#if i was in their shoes i was getting a shotgun or something man

[tanky-baby]

nah but fr tho, where are the fics of Angel and Baaabe with a gun??

I’ve seen a lot of fanfics that portray Angel and Baabe as completely helpless and/or burdens to their mates and the pack. I want to know what the general consensus is.

[koqabear]

chulo

♫: Chulo Pt. 2, Bad Gyal

"Your hermit of a roommate finally decides that he’s had enough of your attitude. And of your constant assumptions that he’s never felt the touch of a woman. "

taehyun x fem!reader

Genre: pwp, roommates au, smut, enemies to lovers if you squint, ft. wingman jjun 

Word count 11.4K

warnings: barely edited and barely any plot mwah, use of drugs (weed) and alcohol; mentions of the mc getting drunk (not during any of the smut), jealousy

smut warnings: sub!mc, mean dom!tyun, strength kink !! bratty mc and brat tamer tyun, high sex, shotgunning, degradation, praise, pain kink, spanking, hair pulling, thigh riding, begging, pet names/name calling (slut, baby, princess, pretty/good girl, etc.) manhandling, brief choking, mentions of safeword (it’s not used though), brief marking, biting, oral, (f. rec), face sitting, tyun is a literal pussy fiend. fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, tyun is thick and big yawnnn what else is new, dumbification maybe, slight humiliation (kink? maybe.),breast play, scratching, possessiveness, creampie (���•̀ᴗ-)✧

(lmk if i should add anything lmao)

Notes: just leaving this here to remind u guys that i am the least sane solomon on this app. i actually only wrote this for myself but congrats u all get to read it too. say thank youuu! 

Taehyun was, for lack of a better word, a total goody-two-shoes; always holed up in his room studying, the only times he ever left home being for work, school, or to go run an errand. He was also your beloved roommate. 

It was meant to be, really; jumping blindly at the offer your mutual friend Yeonjun offhandedly mentioned, commenting about how his friend was struggling to find someone in order to split rent— “his old roommate moved out, now he’s going broke trying to afford the place on his own.” 

And you, in all your bright-eyed and enthusiastic glory, didn’t hesitate to ask for details; one long interrogation later, and you found yourself getting interviewed by the man himself— how you were able to snatch the title of Taehyun’s new roommate is something you’re still unsure of. 

Because as far as you’re aware, the two of you couldn’t be any more different.

“You’re going out again?” you hear Taehyun call out from the kitchen, the said man able to hear you approaching from the hallway from the jingling of your jewelry— something he was always on your ass for, never failing to comment how you’re like a walking tambourine with that stupid quirk to his lips— the sound of his voice teeming with judgment only brought about a roll of your eyes, trudging over to the kitchen to send him a harsh glare; you made a point of placing your bangle clad wrists on your hips, the action bringing about another soft jingling. 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, raising a brow expectantly; Taehyun seems unfazed by your sudden confrontation, not a single muscle twitching at your accusatory tone— his back remains turned to you, leaning on the kitchen counter leisurely while he scrolls on his phone— at the sound of your persistent hmm? He peeks over his shoulder to meet eyes with you. 

“You were out till three yesterday,” he says nonchalantly, only turning so he can properly look at you whilst keeping an eye on the stove, “Is partying all you do?”

You can tell he’s trying to provoke you— but you know better than to fall for it and get angry, already victim to his constant mocking and teasing to realize that he seems to enjoy getting a rise out of you— so you simply roll your eyes and scoff, crossing your arms over your chest before you’re turning on your heel and beelining back to the door. 

“You know damn well…” you mutter to yourself, sneering at the chuckles you’re able to pick up on, “It’s none of your business anyway!” 

“Yeah, it kinda is!” Taehyun retorts, but you’re too busy slipping on your shoes and your jacket to voice out a rebuttal— swinging your purse over your shoulder, you’re able to catch his final comment right as you’re slipping out the door; “I’m not making the hangover soup again!” 

“Fuck you and your soup!” 

You shut the door behind you before Taehyun can get a word out. 

   ☆☆☆

“How are you two still living together?” 

The natural light that streams in through the windows and the sound of Yeonjun’s raspy voice is enough to have you wincing with pain and ducking your head down; hot steam from your bowl soothes your skin and puffy eyes, your body still sore from the night before as you sink into the chair with a tired sigh. 

“Because as insufferable as she is, she still pays her share of the rent,” Taehyun mutters bitterly, setting down a second bowl of soup before your mutual friend, pulling out the chair across from your as he goes to sit with crossed arms, “aren’t you gonna eat? You were begging me for this earlier.” Your lips automatically go to form a scowl, but your hand still goes to reach for your spoon— because as much as you hated feeding into Taehyun’s big fat ego, you couldn’t deny that he makes some killer hangover soup; you could already feel the tension easing from your muscles from the first bite—- your eyes remained glued to the table, knowing better than to glance back up and catch the stupid triumphant look Taehyun never bothers to hide. 

“Fucking insufferable,” you mumble between bites, glancing at the way Yeonjun seems to catch onto your words, shoulder shaking with the soft laugh he huffs out. 

“Me?” Taehyun gawks, leaning forward as though to make sure he was hearing things right; neither of you respond, which only serves to make him more irked.

“As far as I’m aware, I’m the one that has to deal with you— always coming back late and drunk as hell—” Taehyun’s pointed glare jumps over to Yeonjun, who simply flinches and averts his gaze down to the table, “you said you’d be watching over her last night.”

“I’m not a baby,” you butt in, ignoring Taehyun’s look of disbelief, “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“And yet you’re always asking me to take care of you.” 

You shrug dismissively, the last bit of your energy spent as you find yourself no longer interested in arguing; staring down at your bowl, you found that you were so busy trying to ignore Taehyun’s piercing glare that you ended up scarfing down your soup in a haste— standing abruptly, you go to place your dishes in the dishwasher before you’re spinning around and sending Taehyun a bright, innocent smile. 

“It’s not my fault you always jump to come help me out,” you coo, wincing at the soreness of your body and the sharp ache in your head as you make your way over to him, cupping his face and squeezing his cheeks together, leaning in close to him even as he begins to fuss and swat at your hands angrily, “and you’re just soooo caring and sweet with me— it’s in your nature, don’t lie.” 

“It gets tiring listening to you complain around the house,” Taehyun sneers grabbing your wrists firmly and pulling your hands off his face swiftly— the sudden strength catches you off guard, hands falling dumbly at your sides as you can only stare at Taehyun as he continues, cold and aloof as always, “It’s the only way I can get you to shut up.”

“Sureee… sure,” you mumble offhandedly, clearly unimpressed by his excuse as you saunter off to the living room instead, making yourself comfortable on the couch before you’re yelling back to the kitchen one last time. 

“Jjunie,” you call, waiting for the muffled hmm? of the said man before you continue, “are we still down for the part next Saturday? Jake’s place?”

“Oh… uhhhm,” he pauses, and you’re sure Taehyun is probably sending him a deadly glare right now, “sure, if you want to.” 

“Of course I want to,” you grin, pulling out your phone to look up Jake’s instagram page, scrolling through his feed to get a refresher of what he looks like, the satisfaction of what you see seeping into your voice as you speak, “Partying’s all I do.”

You swear you hear a scoff; it only serves to make you anticipate the weekend a little more. 

   ☆☆☆

“You’re leaving like that?” 

Your body is jolting in surprise, the mascara wand in your hand clattering on your desk as you curse in shock— Taehyun stands in your now opened doorway, unable to sense his presence due to the focus you were putting in to make sure your makeup came out perfect— meeting his gaze through the mirror, you frown, nose scrunching in distaste at the way he clearly judges you; your hand reaches for your phone, turning down the music you were playing in order to actually hear him properly. 

“Don’t you know how to knock?” 

“I tried. I’ve been trying. For the past three minutes,” Taehyun says, ignoring your complaints as he makes his way into your room, coming up behind you as he scans your setup— he ignores the way you continue to glare at him harshly, eyes running slowly over the mess you’ve made before he’s leaning down and reaching across the vanity; you’re pressed back against the chair and left to watch as his arm obscures your vision, hoping he didn’t pick up on the way your eyes glued onto his muscles that bulged slightly as he reached for the charger plugged into the far outlet. 

“You never gave this back,” Taehyun sighs, and before you can refute that you were just about to, he gives you a pointed look with that raised brow of his. “It’s been three days.”

“My bad,” is all you can bring yourself to say, picking up your mascara wand again as you go back to applying your makeup carefully— but it’s hard to concentrate, especially with the way Taehyun continues to linger behind you, able to feel his warmth due to how close he is— and you glance over your shoulder, scanning him up and down before you’re turning back to your vanity, “is there something else I can help you with?” 

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“What, the whole why are you dressed like that thing? Are you seriously expecting an answer to that?” you ask, putting your mascara away as you move to your lips instead, “It’s nothing new, I don’t know why you’re so fixated on that right now.”

“Nothing new?” Taehyun repeats, and through the reflection of the mirror, you’re able to catch the way he frowns in disbelief and scans you once more. “You never dress like this for house parties.” 

“Hmm,” you hum softly, doing your final touch ups before you’re standing abruptly, spinning around to face Taehyun with a pout, “it’s the skirt right? It’s throwing the whole thing off.” 

Taehyun watches as you push past him and head straight to your closet; glancing over your shoulder and nodding at him to sit on your bed, turning back around before you can catch the way he hesitantly follows your command— and you’re turning back around with three more garments in your hand, each option smaller than the one before— the sight has his brows jumping briefly. 

“I was thinking this one at first— I think the darker denim is cuter though, like this one,” you press each skirt to your waist, peeking at yourself in your body length mirror before you switch to the next option; again, you’re pouting and shaking your head, throwing the first two options aside before you’re turning around to show Taehyun the last option proudly. 

“But actually, I think this one is the one— look at the pockets, they’re sooo cute,” you smile, flipping the garment over to show him— and indeed, they’re blinged out and sparkly, just like the rest of you; you hold it against your waist, checking yourself out in the mirror with satisfaction. 

“That— that barely covers you.”

“So?” you effortlessly reply, tilting your head and meeting Taehyun’s gaze through the mirror; dramatically, you gasp, mouth falling open and brows rising as you proceed to blatantly mock him, “Oh, is this too scandalous for you? Sorry, I forget you’re a bit more… reserved. It’s okay, you don’t have to stay in here if it makes you uncomfortable.”

You’re biting your tongue as you listen to Taehyun sputter behind you in confusion; through the corner of your eye, you’re able to watch as his brows knit together, leaning forward and tilting his head as he struggles to find a response. 

“Where the hell did you get that from?”

“Oh,” you trail off, tsking awkwardly and amping up your dramatics as you pause— Looking over your shoulder, you meet Taehyun’s prying gaze, returning it with a faux apologetic smile. “Y’knoww… Yeonjun told me. About you.”

If anything, that only serves to confuse Taehyun even more— and worry him, if the way he stares off into space, visibly deep in thought, serves as any indicator. 

“What did he tell you,” Taehyun mutters, the question more directed to himself as he racks his mind for possible answers— but you beat him to it, continuing your efforts to keep a poker face as you shrug innocently. 

“Just… about you. Relationships, experience…” and you’re turning your back to him, muttering the last part and taking in the way Taehyun leans forward even more to catch what slips out your mouth, “or, lack thereof.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“We were talking about our own stuff and you kinda just came up in the conversation randomly!” you say defensively, “It’s nothing to be ashamed of! It’s okay to shy away from… this lifestyle, or whatever you like to call it— there’s nothing wrong with being your little introverted self, tyunnie.” 

You’re provoking him— you’re setting up quite the bait, and it’s working, because Taehyun can only find himself able to gawk at you in disbelief, mouth parted slightly in wonder of it all— your cute nickname flies over his head in favor of processing the fact that you basically just called him a homebody. A virgin. 

Just when Taehyun thinks he’s found the words to respond to such an outlandish accusation, your phone dings with a notification— you’re all but bouncing over to it excitedly, hovering over the device and letting out a soft ah! In excitement— sending Taehyun a pleading smile, he’s already able to guess what you’ll ask of him. 

“Junie’s here! Can you please please please go answer the door for me? I need to change.” you watch Taehyun hesitate for a moment; he then nods reluctantly, getting up slowly before he trudges out of your room, your words still bouncing around the walls of his mind as you shut the door and yell out a cute thank you! As you do. 

Taehyun opens the front door to find an equally flashy Yeonjun on the other side— the sight of his over the top outfit is enough to catch Taehyun off guard and have all his thoughts tumbling out of his mouth without restraint. 

“Did you tell her I was a virgin?”

Yeonjun’s brows jump up in disbelief— he’s halting mid step through the doorway, sending Taehyun a confused look before he steps inside and closes the door behind him— looking at his friend for further explanation, Yeonjun is only met with Taehyun crossing his arms with an expectant look. 

“Dude. What the hell are you on about.”

“Why is ___ acting like I’m a total prude— saying you told her I was inexperienced,” Taehyun isn’t exactly sure why tonight’s comment was what set him off— you’ve been like this for as long as he could remember, always portraying Taehyun as someone pure, innocent, and stuck-up— he always thought you were joking, but as it turns out, that might not be the case. 

“Oh— she’s probably not being serious, don’t worry,” Yeonjun shrugs, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, craning his neck to try and get a glance down the hallway, seeing if you’re finally ready— you’re nowhere to be seen, and Yeonjun sighs impatiently.

“Okay, but what did you say to her?” Taehyun presses on, eyes narrowing at the sight of Yeonjun pressing his lips together hesitantly, “Yeonjun.”

“I just said that it’s… rare to ever see you get interested in anyone,” Yeonjun pouts, but Taehyun can tell that’s not the full truth— Yeonjun caves in after a moment, gulping softly and lowering his voice to nothing but a murmur, “and that she should stop flirting with you, cause you wouldn’t even know how to handle all that.”

“You what?!”

“Yeonjunnie, what do you think?” your voice is sweet and lilted as you finally come out of your room, interrupting Taehyun’s heated outburst with your jingling jewelry— the two men are turning over to you, Taehyun too busy taking in your appearance to notice Yeonjun sighing in relief at your well-timed interruption. 

“So?” you ask, doing a cute spin that has Taehyun’s eyes widening and his hands clenching— yeah, that skirt was practically a belt, your pretty skin lotioned up and shining under the lights, the spin only allowing him to get a perfect whiff of your addicting scent, “Y’think I can get Jake’s attention with this?”

The name has Taehyun frowning before he can even process it— behind him, Yeonjun whistles at your dolled-up self, doing a once over as he proceeds to hype you up. 

“Are you kidding? I’m gonna have to fend you off from everyone in that place,” he says, reaching out for your hand and grinning at the way you giggle and take it, your fingers interlacing naturally, “he’s gonna be all over you.” 

“Jake? You can’t actually be attracted to that douchebag,” Taehyun frowns, watching the way your expression immediately drops at his comment.

“I am, actually. It’s nothing serious, just a hook up at most,” you roll your eyes, voice turning undeniably bitter as you bend down to slip on your shoes, the sight of your panties peeking out from the skirt, tucked neatly between your thighs not lost on Taehyun, “Plus, I heard he really knows how to treat a woman.”

Taehyun’s gaze snaps up to meet Yeonjun’s; his glare is lethal enough to kill, and the recipient can only shrug sheepishly in return. 

“Sleep well Taehyun,” you remark, clearly poking fun at the fact that Taehyun usually sleeps much earlier than you, never failing to call him a grandpa for it, (which is ridiculous, considering that you barely sleep.) “You don’t have to worry about me— probably won’t be home tonight.”

You’re closing the door and dragging Yeonjun with you before Taehyun can respond, probably off to pregame outside while you wait for your uber; he’s left staring at the spot you just stood at, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed in anger— a minute goes by, and something decidedly shifts within Taehyun. 

He’s gotta do something about this image you have of him. He should probably fix that attitude of yours too, while he’s at it. 

   ☆☆☆

“Where the hell is he?” it’s something you seem to have asked for the umpteenth time tonight, leaning against the wall and pouting at your friend while you stand in line for the bathroom— you’ve been at the party for a solid hour now, and you still have yet to see Jake around. And to think, he was the one who invited you to his place in the first place. How rude. 

“I told you not to give him a chance!” Yeonjun yells, leaning in closer so you can actually hear him through the booming music and the crowds of people singing along to whatever’s blasting from the living room, “this party fucking sucks, too.”

You can only exaggerate your pout further with a petulant humph. Your body slouches and you can already feel your heart getting heavy with disappointment, unable to refute the way your best friend proceeds to mutter something about Jake probably being too busy sucking off another girl’s face in a random room of the house. 

“You never gave in to his advances— you said he was a man-whore,” Yeonjun continues to recall, wincing at the sight of two random girls rushing past him and to the front of the line, carrying their clearly shit-faced friend and screaming about how she’s going to throw up all over— the two of you cringe, exchanging a glance and mutually agreeing that you two can hold it a little more; you slowly trudge your way back to where everyone else is. “What changed? Why’d you give in?” 

You scoff, lips upturned with distaste as you send your friend a glare— the wound still as fresh as ever, voice dripping with venom as you lean close to Yeonjun’s ear so he can actually hear you. 

“Junnie, you know why!” you whine, smacking his shoulder and ignoring the way he childishly yelps, “I’ve officially decided to move on— I can’t stand flirting with a brick wall anymore, I need to… need to…” 

You’re trailing off, gaze wandering off to a foreign point, Yeonjun’s brows furrowing before he begins to follow your line of sight— and just like you, Yeonjun remains speechless, the unexpected sight leaving your jaws gaping. 

“This can’t be real.” 

But it is. The way Taehyun is currently leaning casually against the wall, drink in hand and coy smile on his face as he talks to some random girl, is very real. You can recognize that man anywhere— even in this crowded room of dancing and jumping bodies, your eyes still remain glued to him. 

But, the more you look at him, the more you realize something— he looks… different. It’s subtle, but it’s still there; the mischievous glint in his eyes, his relaxed posture and the hair that falls into his eyes, he has a confident, sly air to him you’ve never seen before— the girl leans up on her tippy-toes to whisper something in his ear, a hand on his shoulder to get stabilized, and the two laugh; your mind is too preoccupied with the way her hand lingers, the way Taehyun tilts his head in amusement, to realize the frown that has pulled your face together. 

Taehyun brings the can of beer in his hand to his lips— he turns his head, and his eyes find yours effortlessly. 

“He actually came,” Yeonjun awes beside you, and that’s enough to have your head whipping toward him, trying to ignore the way your face burns at the sudden eye contact, still able to feel his eyes linger on you for a moment after. 

“What are you talking about? Did you give him the address?” you say, your voice whiny as you speak, surprised to find that you’re not exactly sure how to feel at his sudden appearance— torn between the sudden interest he piqued within you and the disappointment that festeres in your stomach, knowing that now that Taehyun is here, you won’t think twice to give anyone else any attention. 

“Hmm? No, he was invited,” Yeonjun says, glancing back to where Taehyun is, looking back to find your confused expression, “him and Jake go way back.”

You’re kidding. 

“Nope. Those two were fucking menaces,” Yeonjun laughs— it seems as though the words must’ve slipped out of your mouth, the shock painted on your face more amusing to your friend than anything, “they used to host the craziest parties— now that I think about it though, that was probably all Taehyun’s work.”

“Wait… don’t tell me that…” you glance over to where Taehyun remains, then glance back at Yeonjun, reading his expression carefully and gasping, “was Jake Taehyun’s old roommate?”

Yeonjun nods, as though the news wasn’t earth-shattering to you. 

“After a while, I guess Taehyun just didn’t feel like keeping up with the fast life… I don’t blame him though.” Yeonjun shrugs, his eyes beginning to drift behind you, drawing you to turn around at the sound of the crowd on the dance floor cheering and yelling obnoxiously— and sure enough, Jake can be seen in the middle of a circle, flashlights of phone cameras recording lighting him up clear as day— you wince at the sight of a random girl dancing up on him, the sight leaving you to shudder and wonder why you were even gonna give him the time of day.

Ah, right.

“I can’t believe I was about to rebound on him with an old friend,” you breathe out, bristling at the sound of Yeonjun’s laughter, whipping your head around to send him a harsh glare, “and you were going to let me!” 

Yeonjun raises his hands up defensively. 

“Hey, I was just being a good friend,” he says, but with the way he smiles mischievously, you don’t buy it a bit. “I support women’s wrongs, or whatever.” 

“You prick,” you mutter miserably, gaze inevitably wandering back to where Taehyun remains; frowning at them now being visibly closer, Taehyun’s hand resting leisurely on the girl’s waist as they talk. 

And again, his eyes flicker back to meet yours.

“You know, he’s only here for you,” Yeonjun murmurs in your ear, watching your interactions like a spectacle, “he doesn’t care about that girl— probably just trying to get you jealous.”

“Stop lying,” you say, but your voice is weak and your brain is susceptible to his words; you tell him to shut up, but the way you perk up with interest is saying otherwise. 

“If I’m lying, then why is he giving you fuck me eyes?” 

As if on queue, Taehyun glances back again— his gaze is dark and inviting, scanning you slowly before he turns back to the unknown girl— and his eyes soften; they’re less intense, aloof, clearly uninterested. The final piece of your resolve crumbles to pieces.

“I think I’m about to do something stupid,” you say sheepishly, eyes still glued on the man across the room; beside you, Yeonjun chuckles.

“Do it,” he says, giving your back an encouraging push, sending you stumbling forward, “I support it.”

You don’t bother looking back at your friend for one last word of reassurance— your feet have begun to take you before you could even stop and think. 

You’re pushing through bodies; it’s crowded and hot and sweaty, cringing and jumping at the feeling of hands brushing against your bare skin— whether it be intentional or not, you try not to dwell on it, honed in on your goal instead.

It takes a moment for you to finally find yourself on the other side of the crowd— but you’ve lost Taehyun, eyes darting back to where he was just a second ago, frowning and scanning the area for the familiar man— he’s nowhere to be found. 

You’ve begun to wander around— exploring the layout carefully, eventually abandoning the living room and making your way into the kitchen instead— and like before, you’re unable to find Taehyun, growing increasingly frustrated the longer it takes to find him; it isn’t until you’re making your way to the back porch that you finally spot a familiar, broad frame leaning against the railing. 

“Taehyun,” you call out, the said man not flinching at the sound of his name; his back remains turned to you, but he listens to the sound of your nearing footsteps and your jingling jewelry, the scent of your perfume following soon after; you’re standing behind him, hands undoubtedly on your hips and a pout on your face as you speak. “What are you doing here?” 

He huffs out a soft chuckle— his relaxed, slouched posture only serves to annoy you, going to stand next to him so you can get a good look at his face— you try to hide the shock that’s blooming on your face, but then again, you’ve never been good at hiding your emotions. 

Taehyun cracks a small, lopsided smile; your eyes are wide and you seem like a deer caught in headlights, watching with fascination as Taehyun continues his attempts to light up the joint caught in his lips— your mouth is falling open to say something, but you’re closing it immediately after; this proceeds to repeat for a few seconds more, only able to find your words once you’ve watched Taehyun take a relaxed, languid hit. 

“You… you smoke?” you ask softly, unsure of what else to say as you stand staring at Taehyun dumbly— he raises a brow in amusement, pulling the joint away from his lips and turning to blow the smoke out into the night— it’s a slow, deep sigh, and you’re left in awe as you watch the smoke fall from his parted lips and disappear into the air; his eyes fall back on you, and you gulp. 

“Yeah?” he says casually, turning so that he’s leaning his side against the railing, tilting his head and drinking up your every reaction eagerly. “What about it?” 

Now that you’re before him, you’re finally able to get a proper look at Taehyun— a good look, unable to stop your eyes from wandering; he’s wearing that usual baggy tee and cargo pants combo that he’s so fond of, but even so, everything just feels so different; his undercut is styled cleanly, his nimble fingers glint with the aid of silver rings, a chain hanging from his neck to match— his tan skin glows under the single light placed on the porch and fuck, has he always smelled this good?

“Nothing, it’s just—” you stop yourself, biting your lip and thinking carefully over what to say; Taehyun quirks up a brow curiously, bringing his hand back up to his lips, taking another slow drag from the joint, watching the end light up before he pulls away— and you huff, hands gesturing hopelessly as you find yourself unable to properly articulate your thoughts, not when he’s staring at you so intensely, “Where did all… this, come from?”

Taehyun doesn’t answer; he simply stares at you with amused eyes. So, you continue.

“You’re always judging me for going to parties, now you’re here? And—” you stammer, pointing at the joint between his fingers in confusion, “I’ve always asked if you wanted to smoke together, and you always said no.” 

Gently, your voice trails off— and suddenly, any confidence you had when you initially approached Taehyun is wilting, your gaze averting as you begin to recount his behavior, his words, everything.

“Do you hate me or something?” 

Your words are accusatory and petulant; the question is meant to be lighthearted, but Taehyun can tell there is some genuineness to it. 

It’s silent; you’re tense. Your gaze remains glued to some distant irrelevant point, finding yourself too nervous to look up at Taehyun’s reaction to your sudden outburst— but nothing happens. Seconds feel like hours, and after what feels like eternity, a hand is gently reaching to tilt your chin up; your gaze meets Taehyun’s, and he smiles— his other hand slowly comes up your face, the joint centimeters away from your lips. 

“Wanna hit?”

His evasion to your question is not lost on you. Bitterly, you chuckle, reaching up to take the joint from him— but he’s pulling it away from you before you can grab it, tutting softly and placing it back at your lips; you reach for it again, but this time, Taehyun grabs your wrist to stop you. He taps the joint against your lips and raises his brows expectantly— what he’s asking of you finally clicks in your mind; your lips part, and he holds the joint for you as you inhale. 

Taehyun watches you with dark, intent eyes— as though analyzing every move you make, from the way you lean your head forward to the way your eyes flicker up nervously to look up at him— your face is oddly innocent and shy, feeling a lot smaller under the man’s gaze as you finally pull away; you’re exhaling slowly, your mouth slightly bitter from the taste as your swallow nervously. 

“So? Are you just gonna ignore all my questions?” you ask softly, suddenly feeling a lot weaker as you lean on the railing, crossing your arms and watching Taehyun bring the joint back to his lips— the edges of his mouth quirk up at the sticky feeling of your lip gloss that lingers on it. 

“Well… first of all… I’ve been like this, you just met me during the time I decided to back off and change my ways,” Taehyun jokes, the joint still caught between his lips as he speaks, hanging precariously, “and second of all, I definitely don’t hate you.” 

“You don’t?” you ask hopefully, doe eyes lighting up and your hand subconsciously reaching out to ask for the joint; he chuckles and hands it to you, shaking his head and watching you take a long hit with a raised brow.

“No. You’re just annoying,” he mutters, watching the way you bristle with annoyance, “what? It’s true. You drive me crazy, always forcing me to take care of your reckless ass.”

“Seriously? I literally don’t do anything to you— you’re the one who always decides to get involved,” you sneer, your snarky attitude finally back as you glare at an unfazed Taehyun; your eyes run over his appearance once more, unable to control your childish mouth as you continue, “even now— you come here out of nowhere and suddenly you’re all badass.”

“Are you trying to prove me wrong? You gonna go find some girl to bring back to the apartment?” you pout at him, taking one last hit from the joint and smiling wickedly, “I wouldn’t mind if you did, there won’t be anyone else home anyway— I have the same plans as you tonight, remember?” 

Your back is suddenly pressed against the railing; Taehyun is close, he’s pressing against you, caging you in and looking down at you with a gaze that makes you feel small— your skin warms and your eyes widen, unsure of what else to do but stand there and take the way he smiles meanly at you.

“Yeah? Where is Jake, anyway?” he asks, taking the joint from your hands and placing it between his own lips, hand steadying himself against the railing as the other suddenly lands on your bare thigh, just below your ass; you jolt at the feeling, his eyes flickering down at your outfit, at the tiny pieces that barely leave any room to the imagination; his skin is warm but his rings are cool against you, fingertips barely digging into the flesh, “or wait— is it not your turn yet?” 

Your body flushes with an unexpected heat; his voice is downright degrading, his eyes filled with pity, telling you things that his mouth doesn’t have to— look at you, all dressed up for a man who hasn’t even looked your way tonight. 

He looks at you as though you were nothing short of pathetic; it makes your knees feel weak and your stomach flip with an unexpected need. 

“Jake isn’t worth my time,” you confess, watching as Taehyun raises his brows as though to say oh really? “I can easily find someone better than him.”

“You could,” he muses, voice mocking and coy, taking another small hit before he speaks, “but who?”

“I— I’m sure there are plenty of other guys here right now,” you breath out, heart thundering in your chest; Taehyun’s face is close, so close, your bodies slowly beginning to get firmly pressed together— your brain is starting to feel foggy, your limbs suddenly much heavier and tingly; your eyes feel heavy and you’re beginning to list off names absentmindedly, all of men who you spotted in the party, all with a reputation as equally notorious as Jake’s. 

“Heesung’s in there… and Sunghoon… and…” Taehyun is giving a big nod to every name you list; he’s patronizing you, staring at you with deceivingly big puppy eyes as he hums a soft mmhmm, and who else? His eyes never leaving yours as you both try to pretend that you don’t notice his lips inching closer to yours, the way every exhale of smoke from him goes directly into your parted lips, your voice breathy and weak as you hold back a whimper that threatens to slip through, “And… fuck, and Beomgyu’s in there too… he wanted to come to the party together, y’know. Said we should go to his place after.”

“Hmm, you’ve got quite a few options lined up,” Taehyun hums, his voice sweet and light to your ears, a shuddered sigh leaving you as his hand squeezes your skin teasingly, caressing it softly and wandering up and down, up and down; he tilts his head, low lidded eyes glued to your lips as he murmurs the last part so softly you almost missed it, “but would any of them be able to fuck you right?”

Your mind reels; your chest is heaving with shallow breaths, the two of you stuck in a state of limbo as you feel yourself get lost in the feeling of him, unaware of the way your eyes have begun to gloss over, your hand reaching out to steady yourself on his bicep— your fingers wrap around the thick muscle, and his hand slides up your leg, bold and strong as he squeezes your ass— a soft whine slips out. 

“Well?” he asks again, unable to hold back a lethargic, fond smile at the way your other hand reaches up for the joint that’s still between his lips, putting it between your own, pretty glossed lips begging to be devoured— after a second, you shake your head softly, turning your head to the side and sighing slowly; with your eyes averted, you finally decide to bite the bullet. 

“No,” you say softly, “don’t want any of them anyway.”

“Then who do you want?” he asks oh so softly, leaning in to place a soft kiss at your jaw; goosebumps erupt all over your skin, and you shudder at the way he hums softly in question, persisting after seeing you get hesitant to respond— after what feels like forever, you turn to look at him; his low lidded eyes, his plump lips— and your nails dig into his bicep subconsciously. 

“You.”

There’s no chance for you to take back your words; Taehyun’s lips are rough and desperate against yours, all teeth and tongue as he groans at the feeling of your sticky gloss transferring onto him, your soft whines only aiding him to press himself more against you, to really cage you in and keep you right where he wants you. He’s biting your lip teasingly, sneaking his tongue in and toying with you, feeling him smile lazily against your mouth, wandering hand continuing to caress your skin, fingertips venturing under the hem of your tight denim skirt. 

After a while, it becomes too much— your body feels hot, your hand is gripping onto him tightly, as though he could escape if you let him go— your lungs burn and you’re barely able to keep up with him anymore, but Taehyun doesn’t seem to mind; you’re whining and crying softly at the way he continues to squeeze your ass teasingly, jolting at the way he suddenly slaps it— your fingers jump up to tangle themselves into his roots, tugging roughly at them in hopes of getting him to part from you; he seems to understand what you want, but he continues to ravish you for a few seconds more before he finally pulls away. 

In Taehyun’s eyes, this is the best you’ve looked all night; out of breath and flushed, pressed between the railing and his body, his cock already half-hard as he wills himself to not rut against your soft exposed skin like an animal— his hand leaves the railing to grab onto your waist, the other reaching for the joint that is still in your weak hold— he inspects the half-smoked, almost extinguished item before he looks back at you; a small, mischievous grin spreads on his lips, and he slips a thigh between your legs. 

“Taehyun…!” you gasp, bouncing up as Taehyun presses the firm muscle against your poor dripping pussy; your panties stick to your cunt and quickly create a wet patch on Taehyun’s jeans, and he can already feel the warmth of you through the denim— your thighs close around his own shakily, your free hand grabbing onto his shoulder for support; the glassy, wide eyed look you give him  is almost enough to make Taehyun lose it and fuck you then and there. 

“Hmm? What’s up,” Taehyun asks apathetically, fishing in his pocket for his lighter, letting go of your waist to relight the joint with a dark, concentrated gaze; his thigh continues to move against you, flexing and bouncing against your cunt, and all you can do is cry softly and plead for him to stop teasing— his lips quirk up into a mean smile, and his eyes flicker back up to your hazy, fucked out face, tucking the lighter back in his pocket and tilting his head curiously at you. 

“What do you want, baby?” he asks softly, bringing the joint to his lips and taking a long, slow hit, his eyes never leaving yours as he does. 

“Please… please stop teasing,” you whine, and judging by the way Taehyun raises a brow at that, it’s not enough; his thigh has stopped moving, so you resort to grinding pitifully against it, eyes shining with a desperation that intrigues him, “not enough… need more.”

He huffs; his hand comes up to grab your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks and forcing you to open— you follow his command without a second thought, the last thing you see as your eyes flutter shut being Taehyun leaning in, his own mouth an inch away from yours as he exhales the smoke directly into your mouth. 

“Oh yeah? Want it?” he murmurs, feeling you nod in his hold, “tell me then. Tell me how you want it.”

“I— I…” words seem to have escaped you; it’s hard to find the confidence to tell him what you want, the world around you a blurry and lethargic mess, your senses heightened to only feel Taehyun, his skin on yours, his rings that dig into your cheek, his warm thigh that you grind against— peeking through your low lidded eyes, you watch him shake his head disappointedly, taking another hit and proceeding to blow out the smoke into your awaiting mouth once more. 

“C’mon baby, use your words. I know you can,” he insists patiently, clicking his tongue and scolding you as you proceed to blank out once more; his fingertips dig into your cheeks roughly, blunt nails threatening to leave indents as he forces you to look at him. 

“Want it rough? Want it hard?” he spits out, listening to your whiny mmhmm, mmhmm! with narrowed eyes, and he laughs— it’s mean and condescending, just like his next words, “fucking slut, ‘course you do.”

He’s capturing your lips in another harsh kiss before you can protest; the joint in his hand is snuffed out on the fence and tucked away, his hands falling onto your hips as he begins to press you firmly against him, guiding your pace entirely and forcing you to ride his thigh; you whine and you moan against his lips, fingers tugging at his hair as you grind your soaked cunt against his jeans— when Taehyun pulls away, your lips chase his without a second thought, hands tightening your hold against him in fear that he’ll leave.

“You want it?” he asks once more, bouncing his thigh against your messy cunt, grinning at the way you yelp, “Tell me baby, go on, say it; tell me you want it.” 

He won’t let you go quite easily this time. Sharp, intense eyes prying the words out of you, brows furrowing together at the weak, quiet attempts that come from you, fingers leaving a bruising grip on you as he silently commands for more.

“Taehyun, c’mon…” you pout, an embarrassed heat rising up your face, not used to seeing this side of him— you didn’t even know it existed, to be fair, “I want it, please, stop being a tease.”

Taehyun has you regretting your words in the blink of an eye; hand pressing the small of your back, forcing you to arch and proceeding to land a harsh smack on your ass that has you gasping, the skin stinging from the feeling of the rough metal of his rings landing on it— but his hand doesn’t fail to caress the place soothingly, a total contrast to the ruthless glare he gives you.

“A tease?” he sneers, landing another, gentler smack, as though the words are enough to get him angry all over again.

“You mean like when you were showing off this cute little skirt to me? Hmmm? Bending down and showing me your panties? Or when you were talking about getting fucked by my friends?” he can feel you tremble against his hold, your mouth opening to retaliate— but you’re not quick enough, Taehyun’s smart mouth running faster than yours, “Or how ‘bout when you force me to watch you run off to parties and bring a man over to your room, just to have me take care of you in the mornings? Is that what you mean by a tease?” 

You shake your head, scrambling to come up with a response; Taehyun seems to have gotten quite fed up with you, because his hand is coming up to wrap around your neck, adding a subtle pressure that leaves you light headed and mushy.

“What, can’t talk now? What happened to that mouthy girl I had here earlier?” Taehyun says, his voice mean and dripping with venom, “tell me you want it, or I’ll leave you here— you said you had some other toys to fuck with inside, right? I’m sure they could help give you what you want.”

“No, no, please, I want it, need it,” you cry, attempting to chase any pleasure and grind your cunt against him; you’re quickly stopped by his firm, bruising hand, “Taehyun, Taehyun, please, please fuck me, I want you, please?”

“I don’t know,” he mutters lowly, eyes glued to the way your hips buck and cant, trying desperately to break free from his hold that prevents you from moving, “think you deserve it?”

“Yes,” you immediately sigh, body restless and hot and overwhelmingly needy, feeling as though you’ve gotten tunnel vision for the man before you; your hand slips from his shoulder and down his chest, finding the hardened bulge that has been pressing against your body with ease— his jaw clenches, and his face remains stoic— but that doesn’t mean you don’t notice the way his lips part or his hips press against your palm reassuringly, “yes– give it to me, want it, only wanted you from the start.”

“Fuck,” he breathes out, heavy eyes locked onto the way you look up at him so prettily, your hand palming and rubbing at his clothed cock only serving to cloud his thoughts further, “C’mon.” 

He’s stealing one last slow, messy kiss from you before he pulls away; fingers intertwined with yours, stepping back and proceeding to tug you along— you stumble at the sudden action, your airy self giggling softly at the way you tumble into Taehyun’s broad back; he sends you a fond smile, squeezing your hand reassuringly before he’s opening the door to the house and leading you back inside. 

It feels as though the whole environment of the party has changed; the neon lights, blasting music and humid air is a little more welcomed than it was before, unable to contain the dopey smile that grows on your face as you allow Taehyun to lead you wherever; you trust him. 

“Wherever” leads you to a bedroom upstairs— Taehyun is slamming the door shut and grabbing your waist, spinning you around and pinning you against the wall before you can even react; his face is inches from yours as he mutters a safeword for the two of you, waiting for you to nod and repeat it back before his lips are back on yours— but this time, he seems to want to take his time with you; plump, swollen lips beginning to trail along your jaw, wandering until he’s peppering kisses along your neck, teasing mouth nipping and sucking at your jaw until you’re holding onto his shoulders and begging for more. 

Slowly, he begins to walk the two of you backwards; lips never leaving yours, hands caressing your skin and toying with the hem of your shirt as he sits down on the bed, making you stand between his legs— pulling away, you put your hands on Taehyun’s firm shoulders, sighing shakily at the way he looks at you; as though he were holding back from devouring you entirely, a fondness that makes you weak in the knees undeniably there in his pupils. 

“Fuck, pretty girl, pretty body,” he breathes, leaning forward to pepper kisses wherever he can— pushing your shirt up to expose your chest, burying his head in your tits and placing open mouthed kisses, biting teasingly at the flesh, chuckling at the feeling of you jolting and jutting your chest out, your body much more reactive and sensitive— and he trails down slowly, down the valley of your breasts, down your stomach, lingering there for a bit as he kisses and sucks marks into the vast canvas; his hands trail up and down your sides, pulling you in every time you try to squirm away. 

“What, you getting shy on me now?” he tuts, nipping at your side and listening to the squeal that escapes you— his hands tighten and he’s forcing you forward, leaning back until he’s laying down and you’re straddling him precariously; your knees dig into the mattress and you’re trying your best to remain stable, but Taehyun doesn’t seem to be satisfied yet— you frown in confusion at the feeling of him trying to tug your hips up more, resisting the motion with a tilt of your head; Taehyun pouts. 

“Don’t be like that,” he groans, hands shifting from your hips to the back of your thighs, one cupping your ass and the other falling just below— and you yelp, Taehyun’s muscles flexing as he moves you up forcefully, much too strong for you to retaliate; you’re tumbling down, face burning and planting into the mattress as Taehyun shifts below you— your dripping cunt hovering just above his face, skirt riding up and bunching at your hips, any whines of protests falling on deaf ears as he begins to press soft kisses on your inner thighs. 

“T–Taehyun, wait, you don’t—” you stutter through moans, fingers gripping onto the sheets below you as you feel him beginning to trail up, your body revealing just how much you don’t mean your words, “you don’t have to— mmh–!”

His hands are coming up to your middle, pulling and signaling for you to sit up; you do, partly from your own efforts but mostly from his, easily moving you as though you were nothing but a doll— and your cunt is hovering over his face, hungry eyes flickering up to meet yours— he sees the hesitation on your face, the way you’re beginning to ramble once more, and he scoffs; the smack that lands on the back of your thigh is enough to get you to stop mid sentence. 

“Just shut up and let me taste you,” he says sternly; his fingers dig into your hips and he’s tugging you down, sneering at the way you continue to hesitate, only allowing yourself to hover over him— he bites at your inner thigh in retaliation, the sensitive feeling bringing out a cry from you, hips bucking and thighs squeezing around his head for a second, “C’mon baby, sit on my face— I can take it, you know I can.”

The hesitant hum you let out is enough for him; he rolls his eyes, and with a strength you forgot he possessed, he forces you to plant your cunt directly onto him. 

It feels like a switch has flipped within him. Fuck, you think, your lips parted in a silent scream, a hand scrambling to tangle itself in his hair, fuck! 

He hasn’t even bothered to move your panties to the side; he’s eating you out through them, tongue pushing into your hole and lips kissing and sucking at your clit like a man starved, groaning and praising you with a muffled voice; his fingers dig into your ass, making sure to keep you planted firmly on his face as he eats you out.

You think you’re losing your fucking mind. 

Just when you thought it was too much, that your body felt like it was buzzing with electricity, filled with a euphoria and pleasure that had you mewling and crying desperately, Taehyun’s nimble fingers finally push the ruined cloth that covers your pussy to the side— and oh, oh, your eyes are rolling back and your mouth is stuck open, Taehyun’s hot tongue lapping and fucking into your hole and his nose pressing firmly into your clit— he’s panting and sighing against your cunt, slurping up any arousal that leaks from your poor hole— his head shakes from side to side, humming into your pussy, and the last bit of resolve within you shatters. 

“Taehyun— oh my god, Taehyun—!” you cry, hips grinding down into him, thighs closing around his head; you can feel him fucking smiling lazily into your pussy, rough hand slapping your ass and guiding your movements against him, as though to silently reassure you and ask for more. “Please— oh god, oh— fuckfuckfuck, m’close, I’m close, hnng—!” 

Your words are nothing but fuel to the man beneath you— his tongue is flattening against your hole, licking up and flicking at your clit before he begins to suck on it; two fingers prod at your clenching entrance, proceeding to push in without warning, curling expertly and finding your sweet spot with ease; your body shivers and you wail, muscles growing weak as you fall forward once more— burying your head in your arms as you cry about how close you are, the new position only allowing Taehyun to move your hips firmly against him, rocking you back into him; his fingers pull out of your cunt in favor of shoving his tongue back in instead, following every buck and twitch of your hips with ease— his nails dig into your skin as he holds you still, eliciting a dull feeling of pain, and everything falls apart. 

Too much, too much! you think— maybe you say it out loud, your mouth open and gasping as you grip onto the bed sheets, feeling as Taehyun continues his same, intense ministrations; letting you ride out your orgasm but not stopping, even after you’ve begun to sniffle and cry about how sensitive you feel— after a while, Taehyun finally gives in, pulling away from your cunt to lick you clean, pressing firm, sloppy kisses against your hole and puffy clit, smiling at the way you twitch with each one. 

You feel as though your bones have all melted; you can’t move, face burrowed into the mattress and chest heaving as you try to catch your breath— beneath you, Taehyun moves, slipping out from under you and hovering behind, hungry eyes taking in the sight before him eagerly; ass up and back arched, glistening hole on display as you continue to shudder and breathe shakily— you hear the sound of clothes rustling behind you, followed by the feeling of the bed dipping— Taehyun’s hand rubs at your ass fondly, and you jump at the sudden sensation, eyes screwing shut and a quiet whine leaving you.  

“You’re so fucking hot,” Taehyun sighs, biting at his lip and stroking your skin, up your back and to your shoulders, leaning over and kissing gently at the nape of your neck as he whispers, “think you can take more?” 

“Yes– yeah, please,” you beg quietly, unable to feel an ounce of shame from how immediate your response is; you can feel his cock rubbing against your ass, the stickiness of his tip that ruts against you subtly— you look over your shoulder with a hazy eyes and a soft, blissful smile, meeting Taehyun’s equally fucked out gaze as you push your hips back, “wanna feel you inside— I’m on the pill.” 

The sharp breath of air Taehyun sucks in isn’t lost on you— his cock jumps from the way you grind against him, no longer able to keep up that cold and uninterested facade he’s kept up since the moment you two met up for the first time— he wants you, bad. And to his delight, you seem to feel the same. 

“Jesus, you drive me so fucking crazy,” Taehyun breathes, the soft giggle you let out not helping him remain calm; he sits back, a hand grabbing at your waist and the other wrapping around his length— he’s squeezing the base, pumping at it slowly, the gruff sighs and moans you hear behind you enough to have you clenching around nothing— just when you think you’ll have to beg again, you feel his thick tip begin to prod at your entrance. 

You think you could cum from the feeling of him stretching you out alone— a broken moan leaves you at the feeling of him entering inside you, so thick and big that you think he might just break you; your head drops back into the mattress and your hips are pulled back against Taehyun’s, soft cries leaving you at the feeling of him bottomed out inside you. 

“P-perfect, so… damn perfect,” Taehyun rasps out, head falling back and eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of you clenching around him— you’re so tight and sensitive, walls fluttering around him and sucking him in, tempting him to lose control and pound you straight into the mattress; he has to take a deep breath and concentrate on not cumming then and there, because the way you’re beginning to whine for more like a cockhungry bitch is really getting to him, “shit– stop— ugh– stop squeezing me like that princess, won’t fucking last long if you do.”

You can only whine in protest at that; it’s so hard to remain still, your hazy mind already fucked out beyond belief from your first orgasm— but even so, you still want more, you crave it, you need it; you make sure that Taehyun is aware of it, too, whiny and breathy as you cry and cry for him to fuck you. 

“Tyun, come on,” you pout, impatiently moving your hips back, in search of any stimulation you can get, “please, wanna get fucked already, want it hard, don’t tell me that was all talk earlier.”

If there’s one thing you’ve figured out about Taehyun, it’s that he hates when you try to act up on him— because as he tightens his fingers into your plush skin and slowly begins to pull his hips out, you realize quickly that he’s most definitely not all talk. 

“Ah—!” 

Your body is being driven forward with each thrust— Taehyun is fucking you hard, muttering angry words that you can’t even pick up over the sound of your own moans; his cock is thick and his hips are angled so his head bumps against your sensitive spot with each thrust, harsh pace not allowing you any reprieve as you simply fall limp, unable to move your hips back in tandem with his pace; if anything, Taehyun is doing it for you, rough hands bringing you back against him like it’s nothing. 

“Fucking slut— got such a dirty mouth, should make sure you to fuck you good so you can’t talk back to me,” he growls, feeling you clench like a vice around him, even more when he stops thrusting in favor of pulling you back like a doll for him to use, “Oh, you’d like that huh? Like it when I use you like a toy? Stupid pussy’s nothing more than a fucking cumdump for me— yeah, c’mon, move your hips, thaat’s it, just like that.” 

His mouth continues to spew filth, a stark contrast to how Taehyun usually is— he’s always been quieter during sex, but the sight of you trembling and struggling to take his cock is enough for his mouth to run faster than his mind— that, and the aid of his high that seems to have gotten rid of any self-control he usually exhibits. 

Your movements have become sluggish and weak— you’re getting tired, he can tell, so with one last slap to your ass that has you yelping, he finally decides to take control again. 

“God, can’t even fuck me for more than a few minutes? Where’d that cocky girl from before go, hmm?” He asks, voice patronizing as he begins his harsh thrusts— only pulling out halfway before he’s sinking in all the way, hips slapping against your ass creating a lewd sound; your cunt only tightens and gushes around him, hiccupped moans leaving you as he picks up his pace, watching as your arms give out beneath you and your face gets planted into the mattress; he huffs out a laugh, and reaches out to grab a fistful of your hair— yanking your head back, you yelp, left to his mercy as he begins to pound into your ruthlessly. 

“Taehyun, wait– slow down…!” you cry, scratching at the bed sheets and feeling tears prick at your eyes— and he does, for a second, waiting for you to say something else, for the safeword you both agreed on— but you don’t, and the laugh he lets out after catching on is enough to have your face burning with humiliation— and his pace picks back up— no, he’s meaner than before, degrading you below his breath and pulling at your hair, pulling you back against him, a hand sneaking down to place sloppy circles at your clit— you’re keening and clenching like a vice around him, a sharp hiss leaving him at the feeling. 

“Mmmh, too… too much,” you manage to say softly, immediately given another harsh tug at your hair in response, your eyes watering at the feeling. 

“Too much?” Taehyun repeats, and you can practically hear the pout on his lips from the patronizing tone, “thought you wanted it hard? Don’t tell me it was all talk.”

He’s spitting your exact words back at you, watching with amusement as you try weakly to prove him wrong. 

“That’s right. You’ll take it like a good girl should,” he grunts, slowing his pace down and punctuating his words with rough, deep thrusts, “Fucking. Take it. All.” 

You’re close, he can feel it, he can hear it— and the thought of watching your pretty face screw up into pleasure and bliss is enough to send Taehyun’s mind reeling, not hesitating to pull out and let go of your body— his lips quirk up with satisfaction at the way you’re immediately falling limp, fucked out face peeking behind in confusion, about to complain about why he stopped when he begins to move you. 

It feels dizzying, the way he’s able to manipulate you and force you into any position he likes; you’re sure Taehyun can read it all over your face, because he smiles meanly at you, patting your cheek fondly before he begins to busy himself with your clothes. 

“Don’t think I never noticed you staring, pretty,” he grins, tugging your skirt and panties down swiftly, eying the soiled underwear before he throws it off to the side, landing directly on his discarded pile of clothes— and he sends you another sleazy smile that has you bringing your knees up and closing your legs shyly— it’s all futile though, because he’s immediately kneeling before you and spreading your thighs open with his warm, large hands, holding onto the underside of your knees as he scoots closer to you, “always getting so touchy with me, grabbing onto my arms and thighs— dumb little thing, bet you thought you were getting away with it each time, hmm?”

“Shut up,” you whine, resisting the urge to cover your face and hide away— but you really can’t, especially with the way his thick cock ruts against your pussy, tip sliding up and down your slit as he teases you by putting it in, only to pull back out again, “Taehyun…”

“C’mon, grab onto me,” he muses, slipping the tip in once more before he begins to slide in slowly, watching your mouth fall open and your eyes grow glassy, “wanna watch you cum on my cock.”

This new position practically has you seeing stars— Taehyun hovers over you and watches intently, chain hanging over your face as he presses your thighs against your body, fucking you straight into the mattress; you tremble and you gasp, a fire festering in your stomach as you beg for more— “m-more, please, faster, harder, s-shit—!”

Taehyun listens to your every request intently— his stamina is impressive and ruthless, and his cock is reaching and hitting places you never knew were there— your back arches and your hands scramble to grab onto something to stabilize yourself, inevitably falling onto Taehyun’s body in the end; one on his shoulder, the other on his bicep that flexes from the effort of keeping your squirming body still. 

“So… fucking… pretty,” Taehyun groans, watching your chest heave and your eyes blink away tears, leaning down to suck and bite at your breast, frowning at the bra that still covers them— throwing a leg over his shoulder, Taehyun pulls your bra up roughly, hips continuing to pound against yours as he latches his mouth onto your pretty nipples— you gasp, nails digging into his skin as you begin to cry to him, good, s-so good, fuck! 

“Shit, I’m close,” he says after a moment, pulling off your breasts with a lewd pop! That has your eyes rolling back; he moves up to press a sloppy kiss to your lips, murmuring your name sweetly and waiting for you to respond. “I’m close baby, so– so fucking close– where— hah, where do you want it?”

“Inside,” you immediately mewl, hearing him groan unabashedly in response, “Please, pleasepleaseplease, inside, inside—! Fill me, want your cum, wanna be full—!”

“Okay baby, okay,” he says sweetly, kissing at your neck and wandering up to your ear, “gonna fill you up good, just like you want.”

“Oh, are you close too?” he asks, and you nod furiously, watching as he goes back to hover over you, watching every change in your expression intently, “I can feel it, pretty cunt’s squeezing me so good– c’mon, cum for me baby, wanna see it, wanna watch your pretty face, will you let me? Yeah, only for me to see— gonna cum, fuck, make you mine, you’re mine only, okay?”

His words are enough to send you over the edge; you let out a long whine and scratch at his skin, crying out his name desperately as your nails rake down his back, down his arm; he hisses at the feeling, the pain enough to set him off and join you right after; his hips stutter and his face screws up from the pleasure, brows knitting together and teeth gritting together as he lets out soft moans— but his eyes never leave yours, deft fingers circling your clit as he lets you ride out your orgasm— your legs tremble under his hold, eyes rolling back and face smoothing out from the pure euphoria you feel.

“Yours��� just yours,” you sigh out, feeling his hips finally still, thick cum beginning to leak out from you, falling onto the sheets and ruining them completely; you pant and try to regain composure, but it’s really, really hard— you feel like you’re on cloud nine, words tumbling past your lips before you can second guess them, “y’have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that.”

“Really?” he asks; the panic you feel in your chest is short-lived, because as soon as you see the soft look in Taehyun’s eyes, you melt. 

“Yeah…” you say softly, suddenly a lot more shy under his gaze, “this was like. Attempt number one hundred of me trying to get over you. Or make you jealous.”

“Hmm… well, you don’t have to do that anymore. I’m all yours,” he mumbles, swooping in to steal a slow kiss from you; you can’t control the giddy laugh that leaves you at that, lazy hands tangling into his hair to keep him close. 

“Good,” you murmur against his lips, “I was running out of guys to use against you.”

His hand squeezes at your hip in warning— you smile coyly. 

“Joking, of course.” 

Nipping at your lip, Taehyun sends you a half-hearted glare. 

“You better be.” 

You give him a giddy nod; after tonight, it wasn’t like anyone would be able to compare to him, anyway. Shifting underneath him, you wince at the feeling of your sweaty body rubbing against the sheets— Taehyun is able to read your face before you can get anything out.

“Wanna go home?” he asks softly. 

“Please,” you say, giving him a shy smile that has his heart flipping pathetically, “will you carry me?” 

He laughs, placing a chaste kiss on your lips and sneaking his arms under your figure. 

“Always.” 

[fhrlclln]

it started in hollywood | the ghoul

SUMMARY -> after 200 years, after the bombings, after everything went to shit, the ghoul still had one thing in his mind that never left him, it was his family. it was you. his star wife.

the ghoul/cooper howard x wife!fem! reader

masterlist

GENRE -> fluff & angst

WARNINGS -> typical fallout violence, vault-tech sucks, cryo shit, poor lucy, radroaches, swearing, emotions, you’re his wife, drugs (chems duh)

WC -> 4.08k

a/n: so fAWK I FORGOT TO POST THIS anyways, so i’ve fallen for walton goggins and of course the ghoul hence a fic!

likes, comments and reposts are greatly appreciated !! <3

enjoy !!

underneath the scorching sun of the wastelands, the ghoul stares ahead at the vaultie ahead of him that’s walking limply that’s bound by his lasso. the sand underneath his feet is a pain in his ass feeling the grains go inside his shoes every step he takes but it was a treck. all went to shit when this particular vault-dweller got the head of his bounty eaten by a fucking gulper and destroyed his vials trynna not be eaten by it, and now he’s running out of his chems which was a total shit indeed.

yet he stills keeps living on as usual. just a lot of shit that’s going on.

lucy huffs out a breath out of her chapped lips, dehydrated and legs sore from walking a mile. the rope wrapped around her waist wasn’t helping either and neither was the scorching sun shinning brightly over head either. her vision was starting to get blurry but she could see they were nearing abandoned pre-war buildings. she glances behind her, seeing the ghoul still walking cooly, coughing a bit but still looked like he was still holding up which annoyed her. she sighs, walking a bit more, hoping maybe the ghoul would have a change of heart and maybe they’d settle down at some abandoned building there and rest for a bit— and maybe a chance to escape and continue on her quest to bring back her father.

lucy huffs as they halt for a moment. the sound of splashing water catches her ear as she glances back again to see the man holding a canteen as he screws it open and chugs the water down. she stares at it, panting, her mouth salivating at the sight of water.

“sir…” she pleads, “sir, please, i need water… please.” she begs as the ghoul momentarily stares back at her and eventually ignores her as he continues to drink. her brows furrow, desperation gnawing inside her. “please.” she rasps, more loudly. the ghoul doesn’t say anything as he drinks then emptying out his canteen once he’s done. precious water droplets wasted as a mockery to the poor girl. lucy stares at him with disbelief as the ghoul unsheathes his shotgun as he gestures for her to walk. the poor girl obliges, not wanting to get a bullet to her head as they continue on until lucy’s pip-boy rad meter suddenly triggers. her footsteps halt as she turns to where it was indicating radiation to a puddle of water in which her eyes hunger at until the ghoul spoke.

“water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink.” he says casually. “ain’t much stays clean here, vaultie. you’ll see.” he warns.

“is that what happened to you?” she huffs. “radiation?”

“something like that.” he answers as they continue the walk, passing by a large vault-tec advertisement. lucy looks at it, a sign of determination for her remembering her dad and her vault. a gunshot rings as the face of the vault boy is shot right clean. she quickly glances at the ghoul, seeing he was the one who shot it.

he lowers his shotgun, staring at the holed face, anger seeping in him silently. distain for whatever vault-tec shit he sees. they continue on yet the cold silence from the ghoul can be felt all the way. he hated that fucking corporation, ruining his fucking career, sending him into a downward spiral all because he trusted that woman. but amongst all he fucking hated was how not only his career went to shit in hollywood, he hated that he got his wife involved in it.

ah, hollywood. his thoughts run to there, a distraction for the walk. he wasn’t one to dive in much in his memories, past was past, but dammit was the past the only thing that maybe kept him sane. because after all, it all started in hollywood.

when he met you.

his hand dives down in his inner pocket of his duster, fishing out something. his hand grips a worn-out photograph, one he got along his travels exploring the worn out california crest studios, back when he was fresh from this awful new world he awoke to after the bombings. a small photograph of you. one he ripped out of a picture frame out of desperation from a studio. you were a star, a known actress back then, known for your bombshell status and numerous romantic films you’ve been in. and known for being his wife as well thereafter.

cooper howard’s star wife.

he remembers it clearly, meeting you for the first time behind set when he got casted for one romantic film he did for the first time, as only a side character. he was fairly still new in the industry back then before his big breakthrough and you were already big in name. you were the female lead and his heart immediately knew from then on that he was in love with you from the first meeting. you captured his attention and everyone else but he was smug enough to say that he caught your attention, and the rest was fucking history.

the ghoul stares at his precious photograph, gently caressing the worn out picture with his thumb. the one thing that kept his sane. a numbing feeling encapsulating him as he forces himself to look away, focusing now on the present. he tucks it back in his pocket, right inside his chest pocket, above his rotting heart. it wasn’t the time to grieve now, he spats in his mind, he has shit to deal with.

the walk continues on, the ghoul could tell they were passing by studios seeing a lot of tour buses surrounding the area. they past through it on a route to another road in where the ghoul’s destination is. he coughs, a little more hoarsely as suddenly the vaultie in front of him stops and stares at something.

“what you starin’ at, vaultie?” the ghoul tugs his lasso harshly as lucy yelps at that as she glares at the ghoul before he turns his head to take a look at what the smoothie halted their walk for. his eyes slightly widened and his radiated heart stops momentarily at the sight before him.

it was you.

you, on a life-size poster, holding an appetizing cold nuka-cola bottle, smiling brightly as ever with your signature red lips and perfectly styled hair. the poster was a bit shredded and dirty but it still had the picture of you still intact than his photograph that he stares at it now. the same old fluttering yet sentimental feeling filled his hollowed chest as he takes a step to get a good look on your face, that face he dreams of everyday. memories started to flood in and he remembers this very advertisement that you had done. heck, he was even behind the camera, watching you from the set when you posed for nuka-cola, being the it girl that you are.

lucy is confused at the sudden silence the ghoul gave as he stares at the poster she was staring at on a while ago. she knew you, she was even a fan of you after watching numerous movies of you back back when she was still in the vault. was the ghoul a fan of you as well? she thinks as she opens her mouth to speak.

“big fan of her?” she asks yet the ghoul doesn’t answer her for a moment, still staring at your poster. but hearing your name made him feel something, something he hadn’t felt since forever.

“you know her?” he asks back which surprises lucy expecting he’d shrug her off or tug his lasso again and tell her to get a move on.

“y-yeah, loved her movies. always watched them ever since i was a kid… with my dad.” lucy says, surprised at the sudden small talk she was having with the cold bounty hunter.

“huh.” he grunts at that, a genuine small smile gracing his lips as he lifts his arm up to touch your poster as he admired you. his darling star wife. your eyes were still sparkling like diamonds even on a poster. still a star after 200 years, huh baby? he sweetly thinks.

lucy’s eyes widened at the sudden genuine… genuine smile the ghoul gave. he must be a really big fan, she thinks.

yet the sweet feeling dies down inside him. you were gone. gone from this world. he grieves at that harsh realization that he never got to see you one last time before the nukes dropped when you went away for work as any other day while he was at a kid’s birthday party. he never knew what happened to you, never knew if you survived or if you were still alive, if there was a miracle. but there were no such things as miracles in the wastelands, that he knew well. he steps back, letting his hand drop and he turns ahead, tutting his chin to lucy who was staring at him.

“get a move on.” his small smile fades as lucy nods when he tuts his shotgun again. he glances back at you one last time and he sees the wedding band on your finger, a pang in his chest erupts as he forces himself to look away and continue on. you were gone. that was it, he harshly tells himself.

that was it.

they arrive to a town, to a medical clinic of some sort, a worn down one as usual. they could hear some grunting and hissing coming from inside and the young girl was hesitate go in as the ghoul pushes her to move forward. the ghoul was looking for rog, another fellow ghoul, hoping he had some spare vials yet luck run out for that. and things did get ugly, shooting roger on the head was mercy, poor fella almost to the brink of turning feral. and poor lucy watched him cut the man up and eventually she cut him up for the ghoul for some ass jerky.

well shit. the ghoul thinks, as they continue on the walk inside the town. concern floods in him, turning feral wasn’t on his list today as well and neither was the vaultie almost escaping from him and biting his damn finger off. on their walk, they happen to past a vault, just a little bit out of the town, he don’t give two shits about what’s in it yet lucy was now adamant they try to go in there.

“please, sir!” lucy pleads again, pointing to the direction of the vault. “i can g-get in there, and maybe the fellow people there can give us supplies and your vials.” she pleads, the idea of her mind getting non-radiated water and food making her gnaw in desperation. he raises a brow at how she can get in there yet the idea still opposes him. he didn’t want to be dealing with more bubble-head smoothies.

“and why the fuck should i agree on that, vaultie?” he coughs out, more violently now.

“please, i can get in, my pip-boy can get us in.” she begs, desperate for him to agree. “listen you need those vials, right? my vault had those and i know every vault has a storage of that in our clinic. if i could get to talk to the people there and reason with them, maybe they can give it to us.”

“maybe.” he scoffs at that, another cough follows through as he could feel the more drastic changes in him now. he wheezes, sighing. he had no problem defending himself if the vaultie turns on him once they get into that vault so why the fuck not? he steps forward as lucy’s pleading eyes wait for his answer.

“well, alright then.” he says as lucy face fell into relief until he spoke again.

“but so we’re clear, vaultie, we’re not done yet. and i won’t hesitate to shoot you and those damn other vaulties if things turn to shit from what fuckery you’re saying.” he warns as lucy quickly nods.

it was amusing for him to see the girl stumble in her steps despite being dehydrated and exceptionally tired as she rushed to the massive vault. it made her look mad, like an addict rushing to a pile of chems. he stands before the vault, feeling the coolness of being in the shade a little relief for him. still, looking at what vault-tec created, on what he advertised made him sour. he sees lucy plugging in her pip-boy to some panel beside the vault, a minute passed and the massive doors open, the sound of it ringing through his ears. before lucy could get in, the ghoul tugs his lasso as she stumbles back as she glared at him.

“gentlemen first.” he says as he got in, the vault was different to see. not like the ones he got in to advertise back then. it was more… industrial from what he can see than a home. lucy steps to his side, confused at the sight of this vault, expecting there should be a vault keeper by the control panel but there was none. the vault door behind them seals shut again, sealing them from the wasteland.

“cat got your tongue, vaultie?” he speaks up to the dazzled lucy.

“this…” she doesn’t know where to start, the vault isn’t the same as hers. “this is d-different.”

“yeah, well…” he shrugs. “i guess vault-tec don’t cater that home of yours to all vaults.” he walks forward to the hallway, an empty hallway, he couldn’t hear any footsteps or murmurs coming in so he guessed this vault must’ve been abandoned.

“t-there should be people here. a vault keeper by the vault door to greet us and an overseer ready to question us—“ she explains, walking behind him, still confused.

“then you’re wrong.” he replies “place still looks intact though.” he looks around, rounding a corner and now into a room in where he halts his steps, surprised at what’s in it and how cold it was.

“well shit.” so many cryogenic chambers filled the room in where he sees. humor fills him, so vault-tec wasn’t advertising just a home but also a way for people to be frozen, huh?

lucy walks quickly to him to see it. “w-what—“

“the people you were looking for are frozen turkey.” he says casually, stepping in, still cautious of his surroundings as he ready his shotgun. lucy walks faster, looking around to see multiple people frozen in these chambers.

“are they… pre-war?” she asks.

“i’d reckon.” he answers, standing in front of one, getting a good look of this person. observing the state of the man in the chamber, he could tell he looks alive seeing the fella still breathing.

“and still alive.” he snickers. he wonders what vault-tec advertised for this shit.

“i don’t understand…” she’s still confused, confused why people are willing to be frozen alive. “why… if they’re frozen then there must be someone watching them?”

“not if that someone is already dead.” he tuts his chin to the control panel where a skeleton is lying down in front of it. he must have guessed maybe something happened to the one caregiver—or more in this vault.

lucy gasps at that. “then how will they all get out?”

“their fate, vaultie. just a fucked up one.” he reminds her and steps away from the chambers. it was grim realization for all the people living here, that they’ll be frozen forever because of vault-tec after they promised them their safety. lucy is rendered speechless of what she’s learning. a moment of silence transpires and a sudden alarm rings off from one of the cryochambers, a blaring red light is seen from it. lucy looks at the ghoul, seeing him confused as well. she rushes to it to see a woman in the chamber as a terminal beside it warns that it was failing life support.

“she’s dying!” lucy shouts, worried.

“leave it.” the ghoul warns, not wanting lucy to touch any shit here.

“if i don’t do anything she might die.” she reasons as the ghoul sighs at her. the terminal’s screen flashes that the chamber is critically failing and that to press the eject button immediately. lucy huffs as she searches for the eject button, ignoring the ghoul’s warnings. a red button is under the terminal and she could see the eject label. despite her arms tightly tied to his lasso, she does one thing that surprises the ghoul as she butts her forehead to press it quickly.

“motherfucker—“ the ghoul grits his teeth as lucy slumps down to see the cryochamber open, cold air hitting her cheeks as the woman in it groans awake. lucy watches as her eyes open suddenly and a gasp is awoken in her as the very woman stumbles out of her chamber, falling to the floor as well.

“ma’am?” lucy spoke up, dazzled to see this woman. seeing clearly that she wasn’t wearing a vault suit like hers but in a black mini-dress. the ghoul watches from afar of where he stands, something familiar about this woman who lucy ejected sparked curiosity in him. it couldn’t be—

“i-i can’t see.” your hoarse voice croaks.

“is someone there?” you call out, blinking your eyes frantically but you still couldn’t see clearly. everything was blurry and confusing for you as you tap the floor from where you are slumped.

lucy is starstruck. you were the woman she just saved from life support. she couldn’t believe it as she glances to the cowboy, seeing him equally shocked as her as well.

“ma’am, i-i’m here.” lucy gently calls out as you raise your head yet the image of lucy is still blurry. your face then drops, into a sudden look of worry.

“m-my husband. is my husband here?” you immediately ask, remembering cooper was supposed to visit you on set after his gig at a birthday party and yet the bombs fall and you couldn’t get to him.

“cooper… cooper howard is he here?” you ask again, panicking.

“he’s…” lucy couldn’t answer that. “i don’t know, ma’am.”

“please… please tell me he made it. i need…” you blink again as it was still blurry. hysterical now that the woman talking to you didn’t know where your husband is or if he even got in time to get into this vault despite you knowing he fucking hated this.

“i-i need, fuck, please tell me he’s here. cooper—“ you sob now. “is my husband alive?” you asks, tears staining your cheeks.

“i don’t know…” lucy’s voice lowers, sympathetic for you. after being frozen for such a long time, your vision was still adjusting to the sudden awakening. your sobs grew louder, realizing he didn’t make it. lucy lips tremble at the sight of you as she looks to the ghoul, seeing him stand frozen as like the people in the chambers.

“sir?” she calls him out.

cooper is dumbstruck at the sight before him. he didn’t know if the lack of chems were taking a toll on him but there you are, his darling beautiful wife, alive and in one piece. still looking like the day he last saw you, all gorgeous in that black dress you wore. he hesitantly steps forward, his rotten heart beating so loudly. a number of emotions are mixed in him. and he was scared. but seeing you crying had his feet finally moving to you and lucy. you were sobbing, calling out his name, and that struck him that you thought he was dead. but in reality, he was in fact dead, now just a shell of a man that turned into a ghoul. he wasn’t cooper howard for a very long time but maybe now, he could still feel his old self inside him from just seeing you alive.

“coop…” you sob his name out. confused and scared as your vision started to become more clearer by the minute. you couldn’t stand, just by the thought of cooper dead had you wanting to be put back in that chamber again.

“i’m here, sugar.”

he finally speaks, crouching next to you. “i’m right here, baby.” he whispers as you frantically lifted your head up hearing his voice, vision still a bit blurry. but a silhouette of a man wearing a cowboy hat had you stopping your sobbing.

“cooper, that you?” you sniffle as you weakly tried to sit up.

“slow, baby.” he ushers you gently. “your body’s still adjusting.”

“you made it?” you ask.

“sort of.” he says as he gently caresses your cheek, he shudders feeling of your soft yet chilled skin. yep, this is real. you’re alive. “once your eyes adjust, sugar. i ain’t the husband you had back then.” he sadly tells you as you nuzzle your cheek to his warmth.

“that’d be impossible.” you tell him as he chuckles at that sadly. “how long have i been frozen turku?”

“give or take, 200 years.”

“well shit.” you say, shocked. had it been that long?

“shit indeed.” he grins, he could tell your vision was starting to come back as he warns you now. “i’m telling you sugar, you not gonna like what i look like now.”

you blink and blink and the light blinds you for a moment before you stare up at him. you gasp, seeing his face now. he was right that he was different. his face was all muscle, no nose, eyelids were sunken, as if the bones are starting to come out but his hazel eyes were still the same. cooper stares at you, waiting for you to be scared and disgusted by him but you surprised him again.

“what happened to you, coop?” you cup his face, softly caressing it. he shudders, the coldness from your hands and the feel of your soft fingers again mad him relish it. “what happened without me?”

“long story, sweetheart.” he says. “not a good one.” his face is stern at that and you could tell he’s gone through a lot of shit.

you hum, letting go of his face, sitting up now. “i thought you were dead.” you tried standing up but failed as cooper helped you up, hands on your waist to keep you steady as you look into his eyes.

“so did i, sugar.”

“i’m glad you’re here. don’t care you look different, coop.” you sigh with relief, caressing his chest as cooper nuzzled his face into your neck, breathing in your scent, glad you still smelled like warm vanilla. it made him feel more warm, the cold exterior he put on melting down because of you. it felt like for a moment that he was in home with you. the two of you dancing in the kitchen with the radio on after you made dinner.

“mhmm.” he hums, loving this feeling of having you in his arms finally as he caresses your hips to your waist. “feelings mutual, baby.” you giggle a bit when he kissed that spot on your neck.

“uhm…” both of you pulled apart for a moment at lucy’s interference. “just so you know, there’s a couple of roaches on the walls.” she points out as cooper whips you to his side as one lurches at him. you yelp at the sudden gunshot, shocked to see cooper handling a gun again. it kind of looked like he was acting in his cowboy movies with attire but you sure knew that this was not a movie as he eliminated each one. their guts splattered on the floor, sticky and green looking, you cover your ears from the gunshots as you watched your husband stomp on the last one.

“those were roaches?” you asked frantically, appalled at the sight, used to seeing those little critters being little.

“radiation does some fuck up evolution, sweetheart.” he explains calmly, taking your hand into his. for the first time in 200 years he finally feels that feeling he was denying for, hope. and that hope went straight to finding him to you. he kisses your hand lovingly, a promise made he’d protect you once you two get out of the vault.

“a lot has changed up here.” you look at him, there’s this unspoken sadness in his eyes. you understood what the world would like up there and you felt ready for it knowing he’s by your side as you nodded with determination.

“i’ll be ready to face it with you, coop.”

[slutforitoshi]

nagi seishiro - illuminate *:･ﾟ✧

ft. fratboy!nagi x f!reader, 18+ minors dni

cw: intoxication/fucking under the influence (alcohol), nipple play, thigh riding, fingering, choking, cumming on body

synopsis: what happens when you lose your roommate at the biggest frat party of the semester?

wc: 2.06k

A/N: inspired entirely by a whiteout party i went to last night 

you stopped trying to look for your new roommate about half an hour ago, giving up the impossible search in a sea of sweaty bodies dimly lit by uv lights. 

“pleaseee” she had said with doe eyes, begging you to go with her to the first frat party of the semester. you barely knew anyone within greek life and the last time you were at a frat party some random girl threw up all over your new dunks. this was before you knew frat shoes were a thing, and the memory makes you shudder. 

“i heard ksig has really cute guysss” she continued, still trying to convince you to come.

you rolled your eyes, “sorry i’m not interested in lumberjack built gym rats whose greatest contribution to society is shotgunning beer cans in seconds.” 

“what else could you possibly be doing this saturday night? and don’t tell me it’s homework because it’s just syllabus week” she exasperates, not giving up, 

“well-” you started, but then realized she had a point. 

“come on it’s the biggest party of the semester”

and that’s how you ended up at kappa sigma’s fall rush social: whiteout theme. looking at the state of the frat house, you wondered who came up with that terrible idea. the uv lights only highlighted the filth on every visible surface area. upon entry you were already regretting your decision.

that regret only grew when you realized your new roommate was a runner. you lost her barely half an hour in, unable to find her in any public space. you chose to avoid looking in the private rooms though because well you know what happens in there during parties. 

low battery: 20%. great now your phone was running low too. there had to be at least another two hours before the party ended, and something told you your roommate wouldn’t be calling you back anytime soon. 

“HE JUST DOESN’T MISS!!” a deep voice booms followed by an eruption of incoherent yelling. a crowd was growing near the beer pong table, and you decided to join them. it had to be better than sitting alone doing nothing on a couch now that your phone was low.

you push your way towards the front to see what the noise was about, and you see a duo stood at one end along with a singular guy at the other. the one-man team was clearly dominating as visible by the cup ratio: 1 to 8. he is up, having to land a pingpong ball into the remaining cup twice. 

shoot, in. the first shot is successful, and you could hear people murmur in anticipation. 

shoot…in. the crowd erupts in an instance, and the guy is hoisted up onto another’s shoulders. there, you finally get a good look at him and your stomach flips. he’s fucking hot.

all your previous qualms about the theme were long forgotten as you see how his white hair glows under the dark lights, illuminating his figure. he’s tall too, nearly touching the high ceiling from the shoulder ride. 

“LET’S FUCKING GO THAT’S OUR SEI!” the guy carrying him shouts, earning whoops and hollers from who you assume are the ksig brothers. 

“so his name is sei” you murmur, liking the way it sounds on your tongue.

“can i go play games upstairs now?” sei asks, and his brothers boo in response. he seems entirely different from the other frat boys, almost bored at his win, like it was only obvious that he would sweep the other team. your attraction continues to grow.

“come on sei, you never come to these things. at least stay for a little longer.”

“what a hassle” you hear him say softly as he’s lowered back down to the ground. his brothers go to the next room for more drinks you assume, but sei stays put near the table. and suddenly you’re met with an opportunity. 

you swish around the remaining jungle juice in your solo cup for a bit before raising it to your lips and downing it in one breath. you needed a shot of courage (or multiple in this case because why the fuck did that taste like 80% alcohol). 

“you were really good back there” you lean on the pong table, facing your body towards sei who was currently occupied with his phone. he looks up from his device, and you don’t miss the glance he gives towards your body.  

suddenly you’re thankful that the only clean white fit you had was coincidentally your sluttiest one. the crossed fabric that wrapped around your neck defined your cleavage, and the short tennis skirt threatened to show your ass at the slightest bending motion. 

“oh thanks…do i know you?” 

ouch. 

“probably not, this is my first ksig function” you try to ignore the heat that flashes across your face, “not really a frat party person.”

“me neither. the bros made me come today since there were zetas talking shit about our pong game” he responded, and you’re thankful to find common ground.

“well clearly they weren’t much of a match. i’m surprised you’re a brother if you don’t go out often”

“hm i actually only joined on a bet. my friend said he’d buy me a ps5 game if i got a bid” he shrugged. “i’ve been trying to drop for over a year now, but they need me for the tournaments”

“tournaments?” you ask, clearly not the most knowledgeable about frat culture. 

“yeah for pong and beer die. they think ksig has a shot at the finales for the first time in years or something” 

they probably do judging by sei’s performance just a few minutes prior. you reach for a ping pong ball, purposefully grazing his arm lightly to reach it.

“can you show me how to throw? i suck” you pout slightly. technically it wasn’t a lie, you couldn’t aim for shit, especially not while buzzed. 

“it’s easy, it’s all in the elbows” he takes a ball himself and shoots, naturally landing it of course. you try to mimic him after, only to see the ball bounce off the cup’s rim. 

“you’re bending your wrist too much” he comments, handing you another ball. you try again, and it ricochets off one cup, barely missing the one next to it. 

“you’re overextending your arm now” he says, already with another ball in hand. 

“let me show you”, you expect him to demonstrate again but instead he places it in your hand and takes position behind you. he raises your arm with his own, showing you exactly how the movement should go. you’re focused on anything but the technique though, instead thinking about how warm his fingers are against your wrist. 

“now you try” he says, by your ear. holy shit he’s right there. he doesn’t move from the position though, and the nerves caused by his proximity makes you miss terribly.

“how did you get even worse,” he’s clearly shocked, doubting his own teaching ability for a second, “you should just give up” he concludes.

“hey it’s just because you were so close” you defend yourself, eyes widening once you realize what it suggested.

“do i make you nervous?” he smirks, and you’ve never felt smaller (maybe that’s also because he’s literally towering over you). 

“so what if you do?” you retort, digging yourself a deeper hole. 

“want to go to my room?”

~~~

the door is barely shut before your lips are on each other, tasting remnants of alcohol. he leads you to his gaming chair, seating you on top of his lap. immediately you can feel a bulge form under you.

sei’s kisses aren’t aggressive, but needy. his hands are on your waist, pulling you in further towards his chest. then back out, creating just the right friction beneath your skirt. you build a rhythm, grinding on his thighs, which you note are quite toned. 

“f-fuck sei” you moaned against him, resulting in a tightened grip on your hips. 

“you’re making a mess” he observes, pleased at the damp streaks forming on his pants. while one hand remains at the side of your waist, he moves the other one up, settling on your right breast. he eagerly tugs your shirt to free it, capturing the bud with his fingertips. pinching and rolling, emitting louder moans from you. 

“so fucking perfect” he murmurs before diving in, capturing the sensitive bead between his lips. the sensation pushes you further to the edge, eyes rolling back as his tongue circles it.  

he picks you up easily from the chair, face still buried in your chest. he sets you down on his bed and starts to unbuckle his belt. you remove your own drenched panties and move to do the same with your skirt.

“keep this on” he smacks your hand away from the waistband, “i’ve always wanted to fuck someone with a skirt on”

he takes off his shirt with one pull, and wow abs. he smirks again, seeing your eyes fixated on his body. 

“like what you see?”

“how could i not?”

if you looked closely you would be able to see his cock twitch, clearly thrilled at the validation. his lips are on you again, and he mumbles out a “you drive me fucking crazy”

fingers are prodding near your entrance, and you instinctively shut your legs from the sensitivity.

“keep them open” he pulls your knees apart, strong arms keeping them from shutting again. he circles your clit first, lubricating his digits with the surplus of slick. once satisfied, he enters with two at once, earning a particularly long moan from the stretch.

“so wet” he starts to pump, quickening his pace, “all for me”

“just like that sei just like that” you repeat, intoxicated by the feeling. the squelching noises are overwhelming, bouncing off the walls. then he curls his fingers.

“don’t do that i-” you choke out, “i’ll cum!”

he doesn’t stop though, still thrusting his perfectly curled fingers through your orgasm. wait, what kind of frat boy makes the girl cum first? 

before you could ponder too much he’s wrapping an arm under you, swiftly flipping you over onto your stomach. you go onto your knees, and he’s nearly cumming at the view of your ass up against him. 

glancing back you see him quickly rip open a condom with his teeth before slipping it on, as if he’s done it a billion times before. with looks like those you wouldn’t be surprised.

he positions himself behind you, aligning himself with your entrance before pushing. 

“seiii” you drawl, in awe at how perfect he fits within you. 

his hands are positioned at your hips, slowly thrusting his own against you as you grow accustomed to the intrusion. 

“y-you can go faster” you moan, and what can he do but comply. his thrusts are sharp and quick, and you begin to hear his own breathy moans at the feeling of your velvety walls. 

“your body’s so perfect…like it was made for me” he groans. his right hand moves away from your hips and rest against your throat, squeezing. 

the sudden loss of oxygen makes your mind go into a haze, unable to focus on anything but the pleasure. 

“flip over” he suddenly goes, before moving you himself. “need to cum while seeing you”

his hand remains on your throat as he continues to fuck you in missionary, getting closer as he hears those sinful moans and sees your face permanently plastered with an expression of ecstasy. 

“want you to cum on me” you plead, “want you to make me a mess”

unable to say no, he pulls out and rips off the condom with alarming speed. within a few pumps of his hand he’s granting your wish, decorating your upper body with thick spurts of white. 

you’re sure it would be a sight if you were to step back into the party under the uv lights. 

~~~

sorry i totally forgot to tell you i left with a guy >.<

you stare blankly at the text from your roommate displayed on your screen. yeah you were never going out with this girl again. 

“just stay here with me” sei says, also seeing the text from over your shoulder. “i’ll take you home tomorrow”

well you’d have to thank her for dragging you out this one time at least. you shut off your phone and succumb to sleep in the arms of your not-so-typical frat boy.

[skribbyposts]

Zosan Brainrot. haha ahaha.

tysm to @11yogurts for finally motivating me to share my debilitating zosan hyperfixation online ily

My ABSOLUTE FAVORITE Sanji hc is that post-timeskip he has WAYY too many things that hes picked up from momoiro and the crew is absolutely fine w/it, but it drives Zoro BONKERSSSS because he has a big fat gay crush on Sanji.

Example 1 : Heels

Got this idea from a a fic i read about 2 years ago, can't remember the name for the LIFE OF ME or what it was about, but not it has me imagining a post-ts Sanji coming back from momoiro wearing oxfords with a 4-INCH HEEL, both for style and combat reasons. Zoro just assumes Sanji's grown taller (which he is kinda pissed about) and goes on about his life. I imagine the realization goes somewhat like this:

~~~~~~~

Zoro would pause to say something about how this is the second time this week they've gotten ambushed on the Sunny, but he's too busy slicing the barrel off another marine's shotgun. He renders another officer unconscious with the butt of his sword, then sheaths it after looking around to make sure no stragglers try to sneak up on him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Sanji finishing off the group attacking him in a whirlwind of fire and shouted expletives - and then he sees it.

When Sanji arcs back into a handstand, the ankles of his tailored slacks ride up to his calves and What is the fuck is on his feet.

The shoes look like regular oxfords, laced black leather with a brown bottom - and a large, square heel at the back. Oh, they're heels, Zoro belatedly realizes.

Zoro stares, his face flushed and mouth probably wide open, as he watches the cook's blocky loafers take out a man's nose. Zoro should absolutely not find that as attractive as it is.

Sanji pivots on one of his hands, bringing both his legs in towards his torso before shooting up and over the gaggle of marines still chasing after him. He twists through the air, and Zoro can see the cook's muscled thighs contracting through his dress pants as he brings those fucking shoes down on another officer's head. The heels get spattered with blood as he delivers a sweeping kick to the rest of the men still standing, sending them sprawling across the deck.

Zoro is still frozen as the cook rights himself and dusts off his suit, patting down his pockets for a cigarette and lighter. The clacking of his heels against Sunny's deck as he heads to the galley match the rapid pounding of blood in Zoro's ears, and Sanji finally, finally catches his gaze from where he's heading to the galley.

He looks- breathtaking, evidence of the fight everywhere on him. Hair mussed, shirt missing two buttons, his exposed chest covered in a light sheen of sweat as he turns to face Zoro. his visible eye narrows and his mouth curls up into a smirk, taking in the dusting of red on Zoro's cheeks.

Before Zoro can say anything, Sanji's gaze shifts behind him and widens, and Zoro suddenly feels a sharp pain on the back of his head.

"OH, YOU FUCKER!" and Sanji's heels (the cook wears heels Zoro's going to fucking die) pattering over are the last things he hears before he blacks out. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ahaha zoro being stupid and not paying attention to his surroundings because he's so distracted by Sanji in battle is CANON BECAUSE I SAY SO. i love them so much aksdjgfhadjkslhflkjsad

sorry for any spelling mistakes in this little ficlet but OHMYGOD i needed to get this out into the world and its currently 3am and i wrote this in like an hour. also First ever post???? yay me!!!!!! . also should i make more of these?? cause i definitely have more ideas. lmk (≧◡≦)

[unabashegirl]

Different 5 | College HS

Harry's quiet, routine-driven life changes one weekend when he meets Y/N through a mutual friend at her party. She comes from a superficial, materialistic world with absent parents who believe money solves everything. Despite their differences, something clicks that night, and Y/N can't stop thinking about him.

Author's note: Hello everyone, I hope you are all doing well! Here is another chapter of Different. Let me know what you think! 🫶🏻

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to all 25 chapters, various one shots and much more :)

masterlist

“Holy shit,” Mitch screamed as they all piled into the car. “What the hell is going on?” He pounded the steering wheel. “Did she really invite us over?” Jeff and Liam laughed in the backseat as they buckled up.

“She’s so attractive,” Liam said, scrolling through his phone. Harry wished he were in the car with her.

“Are you done?” Harry asked as Mitch started following her toward her apartment.

“Hell no!” Mitch replied, slamming the wheel as they stopped at a red light. “Are you planning to sleep with her tonight?”

“What do you mean?”

“The only reason she’s letting us stay over is because she wants to be around you,” Liam said, giving Harry’s shoulder a firm slap.

“So, are you sleeping with her or not?” Jeff asked with a chuckle. Harry suddenly felt nervous and regretted coming. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be with her, but he wasn’t sure how to handle the situation if it arose. He was a man and had seen porn, but he knew it was all staged. Most importantly, he had feelings for her and genuinely wanted to make her feel good.

Harry had always put girls on the back burner. He’d never been one to desperately seek out casual encounters. His main focus had always been his education, aiming for a stable future, providing for his family, and having better opportunities. But since Y/N had come into his life, she had become his only thought, consuming his mind day and night. He was constantly thinking about her and how she was doing.

“She’s just being nice,” he shrugged, dismissing their comments.

“You’ve got to make your move, H,” Mitch said as he drove. Harry didn’t respond, keeping his thoughts to himself. He mentally played out every possible scenario that could develop in her apartment. “And don’t you dare start stuttering and get all shy around her.” Harry wanted to punch him but held back and bit his tongue.

A few minutes later, they arrived at Y/N’s apartment. It was stunning—large for a single person but cozy, thanks to the numerous carpets, cushions, pillows, and warm lighting.

“What does her dad do again?” Jeff asked quietly as Y/N closed the door and slipped off her shoes in the foyer. Harry shrugged, unsure.

“Welcome! Make yourselves at home,” Y/N said with a smile, hanging her coat in the closet beside the front door. She watched as they scrambled to remove their shoes and hang their coats.

Meanwhile, she wrapped her arms around Harry’s torso waiting for everyone to settle down and arrange their shoes.

“There are two bedrooms upstairs and one downstairs. So, it’s up to you where you want to sleep tonight!”

“Shotgun upstairs!” Sarah called out just as the others began to argue. Y/N giggled as Jeff and Liam pushed each other, covering her ears and shaking her head at Harry’s friends.

“I’m sleeping upstairs and ON MY OWN!” Sarah shouted after the noise subsided a bit.

“Makes sense. You’re the only girl.”

“So, who’s sleeping with whom? Does Mitch sleep with Liam or Jeff?”

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Liam suggested, placing his hands on his hips.

“Deal.” The three of them started playing, with Mitch winning the last room upstairs.

“Where are your parents?” Jeff asked as he sat on the living room couch.

“Business trip. They’ve been gone for four months.” Y/N said this with a casual tone, but Harry could sense it bothered her. Everyone nodded and continued exploring the living room.

“Do you guys want to use the pool?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

“There’s a pool?!” Mitch exclaimed, surprised. Y/N nodded and walked to the sliding doors. She raised the blinds and opened the doors, revealing the heated pool.

“Oh!

“It’s fall. It’s too cold,” Liam pointed out as he stepped onto the terrace.

“It’s heated.”

“We don’t have bathing suits,” Sarah reminded them as everyone tested the pool’s temperature.

“You can borrow one of mine. I think my stepbrother might have left some clothes upstairs.”

“You have a stepbrother?” Harry asked, confused. He had never heard of him or seen him in any family photos, and Y/N had never mentioned him.

“I do. He had a falling out with my father and doesn’t come around anymore. He’s a jerk,” she admitted as they watched Mitch attempt to pick Sarah up and throw her into the pool. “I’ll go get them.” Y/N recalled the distress her stepbrother had caused their father. Although her father wasn’t perfect, her stepbrother was far from it.

“I’ll come with you,” Harry offered, following her upstairs. The upstairs was decorated just like downstairs, with numerous paintings and plants. It felt warmer and less modern compared to the other house he had visited. They walked to the last room down the hall. Her bedroom was painted a warm cream color, with a huge bed dominating the space. Everything was neat and thoughtfully arranged.

“Let me change quickly,” she said, disappearing into her closet, which was larger than his dorm room. Harry was left alone with his thoughts.

As he wandered around the room, he noticed the numerous picture frames and stacks of books beside her bed and desk. It surprised him to see how many books they had in common. He hadn’t guessed she read so much in her spare time. He could hear his friends laughing from upstairs, which eased his nerves.

“I’m ready,” she said, startling him. She emerged in a lime green bikini from a trip to Mallorca years ago. It left little to the imagination, and Harry found it hard to keep his eyes off her. “I’ll be right back!” Y/N went to the guest bedroom where her stepbrother had stayed last. He had arrived while she was at school, demanding to stay, and left a day later when her father forced him to leave. He promised to send his clothes, but he never did, as he never contacted them again.

“Do you want to change here or downstairs?” she asked as she reentered her bedroom.

“Here is fine,” he replied, choosing a pair of navy-blue shorts. Meanwhile, she selected several bikinis for Sarah to choose from, in various colors and styles.

“Are they comfortable?” she asked as he emerged. “Are you okay? You’ve been unusually quiet.” Her head tilted, curious and concerned. Harry didn’t feel prepared to handle her bare skin against his fingertips.

“I guess I’m just overthinking,” he said with a frown. Mitch and Liam’s comments had gotten to him and affected his enjoyment.

“Okay,” she said, and he noticed how close her lips were to his. He smiled and gave her a gentle kiss, sweet enough to make her smile. “Let’s go downstairs before Sarah gets thrown into the pool,” she giggled as they pulled away.

As they walked downstairs, hands intertwined and smiles on their faces, Harry braced himself for the reactions from his friends when they saw Y/N. He walked in front of her, trying to shield her from their prying eyes, feeling protective.

“Here,” Harry said, handing them the trunks.

“The bathroom is at the end of the hall on your right,” Y/N instructed. The boys, too excited to notice her appearance, raced to get into the pool. She wrapped her arms around Harry’s torso, hiding her nearly naked body from view. She then walked over to Sarah, giving Harry’s neck a quick kiss before presenting the bikinis. “I brought you a few options because I wasn’t sure what you’d prefer. This one is just like mine but white.”

"Absolutely not. I don’t have the confidence to pull that off or the body."

"You don’t," Harry confirmed, earning a glare from Sarah and an elbow to the ribs from Y/N.

"Yes, you do! It’s 2024. Anyone can pull it off. Don’t listen to him," Y/N encouraged, but Sarah still declined. Y/N continued showing her different options until she settled on one. "You’re a jerk," she pouted, turning her attention to Harry after Sarah disappeared to change. Y/N then took some towels out of a closet and placed them on the three tanning beds outside, by the edge of the pool.

"I was just being honest," he shrugged, walking to the steps of the pool and getting in. The water was warm, feeling more like a jacuzzi than a pool, but he didn’t mind. It helped him relax. Y/N connected her phone to the speakers and started playing music, setting the ambiance for everyone. Meanwhile, Harry swam around, trying to clear his mind. When he came back up for air, he noticed Y/N had also submerged and was staring at the starry night.

"Beautiful, huh?"

"Kiss me," she demanded. Harry reached out, cupped her face in his hands, and pressed his lips and body against hers. Even though he had her pressed up against him, it still didn’t feel like enough. He wrapped his arm around her waist, and as he had imagined, her skin felt like silk under his touch.

She was surprised by his sudden burst of confidence, until he pulled away and his cheeks reddened. Y/N pecked his lips a few more times before the moment was cut short by Mitch, Liam, and Jeff running out and jumping into the pool.

"It’s so nice," Mitch smiled as he came up for air.

Sarah walked out wearing a two-piece, but a bit less revealing than Y/N’s. Harry had made her feel self-conscious and reminded her of her insecurities. He made a mental note to personally apologize to her. It had been a joke, but he had accidentally taken it too far. They swam and joked around for hours, even making fun of Y/N, who laughed and joined in. Harry watched, as she yawned, arguing with Mitch. He swam up to her and wrapped himself around her.

"Tired?" he whispered as Mitch started another argument with Liam. Meanwhile, Jeff floated around, looking at the dark sky, and Sarah sat by the steps with the water up to her neck, laughing at Mitch.

"A bit," Y/N admitted. Harry was also starting to get tired. "I think I’m going to head upstairs and get into bed," she announced. "You guys stay here if you like. Just make sure to close the doors and turn off the lights." Everyone muttered and waved goodbye.

"I’m going to go as well," Harry confessed, following her. Liam winked at him as he swam past. Y/N slicked her hair back as she stepped out, leaving Mitch and Liam with their mouths open wide. She was unbelievably irresistible, and Harry couldn’t blame them. She had curves in all the right places.

"It’s freezing," she complained, quickly wrapping a towel around her body. Harry followed her, closing the door behind them as they tiptoed, dripping water, up the stairs.

Chapter 6

[the-marshals-wife]

Restless (Raylan Givens x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: More than a little inspired by the Lady A song "Need You Now", here's an impromptu Raylan fic because this gif also inspired me and it's past time I wrote something for my marshal man. ✪

Description: Raylan Givens x Fem!Reader, moody fluff | Warnings: kissing, guns and alcohol mentioned | Setting: before Primeval | Word count: 1,064 | Gif credit: user vincenzides

Imagine being unable to sleep and finding Raylan on your porch keeping watch

It was another sleepless night for you. There seemed to be million things to worry about lately, and not enough daylight hours to do it in. You'd spent the last two staring up at the ceiling before giving up hope for a restful night. You rub at your eyes as you make your way down the stairs, each creaking step ringing throughout the old farmhouse. If you were being honest, the house being paid off was the only thing not making you lose sleep.

You'd gone the route of warm milk and hot tea before, but you found the only thing that truly helped in times like these was curling up in your grandfather's rocking chair. Even just a few minutes there never failed to soothe your troubled mind and bring back the peace of simpler days.

You flip the lock on front door, pull it open as it squalls on the hinges, and switch on the flickering porch light.

"Still need to change that," you remind yourself, adding to your already exhaustive mental list.

With it well past midnight, it was almost unsettling how still and silent it was outside. You push open the screen door and step onto the weathered porch boards in your slippers. In the summer months, at least you had the comfort of the crickets chirping. But on a damp spring night like tonight, the abundant life of the hollows had yet to sing its song.

Having just crawled out of your warm bed, the cool air hits your face and sends chills right through you. You cross your arms and shuffle towards the end of the porch.

You freeze in place, however, when you see a dark silhouette sitting motionless in the rocker. Fight or flight already kicking in, you're counting the steps backward to the shotgun just inside the door when the shadowy figure speaks.

"Don't shoot me," calls a familiar voice.

"Raylan Givens, you just about gave me a heart attack," you exhale as you clutch your chest.

"We wouldn't want that," he replies, peering up in the dim light, "I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to scare you."

As your heart starts beating again, you begin to find your words. You pull your robe tighter around yourself and tentatively approach him. "What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep," he says, as if that were an explanation.

"Well I can see that. But what are you doing on my porch?"

He leans back in the rocker and turns his head towards the pitch black yard. "Had a feeling."

"Bad?" you question, watching him survey the darkness.

"Yeah."

You sigh. That's the way it was with Raylan. The quickest draw in the county with a witty comeback or sarcastic comment, but never one to waste words on the hard days.

"Guessing you don't want to talk about it," you venture, sitting down in the wicker chair beside him.

"Not really," he answers.

You nod, frowning. "Can I at least get you a drink?"

"No, thank you. Had plenty already," he says, finally looking over at you, "I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," he sighs, taking off his hat and running a hand through his hair.

"Raylan, should I be worried here? Is something coming? Do I need to put on my 'shooting shoes'?" you laugh a bit, hoping to ease the tension.

"No, it's not like that," he chuckles, leaning forward on his knees and staring down at his boots, "I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm doing here. There's nothing wrong. Just the whiskey talking, I guess."

You scoff. "You're many things, Raylan Givens, and a good liar is not one of them."

He glances up at you and smirks.

"Why are you really on this porch tonight?" you ask.

He leans back again, eyes fixed on the hat still in his hands. "This job gets you a lot of enemies. That I wouldn't mind so much, except it never ends with me. People I care about tend to get caught in the crossfire."

He turns to you, and even in the dark, you see in his eyes a vulnerability you'd scarcely seen before.

"I can live with a lot of things, but I won't live with you getting hurt. Least of all because of me. I'm not gonna let that happen."

You pause as you realize that not only was Raylan being honest about his feelings, but that he has them for you. You half-expected a hallelujah chorus to follow, but there was only the peaceful quiet of the evening. Maybe you were asleep, you wonder, for surely this was a dream.

"There's only one thing for it then," you begin, standing up.

You take the hat from his hands and place it in the chair you'd just left. Before he can protest, you sit down on his lap, and he stares at you completely stunned. Tucking your legs up, you lay your head on his shoulder and rest your hand on his chest.

"You'll just have to stay here," you declare softly.

Hesitating only a moment, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer.

"Guess I'll have to," he replies.

Several moments of him holding you in comforting silence go by before he speaks again, and you can hear him smile as he does.

"I should warn you, though. I've been told, by just a few people mind you, that I can be a pain in the ass."

You sit up, snickering, "Tell me something I don't know."

His gaze softens, weighing your challenging words.

"Alright, how about this. If I stay, I don't have plans to leave."

Just when you thought he couldn't surprise you any more, he goes and says a thing like that, looking at you the way he is.

"That's good. Because I don't have plans to let ya," you smirk.

You let your words and worries fall to the wayside as you lean in and kiss him. His hand slides up your neck and into your hair as he kisses you back hard, tasting like whiskey and longing. Many heartbeats of intoxicating embrace pass before you both remember to breathe.

He grins at you and chuckles.

"You're never getting rid of me now."

[crunchyheartbeat]

Sheepherder Simon

TW: mentions of guns and cussing It was something strange, something interesting to look at when you went outside of your house, following along the riverside to make your way around the small farm that was slowly loosing life.

A man, a giant man to be exact, seeming to be huddled into the herd of sheep you have, the big momma of the group licking his leg in comfort while patiently waiting to see any reaction from the man.

Dropping your bucket of hay you collected you start running inside back towards your house, your no idiot to a situation like this. A man stumbling upon your farm, pretending to be injured just to strike when you let your guard down. Feeling the air between your feet and reaching your hands out to touch the door, you make your way towards the kitchen to grab the shotgun you have below the kitchen cabinet.

Grabbing two shells and shoving them into the barrel you start to pace your breathing as you walk back outside, eyes set on the man that's still laying in the same spot. Letting out a loud whistle and walking through the few sheep you have you point the barrel of the gun towards the man, kicking his leg to wake him up.

"Who the hell are you?" you said loudly, startling some of the sheep.

The man starts to sture a little bit, opening his eyes and moving his hands in front of his face, blinking multiple times and taking small, hard breaths.

"I'm Simon"

"Simon?" you say lightly, kneeling down a little bit to get a better look at him. "Well Simon, I hope that you can see this gun I have in my hand and the fact that your on my goddamn land." You watch as he looks around, setting his eyes upon the sheep that have wondered around yall.

"This is your land?" He states out loud, letting a painful groan follow after.

"Yes, it is mine and you need to leave. I have helped men that have come along in a similar state like you but I shall not do it again, you need to leave."

Simon starts to allow his eyes to wonder, starting from the lack of shoes on your feet to the worried look on your face, as you try to hold yourself together. "Look I don't mean no harm, I was hurt, my leg has been twisted a bit and it's bleeding. If you give me some tools i can help myself up and leave as you wish."

Taking a step back and contemplating on what you do, you do try to get a better look at his leg, you do start to feel a little bad reckon that you did just kick the crap out of the leg that seems to be a bit twisted. "What happened to your leg" you ask him.

"I was running after one of my sheep, I have my own farm a good bit back from yours, though I don't think I have ever seen you before" He states as he raises his eyebrow a bit. "There was some wolves that came around, and I was trying to get my sheep back into there shed when one ran off and I followed, and well here I am."

You watch as he points at you, feeling your eyebrows come together in confusion. "Look behind you" he says. You turn your head slowly and sure enough there is a a sheep, a sheep you don't really recognize. "Simon I have random sheep come onto my land every so often, it's not something that is new, so I need you to really start telling me the truth."

Simon tries to sit up a bit, wincing in pain and leaning back a on his arms when he lets out a long, loud whistle, one very similar to the one you had let out not to long ago. As you stand there above him, you watch as the sheep starts walking towards him, slowly at first but then start to run at a slow pace. "Tots" he says very low. "Her name is Tots and she is my dumbest sheep out of all of them" He starts to pet her head while looking back at you.

"I am not gonna beg you not to shoot me, if that's what you feel like doing then go ahead, but at least if I die here you might as well take care of Tots out of your guilty conscious"

You start to lower your gun and let the barrel set close to your foot. "Let me see what I can find for you, just wait here". As you start to make your way back to your house you start to wonder if this is a good decision, you've helped a man out like this before and where did it leave you?

Alone and nowhere to go.

Gathering what you can and making sure to grab a small bucket of water, you make your way back towards Simon, taking in the scenery of him and the sheep, almost back in the huddle that they where in when you found him. "I have some water, bandages, and a single bandied i found in my kitchen" Simon lets out a small chuckle and grabs what you have " oh yes, a bandied is exactly what I need".

You see him eye you as you start to frown "Well I do have crutches but frankly there in the attic and I can't reach the string to pull the latter down." "You look tall enough to reach an attic string if I say so myself" he lets out while trying to roll up his pant leg. "Well I can't, so unless you can go in there yourself to grab them I don't think your getting them" He looks at you and gives a small nod.

"Can you help me up?, I know I'm a big man but I promise I won't do anything, help me up and ill grab the string to the attic for the crutches and stitch myself up."

Walking a bit closer to him and debating on wither you really should, you decide to because you do know that you have more of a advantage if he does decide to do anything. Helping him stand up and trying not to fall when he applied most of his weight on you "What's your name?" he says as he turns his head to look at you.

"Y/n" you say out loud. You see him smile a bit and nod his head "Y/n, that's a nice one, really pretty". You turn your head to glare at him as your almost to the front of your house, "Don't think flattery will get you anywhere, i am simply helping then you will be on your way, the same for Tots."

He nods his head in agreement. "As you have said, that is what I shall do." While making your way through the front door and making a turn into the small hallway where your stairs are, he pulls on the string and brings down the latter for it. You help walk him back into your living room to sit down on the couch, to make your way up the attic stairs. You hated going up here, the pile of boxes of someone you loved stacked away being unused and forgotten.

Coming out of the attic and walking back towards the living room you take a stop to really look at Simon. You can't really help but admire how he is really built like a farmer, His muscles tight through his flannel and the scares that ran across his face, let alone the nice tan he has going on, he is a beautiful man to look at.

You watch as he struggles to finish getting his pant leg up past his knee, you walk towards him and bend down to help. " I know how to sew and what not, I use to help my late husband when he would get hurt tending to the animals." You look up to see his eyes widen a bit.

"Husband" Simon says, not really surprised but having a undertone to it. "Well that was before he past, those are his crutches there so please take care of them."

Simon nods his head in acknowledgment while his lips tighten in a line "I understand". He watches as you start to dab the rag in water and onto his wound, taking deep breathes when you start to actually stitch it up. "Thank you y/n, I really do appreciate this."

Giving him a small smile and making sure to clean up the mess, you start to walk away when you feel him grab your arm, very gentle and as soft as he can manage.

"Let me stay the night y/n, I know it is a lot to ask but I can hardly walk and I'm tired, in return I'll help you with your farm the best I can while taking care of mine."

You can feel the tears start to swell and your heart beating heard against your chest. It has been years sense you've last had any man come anywhere near you like this, and even offer to help you. you can't help but feel a bit ashamed. You're a widow, left alone in this house to rot and die, and it is something you have come to accept a long time ago, but here, right now, you can make a decision just like you did years ago when your late husband sat in that same chair, in this same situation.

"Okay" you say to him. "You can help"

So this story if intended to be sort of a slow burn and i will definitely add a second chapter whenever I am able to. but intel then I hope you enjoy reading my story!!!

[n8doe]

A.N — this is my first ever time writing about chris so i apologize if its not accurate 😥 i’ll get better overtime (i hope)

SUMMARY — after being alone in an apocalypse for years, you finally find the people youve known and got separated from since the beginning + your boyfriend (chris)

WARNINGS — very little gore is mentioned since its an apocalypse, lowercase letters intended, but other than that, nothing. also, the beginning might be boring so skip wherever you want

you finally reach the edge of the forest, spotting a street ahead. the sight fills you with a sudden burst of energy, and you run out of the woods and onto the street. the hot weather of the unknown state hits your skin, causing sweat to drip down your neck.

you walk across the street towards a gas station, scanning for any signs of life. you desperately need to find gas and a car; the thought of continuing on foot with your shoes, which are on the verge of falling apart, is unbearable. the gas station looks abandoned, but you hope it might still have some supplies. driven by desperation, you approach the building, ready to search for anything that might help you on your difficult journey.

you knock loudly on the glass door of the gas station, making sure none of the dead are going to sneak up on you. after a few seconds with no response, you open the door, which rings a small bell as you step inside. the interior is dimly lit and dusty. you cautiously walk through the aisles, scanning for any useful supplies.

the shelves were almost empty and fallen over. debris covered the floor along with a bunch of dead bodies of the people who decided to take the easy way out. the bodies were melted into the ground, showing they had been there for ages. you carefully navigate around the fallen shelves and debris, trying not to disturb anything. the air is thick with the stench of decay, making it hard to breathe. as you move further in, you spot a small office in the back and decide to check it out, hoping to find something useful.

you twist the doorknob and try to push it open, but you realize something is blocking it. you slam your body against the door, attempting to push it open, but it doesnt work. you try one last time, and this time the door flings open, causing you to fall onto the floor.

you snap your head toward the noise of growling, seeing a dead body trying to crawl at you but unable to move. it had no legs and its arms were weak. you sigh in relief, crawl over to the dead body, and stab your knife into its head. then you notice a can of gas nearby. you immediately push yourself off the ground and pick up the can, revealing it was halfway filled. you let out a breathy chuckle and turn around to leave the office, but you stop when you see a pair of keys hanging off a hook.

you snatch the keys off the hook and walk out of the gas station, quickly spotting the car. you fill up the gas tank, toss the can into the back seat, and get into the drivers seat. starting the car, you drive away, not knowing where youre headed. hopefully, the roads will lead you somewhere safe, somewhere you can stay for a while.

after what felt like seconds, you heard a gunshot and your tire popped, causing your car to swerve and spin until you hit a tree. you groan as the airbags deploy, hitting you in the face. with the car flipped on its side, you have to crawl out of the window, broken glass scattered all over you.

once you exit the car, you look around and see no one. you feel a sting in your shoulder and look down to see blood running down your arm, soaking through your shirt.

“turn around,” you hear a man call out from in front of you, causing you to look up and see a stranger with a shotgun pointed at you. you stare at him for a few seconds. “now,” he demands.

you slowly turn around, raising your hands in the air, not wanting to cause any trouble. you hear his footsteps getting closer before you feel his hands patting down your sides, checking for weapons.

"you in a group?" he asks, grabbing the knife from your back pocket before backing away and pointing his shotgun at your head again. when you don't reply, he sighs and speaks in a stern manner, "look at me and respond."

you roll your eyes, turn around, and drop your hands to your sides. "no," you reply plainly, watching as he puts your knife into a bag on his shoulder.

he squints his eyes and looks you up and down. you have dirt and blood all over you, from both yourself and the dead. "whats your name?" you tell him your name, which causes him to nod and lower his shotgun. "follow me," he says, nodding his head before walking toward the woods.

"why would I do that?" you scoff, your eyes tracking his every move and reading his body language effortlessly. you groan and put your hand to your head, realizing the crash really messed you up.

"youre injured and alone. its not safe for a girl like you," he states.

"you think im not capable of handling myself?" you tilt your head. the man shrugs and starts walking into the woods. you shake your head before following after him.

after following the man for half a mile, you learn his name is ian. his camp is a motel surrounded by fences with guards patrolling every corner. you follow him to the front gate, watching as three men point guns at you while ian tries to talk them down.

“i have her weapons; shes not dangerous. she needs help because she was in a crash," ian explains, acting as if he didnt shoot your tire and wasnt the sole reason you crashed.

"take her to medical, then we'll send her off with supplies and a car. we dont have enough space for more people, ian," a woman with black hair said as she opened the gates. ian grabbed your arm and dragged you towards what you assumed was the medical area.

"’m sorry," he mumbles. "i'll make sure to give you extra supplies for wasting your time. i’ll be waiting outside for you once the doctor comes in." ian walks out of the room, closing the door behind him with a heavy sigh.

you knew it was a mistake to follow him here, but you did it because he also took your only weapon. you lie back on the bed, feeling the blood start to dry and become crusty as you wait for the doctor to come and help you.

you hear a lot of mumbling on the other side of the door before it creaks open. you look over, your eyes widen, and your body freezes. the doctor stops in her tracks when she sees you, a smile creeping onto her face.

madi filipowicz calls out your name before speed-walking over to you and hugging you. you hug her back, your face becoming numb from how big your smile is.

"do you want me to grab chris for you?" madi asks, pulling away from the hug and resting her hands on your shoulders.

you dont even know how to respond. you havent heard that name in years. youve been trying to find chris ever since the outbreak happened, but you found nothing. no clues, no leads—absolutely nothing. that was until a man named ian shot your tire and took you to his group.

you nod your head repeatedly. "youre amazing," you say. at your words, madi runs out of the room, her smile never leaving her face. you stand up from the bed and start pacing around the room. your hands are shaking, and your stomach is hurting. theres no mirror in the room, so you hope you look okay. you havent showered in a couple of months, and you definitely smell like shit.

the door creaks open again, and you turn around to make eye contact with chris. it had been years since you last saw him, each day feeling like an eternity. the thought of him had kept you going through the darkest times.

your breath caught in your throat. you took a tentative step forward, your voice barely a whisper. "chris."

chris’ eyes widened in disbelief. "theres no way…" he murmured, his voice cracking with emotion. he took a few steps towards you, then broke into a run, closing the distance between you in an instant.

you collided in a tight embrace, the world around you fading away. tears streamed down your face as you clung to him, feeling his warmth, his heartbeat. "i thought i’d lost you," you choked out, your voice trembling.

"i never stopped looking for you," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. he pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours. "youre actually here. this is unreal.”

you nodded, unable to find the words. instead, you leaned in and kissed him, pouring all the years of longing, fear, and love into that one moment.

when you finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed. "i love you so fuckin’ much," he whispered, his voice filled with determination.

"i love you," you mumble, feeling a sense of peace you hadnt felt in years. in that moment, amidst the chaos of the world, you had found your home again in his arms.

"move aside," nick says, pushing chris away before hugging you tightly. a beaming smile lights up his face as he squeezes you, then lets matt and nate hug you as well.

"i thought you were done for,” matt says with a smile. "we saw most of the herd heading your way, and i seriously thought you were a goner.”

“im lucky.” you smile back.

"you shouldve heard how much that baby was whining about you in his sleep,” nate laughs, referring to chris, which makes you giggle.

"okay, you guys can reunite in a second. ian told me she got into a crash and shes badly injured. everybody out," madi demands, pointing towards the door. everyone groans and exits the room except for chris.

chris looked you up and down, "how the hell do you crash a car in the middle of an apocalypse?"

you debated whether you should snitch on ian or not, but you decided against it and shrugged. "i forgot how to drive."

"at least you can drive," madi mumbles as she cleans the wound on your shoulder. she glances at chris, who is giving her a harsh glare.

"a’right, dude," chris squeezes your hand before looking back down at you, his expression immediately softening. "i love you."

“i love you," you mumble, kissing his lips again before looking at madi, who is still cleaning your wound.

hey guys, im sorry if this wasnt great 😥. I PROMISE ILL GET BETTER. please make sure to send requests—i need ideas and i want to write more. i'll write anything (nothing with nick that has to do with sexual or romantic shizz)

[cowgurrrl]

Chosen to Deserve

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (plus platonic!Ellie Williams x fem!reader)

Summary: “How can I teach her some way of being human that won’t destroy her? I would like to tell her, Love is enough, I would like to say, Find shelter in another skin. I would like to say, Dance and be happy. Instead I will say in my crone’s voice, Be ruthless when you have to, tell the truth when you can, when you can see it.” - Margaret Atwood [3.6k]

Warnings: all the drama of coming into Jackson, sibling turmoil, talks of Sarah and Jane, arguing, reader and Joel are both kinda dicks in this one but I get it

You hear the horses hooves before Joel can. You grab Ellie's arm and turn to run in the opposite direction when another masked person on a horse comes running up. At least a dozen of them flanking you on both sides and they all have weapons pulled. You don't even try to reach for your gun, and Joel does the same, pushing Ellie and you behind him and raising his hands. You and Ellie follow suit but keep her close enough for your hands to brush against each other. Her breathing is uneven and scared. Joel and one of the men have a conversation, but you can't focus on it. All you care about is Ellie. The man Joel was talking to gestures his gun at her.

"Take five steps back."

"She's not going anywhere." You say, and Joel mumbles your name. 

"Shut the fuck up." The man spits.

"Easy," Joel jumps in. You don't know whether he's talking to you or the horseman, but you glare at him anyway. He ignores it and looks past you at Ellie, nodding at her. "You'll be okay." He says. She looks at you for confirmation, and your jaw clenches, but you nod at her scared eyes.

"Do what they say." You say gently, and she carefully takes several steps back. You turn your head to watch her, but a gun cocking turns your attention back to the people surrounding you. The man who told you to shut the fuck up is staring at you through squinted eyes, his shotgun pointed in your direction. You get the message. But she's too far away. You can't even see her in the corner of your eye. You want to grab her wrist and bring her back to you, but you don't move. The man whistles, and a dog appears out of nowhere. You can't remember the last time you saw a dog that wasn't feral. 

"Last chance for a bullet," he says. "If you've been infected, he'll smell it, and he'll rip you apart." The dog barks and thrashes against the leash, and you hear Ellie gasp in fear. Goddammit, you think as the dog slinks over to Joel, smelling his shoes. There's no way out. You're too slow, and there are too many guns. You'd barely get your hands on your weapon before they'd kill you. 

The dog jumps up on Joel and rears her head back. No one shoots. It must be her clear signal. The dog is called back before she's rereleased, this time to smell you. She repeats the action, and your shoulders drop. 

"Satisfied?" You ask, and Joel says your name again like he's scolding you. 

"One more." The man says as he rereleases the dog. She starts walking toward Ellie, and your heart beats in your face. You can hear her feet shuffling backward in the snow, and the dog growls at her. Your ears ring as you wait for the dog to knock her to the ground or worse. A bark pierces the air, and Joel jolts with the sound, but Ellie's laugh stops you from running toward her. You turn and see her giggling in the snow with the dog licking her face, completely safe. The dog is called back, and Ellie makes her way back to you. Nobody cocks a gun or yells at her to stop. 

"You just bought yourself ten more seconds," the man says. "What are you doing out here?"

"I'm just lookin' for my brother," Joel says. A woman makes her horse walk forward, and you tuck Ellie behind you. 

"I'm okay." She whispers, but you don't say anything. You just watch Joel and the woman. She asks his name, and he tells her. She turns back to the man who yelled at you and says something you can't quite hear. 

"Lower your weapons!" The woman yells. No one even flinches or tries to question her. They just do it. "We're taking them back with us." 

In a few minutes, you're each given a horse and are told to follow the group. The journey "back" to wherever they're leading you takes about ten minutes, and the massive fort-like gate leaves you speechless. Joel glances back at you and Ellie and raises his eyebrows as if to say, "getta loada this shit." You shake your head and glance at Ellie, who has a ghost of a smirk on her lips. 

Once you're through the gate, a small city reveals itself. There are people. Like, lots of people. None of them show weapons or look up when you pass. You even see small kids chasing each other with pink cheeks and too-big hats. You can't look at them for too long. There are stores full of food and warm clothes, shoemakers, fucking ironsmiths. You almost think you've fallen into an alternate dimension. You and Joel seem to land on the same person as you get further into town.

He has long curly hair and a dark mustache though he has the same patches Joel has in his beard. They hold themselves the same way, you realize. Like there's too much weight on their backs, but they're doing their best to hold it anyways. He looks good. Healthy. Definitely not in whatever danger you and Joel thought he was in the whole time. Joel calls his name, and Tommy comes bounding down the scaffolding and into his older brother's arms. It's sweet and, by the looks of it, desperately needed by both of the men. 

You turn to look at Ellie and see her looking a little lost and the tiniest bit jealous as she watches the teary reunion. You nudge her with your elbow and mouth, "What a baby" to get her to smile. She gives you a small one but falls back into her pensiveness. You slide off your horse to shake Tommy's hand and introduce yourself.

"And this is Ellie," you say, gesturing to Ellie. She smiles and waves but doesn't get off her horse. 

"Y'all hungry?" Tommy asks, and that gets Ellie's attention. She finally comes down to the ground, and you all walk to the dining hall. 

It's the first hot meal you've had in months. You do your best not to scarf the food down like you want to and keep your manners around Tommy and Maria. Ellie, however, doesn't really care. Joel tries to correct her, and you give him a look. 

What? His raised eyebrows ask.

Leave her alone. You jerk your head in her direction.

Look at her. He widens his eyes.

Stop. You roll your eyes and look at Tommy with a smile.

"So, how long have you been in Jackson?" You ask, and he takes a deep breath.

"Uh, a few years now. I bounced around for a while before settlin' here." He says with a soft smile that reminds you of early mornings with Joel. You have to look away. 

"Ma'am, we're grateful for your hospitality and all, but it'd be nice to have a moment here just for family," Joel says, looking at Maria pointedly. You elbow him in the ribs, and he gives you another look. 

"What?" He hisses.

"You're being rude." You whisper. 

"You fuckin' hit me."

"Actually, uh..." Tommy says, reaching for Maria's left hand to bring the matching wedding rings to your attention for the first time. "Maria is family."

It's been a long day. You haven't seen Joel since he and Tommy disappeared into the bar this afternoon. Maria showed you and Ellie an available house you can stay in for the entirety of your time in Jackson, however long. She's been nice to Ellie, but she's made it clear she doesn't care for you or Joel. You're sure she's heard stories from Tommy about Joel and, therefore, can make assumptions about you. Still, she hasn't said anything explicit to you. You expect there to be a fight, though. There's no way there won't be one. 

After you take showers and put down your heavy packs, Maria silently takes you to watch a movie in the same place you ate lunch. About halfway through, you glance at Ellie, settled in a chair, and decide to sneak out to the general store for supplies. It takes longer than you thought it would, but you find a new hat and gloves for Ellie. It'll be worth it for when you have to get back on the road. You’re excited to show her but she’s locked in her room when you returned to the house. You try getting her to talk to you, but she doesn’t even open the door. She just yells at you to ask Joel.

"Do you wanna tell me why Ellie is sulking in her room?" You ask as you turn the corner and walk into what used to be the primary bedroom. You find him sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. 

"We got in a fight," he grumbles, pulling his head out of his hands to look at you. "Doesn't matter. Tommy's takin’ her to the Fireflies in the morning."

"What?" You ask. What the fuck did they talk about while they were alone? 

"She'll be safer with him. Tommy knows Jackson better than anybody. It's better this way."

"I'm sure his pregnant wife would disagree with you."

"Don't start with that."

"This isn't Tommy's fight, and you know that. He doesn't even know about her and-"

"I told him," he says. You blink at him as you try to wrap your brain around what he just said. Anger rolls through you. It wasn't his place to tell Tommy without consulting you first. He can't keep making decisions about her without talking to you. "I told him everythin’, and he agreed to do it. Said it would take him a few days, but he would be fine."

"You're serious." It's meant to be a question, but it sounds more like a statement. His eyes are heavy as he nods. 

"We were gonna go our separate ways soon enough."

"You promised Tess."

"I said a lot of shit I didn't mean," he snaps. "You should go with 'em if you think it's so unsafe. I'm sure they could use the extra hands."

"And what're you gonna do?"

"Go back to Boston and forget this ever happened." He says without hesitation. The implication that you would be on his list of things to forget hits somewhere deep in your chest. You start pacing, unsure of what to do with the buzzing behind your molars.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Joel, really? You got into a fight with a fourteen-year-old, and now you're gonna hightail it back to Boston? Just like that?" You scoff, and he stands from his place on the bed, getting in your face. You square your shoulders in a silent dare. 

"She brought up Sarah." 

"And Jane," you say. "And Tess. And Bill and Frank. And Sam and Henry. You really wanna keep going? Because I can play this game all day."

"Tommy is takin' her to the Fireflies. End of story." He tries, and you squint at him. 

"Oh, so you're abandoning her with someone else because it's more convenient for you? Sounds real familiar." 

"Fuck you."

"Fuck me? I'm not the one going back to Boston because I'm afraid of a kid." 

"It ain't about her. It's about Tommy-"

"Knowing this area better. I get it. But you know what he doesn't know? Ellie," you say. He wavers, stepping back a little, but you don't let him go that easy. "He doesn't know how to take care of her like you do. We've been traveling with her for six fucking months, and now you just want to dump her on someone else because it's hard? Because she brought up your kid? Huh?" You ask, but he doesn't say anything. He just stares past your face. "She's fourteen, Joel. Her job is to push your buttons just to see what comes out. She takes her anger out on you because she trusts you to handle it. She trusts you. We both do. But I swear to God, Joel, if you do this..." You're not sure what threat you wanted to tack onto the end of that sentence, but it dies in your throat. Your chest is pressed against his, and your breathing is ragged. You step away, finally, and make for the door. 

Originally, you were going to sleep in bed with him. He even joked about it when Maria mentioned something about the house before you split off. Now, you'll sleep on the fucking couch if you have to. You're angry. You should be slamming doors and stomping down the stairs, but your hand lingers on the doorknob for some reason. You turn back to him. 

"D'you really think you're the only person who hurts when you look at her?" You ask. "She... she is everything Jane will never be. I know that. But she's not Jane. And she's not Sarah. She's Ellie, and she needs help. If you can't handle that, then fine. Go back to Boston, but don't blame a kid for something you can't face." 

Joel is gone by the time you wake up. No note. No goodbye. Nothing. He even made the bed, so there'd be absolutely no proof he was ever here. You want to fight with him again. You want to yell at each other until you figure it out or come to a place of understanding. You want him to want to figure it out with you. But the world has never been kind enough to care about what you want. So, you brush your teeth, wash your face, and push thoughts of Joel away. You have to get her to the Fireflies safely. One of you should fulfill the promise you made Tess. 

When Tommy arrives on the doorstep with a sympathetic look and a rifle slung over his shoulder, you smile softly at him before opening the door wider. He shuts the door behind him as you move to the living room and pull your boots on. He walks over and plays with the blanket swung over the back of the couch. 

"You know, there are beds upstairs." He says, and you nod. 

"Joel and I got into a fight." You say. He's married. He should know how it goes.

"Seems to be a recurring theme with him." 

"Yeah," you finish tying your bootlaces and sit back to look at him. "You really don't have to do this, you know."

"I know. I just... feel like I owe him," he shrugs, the rifle moving with his shoulders, and you sigh. "Plus, Maria's already mad at me bout it. Might as well finish it."

"Both the Miller men seem to be battin' a thousand this week." You laugh. There's movement upstairs, and you take a deep breath. Tommy reaches out and squeezes your shoulder, and you let him. In the twenty-four hours you've known him, you've realized Tommy is gentler, softer than Joel is. Still, Joel told you the stories of how the hot desert sun beat down on Tommy's baby face as he held a gun bigger than him. You know he's just as dangerous as Joel. You just wish Joel bore it as well as Tommy does. 

"I should go talk to her." You mumble as you stand. He nods and wishes you good luck before walking up the stairs toward Ellie's room. 

A closed door has never been as ominous as this one. You push through the pit of dread in your stomach and knock on the wood, only opening it when you receive a response. Then, like watching fall leaves, you watch her shoulders drop in disappointment. She thought—no, hoped— you were Joel. You walk over and sit next to her on the window seat, putting a hand on her knee and squeezing affectionately. You sit like that for a moment before Ellie frowns at you.

"I really thought he would change his mind." She whispers.

"Yeah, me too." You whisper back. She purses her lips and shakes her head like she's scolding herself for getting her hopes up. You squeeze her again, but she doesn't say anything. She just gets up, throws her backpack over her shoulders, and trudges down the stairs. You sigh and look up at the ceiling, racking your brain for the best way to turn her mood around before following her. 

The walk to the stables is silent. You're each trying to settle into this new dynamic, but none of you like it. That seems to be the only thing clear about this whole situation. As you walk through the horse stalls, Tommy tells you something about the distance or the terrain or something. You lose track when you see Joel saddling up the horse you were coming to get.

"You came here to say goodbye or something?" Ellie snaps, but Joel doesn't even turn from what he's doing.

"No. I came here to steal one of these horses and go." His voice is strained, like he's been crying. Had he been crying? In the years you've known Joel Miller, you've never seen him cry. 

"I woulda gave you one." Tommy chimes in, and Joel nods.

"I know," he says, finally looking at the three of you. His eyes linger on yours before he looks down at his boots again. "Anyway, that was thirty minutes ago, and I guess..." he trails off and starts walking to Ellie. "You deserve a choice. I still think you'd be better off with Tommy-"

"Let's go." Ellie cuts him off, shoving her bag into his chest with enough force to make him stumble. You fight a smile as you glance between them. This, you think. This is how it's supposed to be. 

"Okay," Joel says. Ellie walks past him and to the horse, petting his nose and whispering sweet things. Tommy and Joel share a look of understanding before his eyes flick to yours. "D'you mind givin' us a minute?" He asks Tommy, and he shakes his head. He takes the horse Joel saddled up and Ellie outside before walking to the back of the barn to get another one ready. The air between you is thick as you stare at him, the dried tear marks on his cheeks catching the light, and you should be mad at him. You should curse at him and push him, but you don't. 

"You made Ellie really happy." You say instead. He nods and takes a step into you. 

"Only Ellie?" He rasps. You take a deep breath and press your tongue into your cheek, fighting the impulse to make a snarky comment. He can see the struggle and smirks devastatingly at you.

"I'm happy," you say. He takes another step closer, his chest hitting flush against yours, and you breathe in the mint toothpaste he used this morning. His lips ghost over yours, but you pull back and look at him intently before he can kiss you. "If you ever make me yell at you like that again, I will make your life a living hell, Miller."

"Promise?" He asks, a teasing lilt to his voice, and you raise your eyebrows at him. "I'm sorry for bein' a dick. I should've listened to you from the start. I'm sorry," he mumbles as he kisses you. "'M sorry." Kiss. "'M sorry." Kiss. "'M sorry." He trails down your neck, whispering apologies into your skin. You tilt your head to give him a little more room, relishing in the scratch of his beard against your pulse, when you hear Ellie's voice from outside. You slap his shoulder to get his attention, but he doesn't move. 

"Cool it, cowboy. There are kids around." You say, and he chuckles.

"Kid," he corrects. "And she's not payin' attention." He says, lifting his head to kiss your lips again. It feels like it's been forever since you've had a moment like this with him, probably since before Tess died. Still, he tastes familiar, and the press of his lips against yours is a comfort. You indulge in it for a few more seconds before pulling away.

"We have to go." You whisper, your voice wrecked from the effect he has on you, and he groans.

"Okay, okay." He relents, prying himself from you, but you catch his wrist before he can get far.

"I'm serious about what I said. I don't wanna feel like I did last night ever again." You say, and he presses his lips into a line before intertwining your fingers.

"I'm sorry for the fight. For bein' a dick. Everything. I'll do anything I can to never do that to you or Ellie ever again, okay?" He says. Reluctantly, you nod and decide to forgive him. You don't have time to be mad at him, and there's nothing you can do to change the past. You can only keep moving forward.

"Okay," you agree. "But Ellie deserves an apology, too." 

"Of course." He agrees easily. It's the least friction you've ever had while talking to him. You smile and kiss him one more time before you two walk out to where Ellie and Tommy are waiting with two saddled-up horses. The brothers bid each other a private goodbye, and you thank him for everything. He gives you directions as Joel pulls Ellie up on the horse to settle behind him, and you listen, too, in case Joel forgets something. 

Then, as quietly as you arrived, you leave Jackson and its inhabitants for whatever the Fireflies have in store for you three. 

[miriellesandthegiantpeach]

He's Got Me High

NSFW Bucktommy | Drug use, shotgunning, light hurtcomfort.

Tommy comes into Buck’s loft and drops his keys into the bowl with a long sigh. His body sure took a beating today and he’s going to feel it in the morning. As soon as he steps through the door, a familiar skunky smell fills his nose. It’s one of those days. He abandons his overnight bag by the door and goes to find his boyfriend, who’s probably high already. Couldn’t wait for me, huh? Tommy thinks, but Buck has a good reason. 

He rounds the corner and sees Buck slumped on the couch in nothing but dark gray  joggers that are sitting dangerously low on his hips. His arms are spread wide across the back of the couch - bare chest on full display. Buck’s eyes are closed and there’s a slight content smile on his lips. Buck looks so erotic just lounging there boneless on the couch. Before he gets caught, Tommy snaps a quick picture on his phone; can’t let that gorgeous sight go to waste. 

Tommy knows Buck is aware of his presence because he lifts an eyebrow in acknowledgment. He comes up behind the couch and puts his hands on the younger man’s shoulders, squeezing them gently. “Hey baby, bad leg day I take it?” Tommy is used to Buck smoking on days his leg is acting up, he’s just happy that something works. 

“Mmm yeah, I stepped on the stairs at a weird angle and set it off.” Buck lazily grabs Tommy’s hand with the one not holding the joint. He opens his eyes and cranes his neck upward to look at Tommy and tugs at his wrist. “Come here, the weed helps but I need you too.” 

And Tommy can’t say no to that invitation. He at least takes his shoes and overshirt off and sits next to Buck, mindful of his leg. He gently pulls Buck’s bad leg onto his lap and massages it; methodically going down his thigh, down his shin, and back up again. “Lemme have a hit,” Tommy asks Buck, which makes the younger man smirk. 

“Nope, this is all mine,” Buck says as he rolls his head to look at his boyfriend half-lidded. “But I have another idea.” Buck takes a long pull of the joint and holds the smoke in his mouth and pulls Tommy by the back of the neck towards his mouth. Tommy gets the hint immediately and opens his mouth slightly, when they are just an inch apart Buck blows a narrow stream of heady smoke straight between Tommy’s lips, filling his mouth and lungs. 

The sound of Buck’s steady blow and the taste of the high quality weed encompasses Tommy’s senses and his whole body releases all the tension it’s been holding. Tommy inhales deeply and slowly releases the remainder of the smoke. He drops his head onto Buck’s arm and closes his eyes, relishing this quiet and undeniably sexy moment. Of all the times they’ve smoked together, they have never thought to shotgun before, which is a crime really. Just knowing the smoke is coming from Buck’s mouth makes the high even greater. 

“Mmmm, I liked that,” Tommy muses, licking his lips. Buck pulls his head to him again, but this time to initiate a slow open mouthed kiss. The movement of time seems to slow - everything feels sluggish and meandering. No rush or goal in mind, just them taking what they want in the present moment. Buck wants Tommy’s tongue in his mouth, lapping up the taste of weed and Tommy happily obliges. There is no finesse to the kiss so when they pull away both have saliva coating their mouths.

Buck sits up and takes his leg back, stretching it out and moving it, testing to see where the pain is at. It’s dulled significantly, quieted down to a muscle soreness. “Much better,” Buck says to himself. Careful of the joint still between his fingers, he swings his leg across Tommy’s lap and settles on his thighs. He registers Tommy’s worried look and bends down to kiss the tension away between his eyebrows. “Shh, I’m good, wanna be close to you.” 

Tommy continues to rub Buck’s thighs that are now bracketing his, he always welcomes Bucks full weight on him. Buck’s free hand caresses Tommy’s cheek, “always so concerned about me,” he says reverently, thinking he couldn’t possibly be more in love with this man. Tommy chuckles at that, “Baby, it’s my job. Also literally my career is to take care of people and be concerned.” That pulls out a giggle out of Buck. 

Hanging onto Tommy’s shoulders, Buck lets the giggles take over for a minute, not bothering to reign them in because it’s just the two of them in their bubble of contentment. There's no need to hold back. And Tommy joins in because Buck’s laughter is always so contagious and that first dose of weed is seeping in. When Buck catches his breath he looks at Tommy with glossy eyes and flushed cheeks, and it’s one of Tommy’s favorite looks on his boyfriend; happy and relaxed and not in pain. 

“I think I need another hit,” Tommy’s voice is rough. Buck takes another pull of the joint and cages Tommy’s head in his hands, linking his fingers the best he can behind. Tommy has his head tilted up and mouth open; he waits for the sweet smoke to be passed to him. This time Buck makes contact with his lips, not a kiss but just barely touching. Now it’s not just the smoke he feels, it’s mixed with the heat of Buck’s mouth and that makes it so much better. Tommy can’t help the little moan that escapes the back of throat, hands going to hold onto Buck’s exposed hips. 

After the hit is passed and consumed. The high really sets in for both of them, intertwining with their bones. Their bodies start to feel light and floaty - heightening the sexual tension. The tent in Buck’s loose joggers is obvious now and he starts to grind his hips down onto Tommy’s, making the older man moan loud and slide down a little further to get more direct contact. Tommy blows out a breath, “fuck that feels so good. I’m already there.” 

Buck leans forward, balancing his arms on Tommy’s shoulders. He whines into Tommy’s neck wanting more but not willing to move out of this position. Heat is building in between them at an exponential rate. Tommy wants to properly fuck his boyfriend and not just come in his pants, which they are headed towards at the moment. 

Tommy gently pushes Buck upright again and stills his hips. The flush that started in Buck’s cheeks has traveled down his neck and Tommy wants to lick and suck every inch of that sensitive skin. Buck has the telltale ‘tell me what to do’ look in his eyes. “Touch yourself, baby, I wanna watch you get yourself more riled up,” Tommy tells him, swiping his thumbs across the skin right above the waistline of the joggers and digging in slightly into the V of Buck’s hips. 

Buck groans deep from his throat and slides his right hand underneath his joggers. Tommy can tell he’s not wearing anything underneath because he can clearly see the outline of Buck’s dick and the substantial dark spot from pre-come. 

Buck is slow with it, languidly moving his hand up and down his cock still housed in his pants, Tommy can't do anything but stare hungrily. The sight is truly straight out of porn - Buck with his legs spread wide over Tommy’s, right hand slowly stroking his cock, and his other hand at his mouth taking another hit of the joint, soft breathy moans falling from his lips. He looks completely blissed out, and the movement of his hand is tugging the joggers down even more so the head of his cock is peeking out wet with pre-come.

Buck fills his mouth with smoke and opens his eyes slightly to meet Tommy’s now glassy eyes. Tommy is absolutely transfixed at how ungodly hot his boyfriend is and just how turned on he is right now. Buck leans forward into Tommy, continuously stroking himself and giving the older man another shotgun hit. With Buck forward like this the back of his hand is now inadvertently rubbing Tommy’s bulge through his jeans. The friction and the smoke make the perfect combination; he doesn’t just exhale the smoke, it falls out of his mouth with a moan. Like moths to a flame, Tommy’s mouth is chasing Buck’s and connects their lips in a desperate kiss. 

The power between them has shifted over to Buck; Tommy is out of his mind right now and can’t think of anything else but want want want. “Baby-,” Tommy croaks like it’s the only word he knows, like he’s pleading for this man to take him apart and put him back together again. 

Between the noisy kisses Buck says against his mouth, “tell me. What do you want, honey? I’ll give it to you. Anything.” And he’s not lying, if Tommy asked for his soul, he’d carve it out and hand it over with a bow on it. 

“Need- you-,” Tommy replies completely breathless, panting for the oxygen only Buck can provide. “Wanna- wanna fuck you right here.” Buck takes mercy on him and shuts him up with another kiss. 

Buck disengages from Tommy’s mouth to sit up and takes his hand out of his pants and stands up. He calms his boyfriend’s worries with a ‘hold on a second’ finger. He gets the bottle of lube that’s shamelessly left on the coffee table and throws it somewhere next to Tommy on the couch. Then he works on undoing Tommy’s jeans and pulling them down with his briefs just under his knees, not bothering taking them all the way off. He finally lets the burnt out joint die in the ashtray and shucks his joggers off and climbs back on top of the waiting lap below him. Buck grabs Tommy’s hand and the lube to coat two fingers and guides his boyfriend’s hand to his rim. 

Tommy is on autopilot - knowing exactly what to do - how much prep Buck needs and where exactly that sweet spot inside of him is. Through the familiar moans and whines and thrusting of his hips, Tommy knows when Buck is ready for him. He takes his fingers out and guides Buck down onto his cock. They groan in ecstasy at the same time. The weed has settled around them like a blanket; making everything warm and hazy. When Buck is fully seated on Tommy he takes a moment to catch his breath and just enjoy the feeling of being filled up. 

They take it achingly slow, because this is about being connected and feeling each other and not about the finish line. Buck takes stock of all the muscle groups he’s using; his quads moving his body up and down Tommy’s cock, his biceps and triceps tightening when he carefully lowers himself down as he’s balancing on Tommy’s shoulders, and his abs contracting with each breath. His body forgetting about the pain and replacing it with pleasure. 

Usually it’s Buck that babbles incoherently during sex, but the weed flips that. It’s Tommy who’s spilling out words without really thinking; a string of so good, oh fuck, just like that, god you’re perfect, love you, love you, love you. Buck basks in the praise like sunlight warming his skin. They lock eyes and something in Tommy breaks - he sees his boyfriend’s face completely relaxed and content, save for the times where his eyebrows knit together as his prostate is hit in the perfect spot. He can’t help himself, “God, baby, love you like this - not in pain. Seeing you relaxed and feeling so good is all I want.” Tommy reaches up and cups Buck’s jaw, thumb stroking his cheekbone. He stops moving up and down and just stares misty eyed at his boyfriend. “I wanna take your pain away for good, I’d hold it for you,” Tommy continues. Buck doesn’t register the tears leaking from his eyes, too distracted by the squeeze of his heart.

Buck presses his hand against Tommy’s on his face and turns into it to kiss the heel. Never in his life has he felt cherished like this. No one before was willing to help carry the load so effortlessly, but here’s Tommy right in front of him with stars in his eyes and devotion threading through his words and actions. Buck is a selfless man, has proven that time and time again, but not with Tommy. He’s possessive and a selfish bastard, and wants to keep him for himself forever. He leans in to say, a little desperate in Tommy’s ear, “tell me you’re mine, I need to hear it, baby. I love you so fucking much I don’t know what to do with it sometimes.” 

That request refocuses Tommy, always hanging onto Buck’s every word. “Oh baby, yes, yes. I am ruined for anyone else. God, you don’t even know how gone on you I am. Of course I am yours and you’re mine. Always.” Tommy feels the threat of tears behind his eyes now. It was the combination of the high of the weed and the high of Buck riding his dick while saying these beautiful words. It’s Buck’s turn to wipe the moisture from Tommy’s eyes and kiss him deeply. 

They keep their hands on each other’s faces with their foreheads pressed together and panting into each other’s mouths; exchanging words of love and desire between each other like the shotgunned smoke.  

The weed has eased the stiffness in Buck’s joints and hips, so he uses the free mobility to rotate and roll his hips, grinding on Tommy’s dick with exaggerated movements. That pulls out high pitched needy moans from Tommy and Buck knows he’s close. The rolling creates a delicious angle that hits his prostate on each push and Buck moans straight back down Tommy’s throat. “I’m gonna come, I’m so fucking close,” Buck breathes. 

“Fuck yeah, keep going, I’m gonna- I’m-” Tommy cuts himself off with a choked off moan as he spills inside Buck. As soon as Buck heard that telltale stutter in Tommy’s breath he stopped moving and sat as far back as he could, forcing Tommy’s cock even deeper. The feeling of Tommy pulsing inside him makes the younger man come hard five seconds later untouched between them, splashing both their chests equally. 

Minutes pass as they remain in this position, coming down from the sex high but still feeling light and hazy. They start to laugh together, petting each other’s hair, running their hands across shoulders, back, chest. They share the same thought of ‘this is what happiness is, i found it.” 

Buck eventually straightens up and flops down on the couch next to Tommy, “that is definitely in our top five times we’ve had sex.” 

“High praise,” Tommy chuckles but couldn’t agree more. 

“We definitely have to fuck more when we’re high,” Buck declares. 

“Babe, we already do,” Tommy muses. 

“Oh right.” Another fit of giggles bubbles out of Buck, “hell yeah.” Tommy can’t help but join him. 

Thank you @bibewilderedandbuck <3

[theriddlettesblog]

Home Runner, a Team Fortress 2 fanfiction

Chapter 1

Scout sits in the Teufort base’s resupply room, on one of the benches, thinking to himself about the choices he’s made that led up to where he is now.

“Hey, Scout,” Engie begins, walking up to the resting Jeremy who is now looking up at the genius and no longer at his shoes. “Yer soda’s in the fridge if ya need any.” He says gesturing over to the minifridge.

A week prior, Dell had noticed that Scout was out of Bonk again and added it to the shopping list. Demo picked up a case of the carbonated punch, albeit small, when he went to the store. The Scottsman only bought six cans of the soft drink because he wanted to use the majority of his strength and paycheck to bring back the most alcohol he could. The rest of his purchase consisted of three crates of beer for him and Dell to share, three bottles of whiskey for himself, and one bottle of vodka for Heavy which the Russian man drinks much to Medic’s protest with the giant’s health in mind. If Tavish had more arms, he would have gotten more booze, not pop.

“Thanks, Engie.” Scout replies to the builder.

“No problem. Round’s ‘bout to start, so git caffeinated and ready to cap the intel.” The mechanist tells Jeremy, grabbing his wrench and shotgun then leaving the safety of the base.

Jeremy breathes a big sigh then proceeds to gear up, grabbing his favorite hat-headphones combo, scattergun, and swiftly downs one of the half-a-dozen cans of Bonk in the fridge before walking out of the room. Stepping out of the resupply, he straightens the collar of his polo and adjusts his untinted Value of Teamwork prescription Graybanns. The man goes on to cock his scattergun, ejecting an empty shell out of the chamber all while closely observing its descent to the floor. Through his specs, Scout’s gaze is locked on the shell resting on the ground.

“Empty.” The young man says to himself, still staring. A loud gunshot followed by an explosion breaks him out of his trance and he walks onto the ledge Mick often uses as a sniper’s nest. As one would guess, the New Zealand native is indeed there, scoped in and carefully searching for a head to liquidate.

“Joinin’ the fight now, Scout? ‘Bout time, we need a fast recovery, heh heh.” Sniper says, taking a moment to unscope to ask and chuckle at his own jab.

“You got it, Mick.” Scout responds, unenthusiastically and without looking at the other assassin. The runner jumps down off the ledge, trying his best to keep his balance after landing. Before he gets a chance to look up at the other side of Teufort, his Bottle Cap’s headset starts buzzing.

“Scout?” Pauling asks, gaining the speedster’s attention, “Before you say anything, or if you are saying anything, stop, I’ve got a contract for you.”

“Sure.” Jeremy answers, without any shock from the fact that this is the first time Miss Pauling has said anything to him in months.

A moment of silence goes by before Pauling breaks it. “Are you not going to say anything else?” the woman asks, confused that Scout is not shamelessly embarrassing himself nor reciting a used pick up line that won’t work on her, or anyone, for that matter.

“No?” Jeremy asks back, not understanding her confusion with his lack of idiocy.

“Oh, okay, uh, I just need you to kill a few Pyros and you’ll get a new weapon skin, well, new to you, not actually new, Minimal Wear at best.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Scout quickly replies before hanging up without another word between them. He sighs again and jumps into the water between the two bases, heading into the BLU team’s sewers.

As he makes his way through the water, he begins thinking to himself again, about something that’s been tugging at the back of his mind for the past few weeks. For those past few weeks, Scout hasn’t been able to shake an odd feeling, a feeling that was unusual and unfamiliar to him. It was a feeling that bogged down his cockiness and made him more tame as well as fade into the background. It prevented him from being the loud showy kid from Boston, but rather, made him quiet which everyone on his team noticed, but no one batted any eyes toward. Not even Jeremy himself noticed he was acting a little out of the ordinary, he just went about flanking every Soldier and Heavy that was unfortunate enough to not notice the skinny guy with the shotgun coming up behind them.

Why he’s been feeling this way for this long was unknown to him, usually, it takes three cans of the atomic punch to lift his spirits and he’s right back to being the most annoying shotgunner on the field. But for some reason, no matter how much pop he chugs, he can’t get out of this fog. Jeremy almost has half a mind to ask Medic about his atypical string of emotions, but he rationalizes the thought by realizing that the mad Doktor will either write it off as nothing or perform some kind of procedure that wouldn’t change anything except his number of exotic hamster kidneys. Scout is brought back to reality when he hears the Administrator exclaim that his team’s intelligence has been taken.

“Scout!” Engie calls out to Jeremy on his headset. “A Spy’s taken the intel! He’s goin’ through the sewers! Meet ‘im halfway and blast ‘im to hell!”

“On it.” Scout replies, once again, unenthused while rolling his eyes. He heads out the few feet he made it into the BLU base and swims across to the sewers of his own. He stands guard at the entrance out of the sewer system, waiting for someone, RED or BLU to enter his sight. Several moments pass by with absolutely nothing coming into his view.

“Crap, he’s probably invisible.” Scout says to himself, trying to listen for sloshes in the water. Several more moments pass by without a single break in the silence.

Scout gets tired of waiting so he presses the button on his headset, “Engie? Did that Spy leave the base?”

“Not with the intel, he dropped it and vanished. But we got theirs.” As soon as the Texan finishes that proud statement, The Administrator’s voice comes over the intercom and congratulates the REDs for capturing BLU’s intel.

“Come on back,” Dell begins again, “we got three cases ‘a beer so one fer everyone who’s not an alcoholic bomb maker.”

“Sweet.” Scout breathes out without cracking a smile, keeping the same face as when he first called. Before moving his feet, Jeremy lets his arms fall to his sides and then slowly makes his way into the main part of his team’s base.

When Scout re-enters the resupply room, he sees all of his teammates celebrating with beers in hand, save for Tavish, he has three in each. Before anyone could realize Jeremy was there, he grabs the tiny case of soda out of the fridge and heads home for the night.

Home, for Scout, is a small rundown apartment complex just outside of downtown Teufort which he would be more than overjoyed to move out of and find a nicer place, but seeing how the Administrator docs and suspends his pay for mouthing off to her, what he does make barely covers the costs of his ammunition. The building is curated by an elderly blind man named Talor who rocks a tricked out wheelchair, is shockingly modest, but most importantly, is kind to Scout. Jeremy is Talor’s only tenant but he keeps the power and water running for him as the speedster has nowhere else to go. Scout makes a silent entrance into his room, trying his best to not let anyone know he returned home; though Talor is very warmhearted, Scout doesn’t need anything to further complicate his day.

The light-footed sprinter tosses his cap and glasses onto his dinner (coffee) table before finishing off the last five cans of Bonk he took from work. He throws off his shoes, pants, and shirt and nearly collapses into the pullout couch he uses as a bed. After three hours of dreamless sleep, buzzing comes from his resting headset. This awakens Scout and in a half-asleep daze, gets up and brings the single headphone to his ear after laying back down on the throw pillow he uses as a regular one.

“Yeah?” Scout asks, mildly annoyed, but too tired to care, that someone is calling him in the dead of night.

“Scout? It’s Pauling.” the purple-shirted secretary answers the speedster.

“Miss Pauling? Look, it’s late, I gotta be up at six tomorrow, I don’t got time for another contract.” Scout tells her with only one eye open, locked on one of his many mold-ridden walls.

“No. Scout, this isn’t about a contract, though, you didn’t complete my last one so either way it wouldn’t be. Uh, anyway, I was just calling to ask why you left work early. You usually never pass up an opportunity to show off your weird dance moves.” Pauling inquires, trying to piece together the answer to this mystery.

“I just wasn’t feelin’ it today.” Scout answers, scratching his head which is still laying on his pillow.

“Engie says you haven’t been feeling it at all.” Jeremy’s half-shut gaze squints even further. The young woman continues, “I’m just a little concerned is all. I know we haven’t been talking a lot lately, and people’s lives tend to move on whether or not they keep in touch.” Pauling says, trying not to let her voice crack under the weight of her words. Jeremy sits up in his cot, looking down at his half-blanketed body.

Without anything else to say, he simply replies, “I’m still doin’ okay. Thanks for the call, Miss Pauling, goodnight.” and with that, Jeremy hangs up, allowing the mountain of guilt resting on his back to force a breath out of his lungs. He then slips back into sleep.

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Masterlist

[roosterbruiser]

𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 — 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

—𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐓. 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐔𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐒. 𝐌𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘𝐑. —𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 𝟒.𝟕𝐊 —𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 —𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐒, 𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟎𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

“I’ve been thinking about something,” Fanboy starts, picking at his hotdog. 

Payback pretends to be exasperated, rolling his eyes. But Fanboy knows he has his undivided attention. 

“Thinking about Mable being a martyr?” Payback whispers, raising a brow at Mable as she furiously destroys her lunch with her plastic fork and knife. “‘Cause me too.”

They’re sitting at their usual lunch table, all the children chattering and stuffing handfuls of salty chips in their mouths. Dotted all along the lunch room, the rest of the counselors are quietly chatting or tying shoes or opening juice boxes. A peculiar sense of alarm has settled over everyone--which is largely due to the fact that Mable Brandt won’t touch her food, keeps clutching pages of her destroyed bible, and keeps removing her bandage to stare at the cut on her arm. 

“Nah,” Fanboy says softly, glancing at Mable. Her hotdog is in little chunks before her and she’s just staring down at her plate now. “Maybe someone else oughta learn how to use the shotgun.” 

Payback makes a face--screwing his face up in discontent. 

“Why? Seresin’s our best shot.” 

Fanboy isn’t sure how to articulate it to Payback. If he had no filter, if he was totally honest, he’d just say that he was scared. Scared that someone came to camp last night and attacked Mable, scared that Mable maybe did it to herself. He’s scared, most of all, that it was someone in this lunch room. Whether it was a camper or a counselor or Paul or--fuck, he doesn’t know. And he’s scared because he doesn’t know. 

Payback’s chewing slows as he watches his best friend stare down at the wooden table before him. He can see it clear as day: Fanboy’s worried. Scared, even. 

“Yeah, that actually probably would be better, wouldn’t it?” Payback says softly. “You know, in case Seresin loses his marbles.” 

“Or gets hacked.” 

Fanboy and Payback chuckle.

“He will,” Mable pipes up softly. 

Payback whirls around to face her. She won’t look up from her plate.

“Didn’t quite catch that, kiddo,” Payback says slowly. “What’d you say?” 

“Mister Jake. He’s going to get hacked.” 

Luckily, she isn’t speaking loud enough to get the attention of any of the other campers. But she is all Fanboy and Payback can see right now. 

“What do you mean?” Fanboy asks softly. If he wore a cross necklace, he’d sure be clutching it right now. “Like, hacked?”

“He’s going to be cut up with an ax,” Mable says softly. “That’s what they said to me.”

A stone sinks in Fanboy’s belly. He swallows hard, glances at Payback--who is staring down at Mable perplexed. 

“Who?”

Mable just glances down at her bandages. Blood is beginning to seep through them.She presses the pad of her thumb down over the blood, ignores the burn, and focuses on the warmth that grows there. 

“I got in its way,” Mable explains. She’s been thinking about this all night. She’s a smart girl--beyond her years, so mature for her age. She’s smart enough to look back on what happened and deduce a few points. “It was looking for Mister Jake.”

“How do you know that?” Fanboy asks, leaning in closer. 

Payback sighs quietly. 

“Don’t egg her on, man,” he insists. 

Fanboy silences him with an open palm. 

“It was going to his cabin. Only, I got in its way.” 

“Well, it wouldn’t have found him there, anyway,” Payback says, crossing his arms. 

He just isn’t sure how well he believes this tale. And he’s annoyed that Fanboy is so interested in it, leaning forward with a glassy look in his eyes like what Mable says is gospel. 

This is how people get indoctrinated in cults, Payback thinks.

“I know,” Mable whispers. “He was with Nurse Nightingale.” 

Fanboy looks at Payback, reeling. 

Payback isn’t amused. 

“Well, whoever it was--they didn’t hack you up. So, what makes you think they wanted to do that to Mister Jake?” 

The tips of Fanboy’s fingers are numb with fear. Even basked in the warm sunshine, even among all these campers and counselors, even with his favorite lunch before him--he’s scared. He almost doesn't want to know her answer.

“It--it…well, I just know, okay? Don’t you believe me?” 

Finally, Mable looks up. And it’s when Payback sees that fat tears have settled in her eyes. She grips the wooden table and shakes her head softly at Payback. 

“I know what the Devil looks like. I saw it last night. It wanted my blood!”

Other campers have turned towards Mable now. Her cheeks are red and her eyes are wet and she’s beginning to shiver in her spot, not breaking her gaze away from Payback. And as if in a trance, Payback can’t break his gaze from her. 

“It wanted my blood!” She cries again, louder now. So loud that she’s gotten the attention of the other tables around her. “It stunk of sulfur and it hated me for loving God! It tore my Bible and tried to shake my faith, but it cannot!” Mable stands now, pointing a finger at Payback with her eyes wide. “It wanted my blood and it wants more! It will feast on everyone here! We will bathe in our own blood and be torn limb by limb as the depths of Hell calls for us! There is no way out! There is no way out!” 

Frozen in terror, you watch from your spot beside Bradley. Not even the heat of his body can bring you back into your body as you watch Mable come undone, spit flinging from her chapped lips as she screams at Payback. 

Everyone is silent besides her, campers reaching for each other’s hands beneath the table, counselors lips parted in shock.

“Mable, that’s enough,” Payback insists. “Sit down and finish your hotdog.” 

With that, Mable grabs her tin plate and chucks it across the room. It clatters against the wooden wall and sends the hotdog straight to the floor in a puddle of ketchup. 

“Mable,” Fanboy says, voice quivering. “Calm down, kid.” 

“There will be no calm when the Devil comes for us all! He is among us! He’s here! He’s in this room! I can feel his spirit, I can smell his stench!” 

That’s when Coyote and Hangman step in. 

Each of them takes one of her arms, pulling her away from the table. 

“Calm down, honey,” Hangman soothes, brow furrowed. “Let’s get some air.” 

Mable, who’s letting her heels scrape against the floor as the entire canteen population watches her get dragged out, looks up at him with a most sorrowful gaze. 

“You’re not going to make it to the end of summer, Mister Jake. Is your soul saved?”

Coyote scoffs loudly, slamming the doors open. 

“I’ve had about enough of that doom and gloom talk,” Coyote says seriously. “Cut it out now.” 

“Accept Christ in your heart and I can baptize you, Mister Jake,” Mable continues, wriggling out of Coyote’s grip, squinting up at the sun, and cupping Hangman’s cheek before he can stop her. “Your soul is not doomed yet.” 

“Mable Brandt,” Coyote chastizes. “You just--you know what? You’re gonna sit in the cabin for the rest of the day. Think real hard about this Bible-thumping thing you’re so keen on. Christ, kid.”

Hangman removes her sticky hand from his cheek. And then they start across the courtyard to her cabin, not responding when Mable begins begging for release from this evil place. 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t exactly describe anywhere in Maine as evil,” Hangman huffs to Coyote. “Ain’t that reserved for the West?” 

Once they’ve settled Mable in her cabin and stepped back out into the heat, the severity of her words sink into Hangman. He’s a logical man from a God-fearing family. He knows that the Devil must be real in some capacity--how else would anyone explain Charles Manson or Ted Bundy? But the thought of the Devil being here, at Camp Arcadia, and wanting him? That can’t be real--surely not. 

“She’s full of it, man,” Coyote says softly, clapping a hand on Jake’s sweaty shoulder. “Don’t worry about her. I’m pretty sure she cut herself.” 

Jake shrugs. 

“No skin off my back. Literally.”

 Fanboy and Payback are waiting for them when they return to the canteen. Both of them, even Payback, are standing with their jaws clenched and their lashes fluttering. 

“You need to teach someone else how to shoot,” Fanboy says seriously, squinting up at Jake. “Just in case.” 

Hangman starts to scoff, but then Payback makes a sound of agreement. 

“Oh, God--not you two too? Mable’s sitting in first class on the crazy train,” Coyote says. 

He waits for some sort of reaction--the men to admit that they’re being paranoid, the men to laugh it off. But Payback and Fanboy just stare at them. 

“Someone else needs to be a good shot,” Payback says. 

“Someone at least needs to know how to shoot it.” 

The small smile that is gracing Hangman’s face is slowly beginning to fade. 

He can see it--the fear. And it makes his belly turn sour. 

“Okay,” Hangman simply agrees. “Who?” 

It’s the second time this week you’ve pulled the short stick.

“Alright, Butch Cassidy,” you mutter to him with the short spaghetti noodle in your grasp. “I’ll be your Sundance Kid.”  

Jake stifles a chuckle and shakes his head seriously. 

“Take this seriously!” Jake demands. “We could be attacked at any time!” 

“By the Devil!” Phoenix says, clutching her chest in mock-terror. 

“Or worse…” Bob starts softly, shaking his head. 

“Ronald Reagan?” You ask, perching a brow. 

You chew on the short noodle as everyone laughs. 

And then a strange quietness settles over all the counselors. All the kiddos have been dismissed to the courtyard to play so the lot of you could draw sticks. And all huddled up here, after Mable’s explosion, there seems to be so much to talk about that no one knows where to begin. 

“I-I know this is gonna sound shitty,” Bob starts finally, his tongue thick with nerves. He pushes his glasses back up his nose and glances at everyone carefully. “But where was everyone last night? Not accusing…I’m just…covering all our bases.” 

“Mable did it to herself,” Coyote insists. “She had to have! None of the knives were missing, we haven’t had any incidents before that. What, she get cut with an ax?” 

“Nope, that was Bradshaw,” you pipe up, bumping Bradley. 

Rooster nods, holding out his bandaged hand. 

“Okay, well, if Mable did it to herself--how? With what weapon?” Fanboy asks, voice hushed but urgent. 

“A loose nail? Her teeth?” Payback suggests. 

“Cut was too precise for that,” you sigh, pushing your hair out of your face. “It was something sharp.” 

Phoenix hums to herself for a moment, fanning her warm face. 

“What about a seashell?” 

You glance at her--she’s already looking at you. 

“Like, a broken up seashell?” You ask. Huh. You hadn’t considered that. But there are shells that dot the shore of the lake--you’re sure Mable could figure out how to break one. “I mean--yeah, that’s a possibility. Maybe a stone, too.” 

“Now we’re cooking with oil,” Bradley sighs, wiping his brow. “Okay, but why?” 

Before anyone can hypothesize, Bob pipes up again. 

“And why the fixation with Jake?” 

Jake’s throat goes dry. He doesn’t let it show on his tanned face; his mustache is still bushy, his hip is still jutted, his shorts are still short. 

“Who could resist, man?” Coyote answers for him, nudging Jake. “Half the camp is probably crushing on him!” 

“There’s a difference between a crush and whatever the fuck we just saw,” Phoenix says, frowning. “That wasn’t normal.” 

Payback shrugs. 

“In all fairness, Mable isn’t normal.” 

No one disagrees. 

With everyone standing here with their ringer shirts and short-shorts and sweaty faces and squinted eyes and slight smiles, it’s peculiar that anything bad could ever happen here. It’s peculiar, most of all, that you’re even having to discuss the Devil. 

“Well, either way, we all know where Mister Jake was last night. With his Number One Camp Crush.” 

Your heart sinks into your belly when Fanboy nudges you playfully. 

Oh, fuck. 

Now is about the time you wish the world would open up and swallow you whole. 

Bradley’s brows are furrowed. 

Jake, biting a cocky grin, rolls his eyes. 

“Oh, buzz off,” he insists, crossing his arms over his chest. “Mind your potatoes!”

“Oh, so that’s where you were last night?” Coyote asks with a grin, nudging Jake. “My man!”

“She had a nightmare,” Jake insists, truly trying to save face. 

You groan, shaking your head. 

“Alright, I’m gonna head out before we get too regressive here,” you sigh, hands on your hips. “Gimme a ring when you wanna step back into the twentieth century, alright?”

Spinning on your heel, you start to walk back to the Nurse’s Cabin before anyone can see how flustered you are. And you certainly don’t want Bradley to see that--nor do you want to see his face when he figures out. 

“You’re all idiots,” Phoenix sighs. “Bob, let’s skitty.” 

But, true to Bradshaw fashion, you’re only in the confines of the cabin for less than a minute before Bradley is standing in the doorway. 

Jake decides to watch from the courtyard, resisting the urge to rub it in Bradshaw’s face. He knows you can fight your own battles. 

“Really?” He asks softly. 

There’s a fire lit in his belly now. And, God--it isn’t even that you were messing around with someone. It’s that it’s Jake. Jake fucking Seresin. That fucking goofball? 

“What?” You ask, making yourself busy with organizing the countertop. 

“Him?” 

You’re hot all over. 

“I’m not in the mood for this right now,” you tell Bradley, shaking your head and chewing on your lower lip. “Not after the night I’ve had.” 

Bradley is watching you with a hardened gaze. 

“Yeah, I’m sure you did have a night, huh?” 

That stops you dead in your tracks. Gripping the counter, you turn on your heel and stare at him. He’s staring right back at you, looking tall and broad and fucking pissed. 

“Did we get married last summer and I magically forgot about it? ‘Cause last time I checked, you and I aren’t an item. I check single on all my paperwork.” 

Wounded, Bradley steps into the cabin and shakes his head at you. 

“Don’t dumb it down to that.” 

The tired in your bones is beginning to vibrate. You hold your face for a moment, wipe the sweat from your skin, and shake your head at him.

“You flirt with me for three months out of the year. Then we go our separate ways. That’s kinda what we do.” 

His heart is hammering. 

“Oh, come on. You can’t tell me we aren’t a little bit more than that!” 

“Are we?” You challenge, shrugging.

His lip twitches. 

“Yeah, we are.” 

Throwing your hands up in the air, an exasperated laugh tumbles from your lips. 

“News to me, buddy!” 

A lull falls over the two of you. Distantly, other counselors are starting to gather the axes and talk about breaking into shifts. Kids are playing. Birds are singing. The lake is rippling. The radio in the corner is playing Tainted Love by Soft Cell. 

“News to you, huh?” He asks, his voice lower and softer now. Just barely, you nod. Your thighs are beginning to quiver. “It’s not news to me.” 

And, really, what he means is that he’s crazy about you. He may only see you for three months of the year, but he thinks about you for twelve months of the year. He can smell jasmine year-round when he thinks of burying his nose in your hair. You’re like a private garden, one that sits between his skull and the soft and pink parts of his brain. You’re with him. It’s as simple as that. You’re with him. 

“We didn’t have sex,” you say, face burning. You’re not even sure why you’re saying it other than it just feels like the right thing to say. “Not that it’s any of your business.” 

But isn’t it? 

“You’re together now?” He asks. 

You shake your head quickly. 

“No.” 

He nods. It’s quiet again. 

“Good,” he sighs. “Summer ain’t over yet.”  

♀

All you can smell right now is the lake. The musty scent of moss and the distant stench of fish coat your nostrils so thickly that you want to step away from the water, backtrack up the rocks and find your place further inland beside Phoenix and Bob--who are manning a game of Freeze Tag.

Further up the courtyard, the campers who aren’t running around are all lazing around. The other counselors are still taking shifts chopping the tree so there’s been plenty of camp-wide games today. No campers have particularly wanted to do a whole lot today--not with Mable telling everyone that the Devil came to Camp Arcadia last night and cut her good. 

“It wanted my blood,” she’s been telling everyone, pointing to her bandages.

No one is quite sure what to believe. 

Right now, though--you don’t want to think about it. You just want to think about standing here on the shore of the lake, where you’re unable to move. 

You can’t because Jake is standing just behind you, his body molded to yours. With his chin atop your head and his arms wrapped around your own, you’re solid as concrete right here with the waves racing up the rocks to lap at the rubber toes of your jellies. 

“And then you just cock it, alright?”

He cocks it himself, using your curled fingers as mere vessels. It’s hard and heavy in your hands, even if Jake’s holding most of the weight. Metal settles beneath your tongue.  

Huffing, you shake your head. The sun beating down on you is like three thousand heat lamps. It’s making you feel muggy, your head thick with cotton and your mouth chalky from not having eaten anything since that muffin this morning. And to make matters worse, Jake won’t take the gun out of your hands so you can tie your hair up.

“I really wish you’d stop using that word.” 

Jake grins--beams, really. He knows you’re grumpy this morning. After the interruption, you both knew you wouldn’t be able to swing sleeping in the same cabin. No one slept very well at all--who could when one of the campers was sliced and diced? And even without all of that commotion, he knows that you had it worse because of the nightmare. He thought about you being alone in your cabin all night long, blinking up at the water stained ceiling in his own cabin. 

And despite your less-than-stellar mood, he’s fallen comfortably back into his role of elementary-aged boy with a crush on y-o-u.

“Fine--jerk it.” 

Teeth sinking into your lower lip, an aggravated sigh floods your lips. It settles comfortably in the muggy air staining your skin and rings through Jake's ears sweetly, like the song of the cicadas. When he’s sure no one is looking, he presses a lewd and hasty kiss to the crown of your head, which makes the sun feel blistering. 

You’re fairly certain you’re about to be reduced to a sugary, sweat-spiked puddle not unlike those left behind by Rooster’s chicks when they have Popsicle Hour.

“I don’t even wanna do this,” you insist, irritation chewing your tone. “I don’t even think I believe in guns.” 

Jake scoffs. 

“Everyone believes in guns.”

Any attempt to keep the peace with Jake is squashed beneath the thick heel of your scoff. 

“Why, Toto! I don’t think we’re in Texas anymore!” 

You click your heels three times--Jake pinches your hip, but finds himself pleased and adoring as ever. Sure, you’re acting like this now. But you’re letting him hold you--Hell, you’re holding a gun to mostly appease him. Or, that’s what he chooses to believe. 

And you certainly weren’t acting like this last night. That knowledge seems to be keeping Jake afloat while battling your never-ending exasperation and general distaste for companionship today.

“Keep your heels planted,” he instructs, a bead of sweat dripping down his face and into your hair. You don’t seem to notice, thank God. When you begin to grumble, Jake squeezes the curve of your waist. “You ever have to shoot someone, you’re gonna be glad you had your old pal Jake to show you how to not get knocked onto your ass from the recoil.” 

“Do you even know how brawny I am, birdbrain? I can hoist up anyone and their mama off a gurney!” You argue. 

Nonetheless, you plant your heels into the ground and straighten your spine.

Jake knows it’s fruitless to argue with you. The only way you’ll let up is if he lets you pull the trigger for yourself--although the thought of you soaring through the air and landing flat on your back makes Jake stiffen with discomfort.

“Baby, darlin’, sweetheart, honey…” Jake starts, sighing. His breath fans across your sticky cheek and you swallow thickly, blinking rapidly when a bead of sweat lands on your lashes. “Chill, huh? Let’s walk through it again.”

So you do walk through it again. Jake strokes the parts of your body that require changing: knees slightly bent, feet planted firmly shoulder-width apart, left jelly-clad foot a bit ahead of the other, chest pushed in every-so-slightly to mirror that foot. 

“I feel like an idiot,” you grumble, wrinkling your nose. 

“Baby, you’ve never looked better.”

“Guns really get your engine revving?” 

Jake laughs. 

“Alright, space cadet. Go ahead and flick that safety off.”

“Oh, get lost,” you mutter to him. 

You switch the safety off anyway. 

Slowly, Jake releases your body so you’re standing on your lonesome with the gun. It’s much heavier without him taking the brunt of the weight--so heavy that you’d have stumbled if you weren’t annoyingly balanced in this stance. 

Jake watches you from a safe distance, his shorts digging into the meat of his thighs as he stands with them flexed. You look good holding a shotgun--the wood smooth in your dexterous hands, the metal dark gleaming in the sunlight, your lip bitten and your eyes lasered in on the target across the lake. 

You can do this--he knows it and so do you. 

“Okay,” Jake says, eyebrows furrowed as the heat of summer pours over your two forms. “You got it, baby. Just breathe in, find that trigger, and exhale when you squeeze. It’s real easy. Promise.” 

“Promise,” you mock. Jake doesn’t so much as flinch. “And what’re you gonna do for me when I get a bullseye, huh?” 

He opens his mouth to say something less-than camp appropriate despite your mood. He figures he can get away with it, too, since you’re a bit preoccupied with the shotgun. Jake doesn’t see Bradley approaching, ringing his hands together as his blisters settle into the soft flesh there. But Bradley’s seen most of what’s happened between the two of you--which is why he’s honing in on interrupting.

“Well, I could--!”  

“--I’m sure he can think of something,” Bradley interrupts, hands on his hips as he falls in place beside Jake. Both of the men stiffen--Bradley smells like oak and moss, having taken a double of tree-cutting time just to get away from all the hullabaloo at camp. “Like, say--an extra muffin. Or filling in for me at the tree so we can get some alone time.”

When you hear his voice, your spine prickles. Your body is aflame and all you can do is chew your lip and stare straight ahead. You suppose, in some strange and cosmic way, you’re always prepared for Bradley to show up and make your heart race.  

“You know she has a gun, cassanova,” Jake says with a sneer. “We really shouldn’t be pissing her off.” 

Rooster scoffs.

“I couldn’t piss Gale off if I tried,” Rooster insists rather smugly, wiping his blistered hands on his bare thighs before snatching your canteen off the dirt floor and taking a long swig. “Ain’t that right, honey?” 

“The good thing about shotguns is that they have two bullets,” you say.

Atta girl, Jake thinks. He doesn’t mind that you’re threatening to shoot him, too.  

 “She was just about to shoot,” Jake says to Bradley, jerking his chin to the spot beside him. “Step back or else.”

“Oh, real freaky-deaky, man,” Rooster taunts, rolling his eyes and wiping his wet lips with the back of his sweaty hand. “I think I know how to--!” 

He’s rudely interrupted by the blast. It’s the loudest thing anyone has ever heard at Camp Arcadia--it reverberates off the rippling lakewater, sears through the muggy air, slices a few mosquitos on its way, then embeds itself in the spray-painted hay. 

Jake can’t believe it. He can tell from here beside you, cupping his gaze and staring across the lake. 

Bullseye. 

There’s certainly going to be a bruise on your shoulder now--but you didn’t fall flat on your ass like you thought you would. You’re counting it as a win, not even bothering to see where your bullet punctured as you slowly take your finger off the trigger and engage safety again. 

“Holy shit!” Jake exclaims. And before you really know what’s happening, he’s pushing the gun out of your hands and putting it in Rooster’s hands as he scowls at the ringing in his ears, wrapping you up in his arms with a joyous grin. “Bullseye, bullseye, bullseye!” 

“What--really?” You ask, scrambling to hold onto him as he spins you in a circle. 

His scent permeates you--drowns you. All that familiar sweat, soap, dirt. It makes you think about last night when his face was in your throat and his hand was between your legs. God--it makes you want him. And you still have gunpowder on your hands.    

“You’re acting surprised,” Bradley points out, still grimacing as his ears vibrate. “Like you didn’t know she’d get one.” 

“Get lost, Bradshaw! Don’t shit on my picnic!” 

But then you catch Rooster’s gaze as it settles on you in Jake’s arms. His eyes are half-shut beneath the sun, swimming with a strange sort of grief. So, you wriggle out of Jake’s grip, firmly plant your feet on the shore, then salute both of them. 

You’re thinking about it now, Bradley’s words earlier. 

It’s not news to me.

And who are you to torture him?

“See you at dinner,” you tell them both cordially. You’re fairly certain they’ll be able to hear your heart beating out of your throat. “Don’t kill each other, huh?” 

Bradley and Jake glance at each other. Jake thinks about last night--so does Bradley. Jake’s version of events are more detailed than Bradley will ever know and that fills him with a certain pride. 

“No promises,” Bradley murmurs.

♀

It’s a peculiar feeling. Not unfamiliar, but not something you’ll ever get used to. Every single bit of your body, every little nerve and hair and scar and mole and freckle can feel it. 

You’re being watched.

Except it isn’t the middle of the night and you aren’t alone in your cabin. You’re standing in the Nurse’s Cabin, folding up some linens, singing along to Danger Zone by Kenny Loggins. 

The feeling floods you like a blush. One moment, you’re just listening to the distant sound of axes and kiddos hollering, and the next you’re paralyzed with fear and every hair on your body is stick straight and standing tall. 

It’s silly, you tell yourself when your heart starts to pound. It’s silly. It’s silly. 

Surely, really, actually it isn’t really here watching you. It’s a creature from a nightmare. It’s a figment of your imagination. It’s the middle of the day. Anyone else would be able to see it.  

With every fiber in your being, though, you know that it’s standing at the door watching you. 

There will be no calm when the Devil comes for us all! He is among us! He’s here! He’s in this room! I can feel his spirit, I can smell his stench! 

 A fat raindrop of fear races down the column of your spine as you stare straight ahead at the wall before you. When the stench of sulfur tickles your upper lip, you’re almost certain you’re imagining it. And when you feel it take a step into the cabin, that minuscule vibration and tiny crying of the wood, you’re almost certain you’re not imagining it. 

If you could speak, you’d pray. 

Another step. 

You’re too afraid to turn around. 

“I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: MABLE TERRIFIES ME.....

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

[mj-iza-writer]

Old leaves and twigs broke under Whumper's feet as they ran barefoot through the woods. He had no idea where he was running too, but anywhere was good as long he didn't catch them.

"Whumper you're just making this harder on yourself", Whumper heard through the trees. They sounded uncomfortably close.

Whumper stopped to get his barings, "that fucken caretaker, how was I even found. Whumpee wouldn't have known where this place was."

Whumper took off again, trying to change directions. He couldn't let Whumpee's caretaker find him. There's no telling what he'd do, especially out here with no witnesses.

Whumper accidentally rolled his ankle with a large stick that slid through the wet leaves. He slid along with it and fell into the muck of leaves.

"Shit", Whumper groaned.

"I heard that", Caretaker yelled, "that means I'm close to you.

The sound of a shotgun being pumped gave Whumper a boost of adrenaline.

"I can't run like this", Whumper tried to stand, but definitely had a bad sprain.

Whumper looked into the trees and found one that he could climb.

Once situated on the limb, he tried to catch his breath. He was sore all over. Caretaker had snuck onto the private property and knocked at his door. Whumper didn't even have a second before the door was kicked in. He dodged Caretaker and ran.

The sound of someone approaching sent chills down Whumper's back.

Caretaker examined the skid mark, "wow you must have gotten pretty hurt here, I bet you twisted maybe even sprained an ankle", Caretaker laughed, "definitely no way you kept running on that."

Whumper held onto the trunk of the tree, he was shaking uncontrollably.

Caretaker leaned against a different tree, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. "I know you're close. I can wait as long as you need me too. I am very patient."

Whumper rolled his eyes, 'great', was his only thought.

He heard Caretaker laugh again.

"I had hoped to catch you off guard, I don't even think you had shoes on when you ran. Your feet are probably killing you from the forest floor", Caretaker blew out some smoke, "we can wait all night if you want, I'm dressed to be out here. I know you are going to have a rough time though."

Whumper looked down at his feet, sure enough they were a bloody mess. He groaned silently when he moved his ankle slightly.

"I want you to pay attention to the fear you feel right now. Knowing that I have the upper hand, and you are at my mercy. This is how you made Whumpee feel all day, every day", Caretaker continued, "you've done some twisted things to them, but don't worry, they are in good hands now."

Whumper looked down at Caretaker. This man was absolutely terrifying. It shook Whumper even more thinking about what Caretaker had planned.

"I know you're up in that tree", Caretaker stated ominously not even looking up.

Whumper's whole body jolted at the thought. Caretaker was aware of them being up there this whole time.

"Do I need to shoot you down, or are you going to get down here willingly and pay for what you've done to Whumpee?", Caretaker dropped the remaining part of the cigarette and stepped on it, "you get a minute before I start shooting, keep in mind I won't miss."

Whumper sighed.

"I can't get down. It was hard enough to get up here", Whumper called down.

Caretaker looked up, "and do you think I care?"

Whumper sighed, then moaned and groaned all the way down the tree.

Once low enough Caretaker yanked him off the tree and threw him to ground.

Whumper lay face down into the dirt. He didn't want to look up.

Caretaker circled, "you know Whumpee is an open book. They were so desperate for love and attention, once they got it, a wealth of knowledge. Get up and kneel."

Whumper groaned as they got up, kneeling made their ankle throb.

"Do I, do I have to kneel? My ankle..."

"You made Whumpee do stuff when they were in pain", Caretaker interrupted, "you didn't care, so why should I?"

Whumper looked down.

"I'm not sure what I want to do with you yet. I can't do something overly illegal, or I risk being taken from Whumpee's care team. I don't trust the justice system though, they won't give Whumpee closure. I think you deserve worse than jail honestly."

Whumper listened.

"Whumpee says to let you go, but I don't trust you. You'll probably go find someone else to hurt or come back for Whumpee. I'm not chancing it", Caretaker frowned.

"You'll never see or hear from me again I promise", Whumper pleaded, "just let me go."

Caretaker circled Whumper, "nice try but Whumpee wouldn't be completely free knowing you were out there, and what if you do strike again. I could be allowing you to go screw with another person's life."

Whumper begged, "no, please, I'm done I swear."

"Get up", Caretaker commanded.

Whumper stood as quickly as they could.

"What was that one thing you did to Whumpee, oh I remember", Caretaker smirked, "let's go back to your house and replicate it."

"Uh no please, just kill me if you must", Whumper fell back down to the ground, "I don't know what you are implying, but I don't want it."

"I'm sure Whumpee didn't want to do it either", Caretaker replied sharply, and pulled them back up, "I can't just kill you, they'd trace it back to me, I can cause an accident though."

"What?", Whumper stumbled as Caretaker shoved them.

"How many situations do you have coursing through your mind right now, hmm?", Caretaker pushed Whumper through the woods, "what exactly do you think I could do to you?"

"I don't want to find out", Whumper replied.

They finally made it back to Whumper's property.

"Let's go inside", Caretaker pushed them forward with his gun.

"I'm serious, can we not do this", Whumper turned toward Caretaker.

"How many times did Whumpee ask you for mercy. After they were found, you went into hiding. You hurt someone, and you don't want to deal with the repercussions", Caretaker frowned.

"I'm sorry, I'll do anything, just please don't do what you are planning", Whumper pleaded.

"Okay, you come back with us, confess to the court, and take whatever they give you. I'm sure you'll receive more mercy from them, then from me", Caretaker frowned, "unfortunately."

"Did you say us?", Whumper questioned.

A police siren sounded making Whumper jump.

"You tricked me", Whumper looked wide eyed at Caretaker, "you did all of this... and for what?"

"Satisfaction. Trust me, if I could have killed you, I would have, but like I said, I don't want to be taken from Whumpee's care team", Caretaker sighed and cleared the gun before handing it to the police, "I received permission to do this so you would confess, and give me some satisfaction. Plus, I was recording so Whumpee could watch you piss yourself", Caretaker grinned, "give them some justice."

Whumper's hands were pulled behind them, and cuffs were clicked tightly around their wrist.

Caretaker pulled out a cigarette box and lighter, and watched as Whumper was arrested.

A police officer stepped up beside them, "how hard was it to not pull the trigger. You had two bullets. I would have had a hard time."

"It was easy, I kept reminding myself that Whumpee was waiting for me. I have other responsibilities to attend to", Caretaker put the cigarette to his lips to light it, "I didn't have time to waste fighting the justice system. The same courts that will let them walk free, would put me in jail. That's why I requested the camera, in case things didn't go my way. Whumpee also begged me not to kill him. I keep my promises."

Caretaker walked into the house a while later, and was met by a curious Whumpee.

"Whumpee you shouldn't be out of bed", Caretaker kicked off his boots and frowned at the trail of my mud, "I thought I got it all off, I guess not."

"H-how did it go?", Whumpee poked their fingers together shyly.

"It went well, they are still alive if that's what you mean", Caretaker smiled, "I scared them, and they confessed. The police were able to arrest them."

Whumpee looked down.

"You seem unhappy", Caretaker knelt down in front of Whumpee, "why?"

"I'm sorry, I am happy, really. Thankyou for everything you've done for me", Whumpee faked a smile.

"But", Caretaker grinned, "you wanted something to happen, you wanted Whumper to have fought back a little, you wanted him to have experienced even a little of what he put you through."

Whumpee looked at Caretaker fearfully, but nodded, "am I bad for that?"

"No Whumpee, you're not", Caretaker ran his thumb across Whumpee's cheek to wipe a tear away, "you went through a lot. It's not wrong to wish that on the person who did it."

Whumpee whimpered as more tears started to fall.

"Aww Whumpee you've been holding in a lot of this, haven't you", Caretaker sighed, "it's okay, how about we go sit down. I do have a video of what happened if you want to watch that. I think it was really funny."

Whumpee nodded.

Caretaker wrapped a blanket around Whumpee and got the video started.

Caretaker smiled as Whumpee giggled at Whumper's begging.

Whumpee wiped some more tears away and looked at Caretaker, "they looked terrified."

"They were very scared", Caretaker nodded, "did that make you feel a little better?"

"A little", Whumpee grinned, "but what's going to happen now?"

"For right now, we have to wait. The lawyers and court will have to deal with it. Whumper didn't look good running away and hiding", Caretaker sighed, "you are under the protection of your care team so no matter what you will never go back to him again."

Whumpee nodded, "can I, can I watch it again?"

"Of course you can", Caretaker winked, "I'm going outside for a smoke while you watch it, okay?"

"Okay", Whumpee grinned at Whumper falling to the floor as they scurried out of the house, "thankyou Caretaker", Whumpee turned to them, "thankyou so much for doing this."

Caretaker winked, "you're welcome Whumpee", he grinned, "I'm glad I was able to do it."

I don't want to talk about how long this has sat in drafts. I hope you enjoyed. -MJ

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all. @villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath @porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13 @notpeppermint @cyborg0109 @idontreallyexistyet

[somerandomjewelleryonthefloor]

Random headcanons I made for HSS characters because they seem like they fit + I feel silly (these are very long and might go into essay length territory)(also ongoing as HSS is my obsession):

✧˚ Michael Harrison is a passenger princess. At least with my MC Solrin. I mean c'mon, he may have a car- but he's born to be on a motorcycle, he doesn't know how to drive a car for shit, he's the biggest passenger princess ever and my MC has a cute little pink tiara taped to the top of 'his' headrest, as a tease since he barely drives and always calls shotgun.

✧˚ Caleb likes to match clothes with his SO. Even if his SO is wearing the prettiest princess like dress or are wearing plaid with stripes with loafers on- he's matching them. Always. Even accessories, he just likes matching.

✧˚ Scott, the man, the legend, the dad himself- he is fucking loaded with cash. He is RICH. His train models are so good they bring in FARRR too much money to deal with. Hence why his daughter Solrin casually has a vintage 1963 dodge dart with customisation in 2018. HOWEVER, he likes to keep his daughter humble so they own a basic suburban house and he made his daughter get a job for her own money.

✧˚ Maria wakes up to cats on her every morning. Since she owns 2 cats now after adoption, they're heavily attached to her and sleep on her when it's bed time. Sometimes they do biscuits on her stomach and lay all their weight on her chest in the middle of the night which wakes her up because she can't breathe and also it's a weird sensation. She also definitely has cat hair on her socks sometimes.

✧˚ Aiden definitely sorts his clothing in his closet or clothes drawer via random things such as colour, texture, if it has print, and also what type of clothing it is. I just feel like he does, however he'll just throw his shoes in the fucking abyss when he gets home and will just know where it is. Which is why he hates it when his room gets cleaned because his shoes, despite being wherever, are usually always put in the same messy spot so he knows where it is- so when his room is cleaned he doesn't know where his bunny slippers are. #me

✧˚ Emma has a large pain tolerance but her tolerance with foods of weird textures and strong flavours are very low. She could break her leg and be fine, but if she has spicy octopus on her plate she's going to either cry or refuse to eat that shit at all. Which is a pain for Julia, but I mean Emma can't help it- some food is weird and she doesn't vibe with it. #me

✧˚ Michael is fucking terrified of thunder and lightning, to the point he quivers at seeing dark grey clouds. The loud sounds get to him, and he hates it. He has to cuddle his doggie Rollie in his bed and blast music through his headphones to get through them.

✧˚ Caleb takes it personally when he doesn't get to hug anybody. He's a cuddle bug, he loves his friends and his LI, so being denied a hug from anyone when they do something good like ace a test makes him sad.

✧˚ Sydney once stared at a kaleidoscope for an hour straight when she was in the nurses office because she hurt herself during cheer practice, and the school nurse didn't even need to do anything like talk to her or anything, other than patching her up, Sydney remained silent and staring at the glorious colourful light.

✧˚ Morgan was 'obsessed' with Joan Of Arc, Gretchen from Mean Girls, and most of the main girls in most kids shows in middle school, and this was before she knew what the term "Lesbian" meant.

✧˚ during freshmen year, Maria was obsessed with the business casual aesthetic so much, she wore full on blazers and button ups and looked super duper professional. Until everyone in her year had to remind her that this was freshmen year and she could dress up like a cat girl and no one would care.

[lenavonschweetz]

Grace For Sale

Sam Winchester x Reader

Synopsis: Your town could definitely handle themselves, but a little help isn’t something you’d willingly turn down.  When the Winchesters show up - do things get better, or worse?

Warnings: language, anti-religious sentiments, slight religious inner conflict, angst? If you squint?, smut, Under 18 keep faaaar away.

A/N: Takes place during s5:e17 - 99 Problems.  So funny story, I actually AM a preacher’s kid so this episode kinda made me laugh then gave me the idea for this.  Title comes from The Devil’s Carnival.  Also, this has been sitting in my drafts for literal years, guess it’s about time I post it. As always, I don’t have a beta so please excuse any typos. I’ll fix any that are pointed out to me.

Enjoy!

Sam and Dean aren’t exactly sure what to make of your little town.

The welcome wagon was a little more off the wall than they were used to - what with a firetruck full of holy water, a portable exorcism, and a group of civilians that actually knew about the things that go bump in the night.  Still, it wasn’t…the strangest introduction they’d encountered.

“So, are we gonna talk about that?”  Sam asks as Dean steers impala into town - right on the tail of the Sacrament Lutheran Militia’s truck.  What kind of a name was that anyway?

A church looms overhead, answering Sam’s unspoken question, and he wishes he hadn’t even asked.

It’s definitely the apocalypse, what with the devil’s trap brandishing the walkway up to the church door.

Sam’s eyes are heavy - spending the wee hours of the night fighting hellspawn will do that to you.  Especially when you’re bleeding out.  At least the militia had some quick fix first aid handy.

The first thing the brothers notice upon entering the sacred building is the couples standing at the alter, all facing the priest who prattles on about finding something special amidst the impending doom.  The second thing they notice is all of the townsfolk holding shotguns.

Sam scoffs.

“A wedding?  Seriously?”  How in God’s name - no, y’know what, scratch that - how in the Hell were they hosting a wedding at a time like this?

“Yup.  We’ve had 8 so far this week.”  The man to his right, Paul, says and it’s obvious Sam isn’t the only one who’s less than impressed.  At least they’re in good company.

It’s definitely the first time the brothers can be completely transparent in their introductions.  Sure, sometimes they’re found out, or sometimes they’re among other hunters.  But to tell an entire town - and a priest, no less - that they are demon hunters?  Yeah, that may take a little getting used to.

So is the priest toting a gun and the children packing salt rounds in the basement of the church.  Dean makes a quip about running scared or sticking around and making a home out of the place and Sam thinks he’d be leaning toward the later if the end of the world wasn’t resting on their shoulders.

But none of that explained how a whole town had taken up hunting.

Well, until the mystery prophet is introduced in the form of the “Packing Preacher’s” daughter - Leah.

Well…he’d been through stranger.

Dean makes a pass at her - right in front of her father.  The father.  Sam just rolls his eyes, gaze landing on the corner where another figure lurks.

Oh.

This one…he thinks…this one is much more his speed.

“Ah, my other daughter.”  Pastor Gideon says, holding a hand out to beckon you forward.  Sam watches as you push off the wall and approach the group.  There’s little family resemblance, he notes, but definitely isn’t complaining.  While your sister is clad in muted colors, baggy sweater, and tennis shoes - you opt for something a little form-fitting under your dark leather jacket with the combat boots to match.  You scream ‘hunter’, ‘capable’, and ‘danger’ more than anyone else in this town and he has trouble tearing his eyes off of you.  Now, you’re not complaining.  In fact, your eyes linger on Sam just as much as he does on you.  And when he realizes this, the mountain of a man becomes a flustered mess.   It brings a smirk to your face and a blush to his.  “Y/N, this is Dean and Sam Winchester.”

“So I’ve heard.”  You chuckle, arms crossing in front of the very cleavage Sam’s staring at beneath your open flannel.  You cock a brow, baiting him, though he seems too nervous with your father present to answer the challenge.  “Shame Leah never mentioned you.  Though,”  you cast an appreciative glance over their strong frames and Sam very nearly shivers.  Beside him, Dean practically preens.  “I can see why.  If I knew fine specimens such as yourself were going to be crashing in our little town, I’d keep it to myself too.”

The Father is none too amused when you wink at your sister and the two of you share a giggle.  Again, Sam notes the distinct lack of resemblance but brushes it off.

“Y/N,”  Your father says in warning, which you completely ignore and grant the taller Winchester another ravenous once over before turning on your heel.  If anyone asked, you would deny that you were overemphasizing the swing of your hips.

“If you need me,”  you tell him without so much as a glance, calling over your shoulder as you saunter up the basement stairs.  “I’ll be at Paul’s!”

—————

The next time you see the brothers, it’s at the house Leah’s vision lead you to.  Well, actually, that’s a lie.  You saw them the night before at Paul’s bar, but they seemed to be wrapped up in a very important conversation - if the concentration on their brows had anything to say about it. 

Still, that hadn’t stopped you from ordering the brothers a couple of beers.  To his credit, Paul doesn’t judge you - which is a lot more than you can say for your family as of late - and even brought the boys their drinks so that you could do the ever so clique cheers across the bar.

Sam merely nodded in his head in thanks, raised his own beer with a silent ‘cheers’, then went back over to his brother.

So you couldn’t get a better read on them that night.  That’s ok.  It gave you the perfect opportunity to ogle to your heart’s content.

They were some fine specimens, that’s for sure.  The perfect hunters.  Sharp eyes, strong statures.  Hell, Sam looked like he could take out multiple demons all on his own - I mean, come on.  Those arms!

God, you had gotten such a perfect look at them while they brooded and planned what with the way Sam’s sleeves had been rolled and pushed up to his elbows.  Had you ever found forearms as attractive as you did at that moment?  Probably not.

And that jawline?  Christ, you could cut glass on that thing.

The sideburns may have been a little much, but hell, if that was all you could pin as off, you’d take it! 

Your ogling session had been cut short by the bell tolling - another of your sister’s visions - and after arguing with your father in front of the whole church that ‘yes, I am going with them’ - your hunting group was on the doorstep of the abandoned home.  Most of the townspeople are toting guns full of salt or sprayers of holy water, all armed with the ridiculous incantation your sister had told you to use to exorcise them.

But not Sam.  No, Sam was only wielding a knife, and God did he make it look easy.  If you weren’t too busy kicking ass and getting your ass kicked, you’d be drooling over that too.

Only when the dust settles do you take the opportunity to approach the brothers.

“You really are the hunters my sister made you out to be.”  Sam’s perfect eyebrow arches at that, gaze flickering to the way your chest rises and falls with your heavy panting.

“You didn’t think we would be?”  You mirror his smirk and shrug, ignoring the way Dean is eyeing the two of you like he knows exactly what’s going on in your head.  Honestly, he probably did.  Dude seemed about as horny as you did.

 “So,” Sam pants, following the group out of the house.  You miss the way he’s eyeing your ass as you’re just steps ahead of him.  “That’s what it’s like.”  There’s no shortage of sexual innuendo in his voice and you decide to poke the bear a little more.  Whether your father was in earshot or not.

“What what’s like?”  You’re turned to him now, handing in your pockets and treading carefully backward.  He meets your hungry look with one of his own and shivers absolutely rattle your body.  Again he smirks, making sure the coast is clear of your father before saddling up right next to you.

“Having back up.”  He all but whispers in your ear, large hand grazing just inches above your bottom and god, how did he make such an innocent statement sound so filthy.  There’s no way he misses the way you tremble and sigh, not with the way he smirks at you while walking away.

You’re not sure what’s going to kill you first.  The Demons or your insatiable need for Sam fucking Winchester.

—————

Neither.

Neither of those things is gonna kill you first.

Because it’ll be your father that kills you.

Because you’re going to fucking murder your sister.

After the Winchesters brought back a murdered Dylan…well, things were tense. People started to resent them and the warm welcome they had initially received turned cold. Only you and Paul would speak to them without adding to the guilt you knew they already felt.

You knew it wasn’t their fault.  Hell, half of you had been through it before - coming off a hunt all together too cocky and not aware of the demon that still lurked around until it was too late.  Dylan was a good hunter.  Dean and Sam were good hunters.  It had happened to the best of you.  And so you do what you always did - you held a funeral and vowed to be more vigilant next time.

But that wasn’t enough for the townspeople.

Or for your sister.

No, she had to go and suck the fun out of everything.

No drinking, no gambling, no pre-marital sex.

All per the angels’ command, of course.

“What a crock of shit.”  The empty glass thunks against the wood of the bar - as hollow as you feel right about now.  Paul only echoes your sentiments and pours you another glass.  The only thing that pulls you from your ire is the bell signifying a newcomer.  For the first time since Leah’s proclamation, your scowl softens as the person you wanted to see most walks right through that door.

“So, what happened to, uh,” he makes a grand gesture to the empty bar - earning a snort from the two of you,  “’the apocalypse is good for business’?”

“Yeah, right up until Leah’s angel pals banned the good stuff.”  Paul says, earning a groan from you as you pinch the bridge of your nose at your damn sister’s name.  “Y/N’s here helping me kill some inventory.”  Sam chuckles at the glass you raise, tipping it toward him and saying ‘I’m only doing the good work.’  “Want to help?”

With a drink in hand, Paul pours a shot for each of you.  He doesn’t hold back on his opinion of the ‘holy rollers’ nor their hypocrisy, to which Sam calls him out for his noticeable lack of faith.  Paul shrugs it off, defending his honorable lack of prayer.

“Look, there’s sure as hell demons.  and maybe there is a god, I don’t know.  Fine.  But I’m not a hypocrite.  I never prayed before and I ain’t starting now.  If I go to Hell, I’m going honest.  Besides,”  Paul nods to you just as you put your shot glass - empty again - back on the bar.  “I figure if this one can get away with it, so can I.”  Sam’s eyebrows raise at that, eyes finding you.

“You either?”

“I grew up in the church,” you explain.  “I’ve seen how the…holiest of us all can be far worse than the ‘hooligans’ of the world.”  You wink at Paul, air quotes bouncing as you mimic your father’s ‘preacher’ voice.  The two of you share a laugh and you miss how Sam’s fingers tighten around his glass along with his jaw at the intimacy you two seem to share.  “Yeah, I believe in some kind of higher power.”  You continue, focus shifting to the Adonis beside you.  He doesn’t miss the bitter tone your voice takes on. “But I don’t believe in the church.  The organized religion crap.  Never been too big on it.  But then, neither had Leah.  And now, out of nowhere, she’s some chosen prophet?”  You scoff.  “I dunno.  I just can’t trust it.  And like Paul said, I’m no hypocrite.  I know I’m messed up.  Won’t pretend otherwise.”

This time when you regard Paul, patting his hand as one would a brother, Sam’s shoulders relax.

“Yeah, I, uh…I know what you mean.”  A moment of heavy, thick silence passes between the two of you before you’re pressing him for his thoughts with nothing more than a look.  “I believe.”  But he doesn’t sound so sure.  More convincing himself than he is you, maybe, so you stay quiet and let him work through his thoughts.  “Yeah, I do.”  He says, more assured this time.  “I’m just pretty sure God stopped caring a long time ago.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”  A big sigh breaks from your chest, one of those sighs that comes when you feel like you’ve forgotten how to breathe, and suddenly this conversation is too heavy for how drunk you are not and for how drunk you want to be.

After a few moments, a morbid, hindsight joke blooms in your head and you can’t help but laugh, noting the questioning look on your drinking buddies’ faces.

“Guess those newlyweds knew something we didn’t.”  You chuckle, taking a pull of your drink.  “Tied the knot before Leah could restrict ‘em.  Betcha they’re bangin’ like rabbits right about now.”  The liquor burns, smothering your humorless chuckle as you knock it back.  “Lucky bastards.”  

Behind the bar Paul chuckles, noting the tension in the air, the sudden shift of mood, and takes his exit - mumbling something about grabbing more from the back. Neither you or Sam really hear him, though - too wrapped up in the other’s stare you share at what you’re implying.  

Helluva wingman, that Paul.

Once the two of you are alone, Sam swivels in his chair until his long legs drape open and you have to force yourself not to look down.  A bushy, perfectly masculine brow arches.  Then he speaks - voice low and sweet and pure sin.

“Really?  You, uh, don’t seem to have much issue with breaking the no-drinking rule.”  And it isn’t a question.  He flicks the back of his fingers against your glass, warm eyes staring right at you as the faint tinkling tickles your ears.  Your heart shutters in time with the tinkling of skin on glass and you don’t realize you’re chewing on your bottom lip until his eyes flicker to it.  “You gonna draw the line at pre-marital sex?”

“Now, Sam Winchester...who said I would do that?”  The look you fix him with has him adjusting his suddenly too-tight pants.

“Not afraid of being damned?  Of not being one of the ‘chosen’?”

“I’m no ‘chosen’.”  You scoff, bouncing air quotes once more.  “That’s my sister.  Me?  I’m just the poor little preacher’s kid who lost her faith a long time ago.”   It isn’t seductive talk - in fact, it’s dark as hell.  But he asked, and like you’d said before - you were no liar, and you were no hypocrite.  You turn to your companion, renewed .  “But you know…there is a curfew.”

The tonal shift isn’t subtle, but that doesn’t keep the space between you from growing ever smaller, Sam’s large hand sliding up your thigh and again you must fight off the urge to shiver.  Especially when he lowers his voice once more, those big hazel eyes glancing at you from under his full, coal black lashes.

“Is that so?”  A squeeze to your thigh, and you jolt just the tiniest bit, to Sam’s great amusement.

“My place is right around the corner.”  You explain with a shrug, that damn lip caught between your teeth again. And suddenly in the dark, empty bar, you don’t care if you are damning yourself to hell.  As long as it’s at the hands of Sam Winchester, you’ll go willingly.

—————

The wall of your entryway meets your back sharply, a hiss of pain escaping you momentarily before it’s silenced by Sam’s eager lips.

Hurried hands rid you of your clothes, his own falling like breadcrumbs alongside yours until the two of you are falling on to the bed.  Fingers skilled at far more than knife-wielding ghost up your thighs, featherlight touches leaving a fire under your skin.  He’s slow in his undoing of you.  Reverent even.  Watches the way you keen beneath him, begging for his fingers.  Holds your eyes as he drags those fingers through his lips before trailing the wet tips down your front. When he finally gives them to you, one long digit sliding right up to the knuckle, your teeth break the skin of your lip just enough to hurt and you’re gasping - begging for more - which he gives to you, gladly. Working you until you’re ready for him and at the precipice of falling over the edge.

He had looked good in his clothes, sure, but god damn he’s ten times more beautiful out of them.  Infinite smooth, golden skin lays beneath your greedy fingers, a dusting of fine hair contouring the plane of his chest and down below his waistband.  Your mouth waters and you tug impatiently at his jeans.

“Someone’s eager.”  He chuckles, low and husky, standing to drop both pants and boxers.  Oh.  Good God.

“Oh, you have no idea.”  You only break your eyes away to grab a condom before you shove him on his back and straddle those strong thighs.  "I've been wanting to get your clothes off since the second I laid eyes on you."

"Trust me," he breathes - no, borderline growls - and you shutter, walls fluttering at how fucking empty you are and just how fucking bad you need him inside of you right now.  "The feeling's mutual."

He’s big all over, just like you expected, and even rolling the latex over his thick shaft has you shivering in anticipation.  The action doesn’t go unnoticed by the gigantic man beneath you and before you can react, he’s rolling his hips with a moan that takes your breath away.  It takes immense focus to speak through your gasp.

“Don’t finish this before it’s even started, Winchester.”  He laughs at your warning, fingers digging into your thighs and ass.  Oh, this man is going to wreck you, you just know it.

“You have so little faith in me?”  A quip lies on your tongue, something about having no faith at all, but that melts into a strangled moan the second his fat head presses past your opening.  “Oh, Christ.”  He hisses, teeth clenched and head thrown back in unadulterated pleasure at the feel of you, your hips rolling slowly as you try your best to take the overwhelming size of him.  Your fingers digging into supple pecs does nothing to ebb the overwhelming feeling of Sam spearing you open.

“Leave him outta this.”  You quip, sinking down the rest of the way - finally.  You both shiver at the feeling of him fully seated in you before you start rocking against him.

Not much else is said - not much else needed to be said - as the two of you chase relief and distraction in each other.

The stretch burns in the best way and you realize you're going to be feeling this for days.  Every step, every shift is going to take you right back here - your hands splayed out on sculpted pecs, Sam's angelic and angular face contorted in ecstasy as he does his best to keep his eyes open and watch you ride him for everything he's worth.  Those big hazel eyes blink up at you, fluttering and rolling at a particularly deep stroke before they're suddenly open - fiery and determined.  There's no time to even tease or question before he's pistoning up into you, his marble body rubbing yours in such a way that has you gasping for air, his massive hands splayed over your ass to keep you exactly where he wants you. Sloppy thrusts turn to rocking hips and the new angle has your toes curling.

His cock grazes just the right spot with every rock of his hips, both of you whispering moans and groans of the other’s name.  You do your best to keep up, rolling your tired hips when you can, nails biting into his skin when you have to focus solely on not imploding right where you are.

Your orgasm crests, and you beg him to go faster - to take control - and he does, practically throwing you onto your back to angle you the exact way he wants to.  The height difference is dizzying - even with you on your back and him on his haunches - all you can see while he hammers into you is the brand on his chest.  You itch to bite into the ink, to make him mewl against your skin once more but all rational thought flies out the window when his thumb reaches between your splayed legs, presses in tight, dizzying circles, and sends you spiraling into oblivion as aftershock after aftershock rocks your nerves.

In the aftermath of it all - after you’ve seen white from the intense pleasure he milked out of you - you lie in a daze.  Memorizing the way his hands feel as he wipes some of his spend off your chest.  Jesus, the sounds that man had made when he came...you have half a mind to tie him down and never let him leave - your sister's 'orders' be damned.

“It’s past curfew, y'know?”  You remind him, fingers tracing the divots and curves of his abdomen.  God, he’s perfect.  You could spend hours memorizing every inch of skin.   Pity said skin disappears behind thick flannel once more.  You bite back a disappointed groan, casting your eyes over his massive stature.  You don't think you'll ever get over just how small he makes you feel - in the best possible way, of course.  Especially when he flashes that perfect fucking smile at you, dimples and all.

“Yeah?  What about it?”  He urges, a shit-eating grin playing at his lips as he dares you to ask him to stay.  You sit up on your knees then, leveling yourself with his chest and drag your fingers down once more.  "Something you want to say, Y/N?"  If possible, his grin grows wider when you crook an eyebrow at him, beckoning him to your level with a come hither finger to match.

“If you’re waiting for me to ask you to stay, Sam Winchester,"  you whisper, lips ghosting over his own and you take great pride in the way his sinfully long lashes flutter against the tops of his sharp cheeks.   "You can keep waiting.”  The low groan that escapes his throat when you cup him once more makes you ache in the absolute best way.  You're seconds away from throwing your pride to the wind and pulling him back into bed with you.  But this is the end of the world after all.  No doubt he has other pressing matters to attend to.

“Yeah, well, as much as I would love to…I should get back before Dean gets worried.”  Disappointment laces his words, but you’re both too grown-up for any fairytale crap.  Your life felt like more a horror lately than a fantasy, anyway.  So, with incredibly gentle fingers, he pulls your hand toward his lips, grazing them over your knuckles as his eyes bore into yours.  Hmm, he plays dirty.

“Yeah…my dad’s probably expecting me at the church.”  You offer lamely, though there's probably some truth to it.  Not one night goes by without a demon attack or a vision from the chosen sister.  You're surprised you haven't been interrupted by a frantic call from your father already, as a matter a fact.  He smiles at you again, your heart running rampant as he's tossing the towel down to wrap his arms around your waist once more.  The look in his eyes and the hardness pressing into your belly are tempting enough, but you manage to grit out a warning "Sam..."

“And here you are, sinning with the outsider.”  He rumbles, smirking as his eyes drink in your face for - most likely - the last time.  You return his smile, reeling him in for one last kiss...or twelve.

“Yeah, well, if I’m going to hell anyway, may as well make the road there fun.”

If only you knew the literal hell that awaited you in the next few hours…

FIN