#guess who discovered free cam

[messiahzzz]

[shuenkio]

Camera Boy | Yjw ✯

Paring: Jungwon x Male!reader | Genre: Suggestive

Synopsis: Your best friend found out you're doing "that" for a living but why did he keep quiet, and wanted to be the one who made you crazy under his touch instead?

Cw: camboy, cursing, moaning, overstimulated, mentioned of cum, masturbate. 18+ no smut

Non proof read | Eng is not my first.

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

AN: Was bored and decided to do the request even tho I said next week lol. Again I haven't written anything for the past 2 weeks so mistakes can be seen and a lil awkward.

Life as a cam boy while in college was quite interesting, since the college fee was sky rocket you couldn't help but to help yourself, with anything. So that's when you found out there's something to do with your body, ofc the app where you can make money, to pay off your debt.

Talking about college, you have made a friend wherein you call him Jungwon, ever since the first year. He was there, hang out with you, eat with you, do anything with you not to mention he loves to give you a free cuddle session whenever he feels lonely. —

Everything was so perfect, your life was blooming, nothing is in your way not when, one day, your very bestie Jungwon, found out your darkest secrets. He caught your live stream on that app, while jerking off yourself in front of the camera as your face covers in a mask to hide your identity. Then how did he know it was you? Well, there's no other than your voice, also the room you were in, it was indeed your room. You don't like people touching your stuff unless it was him only Jungwon, which rings the bell.

However there is nothing really getting out of hand, Jungwon actually seems to enjoy it and not against it? It is a miracle. Yet he kept his mouth zipped, waiting for the perfect moment. Low-key wanted to be the one and only who makes your squirm and shaken under his touch.

One evening after you finish all of your classes, you head back to the dorm, exhausted and mentally wanted to lay down all day.

As you open the door, and get inside, you drag your feet to lay down on the couch a bit before doing anything, not until you see Jungwon place a glass of water on the table in front of you, to cold you down. Actually it caught you off guard that he was wearing nothing, nothing at all.

"wooah, Jungwon... What are you?" You said, cover your eyes with your small palm. Jungwon furrowed his eyebrows confused.

"what am I? I'm Jungwon duh, ohh you talk about this, yeah it's too hot, the AC broke" he explains innocently. Seeing you all red ears only to fuel him even more, as he is swinging his dick round and round. This kid is different for real.

Can't help but to flush and paint in red, you can't bear to see him all naughty like this, laterally not a teddy bear at all.

"ok- Jungwon that's enough, at least put on some pants"

"oh make me!! Lol but, if you really want me to pant on, you gotta owe me something"

"something? What something? You can't be serious Jungwon, t-that thing is too big in my face" you claim, feel a bit amused and also distracted at the same time, why is he so big, it was the size of your wrist already.

"I know what you did m/n" Jungwon spit out, at first you thought it was nothing, but once it click you feel goosebumps from the top to the bottom of your toes.

"What did I do ? Jungwon?" Nervously, try to be clueless in case you get the wrong idea, however guess what, Jungwon responds with giggles instead.

"you make money on live didn't you, Cam boy?" Smirking on the corner of his lip, the sweet and cute Jungwon was nowhere to be seen, he discovered your darkest secrets already? No damn way, now what should you do, begging for his mercy?

"uh- no you're wrong Jungwon, I did not"

"oh how can you explain this" in a swift move, Jungwon pulled out his phone and showed him the Livestream you did last week, you seen your legs are rest on the chair, spreading open, as you masturbate for the audience, moaning and quivering. Now the moment is real, the cat got your tongue, you are dead for real, panic and trembling is not the right word to represent, it was more than that.

"Jungwon listen, please don't tell anybody, I'm doing that because of my collage please I'll do anything!!" Stuck in the cage at this state, you drop down to your knee, begging for Jungwon to spare your whole life. Would he have some pity and give it to you?

///

The room was filled with wet sound and moaning in pleasure, just like you did in your previous Livestream, leg open wide rest on the chair arm, and facing the camera. It's just a bit different this time, today it's not you who is giving yourself some love, but Jungwon is giving you a helping hand, yes he's the one who is jerking you off this time.

"FUCK babe, you're so good a-at this" falling into the world of ecstasy, you cries out, your dick is being dominated by your bestie which you have to call him by nickname on Livestream to avoid being recognized. Jungwon wrapped around your dick, stroking it nonstop, as the lube did their job. On the other hand, Jungwon also jerks off himself too, groaning softly under his breath.

"yes babe, moaning all of that for me" with that, he increased the pace of both, stroking his huge cock and your dick in the same rhyme, chasing for the climax. It was intense and erotic as Jungwon's cock kept throbbing

And begging for the release, same goes to you. The wet sound continues louder and louder as time passes by, both balls keep slapping against each other's thighs, along with cursing, and trembling follow under these hot sessions.

"holy shit m/n, I feel it, I feel it's coming fuck fuck fuck Aghh"

"Nghh"

Soon enough, Jungwon who was standing, arching his hip forward before a load of heat cum shot straight in your face. His eyes rolling to the back of his brain, took all the pleasurable feelings. You also came undone, soaking on your gamer chair.

Overwhelmed for the first time in a while of masturbating, Jungwon couldn't stand straight on his feet, after an intense moment, before hitting on the floor suddenly. End with that, as you finally catch your breath steady, you quickly end the live, laughing at your friend who was passed out on the ground. It's really funny, even his cock is given up on him too.

"that was some nice shit isn't it? Again, thank you for all your support, special thanks to my love who joined us for today, that's all for now see you late!!"

Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

Crd to all the owner dividers and pics.

Special thanks to my loyal reader for this request !

[ohanny]

so @cryingatships posted about pit babe cam boy au ideas (the north and sonic one will flourish in my brain rent free for the next forever) which reminded me i also wrote one for kenta and kim way back when and i just want to add to their genius because we need more spicy pit babe ideas

again, gets nsfw below the cut:

where introvert kenta finally moves out of his dad’s house and finds a room to rent for suspiciously cheap in a suspiciously nice apartment. he asks some questions because he's not stupid but kim’s all "don't worry, i can afford it and to be honest, i kinda get lonely” and well, it is a really good deal. how likely is it that kenta would end up living with a human trafficking evil overlord twice, anyway? like kim literally could not be worse than his father.

their cohabitation works brilliantly but after two months of living together, kenta comes home from work early to discover the reason why kim can afford their rental agreement and seems to have all the time in the world for his hobbies is not because he's some nepo baby but because he has an insanely lucrative career as a cam boy and an only fans star. because there kim is, dressed in a sheer robe and stockings, washing a sparkly pink dildo in the middle of their open kitchen.

kim, defiant: i am not ashamed of what i do and if it bothers you, you can move out.

kenta whose brain has blue screened and is currently making beep boop noises: gah 

but once kenta manages to stammer out he is fine with kim’s chosen career, kim stops hiding. partly because he's a petty bitch and wants to see if kenta is actually fine with it or if he's a closeted homophobe who really likes cheap rent and partly because sneaking around his own home is super annoying and he would much rather do his make up in the living room because the big windows provide the best light. also, it would be super helpful if kenta could lend him a hand with his lighting system because it takes ages to figure out all the angles alone.

kenta is totally having a crisis because kim is just so confident and self-assured and after he finishes filming, he will sit in the living room eating pizza in old sweats, regaling kenta with tales of cringy comments from old men and other streaming misfortunes from buying the most disgustingly tasting flavored lube to getting a cramp in the middle of riding his toys.

but then one evening kenta comes home to kim stabbing a salad, looking sulky, and he’s like “what, no pizza tonight?” and kim rolls his eyes and explains one of his top donors made a comment about how he's been gaining weight lately with a self-deprecating “i guess i got a bit too carried away with the take out and beer with you.”

kenta is offended. he might go on a little rant about how that man must be blind on top of an absolute imbecile and should go fuck himself for a change and kim is beautiful no matter what he eats and in kenta’s personal opinion actually looks much better now compared to the rail thin twink thing he had going on when kenta first moved in. kim stares up at him, wide eyed and in awe.

kenta, blushing and starting to stutter again: anyway… no one should be allowed to tell anyone what to do with their bodies and you should just block them because you don't need someone like that in your space and i will just go to my room now bye

kim, jumping to his feet to grab kenta: the fuck you are, come here -

and yes, they kiss and it's amazing but kim is still hesitant because “you're really okay with all this? because i don't plan on stopping anytime soon, i like what i do” and kenta sheepishly admits that he sometimes watches kim’s streams on a burner account.

kim: you know you'd get a much better view on the other side of the wall?

kenta: oh.

kim: that was an invitation, dummy.

kenta: OH

kim is right. the view is so much better on the other side of the wall. kim is stunning and looks and sounds so fucking good and having kenta there is totally helping him get in the mood and put on an even better show. if the live chat gets a rising frequency of comments along the lines of “is it just me or is kim looking at someone behind the camera?” well, it adds to the mystique?

and really, it's inevitable that - once he gets comfortable - kenta snaps in a moment of horny insanity and ends up revealing himself. it's friday and kim is on all fours, fucking himself with the infamous pink, sparkly dildo but he’s not able to reach quite right and he keeps begging and cursing at the camera and kenta’s brain just goes “well, i could help.” he doesn't think. he just gets out of his chair, ducks past the camera and swats kim’s hand away to grab the base of the dildo and then smoothly slides it all the way in.

it’s only when kim’s arms give out and he slumps down with a guttural moan that kenta realizes they’re still very much live. he snatches his hand back but before he can stumble completely out of the frame, kim whines “fuck, come back, sorry guys but i don't give a shit” into the pillow and the chat goes WILD when kenta is helpless to do anything other what he's told. he uses the dildo to fuck kim into, through and past a devastating prostate orgasm and once he has regained his senses, kim ends the stream with a breathless giggle and a “sorry to cut the outro tonight but clearly me and my roommate need to have a talk.”

kenta: roommate?

kim: i mean, i'd prefer boyfriend because i'm pretty sure i'm in love with you but -

kenta: boyfriend sounds good.

and they live happily ever after. kenta helps kim with his accounts, clothes and photoshoots and on special occasions, joins his streams and videos. kim charges double for everything they do as a couple and all that extra money is certainly helping him in convincing kenta to quit the office job he's way too qualified for and find what he really wants to do in life. they adopt three cats and kenta moves all his things into kim’s room and everything is beautiful and nothing hurts.

[prismatic-cannon]

Mishima is the only one of my blorbos who gets so bullied by canon that I have no courage to bully him further. I'm glad you give him all the fluff and fuzzy!

Do you have any headcanons for how he interacts with other confidants? I could see Akira introducing him to Yoshida, and asking Yoshida to offer him a job.

nah you can totally bully him harder it’s fine Mishima may have a little fluff after the Kamoshida arc. As a treat 😂

I think Mishima still retains a somewhat isolated social life throughout the course of the game tbh. He strikes me as someone who desperately wishes for meaningful human connection but doesn’t know how to go about establishing relationships, especially since he’s been bullied and friendless most of his life. Even the beginning of his confidant with Joker reads as a very professional/transactional one because of the Phansite. Of course Mishima does go through his own arc of discovering his self-worth yadda yadda but man does canon Joker really not enjoy his presence lmao, idk if you could call that an “unbreakable bond” honestly

If canon is to be believed and he’s been ostracised throughout middle school then I don’t think he’d have the social skills/experience to make friends easily either ): That one confidant rank between Joker, Futaba and Mishima still makes me cringe when he’s all like “pog you’re so pretty you must be one of those cam girl streamers k e k haha it’s a joke get it” like damn boy my face is collapsing in on itself you’ve made a blackhole thanks. I like to think Mishima goes home afterwards and screams into a pillow vowing never to speak again just so he doesn’t have the chance to make an ass of himself, but then he wakes up the next day and looks into the mirror all “the Phantom Thieves would definitely be lost without me, I’m totally not a zero or anything >:c” Mishima having the barest self awareness makes it really funny in a tragic sort of way 😂 like dude stop hitting yourself

This part definitely strays into headcanon territory, but I think he’d try to fill up his free time by hanging out in the busy parts of Tokyo (assuming he somehow pulled himself away from the Phansite), or pursuing other hobbies like volleyball — anything to stave off his loneliness really. Getting into vaguely heated discussions in the off topic forums of the Phansite is probably his favourite past time lmao (idk what he’d talk about but it’s def some deep nerd shit)

I guess Ryuji and Mishima could have a friendship of sorts off-screen? Especially since it’s mentioned that they work out sometimes (which brings me so much joy ;_; ) I could definitely see the both of them talk out their shared trauma from Kamoshida if they ever let themselves be mutually vulnerable enough. Ryuji’s a friendly enough extrovert that he could help to bridge the awkward gap between Mishima and other acquaintances, then anything could happen from there really

[pennyl4n3]

The Pool

*Taking a deep breath*

Well well well, this is my first fanfic (or should I say second or third? Btw, this one came to a conclusion) and I've never been much into writing, but Duskwood and all of you fantastic people in the fandom here brought me to this. I hope you like it, and of course I look forward to your comments and feedback.

Pairing: Jake x MC

Contents: Angst, Sadness, Fluff, Romance

It had been three months since his last contact with her. He'd had to disappear from the radar, the government breathing down his neck. Every day he fought the urge to write to her; he couldn't risk putting her in danger. He couldn't even risk reading her conversations at the moment, so he was as blind as she was.

He didn't know where she was, if she was okay, if she was mad at him, though after all this time he imagined she was. The last time they had written to each other she was in Duskwood and he had every intention of finally catching up with her. Things hadn't gone as planned unfortunately, and the deal he was trying to make with the government had fallen through, forcing him to become a fugitive again.

He was exhausted, he was free and yet he felt imprisoned in an endless loop. Ever since he had met her he had realized how heavy his condition was to bear, how much he missed talking to someone in person, how much he longed to get out without having to disguise himself. He wanted to move, to run, to be outside, and above all else he wanted to run to her, and hold her, look into her eyes, tell her in his voice how much he missed her.

While he was lost in these thoughts he scrolled through their last conversations, rereading every word and every comma. At one point he found the conversation in which they had talked about one of MC's great passions, swimming. He barely knew how to float, he had never had a chance to learn it as a child, and on that occasion he had promised himself he would try it someday. MC had told him about a public pool in her hometown that was easy to get into at night through a gate with a broken lock. She had gone there many times, when she needed to relieve her nerves and to be alone. Suddenly Jake felt the urge to see that pool, and set about finding it. Amazingly it was a couple of blocks from where he was hiding, the next step was to check the security cams near the building and along the way. He could do it without too much difficulty, and he really needed to get some air and some purpose, so he slipped on his sweatshirt, pulled on his hood and mask, and set off.

He arrived within minutes, constantly looking around. The streets were practically empty, but caution was never too much. The pool was a low building, all on one level. Mentally following MC's directions he managed to find the little gate, behind some bushes. It was still broken, unbelievable. Curiosity was stronger than him and he continued towards the entrance. His footsteps echoed in the hall, as he went down the few steps that led directly to the pool floor, the smell of chlorine filled his nostrils. Even though it was night he could see almost all of the interior well, thanks to the huge windows that almost reached the ceiling and let in the illumination of the street lamps, just as MC had told him.

He sat on the steps and stayed there for a while, lost in his imagination, even though he had never seen MC, enjoying that moment of peace, and trying to imagine her doing something that made her feel good...

A noise outside startled him, he ran off the steps and flattened himself against the wall. He waited in silence, his nerves on edge, his heart in his throat, his eye searching for possible alternatives escape routes. another metallic noise, and the angry meows of two cats fighting each other. Jake breathed a sigh of relief but waited vigilantly for a while longer before heading for the exit with shaking legs. When he returned to his shelter, he promised himself he would never try it again, but that was not to be. He returned there two more nights, until he decided to get a swimsuit and try swimming.

And so Jake found himself inside the pool, scared and unsure at first, but after a few minutes he began to feel the benefit of being in the water, the lightness provided by its support. He knew it wouldn't last long, but he continued to go there as many nights as he could. He would return to his hut tired but satisfied, and he could even get a decent night's sleep.

One evening he was trying to swim as usual when he heard a female voice saying jokingly, "well, I thought I was the only one who knew this place, but apparently not." Jake froze, almost having a heart attack. He was in the water, there was no way to escape. He drew a deep breath, thinking that it was anyway dark enough, and that his features weren't clearly visible, and decided to try not to look too suspicious. "Yeah, apparently not" he replied, trying to keep his voice from shaking. The girl smiled, or so it seemed to him, and continued, "I guess you like to be here alone, just like I usually do, but I could really use a swim tonight. I'll go in the back lane, I swear I won't bother you. Is that okay?" "O-oh yeah, yeah, go ahead," Jake mumbled, trying to hide his face as much as possible, and stood watching her as she made her way to the other side of the pool, still shocked that there was another human being in the same room as him. He realized that he was staring in her direction, and decided to start swimming again. After a while he stopped, out of breath and with tired arms, and saw that the girl instead was still swimming, at a brisk pace, and giving no sign of wanting to stop. He got out of the water and sat on the steps, wrapped in his towel, trying to catch his breath. Watching her was hypnotic, she moved with fluid movements, slow and steady. He wondered if MC swam like that too. How he wished he could have written to her to tell her he was swimming, or at least trying to, and to thank her for letting him discover this wonderful new experience as well. Since he had met her, his life had taken on a new light, where before only greyness and despair reigned.

His phone made a sound, bringing him back to reality. It was time to go home. He dressed quickly and headed for the exit, he didn't want to interrupt the girl's concentration, and he didn't intend to introduce himself, so better that way. Once back at the shelter he went back to work on his laptop, while eating a sandwich. Concentration continued to leave him that night, however, as the encounter with the stranger had brought him back to MC in a big way.

He returned to the pool the next evening, yearning to tire himself out and find some peace of mind. Once he got to the door he heard the sound of water coming from inside, he carefully pushed his way across the threshold, trying to figure out who was there and was relieved to see that it was again the girl he met the night before. He walked over to his side of the pool and removed his clothes as he cast furtive glances at her. He dove into the water and began to swim, trying to focus on his breathing, which was the part he struggled with the most. When he emerged with bated breath, he saw the girl standing at the edge of the pool and winced. "Hi, I didn't mean to scare you. I've been watching you swim and I thought I could give you a few tips, if you don't mind" Jake was so amazed and scared that for a few seconds he could only stare at her with his mouth open. "I-I...I don't.... " she giggled softly and shrugged her shoulders "Ok, look, I didn't mean to embarrass you...I'm going back to my lane. If you want it you know you can ask it okay?" And she turned to go back to her lane. "Wait. Yes, please I will gladly accept your help." Jake said. She retraced her steps and squatted down beside the edge of the pool with a smile on her face. "So, first let's start with your upper body, I've noticed that you move it a lot between strokes and that wastes your energy and breath. Try to stand up straighter, your arms and legs do most of the work. Then, every time you pull your arm forward, you can inhale if you feel the need to, and slowly you'll find yourself pulling two strokes, then three, and so on, but don't be in a hurry. If you take care of your technique well, managing your breath will already be easier." Jake was focused on her words and nodded, before turning around and trying again. Following her advice actually felt like he was already doing better. A wave of satisfaction ran through him when he managed to do his usual laps without getting breathless. He emerged smiling and sat on the edge of the pool. She was still there and looked at him approvingly, then asked "Better now, isn't it? "Yes, thank you very much." He answered. "Thanks to you, I'm just back in town but I'm not having much contact with the rest of the world, helping you was a pleasure" "I... I understand, I didn't have much contact lately either". A slightly embarrassed silence fell between them. It was Jake's phone that broke it, by emitting an alarm tone. Jake got up quickly and headed for his bagpack. "I, uh, have to go now, thanks again for your help." She looked at him briefly, nodded, and stepped back. "Oh, yeah, sure, no problem. Well, good night then" and walked back to the pool. "Good night" he replied, and as soon as she turned around, he changed his wet swimsuit with dry clothes and headed quickly to the exit.

As he walked down the street, he wondered if he wasn't risking too much by going to the pool regularly, and by confiding in that unknown girl. He then decided that it would be better to avoid it for a while, even if it was with great regret.

Jake avoided the pool for a few days, but eventually decided to go back. He couldn't wait to get there. As he walked the short distance between his hiding place and the pool, he mentally savored the feel of the water, the smell of the chlorine, the relaxation it gave him to swim until his muscles ached. As always, he sneaked up on the hidden entrance, his senses all out to catch any suspicious movements or noises. That evening, however, he heard no suspicious noises as he entered the large room with the tanks, but a soft sobbing. He listened for a while, trying to distinguish where the crying was coming from. When he spotted the silhouette of the mysterious girl on the steps he felt a tug at his heart, and could not help but go near her.

"Hey, is everything okay?" he said softly.

She looked up with a jolt, and when she recognized him she answered a little annoyed: "What do you think? No, everything is not okay." She immediately realized she had been abrupt, and added in a tone of apology, clutching her knees to her chest: "Sorry, I didn't think you would come, I haven't seen you here in a while and you caught me off guard..." "It's okay, no need to apologize. I guess I interrupted an intimate moment of yours. It's just that hearing you cry made me worried somehow." He replied to her as he blushed, realizing what he had just said. "I-I meant...well I mean, sorry if I m-maybe I embarrassed you, I should probably go and..." hinting back. "No, wait. Please stay. If it's not a problem for you of course. I don't really feel like being alone anymore." she said as she reached out a hand towards him and motioned for him to sit beside her. Jake was tense, the last thing he had expected that night was to find himself consoling the mysterious girl, but he certainly couldn't leave her there alone, she had always been very kind to him and he was sincerely sorry to see her sad. He exhaled a deep breath and went to sit next to her as he pulled a handkerchief from a pocket of his backpack and handed it to her. "Thank you," she said with a smile, "I really appreciate it." For a while an awkward silence descended, during which they both stared at their hands. Suddenly she blurted out "You know, I'm worried about someone, that's why I was crying. I haven't heard from him in a while and I don't know what to think. I'm trying to move on, I promised him, and really, I'm trying so hard, but some days the weight of his absence is so hard to bear that I can barely get out of bed. Whatever I do the thought of him is with me. This is the only place I can find some peace, because swimming empties my mind b-but t-tonight..." her eyes glazed over again as she swallowed, trying to push back the tears. He had listened to her in silence until that moment, respecting her moment of venting, but when he realized she was about to cry again he felt he had to do something, so he passed his left arm behind her back and pulled her to him, gently holding her in an embrace. "I-I can understand it, you know? I promised one person I would move on too. But it's so hard. I want to call her, I want to write her, I want to know how she is doing, where she is...but every day I forbid myself to do that. And I know I owe it to her, because she doesn't deserve to keep feeling bad because of me and my mistakes and..." his voice faded away, as he realized that he was risking to say things he shouldn't have said, he recovered quickly trying to cut it short and not to let the tremor in his voice be heard "...and I understand you, that's it. I miss her so much too."

As they stood in silence, his heart running fast in his chest and he desperately looking for something else to say, he felt her draw back into his embrace and sigh. It felt good to have her in his arms, and feeling her calming down warmed his heart. It had been so long since Jake had touched anyone, not really talked to anyone, hardly remembered what it was like. A little later she said softly, "Thank you. For sharing a little piece of you with me. You don't need to talk about it if you don't feel like it, I understand. It's... " she stopped thoughtfully, "Complicated" finished Jake. "Yes, yes exactly! It's damn complicated. But knowing that someone can understand me makes me feel better." then she turned to him and drew a deep breath, then added, "Well, how about a swim? After all, this is what we both came for." Jake nodded and removed his arm from her shoulders. "Yeah, I guess you're right." He got up from the steps and walked over to the usual little corner where he used to change his clothes, while she headed to her pool lane and dove in. Once he slipped into his swimsuit, Jake entered cautiously, still pensive from that brief but intense exchange of confessions.

He slowly dived down to the bottom and stayed there for a while, still immersed in his thoughts. He had to stop those nightly outings. They were already dangerous in themselves, and now this unknown girl had been added, making him talk too freely. All of his inner alarms were telling him it was time to stop, and it was also time to change hiding places again, even though being so close to a place in MC's heart made him feel closer to her.

A movement to the side of his field of vision brought him out of his thoughts, and out of the pool as well. When he got to his feet he ran a hand over his eyes and pulled his hair back so he could see better, turning to face the source of the movement. He saw her in the aisle next to where he stood, staring at him. "A-are you ok?" said him in an uncertain voice. She giggled and replied, "I was going to ask you the same thing, you weren't coming up out of the water anymore." "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry I scared you, I was just... well, reflecting." he replied. She stared at him intently, looking at his black hair, stuck to the sides of his face, and said tilting her head "It's weird you know? You remind me so much of him, the way you behave somehow, I can't actually explain it". Jake blushed and swallowed hard. "I'll take it as a compliment" he replied, and stepped out of the water. "I have to get back. I hope you feel better now." continued, while heading to the bag of dry clothes. She stood staring at him, wondering if she had made him uncomfortable with that confession. When she realised he was about to undress she turned around, blushing. She waited for a while and then sat down on the edge of the bath and said with a smile, "Yes, I'm feeling better, thanks to you. Good night, stranger."

When he arrived to the hut, something alarmed him: some of the boards near the entrance were placed differently than he had left them. He quickly stepped into the shadows and took out his phone to check inside. Two men were sitting at his usual spot, peering at the screens. Jake was quick to slip back downstairs and to reach out his hiding place number two, three doors down. As soon as he was seated, he took his phone out of his jeans pocket and started the hidden cameras. The two men didn't seem to have any idea what they were looking at, and they didn't look like officers either, to be honest. Maybe two thieves? But what kind of thieves would break into an old warehouse with the windows covered by boards? What did they expect to find there? He carefully examined the video images from the cameras he had placed around the rest of the perimeter of the building and saw a couple of policemen in the back. "Fuck!" he whispered through his teeth. He prepared to format everything in the hiding place and stood vigilantly by, watching them alternately. The two intruders were probably hiding from the cops, and risked exposing him. He noticed that there was a car shop next door and decided to create a diversion. He quickly managed to hack into the shop's security system and set it to go off, so that the cops could be sent away. He then logged on to his workstation and simply brought up Nymos, some glitches and the words "intruders detected, defensive protocol activated" on the screens. It was more than enough to send the two of them running for the hills.

He sighed with relief, letting himself down on the makeshift mattress behind him. He stayed like that for a while as he listened to his heartbeat return to a normal rhythm, his adrenaline slowly subsiding, his breathing becoming regular. His stomach rumbled, so he reached into his bag and pulled out an energy bar. After an hour or so, he locked the entrance to the main hideout and went back the way he'd come: better stay there for the night. As he settled in for the night, streams of thoughts came over him. He realised that the idea of leaving MC hometown made him feel lost, even though she wasn't there, and it wasn't even certain that she would return. Still, he knew he had to leave, that evening's mishap was another proof of that. There wasn't much to think about really, he had to move again, maybe he'd come back later. He thought of the girl at the pool, of her pain, so familiar. How was it possible that love could always bring so much suffering? He drifted off to sleep with those thoughts in his head, and woke up restless.

The next morning Jake was almost done packing up all of his belongings and ready to go. He wondered if once he was settled into his new hiding place, he would find another pool where he could train undisturbed, so he set about identifying all the potential candidates. How he wished he could have told MC about this! As he scanned the pools and studied their surroundings it occurred to him that he could write her using a disposable phone before leaving. His hands began to shake at the mere thought of being able to write her again. Would she be happy to read it? Maybe she was angry with him. In their last conversation she had told him to at least let her know if he was alive as soon as he could. Before he could think about it too much longer, he stormed out of the room and headed for the first open store. Once he retrieved the disposable phone he went back to the spare hut and slipped into it with all his things. He turned on the phone and prepared it for use.

*??? is online*

Jake:Hello, MC.

Shortly after came the reply

*** MC is online ***

MC:Jake! Are you okay?

Jake:Yes MC, I'm fine. I apologize for not letting you hear from me again, it was too dangerous.

MC:That's okay, I'm so glad to read you now, I kept telling myself that you were definitely fine and that I shouldn't have written you, as promised

Jake felt his palms sweat.

Jake:You know, I've been going swimming lately. At night, on the sly. Your enthusiasm about it convinced me. You were so right MC, it can empty your mind. I wanted so hard to thank you for that.

MC:I went swimming recently too, at night, it kept me from going crazy. Maybe we swam at the same time

Jake: :)

Jake:And do you know where I was? The place you told me about. It was like I felt closer to you

MC squinted her eyes

MC:Jake... you don't mean that place with big windows almost to the ceiling,do you?

Jake:Yes, exactly that.

MC bursted in laugh and shaked her head in disbelief.

MC:And you didn't happen to meet someone? Like a really nice, kind girl who gave you lessons?

Jake felt his knees buckle and had to lean against the wall to keep from falling.

Jake:You...

Jake:Was that you?

Butterflies were spreading through his stomach.

MC:So you hugged me the other night! I was crying just for you, and you were there, this is crazy!

MC:Where are you now?

His eyes widened.

Jake:MC me, I was going to leave the town, last night I found intruders in my shelter, it's not safe for me to be here anymore.

For a time that seemed eternal to him there was no sign of life on the other end of the phone.

Jake:MC...

MC:Don't you dare

MC:Don't you dare leaving again. You've been staying here for days, and even allowed yourself to go out almost every night, and you never wrote me anything. Now that we might meet you're starting this again.

MC:We met by accident Jake! Does that seem normal to you???

MC:I'll be waiting there tonight, you better come

***MC is offline***

Jake stared at the phone bewildered. He was terrified. He couldn't believe he had hugged MC the night before. And she was crying, because of him. She was right, he couldn't leave again.

That night he went to the pool, almost running. He sneaked up on the hidden entrance, holding his breath, and went to sit on the steps where he usually rested his backpack. A short time later he saw her walk in and head towards him. It seemed to him that his heart was about to explode. He stood up and walked over to her. They both found themselves running to cover the final distance that separated them. They hugged each other tightly, and stayed that way, without speaking for who knows how long. Neither of them wanted to untie the embrace, as if to do so meant to lose themselves again.

At the end MC pulled back a little to look him in the eyes, and said, "I was beginning to think this moment would never come" "And instead we found each other without even knowing it" he replied chuckling. She blushed and rose on tiptoe to give him a light kiss on the lips.

"Shall we go for a swim?" she told him with a mischievous grin. "Sure. I've been taking lessons" he replied as he began to undress.

[lokilickedme]

Somebody help me chill, this is insane.

(under the cut because long and also pretty traumatic, for me at least)

Crazy neighbor, remember her?  Her son destroyed a piece of equipment we had attached to one of our trees at the fenceline last week, she denied it and called us insane liars - that’s the most recent craziness in the ongoing saga of the neighbor from hell.  I was sitting here reading my dash tonight and happened to glance over at the monitor for the surveillance camera husband got me the other day to watch that exact spot (where the equipment was smashed) and guess who I see bent over looking through the fence peering very closely at that exact spot?  Neighbor’s equally insane son, who we know did the actual dirty work.  And I, stupid like I am, took a screenshot of him and then immediately jumped up and ran outside in the dark in my pajamas (nearly 9pm, pitch black, their porch light is off because obviously they’re doing something they don’t want to be seen doing) and I ask “Excuse me, what are you doing?”

This lunatic immediately starts SCREAMING at me - I mean top of his lungs SCREAMING abusive threats, calling me a stupid psycho whore bitch, yelling at me to get my ass back in my house and generally just acting completely off his rocker unhinged nuts - and then his mother comes out and comes over to the fence and gets in my face while I’m just standing there and tells me to mind my own business.  I say I am minding my business, I saw him looking through the fence at my property right where we had vandalism happen last week so I came out to find out why he’s interested in my property.  She laughed in my face and said “No he wasn’t, he was standing right here looking at his phone like this” and she does this little pantomine of someone looking at their phone, which is funny because she wasn’t out there when he was doing it and there are no windows on that side of her house at all.  I ignored her and asked “What are you looking for?”  He kept screaming incoherent animal noises and insults from behind her so I asked again, “What are you looking for?”  And that crazy woman grinned at me and said “We’re just looking to see what kind of new devices you’ve installed!”

OMG.  She didn’t even take a breath in between lying and then contradicting her own lie.  And she’s grinning smugly at me the entire time, gesturing around pointing at our property cams and mosquito light (it flashes and apparently she thinks it’s watching her) and my bedroom window - which means she’s been snooping.  There is a cam sitting in my windowsill, aimed at the spot where the device was smashed.  Every bit of this equipment is on our property, some of it behind a privacy fence.  I tell her it’s none of her business what kind of devices we’ve got on our property, but she just yammers over me, and of course numbskull is still ranting like a psycho behind her, screaming at me to mind my own business and get back in my house and leave them alone.  At this point he’s pulled out his phone and shoved it over her shoulder toward my face and is recording me, which is just...fucking hilarious...because I’m literally doing nothing but standing there in shock and awe at how nuts these people are, and he’s still screaming abusive curses and names at me while he’s recording.

Anyway, for about 4.5 minutes we stood there with them shouting over me (I know the exact time because it was later discovered that our doorbell cam recorded audio of the entire event) and a little ways into it he screams “I WILL TEAR YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF!!”

At this point psycho woman finally turns around and says “Addison Case!” and pushes him back.  He lunges at me and she tells him to go call the police (??what??  I mean...I wish he had...my phone was in my hand frozen solid, locked up because of the glitchy surveillance app I had to install to see the camera, or else I would have called them myself - but my god they really thought I was the one the cops needed to come for??).  Meanwhile I’m just standing there on my own property in the dark in my pajamas, all 5 feet and 120 lbs of me, while this rabid animal - he’s a 21 year old college boy - is lunging at me and screaming nonstop, calling me a fucking whore bitch loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear it while his phone’s camera light is in my face blinding me.  Crazy lady smiles that smug shit eating grin of hers and tells me to get back in my house, leave her alone, and move the hell away so she can live in peace.

Wow.  Just...holy shit.

This is the person who has allowed her dog to attack my very small 8 year old son on our property and send him to the hospital with injuries last year, then attempt to attack him again 2 weeks ago (he is now 9 at the time of the second attack) - again on our own property (in our back yard this time, in our front yard the first time), has allowed her dogs (multiple) to bark all night long and keep us awake (she leaves them outside and then goes away for the weekend and they bark the entire time she’s gone), then she had her crazy violent son destroy the BarkBox we put in our tree on our side of the fence last week (we put it up as a humane way to get the barking to stop without having to listen to her call us insane liars every time we complain about it).  Yet...she kept repeating over and over and over for us to leave her alone and stop harassing her.

All I could even do was stand there shaking my head.  It was surreal.  And frustrating, because they wouldn’t even let me get a word out without screaming over me, and she was doing that infuriating Karen thing where they shove their hand at your face and grin smugly while they’re telling you what you better do or they’ll call someone to make you.

I actually started laughing, it was so ludicrous.  She’s committed all those vile offenses against us and we’re the ones that need to leave her alone.  We’ve had to file four police reports against her and we’re the ones that are making her life miserable.  I just can’t stop thinking about that Liar Liar movie where the repeat offender keeps calling his lawyer to complain that the cops won’t stop arresting him and the lawyer finally yells THEN STOP BREAKING THE LAW ASSHOLE!!

It’s just like that.  My god.

SO -

She tells him to call the police again, and this limp dick shoves that phone light right up to my face and says “You think she’s worth calling the cops over?  Look at her, she don’t look worth it to me.”  And bitch starts laughing.  My god, these people are subhuman, I swear.  I’ve never seen anyone act like this in my life, over a person doing literally nothing to them.

So she finally orders her rabid son (who is just about foaming at the mouth, I swear he’s making these barking animal noises at me, it’s weird as hell) into the house and they walk away, with him still ranting like a madman until the door closes behind them.  I immediately go inside my own house and call my husband, who was way out at the back of our property in our camper (he self quarantines each day after work out there to protect us because there have been a lot of covid cases at his workplace) and he didn’t know anything was happening.  He immediately runs up to the house and I tell him I caught neighbor’s thug son messing around at our fence and that when I went out he threatened to kill me.

Tom grabs something - I don’t even know what it was, I think it was this piece of board that was sitting by the door, we’ve done a shelving project recently and a couple of leftover pieces have been there for a few days - and he stalks outside toward neighbor’s house.  I hear him yell COME OUT HERE BOY!!! and I stg you guys, if I wasn’t on the phone calling 911 I might have thought about getting naked right there and then because damn.

So anyway, let’s not go there.  This is serious by god lol (look for this to show up in a fic soon though because material like this doesn’t get handed to you for free every day).

I call 911 and say the neighbor’s son just threatened my life and for them to come quick because he’s still over there but I know he’s going to leave any second (this is his mom’s M.O, the two times the police have tried to go talk to her she gets in her car and leaves before they can get from my house to hers, and I know he’ll do the same because COWARDS).  Tom comes back and says the little pussywillow wouldn’t come out of the house.  He’s breathing fire, you guys.  Pure fucking fire.  I tell 911 to get somebody out quick before the kid leaves, and just about 2 minutes after I hang up he does just that - we see him blast past our house in his truck and he’s gone, and then the police arrive about 3 minutes after.  I’m so mad I can’t see straight.  If they’d been able to see him in the state he was in, they’d have arrested him on sight.

Two squad cars (big SUV’s) pull up and block her driveway with full lights flashing, which makes me laugh because suddenly we’ve got neighbors coming outside to see what’s going on.  I meet the officers outside, and the crazy bitch next door does the same, yelling “Hello Officer!” and waving to them as they’re coming up to my porch.

They talk to me and Tom for a long time, I tell them everything that happened, they interview Big (he and Little were inside the open door and heard it all), we fill out our statements and talk with them more until one officer goes next door to talk to neighbor.  We can hear her dripping her fake sugar and spice while they’re talking on her porch and my husband loses his shit - he heads toward her house and yells “We got the entire thing on recording, don’t even try to lie!  Your kid, threatening to kill my wife?!?”  (he’s referring to the camera in my bedroom window, which actually only recorded about 2 minutes because I don’t have it set up correctly yet, but they don’t know that). The officer yells at him to get back, which, yeah - he shouldn’t have done that, but for god’s sake the woman’s peckerhead son just literally threatened murder on a member of his family, this is the final fucking straw and he’s mad.  And as he’s coming back across the yard the officer that stayed with me points at our new doorbell camera, just freshly installed as of about two weeks ago, and asks if it’s on.  We haven’t even really figured out how to use it yet, but yes, as far as we know it’s on.  The incident happened around the side of the house, but the doorbell records audio.

God bless technology.

I invite the officer inside the house and Tom gets his phone, pulls up the app for the doorbell, and starts skipping through the recording looking for the right timestamp.  Up till this point all they have is me saying the guy screamed a lot of abusive profanities at me and threatened to tear my head off, and they’re taking me serious but probably not that serious, you know?  Neighbors fight all the time, wars start over barking dogs, things get exaggerated, we’ve all seen the TV dramas.

Until Tom finds the segment on the footage and starts playing it to them on his phone.  It’s kind of quiet because we were a good distance away, but you can hear the guy screaming just like I said he was.  The officer asks if we have a speaker we can play it through so he can hear the words more clearly, because he needs proof of threat and that’s entirely in the words.

You guys, I’m tellin’ ya, sometimes you get a chance to fucking SHINE.  My husband is a musician and this cop is asking him if he’s got a good speaker.  So within minutes Tom’s got this huge venue-style amplifier designed for broadcasting music to the back wall of a freaking stadium pulled out into the livingroom and he’s hooking his phone up to it, and then he hits play and the other officer comes back from next door to join us and I can tell by the annoyed look on his face that neighbor bitch has likely charmed him and shed a plethora of persecuted tears and spewed her lies about how we’ve been harassing her forEVER and I think for a second that it’s a total loss now, he’s made his mind up in her favor.

And then...away we go.  Tom cranks the volume on the speaker and they both lean in to listen closely.

Just about a minute into the recording they have their proof - thugnuts screaming I WILL TEAR YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF!!!

Both officers nod, close their notebooks, and the second officer makes a phonecall while the first one turns to me and says “That’s terroristic threatening and it’s a class C felony.  You’re going to need to go to the PA’s office with all the reports you’ve filed against them so far and all your evidence from tonight including that recording and hand it all to them.  They’re likely going to issue a no-contact so that he can’t interact with you ever again.”

This is a victory, but it’s just the first step, and I feel sickeningly disheartened that it’s all in my lap to do everything.  I want them to go demand his whereabouts from his mother and just go get his ass and haul him in.  But no, I have a ton of legwork to do now because these horrible people won’t fucking stop.

After several more minutes of me asking questions about what exactly we need to do and where we need to go, etc etc (I’m competent but I’m also fucking rattled, someone threatened to kill me tonight and I’m blanking hard on the instructions he’s giving me) they finally wrap it up and leave.  They’ve been in my house for a half hour waiting for me to finish filling out the report (I had to ask for more paper because honey I’m getting ALL the details in there) and I can just imagine how freaked out neighbor is when she sees what time they finally move their cars from in front of her driveway.

And now I’m coming down from the weird calm that I had through the entire event, and my heart feels like it’s going to EXPLODE.  I had heart surgery two months ago, do I need this??  The pathetic part is that I know now just how stupid those people are, and I know this won’t be the end from their side by any means.  We’ll start finding more stuff broken, or he’ll start climbing over the fence back at the back of the property to steal stuff from husband’s tool shed, or my tires will get slashed.  These people are that dumb and hateful, they proved it tonight.  He said if we had animals he would kill them, and then he made the same threat against me.  How stupid does a person have to be to stand there with his phone out recording himself ranting and making threats against a woman standing in her own yard in her pajamas?  Big tough man there.  And his mama grinning at me the whole time, telling me I’m crazy and she’s concerned for her own safety because of me, while her son is standing right behind her threatening my life.

I’m just...my god, I don’t even know what to think.  I thought people only acted like this in TV dramas, seriously.  I’ve seen some shit in my life but this particular brand of stupid has up till now evaded me, but now it’s been in my face and I’m sort of in shock.

I don’t like guns.  At ALL.  Tom has always had at least one hidden carefully away, safely locked up away from the house, but now there are two inside my house in immediate grabbing range.  He insisted that I let him show me how to use them.  Rules were laid down for the boys - never touch, never, don’t even get close to them - and now there is a box of shotgun shells on my fireplace mantel and a singleshot rifle by the door.  I hate this so damn much.

Don’t pick it up unless you’re ready to use it, he told me.  Without even thinking, I said back, “If I touch it it’s getting used.”

I HATE THIS SO FUCKING MUCH

My god.  I told the cops that the drug lord that lived over there four years ago was a better neighbor than this woman.  They didn’t even laugh.

I guess they’re right, now that I think about it...it isn’t funny.

[themuseic]

Only Fools (Chapter  9)

(Art Credit: @clumsycopy)

Fic Summary: Sent to Boone County, West Virginia on an assignment, you find yourself engulfed your work. How could you possibly find time for anything else? Even if “anything else” includes the tall, kind, and handsome bartender from down the road?

Word Count: 4.2k

Read Chapter 8 here.

Read here on AO3.

Warnings: Smut, Vaginal Fingering, PIV Sex, Outdoor Sex, Swearing, Temperature Play. Zippy knows a lot about cougars now. 

Author’s Note: It took a long time, but I got this chapter ready eventually! Two things. One, I finished plotting! So some new tags are getting added to AO3, but I know I do warnings on here. Be advised that there is some angst upcoming, and those chapters will be tagged as such. Second! If you enjoy this chapter, you just might like Trail Cam, by @clydesfavoritegirl​! Even if you don’t, check out Kylie’s anyway!! It seems Clyde just exudes “outdoor sex” vibes. As always, thank you for reading <3 

After you had begun your freelance work, you quickly discovered that you worked best alone. You had been asked to take a partner on your first assignment, a greenhorn at the agency you were contracted by. Sure, the guy was nice enough, but once you had to shush him for just about the millionth time in the camouflaged blind while you tried to count the species of birds hopping and flitting through the lush meadow, you knew that your time would be best spent on your own. From that moment on, you made sure to write into all contracts that you would operate on your terms, and if you didn’t want to bring a partner on assignment there was nothing they could do about it. 

And that’s how you had worked for years since then. You had been to every corner of the country and seen it all by yourself. That was more than fine with you. You were happy to get your work done alone, you actually preferred it. 

It didn’t surprise you though. It didn’t surprise you that when Clyde started coming out to help you on the trail, your desire for solitude flew out the window faster than the birds had fled from your first work partner. It didn’t surprise you that you planned your trips out around his schedule at the bar. 

It didn’t surprise you. 

Joe Bang had tried to convince you the Logan brothers were stupid. Dim. You didn’t have to try to prove him wrong though, Clyde did that by himself.

He was more than curious, he was just one hair shy of ravenous. Ravenous for information, the usually quiet man was a rapid-fire list of questions. He would ask how to set things up, why you put them out. He would hover over your shoulder, watching your every move and lightly touching your arm before he would ask about the note you had just written down. And when you were sitting at the bar reviewing footage, flicking through data, or interviewing someone who just swore they knew where the den might be, Clyde was on the other side of your laptop, ready to ask a question, celebrate a breakthrough, or slide you a drink - whatever you might need. 

He would get a special glint in his eye when you told him it was time to go out and collect your data. Without fail, he would proclaim an early last call at the Duck Tape and be at the trailer, asleep and curled around you at a decent time, so that he wouldn’t be the one holding you up in the morning. Clyde had amassed a basket of trail snacks so the two of you were always fed, and he would, more often than not, be ready and parked on the porch, his tin of coffee in his hand, before you had even brushed your teeth.

Clyde observed how you would work with your equipment when you said that you were just fine handling them on your own, and in just a few times out, he was handing you tools before you even knew you had to ask for them.

It was an improvised dance, but you seemed to be in sync. Clyde anticipated your moves and your needs, making each venture out into the backwoods of West Virginia easier every time. 

By the time you moseyed out in mid-January to collect more data, more indications of the number of eastern cougars in the woods, you would put money down that Clyde could go out by himself and do absolutely everything right. 

With backpacks strapped to your bodies, packed full of equipment and snacks, the two of you trekked out. The trail was covered in a light dusting of snow, and the air around your noses condensed into wisps of mist that were quickly carried away by the slight breeze. The trail was easy, made just a bit more difficult by the icy snow, but it was peaceful. It didn’t take too long to reach the area you had staked with cameras, and the minute you arrived, you got to work. 

“So, the cougars should be in hibernation now right?” he asked as he popped an amber piece of dried apricot into his mouth, gazing at the winter landscape sprawled around you. That boy did love his snacks. 

You shook your head as you fiddled with the memory card of the camera you held in your lap, seated in a bank of snow you had chosen as the day's office chair. “No actually,” you replied, wiping your nose as it ran in the cold. “Cougars don’t hibernate. They have an advantage in the winter, so they stay out and hunting.”

Clyde cocked his eyebrow at you. “Advantage? How so?”

You grunted as you stood up, the tension of the pearlescent fabric of your snow gear working against you as you lifted yourself from the ground. Dusting off the snow that had collected in the hem of your clothing, you began to scan the ground for what you were looking for. It wasn’t hard to find what you were looking for. 

“Oh Clyde, here! Come look.”

He sauntered over, tucking the small bag of apricots into the pocket of his jacket. He crouched down to peer at the spot you were pointing at and he wrapped his arm around your leg, hugging you close. “Alright baby. What am I lookin’ at?'' he looked up to you, one eye squeezed shut in question. 

You laughed and carded your hand through his hair, pushing the thick black waves into a puff on the crown of his head. “You didn’t even give me a chance to show you!,” you huffed, collapsing into a crouch next to him. He removed his arm from your leg just in time, and adjusted it to lay around your waist as you settled next to him. 

You reached your arm out to gesture at the print in front of you. “See this? It’s a cougar paw. Notice anything about it?”

Clyde’s head tilted into you. “Uhh,” he hummed, “it’s got pretty big claws.” He ghosted the outline of the deep punctures the claws had in fact left in the snow. 

Giggling, you turned to plant a kiss on Clyde’s jaw and pushed into it with your nose. “You’re right, they are. But look at the whole paw.” Clyde’s face screwed up. “Darlin’, it looks like just about every paw I’ve seen before.” He shrugged. “Got no clue.”

You splayed your hand over the imprint in the snow. “Look how big it is.” Clyde unwrapped his arm from your body, and eclipsed your hand with his. “Don’t look too big to me,” he teased as he closed his fingers around yours. Laughter pealed from your chest, and you smacked his shoulder with your free hand. “Okay, but look! It is pretty big,” you whined, a faux pout creeping on to your face. 

“Alright, I guess you’re not wrong. But what’s that got to do with hibernation?”

“Their paws help them in winter. They’re fast, agile. They have the advantage, really nothing can escape a cougar in the snow.” You shrugged. “They were made for it. They can get really any prey they want.” 

Clyde whistled. “Impressive. Nature really has a way of workin’ huh?” He reached forward with his metal fingers and laid them next to the print on the white powder. Your eyes softened. You could only guess at what was running through his mind. “Hey,” you whispered, hooking your finger underneath his jaw and pulling his face to look at you. “You know things happen for a reason.”

His soft eyes bored into your own, and you could feel your heart shatter in that instant. Curling your fingers into the skin of his jaw, you beckoned him close, planting a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I know,” he muttered, necking back into you as he gave your side a light squeeze. You reached up to tap his cheek lightly. “C’mon. Let’s get the rest of this done.” The pair of you stood and meandered back to the work you had set out to complete. 

~~~

The last camera to pull down was suspended high on a birch tree.

You gazed up at it, hands firmly planted on your hips. Head cocked, you assessed the easiest way to get it, as you could hear Clyde rustling with his pack behind you. It would be easier for him to get it, you knew that, but you had done it before, so you figured you could do it now. 

The stretch ran down the outside of your arm as you strained to reach the camera, your tongue poking out of the side of your mouth in concentration. You wrapped your arm around the thin birch tree and pushed off of the nearby boulder with your boot. 

“I can just get that camera down for ya darlin’,” Clyde offered as he processed the sounds of your struggle. 

You turned to smile at him. “No thank you, Clyde. Part of the fun is seeing if I can do it.” Your grin split into a smile as you hoisted yourself a few inches higher, just enough for your fingers to snag the mounted camera. You ripped it off of the tree, the zip ties that held it in place snapping back over your knuckles sharply. “Ah hah!” you exclaimed, your hand punching the air to mark your success. You whipped your head around to wink at Clyde and flipped your body to sit right where your foot was planted on the boulder.

You perched on the edge of the boulder and tossed the camera between your hands triumphantly. Clyde sauntered over and pushed your legs apart in one swift movement. He settled his hips between your knees, his hands lifting to settle on the line of your hips. Tilting his head, Clyde looked to the piece of equipment in your hand. “Well look at that darlin’, you got that down real easy,” he mused as he pushed his head forward to nuzzle against your forehead. You grinned as your eyelids drifted shut and you pushed yourself up to reciprocate the caress. 

“Got to where I am somehow, right?” you laughed as your free hand reached up to cup the side of Clydes face. He jerked his eyebrows skyward as he chuckled. “Now, I never said you weren’t good at what you do,” he clarified, his pout becoming more pronounced as he backpedaled his statement. “Just want to help is all.” 

You grinned and slid your hand around to the backside of his neck, tugging him forward to plant a kiss on his plump lower lip, like you had yearned to do so many times before. 

“Don’t worry about me Clyde,” you muttered low against his hot breath. “I can take care of myself.”

He scoffed against your lips and caused a small cloud of air to waft over your skin as he nuzzled his nose into your cheekbone. “I’m always gonna worry about you,” he sighed as he slipped his ice cold fingers, both metal and flesh, under the hem of your tops and pressed them into your skin. You yelped at the sensation and jumped, finding yourself pressed closer to his chest. He chuckled as he pushed small circles into your skin. 

“Chilly?” he huffed as his lips curled into a smile on your own. 

You smacked him playfully, which only made him slide his hands further up your back. A laugh bubbled up your throat, and you threw your head back as you pushed your hands against his strong biceps and your feet kicked at nothing, trying to remove his icicle limbs from your skin. Clyde took the opportunity to dive forward and place kisses along the length of your exposed neck. 

Clyde’s mouth was hot against the skin of your neck. The feeling allowed you to relax, your mind distracted from the cold rivers he traced into your back. The trail of kisses he left was instantly cooled by the crisp mountain air as he trailed his affections down to the slice of skin he had exposed as he tugged down the collar of your sweater. You sighed with content, rolling your head back to provide him access to your pulse. 

He grunted as he was met with resistance from your woolen sweater. It would not budge a single millimeter further, barring him access to your nipple that had been peaked swollen and stiff by the sting of winter. You laughed as you felt the cool metal of his prosthetic tug at the neckline of your top and your hand shot up to capture his jaw and deepen your kiss. 

Clyde leaned into you, his hips splitting your legs further along the rough boulder edge. You leaned back on a deep exhale, and he collapsed on top of you, his pelvis settling in between your spread thighs. His hard erection tented even his padded snow pants and you could feel it against your clothed heat, pulling slick from you. You keened at the feeling and pushed your hips up into his.  “Needy today, baby?” Clyde cooed, peering down his nose to gaze at you, his eyes hooded with arousal. You bit at your lip and sighed. He smirked and straightened up, pulling away from you. He smacked the outside of your thigh and you pouted at how your fleece lined pants absorbed the impact. “C’mon, up,” he ordered. “Need you bent over this rock. Pants down.” 

You pushed yourself out of your prone position and hopped off of the lip of the boulder. Without a second thought, you undid the buttons of your pants and wriggled them down, just far enough to allow Clyde access to your dripping cunt. You shuddered at the sensation of the crisp air blowing across your heat. You inhaled once, twice. Preparing yourself for Clyde, for what he did to you every time, without fail. For when he would split you open effortlessly. 

You were lost in thought, mentally preparing yourself, but you cried out when Clyde split your folds with two fingers. He ran them from your clit to your entrance, collecting your arousal on his ice cold digits. The sensation was unlike anything you had felt before. You were used to soft, warm encounters, under covers or with heaters close by. But the icy bite of his hands made your thighs vibrate, your breath catch. You pushed your hips back into his hand, groaning at the sensation of his thick fingers splitting as they stroked the sides of your clit. 

Clyde tsk’ed and splayed his fingers, grabbing your cunt in his hand to stop the ministrations of your hips. “You know I’ll give you what you need.” He started to rock his hand. “You just gotta be patient for me.” The pressure he so expertly pushed into your wet pussy dragged a low moan from you and he smiled. He loved how you would come apart for him. 

He dragged his fingers over your heat, dancing around your entrance, teasing you. Each movement coaxed a breeze of the frigid air over your exposed heat, and you clenched at the feeling. He felt your skin flutter beneath him and he eased his middle finger into you, relishing in the warmth of your body, the pulse of your walls.

“Oh my god, Clyde,” you groaned as the sensation of his freezing finger filled you up. It made you that much more sensitive. You became aware of parts of yourself like you had never felt before, and your inner walls pulsed in response. “You tryna break my finger off, sweetheart?” Clyde growled into your ear. He rocked in and out of you, and just when his first finger had nearly warmed to your body temperature, he thrust a second in with it. 

You keened at the feeling and lurched forward. Clyde’s arm wrapped around you, his body folded over and draped across your back. He pulled your hips back into him in time with the thrusts of his arm, fingering your deeper, deeper. “Gotta stretch you out,” he crooned. You moaned in response, your head lolling to the side. Clyde rolled his head with you, and suckled at your neck. 

“Fuck, your fingers are so big Clyde,” you whimpered, and he curled his fingers deep inside you. The resulting squelch of your arousal pulled a groan from Clyde, and your walls pulsed on his fingers. 

God, he knew your body. He could make you cry, make you cum, make you worship a nameless god on just two of his fingers. But still, as much as you needed him, he needed you. And taking you in a forest swathed in white was more than a fantasy, it was a goddamn dream. 

You focused on the frigid surface of the rock, trying to avoid thrusting your hips back into Clyde’s hand, when he ripped his hand from you. A high whine fell from your lips in protest, even though you could already hear Clyde grappling with his pants. You knew what would follow and you yearned for it nonetheless. 

You dragged your fingers across the rough face of the rock until your focus was suddenly shattered by the sensation of Clyde’s thick girth splitting your lips open as he eased into you at a snail’s pace. Inch by inch he pushed into you, taking his time to feel your flesh give way to him, and your mouth fell open into a silent cry. 

It was blissful torture. 

Clyde was a behemoth. No matter how many times he speared you with his thick, veiny girth, each time felt like your first. It was a delicious burn, a delightful pressure. You could have sworn you felt the head of his cock drag over the ripples and ridges of your pussy, and you tilted your hips, allowing him access to the deepest parts of you. 

Your nipples strained with arousal, the stiff buds almost painful as they brushed against your sweater. “Clyde-e,” you panted, barely able to pull in breath with the sharp pressure of Clyde filling you completely. He knocked the breath out of you with each thrust forward, and when he heard your sigh he laughed. 

“Oh darlin’, you can’t even talk?” He taunted lovingly. “Damn shame, you got such a pretty voice.” He fell forward to whisper in your ear. “Love hearin’ you whine for me baby. Wonder if I can get you to anyway.” Clyde’s hips jerked forward and the spongy hot head of his cock rammed into you. Your mouth fell open into a voiceless gasp, and he blew out a breath of disapproval. 

“Now that just won't do.”

With his metal arm braced against the boulder in front of you, Clyde shoved his free hand into your pants. He found your clit in a second and circled it tightly with the rough pad of his middle finger. Your pussy squeezed his cock on each thrust into you, and you felt a familiar warmth begin to build within your stomach. 

Clyde felt the whispers of you beginning to tighten up on him and he smirked. “Feelin’ good?” he hummed. You nodded silently in response. He squeezed your waist. “What was that?”

“It feels good… ah!” you replied breathily, exclaiming as Clyde’s finger hit the underside of your clit just right, and made your knees turn to jelly. He grinned. “That’s right.”

Almost immediately, he let up. It was almost as if he wanted to drag this out, hold you right at the precipice of orgasm without letting you tip over for as long as he can. And if you had asked him? That was precisely what he wanted. 

The warm blanket of his body left your back and the rush of cool air sent a shiver through every end of every nerve. “Fuck, you take me so good.” Clyde groaned as he leaned back and stared down at where his thick length disappeared into you. “This pretty pussy takes me so deep.” 

You whined at his words. It was the only sound you could manage to push past your lips as he rocked in and out of you. 

Clyde couldn’t rip his eyes from your cunt as he watched you swallow him so easily. His jaw was slack, and he could have drooled had he not been snapped from his reverie by your whine. On his next thrust, he leaned forward, wrapped his arm around you, and yanked you up to his chest. “Fuck!” you gasped as the new arch in your back let Clyde pummel your cervix, knocking into you on each thrust. 

He groaned, deep and gravely. “Oh shit, you’re so sexy darlin’.” Clyde’s breath caught as he felt your walls begin to flutter and spasm. He shoved his face into the crook of your shoulder and blew his hot breath across your ear. “You about to cum pretty girl? You about to cum on my cock?” 

You keened. “Yes, Clyde, yes!” 

“Rub that little clit for me baby, cum for me right now.” 

You shoved your hand in your pants in an instant, finding your swollen clit and spreading your juices around the nub. You rubbed it furiously, your mind nearly numb with the overwhelming feeling of Clyde splitting you in two. The pressure mounted steadily in your stomach, the pressure of impending orgasm, and you could feel your thighs beginning to shake. You sighed his name. 

“Yeah baby?”

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming.”

You cried out as your orgasm crashed over you and you felt your walls pulsing, clenching on Clyde’s length. He groaned into your ear, and you felt the familiar warmth of his spend gush out of your pussy as he worked you both through your orgasms.

You pulsed together, his thrusts slowly, slowly, slowly coming to a stop, until he was still against you. Your thighs shook against him and he pulled up on your waist, easing the burden of your position off of your legs. Panting, Clyde turned his head to plant a kiss on your temple. His lips lingered on your skin, and you felt his hot breath puff against your forehead, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Fuck darlin’,” Clyde muttered into you. “You feel so good, I don’t want to move.” He ducked his head and nibbled at your earlobe. “I could just stay here. Wait ‘til I get hard again, and fuck you right here again, on your hands and knees,” he growled. 

You reached your palm up to cup his cheek. “As good as that sounds, I think we might freeze before we got the chance.” Clyde sighed and leaned into your palm.

“I guess.”

You stayed like that, connected, reveling in the feeling of the other, for a few beats longer. That was, until the chill of the air finally did settle over the parts you had exposed to the elements, and you started to feel that familiar bite of winter. Carefully, Clyde eased himself out of you, and you missed the comforting pressure deep in your stomach. 

You shimmied your pants over your ass and slotted the button into its hole, and you felt the stickiness of Clyde’s cum start to leak from you. You looked down to your pants, hoping the viscous liquid wouldn’t start to seep through. As you looked for any spots of wetness, you spied a curious item on the ground.

“Oh fuck Clyde,” you breathed, your eyes transfixed on a particular spot on the ground.

“What’s that darlin’?” he asked as he jumped slightly to yank his pants back up his body. You nodded your head towards the offending area. 

The camera you had just pulled down from the trees had found a new home on the floor, the lens pointed up to the sky. Just below where you and Clyde had just fucked.

“It’s motion activated.” You could feel your cheeks warming at the thought of it, and your eyes widened as you realized just what that meant.  

Clyde on the other hand found the humor in the situation. He chuckled and reached down to scoop up the piece of equipment and turned it over in his hands. “Hm. Well, sounds like we made a little surprise home video,” he teased with a wink. 

You threw your hands over your face and rubbed your eyes. “Oh god, I have to edit that right away,” you groaned. Your fingers split open over your eyes, and you stared Clyde down. “Promise to not let me forget, I can’t let that get to anyone.” 

“Of course darlin’,” Clyde wove his arm around your lower back and pulled you close to plant a kiss on your forehead. “As long as you keep the footage you cut.” You rolled your eyes and landed a joking smack on his chest. “Hey!” he scoffed with a wink. “Least you can do, me helping you out on these missions like this and all. It can be my payment.”

“Oh, you know you like coming out here.” You wagged your tongue at him and turned to collect your bags. Almost immediately you were stopped by a sharp pinch to your ass, and you yelped. You shot a glare back at Clyde, trying to suppress the smile about to break across your face. He laughed, scooped his pack up from the ground, and wove his arm around your waist. Clyde didn’t let go of you the entire hike back to the trailer. 

~~~

Taglist: @mind-p0llution @thedivinemissm @clydesducktape @finn-ray-nal-beads @ladygrey03 @desiraypark @1800-fight-me @aloneandsleepless​ @hopeamarsu​ (Comment or message me to be added or removed!)

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, noahreidhours!

For @noahreidhours. You wanted angst, have some angst (and some fluff, I guess)

*****

It starts like an avalanche, a small, defined moment that coalesces into something much bigger. Derek can’t pinpoint the exact moment everything clicked into place and the snow started, metaphorically, tumbling down the mountain, but once it started, it didn’t slow, didn’t stop, and couldn’t be avoided.

Derek has been convinced for so long that good things didn’t happen to him, that when things start looking up, he tries to quash it away as best as he can, in the only way he knows how; he bares his claws and snaps his fangs.

He doesn’t know when it stopped working on Stiles.

— — — — — —

It must be a day that ends in Y, because Stiles goes missing a few days after the pack discovers something hinky going on out in the preserve. Boyd and Erica have both found evidence of some sort of magical presence - fire pits that stink of non-native herbs, a spool of twine, a silver coin, several rocks and tree trunks painted with strange runes that even have Deaton scratching his head - and not even Derek is able to catch a scent.

Things really go ass over tea kettle when, one day later, Alison goes missing, too.

Chris Argent calls in every favor owed to him to aid in the search. Chris vouches for every hunter that comes to town, swears that they keep to the code, but Derek trusts them about as far as he can spit.

Derek delegates that Chris and his hunters can search one half of the preserve, while he and his wolves check the other half. Boyd and Erica make up one group, Scott and Isaac the other. Jackson and Lydia are holding down the fort, so to speak; Danny’s hacked into the database that stores the video for traffic cams across town, and the three of them are going through it in hopes they can find something. Thus, Derek searches alone. After all, he’s the strongest, he’s the alpha.

It’s more coincidence and dumb luck than expert tracking that Derek finds them at all.

The moon is high, and he pauses by the stream that runs through the preserve, scenting the air. He smells nothing but the forest around him, crisp and clear and just a little damp from the afternoon rain.

That’s when he hears it, a strange sound that has him freezing in place. It sounds muffled, like hearing a TV or radio in another part of a house, softly faded but just loud enough that, if you listen closely, you can make out a word or two every now and then.

Derek hears the sound again, but this time he’s ready for it, and he leaps off his vantage point and tears through the underbrush, teeth gnashing, eyes red.

He skids to a halt when he enters a small clearing. A length of red twine connects seven trees until it comes back on itself, making a lumpy circle of sorts. Off each length of twine, between one tree and the next, hang small wooden tokens, square in shape, twine threaded through a hole near one of the corners. Derek thinks there might be writing or runes on them, but he’s too focused on what’s inside the circle to investigate further. On two slabs, floating several feet off the ground, are both Stiles and Alison, tied up with what looks like the same twine that surrounds them. He can’t make out Stiles’ upper body due to a tree blocking his line of sight, but he’d recognize those lanky legs and scuffed-up high-tops anywhere. He sees Alison’s profile, and, unfortunately, she doesn’t look too great. There’s a length of cloth tied around her head acting as a gag, and her face is sporting more than a few bruises and cuts.

That’s not all, though, because of course it isn’t. Good things don’t happen to Derek Hale, remember?

Not one, not two, but three hulking, vaguely human-shaped figures stand within the circle, along with a single hooded figure.

What’s more is that Derek can’t smell any of them.

When he sees one of the mammoth figures move a bit, he realizes that he can’t hear them, either.

The figure that had started moving comes to a stop next to the slap Stiles is tied up on. It raises a gigantic, meaty fist and-

Derek is moving before his brain can catch up with his feet. He tears out of the foliage, and as he passes into the circle, a strange feeling ripples through him, sends a shiver down his spine.

Witchcraft.

The hooded figure takes one look at Derek and then flees like his ass is on fire. Derek moves to give chase, but narrowly misses the haymaker one of the lumbering figures throws at him. He flips backward to dodge it, and with it his shoulder catches a length of twine, his body weight snapping it easily.

A little more hell breaks loose after that, because why not, right? In for a penny, in for a pound. As soon as the twine snaps, the two slabs holding Stiles and Alison fall to the ground with a tremendous sound that makes Derek wince.

The three figures don’t pause in their assault, however. They move fast for their size, and when Derek executes a move that would take off the arm of a normal being, he almost twists his spine in two trying to dodge the creature’s countermove.

“Derek!” he hears Alison yell.

“Little busy!” Derek shouts back, snaking behind a tree.

“No, Derek, they’re golems! There’s a word carved into their foreheads! If you erase the first letter, they’ll stop moving!”

It takes some fancy footwork on Derek’s part to manage to get high enough to reach the creature’s forehead, but one well-placed claw swipe has the golem crumbling into dirt. The next golem goes down as easy as the first, but the third gets in a good punch. It sends Derek flying back, but he easily rights himself. As he moves back to his full height, he bites his teeth and pops his shoulder back into the socket. For one moment, he feels a searing pin-point of white-hot pain, but it’s over in the blink of an eye, and Derek’s back to being fight-ready.

He snarls, then charges the creature, his dense muscles knocking the thing off balance. Another swipe to a forehead and the golem crumbles under him.

Derek jumps back to his feet quick as he can, rushing back to where Stiles and Alison still are. Alison’s managed to free herself, and Derek dashes to her side, using the claw of his index finger to cut loose the twine that binds Stiles’ hands together. After that, he cuts the gag free from the boy’s face.

Stiles doesn’t thank him, because Stiles is out cold, and a little more than a little worse for the weather. He’s got a black eye and a fat lip, and there’s a dark, ugly bruise peeking out from the dip of his t-shirt.

“Can you-” Alison starts to ask, but Derek’s already scooping Stiles’ unconscious body into his arms.

“Are you alright to walk?” he asks Alison.

“I’ll be fine if we go slow.”

It takes almost an hour to get back to where Derek had parked the Camaro. Derek has Alison reach into his pocket to grab his phone and call the others, then, when that’s done, she tells him the story of what had happened since she’d been taken.

Stiles wakes up right as Derek is able to see the road.

“Am I being carried like a damsel in distress?” Stiles slurs.

“I could have thrown you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes,” Derek answers. He’s at least a little pleased Stiles feels good enough to be sarcastic. Though, to be fair, there’s never really a time Stiles isn’t sarcastic. Even in life-or-death situations, he can’t keep his mouth shut.

“Oh, man, don’t talk about food. I haven’t eaten in three days.”

Derek growls at that, displeased. He thought it had been a trick of the moonlight, but Stiles’ cheeks and eyes looked sallow and thin when Derek had picked him up.

Alison reaches into his other pocket and frees his keys and helps Derek gently heft Stiles into the passenger’s seat, the back of the chair laid as far back as it can go. Once safely seat-belted in, Derek lets Alison climb into the back.

The trip back to town is quiet. It’s a little disconcerting, considering what a motormouth Stiles usually is. Derek can tell he’s not sleeping from the patterns of his breathing and heartbeat, but he keeps his eyes closed and his body still all the same.

Everyone is already gathered back at Stiles’ house, and Derek is more than relieved for the lack of police cruiser in the driveway.

Scott crowds around Alison, helping her out of the back seat of the Camaro, and Chris’ face scrunches up like he’s just caught a bad smell.

Derek doesn’t really bother with anyone else, though Erica is the one who opens the front door for him. He carefully navigates up the stairs and brings Stiles into the bathroom that’s across the hall from his room, carefully seating him atop the closed lid of the toilet. He rids the boy of his shoes first, then his shirt, while allowing the sink faucet to run until the water turns warm. He wets a washcloth and rings it dry, handing it to Stiles as he fishes for the first aid-kit under the sink.

“Wait, you get the golems?” Stiles asks, scrubbing at his face.

“All three that were there. It was eerie, the way they didn’t give off a scent.”

“Golems are made out of clay or dirt. If they were made out of stuff from the preserve, of course you wouldn’t be able to sniff ‘em out. They’d just - ah, hey, careful!”

“Quit whining, it’s just peroxide. There’s a few cuts next to your black eye. And they’d just what?”

“They’d just smell like the rest of the forest.”

Derek nods, feeling a little relieved over the idea that his inability to scent the monsters hadn’t been due to some inadequacy on his part. Still, if the witch decided to make more, he’d have the same problem…

Once Stiles is patched up, Derek helps him into his bedroom and gets him to sit on the bed, grabbing him a change of clothing.

“How did you find us, anyway?” he asks.

Derek furrows his brows. He can no longer hear anyone outside of the Stilinski home, and finds himself inexplicably annoyed over the fact that no one else had come to check on Stiles after Derek had brought him into the house.

“I heard something. I don’t know what it was, but it was loud enough to get my attention.”

Stiles’ grin is blinding. “Knew it!”

Derek raises an eyebrow, trying to appear unimpressed.

“The twine wrapped around the trees and the runes on the square pieces of wood made up a silencing spell. I managed to snag a handful of gravel, and had spent the next, like, hour throwing it outside of the barrier, piece by piece.”

Derek blinks, taken off guard. Stiles’ thrown-together-on-a-hunch plan had literally been what helped Derek find them. “Smart,” he says, as close to a compliment as he’s willing to give.

Stiles grins wider in response, and something inside Derek twists a little.

“Well, I mean, it’s what got me clocked upside the head,” Stiles says as he gestures to his rather beat-up face. “And, hey, thanks for patching me up, man.”

Derek nods. “Get dressed, I’ll get you something to eat.”

Down in the kitchen, Derek makes two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, then fills a glass with water, since he figures if Stiles is hungry, he’s likely a little dehydrated, too. When he’s back inside Stiles’ room, Stiles has changed his clothes, though the boy is now laying half on the bed, his knees bent and feet flat on the floor.

Derek puts the food on the bedside table.

“Get some rest,” he tells Stiles and he heads for the window.

“Derek,” Stiles calls.

Derek stops, and then turns his head over his shoulder.

“I mean it.” Stiles’ voice is softer, and Derek can hear the sincerity in his tone. “Thanks for the rescue and the Florence Nightingale treatment. And thanks for, you know, the whole golem-slaying thing. Though I am a little disappointed I didn’t get to see them go down. You’ll have to give me a play-by-play so I can add it to the bestiary.”

“Get some rest, Stiles,” Derek reiterates, avoiding saying anything else by means of jumping out the window.

He knows what that pang had been, there, in his chest, behind his heart.

After all, he’d felt it twice before.

And each time had ended in utter ruination for him.

So Derek does what he’s taught himself to do in order to keep himself safe.

He ignores it.

— — — — — —

Three weeks later and the door to the loft swings open, and Stiles, in a flurry of over-gesticulation and an almost-incomprehensible string of words, storms inside. He smells like anger and hurt, and makes a b-line for the musty, second-hand couch.

“What are you doing here?” Derek asks, crossing his arms in front of his chest and doing his best to glower.

But Stiles is already unloading his laptop from his backpack, his face screwed up in frustration. “I just need, like, an hour, okay?”

“For what?” Derek snaps back.

Stiles doesn’t even seem to notice how angry Derek had made himself sound.

“Dad’s up my ass about why I looked like I went ten rounds with Muhammad Ali the other week. I hate lying to him, but I’m not about to spill the proverbial beans about Beacon Hill’s propensity for the supernatural, so I didn’t have a choice. He’s not listening to it, which, hey, I get, but I can still get mad about it when he accuses me of being in a gang.”

Derek sits in his favorite armchair. It’s the one with the least amount of foreign scents.

Stiles turns to look at him. “Me. In a gang. I’m hardly a buck forty soaking wet.”

He can’t help it, Derek lets out a soft wuff of a laugh.

Stiles blinks at him a little in surprise and a little in awe, and Derek doesn’t miss the sudden uptick in the boy’s heartbeat. He quickly schools his features back into a scowl. “So you need an hour because your dad thinks your extracurricular activities are of a more nefarious nature?”

The spell is broken and Stiles rolls his eyes. “I need an hour because I’m really good at being an asshole when I’m mad and blurting stupid things out.”

“No, you do that on a pretty continual basis, angry or not.”

Stiles glares. “Yeah, ha ha, sassy-wolf. Laugh it up. I need an hour to do my homework in peace before he leaves for his shift, and this was the only place I could think of with a couch and outlet where I didn’t have to buy a menu item every half hour to occupy.”

Derek leans back, reaching for his unfinished book on the coffee table. “If you take anything from the kitchen, I’m charging you.”

“Love you too, big bad,” Stiles says, eyes focused on the start-up screen of his computer.

And while the boy does well to hide his tone with layers of sarcasm, Derek almost drops his book when he doesn’t hear the tell-tale skip of a lie in Stiles’ heartbeat.

He swallows, breaths out through his nose, then pushes it out of his mind. It doesn’t matter, it will never matter. Derek Hale doesn’t get nice things. No, that’s not entirely true - when Derek Hale gets nice things, the world around him crashes and burns. Sometimes literally.

— — — — — —

Isaac gets launched backward, and Derek hears him hit the wall. The concrete indents slightly where Isaac had landed, but he’s back on his feet in a heartbeat, looking more than a little pissed.

“Once I’m in charge of the territory,” the beastly intruder growls, “I’ll kill everyone that ever associated with you.” The creature laughs. “And then, I’ll turn everyone else!”

Derek’s ready for the creature to charge at him. He’s the alpha, and the beast - Derek’s weary to call it a werewolf, given how different it looks in comparison, but Stiles had been adamant - wants that alpha spark.

But even as Derek braces for impact, the blow never comes because in the next second, moving with a speed Derek didn’t know he was capable of, Stiles runs and leaps at the beast. Above his head, ready to be swung downward and clutched tightly in both hands, is, of all things. A baseball bat.

But Stiles never does things in halves, oh no. It’s not in his nature.

The baseball bat connects with the back of the beast, an awful, meaty sound echoes throughout the room. The creature stills, then falls to his knees.

“Wh-wh-wh-”

Derek notices that Stiles’ hands are empty and the bat is somehow stuck to the back of the creature.

“I carved that from a branch of mountain ash, and drove nails coated with a liquid wolfsbane mixture.”

In complete and utter awe, Derek blinks at Stiles.

The boy doesn’t notice. He’s still staring at the incapacitated creature as it sways on its knees, then falls on its side.

“The nails make sure it stays niiice and stuck in you, and the mountain ash is a great paralytic when used like this.”

“Holy shit,” Derek hears Scott whisper.

“Now, because the wolfsbane is a mixture, there’s no way for you to naturally find what’s in it before it kills you. I have the antidote.”

True to his word, Stiles pulls out a small vial from his pocket.

“I’m giving you two options. You can lay here and die, and hey, that solves all of my problems. Or I can take the bat out, give you the antidote, and you’ll never hurt anyone again.”

The beast growls from his position on the floor. “Wh- what’s to st-st-stop me from going b-b-back on my w-word?”

Stiles smiles. “Because Alison Argent’s archery skills rival Hawkeye, and I made her entire cache of arrows the same way I made the bat stuck in your back.”

“Okay, I s-s-swear.”

It’s hard to miss the fear in the beast’s eyes.

Stiles, without any soft of gentleness, puts his foot on the side of the beast, then uses it as leverage to pull what Derek now knows to be a nail bat from his flesh. It’s a sickening sound, and a few of the nails drip with fur and blood, but as soon as it’s free, the beast takes in a shuddering gasp of air. Stiles tosses the vial on the floor next to the creature, then digs out a lighter from his pocket.

“You have until sunrise to get out of the county.”

Stiles doesn’t look back as he walks toward the door, and everyone follows suit, including Derek.

Outside, as they near their cars, Derek watches as Stiles gestures for Isaac to come near. Careful to stay a fair distance away, Derek watches as Stiles looks over Isaac like a doting mother hen might.

“I’m fine. The broken ribs already healed,” he hears Isaac say.

Stiles nods, then pats Isaac on the shoulder. As Isaac walks away, Stiles looks around and makes eye-contact with Derek. The boy gestures him over, then turns around and starts digging in the back seat of his Jeep, where he’d stashed his ridiculous weapon.

“What?” Derek asks as he nears.

Stiles doesn’t even turn around, just hands him a bundle of stuff. When Derek takes it, he sees it’s a pack of baby-wipes and a new shirt.

Derek’s lack of movement is likely what tipped Stiles off, because it’s not a moment later when he speaks. “I know how much you hate getting crap in your car. Figured this would come in handy eventually.”

Staring at the shirt and package of wipes in his hands, Derek’s mind races. Stiles had kept an extra shirt in his car. But not an extra shirt for him, no. Because as Derek holds up the shirt, he can see that it’s not in Stiles’ size; it’s in his.

His mouth goes dry as he turns away and heads toward his Camaro.

— — — — — —

It never gets any easier, the anniversary of when his family had…

But he hasn’t visited his mother’s grave since he and Laura left, and as much as it hurts, he knows he should. Maybe it’ll finally give him a little closure, or maybe Derek just likes inflicting all manner of pain upon himself; it could go either way.

What surprises him, however, is the fresh bouquet of flowers already decorating his mother’s headstone. He blinks in surprise, then furrows his brow. It’s been years since his family had died. Who would bring them flowers after all this time?

The cemetery is mostly dark. It’s just before sundown, and the tall trees that pepper the pristine-grass and well-kept headstones make long shadows. But who is Derek kidding, he’d recognize that stupid red hoodie anywhere.

Part of him is mad, and he doesn’t quite understand why. Misplaced anger, maybe, or something more deeply rooted. As he nears Stiles’ sitting form, ready to verbally tear into the kid, he stops short.

“And, like, you should have seen it! The whole kitchen was a mess!” Stiles laughs, then the sound tapers out into a sigh. “He misses you. I mean, I miss you, too. But I know it’s different for dad. When you lose someone you love the way dad loves you, it’s like you’ve lost a piece of yourself.”

Derek swallows.

Stiles sighs again, then rubs a palm over his face. “And I know I’m not making it any easier on him. But you understand why I can’t say anything, right? He’d blow his top, never let me leave the house. Sometimes I wish I could tell him. And maybe someday I might, or I might be forced to. But I have to protect my friends before I can protect his feelings.”

There’s a long, sad silence that follows. Eventually, Stiles moves to stand and Derek maneuvers to hide himself behind a tree. “Thanks for listening, mom. And thanks for sharing your flowers.”

When Derek gets home, he showers, then eats a bowl of cereal just to get something into his system. He lays in bed, staring at the exposed pipes and beams of the ceiling. Sleep doesn’t steal him away for some time.

— — — — — —

Things stay quiet for a time, which suits Derek just fine. It means he doesn’t have to deal with people; he holes up in his loft and marathons shitty TV shows on the streaming service Stiles had insisted be set up. When he can’t stand to look at the TV any longer, he reads. And, when he runs out of books, he finally leaves the warmth and solitude of his flat to venture out to the grocery store. He stocks up on what he knows he’s out of, without any sort of meal-plan in mind, then scours the pathetic section of books he finds in the same aisle as the greeting cards. Most of them have ridiculous covers and names - bodice-rippers, uncle Peter used to call them - but he finds a few that at least look somewhat promising before he heads to the checkout.

He’s almost completely done putting away the groceries when he hears Stiles let himself in. How the little shit had managed to get a key made or copied in the first place is outside the realms of Derek’s imagination.

When he turns around, it’s to see Stiles, holding out two small, wrapped gifts.

Derek furrows his brow.

One present is wrapped in Star Wars Christmas paper - R2D2 is sporting a rather stylish Santa hat - and the other, much to Derek’s surprise, is wrapped in what appears to be birthday-themed paper.

He looks up and is met with Stiles’ soft smile. “One’s for Christmas, one’s for your birthday,” Stiles tells him, like this kind of interaction is completely normal for the two of them.

When Derek doesn’t move to take them, Stile rolls his eyes and just puts them on the table. “Open ‘em or don’t, Scrooge-wolf. I’m not trying to put pressure on you or anything.”

Even though Stiles has told him there’s no pressure, Derek’s pretty sure the amount of pressure he currently feels rivals that of the deepest part of the ocean. After a moment, he musters up his, what? Courage? Fortitude? Doesn’t matter. He takes a deep breath, and reaches first for the Christmas present first. Red and green light-sabers and Princess Leia with reindeer antlers peel away to reveal a box. Inside the box is a little tissue, and when Derek finally gets what he supposes is the actual gift free of the packaging, he stills. The mug is plain white, but on the side are printed letters.

What do you call a wolf that

has his shit figured out?…

Aware-wolf!

Derek shoots Stiles a look of disdain, but it doesn’t seem to deter the boy. He’s grinning like an idiot. “I got one for Isaac that says ‘What do you call a beta wolf? A sub-woofer.’”

Derek rolls his eyes, but he lets his lips curl up into a slight smile. Terrible as the Stiles’ jokes may be, it’s not hard to see that they are never meant to be harmful.

The birthday present is next, and Stiles seems excited about this one. He leans forward a little as Derek tears open the paper. It’s another box, but it’s much smaller, and when Derek opens this one, he’s confused for a moment.

It’s a ring. But it looks like some kind of wood and epoxy mixture, with the wood making the ring portion of it and the epoxy forming an almost rectangular shape on one side. He takes it out of the box carefully and looks it over. The wood inlay looks splintered, and the transparent epoxy holds… a little moon?

“I don’t expect you to wear it or anything,” Stiles says. “It’s, uh, it’s a piece of wood from your old house. And I made the moon out of clay, because I thought, well, with the whole werewolf thing and-”

“Get out.” Derek’s voice is low and cold.

Stiles freezes. “I’m sorry, I thought you’d-”

“Get. Out.” When Stiles doesn’t move, Derek growls and lunges forward, taking a handful of Stiles’ shirt and pulling him toward the door. He shoves Stiles through and into the hallway, then slams the door before he can catch a glimpse of Stiles’ expression. He locks the door, then leans on it, the ring still clutched in one hand.

“I’m sorry, Derek,” Stiles says.

Derek doesn’t move, hardly breathes. He stays pressed against the door as he hears Stiles walk away. He remains there longer still, far past when he can hear the Jeep start and Stiles drive away.

He peels off his clothes and climbs into bed, despite it being four in the afternoon. He pulls the covers over his head like he used to when he was little, when his mom would turn out the light after tucking him in.

For a long time now, Derek’s mastered the art of trying to not care. The walls around his heart are made of solid steel, layers upon layers.

But now there’s a hole somewhere in that barrier.

He doesn’t cry. To be honest, he doesn’t think he can. He’d cried himself stupid after the fire, had sobbed almost every night for the six months following, and then he just… closed up. He’d shut the door and locked the deadbolt, because kindness and sincerity and just a dash of naivety had been the perfect mix to allow for someone to manipulate him. What had he left now? Every one he’d ever allowed himself to love were dead and gone.

And Derek couldn’t do that to Stiles, couldn’t put the burden of the curse of his heart, of him vulnerable, on Stiles’ shoulders.

— — — — — —

“Stiles, hey - hey, keep your eyes open!”

Derek’s voice is frantic. He cups Stiles’ head in his broad palms, a protective barrier between the back of the boy’s head and the cement below.

Stiles blinks one eye open - the other is already swollen shut.

They’d found the witch with a penchant for creating golems, the one that had kidnapped Stiles and Alison months ago. But this time, instead of three, the damn bastard had made an army of the fuckers, giant, lumbering automatons that swung their ham-sized fists without restraint.

The fight was dirty and tiresome, and even Derek, who’s been a wolf since birth, is tired and nearly out of breath.

Stiles’ good hand, the one not resting in an unnatural manner, rises up and tugs on something that’s dangling from around Derek’s neck. His blood-splattered lips curl up into a smile, or as much as he can make of one, considering the awful state he’s in.

“Scott’s already called Malissa; there’s an ambulance on the way. Just stay awake for me, just-”

“Sourwolf, you kept it.”

Derek pauses, then looks to see what Stiles holds.

It’s the ring made with the wood of his house and the little moon sculpted by Stiles’ own fingers.

“Thought you hated me after I gave this to you.”

Unsure of what to say, Derek just shakes his head.

Stiles coughs, and Derek can hear the strain. It’s a wet sound, and Stiles is slow to take air back in. One of his lungs has likely either been punctured, or has already collapsed.

Derek’s hands are shaking.

“I need a favor, big bad.”

Stiles cuts Derek off before he has time to protest.

“If I don’t make it, keep my dad safe, alright? Make sure he’s… make sure he’s okay.”

“You’re going to be fine, Stiles.”

Stiles just smiles, blinking slowly.

“And you.”

“Me? Derek breathes.

“Allow yourself to have something nice, damnit. You deserve nice things. I know that shit’s been really bad for you for a long time, but you shouldn’t let the hurt that might come outweigh any good that comes before.”

It feels like someone has Derek’s heart in a vice-grip. He swallows, licks his lips, then does just that.

Derek Hale allows himself to have something nice.

He kisses Stiles square on the mouth.

— — — — — —

There’s no other choice to make.

They tell the sheriff what happened. Exactly what happened. Scott fumbles through a lot in his attempt at an explanation, but Derek backs him up, and is the one to shift when the sheriff threatens to have them all arrested unless they tell him the actual truth.

How could they not? His son, his only living blood, looks like he’d been in a one-on-one match with a woodchipper. The hospital did well to keep Stiles alive, but he’d flat-lined on the operation table twice, and Derek had nearly cracked his teeth from clenching so hard. Once stable, Stiles had been set up in a private room, though he hadn’t woken up yet.

Derek’s been at his side for three straight days.

Isaac brings him a change of clothes and something to sleep in, saying that even the nurses were starting to complain.

Sheriff Stilinski doesn’t seem to know what to make of the twenty-something-year-old young man that never leaves his son’s side longer than it takes for him to use the shower or restroom. But, well, he can guess. He’s not really happy with it, of course not. All things considered, however, his son is still alive, isn’t some kind of creature of the night of myth or legend, and has what likely constitutes to be as close to a superhero as you can get at his son’s back; things could have gone a lot worse.

He’ll give Stiles a week before he’s grounded until he’s eighty.

— — — — — —

Derek slides the window open. He sees Stiles partially sprawled out on his bed, laptop balanced precariously on top of a pillow.

“Hey, sourwolf,” he greets. His eyes look less sunken in, though he still hasn’t gained back all of the weight he’d lost.

Clothing the window, Derek toes his shoes off and comes to rest on the other side of Stiles’ bed. It’s small, more than a little cramped, but they make it work.

He gets comfortable, and, as soon as he’s settled, Stiles hooks a leg over his, then reaches out and laces their fingers together, all the while never moving his eyes from the screen.

It’s slow-going, this thing between them, partially because Stiles is still very much on the mend, and partially because Derek still has a hard time with intimacy, especially showing affection.

If it bothers Stiles at all, Derek would never know because it’s never been brought up. Stiles is perceptive, can obviously guess why Derek sometimes still stiffens when they touch, but he doesn’t push. It’s sweet, he thinks, the way they are slow-dancing around one another. They hold hands and watch movies, with legs or heads in laps. They press their shoulders against one another when they go out to eat and take up a single side of the booth.

They kiss.

That’s something new to Derek, the slow press of lips without the promise of something in the distance, kissing just to kiss, tasting one another for the sheer thrill of it, and then backing off slowly, with no one’s feelings hurt.

Stiles falls asleep, his head resting on Derek’s shoulder.

The avalanche has passed.

[jj-ktae]

·15/32· Cam Boy - Prompt Game -

Title : Cam Boy Genre : Smut-ish, fluff Words : 1729 Pairing : Im Jaebeom x Fem!reader Summary : Your boyfriend is abroad and during one of your daily video sessions, he gets wild, as usual. 

Prompts : 

31. “It is a kink, and I’m starting to think it’s the only reason you’re dating me.” 61. “Your voice is sexy.” 6. “Feel free to borrow my body.” 37. “I can hear you smirking at me!”

PROMPT GAME - MASTERLIST - An : The requests are closed, lovelies <3 

-- 

Cam Boy 

“Can you see me?”

You roll on your stomach, arms grabbing your pillow to let your phone rest on it. Your screen shows your boyfriend, freshly out of the shower and drying his hair.

“Yep!” You raise a thumb at the screen and see him smiling, hands busy as he takes a sit on a chair.

“It’s more stable with a laptop, how do you manage with your tiny phone?” His voice is playful and even though you can barely see his face behind the long towel, you can feel how amused he is.

“It’s my will to see you, Jaebeommie.” You tease, laughing when he stops to glare playfully at you over his webcam.

“I’m shirtless and still wet yet you call me Jaebeommie? I might step up my game next time…” he teases, his voice going deeper.

“Your voice is sexy…” You whisper, hiding behind your pillow and earning a groan from him. “Your hair has gotten so long, when will you cut it?” you ask when you see him shake his head.

He lets the towel rest on his shoulders and shrugs. “I don’t know. I thought you said you liked them long, though?” He leans on the chair, displaying his chest and you’re suspecting he is trying to turn you on.

Which is totally working.

“I just need to know when I won’t be able to grab your long locks anymore...” You explain, smiling. “I need to prepare, y’know…”

“We’ve just started and you’re already tempting me, aren’t you?” Jaebum grunts, his body contracting involuntarily. 

“Says the guy who is half-naked and freshly out of the shower.” You answer, rolling on your back.

You see him stare at the screen, eyes aiming for your covered chest.

“That tank top is hiding you. I don’t like you dressed like this.” He admits shamelessly, ruffling his hair once more.

“It’s cold here, not everyone is in a country where it’s summer all year long.” You tease again, making him roll his eyes.

Jaebeom has been gone for three weeks now. Work was taking a lot of his time but he had started this ritual where he would call you in hope he’d see your face. You found the gesture awfully cute and so unlike him, but then you discovered he was actually luring you into something more…sexy.

It ended into a mess a couple of times already. Said times involved hot videos of him moaning your name.

Surprisingly – and secretly, you love it.

Jaebeom explained he needed this to deal with the distance and you completely agree. Especially when you get to see him half-naked and already horny.

He coughs to get your attention, his patience fading. You can only comply and sit on your bed. You try to find a good way to keep your phone stable and lift your top, revealing a black bra. 

“Now I’m cold, you happy?” Your fake complaints disappear when your boyfriend approaches the screen and tilts his head, like a predator hunting his next prey.

“You’ll warm up pretty soon…” He lets the sentence die in the silence, leaving you with nothing but the sound of your breathing, speeding with anticipation.

When you say nothing, he raises a brow, enjoying the view yet in need of something to keep him going. He thinks for a minute, a hand under his chin. “Let’s say I am a cam boy and you’re paying for my services. What would you ask of me?”

You swallow heavily, head now flooded with flashes of unholy movements, “Would you even comply? I didn’t think you could be the type to do what you’re asked.” Your smile is a way to hide your excitement and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Jaebeom, who purses his lips, nodding.

“Try me.”

You shiver, legs going on each side of your phone and back resting on your pillows. “Alright, how about you show yourself better…?” 

Jaebeom doesn’t waste a second, the sound of his chair sliding on the floor echoing as he appears, from head to toe, slightly further away from the screen. “Like this?” he teases, leaning against the chair and displaying his whole body. 

Now now, you didn’t expect him to be in his boxers only.

“I was about to tell you to remove your pants but I guess you don’t need to do that…” You hum, hands on your thighs and nails scratching your skin.

Jaebeom doesn’t miss a thing, even though his hair is a mess and you can barely see his eyes. “What now…?” 

“You enjoy this way too much…” You can see how aroused he is. It might not be a high-quality video, but the shadow around his crotch is too obvious to be ignored. He looks down and shrugs, his hand reaching for the front of his boxers.

“I’m fucking hard if this is what you mean.”

He becomes bold whenever he feels frustrated. In reality, things go way faster whenever Jaebeom is turned on. He spends no time chatting, his hands gripping and tearing. 

Surprisingly, he doesn’t hate the way you take your time, even though he wouldn’t mind you ordering him a bit faster. 

“Then touch yourself.” You bite your lip when you see his hand play with the waistband of his underwear. He groans before grabbing his cock but stills, eyes reaching up to look at the screen. 

“Now, you must give your cam boy some material…” He sighs, his hand not moving from where it’s resting. He is gripping himself a bit too hard and it’s almost enchanting, but you come back to your senses when you feel the heat between your legs. 

So you say nothing and simply pull your legging down. 

Jaebeom laughs “you were naked under that?” he starts moving his hand slowly, looking both pleased and in pain in front of your pussy displayed on his screen. 

You nod, a hand covering your skin as you fight against embarrassment. 

“Shut up and pump yourself faster.” You mumble, feeling the wetness against your fingers.

Jaebeom surrenders, his deep voice chanting a sweet “Yes ma’am”. His head falls back when he goes faster and you grab the occasion so thrust a finger inside you, moaning louder than intended.

His head snaps up when he sees you spread on the bed and a finger hidden inside you. He moans louder and keeps going, loving the way you lost yourself into pleasure.

You’re quiet now, the sound of your voice being nothing but dirty sounds. 

“I can’t believe I have to watch you finger yourself and I can’t do shit about it.” Jaebeom speaks through gritted teeth. You chuckle between moans, looking up at his pitiful face.

“You’re the one being all kinky and wanting to do cam sex.” 

He snorts. “It’s not a kink. I miss you, that’s all.”

“It is a kink, and I’m starting to think it’s the only reason you’re dating me.” You tease him some more, going as far as questioning his intentions. You know it annoys him whenever you joke about such things.

But he doesn’t care. “Whatever you say, I can see the stain on your sheets, babe. You seem to be rather kinky yourself.”

You blush furiously, head looking at your bed and the next thing you hear is your boyfriend laughing at you. 

Since he is going to act like this, might as well make him regret making fun of you.

Jaebeom stops laughing as soon as he hears you moan loudly. He finds you fully spread, head thrown back and fingering yourself a bit too sexily. He sees you reach for your bra to reveal a nipple before pinching it.

“Shit, babe…” He whispers, gripping himself tighter. 

He watches, entranced and falling in love all over again with your now sweaty body. He observes the way your fingers disappear into you and how loud you are. 

He loses it when you start moaning his name. You admit you weren’t ready to come undone so soon, but the fact that he is watching and touching himself right in front of you is too much.

With no surprise, his orgasm hits first. You raise your head to look at the scene as he is thrusting his dick into his fist. He literally explodes in the air, mouth opened and eyes fluttering shut.

You follow closely, singing into his room as the waves hit you repeatedly. He is out of breath when you come back from your high, head spinning and mouth dry. 

“Next time, we’re doing this right next to each other..” His tone is back to his usual tired one, making you laugh as you take your fingers out and hiss at the sensitivity.

“You’ll let me order you again for real? Who are you and what did you do to my Jaebeommie?” You look around your room dramatically.


Your boyfriend hums approvingly. “Feel free to borrow my body. It’s yours”

“You mean use your body, right?” You correct, reaching for your box of tissue to start cleaning yourself.

Jaebeom seems to be busy putting his boxers on again but doesn’t miss a single bit of the conversation. He turns around to grab the long forgotten towel and you get a glimpse of his back, sightly wet with both water and sweat. He doesn’t catch you staring, mind full of thoughts of you scratching his broad shoulders as he thrusts inside you. “We’ll see who uses who.” He threatens, not the least scary as he starts whipping the cum off his skin.

“Says the guy who was so needy he acted like a cam boy.” You recover from your daydreaming session quickly, giving him a judgemental look through your phone. 

“Oh so you’re going to make fun of me now…” His voice is still deep as he almost pouts and approaches the screen again. “I’m hanging up.”

You laugh loudly before taking the phone again and lay down on your bed. “I’m not!”

“I can hear you smirking at me!” He makes a face and smiles too, eyes stopping on your face. “You’re so pretty.”

“How can you switch from a tease to a horny guy and end up looking like this?”

Jaebeom looks shocked, mouth opening and eyebrow raised “Wow, you’re really going to be like this...you’ll definitely pay for that.”

“I can’t wait. Now go to sleep, cam boy.”

[camgirlsurvivalguide]

Is Any Advice Good Advice? Where and who to look for direction in online SW

First of all, long time no see. If you haven’t already heard, there are a few major changes that have happened in my own life personally which have affected this blog. Number one, I have retired from live stream webcamming. After six and a half years I made the decision to step back from streaming, for both personal and pragmatic reasons - and I have been really thriving ever since! I’ve moved from my original site (MFC) to OnlyFans, which has changed my daily routine for the better and improved my income while reducing the amount of hours I need to work. The tl’dr is that I’m loving it over there, and have PLENTY to say about how I’m finding success - over on the newly formed Camgirl Survival Guide OnlyFans page. 

onlyfans.com/camgirlsurvivalguide 

After years of offering insight and advice for free here on tumblr, I’m now opting to ask for support from those who are interested in what I have to say - so for $10 a month, you can access my new pieces that focus (for now) around OnlyFans, but will also continue to speak about live stream camming in the future occasionally as well, in the event that I feel I have something useful to say.

Why pay for advice when you could access stuff here for free, or simply learn things yourself? Excellent question: and it’s one I don’t necessarily have an easy answer for, to be honest. I personally went back and forth for a long while about putting any advice behind a paywall, because for one I truly believe in supporting other SWers and for the other ... I mean, who am I to tell you how to run your business? Time and time again on this blog I’ve insisted that my advice is formulated around my hustle, and that what works for me may not work for you - so putting a price tag on something that may not necessarily benefit an up and coming content creator or camgirl felt ... off. 

Then again, people sell stuff that might not help ALL people all the time. Gym routines, study guides, tutorials of any sort ... loads of other professionals sell advice. Self help is a booming industry, and writing self help requires zero qualifications. 

So how is this different when it comes to SW? To me, it boils down to the audience looking to consume it. Joining the industry is not always someone’s first choice - and if it IS a first choice, a lot of the time, newbies are not totally aware of the extent to which stigma and discrimination can truly harm them down the line. People are often in tough positions before choosing to join SW, whether they’re suffering from some sort of a disability, in danger of or experiencing poverty, or attempting to support themselves through school - and while SW can seem like a saving grace (which it is, for some), I worry that without proper disclaimers, entering the industry can do more harm than good. I wouldn’t want to lead someone into thinking listening to my *~*~10 Simple Tips to SW*~*~ would help them transform their lives instantly without any repercussion. 

That, and people are gullible and susceptible to influence. Lots of younger girls will look at a pretty, thin, white and financially successful camgirl and think “I wanna be her!” without really considering things. I mean, it’s just selling nudes, right? How hard can it be? How bad could things really get?

But I remember the headlines of SWers raped, murdered, beaten. I hear stories from friends about abuse, violence, death threats from strangers online; of having their nudes or p*rn sent to their families, their bosses, plastered all over websites that they’ll never be able to remove. I think of friends who are turned away from housing opportunities despite handsome income because the renters just “don’t think it’s a right fit” after finding out their involvement in the industry. I think of the camgirl moms I know who struggle to get visitation rights for their own children because of their line of work. I think of the woman who attempted suicide after her school ran her out of her nursing program after it was discovered she did porn.  I think of being run out of my own program after being outed. I think of the last year of my own life. 

I would love to believe that the majority of people offering advice are doing it out of a place of genuine desire to be helpful. I think there’s a big part of most of us that, upon finding success, wants to figure out how to raise others up with us. The Psychologists Fallacy is the belief that because I can do it, so too can anyone else - but this isn’t really the case, and when the drawbacks are as immense as they can be with SW, being naive as an advice giver can do more harm than good.

So who gets to give advice, then? The demand is there, so there will be supply. With how easy it is to make money off of referrals on OnlyFans (and with pressure being put on live streaming websites to implement similar features), it’s even easier for established creators to profit off of people who want to do what they do. I think the people who think twice about giving advice, or think long and hard before they publish advice let alone charge to access it, are probably the safest bet - but the people who are less experienced will probably do it first. If you’re looking for advice, I suggest seeking out credentials like time spent in the industry, variety of SW experiences, which skills that you think they could teach you in ways you couldn’t learn quickly or easily on your own, and/or whether or not they’re able to TEACH their experiences to others (because teaching and knowing are two completely different skillsets). Follower count or income matter less these days than meets the eye when we consider viral success stories - yet at the same time, I understand looking at the lure of luck and wanting to find a formula for your own instant rise to fame and fortune. Sadly, I’m here to tell you that I don’t think there is one, regardless of who might be selling their version of a How To.

I want to say to anyone seeking advice a simple, age old “do your research” -- but I also recognize that time is of the essence when many of us want to take the plunge. We need to make a paycheque right now and whatever comes our way first will likely be the only bit of direction or advice, if we get any at all, that we consume before diving in. I recognize that those who take their time, are able to discern which creators would likely give the best advice, pay for that advice and then have the time to study that advice and put it to use (paying for equipment, shooting and stockpiling content, so on and so forth) are likely considerably more privileged than the rest, which stands to further widen the gap between marginalized survival SWers at the bottom and those at the top. 

I guess, in reality, this message has tilted from one for advice consumers to one for advice producers. Think before you offer help. Remember that what helps you is not guaranteed to help others. Remember the immense amount of responsibility you have when you offer tangible, procedural steps to entering an industry that can forever irreversibly damage someone’s life. Remember that wanting to help is good, but that sometimes helping is worse than choosing not to.

As far as this blog goes, I imagine I’ll still update from time to time, but I will be focusing my efforts over on OnlyFans moving forward - until the CGS book is ready, that is. Stay tuned~

[hiddendreamer67]

Original Character List

I present to you, something Legendary! 😄 It’s so cute, like, oh my gosh, heh, hi! 

Guess what- I have Original Characters now! I’m listing them here to introduce you guys to the handful that exist already, because later I’m going to reblog a prompt list or two and I’m hoping to write some oneshots/drabbles with them to help my with character, plot, and world development. ☺️ 

Btw this world is totally gonna have gt elements but ironically everyone I’ve created so far is human-sized!  😅 And also I’m putting this list under a cut so that as I add people I can list them here as well. (And disclaimer, this is my initial ideas for these peeps, they still have the potential to evolve and change).

Human Characters

Prince Valentine, I think youngest son? - One of the princes in the TBD main human kingdom. The fae and mortals have been in an everlasting state of unrest and war for a long time now, and Valentine gets the idea to try out diplomacy. He hears of Garth/Cam’s friendship and decides to send them out since clearly they know what they’re doing! (They don’t.) Valentine is very energetic and a bit air-headed, he’s also ignorant in a lot of viewpoints because he was raised to believe fae are wild beasts and wants to control them. Later on he’ll get better and realize “Hey fae are people too...ish.” His family thinks his diplomacy mission is foolish but don’t care because he’s not sticking his own neck out.

Cornelius, prince’s main adviser- This wizard(?) is pretty much the only one in the entire castle who actually believes in this diplomacy mission and also is the only one keeping an eye on Valentine. He basically makes sure Garth and Cam are equipped with enough knowledge to not immediately die and helps filter missions as best he can.

Noemi, witch at the edge of the woods- She lives at a different edge than the Thornton family. I don’t know a lot about her yet except that she’s a mostly self-taught witch with a best fae friend (girlfriend?) named Witch Hazel. 

(I think the Thornton family all live in a house on the edge of town near a forest that was -recently?- inhabited by some of the flower fae)

Perth Thornton, father- Not much developed for him yet.

Marabelle Thornton, mother - Not much developed for her either! But both parents are at least alive.

Quill Thornton, eldest son - Perfect boy, start child, parent’s favorite. Sometimes siblings are jealous of him because of attention but they love him too because this guy is obnoxious in there’s not really a reason to hate him. The strong, brotherly type who volunteers around town to help others and is a good leader but listens more than he speaks. Fae relations unclear, I think flower fae generally like him too but idk how he feels about fae.

Bentley Thornton, second oldest son - He’s a good boy too, wants to be an academic but that’s not really in the family line of work. He’s more concerned w/ logistics than the rest of his family which can turn him into a frustrated/stressed wreck since he’s just trying to keep everything in check and good lord why am I the only rational sibling. Flower fae call him Sparrow because his heart always speeds up like a lil’ bird when they’re around since he’s naturally weary.

Garth Thornton, middle child - He’s the main character human, or he’s intended to be. He’s snarky. Spent a long while as the youngest kid and especially now that there’s a new baby he gets sorta left to his own devices, so naturally he ended up accidentally befriending a fae named Cam in the woods. He’s generally distrustful of fae and can feel like the only normal one who gets thrown or tugged into magical dangerous adventures. Flower fae call him Germ- that’s a fun story. ;) 

Posie Thornton, newborn baby sister -  She’s adorable and a baby. Flower fae call her Bud or Blossom because they love her and want her to be one of them so they basically lowkey made her an honorary flower. 

Fae Characters

So an important note: I haven’t fully developed all of the creatures and beings in this universe (feel free to ask if there’s any certain types or categories afoot & where they’d fall), but basically one category is the fae, who basically encompass all natural spirits and come in a variety of physical forms & sizes. There’s a lot of lore w/ fae in play but a big one is Names have power so you gotta use some sort of nickname.

The Winter Vale, King of Winter- Vale is a very powerful fae, controlling all of the winter court. He’s cold-hearted and a real awful dude. He has a few children he repeatedly neglects (@Thistle) and is known for stealing away flower fae to be his stolen brides and bring a spot of color to his chilly domain until inevitably they fade or he gets bored or they run away. Oof. 

Gaia, Queen of Spring- This is the mother of all flower fae; basically, Gaia slept around with pretty much every male fae and that’s why there are a million daughters. She did this because normally Spring can be weaker than Winter, but in large numbers she grew in power and children are more affiliated with whatever parent has more royal blood (so even if she weds a winter, the child will fall in the Spring Court). 

Flower Fae- lil’ bit o’ lore

The flower fae are a sub-branch of Fae; flower fae are all sisters, and they each call each other by a given flower name. They’re basically a lil’ cult of children; by nature, flower fae are curious and giggly and love to play games. Also flower fae are independent beings in that they can have their own outlooks on thing like, say, their opinion on mortals, but inherently they all share this sort of sisterly bond and are inclined to view other sisters fondly. (That comes into play especially w/ sisters spread across the globe, which should not be a thing b/c they thrive on togetherness but yeah some flower fae are kinda everywhere now? Also they aren’t immortal as in they’ve existed forever, they are born from a garden thing and they do have an age order and idk how many are in existence currently but they’re only limited in number by the amount of flower names I can discover. No way in hell have I characterized them all yet.)

Camellia (Cam), flower fae- This is my main girl, she’s the one who somehow manages to befriend Garth and sneak her way into his stony heart. Cam is the youngest of the flower fae when we meet her. She grows attached to Garth and basically becomes an overexcited puppy going on adventures. She’s occasionally viewed as a lil’ sister until she pulls some powerful magic out and everyone’s like “oh yeah nvm she can hold her own”. She’s easily distracted especially when it comes to being serious or mortal affairs. Also she’s got some natural weaknesses like cold and iron are not good for her so she turns a jittery mess in cities and a sleepy mess in the snow.

Uva Ursi, flower fae- She’s a lot more bristly than flower fae are typically known for (at least from Garth’s perspective), but she means well. Was separated from several of her sisters a long time ago but adapted well to the cold. Has a little bit of control over winter elements, due to her relations with The Winter Vale. She was his bride to replace Nightshade and certainly has a complicated past and somehow ended up in the desert for a bit.

Nightshade, flower fae- A previous flower fae gone rogue/evil, basically she was a bride to Vale and managed to escape but went insane. She’s now an assassin and I don’t know all the details but is very encouraging of getting flower fae to join her... cause? Basically it’s a rebel flower fae group who just want to mess life up for others and get vengeance.

Baby’s Breath, flower fae- The true infant of the sisterhood; she’s born after Camellia and is the epitome of ‘baby’. 

Thistle, flower fae- Daughter of Vale and Gaia (King of Winter and Queen of Spring). She is the only flower fae who actually falls into the Winter Court, and as such is accepted by neither. Has SEVERE daddy issues because her father will never accept or love her. But, on a more surface level note, she’s a mischievous little sprite who’s very sarcastic and snarky.

Rose, flower fae- She is the. First. Flower fae, and will never let you forget it. There is a whole clan of ‘roses’ (Primrose, Petite rose, Tea rose, etc.) but Rose is THE Rose. She’s very vain, and thinks she’s mom’s favorite; that might actually be true. Rose does love her sisters but she is not nearly as devoted to them all as is typical of flower fae.

Lily, flower fae- She’s another original flower fae who has a clan of her own  (Tiger Lily, Calla Lily, etc.) but is not nearly as iconic as Rose. She does tend to be a good motherly figure for the flower fae still in the home garden, especially since Gaia is not an attentive mother. At the very least she’s a responsible older sister.

Witch Hazel, flower fae- Hazel found the human witch Noemi and pretty much instantly fell in love (romantically or platonically tbd), so much so that she decided to leave the flower fae sisterhood behind to stay permanently with Noemi and only occasionally comes back to visit. She’s very sweet and a bit uneducated but still wants to do whatever she can to help her witch succeed.

Azalea, flower fae- Way down the road, this is Bentley’s fae girlfriend! In the meantime though, she’s an older sister of Cam’s who’s a bit of a brash, sassy personality but she means well. Is actually a bit nervous about the idea of Cam going into the world of mortals.

...I think that’s everything? Kinda info dumped there, I hope this was at least interesting for some of you. Thank you for reading this list! Feel free to send me any questions you have or let me know if something was unclear!

[perahn]

Common For the Heartsick

So I was clearing out some old folders this evening and came across the start of this, and decided to just throw an ending on it. Modern!AU.

--------------------------------

“Ursula or Maleficent?” Harper held up the two bottles of nail polish, one purple with black sparkles and the other black with green and purple glitter.

“Huh?”

That wasn’t like Katy, no matter how focused she was on the movie. The colour of her toenails was serious business. “Katy, what’s up?” he asked.

She wasn’t even watching the screen as the music swelled and the two leads gazed longingly at each other – and usually by that point in the movie she had both a smile and the sniffles. Instead she was staring out the window with an expression similar to the one the actors were wearing, only with a large portion of misery in it.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Harper said, and wrapped his arms around her. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just so sad,” Katy said softly.

“What is? I know you’re not talking about the movie. They haven’t even had the second-act break-up yet.”

Katy turned away from the window and buried her face in his chest. The muffled sounds might’ve been an answer, if he could’ve understood it. Not for the first time in their friendship, he wondered if hooking up with Ash behind the bleachers had really been worth skipping the day they’d covered ‘Common for Heartsick Half-Elves With a Mouthful of Jacket’. “You know it’s a bit easier to communicate when I can hear you, right?”

Katy popped up her head long enough to say, “Look at her!” before she folded herself back in with something that was at least halfway towards being a sob.

Harper looked. The window had a fairly good view across the street to the Haunted House. There wasn’t any ghost story attached to it as far as Harper had ever heard; Katy just called it that because nobody stayed there very long. Obviously that was due to ghosts and not to the fact that it was in desperate need of demolition. Harper had fifty bucks on the most recent victims staying less than a month; Bren thought they’d make two, but not much longer; Katy had refused to bet.

Katy had probably been watching the current residents, since they were in the front yard. Harper had never met them, but he knew people who knew people who had spoken to them. The small half-orc – Shaizy or something like it – was attempting to wrestle some of the taller weeds into submission, while the bald one – her name sounded like someone making a Ghostbusters reference while gargling – sat on the sagging doorstep frowning over a book. An enormous Great Dane gambolled around them both, wagging its black tail and occasionally entreating one or the other to throw a ball for it to ignore.

They looked content enough, even if one was waging an unwinnable war against well-entrenched and razor-sharp grasses; he must be missing something. “She needs a flamethrower instead of secateurs?” Harper guessed. “She got a grass cut?”

“Not her,” Katy said, and that was a first. Harper didn’t know much, but he was a fucking expert in pining from a distance, and besides Katy had been commenting on the half-orc’s arms basically every minute they were visible. “Cam.”

Harper’s impression of the bald woman had included words like ‘hot’, ‘tattoos’, and ‘always reading’; he wasn’t sure where ‘sad’ came from. Also, he was pretty sure her name wasn’t Cam. “Why is it sad, darling?”

“Because just look, Harper! She’s bald and skinny, she has cancer, and she’s here with someone who is probably her girlfriend in the last months she has to live-“

“Katy.”

“- and they must be poor after spending all their money on cancer treatment because they rented the Haunted House –“

“Katy.”

“- and she only ever wears that horrible burlap sack-“

“Katy!” and finally he got through. “Where did any of that come from?”

She sniffled, wiping her chin with his shirt and leaving mascara smears behind. “I’m not blind, Harper.”

“No,” he said, grabbing the box of tissues he’d had ready for the second-act break-up, “you are beautiful and smart and the delight of my life, but don’t you think that, maybe, you might be jumping to conclusions a little fast?”

She looked up at him with those ridiculously wide eyes, and fuck, her lower lip was wobbling. It was more than a man could be expected to endure.

“Come on,” Harper said, dragging her up from the sofa, “We are going over there and we are settling this.”

“Harperrr-“

“No arguments. I’ll carry you if I have to.”

She didn’t argue, but he did have to drag her by the hand across the road. The dog barked a welcome and rushed up to them, and the girl with the shears said ‘Hi,” and he said “Hi,” back because he wasn’t a barbarian, and the bald woman looked up from her book. Sure, she was on the skinny side, but she didn’t look sick and she still had her eyebrows and eyelashes, so he was probably right, and he was just going to sound stupid and a bit crazy. He was used to that.

“Hi,” Harper said. “Bad question to open with, I know, but the bald head – that’s a fashion statement, right?”

She stared back at him, wary and not quite hostile. “Cultural. Why?”

“See?” He tossed over his shoulder at Katy, who wasn’t listening to him anyway, just staring at her crush. Who had put down the secateurs and was coming up to her, the big dog gambolling madly around them both.

“That’s not an answer,” not-a-cancer-patient said.

“It was just – just an argument with Katy. I’m Harper, by the way.”

“Khemuret,” she said, a little begrudgingly. “Khem.”

“Pretty name. Katy and I live across the road, feel free to come borrow a cup of sugar if you need one. We probably won’t have any, but the company is always nice. Can I ask another really nosy question?”

Katy had dropped his hand in order to scratch the dog’s ears, and honestly Harper just wanted to cheer – in a non-creepy, just looking out for his girl kind of way - because Shaizy was very carefully not looking at Katy, and they were fumbling their way through an introduction.

“You can ask.”

“Well,” Harper said, and sat down next to Khem on the doorstep. She made a face like an offended cat and shifted a few inches away. A miscalculation there. “Sorry, didn’t mean to crowd you. It’s just- see that?” He pointed to where Katy and her half-orc had obviously found themselves into an awkward and tentative little world of their own.

“They are right there,” Khem said, with the slow emphasis of someone who had completely missed the point.

“I mean – look, just before Katy gets too invested, is she wasting her time? I don’t want to see her breaking her heart over someone who’s already attached if I can help it –“ and yeah, that gave him a bit of an inner stab, because part of being an expert in pining was wasting his time and breaking his heart and being completely unable to help it. But he was used to ignoring that inner stab, and it was all scar tissue in there anyway.

Khem was staring at him again, as warm and pleasant as a militant vegan watching someone order steak tartare. “Not as far as I know.”

Harper grinned, wide and stupid and hopeful – he knew that expression when his face did it, mostly at the worst possible time. “Thanks, Khem.”

She shrugged.

“I can see I’m intruding, I’ll leave you to your –“ he glanced at the thick book in her lap – “theoretical physics?”

“Thank you,” Khem said, and turned back to her reading.

He’d deliberately snuck away so he wouldn’t interrupt, but Katy caught him before he opened the front door anyway. In the dim hallway, she was practically glowing as she threw her arms around him and burst into that endearing perennial chatter.

“ – and Shay really likes gardening, I asked her to help me weed our back yard and she said yes and I told her about ordering from Bren’s because our oven is always broken and she said she could fix it, and she does martial arts which is why her arms are so amazing and where she got those scars and she said my eyes were really glittery and the dog is called Twitch and she said Cam was her friend so I think she might be single –“

“Khem seems to think she is,” Harper interjected.

Katy let out a high-pitched sound with no consonants in it and dashed upstairs, apparently to redo her makeup while attempting to sing something that clashed badly against the melancholy theme on the TV. One of the lovers had discovered that the other was actually married and expecting a child, and Harper stared into blue eyes that weren’t – weren’t quite right…

- and switched off the movie. He could wallow in old grief any day, and it’d come hunting him soon enough. Right now, Katy was happy, and soon enough she would need some advice from her brother-dad, and the new neighbours were… interesting.

He hoped, for Katy’s sake, that they’d stay longer than a few months. Even if it cost him fifty dollars.

[grootiez]

The Hunt For Florida Man

Rocket is jostled awake. “Ugh, WHAT?!?!” He says only to find the source of the shaking was his now-teenaged son. “Groot! What do you want?” The raccoon rolls over in bed to discover the time on his clock. “Oh my god! It’s almost 3 in the morning! Go to bed, you have school tomorrow!”

“I... I am Groot.” The tree squeaked as he shuffled his feet.

“Really? Another nightmare? Thought you outgrew them a while ago.” Rocket sighs. Knowing that he didn’t want to make Groot feel bad, he flipped up his blankets. “Fine, you can sleep with me tonight, but you better wake up on time tomorrow.” He states as Groot climbed into bed and got comfortable. “By the way, what was the nightmare about?”

“I am Groot...” Groot pipes up, slightly embarrassed. “Seriously?!?!” Rocket facepalms himself. “Florida Man?!?!” He couldn’t believe his ears. “Groot, Florida Man ain’t real!”

“I am Groot.” Groot replies.

“I don’t get paid enough to deal with this...” Rocket grumbles. “Groot, you gotta stop believing every cockamamie thing that comes out of Kraglin and Drax’s mouths. They know that you’re young and gullible, you just gotta show them that you’re smarter than they think. Be the better, smarter person! Now go the flark to sleep.” Rocket advises his son sleepily as he yawns and moments later, begins to snore.

Groot was left alone with his thoughts as he too shortly drifted off to sleep. Thankfully this dream didn’t have Florida Man in it and the teenager slept good.                                                       —————— It was morning. Rocket and Groot got up on time and ready for the day. As they went downstairs, the other Guardians were in the kitchen eating breakfast and watching the morning news which covered the events throughout the galaxy. As Groot sat down with his favorite cereal in a bowl with milk, (a reward since Rocket didn’t have to fight with the ‘Treenager’ for a change, something that was becoming rarer and rarer with each passing day), he too was listening to the daily report.

“In Terran news, the National Football League is set to start the season with modified rules and attendance policies because of the pandemic going around on the planet. The Tampa Bay Buccaneers are more than eager for the season to start with Super Bowl hopes thanks to their acquisition of their new Tight End Rob Gronkowski, and their star quarterback Tom Brady, both former New England Patriots.” The newslady read from the teleprompter. The Guardians booed in unison, their disdain for the Patriots, which they oh-so-lovingly call the ‘Cheatriots’, was one of the multiple things that united them as a family.

“What sellouts.” Peter complains. “Just because Tom Brady and Bill Belichick didn’t get along the last season and lost to the Tennessee Titans in the wildcard round.” Everyone else nods in agreement.

“In other Terran news, a Florida Man was arrested overnight after he was found walking his pet alligator on the sidewalk. The same man then threw a steaming hot bowl of ramen noodles in the officer’s face.” The same newscaster states as Peter turned off the projector. “See? Ain’tcha glad that we don’t live on Terra?” Rocket decreeds as he grabbed his breakfast. “They’re overrun with IDIOTS on that sad excuse of a planet. No offense, Quill.” He adds as the humie gave him a dirty look.

Just then a horn from outside beeped and a large engine could be heard getting into gear. Groot had just missed the bus to school. “Ugh!” Rocket groans as he got up from his seat at the kitchen table. “Groot! You were supposed to be out there five minutes ago so that you didn’t miss the bus. Now I gotta drive you to school so that you’re not late, again!”

There was nothing more in this world that embarrassed Groot more than having Rocket drive him to school. Quickly, the treenager thought of a plan.

“I am Groot!” The teen proposes. “No! You are NOT driving yourself to school.” Rocket replies as Groot stared at his father. “End of story.”

“Come on, Rocket.” Peter begins to negotiate as he draped an arm over Groot’s shoulder. “The kid’s been doing good both in school and at home recently. I think he deserves to have a reward.” “Ugh, fine!” Rocket concedes as Peter handed the keys to the Milano over to the excited teenager. “But if we find one scratch on the ship, your ass is grass!” He added as Groot grabbed his coat and rushed out the door.                                                  —————— As Groot climbed into the cockpit of the Milano and placed the keys into the ignition, he decides that he would skip school today. After he called the school’s office and faked an illness, (which was easy since the office had a phone system where all Groot had to do was press numbers to indicate why he would not be showing up today, further reducing the cause of suspicion.) Once he was done, he decided on what to do with the free time that he had.

As he navigated the log of various planets, Groot came across Terra. Then he got an idea: he WILL PROVE Florida Man’s existence to the entire galaxy! He smiles to himself as hey punched in the coordinates and let the autopilot feature fly to Earth as he dozed off and took a well deserved nap.

A couple of hours later, Groot was awakened by the ship’s alarm system as the monotone voice boomed “DESTINATION AHEAD! WELCOME TO TAMPA BAY, FLORIDA!”

The teen looked at where he was headed and while wiping his still-groggy eyes. “I am Groot?” He says as the ship approaches a pre-determined landing site set by a small airport. Since the area Groot landed in was full of affluent residents, the Milano didn’t stand out amongst the multi-million dollar jets. It also helped that it was early morning so that the paint job wasn’t noticeable.

“I am Groot?” The teen thought to himself. How was he going to prove Florida Man is real? He pondered this as he walked the tree-lined sidewalks.                                                     —————— As Groot continues his walk, he remembers something that Peter said a while back while telling the Guardians all about Florida, where he liked to go on vacation. He also told them about some popular myths and legends, most notably the ones that involved the thing known as Bigfoot, or Sasquatch.

After Peter finished telling the tale, Rocket still didn’t believe it. That is, until Drax sneakily approached up from behind and scared the humie.

Rocket cackled. “HAHAHAHAHA! I guess that Florida’s not the only place people live in fear of Sasquatches!” Peter then gives the rodent a dirty look before retreating to his room for the night.

That’s it! Groot knew that if Peter was scared of this “Sasquatch” or whatever it was, Florida Man must be scared of them too. It’s probably a common Terran fear.

Groot took out his cell phone to research what a “Sasquatch” looked like. Basically, it was no more than a tall humanoid figure that was covered in mud and grass. Since he was wearing his school uniform and he didn’t want Rocket to yell at him for getting it dirty again, Groot changed out of it and into some regular clothes that he had in his backpack. He returned to the Milano to drop off his uniform that he hastily stuffed in his bag and locked the ship up.

The tree then continued his walk. He was about to give up until he heard something. He was coming up to the biggest house yet that he’s seen yet. In the backyard, there he was: Florida Man! Well, not exactly THE Florida Man. It was Tom Brady. who was tossing around a clearly DEFLATED FOOTBALL around with his best friend, Rob Gronkowski.

Groot got into action and hid his phone in one of the holes in the tree. He then discovered a small marsh nearby and got himself covered in mud and grass.

Meanwhile, Brady and Gronk were tossing around the deflated football and working on various plays that their new head coach, Bruce Arians, wanted them to work on and perfect. ”Gronk! What the hell, man? You were supposed to catch that!” Tom shouted as the football hit Gronk in the head. “I’m NOT LOSING to the Saints next week!”

“Gronk heard something.” Rob replied. “Gronk think we’re being watched. Gronk think Bill set up cams around here so he can see the plays.”

Tom shook his head. “Do you really think that Belichick’s spying on us? If anything, I’m the one that came up with the whole SPYGATE thing!”

This was Groot’s chance! He ran as fast as he could, although being caked in mud and grass proved to slow him down, that didn’t deter him from his goal: proving Florida Man’s existence.

Groot screamed at the top of his lungs as he leapt into the air as Gronk turned around and screamed like a little girl!

“GRONK DOWN! GRONK DOWN!” The scared football player shouted as Groot’s weight was too much for him and he and the teen fell into the pool.

Luckily, Groot fell on top of Gronk, so his disguise wasn’t ruined and he was able to carry on with the prank as he used Gronk as a stepping stone to avoid the water.

Now it was just him and Tom “Florida Man” Brady.

Brady assumed a fighting stance. “I’m not afraid of you.” He said bravely as he swayed back and forth on his legs. “Unlike Gronk, I’m going to subdue you and take control of the situation until the cops come and then you’re gonna be their problem.” He said as a tiny whistle could barely be heard and a moment later, Brady loss consciousness and joined Gronk in the pool. “Get’cho ass back to the ship right now!” Rocket’s voice boomed from Groot’s headphones, which were plugged into his iPod. “You are in DEEP TROUBLE when you get home, mister!” He adds as Groot grabbed his cell phone from the tree and Rocket remotely piloted the Milano to Groot’s location.  Groot climbed into the ship. He knew that he would be grounded for A LONG TIME. But before Rocket would pilot him back to the house, Groot made sure to upload the footage that he got to YouTube.  Florida Man IS REAL!———————————————————————————————————————

Read on Ao3.

———————————————————————————————————————

@madness-on-the-milano @blaketoziers @butterflyinthewell @canuckscot @i-sudoku @janetgenea @lothirielswanmarvel @madcatz6277 @netbug009 @pineapple-crow @rocket-roquill-raccoon @rocket-ringtail-raccoon @rr4901 @skarabrae-stone @sesshouki @thatcrappypuppy @vic394 @woozletania @whoop-whoop-grocket

[aewriting]

Sometimes Wish I'd Never Been Born at All

I posted this on AO3 for Michael Guerin week back in September of 2019 (here's the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20709674 ).  I thought I'd repost it here, though, because it is basically a reworking of the Christmas classic "It's a Wonderful Life."  But with aliens!

Warnings for violence, illness, racism, and homophobia. Something Very Bad happens to Alex in this story, though it is not graphically detailed.

***

Max has been dead for months.

Maria broke things off a week ago.

Isobel looks at him like he’s broken.

Alex… shit.

Michael takes another swig of acetone. Alex has moved the fuck on.

More acetone.  Then some more.  It’s not enough.

He looks at the alien glass in his hand, runs his new, perfect hand along it.  It’s the nicest part of him now, miles better than his heart.

“I wish I’d never come here.  I wish I’d never set foot on this fucking planet…”

***

He wakes up to the sound of knocking at the door of the Airstream.  His head aches.  “Coming!” he calls out.  He must have passed out fully dressed.  He goes to move the paper he uses to cover the windows of the Airstream, only to discover that the windows are bare.  Huh. Moving stiffly, he makes his way to the door and flings it open.

“What is it, Sanders?”

Old Man Sanders just squints up at him.  “How the hell do you know my name, boy?”

Michael scrapes a hand over his face.  “Christ, Sanders, it’s me, Michael.”

“I’ve never seen you before in my life!”

Michael laughs a bit at that.  “I know your eyes are going, but come on…”

Sanders glares at him. “You’re trespassing on private property.”  He sniffs the air.  “And you’re a drunkard, to boot.  Sheriff should be here any minute.”

“You called Valenti on me?” Michael says, incensed.

Sanders gives him a confused look.  “Valenti?  Sheriff Valenti’s been dead for over a decade.  You okay in the head, boy?”

It’s only then that Michael looks around the Airstream.  It’s bare and run-down, like no one lives here, like he just…

Appeared.

A prickling sensation goes up his neck.  “What day is it?”

“September 20, 2019,” Sanders says. 

Huh, okay, that’s right.  He starts to hear sirens. Sanders nods his head, pleased.  “That’ll be Thomas now.”

A tall man exits the first cruiser, while a familiar blonde gets out of the second car.

“Cam!” Michael exclaims.  “I thought you left town, but I’m glad to see you.  Could you tell Sanders here that it’s me?”

She takes off her aviators, stares at him blankly.  “And who are you?”

Shit.  Shit shit shit…

Michael breathes.  Okay, so things definitely aren’t right.  Sanders doesn’t recognize him.  Cam doesn’t know who he is.  Some old white dude – Thomas? – is the Sheriff now.  Valenti has apparently been dead for ten years.  It’s the right date. 

What could have caused something like this?  His mind immediately goes to alien stuff – mind control, body snatching, influencing, weird tech stuff…

Weird tech stuff.

The glass, last night.  His desperate wish.

“I’ve never been born,” Michael murmurs in disbelief.  “I’ve never been born…”

Cam is looking at him, concerned.  “Let’s get you down to the station.”

***

He’s in his familiar cell.  He’s had time to think, and he’s wondering if maybe this version of things isn’t a good thing, a better thing for everyone involved. 

 “Is Max here?” he tries.  Max is dead in his reality, languishing in a pod.  Maybe without Michael around, things hadn’t gotten so fucked up.

Jenna eyes him.  “Max?  Don’t know a Max.”

Michael wants to smirk at her, say some smartass comment. He refrains, just nods his head.  “Never mind.”

Sheriff Thomas strolls in, makes a big show of unlocking the cell. “Well, Mr. Guerin, it appears you’re free to go.  Sanders has decided not to press any charges.  Says he just wants ‘that poor boy to get some help.’ End quote.”  Thomas’s eyes narrow.  “Can’t say I would have been so kind.”

Yeah, so Thomas is an ass.

“Thanks,” Michael says curtly.

Thomas leans in close to him.  “Hey Guerin?”

“Yeah?”

“I suggest you leave my town. We don’t take kindly to drifters here.”

***

Michael goes straight to the Pony.  It’s not a long walk. He doesn’t have a watch, or a phone, but he imagines it’s open already.  From what he’s seen so far, he knows that something has happened, but he has yet to determine if that something is bad.

Because when he thinks about it, wouldn’t Max and Iz have been better off without having to worry about his sorry ass all their lives? Maria wouldn’t be pissed and hurt. His mom, oh god, she could be alive, maybe, and Alex? Fuck, maybe Alex never joined the Air Force, never went to war, never lost his leg…

He feels half sick and half hopeful when he sits down at the bar and sees Maria’s stunning face.

Christ, she’s beautiful.  He’s always thought so.  He wishes he could have held it together with her.  There’s a temptation as he looks at her here to just pretend – to flirt, see her respond, do their familiar dance.  Just the way her eyes are appraising him now, looking him up and down, he knows he could do it.  It would be easy.

“Hey,” he says, giving her a slow smile.

She tilts her head to the side with a little smile.  “Hey yourself.  What can I get you?”

“I’ll take a whiskey.”  She nods.  “And if you don’t mind, a phone call or two?  I seem to have lost my phone.”  Her smile falters just a little.  “Both local numbers,” he adds quickly.  You can watch me dial if you want.”

The smile’s back.  “Sure,” she says, and directs him to a landline mounted near the bar.  He dials Max, then Isobel.  Strangers answer.

Is it possible that, when he made the wish, Max and Iz never crashed here either? 

He sits down at the bar thoughtfully.  Would… would that be bad?  Without Isobel, Noah would have never been freed, Rosa would be alive.  Well, alive the right way…

“Penny for your thoughts?” Maria says lightly, as she cuts up lemons. The sharp scent brings Michael back to the present.

“Listen, do you know a guy named Max?  A woman named Isobel?”

Maria lays down the knife. “Hmm…”

“Friends of mine from around here.  My age?”

“Can’t say I do, sorry.”

Michael takes another slow sip of whiskey.  “Okay… okay.  Um, how about a woman named Liz?”

“Liz…” Maria says the name slowly. 

“Yeah, Liz,” Michael says.  “Liz Ortecho?”

“Oh my god,” Maria mutters, half to herself.  She gives a little shake of her head. 

“What?” Michael asks, alarmed.

“What did you say your name was again?”

“I didn’t.”  Michael sticks out a hand. “It’s Michael, Michael Guerin.” Maria looks at the offered hand for a long moment before reaching out and shaking it.

“Okay, Michael…” She gives him an odd look.  “Liz hasn’t lived here since we were, like, 14.  I… I have no idea where she is now.”

“What… what happened?”

Maria’s once-open face is now wary.  She glances around quickly.

“Maria, please,” he says.

She looks startled, backs up.  “I never told you my name.”

Michael drops his head.  Shit. It’s still early, and there are only two other people at the bar. “Look,” he says, voice low.  “I’m sorry to lay this on you, DeLuca, but something weird has happened to me, and I need your help to figure it out.”

Her expression gets even more closed off, and she pulls back.  “If you’re about to say something gross, or, like, sexual, then you can just leave right now.”

Michael huffs a little breath, “No, no, it’s nothing like that.” He takes a deep breath and decides to just be direct.  Be direct, ha… it’s what he should have done with her in his reality.

 “You see, I woke up this morning, and I wasn’t where I should be.”  She’s staring at him, confused.  “Like, it wasn’t my reality.  I… I made a wish last night. In my reality.  That I’d never been born.”  She bites her lip.  “I’m, I’m not suicidal or anything, but… but I’ve just been through a lot of shit, and in my reality we were friends… um, more than friends, actually…” She’s backing away from him. “But not anymore, because I fucked things up, like, well before we even started dating, and…” He sees her reaching under the bar toward where she keeps the pepper spray.  “Shit, Maria, please don’t get me with the spray.  I know I sound insane, but I think my wish came true, and that now I’m in a reality where I was never, um, here.  And I just need some answers so I can see if things are actually better here.”  Her hands are still under the bar.  “And if they are, well, you’ll never see me again.  I won’t, like, linger here and just mess up everyone’s lives again, okay?” He sounds absolutely batshit, and he knows it.  “I… I really did know you well, in my reality.  I can prove it, if you want.”

“What? How?”

Michael looks at her.  “You have three little birth marks, on your left…” he gestures toward her left breast.  She gapes at him. “Yeah.  Your necklace is from your mom.  It’s been in your family for years.” Maria’s hands clutch at her necklace, and at least she’s not gripping the pepper spray any more. “Should I keep going?”

Maria’s brow is furrowed.  “No, no,” she says quickly.  Her face is scrunched up, and she’s staring at him.  “Suppose I went out on an enormous limb and decided to believe you.”  She crosses her arms.  “What would you want to know?”

“I guess first, I’d want to know, um, are you happy here?”

She’s staring at him. “What?  Am I happy?”

“Yeah, you know…” His shoulders slump a little. “I… I think I just wished myself away, and I want to know that it was worth it.  That things really are better without me. So far, I just don’t have enough evidence either way.”  There’s still confusion on her face, but a hint of pity, too.  Michael hates it. “Where I’m from, you owned the Pony. Your mom, she was sick, though. I know things were tough for you.”

Maria’s mouth twists a bit.  “It… it sounds like things are pretty similar here, honestly.”

Michael nods a bit, looks at her sadly.  “I’m sorry about Mimi.”

Maria ducks her head.  Sniffs.  “Ask me something else. Please,” she says quietly.

Michael clears his throat. “Okay. Um, back to Liz, then.  What happened to her?”

Maria pulls up a stool on her side of the bar, sits down, and looks at Michael.  “I don’t know why I’m talking to you about this shit.  I mean, you sound insane, but, just the fact that you know her name?”  She shakes her head.  “It was right after Thomas became the Sheriff.” Her eyes narrow.  “He’s a racist asshole. It was right after Jim Valenti died – he was the Sheriff before Thomas.  His death was real sudden – “

“Cancer?” Michael interrupts, knowing what he’s going to hear and fearing it all the same.

“Yes,” Maria says quietly. 

“Super fast acting?”

“Yes, yes,” Maria says.  “Your, um, reality too?”

Michael nods. “Happened later, though, just a few years ago.” His mind is going.  The alien got him here, too.  So there was definitely still a crash, definitely still aliens, right?  But he wasn’t among them.  Were Max and Iz?  And Jesse still killed Jim, but even earlier, why?

“Huh.”  Maria gives him a considering look, then continues. “Anyway, there was a special election.  Jim’s wife ran, but Thomas opposed her on this ridiculous anti-immigrant platform, and as soon as he won he just started cracking down. Liz’s dad – “

“Arturo, yeah. Sweetest man.”

“Yeah.”  Maria shakes her head.  “Thomas decided to make an example of him, turned him into ICE and got him deported.”

“Oh my god.”

“Liz and Rosa, they were still in school, obviously.  My mom and I, we begged them to stay with us, but they wouldn’t leave Arturo alone. They went back to Mexico with him, and that was the last I heard from Liz.”  Maria looks down at the bar.  “I still google her sometimes, you know?  Nothing ever comes up, nothing that’s definitely her, you know? She was so smart, so kind. It’s still hard, not knowing what happened to her, you know?”

“I’m sorry for bringing it back up,” Michael says.  It feels odd to him that there could be such a large deviation in this reality.  Like, what part could he have possibly played?

On the other hand, if Rosa had moved to Mexico at 15, then she hadn’t been murdered by an alien.

“In your reality,” Maria says tentatively, “what happened to Liz?”

Michael considers the question.  “Well… Arturo was never deported. He was still running the Crashdown. Liz, she travelled around right after we graduated, then became a biomedical engineer.  She was up in Colorado for a while, then came back to Roswell.”  He leaves out everything about Rosa.  “Um, recently, things have been… tougher.  Her boyfriend recently passed away.”  It’s still hard for him to say that Max is dead.  “You and her are still best friends, though.”

Maria smiles a little.  “Liz was always so smart.” Michael nods his agreement. “Back in school, you know, it was always me, her, and Alex, the three amigos.  God, we did everything together.”

Michael wills himself to sound casual.  “How, um, how is Alex?”

Maria stills. “Um, Michael?” she asks cautiously. 

Michael swallows thickly. “Yeah?”

“Your Alex…” Her eyes search his face, looking for something. “Was…” Michael doesn’t like her hesitation.  “Um, was he attacked?”

Michael’s eyes close of their own accord.  “Fuck.” When he made that goddamned wish, the point was for things to be better. “Yeah… damn.  He joined up here, too?”

“Joined up?”

“Yeah, the Air Force?”  She’s looking at him, disbelieving. “He was attacked? Iraq? Lost a leg?”

“No, oh god,” Maria’s shaking her head. “No. Oh god,” she repeats.  “Michael, no, the military?”  Her head’s still shaking.  “No, Alex would have never…  No.” Her hand is at her mouth now.  “His leg?” She looks pained.  “Why would your Alex have ever joined the military?  No… maybe he was different, in your reality.  Here, he… he loved music, and riding his skateboard…”

Michael is cold all over.  “Loved?” Past tense.  She’s using past tense.

Maria’s biting her lip, hard.  “Senior year, right before graduation, there was a break-in at Alex’s place. His family’s toolshed, actually.”

Oh god.

“Whoever did it stole a bunch of stuff and they… they…” Her eyes are welling up, now.  “I’m sorry. It was so, so bad, Michael.” She closes her eyes, wipes at her nose.  “It’s just…  They never caught who did it, but… but Alex was there, and they just, just…”

Michael’s voice is cold.  “What, Maria?  What did they do to him?”

“They beat him.  With a hammer.”

***

Maria closes the bar, after that.  Sends the other two people home, locks up, turns the sign, and pours big shots for she and Michael.

Maria’s nearly done with hers. “He’s in the same care home as my mom,” she says, not even looking at Michael. “He’ll… he’ll never be able to be on his own, with the traumatic brain injury, you know?”

Michael’s all cried out, and yet…

Maria just loops her arm around him as he shakes against her.  “I see him there, when I visit Mom.  I go see him, too.  He… he’s peaceful, I guess.  Like, I don’t think he’s in pain, but…”  She’s quiet.  “It’s hard, it’s just really fucking hard.”

“It was his dad,” Michael says, finally.  “You know it was his fucking dad, right?”

Maria’s mouth is set in a tight little line.  “Jesse claimed he saw a guy leaving the scene.  Latino.  Sheriff Thomas latched onto that, of course, made life that much more hellish for everyone.”  She sniffs.  “Jesse was the one that helped get him elected over Mrs. Valenti. There was no way Thomas was going to investigate him for the attack on Alex.”

“Was anyone else hurt?”

“No.”

“That you know of,” Michael says, bitterly.  Maria looks at him quizzically.  “I love Alex,” Michael says.  It feels simpler to say it here, to this Maria.  Her eyes still go wide with surprise. “I… I was with him, in his shed, when his dad found us together. Senior year, just like here.  His dad, he came after us with a hammer.  Broke my hand.”  Michael sees her looking, shakes his head.  “My hand, it… it’s better now, and that’s a long story.  But within weeks of that, Alex enlisted.” Michael looks away.  “I don’t know what happened here.  Maybe he was with somebody different, maybe not.  Maybe he was just, like, by himself, looking at porn or listening to music, or like, doing a thousand other things his dad didn’t like.”  Michael closes his eyes. “Or maybe that day his dad would have been out for blood, no matter what he walked in on. It’s not like he would’ve even needed a reason. He’s a fucking monster.”

“Poor Alex,” Maria whispers.

“Yeah,” Michael murmurs.

***

“So… we dated?  And you love Alex?”

“I’m bi,” Michael shrugs.

“Okay… but, um, that’s not what I was getting at. Are you with him, where you’re from?”

Michael shakes his head. 

“Why not?”

Michael gives a small, harsh laugh.  “Oh, I’ve hurt him DeLuca, hurt him bad.  You know how you were best friends with your Alex? Ditto for my reality, too.”

“Oh… oh.”

“Yeah.”

***

They’re well on their way to drunk when Maria stills, narrows her eyes at Michael.  “Those first two people you came in here asking about, what were their names again?” 

“Max and Isobel.”

“Last names?”

Michael stretches his neck.  “Same one for both of them.  Evans.  They’re twins.  Our age.”

Maria looks thoughtful. “Twins… okay… yeah. She was blonde, he had dark hair?”

Oh no, there was the past tense again.  “That… that’s right.”

“They went to middle school with me.  Before, when you asked, I was trying to think of, like, customers or something.  But no, I remember them now.  They moved away in the middle of 8th grade, I think.” She’s frowning a bit.  “Yes, it was definitely 8th grade, same year Liz left, but they left earlier in the year.  We didn’t have a big class to begin with, so it was weird that three people left so close together.”

Michael relaxes a little, but not completely. “Do you know where they went?”

“No…”  Maria says.  “It was all really sudden. One day they were there, and the next day they just… weren’t.” She cocks her head to the side.  “I mean, they just brought in cupcakes for their birthday, and then the next week they were gone.  I wasn’t close with them, but I remember even the teachers seemed surprised.”

Oh shit.

Oh fuck.

“Their, their birthday?” Michael asks shakily. “8th grade?  And then they just fucking disappeared?”

The desert campout.  The drifter.  Without Michael there to help fight him off, to help dig the grave, something must have happened, they must have been hurt… or discovered, somehow.

And disappeared. 

That was 15 years ago.

His mind begins racing.  15 years!  Fuck, if Project Shepherd got them, that could mean 15 years of experimentation, torture, of god knows what. Are they in Caulfield?  Another site?  Dead?

Oh, fuck, and now it makes sense, why Jim Valenti was killed earlier, in this reality.  Max and Iz were just kids – he must have pushed back against Jesse, pissed him off, and Jesse took him out.

Michael’s hyperventilating now, and his heart is beating so fast in his chest that it’s all he can feel, all he can hear. 

“Michael?  Michael!” Maria is screaming.

“I’m sorry,” Michael sobs, to the world, to the universe. “I shouldn’t have made the wish.  It’s so much worse now.  I… I’ve been so focused on what I didn’t have that I didn’t see what’s still there, and I’m sorry,” he cries.  “I’m so sorry!” His body’s shaking.  “Please, goddammit, please! I need to go back!  I need – “

The bar phone starts ringing.  Maria’s cell starts ringing. 

She jumps, reaches for the cell first.  “Yes?” she says, voice trembling.  “Oh… okay.” She freezes.  “Holy fuck.”  She puts her hand over the phone.  “Guerin, Guerin… it’s the care home, it’s my mother. She says she needs to talk to me, has a message for you.”

The hair on Michael’s forearms stand on end.  He watches as Maria puts the phone on speaker. 

“Strange, isn’t it?  Each man’s life touches so many other lives.  When he isn’t around he leaves an awful hole, doesn’t he?” Mimi’s voice sounds oddly calm.

“Mom?”  Maria says.  “Mom? Why did you ask for Guerin?”

“Strange, isn’t it?” Mimi begins.  “Each man’s life touches so many other lives.” It’s the same damn thing all over again.  “When he isn’t around he leaves an awful hole, doesn’t he?”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Michael hisses.

“I don’t know,” Maria hisses back.

“Strange, isn’t it…”

“Fuck, Guerin,” Maria finally says.  “She’s doing the movie thing again.  She’s quoting ‘It’s a Wonderful Life.’”

“How do you know?”

“We used to watch it every Christmas. And I just googled it.”

“Right, right…

“Have you ever seen it before?” Maria asks frantically.

“No.”

“It’s… it’s, god, it’s like the same thing you told me.  The main guy, he gets shown what his life would be like if he’d never been born.”

“You see, George, you’ve really had a wonderful life.”

“Fuck… um, okay.  Well, does he get back?  I mean, he must, it would be a bad fucking movie if he didn’t, right?”

Maria runs her hands through her hair. “Yeah, yeah.  He… he realizes that what he had all along was good.  That his life, it matters.”

“Don’t you see what a mistake it would be to just throw it away?  Don’t you see?  Don’t you see? Don’t you see?”

“I’ll be better,” Michael pleads.  “I’ll be so much better. I… I’ll stop with the acetone.  I’ll… I’ll work on me, I really will.  I see now that, that just being there for everyone, it matters.  I want to be better. Not just for Alex, or Max, or Iz, or Maria, but for me. I won’t… I won’t throw it away.  Just please let me go back.”

“Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings.”

Michael looks around wildly.

“Every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings. Bell rings.  Bells rings.  Bell rings.”

Michael grabs Maria’s hand, squeezes it hard.

“Thank you,” he says.

He focuses on the old red fire alarm bell in the corner of the bar, uses his powers, and lets it ring.

***

There’s a ringing.

Michael shoots straight up in bed.

His Airstream bed.

Oh thank god.

He scrambles for the phone.  “Hello?  Hello?”

“Michael?” comes Isobel’s voice.  “I just… I just felt you.  Are you okay?”

Michael looks around, exhales.  “I am now, Izzy.  I am now.”

[twatd]

Getting TWATD at the Wake, i: WicDiv #45 Reactions

Every month, two writers have returned to this blog. They did an essay each. For five years. And now it’s all over.

The Wicked + The Divine #45 is out, showing us what the gods did after the cycle ended. We’re following their lead and breaking our own rules. We won’t be writing the normal essays about the issue. Less a remembrance of WicDiv’s death, and more a celebration of its life. 

Let’s start with our initial reactions. Once we’d both read the issue, we sat down and discussed our feelings on where everyone ended up, and how the story finished. Here are the highlights of that conversation.

Spoilers for... well, for the entirety of WicDiv, I guess, below the cut.

Tim: So here we are. After five years and 45 issues, we reach the end of The Wicked + The Divine. Overall, did it feel like a satisfying ending to you?

Alex: After #44, which I enjoyed but didn't really feel like an ending to me... this issue was pretty much exactly what I wanted from the end of this story. I liked where every character ended up, and I got a bit weepy at the sheer optimism of them still being alive and making a positive difference in the world.

What about you?

Tim: I was more or less the flip of that. For me, the emotional climax was last issue, and this is more of a coda that works beautifully in some ways and stumbles a little in others. That might just be my expectations shaping my reading though - we've both sunk a lot of time into thinking about this series, so we're always going to come in with baggage.

Alex: Oh, absolutely. But I suspect our own sets of baggage aren't necessarily the same. WicDiv is a broad church, and I think we've always got slightly different things from it. And I wonder if that informs our different reactions?

Tim: I would be interesting to dig into, but I worry this whole thing could turn into a mutual therapy session.

Alex: Hah. I mean, that's what this whole comic is for, right?

Tim: This issue keeps the focus relatively tightly on Laura. Do you think WicDiv overall was always her story?

Alex: I actually disagree with that statement a little. The big twist of this issue, for me, is how much it was Cassandra's story.

As I slowly realised who the funeral was for (a process extended out a little thanks to the slightly blurry review PDF obscuring the name on the programme), I was actually kind of furious. Cassandra's always been one of my favourite characters, and she's been a little absent from the last couple of issues.

But, at the halfway point of the issue, I think that starts to show itself as intentional. In the end, Cass gets to give her own eulogy, and she's probably got the most lines of anyone in the issue. Even when she's not around, people are talking about her. It's basically “Where’s Poochie?” meets a Cassandra-themed Bechdel Test. And I love it.

Tim: Yeah, it's essentially a Cass sandwich between two slices of Laura bread. It effectively makes their relationship the central figure of the final issue, which is fascinating given that this issue also introduces a whole new wrinkle to the dynamic that we've seen them develop over 44 issues.

I'm sure that there are plenty of people out there who shipped them, but I've got to say, Laura and Cass ending up married sort of blindsided me. I loved their friendship throughout the series, and the way they slowly opened up to each other, but I can't say I picked up on any romantic vibes between the two. Am I being a clueless straight dude here?

Alex: I think that, for all WicDiv's love of foreshadowing, their relationship isn't something that has been signposted much during the series. There is Laura's line in #43 about jealousy and envy, but I think this is more about the vast period between these two issues. A relationship that was one thing, organically becoming another. Rather than – to pick another comic which was hugely formative on us both and has a weirdly similar ending – the Yorick/355 thing of 'oh, this is what that always was'.

Tim: Yeah, I suppose in a way it speaks volumes about just how much was jammed into the two years that we followed those characters through, and how much more you can fit in a time span 20 times longer. But I do worry that it slightly undermines the Laura/Eleanor moments in #44.

Alex: That might be it, actually – Laura and Eleanor were the bits of #44 I found least interesting, because it's a dynamic I'm just not that invested in. I do agree that it feels narratively messy to bring that relationship up only to immediately push it aside, but I feel like that's part of the point – and it's probably easier for me to accept, because I was never aboard that particular ship.

Tim: I can definitely accept that a the pairing of Laura & Eleanor feels too chaotic to last, while a Cass & Laura marriage would be built on rock.

How about where everyone else ended up? Were there any surprises that stood out to you?

Alex: I think the one that surprised me most is Aruna (ex-Tara) and Jon (ex-Mimir). Not where they ended up, exactly – Jon building her a body is something I've seen multiple people on Tumblr crossing their fingers for – but rather how much is done with how little.

They're the gods we got to know least, because of when and how they were each introduced, and they don't get much page space here, but I still Got It. The abstraction of Aruna's body, and Jon inevitably growing into his dad but learning from his mistakes... those are both really lovely endings for those characters.

What about you?

Tim: Aruna is obviously the most visually stunning, and I love the design that McKelvie has created. It reminds me of something I can't put my finger on, and for some reason it means that when she started playing guitar, I was like "oh, it's St Vincent". Make of that what you will.

Alex: That's a nice bit of pop-cultural synaesthesia. (…synthaesthesia?)

Tim: Otherwise, I found Umar's evolution really interesting. It felt like some of his selflessness had curdled into anger a little, and seeing him echo Cam was a real heartbreaker. That and his dynamic with Cass - he felt like someone with a whole bunch of tragedy and regret draped around him.

Alex: That's a really interesting take on him. And it's testament to how open these characters' fates are left – I didn't get that vibe off him at all, but it makes complete sense, and I can now see it in the severity of his design.

But the closure of that final plot loop, with the Morrigan prophecy, was definitely something that stuck out to me. It was painful, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. The idea that he's married, but it's to someone who – canonically, word of literal god – isn't the love of his life? Oof.

Tim: Here's a question - would you want to see more of either the 2055 cast or the times in between, or do you think this snapshot was enough? Like, if this had been a final arc, instead of a final issue.

Alex: In the run-up, I assumed this issue would be structured like: ‘five years, and ten years later, and...’. So I definitely thought we’d get more of that stuff than we did.

Honestly, I love these versions of the characters a lot, but I think spending longer with them could only diminish the impact. And I like that there's a certain level of 'nope, you don't get to see this'. It reminds me of what Laura tells us, about her abortion: “You don’t get details.”

Tim: And yeah, I agree. As much as I have questions I'd love answered, the answers I speculate on in my head are probably as satisfying as actually seeing them on the page in some ways. Knowing that the characters got to live on and make choices and mistakes is, in a lot of ways, enough.

We've spoken numerous times before about how WicDiv is a book obsessed with cycles and systems. Do you think the characters have well and truly broken free from what was trapping them?

Alex: Absolutely. I think that's what I found so moving about this issue – their lives moving forward, unencumbered by all the things they kept being dragged back into over those two years. It doesn't mean they're perfect people, in the final reckoning, but they do get to be whole people.

Tim: There's definitely a sense of somewhat messy real lives outside of this moment, something that's hard to convey in such a small space. Eleanor seems to be the one holding on to her iconic poses and perfect sarcasm the most, which absolutely makes sense, but even she feels like someone who has changed and evolved. They are all free to colour outside the lines now, which isn't always pretty, but it's true.

Alex: So we're agreed that the gods all managed to break free of their cycle. But as WicDiv has been coming out, the two of us have also found a neat little groove to live in. How do you feel about that going away?

Tim: This has been a wonderful community to be part of, and I've rarely if ever stumbled across negative parts of it, which is pretty extraordinary for a fandom in the modern age. I will definitely miss watching people react to and interpret new issues as they come out, and I hope the interesting voices that I've discovered through this keep writing about other things that inspire them. How about you?

Alex: It's a weird mix of sadness and relief, because our relationship with this comic is so tied up with thinking and reading and especially writing about it. Both of our lives have changed a lot over the five years WicDiv has been coming out, and in particular we've both been hella busy of late, so I've definitely felt that monthly cycle starting to bite into my neck.

But who am I kidding? I give myself about six weeks till I start missing it all, and send you one of my famous late-night texts, the ones that start "Tim, I've had a bad idea..."

[marshmallow-phd]

Charming Instruction

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Supernatural, Wolf Au

Pairing: Junmyeon x Reader

Summary: You were just an average, everyday college student desperately trying to graduate. Only one more year stood between you and that celebratory walk. However, due to an oversight by your adviser, it seemed that the one class you never wanted to take was required to take that walk. It wasn’t the subject matter that made you uncomfortable. It was the teacher. Your heart sped up every time you saw him and you didn’t want that distraction in your life, attractive or not. With meeting him now an inevitability, you swore that you would keep your hormones in check. But after your first day of class, a series of hi jinks and weird situations lead you to discovering the secret of your professor and why he seemed to bombard your every thought.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I Final

**

Your heart was still racing when you closed the door to your apartment. Raising your hand to your chest, you felt the drum beat keep a steady pace that was well above its normal rhythm.

He’d almost kissed you. He’d almost kissed you.

That had to be what he was doing, right? With the closed eyes and forehead touch? And, oh, god, did you want him to kiss you. How many times had your imagination fluttered in that direction when you weren’t keeping it in check?

Gemma and Cam were lounging on the couch watching some drama on the television and hadn’t caught on to your presence until now. The former tilted her head at you, frowning.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, jumping up from her spot and walking over to you. Out of instinct, she reached out and placed the back of her hand against your cheek. “Why are you so warm? Are you getting sick?”

You shook your head adamantly. “No, I’m fine.”

Taking a step back, Gemma smirked. “Okay, I know we silently agreed to not bring it up anymore, but did something happen with Junie?”

“O-oh, n-no, I, um, I just – no, you see-” Coherency apparently was a skill that had now left you entirely. An efficient enough lie couldn’t be conjured up and you were stuck as a stuttering mess.

Cam was giggling into her mug over on the cough, smartly pressing her lips together and keeping her comments to herself.  You threw her a glare, but stayed quiet, knowing that whatever biting remark you could come up with would just come out choppy and useless.

“Did he kiss you?” Gemma asked excitedly.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you shook your head. “No. But he almost did.”

Your admission cause Cam to accidentally swallow her drink down the wrong pipe, throwing her into a coughing fit. When she was finally able to breathe again, she screeched, “What do you mean he ‘almost did’?”

You started fidgeting with your fingernails, absentmindedly digging out the nonexistent dirt from underneath them. “Well, he was leaning in, but then a couple walking their dog came by, so he pulled back.”

Gemma and Cam gave you identical dumbfounded looks. It was actually quite comical, but you were able to hold back the chuckle building in your throat.

“So, basically, what you’re saying is that he didn’t want to be seen kissing you? Like he was embarrassed?” Cam inferred with a particularly curtly tone. She even slammed her mug down on the side table for emphasis.

You wanted to argue that that wasn’t the case. At least, you were pretty sure that wasn’t the case. They didn’t know that “Junie” was actually your professor and if he’d been seen kissing a student by the wrong person, he’d be in boiling hot water. And even if you were brave enough to confess that little secret to Gemma and Cam, you couldn’t be entirely sure how they’d take it. Cam might smirk at the sneakiness and forbidden aspects of it all, but you could only guess how Gemma would take it. You’d didn’t think she’d exactly be jumping up and down with excitement.

“I don’t think he was embarrassed,” you said meekly. “I think it was just the surprise at the couple’s presence. We were at the park and there wasn’t anyone else there at first.”

“Hm,” Cam pursed her lips, giving you the feeling that she didn’t entirely believe it. “Okay.” She narrowed her eyes at you. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. I was just a little flustered, that’s all. I wasn’t expecting it.”

Gemma patted your head gently. “Okay. Just let us know if you need us to kick his butt.”

That truly managed to make you laugh. While you could see Cam really trying to throw a punch at Junmyeon’s face, you couldn’t imagine for a second the gentle Gemma trying anything to physically harm him. She’d probably instead start lecturing him on the possible psychological damage his actions could have caused you. That was much more her style.

“Thank you,” you smiled at your friends. “But I’m okay. I promise. He’s not going to do anything.”

You actually believed that last sentence. What happened back at the park was probably just a fluke, brought on by the heavy subject the two of you were engaged in. Junmyeon probably didn’t actually want to kiss you because he liked you in that way. He had a mate to find, remember? It was easy to get caught up in the moment. That couple was actually your saving grace, keeping the two of you from doing something you would regret. Yes, that was it.

At least, that’s what you would keep telling yourself.

**

Junmyeon was anticipating seeing you in class today. He wanted to see you again. He wanted to see if he could get you to agree to meet up with him, maybe take you for a run in his wolf form. You’d turned him down last time, but maybe he could persuade you.

Just a little bit of alone time, that’s all he was asking for. A place where you wouldn’t be interrupted, where he wouldn’t be scared of being seen by the wrong person. A place where he could build up the courage to try and kiss you again.

Maybe his plans were getting too elaborate.

He was sure he was getting close to being able to tell you everything. Hearing the way your heart was beating as he leaned in last night was a beautiful melody that he would never get tired of listening to for the rest of his life. And you would have let him kiss your lips. That was the strike that lit up his little match of hope after you’d been pulling away from him.

There was a lightness in Junmyeon’s steps as he headed towards the classroom. Sure, he was an idiot, but wasn’t everyone a fool in love?

Yeah, he could definitely say he was falling in love you. He felt elated when he could make you smile. He loved watching that sparkle in your eye when you were mesmerized by his family’s artifacts. The way you would clam up when you were flustered or the way you could read into the cultural significance of the fairytales he was lecturing on. You paid attention and listened to him on a level that he wasn’t used to. He wanted to get to know every single facet of who you were and fall deeper in.

You were already there when Junmyeon walked into the classroom. He nearly exploded when he saw that you were back in your front row seat, materials out and ready to start the period. No one else was around you and the other students that were scattered among the room were too busy talking to each other or scrolling through their phones to pay too much attention.

As calmly as he could, he walked up to you, earning your curious gaze when he reached the long, curved table where you sat.

“Can I see you after class?” he whispered. When you nodded, he simply smiled before walking back to his desk.

He was practically bouncing with anticipation throughout the whole lecture. It was a stupid thing to be excited about, but he couldn’t help it. Part of him always expected to be rejected whenever he asked you about staying back or meeting up with him. But you never told him no once he was finally able to ask. You would avoid him at times, not giving him the chance to say one word, but hopefully those times were behind him.

As class came to an end, you continued to just sit there in your seat as all the other students filed out. Junmyeon busied himself at his desk, pretending to go over lecture notes and piling up the quizzes he’d collected at the beginning of the hour.

“You wanted to see me?”

With his back still to you, Junmyeon smiled widely. Your voice was quiet and unsure and he couldn’t help but find it adorable. Turning around after he was able to get his face under control, he started, “I was, um-” he cleared his throat. Smooth, Junmyeon. “I was just wondering if you had any plans Friday afternoon.”

You frowned guiltily. “Well, yeah, actually I do. Midterms are next week, so I’ll be spending the weekend studying. I have a big test on Monday.”

Junmyeon deflated. He’d completely forgotten about that crucial part of the semester, second only to finals. “Oh, right. Hm.” Racking is brain, he tried to come up with some sort of solution. The next meeting outside of the classroom would have to be on your terms. “May I see your phone?”

“M-my phone?” you stammered.

He chuckled. “Yes. The cellular device you used to talk and text.”

By the look on your face, you didn’t entirely appreciate his comment, but you fished your phone out from your back pocket, unlocking it before handing it over. Junmyeon quickly added in his contact information before giving it back to you.

“There,” he sighed. “Now if you find yourself a little bored or needing a break from studying, you can get ahold of me. I’ll be free all weekend, if you change your mind.”

Your eyes were wide, filled with innocent surprise. “Okay…. I’ll, um, let you know. I should head to my next class now.”

“Of course.” Junmyeon watched as you hurriedly ran up the steps, tripping only once as you dashed away. The chuckle bubbling up in his chest couldn’t be held back anymore as he piled the papers scattered on the desk together and left the lecture hall.

Since he didn’t have another class until later in the afternoon, he headed back to his office to get started on grading the ever growing pile of quizzes that he’d been putting off. It took him a good hour and a half to get through the multiple classes’ worth of grading and plug the results into the school’s site. His eyes were beginning to glaze over and he was already looking forward to when he could head home.

Knock, knock, knock.

Junmyeon perked up at the sound. Did you, perhaps, change your mind to come see him?

“Come in,” he called out, hurrying to clear out the papers from his desk.

But it wasn’t you that slowly walked through the door.

It was Soomi.

Standing up from his desk, Junmyeon rushed over to the door, glancing up and down the hallway to make sure it was empty from any nosy gossipers before closing the door and turning back around.

“Soomi, I told you-”

She put up a hand to stop him. “I’m not here for that. I’m here on business.”

“Business?” Junmyeon frowned. He walked back to his desk, sitting down taking off his glasses. “What do you mean?”

Soomi didn’t sit down, opting instead to keep standing, arms folded across her stomach. She sighed. “Nia had a vision.”

Junmyeon couldn’t understand what was so important about those four little words. “Who’s Nia?”

“She’s my trainee,” Soomi explained. “She’s one of the few among the witches that can receive visions without casting a spell.”

“They just come to her?” Junmyeon didn’t like where this conversation was headed.

“Yes,” Soomi confirmed. “Poor thing still isn’t able to completely handle them when they come on nor be able to control them. We’re working with her on them, but it’s still touch and go.”

Junmyeon nodded sympathetically. “And what did Nia see?”

“Something is coming.” The way Soomi lowered her voice and stared at Junmyeon made the hair on his arms stand up.

“What’s coming?”

Soomi shook her head. “Nia couldn’t see. It all came in flashes, she said. She couldn’t get a clear grasp on what she was seeing. But there was strong emotion with it. Fear, terror, the need to protect. She collapsed after it was over, the vision was so forceful. Something is coming for the pack and you must be prepared.”

There wasn’t anything Junmyeon could really say. A vague notion didn’t give them a good foundation on how to proceed. Until there was more information, there was very little they could do to prepare.

“I appreciate the warning,” Junmyeon sighed. “I’ll talk to the boys. I’m sure it won’t be anything that we can’t handle. We did take out a pack of hybrids.”

Soomi kept her gaze down, licking her lips as if she were trying to get the words she was holding back to slip out. She rounded the desk, carefully hopping up to sit on the now cleared table top. Taking Junmyeon’s hand in both of hers, she stayed quiet.

Junmyeon wanted to pull away, to tell Soomi to please get off his desk, but the gentleman in him just couldn’t find a nice way to say it. He’d instead let you say your piece and leave.

“Junmyeon,” she whispered, “I know you've found your mate, but that doesn’t mean my feelings for you just go away. I don’t want anything happen to you.”

“I appreciate that, Soomi.” Out of politeness, he squeezed her hand, before starting to pull away, “But, I think-”

“Junmyeon- oh.”

Shit.

**

Why did it have to be you?

Why did you have to make stupid decisions? Let yourself hope on useless things?

It had seem at like a good idea at the time. Yes, Junmyeon had give you his number, but it felt a little silly to text or call when you could just… see him.

So, after your second class of the day, you headed off to the professor’s building, telling yourself that if he wasn’t there then you would text him. You were sure you could carve out the time to spend a little of Saturday afternoon with whatever he’d had in mind. At first, you’d thought that maybe you’d see if Saturday morning would work, but you knew that if you did block out the morning from him, you’d be too tempted to spend the entire day with him.

When you reached Junmyeon’s office, you hadn’t been thinking that he might not be alone. The sign outside his door didn’t indicate he was with another student so, like an idiot, you just opened the door. And your heart didn’t just sink.

It cracked into a million pieces you didn’t believe would ever be put back together again.

Soomi was sitting on Junmyeon’s desk, holding his hand while looking down at him with that look you knew all too well.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “I should have knocked.”

Junmyeon jumped up from his seat. “No, (y/n), wait-”

You didn’t stick around to hear whatever explanation he’d felt the urge to give you. You didn’t need one. It was none of your business and you needed to get out of there before either of them saw you break.

Once out of the building, you didn’t stop running. Only when you reached the crosswalk off of school grounds were you finally forced to stop. Bouncing on the balls of your feet, you wanted to just sprint out into the street to get to the other side, in case someone actually decided to come after you. The chances of that happening were slim to none, but you let the thought linger anyway.

Safe inside your apartment, you threw yourself down on your bed and let the tears flow free.

For the next several days, you just stayed there in bed. Not even the urgency of midterms could coax you out of your room and onto campus grounds. You only crawled out of bed when your roommates were gone to use the bathroom and grab snacks so you didn’t starve to death. Other than that, you simply lied there and stared at the wall, playing the scene of Junmyeon and Soomi over and over. Your phone rang several times, but you never answered it or even bothered to look to see who it was. You had a pretty good inkling and you didn’t feel like talking to him.

“(y/n)?”

It was Friday night and Cam and Gemma had more than caught on to the fact that something was wrong. Both of them tiptoed into your room and sat as carefully as they could on the bed.

“Hey,” Gemma greeted softly. You barely peeked out from under your covers. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

You shook your head, too ashamed that you were falling into the same pattern of hopelessness that you’d experienced your freshman year, only this was a hundred times worse. Back then, you saw the light at the end of the tunnel, you just had to pick yourself up and walk towards it. This time you felt like you were lost in a cold, dark cave with no idea which way led out.

“We’re going to go to a party,” Cam informed you as she rubbed your leg in a motherly fashion over the covers. “I think you should go with us. Maybe take your mind off of whatever happened?”

“I don’t think a party is the solution,” you grumbled.

“Not a solution,” Gemma chimed in. “Simply a momentary distraction. Why not show the world that you’re strong and don’t let temporary setbacks or people who aren’t important keep you from living your life?”

With a huff, you flipped the covers off of your top half, letting you stare at your friends. “I’m not a huge supporter of drinking away your problems.”

Cam shook her head, “That’s not-”

Flinging up into a sitting position, you stopped her, “But, this one time, I can give into to the idea and live a little like a college student for one night.”

The grins that grew on your roommate’s face were scary and almost made you change your mind, but you couldn’t go back out now. You’d tried the wallowing around in bed doing nothing and that didn’t really work to ease your pain. So why not try the other extreme? You’d already had your heart broken. What was the worst that could happen?