#i got through all of season 1 and some of season 2 and my house isnt even that clean

[twenty-qs]

You know, one of my favorite under-the-radar interactions in Arcane is actually between Jayce and Vi.

On paper they have…literally nothing in common. One’s the golden boy science nerd, plastered all over Piltover as the symbol of progress, who has actively made decisions on the Council that made life in Zaun worse. One’s a bruiser who cut her teeth on the streets of Zaun, and then prison, as Piltover did its very best to forget she ever existed. They’ve had maybe, like, one actual conversation, in which Vi called him ‘pretty boy’ and Jayce looked deeply uncomfortable. But against all odds—they get along like a house on fire. I think Jayce is the only one Vi would have accepted weapons made of Hextech from; and I think Vi (and Caitlyn, but Vi came first) was the only person other than himself that Jayce would have made Hextech weapons for. They’re so in sync that they literally coordinate battle moves on the fly without needing to exchange a word. It might strike you as weird, at first. It’s just so improbable.

But it makes sense. Because the way they make decisions is almost the same—emotion. Impulse. Punch first, think later. Do what you think is right, and don’t wait for the world to give you permission, because it never will. They trust their gut and make snap decisions. And because the world of Arcane is morally gray, they usually regret it.

Which makes me think that some of the strongest parallels in this new season might actually be between Vi and Jayce. Arcane is about change. The price of change; the promises and dangers of change; and how people change, too. Vi and Jayce have been relatively stable character-wise. They change their minds about things, circumstances around them change, but at least at the end of s2e3, they’re still very recognizably themselves. Still punch first, think later. But the people around them have been undergoing extreme transformations.

Powder is now Jinx. Vi spent the entire first season refusing to see this, then failing to understand this. At the start of season 2, she still can’t reconcile the two in her mind—she can only conceive of them as literally two different people. Powder is dead. (I killed her.) All that’s left is Jinx. (I created her.) But the truth is that Jinx is still her little sister, is still the girl who was once Powder. Powder didn’t die—she changed.

Meanwhile, Caitlyn in season 2 is having a cataclysmic change because of her trauma and grief. The Caitlyn Vi fell in love with was brave, precise, determined—and fundamentally kind. She traded her gun away for medicine to save Vi’s life. She didn’t even hesitate. But now, all of that laser focus is being bent on revenge. Caitlyn has become increasingly single-minded, narrow-viewed, her world reduced to the target in her sniper’s scope. If you’re an obstacle, she’ll simply shoot right through you. She promised Vi she wouldn’t change, and then she hit Vi and abandoned her the moment Vi got in the way. Season 1 Caitlyn would never do that.

Vi struggles with change. She never seems to quite—grasp it. Doesn’t understand how the Undercity has changed while she was locked up, stagnant, an insect trapped in amber. She loves people with a sort of nostalgic glow. What the show forces Vi to reckon with is how far she’s willing to love someone before they’ve changed too much. She thinks it’s over with Jinx. She says she doesn’t consider Jinx as her sister anymore. But they are, they’re still sisters, of course they are. Jinx knows this. Jinx loves her sister, even now. Which means there might still be something in her for Vi to love too. But with Caitlyn, is there anything left of the kind girl who gave Vi her freedom and treated her with compassion? Can Vi still love the dictator literally waging war against her people? Should she? (Could she even stop loving Caitlyn if she wanted to?)

Jayce’s arc is just beginning in season 2, so I’m not sure which direction he’s heading in. But the parallels are already showing up. Is Viktor still in there, or is he dead? (Did I kill him?) Is it just the Hexcore using his body now, a monster that must be stopped? (Did I create him?) Jayce, too, might soon be forced to decide if he can still love someone who’s changed past the point of recognition. Or whether he should.

All this is to say that I hope we get more Vi and Jayce interactions this season. And that it’s definitely not a coincidence that we got two divorces back to back.

[klucis]

So…season 4B, eh?

I’m the kind of person that doesn’t like to pile on something without suggesting a better alternative. Therefore, after reading everyone’s takes on what was done wrong and how they would have done it differently, I’ve finally decided to throw my own 2c in, too.

Before I get to ‘my version’, I must comment on some of the most glaring moments of 4B in which the bag was monumentally fumbled with JJ and Jiara.

1. All of the near death experiences of JJ falling into water. First, the villain boat night trip. Second, being left to die by Groff at the sea. HOW IS IT POSSIBLE that Kiara, JJ’s girlfriend, has 0 reaction??? Especially because we have the exact same scenarios to compare it to from previous seasons. Aka, the infamous ‘sup?’ scene from season 2 or the bike crash scene from season 3. Girlie was so worried. Now we don’t even get a hug??? It is so weird, that it pulled me out of the story. Those are not two people in love, or even two people who are friends. That’s the reaction one would have about a coworker at best.

2. JJ and Sarah almost dying at sea. John B runs to Sarah the millisecond he sees them. Kiara doesn’t even stand up??? What?! That was so bizarre I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I don’t know how to possibly read it as anything other than “I don’t care”.

3. Another peak stupidity moment - why would JJ turn his back to Groff who was just threatening Kiara with a knife? He’s always had above average survival instinct and reflexes, what was that? How about you get away from the lunatic who’s already tried to kill you once before the emotional reunion? Beyond stupid. Just out of character and bad, no excuse there.

4. JJ abandoning all of his spidey senses when road tripping with Groff and acting so incredibly out of character that it was sad to watch. Where all the trust issues go? It’s BAD writing.

5. JJ having to open his mother’s casket… literally why? What was the point. I am literally speechless. Haven’t seen this much unnecessary suffering bestowed upon a character since reading A Little Life.

Now here’s how I would have done it. The three main variables I’m working with are i) Rudy is leaving; ii) Rudy and Madison have some sort of an issue and need to touch as little as possible; iii) Netflix demands a fifth season.

1. As much as I loved the slow burn of Jiara in the first 2 seasons and even the 3rd, given the actor drama, clearly it’s impossible to have those two as a couple. So during the 2 years time jump have them give the relationship a try and ultimately decide that it can’t work. Continue on the season 3 line of JJ being freaked out about letting Kie that close and ultimately she’s afraid to lose him as a friend and mess up the group dynamic too, so they call it quits. When we meet them after the time jump they are no longer together, but there are lingering feelings communicated through stares + the awkwardness between the actors (which we all felt) would work in favour of this plotline if interpreted as ‘it’s awkward to touch you / be near you, because we have crossed that line and maybe a part of me still wants that’. It would also work perfectly well with JJs other plotlines and the sense “that everything I touch turns to shit”. No romantic touching really has to be involved at all. Drama averted.

2. Turn up the volume of the found family trope. My jaw dropped when we got that 6second scene from the Pogelandia house with the Pogues cooking and JJ eating pasta off the wall. We needed more of that! Why didn’t we get more of that?! Maybe have that be the first year in the house when everyone was coupled up and it was “perfect”, then followed by Jiara break up and things getting rocky financially. This strengthens the idea that “good things don’t last” for JJ.

3. I think I would keep Luke as JJ’s real father but have him think that the mother chose Groff and was going to raise the baby as theirs. Have Luke really love the mother but also be incredibly resentful that she ‘didn’t chose him’, which he projected on JJ, who also looks like his mother. Then have JJ and the audience learn through Groff that actually the mother was about to leave Groff for Luke. When JJ learns of this he might go somewhere and notice a happy family of three and think of an alternate universe where that could have been his family. This could be nicely integrated with Sarah pregnancy storyline too. All this gives JJ the feeling that everything about his life was already decided when he was a baby and there is no point to his actions anymore.

4. Throughout the season, put emphasis on JJ being the last surviving heir and make it clear that while he is alive Groff will want to kill him so that he inherits all. Thus, JJ has to disappear for a while. Let’s also not forget the murder charges against him and everything. It is clear that JJ has to disappear to protect himself and his friends and to have a chance at having a full happy life in the future. In a way, JJ still sacrifices everything - can’t stay in his town, in his house with his friends/family, can’t figure out whether there is anything left between him and Kiara, etc. But he is alive. Get the tearful goodbyes and everything.

5. Then season 5 is still getting back at Groff and the Pogues making sure that JJ has a chance to come back. JJ is completely off the grid. Then at the very end, possibly after another time jump, have the Pogues be summoned by the new mysterious owner of Goat Island and learn that in fact part of it is being turned into a nature reserve. Surprise, surprise, once the Pogues get there, it turns out that JJ is the new owner and voila we get a happy ending after all the crap. Maybe throw in one more ‘Stupid things have good outcomes all the time’. Plus, have one last Jiara hug + a “Welcome home” + a loaded look implying that the year/s apart have shown them that they do belong together. Film it before Rudy leaves or negotiate him coming back for that one final episode. If thats not possible at all, then pull out the alleged body doubles and make do.

That’s my take on the situation. JJ deserved better, the story deserved better, we deserved better. This turn of events was tragic.

[raecaw]

hhhhthinking abo

thinking about tecna at work too

i think i hauve covid

[rieamena]

totally (not) beating the allegations

best friend!takuma ino headcanons

contains... best friends to lovers, mutual pining, casual confession of love, kisses (platonic), kisses (romantic), modern au, high school to university au, living together-ish, fem intended reader, pet names (baby, babe, love, sexy, handsome, beautiful, sweetie, the list goes on and on), lots of physical touch, nicknames (you call takuma, kuma.), reader has a mother and a father, y'all are basically dating just without the label...

word count: 2.3k (this wasn't supposed to be long. i told myself 0.8k maximum...)

riea's comments: all sixteen people living in takuma city RISE UP! i miss my husband of 35 years so much, come back to me loml :(( something to munch on while y'all wait for the next full throttle chapter. also not too much on me if this is a drabble and not hcs idk the difference :))

first off... i just wanna say that i KNOW I KNOW that ino is one of the funniest people in the jjk cast idc idc!!! if he had more screentime (and if the situation wasnt dire) my boy would be crackin some jokes!!!!

you've been friends with takuma for around 7 years, your first meeting happening in tenth grade, when your teacher paired you two up for an interview project. when time came to actually record the interviews, it was hard to edit out you two laughing uncontrollably every fifteen seconds or so

i mean, you two just had so much in common!!! same favorite color, same favorite franchise, same favorite tv show, same favorite video game; it was like yall were the same person. there was just one thing you both disagreed on: whether hex code #286061 was blue or green

your argument ended up being the last ten minutes of the final video you submitted...

without a doubt, after that, you two became inseparable. in school, people would take notice of your closeness. when one of you were absent, teachers would jokingly ask "where's the other one?"

there was not a single thing you didn't do together, homework, go to the gym, gossip, eavesdrop, etc etc. so of course, you ended up applying to the same universities and when it came time for college acceptance season...

takuma invited you over, forcing you to bring your mailed letters from the eight universities. sprawling out over his lap, you took in the all too familiar sight of his room. you've been in his room more times than you've been in your own (and vice versa!)

i mean ino's been over to your place so many times that he calls your parents mom and dad. and you've been over to his house so much that takuma's mom practically jumped for joy every time you burst through the front doors with a "guess who's home!!!" so it was completely normal that you guys knew the ins and outs of each other's rooms, right?

"kuma, baby," you started with a sigh, reveling in your best friend's repetitive motions. running his hand through your hair, ino looked down at you, eyes showing that he was listening. "i'm scared, what if we don't–"

"ah-ah-ah! no negativity here!" he cut you off, pushing you off his lap and grabbing the letters you left on his desk. "listen here beautiful," takuma says, bringing a hand to your cheek, his heart swelling when you subconsciously leaned into it, "we're gonna take each other's letters, and open them," he handed you a white envelope, the logo of both of yours dream university on it, "starting with, kyōmei."

taking a well needed deep breath, you nodded. "okay," you and ino began to open the envelopes at the same time, only looking at each other when you saw the status. "accepted or rejected in 3...2...1..."

"ACCEPTED"

"ACCEPTED"

cue the mandatory silence before the screaming. "holy shit. you got in." "you got in." "WE GOT IN!!! WE'RE GOING TO KYŌMEI!!!!" you two practically flew off the bed, jumping up and down in celebration. peppering his face in kisses, you nuzzled your face into takuma's neck. "i'm so proud of us! i mean, kyōmei," you pulled away from his neck, shaking his shoulders harshly, "the kyōmei?!!!"

anyways, soon enough, you both realized that you'd have to move away, resulting in a seven hour search for apartments near the university's campus. and just as takuma was about to give up, you found a listing for units 19A and 19B, right in the heart of the city and just a five minute walk from kyōmei

and with that, it was moving day, well, days is more like it considering that the whole process took like ten days... finding cute furniture is really hard! and moving all of it is even harder!! and don't even get me started on the appliances! although, you and takuma found a way around it

like what do both of you need a microwave for? and there isn't a reason to have two dishwashers, there wasn't even a reason to have one! y'all kept your fridges though... who was gonna be banging on the other's door in the middle of the night for some cold water??

with time, it came for the highly anticipated freshman formal, an welcome event hosted by kyōmei itself, and of course, you had to go. so here you were, staring at your figure in the mirror as your best friend's large hand rubbed your shoulder, the other zipping up your black dress. "all done!" he breathed, taking a step away so that you could see for yourself. "i look so cute~" you giggled, hearing the clack of your heels as you twirled. "you do!" he paused, looking you up and down, "when did you get that dress?"

"your mom gave it to me a couple days ago! where'd you get that tux? i don't think i've seen it before," you walked over and straightened takuma's suit, as he laughed in response, "your mom gave it to me..."

"this was planned."

"this was definitely planned."

"we should send a picture in the family group chat!"

"we should!!! but, hair first!"

notice how i said family group chat, singular, not plural. and that's because there's a gc for both of your families! it's name was a mix between "ino" and your last name, since, in all seriousness, your families were close

so here you were, sitting pretty on takuma's lap as you focused on straightening the front pieces of his hair, because that's what best friends do!

"okayyyy sexyyyy," you squealed, moving out of the way so that takuma could see himself in your vanity mirror, "damnn, i look hot!" he smiled as he checked himself out, his hand firmly on your waist (to make sure that you wouldn't fall, of course!). "i knew i was fine but, did i always look this fine?" he asked, looking up at you with his big dark brown eyes, a playful smirk evident on his face. "yes, takuma. you're the sexiest man ever. just a bit of eyeliner on you and we'll be on our way, okay?"

turning back to your station, you grabbed some brown and black pencils before starting to lightly draw over ino's outer eye corner, "do men as sexy as me really need eyeliner?" a look from you was all he needed to know to shut up and close his eyes

and oh, how he loved being so close to you. not just emotionally but physically as well. like, not every duo can say that they barge into the other's apartment to steal snacks! and speaking of snacks... let me just say, there's a whole cabinet in his kitchen reserved for your favorite foods and! he keeps your favorite ice cream flavor stocked in his freezer

you, on the other hand, have a little space where you hide takuma's favorite anything. chips, gummies, takeout menus, you name it, you have it. because your best friend is oh-so-optimistic, it can be harder for him when he's just not having the best of days. which is why when you go your (not so) separate ways at the end of the day, you pack up a basket for him. ribbons in his favorite color, his top 15 favorite snacks from that one time y'all bought one of everything in a nearby convenience store and ranked them, takeout on the way, horror flicks he's been wanting on dvd because he said "its cooler that way", and a handwritten letter from you, for my kuma, scribbled on the envelope

dropping off the basket at his door and retreating back to your place, you'd press your ear against the wall separating your units, physically feeling your heart break when you heard sniffles. that was all you needed to practically fly over to his, a few boxes of tissues in hand. because that's what best friends do!

and don't even get me started on how many belongings y'all have at the other's place... like that one time takuma walked into your apartment announcing his presence, only to be met with silence. let me set up the scene for you. you are taking a relaxing shower when you hear a knock on the door followed by four more and then three more. "come in!" you called out, unbeknownst to you, ino's voice was closer than you thought

"already in here..., anyways. is my shampoo in there?"

"the one with the purple cap?"

"yeah, thanks babe!"

"wait, can you get me my towel?"

or that time when you causally opened the door to his unit (because it was basically yours too) and greeted him with a simple pat on his head before skipping off to find those jeans you thrifted

slight cohabitation aside, the university life was definitely... something. it was clear and obvious that you two were close, a blind man could see it. but close is a really really really vague word, and it's surely not the word that describes the way the two of you act. in this friendship, terms of endearment drop like rain from clouds. every. other. sentence. contains a "babe" or "baby" or "sweetheart" or "darling" WE GET IT OKAY...

and it seems like if y'all go a single day without touching each other, a bomb will fall from the sky and earth would blow up. his hands are constantly on you, his favorite places (when in public) being your shoulders and arms, and when at home it was without a doubt your waist and thighs. just imagine how difficult it must be for people speak to you both on campus when his arm is slung around you and your hand is holding onto his side. the rumors practically created themselves....

and when i say people were shocked, i mean they were SHOCKED when y'all were like "haha, no, we're not dating!!! we're best friends!" everyone was thinking: yeah best friends who FUCK. best friends who are IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER. y'all became the campus' it couple without being a couple. how does that happen??!??

however... there were a couple of people who were particularly excited to hear that you both were single. a few girls approached you one day while in the general area, asking if it was true that you and ino weren't dating. "we aren't... why?" one of the girls shifted on her feet, clearly nervous. "well... could you um... give this to him for me?!" she bowed, presenting a pretty pink envelope. you froze, staring at the item before giggling. "i see what this is about! don't worry! i'll make sure this gets to him safely!" long story short, that letter was never delivered

and on ino's side, he had some classmates pestering him about you. asking for your favorite show, candy, date style, everything under the sun. "guys, guys! she doesn't even want a boyfriend right now!" takuma shouted, even though two days prior you were complaining about how spending too much time with him was scaring all the hotties away

but let's get into the real stuff... the realization of love

for takuma, there wasn't a "wow, i'm in love with her" moment. what he does know though is that he started feeling something different for you a few months before college admission season. to him, the world was always bright with you by his side but now... it was so much brighter. it was like looking directly into the sun; it hurt but he couldn't look away, he doesn't want to look away. you're the best thing to ever happen to him, and the mere thought of ruining what you have just for some feeling—no matter how intense—isn't... right to him

and you figured it out after a dream you had one night back in high school. you dreamt of being in takuma's arms, the ones you snuck glances at when he wasn't paying attention to you. in not dream world, all you had to do was ask and he'd gladly envelop you but the vibes in this dream were different. there was tension. and it was thick. his beanie was off and thrown somewhere on the bed, your bed. looking back at him, your breath caught in your throat, "hey pretty," he slurred, drunk off tiredness. ino's called you beautiful more times than you can count; he made sure to do it at least once a week, so why... just why did this time make your stomach heat up and your heart race? you woke up with a flushed face, queasy feeling in your gut, and a deep understanding. it wasn't just platonic love anymore

"hey," you started, eyes trained on the movie in front of you, but your mind was focused on something else, "y'know how everyone thinks we're dating?" ino nodded as you reached over to grab the bowl of popcorn. "i've been thinking... maybe they're onto something..."

takuma's gulp could be heard from miles away, "wh-what are you trying to say?"

"what are we? seriously. because i can't sit here and pretend like i don't wish we were something more."

"something more like...?"

"now's not the time to be oblivious! don't you get it?! i'm—"

"i'm in love with you,"

it was like time stood still as you looked at your best friend. his face was lit by the tv screen a couple feet away, his hair was a mess, and slightly prominent dark circles were under his eyes, but... he's never looked more beautiful to you. "have been. for a long time. we've basically been dating for like four years already. four more and then we'll get married?" he flashed his signature smile

"oh, shut up," he brought your face millimeters away from his, whispering "make me." before kissing you deeply, not on your cheek, or your forehead, or your shoulders, but on your lips this time. and all the times after that too

because that's what best friends lovers do, right?

jjk taglist

@blendingcaramal @gzchaos @theamazingrain @woah-girlz @voloslobotomyservice

@kyozvy @obessionofagrl @bubybubsters @sugurusbaobei @raindropsonrwses

@c-moon20-12 @saltynanobeanie @theamazingrain @synthiiiiis @ghostlyluminarycloud

@poopyyy @supernatrualqueen @bxrbie-jadeee @laitifly @discipleofthem

@cheesecake95 @strawberry-cherrypie @makeshiftproject @magiamad0ka @ncitygreen

@stillnotherapy @oniondrip @cloudy-yyy @definitely-not-leena @kidd3ath

@atigerandabear @russianremy @ohnoitsamistakee18 @ivy-vivii @ourfinalisation

@1ndee @yourhornysister @ancientimes

[xoxo-sarah]

My Wife

↝a/n: 2,605 w/c... I like this one, guys.

↝pairing: Season 1!Daryl x wife!reader

↝warning: usual walking dead stuff, angst, animal death (mentions blood. No details), reader being sexualized?, creepy men, harassment, the creepy guy getting punched (he deserved it), cursing, protective Daryl, Merle (ew), crying, moody and soft Daryl, sassy Daryl (it's season one, what do you expect?), slightly proofread

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 10.2.24

Before the apocalypse, you'd say your life wasn't bad. You had a decent job that paid well. A husband, a dog, and a house you owned all on your own, without any help from your parents.

You had met Daryl fresh out of college. He was staying with Merle at the time. In a rush to get away from your parents, you found a rent-to-own house on the outskirts of Atlanta. It wasn't extravagant, only having 2 beds and one bath. It was still a house-your house.

The first time you went to the grocery store to stock up before you started work since the big move, an old man had hit on you. Daryl listened from afar, not wanting to cause any more trouble for you. He knew you hadn't been in these parts of town before, he hadn't seen you before.

After many attempts at shooting the guy down, Daryl had to intervene. The guy had grabbed your arm, and before you knew it, the guy was backing away from you.

“She said she's not interested.”

“My bad, man. Didn't know she was yours.” He raised his hands, grin still on his face. It was a game to him.

“So you only take no for an answer if I 'belong' to someone?” Venom laced your voice, disgust painted into the wrinkles between your eyebrows and frown lines, glaring through the guy. A chuckle rumbled out of his chest, followed by a smoker's cough that told you he had more tar in his lungs than he had sense in his brain.

“Ma'am, will all due respect-”

“I doubt anything respectful comes out of that raunchy mouth of yours.”

His grin dropped, eyes slanting in your direction. “This one sure has a mouth on her,” his attention moved back to Daryl. “She have that mouth in the sack?”

You scoffed, glancing down at the floor, collecting the words you wanted to shoot back at him.

In the time you looked away, Daryl had put the 12-pack of beer down and swung. You snapped your head up at the sound of a fist colliding with a cheek. Daryl glared, spitting at the man as he held his cheek in shock. “Give the lady some respect, prick.”

“Damnit, Dixon!” An elderly man came running down the aisle, a manager tag clinking against the pins on his shirt. Safe to say both men had been kicked out.

After checking out, you caught sight of Daryl hunched over, looking at his bruising knuckles.

“Here's for helping me.”

Daryl's head shot up, eyes flickering to the 12-pack in your outstretched hand. “Ya didn't have to.”

“You didn't have to.” He shrugged, taking the box from you.

the rest was history.

You eventually got together, then, moved in together. He supported you in your job, making jokes about you “bringing home the bacon”. The only downside was his brother.

“Damnit, Merle.”

An intoxicated Merle flopped on your couch, cackling up at Daryl. You watched from behind the couch, arms folded across Daryl's shirt draping over your form. Daryl's own top half was bare, his muscles flexing when he folded his arms in disappointment, glaring down.

“What? Did I interrupt you 'n your housewife duties?”

You scoffed, turning around to walk back to your room, the dog Daryl had gotten you for your birthday following after you. Merle watched your movement, lowly whistling. “I'd be a housewife for that piece, too.”

Daryl grabbed the collar of Merle's shirt, bringing him to eye level. “Don't talk about my wife like that.” He threw him back against the couch, “You're out by the mornin'.”

The world had gone to shit right in the middle of your workday. Everyone was running around, yelling and panicking. You tried making a beeline for your car, getting pushed and pulled every which way. The traffic was the worst you had ever seen, when you had finally made your way onto the road.

When you finally got home, the door was open.

You rushed in, looking in every room. There was no sign of Daryl besides the place being completely trashed, in a rush to leave. He wasn't there. You had no clue where he was, if he was safe, if he knew what was happening.

You cracked the backdoor open, nearly falling to your knees. A body laid on the back porch, blood dried on its way down the person's forehead. A lump of fur and blood was right beside it. A sob racked your body on your way back to your car. Your knuckles were ghostly white as they gripped the steering wheel, as you made your way out of town, away from the life you worked hard to get and worked harder to keep.

You eventually got stuck in even more traffic. Everything only got worse when your car ran out of gas.

You had to hide in the city, which was run with zombies. Luckily for you, you had found a few bodies that hadn't turned yet, stealing anything that could be used as a weapon. You were able to stay safe, hiding in an empty office building. Living off of the vending machines and what was left in the break rooms.

You regularly walked up to the roof, getting fresh air, wondering where Daryl had gone and if he was thinking of you. Sure, a part of you wanted to be mad at him for leaving without you, but you knew he had to have his reasons. Merle had to of made him run away with him when the news first got out.

While you looked over the edge, watching as dead bodies herded together, feasting on whatever had run into the city on your way up here, you saw quick movement to your left. Swirling around, you held your gun up, pointing it at the kid in front of you.

“Woah, Hey! I'm alive- I'm alive! Not going to hurt you.” The poor boy might as well have been shivering in his boots. His hands shook in the air. He was probably the third person you've seen, alive, since you squatted in the top floor. He didn't seem like the guy to kill you just to take your stuff. “Look, there's a guy in the tank down there. I'm just trying to help him.” You thought back to the sounds of pained neighing you heard when you first stepped onto the roof, but you had shrugged it off, figuring you were going insane already. No sleep and being isolated will do that to you. “C'mon, dude.” He was practically begging you to not shoot him in the head.

What would Daryl do in this situation? He wouldn't just trust anyone when it comes to survival. You reluctantly put your gun down, watching as he sighed in relief. You hid the shake in your hands when they fell to your sides, not wanting him to know you didn't want to kill him even if he were dangerous.

“We have to get down there to help him.” The boy leaned over the edge, at the tank and the 'geeks' that surrounded it.

“We?”

He looked back at you, then to the tank. “The extra help would be appreciated.”

Somehow, you followed after him, climbing down fire escapes and counting the amount of bodies in each alleyway. He was quick, but you kept up with him with ease.

He led you down the alleyway, hiding behind the trashcans and gate separating you and a painful death. “You have good aim? I need you to shoot that big guy closest to the tank.” He whispered, fixing the hat on his head.

You glanced at him, watching as he awaited your next move. You whispered back, “it's empty.” You held the gun up in emphasis. You weren't going to tell him that when it was pointed at him. He huffed, throwing his head back. “I only have a knife.”

He shrugged off his backpack, grabbing the empty gun and throwing it in there. It was useless with no bullets, and it only took up a hand, making it harder for you to climb.

“Alright, change of plans.” He grabbed the walkie, bringing it to his mouth before pressing the button. “Hey, you alive in there?”

A frantic voice broke through the static, “Hello? Hello?!”

The next thing you knew, you were running downstairs with the young boy, Glenn, you had figured out, and the guy you nearly died saving, Rick. Glenn led you two to another alleyway, before the door to the building in front of you busted open, 2 people filing out with gear and helmets on, attacking the walkers wondering in front of you.

“Lets go!” Glenn jumped over the bodies on the ground, running through the door, you and Rick following. As soon as you were through the door, you were pushed to the other side of the wall, before Rick was pushed back, a gun aimed at his face. “You son of a bitch! We ought to kill you.” A blonde woman was seething, ready to put a bullet in Rick's head.

“Just chill out, Andrea. Back off.” One of the guys who bashed the walker's head in pulled off the armor, glaring at the blonde.

“Come on, ease up.”

“Ease up? You're kidding me, right? We're dead because of this stupid asshole.” The gun was pointed at you next, “And her.” Her finger twitched on the trigger, but you were at a loss of words.

“She helped.” Glenn was ignored.

“Andrea, I said, back the hell off. Or pull the trigger.” The same guy from before stepped forward, closer to Andrea. It was silent for a second, before Andrea dropped her hand, lips quivering with oncoming tears. You took a breath, having the room to do so when a gun isn't pointed at you.

“We're dead,” Andrea sobbed, “All of us.” Her gaze moved back to Rick, “Because of you.”

You wondered after everyone as they walked through the old building, listening as they scolded rick for firing his gun.

“No signal. Maybe the roof.” The man, who was introduced as T-Dog, said, holding the walkie. Before anyone else could reply, a gun shot fired, echoing from above.

“Oh no, Is that Dixon?”

“Dixon?”

Andrea stopped her movement, looking back at you. “Yeah. What, you know 'em?”

Sadly, you were met with a distasteful Merle on the roof. He refused to tell you about Daryl-about how Merle had to drag in out of the house. About how Daryl wanted to pick you up and take you with them. About how Daryl had gone back, against Merle's wishes, and found you nowhere in the house. But you weren't told that, so the nerves in your stomach still fluttered, making you feel like you were going to vomit any minute. The only thing he told you was that Daryl was with the rest of the group by the quarry.

The nerves still fluttered even on your way to the said quarry. The thought of Merle being trapped in the roof was at the back of your mind, the thought of seeing Daryl for the first time in God knows how long, being front and center in your mind. Your leg shook with nerves as you sat in the back of the van, hitting a bump every once in a while, and knocking into one of the other people.

The van pulled up to the quarry, people piling out of the back, running to their families.

You were introduced to a woman named Carol. She was surprised when you told her that you knew Daryl. The short time she had known the man, she couldn't think of him having a soft spot for anyone, but here you were. She told you that he had gone hunting and that he should be back before dawn.

You sat around, getting to know everyone. As soon as Carol's husband raised his voice to her, you had kept an eye on him, instantly feeling protective of the woman. As she silently did for you. She kept an eye on you, making sure you felt comfortable among all of the strangers.

Night fell and there was still no sign of Daryl. You distracted yourself by helping Carol with whatever, or Dale with lookout. You hadn't told anyone much about you and Daryl. Mostly because you couldn't form a coherent sentence with Daryl on your mind. Where was he? Was he okay? Why wasn't he back? The band around your ring finger became a fidget habit. You spun it around any time the thoughts got too much.

The crisp morning air did little to wake you. You might as well have been a walker with how you sluggishly moved around camp, helping with anything, wanted to be helpful and pull your weight.

Carol handed you another pair of soaked pants, to ring the water out and hang it up to dry. While doing so, your eyes caught sight of Rick and Lori. They had been reunited. When was it your turn?

“How did you and Daryl meet?” Glancing back up at Carol, you cleared your throat to speak.

Before you could utter a word, a scream echoed throughout the camp, followed by Carl's screams for his mother.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, a few running toward the screaming, ready for the worst.

You walked behind the group, watching as Rick, Glenn, Dale, Shane, and a few others beat the walker that had made it from the city.

Dale swung down with his axe, cutting the head clean off the walker's body.

“It's the first one we've had up here.” He heaved, “They never come this far up the mountain.”

“Well, they're running out of food in the city, that's what.” Another guy, Jim, said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Branches snapped, followed by more footsteps. The guys with the weapons moved toward the sound, weapons ready.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He hadn't seen you yet.

Daryl stepped over branches, slightly taken aback with everyone standing in front of him, ready to strike.

Everyone took a step back, “Oh, Jesus.” Dale's shoulders released the tension.

“Son of a bitch.” Daryl cursed, “That's my deer!” He walked to what was left of the poor animal.

He looked how he did when you first met. Frustration clear on his brow. You had helped him get rid of the constant scrunch of his brow and frown on his lips, and here it was, making its appearance in a dramatic manner.

“Look at it, all gnawed on by this-” He kicked the headless body that laid on the ground, “filthy,” kick “disease-bearing,” kick “motherless,” kick “poxy bastard!”

“Calm down, son. That's not helping.” Dale peeped, infuriating Daryl more.

“What do you know about it, old man?” Daryl walked closer, getting in Dale's face. "Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to “On Golden Pond”?"

“Daryl.”

Daryl paused, his face dropping. He turned to the voice, his knees nearly collapsing from underneath him.

Before you could say anything else, his crossbow was dropping to the ground, followed by the string of squirrels on his shoulder. He rushed over, his body colliding with yours. His calloused hands pulled your face closer to his.

He didn't care if everyone was watching. Or if the scene made them think differently about his tough-guy thing he had going on. His lips moved against yours.

“I didn't know where you were.” He mumbled against your lips. “I tried looking everywhere-”

“I know, I know. Doesn't matter.”

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[animasola86]

🐺 A KNOT TO REMEMBER

m!werewolf x f!reader 🔥 very explicit 🔥 words: 7.6k

In search of some fresh air, you stumble through a beautifully arranged garden. The full moon shows the path, or so you think, until you find yourself face-to-face with something very large and very hairy.

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! Werewolves! Abduction! Dubcon? Knotting! Breeding! Cum inflation! Fluff? (READ ON AO3!)

A/N: This is part 4 of my CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE smut series! 1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6 This is OPTION 3 - but can be read individually, let me just set the scene.

CONTEXT: You were invited to a Halloween party in a mysterious house, dressed as Little Red Riding Hood, and on your search for the bathroom, you come to a long hallway full of doors, and you decide to go through the door at the end of it, thinking some fresh air would be preferable now.

When you walk through the door, a cold breeze passes by you, making you rub your exposed arms. It's been a mild October thus far, so you didn't bring a jacket. All you have is the red cape that gives your costume its name. Pulling it around your shoulders, you follow the short hallway to another set of doors that lead you straight outside. The fresh air is numbing, but also strangely clearing, and the deeper you inhale, the steadier you feel.

The full moon stands high in the sky, illuminating a beautiful garden before you. You see rows of neatly trimmed hedges, large flower pots and other intricately laid out plant arrangements fit for the season, broken up by either a bench or a little lamp casting additional light into the dark night, with a narrow gravel path snaking through the vast grounds.

You decide to walk off the strange feeling in your guts. With your hood over your head, you quickly feel warmer again. The low thump of the music from the house quiets down with every step you take away from it, deeper into the garden. Soon you find yourself in the middle of a maze, with hedges too high to look over, and paths just wide enough to walk through comfortably. A sinking feeling grips you as you keep walking, but everything looks the same.

Quickening your steps, you feel your heart beating harder in your chest. Good idea to walk through a maze in the freaking dark, you scold yourself, but before you can think of a clever retort, you suddenly hear a strange howling noise, seemingly far away, probably past the forest surrounding the house. It still makes your blood run cold. You stop in your tracks, listening hard, but all you can hear is your own rapid heartbeat and the gentle swish of the wind through the leaves around you, there are no animal sounds, no owls hooting, no insects chirping, no critters running about.

Just eerie silence – until another howl cuts through the night, making you gasp. This time it's much closer, louder, and without even thinking, you turn around, trying to run back to the house, knowing you shouldn't be out here in the first place. Your flight instinct is cut short when you run blindly into... something. Something solid, big, warm...

Stumbling back, you look up with wide eyes, panting heavily, and when you see what you ran into, you freeze, holding your breath, shock settling into your limbs. It's a wolf. As tall as a man. Wait, it is a man, he's standing on his hind legs, but he's got the head of a wolf, with a long snout, sharp eyes and teeth, fluffy ears and all a wolf would have, but below his wide shoulders he may just be a very hairy man, muscular, bulky even, despite the rough looking dark fur covering every inch of his massive body, very intimidating, and he also has a long bushy tail swishing lazily behind him. When he speaks, which surprises you, his voice rumbles through the air like thunder.

“Are you lost, little girl?” he asks, tilting his large head.

You stare up at him with your lips parted, too dumbstruck to process anything. “I... uh... yeah,” you mumble, eyes scanning the large figure in front of you frantically. He really is very hairy, hairy enough he doesn't even need clothes you notice. “I think... I mean... the house is right there, isn't it?”

The wolf man turns around before a low chuckle escapes him. “Not quite. You went a little too far, didn't you, Little Red?”

You blink at the nickname, but then remember your costume – and your initial disappointment that there hasn't been any wolf at the party to match your freak. Well, now you've found him, or he you. And his costume is impressive. Might just be one of those fur suits, one of the more realistic looking ones, because the way he stares down at you almost feels a little too realistic. It's not a mask, is it? But it probably is, it has to be. The alternative would mean he is a real werewolf, and you know that those things don't exist.

Right?

Swallowing hard, you take a cautious step backwards. He moves with you, his imposing body getting closer again, threateningly. You let out a scared little whimper.

“Oh, don't be afraid, little one. I won't hurt you. Not too much anyway,” he adds with a low growl that might have been a laugh. You don't feel like laughing back.

“A-are you –” you stammer, your shoulders shaking with how frantic your chest rises and falls. “A... a... you know... a werewolf?”

He tilts his head again, putting his large hands (paws?) onto his hairy hips as he watches you curiously. “What do you think?” he rumbles, licking his long tongue around his muzzle, showing off razor sharp teeth that gleam in the moonlight. Nope. That's not a mask. This is fucking real.

“Oh God!” you cry out, and in your panic you turn around and run, nothing but terror pulsing through your body as you stumble headlessly through the darkness, away from whatever monster you just encountered. In your haste to round another corner of the maze, your cape gets caught by some thorns, ripping right off you, but you keep running, fleeing into the night.

“He won't help you here,” you hear the deep voice behind you, rapid footsteps following you before you feel a rush of air that knocks you right over. Or rather it's the wolf jumping onto your back, crashing you into the hard ground beneath you. You scream in shock, the pain only registering a few seconds later when you feel your knees scraping open and your palms rubbing over rough gravel.

You squirm in desperation, wailing helplessly beneath him. His hot breath hits your nape, and you freeze immediately, stiffening in fear. He sniffs your hair, and then you feel something warm and wet along the side of your neck. He's licking you, coaxing a sorrowful whine out of your throat.

“Shh, it's alright, little one. Don't be scared. No need to run from me. Wouldn't you say we were destined to meet?” His voice vibrates through you as he presses his snout against the side of your head while his large hands rub along your sides, his strong thighs bracketing your hips, his weight pushing you deeper into the ground. “My little Red Riding Hood...” he continues, poking his wet nose against your cheek. “Weren't you looking for your wolf too?”

You can only wail pathetically, too panicked to consider his words. “Please... no...”

He huffs a warm breath against your skin. “Well, it can't be helped. Fate brought us together. You are mine now,” he says in his deep voice, and suddenly he moves back, off your body, giving you a moment to breathe, but only so long before he grips you around the waist and throws you over his hairy shoulder. At first you're too shocked, then you start squirming and struggling in his hold, gripping his fur, slapping his broad back, kicking your feet. But it feels hopeless. He is just too big, too strong, holding your thighs together with only one hand.

A deep sigh sounds from him as he walks you further into the darkness, ignoring your weak attempts to fight back. Eventually you go limp in his hold, hanging upside down as you do, quickly feeling all the blood rushing into your head, adding to the nausea you felt earlier. Your fingers dig into his pelt, and you're surprised to find it rather soft. Not as rugged as it initially looked.

It doesn't help much to focus on the texture of his fur when you suddenly feel a change in elevation as he carries you down a set of stairs. Then your world is spinning once more when he pulls you off his shoulder, unceremoniously throwing you onto the ground. You land hard, with all the air being pushed out of your lungs, groaning as you roll onto your side, raspy breaths rattling in your tight throat. Before you can take a look around, something drapes over your head.

You cry out, frantically gripping whatever fabric is blocking your vision, only to find it's your red cloak. Staring at it after you've pulled it off your head, you frown.

“Put it on,” the large wolf man tells you in his gruff voice, and you frown even more. “And ditch the rest of your clothes.”

“What?” you gasp out and sit up quickly, looking at him with wide eyes, your heart beating faster.

“Do it yourself or I'll rip them off for you,” he replies, glaring down at you.

“W-why?” you stammer, hugging the cloak to your chest protectively.

An exasperated grunt escapes him. “Why do you think? It's the full moon, and that means one of two things: one, I either find a victim to eat... or two, one to eat out and fuck senseless. I figured you'd prefer the second option.”

Your lips part in a mixture of indignation and shock. Confusion is in there too. You should have known it would come to this, why else would he have carried you away, into his lair presumably, definitely not to talk. He told you not to be scared, but that was probably just a ploy to calm you down some. You are now far from it as hysteria grows within your fluttering stomach.

It's not necessarily the prospect of sex with a stranger, but this guy is a freaking wolf. A werewolf. An animal. Isn't that bestiality or something? And don't werewolves have special... cocks? You feel your cheeks warming up badly as your mind wanders, as do your eyes, lower down his large body, but before you can look for any genitalia between all that fur, you huff a grunt and look away, shaking your head.

“Hmm, you wanna make this difficult, little one?” he growls, slowly stalking closer until he's crouching in front of you, his large hands finding your shoulders, his claws pressing threateningly against your skin. “You should consider yourself lucky I think you're too cute to eat.”

You look back at him, into those dark eyes, his long snout so close to your face you can feel the warm breath on your chin. A shiver crashes through you, and to your biggest embarrassment, there's a throb between your legs, a familiar warmth settling in your core. You press your lips into a thin line and avert your eyes again. He exhales against your face.

“Well?” he huffs.

“You... you're a wolf...” you mumble in response, squirming in his hold. “How... how's that gonna work?”

His laugh catches you off guard. “Oh, little one, don't worry. I still have all the hardware needed for this, trust me. I bet you'll enjoy it more than you think...”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you blink slowly before focusing your eyes on his large head once more. You have to give it to him. He could have just taken you, taken what he wanted, ripped your clothes off and pounded into you like the feral beast he is, but he actually seems to ask for your consent in a way, or at least gives you time to consider it, which only adds to your confusion. The worst thing about it, is that your body already knows the answer.

He suddenly moves his snout, pressing his wet nose against your neck and sniffs, and you feel both ashamed and angry with yourself that he can probably smell your arousal as well. In an attempt to distract him from it, your hands shoot up as you dig your fingers into the thick fur of his chest, trying to push him away. He leans back and watches you curiously. You're breathing harder as you face him and the things that are bound to happen.

You can't fight him, he's too strong. From what you can see, he's brought you into some kind of basement and probably locked you in as well. There's no use trying to escape. You are here now, in his clutches, and he may be a werewolf with werewolf anatomy, but he's also talking and when you ignore the large wolf head, you can try to convince your mind that he's just a very hairy man.

And you did come to this party to let loose, to enjoy yourself, to experience an adventure. You had no idea it would turn into a sex adventure, but here you are. And if the alternative is being eaten alive by a monster, than what are you waiting for? Inhaling deeply, you let go of him and move your shaking hands to the buttons of your blouse, slowly undoing one by one as you keep him in your sight, while your heart beats faster with every inch of skin you expose to him.

He leans back on his haunches, his snout seemingly morphing into a wide smile. “What a good girl,” he growls, licking his sharp teeth.

You swallow hard as you continue to strip for him, until your chest is bare and you fidget to get your skirt over your hips in your sitting position. A yelp escapes you as he suddenly grabs your waist and pulls you up, lifting you effortlessly as he stands up to his full height, holding you in front of him like a frightened kitten with your feet dangling in the air. You don't fight it anymore, you just look up at him, blushing as you notice his hungry stare wandering up and down your naked body.

He sets you to the ground again, gentler this time, then leans down to grab the cape and slowly drapes it around your shoulders, his large hands/paws fumbling to try to bind the string into a loop. You reach up, your small hands brushing against his furry digits, before you fasten the bow yourself, keeping the cloak from sliding down again. It does give you a bit of security, even though it leaves your front fully exposed to him. You should probably feel worse about this, but despite a heavy blush creeping down your chest, you try to remain as still as you can, forcing yourself to play along, not wanting to provoke him into eating you after all.

He huffs a satisfied grunt before he grabs you again and lifts you onto his arms. You hold onto his furry shoulders as you gasp softly from the sudden motion. Breathing harder, you focus on him instead of your surroundings, it would only make you want to find an escape route if you knew where he was taking you. First you have to finish this, satisfy the beast, and once he's sated and done with you, hopefully too exhausted to follow you, you could try to sneak away. That is the plan anyway.

You just hope you won't enjoy your predicament too much.

His heavy footsteps echo through the basement, and before you know it, he's throwing you down again, a little bit gentler and this time onto a softer surface, not a bed, but an assortment of thick blankets and pelts on the floor. There's even some straw beneath it all. Primitive, as you would expect from a beast snatching up random women in the night. Even though you may not have been as random as you think.

Fumbling to untangle the cape that got caught around your neck, you look towards him as he stalks closer, bent over like the monster he is, an imposing figure, a terrifying sight that makes goosebumps ripple over your exposed skin. When he suddenly prances forward, you yelp in surprise, trying to scoot back, but his large hands find your thighs, pinning you down and spreading your legs, and with your mind still reeling, you don't even have time to comprehend his next move until you feel his hot breath right against your center.

“No... wait...” you wail quietly, your hands shoving at his large head, but he doesn't budge, and when he opens his large maw and extends his long tongue, you watch him in both terror and with a strange fascination before a deep moan is ripped from your throat as you feel that same tongue lapping along your slit, parting your folds with a strength that makes you throw your head back. “Oh...”

Your fingers dig into the fabric of your cloak that's fanned out around you as you start bucking your hips up, a motion you didn't plan, it just happened, a reflex, a response to the urges boiling within you. It should feel strange to have this beast devour you like this, in a way you never expected, but it also feels too good to fight it anymore. His tongue is hot and wet and large enough to lick up your entire sex, all the way from your puckered hole to your throbbing clit. A single swipe leaves you absolutely breathless, writhing at the edge of pleasure.

He sure knows what he's doing.

And he keeps doing it until you dissolve into nothing but a mewling mess, a puddle of boneless limbs on the makeshift bed, moaning and gasping as the sensations crash through your nerves. On the peak of your orgasm he starts moving his tongue differently, pushes deeper between your folds, and before you know it you can feel it slipping into your clenching cunt, coaxing a strangled squeak out of you.

You hear and feel him huffing against you, low grunts that vibrate through your entire body, enhancing the feeling of his warm snout between your trembling legs. He moves the muscle deeper, laps at your squishy walls, presses into every crevasse he can reach, and all you can do is tilt your hips and contort before him, riding out the most intense orgasm you may have ever had. Most special one also.

Despite your mind turning into mush, filling up with cotton, you still wonder if this may just be a dream. The strangest one for sure, but still a dream. No way could you be eaten out by an actual werewolf. But when he keeps doing what he does, you soon stop caring and just enjoy the feeling. Doesn't matter. You're in for the ride now.

You don't know how many orgasms he pulls from you until he finally leans back and extracts his tongue from inside you. You barely feel it when he laps up your juices, grunting as he does so, but the moment he crawls over you, more of his big body pressing you into the blankets, you blink your eyes into focus and stare up at him, noticing how wet his muzzle looks. You feel your cheeks burning up. Somehow you have the urge to reach your hands up and pat his long snout, and you do, carefully stroking the rough fur all the way to his pointy ears, and he even hums deeply when you scratch him behind them.

A dumb little smile grazes your lips, and for a moment you wish he'd be a real man so you could kiss him, share the feeling of joy reverberating through your insides, but he has the head of a wolf and despite your blissed-out state you don't want to come into close contact with those sharp teeth. How he kept them away from your sensitive skin is still a mystery to you, but also nothing you seem to worry too much about.

He gives you a wide lick in response, his languid tongue stroke reaching from your chin all the way to your eyebrow, and you giggle and try to turn your head away, swatting at his head before wiping at the slobber on your skin. A growl like a laugh echoes from him before he shifts on top of you, strong arms braced on either side of your shoulders, his knees bracketed around your hips as he crouches over you, his shins pressing down on your wide open legs. The rough fur of his stomach rubs against your body, sending shivers down your spine.

“Look at it,” he tells you in a deep rumble, and you blink in confusion before your eyes move lower, and you see it.

It being his cock. It's huge. Bright red with a tapered tip and the hint of a bulbous protrusion near the base, fully unsheathed from within his furry groin as it lies hot and heavy on your fluttering stomach, reaching all the way up to your ribs. You swallow dryly at the sight of it. Too big. It'll never fit. Your eyes move back up to his face, and you can't help it, you shake your head no as tears gather in the corners of your eyes.

He tilts his head, opening his maw to bare his teeth as he growls low in his throat. “You will take it. You were meant for it. You'll see,” he hisses darkly, nudging his wet nose against your chin before he starts lapping at your wet cheeks as the dam breaks and you realize you may have bitten off more than you can chew. “Shh, don't cry. You'll love it, I'm sure,” he continues between licking at your face, slowly moving his snout lower, teasing down your neck until you feel his hot breath on your quivering breasts. “And I will make it fit, trust me.”

You're not sure that's a good thing. But you can't do anything against it now. You are trapped beneath him. Breathing harder, your chest moving rapidly against his relentless tongue as he laps around your hardening nipples, you try to relax under his ministrations, lying back, closing your eyes, white-knuckling the blanket. He shifts on top of you, keeping his maw near your chest as he lines his hips up with yours.

You feel one of his furry hands slipping between your legs, rubbing over your puffy labia, spreading them, coaxing a quiet moan out of you as one clawed finger dips into your hole. Your eyes flutter open again. He looks up then, watching you out of these black eyes, so intense he seems to stare right into your soul, and when he retrieves his finger, you notice out of the corner of your eye how he grips his big cock, strokes it slowly, before pressing its pointy tip between your folds.

You hold your breath, trying to relax while also bracing for his penetration, your muscles already confused as they are. He pushes in then, slowly, almost carefully, and you feel the stretch as soon as his tip disappears inside you. A groan escapes you when he rolls his hips against you, and more and more of his large cock presses into your tight channel, bullying his way deeper. You're whimpering under his scrutinizing gaze as he watches you closely, seemingly looking for any sign of distress, even though he also doesn't seem to mind it too much as you gasp and yelp in pain whenever he forces another inch into you.

His hands circle your head as he leans over you, his wet nose rubbing at your neck. “You're doing great, little Red,” he huffs into your skin, keeping that slow and steady rhythm of moving his pelvis back and forth. “You can do this. You were made for this.”

You wail in response, turning your head to the side, exposing your neck to him, but also to look away from the beast ravaging you. If you focus your mind on the feel, you can almost imagine being fucked by a very bulky man with a very thick and veiny cock, and the thought makes it a little easier. Squeezing your eyes shut as he squeezes the last inches (or so you hope) of his large member into you, you are quickly overwhelmed by it all.

Quiet sobs fall from your trembling lips. You feel so incredibly full, so stretched, his cock taking up any available space inside you. You can feel the tapered tip pressing against your cervix, poking at it as if wanting to go deeper. It's a strange hurt, a sharp pain that turns into a weird comfort, almost-pleasure, as your muscles clench around the unfamiliar intruder. For now he is just resting there, heavy on top of you, heavy inside of you, but then, he starts moving.

You squeak like a slaughtered pig when he withdraws slowly before slamming his hips back against you, hammering his cock deep into you, forcing his way through your tense muscles. He gives you a moment to breathe between his thrusts, but only for so long, until he repeats the motion, over and over again. A slow drag along your walls, a forceful slam back into your depths, out and in, pause, out and in, pause, and despite the ever repeating rhythm you yelp out every time, surprised all over again by the sharp pain crashing through your body.

And it's not just his tip bullying your deepest points, it's that strange bulb at the base of his cock that nudges against your pussy lips with every deep plunge. What's it called? A knot? You don't know much about the matter, why would you ever be interested in animal anatomy, but you wish you could do a quick google or something to ease your mind at the strange sensations. Not that it would change anything.

He keeps pounding into you, always increasing his pace a little bit, slowly taking away your little breathing breaks, until he is hammering into you with full speed, just like the feral beast that he is, and all you can do is whine and wail and moan and mewl, unable to think, unable to breathe, unable to do anything but take it. You're squirming beneath him, both trying to get away from his ruthless assault and maybe, possibly, trying to match his rhythm to make it somewhat better for yourself.

His large form looms over you, his low grunts and growls loud in your ear as he nuzzles at your neck, bent over like he is, resting on his elbows, caging you in even further. Your hands shoot up to grip at his fur, and you even raise your twitching legs to steady them as you hook them around his strong thighs. It does help to be able to hold onto him like you do, without any limb moving about bonelessly, and the longer you cling to him, finally meeting his thrusts with snaps of your own hips, it starts to feel really good really fast.

Before you know it, you're arching against him, clawing at his back, gasping and sobbing and panting as the heat gathers inside you, burning through your nerves like wildfire, setting everything ablaze, and every rapid thrust spirals you higher and higher, building up that tension in your stomach that is sure to explode at any second. When it does, you are not ready.

A shrill scream rips from your throat as you press your back into the makeshift bed and stiffen beneath him, your mouth wide open as you squeeze your eyes shut. Warmth spreads inside you, forcing its way past the rapidly pistoning cock pummeling your clenching muscles, and it's like a tidal wave, not soothing as it laps against the shore, but destructive, powerful, all-consuming. It drags you along, threatens to drown you, pulls and pushes you as you lose all control over your convulsing body.

Your orgasm crashes through you with a blinding force, letting you forget anything around as it engulfs you in sparkling lights and mind-numbing bliss. By the time it subsides slowly, you can already feel it building up all over again as he just continues to fuck you in his relentless rhythm, hammering his cock deep into you, grunting on top of you, his maw parted as he growls, slobber glistening on his razor sharp teeth, his tongue hanging out lewdly.

But before he propels you into the next orgasm, he suddenly leans up, propped on his strong arms, licking his furry lips as he stares down at you. You may look up at him out of hooded eyes but you can't really see him, just this large shadow above you, but you do feel when he suddenly leaps back, pulls out with a force that coaxes another scream out of you as he rips his large cock from between your tight muscles. You writhe a little, groaning in frustration as your orgasm deflates, as that empty feeling settles in.

Though you don't have to lament the loss of his cock for too long as he grabs your waist and manhandles (wolfhandles?) you onto your hands and knees, at least he hopes you'd stay like this, but your body is too limp to fully function, and so you sink onto your chest, arms outstretched, face buried in the soft blankets, ass raised on shaking knees, your cloak tangled around you. He grips the fabric, strangling you for a moment before he notices his mistake and rips it right off you, making you gasp.

His large hand is on your head as he turns it to the side. You can feel his wet nose poking at your cheek. “I'm gonna breed you now, little one, and you will take it all, yes?” You blink at his words, so low they're only vibrations through your head, and you wonder if you heard him correctly. “I will pump you full and keep you on my knot until it sticks, you hear me?” Clearly you didn't, because... what now?

You squirm beneath him, trying to get up on your elbows at least, but he holds you down, one large hand on your nape as he shifts behind you, his fur brushing against the backs of your thighs before he nudges his knee between your legs and pushes them further apart. You can sense the heat of his cock before it even gets in contact with your core, and when it pushes inside you again, it feels like a knife cutting through melted butter.

You cry out, arching your back, jerking your hips away, but he is ruthless. He's carved his way into your cunt, but there's still a bit of resistance before you can take him as deep as he desires. He doesn't care though, just pounds into you with hard and fast thrusts, in and out, a rapid rutting accompanied by wild panting, and all you can do is grunt and moan too, your body pushed up and down the blankets. His hands move to your waist, claws digging into your soft flesh as he drags your hips back when he slams his against your cushioned rear, forcing his cock deeper still.

Your head is spinning, your heart thundering, and slowly, the burning pain turns into overwhelming pleasure. He's bullying your cervix again, plunging in and out with languid strokes, and you're so aroused by now that the only sound aside from your heavy breaths is the loud and lewd squelching of your wet cunt. It drives you insane how good it feels to be taken like this, bent over, a primal sensation, to be at the mercy of this beast. In this position, he hits all the right spots, and it's a blinding thing all around you as you come hard, crying out helplessly, hands digging into the blankets and pelts, body spasming against him.

He grunts as you clamp down on his cock, but he doesn't stop, he even moves faster, pushes harder, forces all of him into you. And despite your orgasmic haze you feel his knot pummeling against your entrance, trying to fit through. The pain cuts through the cotton in your mind, sharp little jolts whenever he pushes particularly deep, and when those throbbing bulbs suddenly breach you, as your muscles give way to the rest of his cock, you scream, first in agony at the stretching sensation, then again as another intense orgasm rips through you.

He lets out a low howl when your tight muscles clench around him, milking him for all he's worth, before he continues to snap his hips against your rear, bullying his knot deeper. If you felt full before, you are now close to bursting with how stuffed you are. You can barely breathe between all the gasps and whines, and he doesn't let you either as he continues his shallow rutting, his growls and grunts getting louder, more frantic, his clawed fingers digging into your flesh as he holds you against him.

You are again on the edge of pleasure, floating on that wave that threatens to consume you fully, when he suddenly stills, buried deep within you, tip squished right against your cervix, your cunt holding onto his knot as if you would drown without it, and you feel it throbbing, pulsing, swelling up, stretching you even further. Lightning crashes through the clouds of bliss, making you shriek, hot tears rolling down your already wet cheeks.

And then he grunts, leaning over you, snout nuzzling against your neck, burying in your hair, hot breath fanning over your skin as he gives you those tiny snaps of his hips, and your whole body moves with those motions, connected as you are. You feel him shaking above you before you feel something else deep inside you.

Spurt after spurt of hot cum shoots into the already cramped depths of your cunt, filling up quickly, but with his knot holding it all in place, it has no choice but to look for every nook and cranny it can find, pressing through the tiniest openings, and as it does, you shudder deeply, feeling ready to burst before yet another orgasm rips through you, leaving you shaking like a leaf, as his seed breaches into your womb, more and more, with every twitch of his cock, every pulse of his knot, rope after rope, filling you up until you feel completely bloated.

Somehow you manage to move a hand beneath you, rubbing against your usually soft tummy, but it's tense and hard, rounder than you remember it, and even though you should be terrified by it, you can only lie there and take it, as the wolf man above you leans on you and pumps you as full as he has promised. His breathing eases slowly, yours takes a lot longer to go back to normal, and with your heart thundering inside your heaving chest, you feel utterly exhausted.

He licks his tongue over your wet cheek, a sweet gesture among the feral breeding act, and you can't help but give him a tired smile as you try to look at him out of the corner of your eye. He huffs against you, resting his large head on your back as he relaxes – letting his body work for him, because you can still feel him throbbing, shooting more cum into you at irregular intervals, usually accompanied by a soft little roll of his hips, a little nudge to remind your tight cunt he's still very much stuck inside you.

You wonder how long this will last. But before you can think more about this animal rite, your eyelids grow heavier and the world turns black.

You wake with a shriek as you feel a particularly hard thrust hitting your bruised and probably dilated cervix, the sudden pain crashing through you like the stab of a knife. You're no longer kneeling on the makeshift bed, you're lying on your back on his wide body, legs fallen open over massive furry thighs, two strong arms holding you tightly in their grip, squishing your tender breasts. He's switched you around, huffing and puffing beneath you as he pushes his hips up in a slow but steady rhythm.

“Again?” you groan out, trying to squirm in his tight embrace.

“Not over yet, little one,” he growls into your ear, wet nose poking at your cheek as he shifts beneath you. “More to give.”

“Ugh,” you make, your head lolling back against his shoulder. “But I'm so full...”

“You can take more,” he tells you quietly, a low rumble in the air. One large hand moves down your body, firmly pressing against your bloated stomach. You moan in response, your own hand finding his, trying to feel the same he does.

It's unnatural, that's for sure. That bump should not look and feel like this after only one load of his seed. But then again – he is unnatural, everything about him is. Who knows how special his cum is. Though you really don't want to think about it. You don't want to get pregnant, no matter how hot the whole breeding thing may be in theory. And you probably won't anyway, he's a wolf (man), it sure won't be compatible, right? A groan escapes you as you shake your head to clear it. No more thinking.

Just enjoy his warmth, the way he holds you, moves inside you, locked on his knot for who knows how long. Despite it all it feels comforting, somehow even romantic in a way, to be connected like this. Inhaling deeply, you relax into his soft but also hard body, his fur feels nice against your sweaty skin, the bulging muscles beneath exuding strength and safety. A good bed, that's what he is, with the added bonus of a truly incredible cock that fills you out perfectly, rubbing you just the right way.

Another wave of exhaustion washes over you, alongside what feels like the gentlest orgasm you've ever experienced, a little tingling sensation, a burning deep within, a soothing caress. You sigh contently, closing your eyes, falling deeper into his embrace.

When you come to next, you feel a cold breeze against your face that makes your nose twitch. You seem to move, but your limbs are still out of order, and when you slowly fight your way back into consciousness, you realize you're being carried, with two strong hands holding your thighs up while you are still impaled by that unbelievably resilient cock. A groan escapes you.

“Calm down, little one,” the wolf man grunts into your ear as he walks through the dark basement. “Almost done now.”

“Does it always take this long?” you whisper, leaning into him, your hands grabbing his wrists to steady yourself.

“For the knot to go down? Well, you are particularly arousing, my little Red, I can't help it. Seems you are my special mate after all,” he hums deeply.

You turn your head slightly to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Mate?”

“Yes, mate. I would have made you mine already, but I wanted to see how you can take me.” He inhales deeply as he presses his muzzle into your hair. “You did amazingly,” he adds, lapping at the shell of your ear. You shiver, squirming away with a surprised giggle that travels through your entire body, making you clench around his hard cock.

“Your stamina is really concerning,” you reply with a shake of your head. “Not sure I could do this again...”

“But you're still doing it, holding my knot so perfectly, keeping my seed inside you,” he huffs gently, licking along your neck as he turns around and walks back the way he came.

“Why are you walking in circles?” you wonder, moving your hands to your rounded stomach. Every movement seems to slosh its contents about. A strange feeling for sure.

“I can't keep you on it forever, I am afraid,” he says in a low rumble. “The moon is setting soon...”

You frown at his words, not even wondering what time it is right now, shifting in his hold to better look into his wolfish face. “And then what?”

“I'll turn into a man again,” he tells you, his dark eyes boring into yours. Something warm crashes through you.

“How is that a bad thing?” you blurt out, more excited about that prospect than you probably should be.

He huffs a low laugh, shaking his large head. “You wouldn't want to be near me when I do. It's painful even for me, and to have you stuck to me would be... devastating.”

“Oh,” you make, blinking as you process his words, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Let's try our luck, hm?” he then says, carrying you back to the makeshift bed.

He kneels down with you strapped to his chest like a newborn in a carry-on, and when he bends you forward, you brace yourself, resting on your hands and knees as he shifts behind you. His clawed fingers dig into your plump hips as he gives you a tentative nudge of his pelvis. You wince at the sensation, the stretch and pull on your tight muscles sending shivers down your spine.

His sigh is loud and warm around you, and apparently his knot is still too inflated to budge. Inhaling deeply, you buck your rear against him, trying to relax, ease your muscles, force his cock out of you. He seems to notice your efforts and starts pulling gently, grinding his hips, inching himself backwards. You still feel a sharp pain when his knot nudges against your tight entrance from within, but it's slowly widening, giving way, and when he pops out and slips free, you gasp and collapse on the bed, the sudden loss of pressure almost dizzying.

He lets out a low growl, his hand rubbing over your swollen pussy lips as you feel your muscles contracting around nothing, or rather the flood of cum that's bound to spill from your depths if he wouldn't hold his large palm there. He rolls you onto your side, snuggling against your back, before he pulls his fingers away, pressing your thighs together instead. His wet nose rubs against your jaw as he pulls his strong arms around you.

“Rest now, little one. Keep your legs closed,” he whispers, holding you tightly.

You're too exhausted to protest or care about any possible spillage or whatever consequences may result from this unusual coupling. None of it matters. Sleep does sound really good right about now. The wolf man relaxes behind you, his deep breaths slowly turning into loud snores, and you allow yourself to catch some Zs too. You'll need your strength. For something. Hmm. What was it again? Some sort of plan? Doesn't matter. It'll come to you. Now you just want to rest, let your body recover from whatever ordeal this has been. Knotted and bred by a werewolf. Pfft. What a silly dream...

Your eyes fly open as if someone has turned on the light in your empty mind, illuminating everything that's happened earlier. Oh. Oh God. Oh no! Your breaths accelerate, your heart beats faster as you realize where you are, in whose arms you're lying. His snores still echo through the cavernous room, your body molded to his larger frame, his arms tight around you.

Carefully you wriggle your way out of his embrace, listening closely to his rumbling sounds, but he seems too far gone to notice your frantic escape. You manage to slip from under his arms, your body aching when you move it, but you fight through the discomfort and slowly stand up on shaking legs. Immediately you feel something wet and sticky dripping down your thigh, and a quick touch to your bloated stomach tells you, you are still filled to the brim with werewolf cum. Fuck. This can't be happening.

Turning around, you see the furry beast slumbering away peacefully, his large body moving with every thundering snore. Once you got your bearings, you start looking around the room until you find some clothes. Not yours though, but a big plaid shirt that you slip into. It reaches almost to your knees, so it'll have to do. When your eyes fall on the red cloak next to the makeshift bed, you hesitate, but then you leave it behind. Let him have a small remembrance of your special night.

At least you find your shoes, and once you're ready to leave, you throw a last glance back at the monster. He's still fast asleep, and you almost regret having to leave, but you can't just live in some cave or basement with a werewolf, letting him pump you full of cum to carry his pups or whatever it is he expects of you, no matter how mind-blowing the experience has been.

Biting your lip, you turn around and try to find a way out, and surprisingly enough, he didn't lock you in. After climbing a set of stairs, you find yourself in a small cabin, and when you try the front door, it just opens. Stepping outside into the night (which surprises you, you were almost certain you were stuck on his damn knot for a day or more, or so it felt), you fight the shivers, snuggling into the large shirt that smells like him, a comforting scent that doesn't make it easier to leave.

But you do, trying to find your way through the darkness. The moon is nowhere to be seen, it may just be a cloudy night, or it really was close to setting, you can't be sure, and frankly, it doesn't concern you anymore. You gotta move on, get back to the house, ask someone to call you an Uber...

As you suddenly realize you have no idea where your purse is, you stumble onto a better lit path, but the sight of what awaits you at the end makes you shiver deeply. It's a graveyard.

1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6

You've come to a (literal) dead end. Or have you?

No, just keep going...

But you can always go back to the beginning and choose another door. Back in the hallway, here are your options:

Reach for the door closest to you.

Go through the door a few feet on your right.

Notes: I'd like to thank @moongurl95 for planting this idea into my head! Thank you so much for sharing your open-ended dream, it really inspired this whole adventure, but particularly this part! I hope I could fill in the blanks! <3

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

[thesummerpetrichor]

𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓰𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓼: 𝓣𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓭𝓸

Stepdad!Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader

Summary: The year is 1979 and it's the summer after graduation. You want to make the most of the vacation, but going to shady dance bars is a lot harder now that your new stepfather works for the DEA.

Warnings: 18+ only minors DNI you will be blocked. Mentions of DEA, cops and raids, stepdad trope and all that comes with, minor DUBCON, big juicy age gap [reader is 18/19 when she meets Javi, Javi is in his mid 40s], reader wears a dress, petnames, mommy issues ™ , alcohol consumption, mean!brat tamer!dom!Javi then soft!Javi, brat!reader, rough sex, “virginity” loss & minor mention of blood, sex in the woods on the hood of Javi’s car, mentions of F masturbation, some reader x oc, Javi gives reader her first orgasm, major size kink [Javi is bigger than the reader, can rough house with her], degradation, dumbification, reader is insanely horny, satanic levels of dirty talk, finger sucking, choking, spanking [with a belt and hand] , a few slaps [as always], fingering, unprotected P in V [be better!!], creampie. Let me know if I missed anything 🫶

Word count: 7.2k

A/N: I am impossibly excited for this stepdad trilogy. This is part 1/3 so it’s only 1/3 the fun and debauchery. Few Easter eggs thrown in.. see if you can spot em 🤭.This is set up after the events of season 2 and before the events of season 3, in a year where Javi is taking a break before Cali, but feel free to imagine otherwise. Enjoy!!

Masterlist

​​Once I had a love and it was a gas

Soon turned out had a heart of glass

Seemed like the real thing, only to find

Mucho mistrust, love's gone behind

Once I had a love and it was divine

Soon found out I was losing my mind

It seemed like the real thing, but I was so blind

Mucho mistrust, love's gone behind

You stood at the entrance, one foot tapping restlessly on the wooden floorboards. In an effort to keep your head down you fiddled aimlessly with the clasp on your watch, knowing full well you weren’t going to be paying attention to anything but the time that flashed on its face. An older, blonde woman came stomping onto the patio, swinging the wooden door behind you so hard on her way the rattle it produced when it slammed shut knocked the flimsy “BAR” sign right off. You jumped, then took another step away from the establishment.  

You could almost feel the bass of the engine thrumming in your chest as it got closer. The tires crunched against the gravel as it neared. You still couldn’t see it. You hoped it was her. 

It wasn’t long before a red convertible was nearing, the number plate sending a shaky, relieved sigh hurtling past your lips. Agitated, drunk and anxiety ridden, you ran towards and then jumped into Lorrain’s car– hoping and praying the ride would give you a beat to sober up. 

It wasn’t the first time you’d had to sneak back into your room well past midnight. It was so much of a habit you could sell a course on how to accomplish it with the utmost skill and precision. What was rare, however, was having to perform the task while shaken up so severely. The side of your small, once welcoming home seemed more alien than ever, your bedroom looking far higher off the ground than you remembered. 

Nevertheless, a few missteps and about 10 minutes later you stumbled through your open window, quickly stripping to your underwear and shoving your dirty, alcohol laced clothes under your bed. You cursed your “parents” at the fact that you still needed to do this shit like a fucking highschooler. 

The sound of feet padding towards your bedroom door startled you, and you jumped to pull on your sleep shorts before what you knew was your stepdad coming up the stairs. 

You hoped and prayed he hadn't caught wind of the way you screamed when your foot missed the ledge below your window, or worse, that his partner hadn’t given him a call to inform him of the familiar face he saw at the shack that night. 

No matter how many times you liked to imagine he would bend you over his knee and discipline you, how many times you imagined it was him with his hand under your skirt or head between your legs as some clumsy 20 year old rutted against your thigh, you knew full well if Javier actually ever caught your antics, the consequences were going to be a whole lot less ideal than that. 

As you jumped under the covers you recalled the way Agent Steve Murphy had cocked his head at you back at the bar. The way your stepfather’s partner had squinted his eyes at you in confusion, doing a double take at your skimpy outfit, short dress and boots, the way the men at the bar had their hands all over you. 

You prayed it wasn’t too late before you turned your head away, that it wasn’t too late before you swiftly moved out of that bar, before he could be sure it was you he was seeing. 

Because if he was, there would be absolute hell to pay. 

—

One summer, when you were maybe eight or nine, you developed an absurd obsession with riding your bike up the slope that led away from your small town. Eventually, the uphill roads veered away, twisting and turning into a thousand different rocky paths that converged at one point only a few hundred metres from the large sign that welcomed people into the town. The singular, welcoming road led straight into the woods. Back then, it seemed endless, providing a warm, hospitable buffer for the hills that loomed over the town with a somewhat protective intimidation. Like the woods were watching over your every move. 

Everyday, for three months, you’d bust out your front door at 18:00 on the dot and make the journey uphill. Exhaustively pushing your bike past that sign and into what was nature's much welcome respite from your mothers neglectful cruelty. You collected rocks by the stream that ran through those woods, leaves and flowers to keep in your room. It was like they were magic. Like they wanted to get to know you, be your friend. The trees formed a canopy over you, like they wanted to shield you from the winds and the setting sun, and most importantly from the town below. 

One day you remember hearing some rustling coming from up the stream. You didn't think much of it, must have been a deer or something of the sort. You continued foraging for little flowers and rocks, that was until you came across something that didn't really belong. A piece of white lace. It looked new, but dirty, there was cotton under half of it. It seemed like it was part of a dress. Someone must have lost it up there. You didn't investigate. Things were calm and quiet again as usual, but it wasn't long before the rustling from upstream got louder, just slightly, and you heard the clatter of a metal rod to the ground, followed by a heavier, louder thud. 

You turned on your heel and away from the stream, it took you four minutes to find the welcome sign to your town again. By 19:00 you were home. 

You never went back to the woods again. That August your mother informed you you were going to school in the city. 

— 

To say you were unhappy to come home from boarding school to the news your mother was marrying a cop would be an understatement, and while you tried not to be too judgy and give him a chance, to say you were surprised when he turned out to be a complete authoritarian would be an even bigger understatement. 

You knew of Agent Peña, he was somewhat of a local celebrity. You’d seen him on your summers home since you were sixteen- picking up beers at the convenience store, smoking cigarettes outside the petrol station. You and your friends would often drool over him, wait for him to show up at a neighbourhood barbeque, or catch him taking a walk around the block. 

Eventually, you grew up, and outgrew your little hallway crush on the, now, mostly tiresome Agent Peña. Because soon you weren't sixteen. And his holier than thou, saviour complex, and affinity for order only made you roll your eyes. In fact he was quite annoying. He made little effort to contribute to the community, still riding his high from his days in Colombia. 

You wondered why those people revered him like he was taking bullets for your town. 

You were absolutely flabbergasted when you found out your mother was marrying him. At first, a little bit jealous for the teenager who once fawned over him, but quickly more concerned for the fact that he was actually someone who you’d have to interact with, and not just a piece of eye candy you could appreciate out and about. 

Hell, he was becoming family, and your stepfather no less. It was torturous. You did not need another person to worry about in your home. 

“So.. What’re you studying?” He crossed his left leg over the right, and asked you. His hand reached out to receive the glass of whiskey your mother poured him. He hadn’t been in your house for ten minutes and you already couldn’t stand his guts. Besides the fact that he was a cop, he had this air about him… what exactly, you weren’t quite sure. A superficial, macho exterior that felt like a bigger slap in the face than the fact that he was sitting on the nice, upholstered, expensive, armchair your father had paid for. 

Unsurprisingly, Agent Peña often indulged you in riveting conversation about the dangers of indulging in alcohol and drugs at a young age as he puffed on his cigarette, and lectured you, in what you knew as truly your mothers fashion, about how young people these days didn't know a thing, and that they must always respect and follow the lead of their elders. 

Much like mother dear, he paid little attention to you other than to reprimand you for whatever it was you weren’t doing correctly; for when you didn’t do the dishes on time, or were staying out too late, as if it was any of his business to even begin with. He seemed to really enjoy the protective dad role. It fit in well with the rest of his pathetic persona. 

No wonder they got along.

You remember almost gagging when he boasted about the college you were set to attend, one arm slung across your shoulder, at the party your aunt threw for your graduation. Like he had absolutely anything to do with it. You excused yourself partly to avoid the embarrassment and partly to roll your eyes. A small part of you enjoyed his proud boasting, but you were not ready to unpack that yet. 

In the time the couple weren’t circle jerking about their views, you were lucky enough to be the recipient of snide comments that were so obviously meant for your late father. To his credit Javier Peña didn’t involve himself in the conversation. You couldn’t say the same for a lot of your mother’s previous lovers. 

Since you were ten years old you had been making your own decisions, doing what you wanted and living on your terms. To return to your home for the summer after graduation, now 18, and have to abide by someone else’s meaningless regulations, was a rather harsh slap in the face. Not to mention this someone had been in your life all of two months, and really enjoyed acting like he knew anything about you, or your family. 

Sometimes, when you’d climb down the stairs of that quaint suburban home, the home that once belonged to your family, in the middle of the night to grab a glass of water or a snack, you’d see him sitting out on the porch, hunched over a whole bunch of shit you couldn’t bother caring about, with his ashtray dangerously close to all that flammable paper. 

His shirt stretched deliciously over his back, his hand reaching out to ash his cigarette every once in a while. You were glad he was infuriating, had he not been such a prick it might have revived the little bit of a crush you had on him. 

Sometimes you felt a little bit bad for rolling your eyes at him, or shutting down his attempts to initiate group plans. If you were being honest you were surprised when he didn’t blow up at you for talking back or being rude– that was when your mother wasn’t around. When she was, he didn’t have to. She would jump at any chance to start a fight. You were even more surprised when Javier tried to diffuse the situation. 

You figured soon enough that perhaps the Javier Peña you met a few months prior was putting quite the show on for his overbearing, obnoxious lover. Of course, you were sure he hardly saw her that way. He was perhaps a lot smarter than you gave him credit for. 

Javier often chided your mother when you spoke back to her, rather unexpectedly calling out her bad parenting and the behaviour she “modelled” for you when you were a child. You overheard them argue after a big blowout, from your room. It upset you that he was even getting involved. He tried to talk to you about it later, but that was the last thing you wanted to do. 

Obviously, you knew your hatred of them both had something to do with your psychologically deprived childhood, but it baffled you how neither of them, especially wannabe father of the year Javier Peña, didn’t realised your isolated anger would perhaps be diminished if they stopped trying to meddle in your life, the one neither of them seemed to care about unless something about it upset them. 

If he really cared about your wellbeing he’d take his wife and get the fuck out of your life. You were an adult, one that wasn’t going to listen to anyone, especially not the mother who packed you away all those years ago, and her hypocritical, infuriating husband. 

Thats why, despite having almost gotten caught and having your ass handed to you less than forty eight hours prior, you were back at the shack, drink in hand, stupidly forgetting exactly what had you scrambling to get out there in the first place. 

Who could have even blamed you? Your mother had been especially annoying that particular morning, and Javier and his buddies had colonised the house for a barbeque in the afternoon. In what even you recognised as somewhat juvenile rebelion, you decided the universe owed you some fun after having to endure their patronising, senseless chit chat all day. 

It wasn’t even that late, but you were already feeling it, the effects of the countless drinks you had downed over the course of the few hours you had been dancing at the bar. Nothing unusual in that, men often offered to buy you drinks, handsome ones at that, and you didn’t have the money to live extravagantly. Besides, if you weren’t going to use your charm what was it even there for? 

Was it Timmy? Tommy? You couldn't even recall his name by the time he was tossing you onto the counter in the bar’s bathroom. To be honest you couldn’t really figure out much of your surroundings, letting yourself get lost in the delicate, dizzy, tipsy haze as his hands slipped under your skirt to squeeze at your thighs. Your regular drunk hookup, or rather someone you disappointingly rolled around with till he finished and left you to roll your hips against your pillow wishing your hands were your Stepfather’s. 

His lips brushed your neck, sloppily planting kisses up and down your skin, nipping at your collar bones as he pushed himself between your legs. You closed your eyes and imagined he was Javier. The thought made you moan and you reached for his collar to pull him closer. He didn't smell like Javi, wasn't as big, his chest wasn’t as firm, his arms didn't envelop you like Javi’s did. 

You felt him swell against you, and you pushed against him, mind once again drifting to Javier standing at the grill in your backyard. His white linen shirt unbuttoned far too low, rolled up sleeves drawing your eyes to his forearms. He’d had a hand on his hip, a sliver of skin right above the band of his shorts just barely visible. 

He smiled at you, and you had worried he’d caught you staring. You revelled in the image. You recalled how he leaned against the edge of the pool with the afternoon sun beating down on his golden skin. You imagined his hands moving under your bra to squeeze your breast. 

You were rather embarrassingly enjoying the little montage of your stepdad that was playing in your head. You had almost forgotten it was tommy, or timmy rolling his hips against yours. If a loud, wall rattling thud hadn’t interrupted you, you would've enjoyed your little delusion even longer. 

To say you were startled was an understatement, you practically leaped right off the counter. Unable to really gather your bearings in time, you barely registered timmy, or tommy, scrambling to fix his shirt, you yourself rushing to cover up and fix the top of your dress. 

From the corner of your eye you caught a hand grab him by the shoulder and shove him towards the door, dragging him out of the bathroom and towards a building commotion outside. You heard people yelling, but couldn’t really make out what was going on. 

When you looked up and found Javier looking dead at you, instead of your little fling, you damn near collapsed. He looked like he was on the verge of a heart attack. In a second he was shutting the door behind him, and flicking the lock. You would’ve ran, but its not like you could go anywhere, besides, hed gotten a good look at your face gawking at him, like a fucking moron. 

It was over. 

“You’re fucking kidding me.” you hopped off the counter and tumbled into his chest.  He took you by the arm and dragged you right to the back of the bathroom, you struggled to remain on your feet but he didn’t really care. Much of your dizziness was thanks to your new found anxiety and had little to do with the vodka you’d been downing all night. This was definitely not an ideal situation. His grip on your arm tightened, and made you wince. You liked the sting, not so much the rest of the whole ordeal. “This where you’ve been fuckin’ going?” he seethed, coming close enough that your noses almost touched, he shook you lightly by the arm as he spoke. 

You tried to wiggle out of his grip, but he pulled you closer. “None of your fucking business.” Sure, you weren’t on your best behaviour, but did he really think he could boss you around? 

“Sure as hell’s my fucking business.” he took a look behind him, then turned back to you and leaned closer. “‘DEA agent’s step daughter dancing at illegal drug club’ sure gonna make a sweet headline.” His fingers dug into your flesh. Only then did it hit you why exactly he was in your dingy shack to begin with. You heard Timmy arguing with someone outside. You felt your palms become impossibly clammier. 

“Just fucking turn me in then, asshole.” you got closer, and you were sure he could smell the vodka off your breath. You wished that sounded as courageous and bold out loud as it did in your head. His eyes jumped to your lips, and he rolled them, huffing in frustration. You felt your own eyes burn, and your vision became blurry. You didn't want to cry in front of that bastard. You looked away. 

“To whom? Myself” his thumb smoothed over your skin, and his grip lightened. “Not gonna arrest you, fuckin’ idiot.” he rolled his eyes, then dropped your arm to put his hands on his hips. He looked down and sighed, massaging his temple and then glancing behind him again. 

“Riskin it all for that fuckin’ looser?” He let out a half hearted laugh, looking somehow both disappointed and smug. You wanted to punch him in the face. You would have, if he didnt happen to be the only thing between you and one dozen other narcs outside. 

He glanced at the ground for a second, then back at you and fixed the strap of your top that had slipped down your shoulder. “Get in the car.” he pointed behind you, and you looked in the direction to see a small, open window. 

“Know you're good at climbing outta windows.” you felt your cheeks heat so much they burned. Your heart hadn’t really recovered from his big, surprise entry yet. You couldn't stand to look at his frustrated, let down face. 

Javi cocked his head and raised his brows, whispering a strained “go”. You had no choice, you turned away from him and towards the window. 

—

“Where are we going?”

He didn't look away from the road ahead. Hand gripping the steering wheel with a renewed annoyance. “Better stop asking questions before s’ too late brat.” You opened your mouth to speak, but quickly shut it right back up again. You decided it was probably a lot smarter to just shut up and not bother him any longer– regardless of the thousand questions and worries you had swimming in your head. 

If you were lucky, he was going to drive the both of you right off a cliff, because if your mother caught any wind of what you had been doing, your plans for going to college, and living out of your house would fly right out the window. Not to mention the torture that would insue when she demanded to know your whereabouts all day everyday for the rest of the foreseeable future. 

“Don't want ya hangin’ round the countryside, in these barns, nothing good happens in there.” he looked over you momentarily, 

“Oh what? Are the cows joining in on the drug trade?” 

“Newspaper boys, going missin’. Found him in the lake, about two miles from here.” you pressed your lips together. 

The car ride thus passed in a painful, tense silence. Javier was clearly unhappy with the whole situation, but had decided not to immediately blow up in your face? Everything about that unsettled you. He was so shocked he seemed to be in denial. You'd much prefer if he just yelled at you and got it over with. 

What else was there to do? Surely he wasn’t going to turn you over to the cops, he had his chance to do that already. However Javier never missed a chance to reprimand you, maybe he wanted to get a few words in before ruining your future. 

You wouldn’t put it past him anyway. 

The empty streets gave way to a narrow, winding road that cut through the woods. The familiar landscape of your small town faded away, replaced by shadowy silhouettes of trees that loomed closer and closer to the edge of the road. The headlights pierced the darkness, illuminating the dense foliage– closing in around you. The road twisted and turned, each bend bringing you deeper into the night, and further away from any civilisation. 

Beginning to zone out, you kept your eyes ahead, now unable to recognise left from right, and importantly, exactly how far out from town you had come.  It wasn’t long before the “farwell, drive safe” sign that stood at the edge of the woods was swiftly moving past your right shoulder. A pit was quick to form in your stomach, the lowered window by Javi’s side let the cool breeze in. It wrapped around you and made you shiver. The smell of the woods soon overcame you. 

Eventually,the car came to a stop in a small clearing. You watched Javi, but he paid no attention to you. The silence was almost deafening, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves and the occasional creak of branches swaying in the wind. In the distance, an owl hooted, its call echoed through the trees. You felt like a child about to be reprimanded after getting in trouble at school. You could hear the ticking of the cooling engine, each sound amplified in the stillness of the night. The dark woods pressed in on you. 

After what felt like an eternity, he opened his door, stepping out and gesturing for you to do the same with his head. Still absolutely clueless about what exactly he was doing, you decided just to follow along. He wasn’t going to actually kill you or anything. Probably just wanted to scare you. He had always thought he was a lot more scary than he actually was. At least that's what your brain was telling you. Your heart had other plans. 

You watched from inside as Javi began to cross in front of you, for a good three seconds he stood directly ahead of you, facing you in the beams of the headlights. The sight made you shiver. He took a step out of the light. Taking a long deep breath to psych yourself up, after a short moment you opened your door. Javi placed his arm on the top of said door, leaning against it to watch you get out. 

You almost tripped, but Javi caught you by the arm and manhandled you to the front of his truck. Your eyes took a moment to adjust to the light, and when he turned you to face the hood it blinded you. 

The scrape of your shoes against the damp soil, the crunch of the leaves– it was pretty much all you could really register. The moon shone bright, shining through the trees, but your eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness. “These woods are fucking haunted.” A bug landed on the side of your face and you jumped, shaking your head and swatting it away. Javier laughed behind you and you rolled your eyes. “Ghosts the least of your worries right now, bunny .” 

“Fuckin gross.” He shook you by the arm, his voice now a tad bit more annoyed than it was a little earlier. “Oh really?” He pushed you against the hood of his car, your back now facing it. You couldn’t see his eyes, any part of his face at all, you could barely see anything. You wondered how he moved so confidently in the dark. He must have practice. 

“I ain’t sneakin’ out to be a slut every night.” His hands moved to grab your waist and your heart jumped. You swallowed, feeling more defiant yet sceptical by the second. “Sorry you’re not getting any, but it's not my fault, dirty old man.” Before you could even gauge his reaction your head was snapping to the side, a sharp burn spreading across your cheek as Javier’s hand made contact with your skin. 

“I'm not getting any?” he laughed, then took your face between his fingers and squeezed your cheeks together. You winced, and your vision got blurry. You felt your panties dampen embarrassingly. “I ain't the one lettin’ stupid boys rub up on me, bunny.” He shook your face gently, voice so seething and cruel you whimpered, somehow more desperate for him than you were before. 

“Desperate little slut.” He grabbed you by the shoulders and flipped you around, and promptly told you to “shut that whore mouth” when you screamed that he could fuck right off. His fingers left tender spots all over your arms and waist, and you winced when he manhandled you into bending over the hood of his car. 

He placed a hand on your back to press you down, the other held your waist in a death grip and you felt him press up against your ass. Your dress had ridden up, and surely left little to the imagination. The denim of his jeans rubbed against your upper thighs, and the tips of your shoes barely scraped the ground with how far up the hood of the car he had thrown you. You whimpered and he shushed you with a hand squeezing around your throat from behind. 

You knew you had to be unjustifiably wet by this point. You felt yourself throb when Javi put his hands under your dress and grabbed the waistband of your panties. He pressed his hips into yours and you felt his bulge through the fabric. 

The jingle of his belt sent a shiver down your spine, every hair on the back of your neck standing up at attention. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, still undecided about how exactly you felt about this entirely new development. 

Your heart jumped when he ran the leather across your skin, slowly, perhaps to catch you off guard when he finally struck you with it. You lurched forward, the pain so sharp a tear was quick to roll down your cheek. He struck you again, holding you down with his other hand. The sound of each slash, and your whines that followed echoed in the distance. 

“Think you’re fuckin cute, don’t you.” It was horribly embarrassing to be bent over the hood of his car, both palms on holding you up as best they could whilst he landed spank after spank on your bare ass. “Like bein a wild child?” Your scream echoed in the woods when his belt made sharp contact with your flesh. Your knees buckled but Javier's hand on your waist held you up before it was retreating to land another slap on your ass. Tears were dampening the neckline of your dress already, rolling down your neck and rendering you a bigger mess with every sharp spank of his belt. 

“Yeah? You get off on all those men touchin’ ya? Like being passed around like a cheap whore?” He gripped your hips so tight you didn’t even bother trying to wiggle out of his hold. “Should take ya to the office sometime, hand ya off to Steve, let him have some fun with you.”

You shook your head at that, there was only one man in the DEA offices you wanted, and unfortunately it wasn’t anybody that could actually be with. You clenched your thighs. 

“Knew you were a fuckin’ nasty little girl.” He wedged his hand between them, pushing them apart and slightly spreading your thighs. His fingers rubbed over your clothed cunt, your panties now damp from all that had ensued. You shivered, then pushed back against his digits. 

His fingers found your clit and you moaned. “Did ya cum?” he asked, referring to your little escapade at the bar. Suddenly, you were a whole lot less bold than you were a few moments ago, it wasn’t ideal to admit what you were going to, and it seemed almost impossible without sounding rather pathetic. 

He stopped moving his fingers and pinched the inside of your thigh. “Answer me.” You whispered a “no” bracing yourself for whatever embarrassing comment Javier was going to throw back at you in response. “Huh.. No one fucked this tight little snatch before? Savin’ yourself for me?” he ruminated on the thought, sounding far more pleased than you would have desired. He wasn’t exactly right, but he definitely wasn’t wrong either. 

When you remained quiet he leant beside your ear, lips ghosting the skin on your neck. “Hmm, that right? “Wish it was me instead of that stupid boy?” You groaned at his smug voice, then when his fingers slid under your panties and between your dripping folds. “Wished his finger’s were mine tonight, didnt you?” He cursed under his breath at how wet you were. “How many times d’you cum dreamin’ bout your stepdaddy fuckin your tight lil pussy…” 

“Haven’t” You pressed your face against the metal of his car, cheeks on fire at your admission. He remained silent behind you for a beat, then gently lifted you to press your back to his chest with a hand around your throat. He pressed a hot, open mouthed kiss against your neck, and the hand that was between your legs slid under your dress to plam your tit through your bra. “Ever?” 

You gasped as he pulled it down, rolling your nipple between his fingers. You shook your head and pressed back against his hard cock. The buckle of his belt dug into your skin and you could almost feel the sting against your ass once again. He pulled you impossibly closer to him, hand returning between your legs. 

He rubbed your clit in slow circles and then pushed two fingers into your entrance. “Full of surprises, aren't ya?” you gasped at the stretch, his fingers were surely far bigger than your own, or any others that had been anywhere near your pussy.  “don't blame ya’ bunny , nothing like the real thing, huh?” 

You bit your lip harder to keep from moaning, already far closer to finishing than you had ever been before, especially when he stroked your walls, mercifully scissoring you open in an uncharacteristic show of thoughtfulness. 

“So fuckin’ wet, bunny .” he curled his digits, reaching that sweet spot inside you as he thumbed your clit. You pushed back against him, feeling yourself continue to gush around his hand. “Gonna slide right in at this rate.” 

He yanked your panties down with so much force you heard a few stitches rip in the silence. Javier groaned, and you leaned back against him when his hand moved away from your pussy to slide his hard cock between your thighs, his hips flush against yours. He squeezed your tit in his palm as he pulled back a little, sliding against your swollen cunt again. 

You felt your arousal smear against your thighs. He muttered a strained “Can’t wait much longer, bunny” . You, yourself thought you might have gone crazy if he waited longer. He pulled his hips back again, notching the head at your entrance and pushing in in a single, slow thrust. 

You winced and then moaned, body unable to adjust to the sheer size of him so quickly, yet still hungry for more. You hadn’t felt quite so full ever before, you could feel his cock deep inside you. Your hand covered his on your chest and you mewled and whimpered when he moved his hips, replicating the sharp thrust again, and then again. 

It wasn’t long before he was pushing you back down against the hood of his car to get a better grip on your hips. He twisted your wrist as you reached out for him, holding both in one large palm as he found a steady rhythm. The almost unbearable stretch slowly melted away into a delicious, burning need, and in only a few moments you were pressing back against him, pleading for him to pick up his pace. 

“You rub your pretty little cunt thinking ‘bout my cock splitting you open?” You moaned a “yes” every part of your body now hot with need as he kept fucking into your warm, wet, heat. 

“How?” When you didn't answer he landed a spank to your ass, this time with his hand, and right over the spot his belt had left its sting on not so long ago. You yelped and surged forward. His hand on your hip pulled you back. You pulled yourself up, craving the heat of his chest against your back. 

“On my- oooh” your palm landed over his, fingers wrapping around one of his larger ones as you cut yourself off with a moan “On my pillow.” The memory made you throb harder, and the hand that was holding Javiers guided it away from your hip and closer to the cut of your thigh, craving the feel of his fingers on your clit. 

He squeezed the flesh of your thigh and chuckled, hot breath fanning against your now sweaty skin. “Thought as much. My little slut. Knew I heard ya..” he took your earlobe between his teeth for a moment, nipped and then licked a stripe up your neck “tryna make yourself cum. Couldn't figure it out yourself huh?” 

You shook your head. “horny little girl, need me to do everything for ya.” You had indeed, countless times rather ashamedly. The thought that he’d possibly heard you long enough for it to be a problem, had likely fucked your mother at the thought, wishing it was you under him in her stead was a thought that would live in your head for all eternity. 

He kissed your cheek, then pushed you back down. “S’why ya keep spreading your legs for the whole world huh?” He put a palm on the middle of your back, holding you down as he continued to thrust inside you. “Chasin’ cock all day long.”

“Can’t help this whore cunt huh? So desperate to cum.” holding yourself up on your forarms you raised your head, turning back to get a look at him fucking into your desperate pussy. 

“Knew it the moment I fuckin’ saw you. Dumb slut got nothing to her name besides this sweet pussy. No one taught ya any manners, how to be a good little girl.” His thumb brushed over the cut of your jaw, fingers squeezing your cheeks. His index and middle fingers swiped your lips, and they instinctively parted to let him push them in. You sucked and drooled around his digits, doing little to contain your moans as he continued to fuck you from behind. The taste of your arousal sat heady on your tongue. “Always knew ya wanted it, stupid little slut.”

“Runnin that whore mouth all day like you're payin’ for the house.” his hips snapped towards yours, his cock buried deep inside you. “But it aint your house, bunny .” With the way your tits were pressing against the smooth metallic finish of his stupid pickup truck you were sure they were going to leave a mark. 

You released his fingers with a pop, and he grabbed you by the hips and flipped you around, hurriedly tossing you onto the hood of his car till your feet were also planted firmly above the bumper. Before you could even register the movement he was slipping back inside you, you felt yourself pulse around his cock. You hoped and prayed no one was remotely near, your wailes and whines loud enough to travel far into the distance. 

“Get that in your fuckin’ head” He tapped his index gently against your temple and you nodded, frantically pleading yes after yes. You felt him throb inside you, each drag of his cock building the tension in your belly. You felt your pussy squeeze around him, and you wiggled your hips closer to chase the feeling. 

Your head turned side to side, your whole body buzzing at the heat between your legs. You don't think you’d ever felt anything like it. Sure, it felt good to touch yourself, but this, the feeling of his cock inside you, against your wet walls, it was entirely different. 

The tension only built in your hips, your skin erupting in goosebumps as you hurtled closer and closer to the edge. Your palms squeezed your breasts, seeking purchase on any part of your body. 

You lay your back down completely, watching the light hit him right in the face, falling against his features to create sharp lines of contrast. You’d take a good long look at him on top of you to save for later, but he was quickly pressing his lips to yours and your eyes fluttered shut. 

The weight of his body on top of yours was enough to make you cum on your own, but the feeling of his lips was what really did it. For how rough and quick he was splitting you open, his mouth moved gently against yours, his warm tongue parting your lips and gliding into your mouth. You moaned against him and he bit your lip, sensing how close you were. 

“Wanna see that face when you cum for me.”  his palm tilted your face upwards, and while the rest of his fingers continued to squeeze around your neck his thumb slipped between your parted lips. Instinctively, you closed your mouth around him, drooling and moaning around his thumb when he hit the sweet spot inside you over and over. Your pussy clenched around his cock and you tried to whimper his name. You felt another word bubble in your throat but you closed your lips around his digit to push it away. Your eyes fluttered shut at the intensity. 

“Cum for me, lil bunny” his words made you tumble over the edge, your cunt squeezing and gushing around his cock, your back arching off the hood of his car. His fingers squeezed around your neck, holding your face in place so he could get a good look at your eyes rolling back into your head. 

It was like a blackout, your ears rang so loud and your lips loosened around his thumb, going slack as you rode out your high. You felt him throb inside you at the sight. You felt the ache deep inside you, all the pleasure bursting in a single climactic second. Your lips fell slack around his fingers, whole body twitching at the sensation. 

Your climax set him off, and it wasn't long before he was burying himself inside your hot heat. His cock pulsed against your wet walls, painting your insides with his spend. He groaned and squeezed around your neck just a little harder. You sucked his thumb gently and heard him curse under his breath. You tried to keep your fluttering eyes on his face, watching intently as the aftershocks subsided and Javier's brows knit closer with his final few thrusts. 

After a few moments he stilled inside you, taking a moment to catch his breath. He pulled his thumb from your warm mouth to brush your bottom lip, then let his own lips take their place. You felt him pull out and you winced at the burn. He put both your legs up on his shoulders and leaned between your legs. 

You watched as his head disappeared between your legs to place a kiss to your inner thigh, and pull your panties back up your hips. You reached for him and he pulled you up to his chest. “Gotta clean up a lil bit, bunny..” he fixed your dress and lifted you off the hood and into his arms. “Ain’t nothing to worry about.” You already knew your painties were ruined for good with a red stain by that point. 

You rested your forearms on his shoulders, quite liking being held in his arms. “Knew you were always to much of a fucking perv to be a good cop.” He smacked your ass again for good measure and placed you on the ground. “You aint’ too much of a slut to fuck your stepdaddy aint it?” 

He stepped aside and you watched him do up his belt again, walking towards the driver's side of the car. You looked behind you and towards the expanse of the woods. The trees rustled, and you heard, presumably, the same owl hoot from the distance. A small crackle in the foliage had you swiftly walking to the passenger side and yanking open the door. You hopped inside and slammed it behind you. 

Javier was reaching in the glove box to stash away his gun. “Please” You swallowed, looking towards him. “Please just don’t tell her. She's going to have a freak out.”

Javi glanced at you momentarily, then murmured a dismissive “yeah yeah” as he started up the engine. That wasn't good enough for you. “Please, she’ll give me hell, I can’t deal with it.” You shook your head, then shifted in your seat. He muttered another “yeah”, checking his pockets for the keys to your front door. God forbid they slipped out while he was fucking your brains out. 

You turned towards him in your seat, both hands on the centre console. “Please.” Javier grabbed the keys, hooked them to his belt loop and dropped his head in a sigh. He turned towards you, taking a moment to reach over and buckle you into your seat. 

“‘Ain’t gonna tell, so stop askin’ before I change my mind.” He knew he didn’t need to ask you to keep your mouth shut– perhaps the most humiliating part of this all. 

“Okay.. yeah..”  The headlights flashed as you began your journey back home, the exhaustion of the day catching up with you. You sank back, twisting in Javi’s direction, now curled up in the seat. His eyes remained on the road ahead. “Don’t do this shit again.” 

“Just wanted some adventure.” your voice grew thick, and you yawned. “Next time ya want adventure watch a fuckin’ hitchcock film or something.” He reached out a hand to cup your cheek, engulfed it and patted it gently. 

”Ain't always gonna be there to save your ass, bunny.” 

— 

PART II

In between

What I find is pleasing and I'm feeling fine

Love is so confusing there's no peace of mind

If I fear I'm losing you. it's just no good

You teasing like you do

Eeek! Hope you enjoyed!! I’m very excited for this series, and I hope you are too! Please let me know what you think! Thank you to everyone who interacts with my work! Your comments and reblogs keep me writing 💗🐝

[endless-ineffabilities]

Aaaand, CUT! (a Chemical Override minishot)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: I've been watching a ton of The Office bloopers, which inspired this random little thing. This is set waaay back in part 1. Oh, the good ol' days.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Ewan and the reader film a promo spot for season 2. They try to, at least.

The press day in Paris had been going smoothly for the most part. At least, that was how it seemed. You hoped that you have been able to act smooth, so to speak, having to sit in close quarters with a guy who can make your heart race a mile a minute, and all he has to do is turn those blue eyes in your direction. 

You and Ewan were halfway through your schedule of interviews and promo. But by the time the crew set up for the next clip—a quick promotional spot—you both were running on caffeine and shared inside jokes. 

You couldn’t believe you were sharing private quips with Ewan (Aemond himself!) but you found it easy to get lost in your dynamic. These were the kind of jokes that only made sense after hours and hours of interviews, with lights glaring in your faces and scripted answers rolling off your tongues like a broken record. 

You stood next to him, the House of the Dragon logo projected on a screen behind you. The task was simple: introduce yourself and tell the audience to watch House of the Dragon Season 2 on Max. Fifteen seconds, tops.

But you two had already spiraled into a fit of laughter in the last three takes. 

Somehow, saying the line together, “Go and watch House of the Dragon Season 2, only on Max,” had become the hardest thing in the world.

“Alright, let’s try this again,” the director said, sounding more tired than frustrated. “From the top.”

Ewan turned to you, his lips twitching. “Bet you crack first, darling.”

Your mouth fell open in faux indignation. “Shush. I got this.”

“Let’s see, shall we?” His gaze dropped briefly to your lips before he straightened up, ready to go.

The red light on the camera flicked on, and the cameraman waved a hand as a signal for you to begin.

You barely had time to shoot Ewan a warning glance before you introduced yourself. 

He followed smoothly, “And I’m Ewan Mitchell.”

It was going fine. Smooth, even. So professional.

Until you reached the part where you had to say the final line in unison.

“Go and watch House of the Dragon Season 2, only on—” Ewan dropped his voice an octave, dragging out “Max” in an over-the-top baritone that sent you over the edge.

“Pffft—shit!” you snort uncontrollably. “What was that?” You pressed a hand to your mouth, trying desperately to keep it together, but it was too late.

Take, ruined.

“What?” Ewan crumbles into laughter, his low chuckle infectious.

The director sighed heavily. “Cut!”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, wiping at the tears forming in the corners of your eyes. “We’re never going to get through this.”

Ewan leaned in, ducking his head to whisper, “You’re adorable when you laugh.”

“Stop it,” you shot him a look. Act cool. “You’re distracting me on purpose.”

“Stop what?” he smirked. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Right. Some help you are,” you said sarcastically, though the warmth in his gaze made it impossible to stay serious for long.

“Come on, focus,” he teased, nudging your arm with his elbow. “We’ve got a job to do here.”

“Maybe you should focus,” you retorted, arching an eyebrow. “You’re the one who keeps messing up with that ridiculous voice.”

He laughed again. “What can I say? I thought we needed some extra charm.”

You gasp playfully. “Is that your subtle way of telling me I don’t possess enough charm?”

“Oh, darling,” he said, “I could never say that to you.”

You clear your throat. “Mhmm… okay, well—”

His smirk stayed right in place, as he leaned back coolly.

“Alright, guys, one more time,” the director called out. “Please, just this one. Action.”

You stood a little straighter, determined to get it right this time, then recited your line. 

“... and I’m Ewan Mitchell.”

Together, you spoke in unison. “Go and watch House of the Dragon Season 2, only on—”

But this time, Ewan leaned in just a fraction, whispering right at the end of the line, “Max... or maybe just come watch it with me?”

His breath was warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. You lost it completely.

“Oh my god, stop,” you gasped between fits of laughter, swatting at his arm. “Ewan, you can’t say that!”

The director groaned from behind the camera, clearly on the verge of giving up. “Alright, five minutes, people. Just take a breather.”

You were still laughing as you walked off the set, shaking your head in disbelief. “We’re never going to get this done.”

Ewan followed you, his grin softening into something more intimate as he glanced your way. “Maybe we could be stuck here all day together. Would that really be so bad?”

Your breath hitched slightly. He wasn’t looking at you like he was joking anymore. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words got tangled up somewhere between your brain and your throat.

Thankfully, the crew called you both back for another take before things could get any more complicated.

Once again, you took your places under the lights. You made the mistake of catching Ewan’s eye, and the memory of his earlier teasing flooded back, making it impossible to keep a straight face.

Ewan raised his eyebrows at you, as if daring you to start laughing again.

“Don’t you dare,” you whispered through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to laugh.

“I didn’t say anything,” he said, his lips twitching.

“You’re thinking it.”

He chuckled under his breath, his voice low. “I was thinking of something else entirely.”

Your cheeks burned. Before you could even process what he meant, the camera started rolling again.

You took a deep breath and said your line without a hitch.

Ewan jumped in, his voice perfectly smooth and serious this time. “And I’m Ewan Mitchell.”

Together, you said, “Go and watch House of the Dragon Season 2, only on Max.”

You made it. You actually made it through the line.

The director hurriedly shouted a relieved, "Aaaand, CUT!" then added, "Holy shit, you two—with all that flirting, I'm amazed we made it this far today."

[im-subtextsexual]

I’m glad so many people picked up on the vibes between Eloise and Cressida. Not a ship I ever considered before, but the tension was palpable. I’ve been a Queer Eloise truther since reading the books. Her portrayal on the show only made it more obvious in my mind. I didn’t think the writers would ever go there, but the set up is just so explicit, now I’m not sure. I don’t think they’d actually make Eloise / Cressida canon, but I do think they’re testing the waters for wlw Eloise. And it makes perfect sense. 

First off, the character is queer (I’ll hold off from labeling her a lesbian outright, because there’s definitely room for other identities like bi, demi, ace…. etc.) Even in the books. I legitimately think Julia Quinn accidentally wrote a sapphic character and then didn’t know what to do with her. So what we got is “To Sir Phillip, With Love”, widely considered to be one of the worst in the series. Believe me, if there’s any story that could stand to deviate from the books, it’s this one. And the story could so easily be adapted to a wlw romance, it would be a wasted opportunity not to do it. Like�� the story would be better if they tweaked it to fit a queer canon. AND it could be done in a historically accurate way to shut up the naysayers that “a lesbian storyline wouldn’t fit in this universe.” How? Allow me to explain.

*SPOILERS FOR BRIDGERTON SERIES BOOK 5*

In the book, Eloise strikes up a correspondence with Sir Phillip Crane. Yes, THAT Phillip, the one currently married to Marina from season 1&2. Marina kills herself because she can’t stand to be married to Phillip and deal with their children in the wake of her lover / his brother’s death. His initial interest in Eloise is to find a mother for his children. She is intrigued by his intelligence and decides she doesn't want to be alone, but isn’t necessarily eager to marry or have a family. Due to romance novel shenanigans, she runs away to Phillip's house and is forced to marry him. Even as they grow to kind of love each other, it's far from some grand romance. It’s the very definition of “settling”. The most interesting part is the narrative structure of their story being told through letters in the beginning. We could keep all that, but make it gay. 

*Imagine*

Eloise meets some dapper gentlemen new to the marriage mart. We’ll call him Emmett. Very little is known about Emmett and his family as they keep largely to themselves at their estate in the countryside. The only thing that’s widely known is the family suffered a tragic accident where the man of the house and his oldest daughter died, leaving his son (the other twin) to take on the responsibility of rank and title very early. Emmet is making a rare appearance in London to find a wife (there are rumors of stipulations in his inheritance requiring a match). ALL the debutantes are fawning over him because he’s mysterious and extraordinarily good-looking. One might even say “pretty”… To everyone’s great surprise the season’s most eligible bachelor takes a special interest in Eloise after overhearing her talking about her disdain for the social convention of marriage, and how she would only consider it if it were an in-name-only, marriage of convenience. Emmett strikes up a conversation with Eloise and she is taken by his humor, wit and shockingly deep empathy for the limitations society puts on women. They continue to gravitate to each other through the first few events of the season, but Emmett has to return home suddenly because of a family emergency. Eloise is shocked to find herself disappointed, but they promise to write. Cue the correspondence romance.

Eloise grows more and more smitten with Emmett every letter she receives, but still has the same reservations about marriage especially when she thinks of the intimacy a relationship like that would require. When Emmett hints that he may want more than friendship, Eloise's feelings get the better of her and she goes to visit Emmett unannounced. He is shocked to see her, but let's her stay and she gets to know his mother and two younger sisters. The Bridgertons go looking for Eloise, worried something has happened to her. When she is found to have been staying for days in an unwed man's home without a chaperone, the potential scandal causes Anthony to force Eloise and Emmett to marry. Surprisingly, Emmett actually agrees so Eloise does too (all of this is essentially what happens in the book).

Eloise confesses to Emmett that she's nervous/resistant to physical intimacy, but he assures her they never have to be together that way. In fact, he would prefer the marriage of convenience they always talked about. Eloise is relieved until their kiss at the wedding sparks an attraction she wasn't expecting. They spend the first month or so of their marriage sleeping in separate rooms, enjoying each other's company, and letting the tension build. One night, Eloise's control and curiosity finally snaps and she goes to Emmett's room to initiate a physical relationship. She catches Emmett off guard in his sleeping clothes which makes it VERY clear... Emmett is a woman (cliffhanger of episode 4, and where we deviate from book canon to make it queer).

After the initial shock, Eloise allows her new "husband" to explain. Emmett is really Emma, the daughter believed to have died in a carriage accident with her father so many years ago. It was her twin brother that actually died, but since there were no other male heirs, Emma's family fortune would have gone to a distant uncle who is cruel and abusive. To save them of that fate, Emma's mother conspired with the local coroner to make it look like Emma was the one who died, so "Emmett" could inherit everything. Emma has been living as Emmett ever since, successfully keeping up the deception by keeping a low profile in society. The only reason Emma came to London that year is because her uncle died, and a cousin had come around asking questions hoping to inherit. She thought getting married would help secure her identity as Emmett and the cousin would back off. At first Eloise is outraged. She feels betrayed by Emma's duplicity, and is terrified if any of this ever got out everyone they know would be ruined forever. She agrees to keep the secret to save her family's reputation, but shuns Emma. Eventually, Emma (already aware that she's in love with Eloise) attempts to make amends and Eloise is charmed enough that she relaxes back into the relationship they had before the Big Reveal. The only problem is the attraction is still there, even more so now that Eloise knows the truth. Things come to a head, and they go at it Bridgerton style.

Emma and Eloise live happily in a true marriage for a bit until Cressida and Penelope come for a visit. They both find out about Emma, but are sworn to secrecy. Pen easily swears her loyalty (having already suspected Eloise), but Cressida is sickened. In a rage, she threatens to out them all, and storms back to London. Eloise follows her and begs Cressida to keep the secret, and tries to explain why the "wrong" feelings she has for Emma are very right for her. To Eloise's surprise, Cressida isn't upset about what she's doing with Emma, but who she's doing it with. She didn't know what they're doing was an option; that she was an option. Cressida confesses that if she'd known a life with Eloise was a choice she could make, it's the life she would have chosen. Eloise lets Cressida down easy by explaining they didn't have that choice. Everyone in the ton knows who they are. The only reason her relationship with Emma works is because of the ruse that allows Emma to be Emmett. Cressida takes this in stride, and vows to keep the secret, but her mother overhears and causes the biggest scandal London Society has ever seen.

The Bridgertons and a few friends (like Lady Danbury) are as understanding as possible, but the rest of the ton is rabid. Things escalate to the point where Emma and Eloise have to appear before the Queen. Emma pleads her case about pretending to save her family, and insists that Eloise didn't know until well after they were married so she's innocent. Eloise can't help herself and gets on her soapbox about the way society limits women, and that the Queen should understand their plight. Shockingly, she does. She annuls their "marriage" (because they didn't consummate anything... RIGHT?!) but she agrees to let Emma control her family's estate until one of her sisters produces a male heir. After that, she and Eloise will receive a pension from the Crown so they can live independently (the real Queen Charlotte actually did this for suspected historical sapphic couple The Ladies of Llangollen). Since Emma and Eloise would never be able to find husbands now, they decide that they'll just be two spinsters growing old together in their house in the countryside. You know... just two gal pals. No one believes that shit, but they rarely interact with the ton, so they're largely left alone to live as they please.

Happy ending, close to canon, historically accurate, and super gay. It's not that hard. You're welcome.

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Omega Ours - Part 1 | Alpha!Cassian x Alpha!Nesta x Omega!Reader| Short Series 2.7k

After fighting your way out of every potential mating offered to you, your village sends you off with the High Lord. Rhysand, tired of dealing with the Alphas living in the House of Wind, gifts you to Cassian and Nesta in the hopes that it'll settle all three of you down.

Warnings: 18+ sexual content, language & themes. Omegaverse dynamics including Alpha & Omega and the sexist assumptions/implications that go along with it, heat/heat cycles, forced proximity, d/s themes, only one bed (and only one chaise), lots of tropey tropes! No use of YN but liberal use of pet names.

Divider by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources

Cassian & Nesta - from Pinterest

Created for @polyacotarweek - prompt 5 faveourite tropes (Omegaverse, only one bed, forced proximity, sort of insta-love)

Part 2 will be posted on the 13 (Free day!) follow @illyrianlibrary for updates ❤️

Part 2 | Masterlist | Poly Fics | Cassian

The only way to describe the couple stood before you was - handsome. 

The High Lord and Lady who’d brought you here were beautiful, elegant. But this couple could only be described as handsome, strong, Alpha. 

You knew them, of course. General Cassian of the Nightcourt and his mate, Lady Nesta. Lord of Bloodshed and Lady Death, they’d called them in the camps that circled the Illyrian villages like pilot fish on a shark.  

“I’ve brought you a present,” Rhysand drawled, pointing at you. “Well, it’s a favour and a present. The last unmated omega of the season. She's  from the Western Isles, I thought it might help to tamp down your behaviour if you two had a project.” He grinned and you turned to look at Nesta and Cassian again. 

It was true, you’d rejected every mate offered to you, bitten some of them, in your desperation to get away, and that’s how you’d lost your freedom. Fighting the boys from the village was one thing, fighting an Illyrian was another. They’d hauled you into the camp in front of the High Lord on his last visit and demanded compensation. 

Rhysand, ever flush with jewels and gold, had paid them and then had a set of cuffs and leathers made for you. Nightcourt black velvet, red stitching and silver buckles. But restraints were still restraints, no matter how soft they felt against your wrists and ankles. He’d had new clothes made for you as well, traditional sheer panels of matching blood red that hung in gossamer curtains down your legs, pooling around you as you were forced to your knees in front of the Lady and General. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Nesta studied her nails, her air bored but her eyes kept flickering towards you. 

“Come now, Nesta, we both know you and Cassian caused quite the stir the last time you were both in heat.” 

You were right then, you could smell it on them anyway, that raw power and strength that designated them as Alpha. 

“Still -  you want us to take care of your problems?” Nesta huffed. 

“Of course not, she’s a gift, for you and Cass, if you happen to tame her enough that she stops mauling my men then that’s a bonus.” 

You looked between them, it was undeniable how attractive they were. Better than the mud caked idiots from the village at least, but you still railed against the hand that dragged you back to your feet. 

Cassian kept his hand under your elbow, pinching your cheeks with his other hand. “Come on, Nes. She’s cute, isn’t she?” He angled your face up towards his mate. 

Nesta shrugged one shoulder and you snarled, snapping at Cassian’s fingers. 

“Feisty,” he gave a deep chuckle, “I like that, that’s how Nes and I got together.” He hauled you over his shoulder, your legs and arms dangling, the panels of your dress slipping dangerously. 

“Put me down!” You beat your fists on his back. 

“Should have thought of that before you tried to bite me,” he teased, jostling you. 

You scowled at Nesta, who followed, laughing, through the halls of the palace and then tried using the only knowledge you had about the Illyrians. You reached out and grabbed his wing, squeezing as tightly as you could. 

He growled back, the sound travelling up through his chest into yours, vibrating your very core. 

“You want to play rough? Good.” 

Cassian shouldered a heavy door open and suddenly the sweeping corridor was gone and a dark, warm room wrapped itself around you. 

The walls were an oxblood red with thick velvet curtains that lay heavily in front of the eternally open windows. The soft jasmine breeze that circulated through the house was mixed with the cleaner scent of mountain air and the crackling of a fire, rich and inviting. 

The general set you down, his gaze travelling slowly down your figure. He clenched his jaw and then instantly turned to his mate, cupping her cheeks in his large hands and kissing her roughly. She growled in response, leaning into his embrace and allowing him to lift her against his body. You watched as he carried her across the room to an open archway, almost hidden behind a large tapestry, and then they vanished again. 

Tentatively, as much as you could with the thin chain connecting your ankles, you crept across the room to the curtain, now brushed back and curling heavily on the polished floor. 

Nesta and Cassian were tangled on the bed, the heady scent of their arousal lay thick in the air, the bedsheets already rumpled as if they’d been interrupted before, the room in disarray. 

On both bedside tables there were stacks of books of various genres, a pitcher of water on one and dagger on the other. 

“Either come in or go,” Nesta groused from the bed, hair messy, one of Cassian’s hands still tangled in the long golden-brown strands. 

“Play nice, Nes.” The general laughed, biting at Nesta’s earlobe. “You can join us or you can sleep,” he said over his shoulder. 

Sure enough there was a small chaise made up with blankets at the end of the bed. You shuffled over, and fell heavily onto the soft cushions listening to the sound of their love making. Each grunt and moan made you press your thighs together harder. Each stifled sigh had your hands twitching, itching for something more. You may have rejected every attempt at a mating, but you weren’t completely without feeling, without desire and needs and lust. 

You lifted your hands to cover your ears, the chain between them digging into the bridge of your nose, and fell into a confused sleep. 

 You awoke to the sound of moving bodies and cloth dragging on the floor. 

“She’s asleep, let her rest, Cas.” 

“What if she’s cold?” The footsteps came closer and you tensed on instinct. The steps stopped, but a gentle weight floated down on you, a large cotton blanket, awash with their scent, settled. 

“I’m going to wash,” Nesta’s voice faded as she walked away but there was no other movement. 

“I know you’re awake.” His voice was loud in your ear, closer than you’d expected and you jumped again, almost sliding from the chaise. Cassian’s arm caught you, tight around your waist and his bareskin was so warm against your own. You cracked one eye open and looked around the room as best you could with his wings blocking out the faint candlelight.

His arm was speckled with tiny scars that twinkled against his tan skin, the hair that decorated his forearm was as dark as the long tendrils that brushed over his shoulders and this close, his chin almost resting on your own arm, he smelt heavenly. That mixture of his own scent and Nesta’s even stronger in his proximity and, no doubt, enhanced by their earlier activities. 

“If you want, you can borrow some clothes.” His voice was a sleepy rumble and you resisted the urge to let your omega instincts take over and push yourself back into his chest, seek out that warmth, that comfort - but you didn’t respond. 

The sound of running water in the other room stopped, replaced with the gentle pad of Nesta’s footsteps and then she was in front of you. Surrounded by them again you had to fight back every urge to give in to her wicked mouth, her lips plump and kiss bitten. 

“We’ve left you some things on the chair, choose what you will. If you want to join us on the bed, you can.” Nesta moved away taking Cassian with her and you assumed from the gentle rustle of sheets they were back in bed. 

The chair that sat opposite their grand fireplace was strewn with clothes, silky looking negligees and billowing linen shirts, some cotton leggings and a pair of woollen socks. 

Waiting a moment, hoping they weren’t looking, you rose from the chaise and rushed for the chair. The translucent dress the High Lord had had you wear left your skin cold and bare, exposed and vulnerable. Cassian’s shirt was a welcome relief, covering your body from view, although the two slits in the back for his wings did feel slightly odd. The socks were warm and fluffy, long enough to reach almost to your knees. Redressed, you turned to return to your chaise and tugged the blanket up to your chin. 

You didn’t really want to spend the entire night there, but you also refused to give in to the ridiculousness of the situation. No one chose your mate, or mates, for you and you’d rather sleep on the tiny chaise that allow anyone to take that choice from you. 

Thankfully, Nesta and Cassian had turned away, the Illyrian’s large wings spread over the bed,. Shielding his mate from view? Or stopping her from following you around the room with her silver stare? You weren’t sure, but you were grateful as you closed your eyes. 

It was only as you were falling asleep that you realised you were snuggled into the shirt, inhaling Cassian’s scent, and by then it was too late, you were tumbling into your dreams. 

The next morning Cassian and Nesta were gone, but someone had left a tray of food, a pot of tea and a stack of books on the table. The doors to the balcony were open and the jasmine wind blew the curtains back so invitingly you couldn’t resist. 

You were halfway through one of the books they’d left, something by Sellyn Drake that had far more smut in it than you were anticipating. A slice of buttered toast was stuck halfway to your mouth as you stared transfixed at the page, when the door opened. Cassian held the door for Nesta, taking a long sword from her hand and placing it on the table that was perpetually strewn with weapons. His own sword and daggers followed and the two of them began to strip out of their leathers. 

There had been a rumour that Nesta trained alongside the Lord of Bloodshed and the Shadowsinger, trained with other women as well, but you hadn’t thought to believe it until now. 

Her leathers were tight against skin, a sheen of sweat making her sparkle, her long hair was tied up in what was now a messy ponytail and, most surprising of all, she was smiling broadly at Cassian. He returned the smile, cupping her cheek and pulling her in for a kiss, his hands wandering down to the buckles and clasps that held her fighting leathers together. 

Cassian looked equally as powerful, his own armour dark against his tanned skin, his tattoos flowing under the leather before appearing again at his collar bone and trailing over his shoulders towards the vast wings at his back. You set the book down slowly, the lust filled scene already had you feeling hot under Cassian’s shirt even before they appeared. 

The movement caught his eye and he turned, taking Nesta with him and pinning her against his chest. They way they looked at you, like the most delicious prey, had you pressing your legs together. You wouldn’t give in to this, especially not when it was exactly what that smug prick of a High Lord wanted. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he cooed, “Would you like to join us?” 

It was Nesta who held her hand out, crooking her finger to coax you forward. “We’re going to bathe, the tub is large enough for three, come.” It was more a demand than a question and, though you longed to see how far down Cassian’s tattoos went and how Nesta would look covered in bubbles, you resisted again. 

With a shake of your head you went back to your book, trying to ignore the sound of them together through the wall. 

You fell into a rhythm, the three of you. Nesta and Cassian continued as they were, training, working in the library and attending meetings, and inviting you to join them whenever they were together. 

Your nights on the chaise were becoming increasingly uncomfortable, but you refused to be worn down by their requests, preferring to stay silent and read alone either on the balcony or by the fire. No amount of reading could drown out the sound of their love making, though. If you could call it that, judging by the bruises both of them sported proudly and the way their headboard banged against the stone wall. 

Despite your protests their allure was difficult to ignore, their playful banter, the care and attention they showed each other, even the way they whispered in bed, dissecting the day's events and, on a few occasions, discussing you. 

This only happened when you were pretending to sleep heavily, breathing slow and steady as you wished for dreams to take you. 

“Nes, did you see the way my shirt fit her today, rolling up her thighs-” Cassian had made a deep, guttural noise, only to be shushed by Nesta. 

“Yes, Cas, stop, she’s right over there.” Nesta hissed in return. 

“I know, God, she’s so fucking close, don’t you think she smells good?” 

“You know I do.” The sheets rustled and you heard Nesta whimper as a wave of arousal flooded you. They could smell you, you knew it and you couldn’t stop it. 

Sleeping in their room, bathed in their scent every day, surrounded by their things, it was like a huge nest and the longer you lingered here the more you wanted to give in and climb into their bed, to be between them and allow them to care for you.

You knew something had changed when you woke up drenched in sweat. As usual, Nesta and Cassian had already left the room, your breakfast arranged in its spot, clothes laid out for you. They’d started adding some new things, items that smelt like neither of them, clean linen and lavender, but you were still drawn to their items the most. Perhaps, it was the way they smiled when they saw you cuddling into one of Cassian’s shirts or standing on the balcony in one of Nesta’s dresses. But you refused to confront that feeling. 

Despite your long, cold, bath you still felt hot and uncomfortable. It was mid way through stripping off your linen trousers that Nesta reappeared. She moved with a preternatural grace that you were sure existed well before her sister’s ascent to High Lady. A smoothness to each turn of her hand, or extension of her arm, she made walking seem like a dance and you were transfixed.  

Nesta stopped as soon as she saw you, her nostrils flared, almost imperceptibly.

“Are you okay?” she asked in that cool, silvery voice. 

“Yes,” your voice felt hoarse. You barely spoke and had gone days without saying anything to either of them, merely existing in their presence. But now, locked by her gaze, there was no escaping. 

“You seem -” she weighed her words carefully, “unwell.” 

“I can assure you, I’m fine.” You took a half step towards the balcony doors, hoping the breeze would cool your skin. 

Nesta hummed, surveying you from head to toe. “I’d feel better if you got into bed.” 

You knew this was as persuasive as Nesta could be, a simple request made in the lowest of tones, an argument not worth having. 

“I-” 

“The bed.” She crossed the room swiftly and turned you towards the large, velvet draped bed that took up a large portion of the room. Since your first entrance into Nesta and Cassian’s suite, you’d done your best to avoid even looking at it. Now there was no escape.

Your hands were shaking, a tingling heat rising from your spine and coiling in your stomach. On this occasion, just once, you’d listen to her. “Fine.” With great difficulty, you pulled the shirt over your head and dropped it to the floor. You were so tired. When had you become so tired?

Nesta’s deft fingers grasped your chin, holding you still so she could look at your pupils, large and frightened. “Get in bed and go to sleep,” she insisted, and you obeyed. 

Part 2

[loveharlow]

SEVEN [SEASON 2] - 007 (PT 1)

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚ [8.9k] based on Netflix's Outer Banks Season 2 Episode 9

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, general obx warnings, discussions of sexuality, mentions of suicide

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ still love me?? not the biggest fan of this chapter but

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

PULLING UP TO THE BUNGALOW ON THE END OF THE STREET AND KILLING THE ENGINE, you and JJ were quick to jump out of the truck, calling out for his cousin, who owned the house in question.

“Ricky! Ricky!” You both shouted, helping Kiara drag Pope’s limp frame out of the backseat. The three of you helped walk Pope to the front door, JJ frantically rattling the handle and slamming his palm against the door before his cousin Ricky appeared — shirtless with a bowl of cereal in his hand.

“Hey, Ricky!” The blonde called through the window. “Look, I know you’re mad at me-”

“Remember the time you stole my ambulance?!” The dark-haired man argued through the glass, face turning red.

“Yeah, I know. I know you’re mad but - please, don’t do that!” JJ begged, watching as Ricky slammed the actual door in his face. 

The rest of you begged and pleaded, voices creating a mess of protests behind the door. JJ was quick to hand his portion of Pope’s weight off to John B, walking towards one of the windows and banging on it.

“He’s a having a reaction, he needs help!” JJ screamed through the glass. Ricky was JJ’s EMT cousin, who also happened to be the cousin who’s ambulance he’d stolen to break John B out of jail, which failed anyway. “He can’t breathe, Ricky!”

Something one of you said must’ve gained some sympathy because it wasn’t long before the front door behind the glass screen was swinging open again. “Who can’t breathe-” Ricky’s word died in his throat as he took in Pope’s swollen face this time.

“Look at him!” You cried — you, Kiara, and John B holding up your friend. “He needs help.”

“...Alright.” The man caved, pushing the screen door open to allow you all in. “Jesus Christ…” You were quick to hand off Pope, rushing into the man’s house.

“Hi, nice to meet you. Sorry.” You quickly threw in Ricky’s direction, making a b-line for the first flat surface you saw and swiping everything to the floor. Your friends were trailing behind you, using their strength to lift Pope onto the now cleared island counter top.

“You know, I wouldn’t come to you if it wasn’t an emergency.” JJ clarified, being the last one inside of the house.

“What’s wrong with him?” The medic asked, placing two fingers against the side of his neck to feel for a pulse. 

“Wasps.” Sarah and Kie replied in sync.

“Wasps?” Ricky repeated, asking for clarification. You all nodded. “Is he allergic to wasps?”

“We were kind of hoping you could figure that out for us.” You quickly replied, not wanting to be rude but wanting to speed up this procedure.

Ricky sighed, backing up from the table. “Hang tight, I gotta get my kit.”

“Hang tight?” JJ asked incredulously. “Hang tight, Ricky?!”

“It’s in here somewhere!” The older man called, disappearing near the bedrooms before re-emerging with nothing in his hands.

“Where’s your kit?!” You asked frantically — Kiara tending to Pope on the table as JJ and John B kept his legs elevated.

“If I knew I wouldn’t be looking for it-”

“What does it look like?” Sarah asked, the two of you intending to help the man look for his supplies.

“Like a duffel bag…” He offered, vanishing into his garage with his hands atop his head in distress. “Okay, I got it!” He returned after a few seconds — a navy blue med-kit clutched in his hands as he rushed towards the six of you.

He planted the bag on the counter top next to Pope, JJ scooting over to make room. “What do we do now?” The blonde boy asked.

“You don’t do anything because you’re not a paramedic. All you all can do is give me some space.” He said bluntly, the five of you backing up — similar expressions of distress etched on each of your faces. You watched as Ricky unzipped the duffel bag, pulling out a syringe and a small vial. “Here’s the thing,” He started, pushing the needle of the syringe into the vessel. “This a pediatric dose of epinephrine.”

He explained, extracting a precise amount of the medicine before removing the needle from the small glass bottle. 

“Is that gonna be enough?” You questioned, motioning for your teenage, six-foot tall friend laid out on this man’s kitchen island. “He’s not a kid.”

“It is ten times the normal dose.” Ricky informed you, holding the syringe up between his fingers. “So…if it doesn’t stop his heart, it’ll help him.” He shrugged sheepishly. “But I gotta use the whole thing, or else it won’t work. And I’m not goin’ down if he dies.” He said firmly, shooting a pointed look at his cousin.

“...Okay, fine, do it.” JJ urged, pulling at the roots of his hair. 

“Okay.” Ricky said, turning back to face Pope. “Okay....” He reiterated as the rest of you urged him to hurry. He seemed to mentally evaluate where to put the needle before settling on a spot on the boy’s bicep, pushing it in and injecting the dose before slowly pulling it out. “Alright, that’s it…” He said, setting the used needle down carefully.

“...Now what?” Kie asked, eyes flickering back and forth between the paramedic and her friend.

“Now, we wait.” He replied, chewing on his bottom lip. 

You all stood around and no one said anything. Not a word as all eyes remained laser focused on Pope, waiting on something. Any sign of life. The TV played mindlessly in the back, the tribe of you waiting for something to happen. All you needed was a gasp or for his chest to move, hell, you would even accept the simple twitch of one of his fingers.

But ten seconds turned to twenty and then thirty, and still…nothing.

“...You killed him.” Kiara said, staring angrily down at Pope’s swollen features. 

“No…” Ricky drawled out. “I didn’t do shit.”

“What did you do?” You asked angrily, eyes pinched as you searched Pope’s face for any sign of movement or life.

“I did exactly what you asked me to do.” JJ’s older cousin reprimanded. He was right and you all knew it. 

“Pope.” JJ said, grabbing the boy’s shirt and shaking his limp frame on the tabletop. “Pope, c’mon!” His voice raised, shaking the boy harder as you all stood back, distressed. “Come on, bro!”

A second passed and suddenly Pope was breathing in a large gasp of air, his chest rising by inches off the table before he collapsed back down, taking in steady breaths.

You all let out sighs of relief, watching as Ricky almost fell to his knees. Pope began coughing, his frame lurching off the table as he hacked, eventually springing up to sit straight on the table, his face swelling already going down.

“There he is!” JJ cheered, the rest of you laughing or sighing with relief. 

“It’s hot.” Pope wheezed out. “I’m really hot, guys…” He exasperated, the boy sliding off his patterned fleece jacket as he slid off the table, all five of you crowding around to help.

“Take it easy...” You instructed, helping the boy off the table as JJ helped him rid himself of the jacket. 

“I gotta get outside.” Pope breathed, letting his jacket fall to floor and gently pushing you all off of him as he set out for the front door, the five of you trailing behind.

“I owe you.” JJ patted his cousin on the shoulder, Ricky still standing shell shocked at the turn of events.

“It’s hot!” Pope said again, this time sounding much more irritated as he stumbled through Ricky’s front yard like a baby deer learning to walk. 

“Thank you so much.” You commended, looking back at JJ’s cousin before he closed the door. “Are there any side effects we should be concerned about?” You asked as he shut the door further and further.

“He’ll have a rocket up his ass for about half an hour.” He told you. “Then, he’ll be fine.” Was the last thing he said before closing the door, leaving you to turn around and watch your four friends chase Pope through the front yard like an unleashed puppy. 

“WHOOOO!” Pope exclaimed, hands on the steering wheel of your Ford Bronco — driving down an empty road back to Freedman’s church just as the sun set and the street lights came on.

“Pope, you’re driving kind of fast…” Kie piped up from the backseat, in between Sarah and John B. JJ was in the passenger seat while you seemed to get booted to the trunk of your own car.

“Pope…” JJ started. “Last to judge, but I think you should slow down a little-”

“No.” He cut off the blonde. “That would definitely delay our arrival to the cross. We gotta get there.”

“Okay,” You piped up, shoving your face in between Kie and Sarah in the back seat. “As the primary driver and sole owner of this car, I’m saying you need to lighten up on the gas pedal, bud.” You advised from the trunk, wind whipping through your hair. “Why did we let him drive again?” You questioned. “And why is JJ in the passenger seat instead of me?”

“Because I said I’d rip your ears off.” Pope replied in a single breath.

“And because I fixed this piece of shit on wheels-”

“You call my car a piece of shit on wheels one more time and I’ll rip your ears off-” You warned, squinting at the blonde through the rearview mirror.

“Okayyyy,” JB spoke for the first time in minutes, interrupting the small dispute. “Pope, how’re you feeling?”

“Great.” The curly-haired boy smiled, continuing down the road at a constant, life-threatening speed. “I don’t know what JJ’s cousin gave me but I am movin’!” He exclaimed, taking one hand off the steering wheel to make a speeding motion with his free hand.

“We couldn’t tell...” Kiara smiled awkwardly, buckling her seatbelt.

“Okay, well, um, you’re going really fast right now.” John B tried to parent, leaning over the shoulder of Pope’s seat from where he sat directly behind him.

“Yeah, really fast!” Pope laughed, craning his neck to look back as he drove, the car swerving wildly between the two lanes.

“Woah!”

“Pope!”

You all panicked, grabbing whatever you could as the car continued to basically drive itself until Pope refocused his sights in front of him, speeding up the car to miles you didn’t know it had the capability of going. 

“God, is he driving slow…” Pope sighed, attempting to pass the car in front of you all by swerving into the wrong lane, paying no mind to the car coming straight at him. 

“You don’t need to pass-” Kie tried, sitting up straighter in her seat.

“Pope, if you crash my car-” You warned, gripping the edge of the backseat for stability as you slid around in the trunk.

“You don’t need to pass!” Kiara continued as the other car swerved into the grass just as Pope swerved into the correct lane, now in front of the car you were previously behind.

“Man, what an asshole. Am I right?” The boy in the driver’s seat scoffed.

“He was going the speed limit...” You huffed, straightening yourself out.

“We’re not gonna get to the cross if we’re dead, Pope!” JJ exclaimed from the passenger seat, holding onto the safety bar. The tires of your car screeched over the road, your headlights not focusing on one single thing for more than a second.

“We’re not gonna die. It’s our divine right to get that cross.” Pope dismissed, looking back as he spoke, the car swiftly making a sharp left.

“Pope, look at the road!” You screamed, watching helplessly as your car drove into the left lane before nose diving into the woods. Pope tried to make an attempt at turning the car which only made things worse, the side of the car slamming hard into one of the six-inch wide Oak Trees as the airbags deployed and your frame went flying over the side of the trunk, tumbling through the grass. The windshield shattered, leaving glass littered throughout the vehicle as you heard your friends groan in pain, the hiss of whatever was damaged under the hood sounding out in the woods.

You held your ribs in pain, rolling over a sizeable rock on your way down. 

“Y/N!” You could hear your name being called in the distance, the sound of glass crunching, your friends coughing, and one of the car doors closing ringing in your ears. The voice called out for you again just as you’d found the strength to roll over on your stomach and push yourself up onto your knees.

“I’m over here!” You rasped, coughing. 

It wasn’t long before the familiar sound of JJ’s heavy combat boots were heard crunching over branches and leaves, a warm hand finding home on your back as the other slid under your stomach, helping you stand. “Hey, you okay?” The blonde asked, turning your frame to face him as your hands grabbed his forearms.

“Perfectly fine.” You strained, stretching out your back a bit as the boy brushed hair and leaves from your face. “Are you okay?” You asked, your eyes finally zeroing in on him to find a small cut on one of his eyebrows as well as some red-splotching on his cheeks and forehead, most likely from the airbag.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” He assured when your own hand reached up to brush your finger against the small cut, one of his hands ceasing yours.

“Is everyone alright?” John B weak voice echoed out into the woods, both you and JJ turning to watch as your friends all climbed out of the vehicle before making your way towards them.

“I think so…” Sarah replied.

“That is the last time you drive, Pope.” JJ reprimanded.

“Look at my truck...” You pouted, examining the destroyed windshield and the odd ways it was bent, not ignoring the steam emitting from the hood.

“One word.” JJ spoke. “Totaled.” He cringed. “Yeah, I don’t think I can fix it this time, princess.”

“Well, we’re gonna have to walk the rest of the way.” Pope ignored the damaged vehicle.

You all shared a look of confusion and bewilderment.

“...Dude-” Sarah tried, watching as Pope tried to walk away, shoulder brushing against JB’s.

“I’m going to get my cross.” He stated.

“Hey,” John B piped up, gripping Pope's arm to stop him. “Just relax for a second.”

“Get off of me.” Pope said, snatching his arm away. 

“No-”

“Move.”

“I am trying to help-”

“I am getting my cross.”

“You just crashed her car.” John B said as Pope managed to finally brush past him, walking aimlessly down the road as John B caught up. John B tried his best to restrain the boy once more, but Pope continued to brush him off, time and time again. “You’re gonna get hit by a car!” John B reprimanded, the sight of a huge semi-truck coming down the road going ignored by Pope, who was hell-bent on getting his family heirloom.

“Get off of me!” Pope yelled.

“Stop!” John B yelled back, Pope’s struggle suddenly ending when the truck passed, his dark-brown eyes stuck on whoever was in the vehicle. His eyes never left the vehicle and when it got far enough away from him and close enough to the rest of you, it only prompted the four of you standing behind to see what he was looking at...

Rafe and Renfield, Limbrey’s body guard, making direct eye contact with the six of you. Rafe was driving, a sick grin on his face as Renfield offered you all a salute. 

The six of you watched as the semi-truck continued down the road, standing by as it got smaller and smaller. But if they were driving back the way you all were coming, then…

“No…” You sighed, face and shoulders falling.

“...We gotta get back to the church!” Pope screamed, all of you looking at him. “Now!” He ordered one last time before he took off running down the road, the rest of you following.

YOU ALL WERE TOO LATE. And the cross was gone. Arriving at the church and seeing the cross no longer splayed out on the wooden floors was the biggest loss of the day. And no one said anything as you all piled into Kiara’s, freshly stolen, SUV — the only operable vehicle left amongst the group with The Twinkie being parked at Ricky’s which was too far at the moment and your car being completely totaled. 

If she got it back in time, he parents wouldn’t even notice it was gone.

“Oh, shit.” She cursed, slowing down as rapid flashing blue lights filled the car. “They found your truck.” She said, looking at you — you, JJ, JB, and Sarah squeezed into the backseat.

You all said nothing, watching as Shoupe approached the vehicle, flashlight in hand. 

“Good Evening, officer.” Kiara greeted, the driver’s side window already being rolled down.

“Sheriff.” Shoupe corrected.

“Sheriff. Yeah...”

“...Speed kills, huh?” John B spoke from the backseat, you nudging him in the ribs as he let out a soft ‘ouch’.

Shoupe just eyed each of you individually before speaking. “I pulled the tags.” He said, dragging out the sentence. “I know whose truck that is.” He said bluntly, eyes landing sharply on you and you cringed and offered a small wave.

“Sheriff…” Pope started from the passenger seat. “I just wanna say that this is all my fault. She had nothing to do with this. I take one-hundred percent responsibility.”

“Nothing to do with it, huh?” Shoupe pondered. “...The car’s in your possession kid. I have no choice but to take you home.”

Your face twisted at that. “...Uh, in case you forgot, I don’t really have one of those, so…”

“You do now.” He replied. “The Carrera’s,” He emphasized, eyes drifting towards Kiara whose attention was grabbed by the mention of her parents. “...Have ever-so generously opened their home to you. DCS went through your file and saw they were listed as your Godparents and they agreed to foster you. Right after they mentioned that their car was gone and the keys were missing. “

Well, that was quick. 

“I’m takin’ you home. The both of you.” He said firmly. “Or I can take you all in for leavin’ the scene of an accident.”

You and Kiara shared a look before silently agreeing with another and turning to Shoupe. “...Okay.” You both said simultaneously.

“Good.” The sheriff nodded. “Plumb?” He directed the female officer to remove you and Kie from the vehicle — the woman opening the driver’s side and back door. Kie exited the vehicle, looking down as she shut the door.

You spared your friends a glance before climbing over JJ’s lap to exit the car, one of the blonde’s hand finding a place on your waist, pausing your movements. Your eyes shot up to his and you held yourself up above him in the cramped space.

He didn’t say anything, just bored his sad, blue eyes into yours. You frowned pitifully and placed a soft hand on his cheek. “I’ll call you. Okay?” You said, tone hushed. He just sighed, eyes racing back and forth before caving in, nodding sadly. You nodded in a silent reply, leaving him with a soft kiss before climbing fully out of the vehicle, closing the door behind you.

“Come on,” Shoupe instructed you and Kie. “Let’s get y’all home.”

ARRIVING OUTSIDE OF THE CARRERA RESIDENCE FELT ODD. Or maybe it was being back on Figure Eight that felt the oddest. Or maybe it was the whole thing.

In the middle of the night, pulling up to Kiara’s home in the back of a squad car as Deputy Plumb parked the SUV in the drive way and Shoupe let you and Kie out of the backseat of his patrol car. You wondered if the rest of your friends made it back to The Twinkie by now — the absence of the SUV leaving them with no other choice but to walk back to JJ’s cousin’s house and get it.

You and Kiara watched in silence as the headlights on her parents vehicle went dead, Plumb exiting the vehicle and walking over to drop the keys into the girl’s palm and walk off, getting into the passenger seat of the squad car.

“Well,” Shoupe exasperated, hands on his utility belt as he moved to stand in front of the two of you. “Y’all gon’ inside, now. ‘S gettin’ late.” He said, nodding his head once. “Stay safe.” Were his parting words as he walked away, shoes scuffling against the concrete and he rounded the squad car, got into the driver’s seat and drove off, leaving you and a nervous Kie alone in her driveway.

The girl stared up at the house, shaking one leg and taking a deep breath. “Look, before we go inside…” She started, eyes on you. “My parents are probably gonna be super intense. I know it’s been a while since you’ve really seen them…so, I’m just warning you.”

You shrugged, glancing at the house before looking back at her. “Can’t be any worse than my previous living situation.”

Kie just scoffed lightheartedly. “Trust me.” She said, shaking her head. “You have no idea…”

Just then, a creaking sound in the distance grabbed both of your attention — heads whipping up to find Mr. and Mrs. Carrera standing in the doorway of the front door, both of their arms crossed over their chests as they stared down the daughter.

“It’s time for you two to come inside.” Her mother said bluntly, offering no other words. You and Kie spared each other one last glance before walking up the length of the driveway, up the small staircase to the front door before stopping in front of her parents.

“It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.” Mr. Carrera greeted from behind his wife to which you nodded awkwardly.

“It’s nice to see you, too.” You replied simply as the man stepped to the side, making room for you and Kie to enter the house. Kie went first, not even a foot into the door before her mother’s voice stopped her.

“Nuh-uh.” She said, holding a palm out but still not looking at Kiara herself. “The keys.” She prompted, curling her hand in on itself. Kiara complied quickly, dropping the ring of metal into her mother’s hand and proceeding to enter the house, you right behind her.

You can’t remember the last time you’d been inside. Even when you lived on Figure Eight, most of your time was spent at home or at Sarah’s. 

“Take a seat.” Her mother directed the both of you, the front door closing as she motioned for the couch in the living just feet away. You and Kiara did as you were told, walking over and taking a seat on the couch — her parents coming over and standing on the other side of the coffee table, right in front of the two of you. “There are two very important discussions to be had here.” Mrs.Carrera started, clapping her hands together. “Starting with you.” She said, pointing at her daughter.

“What you did tonight was…beyond unacceptable.” She began, hands moving wildly and blinking rapidly as she spoke. “Stealing the car?”

“I was bringing it back-” Kiara tried, voice small.

“It doesn’t matter, Kiara!” Her mother exclaimed, scoffing unbelievably and shaking her head. “Here you are, once again, making these stupid decisions against us, your parents, for some boys-”

“They're not some boys, they're my friends. Why can't you understand that-”

“Listen to your mother.” Her father cut in, fishing in his back pocket before pulling out what looked like pamphlet, letting it fall to the table.

Kiara’s eyes went between the paper and her father before picking it up — the words ‘KITTY HAWK’ etched into the front. “...What is this?” She asked, twirling the object in her hands.

“That’s your future, Kiara, if you don’t turn your shit around.” Her father said, pulling his lips into a thin line. 

“You’re joking, right?” She asked, voice wavering. “This is like one of those places where they kidnap kids in the middle of the night. Do you know how many kids die in these places? O-or kill themselves?-”

“No, it’s a program for troubled teens with behavioral problems.” Her mother inserted herself, hands on her hips.

“...So, now I’m a troubled teen?”

“What the hell would you call it?” Her dad asked, face twisting. “You disappear for days, Kiara, and then when you do come back to the house, it’s to steal my truck.”

“...I thought my friends were dead.” Kie spat, the room falling silent. “And you guys just wanted me to go back to school like nothing happened-”

“That’s not what we wanted.”

“-Like everything was fine, nothing about that is fine!”

“Nothing about any of this is fine.”

“I’ll do whatever you want!” Kiara pleaded. “Okay, I’ll pull double shifts or whatever. But I don’t want you guys to think I was wrong to help them. Because I wasn’t. I was doing what I thought was right. And I didn’t mean to do all of that to you guys…And I’m sorry.” She explained, tears gathering in her eyes. “I’m sorry for sneaking out and skipping school. It was stupid and I…I’m sorry for going to Charleston. I’m sorry for stealing your truck. I-”

“Baby…” Her mother stopped her rambling, rounding the coffee table to crouch in front of her daughter, taking her hands in her own. “I know. Okay, I know.” She reassured. “We love you so much.” She told the girl before shaking her head. “...But sorry is not gonna cut it anymore.”

Kie’s face fell at her words, eyes drifting towards her father who stood firm in his spot — arms crossed over his chest. “Let me tell you what’s gonna happen.” He started. “No more sneaking out of the house, no more treasure hunts, and no more Pogues. Or you’re going to Kitty Hawk.” He said with finality before his eyes landed on you. “And Y/N, I know you just got here so this may be a lot, but these rules go for you, as well.”

“Yes.” Mrs.Carrera nodded, standing from where she was comforting her daughter to rejoin her husband. “We’ve cleared out a room for you upstairs, you’ll have your own bathroom as well. You’re welcome to work with us at The Wreck but that is completely up to you. Shoupe told us about your car when he got to the scene and if you’re okay with it, we’ll pay for you to get it fixed. Anything you need, you can ask us, don’t be afraid. We only ask that you just respect us, our home, and our rules.”

You understood their rules and expectations but you wondered if that was the only rule that went for you…What if you continuously broke them under their care? Would Kitty Hawk be held over your head, too?

“I completely understand and I appreciate it so much.” You said, trying to offer a polite smile. “Thank you for taking me in and I’ll do my best to help out at The Wreck.” You assured them. “But... I do have my dog, Marley, if you remember her. She’s at John B’s house…along with the rest of my stuff.”

The Carrera’s shared a look, seeming to have a silent conversation before turning back to you and Kie. 

“We’ll take you.”

“FIFTEEN MINUTES. ANY LONGER AND WE’RE COMING TO GET YOU TWO.” Mr.Carrera said from the driver’s seat of his SUV. 

“We got it, Dad.” Kiara sighed, opening her door and getting out, you following shortly after.

The gravel crunched under your sneakers, the porch light being the only source of light in the dark of night. You didn’t wait to make your way up the small staircase and to the front door, it already being unlocked due to John B’s lack in one’s basic sense of security. 

Walking in, you were immediately graced with Marley’s presence — not having seen the animal in hours. You bent down, scratching the top of her head before looking back at Kie. “I don’t have much.” You said. “I shouldn’t be long.” You assured, standing up to your full height and walking into the guest room of The Chateau where you kept most of your belongings — that were mixed in with JJ’s.

“It’s fine.” Kie shrugged, the girl waiting in the living room with her hands in her back pockets. “Even if you do, they’ll just blame me like they do with everything…” You didn’t say anything, just continued gathering your things — throwing them into your heavy-duty backpack and zipping up the bag, throwing it over your shoulder as you walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, picking up Marley’s bowls, toys, and food. “...Can I ask you something?” Kiara said, voice small.

You sat your backpack on the kitchen table, eyeing the Carrera girl as she fiddled with her fingers. “You can ask me anything.” You laughed, a slight look of confusion on your face.

“Do you hate me?” She asked, eyes pinching together like the question brought her physical pain. “‘Cause, you know, I wouldn’t blame you if you did. After what I did…”

“Kie.” You started, pausing in your movements and letting your hands fall to your sides. “I know we haven’t been the best of friends lately, or, friends at all…But I could never hate you.”

She simply scoffed, running her fingers through her hair. “You say that now…”

“Because it’s true. We’ll always be friends, even if-”

“That.” She spat, laughing, but you could tell there was no real humor there. “That is my problem. And I don’t know how you can’t see it.” She said, shaking her head as her sad eyes met yours. “Can you not see how much…pain being your friend is causing me? And I know it’s not your fault, I know that-”

“What are you talking about?” You asked, mildly offended. “Being my friend is causing you pain?” You asked her, eyes wide in disbelief. “Kie, you kissed my boyfriend while you were with Pope. And you expect me to act like nothing happened? What about Pope? Have you even apologized to him?” You reprimanded.

“You-”

 “I got kidnapped and drugged and all of sudden you have, what, some kind of epiphany about our friendship? Because up until then you were treating me like shit.”

“That’s not why I-”

“Then explain it to me-”

“I can’t!” She yelled, cheeks taking on a shade of red. “...Okay? I’m trying, I have been trying but I can’t. It’s like the words don’t match up or…or nothing checks out. None of it makes any sense.” She rambled, pulling her fingers as she paced on the spot. “It’s so much more complicated than you think and I feel like I should tell you but I could be ruining everything-”

“Just try.” You sighed, shoulders falling. “It’s just us here. We have a little over ten minutes before your parents come marching in. I won’t say a word.” You told her. “I promise, I’ll let you speak and I’ll listen. I just want to understand. I want to understand where our friendship went wrong.” You pleaded. “I miss you, Kie. But somewhere in this mess of what our lives have become, you and I fell apart and I can’t figure out why…”

“...I saw you.” She struggled out, failing to maintain eye contact as she spoke. “During John B’s memorial, I saw JJ kiss you.” She said. “And…I felt this, this pang of jealousy. And at first, I thought it was because things weren’t going great with Pope. But at some point, I realized it wasn’t that. So, I jumped to the next reasonable conclusion — that I liked JJ.” She sighed. “Seeing the way he looked at you, I thought maybe I wanted him to look at me like that. Y’know, maybe I had feelings for him and was just realizing it. That’s why I kissed him in Charleston.” She explained sadly, eyes finally meeting yours.

“It was a shitty thing, I know.” She scolded herself, hands waving wildly. “Kissing him to figure out my feelings while you two had something going on wasn’t cool, I know that. I hate myself for it. Because it was pointless.” She swallowed. “...I didn’t…feel anything. I kissed him and I felt nothing. And it didn’t hurt my feelings when he pushed me away and told me he didn’t see me that way. And I was so angry at myself but confused, too…” She said, almost like she was working out her thoughts as they left her lips. “Because if I didn’t like JJ, then why couldn’t I stomach the sight of you two together?” 

You listened as she spoke and you were glad you were finally getting her side, truly. But the direction this was going…

“...And then, seeing you in Barry’s trailer. That’s when everything fell into place.” She said, a stray tear rolling down her cheek. “Seeing you like that made my entire world stop. I wanted to be the one to scoop you up and hold you and tell you everything would be okay. And my heart shattered when I realized that I couldn’t, not in the way I wanted to.” She confessed, taking one weary step in your direction. “I know it’s a weird way to come to a conclusion like that, but…I think that’s when I realized I wasn’t in love with Pope or JJ.” She said, shaking her head. “...I’m in love with you. I don’t know when it happened or how or…why…” She confessed, voice wavering.

“And I’m sorry.” She cried, wiping her eyes. “For being such a bitch and ruining our friendship over something so stupid. Because I know that it’s too late and even if it wasn’t, even if you weren’t with JJ — you and me would never be anything. And the thought kills me every time.” You didn’t know what to say, standing completely still and listening to her talk. Although, you weren’t sure if you were listening. 

Your longest best friend was standing less than a foot in front of you, telling you how she was in love with you. 

“So, if you hate me, I understand, okay?” She cried harder, pressing her hands into her eyes.

“I don’t hate you.” You finally spoke, voice flat and small as you made no move to comfort her. You didn’t know how. Would a hug make it worse? Would the touch of your hands on her skin make things better or worse? “Kie, I-” You stuttered to find a response. “I don’t know what to say…or do. Do you want a hug or…?”

There was no right way to go about this, you realized. You’d caused each other so much pain over the last few weeks — knowingly or unknowingly, justified or unjustified, it was all the same.

The brown-haired girl just shook her head, wiping her eyes clean. When she made eye contact with you, her eyes were red and slightly puffy as she nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “No, please, don’t.” She requested, voice breaking. “It’s my fault.”

Your face fell at her words, taking a single step in the girl’s direction. “Don’t say that.” You said softly. “You did some shitty things, for sure.” You laughed lightheartedly. “But…you can’t control how you feel. You can’t dictate who you love…”

You words only made her face twist further in sadness. “...I never wanted to hurt you.” She sighed sadly, eyes filling with tears once again. You simply gave her a tight-lipped smile of pity, gently taking one of her hands in your own.

“Neither did I.” You assured, your own voice wavering when the loud honking of a horn came from outside — the both of you jumping at the loud noise.

“Guess our time’s up…” Kiara spoke, avoiding your eyes once more as she let her hand fall from yours as she turned towards the door. You nodded to yourself, taking a breath and grabbing your bag from the table and securing it before throwing it over your shoulder once more, whistling for Marley who met you swiftly at the command.

Kiara opened the door, the Golden Retriever bolting out of the house and to the SUV, wagging her tail as she waited for you to open the door. You walked out of the door silently as Kie held it open, letting it close behind herself as you both walked back to the car, shoes crunching once more as you swiftly turned to face your friend, stopping her in her tracks.

“I…” You stuttered. You didn’t know what you wanted to say or planned to say. But you felt like you should say something. But no words would come out. 

Kie just offered you a sad smile, patting your shoulder. “It’s okay.” She said to you. “I’m happy for you. Honestly, I am.” She spoke, voice low seeing as you standing right next to the vehicle with her parents inside. “You’ve been through so much and you deserve to be happy. You deserve to be with someone who makes you happy. And JJ is that person, not me. I can see it your eyes and his — you’re meant for each other. And one day, I’ll be fine with that.” She said, not waiting for you to speak as she went around the other side of the car, getting in.

You stood in silent contemplation for a few moments before snapping back to reality — opening your door for Marley to jump in as you threw your bag to the floor and jumped in, shutting the door as Mr.Carrera drove off, the radio playing lowly.

When did your life become such a mess?

IT WAS THE NEXT MORNING AND YOU WERE LISTENING TO MUSIC AS YOU STRAIGHTENED OUT YOUR BED SHEETS. You’ll admit, it was nice to have your own room again and have some normality as a teenage girl. 

Some…

You and Kie hadn’t said more than two words to each other since last night — those two words being ‘good morning’ as you awkwardly passed each other on the way out of your rooms and downstairs to join the Carreras for breakfast. 

The meal was awkward but mildly comforting. It was nice to feel part of a family again, even if deep down something was telling you this picture-perfect act wouldn’t last long. 

You heard Mr. and Mrs.Carrera loud and clear — break their rules and it’s Camp for Cuckoos. 

After breakfast, you’d freshened up and started to put your room together. Mrs.Carrera had generously gone and bought you a bed set, some new clothes, and even some small decorations to make the place feel less empty. She even went as far as to buy Marley, who was sunbathing in the middle of your floor, a new, much less worn and tattered, bed that was sitting in the corner of your newly furnished space.

Even if it was only temporary, you figured you could get used to this. It was still in the early hours of the morning as you played interior decorator — your music pausing on your bluetooth speaker as a call came through.

Picking up the device, a smile spread on your face from ear to ear as you answered. “Hi, Blondie.”

“Good mornin’ to you, princess.” JJ’s voice broke through the other end. “You sound wide awake. That’s a first.” He said, the sound of wind whipping by coming from his end.

“And you don’t sound like you’re home.” You pointed out skeptically.

“I’m never home.”

‘Y’know what I mean…” You pressed, sitting on your bed and rubbing your hand over the soft blanket. 

“I’m with Bree, right now and we, uh, may need a little assistance, if you will.” He told you, voice sounding nervous even through the device.

“...What’s wrong now?” You asked.

“Well, uh, Rafe’s got the cross and Pope latched onto the back of his truck and went God knows where and Rose has Sarah and she’s taking her to some loading dock.” JJ explained quickly, hearing both boys curse as John B took a sharp turn, you assumed. “So, the two of us can’t really do this by ourselves but John B here is determined.”

You bit your lip in contemplation — breaking the rules on day one?

...Seemed pretty on brand.

“I’ll be there soon.” You assured before hanging up the phone. You stood in thought for a few moments, opening the Find My app on your phone to see how far your two friends were, trying to mentally decipher whether you could get away with just sneaking out or if you’d have to sneak out and sneak your car keys which were sitting on the counter downstairs…where Kie’s parents were.

A quick request from your location to JJ’s told you that without your car, the estimated distance would jump from a forty-five minute drive to a three-hour walk. You sighed and peeked out of your window. To your surprise, the Carrera’s SUV was gone, leaving only your freshly fixed Ford in the drive way, looking cleaner than ever.

A small smile of relief spread on your face as you quickly exited your room, skipping down the steps and heading for the kitchen only to find Mike and Anna downstairs — Mr. Carrera testing new recipes to add to the menu down at The Wreck while Mrs. Carrera cleaned up the dishes he left behind.

Both of the adults turned to you at the sound of your feet skidding to a stop. 

“Good morning, again, Y/N.” Mrs. Anna smiled at you, dropping dishes into the sink. “Are we in your way? Did you need something?”

Your mouth gaped like a fish until you settled on a smile. “No, just…came down for a snack.” You lied, both of them sending you a polite smile in return as they returned to paying you no mind. Eyeing the arrangement of small chip bags conveniently placed next to the dish that held all the keys, you padded across the kitchen, noisily grabbing one of the bags to mask the jingling of the keys before shoving the metal in your pocket and heading upstairs.

Your face twisted as you ascended the staircase — if the Carrera’s were downstairs, where was their car?

Allowing your intuition to guide you, you skipped the door to your room to stand in front of Kie. A twist of the knob and a push of the door told you that the brown-haired girl who wasn’t occupying her room was responsible for the missing vehicle outside. You wondered where she went before remembering you had her location as well.

Closing her door softly, you pulled your phone out once more to see that she was driving in the middle of the woods. How long had she been gone and where was she going? Pinching your fingers to zoom out, you could see she was closer to Pope than any of you, that realization answering your question.

With the turn of events this morning was taking, you wouldn’t be in this nice house much longer before you and Kie were being shipped off to Kitty Hawk.

Entering your room, you closed the door gently and threw the bag of chips on your bed. Trotting over to the window, you lifted the glass and screen — the familiar North Carolina breeze hitting you as you did. You looked back at the bedroom door one last time, feeling bad for having to ruin something good. But these were your friends. Your family. Helping them wasn’t a question.

Tiptoeing onto the roof and closing the window, you quietly made your way down to the driveway — getting into the driver’s seat and quickly driving off.

“WHAT IS THAT?” You could hear John B’s hushed voice as you got closer to the sound you were emitting. “Dude! Turn that off! Why are you ringing?” He reprimanded his blonde friend as you approached the two of them from behind from where they were hiding behind a family of crates and boxes.

“It’s Y/N, I don’t know why she’s pinging me-”

“Hi.” you said quietly, standing in between your two best friends as they jumped at the sound of your voice. You tapped the button on your phone to stop JJ’s from making noise.

“Jesus!” JJ whisper-yelled, both boys sighing as they looked at you.

“You should find a better way to announce yourself when we’re on important missions.” John B told you, steading himself.

“Well, having your location doesn’t really help when your in a junky ass shipyard.” You sassed, shooting a grimace at the boy which he returned in full.

“We said the pinging was for emergencies only.” JJ told you, putting his phone on silent and shooting you a playful glare.

“It was!” You said, hushed. “I couldn’t find you and I had to hop the fence. What is this? A private dock?.”

“Guys,” John B grabbed your attention. “I think that’s their ship.” He said, pointing at the large boat the dock members were anchoring.

“Wait,” JJ started. “The Coastal Venture…” He thought to himself. “Dude, I know that ship. My dad did legs on her last summer, it’s a total tramp steamer. I worked on her in port…”

“There’s the cross.” You added, referring to the wooden crate being lifted with a pullet system — what look like Rafe with two unknown men standing and watching as they pulled it up.

“God, I hate that guy…” John B whispered as he eyed Rafe from afar. You couldn’t agree more. “There she is.” He piped up, eyes drifting to the side — Rose and Wheezie walking behind Sarah, who was being escorted roughly towards the ship. “Guys, we gotta come up with a plan.” John B urged to the two of you.

“I know.” JJ said. “We’re working on it.” He continued as your eyes scanned the ship, thinking of possibilities.

“Hey,” You cut in. “If we can get over that barge, we can go over. We’ll have to get in the water, though.” 

“Then we’re gonna be sitting ducks-”

“Howdy.” Kie’s voice startled the trio of you, her and Pope’s footsteps coming to a stop as they appeared behind you three.

“Whoa!” JJ exclaimed, whipping around before realizing it was just his two friends. “I was about to stab your eyes out…How’d you guys even find us?”

“Geo-located your phone.” She said simply. You made brief eye contact with the girl before you both looked away, the action not going unnoticed by your observant boyfriend but he seemed to settle on saying nothing.

“Yo, Pope. You okay?” John B asked, a hand on the boy’s shoulder as you all looked at him — covered in dried mud and dirt and specks of blood. “What happened?”

“Rafe, round three.” Pope whispered, voice raspy.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Again?” JJ said angrily.

“This was a tie.” Pope told the blonde, calming his boiling rage. “Is that the cross?” He asked, eyes on the wooden crate across the shipyard. He sounded so focused and determined.

“Yeah…” You answered, sighing. “And they’re holding Sarah hostage.”

“We gotta get on that boat.” Kie worried, hand on her forehead.

“First, we gotta get past the Goon Squad.” JJ pointed out a crowd of workers and guards that would surely kick you all out.

“We gotta move.” John B urged, the four of you walking forward before he looked back and saw that Pope was going the opposite direction. “Pope, what’re you doing?”

“I have an idea.” He held out a cautious palm. “Just trust me.”

“No-”

“Trust me and go.” Pope called, walking away. “I’ll meet up with you guys.” He said before disappearing. But something was screaming at you to follow him, to not leave him alone. So, in the middle of your running, you quickly turned and headed the opposite way.

“Hey!” JJ called, eyeing you wildly. “Where are you goin’?” 

“To help Pope.” You told him, never faltering in your steps. “He’s not thinking straight and it doesn’t feel right to leave him alone. Just go, okay? We’ll meet up with you guys.” You urged him before turning away and following Pope’s trail.

You arrived to the boy just in time to find him unscrewing the tops to a family of propane tanks. “Pope.” You whispered, creeping up to him to avoid being seen. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Creating a distraction.” He told you bluntly, stepping away once at least three of the tanks were hissing — the gas being released as he stood back, pulling a gun from his pocket. 

“Jesus-!” Your eyes went wide, immediately stepping forward and grabbing the weapon from his hands. “I’m not going to ask questions about how or why…” You said, referring to the gun as you pushed him back with a firm hand on his chest. “But, Pope, you’re already caked in dirt and shit.” You pointed out. “...But, you are the brains of this shit so if you think causing an explosion will help us get on that boat, then fine. But you’re not getting whiplash after fighting.”

Turning away from the boy, you cocked the gun back — aiming it directly at the tanks.

“Y/N-”

“It’s fine, Pope.” You breathed, glancing back at him quickly. “We’re gonna get your cross.” You assured before refocusing your sights and pulling the trigger, barely having time to register your actions before you were blown back by the explosion, you and Pope landing on your backs as smoke filled your airways.

“Oh, shit…” You coughed, pushing yourself up as you heard a marching band of feet coming your way. “Pope, c’mon, we gotta go.” You urged, helping the boy up as you both ran from the scene and to your friends.

You both fell to a stop in front of the three of them, breathing heavily as you dropped the gun to the ground.

“What did you do?” JJ asked, worried, crouching down in front of you and brushing hair out of your face.

You just coughed before laughing and tapping the brim of his hat. “We were playing with guns.” You smiled, one last cough leaving your lungs as the blonde rolled his eyes and helped you up, fighting the smile growing on his face.

“You’re a dork.” He scoffed, placing a small kiss on your lips.

“Pope, what was that?” John B asked, helping up his friend. 

Pope just ignored his question, pointing to The Coastal Venture. “Look. That’s container’s going on the ship. We can get in that way.” He told the five of you — John B wasting no time in charging for where Pope had pointed, the rest of you following.

Pope leaped into the back of the shipping container without hesitation, JJ being the first to speak up. “Hold up,” He urged, looking up at the curly-haired boy in the container. “Did you think this through?”

Pope didn’t even seem to think before answering, tone blunt and short. “Yes. This is the plan.”

“That’s a trap right there. You see that right?” JJ asked, pointing to the other shipping boxes. “We can’t get out once we get in-” The blonde panicked, John B stepping forward and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” He started, looking JJ in his eyes. “You guys don’t have to come, alright?” He offered, briefly glancing at you and Kie as well. 

“Right.” Pope agreed, nodding his head at the three of you. “This is our fight.” He told you all — referring to himself and John B.

You, Kiara, and JJ shared a weary glance before JJ tossed his hands out and tilted his head, eyes on yours. “P4L?”

You glanced nervously inside the dark, tight space, cringing — were you claustrophobic? Because that’s what it felt like. Looking back at JJ, a groan rose from your throat. “P4L…” You exhausted, turning and sticking your hand up for Pope to help you up into the container — followed shortly by JJ, then Kie, then John B.

“Guess it’s better than boarding school…” Kie pondered, pulling her lips into a thin line.

The five of you bolted to the back of the container, crouching hiding behind the contents of the space. You and your friends watched, holding your breath, as a man came by and swiftly inspected the container with a flashlight before seemingly deciding nothing was amiss.

“Okay, she’s good to go. Lock her up.” He patted his hand against the metal.

Your breath shuddered as the men sealed the space shut, leaving you all with dim light and humid oxygen. Metal clanked and engines revved as you felt the container begin to sway — you were being lifted onto the ship. It was such an odd feeling, so much so it made your stomach turn in the oddest of ways — JJ taking notice and intertwining your fingers with his.

You shot the blonde an appreciative smile before looking straight ahead to calm yourself. 

The five of you groaned as your heads and backs hit the walls of the container as it touched down, letting out breaths of relief.

There was no telling how this was going to play out or end, for that matter.

But hey, P4L, right?

next chapter>

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

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[honeysickledream]

Who's Who, Darling? Part 2 | Poly141 x F!Reader

Tags / cw: NSFW (Smut) fivesome (F/M/M/M/M), fingering (f!receiving), p in v, protected sex, blindfolds, finger sucking, a bit of spanking, light pussy slapping, edging (ig?), orgasm denial of sorts, birth control (IUD) mention, Reader is referred to as Pet a handful of times (mainly by Price), offscreen masturbation, polyamory discussions and agreements, no use of Y/N, no descriptions of reader | if i missed anything, let me know! MINORS DNI (18+) w/c: ~3.4k Pt. 1 | AO3 A/n: this whole thing got away from me, it’s a long one. I’ve been slowly writing it as life hits me upside the head with a new pan every other day. If parts feel rushed, that’s predominately why. Proofread in the middle of the night so ignore typos, please. Also, happy Halloween! divider by @/saradika-graphics

The guys are making coffee and tea when you manage to pull yourself out of the bed and stumble into the kitchen. You’re flashed a smile by each and given pecks on the cheeks as you rub the sleep from your eyes and try to adjust to being alive and having them in your house—last night seeming like some mouthwatering fever dream. Soap suddenly proposes that he make breakfast for everyone and you whine, knowing just how inept he is in the kitchen. The little kitchenette in the break room on base has been closed down more times than anyone can count because he manages to set something on fire.

Price quickly banishes Soap to the living room and sends you along with him, but not before he hands you a warm mug filled with your favorite drink doctored just the way you liked it. There’s not much room on the couch, not with Soap sitting on the middle cushion with his legs spread out as far as they’ll go. He gives you a look—the ‘come sit on my lap, I don’t bite’ look—and you give in. It’s too early in the morning to be stubborn, to be standing honestly, and you’re chilly despite the heat being on.

His thick arms wrap around you, pulling you as close as they can, and he turns on the TV. You notice as you take small sips from your mug that Soap’s eyes are trained on your throat as it bobs with each swallow. He gives you the sweetest look as he asks—begs almost—to give your throat a kiss. Tells you he’s been wanting to do it for ages now and that he promises not to bite.

Fucking liar he is. One peck to the center of your throat turns into another, then a dozen more with faint nibbles between each one. He licks your throat, too, which causes your breath to catch and thighs to press together. The throbbing in your clit worsens when he noses at your pulse point and whines, hips jerking lightly against your ass.

Ghost’s voice cuts through the faint buzzing in your ears and you wince as your arousal dissipates. He tells you breakfast is ready, but you’re not released from Soap’s intense hold. Ghost gives him a glare and Soap’s hips buck once more in response. You’re given one last nip before Soap lets you push off him. He trails behind you, the hem of your sleep shirt caught between two fingers.

Your place at the table has been set elegantly, as if you were royalty. Price pours you a glass of juice while Gaz pushes your chair in and lays a napkin (really it’s just the second cheapest kind of paper towel you could get) in your lap. Ghost places your plate before you and awkwardly gives your head a pat when you thank him. It’s awfully charming being treated so well by them, but there’s a bit of suspicion lurking in the back of your mind.

It’s not your fault the men you’ve entertained in the past have be lackluster in…well, just about every way.

They all sit on the other side of the table, crammed together like sardines in a tin as they dig into their own omelets and hash. Your omelet was the prettiest that’d been made: no tearing along the seam, perfect gold spots across the outside. The seasonings used were light and complementary. Ghost had been the one to cook it, you reasoned. He was a maestro in the kitchen, always bringing in little bits of what he’d cooked the night before to team meetings or sharing his food during breaks in the rec room when it wasn’t under repair because of Soap.

Your appetite quickly fades as you wonder when the topic of ‘Round Two’ will be mentioned, or if Ghost and Gaz’s hints of things turning into something more will be touched on. Both have been sitting in the back of your mind since last night to the point you recall vague dreams regarding them. The anticipation of a talk makes faint nausea build in your belly as your heart keeps wondering and hoping, hoping, hoping—

Price clears his throat and your fork skids on the plate. The screeching of metal on porcelain makes your skin crawl and your teeth ache. All four of the guys look at you with concern and you wave them off, quickly taking a sip of juice. The anticipated conversation begins once you swallow, no chance of any spit takes or choking.

He puts it all very plainly: the four of them do want you. They’d been keen on you for the longest but had all agreed to refrain from making any moves to preserve camaraderie but then you’d gone and complained about your workload and not being laid. The perfect opportunity for them, for you. He tells you they’d talked about how things would go afterwards, the proposition of some kind of…situation or legitimate relationship between you and all of them.

It’s stressed that there’s no pressure, no true expectations of anything—the military’s funny that way sometimes; the expectation for anything to work out often squashed without realizing once it begins to grow. Soap becomes a little pouty when Gaz assures you they’ll all be okay if you decline round two of the bet, or if you ask them to just forget anything ever happened.

That’s when you ask if you can say your piece and you’re given the floor. You find it flattering, and jarring, that they’ve all had their eye on you for a while. You admit you can’t help but pay close attention to them as well. Sometimes you think you know their personalities, talents, and appearances better than your own. And you express that round two is something you desperately want to have happen. But, the prospect of a relationship of any kind between the five of you makes you twitchy despite the last twelve or so house of constant dreamy pondering.

You explain, not in too much detail, that your past relationships and dynamics haven’t been the healthiest. Each one adding a new boundary and expectation to an already long list. Anyone you get with in the hopes of something serious is quickly met with said list because you’ve learned to never assume that people will be good and faithful. You tell them that you’re willing to explore things with them if they’re amenable to be respectful of that list—and of course, you would be be respectful of their limits.

They hear you out when you tell them you’d want something closed, just the five of you. Everyone intertwined in various pairings if that’s what they wanted, but no outside people. Too complicated, too risky in some circumstances. No one throws a fit or even looks the least bit bothered by the boundary which settles your nausea significantly. Slow and steady is your next big point. You want to explore things with them as they come up naturally, be it kinks or troubles or life in general. Rushing to force an experience, you have found, cheapens it and leads to some form of relationship burnout that you don’t want to experience with them or have them experience with you.

It’s all quite formal, their agreeing to what you want and stating their own boundaries—no secrets, the relationship still exists but becomes second place when on a mission or otherwise at work, communication remains at the forefront of everything—which you’re happy to agree to. You’re half-tempted to get some pens and paper to really seal the deal, but you settle for pinking-promising with Soap which seems to be enough for the others.

Breakfast is through not long after, and you work with the guys to put away leftovers and clean up the kitchen. You get a kiss on the cheek or shoulder, a firm hand pressing your back whenever they pass by you. It makes your skin heat, your stomach and heart in some mild flux at the constant sweet attention that is all yours. They receive their own affections from you, a peck in return for a peck, a gentle lean into their side when their shoulders brush yours.

Soap mentions needing a change of clothes—toiletries, too—and the others echo him. They’d be gone for a while, base was a healthy distance from your home which is just how you like it, but you didn’t want to be alone while getting ready for round two. You ask if they can grab some of Price’s stuff to bring back while they’re on base so he can hand around to take part in the prep since he got so little time with you last night.

And that’s exactly what led to you trying to tune out the grating voices of sports casters while being prepped on the couch.

Price has been idly fingering you for the last hour while watching a rerun of a football game he missed during the last deployment. He slowly presses two of his thick fingers into your cunt, keeps them still for a moment or two before he crooks them and you tense around them. Then he pulls them most of the way out while spreading them bit by bit, only to push them back in.

Occasionally he’ll get a text, sometimes multiple at a time and you know it’s from the others because of the little text tones. Whatever they send him has his hips bucking, causing his hard cock to rub against your stomach for a bit of friction before he settles.

You want to bite him for being such a fucking tease but you can’t find much purchase to do so given that you’re draped over his lap and pinned there, face buried in one of your fluffy throw pillows that Soap teased you for owning. You also remember that it was you who asked him to stay behind to prep you and to do it his way.

The front door opens and you perk up to the best of your ability. You try to squirm a bit so you can go greet the others and find out what they’d been up to, but John’s hold on you tightens. He gives your bare ass a light slap, soothing over the spot as the faint burn of pain faded. The others come into view and you whine at them, but they don’t pay you any mind, leaving you to your fate with Price as they go to the bedroom, shopping bags and luggage in hand.

“I didn’t know they were going to the shop, too. What did they get?” you ask Price.

“You’ll find out when we’re ready for you to,” he says as he slowly presses a third finger into you. The stretch is bordering on uncomfortable. His free hands soothes your tensing back. “Three’s all we’ll do—that’s what we agreed on. Relax for me, pet.”

You huff, feigning annoyance while relaxing to the best of your ability. His three fingers are about as wide as your biggest toy. The same one that sits at the back of your nightstand drawer, used only when you have a fully uninterrupted day off, something you haven’t had in ages. It simply takes too long to prep yourself and when you’re ready, you’re too tired—annoyed, too, sometimes—to do more than cockwarm it for a while. It was also hit and miss if penetration did much for you.

Something thuds in the bedroom and you bang your head against the fluffy pillow. “If they break something up there—“

“Nothing’s broken, pet. Gaz probably tripped on Soap’s damn boots, or Ghost’s turned one of them into a pretzel for being annoying,” Price said.

Price gets a text and he pulls his fingers out of you slowly. He’s gentle as he grabs hold of you, a wall of muscle for you to lean on as the shaky muscles in your legs remember how to work. The bed’s been stripped down to the fitted sheet and mattress protector under it, a lone pillow is at the foot of the bed. Water bottles and a variety of snacks have been laid out on your desk, the lights dimmed and tower fan turned on to manage the temperature. Ghost hands you a lilac satin blindfold, a definite upgrade to the sleep mask he’s now tossing in the trash bin under your desk.

A quick refresher of the dos and don’ts and safe words are had before Ghost helps you lay the strip of fabric over your eyes and tie it in place. You casually drop that if the others want to toy around with you while you try to determine who’s fucking you, they should go for it.

Four sets of hands guide you onto the bed and put you on your knees, the pillow secure under your elbows. Belt buckles clank and fabric rustles, you hear whispers before a box is opened and foil is crinkled—condoms. Condoms had escaped your mind but not theirs, and you’re glad. Sure you’ve got an IUD that’s going to need replacing in a handful of months, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. None of you could afford the scare that came along with not using condoms.

The bed dips as one of them kneels behind you and you try not to flinch when a firm hands rests on your hip. You arch your back as his tip presses against your slit with the slightest bit of pressure. It’s when he slowly presses into you that you realize just how necessary Price’s three fingers were. The stretch makes you shudder and clench, your inner voice reminding you relax as he massages your hips.

You give him a quick thumbs up when you feel situated enough. His movements are slow at first, he pulls out halfway before guiding you back until your ass is flush with his hips. You feel unruly hairs scratch your cheeks and shake your head, knowing full well who it is: Soap. You may or may not have caught a few glimpses of his bush, at least the top bit, during the times he stretches his arms over his head after unbuckling his belt post-mission or training.

He reaches around and between your legs to toy with your poor clit that had been ignored by Price for a whole hour. You whine into the pillow as your body shudders with pleasure and your hips jerk to chase his teasing fingers, pulling you out of the steady pace that had been set. You hold off on saying his name because he’s at least trying to be a giving partner, but it stumbles from your lips when his pace gets faster and jostles you closer to the edge of the bed.

Per the rules of the bet, his turn is over. He slips out and carefully pulls you from the edge. You feel a little bad that he didn’t come, but then he groans softly across the room and you know he’s taking care of himself just fine. And probably sitting naked on your leather desk chair at that.

Someone gently turns you onto your back and settles between your legs, cool hands guiding them to hook around his hips. You’re given a bit of time to adjust to him before he’s leaning on his left forearm and thrusting into you firmly. There’s no way to identify him by his manscaping, or lack thereof, and he hasn’t started using his hands or making sounds, which quickly frustrates you.

Patience isn’t your main virtue, you’re learning.

You scrunch your nose and move your brows, trying to get the satin blindfold to shift so you can get a glimpse of something but you hear someone ‘tsk-tsk’. Then a hand slaps your cunt lightly—Price’s hand, it felt the same when he spanked your ass earlier. You writhe and moan as Price occasionally pats your clit while you’re getting fucked, the stimulation causing that dizzying tension in your belly to coil tighter and tighter.

Those thinner, longer fingers that tormented you last night ghost over your lips and you part them. You lay your tongue out flat and then lick the finger that prods at the pointed tip of your tongue. Your lips wrap around two of his fingers and suck lightly, moving your tongue against the undersides. The man doubles over, hips stuttering as he comes. He pulls his fingers free and you wipe the spit from your lips as you say his name—Gaz—softly. He presses a kiss to your lips before pulling away and hopping off the bed.

Either Price or Ghost take Gaz’s place quickly, resuming his pace to keep your arousal from dissipating. You’re hoisted up by four hands and you quickly wrap your arms around the man’s neck. He guides your hips to rock with his as he whispers in your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek. Ghost lays you back down as you do what he asks and say his name. He wanted Price to have the final go, to have his fun and to make you come.

You latch onto Price like a leech when he hovers over you. That hour of prepping you taught him exactly what to do, where to press and when. As he pulls out, his thumb moves faster against your clit before slowing as he thrusts in, your back arching and body burning. Sweet praise comes at you from all sides, filling your brain with cotton as you try not to let go too quickly but when Price calls you their ‘sweet pet’, it’s all over. You’re coming around his cock, crying out brokenly as hands move across your body to limit the jerking of your limbs. For a moment everything’s quiet, then a heavy and hot weight is on top of you, panting in your ringing ears.

Price pushes off of you and helps you sit up against a bunch of pillows that are shoved under you. A water bottle is shoved in your face right as the blindfold comes off. You sip at it while you watch Soap, Gaz and Ghost bumble naked around the bedroom to find the wet wipes the apparently bought, and your backup sheets and mattress protector. Price is half holding you as he asks how you feel and if everything was done to your liking. You tell him you’re good but tired, and that it was quite enjoyable. You check in with them, as well, getting smiles along with affirmative answers.

The next thing you know, all four of them are filtering in and out of your shower, quickly washing up and helping you do the same before they tap in the next one. Dinner consists of five different pizzas, a shabby blanket fort in the living room, and a campy horror film that puts you to sleep across their laps halfway through it.

What if I put reader on leave with in an array of dildos and a new vibrator while the guys go on a mission…? I’m thinking some thoughts. Anyways, poor Soap. He hasn’t even come close to making reader come and it makes me so happy. He’s the character I love to be sadistic towards. Last time it was Ghost x Gaz who got her off, now it’s Price. He’ll get his turn eventually…

[janeyseymour]

Love Thy Neighbor- pt 6

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5.

Summary: Ellie's sick. Cue Melissa to jump in to help.

WC: ~2.7k

Over the past few months, the way that the redhead has made herself present in your life has only gotten stronger. She’s with you in the morning for breakfast, during the drive to and from school, she shows up when you need help with school work, there when you just need some adult time. She’s there for Ellie when she needs help with homework, wants to cuddle but you’re busy, there when she’s excited or sleepy, has had a nightmare and she’s with you on the couch, shows up when her dance class has a parent night… she’s just there. She always is.

But you still don’t want to ruin what you have going on. Life is easy and nice right now with her… if you two decide to date and it falls apart, she’s gone. Or you’re gone. You suppose that if it were all to go up in flames, this is her apartment complex, Abbott is her school, the coworkers that you’ve become friendly with are hers. The only thing that you would get out of a breakup with the redhead is your daughter. And even then, you’re fairly certain at this point that Ellie would be more devastated about not seeing Melissa than she is about the absence of her father. So you haven’t done anything about it yet. 

But that’s about to change… not that you know it.

Ellie’s been sniffling a lot lately, but you’ve just contributed it to the fact that the seasons are changing, you have allergies, her father has allergies… so naturally she should have inherited your seasonal allergies. You don’t realize that she’s picked up what seems to be making its way through Barbara’s classroom.

Your daughter is currently putting up the biggest fight of her life. She does not want to go to school, which is so unusual for her. She’s flat out refusing to eat the breakfast that Melissa made, she’s sticking her nose up at every sweater for her to put over her uniform that you try to show her, and she bursts into tears when you tell her that she can’t bring her stuffy to school with her because it isn’t a stuffy day.

“Elizabeth,” you sigh. You’re slowly starting to lose your patience. “Come on. We have to go to school today.”

“Why?! Other kids are not coming in because they’re sick!”

“Because you aren’t sick, baby,” you tell her as you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Now please. We have to be out the door in ten minutes, and Momma isn’t ready for school yet.” You suppose you’ll have to do your makeup in the car while your neighbor drives in to the school.

“I don’t feel good though,” she whines.

At that, you soften. You place the back of your hand on her forehead, cheeks, and the back of her neck. She’s a little warm, but it’s nothing to be worried over.

“I’m sorry, lovey,” you sigh. “You just have to make it through today, and then when we get home tonight, we can cuddle.”

As you’re leaving the house, you throw a few tylenol in your bag for Ellie if she needs it throughout the day.

The girl clings to Melissa as soon as she’s back in your apartment, and the redhead does everything she can to try to get Ellie to smile- it doesn’t work. She just lays her head on the woman’s shoulder and sighs heavily. 

You’re able to get your daughter into the school, and by then her cheeks are a little flushed. But she did fall asleep during the short car ride over, so you think that the red on her right cheek is from where her seatbelt was. 

Ellie stays in Melissa’s lap during the morning news, and when it’s time for her to go with Barbara down to the classroom, the water works start again. 

Melissa hands your daughter over to her kindergarten teacher with a shrug. You kiss Ellie’s temple gently, telling her to have a good day, before you and the redhead are making your way down to your wing. 

“What’s got pipsqueak so upset today?” your colleague asks quietly.

You bite your lip. “She isn’t feeling well I don’t think.”

She frowns. “Poor thing. Shouldn’t she be home? Or with your parents resting?”

“My parents are galavanting around Europe right now,” you huff. “Or she would be.”

“You could’ve taken off today to keep her home.”

You roll your eyes. “We are so short on subs lately, and I don’t need to have Mr. Johnson as my sub if I can help it.”

“Fair point,” Melissa chuckles. “Last time he was my sub, the kids came in the next day telling me all about the fourth dimension.”

It’s only about 9:30 when your classroom phone rings. It’s Barbara, so you tell your kids to work on the next math problem before answering it.

“Ellie still hasn’t calmed down,” the kindergarten teacher tells you quickly. “I’m not quite sure what else to do. I gave her stickers, I gave her hugs, I told her she could hold one of my stuffed animals…”

“I’m so sorry Barb,” you apologize.

“She should be home, Y/N,” the woman tells you sternly.

You breathe out. “I know… but I don’t have sub plans or a sub, and my parents aren’t around to come pick her up.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Maybe just send her down to the nurse so she can sleep on the cots?” you suggest. “I’ll call down and tell them the situation.”

The veteran teacher agrees and hangs up. You dial the nurse and beg her to let Ellie stay down there for the day while you teach. She begrudgingly agrees after you promise you’ll make her a key lime pie as payment.

Your prep comes faster than you really expect it to, and you line your kids up to take them down to the music room as Melissa is lining her kids up to take her class to gym.

“I can come to your room once I drop them,” the redhead tells you.

“You can, but I won’t be there,” you sigh as you fall into step with her. “I have to head down to the nurse’s office.”

“Ellie still isn’t feeling well?”

The two of you head into the nurse’s office, and the woman behind her desk doesn’t look very pleased with you. Ellie is laying on one of the cots crying.

“Oh, sweetness.” Your heart breaks at her little sniffles. As you pull her into your arms, you immediately feel how hot she is, but she’s trembling as if she’s standing out in the snow without her winter coat on.

“Momma,” she cries. “I’m so chilly!”

You immediately take your sweater off and drape it around her, pulling it tightly to her body. It seems to help, but she’s still cold despite the sweat forming around her brow.

“Kid’s been crying since she got here,” the nurse tells you. “Fever of 101. She should not be here.”

“I know, I know,” you mutter. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll make you a meatloaf as payment for having her down here,” Melissa tells the woman as she too shrugs off her blazer and gives it to your daughter.

“Miss Mel,” your daughter reaches for the redhead immediately.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” the second grade teacher says softly, but doesn’t take your daughter out of your arms. Ellie squirms, and while you try to fight the hurt on your face, it doesn’t quite work. “Stay with your momma, hun.”

“But I want you,” your daughter mumbles as a tear falls down her face. You hand her over.

“I should probably get some work done anyway,” you shrug. You start to head out of the nurse’s office, but the redhead follows.

“I thought we were going to work on your lesson plans,” she says softly, Ellie on her hip.

You shrug. “I can always get some other stuff done.”

The two of you work quietly in your room, Ellie clinging to the redhead and falling asleep rather quickly.

Your preps are over far sooner than desired, but such is life. When you look up from your teacher’s manual, Ellie is fast asleep in Melissa’s lap.

“Shit.”

“She’s fine,” the second grade teacher promises. She stands and starts to make her way down towards the gym.

You chase after her. “Mel, she has to go back to-”

“I can teach with her,” the redhead tells you. “It’ll probably keep my kids in line better than they would be if I wasn’t holding a small, sick child anyway.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” you argue back.

She waves you off. “You didn’t, I’m just doing it. And if it becomes too much, she can lay on my carpet with the bean bag and sleep there.”

“You’re going to get-”

“I’ve been teaching for years now,” she laughs. “My immune system is made of steel at this point. Don’t even worry about me. Just go get your kids and teach. We’ll see you at lunch.”

You watch as she makes her way down to the gym, Elizabeth in her arms and snoring softly. You see her press a delicate kiss to the girl’s sweaty hairline before smiling at her gently. The eyes that she’s looking at your daughter with are full of love and no selfishness in the slightest. If you weren’t sure before, you are now. Melissa is worth all of the risks in the world. You turn on your heel to pick up your kids from the music room.

Come lunch time, the redhead still has your daughter on her hip, and your heart swoons at the sight. The badass, mob-like teacher is just so soft and gentle with your little girl. Ellie is awake now, but she keeps her head resting in the crook of Melissa’s neck. As the two of you walk your kids to the lunchroom, Ellie waves at you sleepily.

“No sleeping again yet,” Melissa tuts quietly. “We have to make sure your belly is full and you drink some water before you nap again.”

“Mhmm,” your girl hums out sleepily.

Ellie spends the entirety of your lunch period wrapped up in your sweater and Melissa’s blazer curled up in your lap. You just barely get her to eat, but when Melissa attempts to get her to eat, she does so easily.

The rest of your friend group spends the period quietly, watching as the redhead handles your daughter with such a maternal warmth that they’ve never quite seen from her before. And when Ellie falls back asleep in your hold from your gentle rocking her, they fall silent at the steely gaze Melissa gives them. 

Ellie lets out a small whine for the redhead when you stand to pick your kids back up, and Melissa just takes her back into her arms with a wave of the hand.

“Pipsqueak’s been a good human heater for me,” she chuckles before glancing at your daughter. “Isn’t that right?”

The six year old nods into her shoulder before turning her head and blowing you a tired kiss.

“Only a couple more hours, and then you can curl up at home with your momma, okay hun?” she tries to assure the little girl.

“And you?”

“And me, if you want.”

“Yes, please,” Ellie requests softly.

At the end of the day, you make your way outside to help monitor dismissal alongside your neighbor. Ellie is still in her arms and fast asleep. She’s been asleep on the redhead for quite some time if the rather large wet spot on Melissa’s shoulder is any indication.

“My poor little girl,” you sigh as you brush a few hairs away from your daughter’s face. You kiss her head gently.

“She’s been out for a while,” Melissa tells you quietly. “But let me tell you, my kids have never been more well behaved.”

“You’ve been holding her since lunch?!”

“I tried to set her down on the carpet, and she stayed there for about five minutes before coming back over to me and begging me to hold her because she was cold. I just taught from my desk.”

“You could’ve sent her over to me,” you tell your coworker.

She shrugs. “I didn’t mind having the little one with me.”

Ellie stays asleep throughout dismissal and the drive home. When Melissa pulls into the parking garage at your complex, you grab your things and collect your daughter before turning back to walk in with the redhead. She’s still in the driver’s seat though.

“Go in. I have to run to the grocery store if I’m going to make my Nonna’s chicken noodle soup for the two of you.”

“I can make-”

“Trust me when I tell you this stuff will have El healed in no time flat, and you’re going to want it for when you get sick too,” your neighbor tells you. “I’ll be over once I’m back.”

You head in and settle yourself on the couch. Ellie lays on top of you, fast asleep and shivering. You kiss her forehead before reaching for the remote to turn on the television. There’s no way you’re going to get any work done tonight- you have to step up and be the mother for your daughter you always promised you would be.

The little girl only stirs when there’s a gentle knock on your front door, followed by the redhead stepping into your house and heading for the kitchen.

“Miss Mel?” she asks quietly.

“Yeah, baby,” you whisper back. “She’s making you soup so you can feel better.”

“I love Miss Mel,” she sighs quietly as she cuddles back into your hold.

You smile. “I do too.”

The woman brings three bowls of soup into the living room, along with two mugs of hot tea and some juice for Ellie, before settling on the couch next to you. The soup is amazing- not that you expected anything else.

When dinner is over, you give your daughter a bit of cold medicine, hoping she’ll feel better in the morning. She demands cuddles from both you and Melissa, but she’s quick to fall back asleep once she’s situated between the two of you. That leaves you and the redhead to chat about your days and have a bit of adult time. You know that you want to approach the situation at hand- the obvious feelings that she has for you and the feelings that you have for her.

“Why are you doing all this?” you finally ask.

“Doing what?” she raises a brow.

You gesture broadly. “All of this: helping us adjust to a new life, being here for Ellie, helping me get a job and then mentoring me, cooking us dinner… for heaven’s sake, you’re taking care of my child while she’s sick.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” she shrugs.

At that, you sigh. “Because I kind of expected to you hate me and stop coming over after I told you that us might never happen.”

“I could never hate you. I’d rather have you as a friend in my life than nothing at all,” she says softly as she places a hand over your own. “Besides,” she chuckles. “It’d be pretty awkward seeing each other at work and when we’re running in and out of the apartment if we stopped talking.”

You laugh softly. “Yeah.”

“And I think Ellie and I are something of kindred spirits,” the redhead says as she looks down at your slumbering daughter. “I couldn’t just leave her high and dry.”

You smile. “She’s a special one.”

“She is.”

“So are you,” you look at her with a soft gaze.

She rolls her eyes playfully. “I ain’t nothin’ special, hun.”

“You are,” you whisper as you squeeze her hand in your own. “So special.”

She rolls those striking green eyes again and turns her attention back to the television.

“Hey.” Melissa looks back to you, and you squeeze her hand again. “Special enough for me to throw caution to the wind and do this.” You press your lips to hers softly.

[niennawept]

I want to combine my two favorite unhinged fan theory factories into one:

Gil-galad is Adar's son

Okay, now that I have your attention, let's go on a journey that starts with two things:

Thing the first: I really love people's unhinged theories that Adar is a canon character. I don't think he is; I think he's just some guy that Rings of Power made up but it amuses me to no end when people come up with convoluted theories to make him a guy from canon.

Thing the second: The Silmarillion fandom has a long-standing in-joke about who Gil-galad's father really is. Christopher Tolkien told us that it was Fingon in the Silmarillion and later regretted it, because there was so much confusion in his father's notes on the subject and so many different candidates. Cue all kinds of cracky theories of who Gil galad's gil-gal-dad is. I would like to submit mine.

How does this theory work?

Well it's quite simple actually. Adar and some elven thrall lady hit it off in Angband and have a kid together kinda by accident through weird Angband-based magic. That is a problem because now she's got this like elf-looking baby that has black blood and also Angband is no place for an elf-looking baby. This could get them both into extremely capital 'b' - Bad - trouble.

So, Adar takes that baby and he sneaks into an elven camp and he does that old movie trope where he leaves the baby on the doorstep and then makes a noise so that that people inside the house will hear it. Only this time, it's a war tent and the person inside is Fingon.

Fingon picks up this adorable baby and the baby kind of looks like him and he's like well - I could adopt this baby right? So he goes back to a fort with this baby and Fingolfin takes one look at his son and takes one look at that baby and says to himself "my very gay son did probably did not produce this baby. However, it is probably the only grandchild I will get from him and he is my heir." So welcome home, son and grandson.

Is there any evidence?

Exhibit A: The GIF set that started it all. Look at the similarities! Connect the dots! And thank you, @fukutomichi, for starting off this crazy unhinged theory.

Exhibit B: During Season 2, Episode 1 "Elven Kings Under the Sky", there is a moment where the camera lingers on Adar while Gil-galad is singing his song. Now they actually probably did that because they wanted to remind the audience that Adar was formerly an elf, but this is an unhinged theory, so we're going to ignore the obvious reason they did that and assume that they're trying to connect them for some reason. Yes, that's right. They're trying to tell us that Gil-galad is Adar's son.

Exhibit C: Their their armor matches. The gorget that Gil-galad is wearing in Season 1, Episode 5 "Partings" is a perfect match to the river pattern that Adar is wearing on his armor. Coincidence? Normally, I'd say yes, but in this unhinged theory, I think not.

Exhibit D: In one version of the story, Gil-galad is his mother-name. Is that because his father-name is not elven? Is it because it's potentially uruk in origin?! And don't come at me with that Ereinion nonsense."Scion of kings?"* Sounds like someone's trying to underline a point there, eh? Almost like they're worried people won't think he's kingly enough.

Exhibit E: Gil-galad, despite ample time and opportunity, never marries or produces an heir. Why? Because he knows. He knows that if he does, some one will be close enough to learn his deep, dark secret: he has black blood and his child might too.

Are there holes in this theory? Absolutely; all the evidence is circumstantial at best. Do I care? Nope. This is for the pure, unhinged fun of it. Anyhow, if you need me I'll be headcanoning this for the rest of the run of Rings of Power until they show me Gil-galad's blood, mmmkay?

Thank you to @hellofeanor, @fishing4stars, @baddybaddyadardaddy for spitballing with me.

[angelyuji]

yandere rick sanchez headcanons

(obviously very ooc… like im taking his worst characteristics and turning the dial to 100)

cw // spoilers for literally the entire show, noncon, stalking, kidnapping, torture, being kept like a pet, drugging

18+

RAUEIA:ADOBAIDHJO?S{DH*}

canonically big dick like i need him BAD

guys im so in love with this old fucker

season 1+2 rick would definitely just keep you around for sex

the only reason he hasn’t gotten rid of you is cuz you’re a “good fuck”

literally treats you like an object or a cute little pet

“e-eat.” rick places a plate on a table he brought for you. he moves away to type on some computer. all you remember is a green portal in your room and a man you had never met dragging you out of bed. the room you were in was filled with computers and equipment. he didn’t bother to tie you up.

you don’t move, hearing your silence, rick turns to look at you. he burps, “i-i-i bring you some food out of the goodness of my h-heart and you’re not going to eat it?” you don’t answer. “s-s-stupid fucking b-bitch.” he moves over to grab you by the hair and pulls you closer to the table. “eat the fucking food.” you scream, your scalp searing in pain, as he shoves your face onto the table.

s1+2 rick kinda feels like the type to peer-pressure you into a drinking or doing drugs because he can

like he’d definitely force you to some alien drugs just cuz he can or cuz you’re not as resistant when you’re high off your balls

but season 3 and onward??? oh he’s so obsessed with you

let me explain this personality change

by season 3, rick is starting to care for his family so if you meet him after the whole federation prisoner arc of his, he’s more of like a clingy wet cat vibe… like imagine wisp the cat…. guys i lowkey cooked with that comparison

he’s allowed himself to care for his family (even sometimes jerry)

so when he meets you, this sweet, kind, beautiful person. he wants to protect you. he wants to keep you safe from all the shit that happens to the people in his life

constantly checks on you, calling and texting you daily. he always tries to play it off as a butt-dial

‘sdas’ you’re at work when your phone buzzes as rick’s text comes through. you look at the gibberish, roll your eyes, and continue working. 15 minutes later, a green portal flashes open next to you. everyone jumps in surprise, looking at the portal as rick walks through. “why didn’t you text me back?” rick grabs your arm, looking pissed. you look around, embarrassed.

you lower your voice to a hush, “you texted me gibberish? what exactly was i supposed to text back?” his grip on your bicep tightens and you wince.

“i-it was an accident, but y-you didn’t text back and i was worried.” rick starts to pull you into the portal, but you stand your ground.

“rick, i’m working. you have to go.” rick’s face darkens at your words, but he lets go when your coworker comes up to you.

“is everything alright?” she looks concerned and alarmed at rick’s appearance, and he rolls his eyes.

“(y/n) here, didn’t answer my text so i got worried.” rick pulls you into a tight hug and whispers into your ear, “next time, text me back.”

builds you a bunch of stuff to keep you safe like a chip that insta-kills anyone that it detects to be bothering you

that first week of meeting you, he had broken into your house at night and planted a tracker in your skin when you were sleeping, so he knows where you are at all times

during the whole killing rick-prime arc, he was so scared that you would get hurt or prime would come after you

he didn’t want to lose you like how he lost diane and beth :(

“baby, come on, it’s for your safety.” rick pleads as you slam your hands against the force field.

“SO YOU TRAP ME IN A CAGE????” you scream as rick presses a hand against the wall.

“it-it’s just for your protection, baby, i can’t lose you too.”

“FUCK YOU, RICK. I SWEAR WHEN YOU LET ME OUT OF HERE, WE’RE DONE.” you wouldn’t stop screaming at him. morty watches, uncomfortably.

“are-are you sure this is okay, rick?” rick’s face is unreadable as he registers your words.

“it-it’s fine, morty. i just won’t ever let them out.”

rick also seems like the type to have a breeding kink, but like with the no kids yk (this mf does NOT want more kids) (especially after the whole ghia incident)

like he doesn’t use condoms and he doesn’t pull out, because he likes marking you as his from the inside.

he would definitely have a marking kink like hickeys, love bites, collars, anything that shows the world that you’re taken by him

rick’s hands caress you as you struggle in your bonds.

“i’m sorry, baby, so so-sorry.” he buries his head in your shoulder, sucking at your nape. his hands start to pull at your pants and you struggle harder. he pulls away from your neck to leave wet kisses down your chest, “i know, i know, i’m sorry, sweetie. you just looks so cute, so sw-sweet. it’s really not my fault.”

[tojisbbg]

❈ 𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸 𝗺𝘆 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻 ❈

❝one day i will stop falling in love with you, some day, someone will like me like i like you.❞

♡ manjiro sano ♡

pt.1, pt. 2

a/n: highly requested for pt. 2!! you ask and i shall deliver 😌

content: mikey x reader (y/n), very heavy angst, right person wrong time, you’re mikey’s childhood friend, he’s getting married (lolz), not grammatically checked/edited

...

it was currently seven in the evening, the newlyweds bid the last couple of guests goodbye. throughout the whole event, mikey tried his very best to plaster on the most convincing smile he possibly could to mask the chaos going on inside him. 

there was never a second where you’ve left his mind, ghosting through every lane in his brain as he couldn’t focus on anything but you. he felt guilty, knowing that perhaps his marriage wasn’t going to last as long as he had hoped for. 

“better invite us to the housewarming party, sano. your wife’s cookies are no joke.” pah nudged mikey, a small laugh leaving his chapped lips as he faintly nodded his head. mikey watched pah walking towards the door before suddenly stopping, watching as his friend bent down to fix the bottom of his wife’s dress. the hopeless boy couldn’t help but watch, observing the affection and love reciprocating between pah and his wife, before they both left together. 

in the back of his mind, the memory of you zipping up his jacket properly during the cold winter season, lending him your scarf and making sure that he was all warm and snuggled up was fresh in his mind. you always made sure that he never got sick and when he did, you would ditch everything in your agenda to make it your business to nurse him back to health. 

no one has ever cared for him like you have and mikey knew what he had to do. 

“honey?” the voice of his wife awakened him from his train of thoughts, turning his head to the side as he was met with a warm smile. god, he felt so guilty for what he has done and was about to do. 

“yeah?” he responded, waiting for her to ask.

“i was thinking that the two of us could have a small movie night when we get home.” she suggested, eyes twinkling with hope as mikey gulped harshly. 

home.

they bought a house together and planned to live there forever until time was up. but, he always wished that it was you instead. mikey couldn’t bare to look her in the eye, clearing his throat as he tried to think of an excuse. 

“it’s been a long day, you must be tired. i’ll drop you home and go over to ken-chin’s place since he suddenly left and isn’t answering my calls. get some rest, okay?” he lied straight through his lips, and his poor wife was too naive and quickly sympathized with it. 

“of course, i hope him and y/n are okay. let me know what happens, hm?” suddenly, she wrapped her arms around him, making him freeze. 

it felt so wrong, like he was being suffocated. mikey didn’t like this one bit at all, it felt too new and unpleasant. he’s been with ___ for a couple years by now and these things were never an issue. yet, after your sudden confession, the regret of not coming clean to his feelings years back ate him alive. 

“hm, let’s go.” mikey gave her a smile, placing a hand on her back as he led her out of the church. 

the drive to his house was not very long, giving him enough time to quickly slip out of the annoying suit as he slipped on a pair of jeans and a flannel. he saw his wife sitting on the couch, a small bag of chips in her hands as she munched on the salty snack while watching a rom-com movie. she noticed him and gave him a wave, making mikey want to rip his hair out as he just wanted to tell her the truth. 

but, he wasn’t ready yet. 

he walked over to her and place a faint kiss on her forehead before looking down at her. 

“i’ll be back soon.” mikey assured, making her nod as she watched his figure walk out of the front door. 

the ride to the brothel was about thirty minutes, making mikey curse on why he bought a place that had to be so far. the urgency to see you grew stronger and stronger with every light and block he passed. mikey quickly parked his car after arriving in front of the brothel before rushing out to go up to the floor where you and draken lived on. 

the elevator dinged and he stepped off, now standing in front of your door. his breathing became irregular, anxiety swallowing him up whole. all the possibilities of you hating him and banishing him away from your life scared him to death. a shaky fist came up to the wooden door, knocking twice. 

the door opened, revealing his tall best friend, staring down at him with a death stare that made chills run down his spine. 

“ke-”

“what do you want?” draken brashly cut him off, making mikey’s lips agape as this sudden behavior from his right-hand man was completely unexpected. surely he knows that you might’ve ranted to draken about whatever happened between you two, but usually draken doesn’t like to get involved in neither your or mikey’s personal life. 

“i just came to see y/n and talk with her, five minutes is all i’m asking for.” mikey chewed on his lower lip, eyes sternly on his shoes as he couldn’t bare to see his friend look at him with such hate-filled eyes. draken bitterly laughed, making mikey wince in pain as he knew that this was going to be bad.

“oh, so now you wanna see her, huh? you disappeared for nine fucking years, sano. nine damn years! you didn’t care about my little sister at all, whether she was alive or dead. did she tell you that she fell sick from not eating because she was looking for you? how she couldn’t sleep a single night in peace ‘cause she thought you were dead? of course not, you were too busy being blind and fucking some other bitch.” draken yelled through gritted teeth, making mikey look up at him with anger. 

“mind your fucking words, don’t call ___ a bitch.” the shorter spat out, tension growing between the both. 

“how rude of me, i forgot that you were a gentleman. well then, goodnight.” draken scoffed, attempting to close the door before a foot lodged into the remaining space. 

“please, all i’m asking for is five minutes.” mikey begged, tears welling in his eyes. 

“you had nine years to talk to her, but you didn’t. there is no five minutes, mikey.” the taller spoke, voice know cracking as mikey’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“w-what do you mean? where’s y/n? don’t just stay quiet, answer me!” he grabbed onto draken’s arms, only to have it harshly ripped away from his grasp. 

“she’s dead! y/n is dead, my sister is gone.” the tears that draken has been holding on since mikey has arrived came flooding down, as he glared at his best friend with bitterness. 

the words kept on repeating inside of mikey’s mind, taunting him as it felt like time has stopped. for some reason, it felt as if his body turned into stone, he couldn’t move. suddenly, a wave of rage began to build up, making him grit his teeth before balling his fists. anger clouded his sight as all he saw was red, eyes darkening.

“you piece of shit!” mikey bellowed, lunging towards draken before landing a hard punch on his jaw. remi screamed in horror, panicking as she saw both men breaking out into a violent fight. 

“you knew about her tumor! you fucking knew and you didn’t tell me?! what kind of a fucking friend are you, traitorous jackass!” mikey continued to throw endless amounts of punches on draken’s face, receiving some back as well, but no matter how hard draken hit, he felt numb. 

“stop!” remi yelled, before throwing her shoe at mikey’s head, making him wince at the stinging pain the heel left. draken was on the ground, breathing heavily as he shoved the smaller figure on top of him to the side. 

“do you think that beating each other to death will bring y/n back? do you think she’ll be happy? huh?!” the girl sobbed, landing a hard slap on each of their cheeks as both draken and mikey looked down at the floor in shame. 

“her death was inevitable, that tumor was a ticking bomb. she’s finally free from those painful chemo sessions, headaches, vomiting and seizure episodes. she won’t suffer anymore.” remi sadly smiled, body trembling as draken pulled her into his chest. 

“i deserved to know, she was my other half.” mikey lowly spoke, tears pooling in his eyes, blurring his vision. 

“you didn’t deserve shit, sano. all y/n has ever done is love you with all her heart. you were her world, everything revolved around you. yet, you failed to notice that. what did you do instead? you fucking disappeared without a word. oh and even better, you found some chick too. you never cared about my baby sister, you didn’t! so stop acting like the victim here.” draken sneered, meeting mikey’s teary eyes as he grew quiet.

“i was trying to protect her, i was afraid that my presence in her life would do more harm than good. i was scared that one day something bad would’ve happened to her because it involved something to do with me. i couldn’t risk it, that why i even disbanded toman.” mikey explained, breaking out into a painful cry as his heart bled. 

“did you even love her?” draken questioned, watching the man in front of him choke on tears. 

“god, i loved her to the moon and back! she was all that i could think of every second that i breathed. if i knew sooner, then i would’ve never left. i would’ve never been a coward, i’d stay by her side to protect her. i could’ve had more time!” mikey yelled in agony, making draken grab a hold of him. 

“it would’ve never been enough! y/n didn’t tell you because she knew that it would’ve destroyed you.” draken hugged him, patting his back as remi joined them both as well. 

after a few minutes, draken decided to take remi outside for a small walk, feeling like they needed some fresh air. this gave mikey some time to go see you. he hesitated for a bit, not being able to face you even though you were long gone. but, he eventually mustered up the courage and opened your door. 

there, you laid on the bed like a pretty flower, your skin pale as snow due to the life in you being drained out. 

“i know you told me that you didn’t wanna see me again, but i missed you. i don’t wanna let you go, y/n. i can’t live without my other half, i love you so much.” he cried, stroking your cold face as his tears fell on your cheek. 

if only he knew, he would’ve cherished you longer. 

---

mikey walked inside his house, eyes swollen from crying in the car, nearly getting into an accident twice from his blurred vision. 

he saw his wife with a teary face, her friend my her side rubbing her back. the both of them noticed his appearence, and instead of a look of relief, the both of them looked angry. 

mikey stood in his place, watching his wife rise from her spot and walking towards him before landing a harsh slap on his face. 

“you fucking cheater! you don’t love me, i was your escape route. you love y/n, don’t you?” she asked, voice becoming shaky as she looked at mikey through glossy eyes. 

mikey remained quiet, and there she got her answer. 

“i knew it, i knew it! yet i still had some trust and hope within you that my guts were wrong. that maybe those little gestures you both gave each other was nothing but platonic. i was wrong, you and that two-faced bitch lied to me!” she screamed in agony. 

“watch you mouth! you don’t get to call her that, you heard me? everything that she has ever done for anyone was nothing but a selfless act. you don’t know her.” mikey said through gritted teeth, making his wife scoff. 

“yeah? well, you can now go back to her and continue to kiss her mighty ass ‘cause i want a divorce.” she sternly said, crossing her arms over her chest before walking to the door with her friend. 

“i’ll get you the papers by next week.” mikey bluntly said, not even trying to fight or defend himself. he was tired and he didn’t want to live in an unhappy marriage for the rest of his life knowing that his heart belonged to you and only you. 

“why? i wish to cut my ties with you as soon as possible.” she said with disgust laced in her tone. 

“because i have to attend y/n’s funeral.” mikey deadpanned, making his wife’s mouth gape open. 

“huh, guess karma is real. that’s what you get, sano.” his wife’s best friend taunted, making his now ex-wife giggle. 

“i’ll come tomorrow to get my stuff. i can’t stand to stay here for another minute. also, i hope that two-faced bitch burns in hell.” she cockily said before heading out the door, slamming it shut. 

---

it’s been about a month since you’ve died and mikey hasn’t visited your grave yet. he was there for your funeral, seeing how draken never requested the morgue people to not take off the promise ring you both have on your pinky finger. but, he didn’t stay for the burial. 

mikey sat on the bench by the river, sighing as he fished out the pack of cigarettes he bought earlier. he opened the lid, plucking one of them out before placing it on his lips. as he brought his lighter closer to the end of the cigarette, your voice echoed in his mind. 

“see, much better than cigarettes. but i was being serious, mikey, i don’t wanna see those near your lips or reach ever again. swear on my life?”

he took it out, placing it back in the package. mikey stood up, walking towards the garbage can before throwing out the pack of cigarettes. 

mikey decided that it was time to see you.

he reached your grave as you were buried in the nearest cemetary, easy for your sibling to visit you on the weekends. mikey sat in front of your tombstone, placing the cup of chocolate pudding on the ground. 

“felt like you wanted some.” he smiled, opening up his own as he took a scoop of the sweet treat in his mouth. 

“how did i do it, y/n? how did i live all those years without you? now that you’re gone, i feel suffocated. it feels like i’m falling in this bottomless pit with no one to save me.” mikey’s voice broke, tears stinging his vision as he bit his lips to conceal a choked out cry that itched to leave his throat. 

“you just have to find happiness again, mikey.” a soft voice spoke from behind him, the familiarity of the tone set chills all over his body. he turned around, eyes widening in shock as he couldn’t believe it. 

“y/n?” he called out, but it was barely a whisper. mikey knew that you were dead, and that perhaps he was going insane, but he didn’t care. 

you smiled at him, taking a seat in front of him as you grabbed the chocolate pudding he brought for you. 

“are you real?” mikey finally mustered up the courage to ask, making you chuckle as you grabbed his hand. your flesh was cold, making him intertwine his fingers with yours in an attempt to give you some of his warmth. 

“it’s time to let me go, mikey. you have to live, travel, start a family and just be happy; without me.” your eyes held so much sadness and depth, it no longer twinkled with hope like before, making his heart ache. 

“i can’t. i need you by my side, y/n. please, come back.” he begged, shaky hands coming up to cup your face. tears began to stream down his face as he softly cried, making you sigh as you pulled him in a hug. 

“do you remember our first meeting?” you asked, gently stroking his hair as he nodded. 

“i told you, there’s too much love in this world to be consumed by regret or grief. i’m not saying that you shouldn’t grieve, but you have to pick yourself up and continue with the rest of your life eventually. that’s what i want, mikey.” you spoke, making him look at you with glossy eyes. 

“if only i knew sooner, i would’ve done things so much more differently.” mikey sniffled, making you shake your head in disagreement. 

“that’s why i didn’t tell you. my condition would’ve consumed you and i didn’t want that. i didn’t die in vain, i died knowing that i had a loving family and person who loved me for who i am. i’m happy, mikey and it’s time that you find that happiness too.” you assured, kissing his forehead as small drops of rain began to fall. 

“i envisioned a happy life with you, with one or maybe two little kids running around our house. ken-chin and remi visiting us on christmas, road trips and so much more. i’ll wanted to marry you, y/n! you’re the only girl that i have ever loved, the one my heart belongs to.” mikey broke down, trembling as the rain drenched him. you couldn’t help but let a few of your own tears fall, watching the man that you love crumble to pieces. 

“then marry me, sano.” you looked at him with adoring eyes, making him shoot you a confused look. you took off the promise ring on your pinkie before handing it to him. he took off his as he placed it in your palms, eyes never leaving yours. 

he slid on the ring on your ring finger as you did the same to him. mikey gave you a soft smile before caressing your cheek.

“god, i love you so much.” mikey mumbled under his breath, leaning in for a kiss. you accepted it, and for some reason, your lips felt warm and soft. 

“i love you too, which is why i need you to live for me. i’ll always be here with you mikey, somewhere safe and sound.” you placed a hand over his heart, making him cry harder as he nodded. 

“okay. i’ll try, for you.” he offered you a broken smile, kissing your hands as you hummed. 

“goodbye, mikey.” you said, and it made his heart drop. 

“wait! don’t leave just yet! ple-”

but it was too late because now it was just him who sat alone by your grave. mikey saw that the pudding he got for you was gone, making him believe that the vision or ghost of you was in fact real. 

you came back to him, even if it was for a moment. 

mikey knew that he had to give his life a chance, a chance that you never got. which is why he promised to live to the fullest for you. 

---

big flashing lights nearly blinded the famous race car driver as he cleared his throat, waiting for the interviewer to bombard him with questions. 

“mr. sano! what a pleasure to have you here, thank you for joining us today.” the woman politely said, making mikey give her a small smile. 

“the pleasure’s all mine, thank you for having me.” mikey smoothly replied, making the crowd swoon. for a man that was pushing his mid-thirties, mikey looked amazing, without a doubt. his voice was crisp and honey-like, making it hard for people to resist him. 

not to mention the generous heart he has. 

the interview was pretty long, consisting of questions that made mikey talk about his childhood, goals and inspirations. until the burning question hit him like a truck. 

“mr. sano, you’ve got quite a fanbase.” the interviewer started off, being cut off by the loud squeals of mikey’s fangirls, making him chuckle. 

“we all want to know, are you single?” the question pondered in his head, but mikey knew the answer and didn’t hesitate. 

“i’m not, actually.” he revealed, making people gasp and scream from shock. 

“who’s the lucky girl if i may ask?” the interviewer continued to ask for further information. mikey smiled, thinking about the only woman that will ever own his heart. 

“my best friend, y/n. she’s my wife who unfortunately passed away a few years ago due to an inoperable brain tumor. she’s the love of my life and i miss her every day. i funded the research foundation for inoperable brain tumors in memory of her. she’s the biggest inspiration in my life and i hope she’s happy when she watches over me.” mikey spoke into the mic, making the crowd briefly go silent before a loud wave of claps echoed through the room. 

“you’re a great man, mr. sano, i’m sure your wife is very proud of you. she sounds like an amazing woman.” the interviewer offered a consoling smile. 

“she was. y/n was brilliant, she was smart and talented in almost every aspect. she’s my other half, which is why it made it hard for me to learn how to live without her after she passed away. but, she always told me how there was too much love in this world and i shouldn’t be consumed by grief. so, i picked myself back up and started something to give other people hope for a better tomorrow.” mikey explained, seeing how the audience was in tears from his heart-touching words. 

for a breif moment, mikey saw you amongst the crowd. his eyes widened, seeing you in a beautiful cherry sundress, similar to the one you wear every summer in high school. you were clapping and you blew him a kiss, to which he caught as his eyes teared. 

mikey knew that he would never stop falling in love with you and that he would let you break his heart over and over again. 

because his heart belong to you and only you.