#I’m going to punch a squirrel

[alphinna]

How the heck do you guys have so much writers motivation- I said I do one fic chapter every day of October and instead I’ve been doing none one day then 2 the next day 😭

#ironstrange #fiction #fanfiction #cry #I’m going to punch a squirrel #october #hw soon though

[autisticlancemcclain]

“No.”

Lance groans loudly, forgoing smacking his face in his hands and going straight for banging his head repeatedly against the elevator doors, which Keith thinks is a touch dramatic. But regardless he crosses his arms over his chest and stubbornly refuses to budge from his position.

“Keith. For the love of God.”

“God is dead and I’m not climbing out of a goddamn ten thousand foot elevator hatch with you.”

Keith admittedly puts a tad too much emphasis on the ‘with you’ part of the sentence. It’s obvious in the way Lance stops and lifts his head up and glares at Keith so icily he doesn’t need to squint to make out Lance’s expression in the low emergency lights; his eyes practically burn a hole through Keith’s forehead. Keith winces but doesn’t say anything.

“You have gone toe to toe with a goddamn zombie dictator,” Lance grinds out, “but you’re too much of a pussy to climb an elevator shaft?”

Keith stiffens. “I’m not — shut up!”

Smirking, now, visibly delighted that he’s managed to press Keith’s buttons (God Keith wants to punch him), Lance leans against the elevator wall, hip cocked, feigning nonchalance.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he says, inspecting his nails like it doesn’t matter. “I just never would have thought that the best pilot out of the Garrison and literal pilot of the Red Lion is, you know, a chicken.”

Keith clenches his fists. Lance is frustrated and bored and pushing Keith’s buttons because there’s fuck else to do. He is. Keith knows this.

But he is so goddamn good at it.

“I’m not a fucking chicken, Cargo Pilot.”

‘Cargo Pilot’ is usually a hole-in-one insult that’s guaranteed to make Lance bristle, sure to make him bare his teeth and go bright red and generally lose his absolute shit. Keith is even sparing in his use of the term, careful not to let it lose its potency.

But because the universe hates him and also Lance is the most annoying motherfucker alive, his smirk only widens, and he flexes his fingers, still fucking casual, still not even bothering to look up in Keith’s direction.

I hate you, Keith thinks, with feeling.

“Sure,” Lance says, without. He shrugs. “Prove it.”

For a second Keith thinks he’s so mad that he might. But then he imagines it fully, pictures his bare back pressed against Lance’s, feet planted on the slippery castle walls, lights probably still out, struggling to put one foot in front of the other and drag each other upright. He thinks of how much effort that would take and how easily he would start to sweat, how easily every shift of their muscles would loosen the friction-borne grip between them, how easily his foot could slip. He thinks of how long a ten thousand foot drop would take, how long he would have to accept that he’s going to die before he splats on the pristine floor.

His stomach turns. His face goes green.

Lance’s jaw drops.

“Oh my God, you’re afraid of heights!”

“I am not!” Keith snaps, because he isn’t, he just has a fucking brain. “It’s just — it’s ten thousand fucking feet, Lance!”

“A pilot!” Lance screeches. “A pilot afraid of heights!”

“You are so goddamn extra!” Keith cries.

Lance makes more vague screeching noises. He gestures furiously at Keith, then pauses, then makes a sound in the back of his throat akin to a loudly dying whale, then gestures back at Keith, then at the ceiling, then at the elevator as a whole. Then he lets out one loud, long, final yell, completely wordless and directed at what Keith can only assume is the heavens, and stops, closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and very calmly crawls onto the floor, belly first, and lays perfectly flat with his face pressed to the tiles.

“I hate it here,” he says serenely. He pauses for a minute, thoughtful. “Also, I hate you.”

“Ditto,” Keith mutters, finally giving up and joining him on the floor. He tips his head back until it thumps on the elevator wall and sighs, loud and long, wondering vaguely if this is punishment for the hundreds of times he mocked Shiro for his fear of squirrels. He truly thinks it might be.

All he wanted was twenty goddamn minutes in the pool. That’s all. He’d have even taken ten. He just wanted to swim a few laps, maybe float for a bit, and pretend he was in a lake somewhere without pressing problems such as saving the universe and the fate of every single soul in it.

Eight minutes, really. Seven.

The lights flicker back on. Lance lifts his head, hopeful, then stretches out one ridiculously long leg (seriously what is the deal with that he’s basically a giraffe, it’s too much, Keith should talk to someone about it because since when were legs allowed to be that — long and shapely, or whatever, it’s weird) and presses the closest button with his toe.

It does nothing. Lance stares at it for a few minutes, as if attempting to bring the elevator alive by manifestation alone, but no life is forthcoming. Lance huffs sadly and returns his face to the floor.

“That’s really disgusting,” Keith says, although he has his fair share of Floor Time. “People walk on this floor all the time.”

Lance doesn’t bother looking up, groaning loudly for several minutes before simply rolling away to the opposite side of the elevator.

“Shut up,” he says finally, after so long Keith almost forgets his original comment. “You just —”

Abruptly he straightens up, pulling the towel off his neck and crawling forward to place it in the middle of the elevator. Keith rolls his eyes so hard it actually hurts, a little.

“You and your commentary stay on the loser stinky mullet half of the elevator,” Lance says. “The pretty half that’s not infected with your rancid vibes belongs to me.”

“Were you trained to be this annoying?” Keith ponders, half out of genuine curiosity. “Like, do you do this on purpose?”

“Ignoring you now,” Lance says primly.

Keith scowls. He’s not — Keith isn’t the one who’s too irritating to be around without going insane.

“I’m ignoring you, asshole.”

Lance doesn’t respond. Keith closes one eye and holds up his thumb and forefinger to the approximate shape of Lance’s face, pretending he’s squishing his head. It brings him great peace.

After a while, though, he starts to get restless. His legs starts bouncing, up and down so fast it’s blurry, and then his fingers start to tap, but the feeling of rustling under his skin only gets worse, spinning faster and faster and coil tightening more and more in his stomach until he just — implodes, really, until his brain goes boom and says if you don’t get moving right this second, and Keith says in response to it, believe me I’m on it. He’s scrambling to his feet before he has the conscious thought to do so, hands moving before he tells them to and pushing him upright, bare feet padding rapidly on the floor as he paces, three steps until he hits the wall then pivot then three steps then pivot then three steps again. Over and over and over. His fingers stop tapping but his shoulders get twitchy; itchy under his skin and on it, sweaty because there’s no airflow and this goddamn elevator is sweltering. Or he’s just hot. He usually runs hot. He’s not sure and he doesn’t care to know, because the pool would have been refreshing but instead he’s stuck in a ten by ten by ten cube stuck somewhere on a ten thousand foot tube and to his right his rival-slash-teammate keeps huffing and rubbing his hands on his arms and muttering to himself.

“Could you maybe cut that out,” Keith snaps, which is entirely unfair because his pacing isn’t quiet, but Keith is three seconds away from attempting to climb the walls and it’s Lance, anyway, when are they not arguing, so it doesn’t matter.

Maybe when you’re having a crisis-brought bonding moment, says a voice in his brain. Stuck elevators are kind of a crisis.

Shut up or I’m going to give myself a concussion, Keith responds to it.

“Not my fault it’s goddamn freezing in here,” Lance snaps.

Keith pauses. He looks down at Lance. He frowns.

“Your lips are blue,” he observes, bewildered.

“Eat shit,” Lance responds, predictably. He’s fucking — he’s shivering.

Keith is made astutely aware of the cooling sweat on his back and grimaces.

“Lance,” he says slowly, “it is not cold in here.”

Lance blows out a breath like the goddamn weight of the world is on his shoulders. He flicks his eyes up to meet Keith’s, who is standing behind his head and leaning down, and somehow manages to seem like the more put-together person between them, which is bonkers.

“I’m anaemic, stupid.”

Keith blinks. Suddenly the air feels very solemn, and he shifts uncomfortably, unsure of what to say.

“I didn’t know you had an eating disorder,” he manages eventually.

Lance’s faces scrunches up in confusion for seven whole seconds before it clears, and he looks at Keith like he is the dumbest man alive and then bursts out laughing.

“That’s — anorexic, you idiot! I don’t have enough blood!”

“Oh,” Keith says, face heating. He scowls as Lance continues to laugh way harder than what was called for, clutching his stomach with tears rolling down his face. He pokes Lance aggressively with his toe, and by that he means his kicks him. “Will you stop — it’s not that funny, dickhead!”

“It really is,” Lance wheezes.

Keith scowls harder. His face is as red as his shorts and the flush is starting to spread down his chest and Lance notices and it only makes him laugh more, because he’s a shithead of the worst kind. “I hope you choke.”

Keith flicks his towel over his head and yanks, embarrassed, stomping to the other side of the elevator as if that will somehow make Lance shut up faster. It doesn’t, obviously, and he hears Lance laugh for several minutes until he finally winds down to giggling, then eventually nothing.

Keith harrumphs quietly to himself. He resolves to sticking in his corner like he should have from the very beginning, until the elevator starts moving again or someone on the team comes to save them. At this point he’s so done he wouldn’t even care if it was Shiro, wouldn’t even care if Shiro gloated about it for eternity (Keith saved his ass from government experimentation, anyway, so he wins by default for the rest of time). He faces his corner and pulls his knees to his chest and starts picking at a loose thread in the seam of his shorts to amuse himself.

Several minutes later, he hears Lance shifting. He ignores it. He pulls at the thread until it comes loose, then busies himself with tying the thread into the most complicated and random knot he can.

A few more minutes later, and there’s the sound of fabric rustling and draping, then quiet cursing. Keith untangles and retangles his knot for the fourth time.

After what must be a half hour, Keith hears the sound of teeth chattering.

He sighs. He looks forlornly at his knot.

“I could just ignore him,” he mutters to himself. “He probably won’t die.”

He thinks of how short Lance’s shorts are. He pinches his own towel in his fingertips, so thin he can practically feel his fingerprints. He remembers blue lips and a clenched jaw and raised gooseflesh.

He sighs loudly, more of a groan, and flicks his ball of thread away.

It takes Lance a few seconds to respond to Keith looming over him, which is worrying. But eventually he cracks open one brown eye and flares up at Keith.

“What,” he mutters. His teeth are chattering so bad it sounds like two words.

“You’re freezing,” Keith says. His voice is softer than he expected it to be.

Lance huffs, closing his eye again and curling further into himself. “No shit.”

Keith frowns. “I’m not.”

“Well, rub it in, why dontcha.”

Keith frowns. “You’re not understanding.”

Lance ignores him. Keith has a sudden and vivid memory of the year Shiro and Adam drove him up to Seattle in the winter so he could be more cultured, or whatever (or less of a desert menace, Adam had argued, and perhaps more inclined to stop biting people), and spent the whole car ride lecturing him about hypothermia.

“It doesn’t take very long to set in,” Shiro had said.

“And once you have it you need to warm up or your heart can stop,” Adam had finished, very serious.

Suddenly Keith starts to feel very panicked.

Lukewarm tea, warm blankets, skin to skin contact with someone who’s warm, were Shiro’s instructions. And then possibly hospital.

Well. Keith has one of those things.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he wraps a gentle hand around Lance’s shoulder, tugging him upright, then pulls him forward so his cradled hands are pressed against Keith’s chest and his head is tucked into the junction of Keith’s neck.

Worryingly, it takes Lance almost thirty seconds to start complaining.

“You smell like mullet,” he whines. But he doesn’t move away. In fact, he burrows closer.

Keith swallows down his worry. “Mullets don’t smell like anything, dumbass.” He brings his hands up to press against Lance’s back. Lance groans, curling deeper into Keith’s hold. His nose is icy and burns a trail across Keith’s shoulder, down his collarbone. Keith’s flush from earlier makes an enthusiastic return, because nothing good still exists in the world.

“I still think you’re annoying,” Lance mumbles. Every move of his lip brushes against Keith’s skin.

“Shut up and focus on not freezing to death,” Keith snaps.

Lance snorts. “I’m not gonna freeze to death, doofus. It’s just a dead elevator. Once I fell asleep on the Garrison rooftop in January and only had to spend three days in urgent care, so basically I can withstand anything.”

Keith pauses. He tries to reconcile the Lance who just said that to the Lance who came up with a life saving plan in thirty seconds on the Balmera to the Lance who threatened to stick Keith in a wormhole to the Lance who smiled and said they made a good team before passing out in Keith’s arms.

“You are a very confusing person,” he says when all the reconciling does absolutely nothing.

“Thank you,” Lance says, sounding pleased.

Keith snorts and tightens his hold. Lance sighs and sags a little. Slowly his fingers stop feeling so much like ice blocks, and his breathing doesn’t sound so erratic. Keith doesn’t know how long it’s been. He stopped trying to count somewhere between when Lance’s cheek squished against his chest and his fingers started tracing featherlight patterns across his skin.

Lance yawns. Keith tries to fight his but ends up yawning anyway.

“Is it bad to let a person with hypothermia sleep?” he mumbles, half-slurring his words.

Lance hums. “‘M not hypothermic.”

“Dunno. Could be.”

He sighs again, a puff of air against Keith’s neck, and spreads his palms against Keith’s chest, flat. “‘M not. You’re too warm.” He pauses. “Freak.”

His tone is fond. The corners of Keith’s lips quirk up. “Weirdo.”

“Mhm.”

He falls asleep trying to count Lance’s breaths. It’s — groundbreaking, somehow.

———

(“Oh, my God.”

Keith cracks open bleary eyes, lifting a hand to rub his face. Lance groans from his place on Keith’s chest — in a puddle of drool, why is that not nearly as revolting as it should be — and snatches Keith’s wrist way faster than he should be able to as groggy as he is, placing it back around his waist.

“Oh, my God,” the voice repeats, gleeful.

“Shut up, Shiro,” Keith mutters. “Fuck.”

It takes him a minute.

His eyes fly open at the same time as Lance’s, and they look at each other, and then Keith is being shoved and kicked at the same time somehow and Lance is scrambling backwards at the speed of light, screeching. A loud bang makes Keith look over and he discovers his brother, who is dead to him, collapsed on the floor, laughing so loud Zarkon can probably hear him.

“What — Shiro — go — stop fucking laughing, you piece of shit!”

Lance continues to screech. Keith whips a towel at him.

“You gay pining loser!” Shiro shrieks. “I’m going to tell literally everyone!”

Keith puts his head in his hands and wishes he’d fallen down the goddamn elevator shaft.)

#hehehe 😈😈 #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #pining keith #adhd keith #keith has adhd #brown eyed lance #anaemic lance #which is so goddamn funny to me #elevator scene #broganes #enemies to lovers #banter #lance is a shithead #i love him so bad #my writing #longpost

[2chopsticks2eyes]

The Feeling is Mutual

2chopsticks2eyes - Masterlist

Pairing: Lee Minho/Lee Know x Han Jisung/Han x Fem Reader

Themes: Smut, Angst, Fluff

Word Count: ~11.5k | AO3

Warnings: Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Alcohol, Cussing, Oral Sex, Hand Jobs, Vaginal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Alternate Universe - College/University, Vaginal Sex, Unprotected Sex

Summary: Reader is lifelong friends with Minho and Jisung and doesn't realize exactly to what extent they all love each other.

Author's Note: I am shamelessly obsessed with Minsung. Will probably add more in the future. I originally was only on AO3, but I wanted to link platforms with Tumblr and Twitter too. Hope you enjoy!

__________________________________________

“Say that to my face, you weasel.” You squared your shoulders up to the slightly shorter brunette boy that rolled his eyes at you with a huff.

“I was telling the little squirrel boy back there–” he glanced around your shoulder to the small, meek looking Han Jisung that hid behind your taller frame. “That his girlfriend looks like a lumberjack.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, Min–!” The small ravenette didn’t even finish his sentence before Minho was flat on the ground with blood gushing from his nose, your fist trembling from the powerful blow it landed.

“Tell me, Minho. How does it feel getting punched by a lumberjack?” It’s true that you were taller and more… developed than the other kids in your fifth grade class, but being best friends with Jisung, the smallest and skinniest boy in class, didn’t exactly help your image. You didn’t care though, you had gotten used to it. However, you had absolutely NO tolerance for when Lee Minho - the little shit that constantly crowded yours and Jisung’s space - would make fun of Jisung for being around you.

Minho wiped his still bleeding nose with his shirt sleeve and shucked off his backpack, not caring for a single moment that the school bus was about to arrive to take the three of you and the other students home. You smirked at his infuriated face and he suddenly jumped on you, the two of you rolling on the asphalt, slapping, tearing clothes, and pulling hair. The teachers were quickly on the scene like lightning and pulled the two of you apart.

“She started it!”

“Did not!” You glanced at Jisung and he was just frozen in place with terrified doe eyes. You didn’t want to drag him into this so you returned your gaze to the disheveled looking brunette that was glaring right back at you.

“I don’t care who started it! You two bicker all of the time and I’m sick of it! Apologize to each other this instant!” The both of you crossed your arms and looked away from each other. At that moment the bus pulled up and the loads of waiting kids started filing in. You started to step towards Jisung to get on with him, but you were pulled back by the backpack. “Nuh-uh. No one is leaving until you two apologize.” You glanced over to the bus and saw the bus driver standing in the doorway impatiently as the other kids peered out the windows at you two.

You groaned loudly and glared at Minho. “FINE. I’m sorry I punched your stupid, weasel face.” You uncrossed your arms and grabbed onto the straps of your backpack, eager to leave already.

He scoffed at you. “And I’M sorry for telling Jisung his girlfriend is a GIANT lumberjack.” You could feel rage build up in you but you just clutched your straps tighter.

Mrs. Choi let out a long sigh and rubbed her temples. “Okay, fine. If that’s how it’s going to be…” The teacher stepped up to the bus driver and announced loudly. “THESE TWO–” she pointed at the two of you, Jisung still curled in on himself off to the side. “Are to sit at the FRONT of the bus as seatmates for the rest of the semester.”

Both of your eyes popped out of your heads and you glanced at each other incredulously. “W-wait! But Mrs. Choi!”

“No buts. Now get on the bus ASAP.” She stood to the side as the bus driver resumed his post behind the wheel. You grabbed Jisung’s hand and the three of you reluctantly climbed in. The seats in the front were obviously open, none of the kids wanted to be monitored so closely by the driver, and you and Minho begrudgingly sat on one side of the aisle as Jisung sat on the other side, gazing at you with disconcertment. 

To no one’s surprise, the two of you bickered CONSTANTLY during the whole semester and couldn’t have a single bus ride in peace. Jisung always sat on the other side of the aisle and tried to be a mediator because, for some reason, Minho wasn’t nearly as douchey to the young raven haired boy. Even when you tried to ignore each other, you would always end up bickering about something .

On the days where the two of you had a moment of silence, Jisung would try to make friendly conversation with the little asshat and, surprisingly, Minho would be civil. When Jisung came over to your house after school, you would rant and ask him what he was thinking by trying to talk to him.

“I dunno, he might not be as bad as you think.” He muffled as his cheeks were full of the banana bread he was munching on. “Maybe we should invite him to sit at lunch with us. If you’re going to be forced to sit with him anyway, might as well try to get on his good side.”

“I HIGHLY doubt that kid even has a good side.” You rolled your eyes and huffed.

“Please, Y/N? Can we please try?” Once he gave you those puppy dog eyes, you knew you were screwed.

Minho was suspicious at first, but eventually, he started sitting with the two of you during lunch. Well… he sat with Jisung while you ignored him completely, but you were determined to try for Jisung’s sake.

It started with basic small talk questions that most fifth graders would ask. Do you have siblings? What’s your favorite class? Does Mr. Kim’s nose hair also distract you when he talks? You know, the basics. After that, it was easy to talk to him. Of course you still bickered, but now it was more of a game than anything, falling right in with his lame humor and teasing. Once the semester ended, you didn’t even stop sitting together. Of course the three of you would rotate who sat next to each other, but the odd one out was never seated far from the other two. 

The rest was history. The three of you were inseparable from then on. Even when you graduated, you all went to the same college, worked the same jobs, and even rented an apartment for you all to live in. Everything seemed to fall into place and you were never happier. Everything was perfect.

- - - - - - - - - -

You heard a low whistle from the living room when you stepped out of your room. “Goddamn girl, who are you out to slay tonight?” You chuckled at Jisung’s reaction from the couch where he was ogling you. You do admit, you were hoping to get laid that night. You and some of your gal pals were going out clubbing and you were determined to be whisked away to get your brains fucked out. The upcoming finals were stressing you beyond belief and it had been WAY too long since you’d been dicked down. A nice dose of endorphins were definitely due.

You had hit puberty early - hence the ‘lumberjack’ status you previously had donned - so you grew into your ‘feminine assets’ much earlier than most. So you were basically a full woman by high school, making you a force to be reckoned with as a true adult. The boys had eventually caught up to you in the puberty department and you weren’t gonna lie, they were blessed beyond words to transform from what they looked like during their rough years of zits and cracking voices to the absolutely drop dead gorgeous men they were now.

You had slipped on a form fitting black dress that hugged your slim waist and curvy hips and had curled your hair in loose waves. You had dusted a smokey look to your eye makeup and had on your favorite peaches and cream flavored lip gloss. “Hopefully someone who actually knows how to make a girl cum.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath, kitten. Most men don’t even believe in female orgasms.” Minho said as he stepped out of the kitchen with an iced bourbon and coke.

You scoffed at the nickname he donned you with at the beginning of high school when you dressed up as a cat for Halloween. “Oh yeah? Like you?” You smirked as you snatched the glass from his hand and took a large gulp.

He grabbed your wrist and took it back. “Um excuse YOU. I have made many girls cum, thank you very much. And I don’t just stop at one either.” You scoffed and turned to put on your black strappy heels. Although you used to be taller than the both of them in grade school, they surpassed you in height LONG ago and even in heels you weren’t eye level with either of them.

“Tsk. Please. It’s been ages since I’ve seen either one of you even attempt to get your dicks wet. Even more surprising for you, Min. Aren’t you supposed to be a revolving door for idiotic twats? Don’t tell me you’ve gone celebate.” You almost even looked concerned with the disbelief in your voice.

He must have had some really strong bourbon in that drink because you could’ve swore you saw a light pink dust over his cheeks before he resumed his cocky demeanor. “Trust me, the day I go celebate will be the day of my funeral. Just tired of having to turn them away because of their ‘feelings’.” He used air quotes and cringed, proceeding to plop down on the couch next to Jisung. The latter propped his legs up on the brunette’s lap and looked at you with a small smile and a tilt to his head.

“Please don’t drink too much, baby girl. Oh and let us know when you get there. And when you leave. And make sure the guy you leave with is clean. Oh! And–”

“Alright, alright, MOM. I get it. Relax, Ji. It’s not like this is my first time going out without you asswipes.”

“Tsk. She’ll be fine, Sungie.” Minho rubbed Jisung’s thigh and turned to look at you. “But seriously, try not to be stupid for one night, yeah?” You poked your tongue out at him and he returned the gesture, making you chuckle and head towards the door.

“Love you dorks! Don’t wait for up me!” 

“Wasn’t planning on it!” You heard Minho say as the door closed behind you.

- - - - - - - - - -

“What a goddamned asshat… twinkle dick… son of a whore in the springtime looking motherfu–.” You mumbled to yourself in the cab on the way back to your apartment when the driver gave you a weird look. You instantly shut up and continued your fuming internally. You continued your self monologue when you stumbled out of the cab. 

You were several drinks in and had mascara running down your face, thanks to your ‘company’ you had acquired that night. He had pulled you into the back alley and tried to fuck you up against the wall next to the filthy dumpster and when you suggested you take it to his place instead, he got pissed and said he would ‘go find a different cumdump’ and that you were an ugly bitch anyway.

You knew that it wasn’t true, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt your ego. You could only hope that the boys were still awake and would cheer you up with a plethora of ice cream and movies. In case they were asleep, you entered the apartment quietly, lightly placing your heels in the corridor and tiptoeing through the living room to get to your room.

However, what you weren’t planning on doing was freezing in your tracks when you rounded the corner to see two figures writhing on the couch. You couldn’t believe your eyes and you couldn’t find your voice. Minho was on top of Jisung, devouring his lips like a starved man as he railed him up the ass into the couch cushions. A million thoughts ran through your mind and you couldn’t make sense of any of them. But the first and foremost thought was ‘how could my two best friends keep this from me?’.

You involuntarily let out a small whimper and two pairs of eyes shot up to meet yours. Your inebriated mind couldn’t stop the tears from flooding at that moment and the rushed figures of both of the men separating and hastily covering themselves were blurry in your sight.

“Y/N!” You could vaguely hear the two of them say in unison past the ringing in your ears. All you could think to do was to turn tail and run, so you did. You yanked on your sneakers and ran out of the building, not knowing where you were going, just knowing it wasn’t safe for your sanity to try to unpack what you just saw. You silenced your phone that was blowing up with calls and texts and stumbled your way down the road.

You weren’t exactly a rational person when you were in distress and this situation wasn’t any different. You ran to a nearby twenty four hour convenience store and bought a whole case of beer and sat on the small patio outside, downing one bottle after the other in an attempt to forget the whole night. Why didn’t they say anything? How did you not notice? Will this change our whole friendship?

You were a little over halfway through the case and you could very faintly see the sky start to lighten. Your head was impossibly heavy and you watched the flickering street lamps as you laid your head down on your folded arms. Just as your eyelids started fluttering shut, you could see two figures running towards you in the distance. You couldn’t explain it as you started to lose consciousness, but your heart suddenly felt… warm.

- - - - - - - - - -

“I feel like such an idiot.”

“This isn’t your fault, Sungie.”

“We should have told her! That or…”

“Or what, Sung? Do you wish we never did this in the first place? Just kept it to ourselves and acted like nothing was going on?”

“Dammit, you know that’s not what I mean, Minnie…” 

“I know you love her… I love her just as much… but I love you too, Sungie. She might be pissed, but I know she wants us to be happy. It might take her a while, but I know everything will be okay.”

“Okay…”

You started to rouse back to the land of the living as you heard hushed whispers around you. You felt the softness and familiarity of your bed sheets surrounding you as you stretched out your creaking bones. You felt an overwhelming feeling of nausea and a throbbing pain course through your head, making you wince as you opened your eyes to the light filtering through your window.

Your two best friends were at your sides in an instant, Jisung holding a couple of aspirin and Minho holding a glass of water. They looked like they hadn’t gotten an ounce of sleep and you immediately felt guilty for your reaction the previous night. You silently accepted their offerings and downed the pills and the whole glass of water.

The room was silent as you looked down at your empty glass, watching the remaining rivulets of water drip down to the base of the glass. With everything that was running through your head, you decided that only one thing really mattered. “Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked the pair in a meek voice without looking up. Jisung took your right hand into both of his own and brought it to his lips.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl. So so so sorry.” You looked up at him when you heard his trembling voice and found tears streaming down his full cheeks. “I wanted to, I really did! God, I’m such a fucking coward… I was so afraid… I was so afraid you would hate me…”

“Han Jisung.” You said with a stern voice as you brought your hand up to his face to wipe away a tear. “There is nothing, absolutely nothing, you could do to make me hate you.” His lip trembled as he buried his face in your shoulder and you felt Minho link his fingers into your other hand.

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, kitten. Truly. We never wanted to hurt you.” He also placed a kiss on your knuckles and your heart fluttered. Your love for these boys was unconditional and their happiness was your happiness.

“We all had an agreement to not keep anything from each other, no matter what. And with this… I guess I felt like I was being excluded. I guess I just wasn’t ready to lose you two just yet…”

Jisung whipped his head up from your shoulder. “W-what do you mean lose us?!” They both wore perplexed and concerned expressions.

“Well… I-I assumed… I mean surely you two would prefer to live together without having me around to–”

“Shut your fucking mouth right this instant.” You looked flabbergasted at Minho’s blatant outburst. “The only way that is happening is if you don’t want to be around. Neither one of us even considered for a single second of leaving you. Don’t be ridiculous, bonehead.”

Jisung shoved the older boy. “What Minho is meaning to say is–” he glared lightly at the brunette. “Is that the three of us are one. None of us would be complete without another. All we wish is that this won’t be weird to the point where…” You saw his lip quiver a little. “...where you won’t want to be around us anymore…”

You pulled the ravenette in for a tight hug and ran your fingers through his hair. “You silly boy…” You whispered as you felt Minho run his hand up and down your back. “There is nowhere I would rather be than right here with you two… I’m really happy for you two. I’m happy that you guys are happy.”

You were startled out of your skin when Minho decided to tackle the two of you back onto the bed and squeeze the life out of you. “Where’s Minho and what have you done with him?” You squeaked out as best you could under his crushing form. 

“What? Am I undeserving of some love too?” He morphed his face into one of the cutest displays of pouts that you’d ever seen and you belted out an airy laugh. You pulled them both close and left crushing kisses to each of their cheeks. You were surprised that they both returned kisses to each of your cheeks as well, squishing your face between their lips and making you break out into a fit of giggles.

Once you broke free, you gazed at them in awe. They were both hovering over you with huge smiles on their faces and they looked at you as if you had hung the moon. Your heart swelled for them however, you couldn’t help but notice the slight pang of jealousy you felt. You wished you could find someone to love you like that as well.

- - - - - - - - - -

Things were surprisingly normal after that. Too normal. The three of you did almost everything together like usual and they never made you feel like the odd man out. It was almost concerning how nothing really changed. It even seemed like they were more lovey-dovey with you than they were even with each other (and that means a lot coming from Minho).

It was a normal Saturday afternoon and you were getting ready for an actual date this time. You had wrangled the two into your bedroom so they could give you input on what to wear and Minho was not having it.

“Why the fuck should you try to make yourself look good for some asshat that is only trying to bone you?” Minho groaned as he leaned back on his hands from where he was perched at the edge of your bed and Jisung laid on his stomach next to him.

“He’s not an asshat, Min. It’s Hyunjin from trig, you know he’s a sweetheart!”

“That’s even worse! Any guy that looks like that would have so many notches on his bedpost that even one tiny thrust will send it to the dump!”

You rolled your eyes and turned back to your closet to pull out the next option. “Why are you so desperate to date anyway? You already have us!” You turned back to Jisung with an unamused face just to be met with a smug look in return. You pulled out a dark blue a-line dress with a deep v-neck that cinched down to your waist and held it up to yourself in the mirror.

“Because maybe I actually want to get laid. And maybe I am tired of being the only single one in this house.” You smiled to yourself in the mirror, expecting to hear some form of a retort from one of the boys behind you. When all you heard was silence, you turned to them with a quizzical look. “What?” You questioned Jisung’s shy fiddling and Minho’s intense glare.

“Are we not trying hard enough for you already?” Minho snapped, making you freeze in shock.

“Min-“

“No, Sung.” Minho cut Jisung off before he could say anything. “We have tried so goddamned hard to make you feel like nothing has changed. Do you know how hard it is to keep my hands off of my own boyfriend? It sucks. But I’m doing it for YOU. Because we love you. Yet here you are, trying to make us feel bad for leaving you out!”

“Min, I never said—“ You felt anger rise in your throat.

“And that’s another thing—!” He stood to square up to your defensive frame, to which you were much less intimidating when he was the one towering over you now. “You never once said you were feeling left out. We include you in everything. And we’ve never had a problem with it because you are already a part of this relationship! The only difference is the sex! I don’t give two flying fucks if you want to date, just don’t drag me and Sungie’s relationship into your own insecurities!”

Before you could say anything, Minho turned on his heel, leaving you and Jisung and slamming his bedroom door behind him. “What the actual fuck was that?!” You turned towards the ravenette, throwing the dress down on the bed. You sat down next to Jisung and crossed your arms. What a fucking child.

He just gave you a sad smile. “I’m sorry, love. I think he’s just a little on edge…” He looked down at his thumbnail as he picked at it.

“Well can you go fuck it out of him or something? He’s not making any goddamn sense!” He just chuckled at you and stood up, coming over to pull you in for an unexpected hug.

“I’m sorry if we made you feel left out, honey.” He pulled back to look you in the eyes, your shoulders never leaving his grasp. “He meant what he said though… you are just as much a part of our relationship as we are. There is nothing we would exclude you from… nothing.” The glint in his eye gave you shivers and your brain glitched when he leaned in to give you a long, lingering kiss on the cheek. Right on the edge of your lips.

Without another word, he stepped out of the room and left you with a million questions swirling around in your head.

- - - - - - - - - -

“Fuck…” You buried your face in your hands in front of the sink of the club’s restroom you were at with Hyunjin. You looked back up at your flushed face in the mirror and cursed yourself for being so neurotic. Hyunjin had been a perfect gentleman, treating you with care and respectful hands even when you were trying to grind up against him like a thot on the dance floor. There was no reason you shouldn’t be 100% invested in your date. But that motherfucking Minho…

The bastard’s words still got under your skin. It’s not like you had asked them to refrain from acting like boyfriends. You had made it perfectly clear on several accounts that you were happy for their relationship. More than happy really. So why did he go off on you like that? And why did they insist on making it a point that they considered you a part of the relationship? Yeah you three were closer than anything in the world, but surely they didn’t mean they had wanted to include you romantically… right?

You looked down at the same blue dress you had picked out earlier that day and started to fiddle with the hem of it. It really was a sexy dress but… when you put it on, all you really wanted was for the boys to appreciate your look before you went out. Instead, you only received a ‘have fun’ from Jisung and complete silence and a sour attitude from Minho. Hyunjin of course said you looked amazing, but for some reason the compliment didn’t really seem as gratifying coming from his mouth. 

You hated to admit it, but you just weren’t satisfied with Hyunjin. He was gorgeous, sweet, funny, and a phenomenal kisser, but everyone seemed to pale in comparison to your two best friends. Of course you couldn’t really judge how they were in bed, but you knew them on legitimately every other level known to man. 

That doesn’t mean you haven’t imagined what it would be like to sleep with one of them. I mean, hell, going through horny teenage years and even hornier adulthood brought many thoughts to your head. You had seen them both almost completely naked, they walked around in nothing but their boxers all the time, so you had plenty of content to conjure up different images. Even after they got together you couldn’t help but find the idea of them fucking in the other room kind of hot…

You started to feel warmth pool in the base of your stomach and when you looked back up at your face, you were beet red. Now that those images were brought to the forefront of your mind, that was ALL you could think about. “Well shit…” You already knew this was a failed date. Sure, you could try to go home with Hyunjin and have him fuck your horniness away, but you didn’t want to hurt the poor man, especially after being so sweet to you all night. Also, you would eventually have to head back home and be tormented all over again.

You resigned yourself to cutting your date short by giving the generic ‘I’m not feeling well’ bullshit excuse and you felt horrible when you saw the look on Hyunjin’s face. But you told yourself that it is better to do it now than for him to catch feelings and break it off later. It really was a shame, in another world, he would have been the perfect man.

When you walked up to the door, you could only hope that they weren’t fucking on the couch again. You braced yourself as you rounded the corner to the living room and breathed out a sigh of relief when you saw the two men snuggling on the couch watching a movie. Jisung immediately popped his head up when he saw you walk in.

“Hey! What are you doing home so early, babe?” 

Minho snickered. “I was probably right about Hwang.” He said, crossing his arms across his chest. “Probably just wanted a quick fuck.”

“For your information, MeanHoe, he was a perfect gentleman. Not that you would know what that means.” You rolled your eyes and started to head for your bedroom door.

“Then what happened? Bad breath? Poor table manners? Tic-tac dick?” You huffed and turned your back to Minho.

“No, Min. None of that. He was fine.” You hoped they didn’t catch the small hitch in your voice. When your hand landed on the doorknob, you heard Jisung’s small voice.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?” Of course he would notice. You felt a weird emotion spring up in your throat at the endearment and swallowed it back as best as you could.

Well obviously you couldn’t tell them that you kept comparing Hyunjin to them. Minho’s ego would fly through the roof and it would probably make Jisung feel uncomfortable. So you resigned yourself to try and keep brushing off the issue. “It’s nothing, Ji. Goodnight.” You rushed past the threshold to your room to avoid any further discussion and slumped against the closed door.

You surprised yourself when you felt a tear fall from your face and you quickly wiped away the evidence. Why were you crying? You are supposed to be happy for them, not envious of their relationship. However, once one tear fell, the others started breaking free along with it and there was no stopping them. You slumped down on the edge of your bed and held your head in your hands, silently sobbing. You could only hope to ever find someone to love you like they do, but even they couldn’t provide you the kind of love you needed. You felt like you would never find anyone that would be able to compare to them.

You almost wished that you had never– “Y/N?” You heard a faint knock on your door and cursed Jisung for being so caring. You stayed silent in hopes that he would think you were sleeping and turn away, but you should have known that wouldn’t stop Minho. 

The door immediately whipped open and Minho stepped into the room with purpose and anger, flicking on the light in his path. The two of them, however, completely froze in the doorway when they saw you were crying. “Oh kitten…” Minho’s face instantly fell when he looked at you and he knelt down in front of you from where you were seated, making even more tears fall. “I’m so sorry, sweetie… I know I’ve been an ass today…”

You hiccupped back a sob as Minho took your hands in his and Jisung hurried over to wrap his arms around you. “I-it’s not you, Min…” You sniffled.

“Talk to us, baby. What’s the matter?” Jisung’s voice was soothing as he tucked your hair behind your ear and massaged the base of your neck.

You shook your head and hung your head low, your hands still ensnared in Minho’s grasp. He released one of your hands so he could rub his own up and down your thigh lovingly. “Kitten, you know I’m not good at this whole comforting thing, so you’re going to have to help me out here…” His touch left searing heat on your thigh and you squirmed under the combined touch of his and Jisung’s ministrations on your body.

“It’s just…” You fiddled with Minho’s hand as you tried to find a way to express what you wanted to say. “It’s just hard to find the right guy when I know I won’t find anyone near as great as you two…” You timidly watched as the two men looked at each other with wide eyes and then back at you. “I-I know that sounds weird! B-but I don’t mean it like–”

“Shhh, it’s okay, love. We get it.” Jisung cupped your cheek with his free hand and wiped away another couple of tears that had escaped. “We understand more than you realize.” Jisung leaned in and delicately placed a warm, wet kiss on your jaw, making you shiver.

Minho changed the course of his hand to start lightly rubbing circles on your upper thigh. A dangerous feeling started building in your nether regions and you started to get anxious. “I would never be able to imagine my life without you and Sungie either…” Minho let his lips linger on your knuckles and your breath hitched.

Fuck. They both looked up at you with intense eyes because of course they noticed. “We told you, you are just as much a part of this relationship as we are, kitten. Whatever you need… we can provide…” Minho tentatively moved his wandering hand closer to your inner thigh and Jisung placed another kiss on your neck this time. “Only if you want it though…”

They were being cautious, you could tell, but they made their intentions very clear. If you wanted it, you could have them. You should have been freaked out. Should have asked your best friends what the fuck they were thinking and that you weren’t into whatever polyamorous relationship they were conjuring up in their minds. And normally that would be true… for anyone other than these two…

You were soaking in your panties and you couldn’t deny it. The thought of having a relationship with not only one, but both of your best friends should have made you run for the hills, but instead, it felt like the most logical thing in this world. You figured it only made sense with how much you all loved each other. And now, with everything that had transpired, you couldn’t imagine being with anyone but these two.

Your breathing started getting heavier and your eyes fluttered when you felt Jisung’s tongue flick out over your pulse. “I… I can’t let myself get in between you two…” You already sounded completely fucked out.

“Who said anything about getting in between us? We love you equally just as much.” Jisung whispered against your neck, his breath sending chills down your spine.

“Unless you mean physically, then we definitely don’t mind you being in between us.” Minho muttered as he kissed your kneecap and subtly brushed his fingertips underneath the hem of your dress. You visibly shivered and Minho chuckled, lightly scraping his nails over your goosebumps. “You don’t exactly seem to be opposed to it, kitten…” He looked up at you with blown out pupils and a ravenous expression that made your ears burn.

Jisung whispered again. “All you need to do is ask and we will do anything for you.” He slightly pushed aside your strap and bit your shoulder. You could feel both of them smile against your skin when you whimpered at the feeling. Minho pushed your dress up a tiny bit further.

“What do you want, kitten?” He placed a kiss on your inner thigh and you knew your panties were ruined. Fuck.

“I… I…” Your head was in a fog and the two pulled their heads back from where they were torturing your flesh and they waited for your words with bated breath. You had no doubt that you were incredibly attracted to these men and you were their life companion, but something kept nagging you in the back of the head. You thought of your lives together and how you had watched them grow into these forces of nature and you didn’t know what this would mean if it went on from here. “I don’t want to just be fuck buddies…”

You instantly regretted your words when Minho sprung up from where he knelt in front of you and grabbed your face with both hands. “You really are a stupid little girl.” He growled. “We want all of the strings, Y/N. We want you to be our girl and our girl only. Go on dates with us. Make love to us or let us fuck you senseless. Be everything you already are to us, but more.” He glared at you for a moment more before his face softened. “We love you, baby…”

You felt a tear fall just before you crashed your lips to his. It should have felt weird kissing one of your best friends, but it wasn’t. It felt as natural as breathing and Minho reciprocated it just the same. You could feel him start to get hungry as he slipped his tongue in your mouth and fought for dominance (ever the control freak) and you gladly let him in. Turns out the man is an amazing kisser and when you turned to meet with Jisung, he was just as talented. Hyunjin couldn’t hold a candle to these two, but you might just be a tad bit biased.

As you and Jisung were clashing tongues, you could feel Minho step one leg in between yours and bend down to lick and suck on your neck, hands roaming down your waist and hips. Jisung was caressing your inner thigh and started sliding up under the hem of your dress. You whined when he stopped just at the edge of your panties as if he was waiting for permission. “J-Ji…” You huffed against his lips. “Touch me…”

That was all he needed to start circling his fingers over your panties right on top of your clit. You threw your head back in ecstacy, giving Minho more access to attack your neck. “Baby girl…” Jisung stared at you in awe as he fully lowered one of your straps with his unoccupied hand, revealing one of your breasts to him. “God, you’re perfect…” He breathed against your nipple before he sucked it in his mouth hard. You belted out a cry as he rolled the tip of it in between his teeth. Your voice cracked as you whined when Jisung retreated his hand from your clit until you felt Minho get back on his knees in front of you, spreading your legs open for him and bunching your dress up to your waist.

“Holy FUCK, Sungie, come look at this beauty…” The ravenette released your swollen nipple and both of the boys gazed at your pussy in awe. “Her cunt is practically dripping for us!” You got extremely annoyed when they wouldn’t stop ogling.

“Are you two going to just stare all day or are you going to actually do something about it?” You growled and both of the boys fixed their blown out eyes onto yours.

“Just savoring our fantasies, gorgeous. Trust us, we want nothing more than to satisfy your every need.” Minho gave you another one of his annoying little smirks. They fantasized about you? You didn’t have much time to ruminate on that fact because Minho suddenly dipped his finger into your sopping entrance from the side of your lacy underwear. Your hands grasped onto Jisung’s arm for dear life as your body went rigid.

Apparently Minho had lost his patience because he practically ripped your panties off of you and buried his face in your crotch like a man starved. He latched onto your clit and sucked while his skilled tongue flicked over it with desperate movements. Jisung returned to your mouth while one of his hands lowered your other strap and started alternating between your breasts, pinching and twisting your nipples while the other was buried in your hair, giving intermittent little tugs.

You moaned into his mouth and he sucked on your tongue. The overwhelming stimulation of the two quickly brought you over the edge and it surprised all three of you when you came with a loud cry. “Shit, Min. I knew your tongue was magic but, damn. Look how fucked out she already is!” Jisung brushed your hair back off your face with a satisfied smile. You had slumped back onto your elbows on the bed and you were breathing hard.

“Off. Clothes off. Now.” You had lost the ability to form full sentences and the boys stripped faster than you knew was possible, their erections fully prominent through their boxers. They helped rid you of your dress, leaving you completely naked as they scooted you up further onto the bed. Jisung sat behind you as he pulled you to his chest and Minho hovered over you with a dangerous look in his eyes.

His hand slid up your leg again, but wasted no time in dipping two fingers into your clenching pussy. You mewled at the stretch and laid your head back against the soft skin of Jisung’s shoulder. “Fuck, you’re so tight, kitten. I hope you can take us.” You could only hum in response to Minho as he stretched you with his fingers. When he leaned in, you figured he was going to kiss you, but the two men ended up making out over your shoulder while Minho was finger fucking you and Jisung dropped his hand down to circle his fingers around your clit.

They were an enigma. You couldn’t stop staring at the erotic display of these two gorgeous men intertwining tongues while pleasuring you. You couldn’t believe you were rising to orgasm again just watching them. “Oh god, that’s so fucking hot…” You couldn’t control the sudden confession from your mouth. Jisung side eyed you when your breathing picked up and smirked at the sight of you watching them.

He turned away from Minho to whisper in your ear. “Correct me if I’m wrong, angel. But have you fantasized about Minnie and I fucking before?” You had never heard Jisung sound so seductive before and it made your face burn in embarrassment.

Minho plastered his signature shit-eating grin on his face and leaned into your other ear, still languidly pumping his fingers into your sweet spot. “I think this angel has a little bit of a devil in her, Sungie.” He abruptly shoved a third finger in you deep, making you yelp in response. “Do you get off thinking about us, baby?” You couldn’t answer, you could only squeeze your eyes shut, suddenly bashful. Minho would have none of that though as he grabbed your jaw with his free hand and made you look at him. “Answer me, brat.”

You timidly nodded your head and you could feel your entire face light on fire. The smug smile on Minho’s face did nothing to soothe your embarrassment. You felt the grip on your jaw tighten, prying your mouth open as he removed his fingers from your cunt. You whined as you clenched around nothing, but Minho held his dripping fingers right up against your bottom lip.

“Suck.” He pushed his fingers past your lips and you sucked on them hungrily, tasting yourself. You twirled your tongue around and in between them, locking eyes with him and trying to give him the illusion that it was him you were sucking off. “Shit… You’re fucking unreal , kitten.”

Jisung was attacking your neck and had never left your clit since he started. “You gonna let Minnie fuck that tight little pussy of yours, baby girl?” Jisung whispered as he bit your earlobe.

“Oh god, please.” You groaned.

“As you wish, kitten.” He stood up and shucked off his boxers and HOLY FUCK was he for real? That had probably been the most beautiful dick you had ever seen and it must have shown on your face because that cocky ass smile formed on his lips. “You got a rubber, sweetheart?”

“No need, I’m clean and on birth control. Now get the fuck over here.” You squealed when Jisung pinched your clit. You fluttered your eyes in ecstasy up at Minho. “Come paint my insides, Min.” The two men groaned at the same time and the brunette basically tackled the both of you, alternating between both of your mouths and grabbing you by the legs.

You started to feel Jisung rub his erection against your back and you grinded against him, making his breath hitch. Minho grabbed Jisungs ass and dragged the two of you forward so you were leaning further back against Jisung. “This might hurt a bit, kitten.” You involuntarily started pushing your hips forward in a desperate attempt to get his cock into you as soon as humanly possible. Jisung held down your hips though when Minho dragged his burning hot tip against you, teasing your clit and entrance as if he had all the time in the world. And maybe you did, but that didn’t mean your patience was any less thin. “I swear to fucking god, Minho. If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to–!”

Your breath was kicked from your lungs as soon as he slammed his hips into you, fully sheathed balls deep and crushing your cervix. “Holy fucking hell, kitten… Why the FUCK have you kept this tight, wet, perfection away from us for so long?!” Minho almost looked like he was in pain from the amount of pleasure he was in. “Sungie, I can’t wait for you to feel her… she’s so goddamned perfect…” Minho groaned loudly, but stayed still inside you, allowing you to get used to the stretch.

You were choking on your own gasps and you felt like you had been punched in the gut. Your voice was shaky as you squeaked out a small “Minnie…” and he smiled down at you with heart eyes. He leaned in to lock his lips with yours in a long, sensual kiss. You felt all the love he rarely portrayed with words pour out into his kiss and you felt Jisung kiss the side of your neck while rubbing small, soothing circles into your lower stomach.

Once the pain started to subside, you started to roll your hips into him, hopefully giving him the hint that you were ready to be fucked into the mattress. Or really, fucked into Jisung’s chest. Thankfully, the message was received and he started languidly rocking his erection in and out shallowly.

“F-Fuu–” You threw your head back again as Jisung’s lips replaced Minho’s. As Minho started moving faster, your kisses grew hungrier. You sucked and bit Jisung’s lips like you wanted to eat him and, if you were being honest, you did. “Ji… let me taste you.” You sighed the words against his lips and he wasted no time sliding himself out from beneath you and propping up on his knees beside you, palming his clothed erection.

“You’re sure, baby girl?”

“Please, JiJi!” You wanted nothing more than to make these men feel good. For once, you weren’t worried about your own pleasure, your sole purpose at that moment was to please them. When he whipped out his dick, you salivated. WHY THE FUCK ARE THESE MEN’S DICKS SO PRETTY?! You raised a hand up and tentatively wrapped your hand around the smooth skin, feeling the extraordinary heat radiating off of him.

You gazed up at him as you licked him from base to tip and you could see his eyes roll into the back of his head. You swirled your tongue around the tip and then wrapped your lips around him, you were always more than confident in your head game as you swallowed around him deeper. “Sh-shit, baby. Keep that up and you’re going to finish me off before I can even fuck Minnie’s cum back into you.”

Those words immediately brought you back to the unbearable pleasure that Minho was treating you to. You looked over to him while you tongued Jisung’s slit and he had burning desire written in his eyes as he watched you suck Jisung’s cock. He abruptly wrapped his fingers around the back of your knees with bruising force and raised them to your chest, folding you in half. Your screams were muffled by Jisung’s dick as Minho rammed directly into your sensitive bundle of nerves at the top of your walls and pumped into you at a blinding pace.

The sounds of both of your best friends moaning from the pleasure you were giving them combined with the slapping and squelching of Minho nailing your sweet spot sent you tumbling over the edge. You screamed on Jisung’s cock as you drenched Minho with your orgasm, making his hips stutter. Your clenching walls pulled him into a vice grip and you felt him cum so hard you could almost taste it.

The sight of Minho climaxing was one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen, there was no describing it. You milked each other through your orgasms and Jisung pulled himself away from you. “Sung, you have to feel her. It’s fucking revolutionary!” You chuckled at his out of breath response as he removed himself from between your legs, Jisung replacing him.

Unlike Minho, Jisung was gentle and loving. He entered you slowly and the stretch was once again absolutely euphoric. He had an awestruck look in his eyes as he felt your slick walls and he had the same pleasure-pained look on his face that Minho had. His eyes peered into your soul as he caressed the side of your face and his face lit up with a contagious smile. “I love you so much, baby girl.” He pressed his lips to yours in a slow, beautiful kiss, tongues intertwining in a passionate dance.

Minho, who had flopped down next to you on the bed trying to catch his breath, had propped himself up on his elbow and started caressing Jisung’s back. “I’ll be right back, love.” Jisung just hummed in response into your mouth and you could hear Minho shimmy off the bed and shuffle out of the room.

Jisung pulled away from the kiss and caressed your cheek again, running his thumb over your lips as he lazily pumped into you. “Is this okay, baby? I know it probably seems weird to you–”

“Shhh…” You whispered and nuzzled into his hand. “Nothing could be more perfect than where I am right now.” You smiled up at him and he buried his face into your neck with a small kiss.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Hanji…” You opened your eyes when you felt a small kiss on your cheek.

“And I guess I love both of you.” Minho said against your skin when he returned in the same state as he left.

“Wow, what an honor. *ngh* I guess I love you too, Min.” You joked, but the power of Jisung’s thrusts strengthened. You gasped at the intensity, even though he was still going at a leisurely pace, he was ramming into your already bruised cervix. “SHIT, JI!” You squeaked out through clenched teeth. He raised his head up to look at you with a mischievous grin.

Somewhere in the background you heard a snap of a cap and before Jisung could respond to you, he was suddenly gasping loudly on top of you. “HOLY FUCK, Min! You can’t blindside me like that!” Jisung looked over his shoulder at the older man behind him that had an evil sneer.

“Sorry. Not sorry, Sung. Your ass is just all too tempting. ESPECIALLY when I can see it clench as you fuck our little kitten.” Minho had apparently made the trek to his room to go claim a bottle of lube because when you peered over Jisung’s shoulder, Minho had a finger buried in his ass and was stretching him open. You were mesmerized by the expressions on Jisung’s face.

He started whimpering and dropped his head to your shoulder. “Nuh uh.” You grabbed his head and raised it again, a pained expression on his face. “I want to see your face when Minnie and I wreck you.” You could hear Minho hiss through his teeth behind Jisung and he was suddenly thrusted forward, making him gasp and, in turn, making you gasp from your shared stimulation.

Minho chuckled. “Holy fucking shit, this is going to be fun. I get to control both of you just with one–” He pushed his fingers harshly into Jisung again and you both whined. “–push.” He continued with that torture and you could tell he was adding more fingers due to the pained expression of the man above you. “You okay, babe?” Minho’s free hand drew comforting circles on Jisung’s hip and you felt butterflies in your stomach from Minho’s rare tenderness.

“Yes. Please, Min. Fuck her through me… We need you…” Jisung’s breath was heavy as he gasped out the provocative words. Minho’s eyes turned dark and that was all he needed to slam his dick into Jisung’s ass, making all three of you cry in pleasure. The three of you were still for a moment while Jisung got comfortable with the stretch and you mewled at the feeling of his dick twitching inside of you. You clenched around him and he whined. “OH GOD, don’t do that to me, baby girl. Don’t want to finish me off before we’ve even started!”

Minho chuckled behind him, knowing exactly what you were doing to him and he started slowly pulling back before pumping both of you back and forth at a steady pace. There were whines, gasps, and moans alternating between the three of you, but Minho seemed particularly ravenous. Grunting, hissing, and growling as he started to build his pace.

Jisung bent his head down and continued moaning while latching onto your nipple. You promptly tangled your fingers in his hair with one hand and the other intertwined fingers with Minho’s hand that had been gripping onto Jisung’s waist. He looked down at you with a tender smile and squeezed your hand as he repositioned his posture.

Jisung abruptly jolted forward with a cry, releasing your nipple and biting onto your shoulder, making you whine as well. Minho smiled down to where he was connected with Jisung. “You like that, babe?”

“FUCK YES! GOD, Minnie! Please! R-right there! Don’t stop!” Jisung sounded desperate and you could feel it in the way he was see-sawing between you and Minho. It was so damned erotic and you could feel another high approaching.

“Harder! Please!” You threw your head back as both of the men’s paces increased along with their power.

“How does Sungie feel, kitten?”

“Fucking DELICIOUS.” You whimpered and Jisung took the liberty of licking all the way up your outstretched neck, ending his journey by slipping his tongue into your mouth with a heated kiss. One of his hands grasped onto the back of your neck for dear life and the other intertwined fingers with you above your head so that each of your hands were locked with both of your boys.

Minho’s grunts became more choppy and Jisung was whimpering with every thrust and you LOST IT. Your third orgasm came so hard that you would be seeing stars for weeks. Your clenching and all-encompassing flooding around Jisung’s dick pushed him over the edge as well as his hips stuttered and you felt warmth, once again, squirting and mixing in with Minho’s seed.

“SHIT FUCK–” Jisung seemed to have been clenching as well because Minho’s loud cursing and stuttering of his slapping hips indicated his second release of the night. Jisung’s eyes rolled into the back of his head at the feeling and he collapsed on top of you. Minho then promptly collapsed on top of him and you could feel Jisung’s dick slowly slide out of you along with a sea of cum.

You grunted with the combined weight of the men on top of you and you released both of their hands, instead slapping their shoulders. “Guys–” You wheezed. “Get your heavy asses off of me! I’m suffocating!”

Minho was the first to roll off and lay on his side next to you. “Psh. Says the lumberjack.” You slapped him on the pec with the back of your hand halfheartedly and he guffawed.

When Jisung rolled off to lay on your other side, you looked over to see a sleepy smile. You cupped his cheek and kissed him tenderly and then turned to the other side and did the same with Minho. “I can definitely say that you guys have grown in more ways than one.” You chuckled with heavy breathing, the two of them joining you.

Jisung took a fistful of your boob and squeezed. “I could say the same about you. I’ve been wanting to get ahold of these babies for ages.” That brought an important thought to the forefront of your mind.

You quickly sat up and turned around to face them, startling both of them with concerned faces. “Yeah! What the hell is that about? How long have you guys wanted this fucking ‘menage a trois’ to be a thing?”

Jisung just blushed and Minho just looked amused at his boyfriend’s flustered state. “Since high school.” Minho said this so nonchalantly, you thought it had to be some kind of joke.

“I’m serious, Min! How long?”

“I’m serious, kitten. Since high school. We only really admitted it to each other once Sungie and I started dating. That’s when we knew that we wouldn’t feel complete without you being with us too.” Minho rolled over on his side to face you and thumbed your mouth. “I just can’t believe it took your leadass brain so long to realize.”

You half-chuckled in disbelief and the action ended up slightly pushing all three of your combined fluids out of your crotch. Your eyes widened and you clenched your thighs together. “I’m pretty sure I am ruining my bedsheets right now…” 

“Babe, I think they were ruined from the start.” Jisung laughed and both of them looked at each other with mischievous eyes. They took each of your legs and pried them apart, admiring their work. “Fuck, that’s so hot. No wonder Min likes to watch me when he finishes.”

You blushed hardcore and swiftly sat up, ripping their hands from the vice grip on your thighs. Once you stood up and turned back to them, you outstretched a hand to both of them. “Wanna take a shower?” 

You had never seen the boys move so fast. They took your hands to hop out of bed. Jisung quickly rushed to the bathroom while Minho bent down to throw you over his shoulder, promptly smacking your ass hard once you were manhandled into position. You screeched and he just laughed at you menacingly.

“God, your ass his so fucking spankable.” 

“You have a problem, sir.”

“Oh? Sir? I like that, kitten.” Once he sat you on your feet in the bathroom, he whispered in your ear. “Maybe I should make you call me that from now on, yeah?”

You rolled your eyes and pushed past him. “I’d bet my ass to get you to try and ‘make’ me do anything.” You stepped into the shower with Jisung and felt automatically drawn to the huge smile on his face. “Hi JiJi…” You kissed him tenderly as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He kissed you back gently and lovingly as he caressed your sides and hips, tongues slowly dancing with each other. When he broke the kiss, he abruptly spun you around to wrap his arms around you in a back hug. You found yourself facing Minho’s sudsy body and a shit-eating grin. Well fuck.

“You really shouldn’t have said that, kitten.” He stepped towards you and you felt something turn in your core. “How about we clean you out properly?” You whimpered when he bent down to lick a stripe up your throbbing and dripping folds and then gently pressed a finger into your entrance.

You couldn’t help but to gasp and throw your head back against Jisung’s shoulder, causing him to start placing open mouthed kisses up and down your neck and shoulder, sucking on the already bruising hickeys that were left there.

Your body instinctively squirmed from the pleasure-pain Minho was inducing down below and Jisung’s ministrations up above on your already sensitive areas. Jisung firmly grasped your hips and pressed you up against his erection causing a moan to slip out of your mouth. “You like that baby girl? Is Minnie making you feel good?” You nodded frantically at Jisung’s whispered words and that only made Minho suck even harder on your swollen clit.

You cried out when you felt one of Minho’s slick fingers circle around the rim of your asshole. “M-Minnie… what–?”

“You think you can take us both, kitten?” You gasped when you felt him breach your rim and slowly enter.

“I-I…” You couldn’t control your clenching.

“Relax, sweetheart. We don’t have to if you don’t want it.” Jisung kissed your cheek sweetly and rubbed soothing circles on your hips with his thumbs.

You peered down at Minho that was looking up at you in anticipation. Fuck it. “Okay, Min. Just… take it slow…” He smiled at you and latched onto your clit again, eating you out with determined purpose as he slowly got you used to the unfamiliar feeling of his finger pumping in and out of your sphincter.

You had done anal once before but the dude was super rough and it hurt like hell. Needless to say, you dropped that motherfucker real quick. Minho was patient and comforting, making sure you were comfortable and checking when you were ready for more. You barely felt any discomfort at all, especially with the delicious sensation he was providing to your bliss button. Not to mention Jisung’s ministrations on your neck and nipples.

“Ah, FUCK. Keep doing that Minnie! Don’t stop!” He was flicking and circling your clit with his skilled tongue and your knees started getting weak, all the while stretching you wide open. When he pulled away you cried out. “NO! No no no, PLEASE Minnie!”

He just chuckled and stood up to press his body against yours, removing his fingers and wiping them on his still soapy body. “Now now, sweetheart. We don’t want to ruin the main course now, do we?” 

You attacked him. You pushed him against the wall and started devouring his lips, biting, sucking, and licking anything and everything you could get your mouth on and he responded eagerly. You lifted your leg onto his hip and frantically guided his painfully hard erection to your entrance, sheathing yourself and whimpering at the euphoric feeling. He moaned into the kiss and fully lifted you, sitting you on his cock and presenting your ass for Jisung to line up with. You tensed when you felt his tip touch your rim and, without a shadow of doubt, they noticed.

Minho’s kisses started to get less hungry and more loving, rubbing soothing circles on your thighs with his thumbs from where he was holding you up. Jisung was gently circling the outside of your hole to get you to relax and spread his precum around your entrance. He sweetly kissed your shoulder, shushing you to calmness.

Minho started slowly grinding in you and the pleasure outmassed the discomfort of Jisung slowly stretching you with his dick. “O-oh GOD…” Jisung’s breathy moan sent butterflies through your stomach and they both stilled for a moment so you could get acclimated to the feeling once the boy behind you was fully sheathed.

“F-fuck… S-so f-full…” You choked out.

“Shhh, you’re doing so well, baby girl.” Jisung kissed your sweaty temple.

“Such a good girl. Letting us fill up all of her tight little holes. Just breathe and relax for me kitten, okay?” You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath until Minho pointed it out. You gulped up the much needed oxygen and closed your eyes, trying to focus on the euphoric sensation that Jisung had started administering to your clit.

Both of the boys latched their lips onto each side of your neck and you moaned, finally feeling that warmth in your core again. “Y-you can move…” Once they started, you realized that you didn’t feel any pain at all. It actually started feeling quite pleasurable. Feeling the two completely filling you up put a pressure on your sensitive nerves that had you dripping with your arousal.

“Oh, Sungie. You feel amazing through her walls, babe.” They were see-sawing in between your holes to ensure that you were never left empty and you could feel your high slowly approaching again. You were groaning, sighing, and moaning so loud that you were sure the neighbors were concerned for your well being. 

“You like that baby girl?” Minho slammed into you and they started moving faster, the cry you belted out just seemed to egg them on further.

Jisung brought three of his fingers to your mouth and pawed at your lips. “I think she needs more holes filled. What do you think, Minnie?”

“I think that is a brilliant idea, Sung. Open up for him, will you, kitten?” You obediently opened up and enclosed your mouth on his fingers as if you were blowing him, twirling your tongue around and sucking eagerly.

“That’s a good girl.” You felt Jisung intertwine his fingers with one of the hands that Minho was using to hold your ass up and your heart swelled. You spat out Jisung’s fingers.

“Kiss each other…” You breathed out and they wasted no time in obliging. You watched as they tenderly locked lips and sweetly tangled their tongues together and it just about pushed you over the edge. You were just about hyperventilating and you rocked between their cocks faster. Your eyes fluttered at the image of the two and you buried your teeth into Minho’s shoulder as you flooded their cocks.

You screamed and clenched all of your holes and the boys grunted and hissed into each other’s mouths, shooting their white hot spunk all over your walls. You almost passed out from the feeling and the both of them braced themselves you when they felt your body go limp.

A whimper escaped your mouth when they both pulled out of you, leaving you with an excruciatingly uncomfortable empty feeling. When Minho stood you back up, your knees buckled and they both caught you before you bit the dust. “Don’t worry, baby girl. We’ve got you.” Jisung spoke in a soft voice and you melted into them as they gently cleaned your body.

They wrapped you in a fuzzy towel and Minho picked you up bridal style. Since your bed was utterly trashed now, the three of you crashed on Minho’s bed and you never realized how comfortable it was. It felt kind of weird laying naked with your two best friends, but you felt too fucked out from your multiple orgasms that you couldn’t bring yourself to give two flying fucks.

Minho wrapped around you from behind and Jisung laid facing you. “I can’t believe we actually got you to agree to this, sweet thing.” Jisung traced his fingers around your face with a feather-light touch. His eyes glimmered with wonder and he looked totally lost in your eyes.

Minho squeezed you snug against his chest and placed a chaste kiss on your shoulder. “You’re stuck with us now, kitten.”

You scoffed as you buried your face in the crook of Jisung’s neck. “As if I wasn’t already stuck with you douchebags in the first place.” 

After a moment of silence of being caged between the two, Minho randomly chuckled before he full-on started his evil cackling. “What’s so funny?” You drearily asked, starting to feel the weight of the day on your mind and body.

He slithered his hand down to your ass cheek and groped it firmly. “You said you’d bet your ass. I’m pretty sure double penetration qualifies as me ‘making’ you do something.” He swiftly smacked your ass and you jolted in place. “This gorgeous ass is mine now.”

“No fair! I deserve it too!” Jisung grabbed your other cheek.

“That doesn’t count! I allowed that to happen, you weasel!” You protested, but you didn’t exactly mind the two sexy motherfuckers massaging your ass.

“Sure sure, whatever helps you sleep at night, kitten. You just need to know we own it either way.” Minho gave it a firm squeeze then relented his ministrations to firmly wrap his arm around your waist.

Jisung did the same and caressed Minho’s arm all the while. He sweetly kissed you and then Minho turned your head by your jaw to do the same. You felt so much love in that moment that you started to get emotional. “I love you guys so much… I am forever grateful to Mrs. Choi for punishing me to sit next to your weasel ass.”

Both of the men chuckled in tandem. “I am too, kitten. We love you so much.” Your eyes watered at Minho’s rare soft confession and Jisung’s agreement. “Now enough of this sappy shit, go to sleep you lumberjack.” Of fucking course, it is Lee Minho we are talking about here.

“Why am I not surprised that you could ruin such a beautiful moment?” Jisung slapped Minho’s arm and he slapped back, starting a poking and tickling fight between the two.

“Hey! Cut it out or I’m leaving you two to go sleep in my room!” They squeezed you tightly when you wiggled in their grasp and then trapped you in a vice grip.

“I’d like to see you try, kitten.” Minho’s seductive tone sent shivers down your spine and Jisung mimicked his voice.

“We’re never letting you go, baby girl.”

You sighed and snuggled in. “I guess I can’t complain about that. The feeling is mutual.”

__________________________________________

If you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading! Please like, follow, and share! Thanks baby stays! 😘

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[juiceicicles]

Mean and Scary | Chapter 1: King of Hawkins High

AO3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48053206/chapters/121165750

Pts: 1, 2, 3

As he traipses through the woods, Eddie tries to get a bearing on what is about to happen and what his plan is for when it inevitably goes sideways.

Dealing pot to Hawkins Royalty like King Steve isn’t entirely out of the ordinary, but doing it alone at a picnic table in the middle of the isolated woods? Yeah, not Eddie’s smartest decision for a meeting place.

In his defense, he’s only a hop skip and a jump away from the high school, and he couldn’t be assed to drive any further for what’s likely going to be a one time payment of $20. $25, if he overcharges Steve (which, he absolutely plans to do.)

Eddie finally gets to the clearing and Steve jumps when he notices him, finally looking away from a tree he was seemingly having a very intense staring match with.

“Whoa, hey, hey, hey! Sorry,” Eddie chuckles a bit awkwardly, trying his best to subconsciously communicate that he is not a threat, because he really doesn’t wanna get his lights punched out right now “Didn't mean to scare you.”

Eddie sits down and his metal lunchbox clatters onto the table —Steve flinches again. Boy, Harrington is jumpy— and sits across from him. He opens up his Pail-o’-Drugs and watches as Steve drums his fingers on the table.

“There's, uh... There's nothing to worry about. Okay? No one ever comes out here. We're safe. I promise.” Eddie honestly didn’t expect Steve Harrington to be worried about being caught, considering that Steve apparently used to hold daily house parties.

He still can’t believe it. King Steve goddamn Harrington sitting there, in all his douchey glory. Or at least, that’s what Eddie expected. Instead he sort looks exhausted. His eyes keep flitting around, and he looks like he just saw a ghost.

You see, Harrington was never a dick to Eddie, specifically. However, he sure as hell didn’t treat the freaks of Hawkins High with any sort of sympathy. Hence Eddie’s original plan to act like the biggest asshole he possibly could without scaring off a rich customer. But something about Harrington’s eyes, a sort of dull terror etched into the hazel brown, is making Eddie reconsider that decision.

“So, how does this work, exactly?” Steve sort of mutters. This is so utterly different from everything Eddie heard about him. Steve always roamed the halls with a sick sort of ironclad confidence, with his two jackals Tommy and Carol following his every beck and call. The boy across from Eddie though? He seems so haunted. Like a flickering projection of someone. A puppet with its strings cut.

“Uhh just like any other old sale, except cash only, and for obvious reasons, no receipts,” he gives Harrington what he hopes is a reassuring smile, “I'll do you a half ounce for, uh... 20. What do you say? Plenty of bang for your buck. Should last a while.”

A squirrel skitters up a tree in the background, and Harrington gasps quietly and whips around to track it. And then, finally, it clicks for Eddie.

Steve’s worried about being seen with Eddie the Freak Munson. Figures. He shouldn’t have expected anything less from King Steve.

“Hey, we don’t need to do this. Just give me the word, and I’ll walk away.”

“It’s not that, I don’t want you to go.” Steve starts, tentatively. He’s still looking around, like somethings about to pop out of the woods. “It’s just…Do you ever feel like you’re loosing your mind?”

And, of course Eddie feels like he’s lost his marbles. He’s a super senior with the nickname the Freak. Obviously he sometimes feels a little crazy. He’s a little surprised that notorious cool guy Steve Harrington feels that way, though.

He makes the decision right then and there to see this out, because even if Harrington’s afraid of being caught, there’s something here that Eddie’s missing.

“You know on a daily basis. I feel like I’m loosing my mind right now,” screw it, might as well be honest, go big or go home right? “doing a drug deal with Steve Harrington, former king of Hawkins High.”

“Ah, well, I haven’t been king for a while…” Steve trails off.

Eddie remembers Billy Hargrove. Remembers how he made him want to beg every god there was for Steve to steal back the crown. Billy Hargrove was mean to Eddie. He was mean to everyone. And he wasn’t highschool-mean either, he was Larry Munson mean. He was a jackass who wasn’t afraid of anyone and wanted you to know it.

Unprompted, Eddie remembers the first time he met Steve. Before he was Hawkins Royalty, before he was a jock and a bully, before Eddie was the freak and not just a freak. Eddie had just gotten to Hawkins, his old man had been put away and the US government dropped lil’ Eddie on Wayne’s doorstep. He’d met some friends and formed a shitty garage band. They’d played at the middle school talent show, and Eddie had lost his guitar pick. A boy about his age had given it back, told him his name was Steve and he had found it underneath his chair in the seats.

“You know, this isn't the first time that we've, um... Hung out.”

“No?”

Eddie lets out a little chuckle. Of course Steve wouldn’t remember. “It’s alright.”

He clutches at his heart like he’s been shot with an arrow and flings himself off the bench and into a pile of leaves behind him. He hears Steve let out a little gasp before he hops back up.

“I wouldn’t remember me either, Harrington!”

Steve looks a little amused, and Eddie catches a light brown blob in his peripheral vision. He combs his fingers through his hair and dislodges a dead leaf.

“Honestly, do I have stuff in my hair?”

Steve lets out a little chuckle as Eddie starts to gets into his story. If there’s one thing Eddie Munson is good at, it’s story telling.

“Middle school, talent show. Carol I think did this cheer thing? You know the thing the,” Eddie mimed some pom poms. Steve was smiling a little bit, so Eddie continued his spiel, “and I- I was with my band.”

Suddenly Steve pipes up “Corroded Coffin! Oh my god!”

Eddie’s bewildered that Steve apparently remembered their weird prepubescent metal show. He claps his hands excitedly and points to Steve. “You do remember!”

“Yes, of course! With a name like that, how could I forget?”

“I dunno. You’re a freak.” Eddie’s pretty pleased with himself when his lack of brain-to-mouth filer apparently doesn’t offend Steve. In fact, Steve breaks out a smile. It’s less Harrington Charm then Eddie expected, more of a dorky toothy grin.

“No you just- you looked so-“

“Different? Yeah. Yeah. Well, uh, my hair was buzzed, and I didn't have these sweet old tatties yet.”

“You played guitar right?”

“Uh-huh. Still do. Still do.” And since Eddie is an impulsive mess and isn’t totally hating this interaction, he does something that totally spits in the face of the tried and true Munson doctrine and invites a preppy jock to a metal concert, “You should come see us. Uh, we play at the Hideout on Tuesdays. It’s pretty cool. We- we actually get a crowd of about five…drunks.”

Steve laughs a bit and clamps a hand over his mouth, like he’s a bit startled by the noise. Eddie doesn’t blame him, he’s a bit caught off guard too.

“It’s not exactly the Garden, but, you gotta start somewhere, right?”

Steve looks at Eddie with a considering gaze for a moment, like he’s trying to figure Eddie out.

“You know, you’re not what I thought you’d be.”

“What, a total freak?”

“No, no. Honestly? I thought you’d be mean. And scary.”

“Me? Steve Harrington thought I’d be scary?”

“Yeah! You’ve got this whole, I dunno, chains and leather vibe. Thought you wouldn’t give me the time of day.”

“Yeah, well, I thought you’d be mean and scary too.”

“Yeah?”

“Terrifying.” Eddie’s hit with the sudden realization that he’s completely forgot about the drug deal he came here for and plops himself back down at the picnic table. “Uh, so, in other good news, flattery works with me, so... Twenty-five percent discount for the half. Fifteen bucks. You're robbing me blind here, you know.”

“…do you have anything maybe stronger?”

#Steve Harrington as Chrissy Cunningham #steddie #Steve Harrington #steve gets vecna’d #eddie munson #the picnic table scene #the drug deal scene #idk what’re we calling it #lemme know if you like this #I might write more actually! #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steve harrington fic #eddie munson fic #stranger things 4 #stranger things volume 4 #steve x eddie #stranger things fanfiction #Ao3 version available #it’s linked in a reblog #Mean and Scary #< for some reason that tag won’t work on this post

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Make Some Noise｡⋆.

Eddie Munson x plus size reader

Eddie just wants to hear you scream for him

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, back shots, reader doesn’t make a lot of noise, established relationship, praise, fluff

WC: 671

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

You were quiet, everyone knew that. You loved the silence and being able to listen to the world around you without the sound of your own voice disturbing the peace. Sure, you spoke when you needed to but you found that silent communication worked just as well as talking.

And everyone was fine with that, but not Eddie Munson, your friend of three years and boyfriend of almost 8 months.

Eddie longed to hear your voice- whether that be just you telling him about the fat squirrel you saw outside your bedroom window, or you singing along to the radio as he drove you to dinner, or even just hearing you speak quietly to yourself.

But most of all, he wanted to hear you scream for him.

Your nails dug into his back as he thrust forward, forcing himself even deeper inside you. “Shit.” He growled, burying his face into the crook of your neck. The fat head of his cock hit that spongy part inside of you that made you see stars.

“Mhm.” You moaned but quickly bit down on your lip to keep the noise inside. Eddie's hips stuttered and you keened again. 

His hands squeezed your wide hips tightly. “F-fuck do that again.” But you stubbornly kept your mouth clamped shut even as he picked up his pace, desperately trying to get more sounds out of you. He could feel the beginnings of your moans catching in your throat and he wanted so badly to hear them.

You whined softly as he abruptly pulled out of your cunt, making you clench around nothing. “Come on, let me hear you moan.” A long curly strand of hair was plastered to his forehead, his brown eyes even darker in the dim light of his bedroom. You shook your head and attempted to pull him back into you but Eddie just frowned.

“Alright, I guess if you aren’t gonna moan, I’m gonna have to make you scream.” Your vision spun and suddenly you were on your front, face pressed into his pillows as your hips were pulled upwards. You barely had a second to orient yourself before Eddie slammed back inside of you, his thick cock punching into your cervix as he buried himself to the hilt.

The air was knocked so quickly from your lungs, you couldn’t even manage a small squeak. A strong hand on your shoulder kept your upper body pinned to the mattress as Eddie drilled into you. Your mind was going hazy.

“C’mon princess, I know you need to let out all those pretty noises.” You gasped and you were rewarded with two of his fingers against your swollen clit. 

“Eddie! Oh god!” You howled, your voice broken with pleasure. “Please! Please! Please!” Each word was forced from you with each powerful thrust.

“That’s it, that’s a good girl. Taking my cock so well.” He cooed. “See how good it feels when you let me hear you.”

“So good!” The knot in your belly began to tighten even faster, your cunt cleaning down on his thick cock as tightly as she could. Eddie groaned.

“Cum for me princess. Cum on my cock.” 

Your scream of ecstasy carried through the empty trailer like a siren’s call, pushing Eddie over the edge of his own orgasm, filling you up with his cum. 

“Shit baby.” He collapsed on top of you with a huff. He kissed your overheated cheek and then rolled off of you. His hand immediately found a place on your bare ass. 

You turned your head to him with a glare. “Don’t go quiet on me now. You were certainly making a whole lot of noise a minute ago.” He teased. “Think I could record it next time? Your voice would make a great backing song.”

Ignoring your scornful look, Eddie reached over the side of the bed and grabbed the tape recorder he used when he was playing with melodies. “C’mon princess, give me a sample.” He yelped when you kicked him in the shin.

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[waitingonher]

h.o.o. characters & their icks

characters: percy jackson, annabeth chase, jason grace, piper mclean, leo valdez, frank zhang, & hazel levesque

content warning: slight cursing

word count: 853

author's note: idk if some of these are necessarily icks? but 😆

percy jackson

percy thinks he’s sooooo cool for growing up in nyc 😒😒

he’d say some new york specific lingo and would be all like “oh hah sorry, i forgot you aren’t from new york.” 

it is not that serious percy. 

somehow he always finds ways to relate things back to new york. you could be talking about a weird homeless person outside a convenience store, and he’d be like “well i’ve seen worse in new york.” 

percy lost his metrocard one time, but you guys needed to take the subway somewhere so he tried to act so nonchalant about hopping over the turnstiles. 

“oh yeah, i do it all the time. i’m basically a pro.” 

then, he went to jump over it only for his foot to get caught. he face planted onto the floor. when percy got up, he tried to act like he didn’t care, but you could see the embarrassment in his eyes. 

not his best moment! 

annabeth chase

in her own way, annabeth lowkey mansplains a lot 😭😭

she doesn’t mean to, but whenever she explains certain concepts or ideas, she comes off as super condescending. 

it could be the most niche subject ever, and she’d be peeved when you don’t know anything about it. i’m sorry i don’t know shit about a random philosopher who died hundreds of years ago 😒 

(i’d let annabeth mansplain to me any day of the year) 

jason grace

if no one orders for him, jason’s go-to are chicken tenders and fries. it’s not that he’s picky, it’s just that he’s so accustomed to ordering it, that he simply forgets he can order other things.

it’s as if his eyes just ignore everything else on the menu and only look for chicken tenders and fries. like, it’s okay to eat something other than that… 😕

when he orders at restaurants, the waiter always gives him the strangest looks. because why is a 6���0 athletic-looking teenager in here ordering chicken tenders off the kids menu. 

speaking of kids menus, jason treats the little activities on them so, so seriously. not to say that the activities aren’t fun, but he’s oddly obsessed over them. he gets genuinely upset when food or drink splatters gets on it because he likes taking them home?? jason please tell us why these little word searches and connect-the-dots matters so much to you. 

piper mclean

piper always claims that animals love her. (they do not) 

whenever she encounters wildlife, she’d start calling it over just for it to run away from her. “oh no, i think you scared it off” is her excuse 90% of the times. 

i know for a fact it wasn’t me. it was definitely you and your bad excuse for a squirrel call. 

she’s also convinced she can charmspeak animals too. last time she tried, the cat ended up smacking her across the face. 

when will piper learn 💔

leo valdez 

to all the leo lovers out there…i’m sorry to say that he’d have that little mustache after he drinks anything. he’s always rocking that milk mustache!!

after a long day of working in bunker 9, you’ll see him walking around camp with a bright red stain above his lip. you won’t even have to ask him to know that he was drinking fruit punch gatorade.

leo even gets that little stache with water?? it’s not as prevalent, but it’s definitely there. if he’s under the right lighting, you can see his top lip just glistening. 

you always have to remind him to wipe his mouth after taking a sip of anything. but it’s just as worse when he wipes his mouth because he uses the back of his hand or his sleeve…

if you go through his closet, there’s a high chance that you’ll find some of his shirts with different colored stains at the bottom of the sleeves. someone get leo some napkins please! 

frank zhang

whenever frank wears flipflops, his toes always hang over the edge of them. the worst part is that he really does not see an issue with it. he thinks it’s fine because “it’s just loungewear.” 

yes it may just be loungewear, but i promise you that no one wants to see your toes hanging out like that.

even if someone buys him a bigger size, he’d still find a way to have his toes over the edge. 

at this point, everyone just thinks that frank finds it comfortable so they don’t say anything anymore.

hazel levesque

hazel’s the type to enter those random instagram giveaways… 

she’d tag you in the comments and would text you asking you if you could follow the account and tag five people too. 

please hazel, you’re not gonna win that $300 amazon giftcard or that new laptop. give it up!! 

somehow she finds so many different giveaways?? you’re always tagged at least once a week. it’s gotten to the point where she’s entered so many giveaways, that people start recognizing her username. they feel genuine pity for her because why is @horselover1217 entering a giveaway for the third time this week.

#percy jackson #annabeth chase #jason grace #piper mclean #leo valdez #frank zhang #hazel levesque #heroes of olympus x reader #heroes of olympus #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson and the olympians

[theemporium]

Imagine how protective boxer!max would be if you ever got pregnant. That boy wouldn’t leave your side. You’re coming to every fight but he’s squirreling you away into Christian’s office with blankets, snacks, and his laptop. He comes back in all sweaty and a little bloodied to find you watching Great British Bake Off and snacking on some grapes and he just kisses you and your little bump before going to take a shower. GP joins you to watch and commentates on the folding method of puff pastry.

this is really sweet and all but now I just have this hilarious image of max thinking you’re pregnant when you’re not😭

like the boy wakes up to you throwing up in the bathroom (plot twist: it’s food poisoning!) and just instantly thinks you’re pregnant

cue him being overbearing and so careful and doting with you. and yeah, you’re pretty confused why he’s got you all these snacks and blankets and bake-off but hey! better to judge baking over watching your boyfriend get punched about!

but then it leads to a moment of him like knocking a beer you were about to drink out of your hand or lando being like, “can I be the godfather?” for you to be like wtf????

and the whole conversation is just hilarious with max insistent you’re pregnant and you’re just like, “I’m on birth control and we use condoms???” and he’s like, “yeah but I could have a magic dick!” and it’s just fucking chaos😭

#cece answers #street fighter!max #max.thots

[oonajaeadira]

Leave Off Your Wandering pt. 2: Summer

Fandom: The Last of Us (TV)/ Joel Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Reader: Adult female. Old enough to have been an adult on Outbreak Day. Wyoming born and bred. Sheep farmer, easy-going but confident and self-sufficient. Likes to sing, not a great cook. Childhood friend of Maria. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n.

Rating: T for now

Warnings: Hunting and skinning squirrels. Chemical burns to skin. Piercing injury. Joel being a dick in a moment of self-preservation. Ellie's still a swear-mouth. Everybody makes some mistakes.

Summary: You solve a problem for Ellie and Joel really doesn't take it well.

A/N: Set after season 1 and then diverges. Does not acknowledge the existence of further plot/seasons, although I claim the right to steal ideas and bits of cannon from the second game if I want to for plot reasons later.

Listen. I know those warnings up there seem like a bit much, but I promise you all of that is in passing, in service to the plot, and not described in detail. (With the exception Ellie's cussing. That will persist indefinitely.) This is stupid fluffy.

Your gut reaction is to fetch your gun and point it at Ellie’s head.

But the girl is calm.

And the bites are healed.

“Wanna shoot me, don’t you,” she challenges with a mismatched set of cocky mouth and world weary eyes. “This one happened before I met Joel. And this one the day after. This is why he took me to the Fireflies. He told me not to tell anyone. That’s why I freaked out.”

Earlier in the day you’d gone looking for Ellie, hoping to show her the honeybee hive you’d discovered at the edge of the meadow. She’d been bathing in the stream, stripped down to nothing. She’d shrieked when she saw you coming near and you’d laughed and kept your eyes averted, understanding the self-consciousness of teenagers, about to tell her to come and find you when she was done.

And then she roared.

“GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME! GO!”

It had been a punch to the heart if not a slap to the face, which you were certain by her tone you would have received had you been close enough.

Saying nothing, and simply obeying her wish, you’d turned and gone back to the Roost. Ellie stayed away so long that her hair was completely dry and her nose was sunburned when she finally joined you.

Every footfall had been an apology on the ladder. And every slow creak along the porch was following an olive branch to the broken down sofa you perched on to keep watch over the north meadow.

Taking a reticent seat beside you, she’d rolled up her sleeve. “I’m sorry I yelled. I didn’t want you to see it. It’s kind of a life and death thing.”

“Obviously,” you answer, shellshocked. “Reaction warranted.” Dropping her arm to her lap and reaching up to pull down her cuff, you stop her, holding out a waiting hand. “Can I?”

Suddenly doe-eyed and struck by your acceptance, she nods and lays her forearm in your palm.

There’s instinctual revulsion at first, but it melts to wonder as you get a closer look at the scars. There’s nothing of skin breakage, no mycelium running underneath, nothing reaching for you through holes as there would be if you were having one of your nightmares.

Immunity. Statistically speaking, it had to exist, but she’s the first you’ve ever seen or heard of.

“I wondered why you’d choose to wear long sleeves in this heat. I see now. Joel was smart to tell you to keep it covered. This’ll get you killed faster than infection, that’s for sure.” The tendons in her arm flex involuntarily when you run your fingers over the marks. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to tickle.” She relaxes as you release her. This time she doesn’t move to cover the skin. “Out in the open with Joel, I can imagine why you were bit the second time. How’d you come by it the first time?”

“Messing around with a friend where I wasn’t supposed to.”

Ah. By the pull at her brow and the same laws of statistics, you’d hazard to guess that friend didn’t make it. Probably another kid like her. Tragic.

“I see. And that’s why you were being smuggled. That’s why they wanted you. Well, what did the Fireflies make of you?”

She clearly catches the way you slather contempt onto the name of the terrorist organization, but answers your question. “They wanted to make a cure from my blood. They had me on the operating table but raiders attacked the hospital and killed everyone while I was under. So I guess we missed our chance.”

A quiet minute passes as you watch her tracing her thumb over the scar, lost in thought, brow twisted, recounting the ordeal of that day. Something doesn’t sit right with her about it.

And neither does it sit right with you.

Doctors don’t put a person on an operating table just to draw blood.

And you’ve heard stories of what Joel’s capable of.

You’ve witnessed just how protective he is over this little girl.

Her reverie dissolves when you lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. “While I’m sorry they never got the chance to find the possibilities, I understand enough about research medicine to know that the likelihood of their finding a cure from just one person is almost impossible. So while they might have been able to study your blood, they most likely wouldn’t be able to get enough of it or keep it stable long enough to find any answers.”

“How do you know that?”

Over the next hour as the sun sinks in the sky and she soaks up your history, you tell her about your sister. How you and her and Maria were a tight-knit team growing up, how in love with Maria she was, how you were certain they were going to get married one day.

Then you tell her how Maria went off to law school and your sister got sick, that the cancer was rare and the treatment was long and expensive, so your parents had opted for research to fray some costs and keep the ranch.

In the end, there were no answers, not without more donors of her ilk.

Your parents took a loan against the ranch, knowing full well they would lose it, but everyone agreed it was worth it for whatever time it would buy her.

And then Jakarta fell. And the world went to hell.

A few of the elderly residents of the Jackson basin came to hole up on the ranch and most of Willa’s family and tribal branch moved over from their land to form a protective new family group. It worked for a few years. It was safe. It was a thriving little commune.

And then the Fireflies came.

“There were Fireflies out here too?”

“Oh yeah, they were in every QZ, spreading their lies and chaos through the telegram towers, recruiting poor young suckers wherever they took root and getting them all killed. You tangled with them and I’d say you’re lucky you’re alive.”

Ellie frowns down at her arm again. “What did they do when they came here?”

Another story then. Now you explain with a little less nostalgia how the Fireflies came to use your ranch as a base. Trucks coming and going at all hours. Gunshots in the night. Catching the attention of roving packs of raiders. People got hurt. People died.

There was one day when two Fireflies went out foraging mushrooms with old Ms. Celia. They brought her body back on a makeshift sled. Just keeled over, they said.

Funny how the same thing happened the week before with old Ms. Margie. What a coincidence that it was happening when the food supplies were running low.

But the last blow came when the ranch was attacked by raiders a third time. There was a plan in place to create a distraction, draw their attention away from the ranch. The Fireflies knew your sister was sick and designated she do the job. They put a gun to your head when you protested.

It’s okay, she’d said, I don’t have much left to lose. If I’m going out, at least the people I love will be safe.

It was a shit plan.

A lot of people died that day. Most of them were raiders, thanks to Willa and her tribe. Some of them were Fireflies thanks to you and your shotgun.

“So did you win?”

“No. The barriers were still broken. And the ranch was burned to the ground.”

The evening sky is a mix of purples and gold now, the flocks of birds swooping over the meadow are starting to vie for their meal of mosquitos and gnats with an increasing number of bats. Ellie watches one in particular as it swoops up and over the roof of the Roost.

“What about your parents?”

“They burned with the ranch.”

She nods solemnly, without horror, the attitude of a child that’s seen too much.

“And your sister died too then?”

"She got away at first. Found her in the woods a week later with a bite like yours, but she was long gone by then. One of Willa’s brothers did the shooting.”

Another quiet nod. “What was your sister’s name?” she asks as an evening bird calls.

It was bound to come up.

“Eleanor. We called her Ell. Ellie, when she was little.” When you can see the unearned guilt building in her face you bump her shoulder playfully. “It was almost twenty years ago. I hold onto the good memories. She was sweet and kind to everyone she met, never backsassed our parents, never disobeyed. So basically nothing like you at all.” You laugh when she shoots you an annoyed look. “Not that she was an angel though! She had her fire; you didn’t want to get on her bad side. And she was whip smart. That’s where the two of you meet I think.”

“Sounds like you lost everything at once.”

“I did,” a fact you aknowledge as you stretch and get up, heading back into the cabin to light the lantern. “But Willa helped me through. And then Jackson got its walls up and Maria found her way home and I had family again.” Once the lantern flickers to life, you grab your bag and start pawing through it. “You keep going for family.”

“That’s what Joel says.”

“Huh. You know what? I believe you. Here,” pulling a tank top out of your pack you toss it at her and it smacks her in the face. “While you’re out here you can wear that and not die of heat stroke in those knit tops. But when you’re out in the sun, put something over your shoulders or use the tsuga paste. Your skin hasn’t seen sun in a while and the last thing I need to do is bring you back cooked like a Christmas goose and have Joel all up in my ass about it.”

“That actually sounds like a good thing for both of you, if you ask me.”

“Watch it.”

“What? I didn’t say anything! Look at the time! We should be spinning wool! How I love spinning wool. Whoopee!”

“Like I said. Nothing like my sister. You little shit.”

________

“Meadowlark to patrol.”

“This is patrol.”

“Starling and I are on the southeast side of the meadow near the chokecherry copse and we’ve found a honeybee hive. I’m going to tie red flags to the surrounding trees. You wanna put the word out that some of these cherries are ready to go and get someone suited out here to scope out this hive?”

“This will make four hives now.”

“I know. We’re getting lucky this year.”

“Will do, Meadowlark. We’ll radio in before we cross borders.”

“Copy. Out.”

On the way back to the Roost you and Ellie stop to greet a group of sheep lazing in the grass, sitting down and sharing cherries with them from a basket between the two of you.

“They can eat these?” she asks.

“Sure. They can pretty much eat whatever we do. Chokecherries are fine. Just don’t give ‘em the leaves or stems. Those are poisonous.”

This means taking the time to pull cherries away from the branches until there’s a handful to feed the sheep. Normally you’d be fending them off during this, they’d be insistent and impatient, but the heat of the day has them lazy and languid.

It’s also working on Ellie as she yawns, stretching her white arms plastered in pine and sunflower paste for protection, her scar marring her otherwise unburned forearm.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” you hand her another branch to start shucking. “Willa does tattoos. She could cover that for you.”

Ellie hesitates. “Maybe.”

“What. You don’t want a tattoo? I thought you might like that. It would be pretty badass. We could cover it with a starling or something….”

“I guess.” You wait for her excuse. It’s a decent one. “I just…It would mean Willa would know too. Joel told me not to tell anyone. I don’t think I should.”

“I understand. That’s kinda why I suggested Willa. The woman’s a vault.” But Ellie’s fingers stop picking berries, as if she doesn’t know what to do or what to say. “Oh. I see. You don’t want Joel to know you told anyone. Even me.”

She nods.

She changes the subject then–something about him wanting to keep her safe, even teaching her to use a shotgun to protect herself–but your mind keeps working on the problem.

It’s only when you make it back to the ladder at the Roost, one foot frozen on the bottom rung, that you find the answer.

“What’s wrong?” she asks from behind you.

Under the posts of the Roost is a load of firewood. And under that wood….

“Ellie…if there was another way to get rid of your scar, would you?”

“What. You gonna give me some kinda bird tattoo yourself? Is it gonna look like a blob or–”

“I mean, do you want it gone at all?”

She pulls herself out of her slouched position to her full height. “I mean…yeah…I think a tattoo is actually a great idea I just…”

“What if Willa didn’t have to know? What if she thought she was covering up something else?” Pulling a few armfulls of wood away from the side of the pile, you uncover a wide plank of wood, once a handsome cedar coffee table top, now a sunken excuse for a forest cellar door. Prying the wood out of its depression, you reveal an earthen pit housing a couple of shovels, a couple pairs of oilskin mittens, and a covered earthen pot.

“This,” you point to the pot, “is lye. We keep it out here in case one of the sheep dies from infection or illness. It’s important to bury the sheep to keep it away from the flock. But even if you bury a carcass, bear and coyotes will come sniffing around and dig it up. We discourage that with this. Lye breaks down organic matter. That’s why we have gloves in here. It burns skin.”

Ellie frowns into the pit, understanding slowly dawning until she asks with a gasp, “Does it hurt?”

“Hells yes it does. It’s a burn, Ellie. It hurts like a son of a bitch, there’s no way I’d lie about that. But it will twist the features of that scar. You’ll never have to dodge suspicion again.”

“Mother. Fucker,” her whisper shakes, but she eyes the pot in steady fascination.

“You know what?” You throw the tabletop back down over the hole, “I saw a whole lot of squirrels around those chokecherries and they’re actually good eating if you get a few of them and throw ‘em in a pot with some potatoes and onion and garlic…. Too bad their skins are too small to be useful. But we can’t just leave ‘em lying around, you know. So if you and I were to go out and get a few and make a stew, and say I was to show you how the lye works with the leavings… well, something might happen.” The girl looks you dead in the eye, her jaw dropping open a little in disbelief. “What do you say? You wanna go out and do some target practice? Get some squirrel for dinner?”

A switch flips in Ellie’s spine and her eyes spark cold and bright, two supernovas in a smiling galaxy.

“Fuck yes. I’ll get the rifle.”

________

“Good shot!” you cheer as a third squirrel drops from a branch and you share a high five. “Wonder who taught you that! Damn, girl! Three for three. Tonight, we feast.”

“So, when are we doing this?” Ellie smiles as you walk back to the Roost, the barrel of the rifle slung over one shoulder, a string of fuzzy dinner swinging from the other.

“Tomorrow morning. Willa will be coming in at noon and that should give us some time to get a good burn in before she arrives. It should be fine, but if anything goes wrong, she can help and that makes me feel better about it. Ellie…. You sure you trust me with this?”

“I can’t die from it, right?”

“No, but you might want to. It’s sure as hell not gonna be pleasant.”

“Lady, I spent half a year walking across the country with Joel. I’m a master at dealing with unpleasant.” By now the sheep are familiar with the sound of Ellie’s laughter and a few perk up on your way past to follow you lazily back to the Roost. “But, like, I don’t understand why we have to go through all this with the squirrels. Don’t get me wrong, I like the target practice and all…”

You take the squirrels from her and set up a makeshift butcher’s block on a stump left waist high specifically for this purpose. “I don’t want to lie to Joel when he freaks out about you getting hurt. We had squirrels. We disposed of the leavings. You got burned with the lye. Truth truth truth.”

“You think he’ll be mad at you?”

“Oh, I’m already counting that into the equation. I know you seem to think he’s fond of me, but not all the evidence leads up to that. You know how to clean a squirrel?”

“Sure do,” she grins as she trades the rifle for your boot knife and, taking the first rodent in hand, she works it skillfully, tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth, skinning the critter in one go. “Thanks, little buddy. You were cute, but you’ll be gooooooood eating.”

“You’re a hell of a kid.”

“Yeah, well, guess who taught me this?” she says as she morbidly slices through another one, making dramatic death noises as she goes. “Why do you think he doesn’t like you? Joel’s stupid about you. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Jesus, Ellie.” With a sigh and a shake of the head, you indulge her question and your own immature angst. “Well, for starters, I can tell he doesn’t think much of some of my conversation.”

“What do you mean?” Another skin lands at her feet.

“He just…doesn’t answer questions sometimes. Ignores comments. Doesn’t like to join in on the joke.”

“This is a big one,” she grunts, tugging at the final squirrel. “What side are you standing on when he ignores you?”

“Huh?”

“Where are you standing when you talk to Joel? He’s deaf in his right ear.”

You blink.

And suddenly a hell of a lot of things make a hell of a lot of sense.

That one time you complimented his shirt and he said nothing, you were on his right.

That one time you poked fun at his scowl. On his right.

You cracked that joke, offered a piece of pie, told him everything would be alright.

Right. Right. Right.

“I…didn’t know that,” you stammer stupidly, flinching when Ellie hands your knife back and heads for the ladder.

“Yeah, that was obvious. I’m gonna go get a bowl.” You’re still in shock as she starts climbing. “Don’t expect him to get down on one knee when he asks you to marry him; he’s got shitty knees too. He’s happy to complain about it if you ask him. Make sure it’s in his left ear.”

________

“Okay, look at me, Ellie. Breathe.”

She nods, her eyes burning with determination over the shirt you’ve tied around her nose and mouth to protect her from inhaling the mix.

As you sit in the grass a few meters from the stream with her arm resting in your mittened hands, you lay the lye-laden cloth over the scar and enclose it with pressure.

Her breath comes heavily. Bravely. Then you hear it change as the lye begins to work.

“Shit. It itches,” she hisses. “Shit. Shit shit fuck fuck ow it’s getting worse–”

“You want me to stop?”

“No shit fuck I can do this I got this shiiiiiiiiiit!”

“I won’t let you go too long but you let me know if you need–”

“I’m fine! FUCK!”

It’s when she screams that you know it’s enough and releasing her, you order, drill sergeant style, “Go! Go! Go! Fifteen minutes! Don’t look at it!”

Ellie bolts into the ice cold stream, sneakers and all, gasping as the water washes the cloth away from her. “Shit. I thought it would feel better. It doesn’t!”

“Does it feel worse?”

“No, it just fucking burns!”

A sigh of relief. “Well, that’s good. Just… just let it rinse. Do you feel woozy at all?”

She just shakes her head, looking down through the water. “It’s getting red. And puffy.”

“No broken skin?”

“No.”

“Good. It’ll probably blister up some.”

Ellie might not be feeling woozy, but you sure are. Was it a reckless idea? Probably. Will it actually work? Hopefully. Do you feel bad that she’s gonna be in pain for a while? Fuck yes. But then you remember when she put on your tank top and just … laid in the grass and smiled. Even if she never wore short sleeves again, at least nobody was going to make a fast decision with a gun to her skull.

You really should have checked with Joel though. No matter what Ellie wants, you know full well it wasn’t your call to make.

Another problem for another day.

“Everything okay down there?” Willa’s black braids glint in the sun as she walks down from the Roost.

“Ellie had a run in with the lye,” you call back.

“Yeah, I see you were composting. I filled in the hole.” She hardly even stops when she reaches you, simply pulls off her boots and heads straight into the water. “Let’s see. Oh yeah. That’s a burn alright.”

As Willa inspects Ellie’s submerged arm, the girl looks up and smiles at you, giving you a wet thumbs up. “Hurts like a motherfucker!"

“I’ll bet,” the woman hums dryly. “That’s going to swell up and scar pretty bad. Why don’t you sit and let the water do its work. Meadowlark and I will go pack your things and I’ll grab the gauze in the first aid kit.”

Willa doesn’t ask questions as you pack up, just the regular routine of information trade off. You tell her that you’ve marked a few sheep with blue dye to keep an eye on for injuries or dehydration. And she lets you know what’s going on in town, including the fact that there’s gonna be a wedding with a reception at the food hall over the weekend.

“Really? Who?”

“Bear and Missy Tippet.”

“Your uncle??? Willa, I can stay; don’t you wanna be there?”

She laughs. “Hell no I do not. You know exactly how I feel about Missy Tippet; same as you. I’d rather be out here. Perfect timing. They’ve been keeping each other warm on and off for years now. Maybe this will finally keep her on. As much as I hate to picture that,” she shivers.

Willa’s such an even-keeled soul and it’s not just anyone she’ll shit talk in front of. “Well, your secret’s safe with me. If it is a secret that is.”

“What’s a secret?” Ellie interrupts as she pulls herself up to the balcony from the ladder with one hand.

Willa takes a little time to show her the correct way to bandage the burn–not too tight–while you pack the horses, as well as instructing you where to find her stash of willow bark if Ellie needs it for the pain.

But something tells you that Eliie’s gonna tough it out. Though she holds her arm gingerly as she rides, fisting the reigns in her left hand, the girl grins all the way back to Jackson like she’s just pulled off the heist of the century.

________

Jackson is busy when you ride through the gates midday, folks passing by on their way to visit, deliver, build. Purpose in Jackson is taken seriously, as is leisure, and both are on display as you pass by the rustic main drag, in many different ways frozen in time–log storefronts and Mickey Mouse tshirts, leather-saddled livestock and Japanese fans.

You spot Joel waiting at the stables before he sees you, distracted by none other than Missy Tippet. Getting herself married or not, the stunning woman is a glutton for attention and a class A flirt, and she’s not the only one in town whose head turned the minute Joel took up residence.

Not that you can blame her, with him in that tight grey tshirt, busting a carpenter’s arms out of its sleeves and contouring it with sweat…. By the dust on his face, he’s been working today. Probably took a break to wait for–

“Ellie. Hey! You decided to come home.”

“Yup,” she says, throwing him the reins to distract him while she gingerly dismounts. “I shot three squirrels!”

You avoid Joel’s questioning glance as you slide down from your own mare and lead her into a stall. “Go on, you two, I’ll stable up. Nice to see you, Cinnamon Roll.”

But they’re already on their way, an engaged chattering, laughing questions and energetic answers…and your teasing goes unheard. Ah. Wrong ear, you realize.

Missy smirks; condescends.“Cinnamon roll, huh? Good try, I guess.”

You don’t rise to her bait. “Just giving him sass. He’s obviously not a fan. You gonna help me with these saddles or keep slobbering all over the men that aren’t your fiancee what come on by?”

Okay. Maybe a little rising.

________

It’s your ritual, first thing back from the meadow. The Roost holds a special place in your heart, but the one thing it can’t deliver is a shower. Great gods of earth and sky, let there be thanks that warm water’s still a thing, even in summer.

You’re still dripping, one head tilted to the side as you drain the last of the water out one ear, when there’s a knock at the front door downstairs.

Well, let’s see. There aren’t that many people who know you’re back yet and Ellie’s come home with a bandage on her arm. It’s easy to guess who’s knocking. Okay. Let’s get this over with.

When you answer the door wrapped in nothing but a towel, it obviously wasn’t what Joel was expecting, and if he walked over here with any ire, it instantly freezes and shatters like a bubble on the tundra when he takes in all the skin on display.

“You’ll excuse me if I don’t invite you in for snacks at the moment.”

Deflated, he simply rams his hands in his pockets, squinting. “You wanna tell me about Ellie’s arm?”

“I had planned on it at a time when I wasn’t wet and naked, but sure.” When he throws his hands up in defeat and turns to leave, you stop him, catching at his sleeve and stretching the fabric so it snaps back against his arm. “Hey. Wait. Yes. I was going to tell you.” As you cross your arms over the towel and lean on the door frame, he does much the same on the other side, averting his eyes and trying not to fidget. And failing. “It happened this morning. She shot some squirrels and we dressed ‘em for dinner last night and buried the bones and pelts. Gotta lye ‘em or animals come digging. I thought she could handle it. Looks like we both got burned, so to speak.” His face is stony. Unamused. You continue. “Willa looked at it this morning, we got it a good rinse. I’m gonna go by her place later and grab some willow bark and show Ellie how to compress.” He shakes his head at his boots. “Hey. She’ll be fine, Joel.”

“I don’t want her getting hurt out there.”

“And I do? It’s a chemical burn, not a clicker bite. She’ll learn from it. Kids can’t be put in glass cages.” It’s here that you pretend not to see the flash in his eye at the mention of bites, meanwhile noticing a bad scrape on his forearm. Seeing your opening, you reach out to draw a finger over it. “Jesus, Joel. Look at this. This. See? We all have occupational hazards. Come on.”

With a sigh you turn and pad into the kitchen to your first aid drawer, taking a chance that pays off--you’re surprised to hear him actually following. It takes a minute to dress the wound and you’re not ginger about it–water, apple cider vinegar, gauze. It’s a quiet minute though, one you thought you could power through, and maybe you could have, if you were in anything more than a towel…or couldn’t hear him breathing…or feel it on your skin. Trying to play it cool and get a vibe check on him, you look up only to catch his eye shifting away from your bare shoulder back to your work on his arm.

It’s time to break the silence, but you don’t feel the need to be on the defense anymore.

“We don’t have a lot of antibiotics just sitting around, you know. Don’t let this stuff fester, okay, cinnamon roll? You and that daredevil kid are a matching pair, you know that?”

He only grunts, half rolling his eyes at you, jaw set, voice at a soft compromise. “Yeah, well, I don’t want her going back out there until she’s healed up. Limited use of both arms is a good path to more accidents.”

“Fair. You win. Summer’s pretty slow anyway. I could use the quiet.” Laying it on thick, you tie up the ends of the gauze before releasing him back into the wilds. “Warm sun, buzz of bees. Sweet smell of grass and lupines. Meadow’s a good place for afternoon naps. Easier to do without an apprentice yapping my ear off.”

He nods thoughtfully at this--your words showing their effect--and slowly turns and heads for the door.

And you smile knowingly as you watch him go.

“You know,” you call out just before he closes the door behind him, “door’s open at the Roost. You can always come out there with her if you’re so concerned. That is, if you don’t mind sleeping on a broke-down sofa on the porch.”

Without looking back, he pauses briefly in the patch of summer glare. Then he silently steps out and pulls the door shut, leaving only the click of the latch and the sunlight through the leaded glass.

Well. That certainly could have gone much worse.

________

At least you’re wearing more clothes when it finally does go worse.

“What happened here, squirt?” Tommy taps his fork on Ellie’s bandage at family dinner.

And Ellie answers with a light jab to his arm. “Ow, you dick! That hurts!”

“Ellie–” a scold in stereo from both you and Joel.

As her teacher, the admonishment was instinctual. But in current context, it may have been a breach of place. The table goes silent as Joel’s head snaps in your direction and everyone else’s eyes bounce between you two, utterly amused. There’s a moment when you’re afraid he might just continue to glare, but then he cracks half a smile, shakes his head, and goes back to shoveling a spoonful of potatoes into his mouth.

It’s a reaction that lets you know Joel’s forgiven you, back to allowing you to be a rearing force in Ellie’s life.

“Meadowlark let me do some target practice and I shot some squirrels for dinner. Had to bury the skin and bones with lye and I got burned. Oops.”

“Oh my god,” Maria chews. “Are you okay?”

Ellie gives her a precocious smile and follows it with sarcastic condescension. “Yes, I’m going to live. As long as some people let it heal and stop hitting me with sharp things because they think they’re funny and they’re not.”

Tommy sticks his tongue out at Ellie and Maria laughs at them both before getting up to go fetch another jar of pickles from the pantry, holding her growing belly and waving off her husband's attempts to help.

“Rabbit’s better eating,” Tommy points out, returning to the subject at hand.

Ellie pops a stringbean into her mouth, clearly in a good mood. “But their hides are useful. Don’t have to bury them.”

The moment after she says this is like a lightning flash, and your reaction matches hers as you both freeze, realizing what she’s just accidentally said.

“Squirrels are faster, smaller, better target practice,” you say, clearing your throat, trying to act casual.

Tommy shrugs and nods, agreeing, oblivious, going to town on his ear of corn.

But Joel’s gone still, staring you down across the table, then casts a glance at Ellie…and her arm.

Shit.

Tommy and Maria are blissfully unaware of Joel’s turn for the quiet during the rest of the meal, not that he’d been very talkative to begin with. But the hesitant glances and shy smiles are gone now, replaced with a restrained patience and a few calculating glances.

It’s Maria’s turn to wash and Tommy’s to dry and yours to clear the table. But with every trip into the kitchen, you glance through the window over the sink into the yard where Joel and Ellie are having a spirited conversation under the tree at the far end.

'Spirited conversation' might be too polite a term. More like a one-sided lecture. Soon enough you have the table wiped down and you’re making a bee-line out the back door while Tommy and Maria argue about the best technique for drying a glass.

“That is not okay,” Joel hisses, trying to keep his voice low, giving Ellie’s shoulder a rough shake. “What if something went wrong? Huh? You could have burned down to the bone!”

“Joel, Joel, hey,” you whisper as you come to complete the triad. “Don’t. She confided in me. It was my idea.”

Nostrils flaring, lips pressed together, head wagging, he glares. “Of all the reckless, stupid….”

“I wanted to!” Ellie pleads, and you shut her down.

“That’s true, but Joel’s right and I knew it. I shouldn’t have–”

“If you tell anyone–” he warns, his eyes going full retribution against you--a hot coil ready to spring--and it petrifies you, takes you by the heart and squeezes.

“She won’t! Joel!”

“She’d better not.”

It’s a tense moment, one that surprises you. Scares you. In the months you’ve known him, Joel’s been a quiet and withdrawn creature, opening up in increments as you’ve done your best to build your trust, taming him slowly week after week, hoping for nothing more than having him someday eating out of your palm, pushing his cheek into your hand for gentle reassurance…

But in one fell swoop you’re back at the starting line–beyond the starting line. The papa bear in him is showing, bearing its teeth, and you’ve spent too much time among sheep, forgetting the valuable lesson that wild animals can never truly be tamed.

“I will burn this place to the ground if you ever hurt another hair on her head.” The quiet threat is feral and stinging and steals your breath before it’s over.

The things he’s capable of...those things are here and now and he could do them all to you before you had the chance to run.

The way he looks at you pulls the heat from the earth.

Before you can break from your paralysis, they’re gone, Joel pushing Ellie out of the yard toward home.

The stars are coming out. If there are crickets, you don’t hear them. Every sense seems to have shifted into neutral. Except breathing. That comes back with a hunger.

“Joel and Ellie take off?” Tommy calls from the window.

“Yeahhhh,” you call back without turning. “Tired. The heat. Think I might head home too.”

“Take a jar of these pickles. We have too many and Maria can't stomach them right now. I’ve got pickles coming out my damn ears.”

“Okay. Thanks, T. Pickles. Will do."

________

The following few days are...confusing. You should go out and grab some supplies on the main street, but actually fear running into Joel or Ellie. It’s stupid, and it makes you angry; it’s not that you’re afraid of him, it’s just…

You’re disappointed in yourself. Because everything’s upset now. Sure, you wanted to get close to them, but you overstepped, put Ellie in danger, made Joel feel unsafe. Everyone should feel safe in Jackson. Everyone should feel safe in the meadow. And you took that away from him.

Joel.

Why him? What about him do you need to have so badly? Why do you feel the need to fix him? To give him that safety?

Because Joel and Ellie so badly need a home. And you have an excess of home within you.

And little else.

You’ve never been lonely before. Why now?

Something about them….just fits.

Or so you thought. Or may have thought. Before you ruined it.

It’s better to just sit home and knit. Winter will be here soon enough and people need sweaters, dammit. You have a job to do.

But you can’t stay hidden away forever, especially not when there’s a wedding in the community.

________

“Bear, Missy, you’ve said your vows in front of all of us here tonight. We are all witness to your commitment. All in agreement, say aye!”

“AYE!”

“And those of you who want to spoil this good time, say nay!”

Bear’s brother pipes up from the side of the mess hall. “Nay!”

“Shut up, you asshole,” Bear laughs.

“Perfection is tempting devils!” his brother teases.

“Let ‘em come,” Bear shouts. “I’ll tear ‘em all down for my lady love, the prettiest girl in Jackson!” There’s applause and laughter as he kisses his new bride and the mood shifts as he roars, “Drinking and dancing!!!”

“Ugh. Good thing Willa isn’t here to see this. She’d be so annoyed.” Maria yells in your ear over the din as you huddle around your favorite table at the back of the hall. “I thought Missy would never settle down.”

“Bear must earn his name in the sack,” you crack back at her, and she clinks her glass against yours in agreement.

Tommy and Joel sit across the table from you, facing away toward the front. But when Tommy turns to join in the conversation, Joel remains facing out to the crowd, watching as tables are pushed to the side to make a dance floor, quietly pulling sips from a frothy cider.

He’s still pissed at you.

“Where’s Ellie?” you ask Tommy, not even attempting to address the wall of Joel-shaped ice.

“Over beyond, with the other big kids.”

You don’t turn to look, but Joel does after hearing the comment, before turning back to watch the crowd.

A band strikes up. Friends stop by and chat. Some of Tommy and Joel’s work friends come and take over the table–the boys all getting loud and rowdy–so you and Maria escape to the edge of the dance floor, beverages in hand, dancing–but not really–in place.

“What’s going on?” Maria finally asks over the music and the general glee.

“Hmm?”

“You two keep watching each other, but you’re not talking. What’s going on.”

You can’t keep from glancing over at the table…again. You weren’t aware of him taking any interest in you though.

“We had an argument the other day. I think I fucked things up.”

She pulls a face, comically surprised. “I would have guessed the other way around, but okay. You push him too hard or something?”

“Something like that.”

Glancing back over her shoulder at Joel and then back at you, Maria gives you her lawyer face. “He’ll come around. Tommy says he’s the last person to apologize for anything and if he does, you know it means a big deal. But if you’re willing to extend the olive branch first, that can go a long way.”

“Well, maybe not tonight,” you sigh, stealing a glance, watching as he drains his glass. “He’s had a few.”

But you can’t even convince yourself, handing your drink to Maria as Joel sets down his glass, slaps the table and pushes himself up, leaning forward to wish his buddies a good night. You follow him out of the mess hall like some lovestruck teenager strung out on a last hope.

“Joel. Joel!” Catching up with him halfway down the block, the light and noise from the party still follows as you get out in front of him. “Joel, stop. I have to apologize to you. Please let me.”

Though he’s backlit, you can still make out his tired glare. “Don’t. It’s not necessary.”

“Of course it is. Ellie’s important to you. You're her guardian. It wasn’t my call to make. I’m sorry.”

He waits a moment before throwing you an irritated prompt. “But?”

“But? I don’t know. She was hot in that long sleeve shirt and she showed me her arm–I can’t imagine what she went through. I just felt for her. But I did have a gut reaction when she showed me, Joel. Anyone would, but most wouldn’t hesitate for long. And those bites could get her killed. All I wanted was for her to be free from that. To be a kid. I’d say I wasn’t thinking, but...I was, Joel. Fuck was I thinking. I was thinking about her just being a kid and not getting killed.”

“Is that all?”

“Yeah, I guess. Except… I really don’t want you to punish her for my decision. She loves it out there. She thrives. And if you don’t trust me, my offer stands. Come with us. See for yourself.”

A huffed laugh. “Yeah? Do I get a callsign then?”

Your fatal flaw is jumping to the joke and the playful tease too soon, as you do now, anticipating his forgiveness. “Of course you do, grey fox.”

And that’s when he reaches out, pulls you close with strong hands.

Which would be exhilarating, if it wasn’t too close. And if his breath didn’t smell of cider.

“Why don’t you just take what you want,” he growls, quietly, coldly, jaw set, lips hardly moving.

It’s not fear that pings up your spine–now that you’ve had a taste of his anger and gotten over the initial shock from the other night, you know Joel won’t hurt you, not here, not as part of your found family, he knows better–

It’s bitter disappointment.

“What?”

His grip tightens, digs in. “It’s obvious what you want. Just go ahead. We’re both fucking lonely enough and I’m too old for games.”

He’s right here with you in the dark, his breath on your lips, your fingers twisting into the shoulders of his tshirt…but it’s wrong. It’s so wrong. And it’s hurting.

So you slowly push off his chest.

And the light from the mess hall hits your face again; something there causes his shoulders to drop, causes him to let you go.

A cheer rises up from the celebration that you’ve left behind, that you don’t feel like returning to, but neither can you be alone right now, so it’s likely your only choice.

“I’m not playing games, Joel. I never was. I like you. A lot. Both you and Ellie. I just didn’t want to spook you. But...I also don’t want someone who doesn’t want me. So…maybe I read you wrong. Or maybe we need different things.”

“What do you need?” It almost falls out of him, uncontrolled, unemotional, a gathering of facts.

And your answer comes the same way, surprising you as you’re sure his own question surprised himself.

“A home.”

It’s a quiet night, perfectly warm. You’re sure if you went home right now, the fireflies–the good kind–would be out in the back yard.

Instead, you give him a shellshocked nod–of finality, of punctuation–and follow your feet back toward the light, toward happiness and love that you can’t share at the moment. And you don’t look back.

________

When you don’t show up for family dinner that week, Maria comes knocking the next day.

Knocks, yes, but does not wait for an answer. In sisterly fashion, she makes straight for your wool room and sits calmly on the edge on the daybed there, staring at you as you mend a hole in a sweater.

“Missed you at our table last night.”

“I know.”

It doesn’t matter how hard she stares, you continue to avoid it and concentrate on the work in your hands.

“That was an invitation for you to explain.”

“I’m aware.”

“Girl–”

“I’m not getting along with Joel right now. Ellie has…this thing on her arm that she doesn’t want anyone to know about. You notice how she would wear long sleeves even in the heat? I felt bad for her. So I… suggested…the lye.”

This doesn't faze her. “It was on purpose. And Joel found out. I see.” Leaning back into the pillows with a pregnant grunt, she swings her feet up onto the daybed. “Is hiding helping? You know we all know where you live, right?”

“Are you really putting your muddy shoes on my quilt?”

“So you’re just going to avoid him.”

You squint at the binding. “I’m gonna have to raid the commissary for some better glasses. My eyesight’s getting out of hand.”

“You’re going to avoid us. Me and Tommy and Ellie.”

Letting out a huge sigh, you concede to her tenacity because she won’t stop until she gets what she wants. “For now.” When her tongue clicks, you finally look up. “Listen. I apologized and he’s still mad. I agree with you that he’ll get over it, but he hasn’t yet, and that means I haven’t either. And I’m not as good at turning on my bitch face as that one is.”

“So we shouldn’t expect you next week either.”

“Nope,” you pout, tackling the sweater again with focused frustration. “I traded with Goldie. Going out a week early.”

“You’re running away.”

“I’m stressed out and I need to not be here, yes!” You admit, throwing down the knitting. “What is the big deal? I don’t have to get along with everyone in Jackson! You don’t!”

You understand that flat look from her, known it since you were kids. She’s counting to 10, giving you the chance to calm down so one of you can speak the truth and speak it calmly.

“But you want to get along with Joel.”

Of course she was going to say that. Because it’s what you’re thinking and not wanting to say out loud and she can read you like a book.

“Yeah. I really do. You know I do.”

“Okay,” she says, pushing herself up with effort and crossing the room to kiss her fingers and press–nay, slap–them to your forehead before heading out. “Go on and go to your happy place. Go calm down in your little clubhouse. I was just worried about you is all. Brought you leftovers. They’re on the counter.”

“Thanks. You’re too good to me. As always. Love you.”

“I know. As always. Love you too.”

________

At the end of the week you’re up early, your pack and rations slung over your back, pistol on one hip, making your way to the stables while the town’s still quiet, before anyone can notice you going. Your boots crunch on the dirt road in lieu of the birdsong from those lazy bitches not even up yet, the dawnlight casting Jackson in blues and blacks, like a new-world mid-era Picasso.

The problem is, you know all of these blues and blacks, all these shapes and shadows. There’s a new one this morning, something leaning up against the stable door.

And it’s shaped like a fourteen year old girl with a couple of bags.

As you approach, Ellie tips away from the wall, standing upright, waiting until you come to a stop in front of her.

“Joel said I could go with you.”

“It’s a week early.”

“Yep.”

It’s too early in the morning for exasperated sighs, but here you are. “Maria or Tommy?”

“Tommy.”

“Figures. Big fucking mouth.”

“Yep.”

She waits patiently for it to sink in.

Once it does, you pull the walkie off your belt.

“Meadowlark to Chickadee. ETA 30, towing a Starling in behind me.”

________

“So what did you say to him to get him to change his mind?” Ellie takes your fishing rod so you can pull off your boots and roll up your pants.

“Me? I figured it was you said something.” Wading out into the stream at this little ripple point is harder than it looks. The rocks are sharper here, full of crannys that are equally as good for fish to hide in as they are to turn an ankle. It doesn’t help that the setting sun is throwing shadows that make it harder to determine what’s what. “I haven’t talked to him in weeks. Not since Bear’s wedding. Keep that line taut.”

“According to Maria, you haven’t talked to anyone lately.”

“I had knitting to do,” a dismissal as you follow the line out into the current. “There are hardly any weeds out here; what did this dang hook snag on? A rock?”

“Well, he finally admitted that masking the scar was a good thing. I told him I want to get a tattoo over it. He said no.”

You laugh, tugging at the line, teetering on a flatter stone. “Of course he did. But that’s a good thing. Tattoo’s a permanent mark. Good to have an excuse to think long and hard about what you’d want. Willa’s great with nature stuff. She could probably do you a bird or a tree or something.”

“I was thinking maybe the moon. Or like, a machete.”

“Of course you were. Oh, oh... hang on, I think I’ve found it.” Reaching down under one of the rocks, you follow the fishing line, but it doesn’t seem to have an end. “Well, where the hell?”

“Uhhhhh,” Ellie points to the water at your feet. “I think it found you.”

A fine red ribbon of blood floats away on the current and you follow it upstream to your foot. More specifically, the inner part of your big toe. “Well shit. Did I just catch my own damn self?”

“Catch of the day!” Ellie laughs. “I bet you fry up real tough. Does it hurt?”

“Didn’t even feel it, water’s too cold. Get your knife and cut the line so I don’t get all tangled.”

Once you’re back on shore and take stock, it’s obvious some tools are needed. “Run and get me the wire cutting pliers, the vinegar jug, and the first aid kit, will you?”

Ellie’s off like a shot on youthful legs, making short work of the errand while you keep your foot in the stream and tend to her line. But once she’s back and opens the kit, her face twists into a frown. “Aren’t there supposed to be bandages in here?”

“What?” Snipping the hook in two you slide it out the easy way as Ellie watches in morbid fascination. “There’s not?”

“Nope. Plenty of cleanser and some needle and thread, but no bandages.”

“Shit. I suppose we never restocked it after Willa set you up. Well, I’ll just have to bleed into my sock for the time being and find something up at the Roost.” Ellie moves to help you, but you hold a hand up and go for the walkie. “Hey. Meadowlark to Goldie.”

The walkie comes to life, garbled, full of noise.

“Goldie? Meadowlark to Goldfinch.”

A couple of seconds pass. “Sorry, Goldfinch here. Was in the tavern and there’s an arm wrestling competition in there. Lots of yelling.”

“Really? Who’s winning?”

“Right now it’s Bear. What’s up?”

“Oh, I never restocked the first aid kit after Ellie’s mishap and we’re needing clean bandages. Can you send some along on patrol tomorrow?”

“Sure. Everything alright out there?”

“Yeah, I just stepped on a fishhook.”

“Well, why the hell did you do that?”

“You know, the usual. Shits and giggles.”

“You do you. Don’t ever change. I’ll send some supplies along.”

“Thanks. Put a wager down on Bear for me. Meadowlark out.”

“Will do. Goldfinch gone.”

“Alright, kid,” you groan, hanging onto her shoulder and pulling yourself up, “Bring in your line and let’s take what we got and get a supper going.”

________

The next day, you drop a few old carrots over the balcony railing. “Ellie! Take these with you! You’ll tame that skittish one sooner or later; keep trying!”

The girl scoops up the veggies and trudges out through the pasture, heavy not with the task of doing the rounds by herself but due to the heat. At least she can wear short sleeves now, even if the bandage gets questions. But you suspect she enjoys the clout and attention she gets out of the burn.

Thank goodness she’s here. Your injury gets angry when you walk. So Ellie's tasked with the rounds and taking stock while you elevate the foot and get caught up on some spinning.

Not that there’s any hurry to do so. As you lean on your arms against the balcony railing a little breeze kicks up. Content for the moment, you let it bring you a little coolness, a little movement, the rising and falling music of this year’s batch of cicadas. The meadow's pretty this summer, all purples and reds, festooned with lupine and Indian paintbrush and the air at the Roost smelling like the pines that grow around it.

“Patrol to Meadowlark.”

Damn. You left the walkie on the table inside. Guess the decision’s been made for you to get your ass moving. That’ll be a delivery coming in and you hobble on over to answer.

"Patrol here. You there, Meadowlark?"

“Sorry. Meadowlark here.”

“Sending Joel Miller in with supplies at the north gate.”

That’s…not what you expected. But…wow. Really? Has your heart stopped, or is it just going really fast?

“Put him on the walkie.”

Who cares what you’re heart’s doing, your face is gonna cramp from the smile.

“Hey. It’s me,” he answers, gentle, penitent.

“Me who.”

“Joel.”

So he's olive branching first. Well, he'll have to earn it.

“Yeah, about that, we have procedures around here. Callsign or bust, sir.”

You can almost hear his eyes rolling, but it sounds like he’s up for the challenge.

“Seriously.”

“Sure.”

“Jesus. This is…Grey Fox. Coming in at the north gate. Happy?”

“I will be. Meadowlark out.”

Tottering gingerly back out to the balcony, you land heavily on the old green broke-down sofa. There’s no need to bring the rifle. Even if he was being pursued by a pack of raging clickers, Joel is certain to carry a gun, and certain to use it confidently.

A few slow minutes tick by in the sun and a cicada buzzes in from nowhere to attach itself to one of the balcony supports. The big bug breathes for a minute, its iridescent wings still twitching with the effort of hoisting that bulky little body.

And then, in your eyeline just past the cicada, there’s movement.

Joel coming out of the north woods.

He’s on foot. Green plaid and jeans wading through the flowered fields. With his shirtsleeves rolled up on purpose to let those brown arms and big hands of his swing. With not just the one, but two rifles on his back? Isn’t that a bit overkill?

Wait. One of them’s not a rifle. It’s…a guitar.

Well. Someone’s planned to make himself at home.

Your smile earns more real estate.

Good.

Soon he’s close enough for you to make out his grey curls shifting in the breeze. Then he disappears under the Roost, only to transform into the sound of heavy footfalls on the ladder.

Propping your chin on your forearms crossed over the back of the sofa, you watch through the front windows as he steps into the room and takes it in with a carpenter’s eye. He stops in silent appreciation, gaze scrolling the woodwork, the joints, posts, slope of the peak. The woodstove catches his notice and he taps the tile beneath it with his boot, his interest trailing up the pipe, squinting at the trap around the exhaust. His bottom lip pushes up in approval and he nods, surveying the windows now…and stops when he sees you.

“Hey there, Cinnamon Roll. Welcome to the Roost.”

A half-hidden smile. Without a word, he untangles himself out of his gear, digging through his knapsack and retrieving a box before coming out onto the balcony and making his way over to you. Swiping a hand through the air, he motions for you to move your knee so he can sit beside you, then pulls your foot up into his lap and takes a look over your makeshift bandage–the sleeve of an old blouse–before starting to unwrap it.

It hurts. But you let him.

"Who told you I needed a first aid kit?"

"Was at the tavern when Goldie got the call. Heard it myself. Where’s Ellie?”

“She’s making the rounds. Just left before you came in."

He grunts an acknowledgement, focusing on your toe, moving it so he can assess the wound a little better. A little wince; he can tell it hurts. Grabbing a tiny bottle of cleansing agent and a fresh bandage, he gets to work.

“Just so you know,” he grumbles, “we don’t have a lot of antibiotics just sitting around. You shouldn’t let this stuff fester.”

He must see your smirk from the corner of his eye. He matches it with his own.

“You using my words against me now, Dr. Miller?”

“Not at all. Just passing on some valuable knowledge that was gifted to me.”

He works quietly, carefully wrapping the toe, then your foot, splinting it in a way that should make it easier to walk on. Obviously not the first time he’s cared for a wound. He must have seen a lot out there in his wilder days.

“This one was truly an accident. For real this time,” you attest.

But his smile burns off to the stone underneath.

His sincerity precedes him. “I’m sorry.”

An apology. From Joel Miller. For what? Not trusting you? Keeping Ellie away? Speaking to you the way he did? You assume it’s all of the above. But it isn’t necessary to ask for clarification; you only want to put the missteps behind you and get on with leaning on each other.

“You’re staying, right?”

He nods once to you, then to the sofa. “This where I’m sleeping?”

“I mean, if you want one of our beds, that’s fine, you’ll just have to fight us for it. In which case, you might as well give up now.”

“No, it’s okay. It’ll be like sleeping under the stars.” He stares out at the mountains over the meadow, watching the shadow of a cloud roll over it, your foot warm between his hands, a thumb absently rubbing at the bandage. “This is nice out here. Quiet. I’m not used to it. But it’s good.”

“Yeah, I’ll admit I do better with some wide open spaces. And fewer people to share it with.”

Two lines form above the bridge of his nose. “Ellie told me about your ranch. Your family. I’m sorry to hear it.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Doesn’t mean it isn’t worth being sorry.”

He's got you there. “Everyone’s lost something. Someone. Several someones. The whole world’s a little sorry. But I appreciate it. It means we’re all in it together, those of us left." You make a study of him, his solemn nod, the way the sun glints off his watch. “I’m glad you took me up on my invitation, Joel. It’ll be nice having you here, being out here together.”

And then he turns to you, making his own study of you, as if watching your clouds roll away too.

“I agree.”

________

“Now, the E7 is the same as the E, you just pick up that third finger. Good. Now let’s do a three-four, E7, A, E.”

As the sun starts to set, your eyes have had enough of the spindle for one day and you’re cleaning up while Joel and Ellie muck around with his guitar out on the balcony. She’s a quick study, even if some of the chords are more difficult than others for her small hands, and it’s obvious he’s been working with her on it for a while.

Using a walking stick that Joel made from a pine branch–stripping the bark and wrapping one end with duct tape for a sliverless handle–you put together a little plate of berries and cheese, sling a thermos full of sun tea under your arm, and head out to the balcony.

“That's it. Thumb, wrist, wrist,” Joel coaches Ellie in a waltz strum as you hand off the treats to him and take a spot at the railing for one last survey of the meadow before the twilight goes. “That’s good. Keep that up, just like that. Hey there, songbird,” he drawls at you, “you know any Hank Williams?”

Rather than turn to him with a smile, you give it to the meadow, but let him hear it in your voice. “Do I? My dad grew up in Montana in the 50s and 60s. What do you think I was raised on?”

“Well go on then. You should know this one.”

Now that you’re truly listening and realize the chords he’s been working her through, you certainly do.

Ellie must have told him how you like to sing out here. So you do.

“Hear that lonesome whippoorwill, He sounds too blue to fly. The midnight train is whining low, I'm so lonesome I could cry.”

Joel encourages Ellie to keep going, and to add a B7 in at the end. “Go on,” he prompts to you when you turn around, smiling blithely as his two girls make him a pretty song to listen to.

“I've never seen a night so long When time goes crawling by. The moon just went behind the clouds To hide its face and cry.

“Did you ever see a robin weep When leaves begin to die? That means he's lost the will to live; I'm so lonesome I could cry.”

“The next verse is the last one, so play her out on some single rising notes and hit the final chord.”

Ellie bites her bottom lip and nods, taking the cue, but she doesn’t need to look at her hands anymore as she’s getting the hang of it, and instead smiles as you take on her favorite subject.

“The silence of a falling star Lights up a purple sky, And as I wonder where you are… I'm so lonesome I could cry.”

Her outro could use a little work, but it suffices and you give her due applause. “How are those fingers doing?”

She takes stock of her hands. “Look. Calluses.”

“You’ve got some work to do before you can call those welts calluses,” Joel teases.

“Well, I think she’s earned a treat. I didn’t bring those out here for you to hoard ‘em.”

Ellie balances the guitar against the arm rest and Joel hands over the plate, stealing a cherry and popping it into his mouth. Bringing her feet up, Ellie rests the plate on her knees and settles against Joel’s shoulder, smiling, content, proud of her progress, eating her reward and watching the night come on.

It’s such an intimate father-daughter scene that you’re about to go indoors and let them enjoy the view together. But then Joel moves his foot slightly as if to block your path. Catches your eye. Drapes his free arm over the back of the sofa and glances pointedly at his free shoulder, then back at you with a jerk of his head as if to say, You too, get in here, this one’s yours.

You do not have to be told twice.

Settling in with a long sigh, you don’t pay much attention as Ellie starts recounting everything she knows and doesn’t know about the first moon landing. You’re more interested in the way your cheek fits into Joel’s shoulder, and how his arm lays heavy and warm over yours, how his chest rumbles when he answers Ellie’s questions and laughs at her sass. How the shadows spill over the butte and pull through everything until they are everything.

And you notice how the moonlight reflects off the plate in Ellie’s hand, off the tuning keys of the guitar…and yet…it’s missing in one place it should be.

Joel’s wrists are bare.

Joel is laughing. And his wrists are bare.

________

Picking up his watch where it’s been living on the little table all week, you pack it into Joel’s knapsack on the last morning before heading out.

“Goldie’ll be here soon. You see Joel come back from the rounds yet?”

Ellie shakes her head as she’s packing her bag. “Nope. Went out an hour or two ago. You want me to go get him?”

Taking his bag and your own to the balcony, you throw them over the side to the forest floor below. “I’ll go. Been on my ass all week. I could use the walk.” You hand her the walkie on the way out, trusting her to take the incoming hail.

Fastest way to find someone on rounds is to walk the opposite direction, so you head south to the stream.

You don’t have to go far.

A group of sheep have gathered in the grass halfway between the Roost and the water, lazing peacefully as if gathered for a little tea party, and you can guess what they’re all discussing.

There, in the middle of their protective huddle, is the man you’ve been waiting for all this time; shoes off, one arm slung above his head, asleep in the sun and the warm, fragrant grass, as if he grabbed your description of the meadow and ran with it, needing the nap of a lifetime.

At first you keep your distance, not wanting to startle him. But then you realize that it might take more than your approach and a couple soft bleats from a lamb to wake him.

Especially with his good ear turned to the ground like that.

Safe. Warm. Content.

Goldie will be coming soon, but you’ll be able to see her from here. No need to wake him yet.

There’s time enough to just sit and shade his face from the sun, watch the steady rise and fall of his hand on his belly, and whisper a little prayer of thanks to the earth and wind and sky–hell, even to the sheep–that Joel and Ellie found their way to Jackson.

And that you found your way to them.

Good. Everyone's got a good reason to keep going then.

________

Lyrics from "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry" by Hank Williams

PREVIOUS: SPRING

NEXT: AUTUMN

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

(artwork by @stealyourblorbos)

#leave off your wandering #tlou fanfic #the last of us #the last of us fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x meadowlark

[southparkhcsocs]

Hi again, I’m the anon that asked for main 4 +Butters w/ an s/o who kicks and punches in there sleep and I was wondering if you could do main 4 +Butters with an s/o who gets stuck in a tree and now needs help getting down, thanks!

Thanks for the ask!

this is a fun one. but TREE?? Never seen one in my life RIP

Stan Marsh

Tsk tsk tsk

You don't know what happened

ig you were chasing a squirrel?

But you ended up in a tree before Stan even realised you were gone

Kyle Broflovski

Sigh

Well you knew he was going to be mad

but you didn't want to call the fire brigade

so you called Kyle

Just said to meet him by the big tree in the park

he called the fire brigade

Kenny McCormick

hohohohohoho

You thought it wasn't possible

but c'mon it's Kenny!

anything is possible with him

ANYTHING

Eric Cartman

So fucking stupid

You don't know what came over you honestly

but you wanted to clime that tree

he was right he didn't help you

good thing you were wearing his hat other wise he would of left you there.

Leopold "Butters" Stotch

He didn't even doubt you could clime the tree

tbh you think you just wanted an excuse to clime it

why??

why does anyone do anything in life?

#Sorry i cba to add much text because idk what to put rip #south park #kyle broflovski #stan marsh #eric cartman #kenny mccormick #butters stotch #south park kyle #south park stan #south park kenny #south park cartman #south park butters #kyle brovlofski x reader #stan marsh x reader #eric cartman x reader #kenny mcormick x reader #butters stotch x reader #south park kyle broflovski #south park stan marsh #south park kenny mccormick #south park eric cartman #south park butters stotch

[mcheang]

The return of Amy Squirrel

“When the superintendent personally asks you to work at one of the worst schools…you say yes.”

Not only is Amy a more suspicious teacher than Ms Bustier, but she will be taking over Ms Bustier’s class while the latter is on maternity leave.

Now Amy may treat everyone like they are in kindergarten, but she has a history. She was forcibly transferred after her rival framed her for being on drugs. Said rival Elizabeth was now a guidance counselor but it galled Amy to be sent to Paris, aka the emotionally troubled city, to teach the akuma class, under false charges. In hindsight, she really should have returned Elizabeth’s desk after stealing it to check for drugs.

The unfairness and humiliation made Amy reflect on the situation and she vowed to be smarter, more prepared to see through such tricks.

Naturally, when it comes to Chloe’s bullying, Amy puts Chloe in a time out. When Chloe calls her father angrily, but Amy scolds her for talking to her father as if he is her servant. And Chloe is making her family look bad. Audrey happens to be near Andre when Amy says this and hearing this, agrees Claudine should be disciplined and gives Amy free reign. Until she is respectable, she isn’t a Bourgeois. Chloe is akumatized except Amy has a solution for this. While the butterfly is happily accepted by Chloe, Amy punches her, knocking her unconscious while Alya posts on her blog about the akuma so Ladybug has an excuse to come purify the butterfly.

Chloe: You punched me!

Amy: Your mother authorised me to use any means to make sure you don’t keep embarrassing her. Frankly, you losing again to Ladybug would be humiliating since it just enforces to your mother that you are a loser.

Chloe is stunned to see she has lost influential power. Aka she can be sent to detention and her parents won’t help her.

Now, Marinette is holding a car wash for a future field trip. Seeing Marinette’s clumsy and efficient record (she was practically doing half of Caline’s work for the pregnant lady), Amy did not mind. She minded however when Lila, who did not show up at the car wash at all, said she felt bad about not being able to help and volunteered to help with the money arrangements.

Marinette and Caline: Absolutely not

The class was stunned. Marinette was not expecting someone to be on her side.

Caline: I know your reputation for being charitable Lila, unfortunately it is that reputation that leads me to mistrust you with this. Mylene told me how you had donated the money she organised to your fundraiser for the poor instead of her preferred save the earth charity. While the cause is still noble, the donators wanted the money to go to the earth. I cannot risk you donating our fundraiser trip money to another one of your noble causes. If you are that worried about their causes, you can ask your class to help with another fundraiser, except Marinette and Alya, they need to help me plan the field trip.

Lila gritted her teeth. This immature teacher was a hindrance!

Amy had done her research on Lila too. A disturbing number of ailments and disorders, long leaves of absences with parent approval, and she was not unaware how the class catered to Lila by helping her copy notes, buy her lunch, carry her backpack, etc. All in all, Amy would not want to look before she leapt and think Lila a liar but she finds her suspicious. When she confides to Damocles, he mentions Lila’s lying disorder.

Amy: THAT’S BONKERS! And if she is telling the truth, how can you know when she lies, we need a proper authority figure to guide us on how to help accommodate Lila’s needs. We cannot trust the poor girl whose ability to distinguish fact from fiction is so hampered.

Damocles: I have tried reaching out to her mother, but she’s so busy, I’m afraid emails are allowed. Rest assured they are detailed.

Having dealt with Elizabeth, Amy was not discounting the possibility that the email was a fake.

Amy: May I see Mrs Rossi’s occupation? What job is more important than being here for her daughter.

Principal passed her a paper. “She’s the ambassador of Italy.“

Amy: And what does it mean for Italy if she cannot even be there for her child?

Principal had no idea how to respond to that.

Amy personally went to the embassy to talk to Mrs Rossi and boy was there some clarifications to be made.

If Amy was immature, Diplomat Rossi was oblivious/ignorant. The diplomat readily agreed to come with Amy and see the principal.

The next morning, Lila was called to the principal’s office where she was roundly scolded for lying and framing Marinette.

Damocles: Lila Rossi, you are hereby expelled.

Lila promptly runs away, to become Cerise. She has 2 more mothers to financially rely on.

Mrs Rossi speaks to the class and tells them the truth about Lila. She apologises to Marinette. She also asks that if Lila should contact them, to call her.

Only, Lila isn’t answering any of their calls.

Marinette is so thrilled with Amy handling her bullies. She is so much more efficient than Ms Bustier!

Her efforts were enough to get her promoted from substitute to main teacher.

#miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #ml fic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #ml salt fic #lila is exposed #lila gets exposed #miraculous ladybug and bad teacher crossover

[the0retically]

The Suckening #12: The Twilight Zone:

Thoughts and quotes below, a wild first half of the finale

- I’ve put this off for too long it’s time to do this

- Oh hi le frog

- God Condi and bizly having to switch accents is so funny it sounds SO WRONG CONDI CANT DO IT AND BIZLY IS JUST DOING HIS OWN VOICE

- Love that the plan hinges on Taylor launter??

- Shilo being so adamant about not punching Emizel but then just doing it, I love them

- But oh god shilo has to talk to Theo because he looks like emizel

- Love music coming up when they’re going over the plan and then immediately cutting out when Arthur said demons instead of dangs

- “I know you hit it off with Viv” “my homegirl yeah” ARTHUR??

- “Who is it?” “It’s me” “…alpha” I cannot believe this

- ARE YOU SERIOUS MRS TAYLOR LAUNTER HAS A HELICOPTER????? CHARLIES DEFEATED SIGH WAS SO FUNNY

- SHARKBOY GAUNTLET????? WHAT IS HAPPENING

- “Good boy” “…..” “HA I WAS GONNA SAY GOOD MAN”

- I shouldn’t be sad that emizel can’t actually talk to Theo

- Also it scares me every time charlie asks what phone they’re using

- “I already told him about the plan to change faces” “then WHY THE HELL AM I DOING THIS?” “I don’t know I forgot”

- “This is such a classic Theo move I love you” :((((((

- Awwww them all being so excited emizel is the phantom flipper is so fun

- Bizly losing his mind over the dangs new plan is so funny

- Forgot how Edwards voice sounded god

- THEY HAVE TO LEAVE THE ROOM? Oh god

- “You know the plan, to be yourself” oh god

- Emizel you’re doing so bad this is awful

- 6 different Edwards??

- Why have they heard about shilo?

- Oh god this whole scene is like playing in my head I can see it so clearly

- Chester Chesser is such a cool name

- Paul with the unseen one freaky little dude I like him

- Ok yeah I love Paul he’s so fun

- You know who I miss though? Grefgore :( where is my boy

- Chet is insane??? Oh my god. The energy here is unmatched. Love Charlie and Condi just immediately going into laughter

- God the audio design is incredible in this campaign, the overlapping voices for Charlie is so good I love it

- “People think I’m weak do you think I’m weak?” “…you say that out loud in front of everyone?” OH GOD

- Paul and Chet being Emizel’s buds is so on brand I love it

- RENWICK!!!!!!!! HES COMMENTING!!!

- Oh it’s masquerade breakers that are competing

- …….and deacon rounded them up

- Interact with the show???

- “If there’s any invisible around” SO SMART ARTHUR

- Paul?? Oh they’re like the cameras. That’s really cool

- It’s fortnite, it’s fucking fortnite. Ok Charlie ok

- “I’d like to start-“ “ok shilo” “crying”

- Arthur is so cool I love him

- Oh there are humans—oh god it’s the dangs yikes that’s horrible

- “But I am walking the same amount of time!” “No” “….yuh-huh!”

- Charlie’s manic laughter was so fun who does shilo see?

- FORTNITE BUILDER!

- Love that they just keep saying minecraft and Charlie is like nah it’s fortnite building

- “Fortnite vampire” thanks Charlie

- OH GOD BIZLY IS LOSING IT

- ARTHUR IS POPPING OFF LETS GOOO

- “Now you’ve met the real devil” HOLY SHIT???? ARTHUR??

- OH!!! THIS IS WHERE THE WINGS COME IN THIS IS SO COOL LETS GO ARTHUR

- A wolf you say? Oh god the squirrel

- 3 roll off in a row?? That’s epic

- Uhhhh shilo? Please be ok

- LETS GOOOOOOO SHILO

- HE HAS A FRIEND!!!!

- Grangle!! Love him

- “Can I talk to satan?” “I’m not a say no dm am I? Oh god” PLEASE WHAT A MOOD

- HELICOPTER!!!!!! THE LAUNTERS ARE HERE

- Bizly losing his mind when Chet started talking is perfect I love Chet so much

- WEYLIN TWINS TIME!!!!!

- I LOVE THEM!!!!!!! HI HI HI HI HI

- IM CRYING THIS ENTIRE ENCOUNTER WITH CHET AND EMIZEL IS HILARIOUS

- “Hands too fast can’t stop them” Everyone breaks down laughing

- WHAT???? WHAT IS HAPPENING WITH EDWARD AND EMIZEL RIGHT NOW

- THE HELICOPTER HITS THE BARRIER????? WHAT??

- HE DIED????? RIP TAYLOR OH MY GOD

- NO HE SURVIVED LETS GOOOOOO HES NOT EVEN INJURED!!!!!

- Oh, :( one of the old people. It’s the people who know about the masquerade

- “Can you take me home?” “Yeah I’ll take you home” oh I’m gonna sob

- “I just walk with him for a while” “and then what?” “I don’t know. I keep walking. I don’t know where to take him” “ok, just keep walking” “Ben can you tell me about your family or anything you like?” And he just pointed out a bird in the trees :(( NOW HIM AND SHILO ARE TALKING ABOUT BIRDS IM NOT OK

- :( I agree with bizly this is the saddest thing Charlie has ever done

- I get why bizly said this destroyed him because I agree Ben’s whole situation is so incredibly sad

- Gotta wait to do part 2 but that was a phenomenal first half of the finale I loved it!!

#jrwi #jrwi thoughts #the suckening #shilo bathory #emizel tucker #arthur bennett #jrwi the suckening

[daughterofcain-67]

𝕽𝖆𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 (𝔭𝔱.8)

(Dean Winchester x Female Reader)

(masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Crowley makes Dean an offer, and unfortunately things go sideways. Crowley believes that perhaps Dean doesn’t know whether he wants to be a demon or human. You begin to wonder if Dean’s soul was still in tact after death after all, and thus you wonder if that is what’s causing Dean to become conflicted. What will become of the remnants of Dean’s soul if he continues on this path?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Mentions of murder, abusive moment from Demon Dean in the reader’s vision. May not be suitable for all audiences.

You and Dean made it to another hotel sometime last night and naturally, Dean’s first stop was at the local bar. It was predictable at this point but you didn’t really care anymore as long as Dean was happy with where he was for the time being.

In the beginning, Dean was happy. Then there was another issue with Sam that came up. Some guy thought that he could use Sam as bait to try and lure Dean out of hiding. But it wouldn’t work. He wasn’t going to stand for it. So he told the guy that he could shoot Sam all he wanted because whatever trouble Sam is in now, that was his responsibility.

Anyway.

Earlier, Dean went to some strip club and he was having a good time watching this exotic dancer swing her hips around a pole to Cherry Pie. God she was good and he could imagine so many things the two of them could do. Rather than be a good dancer, however, by taking his cash, she was being a bitch and evidently the security guard decided he wanted to get involved.

So now here Dean was, walking out of the bar with bloodied knuckles that he was cleaning off with his jacket only for Crowley to show up out of nowhere. Naturally.

“Oh Christ, what do you want?” Dean asked and looked at the demon.

“We need to talk about your little anger issues you’ve got going on, Squirrel. Come with me for a walk.”

“Really? This again? You and Y/N know I’m not a temperamental child, right? So what if I beat up a few guys here and there. It’s not like the authorities have caught us yet. So what’s the issue?”

“Y/N’s gotten onto you again?”

“No, but I know it’s only a matter of time before she tries to talk me out of some shit. She blames it on me being new to this demon thing, bein’ a rookie. I’ve had issues long before I became a demon and I handled them just fine, just like I am now so you both need to get off my damn back.”

“Just hush and come with me for a drink. We can talk more in depth about this when we’re in doors.” Crowley insisted and Dean rolled his eyes.

Then Dean’s mind drifted to you.

You had been by his side through this entire process of the mark changing him to become more and more of a demon, yet you didn’t have to be. This process wasn’t easy for him whether he cared to admit it or not, but you were patient with him. Maybe more patient than Crowley was.

Dean, well now that Crowley stopped sending his demons for “exercising” his use of the mark, he was trying not to kill so much. With that came the urges and the pent up rage he felt since he hadn’t been killing. Dean was trying his best to keep his cool, keep things under wraps as best as he could to at least show you he was trying.

Then there were just those moments where Dean snaps and once he gets one punch in, he starts to get overboard. He’s lost control with many security guards at different strip clubs and, or, bars these days.

Speaking of bars, he and Crowley found one that Dean didn’t beat a guy or two in. When they both walked in, they sat down and Dean placed an order. He just wanted a couple of shots but he knew Crowley well enough by now to know that he wanted something on the fancier, maybe a bit girlier side, with a tiny umbrella or two.

“So.. how are you feeling? On edge? Pent up? Unfulfilled?” Crowley asked and dean lifted a brow.

“I know I’m up there in age but I didn’t sign up for a viagra commercial. Y/N certainly hasn’t complained.” Dean replied with a smirk, causing Crowley to cringe.

“You two did what!?” He asked and he shook his head, “I didn’t ask for that kind of information.” The King of Hell said and pinched the bridge of his nose causing Dean to chuckle.

“Just the one time.” He said and the bartender came back with the drink and Dean’s shots.

“No, this isn’t about ‘little Dean’ or your.. extra curricular hobbies with the Mistress of Murder. I can’t believe I even said that.”

“Moving on.”

“Right, well.. It’s about the mark. It’s changed you.” Dean rolled his eyes and let them turn black as he looked at Crowley again.

“Yes, I’ve gathered that. It’s not news anymore.”

“I know you want to have all the fun you can though, party till you drop and all of that jazz. Live it up until Sam or whoever finds a way to take those black eyes away from you and what not, but the fact is this: You need to kill. Now.” Crowley said.

“What, did Y/N get a hold of you or something?”

“She’s been monitoring you and keeping me updated for your benefit, yes. She told me that she’s noticed you getting more uptight since I stopped letting the demons go after you.” Crowley continued and watched Dean take one of his shots.

“You heard it from Y/N herself that using that mark gives you a high. Murder is your drug, death is your favorite poison. And at this rate you’ll be spending the rest of your eternity to find it. Did she talk to you about working for me in your… negotiations?” Crowley asked.

“No, she left that out. Which I would have refused anyway since it’s coming from you and I don’t need much more monitoring when it comes to stuff like this.” Dean said and rolled his eyes.

“Okay, well I had the idea for you to, well… kill for me. It’s an offer you can’t refuse because it will keep your addiction from over taking you. I want you to kill for us. I know you can’t take much more waiting on who to kill next, so the question is are you going to kill some poor bastard on the side of the road, or someone who has it coming?”

Dean lifted a brow. If you knew about this, why hadn’t you told him? Did you not know the details of this little idea of Crowley’s?

“Who do you think has it comin’ huh?”

“Look at who you’re talking to, I’m a business man and I’ve got plenty of clients that would sell their souls to kill people in order to get what it is they want.” Crowley began.

“I’ve got a guy named Lester who sold his soul to kill little miss Mindy, a cheating wife who wanted a divorce but Lester wants to keep everything he has. I’ve got a girl for you to kill named Bethany - Catrina, her former best friend, said Bethany stepped on her heart and left her behind because she chose the lover, Alexander, over their decade long friendship. I’ve got another man on our hit list named Sean, his wife wants a divorce to run off with a high school sweetheart who happens to be the handy man, but she doesn’t want to split their funds so she thinks murder is the best option. That’s just to name a few. You can take your pick.”

Dean listened to the list, “Listen, they’re gonna die one way or the other. So why not take the chance and feed your little beast?”

“Fine. Let me take care of the Bethany and the Catrina thing. But just so we’re clear… this is a one time gig, got it?”

After that, Dean left the bar. He was eager to get a kill out of the way, but he wanted to know what you had to say about it first, if you knew the details of Crowley’s little proposal.

You were in the hotel room that you and Dean were sharing and you were watching some shitty tv show. The last thing you heard from Dean was that he was going to some strip club. Not really much of a shocker for you since he seemed to be able to thrive off that kind of entertainment.

You were just watching an episode of NCIS, thinking of all the different ways you could have gotten away with whatever murder was happening in their case. To you it was like there was always something the perp messes up.

The door of the hotel room opened and when you looked up, you saw Dean walking through the door and you noticed his bloody knuckles first, causing you to sit up from the mattress.

“Let me guess. Another security guy?” You asked as you waved your hands to make the blood on his hands disappear.

“Yeah.”

You hummed a little as you got up and went to the fridge. You opened it up and got a couple of beers for the both of you and you tossed a can to him before sitting on the corner of the bed.

“What’s with you? You’re quiet.”

“Crowley came for a visit of sorts after I beat up the guard.” Dean opened the can and took a sip.

“Oh yeah? What’d he have to say this time after the obvious, ‘I say, Squirrel. Your anger issues are out of control’ routine he gives you?” You asked, watching him smirk a little at your shitty Scottish accent to mock the other demon.

“Just that he knows I’m on edge.” You heard him begin as he leaned his back against the chair he was sitting on.

“Care to elaborate? Or are you going to be all stubborn and make me pull teeth for info?” You asked and Dean chuckled.

“He said he talked to you about telling me to work for him. Asked me if we discussed it in our… negotiations as he put it.” You smirked a little when you recalled your method of negotiating with Dean. It was definitely an interesting time you had to admit.

“He mentioned something about that, but I didn’t know any details. And frankly, you and I were too busy to really discuss more outside of you at least trying to hold back a bit at least for the time being until we have a solution.”

“Well, Crowley thinks he has some kind of solution… he wants me to kill for him, on behalf of those bastard that sold their souls to kill someone because they think it’ll benefit them somehow.” Dean answered and you opened your can of beer before laying down on the mattress again.

“Huh… well what did you tell him?”

“I told him that I’d take one of his cases but it would only be a one time thing. I’m not gonna be his bitch.”

You smirked a little to yourself, “Would we expect anything less from you?” You waited for a response but there was nothing. You looked over at him and saw him looking down at the First Blade he continued to carry with him.

“What is it?”

“One of the cases… it seems off. The scumbag that made the deal has it coming first instead she wants to take someone else’s life.” His response interested you. You thought that for sure that with the state he’s in now, a kill was a kill, no matter how guilty or innocent.

“Well, what’s the deal?” You asked.

“This girl named Catrina…. Her and her former little bestie or whatever were close or what have you. But apparently her friend, Bethany, or whatever ghosted Catrina and left for Alexander. Guess she preferred the meat package rather than her friend and Catrina or whatever got jealous.” Dean said.

“O..Kay? Well, what seems off about that? It doesn’t seem like that much of a big deal.” You said.

“Well, Crowley told me that Catrina isn’t exactly that wholesome. She shouldn’t really play the victim because she was bangin this Alexander guy so I think she just ants to kill Bethany to get Alexander all to herself.”

“Is that something against some code you have? A kill’s a kill and I don’t think it’s a smart move to mess that up no matter who’s more guilty.”

“It’s just.. I want the kill to be someone worth killing. I don’t want to work for some bastard or some bitch that thinks they’re holier than thou or they want to play the victim.”

This got more and more interesting the more he spoke. You wondered that if he was rationalizing his kills, maybe he did have some sort of morality left in him.

And if that was the case… did that mean Dean still had some of his soul left? If he did, how damaged would his soul be after dying and becoming human?

“Well you’re being awfully quiet this time around.” The hunter said and you shrugged.

“I get what you mean. If the kill is worth it, the high lasts a little longer and the urges are at bay a little than with some demon or even an angel.” You agreed, having been there.

“So you think I should kill the girl that made the deal?”

“Well no. The girl she made the deal to kill may have deserved it from her point of view too. But it’s ultimately up to you on who’s life you choose to take.” You said.

“However, I think it wouldn’t be smart to try and double cross Crowley and screw up the deal. After all he is a businessman.”

“He’s just another demon. As long as he gets a soul, what’s the big deal?”

“Maybe the fact that a deal is a deal and when a human makes a deal it automatically secures the contract on who gets the soul?” You reminded.

“I don’t know the so call ‘legalities’ of it all, but if the deal is broken by either party, Crowley may not get the soul.”

“You think I actually care about if he gets a soul or not? He only made this offer to me so I could kill somebody.” Dean said, you could tell he was starting to get aggitated.

You didn’t know what he would ultimately decide to do, but you had a feeling that it would be the exact opposite of what you advised him to do. You didn’t blame him for having that rebellion towards Crowley and you knew that Dean wouldn’t want to work with Crowley even if this little idea of his went well. Even if Dean did do everything right, you knew it likely wouldn’t be a permanent solution to Dean’s problems.

“Well whoever you decide to use that blade on, just be tactful and don’t get caught.” You sighed a little.

“You mean you aren’t going with me?”

“To be fair, Crowley offered this chance to you. You’ve had a lot pent up and it’s about time you get your release some how before you blow up on someone else. You’re strong and it’s only a matter of time before you beat some poor security guy so bad the he won’t be able to get back up.” You said.

“So? That doesn’t mean you don’t get to come along.” Dean said and you shook your head.

“You go on, I wouldn’t want to be in the way this time around.” You insisted as you glanced over at Dean who was looking at you with some kind of skeptical expression.

“Whatever you say.” He sighed before he got up from his seat. He threw his now empty can of beer away before he grabbed his jacket, then you watched him look at you. You wondered what was going through his mind at the moment.

“Oh don’t worry, Honey, I’ll be fine. Make sure you’re back for dinner.” You joked and Dean rolled his eyes before he walked out of the door.

You got up and you looked out of the window and you watched him get into his Impala. Hoping that he would get his head on straight for this kill so he wouldn’t get himself into trouble, you decide to lay back down once more. Your head was resting on the pillow and you let yourself drown into the thoughts of your mind before your eyes closed.

Dark, darker, yet darker the scene grows in your mind until you are surrounded by nothing but black. Then a red light begins to beam. It’s a small amount of light but it interests you enough to walk towards it. When you did, you’re blinded for a moment before your senses are overwhelmed with the stench of sulfur and iron.

You opened your eyes and you see yourself on a beach like you’ve never seen before. A beach of horror and death really as the ocean was nothing but crimson colored liquid you’ve been covered in more than you like to admit. A literal ocean of blood. The sand was white, mixed with sulfur and you assumed it was remnants of whatever demons you’ve killed in the past and even present. The sky above you was an ugly, morbid grey, perpetual cloudiness that would always hide the warmth of the sun or the coolness of the moon.

There were no signs of life for miles as you walked alone the gory shore. There were no animals, whatever floral life around you was also grey and dead. It was a depressing kind of place really.

Then, along the horizon as you walked you began to see a familiar figure. It was the familiar hunter that you had been traveling the road with. His clothes were stained with blood, hands red, but instead of that sinister grin that this new Dean had, the expression on this Dean’s face was sorrowful. He was muttering something incoherent and as you walked closer you could hear him.

“What have I done? They’re all dead because of me. It’s all my fault.”

“Dean? What are you talking about?” You dared to ask.

He looked over at you, his forest green eyes held so much sorrow. He seemed to gave bags under his eyes as if he’d lost weeks of sleep and you could tell he had some sort of immense weight on his shoulders.

“I never wanted it to come to this. I should have never gotten this mark.”

“You did what you had to do. You had to kill Abaddon. You tried your best to beat Metatron and now he’s defeated. Castiel has him held captive.” You reminded.

“That’s not what I mean…”

You watched as Dean looked away from you, then he held out his hand and parted the scarlet waters and it revealed so many bodies. The bodies of the vessels demons and angels used, the human bodies left behind that he’s killed without a second thought. You could see the bodies of those that he loved like Kevin the prophet. You saw more bodies of people he must’ve known even before he met you. There was a mother and daughter holding hands in their dead state. You saw his father, John Winchester. You saw other men and women he knew and loved that he felt so guilty for.

“You didn’t kill all of these people… some, yes. But there is a difference between murder and what happens in war.” You said

“Cain thought that I was worthy of the mark. He thought I was worthy to have it. I may be a skilled fighter and a killer but… I never wanted to be who I’ve become now.”

“What do you mean?”

“My vessel is fighting to be a full demon. I don’t want to be that person. I never wanted any of this to happen and I know where my story will end if I continue down this path…”

When Dean closed up the sea of blood once more, he extended his hand elsewhere and you could see red smog beginning to form. It started circling and growing thicker, the red turning darker until it became black. You watched the circle of smoke continue to whirl almost like a tornado until it finally dissipated to nothing.

What was left behind was heartbreaking. It was Sam, laying on a marble slab of some sort. His eyes were opened yet lifeless. His body had been butchered by an axe. His blood pooled around him, skin was already pale and lips purple and he looked stiff as if he was already in rigor mortis.

“All he did was try and help. He was right… I should have listened.”

“Oh quit being such a damn sissy.” The second voice sounded just like Dean.

In the distance, you saw a man holding the very axe that killed Sam. It was Dean in his demonic state with a smirk on his face. His hair was thicker and he certainly looked healthier than the human Dean. “You’re pathetic with him around, Sam was always in the way of your true potential.”

“Sam doesn’t know just how alive this condition makes me feel. I’m happier now than I’ve been in years!”

“But how much of it is real, huh? How long can you go around in bars before you accept the monster you are?!” The human Dean shouted and pulled out his demon blade.

“Oh you think you’re in the right state to fight me? All you do is mope around in your depression and self loathing. Me? You call me a monster, but I call myself complete and without any attachments holding me back. Killing Sam was the best thing I’ve ever done for us and you know it.” The demon replied.

You wished there was some way for them to coexist but you knew deep down there was no way that it could happen. Once a demon, always a demon. At least to the extent of your knowledge.

“Sam didn’t deserve to die like that! He should have been old and grey and had a life of his own! He should have never been a hunter in the first place. The kid was going to college before I pulled him into this mess in the first place!”

“Oh now you’re making me want to use this pretty axe to mess up that face. It’s a shame that it would be as pretty as mine if you slept more.” The demon chuckled and started walking towards the human.

“I’d like to see you try and kill me.” You could hear the human Dean say and your eyes widened as the fight initiated between the two of them.

When the two of them fought, you saw a third figure. The same man with the longish, unruly hair and salt and pepper beard. The face of the man that told you to accept the invitation from Sam and Dean to get you wrapped up in this mess in the first place. Cain motioned for you with his head to follow him into the dead trees.

Your brows narrowed as you decided to follow Cain whole the two Deans fought themselves to the death.

“He’s losing his grip.” You could hear Cain say.

“What does it matter to you? You were the one that gave him the damned thing. You caused this and you know that he was going to go through something like this!” You said, brows narrowing.

“It’s amusing that you’re angry now. When we first spoke you seemed so indifferent.”

“So I may have learned some things. Big whoop. Now how the hell did you get over this phase? Everyone knows you were a human before you became a demon. How did you learn to subside those urges and become less of a dick like other demons are? You fell for Colette and she convinced you to stop killing. How did you get to the point where you can actually listen to her?”

“You overestimate me, Y/N. I was in the spot Dean is in right now and I was in that spot for years.” Cain said and he walked to you.

“Tell me, though. Are you having fun with the new Dean? He’s not wrong about being happier. He’s got a weight lifted off his shoulders and doesn’t have a care about anyone or anything in the world. He’s the perfect killing machine and Crowley is not wrong for having someone like that help him make Hell what it once was. And Crowley isn’t wrong for wanting you to help him.”

“You know I never want to go back there. I don’t care if Hell falls apart or not. I can get what I want here just as easily as torturing should Abaddon forced me to kill in Hell.” You said.

“But you’re losing that urge. That’s the difference. Even without the consumption or injection of human blood, you’re becoming more and more like your father.”

“Even if I am, that doesn’t help Dean’s case. How can we get him to the point where you and I are now. You and I are still demons and we both have learned self restraint. You didn’t answer me on how you did it.”

Cain sighed as he ran a hand through his hair.

“You want to know how I did it? Here it is…” He said before he leaned in and whispered something into your ear so that neither of the Deans could hear if they were close by.

“You really think that could work?” You asked and he held out his arms before saying, “It’s what worked for me for a while.”

“Now that you know, the choice is yours and how to handle it. You know as well as the other demons of hell that Sam is looking for Dean. He’s tortured and killed demons just to find Dean and to no avail, obviously. You know Sam will never stop and if he doesn’t, that demon Dean may be right and he may kill his brother just as I killed mine.”

With that last thing in mind, Cain disappeared and you sighed.

When you walked back out, you saw that the demon Dean had beaten the human to a pulp and your eyes widened. With one last blow, the demon beheaded the human with the very same axe he used to kill his brother. Then he turned to you with his eyes an onyx black.

You could feel your heart racing in your chest as he walked towards you with the axe. He held it up as he asked you, “So.. what did dear old Dad tell you, Sweetheart?” He asked.

The tone of his voice made you sick to your stomach. It felt like he was planning at least ninety nine ways to kill you on the spot. “Just reminiscing with Cain on how he was in the same spot you were in before you killed your human self.” You said, trying to keep your tone calm.

You watched as Dean raised his hand and struck your cheek so hard you had to step back. When you looked up at him, you never thought he would strike you after all you’ve been through, “You really think you can lie to me? You’re about as transparent as a glass. I know you’re thinking of saving whatever humanity’s left.”

You took out the blade that you carried around with you and when you were going to use it, Dean wrapped his hand around your throat and pinned you up against one of the dead trees.

“This isn’t you and you know it, Dean.”

“You don’t know a damned thing.” Then he squeezed tighter around your neck, cutting off your air supply. You lifted your hands to try and pry his grip off your neck but to no avail.

“And if you ever double cross me… I’ll kill you in the real world just like I’m about to do here.” Dean said as he dropped the axe, knowing it wouldn’t kill you. Then he took the First Blade and he used it to slice your torso from groin to sternum. The worst part was that he had a sickening grin throughout all of it.

And for you.. everything went black

You woke up with a gasp and you flipped down the sheets and padded yourself down. You were alive. There wasn’t a wound on you. You were alive and Dean hadn’t killed you after all.

“About bloody time you woke up.” You heard Crowley say and you looked up at him, sitting up all of a sudden.

“You know, I really don’t appreciate the sudden appearances.” You rolled your eyes. Then you noticed the heavily displeased look on Crowley’s face, causing you to groan.

“What did he do?”

“Are you kidding me!? What didn’t that bastard do!? He killed my client so now I won’t be able to get the soul! He had the audacity to push me around like nothing in front of my servants! And he had the Gaul to tell me he would do whatever he wanted to do!” You let the demon ramble on.

You sighed, not at all surprised that Dean would make the wrong choice. “Why does he always feel the need to make the worst decision possible?” You asked to yourself, lifting a hand to rub your temple since you could practically feel the upcoming migraine.

“So what exactly happened? What did you say to him?” You asked Crowley and you got up from the bed, trying not to think too much about that vision or dream you just had.

“I told you. Dean came in the bar when I was being filled in by my underlings. I asked Dean how the job went and he told me that he killed my client instead of the designated victim!” He began and you pulled your hair up into a bun, listening.

“I asked him what he thought he was doing, he said whatever he wanted to do. And you know what I told him? I told him that I don’t think he knows what he wants.” He continued, and you lifted a brow.

“If he was really a demon, he would have done what he was told. He would have killed the designated victim without a second thought. He wouldn’t have had a preference if he were a full demon. I mean, even if Catrina was more of a bitch for her end of the whole ordeal, she was still a client who’s soul I lost because Dean can’t listen to an order! I even threatened the idea that he may have felt sorry for Bethany. If he had felt bad, then maybe he’s more human after all except he’s got those pretty black eyes of his and he’s working alongside you and me.”

“Is this rant over? He’s still new to this thing. You knew deep down this would be more challenging than you thought. Cain didn’t always kill the first person he comes across either.” You reminded.

“All I’m saying is that he needs to pick a damned side!” He said and you hummed a little.

“He thinks he’s all big and bad now that he’s partially a demon and has that mark. Everything I’ve done is for him and this… this is how he thanks me?! By killing my client and threatening me since I told him to pick a side? He thinks he can kill me if I make some kind of move, like he has the upper hand on him!”

“To be fair, he does have the upper hand. You haven’t had too much experience fighting on the field so he’d definitely beat you and even kill you.” You replied point blank.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Hey, you were the one that decided to have him tag along with you. Plus, you’ve never had the best relationship with the Winchesters so I don’t see why you keep treating him like a best friend. A best friend wouldn’t treat you like Dean has.” You reminded and Crowley went silent for a moment.

“He said he wasn’t my ‘bestie’ and I get that. I don’t know why I try with him. All he said was that if he wants a kill, he’ll call. But with this last job I don’t think that’s gonna happen anytime soon.”

“So I’m gathering you basically broke up with Dean? Why did you come here to bitch to me about your issues if you two are done.” You asked, causing Crowley to shrug a little and as he went to go out of the door.

“Consider it a caution. Those Winchesters can’t be trusted. And at this rate, I’m considering giving Moose a call.” He said.

“That’s the move you’re planning on making? Damn if you wanted Dean to kill you that badly why didn’t you just tell him to kill you?”

“It was nice talking to you too, Y/N. But seriously. If you want to save your skin, either call Sam and tell him where Dean is, or walk away.” After that, Crowley walked out of your hotel room door.

You sighed but you had to admit that all of this was something to think about along with that vision you had. Something had to be going on with Dean. Maybe he wasn’t sure what he truly wanted after all.

Some hours went by and you started to think about some things. What if Crowley was right and Dean couldn’t get a grip on himself? What if turning him over to Sam was the best way?

If they could change Dean back into a human, all you could think about was that vision. What would happen to Dean if he was human again? What kind of a toll would that take on Dean if he remembered everything he did as a demon? How much guilt would he have on his shoulders?

Yet if Dean remains a demon, you knew that so many innocents would be killed. That is if Dean would end up choosing to kill despite his morals. You knew that he would kill his own brother without hesitation like he did in your vision as well.

“What are we going to do now, Dean?” You asked yourself but something deep within your conscience knew what you should do.

You pulled out your phone and scrolled through your text messages just to see the one name you were conflicted about contacting.

Sam…

Hey guys, sorry for the cliffhanger. But thank you to all of you who have been reading this series! I hope you are all enjoying the plot so far and I hope you all are doing well!

Tag List:

@roseblue373 @deans-spinster-witch @johannelis2302nely @justtrying2getby-blog @alternativeprincess94 @doctorlexilouwhosblog @deangirl96

#jensen ackles #supernatural #dean winchester #supernatural imagine #spnfandom #dean imagine #supernatural x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester imagine #jensen ackles imagine #moc dean #moc!dean #mark of cain dean #mark of cain #demon dean x reader #demon dean #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean winchester fanfiction #deanwinchtser #spn fanfic #spn #spnfamily

[sokokoko]

I feel like sharing this. I wrote it a while ago based off my burn out :p

Burn Up, Burn Out, Little Star

Lately,

I've been

Thinking and thinking

But reaching no end

Squirrelling away

In that place my thoughts tend

I think that I’m sleepy

I think that I’m beat

A sec to rest

Would be pretty neat

I just want to close my eyes

Indulge in things that don't feel wise

What do I care?

Why should I care?

If things go wrong

There's a creature in my chest

Pacing, pacing, I can't rest

Pacing, pacing, back and forth

I'm scared you'll see it and my worth

The creature's in my brain

Doing its song and dance all over again

I'm here with it

The exit’s there, but I can't fit

The guiding light has not been lit

A single task becomes seven, eight, twenty

My plate has already got plenty

Burn up, burn out, little star

No one should wonder where you are

You're just a blip

Some shoulder’s chip

Your dreams have told you so

Your heart has told you so

By now you should know

You're just a blip

Some shoulder’s chip

That heavy heart

Is just the start

Oh, heavy mind, oh, weighty soul

Go back to hiding in your hole

Deep in your head, you can be just be

Cross the line to fantasy

Your problems don't dwell there

This hell won't follow there

Your mind and spirit turn to air

Now your body's lost its pair

It's all done and dusted, then?

You’ll come back to reality exactly when?

You can't just not exist forever

You know this farce is far from clever

You’ll dopamine yourself to death

Reality will steal your breath

With the punch you're soon to get

Are you feeling sick yet?

The creature’s in my insides

Pacing my lungs, my stomach, mind

It churns my gut to see them try

I can't reach back, oh, ceaseless ‘why's

I waste my time in just a blink

It churns my gut to watch me think

Reality is just a blip

Reality’s my shoulder’s chip

Burn up, burn out, little star

Your supernova travels far

That heavy heart

Is just the start

Your mind and body; worlds apart

#writing #soko #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writeblr #writers #creative writing #I actually forgot about this #i really like it though #the way I conveyed the emotion #casually baring my soul ✨ #random honesty #moment #? i guess #poetry #lyrics #personal #my poem #original poem #poetsandwriters #poets on tumblr #writers and poets #poetscommunity #sad poem #idk if it's sad #it's more just an extreme look into someone's mind imo #judge for yourself #✨ #mental health #burnout

[total-drama-takes-the-squeakquel]

Revenge of the island was doomed from the start when the first character they introduced was jo. Like what the fuckkk at first I was like. Is that human like wtf 🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴 then girls first line is “stay out of my way if you value your kiwis” like girl you sound like 🤓🤓🤓 yk what I mean. Like bro Scott’s just chilling what did he do to you fuckface. They should’ve let Anne Maria hair spray jo to death of something but wtffff jo u r not the main character 😭😭😭😭 then let’s talk about this bitchs behavior is the goddamn intro. Girls punching a punching bag in the middle of the woods (whime did you get that). Cameron is almost killed and blasted off into space and jo catches him and does one good thing for humanity then immediately after just tosses him onto the ground  to go chase after brick???? WTF we get it ho ur not like othim girls and u wanna be one of the boys sooo badly 😭😭😭 stfu what did brick even do to you. His first words to u were ma’am because he’s a fucking simp and rides him dick 24/7 like why be so mean to himmm. Goofy ass. Then he’s on the beach racing with brick and almost driving him into cardiac arrest like bro don’t kill him. Ik ur heartless and all but girllll no one asked 🥴🥴🥴 brick should’ve beaten the shit out of him. Out of my way triathlete coming thru 😈😈😈😈😈🤓🤓🤓🤓🤓🤓 omg I’m so scared 😱😱😱😱😱 go away. Literally no one asked girl. he almost drowns Zoey and Staci just to be number one like broooo ur actually done this time . Then launches himself off Sam to do a flip like girl u are not the main character. I’d rathim go thru 60 episodes of zoke and commando Zoey than watch jo every again. S4 was literally so bad and I blame it all on him. Then he’s pissed at dawn for getting to shore quicker BABE TAKE A CHILLPILL GODDAMNN….. wish dawn could’ve owned him and exposed him or smth idk. Make him feel ashamed. No wonder lightning thought u were a man like bro Shut up guys are annoying and so are you 😭😭😭😭 so I consider him just as bad as one. Lightning should’ve kept misgendering him I found it funny. “Sorry you had to lose to a girl 🤓🤓🤓🤓” wow you’re so fucking different!!! Do you want a medal too. Lightning should’ve beat his ass on the spot and I wish Chris ran him over with his little go cart. Sooo glad Scott found the invincibility statue because if jo didn’t get eliminated ep10 I would’ve straight up killed myself fr 😭😭 like no joke I’d hang myself from the ceiling. he’s always so grumpy too wtfffff. he should’ve got mutated instead of Dakota I’m not even kidding. Calling squirrels stupid is also lowkey kindaaaaa 😐😐 look at yourself Joey 😭😭 you’re not any hotter. he looks like one of those inbred lion/tiger hybrids you know what I mean. That gamer indent isn’t cute eithim….. 😬😬😬😬 thought you were an athlete. That’s embarrassing!!! Now ur skull is permanently mutated that’s so cringe. Then he laughs at lightning getting hit in the head and then gets trampled by a trampoline LMAO glad that bitch got him karma. Brick did nothing to help him in that moment and he’s so real for that tbh. Should’ve kicked dirt onto his head but whatevvvssss 😐😐😐😐. “All right let’s do this 🤪🤪🤪” and then falls into the water LMAOOOOOOO failure!!!!! Imagine 😭😭 like girl I thought you were a pro athlete thime’s no way ur real. Notice he’s smiling at Anne Maria getting hurt when hitting the bottom of the totem pole Everytime. That’s the same state Jeffrey Dahmer gave his victims before he killed them and ate them. he’s a psychopath I’m not even kidding. Then he kicks the trampoline out from under AM like UMMMM???? At least try to help him jfc. Toxic rats was the best team bc they don’t have jo. “Good grief 😐😐😐” corny ahhh line. Chester should’ve beaten the shit out of him too tbh 😭😭😭😭 I wish so hard that he died when he fell down that wayerfillll like aughhhshshsgwuwjwjjjebns.

If the maggots lost they def would’ve voted out Jo or smth but nooo he has plot armor ong 😭😭😭😭😭 I’d rathim listen to a podcast made by Staci than listen to Jo’s corny ass nicknames. Then he has to go how’d they get in front of us!!!! Like MAYBE… this is a wild suggestion too. Maybe you’re…. A SHIT TEAM LEADER 😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱 crazy I know. Brick should’ve beat him ass in that thumb wrestle but jo just tries killing him like jfc. Instead of a thumb wrestling contest they could’ve done an idk. Ummm like whoever can hit the othim upside the head with the a rock the hardest idk. And brick could’ve won and DESTROYED that ho. I’m not good at making suggestions. And everyone coming at me in the replies how’s it feel to be wronggggg 😁😁😁😁 y’all need to stop dickriding jo asap idk. he’s not that good. he let him team to crashing into that cabin like bro stop trying to kill everyone lmao. Jo kinda dresses like those homelsss ppl u see on the side of the highway with those goofy “if you love god donate to me!!!” signs. Idk girl just get a new wardrobe or smth. Brick would help you but since you’re such a shithead he’s not helping u lmao cope and seethe 😙😙😙😙 he probably smells like axe deodorant too lmao imagine. 

Erm yeahhh I’m done. Idk what to call my anon. Jater because I am a jo hater!!! Maybe I’ll rant about her in episode 2 because he rlly got on my nerves that episode but he also gets on my nerves every episode sooooo 😒😒😒😒 bye xoxo. You’re mad because you know I’m right 😘😘😘😘

-

#long post #tw sui ideation #jater #jater are you typing these out gendering jo correctly and then replacing every instance of female pronouns w he/him/his #because you called Anne Maria a him and also put thime instead of there?? #total drama

[jksprincess10]

Are we out of the woods 3. Camping

Summary : Your father is a dangerous man who has a lot of enemies. One day, you’re taken from your home by force to go to a safe cabin in the woods to be protected from an unknown danger by three of his men: Ironhead, Pope and Catfish. You’re not really a nature enjoyer, but in your boredom, you discover a new love for nature. You also get to know the men working for your dad and interest sparks between you and the mysterious and silent Francisco.

CW: canon-like violence, explicit smut, reader is kind of a princess at first, talks of divorce, drugs & alcohol, talks of addiction, slight age gap (reader in her mid 20s, frankie in his late 30s), jealousy, tension, frankie is a mess.

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The cabin slowly gets suffocating. The lack of news from your dad just tells you that you’ll be here for a while. You can’t believe you have to ask to go outside, but you bite the bullet, and you do.

The air is fresh on your face and you already feel better. Except that there’s Frankie, Santi and Will. Always there. Always following.

“You know, dad wouldn’t have put me somewhere where I risk anything. Do you guys really have to follow me everywhere? Especially the three of you. Feels a bit overkill.” You say as you keep walking, appreciating the cracking sounds of the leaves under your boots-clad feet.

“Can’t we appreciate the nature too?” Santiago asks with a teasing smirk.

You shrug.

“And we wanted to show you a few tips and tricks to survive in the wild.” Will justifies.

“Why not.”

And they spend the next hour doing just that; showing you how to start a fire with little, how to filter water, how to hunt. Granted, you’re very bad at it - especially the latter ; you can’t even catch a squirrel. And the boys are having a field trip laughing at you.

“Bet you wouldn’t even survive a night out in a tent.” Frankie laughs with the boys, his body folded in half.

“Yeah, you think so, Fish?” You respond abruptly, cheeks heating up with shame and anger. “Then, I’m sleeping in a tent tonight.”

“Oh yeah?” He’s serious now, his dark brown irises fixated on you with a challenge. “Then I’m staying in a tent with you to make sure you don’t cheat.” He extends his hand to you, and you take it, feeling his rough palm in yours. You try to grip it as hard as you can.

“Deal.”

So, there you are, after that stupid idea, trying to make yourself useful as Frankie builds the tent. The moon is already high in the sky and your chosen plot of land is lit with oil lamps. The last mosquitoes of the season were attracted to the light, and you were thankful it distracted them from eating you through your thick clothes.

You try to get a fire started and it takes about 100 tries until you see sparks coming out. You do your best to keep the fire going, and your face is lit by flames when Frankie is done putting the tent together.

“See? I’m not so terrible.” You say proudly.

“Yeah, if we forget that it took forever.”

Frankie sits beside you, and you look at him from the side, admiring the glimmer of the flame through his beautiful dark eyes.

“So, you’ve never been camping?”

“Nope. I like my comfort.”

“I could have guessed.” Frankie smirks.

You close your fist and hit his shoulder, but your punch is mostly absorbed by his thick black coat. The man simply laughs, and it’s so luminous that you don’t ever want to see him frown.

“What did you do before working for my dad?”  You ask, your eyes stuck to the flames.

“Military. Served for a few years. That’s where I met the boys. I was a pilot.”

“Then?”

“The rest isn’t really fun.” He sighs. “What would you do for work if you didn’t have your dad around?”

“I always wanted to write. I write, yeah… But my dad doesn’t really want me to put my name out there. Guessing it has to do with his business.” You make quotation marks with your fingers to accentuate the last word.

“Your father is a good man. He cares about you.” Frankie gets lost in his thoughts for a few seconds, wondering if he was a good man himself. “What kind of stories do you write?”

Your cheeks heat up. You’d rather not talk about your silly smutty romance novels. “You probably can’t read. So, why would you want to know?”

“You’re right, I’m not the greatest reader.” Frankie chuckles.

“You said you were a dad.” You affirm to change the subject. “How old are you?”

“Closer to 40 than 30.” He responds mysteriously.

So, you were maybe… 10 years younger than him.

“Thought you were 50 because of your musical taste.”

He rolls his eyes. “C’mon, let’s snuff the fire and go to sleep. I’m tired.” He extinguishes the fire and crawls into the tent first. You look away from the shape of his ass accentuated by skinny jeans that belonged to the 2010s. You follow suit and zip the tent behind you. The space is small and two sleeping bags barely fit. At least you won’t be cold… You unzip your coat and set it aside before you lay in the sleeping bag. Frankie does the same. His eyes are fixated on the tent’s roof, like he can see the shape of the moon beyond the canvas.

“Do you have a daughter or a son?”

Frankie sighs, like the question physically pains him. “A little girl. Isabella. I can’t see her though.” The only proof of her existence is a small photo in his wallet.

“Why?”

“Do you always ask so many goddamn questions?” He sighs again, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is extinguished like the fire. You close your eyes and try to go to sleep. You have to mentally block all the outside noise and remind yourself that you’re safe.  Your body is warm in the cocoon of your sleeping bag, and you snore lightly.

Frankie can’t sleep. Of course, you asked about his daughter. He had to remind himself that he didn’t owe you an explanation or a glimpse of his life. But fuck, did he want to let you in. He turns to the side and look at your blissful face, he even laughs quietly at the small snores coming out of your mouth. Part of him wants to hold you; the part of him that still longed for human warmth and some kind of affection. Instead, he crosses his arms over his chest and closes his eyes.

You wake up to the first rays of the sun poking through the fabric of the tent, eager to go back to your comfortable bed after winning that bet. When you try to move to wake Frankie up, you realize you’re stuck. Strong arms were circling your waist, and you could feel the man’s warm breath on the back of your neck. You move slightly, even though you want to stay there. But Frankie kept pushing you away every time you tried to get closer to him, so surely, he didn’t really want to cuddle.

You escape his strong grasp and turn around to shake him.

“Frankie, come on, I won. Let’s go back inside.”

His eyes flutter open, and he groans at the sudden light of the day. He pulls the sleeping bag over his face.

“Great. Let me sleep.” He grumbles.

“Fine, let’s agree on a prize later.”

You crawl out of the tent, even though you want to stay in the cozy warmth of the tent.

#frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fan fiction #frankie morales fics #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fics #triple frontier #frankie friday #awootw

[sparklingyandere]

i’m in class rn and i’m so horny istg, what about a yandere scaramouche smut with a breeding kink, who degrades and spits bchebxjsbej tysm again

title: walk in the woods (gone sexual) NSFT

summary: scaramouche/fem reader. you have an unfortunate run in with some traveling fatui. 

warnings: expl!cit, dub/non con, degeneracy, degradation, power dynamics, violence, very submissive/weak reader

word count: 3.2k 

a/n: despite getting laid constantly, smut is not my strong suit </3

Leaves crunch under your feet, the cold wind stings your dry nostrils. 

The chill breeze wasn’t the best for exploring to most, but something about the bite in the air brought you comfort. You loved taking walks in the woods just before the sunset to bask in the autumn evening. 

The air was crisp and dry, you didn’t mind. The only sounds to be heard are birds and the woosh of the wind.

You paused to watch a squirrel scurry up a tree, and though you were still, you heard the crunching of leaves. Too heavy to be a bird or squirrel, you followed the sound slowly, treading lightly, weaving behind trees to stay out of sight.

You hoped to see a deer, maybe a herd, but when you peeked out from behind the tree, you saw men. In a makeshift camp, maybe four. Dangerous looking men that you didn’t plan to tussle with. You didn’t know this was that kind of woods. 

One of the men appears to be whittling a spoon or something, and if you couldn’t see the others, you’d figure they were just normal campers. But no, the others are armed head to toe in weaponry that looked state-of-the-art. One twirling a butterfly knife, another swinging at a punching bag fixed to a tree. 

You take a step back, and in the most horribly cliche, poorly-timed moment, you step on a thick twig. The four men instantly turn their attention to you at the sound of the snap. You stand frozen in shock, and for a moment, they do too. You just stare at each other.

One of the men, the tallest one, is the first to move. He takes one step towards you and you book it in the opposite direction, not sticking around to find out if he’s friendly. 

You run for a few seconds, as fast as you can, but you know it's not fast enough when a hand catches on your shirt and you trip to a sudden stop. 

“My, what have we here?” one of the men says, voice grating to your ears. You roll onto your back as the man crouches by your feet. He reaches into his coat and you suspect you see the glint of a weapon.

“No!” you wail, kicking him square in the jaw. You scramble to your feet as he recovers from the kick, him and his friends getting into offensive positions. You had a small dagger for emergencies, but you knew you couldn’t hold them all off with it. 

You had only a moment to come up with a plan, and boy was it a bad plan, but you didn’t have time to be picky. You kick the ground as hard as you can, flinging up a cloud of dirt and dry leaves, hopefully getting it in their eyes as well. In that brief moment that they were stunned, you bolted off, hopefully for good this time. 

Perhaps they decided chasing you wasn’t worth it, because when you looked behind you, they were long gone, despite probably being faster than you. You doubted your sand trick did anything but irritate them, but as long as they were off your trail, you didn’t care. You had to get home and never come to these woods again. 

You slow down to a walking pace. Your legs begin to burn as the adrenaline wears off, unused to that much exertion. You look around, and… don’t recognise what you see. You don’t exactly know the way out of this part of the woods, you realize, as you hadn’t been this far out before. Well, maybe because you had never been chased this far out. 

If you just pick a direction and go straight, eventually the woods will end, right? You keep your eyes peeled for any familiar stumps or logs. Nothing. Looking around every direction except in front of you, you don’t notice the man standing ahead until you just about bump into him. 

“Oh, excuse me,” you avert your eyes, attempting to go around him. He grabs your upper arm and you turn to face him, offended. 

“Now hold on a minute,” he says. You take in his appearance, that of an extravagantly-dressed gentleman who appeared to be of nobility, and adjust your posture, standing up straight. He certainly didn’t look like a local. He continues, “You wouldn’t happen to have seen a young troublemaker around here, have you?”

“Uh- what, sir?” you stumble out the words anxiously. Something about his tone gave you the impression that his question wasn’t genuine. 

“You know, someone who goes places they don’t belong. Kicks dirt at my soldiers. Someone like that?” 

Oh no. 

His eyes are narrowed unkindly, but he smiles upon seeing your frightened look.

“I don’t know anything about that, sir,” you say, keeping your voice as firm as possible. You suspect you must look like a deer caught in headlights right now, so you harden your expression and try to pull your arm out of his grip. He doesn’t relent, squeezing tighter, and leans in. 

He speaks, barely above a whisper. “I think you do.” 

Acting tough didn’t work. You knew it wouldn’t work, he was onto you from the very start. Your heart thumps so loud you think he might hear it. 

He looks around, still holding you tight as your mind gets the better of you. He had a rather slim build, but those guys at the camp sure didn’t… and if he was their boss, he had to be really strong, right? Was he going to finish you off right here, and he’s checking for witnesses? Was he-

He seems to finish scouting the area and turns back to you, squeezing your arm to get your attention. Not that he needed to, as you were hyper tuned-in to his every move, but whatever. 

“How well do you know these woods?” he asks. 

“Huh?” 

“People say I’m cruel, but I’m just trying to have a little fun. Always playing nice to make the Tsaritsa look good, stacks upon stacks of paperwork… It gets old. Can you blame me?” 

He looks at you expectantly, waiting for an answer, so you shake your head in response before he loses his patience. This seems to satisfy him enough. His warm fingers loosen, just slightly, and his grip doesn’t hurt anymore. 

“Good. See, I knew we’d get along,” he mocks, snickering. “I’ll tell you what, I rarely get to enjoy myself these days, so we’re going to play. I’m going to let you go, and if you can outrun me for, say, ten minutes, I'll go easy on you. I’ll even give you a head start.” He releases your arm and you stumble back. “Go.” he says, turning around. 

He doesn’t say how long the head start is for, nor what will happen when- no, if- he catches you. You wouldn’t go down easily to some crazy executive, or whatever he was. With that thought in mind, you run off. Your legs are still sore from the last time you had to run like this, maybe fifteen minutes ago- man, this has not been a good day for you- but now your heart is thumping with the fear that this time you are definitely being chased. You can’t shake this guy off like you did his goons. 

He must’ve known you had never been out here before, it was probably how he was able to find you so quickly. So just running out of the woods wouldn’t quite work. You would have to hide. And you had no idea how long you had to find a spot. 

Man. This was unfair. 

Some of the trees are thick, some of them are twig-thin. Some of them even look climbable. You have no way of knowing what direction he’ll be coming from, though, so now matter how thick it is, standing behind a tree is just too risky, and something tells you this man has too keen of an eye to get away with it anyways. 

You run for maybe a minute when you come up on a little stream with some bushes and a tipped log. It’s funny, the log creates a nearly perfect bridge across the stream. If you had been here any other day, you might have sat down here and basked in the sound of the running water. Today, though, you’re debating in your head if this spot is too obvious to hide in. 

Maybe not as obvious as behind a tree, but in a sea of woods that look nearly identical, a place like this stands out like a sore thumb. He’s bound to investigate. 

But do you have any better ideas? No. So you huff, and cross the log-bridge carefully, trying not to slip on the moss. It was hollow, you noticed, but that was definitely too easy. If you were on the other side of the creek, then you knew that he would have to cross the creek to reach you, and he could only come from that direction. That was one problem solved. 

You pick a bush some five yards away from the log and push apart the branches. Oh, god, you think as you squeeze your figure through the brush, this is disgusting. You close up the opening in the leaves with some foliage and squish your body in as tightly as you can. 

Though it’s far from comfortable, you’re technically sitting down for the first time in at least an hour. Your stomach churns painfully, maybe this is why they say not to eat before you exercise. 

You need a plan, you realize. He’d come here eventually. What then, what after? 

You were sure he wouldn’t be able to see you, so unless he was turning every rock and parting every bush, he probably wouldn’t find you. So you’d stay put until he passed through the area, wait a few minutes until the coast was absolutely clear, and then you’d get up and run. Yes, that would work. 

The brush tickles your skin, and you wish so terribly to scratch it, but you need to be absolutely still. Just in case. You endure. 

Your shallow, sharp breaths eventually return to a normal depth, and the terrible burn in your lungs recedes. You breathe deeply, slowly, quietly, and wait. 

Thunder rumbles far off in the distance. If you could see the sky, it would be partly cloudy, you wager. It might start raining in an hour or so. You hoped you’d be home by then, but for now you can only wait. 

Crunch

Crunch

Leaves crinkle just past the stream, the sound of two feet coming distinctly this way. You try to slow the beating in your chest with deep breaths. Had it been ten minutes? Probably not, but sitting here, alone, in the cold, every second felt like hours. 

There’s a few seconds of silence, and you hope to every higher power that he’s about to turn around. But you hear the creaking of wood and the hope crumbles into dust under his feet. 

Maybe it’s just a hiker. He draws closer, your heart throbs painfully, and he stops right next to the bush. 

There’s no way he can see you. You can’t see him through the leaves, so how would-

A hand shoots through the bramble and latches tightly onto your arm, yanking you out. The rough branches scratch and prick your skin. 

“You did it! You hid for ten whole minutes. Aren’t you proud?” the man mocks, indigo eyes shining smugly.

You did?

You open your mouth to reply, but all that comes out is a whine. He snickers, tugging your arm towards him. You try to step away from him on your unsteady feet, stepping on a loose rock, and your wobbly legs stumble and give out. 

You fall backwards, yanking your arm away from him, allowing yourself to land right into the stream. Sharp rocks poke your hands as the running water soaks through your clothes. 

He cackles, “Wow! You look like a kicked puppy.” 

You stand weakly, and take a tentative step away from him, but he quickly takes you by the wrist and pulls you back into the woods, cornering you against a tree. 

“But… you said-” 

He interrupts, “That I’d go easy on you?” a laugh, “I am. You have no idea what I’m capable of.” 

He leans in, uncomfortably close, intimately close, “What I could do, out here, alone in the woods…” He says into your ear, barely above a whisper. You blink back tears. 

He pulls away, voice returning to normal, “You’re lucky I’m in such a good mood today.” 

“Do you know who I am?” He asks. One of the hands that had been caging you against the tree retracted, and slid down to caress the back of your thigh. You shake your head, staring at him with wide eyes. He hooks his hand under your leg and lifts it up to his waist. You are too sore, too frightened, to put up a fight. “Scaramouche, of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers,” he announces arrogantly, eyes seeming to light up at his own name, “Few haven’t heard of me. You must be very sheltered, or just stupid.”

He pushes you tightly against the tree with his hips, lifting your other leg up to his waist as well, holding you completely up off the ground. You push your arms at his shoulders, hoping he will put you down, but he just grinds you harder into the tree. 

“You’ve done nothing but run and hide all day. Aren’t you tired? Don’t you want to give in?” His voice is a soft coo, but there’s a cruel bite to it as well. He was taunting you. You knew this, and yet, the sharp bark of the tree scratches you through your top and your legs throb with ache. It was too much, you couldn’t fight anymore. After this was all over, you could go home and draw a hot bath. 

He smiles when he sees the last spark of resistance leave your eyes. “Well?”

“Yes…” you muster. 

His wandering hands find their way under your skirt, lifting it past your thighs. “Easy access,” he teases. 

Your legs are wrapped tightly around him, fearful of being dropped. One of his hands works at the belt around his shorts, and while you are focused on that, you don’t notice the fingers of his other hand prod at your lips, shoving into your mouth and pressing on your tongue. 

Instinctively, you lick his fingers, and his eyes fog over sickeningly with lust. He retracts his wet fingers from your mouth and you flush from embarrassment, tearing your eyes away from his predatory gaze. He slips his hand between your bodies and into your underwear, eyeing you intently, soaking in as much of your shame as possible. You shiver as his fingers make contact with your slit, his fingers spreading your saliva and brushing against your clit teasingly. 

When he’s decided you’re sufficiently lubed, he removes his hand and frees his erection from his pants. You try not to look, turning your head away from him to look at the setting sun, but the closeness of your bodies makes it hard not to feel. Though the angle is a bit awkward, he manages to slip past your underwear and push his dick into your entrance. 

You can’t help but take in a thick gasp at his size, the protrusion snapping your gaze right back to his. He takes a second to slowly bottom out, and you feel his every inch stretching you. His hands are back under your legs, thin fingers squeezing the flesh of your ass, and he sighs blissfully when he’s fully sheathed in your heat. 

He pulls his cock halfway out and thrusts back in harshly, and though the movement is rough, an unwanted moan is ripped from your throat. It surprises even you, but the friction of his hips makes your head spin with bliss.

“Fuck- you were so easy,” he mocks between his own moans as he settles into a rhythm, “I should… take you home to the whorehouse.”

You whine in a feeble protest, his hips fucking you into the tree, scraping your back harder against the bark with each thrust. Your head lolls onto his shoulder, fingers clawing tightly at his sleeves as you try to get a grip on the pleasure. 

One of his hands leaves your ass and finds its way into your panties once again, two nimble fingers deftly finding your clit and rubbing circles into it, sending sweet bliss into your brain. You bite into the fabric on his shoulder in an attempt to muffle the wanton moans that escape you. 

It doesn’t really work. 

“Be quiet- huff- you want someone to find you that bad? Whore.” Scaramouche’s breathing is heavy with lust, but he still finds the air to ridicule you. 

He’s right, though, his touch shouldn’t send you over like this, especially since you were trying so hard to avoid him mere minutes ago. And yet, white-hot ecstasy pools in your gut, clouding your mind, and making it so hard to think any rational thought. 

He leans his head down into the crook of your neck, biting hard at the exposed skin. He sucks at the flesh of your neck like he needs it to live, his sharp teeth leaving deep marks that would be impossible to cover- and for some reason, that thought- along with the smooth rocking of his hips- sends you over the edge and you release a lustful cry into his shoulder, thighs tightening even harder around his waist. 

It spurs him on and his pace increases, pulling his hand from between your legs and pushing your face off of his shoulder. He grips your flushed cheeks tightly between his thumb and forefingers, holding intense eye contact with you. His eyes are unreadable beyond hunger. 

He stares at you silently for a few seconds, then his lips contort and you feel his hot, wet spit settle onto the center of your face, sliding down your cheeks. 

At the same time, he cums inside, his hips twitching slightly as he finishes fucking into you. 

He pulls out, dropping you, and you collapse onto the ground. 

Common sense finds its way back into your brain and you smooth out your skirt. 

He stares down at you while he fixes his belt, and you are quite a sight to behold, catching your breath, clothes rumpled, covered in a myriad of fluids- mostly his, which he was quite proud of- and struggling to wrap your head around what had just come over you. You looked truly pathetic, all because of him. How cute. 

You look up at him, still spit-and-cum-covered, and he can’t help but smile. 

“Aw, don’t look so down. You’ll see me again soon.” he says, smugly. He turns around and starts walking the direction he came, leaving you to sit on the leafy ground with your thoughts. 

A cold raindrop makes it through the treetops and lands on your skin. The storm had started.

#i feel like this has a pretty weak plot #but you arent here for the plot are u #this took me so long!! sorry!! #that said. its not beta read and long breaks between writing kinda fucked up the pacing #my bad #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche #yandere x female reader