#like but ... im a boy ... punches the ground and screams to the sky. anyway enough about dysphoria simulator im here to talk about this guy

[ursoself-satisfying]

Whole Lotta Love

P A T  M U R R A Y (Undrafted) x F!Reader, SMUT 

Warnings: smut, lots of it, language, like all the sex guys all of it guys,,, SPOILER: UNSAFE SEX THEY DISCARD THE CONDOM WRAP IT BEFORE U TAP IT BOYS N GIRLS

A/N: this is my zenic,, its 10k words n I am v tired,,,, I hope you all enjoy sorry its late lol

an accompanying playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/criceloni/playlist/5sP9FcSsFcPjFodxN1E5RY?si=dNK4SdE2RoSRcqhN99dntg 

The engine of your car sputtered weakly as you turned the key for the third time. You pursed your lips and grunted as you screwed your whole arm around, twisting the key in the ignition again. The hot sun beat against the grimy, untinted windows of the old van and your skin boiled under the magnification of the glass. Drops of sweat limply slipped down the side of your face, sizzling when they hit the leather between the seats. The day was nice, but the interior of the vehicle was sweltering and stunk of burgers and sex. You groaned loudly and threw your head back tiredly. With your eyes closed, you tiredly and hopelessly went to turn the car on one last time, dreading the spitting sound that you expected to greet you. You were indeed greeted by the same annoying noise, burned into your eardrums by now, but it faded after a moment, the harsh metallic sounds blending into a solid purr as the engine started, radio turning on to the classic rock station. Shooting up out of your seat in shock, both at the sound and the unexpected success, your hands slammed against your steering wheel and your mouth hung open. “Oh my God,” you muttered, “Oh my God! Thank you, God!” You shouted at the roof of the car and you let out a dry sob. The wet lines down your face could have been sweat or tears, or both at this point. Loud thrums echoed through the cabin of the vehicle as you drummed your hands against the soft roof excitedly, shaking your head in a grateful spasm of relief. “YES! Oh my God, yes, thank you.” The soft whispers left your lips in the form of a laugh and you gripped the steering wheel tightly, taking a deep breath and smiling widely. The next thing you did was roll down the windows and sigh as the clear, blue sky blessed you with fresh air, letting The Who play you out. The gas pedal was pushed down and you made your way from the curb where you’d been sitting for the last half an hour. The VW bus bounced, “My Generation” fading as you turned a corner and made your way to the game.

Your sputtering horseless carriage shuttered to a stop and felt like it would cave in and collapse once in park. With a shake, you turned off on a ‘don’t text and drive’ PSA, the engine and rolled up the dirty windows. Manually locking the door behind you, you exited the rusted green car and headed towards the greener field. You rolled your eyes as you passed a large bus undoubtedly belonging to the opposing team. You doubted it was necessary and would have guessed it was more of a petty power move if anything. A small group of people, not yet a crowd, was gathered by the fences of the baseball field watching the game. It had already begun and you’d missed the first few innings. You searched the crowd for a familiar figure until you spotted a red shirt and jogged over to it. “Brian!”

The man turned to see you waving your hand happily above your head. He turned once he recognized you and laughed heartily with open arms. “[Y/N]!”

Once you reached him, he wrapped his strong arms around you and lightly picked you up. You did your best to return the embrace but he held you too tightly. His cotton button up smelled strongly of a flower-scented detergent and a gas station, comforting and familial. Your laughs mixed and you remained leaned against him when he put you down. “Mr. Murray,” you started playfully, “How are you on this fine day?” The older man patted your back and chuckled.

“Well, I could be doing a hell of a lot better.” Brian looked out at the game, Barone at-bat, and took a deep sigh. You scanned his face with concern, catching the glaze of sadness in his eyes. You softly placed a hand on his shoulder, unsure of what happened exactly, but having an idea.

You turned your head back and look around you for Brian’s almost other half, but seeing the older Mazzello nowhere. You felt safe enough to ask, “He didn’t get it, did he? John-” He shook his head quickly, not turning towards you. You wanted to ask how Pat was taking it but you could figure it out based on your past experiences. You weren’t sure Brian would know at this point anyway. For a moment, you just watched the game. Barone wouldn’t slide and Ty was clearly upset. All you could hear were the curse words carried to you by the light wind picking up. You squeezed Brian’s arm gently and gave him a sympathetic smile, before gulping and beginning to say something. “So then where’s-”

Joe walked up beside Brian and handing him a bottle of water from his trip to concessions. The shorter man glanced over and stopped when he caught sight of you. “Oh, [Y/N]-”

“Hey, Joe,” you replied softly. The man beside stepped back to allow you to give a quick embrace to the new arrival. You stepped back and smiled, biting your lip. “I’m sorry,” you spoke quickly, “He deserved it. John’s-” A stifled laugh interrupted your sentence, but you continued, “Not that I would know, but he’s the best, I hear. He should have gotten it. That’s- That’s so stupid-”

“He’s got some offers, but there’s not much we can do now that it’s over.” Leaning against the fence, the dark-haired man took a swig from the bottle he held and smiled faintly back at you though he kept his attention on the game before him. “Now we just play.”

Though you’d missed the first five innings at least, Brian filled you in on how the game had gone on with as many bumps and hitches as you could possibly imagine. The D-Backs were down (though you honestly wouldn’t have expected otherwise) and hoped for a comeback. Ty interrupts Barone’s play to demand he dirty his uniform, a call is unfairly continued and Ty (again) interrupts and demands his complaint be noted, which had been happening just as you’d arrived.

You were there just in time to see Pat’s second at-bat. “C’mon, baby, you got this! Hit it out of the fuckin’ park!” You were screaming and hollering encouragements at your boyfriend. His father chuckled and gave you a side-eyed glance, a glint of understanding gleaming on his face, seeing again why you and his son got on so well. “He’s not gonna get a hit,” you said quietly to the man beside you, not taking your eyes off the boy at bat.

Brian nodded, smiling. “Never does.” Both of watched as the third pitch was thrown and Pat unsurprising did not get a home run. He let out a long and frustrated scream and hit the bat against his helmet instead before heading to the dugout. The bat Pat had used broke against the fence pole as he hit it repeatedly and cursed the ‘loaded fucking bases’.

Pat then ran to his position in the outfield as he was told but it was clear he hadn’t cooled down yet by his continued yells. If you knew Pat Murray, you knew what he sounded like when he said ‘fuck’. By now, his curses were carved into your ears and you could hear them in your dreams. He yelled and yelled as the game continued, with some concern shown by his teammates and some confusion by the competition. Vinnie had attempted to diffuse the situation by engaging in a friendly game of catch between bats but Murray firmly stuck the ball in the scoreboard. He very nearly took Zapata’s head off.  

“Is he like this at home?” The elder Murray let a smile tweak his lips upwards for a moment, then looked away from the comment. You leaned over the fence n suppressed a laugh at what John had said.

As the game went on, you could tell things would only get worse until it all imploded, and you were right. Brian shared a tired, knowing look with you as you could both hear him yelling from the dugout. “YOU THROW LIKE A BITCH AND YOU BAT AT .250!”

Brian rocked back and look between you and his friend, shaking his head. “Patrick, relax!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, DAD!”

He nodded and leaned back against the fence. “That’s my boy.” Laughing, you bounced against his side. John shrugged his shoulders and gave an exaggerated frown of acceptance. The game lasted a while before another notable event occurred. This time, was an unsportsmanlike fight erupting after an unfair play and a sudden injury. It all happened so quickly it was hard to comprehend.

Garvey was slammed into the ground by an opposing player and when they hit the dirt a cloud of red dust rose around them. An audible thud echoed as the crowd went silent. Your mouth hung open and the world stood still for what felt like forever as the small catcher laid there unmoving. Then Ty erupted. He grabbed the assaulter from behind and held him down, Vinnie running to leap into a punch. That was the instigator. The rest of the team, with the exception of Fotch, raced to the scene. The riot on the field got worse and once John ran out, Joe bounced off his arms on the fence and rushed just as you had to stop his son. You could hear your boyfriend shouting and mentally cursed, knowing how this would turn out.

“Pat, fuck-” You went to lift yourself over the fence and attempt to run after your lover in an effort to keep him from hurting anyone, but his father pulled you back. He gave you a stern look and shook his head.

“I don’t need you getting in any more trouble right now.” Without anymore protest, you huffed and took your place again. Brian yelled after the boys and jogged out onto the field himself, though he was sure to look back and give you a strict but caring sign to stay back.

You had been right in your earlier assumptions, as Pat charged with a battle cry and pounced on the bobbing mass of bodies, all angrily entangled with one another. More and more athletes seemed to be absorbed into the huddle the longer it went on until it's magnitude reached the crowds of onlookers, who soon after went to join. As the fathers ripped their sons from the mess, Brian stopped a member of the other team from adding a bat to the fight, but by the time the teams had been surgically separated, enough damage had been done. Garvey was in bad, bad shape and the rest of the team was covered in scrapes and bruises, uniforms in shambles and carrying expressions that could kill.

Brian remained out on the field for a few minutes, post scuffle, and Joe went to his son at Garvey’s side. With no one left to stop you from making your way to the scene, you stepped for the first time onto the sacred ground and jogged over to the pit with a wave, “Patrick!” The man turned at his name being called and you stopped in your place when he looked at you. For a moment, you thought you saw a small smile grace his shaking lips as his eyes shone with recognition and he made his way to you. Closing the distance between the two of you, he took you into his sweaty arms and held you perfectly against him. You fit like a puzzle piece together as your own arms were slung around him. He held your head tightly to the crook of his neck and you could smell on him all the events of the day. As you inhaled the scents of dirt and a bit of blood caked onto sweat-soaked skin and leftover aftershave, maybe the hints of a citrus shampoo, you pulled handfuls of his team shirt into your balled fists. Together you swayed for a moment in the middle of the field and he muttered, “Fuck, God- Fuck, I’m so glad you’re here- So fuckin-” He stopped his profane murmurs as he bit back something directly in between happiness and anger. “I’m just so glad you’re here.”

You responded with pressed whispers against the skin of his neck ignoring the previous events and focusing on the moment you were in. “Hey,” you breathed, “I wouldn’t have missed the D-Backs’ last game for the world.”

He smiled, though you couldn’t see. His muffled response was kissed into your hair. You couldn’t quite understand what he’d said but it sounded like something along the lines of, ‘God, I fucking love you,’ which you completely reciprocated.

One hand of yours strayed from his back to his head and held the hair protruding from beneath hat. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said again, softer this time, emphasizing how much your being there for him meant. “But I can’t fucking wait to get you alone.” He finished his statement quietly, in a voice that sent shivers down your spine, hot and dark, every vertebra quaking. His own hands mapped the back of your neck, threading his calloused, bloody fingers through your locks, holding you with a fear of losing you.

“I’m just glad you’re o-”

The quiet conversation was interrupted. “Get a room, Murray!” A voice yelled from the group of red behind him. It was most likely Barone or Polacco, the only two in a good enough mood after the previous events to pay enough attention to you to make any kind of crude comment like usual.

Pat pulled away, lips spread thin and eyes low. His hands moved to grip your upper arms tightly and he slowly turned his head back to look at the clever commentators. “Shut the FUCK UP ABOUT MY GODDAMN GIRLFRIEND!” Your eyes widen and a sheepish grin spread widely between your cheeks. When he turned back to you, you lifted your hand to hold his face. His eyes were tied to yours, but your gaze soon drifted down to the lightly bleeding scratches on his neck. You frowned and your fingertips dropped to trace over the red lines. The man holding you still, softer now, hissed at the raw contact and his pleading eyes twitched.

His hand rose to wipe at your left cheek, stained from his wound and your place in the crook of his neck. He didn’t move it though after placing it there. “You- There was some blood- Fuck, that’s so gross, I’m so fuckin’ sorry-” His head shook lightly as he stared at you, lip twitching with slight distress.

You responded with a soft laugh, breathed through your nostrils. “It’s ok- It’s ok! I’m sorry you got hurt,” you said as you wiped some of the blood from around the new wound. Pat looked pained, but your presence overcame any discomfort he had. “What a game, huh?”

You chuckled and he hummed near your ear, a pleased puff of air pushed through his nostrils. “I’m so fucking glad you’re here- It’s a better game now. I know it’s not gonna actually get better, but-” Pat moved back and looked at you with gleaming eyes. You could never resist those eyes. He seemed so hopeful since he’d learned of your arrival and you weren’t going to even think about how vain it might have been. “But you’re here, you know.”

You moved your hands swiftly to the sides of his face and pulled him down for a kiss. Though it took him a moment, he quickly pulled you against him and his plush lips pushed against yours. His arms around your waist were the only things keeping you upright as the two of you collided so passionately you arched against him. He pulled slightly back to turn his head and slip through your parted lips. He tasted of vanilla ice cream and blue raspberry Gatorade. Tongues pushing needily against each other, for just a moment, the field around you was lost and all you had was the sensation of Pat Murray buzzing through your lips.

“Ey, Murray-!” A sing-songy voice interrupted again and immediately Pat painfully yanked your face from his. With a clenched jaw and white knuckles still on your figure, he wiped the shared saliva from his mouth and looked like he was refraining from erupted in a trembling angry fit. One hand swept down the side of your face with a dazed expression of admiration and he made eye contact with you, sending you his concern through soft, hazel eyes. You felt the sudden sadness of his body leaving yours, the physical contact high of your love crashed down and you were left hot and alone. The player ran back to the benches spewing foul curses at his ogling teammates as they threw around playful jabs at his PDA. He turned to wave you off and that made you smile. You stepped backward, slowly at first, then turned to jog back to your spot at the fence.

The crowds grew but the sound shrunk. Spectators came from around the neighborhood as word of the fight had spread. It was silent now, in the aftermath. It felt like a sort of mourning period, perhaps for the final chances of the D-Backs at winning today’s game. Reverence was the word to describe what was emanating from the home team. The dugout looked morbid and the only eyes that weren't cast down were furrowed in anger, confusion, and concern. Sirens cut through the still, religious air as an ambulance and a police car drove onto the game dirt.

Two EMTs came barrelling from their vehicle with a gurney and lifted Garvey into the back of the ambulance. The teams cheered him on before the vehicle doors closed and the ambulance left the field. The last image of Garvey was that of him in a neck cast with a thumbs up and the biggest smile.

Two cops then got out of their car that had parked itself on the dirt and went over to the D-Back dugout. Vinnie and Ty sat against the fence as the policemen approached them after speaking with the umpires. “Tyler Delmonica and Vincent Maltzan?”

You watched with the fathers as you had before and smacked Brian’s arm with fever as you saw the lawmen approach the team. “What the fuck- What’s- What the fuck are they doing?” With a slightly irritated side-eyed glance, Brian observed the same scene you did with concern. The elder Mazzello on the other side of him grunted and spoke, “Nothing good.”

The two from the fence had gone over to the cops and were now in handcuffs. The entirety of the red team had come swarming from the shaded dugout to defend their friends. Curses were thrown back and forth and the policeman threatened to arrest Dells as well. “Dude, what the fuck-” you muttered.

“Finish the game!” Ty urged as he and Vinnie were dragged away. The other policeman countered Ty’s plea, announcing for an end to the gathering, at which time both teams emerged from their holes and agreed upon something for the first time. ‘We’re almost done!’ they said, ‘We’re winning!’ The crowd, which had grown exponentially since the scuffle, jeered and booed at the officer. He then complied to the masses as Maz promised they would go on with no further complications. The Bulldogs player that had put poor Garv in the hospital was expulsed and that was the end of it.

The game went on, not without some drama, of course, but it went on. It was an incredible sight. Dells was on fire, throwing out after out after out. Zapata gets a hit, Fotch walks with a dead arm (breaking Dell’s front car window in the process), then it was Pat at-bat, again.

He hit the first one and your breathing stopped, then it was announced a foul. You held tightly to his father’s arm, praying for the impossible as you did every game. The second ball went in slow motion as it headed towards him. The world stood still for you. The sudden smack of wood against hot leather shook you from your trance. Patrick ran with a fury you’d never seen before, sliding into first base in a red dust cloud of victory.

You could barely recognize your own voice in the scream you let loose as you watched your significant other accomplish such a rare feat. “YES, PATTY, YES! FUCKING GET IT!” You were jumping up and down, shaking the fence, hitting Brian when your hands weren’t waving excitedly in the air. Brian laughed at your reaction and held you with an arm when you settled down.

Patrick screamed and jumped just as you were. “I GOT A HIT!” The crowd was still roaring, the D-Backs yelling for him.

“Way to go, Pat!” Brian hugged you and wiped tears from eyes you hadn’t noticed falling before. The older man shook you affectionately against his side.

“I GUESSED! I FUCKING GUESSED!” The ginger was kept his yelling as the blue team called for time. “I’M NOT OUT!” He clapped and laughed, calling after his team as they prepped during the other team's timeout. Maybe it was just you but the air smelled sweet now, beside your considered family in an epic and cherished moment. It may have been bittersweet but it was worth savoring every second of.

“GO PALACCO! KILL HIM! MURDER HIM!” Pat was still screaming as his teammate took to the batting mound. It went Palacco, then David, then Maz. Having two strikeouts lead to your star didn’t seem like a good sign, but Maz was a miracle man. A home run, last bat, and they- They won. The D-Backs won. Maz hit home and the entire game, everything leading up to it erupted in the field and the crowds. The culmination of an entire season, all the stress of the game, the fight, the disappointment of the draft, the love of the team and the camaraderie and support they all show through all this exploded.

Red shirts were glued in a huddle at center field. “For Garvey!” You heard someone yell. Vinnie and Ty came running back on, leaping and whooping. The crowd roared and the cheers rolled over the hills beyond the field. You shook with pride, sure you must have been glowing like the sun looking out upon the victory. Brian looked on the verge of tears, but you couldn’t quite tell through wet eyes of your own. Sound seemed to escape the reality you existed in and all that mattered was the team. Time slowed and your focus went to tunnel vision on a very specific first-time hitter.

Patrick ran over to you the second you set foot on the beaten dirt of the outfield, ambushing you with the tightest embrace you may have ever been in. It took a second but you thrust your arms around him as well as he lifted you from your waist. Holding onto him around his neck, he spun you in tight circles as you both laughed heartily, buried in one another’s soft scents. As he put you down, you started to speak but he cut you off immediately by pushing his face into yours. You did not mind one bit as you resumed your position from earlier, curving against him, your front flat against his chest, hands tugging at his sweaty hair as his limbs slipped down your back. Tracing the dimples at the bottom of your spine, pulling at the hem of your shirt and letting his thumb kiss your skin. His other hand gripped your ass, wanting you impossibly closer. Your open-mouthed kiss was outlined by a smile as you groaned every time he found a new place on your body to caress. Pat was lost in your taste, like lemon cookies and cherry slushies and little league baseball games.

“C’mon, man! Your fucking dad’s here!” Zapata groaned and Palacco smacked his arm with a laugh as the team, those distracted by the couple, made faces and sounds to tease. Barone made a thrusting motion and mouthed ‘Get it!’ as his own girlfriend stood neglected behind him.

The pair of you separated to see the what antics the boys had come up with this time around. Though you thought Pat’s good mood after the win couldn’t be bent, this came awfully close. His grimace was incomparable yet that was just another reason you loved him. Somehow it was still adorable. “He’s right, you know,” you patted your lover’s dusty chest and smiled, “I’ve been hanging out with Mr. Murray the whole game and he probably saw all that.” Pat glanced back at you before looking behind you and quickly, guiltily, pulling his hands from your ass.

‘Perfect timing,’ you thought, as you could guess exactly who it was. Brian was kind enough not to mention anything as he approached his son. The father gave you a pat on the back before embracing his son. The moment was tender as you looked on at the scene of the father/son bonding, albeit a bit awkwardly. Brian held Pat by the shoulders for a moment and they both had shining streaks down their cheeks. You didn’t hear anything that had been said but you smiled softly, overcome with love for the both of them. The graying man approached you next, rubbing your shoulder and giving you a quick hug. “You kids have fun,” he said as he walked back to Joe, “and be safe!” He winked.

“God, your dad-”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Love him, though,” you joined the number 15 player as you followed the others to the snack shack, walking arm in arm, holding as much contact as you could while still being able to walk.

Maz ended up beside you when you all sat at the picnic tables with rainbow sprinkles on vanilla ice cream in a casual post celebration gathering. This gave you the opportunity to congratulate him and at the same time express your sympathies after the draft. “I mean, it’s alright,” he’d said to you, “‘cus this is really what it’s all about right here, you know? I mean these guys-” He laughed gently as David and Palacco ‘lovingly’ assaulted Ty with several scoops of ice cream to the face, “Dad was right. They’re what it’s about. Winning is awesome, don’t get me wrong, but I wouldn’t be here without them and- and it’s all just-” Without getting emotional, he could barely say anymore. “It’s not about me. It’s about family.” John sat back against the table and chuckled.

You patted his knee as you stood. “They wouldn’t be here without you either, Maz. Regardless of where you go from here, everything you’ve done has mattered to someone, to all of them, at least.” Your boyfriend approached you and you said one last thing to the star batter before moving out, “I mean, if you could hear the way Pat talked about you, you’d think you were his girlfriend.” He laughed at this and you grinned knowing he would appreciate it. “Be proud, no doubts, you’re loved, and all that shit.”

“Thanks, [YN],” John nodded happily at you and looked down for a moment at his melting cone dripping on the grass below him. Pat stood next to you now and whispered some suggestive suggestions in your ear. Shooting the younger Mazzello a sorry look he sent you off and waved you and your lover goodbye with a sly grin. “Go on, go have fun. I’ve had enough of the longing looks, get it out of your system.”

Pat laughed lightly and slipped an arm around your waist, furrowing a confused set of eyes at his friend’s comment, then at you. It made him wonder what type of conversation the two of you’d had. He led you towards the parking lot, flipping off the team he left behind as they wolf whistled, making a lot of correct assumptions of what the two of you intended to do in your early departure. You’d left your van parked around the side of the field in the nice shade of a small grove of trees. The keys clicked in the quieter, cooler, fresher air around you. Patrick leaned against the side of the vehicle, one arm up to support himself and the other placed on his hip, ankles crossed. He watched you a bit too intently as you unlocked the cabin of your old car.

“I can feel you looking at me,” you smiled, opening the passenger’s side door to manually reach around and slide open the spacious back of the bus, turning on the car battery in the process. Leaving the keys in the ignition, turning down The Damned, but leaving it loud enough to cover what sounds may come. He watched you do this every time. It came as no wonder to him why your cherished car was in such bad shape as you left the battery running to supply a soundtrack to your lovemaking. Eyes distractedly stalled on your midsection as he looked you up and down, Pat faltered as the car shuddered when the door opened and he was thrown off his balance. He caught himself, though, and shot you a slanted grin.

“You’re just-” He bit his lip, “-so fucking hot, and you’re all mine.” Settling into the cushy, creaking back part of the carriage, you grinned expectantly.

“Am I?” You cocked your head, “Maybe you should remind me again who exactly I belong to.” Dragging every word out, you purposefully teased the impatient man, unbuttoning the top of your shorts slowly.  

Like a switch, something clicked in him. His entire demeanor shifted from his almost toddler-like temper to something much more mature. Sitting spread eagle on the plush blankets you kept in the back for such occasions, you waited. He stared at you darkly, a towering shadow that filled the van’s open portal to the rest of the world. He filled in the empty space, deciding what he wanted to do first, how he would defile you in so many ways and what he would start with.

The interior smelled liked fast food, rubbing alcohol, and sweaty sex. Seeing as the main things you did in this car were eat bad food, try to clean up the stains left behind from said bad food, and, of course, fuck, the medley of scents came as no surprise. Around you were an array of cushions, blankets, and pillows all extremely soft to the touch. Not an inch of the original upholstery could be seen under the collection of plush covers. This made for the ideal landing as Pat pounced on you like a starved jungle cat as you look so very appetizing against the grey of the fur throw you laid on.

With him on top of you, you grabbed his cap and threw it to the side, kicking the door closed with your foot. Already against your lips, Pat straddled you, one hand on your waist and the other your cheek. The tops of your thighs pressed against the backs of his laying sideways in the cramped space. Holding his face to yours, his stiff, sweat dried hair curling between your fingers, you moaned. He smelled hotly of dust and fire, like a childhood summer day. The intimacy of the flood of memories he reminded you of only increased the sensation for you, heightening your attraction to him in a familiar, safe emotion.

His lips moved against yours, both of you sharing the same rhythm like singing along to an old song you never really could forget the words to. Open mouths clashed, teeth hit teeth, tongues knotted with tongues. His eyelashes brushed against your cheek as his wet kisses traveled down your face hitting your chin, your neck, your collarbone. Simultaneously, his hand pushed up your top, the other lifting you to help you pull it off. You let your arms drift above your head as he peeled the first layer off your body. It was only fair you would start unbuttoning his jersey and pulling at it, signaling him to take it off.

Before you could rip his undershirt off, he attached his lips to your neck, sucking hard to leave behind a noticeable deep purple love mark high enough it couldn’t be covered. You could feel his teeth graze your skin in a proud smile as your hot and heavy breaths turned to desperate, squirming moans. You gasped, gripping the fabric over his chest. He was glowing knowing only he could leave you in such a state.

Dragging a hot trail of saliva down your body, Pat stopped at your chest. He pulled away and stared down at your breasts with a shake of his head. “So fucking gorgeous,” he whispered. With one knee on either side of you, he sat up and pulled his red top off. Then he swept back down, suctioned back to your skin. He started behind your ear and peppered bites around your jaw, hands pulling your body to arch, allowing him the opportunity to remove your bra. You threw your head back and shimmied off the upper undergarment.

Your hands skimmed Pat’s bare chest, traveling upwards to his shoulders and past. Palms pressed against the sides of his face, you wiped your thumbs at the smeared eye black on his cheeks. His gaze was tied to your exposed chest and his breathing was heavy and hungry. Lips hanging parted, he slowly looked up at you through hooded lashes.

You smiled at the man hovering above you. Neither of you moved as you established eye contact while Jimi Hendrix played in the background. The van was hot between your bodies and the setting sun shining through the front window. Sweat beaded your forehead and your boyfriend went to push your hair back from your face, damp from the growing heat. “You’re-”

“You’re beautiful,” you finished. He laughed and it was like a Baroque painting before you. In a golden haze, his hair looked soft and he was glowing in muted tones. The tapestry pinned to the ceiling gave a dusty rose background to compliment the halo you saw around him. You pushed his hair back and pulled yourself up to kiss him. He took this chance to explore your body, mapping every inch of your warm, welcoming skin.

His fingertips were calloused and grey, dirt caked in the ridges of his prints, proof of the aftermath of the game. Rough pads walked down the center of your torso, stopping at your breasts. He took one mound in his hand, pinching your nipple between his thumb and his palm, rolling it slowly. You bit your lip and tucked your fingers under the waistband of his baseball pants and briefs, pulling them back and snapping them against his hips. Your eyes hung on the happy trail leading up his stomach. You traced it with the tip of your nail and his dark gaze settled on your face.

From his perspective, you were hidden in the shadows below him, hot and vulnerable. Buds of your breasts perky and hard, the dips of your stomach like a flowing river to your hips where your shorts sat a little too low, you were buried under filters of lust. The retiring sunlight hit the dust particles between you, floating through the air in slow motion like a love scene in an early 2000s, warm-toned, rom-com, the kind you spent Friday nights watching under three different blankets on the couch. You were dreamy, always, but especially now, a hazy, golden goddess.

“I want you, Pat,” you interrupted his daze, stroking his face and pushing his loose hair behind his ear. “Now.”

He blinked at you and grinned. “Oh, let’s go.” You smiled wickedly as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, you wrapped your arms around his back and slipped your hands on his ass. He engulfed you then gripped your shorts and panties, ripping them down all at once. A guttural groan left your throat and you wiggled out of your clothes. Pat had moved to one side of you, maintaining skin on skin contact whenever he could, and kicking off his shoes. Your body arched towards him as he retracted his touch. You shook your pants off your leg and laid baring it all for your lover in the cramped space of the vintage vehicle.

Pat was awestruck as you sat up, spread out for him, back to the driver’s seat. He paused with his pants stopped just high enough not to be truly explicit. You looked on with anticipation, one finger slinking its way between your legs. “Keep going,” you nodded at him. He complied with a lopsided grin and hot, hooded eyes. You rubbed two fingers against your clit and bit your bottom lip as he yanked his pants down, cup painfully sliding over his hard erection. He sat back and pulled off his bottoms, socks included, cock slapping against his stomach as he did so.

You snorted at him, unceremoniously slouched in the back of your small van. The sight was both pleasing and amusing, and far from being unfamiliar. Every time you’ve watched him undress in these four fabric covered walls, it felt the same. It had become something of a post-game ritual, defiling the backspace of your car while the oldies stationed tuned out the lewd sounds you made together.

‘She said, hey babe, take a walk on the wild side’, your lover crawled towards you as you spread your lower lips to welcome him, ‘I said, hey honey, take a walk on the wild side.’ Patrick took in the sight of your glistening sex and licked his lips. He sat back on a plush green throw blanket and pulled you onto his lap with a soft chuckle. He hummed contently at your lips against his ear, tightening his arms around your damp skin. You were straddling him, one arm slung over his shoulder and the other reaching for his member. The pre-cum leaking from his tip spread against your stomach as you pressed onto him, limber fingers wrapped precariously around his length. You pumped him slowly, hanging off his lobe by your teeth. This pulled a whimper from deep inside him, nuzzling against you. Thumb sliding over his head, you dragged the slickness down his shaft and sucked on his neck as he had yours. You were dripping for him and he could feel it. His knuckles went white, gripping your thighs with bruising strength. He nipped at your shoulder, leaving behind wet, fading love bites.

You were jostled as your boyfriend lifted you by your waist so he could easily access your tits, supporting you against the back of the driver’s seat. Pace quickening as your hand slid up and down his cock, his mouth latched onto your nipple, teeth brushing against it as he sucked hard. His thick fingers inside you scissored with fervor and you could feel every bend of his knuckles between your walls. Your free hand held his face against your chest and you moaned. Slowly, the cabin filled with the sweet scents of both yours and his arousal and sweat. You pulled yourself towards him and pulled gently on his hair as he replaced his lips with rolling fingers and paid his attention to your other bud.

“Fuck, Pat,” your breath hitched and you could feel him smile against your breast, “Pat, I want you-”

“I fucking need you, [Y/N],” his breathing was heavy as he detached from your chest, moving to look you in the eyes, “Soon.” It was a pleading look he gave you, far different from his on-field persona. With one last soft squeeze of his erection, you let go. He moaned at the release and you were up on your knees. He looked up at you from between your breasts as you flattened against him.

One of his hands slid between your thighs and your composure faltered, his cold fingers pressing past your nerve center and straight to your hole. He watched your face carefully, one hand on the small of your back, the other letting digit after digit push into your sex easily, slick secretion assisting in his effort to stretch you before his anticipated penetration. Blinking quickly, you twitch your hips at the knuckles deep in your pussy. Patrick grabbed your ass and began going in and out and in and out of your entrance with a quiet slap. To the rhythm of the Bowie song blowing out your damaged speakers, you hump his fingers and ride your rising pleasure ut before you can peak, you’re filled with emptiness.

“You fucking ready for me, babe?” Want was dripping from every syllable of his words as you looked down just in time to see him pull his slick fingers from his mouth, appreciating your taste every chance he could.

“Let’s drag this out, baby, today we got something to celebrate.” You caressed the side of his face and smiled softly. He couldn’t resist your whims and he knew exactly how to make this special.

He laid on his back and pulled you up by your ass, sliding your wetness along his torso. He lifted your waist and you compliantly moved your knees to either side of his head. “Then let me finish you off before we start on the good stuff, hm?” His smile was sexy as he adored you from between your legs, willing to put your sexuality before his need. His arms wrapped around your pillowy thighs, on hand holding your slit open and the other stroking your clit. A shiver ran through you as he lifted his head to break your first contact.

This was his chosen place of worship, kissing your core surrounded by the satin skin of your voluptuous legs. His religion was you on your knees and him on his back, the ecstatic expression you wore his deity. The fluid stained woven rugs and fur throws that shaped the interior of your chosen mode of transportation was the altar he so admired in the temple of you. Your skin was scripture and your acts together sacred, the hard rock you left on the hymns of your love. His metaphor was worn but as the last of the daylight threaded through the fallen waves of your hair, he couldn’t think of any words more true to describe this image of you.

He dove into you, starved of your taste. You were pulled down to his face, feeling his tongue probe the space between your lower lips, sucking at the labia and fully drinking up your nectar. You ground against his tongue, utilizing what he could to maximize your pleasure, the texture of his muscle overwhelming your senses. His nose pressed against your clit as his hands moved to go from grabbing your ass, supporting your waist, then giving his hands’ attention to your breasts. Your nipples were well loved as your pussy continued to be stimulated to the point of pushing you over.

Your whole body curved forwards, gripping his hair and supporting yourself with a fistful of the blanket. Uneven breaths drifted from your open mouth, heaving chest painted with small drops of sweat. Pat’s palm was flat against your back. Your hair flipped out of your line of sight as you threw your head back, lips forming a solid ‘o’. A wave of ecstasy rushed over you in your first orgasm of the evening, a musical moan, broken by sharp breaths. The lover beneath you lapped up every release of your spasming pussy until your curses died down to soft shudders. To avoid overstimulating you, Pat moved from your sensitive mound to drop hot kisses on your inner thighs.

The pulsing of your core subdued as you spent the next minute catching your breath. The van was filled with salty, hot air and Patrick held your midsection tightly as he sucked dark hickies on every inch of your shy skin he could reach. His face was coated in your juices, which was smeared across your legs, both sets of hands, and down your boyfriend’s chest. Letting his tongue glide over a fresh bruise just left in the crux of your crotch, his melted autumn eyes stared up at you with intense lust. He threw his head back when he was satisfied with his work and snorted, “You taste like a Goddamn fucking angel.”

His smile was goofy and gross, the juvenile delinquency of your act written all over his face. It made you feel like a teenager again, sneaking around with the angry boy your parents didn’t like. God, you loved him. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the situation. There you were, sitting on your boyfriend's face in the back of your musty van by the neighborhood baseball field and you weren’t even done yet.

You grinned down at him, “Shut up and fuck me, Murray.” The man smiled and sat up, catching you as you fell off him. You grabbed his face and pressed his lips to yours for a moment, tasting your own sticky, semi-sweet love on his lips before he pulled away to reach around you. Popping open the center console compartment with a click, he grabbed a condom and ripped it open with his teeth. “Care to-”

You took the contraceptive from him without letting him finish. He could understand the eagerness in your eyes and moved back expectantly. Holding up the plastic package, you frowned. “I thought we were celebrating?” You tilted your head innocently. Recognition flashed across his face and he raised his eyebrows. For the first time, the mood was broken, a Honda commercial really solidifying it for you.

“Are you- Are you serious? Are you sure?” The sweaty athlete’s eyes were wide at your implication.

You smiled slyly and nodded at him. “I’m on birth control and,” you shrugged, “I trust you not to have any weird, contagious rashes.” He laughed at you, happily, and you joined him.

“I can promise you I have no transmittable diseases, inspect me if you want.” His arms moved out to present himself to you.

You dragged a nail across the length of one of his arms and he cocked a half smile in your direction as he eyes your movements. “I’ve seen plenty.” You grinned and put your hands back on his cheeks, pushing against him in a kiss. Pat was quick to move, but you stopped him, hand flat against his chest. “You need a little prep, first, don’t you?” Slowly, he figured it out and sat back to give you more space to do your deed. Folding over yourself, thighs spread and arousal tickled by the thick woven rug beneath you, your face reached the waiting cock.

All the man could focus on was your long, batting lashes and your ass sticking out behind you. His tip was cold and wet from being untouched, but your spit dripped down it as you kissed the slit briefly. Patrick’s breath was shaky as you licked from the base up to the tip, making eye contact as you did so. His body weight was put on his locked arms behind him, leaning away from you, but he feared one more sex filled look from you would break him and he would collapse.

He nearly did when you first took him into your hot mouth. A groan vibrated through him and you felt it in your connection. Slowly at first, sparingly, you bobbed up and down on his length, soft lips sliding over every ridge and every vein. “Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck-” You picked up speed with his encouraging curses. Head thrown back, your lover focused on not cumming right then and there, doing his best to save himself for what came next, but Goddamn it, [Y/N], he thought. He’d let you know him far too well if you could break him into so many pieces so quickly. Tongue scraping at the side of the sensitive skin, balls being treated with care in your hands, and the pace leaving him a sputtering mess- You name filled the compartment like a rolling sea fog, all your senses overcome with his apparent need for you. His scent, his sounds, his taste- hot and salty. Seeing his chest rising with labored breaths, you decided he was getting too close and hilted him in your throat as best you could for a moment, teeth grazing his base and your nose buried in his happy trail, before pulling off at a painstaking pace, detaching from him with a ‘pop’, a string of saliva falling from between you.

It took a quiet moment for him to get his bearings at the disappointing cutoff. The drops of sweat sliding down the sides of his face were tinted with red from the adobe colored dirt he’d spent so much time on. Sitting back up and leaning towards him, you went to wipe the moisture away and he held your hand to his face, kissing your palm with closed eyes. He saved his high and gave you a quick, and ironically chaste, kiss before pushing aside discarded clothing articles and repositioning the two of you so he was above you once again. He took you by your middle and moved you to the side, growing increasingly impatient, seemingly recovered from his edge. Holding firmly to your ribs as he laid you down before him, he then pulled away to admire you again.

Under a young night sky, you were the only star he saw. Glowing in a post-orgasmic haze against the shadows cast by street lamps, you were a constellation of an impossible creature. Contrasting the true space you both existed in, his view of you was divine. Every beautiful thing in the heavens and the earth, he saw in you.

“Pat?” You furrowed your eyes in concern at his momentary stillness.

He blinked the clouds from his eyes. “God, sorry, fuck-” Shaking his head, he smiled slightly, “I got so fucking lucky. I may not be able to get a hit but, uh-” He chuckled before completing his favorite line, “You sure are a catch.” He winked and you gently kicked him in the shoulder. Catching your ankle, he held your leg up and held it over his shoulder as he moved to position himself at your open hips. “C’mon, it’s my best line.”

You impatiently rolled your eyes. “Are you gonna fuck me or not?” You motioned to your waiting sex, ready and slick for him. “I’m waiting-”

“-And I’m ready!” Patrick held up his free hand defensively before grabbing your hip with bruising strength. His dripping, neglected tip sat waiting at your entrance. His tone turned serious, “Are you?”

His genuine asking was comforting and you nodded quickly. His position over you turned you on even more, if possible, loving that he could see you melt in his hand and drip between his fingers. With one hand holding your leg up and the other stroking his excited cock, preparing to enter you. The sparkling space between your welcoming thighs glistened in the little bit of moonlight making its way into the vehicle. He slid his thumb through the wetness and you groaned in need. He chuckled at your response and you squirmed against the soft fabrics you’d been set on.

It was the moment of final satisfaction that you’d been building to all afternoon in the back of your sex-soaked bus. Your eyes were trained on his focused downward gaze and you could feel him press into you. It was a pleasant stretch you looked forward to but it was different this time, void of the protection you’d so cautiously used. You felt unequivocally full, natural, and satisfying like you were made to fit together like this. Scary, but exciting, this new sensation left you unable to control your breathing. Sharp inhalations were a sign to him he was doing something good. Pushing into you was easy with how much arousal dripped your sex, all the fluids of the night mixing together for a pleasurable experience. In and out, he took his time deepening the contact, holding tight to your hips, a nice pain shooting through you when he squeezed the old yellowed bruises he’d left behind from past rendezvous. Your eyes focused on him when they were closed in ecstasy, hands swiping furiously at your clit or alternating between your breast. Pat was in awe at the bolts of hot pleasure that traveled up his body at the raw feeling of you around him, tight, wet, and warm. He thought sex couldn’t get any better, especially not with you, but he was wrong. He felt every dip and fold of your tunnels against the ridges of his own skin.

You were sleeved around him as he picked up speed. Grunts fell from his pouting lips every time his hips slapped against yours. The sound could be heard over the still playing radio in the front seat. It seemed the amount of teasing the two of you subjected each other to left little resilience to the sudden relief of penetration as your boyfriend’s rate jumped from calculated, appreciative thrusts to messy, needy, heavy ones in a matter of minutes. “You feel-” He groaned as he hilted in you again, balls deep to the pleasure of both of you, “So fucking amazing-” The words barely came out. You tried to formulate a response but the heat filling your abdomen stopped you. What came out instead was a gurgled moan of agreement. Smiling at the sights and the sounds you produced, Pat was absolutely enamored by you in this new sensation. Tits bouncing as you shook with his slamming thrusts, your eyes rolling back with guttural groans from deep inside you.

Drawing from that pit of white-hot pleasure, you neared your peak and a higher pitched plead cam as a warning to your partner, “Can’t- Fuck, Pat- Almost there-” He got the message and the two of you shook together, his whispers of ‘me too, me too’ barely heard through the whimpers. No longer could sounds be differentiated from one source or the other as your bodies melted together in a moment of bliss. For the first time, the vehicle noticeably shook in your passionate lovemaking. His hands slipped down your legs, attention drifted from your clit to your navel to your hair as he doubled over to float parallel above you. Sweat from his tiring body rained on you and you pulled him closer. His face was buried between your ear and shoulder, biting away curses as he humped through his high.

“Fuck, that’s it-” The sliding stopped as his back arched first, pressing so hard into your crux, you were sure your entire lower half would be purple by the next morning. His member pulsed inside you and you could feel it swell with anticipation before your own pussy milked him for all he was worth. Streams and streams of hot, white pleasure flowed into you and you swallowed a scream. The sound that managed to escape was otherworldly and Pat loved it. You’d never felt this before, his love directly inside you, hot sloshing, liquid driving you past your point of return. You thought maybe it hadn’t been the physical sensation but the idea of how intimate the action was that had really given you your final orgasm. Either way, you had simultaneously arched against him and he held you up by your back as you squeezed with every muscle. Nails dragging down his spine, no doubt leaving red territorial marks down his sides as you rode out the ocean of intensity that washed over you. It made you curl your toes and tense your appendages around your lover like a boa constrictor and their prey.

Love came gushing from your connection and pooled beneath the small of your back, sinking into the layers of covers that cushioned the two of you from the hard vehicle floor. You didn’t think about the mess you’d made or the unfortunate task of cleaning it up and instead focused on the weight on top of you. Still, inside you, Patrick’s cock twitched as he’d nearly collapsed over you. The rhythm of your breathing synced with his and your pussy pulsed sorely, your entire body sensitive and raw. A shiver ran through your bones as you felt the hot mouth of the body blanketing your’s suction onto your neck one last time, licking over its handy work with a weak laugh. Your fingers laced through his damp hair and you turned your cheek to kiss his.

Your eyes were watering, maybe from the tense situation or the exhaustion that suddenly overwhelmed you now that the wire strings of arousal no longer hold you up. Pat felt the same way as he slowly pulled out of you and you winced. On his side next to you, you felt him pull you closer, nestling into your equally wet and disgusting hair. The entire car smelled awful and hot, the windows were grey and fogged up, blankets beneath you covered in God knows what. Closing your legs and turning towards the warmth beside you, you nestled into him, the feeling of your post-coital calmness was immortalized in the music you’d left on. ‘Goodbye stranger, it’s been nice. Hope you find your paradise.’

Maybe the lyrics weren’t a perfect fit, but somehow the melody found it’s way beneath your hot skin and soothed you. You remained this way for, you weren’t sure how long. Time seemed lost to the two of you then. Engulfed in his arms, you felt safe. The scene was grimy and explicit, your nakedness blending together, the leftover ejaculate dripping from your slit without care, the stained and discarded undergarments left unnoticed and hanging off the steering wheel. It wasn’t clean or safe, but for the two of you, it was nice. What that said about your situation, you didn’t care. This was your heaven.

“Good morning, Orange County! And what a lovely morning it is! We’d like to start the day with a little Springsteen, huh?” A hard drum intro led into a twangy guitar and the sonorous voice of Bruce Springsteen, ‘In the day we sweat it out on the streets of a runaway American dream. At night we ride through the mansions of glory in suicide machines.’

“Is it weird,” you’d said, “knowing all the boys are well aware of what we do? Including your dad?” You laughed a bit, leaning against him, still bare, under a furry quilt. The carriage of the vehicle creaked at your movements, audible now that it wasn’t masked by the heavy breathing of your fucking. The bohemian tapestry behind you shrouded the rising sun from your sensitive eyes, half open in a dream-like state.

Patrick planted a quick kiss in your hair, “I like they know you’re mine.” He took a deep breath, “And my dad can fuck off.”

After a pause, you looked at him and erupted in laughter. “He’s pretty cool, you know, for having to deal with a kid like you.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

‘Wendy let me in I wanna be your friend, I want to guard your dreams and visions. Just wrap your legs 'round these velvet rims and strap your hands 'cross my engines.’

Brian glanced at the phone as he prepared his breakfast. He was sure his son was fine, he’d gone nights without calling before, but by morning he usually had a message waiting for him. He tried not to think about what may have distracted him in order to keep down his first meal of the day. The radio played in the background.

‘Girls comb their hair in rearview mirrors and the boys try to look so hard. The amusement park rises bold and stark, kids are huddled on the beach in a mist. I wanna die with you Wendy on the street tonight in an everlasting kiss.’

The groundskeeper stared on worriedly at the shaking VW bus that had been parked behind the trees since before he’d gotten there in the small hours of the morning. “Fucking teenagers, disgusting,” he shook his head and turned away, earphones back in as he started up the lawnmower.

‘Oh honey, tramps like us, baby, we were born to run.’

[correctmianitequotes]

(A/N good god this one’s a long one. Sorry not really sorry? lemme know if they’re too long, too short, or just right. as always, feedback is always SUPER appreciated, and if you have any ideas for where the series should go, please please please tell me!)

DAY 2: TUCKER

It’s been about two days on the island. I’m just now getting hungry. I guess now that I’m not constantly sprinting around with heavy armor on all the time I use less energy. Who’da guessed. 

So around midnight last night, while we were collecting seeds and trying to avoiding mobs, Tom said he had something important to discuss. 

“I just want to say I’m calling trial right now. I’m calling trial because just now- Sonja came up to me- and punched me.” Jordan gasped while Tom nodded. Sonja sputtered indignantly.

“I-no I- I didn’t-” Her words were drowned out by Tom’s cool tone. 

“Don’t worry, we’re going to have a fair trial here. Tucker, what do you think?”

“I vote she’s dead,” I declared.

“I vote she’s off the island as well!” Tom concurred. “Drown yourself! Drown yourself, woman!” 

“Oh… okay… goodbye everyone.” Sonja waded into the now cold water and pretended to wipe a tear from her eye. She had taken off her shoes in the day and was walking around barefoot. Why? No clue. My girlfriend’s weird. 

Jordan, who had been quiet this whole time, diverted the conversation. “Alright, I’m tired of the mobs spawning. I’m lighting things up.”

“Yes, please,” I said. “Like a diamond, Jordan. Like a diamond in the sky.”

“Shine bright like a diamond~,” he sang, placing torches on the ground as he walked. 

“Oh wait, there are two zombie villagers over here!” Tom announced. “We should keep them and turn them back into villagers!”

“Oo! Yeah, let’s lure them into a trap, I got this,” I responded, digging a 2x2 hole in the ground.  Jordan made noises of uneasiness. I walked up to one of the zombie villagers and punched it twice. It started coming after me. Even walking, I outpaced it easily. My teammates were trying to trap the other one. I led my zombie over to the pit. “Come ‘ere, baby.” Unfortunately, the zombie was too smart for its own good and kept going in circles around my pit. 

“We got em! We got him in the pit!” Tom exclaimed. “Right, what should we name him?”

“Larry!”

“Terry Crews!”

“Oh, I guess Terry works,” Jordan conceded. “Still got that -erry theme going for it.”

“Dude, I need some help, this dude does not want to go in. Can someone please come and, like, punch him in here?” I asked.

“We already made a pit,” Tom said. “Come over here.” I followed him, and the zombie followed me. I walked around to the other side to tempt it to come and get me while Tom came up behind it to push it in. 

“Come’ere buddy,” I said. I gave Tom the signal. Tom ended up shoving it WAY TOO HARD and sent it flying RIGHT INTO ME.

“OW TOM WHAT THE SH- I JUST TOOK TWO DAMAGE!” I roared, reeling back. 

“Sorry mate, I guess I’m just too strong,” Tom apologized, flexing his muscles. Jordan laughed and took a swing at the zombie. It started coming back towards me. I felt the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I gave it a light tap towards the pit.

“Dude, just hit him in there! Haymaker ‘im! Haymaker ‘im!” Tom cheered. I backed away. 

“I don’t wanna kill it!” 

“Tucker, it has so much health compared to your measly fist!” Jordan prompted me. Now Tom laughed. 

“My measly fist is so strong, though,” I said, looking to my girlfriend. “Right, Sonj?” Sonja just grinned at me. She was watching from the sidelines, letting the boys do the hard work. 

Tom and Jordan teamed up and punched him back over to me. I was up against a ledge in the sand, and got hit again. And again. I was taking some real damage. I screeched in fear, scrambling away towards the torches. 

“Alright, I’m out, I’m not doing this, you guys suck, this was not worth it at all,” I ranted. Right as I said that, Tom and Jordan managed to hit it into the pit. I never realized how well they worked together until our final purge, when they teamed up briefly and absolutely wrecked everyone else. When they actually put their minds together to collaborate, they’re pretty unbeatable. 

I went back to the sand hut to heal. I had gotten hit pretty bad. I watched the entrance as Tom confronted two spiders and a zombie at once. He had gotten hold of an iron sword (probably from Jordan) and started beating the zombie back. This zombie had somehow gotten chain armor, which is weird because this island looks like it’s never had humans on it, ever. Instead of hitting the zombie and getting a nice thwack, all Tom got was a dull clink as his sword came in contact with the armor. Sonja came over to help with her stone sword. 

“Sonja, get out of the way,” I heard Tom mutter to her, concentrating on landing the blows just right. In the two and a half days we’ve been on the island, Sonja has already wandered into possible harm’s way twice now. The first time was when she was checking out the mine and kept walking in front of Jordan while he was trying to swing his pickaxe. 

“Sonja, get out of the way!” he reproached, nearly goring her with his stone pick. 

“Sorry!” she replied. “I’m just so curious!” 

“Well come be curious over here,” I said to her. She’s not very good at being aware of her surroundings. While Tom can never stay on task, she gets tunnel vision and ignores everything around her. Jordan’s good at both. It’s unconscious for him, I think. He’s been through so many worlds that checking over his shoulder is natural for him. If anyone of us makes it to the end (which we all probably will, ‘cept for Sonja. Sorry Sonj.), I think it’ll be him. 

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .   .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .

Anyways, back to the zombie fight. Sonja took out the spiders while Tom hit the zombie again and again. Finally, it dissipated in a puff of smoke, along with the armor. Damn. 

“I’m getting pretty hungry. Tucker, do you still have those apples?” she asked me. I clicked my tongue and shook my head. “Nah, I had to eat them. I’m still about half way away from being all healed up, and I need food too, so.” 

As the sun rose, so did our need for food. I could hear Sonja’s stomach growling. I wasn’t super hungry, but in order to properly heal I would need at least another apple or something. 

 It was actually Tom who came up with a solution. “Alright, this is now Team Fishing, bitches,” he announced. “Who’s fisharooing with me?”

“I’ll fish,” I offered. “Let’s go on a fishing trip. It’ll be fun.” I stepped over to the water and sat down on the sand, preparing to cast. 

Sonja’s voice distracted me. “Alright, these two chickens have banged and now there’s another one, should I kill one for food?” I frowned and put down my rod. 

“Don’t kill the chicken,” I told her, making my way over to her. 

“Well, no, I made them bang, see, and-”

Out of nowhere, I heard screaming behind me. I whipped around and saw Tom clutching himself, staring at a tree that had apparently just grown. Jordan, who had been right near him, was laughing. 

“Wait, what just happened?” I asked. 

Jordan laughed some more, putting his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Dude, are you okay?” 

“YOOOOOOOOOOOOOO,” Tom yelled. He didn’t seem to be injured, from what I could tell. “I AM AGAINST TREE GROWTH!” He started marching around, pulling up all those saplings I had planted. 

“What just- what was that?” I asked again. I’m still not really sure, but from what I understand- 

Wait. One second. 

Okay, so Tom has requested that he gets to write the part where he nearly died on day 2. I’m handing the pen over to Tom. 

Okay, so I was just walking around the island, when suddenly, I stepped over a sapling, and it just- f-ckin- grew on me! The tree was just like, “nope”. And it hurt alot, too! I have splinters everywhere, I’m going to be picking wood out of my toes and torso for days. Anyways, I am now #antitreegrowth and will now chop down any sapling that I see. And that is the story of I nearly died to a f-ckin tree. F-ckin Groot. Alright, peace, homies!

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .   .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .

Okay, so I just got the paper back, and I see that Tom doesn’t know how to spell “a lot”, so nice going Tom. 

Anyways, once Tom’s near death experience was over, we got back on track with fishing. I cast my rod into the water and sat down on the beach again. 

“Any extra fishing rods I could borrow? I can help with fishing, too,” Jordans commented. 

“Right, because we need food,” said Tom helpfully. (See what I mean about not staying on task?) He and Sonja were talking about breeding when I felt a tug on my rod. I jumped up excitedly and pulled. I reeled in my spoils. 

“GUYS, I CAUGHT A FEESH! A one pound feesh!” I exclaimed. I immediately went to put it in the furnace. It was a decently sized fish. Definitely not enough to feed a crowd of 10,ooo people or whatever Jesus did, but definitely enough to stop hunger pangs. 

“Aw nice!” Tom said. He gave me a thumbs up as he chopped down a tree with personal intensity. “Can I please have it?”

I thought for a moment. ‘Of course not, I caught the damn thing.” If I didn’t heal up these zombie wounds soon, they would get infected and I would end up looking like Tom (I would still be better looking than Tom, of course, but I like having non-green skin and not having to cover most of my body to avoid catching on fire when I stand out in the sun too long). Then I thought about how Tom did kind of save my ass from zombies earlier, and almost died to a tree, and how it’s always a good thing to reward Tom for remembering his “pleases” and “thank yous”.

“I’m putting it in the furnace for you,” I told him, sliding the fish in there. I’d eat the next one that I caught. 

“Really? Aw, thanks, man.” Tom sounded sort of surprised. I went back over to the ocean, where I saw Jordan standing with a fishing rod that he had borrowed from Tom. I plopped down next to him. 

Jordan sighed. “This is gonna take so long,” 

“Wanna crack open a beer?” I joked. Sidenote about me, I actually like fishing. It’s relaxing, and there’s a bonus in the fact that you get to eat something once you’re done. Just as I said that, I noticed Jordan’s sinker disappear.

“I got something”

“Reel it in, reel it in!” 

When Jordan pulled his line in, however, he did not get a delicious fish. He got an enchanted fishing rod! Lucky bastard. 

“Tom, here’s a return on your investment. One fishing rod,” Jordan said, proudly presenting his rod to Tom. 

Tom took it and checked it out. “Wait, now all three of us can fish!”  He jumped down the sand bank and sat in between Jordan and I. 

“That’s really odd, though. Like, we’re in the middle of nowhere. How did a fishing rod get out here?” Jordan wondered.

“Same thing with the armor and the zombie!”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe we aren’t alone out here. Maybe other people have already been here and died and we’re next.” Everyone got quiet for a second, contemplating this theory. Then Tom broke the silence by launching into what he believed what was the history of this great island. Still, the idea that we weren’t the first lingered in my mind like the smell of fish in the air.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .   .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .

We fished and shot the breeze for a couple of hours. Whenever we caught one, we would hand it off to Sonja, who would put it in the furnace while she worked on improving our base.

“I had no idea this would be so efficient!” Tom remarked. 

“E-fish-ent?” Jordan made that face he makes whenever he tells a stupid pun. Sonja and I groaned. Tom laughed, but Tom laughs at everything Jordan says. 

Sonja popped up at the top of the sand bank. “Hey tucker, do you need some feesh?” 

“I do, actually.” I responded. She dropped it on my head. 

“Wow, thanks Sonj,” I said, gobbling it up as fast as I could without choking on the bone. I started to feel better after that. Now all I needed was a good dip in salt water and bam! No more worrying about getting mistaken for zombie (or worse: Tom) and being killed by one of my teammates. I decided to wade into the water and sit down in the shallow part, letting my wounds take in the salt water. It stung a little, but the water was cool and it felt nice. Once we caught enough fish to last us a little while, we all went about separate tasks. I was in the mine when I heard Sonja say to no one in particular, “Where did my rabbit go?”

“Why’s it your rabbit? It’s gonna be our rabbit,” I retorted. 

“I guess so… Yay! I found him!” 

“What’s his name?” Tom asked. 

“Hmmm... “ Here we go again. It’s basically a law a law that you have to name every single thing that moves. First the zombie villagers, now this.

“Well he kind of looks like a cow…” 

“Name it Moo the Rabbit,” I suggested. “Or Bud.”

Sonja sounded like she liked that name.“Moo! Moo the Rabbit.” 

I ventured back up to the surface. I had gotten loads of iron and coal. The sun was setting again when I got up there, and I could smell porkchops. I saw my girlfriend chasing a bunny around, Jordan working on the house to make it less crap, and Tom improving our farm so that we could breed the cows that had appeared. I took a deep breath and smiled. We are gonna make this work. 

Well, either Tom or Sonja’s recording after me, so you’ll find out what happens next when they writes it all down. I’m actually pretty stoked. Good things are ahead.

Signing off,

Jericho.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .   .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .

[chungha-supremacist]

No borders - Chapter 2

word count: 5003

SUMMARY:

“It’s just us 5 right?”

“Forever.”

“No men allowed… ever. Let’s promise to eachother that we will never let any man come in between us!”

“Never!”

Naive promises told at a young age, just between 5 best friends. They promised their world to eachother, “best friends ‘till death breaks us apart”. 10 Years passed. The same 5 girls, but no longer blinded by those “stupid promises”. It will be broken. The promise of a lifetime. The lust of love is what makes us all see unclear. We lose our friends, or soulmates, we fall for the unknown, we fall for lies and for the feeling of being important to someone who will drag us far away from who truly matters.

“Forget about the world… forget about them… right now, it’s only me and you. They don’t need to know that I love you.”

CATEGORY: F/F; F/M

Fandom: RED VELVET (Band), NCT (Band)

Relationships: Park Sooyoung / Kim Yerim; Bae Joohyun / Kang Seulgi; Son Seungwan / Nakamoto Yuta

Characters: Park Sooyoung; Kim Yerim, Bae Joohyun, Kang Seulgi, Son Seungwan, Seo Youngho, Jung Jaehyun, Nakamoto Yuta, Dong Si Cheng, Wong Yuk Hei, Lee Taeyong, Chung Ha

Additional Tags: friendship,angst, mistrust, lies, cheating, lesbian interactions, smut, fluff, fashion, models, rich life, etc

RATED: SMUT, FLUFF, ANGST.

CHAPTER 2

Sooyoung found herself in the most awkward encounter with her alleged “boss” at the dinner, in a pub where all you could see were horny couples grinding on eachother on the dance floor and drunk dudes whistleing and winking at her. She felt out of context, especially because all Yuk Hei was doing was drool over every chick who would pass his sight.

“Could you be any more obvious…” sighs Sooyoung.

“Jealous?” says Yuk Hei now smirking at her.

“You’re drunk. Maybe it’s better if I will drive your car to your home, so that I make sure WE get there safe and I can take the subway to my home-“

“I’m not drunk, Sooyoung. I just wanna have some fun tonight, whether if it’s gona be with you or with some random chi-“

Sooyoung was so full of it that her punch met the table in the loundest way possible which made Yuk Hei forget his words.

“Hey.. I was joking, ok..”

“I am not joking here, Yuk Hei. If you just wanted me to come here for you to get me drunk and get laid with me, you should’ve said so. Goddamnit, boys are all the same!” screams Sooyoung, now being angrier than ever before, while grabbing her purse and running out of the pub.

She felt like tearing up. She can’t stand this feeling anymore. Every guy she tries to even be friends with, they all end up wanting “something” back… She is sick of these “species” called males.

“SOOYOUNG!”

Sooyoung doesn’t bother to turn around and she wipes the small tears from her eyes hearing Yuk Hei running after her. Soon, he catches up to her and grabs her hand firmly, turning her to face him, centimeters away from eachother.

“What.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what. Nothing happened there, I’m just tired. Take me home. Or I’ll take the subway.”

“I’ll take you home Sooyoung.”

They were now standing in the even more awkward silence than the atmosphere at the pub. Yuk Hei was pretending to be focused on driving and Sooyoung was desperately refreshing her messages waiting for a message from Yeri who seemed to have been offline the entire day. She sighs.

“What’s wrong..?” says Yuk Hei while putting one hand on her leg.

“Don’t touch me.” And she throws his hand away.

Yuk Hei suddenly stops the car at an empty gas station.

“Sooyoung, I know you don’t have a good impression of me-“

“Damn right.”

“But tonight I invited you to change that.”

“Does it seem like it worked?”

“No.. but I want to make it work.”

“What do you even want Yuk Hei…”

“You.”

Sooyoung swears she gaged at this word.

“Excuse me?”

“Sooyoung… give me a chance.”

“You are my boss!!” quietly screams Sooyoung.

“So? I’m technically not. I am just the chief of your department Sooyoung, and nobody would care anyway. One chance. Let me prove you that you are the only woman I’ve been thinking about lately.”

The strong smell of liquoir was now filling Sooyoung’s nostrils and she knew what she had to do.

“You are drunk and saying nonsense. Grow out of it. Tomorrow you wont even know what you just said now and you will get back to sleeping with 10 different girls per night.”

“That is not true!!” protests Yuk Hei.

“Oh yeah? Tell me more of how you fucked almost all the models from our company until now except me and Chung Ha. Hmm, I wonder WHY you chose exactly me and her to go out with you tonight. Luckly Chung Ha is not a stupid, sensitive person like me.”

Now Sooyoung feels more uncomfortable than ever. She just wants to run out of this stinky car.

“You- How do you know that??!! You got proof, honey??!!” screams Yuk Hei, now seeming like a monster in comparison to the innocent Sooyoung.

“I- BECAUSE I HAVE EARS YOU DUMB SLUT! DON’T YOU THINK I TALK WITH THE GIRLS YOU USE?? Don’t you think they cry to me after you ruin their lives with sweet lies, promising them the moonlight and in the end, leaving them on the edge of killing themselves??!! They feel like worthless whores after you use them!” Sooyoung can’t believe she just had the guts to say this.

“Sooyoung.” Says Yuk Hei while locking the doors of the car.

“W-what. W-what are you doing??” Sooyoung is now on the verge of crying and screaming.

“I will teach you a lesson, Sooyoung. Right here, right now.”

Yuk Hei unzips his pants and Sooyoung swears that she’s going to start crying.

“Yuk Hei please… Let me go, I don’t want you.” Cries Sooyoung while hitting on the door to open.

“After this, you will want me, baby girl.”

He takes his pants off revealing his expensive underwear and his very erected member.

Sooyoung is a smart girl. She wipes off her tears and crawls on top of him.

“See, you already know what you have to do baby girl. Now please your boss and maybe we’ll see about a promotion or something-“ but Sooyoung turns around and presses the button to unlock the doors. She falls on the stone-cold ground of the empty gas station and starts screaming for help. Right when she gets up, Yuk Hei grabs her hand animalistically and covers her mouth. Sooyoung bites with all her power on his finger and Yuk Hei screams in pain. She left her purse in his car, but she couldn’t care less. She is now running, screaming for help, but there was hardly anyone on the street. She runs for the subway station where she finds a tall man, dressed in a suit, lazily scrolling on his phone while waiting for the subway. She runs to him and grabs his hand desperately like her life depended on it. The male stands up in fear.

“Please help me. I am being chased.”

“By who?”

“There is a guy! Tall, black hair, wearing a black shirt and blue jeans. H-he is trying t-o-“

“Don’t worry, stay by my side and if you see him, I will make sure nothing will happen to you, alright? Calm down please.”

Sooyoung takes a seat next to the man who looked so neat and who smelled like vanilla. She is trying to catch her breath when she realized her shirt was half unbuttoned and she lets out a small cry.

“I’m sorry…” she sobs.

“It’s alright. Don’t worry.” Says the man trying to reassure the insanely scared girl.

The subway arrives in the station and they both go in, no sign of Yuk Hei still following her.

“Do you think he is still looking for you?”

“That guy… He is my boss… I will have to face him at work… Or at least when I will apply my resignation.”

“Aha… Do you live far from the subway station where you get down? I can take you to your place if you’re still scared.”

After what happened, Sooyoung couldn’t trust anyone. Especially a stranger. She had no phone or money whatsoever at her so she had no one to call.

“May I use your phone..?” she quietly asks.

“Of course.” Says the man while taking out his huge, expensive phone.

Now the problem was: the only phone numbers she knew were her mom’s, her aunt’s and… Yeri’s. But Yeri hasn’t answered all day to her messages and calls, why would she answer now… She’s probably asleep. But she still tries her luck. She calls.

…

“Hello?”

Sooyoung swears she will start crying hearing the reassuring words of her best-friend.

“Y-yeri-ah… It’s me, Sooyoung. Joy.”

“JOY??!! Is this a new phone?”

“N-no.”

“What is wrong?” and now Yeri’s voice turned darker and more serious than ever.

Sooyoung starts crying.

“Y-yeri.. can you come pick me up from the subway station please.”

“SOOYOUNG WHAT IS WRONG??!! Yes!! I’m coming right now!” there is a pause and then Sooyoung hears the voice of a male on the other end, talking to Yeri and telling her ‘See you some other time?’. Sooyoung’s stomach ached.

“What was that-?”

“What was what? WHERE ARE YOU JOY??!!”

“In the subway, im getting down in 2 minutes. I’ll explain when we meet. Bye.”

…

The man smiles at her.

“Is everything ok? Is someone picking you up?”

“Yes yes! Thank you so much, Mister! This is where I get down… Thank you again…”

Sooyoung must’ve bowed to the man 50 times because she couldn’t thank the him enough.

When she exits the subway, there she is, Yeri, in the most gorgeous dress in the world, a silky black dress complimenting her body like a crown compliments a princess’ head. She worriedly runs to hug Sooyoung tightly and puts her jacket around her.

“Sooyoung… oh my godness… what happened??!!”

Sooyoung wipes her tear of happiness after seeing Yeri.

“Yuk Hei. I went out with him.”

“What??!! Your boss you mean??”

“Ex-boss. I aint walking in that office ever again.” Sobs Sooyoung while being guided by Yeri.

“Oh no… What did he do…”

“He tried to rape me Yeri.”

Yeri could swear she is going to punch a wall. She feels as anger grows inside of her and she feels like both crying and go look for the guy who did this to her other half.

“Soo…young.” Yeri finds her words terribly hard. “I cant believe this..” and she falls into Sooyoung arms, hugging around her small waistline. Sooyoung pats her head and they both start crying under the dark sky filled with stars.

 ---

It is the next day and Irene shows no sign of being calm, standing in front of all the girls, after Sooyoung told them what happened.

“Where does he live???”

“IRENE!!”

“What?? HE needs to pay!”

“And what? You will go and fight him with your pilates movements??” replies Seulgi, making Wendy burst a small laugh.

“Hey.. I think the best way to deal with this is calling the police, right?” says Yeri. “This was almost harassment!”

“ALMOST, Yeri. The police cant do anything if it DIDN’T ACTUALLY HAPPEN and if Sooyoung has no sign of harassment on her body like bruises, hickeys, blood, cum.”

“I do have some bruises from when I fell on my knees…” says Sooyoung looking to the ground like being embarrassed to talk about what happened.

“Doesn’t prove anything!” screams Irene, being on the verge of giving up. She cant take stressful situations for shit.

“Ok ok ok. I see all of us are stressed here so what about: Sooyoung, you give your resignation throught email to the main CEO of your company so that you don’t have to go there and give it yourself and encounter the bastard. Next step, buy you a new phone.” Says Wendy.

“With what money…” replies Sooyoung demolished by the thought that she is now jobless.

“We will help you sweetie!” says Seulgi while kneeling in front of Sooyoung and massaging on her knee like a mother reassuring her daughter.

“I cant girls- I cant let you do this for me… I need a new job.”

“I think I can solve this…” says Yeri.

“Wait? What? How? I thought your company doesn’t accept any new models?” says Irene.

“Not me… I got a.. well… friend who can help you.”

“Friend??” gasps Wendy.

“The guy.. The guy I went out with last night.”

Wendy swears she choked while hearing about him.

“The photographer huh?” she says.

“Yes! Him.”

“Wait what- What guy?” says Sooyoung more confused then ever, until she realizes the male voice she heard last night through Yeri’s phone.

“He is a photographer for my company and for another company aswell. He also said  his other company are looking for more models since they are at the beginning and she asked me if I know any girls willing to do this and guess what-“

“No.” says Sooyoung all of the sudden.

“What??!!” screams Irene. “ Are you crazy Sooyoung??!! This is the best opportunity ever given to you!”

“No… I don’t want the mercy of your boyfriend, Yeri.” And with this, she leaves the room leaving only silence between the girls.

“H-he is n-not my boyfriend.” Stutters Yeri, trying to catch Sooyoung not to leave the house.

“You said y’all went out huh? Wasn’t it like a “date”?”

“I mean… It was but Sooyoung… He’s not my boyfriend, actually, I don’t think we have much in common, I don’t know.” Says Yeri trying to find her right words with her clearly jealous “friend”.

“Problems in paradise…” whispers Irene.

“Irene!!!” screams Seulgi.

Irene is now smirking while leaning on the wall. Seulgi swears sometimes she wants to rip that cocky smile off Irene’s face. She thinks too much. Her mind always “overthinks”. Irene thinks Sooyoung likes Yeri, but Seulgi denies this.

Sooyoung is now back in the room with the girls, sitting next to Yeri who is hugging her, to soften down the panicked friend and try to convince her.

“Sooyoung.” Says Wendy while biting her lip, not knowing if what she s about to say will affect her future… “I think you should accept working for Yeri’s… um.. friend.”

“Yees! See, all of us encourage you, Sooyoungie! Come oon! He is soo nice, you have nothing to worry about! I also heard one of his models is the Instagram Model Seo Soojin!” reassures Yeri excitedly.

“WAIT FOR REAL?” gasps Seulgi.

“Oh my god Seulgi, your crush is showing off…” sighs Irene.

“SHUT UP! You know I love Soojin, I follow her since she started her career!”

“Why don’t u marry her then…” says Irene sassily while looking at her nails.

“Irene… fine, I will shut up…” pouts sadly Seulgi and looks to the ground.

Irene smirks again. Knowing that Seulgi wouldn’t do anything over the power of her word. She basically has Seulgi at her little finger… and she loves it.

---

It’s been a day. The girls spent it all together, watching 2 romantic movies at which Irene wanted to puke 5 times and Wendy didn’t pay any attention. They cooked together, played video games and had silly conversations. Nothing unusual.

Yeri is now alone, on the hallway, calling her photographer friend.

…

“Hello. Hi Yuta, it’s me, Yerimmie.”

“Of course, you don’t need to say who you are you know? It says when you call” says Yuta sarcastically, while letting out a small laugh.

Yeri seemed unphased but she left out a small laugh for the situation to not be awkward.

“So, you told me about your other company and that you are looking for new models?”

The conversation goes on, Yeri basically begging for him to take her bestie, Sooyoung, as a model at that company. They both come to the agreement that Sooyoung needs to come to an interview with him and his friends, the ones that basically run the entire company. He reassures Yeri that they are a trustable company, after Yeri summed up to him what happened to Sooyoung last night with her alleged “boss”.

Wendy listened to the entire conversation. ‘Yuta.. this sure is an unusual name… just as beautiful as the man who owns it…’. Wendy caught herself thinking about him again. This is bad Wendy. BAD BAD BAD.

---

The following day, Sooyoung is more nervous than ever. She just sent her resignation through email to her CEO and she is waiting for an answer while she is getting ready for the job interview Yeri arranged for her. Sadly, Yeri wasn’t available today to come with her, since she had work to do, a runway most exactly, very important and couldn’t miss it. Irene refused to come because she “had better stuff to do”, Seulgi cried about how she has too many photos to edit and the only one left was… Wendy.

“I-I don’t think it’s a good idea…” stutters Wendy knowing that if she goes there, she will see Yuta.

“Comee onn!! Why not! You re the only friend I have left who doesn’t have work to do today. Please!”

“H-how do you know I aint got work t-to do..?”

“YOU DON’T WENDY!! You just said yesterday ‘Oh man, I cant wait for tomorrow to come since I have nothing to do but to laze around’.”

“Oh my god…” Wendy facepalms herself. “You really pay a lot of attention to what I say don’t you…”

“Yes. Now get ready. Dress up formally since not only me, but my bestie has to make a good impression too.”

“Whatever.. all im gona do was cheer cringely for you anyway….”

Still, she knew she will meet him. She had to look good, at least decent.

Wendy decides to go for a green, college-like sweater with a pair of skinny black jeans that complimented her legs like no other, some black knee-high boots and a leather jacket.

Sooyoung was wearing her hair in a ponytail, dressed in a flowy dress, Balenciaga Triple S shoes and a Balenciaga jacket.

They soon leave Sooyoung’ s apartment and they get In her car where she starts blabbering about how nervous she is. Wendy couldn’t help but not focus on what she was saying. She was nervous. She was just as nervous as her best-friend. Maybe even more. ‘No wrong move, Wendy.’ ‘Don’t look at him, Wendy’ ‘Don’t faint, Wendy’. It is BAD BAD BAD.

There they are. In a huge, 45 storey building, all glass everywhere and the most futuristic furniture. Dinamic walls that imitate a waterfall are welcoming the girls at the entrance desk, where an inasanely gorgeous woman in a suit waits for them with a big smile.

“Hello, ladies.”

“Uhm, hello m’am.” Says Sooyoung. “My name is Sooyoung”

Wendy hits her with her shoulder.

“Park Sooyoung” she adds.

“Oh, yes, that’s right! You ve got an interview in 5 minutes, right?”

“Yes! She,, she is my friend, Wendy. She came to support me, is it ok is she comes with me.. please?” pleads Sooyoung with her puppy eyes.

“Yes, of course. All of us need a back-up friend, an interview can be very stressful! Floor 35, Room 102. You have a changing room right next to it. You have the outfit you need to wear waiting for you there. Here is the key to the locker. Good luck!”

She sounded like a little machine at this point, together with her robotic smile. This made Sooyoung even more nervous. In the elevator, Wendy is adjusting her hair.

“Why are you even prepping yourself so much? Its not like you are the one being interviewed…”

“You said it yourself. In order to make a good impression, you need your friend to look just as good as you.” Says Wendy cockily.

“Ugh…” sighs Sooyoung as they get out of the elevator.

Everything is set and done. Sooyoung has changed into the interview outfit which was way less revealing than the one she had to wear for the previous interview for the other company. She felt relieved. This meant they are not some creeps like Yuk Hei. Wendy reassures Sooyoung by telling her she is gorgeous and that she will do well. She combed Sooyoung’s stunning slightly curled hair and now she looks like a princess. She is ready. But, is Wendy ready for what’s about to come?

 “Hello.” Bows Sooyoung politely as she shyly enters Room 102.

She is greeted by 3 of the most beautiful males in the world. Sooyoung is feeling it again. She will stand in front of 3 males. 3 insanely gorgeous males. They looked like models for the biggest modelling company. She couldn’t believe her eyes that they were just some CEOs.

She is followed by Wendy who refuses to look at the table where the 3 men where standing. She greets them with a small bow and stands next to Sooyoung as she is introducing her as her friend and asks for permission if she can stay during the interview.

“Of course.”

She heard this voice, this so familiar voice. She finally gains courage and looks up at the table. There he was, the man she has been dreaming for 3 days now. The “forbidden” temptation. He had his hair pushed back now. His blonde hair was now sleeked back, leaving sight to his forehead. He was wearing a white shirt with rolled up sleeves, showing off his expensive Rollex. His accompanied friends weren’t any lower than him.

“You can take a seat next to us” kindly but intimidatingly  says one of the others. “ My name is Dong Sicheng and I am the CEO of this company. I want to welcome you here first, and wish you luck. I wont be talking during this interview, I will let my mates do this.”

The CEO was definitely something else. A slender man, but very good-looking. All dressed in a black suit and a red tie. His auburn hair looked insanely sharp, as it was styled with care like it was the creation of God. He sure was intimidating. Standing there, not saying a word but analyzing every move with the attention of a tiger aiming for it’s prey.

“My name is Kim Doyoung. You may introduce yourself” said the last man of the 3.

She recognized him. Sooyoung. Sooyoung knew him. It was him. The man that saved her in the subway. The insanely kind and amazing guy that offered his phone to her. The tall and handsome male was looking at Sooyoung like he knew her. He recognized the girl and gave her a reassuring smile. She could read a warm “everything will be alright!” on his face, just like two nights ago. He looked just as sleek as that night. Suit, pushed back hair with a sense of gel in it.

Wendy quietly sat on the other side of their table, next to Doyoung, so that she wont have to sit next to Yuta. She felt followed. She didn’t know why but she had the impression he was looking at her. Even if she knew, its all in her panicked head. The males smelled absolutely heavenly. She felt like she was sitting among the angels.

Sooyoung was doing so well, she was showing off her amazing body in the most sensual ways and the males seemed to show now sign of “perversion” at her presentation. They seemed formal and professional. This boosted Sooyoung’s confidence even more, knowing she is not showing herself off to some “preditors”. Wendy smiled to Sooyoung the entire time, but she couldn’t help not stare at Yuta while he was focused on studying Sooyoung. Wendy analysed Yuta like the most surreal painting you find in a museum, trying to uncover his secrets. She wanted to know more. She wanted to know him. She needed to approach Yuta. But no. This is BAD BAD BAD.

Sooyoung was now done and the males sent her to the changing room to put back her casual clothes. Wendy was left alone with them. She felt like the minutes became hours. She was sweating so bad and the silence was a killer. Until one of them broke it and said “What do you think?”.

“Isnt it weird for us to talk about this next to her friend?” said the CEO, Sicheng, nonchalantly, like Wendy couldn’t hear them just perfectly.

“Don’t mind me… I can leav-“

“No, theres no problem.” Stopped Yuta.

She swore her heart fell to the ground and came back to her chest. It meant nothing to him, he was just being nice and a professional man, but yet, in her hopeful mind, she hoped that maybe he found the slightest interest in her.

The males were filling the room with their deep, rough voices as they were talking about Sooyoung. In the end, they decided to accept her. Wendy jumped off her seat unconscioudly and screamed a small “YES!”.

The males were staring at her blankly. Except for Yuta, who started smiling and broke the silence with a small laugh.

“You must be really happy for your best friend. Especially after what I heard happened to her. I am so sorry.” He said.

That was it. She felt like there was only him and her right now.

“Y-yes. She suffered a lot. You guys gave her a chance to be happy again and gain her own money, she is a very hard-working person, don’t worry about it!” added Wendy, trying to be as serious as she could.

Sooyoung entered the room and Wendy could read on her face that she was extremely anxious and nervous. She ran to hug her. This made Doyoung and Yuta smile a little. Sicheng looked at them and rolled his eyes. The man for sure was the most professional here and he was very stiff. He announced Sooyoung that she was accepted, gave her a timetable, a key to her new private locker and changing room and a list with all the phone numbers and the names of them and the models of their company. Wendy’s eyes widened when she saw Yuta’s number on that paper. But, she would never have the courage to ever use it… Would she?

Right after saying goodbye to them and before leaving, Yuta calls for Wendy.

“Hey, I just wanted to know, are you by any chance the girl that was at Yerim’s apartment when I came to take her? You seem familiar, that’s why.” Said Yuta while gathering the scattered papers from the desk.

“Yes. Its me. I also recognized you.” Says Wendy slightly awkwardly.

“Ah, that’s nice. So if im friends with Yeri, I guess we can be too… or?”

Wendy swore she felt like she was just asked to prom in the 7th grade by the cutest guy in the class. But they were two grown up adults. Yet he made her feel so comfortable, so childish around him.

She rushes a “Yes, yes! Of course!”.

“That is great” he shows a sweet smile. So sweet she feels her feet melt. His whole face took another meaning when he smiled. “Ask Yeri or Sooyoung for my number, if you ever need anything or just want to… you know, see eachtoher at a coffee or something.”

“Ah. Yes, sure!” she couldn’t think of anything smart to say. She was brainwashed.

They were now in Sooyoung’s car, on their way to Seulgi’s place where they all were planning to see eachother and celebrate Sooyoung’s new job. Wendy was looking on the window the whole way home. She was smiling. She was happy. She was feeling for this man something she hasn’t ever felt before for a man, and she had many meaningful relationships throughout her life. But never has she dreamt at a man the way she keeps thinking at this one. Next step: she had to know what Yerim truly feels for this man! She had to know if she has to erase him forever from her memory or if maybe she has a chance.

They got to Seulgi’s place where they were greeted with arms opened by all the girls. Even Irene seemed truly happy, she had a wide smile that the girls haven’t seen in so long.

“Soooo… HOW DO WE PARTY TONIGHTT??!!” jumps Yeri excitedly.

“Why don’t we go to the club?” proposes Seulgi. “I don’t really want to clean up over a party that we would hold at my place”.

“I would help you…” mumbles Irene.

“Shuut up! I want in a club!” protests Seulgi who seemed like a child who wants candies.

“I am alright with this!” says Wendy while staying on her phone, looking for clubs.

They all agreed in the end, more or less they had to drag Irene there. They were all getting ready and Yerim was in the bathroom doing her make-up since the whole bedroom was packed with the other girls. Wendy saw the perfect oprtunity. Now it’s the time. Now or never.

“Yerimie…” says Wendy shyly cracking the bathroom door open to make sure she wasn’t gona walk on to Yeri being naked or something.

“Yes, Wendy?”

“Hey…” she scratched the back of her neck. “You know… just a question…”

“Sure, what is it” says Yeri nonchalantly while applying lip gloss.

“I just wanted to ask you, you know, just from pure curiosity. How was that date with… what was his name..” she pretended to forget the name she has been having in mind all the time.

“Yuta. It was… nice I guess.”

“You guess?” she felt her heart skipping.

“Yeah. The guy is ok, very charming, handsome, well mannered, a real gentleman. But I don’t really wanna mess into a relationship with my photographer. It would be slightly weird and if we ever get to break up, I could never pose for him again, it would be awkward.”

“I see…”

“So yeah. But I am interested in keeping to see him. You know, as friends I guess. I don’t really know what else to say about him.”

“Aha… Alright then, I was thinking to take a shower before leaving, are you done with your make-up?”

“Yes, just now. You can have fun in the shower.” Says Yeri while smirking and patting Wendy on the shoulder.

This is exactly what she needed to do. Relax herself, make her lose her mind for a moment. She could lose her mind but he would still not leave it. Wendy enters the shower and pleases herself thinking about him, hoping that he does the same.

 The girls are now all prepped and ready to go hit the biggest club in Seoul, Octagon. Any male that would see them now, would feel their boner kicking in. Five insanely hot girls, all dressed in leather skirts, dressed or pants, crop tops and high heels being the main star of their outfits. They looked like they were heading out for Seoul Fashion Week, not for a club night. 

Little did they know was that tonight was about to be a night to remember, forever…

[miguels-talons]

Silenced Tongue- Part 1

Warning: This fic has graphic depictions of torture; including the sewing of human lips. If you are uncomfortable with this, then do not read this fic. There will be kinder fics in the future from me.

ok right off the bat... sorry guys. ya’ll be leaving me a ton of cool ideas to write, then im over here writing something literally no one asked for and something probably no one wanted aside from me lol. besides, people were wanting angst, and this has angst and ton of pain 

sorry atreus

anyway, enjoy:

Atreus doesn't know how long he has been in his captor’s grasp before he woke from unconsciousness, but he knows it's been long enough already. He groans, sitting up from the hard ground his captors has left him. He lifts a hand to his aching head, noticing the iron shackle around his wrist. Normally, if held like this- which was one other time, his father doesn't much like him being in the enemy’s hands- he would use his magic to make them unlock. However, upon further observation, he curses silently when he sees glowing runes etched into the metal. So they must block his magic and keep him from using it.

He sighs heavily and looks around where he is currently; what appears to be old ruins, it would seem like. He's on the edge of a large, circular stone, huge rocks stacked around the circumference in different patterns. Nearby, he can see what looks like tents and a campfire. And, sitting around the fire, are a group of dwarves.

Ah. So he was captured by dwarves of all creatures. Father would not be amused. He's not amused.

They don't seem to have noticed he's awoken, yet,  though. He could try to find a way to escape while they haven't noticed.

He reaches under the sleeve of his armor, thanking whatever god is listening- probably his father, then- that they hadn't patted him down. He finds the lockpick hidden underneath his wrist and pulls it out, setting to work on freeing himself. When the shackle clicks off, he lightly sets it on the ground beside him and slowly stands, glancing towards the dwarves.

And stops when he sees that they're no longer there.

He's just thinking of how terrible a fool he was when one randomly appears beside him. “Well, boys, would you lookie here,” the dwarf snickers, moving so fast Atreus can hardly see him. He ends up getting a fist slammed into his gut. He wretches and is then pushed to the ground as another of the dwarves kicks his backside.

“The little bastard is awake!” another of the dwarves exclaims, licking Atreus square in the face. He falls to his side, rolling just as another dwarf appears out of nowhere, landing where his head had just been.

“Woah!” Atreus exclaims, hopping to his feet, backing up until he hits one of the boulders surrounding the circle. He pants, looking from dwarf to dwarf as they slowly approach him, each holding a look of ill intent in their eye. Maybe he could somehow get out of this. Dwarves weren't exactly the brightest of creatures, after all. “What is going on? Why did you kidnap me?”

“Don't act stupid, bastard,” the first dwarf said. He was the tallest of the three with a set of golden armor similar to Sindri’s- though, of course, it doesn't have the same attention to detail. “We know who you are.”

“And we know what you will do,” says another, the shortest of the bunch. His armor is ragged cut fur, covering most of his body.

“And we know how to stop you from doing it,” the lay dwarf finishes and Atreus can now see how similar they look. Brothers, perhaps?

“I honestly don't know what you're talking about,” Atreus says, hoping he sounds confused enough about the situation to their thick skulls. “You must have the wrong person.”

The dwarves pause and look from one another. Good. His words are working so far. Maybe he could push a little more. “I promise I'm just some random mortal Midgardian who was out hunting with his Midgardian Father when you attacked us.”

They begin to mutter to one another. Atreus begins to slowly inch along the face of the boulder, thinking that he could possibly slip away. “And look, I’ll even leave, free of charge,” he said. And then he's darting around the boulder, sprinting down the side of a hill the ruins are situated on. He wobbled forwards and back to keep his balance as he hurries down the steep hillside, nearly losing his footing once or twice.

“Get him!” one of the dwarves shouts from behind and he knows they're chasing him now.

Atreus clears his throat and gathers his magic back to him, yelling out the words of a tracking spell. One that his father knows as well, and that will tell his father where he is currently. “Jag är här!” his voice booms from his mouth, echoing loudly around him and soaring through the sky. In the direction of his father. He sets off that way, hoping to try and at least meet him halfway.

But then the tallest dwarf appears in front of him, punching him in the face before he could stop. He stumbles backwards, nearly falling again because of his body’s continued inertia and he grabs at his throbbing nose, sure that it was broken as blood trickles from it.

“And where do you think you're goin?” the dwarf demands, grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking his head towards his face. Damn. A dwarf is still taller than him. He really needs to have his growth spurt already. “We ain't finished with you yet.”

“Yes, well, I could hardly breathe around you three,” Atreus snarks, unable to help himself. It's his last line of defense. “You stink worse than the World Serpent’s breath.”

The dwarf growls, slamming his fist back into Atreus’s face. Atreus sputters and throws a blind kick, hitting the dwarf in the shin. He tumbled back a few steps, drawing in another deep breath, readying himself for another spell. “Jeg opfordrer-!”

But a fist connects with the back of his head before he could finish the incantation. He bites down on his tongue, tasting even more blood just as a knee slams into his stomach. He ends up coughing, splattering the blood on the ground that was suddenly very close to him.

“We’re gonna need to do somethin about that tongue of his, aren't we?” one dwarf asks of the other two. They all snicker.

“I have just the idea, brother,” a second agrees and ah, Atreus had been right. They are brothers. He looks up, vision blurry just in time to see the dwarf reach into a sack hanging from his hip not unsimilar to Sindri’s, pulling out a clump of long, golden string. Atreus’s stomach turns when a needle is pulled out afterwards. He doesn't know what they're planning, but he knows whatever it is, it's not going to turn out good for him.

“Clever, brother,” the third dwarf remarks, taking the needle and thread from much thicker hands into his more nimble fingers. Atreus’s eyes widen as they look towards him, malice in their eyes. “To shut the bastard up, we just have to sew his lips together, after all.”

Atreus’s heart stops and he kicks at the ground, scrambling to get away from them just as the two larger dwarves dive at the ground, grabbing him by the armpits and forcing him back. He kicks and thrashes, pulling at his arms and struggling best he can to get away because oh gods they're actually going to do it. “No no no-!” he screams, drawing in another breath, a quick spell coming to mind, “Pola poltta-!”

But a hand slaps over his mouth and then his head is getting slammed into the ground. He chokes on a cry, not willing to give them the satisfaction as the dwarf with the needle bends down. “Keep the bastard still,” he said, threading the golden string through the needle. “This may take a while.”

The dwarves then situate him to where his stomach is pressed to the ground, the tallest dwarf digging a knee into his spine, holding his arms by his wrists, while the other is holding a handful of his hair, one hand gripping his chin in a vice grip. Atreus tugs at his head, trying to yank it back but the dwarves hold firm and he can only kick his legs- not that it does much for him. He kicks and thrashes best he can just as the third dwarf crouches in front of him, raising the needle towards his face.

“This ought to silence your silver tongue, Loki,” the dwarf spits his mother’s given name out like it were poison. And then he's pressing the tip of the needle through Atreus’s skin where his lip begins. The boy’s entire body jolts as the metal needle slips through skin and lip, through the bottom and lip and through the top where the dwarf pulls it through fully, dragging the string after it. Atreus’s head snaps, trying to jolt backwards, but the dwarves hold firm, even as his body instinctively thrashes.

“Stop stop stop stop-!” Atreus screams but the dwarf holding his head forces his mouth closed by grabbing both of his cheeks, applying enough pressure to keep his jaws shut. He continues trying to thrash, trying to fight as the needle is now forced through his top lip. He can feel the cool metal needle sliding through his flesh and skin, can feel the golden thread dragging after it, pulling his top lip towards his bottom. He now willingly keeps his mouth shut as they pull the needle through for the fifth time- the thick string is forcing his lips to stay together, yes, but it is also too blindingly painful for Atreus to try and open them again. This would cause the string to pull on the new wounds in his skin.

Blood seeps down his chin and drips to the ground beneath him and what feels like an eternity of agonizingly slow minutes to Atreus sluggishly pass. The dwarf dragging the needle and thread through Atreus’s lips is nearing the other corner of his lip. The other two dwarves have slackened their grips, having found the boy limp and unresistant now as the pain completely set throughout his entire body. In fact, if it weren't for the dwarf holding his head up, Atreus probably would have already pressed his head into the ground. Smashed it in, too, probably.

And finally, finally, the dwarf pulls the string through the opposite corner of where he had started. He removes what's left of the thread from the needle, tucking on it a little- Atreus flinches and groans softly- to make sure it was in good. Satisfied with his work, he ties the two ends into knots. Then, he shakes his blood covered hands and smirks at his brothers.

“Finished,” he announces, standing straight up. “I feel like he won't be causing anyone else any trouble for a long time, brothers. What do you two think?”

The large dwarf removes his knee from Atreus’s back but still the boy does not move. He hovers in front of the boy, scrunching his eyes to examine his brother’s work. “You sewed pretty crooked there, brother,” he points out, touching the middle of Atreus’s top lip, a dark amusement in his eyes as the boy whimpers in pain. “Perhaps we should redo it?”

Atreus whimpers more at the thought of going through that utter hell once more, finally letting the tears he'd been holding back up to that point run free. He just wants to go home. To wake up from a nightmare.

He just wants his father.

“No, no, brother,” the third interjects, letting Atreus’s head drop to the ground as he stands as well. “We wouldn't want to waste our precious string on this vile silver tongue, now would we?”

“Right you are, brother,” the first agrees. “Shall we be off then?”

“Well, it seems our work here is done, so let's,” the second said.

And then, thankfully, the dwarves leave.

Atreus curls in on himself, tears flowing quicker as he begins to hyperventilate. His body instinctively tries to open his mouth to draw in the quick breaths of air that it needs, only for the strings to tear and more blood to gush out and for more pain to explode throughout his body. He sobs loudly, body lifting from the ground so that he could tenderly like at his sewn mouth, sobbing more as even this causes more pain.

His young mind could hardly even process how much agony he was in currently. It was just too much and he knows he was going into shock but he couldn't stop it as his back arches, body shaking as it tries to gain the air it so needs.

He ends up thankfully passing out.

At least he can't feel the pain when unconscious.

~~~

yea... i kinda feel bad for doing this to atreus but like... i hadnt written anything brutal in so long that i really really wanted to.

Anyway, tell me what you think. And yes, there will be more parts. At least two or three more parts if I continue to be motivated to write it.

REBLOGS>LIKES

Tag list(let me know if you want to be added):

@northeasternwind @cinderletters @ali-alal @thesupernova411 @the-fungeon-of-lady-lazarus @foxteeeth @hexxous @nekorse @sugar--happy @sehumksh @izzyhere @magicpandacats @pinanolada @immortanholmes999 @astronomical-gays @elitatheblackcat @atreus-kratos-mythology @shade-without-color

@anafogg

[just-another-winchester]

The Scream

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word count: i don't know, it's short.

Warnings: Angst, death of a child.

Summary: Dean has heard many screams before... But this one is new.

A/N: So, i found this in my notes this morning. I have this really weird super power where sometimes i write while im asleep. And... Thats what happened here so... Enjoy.

FEEDBACK IS MY SUSTENANCE!!!!

Everything happened all at once, people were hurt, mistakes were made, and stupid accidents happened.

Dean Winchester had heard all sorts of screams. The screams of a banshee, the screams of a person dying in agony, the screams of different kinds of monsters, the screams of his mother, of his father, of his brother, of his best friend, and worst of all…

The screams of you, his wife, and of your son, his child.

Pain is an evident thing in this world. You can choose to let it, and it’s existence, control your life. Or you can fight it, you can know that all the pain in the world, it eventually comes to an end.

Dean overpowered the pain time and time again. He had to, he always had to. He had his little brother to worry about. Would Sammy be okay? Especially if he was hunting… would he survive on his own? Dean had faith in his brother, he knew Sam would be alright, but that didn’t ease the worry.

Then came you, the strangest woman this Winchester had ever come in contact with.

At first he didn’t trust you. He didn’t know you, so of course he didn’t trust you. You just came waltzing into his life like you belonged there, like you owned the place. And of course, now you do.

Neither of you expected to have children, it wasn’t on your to do list, it wasn’t something you were planning or even hoping for, but when you’re married to a man who looks like that… well, things happen.

You were Deans life, his very existence was now steady on you, as your own existence was on him. You were a family, you, Dean and Sam. Together you could fight the world and you knew you’d win. But then with the baby… well, baby makes four was a strange thing.

Dean had been in shock of course, but ultimately pretty excited and scared. Same  'new dad’ routine you’d witnessed in people over the years. The only difference was that you were pretty sure no one else worried about a werewolf eating their kids or Satan himself trying to use their child against them.

When time came and your son was born, everything fit into place. It was like that puzzle piece that had been missing since you opened the packaging of your relationship was finally discovered, hiding away in one of the folds of the box.

Placing down the piece, well… the picture was a good one. And you loved it.

You lived a normal life, well… semi normal anyway. Your son went to school, you made friends. You were still always the weird one, but you were okay with that. The other moms and women could talk all they wanted, you still had the best looking guy, and just the best guy all around. You knew it, and they knew it.

Fast forward to now. Your son is only four years old. Completely innocent, just a sweet boy, who loves his daddy, who loves his mommy, who should never have come out of the shadows, who should have stayed hidden like his father told him.

And then there it was. The scream that Dean had never heard, the scream of a childless mother. Of a woman who found her baby, no matter the age, it was her baby, this scream pierced his heart and stabbed him. He was dazed, and it took him a moment before he realized with horror…

That scream was coming from you.

Dean looked to see you across the way, crouched on the ground with your son, enveloped in your arms, you muttered and cried, begging your child to wake up, to open his eyes and look at you. It was desperation, because you knew he was gone.

It was just a total accident, a fluke. He wasn’t supposed to be there, but he was… and now he paid the price for it. But so did you.

Dean practically crawled to you, injured and bruised as he made his way to you. Each cry you released sent a pang to his heart, he almost couldn’t hold back the tears… almost.

You were rocking your four year old in your arms, tears streaming down your face as you held him. Dean approached you, gently placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N.” He whispered, gently trying to take away your child.

You flinched, then jerked away, kicking back and away from him.

“No!” You practically screamed, but Dean was persistent, and tried again,

“Y/N.” He said soothingly, again trying to remove the small boy from your arms. But alas, your motherly instincts were stuck, you refused to let anyone, ANYONE touch your child, even his own father. He was yours, your child. And you alone had failed to protect the most precious thing in your life.

You fought back at Dean, turning away from him as you held the child. “He’s mine, he’s my baby. You can’t have him you can’t take him away!” You cried, utterly heartbroken.

That wasn’t even a strong enough word for it… heartbroken.

Dean saw the agony you were in, and yes… it was agony, because he was your child. And he was gone. Your husband looked at you and almost couldn’t handle himself. His son, gone. His wife, suffering a pain he couldn’t heal. And he himself was suffering the loss of a child now, his emotions were betraying him, kicking him in the gut.

You remained curled up, scooted away from Dean as the man sat on his knees, he looked at you with pain in his eyes. He didn’t know what to do… this wasn’t something he could fix.

He wanted to reach out and touch you, but he knew you needed a moment. And he gave that to you.

The both of you remained there for a while. Sam was the only on looker. The pain that man felt for the both of you, watching you lose your child. He hated it, wishing he could turn back time.

Finally you calmed down, and Dean managed to touch you. He gently tried again, to remove your child from your arms, but again you resisted.

“No,” you begged, “no please, he’s mine… he’s my baby.”

Dean kissed your forehead, his arms wrapping around you and the child, his green eyes turning to meet the gaze of his brother, and with a shared look Sam nodded and came towards you.

As you sobbed against Dean, finally accepting the comfort of your husband, Sam walked up and gently, carefully removed your child from your arms.

It took about a millisecond for it to register, you shot up and struggled to get him back, but Dean stood with you, keeping you wrapped tightly in his arms. You kicked and cried, trying to reach for your child, desperate to hold your baby.

That was when you noticed the funeral pire.

It felt like someone punched you in the throat and the heart at the exact same time, you cried, kicking, you began screaming, and the screams only got louder as you watched Sam wrap up your child.

“No, NO HE’S MY BABY PLEASE GOD NO!!” You begged and cried, fighting Deans grip. He only held you, his arm wrapped around you, one hand held your head against his chest, his arms firmly gripping you, taking the brunt of your pain and anger as you fought him.

You both watched, a piece of your heart dying as Sam placed your child on the small pire, lighting it and watching as the flames began to overtake the bundle of wood. You felt like you couldn’t breathe.

You couldn’t breathe.

Your innocent child was gone. And you were left to scream and cry and beg, but to no avail…

Because he was never coming back. And not Dean holding you could ease that pain, nothing could. And for Dean? All he could do was watch the flames lick the sky as his heart hardened, just a little bit more, as he tried to focus on anything but his own personal agony.

MY TAG LIST IS WIDE OPEN!!!!!

Dream Team

@spn67-sister @queen-of-deans-booty @ria132love @winchestergeekfreak @maui137 @katymacsupernatural @jayneysimp @emoryhemsworth @just-another-busy-fangirl @bunniesowlsandwhales @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @mogaruke

Dean Team

@akshi8278 @polina-93 @aubreystilinski @-lovepeacenhope-

[wtfnoie]

A thing I did for class. It was a para for a rp, but I turned it into a 3 page story. 

Backstory: Luke was on a reality show, show was having a reunion, Calum wasn’t going back; dating Michael; Luke has a son. Word count; 1370 tw; mentioning death

There was a lot of things Luke thought he would never experience and losing his best friend at nineteen was one of the many things. At least it was one thing he never wanted to actually deal with. His biggest regret was the last fight he had with Calum. It was a stupid fight, as they all were. It wasn’t their biggest fight in almost ten years of friendship. They had gone weeks without talking. Like the one time after Jacoby was born and Luke almost didn’t want to see him and Calum called him stupid and dragged him to LA. Luke remembers him saying he would never forgive himself for not being in his son's life and that he was being a selfish teenager. Which to be fair, he was only seventeen at the time. Yet Luke couldn’t stop thinking about their last fight, replaying it over and over on loop in his head.

“You’re so stupid. Honestly who thought this would be a good idea. Better question who allowed you to have a motorcycle license. Don’t you have to pass an IQ test first?” He frowned looking at the shiny bright red bike sitting in his driveway. His best friend grinning proudly perched atop it holding his helmet in his left arm. “Dude you’re daughter just turned one! And do you know the stats for motorcycle crashes?!” He all but screamed at the dark haired boy, who just chuckled and shrugged. “You worry too much Lukey poo. I’ll be fine. Wanna ride?” Crossing his arms and shaking his head letting out a heavy sigh. “No. My son needs me. I have a family to think about. Something you should probably think about.” Thinking back, he may have been over reacting. Calum was the smartest out of their friend group, the only dumb thing he had ever done was get a drunk joke tattoo.

Grabbing his phone and taking a picture of the reunion invite, before going to send it to Calum. He had to stop himself, remind himself that Calum is gone. He didn’t want to face those people without his best friend. What was he supposed to say? How do you respond to the ‘Im sorry’s and ‘I know it’s hard.’ He had already gone through that. And the last thing he wanted to do was deal with it from a bunch of fake people. People who will try to share fake memories, or say Calum was such a great guy.  When in reality Luke knows damn well they thought he was an asshole. He’d have to go back to where they lived, and get flooded with Calum everywhere. Three years wasn’t nearly long enough to grieve and now how he had to put on a brave face and act okay. It was something that had to be done, not for himself.

It was the Saturday before they left to the reunion. Luke was out picking up last minute things he would need for the trip. Snacks for Jake, an extra suitcase, little things that he had been putting off in hopes of getting out of going. As he was driving home he took the same road he took every other day, stopped at the same flower shop like he did every other day, and picked up the same flowers he got every other day, and made his way to the cemetery like he had done every other day for four and half years now. Parking in the same spot he parked every time, and followed the familiar worn out path that had quickly become like a second home.

He sat down, in his spot and cleaned off Calum’s plaque. He did this regularly. Usually he would do it on his way home from work, or on his way to work. Even when he just needed to think or be alone. But he always made time to see his best friend. Just to sit and talk to him, and tell him about his day, show him pictures of everyone. And just keep him updated on life. Luke picked up the old flowers, and threw them out, replacing them with the new ones.Luke put his phone on do not disturb before sitting down.  “Hey cal.” He said softly smiling. “It’s the ten year reunion, tomorrow. Gonna be weird seeing everyone besides you.” He got comfortable as he continued to talk to him. He really needed to invest in those butt cushion things. He took a deep breathe looking up at the sky leaning back on his hands.

“I was planning on asking Mikey to marry me this week. Weird to think you won’t be there, or at the wedding. Remember how you would tease us back in highschool and always say we’d be the first two to get married. Never thought it’d be to each other. Can’t even ask you to be my best man. You’re an asshole. You just had to leave me.” He said chuckling as he wiped a few tears away. “Still going to ask him. He has no idea, I haven’t even hinted at it in awhile. I know you’ll still be there for me. You’re always there with me.” He sat up crossing his legs. “I stopped by your parents earlier.” He continued. “I wanted to see all the family before I left for a week. You know your mum, said I was too skinny. She made me food, and we talked about you.We always do. She shows me pictures, and we talk about how much of a brat you were growing up. Mali stopped by too.  She misses you. Everyone does. I’m still waiting for you to walk into my house and say just kidding. And I’ll punch you and call you an asshole. But you’d be here with us.” By now his voice was barely a whisper and his cheeks were tear stained.

“I love you Calum.” He said running his fingers over the engraved words. “I shouldn’t have to be sitting here, and telling you this way. But I am and life sucks. I don’t want to say I told you so again. But damn it Calum Thomas, I told you it was a bad idea.  I wish I could take you with me. I’ll miss you everyday, and think of you.” He was rambling by now. It’s what most of his visit consisted of. Him rambling to Calum about everything and anything. Just like old times, before everything happened, and they would just sit in his or Luke’s room and talk about anything. All of their dreams, their hopes, their plans. Remembering when they talked about ruling the world.

Luke was in the middle of putting Jake to bed. He had just walked out of his room, when his phone started ringing in his pocket. He frowned not recognizing the number, but answered anyways. Within a split second his whole world crumbled around him. He didn’t remember much, but dropping to the ground and crying. It’s where Michael had found him. His best friend, his older brother was gone. They had told him he was speeding around the bend, and ended up under an eighteen wheeler.  

Luke wiped his eyes again, and checked the time, two hours had already gone by.“I love you Calum.” He said again as he started to stand. “I’ll see you again in a week. I’ll tell you how everything goes, and if Mikey says yes. I actually told your mum my idea. She said you’d be happy for us. I’m having my assistant bring you new flowers while I’m gone. Be good while I’m away. Bye Calum.” He said softly pressing a kiss to his fingers tip and leaning down to press it against his grave stone. “Love you” He whispered one last time and walked back to his car. He took a deep breathe, and started his car. With a heavy heart he pulled out of the space and started his journey home. There are some things he wished he never took for granted. Time, his loved ones, and time with his loved ones.