#and try to watch the last ep...later

[peppermint-jade]

Happy Doctor Who premiere day!!! This poster was so pretty I had to paint it!

[coridallasmultipass]

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[lalo0]

INSIDE AESPA EP. 3┃ Still Think I’m Soft?

Male reader x Ningning Word count: 6.8k Tags: facefucking, anal, squirting, rough sex, dirty talk, teasing PART 1 PART 2

She didn’t slam the door.

That would’ve been easier.

Karina just stood there. Her hand still on the knob. Eyes on me.

Not on Giselle. Not the bed. Not the scattered clothes or the marks still cooling on her skin.

Me.

I’d never been looked at like that. Not with disgust. Not even with shock.

Just... like she was measuring my worth.

Like she was pulling up a chair in her mind and watching me bleed without touching the knife.

Giselle pulled the sheet tighter around herself. Her lips moved, but no sound came. Her face was flushed, lashes damp, mouth still kiss-bitten. She looked like what she was — someone who’d just been fucked hard and loved every second of it.

And now she was trying to hide it.

Karina’s gaze didn’t move.

I sat there. Half-covered. My breath still uneven. Muscles tensed in places I hadn’t known were still working. My shirt was somewhere on the floor. My jeans, still open. The air was warm, but I felt cold.

“Karina,” Giselle finally said, voice soft. Unsteady. “This isn’t— I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

No answer.

From behind her, I heard another voice. Softer. Curious.

“Is everything okay?”

Another followed. Lighter, with a spark.

Karina stepped forward slightly. Just enough for the other two girls to peer inside.

I didn’t know their names.

But I knew when people were sizing me up.

One of them let out a low whistle. “Huh.”

The other didn’t say anything.

Karina’s voice was level.

She didn’t yell.

Didn’t ask what happened.

Didn’t call security.

Just looked at me like I already didn’t belong here.

And said: "You need to leave."

I looked at Giselle.

She was already standing. Bare feet on the floor. Sheet wrapped around her like a robe, but it couldn’t hide the tension in her shoulders. Or the bruises shaped like fingerprints on her thighs.

“No,” she said. “He’s staying.”

Karina didn’t blink.

“Giselle.”

“I invited him.”

Silence.

The girl who whistled leaned against the doorframe like this was all a performance. The other just watched, unreadable.

Karina’s voice dropped half a degree. "We're not just talking about you room, Giselle. We're talking about this house. About all of us. And you brought a stranger into it like it didn't mean anything."

Giselle’s jaw clenched. “I’m not ashamed of this.”

“Doesn’t mean it was smart.”

Karina didn’t raise her voice. Didn’t scold.

She didn’t have to.

It was in the way she looked at Giselle — like she expected better.

And in the way she looked at me — like I had no business being there.

This wasn’t about sex.

It was about respect.

About the lines you don’t cross when you’re part of something bigger than yourself.

No one moved at first.

Not Karina. Not the two girls flanking her. Not even Giselle, who stood like she was bracing for a slap that hadn’t landed yet.

It didn’t matter that I wasn’t ashamed.

The silence made me feel like I should be.

Karina turned without another word, the door swinging wider as she walked out. The girl who’d whistled followed a beat later, still silent but smirking, like she was filing the whole thing away for later.

The last one lingered.

She looked at me — not like Karina had, not like I was a stain on the rug — but like she was curious. Her head tilted slightly, just enough to let a piece of her hair fall into her eye. She didn’t move it. She didn’t say a word.

And then she left too.

The door stayed open.

I sat there, bare-chested on the bed, trying to remember how to breathe.

Giselle was already moving — collecting my shirt from the floor, tossing it onto the bed like it was a lifeline.

“I’m sorry,” she said, without looking at me.

Her voice was sharp. Not angry. Just embarrassed — not at me, but because of the situation.

“You don’t have to be,” I said.

She pulled a hoodie from the back of a chair and tugged it on. Her hair was a mess. Her cheeks still blotchy with sex and tension. Faint bruises were already blooming on her thighs — places I’d gripped too hard, places she hadn’t told me to stop.

She looked like someone who wanted to be anywhere else but here.

I slipped my shirt over my head and stood, grabbing my jeans off the edge of the bed.

“Maybe I should go.”

Her eyes snapped up.

“No.” 

Then softer, almost like she regretted how fast that came out. 

“I mean… unless you want to.”

I didn’t answer right away. My fingers fumbled with the button on my jeans.

There was a sound down the hall — a door closing. Then another. The house had that strange, eerie quiet big places always had when something loud had just happened.

Giselle exhaled through her nose, pacing. “She wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow.”

“I figured.”

She gave a hollow little laugh. “Of course she’s early. Karina’s always early.”

I sat back on the edge of the bed, half-dressed, waiting for the panic or guilt or even anger to kick in. Nothing did.

“You in trouble?”

“With her?” Giselle asked. “No. Not really.”

She paused.

“But if she decides to make it a problem... I’ll know.”

“You regret it?”

She didn’t answer right away.

She was sitting beside me — not touching, but close enough that it felt like she wanted to.

The hoodie she threw on hung off one shoulder, and her hands were curled around the edge of the mattress like she needed to grip something solid.

Then: “No. Not even a little.”

She said it too fast. Like she wanted it out of her mouth before she could change her mind.

I nodded slowly. “Good.”

She glanced at me. “You?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

I met her eyes. “You want me to lie?”

She smiled. Not her flashy stage smile — the real one. Small, unguarded, like I’d caught her off balance and she didn’t hate the feeling.

“That’s the part I wasn’t ready for,” she said softly. “You… not treating me like I’m made of glass.”

“You’re not.”

“Some people act like I am. Like if they say the wrong thing, I’ll cry or call my manager.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

“Only if I need to.”

That got a laugh out of me.

She bumped her shoulder against mine.

I let it linger.

We sat there for a while, quiet. The kind of quiet that feels like it’s holding its breath. Like the room itself knew something had shifted and didn’t want to jinx it.

Her hand slid across the blanket and brushed mine.

I took it.

Her fingers curled around mine like they’d been waiting for permission.

“I don’t do this,” she said.

“Invite guys into your room?”

“Let them stay.”

I looked at her profile — the way lips compressed when she was unsure, how her gaze kept dancing around the room like it was safer to look anywhere but at me.

“Do you want me to go?”

She hesitated.

“No,” she said. Then, quieter: “But maybe you should.”

“Because of Karina?”

“Because of all of it.”

She looked at me then — really looked — and I saw it: not fear. Not shame. Just the recognition that something real had happened. And real things had a way of changing everything around them.

“This wasn’t how you planned it, was it?”

She looked down. Her fingers picked at the edge of the sheet.

“No. Not really.”

“You mean, it was supposed to be casual.”

“Controlled,” she added.

“You mean you were supposed to be in control.”

She didn’t argue.

I didn’t leave right away.

I thought I would. Get dressed, find the door, disappear before anyone changes their mind.

But I didn’t.

We sat there a few more minutes — her with her legs drawn up and her hoodie sleeves tugged over her hands, me with my elbows on my knees, trying not to think too hard about what came next.

Eventually she stood and stretched, the fabric of her hoodie riding up just enough to tease. She caught me looking and didn’t hide her smirk.

“I should get dressed for real,” she said.

I nodded and stood, brushing off my jeans.

“I’ll give you a minute.”

She didn’t say anything, just watched me head toward the door like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to stop me.

Out in the hallway, it was darker. Quiet.

I didn’t get two steps before someone was there.

Shorter than me. Wide eyes. Long dark hair pulled into a messy ponytail and a silk robe she hadn’t bothered to tie properly.

She was leaning against the wall across from Giselle’s door, arms folded, like she’d been waiting.

We locked eyes.

She didn’t look surprised to see me.

“Hey,” she said, like we were old friends who’d just run into each other in line at the grocery store.

“Hey,” I replied, slower.

She tilted her head slightly. “You’re not very good at sneaking out.”

“I wasn’t trying to.”

That got a little grin. “Bold.”

I nodded toward the far end of the hall. “You standing guard?”

“I’m standing.”

“Right.”

We both looked at each other for a second too long.

Then she pushed off the wall and took a few steps closer. Her bare feet made no sound on the hardwood.

“Just so you know,” she said, voice lower now, “I don’t think you should feel bad.”

“About what?”

“Whatever happened in there.” She glanced toward Giselle’s door. “She’s not stupid. And she doesn’t usually let people in like that.”

“So I’ve gathered.”

Ningning gave a little shrug. “Well. You got past the front gate. That’s something.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. So I said nothing.

She stopped in front of me. Not close enough to crowd me. Just close enough to see her eyes weren’t as playful as her tone had been.

“You have a name?” she asked.

“Mylo.”

Her lips curved just slightly. “I’m Ningning.”

I nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

She leaned in — not to whisper, just to keep the moment between us.

“You’re already causing trouble,” she said. “Might as well enjoy yourself while you’re here.”

Then she walked past me, back toward her room, not looking back.

The hallway felt colder after she walked away.

I stood there for a few seconds, staring at the space she left behind. Then I turned, walked back to Giselle’s door, and knocked lightly before pushing it open.

She was sitting on the bed with her legs folded under her, now in a fresh pair of loose shorts and a tank top. Hair combed, skin scrubbed, no makeup — just her. The kind of raw, pretty that didn’t need effort.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

She nodded, but something in her expression told me she’d been thinking too much.

“I ran into Ningning.”

Her mouth twitched. “Let me guess. She flirted with you.”

“Little bit.”

“She’s shameless.”

I sat on the edge of the bed. “Clearly.”

There was a quiet pause.

Then Giselle looked up, hesitant. “You’ll text me?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

She walked me to the door, barefoot. No words this time. Just stood in front of me, fingers playing with the edge of her shirt.

“I liked tonight,” she said.

“Me too.”

Her eyes flicked to my mouth. “Don’t ruin it.”

I smiled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She leaned in and kissed me. Quick. Soft. Final.

Then she nodded toward the hallway. “Guest room’s second door on the left.”

I smiled. “So I’m not kicked out after all.”

“Not yet.”

She opened the door.

The sheets were too clean.

That was the first thing I noticed when I lay down. Everything smelled like detergent and linen spray and something vaguely floral — nothing human. No warmth. No breath. Just a pristine bed in a house too big for comfort.

I lay there with one arm behind my head, eyes on the ceiling, not really thinking. Or maybe thinking too much. Giselle’s kiss still sat at the edge of my mouth. The way she looked at me — not like an idol, not like someone who knew how to pose for cameras — it stuck.

I heard footsteps.

Soft, then softer. Slowed just before my door.

I didn’t move. I waited.

Nothing.

Then another step — this time toward the guest bathroom. A creak. Running water. Silence.

The door across the hall clicked.

I closed my eyes.

I should’ve stayed in bed. Should’ve slept. Should’ve done anything but what I did.

But I got up.

I cracked the door open just as her light went on — a soft gold spill from the room across the hall. Her door wasn’t shut. Not fully.

And I swear I saw her silhouette pause at the mirror. Then her eyes flicked toward me.

And then?

She walked out of sight.

Leaving the door half open.

I didn’t knock.

I told myself I would. Told myself I’d stay on my side of the hallway, be the respectful guy, the guest with boundaries. But the door was cracked just enough — just wide enough to whisper you can instead of you shouldn’t.

And I stepped inside.

The room was warmer than mine. Not just physically. It had that lived-in feel — cluttered vanity, a hoodie draped over the desk chair, perfume bottles scattered like forgotten glass chess pieces. Her phone was face down, glowing faintly. The music was low, some soft synth line playing under a steady pulse. And Ningning?

She was brushing her hair.

Slow, methodical strokes. Like it wasn’t about untangling anything. Like it was a ritual.

She caught my reflection before I said anything.

“I was wondering how long you’d wait.”

“I wasn’t—”

She looked at me through the mirror. “Yes, you were.”

I didn’t argue.

She kept brushing. “You sleep okay in the showroom guest suite?”

“Haven’t tried it yet.”

Ningning set the brush down and turned on the stool, crossing one leg over the other. Her robe had slid halfway down one shoulder. Not by accident.

“You don’t strike me as the polite house guest type.”

I shrugged. “You left your door open.”

“Did I?”

She stood slowly and padded toward me barefoot, the hem of her silk robe swaying just above her knees. It wasn’t tied shut. Just overlapping at the front, loosely. One wrong movement and it’d fall open.

I didn’t look away.

She stopped in front of me. Close. Not touching. Just hovering at that delicious, unbearable distance.

“You’re quiet,” she said.

“You’re not.”

That got a smile. “Fair.”

I waited. I didn’t know what for.

She moved first. Her fingers brushed the hem of my shirt, light and deliberate.

“You already broke one rule tonight,” she murmured. “Might as well break a few more.”

I caught her wrist gently. Not to stop her. Just to slow it down.

“This isn’t a game,” I said.

Her eyebrow arched, amused. “Sure it is.”

“I mean it.”

“I know you do.” Her hand twisted in my grip, fingertips sliding up my forearm. “That’s why it’s fun.”

Her other hand came up, palm flat on my chest. She didn’t push. Just let it rest there.

“You’re not mine,” she said, low. “I know that.”

“I didn’t say—”

“But you’re not hers, either.”

I hesitated.

“That’s what makes this okay,” she added, stepping even closer, pressing her body to mine. “We’re not breaking anything. We’re just… seeing what fits.”

Her lips brushed my jaw — a test, not a kiss. Her breath smelled faintly like green tea and strawberries.

“Still thinking?” she whispered.

I didn’t answer.

She pulled back, just a little, and looked up at me. “You can leave. Right now. No hard feelings.”

I didn’t move.

“Or,” she said, fingers sliding down the front of my shirt, “you can stop pretending you don’t want this.”

I kissed her.

It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t polite. It was the kind of kiss that says I’ve already made my decision. She tasted exactly like she smelled — bright and sweet with something darker underneath, something playful, biting.

Her arms slid around my neck. Mine found her waist. The robe shifted.

“I thought you were the quiet one,” she breathed between kisses.

“Only when I’m not being kissed like that.”

She laughed, and it turned into a moan as I sucked lightly on her lower lip.

Then she pulled back, just a step. Enough to look me over.

“Take off your shirt.”

I did.

She let her eyes roam, open and slow, not shy about it. She stepped forward again and ran her fingers across my chest, down my stomach. Nails dragging. Barely.

“Don’t get shy now,” she teased.

“I’m not the shy one.”

“Oh? You think I’m shy?”

I gave her a look.

Ningning stepped back and shrugged off her robe in one fluid motion. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

Not lingerie. Not a bra. Not even a pair of shorts.

Just skin and heat and that cocky little smirk she wore like armor.

“Well,” she said. “Now you know I’m not.”

I stared for a second too long. She knew I would. Her body was smaller than Giselle’s, but just as dangerous — smooth lines, delicate curves, a kind of quiet athleticism that said she could climb you like a rope and make you thank her for it.

She climbed onto the bed without a word.

Then looked back at me, on her knees, hair falling over one shoulder, mouth parted.

“Your turn.”

I stood at the edge, shirt off, hard as hell, pulse drumming behind my ears. She looked at me with her legs folded underneath her, hair slipping down one shoulder. Her nipples were already hard, rising and falling with her breath like she was trying not to pant.

“You're gonna stand there and admire me,” she said, licking her lower lip, “or are you gonna do something?”

I didn’t answer.

I crawled onto the bed.

She gasped when I grabbed her hips and pulled her forward in one clean motion, forcing her to lie back. Her head landed on a pillow, eyes wide but hungry. My mouth met hers hard — no teasing, no soft warm-up. Tongues colliding. Teeth scraping. Her moan vibrated against my lips as my hand slid between her thighs and pressed.

“F—fuck—yes,” she breathed, hips lifting into my palm.

Wet didn’t even begin to cover it. She was soaked. Dripping. Her legs opened wider without me asking, one hand gripping the sheets like she needed something to anchor her.

“You’ve been waiting for this,” I said into her mouth.

She nodded fast, whining a little. “Yes. Yes. God, yes.”

My fingers slid through her folds, and she choked out a moan, already squirming.

“You like it messy?”

She didn’t answer — just bucked her hips again.

I kissed her neck, dragging my teeth along her collarbone, and pressed one finger inside her pussy. Her mouth opened. Nothing came out. Then—

“Aghh—ahh! F-fuck, yes…”

I pumped once, twice, watching her unravel with just my hand. Her hips rolled like she couldn’t decide if she wanted more or was already overwhelmed.

“Another,” she gasped. “Give me another—fuck—yes—there—right there—”

I added a second finger and curled them just right. Her back arched. Her thighs trembled.

She reached for me blindly, nails scratching down my back, pulling me close enough that her breath hit my cheek.

“I want your cock so bad—please, please—just—God—”

I pulled my hand away.

“No—!”

She whined, actual frustration in her voice.

“I didn’t say stop…”

“You didn’t say please.”

“I did—!” she gasped. “Twice—fuck—please, please—”

I reached down and grabbed a pair of panties from the floor. Light blue, still warm, still damp. I balled them up and brought them to her mouth.

“Too loud,” I said.

Her eyes widened, then darkened.

And she opened her mouth.

I stuffed the panties in slowly. She moaned behind the gag, lips closing over the fabric as her hips rolled against the air, searching.

“Good girl,” I said, kissing her jaw. “You’re gonna stay quiet now.”

She nodded — barely — and I could see her trying to breathe through her nose, flushed from the buildup, thighs squeezing together.

I pulled back just enough to admire the view.

Ningning. Spread open. Gagged with her own panties. Dripping wet and twitching under me like she was wired to explode.

“You ready for it?”

She moaned against the gag. Nodded hard.

“Don’t cum until I tell you.”

Her eyes rolled.

And then I slid down the bed, hands pushing her legs apart, breath brushing her soaked cunt — tongue about to meet heat.

I didn’t ease into it.

The second my tongue met her, she convulsed — thighs twitching, toes curling, a desperate muffled moan vibrating behind the panties stuffed in her mouth. I flattened my tongue against her clit and dragged it slow, deliberate, from bottom to top. She clenched hard.

Her taste was perfect. Salty-sweet, slick, fever-hot. Her pussy was already swollen, soaked, begging. And I hadn’t even used my fingers again yet.

She whimpered behind the gag — soft, choked, and feral.

I reached up and pressed a hand flat against her stomach, holding her down as she tried to grind against my mouth. Her hips had no rhythm now — just jerks of raw need. Her body couldn’t decide if it was trying to run or pull me deeper.

She tried to say something behind the gag. Couldn’t. Just a desperate, high-pitched moan.

I circled her clit with the tip of my tongue, then flicked harder — faster. I didn’t stop. I didn’t let up. She was panting through her nose like she couldn’t take it.

Then she started crying — not sobbing, not pain. Just overstimulated tears that spilled sideways from the corners of her eyes.

Her whole body writhed.

She was right on the edge.

And I didn’t stop.

I locked my arms under her thighs and kept eating. Tongue lapping, lips sucking, eyes locked on the way her stomach kept twitching under me. Her muffled voice was wrecked now — whines and moans bleeding together, hands clawing the sheets, one leg jerking involuntarily every time I sucked hard.

She tried to shake her head. I looked up.

Her eyes were wide. She was trying to tell me something.

I reached up, pulled the gag gently from her mouth.

She gasped the second it came out, chest heaving.

“C-Can I cum?” she begged. “Please, please—Mylo, fuck—please let me—”

Her voice broke.

I growled against her pussy, then nodded once.

“Do it.”

She shattered.

Her scream ripped from her throat as her thighs locked around my head. Her back arched clear off the bed, hips bucking like she was being electrocuted. Her pussy clenched and throbbed, gushing against my tongue — so wet I could feel it drip down my chin. Her hands tangled in my hair like she couldn’t tell if she was trying to pull me off or keep me there forever.

“AHH—ahh—fuck, fuck, I’m cumming—!”

I didn’t stop.

I kept licking. Slower. Then faster again.

Her scream cut off into choked moans — then laughter, then moaning again, her voice completely undone.

“Ohmygod—oh fuck—stop, I—I can’t—”

I didn’t stop.

She started shaking.

Her hips lifted — then collapsed — then lifted again.

“No—no—fuck—too much, too much—!”

Her body betrayed her. Another orgasm slammed into her out of nowhere — a second wave she didn’t see coming.

She sobbed through it.

And I kept going.

I pulled back only when she physically tried to crawl away from me — legs twitching, voice wrecked, pussy throbbing and red and soaked.

I crawled up her body, licking my lips.

She was breathless.

Hair tangled. Face flushed. Drool at the corner of her mouth. Her nipples were stiff, her chest heaving, and her thighs still trembled.

“Y-You’re a fucking psycho,” she whispered, half-laughing.

I smiled.

“You’re not done.”

She turned her head slowly. Met my eyes.

Then smirked.

“No,” she said. “You’re not done.”

She pulled one leg up, bent at the knee. Her fingers slid behind her, teasing herself — then stopping just long enough to say:

“Do me here.”

I blinked.

She nodded, biting her bottom lip. “I want you in my ass.”

I didn’t move.

“I want to feel all of you,” she whispered. “Stretch me out. Use me. Don’t be gentle.”

Then she grabbed her panties from where they were still damp on the sheets.

Smiling, breathless, glowing.

“I’ll need these.”

She said it with a smirk, voice rough and breathless, holding out her damp panties like she was giving me a challenge. Her legs were still trembling, her chest flushed, lips parted with that smug, post-orgasm haze painted all over her.

I took them from her hand.

But instead of turning around for me — instead of staying soft, pliant, desperate — she rolled onto her side and gave me a look. A raised brow. That same spark from earlier, only sharper now. Hungrier. Dirtier.

“You’ve got no idea what to do with me, do you?”

I blinked once.

She tilted her head, dragging her nails across her thigh, slow and deliberate.

“That little tongue act? Cute. Real cute. And maybe that sweet-boy edge works on Giselle, but me?” She ran her fingers between her legs, deliberately collecting the slick I’d left there, then licked them clean while holding eye contact. “I need more than a guy who thinks making me cum twice is enough.”

I didn’t speak.

“Thought you were dangerous,” she added, voice soft and mocking. “Right now, I feel like I should pat your head and call you adorable.”

That did it.

I grabbed her by the hips and yanked her hard, dragging her onto her stomach. She yelped, legs kicking instinctively, but she didn’t resist — not really. Not when I shoved her thighs apart. Not when I spread her ass and let that second of silence stretch.

She was soaked, still twitching. Her cunt glistened. Her asshole clenched when the air hit it.

“You sure you want this?” I asked low, voice near her ear as I leaned over her.

She grinned into the sheets.

“Break me.”

I poured lube straight down the middle of her, cool and slick. She gasped, just once, and then pressed her hips back against my hand. Shameless. Eager.

“You gonna take it like a good girl?” I muttered, lining up behind her.

She looked back over her shoulder, eyes gleaming.

“I’m not a good girl.”

I shoved the panties between her lips.

“Then shut up and take it.”

She groaned — deep, needy — and her hips twitched the moment the head of my cock touched her. I pushed forward slowly at first, watching her face, her body, the little flinch of resistance.

And then I didn’t wait.

I pushed all the way in.

Her scream was muffled by her own panties, loud and broken. Her hands clawed at the sheets, body bucking underneath me as I buried myself inside her tight, tight ass.

“Ffff—fuck—mmmph—!”

I stayed deep for a second, feeling the way she clenched around me. Then I pulled back — almost all the way — and slammed into her again.

Her body jolted.

Again.

And again.

Harder. Rougher. Her ass rippled with every thrust, every slap of skin echoing through the room. She moaned into the gag, messy and half-strangled, drooling now, her face wrecked and twitching.

She tried to push back against me — match my pace — but I grabbed her wrists, pinned them to the bed above her head, and really started to fuck her.

Brutal.

No rhythm, no mercy. Just sound. Just flesh.

She couldn’t form words anymore.

Only screams.

Only sobs.

Her legs started to give out. Her face smashed into the pillow. Her body trembled violently with every thrust. But I didn’t stop.

I was going to ruin her like she’d fucking asked.

And she was loving every second of it.

Half-screaming into the panties stuffed in her mouth, drool running down her chin, her entire body trembling under me like every nerve had been lit up and exposed. Her wrists strained against my grip, but not to escape — just reacting, raw and helpless, twitching under the weight of every thrust.

Her ass was red now, every slap echoing. My cock slammed into her with no softness left, just wet heat, friction, and tight, relentless pressure. I was buried to the hilt every time. She took it. Every inch. Every time.

And she didn’t stop moaning.

Not once.

She was gasping around the gag like she needed air between sobs, but her hips still pushed back on instinct. Her cunt was soaked — dripping onto the sheets — and every time I bottomed out, her body clenched again like she was trying to milk me from both ends.

She was shaking violently.

Her legs twitched. Her toes curled. Her arms gave out and her face dropped to the pillow. Her back arched like she was being held in place by invisible strings.

Still, I didn’t stop.

I grunted as I leaned forward, yanked the panties from her mouth, and grabbed her chin, forcing her head up.

“You still think I’m soft?”

She tried to speak. Nothing came out but a broken sound — part laugh, part sob.

I slowed down just enough to let her catch one word.

“More.”

It wasn’t even a whisper. It was a prayer.

I growled and pulled out.

She collapsed face-first, moaning when I let go of her wrists. Her whole body quivered. Her ass stayed high, begging. Her pussy was glistening and wide open, twitching like it hadn’t been touched in hours, even though it had just been flooded with her own juices and my cock rubbing past it.

I pushed her flat onto her back. She groaned — too limp to help me move her, but not resisting. I kissed her once — slow, rough — and grabbed her thighs.

“You want more?”

She nodded weakly. Then smirked.

“Don’t slow down now.”

Her voice was wrecked, hoarse, scratchy with use — but that smile. That cocky little curl.

She wasn’t broken.

Not yet.

I caught the glint of something on the nightstand drawer- a small toy, black and sleek, the switch already worn from use.

I spread her legs, grabbed the vibrator on the drawer and turned it on. The hum was low. She flinched when I pressed it to her clit.

“No—no—fuck—” she gasped, laughing like she couldn’t believe it. “Mylo—Jesus—oh my God—”

She screamed.

There wasn’t a better word for it. Just a ragged, full-body cry as her pussy clenched around me again — hotter, wetter, tighter than before. Her legs locked around my waist and her nails clawed my back, but I didn’t stop moving.

“You’re insane—ahh! Fuck, I’m gonna cum—don’t—don’t—don’t stop—”

I didn’t.

She came again.

Hard.

Her body jerked. Her voice cracked. Her whole core clenched like she was trying to push me out and pull me deeper all at once.

I felt her break.

Her arms went limp. Her hands slapped against the mattress. Her eyes rolled back for half a second, and a drool thread slipped from her open mouth.

She moaned like she couldn’t help it.

Again. And again.

And then?

She laughed.

This breathless, dizzy little laugh.

“Still think I can’t take it?” she choked out.

I slowed.

Then pulled out.

She blinked — dazed.

“What—?”

I grabbed her by the jaw. Lifted her chin. My cock pressed against her lips.

“Open.”

She blinked again.

Then smiled — half-wrecked, all heat.

Her mouth opened slowly, still catching her breath, eyes half-lidded and lips glistening from moans and drool. I gripped my cock at the base, slid the tip across her bottom lip, and watched her tongue dart out like instinct.

She wasn’t broken.

She was starving.

I didn’t slide it in gently.

I pushed past her lips, past her tongue, to the back of her throat.

She choked once — a reflex — but didn’t pull away. She looked up at me with tears brimming, gagging around the thickness like it was nothing new.

I groaned. “That’s it.”

I grabbed a fistful of her hair, both hands now, and started thrusting — short, controlled strokes at first, then deeper. Sloppier.

Her moans vibrated around me, low and wet, her jaw flexing as her spit ran down my length. Her eyes didn’t close. She stared up at me while I used her mouth like it belonged to me.

Then I said it:

“Touch yourself.”

Her brows twitched. Her hands slid down.

“Yeah,” I growled. “Rub that ruined little pussy while I fuck your throat.”

She obeyed.

I felt it before I saw it — her body shifting slightly, hips squirming, legs twitching. Then her moan turned desperate. Higher. Faster.

“Good girl,” I muttered.

Her eyes rolled back as I pushed deeper, forcing her nose to my skin. She gagged, eyes fluttering, and I pulled back just enough to let her breathe before I rammed in again.

Again.

And again.

Her spit coated my shaft, dripping down her chin, mixing with the mess already painting her face. Her fingers moved faster between her legs now — wild and sloppy — and every time I bottomed out in her mouth, her thighs flexed.

“You want to cum?” I asked, hips slamming forward again. “Make yourself cum. I want to feel you fall apart while you choke on me.”

She whimpered, barely audible, her throat full.

I didn’t stop.

Her nails dug into her thighs. Her legs trembled. Her moans grew frantic, desperate little gulps of air between strokes. Her whole body jerked when I stayed deep just a second longer.

Then she started to twitch.

Her thighs clenched.

Her pussy clenched around her fingers.

She was cumming.

Sobbing and choking around my cock, her whole body writhing as she came for the fourth — fifth? — time tonight. Her scream was trapped inside me. Her lips sealed around the base. Her eyes rolled back.

I was close.

I gripped her hair tight and let go — thrusting deep, staying there.

“Fuck—take it—take all of it—”

I came hard.

Down her throat.

Hot, thick, pulse after pulse, and she took it — moaning as I filled her, drool and cum leaking from the corners of her mouth, her body still twitching, her hand still working her pussy like she couldn’t stop.

When I pulled out, she gasped once — then let her tongue loll out, panting, face soaked and wrecked.

I dropped to my knees and kissed her.

Hard.

Tasting myself. Tasting her. She moaned into my mouth, and I felt her legs give out.

We sank down together — breathless and shaking, sprawled across the sweat-damp sheets, skin to skin and fucked clean out of words.

And just before she drifted off — eyes fluttering shut — she mumbled it.

“Mylo…”

Then, softer.

“Goddamn.”

I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep until I woke up to her laughing.

Not loud. Just this low, breathy giggle, like she was trying not to move too much but couldn’t help herself.

She was lying sideways across the bed, one leg thrown over mine, face buried in a pillow, bare ass peeking from under a sheet. Her hair was tangled, lips shiny and pink, and when I shifted, she blinked slowly like she’d forgotten I was real.

“That was you,” she murmured. “Huh?”

I rubbed my eyes. “You're just figuring that out?”

“No,” she said, yawning. “Just processing.”

She flopped back beside me, arm stretching over her head.

“Damn,” she whispered. “I thought I was gonna break you.”

I snorted. “You tried.”

“I succeeded.” She poked me in the ribs. “You were shaking at one point.”

“You were sobbing.”

“You gagged me!” she laughed.

“You handed me the gag.”

She smiled, smug and satisfied. “I know. And I stand by that decision.”

The room was quiet again for a beat. She curled up beside me, head nudging into the crook of my shoulder, like it was a habit she hadn’t realized she had.

I ran my fingers slowly down her back. She hummed at the touch.

“You okay?” I asked.

She nodded.

“Better than okay,” she said. “Just… quiet.”

Her hand moved to my chest, resting flat.

“People always think I’m loud,” she said. “Like, nonstop. Funny. Bubbly. That’s what they want, you know? The energy.”

I stayed quiet.

“But I like quiet, too,” she added. “Like now. After.”

“Yeah,” I murmured.

She looked up at me. “Do you always fuck people like that?”

“Like what?”

She laughed again. “Like you’re trying to prove a point.”

I didn’t answer.

She traced slow circles on my chest.

“I liked it,” she said. “Just so we’re clear. You’re not in trouble.”

“Oh, thank God.”

“Mmhm.”

Another beat.

“Do you think Karina heard anything?”

I blinked. “I—what?”

“I mean, her room’s down the hall.” She stretched her arms above her head. “And I was loud.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“She’ll pretend she didn’t. But she’s definitely going to say something passive-aggressive at breakfast.”

I groaned and dragged a pillow over my face. Ningning cackled.

“She’ll be fine,” she said. “Eventually.”

“Right. Because she loves me.”

“No. She doesn’t.” Ningning rolled onto her side. “But that’s not your fault.”

I peeked at her under the pillow.

“She’s under a lot of pressure,” Ningning said, tone softer now. “She has to be the leader, the oldest, the one who keeps it all together.”

She paused.

“People forget that it takes a toll.”

I stayed quiet. Let her keep going.

“She’s always expected to protect everyone. Keep us moving. Carry the image, the team, the weight. But nobody ever really stops to think…”

She trailed off.

“To think what?” I asked.

Ningning’s gaze flicked toward the ceiling.

“Who protects her?”

It sat heavy and quiet in the room, louder than her laughter, more grounded than her teasing.

After a moment, she sighed, shifting so her cheek rested on my chest again.

“You should go soon,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” I said.

Neither of us moved.

I dressed quietly.

Ningning didn’t move much — just curled deeper into the mess of blankets, her breath soft and even, one arm tucked under her head like she’d melted into the bed. She was flushed, glowing, hair fanned out on the pillow like the aftermath of a storm.

For a second, I didn’t want to leave.

I pulled my shirt over my head and watched her shift slightly, murmuring something incomprehensible. Her lips parted, then closed again.

I grabbed my jeans. Shoes in hand.

Careful.

The hallway outside was dim, washed in low amber light from the sconces. Quiet. Not the kind of quiet that felt peaceful — the kind that felt like it was watching.

I crept down the hall, heart beating faster than I wanted it to. Not fear, exactly. Just awareness. I wasn’t supposed to be here. Not in this hallway, not on this floor, not in this part of the story.

I paused at the top of the stairs.

The house was beautiful in the dark. Expensive without being loud. Sculpted. Stylish. But sterile, too. Like every piece had been approved by a manager and a stylist before it earned a place on the shelf.

Like nothing here belonged to them. Not really.

I started down.

Halfway to the landing, my phone buzzed.

I flinched. Fumbled it from my pocket.

Giselle.

A text.

The last thing she’d sent: "Tell me if you leave?”

I stared at it.

Then I looked away.

I kept moving.

The front door came into view. I reached for the handle — paused when I caught my reflection in the glass.

Shirt rumpled. Hair a mess. Lips swollen. Scratches across my neck.

No hiding what happened.

The guilt wasn’t sharp. Not a stab. Just a slow curl in my chest. A twist.

Giselle and I weren’t anything. No promises. No label. But there had been… something.

Connection.

I hadn’t forgotten it.

I just hadn’t known what to do with it.

I stepped outside.

Cool air hit my face. Night still hanging low. The stars blurred into the city haze and the wind carried just a hint of jasmine from the garden. I breathed it in and closed the door gently behind me.

The driveway was empty. The gates were still open.

I walked.

No noise. No music. Just the sound of my shoes on pavement and the thoughts I didn’t want to hold onto:

Giselle’s hand in mine. Her voice. Her breath in my ear when she told me she wanted me again.

The way she looked when I kissed her goodbye at the door.

I wasn’t sure what I’d say if she asked.

If she looked at me with that half-smile and said, Did you miss me?

I didn’t know.

But I was starting to wish I had.

A woman’s voice pulled me back. Soft. Familiar.

Across the street, a mom was helping her kid into a carseat. Brushing the hair from his face.

“Come on, sweetie. It’s for our own good, remember?”

My stomach twisted.

I stopped walking.

The words echoed in a different voice. One I hadn’t heard in years.

"It’s for our good, okay?" My mother. Not looking at me. Not meeting my eyes. The hallway light yellow and sick. A man in a suit smiling at me. An envelope changing hands. The click of a door closing. The sound of a zipper.

I blinked.

Came back.

The woman was gone. Just taillights now. Fading around a corner.

I breathed out and rubbed at my face with both hands.

Kept walking.

I didn’t know where I was going.

But it wasn’t away from her.

Not anymore.

TO BE CONTINUED... PART 4

[chenouttachen]

incoming: incomprehensible thoughts about charlie and jeff in ep 7

well. here we are.

my thoughts have been simmering for the past few episodes and now they're boiling over. before we get to today's torment and misery, some highlights that have contributed to our present situation:

charlie taking jeff to the lab, hearing the results and declaring that losing Jeff is not an option. In any situation.

since they've found this family and their place in it, charlie has been able to take on the older brother role in every way - particularly in teasing him and being the person jeff goes to advice

jeff coming to the realisation that, as his powers get more and more out of control, he needs to isolate himself again. especially from the people he loves the most. it was bad enough growing up and seeing their pain, he doesn't want to know what it's like to feel it. and charlie has to stand by and watch his little brother close himself off again, after coming into his own.

when charlie leaves babe after... the incident... jeff tries to be the voice of reason. he knows it rarely ends with charlie listening to him, but he tries his best. charlie also has the sweetest little 'whose little brother are you???' moment and it just cements that if anything, they've become even closer now that everything's behind them (sigh)

(in the process of collecting these screenshots i was reminded that i didn't make any posts about them from eps 2-6 because i was too damn sad)

so now today. episode 7. endless suffering and pain. let's do this.

we've seen the tensions between them rise: jeff has been trying to keep charlie grounded, despite everything going on. but jeff's powers rapidly spiraling out of control has charlie on edge - he's spent years of his life protecting him, and he's not about to lose him, not when he's finally happy. but they're also in a place where they're equals: they share advice (solicited or not), they support each other, and they help each other make hard decisions. or at least, they did until the end of this episode.

at the head of the episode, we've got charlie quitting x-hunter to focus on the drug (allegedly). already we can see guilt weighing heavily on jeff here - he knows that he's a big part of charlie's focus on the lab, and he also knows what a blow this will be to alan.

jeff's not thrilled about this choice, and he takes it directly to charlie, who is kind of stunned, like he doesn't expect jeff to push back so openly. but charlie is also not here for the dramatics.

he's seeing the bigger picture, perhaps too much. he's focused on minimising the circle around him, and trying to ignore the damage that leaves behind. only this leads to charlie having to unravel his motives to distract jeff from alan's heartbreak.

and jeff is jumping on these revelations immediately. he sees the weight of what charlie has decided to shoulder alone, and you can physically see him slump at the realisation that they haven't escaped anything, and that everyone they love is still at risk.

and god, jeff sees right through charlie. he knows immediately that with the increased risk to himself, to x-hunter and especially to babe, there's no way that charlie is going to approach this normally - they faked his death the last time this happened, and jeff was the one who had to pick up the pieces. he tries so hard to break through to charlie, that hey, maybe sacrificing yourself again isn't the best option. but charlie barely hears him. he's so set in his mission to let himself be destroyed in place of his loved ones, that most of what jeff says falls on deaf ears. it's enough though, that it does let babe in later, just a little.

enough time has passed since jeff's last conversation with charlie to know that he clearly hasn't spoken to babe, and jeff has had enough facing all this alone. he watched babe grieve his brother once, and he won't do it again. this doesn't mean he'll throw charlie under the bus, however, because he frames it as something he saw in a vision, rather than a secret that charlie has been keeping alone. he knows that it'll take all of them combined to keep charlie from doing something incredibly stupid. alas...

at the hospital, charlie is all questions at first. he wants to know what's happened, how the visions have progressed, but the longer he looks at jeff, the longer the silence lasts, the clearer it becomes that things are so fucking wrong. jeff isn't seeing him, isn't hearing him; he's stuck in his vision. he's visibly shattered when he realises that despite being awake, jeff is barely in the room with them. it's impossible for him to accept the version of his little brother in front of him. he can't leave him like this.

jeff's condition cracks something in charlie. usually he's the first to offer solutions, to keep the ball rolling and make sure they have a goal. but he can't do that. alan's trying to be optimistic, asking about the drug, putting his faith in charlie. but charlie knows they're not close. not close enough to help jeff. he can't even stand and face them - he sits, barely looking at them.

every second that charlie spends listening to alan talking about sacrificing himself to protect jeff and x-hunter breaks him down further. he knows that jeff would hate that and you can see the exact moment he makes his choice. charlie cannot sit idly by, letting his loved ones suffer, when there's something he can do about it, regardless of what it will cost him.

truly it was sick of them to start this sequence focusing on charlie's hands. this is the first time we've seen him be so intentional with his powers, seen him carry himself with the weight of what his touch can do (and oh, isn't that a fun and heartbreaking parallel with jeff). we also get this shot of charlie looking over jeff in his hospital bed. charlie has surely seen jeff in vulnerable positions before, but this is the first time the younger man has been truly helpless. and charlie has realised that he can help.

he hesitates, because he knows that jeff (rightly) would be pissed about him doing this. he's never used his power on jeff, because jeff explicitly asked him not to. but charlie can't ask jeff for permission right now, and he needs to act, needs to help him. so he takes jeff's power without consent.

jeff, of course, wakes up to this violation of his bodily autonomy. he's horrified by what charlie is doing - both because he's taking the choice away from jeff, but for what it'll mean for charlie. they've always talked it through before, even if charlie doesn't listen. they've been partners, equals, but charlie sacrificing himself in this moment is almost a betrayal of that. charlie is desperate to save his brother, but he forgets that jeff feels the same way. charlie is stripping them both of the chance to face this together. (but god, that shot of their hands together, clinging to each other for all the wrong reasons)

we're left with this shot of our brothers out cold, senses overwhelmed by what's just happened to them. their worlds are going to be irrevocably changed when they wake.

also shout out to jeff's bracelet on the bedside table which literally brought tears to my eyes when i spotted it.

[jasmines-library]

Could u pls do a Winchester sister fic like (season 10 ep. 15) but instead of the parasite going into cole it goes into the sister and Dean tries to shock it out like in the episode but then she almost dies and they have to try and find another way

The Things They Carried

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Word Count: 2284 (wow look at me go)

Warnings: Uhhh not sure how to phrase it. Overall gore, kinda throwing up?

⛧ SPN MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

The woman had vanished without a trace. Well, at least at first. Her body was found strung upside down in the storage room of a remote part of the city Feyetteville, North Carolina. Perhaps one of the most perplexing parts of the victims disappearance, was that not only was she an Army Private, trained in Krav Maga and Jiu-Jitsu, but her organs had been drained, along with the bone marrow sucked out of her body. This is what had caught Dean’s attention. He now sat in front of you and Sam, the article pulled up on his ipad.

Sam raised his eyebrows, his forehead wrinkling as he studied the article once more before handing it off to you. “So…cannibalism. You thinking a Rugaru?”

“Or a God. Maybe.” Dean agreed. A second later he was up on his feet, ready to go. Sam tried to protest. Ever since Dean got the mark of Cain Sam has been solely focused on trying to find a way to remove it. He was constantly on edge and you had to admit you were too. It seemed that no amount of research seemed to give enough answers on the mark. Eventually, with a look from his older brother and a defeated sigh, Sam let up and not even 10 minutes later, the three of you were speeding down the road.

Much to your disappointment, when you arrived in the city the first thing the three of you were told was that the local police had closed the case. However, they had given you a name, and the incriminating evidence. The sheriff; an elderly man, perhaps late 60s with white, thinning hair, had also told you that the offender had also committed suicide before the feds could lock him up. He also told you that this was the third suicide the city had seen in the last 6 months. A pattern. This was definitely something supernatural, if that wasn’t already clear. However, when Sam asked about the body, the sheriff informed the three of you that there were no bite marks, and that the victim had been killed with a bowie knife. That ruled out a Rugaru, leaving your trail dry.

The next step of the hunt was to speak to Beth, the offender's widow. She was rather distraught as she bounced her baby softly in her arms. When she glanced away from it, you could see the pain in her eyes; the dark circles that rim them. 

“Rick was a kind soul.” She insisted sadly, glancing down at the floor. The way she spoke of her late husband was filled with awe, but woven thick was pain that choked up her voice. You could tell that she still hadn’t processed her husband’s recent change in personality. 

“Did you ever notice anything strange?” Sam asked gently, his fingers clasped together as he leaned against the countertop. “Violent mood swings?”

“Weird smells?” You added.

“No….” The woman frowned. “But Rick was- he was-” she stuttered, unable to word what she wanted to say correctly, almost as if she didn’t really believe it or understand it herself. “He was thirsty.”

You tilted your head at her, her words catching your interest. “Thirsty for what?”

Her answer surprised you. “Water. He’d spend half the day drinking from the garden hose. And then, when I told him to stop it was like he couldn’t even hear me. And his skin; it got so dry it bled.”

Your older brothers watched intently. “Did he see a doctor?” Dean questioned gruffly.

The poor woman shook her head. There were now soft tears rolling down her face, mingling with the ghosts of the ones there before. “He just got put on a list to be put on a list. And then he stopped talking. He just wasn't himself–” she sniffled, shifting her baby in her arms. “I thought��.maybe it was just PTSD.”

No one said anything for a moment before you broke the silence tenderly. “We’re very sorry.”

“You said that Rick had been recently deployed.” Dean said. “Do you have any idea where?”

“No.” She answered rather bluntly. “That stuff’s classified. They don’t even let the wives in on it.”

And the trail runs cold again. 

But then, just as you were about to leave and Sam left your number, Beth stopped you again. 

“There’s one other thing.” she added. “I ran into my friend Jemma at the supermarket. She’s married to Kit Verson. A guy from Rick’s team. She thinks Kit came back different this time. Kind of felt like we were dealing with the same thing.”

The trail picks up again.

After a little while running around after Kit Verson, discovering that he murdered someone else the same way that his friend did, the three of you ended up in an old shack that his wife believed he might have fled to. It was dark. Eerily so. However not as eerie as the trail of dead mice on the floor. Machetties in hand and guns in holsters, the three of your crept through the darkness of the hut. You found him hunched over in the back room of the house. His breathing was rough and ragged as though he might have run a mile at top speed. When you reached out to touch his shoulder, his head whipped around, bloodshot eyes boring into you. His mouth and face was splattered with blood and dirt, and his movements were erratic as he stood up to face you. He gripped you tight, cold fingers like icicles against your skin as he pushed you back against the wall. And then his eyes were pleading with you. The harsh crease between his eyebrows softened for just a moment as he used his body weight to keep you pinned up against the wood panelling. 

“I’m sorry,” he grunted out, wrestling with you to keep you in his grasp. “I can’t stop.”

And then, you were on the floor, dirty ground rising to meet you fast as he made you lose your footing. And then, as you struggled beneath him he made this awful gagging noise as the creature slithered out of his throat and forced its way into you. You coughed, gagging yourself as your brothers rushed into the room. They were on Kit in seconds, but he was strong, throwing your brothers around before dashing out of the door. Quick on his feet, Dean followed, leaving you staggering for breath on the floor with Sam.

“Are you alright?!” Sam asked, alarmed as he rushed to your side, helping you up off the floor.

You coughed. “Some-something’s inside of me–” a grimace spread across your face as you felt it move. “It’s alive–”

“It what?” Sam blinked. “What did it look like? Do you know what it was?”

“Khan worm.” Dean answered, catching on to the end of the conversation. “At Least i think it is. Why? Did you see it?”

You groaned in pain, so Sam answered for you. “It crawled inside her.”

Dean froze, his eyes going wide. “What?”

Sam nodded grimly. 

“Did you see what it was? Dean asked worriedly. 

You coughed, hands flying to your mouth. “Khan worm.”

“Shit.” Dean cursed aloud, running his hands through his hair. 

“We have two options.” You said, trying to hide the grimace on your face as you felt the worm moving, ,crawling under your skin. Neither of the two options were very pleasant at all. You and your brothers had worked a case with Khan worms a few years ago and there were two ways that you discovered the worms could be killed. And while these worms seemed slightly different to the first ones you discovered, you figured that they were similar enough that the same rules would apply. The first option was probably the most forward one, but it also involved certain death; a headshot to the infected person that would cause the worm to flee the body where it would then be crushed by Sam or Dean. Option one was very clearly off the table. The second was far more painful, but it also harboured greater chances of survival. 

Dean began to protest immediately. “No. No no. there’s got to be another way.” 

“You know we dont-”

“Kid….” Sam started. 

“Just do it. We have no other choice.”

Dean sighed, turning away and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright.”

~

Dean had managed to find two batteries hidden in the small cabin. He placed them grimly on the table with a thud before connecting two of the jump wires that Sam had gone and collected from Baby’s trunk. You were sitting in the armchair, fingers gripping the leather as you waited anxiously. Sam tried to give you some comforting words, but you weren’t sure who he was trying to comfort more; you or himself. 

“Alright.” Dean said, his voice laced thick with an anxiousness and guilt he was yet to shake. He brought the cables over to you as you took a deep breath, placing a wooden spoon between your mouth to keep you from biting through your tongue. 

Settling back in the chair, you took a moment to collect yourself. To prepare for the agony you were about to put yourself through. And then, you gave him a brief nod 

The sudden pain when Dean pressed the jump cables to your skin was overwhelming. Unbearable. A million agonies all combined to one as the electricity raced through your veins. You screamed, crying out as your teeth bit down on the wood of the spoon, which helped to muffle the sound. Both of your brothers winced at the sound of your agony as you twisted and writhed. Sam had to look away and Dean had to force himself to keep the cables against your skin though he yearned to take away your pain. But nothing happened. As soon as your brother removed the cables, you were panting for breath, trying to recover quickly from the pain. You couldn’t help but notice the looks on your brother’s faces.

“Anything?”

Sam shook his head dismally. The parasite was still in you. 

“Go again.”

Dean startled. “What? Are you crazy?”

“Go again.” You strained. 

Dean collected himself, and then; the same pain. But still as you writhed. Fists clenching and nails digging into your palms the worm remained inside you. And your brothers were growing increasingly concerned. Your movements began to slow as you grew quieter and your eyes fluttered, drooping with a sudden heaviness. Dean pulled the cables away immediately and you slumped back against the chair. Your head lolled forwards against your chest and your breathing was concerningly slow and laboured. 

“Okay….okay…” Sam said gently, slipping an arm behind your back to help support you.You whimpered slightly at the movement. “ Shh. You’re alright sweetheart.” he glanced up at Dean, fear and worry evident in the creases on his forehead. They would have to find a different way to get the worm out.

~

You were sweating. Gods….you’d never been hotter. Your body still ached as you sat in the armchair of the cabin. The old leather was flaking off and was practically covered in a sheen of your own sweat. Sam and Dean had pushed it towards the fire, leaving you to sweat against the heat. They had figured that as the parasite needed water, if they could make you sweat it all out…then the creature would leave. But now you were practically slumped in a chair, dark veins crawling up your neck as you tried to rid the worm from your body. You coughed a little, your throat dry, with no way to soothe it. Thirst…..that was the only thing that consumed your mind…you were so. damn. thirsty. Your body craved it. Anything you could get you would take….even your own brothers’ blood. The parasite yearned for something. You could feel it, squirming around inside you. Uncomfortable, you whined before coughing a little, doubling over on yourself. 

Sam placed a hand on your shoulder. “Hang in there, Sweetheart. You have to sweat it out.”

“Can’t–” You coughed. 

“Yes you can.” Dean shut you down quickly. “You can’t give up. Winchesters don’t quit.”

Reluctantly, you nodded. Your head spun. You felt sick. But you knew you couldn’t give up. You were in for a long waiting game. 

It wasn’t until a few hours later, when you were on the verge of breaking down that you began to feel it slithering up your throat. You gagged, coughing as you tried to expel the creature from your body. 

Sam and Dean were by your side in seconds, both trying to coax you through it, ready to stomp on the worm as soon as it made an appearance. Sure enough you managed to cough it up uncomfortably. It splattered on the floor, squealing as it writhed and trying to slither off to infect someone else. It didn’t make it far before Dean slammed a heavy boot over it. And once more for good measure. It squelched under his shoe, peeling off from it as it stuck to the floor. He grimaced at the sight before moving to crouch beside you, checking on you.

You wiped the string of saliva from your mouth with a grimace before gratefully taking the water bottle Sam offered you and wasting no time before drinking it to quench your impossible thirst.

“That's it. Easy, Sweetheart.” Dean cooed. “It’s over now.”

“You did it, kiddo.” Sam said, guiding you to lean back in the chair more. “We knew you could do it. We’re proud of you.”

(A bit of a rubbish ending! I'm sorry i wasn't sure what to do)

⛤⋅•⋅∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

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[kestrel-of-herran]

my thoughts on peterrose in season two + predictions for season three

i want to preface this by saying that i ended up enjoying season two wayyy more than season one, and i think it came down to the bigger complexity of the storyline, the unpredictable alliance switches and twists, and the depth with which the afterglow of peter and rose's experiences and relationship in season one was handled. this season's focus on angst and exploration of the psychological impact of the work on both of them and what it means for their relationship really elevated the love story for me from a pretty clean-cut "us against the world" vibe to the messiness of both of them being used to blackmail the other and their relationship straining because of the secrecy around the missions and the contradictions of rose feeling safe with peter but being constantly endangered by his work and peter needing rose around for his peace of mind but rose suffering psychologically from her proximity to the morally grey aspects of his work. chef's fucking kiss where's the next course

peterrose things i loved in season two + development from season one

rose having the option to leave anytime

while in the first season both of them had little actual choice about whether to stick together or not, circumstances that created a kind of bubble around them and aided the romance, this time around rose could have backed out repeatedly, making every time she chose to stay a decision that had as much to do with peter as with the help she thought she could give to the investigation. not only was she there at the beginning to help him gain some trust in people back and make sure he didn't steer off the ethical path, but later she also discovered for herself that even in the thick of danger (the party, the air vents situation in the last ep) she prefers to try to help rather than back away. it's a mode of thinking that will definitely lead her to sharing some of the danger of the job longer-term if the show lets her explore it.

closeness without labels

this is one aspect that i thought was handled with so much care and delicacy in a way that felt very satisfying to watch. they haven't seen each other in ten months, but she still has scores of photos saved on her phone (the show could have easily gone with one selfie, the fact she was always showing a different photo really shows they dated for a while before his posting, and were happy enough during it to constantly take pics) and doesn't hesitate to ditch her job and track him into danger because she's worried sleepless about him. she doesn't hold not calling her back over him even though she's clearly hurt about it because she knows it's out of his control, but he still apologizes and makes it clear again and again how thankful he is that she's there and how she's helped him both emotionally and logistically, like with noticing an attacker or planning the party heist. even as he wants her to leave to be safe, he doesn't make her feel like she's intruded or endangered his mission, but follows her advice and always gives her credit when she contributes to the work. they're comfortable enough with each other to cuddle and hug and kiss spontaneously, but they never discuss exactly what kind of relationship they're in because it's obviously a closeness both of them enjoy and initiate and they care more about being together than giving their relationship a label or discussing a future together at a point when he's so involved with his work and she's still sorting out how she feels about it. she doesn't pressure him about quitting and he doesn't force her to stay, he notices whenever she's upset and talks things out with her, and gives her space to process her feelings even if it means she might realize she's better off out of his kind of life. they both try to give the other whatever they might need in terms of emotional support and space to change their mind, even if that contradicts what they each would prefer the other to do or want or if it would result in emotional pain for them personally.

domesticity

i was absolutely treated to this trope this season. sharing clothes, him casually bringing her drinks while she's working, buying her food and knowing her preferences by heart, all the little jokes and fights that just made them feel like a family throughout the season. it shows clearly that their dynamic goes beyond needing each other in dangerous situations, that they were having a swell time just teasing each other. it's a quieter dynamic than the previous season, because they're both more aware of the constant and repeatedly chosen danger of the situation that is now a way of life rather than a crazy few days before things would go back to normal, but it's also more profound in how it acknowledges the trauma while showing they're still really compatible in the little safe haven of their nights at home.

partnership

they really felt like an agent couple in this season, not only in the way their skills complement the other's, but also in how they're both on the same wavelength of thinking during high-stakes situations and are able to brainstorm through them together or understand each other without words. peter didn't hesitate to tell the guy blackmailing him with rose's life to fuck off because he has faith in her ability to evade the attacker if he warns her. rose's involvement saved several of the missions from going south, and as much as he's uncomfortable with her choosing danger over safety in the moment, he clearly admires the effectiveness of her contribution. moments like when she noticed the comms being overheard and when she ambushed markus and showed peter what she'd do just by counting with her hand really show how perfectly they work as a team, and how much smoother operations in the future would go if they're both there to have each other's backs and think through problems together.

your life for hers

fuck me uppppp i love this shit soooooo much. i think one of the main jobs a writer has when developing a plotline is to explore all likely scenarios emerging from the goals and feelings of the character until that point, and the emotional development when it comes to peter protecting rose here is spectacular. while in the first season he was focused on protecting her partly from a feeling of friendship and because he wanted to do right by her and felt responsible for her, in this season it's as clear as day that he's protecting her because he values her life more than his and he's completely aware that if something happens to her it'll wreck him completely. he spends the better part of the season processing the loss of a mission partner and blaming himself for it, and it only serves to bring into focus how much worse things will be for him if rose gets hurt. she's no longer someone he's protecting because it's the right thing to do but someone so precious to him he's fraying at the edges just imagining something happening to her. she's his priority to the point that he doesn't hesitate to throw the mission and put himself in the position of a traitor that he has so much trauma about because of his father, because her being alive and safe is worth every sacrifice to him. the look on his face every time he was blackmailed is 1000000/10.

separation parallels

i really felt the upgrade of the separation scene this season, from the neat wrap-up of the hero flying off into the sunset while his girl waits happily for his call to both characters showing their emotions with all their bitter aftertaste and just feeling through a situation they can't amend right now. i absolutely love how worried rose was whenever someone slipped that peter had done something he could be charged for and all through peter explaining his decision to her, because it's not just that he loves her but that she was used against him and as long as they love each other this can happen again. peter was just excellent here, from taking the time to tell her himself to checking his urge not to get to the bottom of his feelings and taking her hands as he told her the full truth of what he feels for her. rose just breaking down crying and him hugging her and that head kiss was just sooooooooooo perfect in capturing how much they care for each other. rose's expressions as she watches him leave in the taxi and her going towards it are particularly telling, as is her struggle to maintain her smile and carefree tone while talking to noor. her reaching out to noor in the first place speaks volumes to me already, because if she didn't want to be involved with peter's world anymore i doubt she'll want to meet with anyone from that stage in her life now that she's managed to break away from it. noor wasn't buying any of her statements, and from the scene when she sensed something was wrong with her family leaving iran from rose's facial expressions alone, i think she's pretty good at reading her, and the lingering shots on her face leave little doubt rose isn't as fine as she'd like her to think.

predictions for rose in season three and beyond

my thoughts on statements of the writers and actors

the two things that are on my mind when i'm reviewing all the interviews that have addressed rose potentially not continuing with the show are that (1) the showrunners have the right to change their mind about the focus of the show whenever and although it would be like shooting themselves in the foot if they drop her that's their (very unreasonable bc i love rose to pieces) call to make, and (2) no one involved with the show would reveal a major twist before the season has even finished shooting. let's look at some statements of the cast and crew in light of that.

"We don’t want to artificially create a situation where characters have to be part of a specific season on a regular basis. We want to tell the story that feels true in that moment. I am very aware that one of the big strengths of Season 1 — and what I think is a big strength in Season 2 — are Peter and Rose together. I think the relationship is really strong. [...] Their shared trauma from these first two seasons has built this incredible bond. But is it enough to overcome the difference in their lives and their lifestyles Is something that we spend a lot of time talking about. So, not trying to duck the question, but we’re still creatively looking into all that. This, hopefully, with the success, will be a long-running show, and the question you raise is something that we talk a lot about in the writers room." (source)

they're clearly still writing the season and figuring out where they want to place rose in the story without compromising her moral code, and i think they might have wanted to hear the audience's and critics' responses to this as well before they wrap up this season's plot. journalists keep bringing this up in interviews and i think that's very telling to how the public as a whole and not just the shipping fandom views the show as about the both of them, so i hope that interest makes a difference in how they perceive the future of the show as a successful one as well, since they do need people to stick around and characters are a huge draw (case in point i started this for the couple rather than the plot, and didn't even find the plot engaging until season two, but i'd never spend hours of my morning writing an analysis for their excellent handling of plot only). they're clearly aware of peter and rose as a huge boon to the show, but also want to make sure that either of the actors not being able to continue with the series isn't going to put the whole thing out of business. one way i see this playing out is with rose having reduced screen time in season three but coming in as a regular in season four for example, if another season of peter doing agent stuff while she develops something (a program, fighting skills) is what's required for her to fit smoothly in the events surrounding him. i can also see they're anxious not to repeat plot points and make copies of previously successful seasons, so i expect rose's future involvement in the plot to be more creative and not replicate her previous actions, e.g. her not seeking him out on her own in a similar way again, but likely coming in as a partner already in some official capacity.

"That will be a part of Season 3, him trying to emotionally and logistically deal with the unintended consequences of his actions in season 2. [...] The goal isn’t darkness but what I would say is — and I’m involved in a coalition that talks a lot about how mental health is portrayed on TV — one of the things that we wanted to do in Season 2 was model Rose’s behavior as being how you want to approach trauma and violence in your life. She’s seeking professional help, and she’s making progress. Peter, on the other hand, is approaching it in a very old fashioned, very masculine, frankly, way of burying it, ignoring it, and that doesn’t often work. I’m always adamant that I don’t want the show to become so dark and impenetrable, so I think you’re going to see a lot of sides of Peter in Season 3 in the same way that you did in Season 2. I hear your question, and no, the show isn’t about going to the abyss with Peter." (source)

kuddos to them for that honestly i absolutely loved the ptsd portrayal in season two, but the main thing i'm getting from this response is that it's very unlikely for rose to be killed off to remove her from the plot at this point, or to double down on peter's trauma, because that's how peter would define "going into the abyss" imho.

"I would say that that moment, that breakup scene, felt true to us, the writers, as we were crafting the second season. That they live in two very different worlds, that he wants to be in this world that's dangerous, that she doesn't particularly want to be in a world that's dangerous, and yet they have this incredibly strong connection forged over living through and helping each other through these traumatic events. So there's always going to be this incredible connection between the two. What that will mean for their onscreen pairing I think is something that we continue to talk about and will figure out. So, I don't know yet, because we haven't definitively decided what it means for the characters. I will just tell you that we love the character of Rose. We love the character of Peter. We love Luciane and Gabriel as actors. I think they're tremendous together. When we started to work on season 2, I came back to the writers with what I felt were strengths of the show from season 1, and the very first one I wrote down was Peter and Rose together. So we don't take that lightly. At the same time, we don't want to craft something that feels inauthentic just to be a fan service, to keep them together in ways that might feel unrealistic. So that will be the responsibility and the struggle of the writing staff and myself as we craft further seasons." (source)

i think bringing them on the same page about the work can be done with the kind of emotional development they pursued when they explored the impact of trauma and morally grey choices on both of them, so i see this mostly as a matter of narrative time and writing effort, providing they're willing to put those in, rather than the characters being naturally incompatible in terms of their life goals. case in point, rose's characterization in season one came down to happy to break the rules, threaten people with arms, steal things, and kill to protect others or to avenge her loved ones. it's only in season two that we see her struggle with threatening people and endangering lives, so that was a very conscious narrative choice and a huge pivot for her character arc from a tiny daredevil (aspects of her we still see in the party scene for example) to the voice of reason in ethically dubious situations. this kind of major change of heart can happen easily with sufficient screen time and the kind of plot points to inspire it, and is completely within the writers' abilities should they want it to take place.

"I have no idea [whether Rose will be back in season three], and I can’t spoil anything. I wish I could tell you, but Peter does say ‘No, don’t come looking for me,’ and I don’t think Rose takes well to direction; she does whatever she wants. So you never, never know." (source)

it's worth seeing the video of her answering this question, because honestly to me she seems happy to give a little hint of something bigger. it's either her character sixth sense talking (and she's right), or she already knows she'll be brought back to wrap-up the season. i think rose showing up unexpectedly, and prepared, when peter's been spending the season dealing with choosing her safety over remaining clean, is only going to contribute to that theme.

"You can have love for someone without physically expressing it. I think that’s, I don’t want to say trope, but a lazy way of showing that two people care about each other is having them hook up. Sacrificing your life for someone or putting your life at risk to save someone, I think, is a bigger testament of love than giving them a kiss or something like that. The relationship is important to both of them, and you see that through their commitment to one another and keeping one another alive, regardless if that means they’re going to be together, at least they’ll have done what they can to protect the other." (source)

turn this shit upppppppp i love this so much... but this brings me to the fact that as long as they're in love they will be used against each other, so it's time to develop some scenarios from there (and i don't mean them not being in love anymore bc that's just unrealistic at this point; it would require either of them making choices the other can't understand and the entire series becoming more dark, "you can't love anyone"-style, than the writers seem to want it to; giving peter another love interest instead also just seems like undoing a ton of hard work and audience interest just to pull a james bond, and i think they care about being original way more).

plot-realistic scenarios

i'm using this term (likely made-up by me, a writer finishing a book atm btw) here to indicate scenarios that need to be followed for the plot to feel satisfying, e.g. ignoring them would require some disbelief suspension and might make the audience doubt they're seeing the logical development of events and characters as they have been built up so far.

rose is going to continue being used to threaten peter

if part of his goal next season is to eventually turn against the guy holding rose's life over his head, peter needs to make sure she'll survive that plot point, either by protecting her again or warning her and making sure she's in a safe environment while he takes the guy down, for which we need at least a cameo, though that is the laziest way to wrap this up imho. i think the guy will absolutely keep tabs on her so he can use that if peter goes astray, so she'll be involved in this as long as peter's an agent even if she's living a normal life, and i doubt peter will be able to make anyone believe that he doesn't care about her since all it takes for the truth to come out is for someone to point a gun at her head.

rose would benefit from some combat training or security if she's going to make it through this show alive

at the very least, keeping rose out of the show without killing her means also providing her with the means to protect herself as long as peter is being blackmailed with her life, which is one of the few plot points that seems to be a given for the next season. a basic agent training course that would allow her to rebuff attackers, or security trailing her to make sure peter isn't compromised because of her, are the least catherine can do to make sure her plans for peter are successful.

catherine doesn't seem to be done trying to use rose

at multiple points throughout this season, catherine was impressed with rose's coding and recruited her help for a job, and i doubt she'll just let an asset go if she thinks she can be useful. she knows peter's a weak spot for rose that she can utilize to put pressure on her (like with the security cameras, the consequence of rose's choice not to join would have been peter being exposed to more danger, so she changed her mind), and since peter is pretty central to her plans for season three, it makes sense to keep rose closer rather than further. she knows rose can get through to peter when no one else can or take him out of the path she's set out for him, so risking her being too far out of sight to influence strikes me as unreasonable. and what better way to bring rose back into the action than with a bang, by placing her in the middle of a covert mission in later eps (preferably without warning peter to amplify the emotional climax of the reunion) with the kind of skills that would make her at least competent in avoiding capture when things go wrong.

the show has barely scratched the surface of rose as an agent

i mean this seriously, there's so much to work with when it comes to her becoming an agent or helping out with some of the jobs or even if she's joining the action as a voice on the comms while she's hacking some system. peter won't always be in the position to make sure she's safe, and she's been showing so much resilience, quick thinking, and willingness to pull a gun or stab someone during a fight. she's smart, a creative and smooth liar, and refuses to give up even when the odds of her making it are slim. she'll be an asset to any mission the show involves her in, and keeping her in a california office is a huge waste of potential.

rose's arc is far from wrapped up

the thing with rose as a character is that her arc could have been wrapped up in season one without bringing her into season two and the show would still have made sense despite the (disappointing for me the rose fan) shift in focus from romance to political intrigue. the showrunners seem keen to be making that shift anyway, but they decided to keep peter and rose's relationship as not only a subplot but the driving force behind peter's moral conflict and the starting point of him becoming a double agent in season three. rose received a great amount of screen time, agency, and emotional development, but it wasn't enough to feel that she exited the story cleanly and permanently. she clearly still has a lot of processing to do when it comes to both her feelings for peter and whether she wants to join the action and save lives (at multiple points in the show she turned back and rejoined dangerous situations not only out of love for him, but because i think she knows that without her input, chances of things fucking up increase exponentially) despite the danger to her safety, mental health, and moral integrity, and the way to conclude these plot points is to give her more screen time to get full closure or process her trauma and decide to become more involved with night action. even with new storylines and characters appearing, the show will only benefit from keeping rose and peter's relationship as a subplot and exploring the shift in their dynamic and feelings if she's cleared to join the missions on par with him or becomes an agent on other postings unbeknownst to him at first (night action picking up the phone when he has a crisis in season three or her appearing in a completely unrelated undercover mission happening in the same place he's working his target so both of them are thrown off-balance by the proximity). how will their romance develop if she's as competent a fighter as him, if she puts herself at risk as regularly, if their superiors try to use them against each other to manipulate both to their ends? now that's something i'd kill to watch.

[unknownati]

iv. ekko x gn!black!reader hcs

a/n: they got me yall.

sorry for whoever followed me for tlou content we'll be having a brief intermission i'll come back to them in a minute js let me get this out my system 😭🙏🏾

warnings/tags: no use of y/n, no mention of reader's features (except for being black, but it's only in a few points 🤷🏾‍♀️ so it can be read otherwise), arcane s2 spoilers (minor), sfw and nsfw hcs, (oral sex, kinks, riding), in some au where everyone is happy and nothing bad ever happened 😊, never proofread we ball 🔥

______________________________________________

sfw:

- i feel like ekko is a bit shy (awkward shy though, not shy-shy...does that make sense) when you first get into a relationship with him, and it's just because he's shocked that he's managed to get with you. at first he's stumbling over words, playing off your compliments, desperately trying to keep eye contact with you but if he does he just keeps smiling because you look so good.

-one time, while riding past you on his hoverboard, you waved at him. he waved back, but even as you walked away his eyes kept following you. if it wasn't for scar warning him at the last second, he would've crashed straight into a wall.

- his cockiness comes later into your relationship, every successful action he does followed by a grin that you roll your eyes at.

-and did y'all see the way he looked at powder in ep. 7? his puppy dog eyes are LETHAL.

-he doesn't even know it either. every time he wants something, he just looks at you with those eyes and murmurs "please, ☆?" you fold so quick.

-(you've tried to learn to resist his eyes as they are what caused you to sprain your ankle in a hoverboarding accident since he begged you to race him. he just wanted to show off, too. he didn't stop apologizing for weeks.)

-he usually doesn't really like people touching his hair. he's fine with the kids doing it from time to time, but in general it's not his favorite thing in the world.

-you, however

-you get a pass because you get it. you know how it feels for your hair to just be like a petting zoo from time to time. you know exactly how to help him care for his hair, so much so that he's stopped doing his own retwists. (not like they stay in for very long, you immediately help him sweat it out 😊)

-he's made a lot of random little things for you, like a small chain necklace with an empty locket. he kind of sucks at wrapping gifts though, so he just handed it to you with a stupid smile while you two were perched at the top of the firelight tree.

-"ekko, this is so cute," you mutter, your bottom lip jutted out in adoration as you inspect the delicately crafted chain. small mistakes here and there, but you loved it.

-he also learned how to sew just so he could make you a bonnet/durag. he even sewed a crude little "e" in the corner of it, and made himself one with your initial in it as well.

-will randomly shadow box you out of no where. it's some form of cuteness aggression or something, because you'll be talking about your day while absent-mindedly twiddling with the hem of your shirt, and suddenly there are fists flying towards you that he knows to never let connect.

-"...ekko, the fuck are you doing?"

-he makes small noises that sound like "shoo" every time his fist flies, watching you stare at him with an unimpressed look.

-saw someone else say this but yeah ekko can't hoop. sorry

-he CANNOT hide his facial expressions. he may tell you one thing, but his face will never lie. if you're out eating and you feed him a bite of your food, you can watch his face contort into one of disgust, so much so that he almost looks offended. upon realizing that he doesn't want to yuck your yum, he'll fix his face into the fakest smile you've ever seen and nod.

-"...ekko, go spit it out."

-you've never seen him reach for a napkin any quicker.

-idk who the arcane universe's michael jackson is but, when he was younger he absolutely learned all the dances.

-probably the biggest softie the world has ever seen. he's very tough in public, but once he closes the door behind you two and climbs into bed with you, he's clinging onto you like a sloth.

-if you like painting your nails, he'll (hesitantly) allow you to paint his nails to match yours.

-(these next few ones are sliiightly for me 🤭)

-loves when you draw on his arms.

-until he can't get whatever marker you used off of his skin in the shower, so now he's walking around looking like a coloring book with little flowers, hearts, and signatures on his arms.

-he hangs up all the drawings you make of him up along his work space. sometimes he forgets one and leaves it on his desk, so it's a pleasant surprise to find a drawing of himself among scattered and disorganized papers while he was cleaning up.

-has gotten used to you randomly biting him. you'll come up behind him while he's working, and he already knows it's coming when you rest your chin on his exposed shoulder. 2 seconds later, your teeth are sinking into his skin. he just chuckles, but he does ask once.

-"why do you do that?"

-"oh, i dunno. i just like doing it. 's how you know i like you."

nsfw (very brief i'm sorry):

-praise kink. you couldn't tell me otherwise

-loves giving praise, loves receiving praise.

-when he's giving you head, he almost does it for his own pleasure. feeling your hand rub against his undercut while you whine and mutter "fuuuck, ekko, you're so good. don't stop please" is all he needs

-and i'm glad we've all agreed he's a thigh guy too 🙌🏾

-and IK we say this about every fictional man but HE WHIMPERS.

-he starts off with groans and grunts, but the closer he gets, the more his voice starts to shake and his words start to become whines.

-he looooves when you ride him holy shit

-looking up at you while your face contorts in pleasure is absolutely on his top 10.

-and if you stare into his eyes while you do it? his soul has left thanks!

-in general he loves eye contact. when you look up at him with his length between your lips, you can see his brain start to short-circuit.

-he's definitely the type to make sure you finish first before he even gets to think about his own pleasure.

-he's usually super sleepy afterwards too, but he refuses to lay down for a second until he makes sure you're all cleaned up and comfortable before he's out cold on your chest.

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[ilemonducki]

Just watched Mumbo's Hermitcraft 10 ep 43, and couldn't help but try my hand at a Goth Mumbo Jumbo! It was just a quick sketch but I haven't posted here in a while... It's been a lot this last year but... new year new chances?

He is just the Goth representation we needed! Might do some more sketches later on I love the idea of victorian/vampire style Goth Mumbo ♡♡

[prapaiwife]

Top form EP 10 *flowers and tears*

No Liveblog today just a quick recap and my little thoughts if you care to read lol.

This episode really hit close as someone who lost their Grandma when I was just born. I don't even remember most of my memories with her but I do have pictures to look back on to just imagine and reminisce. This episode was so beautifully done with the connection you felt between akin and his grandma.

The moment he finds out that his grandma has passed away and goes to see her as she's bedridden and he reads her the last letter that he was going to give to her. That letter was basically him pouring out his heart to her about everything that has happened in his life the struggles and pain he faced but the light he found in the midst of everything because of Jin. The phrase "close the book and go love" was something he remembered when his grandma used to read it to him and he keeps that quote close to his heart. Because he recalls all the moments with Jin and how he really took a chance on love. She gave him the best example of love to begin with and he knows now more than anything what it's like to love and be loved back the same way.

The dream sequence Akin had with her and his Grandma meeting Jin. Stop her, maybe absolutely just ball the moment he saw her, but moment we went into the dream sequence, I was a mess. Akin feeling so guilty that you didn't make enough time to see her and her constantly reassuring him that she always just wanted him to put his career first he wanted him to be able to be a star in his own right. And she was okay that it meant that he didn't have enough time for her even in her last moments because she knows how much he loves her and she knows how much she loves her grandson. And the way she accepted Jin with open arms and was very curious about their relationship.

Given she knows about how her grandson is lol and Jin just says it all was so cute and funny. And then we had the letter that she left for him but he wasn't ready to open until later in the episode that she did with jin. And it was so beautiful I can't stress the love between a grandma and their grandchild it is something so precious because their grandchild is an extension of their own child and so the love is so beautiful like I can't even put into words. The letter was so sad yet hopeful on how his grandma knew like she wasn't going to be able to stick around any longer but she wanted to put this letter out for him. She wanted to let him know that she was always proud of him and she's happy that he was able to find love of his own. And the letter ending with her saying the best thing that she can ever leave behind in this world is just her grandson. I mean my heart was pulled just crying this whole episode. I don't think I can ever watch this episode again.🤧 Akin was grieving, so heavily throughout the whole episode, and Jin was always there he never not once left his side he took every bit of pain and carried it as his own with akin and held him through every moment.

These shots in particular broke me🤧

then it went into akin wanting to honor his grandma by working on the film that she left behind called flowers and tears. And he was working on it making it happen for her Jade had his back he was going to help him. Only for it to literally be ripped out of his hands by sigma Jin's company cuz they brought the rights to it. And made it so that it was hard for anyone else to even bother trying to get it back. But akin right now in the state of his life after losing his grandma. And his career being at kinda a standstill from all the scandals and things he had to deal with. He's not ashamed or afraid to fight and beg to get it back. And he will have jin stand by him and Jade to help him and support him in this. It's just sad and disgusting that they felt like they could do that. It's so spiteful and so evil of them to do that and I hope they burn to the ground and the finale. Even the funeral process even when those reporters showed up. Just do disrespectful and they wanted to pry and get their questions answered. And he literally had to lay his grandma to rest not that long ago. Even Jin's manager or friend was trying to pull him away as well. Reminding him of all the job responsibilities that he has to do. Just so completely out of touch and insensitive don't know how he still friends with him but I don't think Jin even knows the extent of what his friend has done to him so.

But overall an amazing beautiful episode on grief and loss and can't wait for the finale I know it's fast track today but I may hold off and just watch it next week with everyone.

And the rings of course I had to mention the rings and the way Jen has it engraved with the word "mi tesoro" which means my treasure which is just 😭😭😭😭😭😭

[lildiva00]

Choso x reader<3 comforting Choso!

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“Choso?”

You’d been looking for your boyfriend for a while now. He hadnt answered any of your calls, and you were getting worried. He’d never missed a call from you, and if he had he’d called you back a minute later.

And now you were infront of his apartment, unlocking the door with the key he gave you. No response came when you call his name. And you take off your shoes, walking further into his home.

And then you hear it,

Muffled whimpers and cries coming from his bedroom. You take fast steps and open the door to the room, and when you walk in you dont see him at first. And then he sniffles.

You look down to see him sitting on the ground, hands on either side of his face as if to muffle out any loud noises.

And there are tears running down his handsome face.

“Choso…” you say softly and he looks up from his lap, and as if on cue he starts sobbing. You almost run to him, getting on your knees infront of him, careful not to touch him in case he doesnt want that.

Its always him taking care of you, him protecting you. Seeing him like this made your heart break.

“honey…whats wrong?” you speak to him quietly as hes still crying, trying to hide his face in his hands.

Suddenly He reaches out his arms and pull you into him, your form almost invisible now as he incases you in a hug, whimpering into your hair, spilling his tears. You reach up and stroke the top of his head softly, trying to calm him down.

You feel yourself start to cry too, from how much it hurts to see him like this. He senses it immediately and pulls his face away from your neck to look at you,

“no…” he says in hoarse voice, “m’ sorry…sorry dont cry my baby im…im fine,” he hiccups the words out, his breathing a little shaky.

You shake your head, “this isnt about me Choso…just…dont like seeing you sad,” you say in a small voice as he strokes your cheek with the back of his hand.

“just…” he starts, “just miss my brothers,” he gets out before sobbing again.

You hug him tightly to you, carresing his back.

You sit there for a little while, you stroking his hair, and him crying into your neck, your shirt now wet with his tears. Hes almost calm now, his body has stopped trembling, and hes only sniffling a little.

“i know you miss them Choso…its okay” you tell him gently, “but you dont have to deal with it alone,” you stroke his cheek, whiping away the last of his tears.

“im here now…im here for you okay?”

He nods, “love you so much,” he says quietly, “i wanna get takeout for dinner…and watch a movie with you in my lap,” he kisses your forehead, “and you cant leave…not even to pee…or ill go with you,”

you giggle at him, hes adorable.

“promise me you’ll tell me next time you’re sad okay? i want to help…just like you always help me,” you kiss his lips softly.

“promise,” he says in a serious tone.

you kiss his face all over before speaking again, “ill call for some chinese food,”

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hes so cute im gonna jump.

this is very self indulgent i needed to write this so i wouldnt tweak too much about seeing him cry in the new Ep :’) i needed to hug him so bad.

[lonely-ey3s]

Ride or Die | Chapter Two

pairing: rodeo/cowboy!joel miller x f!reader

chapter summary : You meet up with Joel and watch his bull-riding event. Afterwards, the two of you attend the fair, where you get to know each other more and catch up after the years have passed.

chapter warnings: fluff, slow burn-ish, angst, Joel speaks Spanish (translations will be there), reader has a somewhat emotionally abusive father, gaslighting, racism, slurs (hispanic slurs), flirting, mentions of guns (fake guns), switched POV's.

word count: 7.9k

a/n: as a reminder, chapters will be every other sunday-- alternating with heartlines !! just fyi, i know little about being a cowboy so if lingo is wrong, please let me know, i'm going off purely google.

also- may the gods be with us tonight for ep. 2 of TLOU 😰

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

Masterlist

You’d woken up the following day earlier than usual. After your argument with your dad last night, and where you were going today, you didn’t want to really have a part two of last night. 

You had your farm chores done before the sun was up, which meant you were done before your dad and Wes were up to leave for the fairgrounds. 

You quietly made your way back upstairs and into your bedroom to get ready. This way you wouldn’t need to go back downstairs until you’d need to leave after they’d left about a half hour before. 

You showered, dressed, and made your way downstairs about an hour later to grab something to eat quickly when you were met by your dad in the kitchen. He was reading the newspaper with a cup of coffee. 

He looked up the second you saw him, so it was too late to turn around and avoid him. 

“Shit” you muttered under your breath. 

He sighed, looking back down at his paper, “I know you’re avoidin’ me...” 

You didn’t respond. You opened the fridge to find something to eat. 

He continued, “You were up before the crack of dawn— which you never do, and then now you won’t even look at me.” he peeked over his paper. 

You bit down on your tongue. You were still pissed about what he’d done and said last night but weren’t wanting to spoil your morning with arguing with the brick wall known as your dad. 

“Can you at least look at me?” he asked, setting down the newspaper he had. 

You grabbed an apple and a protein shake from the fridge, keeping your back to him. “Why aren’t you at the fairgrounds with Wes? Thought he had an event this morning…” 

He shook his head and cleared his throat. “That’s not important…”

“It’s been important for the last three years to you. For you to be at every waking moment of that boy's rodeo career– steerin’ it in the direction you see fit. Why’s today different?” You turned around and raised an eyebrow at him, closing the fridge. 

There was a coldness to you. You were rigid and numb. Your dad rarely saw this side of you, but when he did, he would poke the bear rather than soothe it. 

“You got somethin’ you wanna get off your chest?” he clenched his jaw. 

You shook your head and scrunched your nose, frustrated. “Dad, I really don’t want to get into this. You shouldn’t even be here.” You looked down, messing with the sticker on the apple. 

“Ah, so you are avoiding me!” he clapped his hands together and scoffed. 

You looked up and shrugged, “Yeah, what if I am? What if I’m not ready to talk it out?” 

“We’re family. We don’t talk it out. We forgive and move on…” he chuckled a little too casually. 

You shook your head and chuckled sadly, “You’re right, Dad. We just avoid the responsibility and move on…” You clicked your tongue and winked. “Got it.” You moved to walk towards the front door, choosing not to fuel the fire he was trying to reignite. 

He got up and started to follow you. “No, that’s not what I mean! I just… god damn it.” he had a hard time finding the words he wanted to say. 

You grabbed your purse and keys from the coat rack and key ring, then opened the front door and walked down the steps, trying not to engage with his antics. 

“Would you just stop and talk to me? I’m sorry, ok?” he sighed. 

You turned around suddenly and looked at him. “Sorry about what specifically, hmm?” 

He was winded and sweating as you both now stood out in the sun in front of your car. “I… everything. I’m sorry about everything,” he said, shrugging. He wanted to get over the conversation, move on and forget about it.

You shook your head, “No because that shit isn’t genuine. If you don’t know what you’re sorry for, then it’s just to say it so things can stop bein’ uncomfortable.” you opened your car door and threw your purse in. “Maybe I like that you’re uncomfortable, Dad. Perhaps I am relishing the fact that you are being held accountable for your words and actions – I mean, someone has to do it. Wes is too scared to, and Ev is too obedient…” 

“Wes ain’t scared of me!” he said louder, defensively. 

You dryly chuckled, “Dad, he’s not scared of you… He’s scared of being anything other than what you want him to be. He knows how much you already despise him…” 

There was a moment of silence before he croaked out, “I don’t despise him…” he raised his eyebrow at you, then his demeaner changed, becoming rigid as well. “What have you been tellin’ that kid?” he accused. 

He wanted to go there? Let’s open the can of worms, then. 

“Dad, since the day he was born, you’ve been nothin’ but cold to him.” You shut the door and leaned up against it, crossing your arms.

“No, I haven’t!” he scoffed and threw his hands in the air dramatically.

You stood and looked at him, lips pursed. “You can stand there and tell me– swear to me on mom’s grave— that not a single ounce of you blames him for mom's death?” 

He said nothing but shook his head, putting his hands on his hips, starting to pace back and forth.

“You can stand there and tell me you did everything possible to raise him?” You tilted your head and started to narrow your gaze. “Did you do all the late school nights? Did you do the school lunches? Oh, and I must’ve forgotten, you got him to all his extracurriculars and cheered him on in every single one of them?” you started to raise your voice, your emotions starting to seep. 

“No one asked you to do that…” he stopped and looked at you. 

“You’re right! No one did! But everyone begged you to– but you ‘couldn’t’ or it was ‘too hard’. So I stood up.” You pointed to yourself. “I took over.”

He shook his head. “Yeah, and you’ll never let me live that down, will ya?” 

You chuckled and nodded, feeling defeated by his victim's complex. “You’re right, Dad. I’m the bad guy.” You pushed off the car and opened the door. “I’m the person to blame for your lack of involvement in our lives once Mom died.” You shook your head and looked at him disappointedly. “I’m the reason for it all.” You got into your car and shut the door, turning the ignition.

He stood there with his hands on his hips and shook his head at you, shouting at you. “Go ahead! Run away like you always do!” 

You felt tears sting your eyeline as you looked behind you to back out, putting the car in reverse. 

“Go! Leave when things get hard!” he shouted as you backed up. 

You weren’t going to let him see your tears. You weren’t going to let him know he got under your skin. 

You backed the car up out of the dirt driveway and then flipped around. You drove down the dirt road that led up to your house like a bat out of hell. 

The second his figure was a dot in your rear view mirror, you let the tears fall freely. 

You felt a deep pain in your chest. You never felt after your mom's passing that your dad was a parent. He was just someone you lived with. 

He was cold and distant, and no matter how hard you and your siblings tried, he just disconnected from you all in different ways. 

You’d never fully gotten along with him, and there had always been this wedge between you. However, since being home, he’s just felt impossible to be around. It’s felt like he doesn’t want you here— and that hurt most of all.  

It was about a 25-minute drive. Most of which was consumed by you singing your lungs out in anger— getting it all out. 

When you got to the fairgrounds, you touched up your makeup in the mirror before getting out and making your way out of the dusty parking lot. 

You made your way through the busy weekend crowds to the main arena, where you found some seating towards the middle of the bleachers. You pulled out your phone and texted Joel:

‘Hey, cowboy 💗 Big crowd today!’ 

Within seconds, you received a text back. 

‘Where are you? I’ve been lookin’ for you!’  

Instantly, your mood brightened from the gloom you’d felt since leaving the house. You couldn’t help but smile at your phone before looking up towards the arena, trying to spot him. 

You looked down at the pens and gates for him, looking at every cowboy and trainer. After a few moments, you found him towards the back of the pens. He was next to a few other cowboys who were getting numbers pinned on their backs. 

He was smiling down at his phone, waiting for your response. He had his whole competition get up on and had already gotten his number pinned on his back, 413. 

You giggled, blushing before you looked down at your phone. You then stood up from where you were sitting and texted back,

‘Check your 9 o’clock, handsome 😘’ 

You watched as his head popped up from his phone and turned towards your area. His eyes scanned the rows of people before they landed on you. He instantly beamed up at you, smiling warmly and wide. 

You waved at him and giggled, watching his reaction. 

He held a finger up like he was telling you to wait a moment. 

He then jogged over to Randy and told him something before jumping the gate and starting to walk down the dirt path towards the section you were sitting in with the biggest smile on his face. 

You jogged down the stairs to meet him at the bottom.

You wore another sundress today; this one was paired with a jean jacket and your boots. You had your hair tied up in a claw clip, in a low messy bun. 

He wolf-whistled as he watched you come down towards him at the bottom of the stairs. He had one hand resting on the railing, waiting for you.

“Dios mío, ¿no eres la chica más hermosa que he visto en mi vida?” (My God, aren't you the most beautiful girl I've ever seen?) He said, as his eyes drank in the sight before him. 

You blushed and chuckled, standing on the step above him, putting your hand over his on the railing, “You gonna get another winning belt buckle today, cowboy?” You gently tugged on his buckle with your pointer finger, biting your bottom lip. 

He smirked and looked down at your hand. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He looked up at you and tilted his head a fraction. 

You nodded and slowly pulled your hand away to put it on your hip. “I mean, I did tell you that I only go on dates with champion-winning cowboys…” You looked down at him, smirking. 

He chuckled lightly and began playing with your fingers softly on the railing, “It’s a good thing I’m a national champion and have this in the bag, then, isn’t it?” he looked back at you, and his eyes danced back and forth between your lips and gaze. 

You shyly pursed your lips together and hummed, “Just be careful out there. We’ve got a date at the fair after, can’t have you getting hurt hmm?” You moved your hand from the railing to wrap around his shoulders with your other hand from your hip. You stepped closer a little. Your fingers messed with the curls at the base of his neck.

Joel felt his heart pound faster, and his throat suddenly became dry. His cheeks bloomed light pink. 

No one made him this nervous. He’d never been with a girl who challenged his confidence like you did with such ease. It was intimidating but also exhilarating.

He smiled, dimples and everything up at you. “Yeah, we can’t have that, hermosa…” he moved his hands to lay on your waist, pulling you closer just a little.  

You popped one of your legs up behind you and leaned into him, “So tell me, who’s your biggest competition today?” You nodded over to the other cowboys. 

His eyes drank you in for another moment, dancing across your features before he followed your gaze. 

He hummed softly, “I’ve heard that 346 is tough competition… I was told he came close to beating my score at nationals.” 

You found 346 in the pen and hummed, “How close?” you asked.

346’s gaze found yours, and he smirked, tipping his hat towards you.

Joel’s jaw clenched, and he automatically straightened up, seeing him make eyes at you. 

You felt him become rigid and chuckled lightly before gently taking your hand and pulling him by his chin to look at you, “Hey, eyes on me, cowboy…” 

He let you pull his chin, and his attention was back on you, “Eyes on you…” he murmured. 

You let out a small chuckle and then used your finger to push his hat up a little, “I want you to show 346 and all those other cowboys why you’re the national champion…” 

He grinned and gripped your waist lightly, nodded up at you, “Show ‘em why you’re over here with me and not them?” 

You blushed and peeked over his shoulder to see 346 and a few other cowboys looking your way, all of them smirking and whispering things to each other.

You looked back at Joel and smiled, “Show ‘em you’re my cowboy…” You twirled his curls at the base of his neck softly with your finger. 

He lit up at that statement. His eyes became brighter, and his heart filled with a warmth he’d never felt before. 

He chuckled softly and leaned in, nudging his nose gently against yours. “Your cowboy, huh?” His eyes dropped to your lips. 

You couldn’t help but giggle and nod, “Mhmm…” 

He hummed, and you felt him pull you closer by your waist, but before anything else happened, you both were interrupted by the announcer shouting over the system.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen! Who’s ready to watch some bull’s buckin’?” Then the crowd went wild with cheers and shouting. 

You giggled and pulled back a little, “I think that’s your cue, handsome…”  

He bit his bottom lip and looked up at you, “Meet me in the barn after? Come meet Moonshine?” 

You nodded and tipped his hat back down gently, “I’ll see you there afterwards.” 

He slowly let go of your waist, but then at the last second, pushed up on the step and kissed your cheek softly before grinning as he started backing up to walk away. “I’ll see you after querida…” 

You blushed and put your hand to where he kissed, pursed your lips together shyly. You watched as he walked back into the pen and hopped over the gate. 

The cowboys who had their eyes on you whistled towards you and waved. You chuckled, seeing Joel eyeing them from across the pen and headed back up the stairs to your seat. 

After three other cowboys competed, it was 346’s turn. You watched as he strapped in and prepared in the bull chute.

The bull he was on was massive and pissed. He was already banging up against the walls and loudly bellowing made your adrenaline skyrocket, you can’t imagine how the rider felt.

346 was being lightly shaken about inside the enclosed space, jolted back and forth as he pulled on the rope that tied his hands down, shouting to the staff around him, “Let’s go!” He nodded towards the gate to open. 

There were a few men inside the ring to help cattle the bull once the rider fell off, ready to assist. There was one more on the gate prepared to pull it open. He looked at 346 and nodded, “Ready on 3?” 

346 nodded and then looked over at you as you stood with the rest of the crowd and watched.

He looked at Joel then back at you and winked, tipping his hat, as he shouted at the chute man, “Ready!” 

You chuckled and muttered, “Show off…” 

You looked over to see Joel with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the gate, watching 346 closely.

The gate slammed open, and immediately the bull exploded forward with a lurch that nearly tore his arm out of the socket. His body whipped back, then forward again as the beast twisted mid-air, back legs kicking toward the sky.

The crowd roared around you for him to keep holding on.

Three seconds in, you could tell he was having trouble balancing and moving with the bull.

Five seconds—his body was already flailing about, back and forth. Every jump looked like it would snap his spine– it was whipping him about rough and crazed. His balance was going, slipping, held together by pure willpower and a half-decent grip.

Eight seconds came and went.

He was past the goal.

He clung harder, gritting his teeth, trying to ride it out. The bull bucked again, hard to the right, and he overcorrected. His free hand flailed—too low, too wide.

“Come on, let go…” You muttered to yourself. 

Ten seconds. Eleven.

At thirteen seconds, the bull spun sharp to the left—and his body didn’t follow.

The next thing you saw was his hand slip, and the bull threw him like a rag doll.

He hit the dirt chest-first with a gut-punch thud.

The crowd echoed in a collective, ‘Ooh!’

The bull was still bucking behind him. He scrambled, boots slipping in the dirt, adrenaline giving him just enough juice to run. He sprinted for the fence, tripping once, but climbed it like his life depended on it.

The other clowns corralled the still pissed off bull away and towards the exit, trying to soothe it. 

You looked at the scoreboard and saw ‘13.7 seconds – Montgomery’. It was the highest score so far.

Joel’s name was announced to follow after a small break. 

After hearing his name, your palms became sweaty, and your stomach dropped. 

Joel’s POV 

He watched as Will, or 346, fell off Big Bronco’s back and quickly got to his feet to run out of his way. 

He looked up at the scoreboard and saw the final time counted and grinned. His time at nationals was 14.6. He’d be just fine. 

After Will straightened up, he walked past Joel, a shit eating smirk plastered across his face, taking off his gloves, “That Whitaker girl is gonna rethink goin’ out with you after you lose, Miller.” he nodded towards where you were sitting.

Joel chuckled and turned to lean his back against the gate, “Sigue hablando tonterías, verás a dónde te lleva, idioto.” (Keep talkin' shit, see where it gets you, dickhead.) Then he tipped his hat towards him, grinning back. 

He nodded towards Joel, “How about you speak English and say what you want to say to my face, amigo.” he spat some chewing tobacco, landing it in front of Joel’s boots. “This is America, not Mexico, beaner.” he scoffed and rolled his eyes as he went to walk away. 

Joel looked down at it and smirked as he looked back up, “Crazy how you’re racist and uneducated in what slur to use—life really handed you the short straw twice didn’t it, pendejo?” 

Will stopped and turned around, clenching his fists at his side. “What did you just say?” 

Joel moved off the gate and tutted, “See you at the award ceremony, gabacho…” then walked the other way towards the pen.

As he strolled, he put on his gloves and whistled to himself. He wasn’t going to let someone like Will shake him up. 

Will made it a few steps to go after Joel before his manager intercepted and held him back. He put his hands on his chest, telling him to ‘let it go’. 

Randy came up beside him and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. “You ready, kiddo?” 

Joel chuckled lightly and nodded, “Yes, sir.” Then he looked behind his shoulder at Will being babied by his manager not to start things. He grinned, knowing he got under his skin. 

Randy gently squeezed Joel’s shoulder to redirect his attention, “The bull you’re on today is Big Philly. He’s huge and mean– already gone after three cowboys this week. You think you can show him who’s boss?” 

Joel turned his head back around and tightened his gloves– dialing in, “I got this.”  

Randy chuckled and let go of him. “I’ll see you after, kid. Good luck out there,” then walked off, leaving Joel by himself.

As he continued, his boots hit the dirt like war drums.

The bull inside was already slamming its weight against the metal, snorting like a furnace, rage boiling behind its eyes.

He could hear the crowd, but it was muffled, like sound underwater. The only thing loud now was his heartbeat, hammering against his ribs. His fingers twitched, his throat was dry, but his veins were fire. That rush—pure, unfiltered adrenaline—surged through him, buzzing under his skin, sharp and electric.

Time slowed as he climbed over the chute into the pen. He sat on the back of the bull and began strapping himself in. 

Muscles primed, senses dialed in. Every sound, every movement, every breath was exaggerated—crystal clear. The bull let out a guttural bellow and slammed the gate again. He didn’t flinch.

The chute man looked at him through the opening, “Ready?”

Santi mounted up on the gate and patted Joel’s back, “You got this, mijo.”  

Joel glanced at him, then looked towards the crowd and found you. You were already standing and had your eyes on him. 

You smiled and waved before holding up two thumbs up. He tipped his hat at you and then looked back down.

He heavily exhaled before nodding and clenching his hand around the rope, “Let’s do this.” 

The moment the chute gate flew open, he was already ahead of the bull.

It burst out like a shot, low and coiled, twisting hard to the left. Most riders would’ve been airborne in two seconds, but not Joel. 

He sat deep, loose where he needed to be, tight where it counted. Years of instinct took over—every micro-adjustment drilled into muscle memory from a lifetime in the arena.

He wasn’t just holding on—he was reading the bull like a seasoned gambler reads a tell. Letting it buck, juke, and twist, allowing it to try every move in the book. He’d seen it all before, and he had answers for all of it.

The crowd roared, but it might as well have been silence. His focus was surgical. The bull kicked high, spun back, and snapped into a wicked turn—but he moved with it like it was choreographed. He didn’t fight the chaos; he became part of it.

Eight seconds passed. The whistle blew. He didn’t flinch.

He kept riding. 

At ten, the bull was still throwing heat. At eleven, it tried a last-ditch twist, desperate to shake him. His spine bent like a reed but snapped back just as fast—calm, controlled, and composed.

At fifteen seconds, he jerked Joel hard right. One second, he was on top; the next, he was airborne, weightless, and wide-eyed.

He hit the dirt like a bag of bricks. Pain bloomed in his ribs, but he didn’t wait to feel it. 

He scrambled to his feet and ran—ran—hard for the fence behind the pen. Boots slipping, lungs burning, heart pounding loudly in his ears.

The bull snorted behind him, but the clowns were already drawing him off.

He swung up and over the fence like it was nothing. He was safe—bruised, filthy, grinning like a madman.

He brushed the dust from his jeans. Behind him, the arena lit up with noise, but all he could do was look and see you cheering loudly– for him. 

Santi came jogging up to him, proudly grabbing him into a hug, “¡Bien hecho, hijo!” (Way to go, son!)

Joel’s attention was pulled from your gaze and he chuckled as he wrapped his arms around his dad, “Little sore, but god damn that was a rush!” 

His dad pulled away and put his hands on his arms, looking up at him, “What’s gotten into you these last couple of days? You’re competing like a beast!” he shook him gently, beaming. 

Joel smiled and cleared his throat, “I uh, I’m not sure Dad…” 

He knew exactly why, though. Ever since he laid eyes on you, he had one thing on his mind when in the arena. He wanted to impress you. He also had a bet to win, but nonetheless– it was all for you.

Santi touched his cheek and chuckled, “Well, keep it up! With this momentum, we can make it into the big leagues!” 

Joel’s eyes found his dad's, and he swallowed, “Big leagues? I– Dad, that’s a commitment.” he nervously chuckled, backing up a bit. He looked down to start undoing his gloves, seeing his dad’s expression drop. 

“I thought that was somethin’ you were workin’ towards…” he put his hands on his hips, confused by Joel’s shift. 

Joel looked up, seeing the slight disappointment in his dad’s features, so he cleared his throat to break the tension, “Forgot what I said. I think I’m just a little amped up– not thinkin’ straight.” he tightly smiled. 

Santi nodded and smiled tightly back at his son. “Yeah, yeah, sure,” he chuckled, taking in a deep breath. 

Joel nodded and started to undo the top of his vest. “Hey, I’ve got some plans after this, I won’t be home ‘til late. I just wanted to let you know.” 

“Plans? With who?” Santi tilted his head, slightly smiling. 

Joel nodded his head your way. “I waited ‘til competition was over like you said… but I asked her out. We're attending the fair and going to watch the fireworks show tonight…” he smiled softly, hoping his dad wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. 

Santi followed his gaze to you and hummed, then nodded back at Joel. “Does Judd know about it?” 

Joel’s eyebrow raised, “Why would her dad need to know?” 

Santi bit the inside of his cheek and tutted, “Just don’t be surprised if he makes a fuss…” He shrugged and sighed. “He’s never been a fan of our family for some reason.”

Joel looked at you in the crowd; you were laughing with someone next to you. “Yeah, well Judd can dislike me all he wants, ain’t gon’ stop me from gettin’ to know his daughter.” He looked back at his dad, eyes determined. 

He knew that once his son had his sights set on something, he’d move heaven and earth to make it happen. Judd wouldn’t stop this from happening. If you liked Joel back, he knew you and your siblings to be just as stubborn. Your dad wouldn’t be able to keep you or Joel away from each other, no matter how much he disliked it. 

Santi nodded and then let a soft smile etch across his lips, “Well, have fun and don’t do anythin’ stupid… yeah?” 

Joel nodded and smiled warmly back at his dad, “Yeah, yeah, nothin’ stupid.” 

The overhead speakers announced that the award ceremony would begin soon and that the competitors should proceed to the north end of the arena. 

Santi nodded that way, “I’ll meet you over there.” 

Joel nodded and patted his dad’s shoulder softly before starting to jog over that way. 

After the awards ceremony, the crowd was slow to disperse. You had a hard time getting out quickly, as you had wanted. 

The second you made it out of the stadium, you headed towards the barn area.

You had butterflies in your belly, and after earlier, you couldn’t wait to be back with Joel. He was electrifying to be around. 

You opened the door to the barn to see horses lining the stalls.

You smiled and walked up to the first on your left. It was a black-and-white spotted Appaloosa. “Hey there, beautiful…” You gently stroked its neck. 

You heard Joel’s laugh echo from further down. You gently patted the side of its neck and began walking further into the barn, looking down each stall for him. 

You made it halfway before you saw Moonshine peeking out from the stall, then Joel and his dad were together in the stall. 

Moonshine neighed and nodded his head towards you, giving away your presence. Joel looked over and saw you, instantly smiling brighter, “Querida…” 

You smiled back, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude, I can come back…” you pointed towards the exit. 

Santi cleared his throat. “Nonsense… I was just on my way out,” he said, smiling and nodding to Joel. “I’ll pack him up when we leave, and I'll see you later tonight, hmm?” 

Joel nodded and stuck his hands in his pockets shyly, “Yeah, thanks, Dad.” 

Santi nodded and then opened the pen door and stepped out, gently touching your shoulder and saying softly, “It’s lovely to see you again, sweetheart.” 

You touched his hand and nodded, “Same to you, sir.” 

He then made his way out, leaving you and Joel alone. 

You pursed your lips together shyly and looked at Joel, then Moonshine, “He’s gorgeous…” You stepped forward and clicked your tongue, reaching out to touch him. 

Joel smiled and leaned up against the window beside Moonshine and looked at you, “He’s my pride and joy…” 

Moonshine set his muzzle in your hand, and you tilted your head as you gently stroked up and down the bridge of it. “Aren’t you a sweet thing?” you chuckled. 

“He likes you…” Joel said softly, watching how his horse melted in your grasp.

You looked over at him and shrugged, “I’ve been told I’m somewhat of a horse whisperer…” You winked and looked back at Moonshine, eyes scanning his features. 

Joel hummed and leaned his chin against his hands that were on the edge of the window, “You got that horse the other day to follow you like it was nothin’...” he watched your eyes scan over Moonshine and was entranced by you.

You smiled softly, “That was all Buck’s doing… he’s the neutralizer.” 

Joel smiled wider. “Buck?” He sat up and turned towards Moonshine, gently stroking his hand against his side where the saddle had been. “Is that your horse?” 

You nodded and let go of Moonshine, moving to stand where he had just been on the other side. “Yeah, he’s my old reliable…” you chuckled softly. 

Joel nodded as he continued to stroke his horse gently, “He’s good at what you two do, which I assume is get all the idiot cowboys’ horses back in line when they go crazy?” he joked. 

You let out a soft giggle. “You could say that.” You hummed and began messing with a horse bit that was hanging out of the window. “Buck and I used to work the rodeos before I left for Nashville– we’d help in certain situations that needed extra hands unexpectedly.” you softly spoke.

Joel looked back at you and tilted his head, “You were gone for a while. Who took over with Buck when you were in Nashville?” 

You looked up, “I know my dad tried…” you chuckled and shrugged. “But Buck doesn’t like him all too much, so I think Buck had a few years off…” you tutted.

Joel didn’t like the sound of that. Horses were pretty observant of people, and if Buck didn’t like your dad, then what did that mean for how he treated you? 

He stepped in front of you from the other side and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, like I’m sure Buck feels, I’m glad you're back.” 

You blushed and shyly looked down, “Yeah, me too.” 

He moved his hand down to gently pull your gaze back up by putting your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “How about we go enjoy the fair, hermosa?” 

You blushed deeper and nodded, “They’ve got a Ferris wheel this year…” 

“I thought we could go on that before the fireworks begin…” he winked. “I’ve got a buddy that can pull some strings to make it happen…” 

You chuckled and bit your bottom lip, “I’d like that…” You looked down at his lips before looking back up. 

He let out a small chuckle, becoming suddenly a little nervous, “Mind if I change real quick? I just need to get out of my competition gear…” 

You shook your head, then backed up. “No, not at all. I’ll wait outside,” you said, nodding to the exit. 

“Oh no–not like that.” he smiled and chuckled, “I just need to uhm…” He took off his competition vest and chaps.

He was left in a dark blue button-down and black jeans. He rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned a few of the buttons on his collar before dusting his jeans off then smiled at you, “Ready?” 

Your breath got caught in your throat at the sight of him in front of you. He looked like a whole ass meal. You felt a warmth between your legs, one you hadn’t felt in months. 

You swallowed and cleared your throat after a moment, “Y-Yeah…” You nodded and held out your hand for him.   

The two of you spent the next couple of hours eating churros and going on rides together, like the merry-go-round, carousel, and swings. 

There were small kisses on the cheek, your hand, and head in between rides and glances at each other. You two were getting to know each other more and were genuinely having a good time. 

As the evening went on, you strolled through the game section. You were holding onto his arm and both sharing some cotton candy.

“So you’re tellin’ me that at Stacy Irvin’s party– Amanda was the one to back into my dad’s Mustang and I took the fall for it?” you scoffed and chuckled. “That bitch…” 

Joel chuckled and hummed, taking a bite of the cotton candy, “Richie didn’t tell me ‘til after graduation… if I knew, I would’ve ratted her out.” he looked down at you.

You looked up at him and giggled, “Oh sure you would’ve! All you were concerned with around that time was Scarlett McCoy, not me and my dad’s car!” you teased. 

He shook his head and picked some cotton candy, holding it up for you to take. “If I had the chance with you, I would have taken it back then.” 

You took it from him and blushed, then looked down shyly, “If I’m bein’ honest, I had a thing for you back then too.” You chuckled nervously. 

He gently kissed the top of your head. “I’m a big believer in the ‘right person, wrong time’ idea...” 

You looked up at him and smiled, “You think we just had the timing off back then and it’s good now?” 

He was already looking down at you, “I hope so…” he leaned in and kissed your cheek softly. 

You took a breath in and pursed your lips together. You were beaming as you continued to walk through the grounds with him. 

After a few minutes, you two walked past one of those booths with stuffed animals you could win. 

You briefly eyed the giant teddy bear you could win at one of the shooting games. However, you didn’t say anything as you continued to walk by.

Joel saw the momentary glance and stopped you both from continuing to walk. “You want to try one of these?” he asked, moving to take your hand in his. 

You looked back at him and then at the booth, hesitant to answer. 

Joel kissed your hand and gently pulled you towards the one with the giant teddy bears, “Come on, it’ll be fun!” he smiled. 

You couldn’t help but blush at how he brought you out of your shell with things like this, taking charge but also offering you the option to say no beforehand. 

“Two please…” he handed the staff member a ten-dollar bill, to which they nodded to the fake guns and explained the game briefly. 

Someone came up next to you and cleared their throat, “Two for us as well…” 

It was Will and another guy who competed today, both giving Joel dirty looks.

Joel put his hand on the small of your back and smiled down at you, unbothered by them, “Ready?” 

You could feel the tension between the three of them, and from what you saw earlier today with how Will was speaking to Joel, you wanted to dig that knife a little deeper than it already was. 

You nodded and leaned in, gently kissing his cheek. “Ready, cowboy.” 

You then held the rifle up and aimed. 

Joel smirked at your apparent dig to the other two guys and held up his rifle, waiting for the gamekeeper to count down. 

Will scoffed and shook his head. He clenched his jaw and held the rifle up, aiming as well. 

The gamekeeper counted down, and then, when the bell rang to start, you began shooting at the ducks that were running on a track. 

Joel hit them with ease, racing Will, who was also hitting them with no issue.

You hit as many as you could before the bell rang again and the gamekeeper whistled, “Winner, Winner!” and pointed to Joel. 

You giggled and smiled at him, setting your rifle down. 

Will cursed out of frustration and roughly threw his rifle down, the other guy next to him sighing as well. 

Joel set his rifle down and looked down at you, smiling widely, “Big teddy bear?” he put his hand back on the small of your back, leaning down to kiss your temple.

You nodded and pointed to one with a blue bowtie, “Can I have that one?” 

“Whatever you want, cariño…” he kissed your head softly. 

Will mocked what he said like a child to the other guy. You heard and turned to face them after taking the bear from the game keeper. “God, act your age…” you rolled your eyes. 

Will turned to you and scoffed, “Excuse me?” 

You smirked and tilted your head, “Oh bless your heart… do I need to say it slower for ya, sweetheart?” 

He looked at Joel in disbelief, then looked back at you, “You can’t talk to me that way…” 

You shrugged and took the teddy bear from the game keeper, “Oh, I’m sorry, did I hurt your feelings?” 

Joel snorted out a chuckle and then quickly cleared his throat, not wanting to agitate the situation even more. 

Will stepped forward with his fists clenched, “Are you laughing at me, beaner?” 

Joel instinctively stepped in front of you and put his arm around you from behind, keeping you close, “Ok, look, that’s enough with the slurs today, Montgomery. Come on, just walk away…” 

When you heard the slur, the word cut through the air like a blade—sharp, hateful, and loud. Your chest burned, fist clenching before you even realized it.

Will chuckled coldly and stepped forward once more, “No, I think we just need to settle this, Miller. Here and now…” he took his hat off and set it on the counter where you all just set the game rifles down.

Joel shook his head and kept his arm around you, stepping the two of you back once more, “Will, I’m not going to fight you, man.” he nodded once to tell him to leave. “Just go…” 

You put your hand on Joel’s arm and stood behind him, peeking out, feeling safe behind him. 

Will’s friend put his hand on his arm and cleared his throat, nodding behind Joel at a police officer who was doing security, “Not now…” 

Will inhaled and spit another wad of chewing tobacco towards Joel’s feet and cocked his eyebrow up, “Another time then…” then grabbed his hat, put it back on and tipped it and winked at you. His friend turned him around and the two of them walked away. 

Joel made sure they were gone before turning around and looking you up and down, gently cupping your cheek, “You ok? I didn’t step on you or anythin’, did I?” 

You leaned into his touch and smiled up at him, “I’m good.” you blushed. 

He caressed your cheek with his thumb softly before leaning down and kissing your forehead, “Good.” he moved his hand down to take yours, “Shall we do another game? Maybe we can find one where you can win a goldfish…” he wiggled his eyebrows. 

You chuckled and held tightly onto your bear, “Lead the way…” 

The both of you played a few more games together. He won you a rubber duck, a little slap bracelet and the two of you tied so you both got your pick of little monkey stuffies. 

He told you that he’d run and put everything in his truck so that you wouldn’t have to carry it around for the rest of the night, leaving you to sit at a little bench while he did so. 

You pulled out your phone from your purse and saw a text message from your dad.

‘Randy said you and the Miller boy were gonna be at the fair ‘til late, is that true?’ 

It was about 2 hours ago. You sighed and texted back,

‘I’ll be back late. Don’t wait up.’

Then you put your phone on silent and put it into your purse, looking up at what was around you. You beamed seeing a photobooth across the path and knew exactly what you wanted to do next. 

A few minutes later you saw Joel jogging back your way and stood from the bench, holding out your hand, “I know what we should do next!” 

He chuckled and took your hand, looking down at you, “Lead the way…” 

You giggled as you pulled him excitedly to the photobooth across the path. He opened the curtain and stepped inside, sitting down, keeping ahold of your hand, “It’s gonna a tight squeeze darlin’...” he said noticing how little room there was. 

You smiled and stepped inside, “I can sit on your knee if that’s ok…” 

He bit his lip and adjusted himself to spread his legs a bit more, “Yeah, um– here…” he patted his knee, his cheeks turning pink. 

You bit your lip and couldn’t help but blush at how wide he was now that you were this close and in this tight of a space. 

You sat down at an angle so you were somewhat facing towards him and the camera. He put his arm around the back of you and rested it on your thigh, “This ok?” he asked, looking at where he hand was. 

You nodded and then leaned forward to push the button to start picking what kind of photo design you wanted. There was hearts, western, balloons and a fair one with churros, a ferris wheel and confetti. “Which would you like?” you looked back at him. 

“Why don’t we do two rounds? The western and uhm–” he cleared his throat shyly, “...the hearts?” 

You nodded and looked back at the screen, selecting the western theme first, “We can have some fun with this one…” you sat back and wrapped your arm around his shoulder, “Can I kiss the cowboys cheek for the first one?” you winked when he looked up at you. 

He nodded and bit his bottom lip, “You can do whatever you want sweetheart…” 

You shyly chuckled and pushed the start button which counted down from 5. 

You quickly leaned in and kissed his cheek, putting your hand on his chest. He chuckled which turned into the warmest smile.

Click!

“Shoot– what now?” you looked at him. 

“Uh– oh! Finger guns!” he made a gun with his hand and looked at the camera, trying to make a smoldering face. 

You giggled and followed his lead, doing the same thing. 

Click! 

“What next?” he asked, looking at you. 

You giggled and took his hat off his head, “May I borrow this?” and put it on yours. 

He smirked and fixed his hair by combing his fingers through his hair, “My turn to kiss the cowgirl’s cheek…” then gently cupped your cheek and leaned up to kiss your other cheek, to which you giggled and blushed, creating a genuine smile. 

Click!

You took off the hat and gently put it back on his head, “Any ideas for the last photo?” you tucked your hair behind your ear. 

He smiled as he looked up at you, reaching up to gently cup your cheek, turning your gaze to him, “Trust me?” 

You melted the moment his hand landed on your cheek and swallowed the nerves that suddenly came up in your throat, giving him a small nod. 

He leaned in, whispering. “Can this cowboy kiss you?” 

You met him halfway. “Been waitin’ all day for it to happen…”

Click!

The flash went off as your lips touched his—gentle, slow, just enough pressure to leave you stunned and wondering how you hadn’t kissed him sooner.

You both pulled back at the exact same time, both blinking like deer in headlights. He looked dazed, his cheeks flushed. 

You bit your bottom lip shyly and cleared your throat, “Still want to do the other strip?” 

A warm yet sweet smile stretched across his lips, “Let’s do it…”  

You let out a sweet giggle and bit your bottom lip. You sat up and quickly reached forward to select another strip, the ones with hearts and sat back into his lap. You turned to look down at him and smiled, “Any ideas for this one?”

“I’ve got a few….” He leaned up and kissed you again, this time slower. 

Time stopped then a flash. 

Click!

Just lips on lips, a little bolder, a little deeper, like the two of you had nowhere else to be. 

His hands found your waist. Yours slid up his chest like you’d done it a thousand times. When you broke for air, smiling, another flash.

Click!

He nudged your nose with his gently and then went right back in.

Click!

It was one of those kisses that made the world go soft around the edges. Everything else—noise, time, logic—just faded out. Your lips fit like a secret you’d both been keeping, slow and warm, with just enough hesitation to feel electric. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t practiced. It was instinct meeting timing in the best possible way.

Click!

Eventually, you both pulled back, breathless, smiling like two idiots in love with the moment.

You two just looked at each other—cheeks flushed, hearts pounding, breath tangled in the space between them—and grinned.

The kind you can’t hold back no matter how hard you try. The kind that says yep, that just happened, and I want it to happen again, and we’re in trouble now, all at once.

It wasn’t perfect.

It was better.

The two of you exited the photo booth and each took a strip from the printer, looking over them. 

Joel pulled his phone out of his pocket and put he two side by side, holding them between his fingers before snapping a photo and smiling at his phone, “Best ten bucks I’ve ever spent.” 

You blushed and leaned up to kiss his cheek, “I think the fireworks are gonna start soon… wanna head over to the ferris wheel?” 

He looked down at you for a moment then pulled your lips to his by gently taking you by your chin, kissing you once more, softly but deeply a couple of times before pulling back and breathlessly whispering, “Yeah, let’s head over querida…” then gently took your hand and pulled you with him towards the ferris wheel’s location. 

You couldn’t help the smile that was stretched across your face as the two of your walked hand in hand, both excited for what else he night had in store. 

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[jirsungs]

ep 11: love like the movies

word count: 2.8k (i am SO sorry.)

Walking into the small dimly lit nightclub, you and your friends were immediately blasted by the sudden breeze of the AC. None of you complained though, it was getting hotter in the area and you needed all the air-conditioning you could get. 

But despite the cold air, you could still feel yourself sweating with how anxious you felt. You were dreading to hang out with Jisung alone, not because you hated the guy but because he made you nervous. This time alone with him meant you had to be nervous around him with none of your friends to come to the rescue. 

It was Rockway’s first gig of the week, and it wasn’t long before Haechan invited your whole group to come watch. However, this gig started later than usual because they didn’t start their set until 7 pm, closer to when their performances regularly ended.

As soon as Rockway takes notice of you and your friends’ arrival, Mark and Chenle share a teasing look before Chenle nudges Jisung and signals him to look in your direction.

“Look whose girlfriend just walked inn…” They both sing-song and the younger brushes his friend off, trying his best to remain civil. But of course, inside, he wasn’t, in all honesty, the thought of you being called his like that had his heart swelling and his face heating up. 

He just hoped his friends didn’t notice. Jisung says in a warning tone, pointing at the both of them, “Play it cool, guys. She said we’re just friends, so that’s what we are.” He also hoped his words came out coherent because his brain couldn’t properly process him saying that you’re “just friends.”

For the rest of the time, Mark and Chenle kept their cool, and Rockway’s performance turned out great. They performed four original pieces then ended with two covers. Their opening song was an original piece composed by Mark with the help of lyrics by Haechan and Jeno.  You could say that their gig was pretty successful. 

It was now 8:30 pm and Jaemin and Ningning were currently dragging you to say hi to the guys, or more so, Jisung. Yeonjun and Renjun followed shortly behind, ignoring your pleas to help you get out of your two friends’ grasp.

Jaemin and Ningning stop, still with you in their hold and you turn around to be faced with Jeno and Haechan. Jaemin greets them with a big smile, “Hi, guys! Great performance as usual.” 

“Yeah, Haechan, you killed it… like, wow.” Ning admires.

The bright singer replies with a flattered chuckle, “Aw, shucks. This performance wasn’t my best.”

His attempt to be humble only gets replied with Jeno smacking him on the arm, “Shut up, just take the compliment.” 

Haechan’s pained wince makes you three laugh. Not long after, you’re freed from Ning and Jaemin, and Yeonjun and Renjun catch up, joining your conversation with the two band members. 

Renjun’s concentration on the conversation didn’t last long because, in his peripheral, he noticed Mark and Chenle pushing Jisung toward your group, which the younger continued to protest without making it obvious that he was nervous to go up to you.

But of course, Mark and Chenle couldn’t let that happen. Mark rests his arm around Haechan’s neck while Chenle squeezes himself and Jisung in next to Jeno, “Hey guys, what’re y’all talking about?”

You focus on Jisung as he stands there next to Chenle and avoids all contact with you. He’s dressed in a baggy black hoodie with a black and yellow flannel buttoned on top of it and of course, it wouldn’t be him if he didn’t pair his outfit with baggy black pants. 

You seriously wonder how someone can wear such dark clothing in the summer. You still had to fan yourself even with the outfit you were wearing. A tank top and a skirt, and here he was, not sweating in the slightest. 

Before your friends can indulge themselves in their conversation again, they acknowledge the awkward tension that’s floating above you and Jisung. That’s when they take matters into their own hands. Ning pushes you closer while Jeno and Chenle do the same. 

And that’s how you end up almost pushed against his chest, his eyes finally meeting yours. Well, kinda… even with your shoes slightly making you taller, you still need to look up at him. 

“Um, hi.” Jisung sheepishly says, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. 

You should’ve found his action funny because it feels like something you’d see out of a cheesy romcom, but you don’t. Instead, it makes you smile, “Hi.” 

The situation almost feels unrealistic. You’re both centered between your friend groups as they try to play cupid. The rest of the nightclub around you stays chatty and dimly lit, though you can still see his features. Fireworks or some stupid love song should be playing right now. Seriously, something should break this before Jisung succeeds in having you fall too deep into it. 

Then, Yeonjun gags in disgust, “Get a room!”

Oh, thank God for Choi Yeonjun. 

As if on cue, all of your friends immediately shooed you away to hang out on your own after that. The mixed laughs and exclaims “Get her home safe, Ji!” and “Use protection!” from your friends as you walk towards the exit of the nightclub got quieter and had you both embarrassed. And then it was just the two of you.

“Shall we?” Jisung asks, holding the door open for you. You smile at the nice gesture before walking through and saying a small “thank you.”

You begin to walk down the sidewalk, keeping the same pace with no more words said. The quiet finally disappears when Jisung chooses to speak up, “Uh, Y/N, are you cold?”

“What? No, of course not.” Yes. Yes, you were. You don’t even know why you’re trying to hide it when he can clearly see you trying to warm up your arms with your hands.

He doesn’t give you time to say another lie when he’s already removing his flannel from his body which he hands to you to take before he takes off his black hoodie. He doesn’t say anything as he switches the clothing out of your hand to give you the black hoodie. You’re not allowed to say anything about it again because he slips his flannel back on. 

You watch him, staying quiet, and Jisung lets out a nervous laugh, “What? I wasn’t gonna let you freeze to death. The hoodie’s warmer than the flannel.”

You finally protest, “But—This is yours, I simply can’t take it—I mean—” 

Why are you stuttering? Stop that!

Jisung notices and calms you down before your ramble continues, “Y/N, I seriously don’t mind. Just wear it, it’s nothing to feel bad about, okay?”

Another objection lies on the tip of your tongue, but you hold it and mutter a pouty “Okay.” and slip on his hoodie. 

He smiles when you finally allow it. “Good.”

Hanging out with him wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. As soon as you paid for your dinner at the local food street stands, you found out he’s surprisingly a talker when the question about his favorite food places around town came up, or why and how he wears such big clothing during the hottest season of the year, or simple questions like what his favorite video game is. He didn’t like the thought of him being the only one talking the whole night so once he was done answering your questions, he’d immediately turn back to you and ask for your input. You appreciated it.

Since it was obvious that both of you didn’t want this night to end after you finished your dinner, Jisung’s earlier suggestion of stargazing at a nearby park sparked your interest again. And that’s how you ended up walking on the dark green grass, following Jisung as he tried to look for a good empty spot. 

Once he found a free spot, he removed his flannel and carefully placed it on the ground for you to avoid getting grass on your skirt. He waits for you expectedly, wearing a cute smile on his face, but you only raise your brows at him. “What? The girl needs a proper seat.”

“You’re so cheesy, Park Jisung, you know that?” He doesn’t take your comment to heart when he sees you giggling. 

He joins you on the grass and your conversation continues right where you left it. At some moments, Jisung points out the different stars in the sky and gives you short information on them. You didn’t find yourself hating it though. Sometime after, you both sat quietly, simply enjoying each other’s company as you watched the night sky. 

Jisung liked that you didn’t despise the quiet. Even though you both can talk for so long, you can appreciate the calm atmosphere as well. And knowing how he is, he doesn’t mind the silence, instead, he loves it and the fact that you like it too makes him happy.

He looks over at you and quietly examines your features as you watch the sky in awe. Your upper body is covered by his hoodie and your legs are locked against your chest, and he thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever laid his eyes on. Fuck, he really is cheesy. His mind begins to have a mental battle with itself on how to make this better with you, leading him to focus on something else other than your face before you notice him staring. But then, the idea hit him.

“Do you wanna listen to music?” He asks, motioning you to look at him and then at his left earphone wire that he was offering you.

“Sure.” You accept it before putting it into your ear.

He unlocks his phone and hands it to you, “Play a song, let’s see how different our music tastes are.”

“Okay. Let’s see.” You open the Spotify app and start typing the song title, Jisung acknowledges how you stick your tongue out to the side of your mouth when focusing. She’s cute, he thinks.

The song pops up and you let out an “Ah, there you go!”. Once you press on the song, Like the Movies by Laufey, it begins to play, leading you to turn off Jisung’s phone and bring your focus back to the sky.

You turn your body towards him in shock when you hear him humming the melody, “I never expected you to be a Laufey fan.”

In the corner of his eye, he notices you looking at him and he can immediately feel his body radiate heat. He plays it cool, his lips making a pfft sound before making eye contact with you, “I’m not. She’s an amazing artist, and I like some songs but I only know her ‘cause Chenle’s a big fan.” 

You challenge him with a raise of your eyebrow, “Oh yeah? Then what artists are you into?” 

Suddenly Jisung’s mouth feels dry and his brain turns to mush. Jesus, Jisung. It’s just a simple question. Why are you getting shy now? He mentally scolds himself.

He opens his mouth, thinking words would come out of it, but closes it right after. You giggle at him. Instead of giving a verbal answer, he opens his phone to the Spotify app and scrolls through his playlist until he finds the song. He doesn’t say anything after that, letting you focus on the opening of the song playing in your right ear. But the first verse’s familiarity to you has you figuring out what song it is. 

It makes you laugh, “Really? 1D? Now that’s unexpected.”

He joins in on your laughter then answers in defense, “Oh come on, Story of My Life is nostalgic. I don’t know what it is about it, the song just makes me feel nice.”

“Aww, was little Jisung a 1D fan?”

“Okay, ha ha,” Something about teasing him so naturally made you feel safe, but before the scary thought could overcome you, Jisung continued, “We’re actually called Directioners, thank you very much.”

You gently push him with your body as you snicker, “Like that’s any better.” 

The both of you go back and forth showing each other songs, Jisung even introduces you to Oasis, one of his favorite rock bands, and the reason behind his agreement to join Rockway. One of your top love languages was music bonding, and it seemed that it was his too. Tonight felt too good to be true. You felt like a princess knowing that time was ticking and this moment between the two of you wasn’t going to last long. 

Because of course, every perfect night has to end eventually. 

After Jisung’s queued song, Bruno Mars’ Natalie, ends, the realization of the time hits him. “Oh shit, it’s already 11 pm. I am so sorry I kept you out this late—”

You cut him off, “Ji, you’re good. I didn’t realize the time either.”

He’s about to continue his apology ramble but his ears perk up at the new nickname. “Wait. Wh-what did you call me?” He didn’t mean to talk over his words, it just happened cause what the hell? Is he already at the “Ji” stage? 

You stay oblivious to his reaction, “Ji? It’s okay that I call you that, right? I always hear your friends call you that so I thought—”

“Yes! I mean–yes, you can totally call me that.” He hopes he covered how bad he’s blushing right now, but he’s 90% positive that it worked because you’re laughing. 

Your giddy mood doesn’t go away when he offers you his hand to help you up and it continues not to because now, he’s walking you to your apartment after his multiple pleas to walk you home and his scenarios of what could happen to you and how he couldn’t live with himself if one of those situations did happen to you. You hate that it’s hard to say no to him.

You expect him to say goodnight once you reach your apartment complex, but he continues to insist on staying by your side. And when you try to object, he replies with, “What if you get kidnapped on the way to your apartment?”

Not gonna lie, that shouldn’t have convinced you that easily. But that was because you didn’t want him to leave you in the first place, you only put up a fight because your fear of occupying him with this when he could be busy doing other things worried you more. 

The both of you stop at your apartment door where awkward silence hangs in the air until you remember that you were still wearing his hoodie. You’re about to take it off but he stops you. 

“Keep it. I saw how bad you were shivering earlier, I fear you need it more than I do.”

Your heart flutters at his offer despite the guilt you feel for taking his hoodie. You still ended up taking it though. It was warm, comfy, and smelled like him, it was a mixture of flowery laundry detergent and his cologne. You appreciated that he didn’t wear any overbearing or overpowering scents but it was one of those where you can easily detect where it’s coming from. 

The awkward silence bothers you both again, that is until you break it once more.

“This was fun… I, uh, enjoyed it a lot.” 

The way you’re obviously using your fingers as an excuse to not make eye contact with him has him shyly smiling down at you. “Yeah, me too. You make a very good yapping partner.”

You burst into a fit of laughs at his use of yapping and gently slapped his arm, “Oh my God, I cannot believe you just said that.”

“Hey, it made you laugh. I think that’s what matters.”

Somehow, the once awkward silence wasn’t so awkward anymore. This felt comfortable and natural, but a little bit too natural. You can’t handle it. Your fear urges you to shut him out and escape back to your shell, but because you don’t want to ruin this night for the both of you, you dismiss it. 

“Well, um, I should head inside.”

Jisung nods, his expected disappointment lingering as he knew the night had to end, even though he didn’t want it to. He gives you a small smile, “Alright. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Jisung.” 

He watches you walk inside and close the door, making the coast clear for him to put his hand into a fist and pull his arm towards his chest as he excitedly cheers “Yes!” under his breath. When he turns around to check if your door is closed, he’s already five feet down the hall but stops when he hears the door open and your voice once again.

“Hey, Jisung?”

He turns around, “Yeah?”

“Thank you for tonight.” 

Your smile is enough for his heart to do literal somersaults in his chest.

He can’t help but smile back, “Anytime.”

Luckily, you both say goodnight before you can notice the blush on his face.

previous ☆ masterlist ☆ next

note: this chapter is HEAVILY inspired by the songs: laufey's like the movies, one direction's 18 and story of my life, & heeseung's cover of this is what falling in love feels like (they were on repeat when i was writing this) but RAHHH, fav chapter idc idc. i hope you guys like it<3 esp because things slowly get sad from here... </3

🎫: @idkwhatursayinh @sunghoonsgfreal @multifandomania @nanaxwi @odxrilove @sourrpatched @hancafe @chaellaa @dojaejunging @jising-jisang-jisung @heheheeral @haechansbbg @renjunsversion @seunghancore @woshixinqgiu @jiiieun @pinknjm @mrshwang-park @neozon3nha @joyzluvr @aerivrs @nosungluv

[asahisbunny]

—𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬

╰┈➤ just put the fries in the bag..

♫ .. “🍀 asahi azumane x fem! reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; After two years MIA, you come back to the Miyagi prefect, ready to resume your studies at Karasuno High. While some people are rather joyous about your homecoming, some are....cautious

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠!; swearing, slight teasing..thas it!

media; mixed | wc; 0.8k

m.list | previous | next ep.| back to home page!!

After settling in the day before, the house looked like hell, moving boxes littered in almost every corner, and the ones that didn't have them had takeout boxes in them.

You walked your way to the full mirror in your room, looking briefly at your old uniform— it's been way too long.

The vest shrank a bit at the dryers, so it was almost impossible to button up, so it was left that way. No harm, no foul.

Your mother, on the other hand, had to cut down the horrible hemming you did to the skirt in your first year, trying to look more tough by showing more skin. Wannabe gangster era was something for sure

You couldn't find the red bow for the life of you, I mean, you looked everywhere. From your old backpack to your old pencil case. Growing so frustrated over the piece of fabric, you could almost cry.. until you remember.

The day before your last day of school, you had set it on fire by accident, the reason why was beyond you. A part of you didn't even want to remember.

After grabbing the nearest protein bar and bolting out of your front door, you grabbed your bike and rode at such a pace that they would have to come up with a word to replace ‘horsepower’.

Nearing the school, you saw two boys with uniforms that matched the Karasuno colors.

Volleyball uniforms.

They were throwing the ball as they walked. Pretty big safety hazard, to be honest, but they were having fun.

once your bicycle was parked in front of the school, you noticed how the school had changed, not by much, yet it was still noticeable. The entrance had changed color, and the old man that used to whistle once hus watch stroke 8:00 was replaced by a much younger guy.

The green area had gotten smaller thanks to the expansion of the gym.

You could hear the faint whistling coming from the building and the squeaking of sports shoes running around the annoying floors. Before you knew it, your feet had driven yourself to the very entrance of the gym.

Once you noticed, you tried to go back, yet once you saw that speck of white hair poking its way out of the storage room, you sprinted there

“KOCHI” you let out a squeal-like yell at the top of your lungs, jumping the poor third year, making him yell.

“THE FU- IT’S YOU!” his face of terror was quickly transformed into one of glee

To say he missed you was an understatement. You had known him since diapers, and both your families were so close both houses almost moved next to the other.

“It wasn't a hallucination. I'm so glad” He spoke, almost in disbelief

“Oh please, you couldn't have missed me that much” you eyes roll back sarcastically, not noticing the faint expression of worry that flashes on his face

“I'm finding all the strength in me not to scream at you right now”

“Blehh” is all you respond, pulling at the skin under your eye.

“You want to see the others?” he asked, pointing back at the court, where many underclassmen were coming in, where you saw the two that were playing on the way here. You were about to oblige when suddenly you see Daichi and Asahi walk in next to a blonde guy with glasses.

Talking with them over text was one thing, face to face was another.

“Nah, I'll come by later, gotta go get my schedule. Catch you guys late though”

Before he can say anything, you are already running out of the gym

As you ran back from the gym, your mind went back to that fateful day, not just any flashing moment No.

One that To this day, it haunts you the most. The person who had always held such pride in calling you his friend, the one who always shouted how proud he was from the stands. Was staring down at you, disappointment nearing disgust.

You felt your stomach churn at the resurfaced memory that you didn't even notice the person walking in front of you. Basically, pushing the poor boy down, you felt like a piece of shit

“I'm so sorry, I didn't see you” you apologize almost immediately

“You got nothin’ to worry abou- HOLYY” You could've sworn his pupils had turned into hearts

“You must be new because I would remember a face like yours” he spoke in awe

he was cute, yet short. Even with the spiky hair helping him, although you did have a thing for dyed Hair… Decisions Decisions

“Don't get any ideas, Lover Boy, but thanks”

He deflated in real time, and you could only suppress a cackle

“If you change your mind you can always find me at practice” He offered with a big smile, that you almost found alluring.

Yet luscious hair called out to you.

a/n: i didn't expect this to get so much attention in two days, im so happy people are enjoying it. Just a small thingy, my English is not the best, but I'm trying to fix as many grammatical errors as I go. As always, any feedback helps a TON and is very appreciated. If anyone would like me to start a taglist, just let me know!♡

#๋ ࣭ ⭑🪷

©𝐀𝐒𝐀𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐁𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐘, 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍...𝐁𝐄 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐅𝐅𝐒

[authorbriannarae13]

Mind of Mine // we can do this shit forever if it's lust - joel miller

Joel Miller x female! reader

read part one here. or on AO3 here.

summary; "Fuck. You wear that for me?"

When Joel comes home covered in blood, you ask him about it. Instead, he gives you too many orgasms to count while making you beg. for every last one. or this is what is written at my horniest during ovulation and listening to 'LUST' off the 'DON'T TRY THIS' ep on repeat. for twelve hours.

also, all of my fics will have songs and i'm not sorry about it.

oh, and; you can't unconvince me that he's a pleasure dom.

warnings; smut (MDNI); dom!joel; mostly soft!joel; actually all soft!joel; begging; overstimulation; toys; some edging; sparing degradation (whore and slut are both used once.)

word count; 1.3k

-

A week later, you watch – concerned as hell – as Joel walks through the door completely covered in blood.

“Baby,” you murmur loud enough so he can hear you, “what happened?”

He looks at you. Sighs. “It was nothing.”

“Nothing,” you repeat, the concern morphing into confusion – or shock, you can’t tell. “You call being covered in blood nothing?”

“It’s nothin’ you should be worryin’ about. Been settled.”

You pause, taking his words in, “Sett-“ You cut yourself off, deciding to drop it. For now. “Fine. Tell me the full story later then.”

Letting out a low grunt in response, he holds out his hand for you.

You scoff. “I’m not doing anything with you until you wash the blood off.”

“Is that so?” As soon as his eyebrow cocks, you swallow.

Oh fuck. You’re in trouble with a capital T.

That damn smirk rears its smug head as the realization dawns on your face. “Yea, I’d rethink that statement if I w’re you, darlin’.”

“I’m not taking anything back.”

“’U’ll be rethinkin’ that one real soon.” With that, he hauls you up by your hand. “C’mon.”

Slowly, you follow suit while starting to regret ever trying.

At the same time, you realize something: Joel will always be the same stubborn ass Joel you married.

Great.

He leads you to the bedroom, setting you to the bed before you realize what he’s going to do.

“Oh, God,” you mutter, more to yourself than anything. But of course, he has to hear it.

“He ain’t here, y’know. It’s just you and me, sweetheart.”

You slightly huff as he answers you.

“You only did this to yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Keep runnin’ that smartass mouth of yours and you won’t be walkin’ tomorrow.”

“I’d love to see you try.”

“Oh, I think we’re both well aware of what I’m capable of.”

That finally shuts you up. And as soon as you do, it’s in his hand.

He grabbed the vibrator you kept meaning to get rid of. Eventually, you gave up and forgot – even though you knew you would never need it again.

Fuck.

He slowly looks up, taking in your expression. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“N-no,” you rush out, still focused on the vibrator in his hand.

He quirks a brow and hums. “Take it all off.”

You notice him motion down your body before you can even think to pose a question.

Oh.

Before you can second guess yourself, you pull up on the worn-out Miller Construction t-shirt, dragging it up, and – eventually – letting it fall to the floor. Since you ditched your pants and bra – because fuck that – as  soon as you changed, he can see just about everything.

But since you live to be a tease, it will never be that easy.

“Hurry.” His voice deepens – almost like he’s trying to control himself. And the precious self-control is starting to waver.

As the black lace of your underwear is noticed, he groans, the sound low and reverberating off the walls.

“Fuck. You wear that for me?”

You roll your eyes. “What do you think?”

“Don’t matter what I think. So, did ya?”

“Maybe I did. You’ll never know.”

He walks towards you, pushing you back onto the bed as he brings the silk rope – you failed to notice – out of his pocket, tying your wrists together, and securing them to the headboard.

Oh fuck.

“If you want to be a dirty girl, I’ll enjoy treatin’ ya like one.”

You smirk. “Bring it.”

Instead of dignifying you with another answer, his fingers reach out to grab your chin before letting go and trailing down to your underwear, sliding them down your legs – since he didn’t let you get that far.

And he never will. Since, despite the façade, his self-control is nonexistent. But only with you.

No one else gets the benefit.

After they’re off you and haphazardly discarded, he nudges your legs open. “C’mon, open up for me.”

Instinctively, they fall open, giving him access, and he lightly presses the vibrator to your clit. “You’re g’nna beg me real good, sugar.”

A moan is the only response you let out as he turns it on, lighting your nerve endings on fire.

Your hips slowly grind into it, following as the vibrations slowly start to get more intense.

“Fuck, fuckin’ fuck,” seem to be the only words that can leave your mouth as the orgasm builds.

“Look at what a mess you are, sweetheart.”

“Mmm,” is the only hum you can let out as his words barely reach your blissed out brain.

“Beg for it. Beg me to cum,” is the last thing you hear before he’s pulling it away. “Beg me.”

“Fuck,” you cry out before adding, “Please.”

He smirks, pressing it back against you. “Since you asked so nicely.”

The orgasm is all consuming, making your legs shake and back arch as he continues holding it there. “F-fuck.”

Your hips try to escape the torture, but he holds them in place. “Don’t even fuckin’ think about it.”

Your whine is lost in your throat as another orgasm builds. As sensitive as your cunt is, your brain hasn’t realized it needs to stop.

As your second orgasm builds faster and faster, the white-hot pleasure licking at all your nerve endings and their receptors. “Fuck. Please, please, please,” you chant as it threatens to explode.

“Cum for me.” As the waves cascade over you, he praises you, “Such a good fuckin’ girl for me.”

Everything’s so much more sensitive, so you try to buck him off again. “I can’t. I can’t- “

“Yes, you can,” he slowly soothes, trying to keep your hips in place. “Give me two more, darlin’.”

A sighed “Fuck,” is the response he gets back.

“Atta girl,” he praises as you try to relax, attempting to go as blissed out and boneless as possible again.

The waves of your third wash over you as violently as your second ones leave. And shockingly enough, he doesn’t make you beg this time.

“Good girl. You’re so fuckin’ perfect f’r me, sugar.”

You moan as the praise settles in your chest, your abs forcefully contracting as you continue to fight – and grind against – the vibrations hitting your clit.

“Fuck me,” you beg. “Let me cum on your cock.”

“Not a chance. This is all about you, babe.”

You start to whine, but it turns into a moan as he turns it up, making your legs tremble as your – hopefully – last orgasm in a row takes its sweet time to build.

Despite just how sensitive and heightened your senses are, it doesn’t stop your cunt from following the pleasure.

You start slower than usual, trying to savor the pressure forming in your abdomen – and spine, for that matter – as it coils and coils and fucking coils.

His hands trail down your body and between your thighs before his index and middle fingers are thrust into you. “Goddamn. You’re such a good fuckin’ slut for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you repeat as the coil slowly starts to unravel as his fingers move.

Joel groans, “Your cunt swallows my fingers like my favorite whore.”

That’s your official undoing. Your back arches until it’s almost painful while your toes curl and fists grip the sheets for dear life.

He keeps the vibrator there until you come back to the land of the living from your blissed out headspace.

“’S a good fuckin’ girl, sugar. You’re so good f’r me.”

By the time he pulls the vibe away, unties your wrists, and starts to softly massage the skin, you’ve barely come back down enough to remember he’s covered in blood. “How,” you start, your brain hazy as hell and struggling to form sentences, “How did you end up covered in blood?”

He sighs like he did when you asked earlier. “They threaten’d you.” Then, a smirk covers his face. “And we both know how well I respond when you’re at risk, pretty girl.”

You grimace, remembering how he beat the fuck out of the last guy you remember fucking with you, so you ask the dreaded question, “Are they dead?”

“Do you want them to be?”

“Joel!”

“They’re not dead, sweetheart, but they’ll think again before fuckin’ with what’s rightfully mine ever again.”

You roll your eyes. “You’ll forever be impossible, won’t you?”

“Only for you, baby.”

“At least I know I’m protected,” you tease.

“You better believe it.”

[a-sad-mage]

In the current HC posts I've made about the Shane Gang, and just Slugterra in general cuz brain rot, I've kept a running gag of sorts.

That's being everyone but Eli, punching Will Shane, Eli's father, regardless of their own perception of the man.

And I'm here to defend my stance like the mediocre comedian I am-

So

At the start of the series, everyone and their grandmother is shocked to learn Will Shane had a son. Though some seem to just accept it as fact because "Shane's and their secrets haha"

And, holy fuck, ever noticed how whenever Eli talked about his dad, he sorta clams up a bit? Like he gets visibly sad, and immediately shakes it off and is back to happy-go-lucky?

Like, it's fairly obvious he hasn't talked much about his dad since the letter. Since you know, everyone assumed Will died, and Blakk possibly murdered him given the whole rumor about Blakk having been the last person to see Will alive.

I'm re-watching the show rn, and I'm on the Eastern Caverns Arc and in one EP Kord brings up the Gang heading back to the Western Caverns to find Eli's dad because, yeah they did what they promised Junjie, help him get home and even take down the Emperor. And Eli visibly gets sad and more or less says his dad can wait, the Eastern Caverns still need help and so done Junjie by proxy.

Eli basically said, his dad can wait-

Im rambling, so moving on-

Eli, up until A Distant Shore, is probably an emotional wreck?

Think about it, his dad probably died when he was like 10 or something, had to most likely distance himself from people like right after in prep for the Drop, his mom left him at his great Uncle's and he has not seen her since, first two days in Slugterra and he's started beefing with a fifty something year old man who probably murdered his dad, learned Will wasn't exactly all that good of a person(see Tom Por), the whole Twist situation, and like, basically everything he has had to deal with.

Had it not been for Pronto, Trixie or Kord, Eli would have crumbled under pressure or straight up died.

And in A Distant Shore, the Gang notes how erratic he's acting about Gar and the Burning World?

Like Trixie is fully ready to slap Eli because, holy fudge man, get a grip your acting weirder than normal. Only for Eli to drop the biggest secret, ever like an hour later.

And with that secret out in the open, Eli starts opening up more.

And the gang slowly come to the conclusion that while yes, Will Shane was a hero, he made choices, and some of those choices negativity effect Eli even if they shouldn't have. And that being a 'Shane' is not as glamorous as they thought it would be.

They were aware of the pressure being a Shane came with. They live with Eli, they are a part of the Shane Gang, they see, live, and experience the hardships Eli faces as well. And are aware just how screwed Eli, let alone anyone in the young Shane's position would be in, with all the secrets, the ones they know, and the ones they have to find out and possibly stumble into even if they don't wana know.

That is a type of pressure, and responsibility no one, especially a 15 year old kid should have to be burden with.

And while it wasn't Will's intention, unfortunately the stuff he, as the 'Protector of Slugterra', left a mess Eli would have to try and clean up.

And this isn't covering the fact the problems previous Shane's left to the next generation to fix for one reason or another.

hence, everyone in the Gang wanting to deck Will in the face, because while, technically it wasn't Will's fault, it doesn't change the fact Will actively kept secrets from his son that could have helped him in the possibility of Will not being there to guide Eli. Will knew things were going south, to some extent, and he didn't leave many, if no hits at all, or something that could have made the transition easy.

Like idk bro, could have left a cryptic note or something about some people who have it out for your family or something instead of letting your teenage son walk into a hornets nest more or less blind and with a stick?

And yes, I fully understand plots, narrative, and other writing things.

Will Shane might as well be the biggest Chekhov's Gun in the series because everything somehow links back to him more so than any other Shane before Eli. With the only cannon thing that doesn't i can think of is Jimmo's journal, but as previous ranted about, Will was the one who probably lost it, as Will was the Shane that came after Jimmo(im still mad about that lol). And even if Will didn't, man's didn't think to make sure it was stashed somewhere it wouldn't be found or some shit.

[Obviously not including anything happening in the Eastern Caverns]

Look, Eli's dad is in no way perfect, and the show did, at least i think, a damn good job expressing that, through how Eli and others talk about him. The man, clearly loved his son, and did try to protect him from a lot of things and had things been different, would have been there for his son for as long as he could till Eli could stand on his own, and even then still be there to support him.

That doesn't mean Will Shane is exempted from judgment, from freaking anyone.

And anyone who has spent time to actually get to know Eli could see just how much everything has affected him. He should not be in the life or death situations he's been in, not yet, not without more than some natural skills and good luck.

as for everyone else?

I mean, come on. Will Shane made a fair few enemies, and safe to say not everyone liked the guy. That much is blatantly stated, so clearly, there would be a number of people that would love to just, deck the guy in the face.

Yeah, so tldr: my permanent HC that transcends all my Slugterra Au's and work is that Will Shane has a long list of people who want to beat him up.

[zukosdualdao]

(forgive the somewhat poor quality screenshots, especially on that third one. wifi is still out at my place post-storm so i took these from youtube and am writing from my phone. alas, alack.)

this is one of my favorite blink-and-you’ll-miss-it facial expression moments in atla. the animators 100% did not have to include this reaction shot of katara, sokka, and suki watching zuko rise back up on one of the war blimps and face off with azula, but i’m really glad they did. i also love the differences in their reactions.

suki’s is the most straightforward to me. she and sokka share similar posture, both of them leaning forward slightly and bracing an arm against appa’s saddle to support themselves. but suki looks almost disdainful, with her eyes narrowed and brow heavily quirked and sort of defiant. i think she’s a lot more focused on the azula of it all, since azula captured her and just last episode she was saying how “this is a rematch [she’s] been waiting for.”

sokka shares suki’s posture but katara’s wide eyes here. his mouth isn’t agape, but it is parted, suggesting in this context some amount of surprise or worry. though they’re all waiting to see what happens, there’s more of an air of… excitement isn’t the right word, because i do think he’s concerned, but anticipation, maybe, of the fight that’s about to come. he fought azula with zuko last ep, after all, and though i do think he’s worried for zuko here, i also get the sense that he has a lot of belief in zuko’s ability to fight her off at this point.

katara’s definitely registering the most shock, with her wide eyes, mouth open in surprise, and raised eyebrows. the most notable thing about this, of course, is that she was only minutes ago deriding zuko for pushing her out of the way of falling rocks, and now her expression actually suggests a lot of concern for him, which is reinforced by her pulling him onto appa’s saddle once he and azula fall. i keep wondering what exactly she’s so shocked about, though. at first i thought it was because they saw him fall and were surprised along with azula to see him alive and still ready to fight—but they were getting everyone onto appa and trying to figure out how to flee, so i’m not sure they would have seen. aang did seem very concerned when zuko told them to go on without him, so it’s possible they weren’t really expecting him to survive in general, even without seeing him fall. (which, fair. facing off against his set-on-murdering him sister alone does not seem conducive to zuko surviving.) but i also wonder if it has something to do with seeing zuko fight azula on their behalf considering the contrast it makes to his siding with azula in tcod. there, he chose azula’s side and katara felt betrayed, which is why she hasn’t been able to forgive him even as he proves he’s on their side. but here, he’s risking his own life to protect them, and while he’s done that before with combustion man, i think this is the first time katara is able to consciously acknowledge to herself that it’s not really about trust anymore. (but later, that only makes her angrier, because she’s still hurt, even though she knows he’s on their side, because she connected with him and wanted to trust him all the way back in tcod.)