#o hey look it's the volcano again

[robo-dino-puppy]

hzd: the frozen wilds | ikrie 6/?

[sageofgrief]

my first and only love

︱ gale galleon x reader, highschool sweethearts, established relationship, gale spoiling you because you deserve it <3

divider by cafekitsune

art by aliztyy (twt)

the day you met him was the day butterflies suddenly erupted inside your stomach. his brown golden hair that smelt like vanilla and coffee stung your nose in a good way, and his charming eyes that you could stare into forever, you wouldn't mind getting lost in it if it meant you could better understand him better, eyes are the windows of the soul after all.

ah damn it, he's too gorgeous. there's no way id ever get his atten- "hey!" you lifted your pen up from your notebook that you were just writing in to a familiar voice. you shifted your gaze to the person infront of you to see gale galleon. "o-oh! uuh.. sorry i was uh.. writing ssssomething.. can i help you..?" you stuttered out, making a fool out of yourself. "sorry.. can i uhh borrow a pen?" he nervously laughed. ahh he looked so cute blushing and avoiding your gaze, you didn't notice it unfortunately since you were also avoiding his gaze. you nodded and gave him the pen you were holding. he turns his back to his table to write something, while he was doing that, you could practically feel the hot blush on your face. it felt like your face was about to erupt like a volcano because of how flushed you were! so cute. you had all these thoughts in your head but before you could realize, he turns back to you and slides a piece of folded piece of paper along with your pen on your desk. he gulpd silently and turns back around.

you tilt your head in confusion and open the folded paper and what you saw was something you never could have expected. there on the lined paper, with messy but charming handwriting said "you're really cool, wanna hang out? -gale :)" and two drawn in boxes that said yes or no. you blinked a second time to really process if this is happening. without a thought you drew in a checklist in the yes box and folded it back together. you tap gale's shoulder and handed him the paper. he turns back to open the table and you swore you heard him do a little victory "yes...!" celebration after opening it. he once again turns back to you and says "soooo...movies? weekend?" "aye aye, captain".

"you always had that stupid eyepatch on everyday at school, people called you a pirate and some of the juniors even called you captain galleon!" months later, you were in your shared house with gale, you sat on the couch with his head on your shoulder. firepit crackling accompanied with the cold night air breeze and that post rain smell, what was it called.. ah yes, petrichor.

"you think my eyepatch was stupid?" he looked up at you and pouted with those big sad puppy eyes, "of course not, you goober. you looked edgy" "damn right i looked edgy" he said proudly then laughing along with you. "i never thought this would happen you know.." you sighed as you looked deep into his alluring eyes, his breathing calmed you... he sat up straight and kissed your forehead before saying "..me neither" and giggling like a child, shortly after he pulled you into a big bear hug where your head layed on his chest and there you fell asleep. he stroked your hair and had his chin rested on top of your head, shushing you to sleep coupled with whispering sweet nothings. just before you fully fell asleep though, you slurred out something while you were half awake, "i love..you gale... i always...will.." he smiles warmly and kisses your head, "i will always love you too, silly." and continued stroking your hair until you drifted off to dreamland.

apologies for any typos, i quite literally wrote this in bed.

intro • masterlist • general rules • detailed request rules • main acc @sageofgrief • nsfw acc @sageofmarionette

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Avatar Love talk 3: Game vs Action

Follow up from (and also defending Kyo in this vid)

Yangchen: I plead the fifth on what Kuruk said. No idea why you two think you got your horny ass desires from me. Kyoshi: I'm not the one who sensually listened to the sound of Kavik writing with a pencil, but go off? Yangchen: Again, pleading the fifth! Anyway I still think Kyoshi has the least amount of game. Kyoshi: Really? We're still on this? Can't we talk about something else? Wan: Like your mommy issues? Kyoshi, pushing his face away and knocking him down: Ok, defending my "game" it is. Yangchen: Kyoshi, really, just accept it. You can't flirt for shit. Kyoshi: Again, I don't need to. Yangchen: You keep saying that! How do you expect to get anyone if you can't or don't flirt? Kyoshi: I walk into the room and look at them. Maybe smile, if I'm feeling feisty. Yangchen: That's not going to work- Wan: It worked for you, Yangchen. Yangchen: *deflated* Kyoshi: Oh so it's "flirting" and "super game" if Yangchen does it, but if Kyoshi does it then I'm just lucky? Wow. Hmmm. So fair. Yangchen: Kyoshi, you had two years with Rangi and Yun and I had five minutes with Kavik. We are not the same. Kyoshi: Listen, Yangchen, I think we've got it all wrong. It isn't about game or flirting. It's about action. I know how to get my girl going- Wan: Yangchen knows how to get Kavik going too! Yangchen: SHut UP, Wan! .......Yeah I know how to get Kavik going too, blow steam in his ear, fling him off a bison, what's your point????? Korra: Wait, fling him off a-? Kyoshi: Oh no no, Yangchen. That's not what I mean. You see, I'm probably going to go down in history as "World's best daughter-in-law." Whenever I sincerely talk about how I'm going to take care of Rangi or Hei-Ran, and Rangi melts into a literal puddle at my feet. Korra: So, like, you're amazing moral character is how you flirt? Kyoshi: No, it's not flirting. It's doing. Actions. Like I said before, they like me for who I am. And maybe because I have a good smile too. Kuruk: Being good looking does help. Yangchen: Ugh, where are you going with this? Kyoshi: I'm getting to it. What I want to say is, 'What's so great about having game, when the real measure should be the results?' Yangchen: *rolls eyes* 'Results.' Please, Kyoshi. We all know I had Kavik wrapped around my finger. Kyoshi: So you got with him? Yangchen: I-well uh- Kyoshi: Tell me, Yangchen. Which one of us actually GOT their boo in the end? Hm? Yangchen: .......... Kyoshi: Only actions and outcomes matter, Yangchen. What's so great about your "game" if you can't even "win"? Wan: I haven't seen a burn this severe since that volcano took out Roku. O-O Voice on the phone: 911, what's you're emergency? Korra, on the phone: I just witnessed a murder! I mean both parties are already dead-can the dead die twice?????

[hrodvitnon]

(if the Shimo-froze-Ghidorah theory ends up being true)

Rodan: Rodan, nice to meet you.

Shimo: It is a great honor. Your wings are scarlet as the dawn, do they burn brighter when you're enflamed?

Rodan: Uhh- yeah.

Shimo: Magnificent.

Rodan: Heh, yeah.

He gives Godzilla a side eye. The lizard just shrugs with a smile.

Rodan: Oh, almost forgot. Hey Ghidorah! Come meet the new girl!

San: Aw, all of us?

Ichi: Yes you idiot, let's go.

They walk out and all appear shocked upon seeing Shimo.

Ichi: OH GOD NOT HER

Shimo: You again? You keep dangerous company, my King.

Godzilla: You know them?

Ni: THIS BITCH PUT US ON ICE A MILLION YEARS AGO!

San: YEAH, IT WAS REALLY FUCKING COLD.

Rodan: What?? That was you??

Shimo: Indeed.

Godzilla: When did you do that??

Shimo: I left to investigate a minor disturbance on the planet's surface one day and I handled it promptly.

Ichi: WHO'RE YOU CALLING A MINOR DISTURBANCE??

Shimo: You.

Mothra: Every time she speaks I like her more and more...

Vivienne: Wait a second, I thought you had a hand in freezing Ghidorah, Goji?

Goji: Where on earth did you hear that?

Ilene Chen: Ancient texts, mostly. All of them are pretty vague, but they had inscriptions. Take a look.

Goji: Ah, I see the confusion. See this picture here? That's Shimo. I don't have spikes on my head.

Shimo: This smaller creature here is Goji. Notice how he screams and rages like a volcano? As was your wont, if I recall...

Goji: And if I recall, you're the one who praised me for my vocal performance. If you didn't want me to be loud, perhaps you should've thought about that before purring over what a "good boy" I was, and telling me to "moan louder for mommy."

Mothra: *takes a LONG sip of her drink with a shit-eating grin*

Shimo: ...that's not exactly what I said and you know it.

Goji: Language may drift, O' Mother of Monsters, but your Akkadian pillow talk lives forever!

Ichi, whispering: what the fuck is happening

[polarisbibliotheque]

Hey there, i just read a shard of ice and its really good! Also your love for the witcher series <3 Do you think Vergil would do what Geralt does with his last wish from the djinn? Where he binds his and yen's fate together? Thank you!^^

Helloooo! Oh I'm so glad you enjoyed that one, it was really personal to me ^^

And YES, I love The Witcher!! I have to go back reading the books - Yen and Geralt's relationship is one of my favourites even if it isn't perfect. I'd argue it's precisely because it isn't perfect.

Plus, I love Geralt's adventures as a witcher around the world. It's always a treat to read ❤

Now, regarding your ask about Vergil... ABSOLUTELY. He's a dramatic storm that is approaching, 10/10 would do that.

But let's dive into it!

For those who don't know, in the first book of The Witcher series, The Last Wish, our dear Geralt de Rivia falls for Yennefer and, as she is about to be killed by a djinn who is very much pissed at her (long story), Geralt has a last wish to be fullfilled by said djinn. He ties his fate to Yen's and thus the djinn cannot kill her - saving her in the proccess. She thinks he is out of his mind because she sees what he just did as a way to doom himself, but he doesn't care. Of course, Yen falls for him but she's too proud and prizes her freedom too much to officially tie herself to Geralt.

Like I said, they are complicated and less than perfect. It's wonderful ❤

Now to our beloved Vergil.

He would NEVER do it to a loved one if there were other alternatives to save their life. BUT, if that was the ONLY choice, he would.

Since the whole last wish thing is with Yen, not Ciri, I'm going to take a look at Vergil's relationship with a romantic partner ;)

Of two things we are certain about him: Vergil can survive virtually anything and drag his body through the most adverse of situations by sheer will; and he is traumatized and afraid to lose those he loves/being unable to protect them.

If by any chance he and his s/o ever found themselves on a situation where the only solution is to tie his s/o fate to his for them to survive, Vergil would do it without flinching.

After all, he spent his whole life in a mindless quest for power to be able to protect himself - and others, even if he tries to deny it with all his might. He is indeed powerful and able to protect himself against the most vicious of foes - he can't say the same about his s/o. So, if his s/o's fate is tied to his, it won't be by his death that they will perish. It will never be by his death.

Of course, does he take into consideration the heartache that such a powerful bond can create? Like our dearest Geralt, no. Vergil is cold and calculating, sure, but he has a short temper streak just like his brother. The only difference is that, unlike Dante, Vergil doesn't go all out screaming and going in a volcano flaming demon frenzy - he glares and goes in an ice cold demon frenzy. But they are both short tempered, no one can change my mind on that one xD

Vergil can and will use logic and calculate everything. He will be cautious, observing and swift when dooming his enemies. But, if you take him by his heart, you'll have controlled-by-emotions Vergil. He doesn't really know how to deal with those, so they are mostly dreanched in anger, hurt, trauma, melancholy and protection instinct. His logic is out of question, the only thing left is a tunnel focus on being powerful to protect the one thing that can break his glass-fragile heart once more.

He can't afford to lose the very few things he has. He is 100% emotion driven, he does whatever he must (you know, like the whole DMC 5 ordeal to friggin' survive). When he's back at himself again, their fates are already tied.

And honestly? That can be his death sentence - it can shatter his heart, tear his soul apart, cause him grief and mourning in the long run... But he doesn't regret it. He never will.

It might end like Yen and Geralt in the books, or Yen and Geralt in the games. Either way, he would consider himself lucky to, after everything he did and lived through, love and be loved in such an intense way, be its end bitter or sweet.

Gods, I LOVED your question. HAHAHA thank you for sending it! It was surely a lovely thing to think about! I hope you have a great week ❤

[quarktrinity]

quark watches star trek season 2 episode 14

hm. this seems racist

incredibly horny. but racist

does this count as sex work

is she getting paid

sometimes the horniness in this show is just too boring to actually be hot :/

Ominous White Guy

"we wont leave without youscottyrelaxanenjoyyerselvv..."

this is prescription sex work i guess

return of the fog machines

is this the same set from the cult episode?

scotty maybe committed murder?

5 bucks says a misogyny ghost did it

this detective talks like a childrens show host

court of fucking

politically relevant interracial marriage is politically relevant

every rich alien wants to be kirks sugar daddy

thank you background music for telling me this guy is evil

spocks lovin that captains chair

unsure if any dude in a black robe has ever been a good guy

tourist trap monopoly

obviously ADRd mccoy says ptsd has symptoms

scotty was once again possessed by the misogyny ghost. according to me

scotty is almost literally a red herring here

ominous white guy top culprit for the misogyny ghost

ominous white guy confirmed misogynist

kirk walks across the room to take a private call

star trek says misogyny is an ancient force of primordial evil

lets use the space mind reader

sorry for being bisexual but kirks ass looks amazing

scottys first name is montgomery....

hey how about we use the lie detector on the ominous white guy

oh good they are

ok he didnt do it. twist

JACK THE RIPPER??? LIKE ACTUAL LITERAL JACK THE RIPPER?????

IS STAR TREK ABOUT TO SAY THAT JACK THE RIPPER WAS AN IMMORTAL ALIEN

the computer is doing some wild speculating rn

ohhhhhh it was the detective :O

thank you spock for reciting the episode title

kirk kills a man with his fists

WAIT WAS I RIGHT ABOUT THE MISOGYNY GHOST

HAHAHHAHAHHAHAHA

oh my god this is so silly and great

actual irl jack the ripper is possessing the enterprise

mccoy could tranquilize a volcano

sulu gets high and flirts with kirk

LMAO

spock just paralyzed the computer by telling it to compute the last digit of pi

were all getting high for feminism

"heheheheh kill kill kill you all <3 heheheheh"

lets beam out jack the ripper

so that detective dude is just dead now

kirk tries and fails to ask out spock

lets all get high for shits and giggles

yaaayyyy

[msm-tsotmw]

( . . . )

(H..lo?)

Hello? You awake?

(Sprigg tries to blink their eyes open. Their glasses are somehow still intact.)

Ugh… huh?! Where am I? Who are you?!?

Oh, you are! You’re on Air Island. My friends and I found you and your friends lying on the beach unconscious, so we brought you up here!! I’m Strootheo, by the way, but you can just call me Theo. Anyways, you’re alive!

(@paidexp it’s the bird :D)

Uh… where are they?

Um, who?

My friends. You said they were unconscious too.

Oh, they’re just outside doing stuff! I don’t know exactly WHAT they’re doing, though, but I think I saw one of them try to jump off of a chair while the other started trying to make friends with literally everyone on the island.

“Make friends with literally everyone…” sounds like Toorie. Uh, can I get out of this bed now?

Oh, sure! I think Toorie told me that she was “worried sick” about you earlier. I think she’s by the bakery, eating a Big Salad with some Mammott.

You mean Mondo?

Uh… yeah, probably!

Oh, okay.

…Wait, what about Mauna?

Ehhh… who?

She’s about the same height as Mondo, has a volcano for a head, and carries a bright red bag around with her.

Oh, right, her! Yeah, I think she was talking with Xever about the “Dawn of Fire” or something like that. No idea what that’s about, haha!

(theo , are you done trying to talk to the fluffy green thing ?)

Oh, right! Yeah, I am, actually. Wait, what did you say was your name again, uh, green one?

Sprigg.

Ah, okay! Yeah, uh, Sprigg, this is Shwam! She’s kinda shy, but she knows their way around here. :)

uhhhhh , hi ? um , i can lead you to your friends if you want …

That would be convenient, thanks.

okay , uhhhhhhh , i saw two of them over there by the bakery . i’ll lead ya there .

Okay, thanks, Shwam.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

its been a while and we still havent seen sprigg

do you think theyre dead or smth

What ?! No , No !! They’re Probably Just Studying Their Surroundings , Like How They Usually Do On New Islands . Let’s Just Hope They’re Fine !!

Plus , Mauna Managed To Survive Being In Water , So I’m Sure They’re Okay .

uh … are these your friends , sprigg ?

Yeah.

Oh , Sprigg !! It’s You !! Welcome Back :D

we thought you fucking died

(Toorie nudges Mondo, still smiling.)

…You what?

(Mondo-)

nothing

i jumped off a chair btw

I know. Theo told me.

Uhh , Who’s Theo ?

the pink bird guy with one leg who checked on us to see if we were ok

Oh , Right ! It !

Anyways , We’re Glad You’re Back .

Yeah, I could tell.

…So are you two gonna save that Big Salad for me and Mauna?

Of Course !! We’re Not Leaving Anyone Out .

speaking of mauna where tf is she

Theo told me she was talking with this guy named Xever.

i think i may know where she is … want me to go get her ?

Yeah, that’d be convenient. It’s dinner time for me and my friends anyways, and I don’t think she’d want to miss out on this, uh… salad.

okay , i’ll go get her .

~~~~~~~a few minutes later~~~~~~~

… uhm , she’s here ! i have to go now , though … uh , bye .

Okay , thank you , Shwam ! I highly appreciate your help .

you’re welcome . you can , uhh , eat , now .

Hi , guys !

Hey , Mauna !! :DD

sup

Hi. Toorie and Mondo apparently ordered this huge fucking salad, and there is NO WAY they’re gonna be able to finish it by themselves.

O-oh . Uh , you two ordered THIS ?

what

we were hungry af

(Mondo Had No Idea What He Was Thinking When He Ordered This .)

Oh . Okay … let us dig in , then !! I have not eaten anything in a WHILE .

…Uh, what?

What ? I was trapped in amber , and I did not have much to eat on the boat ride ! Anyways , this salad looks DELICIOUS .

…Yeah. I guess you could say that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

hgaujvHvhgvajhgvaygvhGJHGAJYGAJBJHbjhabuhbauyg sorry for not posting today!! as I said on my main, I had to go with my grandma to an appointment, then to a restaurant w/ my family, then I got a haircut and some parts of my hair dyed pink B)

dying hair takes a lot of time tho so yeah

that’s why I took so long to post-

-Mod Jimmy 🗣️

[anotherleftturn]

The Silhouette of a Man-Chapter 12

Chapter 12

1

Dirk had gone to work, and Julie once again found herself alone in the house, cleaning up his mess of beer cans. Like any other day, it was not a chore that she desired. There were days when she wished that she could hire a maid so that she could rest for at least oneday.

When Julie got to working, her thoughts went back to the face in the mirror, the twin that had been beaten to a pulp, a twin that was pleading for help. She wanted to help that twin, but in the long run it seemed doomed and pointless to her. She would continue what she did, cleaning the house, looking after Dirk, pleasing Dirk in bed; and that way her life would be easier. Yet her mind strayed to the Homeless Shelter and Andrew. The twin wanted her to see more of Andrew, talk to him even more than she already had. But it would have to be very secretive if she ever did try to do anything.

Julie went into the kitchen to do the dishes. She started to clean when her mind went to last night, the panting of Dirk, the kicking and punching of Dirk, her sobbing and crying. The sobbing and crying were two things that stood out in her mind like headlights, but not the most prominent of all the memories. She needed a hero, an escape, anythingto get her out of the miserable life that she was leading. Even if it wasn’t Dirk’s fault, everything was still just as painful to her. She needed somebody like Andrew to talk to.

She scrubbed the dishes harder, her hands feeling ferocious with the sink cloth.

She was truly beginning to love three o’ clock, and that brought on thoughts of going to the Homeless Shelter, thoughts that glimmered in her mind like twinkling stars at night.

Julie’s face turned red in anger when she suddenly thought of Dirk as the never-ending cloudiness of Back End, always keeping his eyes on her. She scrubbed harder. The plate suddenly dropped to the floor, breaking. She cried out in surprise, looking to the floor like she had shot somebody.

She got the brush and pail and started to clean up the broken remains of what wasDirk’s mother’s plate. She had died when Dirk was a young child, and to Dirk his mother’s dishes were as dear to him as his life. Julie knew that night would not be pleasant for her as she gazed at the broken pieces of plate, the plates a clear omen to that thought.

Shallow tears swam in her eyes as she cleaned up the broken plate.

2

Eddie ascended the steps that led to the Homeless Shelter; and when he reached the top the first thing to greet his eyes was Andrew behind the counter, cleaning the counter top. Wearing a tux, and having his hair slicked back like somebody from the twenties, it suddenly made Eddie feel like he was in some kind of surreal dream.

Eddie didn’t have his uniform on yet, but Andrew looked like he was dressed up for a party.

“Hey,” Andrew said, his eyes catching Eddie at the entrance. “How you doing, buddy?”

. Eddie struggled to compose any words to come out of his mouth, like a bunch of people stuck in a doorway. “Hi,” he said, a limp hand waving to Andrew.

“Well look who’s here,” Francine said, a bitterness to her voice like a snake bite to the neck. “How long have you been working for me, Mr. Rackett? Six months? Mr.Wright has been working here about two days and he’s doing a better job than you’ve ever done.”

“Okay, m’am,” Eddie struggled. “I’ll work harder.”

“Yeah,” Francine said, “you do that.” She finished the sentence with a grunt and then walked away.

“Hello to you, too,” Eddie mumbled. He noticed that Andrew was smiling, watching the conversation between Eddie and Francine as if he was watching TV. Eddie looked sharply at Andrew. “Get to work, kiddo. You have to work, you know. This ain’t a parade.”

Andrew only smiled, and that made Eddie furious. The smile was one of a man taking pleasure in seeing a one legged man trying to kick a ball. Eddie could feel the anger rising up to his temples like a volcano about to erupt. He grabbed the broom aggressively and got to work. Eddie at least knew that mopping would take his mind off of Andrew.

For now.

3

She decided to wear her big sunglasses to the Shelter, doing a good job of hiding the bruises.

When she got to the Homeless Shelter she thought somebody might spot one of the bruises, and she thought they might blame Dirk.

She was about to enter when Andrew appeared at the entrance.

“Hey, there, Julie,” he said, first smiling. Then the smile died. “What happened to you? Why are you wearing sunglasses?”

“Oh it’s nothing,” Julie lied. “Just in case the sun comes out.” She put on her most phony smile, and she hoped that the phony smile seemed as real as it could possibly get. Her eyes focused in on Andrew, whose mouth was open in an o shape, his eyes trying to read hers.

“Okay,” Andrew said doubtfully. “Come on in. There’s people to serve.”

“Sure thing,” she said, walking in.

She entered and saw that Eddie was looking at her. He knew why Julie was wearing the sunglasses, and a part of Julie knew that Eddie knew why she was wearing the sunglasses.

“Good afternoon, Julie,” Eddie said with a smile. “How’s your day been?”

Touched by the sentiment of the question, Julie spoke up. “It’s been alright...”

“Eddie,” he replied. “Eddie Brackett.” None of what he said sounded bitter or resentful, rather just sounding nice and calm. “When you hear a racket, it’s certainly Eddie Brackett.”

Julie laughed gently at that. “That’s funny,” she said.

“It’s good to hear that you’re having a nice day, Julie,” Eddie said, getting back to work.

“Get back to work, Rackett!” Francine yelled from the counter. “I don’t pay you to charm the volunteers. You don’t charm me!”

Julie rolled her eyes.

Andrew looked at Eddie. A frown was starting to build; and then he turned his focus to Julie. “How about in an hour or two we have a chat outside, just shoot the shit?”

Julie’s face drew in color. “That’d be nice, Andrew,” she said. The mop was audibly getting aggressive.

“You two gotta help for awhile!” Francine hollered in a nonsensical hysteria. “I’m not running a one woman show...Julie.” Julie frowned. For a second Julie had wondered why Francine had not included Andrew and then passed the thought over like a card of black jack.

Francine beckoned Julie over with one bending index finger. Julie walked on over. “Now I know that you’re just a volunteer, that this isn’t a real job, but young lady, you must take what work you do seriously. Got me?” Francine looked over at Andrew. “And don’t be playing hotsee-totsee when you’re in a relationship.”

Hotsee Totsee? What a fucking bitch, Julie thought. She composed herself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Francine.”

“Yeah...sure. And it’s Mrs. Starr, to you.”

Who could even tell that you were married? Julie thought. “Okay, Mrs. Starr,” she said, walking away. As she did, she could’ve sworn that she heard Francine mumbling something, sure that Francine had mumbled, “Dirk deserves better than you.”

Julie gritted her teeth together as she turned away from Francine.

Just like any other day, Julie fed the homeless and gave them shelter in the other room. She was also looking forward to any kind of conversation with Andrew.

It would be something to make her forget about yesterday.

4

The clouds were departing from the sky when Julie and Andrew started outside. Julie felt like she was in a very safe place when she was with Andrew. There was just something about him that made her feel better, not having to think of Dirk’s angry face every second.

Andrew smiled at her. “Do you want to go for a walk? We can talk while we walk.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Julie said, smiling right back at him.

Both of them were quiet for a good portion of the walk, Julie wrapping her arms around herself. She liked the silence, regardless of the fact that they had intended on talking. “The weather’s starting to turn for the better,” she remarked.

“Yeah,” Andrew said, looking up at the dissipating clouds and at the blue sky behind them. “The sun has a way of making things look better, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it does.”

Julie was still wearing her big sunglasses, and she really hopedthat Andrew would not bring it up. She could just imagine Dirk finding out that somebody had seen her eyes, how everybody would look to him like he was some kind of a monster.She looked to the ground, tears welting up in her eyes.

“How long have you and Dirk been together?” Andrew asked. Andrew’s face looked rather serious.

“Since senior year in High School,” she said. “I was trying out for cheerleader. He said that he fell in love with me at first sight.”

“Really?” Andrew said, low-toned. “Why are you really wearing those sunglasses, Julie?”

“Because it’s a nice day!” Julie said jumpily. She could feel her nerves bending like piano wire, almost ready to snap. “Why else would I be wearing them?”

“Okay,” Andrew said, “never mind. It’s just that I know why. We don’t have to talk about it, but I know. Dirk wouldn’t happen to be a violent person, would he?”

“Shutup!” Julie hollered. “Just shutup!” She started walking quickly. “Just leave me alone, Andrew! Leave me the fuck alone!”

“Julie!” Andrew called.

Julie didn’t want to look back. She didn’t want Andrew to bring up Dirk, but he had. She saw the coffee shop ahead of her, and she decided that she needed some place to stay, to relax. She needed some place to get away from the world that she had to face every day, and the world that she faced every day was not a world she felt that she could bare for much longer.

She got to the entrance of the coffee shop, went inside, ordered a cup of coffee, and only wished that her worries would somehow disappear.

One could only hope.

5

The Man was sitting in the alleyway, watching cars go by.

In all the time that he had followed Julie home, he had never entered the Shelter when Julie was inside. He thought it vital that he make a step of courage to go inside and be in the same room as Julie, to be near her. Underdog was sleeping on the other side of the alleyway while those thoughts ran through his head.

Last night had been the final straw for The Man. Last night he realized for the first time what kind of a man he truly was. The memory of just watching Julie be raped reeled over and over in his mind like a piece of film; The Man thinking that his mind was one masochistic monstrosity.

Voices were coming from the opening of the alleyway. The Man peered out the side and saw Julie walking with a man that he had not seen before. The man was wearing a fancy suit, and he had very clean, slicked back hair.

As soon as they passed the alleyway, he started to follow the two of them. He was curious to who this man was.

Suddenly, halfway down the street, Julie screamed at the man in the suit.

Julie rushed away from him.

The man in the suit called, “Julie! I’m sorry!”

Those words made The Man feel like there was hope for this black and white tux stranger.

The Man, acting like a stumble-bum of a hobo, passed by the mystery man casually, and followed Julie to the coffee shop, where she would take refuge for a few hours. The Man could see her sitting in a seat near one of the shop’s windows, sadness and maybe fear in her eyes.

6

Julie took a seat near one of the windows, almost feeling obligated to do so. The window created a great opportunity to look at the sky. Once the sun started to go down, it would take on a beautiful effect.

Taking a sip of her coffee, her thoughts seemed to spill out. She thought that she had been unfair to Andrew. The truth just hurt, and she just hoped that he would come back to talk to her because she regretted not having that conversation that they were supposed to have.

She looked at her watch and it read five-fifty. She had told Dirk before he left that she would be at the Shelter for a few more hours than usual. Surprisingly, he wasn’t mad about that fact. He had told her that he was going out with a couple of friends to have dinner.

Being given a few more hours to not have to deal with Dirk was a gift to her. The cup in her hand started to shake, teetering back and forth. Maybe Andrew was more right than she thought. Maybe Dirk was a truly violent human being, and that there was no saving him.

Across from her were two men sitting together. One was very tall, with shaggy brown hair, stubble covering his face, wearing worn pants and a jacket. The man who was beside him was short and fat. He had a horseshoe of black hair, and he was smiling at her as if she were some kind of tray of food heading his way.

Julie looked at them uneasily.

A few minutes later they both left, the fat short one laughing some words to his tall, lanky friend. Julie sighed relief as they left, alone with her thoughts, taking a sip of coffee every now and then as she stared out at the diminishing day.

7

Julie looked out the window for a long time, a long time being the closest amount of duration that came to her; and frankly she didn’t even really care how long she had been in the coffee shop. Just looking out the window, watching the sun go down seemed to be good enough for her. Thoughts of going home were very small and dwindling. She could hear the hustling noises of footfalls and chattering waitresses, some of them even talking about the sad looking young lady, her eyes focused on the window; and the waitresses were wondering what was keeping her inside there.

The oldest of the waitresses, a stout woman at the age of sixty with straw colored hair walked up to Julie’s table with a gentle smile on her face. “Dear?” she said.

Julie felt as if she was awakened from a long, weary sleep. She looked to the waitress slowly and smiled flatly. “Hello,” she said.

“Dear, you have been here an awfully long time. And we are getting ready to close down for the night.”

“Oh, really?” Julie said. “I should be getting on my way, then.”

“Well, have a nice trip home, ma’m,” the waitress said.

Julie smiled warmly at the waitress’s comment, and got up. Her knee joints popped as she rose. She almost felt like laughing at the noise of her knees popping, but decided to hold it in. “Goodnight,” she said to the waitress, heading to the entrance, stepping outside.

The air was cool, and in the summer this kind of weather was nice. On too many occasions had the breeze that stroked her face been a warm welcome to Julie on those summer nights, and when she got a second look at the sky(not from inside the coffee shop) she was surprised. It was nearly pitch-black outside. She started to wonder if Dirk had gotten home already, and that proved to be the incentive that she needed to hurry on home.

The streetlight at the end of the block was burnt out, leaving part of the street in darkness. On the other side of the street were mostly abandoned houses and houses with no lights on. The coffee shop was near the end of the street, so the fact that the streetlamp was out made Julie nervous; and the part of the street left in darkness was the way back to her house.

She started walking down the street, still thinking about if Dirk was home or not, when she swore that she could hear at least two more pairs of footfalls from behind her. Suddenly Julie felt hands caress her waist. This made her jump. She looked up and saw two eyes looking down at her, and what she could’ve sworn was a single grin, but it was too dark to tell.

“Where’s a fine thing like you going in a street like this?” the voice with the grin said.

“Leave me alone,” Julie said, starting to walk faster. Another pair of eyes were in front of her but lower down.

“Where you going, baby? We just want to have some fun, is all. Don’t you want to have some fun?” the eyes lower down said.

That made Julie cry out, and she suddenly felt herself being lifted up onto a shoulder, which must’ve been the higher up eyes.

“Let’s have some fun,” the lower eyes said greedily.

The night before was coming back like remembering a nightmare that you just wanted to forget. Dirk’s panting. His voice. “I love you, baby,” he had said. Julie started to cry out. She felt her pants being pulled down.

And that was when she knew she was in hell.

8

The Man waited around the coffee shop the whole time, staying at the corner of the shop near an alleyway, looking up at the sky. The sky at that point was a bluish-purple. A hobo passed him by, giving him a smile as he pushed a shopping cart filled with cans; and then he offered him a bottle of Coca-Cola. The Man accepted and drank it down. He thanked the hobo, and waved him goodbye. With the Coca- Cola bottle in hand, it made him think of how he disposed of what he drank. When it came time to urinate, he usually found an alley and only hoped that a cop wouldn’t be passing by.

His back against the wall of the coffee shop, the Coca Cola bottle in his hand, he started to drift off. When he opened them again, the sky was black and he heard the coffee shop’s door- bell ring.

He peered his eyes around the corner of the wall, saw Julie walking down the steps of the shop slowly and look at the broken streetlight. Even in the dark The Man somehow knewthat there was fear on her face. And that was when he heard two silently laughing men walk past him. One of the men was of lank, and the other was short and fat.

“Let’s get some action, Carl,” the short fat one said, passing by The Man.

“Sure thing,” the tall one said. The two of them slid their way to Julie like snakes.

The Man could feel his heart thumping in his chest so fast and so hard that he thought he was going to die of a heart attack right there and right then. He knew what they intended on doing to Julie. They planned on doing exactly what Dirk had done to her the night prior.

Not this time, The Man thought solemnly. Not a chance in hell.

He knew that if he let them get away with this, he could never live with himself ever again. So, his heart doing jumping jacks in his chest, sweat encased on his palms, forehead and chest, he walked slowly, ever so slowly, towards them.

Julie was crying.

The tall one was pulling down her pants, revealing her buttocks.

It’s time to do the things heroes are made of, The Man thought as he approached the lanky man.

If only once.

9

Julie was screaming for her life. Part of what she was screaming about was the fact that through the darkness of the night the face of Dirk was on the high-eyed man and the low-eyed man. They both had Dirk’s sinister grin, and there was no one to help her. It was like the whole world had emptied, and she and these two men were the only ones left. She wriggled back and forth on the high-eyed man’s shoulder, feeling her pants on her ankles. She heard the low-eyed man laughing, almost cheering the high-eyed man on. “Please, don’t hurt me!” she pleaded.

“Shut the fuck up,” the high-eyed man growled, getting ready to put her to the ground to bend her over. “First me, Stan. Then you.”

“Fine, fine,” Stan grunted impatiently, just wanting his turn to come its way.

When she was put to the ground that was when she heard the shattering of glass and the high-eyed man’s grip loosened. She lost her balance, tripping over the high-eyed man’s foot, hitting her head on the ground.

Everything didn’t go black. But it was fuzzy.

10

The Man’s chest was beating faster as he got closer and closer. He was suddenly aware that he had the Coca-Cola bottle in his hand, the grip on it very tight, even with his palms sweating. The tall man said “First me, Stan. Then you.”

The short fat man said, “Fine, fine.” That was when the tall one put Julie to the ground, getting ready to bend her over.

This was it. The Man knew that he had to do something. He looked at the Coca-Cola bottle, and as if he had had a revelation, he looked to the back of the tall guy’s head. He raised the bottle up to the air, and that was when he knew the fat one could see him. He smashed the bottle over the tall man’s head. The tall man’s grip of Julie loosened, and she tripped over his foot. The moonlight hit The Man’s face. Stan suddenly didn’t look so sure of himself but spoke up anyway.

“Who the fuck-“

“Get the fuck outta here!” The Man shouted. His voice had sounded like it was coming from a microphone, making Stan jump. “I swear to God I’ll kill you if you don’t leave, you fat fuck!”

“Fine, fine,” Stan said, starting to back off.

Julie raised her head, staring at Stan, who looked as if he had seen a ghost.

The Man looked to Julie and was suddenly aware that he did not want to be seen. No yet. Stan had vanished; that had satisfied The Man as he started to walk away, his face staring at the moon.

Julie looked towards The Man, only seeing the top half of his silhouette.

“Andrew?” she whispered, positive that he had come back. Somebody had come to save her, and she just couldn’t think of anybody else that it could’ve possibly been. She would remember the sight, first looking back for the low-eyed man, but he was nowhere to be seen. She turned her head back and kept her eyes on the silhouette.

She thought it was possibly the man she was in love with, that thought making her eyes never stir away from the silhouette before it made a turn on the corner of the street.

It was her hero.

It was the silhouette of a man.

[chronologicalhomestuck]

karkat pov liveblog: part 10 (i am ditching the act thing for now because i dont want to keep track of that and it has reached the point of being a stupid thing to attempt)

whoops its been a while since i last posted here. graduated highschool, lazed around home to celebrate summer beginning, yknow how it is. when i last posted, karkat had just finished trolling john for the second time, at the point in time when john had just had a poorly timed vriska-induced nap that caused the creation of bec noir. i think i fumbled the cause-and-effect and chronology a bit in that post, but whateverrr the minute details are unimportant. im more interested in seeing what karkat is gonna toss my way next!

looks like jade is his next target of torment.

CG: HI AGAIN, IDIOT. GG: oh nooooooo CG: SO I GUESS TODAY IS FINALLY THE DAY YOU FUCK EVERYTHING UP. GG: >:O CG: IS THERE NOTHING I CAN DO TO CHANGE YOUR MIND?

oh, i saw someone point this out recently i think, but the parallel to calliope and jane's conversation here is pretty obvious

UU: good morning, lovely. ^u^ GG: Why, hellooooooo. UU: so i gUess today is finally the day yoU make everything better. GG: :B! [...] UU: is there nothing i can do to ease yoUr mind?

but back to jade and karkat! based on karkats messages and the timestamp, its the afternoon (13:04) of april 13th (in jade's timezone, at least, not that any of this matters much).

this conversation consists mostly of

karkat trying to contact the other most obviously responsible member of bec noir's creation

jade getting very mad at this guy! she blocked him already!! leave her alone!

jade blocking karkat again after just a few messages back and forth

from karkats pov this is quite funny.

like this is the entirety of this conversation. jade is already tired of him from conversations karkat hasnt had yet, and karkat is not getting off to a great foot!

i wonder if the way blocking works is that ... karkat wasnt blocked bc from his perspective he hadnt been blocked yet?? does that even work? what kinda paradox is this man ok. thats enough lingering on a 2 minute long conversation.

-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] -- EB: karkat!!! EB: hey buddy, you were making me worried there... EB: are you ok? CG: WHAT IN THE NAME OF SWEET GLOBE TICKLING FUCK. CG: EGBERT, I JUST GOT DONE ERUPTING A WHOLE VOLCANO OF MERCILESS FUCK YOU ON THE PRIMITIVE VILLAGE LOCATED SQUARELY ON YOUR CROTCH. CG: ASSUMING THAT'S A SUITABLY TERRIBLE PART OF HUMAN ANATOMY FOR A VILLAGE IN JEOPARDY TO EXIST.

karkat receives a message from john out of nowhere. understandably, he is confused to receive such a caring check-in, given how their last conversation went.

CG: SHUT UP. HOW DARE YOU CONTACT ME WHILE I'M IN THE MIDDLE OF MY BACKWARDS MARCH OF HATE THROUGH YOUR TEDIOUS TIMELINE. EB: oh god, this is not right! EB: you aren't supposed to hate me anymore, you're supposed to be kinda my friend, sorta! EB: when is this? CG: WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHEN IS THIS CG: OK, LET ME JUST CHECK THE UNIVERSAL CLOCK WHICH KEEPS CONSISTENT TIME FOR ALL FRAMES OF REFERENCE AND ALL PLANES OF REALITY. CG: IT'S HALF PAST YOU'RE A MORON. EB: ok, duh! i know that. EB: i mean, how many times have you talked to me before? CG: WE JUST GOT DONE WITH OUR SECOND CONVERSATION. HOW CAN YOU NOT KNOW THIS? EB: AUGH! EB: this isn't good, i need to talk to future you! CG: WHY EB: because it sounds like you're in trouble. EB: i think maybe you are running from jack? CG: OF COURSE WE'RE RUNNING FROM JACK, I JUST GOT DONE FUCKING TELLING YOU THAT.

everyone here is equally frustrated with the inconsistent timelines! karkat took a quick break to yell at jade that was interrupted by her blocking him and followed up by karkat getting these messages from a john looking for a future version of karkat. from karkats pov, these strike me as a bit ominous! obviously theyve already hidden from jack, but john makes it sound like he catches up and finds them. if i were karkat id be getting pretty worried abt what the future holds--not that theres much help in trying to avoid it!

EB: ultimate riddle shit? CG: I CAN TELL THIS CONVERSATION IS GOING TO BE A UTTER FUCKING JOY TO PARTICIPATE IN. CG: I HONESTLY ENVY ANYONE IN THE POSITION OF NOT HAVING TO PUT UP WITH READING IT. CG: BUT YOU ASKED FOR IT, JOHN, SO HERE WE GO. CG: ARE YOU READY EB: no, i just want to talk to future you. :( CG: NO YOU DON'T CG: TAKE IT FROM ME CG: THE GUY IS A BASTARD.

karkat starts attempting to make a point...but then makes the idiots boner of jumping back to troll a john...lets see...over 1500 pages in the past!

CG: SEE THIS IS A CASE IN POINT. EB: what point? CG: THE POINT I WAS JUST MAKING. CG: ABOUT THE ULTIMATE RIDDLE. CG: YOU BLITHERING FECULENT SHITHOLE. [...] EB: so what was the "case in point" you were making, anyway? CG: I WAS SCROLLING BACK AND NOTICED YOU WERE IN THE VEIL. EB: whoa, i am? CG: YEAH DUMBDUMB, YOU'RE TUMBLING AROUND ON A BIG GODDAMN METEOR.

seriously though karkat, what were you trying to achieve with that jump? im starting to think you might just be a bit of a dumbass on top of the shenanigans. maybe take another nap? you could really use the sleep!

EB: hey, i have an idea. EB: why don't you get back to me in a few minutes? EB: i mean like a few minutes of my time, not yours. EB: all of these little pink monkeys are getting way out of line and i have to tend to them. EB: if you message me in a couple minutes, we can continue conversing in a sane, linear fashion for a change! CG: UM, OK?

such a reasonable and logical idea!!! how about you try it?

CG: OK IT'S A FEW MINUTES LATER. CG: LOOK HOW SANE AND LINEAR WE ARE BEING. EB: yeah! CG: OK AWESOME, NOW FUCK YOU AND GOODBYE.

karkat...you strange little boy... how you enchant me.

CG: JOHN EGBERT, YOU HAVE ASSASSINATED MY PATIENCE. CG: ADIOS LOSER. EB: wait!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! EB: get back to me in a couple minutes, ok? CG: SD;LKFJSD;LKFJSDLFKJ; CG: FINE.

SO ASTOUNDED BY THE MERE SUGGESTION OF MAINTAINING LINEARITY!

cmon, karkat, i believe in you! you can do it! keep this up!

you are doing so well bestie.

EB: what happens in our game that's different from yours that makes things go so badly? CG: JACK NOIR. EB: who is jack noir? CG: AN AGENT OF DERSE. CG: WHO FLIPPED OUT AND ROSE TO POWER. CG: HE KILLED YOUR BLACK QUEEN AND KING AND NOW HE'S IN CHARGE. EB: so you didn't have him in your game? CG: NO, WE DID. CG: BUT HE WAS HARMLESS. CG: ACTUALLY, HE WAS AN ALLY, SORT OF.

he stabbed you, karkat. multiple times. but sure, "harmless" is fine.

CG: THE WORST IS YET TO COME. CG: FOR YOU. EB: oh no! EB: what is the worst thing? CG: ALREADY TOLD YOU. EB: dammit!

(psst. john. your sisters god dog is gonna give him some nasty powerups.)

and back we go again. nevermind about being in a reasonable order i guess!

CG: I KEEP SCROLLING BACKWARDS THROUGH YOUR ADVENTURE. CG: TRYING TO PIECE TOGETHER HOW YOU BOTCH THIS UP SO BADLY. CG: AND I KEEP FINDING THESE STRIKING POCKETS OF FOOLISHNESS. CG: LIKE WHAT YOU'RE DOING NOW. CG: RIDING YOUR LITTLE RED ROCKET.

for a lot of this, his trolling order isnt even "oh i fucked up and embarrassed myself time to jump back again and start fresh!" its literally just him being a sleep-deprived dumbass jumping to random points he comes across and thinking every single time that for some reason it wont be a fucking nightmare to attempt a conversation with john!

TIMELOOP PARADOX PRANK!!!!

EB: well, we're friends by then, aren't we? EB: or sort of like, uh, reverse anti-mutual friends. CG: WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT EVEN MEAN. EB: look, you're going to have to face it at some point... EB: that you're learning the meaning of this human emotion called friendship. CG: IS FRIENDSHIP REALLY AN EMOTION? EB: yes, absolutely.

friendship isnt an emotion, fucknuts!

CG: SO GO AHEAD, ASK ME ANYTHING. EB: ok... EB: what's the point of the game. CG: ASK SOMETHING ELSE. CG: ALREADY TOLD YOU THAT. CG: IT WAS THIS WHOLE BIG CONVERSATION WE HAD. EB: augh!

"ask me anything" (asks question) "no not that" teenage boys. am i right.

EB: where are you now? CG: IN THE MEDIUM. CG: A SEPARATE SESSION FROM YOURS. EB: no no, i know that! EB: you already told me. CG: I DID? EB: yes, in your future. CG: DAMMIT.

see karkat? how does it feel?

EB: derse? CG: THE DARK PLANET. CG: PROSPIT'S THE LIGHT ONE NEAR SKAIA. EB: well jeez, how am i supposed to know any of this?? CG: YOU'D PROBABLY FIND OUT SOONER OR LATER FROM YOUR DUMB GRANDMA. CG: BUT BY FUSING WITH THE SPRITE SHE HAS TO WITHHOLD STUFF AND BE MYSTERIOUS AND ALL. CG: TO MAKE YOUR ADVENTURE SEEM MORE "MAAAAAAGICAL!!!!" CG: IT'S INFURIATING

we dont get to see a lot of the trolls' session (compared to the kids', hardly any) and only catch a few glimpses of ... crabdadsprite? karkat sure makes it sound like hes speaking from experience. what sort of secrets did he have to pry from his crabdad? i would love to see his frustration there lmao.

i will give him this, though: hes actually been pretty helpful in this conversation! he gave john a ton of new information and all.

CG: I'M OUT OF HERE. EB: ok, but wait... EB: can you give a message to GC for me? EB: tell her nice try. CG: WHAT CG: WHY WOULD I GIVE HER A MESSAGE FOR YOU CG: DO IT YOURSELF, I'M NOT A RELAY SERVICE. EB: oh, well i thought you'd be cool with it since you asked me to give her a message for you last time. EB: but whatever.

"last time" being in karkat's future, i suppose.

CG: I FIND THAT HIGHLY IMPLAUSIBLE. CG: I'M NOT FALLING FOR ANY MORE OF YOUR HUMAN PRANKS. CG: "NICE TRY" JOHN CG: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

and on to the next conversation, where important discussions on con air are taking place:

EB: no, it's about these criminals on a runaway plane, and they've got to be stopped by nick cage and john cusack together as a team. CG: OH. CG: OK, THAT ACTUALLY SOUNDS PRETTY GOOD I GUESS. EB: it is sweet, so sweet, you would probably like it. CG: I'VE HEARD OF JOHN CUSACK I THINK. CG: WASN'T HE IN SERENDIPITY? CG: THAT WAS PRETTY GREAT FOR A HUMAN FLICK.

isnt it lovely, this disease called friendship?

EB: hahaha, oh man, that sucked so bad! CG: OK I DON'T SEE HOW WE'RE SUPPOSED TO BE BECOMING FRIENDS IF YOU RECOIL FROM MY OLIVE BRANCH LIKE I'M WIGGLING A GNARLED TREE MONSTER'S DICK IN YOUR DIRECTION.

... and thus the blossoming friendship collapses like a house of cards.

EB: well, i've got one of your godly players helping me now, so we can't be in such bad shape. CG: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT. EB: GC gave me a map. EB: and showed me a shortcut. CG: WHAT THE HELL IS SHE DOING. CG: THIS ISN'T WHAT WE TALKED ABOUT DOING AT ALL. CG: HOLD ON LET ME ASK HER ABOUT THIS... EB: ok.

now what could this human egbert be up to?

CG: OK... CG: NOW SHES JUST OVER THERE GIGGLING AT ME LIKE AN IMBECILE. CG: WHAT ARE YOU TWO UP TO, WHY ARE YOU IN CAHOOTS NOW? EB: umm... CG: OW FUCK!!! CG: OK SHE JUST WALKED OVER AND PUNCHED ME. CG: AND SAID IT WAS FROM YOU. EB: uh, sorry i guess?

not totally relevant but pitch johnkatrezi is really funny. can you imagine.

EB: i don't know why you guys are doing this to yourselves. EB: all this time jackassery, it's giving me a headache.

now that is exactly what i have been saying!

CG: OK IF YOU TALK TO HER AGAIN WHEN SHE TRIES HATCHING MORE PLANS GIVE HER A MESSAGE INTO THE PAST FOR ME. EB: ok.

now karkat...didnt you JUST say you would NEVER resort to relaying a message through john? i think you might need a good nights sleep! that month of no sleep really explains just about everything he does throughout this backwards convoluted trolling quest.

CG: TELL HER TO POLISH MY HEAVING BONE BULGE AND SET A TABLE FOR FUCKING TWO ON IT. CG: ITS FOR OUR CANDLE LIGHT HATE DATE.

the idea of a candlelight hate date is so fucking funny. i think one of those candles just might get used as a weapon.

EB: oh, did you talk to jade yet? CG: JADE, WHAT WHY WOULD I WANT TO TALK TO HER? EB: ummm, that's what you said you wanted to do last time you talked to me, i dunno. CG: OH DAMMIT. CG: ARE YOU SURE?

oh shit, is the timeline extension busted? i think we already saw that conversation, is it not supposed to happen yet? if i figure out the proper chronology, ill come back and edit this or something! whatever.

EB: but next time you talk to me, you might want to tell me to calm down first so i don't just block you.

lets see how that goes...

CG: HEY JOHN. CG: CALM THE HELL DOWN. EB: aaaaaauuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuggghhhhhhhh!!!!!!! EB: how did you find me????? CG: FIND YOU? CG: WHAT DO YOU MEAN. EB: i changed my chum handle to ditch you guys.

so i guess this is one of the first conversations (or THE first?) they have from johns point of view, since john changed his chumhandle when terezi was trolling him a while before the events of the story!

EB: ok, this time i'll believe you that you aren't human. EB: because the skepticism center of my brain is starting to wear kind of thin i guess. EB: but you're still a major asshole and i don't actually want to talk to you, so bye. CG: WAIT. CG: BUT I'M NOT HERE TO TROLL YOU THIS TIME. CG: WE'RE FRIENDS OK? EB: hahahahahaha! EB: oh man, look at this outburst of little human words i'm saying! EB: from my human mouth!

yknow its pretty funny how the dynamic has turned on its head. now karkat is insisting they are friends while john responds more angrily!

CG: IT'S REALLY WEIRD. CG: THIS HUMAN EMOTION YOU CALL FRIENDSHIP. EB: friendship isn't an emotion fucknuts.

karkat- lets be friends and beat this game together john- ermmmmm no!

EB: i'm still not really sold on this friendship thing yet. EB: but i've got to go now and get on with my petty little quests. EB: so talk to you in the future i guess. EB: jerkface.

shouldnt have sent him all that hatemail karkat! look where it got you now!

[wooyoungisbaby]

whah new chapter so soon!! :DD you’re a fucking champ!!!! 

Oh gosh… A few paragraphs in, my stomach dropped when i realized what was going on (/pos). I just remembered what this chapter was teased to be about, and…. Im already in pain :) again, /pos. im picking sannie up in my hands and smooching him like hes a wet, scared kitten. He’s just going through the motions of checking on his partners and taking care of them, but he’s so far away T_T 

they were the right kind of sobs, right?

Of course they were, silly!!! ;o; @ woo and reader, please reassure him asap !!!!

You are different from… from…

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

You are his responsibility, not the other way around.

SCREAMING!!!! Sannie baby it goes both ways! ;o; Gahhh im so invested in his happiness wtf igby<3 He was Just having a good time, giving his partners and himself what they wanted, and now his brain is being mean to him!! :’( 

You had a perfect view of the utter bliss stretched across Wooyoung’s face, tongue lolling out as San kept his head yanked back by the hair.

..okay, you’re forgiven bc this is a delicious mental image hdnhsjhjshd

San does not resist when you pull him into a back-hug, numbly letting himself get manoeuvred

His willingness to go along with this when he was in his aftercare role just seconds ago, says so much about how much he needs care and reassurance. 

San swallows thickly, looking strangely small in your arms. 

The way it’s SO easy to imagine this T_T He’s such a good dom and such a pillar for the other two in this story, and it’s easy to forget that he’s also a human with needs and limits and fears. And a past. 

[...] along with a small twinge of something more complicated. 

Insecurity (or jealousy?) that they know each other better than either of them knows her? Just thinking out loud eheh

“Seriously, the lengths I have to go to to get fed properly around here,”

I SNORTED 😂

“We look after each other around here. What’d you do if it was me or Wooyoung?” “…I’d look after you.”

YES TELL HIM!!!! I love it when a situation like this is turned on its head. I can hear San thinking “it’s not the same” but IT IS 👏

There is nothing cheeky about San’s gaze this time.

😭 ♥️

He’d just sidled up to the bedroom with Byeol in his arms, thinking to provide San some extra company.

This guy!! Always plotting and scheming. To do good, but still. 

Well, same difference, really.

Yeah, i was about to say pfff <3

There is a light pout on San’s face and he snores softly

he’s so cute im gonna throw up hjhsahdddhd

“San is just— um—” “Ah.”

oh he knows xD

[...] waking him with a few gentle nips of teeth.

Woo really bit him awake, menace that he is <3

“Hey. Good morning.”

There is something weirdly adorable about a guy being so self-conscious about his morning wood when he’s had his dick inside your body’s horny trinity of holes more times than you care to count.

First of all, love the way you phrased all this 😂 Secondly, YEAH this is Choi San we’re talking about,, he’s polite and respectful. Humble and kindness, even. 

“Yeah,” San says quietly. “Want to be taken care of.”

brb walking into traffic due to an urgent case of San Is Too Precious

Igbyyyy oh my goOdnhjjd  this part where they’re only just starting to, err, take care of San. there’s something white-hot but light inside my chest seeing him like this, it’s just like. relief? also hornie, you know how it is. 

(maybe it's just that i'm getting to put my own brain into San for once, in this fic? That's how my brain works btw, it puts itself into whoever is the sub and/or bottom in a fic and i perceive the fic as though i am them. or something like that?)

and soon he’s writhing between you and Wooyoung, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.

cartoon-style, there’s a volcano on top of my head and baby it is erupting. 

“Such a good boy you are for us,” Wooyoung coos at San

nvm i am actually an ice cube being dropped into a furnace. which is to say, melting. 

“Want me to edge you? Would you like that, Sannie?”

my birthday was two days ago, what is this?? A treat of edging? foR ME?? 

[...] he just doesn’t know what to do with himself if he’s not making us feel good.”

>:3c there are remedies for that. by which i mean.. tying him up so he doesn’t have any way to reciprocate. ✨

[...] wanna be good…” A thick tear escapes San’s lashes, streaking down his puffy cheek.

igbyyyy 😭 he’s CRYING!! in the best way possible, this is tearing me tf apart hhhhh He must have needed this really bad >< 

San makes a strangled noise, shaking his head like he’s embarrassed to say it out loud, but eventually stammers, “T-tits.”

[insert the cartoon volcano head again] No seriously im fucking ascending  hjfnhjhf

He melts into the bed with a shuddered breath, like the thought of pushing back does not even occur to him.

i know he’s mainly a dom in this dynamic but he’s actually such a perfect and wonderful sub that i might cry 

Just a funny little anecdote from a previous fandom i was in: me and some pals™ became obsessed with a 3way ship and made up many kinky scenes for them, one of which resulted in me adding the white card “edging a guy and then coming on his tits” to our custom Cards Against Humanity deck. And this scene reminded me of that :3 

[...] until San is trembling, so lost in pleasure he no longer has the presence of mind to respond to your kiss. 

Im standing on my balcony, looking to the horizon. The sun is rising, casting everything i can see in warm light, the wind tickling me as it sweeps through my hair. Everything is calm and quiet, only a few people far below me up at this hour, no doubt heading for early morning shifts. An lone owl bids the night farewell with a deep coo. For a beat i stand here, taking in the tranquility of the world. I inhale deeply, greedy for the crisp air. On the exhale, i scream as loud as i possibly can. “Choi san is a sub!” The owl takes off, terrified. A guy i don’t know looks up at me, seemingly unsure if he should be concerned or just pissed off. He decides on the latter. “Shut the fuck up, it’s 7am!” he yells back. I care not. I have to speak my truth and the universe will listen. 

“Don’t think so lowly of yourself, Woo,” you huff. “I also use you for your cooking.”

hJDNFJSDH SCREAMING 😂

San brightens like the sun breaking through cloudcover, delighted at your ‘use’ for him.

He’s a big fuckin teddy bear, SO happy to be used for his hugging skills. He’s adorable. 

“I could help out more, you know. Move in, share the load. The laundry load.”

SCREAMING????? 

share the load.

Ayyyy 😉

I dont have a brain rn im afraid, so no closing thoughts aside from AAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

whichever way [woosan x reader] pt11

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, fluff, angst, neighbours au, FWB to QPR

ch. summary: San drops, but you and Wooyoung are here to catch him.

wc: 7.8k

ch. warnings for opening scene: dom drop, dirty talk, degradation kink & hair pulling (@ Wooyoung), dumbification (@ reader), pussy slap, anal & vaginal sex, angst, anxiety spiral abt hurting one’s partners

warnings for the rest of the chapter: hurt / comfort, sub San, soft dom duo Wooyoung & reader, somnophilia if you squint, sleepy morning sex, titty worship (@ San), hand / blowjob, orgasm denial, thigh riding, cum shot (chest @ San), cum eating / sharing, praise kink, San is called ‘good boy’

a/n: features a soft-bodied, aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns. mention of stretch marks.

a/n²: barely proofread bc my brain is being a lil bratty bastard man abt editing

masterlist. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

“Can’t even fuck her right, can you Woo? Can’t do anything with that pussy without my help.”

Gently, San undoes the two handcuffs that bound each of Wooyoung’s wrists to yours. His eyes scan over Wooyoung’s skin for abrasions, but San struggles to pay his full care and attention to the task. His mind refuses to stay in the moment, instead rewinding the night’s events, over and over again like a broken tape-player. The images grow more distorted with every replay.

His muscles still burn from the force with which he’d rammed into Wooyoung from behind, who’d been on top of you. Every harsh slam of San’s hips had buried Wooyoung’s cock deeper into you, indirectly fucking you with his ruthless pace.

“You’re decent with that smart mouth, Woo, but we both know it’s my cock she likes better. Isn’t that so, baby?”

You had whined, too fucked out to answer.

“Aw look at her trying to spare your feelings. Sweet thing. Or maybe she’s just fucked too dumb to think. Any cock will do now, even yours.”

Had you really been too fucked out to answer? What if you had been too unwilling? Filled with guilt at the thought of picking one over the other — even if it was just for play, only to rile Wooyoung up.

San blinks, trying to get his vision focused. Sweat-matted hair clings to his forehead, unpleasantly sticky and prickling at his eyes. The fabric of his robe feels strangely scratchy against his skin, making it hard to concentrate while his thumbs press into your wrist, stimulating your blood-flow on pure auto-pilot.

“You like that, baby? Like it when I fuck you with Wooyoung’s cock? Much better than letting him fumble on his own. At least I know how to treat that tight cunt.”

Wooyoung had sobbed at the humiliation — they were the right kind of sobs, right? Wooyoung knows San didn’t mean it?

It had all felt good in the moment, but now doubt slithers into San’s memories, a dark chill creeping up his spine. Had he gone too far in degrading Wooyoung, crossing the line of cruel pleasure into simple cruelty? Had he made the wrong move by trying to rope you into his debasement of Wooyoung?

There’s a weird static in San’s ears. Vaguely he hears someone praising him, telling him he did so well; but the words can’t connect to him. They don’t fire off positive neurons in his brain, don’t bring the reassurance he so craves.

‘Did they really want it?’ a low insidious voice whispers to San instead. ‘What if they are just going along with what you pushed on them?’

San frowns. No; you and Wooyoung explicitly consented to all this beforehand. Neither of you are in the habit of neglecting your own safety in a misguided attempt to spare his feelings. You would have told him if anything felt bad. You are different from… from…

He shakes his head, trying to shake off the static. You and Wooyoung would have been honest, he stubbornly tells himself. That much he can trust on — right? Right? San’s frown deepens as he tries to look at you, his eyes shaky. You look so tired…

A cold void presses up against the inside of San’s ribcage, and he stiffens in sudden recognition, finally understanding what is happening to him.

No. Nonono. This can’t happen. Not right now. He can’t drop now. He has take care of you and Wooyoung first. You are his responsibility, not the other way around. It shouldn’t be the other way around. If he can’t even take care of his partners then—

“San? Are you okay?”

The question comes from far away. Again, he’s not sure who is asking it. San forces himself to smile. No, wait, he’s not smiling. Shit. Shit.

A beautiful soreness has settled in your body, lingering memories clinging to your muscles. You had a perfect view of the utter bliss stretched across Wooyoung’s face, tongue lolling out as San kept his head yanked back by the hair. Overwhelmed by San’s harsh pace and words, by fucking you while being fucked; yet always hungry for more, deliberately wiggling his ass when San told him to keep still, or shamelessly talking back at him.

You’re convinced that just the rough, haphazard thrusts of Wooyoung would have been enough to make you cum, more than enough when combined with the entrancing sight of him and San entangled; but it certainly didn’t hurt when San reached a hand around Wooyoung’s waist to thrum at your clit. He’d even smacked the oversensitive nub, with just enough force to send you straight into one of the most intense orgasms you’ve had in recent weeks.

You could happily stay submerged in those memories for hours to come, but the pleasant haze of the aftermath fades quickly when San massages your wrists — and you suddenly realise something is off.

He looks tired, which is not unusual after an intense session, but somehow it’s the wrong kind of tired. His eyes are unfocused, and although he’s taking perfect care of you, there is none of the usual warmth of his attentive glow. Like he is just going through the motions. San never just goes through the motions.

A dread sinks into your stomach as a grim suspicion flits through your mind.

“San? Are you okay?”

Wooyoung, who had been drinking some water, looks up before San even registers that you asked him something.

San’s brow furrows, the skin around his eyes tightening. He faintly shakes his head, and you can’t be sure if that’s meant to be an answer to your question or just an involuntary motion, but it’s an answer either way.

Your heart flinches.

“Woo?” you say, deliberately keeping your voice calm. San does not resist when you pull him into a back-hug, numbly letting himself get manoeuvred as you wrap your arms around him, holding him tightly against your chest. “I think San’s—”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung says, already by your side with a bottled electrolyte drink and an energy bar. “Hey, Sannie,” he murmurs gently, brushing San’s hair off his forehead. “What’s wrong? Too much today?”

San swallows thickly, looking strangely small in your arms. Tension pours out of his body — but it’s too fast, like he is emptying himself of everything, deflating in your embrace until only a hollow shell is left. There’s an odd, glassy shine to his eyes as he looks from you to Wooyoung.

“Are— are you okay?” San manages to ask weakly. “Are you hurt? Did— did I—?”

His uncertain voice pierces your chest, deep and sharp.

“No, we’re not hurt.” You plant a firm kiss on his limp shoulder, tightening your hold on him. “We’re fine, Sannie,” you murmur past the sudden lump in your throat, pressing another kiss on the side of his head. “No one is hurt, you made us feel so good.”

San lets out a pained whine, like he tries to shrink away from the positive affirmation.

“Hey, hey, listen,” Wooyoung says, gentle but firm, tipping up San’s chin so their eyes meet. “San, it was exactly what I wanted out of this. Are you hearing me? You did nothing we didn’t want.”

He is adamant in his reassurance, aimed at San’s deepest insecurity with pin-point precision, and San manages to take a deep breath.

“I— I hear you,” he says, giving a shaky nod.

Relief floods through you when Wooyoung’s words achieve what yours could not; along with a small twinge of something more complicated. You don’t linger on that twinge, centering your attention on San instead.

You help San to drink a few sips of water, and Wooyoung tears open the energy bar’s wrapper, breaking off a few bite-sized pieces.

Wooyoung keeps up his steady stream of reassurances, while you decide to focus on grounding San through physical touch. Better to let Wooyoung handle the talking on this one, clearly. One of your arms is wrapped securely around San’s narrow waist, freeing up your other hand to gently caress over the slight trembles running through his body.

You’ve never seen San go through dom drop this hard, this fast. He’s had to shake off a light funk, and you do vividly remember the one time San came by your place a whole day afterwards, a belated response to the scene. He’d been clingy and despondent, wanting to hold you and be held; and you had done exactly that, much like you are holding him now.

Together, you and Wooyoung weave a bright, warm protective bubble around San, nursing the bruises of his fall. His deflated spirit is slowly replenished with your caring attentions, helped along by the energy bar and electrolytes. Soon there is only a crumpled wrapper and an empty bottle left, but you and Wooyoung are still there.

Still protecting him from himself.

Finally San settles into your hold, eyes fluttering shut with a sigh when your nails gently scrape over his scalp.

“That’s it, rest up,” Wooyoung says with a soft smile and an even softer shine in his eyes. “We got you. Feeling a little better?”

San nods sluggishly, exhaustion radiating from his every pore as he sinks a little deeper into you.

Wooyoung chuckles as he watches San curl up against you, and rubs an affectionate hand over San’s thigh. “But not back completely, are you? Hmm, what do you need?” He taps his bottom lip in thought, the question more to himself than to San; then an idea brightens up his eyes. “How about I make you some proper food, get something warm in that stomach? Sound good?”

San makes a vaguely ‘yes’-shaped noise, tiredly smiling up at Wooyoung.

“Alright, then I’ll handle that, okay Sannie? Just means I got to step into the kitchen for a minute, but you won’t be alone.” Wooyoung’s eyes flicker up to you, giving you a quick wink. “I am leaving you in very capable hands. Give you two a chance to chat, hm?”

Before you even get the chance to offer whipping up a meal instead (after all, Wooyoung is the resident expert at helping San through a drop, not you), Wooyoung is on his feet and pulling on some clothes.

“I’ll leave the door open, alright? Just give a shout if you need me, I’ll be back like that,” he says, snapping his fingers. Wooyoung leans in to give San a last kiss on the cheek, sweet with a tint of playfulness, then steps away out of the bedroom.

It’s just you and San now.

You take in a deep breath and then release it, squeezing your arms a little tighter around San. “Look at you, getting a home-made meal out of this. Lucky guy,” you try to joke, poking his cheek.

San’s shoulders shake lightly with a quiet laugh. “Seriously, the lengths I have to go to to get fed properly around here,” he sighs, looking up at you with an exaggerated pout. But San can’t hold on to the lighthearted moment, his pout fading into a pained wince. “Sorry about all this. Never meant to cause trouble.”

“San, don’t you dare apologise!” you gently scold him. “We look after each other around here. What’d you do if it was me or Wooyoung?”

“…I’d look after you.”

“Yeah you would. You always do,” you press on. “And you wouldn’t let us call it ‘trouble’ either.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” San sighs, admitting defeat. “No apologies.”

But knowing he doesn’t have to be sorry, and actually not feeling sorry, are two very different beasts — and it’s pretty clear which one San’s dealing with. Something sharp pinches in your chest as you remember what San stammered out in distress.

“Are you hurt? Did— did I—?”

Is that still on his mind? Does he really think he could ever…?

“San, do you even—”

The words catch in your throat as you catch San’s eyes. They’re no longer hollowed out, but there is a vast ocean of emotion behind them — and San is in safe waters for now, but all it takes is one dangerous wave for him to be pulled under again.

You won’t let him. You won’t.

“San,” you say again, your voice steadier this time. It’s disquieting, how a man with such wide shoulders can look so small. “I always feel so safe with you, you know that?”

He nods, smiling faintly. “I know,” he says, but there is not enough conviction behind it to your liking.

“And do you also know,” you say with an exaggerated sigh, wrapping your legs around San’s waist, “how nervous I was when we had that first negotiation, back when we started this whole thing? It was just you and me, and I still felt so fucking embarrassed about barging in on you and Woo. I was this close to skipping town and starting my whole life over in a new country.”

San can’t help a chuckle. (You’re taking it as a victory.) “Knew you were nervous. Didn’t know it was that bad.”

“Oh yeah, it was that bad for sure,” you laugh breathily, patting San’s chest. “Only thing holding me back was that I couldn’t decide on a new identity. So many options!”

“What, that was the only thing?” San asks, and gives you a cheeky side-eye despite his exhaustion.

“Eh, maybe there was this pair of hotties that had something to do with it too,” you tease, dramatically rolling your eyes at San before you go serious again. “But that’s not the point. The point is… all of those nerves were gone by the time I walked out the door. Because of you.”

There is nothing cheeky about San’s gaze this time.

“You made me feel so at ease, like I could trust you with anything,” you say quietly, ignoring the prickle behind your eyes when San leans his head against your shoulder, nuzzling into you. “Like I’d always be safe with you, no matter what — and you’ve proven me right every damn day since then.”

A serene hush follows as San quietly takes hold of your words. He no longer looks adrift in the ocean, pulled along by a new current that carries him safely ashore.

It’s a comfortable silence — until a light mrrp comes from the doorway, announcing Byeol’s arrival.

“Hey look, reinforcements are here,” you joke while Byeol pads over to the foot of the bed. For a moment you only see the swish of her dark tail, then she hops onto the bed, sheets lightly scrunching underfoot as she makes a direct line towards San. A cat on a mission.

You untangle your legs from San’s waist to give Byeol a comfy spot to lie down in. San smiles softly as the Thai cat circles a few times in his lap, bumping her head against your hand before she settles in. Contently, she kneads biscuits into San’s robe, and starts purring loudly when he gently scritches at her exposed, fluffy tummy.

You sit like that for a while; with San patting Byeol while you idly run your fingers through his hair, like a little braid train of affection. It’s quiet, comfortable, minutes passing by unhurried until the silence is finally broken by San.

“…I think I’m alright now,” he says, his smile steady, and a shimmer in his eyes that isn’t underlined with distress. “Thanks. For being here.”

“Anytime, Sannie,” you say, resting your forehead against his temple. “Whatever you need, we got you.”

“Damn right we do,” a sudden voice says from the door opening.

You blink in surprise when you see Wooyoung leaned against the frame, watching you and San. He is slightly obscured by shadows in the dimmed bedroom, but his smile shines through brightly; how long has he been standing there?

“I always feel so safe with you, you know that?”

Wooyoung hadn’t meant to listen in. He’d just sidled up to the bedroom with Byeol in his arms, thinking to provide San some extra company. Then he caught a wisp of conversation, and thought it’d be better to hang back for a minute.

‘Hanging back’ isn’t usually Wooyoung’s style — and neither is leaving San’s side after a dom drop. But today, it just seemed like the right move. For San, and for you.

After all, Wooyoung hadn’t missed how quiet you went after San dropped.

It’s not that you weren’t taking good care of San; Wooyoung also hadn’t missed how you held onto him so tight he couldn’t slip out of reach if he tried. Soothing touches to keep San grounded in the room so he could hear the words Wooyoung was saying to him.

But San needed words from you too.

Wooyoung still isn’t sure why you took a backseat and let him take the lead; maybe you were shaken by seeing San like this — or maybe you were worried about saying the wrong thing? Well, Wooyoung definitely hadn’t worried about that. You’d find the words to say.

Now he quietly listens in as the words come to you, just like he’d known, with a dismantling sincerity against which San’s darker thoughts don’t stand a damn chance.

“—and you’ve proven me right every damn day since then.”

Wooyoung grins, giving himself a mental pat on the back for making the right call. He lowers Byeol to the ground and ushers her into the bedroom, then decides to give you and San just a moment longer.

He heads back into the kitchen to grab the little bowl of food he whipped up. Nothing grand or fancy, just some stir-fried kimchi with leftover rice, a quick fried egg on top.

Then Wooyoung finally slips inside the bedroom. He pauses at what he sees inside.

Fuck, he wishes he was holding a camera.

Something about the homely sight of you and San cuddled up with Byeol just looks… right.

San pats the Byeol with a calm, pensive expression. If Wooyoung knows anything about San, his mind is still lingering on the freshly imbued assurance from you and Wooyoung; that you never feel anything but safe and cared for with him. Gently he prods at the bauble of knowledge in his head, to make sure it doesn’t slip out of his grasp again.

It won’t — your hold on him is too secure for that.

You are sweetly playing with San’s hair, the strength of your devotion plainly written all over your face in bold all-caps letters. Wooyoung knows your affection for them is not romantically inclined, but god it’s so obvious that you care. You care so deeply.

As for the nature of his own inclinations, Wooyoung tries to not examine those too closely. It’s not like ‘conformity’ has defined a lot of his past relationships anyway. As far as he’s concerned, it’s more important how he acts on his wants and feelings, than how he labels them. And watching you and San together? He can hardly complain about how the three of you are acting on things now.

An unbidden smile curves around his lips at the soft intimacy on display, his stomach clenching oddly.

(It’s not jealousy, he tells himself.)

(Well. Maybe a little bit of jealousy, he quickly amends. Wooyoung is never one to pretend he does not want to be wanted.)

“…I think I’m alright now,” San says, and Wooyoung doesn’t realise he’d been lost in a daze until the words shake him out of it. “Thanks. For being here.”

“Anytime, Sannie,” you assure him, and Wooyoung warms at your smile. “Whatever you need, we got you.”

Ah, that seems like just the right opening. “Damn right we do,” Wooyoung says with a grin. “Got you some food, San. Want to come out, or eat it here?”

San perks up when he sees the bowl of food, but has no desire to get out of the bed yet; so you and San free up space for Wooyoung to join you instead. (His flinch of jealousy relaxes at this proof of want.)

Byeol is the only one who makes complaints, miffed at being ignored by San over a hot meal. But she is easily mollified when Wooyoung lifts her from San’s lap into his own, where his attentions soon have her purring contently again.

San makes an appreciative noise as he digs into the simple meal, his face scrunching up with every mouthful of food. While he empties out the bowl, you and Wooyoung catch each others’ eyes, exchanging a satisfied nod. San is alright now.

After the food is gone, San decides to take a cold shower, just for good measure to snap himself fully out of it. Wooyoung takes this opportunity to change the sheets, so he and San get to sleep with fresh linen tonight. You watch him with Byeol in your arms, taking your turn as kitty-custodian very seriously.

“Not gonna help me out here?” Wooyoung asks, giving you a massive side-eye just to be dramatic.

“I’m busy!” you counter, slightly raising Byeol up. “Hey, um.”

“Um?”

“I want to stay over tonight. Sleep here. If that’s alright with you and San.”

Wooyoung blinks at you in surprise, but quickly breaks out in a wide smile. That was about the last thing he expected you to say. “Yeah, of course!”

And so San and Wooyoung happily welcomed you into their bed — and not for a tumble between the sheets, for once.

It’s been a while since you last slept in the same bed with someone, let alone two someone’s, one of whom had pulled you into his firm chest, arms wrapped around you. (Bare arms. You had picked up some sleep clothes from home and Wooyoung has a comfy flannel pyjama set, but San apparently can’t sleep unless he’s wearing nothing but a pair of fitted boxers.)

You weren’t shocked to discover that San is a cuddler in bed; he’s prone to clinginess during the day, why would it be any different at night?

Tragically, the men’s company did not by some strange magic make this the best sleep you’ve had in years. As familiar as San’s bedroom is to you, as familiar as you are with the feel and scent of his and Wooyoung’s presence, you’re so unused to sharing your bedspace that instead of falling sound asleep, you drift in-and-out of a restless slumber.

No, you aren’t exactly convinced to make a regular habit out of this ‘staying overnight’ thing, but… for now? You really don’t care about any of that.

You’re not sure when you made the decision to sleep over; maybe it was two seconds before telling Wooyoung, maybe two seconds after you realised San was in trouble. You just know you want to be right next to San in the morning, so you can see with your own eyes if he is okay or if he needs anything. Your protective instinct is too strong to be thwarted by some mild discomfort.

The night passes, and finally you drift back into full consciousness with a faint beam of sunlight shining through a narrow slit in San’s blackout curtains. Shaking off your slumber, you faintly register that your face is pressed against two comfortable, firm pillows.

Ah wait. No. Not pillows.

San’s chest.

Well, same difference, really.

Somehow you’re more deeply entangled than you started out the night; San clings tightly onto you with a leg slung over your waist, and you can feel Wooyoung’s arms snaked around him in turn. There is a light pout on San’s face and he snores softly, his breath falling against the top of your head — which could have been endearing, if your mind hadn’t just cleared up enough to identify an out-of-place hardness pressed against your stomach.

Oh.

You hadn’t thought this far ahead, last night, but… yeah, makes sense.

Groggily you try to slip out of San’s arms without waking him, but you freeze up when he shifts and babbles something incoherent. His hold tightens on pure instinct; San is still knocked out in deep sleep.

For a moment you are caught in indecision, unsure what to do.

You’ve grown comfortable in your routines in this dynamic, but this lies outside those usual patterns. An old unease cranes its neck up at the break in routine; the worry that you trespassing on their relationship in a space that is not for you — but you firmly slap back those out-dated insecurities.

The reason why you’ve never been in this situation before is because of your boundaries, not theirs.

“Hey, are you getting up already?” a hoarse voice whispers from behind San when you shift to try and find a position where his dick doesn’t poke you right in the stomach. Wooyoung lifts his head, bleary dark eyes peeking up from above San’s slumbering figure. “We can sleep in, there’s no rush.”

“Not in a rush,” you whisper back. “San is just— um—”

“Ah.”

Judging by Wooyoung’s quick understanding, this must be a pretty common situation. His hand wanders down to brush over the crotch of San’s boxers, who sighs a moan even at the faint contact.

(The moan makes a compelling argument on why you might stay overnight more often after all.)

“So… the way I see it, we got two options,” Wooyoung murmurs, his voice thick with leftover sleep. “Either we rescue you from mister cuddle-monster’s grapple, or… we could wake Sannie up, see if he wants any help with that.”

His hand rests on San’s lower abdomen, not moving while he waits for your response.

You bite your lip, definitely not averse to lending San a hand, so to speak. “He’d be okay with that? With me too?”

“Only one way to find out,” Wooyoung says, giving you a languid grin, “but… let’s just say I have it on good authority that San will probably be more than okay.”

“‘Good authority’, huh?” you say, and a faint heat creeps under your skin at the implication they talked about this very scenario, about you. By now you’d think that they lost some of their ability to fluster you, but no, you don’t think you’ll ever build up a full immunity to the impact of San and Wooyoung. (You can’t really bring yourself to mind.) “Then… yeah.”

Wooyoung presses a kiss on the solid muscles of San’s shoulder, waking him with a few gentle nips of teeth.

“Nmhn, ‘Youngie?” San’s eyes flutter open, groggy and disoriented, but his confusion melts into a soft smile when he realises who he’s holding in his arms. “Hey. Good morning.”

“Good morning yourself,” you whisper. Even with everyone awake, somehow it still feels wrong to raise your voice too high in the darkened bedroom, with the faint chirrups of birds outside. “How’re you doing?”

San lets out a tired groan, shifting to stretch some of the sleep out of his body. But it’s not an unhappy groan, a distinctly feline curve to the edges of his smile. He turns his head to nuzzle at Wooyoung, while simultaneously pulling you back closer into him.

You can see the exact moment on San’s face where he wakes up enough to realise he’s pulled you right back against his half-hard boner.

“Shit, sorry—” he begins to stammer, but you gently shush him, pressing a finger to his lips.

“It’s okay, Sannie,” you assure him. “Seriously, it’s fine.”

(There is something weirdly adorable about a guy being so self-conscious about his morning wood when he’s had his dick inside your body’s horny trinity of holes more times than you care to count.)

“Actually,” Wooyoung chimes in, planting another kiss on San’s shoulder, “we were thinking…” His lips trail up San’s neck. “…how about we take care of that for you, hm?”

San draws in a shaky breath as Wooyoung palms his cock, putting light pressure on the crotch of his boxers. “Y-you already took care of me yesterday,” he protests, weakly. “You don’t have to—”

“We want to, San,” you say. “This isn’t out of obligation or anything.” You press a gentle kiss on his chest, then glance up to him. “So… what do you want?”

He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in the dim light. “Yeah,” San says quietly. “Want to be taken care of.”

That’s all Wooyoung needs to hear.

San lets out a shuddery sigh, mouth falling slack as Wooyoung starts moving his hand with slow, languid strokes.

For a moment you just watch them, savouring the sight of San, the biggest people pleaser you know, being pleased by Wooyoung. You always cherish these times, when the roles reverse and San lets himself go, lets go of responsibility and control. Reciprocating the trust you and Wooyoung always put in him.

“How’s that, Sannie?” Wooyoung asks, and there is also something equally worth savouring about the sight of him like this, doting and attentive to the person who so often attends to his every need. Wooyoung is greedy in bed, never shy about his many wants — but he is equally generous, giving all of himself to his partners.

“Hm, ‘s good…” San mumbles, wiggling lazily into Wooyoung’s chest.

You can’t keep your eyes off them, completely entranced by how San’s breaths slowly get heavier, soft moans blending into his exhales. His head lolls back against Wooyoung’s shoulder with a whine, exposing the tantalising column of his neck to you.

The magnetic pull of San’s bared throat is too strong to resist, the scattering of freckles there begging to be kissed.

San shudders as your lips gently press against the prominent mole just under his jaw. You take great care to lavish every speck on his star-clustered skin with attention, where you can feel his moans reverberate against your mouth.

Everything starts to melt together in the morning daze, bodies half-covered under the sheets as San rolls his hips into Wooyoung’s hand, gasping when you suck another kiss into his freckled neck. He holds your onto waist, more to steady himself than anything else, but his fingers dig in a little harder when you slowly move down to his chest.

San’s whines grow louder as your teeth graze against his nipple, flicking it with small kitten licks until you start to suck in earnest. His firm tits provide you with generous handfuls of meaty muscle, tensing under your palms as your hands squeeze at him.

Sometimes you’d almost forget just how incredibly sensitive San is, a fact often obscured by his complete control in the bedroom. Even the lightest touches are capable of driving him up the wall, and soon he’s writhing between you and Wooyoung, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.

“Such a good boy you are for us,” Wooyoung coos at San, teasing him with a good-natured grin. “Want me to edge you? Would you like that, Sannie?”

San turns his head to look at Wooyoung; there’s a wet gleam in his eyes, but he nods eagerly. “Want it, yeah.”

Wooyoung lifts his hand up to his mouth, doing his best to be covert as he spits into his palm, like he does not want to disturb the softness of the moment with something as crude as a little extra lubrication. He then reaches back under the covers — where San sucks in a sharp breath as Wooyoung slides his hand underneath the waistband of San’s boxers.

San groans, unable to stay still with two pairs of hands roaming over his body, and two mouths exploring just as eagerly. Wooyoung has replaced your lips on San’s neck, mouthing at a reddened mark you left earlier, while you suck a wet trail between his pecs.

San mewls when you thumb at his nipples, giving them a light pinch. His body jerks, but there is still a clear purpose to the way he shifts one leg forward, pressing his thigh against your clothed crotch.

It’s an unmistakable invitation, one that you are keen to accept.

You slowly start to grind on San’s thick thigh, the double fabric layer of your panties and sleep shorts dragging against your clit. It’s little more but a light burn, not enough to get you off, but you appreciate it all the same.

“So sweet, our Sannie,” you giggle. (For real, the biggest people pleaser you know.) “We are supposed to take care of you, remember?”

He whines in protest, pressing his thigh harder into your cunt while simultaneously pushing his ass back against Wooyoung. Another obvious invitation.

“Aw, he just can’t help himself, can you San?” Wooyoung rasps with a wicked smile. “He likes to pretend he’s a big ol’ meanie, but he just doesn’t know what to do with himself if he’s not making us feel good.”

San whines again, in agreement this time, squirming between you and Wooyoung.

“Already making me feel so good,” you sigh, softly kissing San’s flushed sternum. “Just feel that, all from getting to take care of you.”

You pry his hand from your waist, pushing it down your shorts and panties to let him swipe at the wetness clinging to your folds. He groans throatily and immediately tries to hone in on your clit — but you tsk and yank him back.

“Nuh-uh, Sannie,” you chide him gently. “That’s not how things work today. Just be here with us, that’s all we need you to do.”

“Th-then— wanna feel— ngh p-please, wanna—” San’s voice is choked up, his touch clumsy as he hooks his thumb underneath the waistbands of your clothes and tries to tug them down. “F-fuck, please—”

His desperation sears hotly through you, refusing to be denied. You shimmy out of your clothes and kick them off, now naked from the bottom down. The motion drags the covers further downward — and now you can actually see the obscene bulge in San’s boxers as Wooyoung jerks him off, the outline of his fist moving at a steady pace.

San’s breath hitches with every stroke, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears. Still babbling pleas at you, his hands kneading at your sides as he shoves his thigh back between yours. He glances at Wooyoung too, arching his back in a not-subtle reminder of what he needs.

“Shh, don’t move, Sannie,” you shush him, running a hand through his mussed up hair. “Just let us use you, that’s all you have to do.”

“Do it, please, do it, hmgh, wanna feel you make a mess on me, wanna be good…” A thick tear escapes San’s lashes, streaking down his puffy cheek.

“Aw, so polite for such a dirty boy,” Wooyoung teases fondly. There is nothing but pure adoration in his eyes as he lightly rolls his hips forward. “Asking us so nicely to cum all over you. Who could ever say no to that, hm?”

You certainly couldn’t. And so you lift your leg just enough for San’s thigh to slide neatly in-between, allowing him to feel the wet heat of your cunt right against the beefy muscle.

San bites his lip to try (and fail) to stifle a high-pitched whine as your arousal smears over him with every drag of your hips. He groans petulantly when Wooyoung stops stroking him, but it’s only so Wooyoung can take off his own pyjama pants, and tugs down San’s boxers just enough for his cock to smack wetly against his stomach.

Then Wooyoung’s fingers are wrapped around San’s thick length again and his eyes flutter shut, face contorting in pleasure as he struggles to keep still between the two bodies rutting against him. Wooyoung breathes heavily, moving his hand faster as he grinds into San’s backside.

“That’s it, Sannie, just a little more,” Wooyoung says, his voice tightly wound. “You’re getting close, aren’t you?”

“Mhm, y-yeah.” San is rapidly losing his restraint, his trimmed nails digging into the soft flesh of your waist, fingers slotted over your stretch marks. Whiny moans stumble off his lips in freefall, his thigh clenching under your clit as heady arousal fills the early morning air.

Earlier, you didn’t think you were going to cum. You’re not even really trying now, despite San’s request; too focused on your worship of his body. Languidly, you rub your clit against his flexing muscle, so distracted by teasing his nipples and sucking at the swell of his cleavage that you fail to realise how close you are getting yourself. The coiling pressure creeps up on you — but like a gear locking into place, you stumble on just the right angle and you’re so drunk on pleasing San and he’s whimpering and heat lances through your cunt and oh god—

Right as you are tipping over, Wooyoung takes his hand off San’s cock, denying him the very rush that is flooding your senses. You spasm against San, his choked up sob feeding into your pleasure as fresh slick leaks onto his leg. The slide against his glistening thigh is so easy by now, and you breathlessly ride out your high in the company of San’s snivelled whines.

“Where do you want me, Sannie?” Wooyoung asks with hard, raspy gasps, not far off from his own release. “Here? On your tits? Mouth?”

San makes a strangled noise, shaking his head like he’s embarrassed to say it out loud, but eventually stammers, “T-tits.”

Immediately, Wooyoung pushes San onto his back and straddles his thighs — one glossy with your slick. A thin, bright beam of sunlight falls right across San’s face and chest, highlighting the beautiful flush of skin, beads of sweat gathering on his brow and sternum. There are tear-streaks on his face, and a wet smear on his stomach where the tip of his cock rests, oozing pre-cum.

With Wooyoung snugly sitting in his lap, letting out rapid, pitched breaths as he jerks himself off with purposeful strokes, San’s instincts to be helpful bubble up again. He reaches to touch Wooyoung — but you quickly intervene, pinning San’s wrists above his head. It’s startlingly effective; San instantly goes lax under your hold. He melts into the bed with a shuddered breath, like the thought of pushing back does not even occur to him.

(A good thing, because there’s no doubt on your mind that San could easily break free. Eyeing the width of his biceps, you swear he must’ve been spending more time at the gym lately.)

“Keep those hands right where they are, mister,” you order playfully, grinning at San. “No touching.”

San sulks at you, but the gleam in his eyes gives him away. He’s clearly eating this whole thing up; half turned on and half amused by how you and Wooyoung have taken control. “Fine,” he pouts cutely. “I’ll behave.”

“Good boy,” you purr, immediately testing San’s obedience by releasing his wrists to wrap your hand around his cock. San hisses in sensitivity as you tease your thumb at the leaking slit, but he stays in place as ordered.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Wooyoung groans, drawing your attention back to him.

Like you, Wooyoung is only naked from the waist down. It looks a little silly, a little cute; domesticity dripping off him with his flannel pyjama top and sleep-mussed hair — all while he works himself up to a quick orgasm with the lewd squelches of his fist pumping his dick. Wooyoung bites his lip as he stares down at San, lying utterly pliant beneath him and just taking what you’re willing to give.

And what you give, is enough to get San whiny and squirming again, fighting not to buck into your hand; but not enough to let him cum before Wooyoung does.

Thankfully for him, Wooyoung does not need much longer.

Wooyoung leans forward, steadying himself with a hand on San’s hip. His breath comes out in sharp gasps, dark eyes transfixed on San’s heaving chest and the light bruises you’ve left scattered all over him. “S-so fucking good for us, Sannie,” he moans, a crack in his voice. “Ah, ‘m gonna— ah, fuck, ahh—”

His hips stutter as he grunts, nails digging into San’s waist to keep himself from doubling over as he shoots messy ropes of cum over San’s chest. Some reaching all the way up his neck, adding their white glisten to San’s flushed, sweaty skin. He hisses a curse that transforms into a low moan when you eagerly lap up a rivulet between his pecs, then follow a trail to his nipple.

Wooyoung pants heavily, his dark hair sticking to his face as he catches his breath. “Shit, you two…” he groans, watching how you leisurely mouth at San’s fevered skin, your hand still keeping a steady pace. “How about it, baby, shall we let Sannie have his turn now?”

San bites down a whimper, his back arching as his fingers dig into the mattress.

You hum in agreement and move your hand a little quicker. In contrast, you slowly work your way up San’s neck, pressing a few light kisses up his chin until you reach the corner of his mouth.

San knows exactly what you are offering him — and he greedily accepts, tilting his head to meet your lips full-on. He groans as you suck his tongue into your mouth, sharing his seed between you. The combination of cum and faint morning breath is not the most pleasant, but kissing San is always sweet regardless of taste.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung lends a helping hand (or rather, a mouth) by sliding down the bed and wrap his lips around San’s cockhead. He works his jaw with thick sweeps of his tongue, just tending to the tip while you handle the rest of San’s thick length.

You consume his every muffled curse, every strangled whine, until San is trembling, so lost in pleasure he no longer has the presence of mind to respond to your kiss. You suckle on his bottom lip and reach your hand further down to cup San’s balls and squeeze gently, unable to help a moan of your own when San lets out a broken sob at the touch.

“W-Woo— Wooyoung— I-I— Fuck—”

San tries to warn him — which Wooyoung only takes as an invitation to sink further down on his cock, throat bobbing as he swallows greedily.

Together you ease San through it, hands rubbing over his shivering body as he whines and convulses, bucking up into Wooyoung’s mouth, until all tension melts away. San relaxes into the bed, rendered boneless as he catches his breath. There is a dopey, tired smile on San’s face, and finally he reaches for you and Wooyoung, pulling you into his broad chest as he slowly recovers, perfectly content.

This time, it’s you who is changing the sheets.

“So, how was it? Sleeping over?” San asks when he walks back into the bedroom after freshening up. He looks none the worse for wear after yesterday’s ordeal, a renewed lightness to his shoulders as he towels off his damp hair.

You chuckle sheepishly. “Honestly? The sleeping part was kind of terrible,” you admit. “Nothing personal! Just not great with sharing blankets. But the waking up… Yeah, the waking up part was pretty damn amazing. And that is personal.”

“Knew it. You hear that Sannie? She’s only using us for sex,” Wooyoung jokes, pinching your side as he walks past behind you to grab his phone from the nightstand.

“Don’t think so lowly of yourself, Woo,” you huff. “I also use you for your cooking.”

“What about me?” San asks, giving you a playful pout. “Just sex then?”

You finish yanking off the sheets and gather it together into a bundle, then stand up straight, tapping your lip in thought. “Hmm…” you say, giving San a scrutinising look-over. “Hugs. You give good hugs.”

San brightens like the sun breaking through cloudcover, delighted at your ‘use’ for him. He immediately ambushes you from behind, arms wrapping tightly around your waist as he rubs his chin against your shoulder.

“Aish! Seriously?” Wooyoung complaints, and you yelp when he pinches your side a little harder this time around.

“You started it, you idiot,” you laugh, gently untangling yourself from San. You hand him the bundle of sheets, dirtied with sweat and slick, and grab a fresh set.

San sulks at the bed linen in his arms. “Can’t believe we had to change to change sheets again,” he grouses. “I have so much more laundry with you two around, it’s ridiculous.”

Wooyoung just snorts. “What are you talking about? Don’t try to put this on us, you’re the one who doesn’t believe in laying down a towel.��

“Don’t like the feel of them,” San mumbles through pursed lips. “Besides, those dang things always seem to shift out of place at the worst moment anyway. What’s the point, except even more laundry?”

You shake your head at his complaints, but it’s pure affection. Meanwhile, Wooyoung sidles up behind San and takes his turn hugging him. “I could help out more, you know. Move in, share the load. The laundry load.”

San blinks in surprise, turning his head to look at Wooyoung, while you look up curiously, pausing your task of wrangling sheets around the corner of the mattress. Is Wooyoung serious, or is this just his usual messing around?

But judging by his calm expression, Wooyoung is one hundred percent serious. He sways back and forth on the balls of his feet, rocking San in his hug — but his eyes are completely focused, watching for San’s reaction.

“I mean… you practically live here already,” San says, reaching back his arms to hold onto Wooyoung’s hips, steady him a little. “We’d just be making it official, right?”

“Yeah! That’s what I wanna do, make it official,” Wooyoung says, then catches you off-guard by turning to you. “How about it? How do you feel about getting me as your official neighbour?”

You let out an abashed laugh, already self-conscious to be in the room for this conversation between them, let alone involved. “Why are you asking me? I’m not the one you’re moving in with!”

Wooyoung shrugs. “Just felt right to check in,” he says, so matter-of-factly that the lump of awkwardness in your chest softens. He’s not treating your input on the matter like a laugh; and for a moment, you find yourself at a loss for how to respond. To be considered in a big life choice like this — a relationship choice — is not something that’s ever happened to you before.

A jumble of feelings bounces around in your chest; but they’re led at the helm by happiness, and a wide, giddy smile has curved around your lips before you even realise it’s happening.

Warmth bursts through your veins as you nod at San and Wooyoung, who’re both smiling back at you. “Yeah,” you say, feeling oddly shy. “I’d love to have you here, officially. Welcome home, Woo.”

[onestepbackwards]

Hiii! Can I please request Maxie, Guzma, and Kiawe with a S/O who is chaotic as all hell??? Thank u! Have a nice day and stay hydrated! :)

Hello! Thank you, I will make sure to do so! ♪(´▽｀) I hope you enjoy!

Maxie

-Help this man.

-He loves you. He really does. But sometimes he feels he’s going to go grey just from keeping you from doing something crazy.

“If we erupt a volcano, that will surely expand the land, right??”

-The idea has merit but he doesn’t want you to do that. You will die.

-More than once though he has had to pull you from fighting Team Aqua with your bare hands. He does this reluctantly though, and keeps you as his back up. He knows they fear you.

-More than once has nearly had a heart attack, thinking you have gone mission, only for you to show up sometime later in the base.

“Where were you?” “Oh, I fell asleep in the vents again.” “Wait, whAT DO YOU MEAN AGAIN?”

-More than once has had to bribe you with food just to stay still to keep you from wandering off. He knows if he loses sight of you, you would probably be causing trouble.

-Loves your passionate nature through it all though. It’s what caught his attention in the first place. So he deals with your chaos.

-Just let him rest every so often. He can only handle so many near heart attacks.

Guzma

-He REVELS in your chaotic nature.

-Fighting someone? He’s immediately your back, not even asking what the issue is. He’s already throwing hands.

-Sees you climbing the hideout? He yells at you to be careful, while pulling out a phone to record you.

-Plumeria ends up being the one to wrestle you down before you get yourself killed.

-Loves bringing you to random parts of the islands just to see what you will do next.

-Almost died laughing when he found you at an All-You-Can-Eat Buffet, with a mountain of food about half your size in front of you. Each piece of food organized to keep the small mountain perfectly stable.

-The poor waiters were amazed an horrified, especially as you attempted to eat all of it in one go. You did not. He had to help you put it in boxes to take home.

Kiawe

-He loves your energy, even if its a bit much for him sometimes.

-Has found ways to help you focus that chaotic energy into other things. Hobbies, exercise, and so on. He’s probably one of the only ones here that can actually reel you in with a good distraction that doesn’t just involve food.

-But still secretly loves letting you loose and causing chaos. He won’t admit it though.

-Nearly cried laughing when he found you in one of the town parks, somehow having joined a paint balloon fight. You were winning by a long shot, noticing the poor fools who looked horrified to face you.

-Doesn’t like having to clean up after your messes after causing havoc, though. You make a mess? You’re on your own.

“Hey, so I may or may not have caused a huge wave to hit the beach-”

-Kiawe, without even looking in your direction: “You are on your own.” -Is amused by your pouting. Maybe will help you if you ask nicely. Good luck though.

[edensrose]

Howdy, I was wondering if you could do some general Sairon and/Melkor date headcanons? Where would they take an s/o? Or what would a dream date look like? That sort of thing. Thank you!

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ mairon, melkor ( separately ) ⠀〳 reader⠀ ❜࿔

· ⊰ synopsis. what kind of date would the dark lords take their s/o on?

· ⊰ note. of course! admittedly, I did struggle a bit with melkor tho aha

( masterlist ) ( taglist form )

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ MAIRON 

ʚ Most likely would take you out to some sort of flowerfield, as fluffy as that sounds. Something away from the usual visual of fire and darkness - he likes changing things up a bit 

ʚ Mairon can be a passionate lover, just he tends to have a difficult time showing it at times. Dates are when he lets himself loose a bit and most likely where you receive most of his affection 

ʚ He remembers back to what Aulë would do with Yavanna and more often than not that was to have a picnic with her in her realm which is exactly what he decided to do when it came to you. Minus Yavanna’s realm, of course

 ʚ You were a little surprised and rightfully so, but hey, you got a cute little date out of the usually fearless maia. You couldn’t help but tease him a little about it to which he would playfully threaten to have your next picnic beside a volcano instead 

ʚ Plays with your hair while you lay your head in his lap, eating strawberries and wondering where he got actual and normal food 

ʚ If he’s in a good enough mood he may even lull you to sleep with a soft song. Before scooping you up in his arms and resting in the flowerfield with you. He needed the break from Angband 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ MELKOR 

ʚ Absolutely had no idea what to do when it came to dates. He tried to think back on what the Vala did with their lovers - dinners seemed to be a common denominator 

ʚ So that’s what he did. He got some of his servants to cook food and set up a dining hall in Angband where the two of you could enjoy your time together 

ʚ Yes he knows that this wasn’t something like a romantic date beside the ocean or whatever but hey, he’s trying. He’s not exactly the romantic type after all 

ʚ Would make sure that your favourite food was made and would also ensure that nothing weird was on the table, he didn’t want you freaking out by seeing something like an eyeball

ʚ Honestly, it would be quite casual. The two of you would have dinner and reminisce about the past. After, he’d take you on a little walk along the mountains and volcanoes 

ʚ Again, Melkor isn’t really the romantic type but he tries when it comes to you at the very least 

taglist — @kiatheinsomniac @augustwithquills @blueberryrock @a-chaotic-dumbass @m-shade @nerdydcfan @flowerchildishere @camilomyshiningsun @bugnug @algae-rave @snakesofindia-sursesaji @theroguemaia @heraluthor @pinkslashersimp @the-girl-king @rurifangirl

[titan-fodder]

Pyroclastic (Mike Zacharias x Reader)

Summary: Some would argue that the park is dead, but you know better; it’s livelier than it has been in hundreds of thousands of years, a shuddering, breathing monster finally rising to its feet after an eternity of slumber. Soon, it will open its mouth in an earth-shattering scream, and then, everyone will see.

Not dead; just waking up.

Rating: E (explicit)

Word Count: ~19.5K

Warnings: slow burn, friends to lovers, Eruri, implied Mobuhan, spelling Miche ‘Mike’, swearing, fighting, lots of nerdy shit, explicit sexual content, breeding kink

A/N: This is my contribution to the Smut Pile’s Apocalypse collab. I urge everyone to check out all the pieces on the masterlist. A big thanks to @pleasantanathema​ and @whats-her-quirk​ for being about as excited about this as I was, to @shadowworks​ for always encouraging me when I take on projects too big for my own good, and to @mindninjax​ who volunteered her husband’s expertise on this. I’m pretty proud of this piece and had a blast writing and researching for it. This is by no means scientifically accurate, but I did my best to make it realistic (as in I watched Supervolcano again and spent a lot of time on the USGS website). Also, I have been to Yellowstone exactly one (1) time in my life and was terrified the entire time which is where my fixation with it comes from. 

Enjoy~

GLOSSARY

Caldera - large basin-shaped volcanic depression with a diameter many times larger than its included volcanic vents; commonly formed when magma is withdrawn or erupted from a shallow, underground magma reservoir.*

Pyroclastic flow - A hot (typically >800 °C), chaotic mixture of rock fragments, gas, and ash that travels rapidly (tens of meters per second) away from a volcanic vent or collapsing flow front.*

Tephra -  pieces of all fragments of rock ejected into the air by an erupting volcano.

VEI - The Volcanic Explosivity Index (VEI) is a relative measure of the explosiveness of volcanic eruptions.*

*definitions taken from USGS website

4  Y E A R S  B E F O R E 

Levi looks pissed when he’s on screen. He looks pissed all the time, but he looks especially pissed when he’s made to stand in front of pointed cameras and outstretched microphones. 

You can’t blame him; it’s not actually his job to deal with the press, but some years ago, Erwin had twisted his arm this way and that and convinced Levi to take over conferences.

“They understand you better,” he’d said. “You enunciate better than me. We can’t have people misunderstanding me and panicking, can we?” The blond had purposely spoken with an accent thicker than usual, and Levi had called him every name under the sun, but in the end, he’d relented, and now…

“Dr. Ackermann! Dr. Ackermann! Is it true that this has been the largest earthquake in Yellowstone since Hebgen Lake?” 

Levi squints, actually cringes at the question, then waves one of his small, bony hands. “Hebgen Lake was a major quake—7.2 on the Richter scale. This was only a 5.3, and yeah, it’s been a while since the park has had a quake larger than a three, but that doesn’t mean—”

“So, should we be worried about a supereruption?” Another reporter asks, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing as the light leaves your colleague’s eyes. 

Levi’s jaw slides, and he pauses, no doubt to think about how to answer because this is a delicate question, one that the general public always reads extremely far into. He’s good at keeping his expression blank, at least, probably another reason Erwin requested he take over interviews. 

“Listen,” he starts off, slate eyes locking onto the largest camera in front of him. “Yellowstone is a hub of seismic energy. It wouldn’t be the park we know and love today if it wasn’t shaking and letting off steam like it usually does, right?” This gains a few relieved chuckles from the crowd of journalists. 

“Was this earthquake bigger than the ones we’re used to? Yes. Are we monitoring each and every tremor that we pick up? Also, yes. So, don’t make yourself sick worryin’ about sh—stuff you can’t control. We’ll let you know if it’s time to worry.” He sucks his teeth for a second, waiting for his advice to wash over everyone, then adds, “Keep a bug-out bag packed, though. Not because of the volcano or anything. Just because… The world is crazy and so are people, and it’s always good to be prepared.”

They take it as a joke, laugh a little louder as Levi steps down from the podium, but you’ve worked with him long enough to know he had made the comment with serious intent. It’s a lot easier to fly out of town at a moment’s notice when you already have the necessities packed, and though he won't tell them all the facts this early on, there’s a chance that they will eventually have to evacuate, yes. 

“I fucking hate that big, blond bastard,” is the first thing Levi tells you when he’s within earshot, much less well-spoken in casual situations than when his face is being broadcasted. “Voht iff they dunt understahnd me, Lebi?” He mimics your boss badly then pantomimes an uppercut with a dramatic grunt. 

“Why’d you make him sound Russian?”

“I was trying to make him sound stupid ‘cause that’s what he is.”

“I have four doctorates,” Erwin states as he falls into step with both of you, finally moving from his little hiding place behind one of the news trucks. “I’m not stupid. And, I do not sound like that.”

“That’s what you think,” Levi grumbles, doing his best to shrug away from the larger man when Erwin slings an arm around his shoulders. It doesn’t work, and Levi ends up stumbling to keep up with Erwin’s longer strides, which only serves to irritate him further. 

“You looked good up there. I mean, you sounded good. Sounded sure, comforting…” 

You shake your head at Erwin’s obvious struggle to just not be the big weirdo that he is, but it sure is painful to watch sometimes. 

Governor Zachary takes over the conference, leaving the three of you to make your way inside the lodge that the emergency broadcast was set up outside of. Levi and Erwin bicker through the lobby then through the back doors that lead you to the jeep that you all swing yourselves into. 

The sky is still a little dusty with shaken sediment, and some of the park rangers are setting up barricades at the mouths of a couple hiking trails leading to what is now a moderately large crevasse that’s opened up in the Biscuit Basin. 

Other than that, the park doesn’t feel much different as you ride through it on your way back to the lab. The Summer sun brings with it your favorite 70 degree days, and if it weren’t for Erwin’s questionable driving, you’d be tempted to hang half your body out the window just to feel the warmth better. The faint smell of sulfur in the air is soothing at this point—the smell of activity, the smell of science, the smell of home. Geysers are still shooting boiling water to the skies. The mud pots are still bubbling like ominous cauldrons. That earthquake couldn’t have shaken too much out of place if all the geothermal spots are still behaving as they normally do.

The tires kick up rocks and dust as Erwin brakes dramatically outside of the base, right behind another familiar jeep that makes Levi roll his eyes. 

“Great. The boy scout’s here.” 

“Oh, be nice, you little grump,” Erwin chastises him. “Mike’s been nothing but kind to us since he started working here.”

“Yeah, except for the time he misjudged the depth of that puddle and—”

“Splashed you with mud, yeah, yeah, we know, Levi,” you finish for him as you slide out of the vehicle. “You bring it up every time you see the guy. We know.”

“And, didn’t he apologize afterward?” Erwin prompts.

Levi doesn’t answer, but you respond for him: “Profusely. Drove him back to the lab, offered him his spare change of clothes—”

“Useless,” Levi hisses. “The dude’s a giant.”

“Not his fault he’s…” You try not to sound too giddy when you step through the door and see the man in question. “Enormous.” 

You don’t know Mike very well, one of the newer park rangers but with a background in geology which leads him to your neck of the woods very often. The few conversations you have had with him have all been pleasant. He’s soft-spoken but obviously intelligent with good instincts about both the park’s weather and wildlife. 

He’s also the only ranger you’ve seen actually pull off the dorky park uniform, but that could just be because the different shades of green look good against his tan skin and bring out his light eyes. Even taller than Erwin and a little broader too, M. Zacharias (as his little, metal name tag reads) is a slab of a man, and yet, when he grins, it’s almost boyish. 

“Hey, Mike, what’s up?” You greet.

He turns his head to look at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, then offers one of the soft smiles you were hoping for. “Just came to drop off some samples for Hange.”

“Disgusting,” Levi mutters just for you to hear as he passes, and you shove him hard enough to make him stumble and flip you off. 

“How’d the press conference go?” Hange asks, tossing a small, corked flask of mud from hand to hand—what you assume to be the sample—while twirling in their computer chair. The last member of your team, Moblit Berner, glances away from the holographic model he’s studying to hear the answer. 

“I think it went well,” Erwin says. “Levi handled it like a champion, as always.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, old man,” the brunet bites out, joining Moblit next to the expensive projection table in the middle of the lab. “What’re we lookin’ at?”

“I’m just running the numbers from today’s quake. The possible effects it had underground.”

“And?”

Moblit is quiet for a beat too long.

“Mobs, what is it?” 

You, Erwin, and Hange make your way over to the table, staring at the laser-lit park model and the chamber underneath it. 

“Well, in most of the scenarios, it’s fine,” Moblit tries. “Nothing to worry about.”

“And, in the others?” 

He looks to Erwin, as everyone does in times of concern. Thick eyebrows pinched together, your boss motions to the hologram. “Show us.”

Moblit punches a few things in on the app he uses to control the model, then takes a deep breath and lets it play out for everyone to see, including Mike who slowly makes his way over, curiosity apparently getting the best of him. 

At first, nothing looks to change, just a living, breathing reenactment of what you were seeing today—every geyser, every fumarole, every little rumble, every minute rise and fall of the ground sped up to be detected with the human eye. 

And then, it stops. 

“Why did it…”

“Just watch,” Moblit shushes you. 

The outline of the ground fractures in several different places, statistics for different earthquakes blinking above. The known vents of the park—every geyser, mudpot, and fumarole—are rendered inactive, and under it all, that massive chamber everyone is always so worried about begins to bulge upward and outward, growing larger and larger until…

The map shorts out, flickering then disappearing entirely, leaving the six of you staring at the space where it was shining just seconds ago. 

“Was that…” 

Erwin inhales deeply through his nose before exhaling the word that will eventually bring the nation to its knees.

"Supereruption."

3  Y E A R S  B E F O R E

Even through the thick headset, the whir of the helicopter blades is loud, a rhythm pulsing through the air strong enough to be felt in your chest right alongside your beating heart. 

Thankfully, Mike’s deep voice is loud and clear when he speaks, nodding his head to the right, “Look down at about two o’clock.”

You follow his command, tilting your head and peering down at an empty field. 

“I don’t see anything,” you say.

The microphone hanging in front of his mouth picks up his chuckle, and the sound of it echoes in your ears, making you grin albeit a little confused. 

“Exactly. That’s a big spot for bison this time of year.”

“Then why aren’t they here?”

Mike lets the chopper hover for a while, both hands still on their respective control levers. 

“Ground’s been moving too much,” he says after a few seconds of silent staring. You’d known the answer already but hearing the wildlife expert confirm it fills you with a little more dread than you’d originally harbored. “They feel things we don’t, the tiny quakes, the tremors. Stuff you only think the seismograph picks up—they feel all of it.”

“They know what’s coming,” you say more to yourself than to him. 

Mike offers you one of those charming, close-lipped smiles. “When in doubt, trust the animals.” 

A line you’ve heard him say a few times now. Mike loves everything that lives in the park, from all the common lake trout and sand cranes to the endangered grizzly bears and gray wolves. 

Trust the animals, he says. Because he trusts them. Because he loves them. 

“You wanna fly over the Grand Prismatic?” Mike asks, pulling you from your thoughts, and when you look over, you find your reflection in his mirrored aviators as he stares at you. 

His mouth quirks up at the corners, causing yours to do the same, and you nod. “Yeah, always.”

It’s your favorite view in the park, the colorful spring from up above. Mike had learned that a few months ago, and now whenever you ride in the chopper with him, he makes sure to pass over the beautiful attraction just for you.

Nearly 200° Fahrenheit with a pH of 8.7, the pool, while still dangerous due to its temperature, is one of the more moderate dangers of the national park, tame in comparison to the Norris Geyser Basin with temperatures up to 459° (a thousand meters below the surface, anyway) and a pH of about two. It’s dissolved bones—human bones. And, would claim even more if given the chance. 

You suppose that’s expected for a basin that’s sitting over a chamber of 1,500° molten magma. 

The Grand Prismatic is just as stunning today as it is every other. Its outer orange and yellow rings darken to greens and blues the further inward you look, thick steam rising from all over but more condensed over the middle. 

It was one of the park's biggest attractions, tourists flocking to the spring with their cameras, too stricken by the vivid chromaticism to listen or read about the temperatures and microbials that are responsible for the colors in the first place. 

As you hover above now, just to the side of the steam, your heart aches. There are no ignorant tourists to take pictures of the pool, the boardwalks and trails to these hot spots now blocked off once it became apparent that the earthquake that took place last year was not the last of its kind. Your team as well as the park rangers went to the park board as a unit and suggested that tourists needed to be kept away from as many geothermal features as possible, all of you with the same fear in mind: someone (or many someones) falling in. 

It's always been a risk, but now, with weekly rumblings, that risk has multiplied exponentially. All it takes is someone losing their footing on the boardwalk over the Norris Geyser Basin for serene sightseeing to turn into tragedy, and that's on a good day. Throw a 5.7 earthquake into the mix, and the park could lose an entire tour group to the heat and acid. 

It's just not a risk any of you are willing to take anymore. 

Most of the park remains open. Old Faithful continues to draw people in by the thousands. They sit and watch boiling water shoot into the sky every hour or so, clapping happily at the sight, unaware of the way you and your team hold your breath in wait, hoping for the geyser to go off on its usual schedule. 

One day it will stop. One day they'll all stop. And, then… 

"I can't believe it's all gonna be gone one day," you muse, blinking down at the prismatic pool for as long as Mike will let you. 

"Nah," the man disagrees. "Not gone. Buried, yeah, but not gone."

You snort, turn back to him with a grin and roll your eyes. "Yeah, no big deal. Just miles of pyroclast and ash, probably snow when we get thrust into another ice age 'cause of the crazy climate swing..."

"Alright, alright, I get it. The sun dimeth and the land sinketh."

"Gusheth forth steam and gutting fire," you continue grimly.

Mike turns the helicopter back toward the landing zone, saying nothing else and leaving you to take in the sights below. You're grateful for the silence; it's good for processing, for preparation. 

And, you're grateful for Mike, one of your best friends at this point—soft and kind despite his intimidating stature, smart as a whip, and just as stunning, if not more so, than the Grand Prismatic. 

"Any idea what you'll do afterward?" He asks, holding a hand out to you to help you from your seat in the chopper. 

"Not really. Survive, I guess." 

You land just a little too close to him, your face nearly coming in direct contact with his broad chest, but Mike steps back just in time, making you extend your arm, still connected at the fingers, before he drops your hand. 

"A feat all on its own," he says flatly, but he perks up as you both begin walking to the park ranger base. "Maybe you'll find another team to work on."

"I don't want to find another team," you tell him honestly. "This is my team. This is my home."

Mike hums, an understanding little sound, body warm when he gently bumps into you on the gravel pathway to the lodge. "Yeah, I know."

A geophysics major at UCLA with a specific interest in volcanology, getting to intern with the Erwin Smith at the Yellowstone supervolcano had been a dream come true. You'd expected to gain knowledge and experience—nothing more and nothing less. You'd lived out here for one summer during your graduate program, clocking the field experience you needed to get your degree and taking in everything you could. 

Back then, it felt like all you did was ask questions and get in the way. By the end of that summer, you knew every variation of Levi Ackermann's irritated sighs, every different pitch of Hange Zoe's shouts and how they correlated with their experiments. Moblit had been the newest permanent addition and was even more nervous than he is now, trying and failing to keep up with Hange (which he's much better at doing these days). 

They were all fantastic, but it had been the lead researcher who'd reeled you in. You'd never met anyone as passionate as Dr. Erwin Smith, captivated by the monster underneath the park and thrilled to share his brain with anyone willing to hold their hands out for it. Hell, he'd even helped you with your Master's thesis—hydrothermally altered mineralized systems and their seismic reflections. 

When you graduated, the Yellowstone team was the first you reached out to and the first you heard back from. Erwin said you'd been a perfect fit even as a student (which you hadn't exactly believed but definitely blushed at anyway). Mobs, Hange, and even Levi seemed happy to have you back. It was like you were meant to be here. In this park. With all of them. 

Studying the volcano and all of its properties has always been like breathing to you—natural and necessary. You move when it moves, every shake and tremor a heartbeat in your own chest, every shooting geyser like blood in your veins. The mudpots are your bubbling emotions, the fumaroles, your sense of building pressure and release.

You feel at home in the park because you trust it. Because you love it. 

You don't have room for another team in your heart, but as you walk inside the lodge next to Mike, watching as he takes off his sunglasses and grins at one of the other rangers, you think you at least have room for one more person. 

2  Y E A R S  B E F O R E

The lab has two extra bodies in it—two extra unwelcome bodies who keep getting in your way and touching things as they ask questions that no one has the answers to yet.

“When did you say this was going to happen?” The rotund state governor, Dhalis Zachary, asks for the second time since arriving, picking up a sample test tube that Moblit immediately plucks from his hand with a nervous smile.

“As I said before, it’s difficult to place a concrete timeline on an event like this,” Erwin tells the white-haired man. “We don’t exactly have in depth records of the last three eruptions, so all we have to go off of is the earth itself and our simulations.”

At the edge of the projection table, Nile Dok, FEMA director, cautiously waves a hand through the holographic model displayed in front of him. He obviously doesn’t think anyone is watching him because the slender man jumps in surprise when you snort at your desk, and his angular cheekbones take on a pink tint of embarrassment from having been caught.

He clears his throat, straightens the knot that sits over it, then turns to face Erwin and prompts, “Three eruptions before. One was a lot bigger than the others, though, right?”

Erwin nods. “Huckleberry Ridge. Over two million years ago.”

“We’re hoping—if a supereruption is to occur—it’ll be closer to the size of Mesa Falls,” you pipe up.

“Which one was that?” Zachary asks.

“One-point-three million years ago, two-hundred-and-eighty cubic kilometers of erupted materials…” Levi lists off as he makes his way over to the table with a sanitary wipe in hand. He doesn’t like people in his space, doesn’t like strangers in the lab, even (especially) government officials (“They leave fingerprints, and they breathe on everything, and they waste our fucking time.”).

“Two-hundred-and-eighty cubic kilometers… That’s the best-case scenario?” Zachary looks to Erwin, eyebrows raised high over his wire glasses.

Erwin stares at him for a moment, contemplating the best and easiest way to explain this to someone who has no real experience in the field. Eventually, he settles on, “Moblit, can you run some simulations for me?”

“Of course, sir,” the mousy scientist agrees, phone in hand and pulling up the app before the boss can even finish speaking.

Everyone gathers around the table except for Levi who steps away from it, grumbling under his breath about coming back to clean it later. He at least hits the lights, making the model easier to see as Erwin starts listing off numbers and scenarios.

“The best case, actually, is only one vent opening, maybe two. It would be something comparable to Mount St. Helen’s, though probably a bit bigger, say point-five cubic kilometers of material. It would be necessary to evacuate the park and this region of the state at the very least.”

Zachary hums, “And, how likely is that?”

Erwin shrugs. “Hard to say right now. As the earthquakes increase, though, the likelihood of a small eruption like that, uh, dwindles.”

“Small,” Nile scoffs.

Zachary makes a similar noise, slightly louder, a little more offended, then rattles off, “Mount St. Helen’s killed almost sixty people. The blast, the ash, the lahars—” as if you don’t all already know.

“No one’s discounting the damage of the eruption,” Levi cuts him off. “But, if you’re sweatin’ at those numbers, all due respect, Governor, I don’t know if you’re ready to stomach the rest of this little light show.”

The older man cuts his eyes at Levi who squints right back at him, only turn and shuffle over to his desk when Erwin waves him further away, a silent way of saying ‘keep your smart mouth away from the authority figures’.

“Moving on,” you cough, twirling a finger to get both Erwin and Mobs to continue.

“Yes,” Erwin nods. “So, any eruption is dependent on how much magma in the chamber is eruptible magma. Just because it’s there doesn’t mean it will come out.”

Moblit punches in a few numbers to show what a small-scale eruption would look like, first with one vent then with two.

“With just that amount, even with two vents, it isn’t enough to completely destabilize the chamber.”

“And, destabilizing it would be… bad…” Nile states more than asks, brown eyes lit up by the model in front of him.

“No shit,” everyone hears Levi grumble from his desk, and Erwin huffs and looks at you, expression a little exasperated as he jerks a thumb back toward the grumpy man in yet another one of his silent motions— a plea in this case—'go take care of him’ which you do.

Levi is slumped in his computer chair, arms crossed over his chest as he peers over his desktop at the four men gathered around the hologram.

“Should’a just gone with Hange and the boy scout to collect samples when I had the chance,” he mutters.

“You hate collecting samples, especially sulfur samples. Which is what they’re getting now.”

“Yeah, well I hate these guys even more.” He says it quietly enough so that they won’t be able to hear, and even if they could, both Governor Zachary and Nile are too invested in the information that the scientists are giving them to pay attention to anything else.

“What’d they ever do to you?” You push, curious now because sure, Levi has always been the surliest of the team, but it’s rare that he’s surly and loud about it.

“Nothing. They have done nothing because they don’t belong here. They have no idea—no fucking idea—what’s about to happen.” You can hear his frustration even through his whispers. “Best case scenarios? Why are we even going over those? We know damn well that we’re not looking at one or two vents. And, we’re not lookin’ at Mesa Falls either.”

Letting out a long breath, you lean against Levi’s desk, ignoring the way he grunts in protest.

“I know. I’m sure Erwin and Moblit will prep them for the worst case.”

“There’s no prepping for it,” Levi hisses, gray eyes flashing. “We’re talking about—"

“…A nationwide cataclysmic event.” Both of you register Erwin’s voice at the same time and glance at the other group to find them staring at the lit-up simulation of the Huckleberry Ridge eruption.

“Which would pretty quickly turn into a worldwide problem,” Moblit adds quietly.

“Worldwide?” You hear Nile question in a low but very alarmed tone. “Because of the ash?”

“Well, yes, but, it’s not just ash,” Erwin clarifies, diving into his explanation of tephra and how dangerous it is. He reminds the men how far it traveled after the Mount St. Helen’s eruption since they’ve apparently latched onto that one, then challenges, “Now imagine an eruption about… six hundred times that size.”

“Six…” Nile swallows, turning his entire, slender frame toward Erwin and repeating, “Six hundred times bigger? That’s what we’re expecting?”

In his little rolling chair, Levi’s chest puffs a bit, finally satisfied that the gravity of the situation is beginning to set in. “Maybe they aren’t as dumb as they look.”

Erwin is about to say something, right hand lifted with his index finger extended in a very matter-of-fact way, but before he can manage to get anything out, the door to the lab swings open and Hange walks in, Mike just behind them carrying all the collected samples in what almost looks like a lunchbox.

“We’re back—” Hange stops, taking in their surroundings, the lack of lights, the bright projection, the grim energy, then shouts, “Hey, get some Pink Floyd playing! Like a planetarium in here! Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me…”

“Dr. Zoe,” Moblit clears his throat. “We were just going over the utter devastation a supereruption could wreak on the country.”

“Oh, were you?” Hange pauses, brow rising, lips puckering into a sour expression. “My bad.”

Raising a hand to your forehead, you laugh to yourself for a few seconds before shaking the untimely amusement off and making your way over to Mike to take the sample kit from him.

“Careful,” he warns jokingly as he passes it off. “Got some very fragile gas and mud in there.”

“Yeah?” You tease. “So, I shouldn’t, like, shake it or anything?”

“Definitely should not shake it. Here, here, just—” He takes it back, grinning broadly as he tells you, “I think it’s best if you let a professional handle such dangerous compounds.”

All the doom-and-gloom you had been feeling mere seconds ago evaporates entirely, and you let out a frankly embarrassing giggle as you watch Mike very carefully set the samples down on Hange’s lab table, making a show of securing them and whispering a final, “Stay,” so that you clamp a hand over your mouth.

Levi groans in disgust, and, at the same time, Erwin mutters an apology to Zachary and Nile for, “… employing a team of children.”

Your face heats in embarrassment, but it doesn’t keep you from smiling at Mike when he saunters back over, looking rather sheepish himself.

“Lunchtime soon, right?”

“Yeah, in a bit—”

“Please go now, for the love of God,” Erwin sighs. “And, take Levi and Hange with you.”

None of you need telling twice, quickly grabbing wallets and home-packed meals before rushing from the lab before your boss decides to murder one or all of you.

Levi steers Hange toward his car, leaving you alone with Mike which you don’t mind in the slightest. You take most of your lunches with him anyway, some of your breakfasts and dinners too, so this is simply part of your daily routine.

“I’ve got some sandwiches packed already. Wanna hit Mount Haynes?” He suggests, sliding into the driver’s seat of his jeep.

You point a fingergun at him and nod. “I like the way you think, sir.”

He takes a very specific route, avoiding any damaged areas, having to veer off of the actual road at a certain point to take a safer path he and other rangers have made. You watch the mountains of the park grow closer and closer, what you know to be the ridge of Yellowstone’s caldera looming nearer.

Mike parks at the base of your intended destination then reaches into the backseat to grab the aforementioned lunch. You have no intentions of actually hiking to the top of the mountain—don’t have the time or the will, honestly—but as soon as the two of you have worked up a sweat and are at a decent enough elevation to look out on the park underneath, you drop to the dusty ground and take it all in.

Even from this distance, you can see some of the gases and steam in the air. That’s the only movement there is, though, save for the occasional ranger vehicle zipping along. The land seems almost barren at this point. The grass is still green. The sun is still bright as it is every Summer.

But, there are no animals, no tourists, no real life. Instead, it’s been replaced with cracks and crevasses, with barricades and warning signs.

Trail Closed

Road Closed

Danger: Keep Out

It’s been almost six months since the park decided to shut down to the public, and if you’re being honest, it should have closed its doors long before. It took people dying to bring the board to their senses, an earthquake that shook the ground for minutes, the crust of the earth splitting right under the historical lodge that so many loved.

Fourteen casualties. Twenty-nine injured.

That’s what it took.

You barely recognize the park now, feel like the last endangered species left within its boundaries. It’s just the research team, some of the rangers, and the occasional outside visitor (board members, government officials, or press that gets waved away).

Some would argue that the park is dead, but you know better; it’s livelier than it has been in hundreds of thousands of years, a shuddering, breathing monster finally rising to its feet after an eternity of slumber. Soon, it will open its mouth in an earth-shattering scream, and then, everyone will see.

Not dead; just waking up.

“You look tired.” Mike’s voice may as well be carried by the breeze, light and low, refreshing as it passes over you, and you flash him a smile while nodding.

“Exhausted.”

He grabs a sandwich from the lunchbox, and you fish hand sanitizer from one of the many pockets on your pants, squirting it into your hand first then holding it out to the man beside you.

“Seems like you spend more time here than at your apartment.”

“Oh, most definitely.” You unwrap what looks to be turkey and pepper-jack and try to ignore the way your stomach flips at the fact that it’s your favorite simple-sandwich-combo and that Mike remembered. “Lot to do in the lab. Obviously.” You take a bite—no mustard, only mayo—and feel some of the tension between your shoulder blades begin to unwind.

“Figure you wouldn’t want it any other way, though,” Mike comments before chomping into his own sandwich.

“Right you are. I mean, end of the world, potentially. Scary stuff, but also…” You swallow, lick your lips and stare out at the landscape in front of you as you grapple with words. “It’s like… I’m terrified, but I feel like I’m exactly where I need to be. Like…”

This is how I’m supposed to go out, you almost say, but you’re smart to keep it to yourself. That’s a thought for you and you alone, one you haven’t shared with anyone because nobody else would understand except maybe Erwin.

“This is what you’re meant to do,” Mike supplies, and you look over at him. “This is what you love. I get that.”

And, he’s right. But, the park and volcanology—those aren’t the only things you love.

Mike sits there, legs crossed like an overgrown kindergartener, shaggy hair blowing in the wind, light green eyes so, incredibly warm and bright, and it feels like you can’t breathe anymore, like your lungs and throat are already full of ash that hasn’t fallen yet, tight with dying declarations you can’t bring yourself to make.

“Have you ever heard of Katia and Maurice Krafft?” You ask, and yes, your voice does feel somewhat strangled, the space behind your eyes burning just a little hotter than usual.

Mike shakes his head, takes another bite, and gives you his undivided attention.

“They were these French volcanologists who got really famous for the pictures and footage they took of erupting volcanoes. The recordings they got for the community were—I mean, they were pioneers. They changed the game. There’s photos and videos of them just—” you gesture nebulously with both your hands, nearly flinging your sandwich off the side of the mountain and making Mike reach out and catch your wrist before you can.

“Please, no feeding the park’s wildlife, ma’am,” he jokes easily, and you have to shove the sandwich into your mouth to keep from giggling like a schoolgirl. Mike shows the smallest of satisfied smiles, completely unaware of his own charm, and it’s maddening and intoxicating, and it’s all you can do to keep talking about the brave scientists.

“Anyway,” you continue. “Katia would get, like, within feet of lava flows. Just walkin’ right beside ‘em in her special heat suit. And, they’d wear protective helmets because of, you know—”

“Explosions. Falling rocks.”

 “Yeah, exactly. They were just there, documenting it all happening, nerves of fucking steel. Katia was usually the one gathering samples and stuff while Maurice recorded, but he was right in the thick of it too. This badass couple learning and adventuring together.”

Mike eventually questions, “What happened to them?” but you’re sure he knows the answer when you deflate a bit.

“Mount Unzen eruption—got caught in the pyroclastic flow. Died instantly.”

“At least they were doing what they loved,” he says, and you nod.

You’re silent for a while, neither of you eating but both of you staring. You think about the Kraffts often, especially now with Yellowstone’s imminent eruption. Doing what they loved… They died for their research, and though you never got the chance to meet them or even speak with anyone who has met them, you have a feeling they wouldn’t have wanted it to happen any other way.

“Just so you know,” Mike gets your attention, and when you look over at him, your heart swells.

The sun is reflected in his eyes, making light green glow with more than just warmth and sincerity, and god, you’re so in love with him, you can feel it in your bone marrow. You ache for him, you pine for him, and you want to live for him, but how…

“I’d film you walking next to a lava flow,” he tells you. Despite the little smile playing at his lips, you know he isn’t kidding.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and you have to look away before any actually fall, but your sniffle definitely gives you away. You swear internally, berating yourself for getting emotional in front of Mike, though you can’t say you’re too surprised. Your stress levels have been through the roof, working non-stop for months now, the government breathing down your neck. People have died and the park is literally fracturing before your eyes, and you’re not ready to see it end—to see everything as you know it come to an end.

“Pretty dusty up here,” Mike comments while nudging you. You find him holding out a handkerchief, letting you take it then turning his gaze forward again to allow you a little privacy to dab at your eyes.

Mike has senses beyond the normal human spectrum. He has a sense for weather unlike anyone you’ve ever seen before, from thunderstorms and tornadoes to record snowfall and, on a few occasions, earthquakes. You can still vividly remember being in the lab the day of the fatal quake that damaged the hotel, seeing Mike suddenly look at the seismogram seconds before it started picking up the first tremors. Levi had called it “freakish”, but you had called him “incredible”.

It’s not just the weather, though. Mike has a way with people and animals too, like he can gauge their emotions and act appropriately. It’s how he knows what days he can push Levi’s buttons and get away with it, how he knows when Hange is too busy and overwhelmed to gather samples themself, so he gathers some for them.

And, it’s how he knows exactly when he needs to pull you into a hug, like when the team realized the chances of a small to moderate eruption were next to nothing, like when he had told you how many of those hotel guests had gotten hurt and died and you’d stared at him with wide, watery eyes, and like right now, as you think about Katia and Maurice Krafft, the fate they met and how yours might not be any different.

Will you die doing what you love? Will you be able to welcome it as bravely as they did?

You rest your head on Mike’s shoulder, letting yourself melt into his side, his arm sturdy and grounding where it wraps around you, and as you look out over the sunlit grounds, one last question plagues your mind:

Does a pyroclastic flow burn as hot as the molten feelings inside of you?

You can’t imagine anything does.

1  Y E A R  B E F O R E

The message is broadcasted straight from the state capitol, Levi's expression grim as he reads off the paper hidden on the podium. 

"I know all of this sounds apocalyptic—the ash and blackouts and probable climate change, and it is scary, but we still have some time, so there's no reason to panic. We just urge that if you haven't already started preparing, now's the time. Please."

A couple steps behind him and a little to the right is Erwin, standing tall and nodding at everything Levi says as if he's providing some kind of credibility. 

"Considering we're looking at a VEI eight, the team of volcanologists at Yellowstone have recommended that all of Wyoming and its neighboring states evacuate, but I'll let Homeland Security go over all that."

As he turns to step back, the crowd of reporters and journalists begin shouting out questions, and Levi grimaces as he moves to stand next to Erwin who places a hand in his shoulder. 

You can't hear everything being asked from where you're watching at the lab, but you can't imagine it's anything good judging by the way Levi's frown just keeps growing. 

Fortunately, the vaguely familiar secretary of Homeland Security, Dot Pixis, takes the stand quickly, holding up wrinkled hands in an attempt to calm the crowd. 

"We have some more very important information to cover in this address, so if you'll allow me…" He clears his throat and straightens a stack of papers on the podium, no doubt a huge list of protocols that the public will only half listen to. 

You swivel back and forth in your chair as you watch the thin man on screen, his voice scratchy but strangely soothing as he outlines rationing, supply storage, and evacuation routes. 

"We're also negotiating with our neighboring countries about opening borders. Now, anyone seeking refuge would still be required to fill out an application for a temporary visa, but—"

"God, you know they gotta love that," you mumble to yourself. 

Hange, tinkering somewhere behind you, laughs and agrees, "Yeah, after decades of treating immigrants like trash, and now we're just knocking on their doors, asking for help. Ridiculous."

"Embarrassing, is what it is." 

It was for whichever government official had to make that call, anyway. You're positive that had been a hard pill to swallow. 

As far as you've heard, the foreign affairs part of this mess is actually going quite well. You'd accompanied Erwin to the big meeting with Canadian officials and watched him and Pixis plead a case for America, emphasizing just how bad the eruption will be "at home", then switched tactics at whiplash speed to go into how countries needed to work together since this wouldn't just be the US's problem in the long run. 

It turned into a rather inspiring speech, if you're being honest, prompted you to text Levi a short, how is E so damn charming all the time? to which he'd responded, Believe me, you're asking the wrong fuckin guy. 

With multiple government agencies now backing the states and setting plans in motion, the impending eruption seems even more real. You thought your stress levels were high before, that your sleep pattern left little to be desired, but oh, you had been wrong. 

Case in point being Mike walking into the lab with a brown paper bag and slightly unpleasant expression as he asks, "Have you eaten today?" 

Your glare has no real meaning as you grumble, "Had a granola bar this morning."

"It's nearly six," he groans, pushing you, chair and all, up to your desk and setting the bag in front of you. "Please eat something before you pass out."

"Okay, okay, Christ. You're more attentive than my mother."

"I met your mom last year, and you and I both know she would be hysterical if she knew how you've been treating yourself lately."

He has a point. In fact, you're glad Mike is naturally quiet and didn't bond too strongly with her, otherwise you have a feeling he would have called her by now to complain. 

The chicken salad sandwich you bite into must be imbued with some kind of magic, because you let out an honest to god moan when you swallow the first bite. 

"Oh my god, what did you put in this?" You ask as you blink up at your best friend. 

Mike snorts and rolls his eyes. "Uh, actual nutrients maybe? Weird how your body needs those."

Hands too busy shoving more food into your mouth, you headbutt him right at the hip, just hard enough to make him grunt and sway. He steadies himself, glances down at you like he's annoyed but ends up breaking into a grin when he catches what you assume to be a piece of chicken salad dotting the corner of your mouth. 

"What am I gonna do with you," he mumbles, wiping it with a gentle thumb. 

Your body warms with both embarrassment and affection, but you can't quite find a response even as your head clears for the first time in about two days. You really do need to start taking better care of yourself. 

The undeniable feeling of being watched makes your neck prickle, and you break Mike's gaze to find Hange staring at both of you, a not-so-subtle smile making their mouth curl mischievously. You have a pretty good idea of what they're thinking, and you're heart starts beating a little faster at the thought of them possibly speaking it out loud, but before they get a chance, Mike's phone rings. 

You catch a glimpse of the name displayed before he picks it up—Gelgar—recognize it and tease, "One of the doomsday preppers, right?" 

Because no matter how much Mike denies it, just like he does now— "They're not doomsday preppers—" you know that his friends are a little odd. Extremely well prepared, but odd. 

"Hey man, what's up?" He answers, stepping away from you. "Isn't it almost two there?" 

You don't try to listen in, just look back to Hange and shake your head when their smile grows. 

"Stop."

"What?" They giggle. "I'm not even doing anything!" 

"You're thinking things, though."

"Well yeah, I'm always thinking things. How else would I have gotten this smart?" They flip their ponytail for emphasis and toss a wink your way, but Hange's voice gets oddly sincere when they tell you, "Seriously, though. You guys should get while the getting's good. I don't know why you haven't jumped each other's bones yet."

You splutter, look around frantically to make sure Mike isn't within earshot, and thank god, he's in the next room over. 

"Hange!" 

"I'm just saying! It's like watching Erwin and Levi from a few years ago. God, that was a nightmare."

"How dare you. I am nothing like—"

"Yeah, yeah. When do they get back in anyway?" 

You both look to the TV that's still playing the live address, easily spotting your missing team members behind Secretary Pixis. 

"Probably not 'til later tonight. Levi's gonna try to talk Erwin into getting a hotel, I bet, but he's gonna wanna come back to the lab and check everything before he goes to bed."

"How do you know he wants to come back?" 

You show a sheepish grin, fishing the chips out of the paper sack Mike brought, then answer, "'Cause that’s what I’d wanna do."

*

It's late. Far too late to be at work, but being at home never feels right these days. It's too quiet, too still, too not the lab. The only time you genuinely enjoy being there is when friends are over for a movie or meal over the weekend. Other than that, you're not at all attached. 

Not the way you are here.

Almost midnight, you move from table to table, working, organizing, just keeping busy. You're very awake, still jittery from the quake that shook the park at around three that day. It lasted for almost three minutes, splitting the ground dangerously close to Old Faithful, and the geyser hasn't gone off since which is troubling. If too many of the geothermal spots stop releasing pressure, the eruption will take place sooner than anticipated. 

It's why you're here so late, pouring over the data, studying the numbers and possible effects. 

You're not alone, though. Erwin is also shuffling around the lab, but he's focused on something else, a project of sorts. 

"Can you come take a look at this?" He calls from the projection table, and you drop what you're doing to join him. 

The model isn't lit up as a hologram, surprisingly. Instead, Erwin has paper blueprints laid, curling at the edges from being rolled up. It takes you a second to realize what you're looking at, but when it comes together, you inhale sharply. 

It's a simple design, a square floorplan with a couple entrances. The only exit looks to lead upward, though, and it's easy to tell that means Erwin wants this to be underground. There are notes scribbled in the blank spaces, 4 meters down, bomb proof top, ventilation, generators, gasoline?, rations < 5yrs, medicine, vitamins, guns. The list goes on, handwriting sloppier and sloppier the more thoughts Erwin had at the time. 

"You think this would be ready in a year?"

Erwin shrugs. "With the right construction team, yes. That one bunker designer…" Erwin snaps, trying to think of the name, but it doesn't come to him. "Whoever—He built ten shelters in two years." 

You stick your hands in your back pockets as you lean over to look closer. It could just be your overworked brain, but it looks like a good design, something someone actually has a chance of surviving in. 

Hearing your name makes you look up again. Erwin has you pinned with one of his serious blue gazes. "No one else will understand, so please keep this plan to yourself."

You nod but venture to ask, "You haven't told Levi?" 

"No," he answers, mouth pulling downward. "It's… Going to be a fight."

"Understandably so. You're basically married to the volcano, though, Erwin."

"So are you."

His eyes are shining as your lips twist into a grimace. He's gotten to know you well over the years. You've always shared a certain bond over Yellowstone, one the other team members just don't have. To them, it's just a job, just science. 

To you and Erwin, though, it's a religion. You're in love with the park, all its secrets and eccentricities. It's your home; it's where you belong. 

"Assuming this does get built," Erwin starts, lifting a thick eyebrow in curiosity. "You would want to stay, right?" 

"You mean, ride out a supereruption? Be the first to see the zone-one damage?" 

Erwin doesn't answer, but he does smile, excitement dancing just below the surface of his stare. 

You feel it too, the urge to throw caution to the wind, to take a chance that could very possibly get you both killed. The Kraffts flash through your mind again, their failed attempt at escape.

A breathless, "Fuck yeah," tumbles from your mouth before you can dwell on the consequences for too long. 

It's time to either live it up or go down in ash and flames. 

6  M O N T H S  B E F O R E 

Yellowstone is unrecognizable. The ground is mostly made up of large crevasses and smaller cracks, debris from fallen buildings left in piles with no one to clean them up. 

The geysers are all inactive at this point, but steam is still rising from the springs, and the mudpots are still bubbling. It's the only thing that's keeping the volcano from erupting. 

The ground shakes multiple times a day, the lab seismographs constantly picking up activity. The little ones don't faze you anymore. You and Mike secure the glass samples to make sure they don't break while Erwin and Levi basically hug their computers. Yours was damaged in the quake that prompted Hange and Moblit to leave—a 6.7 that caused Hange to fall into their desk, breaking their collarbone in the process. After getting Hange pain meds and a sling, the two of them were on a plane to D.C. that same night. 

Every day is another risk taken. Now, it's just you, Erwin, Levi, and Mike. 

The latter two spend most of their days dropping hints about leaving soon as well. Mike has already made plans to fly to Norway and join his not-doomsday prepper friends and brings it up often.

"You should come. See the tulip fields while they're still around."

"Gel and Nana have done a great job setting up the ranch. They wanna let as many people stay as they can." 

"You'd really like them. They bicker like an old married couple, but they're good people."

Levi takes a different approach with Erwin, appeals to the other man's desire to help and protect. 

"We really should head to the homeland security office. They don't know what they're dealing with."

"Dok is an idiot. They need a bigger brain over there for guidance or whatever."

"Your long-term plan will be better than anything those government fucks will come up with anyway."

Every time, you and Erwin gently wave them off with promises of "soon" and "just a little longer." Neither of you breathe a word about staying. Despite the fact that construction on the bunker has not started and you're running out of time, both of you are dead set on the plan: go down with the park. 

You're found out before it can come to fruition, however. 

The remaining team is sitting in the lab, busy with their own little projects, when Mike looks up suddenly, takes a deep breath, then says, "Earthquake," just as the seismogram starts going wild. 

He pulls you from your chair quickly, dropping to the ground and bringing you with him to crawl under your desk. On your knees, your body curls in on itself and you lock your hands over the back of your neck as the floor beneath you starts to rumble violently. 

You can hear Levi cursing from somewhere as the sound of glass shattering rings throughout the lab. You think another computer falls, models and books flying from shelves. 

Mike huddles over you, one hand gripping the leg of the desk while the other protects your ribs. You want to tell him to shield himself, but you know there's no use. Besides, the weight and warmth is comforting even in the face of danger—his chest hot against your back, the epitome of a knight in shining armor. 

It lasts for several minutes. The power cuts off, windows crack, doors swing open only to slam shut again. You know the lab is going to be an absolute wreck when it's over. 

When the shaking finally settles, everyone crawls out of their hiding places. Levi warns, "Be ready for aftershocks," as if you don't know, and Erwin fumbles in his desk until he finds a flashlight. 

The ray of light illuminates the damage. Just as you suspected, the place looks like a tornado blew through. Glass litters the floor along with the far-flung books and park models. Both Levi and Erwin's computers fell and disconnected, and your stomach drops as you think about all the potentially lost information. 

"You okay?" Mike asks, pulling you up to your knees so he can look at your face. 

"I'm fine," you tell him, his hands on your cheeks making you flush, so you distract yourself. "E, Levi, you guys okay?" 

"Yes," Erwin answers first. 

Levi shows his face, a deep frown making his brow furrow, as he looks at his desktop. "I'm pissed but uninjured."

The four of you spend the next couple of hours cleaning up what you can, pausing and taking cover when the aftershocks hit, then starting over as the lab sustains more and more damage. 

Mike sweeps up the glass. Erwin focuses on getting the computers back on the desks safely then goes and checks the projection table. You and Levi collect the bigger items, setting books back on shelves. 

You don't think about the mistake before it's too late, when Levi is already pulling out the blueprints that were hidden behind the stack of encyclopedias. 

As he stills completely, you turn to look at him and find him staring down at the large, uncurled papers. Your instinct is to snatch them from his hands, but it's no use. He's already seen enough. 

"What the fuck is this?" His voice comes out like poison as he immediately looks at Erwin. 

The larger man glances at Levi, eyes trailing to what he's holding, then pales. 

"Levi..."

"Is this a god damn bunker? Are you planning on staying in this hellscape?" 

Erwin strides over to him and reaches for the prints, but Levi tugs them out of reach. 

"Answer me," he spits. "Is that your plan?"

"I—" Erwin swallows thickly before answering, "Yes."

It's silent for a long time, and the more it drags on, the tighter Levi's lips get, gray eyes shiny with quiet rage. 

This is what Erwin was trying to avoid, why he insisted on keeping the bunker a secret. 

But while Levi is glaring at Erwin, you feel another gaze on you. Skin crawling, you chance a glance up at Mike, stomach churning when he looks away quickly and bites his lips. He knows. Somehow without anyone saying anything, Mike knows you’re planning to stay too.

Heavy breathing and the distant sound of rumbling earth is all that can be heard, followed by backup generators roaring to life and restoring the overhead lights. 

"You too?" Mike finally speaks. “You wanna stay too?”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, unable to answer. He sounds so disappointed—defeated—and it makes you feel sick. 

"Do you guys know," Levi growls, "How fucking insane that is? This is the dumbest, most reckless, selfish fucking thing you could do! And, I know it's all your thinking!" He drops the blueprints in favor of shoving Erwin roughly, making him stumble back. 

"Hey," you step toward him, but the small man just turns to you and accuses, "And, you egged him on, yeah? Did you even think of us? How we would feel? Staying here is suicide!"

"I have a plan, Levi," Erwin says, raising both hands to his head and effectively disheveling his own hair. "If you just look at the plans. I know what we need to survive. I've done the math, I've studied the—"

"Jesus Christ, we're talking about an eight hundred degree pyroclastic flow! Tephra that will suffocate you. You really think being a few meters down during the eruption will be enough?" Levi is screaming now, his voice cracking, and you think you see tears at his waterline. 

It makes the spaces behind your eyes burn, but it’s only partly out of guilt. The other emotion that’s welling up in you is anger, a betrayal you can barely wrap your head around, but it comes tumbling out anyway.

“Do you even know us? You think we can actually leave the park behind?” Your voice rises to match Levi’s, gains his acidic attention once again. “I don’t even understand how you can run away, after everything you’ve put into this place! How can you just—” You let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a cry as you raise your hands to your face and shove your palms to your eyes. “I get Mike because he doesn’t have anything fucking left here. He’s just been helping out—”

“You think I don’t have anything left here?” He asks quietly from beside you, and when you look at him with a watery stare, you find him wounded. His jaw slides forward as he sucks on his teeth, and fuck, his eyes are getting glossy too. 

“See, this is exactly what I mean,” Levi gestures wildly at the two of you. “Mike and I have stayed because you guys won’t fucking leave, and now it comes out that you were never planning to. When were you gonna tell us? Would you have even given us enough time to get out?”

“Of course!” Erwin takes him by the shoulders, and Levi snarls up at him. “I was working up to it. I wasn’t ready to—to deal with this.”

“I can’t believe this. You really think a whole team of workers is gonna come out here to help build this? You wanna put their lives in jeopardy too?”

“We—”

“You haven’t even thought this through all the way! When did you come up with this? When you hadn’t slept or eaten in forty-eight hours? When your brain wasn’t fucking functioning at full capacity?”

Erwin stays quiet, and so do you because Levi has a point. Taking care of yourselves physically has not been high on either of your lists of priorities, and you’re sure your mental state has suffered for it. All the nights spent at the projection table, mapping out ideas, growing giddy over the idea of staying for the eruption. Was that just two people high off passion, becoming more and more unhinged with each passing day?

Quite possibly. 

You expect the fury to be enough to push Levi away, that he’ll simply give up, drag Mike out with him, and leave you and Erwin to hunker down like you’d planned.

But, that is not the case. 

Instead, he shoves a thin finger into Erwin’s chest, gritting out, “Pack your fucking bags so we can go to D.C. where they need you.”

Erwin takes a breath then slumps in defeat. Now, when faced with the obstacle that is his boyfriend, you figure he’s weighed the pros and cons and made a decision. Between his love for the park and his love for Levi, he’d rather salvage the latter. 

Mike shifts next to you, grumbles out a low, “You too,” that makes the tears finally fall from your eyes. “I’ll take you on one last ride to the springs, but then we’re leaving.”

He stays true to his word, and you cry the entire time you’re in the chopper, headset smushed against one ear as you rest your head on the window and look down at the Grand Prismatic, the steam rising from it. It’s beginning to grow discolored with all the activity, but it’s more stunning now than it’s ever been. 

Soon, it’ll be completely covered. All of it will. And, you could have been too, stuck underground for a couple of years only to be the first to step out into the pure destruction. 

That’s not an option anymore, though, not with Mike looking as grave as he does, not with the way he shadows you in your apartment as you gather the necessities, like he thinks you’re going to bolt and run back to the lab, not when the two of you meet back up with a still-fuming Levi and a despondent Erwin to head to the airport.

The tickets are outrageously priced at such short notice, but that doesn’t stop Levi and Mike from passing their credit cards over.

“Two for Washington D.C.”

“And, two for Bergen, Norway.”

Boarding passes in hand, the four of you walk through the bustling airport together for as long as you can before you have to inevitably split up. Levi glares at you but still pulls you into a tight hug, grunts into your ear, “You’re so stupid,” before letting go and turning to Mike. “Keep her safe, boy scout. I’m trusting you.”

Mike nods, and both of them clasp hands as you turn to look at Erwin. Tears and pathetic sniffles return when you walk into his open arms, clinging to him and mumbling, “‘M sorry, ‘m sorry. I would’ve followed you.”

“I know.” He rubs your back and heaves a sigh. “I know you would have.”

He eventually disentangles you to hold you at arm’s length, wipes the moisture from your face with his thumbs, then shows a sad smile. “See you in a few years, yes?”

“Yeah.”

One more squeeze, and everyone turns away to walk to their respective gate. Mike’s hand splays across your back, warm, guiding you in the right direction, keeping you steady. He’s always kept your feet planted firmly on the ground. You figure, if there’s one person you’d like to experience the downfall of society with—above ground—it’s him. 

S I X  W E E K S  B E F O R E

Norway is kind of incredible. It has a natural beauty that takes your breath away just like Yellowstone used to, but it’s vastly different. Everything is green, including the lights in the sky at night. You’re surrounded by rolling hills and mountains, and you just know it’ll be beautiful under thick layers of snow. 

The once rustic ranch, now restored, is made up of several small houses and a farm full of cows and goats. It’s sad to think about the fate they will eventually meet (slaughter then stomachs), but you know it’s necessary to prepare for the coming years.

And, the owners have definitely prepared. 

Gelgar and Nanaba are everything Mike described and more. Between taking care of the farm and setting up energy sources, they do their best to make you and the other arrivals feel at home. They’ve designed the ranch to house up to about thirty people, a commune of sorts (minus any cult-like vibes). Naturally, everyone pitches in and helps around the place. You find yourself cleaning a lot, but you don’t mind. It’s a nice, mindless task that keeps you from thinking too hard about everything you’ve left behind. 

You also like to join Nana outside, help with the animals and enjoy the sunshine while you still can. Of course, this subjects you to endless teasing especially today when she catches you staring into the distance at Mike who's helping Gelgar fix a solar panel. 

His shirt is starting to stick to his back from sweating, muscles straining under the damp cloth, and good lord, when did he get that broad? Sure, he's always been tall and fit, but working on the homestead has definitely made him more built. That along with the fact that his hair has gotten long enough to tie up in a bun has your mouth going a little dry. 

"Like what you see?" Nanaba asks, accent thick, voice full of amusement. 

You shoot her a look, face all scrunched up when you mumble, "Don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh?" She sticks her tongue out. "Don't be coy. I see the way you both look at each other."

"Tch." 

"And, how both of you volunteer to cook with the other when it's your turn to. You move around each other like you know exactly where the other is. Two halves of a whole."

You roll your eyes. "We've just worked together for a while. We make a good team."

She's not wrong, though. Since coming to Norway, you and Mike have grown even closer. There was a period of time when you could hardly look at him, too guilty for trying to stay at the park, guilty for hurting him, but eventually the two of you fell back into your normal dynamic—joking, laughing, touching just a little too much, smiling when you think no one's looking. You even spent an afternoon together in a nearby field of flowers, just like he'd promised. With a picnic basket full of food, and a blanket to lay on, you'd admired the clouds overhead while enjoying the rustling grass surrounding you. 

It's been your favorite day since coming here, had reminded you of the lunches you used to share on the mountain. 

You're not brave enough to make any sort of move, though. Mike is just so good. There's a chance his affections are simply based in friendship, and that's something you're scared to ruin. He means too much to you. 

"How long did you work together?"

"Like, four years, give or take a few months."

"And, you're still acting like nothing is there?" Nanaba tsks. "Ridiculous."

"How long did it take you and Gel to get together?" You ask, then quickly backtrack, "Not that that's what I want with Mike necessarily."

"Mhm," she smirks. "Gel and I did it backwards. Got pissed at a bar and fell into bed together. Then we started to get to know each other and found out we just worked."

Sounds about right, you think. The couple has an interesting back-and-forth, half bickering, half innuendo. You can always, always see the love in their eyes, though. That's what you want in life. That’s what you want with Mike. Even if you won't admit it out loud. 

You turn your gaze back to the roof he and Gelgar are on just in time to see him making his way down the ladder. Once on the ground, he and the other man start striding over to you. Mike's face is red, sweat beading at his hairline, and Gelgar's pompadour is beginning to fall. 

"Think we got it fixed up," Mike announces, lifting the bottom hem of his shirt to wipe his forehead. 

You stare at his toned stomach for just a little too long, the lines of his hip bones leading into the waistband of his jeans. 

Nanaba's words ring in your head again—fell into bed, fell into bed, fell into bed—and you fixate on the idea of you and Mike doing the same. To have him hovering over you, or maybe you over him, thighs on either side of those hips as his hands trail up your body—

You shake the thought from your head, letting your glazed eyes refocus on the men in front of you. 

"Alright, I'm gonna grab a shower before dinner. Who's cooking tonight?"

“I believe it's Lynne and Henning," Nana answers. 

Mike nods then heads toward the little house he's been living in, right next to yours, of course. He reaches out to let his hand brush yours as he passes, and it takes conscious effort not to grip onto one or two of his large fingers and follow him. 

"God, that's painful to watch," Gelgar snorts. 

Nana laughs and agrees, "I was just telling her the same thing."

"Oh, shut up. Ya' couple of meddlers."

*

A line forms every evening outside of the main house, the one Gelgar and Nanaba share. You and Mike stand together at the back, watching everyone in front of you. Some are families, some are couples, some are here alone. You figure, no matter their status, the ranch is a nice place to be—peaceful, home-y despite its size. So far, everyone gets along. 

Only the kids complain about chores, about seven of them constantly running around together, but that’s to be expected, and honestly, you don’t mind picking up their slack. Life is about to get very difficult for them. They should get to be children for a little while longer. 

Potato soup is poured into your bowl with a ladle, topped with shredded beef and green onions, then you and Mike retire back to your little cottage home to eat and watch TV. It stays on the same channel, world news, and there’s always a long segment that covers Yellowstone and what it’s doing. 

It is not uncommon at all to look up from your food and see Erwin or Levi’s face on screen, speaking with experts, sometimes in interview-like settings.

Tonight, they’re covering a problem that’s been going on for some time, but everyone figured would resolve itself: some people will not leave the most dangerous zones, and it’s because they simply do not believe an eruption will take place. 

Even with the evidence, the science backing it—even with actual federal authorities knocking on their doors and telling them to leave—there are many people who just want to stay put. It’s insane to you, makes your blood boil. Children have been taken from their homes to be placed in safer areas, which only causes the disbelievers to get angrier. They want to say “I told you so”, but that’s not going to happen. 

What’s going to happen is getting burned alive in the flow that pours from the volcano. They will die a painful death, get buried under meters of fallout, ash, snow. There’ll be nothing to recover except for petrified, charred corpses. 

Of course, the irony is not lost on you; you and Erwin were both willing to chance similar fates, but you still think the two of you would have been more prepared than these regular-Joes who think their front door is enough to stop a volcanic eruption. 

“In the end, there’s no reasoning with people like this,” Erwin says on camera, a soft, sad smile playing at his lips. “When a person is so, uh… Dead set on staying, it will take an unstoppable force to move them.”

In your case, that unstoppable force had been Levi screaming at you while holding back tears. 

“Unfortunately for them, this force is the eruption, and they won’t be able to leave when that occurs.”

“Because they’ll be dead,” the reporter states more than asks.

Erwin nods and answers with a grim, “Yes. Yes, they will be.”

They’re not trying to be subtle, obviously hoping that this will get through to the stubborn masses, but you doubt it will. They’re living on borrowed time at this point. Any day could be their last.

Mike is quieter than usual as he eats, barely even looking at the television screen, and you have a feeling he’s thinking about how close you were to staying alongside those stupid assholes. It’s still a touchy subject, one both of you do your best to avoid. You’re mostly happy to be in Europe, spending your days with Mike and his friends and everyone else running around here. 

But, there’s also a part of you, deep down inside, that aches, that misses the park, that still wants to be right in the middle of the destruction. Watching it blow from so far away is going to hurt. This massive monster you’ve fallen in love with over the years will never be the same, and your last good look at it was that tearful helicopter ride. 

You’re not resentful toward Mike or Levi for dragging you out of the lab that day, but you are grieving in a sense. 

The program ends with Erwin giving one last warning— “If you insist on staying, I’d advise bomb-proofing your home, stocking up on several years-worth of rations, and installing one hell of a ventilation system. Good luck.”

Mike clears his throat and stands, grabbing his empty bowl as well as yours, then heads into the kitchen to rinse them off. 

Sighing, you follow him, lean against the counter a couple feet away as you think of something to say that won’t sound too forced.

“Hey,” you start.

Mike gives a low, “Hm?” as he holds the dishes under hot water, finally glancing over when you gently nudge him in the side.

“Thanks for…” You take a deep breath, pinned by light green eyes, then try again. “Thanks for bringing me here.” He blinks but doesn’t say anything, so you continue. “It’s really nice. And, I’ve bonded or whatever with Nana.”

“But, you miss the park,” he says.

You shrug. “I mean, yeah. That park was my life, but… Probably dying in it was not one of my brighter ideas.”

He snorts, shuts off the water, then turns to you. Craning your neck, you take in his face—really take it in—the few strands of hair that hang freely past his jawline, the way his beard, no longer stubble but not exactly thick, forms around his mouth and connects with his sideburns, his strong, slightly curved nose, how his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. He’s so painfully handsome, especially all shaggy and rugged, and it makes your heart beat too hard and too fast in your chest. 

Mike dries his hands on a dish towel, looking down at them when he tells you, “I’m glad we were able to get you out of there. It’s not something I’ll ever feel bad about. Even if you hate me for it.”

“I don’t hate you,” you scoff. “Never could. You’re my best friend, Mike.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smile, then think of Nanaba earlier that day and laugh quietly. 

“What?”

You wave a hand, shake your head. “Nothing, nothing, just… Nana has… Ideas, or something.”

There’s no need to elaborate. Mike understands what you’re trying to say. He inhales then breathes out it out in a chuckle as he posts up against the counter next to you. “Yeah, Gelgar does too.”

“Guess they don’t know us very well.”

A silence hangs between the two of you, one that would normally be comfortable but is now a little thick given the subject matter of your conversation.

You and Mike. Just earlier that day you had been thinking about how scared you are to ruin the friendship, but the more you imagine, the more you get lost in the fantasy…

“Or maybe…” You glance over to see Mike nibbling on his bottom lip, eyes fixed on the ground as he continues, “Maybe they know us better than we know ourselves.”

He raises his head, gaze locking with yours, and you stop breathing. Because that stare is so hesitant, searching for something inside of you as if you have the answer, but you’re just as scared and confused as he is. Over four years of friendship—of good, meaningful friendship—is that worth risking just because you’re both curious? 

Or has it all been leading to this since the start? Since those first, short conversations, since the meals shared with one another, the affectionate gestures. Mike has always kept your head on straight, looked after you with even more care than he had with the park’s wildlife. 

You thought it’d all been one-sided pining, that he was just glad to have someone who understood him a little better than everyone else because you do. You understand his passion for the planet, you understand all his little fixations. You appreciate every eccentricity like he appreciates all your neuroses. 

“Maybe so…” 

Two very large hands are on your face, tilting upward, and your lungs begin to burn as Mike strokes just under your eyes with the pads of his thumbs. He has to lean down quite a bit, pauses just over your lips to let out a tiny huff of surprise, disbelief, awe maybe, then closes the rest of the miniscule distance. 

He is very warm and very firm against you—feels good, all the comfort of someone familiar but still so new. Your lips fit together perfectly, and at last, you’re able to breathe again, mouths moving in an experimental back and forth, feeling each other out until he runs the tip of his tongue along the seam of your lips. Gripping strong shoulders, you let the kiss deepen, opening your mouth for him, and Mike groans when he’s finally able to taste you. 

Hands fall from your face, moving down, down, down, brushing your ribs, settling at your hips, but his fingers are long enough to curl and dig into the meat of your ass, making you gasp and press harder against him.

Rolling his pelvis into yours, you very quickly find yourself pinned between Mike’s body and the counter. Your grasp travels to the back of his neck, pulling him closer—you just need him closer—and he must feel it too because he hoists you up and sets you on the countertop, making room for himself between your legs.

You feel too hot and too desperate, but it’s good, a release that’s needed to happen for far too long. All manner of geothermal metaphors swim through your mind, spurting geysers and boiling mudpots, and it makes you giggle against him, biting down on his bottom lip and smiling around the flesh as he lets out another one of those rumbling, satisfied noises. 

“What’re you laughin’ at?” Mike mumbles, and for some reason, it’s strange to hear his voice so close, so quiet, as you’re pressed together, breathing each other’s air. It’s intimate and different, but it’s right. 

“I’m just…” Another little laugh, “Thinking about the volcano.”

“When are you not thinking about the volcano?” You have a feeling he’s rolling his eyes, but he still grins and kisses you again.

“It’s all dirty things if that helps.”

Mike nods slowly, lips trailing from your mouth toward your neck. “Helps some.”

You tilt your head to give him better access and let out a little whine when you feel him bite down on a patch of skin just beneath the notch of your jaw, wrap your legs around his waist and do your best to rock into him because good god, you want him. 

Fingers tangling under his loosening bun, you tug him back to your mouth, slotting your lips against his and sliding your tongue between his teeth. He presses you closer with a hand on the small of your back, squeezing the air from your lungs so all you can breathe is him. 

“Mm, Mike, Mike,” you pant, barely breaking away only for him to chase after. You laugh, push his chest at the same time you gently tug at his hair, and he backs away just enough for you to get a good look at his half-lidded eyes and spit-slicked lips. 

Honestly, staring at him now, you can’t believe you made so long without ever making a pass at him. He’s gorgeous, built like a roman statue only larger, with sun-kissed skin and a startlingly light gaze that threatens to leave you boneless. 

“D’you wanna, maybe…” You swallow and blink up at him, too many questions suddenly invading your mind—is it too early for sex? Will he think you’re easy? What if it doesn’t actually work out? But, you bite the bullet anyway and finish, “Go to the bedroom?” 

Mike is silent for a few beats, leaving you to second guess yourself and brace for disappointment and embarrassment, but then he clicks his tongue and answers, “Uh, yeah. Yes, let’s do that,” in a voice a little higher than usual, and scoops you from the counter.

Every little house on the ranch is laid out the same, so it does not take him long to find your room. He sets you down at the threshold, and from there, it’s a flurry of discarded clothing and stumbling to the bed.

“How have we never done this before?” He huffs, crawling over you, leaving wet kisses in his wake. 

You’ve still got an arm covering your bare chest, but Mike doesn’t seem self-conscious in the slightest which comes as a surprise considering how reserved he typically is. Not that he has anything worth hiding—not the thin layer of hair that dances over his barrel chest, not the ridiculously cut abdominals or sharp ‘V’ of his hips, and definitely not the thick cock bobbing against his stomach as he moves. You would be intimidated if you didn’t know him as well as you do, but you’re sure that he’ll be gentle with you. Mike may be many things, but careless is not one of them.

He reaches your mouth, kisses you so deeply it makes you dizzy, and as he does, he very slowly pulls your arm from your chest, leaving you vulnerable—free for the taking. 

His touch is soft enough to tickle as he brushes over one of your nipples, making you exhale against him and arch your back like a silent plea for more. He traces around the bud, makes it pebble before carefully rolling it between two fingers.

Warmth spills into your gut, makes you squirm on the bed, and a moan makes its way from your throat as Mike gently tugs at the sensitive flesh. He lowers his head again, lavishing the same kind of attention on your other nipple with his mouth. He nibbles and licks and sucks, and you wriggle and whimper beneath him, one hand trailing down his body until you’re able to close your fingers around the head of his cock. 

Mike grunts, thrusts into your hand a couple times, enough to make precum drool from his tip, but before he can get too carried away, he says just above a whisper, “Let me get you ready,” then moves to lay between your spread legs.

Sliding his arms under your thighs, he locks them into place, and you release a shaky breath, feeling his eyes taking you in for several seconds before licking up your slit once then pushing deeper.

“Oh, fu—”

Both your hands shoot downward, one gripping the messy bun at the back of his head as you shudder at the sensation of his beard against your pussy. You’re wet in seconds, core pulsing as Mike uses his tongue to slowly open you up, then pulls back to flick over your clit. 

“Mike—Mike—”

He hums into you, shaking his head slowly back and forth, no doubt making a mess of his face and you. You don’t have anything to say, just feel your throat tightening like there are unspoken words that need to come out, but you can’t think straight, not when he’s doing what he’s doing, not when you feel the tips of his fingers reaching out to spread your lips. 

He is thorough bordering on methodical, makes sure you’re at the point of full body shakes before he gives you a break, and then, when your breathing returns to a normal rate, he starts all over again. There is a tightness in your gut that builds and builds then dissipates every time he stops, and he must know because when you whine in frustration, Mike just grins and kisses the inside of your thighs. 

The same pattern is repeated with his fingers, just one at first, massaging your walls perfectly, then a second that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. He rubs over the swelling tissue inside of you, seems to enjoy every little gasp and noise you make, including the unsatisfied one you let out when he pulls his fingers from you. 

You can feel how damp the bedspread is underneath you, can see the evidence of your arousal on Mike’s face, and it makes you flush but doesn’t stop you from tugging him down for another messy kiss. 

“You ready?” He asks, sounding just as breathless as you feel, and you nod furiously, bending your knees and planting your feet on the mattress so that you can lift your hips to his. 

Mike chuckles, reaches down between the two of you to take hold of his length and taps your clit with his cockhead a couple times—simultaneously the most infuriating and most erotic thing you’ve ever experienced. Slowly, he lines himself up, just barely pushing forward, and when you bite your lip and squeeze your eyes shut, Mike tells you to, “Breathe, baby, open up for me.”

He already sounds wrecked, like he’s fighting the urge to just sheathe himself entirely, but he waits, giving you one inch at a time with periods of adjustment in between. You always sort of figured he was big, but this burning stretch is something you hadn’t imagined even in your lewdest of fantasies. You’re incredibly full, feel him in your gut and throat and everywhere, but it isn’t bad; it’s just a lot. 

“Okay,” you stroke the forearm next to your head and nod. “Okay, you can start moving more.”

Mike’s brow creases. “You’re sure?”

“About as sure as I can be with a monster cock inside m-me—” Your laugh turns to a moan as Mike begins to pull out, eyes trained on your face for any sign of real discomfort, but your mouth just drops open, your own eyebrows raising at the feeling of his length hitting every one of your most sensitive spots. 

“Holy…”

He pushes back in quickly, still mindful of what your body can take, and when all you do is cry his name and scratch down his back, Mike starts up a steady rhythm that has you seeing god. 

That tightness is back, hotter than before, threatening to burn you up entirely as your cunt flutters and spasms and leaks around Mike’s length. 

The sound of a hoarse groan makes you open your eyes, and you follow Mike’s line of vision to where you’re connected, see his cock sliding in and out of you, dripping slick and ringed in white cream toward the base. The sight makes you clench around him, and Mike swears under his breath then leans forward to gather you in his arms. Your head lolls back as he lifts you, sitting on his knees for just a second before falling onto his back and letting you drop onto him. 

You choke, and Mike pants, but his hands are tight at your hips, moving you up and down his length like a sleeve. His pupils are blown wide when you look down at him, hair nearly entirely out of its tie, bottom row of teeth exposed as his jaw slides almost primally. 

He looks completely lost in you, possessed as he fucks up into your pussy rougher than before. You bounce in his lap, whimpering his name with every thrust, growing in volume when you feel a finger press against your clit. 

“You gonna come for me?” Mike grits out, rubbing a circle over the swollen bundle as his eyes flick from your chest to your face. 

You nod, ignoring the burning in your thighs in favor of the sensation between your hips. “Yeah, I—I—Fuck, Mike—”

“Come on, baby, come on—wanted to see this for years, come all over my cock…”

You snap, legs shaking as your climax crashes through you. Your cunt pulses around Mike, coating him in more of your juices and making him groan and fuck you through it. You whine at the stimulation, swollen walls so sensitive yet taking everything he has to give you.

Every thrust to your g-spot makes you gush a little more, come a little longer, until all you can do is fall onto his chest and let him use you as he needs to. You leave marks on his pecs, bites and scratches, and Mike grunts at every one of them until he sits up and flips you once again.

“Where do you want me?”

“Anywhere, I don’t care, I don’t care,” you babble.

Mike inhales sharply then lets out a long groan as he pulls out and shoots his load onto your stomach. It’s warm and thick, some pooling in your belly button as Mike makes a trail down to your clit where he smears the last few drops. You twitch at the contact, hole clenching around nothing now, but you can already feel soreness settling into your muscles. 

Mike gives you two little pecks on the mouth, then one last, longer kiss before rolling to lay on the mattress beside you, chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

This silence doesn’t bother you. It gives you time to come back to your senses, to reflect, to remember everything that was said which leads you to ask, “You meant that—about wanting this for years?”

Mike turns his head and smiles so sincerely it almost brings tears to your eyes. 

“Well, yeah. Been in love with you pretty much since I started at the park.”

He says it so casually, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and maybe it is, but it still makes your breath catch. 

“Seriously?” You turn to lay on your side, and Mike mimics the action, propping his head up with one hand while he lets the other settle on your waist. 

He lifts an eyebrow and questions, “Is that so hard to believe?” 

“No, I just… Thought it was one-sided on my end, I guess. Like, we were too good of friends.” Mike leans forward to gently headbutt you, and you snort to yourself, “Guess I was wrong.”

“We were both being stupid,” he mumbles. “But, we were also focused on other things, married to the job or whatever.”

Lifting your face makes him lift his, and you smile into another kiss, feeling happier and more balanced than you have in a very long time. 

Without much more discussion, you and Mike get up to rinse off, sharing more soft touches under the spray of the shower before crawling into bed together. Falling asleep feels like coming home.

You don’t even mind the smug grin on Nanaba’s face when she sees you and Mike leave your house together in the morning, nor the teasing jabs Gelgar throws your way over lunch. You don’t know if anything is capable of knocking you out of your perfect, peaceful little world on this perfect, peaceful little homestead.

Except maybe a supereruption, of course. 

E - D A Y 

It happens right in the middle of the morning news. You and Mike are sipping on coffee, expecting the same report you’ve gotten every day— “Nothing yet, closely monitoring, blah blah”—but as the English news anchor tries to introduce the meteorologist, he stops, holds a hand to the speaker in his ear, then looks at the camera with wide yes. 

“I’m—I’m getting news that the Yellowstone supervolcano has just begun to erupt, we’re cutting to the US address at Washington D.C. now—”

And just like that, Levi’s face is suddenly on screen, picking him up mid-sentence. 

“... One vent open at the present time, but more will open shortly. Stay indoors, ration your food. This is what we’ve been preparing for.” He looks tired, and when you do the math, you understand why: seven AM in Norway is one AM in D.C., meaning Levi was probably woken up to make the announcement. 

As always, you can make out Erwin’s figure behind him, hands clasped tight and shaking, and it isn’t until Mike puts a hand on your shoulder that you realize you are trembling right along with your old boss.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” he reassures you. “We’re gonna be okay here.”

You nod and let him pull you closer to him as both of you look back to the screen and listen to what your old colleagues have to say.

The news stays on for the rest of the day. At around ten, the second vent opens up. Then another. Then another. Levi keeps track, expression never betraying the fear he must be feeling, even when he delivers the message that a full ring around the caldera has opened up. 

“Obviously, we can’t get in close enough to look, but we estimate at least two thousand four hundred and fifty cubic kilometers of eruptible magma will pour from the volcano. That’s the size of the eruption from around two million years ago, but it could be worse with the current number of vents…”

The journalists on site, usually so ready to ask questions and challenge Levi, are silent today, and you imagine they’re staring with eyes the size of saucers, not quite believing what they’re hearing because it’s happening. It’s finally happening. 

You eat a quiet, solemn lunch at Nanaba and Gelgar’s, no one knowing what to say. You feel nauseous, stunned, not unlike losing a loved one. You’re able to forget the absolute destruction taking place in the states for a few minutes at a time, but it always comes back to you, punching you in the gut with the same, brute force every time.

The park. The lab. The forests. The towns. Cities, states, homes, lives, all wiped off the map. 

Erwin takes Levi’s place as public speaker close to five, probably to let the other man get some sleep, and reports that the portable seismogram, still linked to the remaining seismographs located around the park, show that there are near continuous earthquakes taking place, “Which could either help should enough earth shift to block the magma chamber, or make things worse by disrupting it further.”

“E is not very good at keeping people’s hopes up,” you mutter, and Mike chuckles.

“Yeah, I see why he makes Levi do all the talking now.”

You both receive texts from the rest of the team, Levi’s coming at an appropriate time but the others reaching you at odd hours of the night when you’re nestled in Mike’s arms.

Neither of you sleep as reality sets in the rest of the way. That was it. The beginning of the end of everything you know. Everything is about to change.

You sniff, try to be as quiet as possible as the tears you’ve been holding back all day finally begin to fall, but Mike knows, feels your body stiffen as you curl into yourself. 

He hugs you close to him but doesn’t say anything, just rests his cheek against yours and holds your hand. 

There’s nothing anyone can say to make this better, no amount of optimism or determination that will make this any easier. Your home is covered in miles of pyroclastic flow, and as it hasn’t stopped yet, you know this is just the start. Soon, anything left alive will be suffocated by the tephra, people, animals, and vegetation alike. Though you won’t die where you are, everyone at the ranch will be feeling the effects soon enough.

Your mother calls from France where her and your dad decided to “vacation” for the next several years. She’s worked up about not being able to get through to you for almost an entire day, and even as you reassure her that you’re mostly fine, she hears the way your voice cracks and offers to fly to Norway.

“Mom, the airports are shut down by now,” you sigh. “We already talked about this. We can’t see each other for a while, but we’ll FaceTime until we can’t anymore.” Until the cell towers are knocked out, you don’t say.

“I just know my baby girl is hurting right now. I know how much you loved—”

“I know,” you cut her off, scared that hearing it from her mouth will just make you lose it again. “I know, but I’m okay here with Mike and everyone else.”

“You’re sure?” She sniffles, sounding a lot like you. “Cause your father and I will find a way to get to you if you need us.”

“I’m sure, Mom,” you tell her with a sad smile she can’t see. “Get some rest, okay?”

You share many calls like that, many ill-timed text messages until the eruption finally comes to an end six days later. The damage it’s done is incalculable—the entirety of the United states now covered in a cloud of ash that blocks out the sun. 

It doesn’t reach you for a few days, but every time you go outside, Mike sniffs the air and mumbles something like, “Smells like sulfur,” or “It’s getting closer”, but after another week, the entire globe is covered. 

1  M O N T H  A F T E R

Everything is an estimation. Everyone knows that a massive amount of magma erupted, but they don’t know how much. Everyone knows that a large number of people have died, but they don’t know how many. There are too many mysteries, and it’s nowhere near safe enough to send search crews out. 

Despite all the warnings, people are still trying to go outside—to see the ash, to review the damage, but even with cloth or medical grade masks, they’re breathing in the dangerous particles floating in the air, tiny minerals that turn to a cement-like substance in their lungs, and because of that, the death count is only rising. 

News reports cut in and out, as do phone calls. Some texts never get sent or received, so all you truly have is your little home and Mike. 

And, you cry, and you mourn, and you miss your friends and family—fuck, you don’t even know how you’ll survive so long without them—but you also revel in the fact that you’re safe. Not everyone can say that. The fact that you had almost willingly stayed in the most dangerous zone of the explosion is laughable now. There’s no way you and Erwin would have survived that, something he agrees with you on when you share a short phone call with him just to check how he and Levi are doing. 

They’ll be staying at the Homeland Security compound for the forseeable future, but he assures you they’re well-prepared to brave the years-long gray storm. 

Without any livestock to take care of, or mouths to feed other than yours and Mike’s, you find yourself with an abundance of free time. You still have power thanks to the solar panels and the couple of windmills set up around the ranch, but you don’t know how long that will last. 

You both read a lot, do puzzles together, fall into bed both out of desire and just because there’s not much better to do.

And, that part of your apocalyptic life is kind of great. Mike is great. He takes care of you both in and out of the bedroom, is gentle with you until you tell him not to be, and then he’s more than happy to succumb to your needs. He’d invested in a frankly absurd amount of condoms before the eruption so he wouldn’t have to worry about pulling out every time, but every once in a while you want him like you had him the first time—desperate and passionate and completely raw. 

That’s the feeling you’re experiencing tonight, staring at Mike from your place on the couch rather than at the book in your hands.

You see him smile before he actually looks at you, but when he does, he has a glint in his eyes you’ve gotten very familiar with over the last month. 

“Need something, baby?”

You bite your lip to keep from grinning too bashfully and glance back down at the open pages on your lap. “Nuh uh.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm,” you nod. 

“Really?” Mike puts down the wildlife magazine he’s perusing and leans closer to you. “’Cause it looks like you might want something.”

You cross your legs, flip a page you haven’t even read, and shake your head. 

It’s a dumb game you’ve both started to play, who can hold out the longest. Of course, the longest record is one you both hold—four years and some odd months—but other than that, you usually make it two or three days at most.

But it’s hard with him walking around looking like he does, and for someone so quiet, Mike is mischievous and handsy, knowing just how to rile you up only to walk away and leave you to whatever you were doing before. He whispers in your ear, he grabs your ass, sometimes he’ll just stand right behind you in the kitchen and inhale, trace his nose up your neck so that you shiver and break out in goosebumps, then mumble a shameless, “You smell nice.”

He’s troublingly good at driving you crazy, and you realize this is why it took you so long to actually get together. You can’t imagine being this wound up and wanton in the lab with everyone there to see. 

“You know,” Mike speaks again. You look at him from the corner of your eyes as he leans back against the cushions and nonchalantly kicks an ankle over his thigh. “A lot of people are dying. Like, thousands. Millions.”

Frowning, you nod. “Uh, yeah. Worldwide disaster taking place.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame,” he adds. His lips twitch upward for a second before he purses them, waiting for another couple seconds then stating, “Should probably start thinking about… Efforts to repopulate.”

Eyes widening, you tilt your head to the side in disbelief, a short, incredulous laugh bubbling from your throat.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, Mike Zacharias!” 

Reaching behind you, you grab a throw pillow and launch it at him. Mike shields himself easily, choking and chuckling as he tries to defend himself, “I’m just—saying! It’s something to keep in mind!”

“Trying to guilt me into sex—” You smack his forearms with the pillow again, “As if I’m not already easy for you—" smack, smack, “—by bringing up all the people dying out there. What is the matter with you?”

He gets a hold of the pillow and rips it from your hands then hugs it to his chest and stares at you with that uncharacteristically devious look. “Is it working?”

You scoff at him, gently kick at his thigh in one last act of defiance before responding, “I mean, kinda.”

And, that’s all he needs to hear before he’s throwing himself at you, pinning you to the couch even as you giggle and squirm, ridding you of the comfortable clothes you have on so that he can kiss and lick every part of you he can reach. He acts like he’s hungry for you, and you have to use all your strength to shove him off of you just so that you can work his pants off and return the favor. 

Mike is all grunts and curses as you work him over with your tongue, a hand on the back of your head heavy but not pressuring. He trembles as you take him deeper, his tip hitting the back of your throat and sliding just a little further. 

It always hurts your jaw, leaves it sore for a full twenty-four hours at least, but the way his jaw drops and his hands ball into fists make it worth it. 

You use one hand to stroke what your mouth can’t reach, the other settling between your own thighs to get you to where you need to be, and only when Mike is panting and you’re dripping slick into your curled palm do you pull off of him.

He helps you into his lap, lets you take your time sliding down his length, because even after as much practice as you’ve had, it hasn’t exactly gotten easier. He’s still massive, and you still have to will yourself to relax around him, but once your muscles have loosened enough, you begin to rock your hips. 

Mike lets you use him like that for a few minutes, knows he’s at the perfect angle to rub over your g-spot, so he just watches and leans forward to place teasing kisses around your open mouth. 

“Feel good, baby?” His voice drips like honey as he grips onto you to aid in your movement. 

Nodding, you dig your nails into his shoulders, then shift to start moving up and down his length. Mike takes it as his cue to take over completely, strong enough to lift and drop you as he pleases, and you both fall into a frenzy of motion, desperate to get off, to get each other off, to share that euphoria. 

“Do you actually want to?” You ask in a daze.

Mike cracks his eyes open to ask, “What?” and slows down enough to give you enough breathing room to speak. “Do I wanna what?”

Making lazy air quotes with your fingers, you mimic his deep voice, “Repopulate,” then elaborate, “Have kids. Do you want that?” 

Everything stops. Your hips still, as do Mike’s, and he stares at you, the lusty haze of his gaze clearing as he processes what you’re asking. 

Feeling completely exposed, you try to rationalize, “I know, I know, we’ve only been doing this for, like, a month, and it’s kind of a terrible time to actually bring new life into the world, but if I’m gonna do it with anyone—”

Mike fists both hands in the hair at the back of your head, pulls you to him to smash your lips together. When he starts bouncing you again, your muffled moan is still loud in the small living room, and Mike’s voice comes out somewhere between desperate and destroyed when he tells you, “Yeah, I want kids. Want you to have my kids.”

“Okay,” you breathe, matching his rhythm, then again, “Okay.”

A switch seems to flip in Mike’s head. You watch and experience him devolve into someone—something—primal. He fucks you like he never has before, long hair hanging in his face, lip caught between his teeth as he groans around it, pistoning into you quick and rough.

“You want it?” He growls, pausing to suck a mark at the swell of your breast. “You want me to come in this pussy?”

Your heart stutters, jaw dropping slightly because Mike isn’t a vulgar man, never has been, but now, the way he’s looking up at you with wild eyes, you know all he needs is the right push, and he’ll lose it completely. 

“Yeah, fuck, want you to fill me up, please,” you whine.

Your world tilts as he tosses you long ways on the couch, sliding back into you with ease and demanding, “Touch yourself.”

You grin slyly, “What, don’t have the focus?”

“Not really,” he admits, flicking sweaty hair from his eyes. 

Two of your fingers find your clit, massaging it the way you always do when you’re desperate for an orgasm. It makes you clamp tighter around Mike, and you tell him again—beg for him— “Please, baby, want you so bad.”

He comes quicker than usual, shooting line after line deep inside of you until it starts dripping out around his cock. 

He can’t stay inside you for long, unable to take the way you keep clenching and twitching from your own ministrations, so Mike pulls out and shimmies down your body so that his face is just above your cunt. At first, he just stares (like always), admiring your swollen folds and how messy you are, but soon he pushes a finger into you, attaching his mouth to your clit shortly after.

It doesn’t take you long. The thought of him fingerfucking his cum further into you paired with the actual sensation of it sends you over the edge within a few minutes, and the two of you are left sweaty and panting, too drunk off each other to really think about the gravity of what you’ve just done but enjoying it all the same. 

The feeling eventually returns to your legs, some of the fog in your brain dissipating as you run your hand through Mike’s hair, and when you find that you can, you voice, “Can we even handle a kid? Or like… Can a kid handle the world as it is?”

“Kids are weirdly resilient,” Mike speaks, face pressed against your stomach so that you can feel the vibrations. “And, maybe there’ll eventually be a race of super babies or something—have enhanced lungs to deal with ash. Darkvision and shit.”

You snort and shake your head. “Dummy.”

He retaliates by blowing a raspberry just above your belly-button, grins lopsidedly when you squeal. 

“But really, our kids’ll be fine. Volcanologist for a mom and an Eagle Scout for a dad? Doesn’t get much better than that.”

“Oh my god, you were actually in Boy Scouts? Does Levi know?”

Mike makes a little ‘pft’ sound and shoots you an unimpressed look. “Of course not. Like, I’d ever let that tiny, tiny man be right about anything.”

Your laugh is so deep and genuine, it makes your whole body shake. Mike raises his head to keep it from bouncing so much, but you can feel him staring for the duration of your giggle fit. Even through squinted, teary eyes, you can see his gaze is full of adoration, and you figure having two parents who love each other as much as the two of you do will at least make the hard life ahead of you a little easier for a child. 

4  Y E A R S  A F T E R

Heavy snow falls outside, adding to the thick layers on the ground and clouding the window you’re staring out of. The carrier is nicely heated, ensuring you and its other two occupants stay toasty as you keep eye out for incoming headlights. 

“Think that’s them,” Mike says, and you swivel to look out his driver’s side window to see two dull beams of light growing brighter and brighter. 

“Don’t know who else it would be,” you joke. “No one else is dumb enough to come back to this place.”

The only sign of your husband raising his eyebrows is the way his hat shifts slightly. “You’re right about that.”

Cinching fur-lined hoods tighter, you both slide out of the tram, boots crunching on ice and snow when you land on the ground. Mike circles to your side, opens the back door, then unbuckles and collects what looks to be a bundle of jackets in his arms. Two light eyes peer out between a beanie and a face mask, gloved hands reaching out and grabbing for you. 

“You want Mama?” Mike coos before passing your son to you.

You settle him on your hip, rub his shielded nose with yours, hoping your body heat will help keep him warm out here.

It’s been winter for… Years, now, the ash from the eruption having behaved exactly as you thought it would, blocking out the sun, and sending the planet hurtling into another ice age. It was something not everyone was prepared for—the intense cold, the food and water shortage, the isolation, but you were lucky. You had everything you needed.

The other snow vehicle stops a ways off, lights left on as two figures jump out, recognizable even when completely covered up. One is nearly as tall as Mike, the other considerably smaller even up close. 

Pulling his mask down, Erwin shows a brilliant smile as he stops in front of you and Mike, and Levi immediately protests— “Oi, cover your mouth, old man! You need it for more than just talking shit.”

Mike laughs, but still reprimands the other man with a pointed, “Levi,” and a nod toward the little boy you’re holding. 

“Fuck—I mean…” Levi takes in a deep breath then apologizes over the whistling wind and falling snow, “Sorry, Huck.”

Bouncing him on your hip, you peer at your son and prompt, “Huckleberry, you remember Levi and Erwin from the computer?” 

Though your team has seen him many times on Zoom and FaceTime, this is first time Huck is meeting any of them in the flesh.

Your son looks between them for a while, quiet as he sizes up both of the men, then he reaches out for Levi the same way he had for you just moments before. Levi makes a dissatisfied noise but still takes him from you, and once Huck is passed off, you shuffle to Erwin and wrap your arms around him, breathing into his chest and warming your face. 

Your boss squeezes you tightly, mutters a low, “I know, I missed you too.”

It isn’t enough to drown out Levi’s sing-song baby voice, and both you and Erwin glance over to find him with his forehead pressed to Huck’s as he teases, “Can’t believe your parents named you after a volcanic eruption. That was pretty dumb, right?”

Mike glides over, places one hand on Huck’s head and the other on Levi’s, then sighs. “Please don’t criticize my wife’s terrible taste in nam—”

“Hey! You agreed to it,” you shout, taking the little boy back from Levi and glaring at both the smiling men. “Better shut up before you give him a complex. He can understand things, you know. He’s three.”

“Huckleberry Pine Zacharias,” Levi scoffs. “I cannot stand you guys.”

“I think it’s a great name,” Erwin interjects, lightly tapping Huck’s nose under his mask. 

“Well, you have shit taste, too.”

“Obviously, if I married a little gremlin like you,” Erwin drawls easily, leaning into the punch that Levi throws into his arm.

“Anyway, we’re here for a reason, right? Other than freezing our asses off?”

“Yeah,” Mike nods, kicking at the snow on the ground like it’ll make a difference. 

All of you know that buried beneath all the white is dried pyroclast, but under that… 

Is what remains of Yellowstone.

“How do we even go about rebuilding?” Mike is the first to ask.

Erwin stares at his own feet, face scrunched up in thought for a while before looking back up and stating, “From the bottom. Everything starts with a good foundation.”

Levi just scoffs, but you and Mike lock eyes and share a hidden grin. 

You take Huck back from Levi, leaning in for a side hug as you do, then suggest to everyone, “Well, then, now that we’ve seen a little of what we’re working with, we should head back to the shelter and start making a plan.”

“Yeah,” Levi agrees. “Gotta start getting ready for the next eruption due in seven hundred thousand years, right?”

“Right.”

After splitting back up into the two separate carriers, Mike follows closely behind the other in order to make it to their newly built bunker without getting lost. It’s perpetually dark from the never ending snow and cloud coverage, hazardous even with the vehicle’s tracks, but you can’t find it in yourself to be scared. Not now, not when life finally feels to be returning to something close to normal. 

[misa-angel]

The most transgender lyrics in every Save Rock and Roll song, according to me:

The Phoenix: Hey young blood, doesn't it feel like our time is running out? / I'm gonna change you like a remix / Then I'll raise you like a phoenix

My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark: In the end everything collides / My childhood spat back the monster that you see

Alone Together: I don't know where I'm going, but I don't think I'm coming home / And I said, I'll check in tomorrow if I don't wake up dead

Where Did The Party Go: All the kids who screamed (we weren't the same) / In sweaty rooms / Now we're doomed to organizing walk-in closets like tombs

Just One Yesterday: I don't have the right name / O-o-o-or the right looks / But I have twice the heart

The Mighty Fall: It's getting clear / You're never coming clean / So I'll lock you up inside / And swallow, swallow the key

Miss Missing You: Don't panic, no, not yet / I know I'm the one you want to forget / Cue all the love to leave my heart / It's time for me to fall apart

Death Valley: You can wear the crown, but you're no princess / So put the "D" in "dirt" now, baby, baby

Young Volcanoes: In poison places / We are anti-venom / We're the beginning of the end

Rat a Tat: We're all fighting growing old / In the hopes / Of a few minutes more / To get on St. Peter's list

Save Rock and Roll: Blood brothers in desperation / An oath of silence / For the voice of our generation

Again that is just my personal opinion, i forgot how sad those lyrics are lmao. Feel free to discuss!

[gumnut-logic]

Between Brothers (Bit 6)

Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Bit 4 | Bit 5 | Bit 6

I write this is so many scattered minutes. Many thanks to @janetm74​ for the sanity check through the middle of this.

-o-o-o-

Scott stared at his little brother. The words finally fell out of his mouth. “You want to quit?”

The logistics spun in his head. With a brother missing, how could he be covered. He had been covered before, at least short term, but none of the others had the underwater experience. Scott had done it then, yes, but Gordon had made it blatantly, and very loudly, obvious that Scott belonged in the sky, not the ocean.

And what would Gordon do? What would Virgil say? John?

Was this his fault? What if he had handled this differently?

Unfamiliar panic churned up his insides and left his mind stumbling.

At least Gordon would be safe.

The thought spun in out of left field and engraved itself on his brain. With it came relief.

Scott sagged where he sat, his belly hurting inside and out. Gordon would be safe.

But how would they operate without him?

“Scott? You okay?” Amber eyes were now frowning at him with concern.

“No…no, I’m not.” Again the words came unbidden as his mind spun…

Gordon’s response was immediate. He crouched down in front of the hoverchair, reaching for him.

Scott’s hands were shaking and he was breathing hard. His head was spinning because he couldn’t get enough air.

“Scott, look at me.” Those eyes, the gleaming brown eyes of his little brother, tried to catch his. When he didn’t respond enough, Gordon gently nudged his chin, forcing him to look at those eyes, usually sunshine and merriment, wise beyond their years having experienced so much. Had Scott failed to protect his little brother? “No, Scott, look at me! Hey, it was supposed to shock you into listening, not cause a breakdown. C’mon, Virgil is going to kill me.”

“Hah!” It was a laugh and it punched out of him. Virgil was going to kill both of them.

Gordon’s lips curled just a touch. “Hey, you don’t have to ride shotgun for hours when he’s pissed. He simmers like a volcano and farts pyroclastic flows all over the cockpit.”

The image that accompanied Gordon’s defence was enough to tip him into a hysterical giggle.

Fingers brushed his cheek and he looked up to find Gordon smiling just a little. “There you go.” It was whispered, quiet and heartfelt.

The giggle tipped sideways and almost strangled into a sob. No, no, no…

“Hey, hey, c’mon, Scott. Look at what they’ve done to you.” Gordon sighed and let his hand drop. “You don’t deserve this. This isn’t your fault.”

“I’m in command.” It was parched.

“Oh, bullshit.” And the anger was still there. “This is their responsibility. Not mine, not International Rescue’s and most certainly not yours.” His little brother drew in a breath. “They need a wake up call, and goddamnit, I’m going to give them one.”

“You’re leaving.”

Gordon’s lips thinned and he sat back on his heels. For a moment there was only the sound of the sea lapping at rock and the ever-present birds.

“I only do what I feel necessary to protect our family.” A breath. “And that includes you.”

-o-o-o-

TBC

[verse50]

Heat

It was the first weekend over 80F and we took full advantage of it on our six acres. Friday night we let the kids loose on the rock pile, loading up the trailer for the dump, then packed them off early Saturday for soccer camp. All morning he bush-hogged the treeline while I wrestled the sunken raised beds into shape. This house had been so neglected when we bought it two years ago. Finally we had the time and money to make it nice again.

I was pulling weeds when he tromped out in chaps and ear protection. Chainsaw hanging from his belt. That and the sweaty dirt on his face made me look a bit longer.

“I’m gonna saw up that alder and then get to the stairs,” he half shouted. Bush hogging will do that to you. He grinned and took out his ear plugs. “The beds are coming along, maybe-” I was on my knees and gazed up at him quizzically.

“You’re not wearing a bra,” he said, at the perfect angle to peer down my shirt.

“Nope!” I agreed, and swung myself back and forth. It looked and felt like two water balloons bumping in a pillowcase. Then stuck out my tongue.

His mouth set. “I gotta get the stairs done today.” Then he was gone into the brush, chainsaw revving. I bent down again to the weeds, trying to drown my frustration with deep breaths. 

He was so hard to read. I was a free spirit, a spitfire, and he was a calm, methodical engineer with a heart of gold. There was no better man on the planet, I was convinced, but gosh sex was tough with him! It took him so long to adjust to change. A toe ring. The tiniest gold nose ring. A tattoo on my ankle. Introducing him to my vibrator. I had to pace everything at six month intervals or it was too much.

 But once he got used to it...holy fucking shit. He basically dissected that vibrator and and studied the user manual. Found similar ones, tested them on me like I was a guinea pig. Even took me to a toy store in Dallas then fucked the daylights out of me until 3am. And then...it all petered out like a spent firework. I would try to keep the energy going, keep him interested, but I could never tell what worked. He was pretty shy about sex, almost embarrassed. He wasn’t comfortable with dirty talk. We couldn’t really sext because his job required cellphones be lockered except at lunch. We could go months on once a week then he would surprise me with a two day fuckfest, like a volcano erupting. I lived for those times but could never figure out how to make them happen more often. All it did was make me ramp up with excitement, feel more free, then try to cram myself in a box again. He was such a good man, though. I just needed to be more patient, less wild. I ripped up the weeds angrily.

The sun was high when he came in for lunch. I had sandwiches, chips, and his favorite tea ready. There was even more dirt on his face and I sat there awkwardly, trying to equate my silent chip-crunching husband with the dirty woodsman I wanted to pounce on.

“I think I’ll build out the landing a bit from the stairs, maybe put in a new handrail,” he said. I sipped my tea and nodded. “The driveway could use some gravel.”

“The trailer has all the rocks in it still,” I pointed out.

“Mmm. I’ll go to the dump first, then hit Home Depot and Brother’s Fieldstone.” He looked at me as if I had just appeared at the table. “You’re wearing a bra now.”

“Uh-huh.” I cut off a smart-ass retort and became very busy fishing pickles from their jar. “I’m gonna work on the petunia baskets.”

After the peck on my cheek he would be gone for at least two hours. I ripped off my bra, blasted Slayer on my bluetooth speaker, and delved into the hanging baskets. By the time I had repotted everything and cleaned up the cobwebby  lounge chairs I was a filthy mess. Shower time.

You couldn’t see our house from the road. I went out on the deck in just a towel, then threw it off and lay naked on a chair, basking like a lizard. Big fluffy clouds blocked the sun momentarily, then shooed away when I spread my legs wide. Everything needed to dry. My hair would need a serious flatiron session. Idly I thought of him coming out of the forest...rushing home...making a beeline for me...a naked woman tanning herself alone...so easy to take advantage...helpless...but there was a shotgun behind the door...

Damn it, I thought. Can’t even have a fantasy and it gets all practical. He’s wearing off on me. I looked at my phone. About 30 minutes of naked freedom left- I should water the baskets again. I picked up the hose and my phone rang.

“Hey baby,” I said, working up the cheerful wife tone. He really was wonderful. I just needed to...not need so much.

“Baby, guess how much the lumber cost for the deck, right now?”

I thought for a minute. It has been awhile since we did a major project. “Um, I think we did the brown house for under $600?”

“Yeah, well, I priced it all out. It’s gonna be over $2000! We can’t swing that now. It’s insane, the prices. Never seen anything like it. And Brother’s is out of pea gravel!” He was worked up. This man stuck to budgets religiously.

“O my God! No, you’re right. We can’t do that now. The deck will be fine for awhile, definitely. It’s sturdy at least.” The sun was so hot on my back. I stared at my shadow, waving the limp hose to and fro.

“So I emptied the trailer and uh, checked everything out. Since we can’t do anything more on that today I, um....” he coughed. I waited, cautiously easing on the water. “I went to that new little toy store in the strip mall.”

Water spurted out onto my shadow. “I see. What kind of toys?”

“The only kind!” His voice rose. The hose engorged and gurgled. “I found one like your pink one, you know that does the swirly thing, too? But this seems to be a softer material, a better grade of silicone, I think this company merged with a big distributor and, uh...”

My mouth twisted. It was just like him to get carried away on technical aspects. “That’s so sweet, baby. What are you wanting to do with that?”

“I want to use it on you.” He was almost whispering, as if there were seven other people in his F-250. “Like Dallas.” It was such a distant memory. I couldn’t work myself all up again, it was too exhausting. But he went to the store, my dear husband...he wants something.

“You can do whatever you want to me, baby,” I said sincerely. “Just come home and we can hang out the rest of the day.”

“I don’t want to hang out. I want- I want you to not wear a bra again. I don’t want you to feel, uh, like you have to put it back on? Around me?”

I aimed the water where my shadow’s pussy would be. Cool drops sprayed up onto my flushed skin.

“I’m not wearing a bra right now.”

“What?”

“I’m naked out on the deck. Been tanning after I took a shower.”

Silence. He was gunning the truck, I could hear the roar.

“I hope you’re bringing some wood home for me.” VVVBBBBRBbbbbRRRRrr.

“Baby, if you can just let me plan stuff. It’s easier for me. I’m sorry I’m slow and I disappoint you. I wanted to tear your shirt off there but I’m just never sure...I don’t want to do anything you don’t like, I don’t want to hurt you- really- just let me plan sometimes and maybe try to go along? I promise I’ll do better, you are so sexy-” sfhkhfffffppp. His phone cut out. I stood there, dumb, watching the water drip my shadow off the edge of the deck. He had never talked to me so much at one time. “-if I can plan and know in advance that you like it we can do more, you drive me crazy you know that, right?”

I took a deep breath. My legs were shaking into the damp, hot wood. “How do you want me to be, when you get home?”

Pause. More gunning. “On the deck chair, doggy. Ass in the air. Wait- I need to shower first.”

“No, you don’t. You’re sexy with the dirt on you. I love it.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I love my sexy, dirty husband.”

“Ok.” He was firm. The blinker was on, he was at the intersection ten minutes away. “Ass up, doggy. Hands by your side. Face turned away from the stairs. I don’t want you to see me. I have-have- a special delivery.”

I turned off the water. The whole deck was soaked. Not one basket had gotten a drop. “Ass up ready to receive. I’ll be waiting for you, baby.” I was so excited my words came out slowly, bouncing through a lump in my throat. The sun was cold and hot at the same time.

“If you respond well there will be future appointments.” His voice was full of confidence before the phone shut off.

I almost tripped on my way over to the lounge chair. Fortunately my towel was there in case things got really wet.

Thank you to @daily-esprit-descalier for sharing the photo that inspired this story.

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