#jesus christ we need better signs

[fascinatedhelix]

Some fun things I’ve heard at work over the past few months:

“I gotta take what’s left of my brain and throw it in the trash because right now it’s all soup, and not even good soup!”

“____ is turning 21 soon.” “Oh she’s a baby!”

“Hello Mr-and/or-Miss security man person!”

“Are you high from the paint fumes yet? It stinks in here!” “No, unfortunately.”

“The sign says please don’t climb on the platforms.” “I didn’t see a sign!” “…. (points to a sign saying STAY OFF PLATFORMS PLEASE)” “I said I didn’t see a sign, not that there weren’t any…”

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

the handyman

pairing: neighbor! joel miller x f! reader

cws/tags: pure smut, DADDY KINK, oral m & f receiving, p in v (unprotected), an abundance of pet names, reader is under 21 but over 18 (for the plot), reader is kinda stupid, big dick joel, not beta read

summary: pwp honestly. basically a porn plot? idk joel comes over to reader's grandma's house to fix the smoke detector (which she broke) and he teaches her how to be a good girl.

a/n: don't ask why reader lives with her grandma, originally this was going to be longer and it was going to be more relevant

join my taglist!

wc: 2k

You open the front door to and see an unfamiliar man standing at your doorstep – 40 something, jeans and a t-shirt, progressively more handsome the longer you look at him. You size him up, trying to decide what his intentions are.

“Whatever it is you’re selling – I don’t wanna buy it," you say.

He opens his mouth, but you continue before he can say anything. “I don’t even live here anyway, and before you ask she’s not home, so you can’t talk to her.”

“I ain’t here to sell you shit.”

“Well, I don’t wanna sign anything either.”

“Good. ‘Cause I don’t want you to.”

“Then why are you here? I don’t have a lot of time before One Tree Hill comes back on, so make it quick.”

“I’m Joel. I live down the street. I’m here to fix your smoke detector.”

“Oh, in that case, come on in,” you say, changing your demeanor entirely as you realize that you really need to get in this man’s good graces.

“So, you’re ‘handyman’ grandma’s been talking about?” you ask, as you lead him to the kitchen.

“She’s been talking about me?”

“Yeah. She talks about you like you’re her boyfriend.”

“Oh yeah? What’d she say?”

“I dunno. I wasn’t really listening. I thought it might just be some dementia-induced delusion.”

“Well, she’s told me quite a bit about you.”

“Good things?”

“Better than the things she says about all of your other family members.”

“You know what they say, ‘if you don’t want people to talk badly about you, then you shouldn’t ruin Christmas.’”

“Uh-huh,” he says, only half-listening as he approaches the scene of the crime - a broken smoke detector, now just wires and plastic, lays on the kitchen counter. He studies it for a minute, furrowing his brows. “Jesus Christ. What happened?”

“It just fell off the wall.” You shrug, acting nonchalant and hoping he doesn't notice your shifty eyes from across the kitchen.

“No way,” he says – not with curious incredulity, but knowing disapproval.

He turns to you and crosses his arms over his chest, and engages you in a short staring contest.

“What?” you ask, feigning innocence.

Joel swipes the dish rag from the countertop and reveals the evidence you’d hidden under it like he's performing a magic trick.

He holds up the hammer, displaying it to you. He looks mostly disappointed in you - in an oddly paternal way, but also slightly amused, likely by how poorly you’d conducted this whole covert operation of yours. “Why’d you break it?”

“I didn’t break it.”

“Kid, I’m not an idiot. Just fess up, so we can fix it and move on.”

“Are you gonna tell on me?”

“You afraid of your meemaw’s wrath?” he teases.

“I don’t want her to be disappointed in me.”

“Should she be?”

“I didn’t mean to break it. I just wanted it to stop beeping.”

“It’s supposed to beep.”

You give him a pathetic pout that you hope works. It doesn’t. It only makes his gaze harden.

“I’m sorry. It was just one cigarette, and I really, really didn’t want to get in trouble… so when it went off, I panicked and hit it with the hammer.”

He shakes his head and sighs. “You’re a piece of work, kid. Making me come out here on my lunch break-”

“-I’m sorry," you interrupt, "I won’t do it again, so just please, please don’t tell on me.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“I could offer you something… something to show my infinite remorse for my actions and my infinite gratitude to you for fixing the mess I made.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Okay. What’s your offer?”

His smirk makes you think you’re on the same page so you get down on your knees in front of him, but when you look up into his eyes, what stares back at you is complete bewilderment.

“Get up,” he says, offering you his hand.

“I thought…”

“I don’t think you were thinking,” he says condescendingly.

“You’ve gotta learn to listen to the thoughts up here,” he says, tapping you on your temple. “Not the ones down here.” His finger brushes against your clit.

The way he speaks to you only makes it worse, the throbbing, aching feeling between your legs. You can’t find a single thing to say that isn’t ‘please’ followed by some utterly depraved suggestion.

Joel turns back to his work, somehow unfazed by the interaction.

“Normally, I’d think this sounds a bit too chauvinistic to ask, but since you owe me, can you get me a beer from the garage?”

Oh fuck. Three strikes, you’re out.

“We don’t have any beer.”

“You sure about that? I just put a six pack in there last week.”

“Maybe my grandma drank them already…”

“Your grandmother said that Budweiser tastes like cat piss.”

“It does.”

“Yeah? And how would you know that? I thought you weren’t 21 yet. Who’s buying you alcohol?”

“I didn’t know they were yours.”

“Uh-huh, but I bet your grandma would’ve told you they were if you’d asked her. But she doesn’t know about your ‘habits’, does she?”

“No,” you admit weakly.

“Come here.”

You step towards him, and wait for him to give you an earful or to threaten to reveal your secrets.

“I’m reconsidering your little offer.”

Your face lights up at the opportunity to make things right, to expunge this from your record.

“So if I did that, we’d be cool, right?”

“Depends on how good you are, darlin’.”

For a second time that afternoon, you sink to your knees, but this time, Joel gives you the go-ahead. You try to balance the coyness you’ve seen women in the movies demonstrate with the eagerness you feel inside as you undo his belt.

With his jeans halfway down his legs, you place your palm over the bulge in his boxers and feel him twitch at your touch. When his cock is finally released from its confines, you try not to be too intimidated. Your confidence is falling but your arousal only rises.

You begin by wrapping your hand around him and stroking his length, setting a steady pace. Then, you tease the tip with kitten licks and hear his breath hitch when you flick your tongue across his slit.

There’s no way you can take him all the way down your throat – you’d probably bruise your esophagus. Still, you try, sputtering and letting saliva drip down your chin. You can’t help but feel a bit proud of yourself when he has to put his hand on the counter to steady himself.

“Hold on, sweetheart,” he says through heavy breaths.

You pull away, upset at what you perceive to be a failure. “You didn’t cum…”

“I almost did, baby girl, but I don’t want to yet.”

You feel a bit pathetic imagining how you must look from his perspective, with your teary eyes, begging him to let you go on.

“You wanna give me a good apology, right?” He nods slowly, looking into your eyes, prompting you to do the same.

“Then, I want you to come sit on the couch with me.”

He takes your hand and walks you to the living room, patronizing since the two rooms are connected. When Joel sits down on the couch, he pulls you into his lap.

“I was thinkin’ about what I said before – how you’re not using your head. You could be such a smart girl – a good girl - if only you could think with your brain. You just need a little bit of help.”

You can feel his hard cock poking through his boxers and rubbing against your pussy. It’s hard to resist the urge to roll your hips, just to get a bit of friction, a bit of relief.

His hand finds its way between your legs and he asks, “What’s gonna happen if I put my hand in your panties right now, baby? Are you gonna be wet?”

While you try to form a response that doesn’t make you sound too desperate, his fingers toy with your waistband. “Remember, baby, good girls are honest,” he whispers into the shell of your ear.

“Yeah, I am… wet.”

“For me?” His hand meets your bare skin and finds that you are, indeed, dripping wet. “Did I do this to you?”

“Uh-huh.” You arch into his touch, shamelessly using his fingers for your own pleasure.

“If you want more, you have to be a good girl.”

With the promise of a reward, you follow his implied instructions and still your hips.

“I’ll be good. I promise.”

He takes your word for it and begins rubbing circles on your clit. You could cum from that alone but he slips a finger inside you, curling it upward to meet that special spot.

Joel expects a response from you, but not the one he gets.

A single word: “Daddy…”

“Oh, baby. I get it now. Been needin’ daddy to take care of you.”

He’s right. You do need this. He can take care of you, you can be good for him. When he fucks you with his fingers, you swear you could fall in love with him.

But when he takes them away, you cry.

“Shh… It’s okay,” he says, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I wanna do something else. It’s gonna make you feel even better.”

Before you have a chance to think, your panties are on the floor and his head is between your thighs. You can feel his breath on your clit when he speaks. “I want you to be a good girl and cum on my face – can you do that?”

“Yes, daddy.” The word leaves your mouth more naturally than it probably should, it's almost instinctual.

Joel wastes no more time talking, knowing his tongue can convey much more when it runs along your folds, and his lips can elicit a better response when they suck lightly on your clit.

The only thing you have for him is moans accompanied by breathless chanting of “daddy, daddy, daddy.”

He hums into your core, an affirmative, a reminder that you are a good girl. You can do this.

You can cum for him. You will cum for him – there is nothing that can stop the euphoria that rushes through you. It’s the kind that makes your legs shake and your eyes roll back into your head.

Joel was right – the orgasm clears your mind. But the realization that the situation you’ve ended up in – naked on your grandmother’s couch with her middle-aged neighbor who is supposed to be fixing your mistake, not helping you make another - is a precarious one. Being a smart girl seems to be a double edged sword.

Euphemistically, speaking.

In truth, it’s Joel’s cock that’s fully-sheathed inside you. Pain and pleasure mix as he thrusts in and out of you. You swear he might split you open, but even if he quite literally tore you to pieces, you'd die happily.

“You’re takin’ it so well,” he tells you, “knew you’d be a good girl.”

And maybe it’s the praise, or maybe it’s his thumb on your clit, but you’re rapidly approaching a second orgasm. All you can do is hold onto Joel, dragging your nails down his back. He bites your neck in response, and hopefully he doesn’t intend for it be a deterrent, because it only serves to heighten your pleasure.

He slows his pace, but his hips slam into yours harder, filling the air with the sound of skin slapping against skin in a steady rhythm.

“Whose pussy is this?”

You can’t breathe when the weight of his cock knocks the wind out of you, so he stops, allowing you to answer.

“Yours, daddy!”

His lips on yours are your cue to cum – or so you hope because it happens regardless of your will.

He has the sense to pull out and let his release spill onto your stomach.

You sigh, relaxing into the couch. “I need a cigarette,” you say.

“Did you not learn anything from today?”

“Mm-mm,” you say grinning dumbly.

Caught up in a daze – absolutely enraptured by his need to have you – he made the mistake of fucking you stupid.

[successfulgoddess333]

MENTALLY JUST BE, PHYSICALLY JUST SLEEP

The 3D is a RESULT

If you assume something in the 4D(your mind) watch it unravel in your 3D

Why is this???

I’m gonna yell at you now

BECAUSE THE 3D IS CHANGEABLE AND IT IS SO BECAUSE OF THE FACT THAT IT IS A RESULT

The 3D is a result of assumption

The assumptions you created yourself subconsciously

Manifesting a new job is the same as manifesting

A billionaire status

Stop doubting something that’s so easy

Whether you manifest through The void or whatever other methods it is sooo easy

Quit victimizing and babying yourself and get it the fuck done

Ain’t nobody gonna do it for ya

It’s your life baby you write it design it however the heck you want it to be

I’m not one of those bloggers to be be like “it’s ok pookie if you fail🥹”

NO BITCH YOU CANNOT FAIL

THE VOID IS LITERALLY YOU

YOUR GORGEOUS SELF IS THE REASON WHY IT EXISTS AND YOU OVERCOMPLICATING IT FOR WHAT???

Ignore the 3D

It’s physical

The jeans you’re wearing right now or that hoodie

Is physical

You can change it up for you want

The 3D is that

It’s those jeans that hoodie those socks

Change it

If you don’t wanna wear it

THEN DONT

If you feel like you deserve better

ASSUME BETTER

LOOK IN THAT MF MIRROR AND TELL YOURSELF YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL AND YOU ALWAYS BEEN THAT BITCH NOBODY IS ABOVE YOU WE ALL FINE AS HELL

JEALOUSY FOR WHATTTTTT

BBY GIRL ITS ALWAYS BEEN YOU YOU ALWAYS BEEN THAT BITCH

YOU TOO PRETTY TO BE SAD YOU KNOW ABOUT THE VOID CUZ THE UNIVERSE SHOWED YOU YOU ARE THE CHOSEN ONE

ACT LIKE IT GIRL!!!!!!

THIS IS YOUR SIGN TO STOP READING AND GO GET THAT DREAM LIFE

LIKE TF YOU STILL READING FOR

TAKE YOU FINE ASS TO THE VOID AND GET WHAT YOU ALWAYS WANTED

WITH YOUR CUTE SELF😏

I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH

BUT STOP SAYING “hoW dO EnTEr tHE vOiD?”

👁️👄👁️

Bitch you just did

YOU ALWAYS DOOOOOO

Jesus peanut butter Christ

Cmon y’all

yOu HavE alWayS dONe tHis!!!!

Every time you go to bed

You’re detaching from the 3D(physical reality)

To be in the 4D reality

All you’re doing is becoming aware of it

Oh my god

How hard is that?!!!!

You’re killing me babes😔✋🏾

Please for the love of jell-o

Understand how easy this shizzz is

Bruh

You’re in the 3D void rn

I know that probably doesn’t exist but hear me out

You’re so attached to this reality right

Every day you are aware that you’re here living in this physical world as a physical being

This is like our 3D version of the void state

It’s not actually the void

But it’s like our state of awareness

Just in this 3D world

We’re aware that we are physical

So to shift your awareness to the 4D simply just

Be aware

Just like you’re aware now

“BUtt hoW dO sTaY aWAkE?”

Who said you gotta be sleepy??

Bitch you could do it rn if you really want to

It’s dumb to think you gotta be tired at to enter the void

NOOOOO

You literally are mentally awake

Your BODY is asleep

So why should you??

It’s different if you wanna tap into it WHILE asleep

Like waking up in it

But you don’t need to be dead tired to do it y’all

Listen bitch

You will never make it if you don’t claim your power and go get it

Stop wasting time stop assuming you fail or it’s hard

YOU DA POWERFUL ONE BABE

Sugar baby it’s all in your hands

You’re the God of your reality

Go make your life the way you want it

Quit spending hours trying to find methods to something to you naturally do every night with NO method

When you go to sleep

You are in the state of just being

You’re just sleep

When you’re awake you’re in the state of awakened awareness

You’re just awake and aware

Soooo in the void mix those two together in the void

Mentally Just BE

Physical Just sleep

Omg my new motto

The key to the void state is

“MENTALLY JUST BE

PHYSICALLY JUST SLEEP”

That’s it

That’s all

And If your favorite celebrities can manifest so can you

[pedrospatch]

not a thing

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

part ii

summary: You and Joel had a private moment while Ellie was asleep. Or so you’d thought she was asleep.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. implied smut, but no actual smut. grumpy Joel, Ellie is a little shit.

Word Count: 1.5k

a/n: nervous to write for TLOU but still giving it a shot! poor Ellie for being subjected to what i am about to subject her to lol. Edit: holy shit, i did not expect this to get much attention. thank you all sm for reading, liking and reblogging!

It had been an incredibly stupid thing to do.

So, so, so fucking stupid.

You knew that.

And Joel knew that.

You two were supposed to have been standing watch.

Not to mention, there had been a teenaged girl sleeping close by, just mere fucking yards away from the two of you had been—

Jesus Christ.

Dammit, you and Joel fucking knew better than to be this goddamn stupid.

Careless.

But neither of you could help yourselves.

It had been several weeks—actually, it had been several months since you two had been able to steal a private moment for yourselves. That moment would have been missed had you not somehow woken up in the middle of the night, only to find Joel wide awake, his rifle in hand as he stood watch while you and Ellie had slept. You’d offered to take his place for a few hours so he could get some rest too, but instead, a few minutes and many, many desperate, feverish kisses later, the two of you found yourselves on the other side of Bill’s old white and blue Chevrolet pickup truck, Joel’s jeans unzipped and your own jeans pulled down around your knees along with your underwear. He’d had you bent over, but still standing at a point where you could peek over the bed of the truck so that you could somehow keep a watchful eye out in between the moments of mind-numbing pleasure—both for any signs of potential danger and also for Ellie, who was passed out, curled up into a little ball in her sleeping bag and completely unaware of what her two reluctant protectors were doing behind the vehicle right next to her.

Your bottom lip was busted, bruised from biting down on it so hard.

The deal had been no noise, not even a single whimper, although you couldn’t remember how well either of you had stuck to that rule in the heat of the moment. It had been a quick fuck, just enough to give you and Joel some much needed relief from all of those pent up stresses and frustrations you two were carrying on your shoulders since Ellie had entered your lives just the week before. And just like back in the Boston QZ, Joel said nothing to you once it was over and done with.

It never hurt your feelings. It was just how things were.

It was some sort of twisted, fucked up unspoken pact the two of you had. 

Joel Miller fucked you, and then he just pretended like nothing ever happened, not until the next time he found himself buried inside of you.

It’s not like you expected Joel to return your feelings.

Hell, you weren’t even sure the man knew how to feel anything but anger, bitterness, and violence. 

Afterwards, Joel took you up on your offer to keep watch and slept for a couple of hours until sunrise came and had you both moving, packing up the truck and getting ready to continue the long drive ahead to Wyoming.

“She’s been oddly quiet,” Joel mumbled to you as he packed up the remnants of the small campsite into the bed of the pickup truck. “Go check on her.”

Obediently, you nodded and dropped the sleeping bag in your hands before turning away and walking over to where Ellie was sitting cross legged on the ground, her fingers mindlessly fiddling with a small, broken tree branch on the ground. “Hey,” you offered her a small smile. “It’s almost time to get going. You doing alright over here?”

She looked up at you and gave you a small nod. “Yeah. Just cold as fuck since we can’t have a fucking fire going,” she said, tossing a tiny glare over in Joel’s direction. “But other than that? I’m just fucking peachy.”

You chuckled and shrugged out of your worn out, brown windbreaker jacket. You draped it over Ellie’s shoulders before taking a seat beside her on the ground. She may have been a thorn in Joel’s side—then again, who wasn’t a thorn in Joel Miller’s side—but you’d warmed up to her fairly quickly. A lot quicker than your partner, anyway. He was still a work in progress.

“Did you sleep okay?”

Ellie nodded, clutching your jacket close. “Kinda,” she shrugged her small shoulders. “The ground was really hard and uncomfortable. I woke up a couple of times throughout the night and had trouble falling back asleep.”

Your smile faded ever so slightly. “Oh? You did?”

Noticing the sudden change in your demeanor, a small smirk crossed the girl’s face. “I knew you and McGrumps over there were a thing.”

You nearly choked on your own saliva as you nervously sputtered out, “W-What the hell are you talking about?”

Ellie raised an eyebrow at you, shooting you a knowing look as her smirk widened.

Oh for fuck’s sake. Ellie had caught you and Joel while you two were—fucking?

Mortified did not even come close to cutting it.

“Oh god,” You muttered, your face on fire. 

“I really hope you two are being smart and using protection,” she added teasingly. “What’s that saying? Wrap it before you tap it?”

“Ellie!” You hissed, glancing over your shoulder. Joel went about his business and it was times like these where you were actually thankful that his hearing wasn’t what it used to be. You turned back to her and quickly started trying to explain yourself. “Ellie, I don’t know what you think you saw but—”

“Oh, it was too dark to see anything. I heard you guys.” She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. “Back behind the truck.” She paused, thoroughly enjoying every single moment of complete and utter discomfort she was causing you. “You know, if that’s gonna keep happening, I’m really gonna need you guys to find me a Walkman with some headphones. Noise cancelling headphones, please and thank you.”

You dropped your head into your hands and anxiously rubbed your face with your palms. “Fuck. I’m really sorry, Ellie,” Was all that you could say.

What else could you say?

Sorry you had to hear me getting fucked by my partner while you were laying just feet away in your sleeping bag?

“Sorry for what? For not being able to keep it in your pants?” Ellie giggled, slapping your knee with her hand in an attempt to get you to lighten up. “I get it. Nature. Hormones. Biology and shit.”

You lifted your face from your hands. “Joel can’t know,” You warned her. “Or he won’t be able to look you or me in the eye ever again.”

Ellie groaned in exaggeration, throwing her head back. “Aw, come on! I really wanted to see him squirm.”

“Me squirming should be fucking enough you little shit,” You laughed, shoving her playfully with your elbow. Once both of your giggles had subsided, in a more serious tone, you told her, “And for the record, we are not a thing.”

Ellie stared at you in disbelief. “Get out of here, you lying sack of shit! You totally are!”

“I know it’s hard to understand. But just because two people—” You trailed off, trying to choose your words carefully. It was more often than not that you had to remind yourself that despite what Ellie had been through and all she had seen, she was still fourteen. A fucking child.

“Bump uglies?” she suggested, wiggling her eyebrows.

You sighed. “Jesus Christ, please don’t ever fucking say that out loud again.” You paused briefly, running a hand through your hair. “But yes. Just because two people do what he and I were doing, that doesn’t mean anything. For a lot of people, it can be quite meaningless actually. It does not mean they are a thing. Me and Joel? Not a thing. Understood?”

Ellie blinked. “That’s probably the biggest pile of bullshit I’ve ever heard. Even before last night, I knew you two were a thing. Whether either of you admit it or not. I can tell.”

You knew better than to play into what she was saying, but the sheer curiosity got the better of you.

What had Ellie noticed about you and Joel?

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged, bringing her knees up to her chest. “I dunno. The way you look at him. The way he looks at you. He’s a guy who doesn’t seem to give a shit about too many things or too many people. But I know he does give a shit about you. He cares about you. Even if he might have a shitty ass way of showing it.”

You glanced back over at Joel and then back at Ellie, confused.

“And you can deny it all you want. But if there’s one thing that stone cold asshole cares about, it’s definitely you,” Ellie stated firmly.

Your mouth fell open slightly, unsure what to say to her.

“What the hell are you two yappin’ about over there?” Joel called, looking over his shoulder.

“Nothing!” Ellie practically sang, causing him to roll his eyes and turn his attention back to his task.

“Well then, get off your asses and let’s get a fuckin’ move on. Ain’t got time to waste.”

[villainousauthor]

Would you plss write something where a villain and hero realize they're soulmates? Thank you<333

Hero grunted in pain as they clutched their abdomen and tried to catch their breath. Their head swam, and their vision blurred as they attempted to gain their bearings. One second, they were in a massive fight against several villains. The next, they found themselves being pushed back through a portal. Supervillain was likely to blame for that, with his ability to warp people anywhere in the world.

Hopefully, their communicator wasn't broken in battle, so they'll be able to send their location to their team. If they could even find it.

They try to stand, and immediately, their vision starts to darken around the edges and their head throbs. With a hiss they fall back to the ground.

"Careful, you probably have a concussion."

Hero cranes their neck to see Villain a few feet away, remarkably less injured and approaching. They don't have any weapons drawn, but still, hero feels their heart lurch.

They open their mouth, trying to speak. "I didn't see you go through the portal.. " Even their voice is laced with pain.

Villain is closer now and stops a few feet away, kneeling so they're at eye level. They seem to be assessing Hero's current state. Probably to see if they can easily finish them off, Hero assumes.

"I came in after you." Villain says nonchalantly, like this is the most obvious thing in the world. They eye the blood currently dripping down Hero's head, and the large gash in their arm.

Hero snort, and their chests aches in protest. "Why, to finish the job? Make sure I don't come back?"

Standing up and getting closer, Villain rolls their eyes.

"No, idiot. One day, if you die, it's not going to be at Supervillain's hands. Or because you bled out in-" Villain looks around at the tall trees, the lack of buildings or signs of civilization. "- the middle of the...pacific northwest? I don't even know where we are." They finish, unsure.

Hero tries to sit up as Villain kneels down again, closer this time. "I don't know either. I lost all my tech, I don't even have a way of contacting my team."

"Lucky for you, my stuff faired much better." Villain says smugly, and Hero wishes they could knock the look off their face. "I'll send my location to my henchmen, and they'll come to get us."

Villain reaches out for their arm, and Hero immediately finds themselves flinching away. Villain's lips press into a thin line.

"I'm not going to kill you, like I said. Unless you want to bleed out before someone arrives, you should let me treat your wounds." Villain's voice is firm as they pull a small first aid kid off their utility belt.

"I'm not going to bled out, it's not that bad." Hero tries to keep a defiant edge to their voice. For all they know, Villain will kill them, probably inject them with some poison or something just to make it easy.

"How bad did you hit your head? Are you blind suddenly? Because it looks pretty damn bad." Villain opens the small kit, showing Hero the contents. "Look, normal first aid crap." Their brows are furrowed, frustrated by Hero's reluctance.

Finally, after several tense seconds, Hero relents. They nod and slump their shoulders, as Villain moves closer now.

"The amount of trust issues you have is ridiculous..." They grumble under their breath as they slowly pull the damaged and blood-soaked sleeve of Hero's uniform back. They get a good look at the deep and long cut. Their frown deepens.

Pulling off their dirty gloves, Villain speaks again as they reach for something else.

"I'm going to have to clean this before I dress it. You might need sutures, though." Grabbing alcohol wipes, they use one hand to hold Hero's arm steady, grabbing their forearm.

Hero immediately hisses and jumps back, wrenching their arm from Villain's grasp.

"Jesus christ! Cleaning it shouldn't hurt that much!" Hero exclaims, even more tense. "What did you do, burn me?" They demand, but then they see Villain's expression. Their eyes are focused on Hero's arm, and their face looks cloudy and unreadable. They don't respond to what Hero said, like they didn't register it.

Hero looks down at their arm, and their eyes widen when they see it. Right on their arm, below the wound is a handprint. A completely different shade than Hero's skin tone, it stands out. A soulmark. Right where Villain grabbed them.

"Oh..." Is all Hero can manage to say in this moment. Villain seems to snap out of their trance and reaches for Hero's arm quickly, wrapping their hand back around where the mark is. It fits perfectly.

"This is...this really...this wasn't here before, right?" Villain asks, even though they saw Hero's completely blank and markless skin moments before. They unknowingly tighten their hold, and Hero yelps, their arm still in pain.

Pulling their hand back like they were burned, Villain finally meets Hero's eyes. "You're..." Villain trails off, shaking their head. They look away, palm to their forehead like they're trying to process this.

Hero feels like the forest floor will open up any minute and swallow them whole. If it weren't for their probable concussion, they're sure they would be taking this a lot harder. It feels like there's a charge around them now, an electrical current, live and dangerous between them.

Finally, Villain swallows and talks. "Let me just...let me just treat your wounds, and we can talk about this later." They manage.

Hero just nods as Villain returns to their first aid kit, ignoring the spark and air of tension now between them.

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

i for once want to get the opinion of a "rational" jikooker who knows how to take a step back and take certain things for what they are and i wanna know your opinion or interpretation of jikook in chap2 and them not meeting and also that conversation they had in the car about that please.

And you thought I'm that rational person? Funny.

You know, there's something I always disliked about being in this fandom space. I mean, there's plenty of other things, don't get me wrong, but this one in particular really irks me. It's the need for approval, for confirmation of one's thoughts. There's a severe lack of independent thought. It might be hidden under apparent strong opinions, but when you look at how those opinions are spread to anon messaging to bloggers everyday, that's a sign that the complete opposite happens.

Jikook as a kpop ship always has to be questioned. At this point, I think it's part of its narrative as a ship. But what's curious (and stupid) is that the hardest line of questioning comes from the ones who consider themselves interested/curious. But make no mistake, this is not done for the sake of not becoming delusional and discard any rational thought. It happens because of the need for approval.

You sent me this ask because you hope for me to agree with your own thoughts about jikook and what that conversation in the car means. Not for them actually, but for you. And you're not the only person. A sure sign of fandom insanity is debating for over 2 weeks now a conversation that is not only heavily editated, it is mediated as well. It takes place in the context of a show for fans in which participants are two people who will never reveal everything about their lives. And on top of that, there's an intentional need to ignore that people can speak in hyperbole, that people can ommit or say one thing that actually means more or another that only the other person is capable of understanding the nuances of that.

Communication is complex. We do know that because we engage with it everyday. Except we forget all that the moment we have to talk about this specific ship. We forget a lot of things about human behavior, relationships, etc. It is an intentional act. So we start writing fanfictions. We start making relationship timelines. We start taking about temporary or definitive break ups of a ship that hasn't even been confirmed as a couple. At this point, shippers operate into this alternative universe sphere, canon adjacent but instead of doing it on ao3, they use their blogs and anon messages for that. But hey, fanfics on ao3 are a lot of the times the work of talented writers, while 500-1000 words essays on tumblr are simply a complete waste of time after the first paragraph.

Is this what you would consider a rational perspective? Or should I start writing down a timeline of all the times in which JM and JK have met in "Chapter 2" up until NY in July? (As if in reality their lives are actually separated that clearly, as if a break in band work completely defines their personal lives, jesus christ!). So, should I note down all the public events that they've been to? And to draw a conclusion from it to prove or disprove that the amount of times they've seen each other is reflective or not of what they said in the car when they left for their trip? Of course, we should ignore that there's an entire life outside of what we see.

And that's the thing, you know? We all supposedly agree that they actually share little of their lives with their fans, but practically? The fandom doesn't really give a shit. Because of the classic parasocial relationship we have developed that makes us believe we know everything there is to know.

What we are allowed to see and what we hear from whispers here and there should allow us to realize that no theory over a supposed relationship is better than the other. Believing they are just friends, that they have broken up, that they are fwb and so on is in no way more rational that believing they are together.

What does this mean? If none of us are wiser? It means we have a choice. Some are choosing to be losers or little bitches crying in anon asks about their "insecurities" over a ship. Some are choosing to look at this ship as a duo that includes two people who have really good chemistry and who match each other's freak.

I've always been in the latter category, I thought that was obvious and I've said it before. If one day Jimin makes a public statement that he's marrying the love of his life, a sweet girl that is also the mother of his 5 secret children, then so be it. And if one day, Jungkook shows up one day after he decided to run away and join a bike gang where he met his boyfriend, then so be it. If somehow that next day, a jikook clip would turn up on my tl in which Jimin is brushing his teeth while straddling Jungkook, my reaction would be "well, jikook fuck. Often". You know why? Because for me, the public life of stars and what they choose to share is entertainment. A travel show, a wlive, concerts, these are all forms of entertainment. I do not consume my entertainment by being a loser on the internet, pondering if my assessment over two people might be fucking is real or not or is approved by other people.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA/WIBTA for attempting to learn ASL for a girl I like?

I work at a bar right off campus of my university and regularly perform (sing) when there aren't enough performers or acts to get us through a night. I like singing and making a big show, so this is fun for me. Also, this bar isn't strictly a queer/sapphic bar, but a lot of us are WLW and it's pretty well known around town so performing definitely gets me a lot of attention from a pretty quiet part of the queer community, if that makes any sense.

Anyways, there's this girl who also works at the bar, I'll call her Bri, and she's deaf. She's pretty good at reading lips, so we've had conversations before, but really we just see each other around. She works in the back on like numbers and business stuff (I honestly have no idea what she does) but she'll come out and watch me perform sometimes. She has such a nice smile and the way she's able to focus and pay such apt attention to anything she needs to is so inspiring. Basically, I like her a lot.

I live in the Inland Empire, so getting ASL lessons was super easy. I've been going since the semester started a little over a month ago and I'm really proud of the progress I've made. I haven't attempted to talk to Bri yet, I want to get better, but I've talked to some of my friends/coworkers about how I'm learning ASL for her and am planning on doing a live ASL interpretation of Oh Darling by the Beatles when I get good enough (Bri commented that she liked my performance of the song, so I wanted to bring it back.)

Jesus Christ this is long anyways I was telling people about my plan thinking they'd compliment me for being cute and romantic and like try to help me surprise her but instead, everyone told me I was being insensitive to her disability and tokening her by making her deaf-ness so central to my attraction to her. I didn't think I was doing this, I thought this was more of a gesture to show how I like her despite our communication barrier? I don't know, I've started really overthinking it.

Another thing I've started wondering is if doing this performance (which I've already started working on) would be manipulative since I've never outright asked Bri if she likes me, even though I'm 1000% sure she does, she asks about me and we get along and yeah I'm really sure she does but I guess I don't know for absolute sure so on the chance that she doesn't like me, would this whole thing be a way of me pressuring her into liking me since I've put so much effort in without telling her?

I'm really lost. I really like this girl and I want to do something big and grand. I've also really fallen in love with American Sign Language and the process of learning it. The idea of making Bri uncomfortable because I don't know what it's like to be deaf/have a disability is really making me rethink all of this. Any advice please.

What are these acronyms?

[lunaefall]

The Red Flags of Ruby's Suicidality Throughout The Volume

It should be obvious, but this short essay will cover heavy subjects of suicide, so if you're uncomfortable with this subject matter please don't read this.

The first red flag was in episode 4, where Ruby contemplated erasing her current self due to her failures, after talking to her 'past self'.

This gets reinforced by the lyrics of Trapdoor, which is about how worthless and unneeded Ruby feels.

One common mindset among suicidal people is this: what if I'm useless? What if my friends don't need me anymore? What if they don't care about me? What if I'll keep ruining everything? Would the world be better without me?

Suicidal people are usually full of self-loathing and blame.

Even in the episode 7 fight Ruby felt useless after seeing C-PTSD red flags (they're not Neo hallucinations because she didn't see the Schnee manor grounds struggle with hacked Penny). In her eyes, the others are fighting well without her, so she's useless.

Another set of red flags is snapping at your loved ones, pushing them away and driving yourself into isolation. We see ALL these in episodes 7 and 8, with Ruby snapping at her friends and running away, and even pushing Little away.

And on top of it she feels like her friends don't care, the world is against her, etc. which is YET another red flag.

(Massive disclaimer that this is NOT anti WBY and they, especially Yang, tried to reach out to her throughout the volume.)

I'd like to mention that if your loved one attempts and you tried to help but couldn't do it, it is NOT your fault. We're not all experts and we try our best, so do not ever blame yourself for these things.

It's not uncommon for suicidal people to refuse help, and on top of it Ruby has always been selfless to self destructive levels.

And the last thing, her self blame over her loved ones dying. While Penny and Pyrrha were apparitions, they still reflected her self blame. And Little dying? The final straw.

So her suicide attempt in the end was being built up all volume.

All I can say is that I hope Ruby somehow gets rescued and also recovers from her mental health problems because JESUS CHRIST.

This was a bit hard for me to write, especially as someone with BPD and frequent suicidal tendencies. This topic hits hard for me. However, I'm not an expert and this post shouldn't be taken as gospel. There may be details even I missed, so feel free to add your own observations.

And remember that if you are suicidal as well, you're not alone. You'll always have people who care about you, and resources to help out.

[bloodwrittenballad]

Satisfaction Guaranteed | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader x Jake Seresin

Summary: Maybe tipsy, tmi confessions aren’t so bad after all

Warnings: Smut, threesome, oral, pnv, swearing, mentions of drinking, readers call-sign is maze, use of the pet name baby like a lot, not proofread. wrote this on a whim. a horny whim. 18+ ONLY, NO MINORS. Please, don’t be a silent reader. Feedback is highly appreciated, so are reblog. Let me know what you think! And if you would like to see more of these three! Enjoy, and happy reading ;)

You should really stop talking.

No, seriously, you need to stop talking. The more you say, the worse it gets. You’re a few drinks in and then bam! Suddenly you’ve decided to spill your guts out - not literally, thankfully - to your two best pals. Jake Seresin and Bradley Bradshaw. Two of the hottest and greatest men you knew had now heard every single thing they ever needed about your sex life. Or, well, lack there of. “Yeah and like, noooone of my exes ever wanted to go down on me. Not one! B-but I’m expected to give them head?! How unfair is that!” You hiccuped, as you dug yourself deeper into a hole.

But what was worse, was that they weren’t even stopping you. Maybe the alcohol was hindering their better judgment too? Either way, you were never going to come back from this. The shit eating smirks on their face and the looks they shared - the ones they thought you wouldn’t notice - only made you feel like more of an idiot as you finally began to rein in your pitiful rambling. “Oh, god, I totally just ruined the mood? Didn’t I?” You said in an embarrassed little squeak, face falling into your hands as you tried to hide from their piercing gaze. “Actually, Maze, I think you just heightened the mood.” Jake said, his voice low. You looked up, hands falling back down to your side as you caught Bradley’s eyes. Maybe it was the one too many drinks you consumed, or the sexual frustration that has been building up for months, but something in the way he was looking at you… fuck, it made you feel like a giddy teenager after a first date.

“Ya know, Maze, I think Hangman is right. I also think you’re right,” Rooster began. He noticed the way your eyes lingered on his face, more particularly, his lips… You gave him a look of confusion, nodding for him to continue. “It is unfair that no one’s repaid the favor of going down on you. Hell, it’s a downright shame.” Oh Christ almighty, you had to be imagining this. There was no way he was actually saying this right now. You could just die of embarrassment right now. “But I’m thinking that could change tonight, if you want it to.”

Okay what? This really, truly could not be happening. “I- Um- Huh?” You barely managed to get out, and Jake chuckled at your response. If now was the time for teasing, he’d say you looked like a fish out of water, with the way your eyes were wide and your mouth hung open as you tried to form words. But, Hangman was feeling nice, so he decided to help you out. “I think what Rooster here is trying to get at, is that he’d like to show you what you’ve been missin’ out on. I would too,” He said with a wink. Jesus fuck.

“Y-you b-both wanna…” you trailed of. “Fuck you? Yeah, darlin’. We do. Real bad, too.” As if Jake couldn’t get any cockier already, this was only feeding in to his attitude even more. “So, Maze, what do you say? How about you let Hangman and I show you how it’s done? Satisfaction guaranteed.” Rooster chimed in with a wink, and if you couldn’t feel your heart racing at a thousand miles per hour, you would’ve figured you died and gone to heaven.

“Okay,” you said. Maybe a little desperately, but hey, they offered.

And that’s how you found yourself in this moment now, with Bradley between your legs as Jake held you against his chest. His strong, tan arms around you for support as you rested your head against his shoulders and moaned out. “Fuck! Bradley, right there!” You cried out, feeling his mustache burning roughly on the soft skin of your inner thighs. It was glorious, like nothing you felt before. Well, really, it was nothing you felt before. But it definitely wasn’t like how you imagined it, or even read about. No, this was so much better. “You like that, baby? Does it feel so good, getting that pretty, needy little pussy taken care of after so long?” Jake hummed low in your ear.

“Yes! Fuck yes! So good!” Moaning out loudly, your thighs clenching around Bradley’s head. Bradley chuckled against your pussy, the sensation only bringing you closer to relief. “You gettin’ close, baby? You gonna come on my tongue?” Bradley asked, bringing his hot mouth away from your wet pussy for just a moment to ask, but still working you with his thick fingers. You nodded, the shine of the sweat on your forehead was like a beacon as he caught sight of your face and the pleasure that was painted on it.

“I’m s’close,” you managed to get out. The grip you had on Jake arms only tightened when Bradley’s mustache made contact with your clit. Dipping your head back in a moan, Jake attached himself to the skin of your neck. Licking, sucking, kissing any and every square inch he possibly could. “Come for me, baby. Come on my tongue, I know you want to.” Bradley encouraged you, his mouth still moving on you so quickly as you approached the heavenly gates of orgasmic bliss, before coming. And hard. “Fuck, shit, oh my God!” you moaned out, swears tumbling from your mouth as your body shook with your release. “That’s it, that’s our good little baby,” Jake spoke into your ear. His words of encouragement not stopping until you touched back down to earth again

And when you finally let out a heavy breath and opened your eyes, that’s when you noticed. Bradley, still sat on the edge of the bed and between your legs, was soaking wet. And the look on his face, was priceless. “Good God, baby, look at the mess you made,” Jake said in a laugh as he looked down at Bradley, who was still looking at you in complete awe. “Damn, baby,” said Rooster as he licked his lips. “I didn’t know you could do that,” you didn’t know either. You’ve never squirted before, but somehow Bradley managed to completely change your world in a matter of seconds. “I-I didn’t either,” you spoke. “That was-” you began, but the two men cut you off.

“So hot,” they said. “Yeah,” you said in a breathy laugh. “You ready for more?” Jake asked, and that’s when you could feel it. His hard on, pressing right against your lower back. “Because I still haven’t gotten my turn, and if Bradshaw can get you to react like that, you can only imagine the things that I’ll do.”

And thus, is how found yourself, yet again, being completely and totally lost in the pleasurable thralls of your two fellow aviators fucking you. Jakes cock was buried deep in you, reaching places no one had before, as Bradley sucked on your neck and toyed with your tits and clit. The room was hot and heavy, filled with moans and skin slapping skin all around as you came once again that night. Yeah, it was safe to say that satisfied was definitely guaranteed.

[waddleonmywaywardducks]

Something I would just like to get off my chest...

Literally I just want to talk my shit. This is just SOME of the shit I'm tired of seeing in my community.

I grew up in a extremely god-fearing Christian home. Most of my childhood years where spent in a church or with my nose stuck into a Bible. It was horrible. When I was 10, I was opened to the world of magic and slowly I realized that what I was reading could be true. I began to research as much as I could and now here we are. But anyways, as I began to expand my craft, I start to find myself with people who also practice!

My first experience with the shit talk in my community was from a witch who came from a long line of witches and claimed they were more powerful then me bc of that....I've never seen them practice or even attempt to practice....and their mother is a wiccan....ok yeah sure ☠️ like first off, literally I don't care, I don't care if your mother is a witch, I don't care that "you are the granddaughter of the witches they didn't burn" ☠️☠️ you can miss me with that. Second off, because they claimed to be a more powerful witch they said they could "mentor" me and teach me the "right ways" and when I said no they then told me I would never be powerful and that they would curse me....where's that curse at girlie???? I do not care for power. I do not care for control. I just want to find harmony with myself and the world.

The second experience I had, AND I KNOW EVERYONE. EVERYONE. HAD THIS HAPPEN TO THEM, was the "I've been practicing for x amount of years so....Im actually better then you" I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU. I do not give a fuck how long you have been practicing. Here's a real question, why do you, a "experienced" witch, feel the need to invalidate new witches, when your practice is all your own? Are you really practicing if you feel the need to scare and fearmonger newer witches? Why not help them?I remember I was at such and loss starting out because no one would tell me, they would be like "how could you not know that?!?!" Or "I would NEVER make that mistake" it's ok to make mistakes, fuck man 8 years later and I still make mistakes. Also, Witchcraft communities have always been about communicating, when looking for where to began, young witches would TURN TO THEIR ELDERS. Why have we driven away from that? Idk I just feel like if you feel the need to invalidate newer witches, you aren't actually secure in your own practice. So are you really better then me? Or are you just worried I'll become more "powerful" then you?

And I know we've all gone through the "I have the most expensive herbs so my spells are way more powerful" just say you love capitalism ☠️☠️ LMFAOOO the witches I see on tiktok are like the over consumption final boss like holy shit. I literally get everything I need from the forest outside my house, I literally haven't bought anything for my practice in like months because I put my time and energy into what I create for my deities, spells, and rituals. And honestly, Ive had way better results because of it. You don't need all this big fancy stuff, just get started with what you have. Make it your own.

Instead of doing all this, mind your business, stay to YOUR craft, and if someone asks for help you can give them what you can. Literally just be a nice person Jesus fucking Christ. Just be a nice person. The entire reason I made this blog was for witches who needed someone to push them in the right direction. This post was me talking shit, if you feel called out....then consider this a sign to try to be better, there's always a chance to start again. And also, in no way am I bashing witches who come from a long line of witches, that shit is cool as hell, I'm just saying when you use it just to be cool and not practice, bc i hate to break it to you but if you don't practice like at all, not even attempt to start, then you aren't a witch my guy im sorry being born into a witch family doesn't automatically make you a witch, you have to carve that shit out for yourself. But anyways it's 1am I'm tired I honestly have no idea why I wrote this. Ok bye.

[softpascalito]

I To Dig a Grave I Chapter 3 I

Summary: Twenty-one years after the outbreak, you come to Wyoming looking for something and end up in Jackson after a stranger saves your life.

But he doesn't stay a stranger.

Turns out Joel Miller is looking for something too. It feels like a fresh start. But when bad luck seems to follow you, Joel is the only one to turn to, forcing both of you to confront your feelings about your pasts- and each other.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 12k+ Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Smut, Explicit Content, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Chose not to use Archive Warnings, Tags to be added

AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist // Playlist

notes: very excited for this chapter because you guys finally get to see what a big part of fic will deal with. keeping everyone who reads on in my prayers <3 (you'll need it)

i've also added a small playlist for this fic. in case you'd like to dive in the link is above!

this fic will deal with heavy topics. please note that it doesn't use archive warnings and tags will be added as we go in order to avoid spoilers. each chapter will have detailed warnings in the end notes on ao3.

Chapter 3 - The Sky

‘‘The sky here’s very strange. I often have the sensation when I look at it that it's a solid thing up there, protecting us from what’s behind.’ ‘But what is behind?’ Her voice was very small. ‘Nothing, I suppose. Just darkness. Absolute night.’’

- Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky

The body is resting against the only intact wall of the cabin, to Joel's left. Propped up next to the fireplace, the scene around it leaving no doubt about the finality of it. Blue hair drenched in red, thick liquid pooling below and running through the crevices of the weathered and beaten wood.

He barely registers Tommy’s footsteps behind him nor that they come to a sudden halt.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath. 

Joel is the one that steps forward, kneeling down next to the fireplace, his hand gently reaching out to touch the pale skin of her hand. “She’s already cold. Must’ve been a few hours,” he whispers, his voice dangerously close to cracking.

“We need to alert the others. What if these guys are already at the gates? Maria has no clue-”

“Tommy-” Joel gently tries to stop the rambling of his brother, but he can't bring himself to take his eyes off her. But the other man is barely listening, his feet shuffling anxiously as he reaches for his rifle.

“Joel, goddamn it, I mean it. Get up. They may be waiting for the moment to attack-”

“There is no attack,” Joel says, again, and his voice feels too calm for what he’s implying. 

He stalls for a moment, the realization coming to him that he’s gotten too good at this. He’s gotten too good at being in the presence of death, likely better than he ever has been in the presence of people.

He carefully leans forward, using his free hand to gently push the fabric of her hoodie out of the way, glancing down at the wound and giving a small nod. He doesn't need to see the way Tommy’s shoulders fall. He feels the air shift as his brother comes to the conclusion Joel has found much faster. They both know why he got there quicker. Takes one to know one.

“Why would she-” Tommy breaks off, turning his gaze away from the thing he doesn't understand. “I don't know,” Joel mutters under his breath. It hasn't hit him yet, the full force of what this means. Of the consequences it will draw. “We need to get her back to Jackson.” But he can’t really focus on that. Not when he has your best friend’s lifeless body next to him without a clue where you are.

“Do you think-” There's a heavy pause. “Did she do this alone?” Tommy asks, placing his rifle next to the door and beginning to look around the cabin for something useful.

Joel immediately knows what he's asking. But he shakes his head. “I don't think she would have- There's no sign anyone else was here.”

His head is spinning, screaming at him to do the one thing he knows. He needs to find you.

And then he doesn't. Because before they can even begin to move the body, he can hear hooves approaching outside. He recognizes the fast gallop of your horse even before you call their names.

“Lane?! Joel?! Tommy?!” Your lungs hurt from calling them. It was easy enough to follow the tracks, spurring your own horse on much more than you dared on any patrol so far. The mare almost seems relieved when you reach the two other horses and you slide off her back in one quick motion.

It's at the same moment that the door flies open, Joel crossing the small veranda in a few strides. You freeze in your tracks. “Where-?” The words die in your throat. Joel carefully makes his way towards you, his steps slow and controlled. Your eyes fly to his hands. They’re bloody. He has almost reached you when you find his eyes again. There is a gentleness in them that confuses you for a split second.

And then it all makes sense. You don't want the blood, you don't want that look in his eyes, you don't want any of it once you realize what it means.

“No.” Your voice comes out all wrong and you don't know if he heard you. If anyone can.

“It's okay. Come here,” Joel mumbles as he reaches you, carefully sneaking his arm around you. He tries to pull you close and he's not sure whether it's for your or his sake. Maybe both.

“No. Joel, where is she?”

He shushes you again, readying himself to catch you if your knees give out, his grip around you tightening ever so slightly.

Joel Miller has come to know you fairly well over the past years. At least he likes to think he does and you've rarely caught him off guard. But today you do.

“Where is she?!” Your knees don't give out. Not even close. They bend just enough for you to slip past the broad man in front of you, taking off with a run towards the door of the cabin.

It takes him a second to register what has happened. Then, he’s storming after you as fast as his legs will allow him.

“Tommy!” he yells out, hoping that if he won't be able to stop you, at least his brother will. But it's he who catches up with you just as you take the first step onto the veranda, roughly pulling you back by your arm, hard enough that it sends both of you tumbling to the floor.

He barely registers the way the wooden step digs into his ribs and knocks the air out of his lungs. Instead, his fingers stay tightly wrapped around your arm. “Fucking let go, Joel! Let me see her!”

He doesn't know what to say. He can't tell you that he simply can't. That it would stay with you forever, even more than this will anyway.

“Come here,” he just repeats weakly, bringing his other arm around to pull you in. One of your knees is bleeding, your jeans ripped open where you hit the floor with full force. Joel makes a mental note to clean the wound later.

Your body is trembling much harder than you thought possible as you let Joel pull you into his arms. It has nothing to do with the cold. You don't even feel like you're able to recognize temperature. An absurd concept, that your body would adjust to any of it, that it would ever stop shaking and trembling. Joel's arms feel like he's all around you, wrapping his body around yours, sheltering you from what is only a few feet away. 

Your lungs that were burning just a minute ago seem to not be a part of you anymore. They in- and exhale in their own rhythm, one that feels too fast and too slow all at once. You hear Joel muttering into your ear, but you can't make out the words. Your cheeks are wet. You don't know why.

The world dissolves around you and you briefly wonder if you’re dying. It's not a shocking idea that gets you up and fighting. You wonder about death the same way you would about whether or not they have soap at the store. The world has almost gone dark when you realize you are not, in fact, dying. But, even as the strength leaves your muscles and you collapse against the body next to you, you are aware that something has.

***

You regain consciousness, just for a moment. There is a steady rise and fall around you and at first you think it's your lungs expanding and deflating. But as you open your eyes enough to catch a glimpse of your surroundings, they move. Up and down. Slow and steady.

You're on horseback, pressed against a broad chest that has to be Joel’s. His arms are pulling you tightly into him, keeping you upright, making sure you won't fall off. You don't think you could bring yourself to care. It probably wouldn't even hurt. In fact, every part of your body should hurt with the way you were running earlier, with how you fell onto the stairs, bone crunching as it took the blow to your side. But oddly enough, it feels like you're floating, like your mind is far away from your body and equally far away from Joel. There is a disconnect, a faulty wire. One that simmers, undetected, till it snaps one random afternoon and sets the whole house on fire.

You still feel like you’re drifting in and out of consciousness when the movement below you slows and you feel yourself being lifted down by strong, steady arms. They are a constant around you, a shield that protects you from what is beyond.

Word about your disappearances has traveled fast but not fast enough for no one to ask any questions. There have rarely been any runaways in Jackson, except for the occasional teenagers who usually show up again the day after- and the couple last year. The bodies Joel had found in the abandoned hotel. Why was he always the one to find them?

People approach, some calling out to the odd group arriving. Tommy leading both horses and shushing those who call out to them while Joel holds you close, staring down anyone who so much as tries to approach him.

“I’ll go and fetch Maria and we can-” Tommy pauses, his gaze wandering from his brother's face to the curled up body below it. He can't bring himself to say it. Not like this, not in front of you. 

Joel gives a curt nod, understanding. “Tell Maria we're at my place. And-” A small sigh escapes his lips. “Make sure she arranges for a group immediately.”

The younger man swallows hard and turns away. Infected will happily devour any meat they're given, no matter if they've hunted it down themselves. He doesnt think he could bear going back and finding a scene like that. His steps speed up.

You only catch glimpses of the people around you, words being whispered, conversations being started and then abruptly breaking off. And you still feel light, so light that you think you could just float away, disappear into the blue until you’d reach the horizon and whatever lies beyond. But you're wrapped in the dark leather coat that keeps sliding off your shoulders, wrapped in Joel’s arms, and so it won't happen. He won't let you float away. 

For all you know, all of the sounds and glimpses could be figments of your imagination, something like a dream or a fleeting memory of a book you’ve read as a child, one that you remember the cover and smell of, remember that it made you feel something, and yet, the story won't come to mind anymore. Above all, this can be, needs to be, something that is unreal. Because otherwise, you dont think you’ll be able to get through it.

You don't move. You let Joel carry you down Rancher Street, you let him nudge your head further into his chest as you realize you must be passing the corner of the graveyard. It seems impossible that you walked by it just a few hours ago, with your mind on the library and which exams to set and dinner this weekend. It all feels like a lifetime ago, a memory that doesn't belong to you but rather someone else.

The morning fog sunk back into the earth hours ago, the rays of the sun forcing it to clear. The sky above you feels close enough to touch, a vibrant and comforting shade of blue spanning from the tops of the wooden houses to the mountains in the distance.

You were just a baby when your father put up a swing in your backyard, strong ropes tied to the branch of an old oak tree. You must have heard the story a million times. Him, getting out his tools while you were watching from your blanket on the grass, not quite able to move your head on your own yet. But he insisted that your large eyes followed him around, contently staying where you were as he worked. 

You didn't understand, when hearing him talk about it, why he'd build a swing for someone too small to play on it. It only set in years later that he'd simply been that excited to bring home a little daughter and build something for her and fill the backyard with children's and adults' laughter alike.

That evening, he put you on his lap, one arm securely wrapped around the tiny form that was your body then, gently moving both of you back and forth. You’d fallen asleep almost instantly.

It became your favorite spot, and the way he talked about it years after you had left the house and the garden behind, it had been his too. You loved kicking your feet or spurring your father on to push you harder, watching as your legs soared towards the blue sky.

It seemed to you, back then, that you were miles above the ground, imagining what it'd be like to let go and drift off into the sky, to go up, up, up until your house would be nothing more than a small square below you, surrounded by green.

Joel carries you into the living room. He doesn't seem to want to leave you alone. And he seems restless.

He gets on his knees in front of you, soft brown eyes taking in your face. You avoid meeting them, curling further into the couch. His lips are moving but you can’t hear what he says.

After a few moments pass, you can tell he’s waiting for a response so you nod, almost in slow motion. He seems satisfied with that, saying something else before getting dinner started. It probably smells good, but you don't think you know good anymore.

You get through two potatoes, a bit of salad and chicken before you push your chair back, hurrying down the hallway as Joel scrambles after you.

You make it to the bathroom just in time, falling to your knees in front of the toilet as your stomach begins emptying itself. A sharp pain shoots through the knee that collided with the stairs of the cabin earlier. At the thought of the cabin, another wave of sickness hits you. It's violent, the way your throat convulses, your body trying to empty itself of whatever is inside.

But there is no purging the things inside of you. The thoughts and the memories and the images- god, the images. Lane, hunched over a table. Lane, holding a knife while you make dinner. Lane, laughing. Lane, placing a gun to her head. Lane, crying.

The steady flow of scenarios provided by your brain is broken by another wave of nausea, even though this time it is just dry heaving, your stomach already empty. Your head is not.

You don't hear the rushed footsteps behind you, but you feel the calloused hands pulling your hair out of the way and rubbing your back.

“There you go, get it all out,” Joel coos quietly. It's not his fault. That he doesn't immediately connect the dots as you start sobbing, choking for air. The sobs, your lungs demanding air, your stomach blocking the way, clearly insistent on getting everything out of your system.

You’re positive that the noises coming out of your mouth do not sound like yourself or, for that matter, sound human at all. They're a mix of gasping and heaving, back and forth, as your fingers clench around the toilet seat so hard you feel like it may break.

Joel is very lost and very determined not to let you notice. He has never seen you in this much pain, not when he washed you in the bathroom upstairs nor when you were seconds away from being ripped apart by an Infected. He cannot know that on the first night spent with Lane you were hunched over a toilet just like this, throwing up the blueberry muffins that had been too much for your starved stomach to handle. He cannot know she held your hair like he holds it now, fingers firmly wrapped around it, occasionally sweeping a loose strand behind your ear.

You're not sure how long you sit there like this, the cold tiles uncomfortably pressing into Joel's already sore knees, when he carefully leans you against the wall as he fetches a few towels, letting the water run until it's warm, to wet one of them and wipe your face.

His eyes fly over your features, concern etched into every part of his face. You weakly try and raise your arm to take the towel from him, unwilling to just sit and watch. But he shakes his head firmly, his gaze determined. “Let me, okay? You just focus on breathing.”

As he reaches for another towel, you feel your empty stomach filling again. With a heavy, uncomfortable guilt, one you wish you could throw right back up. Tears shoot into your eyes again but this time Joel doesn't hesitate.

“What's going on? Tell me what you're thinking,” he mutters, his thumb brushing over the side of your face as his other hand uses the towel to dab over your chin, carefully wiping the remainder of the vomit away.

“I wasted your food,” you half-whisper, your voice raw. Joel's face falls, for a moment.

“Nothing is ever wasted on you, you hear me?” he mumbles quietly, moving on to wipe your cheek. “I can always make more.”

He doesn't seem to mind that you cry again at that.

***

It must be past midnight when you wake up the next time. The room is only dimly lit now, and a blanket is tucked around you, your eyes facing the worn-out fabric of the couch Joel set you down on earlier. Earlier feels very far away.

You turn, slowly, glad to find that your stomach seems to decide to give it a rest for now. It still lurches slightly as you squint into the dining room, seeing two figures hunched over the wooden table.

“Joel?” you try to call his name, quietly, but your throat feels dry and the word turns into a cough instead. Your fingers rub your throat, willing it to calm down and relax, as Joel appears in front of you, kneeling down beside the couch and offering you a glass of water. You nod your thanks, using both hands to bring it to your mouth and take a few sips.

“Better?” He hums softly, taking the glass back. You give another nod. If he minds the non-verbal communication, he doesn’t let it show. Instead he turns around, returning with the glass refilled. You gratefully accept it again.

It's only after he's placed it onto the small coffee table that your eyes land on Tommy, leaning against the wooden column separating the two rooms as he watches the scene in front of him. He gives you a swift nod when your eyes meet and something that seems like it was supposed to be a smile but, given the circumstances, fails miserably.

Joel motions for him to come closer. “Come on, it's- have a seat.” Their eyes meet and they seem to communicate silently, no doubt continuing the conversation where they left off.

Tommy sits down. He shuffles his feet, his fingers anxiously tapping the lid of a plastic container that holds some food. Courtesy of Maria, no doubt. Joel takes the spot next to you on the couch and you inch towards him, glad for any kind of support even though you have no clue what is about to happen.

“We- We’re still trying to piece everything together,” Tommy says, his voice quiet and solemn. You tense ever so slightly, listening intently. You're not sure you want to know how or why or any of the other details that will undoubtedly make this more real.

“There was a note in- with her,” he goes on, seemingly choosing his words very carefully. “She said she left you a letter, back at home.” Your eyes automatically fly to Tommy’s sides, half expecting him to pull a piece of paper out of his pocket. He seems to notice your train of thought.

“We're still going through her room, just to make sure- we just want to be certain this happened the way she says it did,” he finishes quietly. You can feel two pairs of eyes on you, but you just nod. Of course. Someone could’ve murdered her and staged it as a suicide. Somehow, that idea didn’t cross your mind. Maybe because you don't think anyone could ever truly hate Lane nearly enough to wish her harm or maybe simply because you already seem to feel in your stomach that her life ended on her own terms.

Joel and Tommy exchange a few glances until Joel awkwardly clears his throat and reaches out to take the plastic container from him. “I'll put this in the fridge.”

The younger brother keeps his eyes on you as you listen to Joel rummaging in the kitchen. His hand awkwardly reaches for your shoulder, hovering above it for a moment before patting it lightly. “I'm so sorry, kid.”

“Thanks, Tommy,” you manage to press out, your own gaze fixed on the opposite wall. You don't want to see the look again, the same one Joel had back at the cabin. In fact, you think you may never want anyone to look at you ever again.

You're still staring at the same spot when the two men head towards the front door a few minutes later. Their voices are low and they must be standing half outside, if the cold creeping into the house is anything to go by. You know their words are not meant for your ears but you still stay absolutely still, listening.

“I’ll bring the letter by tomorrow, okay? Let her get it over with,” Tommy mumbles and you think you hear him shuffling his feet again.

“Yeah, yeah, you do that,” Joel responds, equally quiet. There is a moment of silence. They haven't had a moment to talk about all this, for Joel to consider if he of all people should be the one to take care of you. 

Tommy seems to think along the same lines, even though you can't begin to guess the depth of their seemingly simple words.

“Are you okay to-?” 

Joel gives a shaky nod. “Yeah, ‘ts fine. She needs someone and- Ellie’s staying with Dina for a few days, until we've figured things out.”

Tommy doesn't know what to say. He carefully takes in Joel's face, or at least what he can make out of it in the dim light of the porch. He goes for a hug instead, wrapping his arms around his brother for a fleeting moment, a hand rubbing over the older man's back. “Either of you need anything, we're all here.”

His voice has dropped enough for you not to overhear the last part.

Maybe it's because Joel's own hearing is bad, but he doesn't seem to realize you've been listening when he comes back into the room a few moments later. “I'm sure they'll be done tomorrow. But we should all try and get some sleep now.” He takes a step towards you, gently running his hand over the top of your head. “I put some fresh sheets onto the bed upstairs while you were out. I don't want ya sleeping on the couch.”

You're too tired and exhausted to protest. Besides, you know it would be a waste of time. So you let him help you upstairs, let him wait right outside the bathroom door as you brush your teeth and let him tuck you into bed, the soft sheets a stark contrast against your dirty and scratched up skin. Joel looks down at you for a moment, his fingers tapping against his leg.

“Do you want me to stay here?”

It's almost embarrassing how fast you jump onto the offer, nodding as you finally meet his eyes again. He looks concerned and sad and you hate that you're the cause of it. But you also want his company, more than anything.

Joel turns off the lights and climbs into bed with you shortly afterwards. He’s changed into pajamas, made up of a pair of brown plaid pants and a cream-colored, worn shirt. Compared to you, he actually looks put together. You can see his outline beside you, the candle on his nightstand the only source of light left in the room. It gives everything a dim, orange glow, distantly reminding you of a sunset.

You're suddenly aware of how very heavy your head feels, far too heavy to be held up by your neck. There are too many thoughts in there, you think, they don’t have enough room to breathe. Or to make sense. The faulty wires are back. And they keep your synapses from connecting correctly. Nothing makes sense. 

‘We just want to be certain this happened the way she says it did.’

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice comes out small and still, it seems too loud in the quiet around you.

“Anything,” comes the response, equally quiet even though Joel's voice sounds more steady than yours. You ponder your words for a few moments and you feel him shift beside you, propping his head up on one arm to get a better look at your face. “What is it, darlin’?”

“They brought her back to Jackson, right?”

Joel seems to consider his words for a moment, then he nods slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, they did.” Even in the dim light, you can feel his eyes on you, searching your face. You turn your face away from him, staring at the stacked records in the corner instead.

“Why would someone go through all that trouble? Bringing her so far out?” The words coming out of your mouth seem as much a surprise to you as they are to Joel. You can hear him suck in a breath beside you. The mattress dips below his weight as he sits up.

“Can you look at me for a moment?”

You obey, turning your head and resting your cheek against your shoulder. You can see Joel's face above you. He looks like he's about to cry. You must be very tired, you think to yourself. Joel Miller doesn't cry.

Before your eyes and mind can drift away again, he swallows and speaks up again, the southern drawl in his voice more present than ever.

“Honey- No one made her go.”

His words are slow, carefully chosen. He knows he is treading a fine line here.

“She did it herself, darlin’.” A small frown has spread over his face, his eyebrows knitted together. “I told you earlier, downstairs. Don’t you remember?”

You shake your head, painfully aware that the gentleness in his tone is back, the same one he’s had earlier at the cabin. You think you know all the things he’s telling you, but you can’t recall Joel saying it. The picture of him in front of the couch appears before your eyes, but you can’t make out the words coming out of his mouth. Again, you find yourself surprised that you're the one who speaks instead.

“Did anyone check her?” 

He pauses at that, the frown deepening. “What do you mean?” 

You take a small breath, your fingers pulling at a loose thread of the sheets below you. “I mean, did they check if she's really-” You pull a little harder and the thread breaks, the thin piece of fabric remaining in your palm.

You wonder if they have wrapped her up yet. If someone’s put fresh clothes on her. If anyone has checked her pulse.

“What if she's not dead?”

“I need you to listen to me.” His voice is slightly more urgent now. “I saw her. And she's gone. I'm so sorry and I wish she wasn't and I know-” His voice comes dangerously close to breaking but he only gives a tiny shake of his head and presses on.

“I know how difficult this must be but you need to understand this. She's gone. She's not coming back.”

if you enjoyed the chapter, please consider reblogging/sharing or commenting, i promise it will be the highlight of my day <3

[jayden-killer]

Hi!

I love your stories, could you make one where the reader is dating Miguel and is also a part of the spider community. The reader helps Miles to escape and Miguel finds out and argue with her.

I hope that you will keep writing stories.

Have a great day !

omg omg hii! I'm so glad you enjoy my stories, receiving these types of compliments always make my day :DD. And, i deeply apologise for taking this long to write your request; I've been so busy with my uni exams.. Anyways, here's your story!!

I HATE TO FIGHT YOU. (Miguel O'Hara × gn!reader)

warnings: Angst to light sfw (at the end)???, Miguel expressing his anger by literally destroying his lab lmao, VERY LONG ONE SHOT.

☆

Superpowers aren’t easy.

So it wasn’t a relationship with the leader of the Spider Society. Miguel was not an easy guy to argue with, you might call him stubborn, which was one of his main features. And even when Miles Morales, the newcomer to society, tried to change his mind, begging him to give him a chance to save his father, he hadn’t changed his mind. There was nothing Miles could do to change his mind. It was difficult with me, imagine with the others! But this is another story; Miles Morales was chased by an angry mob of Spider people, led by Miguel, flanked by me. The walls of the structure resounded with encouraging screams that every spider person gave himself, giving more charge during that chase. Miles was right in front of us, dodging webs and traps stretched by other members. There was something about that kid that maybe wasn’t something wrong.

He needed to be sent home and help him save his parents. I had not succeeded, and I would have avoided that another person (moreover a little boy!) would have gone through the same pain that I had to go through. Miguel and I split up, and that was my chance. With a perfect throw of my web, he managed to grab Miles' right arm and pull it towards me. The boy stretched his eyes, thinking it was the end for him. Only when I made a sign to him to become invisible and to hide behind a shaded wall, he understood. He hid me in turn, letting the angry crowd pass us.

Now it was the right time. "Miles". I called the kid with the labored breath and he returned to his normal form. He was exhaling and inspiring too, following the hunt we were giving him. Without wasting time, looking around if there was a person there, I took out my time clock, and put it on his wrist. " This clock will take you to your dimension. It’s already set for where you need to go. Don’t ask any more questions, go." Without giving him an answer, I left him there, in the shadows, his face confused and sweaty, while I waved him to go.

~☆~

"You did what?!"

"He’s a boy, Miguel!"

"You have no idea how serious the situation is because of you".

"Miguel, you have to reason. You can’t really thi-".

"The situation is far worse than you think, puta madre!"

Miguel’s scream rang out the second it left his mouth. I could compare him to an animal: panting, with his eyes reddened and grainy, studying every movement, his shoulders outstretched, ready to attack his prey, me, or maybe someone else. His fierce and intimidating tone made me shudder, close my eyes for fear that something might happen, or worse; I held my arms in place along my hips, biting my lip to channel the emotions I had inside. I didn’t want to show weakness before Miguel. Or better: he had already seen me as I was. Fragile, with doubts that twisted my mind, like a normal human being, yet in those situations I always tried not to show off... I wanted to have everything under control. The man didn’t realize that he was wrong, that he was blinded by this compulsive obsession with control. We were talking about a little boy, Jesus Christ!

I opened my eyes.

My thoughts were replaced by the still threatening tone of Miguel, my lover, who took a long sigh, pinching the tip of his nose. Then he shook his head, turning his back. The lab was upside down: the news of my help to Miles was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

"The consequences are serious. I can’t risk losing more people to a kid".

That was more a warning to him than to myself. "I need to think about it... I need to be alone".

"Miguel.." I tried to talk to him.

With one hand he stopped me from talking to him and shook his head slightly, not looking at me. " No." He said. "I know what you did. It was right. But now I need to be on my own" he repeated feebly, that I found it difficult to understand well what he wanted. Then I agreed, because I respected his condition and his well-being, so I left him alone in the now ruined laboratory, with the last words: "I only did what was right. He deserves a chance", then the doors closed. I swear I heard something from him.

"And I don’t blame you. But it’s not right that he can save his family, and I couldn’t do it".

[bumblesimagines]

Midnight Beach

Part 21/END

Request: Yes or No

~~~

"You're not Indiana fucking Jones, (Y/N)."

"What is with you and Indiana Jones?" 

"Why are you going to South America? Like- Jesus, okay, what if El Dorado is real? What are you going to do about the amount of people who are going to come running for a taste of gold? The people who'll come after you for even having a piece of the real deal? What about this Singh guy? He's dangerous, you said so yourself!" The redhead sputtered, waving her arms around animatedly as he packed some things into his backpack. A simple change of clothes, underwear, deodorant, a hydro flask, his phone charger. He'd seen what Liv packed before her trips out to visit her aunt and go hiking but the experience of trekking through a jungle? Kildare wasn't exactly known for its jungles. 

"At least we'll have an adult. Better than last time when it was just us on an island." He replied and swept his gaze over his room, searching for anything else he'd need. It almost felt like some sort of fever dream; clearing the air with Sarah and John B, hanging out with the Pogues on the Cut, preparing to go to a whole other continent. Christ, he'd only ever left Kildare a handful of times. Poguelandia had been a way to survive and Barbados an unavoidable accident. Now there he was, packing up to visit South America in search of someone who probably didn't even care for his existence. Completely and utterly avoidable.

"The adult is the one in trouble!" Liv nearly shrieked at him and slumped back on his bed. "You've finally lost it, (Y/N). You're flying out to South America on a presumed dead man's plane to save a deadbeat from some rich dude. Do you realize how crazy that sounds? How stupid? This is dumb. This is like... Topper Thornton level of stupidity. I hope you know that."

"I know how it sounds, Liv, but- I.." He sighed and finally turned to face the redhead. He pressed his leg against the edge of the bed and reached out to delicately comb his fingers through her vibrant locks. She puffed out her cheeks, a sign she'd be giving in soon, and stubbornly jerked her head in the other direction. "The Pogues have always been about adventures. This will be like... a farewell thing. We wrap this whole Royal Merchant and El Dorado thing up and I leave the Pogues to keep on treasure hunting or whatever it is they'll do after Big John's back home. John B's the biggest idiot I know. But even he deserves to have his father with him."

"And what about your parents?" 

"I told them that the Pogues and I were going on a little trip to process what happened to us. It's not my fault they didn't ask where we're going." A grin slipped when Liv snorted and rolled her eyes. The redhead took a deep breath and pushed herself up, brushing aside strands of hair and reaching forward to wrap her arms around him. (Y/N) cradled her head against his stomach and kissed the top of her head.

"I'll stay safe, Liv. I promise."

"You better. I don't feel like going to South America to rescue your ass."

                    ✽        ✽       ✽       ✽       ✽       ✽

Parking the jeep alongside Pope's dirt bike and getting out, (Y/N) nearly stumbled back against his jeep when JJ practically leaped into his arms followed by Pope and Cleo. (Y/N) laughed and did his best to embrace them in return, feeling JJ's hand ruffle the top of his head playfully. "You're late, man! Thought you chickened out on us."

"Not yet." He chuckled, nearly missing the wince from Sarah. He tried not to think about how the others would react to the news, especially after everything they'd been through. Rafe, Coastal Venture, Poguelandia, Barbados, and now... South America. He'd joined their little crew of misfits to help out his ex-girlfriend and now there he stood, waiting to hop on a plane to help her new on-and-off boyfriend. Fate truly had a twisted sense of humor. 

"Hey, uh, where's Kie?" Pope asked and (Y/N) shifted to look over at the entrance of the tarmac. No sign of an Uber or Lyft or even one of the Carrera's cars. He frowned, thinking of her parents and how desperate they were to keep Kiara home and safe after their return. They'd always been so protective of her. 

"It's gotta be her parents, dude. They've been up her ass." Sarah sighed, brushing her hair out of her face. 

"They must've said she couldn't come." Pope sucked his teeth. "We're going to have to do this without her, then." 

"No," JJ shook his head, adjusting the backpack strap digging into his shoulder and turning toward John B with his hand outstretched. John B immediately began shaking his head. "Gimmie the keys, man. Her parents already hate me, alright? Just.. give me an hour. It'll be like a black ops mission, in and out. Surgical removal type shit, alright? Plus... I kind of owe her."

"Oh?" John B's head snapped up and a twinkle appeared in his eyes, his fist digging around in his pocket to pull out the keys to the Twinkie. "You owe her, huh? Alright, you totally owe her. I appreciate the honesty." 

"Give me an hour, alright, ya'll?" JJ snatched the keys out of his hand and sprinted toward the Twinkie, tossing the backpack through the open window before leaping in afterward, his body awkwardly landing halfway in while John B and Pope groaned. (Y/N) snorted, watching him wiggle his whole body through the window and climb into the driver's seat.

"Feather the throttle!" John B shouted after him and the Twinkie's wheels squealed loudly against the road. They watched him drive off toward the entrance to save his... 'friend.' His very good 'friend.' Totally not his crush or anything like that. 

A hand came to rest on his shoulder and he looked back to catch Sarah's eye. She smiled at him, tired and nervous, and her fingers dug lightly into his shoulder. Sarah looked back toward the road where the Twinkie disappeared behind some trees and swallowed, her teeth biting down on her bottom lip. "Do you think he'll convince them to let her go?"

"Probably not." (Y/N) murmured. "I can't say I blame them either. I wouldn't want my daughter hanging out with people she keeps going missing with."

"I never really thought about it like that." Sarah dropped her hand and wrapped her arms around herself, the gentle breeze tousling around some of her hair. There was a heavy silence between them and despite the many discussions they had, it held an air of words yet to be spoken. Their history could never be unwritten, only forgotten over time as they entered adulthood. They'd eventually find their place in the world, their proper place, and begin a life without the other. It seemed fair to (Y/N). It was life. He'd come to accept it. Sarah Cameron had taken up much of his world in recent times, but like everything else, she'd eventually become a faint memory of his life in Figure Eight. A girl he loved and lost. An old friend. Someone he recalled both fondly and bitterly. 

"I'll keep in touch, by the way." A lie or the truth? He couldn't quite tell. Did he want to stay in communication with them, with her? It'd be a risk. They'd eventually stumble into a new adventure, something new to discover and unveil that'd prompt them to reach out, whether to experience it with him or ask him for something.

"You could attend Chapel Hill, you know." She said softly. "It's close to home, close to us but not on the island."

"That's not happening, Sarah. I want to get away from here, from Figure Eight and Kildare. I've been here long enough. I don't want to regret not doing what I always wanted. I don't want to be like some of the miserable men here who only get genuine happiness when they go on business trips away from their families. The women here either love their lives or drown themselves in wine while the men inhale coke like its air and are barely ever home. It's a nightmare living here, Sarah. You see it, I see it. The Carrera's are one of the few that seem happy together and they had to prove themselves to even be accepted as Kooks. It's... hell." 

"Not everything's so bad. There was... us and- and Topper and-"

"Things that are over, Sarah. Topper definitely won't be talking to us for a while and you and I... " (Y/N) inhaled deeply through his nose and released it in a heavy sigh. "You and I are done. For now or for good, I don't really know. If things change in the future... if we change in the future... maybe we'll find each other again. But I'm done with bullshit love triangles and John B." 

"I know. I just-"

"Eight hours?! JJ, don't have eight hours! We've got a jet here. We're all waiting!" The two of them turned at the sound of John B's voice, spotting him speaking into the phone with a look of frustration. He blinked and shook his head rapidly, stammering and stumbling over his words before pulling the phone away from his ear and sighing. 

"What's going on?" Pope asked as he and Cleo sat down on the steps leading up to the plane. John B rubbed the area between his brows and pinched the bridge of his nose, tucking his phone into his back pocket.

"Kiara got sent to a wilderness camp," He told them. "So, JJ is going to try to rescue her. He says he'll need eight hours-"

"Hours we don't have." Sarah cut in, folding her arms over her chest and walking toward him. "John B-"

"I know, I know. JJ said that if they don't make it in time, we should just go. That- That somehow they'll make it to South America." John B sighed again at the faces everyone made. Kiara locked away in a wilderness camp and JJ on a mission to rescue her. Sounded like an average Tuesday for the Pogues. "Yeah, I know, but it's JJ. He'll figure something out."

"So, what? We just waitin' around now?" Cleo questioned, her eyes flickering between them. "The longer we wait, the farther Singh gets, you know that, right?"

John B ran a hand over his face and nodded. The sky above them began to darken with the setting sun and gray clouds. Time seemed to tick by faster than expected.  "Yeah, yeah, we know, Cleo. But this is Kie and JJ. We can't just leave leave them."

"Guess we're waiting then." Sarah pursed her lips. "Better get comfortable."

Another hour or two passed and night officially fell overhead, leaving them with only the lights along the airstrip. The plane pilot settled comfortably in the cockpit, awaiting instructions while the Pogues paced outside. No sign of JJ or Kiara, no calls, no texts. Dead silence on their end that only made frustration grow. John B continued to stare out toward the entrance, tapping his foot or dialing their numbers in vain. 

"We have to go, John B," Sarah spoke up, pacing along the steps with her hands firmly on her hips. "We don't have eight hours. We can't wait around any longer, alright?" 

"I'll try to call him again, okay?" As John B reached into his pocket and wiggled out his phone, the sound of a dirt bike grew closer and two dark figures on a bike appeared from the darkness of the airstrip. Everyone's attention immediately snapped toward it and Cleo groaned in relief. The scold on the tip of Pope's tongue halted and they all froze as the driver tossed their helmet off with their bloodied hands. (Y/N) felt his blood turn cold. 

Hands left his sides and lifted to his face. Rafe roughly grabbed his throat, fingers digging into (Y/N)'s skin. A soft whimper left him and he pressed his hands against Rafe's chest, attempting to push back the blonde. "I need you to listen to me very carefully." He spotted Rafe's pupils in the light. He was high. "I need to get rid of John B. He came back to hurt my family and Sarah's helpin' him. I don't want to hurt her. She's my sister. But I can't let John B walk free. You know that, (Y/N). I'll let you come with me in case things get outta hand... But don't get in the way." 

Taking in a sharp breath when Rafe released him, (Y/N) gingerly touched his sore throat. Rafe reached around the back of his waistband and took out a revolver, letting (Y/N) soak it in for a moment before tucking it back into its hiding spot. A coldness washed over him, making every hair on his body stand straight. Rafe ran a hand over his face and sniffled lightly, rubbing his nose and slapping a hand over (Y/N)'s back. He casually tossed the door open and stepped out.

"Come on, Barry's waiting."

He felt the phantom touch of fingers digging into his skin, hands coiling around his throat in an iron grip that left him momentarily breathless. Only the pained groan and Rafe's hurried movements broke him out of his brief trance, the withering and panting body on the back of the bike finally registering. Ward toppled over, bringing the bike along with him as he fell onto the concrete, revealing the large bloody circle on his shirt. Fucking Camerons.

"You're okay, Dad. You're okay, you're okay." Rafe breathlessly repeated as he reached down to bring Ward back up onto his feet. He finally knocked the helmet off Ward's head, revealing his pained face. Sarah staggered backward, staring wide-eyed at her father's bleeding form. Rafe turned to them, chest heaving. "Don't just stand there! I need some help! Come on, help me! (Y/N)! Please, Sarah."

Short, rapid breaths escaped Sarah's mouth and she hurried forward despite her previous hesitance. "What happened?!" She asked, pulling one of Ward's arms over her shoulder, helping her father wobble closer and closer to the plane. 

"A fisherman spotted him, alright? They know he's alive. We gotta get him off the island right now." Rafe explained, tightly clutching his father's shirt and helping him inside the rest of the way. Sarah brought her hands to her forehead and moved away from the stairs, mumbling curses under her breath as she began to pace before bolting inside to check on them.

"Hell no. We are not getting on the plane with him. Hell no!" Pope shook his head as he cursed and turned toward John B. The brunette remained silent, eyes staring at the dots of red littering the ground and leading up to the plane.

(Y/N) rubbed his throat and turned around to face them, inhaling softly. Rafe looked different. Still had that deranged look in his eye but he'd buzzed his hair, ridding himself of the boyish blonde waves. The blood on his hands... a look that fitted him. A coked-up, daddy's boy who'd do anything for his approval, even if it meant staining his hands. 

"He wasn't supposed to come," Sarah said breathlessly, heading down the steps and coming to a stop beside John B. "He stays on the island, he gets arrested."

"No, no, Sarah. I don't think you understand. I don't know if I can get on a plane with that guy-"

"Just listen, John B. This is his plane. I can't stop him from leaving. But he will still give us a ride to Orinoco, so if you don't wanna get on the plane, I get it. We'll find another way!"

John B swallowed, staring down at her as his lips pressed together. "There's no other way." He muttered, turning his head to look at Pope and Cleo. He took in a deep breath. "Let's go. Let's get on the plane."

"With them?" Pope stared at him, completely bewildered, and features slightly hardened with bitterness. With Rafe? (Y/N) grimaced. He'd be fine with just Ward, even if the man appeared half-dead with his groaning. At John B's nod, Pope sighed and turned around, preparing to head into the plane when Rafe stepped out. The two stopped and stared at each other, jaws clenching and muscles tensing. The air filled heavy with tension and unfinished business.

Rafe moved first, heading down the steps and brushing past the glaring boy. Cleo placed a hand on Pope's back, urging him inside and blocking his way until Pope finally headed up into the plane. (Y/N) took in a breath and walked forward, only taking a couple steps toward the plane before sweaty lean arms wrapped around his shoulders. He froze in Rafe's embrace, feeling those bloodied hands curl around the back of his shirt. "Keep an eye on him,' He whispered. "Please."

"He'll be fine." (Y/N) murmured breathlessly, and pulled himself free of the embrace to cut the distance between him and the stairs. He headed up them, hearing Rafe say the same sentiment to Sarah as she followed after him. 

Inside the plane, Ward took up two seats near the front with his injury properly bandaged. He winced and groaned every few seconds, his face dripping with sweat. He seemed stable enough. Pope and Cleo sat far from him, side by side with Cleo quietly speaking to a fuming Pope. Sarah collapsed on one of the seats across from Ward with a first aid kit in her hands. John B sat a few seats down, looking weirdly calm about the whole situation. (Y/N) pursed his lips.

It was going to be a long ride to South America.

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"It's the Wild West out here," Cleo murmured as they stepped off the plane. The airstrip contained multiple people in military gear, some held guns or leashes clipped to attack dogs. Different country, different laws, different treatment. (Y/N) only prayed they'd at least manage to stay on the right end of a gun, far from the barrel or bullets. 

"Sarah!" Ward called out, limping down the stairs and holding onto the railings. "I'm coming."

Sarah whipped around to face him, a scoff escaping her. "No, you're not. You got us here like you said you would. Now go on to Guadeloupe. You need to see a doctor!"

"You're way in over your head. I can help, let me help. Please-"

"No!" Sarah shouted, cutting him off sharply. "Get back in the plane. You promised you weren't a part of this." 

Ward fell silent, his eyes trailing over each of them. He pressed his lips together tightly and nodded. "Okay." He sighed, turning around and wobbling back into the plane. Sarah turned away and ran a frustrated hand over her face, nodding for them to continue off the airstrip with a solemn look on her face. 

Getting a taxi and heading further into Tres Rocas, they listened to the sound of fireworks and firecrackers as people roamed the decorated streets. Lively music played from different buildings and children raced up and down the streets, clutching flags and other things in their hands. Things seemed better, more friendlier than the dreary, heavily watched airport. 

"Looks like a local holiday," Cleo mused, stepping out of the taxi and observing her surroundings. (Y/N) watched a firework shoot up into the air and hummed quietly before turning to face the others when the taxi drove away, leaving them in the middle of the crowded street. 

"So, we have to assume that Singh's already gone upriver, alright? We're looking for a guy named Jose. He's gonna take us to the dig site. I, uh... I do not have a last name."

"I hate to break it to you, John B," (Y/N) began. "You're in a Latin country. Half the dudes here are going to be named Jose and most of them will be likely working some sort of job regarding the river since, you know, this is a river town."

"(Y/N)'s right. It'll be like findin' a teardrop in the ocean." Cleo rubbed her forehead as she spoke, a tired look passing over her face. "We'd have better luck tryin' to find Singh."

"Well, I'm assuming river guides probably hang out by the river?" Sarah attempted halfheartedly.

"Yeah, and if they're anything like the guys at OBX, they're probably getting drunk on a holiday." 

Sarah hummed thoughtfully and placed her hands on her hips, a hopeful grin appearing on her face. "Let's start with the bars, then. Divide and conquer, ya'll."

And with that, the group split up and spread out around town. (Y/N) put his basic Spanish lessons from school to use, hitting up any place that looked like it sold beer and asking around for Jose the river guide. Many of the locals waved him off or shook their heads, unable to answer any of his questions with useful information. Regardless, he thanked them and went on his way until he met up with Pope and Cleo again near the center of the town, the looks on their faces telling him they'd have similar luck. 

The sound of tires squealing caught their attention and they spotted a jeep driving down the road, heading straight for them. "Run." Pope breathed and without needing to be told twice, the three of them took off running down the street. The jeep honked repeatedly, the sound of it growing closer and closer as they ducked down different streets trying to lose it. 

"Como estas, amigos?" A familiar face stuck their head out a windowless bus, speaking in barely understandable Spanish and with a hude dumb grin on his face. Fucking JJ and Kiara. Go figure. He laughed gleefully but the look quickly vanished at the realization that they were being chased. 

"Already?! We just got here!" Kiara groaned, hurrying off the bus with JJ. "What's happening?"

"Singh's men are after us. We gotta think of a plan." Pope explained breathlessly, bracing his hands on his knees and attempting to calm his racing heart by taking deep breaths.

"Let's hijack the bus!"

"This bus?" Kiara scoffed at JJ's proposal, motioning wildly to the old rickety bus they'd taken. "It only goes ten miles an hour!"

"They're coming now, guys! Hide in the fruit stands, come on!" Cleo ushered them further down an alleyway where rows of stalls stood. They ducked and weaved around the bustling people until they found an unoccupied stand to hide behind. (Y/N) could feel droplets of sweat roll down his cheeks, his eyes locked on the rifles the two men carried around as they asked and checked the bus. The two eventually headed back to their jeep and took off down the road.

"Welcome to South America," Cleo said, tossing her arms up.

"They're foreigners, Cleo." (Y/N) murmured, catching his breath and running the back of his hand over his forehead. "The locals haven't done anything. They don't owe us any help either."

"So..." Kiara trailed off, her chest heaving with deep breaths. "What's the plan?"

JJ swallowed, his eyes flickering over the stands and locals bustling around before his lips twisted up. He looked back at Kiara, studying her face for a moment before looking back toward them. "Barracuda Mike gave us the ride here. We could... ask him?" He proposed, wincing at the deadpan look Pope gave him. "He's our only shot, man!"

"Fantastic..." Pope sighed heavily. "Barracuda Mike it is."

Barracuda Mike, as it turned out, was a smuggler who primarily dealt with smuggling drugs and other similar things out of North Carolina via his cargo plane. And, he seemed surprisingly understanding when the group returned to him asking for help, claiming to have a boat set up at the river. He led them to it, even offering over a mag of machetes for them to use as weapons as he led them through a short trek in the jungle and to a boat perched on the water.

"I'm addin' the cost of this rig to what you already owe me. I don't expect to see it again, anyway. I asked around at the landin' today. Your buds did leave this mornin', but I was able to get directions to El Tesoro. Pretty loose since only Jose knows the real way, but it'll get you in the right zip code." Barracuda Mike explained, handing over a piece of paper with directions written on it and nodding for them to climb into the boat. 

Turning to look at him, Pope offered a small smile. "Thanks." 

"Don't thank me." Barracuda Mike brushed him off with a dry chuckle and wave of his hand. "Start prayin'." Ah, that made his willingness to help more understandable. He wanted them out of his hair as quickly as possible. "

With a couple of strained grunts, Barracuda Mike pushed the boat further into the water and lifted his hand to wave at them as the boat began floating downstream. JJ got the motor started and their speed increased, releasing a soft hum that mixed with the distant singing birds, chirping insects, and even the occasional hoot of a monkey. The five of them settled comfortably on the boat, filling the silence with chatter. (Y/N) spent his time gazing into the murky, brown river water until night fell and they took turns steering the boat to get some rest.

By the early morning, the sound of another boat heading down the river prompted JJ to wake everybody up and steer the boat closer to the bank where it'd be hidden by foliage and low-hanging leaves. They ducked down and waited, watching as a boat filled with Singh's men passed by, armed and going rather fast.

"They're not lookin' for us." Cleo mused. "They're movin' too quick."

"They're looking for John B and Sarah." JJ realized quietly, darting up from his spot and starting the motor back up. "They gotta know where they're headed. We need to go. They're gonna need us!"

The boat quickly resumed its journey down the rivers, speed fast enough to keep up with Singh but slow enough not to draw their attention. (Y/N) watched the boat drift in and out of view, disappearing over the horizon until JJ sped back up. His gaze moved over to the bag of machetes resting on the floor of the boat. Weapons, Barracuda Mike had called them. Weapons meant to help them against armed and trained men with guns. Maybe he should've listened to Liz, after all. 

Early the next morning they encountered a small docking area by the riverbank. Kiara studied the paper Barracuda Mike had given them, her head lifting every so often to look at the village before she nodded to herself. "Guys, I think this is El Tesoro. The trailhead to the mountain is supposed to start here." She told them.

"Oh, shit," JJ whispered, motioning ahead to two of Singh's men lingering on the docks. "What are we gonna do? We gotta get past them somehow."

Pope's lips pursed and he slipped his backpack off his shoulders, setting it down on his lap and rummaging through the contents before pausing and looking up at them. "I... may have an idea."

"This is so stupid." (Y/N) whispered, peeking over the windowsill of the old, abandoned shack that had the perfect view of the men. One of them dozed off on a boat while the other fiddled around with different things, seemingly bored of waiting around. "If one of you gets shot-"

"It'll be fine, (Y/N)." Kiara assured him, ensuring the note she'd tied to the end of the fish hook wouldn't fall before she tossed the line out. It landed in the boat the napping man lied in and he startled, sitting up with squinted eyes and looking around until he noticed the note. "Get ready, ya'll.... and.... now, JJ!"

The blonde lit a firecracker and tossed it into the air, far enough that it hit the side of boat and exploded in the water. The man scrambled up and grabbed his rifle, his head on a swivel as his partner ducked down. Another firecracker landed and exploded nearby, prompting the man to start shooting blindly and forcing them to duck down to avoid being seen or hit. 

"Return fire, Pope! Return fire!" JJ shouted and Pope quickly lit another firecracker, tossing it over the roof of the shack. 

When that one exploded, they heard the man shouting at his partner to get in the boat. The boat quickly sped off with the two men on it and the group sent them off with one last firecracker. Once they disappeared down the river, (Y/N) stood up and shook his head, rolling his eyes at JJ and Pope's celebratory handshake.

"Hey, hey," Cleo called, stepping out of the shack and sucking her teeth. "No time for celebrating. We didn't do nothing yet."

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"You know," (Y/N) exhaled breathlessly, sweat dripping profusely from his skin from both the humidity and trek up the mountain. Kiara answered with a soft groan, clutching her side as she leaned against a tree and turned back to look at him. Pope and Cleo had long gone ahead of them, clearing a way with two machetes as if they were used to hiking through jungles. "I'm glad this little last adventure... with you all has been... interesting, to say the least."

"Last?" JJ repeated, quickly as breathless. His blonde strands stuck to his forehead and temples, soaked as if he'd taken a plunge in the river. "What- What do you mean, last?"

"Yeah, I mean-" Kiara took a deep gulp of air and swatted away a buzzing insect. "-I'm sure there'll be other adventures."

"Yeah, for you guys." (Y/N) stood up straighter and rolled back his shoulder, wincing when his back ached. His legs were in no better condition, aching and weeping for rest. JJ and Kiara stared at him, their brows knitting together. "I- I... Jesus, I hate hiking. I'm never doing this again."

"Ditto." Kiara laughed and turned her back to him, using the trunk she'd been leaning against to help her move over a fallen log. "But, what do you mean? We're Pogues. All of us. Even Cleo and you. We're... We're a family... one that should never go hiking again."

"Remember that night when Sarah told us about the plane?" You asked, waiting for JJ to step over the log and sighing quietly when the blonde tripped and nearly fell. He recovered quickly, shooting them both an innocent grin as he wiped moist dirt off his hand. (Y/N) cautiously stepped over the log, keeping in mind the root that'd nearly taken out JJ and glancing up at them as they continued the trek.

"Yeah, you and JB cleared the air, right?" JJ glanced over his shoulder at him. 

"Yeah, sorta, I guess. But, uhm... I told them that I'd-" 

"Woah, guys, look at this view!" Kiara suddenly called out with a giddy laugh, the path leading out to an open area where they could overlook the thick jungle and the mountains ahead. (Y/N) noticed Pope and Cleo breaking away from each other quickly and hummed quietly, a smile pulling at the edges of his lips. Kiara and JJ, Pope and Cleo... Sarah and John B. They all had each other, in some way or another. 

"What were you saying, (Y/N)?" JJ turned to look at him, causing the others to turn as well. 

"Oh, uhm..." (Y/N) trailed off and sighed, looking out toward the gorgeous view before him. A thick green jungle as far as the eye could see, giant mountains that reached toward the skies, the beautiful song of the jungle sounding through the air. Beautiful, but everything that'd led him up to that moment hadn't truly been worth the view. "I'm leaving the OBX. For good. I'm- I'm going to get my diploma and apply to colleges away from here."

"What?" The resounding response to his revelation. 

"I know, I know... Poguelandia, I know. I deserve more than being the thirdwheel or the ex being dragged along, guys. As much as ya'll hate to admit it, I'm a Kook. I care about each of you, even John B... sometimes. You'll always be family. And sometimes, families have to separate to live their lives to the fullest, right? I want a degree, a proper job, and a safe life. It's boring but it'll be comfortable." The Pogues remained largely quiet, mixed expressions on their faces and different emotions flashing but in the end, they all settled on bittersweet smiles and nods. "And I promise to send wedding invitations, if I ever get engaged."

"You better!" JJ laughed, lurching forward to swing his arms around his shoulders and hold him tightly. "You better, you bastard. I expect to be a groomsman, you hear?"

"And you better keep in touch, too." Kiara piped in.

"And visit when you can, alright?" Pope added and Cleo agreed with a nod. 

"I will, I will." (Y/N) chuckled, running his hand over JJ's back before the two pulled away. "Now, let's go find those two idiots."

They headed down the mountain after Pope pointed out a manmade trail heading down and further into the jungle. JJ took the lead with Kiara, using machetes to cut down any thick grass, exposed roots, or fallen wood. They walked with idle chatter until a loud, distant yet not far explosion sounded through the air, startling the animals and causing birds in a nearby tree to shoot up into the air in a panic. They fell silent and exchanged wide-eyed glances before a silent, mutual agreement passed over them and they broke out into a sprint in the direction of the explosion.

"Careful!" Pope called when Kiara tripped over a root but brushed him off with a wave and stood back up to hurry after JJ. 

They continued through the path until they heard the familiar sound of Ward's voice, followed by Big John and Sarah. Immediately ducking down, they carefully made their way up the steep path and peeked over, spotting Ward holding Big John, Sarah, and John B at gunpoint while speaking quietly to them.

"What are we gonna do?" Pope questioned quietly.

"Is this ride or die?" JJ asked quietly, his hand curling around the machete sheathed away. The others mimicked his movements, freeing their machetes from their sheaths and holding tightly onto them. JJ glanced back at them and grinned. "P4L."

The group charged forward with battle cries, pulling Ward's attention away from the three and onto them. He swung his gun around frantically as the group shouted at him, demanding he put his gun down. Ward panted, his eyes wide and arm swinging around, continuously switching who he pointed the gun at in a desperate attempt to spook them into staying back.

"You can't shoot just one of us." (Y/N) exhaled, grinding his teeth when Ward looked back at him with softened features. 

"If you have to shoot somebody, Ward, shoot me." Big John told him through labored breaths, his bloodied hands pressed against his side. Shit. Ward spun on his heel to face him but John B stepped in his way, staring him right in the eye and arching a brow.

"Or me." He said softly, watching Ward's features harden and the trembling of his hand grow. He curled his lip and took a deep breath, attempting to steady his arm but then Sarah stepped in front of John B, her eyes shiny with tears but her features showcasing her utter exhaustion. 

"Stop." She whispered, swallowing as a tear slid down her cheek and she stepped forward, pressing the barrel to her chest and staring at her father. "Enough."

"Don't-"

"You're not gonna kill all of us. I know you won't. I know you." Sarah's lips began to tremble and she shakily exhaled. "You forget that I know you."

Her words seemed to have an effect on Ward, his own eyes flooding with tears and face scrunching up as his shoulders began shaking. Sarah placed her hand over his, pushing it down and pulling the gun from his weakened grip. "I couldn't." Ward gasped, tears running freely down his face. His palm came to rest on Sarah's cheek and he weakly smiled. "I couldn't do it."

"Yeah? Well, I can." A new voice called followed by the sound of a gun cocking. One of Singh's men stumbled out of the jungle, his gun raised and pointed at them before dropping down to Big John when John B pointed his own gun at him. "Toss it!"

"Take it easy, bud." Big John spoke weakly. "Your boss is dead. You got no reason to do this."

"I can think of a few reasons." The man sneered at Big John, his eyes jumping back to John B. "Toss it!" He demanded sharply and John B lifted his hands, letting the gun slip from his grasp. The man slinked forward, keeping his gun trained on them. "Thought you'd end up with the gold, eh? Alright, nobody move. My mate back there is dead. Because of you. You..." He pointed his gun at Sarah. "Can go first."

Exchanging one last somber look with his daughter, Ward charged forward, taking multiple shots to his body but refusing to relent until he tackled the man and took them both tumbling down the cliff nearby. Sarah staggered forward, short gasps escaping her that turned into quiet sobs. (Y/N) moved first, snapping the others out of their shock, and walked toward the cliff's edge. He spotted the two lifeless bodies at the bottom and grimaced, closing his eyes tightly and listening to Sarah's sobs grow louder. 

"Big John? Hey, Big John?" Pope's panicked voice made him open his eyes and he turned his head, noticing Big John's head lolling off to the side. (Y/N)'s arms reached out, pulling Sarah against him, and nodded to John B. The brunette shot him a thankful look before rushing over to his father, speaking hurriedly to him and slinging on of his arms over his shoulder. 

"Come on, we gotta get you out of here, Dad." John B told him, waiting for Pope to get his other arm before they began heading back down the trail as quickly as possible. 

"We'll let them know when we get back that his body's here, alright?" (Y/N) took Sarah by the shoulders, squeezing them lightly. She sniffled, another sob wrecking her body but she managed to nod weakly, one arm sliding around his waist to use him as support. "You'll be okay, Sarah. We'll all be okay."

They took turns helping Big John, the weight of a tall grown man weakening them after some time. They managed to reach the deserted dock, getting to their boat, and laying him down. (Y/N) got the motor started, steering them up the river as the Pogues tried giving Big John reassurances through their tears. He remained by the motor, watching them slowly come to terms with Big John's fate. His breathing had long become labored, his body too exhausted to fight through the pain. 

With a trembling hand, Big John took his son's hand. "We did it together, my boy. Just... just like we drew it up. Hey, hey, Bird... it's okay." He weakly smiled up at him, rubbing his thumb over John B's hand. "I know... that I wasn't any great shakes as a father... but you... you were the best son any man could hope for. I want you to know that..."

"Tell me when we get home, Dad, okay?" John B sniffled, reaching into his bag to pull out the block of gold they'd been able to get from El Dorado before exploding the entrance alongside Singh. He set the block on Big John's chest for him to look at, a pained, bittersweet smile on his face. "We did it. We did it, Dad."

Big John's eyes fluttered closed, his breathing growing weaker and shorter. John B's lips rolled into his mouth, the tears dripping down his cheeks and quiet sobs escaping him. "I'll see you... I'll see you at home, kid..." Big John told him, before his chest ceased rising and John B hugged him tightly.

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"Is this all of it?" 

(Y/N) tore his attention away from his startling empty room to look over at Liz. He'd taken down most of his pictures, even those of him and Sarah, and packed them away in a box. He'd already chosen which ones he felt like keeping and which ones he felt fine with parting. His closet remained partly empty, a couple clothes kept in there just in case, but his essentials and anything sentimental had been packed away and in the back of his jeep. 

"Yeah," (Y/N) nodded, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jacket and nodding to himself. "We're good to go, I guess." 

"Good, 'cause I have a flight to catch." Liv walked forward, wrapping her arms around him before planting a kiss on his cheek. She scanned the room and hummed quietly, turning around and making her way to the door. "I'll be waiting for you on campus, alright? I already spoke to your future roomie-"

"Liv." (Y/N) groaned. 

"And I have to say, he's pretty cute. I think you'll have fun together." Liv winked, her mischievous giggles echoing down the hall. 

Rolling his eyes and quietly muttering to himself, (Y/N) took one last survey of his childhood bedroom. He'd miss it, even with all the lonesome memories it held. He walked toward the door and stepped outside, gently shutting it and making his way down the hall. His eyes took in every inch of the hall, gaze lingering on the rare family photos still hung up despite his parent's pending divorce. Things were better that way. They'd go their own way, find their own happiness. Communication with them had improved, at least. No more ignored calls.

"Goodbye, home sweet home." He whispered to himself, striding down the stairs and picking up his keys. 

(Y/N) stepped outside and shut the door with a soft thud, locking it and double-checking it locked. He inhaled deeply and stepped off the porch, waving to Liv's car when it sped down the road. Topper waited at the end of the driveway, attempting to look as casual as possible while leaning against his truck. 

"What's up, Top?"

"Came to see you off, is all," Topper responded with a shrug, pushing himself off the truck and walking up the driveway toward him. He stood in front of him, twisting his lips up a bit before throwing his arms around him in a tight hug. (Y/N) stumbled backward and chuckled, wrapping his arms around him. "I'm still mad at you.... but I'll miss you."

"Yeah, yeah, don't get into trouble, alright?" (Y/N) leaned back, ruffling up his pristine blonde locks and laughing when Topper huffed. "Keep an eye on Sarah, will you? But be nice about it." 

"She's a big girl," Topper muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. "I will. Just for you, though."

"Uh-huh." (Y/N) climbed into his jeep and turned the engine on, feeling it come to life beneath him. He took another look at the boy and smiled, closing the door and resting his arm on top of it. "I'll be seeing you in a couple months, anyway. Got that big thing with the mayor, remember? Something about the treasure."

"Don't be a stranger, then!" Topper called, watching the car reserve out of the driveway.

With one last wave, (Y/N) drove down the street. He turned the volume of the radio up and absentmindedly listened to the random pop songs that played, his eyes focused on the scenery passing him by. The expensive houses, the snobby neighbors, the shimmering water peeking between the trees, the welcoming town between both worlds, the distant horn of the ferry. He'd miss Kildare but it felt good to finally break away from it. 

The repeated honking of a car caught his attention and he rolled his eyes when the Twinkie drove up beside him with JJ halfway out of the passenger window. Whoops, hollers, and the occasional 'we'll miss you' came from the van and JJ playfully blew him a few kisses before being forced back into his seat by John B. The brunette pushed his hand into the horn a few more times before they turned down a different road. 

"Idiots." (Y/N) whispered with a chuckle and pulled into a gas station, parking his car by one of the bumps and stepping out. He stuck his hand in his back pocket for his wallet and tugged it out, moving around his car and looking up in time to notice Sarah jogging across from the store. 

"Liv told me you were gonna stop for gas here." She revealed with a chuckle, brushing back strands of blonde hair she'd recently recolored. Sarah smiled sweetly, glancing at the stuff stored in the back of his jeep. "The others are gonna pick me up in a second. I... I wanted to say bye to you alone. Well- Somewhat alone."

"All of you are acting as if I'm marching off war." (Y/N) snorted. Sarah laughed sheepishly and shrugged lightly, taking a few steps closer before she leaned up to press their lips together. She leaned back and rested her hands on his shoulders, her smile shifting into a sad one. She sighed shakily and chuckled again. 

"Thank you, for everything... I couldn't have asked for a better boyfriend, ex or not. I'll really miss you and just know that- that I'll always have love for you, (Y/N). Remember that, okay? Promise you'll never forget how much I care about you... how much we all care for you." She told him softly, tilting her head up to gaze into his eyes. "Pogues for life?"

"Pogues for life." He echoed softly, combing his fingers through her hair and pressing his hand against her cheek. Sarah leaned into his touch and closed her eyes.

"I'm... I'm glad you're going for your happily ever after, (Y/N). Even if it's not with us. We'll always be here if you ever need us."

[captainlondonman]

Car Repair Bear

There was something about the local car repair garage that made Danny look in every time he passed. Above the door was a dirty sign saying Bear Repairs. In fact it was not something but someone. There was only ever one guy there but almost every time Danny slowed up enough to look in, if the guy was in full view Danny could immediately start to feel his cock swell. Christ it was not as if the guy was some hunk, in fact he was quite the opposite. He was at least 185cms high thick set ,in fact more that that he had a good sized beer belly and he was hairy as hell. He was always in a dirty and oily blue overall which was invariably open almost down to his navel , probably because it was too tight on him but it made his hairy belly bulge out through the wide gap. He had a thick silver chain around his neck and tattoos around his neck. His hands were real mechanic hands thick fingered with dirty ingrained nails and such hairy hands. He wore thick toe capped boots up to his knees with the top part folded over. His neck was as  thick as his head and he had a real bruiser face as if he had been in several street fights. Hair closely shaved with a heavy 3 day growth. There was always a ciggie hanging out one side of his mouth.. An oily rag stuck out from his rear pocket.

Danny got so turned on by this large bear bellied man, a real man that he often had to cover up his boner and then wank furiously when he got home. It reminded him of Mr Barton the school teacher. He was large with his shirt buttons always ready to split and his trousers belted tight so his belly poured out over his trousers. He obviously wore no underwear as when he walked down the classroom Danny could easily see the outline of his thick cock swinging in the baggy trousers. Every time Mr Barton passed by Danny’s hand went down to his cock under the table and stroked himself until he had a stonking hard on.

As Danny passed by the repair shop one day he saw a car driving in and a large guy in a suit, shirt and tie  get out. Christ it was Mr Barton. Jesus how could he and the repair guy be together it was almost too much. He decided he had to get closer and managed to get in whilst they were talking and hid behind a machine.

He heard Mr. Barton say ‘I’ve come for a service’.

‘Sure mate, I’ve been expecting you but it ain’t the car that’s needing serviced is it? I’d better close the door while we deal with your servicing.

The owner walked so close to Danny that he almost could have touched him. He closed the doors and as he turned to look at Mr. Barton he said

‘I knew you’d be hot. I can see that thick dick of your hard as anything from here. Don’t worry I’ll give you the full service.’

As the two men came together Mr. Barton put his hand out and grabbed the owners coverall pulling him in and then putting his hand down inside to grab hold of his cock.

‘Tell you what Les that cock of yours I dream off when I’m fucking the wife. Let me get it out and admire before I get my mouth down the shaft. I love sucking your dick and feeling all that hair on your belly rubbing against my mouth.’

Danny could now see Les’s fully erect dick. It had a thick vein on the underside and was clearly circumsized with a huge head. It must have been a full 9 inches and more like 10.

With his legs wide apart Les said

‘Well Barton as you like it that much get down on your fucking knees and get a whiff. Nice and oily and I know you like me to not have washed any piss off. You like it dirty eh?’

Mr Barton got down in front of Les to look at the boner in front  of him.

‘Shit that’s some cock. No wonder I keep coming back for a service.’

‘Look you faggot this is just the start’ and with that Les got hold of Mr Barton’s tine and yanked him up so his mouth was level with his cockhead.

‘No softly’ softly today mate, I need to feel that mouth of yours go the whole way down.’

With hand still pulling on the tie Les took his other arm and placed his beefy hand behind Barton’s head.

‘That’s it now open wide and start to get it down you. I want to feel you take my whole dick and have your lips in amongst my thick pubes so you can feel my belly pressed against you. That’s it mate let me help you and I’ll push it down yer throat.’

Barton started to gag slightly as he tried to fully open his mouth.

‘Quit the gagging you pussy and take it like a real man.’

With his hand still behind Barton’s head he pressured more and more guiding with force so his cock sunk more and more into his mouth

‘That’s it let me feel all your spit around my shaft.’

Letting one hand go from the tie Les then put both hands around Barton’s head and started to move it further in and then out.

‘That’s fucking better. You’ve got the hang of it. Jesus you so love cock. So you want the full service. So we’d better sort out that arse of yours. Get off the ground and lean over your car.’

Barton stood up the saliva from all his sucking was running down his chin.

‘Get your jacket off and I’ll do the rest’ Les snapped.

As Barton leant over the car Les took his hand and slapped hard three times causing Barton to jerk.

‘Christ careful man I can’t have the wife see me with weal marks on my arse.’

‘Well she might well be seeing all my cum running out of your arse anyway.’

Les put his muscle d arms around Barton and undid his belt. ‘You’ve been putting on a few pounds recently. Just how I like my men. Nice and beefy with a good hairy belly and bulging arse. No matter how much it bulges I love getting my cock up through the depths and into the hole.’

Les pulled down the trousers so they were set at the ankles.

‘I can feel that precum of yours on your trousers. You’ll have to something about that before you get home.’

‘You’ve a great big arse on you man. Just perfect and all that spit of yours has my cock ready to thrust right into you.’

From his position Danny could see Les’s  thick cock which he had his hand around ready to enter. Danny cock was oozing precum. He had never see two big bellied bear men have sex together but had dreamt it. Now here he was a voyeur watching one man about to fuck the living day lights out of another , his ex teacher and his own cock was straining to get out of his joggers, in fact it was tenting to such an extent that he looked as he had a pole down inside and there was a large precum stain just as his cock head rubbed against his nylon  joggers.

He watched Les take hold of each arse cheek and pull them wide apart so he could slip his cock int between to force his arse head open.

You’ve taken this dick a few times Barton so that hole of yours is ready for my prick. It’ll slide up a dream once I get past the opening and you can feel me force it right up to the hilt. Shit you have one great hairy arse. Your arse hairs and my pubes rubbing together eh?’

And with that Les sank his cock right in letting go of the cheeks as he did so the hairy arse sprang back over ’Les’s cock.

‘Bet you love being taken on your own car. Now let me grab that cock of yours while I fuck and well get that juice of yours over the bonnet nice and thick.’

With his hands firmly around Bartons belly and grasping his cock Les started to ram his own dick in and out faster and faster but each time making sure he forced it in the whole way. Barton’s arse started to react and he moved his fat arse back and forth so he could feel the full thrust

‘Fuck me man, go the whole way with your service and let me feel that spunk of yours shooting so far up I a can almost feel it in my mouth. I already have that salty taste of your precum in me.’

‘Shit Barton you’re a great fuck. Always has me coming big time so lets finish this off as my balls are ready to break and shoot my cum up you. I can feel that cock of yours pulsating and ready.’

Danny had his own cock out his hand firmly working the full length of his shaft. He knew he was going to cum, he was almost breathless with excitement watching these two guys humping. Les’s thrusting was even causing the car to move.

‘I’m fucking ready to spear you Barton so get ready to take my spunk. It’s coming. Fuuuuck.’ and with that he shot his cum forcing his body tight into Barton’s cheeks and with his final lunge Barton let out a long moan as his spunk shot through Les’s hands and over the bonnet of the car in thick creamy wads.

It was too much for Danny who had to put one hand over his mouth to stifle his orgasm and as he arched his body his spunk shot out across the machine leaving a thick white stream running down the shaft.

Les let his cock slide out and as he tucked his dick back intohis blue coverall he wiped his hand over his cock head to remove the final bit of cum and then smeared it over the coverall.

‘Now get those trousers belted. That was a hell of service. I needed that and by the way your body was wobbling around you needed to shoot your bolt.

Just as well the car doesn’t need much servicing.’

‘Better get back to school so open up and let me out .’

Still wiping his coverall and giving his hairy chest a rub, Les opened the doors just a meter away from him. Barton got into his car and drove out giving a wave.

‘It won’t be long until I’m back for more,’ he shouted out the window

As Les turned round to walk back to his workbench so Danny was quietly able to slip out

Like anything that gives you such a turn on once you have watched just one time you need to see more and your cock tells you that you need to cum again. He could not believe that he had seen his ex teacher being fucked and his cock erupting with spunk. In bed that night he started dreaming and he was back at school and Barton was walking up and down in the classroom almost brushing his pot belly against Danny’s shoulder. Every now and again the teacher would stop and slightly bend over Danny’s book so his belly rubbed against his head. At these times his eyes were staring right at Barton’s crotch. He could see the outline stretching down one inside leg and now that he had actually seen it he knew what was going on in his inside leg. As Barton bent over to ask a question so Danny’s hand came up and started to stroke his cock and balls through his thick trousers. As he did so Barton pushed himself closer into Danny and he could feel the softness of his chest. The more he cupped Barton’s cock the more Barton let his belly push in to the point that Danny could almost feel his body vanishing into the thick mass. Barton’s cock grew bigger and bigger and by now it was positively erect pushing against the fabric needing to be taken out. Danny unzipped and let his hand in to fondle the stiff prick and heavy balls. He had to force Barton’s cock out such was its length. It seemed even bigger and thicker than he had seen at the garage. Barton’s cock was now staring at Danny’s mouth the massive head gleaming with precum.. All Danny wanted was to take the full length and feel his head totally buried in Barton’s chest. Barton took hold of Danny’s head and directed his mouth to the tip forcing his mouth open pushing his heavily veined prick into his mouth so Danny could take the flow of spunk, Danny could feel every thrust but he could take it all and wanted every inch his saliva juicing around the shaft. He could feel the heat from Barton’s body and the smell as a couple of buttons popped open and his hairy chest deep into Danny’s face. Danny could feel the throbbing, he knew Barton was ready to shoot.

Suddenly the dream finished and as Danny woke up breathing hard his body arched upwards and without even having his hand over his cock, it spewed cum all the way up his chest. What a dream but sadly not real.

The next day Danny was immediately drawn back to the garage and he decided that he could still hide and at last watch the horny guy in his oiled stained overalls. As he worked on a car so the ciggie still hung out one side of the mouth and every now and again he would take his hand and shove it down the open front to give his balls a rub.. That alone made Danny’s trackies tent with his stiff prick.

Suddenly Danny heard a noise behind him and outside the door the local council workie was parking his cart. He was a big guy, his hair shaved at the sides but the top part gelled back into a ponytail. He had a thick droopy moustache and his whole body looked as if he had done very little exercise. Wide shoulders but with a thick protruding beer belly. His dirty white T shirt was too tight and had risen up to show an expansive hairy belly which hung over his yellow thick belted Hi Viz trousers. He has a yellow matching nylon sleeveless jacket and then a thick yellow dirty HIViz jacket and was kept open to show off his massive body.

As he walked in he said ‘Hey Les it’s Thursday you know I always drop by for a blow job. By the time I get here I am always stiff as a poker thinking of that mouth of yours around my cock.’

‘Christ man you should not be walking around the street looking like that. Your fucking cock is sticking out a mile in those Hi Viz. And don’t worry I know the day of the week and have just been giving myself a nice rub waiting for you. So close the door and lets get on with it.’

The binman walked up to Les and putting his arm around his neck pulled him in to tongue him.

‘Shit where have you been today mate you’re stinking.’

‘Thought you liked that.’

‘I fucking do and whatever that it is it’s sure making me even hornier. Hope you’ve not washed yourself in a couple of days as I always like that cock of your stinking of dried piss.’

‘Don’t worry I make sure its rank for you.’

Les rubbed his hands up and down the HiViz nylon crotch.

‘Christ you are really hard today.’

‘So what you waiting for,’ the binman replied undoing his wide leather belt and letting his HiViz trousers slide over his erect cock and balls.

‘Jesus I didn’t think you have washed your prick for a week. What a fucking great smell.’ As Les let himself sink to his knees so he opened the remaining couple of buttons of his overall and brought out his own cock letting his heavy set balls flip out.

‘Big man, big cock’, Les said as he took hold of the binman’s balls and squeezed them firmly yanking them down so he could feel them both. As he did. so did the binman’s cock sprang up so it was almost vertical. Bill let his tongue lick over the binman’s head allowing him to savour the dried up piss.

‘Christ you are fucking high. Love it man.’

Holding the binman’s cock Les let his tongue travel down the full shaft making sure he savoured every inch until his tongue had licked the thick bushy pubes. As his tongue worked around the shaft so the binman’s cock reacted waving around. It had a nice banana shape making it look even more erect. Les brought his tongue back to the glistening head having now covered the shaft with his spit. He was ready to suck. Still holding the full length of the prick Les opened wide and let his mouth take in the head pausing to fill his mouth with more spit and little by little he let it slide down the shaft and all the time breathing in the pungent smell of stale piss. Once his mouth was taking in the full length, Les let his hands reach up to rub over the nylon of the HiViz. He loved HiViz gear and would often lounge about it at home when he felt horny. He let his hands move over the binman’s belly and ruck up his T shirt more so he could feel the full expanse. And tangle his hands in the mass of chest hair.

He started moving his head in and out, the spit drooling down his chin and the quicker he did it so he took one hand away and brought it down on to his own shaft. The binman was clearly ready to explode and so Les wanked himself faster and faster while feeling the guys cock throbbing for his orgasm.

‘I’m ready Les so swallow that cum of mine all the way down. The binman gave a final lunge into Les’s mouth and reached his orgasm, the spunk coming out too fast for Les to swallow so it gurgled out of his mouth and rolled down his chin on and onto his coverall. Feeling so much cum in his mouth mixed with the smell of piss was too much and Les let rip with his own cum across the floor some shooting onto the binman’s dirty worn boots.

‘I love fucking Thursdays man working on that cock of yours’

‘If you fucking love them so do I, getting rid of my cum. I always like to save some up for you mate.’

The two guys sorted them selves out and the Binman opened the door to go out . Danny had been so excited and transfixed that he had not managed to get his dribbling cock out for a wank. He could feel his cock tight against the machine and as he moved so a small part fell to the floor. Before Danny had time to figure anything out Les was across and dragged him out.

‘I fucking knew someone had been in when I saw spunk marks on the floor around here. And now you’ve been getting off watching me do a blow job, you little cretin. Get off on all this do you? Of course you fucking do look at that prick of your’s tenting in your trackies. Didn’t manage to cum then, though you’ve got a bloody large patch of precum on you. So what am I going to do with you. I’m not into skinny lad like you so not much point in wasting a fuck.’

‘I’m not into skinny lads either. I love real men with lots of hair and bellies. The bigger the better. I so often wish I was a bear  as you always go for each other which leaves me out of it. I so wish I was a a hairy bear and had the life you guys have. Feeling a bears pot belly would be perfect for me.’

‘Christ you are a horny little runt and its clear you would prefer to be a nice stinking hairy bear instead of your miserable little self.’

Les took hold of Danny shoulder

‘Right come with me. Time to sort you out.’

Danny was dragged across the floor and Les opened a door into what looked like a car spray booth.

‘Get yourself in there,’ as he threw Danny inside and then locked the door.

Danny was terrified. He was locked in a windowless room with the garage owner furious and clearly wanting some form of revenge. How long was he going to be kept inside and he had no phone to get a message out. He was stuck and there seemed little point in shouting due to the thick walls. As he huddled himself in a corner he was suddenly aware of some steam coming into the room. Just at first a little stream of steam but it quickly started to build up until he could feel himself enfolded by it. It seemed only steam as he was not choking or felt as it he was being poisoned. In fact it felt warm and comfortable. However as the steam became thicker so he was aware that his clothes seemed to be almost melting and sliding off his body. The steam had removed them and as he put his hand over his body he realized that he was totally naked. The steam continued to build up around him and he then started to feel a change to his body which he could not understand. It was as though he was being pulled apart, being stretched. He felt bigger, wider and yes even much taller. Even his face was being pulled apart. He could feel the blood rushing around his body surging warmth. It felt good in fact it felt bloody great to the point he was almost getting aroused.  He wanted to understand what was going on to his body so in the thick fog started to let his hands move over himself.

‘Christ was this me. Is this really my body?’

The first thing was his whole body seemed covered in a thick mass of hair, from his belly all the way up to his neck and as he put his hands behind him the hair seemed all over his back. Not just a little covering but curly thick hair. But as he brought his hands back to his belly he realized that he no longer had a cute waist but he seemed to have a large extended belly also hairy. There was no waist.

In shock he put his hands up to his face. Where was that smooth face that rarely needed shaving. Instead his hands fondled a thick beard all the way round his mouth and even thick into his neck. It was as if his body hair had come up and spread all across his head but wait, his head was bald. Smooth, all his head hair had gone. He started to feel his hands where were the long slender fingers. It was as if he now had slabs as fingers, thick with hair. He didn’t know what to think but the feeling kept changing because slowly he was no longer feeling naked. He put his hand to his chest and was aware he was now wearing a rubber vest which was making him sweat, it was tight against his body showing every outline. But there was more, he was now in something that seemed like an coverall all open at the front with rolled up sleeves and his feet were clearly in heavy boots.

His head started to go blank and he felt dizzy. He knew there was a change but could not figure it out. But something was erasing all his thoughts, he could hardly remember his name and what his history was. He struggled to regain himself but it was too late. For a moment there was a blank and then he could feel himself rough, tough and wanting to get out, his throat felt different, harder, and he knew his voice had changed.

‘Get me out of here you fucking moron.’ He suddenly shouted his voice much deeper and with a strong local accent.

The steam stated to evaporate and leave the room. The door clicked open and Danny stormed out.

‘What has fucking gone on’

‘Jesus’ Les replied ‘I didn’t ever expect you to look this this. The way you look is only because it’s the person you have wanted to be and bloody hell man what a fucking great bear you make. Have a look at yourself.’

Danny stood legs apart staring at the dirty mirror.

‘Fuuuucking great man. Shit what a hairy bear I now am and look the part of your mate in my coverall. I’m no longer Danny, what a fucking boyish name. I’m Dan from now on and I ain’ going back.’

Dan could not take his eyes of his new look. His black rubber vest had inched up  his hairy chest which was pushing out from his half open coverall, the sleeves were rolled out to show off thick hairy and tattooed arms, both arms totally covered in tats. His neck was as thick as his head and looked more so with the black curly bushy beard. Dan rubbed his hands over his shaved head.

Again he shouted ‘Fuuuucking great.’

His hand then moved down to his crotch as seeing this image of himself had started to make feel so horny.

‘Just as well my dick is the right proportion . It feels thick and meaty and by Christ its inching down my leg needing release and you Les are gonna give me that. Get over here As Les approached so Dan picked up a knife and then quickly turned Bill round using the knife to make a hole in the rear of his coverall just at arse level.

‘I wanna fuck you in your coverall. I know you have a great cock and I can get that up me later but now its my turn to shag you good and proper.

Dan undid to last two buttons and thrust his hand down his coverall leg giving himself and good rub before yanking it out. Les could feel the massive head rubbing against his cheeks.

‘Think you need some lube man to take this big prick of mine.’

Dan got hold of the oil can from the bench and smeared a great dollop over his cock rubbing it in.

‘We’re both dirty bear mechanics so you might as well have some of your gear up you. Get your legs apart. I wanna fuck you upright. Jesus that’s some fucking great thick prick I have. Nice thick vein and love it way it gets thicker and thicker up to my pubes. Means I can get inside you not too badly and then you can feel it more and more as I drive up to the hilt.’

Spreading Les’s heavy hairy cheeks apart Dan started to ease his well oiled cock deep into Les’s arse. He could almost hear it pop as it got past the entry and as he pushed more and more so Les groaned more heavily.

‘Shit if you wanted a big dick then you certainly got one. If feels fucking great. What a fuck.’ Dan sank his cock in until his coverall was rubbing against Les’s arse. He stopped when fully in and brought his hands around to Les’s chest opening up his coverall more so he could start massaging Bill’s nipples. They were big brown and stuck out just like a real bear of a man. Les groaned even more.

‘Don’t just rub them mate give me a good going over and nip and pull, sends me crazy.’

Dan started tightening his grip on the nipples and feeling them stretched made Dan feel even hornier.

‘I fucking love working a mates tits.’ Dan started to slide his cock in and out at first slowly almost to the point of taking his dick fully out and then rather than gently sliding back in he rammed. Les was loving his tits being worked so he started letting his arse move in rythnm to Dan’s cock lunges. Dan could feel himself sweating with his rubber vest and his chest hair was glistening underneath and he could smell his manly odour form his armpits. Good strong and what a bear should smell like.

The smell , Les’s tits and the feel of his cock tight in Les’s arse was working Dan up to a frenzy. Les could feel the throbbing cock and put his hand over his own thick dick taking some oil from the same can so his hand slid up and down as the oil dripped onto the floor but his cock glowed with oil and precum.. He was forcing himself back onto Dan;s cock as though he wanted to be speared.

Dan shouted,

‘I’m about to let my load right up you. Just hope it shoots out your bloody mouth mate.’

‘Go for it Dan my own cock is ready to burst.’

With a final shove dan shot his load up Les’s arse and Les shot his spunk out over the floor, with creamy white stains all over the floor.

The two men took their greasy hands over their faces to wipe off the sweat.

‘Now I know what it’s like to be a bear and I never want to go back. Fucking great man.’

‘Well Dan you might as well stay on as a mechanic I could do with some help so I’m not shagging all the time but at least getting some car repairs done.

‘Suits me mate. Mind you after that fuck it will be difficult not to keep wanting some more sessions and having seen you own cock I fancy that up my bum.’

‘Don’t worry I’ll give you one soon enough. It might also make it a bit more fun for some of our customers if there are two of us.’

‘Make sure when Barton is back I get to fuck him. That’s a dream to come true.’

‘Forget the dreams Dan its now reality, you are bruiser of a bear.’

[cuubism]

A heist for a crown for a king? 🤔👑

yes. dream deserves a crown. dream insists he doesn't need a crown, everybody knows he is king. also he has his helm. hob says how many times i gotta tell you it's not about NEEDING it. it's about how fucking sexy you'll look. that's the priority. also you deserve it. dream is still flummoxed.

may i propose a DREAM heist for a DREAM crown.

--

Hob was... definitely going to get in trouble for this.

"We're definitely going to get in trouble for this," said Matthew, perched on his shoulder. He tittered nervously. And Matthew was one of the most ride-or-die people-- birds?-- Hob had ever met, so this was not a good sign. "Like. Getting my wings cut off trouble."

"He's not going to cut your fucking wings off, Jesus Christ," said Hob. He crept through the dreamspace, keeping to the shadows so as to try to avoid alerting the dream itself to their presence. "Drawing and quartering is a lot more entertaining."

"HOB. What the fuck." Matthew's claws dug into his skin like he really did mean to separate Hob's arm from his shoulder.

Hob shrugged. "Didn't live through 'ye olde medieval times,' as you put it, for nothing."

"I didn't call it that."

"Yeah, you did. That's what I get for agreeing to watch A Knight's Tale, I suppose."

Matthew squawked. "It's a good movie!"

"It was a good movie right up until it managed to convince you that "We Will Rock You" was actually sung at jousts," said Hob.

"In my defense--" started Matthew, then clacked his beak shut. "Nah, actually, I don't have a defense for that. I must have been totally sloshed."

Hob snorted. "Oh, you were."

"Well, who decided it was a good idea to feed Bailey's to a raven?"

"There was no point at which I thought it was a good decision," said Hob. He couldn't help his grin. "I just don't mind making a bad one."

"And here I thought we were friends."

Hob slipped through a doorway, ducking around the next corner. The dream castle was significantly more winding than a real one. It was slow going.

He started humming to himself, an incongruously jaunty old execution ballad. "His quarters stand not all together, But ye mai hap to ring them thether..."

"I'm begging you to stop," said Matthew. "Has anyone ever told you that you have a serious problem?"

Hob laughed. "Many times."

A small group of people -- figments of the dreamscape -- strode around the corner. Hob ducked into a tiny alcove, one which hadn't been there before he'd thought of needing it. He was gradually getting better at manipulating the Dreaming.

And his heart was hammering. Dream theft or not, it was thrilling.

"Never thought I'd be part of fucking Inception," grumbled Matthew, peering to see if it was all clear.

Hob crept back out into the hall and up a spiral staircase. "This is way more fun than Inception."

"And way more dangerous."

"You loved the last outing!"

"Yeah, that one didn't involve sneaking around in my boss's subconscious."

Hob rolled his eyes. "It's not Dream's subconscious." Finally at the center of the absolute maze that was the castle, he spied his prize, and slipped right through the bulletproof glass to get at it. On a stand at the center of the room sat the most gorgeous tiara, a winding thing of diamond leaves and ruby berries. He grinned. "It's the Princess's."

He swiped the thing from its stand, leaving a weight in its place for the pressured alarm he was sure still existed even in a dream.

"Dream is the Dreaming, dude. We're gonna get caught."

"Well, that's why you're here, isn't it? It's normal for you to be in dreams, it's not for me. You're my cover. You'll make it way less likely for Dream to--"

And they were yanked from the dream.

"Drawn and quartered!" Matthew squeaked, and then they were standing in the throne room.

Dream was, of course, standing a few steps up on the grand staircase, glaring at them. Glaring at Hob, really. Matthew squawked again in fright, puffing up his feathers. Hob just grinned back at Dream.

"When I gave you free run of the Dreaming," Dream started, some of the menace Hob had heard him use with rogue nightmares on display, "this was not what I meant."

Hob wasn't afraid of Dream, though. Never had been. "Don't take it out on Matthew," he said. "Wasn't his idea."

Dream's stormy gaze flickered over to Matthew. "Matthew, you are dismissed. I will deal with you later."

Matthew didn't need to be told twice. He winged away out of the throne room, calling back, "Good luck with getting drawn and quartered, Hob!"

Dream raised an eyebrow. He still looked dreadfully unamused. "Drawn and quartered?"

"We've watched too many medieval movies," Hob explained.

"Ah." His gaze found the tiara clasped in Hob's hand. "What, exactly, is that?"

He obviously knew. It was made of dream stuff, after all. Still, Hob knelt and held it out to him. "For my liege."

Dream strode down the few steps separating them, fluid as water streaming over a fall, his long cloak trailing behind him. Majestic creature. Majestic king. Did he really expect Hob to be at all normal about it?

Dream plucked the tiara from Hob's hands. He tilted it back and forth. The light through the stained glass illuminated it in every color imaginable and cast refracted rainbows on his face. "You stole it from a dream."

Hob flashed him a crooked grin. "Guilty."

Dream tipped his head up with one fingertip under his chin, until Hob's neck was craned back and he was meeting his gaze. "That," he drawled, his eyes flashing dark, "is very disrespectful."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yes." Dream didn't release Hob's chin; if anything, he leaned closer so Hob had to look up even further. "Did you think you would not be caught? Creeping around in my halls?"

"We'll, I'm very good," Hob said. This was hardly the first thing he'd stolen for Dream, though it was the first one he'd attempted in the Dreaming.

"Or perhaps," continued Dream, and the darkness in his eyes looked hungry, now, though no less dangerous. "Perhaps, you wanted to be caught."

Hob winked at him, cheeks heating. "Well. I may be good, but I could hardly expect you not to feel it when it's your skirts I was rustling under."

"Is that what you were doing?" Dream swept his thumb along Hob's lip, dipping into his mouth. "Fiending for punishment?"

"Just trying to please my lord. Are you pleased, my love?"

"That is not quite the word I would use, dearest one." A sharp smile was creeping its way onto his lips, eyes burning with a dark warmth, like smoldering coals.

He placed the tiara on Hob's head.

Shadows dripped from it, falling over Hob's shoulders and back. Dream's hands lingered at Hob's temples, stroking his hair back behind his ears.

"Devoted one." His voice rumbled pleasantly through Hob's body, and Hob shivered. "Mischievous one. What am I to do with you?"

"Only whatever you want," said Hob, leaning into his touch. "As usual."

"Hmm. I think..."

Shadows fell around the throne room, dropped from the ceiling like banners and speckled like blackened stars. Hob knew those shadows, knew the way they were meant to intimidate though they did nothing but make him want more, make him hungrier, make him want to hold Dream close in every meaning of the word.

And he knew that bright darkness in his lover's eyes, too. The sky during an eclipse.

Dream drew him back to his feet. Hob stumbled in so they were a breath apart.

"Whatever prize you were seeking when you embarked on this foolhardy task?" Dream hummed, just before pulling Hob in to meet his lips. "I think you should claim it."

[lenisoldi]

Request/Genes Reaction

Masterlist

!TW!: Selfharming!

BoB boys reaction to your selfharming:

Welshy:

His cheerful expression dropped as he took a sharp intake of breath. His heart pounded hard in his chest as he reached out a steady hand, placing it gently on your shoulder. Harry's eyes were wide and serious, a rare sight, and he looked straight into yours, genuine concern etched into his features. "Hey," he said softly, "What's goin' on here? We need to talk about this." He had seen the scars before, but never fresh ones like these. He bit his lower lip nervously, trying to find the right words. How could anyone hurt themselves like this? His mind raced as he fought back a wave of protective anger. He remembered the countless times he had seen his comrades in pain, but this was different, more personal somehow. He felt helpless, yet determined to do something, anything to make it better.

Dick:

His heart skipped a beat as he carefully observed the faint lines etched on her skin. He'd seen plenty of injuries during war, but these were different - they weren't inflicted by an enemy; they were self-inflicted, hidden behind layers of uniforms and camaraderie. He gently reached out to touch her arm, his voice steady but tinged with concern. "What happened here?" He asked quietly, hoping he wasn't overstepping any boundaries. His cheerful demeanor momentarily faded, replaced by a look of deep worry. He'd known pain himself, but this... this was something entirely different. Oh God, how did I miss this? She's hurting herself, and I didn't even know. He thought to himself. "Come here." He pulled his wife into a deep hug.

Bill:

"Whoa!" Bill Guarnere exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up in alarm. His gaze landed squarely on the bloodied patches of your skin, the sight instantly draining the humor from his face. The cockiness momentarily disappeared as he took a few steps closer to you, eyes narrowing with concern. He clenched his jaw, struggling to find words as the gravity of the situation sank in. "Jesus Christ, what happened here?" he finally managed to ask, his voice gruff but gentle. His demeanor shifted from carefree to serious in a heartbeat, showing the protective side of him that usually only came out around those close to him. He reached out a hand tentatively, stopping just short of touching your arm, unsure if you needed space or comfort. „I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Bill." You cried, but just took you in his arms. „Shh, shh, hey, hey, it's ok, baby, look at me, it's ok. Just let's forget about this." He said and kissed your forehead.

Sparky:

Speirs raised an eyebrow in visible concern and then pulled you aside from the other men.  “Do you mind tellin’ me where those scars are from, Y/N?” He said to you in a calming manner, and yet you could see the hint of worry in his eyes. You didn't answer and just covered your arms. Speirs gently removed your hands from your arms, frowning at the sight of the scars. "Baby..” He sighed. “You know you can talk to me?” He said in a softer voice, looking into your eyes with a kind expression. He then pulled you into a gentle embrace, wrapping his arms around you carefully. You just began to cry and sob quietly. "Baby, don't cry, it's ok. Hey, look at me, it's ok." Ron gently took your face in his hands so you would look at him. “I don't know why..." Your voice broke and you just sobbed even more than before. “Speak to me.. Speak to me when you feel the urge to do it again next time. Promise it me, promise me that you will speak to me." He spoke, still looking into your eyes, his expression soft and loving. You nodded and added nearly inaudible: "I promise... I promise.." “I love you, darling. I love you so much.“ Ron whispered, kissing you on the forehead, and then on the lips.

Babe:

Babe looked at you with deep concern on his face as he noticed the unmistakable signs of self-harm. It ached his heart to see the pain behind your eyes. In a soft, gentle voice, he asked, "What's wrong, love? Why are you hurting yourself?" His words were filled with genuine care and understanding, careful not to sound judgmental or accusatory. He held out a hand with an open palm, hoping to offer some comfort. In his mind, he thought of all the times he had faced his own fears and how important it was to have someone to talk to in those dark moments. He wants to help, understand, and be there for you. While you hesitated to answer, Babe's gaze remained calm and caring, his eyes reflecting his deep compassion. He gently squeezed your hand, reassuring you that you were not alone. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it now, but please remember that I'm here when you're ready. We can tackle this together, like we tackle everything else." His voice was soothing, like a gentle breeze on a summer day. He wondered how long you had been struggling with this and why he hadn't noticed sooner. He promised himself he would be more attentive, be the rock you needed in times of need. Around you, the living room was silent except for the soft crackle of the fireplace in the background. The peaceful atmosphere was a sharp contrast to the turmoil he sensed within you. The warm glow of the lamps cast a calming hue on your faces, as if it encouraged openness and honesty between the two of you. Babe's thoughts were focused on you and your well-being, pushing aside any fears or worries he might have.

Web:

When David walked into the dimly lit living room after a long day at work, his heart immediately sank at the sight of your bandaged wrist. The usually bustling room filled with laughter now seemed heavy with unspoken words. He carefully set down his briefcase and walked over to the couch, where you sat quietly, trying to hide your discomfort. "Hey, what happened?" he asked softly, concern on his face. His gaze was warm but worried, and his voice had a sad undertone. The room was decorated with books, photos of their happy memories together at Harvard, and other wonderful moments they had collected over the years. Normally, the room looked cozy and inviting, but now it was just cold. He reached out tentatively, his hand hovering above the bandages for a brief moment before he decided against touching you. His mind raced with questions, but he didn't want to push too hard. He knew you needed space and understanding right now. What could have possibly led you to do this? How can I help? He thought desperately. With a deep breath, he sat down next to you, leaving a respectable distance between the two of you. His eyes searched yours, trying to gauge how much you were willing to share. "We're in this together, you know," he said softly. "Whatever it is you're going through, we can face it as a team." He paused, allowing his words to sink in before adding, "Do you feel comfortable talking about it? I'm here for you, no matter what." David's heart ached seeing you like this, and he wished he could take your pain away. His calm demeanor was a testament to his desire to be strong for you, but inside, he felt a storm brewing. You just leaned against him without saying anything and he decided to accept that you weren't ready to talk about it. The two of you just sat there, hugging each other for the rest of the night, before he noticed that you were asleep and carried you to your bed.

Toye:

The dimly lit room was quiet except for the distant sound of laughter from the hallway. Joe, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, couldn't help but notice something off about you tonight. Your usually bright eyes seemed clouded with sadness, and the sleeves of your shirt kept slipping down, revealing faint scars that told a painful story. He took a deep breath, his raspy voice barely audible even to himself. What's going on here? He thought. She's always so strong, what happened? Gathering all the courage he had, Joe approached you, his expression softening into one of concern. "Hey," he said gently, reaching out to carefully pull back your sleeve. "What are these?" he asked and pointed at your scars, trying to keep his tone neutral yet caring. The room suddenly felt smaller, and he swallowed hard, pushing aside his own playboy persona to make space for genuine worry. His heart sank as he saw the scars on your arm — clearly the result of self-harm. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, but he knew better than to react harshly. Instead, he kneeled down beside you, his gaze filled with empathy and understanding. "Whoa, hey now," he whispered softly, his rough voice betraying the tenderness he felt. "These scars... they ain't right. What's been goin' on?" He took your hand in his, gently rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. She needs someone to lean on right now, and I'm gonna be that person. Joe's playboy facade crumbled away, revealing the sweet, caring man beneath. He remembered his own battles and how hard it was to open up about his feelings, so he waited patiently, silently offering you the support you needed at this moment.