#this is what I fucking get for abandoning my roots

[bruciemilf]

tik tok mfs wouldn’t last a second if they heard my femboy izuku/simp bakugou au

[arolesbianism]

Just realized I forgot to post these

[writingbrainrot]

This is a recipe for disaster.

I need the actual scientific articles that prove this works

Cus this deadass sounds like "just mask"

Like yeah? Some people will be able to do it cus they have high fork and knife levels?

Doesnt mean its anything close to valid therapy or treatment

Exposure therapy can't fix chemical imbalances

Thats not????

????????

-signed someone who did do this their entire life and who can never go back to school again as a result

Please do things to strengthen your attention span. It stresses me out so much when people just accept their small attention spans and cater to them without any acknowledgment that they are making it worse by doing that.

There is a reason attention spans are worse now and it didn’t just happen by chance. Media and the internet designed it that way and we went with it because it was easier.

Some of us with ADHD and brain fog need to meet ourselves where we’re at and lengthen our exercise span by watching a two minute video instead of a one minute video. Some of us need to sit down and read a novel with our phones turned off.

Wherever you’re at, just realize that not doing things that feel hard will keep making your attention span worse.

[pellucid-constellations]

If You Cared to Ask

Azriel hasn't been listening. You got hurt. Sometimes, an argument can't be boiled down to just one instance.

Part 2

“You never listen! I have tried over and over to get you to understand but it’s like you don’t even care.”

Azriel’s brow twitched in irritation, the only tell on his otherwise passive face. “That is not true. We have sat down and discussed this at length, y/n. I listen.” 

You laughed, an incredulous pressure weighing down your shoulders. “Okay, fine. You listen, but you never hear me, Azriel! I feel like I’m talking to a brick wall most of the time.” 

“I can reiterate every word you’ve ever said to me. I hear you and I listen to you.” 

Anger twisted through your gut at his nonchalance. You clenched and unclenched your fists and tried to ignore the heat slowly encroaching upon your ability to remain composed. Although, compared to Azriel, you were not even close to the picture of calm. 

“Tell me why it bothers me then,” you seethed through clenched teeth. “Reiterate it for me, Shadowsinger.” 

Azriel’s jaw shifted as he clasped his hands together in his lap, the faelight in the kitchen clashing harshly with the planes of his face. He leaned back in his chair and let out a tortured sigh that almost sent you reeling. 

“You seem to believe,” Azriel began, his voice a low drawl. “That I am blatantly avoiding you—that I am choosing to serve my high lord in place of spending time with you. Both of which, I am not doing. I simply have a duty to this court, y/n. You know that.” 

“Oh, fuck you, Azriel,” you rolled your eyes. “Making this about duty and honor. Making me seem like I’m the crazy one for being angry when you promised me—” 

“You know there is little I can do about promises,” Azriel snapped, a hint of anger finally showing through in the darkness of his eyes. “You knew when we were mated that I have responsibilities that go beyond our relationship.” 

You pushed back from your seat at the table and set to pacing in the kitchen, fighting the urge to tug at the roots of your hair. “Yes, obviously, Azriel, but this was so important to me. I needed you there and this isn’t the first time I’ve been abandoned without even a word.” 

“Abandoned,” Azriel scoffed. “I would hardly call not showing up to your clinic at the camps one day abandoning you. Rhys needed me to—” 

“I needed you!” you shouted, your hands pressed to the countertops and your gaze frantic as you stared at Azriel’s unmoving figure. “I needed you, Azriel. I had every eye on me in that camp and when Devlon’s men had me yanked from the clinic for what I was doing I needed you to—” 

“He did what?” 

“Oh, don’t act like you care now.” You waved off the staunch posture he had adopted and rolled your eyes for a second time at the piercing hatred that had taken over his expression. “Don’t you dare act like you have the right.” 

“You are my mate, y/n. If anyone put their hands on you—” 

“Well, they did. Bruised up my arms and everything. But you were so busy with your duty to your high lord that you couldn’t give a shit until after I was thrown into the mud surrounded by the women I was supposed to be helping up there.” 

Azriel’s hands turned white as he clenched them in his lap. His lashes fluttered and his brow furrowed and he looked utterly lost at the situation—unable to formulate any kind of response to what could be considered his failure. 

“I thought you were simply setting up the back rooms. I didn’t know you were starting the practice or speaking to the camp,” he croaked, eyes downcast and searching the floor. 

“Except I told you I was. I told you two weeks ago and then again right before I left.” 

“I—I can’t remember you saying that.” 

“Of course you can’t. Because if it isn’t Rhys giving you orders or Cassian leading training you’re absent. You stand right in front of me and you’re not even here.”

Azriel finally looked up from the ground and met your eyes with the same torture his sigh made you privy to earlier. But this time it was rooted in something else—this time, he seemed to finally grasp the weight behind your words. 

But you were utterly sick of trying to get him to this point. “I’m so sorry, my love,” he expressed, pain in the furrow of his brow. “I hadn’t realized—with Rhys just returning to Velaris I’ve been so caught up in—” 

“I’m sorry too,” you cut him off. 

Azriel froze. “What?” 

You bit the inside of your cheek and felt the dread begin to rise. You knew you were going to hate this part, but you hadn’t expected Azriel to apologize. He hadn’t apologized for anything in months. You’d been alone in this relationship and he chose the day you’d packed your bags to show remorse.

“I can’t do this, Azriel. Not right now.” 

“Can’t do what?” 

The silence in the kitchen was oppressive. Azriel had leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and you were on the other side of the kitchen counter, protected by a barrier you knew you should have put up weeks ago. Your eyes never left his. 

“I can’t do this with you.” 

Azriel breathed in sharply, his eyes widening. “No,” he stressed, heaving up from the chair. “No, y/n, don’t—what do you mean you can’t do this? Explain it to me.” 

Your mate attempted to round the counter and reach for you, but you weren’t going to accept the affection…not when you had been begging for it for months. Not when he was only ready to give it to you now.

You backpeddled until you reached the hall. Azriel didn’t follow, afraid you would take off. 

“I’ve been telling you this was a problem for months now. I thought it was just an adjustment period—I knew that having Rhys back would change things at first and I was okay with that. Your brother returned from hell and you needed to be there to support him. To support your family. 

“But I’m your family, too. And you forgot that. I can’t—I can’t be relying on someone like that right now. I’m doing too much at the camps for you to… forget about me so easily. I can’t keep building you up in my mind just to be disappointed and hurt.” 

Azriel's jaw quivered. 

“Emotionally and physically. I would’ve asked someone else to come to the clinic with me yesterday, but I chose you. And you forgot about me.” 

Azirel looked as if he’d been punched in the stomach, his shoulders caving in with his anguished breath out. You pressed your lips together as you watched him, all of your anger morphing into a twisted sort of guilt that didn’t sit right in your gut. 

“Please,” Azriel whispered. His hands shook at his side. “Please, I’m so sorry, my love. I never wanted—Please, don’t leave me.” 

“You don’t get to have both, Azriel.” Your voice was as weak as his. “You don’t get to have me and treat me like I’m something you deal with on the side. I matter more than— 

Azriel shook his head and broke through your words. “You matter more than anything. I’ve been a fool. I know I’m an ass. Please, let me fix this, my love. Please don’t leave.” 

You clenched your fists so hard your nails embedded into your palms. 

“I need time to be alone.” 

Azriel was quick to nod. “I’ll give it to you. I’ll leave and—” 

“No, I need… more time than that. I have some things packed. I’ll be back, but… I need to leave. I can’t think clearly around you.” 

A choked cry left Azriel’s throat and the sound burned at your waterline. “Where?” 

You only shook your head. 

“Tell me where. Please. How am I supposed to know you’re safe?” 

“How were you supposed to know before?” 

Part 2

[yaut-jaknowit]

I just had a thought that I personally find hilarious. A yautja hunting a human in the woods, actively chasing her. But the human is a botanist who was out there studying plants and keeps calling time out on the chase to prevent him from stepping on different plants. "Don't step there that plant is endangered." "Not there either, it's vital to the local beetle population." "STOP! That one is my favourite!" And it happens enough times that the hunter eventually stops and says the yautja equivalent of "Lady, sort your fucking priorities out."

And maybe he's impressed and slightly smitten by her sheer fucking audacity but that's neither here nor there

Watch Your Step

Pairings: Vic'tao (Male Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1616

Summary: A botanist who is exploring an alien planet when you start to get hunted by an unknown figure. But every time he gets close, she screams at him. Pleading and demanding he doesn't step on this plant or that plant. Vic'tao is confused and wants you figure out your priorities.

Author Note: When I was writing this at work, I kept on smirking and giggling to myself. My coworkers were so confused on why. If only they knew what I wrote. This was adorable to write too! Thank you for the ask.

Masterlist

Ao3

One of your scientists urged you to take him along since it was dangerous out there. This was a lone expedition you were taking though. Nothing out there would harm you. This planet was one you’ve been studying for some time. Sending all of your research back home to earth for others to analyze as well. Here has given you plenty to research about.

After leaving the safety of the small pop up research building, you followed down a path you were well acquainted with. Being on this planet for so long has taught you the surrounding area. It was beautiful and offered plenty to learn. Not only about the plants but the wildlife as well. An opportunity that you wouldn’t give up. A once in a lifetime chance you get to take.

Along the pathway that led to a spot you were meaning to visit, you saw an unlikely plant that had decided to take root. Amazed by its resilience, you took a detour and knelt down in front of the plant. Small but mighty thing. You used the device in hand to take a few photos and marked it’s spot on the map. In the pictures though, you noticed something reflective.

Confused, you lowered down the tablet. Just like in the pictures was an object reflecting sunlight off of it. You go over to the spot carefully and furrowed yours brows together.

A knife?

It was beautifully and expertly crafted. Yet, here it lay. Discarded. A confused noise left you before the weapon was picked. The knife was light despite meant for someone with larger hands. You tossed it from hand to hand, testing out the weight of it. Though it was too big for you, the craftmanship made it worthy to keep. You carefully placed it into your pack before pressing on.

Sharp eyes watched you. The hairs along your neck prickled at the unease feeling growing inside of you with each step you took.

Along the way, you felt obligated to stop right in your tracks. Frozen to the spot, your eyes scanned around you thoroughly; going over every bush and tree. Nothing seemed of visually but clearly your sense were tingling. They knew something was wrong, was amiss. You go to take a step when you felt a towering figure stand before you. A form you couldn’t see beside the distorting air. You screamed only to cry out louder as the figure become reality.

An alien!

The thing was massive. Fear shot straight up your spine to settle in the base of your skull. Smart enough, your first reaction was to turn tail and sprint away from the yellow and blue humanoid like mad man. It barks out some sort of command in what was its native tongue and gave chase.

In your haste, you abandoned the path all together and carved your own randomly. Only to recognize the area were only a special, specific plant could grow. Nowhere else on this whole planted did this plant grow. You glanced over your shoulder and gasped in horror. Your heels dug into the dirt, skidding to a stop. Both of your hands held out as if you were trying to push him back through the air.

“Watch out!” you cried and prayed he could hear you while listening to your plea. “That plant is endangered.” It’s the only one in this are with that kind of mutation. The alien jerked its massive head back with a confused noise. It had stopped in its tracks and looked down towards it feet. Right below his foot was a small, but colorful plant. Slowly, he placed his foot back down next to the plant.

When he went to make chase again, he only got two steps in. “Don’t step. That one is vital to a beetle population!” What in the world was this thing thinking? To step on either of those would greatly hurt the ecosystem. At least it had the mind to listen to you enough not to step on the plants. It stood there with one foot raise, about to take a step yet your plea stopped him. The metal mask on its face blocked out its features but you could read the confusion plain as day.

Then, the creature stepped over the plant and lunged at you. A yelp surged past your lips. Swiftly in a burst of energy, you dove out of the way. Deadly claws swiped at the area you once stood at. It crashed into a pile of rare flowers. That broke your heart. Those were special to you.

Before you had time to mourn the killed flowers, the beast was already getting back to its feet. A squeak left your lips as you turned tail and bolted into the foliage. Heat washed down the nap of your neck.

Your foot caught on a root and sent you flying forwards. Your hands scrapped against the forests floor, cuts slicing through your skin. A hiss left your lips as you cradled them to your chest, rocking back and forth.

A heavy shadow fell over you. All of your muscles tensed, head rising slightly to find the yellow and blue figure advancing towards you. Your eyes snapped wide, bloody palms shoot out to stop it. “No! Stop. That’s my favorite plant,” you cried, begging that it spares that one as well. What is it and it wanting to crush everything that’s pretty and rare?

The humanoid beast snarls and clenched it fists tightly. But it doesn’t step on the plant. It stops in front of your sitting, bruised form and towers over you. Then, it bends at the waist and gets in your face. Fearfully, you flinched away from its metal face but long, lethal fingers gripped your chin and turned you back.

“You are either really brave or extremely stupid,” his voice growls deeply behind his mask. You swallowed down the lump in your throat. “Either way…” he trails off while his other hands snatched the cross body pack you had. You opened your mouth to argue when the knife from before was pulled out. The fear from before came in as the blade glinted dangerously in the forest’s light. “This isn’t yours to take.”

He lets the knife dance between his fingers, show casting his expertise with the weapon. It fits into his larger hands perfectly, making it known this was his.

Your shoulders scrunched up. “I-I didn’t t-take it! I found it on the ground. You must had dropped it.” Oh, why were you pleading your case with an alien hunter that could easily kill you with little remorse. There was something that hung around it that breathed an air of deadliness.

A snort comes from behind the metal mask. “So it is stupidity that drives you,” he laughs and releases his hold on you to stand back up. The pack is deposited back in your lap. You slowly stood back up and put a couple of feet between the two of you. You couldn’t help the wince at the usage of your hands. The palms had countless cuts and a few splinters. Though, the mask covered his features, you could feel his eyes on you.

There was a short, awkward pause until the creature growled then grabbed one of your wrists. You gasped and tried to jerk away from him but his hold was firm. “Quit it!” he grumbled and observed the newly acquired cut son your hands palms. He keeps holding your wrist as he reached over his shoulder and pulled a small metal pack out. You watched as he used the crook of his elbow to balance the pack. The alien opens it up to reveal medicals supplies. Was he going to help you? After he just chased you and scared you to death.

A pair of tweezers were pinched in his hand. It took him some time to carefully go over your palms thoroughly to ensure there wasn’t anything left. Then, with some sort of white paste, he had cleaned and coated the skin carefully. Once he deemed you well enough, he steps back and slips the pack back into its place. The alien grunted then turned to leave, but you reached out and softly gripped his bicep. He stopped and glances down at you, head tilted to the side.

“Wait… I just wanted to ask for your name. Please?” your voice was soft and small. His piercing gaze behind his mask could be felt looking into your soul before he sighed.

“Vic’tao.” He stand there for a few more seconds than takes his leave. You watch him leave and disappear through the foliage. His steps mindful of any plant life.

You returned back to the hub. The other’s find it strange you’ve come back early but you just brush it them off and go to your room. Then, you go online and did your best to figure out what you had just faced.

Only to realize that you should’ve been dead.

[loveshotzz]

18+

summary: The rainy night Steve asks you to move in with him.

wc: 1k

warnings: fem!reader, older!steve, age gap (steve is 43, reader is 30), p in v sex, cream pie, slightly subby begging steve, slight breeding kink, mentions of drinking at dinner.

This blurb belongs to my series All I Really Want Is You but can be read as a stand alone. Just missed my favorite old man 🥺

Steve’s forehead is pressed to yours, sweat dripping off that one strand that just won’t stay back with a love drunk stare that threatens to swallow you whole. You almost get lost in the gold that still shimmers in the darkness of his blown out eyes, freshly done nails digging half crescent moons into the constellations on his shoulder blades. Your knees sit on either side of his hips, sticky skin clinging to the brown leather of his couch making every bounce on his lap threaten to rub them raw, but you could care less. Not when he’s looking at you like this.

The rain hits the sliding glass door of his backyard, beige curtains drawn hiding you both from the two day rain storm that’s kept you away from your apartment and mostly in his bed. One of his arms loops around your waist, holding you close from the small of your back.

Chest to chest, his coarse hairs tickle the soft skin of your breasts, long fingers digging into the plush curve of your hip. A palm as warm as the electric fireplace behind you cups the back of your neck, the pad of his thumb rubbing circles against the sensitive spot behind your ear he likes to kiss every morning.

Spearmint and whiskey from the drinks you had at dinner fill the space between you with every breath that fans against your lips. Sweet nothings said with drunken abandon, noses bumping with every thrust, the length of him stretching you in a way that has your eyes roll in the back of your head every time he meets the roll of your hips.

“If you think I’m letting you resign that lease this summer,” he breathes, somehow pulling you even closer, making him go deeper, whispering a sweet ‘I know’ when you whine before finishing his thought, “you’re crazy honey.”

Thunder rumbles in the distance outside, your walls fluttering around him in a way that makes him twitch inside of you, eyebrows marrying together when your fingers find their way into the silver and chestnut hair that curls at the nape of his neck.

“Tryin’ to keep me all to yourself huh?” You tease, the liquid courage helping you stay calm at the realization of what he was implying. A conversation you’ve both tiptoed around when five nights a week sleepovers between places became a regular thing.

His top lip catches on your bottom, the corners of his mouth twitching in a smirk before he steals a kiss that has you chasing his tongue with yours letting him take control. The grip on your waist tightens, stopping your movements while the roll of his hips becomes pointed in your undoing.

”God, yes baby, please.” He moans, perfect teeth nipping at your bottom lip when you tug on his roots, the tip of him teasing the spot that has you gasping his name, “I want you every day, please.”

The thumb behind your ear applies just enough pressure for you to turn your head to the side, letting him kiss a sloppy trail up your jaw, whispering ‘please’ after each one. Loosening his hold enough for you to grind your hips, you meet his thrusts in a way that has the hair on his pelvic bone catch your clit with the perfect pressure over and over again.

”Oh my god, Steve.” You gasp, pulling at his hair hard enough for his lips to meet yours again. Something a little smug behind them.

“Yeah?” His hot breath makes you shudder as you find just the right rhythm.

“Feels s’good, you always make me fuck -“ the buildup you’ve already had three times today returns like its the first time all over again, lashes tickling the tops of your cheeks.

“I know honey, I can feel it, you can give it to me, you know I want it.” He hums against your lips, the tip of his tongue teasing yours.

The hand on your hip snakes between your thighs, the pad of his thumb finding your clit, rubbing the kind of messy circles that has your legs start to shake.

”Wanna make you cum every day, please.” Grunting when the roll of your hips makes his toes curl against the hardwood floor, he knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“Tell me you’re gonna let me baby.” Steve practically whines and all you can do is nod because even every day doesn’t seem like enough.

What’s longer than forever?

“Cum inside me,” you whine, “I want it, god, I need it.”

The groan that rumbles from his chest at your request is enough to rival the thunder that gets close enough to shake the house, and the band that wound up tight enough to snap finally does just that, your cunt giving him no choice but to listen to you as you fall apart on his lap.

“Anything - anything you want.” He pants against your open mouth, twitching against your fluttering walls before spilling everything that’s left of him inside of you. The blunt ends of his nails dig into your hip keeping you close so you have to take every last bit, one day hoping you’ll want it to stick.

[losers-clvb]

possession sam winchester x ruby x angel!reader

content: mentions of (kidnapping, shackles, punishment via cutting, non-consensual voyeurism), stockholm syndrome, manipulation, coercion, demon blood sam, sam and ruby are possessive and mean, sam is manipulatively soft, ruby is manipulatively mean, praise, language, religious themes, smut (oral sex (fem and male receiving), dirty talk, edging, size kink perhaps, marking/bruising, unprotect piv penetration, face sitting, implied cockwarming), canon typical blood play (think sam with the demon blood, i don't know what else to call it), perhaps some fluff if you twist it enough

word count: 4.9k

note: everyone say "thank you smin!" for inspiring this with our feral chats over messaging. i may have missed some warnings, please let me know if i did. i'll say this until my lungs give out: LET ME INTO YOUR MARRIAGE, JARED AND GEN!!

The cool metal of your runed shackles weighed your hands down, forcing them to rest on your knees.

Here you were, again, praying out for help, again.

It was a lost cause. You’d been locked up here -- some hidden away cabin -- for longer than you could even keep track of. Every prayer, every beg, for rescue had gone unanswered. Still, you couldn’t stop your kneeling against the floorboards of the bedroom, hands clutched together.

“Mmm…,” you heard purred out from behind you, “still at it?”

You ignored the voice. He was cruel. Cruel and mean and so fucking hot that he had lured you into this whole trap.

Sam Winchester was supposed to be kind. He was supposed to be the kind of boy you smile and flutter your lashes at to get whatever you want. Something had changed since your first meeting with the man.

You suspected that something was your other captor, who had been significantly missing for days.

The thumping of boots on the creaky wood floor made you shiver, and you quickly mumbled the rest of your prayer. Cold fingertips grazed against the bit of spine that pushed against the skin of your bent neck. You hated the way you loved it.

“They’re not coming.” Sam hummed. “Your family no longer deems you worth the effort.”

You swallowed, lip quivering. You were scared of Sam, yes, but not because he’d hurt you. He’d simply sat back and watched as Ruby sliced into your skin after your first, and last attempt at escape. You’d looked to him for help. All he had to offer you was a look of faux sympathy. You knew the truth from the shimmer of something dark in his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” You whimpered, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. You didn’t need to explain the apology. It’d been the only thing you’d said since he had caught you in the woods last week, your weak body thrown over his shoulder.

“Oh, I know you are.” He tutted condescendingly, giving you a soft smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He brushed a hand over your hair and you leaned into it. “But bad girls need punishment.”

“Where’s Ruby?” You asked. The words threw him off-guard, but he didn’t show it.

“She’s out. Just you and me right now, angel.” Sam’s voice was so soft, so calming, you’d forgotten your momentary fear of him.

“Don’t call me that,” you immediately responded, but had the sense to add, “please.”

“Oh, so quick to abandon your faith?” Sam raised his eyebrows and you looked away. Your eyes were watering and you felt the need to bite your bottom lip to keep from crying.

You knew it was wrong. You shouldn’t give up. Not ever. That was where angels fell into trouble. They gave in to emotion, to the overwhelming sense of dread when their Father ignored their prayers. You had thought you were better than them, but here you were. You should have known you were weak when you had let Sam, the old Sam, kiss you.

“Oh, my angel.” Sam’s voice weaved into your brain, growing roots into the smallest parts of you. You didn’t correct him this time.

“Remember, they abandoned you first,” he cupped a hand on your cheek, using his thumb to brush away the stray tears, “they left you here to rot. Who was by your side through the days and nights?”

“You,” you whimpered, your chains rattling with your shifting movement, “and Ruby.” You watched a soft but wicked smile cross Sam’s face.

Neither of you acknowledged the fact that the days and nights were his and Ruby’s faults. You wouldn’t be suffering like this if it wasn’t for them abducting you. They’d hoped your loss in Heaven would spur an army of angels for the rescue, an army they knew they could defeat. When no one came for you, the two had come to a silent agreement: you were theirs, forever.

“That’s right,” he cooed. He knelt to your level, eyes raking over your worn nightgown. “And who always knows best?”

“You and Ruby.” You echoed, the names tumbling from your lips on instinct. They’d flipped some switch in your brain long ago, but it had taken time for you to truly follow everything they said.

Alone, you were still that hellbent-on-escape little angel they’d trapped, but in their presences? You grew weaker until all that you thought was what they had fed you.

Sam and Ruby both knew, it wouldn’t be long before you were wholly theirs.

“Mhm,” Sam trailed a finger over your collarbone. He just wanted to feel your skin. The warmth reminded him that you were real.

There had been a time, before Ruby, when he loved you in a way that was holy. He wanted to give you the world. Your risk of falling had kept him from doing all of the things he really wanted. He had dared a small kiss, in the moments before he’d faced a nest of vampires alone. He couldn’t die without knowing how you tasted.

Now, with the demon blood -- Ruby’s blood -- running through him, he wasn’t in the mood to compromise. If you would fall, then he and Ruby would catch you. Heaven didn’t deserve an angel like you.

They did.

They loved you in the only way they knew how, obsession, but it was love, no less.

“Can you take them off?” Your voice was meek. Terror ripped through you when Sam pulled his eyes back to yours. You were tempted to take it all back, beg for forgiveness for even asking, but Sam gave you a sad smile.

“The last time I took them off, I had to chase you through the woods like a rabbit.” Sam was right. The moment your shackles had left your wrists the week before, you had headbutted him in the nose and dashed out the door.

Ruby had tried to snatch you back up, but it was Sam with his long legs who had caught you. He’d knocked you to the ground before slinging you over his shoulder. Your widened eyes had caught sight of the blood streaming from his nose, the fire of rage burning in his eyes, and you immediately started your groveling.

Sobs of “I’m sorry” had left your throat and lungs raw. Ruby didn’t listen. She just sliced away at your forearm with your own blade. Her goal was made clear when you caught sight of the cuts.

She’d carved Mine into your skin. Mine meaning you would never get away from her, or Sam, for that matter.

Sam had pulled you into his arms after that, a pool of your blood staining his shirt. He didn’t care. He simply brought you to your room, a square space with only a bed, and wrapped your arm in gauze.

“I’m sorry,” you had quivered out again.

Sam smiled, kissing your forehead.

“I know.” He had responded before tucking you into your soft sheets and blankets.

That night, he’d fucked Ruby so hard he had seen stars.

“It won’t happen again, I swear.” You promised, shifting your knees again. You took Sam’s hands into yours, wrapping your fingers around them.

“I won’t run. Please, I’ll be a good girl.” You begged, bringing your forehead to where your hands connected. Sam loved this, watching you plead with him to get what you wanted. He wasn’t going to give in that easily, not yet, but it was a nice sight to have.

Then you said those words. You hadn’t known the impact it would have. You were just babbling on.

“Please, Sam,” you hesitated for just a moment, “I love you.”

It had been the first time you had said it. Ruby and Sam had dragged a vague confession-like thing out of you before, but this was the first time you dared to say those exact words. You meant them, in a twisted kind of way. That was the best part for him.

Sam dove onto you, lips smashing into yours. He’d kissed you before. Once as his old self, and dozens of times as this new version. It had only ever been something small, a peck lasting a few seconds if he was lucky.

This was different. He loved you, and you loved him. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He wouldn’t hold back anymore.

He moved his lips against yours hungrily. You melted into him, letting your mind drift away to a better place.

His hands worked at your shackles, the lock clicking open with the turn of a key. You sighed when they dropped to the floor. Your wrists were flushed red, the skin raw, but the weight was finally gone.

You stayed true to your word. You didn’t run. You were a good girl.

“Really, Sam?”

Her voice chilled you to the bone. Sam pulled away but you slumped into him, burying your face in his neck.

“Ruby,” Sam said, his hand splayed across your back to hold you close. He didn’t seem all too shocked to see her. You wondered how long she’d been there.

“One mutter of love from her and you’re rolling over like a dog.” Ruby stepped closer into the room, her eyes stuck on you clinging to Sam. “She’s lying.”

“No, she’s not.” Sam hooked a finger into your hair to pull it away from your face. “Isn’t that right, angel?”

You nodded, eyes closed. Ruby frightened you more than Sam. She’d been mean from the start. She’d also shown some softness to you, but nothing like Sam. You didn’t know if it was enough to compensate for her torture.

“Use your words,” he encouraged, tracing a finger on your cheek.

“I love you,” you said to Sam, then, after a second of contemplation, you opened your eyes and looked at Ruby. “And I love you.”

You watched something cross over her face. Something dark and lustful. She twisted her sneer into a smile and you kept your eyes locked on hers while she walked to you.

“She’s not gonna hurt you,” Sam soothed in your ear when you tensed up. “As long as you’re a good girl, she won’t hurt you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from whining when she finally reached you. You were still in Sam’s arms, but he’d moved one of his hands to rest on the back of Ruby’s thigh. Ruby narrowed her eyes.

“I don’t believe you.” She said, a challenging look in her eye. You let out a shaky breath, fear racing through you. She didn’t believe you?

“I-I love you, please, I swear.” You stuttered. You didn’t know what she would do if she thought you were lying. Your forearm throbbed in pain at the memory of your last punishment.

Ruby dragged her eyes to Sam, tilting her head in a silent message. He must have known how to decode her, because a second later he was standing next to her. You were left alone, on your knees, with Sam and Ruby towering over you. They held twin smirks at the sight of your widened eyes.

“Mmm, I don’t know,” Sam hummed, turning his head to Ruby, “I don’t believe her either.”

“She likes to lie.” Ruby agreed, nodding her head. Sam still looked at Ruby, but her eyes never left yours. Your pace quickened. They loved the fear radiating from you.

“No, no, I’m not lying,” you rushed out, “I love you, both of you, so much.” You scrambled closer to them, resting your head on Ruby’s stomach. Your hand grasped at Sam’s shirt. “Please believe me.”

“Prove it.”

Your trembling paused for a moment. You tilted your head up to look at Ruby and she smirked. Her fingertips danced over your cheek, landing on your lips. You just watched her, tears threatening to well back up.

“Show us how much you love us.” She pressed two fingers past your lips. You didn’t need to ask what she meant. You knew.

You’d heard them enough, the moans and grunts echoing through the thin cabin walls. They did it on purpose, you’d realized once. They were loud and messy and verbal in an attempt to lure you in. They’d hoped you would give in to their control faster if you heard what you were missing out on. It had worked, not in the way they had wanted, but you found yourself yearning for their dirty words during sex to be aimed at you.

You pressed your tongue against the pads of her fingers, sucking on them.

“Good girl.” She praised before pulling them out.

Your hands flew to the front of her jeans, hastily unbuttoning them. You tugged the denim down her legs, pulling her underwear with them.

“So fucking ready to please.” Sam mumbled, palming himself through his own jeans. He’d have your lips wrapped around him soon enough, but right now he wanted to watch. Ruby weaved her fingers into your hair, helping to guide your mouth where she wanted it the most.

You dragged your tongue through her folds. Your eyes fell shut at the taste.

“That’s right,” Ruby cooed when you got the rhythm down, “just like that, angel.” You looked up at her through your lashes, a swell of pride blooming in your chest when she moaned.

Sam placed his hand where Ruby’s lay tangled in your hair. He interlocked his fingers with hers. They were one, putting just the right amount of pressure on you to get Ruby biting back noises.

You trailed your hand to the front of Sam’s jeans. For a moment, you just brushed your thumb against his bulge, feeling the hard denim against your fingers. He rolled his hips, chasing the friction.

Sam bent his neck down to Ruby’s level. He kissed her hungrily. This was different from the way he’d kissed you. With you, he’d been starved of your touch for far longer. Ruby, he was comfortable with. The passion was still there, but Sam knew the best angle to slot their lips together.

Sam pulled her bottom lip in between his teeth when her mouth fell open. You had flicked the tip of your tongue against her clit and it had the effect you had hoped for.

“Knew you’d be good,” Sam growled at you, sucking on Ruby’s lip before moving to her neck.

With the help of Sam’s hand over your own, you were able to undress his bottom half. His cock sprang free, red and angry.

“I don’t know-,” you started to say when you saw Sam’s size, but Ruby clutched her hand around your jaw, making you look back at her.

“Don’t you love him?” She asked, a cruel spark running through her eyes.

You nodded.

She smiled and used her thumb to swipe up the mix of her arousal and your spit that was glistening on your chin. Her eyes rolled back when she wrapped her lips around the digit, sucking it clean. With a look from her, you knew you needed to do this. No, you corrected yourself, you wanted to do this.

You turned your attention to Sam, who was staring down at you while he stroked himself. He raised an eyebrow.

“C’mon, angel,” Ruby murmured, rubbing herself with her middle finger, “show Sammy how much you love him.”

You hesitated before wrapping a hand around Sam, just above his own. You noted the way your fingertips weren’t able to touch. A squeeze made Sam suck in a breath.

You kissed his leaking tip, the taste of him leaking through to your taste buds. Slowly, you pushed him past your lips. Your jaw dropped further and further as you took in more of him. You stopped when he brushed against the back of your throat.

“Aww, poor angel can’t fit it all in.” Ruby mocked in a sweet voice. She pushed slightly on your head, forcing you closer to Sam’s abdomen. Your breath hitched as you tried not to gag.

A smile twitched onto Sam’s face at the sight.

“See how she’s taking it,” Ruby purred to Sam and pushed you further, “she was made for this -- made for us.”

Sam steadily let the air out of his lungs, dropping his head forward when your throat constricted into a swallow. He swooped his head lower, nipping at Ruby’s cheekbone. He still had his hand twisted with hers in your hair, but he took his other and began to drag circles on her clit.

Ruby’s mouth fell open in ecstasy. You felt the twitch of Sam against your throat when Ruby groaned. In the haze of her pleasure, she rushed her pushing and your nose crashed into Sam’s pubic bone. This time, you did gag. It was too much all at once.

You dug your nails into Sam and Ruby’s thighs, hoping to get their attention to what you were going through. They continued to be enamoured by each other. Sam was pulling on the skin of her neck with his teeth, just enough to leave bruises. Ruby was grinding into Sam’s hand, moans falling from her lips.

Tears rolled down your cheeks. You pulled your head back, straining against their shared hold. Somehow, you slipped out of their grasp. You tumbled back, catching yourself on your hands.

Your chest heaved and you trembled, trying to catch your breath enough. It had scared you, that small moment when you didn’t know if you would be able to come up for air.

“Oh, angel.” Ruby knelt to her knees, brushing your tears away. You didn’t flinch. Ruby loved you, and as long as you were a good girl, she wouldn’t hurt you. “Was it too much?”

You nodded and let her palm cup against your cheek. Sam gathered one of your hands in his, helping you to your feet. You swayed a bit, but ultimately stood your ground by leaning against Sam.

“We’re sorry, baby,” Sam kissed your forehead. He was surprisingly sweet for someone who was still rock hard. You closed your eyes and buried your head in his chest. You felt your hair get brushed back.

“Let us make it up to you,” Ruby kissed your neck. “Let us show you how much we love you.”

You hummed out a response.

They worked together to guide you to your bed. You didn’t know how it would fit all three of you. Sam and Ruby didn’t seem worried about this fact.

Sam gathered the hem of your nightgown up, lifting it over your head to leave you naked. When you regained your sight, Ruby had shed the rest of her clothing. You eyed her like she was the most holy thing you’d ever set eyes on. The flash of mischief in her eyes told you she was anything but.

“Lie back, angel.” Ruby instructed. She placed one hand on your back and the other on your chest, helping you into the position she wanted you in. She left featherlight kisses on you, spanning across your chest, stomach, thighs. She was working you up while Sam undressed himself.

“Fuck, this all from loving us?” Sam asked when he caught sight of your glistening center.

“I love you.” You whined when Ruby tapped a light message against your clit with her finger. Sam and Ruby exchanged similar looks of joy at your programmed response.

This was is it. They knew it then.

You were theirs, all theirs, only theirs.

They took turns going in on you, tongues sometimes mashing together when the other couldn’t hold themself back. You were a writhing mess, but they held your hips steady.

“So good,” Ruby muttered, panting. She nipped at your clit lightly, just enough to make you squeak. She pushed her tongue into you, fucking you with it while Sam slithered up to your face.

“So perfect,” he whispered to you, kissing you. You moaned when you tasted yourself on his lips. He brushed a thumb across one of your nipples.

“I’m-,” you broke mid-sentence when Sam sucked a mark onto your neck, “I’m gonna come.” Your voice was small.

You grasped onto Sam’s shoulders. He slunk back down your body, leaving bruises with his mouth along the way. You locked eyes with Ruby. She smirked against you and sucked a bit harder.

She saw it in your eyes, the sparkle you got just before you came. You didn’t see the spark of dominance in her before it was too late. She’d pulled away from you, leaving you whining as your high slowly simmered down.

“Not yet.” Ruby slid up to your level, kissing your forehead. You knew better than to argue. Snuggling into her neck, you felt Sam’s hands graze against your skin until they cupped over your breasts.

“Wanna feel you come apart on me, angel.” Sam whispered into your ear. He kissed your neck.

You let out a breathy whine, a quiet and soft noise. Your eyes fluttered shut while they showered you with kisses.

You never felt more loved.

In Heaven, you were a soldier. A pawn in the divine plan. You were used to deliver salvation to humanity, responsibilities of keeping everything as it was supposed to be according to your Father’s plan.

Here, you were appreciated for what you brought to the table. You had no expectations, nothing other than complete obedience. You didn’t have to think. Sam and Ruby loved you, and they would take care of you until the end of days.

You needed to give them more. You needed to show them how much you loved them.

“Ruby?” You asked in a timid voice. Your lips brushed against her skin while you spoke. She smirked, locking eyes with Sam. She was waiting for you to do this. She knew what would come next.

“Yes, my angel?” Ruby answered.

“Can I make you and Sam feel good again?”

Ruby ran a tongue across her teeth, trying not to let you know how much your willing nature was already pleasing her.

“Yes.” She was already guiding you up to sit on your knees on the bed. She motioned to the spot where she wanted Sam and he obliged, rolling over to lay on his back.

“Right here, angel, sit right here.” She instructed, her firm grip on your hips dragging you to rest on Sam’s thighs. You brushed against the base of his cock, making you let out a shaky breath. You were already sensitive after the night’s earlier events, but the knowledge that he would soon be inside of you was enough to intimidate you. The sick part was the arousal that washed over you in tandem with the fear.

Ruby bent down until her mouth was just over Sam. She spit onto him, using it as lubrication to prepare him for you. Not that it was all that needed; you were dripping just thinking about how much you loved them both.

“Come here.” Ruby beckoned. She helped you move over Sam, lining him up with your entrance.

“I’ll be gentle,” Sam lied, assuring you when he noticed your hesitation. He could have been sincere in it, you thought, but you knew his intentions went out the window the moment you sunk down onto him. His eyes flicked to pure black. It was a reminder that his humanity was dwindling. The demon blood was converting his soul to darkness.

You sighed, your head falling back, when you finally reached his base. You sat there, trying to organize your thoughts. Sam didn’t like that. He didn’t want you to think.

He gripped onto your hips, lifting them before letting his own hips follow, slamming himself back inside. You gasped, a moan escaping. Ruby rested one hand on your lower back, the other on Sam’s abdomen, like the puppet master she was. She controlled you both, but her hold on you was stronger than the one on Sam.

“Fits so well,” Sam grunted, pounding into you. You let out a strangled moan. You gripped onto Ruby’s arm, needing to stabilize yourself.

“See what you’ve been missing out on?” Ruby flicked the tip of her tongue against your cheek, pushing her chest closer to you. You couldn’t speak. You could barely breathe with the speed Sam was moving at.

That pleased Ruby even more. You were her dumb little angel, listening to everything she said.

She pulled away from you to climb onto Sam’s face. This scene was too much. She needed to come, and she knew Sam was always happy to offer his mouth up for that assistance. She sat comfortably on his face, eyes fluttering shut when he groaned into her.

You watched her with a hazy mind, choking on your breath at the pleasure. When she looked back at you, her eyes were the same inky black as Sam’s had been. It should have sent a shiver down your spine that you were in the presence of such evil.

But Ruby didn’t feel evil. Not when she was pulling you toward her to kiss you so hungrily. This was your Ruby. She loved you, and you loved her.

You whimpered into her mouth when she clawed at your arms, tearing away the bandages. In the haste of trying to prove yourself to Sam and Ruby, your slow-healing cuts had been ripped open. The blood seeped out slowly, not enough to trickle, but enough to drip when it pooled up too much. You hadn’t noticed.

Ruby did. An idea popped into her head, one bred from the desire to be closer to you. She remembered forbidding you from healing yourself after your punishment, and, God, was she grateful for it when her tongue flashed over your arm.

She’d tasted blood before, bathed in it even, but nothing like this. Your blood brought the sweetest sting down her throat. She relished in the fleeting pain. She scraped her teeth against the slices, chasing the high angel blood was bringing to her. You whined as she moaned.

Sam almost protested when Ruby slid back but before he could get a word in, she slammed your forearm down to his mouth. He sucked on instinct and his thrusts stuttered with the tang of your blood.

It didn’t hurt him like it had Ruby. No, it had a different effect on him. It turned the dirty inside him clean, filled him with hope. He felt lighter, almost. Somehow he knew that the mixture of demon and angel blood in his system would make him more powerful than ever.

The thought brought his pace back to life.

His hips were unforgiving on the backs of your thighs, bruising them with every moment of contact.

Ruby reclaimed her prior spot over his face. This time, Sam had her falling apart in minutes. He’d gotten a new spark inside of him with this whole thing. You and Ruby were his girls and he’d be damned if you two went unsatisfied.

A scream caught in your throat when you came. You doubled over, falling to Sam’s chest. It didn’t falter his pumping in and out of you. In fact, it seemed to motivate him more. The clenching of your walls around him had him silently begging for release. He needed it.

Ruby took no time to level her head with Sam’s. She was still recovering from her orgasm, but knowing he was still inside you had her kissing next to his ear.

“Come in her,” she whispered to him, nibbling on his earlobe. Sam groaned in anticipation. He’d been planning on doing it but now Ruby had given him the permission he needed. “Fill her up for me.”

“Fuck,” he seethed when it finally happened. He dug his hips into your ass, grinding up to ensure his release was deep inside. He was able to get in a few sloppy thrusts to guarantee he was completely satisfied before he relaxed into the mattress of your bed.

You were heaving out breaths. You hadn’t opened your eyes since your orgasm, but they both knew you weren’t sleeping. Ruby traced a finger across Sam’s cheek before kissing him.

“Good boy.” She praised, earning her an exhausted smile from him.

“Angel?” Ruby asked softly, skimming her hand over your shoulder. You didn’t move. The only indication you had heard Ruby came from the small “Hmm?” that vibrated from your throat. She smiled wickedly at that. You were completely spent. Still, she wanted one last thing before you fell asleep.

“Tell me again.” She ordered. You needed no explanation, even with your fuzzy mind keeping you from thinking.

“I love you,” you mumbled, shifting your hips. Sam scratched lightly against your back, making your skin tingle.

“And who will love you when no one else will?” Ruby asked. She pulled a blanket over you three, protecting against the cold night air. Not that anyone would get cold tonight, not with your bodies still tangled together.

“You and Sam.” You breathed out one last answer before drifting off. The soothing circles on your spine calmed the part of your brain keeping you from sleep. Ruby smirked proudly, kissing both yours and Sam’s foreheads while you both slept.

“Good girl.” She purred, settling in to watch over you both all night long.

The morning would come, but your fear of them would not. The wounds on your arm would heal into a scar, spelling out their possession of you every time you looked at it. As long as you were a good girl, Ruby wouldn’t hurt you again, a mantra that reminded you to never try to leave them again.

everything taglist : @littlesoulshine @sacr1ficialang3l @blossomingorchids @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @mostlymarvelgirl @missus-ackles

sam winchester taglist : @hobiespick @xoswiftieprincess

additional loveys that i know will want to read this : @saltcxrcle @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth @ambiguous-avery

[carolmunson]

18+ stoned!reader x stoned!eddie, some semi smut found this in my drafts from a couple days ago that i wrote when i was...also stoned. utter nonesense, most of it.

“Shh—hehe-shh, no, no, we have to be — hahaha — sh, sh, quiet,” he whisper yells, stumbling over himself while he nearly knocks a lamp off of a side table in Steve Harrington’s living room. The rest of the gang filled the guest bedrooms, leaving you both on the pull out couch.

His sweaty hand clasps yours as you finally make it to the kitchen, squinting in the light against the white tiles.

“Ugh, put the dimmer on,” you whine into another peal of ‘quiet’ giggles.

“Okay, okay,” he nods, leaning against the wall while he twists the light switch knob, the lights going to a low yellow.

“That’s better — shit,” he huffs, grinning.

“What?” you grin back,

“M’stoned as shit, babe,” he laughs, rubbing his swollen red eyes.

“Me—haha, me too,” you laugh back. You both make your way to the abandoned s’mores ingredients on the counter, the reason for the adventure to the kitchen.

“I don’t really get marshmallows,” he says, popping one into his mouth, “Li’ I get them, buh I don’ really get them.”

“True, true,” you nod, breaking a graham cracker in half, staring at the crumbs on the marble, “They’re like — oh my god — holy shit, they’re a fake food.”

“Babe, fuck — you’re so right,” he nods, “Like what’re they even made of?”

“Like…plastic, babe. I think they’re plastic,” you nod back, eyes as wide as they can go — and it’s not wide at all, “Like from space. They’re space plastic.”

“They’re totally space plastic,” he agrees, putting another one in his mouth, “Tasthy, shug-ry, spacthe, plasdic.”

“M’so thirsty,” you complain, turning the sink on with little grace, leaning forward to drink from the faucet.

“Aw, shit, me too — move,” Eddie grumbles, holding his hair back and hip bumping you out of the way.

“Hey!” you whine, hip bumping him back, knocking your forehead against his to get back to the water.

“You hey!” he laughs back, face half reproachful and half mischievous, “I’ll count to five and then hahaha, then it’s my turn.”

You drink quick while he counts down, taking turns in intervals of five until you both think you’ve been drinking water for hours.

“3, 4…”

“Okay enough, you’re waterboarding me,” you gasp after a gulp, turning the sink off.

“You don’t even know what that means.”

“No Ed, you don’t even know what that means.”

“No you,” he tuts, leaning in for a kiss.

“No you,” you tut back, letting him kiss you softly. Unsurprisingly, you both let out simultaneous groans, knowing you’re both on shaky ground if you keep at it. It takes little effort for him to convince you to sit up on the island counter so his hips can line up against yours, ringed and tattooed hands gripping your thighs without thought or care behind it, just need. Just bare need from the roots. He pushes forward, the hard on tenting his boxers pressing up flat against you. Two more breathy groans coming from between your kisses while he rocks against your panties.

“I don’t have a condom with me,” he whispers against your lips.

“Sss…hmmm, it’s okay,” you mumble out, swollen eyes now shut while your body tingles through with pleasure, “S’feelin’reallygood babe.”

“You all extra sensitive?” he asks, the giggles gone, just eyes that want you — brain focused now on chasing the pleasure in his groin.

“Yeah,” you whimper, his chest pressing up against yours when he brings his mouth to your neck. To your spot. The whine you let out is a little too loud and you both know it — enough that he covers your mouth while he keeps going, hips still grinding in a steady rhythm against you. He tugs you down back to the floor by your hips, turning you around without a second thought, oversized t-shirt rucked up to your waist.

“You want me?” he asks, pulling your panties to the side. You nod hurriedly.

“Please,” you whisper, hips wiggling — which makes him laugh, which makes you laugh, and then you look at the marshmallows on the counter and it’s space plastic all over again. Giggles and kisses while he gets ready to ease into you and put you both to bed exhausted.

“I hope the aliens don’t come,” you murmur between sloppy pecks, “For the space plastic.”

The light in the kitchen gets bright, bright, bright, “We’re getting abducted babe.”

“What’re you talking about?” Steve’s annoyed voice echos from the other end of the room, “You guys are being so loud.”

You and Eddie separate like embarrassed high schoolers who got caught kissing behind the bleachers. Like dad walked in on something he shouldn’t have.

“Sorry, Harrington,” Eddie smirks, “We were just—”

“Getting water!” you interrupt.

“Yeah I see that,” Steve huffs, crossing his arms, “It’s all over the floor.”

He’s not wrong, it is, the two of you looking at the tile like kids who are definitely in trouble.

“We’ll clean it up Steve, sorry,” Eddie assures, much more apologetic now.

“Just — go to bed guys,” he sighs, “Or I’m making you sleep in separate rooms next time.”

When he leaves you both toss each other a look, mocking Steve’s exasperated face with another silent outbreak of breathy giggles. After wiping up the water, you put away the snacks together and click the light off, settling back down in the pull out couch under the covers. The high now holding you down in a cozy grip, making your eyes lull and your breaths slow.

“M’sleepy,” you whisper under the crisp sheets.

“Me too,” he nods, intertwining his limbs with yours like he does every night. Curly hair creeping onto your face while he settles his head in the crook of your neck, “But babe?”

“Yeah?” you ask into the quiet of the room, eyes closed, sleep pulling you further and further away.

“M’gonna rail you when we get home tomorrow,” he mutters, half asleep.

“M’kay,” you nod, “Thass—that sounds good. I like that. I’ll get us a ticket.”

“Hm?”

“For the rail…for the railroad.”

“I’ve been workin’ on the rail road,” he sings quietly.

“All the live long day…” you both harmonize, more giggles, sleepy giggles.

“I’ve been workin’ on the rail road, just to pass the time away…”

“Guys,” Steve’s sharp whisper calls from the stairs, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Steve,” you mumble in unison, singing the song in quiet whispers — falling asleep before you even make it to the end.

[botched1up1brain]

Short story i made inspired by @meo-eiru 's yandere one eyed monster oc Theo

This is how my oc Zia meets Theo.

.

.

*click*

"My name is Zia Atreya, paranormal investigator. The date and time is September 18 20XX, 2203 hours. I'm on the trail of the creature who's been following me for the past few months, possibly longer. The last time I got a glimpse of the creature it seemed to be 5'8, was wearing a large raincoat, and had one. huge. glowing eye. I have salt, silver, a cross, and a knife, cause who knows what will hurt this thing if I must defend myself. I will be back when I have an update"

*click*

*click*

*sigh*

"My name is Zia, paranormal investigator. The date is September 19 20XX, about 0010 hours.. I've lost the trail, im tired, and I forgot water. I think I need to abandon this mission and resume when I'm *yawn* more awake-"

*leaves rustles amd footsteps*

"..that wasn't me.."

*silence*

*loud running steps, leaves crunching*

"..Oh my god, its right there!"

*more running steps, gasping breathes*

"I saw it's eye! Oh my god I found it! Oh shit- Oof!"

*thump on the ground*

"Fuck! Oww.."

*silence*

"um.. I.. I've lost the creature again.. and my foots- uh! stuck in this tree root.."

*sounds of this girlboss trying to get her foot unstuck from the tree root and failing*

"..Aw man.. okay uh hopefully I'll get unstuck and be back with an update.."

*thud*

".. of course, you dropped the recorder, stupid.. ugh.."

*footsteps getting closer*

"Oh shit.. its coming.."

*girlboss panicking noises*

*closer footsteps*

"Uhm.. can I help..?"

*silence*

*click*

.

I was handed the recorder by a pale hand belonging to the figure. It was like time froze.

I stared at the figure, his face becoming clearer by the second. His eye really did glow in the darkness. His pretty golden iris was surrounded by long lashes and had a round wide nose sitting below, light freckles sprinkled on it.

I recognized that nose. It's usually peeking below a face covered with reddish brown hair, the same hair that frame the unique face of this creature.

I was so lost in his face that I barely noticed he grabbed my foot to pull it out of the thick coiled tree roots. I slowly found my footing despite my right foot aching in pain.

He seemed frozen too, but his face was in a more panicked state. My flashlight bathed us both in a yellow light for a moment, before the boy turned around and ran away.

I didn't chase him this time.

.

*click*

"Um, this is Zia Atreya, paranormal investigator. The date is September 19 20XX, it's 7am. So I did.. technically, succeed in my mission, and I now know who was following me. It's the quiet loner that sits behind me who covers his face, uh Theodore, i think it was? I'm going to hopefully confront him at school today. My foot still aches, but it's not that bad. And my parents didn't hear me sneak back in the house, so yay me. Okay, uh, be back with my update, bye."

*click*

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Quid Pro Quo | Michael Gavey x fem!reader

Summary: After being ditched by her friend at the Trinity College Christmas Party, she finds herself enthralled with learning the language of Michael Gavey | Word Count: 3.8k~ | Warnings below the cut!

Part Two: Carpe Diem Part Three: Veni, Vidi, Vici

warnings: virgin michael, semi-public sexual conduct, oral sex (m receiving), heavy petting

If she has to listen to Professor Wardon swoon over Ancient Greek and how it ‘drove him to pursue his dreams in extending his passion to other students’, she thinks she might actually fall asleep.

She's in a good spot to do so, nestled between two other students, the one on her right seemingly just as bored as her, and conveniently hidden behind a tall, lanky first year, who sits straight, with his head perfectly obscuring hers as he fixes his posture regularly.

Several times throughout, she's checked her watch, and yet the second hand never seems to move an inch.

Professor Wardon is just about to go on a lovesick spiel about Homeric Greek when the lecture concludes with a heaved sigh from every student as they sling their hefty bags over their shoulders.

“Remember I want 2,500 words on Les Liaisons dangereuses in my pigeon hole by next Thursday, before your Christmas parties!” 

“Oh joy,” she sighs with a grin to the girl walking shoulder to shoulder beside her as they leave, feeling noticeably lighter knowing that that's their last lecture before Christmas break.

“Christ, you're telling me. I can't be arsed to even right my own name at the moment, nevermind read 18th century fucking French.”

She gives a snort in reply, “Merry Christmas to us, eh? Should do what the French do and have a revolution or something.”

“Yeah, eat our lecturers or something.”

“Alright, I wouldn't go that far.”

“Anyway, I'm off to T Library, see ya, have a good Christmas and don't do anything I wouldn't!”

She waves her off as her friend disappears, the cold air of the outside nipping at her skin that manages to sneak beneath her coat.

Oxford University is not what she imagined at all. She came here very much feeling like an outsider, like there'd been some sort of paperwork mistake and it was supposed to be someone else in her place. 

The imposter syndrome seemed difficult to shift, but she'd at least managed to make a couple of friends since starting in September.

Languages had always found her well, and seemingly the only thing she managed to actually understand. People were inconsistent, cruel and fickle. Languages, though they shifted and changed, were firmly rooted in reason and understanding. 

As sad as it sounded, conjugating verbs, vowel shifts and rare dialects were the one thing she found herself itching to discover more about. The idea that there was more to uncover seemed exciting and scary at the same time.

And Oxford University was the best place she could be to do that.

All that said, her eagerness to get involved with her studies had left her social life with much to be desired.

In the first two weeks of university alone, she'd gained one friend and lost a boyfriend. And while they were drifting apart anyway, it was still a relatively large blow to her self-esteem and her confidence to actually get out there, socialise and make the most of her first year of freedom.

The only friends she'd made were those on her course. Priya, who'd just abandoned her to stick her nose in books about the Great Vowel Shift, and Anya, who…to be honest, rarely left her room. Seeming more like a ghost than anything else.

It was a wonder she was still a student, with how often she missed classes.

What Anya does do best, is manage to somehow rise out of her pit to drag her to Christmas parties that aren't even run by their college.

Which is why she finds herself somehow at Trinity College campus, where she eyes several scantily clad women wearing revealing Santa costumes adorned with itchy tinsel.

Anya is the sort of girl who, well, every girl kind of wants to be. So much so she sort of wonders why she hangs around with her. She's pretty, fit and fucking clever. Her only downfall is her taste in men, so often being Oxford pretty boys.

So it is absolutely no surprise at all, when two jägerbombs in, Anya has somehow slipped into the arms of one aforementioned Oxford pretty boy, seeming in every way a clone of the previous, with the exception of the way he pairs his Ayia Nappa top with his low rise jeans and the only effort to conform to  theme, is a pair of plastic reindeer antlers on his head bobbling side to side.

She grimaces as she watches them suck each other's faces off in a dark corner of the room, ‘Stay Another Day’ by East 17 blaring with a cheap crackle through the speakers as she makes her way through the bodies to somewhere quiet.

She sighs, nursing the rum and coke Anya had sloppily poured her in one hand as she closes the door behind her, shutting out the drunken squeals and cheers for the peace of a quiet common room.

It's still decorated, she notes, but empty. Maybe she could lurk here until Anya is done, if she ever will be.

The deep clack of a pool ball being sucked into a socket makes her jump, realising perhaps that she was not actually alone, as she'd previously thought.

The cool light hung above the battered pool table illuminates his deep red jumper, and the first thing she sees is the way he leans on one leg, standing straight as if he was imitating the rigid pool cue leant before him. The yellow lined detailing around the cuffs highlights his small wrists and big hands that stretch from it as he rubs blue chalk onto the tip.

Her eyes trail up the back of his neck, past the lazy waves of dark blonde hair, clearly due a trim at some point, and to his face, even from this angle able to see how his features sit. With a sharp nose and jawline, and black skinny glasses perched above his cheekbones.

She almost laughs at the way he's almost as tall as the light that illuminates the table, half-thinking that she might never have seen such a strange and yet interesting looking guy.

“Didn't fancy the party?” she finally says, alerting him to her presence.

She doesn't quite expect the way the light bounces off his sharp features, sinking his blue eyes in shadow as his head turns to her with an expression of boredom.

“Not particularly, no.” 

His voice is lighter than she thought it would be and part of her wonders if he's putting it on. He presses his glasses further up his nose before assessing his next shot, stalking around the table.

“Why's that?”

This time, when he answers, he doesn't look at her. He simply leans down, and aims.

“Not. Fucking. Invited,” he replies bitterly, missing a yellow, “that's why.”

Her fingertips moisten against the glass as the ice begins to melt, but she pays it no mind.

“So you're lurking about in here instead.”

He plays with the cue in one hand, barely sparing a second glance, a bitter, quiet laugh escaping him.

He misses another red before he heaves a sigh, straightening to look at her again.

“You here alone as well?” he asks dispassionately.

She smiles lazily and shrugs.

“My mate is…a bit preoccupied, if you know what I mean,” she replies, taking an awkward sip of the now watered down drink, “like you, I don't really think these are my thing either.”

He seems to consider her statement for a moment.

“Why come then?”

She shrugs again, “trying to be sociable.”

“With those vapid cunts? Good luck getting any intelligent conversation out of them.”

She watches as he picks up the blue chalk again, applying more when he doesn't even need it in sort of a nervous gesture, his blue eyes averted and pretending to assess his next move.

There's something about him. How judgemental he is and how he forms his words. Perhaps she hadn't expected this sort of guy to be so outwardly honest with his opinions, and for the most part, she can't say she disagrees with the message, just the way in which he said it.

“Can I play?” She asks, leaning over to put her drink down.

“What are you reading?” He asks so suddenly, and out of context, that she does a double take.

She raises her eyebrows, smiling, “Does my answer depend on if I get to play or not?”

There's no answer from him. Shocker of the century.

“Modern Languages.”

“Fucking hell,” he groans.

She's a bit too happy and dizzy on rum to get defensive.

“Is that one of those subjects that sounds way less interesting than it actually ends up being?”

She gives a breathy laugh, “just like languages.”

He hums, as if the answer didn't impress him, “more of a science and numbers man myself, obviously.”

For a moment, it's lost on her why it's obvious.

He takes a sip of his, no doubt, stale beer, wetting his lips after, “Your name is?”

She narrows her eyes teasingly, smiling as she leans against the table, “quid pro quo.”

She enjoys the brief confusion on his face, before he realises what she's said.

“Okay, okay, Michael.”

She smiles, “See? You know what that meant. Who says you're not a languages man?”

It's the first time he seems to duck his head, hiding a blush she's barely able to see.

“I don’t think the Ancient Roman idea of fair exchange warrants the title of ‘languages man’.” 

The blue chalk comes off on his hands as he fiddles nervously with it.

“So, am I bestowed the privilege of playing?”

He raises his head, and she can tell he's trying his damndest to not let a little beer-induced smile pass his lips.

“I suppose I could allow you to embarrass yourself in front of me for a bit, if you insist. We'll have to share a cue though.”

She doesn't have the heart to tell him her uncle was a pool player, and so by extension, has played pool for most of her upbringing. Rather, he finds out himself when she pots three yellows in a row.

It's either the alcohol or pity that kicks in when she misses the fourth, holding the cue for him to take.

“You being good at pool wasn't on my bingo card,” he mutters with some nervous teasing in his voice.

They go back and forth for a bit, missing some, potting some, with interspersed conversation between. 

“Thought you might have been a Norman-no -mates, like me,” he says quietly as he watches her assess her next shot. Bending to aim.

“You're not far off,” she replies, “first fortnight I was down a boyfriend. Since then, I've only been up two friends and one of them is in the other room  having ditched me for the shag of a lifetime.”

She doesn't see it until after she takes the shot, the way his eyes flit back to hers quickly as she rights herself to stand.

Was he checking me out?

As if he was lagging, he only laughs now at what she's said.

“What about you?” She asks, “no girls, or boys, on the scene?”

He blushes a lot when she asks that. And she can't help the fluttering in her chest she feels that someone might find her attractive.

“Can’t say there is.”

She stands close, passing the cue to him, electricity warming her fingertips as she grazes his.

“And why not?”

He scoffs bitterly, “have you seen me?” he mutters, wandering around the table, suddenly unable to shake the feeling of her gaze, “Not too many girls out there looking for the stereotypical nerdy math boy, really.”

“Hm,” she hums, “how unfortunate for them.”

He sinks a red, picking at his red jumper.

“Yeah, they're clearly missing out, huh?”

The bitter and self-deprecating tone of his voice makes her heart sink a bit. He's not a bad looking guy, she thinks. His style, glasses, hair, she would almost say look actually quite cute.

Maybe that's the thing he doesn't like.

“No interest? Or is maths the only one for you?”

He misses the next shot and sighs, holding the cue for her to take, “clearly, the only one I need.”

She steps close to retrieve, taking her time, looking up at him as she does. At this proximity, Michael sucks in a breath quietly, his lips, which she can't say she'd noticed until right this moment, parting and his Adam's apple bobbing as his eyes flit rapidly down her.

A warmth swirls in her gut at that.

She circles the table, “what about in the past?” 

He leans against the other side, his hand on the cushion, long fingers splayed on the green fabric. She has to shake her head to break her own trance.

“Can’t say my love life has exactly been a roaring success, honestly.”

The way he says it.

She wouldn't be surprised if he was…

Oh.

“So what? You're focussed on your studies?”

She misses. Too set on the conversation rather than the game.

He gives a mirthless laugh, “Sure.”

She rounds the table, holding the cue for him to take, but when he reaches for it, she pulls back with a smirk.

“So we've established you're not one for languages,” she starts, and Michael furrows his brows in confusion, “have you ever really asked for what you want? Ever?”

He seems to miss what she's trying to say.

“Have you been with a girl?”

At that, his eyes widen slightly, a blush crawling up his neck to the tips of his ears, cheeks near matching his shirt.

She knows she has her answer.

“Well…I…no, I haven't…”

At chest height, she can see the way his breathing elevates.

“And, hypothetically, if a girl expressed interest. What would you say?”

His lips part for a good few seconds before he gives a reply, “I’d…I um…I guess it depends who…”

It's like he's afraid she'll make fun of him for it. 

“What about, if it was me?” She asks, her voice lowering as she reaches out to pick some lint off his jumper, like it's the most normal thing in the world. His body goes all rigid as she does.

This isn't normal in his world.

Michael swallows thickly, “you're not taking the Mick out of me, are you?”

She shakes her head, “I just want you to feel comfortable asking for what you want.”

For someone who had so often thought about it, now when faced with the situation, he feels as if he doesn't know what to do or say.

She's still stood with the cue in one hand, close enough so that when she shifts her weight from foot to foot, her knee grazes his leg. It's interesting to watch him think so deeply about it. Convinced he's probably never thought of anything so much in his life.

“What if what I want is…you?”

The tension deepens like the tone and volume of his voice. And without effort, a smile finds its way to her face when she looks at his expression. He's frozen stiff, for once, not knowing what to say.

So nothing shocks her more when he grabs the pool cue as a means of pulling her to him, and he has to duck considerably to press his lips clumsily to hers. He's eager, that much is true, but it's clear he's inexperienced. But instead of causing discomfort, she thinks it's quite endearing.

The pool cue clangs to the floor as she braces her hands on his shoulders and chest, guiding his lips with her own in a slower, more careful movement. She feels the edge of the pool table bite into her lower back when he presses her against it, clearly excited, if the hardness that's flush to her stomach is anything to go by.

The hands she had been staring at not half an hour ago are bruising as they trace her waist and hips, with a grip tight enough to tell her exactly how much he's enjoying the experience.

For a moment, they're not in a common room alone, against a pool table, with ‘Cheetah-licious Christmas’ playing in the room over, the bass of which rumbles through the floor and into their chests.

The kiss lasts a long while, and she has a feeling he wants to savour it as if it's the last time he will ever be able to do it. 

One of her hands snakes its way to the back of his head, fingers gripping at his hair to pull him closer as either of them tilt to aid more contact between them. And at the little amount of tugging, Michael whines into her mouth, prompting him to pull away.

He looks halfway between mortified and pleased, his glasses having skewed to one side with the eagerness of what they'd done. And she laughs a bit, reaching up to fix them, which seems to make the mortification fade somewhat from his face.

Michael looks down between them, where his obvious erection is pressed to her, and pulls away slightly with a scarlet blush.

“Shit - sorry-”

“It's fine,” she reassures, “no need to be embarrassed.”

The words alone would be enough, if her hand hadn't snaked between their bodies to brush her palm over him. And if it were possible, his flush spreads to his neck, words failing him once more.

Her eyes flicker up to his, their lips all kiss-bruised and swollen.

“If you don't want to-”

“No, no, I want to…” he says, immediately embarrassed about how quick it was.

She smiles, one hand palming him through his jeans and the other trailing up his chest, “Sit down.”

He backs up to sit on a nearby sofa, watching with a kind of adoration as she makes space between his legs, her eyes glimmering at him as she slowly undoes his belt.

“If at any time, you need to stop, tell me.”

He gives a nervous laugh, his stomach muscles tightening, wondering probably if this is really happening to him, “Not sure I will want to…”

She smiles reassuringly, watching as his lips part as she palms him through his boxers, trying to suppress how impressed she is with his size.

It's always the skinny white guys.

“Well, the offer's there.” She smirks, pulling him from his boxers, Michael gives a suffered breath, feeling her touch on him and also her breath so close. He almost feels dizzy. The thought of this happening in this situation, with a party going on next door, is dangerous and exciting in equal measure.

She knows he has very limited experience, so decides not to tease him too much.

Michael gasps softly as she licks at the base of him, drawing a wet line with her tongue along the vein underneath, all the way to the tip. She concentrates her efforts slightly on the sensitive spot there before closing her mouth over the head of his cock, sucking gently.

She feels the way his thighs tense, and the blue disappearing as he closes his eyes. His fists are tight beside him, knuckles white, like he doesn't know if he should touch her or not. All he knows right now is that this feeling is brand new, and the sensation is so much already.

She pulls herself from him to run her tongue over his length, one hand moving to his hand, to encourage him. His blue eyes crack open just a bit, to understand what she's trying to tell him.

And she fights the urge to smile as his longer fingers swipe across her temple into her hair, his touch tender, soft and unsure as he holds her by it. 

Her lips wrap around him once more, pushing him further into her mouth, taking him steadily and slowly at first. Michael's hips move barely, chasing the friction that he's getting on his cock when she bobs her head on him and hollows her cheeks.

He watches with parted lips and warm cheeks, moving her hair away so he can watch himself disappear into her mouth over and over. Her hand massages the rest of him, giving him two unique sensations in one, something that earns her a deep, throaty moan.

When her eyes open to look at him, he thinks his heart stops in his chest for a split second. He closes his eyes, not able to bear the way she looks with his cock in her mouth if she looks right at him, feeling that if he did any longer he wouldn't last.

The sounds he emits don't stop there as she increases her pace on him, pressing her tongue to the underside of him and taking him deeper into her throat, humming around him at the heady scent of his skin.

It's only when she takes him as far as he will go, working hard to control her gag reflex that he gives the first genuine buck of his hips, tightening in her hair and a far-too-loud moan. If anyone in the next room were quiet and paying attention, they'd likely know exactly what was going on.

“Fuck-”

It only serves to spur her on as she pulls back, moving in a more steady, quick rhythm, that she is sure Michael is loving judging by the rate of his moans and the way he chokes out his words.

His stomach clenches and unclenches, his high creeping up on him as her mouth tightens around his length. 

“Shit - you need to - I'm gonna -” he chokes, weakly tugging her hair in an effort to pull her mouth off him before he cums.

If she didn't have his cock in her mouth she'd smile.

Her hand squeezes the base of him, and Michael throws his head back slightly, a long shuddered and choked moan reverberating through his chest. She swears she feels his thighs shake as she stills, warm ropes of his cum taste musky at the back of her throat.

His loud moan is followed quickly by more softer ones as her throat contracts to swallow as much as she can, briefly increasing the tension and friction around his sensitive length.

When she pulls off him with a pleased sigh, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Michael sits up slightly, having to gather his breath.

“Fucking hell…”

She takes it as a compliment and rises to her feet, her hands smoothing her skirt back down.

And she squeaks in delight as Michael quickly tucks himself away, barely doing up his jeans buttons before backing her up to the pool table again, kissing her fervently.

“What about you…do I…” he starts when he breaks away, panting softly. She smiles at the notion but shakes her head. This experience was for him alone.

“Not right now, don't feel inclined to,” she reassured, her hands on his chest, feeling the way his heart is beating rapidly beneath it.

“Right now?” he asks with a quiet, unsure tone, “does that mean…there's gonna be a next time?”

His tone is careful, and yet, she is able to detect something like desire there. An excitement for more, without seeming too eager so that he's not let down if she says no. Something that makes it clear he is 100% on board.

She bites back a grin.

“Quid Pro Quo, Michael.”

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[bunnithechubs]

when all hope is abandoned thats when you see the light.

big shout out to @elderwisp for sharing those overlays, you really helped me TF out :3

transcript:

SMZ Article

Love is in the air as Reina Blue and Joe Russo get cozy in the island of love Tartosa! Though many are rooting for the two both actor’s publicist made statements that these leaked photos were taken during the filming of their new movie. “I am in no shape to be in a relationship at the moment” Reina stated during a run in with a representative for SMZ, “I am focusing on my career and Joe is simply my coworker.” When asked about her recent split from San Myshuno Sun’s golden Come Back kid she had this to say, “Vinny and I want different things in our lives right now. I hope he finds what he’s looking for and I know he wants the same for me.” Despite the sweet words many believe it is all a facade. Though only time will tell..

a few more weeks later

V: Make sure you get my good side. R: Do you have any comment on Reina and her new boyfriend. V: Not really, have a good night boys.

text exchange between Vinny and unknown number:

Yesterday: I saw you on the news after my game… you look beautiful. Hows Tartosa? Today @ 9:15 pm: Your new bf looks really cute. A bit old but maybe that’s what you really like in a guy? 10:36 pm: So that’s it? You just move on to some older dude and I’m forgotten? You can’t even respond to me… coward shit. Bro… you are going to make me crash tf out.

dm exchange between reina and vinny:

V: You blocked me? Are you that immature and scared? All I want is for things to work out between us. Why don’t you at least LET ME TRY. R:Vinny we can’t do this. Please. I cannot talk to you when you’re being THIS crazy. Let me finish this movie and we can see about talking then. V: You want me to wait a year? Mean while you’re flirting with your handsome new costar?? R: I am not interesting in dating ANYONE. If you want to make this work then PUT IN THE WORK. I’m logging off, enjoy the strip club. V: Sometimes I wonder what the fuck I see in you that makes me pathetic for you.

on the dance floor:

V: The blonde you were dancing with, what’s her name? N: Dina, she’s my sister. Why? V: Is she single? N: That’s not my business, you ask her. D: Do you have a lighter on you? V: I might in my apartment back in the Art’s Quarter. D: That’s not very useful to my problem right now. V: I’m not really a problem solver. D: Neither am I.

text betwee cain and vinny:

V: hey, im sorry to text so late…. but i need help. Can you come see me? C: omw.

[compress1repress]

i feel like i never read abt patrick getting aftercare 😭 i feel like it's usually regulated to bottom art fics since he comes across as more in need of affirmation? but we all know pat is just as hungry for that shit, probably on an even deeper fear-rooted level. like i think he's usually a yapper and bounces right back but once in a while gets super quiet and it freaks artashi out. he makes me think of that daredevil tweet that's like "[patrick zweig] cries before and after sex but never during. during sex he has a fucking JOB to do"

yasss boy loves to be smacked around and degraded by the ppl he loves! boy has also been alone for 12 years! boy has mad abandonment issues! boy probably has sexual trauma from being on the road! in conclusion: boy needs to be squeezed and headscratched and loved on 🙏 artashi im beaming you a mission from god

AO3 VERSION

ok sorry I wrote a 4k+ word fic (that got a bit dark) in response to this 😭 but let me ramble first:

I think about this a LOT (my throuple fic that I'm in the process of writing gets into this a little, and artashi will be giving him that aftercare 🙏) but yeah he has been SO lonely he needs to be hugged so bad but he would never say that.

i think safewords would be such an issue for him because he would be terrible at using them. or if they don't have specific safewords he's just bad at expressing when something is too much for him. Because he loves to be degraded and he's a masochist so he loves pain even when it hurts too much because it feels good... mostly. but when it gets to a point of not feeling good or he's just not in the mood for it that day, he refuses to say that

it's partially an ego thing, that he wouldn't want to admit that he couldn't take something but also i think it ties up with him needing to sleep with people for a place to stay and the weird power dynamics of that

Anyway I got struck with inspiration so here's the fic :)

art x tashi x patrick

cw: nsfw mdni, consent issues, rough sex, blood

***

1.

It had been a particularly rough session, like it often was. The way Patrick loved. Having them shoving him around, pushing him down, humiliating him, degrading him. It was working for him until it wasn't.

He was laid out on his back, Tashi was riding him as Art made out with her. They often did this, a punishment for him when he'd been annoying (on purpose). They'd fuck him but basically ignore him, only focusing on eachother. Like he was a toy for them to use however they liked. It was fucking hot.

Today though it made nausea swirl in his stomach.

Did they even want him here? What's to stop them doing this with any random guy off the street? What if they got bored of him, replaced him, and then he was on his own again?

He tries to shake it off because he's into this, and they don't always ignore him. They only do it when he's purposefully driven them to it, because he wants it.

He tries to grab at Tashi's waist even though he's not allowed. Neither of them look at him as Art pushes his hand off and Tashi brings a hand across his face, the sound of the slap echoing.

She does it a lot, it gets him off, except because she's not looking she hits slightly off, catching his nose with her wedding ring.

The pain radiates and he brings a hand up to his nose. Blood. Shit.

His dick twitches at first but then the pain gets worse, a deep aching. That combined with the fact that it was her wedding ring, identical to Art's. The wedding rings they have because they are married to eachother. That Patrick doesn't have because he's not part of that. Not connected to them in any meaningful way.

He feels wetness at the corner of his eyes, willing it away because it's fucking stupid. And Art and Tashi haven't finished yet so he's got to hold on. He can handle a bloody nose, he's not a pussy.

They haven't noticed so he doesn't say anything, trying to just focus on the feeling of Tashi warm and tight around him, of the sight of Art's back, his muscles flexing as he rubs at Tashi's clit.

He can almost cope but then because he's lying down, he feels the blood block his nose, starting to unpleasantly drip down the back of his throat. He's trying so hard to hold on, doesn't want it to end, doesn't want to look weak.

Suddenly the feeling of it at his throat is too much and he starts to cough, sitting up and spluttering.

"What the fuck," they both say in unison turning to him.

Then they take him in properly. He probably looks a mess, blood around his nose and now coming out of his mouth as he spits it out.

"What happened?" Art's asking, his eyebrows drawn together as a vaguely horrified look crosses his face.

"Was that me?" Tashi's sliding off him now, worry in her voice.

"We don't have to stop, it looks worse than it feels," he assures, even though it feels pretty fucking bad, "it's fine, I think you just clipped me in the nose with your ring."

He's smiling at them but they just look more concerned.

"Patrick, why didn't you use the safeword?" Tashi asks, more confused than angry.

They did have a safeword, even though Patrick didn't feel like he needed one. It was more for Art and Tashi than it was for him.

He'd suggested something tennis related but Tashi had vetoed saying it might be confusing in case they were just using that word normally, not in the safeword way.

Patrick had asked why the fuck Novak Djokovic would come up naturally during sex but Art had just agreed with Tashi.

They settled on bumblebee in the end, which felt a little ridiculous but he figured it didn't matter since he wouldn't be using it.

"I didn't use the safeword because I'm fine, a little blood isn't going to keep me down," his insistance is undermined somewhat by the way his voice sounds, so he coughs a little more to clear his throat.

Then he's having a coughing fit which just makes everything worse because his eyes are watering like crazy now. It might look like he's crying or something.

"Shit, Patrick," Art is scrambling over to tap him on the back, "are you okay?"

Once he stops coughing, he responds, "yes, let's get back to it."

"I don't think any of us want to carry on, you don't have to-" Art starts but Patrick interrupts.

"I'm not doing anything, I'm being serious, I think it's hot," he grins at them but it comes out strained, "I can be into blood."

"No one's asking you to be into it," Tashi tells him, an edge to her voice.

Art's rubbing his back and Tashi's staring at him intently, probably looking at the way his eyes are still damp.

"I know, I just mean I'm not crying over a slap or something," he feels the need to say, "I like it."

"No one would think you're a pussy for using the safeword," Tashi tells him, "we have one for a reason."

"Especially if you are literally choking on your own blood," Art jokes, before getting solemn, looking deeply at him, "Patrick, seriously, it's fucking scary."

"Alright, in the future I'll try to have less scary sex injuries," he teases.

"No, in the future you'll use the safeword," Tashi cuts in, tone stern

"Alright," he holds his hands up, smiling.

"I mean it, Patrick, it's not funny," her face is absent of anger, that's how he knows she's being earnest, "you've got to promise me you'll use it."

He doesn't say anything so she continues.

"I won't fuck you if you don't," she threatens.

"Sure," he nods, trying to keep some levity, and because he knows Tashi couldn't keep that promise. She can tell what he's thinking.

"Fine, I'll make him stop fucking you," she points to Art. Oh, she's serious.

He looks to Art who just shrugs.

"Fine, I promise to use the safeword," he sighs but looks Tashi in the eyes, hoping that she'll know he means it. She must because she nods at him satisfied.

"Oh thank god, I was really going to miss fucking you," Art whispers in his ear.

"Yeah?" Patrick smirks trying to lean in to Art but he bumps his nose sending a shock wave of pain, "shit."

"But we're definitely not doing that today," Art gives him a kiss on the shoulder instead.

Before Patrick can call him a killjoy he sees Tashi glaring at him, so he adjusts his answer, "yeah ok, no more fucking today."

"Good," Tashi stands up, "now I'm going to get you a towel, and you better hope none of that blood got on my sheets."

He smiles to himself. She's looking after him. It's very sweet.

As she heads to the bathroom, Art moves to sit in front of him, "you look crazy."

"Wish you'd been the one to do it?" He can't stop himself saying.

"Patrick," is all Art says, pleading, warning and exasperated all at once.

"I was joking," he tries but Art just sighs.

He reaches a hand to the corner of Patrick's eye, swiping with his thumb, he doesn't say anything more except, "I'm getting you a painkiller."

When they both come back they work together to clean him up, it's really not that much blood, and he spat most of it into his hands. Still, Tashi is precise in the way she dabs the towel at his face, avoiding pressing too hard or too close to his nose.

As Tashi rubs his hands, Art uses his forefinger under Patrick's chin to tilt his head up, putting two ibuprofen on his tongue. He even holds the glass of water to Patrick's mouth.

He swallows the pill, and Art rubs his back again, softly. Tashi keeps cleaning him, even when he knows the blood must be gone, inspecting his hands, holding his face to make sure it's all gone.

He thinks this might be the most they've touched him without fucking him. Well, since he'd 'moved in' at least. Might be the most anyone's touched him, non-sexually, in the past decade. He tries not to think about.

Doesn't want to ruin how nice this is. Maybe using a safeword wouldn't be so bad.

***

2.

Patrick hadn't been in the mood today, it was a rare occurrence but it happens. Art and Tashi clearly had been, so Patrick had gone along with it.

On the couch watching some bullshit home renovation show that Tashi put on when she wanted to pretend like they were actually going to watch TV. Patrick had observed the way they got closer, Art rubbing at Tashi's thigh as she kept directing his hand up further.

He liked watching them like this, it was still nice this time but he just couldn't find it in himself to get horny. They kept looking over at him and he felt the need to insert himself, joining in at Tashi's other side, kissing at her neck. He's sure it will come to him soon.

It doesn't, even as they all stumble into the bedroom, making out, getting each other undressed until they were all naked. Patrick lay out, enjoying watching them, being close to them, but he just wasn't horny.

He could just watch them fuck, he's done it before, but the fun of that is that Art and Tashi get to see how bad he wants them. How he can't have them. He'll sit watching, dick straining through his pants if he's tied up, or furiously jerking off if he's not.

But that only works if he's hard. They're not going to want him sitting there, flaccid and not interested in fucking them. He's no use to them like that. What's the point of him being in the room? He'll probably have to go sleep in the guest room while they fuck it out.

What's the point of him even being here at all, if he's not going to fuck them? Isn't that why they're letting him stay? Isn't that why anyone lets him stay?

"Patrick," Art snaps him out of his thoughts, "are you okay?"

"Yeah, just zoned out," he looks up at them.

"Right," Tashi says, slow.

Before they can think about it too much he pushes himself up to join again, make himself useful, prove why he's here. He grabs the back of Tashi's head pressing his lips to hers, letting Art come up behind him, his front against Patrick's back.

Tashi pushes at him, wanting him to turn to Art, meaning she wants them to kiss for her. He can work with that. He's not getting hard but he can work with it.

Tashi's at his back now, kissing his neck, he connects his and Art's lips, trying to make it good. He wonders how long he can get away with it.

"I want you to fuck me," he whispers to Art.

"How bad?" Art asks, but then, shit, he's reaching his hand down his body, "Patrick?"

"Yeah?" He pretends not to know what Art is asking.

"What's wrong?" Tashi rests her chin on his shoulder.

"He's not-" Art starts but Patrick stops him.

"That's why I said I wanted you to fuck me, don't need my dick for that," he tries to lean back in but Art pulls away. Patrick tries not to let it sting.

"I don't think he's going to want to fuck you if you're not into it," Tashi interjects.

"We can do doggy style, that way he'll never know," Patrick attempts but clearly it isn't funny to them, "I just mean, I'm sure little Patrick will perk up after some action."

"Don't fucking-" Art starts before adjusting himself, "if you're not in the mood it's okay."

"I'll get in the mood, or" he has an idea, slipping off the bed, getting on his knees, "I can blow you, let you use my mouth."

"Not the point Patrick," Tashi narrows her eyes.

"Don't worry I won't leave you out, you can sit on my face after," he grins at her.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Tashi's suddenly snapping, desperation tinging her words, "of course we don't want to fuck you when you're not into it, who do you think we are?"

"I know," he gets out, voice small.

"Then why are you so insistent?" Art cuts in.

"It's what I'm here for."

What I am for, in general. He wants to say.

"Is that what we're for?" Tashi raises an eyebrow at him.

"It's your house," is all he can think to say, but it's clearly wrong because both their faces drop.

"What and you're paying your way here with your body or something, is that what you think?" Tashi's angry, and all he can do is stay knelt, "we're your fucking pimps?"

"Well technically you'd be Johns, since you're the customers," he jokes.

Tashi just stands up and starts getting dressed silently, before walking out, closing the door behind her. Then he's just left kneeling, staring up at Art.

Art turns away, reaching for his clothes too. Patrick can't even move, just left naked and alone.

"Get up here," Art speaks, shaking Patrick out of his thoughts, "and put some clothes on."

He finally gets up, grabbing his boxers, pulling them on silently before taking a seat next to Art on the edge of the bed.

"I don't get it, since when would you sleep with someone, not for your own pleasure?"

"Are you calling me selfish?" Patrick smiles.

Art finally returns it, "yeah, I am."

Tashi comes back in, standing with her hands on her hips but she looks on edge, "Are you ready to be serious now?"

You came back. He doesn't say that.

She looks between them both, "why are you smiling?"

"Art was telling me how selfish I usually am," Patrick explains.

Tashi's lips twitch at that and she moves to sit on the bed with them, on Patrick's other side.

"That's why I'm confused, it's not like you to be like this," her voice goes softer, "you really think we're that awful?"

"It's not a big deal okay, it's not about you," he just wants to move on.

"Do you actually think we'd kick you out for not fucking us?" Art looks nervous, fiddling with his fingers.

"I don't know," Patrick does know, but he's not going to say. Not going tell Art he's scared of being alone again, "it happens."

"What do you mean?" Art asks.

Patrick groans, falling back and throwing an arm over his face, "nothing."

It makes him feel like a child.

"Patrick, you know when I saw you at the hotel with that woman, how often do you do that?" Tashi pushes not letting him off, and shit, she's too smart.

"What woman?" Art questions.

"Don't be jealous," Patrick interjects but they both ignore him.

"He was using a date to find a place to sleep," Tashi answers and Patrick peeks out from under his arm to see his reaction. Art actually grimaces.

Ugh.

"So what? Sorry I can't afford fancy fucking hotels every week," his skins itches with the feeling of their eyes on him, "you can't be mad at me for sleeping around, it's none of your business."

They were married to eachother, and they're mad at him for sleeping with a few (many) random people? It's not fair.

"I'm not mad, I'm concerned," Art tries to stroke his thigh, probably in comfort, but it makes him feel worse.

"Fucking prudes," he mutters to himself, "you expected me to celibate for a decade? Me?"

"Did you ever do this with them? Having sex when you weren't hard?" Tashi won't let up and he hates how she's picking him apart.

"Well if I'm on a date with a complete stranger and asking to go back to their place, it's kind of expected, I can't just not have sex with them" he says trying to prove how ridiculous it would be but they just look more worried, "most of the time I was into it, I like to fuck," he shrugs.

"But not all the time?" Art presses.

"I guess, but it's not like I could just be like oh sorry I don't want to have sex right now but can you just let me stay in your house anyway?" He laughs but it's a hollow fake thing.

It really wasn't often but sometimes when he'd been staying at someone's for a few nights, and he was tired from a match he wouldn't really want to have sex that night. Or when someone didn't look like their picture. Or when they were into something that he wasn't. Or he was into it but didn't particularly trust the person.

Sometimes he would leave, just sleep in his car instead or find another date if it wasn't too late. But other times he really needed a place and it felt worth it, it's not like he was being forced or anything. There just weren't that many options.

"Patrick you have to know that's kind of fucked," Art is moving the arm off his face, trying to look him in the eyes.

"I don't want to talk about it," he can't get into it now, not with their faces looking like that.

Art tries to say something else but Tashi saves him, "we can stop for tonight."

He knows they'll have to talk about it another time but he's grateful she's finally letting him off the hook.

"But you can't do that with us, ever again," she continues, sharp and serious, "we're not random strangers from a fucking dating app. You have to tell us if you're not in the mood."

"I know," he replies, looking at the ceiling.

"We're not going to kick you out for not having a boner," Art says it so sincerely that it makes Patrick laugh.

Art glares at him.

"I believe you, man, it's just the way you worded it," Patrick holds his hands up in surrender, Art smiles, and he thinks even Tashi does a little.

"Alright, let's just go to sleep," Art taps his leg.

They let him sleep in their bed that night, the first time he's been allowed to do that outside from when they pass out there after sex.

It's nice. Really nice.

***

3.

This time had been great. He'd been in the mood. Really in the mood. Grabbing at Tashi and Art desperately, touching himself even when they told him not to. He knew how to get what he wanted.

Laid out on his back with his hands above his head tied to the bed post. Art was fucking into him, tight grip on his thighs, and Tashi was riding his face.

It was perfect, he couldn't move, all his senses completely overtaken by them both. They'd teased him, got him close to the edge a few times but not let him over, he couldn't see but he could feel his dick straining, probably bright pink and leaking.

He could barely breathe as Tashi used his mouth to get off, grinding against his face until she was shaking with her orgasm. She slides off him and he takes in a deep breath.

Now his mouth is free he's immediately asking, "touch me?"

"You're so impatient," she's out of breath too.

"Art?" He's pleading with his eyes.

"Don't go running to him for help," she grabs his face turning it to her, "you never fucking learn."

God it's getting him off, his brain fuzzy, not working right, "can't think."

"Can't do anything right," she spits at him.

He wants to remind her he just got her off but he's too desperate, just wants somebody to touch him.

"Sorry," he gets out, moaning as Art thrusts into him somehow faster.

Tashi's smirks, like she always does when he's too fucked out to fight back anymore. When she's won.

He fucking loves it.

She takes mercy on him, "guess I can forgive you, not your fault you get so stupid on his dick. Not your fault you're such a slut for it."

He's whining, trying not to beg.

Tashi knows what he wants, she turns to Art, "what do you think, baby? Has he earned it?"

Patrick squeezes around Art making him moan, "fuck. So tight."

"Art." Tashi scolds.

"Yeah, yeah he's earned it," he rambles out.

Patrick looks up at Tashi, begging with his eyes, she's in a good mood today so she nods in agreement.

"Alright, you've earned it," she moves her hand on his face, prying his mouth open with her fingers, "but you haven't been good, this is still a punishment, so I want you choking around my fingers, okay?"

Patrick nods the best he can with her hand in his mouth like that. She does this more often now, warning him before she does something.

Then she's shoving her fingers in, without hesitation to the back of his throat. He gags around them and it makes Art fuck him harder.

"That's right," she smirks at him, then addresses Art, "only touch him when you're about to come."

It turns out that's pretty soon because Art's hips are stuttering and he's reaching for Patrick's dick. He's so close too, with Art stretching him, the ache in his arms, and the burn of the restraints on his wrists. The way Tashi is relentless with her fingers, basically fucking his mouth.

It doesn't take much more, the feeling of Art's cum spilling inside him and a few clumsy strokes pushes him over the edge.

As he finishes his hips jerk up and he instinctively takes Tashi's fingers deeper, cutting off his breathing for a moment.

When Art pulls out, and Tashi removes her hand he feels dizzy, on a different plane of existence.

He thinks they're asking him something but he can't hear, just lays there breathing.

Suddenly feeling awash with dread for some reason.

"Was I good?" He says, but it gets caught in his throat. Not sure anything actually came out.

He's vaguely aware of one of them untying his wrists, and he finally relaxes his arms at his side.

"Patrick," Art's shaking him by the shoulder, and he's finally able to hear again.

"Sorry, my ears were ringing," he gives a weak smile.

He doesn't want to get up but he knows it's time for him to go to the guest room. Tashi's mom is coming over early in the morning which means he can't sleep in their bed.

"I'll just clean up in your bathroom then go to bed," he mumbles out, on autopilot.

He gets up, aching all over. Aware of them watching him.

Was I good? Echos in his head but he keeps his mouth shut.

After cleaning the cum off himself he leaves their en suite, ready to walk past them silently to go to the guest room.

Tashi's standing there, "get in the bed," she orders.

He crawls in reluctantly, knowing it's only going to make it harder when he has to leave,"I can't fall asleep here remember, your mom's coming over early."

He's got Art on one side of him as Tashi slips in on his other side, "we'll just wake up early, she won't come to the bedroom anyway."

"You can sleep in though," Art chimes in, "you must be tired."

"Not too much," Tashi adds, pausing, "but yeah, sleep in a little."

"I can sleep here?" He still sounds out of it, half wondering if he's not hearing correctly.

"You've done it before," Tashi chuckles, all warm and soft.

"I know," he breathes out, "but never when other people will be here."

Tashi just hums, stroking his bicep, "how do your arms feel?"

"They ache a bit," he says carefully, she doesn't normally ask about that.

Art's touching him too, inspecting where the restraints had been, "and your wrists?"

"Sore, I guess," he answers.

Tashi keeps stroking him, and Art is kissing at the red marks on his wrist.

"Was I good?" Spills out of Patrick finally, and actually audible this time.

Art's face crumples a bit, but he regains composure, "yeah, you were good."

"Really, good," Tashi adds, kissing his shoulder, "so good for us, right Art?"

"The best," Art's pulling him in, cuddling him as Tashi presses up behind him.

If he had asked why they were being so nice to him Art and Tashi would've said something like this: because after you finished you went basically unresponsive, and didn't reply when we asked if you were ok. Then when you finally did, you got up like a fucking zombie, walking to the bathroom with this horrible look on your face. Felt like you needed to be treated gentle. Even if you'd never say that.

He doesn't ask though, doesn't say anything else, just lets them kiss at him, telling him that he did a good job.

Art pushes himself further up the mattress so that Patrick can fall asleep tucked into his neck, and he can kiss the top of Patrick's head. Tashi spoons him from behind, an arm draped over him.

He falls asleep pressed between them, they hold him tight, covering every part of him, squeezing out the last drops of loneliness.

***

an: not proofread but will probably be cross posting to ao3 soon, thank you for reading :) (more Patrick being treated nice in other fics, i promise 🙏)

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

“I love you, and I am terrified of what that means.” Simon admitted quietly, his eyes drifting down toward his twiddling fingers as you sat across from him.

Your head perked up, your eyes softening as you looked over at your lieutenant. Your heart felt like it was practically beating out of your chest, your mind struggling to absorb what he’d just confessed to you.

The two of you were stuck in an abandoned home after a failed mission, waiting for much needed evacuation to come and rescue you. Both of you were relatively unharmed, but you’d had a very close call much to Simon’s dismay.

“You love me?” You asked after a moment, struggling to steady your shaking hands. There was no way he returned your affections, no way in hell. After years of working together, you could’ve sworn Simon only ever saw you as a comrade.

Simon said nothing in return as he picked at his nails, his mind swirling with everything he wanted to tell you. Words were not his strong suit, and he shocked even himself when he admitted his deeply rooted feelings for you.

“Simon, I-.”

“When I saw that gun pointed at you, I felt..” Simon took a deep breath before continuing. “If you had died, I don’t know how I would’ve lived with myself.”

“I’m okay though, Simon. I’m alive.”

“No, you don’t get it Y/N.” Simon stood, running his hands through his hair in frustration. His voice was cracking slightly, and it was clear he hadn’t been this distressed in quite some time.

“Help me understand, Simon. Please, let me in.” You pressed gently, not daring move from your spot as you watched him pace at the window.

Simon stopped pacing, and instead stood looking out the shattered window, his eyes landing on the starless sky. “I realized in that moment, when I thought you were going to be killed.. I realized that my heart would stop beating if I never saw your face again.”

A soft sob escaped your lips at his words, and your hands flew to your mouth as tears began to fall down your cheeks. You shakily made your way to your feet, desperately trying to steady your racing heart as you slowly made your way to him.

“And I’m fucking terrified, Y/N. I don’t know how to deal with how I’m feeling, I don’t know how to act, how to think. This is uncharted territory for me.” Simon turned as he spoke, his eyes widening as you were closer to him than before.

“I am too.” You admitted, looking into Simon’s deep brown eyes. “I’m so scared. I spent all this time thinking you never felt the same, and now that I know you do, it..it becomes real. But I trust you, Simon.”

His breath began to quicken as you stepped another inch toward him, your hand reaching to cup his masked cheek softly. “If you continue whatever it is you’re about to do, I can’t promise we can come back from this.”

Standing on your toes, you gave Simon a soft smile before pulling up his mask, revealing his scarred lips. “I know.”

Throwing caution to the wind, Simon grabbed your chin softly, tilting your head up toward him. His brown eyes flickered from your eyes, then to your lips. “Okay.”

With one final glance at your eyes, Simon pressed his lips to yours, and in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not what came next, not what this meant for the two of you….simply just you and him, and the kiss he never wanted to end.

[valeisaslut]

ELLIE PISSING ME OFFFF

Jesse clocked her tea about thinking she’s the only one with problems like girllllll the way she was talking to them made me so mad💔💔💔💔💔💔

i know a lot is the drugs and addiction talking but she’s lucky she even has people that genuinely care about her anymore ffs

UR SO EVIL… MY BRAIN IS FRIED :(((

ohhhh I WANTED TO GET INTO THIS SO BAD. this is gonna be long. it’s gonna be emotional. and it’s gonna hurt a little. because what’s happening in collide right now is not just drama for drama’s sake — it’s an unraveling that’s been building for years. and everyone involved is hurting.

COLLIDE!ELLIE’S BEHAVIOR: AN ANALYSIS (Aka why she's spiraling and being awful)

you’re right to be mad. she is acting out. she’s being cruel. defensive. manipulative. and when jesse called her out for thinking she’s the only one with problems — he was absolutely right. because that’s exactly how addiction warps your world: it makes your pain feel like the only pain that matters.

ellie’s in full collapse mode, and she doesn’t even see it. she thinks she’s still functioning. she thinks the music, the shows, the sex, the rage — all of it is keeping her going. but it’s actually just killing her slower. and in the process, she’s lashing out at the people who’ve been trying to carry her for years.

and it didn’t start in chapter 8. ellie’s been lying, manipulating, brushing things off with fake charm and sarcasm since the beginning.

and jesse and dina? they’ve always covered for her. they’ve always picked up the slack. they’ve always stayed. even when it hurt.

THE ROOT: Addiction as Survival and Self-Sabotage.

ellie doesn’t think she’s lovable unless she’s suffering. she doesn’t think she’s real unless she’s in pain. so when people try to help her — really help her — she pushes them away. she lies. she performs. she shuts down or explodes. not because she doesn’t care. but because care feels foreign. it feels threatening to someone who’s spent so long building their identity around being the fucked-up one.

her addiction feeds off that belief. it convinces her that people only love her when she’s raw and bleeding. so when reader starts getting worried, and jesse confronts her, and dina cracks — she sees it all as a betrayal, instead of what it really is: love.

that’s why she talks to them the way she does. not because she doesn’t love them.

but because she thinks love means taking pain together in silence.

and when that illusion breaks? she panics.

JESSE & DINA.

and god. they deserve so much credit. jesse and dina have been putting up with this for years. every lie. every 3am emergency. every time she flaked on soundcheck or made the band about her. they let it go because they love her. because they remember the good in her. because they believed she could get better.

but in chapter 8, we finally see how they feel. they snap in this last tour. not because they stopped caring — it’s because they couldn’t carry it anymore.

dina breaking down wasn’t weakness. it was the result of years of strength. jesse yelling wasn’t cruelty. it was exhaustion. they’ve been slowly abandoned by someone who’s still physically there — and that’s a unique kind of grief.

they love ellie. they always have. but love doesn’t mean setting yourself on fire to keep someone else warm.

WHERE DOES THAT LEAVE US?

everyone’s hurting. ellie most of all. but she’s not the only one hurting. and that’s what this part of the story is about — recognizing that addiction doesn’t just destroy the person who has it. it fractures everyone around them.

you’re right to be mad at her. and you’re right to still want her to get better. because the tragedy of ellie is: she knows she’s hurting people. but she doesn’t believe she’s worth saving anymore.

and that’s the darkest place to be.

chapter 8 broke everything open. but that means, for the first time, things can start to change. the mask is off. the excuses are done. and now? it’s just ellie. finally out of time.

and joel.

we’re not done yet.

hold on.

[esstrellaa123]

Saw a fic of crybaby!reader, and was like? My two sense????

Don’t ask how many words :>

Thinking of reader right, all silent for like… a week. Caught up in their head with God knows what, and boom. Sweet Simon finally cracks that fragile barrier you’ve put between the two of you

Because Lord knows Simon hates silence, especially from you. Talk to him, won’t you?

“You’ve yet to speak.” He says blankly, prompting you as he watches you intently like he might be able to see into your very soul. He’s done it before, but now you’re just being difficult >:(

“I’m coloring.” You say just as blank, devoid of the emotion he usually enjoyed. The sun to his world was going dark and he’d do anything to clear those clouds away. Anything. Even if it burned him.

“I like it when you talk.” He tries, arms crossed. Defensive, and unamused by your lack of enthusiasm.

“Not in the mood to.” You all but snap, getting annoyed with him. You let out a harsh huff, coloring a little too hard. Now your drawing was ruined because the pressure changed the color. Everything was fucked. Fuck this.

You tear the page out unceremoniously, tossing it carelessly to the trash before getting overwhelmed with having to start another complex piece. You couldn’t do anything about it now, your old piece was in the trash and-

“Why’re you touching me?” You snap again, jerking away from his hands.

“Alright. What the fuck?” He finally says. Maybe he was more upset at your reaction towards him than you. Either way, he’s getting to the bottom of what he thought was complete and utter bullshit.

“What do you mean ‘what the fuck?’ I don’t want you touching me.” You say, face to face. More like chest to face, but who’s counting the inches? (YES IM AMERICAN)

Okay, ouch. “I’m trynna help here!” He grumbles back down at you.

“I don’t want your stupid help.” You say back, abandoning your art and going to the room. The bang of the door reaches his ears louder than he liked.

“Fucking bullshit. Fucking women.” He grumbles, going out to the porch to smoke.

He’s unhappy. Very exasperated and wanting to break some shit. But he’s better. He got better for you.

He finishes his smoke, somewhat calmed. Maybe you were hungry. Had you had water?

“I don’t want-” you start up but he’s having none of it. Not when his patience is spread thin and he’d really like to spread you open. So be cooperative.

“Nah, shut- shut up.” He cuts you off, setting the tray of food down on the bed. Fruits, peanut butter, chocolate, and some water. “Eat.” He says, sliding under you.

“‘M not hungry.” You say, crossing your arms.

…..

You sit in his lap, being hand fed as you watch your Law and Order. “Water.” He instructs, watching you take a sip before opening your mouth for another strawberry. He delivers.

You’re more responsive now. He’s appreciative of that. But food wasn’t the root of this problem. Neither was water. Something else was bothering you.

“Feel better?” He asks, letting you curl up on his side, using him for all his warmth and comfort.

You nod into the crook of his neck, finding comfort in his tone and smell. “Feel better.” You confirm.

“Wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?” He finally questions.

“Nothin’s goin’ on.” You huff.

“Don’t huff at me.” He says, flicking your forehead. He let you get away with that shit this morning. There would not be a repeat.

“Just wanna relax.” You breathe, turning over.

“You’ll relax when you get it off your chest.” He turns over, curling around you like heat does a fire. Like it’s natural to be enveloped by a certified heater, it’s second nature.

You can’t help but lean in, scooting back, pulling his arms closer. “Just tired.”

“Tired of what?” He pushes.

“Life.” You mumble, the tears welling. You didn’t like thinking like this, but it plagues you. Sneaks and floods into your day. Your smile dropping too quickly for your own liking. You just wanted to curl up, sleep, and stay in your dreams.

He only hugs you closer. He doesn’t move as you shift, your face pressed firmly into his chest as the tears finally fall.

“I got ya. Si’s got ya.” He mumbles lovingly, rubbing your back, pulling you impossibly closer as you cling to his back. “Tell me what you need, hm?” He suggests, letting you nuzzle into his warmth even more.

“You.” You reply simply. There’s nothing you want or love more than lying in bed with him. You’d stay there, keep him there, even if you had to tie him down, but ultimately knew you wouldn’t, because he’d stay if you asked.

He hummed, low. You almost missed it, and he just holds you, keeping you close.

He’d be there in the morning, letting you cry on his shoulder again if you needed. He’d kiss all your tears away, kiss your tension away. It eased his, made him feel better, let him relax. He’d be your safe space if you promised to be his….

[warblogs17282]

I'm busy thinking about the fact that we can see how a lot of the conflict between Stolas and Octavia has roots in the unhealthy family dynamics brought on in Stolas' childhood.

Mainly inspired from a quote I heard from someone reacting to the episode, that being something along the lines of "Fucked up parents create fucked up children.", and tbh, I can kinda see that with Stolas and Octavia.

Also, let's get one other thing out of the way as well, the family dynamic Stolas and Octavia had before Blitz came into his life was never healthy at all.

The line 'You have always been the only good thing in my life!' hits really hard for a few reasons, with one of them being because it shows that before Blitz came into his life, Octavia was practically Stolas' whole life. Which naturally is not healthy for either of them, while your child is a very significant and important part of your life, they should still not be literally your entire life.

And well, Stolas being like that makes sense, you can see roots of that within Stolas' isolated childhood and upbringing, the only person Stolas had as a friend was Blitz when he was a child, and even then, they didn't see each other again for the next 25 years, leaving Stolas with basically no one else, no other friends to talk to, etc.

And you can see that manifest itself into the family dynamics between Stolas and Octavia, because Stolas has no social life at all outside of the family, and his family, which as a result, leads to Octavia being practically Stolas' whole world, as shown by that line he said.

The line is also quite interesting as well, because in one side, we have Octavia being practically Stolas' whole world, but I also believe the vice versa of that line is true as well.

Which I suppose is the segway into the section of what happens when an imp comes along and absolutely shatters that unhealthy family dynamic.

Something the show has made clear is that a lot of Octavia's life has also revolved around Stolas, which makes sense, but the issue here is that I'm pretty sure that almost all of Octavia's life revolved around Stolas or the family in some way, as I'm pretty sure that this also leads us to a conclusion that Octavia has no support system at all, no actual friends, etc. Which is something that we recognize is quite similar to Stolas, as he also had no support system, no friends, etc, until he met Blitz at that fateful party.

Especially if we consider the fact that Stella is both a neglectful and abusive parent, so it's not like Octavia had the support of both parents here, Octavia only had the support and attention of Stolas her entire upbringing and childhood.

You all remember the "so that girl could live a normal life" comment Stolas made in s2 e1? I believe that this family dynamic is exactly what Stolas was referring to when he said that, Stolas also believed that the family dynamic at play was a normal and healthy thing for the child, when it was anything but.

Which brings us into the events after Blitz came into Stolas' life, when that the family dynamics Stolas was referring to with that 'normal life' comment were completely shattered.

The family dynamics bring up something interesting to me about Octavia, I feel like her upbringing and childhood is also part of the reason as to why she feels like Stolas has abandoned and replaced her with Blitz, why she struggles to understand the fact that Stolas can care for and love Blitz a lot, while also caring for and loving her a lot as well.

Obviously there's more to the situation to it than just this, there's other things like Stolas failing to properly explain the situation and other things that Octavia really should've known, to give an example. But at the same time, I still can't help but think that all of this has roots in the unhealthy family dynamics between them that got shattered when Blitz entered Stolas' life.

And well, it was Octavia's lack of knowledge about the situation that led to her coming to the conclusions she did, such as the conclusions she came to when she found the happy pills, for example.

Octavia's song also makes something else clear, that she used to think that him and Stella had a happy marriage until Blitz arrived in his life, and we know that the reason Octavia used to think that is because of Stolas hiding the abuse he suffered to give Octavia a 'normal life', which as I've stated before, this 'normal life' also included the unhealthy family dynamics between them, the same one where Stolas' entire life revolved around Octavia and the family, and vice versa for Octavia.

Which is the main reason why I believe that the unhealthy family dynamics is a part of the reason of why Octavia said and did what she did this episode, because Blitz actually started the transition into healthier family dynamics, with those being Stolas finally getting the courage to get the divorce, and Stolas having someone in his life outside of the family, no longer having Octavia and Stolas' family quite literally be all that there is to his life.

But here's the thing, because of Octavia's unintentionally lonely upbringing with the unhealthy family dynamics she doesn't know the full situation of, I don't think she recognizes that it is not healthy for the parent or the child for their entire world to be centered around their child plus the family, and vice versa. Plus for the same reasons and a bit more, I don't think she properly recognizes that Stolas can love and care for both Blitz and Octavia a lot at the same time.

As I have stated before, we point to multiple other reasons as to why Octavia behaved, said and believes in what she did, such as her feeling abandoned and replaced by Blitz, and I definitely agree with you all on that Stolas is nowhere near entirely innocent in this whole situation for multiple reasons, but at the same time, I still believe that at least part of this reason why has something to do with Octavia's upbringing, and the unhealthy family dynamics associated with said upbringing, which has roots in Stolas' extremely isolated and lonely upbringing.

Just to be clear, I am not blaming Octavia for anything here, and I am also not hating on Stolas for choosing to be happy with Blitz as well, while I have stated multiple times that Stolas did indeed fuck-up on multiple occasions, I am still not choosing a side here regarding the whole situation. I will not accept any Stolas or Octavia slander, as I have stated multiple times by now.