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thyme-in-a-bubble · 5 months ago

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august

a summer in dunbrook, part three

a/n: and to close it all off, let them have a horny camping trip. it's what they deserve.

summary: once you’d reached your spot, set up the tent and the stars were all twinkling in the sky, you and Frank savoured the mild summer evening sitting by the campfire where your fluffy ball of fur had also found a comfortable corner.

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, sequel to lilac, smut, lumberjack AU, camping, roasting marshmallows, kissing, size kink, dirty talk, oral, manhandling, hair pulling, impact play, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (because this is just porn. no one is getting pregnant, I’m just craving the intimacy. let them be hoes and live out the fantasy)

word count: 3121

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“All I’m saying is that maybe we wait just one more day before we go home,” Frank said as he slammed the car door shut behind him.

Readjusting your grip on Enzo’s leash, you blinked up at Frank as he tugged on the big backpack stuffed with supplies.

“One more day?” you cocked a brow, “you just feel like camping one day more than we planned? Making the trip just that little bit longer so that you–, oh yeah, so that you miss the summer barbeque that you’ve been acting like a toddler about.”

“I haven’t been–,” he scoffed, though swiftly dropped it with a heavy huff, “look, is it really that bad that I’d rather spend my time with you and Enzo than sit through hours of small talk?” he pleaded as you began to tread away from the parked vehicle, through the wilderness you’d arrived at.

“No, but I don’t wanna miss it,” you said. Letting out a sigh, you took a step closer to him and caught his wide palm, “look, you don’t have to come along if it’s really that terrible,” your fingers offered his a squeeze to underline your statement, “I love you, I’m not gonna force you.”

Glancing over at you, he caught your eye and offered you the faintest of smiles, “thank you.”

“But,” you stretched out the vowel as if you were blowing a piece of bubble gum, “I’m just saying that you might regret it, you might miss some really fun shenanigans.”

“Yeah,” he huffed in response, “I bet.”

“Hey, I know he didn’t last year, but I’m crossing my fingers that this year, Otto gets super drunk on Donna’s punch again and starts thinking he’s a drag queen. I know he’s the sheriff, but he can really get put on a good show when the mood strikes and he thinks he’s twenty again.”

Once you’d reached your spot, set up the tent and the stars were all twinkling in the sky, you and Frank savoured the mild summer evening sitting by the campfire where your fluffy ball of fur had also found a comfortable corner.

“Oh,” you then suddenly stirred from your trance-like state, ripping your stare away from the flames, “I almost forgot!”

Scrambling off the stout log you’d used to sit on, you ripped open the flap of the tent directly behind you and crawled inside.

Glancing over his shoulder, half with an amused grin and half checking out your ass, Frank watched as you tore open the backpack and fished out an item.

Hiding it behind your spine, you didn’t reveal it before you’d returned to your seat.

“Tada!” you presented your contribution to the camping trip.

“Marshmallows,” Frank couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

“You have to! You simply have to,” you declared as you ripped the plastic open.

As you let yourself munch on one straight out of the bag, you watched as Frank picked up a few suitable twigs from the forest floor below, fished a swiss army knife out of his pocket and prepped them into the perfect utensils for the job.

The art of roasting marshmallows was something you’d perfected as a child. Getting them just right so that their outer shell got completely caramelised and golden brown, while the entire innards were rendered a sweet gooey mess.

That fine skill was sadly not something Frank possessed, or perhaps cared about as deeply as you did. It nearly shocked you to horrors to watch him burn the little candy till it looked like a lump of coal, only to eat it without a care in the world as if it hadn’t been utterly ruined.

So in order to prove to him just how wrong he was in his indifference, just how good they could be when done just right, you roasted him one to the utmost perfection.

“Alright,” you uttered when you retracted the stick from the flames. Carefully pulling it off the widdled twig, you held it out for him, though noted just before he enclosed his mouth around it, “careful, it’s hot.”

As you studied his expression for traces of your victory, you popped your sticky fingers in your mouth, licking them clean one by one.

Frank however also seemed to gaze back at you, though the heated stare that traced your innocent digits flew completely over your head as that wasn’t what you so intently were searching for.

“So?” you impatiently poked in between cleaning the sugar off of your skin, “how is it?”

Swallowing the treat, he then hummed, “yeah, it’s good,” his eyes still glued to you.

“Just good?” you cocked your head, “not amazing, incredible, your life will never be the same?” you listed off and then finally noticed just how intense his stare was, “what?” your voice seemed to shrink as you dropped the jest, “do I have some on my face?”

“No…” he shook his head lightly as one of your palms shot up to wipe the corner of your mouth.

“Then what is it? Why are you staring at me like that?”

“I just love you, is all,” he breathed, “you’re very cute,” his soft smirk grew wider as he then added, “especially when you don’t realise the dirty things you do.”

A giggle then erupted from your lungs, “what did I do?” and continued to bubble out of you even as he began to lean in, “what?”

But instead of filling you in, he simply pressed his lips to yours.

It was soft at first, peppering you with pecks as your laughter slowly faded away. But then when your chuckling had come to a close and no longer vibrated against his lips, he let go of his gentleness and gave in to the desire that was about to burst.

Slipping his tongue past your lips, a low groan flowed from him and melted against yours as they danced against one another. His broad palm only stayed on your cheek a moment longer before it soared down your frame, his other hand too joining in the exploration of your curves.

You nearly couldn’t keep track of his touch as it wandered wildly, grabbing at every place that made you all tingly inside. Though, at one point when you thought you might fall off your makeshift seat, you actually did, or rather, Frank’s grasp slid down to your bottom and scooped you closer, so close in fact that you now found yourself half kneeling on the forest floor, between his thick thighs where he remained seated, and arching up to keep your lips still attached.

As one of his hands reconnected with your heated cheek, he withdrew ever so slightly as a groan left his throat, “god, I wanna fuck you…”

The gravel in his tone shot straight down between your legs and made you whimper, “please.”

After he seized your lips once more, the hand on the side of your face slid further up and disappeared into your hair. When his fist soon enclosed around the roots of your locks at the nape of your neck, a purr poured out of you, one he briefly paused the kiss to relish hearing.

His other palm still grazed over your clothing, petting you so passionately that you expected on bated breath for him to rip your attire off.

But he didn’t.

Instead, right when he pinched your nipple through your shirt, his fingers didn’t move to pop open the row of buttons.

Pulling back from the heated kiss, he maintained your face so close to his that his prominent nose pressed against your cheek.

“Take this off,” he commanded in a gravelly tone, faintly gesturing to your shirt before his hand floated up to join his other if your hair.

As you scrambled to do so, hazy with lust, you tried to tilt your chin to capture his lips, but the grip he had on you caused each of your attempts to fail as he denied you another taste.

Once your button-up tumbled to the ground, he rose to his feet, lifting you with him, before one of his hands briefly let go to gesture to the shorts that hung from your hips, “these as well.”

It wasn’t till they too fell to the dirt that Frank finally kissed you again, or to be more accurate, nearly devoured you.

Your fingers tangled in his flannel for purchase as he scooped your body even closer to his. When you felt the palpable tent in his pants press up against your stomach, your right hand had a mind of its own and slid down to graze and teasingly rub him through his clothing.

“Fuck…” he grunted, swiftly leaning into your touch.

When his feet began to move, yours blindly began to shuffle as well. Each time you encountered even a tiny twig or something to make you slightly lose your balance, your grip tightened in his shirt and his hold on you swiftly shifted and clutched your waist, just so that in case you actually did stumble, he would be ready to sweep you off your feet.

The flap to the tent was already open from when you grabbed the marshmallows, so nothing was there to hinder you when Frank pushed you inside.

As both of you sank down to your knees on the sprawled-out sleeping bags, you began to tear at his clothes, an action that he didn’t protest in the slightest, only brought a hand back up to tangle itself in your locks. With the tent still open to the great outdoors, the crackling light from the campfire streamed in and illuminated both your forms. The warm glow licked across Frank’s skin as you revealed more and more of it.

When you began to tuck at the last remaining item covering him up, you barely managed to hook a finger in his boxers before Frank’s body moved, laying down and bringing you with him. Chest pressed down against his, he manoeuvred your legs to be at either side of his hips.

Capturing his lips in a kiss, you both sucked in a slow breath through your noses. As his palms slid up from the curve of your ass and over your waist, the pent-up tempo that had formed outside seemed to relax, your sloppy makeout morphing into soft and yearning pecks.

His scruff tickled your palms as you clutched his jaw and withdrew just enough for you to catch your breath. Your nose nuzzled gently against his as you then begged in a foggy whisper, “can I please suck your cock?”

Huffing out a smile, he found your eyes, “you wanna suck my cock?”

“Please.”

“Oh yeah? Well then go right ahead since you want it so badly.”

Mirroring his grin, you leaned in to press your lips to his one last time, “thank you,” before you slowly began to crawl further down.

Holding his gaze as he propped himself up onto his elbows, you dipped down to plant a few kisses across his stomach before your nose nuzzled against the waistband of his underwear. When you were slotted between his parted legs, resting on your belly with your feet kicked up, his thumbs dipped into his boxers and pulled them off before you had the chance.

His length sprung free of its binds, throbbing under your gaze and glistening with precum. Your eyes flickered up to meet his as you wrapped your fingers around his girth and a sharp intake of air filled Frank’s lungs.

You only really had to tilt your head and stick out your tongue in order for it to glide across the bulbous head, as you already were at eye level. Glancing up to catch his gaze, you teasingly tapped the tip of him against your tongue, the corners of your mouth tipping upwards at his reaction. Dipping your head, you planted sloppy pecks down the side of him and when you came back up, you let your saliva dribble down his hardness, your fist swiftly swooping up to lavish its strokes.

When your lips finally enclosed around his girth, a deep rumble vibrated in his burly chest as he watched your slow movements intently, “fuck, I love you…” and his hand came down to stroke the side of your features as you silkily began to bob, “just like that, baby, yes,” drool gradually began to drip down as your lips stretched around his fat girth. When you then momentarily came up for air, Frank tilted his chin and said, “don’t forget the nuts, sweetheart,” and you swiftly bowed down to sloppily make out with his heavy sack, “give them some love as well.”

Then, just as you were about to return your attention to his painfully hard length, he manoeuvred your head for you and only relished in a few seconds of your butterfly-like pace before his hips twisted beneath you and bucked up into your efforts, fucking your little mouth till his cock plunged all the way down your throat. Spit bubbled up at the corners of your lips as his fingers curled around to hold your head in place just a moment longer, letting him fuck your throat till tears began to spew forth. You knew by the sensation that if you’d been lying on your back, the imprint of his cock would have been clear as day in the column of your throat, a familiar bulge that Frank would often let his fingers trace if he caught sight of it.

Strings of slobber spiderwebbed from your swollen and gasping lips as he finally plucked you off of him. Sitting up more, he brought his face further down and pressed his mouth to yours, smothering the smile that appeared on your features as soon as you got up for air.

As he impatiently ripped your bra off and you reached down to pull off your panties, they clung to your weepy cunt. Not being able to resist, yourself, you reached down and swept your fingers through your folds, your eyebrows crinkling up at the discovery of just how wet you’d gotten.

Picking you up, Frank placed you back in his lap before his kisses faded and he layed back down. Raising yourself further up on your knees to hover above him, he grabbed a hold of the base of himself and briefly dragged the tip of him through your petals, flicking your clit before he brought a broad palm to your hip and helped you sink down.

“Fucking hell…” you flutteringly cursed as you braced a hand on his chest, “oh, F-Frank…”

Your thighs trembled slightly on either side of him as you slowly eased your way down, the stretch of his fat cock proving just staggering as ever.

As you gently began to roll your hips and find a calm pace that let you feel each and every single detail of him, your eyes fluttered shut as he stretched you out. Repeatedly raising your hips up till just the essence of him remained, you’d then sink back down, each time your slow pace nearly caused your pussy to clench and shrink back entirely so that it felt as if he’d have to split you open all over again.

But just as you began to lose yourself to the heavenly sensation and let yourself slam back down with more ferocity, Frank’s cock slipped out of your creamy cunt completely.

A whimper swiftly escaped you as your eyes blinked back open, but the man below you didn’t seem to move a muscle as he just uttered, “put it back in, baby,” which you swiftly reached down to do, moaning loudly as he slipped back into your warmth. His strong fingers dented the curve of your ass as you fulfilled his command, “there you go, good girl,” then swatted his wide palm against your backside to kickstart you back into action.

Panting as you bounced like a little bunny, your hands crept up to squeeze your tits, pinching the nipples harshly as the melody of your efforts filled the tent.

“That’s it, ride it,” he growled, offering your ass a few more slaps, “ride that fucking dick.”

Both of his hands then grabbed a hold of your bottom and surely bruised it as he aided your movements, though it didn’t take very long at all for him to take over completely and move your body atop of him, leaving you to just relax into his hold and sink deeper into the breathtaking sensation.

As he bounced you on his cock, he managed to nestle you down even further and grind his dick impossibly deep within you.

Your head lulled back a bit as he rocked your form. Then, as you felt goosebumps tingle across your flesh and the intoxicating end near, you stopped fighting the urge and let your upper body crumble down against his.

Fingers curling uselessly against his skin, you almost attempted to bury your face in his chest, right below his right shoulder.

“Fucking hell,” your eyes rolled as you began to drool on his pec.

Rolling his hips beneath you, he started to buck up into your weepy cunt before his palm landed a few tingling blows across your bottom.

When your pussy finally clambered down around him, you nearly bit him as your features tensed up in a silent scream. His own demise soon arrived as well, especially as you throbbed and squeezed down around him so tightly that he nearly couldn’t move at all, just throw in the towel and let your cunt milk him dry.

You almost fell asleep, laying there on his chest as it slowly rose and fell like a calm tide, Frank even assumed that you had until the moment that you murmured, “I’m so happy that you didn’t just keep driving…”

“Uh…” his warm fingers drew slow patterns along your spine as he attempted to catch up, “when are you talking about?”

Faintly, you heard the tent rustle as Enzo sleepily stepped inside and plopped himself down on your tangled feet.

“That you stopped back then on that day when my car broke down,” you uttered as your emotions began to fog up your voice, “thank you for stopping. If not, then we probably wouldn’t have ever met… god… I love you so much. I don’t even know how to–…” a heavy sigh flowed from you before you tilted your head and blinked up into his coffee eyes, tears glinting in your own, “I love you.”

With a molasses-like expression softening up his features, his fingers then tugged a strand of your hair out of your forehead before he replied, “I love you too, Y/n.”

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equalheart · 1 year ago

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enhypen when you get stood up / rejected / dumped

comedic fluff! enhypen!member x reader w: sad-ish? content. y/n is kinda “cheating” since they kiss someone RIGHT after breaking up… ©equalheart REPOST FROM HYKAI ⋆ ࣪. ୧ ♡ ୨ ִ ۫ ⁎ . i really wanted to write something like this, to avoid repetitiveness i added 3 different scenerios. sorry if this is confusing!

양정원 (YANG JUNGWON) — Stood Up

You were walking along in a park by the place your date was supposed to be. You felt like crying. After talking to this guy for a few weeks, you’d expect him to show up, right? What a waste of time. You’re walking peacefully when a dog runs straight at you and starts sniffing your feet. An owner quickly runs towards you. “Maeumi!” he quickly scoops the dog up into his arms. “I’m so sorry! I let her off her leash for one second and she—” he looks up, “Y/n?”

You realise who you’re talking to. It’s Yang Jungwon from your extended-maths class. “Oh, hi!” you try to cheer up. “Is this your dog?” he smiled while looking at Maeumi, who quickly gave a lick to his face. “Her name is Maeumi, do you wanna pet her?” you don’t decline, letting the fluffy dog run straight to your arms, licking your face as well. “I heard you were busy today.” randomly, it comes out of him, and you deeply sigh. “Yeah, I was supposed to go on a date. But the guy didn’t even show up.” Jungwon also lets out a deep sigh. He doesn’t know if he should feel angry for you, sad for you, or if he’s allowed to feel anything for you. But he feels relieved. “I’m happy he didn’t show up. Now you’re here with me.” He grins at you, Maeumi in his lap.

"Why is that? Do you like me or something?" You laugh until noticing he's gone silent. when you look back up at him, he bites down on his lower lip while looking down; like a sad puppy. "Wait, you like me?" He blushes and nods his head 'yes.' "Well, there's no doubt you're better than the guy who ditched me today. should we go on a date right now?" His eyes shoot up. "You like me too?" you giggle at his reaction. "Let's just say, I'm interested." "Then.. Let's consider this a date." He smiles at you and lets go of Maeumi, while she runs around you in circles. "First I'll have to drop her off at home." He giggles.

이희승 (LEE HEESEUNG) — Rejected

“Hah, why would I date you?” you’re on campus of your university, and your year long crush has just... rejected you? He’s been flirting with you, so it’s not surprising that this will be an extra shock to you. “I—” you stare at him, at a loss for words. “Y/n, nobody would like someone like you” you feel glossy eyes and also enraged. How could he say this after mentioning that his parents would love you? Even when you weren’t dating. A waste of time. Suddenly, you feel an arm around your shoulder. “I like them.” you turn around to see Lee Heeseung. You’ve talked to him about some lectures in groups, but nothing more than that—so what’s he saying? “I like Y/n. If you’re just gonna toy with them, leave them alone.” he raises an eyebrow and you watch your crush, or, well, ex-crush scoff and walk away, cussing at the ground.

Heeseung’s arm falls off your shoulder immediately. “I’m sorry for touching you, are you alright?” you tear up and he pats you back. “Shhh, he’s just a jerk, okay? Forget him.” your vision is foggy as you look at him. “Why’d you help me?” he looks at you blankly for a second, like a deer struck by headlights. “Didn’t you hear me? I said "I like you.”

박종성 (PARK JONGSEONG) — Dumped

You call Jay on the phone, crying rather loudly. "Y/n? What's wrong?" He sounds alert. "I got dumped." You say between sniffles. Those words cause Jay to hang up on you. What the hell? What a jerk, you thought. - An hour passes and you've been watching a kdrama while crying your eyes out. There's a sudden knock at your door, and you open it to see Jay. You shut the door immediately. "Leave." You state as he jiggles the doorknob. "Y/n, wait. I'm sorry it took me so long there was traffic, and you know the ice cream place is far from my house!" Confusion takes over you as you slowly unlock and open the door. He continues: "Here, I got you all your favourite things. Do you want me to stay, or should I go..?" You take two white plastic bags from his hands. "You jerk. You suck." Now he's confused. "Should I??" he pointed to the street, more directly to his car. "How dare you hang up on me! Do you know how upset I was?" You pull him into the house, not noticing how he tripped over your shoe and stumbled forward, pushing himself to the nearest wall, with you in front of him. "O-Oh, i'm sorry—I was just trying to get here as fast as possible.” You can feel his hot breath fanning against your neck as he talks. "It's okay! It’s fine, don't worry." you blush and walk away, sitting back on the couch, now with your snacks. Jay stayed there, pinning air against the wall as he covered his mouth with his other hand. Shit. He was blushing like crazy.

심재윤 (SIM JAEYUN) — Dumped

You're at Jake's house. in his room, sobbing on his gaming chair. "And then he just said it's over." You completed your story, not without at least one billion sniffles along the way. You knew you could rely on Jake, your best friend since almost forever, to comfort you. "Yeah? I'm sorry, Y/n. You deserved better." Your eyes sparkle in admiration and your eyes flashback distant memories from when you had a crush on Jake. Your heart aches. He was so perfect, but you were both young, and you didn't wanna risk losing him. "Jake.. Could I hug you?" He blanks out for a second before responding. "Of course! Sure! Just don't get any snot on me." Your face turns red in embarrassment and he notices. "Kidding, obviously!" He hugs you and you hold him tight.

After a few seconds, Jake tries to pull away, but you pull him tighter—maybe just a little too tight. From pulling Jake, his body weight was on you now and his gaming chair could not handle that; it toppled over. You were laying down on the chair, which was now flipped on its back (so you were still technically on it) when you realised Jake was on top of you. Woah. You both made eye contact for a split second before he got off. "Oh my gosh, Y/n, i'm sorry!" His cheeks are pink from prior. You just giggle. "No, seriously it's fine. It was my fault anyway." He looks at you, slowly speaking up. "In that case.. Wanna do it again?"

박성훈 (PARK SUNGHOON) — Rejected

It was embarrassing, getting rejected. And you needed someone to talk to. You went to your first and only resort, your best friend, Park Sunghoon. Something about the sparkle in your eyes while talking about him made Sunghoon uncomfortable. Did you like him that much? Come on. You barely knew him. Sunghoon decides not to speak on his thoughts and listen to what you have to say instead. He was always a good listener anyway. But when you get to a point talking about stuff you “did wrong”, he can’t hold back any longer. “Y/n.” his sharp voice catches you off guard, and your eyes avert to him. “You did nothing wrong, okay? Just because you thought he liked you doesn’t mean you were wrong. He totally led you on and played with your feelings.” You feel tears wither up into your eyes and you clasp onto Sunghoon’s waist. It takes him by surprise, but he wraps his arms around yours. “Thank you, Hoon.”

김선우 (KIM SEONWOO) — Stood up

Sunoo could not believe what he was hearing. How could someone as pretty, kind, and sweet as you get stood up? I mean, the guy promised he'd show up. What a jerk. Sunoo stayed by your side as you ranted about how long you took getting ready, and how nervous you were. At first, you were a little upset, but then you were just irritated. You got all dressed up and ready for absolutely nothing. What a waste of time. Sunoo, unlike you, was furious. He asked (begged) for the guy's number so he could meet him, but you declined. Being petty wouldn't get you back time. "I give up on dating people." you sigh, and Sunoo panics. "You can't give up! There's still someone out there waiting for you!'' His sudden defensiveness leaves you confused. "And who would that be." you roll your eyes, sipping the water he brought for you earlier. "…. Me."

西村力 (NISHIMURA RIKI) — Rejected

Before you even came up to Ni-ki, he could sense something was wrong—His spidey senses were tingling. He saw the small tear droplets formed in your eyes and sighs, pushing a stand of hair out of your face. His eyebrows were furrowed while he studied your sad features. "I thought you said you were absolutely confident he liked you back?" You sniffle a bit and he can't help but chuckle. "Idiot." He whispers under his breath. Ni-ki's face holds a soft smile, his eyes holding oceans of stars. "Hey!" You punch him and he lets out a fake cry. "Maybe he changed his mind." You huff at him.

Not a great situation for jokes, but Ni-ki always managed to make you laugh. "You should've stayed with me.." He pats your head, still making eye contact even if he's towering over you. "You know I'd treat you better." Your heart flutters. How could it not? But it was for your friend. Was this wrong? You give him a confused expression, still at a loss of words from his actions. "Y/n, you don't know? You really don't know?" His blank expression still confused you, and a slow, soft smile appeared in his mouth. He bends down to your level, and your eyes widen. He's.. super attractive. How couldn't you notice him before? "I like you."

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen x y/n #enhypen x reader #enhypen headcanons #enhypen reactions #heeseung x reader #jay x reader #jake x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunoo x reader #jungwon x reader #ni ki x reader #riki x reader #enhypen fluff

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transformersandturtles · 2 months ago

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Couldn't find any of this SO I WROTE MY OWN FOR A ONE SHOT‼️ I will write more but I thought this would be good for now‼️ I'm really sorry if this seems out of character for either of them, I've never written anything for them before. 🥲

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CW - Swearing, reference to explicit content, possible spelling errors (non reviewed)

Word Count - 2,017 words (10,995 characters)

𝑳𝒆𝒕'𝒔 𝑮𝒐 𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈!

"Wade, is there anything you need from the store?" The gruff voice of Logan Howlett grumbled from the kitchen table, reading glasses resting on his nose as he held a small notepad and pen. He'd asked Al earlier if she needed anything, that wasn't illegal substances he had no way of getting his hands on, so now it was just a matter of asking his partner, who had just gotten back from walking Mary Puppins. He tapped the closed pen on the wooden surface, peering over the ridge of the glasses Laura made him wear. Who knew it was easier to read with glasses? He'd have to get something to thank her next time she came by.

"Oh! You're going shopping! Ooh, let's see!" Wade had quite the grin on his expression, taking off the harness and leash from the ever loving Dogpool, who he totally didn't get the owner of murdered so he could take her, and he picked her up, letting her lick his face as she was coddled like a baby in his arms. "We need more dog food," he spoke as he waltzed over to Logan, his hood falling down as he did so, "and more milk. Maybe some more eggs, and a pack of XL-" before he could finish, he felt something sharp poke at his throat.

"All that's on the list, except that last one. YOU can get that on your own time." The old Canadian scoffed a bit, not exactly in the mood to entertain Wade's thoughts. But he couldn't hold back a small grin when the other Canadian whined at the threat.

"Whaaaaaat? But Honey Badger, I can't go alone. They'd look at me weird." He protested, trying to be dramatic all for the sake of being dramatic.

"Uh huh, sure bub. . ." Logan put his claws away, grabbing the napkin off the table by his empty plate to wipe the blood away as the spot between his knuckles healed quickly. "So, there's milk, eggs, toilet paper, new beddings, steak, vegetables, beer. . ." He mumbled, setting the notepad down to write a few more things that came to mind. Wade set down Mary Puppins and he leaned over Logan's shoulder to figure out what other things were added. Toothpaste, mouthwash. . .

"Oh absolutely not." Wade reached for the pen to scratch out the body spray. "No way in HELL are you gonna buy Axe. Are you TRYING to smell like a skunk? Your musk is enough to make a room full of E-Sports players sick!"

". . . The fuck is E-Sports?" Logan wasn't sure if he should be insulted, confused, or both. But he wasn't too happy about the comment either way. "Also what the fuck is wrong with Axe? It's cheap and smells fine." He scoffed a bit. "I'm not trying to spend over $100 to smell good." He took off the metal framed glasses and placed them on the collar of his T-shirt under the teal-blue flannel.

"And I'm not saying you need to spend $100 to smell good, I for one think you smell amazing. Gets the body goin'. . ." Wade gave a cheeky grin with a chuckle, looking Logan up and down for a moment before looking back at the list. "But Axe is the worst one to use. If you want something to smell decent for work, I'd recommend Old Spice at the very least. Sure, the smell names are weird as fuck, but that comes with all male hygiene products. Women get all the sweet and nice sounding scents like peach vanilla or sunset cinnamon. . . Meanwhile we get stuff like Pine Jizz or Whales Fucking or-"

"Shut the fuck up, Wade. . . . Just shut up. . ." Logan let out a groan of annoyance, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment. Wade had a grin on his face, laughing a little at how Logan told him to stop talking.

"I'm just saying, Peanut, if you get Axe then you're sleeping on the couch or out in the hallway." Wade warned, before leaning in to kiss Logan on the cheek. "I'll go get ready." He hummed, and left to the bedroom to change out of his sweatpants and hoodie.

"Yeah, yeah. . ." Logan mumbled in annoyance, putting his hand to his cheek to hide the light blush across his face. He huffed and stood up, stretching as his joints popped and cracked, from his lower back to his legs and neck. He popped his jaw a bit, before going to the coat rack to grab his brown leather jacket he got for a fairly good price last week. It was nice, not too tight but not too lose, and had some decent pockets. Perfect for carrying booze. . . Or other stuff he didn't want to pay for, maybe. He was THE Wolverine, and taxes were too expensive sometimes. Who was gonna throw him in jail if he shoplifted? No one, that's who. He adjusted the collar of the leather jacket, getting it how he wanted before stopping when he heard the bedroom door open. He looked at Wade, and stared at him almost dumbfounded. "You are NOT going out like that. . ."

"Why not, Peanut? You always like it when I dress this way." Wade teased, he wasn't serious about wearing the outfit in public, but he wanted a good reaction out of Logan. Besides, the outfit was pretty comfortable but no way in hell was he having enough confidence to show off his unicorn crop top and short-shorts. He didn't mind wearing it when he was having his great days; where he was overly confident and eager to show off his body despite the scarring. But today wasn't one of those days, especially since it was getting cooler as Autumn was coming in after what felt like eons of Summer. Wade did notice how Logan's complexion had turned a few shades of a deep red while looking, which also made Wade's cheeks turn a soft pink.

"Alright, alright, hurry up then. . ." Logan sighed softly, not even making a comment or retort to what was said because Wade was right. Logan crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for Wade but was surprised when the bedroom door closed again and he frowned. Did he say the wrong thing? Did he upset Wade? The mutant stood quietly but worriedly, his nose twitching a bit as he sniffed the air, trying to figure out if Wade was upset or not. It was hard to tell, so he stepped closer to the door. There didn't seem to be any low serotonin levels, they seemed about as normal as they could be for Wade. His nose continued twitching as he kept sniffing past the door, still trying to figure out if he upset his boyfriend or not, his ears twitching a little as well as he listened carefully. Before he could figure it out past the smell of everything else on the other side of the door, he was met once again with the face of Wade who seemed surprised at how close Logan was to the door. But that surprise soon turned to playful, mischievous grin.

"Aww, was someone worried about me?" He teased, wrapping an arm around Logan and leaning in to rub his nose against Logan's cheek. The gruff man scoffed with a growl, not out of hostility but annoyance, as he bit Wade's cheek with his big canines.

"Like hell I'd worry about you, dumbass. . ." Logan grumbled, moving away from Wade but didn't move too far so they could at least hold hands. "Let's go. . ." He sighed heavily, taking Wade's hand and going to the door to get their shoes on as Logan grabbed the keys to the apartment and put them in the pocket of his leather jacket with the notepad.

At the store, Logan had to keep holding Wade's hand so the younger wouldn't run off, who knows what that undiagnosed dork would go find and beg to have. Logan had his glasses back on as he looked down at the list in his hand. He had a specific order to get everything in, and if he had to deviate from that plan he might just lose it. Wade was very aware of his boyfriend's thoughts and methods, and honestly he didn't mind holding hands and walking with Logan, though he did stop a few times to look at something that caught his attention.

"We really gotta get you an appointment. . ." Logan mumbled as he gently tugged Wade along so they could keep shopping to get everything on the list. He headed over to the produce section, his hazel eyes gazing over the different fruits and veggies, letting go of Wade's hand for just a moment so he could find the perfect vegetables to cook for dinner. He'd started learning how to cook lately and had a nice dinner planned, so he made sure that the ingredients would be edible and not rotten inside or anything of the sort. He grabbed some potatoes, a few peppers, and for something sweet as a snack for later he grabbed some apples, a grapefruit, and a cantaloupe though it was slowly coming out of season and probably wouldn't taste as good as it does in the summer but he didn't care. He goes to check the ingredients off the list and turns to hold Wade's hand again, only to find the other Canadian had vanished. "Great. . ." Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath before grabbing the shopping cart and continued with his shopping, knowing he'd find Wade eventually, tracking his scent wasn't that difficult due to the constantly dying and regenerating cells, along with the citrus-pine smell he had. His ears and nose twitched every so often as he leaned his elbows against the cart to push it, walking around and glancing around as he got cheese, milk, eggs, and some other things in the aisle, a gruff and raspy hum vibrating in his chest as he tapped his sharp nails against the metal bar of the cart while listening to the music playing through the store. It was crappy compared to what he liked, some hit pop song the youth enjoyed, but damnit was it catchy in the kind of way that it was really annoying but kinda good. He whistled a little, getting everything on the shopping list and went to the aisle full of booze before an announcement rang over the store's system.

"Logan Howlett, please come to the front. Your child is waiting." A bored teen girl sounded over, the tone of her voice a mix of boredom, with a hint that screamed she did not get paid enough to watch over someone or help. Logan raised a brow at this, confused. Laura wasn't here, was she? But then it clicked, and he groaned slightly with some annoyance. He grabbed two packs of the good beer and headed to the front, finding Wade near a desk who seemed happy and relieved once Logan arrived.

"Honey Badger! I was so worried you left without me!" Wade nearly tackled the older man the moment he could, and Logan grunted, a bit startled.

"You're the one who ran off, idiot. . ." Logan scoffed, glaring at Wade before looking down at the soft thing between them. "Wade. . . What the hell is that?" He frowned. Wade looked down, and a big grin was plastered on his face.

"Pompompurin! He'd be great to sit with Hello Kitty and Cinnamoroll!" He beamed, excited even as he held the large dog plush. Logan wanted to say no, to make him put it back, because who knows how much money that thing cost, but the longer he saw those big eyes, Logan eventually let out a groan of defeat.

"Fine. . . But you're payin' for it, bub. . ." Logan patted Wade on the shoulder, before taking him and the cart to the self checkout aisle so he could scan everything himself. Logan didn't like strangers touching stuff sometimes.

"Fine by me!" Wade grinned, watching Logan scan everything and he snorted a bit, amused by his odd yet loving boyfriend.

#seven’s nonsense #seven's drabbles #deadpool and wolverine #poolverine #deadclaws #poolverine fanfiction #deadpool #wolverine #logan howlett wolverine #wade wilson deadpool #dogpool mention #xmen #deadpool 3 #d&w #Deadpool & Wolverine #deadclaws fanfiction

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lexithwrites · 5 months ago

Note

bartylily nsfw..? 🤭

nsfw below of course (minor TW for this, other than smut there is some pain kink stuff going on, nothing major just slapping, scratching and hair pulling, as well as degradation)

If you asked one of her closest friends, Lily Evans would be described as someone with ambition. A motherly figure. Someone who wanted her friends and loved ones to succeed. That she was headstrong, smart, fierce and loyal. But above all else, they'd tell you that she had extremely high standards when it came to men and relationships.

She wasn't going to settle, she refused. She had dealt with a handful of men in her dating history that never took her seriously, didn't treat her how she expected to be treated, nor did they ever, ever care about her needs. They were selfish. They assumed that because she was a woman she'd want to kneel at their feet and obey. No, Lily Evans wasn't a dog they could teach to sit or fetch.

She'd much prefer to be the one holding the leash.

Which is why it was her shoving Barty Crouch up against the brick wall and putting her hand in his jeans, not the other way around. Barty wouldn't manhandle her like that, but getting manhandled? Sure. Any day of the week. Lily pushed herself up on her toes and kissed him something fierce; she wanted him to feel her touch and taste burn into his skin. She wanted him to remember her in the morning.

"Fuck, Evans...you that horny for me?" He choked out, still managing that cocky smile as she cupped him over his boxers and squeezed.

"You know how this goes, Barty." She panted, shivering when his wandering hands found her ass and kneaded it. "We don't need to talk to each other."

"Thought you liked my mouth?" He moaned, rocking his hips forward when she started to stroke his half-hard cock, the tip already leaking pre-cum.

"I like my mouth when it's being put to good use." Lily reminded him, reaching up with her free hand to press two fingers against Barty's tongue, forcing it to come out like a dog panting. He let her do it, he'd always let her. Barty grinned, starting to drool over himself. "You're so dirty, you know."

He nodded, dumbly. His brain was starting to switch off at having his mouth forced open and his cock touched, and he didn't care about anything else in the world but her right now. She was too good at this, actually. The whole...sexy, red-haired dominatrix thing. It was exactly his type and he was a complete loser when she was around, but he liked it. Loved it, even. He wanted to be a good boy for Lily, that's all.

"You want me to get you off here? In this alley? Our friends are inside and they think we're out here smoking. Any of them could come looking, Barty." She whispered, leaning close to his ear as she manoeuvred her hand into his boxers to touch him properly. He whimpered, more drool running down his chin. "What do you want?"

"To get off." He said, although it wasn't that coherent with fingers in his mouth. Lily smiled and started trailing kisses up his neck. She was trying to kill him, he realised in the haze. She's actually trying to kill him right now. Cold blooded murder. But it still felt so good.

"I can get you off, love." She cooed. "Are you going to be a good boy and keep quiet for me?" Barty nodded again and she nipped at his neck. "Good." Her hand moved faster, gripping him and twisting her wrist on the upstroke around the head. Barty's thighs trembled and his eyes rolled back into his head. How this woman could make him feel this way he'd never know. She somehow knew him better than he knew himself. "That's it, there you go honey...just feel good for me. It's all you're good for, isn't it? Being touched like this...letting me use you."

Barty whined and bucked his hips again, earning a light slap on his cheek with wet fingers. "I'm sorry, holy fuck that feels so good—"

"Barty." Lily warned.

"M'sorry, fuck, fuck, I'm sorry, please keep going! I'll be good! I'll shut up and I'll be a good boy, I'll be such a good boy for you, oh jesus christ just like that—"

Lily smiled against his skin but didn't say anything this time. She had to admit, hearing him beg was starting to make her clench her thighs together. Barty was fun to play with, but she really did want to make him feel good. In her own strange, dominating way. They had only been doing this for a few months but she'd memorised all the little things he liked hearing her say, all the things he wanted her to do to him. Pull his hair mostly, and she reached up to tug his head back as she sucked a mark onto his throat—her hand speeding up when she heard him let out a guttural moan. He was close.

"M'fuck—" he grabbed her hips as she nuzzled her nose into his cheek.

"You can cum, it's okay. It's okay, honey. Good boy." Within seconds, Barty tipped over the edge. Lily worked him through it, staring up at his face as he scrambled against the wall and then gulped.

"Jesus...you're a fucking freak." He was grinning from ear to ear. Lily felt herself smiling too. "You're coming home with me, right?"

"I have to get my bag." She told him as she wiped her sticky hand onto his shirt. He didn't even flinch, nor did she. It was routine.

"Fuck the bag, I'll buy you another one."

"Tempting, but I want my stuff. Just wait here, alright?" She was about to walk back into the club when Barty tilted his head. "What?"

"You...I didn't say it earlier because I thought you'd make fun of me, and for once I didn't want you too, but you look gorgeous, Lil." He gave her a new smile then, something small and sincere and...innocent. She flushed. Barty actually made her lost for words. "I'll be here and we can go to mine. Can do that thing you like with my tongue." He licked his lips.

And he's back.

#this is depraved #i love it thank you for requesting it #the marauders #lily evans #barty crouch jr #bartylily #portfolio #barty x lily #lily x barty

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b0xerdancer-writes · 10 months ago

Text

It Wasn't Supposed To Happen Like This Part 6

Eris x Rhy's Sister! Reader

Summary: Eris used to be attached at the hip to Rhysand’s younger sister. Now that he has taken over as High Lord of the Autumn Court, his father’s old high table have been pressuring him to take a wife, he comes up with the brilliant lie that he's already courting someone and has been for several years now. Eris asks Rhysand’s little sister, the best way to get away with it and make it believable, to fake court her.

Warnings: Elain and Mor slander, cussing 18+, some nsfw lean but no sex scenes yet, alcohol, parental abuse, death, murder, arguing. Not proofread.

Trope/Prompt: Fake Dating

Word Count: 4,644

Notes: Let the ball begin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few weeks later I awoke to a soft knock on my bedroom door. I had been sleeping soundly with the small hound curled into my side, however the small knock was enough to wake her up. I had named her Brandy like the drink my mate was so fond of, she stretched and licked my face to wake me further just as the door squeaked open. Lucien laughed as I groaned and picked Brandy up off of me.

Wait…

Lucien?

Lucien!

Lucien had been out in Autumn Court helping Eris with preparations for the festival for about a week and a half now. His return was a surprise to me and I shot up from the comfy spot I had created.

“Lucien! What the fuck? When did you get back? You arse! You could have told me you’d be back today, I would have had breakfast made!” I growled at him, had he not had Brandy tucked into his arms I would have chucked a pillow at his face.

He laughed back at me and smiled brightly, his hair pulled up in a messy bun and dressed in a cream colored sweater, some comfy loose flowy pants that poofed around his knees from his riding boots, a small tabard for the dagger i had gifted him the first birthday he had that I had seen him since he had escaped to the Spring court. He smiled brightly and looked around my room where gift bag upon gift bag was piled up.

“We finished preparations a day earlier so Eris sent me back here to make sure everything was good and you were ready for tomorrow, He just got his suit last week and didn't need to get it altered by the way. I see he got a bit carried away with his little gifts.” He scratched brandy behind her floppy little ears and let out a small chuckle as she whined whenever he stopped.

“Honestly these are all from throughout the week you've been gone. I just haven't had a chance to go through all of them yet. I mean do we have anything to do today? You could help me, Luc!” I tilted my head at him and he sat Brandy on the floor.

“Well then let's get to it we have a lot to go through, I’ll go get us some coffee and some breakfast sweets from that bakery you like down the road, while you get dressed and ready for the day.” He dismissed himself from the room and I could hear the click of his boots on the floor as he made his way back to the front of the house.

“Hey Luc? Can you take Brandy on her morning walk since you're going out?” I yelled down after him and Brandy barked excitedly.

“Yep! I got you sister!” He whistled for Brandy who raced out of the room after the ginger male.

I heard the jingle of him clipping her leash followed by the click of the door shut. I forced myself out of bed and into the bathroom to freshen up for the lazy day, I moved my hair from my face and slipped into my closet. Once I had changed into some comfy clothes I sat criss-cross on the floor and began digging into one of the bags, the dress I would be wearing tomorrow was neatly hung on my closet door and was a looming reminder of what tomorrow could mean for me and Eris. Lucien returned just as I was beginning to sink into my own thoughts, Brandy was the first to greet me as she climbed her way into my lap. Lucien sat our two cups of coffee on my vanity table and joined me criss-cross on the floor.

The three of us went through bag after bag of gifts, Brandy helping the best she could by being our clean-up team: Her job? To tear up every loose scrap of tissue or wrapping paper that didn't stay in the distinct pile me and Lucien had created. The gifts were unpredictable, the variety too large to guess, still Lucien and I tried our best. So far it had ranged everything from a bottle of wine and nice glasses to drink from and small pieces of jewelry to toys for Brandy, decor pieces to make the small apartment more obviously themed like the Autumn Court, and some very obviously expensive pieces like the last bag I had just opened. Wrapped in shimmery copper paper and tied with a dark green bow, the box was light and Lucien hummed loudly.

“What do you think it is?” He chirped

“Hmmmm, my guess is going to be something for the dance tomorrow, it's the newest present that just came in yesterday.” I hummed back in response.

Pulling the large bow, it untied itself effortlessly, I removed the lid. Just as quickly as I had peaked inside I slammed the lid closed. Lucien looked up at me startled.

“What is it?” He leaned forward trying to grab the box from me to peek inside himself. I swatted his hand and hissed.

He pulled his hand back with a faux-shocked look on his face as he gaped at me. I opened the box again and stared at the jewelry within it. Lucien stared at me expectantly and I tossed the lid into the trash pile, Brandy growling at it as it almost fell out.

“No… he didnt.”Lucien gasped and covered his mouth, the metal eye whirring as his eyes widened.

My eyes darted between the box and Lucien.

“Oh you have him hooked. Seriously hooked.” Lucien mumbled and grabbed a sip from his coffee.

“What do you mean Lucien?” I hissed.

“That, sister, is from the vaults of the autumn court. I saw it earlier this week when I went down there with Eris looking for a piece of art he wanted hung up in the main hall for the dance.”

He murmured as he took another sip to be dramatic.

“Oh.”I mumbled, stunned.

“Oh is right, he's wrapped around your finger hun.” Brandy deposited one of her new toys in his lap and he threw it out in the hall for her.

In the box, nestled on a silky pillow the same color as the bow, was a gold diadem decorated in branches and leaves with a ruby in the center of the point that came between your brows and it somehow matched the cuffs and necklace he had bought me earlier. Beside it was a folded note, written in the familiar cursive scrawl I knew as Eris.

“All preparations have been completed for the festival, Lucien has been a major help in setting everything up while I've been in meeting after meeting. I’m sure you are able to recognize this piece is older, I spied it while in the vaults with Lucien, while I admit it was not my intention at the time to be in the vaults for this piece and I was in fact there for an ancient painting that has been passed down in my family. After I had left the vaults the piece you hold now refused to leave my mind, I imagined how well it would match the cuffs and necklace you will be wearing with your dress for the festival in two days time, I would be honored if you wore this with those accessories as well. It would send a message to all my advisors and those I wish to see replaced, I know it seems a lot and it will take everyone by surprise to see you wear a crown from autumn but my mother had it crafted as a gift for whatever female I decided I was going to court, so it will see its use in you. I will be forced to wear my own similar crown due to my duties as High Lord, so it will make us match even more and present a further unified front to the people of my court who doubt me and pressure me into taking a wife. I thank you in advance my dear. Love, Eris.” I read aloud.

Lucien stared back at me with wide eyes as he prompted my response.

I didn't give one, simply picked up the diadem and rose to my feet. I stood in front of the mirror on my vanity and placed the small gold band on my head, then looked at Lucien with tears in my eyes. He smiled sadly.

“You’ll look like a High Lady tomorrow. Mother save him, Eris will have you decorated and on display more than Rhys does with Feyre.” He huffed with the slightest smile.

I took the crown off and gently sat it on my vanity next to the other jewelry I would be dressed in tomorrow. “Honestly Luc… I think I’m okay with that. I mean it will get suspicion off of Eris, and show him the lengths I'm willing to go for him. Fuck, maybe it will even cause the bond to snap for him, a girl can hope right? If it doesn't go well then I still get to have my fun and imagine what it would be like, right Luc?” I mused at him, sadly at first but then excitedly as I processed the information myself.

He simply smirked at me. “Sure thing, Sister. All I’m saying is, I called it~”

We spent the rest of the evening in the living room burning the tissue paper in the fireplace, eventually Lucien stood and announced he was going to start making dinner. Our night stayed uneventful as we both took our places either side of the table to eat, Lucien eventually herding me to his room to show me the outfit he would be wearing and to show me the trinkets he had brought back himself. Brandy eventually stumbled into the room tripping on her own ears with a big yawn, I collected her from the floor and she whined softly, eagerly awaiting bed.

Lucien chuckled as I dismissed both Brandy and myself from the room, he wished us both a goodnight and closed the door behind us. I had installed steps for Brandy, courtesy of Lucien, so she could climb up and down from my bed as she wished; however due to her size and tendency to trip on her own ears from time to time, often enough I just picked her up to help her up and down. I had sat her in a faux-fur blanket and she began immediately curling into a ball. I couldn't blame her, tomorrow was going to be a long day and she would be joining me; Eris had gifted her an elegant collar that had been lined with fur padding, a deep wine red collar that had small maple leaves embroidered into it, and a little copper maple leaf tag hung from it. I changed into a night slip and joined her in the warm covers, the second I laid down she curled into my side and I dismissed the faelights.

I awoke earlier than I normally did, the dark of the sky just beginning to dim, to find Lucien finishing up his hair in the mirror and he offered to take Brandy out for her morning walk while I got ready myself. Passing him the sleepy pup, he gave me a soft smile and disappeared down the dim hallway, only lit up by one small faelight we used to make sure we didn't trip on any of Brandy’s toys when it was dark inside the house. I slipped into the bathroom around him and leaned down to draw a bath, only to find the bath freshly drawn and warmed to the perfect temperature. Lucien and I had this habit, since we knew the others daily routine so well, from small things like fresh cups of coffee prepared to the perfect temperature with all the fixings in it we had wanted to things such as this, all in favor of making the others day easier for them; it had come to us naturally being roommates for awhile now and even before that when he was small, we would exchange small trinkets like something he found in the gardens and I would bring him a treat from Night Court the next time I saw him.

Lucien returned about half an hour later, a few minutes after I had decided to finally leave the warmth of the bath, now feeling clean and fresh enough to look like the soon-to-be high lady Eris was wanting me to play. I wrapped a fluffy towel around me and slid into my room, slipping on my undergarments and finally stepping into the A-line skirt I had fallen in love with weeks ago.

Lucien knocked softly at the door. “Will you need any help with fastening the dress closed Sister?”

Lucien’s new nickname for me rarely caught me off guard anymore unless he was using it to tease me for what he claimed was Eris’s obvious affections.

“Yes please, actually I could use it now.” I chirpped over my shoulder.

The door clicked open and Lucien stepped in quietly and began fiddling with the clasps on the back. “You know all the high lords will be there tonight right? It's the first holiday or festival hosted in the court since Eris became High Lord. All eyes will be on you two.”

I could hear his genuine worry for me in his voice. “I know Luc, I’ll be okay, Eris will be okay. We’ve got this handled.” I smiled over my shoulder at him and he offered me a unsure smile back,

“I know,” he sighed “I just worry about you two, you two are some of the only family I have, save for Jurian and Vassa.”

I raised my brow at him, he hadn’t mentioned any dealings with the two recently, though I knew the affections he harbored for the two when they comforted after Tamlin sent all of his stuff to the manor south of the Spring Court.

“Will they be there today or tonight as well?” I offered him the ability to further discuss them.

“They should be, during the day at least. That's why we expanded the festival partially, so Vassa could also enjoy it while it also making a statement about Eris’s dedication to the court.” he seemed to brighten up a bit as he got distracted talking about the two.

He sat on the bed and Brandy scrambled to try and climb up the stairs, but when she failed and tripped over her ears Lucien ultimately ended up moving her into his lap. He continued to ramble about some need to know stuff that was seen as customary in the Autumn Court, amongst other subjects, I slipped on the golden cuffs, clasped the necklace around my neck and straightened it out, followed by the ring Eris had gifted me. I slipped on some surprisingly comfortable yet stylish black pumps that had gold detailing on the heels. I grabbed the collar from my vanity and turned to where Lucien was holding Brandy, he unclasped her old collar with a loud gasp and she leapt from his lap, bounding across my bed we both laughed at her antics until she finally calmed and I was able to slip the new one on around her neck.

Lucien stood and ushered me into the vanity chair, he refused to let me do my own hair for events if he had any say in it. He lost himself in styling it before finally setting the golden diadem on my head with a nod, he picked up the container of kohl I had and began lining my eyes with it. Once he had finished, we clipped Brandy into her leash and I picked her up in my arms, she seemed so proud of her new collar. We slipped from our apartment and the wards of the locks clicked into place behind us, he helped me down the stairs slowly making sure none of the tulle or silk got caught. Once we were on the sidewalk I realized the many citizens of Velaris that were out walking around, the sun now early in the sky still well before noon, had their eyes on me and were whispering back and forth with each other with eager smiles on their faces. I knew what they were thinking, Lucien had graciously pointed it out to me yesterday, Oh how I was going to enjoy the look on Rhys’s face when he saw me tucked into Eris’s side; Azriel would probably be told to take a breather by Rhys unless they brought Elain, she might be able to keep him calm.

Lucien tucked me and Brandy into his side, though I could have winnowed us myself Lucien was adamant about me preserving my energy as I ‘have a long day ahead’. Much Like Eris’s winnowing Lucien’s was warm like the caress of heat you would get from sitting beside a bon-fire, but it was unique in itself as it felt like it glittered or shined, that instead of bending the world around him the light and sun rays bent to his whim. Before I could even blink we had appeared in the Autumn Court, the smell of spices and cider filled the air and filled me with a warm familiarity that made my chest ache for Eris. It was only after I stepped out of Lucien’s side that I realized where we stood, the small clearing where me and Eris had once called our sanctuary had been turned into a private garden, a large hedge lined the outer edge of the clearing and led towards the forest house a short distance away.

Only then as I looked around did I realize Eris had the entire clearing decorated in soft fae lights, a sculpted bench sat in the place the old wooden log had, the sir had a soft chill to it and reminded me why I loved this place as much as I did. Lucien stiffened beside me as I sat Brandy on the forest floor, leash clipped neatly to the padded collar, she barked happily in the way of the opening in the hedge that led towards the house.

When my attention drifted towards the gorgeously carved archway, there stood Eris wide-eyed in a suit that matched my dress: primarily black, with the same flame effect of my underskirt on his waist coat. I swallowed sharply and smiled at him, my chest pounded and the bond throbbed with how perfect he looked, with how obvious it would be to all others he was mine.

He gathered his composure and stepped forward, hugging Lucien who dismissed himself through the way Eris had just come, then turned to me and brought my hand to his lips and he bowed softly.

“Cauldron save me, you look gorgeous, just the image I wished to present to my court. Thank you for doing this my lady.”

I smiled softly, feeling heat begin to creep into my face and a throb in my chest. “Mother above Eris, you call me gorgeous yet have you looked in a mirror? You are the epitome of a High Lord!”

He smiled back at me softly, pulling me into a tight hug he sighed softly. “No I mean it Darling, Thank You, tonight would have been so much harder without you beside me. At least now I’ll avoid having to deal with my father’s advisors barking at me to keep my eyes peeled for a pretty female.”

I leaned my head against his chest and sighed, taking in his warm scent. “No worries Eris, like I promised, I’m here if you need me. No matter what. You need me to face every high lord in Prythian all at the same time while posing as your girl? So be it I’ll deal with their eyes on me, no prob.”

I heard him chuckle softly and relax in my arms, Brandy however was not pleased with the fact she was not getting any attention and was adamant about letting us know it. He released me from his hold and looked down at the small hound, with his hands on his hips.

“I hear you mam!” He turned back to me again. “What did you end up naming her?” he kneeled down and scratched behind her long ears.

“Brandy.” I smiled gently watching the scene unfold in front of me.

He snorted as he giggled, Brandy moving to nibble at his hand. “Fitting, she's got the spice of a fire brandy. And it's good to see the collar fits her.”

He knelt there petting the small pup, while looking her over. “No health issues? No training issues?”

I shook my head. “No, I haven't had any issues with her at all. She's been well behaved.”

He smiled and Brandy rolled over onto her belly. “Good, I figured she'd be a good blood line, her sire was Maple’s great-great grandpup.”

I smiled brightly at the two on the forest floor. “I thought I recognized the spunk.”

We both laughed and he rose from the floor, Brandy in his arms happily trying to get to his face, tongue lolling out and settling for just licking at the exposed skin of his arm. I took her from his arms and he offered me his arm, I linked mine and in unison we both took a deep breath.

“To the promise we made all those years ago to never leave the other alone?” He looked down at me out of the corner of his eye.

I nodded. “To the leaves of Maple that were the only beings to hear our promise.”

He nodded back at me and squared his shoulders. All those years ago, when we had made the deal that initially was just him asking to never be left alone, I had extended it to be either way: that We would never leave the Other alone. It had been just us and the trees that day, and as we sealed the deal we had spoken those words to each other for the first time; a sharp sting followed by a dull throbbing on my ankle led me to discover the sight of two small maple leaves intertwined with eachother. Eris had grasped at his protruding hip bone just below where his belt was clasped around his waist, the location of his tattoo had caused my face to heat, just the thought of it today caused blood to rush to my face.

In my dedication to Eris as my mate I had never chased after another male, had no interest in them either really. Of course I knew what would be asked of me as his wife, if had come to that at that time, but all I had ever really seen was my brothers after training, or the low slung pants of male’s at Rita’s that revealed just a little too much for my liking. It had often caused me to lose interest in the current objective that led to me seeing the other males, the bond aching in my chest reminding me of loyalty to Eris, often caused me to return to my room or apartment and escape into the books either within the library or in later years what Lucien and I had collected within our little apartment. Every time we echoed the promise we had made back in the day, I was reminded very quickly of the tattoo on my ankle and the same one on his hip. I felt the heat in my face extended to my pointed ears as my eyes glanced over where the concealed tattoo would be before I straightened my back and looked forward.

Tonight would be hard, I decided. With Eris looking so perfect, the ache of want that had settled in my chest with a slow throb, and the heat in my face and chest that slowly moved lower and lower every time I glanced at Eris by my side. The crunch of fallen leaves under my heels drew me back to reality as we neared the gardens of the first house, I could hear music and laughter from within the house. The halls had been closed off in a way Eris and I could make a grand entrance together through the second entrance into the grand ballroom.

Our steps echoed against the halls as we walked in silence through the now warm halls of the Forest house, till we stopped right in front of a set of large wooden doors. The music and laughter was obvious on the other side of it, two guards looked back and forth between each other and then to Eris.

Eris looked down at me with a worried smile. “Ready?”

“Ready.”I echoed.

We both nodded at each other and then Eris nodded at the guards. Two finely dressed males with simple leathers on, a helmet in one arm and a sheathed blade at either side. They knocked firmly on the door once, the music and chatter from the other side becoming quiet as I heard a loud booming voice clear their throat.

“Introducing our High Lord of Autumn, Eris Vanserra,” soft cheering erupted but was quickly silenced again as the male continued, murmurs replaced the cheering.

“And the female he has declared he will be courting: The Princess of Night Court herself!” Whoops and hollers could be heard as the doors began opening slowly.

Eris and I took a deep breath, Brandy made herself comfortable yet regal looking in one of my arms. I let Eris lead us into the room of Prythian residents. Eris nodded and mouthed a thanks to the small male I now realized was the announcer. We came to a stop a few steps in front of the announcer, and Eris cleared his own throat unlinking his arm with mine.

“Thank you all for being here, I simply wanted to start this celebration with a quick speech.” The way the light of the grand glass chandelier hit him I was breathless, he seemed like the only male in the room as he drew everyone's attention to him.

“As many of you know this is the first holiday I will be celebrating with you all as High Lord, but I would not have been able to do it if it wasn't for the female at my side and my dear brother Lucien, both of you helped me greatly even if you don’t know it. Secondly, I would like to thank the citizens of Autumn Court for believing in me as their new High Lord. My goal from the second I took over the throne has been to reform this court and with your help and dedication I have been able to begin working in that direction. Think tonight not only as a celebration of a holiday but also as a celebration for your hard work. Now please let me not continue to ramble on because I will with thanking you for every little thing that has made tonight possible, and continue your celebrations.” Cheers erupted and I smiled sweetly at Eris as I extended my hand to him which he took eagerly, Brandy cheering him on with her own little howls and bays.

A servant brought around small champagne flutes, both of us taking one as we clinked them together.

“To tonight?” I chirped.

“To us.” Eris echoed my tone, and we both took a sip from the glasses in our hands.

No, tonight wouldn’t be as difficult as I had thought, tonight would be fantastic. I had Eris at my side after all and if all the eyes on us had any indication how it was going so far, it was working.

Taglist:

@stained-glass-eyes0708 @acourtofbatboydreams @abysshaven

@wallacewillow0773638 @azriels-mate2 @sassyslytherinshai

@sparksandstarss @pandabiiissh @saltedcoffeescotch @cirwin2013

@minnieoo @easchies @melsunshine

@sweetcarolina-24 @florenceivy @inloveallthetime

@azrielsmate3 @witchymomfrien @eternallyelvish

@mybestfriendmademe

#acotar x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #eris vanserra x reader #eris acotar #lucien acotar #lucien vanserra #acotar fanfiction

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tradgedyinwaves · 2 months ago

Note

Ok, this might be weird or I'm weird. Who knows.

But some sort of primal play and petpay w reader Ghost-owner!Price and Soap-owner!Gaz

Like leashes puzzles, mitts, reader gets tucked six-ways-to-Sunday🤭

Soap beeing to eager and stuff.

Go crazy🩷

I really love your writing😘

-🏇🏻

I'm going to start this off by saying I know almost nothing about any kind of primal or pet play. Hope you enjoy! (partially inspired by another writer)

tw: orgasm denial, bondage, caging, pet play, dp

When you were led into Price's bedroom, you were met with quite the sight.

Ghost was caged, sitting in the kennel with his wrists and knees bound together, naked as the day he was born. A soft gag was in his mouth as he let out a pathetic whimper.

Soap, though. Soap was seated in a chair next to Ghost, secured to said seat with handcuffs and rope, naked as well. But the most interesting thing was the muzzle keeping his jaw shut.

A hand came up to hold your jaw facing them, gentle but firm.

"Would you like to help us teach them a lesson, pet?" Price rumbles into your ear, low and gravely.

"You see, love. These two mutts thought they could play and we wouldn't find out. So now they get to watch while we give our perfect little bunbun here all the pleasure they wanted to take for themselves," Gaz explained quietly, dragging the backs of his knuckles down your arm.

A shiver ran down your spine before Gaz placed his hands on your upper arms and led you to the bed. Price stepped away to check their pups bindings which only had Soap whimpering and whining, tugging at his cuffs and ropes.

Gaz removed the pretty dress you'd donned for your date with your owners, letting the soft fabric pool on the floor before tossing you onto the bed for a very long evening.

By the time you were speared on Price's lap with his thick cock stretching your little cunt to the limit, Gaz had worked his length into your guts and the two were now pistoning into you at opposite times.

It was the fullest you'd ever been and you were sobbing into Price's shoulder from the intensity of all the sensations battering your used body. You could already feel your fourth orgasm of the night building inside you, the coil tightening impossibly in your belly.

Ghost sat in his cage, cock leaking as he watched his owner plow into your sweet heat. His eyes were glued to the way you stretched around him. Soap on the other hand was a whimpering whining mess. He wanted to be in your position and also be the one rutting into your perfect body.

When your orgasm crashed through you and you let out the most beautiful cries, Soap growled in his muzzle as his cock began pumping out his own release. Oh, he'd have to pay for that. Ghost was a good boy now, gritting his teeth as he fought the urge to follow in Soap's steps. Averting his eyes, knuckles pushed into the floor of his cage so hard he thought he might crush them.

It only took a few more pumps before your owners were bullying all the way into you as they emptied their balls into your used holes.

Gaz moved first, pulling out and sitting back on his haunches to watch his cum drip over Price's balls and onto the bed. His attention turned to Soap and tsked. "Looks like you need to go in the crate, boy." Soap shook his head before hanging it in defeat, knowing he'd messed up.

Price took his time offering you the comfort and solace you needed in the aftermath of such a ruthless fucking. Meanwhile, Gaz released Ghost, fingers looped into the collar around the behemoth's neck as he ushered his own pet into the crate. He locked Soap in, still covered in his own mess

"Ghost here was such a good boy, Cap. Think he deserves a reward, hm?" Gaz's attention looked down at the man and scratched under his chin. Price looked up over your head as he held you to his chest, hands soothing up and down your back even while his cock stayed buried inside you.

His eyes narrowed as he took in the state of his pup, a wicked grin moving under his mustache. "Here, mutt," Price called to Ghost, who eagerly came to the side of the bed on all fours. Price reached up and patted your ass, a gesture Ghost knew to mean 'mount'.

Coming up behind you, you felt the weight of his hands on your hips as he practiced the highest level of control he knew. It wouldn't end well for him if he just thrust into you as hard as he could, so he took it slow, filling you inch by inch.

You let out a soft sound, burying your face into Price's neck. Once Ghost was fully seated, hips flush against your ass, Price held up a hand to stop him from beginning to fuck into you. "Cum, boy. Fill her up."

Ghost's eyes widened slightly before the wall came crumbling down and he started to shoot rope after rope of his cum into your used hole. His body curled over yours as he did, chest flush against your back as you whined softly.

These days always ended in a massive cuddle pile, curled up under the blankets with your face pressed into Ghost's chest with Price at his back. Soap would normally be at your back with Gaz on the other side, but the poor man was still serving his punishment. Caged, muzzled and left naked.

Don't worry. He'll get let out...eventually.

I'm not super impressed with this but I hope you enjoy!

#call of duty x reader #simon ghost riley #captain john price #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #poly!141 #simon riley x reader #kyle gaz x reader #john price #john price x reader #cod modern warfare #tradgedyinwaves #tradgedyasks

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syrma-sensei · 4 months ago

Text

Somewhere In Your Heart, Ch.4: Unmasked.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Fem!reader.

Rating: Explicit.

Warnings: Herogasm (need I elaborate more?), implied smut, angst, emotional rollercoaster...

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Soldier boy lives through the ennui of his peak, but everything is about to change when he has a shift in his heart.

Herogasm.

A place where supes exert their whims and desires without being pried on. The rumours you heard were rife with obscenity and outrageousness. However, what you're beholding now makes you think that whatever you heard about the affair was ten times more downwashed than the veritable things occuring before you right now.

Everything is raw, pure, and carnal.

They're just like humans. Like you.

“It’s my thing.” Soldier boasts in the middle of the display debauchery.

He's just like humans, of flesh and needs; like you.

You muster up a salacious grin, sliding the laces of your dress down in order to strip off. Soldier Boy rushes and holds your hands to your arms to stop you.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing, doll?” He snarls.

Your grin doesn't waver, your brow quirks up playfully, “Getting naked? I'm feeling overdressed here.”

He lets another guttural sound. “Not in here.” His voice is commanding and you shiver.

He pulls you through the scenes of sex and pleasure. You watch supes having their way with other supes and normal people. You wonder if the normal workers consented to be here. You see men with women, men with men, women with women. No facades, no masks. You feel the thrill roil your belly at the sounds of naked flesh slamming against naked flesh. You fathom a strange kind of sincerity in this place, where one can be and do whatever they want.

“See, I established this…” He waves a hand around, “Back in 52, with Liberty.”

You raise a brow at the new info.

“Why?” You ask.

His brows furrow, “Why I built this? Because we fucking deserve it. We're gods among men, and we have gods’ tendencies.”

“But I see normal people here,” You chuckle, “I thought we humans were way below you and your kind.”

Soldier Boy stops in his tracks. Turning on his heels, his hand grabs your jaws, making you moan at the force. He pulls you in to whisper in your ear, “We can do whatever we want, fuck whoever we want. In time, you'll understand how privileged you are to be mine.”

“Words, words…” You snatch your head out of his grasp in defiance, “I only hear words and see no actio—!”

He shuts you up with his crushing lips. You moan at the rapturous strength in his hands as he pulls into his hold. You can feel the warm and firm muscles underneath his gear. His lips are full and ravenous against yours, for a moment, you felt as if he's going to swallow you whole. The way his lips covet yours ripples through your body down to your core; you moan again.

He breaks the kiss for a second, gazing down at you with half-lidded eyes, purring, “Do you want to be truly mine?”

You tear up as emotions burn both in your heart and eyes. The world's strongest superhero is asking you to be his. You ogle him through your tears. No man ever required your permission before. The leash Jack has on you makes you an available mount for anyone who's ready to pay Jack enough to let them have you.

Soldier Boy — Ben, didn't do anything of the sort even though he made sure whatever the thing had been going between the two of you was worth it. Yes. You want to be his, even if only for the night. You want to be claimed by this man, you want to feel it for once, that you have control over your life and do something of your choice.

“Yes.” You utter, your lips are still close to his. “Make me yours, please.”

Soldier Boy grins. That giddy and boyish grin is growing on you. The way his eyes light up at your acceptance.

He takes you to private chambers, and makes you his.

Ben cards a hand through your hair as your head lays on his chest. His eyes are gazing up to the ceiling.

He's just had one of the best nights of his life. The satisfying sensation of mirth is piercing into his bone. He finally had you, and his mind is at peace, for now.

However, he can't say the same thing about his heart which is bumping with nourishment under your ear. He hasn't felt this in god knows for how long. He feels happy. Truly happy. And it's not just the sex.

Fuck. It casts upon him that he doesn't want this to end after tonight. He realises he wants more of you, more of this. Whatever this is… he craves for more, more of you. More of this non-ephemeral happiness. He knows it. He can feel it in his bones that the cat and mouse game between you played out into something more. He's feeling sweet tingles in his body like a fucking teen boy. Be that as it may, he's fond of it.

He sighs softly, hand still buried in your hair.

Could it be?

Could it be you? The one with whom he wants to make his childish dream come true?

The one he'd make a family with?

He doesn't know.

The only thing he's certain of at the moment is that he doesn't want what he has with you to end, contrary to what he initially believed.

He feels you shift under his arm. You crane your face up to meet his. God, you're fucking pretty. Pretty can't even describe the happy glow you're in now. Pride sprouts in his chest that he made you happy. His little ol’ heart beats fast at the fact. His fancy is so tickled.

“Are you compensated, doll face?” He asks playfully.

Your eyes furrow, confused for a moment, then a blush invades your cheeks.

The sound of his deep chuckle makes your heart swell, it's refreshing. “Oh, I am. Plenty.” You giggle.

“Good, because you're gonna have to get used to my generosity.”

You blink several times at the sudden revelation that you sit up.

He mimics you as he sits up, noticing the silent panic in your eyes, “What is it?”

“I can't be yours alone.” You whisper. “Jack won't let that happen…”

He frowns, the mere mention of his name grinds on his gears. He grumbles, “That fuckhead can suck on my dick for all I care.”

You sigh, “Ben… you don't understand, he owns me—”

His lips seal yours. “Shh, I'm a jealous man, I warn you. I won't have my girl talking about another man owning her.”

A strange yet delightful shiver courses through your body. Did he just call me his girl?

“Then do something.” You tear up, emotions burning your eyes. “I don't want him. I want you. Please.”

He flinches when you hug him, crying into his chest. Fuck, he isn't good with sentimental shit. Sentiments are a women's department, not a seasoned soldier's like himself. Fuck! He should do something, but his body is alerted to do anything and you crying into his chest isn't making it better.

“Shh…” His arms reluctantly hold you back, a hand patting your back softly.

“Ben…” His heartstrings tug painfully at the way you say his name, the way you implore him. “Please don't let him take me back.”

His chin rests on your head, his hand still patting your back. “I won't. You're mine now.”

“Don’t let me go, please.”

Fuck this, he isn't good at comforting anyone, because he never did it to anyone neither was it done to him. Somewhere weird burns his eyes as he remembers his loveless childhood. It's as if the sound of your sobbing triggers it.

“I won't let anyone take you from me. You have my word for that.”

Soldier Boy is many things, but a promise breaker isn't one of them.

You don't realise that you dozed off on Ben's chest until you wake up after hours. Ben's side is empty. You groan as you rub your eyes. You hear ecstatic moans woven into music, it's still permeating through the door; the party doesn't stop.

You shift in your spot. Your core aches from sweet soreness.

You can't believe you just slept with the hero of all heroes, in Herogasm no less. Weeks of tantalising mutual pinning are finally put the button on.

Instead of being disappointed, it's glee that's undulating in your skin. When Ben and you started this game, you believed it would be a fleeting fling. But now, you don't want what it resulted to end. You want this to proceed with what it has to unearth in the future.

You aren't naïve, you aren't unaware of your circumstances. But your stupid heart, that you thought dead, is beating with such vehemence you don't recognise. With something alien to you…. could it be love?

You shake your head at the absurdity of which. But you can't help the smile that pulls on your lips as you remember Ben's promise. You're his now.

Jack taught you to always distinguish between business and pleasure. but here you are, in a mess of business and pleasure yet in neither. You're in a mess of what you forgot long ago. Life.

Ben has brought life back to your miserable existence, and whether you like it or not, your heart is beating for that man even if his feelings don't requite yours. At least he shows some kind of interest, a benign one.

As the sounds of passion keep pouring through the walls, you wonder if Ben joined in one of the activities you saw when he toured you around. Men like Ben tend to be heartbreakers, mean, and uncouth. And he's taken what he wants from you. You push the panicked qualms and doubts about whether he wants anything to do with you or not to the back of your mind. He promised. You remind yourself.

Trying to argue the muscle that is still palpating with vigour in your chest, Jealousy burns your chest at the thought of Ben being with another woman… or women.

Yes, you harbour something for Ben. Lust, love, adoration… you aren't sure, but it doesn't matter, nevertheless. You know he can't be yours the way you can be his. You try to reason with yourself. But alas. You can't accept it, you want him all to yourself just the way he wants you all to himself.

The thought of him with another drives you to sit up.

You find a nightgown hanging next to the bed. You're incredulous to wear it. Many people would have worn it, but you put it on, though.

You rush out of the room, and you're surrounded with naked people again. Back glued to the wall, you tiptoes into a corridor wherein a man and a woman are copulating.

You pass by them then you jolt when you hear a bellowing laugh, “And I tell ya, it was the best shot I had with my bitch of a sister in our entire lives.”

“Betcha.” You hear Ben say, “If it weren't for my order back then; they would've given me slip, because you and your sis decided to pussy out on the mission.”

You raise a brow. It dawns upon you that you never saw that side of Ben. The superhero side of him, if there's any. You're curious, so you encourage yourself to eavesdrop. You want to know more about him.

“You can't blame us, there were citizens in the building!” The other man grouses, “They’re on you, Ben.”

The latter snickers, “Those people were in the way, the mission was to croak the assholes and I did. More people could've been hurt if they'd ducked out.”

Your heart paces up as they talk. Why does this sound so familiar? A bile of bitterness lurches in your throat.

“Still… an entire building was on fire that day.”

“It’s been, what? 10 years? And you’re still bitter about it, kid?”

“Fuck no!” The man scoffs, “I just told you it was the best shot we had with Tessa! Plus, it's been only six years! Nope, can't forget the best day of my career.”

Your breath hyperventilates as the minutiae gets familiar and familiar with you, conjuring up flashes of the day that changed your life for good.

“Not bad for someone who always misses their fucking marks.” Soldier Boy's tone is tight.

Tessa… Tessa… Tessa. You rack your mind fumbling through the inkling of the name. Then it snaps. Tommy and Tessa, The TNT Twins. Two members of Payback. Soldier Boy, TNT Twins, a burning building, six years ago? Could it be the same incident that took your brother's life?

Six years ago, the shitty building you used to reside in was invaded by criminals chased by none other than Payback. You were out in a sleep over at one of your friends’ while your brother was at home sleeping. According to people who gave their account of the incident, the criminals set the building on fire to distract the heroes with rescuing the civilians from the flames rather than going after them. However, and simply put, Payback could catch up with them and annihilate the threat. One of the side casualties was your brother, and you in somehow.

With no close relatives to go to, you had to be dragged from orphanage to orphanage. Until you met Jack when you were sixteen at a bar, and made you what you are now.

You feel the urge to throw up. You were always aware that your brother was a victim to that incident. To those criminals. It didn't occur to you that his death sentence was uttered by Ben.

Tears swell up in your eyes, they exude out in two rivulets down your cheeks, you cover your mouth with your hands to prevent an audible gasp.

You swallow hard and try to pull yourself together. Turning on your heels, you put on your clothes, and head back home. Back to Jack.

🦅 Previous Chapter: Mirrors.

🦅 Next Chapter: A Man's Property.

🦅 Somewhere In Your Heart Masterlist

🦅 Soldier Boy Masterlist

Taglist: @thebiggerbear, @zepskies, @deanbrainrotwritings, @deansbbyx, @deans-spinster-witch

@venus-haze, @kaleldobrev, @k-slla, @ketchupjasmin, @demodemo909

@mystic-mara, @jqtaro, @pepsicolacoochie, @bitchykittenconnoisseur, @prurose

@leavli, @robertthehoover, @soldiergrimes, @vanessa-boo, @uddiifiigj...

#soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #the boys #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy smut #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy imagines #jensen ackles #jensen ackles characters #somewhere in your heart #syrma writes

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jammed-out · 1 year ago

Text

I Can't Resist

"I've had enough of you thinking you're a person. Here." Your master tossed something at you. It hit the floor skidding across it, stopping an inch from you. You looked down at it from where you were kneeling naked in front of him. "Put that on dog."

You looked down at it. It was a small brown leather dog collar, not even designed for humans. There was a small silver metal tag hanging off of it. You could see that it said "dog" on it. Nothing else. You looked up at them nervously.

"I didn't tell you to hesitate. I said put it on!" They said raising an eyebrow.

Tentatively you reached out one hand, the other kept tightly in your lap. Your fingers touched the leather, it was course and rough and wouldn't feel comfortable on the skin. You wondered how irritating it would be once tightened around your neck. You couldn't help but get a bit nervous and exited at the same time.

Master stomped over ripping the collar out of your hand. "When I tell you to do something. You do it dog!" They gripped your hair pulling your head back. "Or have you forgotten your place again?"

You stared up at their face and wondered how you hand ended up here, like this. Just a few weeks ago you were a top academic, going for your master's degree and now here you are, naked, kneeling before your Master, them ordering you like a dog. You had never even thought of having sex before Master and now you spent every night worshipping their body, doing whatever they told you. Of course they let you out during the day to go pretend that you were still a person, that you had a reason to get your degree, but after graduating you'd be nothing more than a house pet, born for breeding and pleasure.

Master knelt down grabbing the collar and wrapping it around the front of your neck. They pulled it tightly causing you to gasp and whimper, tears forming in the corner of your eyes. You could feel their hands methodically fastening the belt through the metal clasp pulling it shut. You felt them start to twist it around your neck, the leather scratching at your skin. A single tear fell down your cheek as you whimpered softly. You wanted to protest and complain but couldn't, you weren't a person.

While you were in Master's house, you weren't allowed to talk. Only people talk, and you were a dog. You weren't allowed to walk on two feet. Only people can do that, and you were a dog. You crawled. You weren't allowed to wear clothes, only people did that, and you were a dog. You were there to be used for pleasure and to sit and obey. Like a good dog.

They tag dangled on your chest, the cold metal pressing just above your collarbone. You swallowed dryly and felt the collar squeeze your neck back. You suddenly felt so aroused it was nearly unbearable.

"That's much better. Now you know you're mine." They looked you over frowning. "But you know what that means. We need to show the world. So..." They reached into their back pocket and pulled out a long leash. Your eyes went wide in fear. They couldn't possibly mean what you thought they meant.

"That's right dog. We're going to go for a walk. After all, you aren't a person, so why should you care how you look going out?"

You felt your arousal spike. The thought that you would be forced to go out looking like this, completely naked, for anyone to see, with only a collar and leash attached to you, it caused you to stick your tongue out and pant. Some part of you hoped none of your friends would see you like this, but the majority of you hoped they did. It would make things so much easier if everyone knew you were a stupid dog.

"Good dog. Now go fetch your tail and we'll get going."

You got down and started to crawl across the floor on your hands and knees. The sooner you had your tail shoved in your ass, the sooner everyone could see what a good dog you were. You could feel yourself dripping on the floor. You knew Master would make you lick that up before you went, only causing you to drip more. You were such a good dog. You were so lucky Master knew what you were after that first date together and you were even luckier, they knew how to make sure you'd never be a person again.

You grabbed your tail with your mouth wrapping your mouth around the plug and began to crawl back. Master stood there waiting, something small and round in their hand. "Good pet. But before we go." Their finger pressed down on the clicker, the loud pop ringing out through the room.

You felt yourself drop, pupils dilating, jaw going slack as you froze in place. You could hear Master reminding you that you were a dog, it echoed around your empty brain. They told you that you were going to see a friend now and you better behave. That good dogs behaved.

You could feel them start to push the plug into your ass, the tail snapping in place tightly with a pop. You didn't react at all. You could hear the click of the leash on your collar and the slight pull as they tested the connection. You just knelt there on all fours, unmoving, empty, waiting for a command.

"Come dog." You heard the click go off and suddenly everything came flooding back. You panted and eagerly hopped over to Master's side. You were so lucky Master found you when they did. It was dangerous for dogs like you to be left in the wild for too long. They needed to be taught to obey. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ I hope you all enjoyed that one. Thank you to everyone who voted in the poll last week. I'm going to do a weekly poll with some conceptual ideas I have for things I wouldn't normally write. I'll be putting them up the same time as these, 5pm PST every Wednesday. So be sure to vote for what you want me to write, since the polls are going to be switching to a 24 hour window. And if you enjoyed this, feel free to check out my other writings on here, on ROM, or on Twitter, links in my pinned post.

#brainwashing #mind control #mind conditioning #my writings #pet pl4y #puppy sub #dumb puppy

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headkiss · 2 years ago

Note

hiiii can i request and Eddie or Steve x reader where r scrapes their knee really bad and either one won’t stop babying them til it heals? may or may not have scraped my knee really bad 🫣

hiii i went with steve for this one, hope that’s okay!! and hope your knee heals soon lovely <33 | 0.7k fluff, tw for blood !

Steve stays by the windows this time of day. He glances up at everyone that walks by, waiting to catch a glimpse of you.

You walk your dog every day, the same route and everything. When you were a kid, you’d promised that if you got the dog, you’d take care of it, and somehow, you kept that promise.

It’s a nice routine, getting to spend a little time outside, nothing but your footsteps on the sidewalk and the jingle of your dog’s collar.

It’s even better when Steve happens to be outside, when you get to pause and talk to him for a bit.

You’re in front of your house once more when your dog gets distracted by something, circling you and before you know it, the leash is tangled around your leg. When your dog tries to take off, you end up on your hands and knees on the ground with a curse, feeling the sting right away.

Pushing yourself back to sit down, you swear again at the scrape on your knee, the blood coming to the surface, quickly running in a red tear down your leg.

Remorseful, your dog sits next to you and whines. You scratch the fur behind its ears.

Steve, of course, sees the whole thing. First, the little flutter in his chest when he saw you walking by, then, the small panic at seeing you fall. Seeing you even remotely hurt.

He grabs his car keys from the table by the door (to look like he was going somewhere, not like he’d just been watching you) and heads outside.

“Hey, are you okay?” He calls, lightly jogging down his driveway to get to you.

His voice warms you at first. And then the embarrassment creeps in. You cover your face with your hands, and pull them away before replying, “I’m fine, I swear. It looks worse than it is.”

“Why don’t I grab my first aid kit anyway? You can come sit on the porch.”

He holds out a hand, and you grab it with the one that isn’t grasping the leash. Sparks shoot from your fingertips all the way up your arm, landing in a pulse in your chest.

“Thanks, Steve.”

It hurts to bend your knee too much, and you hiss as you stand. So what if you use that as an excuse to lean on him just a little more, to hold onto his hand a little tighter?

Steve helps you sit back down on the porch step, crouching down with you.

“I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod.

Steve walks inside, and once the door’s shut behind him, he all but runs to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit. He’s not sure what it is about you that has him scrambling to spend more time with you, all he knows is that there is something. That it’s sort of undeniable.

While he’s gone, you take a moment to breathe, to try and get over how embarrassed you are that he’s seeing you like this, how much you like being around him even in these circumstances. You press your palm to your forehead and shake your head. You’re a mess.

Steve comes back quickly, a small white box in hand and the sweetest smile you’ve ever known on his face. He’s so kind, he makes it difficult to keep feeling embarrassed.

“Here we go.” He sits down beside you and opens up the first aid kit, grabbing some wipes first.

“I can do it,” you offer. Because as much as you’d love his hands on you, him taking care of you, he really doesn’t have to.

“It’s alright. Let me,” he says, placing a gentle hand around your ankle.

Steve starts by wiping up the blood from your leg, then from around your wound. He’s as gentle as can be, his touch delicate, his voice soft when he apologizes anytime he catches you wincing.

Then, something to clean it, “this might sting a little.”

“Okay,” you practically whisper, afraid to break the softness of the moment. Afraid to mess it up.

He’s right, it does sting, and when you suck in a sharp breath, he’s quick to ease you, “I know, I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

And, well, how could anything hurt when Steve calls you sweetheart?

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tadpolesonalgae · 2 years ago

Text

The Pleasure Hall[*]

Au from the His (Mine.) universe but more along the lines of Filthy Mongrel

Summary: Reader sneaks away from Azriel and winds up in a sex club. Azriel gets pissed that reader escaped after he implicitly told her not to so decides to partake while simultaneously dolling out your punishment.

A/N: we love a little emotional vulnerability between enemies <3

Warnings: reader being a bit cruel to Azzie, basically a sex club, orgies, face sitting, pussy eating, exhibitionism, voyeurism, threesome fmf, femdom in parts, miscommunication which leads to slight dubcon but gets sorted out, some queer vibes (it’s June, what do you expect from me?), angst, 7.2k words

“Fuck off, Shadowsinger,” you snarl up at him as he bars the doorway. “I know how to handle myself.”

He doesn’t budge.

“Gods, why do you have to be such a dick? This is why the rest of the camp despises your filthy blood,” you growl, crossing your arms indignantly across your chest, wings twitching at your back. “What’s even the point of staying in a town like this if I’m not able to go out?” His brow narrows, “I’ll let you off your leash when you prove to be trustworthy.”

You snarl at the metaphor, hands balling into fists at your side. “So, what? I’m just expected to sit here while you go out and do whatever questionable things you came here to do?” You snap, brows narrowing in a scathing scowl. “That’s it,” he replies. Despite his unreadable expression, his voice is dripping with condescension. The kind he uses whenever it’s just the two of you and your twin’s out of the picture. “Now are you going to follow my instructions without hassle, or am I going to have to leave my shadows at the door?”

He’s such a dick. A piece of shit scum-bag.

“I don’t think you’re giving me a choice here,” you scowl, anger bubbling away beneath your skin. A glint of smug arrogance crosses his neutral gaze, “you didn’t bring a book to pass the time?” He delights in the furious flush that heats your cheeks. And after you’d assumed you’d both be tiptoeing around the events of your last trip.

Your gaze skips away from his, too embarrassed to focus on hurling abuse his way. “I’m not making the same mistake twice,” you manage, refolding your arms over your chest. He hums, the sound rough and sonorous. And so, definitely, self-satisfied. “Then I suggest you keep from making another mistake, and stay put.” You can hear the conceited drawl to his voice clear as day. How long is he going to hold that over you? Probably as long as he can, you think, miserably. You would were your positions switched.

Seething, you spin on your feet, stalking over to one of the beds before you take a seat atop it, legs crisscrossing as you keep your back to him. He lets you hear as he turns, about to leave, but not before you throw him a taunting look over your shoulder, “not going to take your things with you?”

Azriel stops in the doorway, brow narrowing as he looks over at you. Watch it. The gaze says. He doesn’t have to speak the words for you to read the message loud and clear. You hold his eyes, challenge glittering in their depths, and you can sense he’s just as eager as you for a spark to catch, a reason to unleash his silver-tipped tongue. Maybe more.

But he knows his responsibilities, so leaves it at that. The door shuts behind him, shadows dancing beneath the wood long after he’s left, suggesting he’s left them on guard. It doesn’t occur to you it might be for your own safety, rather than as a preventative for your escape. It doesn’t occur to you that scaling down the tavern’s wall well past sundown will invite nothing but trouble.

————

You’re sure you’ve been wandering the streets for hours, feet getting a little sore from refusing to take the bastard’s advice to bring proper walking boots - out of pure spite. But the town’s pretty, fae lights decorating every street with a pleasantly warm glow you’re unaccustomed to. It’s a jarring change compared to the sharp ice of Windhaven.

A group of females stumbles past you, loud, warm laughter drawing your attention as they tipsily sway their way along the street. You’re stunned at their skimpy clothes, small strips of fabric lacing over their pristine bodies, wearing shoes that are accented with sharp points on the heel. So promiscuous.

You turn, following after the group, smoothly blending into their small party as they move toward a cleaner looking establishment to the one you’d escaped from. Among the bright, sparkling colours and slips of fabric, you stick out like a sore thumb, yet the group seems a little too far gone to notice their additional member as they enter the luxurious looking building.

The inside is scented with a smokey but floral flavour, something resembling morning fog rolling thick across the floor. It worries you at first, but the group of females seem unperturbed, so you take it to be fine. Then they’re pushing through two large doors, framed with elegant - and shockingly lewd - carvings.

What on this realm have you found?

The entrance reveals an astonishingly large room that seems to ooze obscenity: beautiful paintings decorate the walls depicting various erotic acts, stunning marble figures set throughout the hall, Fae engaging in pornographic activities together. Naturally, you’ve read about these immoral rooms, yet to be confronted with the reality of one is a whole new flavour of debauchery.

You’ve hardly stepped foot in the feasting hall, dripping with satyric opportunity, when a large hand is biting into your shoulder. You tear your eyes from the licentious display, only to be met with icy hazel. You freeze when you recognise the Shadowsinger’s cold demeanour, displeasure subtly lining his expression as he drags you from the hall, back to the streets.

“Get off me you brute!” You snarl, jerking your wrist from him once the night air smacks some sense into you. It takes a little while longer to rid your mind of the heady scent of arousal that had been coating the air, turning it thick until you could taste it on your tongue. He turns, and you know he’s furious with you. He’s just perfect at concealing his rage.

“I gave you one simple instruction,” he growls.

Almost perfect.

You scowl, “I believe that’s your fault for having lax security measures. How are you going to monitor the door, but not the window, you dumb mutt?” Your mind is still a little hazy from the smoke, but you attempt to lock your eyes on his.

It’s then he looks at you properly. His brow narrows as he moves closer, and you instinctively take a step back but those damned shadows are bracing your hips, keeping you still as he prowls forward. He moves like he’s about to touch you, hands moving for your jaw when he jerks back, nostrils flaring, nose wrinkling. Your brow furrows, “what?”

His expression neutralises but you can make out the slight grimace. You’re confused, until you lift the fabric of your top to your nose, inhaling. A cough bursts from your throat at the harshness of the scent, sharp and arousing. “Mother above,” you curse. Azriel smacks your hand away, making the material drop back against your skin, “stop inhaling more of it.”

Under any other circumstances, you would curse at him, spit out something obscene, but you’re too foggy at the moment, “what is it? It’s so…”

“Sharp? Tangy?” He suggests, practically glaring at you with distain.

“…messy.” The male’s brow narrows, seemingly muttering something to himself before he’s turning, moving down the streets. “You stumbled straight into a pleasure hall, what did you expect?” You flush at the crude words coming from his irritably eloquent mouth. “I did not stumble,” you insist, moving after him when his shadows push you into motion. “You most certainly did. There was hardly an ounce of awareness in you mind at what you were doing. You never think,” he growls.

“That’s rich coming from you,” you snarl, catching up with him, scampering to get slightly ahead of his hard pace. He spares you a heated glare from the edge of his cool hazel eyes but continues on his path. You grit your teeth as he ignores you, speeding your pace until you’re set in front of him, “you know, since you’re the one who lost his cool last time,” you snap, jabbing your finger out.

His shadows curl around your waist, tugging you out of his way as he refuses to slow, completely set on his path, eyes straight ahead.

Your jaw drops open as he tosses you aside, disregarding you entirely. Fury surges in your gut as you steady yourself after being so unceremoniously tossed away. You steel your spine as you spin on your feet, turning to storm back into the streets, away from him.

No sooner do you take a determined step away from him, his shadows snag around your waist, harshly tugging you to follow him. You gasp as they squeeze a little too tightly, a little too suddenly, shoving the air from your lungs. Desperately, you scrabble for escape, fingers trying to wriggle beneath the darkness but they just faze through.

“Shadowsinger,” you snarl, attempting to dig your heels into the ground but he drags you forward mercilessly. You push forward, storming to catch the back of his ankle, aiming for the seem of his boot but he side-steps, moving and capturing your wrist. He tugs you against him harshly, glaring down at you beneath a narrowed brow.

“You’re being an asshole,” you snarl, now that he’s finally giving you attention. “Considering the moment you sneak out you’re looking to fuck the night away, I think I was right to have you stay in,” he growls back at you, hand tightening painfully around your wrist. “I was just looking around! You’re making it out to be something it’s not,” you snap, continuing to try to pull out of his dominating grip. “Please,” he drawls, as he jerks you closer, your body pressing firmly against his own, “you looked like you were ready to jump into the lap of the first male you saw.”

Your eyes widen, “I did not!” Heat flushes your cheeks and you want to shrink away from him but he holds fast. Your lip curls back from your teeth, pushing back against him, refusing to be overpowered, until you’re practically sharing breath. “You’re just like all the other Illyrians,” you growl, tipping your chin so you’re glaring him in the eyes, “you can’t bare the idea of a female with agency. Having a will of her own.”

His eyes darken into frozen blades of ice, “I have no problem with females having autonomy. It’s you that’s the issue.”

“Like I’ll believe a single word that comes out of your stupid mouth,” you scoff, feeling that familiar heat of aggression rising for him. His fist tightens, forcing a wince out of you but you refuse to step back.

Azriel’s words are lethally soft as he gazes down at you, “you’re saying, had I not intervened, you would have turned from the pleasure hall?” He expects you to deny the accusation for the sake of the argument, to at least flush at the reminder. But instead you shove yourself against him, so he can feel the soft push of your breasts against his chest as you snarl, “I would do no such thing.”

You tilt your chin, staring him down menacingly, “I would have spent the night enjoying myself, rather than being cooped up in that dull room with only you for pitiful company.” Tension winds and coils around his bones, tightening like rope suspending a counterweight. “I do not believe you were calling my company pitiful when you had your legs spread for me like a desperate whore.” You push up onto your tiptoes, breasts dragging deliciously over his chest until your mouth is brushing his, “you pounced the first chance you got, Shadowsinger, so who’s the real whore between us?”

The fight you put up is mouth-watering. It’s a rare delight he gets to partake in. Seldom does he allow himself this loose, but your aggression is so appetising, the mere suggestion of confrontation a luxury he normally refuses to indulge in. But it’s so irresistibly decadent, the fire you bring to him to feed off, how is he expected to endure you?

He doesn’t.

His hand snakes round your waist, pulling your hips tight against his own, “do you wish to put that to the test?” He can practically feel the thrum of your heartbeat at the sinister suggestion. He knows you’re going to stumble straight into his trap, unable to resist his temptation. It’s much more enjoyable if he can manipulate you into giving into him, convincing yourself that it’s of your own volition you’re crawling to his will.

“What do you have in mind?”

————

You hadn’t expected him to lead you back to the pleasure hall, hand circled tight around your wrist, shadows twining up your forearm. You hadn’t expected him to drag you into the midst of hedonism, nor for him to be the one to push away your clothes. And most of all, you hadn’t expected him to back away once you were left in your underclothes, a charmingly wicked grin dancing over his mouth. “Let’s see how quickly you lose yourself, shall we?” And then he had blended away into the synchronised thrum of beautifully carved fae bodies, swept away in the rhythmic flow of seducing depravity.

Now you’re left, seemingly entirely alone, caught between the frames of revelling creatures, enjoying themselves in ways you haven’t had the chance to even think up. Before you know it, you’re being swept away, hands landing on the sweep of your hips as a body presses against your back, between your wings. A hot mouth is opening over your throat, kissing up the side of your neck, stopping beneath your jaw to nose at your scent.

The heady arousal that’s fogging the air whisks away your defences, even your instincts are crumbling beneath the sinful beat of movement. The lessons you’ve been taught since birth - wings like yours are sacred, gifted only to the Illyrians, nothing is to touch them. Burn to ash. Because it feels good.

A male body is pressing against your front, large hands folding around your waist, pulling your clothes hips against his bare ones, something hard poking against your middle. A slight wave of horror laps at the back of your mind but is easily overpowered by the obscenity that’s taking over you. His mouth is opening over yours, the body at your back moving so your breasts are pressed flush against the male’s chest. He groans, and the sound pleases you.

… your legs spread…

…like a desperate whore…

Shit.

You’re not supposed to be getting so swept up in the intimate touches. You’re supposed to be proving to him that you can keep your head. Even when confronted with such mouth-watering amorousness.

Slowly, you bring your hands to trail up his vaguely muscled arms, slopping over his shoulders as he releases yet another sinful sound over your lips. Your fingers slide up the back of his neck, slinking their way through his intriguingly light-coloured hair. Fascinating. But you can admire later, instead, you grip the gilded locks, nails scraping against his skin. The male hisses, nipping your lips, so you loosen your hold ever so slightly. His tongue flicks out, lapping over your mouth pleasurably. There we go.

The fae at your back has stopped, their hands sloping down your waist to the fabric clinging to your hips, their fingers tracing soft patterns over your delicate skin. They’re watching.

You pull the male’s mouth from your own, tipping his head back until you have unobstructed access to his throat. It surprises you, how easily this male is willing to submit, given a few sharp tugs to his golden hair. It’s intriguing. Certainly no male you’re aware of would ever dream of following the movements of a female. The power is addicting.

Revelling in your new found supremacy, you attach your mouth to the column of his neck, mouth opening over a pulse point as you nip and suck over the unmarked skin. The male moans, his hands pulling you tighter against him, hips bucking against yours. You pull at his hair, giving him a warning to keep still and you’re rewarded with a delicious whimper, teeth scraping across his delicate, creamy skin.

A second sharp tug has him collapsing to his knees before you, and you nearly preen at his obedience. Is this what he felt when you were played before him? A shiver of startling pleasure zaps across your skin at the idea of Azriel kneeling for you. Your breaths become shallow at the prospect of having him on his knees.

The male’s hands stroke over another’s, the fae at your back dipping their fingers beneath the fabric concealing you from them. Then they’re both utilising their hands to push away the material until it’s discarded on the floor. The male moans, hands sliding up the backs of your thighs as he tries to pull you closer to him.

The second set of hands glide over your stomach, running upward until they come to cup your breasts. It’s then you bother to look at their hands: they’re soft, and dark. You’ve never seen skin so black before, yet it’s coating the fingers of the fae behind you, and suddenly you’re yearning to see them.

You attempt to turn your head to peak at them, the male at your feet pressing adoring kisses to your thighs, littering you with soft nips and licks. They push more against your back and you freeze as you feel the recognisable push of a full chest. Female. You release the male’s hair in favour of snaking back, finding the harsh line of her jaw, sloping around the back of her neck as she lets you look.

She’s beautiful. Sharp dark eyes watching you intently as you drink her in. Her hair is a glorious mess of curls, so thick you wish to tangle your fingers in it; pull her closer. Set your mouth over her full ones.

You blink.

She’s female. You’re female. It’s not right. That’s not how it works.

Your brow dips, studying her sharp features. It’s not how it works, but she’s touching you as a lover would. She’s beautiful and she’s setting her pretty hands on you. And it feels good. Your gaze drops to her mouth again, this time looking with analytical curiosity. You’re taking too long.

Her hand curves around you from the other side, tilting your jaw as her mouth opens over your own, lapping and devouring hungrily. A whimper claws from your throat in surprise at the softness of her, from her lips to her hands to her breasts pushing against your lowered wings. Her fingers flick over your nipples and you keen, submitting to her when her tongue runs across the seam of your lips. There’s no way for you to deny her.

You want more.

She pulls away, eyes locking on yours. “Lie down.” She’s staring you down but her words are directed at the male, who pulls away, dropping further to the floor until he’s laying, vulnerable, on his back. You wonder if it’s comfortable.

“Why don’t you put him out of his misery?” The words brush softly over your lips, her breath catching with your own, heady arousal slinking around and filling your senses. She pushes you forward gently, and you follow. You sink down atop the male, shifting so he can loop his arms beneath your thighs as you suspend yourself above his mouth. He whines, nipping your skin again.

You’re too busy watching the female as she prowls around you. Your wings are raised, wary as she positions herself atop a table, spreading her legs. Your thoughts eddy to a stop as your eyes latch onto her sex, slick with wetness, dark curls decorating her skin. Her scent hits you full force, your eyes rolling.

“Come here,” she orders, softly, hand reaching for you. And you lean into her, allowing her fingers to tangle in your hair as she pulls you closer to her heat, your eyes widening marginally as you’re confronted with the reality of your situation. You’re seated atop a male - a willing one - both of you following the instructions of a female.

It’s all backwards.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen.

The male’s supposed to be in charge. Not the one at the bottom of the food chain.

“Don’t stop until I tell you,” the female breathes softly, fingers tightening in your hair. “Now settle down.” You sink down onto the males mouth the same time she wraps her legs over your shoulders, pulling you into her wet heat.

————

Azriel’s been enjoying himself, indulging in the abundance of sexuality that’s flooding the pleasure hall, leaving you to your own devices. He’s sure you’ll leave should it become too much. Besides, your confidence could use being knocked down a peg or two so he doesn’t have to put up with your bratty attitude.

A tendril of pleasure curls at the base of his spine at the thought of finding you, sucked dry from the night. He’s certain this’ll shut you up.

He scans the writhing bodies for your form, hinting for a pair of wings. His brow dips when he fails to locate you. Sighing to himself he raises from the chaise longue, the female that had attended to him already slinking off to find another source of pleasure. The heavy fog of arousal in the air hinders his concentration as he scans again.

The hall is too packed for him to resort to his shadows, not wishing to cause a panic. He’ll just have to use his more traditional methods.

His eyes catch on a loose circle forming in the centre of the room, Fae crowding around as touching becomes more frenetic, cartloads by something. He decides you can wait, curiosity drawing him in as he approaches the circle. Azriel stops short when his eyes land on a familiar set of wings, momentarily shocked by the sight.

You’re seated atop a male’s mouth, one of his arms wrapped snuggly over your hips, keeping you pressed against him while his free hand pleasures himself. You’re winding your hips languidly over him, clearly enjoying the pleasure of his tongue as it laps at your entrance. A dark-skinned female is sat atop a large, ornate table, lewd carvings etched up it’s legs, her hand threaded firmly in your hair as she keeps you tight to her cunt.

Inexplicable arousal sparks in his abdomen, his cock twitching at the sight. The way you’re kneeling, thighs spread, wings relaxed in obvious submission as your tongue laps fervently between the female’s legs, burying your face into her desperately.

The female’s hand tightens, your back curving, drawing attention to your ass as appreciative moans ring throughout the hall in response. The impact is incredible, his cock already hard as he thinks about what you would do if he interrupted you, let you know what he’s seen. Would you flush? Would you beg him not to tell anyone? Would you get down on your knees as you plead for him not to take advantage of you?

He can’t tear his eyes away as the female drags one of her feet over your back, dangerously close to your wings. So close that Azriel’s automatically fold inward, as if she’s a threat to his own sensitive skin. He watches, fascinated, as you don’t pull away. You don’t even flinch, too submersed in her heat to care.

Your wings twitch as she makes contact, brushing over the bone. He can tell she’s enjoying herself, having most likely never had an Illyrian before. She’s close, and bringing to the peak with her, uncaring for the male you’re seated on. His breath catches as she repeats the action, wings shuddering as your shoulders go taut before losing their tension, suddenly pressing deeper into her heat as she moans. Her own breathing stutters at the action, back arching as her thighs spread wider before tightening, pulling you closer as she bucks her pretty hips against you.

Azriel watches, fixated, as you’re allowed to pull away from her, the female’s elegant hand snaking beneath your jaw as she urges you upward. You follow, managing to stand as she hails your mouth to hers. And the flame is relit. Your mouth is sloping over hers as your hands roam her body, going from her waist to snake behind her back, to brushing over the plump curve of her ass.

Arousal spikes in his blood as your hands cup her ass, squeezing as you press yourself between her thighs. Her own hands are pulling you closer, allowing you to push her down onto the table as your mouth dances over her own. Your arms brace either side of her as your tongue laps over her own, dropping down to open over her neck, sucking and biting at the dark skin until it bruises.

The circle has dispersed a little now that the climax has been reached, a few bystanders still watching hungrily, but their eyes are glazed with lust, so he doubts they’ll be too alarmed at his shadows. They writhe forward through the fog, curling up your thigh as the tighten. He’s pleased when your instinctive reaction to the silky darkness is to buck your hips against hers, as if you’re desperate to be inside of her.

Your head rises, her own arms locked around your neck, as you look around, focusing in on the cool brush of his darkness. He feels your breath catch as you locate him, marking how your wings flare ever so slightly, curling your body over the female’s. It’s a subtle gesture or possessiveness, claiming her as your own, despite it being juxtaposed by the hedonistic surroundings.

He cocks a brow mockingly, beckoning you away, the signal it’s time to leave; that the challenge’s over. Your eyes clear slightly, but the female’s legs tighten around your waist, vying for attention. Her eyes lock on his, flicking between the two. She seems to recognise the acknowledging glance you give him, her legs loosening from your body, knowing it’s your time to leave. Your gaze flicks to hers as she releases you, arms moving to brace herself on the table instead.

She knows which fights to pick.

————

“What the hel was that for?” You snap as you follow after him, reluctant leaving your female. His gaze skims to yours, “it’s late.”

“You’re hard.” A shadows wraps over your hips, licking between your thighs. He doesn’t miss a beat. “You’re wet.” You flush, glaring at him, “I just had a male between my thighs. What’s your excuse, Shadowsinger?” You’re fully aware as his icy gaze slides to you, hairs standing on end as his eyes narrow. “I just watched you go down on a female like it’s the best damned thing that’s happened to you.” Your brow narrows at his words, the blatant insinuation he’d dropped without so much as blinking.

“Yeah,” you mutter, heat rising to your cheeks, “she was.”

You hope he’ll leave it at that.

Of course he doesn’t.

“Looks like between the two of us, you’re definitely more of the whore.” You scowl, fire seating in your stomach. “That’s not fair. I didn’t see what you were doing. You could have been panting and pleading for someone.” You nearly added an unnecessary and exposing, too, on the end. He laughs, oblivious to your private confession. “That would be something.”

Your eyes flick to his, looking him over through your peripherals.

“Would you ever do that for me?”

“You’d have to work very hard to get me on my knees.” He responds easily, male arrogance dripping from him. “So it’s not out of the question.” You push, attempting to gauge his reaction. You’re stunned when he rolls his eyes. It’s something you’ve seen Ed do a thousand times, and it’s shockingly normal. Familiar.

“It’s as likely to happen as if the tables were reversed,” he replies instead, eyes sliding to yours, catching you watching. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You snap, irritably. It’s so late. The edges of his mouth kick up into a devious smirk, “would you ever willingly lower yourself for me?” He’s delighted when your lip curls, relieved by the familiarity that you’re falling back into. “Fuck no.”

He grins, “then there’s your answer.”

He doesn’t know that at the beginning of the night, you would have given the same answer had you been asked whether you would ever fuck a female, yet here you are, wanting a second taste.

No, you keep that to yourself.

————

Your thoughts have been swirling for the past few hours, and you sweat the room’s getting lighter already.

‘Lie down.’

She’s ringing through you your ears, your mind replaying her over and over.

‘Why don’t you put him out of his misery?’

The soft push of her breasts against your wings. Gods, she had touched your wings. And you’d let her. Enjoyed it.

‘Come here.’

You shove your face further into the pillow.

Shit.

There’s no way for you to get yourself out of this one.

You lift your head, glancing across the room to where the Shadowsinger lies. His shadows stand out even in the near pitch darkness, softly lapping in gently undulating sways. His eyes are closed, breaths deceptively even. You wonder if he’s actually asleep or not. Whether, were you going to stab him, should he wake easily.

“Something on your mind, whore?”

Despite the softness of the drawl, you startle, muscles tensing as his sharp eyes slide open. Wide awake in an instant. Your brow narrows at him in a hateful glare, “don’t call me that.” You can practically hear the taunting grin that slides up the edges of his mouth, “isn’t that what you are? A whorish exhibitionist? A rakish harlot who derives pleasure from having her mouth between the legs of a fe—”

“Don’t.” He stops, watching you. Your head is raised from the pillow, all your attention set on him. He heard the slight tremor in your vocal chords. The waver. He delights in it.

“What would your father think?” He drinks in your reaction: the absolute stillness of your wings, the tension in your shoulders, the stiff set of your jaw. All of you freezes.

It’s not enough. He wants to see your head bow in shame. “What would Edvard think?” Your hands ball into fists, eyelids trembling as you struggle against his piercing gaze. “Leave him out of this,” you manage, but the words are strained. Azriel raised an eyebrow, making to settle down into his pillow, “who knows, maybe he has similar tastes.”

He’s rewarded by the sound of your feet on the wooden floor, stalking over to his bed. “You say what you like about me, Shadowsinger. But keep his name out of your filthy mouth.”

He doesn’t bother to open his eyes, his shadows doing the job perfectly for him. “Shadowsinger,” you hiss, stepping closer to his bed, so you’re standing over him. “I’m fucking talking to you,” you growl, quiet fury coating your words. This time, his eyes open, sliding awake with awareness, piercing up at you. You still.

The male moves with languid lethality as he raises from the bed, settling his feet securely on the floor as he unfolds to his full height. It’s only now you’re aware of his shadows that have crept up from the ground, locking you in place. “An awful lot of fire coming from someone so weak,” he murmurs, the words slicing through the air like blades of ice. A dark energy thrums throughout the room, skittering silently across the floorboards. “You were out of line,” you growl, keeping your ground.

He laughs, the sound lacking amusement. “I was out of line?” You don’t deign him with a reply. His lips settle into a bland line, practiced neutrality rolling across his features, “and what can you do about that? Really?” You open your mouth but he leans down, his shadows constricting around your torso, “aside from clumsily hurling your blunt words around like a child with a wooden blade.” Your lips part in surprise.

What can you do?

You’d never really considered he would ever attempt to do anything.

“You’ll get in trouble if you hurt me,” you warn, pressing against his shadows as his wings slowly slide open, branching out from his powerful form. There’s no amusement in his eyes as he speaks, “do you honestly believe you’re the first to treat me as a stain of dirt?” You try to hold your ground but he’s shifted, cold hazel sharp in the night air.

His brow narrows. Answer me. The gesture says. “No.” The word escapes your mouth before you have a chance to resist, following his order instinctively. Azriel leans closer, invading your space as his shadows coil tighter, squeezing you for breath. “How do you think they ended?” He asks softly, steel slicing down your spine.

“What?” You breathe, voice lilting with fear.

“I’m asking how you think I killed them,” he murmurs, eyes slicing you open, carving you out. “You—…” Words don’t come to you. His shadows constrict, another silent demand. Answer me. “I don’t know,” you stammer, tongue heavy in your mouth, bloated.

He leans closer, mouth so close to your own. You try to shrink away. His shadows twine higher, slowly snaking over your collar bones, hugging to your neck. “Would you like to?” You feel the words brush over your lips, but ashy hazel is encompassing your vision. A blade catches the silver glint of moonlight over his back.

��Azr—” you gasp, hands lifting to your throat, “I can’t—” His shadows curl tighter, squeezing. “Breathe—” your eyes are wide, nails scraping over the soft flesh of your neck as they faze through the darkness.

Then they’re gone. You gulp down lungfuls of cool, burning air. You stumble backward, legs giving out as you crash to the floor, hand still cupping your throat as you scramble away from him. “You bastard,” you rasp, scuttling away until your wings are pressed to the wood of your bed. “Filthy, vile, beast.”

You panic when he steps forward, completely silent, eyes trained on you as you scrabble up onto your bed, shuffling until you’re against the wall. “Stay there,” you rasp, pushing backward, shrinking into the darkness as he prowls closer. “Stay there, shadowsinger,” you hiss, curling into yourself as memories flood over you. Running from a towering figure through the darkened streets, breath tearing raggedly from your lungs as your hunter pursues you with large, striding steps. How they gained on you, closer and closer, tighter and tighter.

A shadow snakes around your ankle and you jerk, racing back down into your body. You’re met with hazel, staring down at you.

You’re half lying down, braced on your elbows, knees bent and parted. Azriel arms are either side of you, caging you beneath him on the bed, resting above you, barely a breaths width between your mouths. His brow is almost imperceptibly dipped, mouth set in that same bland line as before.

Nerves fire all at once as instincts slam into you, curling up as you shove your foot just inside the bone of his hip, kicking back at him with all your force. His hands tighten in the bed, keeping him where he is, completely immovable despite how hard you’re pushing. “Get off me you brute,” you snarl up at him, and you’re certain he can feel each word.

His upper lip twitches in a suppressed curl, the first sign he’s given you that he’s actually in there. Darkness twines up your leg, squeezing viciously. If he reaches your throat, you’re gone. How the hel are you supposed to guard against them? They were straight out of a nightmare, no way to fight except to match him or run.

You remember when you were younger, you used to have nightmares a lot. All revolving around running tirelessly, running from something looming at your back, stalking close behind as it swept closer. Ed used to tell you to try to stop running, to turn around and look at what was chasing you. He used to say if you were ever scared of a monster, turn around and blow it a big kiss.

If he was going to use his shadows, you were going to weaponise yourself.

His darkness winds over your hips, covering you in a lethal blanket of night.

You sharply pull your foot away from his hip, the sudden lack of force providing a fraction of a second for you to snake your arms around his shoulders, crushing your mouth against his. The muscles in his arms turn to stone as your legs spread, wrapping around his hips, pulling him flush against you.

His lip curls, mouth opening to snarl down at you, but your hands thread through his silky hair, fisting as you pull him down. You arch your back, thighs squeezing him closer as your breasts press flush against him, tongue shoving into him as you switch the playing fields.

You’re startled when his hips roll against yours, pushing you into the bed as his mouth shoves back against your own, tongue lapping out over your lips as his teeth nip and bite. You swallow down a moan as his hips force your legs apart, pinning you to the bed as he sweeps in, hand looping beneath your head to tangle in your hair.

The two of you pull back for breath, and you’re panting, startled by the abrupt turn from nightmare to fever dream.

His eyes flash as he pulls further away, standing at the edge of your bed, hands dropping to the ties in his leathers. You hiss when his shadows tangle in your hair, mimicking the feeling of his fist, jerking your head back as you’re forced upright. You hate it when he uses the tendrils of darkness to malehandle you into whatever suits his tastes. It’s degrading.

“Stop squeezing so tight,” you snap. His lips curl as they tighten, making you wince, before they loosen again. His hand replaces them, tugging you uncomfortably. “Come on, whore,” he drawls softly, eyes sharp and menacing, “put that mouth to good use.”

Humiliating heat flushes your cheeks as your eyes drop to his crotch. He’s set the ties loose, but left it for you to actually pull him out. To put your hands on him. You swallow, shame crawling beneath your skin but he keeps your head so he can see your expressions. He revels in your degradation, heat seating inside as he watches your shaky hands raise to the ties.

Your digits fumble at first, trembling too much as they attempt to pull the strings loose. He observes intently as your slim fingers work work the bonds free, slowly. Reluctantly. It’s only when you’ve finished with the strings that your gaze raises to his, hands trembling as they settle on his leathers. His brow narrows.

“If I do this…” your words are muted, hushed. He stills. “…you won’t tell anyone. What I did, I mean.” His gaze hardens, staring down at you with an indecipherable look. You swallow, humiliating heat rushing to your cheeks, “if I—,” you swallow again, lower lip trembling. “If I let you use my mouth,” you stammer, quietly, “you won’t tell anyone, that I let a…female…use it.”

Your scent hits him then, horror kicking him in the gut as the sharp tang of fear shoves it’s way up his nostrils. His hand releases your hair as if he’s been burnt. He steps back, faltering. Your eyes flick to his, scared at his movements. Nausea roils in his gut. He almost—

He doesn’t think about it.

Your hands are frozen, suspended from where they had been placed, before dropping to your lap as you attempt to hide the tremors. Somehow he manages to steel his voice, “if you do not want to do something,” he starts, not a hitch to be found, “you tell me so.” You blink your eyes, fingers wringing together in your lap.

Now he’s aware of it, it’s obvious. Your blown out pupils, the shakiness to your lower lip, your fumbling hands. Dear Gods.

“Huh?” You peer up at him, wings tucking tight behind you, shuddering for an entirely different set of reasons than when they had been in the pleasure hall. The sound is small to his ears, soft and scared. How much damage had he just inflicted upon you from not being aware. From getting caught up in his anger for your kind.

You trace the roll of his throat, the air having shifted. “I was not planning on reporting back to your father,” he speaks, the words dull against your ears. “I would not force you to—,” your breath catches, fingers tensing, “…do that.”

A muscle feathers in your jaw, eyes darting away from his, head bowing in shame. It doesn’t illicit a pleasured response as he had thought. “Why not?” Disgust crawls in his stomach at the question, noting how your finger are tracing your throat. “You made it clear you have no qualms involving yourself in immoral acts.” The soft rasp of your voice grates against his senses. He did that.

“Crossing lines does not mean you forget them.”

“You seemed pretty content to do just that when you tried to strangle me.”

His expression hardens. He refuses to apologise for that. “So you’re going to tell me it wasn’t deserved?” You freeze, then resume breathing. “What do you expect, Shadowsinger? You’re the scum of the war camp. A bastard and a torturer.”

Your eyes lift to his and he’s taken aback by their depth, the superficial hatred you wield against him having collapsed into a broken spiral of conflict and repression. “You think I would be treated favourably if I sided with you?” He takes in your admission, trying to decipher your tangle of words, attempting to reconcile them against your past actions. “You’re a brute, but I don’t believe you to be stupid.”

Possibly the most free-spoken you’ve been around him.

“Your brother doesn’t have a problem with us.” Bastards.

“He is male. He is allowed to make those mistakes,” you reply, pinning him beneath your loathing gaze. “I am not afforded that luxury.” He can see fatigue swirling in the darkness of your eyes. How many times have you had those words repeated back to you? How many arguments had been sparked within your own family and how many of those battles had you lost simply because you don’t know any different.

Your gaze slips away from his, sensing he’s seen something he’s not supposed to. “I will not begrudge him of the opportunities he’s extended solely for being born into the stronger sex. But I cannot act upon them myself.”

That familiar rage burns inside of him as he witnesses already how deep the roots run. How the Illyrian ideologies have already been enforced firmly, carved into your mind from an early age. The icy flame sears, scorches as he takes you in: a near perfect archetype of everything he hates about Illyria.

“Even so,” Azriel speaks, his words firm, “I will not turn a blind eye to your cruel nature. No matter what reasons your actions are born from.” He expects a rebuke, to have you attempt to slice him apart with your bladed lexicon.

“That’s fine.” He finds your eyes latching onto his, a thread of recognition connecting you for the span of a second.

“Just don’t try to murder me for keeping myself safe.”

Maybe there’s more to your surface level bitterness than he thought.

Taglist: @myheartfollower

#Azriel #His (Mine.)#Azriel smut #Azriel angst #Azriel x reader #Azriel x bratty!reader #acotar #Shadowsinger #Filthy Mongrel #[*]#Azriel[*]

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 11 months ago

Note

Aita for assuming my coworker is a toxic partner?

I, 22M, work in a big chain restaurant with a bunch of people my age. Recently, one of the bussers who’s been at this branch since it opened two years ago (I’m a relatively newer higher but not by much, just not og staff) turned 19 and revealed that he has started dating one of the other servers that he’s been friends with for a while, let’s call the two of them Busboy (19 ftm), and Server (21 MtNB)

I’ve got nothing wrong with Busboy. He’s a hard worker, a little odd sometimes, and he’s been with our location for a long time. He and Server are both original staff members and the two have done a lot together, especially after Busboy turned 18 in December of 2022. Server set up Busboy’s first tattoo appointment, they go to the movies all the time, and at work they keep things friendly but professional. Honestly, we all kinda thought they were already dating before Busboy told everyone

Recently, Server got fired because of a stupid management rule about tables that walk out without paying. It sucked, but Server wasn’t really the best waiter anyways and there wasn’t really any lost love. Another waiter, let’s call him Closer (24M), and his wife (23F) have started hosting game nights at their apartment with Closer’s sister and some of her friends. As far as I know, Busboy and Server have been frequent attendants and tbh it looks like a lot of fun. Closer sent a general invite to the work group chat and me and some other coworkers decided to head over tonight

When we got there, it was fine at first. We were mixing drinks (no drinks for Closer’s wife since she’s pregnant or Busboy since he’s underaged) and playing games when I see Busboy take Server’s drink from them and tell them to stop drinking. Server sort of nodded real small like and I don’t know, it set off an alarm bell in my head. To paint a picture, Busboy is a fit young white guy even if he doesn’t pass that well while Server is a fat Mexican person with a lot of acne and stuff like that. Busboy’s also been known to cite his alleged disabilities to get out of work from time to time and he’s picky when ordering around the other bussers at work. Regardless of him being a Trainer, it’s just off putting yk?

I keep watching them before I asked Server if they wanted to be on my team for a card game we all wanted to play. Server looked to Busboy for permission and Busboy gave me a strange look before slowly agreeing. When Server and I were off by ourselves, I asked them if everything was okay. They didn’t really give me an answer, just sort of shrugged and said that it wasn’t anything I can do. Can you see where I’m going with this?

While we played the game, Busboy got very loud and obnoxious, saying inside jokes that only he, Closer and Server would know from when they opened our restaurant location, frequently interrupted my team and chastised me for offering Server some of my lemondrop drink, saying: “can’t you see that they clearly don’t want any?”

And here’s where I may be the asshole, I said: “How about you shut up and ask him what he wants?”

I know, I misgendered Server on accident, and I corrected myself in the moment, but the room went silent and Busboy got really confused and said: “But i did?”

I asked him: “When? They’ve spent all night stuck to your side, it looks like you’ve got them on a leash.”

Closer made an inappropriate joke to lighten the mood, but Busboy looked really confused and kept asking everyone if that’s what it looked like. I said: “yeah, it does. [Server], what do you want to do?”

Server said; “I don’t know, man, what are we upset about?”

But when I tried to explain that Busboy was acting really suspicious all night, everyone started telling me that I was wrong and that this wasn’t true, that Busboy’s always like this. It didn’t make any sense to me! I asked if Busboy always micromanages how Server drinks and Closer said; “no, but it’s [Server]’s turn to drive the two of them home. Usually [Busboy] drives and it’s a long drive, but today they’re in [Server]’s car.”

I ended up leaving pretty soon after and I feel really silly about the whole thing. So, tumblr, Aita?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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ellswritings · 2 months ago

Text

Lunatic 1x08

Episode 9

Life has definitely improved for Fallon. The dangerous night in the school didn’t have any long-lasting impacts on her leg, so now she has her cast off. Michael was relieved to know that she wouldn’t need to have it on any longer than necessary. Unfortunately, he did get more strict after that night. She thought she was on a tight leash before, but now she can only go somewhere if there’s confirmation by Melissa or Noah that Stiles or Scott will be there. Hence why she’s now in the woods, following after the two boys, freckles having a large bottle of Jack Daniel’s in his hand.

None of their parents know they left Stiles’ house… but what they don’t know won’t hurt them. They’re all working tonight anyway.

Life was slowly returning to normal, or at least some version of it. She tries to interject in the conversation the two are having ahead of her, but her mind has been too preoccupied with something the last couple of days. Derek Hale. She doesn’t know what happened to him, if he’s truly dead, where he is if he’s not. When she left the school with her father, the only thing she could think about was his Camaro and who would take it. She was tempted, but it would be nearly impossible to hide a whole vehicle from her father.

She grins as Stiles almost begins to slip, the golden liquid in the bottle sloshing around. Each side of the glass gets touched by the Tennessee whiskey, making the bottle itself look more murky than it actually is. How the boy managed to snag a bottle of liquor, Fallon wouldn’t know, she also wouldn’t ask. She was kind of relieved that he brought it. She knows that they’re there to help Scott feel better, but letting loose for the evening would do her some good too.

Fallon runs to catch up with the two, slinging her arms around their shoulders as they walk through the preserve. “Where are we going?” She asks Stiles curiously. “And how much of that are we actually gonna drink?” She questions. “Because if you stole it from your dad, it’s probably not a good idea to drink more than a quarter of it.”

“I am not answering either of those questions.”

Fallon snickers, accepting his secrecy. If he wants to risk getting himself in trouble with Noah, then she’s not going to stop him. Scott’s posture is slouched, hands dug deep into his pockets as he glances at his friends. “We really shouldn’t be out here. My mom is in a constant state of freak-out from what happened at the school.”

Stiles scoffs, waving the whiskey around in the air, “Well, your mom isn’t the sheriff, okay? There’s no comparison, trust me.”

“Okay, you both have got it way easier than you like to pretend to,” Fallon points out. “My dad literally won’t let me leave the house after dark. I can barely leave during the day unless I’m going to school. And he won’t let me out of his sight unless one of your parents tells him I’ll be with one of you at your house for the night,” she lists off her restrictions. “Meanwhile, you have a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and your dad thinks we’re at his place watching a movie.” She sends Stiles a pointed look. “Doesn’t seem too overwhelming to me.”

“Shut up,” Stiles shoves her arm off of him and into Scott. The latter laughs at Stiles’ reaction to Fallon’s words.

“Can you at least tell us what we’re doing out here?” Scott requests.

“Yes!” Stiles nods. “When one your best friends gets dumped–”

“I didn’t get dumped,” Scott interrupts, suddenly getting defensive. “We’re taking a break.”

“So were Rachel and Ross,” Fallon teases with a smirk. “Trust me on this, breaks are never just breaks. The only break there is, is a break-up.”

Fallon’s never been one to believe in the benefits of “taking a break.” She doesn’t deny that it probably works for some couples, but in her opinion, all it is is just a less harsh term for the reality of the situation. A break-up. It allows both parties to live in a fantasy world where they’ll wait for one another until they improve themselves. When that’s never actually the case. Perhaps she’s this cynical because she’s never been in love, and her opinion could be based on nothing but bitter seventeen-year-old thoughts. But until she’s proven wrong, she’s going to stick with her negativity.

“No–”

“All right,” Stiles stops the conversation before Scott gets upset and storms off. “Well, when your best friend gets told by his girlfriend that they’re taking a break…” he lifts the bottle in the air, “you get your best friend drunk.”

Stiles stops in the middle of a clearing, a small rock sitting in the dead center. The tree branches whistle in the wind creating a calming atmosphere for the three. The breeze feels nice on Fallon’s skin as she plops down in the leaves next to Stiles. She immediately leans back, staring up at the sky. As usual, her eyes were drawn to the moon. The harsh reality of the full moon being tomorrow hits her like a truck when she notices the waxing gibbous hanging beautifully above them. She briefly glances at Scott, the same frown he’s had on his face since getting in the jeep still present. She hopes it’s more to do with Allison than his impending face-off with the man in the moon.

Stiles pops the lid off of the liquor and takes a satisfying swig. The whiskey bounces around, the amber color almost matching the small flecks in Stiles’ eyes. She watches as he cringes slightly as the liquid burns his throat, but she can tell by the small smile on his face that he likes it. He holds it out towards Fallon and Scott for them to have some. His grins drops slightly when he notices Scott not making any effort to take the bottle. Fallon wasn’t planning on drinking too much due to not wanting a hangover, but the things she does for Stiles. She makes grabby hands, carefully taking the bottle of whiskey and throwing it back like it’s nothing. Scott and Stiles watch with wide eyes, not expecting her to let loose like that. They’ve seen her drink before but only very little at social gatherings.

Being friends with Lydia and Jackson as well as being one of the best players on the lacrosse team came with things like parties and drinking. Fallon didn’t have an addiction or anything of the sorts, she knows when to drink and when not to and she always does it responsibly. Her first time drinking taught her that lesson. She crashed in Jackson’s backyard on a lawn chair. The next morning she woke up with a gnarly hangover, a terrible case of cottonmouth, and a plethora of mosquito bites. So now when she engages with any form of alcohol, she doesn’t do it to get drunk. Just a slight buzz.

She enjoyed the warmth the whiskey provided her. She likes the burning sensation it leaves as it cascades down her throat, pooling in her stomach. She wipes a drop off the corner of her mouth, licking the excess off her finger before handing it back to Stiles.

The pale boy once again tries to offer the liquor to Scott, but he silently shakes his head in response. Stiles scoffs, taking another large sip before laying down next to Fallon. “Y’know you are sitting here with a giant bottle of Jack Daniel’s, which we got for free by the way, and your two best friends. One of which is a hot female who has apparently kissed you. This is like any teenage boy's wet dream,” he rambles off, the small amount of whiskey he’s had already making him tipsy.

Scott looks at Fallon in shock, “You told him?”

She huffs, “Well– I– yeah…” she shrugs. “It wasn’t that big of a deal. And plus, when I told him, I thought he’d be able to keep it to himself, but I guess I was wrong.” She glares over at Stiles who’s too busy taking another drink to worry about her being mad.

“If anyone should be upset, it’s me,” Stiles puts his finger in the air to emphasize his point. “I’m the only one here who hasn’t been kissed by Fallon.”

“You’re the only other person here,” the brunette points out. “I’m not walking around kissing myself, Stiles. And it’s not like it happened more than once.”

“Well, I haven’t even gotten it once.”

“I already offered to kiss you!” She exclaims, taking the bottle out of his hand. She’s gonna need a lot more alcohol if she’s going to be able to keep up with drunk Stiles. “If you wanna cash that favor in now, I’ll be happy to fulfill my end.”

“Wait, you told him you would kiss him as a favor?” Scott furrows his eyebrows.

“Don't worry about it,” Fallon waves off, gulping down some more of the spicy liquid.

“No,” Stiles denies with an overdramatic shake of his head. “I’m gonna wait. It’s gonna be the perfect moment where you’ve completely forgotten about it when I cash that sucker in.”

“Great,” she holds the amber liquor in the air, nonverbally saying cheers to his statement before throwing her head back to coat her throat once more. “Looking forward to it.”

“Good,” Stiles adds. “And I’m expecting all the works. So you better always have that watermelon chapstick on hand,” he turns on his side to face her. “I want a whole fruit explosion.”

Fallon pauses for a moment. Her eyes soften when looking at him, “You know what kind of chapstick I use?”

The only reason this impacts her so strongly is that he asked what chapstick Lydia wore because he didn’t know before. But somehow he knows hers. How could he know Fallon’s but have no clue about the girl who is his total obsession.

Stiles shifts in his spot, sensing the sincere shift in the atmosphere. He scoffs out a laugh, taking the bottle back from her, “Uh, yeah,�� he shrugs like it’s no big deal. “You apply it like every five minutes. It’s either that or raspberry.”

She knows that’s not true, and by the way he sucks down a good chunk of the bottle, he knows it too. But she’s not going to say anything, and Scott’s too depressed about Allison to worry about the odd moment shared between his two friends.

A couple minutes pass by, the three of them just enjoying each other's company. In that time, they managed to convince Scott to take a drink, but it doesn’t seem to be phasing him like it usually does. Scott isn’t necessarily a lightweight like the spaz head next to them, but he doesn’t have a tolerance like Fallon does either. Even then, she’s starting to border the line between tipsy and drunk as well and the bottle is only halfway gone.

At this point, Fallon’s head is resting comfortably on Stiles’ stomach, the boy running his hands through Fallon’s hair. The softness of her locks feels relaxing on his fingers. He looks up at Scott who hasn’t cheered up at all since being here. “Dude, you know... she's just one... one girl. You know, there are so many... there are so many other girls in the sea…” he mumbles drunkenly.

Scott sighs at his incapacitated friend, “Fish in the sea.” He corrects.

Stiles giggles, “Fish?” He asks, confused. “Why you talking about fish? I'm talking about girls. I love girls. I love ‘em. I love especially ones with strawberry blonde hair, green eyes, five-foot-three…”

“Like Lydia?” Scott says, not needing to do much to figure that one out.

“Yeah, exactly!” Stiles exclaims happily until his face falls with puzzlement. “Hey, how did you know what I was talking about… about…” He squints his eyes, “What was I talking about?”

Fallon flips on her stomach and off of Stiles when she notices Scott’s state. She holds the bottle up to him, “You’re not happy, Scotty. Take a drink. It’ll take the edge off.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t want anymore,” he denies moodily.

“Okay,” she smiles at him brightly. “No means no, and we don’t peer pressure here,” she giggles before slapping her hand over her mouth. She stares at the bottle, slowly pushing it away from her so she doesn’t try to drink anymore. As soon as she starts giggling, that’s when it’s time to stop. The next phase is confusing her rights from her lefts and that’s the last thing she wants to do when sitting in the middle of the woods.

“You’re not drunk?” Stiles wonders.

Scott shakes his head, “I’m not anything.”

“That’s very dark,” Fallon frowns. “You are something, Scotty.” She scoots closer to him, laying her head on his lap now. “You’re our best friend, and if Allison is too blind to see that you were trying to save her, then she doesn’t deserve you.”

Scott wants to defend Allison, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He looks at Fallon, and he doesn’t know how, but he can sense the protectiveness wafting off of her. He can feel how much she wants to keep his heart safe. He then takes Stiles’ job, lightly playing with her hair. She closes her eyes and hums, enjoying the feeling of her hair being messed with.

“Hey, maybe it's like... maybe it's like not needing your inhaler anymore, you know? Maybe you can't get drunk as a wolf?” Stiles says, pursing his lips. “Am I drunk?”

“You’re wasted.”

“Yeah!” Fallon rubs Scott’s words into Stiles’ face, reminding the former of a toddler.

“You’re just as bad,” Scott informs her, making the girl pout.

She defiantly shakes her head, “Nuh uh. I can still tell my rights from my lefts,” she then proceeds to raise her left hand when saying right and her right hand when saying left. “See?”

Scott’s lips form in a tight line, “That’s your right hand, Fall. Not your left.”

Her triumphant expression fades, “Damn it,” she grumbles, laying back down on Scott’s legs.

“Come on, dude. I know it feels bad. I know it hurts. I know.” He pauses before realizing his lack of knowledge on the subject area. “...Well, I don't know.” Fallon starts giggling as he continues, “But I know this-- I know that as much as being broken up hurts, being alone is way worse.”

The brunette girl hiccups, still trying to contain her chuckles. “That didn’t make any sense.”

“I need a drink!” Stiles exclaims, rolling over to reach the whiskey. But it was yanked away by a foreign hand before Stiles could even grab it.

“Well, look at the three little bitches getting their drink on.”

Fallon goes to stand up, suddenly much more sober than she was three seconds ago. “What did you just say?”

Scott is quick to pull her back down, the men laughing at her tenacity. “Would you look at that, Unger? Little princess here’s got teeth.”

Scott glares at the two of them, nodding at the bottle. “Give it back,” he demands firmly.

“What’s that little man?” The one they just learned was named Unger says.

“I think he wants a drink,” his friend responds, amused.

“I want the bottle,” Scott responds, his voice steady.

Stiles sits up nervously, pulling Fallon closer to him to keep her safe, “Scott, maybe we should just go…”

Scott glowers at the two older men, “You brought me here to get drunk, Stiles. I’m not drunk yet.” The man holding the bottle scoffs, taking a drink of the whiskey. Scott moves closer to them, “Give me the bottle.” His head tilts down a bit and that’s when Fallon sees a glimpse of yellow in his eyes. A small growl erupts from his throat, “Give me the bottle of Jack.”

She taps Stiles, “He’s wolfing out,” she whispers. “We need to go. Now.”

His fangs slowly start to poke out from his upper lip, the sideburns growing in on the side of his face. They both watch as he digs his claws into his hands, low snarls leaving his mouth. Stiles goes to stand up, “Scott…” he warns.

The man holding the bottle shakes as he doesn’t understand what is going on with the teen in front of him. He fearfully hands Scott the bottle who rips it out of his hand, chucking it across the clearing and smashing it against a tree. The two men take off in the other direction, mumbling things about how the three of them are crazy. Technically they’re not wrong. But the three friends haven’t been sane since they met each other.

Scott starts walking off, Stiles and Fallon following behind him. “Okay, please tell me that’s because of the breakup… Or ‘cause tomorrow’s the full moon…?” He suggests.

Scott opens the back door to the jeep, Stiles walking in front of him. “Going home now, yeah?” Scott nods allowing Stiles to collapse into the backseat, promptly passing out.

Fallon sighs, “Let’s get out of here.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Getting to school the next day was a struggle for Fallon. Her father continuously asked if she really thought she was ready to go back. It’s not that she didn’t mind staying home and recuperating, but she would eventually go stir crazy if she couldn't get out for at least a couple of hours. Besides, now that she has her cast off, she can’t wait to get back to playing lacrosse again.

She heads towards Mr. Harris’s class, internally cringing at the fact there’s a huge test today. When she walks in, she watches as the man menacingly places the tests down on each table. Allison is sitting in the front row, an empty seat next to her. Fallon decides to take the spot, sending the dark haired girl a small smile.

“Hey,” she greets quietly.

“Hi,” Allison smiles, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “How are you feeling after, y’know…” She gestures with her hands to indicate the night before.

“I’m okay,” Fallon answers kindly, turning to face the girl fully. “How are you? I know you were pretty freaked out after Scott left and everything.”

“I was,” she admits with a nod. “But I think I’m good now. By the way, I’m really sorry for being kind of snappy with you during the whole thing.”

Fallon shakes her head, “You weren’t. You were scared, which is completely reasonable,” she reaches over and squeezes Allison’s hand reassuringly. “I don’t blame you. We were all pretty scared.”

“Well, I could definitely use a girls night after all of that,” Allison grins at her. “Maybe some facials and therapy shopping. Would you wanna come with me and Lydia?” She asks hopefully.

“Absolutely,” Fallon nods. “That sounds great.”

Once Harris places a test in front of her, she turns her attention back towards her desk. The last thing she needs is Harris yelling at her for talking. Stiles walks in not long after, sliding a lollipop onto Fallon’s desk, his own hanging out of his mouth. She smiles when she notices its cotton candy flavor. He winks at her and she shakes her head, unwrapping the candy and popping it in her mouth. A few moments later is when Scott walks in, looking completely distraught when he sees Allison. The brunette puts a hand in front of her face as a way of shielding herself from the upcoming awkward conversation.

Thankfully, Mr. Harris asks Scott to sit down before a fight could break out. She lets out a breath of relief before opening the first page of the test booklet. Their teacher moves to the front of the classroom, the same displeased look on his face that he always wears. “You have forty-five minutes to complete the test. Twenty-five percent of your grade can be earned right now simply by writing your name on the cover of the blue book.” Fallon takes that as her cue to write her name. “However, as happens every year, one of you will inexplicably fail to put your name on the cover, and I'll be left yet again questioning my decision to ever become a teacher. So, let's get the disappointment over with. Begin!”

1) An increase in imports of consumer goods is most likely to have been caused by a:

A) Fall in exchange rate.

B) Rise in household saving.

C) Rise in household income.

D) Fall in unemployment

Fallon thinks back to the notes she took in her economics class. The only logical answer would be C. When household income rises, people generally have more disposable income to spend on goods, including imported consumer goods. This increase in purchasing power can lead to an increase in imports. She cracks her neck as she moves to read the next question.

2. Which one of the following statements about price mechanism is correct?

A) Price mechanism is the point which equalibriates supply and demand within a market.

B) Price mechanism allows the price of goods to be decided by supply and demand.

C) Price mechanism formulates fair prices of goods or services according to supply and demand.

The correct answer is B. This statement accurately describes how the price mechanism operates in a market economy because prices are determined by the interaction of supply and demand, without any direct interference from external forces like government control. She circles it with ease before moving onto the next question.

The girl doesn’t even realize how quickly she’s flying through the test until she’s on the third page. She notices Stiles who’s a row over and one seat behind her clicking his pen in a particular pattern which she recognizes. They came up with a system for multiple choice tests where if one of them was struggling, they’d click the pen the amount of times the question number was. Then the person giving the answer would subtly hold up the amount of fingers for which answer it is. He clicks the pen eight times causing Fallon to hold up three fingers for letter c).

She holds her head in her hand, flipping to the fourth page. The brunette only has the backside of the packet to go before she’s officially done. That’ll give her a solid almost thirty minutes to read her book. Hopefully Harris doesn’t make her sit back down for finishing the test in less than twenty minutes.

Fallon sighs, reading the last question boredly. With one final swoop of her pencil, she finishes the test. As she’s about to stand up and turn it in, Scott shoots up from his seat with his backpack and darts out of the room. Her eyes widen in surprise before grabbing all of her stuff, dropping her test off in front of Harris and chasing after her best friend. Stiles follows closely behind, leaving his own test u finished. Their teacher calls out for them and demands them to come back, but it’s far too late.

“Scott?” Fallon yells for the boy. Her and Stiles glance around the hallway, stopping when they see his backpack just sitting in the middle of the walkway. They walk over to it, Stiles picking it up.

“Scott?” Stiles tries, turning his head every which way.

“Let me call him,” Fallon mutters, pulling out her phone as she presses Scott’s contact information. Her phone rings as she and Stiles try to carefully listen for Scott’s ringtone. They hear the faint sound coming from the boys locker room. When they walk in, they hear the water running in one of the showers. The girl sighs, throwing her head back, “Why do you guys always have to come here when you’re having a crisis?”

Stiles shrugs, not knowing the answer to the question. The duo treks forward carefully, an eerie feeling coming over them. With the full moon being tonight, they are both half expecting to see a wolfed out Scott ready to kill them once again. But once they make it to the back, all they see is their best friend breaking down. He’s standing under the shower head, half naked, gasping for air that never seems to reach his lungs.

Scott turns to them, panting heavily, “I can’t– I can’t–” he points to his chest, trying to communicate his needs.

“What’s happening?” Stiles asks anxiously. “Are you changing?”

“No,” he wheezes. “No, I can’t breathe,” he says, sliding down the shower wall.

This is when Fallon flies into protective mode. She yanks Scott’s backpack off of Stiles, rummaging through it to find his inhaler. The only other time she’s seen him like this is when he’s having an asthma attack, but she knows it’s not his asthma. From the looks of it, she wants to assume it’s a panic attack. Hopefully though with a puff from his inhaler, it’ll manage to calm him down.

She kneels down in front of him, ignoring her knees getting wet from the floor below. She shakes the inhaler and puts it to his lips, puffing it into his mouth. Thankfully, it manages to calm his breathing as his chest stops heaving so aggressively.

Scott looks up at them confused, “I was having an asthma attack?” He asks incredulously.

“No,” Fallon sighs, sitting down next to him. “You were having a panic attack.”

Stiles nods, “But thinking you were having an asthma attack actually stopped the panic attack,” he explains. “Irony…”

“How did you know to do that?” Scott glances at Fallon.

The brunette hugs her knees to her chest, briefly looking at Stiles. She shrugs softly, “Used to get ‘em after my mom died, especially when I had to move to a new place right after. Stiles used to get them a lot too.”

“Why do you think we started the Saturday night sleepovers when we were kids?” Stiles brings up. “It gave us a way to stick together on the weekends when we couldn’t see each other at school.”

“It got easier to not have a panic attack when we were with each other,” she says softly. “They're not fun, huh?”

Scott leans his head against the cold shower tile, “I looked at her, and it was like someone hit me in the ribs with a hammer.”

“Yeah,” Stiles nods. “It’s called heartbreak– about two billion songs written about it.”

“I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“Yeah, and you probably won’t for a while,” Fallon says truthfully. “That’s usually how these kinds of things go.”

“Well, you could think about this– her dad's a Werewolf Hunter, and you're a Werewolf, so it was bound to become an issue…” Both Scott and Fallon give him a ‘really’ look making Stiles shift awkwardly. “That wasn’t helpful.” He sighs, crouching down to get closer to his two friends, “Dude, I mean, yeah. You got dumped. It’s supposed to suck.”

“No, that's not it,” Scott denies. “It was like I could feel everything in the room– everyone else's emotions.”

“It’s gotta be the full moon,” Fallon says, rubbing his back. “We’re still gonna stick with the plan we talked about and lock you up in your room later. That way the Alpha–”

“Who’s your boss,” Stiles adds, cutting Fallon off.

She rolls her eyes but finishes her sentence regardless, “Can’t get to you.”

“I think we need to do a lot more than just lock me in my room.”

“What? Why?” Fallon furrows her eyebrows.

“You mean because if you get out, you’d be caught by hunters?” Stiles asks, also trying to understand what he means.

No… Because if I get out… I think I might kill someone.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

One of the only times Fallon is allowed in the boys locker room is when Coach calls a meeting. Truthfully, it’s not even when she’s “allowed,” it’s just when she forces herself to go in there so he doesn’t yell at her for insubordination. It’s happened before. She sits down on the bench next to Scott and Stiles, adjusting her pads underneath the uniform as Coach comes out of his office.

“All right, geniuses, listen up! Due to the recent pink-eye epidemic– thank you, Greenberg– the following people have made first line on a probationary basis– emphasis on the word probationary.” He looks down at the clipboard as he starts to list off all the names, “Rodriguez. Welcome to first line. Taylor, and, uh…” he squints as if he can’t read the name in front of him. “Oh, for the love of crap, I can't even read my own writing. What is that, an S?” Stiles leans forward excitedly. “No, no, that's not an S. That's a-that's a-that's a B. It's definitely a B. Uh, Rodriguez, Taylor, and, uh... Bilinski.”

Stiles’ head shoots up as he hears a version of his last name. He shoots up from his seat, banging on his chest and howling like a monkey. Fallon slouched down, covering her face with her hand to prevent herself from laughing out loud.

“Bilinski,” Coach narrows his eyes, making Stiles stop.

“Yes?”

“Shut up,” the man commands causing everyone in the room to snicker.

“Yes, sir,” Stiles salutes, slowly sitting down so he doesn’t do anything else to jeopardize his new position on the team.

“Stiles,” Fallon tries to talk to him.

“It’s Biles,” he tells her with the most serious expression on his face. “Call me Biles or I swear to God, I’ll kill you.”

Her lips form into a thin line as she nods, “Got it. Biles Bilinski it is.”

“Another thing–” Coach gets their attention once more. “From here on out, immediately, we're switching to co-captains. And since Donovan keeps refusing, we’ll give it to our next star player. Congratulations, McCall!”

Fallon and Stiles seem to be the only ones who are happy about the news. The rest of the team doesn’t even look a little bit congratulatory on Scott’s new promotion. Fallon pats his back encouragingly. She definitely would rather have Scott as co-captain rather than herself.

Jackson storms over to Coach, “What?” He snaps, not taking his new shared position very lightly.

“What do you mean, "what?" Coach shrugs. “Jackson, this takes nothing away from you. This is about combining separate strengths into one unit. This is about taking your unit, McCall's unit... we're making one big unit. McCall, it's you and Jackson now! Everybody else?” He blows his whistle loudly. Asses on the field! Asses on the field!

Fallon, Scott, and Stiles all grab their gear and get ready to head outside. Stiles seems a lot more excited than Scott which confuses the girl as he did just earn a very coveted position.

“Dude, can you believe this? You're a captain, I'm first line. I'm first-freaking-line!”

“Told you you could do it,” Fallon bumps his side. “Even if it is on a probationary basis.”

He points his lanky finger at her, “Do not ruin this for me.”

They push the door to the hallway open, walking out together. They ignore the angry stares from Jackson, not allowing him to ruin the victory for them. Stiles notices Scott’s lack of enthusiasm and frowns, “Are you not freaking out? I’m freaking out.”

“What’s the point?” Scott snaps irritably, making Fallon’s eyebrows go up into her hairline. “It’s just a stupid title. And I could practically smell the jealousy in there.”

“Wait, you smell jealousy?” Stiles asks, intrigued.

“Yeah,” the boy nods. “It’s like the full moon’s turned everything up to ten.”

“Are you sure you’re up for practice, Scotty?” Fallon asks worriedly. “We can always tell Coach that you threw up or something and I’m sure he’ll excuse you.”

“I’m fine,” he grumbles. “Don’t worry about it.”

That’s not going to happen. Telling Fallon not to worry is like telling Stiles not to ramble. Besides with what’s at stake, controlling her worrying tendencies is going to be much more difficult. He confessed less than five hours ago that he would kill someone if they didn’t lock him up. So seeing his brooding demeanor sets off some alarm bells.

“Anyway, back to the whole smelling jealousy thing,” Stiles says with a clear agenda. “Does that mean you can pick up on stuff, like, I don’t know… desire?”

Scott frowns, turning to his male best friend, “What do you mean, desire?”

“Like, sexual desire.”

“Sexual desire?” Scott furrows his eyebrows confused.

Stiles sighs exasperatedly, “Yeah, sexual desire! Lust, passion… arousal.”

“I swear to God, I am gonna smack you,” Fallon narrows her eyes at him. “Please stop talking.”

“Don’t act like you’re not curious!” Stiles shoots back.

“Let me guess… from Lydia?” Scott says unamused.

Stiles pretends he’s appalled by the accusation, “What? No, in general, broad sense– can you determine sexual desire?” He tries to play off.

“From Lydia to you,” Fallon adds.

Stiles throws his hands up, “Fine! Yes, from Lydia to me.” Both Scott and Fallon look away from the boy, a wide array of disappointment and annoyance on their faces. Stiles grabs Scott’s shoulder, “Look, I need to know if I have a chance with this girl, okay? I’ve been obsessing over her since the third freakin’ grade.”

“Why don’t you just ask her?” Scott suggests sassily.

“Well, to save myself utterly crushing humiliation. Thank you, Scott. Okay? So, please, can you just go up and ask her if she likes me? See if her heartbeat rises, pheromones come out…”

“Fine,” Scott practically growls before walking away from his two friends with a miserable look on his face. Stiles is too thrilled by Scott agreeing to ask Lydia about her feelings for the boy to notice the shift in their friend's tone. Something’s off and Fallon doesn’t like it.

“We need to follow him,” Fallon says as she watches Scott walk into an empty classroom with Lydia.

“Wha– Why?” Stiles looks at her incredulously. “We can just meet him out on the field.”

“There’s something about the way he just walked off,” she mutters. “I don’t think we should trust him alone in a room with her right now. The full moon seems to be really messing with him.”

“I’m not worried about it,” Stiles shrugs off. “You can follow him if you want, but I just made first line and I’m not gonna give Coach a reason to take it away.” With that, Stiles takes off leaving the brunette in the hallway.

She can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong about this whole situation. Call it best friend’s intuition, but she sneakily walks up to the closed door to the classroom. What she sees is normal for the most part. Lydia is sitting on the desk, staring at Scott as he asks his question. But the question is clearly not what Stiles had originally wanted Scott to do as the boy hunches over and wraps his arms around Lydia’s waist. Fallon gasps, jumping away from the door as she watches the two of them kiss.

“Damn it, Scott,” she grumbles frustratedly, knowing that there’s no way she can keep this from Stiles.

Making her way out to the lacrosse field, Fallon’s fury rises with every step. How could Scott do that to Stiles? He was supposed to go in there to ask if Lydia had feelings for Stiles. Not make out with her. Lydia is also still with Jackson. She loves Scott, but he is an absolute idiot at times.

“Something wrong?” Stiles asks her as she slides down on the bench, grabbing her helmet roughly from her bag.

She sighs, keeping her head hung low. If she tells him, he’ll be pissed at Scott. If she doesn’t tell him, he’ll be pissed at her later when he finds out she knew and didn’t say anything. The girl internally groans before looking back at the boy. “He kissed her,” she blurts out, not wanting to beat around the bush.

Stiles looks taken aback, “Who kissed who?”

“Scott kissed Lydia,” she explains. “And it wasn’t like a little peck either. It was like full on frenching,” she shakes her head in disgust. “I knew something was wrong with him.”

Stiles pauses, “No,” he shakes his head. “No, Scott wouldn’t do that.”

“Stiles, I saw it,” Fallon scoffs. “With my own two eyes.”

“Then you saw wrong,” he tells her defensively. “There’s no way Scott would do that when I just asked him to see if she likes me.”

“You’re seriously not gonna believe me?” The girl looks at him, feeling slightly wounded by his denial. “I was there, Stiles. Why would I lie about something like this?”

“I don’t know,” he throws his hands up. “Because you’ve always been cynical about love, maybe? You’ve been telling me to get over Lydia since forever. Maybe this is your way of trying to get me to do it sooner because you can’t find someone you like for yourself. So you want me to be miserable with you.”

Fallon flinches at his harsh words. She knows he’s only snapping because he’s aware deep down that she’s telling the truth. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less. Stiles’ face falls when he sees the hurt expression on hers. “Fallon–”

“Don’t.” She stops him, putting her hand up. She slides her helmet over her head silently. “I may be cynical Stiles, but I’m not a liar. I know what I saw. But you can live in whatever fantasy world you want to. Not my problem.”

The boy huffs loudly as he watches her walk off. He didn’t mean anything he just said. He knows the reason she’s not a big love fan is because of her own parents. She limits her belief in true love to her story books simply because her mom and dad had that fairytale romance. They met, instantly hated each other, and then managed to fall in love along the way. According to Michael, the two’s first kiss was standing in the rain outside of a bookstore in London after a big blowout argument. They had one beautiful daughter, and they were all happy. Until one day, Grace left Fallon with her grandmother while Michael was at the military base he was assigned to. Grace left and never came back. They found out later that she had driven herself off a cliff. No explanation, no note, not even a body. That’s when Fallon’s view on love shattered. Because the most beautiful love story she’s ever witnessed broke within an instant. All the happiness, all the memories, gone.

Fallon holds back the tears that threaten to spill from her eyes, putting all of her energy into practice. She’s trying not to be angry with Stiles, but it’s getting harder every time his words ring in her ears. She’s not miserable. She just doesn’t need someone else to make her happy.

The girl gets in line as Coach blows his whistle. She’s the first one there and the man claps, “All right, Donovan! Start us off right. Go out there and kill ‘em, okay?!”

She silently nods as he blows the whistle again. She scoops the ball up smoothly, dodging the boys blocking the goalie. She twists and turns effortlessly as she usually does, shoulder checking the guy on her left roughly, knocking him to the floor. She reaches the goal, faking Danny out by pretending she’s going to shoot right before quickly pivoting on her feet to aim left. The ball slides into the net perfectly earning a round of applause from Coach and the guys standing on the sidelines. Fallon runs over to stand with the group that’s already completed the exercise.

Jackson gives her a once over, “That was some aggressive playing, Donovan. Something on your mind?” He asks almost patronizingly.

“Don't make me castrate you, Jackson,” she threatens lowly. “I’m not in the mood.”

The blonde tilts his head, “What’s wrong?” His tone sounds actually genuine for once.

Fallon looks up at him. She feels an urge to just spill her guts, but after everything he’s said and done these past few weeks, she holds back. “Nothing,” the brunette shrugs. “Just a bad day, I guess.”

When she looks out to the field, Scott’s the next one up. Coach shouts “Let’s go,” before making his whistle chirp loudly again. Watching Scott was like waiting for a bomb to go off. He runs forward but is immediately knocked down by one of the guards. Everyone on the side laughs at his misfortune. Coach bends down to Scott’s level, “Guess some people don’t appreciate your new status there, McCall.” He stands up, ending his taunting before looking back at the remaining line of players. “Who’s next? Let’s go!”

Coach glances at Stiles who’s next in line, “All right, you’re up big boy! Let’s go!” Stiles nods and gets in position to start running, but is stopped by Scott pushing him backwards with his own lacrosse stick. The angry teen takes Stiles’ spot, getting ready to go again. Coach cheers for him, “That’s it, McCall! That’s the spirit! You earn it! Earn it, McCall!”

Fallon watches nervously as Scott charges forward with a newfound vigor. He slams into the two opposing players, knocking them a few feet away from him. Her heart drops when she sees him go after Danny, smacking the goalie’s helmet with his lacrosse stick and practically shoving him out of the way. Danny hits the ground hard, causing the rest of the team to run to his aid. Scott stands off to the side, ripping his helmet off angrily.

Fallon storms over to him, pushing his chest lightly, “What the hell is wrong with you?” She snaps.

“He’s twice the size of me,” Scott says just as snippily. He grabs her wrists and roughly pushes them away.

The brunette glares at him, “So much for being team captain, huh?” She scoffs. “Leaders don’t act like that.”

“I don’t care,” he rolls his eyes, turning away from her as Stiles comes running up to them. “At least I had the guts to actually take the position,” he says snidely.

Without putting much thought into her next movements, Fallon surges forward and tackles Scott to the ground. She wraps her arm around his neck, putting him in a chokehold which ends up earning the attention of everyone else on the field. “I didn’t take the position–” she grunts as she holds him in place, “Because I didn’t want to deal with assholes like you.” She releases him from her grip, but only because Stiles started pulling her away. She shoves Stiles’ hands off of her before shoulder checking him as she walks off, “Don’t touch me.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Pulling up to the McCall house was a difficult decision for Fallon to make. After everything that happened between the three of them at school, she wasn’t really sure if she wanted to help either of them. Unfortunately, their many years of friendship won out the internal battle she was having in her head. Plus, she couldn’t leave Stiles alone with Scott. Not when he’s acting like a complete menace.

She jumps off her bike and is met with the loud rickety noises of Roscoe. Stiles looks surprised when he gets out of the jeep and sees her waiting by the door. He slings the black duffle bag over his shoulder and walks up to her. “You came…” he says softly.

“Yeah,” she nods stiffly. “I did.”

Stiles sighs, “Fallon, I–”

“It’s fine, Stiles,” she brushes off, trying to keep her emotions at bay. “I already know you didn’t mean it.”

“It’s not fine,” the boy argues. “What I said to you was not fine. It was mean and rude and I literally wanted to punch myself in the face right after I said it,” he rambles. “Look, I should’ve believed you. I know he did it. I guess I just didn’t want to believe it,” he looks down at his feet, suddenly finding the cracks in the pavement very interesting. “I’m really sorry, Fall. And I understand if you hate me and everything, but I still love you and I don’t want to fight with you anymore.” His amber eyes finally meet hers again, “When you pushed me away at the end of practice… I freakin’ hated it. I can’t stand the thought of you doing that again.”

After listening to his monologue, Fallon mulls over his words. She can hear the sincerity in his voice. The girl sighs, pushing herself off the wall and wrapping her arms around Stiles’ neck. He physically relaxes, looping his own arms around her waist as he holds her tightly. “You’re forgiven,” she mumbles. “Let’s see if Scott decides to take the apologetic approach, shall we?”

Stiles slides his key into the lock on the front door. She wanted to ask when he had that made and why, but figured it was because the last time when they snuck in through the window, Melissa almost beat them to death with a bat. When they walk in they hear said woman call out for her son, “Scott?” She rounds the corner and jumps in surprise when the shaggy haired teen is not who just walked in.

“Stiles.” The boy grins with a wave.

“Fallon,” the brunette jumps in, finding the whole situation slightly humorous.

The mother’s eyes fall to the golden key in Stiles’ hand, “Key,” she points to it.

Stiles nods obliviously, “Yeah, I had one made so…”

“That does not surprise me,” Melissa admits. “It scares me, but it doesn’t surprise me.”

“He has one for my house too,” Fallon adds nonchalantly. “He just chooses to climb through my window.”

“That also doesn’t surprise me,” she says, shaking her head. That’s when her eyes fall to the large black duffle bag Stiles carried in, “What’s that?”

The two friends share a look, “Uh, school project…” Fallon spits out quickly, patting the bag. She cringes when the quiet sound of metal clanging is heard. Thankfully, Melissa doesn’t seem to question it.

They go to head up the stairs, but Melissa stops them, “Guys… he’s okay, right?” She asks, worried. She senses something’s off with Scott.

Fallon’s heart pangs with sympathy. She smiles softly at the woman, “Yeah. He’s all right.” Although it’s a lie, Melissa doesn’t need to worry about Scott and the supernatural world.

“He just doesn’t talk to me that much anymore,” she admits heartbrokenly. “Not like he used to.”

“Well, he’s had a bit of a rough week…” Stiles tries to come to Scott’s defense.

Melissa nods, “Yeah. Yeah, I get it.” She tries to push down her concerns for her son as she grabs her purse to head to work. “Um, okay. Uh, be careful tonight.”

“You too,” Fallon says as she gets ready to go up the stairs again.

“Full moon.”

Stiles and Fallon whip their heads towards the woman, “What?” They both say simultaneously, completely alarmed.

“There’s a full moon tonight,” she elaborates. “You should see how the ER gets– brings out all the nut jobs. Be grateful you haven’t had to work the nightshirt, Fallon,” she jokes with a small grin.

The girl laughs awkwardly, “Oh. Yeah, yeah, dad tells me some of the crazy stories.”

Melissa nods, “Yeah, he’s gotten some weird cases. You know, it’s um, actually where they came up with the word lunatic.” With that final thought to chew on, Melissa closes the front door, allowing Stiles and Fallon to let out a breath they didn’t even know they were holding.

The two of them finish their journey up the stairs, walking into Scott’s room without much thought. Fallon flicks the lights on as Stiles sets the bag down.

“Oh my God!” Stiles exclaims with a jump.

Fallon turns around, confused by his sudden shout. She jumps up with a yelp when she sees Scott staring at them from the chair in the corner of his room. His expression is completely blank, a certain darkness swirling behind his eyes.

“Dude, you scared the hell out of us!” Stiles tells him. Your mom said you weren’t home yet.”

“I came in through the window,” he says monotonously.

Fallon stays in her spot by the door, keeping her distance from the boy. After what happened between them at the lacrosse field, she doesn’t trust herself to get too close. Besides, she has a better vantage point just in case he tries something.

“Okay. Uh, well, let’s get this set up,” Stiles crouches down to open the bag. “I want you to see what I bought.”

“I’m fine,” Scott’s face is still completely blank. “I’m just gonna lock the door and go to bed early tonight.”

“You sure about that?” Fallon questions, eyes narrowed. “Because you’ve got this crazy look in your eyes that tells me you’re gonna go all serial killer berserk the second we leave you alone.”

“I’m fine,” he all but growls at her. “You guys should go now.”

Stiles can sense the tensions rising, “All right, we’ll leave,” he says calmly. He sends Scott a pleading look, “Well, look, would you just at least look in the bag to see what I brought? You know, maybe you use it, maybe you don’t. Sound good?”

The way Scott walks over to Stiles makes the hairs on Fallon’s neck stand up. She moves from her relaxed position against the wall and takes a step closer to Stiles. The boy subtly reaches back, placing his hand around her ankle to reassure her that he’s fine. Scott doesn’t notice and proceeds to open the duffle bag, pulling out a long chain.

He looks at it with the utmost distaste and hatred, “You think I’m gonna let you two put these on and chain me up like a dog?” He asks, voice low and gravelly.

“Actually, no,” Stiles responds before swiftly bringing out handcuffs he no doubt stole from his dad. He pushes Scott up against the radiator in his room, locking his wrists in the harsh metal. Fallon helps Stiles to his feet as he clambers backwards.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Scott screams at the two of them, grunting as he tries to pull his wrist free.

“Protecting you from yourself…” Stiles answers. “And giving you some payback… For making out with Lydia.”

Fallon places her hand on Stiles’ back. Scott silently pleads with her to help him out and she shrugs with no remorse. “You know how he feels about her and you took advantage of it. Not to mention, you were a dick to me at practice. So don’t expect any sympathy from me.”

“You came at me!” He snarls.

“Because you practically ran over Danny!” She scoffs at his words.

Stiles turns her body so she’s just facing him. He takes her hand in his before escorting her out of the room. She growls under her breath and Stiles huffs, “I know, I know. But this isn’t him.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact I want to push him out of the window,” she glares back at the door to Scott’s window.

“I think I have an idea that might make you feel better,” Stiles smirks. “I’ll be right back.”

He runs downstairs and the girl sits patiently for his return. She glances periodically towards the room, hearing Scott struggle against his restraints. The best friend side of her is telling her to go back in there and let him go, but the angry side of her wants to keep him locked there for the next three full moons.

Stiles climbs back up the stairs, a water bottle in hand, along with… a dog bowl. A wide smile makes its way onto her face. “You wouldn’t…” she whispers daringly.

“Oh I would,” he huffs out with his own smirk. He walks back towards the room, Fallon following behind. “He wants to act like a dog, I’ll treat him like one.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever loved you more, Biles.”

Stiles strolls into the bedroom, hiding the bowl behind his back. “I brought you some water,” he holds the bottle up before smugly pulling the bowl out, pouring the liquid into the container. Fallon has to look away to prevent herself from cackling. Scott simply glares at the two as Stiles sets the bowl down in front of Scott.

Stiles and Fallon go to leave once more but are stopped when a cool substance hits their backs. The dog bowl crashes down at Stiles’ side, “I’m gonna kill both of you!” Scott shouts aggressively.

This makes Stiles snap. He whips around, anger burning behind his eyes. “You kissed her, Scott! Okay? You kissed Lydia. That’s, like, the one girl that I ev–” he sucks in a deep breath. “And, you know, the past three hours, I've been thinking, ‘It's probably just the full moon,’ you know? He doesn't even know what he's doing, and tomorrow, he'll be totally back to normal. He probably won't even remember what a complete dumbass he's been– a son of a bitch, a freaking unbelievable piece of crap friend–”

“She kissed me,” Scott interrupts. And the sad part is, he’s not wrong. When Fallon watched it happen, she came onto him first.

“What?” Stiles’ face falls, making Fallon want to kick Scott’s ass all over again.

“I didn't kiss her– she kissed me,” he reiterates cockily. “She would have done a lot more, too. You should have seen the way she had her hands all over me.”

Stiles tries his best to act unaffected, but she can see the way he’s holding himself back. She’s not sure if he wants to kill Scott himself or cry. Maybe a mix of both.

“She would have done anything I wanted. Anything!”

Stiles clenches his jaw before turning to Fallon, “I’ll be right back,” he whispers before storming out of the room.

Fallon stays in her spot by the door. Her arms are crossed as she leans her entire body weight on the door. A frown is etched on her face as she watches Scott stare her down like she’s a piece of meat. “What?” He asks tauntingly. “Something got you upset, Fall?”

She ignores him. Her expression remains hard as she tries to keep her cool. She doesn’t want to snap at Scott like she did out on the field. He might be losing control, but that doesn’t mean she has to. Fallon keeps her eyes trained on his wrist, making sure he doesn’t try to rip his own hand off to get out.

Scott glares at her, growing more angry by her lack of a reaction. “You're a real piece of work, you know that?” He growls. “You’re really gonna stand there and act like you know what’s best for me?” You’re nothing but a–”

“Careful Scott,” Fallon cuts him off, her voice laced with warning. She’s not going to let him say something he’ll regret later. “You don’t want to finish that sentence.”

He snarls, pulling harder at the chains. “Oh, what are you going to do? Put me in a chokehold again? You got lucky earlier. If Stiles hadn’t been there to pull you off, I would’ve–”

“Would’ve what?” She challenges him, taking a step closer, her chin held high in the air. “You think now that just because you’re all furry and fanged that you’re stronger? It doesn’t change who you are, Scott,” she shakes her head. “It just makes you more of an ass.”

Scott’s eyes flash yellow as a twisted smirk forms on his lips, “You think you’re so tough, Fallon. Acting like you don’t care, like nothing gets to you. But I know you. I know you’re just as scared as the rest of us. That’s why you fight so hard. You’re just trying to prove something.”

She feels a pang in her chest, but she pushes it down, refusing to show any sign of weakness. “Don’t project your issues onto me, Scott. You’re the one who can’t handle what’s happening to you.”

He leans forward, the chains creaking under the pressure. “And what about you, Fallon? When are you going to stop pretending like you’re fine?” He pauses before slicing open a wound he knows will make her bleed out. “We all know what happened to your mom, how she—”

“Shut up!” Fallon snaps, her composure cracking. She takes a step back, her breathing uneven. “You have no right to talk about that.”

Scott laughs, the sound bitter. “Yeah, keep hiding behind your anger. But guess what? It’s not going to bring her back.”

Fallon’s fists clench at her sides. She knows he’s not himself right now, that the full moon is messing with his head, but that doesn’t stop the words from cutting deep. “You’re just saying this because you’re scared and upset that Allison dumped you. You really think hurting me is going to make you feel better?”

Before Scott can respond, the door swings open and Stiles rushes in, his face flushed with panic. “Fallon, don’t listen to him! He’s just trying to get into your head, okay? He’s not himself.”

But Fallon doesn’t move, her eyes locked on Scott’s. “Yeah, I know, Stiles. But that doesn’t make what he’s saying any less real.”

Scott’s eyes flicker for a moment, a brief flash of regret before the anger takes over again. “You think you’re so much better than me, Fallon? You’re just as messed up as the rest of us. You think your mom didn’t know what she was doing? Maybe she couldn’t handle being around you anymore.”

That’s the final straw. Fallon feels like she’s been punched in the gut. She blinks rapidly, fighting the sting of tears. “Screw you, Scott.”

Stiles steps between them, pushing Fallon back gently. “That’s enough, Scott.”

But Scott’s still glaring at her, his eyes wild. “I bet she couldn’t stand you. Who could? You’re always pushing people away. It’s no wonder—”

“Shut up, Scott!” Stiles yells, cutting him off. He turns to Fallon, his voice softer. “You don’t have to stay here. Go get some air. I’ll deal with him.”

Fallon hesitates for a moment, then nods, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. I need to get out of here.” She gives Scott one last look before storming out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

As she walks down the hallway, she takes deep breaths, trying to calm the storm raging inside her. Scott’s words echo in her head, but she forces herself to push them away. She knows it’s just the full moon taking its effect. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon took off from Scott’s house, heading to her own. Thankfully, Michael wasn’t there to ask any questions as to why her face was caked with tears. She walks into her room, grabbing a jacket before storming out of the house. If she gets grounded for being out after dark, so be it. But she needs to go on a walk to clear her head.

Scott’s words replay over and over in her head, the hurt occurring all over again. Her eyes water, causing her to silently curse under her breath as she wiped her cheeks. But the tears just don’t stop coming. She knows she can be a bit stubborn and a hardass at times, but she didn’t think she made a habit of pushing Scott and Stiles away.

Hiding behind her anger was something she tried to steer away from. Her father has told her multiple times that’s a sure fire way to hurt her friends and herself. Her headphones are plugged into her ears, loud music blasting through the buds as she tries to drown out her emotions. She’s not looking forward to having that conversation with Scott when he comes down from the full moon high he’s on.

Her footsteps echo across the sidewalk. She walks past the town grocery store and keeps going. The brunette doesn’t even pay attention to which direction she’s walking in, all she wants to do is just escape for a little while. Normally, she would turn to her books in a time like this, but that would remind her too much of her mother.

Eventually, greenery ends up surrounding her rather than the industrial town. A small sniffle escapes her nose as she wipes the snot off her upper lip with her jacket sleeve. She doesn’t even know how long she’s been crying. Clearly a while since she somehow managed to end up in the woods.

The sound of a twig snapping manages to infiltrate her ears despite the loud music playing. She freezes in her spot, realizing going on a walk late at night, alone, was the dumbest idea she’s ever had. Especially since she didn’t take the time to tell anyone where she was going. She pulled one of the buds out of her ear, analyzing the area around her. She doesn’t see anything at first until a tall shadowy figure appears in the distance. An odd amount of fog conceals the individual's identity. Fallon squints her eyes, trying to determine who it is. Normally, she would’ve taken off and started running in the other direction, but something about the shape of the person seems familiar.

A gasp leaves her lips, “Derek?” She calls out in complete shock. She cringes at her own voice as it sounds raw from crying.

He comes out from behind the fog, his hands in his pockets as per usual with his signature leather jacket. He looks completely fine. No sign of a whole in his body from Alpha claws, or any broken bones from being thrown into a brick wall.

He steps closer to her and she simply stares at him, mouth agape. “You… You’re alive.”

Derek raises an eyebrow, “You sound almost disappointed.”

“No, I’m just—” Fallon stopped herself, realizing how close she was to falling apart. She had always been good at hiding her emotions, at putting up a tough front, but tonight… tonight she felt raw. Exposed. “I thought you were dead, Derek. You just disappeared, and with everything that’s been happening, I…”

She trailed off, her hands clenching into fists as she tried to push down the tears that were threatening to spill over. Derek was watching her closely, his expression softening ever so slightly as he noticed the wetness in her eyes. He took another step closer, close enough now that she could feel the warmth radiating off him, even in the cool night air.

“I’m not that easy to kill,” Derek said, his voice low but steady. There was something almost comforting in the way he said it, as if he was trying to assure her in his own stoic way.

Fallon looked up at him, blinking rapidly to clear her vision. “Yeah, well, you sure as hell looked like it,” she muttered, trying to inject some of her usual sarcasm into the words. But even she could tell it fell flat.

Derek’s gaze softened just a fraction, and he tilted his head, studying her more intently. “Something happened,” he states rather than asking. “With Scott.”

Fallon huffed a laugh, though there was no humor in it. “That obvious, huh?”

“You’ve been crying.” Derek’s voice was blunt, as usual, but there was a note of concern buried in it, so subtle that anyone else might have missed it. But Fallon didn’t.

“Yeah, no duh,” she sniffles, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Are you gonna tell me?” He stands there, patiently waiting for the story.

The tears in her waterline make her eyes glisten under the moon’s pale light. She cranes her neck to look at him. Her chest tightens just thinking about the boy she’s been best friends with since the third grade. “He– he just said some things. Crappy things. But I’m fine,” she assures.

Derek’s expression darkened slightly. “And you let it get to you?”

Fallon’s eyes snapped to his, her stubbornness flaring up despite the pain she was feeling. “I didn’t let it get to me. It just… it was a lot, okay? We fought earlier, and then he said something about my mom, and…” She broke off, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Derek’s jaw tightened. “He shouldn’t have said that.”

“I know,” Fallon replied, her voice barely above a whisper now. “But he did. And I can’t just pretend it didn’t hurt.”

They stood there in silence for a moment, the tension in the air palpable. Fallon was painfully aware of how close Derek was standing, the way his presence seemed to ground her even when everything else felt like it was spiraling out of control. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed him these past few days, how much she’d worried.

“I’m sorry,” Derek said suddenly, the words catching her off guard.

Fallon blinked up at him, not sure she’d heard him right. “For what?”

“For not being around. For letting you think I was dead.” He paused, his gaze intense as he looked down at her. “For not protecting you from this.”

Fallon’s breath hitched at the sincerity in his voice, and she felt something in her chest loosen, just a little. “You’re not responsible for what Scott says, Derek. That’s on him.”

“But you’re part of this now,” Derek countered, his voice firm. “Which means I am responsible for you, whether you like it or not.”

Fallon’s lips twitched into a small, almost sad smile. “Since when do you care about responsibility?”

“Since you almost got yourself killed,” Derek shot back, his tone more heated than she expected. His eyes bored into hers, and for a moment, she saw something there that took her breath away. Fear. Not for himself, but for her. “You need to be more careful, Fallon.”

She opened her mouth to argue, to tell him that she could handle herself just fine, but the words died in her throat. She was tired. Tired of fighting, tired of pretending she was okay when she wasn’t. So instead, she just nodded.

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice gentler than she intended.

Derek’s eyes softened at her response, and for a brief moment, Fallon thought he might reach out, might actually touch her. But he didn’t. Instead, he took a small step back, creating just enough distance between them to remind her that Derek Hale was still Derek Hale. Closed off. Guarded.

“You should go home,” Derek said after a moment, his voice reverting back to that cold, distant tone she was used to. “It’s not safe out here.”

Fallon wanted to argue, wanted to tell him that she could take care of herself, but she didn’t have the energy. Not tonight. “Yeah,” she mumbled, glancing down at her feet. “I will.”

Derek didn’t move, didn’t say anything else, just stood there watching her, waiting for her to leave. But Fallon found herself rooted to the spot, unable to walk away from him just yet.

“Derek…” she started, not entirely sure what she was going to say. Maybe she just wanted to thank him for being there, for listening, for not pushing her away when she felt so raw.

But Derek didn’t give her the chance to finish. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he said, his voice softer now, almost gentle.

Fallon looked up at him, surprised by the tenderness in his tone. “I never do.”

Derek’s lips quirked up ever so slightly, the closest thing to a smile she’d ever seen from him. “Could’ve fooled me.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Fallon nodded, more to herself than to him. “Goodnight, Derek.”

He didn’t say anything in response, just watched as she turned and started to walk away, her steps slower than usual, as if she was reluctant to leave. And maybe she was. Maybe, despite everything, she felt safer with Derek than she did anywhere else.

When she was finally out of sight, Derek let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He hadn’t meant to run into her tonight, hadn’t wanted to see the pain in her eyes, the hurt that he knew wasn’t entirely Scott’s fault. Fallon was strong, stubborn, and fiercely independent, but she was also vulnerable in ways she tried so hard to hide. And Derek had seen that vulnerability tonight, had felt an inexplicable urge to protect her from it.

But he couldn’t. Fallon was her own person, and no matter how much he wanted to keep her safe, he knew he couldn’t shield her from everything. Not from Scott, not from the supernatural world, and certainly not from herself.

So he stayed in the shadows, watching the path she’d taken until he was sure she was gone, before turning and melting back into the darkness. Alone, as always.

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@iamaslytherin0 @famousrunaway1329

#derek hale #stiles stilinski #love story #lydia martin #scott mccall #teen wolf #allison argent #chris argent #female reader #jackson whittemore #teen wolf season 1 #melissa mccall #peter hale #noah stilinski #original character #derek hale imagine

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