#I already tagged several people for something I’m not gonna do it again in the same day lmao

[i-only-came-here-for-my-fandoms]

Hey I found a picrew :]

Feel free to tag people you want to join and make a bean! Here’s the one I made

[sincerelyneo]

omg hello! i missed you so much!!! 💖 would you consider reposting arcade again?? it was legit the best thing i’ve ever read omg i was so sad when i couldnt find it anymore

its fine if you cant tho!! im glad youre backkkk💖💖💖

ofc i can, i’m glad you liked it <3

arcade | p.js

“i’m out of control, full power up”

💿now playing: arcade by nct dream

❯ summary: Jisung’s been nothing but busy lately, so when you hear he got the weekend of your anniversary off, you can’t help but plan something to spend time with him. Expect, the only thing jisung wants after his busy month is you — and he’s not gonna let your silly arcade date get in the way of that.

❯ pairings: jisung x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, smut, fluffish.

❯ words: 3.5k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, fingering, exhibitionism, reader uses she/her pronouns, use of the name baby, jisung takes pictures whilst fingering reader in a photobooth idk???

"You brought us to an arcade for our three year anniversary?"

You look over to Jisung standing by your side as the pair of you stood in front of the arcade entryway with the giant neon sign above your heads.

"Yeah, surprise - who doesn't love a date night with pizza and an arcade?" You grin, trying to hide the look of nervousness fighting to show once you notice his frown.

“Baby,” he groans, whiny, “I thought we were gonna go home after the pizza.”

You may have lied to him about that.

When you told Jisung about tonight’s date, he originally objected. He wanted to have a chilled night in with just the two of you — alone. Something he hadn’t had for the past four weeks he’d been strung up at work. Yet, you insisted that the two of you celebrated your three year anniversary just like you had done for your first and second.

So instead, the two of you came up with a compromise: head to your favourite pizza place, then come home and watch a movie snuggled together on the couch. In Jisung’s mind ‘watch a movie’ was code for letting his hands roam all over your body whilst he watched you whither and squirm, but he figured it was best to not discuss the minute details.

But don’t get him wrong. Just because he wanted to have a quiet night in didn't mean he hasn’t missed you — because oh he has. He’s only bothered the rest of the dreamies with his annual ‘I miss her’ speech every other hour.

And whilst typically Jisung loved to spend every passing minute of the day with you; right now, all he could think about was how much he wanted to be balls deep in the cunt he’d missed so much — not spending his time in some arcade.

"I haven't been inside one of these since I was a little kid," you tell him. “Please Sungie, just for an hour.” You begin tugging on his hands.

“I don’t know, Y/N. Aren’t we a bit too old to be playing in the arcade?” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Pretty please!”

You hope the small flutter in your eyelashes is enough to win over the hesitant man. And you know it will because he’s told you several times not to give him those signature doe eyes, because he can’t ever bring himself to say no to them.

"Fine."

He grasps your hand, threading your fingers together as he starts to lead the two of you inside. You're instantly greeted with the loud electronic sound effects from the various games, along with the random music playing inside.

There's lights flashing everywhere, and you notice a bunch of people sitting at the bar and in booths near the front of the arcade, along with a bunch wandering around all of the games.

Jisung looks sideways before gesturing his head to the row of retro games, "what do you wanna play?" He asks.

“You can pick first, because I’m such a good girlfriend.”

He can’t help but smile at you — because he knows you're right.

“How about we play some pinball?

"I take it back," you say with a pointed look, "I’ve seen you play that with Chenle and I’m definitely gonna lose.”

“Too late, you’ve already given me the power,” he shrugs and pulls your arm over to where the game is situated.

“Ugh, Jisung. There’s no point, I already know I’m gonna lose,” you try to protest.

“Stop complaining,” he grasps your hips to turn you around to face the pinball machine then comes to stand behind you.

He takes your hands and places them on the buttons either side of the machine in front of you. You feel your cheeks flush when you feel Jisung’s chin rest on your shoulder, as he guides your fingers over the controls and silently coaches you through the game.

You don’t know how he always does it but even here, he's managing to create some form of sexual tension between the two of you at a pinball machine.

“Jisung..” you whisper as he places teasing kisses along your neck.

“Shhh, I’m just trying to help you out,” his lips brush against your neck as he continues hitting the buttons at a constant steady speed. “Besides, I think I’ve found my new favourite way to play pinball tonight."

Eventually, the ball shoots straight down between the two flippers, drawing the game to an end. He’d been doing so well that you wanted to turn around and kiss him but he pressed you harder against the machine, dipping into the crook of your neck to tease your ear.

"You've got no idea how badly I wish I could bend you over this and fuck you right here, right now."

It sent shivers down your whole body as you felt him grin against your skin when he noticed the sharp inhale of air you sucked in at his words.

Jisung knows you're shy, so he’s not surprised that you try to snake away from his grip at his crude remark.

"Look, we got a new high score," he says while he slips his hands from over yours and slides them up your arms. Pretending he didn't just whisper something that dirty. “We make a pretty good team.”

“Yeah ‘cause you did all the work,” you sulk.

You see the red digital writing flashing on the scoreboard, then his arms snake around to link across your lower stomach and pull you firmer against him. To anyone watching you look like a typical couple being affectionate, but the tension makes it feel the furthest thing from innocent.

"You know exactly what you're doing right now, Jisung Park," you huff, trying to control how flustered you feel, "We’re here to play games."

He presses a kiss to your cheek, before murmuring, "I am playing games. And so far I think I'm winning."

As he speaks he lets one of his hands slip down to graze over the front of your crotch, which he swears is an accident when you sternly say his name. But you can’t deny the way the touch made you jolt before he pulls away and steps back. You’d missed his touch — missed being with him like this.

But this was not the place. So you take his hand and turn the two of you to walk off like nothing happened.

The two of you continued to play a handful of arcade games. The classics, retro games, new games — Jisung had even managed to secure you a fluffy teddy bear from the claw game after you mentioned it being ‘impossible’.

You’d been taking it in turns to choose a game each, but when you mentioned the arcade photo booth, your boyfriend had started to get apprehensive.

After some of your amazing buttering up skills with puppy dog eyes, he agreed and he pulled the curtain back for you to get inside, then closes the door on the booth.

He sat down first on the small seat, and when you went to sit next to him he grabbed your waist and pulled you down onto his lap instead. He takes some coins from his pocket and starts putting them in the slot.

You try to get off his lap to sit beside him before the timer starts but he doesn’t let you.

“Just look at the camera and smile."

Once you hear the timer counting down the two of you start posing. But just before the last beep sounds, you get the idea to grab hold of Jisung’s face and let your lips mush against his cheek causing him to scrunch his nose up.

"That’s not fair," he says the second he hears the beeping start again.You stick your tongue out at him and his eyes narrow. “Fine, if that’s the game we’re playing.”

You both look back at the camera and offer smiles, kisses and peace signs. But at the last beep, Jisung gets the idea to move both of his hands to cup over your chest, groping your boobs.

Your mouth falls open as you gasp in shock while Jisung starts laughing.

You try to pull his hands away, "Okay fine, point taken mister grabby hands."

Jisung is practically giggling to himself, whilst you wait for the timer to start again.

“Alright alright, we'll take a serious one now.” He says, placing his chin on your shoulder, as you both look at the camera.

But once again, as the third beeping starts he quickly says, “Do you think people would notice if I made you cum while we're in here?"

Your body stiffens in shock as the picture is taken. Jisung is bursting with laughter and you're taken aback.

Jisung likes sex. He loves sex in fact — especially with you. But he never does this. Sure he teases you when you're out and about — how could he not when you’re so beautiful and perfect for him. But he’s never insinuated doing something so sexual in public like this before.

But here the two of you are. Waiting for the timer to start again, but this time you’re anticipating the shit he was going to pull when the final beep comes — and he does not disappoint. Because his hands slide up your legs, dipping into your inner thighs and squeezing them.

"Jisung," you warn him, "behave yourself."

The beeping starts again, but Jisung doesn't move his hands, and starts to massage his fingers higher.

When the last tick happens, he moves his face to press a kiss to your jaw, and you feel his breath hitting your skin from his nose.

He starts to inch your legs a bit further apart to let his thumbs graze over the crease where your thighs meet your pelvis.

“Ive missed you so fucking much baby,” he whines. “I need you so bad.”

“Jisung not here,” you sigh as his hands start working to warm up your skin.

“Why not? Wouldn’t you like the thought of me getting you off in here? Trying not to get caught?"

If his face wasn't so close to yours you wouldn't be able to hear him over the loud music in the arcade and how low his voice has gotten.

You give him a confused frown, thinking he surely can't be fucking serious but when you do he takes the opportunity to press his lips against you, kissing you while the camera snaps the last picture.

Your stomach is knotting along with your heart beating faster and you feel that familiar heat between your legs but you’d never tell him that — and he’d never tell you that he knows you keep it from him.

"Would you?" He asks again when he breaks the kiss.

You look at him like he's lost his mind. "You're joking right?" You can't be serious - Jisung people get their pictures taken in here, someone could walk in, you can't-"

He makes your words stop and your breath hitch in your throat as he moves his hand up under your skirt and cups his hand between your legs.

"That's not what I asked you," he says letting his eyes trace over your face, then leans closer, "Would you enjoy it?"

“Jisung, this is so unlike you, are you even hearing what you’re asking me?”

He moves his leg a bit and wedges his heel against the edge of the door so it can't be pulled open, "I know exactly what I’m asking you, so answer me."

"We’re supposed to be taking pictures, Sung,” you try changing the subject, and ignore the pressure of his hand pressed against you.

"Oh god we will," he says like it should be obvious.

And now you’re looking even more caught off guard.

“I'd fucking kill to have some pictures of you getting off. Have them to look at them whenever I’m needy and miss you.”

Jisung starts to massage the heel of his palm very slowly against you, adding more pressure over your underwear as you try to squeeze your legs closed but he holds them with his other hand to keep them apart.

"We can't-" it takes very fibre in your body to attempt to protest this, but you easily allow him to cut you off.

"Yes we fucking can," he has that sly look on his face, "But if you don't want to, we won't. It's up to you. Should I stop?"

You exhale a weak breath as he replaces the heel of his palm with his fingers dancing over your underwear, massaging slow circles that make your hips shift.

"Won’t people think it's weird if we're in here too long." you fumble over your words which makes Jisung smile while he bites on his lip.

"Don't worry I'll be quick," he says knowing you’re only making excuses instead of admitting what you really want.

Your eyes drift closed as you sigh, feeling his fingers move against you to create a friction that's only making the throb between your legs worsen. You have absolutely no common sense when it comes to this man and his fucking fingers.

"Should I stop?" He repeats in a low voice, moving his mouth to start to kiss along your jaw.

As usual with him, your functioning brain checks out while your subconscious takes over and you shake your head feeling your breathing start to go shallow.

"You want me to make you cum, yeah? Is that right baby?" His words are slightly muffled as he moves his free hand from your inner thigh and brushes your hair back over your shoulder so he can move his mouth to your neck, "I need words baby."

You should be rational and tell him to stop. But you don't. You wouldn’t dare. You didn’t want him to. So instead you say what you do want, and breathe out a quiet "yes."

Jisung’s own breathing is getting heavier, and the tension in this small enclosed space feels like it's compressing both of you closer together. When he hears your approval, his hand between your legs bunches up the front of your skirt. When he slips it up he snakes his hand over your stomach to push down into your underwear.

A faint groan echoes in Jisung’s throat the second his fingers feel your bare skin, exploring around your underwear to feel the slickness there.

"You’ve made a mess. Missed me this much, huh?” his voice is low, while he drags his warm lips up your neck.

You only manage to nod your head, your brain focused on squirming your hips to find some kind of friction again. He finally rests the pads of his fingers against your throbbing clit, starting to tease circles that force a quiet whimper out of you. Your eyes are still closed as excitement and neediness flood your nerves.

For doing something that should be wrong, it feels so damn right, and it's all you can think of. Feeling him is all you can think about.

"You sure I can take some pictures?" He checks, keeping his movements steady as your hips start to circle against his hand,

You don't respond at first—you can’t—too caught up in how this is feeling, and when he dips his fingers down to your pussy to collect more arousal on his fingers before moving back to your clit and applying more pressure, your head falls forward as you pant out a strained, "You - fuck, yes, you can."

He chuckles hearing how fucked out you are for him, and he’s only just started. But it’s when you hold onto the thigh he’s been using to pry your legs open that his eyes darken with need.

He keeps his fingers moving while he manages to get some coins he had in his pocket, reaching forward to put them into the coin slot, then pressing the button to start the timer.

When he relaxes back he applies a firmer pressure, and starts to massage your clit in quicker circles; making your mouth drop open with a gasped moan. You can barely hear the beep for the picture anymore, everything around you turning blurry, and all you can hear is your heart beat mixed your heavy breathing.

"That's it baby," he coos, with a gravel to his voice from the tension in it, "God I wish I could fuck you right now. I’ve been dying for it.”

Your skin is burning up, and all you can manage in response is the pants from your open mouth, desperately trying to keep yourself quiet.

You start to grind yourself against him as his fingers work, and feel the hard bulge forming in his pants underneath your ass.

He wasn't kidding when he said he'd be quick, he's already building the pressure in your lower belly, making your stomach muscles tighten, while he moves his fingers in the exact way he knows you love it.

That knot in your lower half tightens, and your legs start to tremble as a louder moan you can't stop comes out of your mouth.

"Fuck—Jisung," you whimper, with your chest starting to heave with rapid uneven breaths.

He only quickens his fingers driving with determination and speed, making sure to keep repeating the same movements that are getting the best reactions from you and when your head falls back as you moan again; his free hand comes up to cover your mouth.

"Shhhh—quiet, remember?" He hushes against your ear, groaning at the feeling of you grinding against him, "I know you wanna cum baby, but there’s no way I’m letting anyone else hear how you sound for me.”

All you can manage is a muffled "mhm" against his hand as your eyes squeeze tighter. That familiar sensation starts to ripple from your centre down your legs and into the rest of your limbs.

The orgasm is speeding towards you, faster than anticipated causing your back to arch up as your hips writhe. Your mind is foggy only able to make out quiet whispers of encouragement coming from Jisung.

As the release ripples through your body and your moans are muted against his hand, Jisung groans again, feeling you shake on top of him. He can’t help but snap his hand away to grasp at your jaw to turn your face and kiss you hard while you ride through your climax.

The kiss is mostly open lips grazing against each other, or trying to connect in messy motions with both of your laboured breathing mixing together. His fingers only pause when you try to pull yourself away from them.

Once your eyes drift open to see Jisung’s, the look in them makes you want to squeeze your legs together again if you could move them currently.

Jisung brings his hand up, and grazes his pointer and middle finger he just used to send your body into a frenzy against your lower lip as a silent request for you to open your mouth. You don’t deny it, taking them into your mouth to taste yourself.

“Fucking hell,” his eyes dart back and forth from your eyes to your mouth. His head rolls back against the wall behind you and he whines in the quiet, "God fucking help me."

Your body is still buzzing, floating down dazed from the high it was on, and you watch Jisung bite down on his lower lip as his brows knit tight together, as his hips shift beneath you.

"Everything okay, Sungie?" It’s the only thing your mushed brain can think of saying as you look down at his strained pants.

"Fuck no," he mumbles, looking like he's trying to compose himself, "But it’s my own fault. I suggested we do this. I’ll deal with myself later.”

"Later?" You ask.

Jisung lifts his head back up, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek as he rubs his palm up and down your thigh, "Yeah, later. When we get home and we watch that movie you promised me.”

He thinks you don’t know that he uses the movie thing as a code to fuck you — but you do know — and that’s why you’ve never protested when he puts on another one of those Harry Potter movies he loves.

"You sure you'll be able to wait that long?"

Jisung’s lips lift up at the corners, "I’ve waited weeks for this, I’m sure I can manage a couple more hours.”

He hugs you against him with his arms around your stomach, and back against his firm chest.

"But then again,” he begins “Now I have the memory of how fucking hot watching you get off in here was. That makes waiting like some kind of sick torture to me."

You let out a weak laugh, feeling your cheeks flush more than they already were, "I still can't believe we just did this."

"I can, and there's pictures to prove it," he smiles, pulling the strip of three black and white photos from the dispenser.

[guiltyasdave]

it’s the season

part of the space sisters secret santa 2023 - for @pascalispretty, merry christmas sophie! 🫶🏻

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

word count: ~ 1.8k

summary: Joel had promised his daughters that they would bake Christmas cookies this weekend - which turns out to be more complicated than he had anticipated. Fortunately, their new neighbor next door can help.

tags: AU! no outbreak, Joel has both of his daughters, FLUFF, hints at reader’s sad backstory but nothing specific, mentions of alcohol consumption, able-bodied reader, I think that’s it? Let me know if I missed something <3

dividers by @/saradika-graphics 🫶🏻

full masterlist here

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs and turn on notifications for fic updates

shoutout to @reddedmiller for holding my hand while writing this and convincing me that it’s not trash, i love you bby <3

It’s Sunday, one week until Christmas, and Joel Miller is beginning to lose his mind.

His daughters had been bugging him about baking Christmas cookies with them for weeks, and he wants nothing more than to make them happy, but while Joel is many things, he’s certainly not a baker.

Work has been hectic lately, which apparently led to him forgetting to buy the ingredients that the girls swear up and down they had requested several times.

He’s had to sent Sarah to ask one of their neighbors to lend them something twice now and by the looks of it, he’s gonna have to do it a third time. She groans and insists to take Ellie with her this time, complaining about how this is “sooooo embarrassing, Dad!”

You furrow your brow when your doorbell rings for the third time in half an hour, a slightly disbelieving look on your face when you open the door and once again reveal the young girl from next door standing on your porch, this time accompanied by who you think is her younger sister.

You only moved into the house a month ago and don’t really know any of your neighbors, except for the elderly couple that lives a few houses over. They had introduced themselves hours after you moved in and have tried to invite you to come to Sunday church with them several times, an invitation that you consistently decline.

You know the girls though, you often see them through your windows, constantly pestering their father, who constantly fends them off in a kind of gruffy but clearly loving manner.

The girl who had introduced herself as “Sarah” when she first came by thirty minutes ago to ask for baking powder smiles at you apologetically.

“Hi… again. I’m so sorry, do you by any chance have cinnamon as well?”

You can't help but laugh this time. “What are you guys even doing over there? I think I do, why don’t you come in while I go check?” They nod and follow you into your kitchen where you start digging through your supply of baking ingredients.

“Our Dad said he’d bake Christmas cookies with us today, but he forgot to get the groceries for it,” the other girl explains. “I’m Ellie, by the way.” You smile and tell her your name, then hand over the cinnamon to them.

“That’s very sweet of your Dad,” you remark, “I’m sure he’s trying his best.”

Ellie’s eyes fly over your neatly organized collection of ingredients and baking utensils, then her face lights up with an idea.

“Hey! You look like you’re a good baker and our Dad is really struggling to be honest. Do you want to come over and join us?”

“Ellie,” Sarah argues, “you can’t just invite people like that, I’m sure she has plans already.”

You don’t, to be fair, but you’ve never spoken to their father before, who’s rather giving the impression that he likes to keep to himself.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude…” you begin, when Sarah looks around herself and notices that you don’t have any Christmas decorations up around your house.

“Or do you not celebrate Christmas?” she asks, “You obviously don’t have to come if that’s not…”

Your heart warms at how considerate the young girl is trying to be. “No I do, I just didn’t…” you trail off, not sure how to explain that it feels pointless putting up decorations just for yourself and that you don’t want the reminders that it will be the first Christmas in your life that you’ll be spending completely alone. You shake your head and plaster a smile on your face. You do like baking and maybe this will help getting you into the spirit.

“You know what? Okay, if it’s alright with your Dad, I’ll come over and see how I can help.”

Both girls beam at you and you follow them over to their house, where you find their Dad elbows deep in a mixing bowl with dough sticking to his fingers and swearing to himself under his breath. You feel awkward and definitely like an intruder but the girls’ mouths are going a mile a minute, explaining how you had soooo many baking supplies and that you had agreed to help them.

Their Dad introduces himself as “Joel” and you feel your cheeks heating when you notice how attractive he is up close. You had already thought that when you’ve seen him from afar, but now that you’re standing in his kitchen, it really hits you. Trying to snap out of it, you take a closer look at the dough that he’s fighting with.

“This needs more flour, then it’ll be less sticky,” you mutter, suddenly feeling a bit shy, and go to add it to the mix in his bowl. He huffs a “Thanks” and you smile, still fighting the heat in your cheeks but also feeling excitement buzz through you as your hand brushes against his when you pull back.

The girls kick back into action then, throwing several recipes at you that they want to try and you do your best to coordinate it all, running back to your place for ingredients several times, accompanied by an apologetic look from Joel every time, but you honestly don’t mind. His daughters are adorable and you’re having more fun than you’ve had in months.

Sarah turns on the radio and Christmas songs sound through the kitchen. With the music in your ear and the smell of freshly baked cookies in your nose, you feel at ease, comfortable.

When all the cookies are baked and thoroughly taste tested, the girls retreat to their rooms on the upper floor, leaving you and Joel alone in the kitchen. You find that you don’t want to leave, don’t want to go back to that big empty house where it’s just you, not now that you’ve basked in the warmth of this family home right next to yours all day. And just maybe, you want to spend more time with Joel.

“I have a bottle of pretty good red wine, shall I go and bring that? Half of my kitchen’s contents are here already” you joke and Joel laughs.

“I’m sorry about that, I’m usually better prepared, but work’s been crazy these weeks and the girls insisted on baking today, so…” He scratches his neck and you smile at him.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve had a great time today. Finally got me into the holiday spirit a bit, I kinda really needed that.”

You walk over and take the wine bottle back to his place where you sit down in the living room, the Christmas tree that has been mostly decorated by the girls shining in the corner and the several strings of fairy lights that Sarah has spread all over the room glowing around you.

You feel a warmth and comfort that you haven’t felt in a long time, but also a kind of envy for this feeling of family, of how clearly this man and the two girls belong together, how their house is basically imbued with love for each other. A feeling that you’re not sure you’ve ever had, but that you suddenly find yourself desperately longing for.

“So…” Joel begins, a faint expression of uncertainty on his face. “Is it just you over there, or…?” You understand what he’s asking and nod, a wry smile playing around your lips.

“Yeah, it’s- it’s a bit of a long story, really, but yes, it’s just me.” The understanding is clear on his face and he doesn’t push you, sensing that you don’t want to expand on the subject and you’re grateful.

You still talk about both of your pasts, where you grew up, where you went to school, learning that Joel lost his parents when he was young, only two years after he had Sarah, how it had been just the both of them in the beginning, with the addition of his younger brother whom he speaks of with the loving kind of exasperation that only an older sibling can muster up, and how he adopted Ellie a few years later.

You finish the bottle quicker than you would like to, and when Joel walks you home and you’re both stood in front of your door, you’re drunk on more than the red wine, a happiness in your veins that warms you from within.

Joel clears his throat, his eyes trained on your face.

“Listen, I don’t want ya to feel pressured or nothin’, but would you want to come over for Christmas Eve? ‘S just me an’ the girls, nothin’ fancy, just-“ he shrugs, his hands buried in his pockets, “don’t like the thought of you alone in this house on Christmas.”

It might be embarrassing how quickly you say “yes”, but you can’t bring yourself to feel that way. A smile stretches across Joel’s face as he tells you “good night” and kisses your cheek before you step into your house and watch him walk back to his.

Christmas at the Miller household is one of the best evenings that you’ve ever had. Sarah and Ellie have gone all out on the decorations now that they have a guest, leaving twinkling lights, glitter and ornaments in every corner and on every surface, Joel makes a surprisingly good dinner, you’re playing board games with the girls that dissolve into fights between them most of the time, everyone is talking over each other and you’re all eating chocolate until you’re sick with the sugar high.

Late in the evening, with both of the girls softly snoring on the couch, tangled up in each other like two overly large kittens, Joel and you are sharing another bottle of wine. You feel so full of happiness that you feel like you might burst, a smile on your face that feels like it’s never gonna leave again.

When it’s time for you to go home, Joel stands with you and walks with you to his front door. “Thank you again, for inviting me,” you smile at him, “this was probably the best Christmas Eve that I’ve ever had.”

He nods, his gaze dancing between your eyes and your lips.

“Merry Christmas,” you murmur, butterflies erupting in your stomach. He leans in and you hesitantly do the same. Before you can overthink it, you cradle his face in your hands and pull him towards you, your lips meeting in a soft kiss.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispers against your lips.

i hope you liked this!!! merry christmas and happy holidays 🫶🏻

[bellewintersroe]

Daniel Ricciardo x HornerDaughter! Reader.

Oooo part 4 already, thank you all for your likes and support! I’m so glad people are reading this stuff hahaha, anyway this chapter is gonna be broken apart into part 5 as well purely cos idk I got a bit of writers block on this chapter. But thank you for all your support& feedback, I’m going to incorporate it more into part 5 (without spoiling).

If anybody wants continuously tagging in this series / removing let me know!

@benbarneslut @dinodumbass

Daniel finds it impossible to think straight when she’s around, he’s becoming more and more intoxicated by her and when he’s finished a training session with the lack of her fathers presence, he sought’s her out once again…

Sighing, she lent over the paddock balcony, watching Daniel doing lap after lap on the Monegasque track. There was something so sexy about watching a man being so passionate and determined, not to mention dominant on the track. She knew he was training his ass off, like he always had, he was ready to race for Alpha Tauri, in one weeks time, barely having a day off.

Phone and cameras were pointed towards her, capturing several pictures of the beautiful girl. She was glowing, radiant in her pastel green summer dress. The wind blew her hair, into a picturesque mess. She knew about the attention, but shied away. A soft smile was thrown their way, before she gave Daniel one last glance and headed back to the bar inside.

Daniel. She couldn’t get the Australian off her mind. There obviously was a crush there, but the feelings that lingered around after their sexual encounters was complicated. Deep down, she knew she liked him. But another side of her worried he would never reciprocate her feelings. Everything between them had been strictly friendly for the past week, well apart from the time their hands met under a table. Daniel seemed to walk out of the room later that evening with his head hung in shame. Y/n couldn’t quite understand it. It hurt her feelings.

One minute he was texting her at 1AM, or telling her how beautiful she looked, the next he had the most guilty expression lingering on his face. There was nothing inappropriate between them, yeah she was younger, but it wasn’t weird, nor was it creepy. The only other thing was that her dad was so close to Daniel. He was their team principle- not that he’d banish Daniel for finding out, but she supposed no father wanted to know his daughters business with… one of his friends.

In the end, she just came to the conclusion than it was nothing more than an extreme sexual attraction, as did he (both obviously deluded). Her hunger was insatiable, as was his. When he came off the track, he caught a sight of the back of her. She was walking alone, phone in hand, dress slightly flowing as her curled hair bounced with each stride. Daniel felt like a weirdo, watching her walk away, but he couldn’t help it. The swing of her hips had him in a trance, his dick almost started hardening at the memory of the pictures he’d looked through of her last night. The videos from when they sexted, how wet her pussy sounded, how she’d gasped his name as she played with herself.

Christian was nowhere to be seen, putting Daniel’s mine at ease as he followed her through into the drivers room which she’d disappeared into moments before. She was alone, Daniel felt like an animal, shoving open the door and revealing her stood sipping from a bottle. She was reading something on her phone, glancing up in an inquisitive manner. She only smiled when she realised it was him. Daniel sighed, closing the door and watching her place her phone and the bottle down on one side. When his fingers clicked the door shut and locked, she attempted to let out a quick giggle. “What’re you-“

“C’mere. Just c’mere.” The Aussie hushed, striding over and taking her within his arms. His hands caressed over her face, pulling in for a deep kiss. There was nobody here to spoil the moment, Daniel wouldn’t allow his anxieties to take over as he kissed her deeply. He was already hard, straining in the suit, and she didn’t fail to notice this moments prior.

They didn’t speak, they just shared a heated kiss, inwardly moaning and sighing into one another’s mouths. “So you can finally touch me?” She whispered, breath hot against his face as he yanked her back in for another kiss. Daniel hummed, barely a response as he tightened his grip on the back of her head. She liked the way his fingers curled into her strands of hair, she imagined him pulling it back in a ponytail as she went down on him.

“Daniel.” She moaned, his lips trailing over her neck and collar bone. “C’mere, come sit on my lap.” He whispered, leading her towards the couch facing the TV’s as he watched in awe as she sat, each leg on his either side as he caressed her cheek, neck, down her shoulder and then cupped her ass under her dress. “Been watching you today..” he kissed her. “You look fucking beautiful.” He genuinely complimented as a smile lifted on her face, kissing him sweetly. Daniel found it endearing. “Wanted you to myself… just kiss me for a while.” He quickly spoke, the small admission making him nervous. He didn’t give it a chance to see her react, he was worried, so just kissed her instead. The kiss quickly turned into something more, she was grinding into his lap, his hands sliding up her dress and gripping her ass and hips like his life depended on it. She rolled back over him, sighing at the friction it caused as he watched with hazy eyes. Daniel slowly pulled down her underwear, watching back up to her cautiously, he tugged them fully off, pushing her shoes off to get the lace over her feet before stuffing the underwear into his pocket. “You keeping that?” She giggled.

“You know I am.” He smiled, kissing her lightly. “It’s mine now.” Daniel let out a breathy laugh before slipping her fingers over her wet pussy. As she opened her mouth to let out a breath, he mimicked, watching back to her. “Daniel-“ she barely spoke his name, overcome by the pleasure of having his fingers finally touching her. His finger slipped inside, cooing at her tightness as he watched his digit slide in and out, covered in her slick. “Fuckkk, you’re tight.” The Australian rung out. “Aren’t you?” Nudging his face up, he watched her with a tilted head, her face ever so slightly contorted in pleasure. She was so beautiful, it was intoxicating. “Yeah.” She whispered, hands settling on his shoulders to support herself as he fingered her gently. With each push she shuddered, hips ever so slightly gyrating with the movement. “Think you can take another?” He quietly spoke, watching her nod with a sigh before he squeezed in a second finger. “Fuck.” She sobbed, hiding her face in his shoulder. Daniel felt a softness run through his veins as he stroked his other hand up the bare of her back.

“That feel good?” “Yeah.” “Yeah?” She nodded into Daniel’s neck as he began twitching his fingers inside of her. She was so fucking warm and tight, Daniel didn’t know how he didn’t cum in 20 seconds when they last fucked. “Daniel.” Her hips moved harsher now, finger tips finding her way down to her aching clit as she sat back, making eye contact with the brown eyed man. “Bet you taste so good, don’t you?” He spoke as she slowed her movements, savouring the sensation of his fingers inside her cunt.

She moaned quietly, watching his eyes fall down to her. “Can I taste you?” Who was she to say no? “Yeah… please.” her head lolled as Daniel set her on the couch, propping her up before his lips attached to her thigh. “Daniel, don’t tease.” She warned, slapping his head ever so lightly.

“Sorry.” He genuinely smiled, before maintaining eye contact and wrapping his mouth around her pussy. Her eyes almost rolled back as he let out a satisfied moan, tasting her wet cunt as she dropped her head back with a sigh. “Taste so good.” Daniel started off with whispers, they both did. But as the pleasure and pace increased, she had to bite back on her hand, letting out small whined and hums as he edged her closer to an orgasm with his mouth. He was so fucking good at this, soft with her sensitive core, but using the perfect amount of pressure to bring her to peak.

“Daniel!” She choked, louder now as he squeezed his cock through his suit before using the hand to hold her thighs separate. “Daniel, Daniel, Daniel.” She moaned his name like a mantra, it spurred him on, despite the ache in his fingers, he wouldn’t stop, he couldn’t until she finished. “C’mon, I know you can cum for me.” He hushed, his accent driving her crazy as she snatched at his hair desperately. Her hips were bucking wildly and she was sweating profusely causing a shiny sheen over her tits and stomach. “Please!” She choked as he nodded, sucking on her clit. “Cum for me.” He insisted as her head tossed back, back arching up in desperation.

“C’mon, show me who this sweet cunt belongs to.” “You, Daniel!” She pleaded as he felt more precum leak from his aching member. If he didn’t touch himself now he thought he’d die.

“Yes, yes, yes! It’s all yours Daniel!” He liked this, watching her with desperate eyes as she let out one loud gasp, his free hand clasping over her mouth before her body seized and began convulsing from the effects of her orgasm. Her eyebrows tightened and eyes scrunched, Daniel felt how tight she went around his fingers and imagined how good it felt when she did that on his cock. She began tapping quickly on the back of his head. A warning.

He’d just pulled back in time for her to squirt all down his arm, Daniel’s jaw tensing as she let out a muffled cry of pleasure when she released. It was the hottest thing Daniel had ever seen, the way she’d cum on his mouth, pleading with him and telling him she was all his. He gently now pumped his fingers a few more time, milking the last of her orgasm, when she twitched and jittered he knew it was time to stop so pulled out softly, not wanting to overdo her sensitivity. Watching her come down, his head was now on her abdomen, gazing at her blissed out, now relaxed expression. She felt like she’d gone back from heaven and back, nobody had ever made her cum like that, not even herself. Daniel pulled his two fingers up to his mouth. Maintaining eye contact as he sucked them before sliding them up the back of her torso and lifting her closer for a lazy kiss. Her skin was so soft, and she always smelt so good, Daniel found it impossible to let her go.

He had tired her body out, pleasure still swindled her brain as she weakly clung onto him. “That was good, hey?” The Australian man gently asked, stroking her cheek with his thumb. He watched her with such intense eyes, she was scared in such a vulnerable moment, she’d fall in love. “So good.” Happy with the answer, Daniel nodded and kissed her gently before helping her back to her wobbly feet. She could see how painfully hard he was, reaching out to return the favour, but a hand landed on hers. “Not here. Back at the hotel.” Her eyes widened looking up at the taller man as he adjusted his suit. “You okay?” He then checked. “Yeah.” She blushed, fixing her skirt. Daniel still had her underwear in his pocket, the wetness seeped between her thighs creating an uncomfortably sticky residue. “C’mere.” He muttered, caressing her cheek into another longing kiss. “I’m gonna give you my key card, you can wait in there, ok? I just got some stuff I gotta sort out.” “Okay… I gotta shower.” She awkwardly smiled down to her legs, “you can at mine.” He offered as her eyes were on his again. “Okay.”

“Okay.” He smiled, “I’ll see you there.” He hesitated, not knowing if he should go in for the kiss, but she’d already smirked and begun walking around him. If she knew he wanted another kiss she’d have happily obliged. Daniel felt an odd sense of hurt at the lack of kiss. The thought was quickly shaken off when he’d remembered where she’d be waiting for him.

His hand tightened over the bunched up pair of thongs in his pocket, jaw tightening. This hard on would be borderline impossible to rid of with this much anticipation.

[lincolndjarin]

Oh Honey. ✩ Chapter 2

chapter two : beware the jabberwock

series masterlist ao3 kofi main masterlist

a/n : took a while to get out but here is chapter two !!! i have a lot of fun writing this fic bc the pacing is so much different than bks but i'm excited to get this chapter out bc i loved writing it so much and i'm so happy that people enjoy this fic so far !!

pairing : monster!joel miller x mortician!reader

rating : 18+ mdni - explicit content, read all warnings

word count : 15.1k (i'm so sorry idk what happened)

summary : new relationships are tricky, especially when your boyfriend likes to disappear for several days with no explanation.

warnings, etc. : dub con?? i'm gonna tag this with that because the sex is like weird in this?? a lot of it is angry or reluctant from one participant at times so i'm gonna tag it just in case, soulmates au, no outbreak au, language, graphic descriptions of violence, gore, fear, feeling of being stalked, feeling of being watched, me making up things regarding the embalming process, animal death, graphic description of the mortuary process, menstruation, derealization (sort of), smut, oral f!recieving, p in v, biting, just like a lot of mouth stuff lmao, cum eating, rough sex, degradation, sort of dumbification, joel is a bit beastly, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, praise, use of the pet name bunny, nightmares, periods, menstruation, joel is a terrible boyfriend, angry sex, injury, blood, blood drinking, manipulation, not a/b/o but something i made up that is sort of along those lines??, body horror, monsters, predator & prey dynamic, a lot of stuff happens this chap so i might have missed some sorry!!, no physical description of reader but joel is described as being abnormally strong and does pick reader up, there is no actual fucking of a monster yet we can't just do that right out the gate it's a thriller it destroys the thrill if they fuck immediately, that being said; this is a monster fucker fic - proceed accordingly

comments and reblogs are appreciated!

You don’t sleep well after your dream.

Just staring up at the ceiling until the sun is starting to shine through the windows. 

Not that you’ve been sleeping well recently to begin with. And Joel suddenly feels less safe, the grip of his arms around you feels more like it’s trapping you rather than protecting you.

It’s Joel. 

Just take a deep breath. 

It’s Joel. Joel Miller. Sweet, handsome, kind, Joel Miller. Joel who came back, even though you assumed you’d never hear from him again. 

It was nothing more than a dream. 

Stop making up monsters. 

You slip out of his arms, quietly making your way over to the fridge to try and find something to make for breakfast. You haven’t gone shopping in a while, all you’ve got is half a loaf of bread and a few eggs. Good enough. Clicking the stove on you set a pan down, cracking the eggs with a small sizzle as they hit the metal. 

“Up already?” You didn’t hear him wake but when you turn he’s propped up on an elbow watching you. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” Not technically a lie. 

“Are you okay?” He sits up a bit and you can feel him sizing you up. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” 

You aren’t really. 

But you can’t really tell him why, so why bother. 

He stretches his arms above his head as he gets up, making his way over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and resting his head on your shoulder as you flip the eggs. 

“Hungry?” You’re desperate to think about anything but your dreams, as you speak his grip around your waist tightens. 

“I could eat.” You shudder for several reasons as his teeth graze your neck before nipping at you. 

“These should be done in a few minutes, I just gotta make the toast.” You laugh softly as the scruff of his beard brushes against you. 

He makes it too easy to forget your fears. 

“Mhmm.” The vibrations from his humming make you gasp, nearly dropping the spatula in your hand as he squeezes you for a moment. You work around his advances, putting the bread in the toaster as one of his hands slips under your shirt. 

“How many do you want?” You hold up the bread in front of him, trying to get him to pay attention but it’s getting difficult to stay focused on your task when something is currently pressing against your ass. 

“I think I’m fine with just this.” He squeezes the bare flesh of your torso making you yelp a bit as his hand drifts further up. 

“What happened to your third date rule?” He groans as you reach over to the stove, turning the burner off to keep the eggs from burning before turning around in his arms, your back pressed against the counter. 

“We should go to dinner tonight.” He smiles before leaning forward to kiss you but you put a hand between his mouth and yours. 

“What makes you think I’ve forgiven you enough to warrant another date?”

He pouts. His bottom lip sticking out a bit as he frowns. 

“Wouldn’t matter if I did anyway, it would only be the second date.” You shrug. 

“Last night was the second date.” He says rather matter of factly. 

“That didn’t count.” You can’t help the smile that threatens to form on your as his frown deepens. 

“So you wanna wait for two more dates.” 

Definitely not.

“Tonight?” For a brief moment you try and think of anything else you might be doing but you don’t exactly have a social life here in Honey. 

“S’gotta be, I’m spending tomorrow with Ellie and then I’ll be busy with work, gotta catch up on some things.”

Why would he need to catch up if he’s been busy all week?

“Tonight works.” Even after what he put you through you still feel the strangest pull towards him, dragging him to the table with you as you set down a couple plates. 

“I’ll be here at eight?” He sits, an accomplished look on his face. 

“Works for me.”

You have an uneventful breakfast. 

Neither one of you talks about his disappearing act. And eventually he has to leave for work and so do you, so he gets his things together once you eat.

“Get dressed, I’ll drive you to Maria’s, I gotta pick up Tommy anyway.” He takes a sip of whatever juice you had left over in the fridge as you nod, finding something clean to wear before following him out to the truck. 

He makes it too easy.

He smiles like everything is fine and he holds your hand as he drives.

“Have a good day at work.” You return his smile and he leans across the truck cab to kiss your forehead.

“You too, I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you tonight.” You wave at him as you walk up to the house, Tommy’s just leaving, giving you a pat on the back as he passes you before jumping in the truck with his brother. With a weak smile you watch them go. 

There are no bodies today.

It’s a paperwork day for both of you. You know Maria’s dying to ask about what happened but she never does, just staring up at you every once in a while, always looking like she’s about to say something before choosing not to. 

You decide to throw her a bone. 

“I’m having dinner with Joel tonight.” You can’t ignore the surprised smile on her face. 

“I’m glad you two seem to be getting along.”

“Yeah, apparently he got caught up in his work for a few days.” You try and get a reaction out of her but she goes emotionless, giving you only a hum in response. 

You don’t try to start another conversation after that until you say good night at the end of your shift. Giving her a small wave before stepping into the misty evening air. 

You keep your eyes on the trees the entire walk home but nothing seems out of sorts and before you know it you’re safe in the camper.

You’re dressed and ready to go when the truck pulls up. You aren’t sure where exactly you’re supposed to be going but you’re ready nonetheless, deciding on just jeans and a plain tshirt. What you aren’t expecting is when Joel steps out of the truck with grocery bags and a grin plastered on his face.

“I thought we could cook together.” He says as he makes his way up the steps inside. 

“You know how to cook?” You try not to sound as surprised as you are but he just laughs. 

“I have two kids. I know how to cook.” He sets the bag on the counter and you open it, he’s brought bread, cheese, and cans of tomato soup. 

“What exactly do you plan on cooking?”

“Grilled cheese.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and any worries you had about tonight go out the window. 

“You really went all out for tonight.” You raise your eyebrows at him.

He nods, searching through the cabinets for a pan and a pot. 

“When you said cook together you meant you cook and I watch, right?” You lift yourself up onto the counter as he lights the stove. 

“Obviously.” He sets everything down and you watch him fish around the top of the fridge for a few seconds before pulling down a rather dusty old radio. “I knew she had one somewhere.” He grins as he sets it down beside you, plugging it in and fidgeting with the knobs until the static turns into music. 

You don’t recognize the song that plays but he does, as he hums along, opening the two cans, emptying them into the pot. 

You had been so nervous about tonight, nightmares aside, you had expected a totally different Joel, the kind of person who ignores you for a week and expects immediate forgiveness. But instead he continues to be just Joel. Joel, who’s very presence lulls you into an overpowering sense of comfort. The moment he stepped inside the camper the entire space became heavy with his cologne, everything smells like the forest, as if you’re surrounded by pine trees and not the four walls around you. 

“We should do something this week.” He turns to you as he butters the bread, setting it in the pan with a quiet sizzle. 

“Don’t you have work, and Ellie?” You tear open the plastic wrapper on the cheese, handing him a few slices. 

“I do, but I can get Tommy to watch her for a night.” He tosses them down onto the bread before opening a drawer, riffling around until he finds a spatula. 

You hum along to the music with him when the song changes to something familiar, watching him cook. 

He looks at home with you, like he belongs right here. 

You both laugh your way through dinner, it’s outrageous how charming he can be, he tells you about the house he’s building, and how his brother ordered the wrong kind of cement. (You didn’t know there was a wrong kind.) And he tells you about how Ellie’s picked up some curse words, apparently there’s quite an argument happening between the Millers regarding who she learned them from. 

You’ve always been hesitant to talk about work, especially on dates because you never know how people are going to react. Not everyone has the same relationship with death that you have. So when he says, how has working for Maria been? You aren’t exactly sure what to say. 

“It’s good.” 

“That’s it? It’s good?” He looks up at you, giving you that lopsided fucking smirk and you can’t help but just melt at the sight of it. 

“We’ve been… busy, lots of work the last few days, now we’re just funeral planning, this week we’ve got a funeral pretty much everyday, Maria’s swamped.” 

“What made you choose this line of work?”

You never really know how to answer that question. 

“Because I like to play with dead things.” Never gets the laugh you hope for, and the real answer just makes you sad.  

“I like to fix things.” You instinctively break eye contact, staring down at an uneven floor board you’d never noticed before under the table. “I like knowing that I can help people in that way, to fix them one last time.” 

For a moment he doesn’t speak, when you look back up at him he simply looks at you with something that resembles yearning. 

“That’s nice.” 

You’re glad he thinks so. 

He takes the dishes, rinsing them in the sink despite your protests. 

Your palms are getting clammy. 

This is, by his count, your third date. 

Is it weird that this feels scheduled? It was different when you’d brought him home after your first date, that felt natural, your body innately wanted to be with him. How do you even start this kind of thing when it feels so planned? You both know what you want but it feels strange to just outright say, so is this the part where we have sex? 

He dries his hands on his jeans and clears his throat as he turns back to you, holding his hand out, you aren’t really sure what he’s doing until he pulls you up from your seat, wrapping his other arm around your waist.

It isn’t the kind of song you can slow dance to, it’s fast and upbeat.

But as far as you can tell, Joel isn’t the kind of guy who dances in the first place, so you bring your free hand up to his shoulder and join him in his attempts to dance. 

I heat up, I can't cool down

You got me spinning

There isn’t a lot of floor space in the camper but he makes it work by holding you close and mostly just spinning you as he nods along to the music.

'Round and 'round

'Round and 'round and 'round it goes

If his goal was to put you at ease then it’s working, any remaining nerves you have fizzled out completely. You laugh in earnest, not out of fear, as he bumps his nose against yours. 

Where it stops nobody knows

Every time you call my name

I heat up like a burning flame

Burning flame full of desire

Kiss me baby, let the fire get higher

He keeps his forehead flush with yours as you continue to sway your hips back and forth to the beat, the both of you laughing and spinning, you watch curiously as he closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. 

Abra abracadabra

I wanna reach out and grab ya

Abra abracadabra

Abracadabra

With a satisfied sigh he opens his eyes, his gaze going from simple infatuation to something darker. When the song ends he pulls you close, so you’re chest to chest and reaches over, turning down the radio. 

“So…” You can’t stop smiling as you stare at him through your lashes. 

“So.” He gently guides you, his hands on your hips as he walks you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed. 

“I’ve got a long day tomorrow, I should probably get some sleep.” You give him an exaggerated yawn and point at the bed, plastering a mock apologetic look on your face. 

“You’re really funny.” He leans down to give you a chaste kiss before picking you up. His strength is still a wonder to you. 

The way he throws you down onto your bed makes you erupt into a fit of giggles but he certainly isn’t laughing anymore as he drags you by your ankles to the edge of the mattress, a look of concentration on his face now. 

“Joel!” You shriek as you hear the tearing of the zipper on your jeans. 

“M’sorry.” He grumbles, making no effort to slow down as he tugs them down. 

He doesn’t sound sorry.

“It’s a zipper, just unzip it for Christ's sake.” His sudden change in demeanor leaves you a little breathless, in the blink of an eye he’s gone from remarkably gentle to practically unhinged.

“S’too late for that.” He groans softly as he kneels on the camper floor, throwing your legs over his shoulders. 

“You owe me a new pair-” Your voice trails off into a stuttered moan as his mouth latches onto the front of your panties, dragging his tongue over the wet spot that’s been forming all night. 

“We can go to the mall sometime this week.” He mumbles against your cunt before you feel his teeth grazing the fabric before tearing it apart completely. 

“Jesus, Joel!” Instinctively your hands grip his hair as he buries his face between your legs. 

How sharp are his teeth? 

He’s all consuming. Like he’s trying to lay claim to every single part of you. And he’s loud, it’s a good thing you don’t have neighbors. Lewd slurping noises as he laps at your dripping hole like it’s his fucking job. 

He flattens his tongue, dragging it through your folds, for a moment you aren’t sure what he’s doing, but it feels fucking amazing. The way his tongue moves in and out of you, occasionally drawing a lazy circle around your clit, it isn’t like anything anyones ever done before. It takes you a moment to realize that he isn’t necessarily trying to make you feel good (despite the effect it may be having on you,) you’re pretty sure he’s tasting you. 

Drinking you in. If he’s trying to get you off it’s only because he wants more. 

“S’ so sweet.” He mumbles against your thigh, biting the meat there making you cry out a bit before he returns to his work between your legs. 

“Joel- fuck, Joel please.” You manage to stutter out between gasps, when did he become so gruff? You never could have predicted that he would be like this in bed, his grip on you is certain to leave bruises and you can barely think straight after just a few minutes with his head between your thighs. The noises he makes as his lips wrap around your clit are down right pornagraphic. Your vision is starting to go white around the edges as he does the first gentle thing since he started, sucking that bundle of nerves almost lazily. Through shuttered breaths you manage to mumble out his name a few more times your vision whites out completely. 

You’re a little surprised at how quickly he manages to pull an orgasm from you, your skin coated in a thin sheen of sweat as you sit up, pulling him up by his hair as you crash your lips against his, tasting your own slick on his tongue. He moves so feverishly as you feel his hands spreading you again, teasing your entrance with two fingers before slowly pushing them in. 

“Joel- oh my god-” He silences your rambling with his mouth again, swallowing your groan once he’s knuckle deep inside you. His brows furrow in concentration as he starts to pump them in and out of you. “P-please.” You stammer out. 

It’s such a sharp contrast to the Joel you’re used to, he’s so… unruly. 

“So fucking tight.” He mutters before grinding his palm against your clit, pulling another series of gasps from your throat. “Such a pretty, tight, wet cunt.” He whispers against your jaw and you feel a third finger pushing into you. 

You hadn’t expected him to be so vulgar, turns out he’s only all southern manners outside of the bedroom. You’re starting to see stars all over again as you feel the stretch of his thick fingers, he nips at your jaw before pressing them in deep, focusing on grinding the heel of his palm into your clit until you’re soaking his hand, hands tugging at his hair as a second orgasm is ripped out of you with a shudder. Your head falls back with a noisy whine, you can’t decide if you want more or less, his touch burns your skin but you feel so cold without it.  

“Please, please Joel.” You exhale the words, scratching lightly at his shoulders with a whine. 

“Tell me what you want.” His voice is lower than ever and you watch as he unzips his jeans, shoving them off and taking his cock in between his fingers, still slick with your release. Your eyes go wide as he strokes himself a few times, he’s thick, hefty, you’re trying not to stare slack-jawed at the way he fills his own hand.  You grab the bottom of his shirt, pulling it off in an attempt to feel more of his skin against you.

“Fuck me… please.” You tack on the please at the end hoping he doesn’t make you wait much longer as you gawk at his pretty tan skin. You don’t even know where to look, you run your fingers through the coarse sprinkle of black and gray hair on his chest as he crawls further up the bed to hover above you.

He takes your thighs, pushing them up against your stomach, his eyes dark with something reminiscent of hunger. You hook your own arms around your knees to keep yourself in that position as he takes hold of his cock once more, guiding himself into you with a strangled groan.

“Christ…” He mumbles under his breath as he slides just the tip of himself in, your own breath hitching at the size of him. He tilts head town, pressing a soft kiss to your chin. 

He splays his palms out on your thighs, leveraging himself as he carefully rocks his hips back and forth, slowly working himself into you. The camper fills with the sounds of your collective noises. Joel is loud. Grunting and growling as he fully buries himself in your heat. 

He scans your face for signs of distress, tears pricking the corners of your eyes, the tiniest sting from the stretch pulls a whine out of you but you only nod as he stares into your eyes. 

“More, Joel.”

Once he has your approval he starts moving, setting a pace that for a few thrusts is slow before picking up. Quickly becoming downright brutal, every slam of his pelvis against yours drives his cock deeper into you. He feels as if he was made for this, he’s just big enough that it doesn’t hurt, simply an overwhelming feeling of fullness. 

Your body begins to tense up all over again, you wrap your arms around his torso as much as you can in this position, scratching at his back. He leans forward, going in for a kiss before moving around your face, kissing your jaw, forehead, nose, and temples. When he kisses the apples of your cheeks you feel his tongue darting out. 

Did he just lick up a tear? 

He snaps his hips forward, disrupting your train of thought, his teeth barred as he does so, eyes fixed on every one of your reactions. He’s practically snarling as you let your head fall back against the mattress, the head of his cock driving into your g-spot.

“Wanna come again already, bunny?” You make a real spectacle of yourself, hooking your legs around his waist, trying to pull him in deeper. “Greedy little thing…”

“Joel please-”

“Joel please.” He mocks. “Is that all you can say now?” You keen softly but he only grins as you tighten around him. 

“P-please…” You squeak out as he snaps hips forward once more. 

“Come again, I wanna feel this pretty cunt come.” He snarls against your neck, leaving a trail of bites until he reaches your shoulder, a particularly harsh bite has you crying out.

“Joel!” You grit your teeth, a wave of heat washes over you as you come one last time, you feel his tongue dragging across the bite mark. 

It’s all so close to being painful.

Your stomach aches from the overstimulation, and you register a faint stinging feeling when he laps at the bite. Your walls clench around him, strangling his cock, and his hands instantly leave your legs, gripping the sheets instead.  

“Fuck, fuck.” He barely pulls out in time, coming on your stomach. You reach down in your haze, scooping some of his load onto your finger before sliding them between your lips. 

Fucking salted caramel. 

Sweet and sticky on your tongue. 

He pants above you, watching with an intoxicated look as you dip your fingers into his cum over and over again until your stomach is bare.

He nudges his nose against yours, rubbing every part of his face against you for a few minutes. It’s wildly intimate and you're once again a little taken aback by his sudden tone shift. 

“Was that okay?” He drawls, once again searching your face for any indication that you might not be. 

You nod, beaming up at him and letting him rest the bridge of his nose on yours for a few moments more before you slip out of his arms, stepping into the bathroom. You relieve yourself before going to sort yourself out in the mirror. 

You’re bleeding. 

Where he bit you, two mirroring crescents, red and angry on your shoulder, leaking blood. 

“Shit.” You grab a handful of toilet paper, wiping it clean before rinsing it in the sink and returning to him.  

“Everything okay?” He’s pulled his boxers on, tossing you his shirt which you’re eager to put on. You don’t want him to see the bite. 

“Everything’s fine.” You crawl back up into the bed beside him. 

He stays the night, pulling you to his chest and caging you in with his arms. 

And you aren’t haunted by dreams. 

In the morning a part of you worries he’ll disappear all over again, you’re a little surprised when he texts you just a few minutes after he drives off.  [ can’t wait to see you again soon bunny ]

Joel follows through on his promise. 

A few days later he picks you up from work and drives you to the outlet mall about an hour away, saying he needs to get some stuff for Ellie as well. Apparently she likes to throw plates so he wants to find the kind that suction onto the table. As he drives the radio plays a country song you don’t recognize which he hums along to as you watch the trees outside the window. 

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you about my aunt.” He turns the music down once you start speaking. 

“Darlene? You probably know her better than I do.” He doesn’t seem very eager to talk about her but it only makes you want to know more. 

“Doubt it. All I know about her is that she wasn’t close with anyone in my family.”

“You weren’t close? But she left you her camper.”

“That’s why I need to know anything you might know about her, I know nothing.” He seems hesitant and you’re worried if you keep pushing it he won’t tell you anything at all. 

“She was a lonely old woman, had me fix things for her often, I honestly think she just wanted company.” His voice softens a bit as he says it. 

“She didn’t have friends here in Honey?” 

“Not that I know of, she was a bit of a shut in, sweetest woman I’ve ever met, just a bit… skittish. She worked from home and I’m pretty sure someone delivered her groceries. The only time I ever saw her outside was when I was fixing her roof and she sat in a lawn chair to talk to me while I did.” 

“She worked from home?” 

“Yeah, something on her laptop, I’m not entirely sure.” You’ve never seen a laptop. 

You’ve been living in the camper for nearly six months and you’ve never seen a laptop. 

But that’s not what interests you the most right now. 

“What do you mean by skittish?” You’re trying to gauge his reaction but he doesn’t seem to have one. 

“Maybe skittish isn’t the right word. Eccentric? Some of the kids in town called her ditzy Darlene.” His expression sours as he says it. 

“That’s horrible.”

“It was.”

“Why?” He seems more reluctant than ever but now you’re just upset on behalf of the woman who left you everything.

“She fed into a lot of the legends around town, and didn't seem to have any hobbies outside of monster hunting.”

“Monster hunting?”

“She was the only local who went to the gift shops, searching for a monster she swears she saw.”

Sounds familiar.

“Did she ever find any?” 

“Monsters?” He laughs. “Not that I know of.”

“Did you think she was crazy?”

“I think she was lonely, and I think when you spend that much time alone your mind can wander.”

“But did you think she was crazy?” 

“No.” He puts an end to the conversation by putting the truck in park. You hadn’t even realized you were there, the outlet mall is so small. His southern manners remain persistent as he jogs around the truck to open your door for you, holding onto you to provide balance as you hop out.

You aren’t sure where anything is so you just follow him, taking his hand in yours as you walk. He takes you into a clothing store you don’t recognize the name of and waits patiently as you try on a few different pairs of jeans. It’s been quite some time since you’ve bought new clothes so you get a few pairs, you’re worried it’s boring for him to just wait outside the changing room but when you walk out with three pairs slung over your arm he still looks happy as can be. When you go to pay he opens his wallet, silencing your protests with a reminder that it’s his fault you needed new jeans in the first place. 

After that he takes his time, the two of you walk hand in hand through each store, he doesn’t even look around most of them, seemingly content with just spending time with you. 

He manages to find a few rubber bowls with suction cup bottoms for Ellie as well as some spanish flashcards and you decide to get a pair of blue hiking boots, if you’re gonna be walking everywhere you might as well be comfortable. 

At the last store you stop at you find a nice perfume, spraying a bit into the air and inhaling. It reminds you of springtime, it’s light, floral, but when Joel catches a whiff of it he scrunches his nose up. 

“You don’t like it?” You set the bottle back down. 

“I like the way you smell now.” You frown, trying to remember what shampoo and body wash you’ve been using. If you recall correctly it’s just some generic brand you’d bought ages ago. 

“I didn’t know you spoke spanish?” You remark, pointing at the bag containing the cards, opting to just change the subject rather than give yourself a headache trying to remember. 

“I don’t, but Sarah does and she’s been insisting I teach Ellie while she’s gone, something about it being better if she’s bilingual.”

“I think that’s sweet.” You swing your arms a bit, keeping his hand in yours as he walks you out of the store and in the direction of the truck. 

“Of course you think it’s sweet, you're not the one with two daughters who will be using their secret language against you.” He takes his keys from his pocket, clicking the unlock button. 

“It’s not a secret language, if your baby can learn it then I’m sure you can.” He helps you up into the truck once more, shutting the door behind you.

It’s almost comically difficult to keep your hands off him when you’re alone, especially now that you have a taste for him. Even just being in the truck with the windows up is suffocating, the smell of his aftershave or his laundry detergent drives you mad the moment you’re stuck in an enclosed space with him. 

You slide across the truck so you’re in the middle seat as he pulls out of the parking lot. It’s like you feel sick when you aren’t touching him, like you’re suffering from this barely noticeable nausea and you don’t realize you were even dealing with it until it’s gone. 

You watch curiously as he keeps one hand on the wheel and brings the other to rest on your thigh. His shoulders relax the moment he does, his frown lines smooth themselves out a bit. 

He’s just so warm, and he’s so nice to be near. Today he smells like a candle you used to have, something you lit around Christmas time. He smells like cookies and peppermint. 

You can’t help but turn your head a bit, trying to discreetly inhale the scent of his jacket.

To say that Joel Miller becomes the perfect boyfriend would be an understatement. 

He drives you to work, he sends you flowers, (which gets confusing in a funeral home.) he holds open doors, and he always texts you back. 

Quite literally everything gets better once he’s back in your life. 

You don’t get anymore mangled bodies, only a few from the nursing home and one from a nearby hospital, it’s mostly just funeral planning these days. You see Joel daily, Maria and Tommy seem a little surprised every time he dotes on you and you can’t help but wonder what he’s done to earn such a reaction, but he’s so sweet you hardly care. Between both of you working and him having a toddler you’re shocked he makes as much time for you as he does. You see him every morning when he takes you into work but he also insists on seeing you twice a week, whether it’s going out, or ordering in, or just dragging him into your bed, he always makes time for you. 

You even spend a little time with Ellie. Joel spends a lot of time with her at the funeral home so you often see her in little doses, she seems indifferent towards you which worries you until you realize she acts that way towards everyone but her father. It’s remarkable to watch him with her, he’s soft with you but with her it’s something else entirely. She sticks to him like glue and you’ve never once seen him look bothered by that fact, you assume she’d get bored just sitting in his arms but she never does. He likes to tell her jokes and you aren’t even sure she understands them but without fail she bursts into a fit of giggles every time he gets to the punchline. 

It’s good with him, everything is easier. Everything just sort of makes sense with Joel and for the first time in a long time everything feels right. 

Until the morning you wake up, a sticky feeling between your legs and an ache in your belly.

“Shit.” You roll out of bed, quickly shedding your clothes, tossing them into the laundry bin before texting Joel.

[ hot date idea for us, you drive me to the laundromat and then watch me do my laundry ] 

Setting your phone down you hop into the shower, washing away the blood with a groan, you spend far too long under the water, when you finally step out and check your phone you’re running late, you pull open the curtains a bit to see if Joel’s already waiting for you but much to your confusion you aren’t met with the familiar sight of the truck.

You had never really discussed him driving you to work; it was just something he’d started doing, you probably shouldn’t have expected it to be a permanent thing. 

You haphazardly pull yourself together, tossing on whatever looks clean before grabbing your phone and bag, rushing out the door. 

The cool morning air stings your face as you quickly walk down the familiar gravel driveway towards the home, you’re already preparing your excuse for why you’re so late but Maria doesn’t even notice as you step into the office, she’s busy on a call.

You recognize the look on her face, she’s talking to a family. You step inside, taking a seat in one of the chairs across from her desk as you wait. She seems to be at the end of the conversation. 

You couldn’t be more grateful that she takes care of telling the families. You’ve never been good at that kind of thing. She hangs up with a gentle, goodbye, smiling up at you as you try and imagine a situation in which your job was to deliver such terrible news. 

The ache in your stomach snaps you back to reality. 

Fuck. You forgot to bring anything.

“Any chance you have a pad?” You give her an apologetic look.

Based on her expression you’d think you’d just asked her for a lung. Several emotions flash across her face in an instant, but mostly she looks like someone who just solved a riddle that had been plaguing them for quite some time. She snaps out of it quickly though, giving you a curt nod. 

“Of course, let me just run upstairs.”

It’s an older man, graying and wearing what is obviously hiking gear.

Poor guy. 

He’s torn apart, the worst you’ve seen so far, his limbs have all been individually torn off, they lay, separated from the rest of him on the table. 

It’s an open casket so you’re gonna be down here all day. 

You text Joel one last time before setting your phone down. 

[ gonna be pretty busy all day, got another bear attack, i’ll call you when i’m on my way home. ] 

With that you get to work, putting on your gown and gloves, and starting at the torn clothes. It’s hard to figure out where his clothes start and his skin ends with the condition his body is in but you manage to cut him out of everything so you can properly assess the damage. 

You’re getting used to seeing these messy wounds, the sight of torn flesh. It should be a pretty easy job all things considered. He’ll be in a suit so you’ll just reattach everything and no one will ever have to see the extent of his wounds. 

You check everything twice, making sure that you’ve got the left and right correct before you start sewing things back up. You try to mimic the way you saw Maria do it, careful and practiced stitches.

You finish the legs easily enough, both had been ripped off just above the knee, you’re about to start on the arms when you drop the needle in surprise. 

How didn’t you realize this before? 

You’ve been preparing these bodies for weeks now and you’ve never once noticed one harrowing detail. You’re used to tending to bodies that have already seen a pathologist. Bodies with their organs in a bag, with their blood drained, ready to be prepared for a funeral or cremation. And you’ve been so focused on doing a good job to impress Maria that you’ve failed to take note of the most obvious thing before you. 

There’s no blood. 

None of the bodies you’ve tended to from the bear attacks have blood, all of their organs remain intact but because Maria declares cause of death you know she doesn’t drain them. You’ve drained everyone who hasn’t been sent in from a bear attack. 

Maybe Maria drained them before you got in.

But that isn’t possible, you know that, you’d have seen the equipment, and you’ve gotten bodies straight from the scene, already drained. 

You reach over to grab a scalpel off the table. 

You shouldn’t do this. You could probably be fired for it, but as long as no one finds out you’ll be fine. All the damage to this cadaver has been done to its limbs, so hypothetically, if you were to slice open his chest you would see blood, dried or otherwise. 

So you do just that. 

You carve out a small, clean, incision vertically on his sternum. 

Nothing. 

You’ve got a pen flashlight that you shine into his chest cavity only to find his organs. Dry. 

He’s been completely drained of his blood. 

You stitch him up quickly, finishing the job as swiftly as possible before running up the stairs, mumbling a rushed excuse to Maria before running the entire way home. 

Joel doesn’t text you back. 

This isn’t happening, not again, he wouldn’t do this again. 

You feel like you’re gonna be sick. 

An image flashes through your mind. 

Joel.

Lips curled back in a snarl. 

No. That wasn’t real, it was just a dream. Although the line between the two has been getting blurrier. 

Joel isn’t out there draining people of their blood, that’s absurd, even if he goes missing and those dates happen to coincide with the days that you get bloodless corpses. 

It’s a coincidence. 

Or it isn’t. 

Maybe for one second you should just let yourself consider the possibility that something is terribly wrong. 

You thoroughly check the two bodies you get the next day. 

They come in together, a couple from out of state hiking in the park. Neither one of them bleeds. 

The day after that you wake up early and walk to the funeral home as the sun rises. You watch the hearse wheel in the body, and you make sure you’re the first person to see her. 

A tragically beautiful woman who appears to be in her late forties, maybe early fifties. 

None of her wounds are bloody, and when you open her chest cavity it’s like someone drank her insides with a straw. 

You’re nearly at your breaking point, nothing you’re looking at makes any sense. 

You spend that night in bed, unable to sleep as you try and figure out what the hell is going on. 

Joel doesn’t answer your calls. 

He doesn’t respond to your several angry texts. 

And something deep down within you tells you that asking Maria would be a mistake. 

You’re completely alone on this. 

So you call Maria and you tell her that you’re sick and won’t be in tomorrow. Then you look up the bus schedule in and out of town.

The bus comes in and out of Honey twice, every other day. Lucky for you, today is one of the days the bus will be there in the morning, and return in the evening. 

The bus stop is empty when you arrive, the misty morning air clings to your skin as you stare out into the surrounding forest. 

Something is out there. 

And you’re gonna find out what it is.

You can’t keep being afraid, this is your home now, and you won’t be driven away by some imaginary monster. 

It starts to drizzle when you look out the window of the bus, watching Honey disappear behind you. 

You have a plan. 

Well sort of. 

You’re going to find some literature on the subject. You’re sick of feeling crazy so you’re going to prove yourself right. Something is very wrong in Honey, and monster or not, you’re going to figure it out. 

You don’t catch the name of the town you end up in, you just get off at the stop that looks the most tourist friendly, assuming that there has to be a book store somewhere in town. 

You only have to walk main street for a few minutes before you find it. 

It’s a quaint little shop tucked in between an attorney's office and a gift shop. 

Betty’s Books

Dimly lit and jam packed wall to wall with books, a small elderly woman sits behind the counter, reading a Stephen King novel. 

“Excuse me?” You clear your throat as she looks up at you over her wiry glasses. 

“How can I help you?” Her smile is warm, it fills the entire shop with an aura of comfort. 

You’re going to sound ridiculous. And the moment you do this you’ll be speaking it into existence. 

You don’t have any other options. 

“Do you have anything on local urban legends?” You try not to sound too ashamed but her smile never falters as she points. 

“Back left corner, dear.” 

“Thank you.”

“Let me know if you need anything else.” She’s already buried her nose back in her book before you turn towards the rest of the shop. 

You begin searching the shelves for anything that could possibly help you, there’s several different books on bigfoot and the loch ness monster. There are a lot of empty spaces between books and you have to assume that this is what most tourists are buying. 

People in search of ghosts and myths. 

Are you any better than them? 

Running out into the darkness, looking for a monster you very well may have made up. 

You look through a few more options before finally settling on a thick, leather bound book, you pull it from its place and stare down at the embossed cover. 

A Beginners Guide to Cryptozoology : West Virginian Monsters 

You aren’t going to find a better place to start. 

You move back towards the front, stopping in front of the children's section.

Lullabies & Poems for Bedtime 

A rabbit with a pocket watch, asleep under a tree, adorns the cover. 

Ellie might like that. 

Even if you’re madder than hell at her father. 

You grab the little white book, setting both onto the counter, paying before stepping out into the rain. You’ve got hours until the bus back to Honey returns so you quickly make your way to a diner across the street, keeping the books tucked into your jacket. 

A little bell chimes as you push the door open, sitting yourself at one of the free booths you set the books down on the table. 

The waitress brings you coffee and water as you set your jacket aside, you order a plate of fries just to give you something to do as you watch the rain on the diner windows for a bit. 

Eventually you know you can’t put it off anymore so you open up the book and sit back, taking care to read every single page, not wanting to miss a thing. 

The first thing you learn is that there are a startling number of unnamed monsters. 

It covers the basics in the first few chapters, mothman, bigfoot, chupacabra, and werewolves, but the second half of the book is entirely monsters with no names, only ink drawing accompanying the descriptions. For a while you find nothing, eventually ordering a milkshake which you sip as you skim the pages.

After two hours you’re about to give up when you stumble across a page that finally shows something familiar. 

A drawing of a body, mangled, with wounds you recognize. 

Five slashes across the chest, both arms completely torn off. 

This creature is thought to reside only in heavily wooded areas, it was speculated to be located in the southern United States for several decades before disappearing completely. 

Since then people have claimed to have seen this creature in many different locations although the majority seem to be centralized to the east coast of North America, resembling a lich, or a wendigo. 

When you turn the page the illustration of the monster stares back at you. 

It’s hard to make out what’s what and it looks mostly like inky scribbles but within those lines you see the creature you’ve been imagining. Long, sharp limbs, massive shoulders, and a face almost reminiscent of a humans, everything is just… distorted. 

While technically unnamed, there are many unique pieces of folklore attached to this specific creature. Witnesses claim to have seen this monster transform from human to creature and vice versa, as if they walk among us in their free time. 

What sets the creature apart from many other creatures of this variety is their affinity for humans. More often than not we’ve gotten reports of these creatures seeking out human mates.

We have several different claims from people saying they’ve seen the transformation happen right before their very eyes. One man claimed to have watched his sister in law turn at Thanksgiving dinner. Another says that he saw a cousin's boyfriend disappear into the woods during a wedding, transforming into a beast as he did. 

According to old legends there is thought to be a connection between these creatures and their mates, quite literally bonding them in blood. The males are believed to be linked to their human mates menstrual cycles; if they have one, the females are linked to their own. There are many different descriptions of what this means for human mates. Some believe that when this creature comes in contact with their mate that they permanently revert to their human forms. Others believe they’re hunger for flesh only grows after coming in contact with them.

But most believe that they eat their mate. Plain and simple. That their blood is more potent to them than anyone else’s, so much so that any love they may harbor for them is irrelevant, they are simply blinded by their bloodlust. 

Its victims often resemble that of an animal attack. Bodies torn apart, mangled, often believers of this legend are ‘disproven’ because of this fact, but there is always one thing that separates this creature's kills from that of an animal. Animals who eat their victims will do exactly that, eat them, this creature does no such thing, while it does massacre its victims it will rarely consume its flesh, preferring the taste of blood. 

There have been no confirmed sightings of these creatures and we have been unable to trace its origins or obtain any photographic evidence, maybe it really is just an animal. 

Monster or bear? It’s up to you.

It’s up to you. 

You slam the book shut.

It’s nonsense. 

Joel isn’t some blood drinking, period monster. But you came all this way, looking for a monster, and seemingly you’ve found it. 

You pick up the little book for Ellie, taking a sip of your coffee. 

Maybe it’ll make you feel better. 

You open it to find a familiar little song on the inside of the cover.

I know you,

I walked with you once upon a dream. 

You flip through it, mostly admiring the beautiful illustrations, they look like watercolors. There’s a frog with a crown, princesses with flowing gowns and witches grinning up at you from the pages. It isn’t until some random page in the middle that you actually stop to read the poem. The drawing accompanying this one isn’t colorful, only black ink, a drastic change from everything so far. 

Jabberwocky

By: Lewis Carroll 

It unsettles you to look at so you focus on the words instead. You know this creature, it’s from Alice in Wonderland. The poem is whimsical, you can imagine a child finding it rather entertaining should a parent read it with enthusiasm. You don’t have a parent reading it to you though, you’re alone, staring at the lines that have caught your eye. 

Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

No more books today. 

When you check your phone there are no new notifications. So Joel is either a terrible boyfriend or a potential murderer. 

How comforting. 

Fuck it. 

You click on his contact.

[ TEXT ME BACK RIGHT NOW. OR WE’RE THROUGH. ] 

Monsters aren’t real. 

Joel Miller is just the worst boyfriend (soon to be ex-boyfriend) on the planet. 

It doesn’t help that you catch a glimpse of a tampon wrapper in your bag when you throw your phone back into it. 

It’s a coincidence. 

You can’t say anything to anyone about this, how would it look if ditzy Darlene’s niece showed up and started spinning stories of her own? You can’t do it, you know exactly what people would say. They’d say it ran in the family and they’d find a reason to be cruel to her even in death. 

So you take the bus home in silence. 

For the next few days barely speak to Maria other than polite greetings, you’re certain she doesn’t notice, both of you are swamped. You’ve got a body everyday the rest of the week and she’s up to her neck in paperwork. 

And Joel never texts.

Maria’s juggling Ellie and trying to fill out papers when you get in the next morning. 

“Thank god you’re here, can you run upstairs and grab something for me, there’s a little makeup bag on the counter in the bathroom, I forgot it earlier and I’m waiting on a phone call regarding the couple we had.” 

“Of course.” You set your things down before reaching for Ellie. “Here, let me take her so you can do that.”

“You’re a lifesaver, thank you.” Almost as if on cue the phone rings the moment she says it. You head towards the stairs, the toddler in your arms scrunches up her face as if trying to recall your identity. 

“You know me, silly, I’m friends with your daddy.” At the mention of her father she seems to relax and you open the door at the top of the stairs. 

You’ve never actually been in this part of the house before, you’ve always stayed in the business section. You don’t get a chance to look around, the bathroom is the first door on your left. A bag the size of a pencil box is on the counter, you hand it to Ellie, her little hands play with the bag as you carefully bounce her in your arms. 

“Do you know where your daddy is?” You poke her in the belly making her smile at you for the first time. “Not gonna snitch?” You tickle her side, earning a tiny giggle. You let her play with the zipper as you bring her back downstairs. “Any bodies today?” You yell as you descend the stairs. 

“Had a cremation from the home this morning, I’ve just got a lot of papers, I’m planning six funerals simultaneously right now.” 

Six massacred corpses in six days. 

“Where’s Tommy?” Ellie puts up a bit of a fight for the bag but you set it down on the desk just in time to watch Marias grip on her pen tighten. 

Yikes. Must be a sore spot right now. 

“He’s got a work thing, left me with that little monster.” She uses the pen to point at the toddler who’s already starting to get antsy in your arms. 

If you’ve got no bodies today you might as well offer to help.

“I can watch Ellie if you’d like.” 

“Really? You don’t mind?”

“Of course not, want me to keep her upstairs? I’m sure you don’t want me watching her in the basement.” You laugh a little as she nods. 

“You really are a lifesaver, I don’t know how I managed without you.” 

“Oh stop, you clearly did just fine before I came along.” Your face gets a bit hot at the compliment. 

“I’ll be up in a few hours once I finish up here, you two have fun.” She doesn’t give any instruction beyond that so you just take Ellie back upstairs. You haven’t spent much time with her beyond the small interactions in passing but you know she doesn’t like doing nothing unless it’s with Joel. She’s trying to get out of your arms the second you’re at the top of the stairs. You set her down in the entryway and she’s already running into the kitchen. 

You don’t want to snoop but you actually get to take a good look around as Ellie settles in front of a pile of notebooks and a mess of crayons on the kitchen floor. It’s a pretty open floor plan, the kitchen and living room are all one big room and from the looks of it they must watch Ellie often, an outsider would assume they have a child of their own. A play pen is set up on the floor of the living room and toys are scattered everywhere. 

“Are you hungry, sweetie? Do you want something to eat?” There’s different snacks on the counter as you walk over to where she’s playing. 

“Yes please.” Her voice is clear and high pitched, you’re actually a little surprised, you didn’t even know she could talk, she’s always silent when you’re around. There’s an assortment of different things on the counter so you just find something that’s already open. Handing her a little container of apple puffs, she doesn’t look up from her drawings, just blindly reaching over and grabbing a handful as you sit at the counter to watch over her. 

She’s a very well behaved baby all things considered. 

You have to stop her from drawing on the walls a few times and at one point she stuffed a handful of food between the couch cushions but other than that she’s rather relaxed. She sits and draws mostly, only occasionally getting up and doing a few laps around the room before returning to her papers. 

At one point she makes her way to where you’re sitting, slapping your leg to get your attention until you pick her up, she points to the window above the sink and when you take her there she simply stares out at the trees. 

She’s focused on the woods as you watch her expression, her face is oddly serious. 

After a few minutes you set her down, unease filling your body. She doesn’t seem to mind though as she runs back to her drawings, you return to the counter, checking your phone for a few minutes until she appears in your peripherals once more, tapping your leg again, handing you one of her drawings. 

At several different moments this week you’ve thought that you’ve reached your breaking point. 

None of those compare to how you feel when you pick up the paper Ellie had been scribbling on. 

It’s crude and mostly indiscernible but you know exactly what you’re looking at. 

A monster. 

A broad shouldered, sharp toothed, crayon monster. 

You stare at the little girl, trying to keep your composure as you pick her up, setting her in your lap and pointing at the mess of scribbles on the page. 

You feel crazier than ever, asking a toddler for help but no one else is around and you’re running out of options. 

“Can you tell me what that is, sweetie? What did you draw?” You hand her the drawing back which she crumples a bit in her fist before setting it on the counter, you point again at the creature. “Ellie, honey, can you tell me what this is please?” You’re doing your best to keep calm as she kicks her legs a bit before staring up at you with a frown. 

“Daddy?” For someone so small she speaks so loudly and clearly, but you just shake your head. 

“I know, honey, you want your daddy, I wish I knew where he was but you’re stuck with me today.” You smooth out her hair a bit as she scrunches up her face, looking rather upset. 

“Tío.” She points down at the drawing before looking back at you for approval, you just smile. You feel like an idiot. Asking a child for help. A child who can barely speak. 

“It’s okay, you’re too little to understand.” You hold her under one arm as you walk around the counter to the fridge. “How about I get you some juice.” 

You find a clean sippy cup, pouring her some apple juice before setting her back down, handing her the cup and searching through your bag. 

“I almost forgot, I got you a present.” She perks up immediately, setting her cup down as you hold the little white book out towards her.

“Thanks!” Her eyes light up as she takes it from you, it’s one of the few times you’ve seen her smile without her father being in the room, sitting on the floor before looking back up at you, tapping the spot next to her until you sit as well. 

“Do you want me to read it to you?” You watch as she sets it down in front of her, she’s surprisingly gentle as she flips open the cover. 

“No thank you.” She’s enraptured by the illustrations, not caring for the text, laying down on her stomach, and sitting up on her elbows as she slowly flips through the pages, her eyes wide as she points out everything she sees to you. You rub her back, nodding along, you’re mostly just happy that she’s excited. 

She kicks her feet as she explains the big red bird on the page to you. After a few more minutes of her babbling she turns the page again.

Jabberwocky 

She giggles wildly as she points at the page and suddenly you’re filled with dread all over again. She’s positively captivated by the drawing, refusing to turn to a different page when you urge her to move on.

You don’t speak again until Maria comes upstairs to check on her, when you do it’s to tell her you aren’t feeling well, and you’re going home.

You’re going on a monster hunt. 

There’s nothing left to do. You need to soothe your fears before you lose it completely and you aren’t going to stare at the trees and wonder for the rest of your life. 

You stop at one of the tourist traps in town, you need supplies for tonight. 

A camera. 

It’s an easy in and out stop. You buy a polaroid camera, and several packs of film. 

No one will believe you otherwise, you’ll be ridiculed the same way they did Darlene. You think of her as you walk back home, what if she was right about everything? She spent her life in fear of a monster no one believed in and they mocked her for it, and at the end of the day she might have been right. 

Maybe the monster is real and it isn’t Joel. 

Either way you’re going into the woods tonight. Your backpack is packed with the essentials, your water bottle, camera, an extra film pack, one of the knives from the kitchen (wrapped in a towel,) and a flashlight. 

Once you’re packed you put your boots and jacket on and head out. 

It’s like everything quiets down the moment you step outside. The forest hums, beckoning you in, and how could you refuse such an offer? 

You manage to keep your hands steady as you flip the switch on your flashlight, stepping into the trees. It feels so much colder now than it did when you were walking home. 

With dusk settling the sun is no longer there to keep you warm or to guide your way. You haven’t actually seen much of the forest, so you decide to walk in a straight line to avoid getting lost as you carefully step over a tangle of roots. As a child you loved nothing more than playing in the woods behind your house. But after just half an hour in these woods you suddenly resent the trees, they no longer bring you any comfort as you carry on into the cold dark night. You’re just about to give up and turn back around when suddenly something changes.  

Without warning and with seemingly no cause you feel a chill rush through your body, your hair standing on end. Your blood runs cold and you hear a sound you’re all too familiar with at this point. 

The tearing sound rips through the air. 

Your instincts tell you that you’ve become prey rather suddenly in this situation but you can’t turn back now, not when you can prove to yourself that you aren’t losing it. 

As quietly as possible you reach back into your pack, grabbing the camera already loaded with film and holding it in your free hand. The beam coming from your flashlight trembles slightly as you carry on towards the noise. 

It’s louder than it ever was in the dreams. In the dreams it was subdued, almost as if you subconsciously knew that it couldn’t hurt you. As you carry onward you can’t help but wonder if you’re just imagining it at this point. It doesn’t seem to get louder as you walk. It simply fills the air completely, you’re being directed purely by your instincts. You know it’s this way as you move forward a few more steps. 

You scan the trees with your light, seeing nothing out of the ordinary until you finally see it. Your finger instinctively flips off your flashlight. 

You almost didn’t catch it. 

But your legs keep moving and you get closer and closer to the hunched figure. 

It’s hard to describe, like your eyes don’t want to accept what you’re seeing. A voice in the back of your mind tells you that you’re getting too close but you can’t seem to stop yourself as you carry on until you can get a good look at it. 

You can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief as you realize it isn’t Joel. But that relief only lasts a moment as you see what you’re actually dealing with. 

You aren’t sure how big it is. It’s big. That much is clear but it’s crouched down, it’s almost human, it may have once been human. You’re having trouble making out most of it in only the moonlight. It’s less broad than the illustrations you’ve seen, almost slim, with how close you are now you can see that it’s eating. 

A buck, one of the biggest ones you’ve ever seen is splayed out across some rocks. It’s stomach has been ripped open. You watch, with morbid fascination as it digs its maw deeper into the gore. 

How curious, it’s wearing clothes. Or at least the remains of some clothing, a bit of fabric clings to its crooked spine, it wears the tattered collar of a shirt like a necklace. Navy blue sweatpants stretch around the creature's waist, the fabric pulled taut, it looks like they make it just past its knees. The elastic around the ankles has snapped. 

The funniest part of all of this is that you feel nothing but fear for the creature. You aren’t disgusted and you certainly don’t hate it. You’re just afraid, so afraid that before you can slap your hand over your mouth you burst into a peal of laughter. 

Fuck. 

It all happens so fast, you aren’t ready in the slightest to be face to face with it and suddenly you are, purely on instinct your hand twitches and with the flash of the camera you get a single moment to stare at it. 

It’s so close to being human.

It’s mouth is too big, a blood soaked tongue falling past a row of jagged, pointed teeth. It’s almost like someone stretched out a person's face like it was made of clay. And it’s male. Intricate branching horns stretch out from under the hair crowning its head. 

“The doe’s don’t have antlers.”

Your dad was a hunter, you know your antlers,  you aren’t exactly sure but if it was a deer it would be a thirteen pointer. You should run, you’re about to but then you finally look it in the eye, just as the final remnants of the camera flash flicker out. 

There is something worse than hunger, or thirst, or rage in its eyes, if that was all there was you could scream or cry. But this leaves you frozen in place. 

Recognition. 

Like it knows you. 

And the moment it recognizes you it snarls, an ear-piercing sound that rips through the quiet of the forest, blood spewing from its maw at you, flecks of crimson tint your clothes and hands as your eyes go wide.

It’s a good thing your legs move faster than your brain, you’re already sprinting away from the creature. 

You lose your flashlight almost immediately but you know where you’re going, you couldn’t be more thankful for your decision to go in a straight line. You don’t stop moving, running blindly back the way you came, never once daring to look behind you. 

You know it’s there, you can hear it, and you can feel it. 

Its breath is hot on your heels, you can hear the branches splintering directly behind you. Everything is a blur, stray branches sting your exposed skin but you don’t stop, you can’t, your muscles ache as you push onward, keeping your hands out in front of you to guide you through the darkness until you finally see the road up ahead. 

You’re nearly there, almost feeling relief, almost. 

An icy hand wraps around your ankle, you’re yanked backwards before you can process what’s going on, your back dragging across the forest floor and in an instant you’re beneath it. 

This is it. 

You wanted a monster, you got one. And now you’re going to die for it. It snarls as its maw falls open, you’re face to face with a row of shimmering, gore smeared teeth. This is it. 

He smells like cinnamon. 

It tilts its head ninety degrees, its jaw closing in on your throat as you close your eyes, tears now flow freely down your face and finally you can’t contain your terror anymore. 

You scream. 

A trembling shriek falling from your lips and much to your confusion a killing blow never comes. After one more shuddering breath you open your eyes only to find you’re just staring up at the trees. You sit up, still out of breath. 

He’s a few feet away now. 

Thrashing around frantically as he stumbles backwards. As if your scream had upset him. He bellows, his twisted hands clutching his skull like he’s angry with himself. You cover your ears instinctively when it snarls in pain.

He can’t help it. 

You’re scrambling to your feet once more, giving him one final glance, you look into each other's eyes.

“Run.” 

It speaks. 

You break into a sprint once more, not daring to stop until your feet touch pavement. You don’t get the sense that you’re being followed anymore but you’re still in shambles. The adrenaline is slowly starting to fizzle out and you’re painfully aware of the wound you sustained during that encounter. Your ankle is torn up, two deep gashes from where it grabbed you are bleeding an alarming amount. You stumble, the sight of it making you nauseous. 

You get a moment's respite and you manage to compose yourself enough to retrieve your phone from your pocket. Walking backwards, keeping your eyes on the forest as you slowly continue to back away. In your desperation your blood stained fingertips frantically swipe across your phone screen, you don’t realize until it’s too late that you’re calling the only person who isn’t going to answer. 

Yet when you bring the phone to your ear you hear a click. 

“Joel?” You can’t fucking believe it. He actually picked up. 

“Sweetheart? Are you okay?” He can definitely hear the panic in your voice. 

You just break down.

“I’m by the road, on the way from Maria’s to my camper, I- I need you to come get me, please, it’s- it’s following me, but I think I lost it please, Joel.” You’re in hysterics as you catch a glimpse of one of the few streetlights down the road. You hear the sound of keys and you swear you hear Maria saying something in the background but you’re too frenzied to focus on that. 

“Who’s following you? Stay right there m’on my way.” You can hear the truck starting in the background as you keep running, not daring to stop even though it doesn’t feel like you’re being pursued anymore. 

“The monster… in the woods… it’s not a bear Joel.” You’re out of breath when you finally stop, standing in the middle of the road underneath the street lamp, spinning around to try and somehow keep an eye on all of the darkness around you. 

“Stay where you are, I’ll be there in two minutes, okay? Stay right where you are.” You’re about to beg him to hurry when the line goes dead. 

You must look like a mad woman. Standing in the middle of the street, covered in blood, and spinning in circles to try and keep an eye on every single direction as you listen for any signs of movement. 

Your heartbeat never slows, you can hear it pounding in the crushing silence that surrounds you. 

It only takes a few minutes before you see headlights approaching in the distance. You don’t even let the truck come to a full stop as you open the door and jump in, closing it behind you as you scramble towards Joel as if he could protect you from the goliath you saw in the darkness. 

“Drive! Now Joel, go!” You yell as he accelerates just to the point of following the speed limit as he heads towards your camper. 

“Bunny, please, calm down.” He wraps the hand that isn’t on the steering wheel around you but you shove him off, sliding back to the other side of the truck. 

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Joel, not after what I just went through, I saw it, a real monster grabbed me.” You’re stumbling over your words, trying to get them out as quickly as possible.

“Slow down, just tell me what happened.”

“I told you on the phone, I just found a fucking monster, Joel, that’s what happened.”

He’s gone silent now.

He probably thinks you’re crazy. 

That’s fine. You know you aren’t, you saw it, watched it feed. There’s deer blood on your boots. 

“You didn’t see a monster.” When you look he’s shaking worse than you are. You don’t dare turn your head further but you watch in your peripheral as he grips the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. 

He’s lying. 

Why would he lie? 

“I did, I took a-.” You reach into your bag and your stomach fills with dread as you realize you dropped the camera. 

“You didn’t. You’ve been spending too much time alone, and you shouldn’t be going out in the woods by yourself to begin with.” 

“And who’s fault is it that I’ve been alone?” You snap.

He doesn’t have a response to that. And you don’t have anything else to say, not like he’d believe you if you did. You should probably break up with him, for several reasons. 

Except you can’t. 

If you do, how will you stop people from being needlessly murdered? He may not be the monster, but he knows something, and you need to find out what it is. 

So you’ll ‘forgive’ him. Again. Because you need to get to the bottom of this.

And maybe, despite it all, you’re still terribly attached to him. He keeps disappearing, without warning and with halfhearted excuses as to why and all you can think about right now is how badly you missed him, and how badly you need him.  

“Does Tommy have Ellie tonight?” You mumble, trying not to sound too irritated. 

“I was stopping in to see her before leaving her with Maria for the night when you called.”

“Why?”

“I was gonna come over here and apologize.” He sounds just as sincere as he did last time but you still scoff.

“What’s the excuse this time?” When you turn to scowl at him he looks guilty.

“I was out of town on a work trip.”

“And you couldn’t answer your phone.”

“I forgot my charger at home.”

It’s a preconceived lie. You’re certain of it based on how quick he replies, and it’s not even a good one. He could have borrowed a coworker's phone or bought a new charger; it wouldn't have been difficult. But he doesn’t want you to know where he really was. 

Every bit of this confuses you. 

You saw something in the woods, but it wasn’t Joel? Joel was with Ellie and then he was with you, he couldn’t have been slaughtering lost hikers. It doesn’t make sense. One thing is for certain though, and it’s that you can’t break up with Joel until you know what's going on or more people are going to be killed by that thing you saw in the woods. You aren’t really sure what to call it, but you know that you found the thing that’s been killing. 

And he knows something about it. 

He had no reason to get as rattled as he did if he didn't know something about what you saw. So you can’t break up with him, not until you figure this all out. Until then you just have to play the part of a clueless, loving girlfriend. Which shouldn’t be too hard considering the fact that for some reason there is still a sick and twisted attraction to him despite everything you know, settling in your stomach. You bite your tongue, going the rest of the short drive in silence. When he finally pulls up to the camper the engine goes quiet as he turns the key. You had no intention of inviting him in but you won’t stop him if he follows. 

You slam the truck door shut, stomping up to the door, his footsteps following close behind. 

“Let’s talk about this.” He reaches for your arm as you’re unlocking the door but you just shove him off. You leave it open, kicking your shoes off as you slip out of your jacket as you flip on the lights. 

“I don’t want to talk.” He shuts the door behind him, you note that he locks it behind him. 

How presumptuous. 

Correct, but presumptuous. 

“You’re clearly upset, bunny.” He kneels down, untying his own boots before kicking them off. You glare down at him until he stands, trying to pull you into his arms but you just shove him away again. His eyes go wide as he takes you in.

Based on his reaction you really must be quite a sight. 

“Jesus, you’re a mess.” He looks genuinely concerned but you brush it off. 

“Thanks.” You scoff but when you look down you realize you’ve been leaving a trail of blood in your wake. 

“Do you have a first aid kit?” You should send him away. Tend to yourself and go to bed, but instead you just point to the cabinet containing the kit, sitting on the table as he retrieves it, tossing it down beside you. He doesn’t ask what happened, grimacing as he lifts your leg to examine your ankle.

He doesn’t need to ask, he knows what happened. 

He tends to your wounds in silence. You wince as he wipes the lacerations on your ankle, they look bad enough that you consider just going to the hospital but he doesn’t seem too worried. They’re just shallow enough that you don’t think you’ll need stitches. 

You don’t watch as he sprays it with antiseptic, quickly wrapping it in a layer of gauze and then bandages. 

When he’s finished you’re ready to get angry with him all over again but the moment you open your mouth to yell at him he grabs you by the chin, taking a clean piece of gauze and gently dabbing the thin cuts that litter your face. 

You stare up at the ceiling light, refusing to meet his gaze. 

He tends to every one of them, taking extra care as he smears ointment on each one. When he’s finished he takes anything bloodied and gathers it in his hand, standing to toss them into the bin under the sink. You don’t turn, but out of the corner of your eye you see him bring his hand to his mouth. 

Your blood.

He tasted your blood. 

You can feel the bile rising in your throat but you just swallow it back down. 

“Now we can talk.” He makes his way back over to you but you just shake your head. 

“I already told you, I don’t wanna talk.” 

“Bunny-” He takes another step towards you. 

“Shut up.” 

“Don’t be like that.” There’s real remorse in his eyes, you might even feel bad if you didn’t know that he was lying to you. 

“Shut. Up.” You push him so he stumbles back onto the bed. “I’m not crazy.” He props himself up on his elbows to look at you as you say it.

“I know.” He sounds almost apologetic. 

“Take your clothes off.” You mumble, already tossing your shirt to the side. 

“Are you sure?” 

You’re sure that he knows what’s out there in the woods and he isn’t telling you. 

“I am.” You kick your jeans off to emphasize your point. You know he won’t deny you this. Whatever sick, unexplainable force pulls you into his arms affects him as it does you. You don’t just want him, you need him. 

You hadn’t realized it until he’d disappeared again, but now you couldn’t be more aware. It’s as if your entire life you’ve felt wrong. You’ve been in a state of discomfort for as long as you can remember, like a vital part of you was missing. But you got used to it, and you learned to live with the odd sensation of never feeling like you're in the right place, nowhere ever felt like home. 

Joel feels like home, in a sort of twisted way. 

From the moment you first saw him everything cleared up. It was like you had finally found your center of balance, and when he disappeared he took all of that with him. 

This is more than just attraction. 

With that he tugs his flannel off, you grab the bottom of his shirt, impatiently pulling it up over his head, not wanting to look him in the eyes, you stare at his shoulders as you climb up onto the bed, straddling his lap. 

“I really think we should talk-” He starts again so you reach behind yourself, unclasping your bra, glaring at him as you let it drop.

“Then talk.” 

He looks at you like you’re something to eat. 

“That’s not fair.” He finally manages to pull his gaze off of your chest, looking you in the eyes, his pupils swallowing his irises leaving you to stare into the darkness of his eyes.  

“There’s nothing to talk about, you went away for work and you forgot your phone charger.” You reach between the two of you to remove his belt, tossing it behind him on the bed before trying to unzip his jeans. “It was just an unfortunate series of circumstances.” You grumble before lifting yourself off his lap so he can shove his jeans off.

He’s glaring at you now. Good. He should know that you’re challenging him. Everything from this point on is a game, you just have to catch him in a lie. You grind down against the straining fabric of his boxers, hands on his shoulders to balance yourself as you rub yourself against his clothed erection, drawing a hiss from between his teeth. Before you know it his hands are gripping the hem of your panties. 

“Go on Joel, rip them off. I know you’re plenty capable.” You say it like the accusation it is. He’s strong enough to do a lot of things, you aren’t sure if tearing a person in half is one of those things but you’re determined to find out. He knows what you’re implying but he does it anyway, grabbing the fabric on either side of your hips and easily tearing them to shreds. 

“You don’t know what you do to me.” He murmurs, leaning forward to press his forehead to yours. 

You do. 

He does the same to you. A carnal desire, your most basic human instincts are reduced to nothing the moment your skin is against his. 

You don’t waste any time, slipping your hand under the waistband of his underwear, watching his cock spring free, slapping against his stomach. You unceremoniously spit in your hand before taking him in your fist, watching his jaw go slack as you rake your nails against the underside of his cock, feeling him twitch in your hand. You keep your eyes trained on his face as you notch him at your entrance, tilting your head to the side as you hesitate. 

The veins in his neck jut out as you slide the head of his cock over your clit, hissing softly as you do. 

He’s purposefully showing restraint. 

He clutches the sheets, his knuckles go pale and you can’t help but wonder if he isn’t touching you because he’s worried he’ll hurt you. 

“Fuck me, Joel.” You lean forward, biting his stupidly plush bottom lip. He doesn’t move his hands from where they are and you can’t help but scowl against his mouth.   

He’s holding back. 

He knows exactly what you’re doing and he’s trying to prove you wrong. How long has he been holding back?

In one sharp motion you slide down on his cock, forcing an obscene moan out of yourself, but it isn’t loud enough to cover the ripping sound. Your eyes wander downward, his are rolled back but all you can focus on now is your torn bed sheets in his clenched fist. 

Holy hell.

“Fuck. Me.” You rasp out, lifting your hips again before dropping them back down. His head falls forward this time, his mouth latching onto your shoulder, muffling his growl.

You know that growl. 

“Fuck me or leave, Joel.” You take his face in your hand, roughly pulling him back so he’s eye to eye with you.

You heard that growl in the woods less than an hour ago. 

“You’re playing with fire, bunny.” He glares at you but you just stare right back. 

“I won’t say it again.” You give him one last warning and he finally brings his hands to your hips, with a grunt he lifts you up, slamming you back down on his cock, you can feel him brushing against your cervix as you cry out. 

At his age he shouldn’t be able to do that. 

He does it again, moving you like a ragdoll up and down on his length, a lewd squelching fills the air, egging him on. He tilts his head down, his teeth scrape against your breast, and you can hear a roar building in his throat. He fucks you like a fleshlight, moving you effortlessly up and down on his cock, your chest bouncing with each thrust.

He shouldn’t be able to do any of this.

Neither one of you speaks, you can feel the camper swaying ever so slightly as he slams into you, thrusting his hips up to meet yours as he pulls you down onto him. 

He makes it look effortless. 

Another growl rips through the air and you know neither one of you is gonna last long if he keeps going at this pace. He hammers into your sensitive spots with every thrust, your clit rubbing against the dark curls along his pelvis.

He’s merciless with the force at which he moves you, he’s started nipping at your shoulder and you know he’s close as they get harder and harder. You finally feel him break the skin and just like that he’s lifting you off of him, his mouth clamped down on your flesh, you feel his cum between your legs as he finishes on your folds. The sensation of him slipping out of you sends you over the edge right along with him, your stomach tightening as you groan, letting your head fall forward onto him.

You feel better already. 

Not good, just better. 

He manages to keep you both upright for a few more moments before collapsing down on the mattress with you in his arms. 

And then it’s just quiet.

Until the mattress squeaks as you get up. Wiping yourself off with a towel and turning the lights off before returning to bed without a word. He’s the one who finally breaks the silence.  

“If you want me to leave, I’ll leave.”

 “You can stay.” You mumble, rolling over to face away from him. 

It’s better if you know where he is. 

That’s what you tell yourself. 

It’s easier to swallow that excuse than the truth, that you can’t shake the terror from your encounter with the creature and now amount of fucking is going to change that. You don’t want to be alone, no matter how angry you are. He doesn’t seem to take the hint though, snaking his arm under yours and pulling you to his chest. 

You start to push him away but you feel a wave of calm wash over you when he does so you just settle back against him. You close your eyes, praying sleep might come but all you see in the darkness is that open maw closing in on you. 

You know that growl. 

It isn’t Joel. It can’t be Joel, he was with Ellie and then he was with you. 

It wasn’t Joel.

You’re more than used to waking up in the woods at this point. Monsters and men torment you in your dreams whenever they get the chance to. 

But tonight is different. 

You don’t feel the cold, wetness of the forest floor on your back before you open your eyes. Instead you only feel steel, you make an attempt to sit up on instinct but you can’t. In a panic you open your eyes to find yourself cuffed to the cadaver carrier from Marias basement. 

This can’t be happening. 

This is the kind of dream you get after your first body. 

You’ve had this dream, years ago when you’d just started studying mortuary sciences. Although now it feels worse, more ominous than it had previously. 

That probably has to do with the fact that you can’t move. 

In response to that petrifying thought you begin to uselessly tug on the cuffs, your ankles and wrists attached to the cold unforgiving steel of the table you’ve sewn countless bodies back together on. 

You don’t strap cadavers down, there’s no need to. 

The door swings open and you’re thankfully able to sit up enough to watch Maria and Joel walk in, solemn looks on both of their faces. 

You open your mouth to call for help but something stops you.

No.

No, no, no.

Your jaw is wired shut. 

The sudden realization makes you gag as you shake the table with the force of your panic. 

Maria is always thorough, your mouth is full of cotton.

They act as if you’re as lifeless as any other corpse as they stand beside you, despite your muffled screaming, tears immediately flowing from your eyes as you feel your throat constrict around the cotton.  

“What happened to her?” He sounds so far gone even though he only stands a few feet away. 

“You know what happened to her.” Marias sorrow turns to a look of resentment as she turns to Joel. 

“Bear attack.” He says it more to himself than to her. 

“Keep telling yourself that.” 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“You never do.” Her voice is full of a hatred you haven’t ever heard in reality. 

She looks at you with a pity you’ve had on your own face before. It’s the same look you give every corpse on a table.  

You follow Maria’s gaze down at your body and find your chest sliced open, the inside dry. 

And then you wake up. 

Of course Joel is there when you sit up in bed with a strangled cry, a fresh flood of tears falling down your face. 

“Bunny?” His groggy, sleep ridden voice resembles a growl, sending you backwards away from him, your back hitting where the mattress meets the camper wall. He’s already up, he moves towards you but the moment you flinch away from he stops. “Are you okay? What hap-“

“Don’t come any closer.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Thankfully he doesn’t move towards you, he holds his hands up ever so slowly. He’s acting like you’re a cornered animal. 

You can’t seem to find your voice. Every single logical and rational part of your body and mind tell you to get as far away from him as possible. To fight tooth and nail to get past him, to run away and never look back. You’d never get away with that though, he’s too deeply rooted in you already. He’s made for you. Sculpted by the gods to be everything you’ve ever wanted all in one neat little salt and pepper package, served up to you on a silver platter.  

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, you’re okay.” He inches forward a bit but the way you pull your legs up against your chest, trying to make yourself smaller makes him move back. “It’s okay, it’s just me.” 

Yeah Joel, that's the problem.  

a/n : i have such mixed feeling abt this chap but whatever i really like it so ?? idk

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[steviewashere]

My Eyes Are on Me

Rating: General CW: Steve is really unkind to himself here Tags: Post-Canon, Post-Season 4, Established Relationship, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, (The comfort is minor but is there I promise), Insecure Steve Harrington, Body Issues, Steve Harrington is a Mess, Breakdown, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Scar Insecurities, Scars, Devotion, (Steve Could Be Seen With Body Dysphoria Here But Take That With a Grain of Salt)

💛—————💛 He walks into the bedroom. Stopped in a curious stupor at what greets him.

Steve’s standing at the mirror. Shirt pooled around his elbows. Right thumb gliding over the crooked edges of his demobat bites. They’re palm sized. His stomach is pale and the bites paint themself a warm pink mauve over his lower abdomen. The tender and scarred skin protrudes from the rest of his body, healed incorrectly, and kissing the calloused skin of his thumb easily. His eyes are downcast at his reflection. Watching his own caressing. He frowns at a particular ridge in the skin. Thumb twitching away from where he touches. But his eyes don’t move from their focused spot. Squinting. Eyebrows furrowing. He swallows harsh enough that Eddie sees his neck flex with the movement.

“I thought that they’d match better,” Steve murmurs sadly. He looks up. At Eddie over his shoulder. “I’m sure that my back doesn’t look much better.” Then, he pulls the shirt back over his head. Pulling it down, down, down over his torso. Disguising his back from view.

Eddie blinks. Sliding his sight to where Steve’s back is now covered. “I didn’t really look,” he admits. “Not really something I was focused on just now.”

In response, Steve hums. “I know,” he whispers, “Could feel you watching me.” He turns away from the mirror, finally. Facing Eddie. There’s several feet of distance between them. Eddie feels as though he’s too far away, but doesn’t want to intrude any further than he already has.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I just…Honestly, I don’t know what I was doing.”

Steve shrugs and moves towards the end of his bed. Sits down and falls backwards. Sprawling over his comforter. The bottom of his t-shirt pulls up. Part of his scars show. But he doesn’t move to cover them again. “It’s fine,” Steve mutters. He runs a hand over his chest. Settling his palm over his heart. “At least you were just watching, I guess. Not saying shit.”

Cautiously, Eddie comes closer. Sprawls beside Steve on his bed. But keeps his gaze at the ceiling, just as Steve is doing. “You’re eye candy. My eyes were just drawn to you. I didn’t mean anything negative by it,” he explains. “You say people are talking about your scars?”

“It’s not important, Eds. Don’t worry about it.”

“Hey,” Eddie softly objects. He turns his head to look at Steve. All he catches is his side profile. “I have scars, too. In fact, mine are way worse than yours. If people are giving you shit about yours, you can tell me. Besides, it’s always important if it makes you look at yourself like that.”

Next to him, Steve swallows heavily. Probably realizing he’s been caught. Eddie doesn’t like the way he sees his sunshine’s face screw up. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Baby,” Eddie sighs. “You were all…How do I say this? You were…disheartened. Like looking at yourself was disdain in its finest form, y’know?”

Steve scrunches his t-shirt where his hands had been pressing. “Maybe I am,” he mutters, “But it doesn’t matter. Just something I’m gonna have to get used to.” He runs his hand down to the hem of his shirt. Fingers teasing the idea of running against his skin. “Just like I got used to the nightmares. And the fear. And the panic.”

“You shouldn’t have to get used to any of that, Steve,” Eddie states emphatically. “You should be able to talk about it. And be heard. And like…Like feel good in your life!”

A hand presses into Eddie’s forearm. He looks down and spots the palm that Steve had on himself. When he looks back up, Steve’s eyes are locked with his. “Eds, babe, I appreciate what you’re trying to do right now. Really, I do. This isn’t something that’s going to get fixed overnight. It’s not something I see myself adjusting to in due time.” He sighs mournfully. “My scars are new to me. I’ve never experienced something like them before. Maybe the tiny ones I’d get on my knuckles or when I would hit my head, but the back and stomach are fresh. I…I don’t like feeling bad about myself. I know that I feel bad about myself. But I can’t just shut that off.

“I’d like to,” he admits, his eyes downcast at his hand on Eddie’s skin. “One day, I’d like to pull my shirt off and be confident in myself. To look at the difference and say how proud I am. But I just…Can’t. I’ve been good looking. I’ve been attractive. I just don’t feel that way right now.”

“You are, Steve,” Eddie urges softly. “You are so attractive.”

Steve’s smile is small and quick, but it’s there. He squeezes Eddie’s forearm. “Thank you, I appreciate that, Eds. But it’s going to take me a while to realize that you’re telling the truth. Like…I’m not doubting that. I’m not disproving that you feel that way. It’s not computing, though. Do you get it?” He doesn’t like that he understands. His body being a fixture of his self doubts a lot now. But he nods. He nods because Steve is seeking that comfort within him. The understanding that he’s being heard. That Steve’s allowed to feel this way. Even if it destroys Eddie. “You know how…How when we have sex I don’t like having the lights on?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, I do,” Eddie answers. Again, his voice is soft. Teetering with an uneasy sadness. He knows all about this.

“One day we’ll have the bedside lamp on and you’re hands will be on my skin and I won’t feel bad for it,” Steve says. It sounds like a promise. Eddie lays his left hand over Steve’s. Where their palms lay over the forearm. “I won’t feel bad when you want to wrap your arms around me in our sleep. And I won’t feel bad when I want to cool down and have to take my shirt off. I won’t—“ He hiccups on a wet gasp.

And that’s when Eddie realizes that Steve’s gearing up to cry. He drifts his line of sight downwards, only slightly. Not making eye contact. Because the last thing he wants is for Steve to feel embarrassed about his emotions, too. But he runs his thumb over Steve’s knuckles. Just to have a point of contact. To have something to keep them grounded to the bed.

He takes another gasp. His voice wavers through his words. “I won’t feel bad when I take a shower. Did you know—“ Steve hiccups again. A soft cry leaves him. Eddie leans in closer. Resting his forehead to Steve’s hair. He bounces with another gasp. “—You know that I shower in the dark, Eds?”

“No, baby, I didn’t,” he murmurs.

“I do,” Steve keens, “I do, Eds. Don’t like what I see in the mirror or when I look down at the drain or when I have to wrap a towel around myself,” he continues to explain. His voice is high in the back of his throat. Turning sharp and on the edge of sour. And every part of Eddie is crumbling, dissolving into the mattress. But he doesn’t interrupt. Acknowledges with his touch and the firm press of his cheek on Steve’s head. But nothing more. Steve needs this out. “I don’t like feeling bad,” he’s confessing, “I don’t like feeling this way. Every time I look at myself, it’s like I’m burning. Like I’m on fire. Like I—Like something in me is trying to escape. Like it’s—Like my body is some sort of prison,” he spits. He sucks in a harsh breath. With it, his saliva. A heavy gulp. It’s all pouring out. It’s seeping from him. Eddie can almost taste it. A despair. And through this all, Steve is on the precipice of sobbing. It’s inching closer and closer. The sharp pull of wailing in his chest. “I’m so—“ He groans. “I’m so tired of this, Eddie. I’m so tired of being this way and feeling this way and…and…and looking the way I do. I’m so tired of it—I’m so—“

And then, the sobs come. Wet and burbled from inside of him. Like punches from his mouth. Blowing between his teeth. His air hissing as he tries to bite his tongue. But when he realizes the overcoming pressure rising from inside of him, he opens his mouth, tongue and teeth and all his pink insides, and the sobbing turns to screaming. To wailing. A mourning.

Eddie’s own eyes are wet. He can’t take this. Can’t see Steve like this. A shadow, a shattering thing, something small and fragile and tipping, tipping, tipping. He wants to crumble everything he knows. Wants to go to God, surprisingly, wants to bang on his doors, wants to scream and hiss and spit at him. Wants to ask: “What did you do to him? Why did you make him feel like this?” Because this isn’t fair. This isn’t fair, the way Steve is dissolving and Eddie isn’t. Because, for once in his life, Eddie is comfortable in his own skin. But somebody like Steve, his wonderful and beautiful Steve, is doubting himself. Doubting his looks. His confidence. The things he used to take pride in.

So Eddie gently asks, “Can I hold you, Stevie? Is it okay to touch you?” His chest hurts—a rock hitting his ribs kind of hurt—at the smallness in Steve’s nod.

He wriggles his right arm under Steve’s torso, over his t-shirt, ignoring the way it pulls up to expose Steve’s bare back. Pulls him into the warm line of his own body, turning Steve to be chest to chest with him, and wraps the other arm over Steve’s back. Holding to him tightly. Gently guiding his head into the crook of Eddie’s neck. Letting him wet the skin there. With snot and tears and words. Some akin to: “I’m ugly, Eds.” And others akin to: “I’m wrong. I feel wrong.”

There isn’t anything he can say to soothe this. He’s not sure there are words to say. Other than what he knows. “I got you, sweetheart,” he mutters into Steve’s hair. “I’m right here, love bug. Get it out,” he whispers, “you can be angry and sad, it’s alright.”

Eddie doesn’t move his hands. Doesn’t let them drift to bare skin. The only instance in which he moves either of his palms is to thread one through Steve’s hair. To pet and hold. To untangle the knots in his, now noticeable, unwashed and unbrushed hair. And all he can do is keep Steve to him. His arms limp on Eddie’s body. His back arching with each cry. His nose wet and his cheeks warm and his throat raspy and raw.

The crying gets hoarse after some several minutes, Eddie begins to realize. Steve droops further and further into where their bodies meet. Crying growing into just whimpering into just small hiccups. He doesn’t move his head. Doesn’t say anything. Just stays stuck in where he is.

“I’ve got you, angel,” Eddie breathes. “We’ll be alright.”

Steve releases one more soft cry at that. Then, he murmurs, “Thank you.”

Eddie pulls him in tighter. “No, baby, don’t do that. You don’t need to thank me and you don’t need to apologize. But, can you do one thing?” Steve hums at that. “I want you to listen to me, alright? Just listen to what I have to say, that’s all.” At his nod, Eddie continues. “I believe that one day you won’t feel bad at all. And I also believe that you’re still beautiful despite what you think of yourself. And, before you try and protest that, I’m devoting myself to you. I’m going to tell you every single damn day of the rest of our lives that you are beautiful and gorgeous and pretty. And you deserve to feel good.

“That’s a lot, I know that’s a lot. But I’m telling you the truth. Because you do deserve to feel good. I will help you with that. Whatever you need, I’ll give that to you. You understand that, sweet thing?” He pulls back a tad. Their eyes on one another’s again. Steve looks so exhausted. Wrung out. Defeated. But still, he gives a terse and single nod. That’s enough, though. That’s all that Eddie needs. “Okay,” he mutters, “okay, Steve. What can I do right now?”

Steve sighs and closes his eyes. When he reopens them, they’re clearer and softer. Still tired. Still bloodshot and wet. But they have the smallest amount of determination to them. “Just lay with me for a while. Hold me like this, please?”

He presses a long, warm kiss to the crown of Steve’s head. Murmurs, “Of course. Anything. I’ll do anything to help you feel good.”

There’s a long road ahead. But Eddie will always find the words to tell Steve how gorgeous he is. With every moment in their lives together. And then some. Always then some. 

💛—————💛

[liyawritesss]

ᴍɪʟᴇꜱ ᴍᴏʀᴀʟᴇꜱ [ꜱᴘɪᴅᴇʀ-ᴍᴀɴ] ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ

Characters: Spider-Verse!Miles Morales [Spider-Man]

Type: headcanons

Synopsis: general thoughts and headcanons for everyone's favorite afro-latino spiderman!

Warnings: some cursing but overall no warnings. KEEP IT CUTE AND PG-16 CUZ THIS IS STILL NEPHEW WE TALKIN BOUT HERE!!!

A/N: went to see atsv and i’m absolutely floored by that movie…it’s definitely giving me new material to write abt and a new hyperfixation so buckle up yall cuz the next few posts are gonna be all spiderman related!!

Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @venusdraco @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @lulu-network @niyahwrites @pantherheart @marsfunzon22

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First off I wanna say this is my SON, and on everything i love i will throw hands over him, if anybody wanna try it prepare to be demolished cuz I will NOT spare you. This is a lil boy ion wanna see none of yall sniffin around him period. I will gladly held you find your mind if you wanna lose it today!!!

Okay, no that that spiel is over, we’ve got some headcanons to address about everyone's favorite afro-latino spiderman

He’s so precious. Idc if you know already I’m telling you again, he is the most precious thing in the world. He has a heart of gold and wears it on his sleeve, he’s always looking out for people and wants to see the best in everything and everyone. Which, while it is a good characteristic to have, can sometimes put him in tough situations, and sometimes it doesn’t end well.

He’s such a momma’s boy, but like the good momma’s boy where he adapts the things Rio teaches him and repays her by being a good filial son, even though he’s growing up and wanting to branch out. If he’s having emotional trouble, he’ll come to her to try and figure out how to express himself and understand how he’s feeling. On special occasions, or just when he notices her mood is off, Miles will conspire with his dad to do something small but special for his mom, like make breakfast or drop off flowers at her work. She’s always super appreciative of it too

Waking up for him is hell in the morning, because he is not a morning person at all. It’s worse if he went on patrol the night before (which, 9/10, he has) and he almost always sleeps through his alarm. He’s the type to have to have several alarms set to get up up, because otherwise he will sleep through the day

Similarly, Miles also finds it hard for him to sleep most nights. In the beginning of his career being Spiderman he would almost never go to sleep really. Even the trick of using nyquil or melatonin gummies didn’t work because his mind was always on one hundred, thinking about everything and nothing all at once. Though as he meets friends he can confide in and grows older he learns how to manage that kind of stress, which makes it easier to sleep. Though the insomnia never truly leaves him unfortunately, and its something he has to take with him for the rest of his life

Despite his introverted self, and the fact that he tends to want to keep to himself more often than not, Miles is actually very easy to talk to and if given the time and patience, great at making friends. He’s awkward at first because he wants to measure his interactions based on the vibe of the person he’s talking to, but you will find a hardcore loyal and caring friend in Miles.

So emotionally aware that it almost hurts. He’ll be upset and know why he’s upset, but sometimes wishes he didn’t know because in some situations he may not think his emotions are valid. And because he’s such an intentional person and a hyper empath, everything he feels is multiplied by ten. So if you fuck him over, he’s probably more upset about it than you’ll ever be if you were upset at fucking him over, if that makes sense?

He’s a cuddle-bug and nothing will change my mind about it! He had hella teddy bears as a little boy and would get upset if Rio took them to be washed because he was afraid he wouldn’t see them again. For no reason in particular he’s slowly dissipated his teddy bear collection and now uses a very fluffy body pillow to hold on to as he sleeps. Sometimes if he’s sick or just very down in the dumps and Rio notices, she’ll climb into bed with him for a while and comfort him

A decent cook actually as well! He was always in the kitchen when his mom and his tia’s came over to cook so he knows how to throw down in the kitchen a lil bit. His favorite thing to make is tamales because while the process may be tedious, it allows him to unwind and clear his mind while focusing on the preparation of them.

Miles’ is the type that when he goes into the store he will always, without fail, buy a new notebook/sketchpad. He may not even need it, he may already have like ten new ones he has yet to break in, but he always likes to stay prepared for when his current one runs out. He also likes to alternate between them or dedicate certain notebooks to certain muses or drawing preferences

Will squeak out of surprise and say something in spanish if he’s startled or scared. And I’m talking like a girlish squeak and it's so cute but he’d be so embarrassed, cuz why did you have to sneak up on him like that? He was doing perfectly fine til you wanted to give him a heart attack.

On the topic of spanish, he isn’t that confident in it so he doesn’t really like to speak it if its not with his family, because he just knows he’s gonna fuck it up. So if he feels like there's pressure in a conversation where he knows he’s going to have to speak it at some point, he’ll try to back out before that happens

Miles gets so fascinated with things all the time. It happens mostly when he’s either strolling through the neighborhood or he’s on patrol. Definitely checks himself out in the glass of skyscrapers…then promptly remembers that there are people behind said glass that can see him and hurriedly swings off. And if a new pair of Jordans have been teased? Best believe he’s doing all the chores and buttering up his parents so that he can get them as soon as they drop

Speaking of Jordans; this boy is such a sneakerhead it’s insane. His dorm room AND his room at home are full of shoe boxes he has yet to style with some clothes. Keeps telling his parents “I’ma wear ‘em, I’ma wear ‘em!” but he never has the time to cuz he’s too preoccupied with being a good student and Spiderman to prioritize style over comfort (even tho he do still be fresh n clean)

He’s also the best bestie to have. Texts you tiktoks, checks in on you at seemingly always the right time. If you go to school together then you know you’re hanging out after classes. And if you need help in the sciences, Miles is the best tutor ever. And his family loves you, so birthdays, christmas and other holidays, if you’re not already celebrating with your folks, if you don’t fuck with them like that, or if you don’t have a real family, he’s inviting you over his place all the time so that you never have to feel alone.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

[gamerbearmira]

heya again <3

so...i got some more giftless grandkids thoughts here, written in bullet points because my brain just kept going AHAHHAHA

I’m currently listening to the vocal mashup of the grandkids of waiting on a miracle while im going through the giftless grandkids tag as im taking a break from other aus, it’s very fun and sets the mood somehow AHHAHHA

I’m really glad they have each other and are thriving even without their gifts, and they likely already got used to not having gifts and wouldn’t care, and that’s so real of them

The mashup is making me think of some things tho, ngl AHHAHAH

But anyway, yes, I currently have many thoughts

Was thinking about the reasons for why Casita would crack and fall, considering the kids are close with each other here and the adults (minus Alma oof) are all there supporting them, Bruno included since he never went to the walls

And as I read some of your posts and think about it more, it makes sense

There are several main things that would make Casita crack here—aka the family themselves cracking—would be:

Ofc, there’s still Alma’s pressure on the triplets and her confusion and unintentional hurt towards the grandkids

Most likely how Julieta is hiding the big secret on why they didn’t get their gifts and also their doorknobs

Another is how Pepa and Bruno are also hiding the vision tablet from everyone but specifically Julieta

Still trying to think of other reasons, but those are the main ones, I think

In canon, Bruno had been patching up the cracks, which definitely helped Casita stay up longer, but he never went to the walls here, so how would Casita and the family last until a little after Antonio’s ceremony (assuming we’re still going with something similar to canon timeline)?

Here is where the kids’ good relationships come in, their love and care are helping hold things together, even without Bruno repairing the cracks

The process of Casita cracking would be slower here compared to canon

So what happens when the kids—the main reasons for Casita still being able stand—are faced with the revelation that they could have gotten their gifts back then? Could have possibly avoided a lot of heartache and ridicule and disappointment from the people around them? And the reason they didn’t are because of the adults? Because of Julieta?

They hyperfocus on the bad parts, overshadowing the good parts because its an intense and shocking moment and revelation for them, I think

In the moment of the revelation, that’s likely going to upset them, maybe even break them a little, because why? Why did they—? 

Of course, they’ll later have the full realization that they grew up happier without the gifts, but again, that’s later

Also, pretty sure they focus more on the fact that it seemed like the adults they trusted lied and deceived them in a sense, almost like a betrayal (except ofc its not)

This, too, would connect to how Julieta says in that one giftless grandkids art of yours, “I didn’t want to hurt them—to hurt anyone.”

And then, with the love faltering for a moment, that’s how Casita falls apart

Also, why am I imagining the kids finding the vision tablet that Pepa and Bruno are likely hiding, making them realize what Julieta is hiding, which then starts the realizations, arguments, and full-on cracking of Casita?

This would then parallel canon with Bruno’s vision too

This means we get to see all the kids trying to figure things out together too

After everything, I can really see Julieta and the rest of the adults gifting the kids their doorknobs again as a surprise—which they will later use to get their gifts too AHAHHAHA YEAHHH

Anywho, ye, just some thoughts I have hehe <33

Literally listened to that bop today so real 😭😭

ANYWAY. Y'all might not now, but Mic here as been helping me in world building for this au 🤭🤭 its gonna be one of the next fics I do, since Mamabel and Werewolf are finished (will be updating today after I finish Mama Isa. And if my wifi will let me <\\\3)

ANYWAY THESE IDEAS?? ARE SO RAD...Triplets being in the spotlight because the grandkids have no gifts, its so sad. But honestly, Alma is just pushing them because she needs to prove that the miracle is ok. Implying that the kids did something. Subtle, but whatever.

Also, the kids are like Mirabel in canon, constantly trying to prove themselves and helping out around town. Meanwhile there's a certain group of villagera who don't even like them. Not all the villagers, but definitely a good chunk. There may or may not be a rather crude mural somewhere in town out of the way. But there :(

But anyway. The kids do have hobbies relating to their gifts! The husbands, feeling guilty, gave the kids presents, gifts to give them something to do since Alma couldn't "assign" them anything (which they were grateful for).

Isabela got some gardening gloves and tools, and is really into gardening and farming, and is always tending to her garden or helping out with the farmers in town. She also tends to all the plants in Casita. Dolores loves to play music, and after Félix gave her first guitar, she was hooked. She has tons of instruments, and actually taught Mirabel to play the accordion; she helps with entertainment, like Camilo. Agustín got Luisa some dumb bells, she actually asked for them. She wanted to strong and still help out, and regulating exercises and mostly helps out with packing and loading or at the quarry.

Camilo was give some costumes and puppies, and he's been into performances and theater since. He also performs for the kids, and plays alongside Dolores often. Mirabel was given new sewing stuff. Instead of Alma teaching her most of what she knew, Agustín helped her, since he knew some, and she kept the fashion and crafts hobby up. She helps repair things around town, and does the occasional clothing repair. Antonio still is finding his hobby, but the grandkids know he really loves animals. They actually suggested Félix get him a pet. So what does he get him? A parrot. Antonio loves that parrot like no other, and he's always around him, trailing behind Luisa.

DESIGNS 🌚🙏🙏 I'll post the family tree later, and maybe draw the triplets because their designs changed but me and Mic are still working in them. But the kids❗❗ Their clothes are very plain and dull, because the seamstress refused to make their clothes any fun. Even Mirabel can only embroider so much, and she rarely has time to do so cause she's so busy helping. But there's some subtle designs <33

Julieta really did and does mean well in this au, but drastic actions really do cause drastic results in some cases. Her pull those doorknobs was definitely drastic. While the kids are happier and aren't nearly as pressured, they feel inadequate, and like something is missing :(( And then there's vision tablet (that's like over 40 years old 💀), but that's a whole other can of worms.

ANYWAY. AO3 HOPEFULLY LATER MY WIFI IS :((( Also I'll be posting the finished storyboards for the WOOM animatic I'm working on, and then I'll also post the rough video put together with it. SHOUTOUT TO @thefourchimes FOR HELPING ME WITH THIS SHE'S SO COOL <333 should tote check out her aus, they're so cool. ψ(｀∇´)ψ

[bitchlessdino]

When We Didn't (m)

A SVTHUB COLLAB

Pairing: afab!reader x jihoon

Genre: fluff, slice of life, angst, smut

word count: 4.9k

tags: extrovert!reader, opposites attract, flashbacks, college au, slow burn, pussy drunk!Jihoon, slight exhibitionism, oral (f. recieving), fingering

Summary: Remember when we almost? But we didn’t. And now what, you’re gonna sit alone, underneath your barely standing Christmas tree and not expect me to sit next to you? Maybe we should’ve.

author note: make sure to check out all the other member this collab at this link or @svthub !

5 years ago

You scramble to get to the first class of the morning, thinking to yourself it should’ve been a crime to have classes before 10 am. It was the first day of freshman year and you were already late.

The lecture hall was packed to the brim seconds before classes would start. You’d scan the descending seats, hopeful for even a few inches of space. A faint voice starts to speak out next to you and looking down you see a man with utterly soft fairytale-like features. He initially stuns you at first until you realize he’s telling you there’s an empty seat next to him and you whisper to him plenty of words of thanks.

You settle beside him, taking out things from your backpack, throwing quick glances back at him, and eventually realize the severity of your consequences when you notice how you forgot to pack all the necessary items for your first day. “Fuck.”

The quiet man nonchalantly offers a pen, peeking through his specs. “Here.”

“Really?” You take it from his grasp. “Thank you.”

He nods and turns back mindlessly to his journal, preparing himself for the note-taking. After some more scrambling, you sheepishly poke at his shoulder and avert his attention back on you, seeing that awkward apologetic grin on your face. “I don’t want to bother you again, but can I have a sheet of paper?”

He nods, tearing one out and handing it to you the same way he had the pen, which you accepted graciously. “And…I didn't bring my textbook so–”

“I’m not tearing you pages from my textbook because you don’t have yours.”

“Not that,” you reassure, unsure whether he made a joke or if he actually thought you’d ask that of him, “If you don’t mind sharing, that’d be great. It’d only ever be for one time.”

The man sighs, begrudgingly pushing his book until it centers the both of you. “There.”

“Thank you,” you whisper and scoot closer to him, almost too close for comfort.

He pays you no mind for the rest of the time, even when you cross the invisible lines that were essential to common courtesy. He knew he just had to deal with it one day (which was far from the actual truth), and lucky for him, you knew how to be quiet for the most part anyway. The class came to an end eventually and he was grateful for that, he just had two more classes for the rest of the day. Picking up his belongings, you block off his path with a smile.

“Thanks again,” You bring out your hand for him to shake, “I’m Y/n.”

“Jihoon.” He answers plainly, barely reciprocating your gesture before getting up to follow everyone else through the exits.

You mouth his name as if committing it to memory and was quick to get a step behind him. “You should let me thank you sometime…Jihoon.”

“That’s not necessary.”

You halt in front of him before he could exit the doors. “At least a coffee. We are gonna be classmates after all.”

He sighs, avoiding those puppy eyes that come naturally to your golden retriever energy. He usually avoided people like you. People like you were draining, distracting, and he’d rather stay cooped up in his apartment rewatching Inuyasha for the thousandth time. 

Yet.

 “Just a coffee?”

Your eyes light up like the fourth of July. “And your insta?”

Present Day Christmas Eve

“But I wanted to celebrate Christmas with you,” You whine over the phone.

Your mother’s reassuring voice resonated from your phone. “Sweetie, you’re young and able-bodied, you’ll find something better to do than hanging around two old coots.”

“Well, you old coots have a one way trip to Hawaii, how will I top that?”

It turns out your parents hit the jackpot on some bingo night at the community center and would be traveling without you. No doubt, it hurt that you wouldn’t be going, but it hurt more that you wouldn’t be with your family since you spent pretty much every Christmas with each other. It was like things were changing before your eyes. You were growing older and older and you weren’t their little kid anymore. You were on your own.

“There’s always next year, sweetheart.”

You sigh defeatedly and hang up before trying someone else. The dial tone became an incessant noise in your ear after several attempts of contacting your friends. The messages blew up soon after rejection and apologies. Who knew on the Eve of Christmas no one would be available? (Of course, you knew but it couldn’t help to try).

“Y/n, I’m sorry.” 

Groaning into the phone in frustration, almost sobbing into the phone about to hear another rejection come from a loved one’s lips. “You’re kidding.”

“This is me and Mingyu’s first Christmas together. Maybe try Cheol? Yeri? Joshua?”

“They’ve been talking about their alps for months!” You slump in your loveseat and whimper into the cushions. You could hear your friend’s sigh of pity on the other line. “Come on, there has to be one other person in your same predicament.”

“I don’t know about that.”

You've gone up and down your contact list, almost closing in on coworker numbers, and acquaintances, including a hookup that slipped his number in your phone without looking. Even that sounded tempting at this point. Lucky for you, you weren’t that desperate.

There was one last person you thought to call though. They’re also the first person you thought to spend Christmas with besides family. A person that you thought could spend all your time with. The question was whether he wanted to spend such a holiday with you. 

Sometime after your first encounter

Jihoon planned to continue his quaint life as a college student, but you didn’t make it easy. Despite the lack of assigned seating, you made sure to take the seat next to him every day, waving at him when you enter the classroom after him a beat later. You made sure you wouldn’t come to class late again just to sit next to him.

“Hi, desk mate—I mean Jihoon. See I remembered.”

He sees you take your seat, settling in on the fact that there was pretty much his designated seat now no matter how early he arrives, “Hey.”

Taking his things out of his bag to be blindsided by you who pushes packaged convenience food in front of him. “Breakfast!”

“You said it’d only be coffee.” He points out a matter of fact.

“I did.” You point to bottled expresso. “Right there. Everything else is interest.”

He sighs, taking the coffee and stuffing it in his bag. “I’ll just take this. Thanks.”

“Come on, you’ll be hungry later.”

He flips through pages of his textbook, happy being using it alone, “I’ll survive.”

You somehow became a thorn in his side seeing you routinely and he made no effort in changing that. Where he was, you went. You made yourself nearly impossible to avoid. Over time, he found himself relying on you because of it. Though he found you a nuisance at times, it wasn’t all bad. You were chirpy and clingy, but that proved yourself to be useful at times.

“Shit!”

Jihoon never runs for a few reasons: it’s tiring, he gets sweaty, and he gets red. Really red. So, being tardy to lectures was not on the agenda, until the day he had no choice.

He burst through the lecture hall much like your first day, late for the first time ever in his life, he blames it all on his dorm mate that came home drunk and insisted on him dancing with him in the middle of the common area for no reason and cleaning up his puke soon after (yeah maybe his roommate’s name rhymes with toonyoung). 

He tries getting to a seat inconspicuously as possible if any were available, and that’s when he hears your harsh whisper. Your hand waves him over and pointed at the seat next to you that had your backpack currently occupying it.

He sighs but nods at you in a quiet thanks before accepting the invitation. You grin from ear to ear watching him get in his seat and pass him a Pocari sweat, like some kind of guardian angel. “You’re a bit red. Have at it.”

He gulps looking back at the refreshment and accepts it before chugging half of it down in desperation. “Thank you.”

“There’s always more if you need it.” You lightly nudge him before directing your attention to the lecture.

He glances back at you, wondering how you always keep that optimistic smile on your face relentlessly, how you never grow tired, and he starts to think about what motivates it all. You were an average student like he is. What was there to smile about?

Class ends again like aways and much like other days, here you were following him like a newborn puppy. Most days he ignored you, but that day he didn’t bother trying. Instead, he felt a sense of gratitude. 

“Does this mean you’ll let me have your insta now?”

Not stopping in his stride, he flattens out his hand in your direction. “Phone.”

“Really?” You ask as happily as a child, already taking it out and unlocking it before handing it to him.

He immediately pulls up your contact list and adds himself in, his name as plain and straightforward as possible. He hands it back to you. “I put in my number. I don’t have Instagram.”

“That’s fine! I can call you all the time now.”

You try retrieving it before he pulls it away with an authoritative expression.  “Not all the time.”

“Alright, alright.” Finally grabbing hold and editing the name by adding a heart to the end. “So, what’s the rest of our day look like?”

Present day Christmas Eve

“Y/n.”

Your relationship with Jihoon now was hard to put into words. You were no longer classmates, and now you even wonder if you are even classified as friends. Your history was everything but nothing all at once. If you had a gun pointed at your head, your brain wouldn’t process the answer fast enough to save yourself. Just exactly what were you to each other? Better yet, what were you to him.”

“What’s up?”

He could hear your signature chipper on the other line, somehow weirdly nostalgic. “You called me.”

“I know, but it’s Christmas Eve, what are you doing?”

“Mmh, just, around.”

You scratch your head at his vague answer. Jihoon was indeed a man of few words but not that few. “You’re alone, aren’t you?”

Jihoon may have forgotten about the holidays coming around the corner and made no plans, but that was easy being the workaholic he was. He clears his throat, lingering in the awkward silence he’s put upon himself, “…Well—“

You shake your head at him as if he could see you, “Oh god, you are. I’m coming over.”

He could hear you rustling in the background, eyes rapidly blinking at his realization. “W-w-why?”

“Well, because.” You answer, the rattle of your keys heard through the phone.

He blinks, awaiting for other words to follow only for them to never do. “Because?”

“Yeah. Because.” You bite your lips, hoping he doesn’t hear how hard you’re smiling. 

“…Don’t you have plans?”

You hum, breaking out into that smile you tried suppressing. “I do. With you.”

Last year of college

“No.”

“Why the hell not?”

Jihoon was open about being a hermit. He didn’t make an effort to go to places like parties, clubs, or even school events. Not that he didn’t get invited, because he had plenty of invites, trust him. He just thought it was a desperate attempt for most people to do the inevitable: get drunk, get laid, or get embarrassed. 

“I don’t like parties.”

“But I’ll be there.” You tug his arm, pleading with him with your eyes.

He pulls himself away from your grasp. “More than enough reason not to go.”

“You love me don’t lie. I’m the light of your life.”

The unamused look on his face told you otherwise but despite the protests, you convince him somehow to come through. Never in this lifetime did he think someone could persuade him to willingly go to a frat party and now here he was with his peers, who were all drunk and out of their minds, including you.

You had plenty of drink, quickly becoming one with the music and atmosphere that almost worried the introvert. If you weren’t careful and he hadn’t been around, who knows what would’ve happened? Even if you had been annoying, you became tolerable, he desire no ill will disposed on you.

You cling to him harsher than you usually do, which he let happen. The stench of cheap beer and wine coolers staining your clothes and breath. Jihoon knew who could’ve been in a better situation, but at this moment it could’ve been worse. If not for you, there’d be more people coming up to him that he could help without pestering him to drink, play beer pong, or something of the equivalent. You were more than the perfect excuse to do no more socializing than necessary. So as far as he knew it, tonight should’ve been just fine.

“Jihoon…Jihoon…” You play chopsticks on his shoulders, imagining them as a big piano.

“What?” He answers, nudging you off him.

You drape your limp arms over him. Your hot breath tickles his cheeks, which on grew pinker from the body heat. “I’m like, super, fucked…”

Of course, the downside of all this was you were drunk enough on behalf of everyone else attending this party combined.

He rolls his eyes knowingly, a taut grin on his face as he tried helping you from falling over in your seat. “I know. I was there when you almost drank yourself to death.”

“But, but…I have a secret…shhhh, don’t tell anyone.”

He shrugs his shoulders, mindlessly tending and listening to the ramblings of a drunk college student. “Who would I tell?”

You stabilize yourself against him, cupping a hand to his ear. “To be honest…I like you a lot…”

He softly scoffs in disbelief. He pushes away sweaty strands of your hair away from your forehead before flicking it lightly, tossing you back with a giggle leaving your lips. “I see…Well, that’s a shame. I tolerate you.”

You pout childishly, latching to his bicep helplessly, “That’s okay...”

He pinches his nose, “…You reek of alcohol.”

“I should reek of you.” 

“That made absolutely no sense.” He says, playing dumb.

“It means…I want to kiss you.”

He didn’t like how that affected him. Even with his sobriety, he could feel how his heart’s pace match yours without delay. This awe-stricken gaze in your eyes he couldn’t comprehend paired with the sweet image of your puckered lips aiming towards his face. Why was he even a little bit tempted? 

His palm falls flat against your lips, protecting you, and maybe even himself, from a mistake waiting to happen. “…You’re drunk…You’ll forget all this next morning.”

And that’s what happened. After that night, you puked your guts out, holding on to the toilet bowl for dear life, and were knocked out soon after with the aid of Jihoon and your dormmates. You don’t remember a wink of that night, waking up the next day with a headache and Tylenol with water by your bedside. You don’t remember your drunk confession, or the way you openly threw yourself at him, nor the look in his eyes when you admitted it. 

Jihoon, however, remembered everything. It haunted him. He feared it happening ever again. He couldn’t like you and you weren’t supposed to like him. It was better off this way. Right?

Present day Christmas Eve

Although a lot of things changed, a lot still didn't. Jihoon still didn’t drink, but he had to have been drunk if you were actually standing in the middle of his apartment right now with a grocery Christmas ham and a carton of eggnog (the worst possible combination by the way). Your all too familiar smile woke up the pit of his stomach that was vacant when he last saw you. It brought back that same fear again. A part of himself wanted to close the door on you but every other fiber in being was resilient against it. 

So now here you were, heading to his kitchen, placing the eggnog in his fridge, and taking out the grocery ham from its packaging. “I’d have more food, but I was in charge of the ham and eggnog this year. The turkey’s less popular cousin and the season’s choice of drink: dairy…I obviously got the shorter straw. Ha-ha mom and dad.”

His eyes just curiously followed your every move, wondering what made you decide to be here of all places after all this time. You raid his cabinets like it's your own home, taking out a small sum of food he had, thinking to yourself that you could probably conjure up something appetizing. Otherwise, it was gonna be coke zero for dinner, which didn’t sound too bad at this point. “Thank god you have more than ramen in here. I was worried I was gonna have to throw you an intervention after visiting.”

“What are you doing here, Y/n?” He finally asks.

You look up from your busy hand and meet his eyes, still unreadable and solemn. “I’m celebrating Christmas with you.”

“Why?”

“Why not–Oh my god, you have a tree.” You approach his barely hanging tree that was only a foot taller than its owner. “This is…cute. Questionable how it’s still standing, but cute.”

He raises a brow, “Now, you’re insulting my tree?”

“I said it's cute, didn't I?”

Jihoon felt his lips twitch in an almost smile. “You’re annoying as always.”

“Nice seeing you too Jihoon.”

Last year in December 

“Funny. I thought you two would be going out by now, not, what’s his face, Wonwoo.”

You were often seen around the guy, chatting, laughing, and sympathizing. Wonwoo was part of your Latin History lecture and he knew how to keep you entertained. Rumor had it that you were seen spending more than platonic time together. It was almost the amount of time you were used to spending with Jihoon, if not more.

“Yeah, well. Up to them.”

Soonyoung looked back at his roommate with concern. Despite Jihoon having not said a word, His feelings for you were blossoming before Soonyoungs eyes and he finds his roommates wandering your presence. He felt the shorter man open up more because of you and maybe he could find his own happiness someday. 

It was all until Wonwoo came into the picture. Tall, handsome, and sensitive. Untouchable, compare to Jihoon. 

“He’s not even all that …okay, that’s a lie. I’m huffing copium right now, he’s gorgeous,” he admits as he scrolls through the spoken man’s instagram.

“What’s your point, Soonyoung?”

Jihoon lacked life in his eyes and if it was possible, Soonyoung could’ve heard his own heart shatter at the sight.

“Just..hang in there, buddy.” The blonde pats his peer on the back, and his ineffective reassurance goes unnoticed.

Whatever the hyperactive roommate meant was none of Jihoon’s concern. He was busy ignoring the erupting feelings he had for you. To make the matter worse, he had to deal with the fact that he perhaps lost the many chances to act on his feelings. For all he knew, Wonwoo could’ve been the real deal.

But then again, that wasn’t any of his business.

“Hey stranger,” You sit beside him in a place you were both familiar with. 

He smells the whiff of hot cocoa with a hit of peppermint emitting from your cup. It was your usual. You placed it next to his toffee latte, sweeter than what he’s used to, but free of charge thanks to Seokmin who oozed desire for validation. He convinced himself that it was the caffeine making his heart twitch. “Hey.”

“Excited for winter break?”

“That’s…a word to describe it for someone.” He veers back to his laptop, pretending to work.

“What no plans again?” You pester with a playful smile, leisurely sipping.

Jihoon simply shrugs. “No.”

This was your favorite time of year and you believed everyone deserved to have a good time on this specific occasion. Every year, you spent it with family, presents, and dinner, just cherishing everything you had to be grateful for. It was contrary to Jihoon who had spent alone every year since college. His family was thousands of miles away from him and a ticket to reach them would've cost a leg and an arm. This was a lonely season for him.

“How about spending the holiday with me and my family this year?”

He pauses his movement to look up at you, your smile lets his infatuation for you fester like a disease, grinning cheek to cheek in that cute way it does which was indescribably delightful. He could feel his heart swell, the sweat on his forehead pour, and the unsettlement of his legs shake. It was only some time ago he came to terms with his feelings but the truth of the matter was he was never good with feelings. They were too intense for him to understand and he knew that only meant immense disappointment in the end. He wasn’t willing to take that chance.

“I think you should be with Wonwoo.” He returns back to his screen, typing the same word over and over again, “Good reason to check out the lights they put out in town.”

You scoff, your heart swelling for an entirely different reason. “Do you really mean that? You really rather I spend Christmas with Wonwoo than with you?”

There was this look in your eye and sternness in your tone. He had never heard something like that come out of you before, but he couldn’t help it. Self-sabotage came out naturally at this point. You being hurt was only momentarily, he reassures himself. He was doing the both of you a favor.

“Yeah. I think that’s the best use of your time.”

“…Fine.”

You pick yourself up to leave, tears brimming your eyes before finally walking towards the exit where the windchimes followed.  The cold winter air hit you like a slap in the face, quickly drying the hot tears that came running down your cheeks. 

This was it for you. You were done trying. For good this time.

Present day, Christmas Eve 

When you insisted on helping him fix up his tree, you noticed how pretty looked under the Christmas fluorescent lights. He never realized that until now. Probably because he never had the chance. 

Your attention to detail was admittedly admirable. He was glad that part of you hadn’t changed. 

“I thought about this probably a thousand times, you know.”

“What?” Jihoon entertains.

You step down from the stepping stool to put it away after you gave the tree some finishing touches. Thank god for the popcorn in his pantry. “Spending Christmas with you. It was really hard to come here. And I'm not talking about several feet of snow I had to plow through to get here.” 

“Why would you do that for me?”

You scoff, finding it ridiculous how easily he ignores the obvious. “I don’t know. Because you’re my friend. You deserve a nice Christmas. I like doing things out of the good of my heart. Like I was gonna leave you alone? Again?”

“What about you? Didn’t you have anyone to celebrate with?”

You roll your eyes. “Not the point.”

“Seems like the major point.” He retorts, almost sounding amused.

You sigh, walking towards him, “Yeah, everyone else canceled on me, but I’m glad that out of everyone you were available.”

“So I was last choice?”

You furrow your brows. “No, god, could you drop it? ”

“Just why spend Christmas here then?”

“Because I like you!” You shake your body furiously as you threw a tantrum, close to pulling your hair out from the roots. “God, knows why? You’re cold, mean, and distant. You couldn’t be more disinterested and it’s infuriating.”

“Why like me then?”

You body goes limp, clenching your fist helplessly, “I don’t know. Sometimes you were nice to me. It felt nice. And I hope that maybe…that meant something. Then you’d go ignore me like I did something wrong…I never had to work for it before.”

You felt your head spinning in circles. You were too old for this shit. You weakly falling to your knees, Jihoon quickly following to meet your level. “H-hey–”

“I thought if I approached you enough maybe you’d like me back. No matter how hard I tried, you wouldn’t do anything! God, was I naive and stupid. I should’ve never had co—“

Jihoon leans forward and kisses you square center on your lips, stealing your words and breath away. The pressure of his plush cushion makes your frustration dissipate; his hand takes the side of your head, stroking you tenderly. He parts from you when he feels your body calm down, looking back into your eyes glistening in the tears you didn’t realize you had shed.

“Maybe they worked…so your methods weren’t all terrible.”

You were the quiet one for once. His rare smile perks up his face, eyes filled with love and sincerity. You gaze at him as he hugs your cheek with his hands and wipes your tears away with the pads of his thumbs. He embraces your shaking body, soothing your back with the cool palm of his hand.

“...You’re such an asshole.”

“I know. I’m sorr—”

You tug on his sweater to reclaim him, melting into his sweet warmth, finally. You were over the moon. It only took you roughly five years. You finally had him where you wanted and now you were never willing to let him go. Five years all worth the wait.

Present day, New Year’s Eve

“Mmh, hmm…”

“Are you sure you’re getting this all down?”

“P-positive.”

Jihoon chuckles at your disposal. The vibrations of his soft laughter vibrate through your core and are quickly followed by the harsh stripe guided by his tongue. His arms underneath and around your thighs had your legs pressed against his cheeks, thumb teasing the shape of your clit before he’s pinching it as he engorges on your warmth. You hold the phone away from you briefly to whisper a ‘good god,’ and return to the conversation at hand.

“And you’re making sure Jihoon’s going. How did you manage that?”

“Oh,” you chuckle nervously, “just some, mmh, convincing.”

“Knew you could do it. He always did have a soft spot for you. Well, let me know what exactly you do also because I’ve been trying to get him to DJ my wedding all year—“

“Oh…right,” you bit your lips when you feel Jihoon’s tongue fuck inside you, tasting your insides and spreading you open. 

His grunts were soft but coherent, exhibiting the satisfaction he was tasting inside you, sucking against your folds, dribbling his spit and your moisture all over his chin and neck. He can’t help but dig deeper, getting his nose in the action. He practically loses all his senses at this point, but he didn’t care; not that he couldn’t breathe, or how his heart pounded, or that you were on the phone with someone. You were worth the wait.

“Anyways, when are you coming?”

“Oh…soon…” You slur, hardly listening to a word.

Jihoon snickers.

“Great, because I know I said seven but since you’re bringing—“

Jihoon snatches the phone from you and puts the phone mic next to his swollen lips, “We’ll get there when we get there, Seungkwan.”

“Wait, Jihoon? You were with—wait are y’all l—YOU NAST—“

Jihoon hangs up before the younger man can finish, tossing the phone randomly somewhere on the bed, and is finally able to let you finish.

“B-baby…he definitely knows now…” you whine.

“Fuck, if I care. Just focus on me, hmm, you taste so fucking good.”

He brings your legs up to leverage you in the air. On his knees and your legs on either of his shoulders, he devours you ambitiously, fingers fucking your knuckles deep in until he feels you shake an earthquake. You shout his name without remorse, begging for more.

“I’m really about to cum, Jihoon. Please, can I?”

Your voice laced with honey, you look up at him with tears in your eyes, sweat beading down your forehead, Jihoon couldn't help but let you do whatever you want with him. “...In my mouth.”

He latched himself on you, tongue fucking your insides as he ran his fingers rampage along with it. Your hips twitch in his embrace until you're practically thrashing in bed, clutching pillows, throwing them aside, lacking almost all control of your limbs. When he comes back up to the surface for air, he’s wiping the mess on his face with the back of his hand.

“You’re a mess,” You laugh, heaving your chest.

“Speak for yourself.”

You snicker only to quickly be brought back to reality. “We do need to get those groceries though. Seungkwan needs them.”

He raises a brow at you, readjusting his legs to pin you by your wrist, that smile to first appear a few days ago not seeming to waver in the slightest. “Sounds like I haven’t tire you out enough.”

“Baby—“

“I have more work to do.”

Giggling, you feel him embracing your sweaty form beneath him, peppering kisses all over you neck and cheeks until the finally reach your lips, chasteful compared to the event just few moments ago. You smile against his kiss, “I guess we still have some time?”

He strokes your hair, kissing your forehead. “Of course, to make up for the times when we didn’t.”

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

SKZ DRABBLE-OT8

The one where honesty is always the best policy. Except when it isn't?

Or

Part One of the Twenty Second installment of the Skz!pack Prequel Series.

A/N: We're back, bitches. Buckle up.

Tags: SKZ, Stray Kids, Stay, OT8, skz!pack, skz!abo, poly!skz, omegaverse, skz x you, skz x reader, ot8 x you, ot8 x reader, bang chan, lee minho, seo changbin, lee felix, hwang hyunjin, han jisung, yang jeongin, kim seungmin, y/n, skz angst, skz fluff, skz drabble, skz imagines, skz reactions, skz scenarios, Skz!pack prequel, pack!prequel, prequel series

Genre: Angst, Light Fluff

Warning: Past Trauma, Fear of Thunderstorms

Title: Lie To Me; Part I

“So we can all agree that we’re struggling with this, yeah?” Chan asks, tapping his fingers along his glass in a sort of anxious motion, his expression serious. 

You can see the weight on his shoulders from across the table.

Minho takes a sip of his own drink and replies back casually, “Not me. I’m fine.” 

Changbin immediately scoffs and you snort, narrowing your gaze on the alpha leaning against the counter, your voice sharp as you retort, “You’re so full of shit. We all know you’re on edge. You and Changbin haven’t been at each other’s throats this much since we started dating.” 

Minho shrugs, but doesn’t offer a defensive quip in return, and that tells you all you need to know. 

He’s notorious for trying to act like shit doesn’t bother him, stubborn as a mule when it comes to keeping things ‘normal,’ but you know him too well by now, you all do. 

He’s just as uneasy as the rest of you. 

Changbin drums his fingers on the kitchen table, looking slightly annoyed. “It’s such bullshit that it’s even a thing in the first place.” He sighs, reaching up to run his hand once again through his already disheveled hair, and when he continues, his voice is softer. “But I can’t just keep ignoring him, you know? I’m going to go fucking crazy.” 

You and Chan nod in agreement, in understanding, and you find Changbin’s fingers under the table, wrapping them in the safety of your own and giving him a squeeze. 

“Trust me. Nobody gets it more, Binnie.” 

Minho sets his empty glass in the sink and approaches the table, leaning his hip beside Chan as he moves his piercing gaze between the three of you, lips pulled into a thin, stern line, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Moping about it isn’t going to do anything. We need to do something. Decisions have to be made.” 

Changbin scoffs almost tiredly from beside you. “So what, we just, cut him off? Forbid him from being around?” He narrows a glare on Minho. “That’s gonna fucking hurt a lot of people we care about, Minho.” 

Minho remains unyielding, holding the other alpha’s gaze. “If that’s what we have to do, at least until he presents, than yes.” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Chan holds out his hands between the two, as if worried one of them is going to leap over the table and go at it right here in the kitchen. 

With how on edge everyone currently is, they just might. 

He blows out a long, controlled breath through his nose, and sits back in his chair, still eyeing the two of them warily before he says firmly, “That’s not what anyone’s suggesting, Bin, okay? We just need to figure some shit out.” 

 “Yeah.” You nod seriously, your fingers still gripping a little bit tighter than necessary around Changbin’s forearm, his skin warm and flushed beneath your hold. You glance between the two of them, softening slightly. “I know he’s become an important part of our lives, of the pack’s lives, and we’re not trying to sever that or undermine it in any way. Minho-” You glance up at the other alpha, his expression unreadable. “-you can try to deny it all you want, but we know you have a soft spot for the kid. You’re not as impenetrable as you lead everyone to believe.” 

Minho’s chest rises and falls with a breath, and he looks away from your gaze. 

Chan sighs heavily. “So what the fuck do we do?” 

“Our alphas don’t like him around because he’s unpresented.” You muse, thinking hard, playing with the condensation on your empty glass as you go over options silently in your head. “Because of that factor, there’s no way to establish set pack order, too many uncertain variables, and alphas aren’t recognized for their love of the unknown.” 

Chan nods thoughtfully, steepling his fingers in front of his chin. “Right. But everyone else is okay with things being up in the air for now.” 

“So maybe.” Changbin cocks his head, eyes lighting up with an idea. “Instead of removing the kid from the equation until he presents, we remove ourselves.” 

“It’s gonna fucking suck.” You admit, glancing between them all. “But it might have to be done.” 

Minho scoffs beneath his breath, his fingers gripping the back of Chan’s chair until they turn white. “So what, we just make excuses every time the kid’s around?” 

“Basically.” Changbin stands up, dropping his used glass into the sink next to Minho’s, before he leans against the counter and crosses his arms over his broad chest. “We avoid interactions that involve him until further notice.” 

“Do we tell them?” Chan asks suddenly, eyes skimming over you all, looking for reactions. “The rest of the pack, I mean.” 

Changbin shakes his head, and you immediately reply, “No. Because word will get back somehow, and that’ll just make him feel worse about the fact that he’s not presented. And I’m sure he gets enough shit from the freshman at the dorms over that already. I’m not gonna add to that.” 

Chan nods in understanding, and Minho pops his jaw in open annoyance. 

“Keeping secrets is gonna fuck us over in the end, you know.” 

“You have a better idea?” Changbin challenges, as they glare each other down, and the tension in the room rises noticeably once more. 

“Please, try me right now, meathead, I dare you.” 

Chan sighs tiredly, and you stand from the table, glaring back and forth between the two tense alphas. 

Wisteria blooms warningly in the small kitchen. 

“Fucking knock it off, will you? This situation sucks enough already as it is. We don’t need the two of you coming to blows in the middle of the kitchen like two grade school kids who can’t control their temper tantrums.” 

Changbin drops his gaze, but Minho remains rigid beside you. 

You turn to him. 

“Min.” You lower your voice, your words firm. “It won’t be forever. And none of us are thrilled about this, but we’ve gotta think of the pack.” 

He flicks his dark eyes to you, but says nothing. 

A calming wave of petrichor replaces your scent in the air around you, and Chan’s fingers find Minho’s on the back of his chair as he says quietly, “C’mon, Min. It’s not us against you here. We’re on your side. Drop the hackles please?” 

Minho’s shoulders relax a margin of an inch, and his chest heaves with a deep breath, but he doesn’t look like he immediately wants to murder Changbin anymore, so you guess that’s as good as an answer for now. 

Footsteps sound, and Hyunjin appears in the doorway, features disgruntled, and lemony scent unusually bitter, as he quickly surveys the four of you and then pushes past to the fridge without another glance. 

“I wasn’t aware there was a meeting of the big bad wolves scheduled for this morning in the middle of my fucking kitchen.” 

Changbin cuts his gaze to the clearly annoyed omega sharply, watching with narrowed eyes as Hyunjin violently pours himself a glass of orange juice, slamming the fridge door shut for emphasis. 

“Who pissed in your cheerios?” 

Hyunjin levels the alpha with a glare, so unlike his usual self, and shakes his head, already headed for the door. 

“Forget it. I have a headache. Don’t let me interrupt.” 

He disappears without another word, and Changbin glances to the three of you in open disbelief. 

You shrug, just as lost as he is. “Hangover?” 

Changbin clenches his jaw, a muscle ticking beneath the tan, stretched skin. 

At the table, Chan sighs deeply. 

“Okay, so we might have to avoid two people for the time being.” 

*******

Hyunjin hasn’t said a word to you since your lab started twenty minutes ago. 

He took his seat in silence, he pulled out his supplies in silence, and now he’s taking notes-in silence. 

You give him another sidelong glance-probably the fiftieth in five minutes-and he sighs, voice irritated, but pen still writing, as he snaps out without looking up, “Stop staring at me.” 

You clear your throat and try to focus on your own paper. 

But when, in five minutes, your pen stalls in scratching out notes, and you find yourself back to staring at his side profile, lingering for a little longer than necessary, you know it’s no use. 

Hyunjin’s body tenses, his fingers whitening around his pen, as if he can feel your eyes on him once again, but before he can say anything a second time, you blurt out, “Are you okay?” 

His pen trails to a stop. 

And then he says, “No.” 

And goes back to jotting down notes. 

You fiddle with your own pen for a minute, warring over whether you should push him on this, the scent of lemons bitter in your nose, and then finally you ask, softer this time, “What’s wrong, Hyunjin?” 

His pen comes to another halt, and he lets out an annoyed huff of air from his nose, turning to face you as he arches a brow, anger flickering across his dark eyes. 

“You mean, besides the impromptu meeting of the Big Bad Wolf Brigade in my kitchen this morning?” 

You hold his gaze, not backing down in the face of his obvious agitation, and he sighs again, reaching up to rake a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots slightly, before he fires back with, “I don’t know, okay? I just feel-” He shrugs helplessly, throwing his pen down on the half finished page of notes in disgust. “-off.” 

You study him for another long moment, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, and then ask again, “Are you sick?” 

Hyunjin shakes his head jerkily. “No. I just-” He rubs at his temples with long fingers. “-don’t feel like myself.” 

“Okay.” You nod once, picking up your own pen once more and turning back to your notes, feeling slightly better now that he’s answered you. You scratch out another sentence before you glance sidelong at him. “Well, let me know if I can help, yeah?” 

Hyunjin stares down at the table, making no move to pick back up his own writing utensil, as the silence stretches between the two of you. 

Finally, he heaves another sigh and reaches for the discarded pen. 

He doesn’t look at you as he says defeatedly, “Movie night.” 

You hum beneath your breath, not looking up from your notebook, but your wolf chuffs in approval at the omega’s concession, before you repeat back in confirmation with a nod, “Movie night.” 

*******

“You are literally so fucking pretty.” 

Hyunjin scoffs at your words, but you don’t miss the slightly pink hue to his cheeks as he glances up at you where you play with his hair from his spot in the omega dorm’s large, communal tub. 

“Shut up.” 

“No, seriously.” You protest, letting the long, soft strands of his hair sift through your fingers, admiring the way the dark color shines in the soft light. 

“I know I’m pretty.” Hyunjin remarks flippantly, eyes blinking up at you innocently. He gives you a lopsided smirk. “How else do you think I bagged all you dumb alphas?” 

You lean down and flick some of the warm, scented bath water up into his face in retaliation and he splutters dramatically in response. 

“You’re right, because it’s definitely not your personality.” 

The omega glares at you halfheartedly, and you laugh, leaning over him to reach for the shampoo you had brought with you, pouring a dime sized portion of the sweet smelling soap into the palm of your hand. 

You begin to work the shampoo through Hyunjin’s hair, working it into a lather, your fingers scratching along his scalp, and he relaxes back into the touch, even though he’s still clearly pouting, arms folded across his chest. 

You lean over to catch his gaze, and he sticks his tongue out at you. 

“You have a great ass though.” You offer as a sort of olive branch, and Hyunjin rolls his eyes, but you see some of the dramatic offense from earlier fade from his expression at your words. 

“I know that. Obviously.” 

You hide a smile and go back to shampooing his hair. 

There is silence for several long minutes, your fingers working through Hyunjin’s hair over and over, as the omega grows more and more relaxed beneath your touch, sinking into the cooling water of the bath, and then finally, he says, “I’m sorry. About earlier.” 

“It’s fine.” You reply back easily, because it is, and then hum under your breath as you take your hands from his head, gesturing for him to hand you the cup resting on the side of the tub, “Time to rinse.” 

Hyunjin leans his head back, closing his eyes, and you rinse his freshly shampooed hair clean of all the suds, watching as the water turns clear, before you set the cup back in its spot. 

It takes him another moment to open his eyes, his head still leaned back on the lip of the tub in front of you, staring up at you from his reclined position with an unreadable look on his face. 

It’s your turn to stick your tongue out as you ask, “What?” 

He furrows his brow and shakes his head, sitting up again as he leans forward in the perfumed bath water. 

“Nothing, okay? I’m just being weird. Forget it.” 

You shift around the edge of the tub so you can meet his gaze again, expression going firm as you flick more water in his direction. “Nuh uh. That’s not gonna fly. Spill.” 

Hyunjin sighs-heavy and dramatic-and rolls his eyes heavenward, before he says with clear, awkward resignation, “I guess I’m kind of in love with you or whatever.” You giggle, and Hyunjin slides his gaze to you, lips pulled into a clear pout, eyes wide and dark. 

“What the fuck, noona? Is this how you responded to Changbin spilling his guts too?” 

“Nah.” You shake your head, still laughing, warm head to toe, as you lean forward and pull the plug on the now lukewarm bath water. “But I kinda said it first in that situation, so.” 

Hyunjin is still staring at you, wet hair plastered to his shoulders, and you decide to have mercy on him, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips before you stand to retrieve the towel. 

You give him a smile over your shoulder. 

“Baby, I’ve been in love with you since the moment you sat down beside me and introduced yourself during our first lab freshman year. And that’s never gonna change.” You fling the towel at him, holding out your hand to pull him up. “Now come on, let’s go watch a movie.” 

***************

Hyunjin is still grumbling-but dry and fully clothed-when you make it back to his apartment. 

“Fuck, I have a headache.” He complains, slumping down on the pile of blankets creating a makeshift nest on the couch. 

You stare at him for a moment, your wolf whining that something is off, but shaking your head, you give him an easy smile and head for his bathroom, calling over your shoulder, “I’ll get you some painkillers. Queue up the movie.” 

You’re digging through Hyunjin’s messy bathroom cabinets when you hear a knock at the door, some shuffling, and then the low tones of Hyunjin’s voice talking to someone. 

You’re sure it’s just one of the pack Hyunjin probably forgot to tell you he invited over to join in on movie night.

You perk your ears in interest, though you haven’t caught a scent yet, and head back to the living room, pain killers held triumphantly aloft in hand. 

“I found the-” 

Everything inside of you freezes, your words dying off, as you catch sight of a head of shockingly red hair peeking over the top of Hyunjin’s couch. 

Jeongin. 

“Oh, hey, noona!” Jeongin turns at your entrance, face split with a smile, eyes screwed tight, and it takes everything in you to not turn and run. 

Because while the wolf part of you is growling in unsure warning-antsy and nervous-the human part of you is very much begging for you to close the distance and take the red headed boy in your arms, pressing your nose to his hair and cuddling his warmth. 

It’s a war you’re not entirely sure can be won. 

“Oh. Hey.” You stutter out, carefully skirting around the couch where Jeongin currently sits, your eyes never leaving his face. 

You shove the painkillers into Hyunjin’s hand without really looking, and he pauses in picking a movie, looking at you sharply, and you’re sure he can smell the way your scent has suddenly gone haywire. 

“What-” The omega starts to ask, but before he can, you stumble over yourself, suddenly desperate to get out of there.

“I didn’t know you were coming, Innie.” You force a smile that you don’t feel, the words from this morning ringing loudly in your head, your blood whooshing in your ears. 

We remove ourselves. 

Hyunjin is staring at you like he knows something is wrong, but can’t quite figure out what. 

“Yeah, I invited him.” He finally says, and Jeongin’s smile has disappeared off his face. “Is that okay?” 

“Sure, sure.” You wave your hand, not looking at either of them, shoving your feet into your shoes with clumsy, numb fingers. 

Your wolf is snarling now, teeth bared, warning you not to leave your omega alone with an unpresented outsider. 

Your scent is sickly thick in your own nose as you make a dive for your keys and fumble with the doorknob. 

“I just forgot, I have something tonight. I’ll see you guys later, okay? Another movie night. Rain check. Have fun though.” 

Hyunjin’s lips have pursed into a thin line, and Jeongin looks openly hurt-large eyes wide and dark-but you force yourself to ignore them both, and not waiting for a reply, hurry out the door. 

You breathe easier-out of the apartment, away from the two boys-and as you take the steps two at a time down to the lobby and shove open the doors of the omega dorm, you take in a deep, gasping inhale, slowly letting it out as you head off down the sidewalk, away from the building. 

Your heart slows in your ears as you walk aimlessly, no real destination in mind, and your breathing grows less ragged, but your wolf is still irritatingly antsy. 

The look on Jeongin’s face-

You shake your head violently, pushing that thought from your mind, and urge yourself into a sprint, taking the sidewalk that leads down to the quad and the woods without really thinking about it. 

It’s nice, to get your blood pumping and the wind in your ears, your feet slapping the pavement in an easy rhythm, and by the time you reach the edge of the forest that borders campus, you’re breathing hard again, but from exertion this time. 

Bending over, resting your hands on your knees to catch your breath, you feel your phone chime in your pocket. 

You bite your lip, toying with the idea of not looking at it all, but finally pull it from your back pocket and glance at the lit up lock screen. 

Hyunjin. 

You blow out the breath you’ve been holding-long and slow through your nose-and without reading the text, stuff your phone back once more into the safety of your pocket. 

You’ll apologize and explain later. 

Right now, you just need to clear your head. 

You start jogging again, dodging trees and low hanging branches, and fall into a nice rhythm. 

It doesn’t matter where you’re going right now-the cool, dark air of the woods feels good against your heated skin, and the slight fog that always clings to the ground here, regardless of weather or time of day, slithers around your shoes like an old friend welcoming you home. 

You’ve maybe been running for fifteen minutes when the first drop of rain hits your face, sliding down the bridge of your nose and dripping off your chin. 

You slide to a stop, glancing up at the sky through narrowed eyes, and the dark gathering of puffy clouds above your head signals more rain is about to hit any second. 

Dammit. 

You heave a sigh, and turn back the way you came. 

The slight misting of rain turns to a torrential downpour before you even reach the edge of the trees, and when a sharp crack of bright lightning lights up the sky above you, the thunder roaring behind dangerously close overhead, you dive beneath the safety of a nearby river bank without even thinking. 

Your heart is pounding once more in your ears, and you swallow hard, mouth and throat suddenly very dry. 

Your blood roars, pounding in your head into the start of a headache, and you squeeze your eyes shut as another flash of lightning turns the trees around you into twisted, distorted shapes in the quickly dwindling light. 

You fist your hands into the pocket of your hoodie and count to ten in your head, lips trembling and teeth chattering as another round of thunder shakes the ground beneath you. 

You know the signs. You’re dangerously close to a panic attack. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You swear in a constant, vehement stream beneath your breath, tucking your dirty sneakers beneath you as you curl your legs protectively to your chest. 

Resting your forehead on your knees, you try to take deep, slow breaths, and force yourself to picture Chan, the scent of petrichor filling your nostrils coming from the alpha you love and feel safe with, but his influence can only do so much against the onslaught of the storm roaring around you. 

It’s one thing to feel comfortable around another alpha’s scent, it’s another thing entirely to forget everything in your life that has happened in the rain. 

Another clap of thunder, and you’re huddling into yourself, slapping your hands frantically over your ears. 

The wetness on your cheeks is tears, not rain. 

Just like before. 

‘You don’t have to go!’ Your fingers are grabbing the hem of his coat, and though he doesn’t look at you, he stops, which gives you hope. 

‘I do.’ 

‘No!’ You cry out, and your ten year old voice is high and shrill, a loud boom of thunder drowning out your wails. ‘Please don’t go. Don’t go.’ 

Your cries turn into whimpers, and he still doesn’t turn. 

Instead, he shakes his coat free from your fingers and opens the car door. 

‘Please.’ You sob, and he shakes his head, before disappearing into the car. 

Your mother pulls you back-drenched and shaking and crying-into the safety of the house, and he drives out of sight. 

Your fingers find your phone in your pocket somehow, and you manage to unlock it, squinting against the bright screen, your hands shaking so badly that you’re not even sure you can type, let alone find your contacts. 

You’re soaked through, even hiding under the minimal cover of the embankment, and you’re shivering so hard your teeth feel like they’re going to chatter right out of your head. 

You curse yourself for not checking the weather before your little spontaneous run. 

The rain dripping from overhead makes your phone screen slick, and you swear in frustration as after several fruitless attempts to type, it slips from your fingers, sinking into the mud at your feet. 

“Fuck!” You scream back at the whipping wind, and pouring rain, and bright flashes of lightning and terrifying thunder. 

Your fingers curl into fists at your side, and you can’t hold back the sob that wrenches free from your throat. 

No one knew where you went after you left Hyunjin’s. You hadn’t even bothered to answer his text. 

You were alone, and you’d just have to wait out the storm. 

You shove yourself as far back against the embankment as you can, huddled into the fetal position, and screw your eyes shut, trying to think of something, anything, other than the sounds of the storm swirling around you, the feel of your heart pounding wildly within the walls of your chest. 

“Breathe.” You tell yourself, but your voice wobbles, and your words tremble, and you’re crying again. 

Crying, crying, crying. 

‘Why are you crying?’ He asks with such cold haughtiness that you stop for a moment and stare at him, mouth agape. 

‘Why am I crying?’ You repeat back in disbelief, and you force some of the wobble from your voice as you straighten, glaring him down. ‘Why the fuck would I not be crying? I love you!’ 

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, and the water dripping from the dark strands of his hair trace their way across his high cheekbones, the expensive, crisp lines of his suit. 

‘It never would have worked anyway.’ He stares at you, sharp, angry, and it’s a far cry from the soft, affectionate man you thought you knew. He takes a menacing step toward you, and you take one back. “Alphas don’t belong with other alphas, (Y/N). You fucking know that. Regardless of whatever shit your radical equality college courses are brainwashing you into thinking.” 

You open your mouth to respond, but he’s holding up a hand, silencing you as easily as if he’d just slapped you. 

Lightning crackles over head, illuminating the hard expression on his face, the hurt on your own. 

‘My parents have found me a suitable match-an accomplished omega from a good family. I’m sorry, (Y/N).’ He’s not. You know he’s not. 

So you stand in the rain, and you watch him get into his fancy car and drive away, leaving you behind. 

You’re not sure how long you’re crouched there, hidden in on yourself beneath the fake safety the embankment at your back affords, but it feels like years have passed when you feel someone shake you, and your name sounds from far away, like someone is calling out from underwater. 

“(Y/N)!”

You force yourself to open your eyes, and the face swimming before you slowly comes into view. 

The downturned lips, the worried expression in the dark, serious eyes, the panicked, furrowed posture of the brow. 

Chan shakes you again, not as violently this time, and his mouth forms words, but it takes a moment for your brain to catch up and decipher them. 

“-going to get you warm. Can you walk?” 

Every inch of your body feels like it’s been soaked in cold, wet concrete-your limbs numb, your lips trembling-and so you shake your head tiredly, slowly. 

Everything feels too heavy. 

Chan glances over at someone, and it’s then that you notice he’s not alone, Minho and Changbin crouched at either shoulder, their expressions of open worry mirroring his own. 

“What were you fucking thinking?” Changbin leans around Chan to frantically rub at your upper arms, trying to spark some warmth back in your skin as you continue to shiver, wet clothing weighing down your useless limbs. 

You want to shrug, want to tease and tell him ‘oh, you know, just thought I’d go running in a rain storm and catch hypothermia and maybe die, and oh! I saw Jeongin today. Probably ruined that relationship indefinitely.’ but instead, you can barely shake your head in response, lips moving weakly, but no sound coming out. 

Fuck, you’re cold. 

“We need to go.” Minho tells Chan and Changbin seriously, and they nod in response, Chan carefully pulling you out from under the embankment and settling you into his arms, Changbin throwing his jacket over you as he stands, tucking it around your violently shaking body. 

Minho keeps pace beside Chan as he carries you through the forest, and he reaches out to brush a hand down your cheek, his skin pleasantly warm, so much so that you whine and seek after it even when he pulls back with a tight smile. 

“Blue’s not your color, sweetheart. We need to take care of that.” 

You snuggle into the warmth of Chan’s chest, like a moth chasing a flame, and you note offhandedly, fuzzily from somewhere far away, that the rain has stopped, dripping slowly and rhythmically from the trees overhead. 

Changbin jogs ahead, and you realize, at the sound of an engine turning over, that they’ve brought Chan’s car. 

Your mind immediately goes to the delicious thought of the heater, your skin prickling painfully at the idea. 

Everything is slowly coming back to life. 

You’re no longer numb, but maybe you’d prefer that, because now, now everything just fucking hurts. 

Minho and Chan sandwich you between their warmth in the backseat, and Changbin drives like his ass is on fire straight back to the alpha dorms. 

You don’t even protest when they carry you up the stairs and into your apartment, Changbin rustling through your closet to find any and all blankets you own, piling them on top of your still shaking body, one after the other. 

“Fuck, baby girl.” He mutters, crouching down in front of you where you lay on the couch, teeth still chattering loudly. He tugs a blanket up and tucks it beneath your chin, concern etched across his face. “You’re still fucking freezing.” 

“It’s probably the shock.” Chan replies worriedly, pacing behind Changbin, his lower lip pulled between his teeth. 

If you weren’t currently unsure of whether or not you could speak, you would have congratulated him on his astute, and very scientific, correct conclusion. 

Minho stares at you, hands on his hips, and then he whips into action. 

“Go turn on the shower. Make it as hot as you think she can stand.” He motions to Chan, and the other alpha disappears down the hallway without another word. “Changbin.” He glances at the alpha crouched beside you, feeling your forehead with his large, warm palm. “Help me get her undressed.” 

In any other situation, Changbin probably would have made a suggestive joke about Minho’s choice of words, but now, he just silently helps you sit up, propped up against his chest, as Minho removes all the blankets and begins taking off your clothes slowly, starting with your muddy, wet sneakers. 

By the time he’s laid you bare, there is a drenched, heavy pile of dark clothing sitting on the living room floor, and your shuddering has resumed violently, goosebumps pricking over every inch of your exposed skin. 

Changbin rubs his warm palms up and down the skin of your arms as your teeth chatter, and Minho grunts, standing up and motioning with his head to Chan, who’s reappeared in the mouth of the hallway. 

“Let’s go.” 

Changbin picks you up easily without another word from Minho, and even in your partially out of it state, you pick up on the way their scents sour with worry, sharp and acrid on every inhale. 

You don’t like it, and you try to say as much, but only a whimper comes out, and Changbin ups his pace to the bathroom. 

The air inside the little room is pleasantly humid and warm thanks to the already running shower, and you start to feel your muscles prickle to life painfully once more as the blood starts to return to them in response to the change in temperature. 

It’s still not enough though, and your jaw is starting to ache from all the shivering. 

Changbin carefully deposits you in the shower, and you hold onto the wall desperately as the support of his arms leaves, willing your legs to keep you standing, your entire body still quivering, even under the unending stream of the hot water from overhead. 

Changbin leans inside the shower once more, Chan and Minho watching you warily from over his shoulder, and places his palm on your bare skin. 

His hand is warm, and you desperately seek after the contact as he pulls back and swears under his breath. 

“Fuck.” He glances at the other two alphas, and the bitter scent of smoke burns your lungs, making your throat even drier than before. “It’s not enough. She’s still chilled.” 

Without a word, Chan shucks off his sweatshirt and drops it to the bathroom floor, pushing past Changbin to step into the shower, pulling you into the warmth of his bare chest, the water instantly drenching the sweatpants he still wears without a thought. 

You want to tease him, tell him you’d never thought of showering with your clothes on before, but the warm, persistent heat of his body against your own, slowly thawing your bones, is enough to keep you silent, snuggling in more against him instead. 

You glance up at him, the water dripping from his curls and down his nose, as he motions to the other two alphas with a jerk of his chin. 

“Get in. C’mon. The more body heat, the better.” 

Changbin and Minho take off their own sweaters, leaving them bare chested, and squeeze into the shower beside the two of you. 

It’s a tiny shower, and it’s not made for four bodies, but they make it work, squishing you between them, their arms linked in a close circle around you, and slowly but surely, the combination of all of their alpha body heat-higher temperature than betas or omegas-starts to warm you from the inside out. 

Changbin smooths a hand over your wet hair, and his face grows slightly less pinched as he nods over your head to Minho and Chan. 

“She’s getting warmer.” 

Your brain is mush, warmed between your three alpha mates, and the smell of their combined scents-slowly returning to normal now that they know you’re not dying-is like a balm, washing over you and making your eyes instantly heavy. 

You sigh and let yourself sag in Chan’s hold, content they’ll hold you up. 

“I didn’t do it on purpose y’know.” You finally say, words slurred and heavy with exhaustion, and you feel them all heave a collective sigh of relief at your first coherent words since they found you. 

“What, trying to get yourself killed and fuck us over with worry?” Minho chuckles with no humor and his words are sharp and dry, but his tender, affectionate fingers on your hip soften the searing tone to his response. 

You nod against Chan’s chest, and his arms tighten around you in response. 

“Yeah, I-” You swallow, desperately needing a drink now that your body is going back to normal, and avoid their gazes, glancing down to study the way Changbin’s rough knuckles look covering Chan’s hand splayed protectively across your bare stomach. 

Honesty is the best policy right? 

“-didn’t know it was supposed to storm.” You finish lamely, because fuck honesty right now, you don’t think you can handle thinking about the betrayal on Jeongin’s face, the disappointment on Hyunjin’s. 

“I’m sorry.” Chan murmurs beneath his breath, pressing a soft kiss to your upturned forehead. 

You glance at him in surprise, slowly regaining cognitive abilities. 

“Why are you sorry?” 

“We should have looked for you sooner.” He replies tightly, eye’s dark and lips pinched. He shakes his head slightly. “Hyunjin said he was worried about you when you left his place, but we just thought you’d gone for a run, needed some time, and then it started to rain-” 

You shrug, and try to make your tone light. “It’s not your fault I’m terrified of thunderstorms.” 

“Yeah, but it is our job to look out for you.” Changbin says resolutely, placing a finger beneath your chin and making you look up at him. 

His expression softens slightly as he stares down at you, and suddenly, you feel a lot more warm than before. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper out, because suddenly, you don’t know what else to say.

Minho shifts behind you, leaning his cheek onto your drenched hair, and you feel his sigh against your back, his breath brushing across your cheek. 

“Why are you apologizing, sweetheart?” 

You glance down at your hands covering theirs, resting around your waist, and you experimentally flex your fingers, the blood flow restored. 

Physically, you feel loads better already, emotionally, not so much. 

You bite your bottom lip and focus on the way the water swirls around your feet. 

“Because I make it really hard to look out for me sometimes.”

Their responding silence speaks eons more than their words ever could. 

Outside, the rain continues to pound against the window panes, and the crack of thunder can be heard even over the sound of the running shower.

'It never would have worked anyway. Alphas don't belong with other alphas, (Y/N).'

********************************************************************************

To Be Continued

********************************************************************************

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[try-set-me-on-fire]

Hello I was tagged by a lot of people for wip Wednesday thank you @devirnis @rogerzsteven @wildlife4life @rewritetheending @homerforsure @jeeyuns! Now. Are you all going to kill me with hammers if I say that when I sat down this morning to work on literally any of the many wips I have open, I instead wrote a short drabble set in the future of ER nurse Eddie au? Well. Here you go!

Warnings for alcohol and some mostly glossed over nsfw content

Was listening to this song on repeat while writing

"Your sister isn't, like, a secret Olympian is she?"

"Well, if it's secret enough, why would I know? Thank you." That second part Eddie aims at Adriana as she hands him a drink. He assumes she's not the athlete in question. "Why?"

"There's nets a little down the way, I asked if she wanted to play some volleyball and she got, like, this look on her face."

Eddie very carefully tries not to also get a look on his face, and somewhere to his left Adriana stirs the margarita mix a little harder to mask a tiny laugh. "Oh. Well I'm sure that's fine."

Buck smiles at him in a studious sort of way, tongue in the side of his mouth. "Now, I wouldn't be getting tricked in some way, would I?"

"Mm?" Eddie responds, neutrally.

"Or, perhaps, fooled?"

"Hm." He takes a sip of his drink.

Buck steps closer, looming over him, grin growing into something wide and conspiratorial. “Hoodwinked, maybe?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eddie says, aiming for lofty but landing somewhere around embarrassingly giddy as Buck kisses him once, twice. “No all state varsity girls softball champions in my family. Sophia has never in her life accidentally broken anybody’s arm with how fast her spike is.”

“Jesus,” Buck laughs, puffs of air against Eddie’s skin. “You’re just gonna let me go out there and face possible bodily harm?”

“Her aim has improved.”

He laughs, and pulls Eddie in for another kiss. There's sand in Buck's hair, but there aren't many places sand isn't in this Air BNB up the coast with a backyard that opens right onto the dunes. They'd only got there yesterday and already the grit is under Eddie's nails, dragged across his skin, in his clothes and bedsheets. It’s an abrasive sort of dirtiness that Eddie doesn’t really mind, he feels like he’ll come home at the end of the weekend scrubbed clean by it, but he’d wondered, worried, that being so close to the beach for so long might make old fears rise up in Chris or Buck. They’d both tossed themselves right into the waves with the cousins all day long, though, and had gone out to do so again today, and it was only very late at night that Buck admitted in a whisper that it’s not the feeling of the water or the sand, but the endless roar of the tide when the rest of the world was quiet that left him feeling helpless and awake. Eddie had reached out for his hand, and they’d fucked slowly and silently, surrounded by thin walls in a house full of people, and the heady thrill of restraint had his hands and legs and everything shaking by the time he’d come. Buck — and Eddie is not not smug about this — had slept soundly the rest of the night.

Anyway. They kiss in the kitchen until Adriana stirs the pitcher with even louder, more pointed clanging. Buck pulls back first. “You wanna come play on my team?”

“No,” Eddie says, making a face that has Buck laughing again. “I’m staying in the shade and drinking margaritas.” He clanks the ice around his beverage in demonstration.

“Great plan,” Buck says, stealing a small sip. Eddie feels like he should say something about sobriety and childcare, but they’re on vacation and Sophia is out there and responsibly dry even if she may or may not be planning sports related manslaughter.

“I’ll meet you out there later.”

“Okay,” Bucks says, kissing his cheek. “I was a lifeguard for a few weeks once, so if you get really drunk and fall in the sea I’ll come fish you out.”

“My hero,” Eddie salutes him with the glass. Buck is several feet away into the sand when Eddie blinks and calls out. “Hey- wait, Buck! Wait!” Eddie grabs the sunscreen off the counter and follows a few feet off the porch. “Mi vida, wait,” he laughs the words as Buck skids to a clumsy turn and stumbles back to him. Eddie holds up the sunscreen. “Come on, don’t get lobstered, I won’t rub aloe on you later.”

Buck takes the bottle and applies a quick but generous layer. “I think you would,” he says quietly, voice and mouth curved all sly.

“Mm,” Eddie says again, neutrally, making steady eye contact as he accepts the bottle back and takes a sip of his drink slow enough that the alcohol burns in his mouth. Buck lets out one last huff of a laugh, kisses his cheek again, and marches off towards certain doom.

Eddie retreats back into the shade, with the drinks.

Adriana, at the counter, is staring at him.

“What?” Eddie absolutely does not hide behind his glass.

“Mi vida?” She asks, face tipped more towards surprised than teasing. “So it’s serious.”

Fuck. Eddie regrets saying it in front of someone who understands the words. Not the language but the context, what it might mean for Eddie to admit to thinking of a relationship in that way. Someone who knew him, during Shannon and the mess that came after, and after again. Someone who knows him, knows what a fearful man he grew into, knows the protective armor he forges out of carefully kept distance. Eddie was never good at commitment, and has learned to be perpetually frightened of the word forever because he's become intimately familiar with how quickly it can be ripped away. Mi vida, my life. It's terribly revealing. What a promise, what an act of trust. Buck, my life. He'd said it so easily, and staring back at his youngest sister now he doesn't think he can convincingly deny any conclusions she's drawing.

So. "Yes," he says, finishing his drink and holding out the glass for another. "I… it's serious." Gulp, gulp. “He… it’s serious.”

She nods, eyebrows raised all the way up, sipping her own drink. “I mean, clearly you’re all over each other, but I thought it was because he’s, like, tall and hot-“

“Ugh.”

“But like…” her glass tips towards him, liquid dangerously close to spilling. “You’re for real. Are you going to marry this man?”

Jesus. “Jesus, Ri.” Christ. Eddie finishes this drink, too. “I don’t- I don’t know. I can’t even think about that. I don’t know.”

“Okay, well, not marriage then,” she waves one hand to brush away the concept, while the other hand pours him another drink. “But like… You love him.”

Yes. He does, down to his bones he does, all consuming in a way he sometimes forgets to be scared of because it’s Buck, who makes it easy. He loves him, and has loved him, probably, he’ll admit it because of the two margaritas, since he was a stranger that once held his hand who’d pulled his son from a tsunami. It’s only been a year since they’d shared a cigarette and gone home together, but Eddie hardly needed any of that time to know the terrifying scale of this, the you’re it for me of it. He’d known, probably, two margaritas, since that first morning in the same bed. “I love him.”

It comes out awful and whispery and it makes Adriana move around the bar to wrap her arms around him. He leans his head on hers, lets himself be comforted in a way he wouldn’t have in his father’s house when they were young and there wasn’t really space for them to be friends around the roles of protector and protected they’d been slotted into. She smells like sunscreen and salt and limes, and is lovely and warm.

“You seem a lot happier,” she says quietly into his shoulder. “We- I don’t know. I was worried about you.” She leans back, knocks his arm with her knuckles. “So far away.” He doesn’t think she’s talking about the distance between California and Texas. “But he makes you, like… happy and goofy. It’s been a long time.”

He doesn’t point out that they’re on vacation, and it’s summer, and it isn’t always like this; that sometimes their sharp edges fit together wrong and there's a lot of horrible grinding sounds until they align again. But. "He makes me feel safe."

Her eyes glisten a little at the implication that a lot of the time he doesn't. "I'm glad you found each other."

Eddie smiles, genuinely, despite the circumstances of the finding. "Me too."

She knocks back her drink. "Are you going to tell mom and dad?"

"God." He scrubs a hand over his face, and then back through his hair for good measure. A year ago the answer had been a firm no. Texas was far away, he could live a whole life out here exactly as he wanted it and answer to no one. But Buck and Pepa go to bridge, now, and Buck is here on this Diaz Siblings trip when no other partners are because his sisters wanted to meet him, and the cousins all adore him, and Texas is far away but it's where Isabel lives now and Eddie knows- hopes- knows that she would love him, too. And he's taught himself fear for so long that he can't imagine it going any way but badly, but maybe he owes Ramon and Helena the chance to see his whole life and be happy for him, with him. "Maybe. I think… yeah, maybe."

She hugs him again, tight, and then puts her hands on her hips. "You know you still have us as backup. We won't let them be shitty."

He laughs. "I don't know if you can let them do anything."

"Mm," she says, moving to fill her glass again. "Me and Sophia are in possession of more grandchildren than you, that's a lot of leverage."

"Hey, I have Chris, quality over quantity," he grins and then dodges the drops of margarita she flicks at him.

"Fucker. Offer rescinded, I won't forbid them from seeing the kids if they don't immediately put up a pride flag."

He snorts, but he can feel his smile twisting sideways. "Adriana. I don't want you to fuck up your relationship with them for me."

"You think you have exclusive rights to childhood trauma in the Diaz family?" She shrugs, takes a drink, and then shrugs again a little sadder. "It's… it can be easier to stand up for someone else."

He takes a steadying breath against the regret of only being there for his sisters in some ways and not others, and nods, and holds a hand across the bar for her to take. "Here's to ruining Christmas," he says, glass in the air. They drink.

"You wanna go watch your boy get destroyed in the fine arena of weirdly competitive vacation volleyball?" She asks, setting her empty glass down.

He sets his next to hers, and contemplates just how clumsily he's about to go stumbling across the sand from all that rapidly digested tequila. "Sure." Buck will be too busy fighting for his life out there to notice him looking foolish. Though, and he can blame the sappy smile on the third margarita, he thinks Buck would still, always, catch him if he fell. “It’s so sad that I’ll have to tell them that I had a boyfriend who tragically died because Sophia spiked him into the earth’s core.”

She laughs, and they hook their arms together, and walk out into the sun.

[queenimmadolla]

ooh, we are social this week, which i’m digging! please note this isn’t an attack on anyone, this is just me adding to the conversation. so on the status of the fandom being dead. it is. (and this is a lot, cause i can’t shut up when i get going)

we can like sugar coat it all we want and say people don’t venture out to read or maybe they’ve lost interest in writing, but fandoms usually go dead—and this term doesn’t necessarily mean like absolutely NO FICS—it just means it wasn’t as hype as it was when the last season dropped, and that’s a literal fact. it’s been two years lol. summer of ‘22, i could refresh the eddie munson x reader tag and like 16 new fics and blurbs and posts would load every time, there was just so much fucking content—it was glorious and positive because there was so many people, way too many for people to start whatever bullshit ended up happening (that occurred during the first phase of people losing interest).

now if i refresh when i dare venture out to the tags (and we’ll get to that next), it’s not as frequent. plain and simple. it’ll pick back up when the next season drops, it’ll be all hype, and then it’ll die down again as the years go by. hell, even the supernatural fandom isn’t as wild as it used to be, and they were around for YEARS.

this is coming from someone who’s been here and read (and when i was just a reader, i lived in those tags) a specific steve fic for like 5 years because there wasn’t a ton of stuff being produced, yes some, but not even to the amount that’s coming out now. and that’s again because of the YEARS long gap. and the proof of that is in stonathan. we all know the gay ships are some of the most popular amongst fandoms, and while stonathan was replaced with steddie essentially, it’s been a hot minute since stonathan owned the stranger things fandom because again, it died down. people moved onto other ships from other shows or outgrew fanfiction for the fandom. that ship was like the stranger things equivalent to destiel at one point and now it’s a literal ghost, proof that this fandom does die down and that’s fine. it’ll pick back up one last time, it’s not the end of the world.

now onto the tags, a lot of people here—i’ve noticed more so sexually explicit writers (and i love your work, thank you for your service) just think people are like lazy or something. but really? it’s because a lot of people don’t tag their fics correctly.

some people have dark kinks, some people have more niche kinks, more innocent, etc., that’s inevitable, people have their own tastes. but they won’t tag it. and that’s when people get vocal about kinks and not letting people post what they want and stuff. do you, just make sure you do your due diligence, because when you intentionally don’t, people are gonna speak up. you and i know very well all tumblr users have opinions.

and when they do tag their work, it’s usually after it’s caused a stir or several hours after its been up (this is a tactic for engagement purposes, it’s not tagged for a couple of hours and then magically it appears hours after people have seen it and spread it and it happens pretty routinely). this is also applies to REBLOGS. i’m not sure if people think that because the original was tagged, it’ll be the same when they reblog, but it’s not! in fact, a lot of people just slap the eddie x reader tag on it and send it out again.

i get it, whatever it is may be your thing, my thing, but that’s just irresponsible and it sucks the joy out of whatever moment people were in when they went into the general tag. i don’t think it may have triggered them to the point of a mental breakdown, though i guess that could happen, but it definitely could put them in a man, fuck this shit i’m gonna go do something else or read something else from some other fandom, blah blah blah, and that’s valid, too. running into something you filtered out through the tags because someone didn’t want to tag their work so they could get more engagement kills vibes.

it’s happened a ton of times with me and so now i don’t go searching, because i’ve encountered waaaaaaaay too many dead doves with no proper tags other than “smut”.

i don’t ever really leave the three tab thingies on tumblr mobile home screen, so now i just get whatever i see my mutuals reblog, or something with a tag i follow (another neat feature to utilize), but again, because some people dont care to tag their stuff appropriately, it’s not always something i can read or something i feel mentally safe reading.

i doubt, like i seriously doubt, people only want to read their mutuals’ stuff. like me, i will support my mutuals and i appreciate them dearly but like….its not enough lol, i LOVE to read and i’m not tryna use them to farm a bunch of writing i can read for myself, that’s just fucked so i’m always looking (as best as i can while trying to avoid other people’s hidden landmines so to speak, because if i happen to like someone’s fic to read, i go back and check to see the blog is now just ‘???’ for me 💀) for new stuff from new writers, writers i don’t know, etc. that fits what i want to read (please, no more white character sibling!reader recs for me, i think you guys are so sweet for tryna plug me with something you think i’ll like but that immediately takes me out of the reader insert, like i can’t imagine myself or someone that looks like me)

yes, you can say there are cliques here who only support each other, and we haven’t been blind to drama and whatever, but people can say the same about you and your group of friends here. it’s all viewpoint. everyone is a part of a clique or group unless they literally don’t talk to anyone.

that aside, i dont know how many times ive gotten on here and like begged for recs and have been desperate enough to jump back into the general x reader tag to search for something to read only to encounter those dead doves. i hate not being able to venture out of my little cave, but it’s what i have to limit myself to. after this last dead dove with no warning, its gonna be a hot damn minute til i try again but i guess the whole point of this is

PLEASE TAG YOUR STUFF APPROPRIATELY AT THE TIME OF POSTING IF YOU ALREADY KNOW BETTER.

[starset21]

2016: On the right Track

Standard disclaimer: I do not consent to the posting, translating, or publishing of my work to any 3rd party site, the only place it may currently be found is on tumblr and Wattpad under the name @.itswildflower. This is all fake. It does not reflect real people, real events or their actual actions or relationships.

A/N: Welcome to my latest work of fiction! I'm gonna be so real this is the first time I'm really writing about real people and not just fictional characters from books or movies.

Summery: She didn't think going to a race in 2016 and bumping into a world champion would change the trajectory of her life forever but it does.

word count: 2k

Looking for more? Find the Masterlist Here!

Spain, May 2016       

One minute Kimi was walking out of the Ferrari garage as the mechanics worked to prepare the car for the race and the next thing he knew he was catching a young woman? Girl? who had tripped over something, due to his fast reflexes. “Are you alright?” he asked. “I’msosorryIwasn’tlookingwhereIwasgoing,” she rushes out nervously, taking several steps back from him. Kimi simply stared at the young girl, silently waiting for her to repeat herself. She cleared her throat, realizing what he was waiting for. “I apologize, I should have been paying more attention to where I was going,” she tells him, much slower this time. “It’s fine, just look out, the paddock is a busy place,” he tells her before turning and starting to walk away with his trainer. Realizing she might never get a chance to offer the things she noticed to a driver she calls out to him. “Turn tighter in turn 4 to save a few seconds overall and go for the two stop strategy, I think that’s your best shot for a podium.” Kimi completely dismissed her words because what would a young, probably 16 year old girl know about actual racing? 

Kimi Räikkönen would eat his thoughts later that day when he took second place, doing exactly what the girl had suggested he do, in the 2016 Spanish Grand Prix. Granted the team is the one who ultimately decided the final course of action. After the podium and other media duties Kimi was walking back to Ferrari’s motorhome with his press officer. “Stefania, can you find out who the girl was that was wearing an ISR jacket? She was a guest of one of the teams, Mercedes I believe. I talked to her earlier and I’d like to talk to her again. Maybe invite her to another race.” Stefania raised a brow but nodded as she made a note on her clipboard. 

Austria, July 2016

Being one of the world’s top sim racers was already something she couldn’t believe after having been told practically all her life that she would get nowhere in real racing or virtual racing. She kept a relatively low profile, never showing her face on streams, and only an occasional voice appearance, going only by her gamer tag, WintersRacing8. The fact that sim racing was really gaining more and more popularity was unbelievable, but when she had started getting invited to races by teams in several different series, NASCAR, INDY Car, WEC, etc, she felt like she was really and truly dreaming. In May she had been invited by Mercedes and the ISR to experience the F1 race weekend and do some media stuff for them, and now she was invited by Ferrari to join them in Austria. Scanning the badge they had sent her to enter the Paddock on Thursday she was met with one of Ferrari’s press officers. She led her to the Ferrari hospitality where she was left to her own devices after being told that someone would collect her in 30 minutes to meet the drivers.

It had been about 20 minutes when she heard someone call out, “Speedy?” Her eyes darted around before landing on the familiar face of Charles Leclerc. “Charlie?” She stood up and Charles grinned, moving to wrap her into a tight hug. “I can not believe it's you! What are you doing here? How have you been?” he asks her. “I’m here as a guest for work, but I’ve been good,” she laughs as she pulls away from him. “And you, you’re racing GP3 and you’ve been signed with the Ferrari driver academy, I’m proud of you,” she tells him. They talk a little more before the press officer comes and grabs her for the garage tour and meeting the drivers. 

She met Sebastian during the tour, as he had been talking to one of the engineers and she had to keep herself from fangirling as she was introduced to Seb, as she had been a fan of him during his red bull days. They talked in German but switched to English when Kimi arrived. Seb introduced her to him before asking how she got into motorsport and if she had ever raced herself. “I watched it a lot with my grandfather growing up, my dad loves American muscle cars and NASCAR but my grandfather loved watching formula cars. My dad put me in karting when I continued to show an interest in it. I actually won a championship, but I had to stop like 3 years ago because I couldn't afford it anymore,” she tells them with a shrug. “So now you just sim race?” Kimi asks. She nods, “I sim race and since I graduated early I’ve been taking some engineering courses.” Unfortunately both of the driver’s were soon called away to do something so she bid them goodbye and decided to set out and explore the track and paddock. 

 The weekend flew by, she did some promotional stuff, tried out a few different sim rigs they had, and the race was fun to watch. Hamilton was in pole position. Kvyat retired at the end of lap two, after having started from the pitlane, and practically having got a new car built overnight. She had cheered when Seb had moved up into third place, right behind Kimi. Kimi briefly led the race but made a pit stop, only to come out behind both Red Bull drivers. Vettel retired on lap 27, who was in the lead at that point, when he crashed into the barriers after his rear right tyre had exploded. This incident sent the safety car out. Rosberg led the field at the flying restart, quickly pulling out a two-second advantage over Hamilton. Pérez moved up three places into 11th and moved up another position several laps later. A mistake by Rosberg saw Hamilton close back up to him, allowing him to use the DRS to attempt an overtake maneuver. On lap 58, Kimi overtook Ricciardo for fourth place, while Verstappen was staying in the lead. He lost the lead to Rosberg however on lap 61, with Hamilton getting past him as well soon after. As the Mercedes duo battled for the race win, several drivers retired in the closing stages of the race, including Hülkenberg and Massa. On the last lap, Hamilton attempted to overtake Rosberg into turn two, but Rosberg turned into the corner late on the inside and impacted Hamilton's car, damaging Rosberg's front wing and pushing Hamilton off the track. They almost touched again as Hamilton rejoined the track but Hamilton eventually got ahead into turn three as Rosberg nursed his damaged car to the finish line. Both Verstappen and Kimi moved past him over the course of the lap, making it a Hamilton, Verstappen and Räikkönen podium. 

After everything, spending more time with her throughout the weekend, something about her and her passion had intrigued Kimi enough that he decided he needed to see her on a track for himself before he could truly make a decision. He approached her in the Ferrari hospitality and asked her if she’d like to go karting with him, Seb, and a few of the other drivers. Of course she excitedly and immediately agreed (who’s gonna turn down an opportunity to race with world champions and other f1 drivers). He set it up to happen during the summer break in Monaco, where she would be flown out to meet them. 

Monaco, August 2016

Kimi and Seb had together convinced Nico, Fernando, Daniel (who convinced Max), and Max to join them on one of Monaco’s karting tracks. “No offense but why are we here on summer break?” Max asks, crossing his arms.  “We’re here for some fun, a few no pressure races,” Seb explained to the others just as a woman came running up to them. Recognition flared in a few of their eyes. “Sorry I’m late, the uber took forever,” she apologized. “It's alright, we were just about to get ready. Guys, this is-” Seb starts to introduce. “Casey Winters,” Max finishes for him. “The 2013 World Karting Champion, raced under the American flag, you practically dropped off the face of motorsport though.” Casey nodded, looking down at her shoes.

“Max!” Daniel smacks Max’s arm, giving him a look that said he was being insensitive. “What, I kept tabs on others in my age range,” he huffs. “No, no, it's fine,” she tells them, “I uh- I couldn’t continue, I had to move back home, I didn’t have many sponsors since I’m a girl, and then my mom got sick. Our money went to her treatment and I couldn’t progress any further without it. But I picked up sim racing to practice and threw myself into learning, graduated early and here I am.” Almost all of the drivers present had troubled frowns on their faces but Casey just shrugs before clapping her hands together. “Alright, who's ready to race!”  

They suited up and drew straws to determine the starting order; Fernando last, then Daniel, Seb, Nico, Kimi, Casey, and in pole position Max. As they lined up, the familiar excitement of racing filled her. Once racing is in your blood, you never really get it out. “Ready?” The flagger’s voice cut through the sounds of the karts, the words barely audible over the engine roars. With a nod from all 7 drivers the flag dropped. With a burst of speed, the karts shot forward. The track exploded into motion, a blur of colors and shapes. She plunged into the first corner behind Max, the two came out of it neck and neck, their engines roaring defiantly. Casey’s kart surged ahead, slipping past the apex of the corner with a controlled drift that sent a spray of loose asphalt behind them. The straightaway was a chance to catch their breath before the track curved into a series of rapid turns, each one a potential opportunity for victory or disaster.

She had no clue where exactly the other’s were behind them but she could see Max was on her tail with her peripherals. She focused on the next turn, braking just before the apex and then accelerating through it. The kart's tires gripped the asphalt, and she could feel the G-forces pressing her into the seat as she whipped through the corners. She could see the finish line in the distance. One more turn and it was the final straight away. She put her foot to the floor and didn’t let up till she passed the checkered flag. Panting and exhilarated, Casey slowed to a stop and climbed out, laughing as the others did the same. “I still got it!” she cheered. “Good race.” Max offered his hand for her to shake. “No shaking off the rust for you,” Daniel laughs as he walks over to her.

The others congratulate her and clap her on the back. They even debriefed it a little, pointing out little mistakes each of them had made and laughed, enjoying the time spent together before they set back out on the track for a few more races. They did a few longer ones, maybe 10 laps or so, and a few short one lap ones. Nico, Seb, and Daniel each won one of the races, with Casey and Max winning two of them, though in all honesty it really depended on which straw you drew and your starting position, unless you messed up and spun out or something (Daniel in race 2).

It was beginning to get darker out so they called it a night, wishing each other a good rest of the break and Casey had gotten both Red bull driver’s number’s to keep in touch. “Thanks Kimi,” she says quietly. They were the only two left as they sat at a table and watched the sunset. “For what kid?” he asks. “Everything. Bringing me here, allowing me to race, even if it’s just karts and for fun,” she says, looking at him. Kimi waved her off. “You’ve got passion and instinct. I want to see where it goes. Do you still want to race?” he asks her. “More than anything.” Kimi smiles. “Then I’m going to help you race,” he tells her simply. 

[sserpente]

Loki Season 2 – Episode 1 RECAP

HERE WE GO AGAIN! FINALLY! LET’S DO THIS, SHALL WE?

As always, HEAVY SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 1 BELOW THE CUT!

Also from now on, as usual, in addition to the keep reading tags, I will tag posts that contain spoilers with the hashtag "#loki season 2 spoilers" and "#loki spoilers" so you can filter them from your dashboard until you're ready!

Did I stay up until 3 a.m. to watch the first episode again? Yes. Yes, I did.

We are starting off so damn STRONG. Damn it, I just wanted to hug Loki so bad. He’s been through so much shit and he was so heartbroken and desperate! Imagine you get to cup his face and just tell him to take a deep breath with you! What made it even more painful was the moment he fully realised that Mobius didn’t recognise him—his one friend, the one person who likes him for who he is… and he doesn’t remember him… and then the relief on his face when was in the right place again!

Loki was so panicked about the impending war. For good reason, obviously but it truly shows that Thor: Ragnarok lied. Loki wouldn’t be a bad king, now hear me out—in The Avengers, Thanos had the upper hand. You all remember that one scene where he sort of backtracks and says “It’s too late… it’s too late to stop it…” but can’t join forces with Thor because The Other was watching him? Loki understands the sacrifice for sure and in the first Thor film, when he tried to wipe out Jötunheim, what I believe is that he wanted to prevent the war that Thor himself had started by attacking those Jötuns. Loki’s not about violence and causing pain and destruction, he just got caught in the middle of it several times, and circumstances forced him into choices that were not heroic. We knew that already, of course… but it’s nice to see that reflected in the series. Besides, we don’t need him to be a hero. We just need him to be Loki. 🥰

The jokes were spot-on, not too silly, not out of place, in my opinion, but sprinkled in just right so far. Skin? Also, can we please talk about the warning on the floor that said Spaghettification? Come on! 😂😂😂

Now in that sense, O.B. is indeed brilliant. A lovely and light addition to the serious bureaucracy of the TVA for sure!

I really wasn’t worried about Loki making it back safely, somehow. Let’s face it, they wouldn’t have killed him in the first episode of Season 2. With that being said… I hope for their sake he stays safe at the end too, otherwise, I will hurt a lot of people! 🙂

X5… X5, what are we gonna do with him? I hate him. Of course, I do. He’s got something about him that just makes you want to slap him in the face. 😒

Now there are two questions we immediately ask ourselves, right? Where, or rather, when did Sylvie come from? And who pruned Loki? Was it another Sylvie, or another Loki? Another Mobius? B15? An antagonistic character who realised their wrongs? A new character? A Kang Variant? They’ve definitely left us some loose ends! 🤔

And lastly… it’s absolutely heartbreaking to see how much Loki cares for Sylvie despite what happened at the end of Season 1. She basically betrayed him! For reasons Loki understands, of course, but still… it broke his heart… and hence it broke mine. He was so ready to stop the others from going after her even though he was facing the very gruesome time slipping problem. 😭

If you’ve seen the video I posted earlier, you’ll know that I have already seen Episode 2 as well today. I won’t lose a word about that one until next week though! 😉 All I’m gonna say is that we’re in for a treat. 😏

PS: I want that TVA handbook as a notebook for my writing.

[miracles-and-butterflies]

How exactly Mirabel reacted to Luisa's snapping? And did Parce find Tío Bruno? Does Dolores listen to what's going on right now?

All will be revealed presently.

Warning, potentially sensitive topics below.

~~~~~~

Mirabel flinched, looking away.

Luisa quickly realised her mistake.

“Mirabel, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… I’m not mad at you, hermanita.” She tried to ignore the yellow tags scratching against her chest and arm as Mirabel moved her head - they must be scratching Mirabel’s neck raw on the other side. It’s so rough and jagged.

She turns on the spot, trying to think of where their mother might be and catches Isabela just watching in the doorway.

“What the fuck do you want?” She growled.

“That’s why you…” said Isabela, quietly.

Luisa was fully ready to smack her older sister aside too, but Isabela was already walking over.

“Hold still, sis,” Isabela instructed, reaching for the deer tags, one at a time. “I’m gonna try get these things off, okay?”

Mirabel sucked in a breath, closing her eyes and curling further inwards to Luisa. But, she seemingly gave Isabela permission to get close. Isabela removed each of the tags easily enough, tossing them to the bloody puddle on the ground.

Luisa didn’t know how to react.

“Walk, Luisa.” Isabela snapped, swatting her shoulder when she didn’t move. “We don’t have time. Walk.”

Luisa huffed and started walking.

Isabela trailed along beside her, equal paced, trying to keep focus on Mirabel, who was just a bloody bundle of nerves and lightheadedness.

“Glasses,” Isabela prompted next. “Where are your glasses?”

Mirabel hesitantly opened her eyes again. “I don’t know…”

“That’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Um… just keep talking. Tell us about something.”

“Something?”

“Anything. Just keep talking until we find Mama. We don’t want you passing out. So talk. Whatever you want. The French Revolution or something.”

Mirabel took a breath, wincing through the pain, but not even that could stop her from giving a historical lectures.

“In 1789, the people of France—”

Luisa nudged Isabela with her elbow.

Isabela raised an eyebrow, briefly glancing over, but tried to keep as much of her focus on Mirabel as possible.

She clearly expected Luisa to push her away.

“I, um… thank you.” Luisa muttered. “I wouldn’t have thought to do that.”

“You’re welcome, mi hermanita.”

“Okay, that’s too far.”

~~~~~~

Dolores had raided the medical cupboard that Julieta kept in case of emergencies, dumping the supplies beside her brother.

Camilo shifted himself back against the wall, mumbling some gratitude but nevertheless remained quiet and let Dolores do whatever she needed to.

He had no understanding of this stuff. And he trusted his sister.

Who didn’t?

Older sisters can be so protective.

If there’s anything Camilo has learnt in the last five minutes, it’s that.

“What happened?” Dolores asked, gently.

He shrugged, groaning in pain. “I don’t know. Luisa just came in from nowhere.”

“What happened?” Dolores asked again. This time it wasn’t as gentle. Almost flat and cold and even disbelieving as she said the words.

Camilo wasn’t stupid enough to realise Dolores would eventually hear something.

“It was just a prank that Mirabel has worked herself up about. You know how sensitive she is. And all her overthinking. It was just a joke!”

Dolores sighed, “And we all know Luisa can be overbearing.”

That’s when the sound of claws against tiles were heard and Parce skidded into the room with Antonio on his back, several rats following along behind (some clinging to Parce and Antonio), just as Bruno stumbled in.

Bruno ran a hand through his hair. “Holy shit.”

“Camilo! Camilo, are you okay? Are you sore? Should I send Parce to get Tía Julieta?” Antonio rambled, worriedly.

Bruno ran a hand down his face. “Holy shit.”

“Yes, please. Thank you, Antonio.” Dolores answered. “Why don’t you go with him?”

Antonio didn’t need telling twice. He carefully directed the rats to stay and help Bruno (alongside Dolores with Camilo), while he and Parce quickly left in search of the healer.

“What happened?”

“Luisa. Overprotective, again.”

“When?”

“Just a few minutes ago.”

“Is she done?”

“Isabela managed to get her to stop.”

“Where is she now?”

“Outside, somewhere.” Dolores clicked her tongue in frustration. “Are you going to help or are you going to keep distracting me, Tío? Because right now I would be more grateful for the former.”

Bruno shook himself, sitting down. “Yes, yeah, yep, of course.” He offered a sad smile to Camilo. “You look to be in a rough shape, sobrino.”

“That’s Luisa for you,” Camilo wheezed as Dolores pressed a cloth against his nose.

“Don’t worry, I’ll have words…” on second thought that idea didn’t sound great. “With Julieta and Agustín,” Bruno amended. “They’ll sort her out. Stop things like this happening again.”

[dirtbag-linecook-kyloren]

oh sHIT I FORGOT TO POST THIS EARLIER i had an idea for an epilogue scene to an au I haven't written yet and I needed @jaynesilver to see it so I typed it as a warm up for once which i NEVER DO but because it's typed you all get to see it too!!

all you need to know if kylo is a beauty youtuber at abt jeffree star's peak fame levels and Hux is a guy with an engineering job who also streams stardew valley speedruns as a hobby and they're very in love at the end of the fic (that again I haven't written yet)

ANYWAY have 1.6K of beauty blogger au under the cut, I'm gonna keep it out of the main tag bc It's not for a current au and I don't wanna clog it up

Armitage doesn’t read Chat while he’s in the mines, with the small exception of checking to make sure he hasn’t missed a ladder. Most of his viewers are used to this. When the first good luck day of a run comes along, and he makes the loop for foregables around the map, when he skips several cutscenes using exploits and puts years of animation-canceling muscle memory into his keystrokes, Chat dies down, mostly talking amongst themselves. 

Commentary is easier; he can talk and click, talk and type, talk and debate using a cherry bomb on a group of copper ore to save himself a few seconds. 

“I’ll save it,” he tells Chat, shifting in his chair. “If I can use it on iron later, it’ll save even more time.”

This run is going well, so far. It’s his third reset of the stream, but Armitage already has all the copper he’ll need for basic sprinklers and he’s almost through the dark levels. Huffing under his breath, Armitage imagines explaining any of this to his coworkers, can already see the glazed-over look in their eyes. He’s familiar with how they stop paying attention when Armitage talks about his hobby. Gaming, they can understand. Replaying the same niche farming simulator over and over to get the fastest time on a silly leader board? More of a stretch? Do that for strangers on the internet to watch as they pay him money? A step too far. Most of them don’t know what Twitch is, let alone understand why anyone would watch it. 

Kylo shifts in his chair on the other side of the room; it’s quiet enough that Armitage can’t hear it over his headphones, so he doubts the microphone picked it up, but the movement catches his eye. This is their first time having him in the room as Armitage streams. He’s editing, an oversized t-shirt hanging off his shoulder, and Armitage wishes there was time to have more thoughts about that, but he gets one last ladder and moves on to the iron floors. 

“I’m suspicious of how well this run is going,” Armitage says, eyes darting to his second monitor as he works his way through dust sprites. “I’m good at the mines, but I’m saving this seed to see if I can work out a perfection run from it.” 

It’s as he’s reading through other people agreeing that this level of luck is unusual, including a stranger accusing him of using mods as if Armitage would dare bother to cheat instead of just ‘getting good,’ as the kids say. 

BornToSlay: what’s ur skincare routine jesus

The huff of laughter is involuntary; he upgraded his web camera at Kylo’s request, and now it feels like his every fucking pore is captured and streamed. He’s gotten a few comments about it, but beyond technical questions and a single curious person asking why he upgraded, something Armitage lied about, the new image quality has gone unnoticed. Because he’s a good mod, Mitaka has already messaged him that the same user asked about Kylo earlier, and Armitage just missed it. 

They expected this, and they were prepared for this. Kylo’s channel has millions of subscribers on YouTube, he’s arguably a D-List celebrity at this point. Armitage speed runs Stardew Valley as a hobby. They’re operating on different levels of internet fame in different niches, but people have been curious, and some of those people are bound to stop in and watch him break rocks for fifteen minutes while hoping for a bounty of cave carrots. 

Still. Most of them have dropped in, decided his content wasn’t for them, and gone away. Apparently, this user has stuck around for a few streams, and Kylo said it was up to Armitage how much or little they interacted. He’s right there, and the run is going well enough he can afford to waste a few seconds entertaining this line of questioning. 

“My skincare routine is whatever Kylo forces me to do, now,” Armitage says, popping his headphones around his neck. “Kylo?”

When he looks over, Kylo is editing; he’s just also got Armitage’s stream up on his second monitor. He doesn’t bother to pretend he was working when he looks at Armitage, turning in his chair. 

“Someone wants to know what my skincare routine is, and I doubt you trust me to explain it properly.” 

Kylo laughs, and when he stands, Armitage can finally read the text on his shirt, and - Jesus, he’s wearing Armitage’s merch, they’re never going to hear the end of this. He can already see the stream compilations, and Armitage thinks he’s wearing Kylo’s sweater. 

Armitage finally uses the cherry bomb on a chuck on iron and Kylo settles behind him, his chin resting on Armitage’s head and his arms around Armitage’s shoulders. 

“It’s not consistent,” Kylo says, looking at the camera. Armitage can see him in the Streamlabs window, a lazy face of makeup and his hair piled on his head in a messy bun. He looks fantastic, which is to be expected when his entire internet presence revolves around beauty, but Armitage will never get tired of looking at him. Kylo keeps talking, but Armitage tunes him out, focuses on hitting floor forty, getting seven more iron, and then passing out so he can start building furnaces. 

Chat has started speeding up; Armitage doesn’t even have to ask Mitaka to turn on slow mode so Kylo can read anything, he just already does it. Kylo doesn’t have his contacts in, so he shifts his glasses up his nose to read the screen. 

“They want to know if I ever put makeup on you,” he says, and as Armitage makes his way into town to buy seeds from Pierre, he huffs. 

“I’m wearing makeup now,” he mutters, and he knows the mic will pick it up clearly, but he almost wishes it could be an aside. “I’ve been wearing makeup from streams since my first few months. Someone wouldn’t stop talking about my freckles, so I bought some shitty foundation at the grocery store so I wouldn’t have to ban the word.”

Kylo laughs, and Armitage can feel him look down, can feel his thumb drawing circles on his chest. 

EmilysWife: Beauty icon Hux PierreSucks: omg is that how you met

Now it’s Armitage’s turn to laugh. In the few weeks since someone recognized him out with Kylo, the few weeks since Armitage tweeted to confirm that was him, that he wasn’t Kylo’s assistant, it hasn’t come up how they met. They’ve not talked about keeping it a secret, although perhaps Armitage would like some parts of their relationship to stay between just them. 

This seems harmless enough, though. 

“Kylo tells this story better,” Armitage insists, because he loves Kylo, but he’s also cruel. Kylo’s breath is warm against his skin as he hides his face in Armitage’s neck. “Would you like to tell Chat how we met?”

“No...” The words are groaned, drawn out, a tone that perfectly conveys both Kylo’s embarrassment and his willingness to share. He stands up straight, and Armitage misses the press of his body, but he can hear the shuffle of his shirt, can see the chat as his absolutely ancient merch is on display, the screen printing cracked and faded from wear and hundreds of washes. “I was a fan.” 

“That’s shorting them the full story.” Armitage’s tone is teasing as he sleeps, wakes up, loads his furnaces and waters his crops. It’s a cycle of days he could do with muscle memory alone, has done blindfolded for a video on YouTube. “Phasma is a friend of mine, and when she did a video with Kylo, they had to pick up something she left at my house. What were your first words to me, Kylo?” From his spot hiding again, Kylo’s words are muffled. “I’ll tell them, then. He said, and I quote: ‘You talk me to sleep every night.’ That, Chat, was his opening line.” 

Kylo’s head pops up, and Armitage can see his pout on the screen, his playful glare. 

“It worked.” 

Armitage laughs. 

“After seven attempts to make yourself not sound like a stalker, I suppose it did work. Or, alternatively, I didn’t know you were hitting on me until we were on our third date.” Armitage could sound sad here, but he decides against it. He hadn’t been able to imagine a world where Kylo found him attractive. It never occurred to him that Kylo might be interested, so he lusted in quiet, alone at night with his own hand. “I still maintain that those dates don’t count, since I was unaware they were dates.” Kylo’s acrylics dig into his shoulders, and Armitage hisses in mock pain, as if Kylo’s nails aren’t rounded at the tip. “Don’t put holes in your own sweater, idiot.”

Though he attempts to fake angry, the last word comes out soft and fond as he looks up, doing his best to forget they’re on camera for a moment, to forget that he’s streaming this live and that he’ll be hearing about this for weeks. Phasma has already messaged him on Discord; Armitage will deal with her after the stream. 

The press of lips on his cheek is welcome, the loss of Kylo’s warmth less so. He waves to the web camera one last time before heading back to his own desk, putting on his headphones. Half of Chat is talking about his insane luck and all the pumpkins he’s going to plant while the other half still can’t quite believe Kylo was there, and is speculating how many streams he’s been just in the background of. Armitage won’t answer that; he doesn’t want to encourage them to ask for Kylo every stream, though he imagines they will anyway, now that the flood gate has opened. 

KyloAmidala: I normally just watch from the other room, though now I have to settle for replays if my sleep schedule is messed up. 

Armitage can hear Kylo snickering even as he puts his headphones back on.