#let them burn without anyone keeping an eye on em?

[fireflowersims]

Imagine it's 3:30 AM, you're in bed, sleeping like, ya know, a normal person does, whrn suddenlt you are workn up by noises

Is it rodents? Is it a big-ass freight plane? Is it a disaster? Are sirens foing off? No, no, no and no

IT'S YOUR ASSHOLE BITCH OF A ROOMMATE SLAMMING DOORS, AGGRESSIVELY UNLOCKING HER DOOR AND LEAVING AGAIN!

Oh and did I mention you wake up to the amell of nicotine in your bed?

Your bed that is as far away from he door as possible?

I lid you not I woke up to that fuckign stench IN MY BED

I can't stand this, I should issue a complaint to the landlord. This is incredibly anti-social behavior.

What fucking reason could she have to come in this late/early, WAKE PEOPLE UP, then leave the house again?!??!

I don't know, I don't care, I just want to sleep damnit.

[jupiterpilgrim]

Teach 'Em a Lesson: The Bold Guide to Putting Bullies in Their Place

Gaeul x Male Reader

word count: 7.2K

You're chilling at Gaeul's place with the crew, sprawled on her comfy couch playing Pokemon on your phone. Your friends are getting restless, talking about grabbing some pizza from that fancy joint across town.

"Yo guys, let's roll! I'm fucking starving," one of your friends says, jangling the car keys.

Everyone starts walking towards the door, but there's only room for five, and there are six of you. Well, you are very focused on your game, so without much suffering you accept the mission to be exiled from the pizza run.

But...

Gaeul waves goodbye to them, saying she'll stay behind as well.

"Someone's gotta babysit the nerd," she snickers, jerking her thumb at you.

You barely look up from your game, used to her constant teasing. At 5'5; Gaeul's a tiny thing but she makes up for it with attitude. Her boyish style - baggy jeans, oversized hoodie hiding her small tits - doesn't stop her from being hot as fuck.

Not that you'd ever admit that to her face.

The door slams shut and suddenly it's just you two. The silence feels different now. Gaeul flops down next to you, peering at your screen.

"Seriously? Pokemon? No wonder you can't get any pussy,” she taunts, poking your arm.

"Fuck off, I date plenty," you mutter, trying to focus on your battle.

She lets out a bark of laughter. "Yeah right! Name one girl you've fucked."

"None of your fucking business." Your ears burn but you keep your eyes on the screen.

"Ha! Virgin alert!" She's grinning now, enjoying getting under your skin. "Bet you've never even kissed anyone. Too busy jerking it to anime titties."

Your jaw clenches. "I said: fuck off…"

"I don't know how we have friends in common."

"Shut up, Gaeul..."

"Make me, virgin boy!" She snatches your phone, holding it just out of reach. "What're you gonna do about it?"

Something snaps inside you. In one fluid motion, you grab her wrist and pin her against the couch. She squeaks in surprise, eyes going wide. your phone falls onto the couch seat next to you.

"The fuck did you just call me? Say it again!" you growl, pressing her down. Your body covers hers completely.

"I-I... virgin boy?" Her voice wavers but there's a glint in her eye that wasn't there before.

You grip both her wrists now, holding them above her head. "Ha! Wrong answer."

Her breath hitches. You can feel her pulse racing under your fingers. That's when you notice it - the way she's squirming isn't to get away. Her thighs press together, hips shifting restlessly.

"Holy shit," you breathe. "You like this, don't you? The tough girl act is just that - an act."

"N-no!" But her face flushes red and her nipples are hard points visible through her hoodie.

You lean down, lips brushing her ear. "Lying bitch! I can feel how wet you are through your jeans." She whimpers, and that sound goes straight to your cock. "Wanna see how much of a virgin I am?" You grind against her, letting her feel how hard you are.

"What the fuck are you doing?!"

"Just proving that even an annoying brat like you can turn me on too."

"Fuck you, n-nerd…" she whispers, but there's no bite in it. Her pupils are dilated, chest rising and falling rapidly.

"I'm not fucking kidding. Bedroom. Now." You release her wrists but maintain eye contact, daring her to disobey.

For a moment she hesitates, then scrambles up and leads the way to her room.

The second you're through her door, you grab her hoodie and yank it over her head. No bra underneath - her small tits are perfect handfuls topped with hard pink nipples.

"Fucking slut, walking around braless," you growl, pinching one nipple roughly. She cries out, legs trembling. "Bet you were hoping for this, weren't you?"

"No, I... ah!" She gasps as you twist harder.

"Still lying?" You spin her around, bending her over the edge of her bed. "Let's see how wet you really are."

You pull her jeans and cotton boyshorts down to her knees. Her pussy is dripping, juice running down her thighs.

"Look at that," you laugh darkly, running two fingers through her folds. "Soaked just from being manhandled a little. What a pathetic little sub you are."

“I-I'm not pathetic…”

She tries to close her legs but you kick them apart, keeping her spread wide. Your fingers circle her clit, making her moan.

"Please..." she whimpers.

"Please what?" You slide one finger inside her tight hole. "Use your words, slut."

"Please... oh… fuck me..." Her voice is barely a whisper.

You add a second finger, pumping them slowly. "What was that? Couldn't hear you."

"Fuck me!" she practically screams. "Please, I need your cock!"

"That's better." You pull your fingers out and wipe them on her ass. "But first..."

Your hand comes down hard on her right cheek. She yelps but pushes back for more.

"Gonna spank this attitude right out of you."

You alternate cheeks, watching them bounce and jiggle. Each hit makes her pussy drip more, a puddle forming on the floor. Her ass turns a beautiful shade of pink.

"Count them," you order.

SMACK!

"One!" she gasps.

SMACK!

"Two!"

By ten, she's sobbing and rutting against nothing. Her ass is bright red and hot to the touch.

"Good girl," you purr, rubbing the beaten flesh. "Now, on your knees!"

Half nervous and half anxious, she hurriedly gets rid of the pieces of clothing still on her knees, almost tripping in the process.

You take off your shoes and unzip your jeans, taking off your pants along with your underwear, letting your rock-hard cock spring free.

The sight before you makes your cock throb with anticipation - Gaeul, the annoying little brat who's been pushing your buttons for months, completely naked and on her knees in her bedroom. Her petite body trembles slightly as she stares at your massive erection, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and unmistakable lust.

You've finally figured out her game. All those times she went out of her way to irritate you, to get under your skin - it wasn't just random bitchiness. No, this pathetic slut has been desperately trying to get your attention the only way she knew how.

"Like what you see?" you growl, slowly stroking your shaft. "This is what you've been after all along, isn't it?"

Gaeul swallows hard, her small breasts rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. Her nipples are rock hard, betraying her arousal despite her attempts to play innocent.

"I... I don't know what you mean..." she stammers, but her eyes remain locked on your cock.

You step closer, close enough that your cockhead brushes against her flushed cheek. She gasps but doesn't pull away.

"Don't play dumb with me, you little tease. All those times you went out of your way to annoy me, to get under my skin... you were just begging to be put in your place, weren't you?"

Your hand shoots out to grab a fistful of her silky black hair, yanking her head back roughly. She yelps in surprise and pain, but you can see her thighs pressing together, trying to relieve the ache between them.

"Look at you, getting wet just from being manhandled again," you taunt, using your free hand to slap your cock against her cheek. "Such a pathetic little slut. Admit it - admit what you really are!"

"Please..." she whimpers, squirming under your grip.

You tighten your hold on her hair, making her gasp. "That's not what I want to hear. Tell me the truth - tell me why you've been such an annoying little bitch."

Tears form in the corners of her eyes, but they're not tears of fear or pain.

No.

These are tears of shameful arousal as she finally faces what she really is.

"Because... I-I'm sorry… because I wanted this," she whispers.

"Wanted what? Be specific, whore."

"I wanted you to get angry! To put me in my place!" The words burst from her like a dam breaking. "I wanted you to see what a desperate slut I am! Please... please use me..."

You smirk, satisfied with her confession. "That's better. Now open that bratty mouth of yours - time to put it to better use than talking back to me."

Gaeul parts her lips eagerly as you press your cockhead against them. Her tongue darts out to taste you, making your shaft twitch. But you're not interested in letting her take her time exploring.

Gripping both sides of her head firmly, you thrust forward, forcing your thick cock past her lips. She gags immediately as you hit the back of her throat, but you don't let up.

"Relax that throat, slut," you command. "You wanted my attention? Well, now you've got all of it."

You start fucking her face properly, each thrust going deeper than the last. Tears stream down her cheeks as she struggles to accommodate your size, but her eyes are glazed with unmistakable lust.

"Look at you, choking on cock like you were born for it," you taunt as you bottom out in her throat. Her nose presses against your pelvis as you hold yourself deep, cutting off her air. "Is this what you imagined when you were being an annoying little tease? Getting your throat used like a cheap fleshlight?"

Gaeul can only make gurgling sounds in response, drool running down her chin and coating your shaft. You hold yourself there until her face starts turning red, then pull back to let her gasp for air.

"Please..." she begs hoarsely between coughs. "I need more... need you to fuck my pussy too..."

"Oh, you'll get that tight cunt stuffed soon enough," you promise. "But first, I'm going to make sure you never forget what happens to bratty little sluts who don't know how to ask nicely for cock."

You slam back into her mouth, setting a brutal pace that has her gagging and retching around your shaft. Her throat spasms beautifully with each deep thrust, but she doesn't try to pull away. Instead, she grabs your thighs, trying to take you even deeper.

"Such a natural cocksucker," you grunt, watching your dick disappear between her stretched lips over and over. "All that attitude, and all you really needed was to be throat-fucked into submission."

After thoroughly using her mouth, you finally pull out. Gaeul gasps for air, her face a mess of tears, drool, and smeared makeup. Without giving her time to recover, you grab her arms and throw her onto the bed.

"Ass up, face down," you order. "Show me that needy pussy you've been hiding under those baggy jeans."

She scrambles to obey, getting into position and arching her back to present herself to you. Her pussy is absolutely drenched, her inner thighs glistening with her arousal. You run your cock through her soaked folds, coating it in her juices.

"Fuck, you really are desperate for it," you observe. "Your cunt's practically drooling. Beg for it, slut! Tell me how badly you need this cock."

"Please fuck me!" she cries out, pushing back against your teasing shaft. "I need it so bad... need you to fill me up and use me like the whore I am! I've been such a bad girl, teasing you all this time... please punish my pussy!"

You line up with her entrance and thrust in hard, making her scream. Her cunt is incredibly tight, gripping your cock like a vice as you force your way deeper. Each inch stretches her walls, making her whole body tremble.

"Fuck, you really are a desperate little slut," you grunt, starting to pound her roughly. "Your pussy's practically sucking me in. Is this what you've been dreaming about while playing your little games?"

Gaeul moans uncontrollably, her whole body shaking as you ravage her tight hole. Each brutal thrust makes her small tits bounce and jiggle. You reach down to pinch and twist her nipples, making her clench even tighter around your cock.

"Yes! Yes! Harder!" she begs shamelessly. "Use my slutty pussy! Make me your fucktoy! I've wanted this for so long!"

You increase your pace, slamming into her cervix with each stroke. The wet sounds of your cock plowing her needy cunt fill the room, along with her desperate moans and whimpers. Her pussy gets wetter and wetter, practically gushing around your shaft.

"You're going to cum on my cock like the whore you are," you tell her. "Then I'm going to take that virgin asshole too. Going to claim every hole you've got."

Her pussy spasms at your words.

"My... my ass? But I've never... No… it's too big..."

"That tight little hole belongs to me now," you growl, reaching around to rub her clit roughly as you continue pounding her pussy. "I'm going to stretch it out and fill it with cum. Mark you as my personal fucktoy."

Gaeul's moans rise in pitch, her body tensing up as your fingers work her sensitive clit. Combined with the relentless pounding of her pussy, it's quickly pushing her toward the edge.

"Cum for me, slut. Show me how much you love being used like this."

She screams as her orgasm hits, her pussy clamping down hard on your cock. You fuck her through it mercilessly, prolonging her pleasure until she's sobbing and shaking uncontrollably.

Without pulling out, you gather some of her abundant wetness and press a finger against her virgin asshole. She whimpers as you slowly work it inside, her tight ring of muscle resisting the intrusion.

"Please be gentle..." she begs. "I've never had anything in there..."

"You'll take what I give you," you growl, adding a second finger to stretch her tight hole. "This ass is mine now, just like the rest of you."

You finger-fuck her thoroughly, making sure she's ready for your cock. Her whimpers of discomfort gradually turn to moans of pleasure as her body adjusts to the new sensation. You can feel her pushing back against your fingers, hungry for more.

Finally, you pull out of her pussy and press your cockhead against her stretched asshole. "Deep breath, slut. Here comes your first assfucking."

You push forward slowly but steadily, watching your cock disappear into her virgin hole. Gaeul cries out, clutching the sheets as you stretch her wider than your fingers did. Her whole body trembles as you claim her last untouched hole.

"That's it, take it all," you encourage as you sink deeper. "Such a good little anal slut... taking cock in your virgin ass like you were made for it."

When you're fully buried in her ass, you pause to let her adjust. Her whole body is shaking, caught between pain and pleasure as her tight hole stretches around your thick shaft.

"Move..." she finally whispers, her voice thick with need. "Please... fuck my ass... make me completely yours..."

You start with slow, shallow thrusts, gradually building up speed and depth. Her tight hole grips your cock beautifully, sending waves of pleasure through you. Each stroke becomes easier as her body accepts the invasion.

"Look at you, taking cock in your virgin ass like a natural," you taunt, watching your shaft disappear into her stretched hole over and over. "You really are just a complete whore, aren't you? Born to take cock in all your holes."

"Yes, sir!" she moans, pushing back to meet your thrusts. "I'm your whore! Your anal slut! Please fuck me harder! Use my ass!"

You grant her wish, picking up the pace until you're properly fucking her ass. The sight of your cock plunging in and out of her stretched hole is incredible. You reach around to play with her dripping pussy, finding her clit swollen and sensitive.

"You're actually getting off on having your ass fucked," you marvel, feeling how wet she still is. "Such a perfect little fucktoy... getting your virgin ass stretched and loving every second of it!"

Gaeul can only moan in response, her body rocking with each thrust. You can feel her getting close to another orgasm, her holes clenching rhythmically around your cock and fingers.

"Cum for me again," you order, rubbing her clit faster. "Cum while I fuck this tight ass. Show me what a complete slut you've become."

Your fingers work her sensitive nub as you pound her ass, and soon she's screaming through another intense orgasm. The way her asshole spasms around your cock pushes you closer to your own climax.

"Where do you want my cum, slut?! Tell me how you want me to mark you as mine."

"In my ass!" she begs desperately. "Please cum deep in my ass! Fill me up... make me yours completely! I want to feel your hot cum inside me!"

You grab her hips with both hands and start fucking her ass with abandon, chasing your release. Her tight hole feels amazing, squeezing and milking your cock perfectly. Each thrust makes her whole body shake, her moans getting louder and more desperate.

"Take it all," you grunt as you finally explode, flooding her ass with hot cum. "Every last fucking drop... marking this tight hole as mine forever..."

You stay buried deep as you empty yourself inside her, making sure she takes every drop of your seed. When you finally pull out, cum immediately starts leaking from her gaping hole, running down her thighs in thick rivulets.

Gaeul collapses onto the bed, thoroughly used and satisfied. Her holes are red and swollen, leaking your cum and her own juices. You give her ass a hard slap, making her jump and moan weakly.

"From now on, you're mine," you tell her firmly. "No more bratty behavior - unless you want another lesson like this one. Understand?"

She looks back at you with glazed eyes, cum still dripping from her well-fucked ass. "Yes, sir... I'll be good, I… fuck… I promise..."

“Too busy catching Pikachus to catch some pussy, huh? What a shitty stereotype…”

"I thoug-"

“Shut up. Answer me: still think I'm a virgin?" you ask with a smirk.

She laughs weakly. "Definitely not. Fuck, I'm not gonna be able to sit right for days.”

"Good." You give her ass one final smack, making her yelp. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before talking shit.”

"Maybe," she grins. "Or maybe I'll just have to keep provoking you."

You grab her hair, pulling her in for a rough kiss. "Careful what you wish for, little slut. I might just have to teach you another lesson." She moans into the kiss. Your lips move down to her neck, where you leave a few bite marks, just so she remembers you when she looks in the mirror later. "The others will be back soon," you remind her. "Better clean yourself up before they see what a whore you really are."

Gaeul struggles to sit up, wincing at the soreness in her ass.

You head back to the living room, leaving her to clean up the mess you made of her. When you settle back on the couch and pick up your phone, the Pokemon game is still running.

A few minutes later, Gaeul emerges, walking down the stairs with a certain distrust in her expression, wearing fresh clothes, but walking with a slight limp. She sits gingerly on the opposite end of the couch, unable to meet your eyes.

"Something wrong?" you ask innocently. "You're usually so talkative."

She squirms uncomfortably. "Shut up..."

"That's not very nice, Gaeul." You give her a warning look. "Do we need another lesson already?"

Gaeul's eyes go wide and she quickly shakes her head. "No! Not now! I-I mean... I'll be good."

"That's what I thought." You turn back to your game with a satisfied smile, knowing you've finally found the perfect way to handle your bratty tomboy bully.

—

The sound of cars pulling up outside announces the return of your friends. Gaeul quickly tries to fix her messy hair and straighten her clothes, but there's no hiding the fresh bite marks on her neck or the slight tremor in her hands.

"Hey guys, we're back with pizza!" calls out one of your friends as they enter the house. "Hope you two didn't kill each other while we were gone!"

If they only knew.

Your friends pile into the living room, carrying several pizza boxes and drinks. They seem oblivious to the tension in the air or the way Gaeul can barely sit still.

"Everything okay?" one of them asks, noticing Gaeul's unusual quietness. "You seem different."

“I'm fucking fine!”

Gaeul blushes deeply. Your friends look confused but shrug it off, too focused on the food to question further.

As everyone settles in to eat, you catch Gaeul stealing glances at you when she thinks no one is looking. Each time your eyes meet, she quickly looks away, but you can see the mixture of fear and arousal in her expression.

You make sure to sit next to her on the couch, close enough that your thigh presses against hers. She tenses but doesn't move away, especially when you rest your hand on her knee under the pretense of reaching for a slice of pizza.

"So what did you guys do while we were gone?" someone asks between bites.

"Just played some games," you say casually, squeezing Gaeul's thigh. "Taught Gaeul a few new things."

She nearly chokes on her pizza, earning concerned looks from your friends. "Are you okay?" they ask as she coughs.

"Fine," she manages to say. "Just... went down the wrong way."

You smirk, knowing exactly what went down her throat earlier. Your hand slides higher up her thigh, making her squirm.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of pizza, conversation, and subtle torment as you continue to tease Gaeul under the radar of your oblivious friends. Every touch makes her jump, every whispered comment makes her blush.

Now you understand why she teases you.

It's so fucking pleasurable.

When everyone finally starts heading home for the night, you hang back, pretending to look for your phone. As the last friend leaves, you corner Gaeul in the kitchen.

"Think you learned your lesson?" you ask, pressing her against the counter.

She nods quickly, her breath catching as you lean in close. "Yes... I won't be mean anymore."

"Good girl." You grab her ass roughly, making her gasp. "But just to make sure it sticks..."

Before she can protest, you spin her around and bend her over the kitchen counter. Your hand slides into her shorts, finding her already wet.

"Fuck, you're soaked again," you growl in her ear. "Did you get turned on sitting there in front of everyone, knowing what a whore you are?"

"Please," she whimpers. "They might come back..."

"Better be quiet then." You pull her shorts down just enough to expose her ass and pussy. "Wouldn't want them to see their tough tomboy friend being used like a fucktoy."

You unzip your pants and line up with her entrance, sliding into her still-tight pussy in one smooth thrust. Gaeul bites her lip to keep from moaning as you start fucking her against the counter.

"Such a good little slut now," you grunt, gripping her hips. "Amazing what a proper fucking can do to fix an attitude problem."

Your pace increases, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the kitchen. Gaeul's legs shake as she tries to stay quiet, small whimpers escaping despite her best efforts.

You reach around to rub her clit while you pound into her, feeling her pussy clench around your cock. Her whole body trembles as another orgasm approaches.

"Please," she whispers desperately. "I'm so close..."

"Cum for me," you command, working her clit faster. "Show me what a good girl you can be."

Gaeul buries her face in her arm to muffle her scream as she cums hard, her pussy spasming around your shaft. You fuck her through her orgasm until she's practically sobbing from overstimulation.

Just as you're about to cum, you pull out and spin her around, forcing her to her knees. "Open your mouth. Take your reward like a good slut."

She obeys immediately, looking up at you with those big eyes as you stroke your cock. With a grunt, you explode all over her face, covering her in thick ropes of cum.

"Don't move," you order as you tuck yourself away. "I want to remember you like this - on your knees, covered in my cum, finally learning your place."

Gaeul stays still, cum dripping down her face onto her chest. She looks thoroughly debauched and completely submissive.

"Clean yourself up," you say, heading for the door. "And remember - any time you start acting like a bitch again, this is what happens."

As you leave her house, you can't help but smile thinking about how different things will be now. The dynamic between you and Gaeul has shifted completely - no more will she bet the untouchable tomboy who loves to torment you. Now you know what she really needs, what she's been craving all along.

—

You sit in class, bored as fuck scrolling through your phone under the desk. A notification pops up - it's from Gaeul. Your heart skips a beat seeing that familiar contact name. Opening the message, you nearly drop your phone - this crazy bitch sent you a pic of her tight ass with an anal plug inserted, taken in what looks like the girls' bathroom. The caption reads "Missing your fat cock stretching me out... meet me after class? 😈"

You adjust yoursel in secret, already getting hard remembering how you bent her over your desk yesterday and fucked her tight ass until she was begging for more. It still amazes you how things changed between you two. For months she tormented you - calling you names, tarnishing your image at college, making fun of you in front of your friends…

Until that one day you finally snapped.

Now here you are three months later, sexting during class while pretending nothing's changed in public, with a phone full of filthy videos and pictures of your former bully. Videos of her fucking herself with toys, close-ups of her stretched holes, clips of her begging for your cock. On the surface she still acts tough, but you know the truth - she's just a needy anal slut who craves being dominated.

Your phone buzzes again - another pic from the bathroom, this time showing her fingers buried in her dripping pussy. "Can't wait anymore... Come fuck me NOW!!"

You raise your hand, making up some bullshit excuse about feeling sick. The professor waves you out and you practically run to the second floor bathroom where you know she's waiting. The halls are empty since class is still in session.

You slip inside the second floor bathroom and there she is - still in her typical tomboy getup of baggy jeans and oversized hoodie. Her short hair is slightly messy and her cheeks are flushed. The contrast between her tough exterior and what you know lies underneath makes your cock throb.

"Took you long enough, nerd," she smirks, but you can see the desperate hunger in her eyes. Her tough girl act doesn't work on you anymore - not since you discovered what a submissive little slut she really is.

"Shut the fuck up," you growl, grabbing her by the throat and slamming her against the cold tile wall. She gasps, her pupils dilating with lust. "Sending me pictures like that while I'm in class... you're such a desperate whore."

"Hmm, maybe I am," she taunts, grinding against your obvious bulge. "What are you gonna do about it?"

You tighten your grip on her throat, using your other hand to roughly grope her small tits through her clothes. Even through the baggy fabric you can feel her hard nipples. "I'm gonna remind you exactly who owns this body."

"Big talk from a ne-" Her words cut off in a moan as you spin her around and bend her over the sink, yanking those loose jeans down to her thighs. She's not wearing any underwear, the slut. The metal plug glints between her ass cheeks, just like in the picture she sent.

"Look at you, walking around with a plug in your ass like a proper anal whore." You give her pale ass a hard slap, leaving a red handprint. "Bet you've been thinking about my cock all morning."

"Fuck... yes..." she admits, dropping the attitude as you start playing with the plug. "Haven't stopped thinking about it since last night..."

You slowly twist and pull the plug, watching her asshole grip the metal. "Tell me what you want. I want to hear the tough tomboy beg."

"Please..." she whimpers as you pop the plug out, her hole gaping slightly. "Need your cock in my ass..."

"Not good enough." You spit on her exposed hole and start working one finger in while she squirms. "Be specific. Tell me exactly what you need."

"I need... fuck..." A second finger joins the first, stretching her wider. "Need you to fuck my ass raw... need you to remind me what a slut I am..."

"Keep going." Three fingers now, roughly fucking her loosened hole while she pants and moans. "Tell me how this nerd turned you into such a whore."

"You... ah!... you showed me what I really am..." Her pussy is literally dripping onto the floor as you finger-fuck her ass. "Showed me that I'm just a cockhungry anal slut... please, I need it so bad..."

"Need what?" You curl your fingers, making her gasp.

"Need your fat cock stretching my ass! Need you to fuck me like the worthless whore I am! Please, I'll do anything!" She's practically sobbing now, all traces of her usual attitude gone.

You pull your fingers out and quickly undo your pants, letting your rock hard cock spring free. "Look at yourself in the mirror while I fuck you. I want you to watch yourself break."

Her eyes meet yours in the reflection as you line up with her gaping hole. Without warning you thrust all the way in, making her cry out. The sound echoes off the bathroom walls but you don't care - you need to put this bratty bitch in her place.

"Fuck! So big..." she moans as you establish a brutal pace, watching your cock disappear into her tight asshole over and over. She tries to muffle herself by biting her sleeve but you grab her hair and yank her head up.

"No. I want to hear every slutty sound you make. Let everyone know what a whore you are." You reach around to roughly pinch her nipples through her hoodie. "Who would believe that the tough tomboy loves taking it up the ass?"

"Only... only for you..." she pants, her whole body shaking as you rail her. "You're the only one who gets to use me like this..."

"Damn right." You pull almost all the way out before slamming back in, making her yelp. "This ass belongs to me. I fucking own you."

Your words make her moan even louder. You can see in the mirror how completely wrecked she looks - face flushed, eyes glazed, mouth hanging open as she takes your cock. Such a different sight from her usual cocky expression.

"Touch yourself," you command. "Play with that dripping pussy while I destroy your ass."

She immediately reaches down to rub her clit, her fingers moving frantically. The extra stimulation makes her ass clench around you even tighter. "Gonna... gonna cum soon..."

"Already? Such a slutty response." You increase your pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the bathroom. "Cumming from getting your ass fucked in a public bathroom... what would your friends think if they could see you now?"

"Don't care... fuck... just don't stop!" She's openly crying now, tears of pleasure running down her face as you pound her mercilessly.

You grab her hips hard enough to bruise and really start hammering into her. Each thrust makes her whole body jerk forward, her small tits bouncing under the hoodie. "Come on then, cum for me. Show me what a buttslut you are."

Her orgasm hits hard - her ass spasms around your cock as she practically screams into her sleeve, her legs shaking so bad you have to hold her up. You don't slow down, fucking her through the intense climax.

"Good girl... but we're not done yet." You pull out suddenly, making her whine at the emptiness. "On your knees. Time to remind you what you're good for."

She drops to her knees immediately, looking up at you with those desperate eyes. Your cock is right in her face, still slick from her ass. Without being told, she opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue.

"That's right, taste yourself like the dirty slut you are." You slap your cock against her tongue a few times before shoving it down her throat. She gags but takes it like a champ, months of practice evident in how she relaxes her throat.

You grab her short hair with both hands and start properly facefucking her, using her mouth like a pussy. Tears stream down her face and drool drips from her chin but she doesn't try to pull away. If anything she moans around your cock, clearly loving the rough treatment.

"Look at me while I use your throat," you command. Her eyes lock onto yours, full of submission and need. "Such a good little fucktoy... so different from the bitch who used to bully me..."

She reaches down to play with herself again as you fuck her face, two fingers buried in her soaking pussy while her other hand works her clit. The sight of the former bully masturbating while choking on your cock pushes you closer to the edge.

"Gonna cum... gonna paint that pretty face..." You pull out of her mouth, still gripping her hair. "Stick out your tongue and beg for it."

"Please..." her voice is hoarse from the throat fucking. "Please, babe, cum on my face... mark me as your whore... I need it..."

You stroke yourself rapidly, aiming at her upturned face. "Here it comes slut... take it all..."

Your orgasm hits like a truck, shooting thick ropes of cum all over her face. Some lands on her tongue but most covers her cheeks, nose, and forehead. She moans as you mark her, still frantically fingering herself.

"Don't you dare wipe it off," you pant as the last drops fall onto her lips. "I want you to remember who owns you."

She nods, face completely glazed with your seed. "Yours... all yours..."

You tuck yourself back in while she stays on her knees, cum slowly dripping down her face. "Clean yourself up and get back to class. But leave the plug in - I want your ass ready for round two later."

"Yes sir," she says softly, finally dropping the last pretense of attitude.

As you head for the door, you turn back for one last look. She's still kneeling there, face covered in cum, jeans around her thighs, asshole gaping slightly.

Such a perfect sight.

"Oh and Gaeul?" You smirk as she looks up at you. "Try not to be such a bitch for the rest of the day. Or I'll have to teach you another lesson."

She shivers at the threat, clearly already looking forward to it. "No promises... might need another reminder later."

You leave her there to clean up, already planning how you'll use her next. Who would've thought that all it took to tame the tomboy bully was a good ass fucking?

The bell rings as you head back to class, already getting hard again thinking about round two. Maybe you take her home and fuck her in your bed, or if she can't wait that long, an empty classroom will do just as well.... The possibilities are endless when you have such an eager anal whore at your disposal.

—

Later that week, you're hanging out with friends at the campus coffee shop when Gaeul suggests everyone come to her place to watch something.

—

The movie blares on the TV screen, flickering shadows across the room. Your friends are all sprawled out, zoned in, eyes glued to the action unfolding. But you? You’re only half-paying attention because Gaeul's sitting beside you, her hand resting a little too close, fingers drumming against the couch arm. Every slight touch feels like electricity shooting through your veins.

Then she shifts, stretches out her arms with a feigned yawn. "I'm grabbing something upstairs," she mumbles to the room. No one even looks up. She rises, tossing a quick, knowing glance your way before slipping out. Your cock throbs in your pants as you watch her walk away, her ass moving in those intentionally short shorts.

You count to sixty slowly before making your own excuse.

"Just gonna grab another beer," you say casually. No one even looks up from the TV.

Perfect.

Your heart pounds as you climb the stairs, already imagining how you're going to wreck that tight ass. The door to Gaeul's bedroom is slightly ajar, warm light spilling into the hallway. You open the door slowly and there she is, sitting cross-legged on the bed, waiting for you, her ankle bouncing impatiently.

“I thought you’d never show up,” she says with a smile.

Without wasting any time, you approach and spin Gaeul around and roughly bend her over the edge of the bed, yanking her panties down in one swift motion. Your cock throbs at the sight of her tight little asshole already glistening with lube - this dirty slut came prepared, knowing she was going to get her ass destroyed tonight.

"Fucking horny little whore," you growl, giving her ass a hard slap that makes her yelp. "Already lubed up and ready for my cock. Bet you've been thinking about this all day."

"Please," she whimpers, pushing her ass back toward you. "Need it so bad..."

You unzip your pants and pull out your rock-hard cock, giving it a few slow strokes as you admire her puckered hole. Your free hand spreads her ass cheeks wider, making her squirm with anticipation.

"Beg for it," you command, rubbing your cockhead teasingly against her entrance. "Tell me exactly what you want."

"Fuck, please... need your fat cock in my tight little asshole," she pants desperately. "Want you to stretch me open and wreck my ass while everyone's downstairs. Please fuck me like the anal slut I am!"

You press your thick tip against her hole, watching it start to stretch around your girth. "Such a dirty fucking whore, begging to get ass-fucked with your friends right below us. What would they think if they knew their tough tomboy friend was really just a cock-hungry buttslut?"

Gaeul moans as you start pushing into her impossibly tight hole. The lube helps, but her ass still grips your cock like a vice as you feed more and more of your length into her. You can feel every ridge and fold of her inner walls clinging to your shaft.

"Holy fuck, you're so tight... No matter how many times I ruin your ass, it always looks like virgin territory," you grunt, gripping her hips harder. "That little asshole is squeezing my cock so good."

"More," she gasps, biting down on her pillow to muffle her sounds. "Fill me up, stretch my ass open!"

You continue pushing forward until your balls are pressed against her dripping pussy. Your entire cock is buried in her ass, making her feel completely stuffed and stretched. You hold still for a moment, savoring the incredible tightness.

"That's it, take every inch like a good little anal whore," you growl in her ear, reaching around to roughly grope her small tits. Her nipples are rock hard between your fingers. "Ready to get that ass pounded?"

"Yes! Please fuck me hard," she begs in a desperate whisper. "Wreck my tight hole!"

You pull back until just the tip remains inside, then slam forward balls-deep in one brutal thrust. Gaeul lets out a choked cry into the pillow as you establish a rough rhythm, your cock pistoning in and out of her stretched asshole.

The wet sounds of anal sex fill the room - the obscene squelching of lube, the meaty slap of your balls against her pussy, the muffled moans she can't quite contain. Her whole body rocks with the force of your thrusts as you hammer into her tight hole.

"Fuck yes, take that cock," you grunt, watching your shaft disappear over and over into her gripping asshole. "Love seeing this tight little hole stretch around my fat cock. Such a perfect anal slut."

You grab a handful of her hair and yank her head back, making her arch her spine. The new angle lets you drive even deeper into her ass, hitting spots that make her whole body tremble.

"Harder!" she gasps, pushing back to meet your thrusts. "Fucking destroy my ass, make me your buttslut!"

You respond by increasing your pace, absolutely ravaging her tight hole. Your heavy balls slap against her soaking wet pussy with each thrust. She's so turned on that her juices are running down her thighs.

"Look at you, getting your pussy all wet from taking it in the ass," you taunt, reaching down to rub her swollen clit. "Such a nasty little whore, getting off on having your asshole stretched open."

Gaeul can only whimper and moan in response, completely lost in the pleasure of being used. Her ass grips and pulses around your cock, trying to milk the cum from your balls.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway makes you both freeze. Your cock throbs inside her stretched hole as you hold perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe. The footsteps pause right outside the door.

Your hand clamps over Gaeul's mouth as you stay buried balls-deep in her ass. You can feel her heart pounding, her asshole clenching even tighter around your shaft from the fear of getting caught.

After what feels like an eternity, the footsteps continue past the door and fade away down the hall. As soon as they're gone, you resume fucking her even harder than before, driven wild by the close call.

"Dirty fucking slut, almost got us caught," you growl, punctuating each word with a brutal thrust. "Maybe I should let them catch us, let them see what a cock-hungry anal whore you really are."

She shakes her head frantically but her pussy gushes at the thought, coating your balls in her juices. The way her ass grips you tells you she's getting close to cumming.

"That's it, squeeze that cock with your tight little hole," you grunt, feeling your own orgasm building. "Gonna flood this ass with cum, mark you as my personal buttslut."

Your fingers work her clit faster as you pound her stretched asshole. Gaeul's whole body starts to shake as she approaches her peak. Her inner walls clamp down almost painfully tight around your thrusting cock.

"Cum for me," you command. "Cum with my fat cock buried in your ass like the anal slut you are!"

She explodes around you, her orgasm making her squirt all over the bed as her ass spasms around your shaft. The intense tightness pushes you over the edge and you grunt as your cock swells.

"Take it, take my fucking load," you growl as you empty your balls deep in her ass. Rope after rope of hot cum floods her stretched hole while she continues to shake and moan through her own orgasm.

You keep thrusting through both your climaxes, making obscene squelching sounds as your cum starts leaking out around your cock. Her ass is still rhythmically clenching, milking every last drop from your balls.

When you finally pull out, her gaping asshole immediately starts leaking your thick load. You watch mesmerized as white cum drips down her thighs and pools on the bedspread below.

"Holy fuck," Gaeul pants, collapsing onto the bed. Her hole is still twitching and leaking, thoroughly used and marked as yours. "That was so fucking good..."

You give her ass one slap, admiring the way it makes more cum leak out. "That's what happens to me when you keep teasing me all day long. Get your ass stretched and filled with cum while your friends are right downstairs."

She shivers at your words, reaching back to feel her gaping, cum-filled hole. "My ass is gonna be so sore tomorrow…”

"Yeah, and you love it, don't you?!"

Your cock gives an interested twitch as you watch her finger herself, scooping some of your cum out of her stretched hole. To your surprise and arousal, she brings her cum-covered fingers to her mouth and sucks them clean.

"Dirty fucking slut," you growl, feeling yourself starting to harden again already. "You really can't get enough, can you?"

She grins up at you, still tasting your cum on her tongue. "What can I say? You've turned me into such a whore for your cock. Especially in my ass."

You grab her hair and pull her up for a rough kiss, tasting yourself on her lips. Your rapidly hardening cock presses against her stomach as you devour her mouth.

"Ready for another round already?" she asks breathlessly when you break apart, feeling your erection growing. "Gonna wreck my ass again?"

"Fuck yes," you grunt, spinning her around and pushing her face-down into the mattress. "Gonna use this tight little hole until you can't walk straight tomorrow."

You spread her ass cheeks, admiring how her gaping hole is still leaking your previous load. The sight of your cum dripping from her stretched asshole has you rock hard again in seconds.

"Please," she whimpers, wiggling her hips invitingly. "Fill me up again, use me like your personal anal slut!"

You line your cock up with her cum-lubed hole and push back inside with one smooth thrust. She's still incredibly tight despite being stretched and filled with your load.

"Fuck, love how this greedy little hole just swallows my cock," you growl, starting to pound her ass again. "Such a perfect little anal whore, always ready to take it in the ass."

The mixture of cum and lube makes obscene squelching sounds as you fuck her stretched hole. Your previous load leaks out around your shaft with each thrust, running down her thighs.

"Yes! Use my ass, wreck my tight little hole!" she moans into the pillow. "Love being your anal slut!"

You grab her hips and really start hammering into her, making the bed creak dangerously. Her whole body bounces with the force of your thrusts as you ravage her sensitive hole.

Your balls slap against her dripping pussy, already coated in a mixture of her juices and your leaking cum. The dirty sounds of anal sex fill the room once again.

"Such a nasty little whore," you grunt, reaching around to pinch and twist her hard nipples. "Getting your ass fucked twice while your friends are right downstairs. Bet you love the risk of getting caught, don't you?"

"Yes!" she gasps, pushing back to meet your brutal thrusts. "Love being your secret anal slut, love taking your fat cock in my tight little ass!"

You pull her up by her hair until her back is pressed against your chest, changing the angle of penetration. Your cock drives even deeper into her stretched hole as you fuck up into her.

"That's it, ride this cock like the buttslut you are," you growl in her ear, one hand around her throat. "Show me how badly you need it in your ass."

Gaeul starts bouncing on your cock, working her hips in tight circles that make her ass grip you like a vice. Her small tits bounce with each movement as she impales herself on your shaft.

"Gonna cum again," she whimpers after a few minutes of riding you. "Please make me cum with your cock in my ass!"

You throw her back down onto the bed and really start drilling her stretched hole, pounding her g-spot through her ass wall. Your fingers find her clit again, rubbing quick circles as you ravage her.

"Cum for me, you dirty anal whore," you command. "Cum all over my cock while I wreck this tight little asshole!"

She explodes around you for the second time, her whole body convulsing as she squirts all over the already-soaked bed. Her ass clamps down painfully tight on your thrusting cock.

The incredible tightness pushes you over the edge again. You bury yourself balls-deep in her spasming hole as your cock swells and pulses.

"Take it, take another load in this slutty ass," you grunt as you empty your balls inside her again. Rope after rope of hot cum floods her already-full hole while she continues to shake through her own orgasm.

When you finally pull out, her thoroughly used asshole gapes obscenely, leaking a river of white cum onto the bed. She collapses face-down, completely fucked out and marked as yours.

"Holy fuck," she pants, reaching back to feel her destroyed hole still leaking your loads. "Fuck, I'm gonna be leaking your load all night now."

"Next time I'm gonna make you wear a plug to keep my cum inside you," you tell Gaeul as you lay down next to her, catching your breath. "Make you sit through the whole movie feeling your ass full of my load."

She shivers at the thought, clearly turned on despite being thoroughly fucked out. "Fuck, I don't think I've ever been as naughty as I am with you now...." After a moment, she rolls over to face you with an unusually serious expression. "Hey... I need to tell you something," she says quietly. "I'm getting tired of hiding this. Hiding us."

Your heart skips a beat. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... fuck, this started as just casual sex after you put me in my place that day. But somewhere along the way I actually started having deep feelings for you." She looks away, clearly uncomfortable with the vulnerability. "And I'm sick of pretending I don't."

You're quiet for a long moment, processing this. "I feel the same way," you finally admit. "Have for a while now."

Her eyes snap back to yours. "Really?"

"Really." You pull her closer. "I love how you try to act all tough, but I know what a needy little slut you really are. Love making you fall apart on my cock. But I also just... love being around you. Even when we're not fucking. I love when you laugh at my jokes now, much better than when you pretended not to like them. I always thought your laugh was cute."

A genuine smile spreads across her face - not her usual cocky smirk. "So what do we do about it?"

"Well, we could tell everyone we're dating," you suggest. "No more sneaking around."

"Mmm..." She pretends to consider it. "Or we could keep this our dirty little secret for a while longer. The sneaking around is pretty hot."

You grin and squeeze her ass. "True. Nothing like fucking you with the risk of getting caught."

"Exactly." She kisses you deeply. "Let's give it another month of secret fucking. Then we can go public."

"Deal." You slap her ass playfully. "Now get dressed before they come looking for us."

She quickly pulls her clothes back on, wincing slightly. "I don't know how I'm going to be able to sit in the chair tomorrow in class."

"Good." You zip up your pants. "Something to remember me by while you study."

You head back downstairs first, trying to act casual as you rejoin the group. A few minutes later, Gaeul returns with a bowl of chips like nothing happened.

But you catch her squirming uncomfortably on the couch, feeling your cum leak out of her ass. The secret knowledge of what you just did makes your cock start to stiffen again.

She notices and gives you that familiar smirk. You know you'll be sneaking off to fuck again before the night is over. Maybe this time you'll bend her over the bathroom sink and stuff her pussy full of cock while she tries to stay quiet.

The thought of all the secret hookups to come over the next month has your head spinning. Every stolen moment will be even hotter now that you know there are real feelings involved.

But for now, you focus on the movie and try not to make it obvious that you just railed your friend's ass upstairs.

The perfect crime - except for the cum still dripping down her thighs.

[hearts4zoro]

kiss count ? r. zoro. ᧔♡᧓

pairing: roronora zoro x crewmate gn! reader

syn: you decide to ask zoro a silly question- one he still has not answered to this day.

word count: 717.

“what the hell.”

you heard from the green haired man beside you, causing you to roll your eyes in advance. the four of you were patiently waiting for ussop to make a decision after luffy excitedly asked him to join his crew. of course, he couldn’t choose without some pained goodbyes from his beloved kaya, the two of them suddenly locking lips in front of all of you. you glanced at grinning nami, and a confused luffy with a puzzled look on his face.

“he knows that i’m the captain, right?” luffy asked, pointing at himself.

“let em have this one.” you heard nami say, before luffy started to question the pair. you chuckled turning to the side to face zoro, your eyes meeting for a quick second, his orbs boring down into yours before he turned to look away.

“what? never seen two people kiss before?” you mumbled in annoyance, jabbing zoro in the stomach with your elbow, failing to get some sort of pained grunt from the man. but, you did get him to stop complaining.

“shut up.” he uttered, allowing a scoff to exit your mouth, the two of you staring at the smiling couple ahead. until, a silly assumption popped up in your head. 

“hey mosshead,” you spoke, trying to get his attention. he replied with an annoyed “what”, eyeing you from the side.

“have you ever kissed anyone?” the sole set of words was enough to get the man beet red, his attention focusing on you quicker than ever, a scowl present on his face. you swore you saw his nostrils flaring. 

“what the hell? what kind of question is that?” he replied, looking almost embarrassed. you did your best to hold in a laugh.

“damn, is "what the hell" your reply to everything?" you mumbled under your breath. "no need to get defensive, it was just a question!” you raised your hands, shaking your head. zoro eyed you, still irked by the sudden ask, as a smirk formed on your lips.

“a question that you didn’t answer…” you continued, tapping your chin. “so, then does that mean, that the roronoa zoro hasn’t kissed a single person in his life at all?” you grinned at the man before you, whose ears were burning red, eyebrows furrowing at your statement. he opened up his mouth only to shut it closed, unsure of what to reply. his silence was enough of an answer for you.

“ha! so it’s true!” a teasing look took over your features, you poking at his toned bicep continuously, glancing at his three swords. “what a loser.”

having enough of your playful antics, zoro gripped your arm and harshly tugged you towards him, the two of you now facing one another.

“alright then,” he finally spoke, tone deep as you noticed the way his flexed biceps were almost about to rip out of his t-shirt. raising his eyebrow, he opened his mouth.

“have you ever kissed anyone, y/n?” and your smirk widened. but before you could reply to the brazen man, luffy called out to you guys to get on board the going merry, his voice cutting the tense atmosphere into a thin slice of bread.

turning your attention back to the swordsman, all you did was lazily shrug in reply. suddenly, you leaned in dangerously close, your plump lips almost touching his chapped ones. zoro froze, immediately cursing you in his head due to the close proximity while still keeping a hardened expression on his face. you caught the way his eyes flickered down to your lips for a split second, the action engraving itself in your memory. you were definitely going to tease him about it later. but for now…

“i guess we’ll have to find out.” you whispered, your breath tickling his own. all zoro could hear in that moment was the clicking of your heeled boots against the wood as you backed away and  retreated from the scene before the fazed swordsman could utter a word. of course, you couldn’t leave without slyly blowing him a kiss. 

“since you’ve never gotten a real one before!” you yelled with a grin before strutting away onto the newly sailed ship. zoro shook his head, feet finally able to move out of the warmed space, the once tight air suffocating his chest now dispersed into the salt water below the docks. oh, he was definitely going to get back at you for that.

©𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬𝟒𝐳𝐨𝐫𝐨. on tumblr. please do not copy, repost, or plagarize. please comment or reblog! taglist is open <3

[bamboozledbird]

IGNITE: A Teen Wolf S1 AU (Reader's Version) // Prev. / Chapter 6

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, ofc, omc Pairing: Eventual Stiles x Reader, but man are we talking slow burn Word Count: 6k Warnings: Canon typical gore/violence, parental death (rip to your fake mom), depictions of depression (apathy, dissociation, 'numb little bug' vibes) Tags: Canon has been lovingly scrapped for parts, author is a chaotic bi and it shows, prolific overuse of the em dash, the slowest of burns i fear

Summary: You can always smell ash long after the fire is gone. Perhaps, that’s why you still can’t breathe without choking on the past. It’s been four years since your mom died. Four years since she burned alive. Four years since you didn’t. You survived, but they must have buried your heart with her because most days you feel like a shadow, some horrifically sad creature caught halfway between a ghost and a lamb for slaughter. 

You can’t scrub the bitter smell of hospital from your memories, not even with denial. Maybe, that’s why death and disease follows Stiles wherever he goes now. It’s been eight years since his mom died. Eight years since he didn’t. Eight years since he decided that he wouldn’t let anyone he loved die ever again. He survived, but Beacon Hills’ bloody underbelly is making it pretty damn hard for him to keep his promise.

Time never stops turning. The grief never dissipates. Children soldier on—but in a town where all the monsters under the bed are real, and old family secrets rattle in every closet, how long can two fragile, breakable humans survive?

Maybe, the real question is: How long will they want to?

Chapter Summary: You go full Charlie Kelly and start to put all the pieces together. Stiles knows more than he lets on, but for some reason you trust him anyway. 

A/N: check me out on ao3 (dork_knight) for the full lore version!

Taglist: @eaterof-concrete, @m30wk1ttycat

You played and replayed the video at least a hundred times, over and over again, examining every poorly shot, grainy frame until your eyes burned. You were frantic—a rabbit, picking her den apart, ripping her fur out, searching for all the minute flaws and misplaced straw; a girl, chewing her cheek bloody, tearing at her tights, desperately looking for some kind of explanation that wouldn’t completely shatter her fragile grasp on reality. 

It would be one thing if it was just the video. You could easily rationalize the video away; you’d seen enough fan-made edits of Buffy and Twilight to know that amateur editors were hardly amateurs anymore—but it wasn’t just the video. It was the video, and the gutted video clerk, and the mangled bus driver, and the severed woman with wolf fibers found her butchered corpse—all interconnected by one very furry, clawed, fanged… thing. 

Rolling onto your back, you scrubbed at your eyes, fingers cruel and violent in their attempt to scour away images of blood, and death, and monsters. There had to be an explanation. A rational explanation. Your gaze reflexively drifted towards the charm bundle on your windowsill, propped up against a few of your favorite novels.

The books were old, spines creased and splitting at the corners from little fingers and a lot of love. They were your mom’s before they were yours; you read them together under the covers whenever it rained. For a long time, you kept them hidden away under your bed with all the other things that might crumble your brittle will, but the yellowing pages steeped in memories didn’t seem so haunting anymore. You were already halfway through the stack, consuming the faded ink like a fiend in the night. It was odd; there wasn’t much that had changed since now and then. Really, only one thing. It made sense, you supposed after some thought. Your childhood favorites: Nancy Drew, Sherlock Holmes, the Hercule Poirot novels, they were exactly the kind of thing a sheriff’s son would appreciate.

The largest book in the pile was your complete collection of Sherlock Holmes. You chewed on your lip, eyes tracing the elegant swoops and swirls illuminated on the spine. Words curled along your brainstem in time with the loops, breaking through the buzzing in your mind with quiet British flourish: When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

Your nose scrunched, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. Surely, you hadn’t eliminated all logical explanations yet. Surely. 

The metallic embellishments glinted at you, taunting you with their unmistakable presence and insistent reminder of your evening’s unavoidable ending. There was only one place to go for the improbable, after all; you just had to get past your pride and everything you believed to be true.��

Before you could finish putting on your shoes, your dad found his way into your room. He lingered on the border of the black cherry floor. His stance was awkward, unsure of his footing, and you froze with your shoelace in hand. After a moment of stilted silence, he cleared his throat and loosened his tie from its chafing Windsor knot, “I just wanted to let you know I’ll be out later than usual.”

Nodding, you tied your laces into neat bows and pulled the wrinkles in your tights straight, “Parent Teacher Conferences, right?”

“Mhm,” he paused and attempted a smile. The edges were stiff, as if his mouth had forgotten the movement, at least when directed at you, “Should I be worried?”

It was his attempt at a joke; you knew that. You still felt a flutter of anxiety. Despite Stiles’s reassurances, you weren't so cavalier about breaking the rules. “All A’s,” you finally said, quietly to your feet. 

Your dad gave you a real smile; smaller than his previous attempt at playfulness, but this one was your favorite. He was proud. It’d been a long time since he’d looked at you with anything other than grief and unease. “That’s my girl.” He rapped his knuckles against your door frame and said, “There’s takeout money on the table. Don’t stay out too long; there’s a—”

“Curfew, I know.” You slung your bag over your shoulder and fiddled with the strap, “I’ll be back soon.”

He didn’t ask you where you were going. He never did. You weren't sure what that said about your relationship, but you didn’t want to think about it any longer than you had to. There were far more pressing things to dwell on.

Maggie was in her kitchen when you opened the door to her house. It was cozy, small; she'd inherited it from her mother when she passed years ago. There were still signs of her 70s nostalgia all over every room. The shag carpet was horrendous, but you kind of liked the color. The muted green almost looked like a bed of moss, like something out of a fairytale.  You had your own key; you’d had one since you were old enough to be a latchkey kid—even though you were never really on your own for long. There was always someone around to help you with your homework, bake you brownies without getting shell in the batter, read you stories about far away places and imaginary worlds. You’d had a wonderful childhood until it ended; some people weren’t that lucky. You knew that you were fortunate to have twelve years of Rockwellian bliss; it was more than a lot of people got. Knowing, however, still didn’t make the after any easier. 

“Want a scone?” Maggie’s head was buried in the oven, steam curling around her shoulders. She emerged with a tray of browned lumps in pink oven-mitted hands, “They're slightly burnt, but it’s not my fault. My timer betrayed me.”

You didn’t reply. You chewed on your lip and studied the plants hanging from the ceiling. The Angelica was in full bloom, little clusters of white fuzzy fireworks. The roots were supposed to ward off evil. You would’ve scoffed at the thought a week ago. Now, there was a lingering ‘what if’ you couldn’t shake. 

You sighed quietly, the exhaustion rattling through your chest, and trailed your gaze to the next plant. Skullcaps were your favorite, not because they were supposed to induce visions, obviously; you liked the blossoms. The fluted periwinkle petals certainly looked magical. You picked a flower from the lowest stem and rolled it between your fingers, “You really believe in this shit, right?” You looked up from your hands and studied Maggie’s face carefully, “It’s not all a scam?”

The anticipated gasp carried through the kitchen, followed by the clang of a plonked baking sheet, “I resent the very implication.”

“I’m serious.” You stared at Maggie’s back, watching for any tell-tale signs of tension or rigidity, “Do you really believe that witches are real and wolfsbane can kill werewolves?”

“I will not be abused in my own home,” there was a lilt in Maggie’s voice, a flippancy that usually made your lips twitch into a smile, but Maggie's hand trembled and sent the scone on the edge of her spatula to the floor. Maggie dropped to her knees and scooped the crumbling pieces into a pile with desperate hands, oddly frantic for something as silly as a dropped pastry. 

You squatted next to her and rested your hands over Maggie’s until they stilled. “Mags,” you were quiet, gentle in your sweeping, but Maggie didn’t seem soothed by the clean floor. 

Maggie’s chin lifted, but her eyes zeroed in on the tip of your nose instead of your eyes. “Babe.”

You gripped your knees, clinging to the caps with ragged nails and flexed knuckles, like your bones were the only solid thing left in the room. “Can you be serious for once in your life, please.” Your tongue went heavy, adhering to the floor of your mouth, effectively sealing everything else you couldn’t bring yourself to say: Please, I think I’m losing my mind, and I don’t know how much longer I can white-knuckle it.  

Maggie turned towards the counter carelessly, and her pinky brushed against the cookie sheet. She let out a sharp hiss through her teeth and shook her hand in the air. “Why does it matter?” Her words were muffled through the blistering finger in her mouth, “People buy what they want to buy.”

Your empathy was thinning and so was your patience. Your teeth gnashed, and you winced when your tongue got in the way. “I don’t give a shit about your delusional customers. You know what I mean.”

“See, ‘delusional,’” Maggie stuffed a scone into her mouth even though it was still steaming. Her eyes watered as she struggled to swallow the wad of blueberry and oatmeal lodged against the roof of her mouth. “Why are we even talking about this?” she said thickly, throat clogged with congealed crumbs and something skittish in her eyes. She bent over the sink and turned the water to cold; you weren't entirely sure if she was soothing the burns on her tongue or simply avoiding eye contact.

“There’s something happening here,” your voice trembled, much to your disdain, and you were further horrified by the stinging in your tear ducts, “and I don’t know what to do.”

Maggie’s head whipped towards you, wetting her hair and splattering her lenses with water droplets that dripped onto her nose, “You don’t have to do anything. That’s not your job.” She clutched your shoulders with desperate fingers, digging into your scapulae until it hurt, “Your job is to go to school, get good grades, and live happily ever after.”

You shook off her hands and wiped your nose against your shoulder, “Why won’t you just give me a straight answer?” 

“Well, I am bi–”

“Maggie,” you struggled for words until there was only one left on your tongue, “please.”

A blank expression fell over her face, and then Maggie seemed to sink through the floor even though she was still standing. “Did you read the book?”

You could barely hear her. Your nose shriveled towards your brows, “What book?”

Her eyes shined with something; you couldn’t quite define it. There was a glimmer of remorse, but you couldn’t make out the rest. “‘Beacon Hills’ Bloodlines’.”

For a moment, you were too confused to be frustrated, “Not really.”

Confusion became bewilderment when Maggie left the kitchen without a word. She returned with a thick book; though, book wasn’t quite accurate. It was really a stack of pulp parchment barely held together with a piece of threaded twine. It looked older than the Bloodline’s journal; you could see a few pages sticking out from the others, and the spine was in desperate need of re-stitching. You reluctantly took the pages from Maggie’s hands after she shook it in your face a couple times. 

Maggie was quiet when she finally spoke, “Read the journal.” She nodded towards the new book, “That too.”

You frowned at the cover and held it out in front of you like it was contaminated. “Why are you being so weird about this? Just tell me.”

Maggie looked at you, and the most peculiar sensation rolled down your spine. Maggie's eyes were so present, like a shotgun blast, like a meteor shower. Her voice wasn’t even close to loud, but it was just as piercing as her stare, “I made a promise; I have to keep at least part of it.”

Your forehead creased, “Wha...that’s even weirder. Are you fuckin’ Gandalf? Just say it.” 

“Trust me,” Maggie’s gaze shifted to the floor, and you almost melted with relief, “there are some things that you’re better off not knowing.”

“Great. Thanks, Obi-Wan,” you rolled your eyes and crammed the bound parchment into your bag, “I’ll figure it out myself.”

A cool hand cupped your cheek before you could leave. You grudgingly met Maggie’s gaze, adjusting your grip on the strap of your bag.  

Maggie held onto your shoulders, a breath away from shaking you. “Promise me, you won’t do anything stupid.”

You grimaced, “I–” A flash in Maggie’s eyes dried all the words on your tongue.

“Promise.”

“Promise,” you mumbled.

Maggie finally let you leave, and your feet felt heavier than they did when you walked into Maggie’s apartment. Your bag was heavier, so perhaps it wasn’t all an illusion. The guilt, however, was certainly playing a part in your sagging shoulders. You chewed on a thumbnail and slipped into the comfort of denial. It didn’t count as a broken promise if you didn’t really know what you were promising.

Your dad was still gone when you got home, and you were relieved. Solitude was your only comfort with all this dread chilling your blood. You weren't good with the unpredictable, not anymore. You tried to study it, the way you did with dead languages and theoretical physics, but the methodology wasn't clear. You just wished, for once, you were as scary as people believed. 

There was one thing you could do—or rather two. One was on your desk, and the other was at the bottom of your bag. 

You started with the journal, and your hair quickly became a nuisance. Every time you bowed your head to get a better look at the messy scrawl, wispy strands obscured your vision. You tied your hair back and nibbled on your lip, struggling to determine if a smudged loop was an ‘a’ or an ‘o.’ They didn’t have computers in the 1800s, you knew that, but it wouldn’t have killed Maggie’s great-great-great-grandmother to quill with a little less ink. Neat cursive was hardly as taxing as cholera. 

The pain at the base of your skull was unbearable by the time you made it through half of the entries. Your impatience was rapidly fraying, with yourself and with the lack of insight. Maybe, this was all an elaborate stall—or maybe Maggie really didn’t know anything. 

You flopped back against your pillows and starfished your limbs across your bed until all your joints and muscles unkinked. “Fuck me.” Your eyes flicked down your legs, and you glowered at the journal. It was goading you, opened to the middle and sprawled across your thighs, staring at you and all your incompetence. 

Your thumbs dug a trench in your skull as you tried to rub the throbbing out of your temples.

One more page. You could read one more page. 

You flipped the page, careful with the crumbling corner. The parchment was cluttered with names and arrows; there were a few illustrations too, sketched portraits of the people memorialized on paper. It was inked chaos, but only one word stood out to you. In a large curling script, Hale was spread all over the complicated family tree. You gnawed on your lip and bent your head closer to the small description at the top of the page: The Hale pack founded Beacon Hills in 1856, saving the town from desolation with their wealth. The pack has several branches, extending across the state. They continue to be a prevalent force in their world. 

The bloodlines were difficult to follow with all the different branches and untimely deaths. As far as you could tell, the line was documented all the way to 2002. There were a few different sets of handwriting; the style changed every few decades or so, and you flipped to the end of the family line just to check for Maggie’s chicken scratch. You didn’t find her handwriting, but you did notice something familiar on the last line. Derek Hale. 

You knew, of course, that Derek would likely be included, but your breath hitched when your finger traced over the notation inscribed next to almost every single one of his family members’ names: Deceased: Arson. Laura Hale was still alive on the tree, and the thought of documenting her death—of giving her an end date —it stole all the air from your lungs. 

Your eyes burned, and you quickly flipped back to the start of the Hale bloodline. A few dozen county death records later, the burning in your corneas was due to the strain of one too many computer searches. Still painful, but you much preferred blue light sting to the threat of tears. You focused on it, on the ache; it was so much quieter than all the thoughts fighting you for their turn. They were so loud, a million ravenous locusts buzzing, feasting on your ear canal. You couldn’t make out what they were saying, what they were trying to tell you—what they wanted you to believe. 

Derek Hale couldn’t be a werewolf because that would mean werewolves were real, and if werewolves were real, how many other monsters were lurking in the dark? How many creatures from Maggie’s stories were waiting for someone to separate from the herd, biding their time until they could sink their teeth into human flesh?

There was only so much you could find online and in Maggie’s books. Certain secrets had yet to be written. 

It was disturbingly easy to find out where Stiles lived. The receptionist at the Sheriff’s station was all too happy to give you his address when you gave her your name. You finally stumbled upon the one perk of being an infamous, pathetic half-orphan: blind faith. 

His house was smaller than yours, and you were jealous. All the empty space just made the silence worse, you found. You could see a few spots where the paint was peeling when you got closer, and you smiled at the shoddy patch work. You wondered who tried to fix it. You hoped it was Stiles; you could see the paint in his hair, maybe smeared across his cheek from an ill-advised attempt to scratch his nose. It was adorable. 

You knocked on the door and clutched Maggie’s books tighter to your chest. You’d expected Stiles to answer the door, but he didn’t. You didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to you that someone else would be home until Sheriff Stilinski opened the door, but you felt stupid for not thinking of it sooner. The Sheriff looked just as surprised to see you; at least, he had an actual reason. 

“Oh.” You blinked and devolved into a monosyllabic moron, “Hi.” 

Obviously, you knew Stiles was Sheriff Stilinski’s son, but for some reason the idea of them occupying the same place at the same time was dumbfounding. YOur mind couldn’t make sense of it. There was the Sheriff in one box, with all your grief, all your pain, and then there was Stiles. You didn’t fully know what was in his box, but you knew it was good. 

“Hey, kid,” Sheriff Stilinski smiled through his confusion, “you okay? Did something—”

“I’mheretoseeStiles,” all your words were smooshed together in one big exhale. 

The Sheriff looked even more confused for a moment, and then he gave you a little conspiratorial grin. “He’s up in his room. Go ahead.” 

You nodded absently and followed him inside. You stopped thinking about the hefty pile of books in your arms when you noticed the slight limp in Sheriff Stilinski’s step. “Are you okay?” 

The Sheriff followed your gaze and waved his hand, “It’s nothing. Barely a scratch.” 

You hesitated at the foot of the stairs, looking for blood or something equally horrific. He had no reason to lie to you, but you’d gotten used to the worst case scenario. “You sure?”

The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened with his smile, “You sound like my son.”

You mouth ticked up slightly, “That’s not an answer.”

Sheriff Stilinski had a nice laugh, you thought. You grinned as his head shook with another rumbling chuckle. “Now you really sound like my son. I hope he hasn’t driven crazy too.”

“Eh,” you shrugged a little and smiled, “he’s alright.” Your voice dropped a little, like you were telling a secret, “More than, actually. He’s…good.”

The Sheriff looked surprised briefly, a spasm of disbelief, and then all the muscles in his face seemed to melt with fondness. “He is,” his voice was a bit gravelly when he spoke, like it got lodged halfway up his throat. He loved his son; it was obvious. You wondered if your dad ever looked like that when talked about you. You wondered if he even talked about you at all. 

“Not a lot of people are,” you said quietly, looking down at your sneakers. The white wasn’t even white anymore. They were graying from years of stepping on your own feet, kicking car doors closed, tripping over asphalt. You weren't the kind of girl who could keep shoes clean; that was one thing about you that hadn’t changed. Sometimes, it felt like everything else had, and none of it was for the better. 

Sheriff Stilinski waited until you looked up, and then he smiled at you, almost as fondly as before. “You are.”

You were overwhelmed with feeling, so close to an emotion you couldn’t name, but you knew you’d felt it before. Once upon a time, when parents were parents, and children were children. 

The Sheriff rested his hand on your shoulder and squeezed. You were tipping into tearful, and you’d never been so grateful to hear Stiles’s voice. 

“Dad, who’s—” Stiles stopped at the top of the stairs and stared at the two of you. His jaw dangled, and it didn’t snap shut until his dad snorted. Stiles’s eye twitched, and you could see the reboot loading behind his eyes. You wholly understood the sentiment.

His brain regained function, and apparently all he could come up with was, “Hey.”

You grinned to yourself, a small secret smile at his predicament, and your hand cocked in a little wave, “Hey.”

Sheriff Stilinski cleared his throat, “I’ll—I’m going to get something to eat.” Neither of you looked at him; you were too busy playing a strange staring contest with equally stupid looks on your faces.  

Stiles recovered from his stupor once you were alone. His face settled into something bitter, stony at all the edges, irritation tucked into the creases. It was hardly the face you expected to see when you finally paid him a surprise visit. 

Your brow curved, and you tried not to shrink in on yourself. “You look pissed.”

Stiles snorted and drummed his fingers against the railing, “Yeah, well, you’re in a perpetual state of pissiness, so we’ve all got problems.” You must have crumpled this time, at least a little bit, because his scowl thawed and his hands fell limply by his sides. “Sorry. That’s not—displaced aggression, it’s my sweet spot.”

You shrugged and smiled slightly, a little stiff, a lot amused, “You’re not exactly wrong.”

“Still.” 

You played another game of eye-contact chicken, and Stiles scratched the back of his rapidly flushing neck. Your hair, still damp from the light drizzle, fell in front of your face as you tilted your head towards the stairs, “So, you gonna invite me up, or…”

He nodded a little too quickly and definitely too fervently, “Yeah, sorry. I’m just—”

“Pissed?” you smirked and adjusted your grip on your books, trekking up the stairs. Stiles narrowed his eyes at you, but he was smiling. He had a nice smile; it was big, loose—unrestrained in a way a lot of people were afraid to be. It was the kind of smile you couldn’t help but return.

Stiles let out a profound sigh and shook his head, “It’s all Scott’s fault.” You shot him a dubious look as he pushed his bedroom door open for you. He shrugged, “If I only tell it with carefully selected parts of the story, it’s all his fault.”

Your mouth twitched. Your smile was small, but it peeled back a good deal of the person you thought you should be. So much so, there was a little you peeking underneath. “We can pretend it is. Just for today.”

Stiles’s throat bobbed with his swallow, and when he smiled back at you, slowly, fleetingly, but ever-so sweetly, you finally realized you were awkwardly standing in the middle of his room. Like an idiot. 

His room was exactly what you expected, and that was…you didn’t realize that you knew him well enough to expect plaid bedding and posters of cringey emo bands that were heavily featured on most of your playlists. 

His desk was cluttered with various books and papers, stacked with no apparent rhyme or reason. You recognized the bestiary he bought from Curio Killed the Cat; the burgundy and gold binding was striking against all his monochrome textbooks. There were a few papers poking out from the aged pages, printouts of something furry and familiar. Before you could get a better look, Stiles bustled past you, doing a quick but rather poor job of hiding his dirty laundry under his bed and behind his closet door. 

Stiles was slightly out of breath when he finished, dropping onto the foot of his bed, “So…you stalkin’ me now?” 

You rested your hip against his desk and hummed, “Seemed only fair.” 

“Well,” his face split into a bright, infuriating grin, “I am flattered.”

“Shut up.” His grin widened, and you rolled your eyes, glaring at your bowed reflection in a chrome lamp on the edge of his desk. It was in grave need of a good dusting, along with most of the room. “You’re literally my only option.”

“So, you’re sayin’ I’m the one.” Stiles’s smirk was audible, and you sputtered. 

Your ears were unnaturally hot, and so was the back of your neck. You meant to groan, wanted him to know just how unamusing you found him, but your throat failed you. Your complaint came out airy, huffy, and it trembled against your soft palate. Truthfully, it sounded awfully similar to a whine; you scowled at the sound and squeezed your books tighter to your chest, “I’m leaving. Right now. I’ve reached my maximum capacity for bullshit.” 

Long fingers circled around your wrist before you could go too far. They were blistering against your cool skin, but a shiver shuddered through your arm all the way to your skull. 

“Don’t go,” Stiles hummed softly, close enough to warm the shell of your ear. “I owe you one, remember?” 

You braved a look at him through your lashes, and he was smiling at you again; this one was nervous. He had forgotten, it seemed, to let go of your wrist until now. Stiles sat back down on his bed, and you absently brushed your fingers over the lingering sensation of his fingertips. 

“Right,” you looked around the room and chewed on your bottom lip, “so…what was that whole thing with Derek Hale?”

Stiles paused. You could feel him watching you, studying you like one of his puzzles. “He needed a ride.”

You set your books on his desk, and Stiles nodded towards the chair in front of him. You hesitated before sitting down, feeling a bit like you were giving up the battlefield high ground, “You’re like…friends, then?”

“Absolutely not.” If the emphatic denial wasn’t enough to convince you, the violent shake of his head was telling enough. “Kind of wish he was dead, actually. It would solve so many problems.”

“So you don’t actually know him that well,” you murmured, sinking into the chair with all your hopes and plans. 

Stiles’s neck craned as he studied your face, “Why?” You just looked at him, keeping your face impassive, and his eyes went a little buggy. “I know he looks dreamy, but that would be nothing but a nightmare for everyone involved. Trust me.”

Your face twisted, lips curling around the unsavory taste in your mouth. “I don’t—what was wrong with him yesterday?”

Stiles didn’t look entirely convinced, but skepticism did look a lot like concern. “Stomach bug.”

You rolled your eyes. It would’ve made you laugh under any other circumstance, but you didn’t feel much like laughing now. You’d been a tick away from the edge ever since you realized that Lydia had been this close to being butchered by that thing. 

Your fingers curled into tight fists, knuckles straining, “I’m not an idiot, okay. I know there’s something weird going on.” You looked up from your lap with sharp eyes, but if he looked a little closer, he’d see the desperation underneath, “And I know you know something about it.”

Stiles swallowed hard and twisted his fingers together, “I’m actually known for knowing nothing about anything. Ever.” 

He flinched when you stood up abruptly. The chair rolled back into his desk and sent a few pencils to the floor. You glared at them, like they did it on purpose just to spite you, and your glower drifted towards the glint of citrine and garnet on the corner of his desk. “This.” You picked up the bestiary and tried to shake it in front of his face, but it was too heavy to do your frustration justice, “Why did you buy this?”

His eyes, miraculously, grew rounder, “I told you. D—”

“N’ D, I know, but I looked into it. This is real; it’s transcribed from a real Ancient Greek text.”

“...I like authenticity.” Stiles shrugged towards his fidgeting hands, “I take my craft seriously.”

Scoffing, you dropped the book on top of his bed, “So you’re saying you believe the whole mountain lion theory?” 

“Well, obviously no—”

“Then what do you believe?” Your chest seethed with quick shallow breaths as you paced from one side of his room to the other, “Because I was looking through this genealogy line, and the Hales have been here before Beacon Hills was even Beacon Hills, and there’s a pattern of—hold on.” 

You snatched Maggie’s journal off of his desk and flipped it open to the Hale family tree, bookmarked with the thick stack of county death reports you’d printed out. “Look, there’s a series of premature, violent deaths in their line directly after a series of animal attacks on the town, and then all of it just stopped a few generations before Derek’s mom became the head of the pa—”

You didn’t know when Stiles stood up, but he was in front of you now, stopping you in your tracks. He brushed his fingers through his short crop of hair and shook his head, “Hold on, okay. Take a breath—”

You didn’t hear him, not really. Truthfully, you didn’t even notice that he’d started talking. You shoved the pages closer to his face, and all your words rushed past your lips in one carved out breath, “And then it all started again after Laura Hale was killed, and she was found with wolf fibers on her body—”

Stiles’s brows flew towards his hairline, “How do you kno—”

“She became the head of the family after Talia died, right?” Your hair was as wild as your eyes after a series of urgent tugging, and you prayed to all the mythical gods in every game you’d ever played that you sounded saner than you looked. They might actually exist, after all. Who's to say that Selûne didn't exist in a world where werewolves did? “‘Cause she’s the oldest living, fully conscious relative, and then immediately after she's killed, the animal attacks start up again, like she was keeping something in-check.”

“Slow down.” Stiles gripped your shoulders. You were closer than either of you realized until you looked up and your noses were almost touching. He swallowed thickly and let go of you after a moment, taking a step back, “A couple of days ago you thought this was all bullshit.”

You chewed on your lip and your indecision, looking for something in his face. You didn’t know what, but you were pretty sure you found it when his mouth furrowed into a concerned frown. It was for you, you realized, not because of you. That was…a rarity in your life as of late. You didn’t hate it. 

Sighing, you pulled your phone out of your jacket pocket and opened the video from Lydia’s phone. “A couple of days ago I hadn't seen this,” you mumbled, shoving the phone into his hand.

Stiles looked at you for a moment longer and then pressed play. His face was unreadable, save for the small flinch when the beast shattered the store window, and you hated it. “Where did you get this?” Stiles finally said quietly. His voice was low and infected with something dire. 

You rifled through your papers, something to keep your hands busy and your eyes off of the dark look on Stiles’s face, “Someone sent it to Lydia—it was a blocked number, so don’t ask who.”

“Did she—”

“I deleted it before she could.” 

Neither of you needed to say it; you both knew Lydia was clinging to sanity by the skin of her perfect teeth. She couldn’t see the proof that the monster under her bed was real. Not yet. Maybe not ever. 

“Good.” Stiles rubbed a hand over his face, looking so much older than sixteen, and he flickered his gaze to your face, “You can’t show this to anyone. You know that, right?”

“Besides Scott,” you retorted dryly.

Stiles almost smiled. There was a ghost of one hiding in the corners of his mouth, but it faded before it could materialize. “Believe me, he really doesn’t need any more proof. Delete it.” 

He sighed at your scowl and tried again, “Please delete it.”

You shook your head and grabbed your phone from his hands, “Not until you tell me what you know.”

“I don’t know anything.” Stiles held up his hands and took a careful step towards you, “Really. I know as much as you do.”

You stared at him. You weren't sure if you were a good judge of character. You’d like to think you were, but it wasn’t like you spent a lot of time around other people. Even before you got trapped in your head, you really only had one friend, and you used to think you’d be friends with her for the rest of your lives. Maybe longer. 

You’d been wrong before. You didn’t want to be wrong again.

Stiles reached for your hand, and you let him lace your fingers together. “I know how you feel. It sucks, and it’s kind of exciting, but mostly freakin’ terrifying—and all you need to know is that it’s going to be okay. Okay?”

Your chin jerked in a rigid little nod. You softened slightly when he squeezed your hand. He wasn’t telling you everything; you were almost 100% certain of that, but you were also pretty sure he wasn’t lying. That was enough for you. For now. 

“The file room,” you said quietly.

Stiles’s lips drew together into a little pucker, “What?”

“The evidence room with all the files,” you looked up at him, and the ember of hope was stoked in your eyes, “there’s probably more there.”

He bit down on his cheek, “I don’t know—”

You folded her arms over her chest, chin lifting in defiance, “You promised.”

Stiles sighed and ran his hand over his head. His smile was a little affectionate thing. He sighed and shook his head, “I promised.”

“Well, alright then.” Your shoulders relaxed, and you sat back down in his desk chair, “Middle of the night break-in, it’s a date.”

[freyito]

I'm in that 'damn I'm too feminine guess I'll die' phase right now, pretty sure it happens monthly, so, I was wondering if I could ask for Liu Kang with a ftm reader who's normally happy just crashing down one day, specifically because they think they're too feminine for people to perceive them as a guy?

Thank you for writing such amazing stuff btw!! :D

anon, you saved me. you SAVED ME. ive been in such a mood and ive been wanting to write something comforting!!! but i havent been able to think of a prompt and i didnt really have the energy for anything in my inbox. and then you BLESSED me with this absolute banger of a request oh em gee.

and don't worry, you're not alone either anon, im also lowkey goin thru it. twinsies!!!! letting you know, from a very feminine (androgynous, but apparently i seem fem aligned) trans man, its okay to feel this. there really is no definition to masculinity and you are a man regardless of what people say!

added some bonus characters for myyyy self indulgence if you don't mind

cw: male reader, ftm, just fluff, implied romantic relationships w/ all, proofread

ʟɪᴜ ᴋᴀɴɢ (ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴏɴᴜꜱᴇꜱ) + ɪɴꜱᴇᴄᴜʀᴇ ꜰᴛᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

-Liu Kang...

is almost disheartened at the sudden change of behavior. Just the other day you had been so vibrant, bringing color, a certain tone to the world. Something even he didn't think was possible. When he had met you, he was smitten. With your positivity, your optimism, and above all else, you.

To find you, quiet, sullen, hiding from him, it was heartbreaking. The absence of your voice and your light was something that very clearly rubbed off on him.

Finding out you've broken because you do not feel yourself, because you cannot look in the mirror without seeing the man you aren't, it fills him with sorrow. Because, he sees you as a man, regardless. He always will, and it will never change.

To be honest, he's quite unsure how to comfort you. He's by your side, reassuring you that you are masculine, that he and many, many others see you as a man. And he wants to make sure you see that. The best he can be is sympathetic, it hurts that he can't necessarily understand you on a deeper level.

However, that does not change how he sees you. Nothing defines masculinity, nor what makes a man in his eyes. Even as a god, he believes there really is no definition to anything, aside from what you make it.

He lets you know exactly that. There is nothing in the world that could change his mind, no insecurity- no matter how big- you find will ever change his view of you.

-Kuai Liang...

originally thinks you are playing a game with him. So suddenly, you disappear. He looks for his sunshine around every corner, every closet, any possible hiding place he can think of. You are the light of his life, your shining brilliance cannot be matched.

So when he finds you sulking in your room, hiding, back turned from him and the world, suddenly concern eclipses his light. The pit in his stomach forms, ever expanding with worry.

Hiding because you do not see yourself as... yourself. You can almost hear his heart shatter. You are afraid other people see this, too. That you are not a man in anyone's eyes.

At first, he believes someone had put this through your head. Someone had told you this, had made you feel this way. And the fire burned within him, something telling him to find whoever had said this to you. Yet, when he finds out it is simply you perceiving everyone else's looks towards you like this, his mind slows down.

Kuai insists you are wrong. His usually calm temper replaced by him adamantly denying that you are seen as anything else. You are a man, regardless. He has never seen you as anything else but one.

Knowing you put yourself down this this claws at him, he partially feels guilty. But he puts in the effort to make you feel exactly like who you are, to bring your radiant light back into his life again.

-Johnny Cage...

can't stand loosing your positivity, your light is an ever-burning warmth that keeps him rather grounded, despite his wit and charm.

He's plunged into sudden darkness when he wakes up to you with your back turned to him, pushed as far away as possible at the edge of the bed. In an instant, it feels like his whole world is ripped away from him.

But, he's determined to make sure it isn't, and he begins with the questioning almost immediately. This was the quickest you've ever seen him wake up. And to find the reason you've pushed yourself away from him is because you don't see yourself how he sees you, and that you are ashamed- no, no. He can't have that.

Johnny cuts you off immediately, showering you and pampering you with affirmations. He does not allow you any room to let your mind twist your identity. He makes it known that you are a man, he sees you as a man, everyone sees you as a man.

He's serious, too. All traces of the signature Cage tone are wiped out, his voice soft, yet heavy. He doesn't let you, not even for a second, get back into your dysphoric mind-space. He tries, real hard, anyways.

Johnny only lets up when he finally sees even a potential smile on your face. And once he's so sure he's affirmed your gender,- and you've affirmed yourself- he's back to his over-the-top persona, bathed in wit and perhaps even a little bit of pride.

© freyito, 2023 | masterlist | queue | kofi DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[carnivorousyandeere]

Alright more thoughts— specifically about Marcus with afab Darling and kegel balls. Please heed the warnings, this one’s fucked up

More Unethical Pelvic Floor Therapy with Marcus

( MDNI, No Age in Bio DNI )

CW: abuse of power, gaslighting, unethical medicine, intentional bad medical advice (leaving kegel balls in for extended periods can actually fatigue your muscles and damage them; any company suggesting you do this instead of actual exercises is working from pseudoscience. If it’s your kink to leave ‘em in a long time go ham or whatever… just know the risks), smut, dubcon, overstimulation, painful fingering, painful sex, mating press but no talk of actual breeding

Info: gn afab reader

Your physical therapists had recommended you start using kegel balls— “it’ll help with your mood and disgestion!” Said one. “It’s a great workout, helps keep you healthy,” nodded the second. The last insinuated it would improve your sex life— as if you’d had sex with anyone but the three of them since you started visiting their office.

None of them had really explained how you were supposed to use them, so you figured your best bet would be to ask Marcus. The other two would insist on “showing you how to use them,” and you’d just end up fucked out in one of their offices again. When you asked, he just laughed a little and pushed up his glasses, typing away at his computer and not sparing a glance, as if you should already know the answer.

“You lube it up, with as little lube as possible, and slide it into the vaginal canal. Then, it should rest rather comfortably near your cervix, much as a tampon might. After that, you just let it stay there for a few hours while you go about your day. Your pelvic floor muscles will contract as you go about your day.”

“Oh…” you feel your face burning. “Is that… it, then?”

“Mm?” Marcus finally glances up at you. “Yeah? You shouldn’t keep them in for longer than eight hours at a time. And if you think the ones we’ll be sending you home with are too big, or you experience any pain or unusual discharge, come back in right away.”

~~~

You made it a few days. The feeling was strange, though not unpleasant— at first. You could feel it inside you as you walked around, though if you ignored it the feeling began to fade. You did notice yourself squirming a bit more, finding it harder to get comfortable. You felt… full in a way you hadn’t before. Eating and drinking made the pressure in your gut all the more noticeable. You tried not to think about it too much, and took it out at the end of your day as instructed, even though the lack of a string to pull it by was a little difficult.

The second day, you had a little trouble inserting the ball, though not too much. You did notice a small ache as the day wore on, and that your underwear felt a little more… wet than usual. At the end of the day, though, you were able to take the ball out and relax.

You woke up hot and wet the third day. You felt a little tight, but the ball slipped in without much trouble. You couldn’t focus on anything, though. Your abdomen felt so tight and hot. You feared you might leak through your underwear, and had to come home early to try and compose yourself. But try as you might when you got home, you couldn’t get the kegel ball out. You’d gotten too tight, painfully so. Embarrassed and needier than you could remember being in a long while, you pulled your clothes back up and make your way to the clinic for Marcus’ help.

~~~

It doesn’t take him long to figure out what’s going on between your panicked expression and the sweat beading at your temples, even as you struggle to tell him what’s wrong. Marcus coaxes you to undress. You lay back on an exam table, and Marcus quickly dawns a sterile mask and a pair of gloves, spreading lube over his gloved fingers. You hiss and flinch away when his fingers ghost over your clit. You see Marcus’ glimmering eyes narrow over his mask.

“You kept that damn thing in for hours a day, didn’t you?”

“Y-yes, you… told me to…”

Marcus’ eyebrows shoot up. “There’s no way… that’s far too long… your poor muscles must be so fatigued.”

He slides a finger inside you, eyebrows raising even a bit further when the tip of his finger meets the kegel ball still lodged inside you. “You couldn’t even get it out again… poor baby.”

He ignores your pained whines as he slides his finger in and out, adding a bit more lube to ease you. He doesn’t want to permanently injure you, after all… You tense and tear up as a second finger begins to slide in. Marcus shushes you, holding your hip with his other hand and brushing his thumb over the skin.

“You’ll be alright, we’ve just gotta open you up enough to pull it out.” He scissors his fingers gently, working you open. His eyes rove hungrily over your form, following the tears that drip from your eyes and devouring your pained expression like it’s a fine dessert. His pants feel much too tight.

Eventually, Marcus is able to grab the small ball and gently wiggle it free. You let out a sigh of relief and slump against the table when his hands leave you, and the ball thumps onto the table then clatters away onto the floor, forgotten as Marcus’ hands come back to spread you open to get a good look. Your folds are wet and puffy, much more than from the lube. Marcus twitches in his pants, fighting back a groan.

You tense again, wet eyes darting to him in surprise when you feel his finger testing your entrance again. “M-Marcus, please, it’s too—“

“Sore?” He interrupts. “Yeah, that’s what happens when you don’t listen to me. And if I don’t massage out these muscles now, it’s only gonna feel worse on down the line.”

You whine, turning your face to the side as Marcus slides that finger deeper inside and slides his mask down with his other hand. He kisses your cheek, tasting the tear tracks there. You shut your eyes and nod. It’s all you can do.

Your muscles are just too tight, clenching painfully around around his thick fingers as he works them inside. He spreads you apart a little bit more, keeping up the pretense of helping to relieve the ache in your core, before his fingers find that sensitive spot inside you. You jolt at the feeling, a lightning bolt of strained pleasure that has you gritting your teeth through the stars in your vision.

Marcus shushes you as you pant and groan at the strange feeling building in your gut, his fingers working that spot ever more harshly. He reassures you that everything’s going to be okay. He kisses your cheek, your forehead, strokes your hip with his free hand. It’s the most painful orgasm you’ve ever felt, but the relief that follows as you gush around his fingers is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. You go boneless against the exam table, covering your face and willing your heart to calm down.

Marcus’ fingers still, but only for a moment. He curls them again right before you can catch your breath.

“M-Marcus, no, it hurts, I can’t-”

He curls his fingers harder, breathing in your pained whine as his lips ghost over yours.

“I’ll help you feel better, but you need to relax.”

“I can’t,” you sob.

“You can,” he insists. “Be good and let me help you.”

You sob harder, finding yourself nodding again, relinquishing control over yourself as you let him work you over on his fingers again and again. You feel so tired, so achy, the burning pleasure rubbing your nerves raw like sandpaper.

Marcus relishes in your cries, making you cum twice, then thrice, before losing patience and slipping his scrubs down to rub his cock against you. You jolt and cry out even louder as his tip brushes over your clit. Marcus bites his lip, fighting back a groan at the sight. You look so pretty, tear-stained and incoherent.

He can’t help running his hands up the backs of your thighs, slick with sweat, and pressing them firmly against your chest as he slides in. Marcus stays still for a moment, savoring how hot and wet you are. You’re so tight that every twitch of him inside you makes you gasp with the discomfort. He knows you’re only going to be more sore in the morning. The thought of taking care of you, so weak and helpless, only makes him twitch even harder, moaning against the shell of your ear.

[magicalqueennightmare]

Not Exactly a Win (N.C.)

Homelander goes down for good

Non Canon storyline part 3 to Not Exactly Babysitting & Not Exactly a Lie

Its the boys so lots of crazy shit

You hadn't spoken to Billy since the last time you fucked him and hadn't talked to Ben since he admitted to you that Homelander was his son. You knew everything was coming to a head, you could feel it but didn't know how close it was until Annie called you to go with her to meet Hughie.

"What do you mean?" You asked Hughie who shrugged "He punched me. I woke up and called Annie for a ride" you sat back in the seat and let out a harsh breath. If Butcher had ditched Hughie the final showdown was on the horizon. The question was whether or not anyone would be standing by the time it was through.

Maeve was at the apartment by the time the three of you got back and after she told you all what she knew there was only one option, go after Butcher and Ben.

-----------

You saw Maeve move before anyone else did and when she threw the nerve gas meant for Ben out of the window you knew that meant she was of the same mind as you. Homelander had to die,no matter what. Butcher cut his eyes at you before motioning to Hughie, Annie, Frenchie, Kimiko and MM "Lets get em in the safe"

"I'm sorry" was the last thing you told them before closing the door behind them. You turned to face Maeve, Ben and Butcher "Lets do this"

Leave it to Homelander to resort to attempted emotional manipulation. He did it for a living with Vought but you never expected he would've brought Ryan into it. You and Billy locked eyes when he stepped out, this complicated things.

One minute Ben was choking Homelander, the next Ryan was hitting Ben with a blast and without thinking you lunged forward and caught the impact of Ben's shield before he could hit Ryan.

----------

You felt your body slam into a wall and vaguely heard Ben and Billy shout your name but Ryan's voice was closer. You opened your eyes to see him on his knees next to your head "please don't die. I didn't mean for you to get hurt, please Y/N"

You offered him a small smile "it's ok Ryan. I'm a supe too remember?" He moved to help you up and behind him you could see Billy and Ben fighting while Maeve fought Homelander. You had to get Ryan out the way and everyone focused on the task at hand. "Ryan I need to tell you something and it's gonna hurt but you know me, I wouldn't lie to you"

He nodded "What is it?" You took a deep breath "Remember seeing my tattoos and asking about them?" "The scars?" He asked and christ his voice sounded so small "Your dad gave them to me and he hurt your mom really bad too. He's not a good man" he blinked back tears "But he said.." he trailed off then you could see him steady himself "How did he hurt you and mom?"

You didn't know what to say to a twelve year old "He wanted us and we didn't want him" his eyes glowed red with his powers "Then he needs to die" he started to stand but you grabbed his arm "Not you. I need you to get out of here. MM and the rest of the boys will be here soon. They'll keep you safe and get you back to Grace. If i make it out of here I'll find you kid" "What about you?" You nodded towards the chaos happening around the two of you "I've got to handle this" he nodded and started to move towards the door but stopped to look back at you "Try not to die" then ran for the exit. "I'll do my best" you muttered pushing yourself to your feet.

Homelander laughed as he dodged your flame and shot a blast towards Maeve "Did you really think the two of you could stop me?" You shrugged "No but we can distract you"

You and Maeve dove out the way of the blast about the time Ben hit Homelander. You watched as he hit his knees, the compound V burning out of his veins. Once the blast was gone Ben's breathing was heavy and Billy was barely on his feet, the two of them looked at you then in unison Ben slammed his shield into Homelander's chest as Billy shot him square in the eye.

The official report? An explosion in Vought tower claimed the lives of Soldier Boy, his son Homelander, his grandson Ryan and fellow supe Maeve.

Grace let Ben walk away, put Ryan back into protective custody for a while and you, Billy and the boys would be left with the aftermath. It didn't matter, Homelander was dead and Ryan was alive and safe from him. You could handle the team being pissed. Your nightmare was gone.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s3 episode 1 thoughts

wow… how much time has progressed… and to think, a mere two months ago, i barely knew these character’s names, let alone that they will likely stick with me for eternity...

let us begin. as we always must do.

okay, so i’m reading the episode description: scully is facing a possible dismissal!!! i know she broke rules but it was for FRIENDSHIP and LOVE! does that not count for anything anymore?!

(spooky noise) (dried up alien shot) (voice of disembodied narrative) last season on the X files…

(a recap of cig man burning things)

we open back in New Mexico, to Albert describing his relationship to memory and history: “memory is radiant and immutable, while history serves only those who seek to control it” <- banger line.

anyway. we see the smoldering ruins of that train car that was once full of aliens. but not a single mulder in sight…

cig man is breaking into the kind people’s houses!! he and his cronies are conducting violence… THEY HIT ALBERT IN THE HEAD NOOO??? HE IS A HERO... cig man, you are less than a mosquito to me

scully time!!! she’s on the scene… guess she didn’t get far back to DC. “where is he?” she asks, and they look at each other with concern in their eyes. oh, they don’t know...

eric walks into the room with a terribly beaten face... NOOO ERIC, THEY SHOULD HAVE NEVER DONE THIS TO YOU.

now scully is screaming for him on the cliffs whilst the smoke still billows from the train where he was last seen… no response… it is not looking good for our friend mulder!!

she finally tries to go home, and a helicopter is shining on scully. RIGHT on her. this is not good for driving. they run her off the road with no regard for anyone's safety??? could have caused a MASSIVE pileup.

anyway, they grab her and it’s upsetting, asking where the files are and she says in the trunk. do we believe her??? it’s a copy of some of them, but not the DAT, which i would guess means the original cassette tape... oh nooo i’m scared… i mean she couldn’t deny it, but it’s also not looking good for the secrets she was trying to keep. so, without the "DAT", they just leave.

back at the FBI, they are telling her she needs to take a leave of absence. she is looking at the ground and it is once again giving student in the principal’s office. NO PAY OR BENEFITS??? you can't do that... what if she needs to go to the doctor......

i guess she is a doctor but the point stands. you NEED insurance in these parts.

she gives them her badge and gun and says she thinks mulder is dead :( NOOOOO you cannot admit defeat

skinner says “don’t think this hasn’t been difficult for everyone” and she is holding back a very very very biting remark but actually manages to hold it back, so god only knows what she wanted to say. a stronger woman than i.

until she leaves the room, that is!!! skinner comes out to talk to her and OH SHE IS MAD!!

“what about the people who are poisoning agent mulder’s water? whose protocol was that? the men who killed agent mulder, the people who killed his father- they aren’t meant to be found”

“we will find them”

“with all due respect, sir, I think you overestimate your position in the chain of command” <- OHHHH TEA. she basically said, you're a liar working for liars and perpetuating lies. meanwhile WE'RE the only real bitches at the function and one of ‘em’s dead because of YOUR pet cigarette man. SICK!!!!! truly evil.

now she has to find some work to pay the bills skinner!!

(i don't think skinner is evil, i just think he's a dick sometimes and that pisses me off more than sheer evilness. EACH time i think i have him figured out. he does something that proves me wrong)

one last visit to mulder's office before she leaves. she's going to take the real files on the cassette and they are GONE??? to whom have they gone…..

back in new york city. it's a meeting of the minds, all the big names in the world of covering up the existence of aliens. cig man is saying everything is fine, mulder is dead, and all the files are back. ALLEGEDLY!! i believe him on no accounts.

GASP scully going to her mom’s house… she walked there barefoot at night because her shoes hurt her :(

“i’ve made a terrible mistake. dad would be so ashamed of me” NOOOOOOOOOOOO DON’T SAY THAT!!!

(i cannot speak to the moral character of her father but if it were me, i would say it was doing the Right thing that counts far more than following corrupt orders from a corrupt system. and this is further proof that she is one of those people who Has to do the right thing or the guilt will consume her... )

and she DID do the right thing!!!! she just doesn't have faith!!!! i'll cry!!!

buzzards back in New Mexico… oh........

HAND SPOTTED!! white man’s hand in the rocks. is it mulder smushed?????? 

IT IS!! albert and co are hauling him out of a hole, and he’s looking quite dead, but he seems to have hid in a cave with the aliens. good on him for finding a convenient hole to duck into.

they’re doing a ceremony to call the Holy People!!!! i hope it works because remember, the calusari said mulder knows the devil and that seems contradictory...

hopefully they were just lying.

scully back home. sleeping in bed. answering the door, for someone knocks.

it’s FROHIKE???? i cackled. WHY does he know where she lives! and also why is he here when she is in her robe! well. i guess mourning will have you up and about at odd hours.

he drank a whole bottle of what looks like vodka...? and described mulder as “a redwood among mere sprouts” i laughed... it's so genuine. we all know a frohike, for better or for worse.

he assumes that she will be next in line for hunting The Truth, to which she replies, “i’m soon to be out of a job”. but she's a doctor, so it is gonna be okay. maybe she can just leave the last few months off her resume and get letters of recommendation from her professors. doctors, high in demand.

"and like rats, they just scatter back into the woodpile” she says, when discussing how these secretive people pull the strings behind the curtains. i took note because this is a yeehaw-sounding saying.

i guess we don't ever learn where she grew up, because it probably wasn't in one place, with her dad in the navy... but still. such a phrase is giving some sort of appalachia.

frohike brings bad news: the thinker was killed EXECUTION STYLE and found in a landfill... this is soooo fucked up. she is shocked they would do something so stupid and i was like ??? but ohh she's talking about tracing the bullets!

(i only realized this much later. i won't lie)

back in New Mexico, albert is working overtime calling the Holy People to come help, and mulder's floating out in space as he contemplates leaving this plane… 

people are surrounding him. perhaps the holy people or his ancestors??

but no, it is... DEEP THROAT??? I’VE MISSED YOU!!! it was nice to see him again, even for a brief moment in the astral plane.

he’s going on, very theatrically, about the absence of time in whatever it is inhabits after life: “i come to you, old friend, with the dull clarity of the dead, not to beckon you, but to feel the fire and intensity that still live in you…. there is truth here, if that is what you seek, but there is no justice or judgement, without which, truth is a vast, dead hallow” <- he has been reading Shakespeare in the afterlife 

no i actually loved that line. it goes hard. "the dull clearity of the dead". i'm eating that arrangement of words up

cutscene: aliens being gassed and locked in the railroad car. that’s…. Horrific 

(this scene takes mere seconds, and isn't addressed again in any real way in the episode, but holy. it was. unsettling. what did these bastards do to them....?)

back to the commune with the deceased. it's Bill! mr. mulder! he opens his eyes at his dad’s voice. his dad says he’s very sorry for lying about the whole alien thing, and says he is the memory; “if you were to die now, the truth would die, and only the lies survive us”. so no pressure whatsoever. /s

seemingly awake now, he asks if his sister is in the realm with the rest of those who have passed. and he learns she isn't there yet, so i'm pretty sure that makes up his mind, that he'll go back. but imagine if the answer was yes, she was there... do you think he would have still found the strength to return?

back in D.C., scully has to take the visitor’s entrance to the FBI :( but the security guard knows her!!! she is friendly in this way :) she beeps suspiciously... but he lets her though. i suspect that she might be hiding something... but what?

she's waiting for skinner. and ohhh skinner didn’t call her “agent” this time...ohhh the vibes are…….. not really vibing. it is uncomfortable.

she is bringing the news article to him and suggesting cross running the weapon that killed the thinker with the weapon that killed mulder’s dad to get some answers. this seems reasonable to me! he says she has been relieved of investigative duty and basically dismisses her. but she just wants to be helpful!!!! can you blame her??? she just wants to be HELPFUL, skinner, she wants her friend back and not dead. so please DON'T say something catty right now, i SWEAR.

SKINNER. I HATE YOU SOMETIMES. “ohhh the systems would have went off” so there is no need to cross reference the weapons. they’re killing people executioner style!!!! do you really think the people at the police department wouldn’t cover such a thing up?!?!? come ON let's use our heads!!!

he parrots her earlier line about him not having as much power as he thinks... ohhh you bitch. you should both be on the same team here and that team is "please let agent mulder be ALIVE"

he’s all “oh, you just wanna be helpful because you want your job back?” and she very firmly says NO. i just want answers. and honestly, she is handling this way better than i would be. because i would be biting and clawing skinner at this moment. to imply that she just wants her JOB back when she's trying to bring him information regarding a bunch of mysterious deaths, including that of her PARTNER?!?!?

so he says to bring him the cassette tape that she DOESN’T have or otherwise sit tight and let them do their job. and there is unbridled rage in her eyes but it somehow manages to not escape beyond body language and again, applause. 

pause. i’m actually so pissed on scully's behalf right now. and i just KNOW filming these scenes had to be fun.

as always in skinner's office, Bill Clinton watches over everything. his eyes are cold and uncaring. like a god who has abandoned its creation.

the MINUTE she leaves his office, cig man enters... SICK!!!! he's asking about the tape that he earlier claimed to the squad in new york that he got back… “that’s unfortunate”, he says, when he learns she doesn't have it. did he PLANT IT ON HER?? is that what the beeping was? do cassettes beep on metal detectors? i had some as a kid, i just remember feelings of plastic when holding them <-op was NOT onto something here

upon leaving, she is confused about the thingy beeping again. “you wearing a necklace or something?”, asks the security man. “no, not today”, and...... OH.... THE VISUAL INDICATOR THAT SHE HAS LOST ALL FAITH IN THE FORM OF HER CROSS NECKLACE BEING ABSENT. AUGHHHH TEARING MY SHIRT. ripping my hair out in grief. but that leaves the real question: what is in there?

she goes to the doctor, who looks at her neck. SOMETHING IS IN HER SKIN??? embedded in there. oh... it’s scarred over and they’re gonna pull it out, and i'm thinking i might gag if they show it, but thankfully they cut then. WHAT DID THEY DO TO HER IN ALIEN LAND????

back to the New Mexico cam!!! mulder progress!! three days of chanting and he is asking for water!! good news. 

back to D.C. no extraction scene visible, thank god. COMPUTER CHIP???? IN HER NECK??? did they microchip her... so they can track her location... or is it some sort of coded information... oh this is soooo evil

back talking with melissa!!!! my witchy best friend!!! melissa wants scully to unpack her memories, but can you blame her for NOT wanting to do that?? does reliving alien testing sound fun to you??? but, despite her reservations, she goes to a hypnotherapist anyway because she is a good sister and melissa played the "please? for me?" card

(damn, this show sure has a lot of hypnotherapy. it’s funny because i have never encountered it at all outside of this show. maybe it was the big thing at the time? and they wanted to be cool and trendy?)

but we’re back now, in repressed memory town, circa the Duane Barry era. regarding whoever was conducting the tests on her, she says she couldn’t resist them. hey what does THAT mean!!!

things look close to getting revealed when she says it’s time to go. like i said, i can imagine this is probably top ten worst sensations of all time.

so she drives back home and skinner is there??? HUH???? she looks sooooo gagged. and i was too.

(tell me why. oh god this is awful. tell me why my first reaction was “she must be going back to her mom's place... and he’s dating scully’s mom”) (cue the "i'm going to start dating her HARDER" scene from the office)

back in New Mexico. to end the ceremony, mulder must not do any work, change clothes, or bathe for 4 days. PLEASE DO THIS THING MY FRIEND. the boys give him a pouch for sunflower seeds, which he asked for during the worst of his fevers. the sunflower seeds... that when he heard them as a kid, reminded him he was not the last person in the universe... my sweet babygirl, who is a grown man breaking many many laws... glad to have you back in our world

albert shares that he went to the origin place, so overall, this mission seems to have been a success. so please, mulder, do NOT screw this up!!! sit in a hotel room and eat your seeds in your dirty clothes just do NOT break the rules of the ceremony that just saved your life.

scully calls skinner, asking why he was at her place, and he denies ever being at her apartment. BUT cig man is sitting right in front of him soooo it wouldn't have been a good time to talk anyway...

mulder is monologuing into the abyss, as he has found a way to infiltrate scully’s dreams!! very impressive!!

cutscene to his father’s his funeral. scully is there. because she is fundamentally good. she hasn’t met his mother before, right? i recall thinking earlier their first exchange might not go well, because of the whole sacrificed the “sister” for her in the hostage exchange deal thing...

but it actually goes as well as a first meeting a funeral can go. and without citing her prophetic dreams, scully tells her that she has a strong feeling he will be found. scully engaging in the supernatural...? are her sisters words ringing in her ear? or does she interpret a prophetic message dream as a message from the subconscious. i don't even think she knows.

meanwhile, a suspicious man watches this. he wants to talk to her away from the others. he makes some vague sort of reference to the UN league of alien safeguarding, and he says with confidence that mulder is dead.

AND THEN HE STARTS DESCRIBING HOW SHE WILL BE MURDERED???? okay could we GET any more unsettling. survey is saying no. anyway, she will be murdered with either with an unregistered weapon and people who will be out of the country right after the crime has been committed, or by someone she trusts visiting her house. uh oh… skinner looking sus

she asks why she is worth killing: "you want something they don’t- justice” hmm. many such cases in american history.

this guy claims to be tipping her off because his colleagues are acting “impulsively” and her death would just draw attention to them. i mean they have already killed like, 3 people if you count presumed dead mulder, but maybe one more would really push it over the edge?

mulder’s mom comes home. AND HE’S THERE!!!! in different clothes. 4 days had best have passed. i refuse to contemplate that he violated the terms of the ceremony.

okay, back from the dead, and he is interrogating his mom about his dad. she is not answering any questions- does she truly not remember or is she just deflecting... she wants to know what the deal is, and he grabs a gun and says it has to do with samantha. and leaves ominously. that man sure does want to make a dramatic exit.

missy wants to come over (scully calls her sister missy!), and she says to come over. but then someone immediately calls and hangs up- a universal sign of danger, as scully knows. she tries to call missy back, but she doesn't pick up the phone. so she calls back and she says she’ll go over to missy's place instead. the air is very very tense. something is about to go down. but what? 

running to her car. and IT'S SKINNER? he says to get in the car. scully goes in anyway but is very clearly suspicious he’ll kill her. AND SHE PULLS THE GUN ON HIM WHEN THEY GET TO MULDER'S PLACE!

“don’t turn around, or I’ll blow your head off” TEAAA! let out some of that rage i was earlier commenting was so well managed.

“don’t think I won’t do it, you son of a bitch” “no, I believe you” <- LMAOOOO he knows she is NOT messing around. and he does everything she asks of him, even sitting on his hands.

NOOOOO MELISSA GOES TO SCULLY'S PLACE AND KRYCHEK SHOOTS HER????? WHAAAAAAAAAAT???? he looks down and realizes it isn't scully, so he tells his companion that they should just leave. absolutely useless flop of a man. how did he even get into the FBI. maybe they'll just take anyone.

back to mulder's place. skinner claims he has the tape, and that he took it from mulder's desk. then why would he have sent her on the fool's errand of trying to find it? and now they BOTH have guns drawn on each other… as someone approaches the door…. presumably mulder coming home???

OHHHHHH this is the first time i have wanted to drop absolutely EVERYTHING and go straight into the next episode, writeup be damned. AUGHHH. what about melissa!!!!!! please let her make it PLEASE I CAN’T WATCH SCULLY ENDURE THIS!!!! can you imagine if she walks in the door and sees her sister bleeding out... hopefully krychek was too much of a failure to even land a lethal wound.

and honestly, from the moment I laid eyes on Krychek way back in s2, so long ago, i KNEW that he was a fucking rat. like. evil evil evil. idk how they’re gonna try and make me like him again if they decide to keep him on as a recurring character, but i truly do NOT give a fuck about what sort of backstory they come up with for him. i’m choosing anger over healing here. 

i’m that guy by the cork board pinning things with string and smoking a cigarette until all the things line up because truly WHAT is going on!!!! 

really great episode; the pacing and suspense were fantastic, i feel pumped to start a new season, i have a million questions but in an exciting rather than an overwhelming way, skinner you are once again on thin ice!!!

[indigo-graves]

Currahee | Joe Toye

If there was a waiting room in hell, it was overseen by Herbert Sobel. At least, that’s what Vivian had convinced herself over the span of three months under his orders. She hated to admit it, but Sobel had found a way to be harsher on her than the men of Easy, as if it was his life’s mission to prove just how wrong they had been to allow a woman into the Company. Between his constant reminders of her gender, of the balance that needed to be struck for her to continue a part of the paratroopers, of the way the men considered her nothing more than a distraction from their objectives. The only positive response from it all was the way the rest of the Company responded to his overt attempts to cut her down to size. 

At first, there were nods of agreement, eye rolls, knowing looks and glances her way. It evolved then to averted eyes, bitten cheeks, sympathetic looks. After months of proving herself as good of a candidate as any of her male counterparts, she was noticing gritted teeth, clenched fists, and muttered resentments. 

Similar to the ones that resounded around her as the Company busted their asses three miles up, three miles down. It was only on Currahee that Vivian ever found herself questioning if she would make it to Europe. She often joked with her companions about how they would have to ship her back home to her mother with a note about how she perished two and a half miles up a mountain in Georgia. 

True to her suspicions, as Vivian pushed herself up the last leg of the incline, she felt a cramp begin in her calf. Cursing, she limped to the side of the trail, away from the group of men that surrounded her. Sweat dripped from her brow as she leaned forward, reaching for her toes to stretch through the pain. She wiped her forehead and cheeks with the back of her free hand, blowing the strands of hair from her face. 

“You okay?” The gruff voice of one concerned Joe Toye only took her slightly by surprise. If anyone were going to stop, it was going to be Toye, who had found a way to show up just about anywhere when she needed any form of support (and even when she didn’t.) 

“Cramp,” she nodded back to him, kneading into the back of her calf. “I’ll be alright.” 

“Here,” Joe reached his canteen out towards her. 

“I’ve got my own,” she reminded him, adjusting the strap of her canteen on her shoulder. “Besides, it’ll be a boring weekend for anyone who takes a sip without Sobel’s okay.” 

Joe shrugged, “that’s why I offered mine.” 

“Thanks,” she smiled softly, starting to feel the muscle tension relent. She alternated between flexing and pointing her foot, sighing with relief. “You shouldn’t let them get too far. He’ll have your ass.” 

“Fuck ‘em,” Joe shrugged again. “I’ll tell him I was taking a piss.” 

Vivian laughed, “and what was I doing?” 

Joe felt heat rise in his cheeks as he recognized what this may look like to a Commander who was already working tirelessly to invalidate a woman’s place in the Company. He scratched the back of his head.

“I guess we should both get moving then,” he gestured to the rest of the company, starting to look smaller and smaller up ahead. 

“Yep,” Vivian replied, limping herself into a quick walk, then up to a jog. 

When they got up to the rest of the group, Vivian was able to slow her pace, thankful to give the burn in her lungs time to subside. 

“Where’d ya go?” Luz asked Toye, looking over at Vivian who was working overtime now to keep pace with the soreness in her calf. 

“Quickie in the woods?” Guarnere asked slyly, causing a few chuckles to resound. 

“Yeah, don’t forget to give your mother my regards,” Joe spat back, causing Vivian to smirk. Joe winked back at her.

[thissharktypes]

Into the Border-verse: 2

2 - Electric personality 

Oh god. Your head is swimming, trying desperately to peel your eyes open. Please shut up. Though the chatter around you was muffled, like you were underwater, it was still too loud. Your stomach churns violently, that’s enough to have your eyes flying open and flinging yourself over the edge of the bed to unleash all the contents of your stomach onto the floor. You cough, throat burning, tears pooling in your eyes as you continue to dry heave, nothing left to bring up. A gentle hand pulls you backwards and you slump against the pillows. A kind looking doctor dabs the tears from your cheeks and begins adjusting the blankets over you “Damn kid, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone spew that much, and I once saw a psycho being swung around in circles by his feet, puking the whole way ‘round.” The doctor snorts a little before nudging a cup towards you “Better swish your mouth kid.” you grab the cup, hands shaking slightly, you swish before quickly gulping down the water, very aware of how dry your mouth is “Am I…” you look around “in my world?” you couldn’t think of a way to phrase that without sounding insane, just in case you did just have a weird ass dream. He shakes his head “Sorry, can’t say you are, Lilith filled me in on what happened. They all want you in the meeting room once you’re feeling better, I think they’re hopin’ you can give them some help with their plans.” you shake your head “No,” your voice cracks and you wince “I can’t, I don’t support what they do in the games, I don’t support anything anyone does,” you pause “So much violence for what they believe is right, so many innocent lives…” even though for you it was just a video game, you still felt your heart tug whenever you had to watch a scene play out in a way you didn't like. The doctor raises a bushy eyebrow “I’d keep that to yourself kid, wouldn’t want them to get the wrong idea.” his eyes darted to the door “But they won’t let you leave, with the information you have…” he trails off but you understand “Comply or die, right?” he snorts again “You got that right.” the doctor slips a hand under your arm as you struggle to sit up “Let’s get this over with.” He gives a quick nod and you both make your way painfully slow towards the meeting room. 

You pause halfway there, unsure of why you’re so out of breath, huffing, you lean forward, trying to suck in more air “I have a theory,” you motion for the doctor to keep talk while you start to recover “if you’re from a different universe, then more than likely your air is different from ours, might take a bit to adapt.” you pull yourself upright “It feels like I’m breathing in pudding.” you groan out “Poo-ding?” it's your turn to snort “No, PUH-ding, like, chocolate or vanilla goop, there’s other flavors too but most of them are gross.” the doctor just looks even more confused “It's like… a dessert?” his eyes light up “Sweets! I love that stuff, think you could make it for me?” you two begin walking again and you shrug “Maybe, I was a cook in my world, might be able to whip up something similar.” he grins “A cook! How exciting, who do you cook for?” you smile “I worked in a hospital, we had a huge team, sometimes I’d help prep, maybe help in the back with the dishwashers,” your smile drops “I was supposed to be heading to work when I came here.” your chest hurts “What if I never see my coworkers again…” the thought brings tears to your eyes again “You like your team?” you nod “I loved them, they were like family honestly, they took care of me, reminded me to eat, take breaks, drink water.” you and the doctor near the large room where you can see a few figures around a table “What about your actual family?” he asks softly, you grind your teeth and blink away the tears “Fuckin losers, the lot of ‘em,” you pause “Except my grandparents.” your voice softens at the thought of them “They passed away a few years ago though.” the doctor pats your arm “I’m sorry kid, I don’t know why you were sucked into our world but I sure do like you so far.” he smiles as he leads you to a chair across from Tannis “Well, here’s the kid, be nice to ‘em.” he locks eyes with Lilith and she glowers back. 

It takes a solid hour of screaming back and forth between you and Lilith for someone to finally intervene “Shut up you absolute children!” Tannis screeches over you and the red head, you both fall silent “Lilith, this isn’t working. Nothing is being solved and they obviously don’t want to help us.” Tannis sticks up her nose “Some people just don’t want to save lives I supposed.” you snarl, standing up and slamming your hands down on the table, rattling the coffee cups next to you “I am saving lives, Lives you all took! For your own selfish fucking reasons!” you snap, Tannis and Lilith both boiling with rage while Roland and Brick both looked on with disapproval. 

“Then you give us no choice.” Lilith's voice is harsh.

Before you can blink your arms are pinned behind you and you’re being dragged, kicking and screaming, down a hallway. Your head slams against the wall as Lilith tosses you inside a cell, a thick door sliding shut after you “If you won’t give us the information willingly then we’ll take it by force.” She stares at you through the slit in the door “And you wonder why I won’t help you Crimson Scumbags!” you shout as she turns to leave. 

You aren’t sure how long you’re in the cell, whenever you’re dragged out you can never see a window. The only other place you’ve been to was a grimey and dark room, tied to the chair and beaten black and blue. When whoever tortured you couldn’t get information, your limp body would be hauled back to the cell. 

Your stomach ached, mouth dry, ribs on fire, skin crusted in blood. You never liked Liliths character and this whole situation was proving you right. Lost in your thoughts of the not so fictional game you almost didn’t feel the room around you begin to shake. You drag yourself upright, pain spiking but confusion and curiosity winning out. Screaming echos from somewhere in the building, gunshots echoing soon after. Crawling to the door you bang against it, not entirely sure if you were hoping to be saved or just put out of your misery by the intruders. Your fists thump weakly against the thick door before you slide back down to the ground, your entire stomach and chest burning from exerting yourself. 

A door slams open, followed by several sets of footsteps. You hit the ground hard as the door you were leaning against slides open. You groan and whimper, more pain ricocheting down your spine as you blink up at a grinning face “Hey there babydoll, it’s your knight in shining mask! Handsome Jack!” He motions for the guards behind him to haul you up and you gasp in pain “Fucking shit!” you yelp “Hey now, language! A pretty mouth like yours shouldn’t be used for something so dirty.” he winks at you “Is this yours kiddo? Found it on a table back there.” he hold up your backpack and you weakly nod “Great! Lets get going!” Jack starts walking with an exaggerated marching movement “We got real lucky that the Crimson Asshats aren’t here,” he shoots a wink back at you “I wouldn’t really call it luck, just having spies on the inside.” he wiggles his fingers in your face. 

The two guards holding you up follow behind a chattering Jack, their quick pace leading you all back to a large ship parked haphazardly in front of the building you were being held in. Bright yellow stripes decorate the sides, marking it as Hyperion property, blindingly obvious. As soon as the guards drop you onto a chair Jack is twirling around and slamming a red syringe into your thigh. A sharp burning pain from where the needle hits, followed by sweet sweet relief. You let out a loud sigh, finally feeling better after God knows how long, your body relaxing into the plush seat under you “Thank you.” you say up at Jack who stood over you as your body mended.

He looks slightly taken aback before regaining composure “Of course dollface, I can’t have my secret weapon dying on me.” you groan “Don’t tell me,” He cuts you off “Yup! I know all about your alternate universe and you knowing allllllllll about whats gonna happen here.” He grins, plopping down in a chair as the ship lifts off. “You gonna beat the shit outta me too then?” you lean your head back against the cushy headrest and close your eyes “Not if you listen like a good little pet.” his voice is soft, but firm, an edge to it. You just nod “I know, I know, Blood, guts and glory, ‘I’ll shoot anyone that disrespects me, The Handsomest Jack’.” you lower your voice at the end, putting on an overly annoying male voice. To your surprise Jack bursts out laughing, you open one eye, watching as he bends over grabbing his knee and chest while his entire body shakes in laughter. A grin tugs at your lips “Glad to know you agree that I’m the best looking Jack.” he says after he trails off into giggles “You certainly like your ego stroked pretty boy.” you say through a smile and he wiggles his eyebrows at you “That’s not the only thing I like stroked sweetcheeks.” he raises his hand in a fist and makes a lewd motion, causing you to be the one to hunch over laughing. 

Losing your shit over the Handsome Jack miming a handy-j was not what you expected when you picked up your controller that day. After a few moments of silence, with your eyes closed and head snuggly pressed into the cushion behind you, Jack clears his throat, bringing your attention back to him “So, my source tells me you never told any of the Crimson Raiders anything, you just took the beatings and stayed quiet.” you nod and scratch your head, unsure of where this conversation was going “Why?” he asks “Why what?” you reply, tilting your head “Why didn’t you tell them something.” you shrug and pick at your nails, dirt and blood flaking away “Lots of reasons, I didn’t like Lilith when I played the games, I didn’t like what the Crimson Raiders did, how many people they killed in the name of their mission,” Jack watches you “Yeah sure you killed a shit ton of people, I don’t think there’s a single character that didn’t kill someone, but still,” you frown “I think that you do what you do because you want to be a hero, you want to save people, while Lilith does what she does because she thinks shes better than other people. Her character is pretty well liked, but something about her just rubbed me the wrong way.” your eyes light up after a short moment “But Maya! Oh dear god, now that is a gorgeous siren.” you grin “She’s so pretty, I swear I’d be a total fankid for her.” Jack chuckles “Didn’t know you swung that way baby.” you snort and shake your head “You’ve got that wrong, I swing all the ways, If they’ve got a pulse and can consent I’ll probably find them attractive.” Jack surprises you by slapping your back “Hell yeah! That’s more like it!”.

You two chit chat on and off for the next hour, your conversation dying off as the ship nears the Hyperion base. You shoot upright, almost skidding across the ship as you dash to the window, face pressed against the glass as you stare in awe at the massive building “Pretty impressive huh?” You whip around to face Jack, completely starry eyed “It’s so cool, Can I explore? I won’t go far I promise, I didn’t get to see much in the game, please please please?” You clasp your hands together as you plead “Oh, I like the sound of you begging hot stuff.” his hand cups your chin, tilting your head back to gaze down at you. Your cheeks turn embarrassingly red, the slight  fascination you had towards the character transferring to the man in front of you “I suppose I could give you a tour if you give me something in return.” You nod, slightly dazed by your proximity to Jack. He slings his arm around your shoulders and leads you off the now parked ship “First of all, what’s Liliths next move?” you hum quietly, trying to remember the plot of your game “You’re not gonna like it, so I’ll keep it short. From what I remember Lilith and her little crew use your daughter, they end up killing her, you end up killing Roland and taking Lilith to be a battery for your vault key, some other shit happens and then they kill you.” You glance up at the man next to you “That’s the just of it.” his grip tightens “Kill me? They can’t kill me, I’m the goddamn hero!” you shrug “That’s how the game goes. Not that I liked it but I can’t change the plot.” he shakes his head “Maybe not in your world, but here? I’m in charge. I make the rules.” you always held a soft spot for Handsome Jack for some strange reason, before you can process what you’re about to say, the words just tumble out “The game wasn’t fair, everything was in the Crimson Raiders favor and you didn’t actually have a shot of winning, I don’t agree with most of the shit you did in the game but I do think your character, you, deserved better.” Jack's grip loosens, the two of you walking in silence. 

He slows his pace “I'll have you set up with a room near mine, I’ll also have some clean clothes and whatever else you need sent there. I’ll give you a tour tomorrow when you’ve rested.” He looks so drained all of the sudden, like the entire weight of the world was dropped on his back. “Thank you, I’ll answer any questions you have if I can, if it helps in any way I’ll do it.” he nods, no smartass retort. Jack silently taps on his echo device “Someone will escort you to your room, your bag is already there for you.” he pauses before placing his hand on your shoulder “Don’t make me regret this kindness honeybunches.” While the tone is teasing, he still has that usual edge of threat underneath. 

You watch the sunset through the window across from your bed. You had spent quite a while just fluttering around the large room, opening random cabinets, poking at furniture and finally unpacking your backpack to see what all you had left inside. The contents dumped carelessly around you, forgotten as you watched the sky darken and fill with stars. Unable to fully process the beauty you drag your comforter to the floor and you wrap it around you as you settle down closer to the window. Your neck hurt from having your head tilted back to stare up at the sky, you felt so lost, not a single constellation standing out from your universe, but somewhere deep inside you also felt so at home, the light pollution from your city never gave way for this many stars. Swaddled in a ridiculously warm blanket and luxury soft pajamas, provided for you by Jack of course, you slowly start to doze off, still curled up on the floor by the window.

[fanofstuff01]

Yeahh.. A small piece of Highschool AU I managed to write. It doesn’t have Adamsapple, sadly, only a bit of holydust. If you don’t know about it, I suggest you to look at @things-arent-what-they-seem66 ‘s account. (a way to tag you bud heheh)

Enjoy! Also slight Emilute

Can you fucking believe all the work I wrote got deleted and I had to rewrite it?!

Adam took their usual, plain food on his tray with dissapointment. Someone needed to tell the fucker who decided these that they were preparing food for highschool kids and not for some criminals.

“Move faster!” He yelled at the line, receiving some swears but no movement. He sighed.

“Adam!”

He turned his head to the voice. Emily was waving happily at him, waiting with Lute. He smiled weakly and mouthed “go without me”. Though they didn’t.

“Hey girls.” He went straight to them when he finally got out of that damned line. He fist bumped Lute as best as he could and began walking.

“Why did you two wait for me?”

“Tolerating them is easier when you’re not alone.” Lute pointed at the Vee’s. Adam groaned, fucking wednesdays. “And Michael isn’t around.”

“Lucky prick.”

The certain group were talking about the same topic again. Adam cursed on the inside. Couldn’t they have a single lunch where no one ever mentioned Alastor?

“So… Oh. Adam. Lute.” Vox greeted them, though it didn’t sound like one. “We were just talking about how to get rid of Alastor. Why don’t you join us?”

“Suure.” Adam gave Lute “Get Em Out Of Here” eye and she understood the signal.

“Hey Em, can we talk?”

“Now?”

“Yes. It can’t wait.” Lute smirked playfully and took Emily’s hand.

“O-oh. Okay.” Emily flushed. Adam rolled his eyes in the background. Sure, this had to be the way Lute did it.

Adam sat down as the girls walked away, playing with his meal as he waited the group to threw another one of their crazy ideas. Sure, he wanted Alastor to have it worse, who wouldn’t but nowadays the things they suggested were no longer cruel, rather straight up illegal. Vox offered to burn him alive for fuck’s sake!

“So, as I was saying, we can’t physically hurt him. Any other ideas?”

“Getting him expelled?”

“I tried that.”

“Exposing him as a groomer?”

“How the fuck is your mind working Val?! No one would believe that!”

“Then what do YOU have in mind Voxxie?”

“I DON’T KNOW!”

“Weakening him socially?” Velvette looked up from her phone, popping a bubblegum.

“Oh how genious! And how are we doing that, Dollface?”

“By beating one of his friends? Then everyone would be away? Really Vox?”

“…”

“This is why you’re my favorite Vel.”

“Hey!”

“So we’re doing it?”

“We’ll need someone first. Hmmm… Then who could be that lucky fella… Hunter?”

“He’s pretty useful.” Val sipped his apple juice.

“You’re right. Morningstar?”

“Alastor? Caring about Morningstar eating shit? That’s a laugh. Also that guy is no joke. He can fuck us.”

“I meant the spoiled Princess.”

“Same ending. And don’t even RECOMMEND Nifty freak, Val.”

“Why would I?!”

“Who else, who else…” Vox tapped his chin, then his face lit up. “Aha! How about *Angel’s surname*? He is-“

“No.” Adam was listening them half ears until now, but he heard that surname loud and clear. And he didn’t like that it was being mentioned on their murder table.

“No, what?” Vox spoke, half annoyed-half angry. Adam would be dead fucking meat (in social life, probably) if he wasn’t at the same status as them.

“No, you are not touching him. I may not be a part of your twisted shit, but you will not be bringing him into this.”

“Oh, you’re letting Alastor humiliate us? Only for a street whore?” Vox’s voice took a more threatening turn. The other did not care the slightest.

“Does Alastor look like he cares for anyone to you? Please.”

“Pssh. It’s still a great way to get him to be left alone. You really need to let go of your stupid weakness for that slut.”

“I don’t plan to. And, I think if you want to keep your rep safe here, you really need to stop telling me what to do.”

“Fine, fine. God. Why are you this sensitive about him anyway?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Whatever. How about we..”

They kept their blood conversation going but Adam wasn’t listening anymore. His mind took him to a complete different moment. A pretty meaningless memory from his past, nothing much.

Adam wrinkled his nose as he took out a dead mouse from his bag. Cliché much, huh? It didn’t scare him, only disgusting a bit. He threw it away and returned to his food.

“Hey, is anyone sitting here?” A cheerful voice spoke. Adam lifted his head up.

A blonde boy he didn’t knew had picked this table to sit. What a wrong move.

“No?”

“Theen.. Can I?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“Sure.”

“Thank you!” He exclaimed happily and sat down.

“Why did you chose to sit here in all places?” Maybe he should warn him.

“I don’t know. The other tables scared me, they are too loud! And you seem nice.”

Yep. He was definitely a new student.

“Okay.”

“What’s your name?”

“Adam.”

“Nice name. Mine’s actually Antonio, but Dad said it’s Anthony now. When we moved here. Which is fine, I love Anthony. Use the one you like.”

“Ok-kay…” Adam wondered where he came from but couldn’t bring himself to ask. He thought of warning him for a second time but his thoughts were interrupted.

“Sorry, I talked too much right? My brother usually says this. Not like he loves anyone talking though. He’s boring. Mom says he’s lot like my father. Do you have any siblings?“

“I don’t.”

“I wish I didn’t too. I bet it must be amazing. But I would miss my twin sister, she gets a pass. I’d still be fine without my brother.”

“Why aren’t you sitting with her then?” God this boy was right, he talked too much and too fast it overwhelmed Adam’s brain.

Anthony bit his lip. “Dad said she’ll be in a different school. I don’t know why. He often makes weird decisions, it only makes both me and Molly sad.”

“Hm.” What else could Adam say? He was used to having nobody with him in this state.

I should definitely get him to go away.

“Sorry! I don’t realize it when I talk too much.”

“I don’t mind it.” Adam looked around. It should’ve been happening by now. “Listen-“

“You don’t?!”

“Yes but-“

A fit of giggles and laughs came from behind. Adam didn’t have to look to see who they were. Usual girl group, on their daily torture visit for Adam. How were they this sneaky?

“You found someone from your kind, Kadmon? From the trash can?”

“Go away!” He yelled.

“Okay weirdo! Have fun with your stupid Italian friend!” They walked off. Huh. It was quick. Adam returned to the now confused boy.

“Look, uh, Anthony. You should go.”

“What? Why?”

Adam rolled his eyes. Was he dumb?

“Trust me you wouldn’t want to be seen as my friend in here.”

“By who? Is that- Ooh.” It finally clicked in him. “Is that why you are sitting alone?”

“I-“

“Well I’m staying anyway.” He shrugged.

“Wait, what?” Adam was caught off guard by this.

“You said it was okay for me to talk! Barely anyone I know thinks like this! And I’m not letting go of someone who did, thank you.”

“Huh? I didn’t-“

A hand was pressed on his face, covering it slightly with mashed potatoes. “You already said it!”

“Hey!” He slapped his hand away, annoyed.

“Why are you this dead serious! Relax!” He giggled and went back to his seat.

“Oh, this is funny?” He threw a spoonful of broccolis at him. And couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped away when Anthony was absolutely disgusted by them.

“You’re laughing though!”

Adam was brought back to the present day. He shook his head, trying to focus on nothing but the meal infront of him.

————

I wrote this at 3 am sorry if some parts are stupid af.

[keep-the-wolves-close]

Steady Heart

Chapter 24: when the party’s over

* Pairing: Slow-burn Kayce Dutton x OFC Stella Daniels

* Rating: M

* Warnings: language, angst

* Word count: 2,043ish

I would love to give credits to @dameronscopilot and @deanscroissant for being sounding boards for me during this whole process, giving outsider insight, being cheerleaders, and allowing me to screech at them about things that have happened during the writing process. I seriously couldn't have gotten this far without y'all!

Author's note: Ugh this fall out is killing me! I hope you’re all enjoying still! This chapter is kind of filler, and shorter than usual, but some important things do occur.

I’m posting this early because one, I’m impatient, and two it was a present to myself for finishing up a couple chapters today lol.

Stella sat on Abigail waiting to help move the herd. She was annoyed she was there and in the presence of her latest case of idiocy, but helping out with the cattle came with the territory. She couldn’t avoid doing her job, especially when there wasn’t much training to be done at the current moment. She spotted Kayce up on the hill talking to his dad. It looked like he was having an existential crisis. An unsympathetic laugh blew out her nose. ‘Not my problem.’

Kayce descended the hill and centered himself in front of everyone. He locked onto Stella, who disregarded his gaze. She stared at the back of Abigail’s head in between her ears. Kayce felt eyes burning into him and found Ryan glaring daggers at him. He looked down and cleared his throat before looking back up. “Take the cows up to pasture nine. Go through the east canyon and up the fire road. Any questions?”

“There’s no gate along the fire road. We’d have to cut the fence.” Ryan pushed back, not so subtly letting Kayce know he was pissed.

Kayce nodded. “Yeah, exactly. Then we’ll fix it.”

“We push ‘em across the river and we could follow the creek —,” Colby tried to form a plan, but Ryan interrupted.

“— then we’d have to swim 100 cattle across the river.”

“Cows can swim.” Stella reminded her brother tentatively. “So can our horses. So can we.” She and Colby made a face at him.

“Hey I can’t. I don’t know how to swim, man.” Jimmy admitted.

Stella slouched back in her saddle and watched the guys argue amongst themselves. She wasn’t offering anything up to anyone. They obviously didn’t want to listen, and that wasn’t her problem. There was also the fact that she didn’t want to go hard defending Kayce’s plan. She had found her lane the hard way. That’s where she would stay. She tried once and that was enough. Reaching her hand forward she patted Abigail. She was going to keep her head down to the task at hand.

Rip shouted. “Do you know how to shut the fuck up? He didn’t ask you your opinion. He asked if there was any questions, and they’re ain’t! Now get your asses out in that field and start movin’ them cows up the canyon like he told you. Go on.”

Stella and the guys turned their horses and moved to the gate to the main pasture. Ryan pushed past her on BJ causing Abigail to squeal. “Knock it off Ryan!”

“Seniority, Stella.” He retorted back at her. She huffed at her brother’s antics and looked behind him.

Rip sidled his gelding up next to Kayce. “You ask them questions, Kayce, questions will never stop. You tell me what you need and I’ll take care of it, they won’t question me.”

“Well you said they need to respect me.”

“You let me handle the wranglers and you’ll have both. That’s my job.”

“All right, well, when we get ‘em up to pasture nine, you choose the way.”

“I don’t choose the way. Make sure no one questions yours.”

Kayce brought up the rear to the gate as Lloyd was closing it. The older wrangler stared him down. “You were a hand long enough. You know who to talk to.”

“Just tryin’ to do it different.”

“Different never works.”

The trek up to pasture nine was uneventful. She was running drag with Lloyd. The task allowed her brain to concentrate on something else and not think about every stupid thing that had occurred in the last week. She had gotten in way over her head and blinded by her laughable feelings. ‘How could you be such an idiot? He’s fucking married. You literally signed up for that spot like a mare in flaming heat.’ Her grip tightened around her reins.

Lloyd gave her a sidelong glance. “Roll that choke back in them reins, lil’ bit. She needs to have range of motion. You know better.”

Stella sat up straight and relaxed her hands. “Sorry Lloyd. Got caught in my head.”

“You’ve been quieter than normal. Somethin’ wrong?”

She pulled her lips together. “I mean, yeah, but I’ll be fine. Just gotta get through the rough part first.”

“What happened? Are you okay?”

Hearing those words from the man she considered a father almost made her tear up. She forced herself not to because of the dust flying around. She didn’t need mud to form on her face. They locked eyes for a brief second and that was all Lloyd needed to see. The look of dejection and embarrassment flashed in her eyes. He knew the look of heartbreak and disappointment on her, probably better than she did.

“We’ll get through it, you and I. Just focus on gettin’ these cattle run.”

“I don’t know if you’d be saying that if you knew what happened.” He tilted his head as if he was asking her to go on. She shifted in her saddle and took the plunge. “I became the other woman.”

His mind quickly went to Kayce. “Stella, you didn’t?”

She shrunk down. “Unfortunately I was an idiot.” She looked ahead to the cattle. She couldn’t bear to see the disappointment and disgust on Lloyd’s face.

Lloyd blinked slowly, coming to terms with what she had told him. Everyone knew she held a torch for John’s boy, but when he got married they thought that would be the end of it. Clearly they had all been wrong. He had so many questions, but he didn’t even know where to begin.

“Don’t worry. It’s over. Just trying to do my job and go home, Lloyd.” Stella cut Abigail out to the left to push the cattle over some. They had started to spread out further than she had liked. Back to business.

They made it back with only a little hiccup of the fence needing repaired first.

Stella ran into Ryan coming out of the bunkhouse. “Hey, where are you headed?”

“To give your affair a job.” Ryan sent a dig at her.

“I put an end to it.”

“Yeah. Whatever Stella.” He finished, leaving her standing there with her mouth hanging open.

Kayce walked into the downtown office where his dad’s office for livestock commissioner was situated. He said hello to a few people, took a deep breath, and pushed his way into the room.

“Ready to fingerprint scan?” Handon asked.

“I got it.” Ryan made a face at his fellow agent. “Place your fingers flat on that device.”

“Can I see your driver’s license please?” Handon interrupted.

John launched into an explanation. “To be an agent, you gotta go to the police academy first. We can drag that out for a bit, but you can’t hold my office without the badge.”

“I don’t want your office.” Kayce declined.

John laughed. “Well you can’t have it for about 15 years. It’ll take ya that long to earn everyone’s trust. Understand, Kayce, this office is how you protect the ranch. And every ranch like it.” John pointed to Handon. “Put it on speaker.”

“Sure.”

“We're about to find out how big a role you play in this family, son.” John said.

The phone clicked when the other side picked up. “NCIC.”

“Yeah this is agent Handon, Montana Livestock Association.”

“Authorization number?”

“Mike Tango Lima Alpha 139259.”

“Name?”

“Dutton, Kayce John, date of birth 4/24/90, drivers license number MT 83745820382.”

“Dutton, Kayce John. No priors, no outstanding.”

“Thank you.” Handon hung up.

“Miracles never cease.” John stood up and removed his hat.

“Well, he’s cleared for a ride-along, sir.” Handon offered John.

“Let’s get him started next week.”

Kayce put his hands on his hips. “Can I talk to you alone for a second?”

“Give us a minute.” John shooed Handon and Ryan. They get up and leave quickly. John rested back on his desk.

“I don’t know about this, dad. There’s just so many things that could go wrong.”

John held out his hand to pause his son. “Kayce, woah woah. You just let me worry about that.”

Kayce propped his arms in the back of the chair in front of him. “I can’t pass a polygraph test.”

“Well, you won’t have to.”

“Well what about a psych eval?” Kayce tried to find every outlet he could.

“Well you won’t have to take one of those either.”

When all of his escape plans didn’t follow through, he heaved a sigh. “I gotta go.”

“Kayce? What makes you think you wouldn’t pass a psych evaluation?”

He held onto the door and said, “my whole life.”

Kayce exited his father’s office. He proceeded through the front door of the building and went out onto the sidewalk. He pulled a small slip of paper out of his back pocket. It had Monica’s new apartment address on it. He had to go find her and figure some things out.

He walked along the pavement of downtown and came up to building 73 Chateau Normandie. Glancing down at the paper to double check himself, he took the stairs two at a time. The hallway was quiet as he wandered through looking for Monica’s apartment number.

He reached the end of the hallway and the door he was searching for was on his right. He lifted his hand and knocked a few times. It opened and there his wife stood, looking beautiful as ever and surprised.

“Hey,” she said softly.

“How you doin’?” Kayce felt like a teenager again. Stella flashed through his mind and he sobered.

“You know. You wanna come in?” Monica pulled the door open wider.

“Yeah, sure.”

They stepped into the apartment and the air was thick. The elephant in the room needed to be addressed, but neither of them knew how to approach it.

“You recovered?” Kayce asked.

“Getting there.” Monica crossed her arms.

“It looks like a home in here.”

“Yeah, I try.” Monica chuckled.

“Seems kinda permanent.” Kayce pointed out, testing the waters to see where his wife’s judgment stood.

“It’s an apartment, Kayce, it’s a place to,” Monica stopped. “You want any water or anything?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Kayce trailed behind her to the kitchen area.

“Heard you were workin’ for your father now, huh?”

“Yeah, I just —,” Tate interrupted him.

“Daddy!”

“Hey, bud.” Kayce hugged him tight. He missed him something fierce.

Tate asked him excitedly. “Wanna see my new room?”

“Yeah, sure buddy.”

“It’s over here.”

Tate led his father down the hallway and Monica listened from a distance. She leaned against the wall and dropped her head back. Tears blurred her vision. She hated this. She hated being apart from Kayce, but he’d proven time and time again his father’s pull on him was stronger than he’d like to admit. She had to keep their son safe from that. She walked to the mirror to wipe her eyes before Kayce came back.

Kayce walked back down the hallway and around the corner. “How you affordin’ all of this?”

“Uh, university gives us a spending allowance. So I spent it on all of this instead of moving. All our furniture was old and someone else’s.”

“I know it’s not much, but—,” Monica interrupted curtly.

“We’re fine.”

“Please.” Kayce huffed. “I don’t know how to do this Monica. I don’t know how to not be with you. Or not talk to you. You’re my wife. You’re my best friend. You’re my only friend.”

“You’re mine too Kayce, but you also have Stella.”

“This isn’t about her.”

“But something had to change. And instead of changing, you’re just, you’re working for your father. And it probably should be about her as well. I’m sure you ran straight into her arms the second you got home.”

“Well you told me to leave!”

“Yeah everyone keeps telling you to leave and you keep doing it! What you’re supposed to do is fight for the life you want.”

“That’s not what you asked me to do!”

“Stop it!” Tate screamed over top of his parents.

Kayce and Monica glared at each other. “You asked me to leave, Monica. You wanted somethin’ different, you should have asked for something different.” He said resolutely. He walked past Tate and patted his head as he stormed out the door.

[otterandterrierwrites]

How about

33

19

14

14 Days of Scoundress 2024 ♥ February 13th

Making amends

‘I don't know what you want me to tell you, Han, you know I’m busy—I need to get this done today.’

She barely looked up at Han when she spoke, which more or less confirmed what he feared. Still, he persevered.

‘C’mon, you’re sayin’ you can’t take some time to have lunch with me? The galaxy ain’t gonna be saved in ten minutes, Leia.’

Her jaw tightened in clear annoyance. 

‘You know lunch doesn’t take ten minutes. A protein bar does, which I have right here,’ Leia said, patting her desk drawer.

‘Sweetheart,’ he tried in a softer tone, leaning back on her desk, ‘you’ve been livin’ out of those things for the past week. You need a proper meal, and to get outta here for a bit. I’ve barely even seen you home. What do I gotta do, make an appointment with your secretary?’

Leia slammed her stylus down on her desk, eyes flashing up at him under a frown.

‘I’m really sorry I can’t prioritize being your girlfriend the week before we’re supposed to put war criminals on trial, Han,’ she told him, her voice like burning ice. ‘I thought you’d understand more than anyone that I might not be able to do a dinner date—’

‘You don’t have to patronize me.’

‘Oh, I’m patronizing you?’ she hissed, an effort to keep her voice from spilling out of her office. ‘I think I don’t need you to take care of myself!’

Han grit his teeth. 

‘No, ‘course you don’t, what was I thinking. You’re perfectly capable of lookin’ after yourself. I’m sure you even find time to brush your teeth if you put it down on your calendar.’ He knocked down on her desk. ‘I’ll get out of your hair now, Your Highness.’

He stormed out of her office without looking back. There were often a million and one things on Leia’s plate, and people still believed they could fit in a million and two, so she did, too. Han remembered that Leia well: for three years, he’d watched as she wrapped herself up in her work so nothing and nobody could get through, convinced that she could work herself to the bone and still keep going. Rebuffing, then grudgingly accepting Han’s attempts to keep her alive as a person, not just a cog in a war machine. So he wasn’t hurt by her words—he was worried. He hadn’t seen that Leia in a long time. And he understood that the trials would be the one thing to bring her back out, but—he didn’t have to like it.

For now, he figured he’d give her some space, and hope that she came around in her own time.

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

Leia found Han catching up on the Agrilat swoop races at home. After he’d left her office earlier in the day, she had stewed in her annoyance as she worked, blaming him for the distraction that would slow her down. As evening fell, she’d felt depleted. Her brain had replayed every one of her words to him—words he hadn’t deserved. She’d suddenly felt like she was back in the war, staving off feeling with action. The trials hadn’t even started yet, and she was already letting them take their toll on her and her relationship, just so she didn’t have to face all the emotions they were bringing up.

She wasn’t the same person she was during the war, though. Didn’t want to be. That person had been too angry and scared of ever feeling a pain as big as Alderaan again, so instead, she’d tried to numb herself down. If it hadn’t been for Han, maybe she would have succeeded. This time, it was on her to make the choice to break out of her shell.

Han looked over his shoulder at the sound of the front door opening, then turned off the viewscreen and waited as she sat down next to him on the sofa, tucking her feet under her.

‘I’m sorry,’ she started. ‘I do need you, it turns out. It’s just been so… so…’

‘I know,’ Han interrupted her, saving her from having to put all the overwhelm she’d been feeling into words. ‘But you don’t have to let it kill you. Don’t let ‘em have that kind of power over you.’

Nodding, Leia leaned forward, sealing their reconciliation with a kiss. Han wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his lap, and she settled in comfortably, fingers threading through his hair as she tilted his head back and deepened the kiss.

‘Do you have to go back to work tonight?’ Han asked, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the length of her body as he trailed his fingers down her throat. ‘Or can I request Her Senatorship’s presence for a meeting about stress relief?’

‘Mm… that wasn’t on my itinerary today,’ Leia told him, pulling his bottom lip lightly between her teeth. ‘But… yes, I think I can fit you in, hotshot.’

******* Prompts:

33: as an apology

19: “That wasn’t in my itinerary today.”

14 swapped for 15: [bite] a playful kiss that involves some light biting

[bamboozledbird]

IGNITE: A Teen Wolf S1 AU (Reader's Version) // Prev. / Chapter 3 / Next

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, omc, ofc Pairing: Eventual Stiles x Reader, but man are we talking slow burn Word Count: 6.2k Warnings: Canon typical gore/violence, parental death (rip to your fake mom), depictions of depression (apathy, dissociation, 'numb little bug' vibes) Tags: Canon has been lovingly scrapped for parts, author is a chaotic bi and it shows, prolific overuse of the em dash, the slowest of burns i fear

Summary: You can always smell ash long after the fire is gone. Perhaps, that’s why you still can’t breathe without choking on the past. It’s been four years since your mom died. Four years since she burned alive. Four years since you didn’t. You survived, but they must have buried your heart with her because most days you feel like a shadow, some horrifically sad creature caught halfway between a ghost and a lamb for slaughter. 

You can’t scrub the bitter smell of hospital from your memories, not even with denial. Maybe, that’s why death and disease follows Stiles wherever he goes now. It’s been eight years since his mom died. Eight years since he didn’t. Eight years since he decided that he wouldn’t let anyone he loved die ever again. He survived, but Scott’s new-found abilities and the murky world they’ve been dragged into is making it pretty damn hard to keep his promise. 

Time never stops turning. The grief never dissipates. Children soldier on—but in a town where all the monsters under the bed are real and old family skeletons rattle in every closet, how long can two fragile, breakable humans survive? 

Maybe, the real question is: How long will they want to? Chapter Summary: More information about the animal attack comes to light. You can’t decide if you're more scared of the monster or becoming friends with someone new. 

A/N: You can also check me out on ao3 (dork_knight) for the full lore version!

You were surprised to see your dad’s car in the garage. He wasn’t supposed to be off work for hours, and he certainly never came home early on weekdays. You would be more nervous if there was anyone left in your life to grieve. It was just the two of you now. Your mom hadn’t ever talked about her family; you weren't even sure if she ever had one, and Grandma and Papa Dickinson died before you even had the chance to remember them. You wished, sometimes, that there was someone else in the house. Someone who could fill the cold silence and closed doors. Someone who might chase away the ghosts lingering in the long halls and photographs on the walls. It was a futile dream. You were going to die in this house, and someday a new family would chase your family’s shadows away with laughter.

You felt a bittersweet sense of déjà vu when you walked into the house and saw your dad sitting at the kitchen table. The kitchen was his spot before everything went wrong. He puttered around the island in the mornings with his thermos of coffee and tablet, somehow knowing exactly when to flip the bubbling pancakes on the griddle without glancing up from whatever NPR article he was reading. He only looked up from the screen to kiss your mom on the cheek and give you a side-squeeze until you whined about your inability to breathe. 

That was a long time ago, you reminded yourself as your dad looked up from his iPad. It’d been four years, but he still hadn’t quite figured out how to hug you and the kitchen never smelled like pancakes and cinnamon syrup anymore. “How was school?” your dad finally said after a long moment of uneasy eye-contact. 

Your brow wrinkled, and your head canted slightly, “You really want to talk about my day?”

“Of course,” your dad paused and rubbed his hands over his face, “but there is something important I wanted to talk to you about.” His stubble had grown out enough that you could see where the brown was starting to gray. He looked so old for a moment, and you weren't quite sure how to feel. You never did around him. 

Frowning, you sat down in the chair across from him, “Did someone die?”

“No,” your dad quickly replied, and then he sighed, “well, yes.” He set his iPad to the side and took his thick reading glasses off, “You know about the animal attacks.” It wasn’t a question. You figured that was how this would go; it was easier to pretend you didn’t exist if he monologued to the spot on the wall just over your shoulder. “Sheriff Stilinski and I agree that a curfew is the best course of action, considering the situation we’re in.”

Best course of action. You chewed on what was left of your nails and resisted the sigh budding in your chest. So, this was a council meeting too. You just didn’t get a vote. “Okay.” 

“Okay.” Your dad blinked a few times and rubbed at his jaw, like he’d been expecting you to fight him on it. Most of the fight fizzled out in you a long time ago; it was just easier to pretend. You got that from him, you thought. You inherited your dad’s love for mystery novels and his ability to deny reality straight to its face, and that was where the similarity ended. Your face, your skin, your heart—your exhausting curiosity—that was all your mom. It must be why your dad couldn’t keep his gaze on you for long. He ran his fingers through his short crop of dark hair and said, “Anyone under the age of 18 needs to be home by 9:00 every night.” 

“Fine.” It wasn’t like you had much of a social life anyway, and the curio shop you worked for closed long before dark. “So,” you fiddled with the edge of a decorative bamboo placemat that hadn’t seen a plate in years, “do the police have any idea what kind of animal’s going all Pac-Man on people?”

Your dad stared at you for a moment, a deep divot developing above the crooked bridge of his nose. You looked down at your hands and mumbled, “The vampire Pomeranian, not the wimpyass circle.”

His mouth tugged a little, and you would’ve sworn he was fighting a smile if everything else in the world didn’t directly contradict the theory. “Not exactly.”

“Which means…” you shook your head a little and tugged your fingers through your unruly hair, grimacing a bit as they snagged on a few knots where your hair had frizzed together, “they’ve ruled out tiny bloodsucking dogs, or they’ve narrowed it down to a few probable options?” 

He paused for a long moment, and you pulled your shins to your chest, focusing on the tips of your sneakers hanging off the edge of the wooden seat. You turned your cheek into your kneecaps and waited for your dad to make an excuse and leave. You’d pushed. You always had to push. 

“There were wolf fibers on the girl.”

You whipped your head up from your knees, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted. You were a little embarrassed that you were more stunned by your dad sharing confidential information with you than a wolf migrating to central California for the first time in over a hundred years. “And the bus driver?”

“He’s still…unresponsive. Stilinski is looking into the possibility that he was attacked by the same animal.” 

“Huh,” you said quietly, eyes glazing over as you considered the possibility.

“Regardless, you need to be home before dark until they catch the damn thing,” he leaned back against his chair, tipping his head back with his bottle of Miller High life. The golden liquid sloshed back and forth with the strength of his swallow. It was the first time you’d seen him drink since the funeral, but you knew about the empty bottles he threw away in the trash outside. Over the years, the number varied; you noticed a significant increase around anniversaries, birthdays, and Christmas. You left extra take-out in the fridge during those weeks, always his favorites, and they were gone in the morning. You twisted the pendant on your necklace and made a note to order Little India’s tandoori chicken after your shift.

“I have to work tonight.” You said quietly, nibbling the bed of your thumbnail, “I’m off at 8:00.” 

You both dreaded and longed for your boss’s absurd take on the situation—though boss wasn’t quite the right word for Maggie Sinclair. Despite the fact that she owned Curio Killed the Cat and approved your paychecks, Maggie was the least authoritative person you knew. You’d say Mags was like an older sister, but older sisters generally didn’t require so much supervision around open flames and sangria—and anything else sparkling enough to distract her sporadic focus. Your mom used to look out for her before she died; you supposed Maggie was just another thing you inherited from her. Your favorite thing probably, but that was something you’d most likely take to your grave.

Your dad’s face went blank for a moment, as it always did when he was reminded of anything remotely related to your mom. It was easier for him, you thought, to pretend that she never existed. You couldn’t even be bitter about it; you hadn’t even cried at the funeral. You cried much later, of course, but by then the pity well had run dry. Nobody cared how you coped, so long as you coped quickly. You’d wasted those precious first few months of constant consolations with numbness, with monotonous, 'Thank you,’s and, 'It’s sad, but I’m okay,'s and then, eventually, everyone stopped asking if you were okay. Time passed. You didn’t touch any of the casseroles in the fridge. People moved on. You lived in the wake and pushed people away with an acrid bite that would disappoint the resurrection right out of your mother. Your dad was just coping. You both were. 

“Right,” he cleared his throat, “come straight home after.”

You shouldered your backpack and stood up, “Always do.”

You still didn’t know how Maggie met your mom, given the 15-year age gap and their vastly different…everything, but Maggie had been in your life for as long as you could remember. You spent so much time in Maggie’s store after your mom died that you figured you might as well get paid for shelving spell books and grimoires while you were there—even if you did think that most of Maggie’s customers were totally off their rocker. Of course, in-person customers were a rare oddity in Curio Killed the Cat.

The store was always slow on weekdays, weekends too actually. Most of Maggie’s business was online; she shipped ‘haunted’ and ‘magical’ artifacts all across the globe to e-goths with bad backs and Wicca wannabes. Truthfully, Maggie didn’t really need your help running the storefront, but she claimed she enjoyed the company—even if said company was bitterly sarcastic and hypercritical of the product she was stocking. 

“Hey, Mags,” you called. The bell on the front door tinkled in the background as you shoved it open with your shoulder. You paused to scratch under Maggie’s ancient tabby’s chin until he let out a sawing purr. You weren't exactly sure how old Gizmo was, but he behaved more like the taxidermied animals on the walls than the stray cats that lived in the small alley behind the store. 

“Maggie’s head popped up from the circle of book-stack pillars surrounding her. A few of her black curls frizzed out from her bun like a chaotic springy bow and her sweater swallowed her whole despite the relatively warm evening. “Babe,” Maggie placed her hands on your shoulders and grinned at you with a little too much teeth, “thorn in my side, light of my life.”

You lifted the large pair of acrylic glasses from Maggie’s nest of curls and then slipped them over her rounded nose with a reluctant sigh, “What?”

“Glasses. That was next on the agenda.” Maggie blinked owlishly behind her lenses as her eyes adjusted, and then they lit up with whatever it was she’d miraculously remembered, “I am so delighted to see you.”

“It’s Monday.” Gizmo curled around your leg and meowed pathetically until you bent down and lifted him onto you shoulder, “I work Mondays.”

Maggie rolled her eyes, “I’m aware; I made the schedule. The Concerta isn’t completely defective.”

You grinned a little, and Gizmo kneaded your chest in agreement, “So: You’re delighted to see me.”

Nodding rapidly, Maggie picked up a lavishly bound book from one of the stacks of new inventory. It was so tall that it reached her chin, and there were four more just like it in the back. “I need these stocked for realsies,” Maggie said, blowing off the thin layer of dust that had started to gather on the cover. She dropped the book back on top of the pile with a loud thump and carefully avoided knocking anything over on her way to the front of the store, “And I’m currently in the middle of a bidding war.”

“Haunted or historical?” you grabbed the clunky price gun off of the tarot card display.

“A little of both actually,” Maggie hummed, fiercely focused on the computer screen. Her nose was almost smashed against the monitor.

You set Gizmo down on the floor, patting his head tenderly when he let out a disgruntled whine and clawed at your thin knee socks. Eventually, the effort became too much for his poor paws to bear, and he waddled off towards one of his many nesting spots. “For you or for the store?” you pulled the stepladder away from the wall of stone runes and protection charms and plopped yourself down on the top step.

“For you, actually,” Maggie grinned a little and winked, “don’t say I never gave ya’ nothing.”

“Wonderful,” you dropped your chin into your cupped hands, “a poltergeist bonus.”

Maggie huffed and shoved the sleeves of her hand-knitted cardigan up to her elbows, “It’s not actually haunted. Not really. It’s like…a spirit router, basically. Whatever. It’ll make me feel better about you walking around with a rabid Cujo on the loose.”

“Aw,” you smirked good-naturedly and slapped a price tag on a book entitled ‘Heal the Witch Wound Inside’—$35.99, and for what? You were too amused to point out the redundancy of rabid Cujo. “You got me a guardian angel.”

“Trying to,” Maggie corrected her under her breath, “but MagikMike9917 is a persistent little bitch.”

You laughed and slid ‘Witch Wound’ into the self-help section, “Just get me a mini-taser; they come in some real cute cases now.”

“Mhm.” Maggie briefly glanced over in your direction and then abruptly whirled her head back towards the thick book in your hands, “Not that one.”

You narrowed your gaze as you examined the cover of the book more closely. You had to admit, it was beautiful. The leather was a deep burgundy, and the spine was hand stitched together with gold thread—but it was the carving on the front that really caught your attention. There were two wolves etched into the leather. Their howling snouts pointed towards the full moon above their heads, and their tails entwined around the roots of a large tree sprouting into the sky. Ornate symbols framed the borders of the scene, and a few scattered jewels glinted in the light. It must have taken at least a week to finish. 

You held up the book, your brow curved into a high arch, “This for me too? ‘Cause I’ve already seen The Witcher; pretty sure I got the gist.”

Rolling her eyes, Maggie reached blindly for her soup mug of passionflower and mugwort tea. The smell of it was truly rank, but you had grown accustomed to the musky bitterness over the years. “That one’s already sold. They should be dropping by to pick it up anytime now.” She raised her cup towards you, “I told you bestiaries are essential reading.”

“For dungeon masters, maybe,” you hummed as you studied the cover again. The red and citrine jewels in the wolves’ eyes seemed to be winking at you when the light hit them at the just right angle. 

“Which is an essential contribution to society,” Maggie punctuated her sentence with a loud slurp. 

Your lips gave way to a small grin as you set the book to the side. You’d stocked around half the stacks of books when the front door chimed for the first time since your shift started. You looked towards the door and squinted at the increasingly familiar smattering of freckles and moles, “Are you stalking me now? I will tell your dad; I’m not above snitching or stitches.” 

Stiles blinked a few times and then shook his head, holding up his hands, “I swear on my jeep this time it’s a coincidence. I ordered something here like a week ago.”

You folded your arms over your chest, “And your jeep is sacred, is it?”

Stiles nodded solemnly and rested his hand over his chest, “The sacredest.” 

If the muttered cursing and aggressive sipping was anything to go by, Maggie was too busy with her eBay war to be of any help with inventory. Stocking would have to wait. You stood up and glanced over Stiles’s shoulder, “Where’s your sidekick?”

Stiles squeezed one eye almost completely shut and looked off into the void with the other until realization dawned over his face, “You mean Scott?” He snorted and shot you a grin that was loaded with self-pity, “I’m usually the sidekick reference. Always, actually.” 

You nodded and looked down, searching for the culprit of the little head butting into your shin. Gizmo was probably the most ineffective, geriatric guard dog in the entire animal kingdom, but you appreciated the effort. You scooped him up into your arms so that he could better inspect the strange boy who’d invaded his den and nuzzled your nose against the black stripe on top of his head. “They do tend to never shut up.” 

Stiles looked like he wanted to argue—a frequent expression of you were beginning to realize—and then his shoulders slumped in defeat, “Holy shit, I’ve been type-casted.”

“You could do an arthouse film,” you tilted your head, “show people you’ve got range.”

Stiles nodded, considering the idea, “My charming wit and boyish good looks are really holding me back.” He stooped down to scratch behind Gizmo’s ears. Gizmo bristled for a moment, eyeing his hand suspiciously, but he eventually flopped back in your arms after a few curious sniffs. “No one takes me seriously.”

“Uh huh.” You watched Stiles pet Gizmo and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, trying to remember the last man Gizmo hadn’t bit. You couldn’t recall a single one. Warmth enveloped your face when Stiles looked up and met your gaze. He didn’t appear to think much of it, just turned his eyes towards the ground and stroked Gizmo’s little gray toes. 

You set Giz down, despite his pathetic protests, and turned towards the stockpile of inventory, fighting the urge to bite your nails to the quick, “So, what’d you order, boy wonder?” You looked over your shoulder when Stiles didn’t answer. He was smiling a little, mostly to himself, with his hands shoved in his pockets. Your brows quirked, “What?”

“Nothing.” He groaned a little when you kept looking at him, your brows still cocked, and then shrugged with his hands still fisted in his jacket pockets, “It’s just not so bad, the sidekick thing. It’s not so pathetic when you say it like that.”

You swallowed, a little startled by his honesty even though you were the one who’d insisted upon it. “Order?”

“Right,” he nodded a few times and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s a thickass book, wolves on the front, about yea big,” Stiles held his palms almost six inches apart from each other. “Please don’t make me say the name; I’m pretty sure it’s Latin.”

You grabbed the bestiary you’d set aside earlier and looked at the cover again; there was a small inscription just below the tree roots. “It’s Greek, actually.” You brushed your fingers over the indented letters, “φυσιολόγος.”

Stiles shook his head and took his frustration out on the air with a dramatic jerk of his hands, “In English?”

“The Naturalist,” your lips curled into a shrewd smile, “so sorry we don’t carry it in Japanese.”

Stiles pursed his lips and snatched the book out of your hands. “Hilarious. Truly. I don’t just watch anime, y’know. I also like…” he trailed off and scratched at the nape of his neck, “very cool, normal things.”

“Such as?” 

He pulled a face that was distinctly reminiscent of a little kid sticking their tongue out, “Such as shut your face.”

“Wow.” Shaking your head, you returned to your task of shelving books—this one was about the spiritual properties of mushrooms—and made a popping noise with your tongue against the top of your mouth, “You better hope there’s an English translation in there ‘cause consider my mouth officially shut.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Stiles continued quickly, words almost overlapping with the speed of his tongue, before you could take advantage of such low-hanging fruit, “I made sure I could read it before I bought it—being comprehensible is literally the least it can do for 50 bucks plus shipping.” He shook his head and held up the book, “Can you believe the library wouldn’t order it for me?”

“Imagine that,” you chided, “and with all the demand for vintage bestiaries too.”

He dropped his order on top of a rickety writing desk that supposedly belonged to a Beacon Hills’ heretic who died in the 1800s—at least, according to the tag hanging from one of the drawers and Maggie’s generous interpretation of her family history. “D&D is coming back in a big, big way,” Stiles pointed at you and winked with obnoxious flourish, “just you wait.”

You smirked, pointedly ignoring your recurrent childhood obsession with Egyptian and Roman mythology, and smacked the side of the price gun until the sticker tape unjammed, “My instinct is to make fun of you, but I’m afraid the hypocrisy will catch up with me.”

“What?” Stiles glanced around the store and smirked, “Are you one of those new-agey astrology, crystal nerds? How many fingers is my aura holding up right now?”

You gave him a flat look and reached for another book. “We don’t sell crystals, actually. They aren’t that common in ritualistic spell-casting.”

Stiles blinked slowly, “You’re joking.”

“Wish I was.” You still weren't entirely sure if Maggie actually believed in all this spiritualist-mythical bullshit. She contradicted herself constantly, and often said things just to make your face pinch in disbelief, but at the same time she still insisted that you keep a protection charm bundle under your bed. The smell of the divination tea, at the very least, was great at warding off unwanted chitchat. “Animal blood is the main ingredient in most of ‘em.”

“That’s…repulsive,” Stiles cringed, restless fingers meandering towards the shelves of books next to you. He pulled out a small illuminated grimoire and flipped through the yellowing pages, pulling a face every so often at some of the more unsavory hex materials. 

You pried the book from his fingers and slid it back into its correct slot. Maggie didn’t actually ask you to organize them; her exact words were, ‘Slap a sticker on ‘em and stick ‘em on a shelf,’ but the idea of such a chaotic setup haunted you until you finally reshelved them all with a revised, occult-specific Dewey Decimal System. “It’s actually just corn syrup and—”

“100% authentic dove juice,” Maggie interrupted from behind the front counter without removing her face from her monitor.

Stiles jerked his head to the side, evidently just realizing that there was someone else in the room with you, and then swiveled back to you with his face stretched out in a toothy grin, “That dove juice discount must save you, like, so much money.”

You watched Stiles, warily and wearily, reach for a meditation journal from one of the heaps by your legs, “I have to stock that.”

Stiles turned the journal over in his hands, “Lemme help.”

You huffed deeply and gestured to the diligently organized bookshelves, “I have a system.”

He gave a staunch shake of his head and hunched down so that he could read the small stickers on the spines, “I owe you—for covering for me.”

You took the journal from his hands and squatted down to the bottom shelf. You quickly found the guided meditation section and managed to squeeze the bulky notebook between ‘Walking the Pagan Path’ and ‘Warding Your Mind' with some aggressive wiggling. You looked up briefly and met Stiles’s eyeline. He was especially lanky from this angle. Lanky and soft, with his layers of sleeves and rounded features. You tucked a loose curl behind your ear and looked back at the line of jewel-toned spines, “How is he? Scott?”

“Better.” He tapped his fingers against the top of the bookshelf to a rhythmic beat that felt familiar, “Exposure therapy is a real pain in the ass.”

“I thought it was ‘low blood sugar.’”

“That too.” Stiles leaned over your head and grabbed another book, and you shivered the soft cotton hem of his jacket skimmed over your face. “He’s hemophobic and breakfastphobic,” he said as he handed you the book. You hummed softly in appreciation as he continued, “It’s a vicious cycle, actually. Dude would totally fall apart without me.”

“That’s nice.” You tipped your chin up towards him and grinned, “Totally bogus, but still nice.”

“I told you.” His smile was smug, but somehow still dopey enough to be charming, “I’m a nice guy.”

Your thighs started to ache from squatting in the same position for so long, so you dropped onto your knees, shivering as your bare skin pressed against the cold hardwood floor. “I’m still not sharing my sacrificial blood discount with you.”

“Guess I have to get a job here, then,” Stiles shrugged and leaned against the bookcase, jerking back a bit when he turned his head and came face-to-face with a yellow-eyed taxidermied owl. He turned it around until the glass eyes were safely pointed in the opposite direction and said, “That way I can drive you nuts all day long and become a master wizard.”

You clicked your tongue; the cluck rang with saccharinely sweet pity, “Sucks that you’re only qualified for the first part.”

“Yeah? How’d you get the job, then? You clearly don’t respect the craft.” Stiles ran his spindly fingers along a row of spines, and you wondered if he could play the piano. He certainly had the hands for it. 

“Mags knew my mom, so…” you chewed on your lip until the metallic tang of copper burst on the tip of your tongue. You abruptly returned your attention to shelving the Wicca section and fiddled with the spines until they were all perfectly in line with each other, “It’s more nepotism than anything else, but I do take the history books home sometimes.”

Stiles looked at you, and the prickling sensation of being seen started slithering through your nervous system again. It took you a few tries to get Greek and Roman Necromancy to slip into the small gap on the shelf in front of you. Stiles crouched down next to you. His mouth was twisted around a sly smile, but you could see the earnestness in his eyes, “Witch training?”

You grinned a little, grateful for the out, “Hardly. I just like the lore.”

“Yeah,” Stiles’ gaze drifted towards the book he ordered; the wolves’ gleaming eyes were almost hypnotic, “me too.” 

“I’d hope so, for 50 bucks.” you nudged his knee with your elbow, and he swayed precariously on his perched toes and then shot you a glare that lacked any actual malice. ��There are cheaper D&D monster manuals, y’know.”

He snickered and elbowed you in the ribs, gently but his bony limbs were sharp and unforgiving, “I knew you were a nerd.”

You were tempted to rebut the accusation, but he already had far too much evidence to the contrary. At least, he didn’t know about your Data/Geordi fanfiction phase—and no one ever would, you thought darkly. You’d have to kill them, probably, or at the very least flee the country.

“At least I’m not a sucker.” You stood up and brushed off your socks, though there was nothing to be done about the red indentations on your kneecaps from kneeling on oak flooring for so long, “Just how easy would it be to convince you to drop another 50 on a replica Byzantine amulet?”

Stiles held out his hand, shaking it in the air incessantly for far too long. You tilted your head and tried not to smirk at his predicament. The longer you watched him struggle, the more pathetic his pleading became. Eventually, Stiles groaned and pushed himself onto his feet with exaggerated effort, “Obviously not very. Evil spirit didn’t even crack the top 20 on my suspect pool.”

“Got it.” You propped your arm on top of an antique guillotine, bent elbow crooked along the wooden pillory. Stiles stared at the rusted blade and then gawked at your arm. He looked like he was a few seconds away from shoving you out of the way, even though the edge was dull with age and safely secured to the iron frame with thick rope. Rolling your eyes, you stepped away from the antique and trailed your fingers over a less forbidding oddity. 

You spun the brass globe a few times and said, “So silver bullets, then? I’m sure there’s some kind of bulk-discount we can work out.”

Stiles’ eyes snapped to your face, “What?”

“You know,” you gestured towards the order he abandoned while buzzing after you like an especially tenacious mosquito, “for all the werewolves running around town. Thought you’d already know that, being a wannabe wizard n’all.” 

“Right.” Stiles’s jaw shut with a click as he ran his hand over his head, “Duh.” He rubbed at his bicep and swallowed a few times before clearing his throat, “Didn’t get to that chapter yet. Clearly, I’ve got a lot of studying to do before I graduate from apprentice to master.” 

You squinted at him, mulling over if you should call him out on his odd behavior or just chalk it up to his usual weirdness. Maggie materialized behind you before you could do either. She placed her hands on your shoulders, squeezing softly, and then shuffled you to the side so that she could join your little circle, “I’m strictly anti-gun violence; the NRA hates me—but we do carry wolfsbane essence.”

“Don’t say essence,” you grimaced.

“We have some wolfsbane goo in the back.” Maggie pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and pivoted back to you, “Happy?”

“Not even remotely.” You turned towards Stiles, finally grateful for his presence. Usually, you were on your own in your never-ending believer versus non-believer disputes, and Maggie was somehow under the impression that she wasn’t massively outnumbered beyond these four spooky walls. Oddly, Stiles looked lost in thought. The one time you needed his dismissive snark, and he just had to actually consider the opposing side.

“Is this like the dove juice thing?” Stiles watched Maggie’s face closely, astute eyes tracking every minute twitch and flicker in her expression. It was easy to make out all the different pieces of Sheriff Stilinski in his face like this. You could see the calculations running behind his eyes, the strings coming together, the chess pieces moving. The effect was startlingly piercing. “Or is this actually the real deal?”

You stared at him, face scrunched in bewilderment, but Maggie was undeterred, “We only sell the real deal in the back, to the honored few.”

Stiles looked towards you, his right brow raised. You sighed, folding your arms over your chest and flicking your hair over your shoulder, “Real useless, but…yeah. The plants are real I guess.”

Maggie winked, “I’ll even give you the friends and family discount.”

You scoffed, “We aren’t friends.”

Stiles frowned, momentarily distracted from his intense investigation of Maggie’s body language, “We aren’t?”

You licked your rapidly drying lips and shook your head slightly, more confused than indignant. Truth be told, you’d expected him to agree with you. You hadn’t known each other for long, and he seemed to be more interested in your connection to Lydia than forming one with you. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that he wanted to talk to you about anything else. It’d been a long time since anyone wanted to, that’s all. The friends who hugged you at the funeral, they stopped coming around a long time ago, and they still avoided you at school—like you were contagious, like you’d leak radiation and your misery would metastasize in their bone marrow. You still woke up crying sometimes, throat claggy with stubborn shadows, choking on the hollow bones of picked-apart memories—too busy shoveling dirt to consider tomorrow. 

You scratched at your arm absently and rolled your eyes, slowly, so that everyone could see how utterly unaffected you were, “It’s a couple hundred bucks for a few millimeters of emulsified weeds. If we were friends, I wouldn’t even let you buy something so stupid.”

Stiles’s frown quickly curved into a crooked grin, boyishly charming and vexingly sure, “Sounds like that’s exactly what you’re trying to do.”

Maggie reappeared through the door to the back room, locking it with one of the many keys dangling from her strawberry lanyard. You didn’t have a clue when she’d disappeared to begin with, but the vial clutched in her hand was far more interesting. It was filled with a thick purple liquid, so dark it was almost black. Maggie held it out to Stiles and laughed at his inquisitive stare, “It’s on the house this time, ‘cause you’re such good friends with my darlingest girl.”

Eventually, Stiles took the vial from her hand. “Yeah, darling,” Stiles smirked and rolled the vial between his long fingers, “‘cause we’re such good friends.” The liquid sloshed slowly, a little like a lava lamp, and you kind of wanted to stuff it down his throat.

“Careful with that,” Maggie blinked at you behind her thick lenses. She wasn’t grinning or winking. It was a little eerie to see her so still, like her body had been snatched by a pod person and it was trying to mimic casual human behavior. “It's potent stuff. Shish-kebab a were with that, and they’ll be dead by sunrise—humans too, obviously, so please don’t stick it in your mouth.”

“If you can even get that close,” Stiles muttered to himself as he held the vial up to his pinched gaze.

“To a werewolf,” you deadpanned, looking between the two of them, searching their faces for any indication of irony. Bat-shit. Your grand total of two friends were both certifiably batty.

Stiles was too busy looking at the back of Maggie’s head to absorb your mockery. Your brow furrowed at the intensity of his stare until your attention was diverted to the dusky orange cast over his skin. You glanced out the window; daylight was rapidly fading. Was it really already almost 8:30? “You should probably head home,” you raised your chin towards the door, “if you don’t want to run into the big bad wolf with a purple goo heavy arsenal.” 

He let out a little laugh, more like a breath really, and muttered, “You have no idea.” Your forehead crinkled as you parsed over whatever the hell that meant, and Stiles shoved the book he ordered into his already overcrowded backpack. “I’ll see you at school.”

Your chin bobbed as you gave him a little nod. You lifted Gizmo from his bed of tasseled meditation cushions, for your own comfort this time, and nosed into his matted fur. Maybe, Stiles was just…really into larping, or maybe he was just…a really dedicated collector of supernatural keepsakes—because there was absolutely no way that you just naturally attracted delusional conspiracy theorists. You’d already met your quota of one the moment you were born. 

“Get home safe.” Stiles’s voice pulled your face from Gizmo’s neck. He lingered against the doorframe, clutching his backpack strap. The corner of his mouth cocked into a tight smile, “No more dead batteries after dark, okay? I’ll kick your ass if you get eaten.”

You took a moment to smile, but once you did, it unfurled over your entire face like sunset coating the store in a golden glow. The corners of your eyes crinkled as you shook your head a little, “I’ll try to restrain myself from killing any more cars.”

“Friends,” Stiles grinned and pointed at you, “we’re totally friends.” He ducked out the door before you had the chance to disagree, but you couldn’t decide if you really wanted to this time. 

You almost dropped Gizmo when Maggie bumped you with your hip. “Who the hell was that?” 

“Stiles. He’s…” you waved your hand in the air and eventually settled on, “a friend.”

Maggie stroked the gray fluff on Gizmo’s cheek, cooed when he rubbed his face against her palm, and then pursed her lips, “Uh huh.”

You shrugged and buried your nose in Gizmo’s neck again, taking solace in the fact that at least half of your face was hidden by silver fur, “So he’s more like a fungus in my life.”

Maggie’s grin was insufferable. Her cheeks dimpled, and her eyes nearly disappeared into happy little crescent moons, “Uh huh.”

You glowered at a stuffed crow perched on top of a water-logged armoire; there was a shine in its beaded eyes that appeared a lot like laughter. “You are the single most irritating person I have ever met.”

It was an admirable trait, never getting upset, never getting offended—but at the moment you wished that Maggie wasn’t so idealistic. She simply gave you a smile that was annoyingly wrought with meaning and took Gizmo from your arms. “Whoever the hell he is, he’s right. Get your ass home before the Wolf Man bites it.”

Maggie wiggled her fingers in the air, and you shoved them away from your face. “I’m going. I’m going.” You paused at the door, gave the store one last look and Gizmo a little good-bye wave, “Seriously, mini-taser, Mags. Prime shipping’s gotta be faster than the spirit realm.” At the very least, a taser might actually have a chance against whatever carnivore was hell-bent on ruining your sophomore year.

[krystalkitdemi]

Multiplayer. Part 2

First post

The piercing sound of static filled the room of passed out friends. All were asleep from previous hours of games and laughter. You were in your room as your friends had decided to crash in different areas of the room with the Bedrolls that 2 had brought with him. Nobody was aware of the Shadowy figure that slithered between all of them to make its way towards you. The red slits of the figures eyes cast over you and your friends, looking at them in both curiousity and contempt. You were the only one that was picked out of the sleeping group, you were the one he wanted after all. However, your friends were one variable that he did not account for. All of them had interference with his world, and even now, as his world was linked to yours, their own interferences were showing. Like the soft threads you made, their own light threads shimmered in the feedback of the static, tangling to his body as they were carelessly strewn about. Auditor felt disgust at this and nodded to his cohorts to pull him back.

The strings did not let him go.

The feedback caused by the extra weights of your friends flung them from the original path that you followed and into this new world without you. You may have been taken to somewhere of relative safety, but your friends had no such fortune. Something else was looking out for them, be it the maker or their own positions as players in this world that seemed to bow to your very natures.

:Player 2:

2 felt his body hit the ground harshly. The wind was knocked out of him and he woke up. The air around him stunk of rotting flesh and burning garbage, he coughed as he got up and looked around. It took him a few seconds to fill his burning lungs with oxygen. He bent down and picked up his hat before hearing a shot and an impact near his location. "Now hold it right there!," a familiar sounding voice shouted out, "Don't make any sudden moves."

'Well shit.,' 2 thought to himself and slowly stood up.

"Keep yer hands where I can see 'em.," the voice ordered. "I'm not here to cause trouble.," 2 announced. "That remains to be seen.," The man replied.

2 looked up to find the origin of the voice, that was when he saw a sniper pointing a rifle at him. And a very familiar looking creature standing next to the sniper. "Well, Aren't you the strangest looking son of a gun I've ever seen.," The cowboy hat wearing grey skinned creature chuckled. "I could say the same thing about you.," 2 replied with a bold smile, "As you can probably guess, I ain't from around here." He took his jacket off and raised his arms, "I have no weapons. I have no intent to harm anyone. I just want to find my friends." "Oh for- There's more of you?!," The man shouted down at 2. "Yeah. But I think it's past time to introduce ourselves.," The Bold player said, "I'm 2, Player 2." This caused the man to stumble a bit before he responded, "I'm the Sheriff. I'm the boss around here." 2 nodded, "I'll respect that. You got a good operation here, Self-sufficient, Reinforced, Rather safe."

"Now, what are you doing out here, 'player 2'?," Sheriff asked. "Like I said before, I just want to find my friends. We're not from around here, and we need to go home as soon as possible.," 2 responded, "I repeat, I do not intend harm to you." "Would one of these friends happen to be 'Player'?," Sheriff asked. "Yes sir.," The player replied, "We've been friends for years and have worked on many things together." The air felt tense to 2. He recognized this place as Nevada, Specifically, The wall that led to the MERC facility. He hoped Sheriff wouldn't have his men open fire on him. That would suck. 2 let out a sigh as the sniper was ordered to stand down. The gate was opened a little and Sheriff shouted for him to get in quickly. From the cackling he heard behind him, 2 did not need to be told twice and sprinted to the gate.

The young man brushed the dust off of him and put his jacket back on. He fixed his hat and gloves before looking over to the Sheriff, who was walking up to him. 2 could tell it was Sheriff from how he dressed. But he did not look like the bean men that he and the others were used to. 'Homunculi' 4 would call something like this. Something that looked human, but was not. 2 let Sheriff walk around him, examining him cautiously. The older man stood in front of 2, to which the younger noted that they seemed to be about the same height. Although 2 could also tell he was somewhat taller than the man before him. This made 2 think, if he was this tall, were grunts all taller on average than humans? He would just have to find out by seeing examples of more of them. That, however, was not his primary concern at the moment. "Sheriff. Would it be okay for me to stay here for a bit while I look for my friends?," Player 2 asked, "If not, then I'll just leave and let you alone, I know you have a lot to worry about right now, trying to scrape together a livin' for you and the rest of MERC."

'I swear, I'll find all of you so we can get home.'

:Player 3:

3 cried out in pain as she felt a kick to her side. "What the hell is this thing?!," a voice asked, "It's damn ugly!" The Red jacket wearing woman looked up at the thing that kicked her. It looked like a man, but had grey skin and no facial features, save for a mouth and glasses where eyes should be. "You're not much better looking.," the rough young woman wheezed out with a jeer. "This thing has a mouth on it.," Another voice said as 3 was roughly wrenched up by her arm, "It's scrawny, It wouldn't be any good for the agency." "Hank would chew it up and spit it out in no time.," the first said. Rough fingers grabbed her face and forced her to look at who was in front of her, She recognized him immediately as an AAHW agent. 'Great. So this is what they look like up close.,' 3 thought to herself as she saw her reflection in the Grunt's shades.

The agent's claws threatened to cut into her skin as he gripped her face tighter, "Hey, this thing's skin is very thin." "Your face is hideous.," 3 spat then launched a glob of saliva onto the agent's glasses. The grey skinned grunt stumbled back and took his shades off to look at them. He had a cross marking instead of a face, a cross that scrunched up in disgust. "Disgusting creature.," the agent grumbled then motioned to the one holding 3, "Tie it up and gag it. We'll let the uppers decide what to do with it. Especially since it's not from around here." "Hopefully they teach it some manners.," the agent behind her snickered, "The spit isnt acidic is it?" 3 felt her hands get cuffed together and a tie wrapped around her head as a makeshift gag before she was shoved into a transport truck. She gave a good kick to the one that shoved her in and hit him between the legs.

The grunt went down in pain. 'guess they do have junk.,' 3 thought and felt the one she spat on stomp her foot as packback. "This one looks like it'll have to go through a lot of obedience training.," The one that she spat on growled, "Bitch." "Bitch huh? That's what we'll call it.," The one she kicked gasped and got up before punching her gut. 3 gasped in pain and immediately thought of her friends, were they also in danger? Was player and 4 in danger?! She could take pain very well, that is true, but seeing her friends in pain was unbearable to her. She would have to bide her time until she can get out of this situation and find her friends. 'I'll show you a bitch when I get out of this.,' 3 thought to herself.

The truck itself shook as it turned on and the men drove off. 3 knew this was not going to be easy, but she was used to fighting. She'd fight just to keep her friends safe, even if it gave her greivous wounds. But she had to have a significant plan in mind, grunts are literally bred for combat and seeing how big these two were, she would have to be careful. She may be brash and hotheaded, but she's not stupid. 'I'll make you two kneel, then I'll go find 4 and the others.,' She thought to herself, '4, wait for me, okay?' She laid on the floor of the moving truck, gathering her strength and planning her next move. Somehow, she was not scared, this excited her.

If only she could control these guys like she could control the playable characters in the game she and her friends had played...

But that was impossible. She just needed to find a way to reunite with her friends and get back home. How else would she be able to go on motorcycle rides on the bike she fixed and upgraded. She would take Player and 4 on another bike ride once this is all over. Hell, maybe she could get player and 2 bikes to go on rides with her and 4. The thought of that brought a smile to her sore face. 'That would be nice. We can all go on a trip.'

'Then maybe, we can all smile again, really smile again.'

She could hear the agents of front talking about what they were going to do once they reported back to base. Their conversation was not interesting, but it would give 3 a bit of insight into these bastards and into this world she had fallen into. Perhaps if she kept her ears open, she could find more information about her friends. She wondered if agents were as vicious gossips as people back home.

:Player 4:

A loud splash resonated into a wide open room. A small body swam to the surface of the tank she fell into and took a big gasp of air. 4 looked around, trying to decipher where she was. The last thing she remembered was the sleepover she and her friends had. She and 3 were right next to each other as usual. They had been talking about their favorite Madness combat characters and which ones they would smooch if given the chance. 4 shook her head of that and knew she had to get out of the tank as soon as possible. The waterproof lining of her favorite coat would only stave off water for so long. The last thing she wanted was the work she and 3 did with making this special LED coat to go to waste. She quickly found an edge and climbed out of the tank of liquid. She found herself on a metal grate over the tank. Her eyes scanned back into the tank and saw something inside of it.

It looked like a large person.

'What in the world is that?!,' she thought to herself and shook herself off. It was cold in this place. And being wet did not help in the slightest. She took her Coat off and shook it before putting it on a hook she found on the wall. She may as well wait to dry a bit before going to see where she was. voices caught her attention. Panicked sounding voices.

"Did you see that?!" "It landed in the tank!" "Someone call security to check it out!"

4 did not know what was going on, but she knew that it would probably be better to get out of there before being found. Especially since this place seemed to be important since it had security. She took her still wet coat and shook it of water as much as she cold before putting it back on and running across the grated elevated walkway to the door she spotted. She heard a door open behind her. "Intruder spotted on lab 14's catwalk!," She heard someone report with the distinct crackle of a walkie talkie. The petite young woman dashed through the door after it automatically for her, she ran to a set of stairs and flew down them. She was running blind through this 'lab' area, but she was scared of what would happen if she was caught.

She was able to run into a more opened space, it looked like a observation room. The automatic door behind her closed and 4 came to an abrupt stop. Not because she was out of steam, no, it was because of the large creature in front of her. It was tall and armored. 4 recognized it immediately from playing the arena mode a bit between the multiplayer streams.

A G03lm.

The tall, lumbering, armored creatured had his back to her. She did not alert him yet. The door opened again and she heard boots run in. "There it is!," A man's voice yelled. 4 thought quickly and ran behind the G03lm, on the opposite side of where he turned in order to keep out of his line of sight. Being small did have some benefits. She could see the scars and stitches on the G03lm's body, it was a lot different seeing them in real life compared with seeing them in game. "Hey, big guy, There's an intruder behind you.," the security who had been chasing 4 told the g03lm.

4 took off towards the door on the other side of the g03lm but it opened to show some men in red lens'ed masks on. She felt a pair of huge hands pick her up. "Intruder captured," She heard the G03lm groan out. "Huh, smaller than I thought.," The Security officer commented, "Take this little strange intruder to a holding cell." 4 wriggled a bit in the g03lms paws and felt a sharp pain of shock. One of the security officers escorting the g03lm holding her jammed a shock baton into her wet leg. Pain shot all through her body, but no sound came from her.

'Everyone. Where are you?'

'I'm scared'

[lauriescages]

That Kind of Night || Self-Writing

Location: Grit Pit Content Warning: References to violence

Laurie cussed quietly to himself as he listened to the baukbear scream as the lamina  held it down under the light. As dingy as this place could be sometimes, Laurie knew they’d only had it on to try and make it a fair fight. But he’d only just gotten the lighting to his liking around the baukbear cage. What? Was he just supposed to go out and find another one? Not fucking likely. If his bosses wanted a new one when that one had died so quickly, they could send somebody else. 

Turning away from the fight, Laurie grabbed a rag to wipe his hands with before heading down toward the cages. That fight had been shorter than anticipated, so they’d probably try to squeeze in another. He needed to check the feeding schedule and figure out what would be smart to send. Technically that wasn’t his job either, but Laurie liked to be ready for the occasions where he did get asked.

“Hedge hound versus hellhound?” he got asked as he was flipping through his paperwork.

Laurie didn’t even look up. “Come on, Jack. Would anyone even bet on the hedge hound in that?” he asked. “No way the hedge hound can strangle fast enough to avoid being burned?”

“Well, maybe that’s the angle,” Jack mused. “Can the hedge hound kill the hellhound before it’s forced to regenerate? We make the odds stay with no, give ‘em a chance to bet on the longshot. Make a little money on a last minute fight.” He shrugged and patted Laurie on the back. “Good thinking. Get them ready.”

Laurie grumbled to himself as he headed toward the hedge hound cage. He kept grumbling as a few others stepped in to help get the beasts upstairs and into cages on either side of the pit ring. Once the bell rang and the cages were opened, Laurie leaned against the wall, barely caring enough to watch. As predicted, the hellhound burned hot and ended things rather quickly. But at least that meant both were going back to the cages. One less thing he’d have to hear about later.

The action continued in the ring, but since it was two part-timers against each other, neither was anything Laurie needed to care about. He went about his nightly routine, heading down the hall over and over with buckets of fresh meat, rotting meat, specialty plants, and anything else needed in the night’s food schedule. He had his beasts’ cage locations memorized by this point, and Laurie could let his mind wander some while working. He occasionally risked putting in earbuds, but not being able to hear the beasts always put him on edge. 

“Easy night?” Jack asked, leaning against the wall in Laurie’s resource room as things upstairs must have wrapped up.

“Go fuck yourself,” Laurie responded without any heat. “Explain to me why that light was close enough to sunshine to actually kill my baukbear?”

“Your baukbear?” Jack repeated instead of answering the question.

Laurie rolled his eyes and filled another bucket of grains to finish out tonight’s feed list. “I’m the one who had to do all that work to get ready for it, so yeah. Mine. All this work to keep these beasts alive, and what thanks do I get? Certainly none from them, and then you let your prize fighter kill something that should be hard to kill in this setting.”

Jack shrugged. “Not my prize fighter any more than your baukbear. Neither of us gets paid enough for those claims.”

Laurie snorted and raised the bucket in a sort of toast. “All right, fine. I’ll give you that.”