wants more from his omega clone

໑ The Tiniest Moves by @allwaswell16 (louis/nick grimshaw, T, 1.5k, getting together, famous/non famous au) Coffee shop owner Nick Grimshaw may or may not have come to work on his day off in the hopes that fresh-off-his-world-tour Louis Tomlinson might stop by.

[chuuyasheaven]

“Cockwarminʼ Cuddles”— Atsushi Nakajima

“Working at the agency has the both of you exhausted, mentally and physically. After another stressful day, you and Atsushi wanted to cuddle— nothing more. But during the session, you both realized you were yearning for each other, so you came up with another idea.”

Tags: soft! Atsushi Nakajima / afab! Reader, soft sex, lazy sex, pet names, praising kink, cockwarming, cuddling, ADA! Reader, pw/op, might contain grammar errors, lazy, rushed, SHORT, etc.

Notes: I'M SO SORRY GUYS I GOT SICKKK. I know there's like two fics/drabbles lacking, but I'll be catching up, i swear! First, let me try and finish this week. Also school started again, and since this is my last and important year i might fall behind the schedule.. But let's continue!! XD

Finally, the day was over and you both could relax. Since last week, the agency has picked up a lot of missions, which were stressing the both of you out. Opon coming home, Atsushi only wanted to hold you in his arms, and so did you. But when you actually got to lay down, getting really close to him and all, you could tell that Atsushi wanted more than just cuddle. Realizing that you guys didn't do anything sexual since last week. You really wanted to do something, but at the same time, you didn't, so you guys came up with a small adjustment.

Right now, your head was resting on his chest, while Atsushi's cock rested inside of you, cockwarming him. Even though you really wanted to move, you didn't. This was relaxing to you to just lay there without doing anything. Hell, you literally could've fallen asleep with how chill this was. But Atsushi, he was slightly struggling with this. He wanted to move desperately, but he needed to relax. "Does it. . feel good?", he asked you quietly, you nodded. You moved a little to adjust yourself to your liking, only to feel Atsushi twitch inside you. "S–shit. .", he hissed, this was torturous but also felt good as hell. He was resisting to but even so, he could be cumiming without doing so. Atsushi was trying to hold it in, but you felt him already leaking. Now you had the urge to move your hips to feel him cum.

Suddenly, Atsushi held your waist, moving you himself. This made you moan in surprise as he continued, slowly finding a rhythm. You were really close despite him just getting started. “A–atsushi. .”, you whimpered quietly, Atsushi was just breathing heavily. Soon enough, you reached your climax. You tried to calm down, but Atsushi kept going, holding your leg in his hand and thrusting into your cunt. All this time you guys never switched the position. “Good girl,”, he choked out, feeling his first orgasm get closer, while you were close to your second.

“You feel so good around me, darling. .”, he huffed, you kept on moaning while praise was falling off Atsushi's lips, those same lips which were kissing you right now. Slightly speeding up, your second climax was approaching faster. “I–i'm close,”, you gasped, as Atsushi rocked his hips against yours. “I love you, baby.”, he whispered when he finally came inside of you. “Me too,”, You responded while gushing around his cock for a second time. “I love you so much, Atsu.”, you finished off, calming down from your orgasm.

“—Do you wanna keep going or do you want to keep cuddling?”

this is so cringe and embarrassing, so i will add my taglist later on. Besides, CHUUYA WILL BE HOME SOON !!

[stars-and-inkpots]

hey! could you write a little something based on our wizards fav line "if I don't get my beauty sleep soon, i might get just a tad malcontent" - tired cranky wizard ftw! 🤣

absolutely i can! (i hear this line a lot given my tendency to do absolutely everything i can before long resting even though i very much do not need to) thank you for this idea! hope you enjoy!

Beauty Sleep | Gale x Reader

You forget that not everyone is used to so much travelling in one day. Gale is more than eager to remind you that some people would very much enjoy some rest, and soon.

Pairing: Gale/Reader

Tags: Cuddling, fluff

Word Count: 583

All things considered, Gale did try to keep his complaints to a minimum. He understood that things had to get done, and that you had to make the most of the day’s limited hours. It was, however, becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the exhaustion that was steadily consuming him. 

“We should rest these weary bones of ours soon,” Gale says to you as you walk. The rest of the group has started to slow, but the sun is still high enough in the sky that it would be too early yet to retire for the night. 

“Soon enough,” you answer. You can hear Gale’s disappointed huff, but he says nothing more. You continue on. The day has mostly been mapping out the forest, gathering supplies and clearing the path for tomorrow when you planned to move camp. It’s given you little trouble, only a few gnolls to be dealt with which was only a minor inconvenience at best. 

“We should rest soon. It’s hard to save the world while you’re stifling yawns,” Gale speaks up again after another hour. This time, the group seems to share his opinion, though none of them voice this. 

“We’ll return to camp soon. I want to explore just a little further; it will make the trip tomorrow easier.” You watch as Gale, clearly disappointed with this answer, sighs but continues to walk beside you. He trusts your judgement, and knows that you have the group's best interest at heart. “I promise we’ll return soon, my love,” you say quietly. The pet name eases the ire that grows with the pain in his knees. 

The sun has well begun its journey towards the horizon by the time Gale speaks up again. His patience, as boundless as it is, is truly beginning to wane. 

“If I don’t get my beauty sleep soon, I might just get a tad malcontent.” His tone is short and clipped, exhaustion leaving him increasingly irate. 

You smile despite yourself; as bad as you feel for the clear discomfort of the wizard, his use of the phrase ‘beauty sleep,’ you must admit, is a little funny. “Yes, I’m sorry. I lost track of time.” You look back at the others. “That’s enough for today, let’s head back.” You turn back to Gale to add, much quieter, “I am sorry, truly. I forget that others aren’t used to travelling this much in a day. Could I make it up to you with a cuddle later? Unless you don’t wish me to interrupt your ‘beauty sleep,’ that is.” He knows you’re teasing him a little, but he’s inclined to let it slide when he notices the genuine care in your words. 

“I suppose I could accept such an apology. My rest could wait just a little longer, perhaps.” 

You’re relieved to see his smile return as you walk back to camp. 

You keep your word. Once everyone has eaten and gone to their respective tents, you meet Gale in his. 

Looking just as comfortable as he always does, Gale is waiting on his bedroll, already underneath the several blankets. When he sees you, he’s quick to pull them back to make room for you to fit yourself in beside him. You wrap your arms around him, and within minutes his breathing has evened out and you can hear the faint snores that let you know he’s found sleep. You press a quick kiss to the top of his head, then let yourself drift into unconsciousness as well.

[cilil]

Something neat about... Nimloth

Nimloth is a character I've recently been diving into due to a certain ongoing project and suffice it to say, I'm once again having a blast latching on to details and expanding on them.

To me, the fact that Nimloth died alongside Dior instead of being with the refugees or taken captive (like other female characters in similar situations) indicates that she was actually fighting by his side during the Second Kinslaying. That is not to be like "not like other girls" or put any of the other female characters down - hell, I know I'd be running - but I just like the idea that she was by no means a damsel in distress and instead a fierce queen who was actively refusing any attempts to send her away or get her to safety.

And damn, do I have ideas for the details of that showdown! Unfortunately, those might be spoilers for Dead Heart or any related fics/bonus chapters that may come after so... heh. Later ;)

Suffice it to say for now, Nimloth is an icon for this and I adore having her and Dior as one of Doriath's power couples.

 ˚ ੈ✧̣̇·˖ 　˚ .　　　✶ ˚　　✦　. 　 ˚　.　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　.  ˚　

Thank you to @laisrinel for suggesting Nimloth!

~

“Something Neat About” (SNA) is a mini series on my blog where I say something I like/find cool/interesting/neat about various Tolkien (right now mostly Silmarillion) characters. 

Please feel free to add your own thoughts/ideas/headcanons about the character in the comments/tags, link fanworks you or others made, show pictures of your pet you named after them, whatever you want to share; my only request is to keep it positive.

More of SNA for your perusal here. You’re also welcome to message me/send asks about characters you’d like to hear about :)

[damn-stark]

Chapter 4 This charming man

Tragedy at the Miller’s Chapter 4

A/N- Not ready for what’s coming

Warning- ANGST, talks of death, swearing, long chapter, fluff :)

Pairing- Joel Miller x daughter!reader, Henry x Fem!reader

Episode- 1x06 (not all of it)

(If you want to be tagged let me know!)

————

Family reunions are supposed to be heartwarming, joyful!

Maybe it was for the first 10 minutes, but now it’s awkward, there’s tension, there’d be deafening silence but the area you’re at is filled with the sound of obnoxious chewing. It’s an annoying sound, a usual pet peeve of yours, but right now, fuck it, it’s the first real meal you’ve had in two years.

“There’s more if you need it,” Maria interjects through the urgency of all the chewing.

“Thank you, ma’am,” your dad says when he finishes chewing. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a proper meal.”

You smile up at her with your mouth full of food and nod in agreement. Your uncle Tommy notices and shakes his head in disapproval, but he can’t help but smile faintly.

“Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever had a proper meal,” Ellie cuts in, causing you to slowly swallow your food and look at her with a bit of pity—“this is fuckin’ amazing.”

Your dad shoots her a pointed glare before looking up at the couple in front of him. “Sorry,” he apologizes for her, while you stifle your laugh with the food you shove in your mouth. “Ellie, let’s mind our manners.”

You smirk down at your food, but feel your uncle pat your back. “Don’t worry,” he adds. “Someone tends to have a way with words too.”

You look over at him and respond back with your mouth full of food. “I’m just expressin’ my freedom of speech.” You shoot him a smile and then return to eating, bringing back a bit of silence.

Albeit seconds later the peace is broken by Ellie snapping at someone behind you. “What?!”

You slowly peek behind you and see a girl storming off; you actually recognize her, albeit she was younger then. She liked to help with your sets when you did plays, she’s cool. But yes you understand Ellie’s…caution towards her just staring, but! you don’t get the snappy attitude.

“What’s wrong with you?” You remark Ellie with a pointed look.

“What about her manners?” She counters.

You roll your eyes and catch your uncle's curious gaze at that moment, so you can’t help but smirk faintly now in response—he’ll get hell of a kick out of her, he just needs to get to know her.

“She was just curious,” Maria tries to explain. “Kids around here don’t usually look or talk like you.”

“Right.” Ellie nods. “Well, maybe I’ll teach them. And I want my gun back.”

Yeah that’s not happening.

“They also aren’t armed,” Maria says.

You set your silverware down and grab your cup of water, whilst your uncle interjects. “You know what? Uh, I think maybe y’all got a little off on the wrong foot.”

“She was gonna have her guys kill us,” Ellie snaps right away.

“Well, we gotta be real careful about who we let in this place,” your uncle explains. “But it’s all bark. We’re just tryna scare off those who might wanna try us is all.”

You sit back and sip your water, only choosing to hear the argument being had.

You wouldn't be as…uhm…bold as Ellie, but you also understand her uneasiness of this place and all those people. You were new once too; afraid of everyone and cautious of everything.

“Well, you got a couple of 90-year-olds shitting themselves out there. Not much of a superstition, is it y/n?” She argues with a pointed glare aimed at you.

What? What the hell did you do?

“Ellie,” your dad warns her.

“They say that you leave dead bodies around?” Ellie remarks to your uncle and Maria again.

Now your uncle glances at you and passes an amused look at you right as Maria answers Ellie just as quickly. “Those are the people that tried us.”

“A bad reputation doesn't mean you’re bad,” your uncle adds.

“Not always, at least,” Maria adds in, and you catch her pointed look aimed at your father; which only makes you begin to frown as things get awkward. At least for you since you know the context behind her judgment.

“Ma’am,” your dad cuts in thereafter. “We’re grateful for your hospitality and all,” he pauses and looks between you, your uncle and Ellie. “But it’d be nice to have a moment here, maybe just for family.”

Oh right, given your silent treatment, you never actually talked much about this place or about your life here to him—that makes things uncomfortable. So you slouch and put your cup down to stare at the water.

“Well, uh,” your uncle interjects as he straightens up on his chair. “Maria is family, actually.”

You glance over at them and offer them a soft smile, but when you glance over at your father and see his face of slight disbelief your smile falters.

Why does he look so shocked? It was going to happen.

“Oh, shit! Congrats.” Ellie adds, but you can’t tell if she’s being sarcastic or genuine—probably sarcastic giving she’s not really liking Maria.

“Joel, say congrats,” Ellie whispers to your dad like if he’s some kid that needs a reminder.

A moment of awkward silence passes before your dad says it back a bit dryly. “Congrats.”

Can’t say you’re surprised, he didn’t like Henry at first either.

“She’s the one that helped me get this one through her teenage phase,” your uncle says and pats your shoulder to give it a small squeeze.

You look up at the both of them and smirk before glancing at your dad.

“I can’t say she made it hard,” Maria adds. “She was good…up until she left.”

You scoff and look over at her with a smirk. “Mama,” you whisper. “Besides, I wasn't a teenager then, I was 22.”

“You acted like one,” she rebuttals.

You roll your eyes in a lighthearted manner and shake your head, while your uncle grabs your shoulder and interjects with a lighthearted tone. “How old are you now, Sunny? Old?”

You snap your eyes to him and get ready to spat back, but he continues. “You even have gray hair there.” He points to the side of your head.

Your eyes go wide and you pick up your spoon to see your reflection through it, but he begins to snicker.

“Oh wait, it's just dirt.” He laughs.

You scoff and push his arm off you. “At least I can wash mine off, unlike you,” you counter and use your eyes to point to the white hairs on his side.

He snickers and you glance away, catching your dads gaze and slowly frowning as you catch that same hurt look you caught earlier. Your uncle Tommy notices a glimpse of your tension and sighs before breaking it. “How ‘bout a tour?”

Maria nods. “Yeah.”

Once you’re all completely done with your food you step out again. And you're not obligated to tag along, you knew this place already, it was home, but you want to accompany Ellie until she and your dad get some place to go for however long they’re staying—or correction for however long she’s staying, who knows if your dad has changed his mind about letting your uncle take her.

If he doesn’t then….you’ll go with her and your uncle. Even if being surrounded by the tall walls of Jackson made you finally feel completely safe, and let you drop the habit of needing to look over your shoulder every few seconds. Here you also didn’t have to live on the edge hoping that some infected wouldn’t creep up on you, or some fucker wouldn’t jump you out of nowhere. But if it meant being her one piece of support after your fathers abandonment, then it would be worth it being gone for one more month. Just for her, not for your dad.

“We settled here about seven years ago, just a handful of us then,” Maria tells Ellie and your dad. “That section…”

Her words trail off as suddenly you’re startled by an arm thrown around you. And when you snap your head over to your side, Apollo is next to you with a smile on his face.

“What’s wrong with you?” You quip as you fall behind the others doing the tour.

Apollo snickers. “Just checking you’re not some sort of hallucination.”

You roll your eyes and look ahead again. “I’d be a pretty cool hallucination,” you mumble and catch Ellie glancing at you over her shoulder when she doesn’t see you near her.

“Yeah,” Apollo agrees. “Good thing you aren't though.” He moves his other hand toward you to offer you a piece of dry meat. “Jerky?”

“Please,” you scoff and meet his gaze from the corner of your eyes. “I’ve had enough of jerky for now.” You then begin to smirk and hold his gaze as you throw him a reminder. “Aren't you supposed to be working bum?”

Apollo shrugs. “I was, but again, just checking on you, and…” he trails off and holds the piece of jerky in his mouth to reach into his back pocket and pull something out. “…give this to you.”

He pushes his hand towards you to show the Mariah Carey Daydream casette in his hand. “For you,” he says as he pulls out the piece of jerky from his mouth.

Your grin immediately widens and your eyes twinkle as you stop to take it from him. “Oh my god,” you squeal. “Where did you find this?!”

Apollo steps back and folds his arms over his chest to shrug smugly. “I have my ways. But I thought of giving it to you for Christmas when I saw you, but then I thought, why not give it to her now as a welcome home present.”

You meet his gaze with a smirk. “You were thinkin’ of me?” You tease.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” He quips lightheartedly.

You shoot him a smirk, and he holds your gaze to mirror the gesture for a lingering moment before you look down at your gift and smile softly. Albeit, you then can’t help but step forward to throw your arms around him.

“Thank you,” you whisper and hold onto him tighter, feeling your heart flutter, and a warmth that wants to mend the bleeding gap that was on it.

“You’re welcome,” he whispers back and rubs your back softly. “I missed you, you know.”

You smile sweetly and try to fight the tears that threaten to rush out at the simple feeling of this embrace. “I missed you too,” you redirect softly, but suddenly begin to feel a twinge of guilt now stab at you as you feel comfort and yearning for him in his embrace.

“Mia is at home,” Apollo says and pulls back to face you. “I haven’t told her yet so it can be a surprise.”

You smirk. “I’ll make her shit her pants.” You snicker.

“I’ll see you at home later, yeah?” He queries in a way that makes it seem like he’s almost afraid you would leave again. “I have a bottle of tequila and a movie of your choice ready for you for later.”

“Can’t wait,” you assure him with a sweet smile playing on your lips.

Apollo begins to walk back and nods as he holds your gaze for a lingering moment before he turns and walks off to go back to work. You now put your gift away and catch back up with your group heading to the barn.

“Who’s that?” Ellie immediately asks once you’re by her side again.

You glance at her and scoff softly before you answer. “My…best friend, Apollo.”

Ellie scoffs and begins to smirk as she turns her head away. “Okay,” she mutters.

You squint your eyes in confusion and immediately press her hint of smugness. “What?” You giggle nervously.

Ellie shrugs before she glances at you and bats her eyelashes as she just simply repeats herself. “Okay.”

Before you can further question her she runs ahead of the group as they’re entering the sheep pen.

“Hey, Joel, check it,” Ellie now directs to your dad, and proceeds to mimic the sheep to tease him. You would’ve laughed but she was just teasing you so you keep quiet and follow them.

“So are you, like, in charge?” Ellie asks Maria.

“No one person’s in charge,” Maria says. “I’m on the council. Democratically elected, serving 300 people, including children. Everyone pitches in. We rotate patrols, food prep, repairs, hunting, harvesting.”

“Everything you see in our town,” your uncle adds. “Greenhouses, livestock, all shared. Collective ownership.”

“So, uh,” your dad interjects, making you glance at him. “Communism.”

Your uncle sniffles. “Nah. Nah, it ain’t like that.”

No it is that. Exactly that.

“It is that,” Maria corrects him. “Literally. This is a commune. We’re communists.”

You smirk, and end up sharing an amused look with your dad before you both glance back at your uncle stopped behind you looking a bit baffled.

“No way!” Ellie exclaims, making you drift your attention back to her and noticing her rushing toward a cute brown foal.

“That’s our newest one,” Maria shares. “Couple months old. You wanna pet her?”

You smile and rush towards the foal too.

“Yeah, what’s her name?” Ellie asks.

“Shimmer.”

“Shimmer,” Ellie repeats as she begins to caress the little baby horse. “You’re so beautiful.”

You lean against the gate and scratch the side of her jaw.

“Well, I’m sure they’d like a shower,” Maria adds on, correctly of course. “Some new clothes. We can put Joel and Ellie in the empty house across the street from us.”

You pull your hand away from the horse and peer over your shoulder.

“Yeah,” your uncle agrees. “It’s a decent place. Pretty much untouched since ‘03, but it’s got the heat goin’ in it.” He nods. “Could do worse.”

“Oh,” you add. “We have been.”

Ellie nods in agreement, but your dad quickly rebuttals you. “We’ve been doin’ fine.”

Yeah cause sleeping in caves and taking watches to make sure you won’t get killed is fine. Whatever man.

“Well,” Maria adds a bit awkwardly. “I’ll take Ellie over there if you two wanna catch up?” She suggests as she looks between your dad and uncle, making you look between both men with curiosity.

Only if you could go too just to snoop and know if your dad would go through with it. And to know how it’d actually go between them.

“Yeah,” your dad agrees and passes a look with your uncle. “Okay.”

“Joel,” Ellie whispers with concern.

“You’ll be fine,” he assures her and walks off with your uncle without another word, making her watch him as he did so.

“Come on,” you encourage her and grab her shoulder to gently nudge her ahead towards Maria

Ellie begins to follow, but spares one more glance at your dads retreating figure. Once he’s no longer in view she immediately questions you. “Where are you going?”

“Not far from where you’ll be,” you assure her. “Just down 2 streets, and then a right. I live in a yellow house with a white fence around it. I’ll be there.”

Ellie glances at the ground and frowns deeper, so you nudge her gently and continue to assure her. “You can come over after you’re done showering, if you want. If I don’t answer the door my friend Mia will, just tell her you came to visit me and she’ll show you to my room, yeah?”

Ellie lifts her gaze with unsureness but nods regardless to assure you she comprehends. “Yeah,” she whispers. “Okay.”

Once you see Ellie off you walk to your own house. A place you always hoped you’d return to, a place you longed for on cruel days. Yet when you’re there, past the white fences gate, at the doorstep of your house, it feels…fucking weird. Like some dream. A good dream you were scared to wake up from.

What if opening the front meant waking up? That’d be terrible.

But you can’t know if you stand there, so you let out a deep breath and slowly wrap your hand around the knob. You hesitate for a second and close your eyes to hope it isn’t some dream—fuck. You open your eyes as you turn the knob and slowly push the green creaking door open. And luckily nothing vanishes, nothing comes at you. You walk in and you don’t fall into some dark abyss; it’s warm, it smells like cinnamon and a Christmas morning. All the furniture you can see is the same, Christmas decorations greet you at the entrance bringing the holiday cheer to the house.

When you close the front door behind you and you take your shoes off at the entrance, happy tears fill your eyes, and a wobbly smile spreads on your lips. You’re home! Home!

You laugh softly with relief and feel tears actually rush out of your eyes.

“Who’s home?” You hear a familiar voice ask from the hall.

You wipe the tears off your cheeks and walk towards the hall in a giddy silence as you also hear footsteps approach. Once you make it under the hall's archway you stop at the same time your friend does only mere inches away from her.

You begin to grin brightly, while she stands there with her eyes widened with disbelief.

“Hi, Mia,” you greet her.

Said girl studies you, the dirty outfit you’ve worn for months, she studies your face and looks into your eyes in that stunned silence that paralyzes her. Meanwhile you give her time to grasp your presence and study her too; her hair is still short due to her fear of having it pulled by infected like when she was young, it’s still dyed like last time, and she’s remained ageless.

“Wh-how?” She stammers before she closes the gap left between you with an embrace that almost knocks you back.

“Hey,” you murmur happily.

“Apollo was just here,” she says by your ear. “He didn’t tell me anything.”

You laugh softly. “Yeah, he wanted me to surprise you.” You pull back and grab her shoulders. “I've missed you.”

Tears roll down her cheeks, and her smile wobbles. “I missed you too,” she redirects. “So much. I was so worried.” She hugs you again and lets out a relieved sigh as she holds you in her arms.

Along with Apollo and Atlas, Mia was one of your oldest friends too. She was a firefly like them and you, she was also your best friend. You all basically grew up together when you were with the firefly’s, you were all unbreakable.

“Did you just get here?” Mia asks and pulls back to turn you around and lead you away from the hall. “Have you eaten already?”

You nod. “Yes, I ate just a few minutes ago, and yes I just got here….with my dad actually.”

Mia stops, making you stop along with her. “What?” She queries and turns to face you. She looks into your eyes to try and read your emotions, but she instead questions you more. “How are you feeling about that?”

You let out a deep sigh that makes your smile falter, and simply shrug. “I don’t know…besides angry, I don’t know where I’m at, but I guess we’ll see won’t we?”

Mia hums and caresses your shoulder, and smiles a lot softer. “I’m so happy you’re back home. You must want to take a shower, and sleep, so I’ll leave you be.”

Yeah until maybe an hour later where she’ll be checking on you.

“Your room has been untouched so everything is in its place,” she adds, and now walks you around the kitchen to walk you to your room like if you’re new and need a tour. “You’ll just need a towel which are out in the closet, you’ll need blankets, I can get those for you, uh, a razor, new sanitary stuff, I can go…” she continues on but you tune her out as you open the door to your room. And as she walks forward you stop just in front of the doorway.

“….We can bake something later,” you tune Mia back in. “We can make your favorite for dinner, Apollo and Atlas should be home then”

She was right, your room was untouched, every piece of furniture was in its place, every decoration and accessory was left the same way you left it. There wasn’t even dust, and didn’t smell odd, which is probably thanks to Mia; your room actually smells like flowers, oddly enough.

“Yeah,” you agree mindlessly with a nod. “Sounds good.”

Your picture wall was still up and well kept, your posters aren’t ripped, it’s all clean.

“Okay,” Mia says as she turns to walk out of the room. “I’ll leave you now and go get that stuff. Need anything else?”

You follow her leaving figure with your eyes and shake your head. “Nah, but if you are leaving mind leaving the front door unlocked, a girl named Ellie might come over so if you aren’t here and I’m in the shower she can just walk in.”

Mia looks immediately curious over who you mention but she doesn’t probe now, she’ll do it later, you’re sure of it. “Okay, I’ll leave a note then.” She lets you know and grabs your door handle to begin closing it as she walks out. “I missed you.”

You shoot her a sweet smile and quickly counter. “I missed you too.”

She offers you one last smile before she closes the door behind her, letting you turn back to fully take in the fact that you’re now standing back in your room—it’s fucking unbelievble, it fills you with happiness and comfort. And as if it’s your first time you walk to your closet first and pull it open, you run your fingers along all the clothes that are hung up and smile.

If you could describe your room to someone, let’s say Ellie, in a few words it would be Old Hollywood meets vintage old money aesthetic—albeit a post apocalyptic version considering you can’t fully fill your room with all the things you want and need….

Sucks…

Anyhow, you then skip on forward to your brown and gold vintage round vanity mirror, and the first thing you notice that wasn’t on it last time is a bouquet of fresh flowers with a small note.

‘Welcome home - Atlas & Apollo’

You smile and tuck the note back to its place to then swipe your fingers across the counter, making sure not to touch the few perfumes and fragile trinkets you had collected. You then proceed to walk to the corner of the room to brush your fingers along the strings of your guitar as you walk to your shelf with music records, cassettes and movies; it’s all still there and now you can add another to your collection, thanks to Apollo.

After that you then walk to your picture wall to study every single picture with a faint smile. The one that makes you the happiest though is the picture strip of Sarah and you; it’s one you had taken in one of those photobooths. Alas it’s when you see the family picture of Sarah, you, and your dad that the happiness turns to sadness, and that smile falls to a wobbly frown.

What would be of your lives now if she had lived? What would she say about your estrangement with your dad?

Would she be mad at the both of you?

Probably.

You were a little family, you were too young to know if it was anything other than perfect, but it worked…you were happy then….

God you miss her….him too. He’s close, here now in Jackson, but it feels like you're strangers. Strangers forced to be together, forced to travel together. You miss him and your relationship. The man he was wouldn't return, but you’re okay with the man he is now, as flawed as he is you’re okay with him, as tainted as his past is you’re okay with him. But, what you are…are strangers.

——

A deep relaxed exhale leaves your lips as you find comfort on your mattress, in your clean clothes, and refreshed body after a long and deep shower.

Fuck that felt good, it’s like you took decades of dirt off you. It’s like you feel fucking lighter because of it now too. Maybe a week-long sleep would suit you well, maybe you can even hibernate like a bear, that’d be nice.

You smile to yourself and only sit up to put on your headphones, and turn your music on blast now that you don’t have to worry about what’s around you—You’ll go deaf your uncle Tommy and Mia would say, but who cares, it’s fun getting lost in the music.

That’s what you do listening to the cassette Apollo gave you. However, not for long because you then feel a nudge on your leg, and when you sit up there Maria is with a very deep purple jacket in hand.

“Hey,” you greet her as you pull your headphones down to your neck. You then look around for Ellie, but she’s not here. “Where’s Ellie?”

“I left her at the house,” Maria says. “I went to grab her this.” She lifts the jacket in her hand, and you scoff in amusement.

“It’s very purple,” you point out.

“Plum,” she corrects you and sits by you on your bed. “I just came to check on you, make sure you were settling in well.”

You sigh with relief and nod. “Yeah, it feels good being back home and showering, and changing clothes.” You let out a deep exhale and fall back on your bed. “I missed it, never let me leave for that long ever again.”

“I tried that the first time, you fought against logic,” she argues.

You shrug to brush her off. “Let’s call it an existential crisis, yeah?” You snicker.

Maria lets out a long sigh that means nothing good, so you sit up and narrow your gaze on her.

“What?” You immediately question.

Maria glances down and doesn’t hold back. She never did. “How did you end up with the cause of that existential crisis?”

Oh yes, you should've known she wasn’t going to leave it alone.

You blow out air and begin to fiddle with the string of your headphones. “We ran into each other at…KC. We were coming to the same place so we decided to travel together.”

Maria scoffs. “Months on the road and nothing seems mended,” she says. “Did he even try?”

You swallow thickly and shake your head softly. “No, but,” you add and pick at the fluff on your sheets. “It’s not like I tried either…if it wasn’t for that girl I don’t think I would’ve stayed with him.”

There’s a moment of silence before she picks on that. “Who is she?”

No one can know Ellie’s immune, as much as you trust Maria, it’s now up to your dad and Ellie to tell who they want, not you.

“A girl, some important firefly’s daughter he was ordered to deliver,” you lie and look up at her so she wouldn’t find you suspicious. “That’s all I know. He isn’t much for sharin’.”

Maria hums and doesn’t seem to find you suspicious so she moves on. Thankfully.

“Look, you’re an adult, you know what’s right from wrong, but you have too much of a good heart….”

You blink and avert your gaze to sigh.

“I don’t want to see you tormenting yourself any longer because of that man y/n—”

“He’s my dad, mama,” you cut her off with no anger or judgment, you cut her off quietly, sadly. “I can’t….” You pause and draw in a deep breath as you feel the need to cry slowly building up. “I can’t just,” you sigh, “forget him. No matter how much he’s hurt me. I can’t do that to him…or her…she’d be devastated.”

Maria carefully grabs ahold of your hand, making you lift your eyes to meet her soft yet hard gaze.

“I just don’t want to see you hurt,” Maria adds softly.

You offer her a comprehensive nod.

“Your uncle Tommy and I are always here, we’re here for you no matter what,” she continues and this time begins to caress your cheek. “You don’t need him. If those plants are dead there’s no need to waste water.”

You stiffen and draw in another shaky breath. You don’t add anything in his defense, you can’t come up with anything else to say but what you already put out.

“Whatever happens to that girl,” she adds on in your silence. “You protect her from him—”

Now you have something to say. “He’s not a bad guy,” you cut her off and meet her gaze with a pointed glare. “He’s just…tough because of what he’s lived through. But he’s not a bad guy.” You understand that now.

Maria raises her chin and doesn’t retreat. “He left you, his own daughter, tell me if that makes him good?”

You blink rapidly as you’re cut off guard by her comment.

“I’m just looking out for you,” she further explains herself. “You’re my family, I love you as if you were my own daughter which is why I just want to protect you.” She pulls her hand away and stands up. “And that girl doesn’t deserve to have her heartbroken by him.”

Maria then waits if you’d say something, but there was nothing you could add anymore, so you let her leave.

“I’m taking Ellie to the movies, enjoy the night with your friends, okay? And at night if it’s hard to sleep, the door will be open, you can sleep in your old room.” She offers.

You break your eyes from the bed to look at her in front of you and nod slowly. “Yeah, okay. Thank you.”

“If you don’t come tonight then come over for breakfast tomorrow, I can make pancakes.”

“Okay sounds good I’ll be there.” You assure her and offer her a very faint smile.

Maria walks to the door and lingers there for a moment before she walks out and closes the door behind you, letting you then throw yourself back to contemplate what was just discussed. She’s right about Ellie, but maybe he deserves time to explain himself to you, even after you said you’d be done with him. He deserves one more chance, if he doesn’t want to try and heal what’s broken then…you’ll stay true to your word and be done with him, for good…

You sigh and slide your headphones back on before flipping around on the bed to attempt and get lost in the music again.

However, now! Now…agony and grief slams back into you just as you were doing good today not thinking about Henry and Sam. All because of the stuffed giraffe on your bed that reminds you of them.

It happens all the time, one minute you think that you’ll get over it, that you’ll heal past that grief and let them be beautiful memories, but it hits you like a ferocious wave. And it’s hard to swim up when it does, you’re slowly drowning each time, sinking deeper and deeper. Not only that but looking at your dad everyday doesn’t make it any easier, there’s just more force that pushes you further down.

Funny and unexpected enough though, it’s been Ellie who has been such a….relief, a breath of fresh air, that ounce of hope that helps you get over the surface. Without her honestly it would’ve been hard getting back home.

Still…as of now it’s taking you again, that damned wave, so you take your headphones off and leave your music on the bed to instead grab the stuffed giraffe and walk outside to your backyard.

The precious meadow that you had grown is under a blanket of snow, much like everything else outside, so you can’t find a bit of bliss there. However, there is something new outside connected to the small white fence that surrounds the cement patio, a wooden bench swing with a canopy and all, hm.

It’s smooth, sturdy, and nice. Now you don’t have to get your ass wet on the snow. Maybe your uncle Tommy built it? Or maybe Mia’s boyfriend built it for her, he thinks himself a carpenter.

Whatever the case, you sit down and just ponder in the silence, watching the stuffed giraffe in your hands and thinking about them; about Henry most of all. You let time pass even as you begin to get cold, and don’t really come back to reality until you hear the backdoor close behind you.

When you sit up and look back you see your uncle Tommy walking to you.

You put the stuffed giraffe down and then beam at him. “Hey!” You greet him.

He offers you a sweet smile and pushes the gate open to walk over to you. “Hey, Sunny,” he greets back. “I’m sorry I let myself in, there was a note on the door.”

You shake your head and pat the open space by you. “Don’t worry about it,” you assure him and watch him study the bench with a smirk.

“Apollo built this for you, did you know?”

You blink in surprise and shake your head as your heart begins to flutter. “No, I didn’t.”

He hums and takes his seat, but rubs the armrests. “Yeah, he said that it’d be a good touch so you wouldn’t have to lay on the grass all the time. Or if you didn’t make it back home then it’d be hell of a memorial...it wasn’t really funny then,” he laughs softly. “But it is now.” He clasps his hands on his lap and glances at the stuffed giraffe before meeting your gaze. “He’s always had a sweet spot for you. He’s a good guy.”

You slowly grin and drop your head to nod. “I know.”

Is he implying something?

“Did you talk to my dad?” You probe and glance up at him. “You guys catch up?”

Your uncle lets out a deep sigh and nods stiffly. “Something like that. We…sorta got into an argument.”

You click your tongue and nod slowly in comprehension. “Sorta?” You probe.

“It wasn’t big but you know how he is.”

You nod. “Yeah,” you sigh.

Your uncle notices the frown and the sadness return in your eyes, so he presses you. “You, have you talked to him?”

You look on ahead at the snow covered meadow and shrug. “Sorta. We talked when we first reunited in KC, but after….after I just got mad at him all over again. I haven’t talked to him since.”

“Is that what has you all down?” He asks and hits you right where it hurts. He knows you too well.

Your eyes sting and your throat begins to feel all clumped up with all the emotions that rapidly build up, but you hold it back as best as you can and try to assure him. And yourself. “I..I don’t want to ruin today.” You offer him a strained smile. “We can talk about it some other day.”

Your uncle shifts in his seat to face you better and doesn’t brush it off. “I cleared up my whole day today for your dad, and for you. I have time to talk. Talk to me.”

He was never one to shy away from an emotional conversation, not with you anyway. Not like your dad. Your uncle Tommy was good that way, open and understanding. Not closed off and dismissive. You owe who you became through all the tragedy to him. It’s sad to admit but if you had been completely raised by your father you would have turned out like him perhaps.

Yet it’s quite hard saying what comes to mind. You part your lips to try and speak, but all you can muster is a shaky breath as you clutch onto the stuffed giraffe.

Your uncle doesn’t press you, he waits until you can finally mutter out.

“Can you tell me…” you pause briefly and glance down at your hands. “If somethings wrong….with me?” You ask in a quivering voice and slowly look up at him, catching his confusion and disbelief.

“My dad left rather than staying with me….and,” you continue through tears. “…the guy that I…loved killed himself rather than wanting to be with me. And I know it sounds selfish, h-he was just grief stricken, his little brother died….but we were partners…and,” you sniffle. “And he left me. So please be honest with me, tell me that I’m no good, that I’m a failure because that’s what I feel.”

Your uncle Tommy lets out a shaky sigh and immediately grabs your face to wipe away your tears and comfort you. “There is nothing wrong with you, baby, nothing. That guy…seems like he couldn’t handle what he felt, it happens, but you had nothing to do with it. And your dad,” he exhales and caresses your cheek. “Your dad did what he thought was best because he loves you. Losing your sister took a lot from him, but that doesn’t mean that somethings wrong with you, he loves you, and leaving was his way of showing it.” He says try and comfort you, and then pulls you in for an embrace, but you only sob more in the comfort of his arms.

You can hardly breathe, your chest feels heavy, your mind is racing, and your heart feels like it was going to jump out of you. Now you couldn’t hold anything back.

“I couldn't help him, he got bit and I couldn’t help. I couldn’t save Henry either, I should’ve just snatched the gun from him but I froze, and I couldn’t help him…just like I couldn’t help Sarah…” you spill out now through sobs.

Your uncle pulls back and grabs your shoulders to keep you close so you’d listen to what he had to redirect. “Sarah was not your fault, you understand that? There was nothing none of us could have done, especially not you, you were only 4. You understand?”

You keep your eyes averted and nod. But that isn’t enough for him.

“Look at me y/n,” he orders, causing you to slowly raise your eyes. “It wasn’t your fault. And I know I don’t know those people you knew, but one thing I am sure about is that it isn’t your fault what happened to them.” He wipes more tears off your cheeks and leans in closer so you’d listen intently. “You cry as much as you want, grieve as long as you need to, but you move on, you keep living for them. You understand? Don’t lose yourself, that’s the worst thing we can do. You understand me?”

You nod through heavy tears and get pulled into a tighter embrace that you sink into, that you bask in for a moment without saying anything. All until your heart slows down, and your head isn't filled with so much noise.

“Thank you uncle Tommy, thank you for listening,” you whisper and pull back to face him with a gentle smile. “I missed you.”

He offers you a sweet smile and wipes away more stray tears. “I missed you too, Sunny.”

You sit back and watch the delicate snowflakes begin to fall from the sky. You sit in silence next to your uncle with a much lighter feeling on your chest.

“I have to tell you something,” your uncle breaks the silence with an obvious nervous voice.

You blink and look at him with a teasing smile and a curious gaze. “What? Oh my, don't tell me…are you pregnant?”

Your uncle meets your gaze and doesn’t laugh even if you said it as a joke, he instead lets out a deep breath and just holds your gaze with the same nervous look that clues you in that you might have guessed right.

“Are you?” You ask seriously now and lean in.

He averts his gaze and nods, making you slowly begin to grin with utter fucking joy. “That’s amazing news, uncle Tommy!” You exclaim and jump off your seat out of excitement. “That’s like, the best news ever.”

Yet you couldn’t help but begin to feel just a bit envious. You were happy, excited, of course you were, but you couldn’t help but feel a smidge of envy. You never thought of that before, you never yearned for that, a family of your own; you were younger, hurt by your own issues with your dad, there was too much going on in your head to even think about that, you wouldn’t have made a good wife nor a good mother. But now after returning from your country wide trip, now after hearing that your uncle's family is growing, there’s this want growing in your own heart. There doesn’t even need to be a baby, but a partner would be nice.

“Why the long face?” You press as he doesn’t seem to match your excitement.

Your uncle sighs. “I'm just nervous, that's all. I’m very fuckin’ nervous, you know it’s going to be a whole human being. I just don’t know…” he trails off.

You giggle and sit back down next to him. “You have nothing to be nervous about, you’re gonna be a good father,” you assure him. “You might not be mine, but you were—are like one, and you did good.”

Your uncle meets your gaze with a soft look and a soft smile. “Thank you, Sunny,” he says.

You grin brighter at him and can’t help but get even more excited. “I’m finally gonna have a cousin, man. I mean I would have appreciated one like 20 years ago, 22 years ago, but I can teach them things now. I’m wiser now.”

He chuckles and then corrects you. “Sister,”

You snap your eyes to him and stiffen.

“You might not be mine, but you are like my daughter.” He says with a smile. “Mine and Maria’s.”

Your eyes water again, but you hold back your tears now and just laugh softly. “Can I hug you now, or do you want to celebrate with a shot?” You add.

“One wouldn’t hurt, but I’ll take that hug too,” he says and lets you throw your arms around him for a tight embrace.

“Thank you for telling me, I needed to hear some good news.”

He smiles and caresses your back. “I’m glad. I’m happy it made you smile.”

You giggle and pull back to shoot him another beaming smile.

He smiles now too and interjects. “Thank you, I needed that too. Made me feel better.”

You lay down on his lap and can’t stop smiling over the news. He sits back and lets his arm rest on you to enjoy each others presence and relish in the joy he brought.

“Don’t push me in the snow,” you warn him as he begins to make the swing sway back and forth. “I just took a shower.”

He scoffs. “Don’t give me ideas, ‘cause I’ll do it. Unless you’re gonna go snitch to your daddy now that he’s here.”

You giggle. “Don’t give me ideas.”

He slowly slides his hand to your back and applies a small amount of pressure, making you stiffen and hang onto the bottom of the seat. “Don’t,” you warn him.

“I ain’t doing nothin’.” He chuckles.

You turn and look at him with a pointed glare, but all he does is smirk mischievously. He then moves his arm back where it was so you turn back to face ahead.

Yet that’s when he gets you and pushes you off the seat, making you fall in the snow.

“Oops,” you hear him say.

You slap your hands on the cold ground, and slowly sit up on your knees to wipe the snow off your face roughly as you turn your head to glare at him.

“Go on,” he says with a stifled laugh. “Bring out your guitar so we can tune it up. Let’s make sure you haven’t forgotten that talent of yours.”

“Fine,” you grumble and stand up to brush the snow off your body. “I’ll get the bottle too.”

You’re only not getting him back because you just got back and because he shared that news with you. You’ll get him back though. Old fucker.

——

*LATER*

The tv played one of your favorite movies, but it played for no one since you and your friends gathered around the living room and got lost gossiping, drinking and playing some card game Atlas insisted on playing to make drinking “more fun”. That cinnamon scent that basked the room was pushed away by the smell of food Mia had made and the alcohol in your cups.

“That’s total bull,” you complain to Atlas about the number of infected he’s killed.

He scoffs. “You can’t say that, you weren’t here.”

You pull away from Mia’s arms wrapped around your neck to lean closer to Atlas. “That number is too high. I don’t believe you.”

Atlas shrugs. “Don’t believe me then, but I did kill that many.”

You roll your eyes and meet Apollo’s gaze to press him for the truth. He however shrugs and just shares a small smirk with you.

“I’ll let you off the hook and tell you how many I killed if you say the truth,” you suggest.

“No,” Atlas blurts and pushes you back to Mia with his foot, making you scrunch your nose in disgust. “You were out in the world, your number doesn’t count.”

“Sure,” you snicker. “You old vanity. You just don’t want me to beat you. You can’t take it. You’re too fragile.”

“Whatever,” he grumbles. “Can we just continue with the damn game before someone here talks about herself.”

You smirk. “I am a very interesting person. Just ask your dad.”

Atlas narrows his gaze and scoffs, whilst you and Mia high five.

“Okay, really did any of us get the number right?” Mia’s boyfriend asks to keep the game going.

You look between them all and shake your head. “Nope, you all drink.”

They all groan and Atlas is the one that mumbles of course. “That’s impossible.”

You watch them all take their shots with a playful smirk, but once you land on Apollo, your eyes linger and your smile softens. However, you then catch him shifting his gaze your way so you quickly look away and just feel his stare.

There’s something different about him now compared to before, the look in his eyes, his face maybe. He was never immature as his little brother is still til this day, but Apollo is far more mature than before. More handsome maybe—well he always was you just never gave it too much thought, you were far too troubled for that. And he was—is your best friend….

Damn….there’s that guilt stabbing at you again.

“Okay!” Atlas exclaims and sits up. “My turn, let’s change this game to the Apollo game.”

Mia groans. “Atlas that game is stupid. We know everything about each other—”

“Y/N’s been gone,” Atlas cuts her off. “So, let’s go on. Remember we make a statement about her and if it’s true she drinks, and you are then you drink, okay? Okay! Come on now SunnyD get up.”

You roll your eyes and sit up to drag yourself between Apollo and Mia.

“Okay,” he keeps yelling and does a drum roll on the ground. “You’ve been in love.”

Fuck.

You swallow thickly and get ready to answer, but a knock then raps on the door at that precise moment. Much to your excitement actually.

“Oh!” You jump up. “I’ll get it, you know how much I’ve missed actually answering a door without fearing for my life.” You run over to answer the door, and Achilles gets out of the couch to follow you to the door.

And much to your surprise once you open it you see your dad outside.

“Daddy,” you mutter in disbelief. “Hey.” You sligtly furrow your brows in confusion due to his very much vivid presence.

Your dad averts his gaze to stare at the ground and swallows thickly before stating his reason for this late visit. “Can we talk?” He asks.

Your heart skips a beat, and you grow speechless for a second. “Uh….sure, come in.”

He looks up at you and shakes his head. “No,” he says and glances past your shoulder to steal a glance at all your friends sitting in the living room listening in. “Can we take a walk?”

Must be important if he bothered to come all this way. “Okay,” you whisper and open the door wider. “Come in, I need to grab my jacket and my shoes.” You step aside and he shuffles inside awkwardly, causing the curious dog to sniff him before he runs back to Apollo.

“Uh,” you interject and walk to the end of the hall. “Now that you’re here, meet my friends from when my uncle Tommy and I were fireflies.” You point to Mia first. “That’s my friend Mia. And that next to her is Arthur, her boyfriend. Over there,” you point to the dark haired boy. “Is Atlas, and,” you shift your eyes to Apollo and smile softly. “That’s Apollo. Guys,” you breathe out. “This is my dad, Joel.”

Mia offers him a very faint half smile and simply waves, and her boyfriend does the same, whilst Atlas smirks and throws up a peace sign and a very quick greeting. “‘Sup.”

Gosh.

“Hi,” Apollo greets more properly, but stays sitting down. “It’s very nice meeting you Mr. Miller.”

You glance at your dad and see him just offer them a stiff wave and a dry greeting. “Hello there.”

Better nothing, and better than a gun to their heads.

“Okay,” you breathe out awkwardly. “I’m going to get my stuff.” You offer your friends a quick smile before you run off to your room to get what you need, whilst your mind races and spins with all the different outcomes to what could be said.

He doesn’t seem mad. Maybe it’s about his heart.

Or about choosing…no, it can’t be that. Positive thoughts only.

You let out a deep exhale before leaving your room to join your dad back at the entrance. “Okay,” you encourage him and throw a quick wave at your friends. “I’ll see you guys.” You open the door and walk out to the snowy night with your dad at your heels.

You expect to see Ellie waiting outside, but she’s not here, it’s only him.

“Where’s Ellie?” You ask as he now walks by your side when you exit your yard and now get on the street.

“Uh, she’s at the house,” he answers. “I just…wanted to talk to you. Alone.”

You shoot him a nervous glance and let out a small exhale. “Okay,” you whisper and grow even more nervous. “What’s wrong?”

You catch your dad scratching the back of his head and averting your gaze at all costs. “Just…just give me some time…I’m not that good at this.”

This doesn’t help whatsoever.

“Alright,” you whisper and glance at the falling snow as you take a turn to exit the street you lived on.

“I just,” he interjects and fists his hands. “I just need you to hear me, that's all I want, you don’t need to say anything, you don’t owe me nothin’. I just need you to hear what I have to tell you. Okay?”

You blink rapidly and nod. “Okay,” you whisper.

But he ends up taking another long moment to himself to think of the reason why he brought you out in the cold so late at night. You even pass your uncle's house, his own house that he was given to stay at. You pass lit streets, and only fill the silence with the crunches of your feet against the snow. You make it to the center of town where the large glowing Christmas tree brings cheer to the town.

“I,” he breaks his silence. “I’m sorry.”

You gasp softly and stop in your tracks as his words…words you never thought you’d hear, words he hasn’t spoken in a long time register in your mind.

“I’m supposed to be the one protecting you,” he continues and stops to turn around to face you. “I was the one who was supposed to teach you how to be the person you are now, I was the one who…needed to watch you grow up, but I…I let you down. I left,” his voice breaks. “I left you even if I knew your mother, even if I knew….Sarah would be mad. I left you, I hurt you…” his breath shudders and you can’t hold back your own tears now, no matter how much you wanted to fight them away.

“And I’m so ashamed of it,” he adds as…tears roll down his cheeks. “I am. But I don’t regret it,” he reveals and meets your watery gaze. “Because if I didn’t leave, you wouldn’t be who you are now, a strong, independent woman. You would only be angry like me, you’d be vain, and a monster.”

You shake your head against his words, but don’t say anything, you keep listening to him.

“I just wish I would have done things differently,” he mutters with more tears steaming down his face, tears that shock you to your core, leave you speechless and heartbroken.

“I’m sorry,” he says again in a tearful voice. “I am. There will never not be a day where I don’t regret how I hurt you.” He shakes his head and steps towards you. “And you have every right to keep on hatin’ me, to move on and not deal with me. I don’t blame you, I wouldn't. I just needed you to hear what I owe you.”

You let out a shaky breath and look up to watch the snowflakes dance down from the sky, littering the ground with their white icy texture, and making the ground twinkle against the street lights yellow hue, against the beautiful colors that wrap the grand green tree a few feet away from you. You watch the sky to take in all his words, to gather your own thoughts.

“I…” you murmur against the winter wind that blows past you. “I don’t understand,” you cry and look down at him, but his face blurs because of your tears, and the twinkling lights cloud him and your vision. “Why….why me? I….” you shake your head. “I love too easily…I don’t like to see the reality of things because it makes me sad, I dream too big and too much, I…I’m too boastful,” you sob.

“I’m not strong, I’ve never been. I’ve tried to change for you, I’ve tried to be a better daughter, one—one who you’d be proud of, but I can't, and you can’t ignore it…you can’t,” you shake your head with your quivering lip and step back away from him. “I’m not enough. I'm not perfect like Sarah was, I’m not…important like Ellie, I’m nothing,” you whisper. “You deserve better. You do.”

Your dad lets out a shaky breath and nods as more tears escape past his eyes. “It’s true,” he admits. “You might be a bit boastful, you might see the beauty of the world and hold onto too much hope, your dreams might be too big, but,” he quivers and takes a step towards you. “That is why I love you. I love every bit of it. I have loved it since the moment I held you in my arms for the first time. You…you are everything to me, baby, you are the reason I keep livin’, you are my entire world, and the beauty that this world lost. You are what makes all this worth it, you are everything to me.”

You scoff softly at his words and let out a shaky sob as you find them beautiful yet unbelievable.

“I’m sorry,” he says again and gets close enough so he can cup your cheeks. “I can’t do this without you. I can’t lose you too.”

You grab his hands, you hold onto them as you hold his teary gaze for a moment, before you throw your arms around him.

He’s caught off guard for a few seconds, but he then hugs you back and presses you against his chest and rests his head on yours.

You don’t have the luxury of time, neither of you, and you know you’d only hate yourself if something happened to him and you couldn’t say what you feel.

“I forgive you,” you assure him and hold onto him tighter. “I do. I forgive you.”

He lets out a relieved sigh and clutches onto you as his tears soak your head.

“Will you forgive me?” You ask, and he quickly pulls back to hold your face in his hands and look at you with confusion. “For not trying either. I should’ve tried too. And for that I’m sorry.”

Your dad quickly shakes his head and wipes away your tears. “You have nothin’ to apologize for, okay? Nothing.”

You sniffle and smile softly. “Still, I'm sorry, just take it, okay?”

He scoffs in protest, but nods regardless before he pulls you in for another tight and loving embrace, letting you find comfort in his warmth that wraps around you, and by the sound of his beating heart that eases as you hold him close to you.

“I love you,” he says by your ear. “So so much.”

You laugh softly and nod. “I love you too. I do.”

He gives you one last squeeze before you both pull away from each other and face the Christmas tree in a peaceful silence, hand in hand. You linger there until you remember what you have for him.

“Can I give you an early Christmas present?” You ask rhetorically.

But he still answers. “I don’t have anything for you, and well you shouldn’t.”

You scoff and turn to pull him back to your house.

“Look,” he interjects. “One more thing, about Henry….”

You blink and feel your smile falter.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

You swallow thickly and shake your head. “There was nothing you could do. Nothing any of us could do…” it’s sad to admit now, it tears your heart apart, but it’s true.

“But,” your dad continues. “You’ll be okay?”

You glance over at him and hesitate a moment before you nod softly. “I will. With time. The best thing we can do…is move on.” You know that now after the talk with him, he lifted that weight off you, and helped you from drowning under the depths of the suffocating waters. “As hard as it is, as impossible as it may seem now, we have to live for them, because we don't have the luxury of time….so that’s the best thing we can do, right?”

Your dad lets his eyes linger on you for a moment before he smiles softly. “I would’ve never thought of that…it’s sweet.”

You smile softly and hum, leaving the rest of your walk to your house silent. Once you do reach your house, your friends are still out, but calmer. “Excuse me,” your dad directs at them as you make him follow you to your room.

“Now I didn’t have time to wrap it, but it’s the thought that counts,” you tell him and turn the light on in your room. And luckily the gift is easy to find on your vanity.

“This room is…very you,” your dad comments as you hear him walk over to the corner of your room where your guitar is. “You play better now?”

You scoff and snatch the disc from your vanity to turn and face him. “Yes,” you admit. “I mean I'm not as good as you, but I’m better than I was before.” You grin and then close the gap between each other to hand him his favorite movie, Curtis and Viper 2.

“I never payed much mind to it before, but I watched it for the first time a couple years back, and it’s not bad,” you share. “That is the movie though, right? All I could remember were the funny men from the cover.”

Your dad looks down at the disc in his hands and immediately smiles. “You’re right,” he assures you, letting you let out a relieved sigh. All this time you thought you’ve been wrong—“It’s a great movie,” he adds. “Where you find it?”

You smirk. “I found it in the tunnels at KC. I just never got the chance to give it to you. You like it?”

He meets your gaze and nods. “I love it, baby. Thank you.”

You smile sweetly and clap softly out of joy. He notices your smile and his smile softens.

“It’s not that late yet,” you add, “even if it looks so. My tv works….I can pop it in. If you want.” You suggest.

Your dad doesn’t hesitate—he can’t turn you down, so he nods. “Go on, pop it in.”

You squeal softly and take the movie from him to now head to your small tv. “You can lay on the bed, just take your shoes off.”

He hums, and as you’re putting on the movie you hear your bed sink and shoes thump on the ground. And as overjoyed as you are, someone comes to mind and brings your mood down slightly. Yet you don’t bring her up until you’re laying down next to him watching the previews play with your head on his chest, finding comfort by the sound of his heartbeat and his arm around you.

“About Ellie,” you bring up without shame, hoping he’d be honest. “What are you goin’ to do?”

Your dad lets out a deep sigh and you feel him swallow thickly. “I’m not the man I used to be,” he admits quietly as he caresses the side of your head. “I’m old now. You know that, I’m…not strong enough no more, but…trust me when I say I'm going to do my best by her.”

He’s right about being old, but is he right about letting her leave?

You can’t let her leave with just your uncle Tommy. You know that heartbreak too well, and you know your dad has the best intentions, you wouldn't have seen that yourself before, but hopefully she’ll see it with time. If that’s what he wants. You can’t force him to do anything.

“Alright,” you trust him. “But whatever happens, I’m going with her, I’m seeing her off. For her and for what she can mean to the firefly’s and humanity,” you say softly. “I owe it to Sam, to everyone else that I’ve lost to that infection.”

Your dad lets out a deep breath. “That’s fine,” he says. “That’s good. Your Uncle Tommy plans to take her tomorrow morning. It’s a week's ride.”

You just got home, but fuck it. One more trip and that’s it.

“What about you?” You probe. “What will you do?”

He stays quiet for a moment and watches the movie finally start. “I don’t know.” He breaks his silence.

You sigh softly. “That’s fine,” you assure him. “Just…do what’s best by her, and you. Okay? Promise?”

“I do,” he whispers. “I promise.”

You smile softly. “Good,” you whisper.

——

*THE NEXT MORNING*

Flashlight?

Check.

Extra clothes?

Check.

Books to read?

Check.

Multiple pairs of fingerless gloves that keeps your hands warm but helps with other purposes?

Check.

New cassettes to listen to?

Check.

Every other little thing that goes in the backpack?

Uh….check!

Weapons?

Need to check those out, but it’s all here. Good. You get off the edge of your bed and once you’re at the door you make sure to be quiet since it’s still pretty early and neither person living here gets up just yet.

However, as you quietly step out of your room you almost run into Mia waiting outside of your door with her arms over her chest, and her dark eyes piercing your very soul—she’s pissed. She knows.

“Mornin’,” you greet her with a small smile.

Mia doesn't return it, or return that same energy. She remains pissed.

“Don’t,” she cuts you off. “Don’t smile at me like everything’s okay.”

She might be shy and gentle, but she’s no one to mess with when she’s upset. Like now.

“You’re leaving again.” She knows. How?

You lose your smile and let out a deep sigh. “Yes,” you admit. “I am but not for long. Maybe just a month this time, or even less. I just need to see someone off.”

Mia shakes her head and her brows furrow deeper. “Can’t someone else do that? You just got home from a 2 year trip. A trip you probably barely survived…”

“Mia,” you interject to try and comfort her concern, but she continues and drops her arms to her sides to take an angry step towards you.

“No. No! We waited, I waited for you for 2 years, everyday I prayed that you wouldn’t meet the same fate everyone else did; my mom, my brother. I waited and now you’re leaving again.”

You swallow thickly and quietly mention who you’re going with this time in hopes that would help. “I’m going with my uncle Tommy. I’ll be back, I came back this time. I promise.”

“No, that’s no excuse—”

“And you can’t make me stay,” you cut her off this time. “I appreciate your concern, I do, but I have to see this girl off, I have to make this worth something…I lost people Mia, a guy I loved, and his brother who I adored…he got bit….” You pause and swallow back thickly. “If taking her might be worth something I have to do it for them.”

Mia seems puzzled by what you said since she doesn’t see the bigger picture, but she doesn’t argue now.

“I’ll come back,” you assure and take another step toward her to take her hands in yours. “I promise. I won’t leave after that. I’ll stay home. Just one more trip.”

Mia drops her gaze and hesitates before she nods softly and whispers, “okay. One more.” She then pulls her hands away to wrap you in an embrace. “Come back, okay?”

You return her embrace and nod. “I will,” you assure her. “I swear.” You give her one gentle squeeze before you pull away to offer her one last smile before you continue your way outside.

Yet, of course, as you walk past your yard, there, against the fence is Apollo with a backpack, and Achilles waiting next to him. How the hell did they know you’re leaving?

Did they overhear?

“Apollo?” You question and come to another stop.

Achilles runs to you and rubs his body against you before sitting by your side now, while Apollo turns to face you as he drops his folded arms down to his sides.

“I can get the horses, you check out the weapons.” He peels away from his spot and steps off the sidewalk, whilst you just look at him in disbelief.

“Hold up, where are you going?” You interrupt him.

Apollo stops in his tracks and just peers back. “I’m going with you and Tommy.” He mentions it casually.

You blink in disbelief and let out a breathless laugh. “What?” You shake your head. “Why?”

Apollo turns around completely and looks almost surprised you’d ask such a question. “I accidentally overheard you and your dad talking on my way to bed last night—”

Sure. Accidental.

“I'm not sitting on my ass here while you’re off risking your life and having all the fun—“

You scoff softly.

“Besides,” he adds in a softer voice. “I don’t want to wait for you to come back home again. I’ll go with you this time.”

You breath traps in your throat out of disbelief over his words, and a soft smile begins to appear on your features. “That’s nice,” you tell him. “Very…but…I can’t be who you want…not yet at least. I lost someone, someone I loved, someone I fell in love with. It’s still a fresh wound, ” you scoff as your eyes begin to sting. “I can’t be who you want, or what you want.”

Rather than being hurt, or upset by your words Apollo smiles. “I loved someone too. I was in love with her too. It hurts too. But,” he adds in a soft voice as he takes a step towards you. “I’m not asking you to be my first love, nor do I want to be yours….we can be each other's last, whenever you’re ready, I’ll wait.”

Tears fall past your eyes and you can only whisper. “Okay.”

He grins, but you step back again. “But I can’t make you come with us. I don’t want you to. Your brother is here, your dad,” you insist. “They need you alive.”

“I can die here too,” he interjects. “It doesn’t matter, y/n, I would go to the edge of earth with you. I would’ve had you asked me before.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help your smile. But as nice as his words are to hear, the answer remains the same. “What if I want you to wait for me here?” You say and now get closer to him. “So you can greet me when I get home. So I can have something to look forward to. A light in the dark.”

“That,” he chuckles softly. “Is the cheesiest thing ever.”

You laugh and nod in agreement, stopping now as you’re only inches away. “Yeah, but will you?” You querie.

He holds your gaze and offers you a soft assuring smile. “I already did, what’s another month or so?”

Your grin widens and you immediately throws your arms around him. He immediately returns the embrace and nuzzles his head on your shoulder.

“Be careful, okay?” He adds.

“I will,” you assure him and linger in his embrace for a moment longer. “You take care too, promise?”

“I promise.”

You smile and pull away to cup his cheek, he offers you a soft smile before he raises his hands to unwrap his scarf around his neck to instead carefully wrap it around yours.

“There, nice and toasty.” He murmurs.

You giggle and hold his gaze for another moment before you pull away before you couldn’t bring yourself to leave, and turn to walk to your uncle Tommy’s house now. You want to look back, but you don’t, you can’t, it’d only make you feel bad for leaving, so you just feel his stare and walk away. You can’t even give it too much or else you’ll feel bad too, you just clear your mind and walk.

Once you make it to the street where your uncle lives you catch him walking out of his own house. He spots you right away, and is rightfully surprised by your presence.

“What are ya doin’?” He asks once you meet halfway in the middle of the street.

You shrug. “Makin’ Maria even more mad.” You glance at his house and nod slowly. “Goin’ with Ellie, and you. Leaving, one more time. And don’t you dare fight me, I’ll fight back.”

Your uncles lips pull into a soft smile and he scoffs as he nods. “Okay then,” he doesn’t question you further, he respects your choice without a fight.

You glance at his house again and sigh. “No pancakes in there, is there?” You ask with a bit of hope.

He shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Well It’s a good thing I ate beforehand then.” You turn and begin to walk to the house Ellie and your dad were staying at. “Wanna go fetch her?”

He nods. “Yep.”

As he goes inside you wait outside and think about your dad now. He said he was going to do right by her, you trust him, but is he really not going to see her off at the gate or even just outside the house? You said your goodbyes last night just in case, but what about her?

“Y/N?” You hear Ellie’s voice as the front door closes behind her.

You lift your head, and offer her a sweet smile and a small wave. “Hey.”

She stops by you and studies you for a moment in this soft shocked reaction before she probes. “Are you coming?”

You nod and begin to follow after your uncle as he leads the way. “Yep. I’ve been gone from home for two years, what’s another month or so?” You tell her. “Besides, I don’t want to miss another hell of an adventure.” You smirk at her, and she offers you a soft smile. “Is that okay?” You make sure regardless of the relief you read on her face.

“Yeah,” Ellie says without hesitation. “Yeah.”

You offer one more smile before you skip ahead to walk at your uncles side. “Stables and then can we get my rifle and pistol? I’ve felt like I’ve been missin’ something all day. It’s weird.”

He peers back and then glances at you to nod. “Of course. How did it go with your friends? Have fun?”

You nod and begin to get ahead a bit. “Yeah. We had fun, we ate some food, we drank, watched Pulp Fiction—which,” you say and look back at Ellie, “we need to watch by the way, when we get back. Sorry, have you watched it?”

Ellie shakes her head. “I never have, no.”

You smirk. “Great movie. You’ll like it, I’m sure of it.”

“Is it romantic? I prefer more action and scary movies.” She says.

You scoff and shake your head. “Nah, it’s not romantic. You’ll like it, trust me.”

“You make a play based off that too?” Ellie comments, making your uncle chuckle.

You shoot her smirking face a narrowed glare. “No,” you deadpan. “I didn't. I couldn’t bring myself to do that to that movie.”

“No but seriously,” your uncle interjects. “Once we come back you need to tell her to make a play, they’re all surprisingly good.”

“Of course they are,” you quip. “And! What is that supposed to mean?”

He smirks. “Just surprisin’ that’s all. Don’t know where you get that talent from.”

You hum and shoot him a pointed glare, and leave at that as you see the stables coming up ahead.

“I get my own horse right?” You ask and run up ahead.

“You’re sharin!” Your uncle exclaims.

“Beats walkin’!” You comment and slow down as you enter the pen. And rather than waiting for them to catch up you walk in the stables to start getting the horse ready.

Albeit, just as you walk in you stop right away as you catch your dad saddling a horse. You know what it means; he changed his mind about staying. So instead of diving into questions you just smile at him as you meet his gaze, and look back as your uncle and Ellie walk in.

“You come here to say goodbye or something?” Ellie asks in an upset tone.

“No,” your dad says. “I came here to steal one of these horses and go.”

He could’ve just asked.

“Well,” your uncle interjects. “I woulda gave you one.”

Your dad pats the horse's neck and looks at his brother. “I know,” he says. “Anyway.” He glances at Ellie. “That was 30 minutes ago, and I guess…” he pauses and walks to Ellie to continue. “You deserve a choice. I still think you’d be better off with Tommy—”

He gets cut off suddenly as Ellie shoves a blue bag of supplies so he can hold, and retorts. “Let’s go.”

Your dad glances at you before looking back at Ellie and adding, “okay.”

Silence follows so you move past them to saddle your own horse since three don’t fit on one. Your uncle helps so the progress moves on faster, but as he does you come to the realization that now he won’t be coming. The only reason he was going was because your dad wasn’t, but now that he changed his mind your uncle stays.

“I’ll make it back before the baby is born,” you break your silence.

Your uncle looks over at you and shoots you a smile. “You better.”

“I’ll make it back before my birthday too,” you add with a playful smirk. “So you better start plannin’, you’ve been let off the hook for 2 years now.”

“You come back and I’ll throw you the biggest party you’ve had,” he feeds to your demand.

You smile softly as you feel sadness in your heart knowing you have to leave him again. “I’ll hold you to it.”

“Wouldn’t expect it any other way.”

You giggle and finish up saddling up your horse to then meet up with Ellie and your dad outside the stable.

“General direction?” Your dad asks your uncle, but he looks to you instead.

“She knows it, she can lead the way.” Your uncle points out. “You remember the school, right Sunny?”

You nod as you caress your black horse's neck. “Yeah. I remember.”

Your dad nods in comprehension, and once he looks back at his brother in front of him they quickly move in and embrace each other. It’s short but sweet, and makes you smile with joy to see that they’re doing okay.

It’s not like it was before, but the love is there.

“There’s a place for you here,” your uncle tells your dad once they’re apart. “For Ellie and you.”

“Countin’ on it,” your dad says, letting your uncle now look at you again.

“You come back now, understand?”

You shoot him a smirk. “Have to. Can’t miss my own party.”

He smiles and lets his eyes linger on you to take in the sight of you one more time.

“Can I borrow that?” Your dad interjects.

Your uncle breaks his gaze away from you to glance at his rifle before meeting your dads gaze. “Yeah.” He accepts and then slides the gun off his shoulder.

“‘Cause Maria took mine, you know?” Your dad says.

“I already said yes, Joel,” he retorts as he hands your dad the gun. “Adios, big brother.”

Your dad offers him a nod before finally moving out. And once you collect your own rifle, pistol, and other supplies you may need, you climb on your horse and head on out. One more time.

But, this time with not such a heavy heart, or a tormented mind.

——

*LATER*

The sound of the gunshot rang against the secluded grass field, and the sound of the bullet breaking a tree trunk echoes out, making you snicker at Ellie’s failure to shoot the close target.

She chooses to ignore you though and shoots again, but once again misses and hits a small pile of snow near the target. And this time you smile at the ground as you shift your position.

She does it a third time, but no luck, so she lets out an annoyed sigh that lets your dad comment. “Wide right.”

Ellie shakes her head in denial.

“You’re flinchin’,” you comment, and unfold your arms off your chest.

“The targets too small,” she rebuttals you and your dad.

“I made it bigger than I should’ve,” your dad mentions and points to the gun. “Eject the cartridge.”

Ellie does so and the bullet falls to the ground first before she argues back. “And I’m not flinching.”

You and your dad share a teasing look before you hum. “Mm-hmm.”

“The rifle just sucks,” Ellie keeps mumbling.

You roll your eyes, and your dad steps forward. “Okay, give It.”

Ellie hands the rifle to your dad with a sigh and another comment. “It doesn’t aim right.”

You crouch down beside your dad as he switches spots with Ellie, and hum again with a little playful smirk on your lips. “Mm-hmm.”

“You’ll see.”

“A deep breath in,” your dad says as he gets the gun ready. “Slow breath out. Squeeze the trigger like you love it.”

“Mm,” Ellie hums as she looks through the binoculars.

“Gentle,” he continues and lowers his head, and closes one eye to look better through the scope. “Steady…nice and slow.”

“You’re gonna shoot this thing or get it pregnant?” Ellie retorts, making you snicker as your dad looks up at her with a disapproving look.

“It isn’t gonna work. It doesn’t aim right,” Ellie continues, so your dad then hits the trigger gently and the bullet hits the target straight on, causing him to lower the gun and look up at her all cocky.

“You dick,” Ellie quips with a grin.

Your dad shrugs smugly, causing you to snicker at Ellie.

“2 out 2?” You suggest smugly.

Your dad smirks and happily hands you the rifle, making Ellie shake her head in disapproval.

“Watch carefully, kid,” you comment as you scoot further in the middle.

“Don’t get the gun pregnant,” she quips.

“Haha, funny,” you mumble and eject the cartridge as you close one eye and aim at the target. “Now…” you trail as you hit the trigger, and the bullet whizzes out and hits the target inches away from where your dad hit it.

“See,” you taunt Ellie and lift your head. “Can I get a bump?” You offer her your fist.

Ellie scoffs lightheartedly and pushes your fist away. “No,” she grumbles, so your dad gently taps your fist with his.

“You guys suck,” Ellie scoffs and turns around to head back to the horses.

You snicker and push yourself to your given height, and hand the rifle back to your dad to quickly catch up to Ellie. “You just need patience,” you assure her and look around the fields. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

Ellie glances at you and then looks back at your dad following at your tail. “Did it take you time?”

You sigh deeply. “Not much, but it’s not because I had much of a choice, I was forced to adapt, forced to learn everything quickly to survive. It’s not super easy for you, but you have it easier, you’re used to all this shit since you were born in it, I wasn’t.”

“So you’re saying I can be better,” Ellie comments.

You glance at her and scoff as you nudge her to the side. “Sure, practice and then we’ll see.”

Ellie smirks and nods in comprehension. Once you reach your horses you continue on ahead down your path, filling the day with silence at times and conversations that come up at other times. Due to the horses it was faster to get around the land, it was also less stressful since they can pick up sounds neither you might hear.

Luckily though they didn’t catch anything bad, no infected or people, the path was clear and the day was easy, making for a calm night in the spot you settled down at.

“Now that we have time,” you interject and grab your backpack from behind you to plop it down in front of you. “I have a Christmas gift for you Ellie.”

“What? Really?” Ellie queries curiously.

You hum and open your backpack. Since what you have for her is placed on top you look over at her sitting to the side of the campfire and add on. “I gave my dad his Christmas gift early, so might as well give yours early too.” You shoot her a smile, and she glances at your dad with slight shock before getting up from her seat to sit next to you.

“Now keep in mind,” you continue and now begin to pull out her gift. “I didn’t have time to go into town to actually shop well, but I do hope you like it.” You fully pull out her gift and hand it to her. “And it’s not wrapped either so sorry.”

Ellie’s smile turns timid as she takes the brown leather holster from you, but she soon grins once she figures out what it is exactly. “No way!” She exclaims and stands up to hook it around her hip. “A thigh holster!”

“Now you don’t have to be scared about shooting off your ass,” your dad comments.

You giggle and nod in agreement as you watch Ellie now tie the last strap above her knee. “Cool,” she mumbles and tucks her pistol in the holster before quickly sliding it out and pointing at the empty space between your dad and you—“Fast move,” she mutters to herself, and then spins the gun around her finger to try and insert it back in the holster all swiftly, but the gun hits the ground instead.

“Jesus, Ellie,” your dad snaps.

Ellie stifles her laugh so as to not piss your dad off and picks up her gun to put it back. However she then finds the tip hits against something inside so she pulls out the gun and digs her fingers inside, and pulls out a leather necklace with a small piece of wood carved into a neat circle with a butterfly burned onto it. On each side of the necklace, over the wood are small wooden beads.

“Is this…” she pauses and her smile softens as well as her eyes. “Is it for me too?”

You nod. “Yeah. The necklace is adjustable so you can have it where it feels comfortable.”

Ellie grins softly and turns the small wooden pendant and smiles wider.

“It has my name on it—did you do this?” She asks.

You scoff and shake your head. “Nah, my friend did. I can’t do that.”

Ellie looks back at the necklace and shifts her eyes to the other thing around it, something small, thin, plastic and shaped like a dull triangle. “What is this?”

You glance over at your dad and let him answer. “A…guitar pick. Uh…I figure that once we go back to Jackson you’ll need a hobby so you won’t get bored, so I thought maybe you’d like to learn how to play a guitar.”

You smile wider and look back to Ellie, seeing her eyes only twinkle brighter. “You play?” She probes.

He nods. “Haven’t played in some time, but yeah, I do. I taught y/n a bit. I can teach you if you’d like.”

Ellie nods quickly. “Yeah, that’d be cool. I’d like that. Thank you, the both of you. I’m sorry I don’t have a gift for you, y/n.”

You shake your head and assure her. “Don’t worry about it. You can make it up for my birthday. My uncle Tommy is throwing me a party.” You share with a sweet smile.

“Oh is he now?” Your dad probes.

You glance at him and nod. “Yep. You guys are invited by the way.”

“I’ll think about it,” your dad teases you, making you scoff and roll your eyes.

“By the way,” Ellie interjects as she ties the necklace around her neck. “Why does Tommy call you Sunny? Is it like a middle name or something?”

“A nickname,” you tell her. “But I don’t know why exactly he does, he just does. I’ve never asked.” You shrug.

“He says it because,” your dad cuts in, causing Ellie and you to look over at him. “Back when y/n was a little girl she always had a Sunny disposition, she was always smilin’. As a little baby she was easy to make laugh too, so one time this song by some 70s band with the same name began to play, and he got it from there.”

Ellie smiles. “Sweet,” she comments, whilst you grin and miss your uncle all over again.

At least this time it’s not as bad as before though, because at least now you do have your father, and are closer to Ellie, so they make it all easier now. They make the long days of riding that follow a lot easier, and even make those days seem quicker. Especially because Ellie has a lot of questions regarding the time before.

Like now for example, as you’re riding on horseback through the woods she breaks the peaceful silence with a question. “So the way they ran stuff in Jackson, was how things used to be?”

“No,” your dad answers this question. “The country was too big for that. Back then there were basically two main ways of lookin’ at things. Some people wanted to own everything.”

“Mm-hmm,” Ellie hums in comprehension, and your dad continues.

“And some people didn’t want anyone to own anything at all.”

“Which one were you?” Ellie asks.

“Neither,” he says. “I just did my job.”

“Which was…” Ellie trails off as she thinks, and glances at you since you had told her once before. “Building?” She asks.

“That’s right,” he answers. “Houses, stores, that kinda thing. We were called “contractors”.”

“The contractor,” Ellie says in a deep voice, making you grin down at your handle—“that’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah,” your dad adds on. “We were cool. Everybody loved contractors.”

Really? Hm.

“Nice,” Ellie says and proceeds to rest her head on his back.

You try to think if he’s right, but you were too young before to know otherwise, and your uncle Tommy never said anything against it so your dad must be right.

“This has been ‘Construction corner with Joel Miller’,” you quote in a deep voice.

Ellie and your dad look over at you, and you laugh.

“It’s what Tess used to say.” You let Ellie know, and remind your dad.

Ellie smiles and then adds her own bit. “The Contractor!” She mocks in a deep voice.

You smirk. “The Contractor!” You mock as well. “Joel the Contractor.”

Ellie laughs and repeats what you said. “Joel the Contractor.”

Where is Tess? You may have not known her long, she might’ve scared you a bit before, but she was nice and cool. You’d ask, but you didn’t want to sour the mood, so you went on going without knowing.

Eventually the day turns to night and so as to not exhaust yourselves you camp for the night; this time in a place deeper in the woods.

“Okay,” you add as you stare up at the starry sky. “So if you could name 3 songs to describe yourself, what would it be?”

Ellie hums, and you glance over at your dad that has his back turned to Ellie and you.

“I wouldn’t know,” she mutters.

“Okay,” you nod. “Then to describe each other.”

You have three perfect songs for Ellie.

Ellie goes silent for a second before interjecting loudly in defeat. “Fuck, I don’t know!”

You giggle, and unexpectedly your dad interjects when he’s supposed to be sleeping.

“Three? For you, y/n, Uptown Girl by Billy Joel, Sunny, and,” he pauses and begins to laugh.

“What?” You probe and flip around to face his back. “What other song?”

“That song you sang for my birthday 20 years ago, by that one rapper named after two quarters.”

“Oh god,” you grumble and flip back around to face the sky. “I thought you forgot that! That’s so embarrassing!”

“Wait?! What?!” Ellie exclaims and flips around to face you and your dad. “What song is it?”

“I don’t know,” your dad says. “Tell y/n to sing it for you.”

“Daddy,” you warn. “Don’t.”

“What?” He chuckles. “It was cute, I told ya it was. She,” he continues and looks over his shoulder. “She dressed up as me that day; she wore one of my shirts, put on this fake mustache, and sang this rap song as one of my birthday gifts. It was great, one of my favorite gifts by far.”

You slap your hands on your face to hide your embarrassment.

“Really?” Ellie probes with a snicker. “That’s nice. Do you remember the words, y/n? I’d love to hear them since you know, I’m not that well up to date about the world before.”

Guilt tripping you? Not nice.

You don’t fall for it, you shake your head. “No!” You deny her, and pull your hands off your face to pull your sheet over your face as you drag yourself further in your sleeping bag. “This is over goodnight!”

“Come on!” Ellie presses you, and you can practically feel her grin. “Just one verse!”

You ignore them and pretend to be asleep. They both then try to press you, but you stay defiant and don’t give in. They eventually drop it after relentless teasing, so the night passes, a day does too and so on until finally that day comes when you’re finally close to your destination.

“Here we were,” you say as you bring your horse, and the other two to a stop in front of the intersection. “We’re here.”

“Well,” your dad interjects. “How ‘bout that? Made it in five days.”

“Easy days,” Ellie says, and you keep on moving now towards the city. “I don’t know what Tommy was so afraid of.”

“Still time to find out.”

“Still time to find out,” Ellie mocks your dad using a deep voice.

You glance over at her and scoff in amusement, while your dad shoots her a hard pointed stare.

“The contractorrrr,” Ellie whispers creepily.

You laugh and play along too. “Joel the Contractor.”

Ellie lets out a chuckle and repeats what you said. “Joel the contractorrr.”

You both share a laugh that’s quickly cut off by your dad.

“Quiet, the both of you, we’re going to enter the city now we don't know what lies ahead.”

You stifle your teasing smile and assure them. “Nothin’, the city isn’t wiped out from infected, but it’s not bad considering it’s where the firefly’s come to. Same goes for stragglers and groups. We’ll be on the clear if we head directly to campus.”

“And that’s where they’ll be?” Ellie asks with no laugh or smile now.

When you steal her a glance you see slight fear and worry, so you do your best to come off confident. “It's where they stay,” you assure her. “They’ll be there.”

Hopefully….

.

.

.

A/N- Why can’t the Miller’s just eat pancakes and be happy? Anyway don’t forget that gesture of reader laying her head on Joel’s chest, it’s gonna come back and bite everyone in the ass iykyk

Tagged- @slut-f0r-u @star-wars-lover @traceylader @givemylovetoall @itzagothamcitysiren @sammy-13 @beloved-reblogger @emiriia @rues-daya @sunfairyy @littleshadow17 @mcu-starwars @bigtuffswordboy @riaqiax @dheet @queenofthekill @joliettes @d4rno @dgraysonss @rana030 @punisherinthealps @pedropascalluvr41 @ahoyyharrington @beaniebeensbaby201 @maeneedsabreak @maelartasch @adristyles @daughterofthequeen @alastorhazbin @ririvilliams @khaylin27 @hypatia93 @hummusxx @v4mpyk1tten @1donoow @your-shifting-gurl

[citrus-moonlight]

Danger Starts the Sharp Incline

Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther Pairing: Demon!Klaue x Fem Scientist Reader Chapters: 1 of 1 Word count: 4.5K Rating: Explicit

Summary: At your scientific organization the study of demon energy output has become no less mundane than it would at any other research facility. That is until you find yourself trapped with the demon who has recently shifted in your thoughts from an idle curiosity to a distraction.

Warnings: Explicit Rating!, No Age Specified, PWP, One Shot, Smut, Let Me Be Clear: This Is Absolute Filth, Monster Fucking, Demon Fucking, Could be viewed as Dubcon, Implied Mind Manipulation, But to be clear reader is Into It, Pet Names, Touch Starved Demon, Oral Sex (Fem Receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Big Hands I Know You're the One, Unprotected PIV, Size Kink, Squirting, A Lot of Demon Cum, Like A Lot, Cum Marking, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms (both), Overstimulation, Possessiveness

A/N: Once again, this was supposed to be a quick little smutty thing that ended up getting very, very away from me. This honestly could have been even longer (it was over 5.5k and counting at one point!), but I managed to reign myself in, lol. I almost feel like I have enough for a part two, so who knows, perhaps I'll revisit this AU one day in the future!

This was inspired by the first bit of this absolutely incredible demon/scientist blurb* by @biscuitdragonwithastick, which you should definitely read first (thank you for the ok to go ahead with this!). It fully dug its claws (pun intended?) into my brain and refused let me go. I couldn't stop thinking about a Demon!Klaue AU, and thanks to some lovely encouragement, this is the result!

Please, please mind the tags, my dears, and thank you for reading!

*Demon's name has been changed here to fit the AU

Dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics ❤️

UPDATING TO ADD PLEASE GO CHECK OUT THIS DEMON!KLAUE FANART BY MY INCREDIBLE LOVELY TALENTED FRIEND, truly I have not stopped screaming! 😍🥹💕

Work title is from "All Mine" by Portishead

AO3 Link

Make no mistake You shan't escape Tethered and tied There's nowhere to hide from me All mine You have to be

Klaw’s reaction continues to be noted by the higher-ups, and eventually it’s decided that they want to conduct an experiment, using you.

The next time you’re scheduled on the cleaning rotation they want to take the opportunity to determine if there’s a measurable difference in output and chemical composition - before and after you’ve been in the room with him.

“Just consider what it might mean to the future of energy research”, they’d said. “It could lead to the discovery of a demon-sensitive pheromone additive that boosts energy output across the board.”

Although you flush at the outward acknowledgement of what’s been happening, you can’t deny that it intrigues you.

Especially since you had started dreaming about him.

Since you’d stopped being able to control how wet you got when you observed him.

Since the self-consciousness you’d felt at the sidelong glances of your colleagues had started feeling like something else. 

Something like pride.

* * * * * *

Two days later you’re scheduled for the night shift alone, with not much else to do but make the occasional note in the shift log and wait for the alarm that indicates the mare’s collection tank is full. So you wait. 

And watch.

For the first time you have a chance to really just look at him, and you’re finding it difficult to pay attention to the instruments that you should be monitoring. Your eyes instead are continually drawn back to the observation window and the thick mop of black curls that falls across his forehead where his horns emerge, sharp features are framed by the scruff of a dark beard, and an intriguing mix of tattoos, brands and scars play across the planes and curves of his body.

Although his muscles aren’t as chiseled as many of the demons you've observed in this facility his shoulders and arms are thick, and you unconsciously lick your lips as your eyes follow the dark hair that covers his broad chest and abdomen down to where it meets the wiry hair at the base of his cock.

A slick warmth has been slowly pooling between your thighs since you settled into your chair at the beginning of the shift, but as you watch the bored pumping of his hips fall into a smoother, swaying rhythm, that warmth ignites.

Widening his stance, hooved feet brace on the floor as he pulls out further before thrusting back in, letting you watch his cock slide slowly back into the machine’s opening, burying himself with a jutting roll of his hips, over and over. Almost teasing. 

Almost taunting.

This could be you.

It’s only when Klaw drags his hands along the metal “body” of the mare that you notice it: The claws of the first three fingers of his right hand seem to be…gone? 

With a flicker of concern you flip a switch on the console, using the camera to zoom in. 

Ok, no, they’re not gone per se, but they’re definitely shorter, nearly down to the quick. Was it an accident? Did they break in a fervor as he fucked the contraption? 

Frowning at the screen your mind turns over the possibilities, but before you can think to add the peculiarity to your notes your thoughts fizzle away when you glance back up to the observation window and see that he’s watching you.

As soon as your eyes meet his the tease in his movements falls away and he’s bottoming out hard against the opening in a rough, stuttered rhythm as his eyes cloud over, and you know from past observation that he’s nearing the edge.

Your inner muscles clench and the ache that’s been building since you walked in here swells and overlaps with a flaring jealousy when Klaw shudders and growls, filling the receptacle with another thick load of his seed.

You don’t even realize that you stood up until you feel the cool glass of the observation window beneath your palms, your breath fogging the surface as you press yourself against the barrier.

There’s still a slow, uneven cadence to the demon’s thrusts following his climax, but his gaze swiftly sharpens on you again when one of your hands drifts idly across your stomach, then lower, fingers brushing over the top button of your pants-

-and then you jump when a shrill sound interrupts you, nearly growling at the surge of frustration.

The alarm is piercing and incessant and won’t stop until you enter the demon’s room, so you return to the control panel to activate the sigil that will keep him contained while you clean and recalibrate the machine - tests having shown that a laser projection of the correct wavelength of light is just as effective as a physical binding.

Once you’re through the airlock you quickly set to working through the checklist, unhooking the mechanism that feeds into tanks in the floor and connecting it to a fresh one. You move on to cleaning the unfeeling hole that the demon fucks into day in and day out, your breath going shallow at the jealousy that continues to singe your nerves. 

His gaze stays entirely focused on you as you move around, cock swaying heavily in front of  broad thighs - still hard, always hard - the still leaking head so dark it’s nearly purple. 

The slick between your thighs has only increased since you started to work, fairly certain that you’ve soaked through your panties at this point, and when you have to pass closer to his “cage” he leans forward, nearly pressing himself against the barrier as he follows your path.

Inhaling deeply his cock twitches, more cum dripping from the tip as he ruts at the air, and you can't help but wonder if he’s picking up your frustrated arousal.

“Hurry up.” you chide yourself. “Stop getting distracted. Just finish your shit and get out.”

Kneeling down behind the machine you open the access panel and flip through the menus until you find the one that will complete the calibration, and while you’re focused on watching it cycle you don’t notice the outer door open from the hall into the observation room. 

The intern who enters must not see you where you’re kneeling on the floor, and evidently thinking that the trap has been left on in error he flips the switch to deactivate it.

When the light from the beaming sigil goes dark you pop up in alarm, the face of the intern frozen in an almost comedic grimace of horror when he finally registers that you’re staring back at him from the wrong side of the glass. 

The man reaches for the switch again but Klaw’s reflexes are faster, and before the trap can be reactivated the demon rushes the door. Slamming his shoulder against it he jams it so thoroughly they'll need to bring in special equipment to get it open again, but at this time of night it'll be hours, if you’re lucky, before a crew gets here.

Then he rounds on you.

With an oddly warm sense of detachment you think that you should feel fear as you watch the slow grin spread across his face, but the only thing you feel is a surge of hot, aching desire. 

He rumbles something you don’t understand, though the rough texture of his words is still intoxicating, and before you realize what you’re doing you’re walking towards him, pulling your shirt over your head as you move. 

Because right now you find that you want - need - to bare yourself for him, the sensation of it intense that your skin feels like it’s going to scald if you don’t get your clothes off now, and your shoes, pants and underwear quickly join the discarded pile on the floor.

Stopping in front of him you reach back to unclasp your bra, but your arms pause mid-way when Klaw’s hand reaches out, your breath hitching when he hooks a large, clawed finger beneath your chin, tilting your head up so that your eyes meet his.

You’d always assumed that his eyes were black, but this close you realize that they’re actually an impossibly deep blue, a blue that only resides along the penumbra of light and shadow where the last rays of sun reach into the depths of the ocean

You stand mesmerized as his hand dips lower, leaving behind a trail of gooseflesh as a claw trails gently down the delicate skin of your neck and chest, and then with a flick of his wrist the last scrap of fabric covering you gives way, exposing your breasts to the cool air.  

You’ve barely shrugged off the ruined garment when suddenly you’re being picked up - so, so easily - and placed on a table, swiftly reminded of how much larger and stronger he is than you, and once again dimly aware that you should feel fear, or dread, or some instinct telling you to run.

Not of the shiver of anticipation that leaves your breath hitching in your chest. 

Definitely not the wild need blooming in your core as sharp teeth ghost along the place where your blood thrums, his breath hot and his skin hotter.

His mouth continues its path downward, pausing to lick at the soft swell of your breasts, taking a moment to pull and pluck at your nipples with his lips. A pleased growl vibrates against your skin when you lean back onto your hands with a moan, arching into the swirl of his tongue around your pebbled flesh. 

It’s not long, though, before he can no longer ignore the way this increases the heated musk between your thighs, leaving behind a wet trail of saliva as his mouth travels down, seeking the place where you’re already dripping for him.

The demon's hands nearly wrap entirely around your thighs yet his touch is almost cautious as he presses you open, mesmerized by the way you unfold for him like the petals of a flower, slick and shining.

HIs eyes are heavy lidded as thick fingers begin to tease through your folds, toying with your clit, surprising you with how softly he rolls it between thumb and forefinger, a grin curving the corner of his mouth when your hips buck into his touch.

Noting your reaction he repeats the motion, gently pinching and rolling the sensitive bud until your mouth drops open and your breath is coming in sharp gasps, his dark eyes staying fixed between your legs as thick fingers coax a warm, honeyed orgasm from you, leaving you keening and startled by the slow intensity of it.

You’ve barely caught your breath when you feel his mouth suddenly envelop your mound, lapping eagerly at your release as you whine and writhe beneath his tongue, overwhelmed at the stimulation.

It’s too much, all of this is too much, but as he continues licking and suckling at your sensitive flesh you find that you’re no longer fighting it, the hum of bliss that hadn’t yet faded already building to a fresh swell, and when his lips capture your clit with a sudden fluttering pressure your body stiffens as your second orgasm flares through you, sharper and brighter than the first. 

When he finally releases you he speaks again, but through the haze of afterglow it takes a moment for it to register that this time you think that you understand him, the word seeming to appear within your mind at the same time that you hear it from his glistening lips.

“Sweet.” 

With a start you look down at him and he pauses, head tilting, curiosity knitting his heavy brows. 

Not moving his eyes from yours, his voice is a low, tentative purr when he speaks again.

“Would your sweet cunt like..more?”

Holy fuck. You can understand him.

Your thoughts spin as the shock works its way through you, the analytical part of your mind attempting to parse what the fuck is happening. Is it the increased time in his proximity? The physical contact? Whatever the mechanism, you can suddenly hear- or perhaps more accurately feel - his words, somewhere deep in your conscience.

A firm nod, then, in answer to his question, a responding pull of his lips into a slow, pleased grin.

Dipping his head Klaw licks a broad, wet stripe up your cleft, and then he’s devouring you, slavering hungrily against your sex, drool mixing with your arousal as his lips and tongue work your aching bundle of nerves until you’re gasping shallow breaths, every muscle strung taught as you hover on the edge once more.

Seeking for an anchor your hands find his curved horns, warm and leathery beneath your scrabbling fingers, and then with a rasping cry you’re coming in long, surging waves, your entire body trembling as your hips chase every flutter of pleasure on the tip of his tongue. 

Dimly you think that he must be satisfied now, that you must be satisfied, yet it seems as though with every climax you only hunger more intensely for the next. 

Once your hands release his horns and fall limp at your sides Klaw straightens up, and then wrapping his hand around his cock he starts roughly stroking himself. 

Almost without thinking your legs fall open, shaky arms pulling your knees back to expose yourself to him, knowing he can see how your soaked cunt still clenches through the last waves of your orgasm, and it’s only a few more strokes before he’s coming with a rough jerk of his hips and you gasp at the heat, thick ropes of cum streaking across your slick folds and the insides of your thighs.  

Still breathing hard, the pumping of his fist gradually slows, a hand drifting along the curve of your inner thigh as his focus comes back to you. Gathering some of the sticky mess he left between your legs he drags it through your folds, and then suddenly a thick finger is sliding into you.

Even as you gasp at the intrusion you begin to understand that he had actually done it on purpose: Biting down those claws himself because, it seems, he had been thinking about this.

The realization that it was for you leaves your entire body humming, and as your hips cant up to meet the slow, almost teasing thrusts, there’s only one word that swells and ripens in your mind, uncertain whether it’s your word or his even as it falls from your lips.

“More.”

A knowing glint flashes in his eyes at your soft plea, and almost immediately you feel a second finger slipping against you. Just teasing his fingertips at your entrance at first he lets your juices slick them before pressing into you, both fingers together nearly as thick as a human cock.

You moan as he continues to slide them in and out of you, and just as you begin to sink into the ache of it, you moan low in your throat when suddenly he’s adding a third.

The heady pressure of him working three fingers into your already stretched hole is overwhelming, and you’re unsure whether you want to throw yourself towards the sensation or resist it, your body arching into him, yet tensing and pulling away at the same time.

But then he’s pressing you down onto the table, his hand nearly spanning the width of your chest to hold you in place as his fingers continue nudging deeper.

“Where are you going, little one? Going to have to take it if you want my cock." 

As if to emphasize his words he drags his erection against the inside of your thigh with a grunted sigh, a fresh streak of precum adding to the mess that he’s already left on you.

Because of course you do, and he knows it, has known it since you stopped being able to look away from his hunched form as he fucked into his mechanical mate, a warm curiosity growing into a distracting need.

And you know that he could have taken you at any time, could have forced himself into you as soon as your clothes were a forgotten pile on the floor. But instead, he’s been preparing you to take him properly, making you come until the only thing you know is his mouth and his fingers and you’re soft and trembling and ravenous.

“God yes.” You spread your legs wide again, giving him an obscene view of where his fingers are sinking into you, slick sounds filling the room as they pump faster now.

“There you go.” He croons above you. “Made for this, hmm?" 

Any attempt at a response trails into a choked cry when he finds that soft, needy spot deep inside you, a fresh, pulsing heat spreading through your already exhausted body as he takes you apart once more. Still pinned beneath his hand you’re unable to do anything but allow it to wash through you, shaking and whimpering as he continues to drag firm, curling strokes against your clenching walls.

Leaning down Klaw presses his face into your heaving chest, and your nipples tighten and ache as he licks languorously between your breasts, his huffed breath is hot against your skin.

As your senses filter back in your hands slowly begin to move, exploring the corded muscles of his neck and shoulders, trembling fingers tugging and sliding through his hair, and then up and over his horns again.

Letting your eyes slip closed you take in the ridged curve of them, a velvety pleasure blooming in your chest when he inhales sharply, cock throbbing against your thigh when your fingers wrap around the base of them.

Finally pulling his fingers out of you he tugs you up, turning around and repositioning you so that you’re straddling his broad hips as best you can. Strong hands support you, encouraging you to slide your slick folds along his shaft, a giddy sort of panic stuttering in your chest at the sudden awareness of the size of him where he twitches between your thighs.

Desperate whines that may as well be prayers slide from your throat when he lifts you higher and you feel the thick, bulbous head of his cock nudging against your entrance, the only words falling from your lips a whispered litany of “Oh my god oh my god oh my god."

“I’m not your God, little one,” he growls softly, words distorted as if you're hearing them through a sediment of granite and blood. "But you will worship me."

“Yes. Yes..Oh fuck, please.” 

Beneath your lilting plea you dimly hear gritted curses and words of encouragement as you circle your hips, your arousal making a slick mess of his cock.

You can't help how eagerly your hips rock down, seeking more, so lost in the sensations that you're unprepared when a hard press of your hips matches his upward thrust, and the thick head of his cock suddenly ruts up into you, and when he slips past the tight ring of muscle the feral sound from deep in your chest nearly matches his.

Panting open mouthed you hold him there before rising up, slowly, slowly, letting him slip out of you before sinking down to take him back in. You feel weightless beneath the obsidian glint in his eyes as he watches you repeat the motion again, and again, his arms helping you move as you start to shake from the effort of riding just the head of his cock.

Even now there’s something warm and urgent drawing your hand lower, and you’re unable to help feeling pleased when his eyes go heavy as his gaze follows your fingers down to where they press against your clit.

“So..needy.” he rumbles. “Better than I imagined.”

“You..imagined?” You pant, attempting to sound coy, but your words are thick with lust as you continue to roll your hips, forcing yourself down further down his length. 

Your movements are becoming less controlled now, and when your fingers slip and brush against his shaft you whimper at how fucking big he feels where he's stretching you open, and how much of him is still outside of you.

You can feel every slick ridge and vein beneath your hand, and as you slide it along his length the muscles of his thighs tense and flex beneath you, his breathing going rough as your messy strokes continue.

“Look at you taking my cock,” Klaw grits, the demon’s hips beginning to stutter up in short, sharp thrusts. “Such a good little pet.” 

His words trail into a low growl that vibrates through your body as you feel a hard throb beneath your hand, and then heat.

You gasp, continuing to writhe as he spills into you, coating your inner walls with his thick seed, and almost you feel as though you could come again just from the heat of it.

Fuck, you need more of that.

Need it deeper.

Even as the pulsing beneath your fingers slows he doesn't stop moving, finally coming inside of you seeming only to have tipped his need to fevered desire. Holding you in place he thrusts up harder, dislodging your hand, and you can feel his spend leaking out of you, dripping down the insides of your thighs and slicking his still hard cock as he continues to drive deeper, no longer letting you set the pace. 

“This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” He taunts, voice still a rough half-whisper after his orgasm. “Could feel it when you watched me. Wanted me to fill your little cunt, hmm?”

“Yes.” You let out a growled sob, jealous anger surging through you. ”That..thing, doesn’t fucking deserve it.”

A flame crackles in Klaw’s eyes at your heated words, and you wonder with a jolt of awareness whether he hasn’t been just as desperate for this as you have, longing for you as he remained trapped in the torment of a cold, unfeeling machine. Driven purely by instinct, chasing his release over and over again but never being truly satisfied.

The sudden realization that you could give that to him floods you with almost as much pleasure as the agony of being filled with his cock.

You’ve barely processed the thought when you suddenly find yourself with your back once again pressed against the cool metal of the table, Klaw only pulling out of you briefly before thrusting back in, harder.

He continues a slow, controlled rhythm, both of you panting hard as you feel yourself softening around him, becoming more pliant as your body relents to every stroke until with a final arching rock of his hips your cunt is completely stretched and full, everything so impossibly tight that you can’t even clench around him.

He's never felt anything quite like you, the achingly tight grip of your pussy leaving him nearly breathless as he holds himself as deep as he can, huffing and grunting like a bull while he watches you writhe and spasm beneath him.

Then he starts to fuck you.

He tries to keep his strokes firm and measured at first, but he can’t hold back anymore and it's not long before his chest is heaving, lips curled in a snarl, and it feels as though you're being split open as he pulls you back onto his cock in time to meet every thrust. 

A scarlet thread runs through every cell of your soft animal body, stringing tighter and tighter as pleasure builds to the edge of breaking but then surging higher, a fresh ecstasy building on every peak. 

The tightening grip around your waist signals the absolute loss of his control and when you hiss at the sudden piercing bite of his claws he moves his hands to brace on the table instead, his broad body forcing your legs back towards your shoulders as he leans down over you, driving his cock as deep as he can get into your willing heat until he’s grunting and drooling above you. 

A divine bliss slides through your veins as you lie beneath him, caught between the trammel of his arms, and as you watch his base instinct take over you begin to understand that only fools could believe that lust is a sin. 

And even if it was, even if you were offered perfect grace in this moment, you know with absolute certainty that you would refuse.

An infernal dam is finally swelling to breaking as you surrender to every relentless thrust of his cock, your wailed sobs the only sounds you can make as an impossible pressure ripples through your core, and with a deep throb you suddenly feel a drenching heat as your release washes over his cock and your thighs. 

“There you go.” Klaw growls. “Make a mess for me, little one.” 

This seems to be his final undoing, and as you continue to soak his cock his thrusting goes ragged until with rough groan he’s coming deep inside you, stilling himself to keep the head of his cock pressed against the deepest part of you, making sure that you feel every hot, throbbing pulse of his cum as it fills you.

Keeping himself seated deep he rocks slow grinding thrusts into the slippery mess he’s made of his you, the lust that’s had no real outlet finally finding satisfaction in the way your clenching cunt is milking his cock, in the gentle swell of your belly as he pumps you full of his seed.

You’re a sweaty, twitching mess beneath him, and as much as you wish you could you’re unable to take all of it, can’t help how it spills out around his cock where you’re stretched and sore, how his cum and yours drips down your swollen sex to pool beneath you on the table.

His hands don't stop moving over your body, cupping your breasts, grasping at you hips, sliding over the ripe swell of you where he can feel you filled with his cock and his cum. Vaguely aware of soft grunts mixed with mumbled praise, you don’t register what he’s saying at first through the haze of euphoria.

“Going to be mine.” he rumbles, between languorous strokes. ”My little queen.” 

“Mine.”

* * * * * * *

The room is warm and flickering, silken sheets decadent beneath your fingers, your body thrumming with a heated anticipation that never seems to fade, now.

Rough hands lift your hips as your demon mounts you from behind, a hand placed firmly between your shoulder blades, pressing you down into the mattress.

A panting whine slides from your throat as he spreads you open, the thick head of his cock prodding your entrance, pleased to see you’re still dripping with his seed from the last time he filled you. And he doesn’t like leaving you empty for very long.

“Say it again, little one.” Klaw growls softly, holding himself still. Waiting.

“Yours.” 

You sigh, a smile curling around the word as he pushes into you.

“I’m yours.”

A/N: As ever, thank you for reading! This was definitely a bit outside my comfort zone, but I hope you enjoyed this filthy little foray into monster fuckery. 😊

[silusvesuius]

unleashing the same hellscape i did on my notes app here it's my nelvas thinking dump i wrote just for fun and to keep track of what i view them as up 2 this point. Might change my mind on it later on it has a lot of things written in brackets for no reason . it's like ~2500 words long which isn't much but i think i said everything i've had in my mind for now read it for fun if you like to have fun leik me :) And talvas :) And nelothxP

retyping what i said in the tags of those last text posts and rearranging those thoughts a bit: in my train of thought that's been going steady since early 2024 i'm almost certain that neloth might see talvas as the epitome of being morally Clean (before that changes because of neloth's influence over him) and generally pure as a person. pure not used in the Pervert way; neloth is just a veeery big fan of talvas having absolutely no backbone and being very docile when it comes to him. which is r expected traits 4 someone if they find themselves under neloth's thumb as an apprentice, but it being written that he isn't at all catty and defiant to his face is cute. all talvas manages to do is shit talk neloth to others and pray neloth doesn't find out he meant the things he said but also can’t help feeling bad about it, even though neloth doesn't and wouldn't care, if he found out. neloth is happy with being an obnoxious & disgusting person. truly.. him growing obsessed with talvas' docile and innocent nature doesn't necessarily have to add up to him wanting to Taint or Ruin him (and if it happens ((it does)) it's not done on purpose, neloth can't hold that much control and power of his actions in that specific department). he encounters difficulties when he realizes he actually wants that Elven Twink.. it's too far gone to fix anything after he's tampered with talvas' patience and stability, and even then he can't be honest with talvas about anything, because he still wants to hold a great deal of power over him (neloth essentials for survival).

Might be the type to just want talvas to magically(haha) think it's okay that his wizard master desires him and expect that energy right back without talvas actually acknowledging it because it'd make neloth feel insanely cringy and embarrassed.. humiliated.. EVEN. but that's just in a deep deep dark corner of his mind, he isn't stupid. when trying to gain 'access' to his apprentice ("*His* apprentice" is also kinda funny way of viewing his mind too. just cause talvas is working as an apprentice under him neloth probably already feels a concerning sense of ownership over him that makes him feel very good) he can't even make the signs of interest be apparent to talvas because he's insanely inept at being Soft and honest for obvious reasons. he can tell what possibly could make talvas warm up to him even after he treats him like shit for eons but there's no way he's bringing himself to do it (change is embarrassing, especially in their formal dynamic, and especially at his age). so it's a half-assed attempt (actually he's trying his hardest🙄) to try and make talvas be (at least) less afraid of him. not that talvas has any other place that we know of that he "Belongs" to, he just sticks with neloth regardless of anything. neloth watching him as he sleeps ensues . Guys what do i do to make my apprentice let me hit because all of the eye contact i do with him while gripping his arm or petting his knee isn't helping. 

if we were to go back to how that spark is ignited in neloth swamp of a heart, brain… idk, it has to be when he realizes talvas' capability of forgiveness and 'Sucking it up' instead of lashing out at neloth after .. anything, but perhaps physical abuse in particular. neloth a 100% has absolutely no problem putting his hands on anyone, especially someone he sees so often, such as talvas. not that talvas really annoys him (his clear and voiced obedience pleases neloth as anyone can tell), but he just doesn't see it as too much of a big deal. the physical mistreatment that happens once in a blue moon isn't intense enough to scare off talvas for sure anyways. neloth is a bitch so all he can so is smack him at the back of the head (talvas finds it very normal) and slap him if he's feeling festive (something talvas finds kinda extreme but not that it happens often. he sometimes feels like he deserves it, or that neloth is warranted to do as he pleases. he tosses around it being justified or pitying himself, though). May be possible that neloth would realize he Like Likes talvas once he slaps him, mayhaps, for the first time, but talvas' immediate reaction to being treated like that is just sadness mixed with feeling shame for tearing up/crying in front of someone he respects *bishoujo sparkles sfx*. talvas is a delicate soul so he can't hold warranted emotions like that for long, and even tho it's expected of him to be making eye contact w/ neloth in a setting like that, he wouldn't be able 2 bring himself to do it because looking at neloth would make him wanna burst out in tears like a weeeee baby. Booo hooo.. talvas is the 19th century (4th era) damsel that runs out of the ball in tears after no young cavalier invited her to dance. watch this bleed into the most awkward and silent week of neloth's entire life because talvas doesn't even really feel like speaking to him or looking at him, but neloth doesn't wanna brute force the usual respectful etiquette out of him cus he thinks that's just gonna make talvas hurl himself down on some rough rocks at the seashore. Good thing talvas is very spineless and forgiving (especially in relation to neloth… i mean.. who r YOU to not forgive him) so that might just last a day or two. the hurt always stays tho. neloth this is why talvas doesn't wanna smash you.. you might've made some conclusions about what elven twink you like but talvas is just even more scared of you now. was your Pervert awakening worth it. and even if we do backflips and jump thru the point where everything is too far gone for either of them to go back, dude is still too afraid to make out with his apprentice. Deserve. but why though because talvas wouldn't refuse. for what reason? we may never know

^^^ this makes me feel like i love seeing characters i reaaaalllly love (elenwen and talvas in this case) as enigmas in situations where they're confronted with something so ""Intimate"". elenwen's stance on this is final tho cause she's a grown ass woman and there's no way you could reshape her brain. ulfric left her mind plane in SHAMBLES. talvas has more right (in the literal sense) to be erratic or inconsistent with his actions. maybe he likes to be desired. Also i strongly believe that talvas has probably never been in love (for any reason rly but it's mostly him not having actual time for it + not seeing it as something that is important to him at that point in his life)… i want neloth to be his first experience with Love so that it ruin his view on it forever. can't get myself to say he'd be in love with neloth at any point though. From his standpoint it really should feel empowering and 'nice' that neloth wants him in many ways (ew).. cause that's a man with status.. power.. ability to do anything rly . talvas is in no condition to be playing mind games with him or anything tho so don't get that idea. he's not strong enough of a person to be Tricking anyone or to be Playing with anyone's feelings. neloth would be immune to that, too. neloth can just kinda tell talvas is too good and … UNTAINTED. talvas wants to see the best in everyone. too bad he genuinely detests you, neloth.. so: he doesn't actually love neloth but wouldn't be happy to see his tombstone either. SO (PART TWO): if you time it right he wouldn't be against getting Freakkkkyyyy with you okay?but no promises

even if @ some point talvas develops indistinct feelings towards neloth cause of neloth's own incessant weird-mild advances it wouldn't have to mean he just likes old men permanently now. actually it kinda does. i can sorta feel it rearranging his braincells and making him unable to normally interact with people in his age range. he probably already had a hard time talking to others in hopes of developing a friendship just cause he's timid but after neloth's nonstop abuse and Accidental romance mind games he morphs into a whole new type of guy. it's hard to notice at first but he'd probably just start to leech off of neloth's prissy and unbearable personality in a natural course of things + neloth is the only person he sees and talks to on the regular pretty much. < this can just be reworded as just the cycle of abuse and whatnot. if he notices an opening in the abilities and Smarts of another person, especially someone his age/younger, he will automatically see them as umm…stupid. and also insult your abilities to your face if he snaps. he strikes me as the type to be afraid to say what he really thinks (another consequence of being glued to neloth all the time when all talvas does is act like he totally respects anything he says) and gets scared if anything slips out his mouth but is proud in letting the "Truth" be known because he already figured out you're a lesser being than him. he's just cloning neloth's verbal abuse braincells though he would never put his hands on someone. his desire to be mean and see himself as superior stems from neloth always disparaging him obviously.. talvas 4 that reason is very self conscious of his abilities and doesn't rly think he's all that useful or talented. his self doubt then would play into how he doesn't know when to believe what others are saying to and about him.. i wanna imagine that talvas is very oblivious to neloth's weirdo status just cause he partly doesn't even want that thought to cross his mind. i bet everyone but him sees it and finds it gross😕 but nobody in the vicinity is strong enough to tell neloth that he should be ashamed LMFAO. if you would try and even hint to talvas that it's happening he'd never take you seriously and just get mad. he's protective of neloth's image more than neloth himself is; not that people knowing neloth has abnormal sodomistic inclinations toward his apprentice would make his public image worse than it already is (everyone already thinks he's weird so it's not shocking at all) but talvas still wouldn't wanna hear it cause he thinks it's just false. maybe he's just ashamed that he's being brought into the whole thing. also because he doesn't wanna face the reality EJI23JRIO32KJ Well talvas when neloth makes an actual move on you don't say that we didn't warn you.. we're all waiting till neloth's status as an obvious apprentice-pervert becomes obvious to you

even if he's willingly ignorant of the fact he still thinks of the 'accusations' a lot when he feels like it. and unknowingly begins feeling even more uncomfortable in neloth's presence. heart starts beating faster and everything. neloth could come up to him meters away and talvas would still cover his mouth in realization and be like "i knew it… the DB told me but i didn't wanna believe it …..😦 so you really do like young men … and you're in love with me ..😨" *Neloth wakes up from this fever dream drenched in sweat* < neloth doesn't want (obvi) talvas to react that way at any point because he himself would just get scared so they'd just be staring at each other wide eyed. but talvas jumping into his advances isn't what he wants either (that'll also scare him). neloth is still relying on talvas' politeness to let him do as he pleases. but it is impossible for talvas to let it slide without questioning anything regardless so🤷‍♀️ take your few Ls and move on. neloth just wants talvas to sit on his lap. wants to spoonfeed him soup. he's so romantic. he also wants to(sniper on rooftop blows my head to bits). neloth is actually a pretty touchy feely person when he's feeling Frisky (=deranged about talvas). I'm certain his favorite part of talvas' body is his legs. talvas has beautiful young man skipping leg day legs. so nothing special at all but neloth wants to touch them lol.. let your master wizard squeeze your calves and he might just be occupied enough like a kid playing with a fidget toy to not abuse you verbally for 3 seconds. as i said befoar neloth is unpleasant with his touch because he doesn't know how to be soft + doesn't even want it to necessarily feel very 'rewarding' as to not pamper talvas. petting talvas kinda turns into a nervous habit for himself and an instrument of some sort of Reassurance 4 talvas when he wants him to know he’s not mad, for example. non-vebal confirmation. talvas still finds it weird but thinks it’s a charm point too. neloth wouldn't even be against touching him familiarly in front of others but only in a "older male figure" ways ex. touching his knee or putting his hand at the back of his neck (talvas sees it as some sort of disciplinary tactic though). physical touch that matches neloth's age and is enough for it to be seen as not necessarily romantic / overtly weird. 

there'ssssss no saving talvas after such a powerful person gets his hands on him. any will to leave would leave HIM either out of fear or out of attachment and neloth wouldn't just let him go (Alive at least) since he knows the things he knows. if talvas were to escape i'm a Truther of him not feeling in place and wanting to go back cause it's the stability that he's used to. but tbh if he encounters neloth on accident anywhere he's gonna start running. I was drinking tea while writing this and started choking on it i just nearly died writing this are youhappy. anyways, nelvas is a never-ending abusive relationship that doesn’t even have High highs, all it has is low lows. neloth always mistreats talvas for any reason but is never genuinely kind from the heart or out of remorse. .. hmm……yeah. I forgot to type this back out from my posts tags > talvas might just start viewing neloth as fuck crazy and demented after he Finally notices at least one molecular sign of gay attention from him . like ‘Oh wow Master Neloth obviously doesn’t get any female attention or anything cus he’s a sick fuck why does he have to search for it from me Can varona take the hit for me 🥺 *sees her dead body being dragged by the DB* hmm i guess not well i’ll figure something out i guess’ (he doesn’t) also the dialogue talvas has with varona after he steals neloth’s book trying to conjure some bs up will always be so cute to me he’s so defensive and afraid of neloth finding out. Him trying to decipher neloth’s handwriting is cute TOO ik their 19th century love letters to each other would go crazy and make sense to anyone but each other but i’m not gonna talk about 19th century girl talvas x neloth rn it’s too much . what ever. i think i’m done thank you i should just go back to drawing them as grecian pottery red figures or smthj Fun stats for you 4 getting to the end: times the word ‘abuse’ is used: 6

[yanderepuck]

It's this more somno?? Yes. At this rate I might as well just write everyone with this kink. Who knows who is next. Probably Theo

Anyway, please enjoy it you lil sluts~

You had been drinking at dinner. Maybe you had a little too much but you were having fun and your glass kept getting filled. Faust and Charles were drinking the same amount so it's not like you were getting carried away. Even Vlad had a drink.

You shuffled your way upstairs into Charles' room. You somehow managed to get your clothes off, and put one of his shirts on before falling onto his bed.

Charles was cleaning up and didn't come up for a little later. When he comes into his room he sees you there, laying on your stomach and holding one of his many pillows.

He gets on the bed after changing and lays down beside you. You don't even stir as the bed shifts. He smiles at you as he pushes your hair behind your ear to see your face better.

"You're so cute," he realizes you are wearing one of his shirts and slides a hand down your back, and setting it on your ass. "And so vulnerable," he purrs and moves his shirt up just enough.

He scoots closer and moves his hand down. "Not even wearing underwear~"

His fingers graze along your folds before sliding into you. Two fingers to start. You moan when he first slid in but then for the most part stayed quiet as he played with you.

"It's not as fun when you don't squirm," he adds another finger and you let out another muffled moan. His fingers spread and curl inside you, pumping in and out.

After a few minutes of playing with you like a toy, he takes his fingers out and sits up. He takes off the clothes he just puts on and spreads your legs, getting between them.

He strokes his hardened cock a few times while looking at the view in front of him. You're so pretty laying there, you're basically begging for it.

With one swift thrust he slides into you perfectly, moaning louder than you. He leans over you, his arms keeping him propped up and he starts out with just rocking his hips.

Unsure of how easily you would wake up, it takes him a bit to pick up the pace but once he starts he's not slowing down. He gets your legs to spread more so he can get deeper.

You spill out moans here and there, but nothing like the moans Charles is letting out. He feels like he's never been so deep in you. If that alcohol didn't get him drunk then this feeling surely is.

He lays on top of you, putting his arms under you so that he can hold onto your shoulders as he ruts into you, holding you in place.

He feels you cum on him, it just allows him to move faster.

You seem to start to stir awake so he slows down just a bit and let's go off your shoulders to pet your hair, talking to you smoothly. "Go back to sleep, princess. I'm almost done."

He kisses your cheek and waits for you to stop moving before he picks up the pace again. "Good girl~" he praises your passed out body.

As much as he loves hearing your moans and screaming, something about you laying here almost motionless gets him off. It's like he's about to be as rough as he wants without worrying about hurting you.

"Ahh fuck, princess ~" he pants feeling himself reaching his climax.

In a few more thrusts he releases a load deep into you. He rocks his hips to ride his high, making sure he fills you as much as he can.

Slowly, he lets go of your shoulders and starts to sit up again. He looks at the red marks he's left on your shoulders hoping they won't bruise.

He looks down, a hand on your hip. And watches his cock slide out of your dripping hole. You begin to move again, reacting to becoming empty all of a sudden.

He lays down next to you, softly panting as he gets his pants back on. Before getting too comfortable, he fixes your shirt and finally pulls the blanket up to cover you both.

~~

Tag list~

@kissmetwicekissmedeadly @fang-and-feather @xalxtusxiao @namine-somebodies-nobody @ana-thedaydreamer @evil-quartett @ameyoruakiikemenseries @yrenesposts @p1nkpandomium @tele86 @damekathearasi @lokis-laugh @candied-boys @breadmercury @xenokiryu @nightghoul381 @faust-bite

[doakarma]

OOC :

HEADCANONS

(that I will be using on this blog and that I have in general. I’ve already been using them but I wanted to make a list. A lot of projecting is involved but I won’t tell you which is which)

• Calls everyone Mister until he knows them and then quickly moves to Nicknames.

• gets attached to people/things he cares about

• will eat anything he can vaguely perceive as food.

• doesn’t like talking about his past

• very fidgety.

• Doesn’t speak very much when he’s nervous

• Likes : Cats (and animals in general), learning new things and being outside.

• Dislikes : Being inside too long, isolation, being the centre of attention and loud/crowded spaces.

• has nightmares sometimes (typically for a week or so at a time then they go away for a bit)

• Likes being useful and tries to help out when he can.

• Acts like a kid when excited / has a childlike wonder about new things.

• doesn’t know many normal world things and can get confused but he knows far too much stuff from the underground (like mafia stuff yk)

• Transmasc (in @oscarsgallery’s words “you removed one of his eyes might as well remove his balls”) they/he

Specific to Doa Karma BLOG: (here)

- thinks of ( @shopping-for-a-russian-rat and @fedya-the-rat-god ) Nikolai and Fyodor as his dads. @the-grey-wolf-of-the-doa as his sister.

- Has absolutely no issues being Sarcastic and annoying to Oscar and basically only him ( @oscarsgallery )

- he has a pet duck John.

- has Nicknames for everyone ( @shopping-for-a-russian-rat Nik. @fedya-the-rat-god Fyo. @the-caged-jester Niko and others I can’t remember rn)

Specific to ADA karma BLOG @currentlyeatingrocks

- Does not trust how often Fukuzawa ( @fukuzawa-armeddaddyagency ) gives him food. He happy about it but finds it strange.

- keeps eating things out the garden and getting sick

- very prone to random pains (after his encounter with fyodors ability)

——————-

(Sorry to everyone who got tagged)

- a lot/most of these were inspired by @karma-brainrot (sorry for the tag- just wanted to give u credit) and I will maybe add more later we’ll see.

[bradshawsbitch]

whiskey sour | bradley bradshaw x f!reader

disclaimer: this fic is my contribution to @callsign-phoenix 's 1K celebration! I had the prompt 'bradley sour' and figured I'd give a little slow burn fic a whirl! fun fact, I used to bartend - and my absolute favourite drink to make and devour was whiskey sours.

warnings: afab!reader, fem!reader, no use of y/n, pet names, slow burn, naval inaccuracies, bradley being a lil sad, mentions of alcohol - consuming and making alcoholic beverages.

description: you bartend at the hard deck to bradley's great content, until you don't anymore.

tagging: @roosterforme @theharddeck @mak-32 @hangmanbrainrot

word count: ~4K.

◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇

“Pour 2 oz of whiskey or bourbon in to a shaker,”

It had been closer to 10 years now. 10 years of snippets of life shared with one of the best people you’d ever had the luck to meet. The first time your paths crossed, was your first shift as a bartender at the Hard Deck. A young man, who didn’t quite possess the confident stance he held nowadays, with a form that was a little slimmer, and a clean shaven face, walked into the bar. The first time you laid eyes on Bradley Bradshaw was when he was first called to Top Gun, when he was only in his twenties.

He’d approached the bar on a slow day, and his hesitant way of asking for something to drink almost had you asking him for his ID. He’d been a bit unsure as you asked if he’d like a beer that you’d seen his mates getting earlier. Bradley had furrowed his brow, gently rubbing the tip of his nose, (something you now knew was a tell that he was hesitant or nervous) and he looked almost resolved to reluctantly telling you yes before you cut him off.

“Or, I could make you something else. Something a bit tastier than beer,” honestly, to this day, you’ll never know why you wanted to put him at ease. Why you wanted to please him, why you’d rather see a smile on his handsome face than a frown.

“Make me something else? You mean like a drink?” there was hesitance laced within those words. A small smirk was tugging on the corners of your lips, you were quite sure he was hesitant about bringing a drink back to his pals - afraid your version of a drink might hold a tiny umbrella and tonnes of fruit.

“Not to worry, sailor. I’ll make you something very classy. Manly, if you will,” he chuckled at your joke, feeling his shoulders relax a bit as you smiled at him. He didn’t correct you that time, and it took you quite a while to tell the difference between sailors, aviators and other personnel. 

“What did you have in mind?” His voice was so soothing. A hint of a rasp, his tenor enticing you entirely. Before a flush of warmth could overtake your body you replied steadily;

“A whiskey sour of course. It’s sort of my specialty,” he nodded, smiling softly at you in affirmation of your choice, though he later told you he’d never had one before, but he didn’t want to tell you because he figured he’d embarrassed himself enough already. 

“Add lemon juice to the shaker,”

That first whiskey sour had Bradley’s amber eyes widening, twinkling in delight at the taste. Your eager smile urged him to tell you how good it was, and how he appreciated you taking the time to make him one.

Approximately a week later he had come back, bashfully asking you to make “that drink” again, because he’d forgotten the name. You’d smiled broadly, and he’d backtracked a little saying he didn’t expect you to remember his order, the tips of his ears turning red. Reassuring him, you told him the name of the drink before making it a second time, out of many more to come. 

Those weeks that Bradley was stationed in San Diego for Top Gun were some of your best in your twenties. Bradley had invited you to various beach hang outs with his friends, and the two of you formed a close friendship. You were the first one his eyes sought out as he entered the Hard Deck, every time he had the fortune to stroll inside. 

“Add simple syrup to taste,”

When Bradley at long last was ordered to be stationed elsewhere, he visited you one last time, and you could hardly keep your tears at bay as he entered, saying that he’d be ordering his last whiskey sour from you for some time, his khaki uniform making him look rather handsome, his button-up short sleeved top hanging off his shoulders, the sleeves moving as he tipped the tumbler you’d placed in front of him to his plump lips. 

“I’ll miss you, Bradley,” you’d confessed bashfully, and his wide smile had momentarily rendered you breathless.

“I’ll miss you too, sugar. I hope I’ll be able to come back soon to enjoy more of these,” he replied, smiling softly at you. 

As it was, Bradley wouldn’t come back soon. It would be two years before he entered the Hard Deck again. 

Truthfully, he half expected to see a random stranger behind his favorite bar. After all, he wouldn’t expect you to hang around for him or anyone else - surely you’d moved on to become something else, or took your bartending skills elsewhere. But to his great delight, as he opened the door to the bar, he could see your form behind the bartop. You were busy talking to a woman with black hair, polishing a glass with a rag before hanging it above your head. He smiled at the sight, warmth filling his stomach at the sight of you. You’d changed your hair color, and he couldn’t help but miss your original one - even though you looked beautiful either way. 

As he took in your form, you looked up as the door closed behind him. Your beautiful face lit up with joy as you saw him, eyes filled with surprise and relief. It made Roosters' heart stutter, the way you lit up when you saw him. He hadn’t had anyone looking at him like that for many years.

“Rooster!” you were already leaning against the bartop, reaching for a shaker and a bottle of bourbon you knew he preferred his sours based on. You’d used Bradley to perfect your drink, and switched it up every so often to pick up what he preferred. 

“Sugar,” he sighed happily, leaning against the bartop, drinking in your happy demeanor. “I’m very glad to find you here,” he confessed with that raspy tenor that you had missed so much. 

“Where else would I be?” you smiled at him as you worked “I won’t be shipped out anytime soon,” Bradley chuckled at your joke, only feeling the slightest sting of hurt somewhere deep in his chest at your comment. 

“You look good, sugar,” Bradley murmured, leaning closer to you over the bartop. Your movements stuttered momentarily, before you picked up a scoop of ice to add to the shaker. As you poured his drink over ice in a tumbler in silence, he wondered if he had overstepped some invisible boundary after not having seen you for 752 days.

“You’ve grown a mustache,” you replied, motioning to the sparse hair that he’d tried to grow out for a few months now. He chuckled and nodded “Quite right,” as you added some finishing touches; he soon held the tumbler in his hands, a sigh of contentment slipping past his lips as he tasted the perfect balance of sweet, sour and bourbon. 

“Sugar, no one makes these like you. They taste awful in Lemoore,” he wrinkled his nose as he recalled a time he’d been out with his squadron in a pub off base, your face had popped up in his inebriated mind, and he’d found that he missed you, your conversations, and your delicious drinks. He’d ordered one in hopes of being enveloped by that comforting, warm and fuzzy feelings your drinks filled him with. However, he’d been met with a drink that had far too much sour in it, and the usage of a cheap whiskey had further made the drink taste like a cold shower more than the comfort he so yearned for. 

That one night was the only Bradley could spare you before he disappeared again, leaving you at the Hard Deck to prepare drinks for other patrons. None of them invoking the feelings Bradley did in you. 

“Carefully separate yolk and eggwhite, before adding the white to the shaker,”

Another 3 years passed. You’d entered a relationship during that time, though you were quite certain it wouldn’t last too long. You’d been enamored by their wit and easy-going nature - but as the relationship progressed, it had gotten increasingly obvious that this person had never had to lift a finger for themselves in their life. Which would be fine, if they did not expect you to do their every bidding. The pressure of constantly being at the beck and call of a partner, the pressure of making sure groceries were bought, the apartment cleaned, clothes washed and presents bought for friends and family, making sure rent was paid on time by working long hours at the Hard Deck - you were at the end of your rope. 

Sometimes your thoughts would linger on the memories of Bradley. His lovely tenor, his easy manners and his natural charm. You missed seeing the bashful face that you had first encountered five years ago. And as you ended your short lived relationship, you couldn’t help but think of amber eyes.

“Dry shake the ingredients to work up a nice foam,”

Bradley wouldn’t exactly say he was especially lonely. He had friends that he loved to hang out with, his co-workers had at this point in time formed a tight knit squadron that had each other’s back at any point in time. He thrived in their company, feeding off of the energy of their happy smiles at his jokes and their general existence. However, when he closed the door to his dorm it all stopped. He was reminded that at the end of the day, he was awfully alone. No one to call if he had a rough day, no one to call for advice.

It made Bradley reflect upon the past couple of years, his fingers running slowly through his short curls. Sadly enough, there had only been one constant, one person who always greeted him with glittering eyes and a sunny smile. Always happy to see him, always ready with that shaker, already knowing what he was going to order. She always asked how he’d been, and genuinely seemed relieved to see him alive any time he walked into the Hard Deck. It always made him feel fuzzy and warm, but perhaps that was the liquor she supplied him. He hadn’t seen her in about four years now. Which meant that the first time he met her would be about six years ago. Furrowing his brows, he sat up straighter. It couldn’t have been six years already. And Bradley had never worked up the courage to ask her for her number, ask her on a date, or even ask if she wanted to grab a coffee just as friends outside of the Hard Deck. He felt ashamed. Why had he never thought to ask for your number? He was determined to get it, as he was about to be shipped off to San Diego for a brief period of time. 

Bradley’s feet had barely gotten used to the San Diego soil before he rushed towards the bar. What if you weren’t there? The heavy door of the Hard Deck swung open, and he frantically looked around, trying to locate you. And there you were, half turned away from him as you tried to reach to change a lightbulb that had gone out.

“Sugar,” he sighed out, relief washing through his entire being as he drank in your appearance. You’d changed just slightly, the softness of youth slowly leaving you, as it had him too. He’d spent more time in the gym lately, to keep his aging body fit for flight. His khaki uniform now strained against his chest slightly, and there was no longer any room for the sleeves to move much. As his whispered nickname reached your ears, he could see you turn, see your surprised look morphe into a look of shock, of wonder, and ultimately of the greatest joy he’d seen.

“Rooster!” you laughed, and Bradley almost felt like crying hearing that lovely sound accompanying his callsign. Before he knew what was happening, you had hurried towards him, throwing your arms around his neck and embracing him hard. He’d only received a handful of hugs from you before this, but it had been so long. So, so long since he’d inhaled your sweet scent, seen the light in your eyes, witnessed how they lit up, been so long since he’d felt your body pressed tight against his chest.

“Sugar,” he murmured again, holding you close against him, swaying slightly back and forth before releasing you. As he looked down at you, he watched as your eyes roamed over him, taking in his slightly changed form.

“Rooster, you–” you paused, frowning slightly “Where did my Rooster go?” you hadn’t meant to sound so sad, but gone was your lankier Rooster, hair a little darker and mustache a little thinner. Now he was… big. There was no other word for it. His physique was impeccable, and his facial hair had finally thickened just to his liking. He was more tanned, and his hair lighter. It took your breath away.

“I’m right here, Sugar, I promise” Bradley smiled softly, not wanting you to be sad, but completely understanding your confusion at seeing him after so long.

“Are… are you staying long?” the tinge of hope in your voice broke his heart, and he had to avert his gaze to the floor to avoid being hit with your disappointment. His hand reached up to rub at the tip of his nose, brows furrowed as he shook his head. 

“Afraid not,” he replied solemnly, looking into your eyes again. He was surprised to find them soft, with an unreadable emotion swirling in their depths. 

“Well then, I better start on that whiskey sour then?” you smiled, softly letting your fingers grace against his, gingerly grabbing ahold of two of his fingers to lead him to the bar. 

Bradley smiled as he watched you flurry around the bar, hands instinctively grabbing bottles without looking at them - confident in your having sorted the bottles at the start of your shift, knowing where you’d put everything as you prepped, making sure it was all mise en place. You talked as you crafted his drink, telling him stories of what he’d missed in San Diego whilst he was gone. Bradley in turn updated you on his life as the evening came. After a couple of drinks, Rooster was enveloped in that warm fuzzy feeling that he had first gotten the moment your arms had enveloped his neck. He never wanted to leave this bar. Never wanted to leave you again. 

“Sugar,” he mumbled as he noticed the time on his watch. 

“Duty calls?” you replied sadly, offering him a weak smile as he rose. Should he ask you? Was it stupid of him to think you’d want to keep in touch with him as he was stationed elsewhere? Were you committed to someone else? Surely you were. But as he took in the sadness in your eyes, he noticed that one unreadable emotion again. He figured he had to try to hop off the perch.

“Could I… I mean, I miss you when I’m not here. And, well– if you wouldn’t mind of course,” fuck, he was rambling - but as he chanced a glance at your face, he saw nothing but softness, you didn’t seem annoyed, didn’t seem to mind that he was fumbling his words - as he paused, you smiled one of your comforting smiles and he soldiered on “Could I maybe have your number?” He finally managed to breathe out. The enormous grin that broke out on your face was almost reward enough for him, but as you scribbled your number on a piece of paper and gave it to him, he swore he could dance with joy.

“Can I give you a hug before you go, Bradley?” you whispered, and you blinked quickly to get rid of the burning sensation in your eyes. Roosters’ heart leapt, not only at the fact that you wanted to see him off with a hug, but also how his name rolled off of your lips so beautifully. His name. Not Rooster. Bradley. His heart clenched painfully in his chest, it had been a while since his name had been said with such care.

“Of course, Sugar. C’mere,” he murmured, opening his arms to envelop you in a long embrace, lips gently resting at the top of your head as he inhaled your sweet scent. And then he was gone. Again. This time hurt more than the others, you noted, as the dull ache of seeing Bradley leave again started up deep within your chest. 

“When you’ve worked up a nice foam, add ice to the shaker and shake again”

The four years that passed since that exchange went by a little easier, perhaps because now you and Rooster texted, called and facetimed another. Not as frequently as you would like, but you understood that Rooster was busy advancing in his career, going on long missions where he didn’t have or wasn’t allowed cell service. He checked in with you when he could, and you made a point of only speaking of the good parts in your life. The funny stuff that happened at the Hard Deck, the new drink recipe you tried. You didn’t mention that you’d saved up enough to try your hand at an education, how tired you were all the time as your days were filled with lectures, seminars and studying - nights filled with drunk aviators and sailors, and somewhere in between you’d find some time to sleep.

As the tenth anniversary of meeting Rooster was coming up, you had finally graduated, and you were now three weeks away from leaving the Hard Deck to pursue the job of your dreams. You’d been thrilled that you’d found a position in San Diego, near the apartment you rented. Rooster had MIA from your texts for a while, and you figured that maybe he didn’t care too much for his bartender anymore. Perhaps he had finally found a better whiskey sour. 

As you cut up limes and lemons, preparing for the Friday night ahead, Penny approached you with a smile, carrying a large box of new beers. 

“Oh, is that the new IPAs?” you questioned with a smile, and Penny nodded in affirmative, “I’ve got them Pen, you’ve been working since this morning. Go take a break,” Penny gave you a thankful smile, before patting your shoulder affectionately and making her way out back. 

As Penny left, you heard the front door open. Shit, usually the aviators and sailors were literate, and heeded the sign of the door that held your open hours. 

“Hey, I’m sorry we haven’t opened yet,” you started, not looking away from your cutting board as you heard feet shuffle against the wooden floors.

“Not even for me, Sugar?” eyes snapping up, jaw slacking, you took in the form of Rooster. If it was possible, he’d gotten even broader. His jawline harder and sharper, arms and shoulder filling a hawaiian print button-up so nicely your breath hitched in your throat. It had been so long. You’d wanted him for so long. You weren’t sure you could handle him leaving you right away again. You wanted time. Time to spend with him. Tears burned in your eyes as you took in his form, and you could tell he felt slightly alarmed not to be greeted with your usual happiness. Wiping your tears, you plastered a grin onto your lips as his callsign rolled off your lips in a sigh. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Bradley murmured as you walked into his embrace, relaxing against his chest and reveling in his scent. A short laugh shook your frame as you looked up at him with a small smile.

“Yeah, well - it might well be the last time you walk in here to see me behind the bar,” you shrugged, and Bradley stiffened in your arms, his eyes widening. “No,” he whispered, anguished almost that the only constant in his adult life would be leaving him. “You’re not leaving?” he asked, forgoing adding ‘me’ at the end of the sentence.Your soft smile didn’t placate him as it usually did, and he only found comfort as your palm rose to cradle his scarred cheek. 

“I’m afraid so, Rooster.” you confirmed “I’ve been working towards a degree, and I graduated a while back. I’ve got three weeks left at the Hard Deck before I start my dream job,” Bradley’s head was spinning. How did he not know this? Sure, he had your number but you’d only told him of the fun shenanigans that you got up to at the bar. That was when it hit him that he never asked. He never asked for anything else. He wanted to cry and scream, pull his hair and kick himself hard. Why would he take your presence here for granted? 

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d graduated? Sugar… I’m sorry I didn’t make it,” he was so confused, he barely knew what he was saying. He was spiraling, thoughts of how lonely he’d be after training at Top Gun again if you weren’t here spinning endlessly in his mind.

You were silent, taking in the haunted look that shone in Bradley’s amber eyes. A look you hadn’t seen before, and one you were sure you never wanted to see again.

“Bradley, I’m- I’m sorry,” you didn’t know what for, but it seemed to rouse Rooster “No, sweetheart… sugar, no. I just,” he trailed off. You smiled at his rambling, and noticed he’d reached up to rub his nose again - that got a giggle out of you and Rooster furrowed his brows before a small smile tugged on the corner of his lips. 

“I’m not leaving you, Rooster,” you clarified “Couldn’t get rid of me if you tried,” you added “Now, will you be leaving me tomorrow?” your voice had gone almost hard, as if steeling yourself for the answer. Bradley shook his head. 

“Nope. Stationed here for at least a month to train for a mission,” a gasp threatened to fly past your lips at the revelation. He’d be here. For four weeks. That’s the longest he’d stayed since that first time ten years ago. 

“Well, then you’ll catch my last day,” you smiled at him, leaning in closer to him. 

“Can I kiss you?” Bradley blurted out as your thumb had started to gently caress his cheeks, that warm, fuzzy feeling overcoming him again. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t figured out that that feeling hadn’t come from the liquor you were serving him, it was just you. 

“I’ve only been waiting ten years,” you smiled, clutching his shirt between your other hand. Bradley chuckled, his face inching closer to yours, his breath fanning over your face before his warm lips connected with yours. He felt like home, warm, inviting, comforting. Bradley sighed in content, tightening his hold on you, not wanting to let you go just yet.  

“And serve over ice.”

[nicobicobee]

Mephistopheles x GN! Reader

Part one

Content: mc is implied to be shorter than Mephisto, mc likes sweeeeeeets, use of a pet name(?) (Little lamb), some suggestive content, angry kisses <3

A/N: my asks are open for requests! I don’t do anything past suggestive as that is all I’m comfortable with! As of rn it’s just obey me! I FORGOT TO ADD TAGS AGAIN

“Hey, I’m here!” You called through the newspaper club’s room to get Mephisto’s attention. He came striding through shortly after hearing your call. You finished off the chocolate bar you had been munching on and threw the wrapper in the trash.

“So, little lamb, where were we?” Mephisto asked, looking down at you with that cocky grin that made you want to punch him. You might have, but that little voice in your head telling you ‘that’s probably a bad idea’ won.

“Number one, ew,” you started, licking some melted chocolate off your thumb, “Number two, you know exactly where we were.”

“Okay, MC,” the way he said your name sent a shiver down your spine but you remained strong. You were not falling to this asshole’s so-called charm, “Tell me, what makes you crack? Would it perhaps be if I tasted that chocolate off of your lips?” He tilted your head up with his thumb and forefinger.

Your heart sped up in your chest and you gazed up at him, licking your lips nervously. Curse that voice.

Steeling yourself, you internally slapped yourself in the face. If he got the upper ground, he would never let you live it down.

“Go ahead,” you smirked, looking up at him defiantly.

Mephisto seemed shocked, his mouth opening to say something but no words coming out.

“If you want a taste, then be my guest.” Your look was a challenge, daring him to do it lest he be caught with an empty threat. He couldn’t have that.

Mephisto leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, much to your surprise. He didn’t linger for long, pulling away and licking his lips. “That does taste wonderful, but I must say you would taste even better.”

Holy shit this guy’s good.

Your defiant gaze finally slipped from his and a proud grin spread across his face. You wanted to strangle him but killing him would be too much of a hassle.

So you decided to one-up him.

You yanked him down by his tie as you had done the day before, pressing your lips to his in a kiss much more aggressive than the one he had offered you.

Mephisto’s hands moved to rest on your waist, his head tilting and slotting his mouth so perfectly with yours. He was ready for this, and it made you angrier.

He tasted like sweet, sweet coffee. He smelled like the pages of a newspaper, and you found that fitting.

Your hands rested on his shoulders as your lips moved against his, eyes finally fluttering closed.

You knew you probably shouldn’t be doing this. You hated this guy, and would beat yourself up about it later… but it felt so good.

It was you that pulled away first, panting and in need of oxygen.

“What do you not need to breathe or something?” You asked, your chest rising and falling with each breath of air.

“I might not, I guess you’ll never know,” Mephisto stood up straight, your hands falling from his shoulders but his hands never left your waist.

“You can move your hands away now.”

“I don’t think I want to.”

[pigeonwhumps]

Rules

Pets of the Silver Screen masterlist

Taglist: @maracujatangerine @clairelsonao3 @whumplr-reader @whumpinggrounds @bbu-on-the-side

Multiple times over the years, Agatha learns the rules.

2.1k

CWs: BBU, pet whump, kidnapping, collar, beating, stress positions, dehumanisation, non-con nudity (non sexual)

Agatha juts her chin out, poise perfect despite the tip-toe position she's been forced into.

"My name is Miss Agatha Stanbury, daughter of Lord Kenneth Stanbury. Let me go and you may get out of this alive."

Foster Montgomery smirks, pressing his knife into her neck, blood beading along its edge.

"I think I'd rather keep you. Nobody's going to find you, certainly not after I'm finished with you." He drags his knife down her front, slitting her clothes. They mostly stay on, but it must be a very sharp knife to manage that. "Take them off."

"No."

He holds up the knife, reminding her. "What did you say?"

Agatha swallows but keeps her poise. She's going to be an actress, she can pretend she has nothing to fear.

"I said no. You have given me nothing to wear afterwards and I will not follow your disgusting commands."

"I have more suitable clothing for you later, if you earn it. But if you won't obey willingly I'll have to do it for you."

Agatha's barely had a chance to process the statement when she's slammed to the ground. All her bones are jarred and her nose explodes with agony. A boot seems to grind her into the floor as Montgomery removes her clothing piece by piece.

She hates herself for thinking it, but at least he lets her keep her knickers.

He grunts in satisfaction, and hauls her to her knees. She shoves his hands away and stands, but is back on her knees in less than a second.

"Stay." He reaches behind him and picks up a leather collar complete with tag.

Agatha doesn't move when he reaches out and buckles the suffocating leather around her throat, but not out of obedience. She just doesn't think she can.

She reaches up to touch it, but Montgomery smacks away her hand before she can.

"Don't even think about it. I'll only ever remove it if you need a punishment that might interfere with the collar somehow, so if you do so yourself I'll assume that's what you're after. But you do still deserve a punishment. Bend over."

Agatha swallows hard, the soft leather and cold metal buckle pressing against her throat. She doesn't move. She only came down for the season, she's not going to obey a kidnapper who's apparently obsessed with turning her into a pet.

He couldn't find a volunteer? There's enough of them.

She pitches forward onto her hands and knees as he pushes her over, pulling her knickers down.

"Bare flesh is best for this. Pets obey. They don't say no. They don't talk back. You need to learn this."

Agatha has never had such a thrashing in her life as she receives then. No-one's ever drawn blood before. She's not passed out enough by the end to receive a reprieve though – he orders her to clean the house, and woe betide her if he finds a speck of dust or blood.

She experiences it all as if from miles away. As if from the gathering she's supposed to be at right now, with entirely different rules. She's not in her body, most of the time, and that's probably for the best.

That day and the next, she learns the rules of being Foster Montgomery's captive.

1) Don't say no.

2) Only speak when spoken to.

3) Don't talk back.

4) Address other people as sir or ma'am.

5) Always obey immediately.

6) Don't remove your collar.

7) Punishments are always deserved, always hard, and given at the slightest provocation.

She adds an extra one from herself, too, which she knows is true. Montgomery giving her a collar is not just him being a sick bastard, it's theatre, another part of the pretense. Because even if he were to parade her in front of those she loves, everyone knows that only pets wear collars.

8) No-one's coming to my rescue. I'm not getting out of here unless I do it myself.

Over the next few months, the rules don't change. The chores are hard, and the punishments harsh, and a lot more of her is scarred now. Very little of what Montgomery does has any logic to it.

But she still can't find an escape. She fears she's sinking into it.

_

When she's hired by Hayes Fletcher, more rules are added to the list.

9) Don't talk to the other pet.

10) If you disobey, it won't just be you who's punished.

Eloise won't receive whippings, of course, and no canings during the shoot, but she can be put in stress positions, or starved, or have a bucket of water dumped over her head before being left in the unheated studio overnight. And Agatha has absolutely no desire to subject her to anything other than a good hot meal and somewhere better to sleep.

_

Rule 7 is underlined dramatically by the inspector's visit. In the aftermath, Agatha's arm and back throbbing, blood pooling on the frozen stone floor that her toes are just able to touch, Eloise whimpering from her own position, Agatha makes sure to add another two rules to herself (though the second is altered after Eloise's angry objections).

11) Don't talk about the situation to outsiders. It will only make things worse.

12) Don't break the rules. Even Only if Eloise agrees to do so.

_

Agatha could possibly escape during the transatlantic crossing. She thinks about it. Even jumping overboard might be better. But she needs to see Eloise again. Be sure that she's alive and physically unhurt (from the sinking at least, Agatha has no doubt she'll have been hurt since). Tell her that she's brave, and a hero, because if it had been anyone but fellow pets she'd saved, if she was anyone but a pet herself, her actions would've been lauded, but instead it's Hayes Fletcher who's being praised for having such a good pet. Which isn't right, it isn't fair, and Agatha can't leave Eloise on her own.

That's when Agatha solidifies the last rule for herself, that's been brewing since she first met Eloise but she's never stopped to think about it before.

13) Her and Eloise only have each other, and will always have each other.

_

Then the Great War comes.

Foster Montgomery signs up to fight. He leaves Agatha in Hayes Fletcher's care, who lends her to the munitions factory, for good publicity and probably money (money for Fletcher? Money for Montgomery? She doesn't know. But neither man is big into philanthropy). Eloise isn't there. Agatha follows the rules Montgomery has already given her, hating the fact that they keep her alive.

Another few rules are added.

14) Don't become emotional.

15) Never make a sound.

16) Just because you're working alongside people, doesn't mean you are one.

That last is... profoundly obvious, at times. When the rest of the workers get to go home at the end of their shifts and she is kept working, or if there's no-one else at all, locked in the breakroom until morning. When she's fed less than the others, or when she's beaten, or–

It's so obvious, even more so than when she was hired by Hayes Fletcher. She hates it. And she's so alone here.

The war will be over by Christmas, right?

_

1915. Foster Montgomery is dead, and Agatha desperately wishes she could thank his killer, if anybody even knows. She gets a new tattoo, signifying her ownership by Hayes Fletcher (luckily, she knows his rules, there's no new ones to learn there). The Munitions Act comes into force, and the regular bombing raids start.

Monkey's paw. She's not alone anymore, but it means that Eloise, and several other pets, have joined her in the munitions factory.

She teaches Eloise what she's learned about staying out of trouble where possible. They have a dedicated bunkroom now, pets crammed in on old bedding on the floors of the worst-maintained rooms. They learn that only a few owners have paid for their pets to be taken to air raid shelters.

Hayes Fletcher hasn't.

Night after night they spend, trying to stay calm as bombs rain down around them. Occasionally they're still chained or tied up at night, for punishments, and when that happens Agatha worries the most.

She learns one more rule.

17) Sometimes all you can do is pray.

_

The war ends. By a miracle, her and Eloise are both still alive. Hayes Fletcher goes back to producing films, albeit with less success. Agatha watches as pet liberation campaigns grow, and the next decade approaches with force. The world seems a little more hopeful, things seem to be changing.

Except for her and Eloise. Stuck with the horrible, spiteful little man, punishments getting worse as he gets more frustrated and blames them for it (or maybe he simply has nowhere else to put his anger). The world's moving on, votes for women are coming, and she can't help but think of what her life might be like if she hadn't been kidnapped all those years ago.

She remembers rule 7. And the last time was dreadful, and another attempt could get them both killed, but she mentions her rule to Eloise one night and Eloise agrees. They have to try, don't they? Sometimes, it's the only thing you can do.

A week later, the film studio burns down in the middle of the night. Arson, probably. By the time the fire brigade arrive to the burnt out husk Agatha and Eloise are already sneaking onto a train to London.

_

"If the both of you want rules, I can give you some," says Ira, clearly reluctant, "as long as we can go through the ones you already have first. Is that all right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Ira nods. "Why don't you write me a list then? We can go through them while Eloise is busy."

Agatha takes the paper and pen she offers, wincing as she sits down, heart skipping a beat. She's still not used to it.

At the end of the session, her list reads:

1) Don't say no.

2) Only speak when spoken to.

3) Don't talk back.

4) Address people as sir or ma'am.

5) Always obey immediately.

6) Don't remove your collar.

7) Punishments are always deserved, always hard, and given at the slightest provocation.

8) No-one's coming to my rescue. I'm not getting out of here unless I do it myself.

9) Don't talk to the other pets.

10) If you disobey, it won't be just you who's punished.

11) Don't talk about the situation to outsiders. It will only make things worse.

12) Don't break the rules. Only if Eloise agrees to do so.

13) You and Eloise only have each other, and will always have each other. (Ira says she can get rid of this one partially too, but she's not so sure. Not yet)

14) Don't become emotional.

15) Never make a sound.

16) Just because you're working alongside people, doesn't mean you are one.

17) Sometimes all you can do is pray.

The new rules are easy, and straightforward, and Agatha doesn't entirely trust them. The list now reads:

1) You belong to yourself.

2) You will never be punished, no matter what you do.

3) You and Eloise only have each other, and will always have each other.

4) Sometimes all you can do is pray.

_

Agatha kneels on the floorboards, trembling. It's her turn today, Ira asked her to clean and she said yes, she's not sure why except she's so used to not being allowed to say no.

She hopes she's done well. She hopes she's done well. She hopes she won't be punished.

Ira doesn't do punishments. But all the same, she hopes she won't be punished.

There's footsteps, then they stop.

"Agatha?"

"I've finished cleaning, ma'am."

A hand on her shoulder. "Agatha, please look at me. I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. Come on, look up."

Agatha obeys hesitantly. And gasps. Ira's eyes are dark and warm and how could Agatha ever have thought otherwise? Ira gets down to her level as Agatha grasps her hands tightly, pulling her into a rare hug.

"Rules one and two, Agatha."

"I belong to myself," whispers Agatha, still clutching Ira tightly, "and I will not be punished."

Ira's two rules. The only two she'll ever make.

1) I belong to myself.

2) I will never be punished, no matter what I do.

And there's a third, that Agatha has added herself, that she thinks she probably can after so long. Rule number 5, now Ira has been proven correct and number 3 has been partially removed (Agatha does not only have Eloise now).

5) Ira keeps her promises.