#he gets to set up the viewing room just so and spruce up the bodies w nice clothes and makeup

[the-last-dillpickle]

DS9 modern day AU where Garak is a funeral director

[nerdygirlramblings]

Meghan Trainor's "Wrap Me Up" has me feeling some kinda way

poly!141 x fem!reader

"We'll be home by Christmas Eve," John sighs. It's been a long mission, made even harder being away from you at the holidays.

"Oh, John," your voice catches. You will not let him know you're about to cry. You take a deep breath and put as much love as you can into your reply. "That's the best gift I could ask for."

Half a world away, he smiles at his phone.

~~~

Two weeks later and you receive word from base the boys landed safely, and Johnny textes when they leave so you wouldn't be spooked when they troop through the door. That gives you a 40 minute window to make sure the gift you arranged is wrapped and under the tree.

You'd ordered takeaway from everyone's favorite kebab place. You know they would have preferred home cooking, and if it weren't so close to Christmas, you would have had a whole roast going for them, but you put effort into their gift and want it to be perfect.

You dash to the bathroom, arranging your hair to highlight the big red bow. Your makeup is understated, a barely there, natural glow accentuated with some gold glitter near your eyes.

Finally, you pull on the lingerie set you'd bought just for this. Red and lacy with ribbons holding most of it together. You'd practiced putting it on a few times already, making sure you could secure everything. As you tie the final bow, the one that held your breasts in, you dust more glitter across your collar and cleavage.

You are already wet, and the boys won't be here for another fifteen minutes.

You know how to take care of your boys, and this present was going to be as much for you as for them. You hadn't had a good orgasm the whole time they were gone. Even the toys they'd gifted you, molded from their cocks, weren't enough. Yes, they'd been together and thus not in so much of a dry spell as you, but you also knew quickies on cots and hand-jobs in the field were a far cry from what they wanted. What they craved. What they deserved.

A nice night at home, fucking, cuddling, and reconnecting would make everyone feel better.

You hear gravel crunch in the drive and lay yourself out on the area rug in the living room, white lights twinkling in the spruce behind you and a fire crackling behind the grate. You're grateful the house has a slight entryway with a wall hiding their Christmas surprise from immediate view. As a final touch, you turn on the radio low to some traditional holiday music.

The door opens and you hear bodies shuffle in, thuds as they drop their gear and remove their boots.

"Bonnie!" Johnny calls, tired but you hear the relief in his voice too, "We're home! Where are ye?"

You pitch your voice to carry over the music. "I'm in the living room." You watch their shadows move, and then there's a body in the doorway. It's Simon, his face bare in the safety of your home, searching for you and effectively blocking the others from seeing anything yet. He doesn't think to look at the floor, so you lightly say, "Happy Christmas, Si."

His eyes snap to you, and you watch the change come over him. He goes from weary to energetic in an instant. "Why isn' this a nice present," he says as he stalks to you. Kyle and Johnny follow him in and track his movement, clocking you immediately.

"God, doll," Kyle sighs. "What a sight you are." He too has a spring in his step you're sure was not there a moment ago.

Johnny moves so fast he's on his knees next to you before Simon reaches you. He stretches a hand out to pull the end of the ribbon across your chest, but you smack it away. When he pours, you simply say, "This is a present for everyone. No opening it without John."

"Oi, Cap! Get cher arse in here!" he bellows. Kyle and Simon are fully in the room, kneeling like Johnny, hungry, revenant looks on their faces. They haven't tried untying anything, but their hands twitch. You can tell they'd like nothing better than to pull open the bows and ribbons and lay you bare.

John finally comes in, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Until he finally pulls himself into the moment and sees you on the floor. His back straightens, shoulders unfurling. He stands larger in his frame. There is pure want in how he looks at you.

"Welcome home, Captain. Happy Christmas," you say, smile stretching wide. He starts walking as you continue. "You boys have been so good, I thought we could start with presents first this year."

John shoulders his way past the others, taking a space immediately in front of you. The others shuffle around to give him space and access.

"You said our return was the best gift you could ask for. Well, you're the best gift we could ever get." He leans forward and captures your mouth in a searing kiss, one hand on your head and the other going to the bow Johnny tried to undo.

The others take it as permission to finally unwrap their present.

[grainscharacter]

In the grand scheme of things, it could be worse. That’s what he’s telling himself. In his head, again and again, it could be worse.

He even gave himself a fake task! He’s set himself up for success!

It’s terrifying.

Etho isn’t sure why he chose Bdubs—well. That’s not quite true. But he’s regretting it. Bdubs, he has unfortunately learned, is quite committed to eye contact. Normally, this is fine. Sometimes it’s even a good thing.

Now, every time Bdubs looks at him, Etho has a split second of terror, a split second to stop what he is doing if it’s dangerous, before his limbs lock up and his muscles turn to cement and no matter how hard he wishes he could, he cannot move his body.

To be honest, he hasn’t tried that hard to. Look, he wants to win as much as the next person! It’s just—when the skeleton was shooting at him, he had a split second to put his shield up and then Bdubs was looking at him and he couldn’t even flinch.

All of this to say—Etho is avoiding people. It’s not—it’s not forever. He just. He needs a break. And he’s being helpful! Bdub’s bedroom could use some decorations! It didn’t have to be so drab! So he’s adding some moss bits, and just all around sprucing the place up. It’s fine. He’s fine.

He’s so fine that he doesn’t notice Grian has opened the door until he’s halfway to adjusting the blankets on Bdubs’ bed and his arms just. freeze.

For a second, he forgets. For a second, all he knows is that he was trying to be nice and helpful and suddenly he can’t move. For a second—

That’s not the point.

The door creaks as it shuts. Etho hears footsteps around the room, and then—

“Etho!”

Grian. It’s Grian—not a yellow name. Not a red name. He’s terrified of getting caught out by a red name. He’d be such an easy target, not even able to flinch, but no, it’s just Grian.

“Hey Grian!” Etho thinks that maybe the y in that word didn’t have to be so long. It’s fine. He’s fine.

“I was just checking in—I hadn’t heard from you in a while, no one’s seen you around recently. You alright man?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine, I’m just—fixing up Bdubs’ bed. Y’know, so that when he comes back it’ll be… clean.”

Grian comes into his field of view, nodding, and for a moment Etho is so relieved that the Secret Keeper didn’t take away his ability to talk before reality sets in.

His arms are still frozen incriminatingly over Bdubs’ bed. He hasn’t moved them. Etho knows he and Grian are on the same side, but Grian is. Grian is Grian.

It’ll be fine.

“Okay, I’m just going to. Look, Etho, this desk shelving unit thing you’ve got is really cool looking, I’m just going to”—Grian doesn’t finish his sentence, but Etho’s arms unfreeze, and he’s so relieved he doesn’t even bother to wonder why Grian is looking at the unimpressive desk setup.

He shakes out his arms, sore and painful from where they’d been held up for so long, and then throws himself onto Bdubs’ bed. It’s comfortable, at least.

“Look, Grian. I appriciate that you’re here, and checking in on me and all that, but I’m fine so if you could just”—

“I’m not looking.”

What? “What?”

“I mean—I’m not. I’m not going to look. You can leave if you want. I won’t stop you.”

“But you’re not”—

“I’m not looking.”

Etho flounders for a second. “You know my task!”

“I do,” Grian tilts his head to the side. If he were looking, Etho knows, he’d have a sheepish expression, “I’m not going to—to sell you out or anything.”

Etho stares at him.

“You can. You can go, if you want.”

“When you say you won’t stop me…”

“I mean—yeah. I won’t. I won’t look at you.”

Etho considers this. Grian is still standing at the desk, staring at the wall. He sits up straighter.

“You can look.”

“What?”

“You can look,” Etho repeats, “Just for a second.”

Grian turns around, and there’s something open and vulnerable on his face Etho’s not quite sure how to read. He’s not sure he wants to, so he closes his eyes tight. The all consuming lack of movement doesn’t get to him as much when he can’t see what he should be running away from.

“I’m not going to—to force you to sit there all day.”

“No! No. I mean, you could. But you could also just, I don’t know, get comfortable. Somewhere you can’t see me. Lie down on the bed and look at the ceiling or something.”

Grian considers this. Etho can almost hear the idea tick in his mind.

“…Why?”

“Well,” Etho starts, and then realizes he doesn’t actually know why, “It would be nice to not have to worry, I guess. I won’t make you.”

“No,” Grian agrees, “It would be nice.”

He moves around the room until he’s lying at the door of the bed staring at the ceiling. Etho feels the discomfort of concrete in his veins.

Finally, the sounds of movement stop. Etho cracks his eyes open, watches as Grian closes his eyes and lets out a soft sigh.

“I’m not looking.”

[trektraveler]

Nightingale Chapter Eleven: Do You Like My Boots?

Summary: Jensen Ackles seemed to have it all. A hit television series fifteen years running, a budding music career and a stunning wife. To the casual observer, his life was perfect. But it was a façade. No more real than the supernatural world created on a soundstage.

That day on the lake had started with uncertainty, but when he pulled you from the water everything became clear. The truth was, he’d been the one drowning.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jensen x Reader, Jensen x You

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Genevieve Padalecki, Misha Collins, Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, Drowning, Fluff, Angst, Smut, unprotected sex

Chapter Eleven: Do You Like My Boots?

Word Count: 4612

Author’s Notes: This is a complete work of fiction about a real life person. The circumstances are totally made up and are in no way a commentary on the fantastic Jensen Ackles or his family.

This is also a unique reader insert story as I have given the reader a physical description including hair color, eye color and body type. Hopefully you can still lose yourself in the utter fantasy where Jensen is the hero and you are ripe for rescuing!

Additional Notes: The response to this story has been beyond my expectations! You guys have been the best! Thank you for continuing to read my work and encourage me, its kept my eye on the prize :)

Additional Warnings: Here's another chapter of sexy fluff! Seriously, its all there so if that's not your bag or if you are not of age, steer clear. No hard feelings.

Series Masterlist

It was snowing by the time you and Jensen pulled up to his little place in the mountains. It was absolutely massive. A perfect balance of rustic materials and modern design. Thick, interlocked logs stained dark, local stones perfectly stacked made up numerous fireplaces. A covered deck wrapped around the entire first floor and jutted out over a stunning vista. Century old pine trees surrounded the property, standing guard against anyone who dared invade the peace and privacy.

You were still gawking when Jensen opened your door and offered you his hand. “This is your cabin in the woods?”

“It’s great, isn’t it?” he beamed as he led you up the steps to the front door. He set down your shared suitcase and entered the access code.

A few lights automatically came on when you entered, casting a warm, welcoming glow. The house was made up of large, sweeping spaces anchored by thick area rugs and massive pieces of rustic furniture. Tooled leather, hardwood floors, elk antlers recycled as chandeliers. Every part of it was over-sized, warm, and inviting. If the state of Texas designed a house, this would be it.

“I love this place, been coming up here for years but can never seem to get enough of it.” Jensen said taking your coat and hanging it beside his.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” you breathed, slowly walking into the vaulted entryway.

The staircase was a masterful piece of iron scrollwork and cedar that led to the second floor. There was a balcony that looked out over the living room and faced an entire wall of windows.

“Come on,” Jensen said, pulling you further into the house. “You’ve got to see this view.”

It was a postcard. Rugged, jutting mountains peaked with white. Countless acres of untouched wilderness where mother nature could run free. Thousands of blue spruce pines already dusted with snow that fell in thick flakes. It was majestic in a way that made you feel honored just to witness it.

“What do you think?” he came up and wrapped his arms around you from behind. His chin rested on your shoulder, and he whispered in you ear, “Will it do?”

You leaned back into him, your hands on top of his, “Its beautiful, how’d you ever find the strength to leave?”

“It’s harder every time, that’s for sure.”

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, just watching the snow coming steadily down and coat the world in a pristine, ivory white. A blissful piece of paradise created itself around the two in the quiet.

“There’s a hot tub here.”

“Oh?”

“Yup.”

“I don’t have a swimsuit.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

You turned in his arms and faced him, “You expect me to skinny dip in the snow?”

“Don’t you worry, I’ll keep you warm,” he kissed you slow and deep.

“Mmm,” you hummed. “You’re off to a solid start.”

“What do you say I give you the grand tour and then we get a fire going and watch the snow? Settle in the for the night.”

“I thought you already had a fire going,” you teased.

“When it comes to you, I do,” he said with a wink. “Now, come on. Let me show you the rest of the place before you distract me completely.”

You would distract him several times before he relented and built the promised blaze in the huge hearth in the great room. Making love in front of a fire while a snowstorm howled outside was well used trope in countless paperbacks. And you could now attest, it lived up to the hype. The intimacy of it was stunning. Nothing and no one else existed outside of that space.

You laid there in the nest of blankets and pillows Jensen built for the two of you. No sounds except for the crackling logs and the steady beating of his heart under your ear. He held you close, lazily trailing his fingers up and down your back while you traced patterns on his chest. Contentment fell over you as he brushed a kiss over your forehead.

“I can’t tell you how many times I fantasized about this,” he confessed in a low voice. “First time I saw this fireplace, I knew it would be perfect.”

“You’ve never had a sleepover in here before?”

“Never had the right girl for a sleepover.”

“Oh, I thought it was because this cabin belongs to Jared.”

He pulled back to look at you, “You knew?”

You propped your chin up on his chest to meet his gaze, “There are a ton of pictures of the Padaleckis all over this house. And there are kids toys in the loft.”

“Could be my toys.”

“Yeah, yeah. So long as he doesn’t mind us having earth shattering sex on his living room rug.”

Jensen grinned, looking justifiably smug, “It was good, wasn’t it?”

You felt your cheeks heat up in spite of yourself. “Ten out of ten.”

“Actually, I gave Jared this house. Wedding present.”

“Wow! Was every other gift on the registry taken?”

“No, not like that. This was a rental property for a long time. We discovered it in the early days of Supernatural, and we loved it. So rather than go home during our breaks, we’d drive up here. Bring up a few other people, play around, ski.”

“Bachelor life?” You asked, laying your head back down on his chest.

“Bachelor life,” he confirmed. “Anyway, after a couple of years, it came up for sale. We both wanted it, we’re both competitive as hell so we got into this bidding war. Then Gen came along. When he told me he was going to propose, I withdrew my offer so he could buy it.”

“That’s what best friends are for.”

“You got it. They haven’t been up here as much with the kids and all, they just get busy. I was actually spent three months here this past summer by myself. Thought it would be a little lonely, but it was great.”

You were thoughtful as the fire crackled. You’d already put two and two together, but this would be the first time you were going to broach what you knew was a sore subject. You didn’t want to cause him any pain, but if this relationship was going to go anywhere, it was important to discuss it.

“Was that after your divorce?”

“I was wondering if you were ever going to ask me about that.”

His hand resumed it soothing motion up and down your back. You realized that it was as comforting for him as it was for you.

“Maddy mentioned it, but I didn’t want to push you. You can talk to me about it if you want, but you don’t have to. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy thing to go through.”

He fell silent for a moment; the fire crackling and the wind were the only sounds in the vast space. When he finally spoke, he sounded older. And tired.

“Her name is Danneel. We were both in the industry and had know each other for years. Dated off and on, but nothing big. One day, she turned up at a network party in L.A. and something was just different. Jared had been dating Gen for a while and things were getting serious and I started looking at women in a different light.”

“You were looking to settle down?”

“Not quite, but a lot of my buddies were getting hitched. I knew I wanted a family of my own one day, so I started taking dating more seriously. And there was pressure from the studio, talk about my image and all that.”

“That really happens?”

“It’s just part of what comes with being the lead on a successful show. Jared was under the same microscope. There isn’t really talk about marriage and kids specifically, but Jare and I are close and that plays well with the Winchester brothers vibe. It all works together. Then Jared and Gen get together, a beautiful couple, a beautiful wedding. It put this weird kind of spotlight on my bachelorhood. All of the sudden the execs are asking about when I’m going down the aisle.”

You frowned at that. “So, you didn’t get married for love?”

“No.”

He felt you stiffen at that, and he was sorry for it. He didn’t want to upset you, but he needed to be honest, with you and with himself.

“I loved her; I really did. But I’ve had a lot of time to reflect on it and looking back I can see it clear. I didn’t feel the way you should feel about the woman you’re going to spend the rest of your life with.” He brushed his fingers through your hair, hoping you would understand.

“I wanted a family. The time seemed right, Jared was getting on with his life too. It wasn’t lighting bolts and earthquakes, but we matched up in a certain way. And I thought it could work. I did everything I could to make it work.”

You could hear the pain still there under the surface. No one goes into a marriage thinking it will end badly. Its that famous road paved with good intentions. Even though the end of that relationship obviously made way for yours, you still felt heartsick for him.

“So, what happened?”

“It was clear pretty early on that we wanted completely different things out of life. She’s a city girl, I love the country. She likes parties and the glitz and glamour of Hollywood. I live for the work but could easily do without the rest.” He let out a bark of a laugh, “Hell, she never even came up here. Hates the snow.”

“Her loss.”

“Yeah, and with my work schedule months would pass before we saw each other. When I did go back to Austin, it was like coming home to a stranger. She just didn’t have any interest in bridging that gap. Then with Supernatural ending, I thought we could fix things. Maybe start over. Have that family we both wanted… I thought we both wanted. I took the red eye flight to surprise her for her birthday. Turns out she surprised me, walked in on her with a buddy of mine.”

Your heart broke for him. You found his hand and brushed a kiss across his knuckles, “I’m so sorry.”

“I turned right around and walked out. Filed for divorce the next day and came up here to try and get my head around it. God bless Jared, he dropped in a few times to make sure I was still alive and not talking to squirrels.”

“I’m glad he was there for you.”

“You know that day on the lake he told me that the whole divorce and everything that led up to it was making way for something better. And I was so stuck in my own misery that I couldn’t imagine a way out. Then there you were, paddling that kayak across the water and I thought… look at that gorgeous girl! I’ll never have a chance with a woman like that if I don’t get my head out of my ass.”

His gaze caught yours and held. The depth of emotion there hit you square in the heart and your eyes grew damp. His fingers brushed your cheekbones and jaw, as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

“When I pulled you out of that water and you weren’t breathing… I was terrified. I’ve never prayed so hard in all my life. Then you opened those big, blue eyes. God, I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.” He took a ragged breath, even thinking about that day made his heart clench.

“All these years, I’ve been trying so hard to make something work that was wrong from the jump because I figured that was as good as it was going to get. Jared kept telling me that I deserved better, but there was always this part of me that didn’t believe it. Especially after the divorce.”

It was the first time he’d said it aloud. It wasn’t an easy thing to admit, even to himself. Hollywood wasn’t an ideal place for one to struggle with self-confidence. But he was an actor, and after a while he slipped into his public persona just like he would any other role. In private, it was a different matter. He may have been married, but there was always a lack of intimacy on a certain level that eroded his self-worth. He didn’t realize how much damage had been done until he met you.

“He’s always been a cock-eyed optimist. But he was right, there was something better coming my way. You’ve made me a believer, Y/N. Happy endings, true love, all of it. Rainbows and all. I’m here for it because every day I have with you is the best day of my life.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until he swiped the tears away with the pad of his thumb, “Don’t cry, Sweetheart. I didn’t tell you that to make you cry.”

“It’s the only reasonable response,” you smiled though the tears and kissed him sweetly twice before resting your forehead against his.

“You are so incredible. You’re kind and you’re generous. You’ve got this huge heart and you put it into everything you do. To still do that after it was so badly broken, takes guts. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be loved. Completely and totally. Every day. And I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you never doubt it again.”

You meant it, and you spent the rest of the night showing him just how much.

The next day, Jensen suggested a trip into town. There was a cute, little boutique-like village just down the mountain with all kinds of shops and cafes that he was certain you’d love. Not to mention that the two of you had depleted the cabin’s supply of whiskey and Jensen was adamant that no soak in the hot tub would be complete without it.

You showered and changed for the day. Opting for thermal leggings and a long, belted sweater in a sophisticated ivory. You pulled your hair into a ponytail and brushed a bit of make up across your face. Pleased with your reflection, you pulled on your boots and jogged downstairs thinking you’d find Jensen in the kitchen.

The first floor was deserted, but you heard a scraping sound just out the back door. Peering through the windows, you saw him shoveling snow off the deck. There was a big pile of it that must have slid down from the roof during the night. He was making quick work of it. The deck wrapped around the entire house and was nearly cleared off thanks to Jensen’s efforts.

He didn’t even notice when you quietly stepped outside with him. He just kept his rhythm, filling his shovel and tossing the contents over the railing. Something about this moment struck you. Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you took out your phone. He had promised a soak in the jacuzzi today. The jacuzzi that had been buried during the storm. So, he likely came out to get it ready for you and decided to do the whole damn deck. Because that was who he was. A hard-working guy with a heart of gold who kept his promises.

When he finally completed his task, he turned and found you recording him with your phone. He cocked an eyebrow and pulled off one work glove with his teeth.

“Well, it ain’t gonna shovel itself.”

You laughed and wrapped your arms up around Jensen’s neck, “You didn’t have to do the whole thing.”

“Hey, nothing’s too good for my baby,” he said with a quick kiss and a smack on the ass. You squealed in surprise and giggled as he headed into the house to change.

Jensen was right, the mountain town was adorable. He took you in a few of his favorite shops, including an outer wear clothing store and a whiskey tasting room. While he picked out a good selection of bottles for a case, you slipped next door to the bookshop. It was a narrow, two-story shop that had that magical feeling the minute you walked in the door. Sunbeams cascaded in through the front windows where a striped, yellow cat curled up for a nap. There were several hidden alcoves consisting of little more than a table and chair, inviting customers to get lost in a book. They had a few new releases, but mostly carried secondhand books. With a smile of acknowledgement to the lady behind the counter, you headed towards the reference section in the back.

By the time Jensen caught up with you, you had several medical textbooks picked out. It didn’t strike you until started pulling them down from the shelves, but with each volume came clarity. You were a doctor once, and you desperately wanted to be one again. But that wasn’t going to happen without a lot of hard work. Strangely, that appealed to you almost as much as actually getting to practice medicine.

Jensen carried your tower of books to the check out, “No beach reads for you, huh?”

“No beach,” you replied, pulling out your own debit card to pay the clerk.

That felt good too. It was another step towards being a whole person. With your identity came the ability to pay your own way. You had no desire to be a kept woman, you wanted to be a match, a partner, an equal. Now you could be, and it felt incredible.

After depositing the books in the car, Jensen led you towards the coffee shop at the edge of the town square.

“They’ve got the best cappuccino. Seriously, I’ve only had better on my trip to Italy,” he said, wrapping an arm around your waist.

You leaned into the embrace, enjoying the closeness and the scent of his fantastic cologne. “If you’re trying to impress me, it’s working.”

“Sweetheart, I’m always trying to impress you.”

As you approached the café, a group of young women exited in an excited swarm. Giggling and frantically waving at the man beside you. They pointed their phones at the two of you, and you froze. You really weren’t sure what to do. You’d been cocooned in the warm cloud of romance, to have the outside world barging in on it was jarring.

Jensen stopped and peered down at you under the guise of adjusting your coat collar, “We can leave if you’re uncomfortable.”

Your eyes darted over to the girls who were really just that, girls. Young and excited at seeing one of their favorite actors.

“No,” you said with a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. You should go say hello.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, go get ‘em cowboy, before the one in the pink coat hyperventilates.”

He gave you his best Dean Winchester wink and sauntered over to the girls, “Good afternoon, ladies.”

Once again, you had to admire his ease with his adoring public. A perfect blend of gracious charm and humility. Autographs and smiles.

God, do they teach that at Supernatural bootcamp or is he just that good?

“Is that your girlfriend?”

Your eyes widened as you realized you’d been spotted. Of course, you had, but it never occurred to you that they’d been interested in you personally. Why would they be? You weren’t a demon killing Winchester. You weren’t even remotely famous. Suddenly it hit you that you had no idea what to do in this situation. What was proper etiquette for answering questions from the fans of the man you were dating. Wait… were you dating? The two of you never got around to discussing it.

Jensen wasn’t just an actor; he was a proper public figure. These sorts of interactions were important to his image. It was all part of his career; you couldn’t just say the wrong thing and screw that up for him.

Jensen’s warm gaze found your panicked one and he smiled. In that moment he managed to completely reassure you. The ground was steady again under your feet and you smiled back.

His message to you was clear. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.

“Yeah. That’s my girl.”

Jensen was testing the hot tub while you changed into your new swimsuit. It was near dusk and unlike the previous evening, the night air was crisp but still. The cloudless sky would be an inky blue and studded with stars soon and he couldn’t wait to point out the constellations to you. He lit a few fat, pillar candles and opened an aged bottle of bourbon. All he needed was his girl and everything would be perfect.

“I told you, you don’t need one.”

“Does that mean you don’t want me to model it for you?” you teased, your tongue peeking out from between your teeth. “I got it just for you.”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

He was just settling his back against a particularly strong jet when he heard the sliding glass door open. The distinct sound of women’s heels on the deck boards had him turning his head. He nearly dropped his whiskey glass in the water.

God damn. Cowboy boots. You were wearing a pair of damned cowboy boots! Dark blue, tooled leather with tiny stars. The silk robe matched it and was so short it barely covered your backside and left your mile-long legs bare.

The boots were unexpected, but the coordinating cowboy hat took it over the top. Midnight blue with a silver band. Jensen watched with great appreciation as you slowly approached the tub, your hips gently swaying with each step you took. You didn’t say a word as you pulled the sash at your waist and let the robe drop at your feet.

Your suit went with the hat and boots. A next-to-nothing two piece that had western fringe accents. The faintest of breezes ghosted over your nearly naked body and goosebumps broke out all over and caused your nipples to harden. Judging from the darkening of Jensen’s eyes, he noticed and approved.

“Do you like my boots?” you asked softly.

“I love ‘em,” he replied, watching with great appreciation as you slowly stepped out of them and came closer.

He held out his hand to you as you descended into the steaming water. You smiled at him from under the brim of your hat, enjoying the feminine confidence that filled you as Jensen stared.

“I wasn’t sure about the hat.”

“It’s perfect.” He gently tugged you down to sit on his lap. “You’re perfect.”

The two of you stayed like that for a long while, making out in the bubbles like teenagers. Thin plumes of white steam swirled around you and up into the ether. It was a magical combination of utter relaxation and complete arousal. Eventually, you came up for air and he handed you your own glass of whiskey.

“What are we drinking to?”

“To the Lone Star State?” you suggested, tossing your hat up onto the deck.

He chuckled and clinked his glass against yours. “To the bluebonnets.”

The smooth, smokey vanilla notes lingered on your tongue even after you swallowed. “Oh, that is nice.”

Jensen drew you to his side and settled an arm around your shoulders, “Mmm. Very nice. You have a good time today, Sweetheart?”

“I loved it.”

“Even though we were interrupted? I know you were a little uncomfortable.”

“I just didn’t expect them to want to talk to me too and want my picture.”

“I know it seems strange; it just comes hand in hand with the gig. Always has. They were the same way with Danneel.”

“But she’s an actress, right? I’m just a regular person, I’m not famous or anything.”

“First of all, you’re not just anything. You’re incredible. In every way.” Jensen curled a finger under you chin, making you look directly into his eyes. “Never ever forget that.”

You nodded and he continued, “The fans, they’re going to be curious about you and I can’t change that. I’m an actor with a successful show and a moderate amount of fame, but that doesn’t mean you have to be in the public eye too. I’m not going to sugar coat it… it can be a lot. Some people can be cruel. Most of them are normal folks who are enthusiastic about my work, some are just more invasive.”

“Will you teach me what to do? What to say? I don’t want to say the wrong thing and have it reflect negatively on you.”

“I will,” he pledged. “But I’m serious, you don’t have to. If you want to be completely private, I can make that happen. I just have to know what you want.”

“I want to be with you,” you automatically answered. “And I don’t want you to worry about me all the time. The only reason I was so nervous was because I didn’t know how to act. You show me the ropes, and I’ll be good to go.”

He studied you, concern lingering in his handsome features. “You sure?”

“Absolutely.” You said with a decisive nod. “And I want to be a doctor again.”

That got a grin out of him. “Yeah? So that’s why you bought that bookstore out of Grey’s Anatomy?”

“McMillan sent me an email with everything I need to do. The tests will be extensive and just about as tough as board certifications. I’m going to have to hit the books hard if I want my job back.”

“Hmm, well maybe I can help you study.” Jensen murmured, tracing a finger down your neck to the valley between your breasts. “Test your knowledge.”

“Where do you want to start?”

His fingers continued their exploration, spanning your ribcage. “Here.”

His thumb followed the outline of your ribs, counting them through the layers of muscle and epidermis. “These have names?”

“The first seven pairs of ribs are fixed, called Vertebrosternal.”

“Mmm hmm,” he murmured, kissing softly along your jawline.

“Costae Verae in Latin.” You tried to concentrate despite what he was doing with his tongue. “The next five pairs are Vertebrochondral and Vertebral ribs… in Latin it’s… oh God…”

Jensen grinned against your throat while his fingers traveled further down just below your bikini bottom. “What’s that Latin?”

“Costae… Spuriae,” you breathed, wiggling against him.

“Good girl,” he praised, pulling at the bikini string so you bottoms came away. His thumb found that sensitive bundle of nerves and played while his other hand roamed across your collarbone.

“This one?”

“Clavicle. S shaped bone that… that serves as a strut,” He was moving this thumb in a circle now. You loved that.

“A… a strut between the… oh! The shoulder blade and the… the sternum.”

Jensen eased a finger up inside and watched the sensations play across your face. He never got tired of seeing your reactions. You were so responsive, he never had to wonder if it felt good to you. It was there on your face, in your fathomless eyes. Your whole being vibrated with it, and you held nothing back.

“This got a name?”

You latched onto his broad shoulders and threw your head back as he reached deeper, curling his fingers in a tantalizing rhythm.

“Unicum tuum,” you managed to gasp out.

He caught your breast through the wet fabric and massaged, “What’s that mean, baby?”

“Yours.” You locked eyes with him, right before you came apart in his hands. “Only yours.”

[aressss1]

Gold and Emeralds Chapter 1

(Technoblade x Reader)

Read me on AO3!

| Next Chapter >

~~~~~~

The snow crunched under his feet. A blue hue shaded the world, as the sun was just starting to peak over the mountains. The winter wonderland around him silent as can be. Techno, as he bobbed and weaved through the thick spruce trees, was tracking down an elk. The tracks in the fresh snow being a great path for him to follow.

 He liked the hunt, even though he never wanted you to see his process of hunting. He was afraid of scaring you. He put his hybrid senses to use. He knew what he looked like during this process... His golden eyes would flood with an inky blackness, his irises turning silver, his body adapting to become the predator in a chase with its prey, and his vision and hearing heightened.

This was a day that he had been eager for, Valentines day. He had never celebrated the holiday, nor did he ever think he would, but this was the first year you and him would celebrate it together. All he wanted was your happiness. So, he asked Phil to take you on a trip for supplies, one that would take the both of you hours to do. Techno had everything in place, the only thing that he was lacking was the meat for the dinner he wanted to prepare for you. It was a recipe that Phil had given him, one that he himself had tried, and loved.

 He held his bow and arrow in his hands ready to fire. The tracks of the hunted animal coming to end. When the giant elk came into view, Techno notches his arrow and lets it fly.

 --

 You were tired, the backpack on your back weighed you down, making it harder for you to trudge through the snow. You had spent the whole day out with Phil, running errands, going mining, you wondered what Techno was up to the whole day. You looked at the lit-up house in the middle of the tundra. It seemed so peaceful in the setting sun.

 “I have some business in the village, I’ll be back a little bit later Y/N.” Phil gave you a half wave before he branched off toward the direction of the nearby village.

 “Don’t take too long Phil,” You called after him, a smile gracing your lips. Today had been fun, but you so dearly wanted to be with Techno. It was Valentines day today and while you figured he didn’t want to celebrate the holiday, just because he didn’t seem like the type to celebrate it, you wanted to have some alone time with him.

 Your feet landed on the wood of the first step on the porch. You kicked at the second step to knock the snow from your boots. Using the rail to gain balance you walk to your front door; you could smell something wonderful, cooking from the inside of the house. Letting a small smile show, your hand turned the knob of the front door, and you pull it open.

 There stood your pink haired man, a look of adoration crossing his features as soon as he saw you. In one fell swoop he wraps you up in his arms, pressing kisses to your forehead.

 “Happy Valentine’s day sweetheart.” His voice comes to you in a whisper, and your heart almost bursts right then and there. You wrap your arms around him, your hands grasping on to the back of his shirt. The hug last for a good few seconds and he sways with you in the hug. You pull away to look up at him.

 “I didn’t think Valentine’s day would be your thing.” You tease, and blush creeps up on his cheeks.

 “It wasn’t,” He admits, “But I didn’t have you before this year.” He presses his lips to your forehead. You let out a content hum, before you wrap your arms around his neck standing on your tip toes to press your lips to his. His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, you swear you could stay like this forever. When he pulls away, he cocks his head to you. “You want to see the other stuff I have planned for you, darlin’?”  You nodded and he took your hand he led you over to the fireplace. He had set up an area covered in blankets for the both of you to lie down next to the fireplace. He helps you get comfortable taking the backpack off you and throwing it haphazardly across the room.

 As he sat with you, he brought a long wrapped up box with him, he laid it on his lap, his eyes studying your features.

  “Before I have you open this, I have something to say…” He hesitated; a look of fear could briefly be seen in his eyes. “I will protect you with my every being. I know it’s not easy, being with me…” His words were starting to get shaky, but he composed himself almost immediately. Clearing his throat, he continues. “I would lay my life down for yours, in a heartbeat.” When you look down, he gently grabs your chin so you can look him in the eyes. “I… I want to spend the rest of my life with you. If you would have me?” You can see that look of fear in his eyes again. But it quickly vanishes as soon as you lean forward and kiss him.

 His hands bring you close to him, relishing your kisses, and after a few minutes he pulls away.

 “Darlin’,” He fiddles with the box still in his lap. “I know, being with me has its risks, and I can’t always be there to protect you.” He hands you the box, and you tear off the brown wrapping paper. When you remove the lid, you gasp. In the box was a sheathed sword, not just any sword… A netherite sword, with maxed out enchantments… Wrapped around the hilt was a golden chain with a ring attached to it. The ring itself was golden, but the gem that adorned it was an emerald. An emerald to match his and Phil’s emeralds. The thought made your heart soar. You just about tackled him in a hug.

 “I love you so much Techno.” You whispered feeling his chin rest on the top of your head. You didn’t know how long you sat there like that, him just rocking you back and forth in that position. Everything was right in the world. A loud groan from your stomach could be heard and he gave a little chuckle.

 “Come on let’s get you fed,” He pulls you up to your feet. Quickly taking the golden chain from the handle of the sword and he clasped the necklace around your neck. You found yourself fiddling with the ring on the chain when you had nothing else to do.

 The rest of the night was filled with, one of the best meals you’d ever had in your life, stories about his past, and a whole lot of passion.

[rocorambles]

A Skulk of Foxes

Pairing: Kita x Reader

Prompt: Fantasy

Genre: SFW, Fluff, Fox Shifter Kita, Fantasy AU, Shifter AU

Summary: You moved to the woods to start fresh, begin a new chapter in your life. Little do you know just how much your world is about to change because of a skulk of foxes.  

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s SFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this prompt. (Masterlist goes live Thursday, October 29th 11:00pm U.K. time!) 

You sigh with relief when you finally finish unpacking the last box of your possessions, stretching your aching muscles as excitement finally begins to bubble inside of you when you proudly look at your new home you’ve made for yourself. Reality is finally sinking in and your giddy with the feeling of a fresh start, a new beginning. The quaint little cabin is certainly different from the cramped modern apartment you had in the heart of Tokyo, but different is exactly what you need and you nestle into the cozy armchair by the window in your new living room, a cup of hot tea in your hands as you enjoy the silence of nature and the view of swaying branches. 

If anyone were to have told you that you’d willingly choose to live in the middle of the woods by yourself a few years ago, you would have laughed. You were a city girl through and through and the idea of not being surrounded by the noise of traffic and crowds of people was baffling. But after your long-term relationship had taken a nosedive into the ground and crash and burned, suddenly the city felt suffocating, filled with too many memories, too many mutual acquaintances and when you had seen this listing on your way back home from work one night, you had jumped at the opportunity to escape it all and start a new chapter. 

Your new way of life takes some adjusting to, but you don’t mind as you pull on your new hiking boots, eager to explore the acres of wooded lands you’re surrounded by. The air is crisp and fresh, and you inhale deeply, soaking in the peaceful quiet only interrupted by the crunching of dirt and grass under your feet. And that’s how your days idle by, you scoping out the area in the early mornings as the sun is rising with your trusty nature handbook you’d bought in one hand, a basket in the other hand as you look back and forth between the herbs and plants you see and the painted illustrations and tips in the book, returning with a bundle of freshly picked produce before signing onto your work computer and dutifully putting in your hours. It’s a tiring grind, but when you finally get to power down your laptop and sit outside under the bright night stars with a glass of wine in your hand, it doesn’t seem so bad after all. 

You get savvier and more adventurous, really leaning into country living as you begin to grow your own vegetables and fruit, set up a fire pit, plant flowers that you use to spruce up your living space. It’s a wonderful life, but there’s only one slight concern in the back of your mind.

The foxes. 

Growing up in the city, you’d never learned how to handle animals other than the rats and roaches the concrete jungle was infested with. Sure, you love your share of fluffy dogs and cats that you’d pet and play with, but there’s a big difference between domesticized pets and wild animals and you had noticed early on that your neck of the woods seemed to be rampant with foxes. You wonder if it’s just the fact that you’d never seen a fox in real life before, but you can’t help but think these foxes seem much larger than your usual fox, their fur and eye colors ranging far more than you thought was biologically possible. But even though they seem to like hovering around you and watching you intently from a distance, they never draw near and they leave your gardens alone, so you dismiss their presence, letting them do as they please as you go about your own business. 

The weather’s getting colder and you figure now is the time to test the fire pit you’d built. It takes a bit of fumbling around, but you beam with pride when you get a flame started, mesmerized by the flickering light and warmth beginning to billow. And although the wind has a bite to it, the radiating heat keeps you comfortable as you roast the chicken you had bought in town, mouth already watering as the smell of cooked meat begins to permeate throughout the air. But you’re startled when two furry bodies suddenly brush up against you and you stay perfectly still, unsure what to do when a gold fox leaps into your lap, curling into a fluffy ball as he stares at you while a silver fox calmly sits next to you, nudging your hand with his head in a silent order to pet him and you tentatively scratch behind his ears, staring in awe as he leans into your touch. 

For wild animals, they’re oddly well behaved and affectionate and you’re frankly stunned that they hadn’t just pounced at the raw meat and ran away with your dinner. But you’re not complaining and you continue petting them as your meal continues cooking, only stopping to their dismay when the chicken is ready to be cut up. Your heart breaks a bit when you see them staring expectantly at you and you swear they're both pouting as you make a move to bring the chicken inside the house, but their ears perk up when you leave your door open and beckon them inside and they’re quick to race towards you, rushing between your legs before making their way to your dining table and jumping up on the extra chairs you have set. It’s certainly an odd sight to see two large wild foxes easily make themselves at home, but you can’t help but fondly smile at them when you prepare three plates of food and they eagerly dig in. 

They’re surprisingly neat about eating and it’s almost eerie how they seem to purposefully keep the scraps and bones on their plate, almost human-like the way they grab your napkin, using it to wipe their mouths and paws. Maybe they used to be someone’s pets? But you don’t dwell on it, enjoying the company they provide as they curl up by your feet as you wash the dishes, as their feet pitter-patter after you as you do some errands around the cabin and you’re almost sad when they nudge you to the door, waiting for you to let them out before you go to sleep. 

You quickly realize there’s nothing to be sad about, not when you have a furry entourage that walks beside you whenever you’re outside, not when bodies are weaving in between your legs, almost threatening to trip you with how excited they are to play with you, not when heads are constantly butting against you, begging for pets. It seems like your two friends had spread the word and now you have a whole slew of friendly foxes wanting to get to know you better and you love every second of it, even building a little door for them to easily walk in and out of your cabin and it becomes a common occurrence for you to wake up to fluffy bodies curled around your body, for foxes to be perched on your dining room chairs at meal times, for you to have a lap full of needy foxes wanting your attention when all your bellies are full.  

But there’s one fox who keeps his distance from you and even though he’s not the largest of the bunch, even you can sense the quiet authority he has as the other foxes are quick to lower their heads submissively and run to him when he barks at them. Even the golden fox who you’ve come to pinpoint as the troublemaker of the group seems to quiet down a bit around him and one day when he’s being just a tad too rowdy with you, nipping you harder than usual as he excitedly pounces on you, he immediately whines and sinks his head into the crook of your neck in apology when the light gray leader harshly growls at him. You affectionately pet the sad gold pile in your arms and verbally assure the gray fox that you’re fine even though you’re sure that he can’t understand a word you’re saying, but to your surprise, as if he comprehends exactly what you’re trying to convey, the gray fox relaxes a bit and lies back down, going back to quietly watching his pack and you. 

The weather’s becoming frigid and you know it’s silly to worry about clearly healthy and strong wild animals who’ve fended for themselves their whole lives, but you can’t help the pang of concern you have for your furry friends as snow begins to creep in. However, in hindsight, maybe you should have been more concerned for yourself. It’s an especially brutal day and you really shouldn’t be outside at all, not with the wind whipping at neck breaking speeds and torrential amounts of snow pouring down, but like a true city idiot, you’d procrastinated about restocking your wood supply and now with nothing left to keep you warm, you have no choice but to venture out and collect as much as you can to at least keep a fire going on during the worst of the snow storm. 

You pride yourself on knowing the woods like the back of your hand now, but the pain of the wind whipping your face and the never ending white in your vision as the snow keeps on coming down makes it hard to concentrate, makes it hard to orient yourself and as the frost begins to get to you, making you shiver, making you lose all train of thoughts other than the fact that you’re literally freezing to death, you panic. You’re frozen stiff as you wildly circle around, trying to calm the swirling dark thoughts in your head as you try to make sense of where you are, but it’s no use. Everything looks the same now and you think you might be sick from the rocketing anxiety inside of you, but you’re pulled back to reality by a harsh tug at your coat sleeve and you almost sob in relief when you see a familiar light gray pelt tipped with black. 

Brown eyes look imploringly at you as he gives your sleeve another harsh tug and that’s all the encouragement you need to stumble after him, trusting him to bring you back to safety. Your legs are numb and there’s not a hint of grace in your steps and for a second, you’re afraid of falling behind, but your heart warms at the way he makes sure to never be more than an arm's length in front of you, always turning his head back to make sure you’re still right behind him, nipping insistently at you when you pause for too long. And even when you finally reach your cabin, he practically shoves you through your door with his whole body, almost ripping your clothes as he rapidly helps you remove your soaked through clothing. 

You’re shocked to see him still standing outside your bathroom door when you finally step out of the warm water, but still overwhelmed and exhausted by the day’s events, you only briefly acknowledge him as your body barely makes it to your bed before collapsing. And as your eyes shut and you slip under a heavy cloud of sleep, you swear you feel arms and hands rearranging you, carefully tucking you underneath your blankets, propping your head up on a pillow. You swear you hear a male voice scolding you for putting yourself in danger, telling you to rest. But too exhausted to open your heavy lids, you chalk it up to your imagination before completely drifting off. 

You’ll never be able to fully explain what happened as you finally wake up only to find that a fire has been started, a healthy supply of dry wood set up by it, your wet clothes hung up to dry, but unable to really remember much after you’d been guided back to your cabin, you think you must have just been working on auto-pilot before you passed out. (Never mind that you certainly don’t remember collecting that much wood.) But with no better explanation, you let it be, just glad to be safe and warm. And it seems like you’re not the only one happy to still see you alive and kicking as familiar visitors come by to check in on you and you have a strange suspicion that they’re worried about you, even the gold fox being more docile than usual as he cuddles with you. To your surprise, their leader also pays you a visit and you can’t help but feel chastised when you thank him for rescuing you, only to get a sharp nip and a growl in return and you swear he’s glowering at you. But it seems that all is forgiven when he shoves the gold fox out of your lap and regally takes his place, curling up and falling fast asleep on top of you. 

They never let you leave your cabin alone again that winter and it’s almost comical when they let out a series of howls as you climb into your car when you refuse to let even one of them ride with you. You wonder if an outsider would think you’re crazy as you speak to them, telling them you’d be right back after you pick up some much needed supplies and food from town that you can’t get by yourself in the woods. But eventually they quiet down and you chuckle when you see them all sitting outside your cabin through your rear car window, watching you leave, and you have a strong suspicion that they’ll be in the same exact position waiting for you when you return home. 

The town’s small, but everyone’s so friendly and helpful that you don’t mind waiting a tiny bit longer in line as the sole cashier takes care of everyone, enjoying the friendly chitter chatter and catching up on what’s been going on. The sheriff greets you and you smile at the handsome man. Daichi had been one of the first people to go out of his way to greet you. “It’s a sheriff’s duty to know everyone in town,” he had said, but you had a feeling that sheriff or not, he’d still be friendly enough to try and get to know the new person in town. Conversation is pleasant as both of you share what’s been going on in your lives, but your heart drops when he warns you to be careful of poachers in your area. His team is still trying to find and arrest them, but until then, he cautions you from wandering too far from home. He continues rambling on, but you’ve completely tuned him out, your mind only thinking of your new furry family and everything is a blur as you shakily pack your car trunk and race home. 

Relief floods through you when you see the foxes still lazing about and lounging in your yard, perking up at the sight and sound of your rapidly approaching vehicle. But their fur stands up and their tails rise in agitation at your distressed state as you usher them into the safety of your cabin and before you know it, you’re surrounded by multiple bodies whimpering and trying to jump on you to soothe you. You know it’s silly to talk to them and try to explain what’s going on, but with no other way to relay your feelings, you tell them what Daichi had told you, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes when you beg them to be careful, telling them they can use your house as a safe shelter whenever they need, and you don’t even realize that you’re almost completely sobbing until their light gray leader leaps into your lap and gently laps away your salty tears, nuzzling his face against your cheek as if he’s trying to comfort you. And whether or not that’s really what he was intending, you do feel better as you hug his large body close to you, burying your face into his soft fur. 

You feel lighter after that night, still a little wary and concerned for your newfound friends, but days pass and life seems normal. You don’t hear gunshots. You don’t see strange men roaming through the woods. Daichi and you keep in contact and although he tells you they still haven’t caught the perpetrators yet, slight hope rises in you and you wonder if they’ve moved on to a different area. But your hopes are instantly dashed when you’re abruptly woken by paws frantically clawing at you, loud distressed howls right in your ear and with your heart thumping out of your chest you stare with wide bleary eyes at the gold and silver foxes nudging you out of bed, one leading the way, the other repeatedly rushing you, his head pushing against the back of your legs. 

You have a bad feeling about what has them in such an uproar and you hate that your apprehension was warranted when you see their leader crying in pain, an ugly sharp metal contraption digging deeply into one of his front legs and suddenly you’re moving even faster than your furry companions as you lunge towards him, quickly, but carefully trying to assess the damage, trying to figure out how to untangle him from the horrid trap. You’ve just managed to pry open the trap enough for him to free himself and limp a bit aways when you hear the sounds of men's voices and approaching footsteps. And there’s nothing friendly about the way they’re shouting, nothing welcoming about the glint of their guns in the flashlight beams bouncing around, so before you can even strategically think about what you’re doing, you pick up the injured fox, careful not to jostle or touch his wound as you run as fast as your legs can move, not stopping even when your lungs are burning from exertion, even when you want to keel over from exhaustion, urged on and not allowed to slow down by the nips to your ankles the gold and silver foxes give you as they run alongside you. 

Gunshots are whizzing around you, but you have the knowledge of the terrain and expert guides on your side and the angry screams get quieter and farther away the longer you race forward before soon enough there’s only your labored breathing and the tiny cries of the fox you’re holding to your chest. But despite that, you don’t slow down, throwing your front door open as you slowly lay the gray fox on your bed, rushing to grab your first-aid box while simultaneously calling Daichi, putting him on speaker phone as you wash the bloody matted fur. You know you must sound frazzled, distracted as you fumble with words, trying to give him the best approximate location you can of where you’d lost the poachers while you tenderly pet the whimpering fox who’s hissing with every wipe you give to his bleeding injury, but you thank whoever’s listening that Daichi makes sense of your stuttered words and tells you he’s on his way to scan the area and for you to get some rest before hanging up and leaving you to give your sole attention to your patient. 

You whisper sweet encouraging words in a soft tone, apologizing and stroking his stomach everytime he winces as you continue cleaning his wound, but he stays perfectly still, not budging even an inch despite his discomfort and when you finally bandage him up, you smile as you see him finally slumping into your bedsheets, exhaustion finally catching up to him now that adrenaline isn’t amping him up and you can’t help the affectionate kiss you plant on his forehead as you tuck him into your bed, unaware of the way brown eyes stare at you in shock, unblinking as they process the intimate gesture you’d gifted him. And when you get ready for bed, shooing the other foxes out of your room to give your special guest some space and peace to fully relax, you’re still oblivious to the way a wet snout tentatively returns your gesture when you close your eyes, making light contact with your own forehead before curling his furry head underneath your chin and basking in your natural warmth. 

It’s warm when you wake up, which is welcome when it’s frigid outside of the safety of your blankets and you instinctively lean into the source expecting to feel the familiar plush fur of the foxes who come to share your bed sometimes. But your eyes shoot open when you feel warm skin underneath your fingertips and you have to fight back the scream when you come face to face with a man you don’t recognize who’s groggily opening his brown eyes, your body scrambling backwards. Tangled in the sheets, you don’t get far and fear lances through you as you stare wide-eyed at the stranger beside you who’s...panicking even more than you are? 

You pause in your escape attempt as you take a closer look at the man who’s frantically wrapping your blanket around his bare body, brown eyes staring at you in fear which is strange considering this is your room he’s intruding in. Common sense tells you to be wary and yet there’s something familiar about his eyes and when you finally take note of his light gray hair tipped with black and the bandage around his arm, disbelief runs through you as you tentatively approach his huddled form. 

“Are you- are you the fox I took care of?��

Brown eyes warily observe you as you draw near, but they widen in surprise when your hand gently runs through his hair and you give him the same sweet smile you’ve always given him when he was in his fox form. 

“You’re not scared of me?” 

You laugh. “If anything, I’m more surprised than anything else. Care to explain?”

And spurred on by the hope that the human he’s come to love might actually accept him for who he really is, he is quick to tell you everything and anything and you listen in amazement as he tells you about shifters, how him and his pack are all fox shifters, how there are different types of shifters all over the world, how they’re much more common than humans realize. He tells you his name, Kita, and the names of every fox shifter you’ve met. He tells you about the awful history of humans hunting them down to sell on the black market which has led them to live as foxes, deep in the woods, away from any living soul. He tells you about how you’re the first human his pack has interacted with for years, the first human to gain their trust after years of loneliness, never being able to access or connect with their human side. 

There’s a brief moment of silence as you take everything in, still softly carding your fingers through his hair. But the lingering question in your head finally slips out. 

“Why did you reveal yourself to me now?”

And your lips quirk at the shy flustered expression on his face as he buries deeper into your cozy blankets. 

“I was too exhausted to keep my fox form after everything that happened last night.”

But before you can tease him a bit more, there’s a knock on your door and you panic, unsure how to explain the unknown man in your cabin. However, it seems that you have nothing to worry about when you spin around, only to see Kita’s fox form nonchalantly curled up in your bed, looking at you with his own smug amusement at your gaping mouth. You rush to the door, Kita padding after you, a slight limp from his front leg and upon seeing the sheriff through your peephole, you greet him, giddy with relief when he tells you that they’ve managed to apprehend all the poachers thanks to your tip last night. 

It never crosses your mind how strange it was that Daichi so easily arrested all the men despite your extremely vague directions and despite it being pitch black, but unknown to you, it’s easier than you think to maneuver through the dense night woods when you have wings. However, Kita’s more perceptive than you and when he scents the air, he looks in interest at the man who smells like a crow and brown and black eyes lock for a second as a hint of acknowledgement runs through Daichi’s eyes when the shifter inside of him sees the fox for what he really is. But it’s only a fleeting glance, too quick for your human eyes to notice, and Daichi parts ways, subtly nodding to the fox who’s currently laying on your feet before waving goodbye to you, leaving Kita and you alone once again. Well, maybe not that alone, you think, as a group of familiar foxes come racing towards the both of you once Daichi is gone. 

Life is chaotic, in a good way, but chaotic nonetheless after that. It’s a new dynamic for all of you as you try to merge your two worlds and ways of life together. It no longer phases you when you see glimpses of naked men running here and there as they shift between their human and fox forms and you’ve learned to always have spare sets of clothing on hand to quickly throw their way when they do decide to take their human shape for a spin. Atsumu has finally stopped whining about not being allowed to sleep in your bed with you anymore after Kita had put him in his place and your face goes hot when you remember exactly what had transpired during that conversation. 

When you had found out they were shifters, you found yourself being a little more self-conscious and self-aware around them. It seemed unbecoming of a woman to be sharing the same bed or changing in front of foxes that turned into handsome men and soon Kita was the only one allowed in your bedroom. Atsumu had howled and complained the first night that Kita slipped into your bed next to you, demanding to also be let in, questioning why Kita was allowed to sleep with you, especially in his human form. And suddenly feeling like a parent who suddenly has to explain the birds and the bees to their child, you grow flustered, unsure how to broach the subject. But sensing your panic, a large hand gently grabbed your chin, turning you until you were facing the serious countenance that you’d come to love, and in front of the still wailing younger man, he had captured your lips in a searing kiss before pointedly looking at a suddenly silent Atsumu. 

“That’s why,” he had calmly said, but before he could even fully voice those two words, Atsumu had quickly retreated, closing the door behind him and leaving the two of you alone. 

The two of you had skirted around directly talking about what was going on between the two of you, but that kiss had officially sealed the deal and you both stay up late that night, talking about your future life together, as his mate, as your boyfriend and it seems like unsurprisingly, Atsumu has run his mouth off and the whole pack is there waiting to congratulate you two on finally getting together the next morning. 

And now here you are, living in a recently expanded cabin, loud and full of bodies, both furry and human. You take a sip of your coffee, rolling your eyes as you hear the twins bicker, a slight smile on your face when you see Aran and Suna in their fox forms, napping on the couch, the others sprawled out here and there as they cook and eat breakfast. But it’s the strong arms that wrap around your waist from behind, the mouth stealing a sip from your piping hot mug before burying his face in the crook of your neck and shoulder that makes your heart flutter and you turn to kiss Kita, melting into his hold as you both survey your new family, your new home.   

[whump-a-la-mode]

Would you continue the villain nausea whumpee? To show how he is after he is removed from the chair? Do they set him free since he won’t be violent anymore ?

I loved the idea of Villain being set free, and ran with it a bit! I hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for the ask!!

This is a continuation from here, and, once again, the story below is below a read-more to prevent any accidental viewing of content that could trigger emetophobia very badly. I would hate for anyone to see it as they scroll past.

However, this time, the first scene is shown, as it contains no potentially triggering content.

CW//Emetophobia, graphic description of vomit, self-hatred, medical malpractice, low self esteem, hatred of former friends, Stockholm syndrome, whumpee liking whumper, minor eye whump mention, nausea

The auditorium crackled with the feedback of a thousand microphones, shoved towards the stage, frequencies battling and screeching against one another in chaotic choir. From a mass of bodies, of cameras and clattering boom mics, the wire spheres emerged in their dozens, all pointed centrally.

All pointed at the stage, and the podium that lived upon it, glistening in freshly-polished hardwood and media attention.

Behind the platform stood a figure, as equally basking in fame, and equally as glimmering. Upon their face, perfect white teeth glowed as freshly-fallen snow, pressed together in a wide grin.

In Hero’s eyes, it was pride that shone. The pride that came with accomplishment, with recognition, with glory, with perfect hair and thousand-dollar suits and the attention of the world, all upon their face. Their words.

“Thank you, everyone, for being here.” With a greeting alone, the world tucked back in hushed quiet. “Now, we will have plenty of time for questions later, but I wanted to start off with what has surely found itself on every headline this morning.”

A pause. The expected clamor erupted from the horde of media, incoherent shouting and stomping. A rioting crowd.

“Now, now.” It was a practiced ritual, between lion and tamer. “I will be taking all of your questions at the end, but let an old guy speak a little, first.”

Laughter queued.

“Well, then. I’m sure you’ve all seen the headlines-- you guys especially, you wrote them! But, for everyone at home, yes, the rumors are true. A villain is now loose in the city.”

A practiced gasp.

“And it’s a good thing! You see, for years, now, our in-house villainous psychology research has been working on a technique that they have dubbed Reaction-Based Morality Rehabilitation. Now, I’ll let you in on a little secret.”

The hero leaned forward, hand cupping the microphone, playful smile clear upon their face.

“They gave me this paper, and it was like, 100 pages long. And I didn’t know half the words in it.” They backed up, smile remaining. “But, trust me when I say, those guys in R&D? They’re amazing. They know exactly what they’re doing, even if I don’t.

But, I won’t leave you hanging. I do understand the just of the procedure, even if I’m not so sure on the jargon.

It’s a very simple solution to a very complicated problem. I am a firm believer in the fact that people are not born as villains. We are all born as heroes. Some of us, through unfortunate means, however, turn rotten. Through this technique, however, me and Organization believe to have found a way to separate the villain from the person inside.

By using innovative methods of therapy, our psychologists are able to help villains reject their evil ways, all the way at the center of their neurology! We have heard many concerns about the possibility of relapses, of a villain turning sides upon their release. Yet, with this technique, changing sides is not a conscious choice. It is as much a thought process as it is a carefully embedded instinct.

Of course.” They straightened momentarily. “That does not mean we are simply allowing once of those who have harmed you return to our beautiful city unsupervised. We ensure you, multiple surveillance methods have been put in place. This is only a trial run.

We at Organization wish to think each and every one for your cooperation and participating in the beta test of this revolutionary new technique. If this run receives positive results, you can all think of villainy as a thing of the past!”

From the crowd emerged a cheer. A cheer for glory, for fame, for progress!

For the destruction of a foe.

For unquestioned success. A villain defeated!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Villain’s fingers brushed over the top of the kitchen’s oak-stained counter, kicking up enough dust to suffocate, even as their tightly pursed lips protected them from such.

This was a house.

Their fatigued, half-haunted gaze turned to move over the surrounding interior. The kitchen was fully-featured, oak accented with shimmering, mottled granite. Not that anyone had bothered to clean in the place. Beyond the room and its attached dining area, a step lower, a carpeted area was positioned, furnished in felt couches and a television.

But this was not a home.

With a scratching nail to their neck, the villain moved forward numbly, to the base of the stairs and up them. Beneath their skin, the tracking chip was an awful feeling. Buried just deep beneath that it could not be seen, yet shallow to the point that its presence was unyielding and unignorable. A constant itch, embedded between twitching folds of muscle.

Maybe they could take it out. Maybe with the right kitchen utensil-

Halfway up the stairs, they dropped, keeled over themself with sickly pea soup filling in the space behind their eyes. In an instant, their mind retreated desperately from the thought, or any semblance of it, even as their stomach heaved with the residual ghost of it.

The tracking chip was fine and they didn’t care about it and they wanted it to stay there forever because it wasn’t coming out.

Legs now taking on an appearance that ever so slightly more resembled gelatin, the villain leaned upon the railing, ascending with a considerable additional difficulty up the stairs. In the very brief tour they had been given, their bedroom had been identified as the dark spruce door at the hall’s end.

Moving to it was a struggle on its own, insides still twitching and squelching with the remnants of acute nausea. Yet, their agony was only internal. They made it, and, all the way, kept their mind empty. Thoughts clear.

Not thinking of anything that could make them fall.

The bedroom was a bedroom. A dust-coated vanity. A small attached restroom. A nightstand. A bed.

At the very least, the quilts had some color to them.

Struggling in an attempt not to clutch their own stomach-- an action that they had learned, time and time again, only made the organ flip-- Villain shuffled to the piece of furniture that had been designed for use when they slept. Dust coughed from beneath the covers as they lifted them, crawling under.

Laying down helped, at least in some slight way that may or may not have been a placebo. It meant they could close their eyes. Make unwise thoughts that much less likely to happen.

For a moment, Villain succeeded in blackness. A blank mind. A world unmarred by the horrible jolts within their brain, the firings of neurons, the innate jostling of their frontal cortex.

Yet, it only lasted a moment.

With a jerk, they curled to a fetal position, legs bent and tucked beneath arms. Their body struggled as though weeping, though they had long ago learned not to cry. It was terribly difficult to produce tears, after all, when the metal drew their eyes to unbroken wakefulness.

This was a nightmare. They were certain of it.

That had been their first thought, of course, when the news of their liberation had been shared with them-- after it had been shared with the wider public. Things did not reach their cell very quickly. They had believed it to be a dream, for there was no other possible explanation.

Villains did not deserve freedom. They knew that. Violent little scumbags.

When they had been driven to the house, that was when the orinique connotations in their mind had flipped-- when dream turned to nightmare.

It was their home. Such had been stated clearly, so many times. Upon a thousand channels of media syndication. They had been given the keys, had stared at them for an agonizing moment. Watched them dangle between their fingers.

Hero had practically had to shove them through the doors, and even so, their attempts at escape ceased only after the fourth time they had been reprimanded for them.

Somewhere, something mechanical twitched. Moved. Buzzed. One of the cameras. They knew they were here, obvious, blocky, black eyes. At the very least, they provided some semblance of comfort.

Of home.

Of safety.

Oh, how desperately Villain wanted to go home. Everything had made so much sense there! Was so fantastically, wonderfully simple! If they were placed in their cell, they stayed in their cell. If offered food, they ate. When seated in their chair, they watched.

It was so easy. So invariable. Strict and stringently controlled, as the life of any vile beast who called themself a villain should be. Not a chance they could make a mistake, that they could do anything wrong. Only the slightest opportunities for their mind to slip, their thoughts to wander, to go somewhere bad.

Somewhere that would send them to their hands and knees, heaving and retching.

Food came often, with how difficult it was to keep it down. They’d counted once. Certainly the chefs must have become tired after preparing thirteens meals in a single day. Yet, in the end, they had only managed to fully digest one.

Especially since that was only the day on which they had counted-- it certainly wasn’t notable.

Now, there were no chefs. No cells. No chairs. No screens to watch. Order was gone, and chaos reigned.

Terrible, bloody chaos.

The house was far too large. So many times, Villain had begged for a schedule. For orders. For what they were meant to do-- when to get up, when to go to sleep, what to do inbetween.

Yet, the answers always came the same: A shrug, and four terrible words. “Whatever you want to.”

That which they wanted was not that which should be carried out! They were a villain! A terrible, retched thing! A monster! A devil! Their thoughts deserved no attention, their wants deserved only the click of the IV.

The sickness.

Somehow, despite the inherent maleficence that it most certainly carried with it, an idea manged to work its way through the folds of their brain. A thought. A plan.

A good one. One that did not incite their stomach to heaving.

Certainly, if they laid here, in this bed, then their freedom could not lead to the harm of anyone else. The world would remain safe, regardless of their liberty. And, when the cameras at last noticed, the heroes would be forced to return. To bring them back to the cell and the chair. To return them to where they belonged.

It was perfect-- though that wasn’t to say that anything they created could possibly be good.

Thus, they put the plan into action. Beneath the chains that were covers, upon the chair that was a bed, Villain waited.

Their plan worked for perhaps an hour.

An hour. Then the door was kicked in. This time, that which seized their chest had nothing to do with nausea, nothing to do with conditioning. Everything to do with terror.

Even their wildest dreams, their most optimistic ambitions, did not expect that the heroes would have come so soon. If they had, they would have knocked.

They curled tighter into their fetal position, fingers gripping skin until both turned white. Desperation and willpower, even together, could not stop their mind from tracking the noises as they moved through the house. Through the kitchen. The living room. Up the stairs. To the hallway outside.

Certainly, they would have noticed the lack of dust on the bedroom’s doorknob.

Perhaps it was a member of the public, come to take their righteous revenge. Such would certainly be deserved. Or, perhaps, a wayward hero, disliking the arrangement that had been made. Having decided to take the matter to their own hands. They deserved that, as well.

But, when the voice came, Villain knew that their hopes were as far as could be from the truth.

“Villain?”

Blank mind. Don’t think. Blank mind. Don’t think. Blank mind don’t think.

Beneath the blanket, they twitched.

“Oh, thank goodness.” Footsteps dashed to the bedside. Hands upon them. There was such a wholehearted relief to the voice, an unimaginable burden relieved.

Yet, such was impossible, as villains did not have hearts.

“We were so worried, so, so worried. You have no idea! Come on, come on.”

A hand, to the top of the blanket.

“There’s about a thousand cameras in here, buddy, so we need to get going. Everyone at base has been so nervous, all day. Ever since we heard... My car’s just outside, we need to go, quick.”

Villain’s only solace was torn away.

“Buddy? What’s wrong?” The voice was practically a whisper. “It’s me. It’s-

Supervillain.”

A blank mind, filled with thoughts.

The initial strike of nausea was enough to make them wail, even as they had no ability to. They hardly remembered getting to their hands and knees, hardly remembered as they began to heave. No. They registered only the horrid, green-and-brown mess that exploded upon the pale white bedspread.

Again, again, a thousand exhausting times, the heaving struck them, until chunky vomit was spilling off the side of the bed, ruining the antique carpeting. It only ceased to spill when their insides were well and truly empty.

That was when they were picked up.

It was a caring, warm hold, tucking them close to the chest of a vile demon. Yet, they had not the slightest ounce of energy to resist. Any muscles not exhausted by fatigue went back to work, heaving and coughing, even as nothing more emerged.

“I’m sorry.” With a broken voice, Supervillain spoke. “I’m so, so sorry. Let’s go back to base, okay? Everything’s going to be okay, I promise, I promise, buddy.”

No.

With evil like this in the world, nothing was even going to be okay again.

[dancingazaleas]

𖨆. 02 / all for us

summary: you’ve finally decided it was time to eat and bathe, but now that you aren’t worried about starving to death, you’re getting homesick. maybe a cup of tea and a movie is the best.

note: i, now, have a taglist for this series especially!! here’s the taglist form!! it will also be posted on the series masterlist!! much love <33

word count: +3.0k

warnings/notes: starvation, manipulation, abuse, slight panic attack, thoughts of suicide

IT'S been five days since you've had anything to eat.

your body is so weak from the lack of nutrients that you can't stand up on your own. your head is constantly aching from lack of food and you keep getting dizzy.

you feel like you're on the brink of death now, you can't even get out of bed to get yourself water out of your sink, shortening your life span if you keep this up. you feel yourself crying as you roll your body off of the bed and onto the floor.

hissing in pain, you dig your nails into the spruce hardwood floor.

"you are not weak for this. you're surviving," you whisper to yourself as you push yourself forwards with your arms.

it's so painful with the bruises. they rub up against your clothing, already irritating them a bit more than before, and now it's having pressure added onto it. your tears are blocking your sight, but you push on anyways. the door has never felt so far away.

you almost perk up when your nails scratch at the door. with weak fists, you bang at the door and call for one of the men that has captured you. your tears are dripping on the ground below you, forming a small puddle as they all bunch together.

"please," you croak, "please..."

the door is being unlocked and you feel as if all of your strength has been used at that moment. you lay still as your breath falters from your sobbing.

the door bumps against your head, shooting a sharp pain through your head. you can't find strength to care about it.

"so you're finally ready to listen. you look pathetic," you don't have to look up to tell it's levi speaking to you.

he calls out to erwin, telling him to fix you small and easy meal and to get you new clothes. he squats down and takes you into his arms bridal style.

if you weren't crying and letting out weak sobs, he would think your dead. you're so limp in his arms and your eyes are empty and droopy as they stare right through him. and it creeps him out.

he takes you into a bathroom with a tub, setting you gently on the toilet. he doesn't bother locking the door behind him, you're too weak to run away right now. levi's preparing you a bath, walking back and forth as he gets towels and soaps and checking the water.

you hiccup as you watch levi starting to remove that collar and chains around your neck, and you feel like a weight has been lifted off of your chest, literally. he's undressing you, obviously trying to avert his cold eyes away from your body. you're gently laid in the bath, head resting against the rim.

levi's quiet as he pours a warm cup of water over your hair and face, squatting down to reach your level.

"stupid," he scoffs as he lathers up shampoo in his hands. he washes your hair gently.

"this isn't mine and erwin's fault," he shakes his head while he pours water over your head, "it's your fault. you refused our care."

you don't argue back, too tired to even think of a comeback. you also don't feel like getting beat any more than you already are. your eyelids are getting heavy, immediately shutting them as soon as you feel the pressure on them.

levi stares, mouth slightly parted as you breathe in and out through your nose. your cheek was sprinkled in the color crimson, his own handiwork made him cringe. he just sighs, now brushing through your locks of hair with conditioner coated on his hands.

he rinses his hands off, letting the conditioner stay there just for a few seconds so it can soak in. his eyes trail down your body, stopping at your bruised breast. he didn't even realize he hit you there.

he shrugs it off and gathers water into the small cup in his hand, pouring it over your head. he expects you to jump up at the water over your head but all you do is mumble. he wants to wash your body, specifically your underarms, but with you half asleep and barely able to stand on your own without him holding onto you, he can't.

he clicks his tongue and pulls out the cover up blocking the drain. he grabs you by the arm, ignoring the whimper of pain that you let out, and pulls you up onto your wobbling feet. he helps you step out of the tub and wraps a fluffy pink towel around your shoulders, carefully sitting you onto the toilet again.

the bath water is a little murky and levi cringes at it because he knows it'll leave a ring around the tub. he'll clean it up later.

erwin's opening the door, a pile of clothes in his large hands.

"she's all tuckered out," he chuckles, handing off the clothes to levi.

"yeah. don't know how, she's barely done anything. must be the hunger or something," levi shrugs and watches the folded clothing come undone as he holds the hemline between his fingers.

"maybe we were too harsh on her."

"no, we weren't. we can't trust her. believe it or not, but forks can hurt whenever you put force into them when you stab someone. she could've hurt one of us or herself," he folds the clothes over his arm and holds out a hand.

erwin hands him underwear, "i suppose you're right."

"i'm always right," levi carefully puts on your underwear for you.

erwin rolls his eyes at levi's comment, "make sure to dry her hair."

"i know what i'm doing," he snaps, "go put her food in her room."

erwin complies, swinging the door shut behind him as he goes to fetch your food.

you've barely processed their conversation, too focused on levi's hands putting you in a satin light grey nightgown that ends just below your knees. the bishop sleeves keep your arms warm and cold at the same time, in fact, the whole material of the dress does as well. the neckline is a v-neck, not that you mind too much because of the risk you might get too hot.

"do i...," you manage to mumble, "do i have to wear this to sleep...?"

"yeah, unless you feel like sleeping in just underwear. i don't think you want that though," he scoffs as he towels off your damp hair.

you don't reply, far too tired to even say a 'whatever' to him. you let your forehead come into contact with his hip, taking in the cold temperature radiating off of his body. you want to nuzzle into his hip, but thankfully you have enough will to not do so. it reminds you of your friend, pieck, and her cat like tendencies. the memory has you letting out a pained laugh.

levi can feel his face getting warmer at every movement you make with your head, but he manages to play it off because of the towel blocking your view. he throws the towel into the basket by the tub, hand silently stroking at the back of your head in comfort.

it doesn't give you comfort. but you don't let it show.

levi's grabbing a hair brush, a clean and new one, and running it through your (hair type) locks. there are far too many tangles from the lack of care you've been giving your hair, but not enough to make a knot.

levi then pulls out a block of deodorant from the cabinet below the sink. it's unused and you can smell the scent of flowers on it as he brings it closer. his hands slide up your dress with caution, trying to avoid coming into contact with your bruised body.

he manages to put on the deodorant easily. he picks you back up with a grunt, eyebrows furrowing at your pained expression. he's placing you back onto your bed in just a matter of seconds, throwing the covers over your legs.

erwin's sitting at the edge of your bed, holding a fork with food already on it. your eyes are droopy while you look at erwin.

you don't eat a lot, they're in fear that you might throw everything up if fed too fast. you don't blame them, you haven't eaten in five miserable days. it's best to be cautious.

"scooby...," you manage to whisper out, eyes fluttering shut.

"she wants to watch scooby doo even though she's already asleep," levi huffs with the shaking of his head, grabbing the tray from erwin's hands.

erwin follows after levi, closing the door behind the both of them and locking it.

"she seems to be getting adjusted," erwin notes while standing behind levi and watching him wash the dishes.

"only because she was on the brink of death. let's just hope she learned from it," levi's aggressively scrubbing the plate with a sponge.

————

you lay in your bed a few days later, the feeling of homesickness is eating you up inside. did no one care? did anyone even notice you vanished? where was everyone? what were they doing?

you think of zeke. the man you were sort of dating, it's complicated. well, it was. now, it's just nonexistent.

zeke was out of the country for a bit, something to do with work. he left you with a kiss on the forehead and a hug. you wonder if he's texted you.

you think of pieck. oh my god, she's had to have noticed by now. she's your best friend, she lives with you. but the memory of the two of you fighting right before you were kidnapped comes flooding back, and you deflate. if you weren't in the house then pieck would probably think it was normal.

what about porco? reiner? your guys friends who act like guard dogs towards you. where were they? did they notice? surely they had to, you never not text them back.

bertholdt? your close friend that you also worked with him. he was a music prodigy and he texted you almost everyday. did he notice?

you're breathing erratically as you sit up and clutch your hands over your ringing ears. where were they? where even was your phone?

you're gonna get killed before you can tell any of them that you love them. the thought has you crying and tugging at your hair. you were so mean to pieck before you were kidnapped. you hadn't talked to zeke since the day of your kidnapping, who probably wasn't worried because he was busy with work.

when will you see them again? will you ever even get to see them again?

'maybe after death,' you think, eyes darting up to the mirror on your vanity.

you slap yourself upside the head, slapping away the thought. you struggle to get onto your feet, but when you do, you're banging at the door for levi and erwin again.

you have to know if they're okay, to know if they know you're gone. you step away from the door at the sound of keys jingling and their footsteps.

"what are you freaking out about now," levi's being followed by erwin.

"my friends... did.. did you tell them i was okay," with a boost of confidence, your gripping at levi's biceps.

"get your filthy hands off of me," he smacks them away.

"yes, we did tell them you were going away. we said you decided on a vacation," erwin speaks and watches your eyes dart back to the mirror.

"fuck," you whisper to yourself. everyone would believe you'd go on vacation, you had been stressed with your job for the past month.

"levi's gonna make you some tea and then we can all chat, we were about to do so anyways," erwin's hand rubs at your back as he pulls you close to him.

levi leaves the room, following the orders of erwin. erwin, on the other hand, is cooing at you.

"no one's going to miss you," he whispers in a sweet tone and it gives you goosebumps, "no one at all."

you know it's not true. it can't be true. zeke would miss you. reiner would miss you, pieck, porco, bertholdt. they'd all miss you.... right?

"we're the only ones who care, no one else cares," his grip tightens.

"want to know what that girl said," you hear the arrogance in his voice, and you can't do anything to stop it since he's buried your face in his chest.

"she said she was glad you were on vacation. she said that it was good that she didn't have to see you," yoy hiccup against his chest, pieck couldn't have said that, right?

he pulls away finally, satisfied at your expressionless face—if you overlook the tears. you can't give in, pieck would never say that. never in a million years would she say that, even if she hated your guts.

right?

levi comes back in, hands holding a tray that has teacups and a pot of tea on it. levi goes to the area with three chairs, setting the tray onto the coffee table and sitting himself down in one. erwin follows behind him, leaving the chair in between them open for you to sit.

they stare at you expectedly, it makes you uncomfortable so you decide to just deal with it and sit with them.

"what tea is this," erwin asks while levi pours everyone a cup.

"earl grey, what else do we have," levi hands a cup to erwin and then to you.

you hold it by the handle, silently admiring the cup's delicate and intricate design. you try to ignore the voice in the back of your head to break it on the ground and slash your neck open. you want to drink it too, it smells absolutely perfect, but if you hold it any longer you might just listen to that voice.

you set it back down, left hand immediately grabbing at your right wrist. you didn't trust yourself to make a move on your own, if you did you fear it might end up with a shard of glass at your throat.

erwin's ice eyes stare at your wrist and hand, taking in how your knuckles were white and the skin on your arm was reddening.

"just say if you want handcuffs," erwin sips at his tea and looks away.

"what," you flinch at his voice interrupting the quiet that was once there.

his comment has you looking at your hands, which you let go of at the sight of the irritation.

"sorry," you shrug and lean back in your chair.

"good. can't have you hurting your hands," levi comments, eyes staring outside of the bay window.

"speaking of that," you sigh, "why do you always leave my hands alone. you've shown no mercy to my arms, so why my hands?"

"when you're good enough, you'll be allowed to play the piano," erwin crosses a leg over the other, ankle resting on his knee.

"play? for who? there's no one in this empty house but us," you scoff and cross your arms.

"me. and there's more people here than you think," levi's giving you a small smirk, "you're just separated from them."

"it's hard to believe that you have friends, levi," you mumble loud enough for them to hear. your comment has erwin chuckling and levi rolling his eyes.

"i have friends, believe it or not. watch your attitude," he's putting his tea back onto the tray.

"i don't have an attitude," you sound like a child arguing with their parent.

erwin butts in the conversation before levi can get mad, "anyways, we will allow you to play if we think you've been good enough. levi likes the piano, remember?"

you bite down on your tongue to stop the words 'no but i remember getting kidnapped!!' from coming out of your mouth.

"when can i leave this room, it's too stuffy in here?"

"did you not just listen to erwin? he said when we feel you've been good enough. you've got to start by loosing the attitude," levi snaps his fingers irritatedly.

"how am i supposed to act?!"

"obedient," erwin's now standing over your chair, hands gripping the arms as he leans over you.

"like a dog," you look to levi at the sound of his voice, you try to make yourself smaller.

"you have on a chain and collar for a reason, don't you," erwin smiles gently, hand taking ahold of the chains while he stands up straight.

you choke when erwin tugs the chains towards himself, head knocking right against his stomach while the chains swing in the air and curl around his arm. his other arm swiftly grabs at jaw and forces you to look up at him with your chin pressed to his body.

erwin feels himself harden at the sight, your eyes are widened and your mouth his agape and panting because of the sudden cut off of air.

"just like that," he strokes his thumb along your jaw while you wonder what's caused a sudden change in him these past few days; he used to be so gentle. oh right, kidnapping.

his words have you turning hot, embarrassment hugging you from behind. it wasn't like you easily complied, you were forced to do so. you're also embarrassed because you can feel his hard-on against your sternum, and while you haven't thought about it before, you realize that erwin is fucking hung. you hope that you're not too good for them.

you're saying prayers in your head whenever levi speaks up, "i thought we came in here to watch a movie or something."

erwin lets you go, chains dropping from his arm as he does so. you sigh in relief as erwin grabs the remote from your bed and turns the tv on. you huff while you flop onto your bed and crawl up under your covers, knowing that you'll probably just fall asleep as you watch the movie.

unfortunately, this gives off the impression that you would like to be cuddled. levi's sliding under the covers with you, chest pressing against your back with arms wrapped around your waist. erwin follows soon after, inserting himself in your arms as he scrolls through the different movies at his disposal on the television. you're slightly frustrated at all of the physical contact, but you know that if you reject their advances it'll end up bad for you.

"put on heather's, please," you ask, which erwin obliges to.

as the movie goes on, you hope that they get the message.

you'll be veronica, and they'll be jd.

[voreboy]

Convergence: The Gathering (Part 1) [PROLOGUE ONLY]

Something I’ll be working on through the weekend and throughout next week...

Convergence: The Gathering (Part 1)

PROLOGUE 

Just past midnight, Vien stood outside the terminal at Baton Rouge Metropolitan Airport as his companion slid into the rideshare black luxury sedan that pulled up to the curb; Vien followed suit once his fellow rider was inside. Phone already in hand, he activated the camera and after switching the view to selfie mode, hit record.

“What is up my peoples!? Vien here, founder of the relatively obscure but surprisingly popular app knows as GutBros—THE premier photo and video sharing social media platform that sprang up from the internet phenomenon of relatively muscular or slim men, such as myself, taking ridiculous pictures of themselves with bellies that are distended for a varieties of reasons: food baby/gorging, liquid bloating, air inflation or something else other than permanent body fat, as you all well know. And while the site has since evolved into a fat admiration site in general, bloating and belly inflation is still the number one feature and I, having a unique talent in this arena, am still the app's most followed account! What a surprise right? The wealthy heir-slash-entrepreneur with the body of a god having the largest following on his own social media network—WHO'DA THUNK? 

That being said, there are not ONE but TWO popular contenders for ‘most followed’ on the platform literally just shy of a few THOUSAND followers to match or overtake my top spot. AND ONE OF THEM IS IN THE FUCKING CAR WITH ME!” Vien exclaimed, panning the view from his phone to the other side of the backseat where T-Bone sat. A handheld gaming device in his hand and wireless earbuds funneling sound into his ears, he gave a quick nod in the direction of the camera and flashed a heavy metal hand gesture. 

“ITS FUCKING T-BONE. MY MAN. THE MAN. HE WHO BRINGS DA BEEF!” Vien continued. “He met me here at Baton Rouge Metropolitan airport—he flew here from LA, I flew here from New York—and we are BOTH on our way to meet up with contender number three: EVAN DANIELS, better known as ‘THE BELLY OF THE BAOYU’ for a special weekend retreat. There'll be lots of stuffing, bloating, drinking, belching and reckless behavior! Soooo, be sure to check out feeds next week for all the epic aftermath. This will be a CONVERGENCE! THE GATHERING… OF THE GUT BROS.” 

After some last minute cleaning in his small cottage, Evan did a final sweep of the living room and set a stack of blankets and pillows on either end of his sectional sofa. He then removed his cell phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and switched to selfie mode and hit record.

“Hey y’all. Evan here! ‘THE BELLEH OF THE BAYOU’ as I like to call mahself. As you can see, I got mah lil bachelor pad spruced up for a few VERY special visitors. T-Bone, as well as the founder of GutBros, VIEN HIMSELF, are coming to stay for a spell. Now, I got all the love in the world for Vien, that’s mah boy and I’m glad we’ll be able to meet in person after all these months but I’m over the FUCKING MOON I’ll be able to see T-Bone… again… because as it turn’s out… HE’S MAH SECOND COUSIN Y’ALL! T was born and raised right here in Baton Rouge just like me before he and his folks up and high-talied it to Los Angeles. Not to get too deep but… he and I are sorta the black sheep of the family; disowned and disinherited and whatnot. So, it’ll be cool to have a blood bond with someone again. There’ll be a lot of gluttony and debauchery and overall foolishness so be sure to check the feed for updates! LOVE Y’ALL!” 

... STAY TUNED (and feel free to send anons!)

deviantART | RP Guide (24+ ONLY/STR8 Guys Welcome) | Ageplay Guide | Vore Multiverse Guide | Send Me Anons (But State Your Age)

[yuzukult]

effortlessly (m) || jungkook & reader

title: effortlessly  pairing: jungkook x reader genre: fluff, romance, school!au, smut (poorly written, don’t come @ me) words: 4.5k warnings: this chapter contains smut. a/n: i wrote this on wattpad like months ago (unfinished) but i was kinda sad bc you can see the view count so i decided to finish it here and spruce it up since tumblr lessens my insecurities lol also, i decided to make this my first series (a five part(?)) series!!! note: jungkook & reader are 18+, seniors in high school. series: part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || part nine || part ten || epilogue 

"Alright, pick your partners!" Your P.E. teacher exclaims, clapping her hands to quicken the students' pace to get started. Jungkook beams at you with a smile before giving you a nudge into your arm. "Let's be partners, it'll be more fun this way!"

"Okay, okay," You unwilling agree, crouching down before falling on your bottom. You bend down and motion Jungkook to hold down your feet so you can start doing the sit-ups. Leaning over, he sits on his knees then wraps his soft, gentle hands around your ankles. "Go."

Oddly enough, this wasn’t the first time when you began to notice things about Jungkook that made him seem... more and more like a man. It was so strange – he'd been your childhood friend, so in your eyes, he was still that innocent little boy who played house and leap frog with you outside in the backyard. His shirt was snug around his arms that were flexed from holding down your ankles, hair ruffled from the wind blowing, and his jawline was especially sharp in comparison to the roundness his head was in his younger years.

You gulp. Hands crossed over your chest, touching your shoulders, you move your upper body up and down continuously, trying to avoid his gaze. "Why are you looking away, weirdo?" He chuckles, head tilting in confusion. "Uh, no reason."

"You're not afraid that you might accidentally kiss me, are you? Like we're in some k-drama?" Jungkook raises a brow, stopping you in the midst of a set. "What?" Your head shoots to his direction.

"Come on, we've kissed before, this is nothing."

"How about we be each other's first kiss." Jungkook suggests, tapping his toes on the floor anxiously. You were both in your early teen years, sitting on his bed side by side as you've always done, discussing about how your classmates were starting to get their first kisses and you personally were afraid of not being able to get one soon enough. "I mean, you mentioned that you were scared, right? You said it yourself that you don't think you’d get the opportunity any time soon. I can give you mine, and you can give me yours. It'll be perfect." You bite your bottom lip, feeling something churn deep in your stomach when he turns to look at you. "Are you okay with that?"

"I'm okay with that." Jungkook cups your cheeks with both his hands, and you felt your ears turning hot. Closing your eyes, you feel him scooting closer when his heavy breathing hits your face. Pursing up your lips, you feel his lightly meet with yours before he pulls away with the cheekiest grin.

"What—stop saying stuff like that in public. People will stare." Glaring at him, you wrinkle your brows in slight annoyance. "I'm not in the mood to get attacked by some crazy fangirls around here."

"Hey you! Why are you stopping? Chop chop!" The teacher proclaims toward you, and fearfully, you quicken your pace in compliance.

"Crazy fangirls?"

You move hastily as your form starts to mess up before you stop then stand, ignoring his response. "Your turn." Jungkook switches positions with you without argument, except you sit horizontally from him and on his feet. "You didn't answer my question. What do you mean by crazy girls?"

"I don't know? You're like a pretty boy kdrama lead type of guy. The girls here think they're the leads, and you're their romantic interest." He slows down his sit-ups and observes your expression. "Kdrama-lead? Pretty boy? What are you saying?"

"Think about it. How many girls have confessed to you in the span of a week? You're telling me that you don't notice these things?"

One of Jungkook's friends, Hoseok, jumps on his back eagerly to gain his attention then messes up his hair. "Come on, little guy, let's grab some lunch!" He grins from cheek to cheek, tugging him along with the rest of their group. "Oh, um, Jungkook," a soft voice speaks; Jungkook and his friends freeze, directing their attention to the girl standing before them. "Yes?"

Her hands were full of gifts – a bag with treats and a flower inside, a small carton of chocolate milk, and a letter stamped with hearts and doodles all over it. "This is for you," She says with her head down and arms extended to give him her confessions. "Aw, sweet! What's the occasion?"

"Oh—I—"

"Come on guys, I'm starving!" Someone shouts from the back, pushing Hoseok and Jungkook to move forward as the latter waves goodbye to the girl with a smile on his face while he grabs the items from her hands. "Thanks for the gifts!"

"Hah, there's no way," Jungkook retorts, sitting up from the workout before clicking his tongue in attempts to retrieve the memory of the girl's confession. "Okay, but what about the other girl from Tuesday?"

"Tuesday?" He looks at you questioningly. "What about Tuesday? There was a girl?"

"You don't remember?" You slide yourself off of his feet, and settle yourself on the dirt across from him. "That girl, the one who recently dyed her hair blonde. She bought you breakfast and gave you that little note in the bag. Did you even read that note? Did you even read the other girl's note?"

Jungkook looks up, trying to recall back to the moment. "I really don't remember seeing any of this. There was a note?"

"Ah, so you didn't read any of the notes. They were all confession letters."

"Confession letters? People still do that?" He lets out a chuckle before getting up, and brushing the dirt off his pants. "We're in high school, I thought that was something people left behind in middle school."

"I think it's kind of romantic," You shrug, and Jungkook offers his hand out for you and you accept, standing and dusting off your shorts as well. "But it is kind of sappy. You can't blame them though, these dramas are setting too high of standards for these people. Either way, you should tell them whether or not you reciprocate feelings. Are you really that oblivious?"

"Reciprocate feelings?" Jungkook crosses his arms before he continues, "They should know that you're the only girl in my life." 

What?

"Yeah, but I'm your friend, not your romantic partner." Jungkook lets out a sigh before he runs his hands through his hair, and you’re suddenly wishing you were the one doing it. "Okay, fine. But help me, I don't know how to let them down easy."

You were neighbors since the beginning of your lives, and didn't know of any friend that you both have known longer than each other. There were weekends where you would sleepover at each other's house, play games, watch movies, and eat junk food. It was almost a ritual – something the two of you do on a bi-weekly basis that it was never questioned by either of your parents. There was a level of trust that was established; he was welcomed to your house, and you were welcomed in his.

You're not sure when it started, these weird emotions you began to feel towards Jungkook. He was always the same annoying, overly excited, lazy guy. You didn't think you liked him in that way but there was this weird fuzzy feeling you had every time he smiled, or whenever he would blurt something flirtatious, even though you knew he was joking. You've seen him at his worst—room filled with trash of wrappers from candy, empty bags of chips, half drunk bottles of soda and water, and his clothes, dirty and clean, mixed in his room as if a tornado hit. But you had also seen him at his best, competing at his swim meets against the biggest names in the nation and locally combined, and during his practices where he’d still show the same persistence and motivation. Jungkook wanted to become a professional swimmer, and his ambitions were something you had always been supportive of and found admiring. He always left you questioning what your goals were, and how you were going to get there.

Jungkook snaps his fingers in front of your eyes before sitting down on the bench in front of you with his lunch. "What are you thinking of so deeply? Or are you staring at that guy over there?" He questions, tilting his head curiously.

"Oh, sorry, I just got caught up in my thoughts." You shake your head at the thought of having feelings for him before grabbing your chopsticks and digging into your lunch. "You're not thinking about the girl that just confessed to me in the lunch line, are you?"

"Wait—what? Again?"

"Yeah," He says, reaching into your lunch to steal a bite of some of your side dishes. "She was telling me how she thought that you liked me but since you never really tried confessing, this could be her opportunity to ask me out. I like that women these days are taking the initiative. Girl power," Jungkook pumps a fist up before poking through your lunch again. You slap his hand again and grimace. "Circling back to the main topic... So what did you say in return?"

"I told her to be patient and that you'd ask me out."

You choke on some rice, coughing as you grab the water that Jungkook hands over to you and chugging it down. "You told her I was going to ask you out?"

"Remember this morning? I said that you're the only girl in my life."

You couldn't help but think about what he said for the rest of the day. You're the only girl in my life. Groaning, you slide your arms on your desk with your hands in your hair, tousling it in slight frustration. He couldn't keep saying things like that; it made your heart flutter.

"Hey," A classmate, Yura, turns around in her seat in front of you, tapping your arms that were covering your face. She was a friend you made several years back, now coincidentally having the same classes as you. "What?" You mutter, peeking in between your palms. "I heard another girl confessed to Jungkook again during lunch." You sigh, letting your hands fall back onto the desk. "Yeah, what about it?"

"Well," Yura starts, pushing her seat back to move closer to you. She's sitting backwards in her chair  with a bright smile spread on her face. She loved to bother you in every way possible but beside that, she was equally of a great friend as Jungkook had been to you. "I'm curious as to why he hasn't dated anyone yet. No one here sparks an interest?"

"Well," You mimic her with a laugh trailing afterwards. "Are you hoping you can spark an interest?" She waves her hand and shakes her head, dismissing the assumption. "Oh, no no, I'm just curious. He just seems like the type to want to date around but he won't even glance at a girl. Is he gay?" 

You pull out a notebook from your bag when you notice your teacher walking into the classroom, rolling your eyes at her comment and nod your head to gesture the teacher's presence. "He mentioned before he wanted to focus on just becoming a swimmer. Maybe that's it."

"Okay fine, fine, I'll drop it. Anyway, let me come over today! I've been dying to try that new candy you bought from that store downtown. I haven't been recently..."

Later that day, on your walk to your house with Yura, she stops in her tracks and drags you aside to hide behind a tree. "What—"

"Hush!" She spits, peeping out from the side as you wipe her saliva that sprayed on your face. "Disgusting, Yura. What are you looking at?" She tugs on the sleeve of your uniform and you both sneak a look from behind the tree. "It's Jungkook. Who is that girl?"

You see him opening the gates in front of his house with a female, who looks around your age, tracking behind him as he readily unlocks the front door to his house. She looked pretty – although that was presumption since you didn't really know what her actual features were other than from behind. But her hair was lusciously long, and she had a petite body, appearing to be Jungkook's ideal type. You haven't seen her before, so who was she? He never really had any female friends other than you. "Guess he brings girls home after all."

The two of you quickly make way to your house, rushing up the stairs as your mom shouts at you from the kitchen. "Stop running! You're going to slip in your socks!"

Yura already had her backpack dropped at the door of your bedroom, peering through the window as she bends down below the windowsill's height. "Look! She's in his room." You had a perfect view of Jungkook's bedroom from your own. Sometimes you'd catch yourself looking at him changing his shirt, or doing his homework. There were moments where that's where he'd be able to contact you if your phone died, too.

"I'm not looking," You respond, grabbing her stuff from the floor and placing on an unoccupied chair. "That's an invasion of privacy, Yura."

"They're talking," She commentates, ducking below at times when either of them face her direction. "What are they saying? What do you think they're saying?"

You walk toward Yura before pulling the blinds down and it hits her fingers. "Ah! What was that for?"

"Stop spying, Yura!" In all honesty, you just couldn't bring yourself to see him be with some girl, especially if she's been in his room. "They could be doing some intimate stuff. Are you trying to get free porn? Do you not have that at home?" She groans in return, falling back onto the floor. "I really wanted to see something juicy."

"Let's lose our virginity to each other," Jungkook proposes, fiddling with his fingers, trying to evade your gaze. "Eventually, we're going to have to do it with someone, but our firsts... wouldn't it be more comfortable with each other?" It was around 8pm, and Yura had already gone home. Jungkook threw a pebble at your window to gain your attention so you could come over to “talk.” He said it was urgent. This was urgent?

"You're not a virgin?" You let slip from your lips. "Sorry, I just... I assumed that you already gave yourself to someone because I saw someone in your room earlier."

"You peeked through my window?" He cocks a brow, finally locking eyes with yours. Your face was flushed in embarrassment, lips pink and slightly swollen from chewing on it so anxiously and hair unkempt from the friendly rough play with each other before. Jungkook knew he made jokes here and there about how you were the only girl in his life for him but he truly met it. He always had lingering feelings for you, but he was afraid of getting rejected then losing the friendship between the two of you.

"Accidentally," You lie, falling back onto the bed and looking up at the ceiling. "I'll be honest. I thought you slept with her. I thought you slept with a lot of girls."

"I'd tell you. Even if you didn't want to hear. I feel like I can't hide those things from you." He interjects, lying back onto the bed beside you, turning his head to observe your expressions. "I want to lose my first time to you."

"Wouldn't it be weird?" You turn to meet your eyes with his, tapping your fingers together restlessly. "You'd see me naked. It'll change the entire view of our friendship."

"That could never happen — negatively, I mean."

It didn’t take much convincing when it came to Jungkook. You’d do anything for him and likewise. He never failed to go above and beyond for you, extending his hand whenever you needed it. And you? Well, you felt the same way. "Then... okay. Let's do it."

It was just another Saturday night, where you'd plan to stay over at Jungkook's for a marathon of a kdrama the two of you found interest in recently. There were snacks and drinks in his room, and he brought the bedsheets, blankets and pillows onto the floor to get closer to the small TV monitor he had in his room. You both sat at an arms distance, and you were hugging one of the pillows while you were throwing another piece of popcorn into your mouth before you hear the door creek open and his mom peers in. "Another movie night?" She asks with a smile, handing Jungkook a plate of cut-up watermelon. He nods and thanks his mom before she closes the door with a goodnight.

"Ah, she's so nice. She knows I love watermelons the most." You comment, drinking some water to clear your palette before reaching for a slice. Taking a bite, juices spill out of your mouth, signaling with your hands to get Jungkook to get you a napkin as you shove the rest into your mouth. He gives you a napkin but doesn't let go, leaving his hands in yours. Furrowing your brows, you manage to say with cheeks filled with watermelon, "What are you doing—" Jungkook was already leaning in, licking the spill. He traces it with his lips before meeting with yours, moving in closer with his free hand on your waist.

What is he doing? You felt gross. A wash of emotions flush through your face when you realize you're not dressed for this. Was he trying to do your first time now? And how? Your hair was loosely tied up in a bun, wearing a baggy hoodie with some shorts that you quickly grabbed from one of your drawers. You felt so insecure. You didn't even have makeup on — at least if you did, you wouldn't look so... average. Jungkook was handsome, sexy, and cute. But when you saw yourself in the mirror, you couldn't even call yourself beautiful or ugly... just average. Was Jungkook going to lose his virginity to someone who didn't even look at anything he would want to remember?

You didn't move. He took the lead for a couple moments before reclining back, bumping his forehead with yours, lips swollen from the tugging of the kiss. "I think... tonight is the night. Can we do it tonight?"

"I don't really feel... attractive enough right now." You confess after swallowing the remains of the fruit. "Trust me," He says between his breaths that seemed a bit heavier. "You're attractive right now." Letting go of your hand, he leans against his bed on the floor before lifting you from your waist to straddle him. "It feels effortless this way."

Moving closer, you try to sit down completely on him, hands confusingly trying to find a placement before he grabs them and guides you to wrap them around his neck. He groans, raising your hips slightly to lose contact with his. "Sorry, I'm kind of hard and it hurts when you press down that hard," He reveals, ears brimming in red. You immediately back away before he brings you back closer. "Sorry—"

"Don't be sorry," Jungkook says before pulling you into another kiss, hands gripping onto your thighs before maneuvering them up and down your legs. You slowly reiterate his motions, opening your lips slightly for him to slip his tongue in. Your fingers comb through his hair before he pulls away for a moment, panting uneven patterns compared to yours. "My hormones are raging, and your shorts are just really short. You're not even wearing a bra," He states as his hands begin to roam around your bottom before he slides them underneath your hoodie to feel your bare skin. "You're beautiful." Oh, that made my stomach feel weird.

He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, planting delicate kisses, following a suck and a nip afterwards that made you feel slightly uncomfortable but at the same time pleasurable. Unconsciously, you move your hips into his before a faint moan escapes his lips. "Sorry," You apologize, lifting yourself up, only for his hands to shove them back down, grinding his hips into yours. Suddenly, you felt warm down there.

Jungkook takes a moment to take off his t-shirt, exposing his built chest. You had noticed he had been working out lately, but you never got to see the results of it. He tugs on the hem of your hoodie, giving you a look. "Can I take this off?" You slouch a bit, feeling your cheeks flush in embarrassment. "I kind of have a junk food belly at the moment." He lets out a chuckle, pinching your stomach a bit before shaking his head. "I think it's attractive, please let me take it off." You hesitate, but comply anyways and he discards the material. Your chest falls in his sight, and he felt himself twitch in his pants before grabbing a breast and letting the other one's nipple slip into his mouth. Your hands find the crown of his head and tug on his hair gently, earning a hum from you. "Feels good?" He asks, and you reply with only a nod before he lays your body back onto the floor, holding onto your head before slipping a pillow underneath.

Jungkook plants a kiss on your lips before tailing down to your neck, and then your chest, playing with your nipple before leading his hand down into your pants, finding a place in between your legs then brushing your clit. He leans back up to kiss your ear before whispering, "Show me how to make you feel good." You nod, feeling a bit flustered, still placing your hand on top of his outside of your shorts. You guide him, and when he touches the right spot, you can't help but gasp and close your legs. "Please?" He begs, and you open your legs back up for him as he slips a finger in. You were warm and wet around him, and his breath quickened against your ear. Jungkook pulls in and out before adding another finger, earning a whimper from you and he slows down, noticing your face crinkle up in slight pain. He wanted to stretch you enough for him so you wouldn't be in as much pain later.

The feeling eventually subsided and replaced with pleasure. You stop his hand when you feel yourself almost hitting your high and lock eyes with him as he raises a brow questioningly. "I'm ready."

Both of your pants were off, and your legs were spread for him as you watched him lean to his bedside table to grab condoms from a drawer, opening on and sliding it onto his shaft. He positions himself outside of you, looking up to meet your gaze before gifting you a peck on the lips, slowly entering in. "Ah," You wince in pain, as he moans quietly from feeling your warmth. "I'm going to move slowly, so please tell me when you're ready." He says, lips pressed against your collarbone, holding himself back from letting it go.

After several slow thrusts, you squeeze his arm to signal him to move faster. He eagerly obeys, quickening his movements before he feels his stomach clenching moments later. "I think I'm about to cum," He says, body tensing above you as strings of cum paint your inner walls. Jungkook's chest is against yours when he collapses from reaching his high, face in your neck with his fringe damp and body glistening with a layer of sweat. He regains his composure before lifting his head and giving you another kiss on your lips. "I'm sorry, that was fast, you were just so tight and warm— do you want me to help you finish?—"

You lay, hair a mess, no sign of the tie anywhere, skin sticky, uneven breaths, and cheeks flushed crimson. It felt good— even though it didn't last for long— but it felt good. Shaking your head, you pull him in for a longer embrace. "Don't worry about it, it was good. I'm content," You say honestly. You didn't need to finish because you felt like you were at your high already.

The weekend passes, and Monday hits.

"Wait... you're telling me that your first kiss and your first time was with him? And you've never wanted to date him?" Yura says astoundingly. "But you're still friends. There's no way you don't have feelings for him. You like him, don't you?"

You scratch the back of your head before shrugging your shoulders, opening the textbook laying in front of you. "I don't know, Yura, you're asking me a lot of questions right now. I'm not sure how to reply." It was the middle of a break session in class, and people were sitting around, talking or playing games, so it was rowdy enough for the two of you to have a conversation without anyone overhearing. "That's what someone with a crush says," She responds, shaking her head before tapping her pen against the table. "Maybe you should confess to him or something."

"Confess to who?"

You felt your heart drop for a moment -- no one heard anything, did they? Eyes looking up at the person whose body lingers, you notice that there are two people standing at the end of your desk. "Oh, Jungkook, Hoseok, you scared me," Yura has her hand on her chest, inhaling in a deep breath. "I decided to drop by your class since Jungkook is too busy to hang out with me today," Gleams Hoseok, arm hanging around Jungkook's shoulder.

"You guys didn't answer my initial question, who are you confessing to?" Jungkook asks. Although the question was supposed to be directed to the both of you, his eyes were directly locked onto you. "Uh, pft, no one," You turn your head to look at Yura, stare hinting for her to help. Luckily, she reads this and claps her hands together with a laugh. "Me! I should confess to a guy,"

"Oh, who?" Hoseok had already grabbed a chair and sat down at this point, suddenly interested in the conversation. "And how are you going to do it? Are you going to do it like those girls did for Jungkook?"

Jungkook shakes his head, and extends his arm out to shift Hoseok back in his seat. "No, I think you guys were trying to talk about someone else's confession, not yours, Yura."

The bell rings. Hoseok frowns, standing up before returning the chair back to the rightful owner, ruffling Jungkook's hair. "That's my signal to leave, please tell me what happens next!" He makes his way out of the classroom as Jungkook waves goodbye but keeps his stare at you. "Saved by the bell. But I expect a talk later."

Fuck.

[elwenyere]

Deck the Halls

(Steve/Tony fluff, in which the Avengers make their own holiday decorations, and it goes about as well as you would expect)

Also on AO3

“Okay,” Tony said, “I am willing to admit that putting repulsors on the Iron Man ornaments was not my best idea.”

He paused to duck as a pillow, half a molasses crinkle, and what looked suspiciously like a tranquilizer dart flew at him from three different locations in the Avengers common room.

“But I maintain,” he continued from behind the couch, “that the underlying principle of the design is both technologically sound and aesthetically adorable. Also, refs, can I get a rule check on ‘no using knock-out techniques on your teammates’?”

“If I wanted you knocked out, you’d be dreaming of sugar plums right now,” Natasha called out from somewhere behind a makeshift barricade of packages and wrapping-paper rolls. One of the tiny Iron Men buzzed over her head, sending a barrage of dime-sized repulsor blasts at a Rudolph gift bag, and Natasha shot the ornament out of the air with her Widow’s Bites.

“Also, calling in the refs is a pretty bold move,” Bruce added, “considering that the miniature murder bots guarding our Christmas tree are in flagrant violation of rules ten through fifteen.”

Bruce’s voice was slightly distorted by the walls of his blanket fort, which Steve had suggested building as an anti-Hulking measure when the first wave of ornaments flew off their branches and into attack formation. So far the strategy had proved successful, with only one close call after Thor almost collided with the fort during an enthusiastic mid-air tackle.

“Remind me never to do holiday dinners with you guys again,” Rhodey groaned. He was crouched next to Tony behind the couch opposite Steve’s, and Steve could hear the faint whir of the War Machine gauntlet as he scanned the room. “I could be falling asleep on my couch to the Vince Guaraldi Trio, and instead I’m hiding from an army of weaponized Christmas figurines.”

“When you’re subpoenaed for the inevitable senate hearing about this, just remember: it was all Steve’s fault,” Tony advised.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Steve replied, adding an eye roll that he knew Tony would hear in his voice.

It was true that Steve had been the one to suggest that they make their own decorations for the Tower this year. But it was also true that Steve’s contribution (a hand-drawn series of family holiday cards to hang on the fridge) had been the only one that hadn’t tended to produce chaos. Thor and Natasha’s idea to braid garlands had started out innocently enough. But then they’d decided to add “motivational mead” to the creative process. Ten hours later, they’d produced so many strings of spruce, holly, and taffeta that the garlands had to be looped around every available surface, twisting around lamps and chair legs until the common room looked like it was being slowly strangled to death by a festive boa constrictor. Bruce – in a complete failure to learn from the previous Halloween’s Saltwater Taffy Incident – had concocted a spiced eggnog so addictively good that each new batch he made disappeared almost immediately – setting off a cycle of recrimination and dairy-based hoarding. And Clint had stayed true to form by making an extremely explicit, themed pin-up calendar of himself, which had been quickly banned from all common areas by a 4-2 vote (“I think these poses are courageous,” Thor had explained, “considering your very small human sizes”).

“Blame is assigned by the survivors, Stark,” Natasha said evenly. Her face darted into view at one end of her barricade, next to a box wrapped in “Hulk Smash!” paper. “And if we don’t get these ornaments contained before Bruce’s chocolate pecan pie has to come out of the oven, I can’t guarantee that anyone in this room will qualify.”

“How many left, JARVIS?” Tony asked.

“Just three, sir,” the crisp voice replied. “And my sensors indicate they are all locked in a standoff with the large stuffed hedgehog on the lower floor.”

“Do I have to ask?” Rhodey muttered.

“It’s for Pepper,” Tony explained, “a running gag: she thinks it’s hilarious.”

“We should set a trap to draw out the remaining ornaments,” Steve decided. “I want eyes on the perimeter – where the hell is Clint anyway?”

As if on cue, a grappling arrow shot across the room and latched onto the side of a container of eggnog. The metal wire attached to the hook pulled taut and then retracted with a sharp twang, yanking the eggnog over their heads and back into the air vent.

“You have a problem, man!” Rhodey yelled after Clint’s feet as they slithered away from the opening in the ducts. “Get help!”

“Ah that gives me an idea!” Thor exclaimed. He popped his head up from behind the kitchen counter, where he had apparently been braiding one of the garlands into his hair. “The tiny Iron Soldiers seem determined to guard the spirit of the holidays. Perhaps we can use that to our advantage.”

“Right,” Tony agreed, “cover me.”

He stood up and strode toward the Christmas tree, gauntlet charging.

“Come out, my tiny, murderous robot sons,” Tony called, “or I’m going to turn your favorite tree into a pile of toothpicks.”

“Did you actually equip them with audio sensors? Or are you just grandstanding?” Rhodey asked.

“Kind of stepping on my moment here, Gumdrop,” Tony replied.

And whether it was because the ornaments had somehow sensed a threat to the tree or because they had successfully subdued all the stuffed animals in the vicinity, Steve’s ears suddenly picked up the low whine that meant hostile décor was incoming. As Tony held his position, Steve saw Natasha, Rhodey, and Thor leap out from cover and take aim at the three diminutive Iron Men that were shooting toward their creator’s head.

“Tony!” Steve yelled, and Tony let out a small yelp of surprise as Steve tackled him sideways onto the couch. Steve curled his body protectively around Tony’s, and he threw up his shield just in time to shelter them from the disintegrated ornaments, which fell like a shower of harmless glitter into a halo around their heads.

Steve cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks flush slightly as a chunk of armor the size of a pea pattered onto the couch next to them with a barely audible fizzle.

“My hero,” Tony smirked.

“A bit overdramatic, Rogers,” Thor observed.

“Ooooooh, Captain America!” Clint called in a high-pitched voice from a nearby vent. “You’re so dreamy. Will you sign my chest?”

A chorus of boos and a smattering of tossed cookies followed Clint’s laughing retreat back through the ducts.

“So I’m thinking the Mark II ornaments should come with a fail-safe button,” Tony mused, looking up at Steve with his head still resting in the crook of Steve’s arm.

“Tony,” Steve sighed.

“What?” Tony asked with exaggerated innocence. “I have models for the whole team. There’s even a little Cap ornament with magnets for the hug and fly.”

Steve chewed his bottom lip.

“Are you trying not to smile?” Tony asked.

“I’m trying to contain my disapproval,” Steve replied.

“You’re trying not to smile,” Tony confirmed. “Let it out, Steve. I’m objectively delightful.”

“You’re objectively a threat to national security,” Steve retorted.

“Yeah, and you love it,” Tony nodded. “That’s like…your number one turn on.”

Steve finally allowed a smile to spread across his face. In the part of his mind that was always scanning his periphery, he was aware of Natasha helping Bruce out of his blanket fort and picking a piece of lint out of his hair – her hand lingering a little longer than necessary as Bruce assured her he had a backup pie in the fridge. Rhodey and Thor were loudly concocting plans to smoke Clint out (and pointedly ignoring Clint’s own contributions from the vent above them). And in the center, as always, was Tony, who was grinning victoriously as he took in Steve’s expression.

“You’re right,” Steve told him. “I do love you.”

Tony's smile froze in momentary surprise and then softened.

“This is how you want to say that for the first time?” he asked teasingly, his hands coming up to brush at Steve’s sides just above the hem of his jeans. “On the couch, surrounded by our catcalling friends and the scorched remains of the homicidal holiday ornaments I created?”

“Yep,” Steve answered, leaning down to kiss Tony’s forehead. “I love that you make messes,” a kiss on the right cheek, “I love that you invite messes to move in,” a kiss on the left cheek, “I love that since I met you, you’ve made every mess of mine your mess too,” a final kiss – as gentle as Steve could make it – on Tony’s lips. “I love you, Tony.”

He pulled back so he could look into Tony’s eyes and watch the rapid play of emotion across his face – always too fast to track.

“I love you too, you big sap,” Tony replied, and as the team whooped and set off a round of Christmas crackers, he pulled Steve back down by the front of his Iron Man sweater.

[luvshuas]

behind the oak door

pairing - soonyoung x reader

tags - horror

synopsis - having traveled for hours, soonyoung stops at a bed & breakfast for the night, but following the strange set of rules he is given, he soon discovers something that was never meant for his eyes

word count -  3.5k

note - the public did not ask for something scary, therefore i must give them something scary! 

Four hours. That’s how long it had been since Soonyoung last saw anyone. Four hours since he left the gas station where the clerk told him to be careful, especially as he got closer to the forest of thick spruce trees. Soonyoung had laughed at the clerk’s warning, assuring the man that he would be fine as long as he had a full tank of gas and an energy drink to keep him alert. In the four hours since he had left the gas station, Soonyoung hadn’t seen a single car. No one was heading to or from the direction of the spruce trees. It was just him, his depleting tank of gas, and the empty energy drink can that sat in his cup holder next to one he had finished earlier in the drive.

The lack of any life at all — save for the trees — didn’t worry Soonyoung. Who, besides him, would come hiking through this region as winter began nearing? He laughed to himself. His friends back at home must think he’s crazy for doing something like this, but would Soonyoung be if not a thrill seeker?

It was another two hours of driving before anything other than trees and road came into view. Cleverly placed at the side of the road, the building was a large tudor-style home. A flimsy hanging sign at the edge of the road read, in large letters, “QUIET PINES BED & BREAKFAST.” Soonyoung made no hesitation turning onto the gravel driveway that led to the house. It wasn’t dark yet, but Soonyoung could see the sun beginning to set, and he didn’t have any plans to pull off to the shoulder of the road and sleep in his car.

The small parking lot was completely vacant of any cars, save for a small silver Kia. Parking in the space closest to the front of the house, Soonyoung got out of his car, opting to leave his bags inside just so it didn’t look like he was implying that the bed and breakfast had no patrons — though, by the looks of the parking lot, it definitely had none. Walking up to the house, Soonyoung was able to get a better look at all of the details. The house seemed built on a sturdy foundation with a cobbled path leading up to stone stairs, and then a small stone porch. Moss was clinging to the stones and slipping through their cracks. Ivy grew up the red brick walls and across the once white stucco.

The door knob turned easily, save for a few squeaks, and the door swung inwards. Stepping into the foyer, Soonyoung could tell most of the house would be similar to the state it was in outside. Outdated wallpaper adorned the walls, covered in some places by seemingly normal paintings that were held in wooden frames painted to look gold. The front desk — which was off to the right when entering — was made of a dark wood. It was completely barren of any decorations. Soonyoung’s attention wandered away from the front desk as he continued through the foyer.

“Welcome to Quiet Pines Bed and Breakfast,” a voice echoed down into the space. “Did you have a reservation or are you a walk-in?”

Soonyoung’s head whipped around until he caught sight of you standing halfway up the staircase that was tucked against a wall across from the front desk. Your expression was blank as you continued your descent down the remaining stairs. “Well? Are you looking to stay here or not?” You asked, impatience leaking into your tone.

“Y-yes,” Soonyoung stuttered. “I’m sorry, yes. I don’t have a reservation. I’m a walk-in, and my name is Kwon Soonyoung.” Soonyoung thought he saw the traces of a smile when he mentioned not having a reservation, but he chalked it up to his nerves just trying to calm him down.

“I don’t need your name,” you said, crossing the floor to stand behind the desk. “Do you have cash? The card reader is unfortunately broken and I don’t have much time to travel into town to buy a new one.”

Soonyoung fished in his pocket for his wallet, cursing when his hands came out empty. “It’s in my car. I’ll be back! My car is the red one!” He said, hurriedly making his way out of the house. He felt your eyes on him the entire time until he was out of the building and there was no way for you to stare straight into him. His composure was much calmer now that he was outside, and he walked to his car with no rush. Opening the door, his conscience screamed at him to get into the car and drive away, but the sun had already begun dipping behind the horizon and Soonyoung didn’t want to travel along an unfamiliar road in the dead of night.

Wallet in hand, he returned to the poorly kept bed and breakfast. “How much is the room? I’ll only be here for one night.”

“$60,” you said, sticking your hand out for him to place the money in. Nothing about the situation seemed right to Soonyoung, but he took out the owed amount anyways and set it onto your open palm. Your hand closed around the bills quickly as you opened a drawer and set the creased money into it. “Your room will be 5B. I’ll check in on you later to give you the rules.”

You left as swiftly as you came, heading up the stairs with silent steps. Soonyoung looked down at the key that was left on the counter. It looked like a normal house key, save for the blue tag labeled 5B attached to the loophole. Pocketing the key, Soonyoung turned to walk back to his car and retrieve his bags and haul them up the stairs to his room. The room in question was decorated similarly to the rest of the house with the same ugly wallpaper. A four poster bed sat in the middle of the room against a wall, with two matching nightstands and lamps on either side. A wardrobe sat opposite of the bed, though Soonyoung found it to be locked when he tried to pull the doors open. He thought it might just be kept here for decor rather than usefulness.

True to your word, Soonyoung heard you knocking thirty minutes after he settled into his room. He hadn’t had the chance to open the door, let alone allow you into the room, before you pushed the door open and stepped across the threshold. “How are you finding everything?”

“Very...nice,” Soonyoung hesitated, hoping he chose the right words. “Thank you.”

You smiled, but it did nothing to ease Soonyoung’s worries. If anything, it made him more tense. “I’m glad. Like I said earlier, I’m here to inform you of the rules. Shall we get started?” You asked, continuing when Soonyoung gestured for you to. “Great. First, check-out time is tomorrow at ten in the morning. Do not stay past that time. Second, do not go exploring. You may look around the common room downstairs and the sun room. Third, breakfast is at eight in the morning and will be cleaned up half an hour later. Lastly, do not try to open any locked doors. Especially the dark oak door at the end of the hallway.”

A chill shot through Soonyoung’s back as the last rule left your lips. The air between the two of you was charged with your warning and the beginnings of his fear, but he still managed to nod. “Good. I’ll be retiring to my bedroom for the rest of the night. You’re free to do as you please within the limits of the rules.” You said, closing the door as you left.

Soonyoung didn’t move an inch until he could no longer hear your footsteps. A mixture of fear and adrenaline coursed through him. He was sure there was an open-ended threat attached to the last rule. It didn’t need to be spoken for him to understand what was being implied. Soonyoung moved across the room to the door, locking it quickly before returning to his previous spot by the bed. Already he began feeling calmer knowing nobody could get through the locked door.

Eventually Soonyoung found himself tiring from the long day driving and began to settle into bed. The mattress was a lot comfier than he thought it would be considering the way it looked, and the blankets seemed to trap warmth against his body. He felt himself drift into sleep the moment his head landed on the pillow and he closed his eyes. In no time he was lulled into a comforting sleep.

Soonyoung slept peacefully for a few hours until he heard something scratching at his door. The sound was quiet, but it penetrated his room and pulled him from his sleep. Thoughts clouded by drowsiness, Soonyoung called out, “Hello?” As if set off by the sound of his voice, the scratching became more frantic, more desperate. Whatever was raking its nails against his door wanted entrance into the room.

Closing his eyes once more, Soonyoung tried to return back to sleep, but the scraping didn’t cease. It seemed more frantic as Soonyoung’s eyes fluttered open and close. Lifting his head, Soonyoung grabbed the pillow from under him and closed it around his face. It was a weak attempt to block out the insufferable scratching, but it was better than nothing.

Unfortunately for him, the scratching sound continued to penetrate past the attempted covering of his ears. Soonyoung let out a groan as he pushed the blankets from his body and stood to investigate the scratching coming from the hallway.

“What do-” Soonyoung’s words died in his throat as his gaze drifted towards the calico cat that sat in front of his door. It let out a pathetic mewl before padding down the dark hallway. Soonyoung poked his head across the threshold, keeping his gaze set on the cat. “Who are you and where are you going?”

The hallway was nearly devoid of light. There were no lamps lit or wall sconces burning light into the hallway, but the sheer curtains covering the few windows let in some moonlight. Forgetting his shoes, Soonyoung followed the cat out into the hallway. The woodboards of the floor were cold against his feet, but he continued the trek down the hallway, which seemed to stretch on for miles.

The cat let out a few meows every couple of feet, almost as if it was making sure Soonyoung was still following. Eventually Soonyoung reached the end of the hallway. There were three doors that he could see. One on either side of the hallway, and one right in front of him. The moonlight didn’t touch this section of the hallway, and it took a few minutes for Soonyoung’s eyes to adjust to the darkness that surrounded him.

He could feel the cat snaking between his legs, rubbing its head against his foot or ankle. Soonyoung didn’t think he was supposed to be here. Recalling the rules, he remembered your warning not to try to enter a locked oak door, but from his observations all the doors in the house were some type of wood, and he wasn’t too confident in his ability to tell different types of wood apart. Without thinking, Soonyoung reached for the brass door knob. He felt out of control when it came to his own movements as he turned the knob, though the door didn’t give way. It stayed stubbornly shut.

Soonyoung pulled his hand back from the knob, feeling as if he had been burned. But the same compelling sensation returned as his eyes flitted to the door to his right. He didn’t know what was happening to him, but the feeling that he just had to open that door wouldn’t leave him. With the same hand, he reached for the knob attached to the door to the room on his right, exhaling in relief when it allowed him entry.

The room was similar to the one that he had been staying in. The wallpaper was still just as ugly and an identical bed was against the wall and taking up most of the bedroom space. The sensation of the cat that had been rubbing against Soonyoung’s legs had left him, though he didn’t know when the cat had gone. Looking down the hallway, he couldn’t see it. Then he stepped across the threshold into this new room.

A layer of dust seemed to have settled over the furniture, causing Soonyoung to sneeze a few times. He tried to suppress or at least quiet the noise. Soonyoung briefly wondered if it would be rude to suggest that you buy a duster.

Continuing through the room, Soonyoung found a few items that set this room apart from the one he was supposed to be sleeping in. In place of a wardrobe, a vanity was pushed up against the wall. A white sheet covered what looked like a mirror and a few cosmetic items were scattered across the vanity. A dried out tube of lipstick laid on its side next to a closed powder container. Soonyoung’s hand drifted to the sheet covering the mirror as he readied himself to lift it.

The sound of glass shattering pulled Soonyoung back to himself and he dropped the little bit of the cover that he had begun lifting. Staying still, his eyes darted across the room to the bedside table. He could faintly make out the outline of the cat and the small porcelain object that was now broken into a hundred pieces on the floor. Letting out a shaky breath, Soonyoung crossed the room to where the cat sat.

“You are a troublemaker, aren’t you?” He whispered, lifting the cat into his arms. He smiled as the rumble of a purr came from the cat. Soonyoung scratched the cat’s soft chin, but when he pulled his hand away there was a dampness that stuck to his finger.

“What?” He murmured, bringing the finger up his nose to try to smell what the mystery substance was, but he found it to be odorless. Grimacing, Soonyoung lifted his finger to his mouth to touch it to his tongue, figuring it wasn’t anything from the cat’s bladder based on the lack of smell. A metallic tang rushed his taste buds as they came into contact with whatever was on his finger.

Soonyoung’s stomach dropped as he remembered what liquid tasted metallic. Blood. Holding the cat out in front of him, he puzzled as to why it would have blood on its chin. He couldn’t imagine that it was injured, otherwise it wouldn’t have let Soonyoung pet it. He tried to rationalize that the cat might’ve been hunting a bird or something outside before returning to him, but he knew the cat hadn’t been gone long enough for that to make sense.

Setting the cat down, Soonyoung moved away from the table and shattered object. He walked farther into the room, his attention wandering with him. The room gave off the feeling that it had been previously used, though he couldn’t tell how long ago that was. Besides the opened cosmetics laying on the vanity, the bed was unmade. Blankets were pushed around on the mattress and a few of the decorative pillows were tossed onto the floor.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a door. Light was leaking through the bottom of the door, though he couldn’t hear anything coming from the other side of it. Thankful that he didn’t have to worry about the sounds his shoes would’ve made on the floorboards, Soonyoung crossed the space between him and the poorly hidden door. Soonyoung pressed his ear against the wood, straining to hear something, anything. But no sound came through the door. Soonyoung raised his hand to grip the door handle, turning it until he heard the click that allowed him to push the door open.

Opening it just wide enough for him to peek through the crack, the light temporarily blinded him, but after a few blinks his eyes readjusted to having light. From the little bit of the room that he could see, Soonyoung noticed the walls covered with the same white sheet that was covering the vanity mirror in the room he was in. A mop was leaning against the wall closest to him, and when he was sure there wouldn’t be anyone in the room, he pushed the door open further. The room horrified him.

Red puddles were pooling around the floor. A glass cupboard holding jars of various liquids and plants — one he recognized as hemlock — was pushed into the corner of the room. A desk sat next to it with an open journal. Soonyoung tip-toed around the pools of liquid until he stood in front of the desk. Anatomical drawings detailing where to inject needles or where veins and arteries were located filled the book as Soonyoung flipped through the pages. Shakily he set the book down.

“Are you really so rude as to not follow the basic rules of my home?” Your voice was startling as it broke through the horrifying silence that had settled into the room. Soonyoung turned to look at you over his shoulder. Your lips were set in an unimpressed line as you looked at him expectantly. Sighing, you continued to speak, “It was really so simple. Stay in your room, and you get to leave. However, I’ve noticed no one likes to follow rules.”

Soonyoung’s face blanched as he realized this was the room with the locked door leading to the hallway.

“Did I tell you what happens to those who can’t follow the simplest of rules? No? Well, they’re taught how to listen,” you continued, shutting the door behind you. “Society can’t function if no one listens.”

Soonyoung’s feet were moving before he realized he was running for the door that he had used to get in. He winced as he felt his foot land in one of the bloody puddles on the floor, but he didn’t slow down. Swinging around the door frame, he continued until he was running down the hallway. He could hear your faint laughter as he passed his bedroom and nearly threw himself down the stairs in an attempt to put more distance between himself and you.

Slipping on the bottom three steps, the adrenaline that pumped through Soonyoung’s veins helped him to quickly pull himself up and rush through the front door. Once outside, the stinging of the gravel hitting his feet slowed him down slightly. He was sure his foot would be cut on a sharp rock by the time he got to his car, which he thankfully had parked close to the building.

Soonyoung pulled on the front door’s handle frantically, but it wouldn’t budge. He had locked his car after grabbing his bags and his car keys were left in the room he was staying in. “Fuck!” He shouted, as he looked around. Soonyoung didn’t have very many options for escape now that his car was crossed out. He figured he could run out to the road, but on the drive down here he hadn’t seen any sign of life and there was no way he would’ve been able to outrun your car. His next, and seemingly only, option was to run into the woods that surrounded the lot. At least there you wouldn’t be able to follow him with a vehicle.

Sucking in a shaky breath, Soonyoung took off into the forest just as he heard the front door open, slamming against the wall of the building. The wind carried your voice as you called out his name. Soonyoung had never hated the sound more than he did in that moment.

His legs burned with effort and his feet stung everytime they came in contact with the forest floor, but he needed to get away. He needed to survive. After what felt like forever, Soonyoung stopped behind a thick tree. His chest heaved as he tried to quietly catch his breath. He was completely alone in the dark. He couldn’t hear your voice calling out his name anymore.

He didn’t dare move. The world froze around him as he closed his eyes, trying to steady his heartbeat. Silently he prayed that he would make it out alive, that he would see his friends again. He promised to whatever deity might be listening to him that he would be kinder to those around him and he would right every wrong he’d ever committed.

The sound of leaves being crushed seemed to echo in the silence, but Soonyoung didn’t want to open his eyes. That would signify the end. It would mean all the running he had just done was for nothing. That there was no hope left for him. He kept them closed until he felt your presence. His breathing was shallow as he slowly began to open his eyes, filling his gaze with the image of you.

And then Soonyoung screamed.

[ladykailolu]

Alright! Like I promised! Below the cut are the pictures of the cute little rancher house that I’ve been working on and will eventually have Gyro and Johnny live in. It’s made with the Sims 4:

Here is what the lot looks like during all four time modes (morning, day, evening, and night):

I constructed it with rural Arizona in 1890 in mind. It’s a rancher, which has just one floor, with a stable and lots of yard space. Let’s take a deeper look!

Here’s a front view. There’s a little deck surrounding the house but no stairs because it has to be wheelchair-accessible for Johnny, and I don’t think Maxis/EA introduced ramps. There’s bench and a small patio table for when Johnny and Gyro wanna sit out in the evening and just watch the world go by. Oh! and I wanted to make this lot fully functional off-the-grid, so the little lantern there was actually suspended to “hang” from a wooden peg or whatever it’s called lol. I used the “9″ key to make that happen as well as bb.moveobjects on cheat. I can still illuminate the outside without using electricity.

Here’s another view of it.

So, through the front door, there’s immediately the kitchen area, dining room and general entry way. It’s a small home so I tried to make it look kinda homey, kinda lived in, and of course country-themed! There are herbs, and tea, and a coffee set on the counter, a chalkboard for things they need to buy, and a sink that, yet, will function off of the grid. I figured that Gyro would do most of the cooking, and they would take turns making coffee and tea. The double-door there in the last picture leads to the backyard. Oh, and the shelves contain all these little cute knicknacks I thought they might use to spruce up the place. And yes, Gyro displayed one of his teddy bears on the top shelf there in the last pic.

Connected to the entry room, there is another sitting room/gaming room. I have in here the don’t wake the llama table and chessboard, a few candles for light, and a couple of tapestries and pictures that give that “old west” kinda feel. Most of the windows here are open since it gets hot in Arizona.

The bathroom. I was debating if I wanted to have an outhouse for this lot, but eeeeeehhhhhhhh nah. I’ll just make a small bathroom instead. The light source here is that oil lamp I thought was cute to include because it gives off this spa theme, and the rest is self-explanatory.

The bedroom! It’s a modest-sized bedroom. There’s a desk that Gyro would mostly use as well as a skeleton that he uses to study the human body and bones and totally tried to convince Johnny to keep. And those teddy bears, oh my goodness. He couldn’t get rid of them, so there’s that. You might notice some, uh, *wicked* items in this room lmao. For example, there’s a box of condoms on the dresser there as well as one packaged condom on the nightstand. Hey, they’re horny guys in canon so ofc they get it on every now and again safely. And I liked the idea of having a sunflower theme through this house and so included pictures of sunflowers and nature throughout the room. I think it would be more apparent once I show you the outside.

THE BACKYARD!!!! This took me I think the most time to get right. Sort of. I was playing around with the grass and the terrain for the longest time because I was going for this desert savannah sort of thing. I still wanted to include a shady spot where Gyro and Johnny can sit out of the sun, so I included a bench underneath the trees. The bunny there is supposed to be a reference to Tusk act 1 lol.

The little stable barn is over there not too far from the house, and I included a deck around with a picnic table just so that they can eat outside when they want. I also included lots of flora to liven up the place. I think it looks quite nice!

The stable. There’s not much here. A wood carving table and two pens for Valkyrie and Slow Dancer. Unfortunately, the Sims 4 didn’t include horses, so uuuuhhhh the horses look like that. I may download that one mod that includes rideable horses in the future to make it marginally better.

The garden at night! I thought the lanterns made everything look romantic. And yes, there’s a dartboard outside for extra entertainment.

More pics at night! It looks quite quaint. The candles lighting the interior don’t brighten everything too much, so it encourages everyone to go to sleep a little sooner so the morning light can illuminate their way.

[elisela]

take my whole life, too buck x eddie, 1.4k, vermont verse for @extasiswings and @tylerhunklin because that cellist fic inspired me and chapel said !!!!!!!!!!! so here’s eddie learning to play the guitar because i only know how to play the ukulele and eddie would never choose that so close enough.

Eddie’s not sure why he does it.

Well, that’s not true—they’re in Bobby’s backyard on a warm July night, the kids running around with sparklers, popping little plastic champagne bottles full of confetti over people’s heads when they’re not looking. Eddie’s standing near the grill with Michael and Bobby (he may not be able to cook but he’s from Texas, okay, he knows how to barbecue), recounting some of his funnier stories about being in the military (he can joke about it now, doesn’t feel like choking whenever he mentions it) when Buck’s bright laughter draws his gaze.

“So he starts singing this song and I swear I was so close to losing it,” Maddie says, “I had to pretend to be sick so I could run to the bathroom and laugh.”

He’s not sure what they’re talking about, but they look happy, relaxed, and then Buck says—

“I always wished someone would serenade me.”

And somehow, Eddie’s at a music store the next day in Burlington, buying a guitar.

--

Eddie’s never liked being an amateur. It’s not that he dislikes learning, or thinks he should be great at everything right away, but he feels too deeply the judging looks that people will give (whether they’re in his imagination or not is another story), so his original plan had been: buy a guitar online, hide it, practice like crazy until he could get a simple song out, sing to Buck.

He falls into a Buck-esque research spiral after they leave Bobby’s house that night, googling guitars on his phone and watching “learn to play” youtube videos until 3am, when Buck rolls over in his sleep and slides his hands over Eddie’s stomach and down lower, until Eddie drops his phone on the floor accidentally and then somehow it’s 4am and Buck is breathing hard against him and they both need a shower.

Regardless, he’d learned a few things: don’t buy a guitar online, and it’s really easy to play C and F major.

It comes in handy at the store; luckily, he’s not the only one there so he waves off the bored-looking clerk and looks over the wall of guitars, drawn to the two-tone ones; he reads the signs and tries to look like he knows what he’s doing but in the end he picks up one that proclaims it has a Sitka spruce top and mahogany back, strums the two chords he’d learned from trying to memorize a chord chart in the middle of the night, and buys it without looking at the price tag.

… he probably should have looked at the price tag.

--

Given Eddie’s abundance of free time, it’s pretty easy to hide what he’s doing, which is good, because he is objectively terrible at playing the guitar. His fingers feel clumsy; he’d never played an instrument before, favored extra history classes in high school over band, and he had thought that the easy rhythm he can find while dancing would transfer over, but strum patterns and counts get tangled up somewhere between his brain and his fingers and he ends up off-beat and confused halfway through a song. He tries doing things properly, working through a beginner’s book he bought online and hides in the bottom drawer of his desk, but just picking simple melodies and occasional chords frustrates him and he ends up shoving the guitar in the attic for two weeks before he gives in and does what he’d wanted to do all along—follow along with YouTube videos.

He spends three days looking up songs that only use a few basic chords and finally settles on a simplified version of Can’t Help Falling in Love With You, because Buck loves sappy and Eddie loves Buck, and no one needs to know how when he sings it, he thinks about the first time he saw Buck standing on the porch, crouching down to talk to Christopher, bright smile and laugh lighting up Eddie’s life.

For a simple song it takes him a frustratingly long time to learn it, but finally, he’s ready for the last part of the plan: sing it to Buck.

Oh, shit.

He has to sing it.

--

In middle school, Eddie’s choir teacher called them over to the corner of the room one at a time and had them sing a few lines so she could determine their voice classifications. Her face had been neutral while listening to him, but a few weeks later while they were singing The Lion Sleeps Tonight, she’d pulled Eddie and Robbie Martin to the side and said, “you know boys, no one will notice if you just mouth the words.”

Eddie mouthed the words.

--

So, Eddie makes a new plan. He needed one anyway, because it’s not like he could just pull Buck into the office after work and sing to him, no. Buck wants to be serenaded, and that demands certain things.

Like getting his son out of the house, for one. No offense to Christoper, but he doesn’t need his extremely sarcastic eleven year old around while he’s trying to be romantic.

That’s easy enough, though, given that Denny is at his house daily after school—a single text message to Karen and he’s got the house to himself Saturday night and most of the day Sunday.

He sucks it up and calls Sophia for advice on how to do the rest, hangs up on her after two minutes of her laughing and calls Adriana instead. He always knew she was his favorite sister (okay she wasn’t, but she certainly is now), because she squeals excitedly and he has to ask her to slow the rapid flow of words so he can actually understand her.

By the time Saturday morning rolls around, he’s ready. He spreads a picnic blanket out in the far corner of their yard, under the sugar maple trees and near the fire-pit Buck had dug out the summer before they got married, packs a picnic basket with snacks, and sends Chris over to Hen’s just after lunch. He spends the rest of the day with Buck; they drive a well-known route through the changing trees, holding hands and trading kisses across the center console whenever Eddie stops at a red light. He takes him out to his favorite farm-to-table restaurant in Waterbury, then brings him home and takes out his secret weapon: bourbon sours.

--

Buck is a happy but sloppy drunk, but Eddie’s learned over the years that there’s a point in Buck’s drinking that is optimal for him: happy and affectionate, his hands roaming all over Eddie’s body and his mouth spilling words of adoration.

That’s the place Eddie’s trying to find tonight.

It takes a few hours, time he spends making out with his husband while wrapped up in his arms, sprawled out across the blanket with their legs tangled together. Finally, after Buck spends at least five minutes talking about the perfect softness of Eddie’s bottom lip (five minutes because he’s kept interrupting himself to kiss Eddie), he excuses himself under the guise of getting water, grabs his guitar, and heads back outside.

Buck’s sitting up, leaning back to look at the stars—the view isn’t as good as it was in El Paso when he’d drive out of town and into the desert, but it’s decent enough, and it means Buck doesn’t see him coming until he sits down next to him. He’s not sure what to say so he doesn’t, just strums a few chords and when he knows he has Buck’s attention, he starts to sing.

His voice shakes, and he transitions to the wrong chord at one point and has to hope Buck doesn’t notice, but he gets through it. He stares down the whole time, both because he’s not great at finding his fingering without looking and because he’s terrified to look at Buck’s face and see a hint of judgement, or amusement, or—anything, really. So when he finished and finally looks up, he’s a little stunned to see tear tracks glinting off Buck’s cheeks in the low light of the dying fire.

“Eddie,” he whispers, “I love you so much.”

And then Buck’s moving the guitar, setting it down gently at the edge of the blanket, and pressing Eddie backwards as he straddles his hips and leans down to kiss him.

“I love you,” Buck whispers, and Eddie feels him everywhere, hands on his arms and waist, “I love you,” wet lips kissing across his jaw up to his lips, “I love you, Eddie, I love you.”

Eddie sings to him again.

[sierracolorstheworldofwords]

Am anon who wanted to request Dark and Eric x reader dnfjfjfjfj y/n getting overwhelmed by how much they love the two and just wanting express that love but not being sure how?? (Take as long as you need to write it no pressure cncncn)

ANON I WROTE IT AND I HOPE YOU LIKE IT! IT IS SWEET FLUFF and I really like how it turned how but yee I hope it is okay, especially the ending anyway here’s the story! :D 

Love was an overwhelming,  pink tsunami that dragged you out to sea in its foamy claws and swallowed you whole. It left you trapped in an underwater world filled with butterflies that swirled into your stomach and nestled there. You were shocked by heart shaped eels and they sent  jolts of electricity down your spine. Love is torture, sometimes, people say, but all the people who’ve said that forget what it’s like to be in love. It doesn’t feel like torture, and it never should. When those eels electrocuted you it felt like your whole body was laughing, and when those underwater butterflies emerged from the deep, it felt like they left playful kisses inside you.

 People have said  love is torture because it’s so overwhelming, so joyful, and for the first time in your life, you felt it. 

You wanted to show Eric and Dark that, wanted them to see how you felt-- how they made you feel, like you were full of blooming flowers and sunshine. You wanted them to know-- but how could you? There were so many things they did for you! Dark would always give you roses, and candy, or he’d give you sweets he brought from the bakery, or just little tiny antiques he’d thought you like. Eric was much simpler, he cooked breakfast for you, or cleaned the house when you were feeling down, and sometimes, he’d just go outside for a while and come back with a hand full of wildflowers. What gifts could you buy, or make, or find to compare to those? 

There was always psychical affection, but when it came to them, it seemed that for every kiss you gave them, they’d come back for a thousand more! What could you do for them? Where would you even start? Maybe with kisses and hugs? Or flowers? Or maybe you could go to the bakery and get their favorite? Or.. you huffed in frustration, before throwing your phone onto the mattress you sat on and flopping down onto it. What could you do? The anniversary was a week away, and you didn’t know what to do. Dark had a restaurant reserved already, and all of you were supposed to go out to lunch on the anniversary, and Eric said he was making a special morning breakfast-- you were responsible for dinner. 

What could you even do? You sighed, before deciding to google some ideas for dinner. You picked up your phone, turned it on, and then went online. There wasn’t much, nothing was enough! You groaned, before deciding to go to your gallery, thinking that maybe you had some recipes saved there, but instead, you found..a lot of pictures and videos of you, Eric and Dark. You thought for a moment, a foggy image of an idea starting to form-- you needed to save those photos to a hard drive, but you kept forgetting! Maybe you could do that, no wait! You should print them instead! Duh! It would make a great anniversary present, and you could always figure dinner out later, anyway! 

Getting up, you grabbed your wallet and keys before heading to a local store, which luckily had a machine where you could print photos on your phone. You went out the door, to the car, and drove. Once you were there, you entered the building, taking in the white tile and the stocked shelves, before noticing the craft aisle. You..you could make a scrapbook-- no, scrapbooks! Why didn’t you think of it sooner? Eric and Dark would each have their own! You rushed over, grabbing an orange photo album and a black one, before loading up on stickers, colorful paper, paint, markers and glitter glue. You put that all in the small cart before going to print your photos (which..cost a lot, surprisingly) you then went around the store,buying a polaroid camera and two boxes of film. Then, you paid and went home, stashing the supplies under your bed. 

The week passed by in a blur of late nights, coffee and energy drinks, cutting up construction paper, kitten stickers, glitter glue, paint stained clothes, and ink stained hands, but the day arrived, and by that time, the albums were done. You also ordered a projector, which also conveniently arrived on time. 

You awoke on the special day to the smell of bacon. 

Unwrapping yourself from Dark’s arms, almost rushing out of the room, before you realized you forgot your polaroid camera. You grabbed it and adjusted the settings, making sure it wouldn’t flash by taking a picture of Dark sleeping. You then went to the kitchen, where Eric was calmly making breakfast and brewing coffee, even making homemade muffins as he hummed through the kitchen, flipping pancakes. He saw you and smiled. 

“G-good morning!” You gave him a sleepy smile, “Good morning Eric.” 

He turned his back towards the stove, where you took a quick picture, you then turned away, hid the camera in the big shirt you wore, and then let the picture develop, before managing to hide the pictures you took  underneath the coffee table, where the scrapbooks lay. You then scurried to the table, sitting at the comfy loveseat you three often used. 

Dark then came into the kitchen, his hair a mess, “Good morning..” You chuckled, “Good morning sleepy head.” “G-good morning Dark!” Said Eric, turning off the stove and getting the muffins out of the oven, he then served three big plates for all of you, stacked with pancakes, eggs, and bacon. After that, he grabbed three cups of coffee before sitting  in the middle of the both of you, receiving kisses on his cheeks as he did. 

“Thank you for breakfast!” You cooed, giving him another kiss on the cheek, before reaching over for the syrup on the table, and pouring it all over your pancakes. “Thank you for breakfast, darling.” Said Dark softly, before giving him another kiss on the cheek you managed to somehow snap a photo of the two before hiding your camera again. 

After that, you all were so full that you just.. Ended up going to bed and watching movies till lunch time came, Eric was in the middle again, and cuddling next to Dark, who was petting his hair gently. After the third movie, you noticed that.. They were both asleep. You smiled, before taking the camera out again and taking a quick picture. You then snuck out of the bed, going to hide the picture you took once more. 

You all got dressed in fancy clothing before going into Dark’s car, and driving to the place. 

When you arrived, you were greeted with the sight of a fancy building surrounded by trees, the outside looked like a mansion, and you could see the multiple chairs and fancy tables inside. Dark took both of your hands and led you down the path, going to a waiter and saying his name, after that, you all were taken to a private section of the restaurant and then sat down at an exquisite table next to a window, where you could see a view of a beautiful garden. After ordering a fancy version of your favorite meal, Dark ordered a steak and fries, while Eric ordered chicken fried  steak topped off with gravy and with potatoes. 

The three of you ate in relative peace, talking and chatting, going over memories. After the meal was done, Dark whispered something in the waiter’s ear, they then left, going to get something. After a few minutes, they came back with two huge bouquets of roses and two boxes of chocolate. You were given a box and bouquet, while Eric was given the same. You both smiled at Dark and thanked him, which caused him to smile as well. 

After the roses, you all ordered dessert and chatted more, laughing-- your boys smiling, you managed to take a few secret pictures, since you took a handbag with you, you got the pictures and hid them once more, along with the camera. Then, once the deserts were eaten, you all went home. You felt nervous as you did, but you hid it the best you could, talking and chatting with them as you did.. You hoped they would like dinner.. You just decided to order from their favorite restaurants, and then also order a custom cake from a local bakery, which was also going to be delivered. 

You immediately got to work setting up the bedroom by telling Dark and Eric you were going to take a quick nap, which was a lie. Instead, you decorated the ceiling with string lights, fixed the bed up, and hung a sheet on one wall, using bluetooth to connect the projector to your phone. By the time you were done sprucing the room up, the doorbell rang. You rushed to answer it, wallet in hand, as you gave the deliverers their money, taking the four bags. You got French cuisine for Dark and some good ol southern food for Eric, while also getting your favorite and a pizza too. Just in case nobody wanted the other food. Five minutes after that, the cake came. It was chocolate, and wonderfully decadent. You even had the top decorated in gold, with happy one year anniversary-- here’s to making more memories! Scrolled on top. 

You set up all the food in the bedroom and put the cake on the desk. You then made sure the projector was working. After everything was set up to your liking, you lead Dark and Eric into the bedroom, told them to put on their pajamas, and then went to go get your scrapbook. You scrambled to peek underneath the coffee table, getting the scrapbooks and grabbing your handbag, you fished out all the pictures and camera before rushing off to the bedroom. 

You came inside to the sight of Eric and Dark wearing matching pajamas, you smiled at how adorable they looked. 

“Don’t look at these until I’m done changing!” You said, placing their gifts on the bed before going into the same pajamas they were wearing. Once you were done, you grabbed the scrapbooks, and sat in the middle of them, before giving them each of their scrapbooks, Eric’s was a soft orange, covered with cute stickers of kittens, puppies, and other baby animals, along with flowers, you then gave Dark his, a dark black book, covered with cute little kitten stickers and roses as well. 

They looked at you in surprise, and you smiled shyly, your cheeks heating up as they opened their photo albums. 

Eric gasped softly, “I-it’s the selfie we took on our f-first date together! And look! It’s us at the p-park! And at d-disney land!” 

Dark looked at his, and you glanced at him, noticing the smile on his face, as he pointed at a photo of him with a dog filter on, “I thought I told you to delete that.” You smirked, “And I thought I told you I wouldn’t delete it!” 

You all laughed and smiled at the colorful, lovingly made, albums, pointing and laughing at memories as you did. Pictures of Eric and You in messy clothes, covered in flour, brought up the memory of you and him trying to make Dark a homemade cake. Another photo had Dark and Eric cuddling on the couch, another was at the beach, of you and Dark playing in the water-- there were so many, many memories. All of them happy. You held the photos from today in your hands, Eric smiling at the stove, Dark kissing his cheek, the food you ate this morning and at lunch, the garden outside the restaurant..you had so many happy memories. 

“Darling, these..are wonderful!” Dark whispered, rubbing his finger over a picture of you and him, which was surrounded by the date (thank goodness for your phone, or you wouldn’t have remembered it) and the occasion, all written in beautiful cursive. The page was also filled with stickers and glitter, and pieces of construction paper cut into hearts. 

Eric meanwhile, was looking at the scrapbook with tears in his eyes, before sobbing out, “I-I love it!” and giving you a hug. You had put so much work into it and he loved it! You scribbled lyrics from his favorite song, and even the lyrics of the first song you danced to together! He couldn’t help but cry! You even put baby duck stickers! He loved baby ducks! 

You hugged him back, smiling and almost crying yourself, feeling so, so happy! 

You sniffed, and then turned to the projector on the floor, before turning it on and going to your gallery, where all your videos were. You selected one, playing a home movie. It was of all of you, having a mini sleepover together, laughing and giggling as you started a pillow fight with Eric. 

The next video played, featuring you snickering in the background as you caught Dark and Eric kissing, and teased them. Dark ran after you, which caused you to shriek. The next one was of you and Eric pranking Dark, mostly you, though. You tickled his nose and put whipped cream on his hand as he slept. He ended up with whipped cream all over his face. Videos of all three of you played, happy memories, wonderful memories-- full of giggles and kisses, laughter and cuddles, pull of pure pink waves of love, the happiest moments. 

The last one was of you, talking to the camera, “Happy anniversary, you guys-- I-I um, just wanna thank you for making this the best year of my life,” both video you and real you teared up as it played, “I’ve never been so happy before,even when times got hard, and we got into arguments.. I was still happy, because I had you.   I want to thank you for that. Here’s to another year-- no, another ten years! Happy anniversary, Dark and Eric, I love you.” Then, you brought a hand to your lips and blew a kiss to the camera, which caused them to chuckle, teary eyed.

Then, the video cut off, and they both looked at you, Eric was crying while Dark tried to hide it. They both hugged you, giving you a kiss on the cheek. 

“I lo-love you so much!” Eric sobbed, “I love you both so much.” A few tears slipped out of Dark’s cheeks as he hugged the both of you, “I love you both so much.” 

You smiled, looking at the both of them, “And I love the both of you. Happy anniversary!” “Happy anniversary!” They said, before giving you a kiss on the cheek. 

Dark sniffed, crossing his arms, “Enough of this sappy stuff. Let’s eat.” 

You and Eric giggled, cuddling close to him and opening up the food before digging in. You put on a movie as the three of you cuddled, gorging on food as you did. After dinner was done, you opened the cake up, and you three each got a slice, when everything was done, you all were too sleepy to put it up. Dark ended up snapping his fingers, and everything disappeared into the fridge, he also turned off the projector. You all cuddled close together in the cozy blankets, exchanging kisses and going over memories until you fell asleep in their arms, the happiest person in the world.

[jaimesam]

Sawtooth

We woke up on the morning of our fourth day in the Sawtooth wilderness feeling spry. It can take a day, or two, or three before the rhythm of backpacking— wake up, wolf down some instant oatmeal, slurp up some instant coffee, shoulder a 35 pound pack and start the day’s climb—begins to feel right. This was our morning.

A miracle: the skies had truly cleared of wildfire smoke for the first time since setting off from Grandjean. Good timing, too: our day ahead would be perhaps the best of the trip — up and over Cramer Pass, beneath “The Temple,” down past the Cramer Lakes and up again to Alpine Lake, reputedly a gem. We hit the trail with bounce in our step.

Three, four, five miles into our hike we were still having fun, even as we began to wonder — was it possible that Hidden Lake was, in fact, so hidden that we wouldn’t see it from the trail? When would we hit the killer climb up to Cramer Pass? Slogging through overgrown brush and clambering over deadfall — all of which felt oddly familiar — we encountered a group of five friendly outdoorsmen from Seattle.

“Morning.”

“Afternoon.”

“Am I right that we’ve got a climb ahead?”

“Oh no, it’s all downhill from here.”

“Hmm.”

“Where are you trying to get to?”

“Well we were aiming for Cramer Lakes…”

“Oh you’re a long way from there. This trail goes down to Grandjean.”

“Oh my god.”

Jaime caught up.

“We took a wrong turn.”

“I thought so.”

“It’s a bad one.”

“How bad?”

“The good news is that we’ve been making great time. Covered a lot of miles.”

“And?”

“That lake was Elk Lake. This is the trail we hiked in on our first day.”

“How…”

“Five miles ago. Missed a turn.”

“God damn it.”

“Actually more like five and a half.”

Oh yes, there were signs. Including literal signs made of actual wood. Two of which we somehow blew blindly past, and a third: seen but egregiously misinterpreted. Also the creek we had crossed thrice, which, had we been paying close attention, we might have noticed was flowing in the wrong direction. Or beautiful Smith Falls, which we had passed two days before. Or the 2.4 miles of the South Fork of the Payette Trail we had hiked on day one — the most grueling and unattractive stretch of trail we had yet encountered — you would think we might have realized something was amiss. And yet.

“We could just hike out.”

“It would be eleven more miles.”

“So we backtrack.”

“Five and a half. Uphill.”

“We’re spending an extra night out here, aren’t we?”

“I think so.”

“Do we have extra food?”

“We have enough food.”

“I hate this.”

So we backtracked. An eleven mile detour, all told, with 1500 feet of elevation lost and then gained agin, for no reason, on unremarkable, overgrown, valley trails with views of nothing but dense forest, overgrown with scrubby mountain brush. The last few miles, a steady and grueling climb, brought us back to where we had missed our first sign, six hours before. We collapsed at the intersection, refilled our bottles, and snacked on salami — the promise of which was all that had gotten us up the hill. Mosquitoes and black flies swarmed, and the sky, which had begun the day clear, turned a pinkish gray as wildfire smoke began to dim the sun again.

“Why do we do this?”

“Good question.”

Onward to Hidden Lake, not so hidden after all. After dragging ourselves over 14 miles — 3 miles of forward progress from our last camp — we collapsed on a grassy shoreline, and rinsed our scratched and bruised bodies in the glassy frigid water. The lake sat beneath two pointed cliffs, side by side — one of red stone, the other gray— and the sun set early in the narrow valley. Trout jumped, snatching flies from the water’s surface, and pair of mergansers jetted around the lake, snatching the fish in turn. Exhausted, we fell asleep listening to hermit thrushes whistling their fluting ethereal song over the quiet rush of cascades tumbling down the cliffs, filling the lake.

We woke up, wolfed down some instant oatmeal, slurped up some instant coffee, and began the day’s climb. Up and over Cramer Pass, beneath “The Temple,” a tower of red sandstone capped with a knobby monolith that might well have been the icon of some desert religion. We descended again to the three Cramer Lakes, each one cascading to the next, down further to cross a rushing stream of snowmelt and spring water. We dipped our hats and bandannas in the almost-freezing water to drip down our necks and backs in the hot afternoon. Then we’re climbing again, this time twice as high, twice as far, to Alpine Lake, a pristine tarn carved into the side of the slope, a fine place for a salami break. Then higher, sweating our way up to the day’s second pass. We looked down on the Baron Lakes, where we would camp for the night, and across the lakes to Warbonnet Peak and Monte Verita, grey and purple in the late afternoon shadows.

“This is why we do this.”

“Yeah.”

One reason, anyway. The most obvious reason. If you did a survey of the people who somehow ended up at the top of the pass above Baron Lakes, this would be the number one reason cited for braving the insects and the varmints, dealing with the aches and the rashes, and slogging up a mountain with a heavy pack: the views, the vistas, the landscapes, the panoramas. The drama of the mountains. It’s like cooking your own meal — it tastes better when you’ve worked for it, earned it, done it yourself. The view from the pass is more beautiful for the sweat and exertion dragging your body and your pack up the climb.

We got more the following day as we descended from the Baron Lakes, our final day on the trail. An oceanic valley opened up beneath us, ringed by steep cliffs and rockslides of red and grey and purple, Baron Creek turning into a 30 foot waterfall. You can’t find this outside the mountains, this sense of three-dimensional space. Of looking down a valley two miles wide as it falls away from your feet, three thousand feet down. Like standing in the greatest of civilization’s cathedrals, but one with enough open space to park a carrier group, with more room for a fleet of attack submarines below.

After five nights and six days, we have become the land. Smeared with the dust of an arid country, we blend in with the rock and dirt. And despite our daily dips in the alpine lakes of the Sawtooth, we smell like it too. That first shower will feel great. The first meal — Jaime’s been fantasizing about a tuna melt and French fries, Sam has been inexplicably craving pancakes — even better. This is also why we backpack. It feels awfully good to have done it.

More than just the relief and indulgence of returning to civilization, a week in the mountains offers a welcome reset on city life. I am a city person. I like living in a density of people, living within a stroll of most everything I need, nearby neighbors and friends. But I crave the balance offered by nature, by a week in the woods, a month in the mountains. We’ll return feeling refreshed, glad to be back, awed by the commonplace luxuries of modern urban living: a world’s worth of cuisines, at my doorstep in 20 minutes; humanity’s complete works of recorded music, in my pocket. We’ll be very glad to have done it, for all its ups and downs. And, more immediately, we’re glad to be done.

“I’m sore.”

“Me too.”

“My blister just popped.”

“Ew.”

“I feel great.”

“Me too.”

Leaning on the car, we ease off our boots. The horseflies are back at this lower elevation, and their buzzing takes us back to last week when we tightened our laces and adjusted the straps on our pack in preparation for starting our trip. We had arrived at Grandjean just a few hours behind the first wave of wildfire smoke. Hiking in July, we thought we’d beat the wildfires to the punch; no such luck. So we started our hike in a haze - literal and figurative - wondering if we’d be walking up mountains for 54 miles with the reward of smoggy vistas waiting at the passes and peaks.

The first day’s hike didn’t lift that haze. The trail was overgrown, not often used, with deadfall lying across our path requiring us to clamber over dead trunks or bushwhack through brush to get around. Horseflies dogged us, buzzing and biting. As we climbed, sweating, copses of trembling aspen yielded to a forest of ponderosa pine, white spruce, douglas fir, and horseflies yielded to mosquitoes. Six miles up the trail, we encountered two fellow hikers, who informed us that the first good campsite was another eight miles ahead, and that they were churning out 20 miles in a day to get out of this godforsaken wilderness pronto. Terrific.

Fortunately, they were wrong, and we soon found a very fine place to pitch a tent next to a small waterfall. The Payette River’s headwaters split and cascaded down on either side of a great red rock, and every few seconds, the waters surged and a shower of snowmelt would surge over the rock itself, spraying into the air.

A western tanager — electric yellow body, reddish head, and jet black wings — flitted through the campsite. So did chipmunks, rushing around frantically to spread the good news that a pair of slovenly campers had finally arrived, and the summer’s harvest was here at last.

“Look at the cheeks on that little guy.”

“He’s just dying to fill them up with our trail mix.”

Joke’s on us. His cheeks were already full. We turn around, and our bag of trail mix has been chewed open, our week’s supply of almonds, cashews, chocolate, and cranberries pawed through and looted.

“Oh no!”

“Tou thieving little bastard! You bandit! Son of a bitch!”

He was long gone, and presumably the life of the party in whatever chipmunk den he had retreated to. Not wanting to contract whatever rodent virus the chipmunks might have left on our nuts — and not wanting to reward their banditry — I fed our entire supply of trail mix to the fish, swearing profusely as each morsel washed downstream. We have enough food without it, I think.

Our second morning, we awoke to what appeared as a fine morning mist; the pines in the middle distance enveloped in a grey cloud; the ridgeline hazy. But central Idaho is a dry country, this time of year. There is no mist. The wildfire smoke has thickened, and an image of peace transforms to a vague and grim picture of threat and foreboding. We shoulder our packs and resume the climb; eleven more miles on the trail, plus half a mile vertically.

As we walk we get our first glimpses of sawtooth silhouette. Steep rocky cliffs capped with jagged ridgelines, hazy and dark in the smoke against the grey sky. We cross a cold stream, boots off, sandals on, almost knee deep in the rushing icy water. We stop to rest — our first salami break of the trip! — beside Smith Falls, a roaring cascade.

“Do you have the hand sanitizer?”

“I thought you had it.”

“Nope.”

“Where’s the soap?”

“Packed with the hand sanitizer.”

“We’re disgusting.”

The day has gotten hot, and our final mile is a savage climb, switchbacking up the rough talus slope of Mt. Everly. Closing in on 9000’ feet of elevation, we stop to catch our breath every few steps and soak in the panorama behind us: smoky and grey, but astounding nonetheless, with miles of views into wilderness valleys ringed by sawtooth ridges.

Finally, we climb high enough that a lake reveals itself as a sliver of blue, and then it’s at our feet. Everly Lake is a sapphire droplet, water clear to the bottom, the gently rippling surface sparkling azure in the late afternoon sun. It sits beneath the east face of Mt. Everly, a scree cliff dropping a thousand feet to the water’s edge, across from where we set up camp. We haven’t seen another soul all day, and we have this lake very much to ourselves.

Why do we do this? An interesting question because, in case it’s not obvious, backpacking trips involve a considerable quantity of suffering. We do it for the satisfaction and rejuvenation of completing a trip, certainly. And obviously the views — even when they’re gray and hazy. But this — this is really why we hump heavy packs up rocky cliffs, put up with clouds of insects and wildfire smoke, endure blisters and aches and altitude sickness. There is freedom in solitude (dual solitude, in our case), and real solitude is a hard thing to come by. Hot and sweaty and ragged from the climb, I splash into the glass-clear snowmelt of Everly Lake, naked as a wild animal.

When telling people about our big trip west, our route through Wyoming, Idaho, Montana, the most frequent first response was “ah, you’re doing the parks.” Meaning the National Parks, those natural American wonders with scenic byways leading drivers to the parks’ iconic sights, visitors’ centers full of gifts and amenities and fun facts, and influencers dangling their immaculate bodies over sheer cliffs to rack up the likes. Not so. We are, in fact, avoiding the Parks at all costs, instead seeking solitude in forests and wilderness — the likes of the Sawtooth.

In March, we took a trip to Great Smoky Mountain National Park, hoping to hike and revel in some of the finest scenery you’ll find east of the Mississippi. The joke was very much on us. Day one, we spent two hours in the car, inching toward a trailhead, in a miles-long snake of cars and trucks and RVs. In July and August, Yellowstone National Park transmutes from the largest national park in the lower 48 into the biggest parking lot on the North American continent. People sleep in their cars on the road to Zion, in the hopes of snagging a shot at a sunrise selfie.

It’s been fifty years since Edward Abbey wrote Desert Solitaire, which I’ve been reading on the trail. The book is an account of his summers as a ranger in the park that would eventually become Arches. He lamented road-building in National Parks, and proposed banning cars altogether, a fine idea. Many of our Parks did alright for decades, even with their roads and scenic byways; today’s plauge, clogging those roads and viewpoints and even some of the trails, is known as Instagram. The secret is out about the natural beauty of the American west, and the hoards have flocked.

Of course, not everyone out here in nature is seeking solitude. That’s fine. Certainly, every person has a right to see and experience earth’s great wonders. But even for the casual nature tourist, I would posit that the Grand Canyon would be better enjoyed with enough room to swing one’s arms. What to do about it? Who knows. The French are de-marketing their national parks, advertising the flaws and shortcomings of the country’s great natural sites; another fine idea, maybe there are others. At any rate, Abbey is lucky to be dead; the sight of hoards of selfie-snappers crowding for the perfect pic at Mesa Arch would kill him over again.

For those who do seek something approaching solitude, it’s harder and harder to find. We’ve avoided the National Parks, but even many of the forest campgrounds are full beyond the brim. We’ve spent evenings driving around the backwoods, trying in vain to find a good place to camp that isn’t already clogged with RVs. And I’m not here to tell anyone how to enjoy nature, but I am here to tell you that the RV is a blight upon American wilderness. Pulling into a campground in a forgotten corner of the Black Hills, and listening to a fleet of generators run for hours is, shall we say, irritating. If your idea of exploring America’s natural beauty involves parking a bus that costs as much as Lamborghini in the woods and running a generator 16 hours a day to keep your A/C running and your TV on, why not save yourself the trouble — and do the rest of us a favor — and stay home?

As one friend likes to say, gazing up at a spectacular mountain view and taking a contented sigh: “We mean nothing.” In the city, it’s hard to see yourself outside the contemporary, the immediate, the urgent. Put yourself in nature, in the shadow of a great peak or at the bottom of a colossal canyon, and it becomes possible to see your ego and your consciousness in a more accurate perspective: transient, insignificant. There’s freedom in that. And peace.

The chipmunks of Everly Lake share the thieving attitude of their cousins down the mountain. As we sat absorbing the last of the orange sun’s rays, we heard a rustling behind us, and caught one in the act trying to seize our sesame crisps. Rather than chewing through the bag and filling his fat cheeks with whatever they could carry, this greedy fellow had his tiny arms wrapped around the entire ziploc bag, attempting to make off with the whole kit and kaboodle. Not today, chipmunk. We learned our lesson. Our food bag didn’t leave our sight the rest of the trip.

We awoke the next morning to the smell of a campfire burning outside our tent. Poking my head out into the grey predawn light — no campfire, just a thick cloud of wildfire smoke. The far shore was shrouded in haze, and our sparkling blue lake had turned dull; a grim sense of foreboding gripped us as we wolfed down our instant oatmeal, slurped up our instant coffee, and shouldered our packs to descend from Everly.

We hop from lake to lake through the southern Sawtooth, and, mercifully, the cloud of smoke thins as we go. Not a soul on the trail, as we dip our toes in lakes with wonderful names — Ingeborg, Spangle, Ardeth— and some quotidian names — Rock Slide, Vernon, Benedict. I regret leaving my binoculars in the car, we try to ID our avian companions anyway. Most will end up in our books as LBBs (little brown birds), curious peepers and cheepers. We do grow fond of the white-capped sparrow, which looks like it’s wearing a bike helmet and sings a song that sounds like the opening refrain of Baby Shark. Funny little fellow.

We arrive at Lake Edna, our camp for the night, and the skies have cleared. We are treated to sunset over a glassy indigo surface. We watch the sun fall behind the same mountain that it has set behind for hundreds, thousands of summer evenings previous. It’s harder and harder to find pristine nature like this, unaltered by humanity. If some other person had felt compelled to make the same hike, climb the same hill 500 or 5000 Julys ago, they would have seen the same thing, heard the same birds, enjoyed the shade of the same trees. There is magic in that.

We woke up on the morning of our fourth day in the Sawtooth wilderness feeling spry.

This essay borrows liberally and consciously in structure and style from Messrs. Edward Abbey & John McPhee.