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billthedrake · 7 months

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THE BOARDROOM (PART FOUR)

This chapter probably works better having read the previous ones.

ENGLISH AND ITALIAN TAILORING

I had been spending the winter taking some time away from The Boardroom gatherings. Some of it was giving Ethan his space and not trying to claim The Boardroom as my space, even if it kind of was. I knew my ex would flourish there, and at that point he needed it more than I did.

Besides, I was doing a lot of travel and work had been crazy busy. I had made sure to prioritize my gym and exercise time, as well as my diet. After that I didn't have a lot of energy for anything else.

I enjoyed a lot of masturbation time, for sure. I experimented with watching non-suit porn. I got off to a lot of it, but generally enjoyed going back to the tried and true suit scenes.

The Boardroom had a series of gatherings that didn't do it for me. Power Suit Night. Vests Night. Sheer Socks Night. Fashion Week. I declined at each RSVP and gave other guys a spot.

I even missed the semi-annual Executive Board Meeting, since I was out of town for work. But I was pleased to hear from Ethan that he'd been promoted to Junior Executive. His new suits and regular attendance in my absence had paid off.

Now I realized I was due to host. And maybe it was the increasingly spring weather, but my libido was bouncing back like crazy. A Boardroom party sounded like just the thing. And I had my English-tailored pinstripe suit waiting to make its debut.

I sent out the email:

"Hello Gentlemen of the Boardroom - Next meeting is devoted to English and Italian tailoring. Priority to the men with the real deal. Soft shoulder or English draping. Slim silhouette or waist suppression. RSVP English or Italian wear. Waitlist of others who appreciate European tailoring. Men not in English or Italian clothing can wear only accessories at the Boardroom this time."

"That's genius, Bill," Ken wrote, with his RSVP for Italian.

Marty had an Italian sport coat and trousers, which was good for me.

Kevin was the only other exec to RSVP, but didn't have an outfit.

But the Junior Execs and New Hires came through. Darren said he'd wear an English suit. I wasn't surprised to hear he was the only other regular with one but as it happened, an Interviewee was visiting from England and expressed interest.

John was a Junior Exec I'd not seen too much lately. After his promotion, he'd started dating someone exclusively. I guessed that was now a thing of the past, since he responded that he had an Italian suit he'd love to wear. One the Newer Hires, another Mike - Mike 2 - chimed in that he had just come back from a destination wedding in Italy and had something appropriate.

I didn't want Kevin to be the only one in just accessories, so I admitted another non-suit wearing guy, a New Hire, Rick.

Since it had been a while since I hosted, I splurged on a nice suite at the Four Seasons Downtown. I normally channeled my spare money into attire, not hotel rooms, but I figured I had saved money by not going on dates the last half a year.

I showed up early and got everything ready. Setting out lube, towels and spare tissues, along with some glasses of water to help with clean up.

Mike - Mike 2 as we called him since he's joined since Doctor Mike - was the first to show up. I didn't really know him, but he was good looking, kind of a regular 30yo gay guy, fit in that New York way. But his suit made him look killer. Nice rounded shoulders, tan color that showed off his brown hair and blue eyes.

"God, fuck, that's a nice suit, Bill," he said as he walked into the suite. I stepped back and let him get a look. Yeah, I was proud of this one. It was British tailoring, definitely, but I'd chosen a fabric and silhouette that wouldn't look too out of place in New York. I'd paired it with a pink shirt with a spread collar, a windsor knot on my repp tie, and for shoes I went with my Edward Greens.

"Thanks," I said. "You're looking amazing... nice introduction, I'd say."

"Agreed," he smiled. I could tell he was throwing hard in his suit, which I loved. I mean, all of us guys in the Boardroom had the kink, but some men just really embraced the horniness of a good suit. Mike cocked a grin. "We should probably wait for the others to fool around?"

"We don't gotta," I said. And like that, I stepped up and ran my hand along his shoulder, the light-weight wool perfectly molded to his strong delts. His hand went right for my crotch, working up my boner in my trousers.

We kissed. It was a hungry, horny kiss as our hands took in each other's suit.

Just then a knock came. I laughed as I broke up the impetuous make out session with Mike. Marty was there, with beefy Mark. Marty's sport coat was great, but maybe paled in comparison to Mike's full-on suit. Mark was in casual clothes, but as he came in, he began removing everything but a pair of socks and sock suspenders. On his meaty build, the look was pretty damn hot, especially because his cock filled out to full staff showing off for us.

Darren arrived next. He had more that English country gentleman look, the brown-green plaid looking incredible with his tall lean frame and chocolate-brown skin. Marty was already pawing at the coat and trousers. He and Darren always had some chemistry, and the English attire was drawing the man like a moth to a flame.

Over in one corner of the suite, nearly-naked, beefy Mark was on his knees, sucking Mike in full suited attire.

I enjoyed watching, squeezing my crotch, then I decided to join the action, stepping up to Mike and smiling at the cute guy. "He's good, huh?" I asked.

Mike nodded. "Why don't you pull your dick out and see for yourself." OK, Mike 2 had a domish edge that surprised me.

I grinned, reaching down to do just that. "Oh I've had his mouth," I said. I wagged my hard cock in Mark's direction and nudged it against his cheek. The guy got the picture.

"It's been a while, Bill," he said, looking up from my dick and up to my face.

"Yep," I replied. "Why don't you show me what I've been missing."

"Fuck yeah," he hissed. Mark loved sucking dick. The more the better, in his book. I grunted as I felt that talented mouth descend on my pole. It had been way too long since I'd come to Boardroom night.

Mike laughed as he watched my reaction. I looked at him and I felt that magnetic charge again. We kissed and I felt his hand run along my lapel. I was getting way too into this, but thankfully Mark pulled off and started blowing Mike. I pulled back from the kiss and looked over at the other guys.

Kevin was here now, and was on all fours on one of the beds next to Marty. Both men had their trousers pulled down and were making out while Darren went back and forth, slowly fucking in full country-estate wear.

And I noticed that Rick had arrived. I gathered he was a finance guy, from his demeanor and previous attire. But he didn't have on any clothing now, not really, given my accessories-only stipulation. And damn, the dude had a body that wouldn't quit. Ripped and toned, not huge but densely muscular build for his 5'10" body. It was an Ethan-caliber body, and the realization made me shiver a bit. Before Ethan, my taste had run fit-normal. My ex Kevin.... my Boardroom crush Pete. Regular NYC guys, my age.

Maybe it was silly to go for perfect, but it was fun to watch as Rick strutted over in just his over-the-calf socks, English-made tan oxfords, a tie tied around his neck and an expensive Swiss watch on his wrist. The only thing keeping him from being porn-star material was a smaller than average dick, which was still pretty damn appealing in its rock-hard spike as he walked over.

"Hey," he greeted, giving me a nod, but his attention more on Mike 2.

"Hey Rick," Mike grinned. They'd clearly met before. And maybe more.

They kissed.

"Nice suit, bro," Rick hissed, now running his hand along Mike's front. It was fun to watch the spark of sexual chemistry between these two late-20s guys, but yeah, I was gonna get left out.

Mark had even started sucking Rick's bone, taking advantage of the smaller size to really go to town on it. Meanwhile, Mike and Rick made out taking some breaks so Mike could watch his Boardroom buddy admire his new suit.

I should have just left them but it was hot to watch. So I stroked and stood near. Mark had gone back to Mike's bigger cock. It was hot to see him kneeling in his socks and sock suspenders, the hairness of his legs a contrast to the sheer sock fabric. Rick arched his back and I could then see that Mike had his hand wedged back into his ass, fingering and playing around with Rick's hole.

"I wanna use that ass, man," Mike grunted.

Rick nodded and like that, Mike was pushing Mark off his dick. The two didn't even acknowledge me and Mark as they made their way over to the spare bed.

"Sorry, Bill, looks like you're stuck with me," Mark said as he stood up. His dick was hard and leaking. Even if I wasn't a huge socks fetishist, I had to admit the sock garters looked great on his beefier build. Kind of that feminine/masculine contrast.

I flashed him a smile. "A-OK with me," I replied politely. "It's been a while since we connected here."

He nodded, stepping up. We didn't kiss. Partly because that wasn't Mark's MO - he was all about cock - but partly because we didn't have that natural chemistry. Still, his hands were on my suit coat.

"You have a really incredible suit," he said. "It really should be getting more attention."

He was right. About the suit, maybe, but in particular about what I was feeling wistful about. Maybe I was becoming one of the respected founding executives. A man with a great suit but not so imminently fuckable, you know?

"Wanna give it some attention?" I smirked.

I let Mark feel me up, and I got off on his near naked body in contrast to my suited one. It was fun, seeing him sensually touch the fabric and massage my body beneath it. But eventually his goal was clearly.

"OK if I suck you?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, that'd be hot."

This was more transactional. I had a big dick and Mark loved to suck. This is what a sex party often was, if you stripped away the suit fetish. Two men just getting their rocks off.

And Mark was a good cocksucker. Not too fast but he knew how to work me up to a good cum before long. I held onto his head, not roughly but as a sign I was about to blast. The man moaned around my cock, telling me to let it rip. I did, blasting several hot rounds down his throat.

He milked me and worked the dribbles slowly before giving my dick a parting kiss. "I love sucking off a man in a suit," he said, taking one last look before getting up. "OK if I go find another?" he asked.

"Have at it," I grinned, taking a seat to have a break. I knew I wouldn't have another in me, but I'd enjoy seeing the guys pair up in suits. Besides, since I was hosting, I couldn't really leave.

It didn't take Mark long to find another dick to suck. Darren had gone, and Marty was getting slowly fucked by newcomer John, in a navy Italian suit. But Kevin was alone, like me watching the action while he stood in an Italian sport coat and tie, naked from the waist down. Mark got right into to place and started sucking while Kevin watched the other guys.

I looked over at the other bed. Mike 2 had clearly gotten off inside Rick and the two were on the bed, making out as a third guy in a full navy suit was now on top of Rick, working his way inside the hunk. I take it was the English guy, the Interviewee.

I watched them fuck. It was an amazing sight. The English lad had his trousers pulled down mid-thigh so I could see some of his dimpled ass flex as he thrust into the hot finance bro beneath him.

Mike 2 lay beside them, his dick now retreated back into his crotch but his eyes still showing excitement as he ran his hands up and down the English guy's coat. I don't know that his suit was overly high-quality but the English tailoring was novel, and the wool fit his form like a glove.

I turned over to see Kevin's eyes on the live sex show. These Boardroom meeting were 50 percent clothing fetish and 50 percent old fashioned sex party. Well, maybe it started out as 80/20, but increasingly it felt there was a moment like this, where some pairing would become the center of attention.

Kevin's brown eyes met mine in recognition. He was my ex from my early 30s, and to this day we had a kind of telepathy. He was thinking the same thing as me, and he was getting turned on. I watched the guy as he humped into Beefy Mark's mouth and started cumming.

It was a great spectacle to watch. I didn't really have the hots for Kevin these days, but his love of suited sex still could get me going.

The only bad thing was I missed the English guy's orgasm. He was sliding off the bed and hiking up his trousers while he fetched a spare cloth to clean off his hard uncut prick still jutting up from a creamy white midsection.

"Heya," he greeted as he walked over to me, tucking in and buckling back up.

"Hi," I said. "You must be Gavin."

"Indeed I am," he said. He reminded me of English Ben who I met at a Boardroom party and whom I reconnected with on my last trip to London. "Great party."

"Thanks," I said. "Great to have newcomers. You visiting New York?"

Maybe because we'd both gotten off, it felt fine to be chatty. The guy picked up a water bottle for a swig. "Yah, here on work, but added a couple days for holiday."

"Glad you could come," I said. "You were fun to watch." OK, maybe I was being flirty, and maybe I had a weakness for the accent.

"Thanks." He grinned and took another sip. I could tell he was flattered but that I wasn't his type. "I'm going to get going. But OK if I reach out again, next time I'm in town?"

"Absolutely," I said. And I watched Gavin leave the suite.

In fact, the guys pretty much were filing out pretty quickly. I didn't expect anyone to stay over, but as Rick and Mike 2 left together, with a clear chemistry between them, I kind of wished I wasn't going to spend the night in this hotel suite alone.

SUSPENDERS NIGHT

"Sorry I didn't make the party, Bill," Ethan said in our Monday workout. I was up to two sessions with him a week. No more comped ones - I paid him the full fee, though I gathered he socked some of that away in a special savings account dedicated to his clothing habit. It was wild to see a guy like him, young and athletic, embrace the suit fetish lifestyle. I sometimes wonder if that was New York, the way it nurtured a subculture like ours. Elsewhere Ethan certainly would have gotten off on suited men but maybe it wouldn't have developed for him like it did.

I set down the dumbbells he had me lifting. I gave him a friendly but direct look. "It's working out best that we keep to separate parties I suppose."

He nodded in agreement, then added. "I know. It's just, I guess that's the first Boardroom meeting you've hosted since I've joined. I feel bad for not going."

I felt a twinge of something. Regret, guilt, sadness, all rolled into one. But I tried to keep a poker face. "Like I say, Ethan, it's OK. For real."

He seemed to be trying on his poker face too. "I didn't have any English or Italian suit to wear anyway."

I grinned and Ethan knew why. That meant he'd have been mostly naked. That was kind of our thing when we were an item, and fortunately he laughed.

"Yeah you wouldn't have minded that," he said. I don't know, somehow the flirting helped break the tensions some. He set me up on the cable machine for the next set and said quietly, "I have been saving up for some proper English shoes."

"Yeah?" I asked. Ethan was a big foot/shoe guy, so it wasn't a surprise.

He nodded. "I know you'd advise against it, Bill, you know focus my money elsewhere, but it's what's gonna make me happy."

"You should go for it, Ethan. Splurge on those bad boys." I did my set, which was harder than I expected. In his own laid back way, Ethan was really pushing me today. I stepped back after and continued my thought. "You know I don't have to approve of your purchases... I mean, I hope you don't think I'm controlling."

He shrugged. "Not controlling. More, I just... well, you were kind of a mentor to me, and you still are... I don't want to think I don't respect your advice."

"My advice is to enjoy the hell out of your new shoes."

Ethan laughed. "I don't have 'em yet, Bill."

"Is this a way of saying your going to raise your rate on me?" I teased.

His eyes twinkled. God he was a cute fucker. "Nah.... but if you ever feel like squeezing an extra session in...."

"Let's do it," I said.

That surprised Ethan. "I was just kidding, Bill. I didn't mean..."

"I know. But it'll be good. Ethan's shoe fund. And an extra installment on my beach bod plan."

"If you're sure," he said.

"As long as you can work around my schedule," I said. Work had been pretty hectic lately.

"I will," he said. His whole posture was more confident now. I think it was the excitement of getting his shoes, but something else.

He put me through the paces for a few more sets and as we were wrapping up, he pulled out his phone to schedule my third session for the week.

"You sure, Bill?" he asked.

"Sure I'm sure."

He smiled and we figured out a good time. Then, as I was about to head to the locker room to change, Ethan asked in a low voice. "You going to suspenders night?"

This was George's turn at hosting and he'd put out a call for suspenders/braces. The great thing about the idea was how open it was to different clothing styles.

"I was thinking about it," I said. "But if you're going..." I hadn't explicitly made an agreement with Ethan to avoid the meetups he went to, but it was clear that I did.

"I want to," he said. "But you don't have to say no on my account. I think we've been pretty mature about stuff."

We had. Ethan especially. I was the one who'd called things off, and he seemed to get back on his game just fine. I gathered that he might not be dating anyone serious but he was getting back into the dating scene. Good for him.

"I guess, so," I said.

***

It had been too long since I fucked Pete. But when he showed up at the Boardroom Meeting and we made eye contact, we just knew the chemistry was still there. We played with some of the other guys - Mike 1, the young doctor, who was in his trad element, and Rob, who was in a really fucking nice suit - subtle pinstripe, bengal stripe shirt, and solid gaberdine tie. Unlike me the guys had showier suspenders - Rob's beneath his suit coat, Mike and Pete showing off their suspenders in shirt sleeves. Pete had white cuffs on an oxford stripe shirt, which was a nice vintage touch. His body was pretty fantastic in it too.

He had some group kissing and stroking and BJ swapping before Pete and I took the arrival of George to pull away from the guys to take to the bed.

Ethan was on the other bed, in just his dress shirt and tie, as Tom Stephenson lie on top of him, fully clothed and kissing and thrusting into my ex. That somehow ignited my jealousy, but I pushed that thought right back down. I was going to be the grown up.

Besides Pete was way hot. He was pulling off his suspenders and undoing his trousers. Turning around he shucked his pants and got into doggy position. I was very grateful at that moment that Pete's husband let him come into the city to play on occasion. And a little mad at myself for the idea I'd love to steal the guy away.

I got in place and started munching Pete's hole. Nice and clean, it seemed to suck my tongue in. It had been too long for him, too, I knew. I took my time, taking a pause now and then to admire his ass and to lube my dick up. But pretty soon, my cock ached to fuck. I crawled up onto Pete's body, feeling the heat between his shirt and mine as I pushed my dick into place.

"Please Bill," he hissed, at a volume only I could hear.

His hole was perfectly tight as I entered him. But the excitement was all of Pete. His perfectly meaty bod, his handsomeness, his clothes. How much he wanted me. Maybe I was going too hard and too fast but Pete bucked against me a couple of times to give me the green light. I took it. My humping got harder and faster as I kissed along his neck, smelling his cologne and feeling his shirt color against my cheek.

I was getting hot, too hot in my suit, but that also fed my lust. I shot, hard.

"Yes," Pete sighed, now pulling at his dick while I did my best to keep pushing in and other. Not as fast or urgent, but the slow stroke was probably better for his pleasure.

I felt the man get his orgasm beneath me, and I gave him another, final kiss of appreciation to the neck.

We uncoupled and enjoyed embracing and making out in our clothing. I was aware other guys were having fun around us, and a part of me wanted to show Ethan I could have some fun too.

Finally, Pete pulled back and gave a wistful smile. "I gotta get going." By now, some were leaving the party, and I'd lost track of time.

"Yeah," I said. I was hard again now, and my cock was sticking out. I wasn't usually good for getting off twice at one of these gatherings, but it had been a few days since I'd cum, and being with Pete had me amped up.

Pete reached down and grabbed my hardon, stroking it and admiring how it jutted out of my suit trousers. "Want me to take care of this before I go?"

I did, but I also wanted some more time to recharge. "Nah," I said. I leaned in and placed my mouth at his ear. "But fucking you was perfect," I whispered. "I missed being in you."

I felt his body shiver, and I felt bad. I was pushing the envelope and maybe enjoying doing that too much.

He pulled away. His own dick was firm and he did the work of tucking it in as he sat up in bed. He gave me a once over as he shook his head. "Great seeing you, Bill," he said.

I tried to apologize non verbally, patting his shirt-clad back. "I'll let you go," I said softly.

"Another kiss?" he asked.

I met him for just that.

When he finally left I was rock hard. George and one of the New Hires, Matt, were making out on the bed, caught up in their own connection. I thought of joining them, but didn't want to impose or be the third wheel.

Just then, I saw Ethan walk out of the bathroom, face flushed. He'd put his suit back on, suspenders and all, and retied his tie. He had a sheepish, shy look on his face, until he saw my boner jutting out and then he broke into a grin.

I couldn't help but laugh in response. We'd been trying to compartmentalize things, but here we were now, face to face, the sexual activity of the evening apparent.

Ethan's brown eyes met mine, searching for permission. I'm not sure if I gave it to him, or he was going to wait for it. He took a couple of steps forward and then crouched in front of me. My dick twitched as he did and Ethan took in the sight with a smile. I thought he was going to suck me right then and there but instead he scooted back and leaned down further. Kissing one shoe, then the other. I'd warn some brogued cordovan Aldens and Ethen sucked in the smell of the leather before licking.

"Fuck," he hissed, as he used his tie to wipe off the spit. I could sense how turned on he was to be able to indulge his shoe fetish. To my knowledge none of the Board members, at least the regulars, were into that. Ethan knew I wouldn't mind him having some shoe play, and would even get off on his horniness.

"Jesus, guys, you're getting kinky," I heard George say.

He and Matt were now lying back in bed, their clothes dishelved and their bodies clearly ih post-coital relaxation.

I saw Ethan flinch and blush. I gave him a soft pat on the shoulder and looked back up at the other guys. "It's something I've wanted to try," I lied.

George nodded. "Well, Matt here's big into wristwatches. Can't keep his eyes off this baby," he said, holding up his arm, sporting an expensive watch.

Matt blushed some, and I felt bad, like this should be the place where guys could just enjoy their kinks. I gave a reassuring smile. "I bet you'd like a wristwatch theme night, huh?" I asked Matt.

"Fuck yeah," he grinned. The guy was younger, maybe a few years older than Ethan, and cute. Professional gay guy who get to let loose some at these events.

My hardon had flagged by that point and Ethan had stood up. The spell was broken. "I'll probably get going," I announced as I tucked in and zipped up. I did my best to make myself presentable. I turned to Ethan. "You staying?"

It was a question laden with a lot of possibilities and I could Ethan trying to read me with his eyes. I reached behind him and tapped his suited ass. A quick gesture, but he knew I was up for fooling around.

Without missing a beat he turned to the other guys. "I think I'll head out too. It was a great Meeting, George," he said. "One of the best."

George grinned. He placed his arm around Matt. George was always after new meat and had a preference for younger guys. I had the feeling the two were going to enjoy the night together.

"Seriously, Matt," I said as I picked up my phone and slid it into my suit pocket. "We'll think about the watch idea. We haven't done that before." The guy gave a smile.

We bid good night, and Ethan and I walked silently to the elevators, smiles on our faces as we fed off our lust.

"What are we doing, Boss?" he asked. I could tell he was afraid to pose the question, but someone had to think with his head and not his dick.

The door opened and we got in. There were other people in, so Ethan and I rode down in baited breath, silent.

We were out on the street before I spoke. "If it's just fun, I'll deal with that," I said. "But I want to be your boyfriend, Ethan. For real."

That caught him off guard. "What about just now? With Pete?" he asked softly. I could tell he was as jealous to see me with Pete as I was with Tom. Maybe more.

"I don't know what to say," I said. "I mean, it was the Boardroom."

He shrugged. "You guys have a thing. Everyone knows it, Bill."

I thought about it. Thought about why I felt a connection to Ethan so soon after having sex with Pete. "It's only because Pete and I never actually dated. But say the word I won't so much as lay a hand on him."

I saw a smile form on Ethan's lips as he looked over at me. "You're serious, aren't you?"

I nodded, feeling vulnerable because I was overcome by how suddenly my revelation had hit me. I knew I'd suppressed a lot of my feelings for Ethan. "I was an asshole before. But I miss you Ethan."

His face got a real emotional seriousness. "Can I kiss you, Boss?"

I nodded. And right there in the middle of the sidewalk we kiss. Softly, just a little tongue.

"Damn," I said.

"Yeah," Ethan sighed. He ran his fingers along my lapel. I knew we'd go home and have some amazing suit sex, and that made the emotional part of this even more powerful. "You know, when you stood up for me earlier... for the shoe thing... that was kind of great."

I winked. "I like how you show me new things, stud." I patted his shoulder. "You wanna head to my place and have some shoe play?"

He shook his head. "How bout my place, Bill? You never come over there."

There was a reason for that. Ethan lived in a tiny walk up apartment. But it was time for me to give as well as take. "All right," I said.

***

Ethan's place was tidy but pretty fucking small. But there was no place I'd rather be at that moment. He lay on the floor on a yoga-workout mat, in his Brooks Brothers charcoal suit and striped shirt, paisley pocket square and wool tie, his hard dick sticking out of his crotch. I slowly, teasingly ran my shoe along his boner as he looked up at me hungrily.

"God, Bill," he hissed.

My own dick was out of my suit pants again, sticking out straight, but I wasn't doing anything with it. I was enjoying giving Ethan his jollies.

"You like that leather," I said. Half question, half comment.

"God yes," he said. "You think I'm messed up?" he half asked in return.

I shook my head. "Stud, if my shoes are what keeps you interested in me, that works for me."

He grunted as he watched me bend down to unlace my Aldens. "It's not like that," he objected.

I grinned and winked as I slid my shoe off. "If it is, that's OK, Ethan," I said. Then I knelt down, still fully in my suit and slid that cordovan Alden oxford over Ethan's erection.

"Shit," he gasped as his dick made contact with the interior leather.

I leaned in and kissed him, briefly. "This comfortable?" I asked as I slid it up and down.

He nodded. This was turning him on, a lot. "I'm gonna cum if you keep doing this," he said in a clipped voice.

"Do it," I instructed him.

Ethan's eyes grew wider as he met mine in silent sexual communication and his face grew redder. He was a cute and very hunky young man, and I was lucky I even had a chance with him. I was lucky that he was crushed out on me. And he only grew more handsome when he had his orgasm.

"UUUNNNMMMHFF!" he growled in release. Then falling back into a relaxed position, he broke into a smile. "Damn, that was incredible," he finally said.

I pulled off my shoe, trying not to overstimulate his prick. Normally, the first thing I'd be doing is cleaning it, but I not held it up and looked inside. Ethan had cum a lot and I could see his pearly seed drip down from the toe to the padded heel area. I shocked Ethan and shocked myself by bringing it closer, up to my face, and sticking my tongue in to taste his fresh seed.

"Fuck, Boss," he gasped. "No way am I going soft now," he said with a laugh.

I handed him my shoe. "Think this puppy will keep you turned on enough to let me fuck you?"

Ethan was younger than me and had more of a sexual stamina. But this was purely Ethan in overheated mode. He'd never had a man indulge his foot fetish like I was doing now. I watched as he excitedly reached down to undo his suspenders. I helped him take off his Allen Edmonds, plainer brown cap toes, then pull off his dark gray trousers. His dick was angry red and overstimulated but still hard.

"On the bed?" I asked. There was something fun and naughty about having sex on his bedroom floor, but I knew a mattress would be more comfortable than that thin mat.

We got up on the bed, and I met him for a kiss, deeper this time. I wasn't going to rush this, but I knew I had to be back inside Ethan, that evening. I'd be fucking on Tom Stephenson's sperm and god knows if anyone else's, but we could deal with that.

As Ethan wrapped his legs around my waist and I ran my cock around his hole, feeling the still slick traces of lube in his crack, I looked into his eyes.

"We'll figure out the Boardroom stuff, if you still wanna go," I said, a quiver in my voice. "But let me know what you need from me, Ethan."

He nodded, excited. "You, too, Bill." I could see in his face and hear in his voice the man's desire to be wanted. I hadn't given Ethan that before.

I pushed into him. His hole was relaxed and wet. And even if I was jealous of Tom Stephenson, I was glad for the extra lubrication. Ethan's hole felt nice and wet and snug against my thrusting prick, and the man was primed to take the urgency of my fuck.

I humped away, and Ethan looked up into my eyes and felt up my suit coat and tie. From the evening, I was sweating into my clothes and it would all need a good dry clean. It would be worth it.

"Faster, Boss," he urged. This wasn't about him, but rather his desire to see me get off.

I nodded to him, wordlessly communicating that I was close.

I had both hands on the bed, but I pulled one up to start feeling up Ethan's tie. He looked really fucking perfect in a repp tie. Clean-cut, masculine, like an athlete at an awards banquet or a small-town businessman.

I choked back my grunts but Ethan knew I was cumming hard. I powered my hips in and locked in place as I seeded him up. His words of encouragement as strong as the hands feeling up my suit.

I finally pulled out and let his legs to the side as I eased down on his suited body. We were maybe messed up that we needed to play dress up to have sex, but we were messed up together. This felt right.

I could even feel the guy's heart beat between our layers of clothing as his strong grip held me close.

"You're staying over the night, Bill," he said.

It was a bossy tone I'd only heard from him in the gym before.

"Yeah," I said. I pulled up and looked at him. His face was flush and his hair was a little mussed. "You ever slept in your suit?"

He seemed amused by the idea. "No. Have you?"

I shook my head no. "Might be fun, though... But maybe we can start with just shirt and tie."

Ethan was still hard, but after getting off a couple of times that evening he didn't seem eager to get off again. I watched him take off his coat and drop the undone suspenders. I slowly removed my suit, suspenders and trousers.

"Is this gonna mess up our ties?" he asked.

"Maybe," I said. "But at the worst we'll each have a play tie to add to the collection."

I let Ethan wash up first. "There's a spare toothbrush in the medicine cabinet," he offered when I stepped in. And once I was done in the bathroom, he had a glass of water to offer me.

"You sleepy?" he asked as we slid under the covers together, in our dress shirts and ties. I could feel his naked legs slip against mine and his genitals press against my crotch. This felt nice.

"Not really," I said. "Wanna stay up and talk?"

So that's what we did. We talked about dating and how it could work this time. What would need to be different, but what we missed about before.

"I don't want that easygoing part to go away, Bill," Ethan said. "Maybe things were too easygoing, but I like how you were my friend first."

"I still am," I assured him. "And you client," I winked. "You do good work."

He laughed. "Thanks. You needed to be whipped into shape," he quipped. It was bossy Ethan, and I knew it was a joke, but I still had to speak to the elephant in the room.

"Listen, I know you could find a guy with a much better body than mine."

He didn't miss a beat. "I want a body that looks great in a suit, Boss."

He didn't give me a chance to reply, he just leaned in for a kiss. I returned it and like that we were making out. It was about 1AM and I knew I didn't want this night to end. I felt Ethan's cock grow firm again against me and I loved the contrast between his hard nakeness and his clothed torso. Our shirts were now damp and our bodies warm.

Unbelievably, my own cock responded by firming up again.

"You wanting to get off?" I asked, running my hands over the bulging biceps in his shirt sleeves.

He thought for a second and shook his head. "Let's save it till morning, Bill."

"Sounds good," I said.

We kissed a little more and then got truly sleepy. As Ethan turned out the light, I realized I hadn't felt this giddy and excited in a long while.

#drakestories

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azulera · 1 year

Note

Rashy noticing that's something has been wrong with you for the last few weeks and you just won't tell him and he's stressing trying to figure it out

azulera

Don’t Leave Me Alone

Pairing: Marcus Rashford x Black Reader

Words: 3.5k

Notes: ngl recent events have made me not even want to post but i already had this done and as i said, i do value that ppl like my writing enough to send requests. so here is this! hope u like it anon

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

They'd picked the summer time to move in, late May to be exact, and Marcus was sure it was the smartest decision he’d ever been a part of. The prem season was ended, Y/N was out for the semester, they both had at least five weeks free to travel and relax, and there’d be no cold for the mover’s fingers to go blue in. The transporting itself had gone smoothly, each of her things finding its place in the huge expanse of his house, and the past month and a half of eating, sleeping and waking next to each other had been as nearest to perfect as Marcus thought life might get. So he couldn’t explain what, in the last seven days, could have possibly gone wrong.

“Is everythin alright, love?” He asked over the dinner table, which was sanded wood and brought over from Y/N’s apartment, much smaller than the one he’d used before.

She looked up from her plate and blinked. “Do you mean about dinner? I think I finally got the potatoes right this time, yeah.”

“No, not the food.” The side of his mouth lifted. “You’ve just seemed a bit down, this week, I don’t know. Just wanted to ask, see if there was anythin buggin you?”

“Oh,” She passed a hand over her hair. “Just tired, I guess. It was a rough semester.”

“Yeah, it was – you smashed it, though. But,” He paused until she looked at him, and was immediately taken by her brown eyes, which, unreadable as they were, he’d always found incredibly beautiful. “If anything’s wrong, you can tell me. I’d want to help.”

“Mhm.” She replied, and flitted her eyes away, pushing up from the table. “Let’s clean up?”

He nodded, though he wasn’t convinced, and stood up to take their few dishes to the kitchen. They rinsed and loaded in a silence not as comfortable as it ought to have been, and soon finished, Y/N pausing in front of the rumbling machine. From behind, Marcus pulled her into an embrace, fitting his hands around her waist and mumbling into her neck.

“Wanna come cuddle wi’me for a bit? We can watch the next Narcos.”

He felt her take a deep breath, and then lightly pat the hand that held her.

“I’ve got a little headache, actually. Think m’gonna lay down for the night.”

Marcus frowned. “You want me to watch the next episode? Without you?”

“Yeah, go ahead – I’ll get caught up when you’re on your trip next week. I’d just really like to lay down.”

Fatigue colored her voice, and Marcus felt a little more sure that she really was just under the weather, and not anything worse.

“D’you want me to bring you tea? Water? Medicine?”

She shook her head “no”, and turned around, another sigh hitting the fabric of his t-shirt.

“S’alright, then. Hope you get feeling better, babe.” He leaned in, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then two to the dark spirals of her hair. “I’ll be up in a bit. I love you.”

A near silent “thank you” left her lips, and she squeezed his hand once. And then Marcus was left in the kitchen alone.

After a mild pre-season session the next day, Marcus skipped showering to go straight to his car. When he’d seen her that morning, Y/N had still seemed poorly – she hadn’t left bed for tea and breakfast with him, and no silly texts or memes had come into his phone, the way they usually did during his long hours of training. Leaving now, he'd felt a strange, strong urge to get to her, like the sooner he did, the sooner things would go back to normal.

When he keyed into the house, however, her usual lounging spot – in the center of the living room sectional – was empty. As were the kitchen, bedroom, gym and laundry room that he walked to after. He found her instead on the back patio, cuddled into herself on the sunbed, with her curls spread wild and loose about her shoulders. A book was opened up and settled on her knees, and a pile of crumpled tissues sat just to her right.

“Hey, was lookin for you.”

The jitters that assailed him finally began to slow as he approached her, but didn’t fade completely.

“What’s all these for? You wasn’t crying, were you?”

“No, no, not really. It’s just this book. It’s pretty sad.” She tried to laugh at herself, but the sound came out wet and dull. “Or maybe I’m just dramatic.”

A range of emotions swept over him as he considered her pink, puffy eyes, the way she still wouldn’t hold his gaze for too long. His anxiety flared again, but he continued on with the plan he’d devised in the car, hopeful that it might still work.

“Well, I’m just about to run a bath, didn’t have time to shower after training. It could cheer you up, maybe. Did you wanna join me?”

It’s something special they do, just for them, a quiet and closeness involved that Marcus enjoyed far more than he’d ever said aloud. He hoped it would be enough to break through the wall he felt sprouting between them.

“But you’re all sweaty.” She said flatly.

He sucked his teeth, and sat alongside her on the thin mattress.

“That never stopped you before? When we were squeezed up in the one at your flat.”

“Right.” Her face fell, suddenly, as if she’d remembered something unpleasant. “But I’ve already showered, actually, a bit ago. Went out for a run.”

“That never stopped you before, either” Marcus wanted to say but didn’t, and focused instead on fixing his face to not reveal his disappointment.

“Okay.” He stalled a moment, weighing his next move. “Babe, are you sure everything is okay with you? M’a bit worried–”

“It’s fine, Marcus. It’s going to be fine, just …” She closed her eyes, and they glistened when they opened, focused seriously on his own. “I’m fine. Just stop pushing it, please.”

She gathered her book and trash and walked back into the house, which hurt him, but her last sentences hurt worse. If he wasn't meant to push, then what could he do? Sitting back and watching her pull further and further away from him was tortuous and seemed the opposite of what a good partner should do. Still, he nodded, even though she had already gone, and let his head fall into his hands.

A few hours later, in the bath, the jacuzzi jets going but alone, nothing was as it should have been. Already he missed the slide of her wet skin against his, how the brown of it went faintly pink the hotter she ran the water, which was scalding enough by Marcus’ standards. Now it felt lukewarm at best, the bubbles even less fluorescent, less bubbly than usual, without her there to scoop handfuls of them to paste on his face and chest, making herself giggle and cleaning their bodies in the process. He missed that, too, he realized, her body – it’s softness and strength, and how easily it yielded and came alive under his hands, but more concerning was her mind, which was somewhere outside its optimal state, and seemingly getting worse by the day.

He leaned his head back against the tub’s edge and sighed. It was a soft sound, quickly lost among the hum of the jets and the noise of his muscles singing and thanking him, but then he heard something else. Crying. Quiet, choked-off sobs from the other side of the en suite door, that he knew Y/N was trying to hide, but didn’t know why. The sound alone carved a hole deeper in his chest.

Before he realized it, he’d risen from the bath, shampoo still in his hair, and pushed open the door to their bedroom.

Squinting through the dark, Marcus could tell she was in the bed, asleep, or at least pretending to be. He debated whether or not to wake her – his every instinct begged him to, but the noise of tears had stopped, and he’d been specifically, harshly instructed not to “push”.

He waited several moments anyway, eyeing her sleeping form, burning up inside, but when she didn’t budge, he stepped back into the bathroom, mindful of the growing puddle he’d created on the carpet.

Under the shower head, he rinsed his hair and dried off, putting on his lotion and moisturizer in record time, all the while his mind racing, trying to settle the unease twisting up his chest and throat. When he got to the bedroom, he set his alarm and settled in under the covers behind her, as close as he dared.

Though her breaths came and went evenly, something in him, maybe something of his own creation, told him she was awake, that she could hear him. He felt free to unburden himself, and say what he wanted her to know.

“M’here for you, Y/N.” He used one arm to hold her against his chest, and the other to fix her hair scarf where it had ridden up in the back. “Hope you know that. Whatever it is, we can … fix it, talk about it, at least, together. Love you ... don’t wanna lose you.”

He knew the words were true, and could feel their sincerity aching somewhere deep in his bones. But he feared he was running out of ways to make sure Y/N believed it, too.

By the following day, Marcus decided “not pushing” was no longer a viable option. Y/N was gone from bed even before him, and he turned to his night-table to find a message saying she’d gone out for an early run again and to get coffee. It wasn’t a strange occurrence on its own, but the way the last few days had gone, weeks really, this latest change to their patterns was enough to set him on a nervous edge. All through the day, his head was gone, drifting and distracted while training, and his thoughts sprinting to the worst - Y/N wanted to move out, she wanted to break up with him – in any moment he had idle.

But when his third check-in text sent from the rain-wet bed of the physio suite went unanswered, as did the two facetime call requests, it became slightly harder for him to breathe. The PT scrunched his face, but Marcus didn’t explain, wasn’t sure he’d be able to speak if he tried, and he’d been forced through two rounds of deep breathing before he’d let him off the table.

As soon as the gaffer released them, Marcus raced home through the rain that had begun to pour, calling one more time to no avail, but trying to stay rational. He imagined her sat in her spot on the big sofa in the sitting room when he arrived, apologetic and with some perfectly logical story of what had kept her from her phone all day, and what had depressed her mood the past few weeks.

He opened the front door, however, to silence, and her car keys still gone. His stomach dropped, and an icy, despairing prickle crawled over his skin. Was he overreacting? Or should he have pushed more?

Somehow he knew the rest of the house and even the back porch would be empty, just as silent, and found himself climbing the stairs anyway. His legs stopped by the room he used as his office, and he threw himself into the desk chair. He felt more calm, serious in there, for some reason, and composed himself enough to check her location, which was inconclusive, and click her contact another time. It went to voicemail once again, and he cursed, pulling at his hair.

After one heavy, frantic beat, he picked up the phone again to dial the only other number that would be useful at a time like this. The call picked up on the second ring.

“Mum?”

Marcus’ car had been in the driveway when you pulled up, but when you stepped into his house – your house, now – there wasn’t any trace of him. Late afternoon training usually left him in the kitchen or theater room, scarfing down whatever meals his nutritionist prepared before conking out in his-your bed for a few hours until dinner.

You checked your phone, which had been dead up until the last five minutes when you’d connected it to the car charger, and realized it was closer to dinner time than you’d thought.

Dropping off your raincoat and bag, you went in search of him. The blaring missed calls and texts deserved a response, as hard as it would be to face him in person. You didn’t want him to worry any more than he already did, even though you felt there was little, if anything, he could do.

“Marcus?” You called up the stairs, but there was only your footsteps, the patter of rain, in answer.

You began climbing anyway, sure the sounds of the house would lead you to him, and eventually heard his voice, muffled through the closed door of his office. You stopped, and leaned against the wall to listen.

“She won’t talk to me, mum, she won’t, I’ve tried everythin. She’s not physically hurt, no, but something is wrong. I know that much. It’s like she don’t even want to be around me.”

There was a pause, and an ache began in your chest. The distress in your partner’s voice was palpable.

“But I’ve gave her space. And I’ve even asked her up front what’s wrong, and still nothin. I'm leavin for my trip in a few days, and I won’t be able to fix anythin from there. Reckon she might even be gone by then.”

Each second you listened, you fell further and further into the mire of guilt, and it seemed impossible to get out. Some external force, whose name or origin you didn’t know, forced your hand onto the knob and pushed into the room.

You met his eyes, cautious, but found nothing but relief, unshed tears in them.

“Y/N. Baby.” His voice cracked around the words, and he flew to your side of the room, crushing you to his body, burying his face in your damp hair.

“Are you hurt? Are you okay? Where were you?”

You tried, but couldn't speak around the lump in your throat. All you wanted was for him to hold you again, and to apologize for everything.

“Y/N. You’ve gotta talk to me, please. M’goin mad here, I’ve been goin mad–”

“I’m okay, Marcus. I’m not hurt.” You squeezed at his hands, trying to loosen their tight grip around your back and also trying to ground him. “Went for my run and coffee like I said, and then around to visit my mates at my old flat. My phone died, and I didn’t realize. I should’ve known you would worry.”

He looked back at you with wide eyes still, nodding slow like it was taking serious effort to comprehend the words leaving your mouth.

“I’m okay, baby. I promise.”

When he finally spoke, his voice was gravelly, but much quieter, and none of the terror gone from it.

“Y/N, look, know you asked me not to push, but I can't just do nothin while–”

“Wait, Marcus – can we sit and do this? Please. And you’ve gotta get out of this jacket, babe, it’s soaked. You’ll catch a cold.”

The familiar sound of your fussing seemed to center him further, and he slid the jacket off, settling stiffly on the futon along the opposite wall. His legs were spread wide, and he raised his hands to his knees, fingers digging into them.

Hesitantly, you followed, standing between his legs, watching his eyes, which you’d missed, and his lips, which you’d possibly missed even more. You paused before lowering yourself onto his knee.

“Is this okay?”

“‘Course” He breathed out, pulling you the rest of the way down and rubbing his hands gently up and down your back. It was the first moment you’d felt at ease in the last two weeks, and you took the time to just hug him, wiping at a drop of water puddled along his hairline. Gradually, everything that had been pent-up seemed much easier to face.

“I’ve been real distant the past weeks, haven’t I.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s cause I’ve been confused.”

“Confused about what?”

The intensity of his eyes suddenly became too much, and you pressed your cheek against his shoulder. You made sure your voice still reached him clear.

“Confused about my feelings. About us, about us living together.”

His stomach had gone cold with dread again, but you took the silence as a license to continue. You knew he would stop you if and when he’d heard enough.

“It’s been great, it really has, Marcus. You’re my favorite person to be around – you know that.” His insides smiled at the mention, since the past week had convinced him of the opposite. Still, his expression remained the same.

“And you seemed so happy, having me here. But sometimes, lately, it got — I don’t know, overwhelming? Like, I had my friends in my last flat with me, and it feels like I spend so much time here alone. When you’re here, I don’t feel like that, but that don't feel fair to you either.”

He bit his lip. “I don’t understand.”

“I know, it’s confusing, but it’s like, I’m used to my roommates, us all together, a lot of noise – even when you’re alone you’re not really alone. So whenever you get here, I want to recreate that, spend every second with you, if I can. Didn’t want you to think I was clinging, though? ‘Cause I know how that feels, too.” You paused to take a breath, and Marcus rubbed your back, silent encouragement to continue.

“Thought you should be able to come home and spend your time on your own, too, if that’s what you wanted. So I was moping, but trying to give you that, for a while. Thought that if I could give you some space until your trip next week, I’d be okay. I could use that week to get myself together, stop being ungrateful. ‘Cause I am so lucky, aren’t I? To be able to live with this person I love so much. But I guess I only made it worse.”

“So it’s findin a balance, then, that was hard. Findin ... where you and I, personal time ends, and where “us” time begins.” Marcus summarized.

There was an unspoken “Why didn’t you just say so?” at the back of his statement that your partner was too kind and too patient to say. But you deserved it, so you said it yourself.

“Exactly. But I should have told you that it was eating me up. Not tried to isolate myself, or shut you out. And I’m sorry, about that. ”

Marcus let the apology ring out, and laced the fingers of one of your hands together, a quiet absolution. You felt lighter, now, after having spoken your piece, but knew that didn’t mean the conservation was over.

“Don’t think I need to say I forgive you, because,” He leaned his chin into his palm thoughtfully, before looking up at you. “Because I really get it, you know. I do. I understand that you need your own space, to feel like your own person still. And also that I’m gone, and it’s just you here, a lot, which is new for you. I get that it’s overwhelming, that findin the balance bit. But– I’ve never done this, moved in with someone before, either, have I? It’s excitin, but it’s a lot of other emotions, too. You can’t assume how m’feeling, or how I want to spend my time, just like I can’t read your mind about what's got you upset, innit?”

He paused.

“And it’s like, we’ve gotta figure it out together, don’t we?”

You nodded.

“So when -if, you’re feelin like that again, you’ll tell me? Even if you think it’ll hurt my feelings, or whatever. And if you need to go spend extra time with your mates to feel alright, we’ll sort it. And I’ll do the same. Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

"You promise?"

You promised, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and chin against his head. With the most difficult part of the conversation over, your senses opened up enough beyond Marcus to notice that the sound of rain outside had ceased. The wet, grassy smell of his training kit finally entered your nose, and your good humor began to stretch its legs.

“So I don’t need to go pack my things?” You mumbled into his shoulder.

“No.” Marcus snorted. “Not unless you changed your mind the last 15 seconds.”

“Nah, I reckon I’ll stay. I'd miss the jacuzzi tub too much.” You sighed. “Saying no to that bath with you was the hardest thing I ever done.”

Marcus chuckled, enough air in his chest to do so now, and kissed you lightly on the lips.

“Fancy one now?” He repeated, and your “please” was fast and enthusiastic. He scooped you in his arms, and you held tight to him, murmuring quiet “I love you”s and knowing as you walked through the house –your house– that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

#marcus rashford x oc #marcus rashford x reader #marcus rashford x you #marcus rashford fanfiction #marcus rashford imagine #footballer x you #footballer x reader #football imagine #football fanfic

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spontaneousmusicalnumber · 7 months

Text

The Wasp Saga, or, How I Wasted Half my Lunch Break

(Note: If you are rude about wasps on this post you will be blocked. We respect them as important ecosystem members here.)

Yesterday it was super warm, like three months out of season warm, and in order to stave off the climate anxiety I decided to walk to the corner grocery store for lunch, eat outside, and get some rare February vitamin D. In a rare W the grocery counter Chinese food was freshly made, way better quality than usual, and ON SALE so I was riding that high. I ate, I enjoyed the weather. As I was starting to consider saving the rest for the next day's lunch a wasp buzzed up to me and landed. on my leg.

Now one thing about me is that I am trying very hard to overcome a crippling phobia of bees and wasps. From when I was a child through my early 20's I was frequently trapped inside or outside buildings because a wasp was hanging out near the door frame and I would refuse to go within 20 feet of it. Please read the following as if it required the courage of a knight and the patience of a saint.

This wasp was likely a queen that had woken up from hibernation a couple months early and was looking for a place to build a new hive. I respect wasps as important members of the ecosystem despite my deep seated fear and did not wish to kill her. She was the least flappable, most chill wasp I have ever encountered. This worked against me.

You see, she was quite happy to be on my leg. Started meandering down my khakis towards my shoe as if she didn't have a care in the world. As if I wasn't shaking my leg, walking around, stomping my foot, jerking back and forth, and jumping up and down to try and dislodge her. Eventually she walked onto my shoe and I did NOT want her do decide the inside of my pants was an attractive option here. So I bent down and blew on her, which finally bothered her enough to get off this ride. She buzzed away and landed.

On the edge of my lunch.

Now if this were any other day, I might have let her have it. Being on the wrong side of an angry wasp is not pleasant. But today the chinese food was good, and I wanted those leftovers as much as she did. So I decided to fight for it.

Let me set the scene: I am sitting on a concrete ledge, about knee-high. My lunch is inside a container, and the container is still nestled in the plastic bag from the grocery store. The container has a lid, which I managed to get over the food before the wasp could climb onto it. The wasp was on the plastic container, somewhat nestled inside the plastic bag.

Now if this wasp was content on my leg, she was downright ecstatic here on my lunch. She has just discovered a heaven of meat and fat and sugar. Her daughters will feast their whole lifetimes. She is not letting go.

I am trying to figure out how to bother this blissed-out wasp enough that she decides to abandon this nirvana, but not enough for her to decide I am a threat that must be eliminated. The next few minutes are spent nudging and prodding and shifting the container. Not a move. I move the bag. She folds up her wings. I blow on her. Frequently, often, from multiple angles. She's not falling for that trick again.

I try to nudge her off with a fork. Twice. She doesn't even move a leg, just sways sideways. I decide to take more drastic measures. I get up on the seat, take off my overshirt, and gently start flailing it at the bag, hoping to brush her off or make her think she's being swatted.

At this point a dog walker comes by and notices me standing up on a concrete wall, gingerly flapping my henley at a Monday orange chicken special. "Wasp stole my lunch," I explain. She sympathizes and moves on. I realize the wasp also stole my dignity a long while ago.

A gust of wind hits and the wasp seeks shelter under the lip of the container. My lunch break is very nearly over. I seriously begin to consider that I may lose. I realize that leaving my lunch here would be littering, and wildly against my morals. I press on.

I pick up the container out of the bag, wasp and all. I swing it left and right. I shake it up and down. She doesn't even care. I seriously wonder if I should just bring her inside and go about my day. Maybe if I put her in the fridge she would get sleepy enough to capture and release. Or maybe I'd be the idiot who let a wasp loose in the building because they brought it inside on purpose. It's a long walk from the door to the fridge.

I get to the door. Now or never. One last idea. I drop it a few inches. This is the move: Precisely enough to make her lose her grip on the container. My last view of her is on her back, wings not even buzzing, legs flailing as she tries to stand up. I snatch what is now mine by right of combat and flee indoors.

It was 76 degrees that day, yesterday afternoon. Tonight it will get down to 12. That's a normal temperature for February. She should not have been awake yet. I hope that despite all the grief and indignity she caused me, that she found somewhere safe and warm to hide, and that she finds somewhere just as good as my container of chinese food to build a nest.

#my posts #stories #bugs #wasps

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adaptacy · 11 months

Text

A Found Flame {Pt.2}

Pairing: Mentor!Gale Dekarios x Apprentice!GN!Reader

(Previous Chapter) – (Next Chapter) ➔ (AO3)

A/N: Gonna cross-post this to AO3 eventually once I have more of an idea of how the plots gonna go cause you all have convinced me to full-send it and make it a longform thing. just adding it to the list of wip.... a sincere apology to my tcm fics.... anyways! i love my little depressed magic-cancer nerd and im glad im not the only one. here's more of him :) [it wont all be angst, but i gotta set the scene and the stakes, yanno...?] ALSO 'a found flame' is just the working title, idk what the official one is gonna be but i'll let yall know when i figure that out

Word Count: 3.1k

Stepping outside grants you an opportunity to taste the last flavors of the fading winter, only feeling the quick spikes of a chill every few minutes, and even then, it’s only thanks to the setting sun. You still wear a purple velvet shawl, as per the request – well, demand – of Gale. He insisted many moons ago that you shouldn’t ever risk getting sick when you can take measures to avoid such a fate, and you’d decided it was much simpler to go along with it than to argue your safety. That plan was cemented when he purchased you a finely tailored purple shawl, the edges of the hood and cloak lined with lynx fur, dyed a dark pink to complement the thick purple velvet that made up the majority of the shawl. A gift that nothing short of surprised you, even had you fooled into believing you’d been dreaming when he presented it to you. Why he was so particularly fearful of the cold, you weren’t sure, but you deeply appreciated the gift, and even if you did enjoy winter’s nip, the shawl was both gorgeous and comfortable, and you’d be insane to leave it behind.

Gale was also particularly sensitive to cold weather, from what you could tell, which likely had a role in his passionate bias against the chilliness of post-snow air. Frankly, you were fine with the occasional runny nose in exchange for a chance to wander down a snow-dusted forest trail, and you didn’t mind a shiver here and there while you caught free-falling flakes that Waterdeep was ever so rarely granted.

The garden, however, was much like Gale – hardly a fan of the cold. Gale did not have a green thumb, but he still shared similarities with the plants you tended. Those plants that, currently, were dead and buried. While you’d managed to convince him to try his hand at herbalism and gardening, he had more of Bhaal’s touch with the sprouts than the ‘magic’ touch he so often joked about. It was amusing, and a little pitiful; the exasperated sigh and the troubled frown that followed your breaking of the news, that his poorly packed and overwatered plants had passed. He was dramatic, and managed to find the humor in the situation, though vowed to let you handle anything to do with seedlings and crops from that point onwards.

It was unfortunate, as you appreciated his entertaining company (even if it came mostly in the form of griping, displeased that he had to get so up close and personal with dirt and worms) around the garden beds, but it allowed for moments like these. Truth be told, you had no intention of gardening. You would have to wait another twelve dawns until any useful plants would be back in season, so planting anything this late in winter would be a waste of both time and resources.

Instead, you aimed to explore a small forest trail that you’d just recently discovered, not far from the tower you stayed at. To say you lived there felt like too strong, too certain, of a term. It was the only place you slept, and nearly all of your time was spent there, but you knew it wasn’t home. It was Gale’s home, and you were a mere guest. A sixteen-month-and-counting guest, but a guest nonetheless. You worked, your apprenticeship laboursome and sometimes really quite demanding, and Gale repaid your loyalty and assistance by giving you a place to stay. You’d just never planned to stay so long.

In all honesty, you expected it to be a very temporary arrangement. You suspected Gale felt the same way. But circumstances changed, and so did minds, and you didn’t see yourself leaving anytime soon. It helped that you got along quite well with your boss-slash-roommate, despite the differences in personality and age. You were comfortable with the way things were, and Gale had just recently begun to sprout ideas of passing his own spell-casting knowledge on to you, with today’s lesson being a prime example. When you weren’t helping out around his home, or running errands for him, or tending to the garden, you were most usually subjected to reading long passages from books that were once very far above your understanding.

If Gale was a master of anything, it was surely knowledge. You’d found it odd, at first. Spending all of his days wasting away in his tower, just reading, rotting into a hermit, you’d assumed. But you’d soon gained an appreciation for his boundless mind, and felt almost honored that he’d decided you worthy of learning from him. Being a wizard’s apprentice had never been in the plans, not even as a fleeting hypothetical, and yet you found yourself in that exact scenario – and enjoying it nonetheless!

Glancing down at the small woven basket hanging from your arm, you frowned, lost in thought. Gale taught you a lot, and he still had plenty left to teach, but by no means did that translate over to you really knowing the man you shared a house with. He taught from books and scrolls, and on a few spare good days from his own vast experience. Even with all of the lectures he gave, you found that any details about him that weren’t related to magic, or your lessons, were all quite lacking. What you did know about his personal life was almost purely from observation.

Well, a few times when Tara had made a passing comment about some personal detail and surely was later scolded for it, but those were few and far between. If anyone were to blame for your curiosity, it was most certainly the man himself. He loved preaching the importance of curiosity, exploration (despite rarely leaving the confines of his study), and seeking knowledge, and you’d be a rather poor apprentice to disregard such lessons. Or, arguably worse, cherry pick when you applied those lessons to real world scenarios.

Most recently, your nose for curiosity had picked up on the notably pungent scent of Gale’s behavior. It was unusual, slightly withdrawn, perhaps a little panicked if you truly squinted between the lines. Gale was predictable, for the most part – it was one of his traits that had earned him your trust in the first place. Though as of recent, he’d been rather strange. And not the typical Gale kind of strange – an unsettling, uncharacteristic strange. One that you knew better than to ask questions about, but one that certainly sprouted confusion.

You neared the edge of the forest, giving the pale trees a smile as if to promise your peace. Pausing just before the tree line, you peered into the woods, interested as to what you might discover. You proceeded, following a very faint trail into the woods. You had a pretty solid confidence in your navigational skills – otherwise you most definitely would’ve gotten completely trapped in the maze of a city that was Waterdeep every time you ran any sort of errand – so you weren’t particularly concerned with getting lost.

Allowing your thoughts to return to Gale, you reminded yourself that you weren’t really lying to him. You definitely weren’t going to the garden, but you still planned on harvesting plants. You’d known him for almost a year and a half, and you knew the gist of what he’d been through, what with his mentorship from Mystra herself – which was so cool, and he was way too casual about it – and his strange appetite thanks to the Netherese orb that had become one with him. All that aside, however, you didn’t know many details about his past. For as chatty and sarcastic as he was, you couldn’t shake the feeling he had a good number of secrets he withheld from you, and big ones at that.

Of course, Gale was entitled to his privacy, and you didn’t want to intrude or push his boundaries, but it was impossible to ignore the signs of unease. His constantly drifted mind, his long breaks between lessons, his increasingly frequent requests. Or the way that he’d direct you to read a passage from some folktale or other, only to remain silent for several moments after you finish, gazing longingly past his balcony. He’d been consuming more artifacts than usual recently, and gained a sudden eagerness to push real world practice into your schedules. Not that you minded the inflow of new information, but it didn’t seem to come from a place of excitement. Instead, you figured anxiety; judging based off of the common rapid bouncing of his leg, the messy-and-messier spread of his books and trinkets – especially when compared to how well-kept the place always was whenever you’d started working under him – or his new tendency to forget what he had and hadn’t asked of you, or which lessons he’d already covered, or hell, where he had last placed his staff.

Well, what better way to get someone to open up and relax than with a hand-picked bouquet and some herbal tea?

Even if he didn’t spill his guts to you, he certainly needed a pick-me-up. Sure, you already did a lot for him, but he did a lot for you, too. Maybe even more than he realized. He deserved a treat.

– – –

“Though it may be bold of me to say, I estimate they’ll be a fine caster someday.”

“Bold indeed, Mr. Dekarios. Awfully bold. They quite nearly began trembling at the idea of a mere fire bolt!” The small beast chirped back, seated firmly atop his desk, pawing at a small fuzzy ball that swung from a thin string, easily entertained by the simple contraption.

“Even I stumbled; all beginners do. Time is all they need. ‘Time heals all wounds’, is that not how the scriptures read?” He asked, sticking his tongue out and running the tip of a long harpy feather over it.

As he dipped that same tip in a vial half-filled with a thick, clear liquid, Tara quickly outstretched a wing, the end of it not-so-accidentally hitting her companion in the face. The startle nearly caused him to knock over the bottle of magic ink, his torso leaning forward as he just barely managed to steady it with both hands, and he glared at his familiar out of the corner of his eye. She merely stretched out her other wing, feigning obliviousness before eventually looking back at him. “You are still the same fool who summoned me all those years ago. You are a prodigy, Mr. Dekarios! You were half their age then; to compare your ‘stumbles’ to the incompetence of a commoner such as them is exhaustively inconceivable.”

“Tara, I implore you to exercise patience. They are a fine apprentice, and they certainly have the potential for brilliance. Am I not a competent mentor?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, intending the question to be at least somewhat thought-provoking, but the only reaction he received was Tara turning her head away and murmuring something too quiet for Gale to hear. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, he knew her well enough to predict it was something snarky, and he didn’t bother investigating. He dipped the large quill again, unable to recall if he’d already wet the tool, and the liquid dripped off of the tip, shimmering in the glint of the fading sun as it rejoined the rest contained in the bottle. “Why is it that you repudiate all of their attempts to bond with you? Surely you don’t think them ill-mannered?”

“‘Ill-mannered’, he says,” she mocks, her tail flicking in irritation. “It is not their civilities that I have quarrels with. It is the expectations I deplore.”

“Expectations?” Gale repeats, his palm flattening against his desk, pressing out the sides of a contorted scroll, the tip of the feather hovering over the yellowed paper.

After solving her own deliberation, the tressym turns around, her wings folding against her sides, her tail curling around her paws. “Have you no fear that your confidence is misplaced? Mr. Dekarios, do you not worry that they may fall short in your plans for them? That they are not up to the task you have decided to burden them with?”

Gale’s irritated gaze softens, his hand relaxing, coming to join his other hand in resting on the desk. The clear liquid on the quill drips onto the parchment, becoming a black dot in an instant, the weave-infused iridescent ink soaking seamlessly into the paper. “I fear nobody could ever truly be capable. But my options are limited, and my few select choices are each disheartening in their own cruel ways.”

“Evidently, you have already made up your mind. Why is it that you allow them to remain oblivious? You know better than anyone how dire the circumstances are.” Tara’s paws slide forward, her belly laying flat on the desk, and she plants her head atop of her mitts.

Gale moves his hand, letting the paper curl up without the weight, to gently scratch Tara’s head, her pitying purr drawing a sigh from his own chest. “I am but a ticking time bomb. Hardly much of a man these days,” he chuckles dryly, looking around the dust-riddled mess that he still called a study. It would be nothing short of anarchy if it weren’t for his apprentice, and he’s seen it in far worse shape, but it doesn’t quite shake the quiet guilt that rocks in his stomach at just how far he’s fallen. Gale is usually quick to excuse his carelessness as an incurable consequence of his age, but he’s well-aware that his energy is not merely being lost alongside his youth.

The artifacts he consumes have only ever satiated a part of the orb’s appetite. Never quite satisfied – a commonly reoccurring trait of those Gale finds himself engaging with – the sortilege feeds off of him as well. The incantations he recites and the thaumaturgy he practices only grows stronger – more powerful than Gale could have ever predicted or wished for – while his body withers away as though his very anatomy is actively being shredded, and relentlessly so, to make room for spells that he now dreads casting.

It doesn’t help that his learned reliance was only ripped away from him when he truly needed assistance. When the man who once considered himself the smartest in all of Faerun was clueless about his own condition, the only person who could possibly have the answers disappeared.

Now, Gale was left to clean up the pieces. He understands this is his own doing – that he was, and still is, a fool. Once blinded by greed, a greed that led him to being blinded by love, a love that led him to being blinded by desperation, a desperation that led to him being trapped by fear. A fear that now has settled, more or less. Present as ever, but no longer unfamiliar, no longer a new addition to Gale’s emotions.

His hand returns to the paper, and Tara steadies her sights on the bottom of the quill, watching as it twirls, imprinting promises and bittersweet apologies onto the scroll. Words he couldn’t possibly utter aloud, but words that couldn’t be more genuine. The recipient deserves more than a written explanation and cursive laments, and he’s aware of the injustice he’s manufacturing, but he is a terribly faded man who is cursed by a deficiency in time and yet finds himself with so much left to do. He decides it is better a raven on her doorstep than his ghost, lacking any explanation.

Each day, he wakes to find his chest a little warmer, his hands a little shakier, his hair a little thinner. And each day feels like his last. He is entirely helpless to the foe that resides inside of him, of all places. Incapable of defending against something that has already breached his castle walls, and even more useless as it has latched under his skin, reducing him to nothing more than a habitat. He hosts an aberration that has grown far, far too large for its enclosure, and who threatens to rupture its cage with every breath that he dares to draw.

He’s held out for long enough. He’s lived longer than he ever imagined possible, but he knows his limits. The truth stings in places untouched by the Netherese’s reaches; his forced composure starts an ache in his face, but he knows better. With a sharp inhale, Gale rolls up the paper, setting down the large brown feather as he retrieves a thin, fraying string, tightly wrapping the letter up. He even finishes it off with a neat bow, a force of habit, and he sets it aside, leaning back in his chair.

The moon is just barely visible now, approaching the stars and creeping over the mild coverage of the stone railings on his balcony, and the wizard watches the white giant rise. Some unburied, deep sense of longing reflects in his eyes, where the moon also resides, though she is much smaller and much dimmer. There’s movement on the desk, but Gale’s eyes aren’t yet drawn away from the beauty of the night. Then there’s a weight in his lap, and a purring against his stomach, and he lowers his hand to rest on Tara’s back, gently stroking, enjoying the silent tranquility.

‘Mystra’s moon’ he used to call it. He’d tell her he could see her in the shadowed curves, but he isn’t sure if he ever really did. Maybe in a dream, long lost to him now. The moon that watched over him tonight was certainly not Mystra’s. It was bright, encasing the room in a beautiful blue, and the gaze it returned was a soft one. Free of judgment, free of stress, free of difficulty.

“I reckon I’ll be up there soon,” he exhales, feeling his familiar curl up in his lap. “Ruling my own section of sky. Perhaps I’ll even have purpose. I can’t help but wonder what it’s like.”

“Peaceful, I suspect. An eternity of peace, at that. What a prospect.”

“You’ll join me some day?”

The feline purrs out a quiet chuckle, her tail curling around her body so the tip rests on her nose, bundled perfectly atop his thighs. “Of course. I can only go so long without a self-warming bed.”

Gale smiles, his hand falling still on her back, though his thumb continues to run up and down her fur. “Give them a chance, will you? They can’t do it without guidance.”

“I’ll take care of them,” Tara reassures, her tone much softer now than when she spoke of his apprentice earlier. “Do wait for me up there. I’ll be by your side before long, Mr. Dekarios.”

“I set out tomorrow night. I’ll inform them of what they need to know.”

#baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale bg3 #gale dekarios x reader #gale bg3 x reader #gale dekarios angst #gale bg3 angst #gale dekarios x reader angst #tara the tressym

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the-spaced-out-ace · 2 months

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@lautski-week day 6! (Storm)

Pete had had this all planned out. First day of summer vacation, what better way than to eat some ice cream on the docks, then he and Steph could take a walk around downtown Hatchetfield, and then later he and Steph were going to go back to hers so they could get out one of the boats technically meant for the Honey Festival so they could enjoy the evening out on the water.

Unfortunately, the forecast disrupted that halfway through their stroll. Which he really should have seen coming. It was the Midwest in late May, the fact he hadn’t considered the possibility a bit harder was outright embarrassing. The thunderstorm warning popping up on Steph’s phone while they were still on the sidewalk was pretty much the nail in the coffin.

“I guess that cancels out the boat, huh?” Steph said.

“I’m sorry—”

“Hey, it’s not your fault.”

“I should have planned better,” Pete retorted.

Practically on cue, the thunder sounded out and the rain came pouring down just a few seconds later. Steph grabbed his hand and they ran to the nearest building with an actual rain cover at the door.

“How long do you think this is gonna go on?” she asked.

Pete shrugged as he opened his phone’s weather app. “Right now it says we’re under storm watch for the next two hours.”

“Yep. There’s storm season,” Steph sighed.

“My place is closer than yours,” Pete said. “D’you think if we rush, we can make it there mostly dry?”

Steph laughed. “Not really, it’s coming down hard.”

“…it is. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” she assured him. “The ice cream and first part of the walk was still fun.”

“We aren’t going to be able to finish it—”

“—why not?” Steph said. “You know what sounds really nice right now? Watching the storm while drinking hot chocolate at my boyfriend’s place, while he explains some sciencey shit to me. How about that?”

Pete didn’t need to be asked twice. She definitely had that figured out better than him. “It sounds nice.” He adjusted the hood on his jacket while she put her beanie on. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Steph smiled. “Just be careful not to exhaust yourself, right?”

Pete laughed. “I’ll try. And even then, that’s what the hot chocolate will be for.”

#team starkid #starkid #hatchetfield #hatchetverse #peter spankoffski #pete spankoffski #steph lauter #stephanie lauter #lautski #Lautski week #em writes fics

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helloescapist · 1 year

Text

Comforting You Headcanons | Giyuu Tomioka

Word Count: 1166

Setting: Giyuu Tomioka x gn!reader [established relationship], SFW, general comfort headcannons

Content Warnings: none 🌊

This is subject to updates as the mood hits me.

[image is not my own, it's from the anime Fruits Baskets/Furuba!]

Giyuu wants to comfort his partner. He would want to sooth any aches, and heart aches you may have. Whether it’s difficulties at work, physical pain, emotional, or mental, he really does care about you. Being comforted by Giyuu will be a struggle—he WANTS to take care of you.

He does, but in truth, it may take some time for him to realize that something is wrong. If you were to come in like a storm, it would probably panic him, and he’d likely think it was him who had upset you. In which case, he’ll spend hours trying to figure out what it was, and how he can mend it. Did he forget something important? Did you ask him to take care of something and it slipped his mind? The trash? Did he say something thoughtlessly? He will spiral into an anxiety driven state, and do whatever he crosses his mind. Included a sincere apology, head bowed and all.

If you’re the type to silently hurt, well, it will take him time to figure out that’s something wrong. It will be the small things that add up. Skipping breakfast, avoiding eye contact, going to bed early, the tone of your voice, easily distracted, etc, it will be a BUNCH of small things piling up before it clicks in his head that something is bothering you. If it were only one or two discrepancies in your normal day, he’s just going to assume that you’re busy, or tired. However, if he begins to notice multiple differences, he’s going to begin to fret. Does he say something? Rub your back?

Giyuu’s comfort would be soft, and indirect. Like the sunshine on a spring morning, and as gentle as the April weather. Desperate to break the chill of winter, but unsure how to do so. Like the beginning of spring, the small compilation of acts that verify its arrival. That’s how the Water Hashira would express his love, and how he would comfort you as well.

The first round of attempts will be a lot like the beginning stages of his love (maybe even the later aspects as well, he’s reliable). Small acts of affection. Nothing lavish (he’s not Tengen!). In fact, it’s probably things that you’re at risk of overlooking, especially if you’re upset, but still, he’ll do them without a complaint.

It would be making you tea/coffee first thing in the morning when sleep has escaped you, and you fretted over things that he’s not sure if he should ask about, or if you’re not ready to discuss. The tossing and turning of your sleep is sure to have him rise a little bit earlier to ensure that a cup will be waiting for you.

It would be saving the last piece of castella cake, just for you on a bad day. Whether it’s from a coworker, a bad memory, or just an off day. The cake will be there waiting for you. An added strawberry, or fruit you like if they’re in season.

Comfort = care in Tomioka’s world.

Unspoken, indirect, but always present. Pleasant and cool to the touch like the cool side of a pillow the middle of a summer night. Subtle, but always elicits the exhale of relief and comfort.

Giyuu’s comfort would be hesitation brought on by devotion. Far too bashful to initiate physical contact. He really, REALLY doesn't want to mess this up. Sympathetic glances, unsure of how to make the first move. Such as a hug—he’s going to do it. J-just give him a moment. Like this? He may need reassurance that it’s what you’re needing, and as he settles into being more familiar and comfortable with your needs, he will happily and dutifully rise to meet them. Without a second thought, it would eventually become second nature to him. Until then, physical contact would be an awkwardly placed head pat, but he tried. In fact, a big portion of his comforting you, will be trial and error. He means well.

If the situation was work related, Giyu would likely be at a loss. He still wants to help, he does. In a modern setting, he would respect the more traditional aspect of business (he knows that he cannot show up to your place of work and throw a tantrum), and in the Demon Slayer Corps, he knows that everyone falls into a hierarchy, but rest assured he is watching. Whether it’s meeting you at the end of a work day to walk you home, or in such cases where a coworker is pushing boundaries (*ahem* Masao), Giyuu will ensure to safeguard your boundaries.

Don’t get me wrong, I think Giyuu would be a wonderful source of emotional support. As the years go by, the relationship grows, and maturity hits him, I believe that Giyuu would listen to you whether you needed to yell, vent, confess, or even sob into his kimono, but it will take time. He has the makings now, he does, but at the same time, Giyuu lives in his head, and it may be difficult for him to gather the courage to initiate this. If you take the first step, he will comply without a second thought. Collapse into his chest, sobbing, and he will be startled and a little stiff, but sure enough, he will hold you in his arms. Collapse you into an embrace, rub your back (all while wondering if he’s doing this right).

Until then. Be patient.

He’s worried that he’ll do something wrong, and become burdensome. So, he’ll just settle for taking something off of your plate to ensure that you have just one less thing to worry about.

If the Water Hashira was under the impression that the housework had been the source of your frustration (that one task you just hate like the dishes, or perhaps it’s just too much, you’re overwhelmed), he would take it over without a second thought. Without saying anything.

Understand, Giyuu wants to help, he really does. To him, you are everything, and he wants to do right by you. Really, the best course of action (for your relationship in general) would to be honest and TELL him what you want/need. It’s not a burden really, don’t worry it’s not demanding. No, in fact, he would feel so relieved. He wants to do right by you. But, if you have not quite met that stage of your relationship where you have laid everything out in black and white (make a note to do so soon), and know that while he may not have the best of how to do so, he’s doing his best.

So, don’t worry. Your plants have been watered, and your pets have been cared for (he has the scratches/nibbles to show for it). He’ll pick up groceries, fill the fridge. Ensure that snacks are ready for when you’ve managed an appetite. Bills will be paid, and the house will be maintained.

Don’t worry.

Take your time.

He’s here for you.

#tomioka giyu x reader #giyuu x reader #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer #kny x reader #giyuu tomioka headcanon

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ophernelia · 5 months

Note

can you give any tips for writing scripts? do you do it before or after you film the scenes? i’m having trouble figuring out dialogue and and how to space things out..

Ofc! This might be long though so sorry in advance!

I always write my scripts before I film a scene. If the script isn’t done, then I can’t film. It’s where I map out everything. Sometimes I’ll deviate from the script, because what’s in my head when I write isn’t always easily replicable in game. I still use it as a guideline for filming though. Here’s a rough sketch of what a detailed script looks like for me:

As far as pacing, I usually try to fantasize about how the scenes would go in my head. I try to be mindful of how long it takes everyone to read too. I read pretty fast, but I know the scenes and I know the script so it’s not the same for me as it is for my audience. I like to let the dialogue hang for a bit so people have time to read what’s written, but to also observe the scene visually.

Also, I use the script to show pacing too. Since I have a larger cast it’s a bit easier to do now, but I don’t like for a character to appear in two consecutive scenes. Especially if they’re in different places and a portion of the scene didn’t include them traveling. So, if Lou appears in scene 1 then he probably won’t appear again until scene 3 or later. In my head I see it as giving the character enough time to move from place to place.

When it comes to story pacing, I don’t want too much to happen too soon. It depends on how long your story is, of course, but I try to have a slow lead up to major things. For season 2, it took all season for Lou to meet his dad. Along the way I built it up by sprinkling in a few scenes here and there. Adding in a few crumbs to conversations. With other things you don’t wanna draw it out too long. Like Kaila, Rory, and Sav’s love triangle. Kaila and Rory were meant to get together quickly to show how much pull Rory has. It also shows how much Savannah was unwilling to fight for her because she knew Kaila wasn’t her person. A lot of this stuff is just personal preference though and depends on what fits your characters.

The best thing I can recommend to do is to watch your favorite shows. See how they block out scenes. See how long each scene lasts. See how the characters move through a scene. Think about the whole season and see when major turning points occurred. Take a little inspiration from that and then tailor it to fit your story. I try not to emulate shows too much because I like for Lykaia to stand on its own (and I have certain views about copying v. inspiration), but it is very helpful to at least observe how other shows are filmed. I try to think if my show was on like Netflix or Hulu- how would it look? How would it flow? I did that a lot more this season though and not the first two. Which is why I’m really not fond of season 1 of Lykaia. At least the first half. Twilight is one of those movies that has such a distinct look that whenever the style is emulated it looks like a copy. Which was completely unnecessary, because that sickly green aesthetic isn’t the only way to show solemn and moody weather. If I wanted that vibe, I needed to tailor it to fit Lykaia. I do that now by using a lot of rain, cooler tones, and a dry color palette. So, it’s stuff like that. It’s just been a learning process for me.

#text post #asks #filmmaking help #resources

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gyunglitter · 1 year

Text

➷ 03 ➷

-“oh, the way he makes me feel that love isn’t real -– cupid is so dumb”

unlike you, your brother’s best friend just doesn’t know when to quit

word count: 4,034

warnings: cursing, mentions of running, soobin and reader bickering, a sweaty beomgyu in a tank top, CRINGE lmaooo

tags: brother’s-best-friend!beomgyu x reader, ??? to ???, angst, fluff(??), beomgyu is the cool boy-next-door, reader is an independent girlboss (or trying to be, at least), beomgyu’s gonna be GROVELING, simp!gyu, pathetic pining from both sides lol, maybe some cringe from reader (she was a teenage girl in love, have some empathy plz😭)

notes: this chapter literally didn’t exist lol, but as i was writing chapter 4, i realized it didn't flow well and spawned this. while writing it, i HATED it, but then threw in some crack and suddenly it’s my favorite thing lol. hope y’all get a laugh out of it—if not, i’m officially so unfunny :)

–> masterlist <–

One of the habits you had picked up while away: working out early in the mornings. Whether it was going for a run, doing yoga, or some pilates you would wake up early and start your day with a good bit of sweat before devouring a smoothie and protein bowl.

Of course, you couldn’t quite replicate your routine with how your parents’ blender was broken and the protein in your house was a bit more limited than you had back at your place, but you could make do. Then there was your childhood neighborhood that didn’t have the same layout as your apartment’s neighborhood did; there were many more hills and way less sidewalks. But you figured you had walked these streets for eighteen years with only the occasional complaint, so it shouldn’t be that hard. You could make do.

Or at least you thought you could.

Currently, you were gasping for breath as you finished trekking up the last hill to your house. You’d forgotten just how much worse the monsoon season felt at home than at school. Thankfully, you’d dressed correctly for your morning run: your running shorts, a sports bra, and breezy tank top to help your dying body breathe easier. You just wish your terrain was more forgiving.

You decided to walk the rest of the street back to your house, feeling utterly humbled (and old) as the early morning sun beat down on your back. Sweat glided down your cheeks, making you take the hem of your tank top to wipe it off, before ultimately taking it off and using it as a towel instead. You swung the top across your shoulders and sighed at the discomfort, vowing to stick to your indoor pilates workout routine until the weather mellowed out.

You spent the rest of your walk internally whining about everything you’d done wrong since waking up, going over all of your worst regrets. But it wasn’t until you got to your front lawn, that you actually faced your biggest one. Which, of course, came in the form of Choi Beomgyu.

A gorgeous, sweaty, messy, out of breath Choi Beomgyu.

Feeling your cheeks heat up beyond what would be considered healthy, you gawked at the boy–no, man–who was currently putting together some machine in his own front lawn–the front lawn that your birdbrain had completely forgotten was right next door to your own. Beomgyu had also been dressed for the weather, wearing a loose, white tank top and black shorts with wire headphones as he worked. He looked like he might’ve been up for as long as you had, with sweat running down his forehead and arms, leading down to his dirty hands that you could only assume caused the multiple oil stains smeared on the front of his top. His hair was a delightful mess, but of course on Choi Beomgyu it made him look like a greek god. His face was a bit flushed from working, but you knew it was no match for the red on your face at the moment.

Lucky for you, he was completely focused on whatever the hell he was building.

Feeling hopeful, you discreetly inched towards your porch steps to avoid garnering his attention. You deemed your confrontation with him the night before to be good enough interaction for the next year, and you really did not want a repeat of it now, when you’re half naked and sweaty.

But as life would have it, you still have many regrets to live through today.

“Y/n?” he called.

You nearly shrieked as your body went on autopilot and jumped.

…Into the nearest bush.

“Y/n?!” he yelped, sounding a bit more concerned this time around.

WHY THE FUCK DID I DO THAAAT?

You hit your forehead with your fist as you berated yourself now physically and mentally while you basically hid behind the shrub by your porch. It’s not like you could escape the interaction, the only way to get out would be the way you came, which would only make you look so much weirder since he literally watched you jump, anyway! Now you were naked, sweaty, and had sticks in your hair. You really had to work on your fight or flight response because what the hell.

So much for acting like you moved on–what happened to being unbothered?!

You groaned and took your hair out of its ponytail to at least have something covering your shoulders a bit more. You used your tank top to wipe off additional sweat and dirt before trying to calm down and gather yourself.

“Y/n, are you okay?!” Beomgyu yelled, making you sigh heavily before popping out of your hiding spot.

“What–Beomgyu? Wow, I totally didn’t even see you there,” you coughed, pulling a random stick out of your hair.

Kill me.

You tried to not make eye contact with the boy, but you saw he was gaping at you and your disheveled state.

“W-what hap– a-are you okay?”

“Never better,” you replied. “I just thought there was a squirrel in the bush and-well, uh, you know...”

“I don’t think I do,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows.

You didn’t either. But you weren’t going to say that.

Instead, you waved his words off and let the space between you fill with silence. Beomgyu took both of his earbuds out and scratched the back of his neck while he tried to string together words. But it seemed neither of you were going to come up with much of anything as he continued to stare at you while you stared at the floor.

“Well,” you cleared your throat, wanting nothing more than to escape whatever the hell this was supposed to be. “See ya.”

You turned to run up your porch and into your house to curl up into a ball, when Beomgyu interrupted you once again.

“Wait, hold on!” he called, making you want to smash your head into the wall.

“We really have to stop doing this,” you groaned.

He let out a chuckle while you turned back towards him. “I know, my bad.”

You folded your arms as he nervously fiddled with the hem of tank top once again. While you tried to keep your self restraint in check, you allowed yourself one more second of drinking in the veins that popped from his forearms, before shaking yourself. “What do you want, Beomgyu?”

He motioned toward the half-finished machine sitting in front of him. “My dad just got this new grill for this weekend, and I’ve been trying to put it together all morning, but I need some help carrying the tank and finishing it up,” he explained.

You grimaced, “I don’t think I can help you out with that, to be honest.” Nor do I want to.

But luckily, he shook his hands frantically, “No, no! I just meant–I mean, I was going to come to your house to ask Soobin for some help, anyway! I just figured it would be kind of weird for me to knock on your door after you just left, you know, so…”

He let the words die awkwardly after rambling for a bit, but he looked to you with red ears and a hopeful look on his face that you got the gist of what he was saying without thinking he was weird or weak, or whatever was making him so anxious.

Not that you felt you were in a place to judge, after he just watched you jump into a bush.

Sighing a little bit, you hesitantly nodded at him and gestured to your house. “Alright, well come in then. I’m sure oppa’s not doing anything important right now, anyway.”

Beomgyu’s eyes slightly widened at the offer, before nodding enthusiastically.

“Oh, perfect! G-great! Thanks, Y/n,” he rambled, which you ignored as he started speed walking over from his spot to follow you into your house.

You opened your door that was almost always unlocked and toed off your shoes easily and slipped into a pair of slippers while Beomgyu tried his best to not touch anything with his grease-stained fingers. Noticing his predicament, you bit the inside of your cheek in slight annoyance as you slid another pair of slippers next to his feet.

“Thank you,” he muttered, slightly embarrassed.

“Just go wash your hands in the bathroom,” you dismissed, immediately walking away from him to go further into the house. “Man, I’m starving.”

“Y/n? Is that you,” your mom’s voice called from the kitchen, making you walk in her direction.

Turning the corner, you’re faced with your mother in her usual pajamas, making herself a pot of coffee. You smiled brightly at her, but she gave you a confused look.

“Where are your clothes, bean?” she asked, making the smile drop off your face.

You heard Beomgyu choke from behind you, making your cheeks heat up ridiculously.

“Hello to you too, eomma,” you grumbled, making your way to the fridge to make yourself a yogurt bowl and fight off your blush. “I just went for a run at the worst time possible.”

Your mom snorted at that. “Why in the world would you want to do that?”

“Because I hate myself,” you grumbled sarcastically, only half joking considering your circumstances.

After taking a bit of time to grab all of the ingredients you needed, you went to sit at the counter by your mother who was making herself a mug.

“Did you want a cup?” she asked you, to which you made a sour face. “Oh, right, I forgot you hated coffee.”

“Which is a crime, by the way,” Beomgyu chimed in, coming into the kitchen as well, drying his hands off on a towel from the counter.

“Beomgyu! When did you get here, dear?” Your mother smiled at the boy who was practically her second son.

He smiled widely back at her, going in for a hug before realizing his shirt was horribly stained and pulling back.

“I came with little Y/n. I just went to wash my hands really quickly,” he explained.

Your mother let out a little laugh, “Speaking of washing, what happened to you? You look like you slept in a garage.”

You smirked at that, while Beomgyu went to explain himself. But before he could, you all heard heavy footsteps thunder down the staircase. It had been a few years, but you could recognize Soobin’s footsteps anywhere.

You were proven right when the steps had rounded the corner, revealing your older brother with his eyes barely opened. Soobin slowly trudged through the kitchen, his body on autopilot as he instinctively opened the right cabinets to get a bowl and cereal. It was only when he opened the fridge and grabbed the milk that you decided to say something.

“Well good morning, sunshine,” you cooed, making Beomgyu snort from behind you.

Like on command, your brother screamed and dropped the milk carton. He whipped around to face you, while you were currently swallowing a spoonful of your yogurt bowl.

“Jesus Christ, I forgot you were here,” he muttered. After rubbing his eyes roughly, he opened them once again to look at you, but quickly shielded his eyes and screamed again. “Where the hell are your clothes?!”

Your mom and Beomgyu laughed while you rolled your eyes and chucked a piece of granola at him. Your brother flinched when it bounced off of his forehead.

“Is my nakedness really that bothersome to all of you,” you grumbled, scooping more yogurt into your mouth.

“Not bothersome,” your mom said as she went to grab another mug for your brother as she could tell he was in need of his own cup of coffee, “Just very shocking to see you in a sports bra considering the most exercise you did in high school was walking to the convenience store for ice creams.”

You absentmindedly grinned at that as you remembered all of your ice cream runs with your brother back in high school.

It seemed Soobin was doing the same thing as he let out a happy sigh. “Ah, good times.”

You nodded in agreement as he picked up the milk carton and made his way to sit next to you to eat his breakfast.

Beomgyu came over as well and took the other seat next to you. “Did you enjoy your beauty sleep?”

Soobin squinted at the boy around you. “I did, actually. You look like you could’ve used it though–”

Your mother lightly swatted the back of your brother’s head, ignoring his cry as she asked, “Did you want a cup, Beomgyu?”

He eagerly nodded at her. “Thanks, Mrs. Choi, that sounds great!”

Beomgyu smirked at Soobin, while he merely pouted back. “Why are you even here, Beomgyu? It’s too early to deal with the sight of your face.”

Beomgyu snorted. “I literally texted you about it yesterday before the dinner; I took apart appa’s old grill and I’m setting up the new one since all the guys are coming in this weekend. I need your help with the tank and stuff.”

Soobin groaned at the idea of doing manual labor, while you turned to your brother with a confused look and asked, “‘Guys’? Who’s coming in?”

“Some of our friends from school are coming down to visit. Yeonjun and Kai are definitely; not sure about Taehyun though,” Soobin sighed. “They’ll be here all weekend and staying with Beomgyu. But for the first night, we’re barbecuing and having a bonfire.”

You recognized all of the names: you’d actually met Yeonjun in person years ago, Soobin having met him in his first semester at school and became friends through Beomgyu. They brought Yeonjun back home with them since he didn’t have any plans for the holidays, so you got to know him a bit. Then there was Taehyun, who you’d only heard every now and then from random stories. But at last, there was Kai, who had been a common name thrown around by Soobin, claiming he adored the guy and would pick having him as a younger sibling over you any day.

Whatever.

It honestly surprised you to hear about Taehyun and Kai since it turned out they graduated high school the same year you had. Soobin told you they had met during a party where all three of them hid in a corner and bonded over their friends ditching them for the night. You’d been pretty interested in the lore behind your brother’s friend group when you were eighteen, until you’d heard the reason Soobin was ditched was because Yeonjun had been dragged into a beer pong game where he got smashed, and Beomgyu wanted to hook up with some random girl–who you would rather listen to your brother singing the Attack on Titan theme song for ten hours, than learn about.

“You should actually come with, Y/n,” Beomgyu piped in, nudging your elbow.

You didn’t turn toward him, instead remaining adamant on facing the other direction toward Soobin as he shook his head.

“Uh, no. Why would I surround my sister with a bunch of men? It’s bad enough you can see her like this,” Soobin wrinkled his nose at you, to which you promptly kicked him in the shin. It didn’t take long for him to kick you back.

“Soob, come on,” Beomgyu scoffed.

You honestly couldn’t tell whether Beomgyu was more offended over Soobin refusing you going, or the fact that him being around you was such a bad thing. And, the more you thought about it, the more you really didn’t want to know.

“What?” Soobin defended. “Men are disgusting!”

Your mother placed a mug in front of Soobin and Beomgyu respectively, before adding in her two cents, “I don’t know if you remember, Soobin-ah, but your sister isn’t thirteen anymore. She’s twenty-one and perfectly capable of deciding for herself if she would like to have men around her or not.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Choi! Spoken like a true feminist,” said Beomgyu, a wide grin on his face.

“Since when did you get so progressive?” Soobin deadpanned.

“Since when did you refer to Taehyun and Hyuka as ‘men’?”

“Touché, touché.”

Beomgyu said, “Our friends are literally the greenest flags to walk in South Korea, if little Y/n will be safe with anyone, it will be them.”

“That is true,” Soobin pondered, but you rolled your eyes at the both of them deciding on your weekend’s fate for you.

“Exactly! I don’t know why you never let Y/n come with us,” Beomgyu complained.

Soobin scoffed. “Why do you care so much?”

Your ears burned when Beomgyu stayed quiet at that, not really knowing what to say. Instead, you turned back towards your yogurt and took another mouthful. “Whatever, it’s fine. I don’t wanna go, anyway.”

“What? Y/n,” Beomgyu whined, but you just ignored him. Again.

Even if Soobin hadn’t refused, you would’ve had to look for a good excuse to not go for multiple reasons. And Beomgyu was not the biggest this time. You honestly planned to rot for at least a couple of days, after all the traveling yesterday and your run this morning. Truly, you’d only gone for a run because it was routine and basically instinct. But you were still jet lagged, not to mention your social battery had run fairly low after your best friend, Yunjin’s, party yesterday, and then your surprise reunions with Beomgyu. The party had been a little tiring, but it was incredibly lightweight compared to being with your brother’s best friend. To say the brunette boy was exhausting would be an understatement for you.

“Seriously? You don’t want to go,” Soobin asked, eyebrows lifted. “You always used to beg to hang out with us.”

You nodded and gestured to yourself. “I’m tired, oppa. Besides, like eomma said, I’m not thirteen anymore!”

Soobin looked at your attire once again and mocked, “You sure about that?”

You kicked the crap out of his shin under the table as he cackled.

“You’re adopted,” you growled, making Soobin laugh even harder at you. “You’re not funny, and you’re not cute. I hope you trip over the sidewalk and that your favorite anime character dies–oh wait, he already did.”

Soobin’s jaw dropped. “You bitch–”

This time, it was Beomgyu who roared with laughter as you stood up and placed your yogurt bowl in the sink. After putting all of the food away, you went to stand next time your mom and cling onto her.

She shook her head at the both of you as she wrapped her arms around you as well. “I have to say, even though I love the peace and quiet, I did miss hearing the creative insults you two would throw at each other.”

You tried to hide your smile at that, while Soobin continued grumbling into his cereal. Another thing you had missed: your brother. Your age gap wasn’t very wide and the both of you had many things in common growing up. Though you’d always been close, the both of you had grown a lot closer while in high school. No one had known you better than he had, and the same vice versa, besides maybe Beomgyu. It had honestly broken his heart when you decided to study abroad and leave for four years, but the two of you stayed in contact with random facetimes and his many visits. You would say you stayed in better contact with him than you had anyone else.

“I know you missed your sister too, Soobin,” your mom cooed, causing your brother’s nose to twitch.

He gave a big sigh, “Whatever. Come, don’t come–your choice whether you want to or not.”

Your eyes widened a bit at the yield. Despite all those embarrassing years of begging to hang out with him and his friends, Soobin was adamant on the both of you not mixing friend groups. You knew all of his friends in high school since you passed each other in the halls everyday, but Soobin remained stubborn that you couldn’t join his friends when they went out. It always confused you since his friends were a bunch of angels, but your mom said Soobin was just too protective when it came to you. This never made sense to you, but your parents would always take his side on it. To see your mom voice her opinion against his and your brother finally giving in was a bit of a shock. Maybe you weren’t the only one who had changed a little over the past four years.

“Come on, Y/n, it’ll be fun,” tried Beomgyu.

He turned in his seat to face you and your mom, giving you those famous puppy eyes you’ve recently started to really dislike.

You turned your head away stubbornly, but your mom wasn’t quite done either.

“You should go, bean,” she said, petting the top of your head. “It’ll be like ‘healing your inner child’, or something.”

Your eyebrows raised as you faced your mother. “Who taught you that phrase?”

“Yunjin-ah. I called to congratulate her on graduating the other week,” she supplied, making you roll your eyes at the mention of your childhood best friend.

Of course she did, you mentally laughed.

“Look, I understand you’re tired, but it’s only Tuesday! The boys don’t come in until this weekend, you have plenty of time to rest,” she continued.

It honestly surprised you how much your mom was pushing you. She typically didn’t push you to do much of anything besides clean up. To see her have an actual opinion on it and pursue it against you made you think for a second.

“What, is IU supposed to be there, or something?”

“Huh?” your mom asked, thoroughly confused.

“I mean, there’s gotta be another reason as to why you want me to go so bad.”

Your mom laughed before pinching your ear lovingly, making you squirm away from her. “Sorry I want you to have fun while you’re at home!”

Shrugging your shoulders, you relented. “Fine, because you guys are so desperate–”

“YES!”

Beomgyu cheered as he suddenly stood up from his seat. He clutched the mug your mom gave him in one hand before using the other to give her a one-armed hug and kissed her on the cheek. Your mother laughed as he sang, “Mrs. Choi, I owe you the world!”

Soobin rolled his eyes so harshly it made you stifle a laugh.

“Stop rizzing up my mother, you loser,” he groaned, before getting up to put his bowl and breakfast away. “Let’s just go finish this stupid grill before I ghost you and leave you to build it yourself.”

Beomgyu’s mood didn’t deflate at your brother’s negativity and instead picked up the other mug as well, to bring with them. “Thanks for the coffee, Mrs. Choi! I’ll make sure to bring it back later!”

“Oppa can bring it back,” you reasoned.

“That’s what I just said,” Beomgyu said, a bit of mischief in his tone.

You deadpanned him, but his grin didn’t shift.

“See you later, little Y/n.” And the bastard sauntered away, carrying both mugs for him and your brother who looked like he was going to need it more than anything to get through the rest of the morning.

“Is it too late to back out?” you asked your mom, the fake smile on your face contradicting your serious tone.

Your mother hummed as she studied the view from the window on the side of your house that showed Beomgyu and Soobin on his front lawn, before moving back towards you.

“I have to say, that is probably the happiest I’ve seen him since you left,” she said softly, making the fake smile melt off of your face. “You don’t actually have to go; like I said, you’re old enough to make your own choices. But I think it’d be really good for you to. And if not for you, at least it would be for him.”

You knew your confusion was evident on your face by the knowing smile that crept onto hers.

“Just give it a shot, bean. Besides, I think you’ll really like Soobin’s friends. They’re the sweetest boys you could ever meet.”

–> next <–

#txt #tomorrow x tomorrow #beomgyu #choi beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu imagines #choi soobin #choi yeonjun #kang taehyun #huening kai #beomgyu fluff #stupid cupid

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sixhours · 3 months

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i know you by heart - chapter 7

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Prospect, Joel Miller x Ezra, Joel & Ellie, Ezra & Cee, Joel is bad at feelings and relationships, Ellie is a little shit (affectionate), mostly follows canon after season 1, SMUT, gay sex, bisexual!Joel, period-typical homophobia, alcoholism behavior, light angst, angst with a happy ending, romance, age gap (~10ish years), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

Twelve patrollers including Joel leave the commune just before sunrise, the sky turning a bruised violet color as dark clouds gather. It’s a six-hour ride to the western edge of the patrol zone on a clear day, but the weather is uncooperative, and soon they’re being pelted with a cold October rain.

Seven miserable hours down the road, they arrive at the spot where the original group was attacked. There’s no clear trail, no footprints to follow; the rain has all but washed it away.

“Fan out!” Peterson calls over the rain. “Pair up, use the radios if you spot anything. If they’re still around, we’ll find ‘em.”

Joel and a younger man named Anders take a fork in the path going north, an old logging trail that leads to a camp that serves as an outpost on Jasper Ridge. It’s slow-going, the path is narrow and muddy and lined with dense forest. This area gets little attention on regular patrols, with few structures for scavenging and little chance to encounter infected, which makes it a good place to hide.

When they see a shape in the distance, what looks like a figure crumpled in the center of the path, they slow the horses to a stop, exchanging a look. Joel pulls out his revolver.

“Looks like we got somethin’ up here,” Anders murmurs into the radio. “Northern fork, just shy of the Jasper outpost. Might need backup.”

“Roger,” crackles the walkie. Joel recognizes Peterson’s voice. “On our way.”

They tie off the horses and approach on foot, trying to see through the pelting rain. It’s a blurry lump on the ground at this distance, no way to tell if they’re armed or infected or even human. When they’re fifty feet away, Anders calls out.

“Hey!”

When the figure shifts and rolls onto one side, Joel’s grip on his gun tightens. It’s a young woman, still alive. Her clothes are tattered and caked in mud, barely adequate against the cold. As they get closer he can make out bruises on her face, hear her pained groan.

“H-h-help m-me,” she croaks.

“You bit, ma’am?” Anders asks, keeping a safe distance. He keeps his rifle trained on her while Joel eyes the forest around them, looking for others, but it’s too dim. Rain lashes at the trees, whipping them this way and that, and the overgrowth is too dark and thick to see through.

“N-no. No, I just…I hurt my ankle–”

“You with anyone?”

“I b-b-broke off from a g-group–”

“What group?” Joel asks.

“I don’t know–I was–they were going to k-k-kill me. Please, I’m s-so c-c-cold.”

The hair on the back of Joel’s neck is prickling with a familiar unease. Nothing about this feels right. In another life, he’d have already put a bullet in the woman’s head and turned back, but a year in Jackson has softened him.

“Ma’am–“

Anders has almost closed the distance between them when a voice rings out from somewhere in the trees.

“Put down your weapons! Hands where I can see them!”

Shit.

Joel raises his revolver but between the rain and his bad ear, he can’t tell where the voice is coming from.

“Don’t do it, old man. You’re surrounded.”

He and Anders exchange a look.

“Nuh-uh,” says the voice. “You’ve got ten seconds to unload before I shoot. Do it!”

Sneering, Joel flicks open the revolver's barrel and shakes out the rounds into his palm.

“Toss' em over there. Now!”

He does, flinging the bullets into the tree line and letting the revolver drop to the ground.

“Happy?”

“Now the rifles.”

“The hell do you–“

“Do it!”

Slowly they unshoulder their rifles and unload them, slowly edging toward each other until they’re standing back-to-back.

“You from that settlement back east?” the voice calls, somewhere on Joel’s side, a shadow in the trees off the edge of the path.

“Who’s askin’?” Anders fires back.

“No one you know, I’m afraid.”

A man comes out of the trees, gun leveled at Joel.

Then a rustling from the brush on the left, barely heard over the growl of the wind. And another, and another, and another, until they’re surrounded by at least five more that Joel can see. The woman gets up off the ground and limps to the side of one of the men meekly, her purpose fulfilled.

Bait.

“You the ones who shot up our men?” Joel asks through gritted teeth. He eyes the faces around them searching for Tommy, but there’s no sign.

“Maybe they shot first.”

“Doubt that,” Joel says. “Heard you have one of ours.”

“Depends. Do you have the girl?”

“Think you got the wrong folks,” he tries, playing dumb. “We don’t know noth–”

The man tightens his hand on the gun. “Let’s not play games. You have her. We have him. Don’t make this difficult.”

“I don’t see our man.”

“And I don’t see the kid,” he says, making a show of looking around. “So it seems we’re at a stalemate.”

“Would seem that way,” Joel says.

“Look, maybe we got off on the wrong foot,” Anders cuts in, and Joel almost wheels on him to tell him to be quiet, stops himself at the last second. No sudden moves.

“What’s your name? Where you folks comin’ from?”

Anders nudges his back and Joel glares over his shoulder, but the young man keeps talking.

“We got room back in town. Food. Supplies. If you’re willin’ to work for it. Maybe we don’t need to make this a trade.”

“Is that right?” the man sneers. “How generous.”

Anders seems intent on making friends and Joel is about ready to tackle him to the ground just to shut him up when the young man nudges him harder, more insistently. It dawns on Joel that he’s trying to buy time.

Gotta keep ‘em talking until backup gets here.

“Yeah,” Anders says with a smile in his voice. “We got a pretty good thing goin’ out here. The more the merrier, ain’t that what they say?”

“Think you can understand why we’d be hesitant to take you up on that.”

“You wanna come back with us, you can see for yourselves,” Anders says. “Ain’t that far, though you’d have to walk. We don’t have enough horses. How many ya have?”

No answer.

“I’m Andy, this here’s Joel,” he tries. “S’just us, just lookin’ for our man. Looks like you got a good sized crew here…”

“Not telling you

“The kid’s back there, safe and sound,” he continues. “And we could use some clever folks, people with skill. This don’t have to be a showdown.”

“He’s right,” Joel grits out, jaw aching with the effort. “Show us our man and we’ll take you to her. No hard feelin’s.”

“Hear that, guys? Open invitation.”

Scattered noises from the crowd, none of it discernable, but it doesn’t sound friendly.

Hurry the fuck up, Peterson.

“No one’s gotta get hurt. There’s medicine…clothes. Looks like she could use some patchin’ up,” Joel says, nodding to the woman shivering across from them. “Why don’t y’all put down the guns and we’ll talk it out.”

“Yeah, yeah, the town, I heard you. See, here’s the thing. I’d bet you have a lot of men waiting for us back there, and I bet they ain’t too happy with us.”

“Can you blame ‘em?” Joel snaps.

The man shrugs. “We’re not going anywhere. If you don’t have the girl, we don’t have any further business here.”

He cocks his gun to prove the point.

“Hold up. Think this through,” Joel says quickly. “She ain’t comin’ out here. You said it yourself, lotta men who’ll be mighty angry if you kill one of ours. Kill us and you’ll never see her.”

The man’s nostrils flare in anger and Joel knows he’s walking a fine line between biding their time and getting shot.

“You’re outnumbered…and you know it,” Joel guesses. “Or you wouldn’t be waitin’ out here in the middle of nowhere. Show us our man and we’ll get you to your girl. S’that simple.”

The man snarls. “Alright. You wanna see him?”

He looks over his shoulder and jerks his chin at one of the men in the trees. Joel’s eyes stay trained on the gun in his hand even as they bring Tommy out, dragged by two men and dumped unceremoniously at the man’s feet. He’s on his knees, barely upright, drenched and muddied with his hands and feet tied behind him. His shoulder looks twisted, jutting out at an odd angle, and his shirt is drenched in blood.

Joel’s jaw tightens as he tries not to stare at his brother’s battered, silent form.

“He ain’t movin’,” Joel says tightly.

C’mon, Peterson, where the hell are you?

The man toes Tommy with his boot, harder than necessary, and it takes all Joel’s effort not to launch himself at him and tear him apart with his bare hands. Tommy lets out a gruff groan of pain as he’s knocked forward, rolls to his side.

“See? Still breathing,” the man says, grinning wickedly.

“Think your girl should come back in the same shape?” Joel grits out.

“As long as she comes back,” he says flatly. “But folks like you? You don’t have it in–”

A gunshot rings out. One of the raiders at the edge of the woods drops with a pained cry, and the man’s eyes go wide.

Fuckin’ finally.

Relief is short-lived as confusion breaks out. Joel launches himself at their attacker and knocks him to the ground, smacking the pistol from his hand as more gunshots sound amidst shouts of surprise from all around.

There’s a scramble as Joel tries to keep the man pinned while reaching back for his rifle. He finally gets his feet under him, then faintly recognizes a hot slice of pain across his left calf as a bullet grazes his leg. Rifle found, he manages to swing the butt of the unloaded gun to connect soundly with the man’s head before he can get up.

“Stay the fuck down,” he growls, landing a kick to the man’s ribs that curls him up like a worm as Joel fumbles to reload the gun.

There’s the sharp crack of more fire in the trees and then an ominous quiet, followed by the sounds of more shouting, familiar voices as the Jackson patrollers close in. Somewhere off to his left, Peterson calls, “I counted nine!”

“Eight here,” someone else says. “Think we’ve got a runner.”

“I’ll get him.”

Anders at his back. “Joel! You got that one?”

“Yeah,” he says, not taking his eyes or his gun off the man on the ground. “Tommy, y’alright?”

Anders kneels and helps Tommy up.

“M’here,” he coughs.

When it’s over, there are six men and women tied and lying on their stomachs with three more dead.

The Jackson group has a handful of bullet wounds between them, and by some miracle, none of them are fatal. They send the worst of the injured home on horseback, Tommy among them, leaving enough patrollers to handle the raiders.

Some dim part of Joel recognizes that he should have gone back, too. He’s struggling to stay upright as the adrenaline wears off, the wound on his leg bleeding through a hastily applied bandage, soaking his jeans. But after seeing Tommy’s injuries, he wants to be here for every second of what comes next.

“That one, up,” Joel says, pointing at the raiding party’s spokesman, and Anders and Peterson yank the man to his knees with a grunt.

“Who’re you lookin’ for?”

The man scowls. Joel taps him with the barrel of his rifle.

“Speak up.”

“Fuck you,” he snarls.

Anders is quick with his rifle, smacking the man in the back of the head hard enough to send him sprawling, but Peterson holds him upright by one arm.

“Let’s try this again,” Joel says. “Who’re you lookin’ for?”

“My k-kid,” he spits. “She c-came out this way with a man.”

Joel grinds his teeth. “That right?”

“Blonde, blue eyes, she’s…she’d be s-s-seventeen…her name is Cecilia–”

Tears shine in his eyes but a hint of defiance lingers. Joel exchanges a knowing look with Peterson, a silent agreement. He sighs and shoulders his rifle, then pulls out his knife. No sense wasting ammunition.

“Don’t know her,” he says flatly. “Guess you fucked with the wrong people.”

“No! No-wait, please, you have to wait, just–she was taken, she was taken from me. All I want is my little girl back. The man who took her–”

Anger flares hot and red in Joel’s gut.

“She get the same treatment as her?” Joel jerks his chin toward the woman in the tattered clothes, now tied alongside the others on the ground.

“I don’t–”

Joel grips the man by the hair, yanking his head back, exposing his throat.

“Tell me,” he growls. “Tell me what happens to little girls with your kind. Tell me she ain’t better off with you dead.”

“N-no, she’s not–it’s not like that, man–tell him–Bonnie, tell–tell him–”

He looks side to side, frantic. The woman in question doesn’t speak, only gives a soft, plaintive sob. Of all the lives they’ll take today, hers will be the one that gives him pause, but Jackson’s policy on raiders is clear. They’ll be treated like rabid dogs, put to death, the bodies left behind as a warning for others.

“Please, just–we’ll come quietly. You said…you said there was food…we’re starving–”

Joel snorts. “Now you’re ready to play nice, huh?”

“Look, please, we’re just–”

“You got anyone else out here s’gonna give us trouble?”

“N-no, there’s–it’s just us, but–”

“Good.”

The blade is sharp, and Joel’s practiced hand slices through the man’s artery with ease. It’s a faster death than he deserves, but between the pelting rain and the dwindling daylight, they need to move on. The man gurgles and spits his protest, and when Peterson lets go, he slumps to the ground, his blood making a muddy red pool underneath him.

Joel wipes his blade on his jeans, limps over to the next prone figure.

“Let’s get the rest of ‘em.”

It’s dark when Joel finally makes it back to Jackson. There’s blood on his jacket, mud caked on his clothes, and his calf is on fire, the bandage long since soiled and soaked through. He’s drenched and shivering as he and the remaining patrol crew ride through the gates.

When the wall opens up ahead of them, there’s a crowd gathered and waiting, Maria at the front. The relief in her eyes is palpable.

“Where’s Tommy?” he asks, easing down from his horse.

“They’ve got him at the clinic. He’s pretty beaten up but he’s going to be fine. And you?” she says, glancing down at his bloodied leg.

“S’nothin’,” he winces, trying not to put weight on it. “You should be with Tommy.”

“He insisted I come check on you,” she says, arching an eyebrow. “Besides, I wanted to get the story from someone I trust.”

She lowers her voice, pulls him off to the side. “They said it was raiders? Not Fireflies?”

“Uh-huh. They were lookin’ for…someone else’s kid, I guess,” he says.

“Someone else’s kid?”

He bites at the inside of his cheek. “Cee…I think.”

“Ezra’s?”

Joel nods tightly. “We took care of it. They won’t bother us again.”

She considers this with dark eyes and a hint of suspicion before nodding, squeezing him lightly on the shoulder. “Alright. You and the others will debrief with the council in the morning. Rest up.”

“You, too.”

Someone has fetched the horses and the rest of the crowd starts to dissipate. Joel is prepared to hobble home until he sees them some distance from the gate. Ellie is standing with Ezra, tucked under his arm, both of them shivering. His first thought, ludicrous as it is, is that they shouldn’t be out in this rain.

But then Ellie spots him and sets off running, her eyes wide and wet, and her arms fix themselves around his waist, nearly knocking him over.

“Stupid asshole,” she mutters thickly into his chest.

“Hey, kiddo,” he sniffs, returning the hug, relishing the solid weight of her against him. “Nice to see you, too.”

Ezra watches from afar, his face solemn. Joel meets his eyes over the top of Ellie’s head and gives him one terse nod, telling him everything he needs to know.

It’s done.

He turns away just as Ellie pulls back and looks up at him sternly, then down at his leg. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothin’, just a graze. I’ll be–”

“Clinic,” she snaps. “Now.”

“I don’t–”

But she’s already tucked herself under his arm and is moving them in the direction of the clinic. She’s still small for her age, but stronger than she looks–months of patrol training have paid off, and she makes a sturdy crutch.

“You’re gonna freeze out here,” he mutters. “Where’s your damn jacket?”

“Shut up and walk, old man.”

He leans on Ellie all the way to the clinic. She refuses to let him go until he’s safely deposited onto a cot and struggling to take off his jeans. The blood and dirt have caked over where the bullet took a chunk out of his flesh, the fabric around it stiff and soaked.

Ellie folds her arms across her chest and paces the tiny room while they wait for a nurse. The staff are busy with more urgent cases after the day’s events, so he settles in.

“We can just go home,” Joel tries after half an hour has passed. “This ain’t nothin’ I haven’t–”

“Don’t even think about getting off that bed or I’ll shoot your other leg, too,” she fumes.

He puts his hands up in surrender. “Alright…fine.”

A clock on the wall ticks and Ellie resumes her pacing. Eventually she stops and turns to face him.

“You should’ve told me you were going.”

“Yeah, well…you weren’t exactly talkin’ to me,” he sighs.

“You could have been killed.”

“We take that risk every time we go outside the walls. You know that well as anyone,” he says gently. “‘Sides, they had Tommy. I had to. If it…if it were you…”

He shakes his head, can’t finish the thought.

After a minute, she huffs a frustrated sigh and plops down on the bed next to him, frowning.

“You’re still an asshole,” she mutters, but she’s leaning into him now, shoulder to shoulder, picking at her cuticles the way she does when she’s nervous.

“Yeah, reckon I am,” he says. “But I’m still here.”

The nurse takes that moment to interrupt, swooping in with a wound kit. Ellie’s fingers find his as the nurse uncovers the bloody gash and begins dabbing at it with clean gauze.

“I’m alright,” he reassures her, grimacing as the nurse works around the wound, the antibiotic wash stinging something fierce. “Just a scratch.”

She fixes him with a glare that says she doesn’t believe a word, so he shuts up and lets her squeeze his hand. Before long, he’s bandaged and cleaned up and cleared to go home with a course of antibiotics.

“Take care of your dad, hon,” the nurse smiles on the way out.

“I will.”

They’re leaving the room before Joel realizes she hadn’t bothered to correct her.

On the way out, Ellie stops them halfway down the hall. “Wait…can we check on Tommy?”

“‘Course,” Joel says.

He points them in the direction of the bigger rooms used for in-patient care, peeking into each of them until they find his brother at the end. He’s dressed in a hospital gown, sitting up in bed. Cleaned of blood and dirt, his face looks slightly less gruesome. His left eye is a purple swollen mass and there are sutures over the worst of the gashes on his neck and face. His shoulder is no longer jutting out at a weird angle, fixed in place by a sling. Based on the way he’s holding himself, Joel suspects he has some broken ribs.

But he’s alive.

Joel nods in greeting, exchanges a glance with Maria, sitting in the chair at the side of his bed.

“Hey, brother,” Tommy murmurs. “Y’all goin’ home?”

“Yeah. Just wanted to check on ya.”

Ellie goes to him and before either of them can say another word, she leans down and puts her arms around Tommy’s neck in a careful hug. He pats her on the back, eyes widening in surprise, whispers something to his niece that Joel can’t hear. Ellie nods into the crook of his neck and doesn’t pull away for a long time. When she does, her face is pinched tight, like she’s trying not to cry.

He can practically hear Maria’s I told you so in her smirk.

Then Ellie is back at Joel’s side, almost crashing into him, re-anchoring her arms around his waist.

“Let’s go home, ‘kay?” he tries gently, palming the back of her head, giving her ponytail a gentle tug.

Ellie nods against his ribs, and it takes a solid minute for her to let him go enough so he can walk, nudging them in the direction of home. By the time they get inside, they’re both drenched all over again.

“Hot shower, now,” he mutters. “Ezra shouldn’t have had you out in the rain, god knows how long, it’s fuckin’ freezin’ out–”

“I made him,” she cuts in. “When they brought back the others and you weren’t there, I thought…I thought–”

Her chin trembles and her eyes fill with tears. In the quiet of their little house, all her previous fury is nowhere to be found.

“I know,” he softens. “I know, baby, it’s alright.”

“I didn’t even say goodbye,” she whispers, voice wavering. “I was so…so fucking mad at you, dude. You shouldn’t–shouldn’t have–”

“I know,” he soothes, cupping her face in his hands. “Hey. I’m not goin’ anywhere, baby girl.”

“I’m still fucking m-m-mad at you,” she hiccups.

“I know,” he says. “An’ we have a lot to talk about. But…not tonight, okay?”

She bites her lip, swiping at her eyes.

“Tomorrow. Let’s get some sleep and I’ll…I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. I’ll tell you everything.”

She nods, then ducks between his arms, butting her head into the center of his chest and squeezing him so tight it hurts. It’s a good hurt, though; like re-breaking a bone so it can heal.

“Shower,” he repeats thickly, but his arms refuse to move.

“Mmph. Have to let me go.”

“You first,” he chuckles, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

“You first,” she retorts, scrubbing her nose on his soaked t-shirt.

They practically sway with fatigue, dripping rain water and mud onto the kitchen floor, still shivering in wet clothes. But she doesn’t let go, so neither does he.

The shower, when he finally steps under the spray, feels amazing. Joel turns the water up to scalding to try to take the chill out of his bones, can almost hear the ancient hot water tank protesting. He’ll have to replace the dressing on his wound but it’s worth it.

Every muscle in his body aches. He’s embarrassed at how stunted his movements are, how difficult it is just to pull on his sweatpants. If Ellie catches him hobbling around like an old man she’ll never let him live it down, but the thought of her teasing only serves to put a smile on his face.

She’s home.

By the time he’s dried off and rebandaged his leg and dressed, she’s curled up in his bed, damp hair soaking his pillows, wearing a pair of his sweats and one of his t-shirts. He doesn’t have the energy to grump at her for stealing his clothes.

“Scoot over, blanket hog,” he murmurs, poking her in the side until she complies, rolling herself up in his down comforter like a burrito in the process. She has the audacity to growl at him when he tries to take the blanket back.

He groans getting into bed, back popping like a firecracker, and Ellie mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like old man into the thick comforter.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, pulling the spare wool blanket from the foot of the bed and tugging it over himself.

Ellie’s big brown eyes poke out over the top of her blanket cocoon, staring at him from the other side of the bed. They haven’t done this in months, he realizes. He supposes he should be relieved; no nightmares, no need to keep him close in the darkest hours.

He didn’t expect to miss it.

“Thought you weren’t gonna come back. Someone said they had Tommy and you were gone and–”

“Hey,” he whispers, reaching out to gently pinch her chin between his thumb and finger. “Don’t gotta worry about that now.”

She sniffs and nods, burrowing further into the comforter and wiggle-worming her way over to him. There’s a lump in his throat as she tucks her head under his chin.

“What happened?” she whispers.

“Bad folks. Raiders.”

“Did you kill them?”

Joel remembers the look in the man’s eyes when he realized he was going to die. How easily his supposed daughter was used as a pawn for sympathy. The woman’s body lying in the path, used as bait. The clean cut of the knife, body after body after body.

“They’re not gonna hurt anyone again,” Joel sighs.

“Okay,” she says. Then, in a small voice slurred by exhaustion, “M’sorry I ran away.”

“I knew where you were.”

“I was a jerk.”

“Yeah, well…so was I. I’d say we’re even but…I have a lot more to answer for��n you do,” he sighs, a lazy dread prickling at the back of his neck at the thought. He’s too tired to give it fuel, though, so he reaches back and turns off the bedside lamp. “Tomorrow, alright? Promise.”

“Pinky promise,” she yawns. There’s a rustling as she frees her arm from the blanket and holds up her hand.

“Pinky promise,” he murmurs, locking their fingers and ducking his head to kiss her crown.

There’s another pause while he wracks his overtired brain for the right words. Eventually he settles on the simplest truth.

“I love you, kid. You know that, right?” he asks into the darkness. “I know it ain’t always…easy. An’ I’m not good at sayin’ it, but…I do.”

It’s a long time before she speaks, long enough that Joel wonders if she’s fallen asleep. But then he catches the hint of a sniffle in his good ear.

“Yeah, asshole,” she sniffs. “I know.”

Then another pause, wherein he’s certain she’s fallen asleep. He’s almost there himself when he hears it, muffled by the blankets and his chest.

“I love you, too.”

He wakes the next morning to Ellie’s knee jammed into his ribs, her head still tucked under his chin, arm thrown across his chest. She’s half wormed her way out of the blanket in her sleep, they’re tangled in her legs and wrapped around her torso. Somehow he manages to extract himself without waking her.

He pads to the bathroom to check the dressing on his leg; no more bleeding, no signs of infection yet, but everything hurts. What he wouldn’t give for a bottle of aspirin. He considers another shower to loosen his aching joints and muscles but he doesn’t want to wake Ellie, so instead he hobbles downstairs, muffling a grunt of pain with every step, and heads to the kitchen to make coffee.

He’s just settled on the porch swing with his mug when the front door creaks open. The first frost has settled across the grass, beaded drops frozen and glittering after last night’s rain.

Ellie steps outside, scowling into the light, still wrapped in his comforter. Her hair sticks up in wild spikes, ponytail skewed to the side of her head, and a thin film of dried spit decorates the corner of her mouth.

“You’re up early,” he says.

“Not as early as you.”

He shifts over on the swing and Ellie plops down next to him. Then she scoots closer and leans into his shoulder with a wordless grunt, wrinkling her nose at the smell of his coffee. The warmth of her presence makes his heart ache with affection, and he drapes an arm over her shoulders, letting her tuck into his side. For a while he thinks she’s fallen asleep again, and that would be alright, but then she speaks, low and hesitant.

“Do we have to talk about it now?”

“I reckon sooner is better than later.”

“I…dunno how to start.”

“Well…what do you want to know?”

“I want to know about the hospital,” she murmurs, pulling away from him and looking down at her lap.

He takes a deep breath, lets it out in a shaky rush. “Yeah…thought you might.”

“I want to know what happened. For real.”

So he tells her. He tells her what Marlene told him; that the cordyceps was in her brain. That the operation would kill her. That he’d lied about the other immune people, lied about the search for a cure, lied about the raider attack.

The words feel slimy on his tongue, months of shame pouring out of him like black oil, the aftertaste bitter.

She listens with an unnatural stoicism, jaw clenched and working, tears pooling in her lower lashes.

“Did you kill them?” she asks, her voice rough.

He bites the inside of his cheek until it bleeds. He nods.

“And…Marlene?”

Another nod. His voice is raspy when he speaks.

“She would have come after you. I couldn’t let that happen.”

She’s too quiet, the silence too loud, so he continues.

“Losing you wasn’t an option, El. It wasn’t a choice. Couldn’t do that again. Couldn’t lose a…another daughter.”

Her head snaps up at that, her expression impossible to read.

“Talk to me, kiddo,” he whispers when the silence that settles around them feels too heavy to bear.

“I think…I think I hate you for that,” she says.

There it is; confirmation of his worst fears, spoken aloud. The words don’t sound so daunting in the open air. He breathes it in, surprised to find her judgment doesn’t hurt the way he imagined it would. Maybe he’s too tired, in too much pain for them to sink in…but she hasn’t screamed at him, either. Hasn’t stormed off. She’s still bundled up in his comforter, shoulder nudging his with every gentle rock of the swing.

“That’s…that’s fair,” he chokes out. “I…understand.”

“But I…I still fucking love you, too.”

That lump in his throat is back. He tries to clear it with a sip of coffee but it doesn’t work, so he just ducks his head in a nod.

“Ezra said…he said it could be both. That hate and love are two sides of the same coin…or whatever,” she rolls her eyes, sniffs.

“You talked to Ez, huh?”

“I didn’t want to,” she wrinkles her nose. “I figured he’d just defend you because…y’know.”

Joel lets out a watery chuckle at that. “That ain’t his way.”

“Yeah. He said I was right to be angry. Said I had to ‘feel my feelings’ or some shit. Write things down so they make sense in my head. He’s so fucking annoying sometimes.”

“He is,” he says drily. “But I reckon he knows more about this stuff than we do.”

“I guess,” she says, mouth pinched in a frown.

He looks away, listens to the gentle creak of the porch swing on its chain, a bird’s call as the first rays of light spill onto the lawn.

“Look, I don’t blame you for bein’ mad at me, Ellie,” he says, keeping his eyes fixed on a point in the distance. “I know…what I did…it’s a hard thing to forgive. I know I took a choice from you, at a time when you didn’t have a lot of choices…an’ I’m sorry for that. Maybe you can’t forgive me for it, and that’s…that’s alright.

“But no matter what…no matter how mad you are, or how much you hate me…I’ll be here. You’re my–you’re mine,” he whispers, ducking his head. “I’m never gonna stop lookin’ out for you. I’ll never stop carin’ about you. I feel like that’s what I was put on this earth to do. An’ I know you may not understand that right now…but it’s the truth.”

She looks at him with that same expression she’d had in Salt Lake City, when he was the guy who shot and missed, and she was the girl who healed what time could not.

“I want to forgive you,” she says softly, wiping her eyes on the blanket. “I want to try. I want us to be…better.”

“I want that too, kiddo,” he says softly. “More’n anything.”

“So…no more lies,” she says. “No more hiding things. No more secrets.”

“No more secrets,” he agrees.

They sit side by side, rocking, and Joel sips his coffee. He feels lighter than he has in months.

“So…while we’re being honest or whatever…I guess I have one more question,” Ellie says.

“Shoot, kiddo.”

“I get why you lied about the hospital…kinda. I don’t fucking like it,” she says, brow furrowing. “But I get why you did it.”

Joel nods.

“But I wouldn’t have cared about Ezra. I’m not…y’know, a homophobic dick. I mean, it’s gross, but that’s because it’s you.”

Joel huffs a soft laugh. “I know you wouldn’t, kid. An’ it ain’t like that. Not exactly.”

“So…why?”

“I guess…I didn’t have anyone when Sarah was alive. I was her dad, and for a long time, that’s all I knew how to be. Then I lost her…and I never thought I’d have a, uh…a life again.

“But now we’re here,” he says, looking down their street, the sun casting a warm glow over the mountains in the distance, drops of half-frozen water glittering in the grass, lights glowing in the houses around them. The serenity of an early autumn morning in a small town, their safe haven…their home.

“An’ I have you,” he smiles softly. “So I guess I thought it would be like it was…before. When it was just Sarah n’ Tommy n’ me, and I didn’t make a lot of room for anyone else. But now Tommy has a family of his own, so that changes things. And then…then I met…”

“You met Ezra,” Ellie prompts.

“Yeah,” he smiles a little. “Yeah, I met Ezra and he, uh, reminded me what it was like to–”

“Ugh, please don’t finish that sentence,” she shudders.

“To have more, s’what I was gonna say,” he mutters. “But I guess I…I didn’t think I deserved it. Done so much bad shit…then lyin’ to you…well. That kinda thing eats at you.

“So I told myself I was protectin’ you. Told myself I had to choose. An’ it wasn’t a fair fight…‘cause I’d choose you every time.”

“Dude, that’s so fucked up. You get that, right?”

“I know,” he winces.

“I don’t want to be the reason you don’t have…someone…if that’s what you want.”

“Yeah,” he tilts his head. “Guess I didn’t think about it like that, but…you’re right. S’not fair to, uh…to put that on you.”

He takes a deep breath and lets it out in a rough sigh.

“To be honest, I don’t know what I’m doin’, kid. I didn’t have that chance with Sarah. Never…never made it this far.”

She gapes at him. “And you think I know what I’m doing? Jeez, dude, I’ve never had a fucking family. And now I have, like, a shitload of people who care about where I am and how I’m doing and making me eat and go to school and it’s so fucking weird. And I feel like I’m fucking it up all the fucking time.”

She wouldn’t believe him if he told her she couldn’t fuck it up if she tried, so instead, he says, “Guess that makes two of us, huh?”

She sniffs. “Yeah.”

“Least we get to fuck it up together.”

She doesn’t answer, just leans into him again, letting the swing rock, and when he puts his arm around her shoulders again she burrows against his side.

“I missed you,” she mumbles, and he feels the warm breath of her words through his flannel. “Ezra’s cool, but…you give better hugs.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “Both arms.”

“Christ, Ellie,” he groans. “You can’t just say shit like that, kid. That’s…that’s a journal thought, not an out-loud thought.”

“What? Ezra thought it was funny!”

“You…said that to him?” he blanches.

“Yep,” she says, looking up at him. “Speaking of Ezra…are you two gonna, you know, figure out your shit?”

“Couldn’t tell you,” he winces, rubbing his chin. “Don’t know if I'll get a second chance there...”

“He misses you, y’know. Kept playing all this slow, sappy music. Was a real bummer.”

A warm, glowing ember of hope flickers in his chest. “That so?”

“Yep. You’re both so obvious it’s stupid. Cee and I had a running bet going–“

“You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’,” he mutters under his breath. Did the entire town of Jackson have a pool on his love life or just his nosy-ass family?

“–but then you two had to go and make it all sad.”

“Uh-huh. Sorry to be such a ‘bummer,’” he grumbles.

She rolls her eyes. “Just talk to him. If I have to listen to any more of that sad Linda Ronstadt shit, I’ll–”

“Alright, alright, cool it, kid,” he sighs. “I’ll try, okay?”

“Good,” she nods, apparently satisfied. “Can we be done with the mushy stuff now? It’s freezing out here and you owe me pancakes.”

“I do?”

“Yep. You want my forgiveness, you better plan on pancakes. Every Sunday morning for, oh…the rest of your life.”

“That all?” he murmurs, arching an eyebrow.

“No, but you gotta start somewhere,” she shrugs, standing and facing him, hugging the comforter around her. Her smile is as radiant as the morning sun, and he returns it with his whole heart.

“I think I can manage that.”

The debrief is held in an office off the former school gymnasium that serves as the town hall. All seven members of the council are seated around a large conference table, and one by one they call in each of the patrollers involved in yesterday’s encounter.

Maria assured Joel this was standard procedure as they walked to the town hall together that morning.

“No one is on trial, we just want to have a clear picture of what happened for the record.”

With seven expectant faces staring back at him, asking questions and scratching notes on legal pads, he’s not sure he fully believes that.

When he’s finally cleared to go, he makes his way out to the gymnasium, passes Peterson and Anders in the hallway with a nod…and bumps into Ezra.

“Hey…what’re you doin’ here?”

“It was requested that I attend. I presume my name came up in relation to the group that attacked.”

He holds up his hand before Joel can confirm. “I have nothing to hide. I was honest during my intake save for that one…pesky detail. And as a personal matter between myself and Cee, I don’t expect blowback on the issue from anyone except her. Speaking of…I take it you found my…former employer?”

“Yeah…think we did.”

“And am I to assume you…took care of it in the manner we discussed prior to that engagement?”

“Yeah.”

A sharp nod. “Then I don’t see a need for additional deliberation on the matter. What’s done, as they say, is done.”

Joel twists his mouth in a frown. “Does Cee know?”

The other man won’t meet his eyes now. “Not yet. I must admit, I fear revealing the truth will set back her progress–”

“Ez. She’s your kid. Not a fuckin’ case study.”

He nods tightly. “I am well aware.”

“Are you? ‘Cause I know you said you don’t feel that way, but…she’s still just a kid. She needs someone.”

“She deserves better,” he whispers.

“Maybe so. But you’re what she’s got,” he says. “Look, I know I’m the last one to be givin’ advice, but…secrets have a way of goin’ bad. Makin’ things worse. An’ Cee…she’s a smart kid. Smart kids figure things out.”

“You would know,” Ezra murmurs with a smirk, then sighs. “Trust that I’ll take your input under advisement. Despite what you may believe about us…I still value your opinion.”

Joel grimaces, looking around. He lowers his voice, moving them out into the gym and away from the others. “Yeah…’bout that. I, uh…think I owe you an apology. Wasn’t honest with myself…or you. I’m not…”

He huffs a frustrated sigh, rolls his eyes to the ceiling.

“Back before, when we first…I told you I didn’t know how…how to do this–”

“You say as much, but that does not ring true to my understanding.”

Joel arches an eyebrow. “You sayin’ the last few months have been good?”

He smirks. “They’ve been genuine. Real. Messy and…true.”

“Look, Ellie is…she’s my everythin’, Ez. She takes priority.”

“As she should. I’ve never asked for anything else.”

Joel shakes his head. “You deserve…someone who can be…more…”

“And what makes you think that someone can’t be you, hm?”

“Ez–”

Ezra steps closer, reaching out to trace the line of his jaw with his thumb, the touch so familiar, so wanted it almost hurts.

“What if I was willing to…to share your affections? Even if that meant playing second fiddle to your young prodigy. What if I was willing to accept that?”

Joel’s voice has gone to gravel, a raw edge. “You sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’?”

“I’m saying that I don’t think…what we share must be divided. I think you can have both…but only if you’re willing to lay claim to it.”

Joel’s Adam’s apple bobs at his throat as he draws closer. “I…I think I’d–”

The door to the gym slams open and Ellie bursts in. “There you are. The hell have you–oh.”

She stops short, the words echoing in the cavernous space.

“Need a minute here, El,” he says, eyes fixed on Ezra’s. “Meet you back at the house.”

“I can wait,” she says, all feigned innocence.

“The house, kid,” he says, finally breaking Ezra’s gaze to give her a pointed glare.

“Ugh, fine,” she says, but she flashes him a thumbs-up sign and a toothy grin.

When the door shuts, Joel lets out a soft huff of laughter. “Christ…I, uh…what was I sayin’?”

“You were about to confess your undying affection, I hope,” Ezra says wryly.

“Right,” he says, cheeks flaming. “Uh, I’d like to…try. If you’ll…if you, uh…if…if I…fuck.”

A wordless growl of longing rises from his throat as he closes the distance between them, pressing their lips together, saying with actions what he can’t with words. One hand cradles his jaw, Ezra’s scruff scratching a brand against his palm, the other cupping the back of his neck, keeping him close as their mouths slant together, warm and soft and sweet.

“I missed you,” Ezra breathes when they break apart.

“I–”

“Ezra? They’re ready for you.”

Someone–sounds like Anders–pokes their head out of the hallway, and it’s all Joel can do not to turn around and snap at yet another interruption.

“Seems I’m being summoned,” Ezra murmurs, eyes dark and glittering with want. “I’ll see you soon, songbird.”

“Soon,” Joel echoes, frozen in place as Ezra walks away. He brushes his hand across his lips to cover his grin, almost floating as he walks out onto the street. Squinting into the daylight, he’s unsurprised to find Ellie leaning against the side of the building.

“Thought I told you to wait at home,” he sighs.

“Bold of you to assume I’d listen,” she says easily, falling into step beside him, slowing her pace to match his slight limp. “You two gonna…y’know?”

He flicks a glance sideways, unable to contain the little smile that pulls at his lips. “We’ll see, kiddo.”

“So that’s a ‘yes,’” she grins. “Good, Cee owes me.”

“Yeah…think we’re gonna have to have a little talk about gamblin’,” he mutters, throwing an arm around her shoulder as they make their way home.

#the last of us fanfic #prospect fanfic #joel miller x ezra prospect #joel miller #ellie williams #ezra prospect

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sluttyten · 2 years

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UNHOLY - Chapter Seven

full masterlist || UNHOLY chapter index

genre: supernatural au

characters: fem reader, yuta, ten, winwin, mark, others mentioned

tags: polyamory, smut, knotting, mentions of breeding, threesome, double penetration, angst

length: 18,094

<-previous || next–>

There aren’t truly seasons here in this place, you realize as time goes on. Days flicker by like nothing; time doesn’t truly pass here. The immutable twilight hour hangs forever over this city. But you do begin to notice the way the weather changes, shifting to a minor degree, growing cooler as you dive into the time that would be the true start of winter if you were at home.

Both Yuta and Ten are more than happy to spend those cool days in bed with you or wandering the city and treating you to warm drinks and hot meals.

The noticeable shift in the weather does make you long for late autumn and early winter at home. Those early mornings when the world would be covered in frost, each blade of grass shimmering in the rising sunlight, your breath clouding in front of your face as you walked to work. You miss the first good, solid freeze of the year when the ponds would freeze completely and packs of kids would gather around the ponds to skate on their smooth surfaces.

You find yourself missing Christmas music and decorations, the excitement of the season, the snowfall and celebration of it all.

Yuta wrinkles his nose a little when you mention it to him one day.

You’re sitting out on your small balcony together. You’re drinking a hot tea, cupping the mug in your hands and using just a little bit of your flame to keep it from cooling down in the sharp, bitter wind that licks against your balcony. Yuta sits behind you, limbs wrapped around you, his chin tucked over your shoulder.

“What is there to celebrate about winter?” He asks. “It’s cold, dark, everything dies. Why would humans want to celebrate?”

“It’s a religion thing, mostly.” You sigh, the steam coming off the top of your mug blows out towards the city. Beneath you, it doesn’t look like winter, and you sink into memories of proper winter. “It’s so lovely this time of year back at home. All the snow and the Christmas lights, the smell of pine trees and peppermint. All the stores are packed this time of year, and toy stores go a little overboard, to an almost fantastic degree. I remember when I was a kid, there was one year the big toy store in town had a gorgeous dollhouse on display that I wanted more than anything else, and any time I misbehaved even slightly my dad would threaten to tell Santa.”

“Santa?” Yuta asks, lowering his mouth to your shoulder, skin so warm where his cheek touches your neck. “Who is that?”

“A magical myth. He watches all the children of the world,” you explain, “And he brings presents to the good kids and punishes the bad.”

Yuta makes a strange noise, lifting his head again. “So parents tell kids that there are men watching over you? Policing your behavior?”

“Just the one man. Well, Santa has his little elf helpers as well as mall Santas and parents to spy on kids. But it’s all fake. He’s not real, and he’s probably an allegory for God or something. Parents, family, kind-hearted neighbors are really the ones the presents come from.”

Still, when you twist away from Yuta to look at him over your shoulder, his eyebrows are furrowed a little.

“What?” You laugh, lifting a hand to smooth the lines between his eyebrows. Yuta just shakes his head and takes your hand in his, bringing it to his lips. “Are you trying to figure out if you’d be on the naughty or nice list?”

At that, Yuta cracks a smile. “Well that depends, my love. Which list would land me with you as my gift?”

You shriek with laughter as Yuta leans in to attack your throat with kisses, wrapping his arms around your waist to draw your back against his chest again.

Your hand drops to the side, your mug of warm tea falling and cracking, spilling across the balcony floor, completely forgotten as Yuta peels the edges of your fluffy robe away, unwrapping you like his present. He takes his time in kissing your shoulders and your back as every new inch of skin is exposed. The robe slips from your shoulders and down your arms, the chill of the breezy day is irrelevant when all you can feel is Yuta’s lips and his hands as he spreads your legs to brush his fingers between your thighs, all gentle and teasing.

A shiver runs down your spine that has nothing to do with the chill but rather with the way that Yuta’s tongue darts out to trace the shell of your ear, the way his teeth graze your ear lobe. And then there’s his voice as he sinks his touch into your heated core. “I think you’ve landed on the naughty list, if we’re being honest,” Yuta says, his voice low, and he continues, “For numerous reasons. Letting me do this right now. For being here in this city. Mostly for the relationship you have with Ten and I, letting your base urges overwhelm you with lust.”

You can’t argue with that. All you can do is melt into his touch, moaning softly as he thumbs at your clit and slowly strokes two of his fingers inside you.

The robe pools around your waist and Yuta’s lap, leaving your chest fully bared to the hazy orange glow of Hell City.

Never, in your old life, would you have done something like this. Out in the open where anyone in a building across from you could look up or down or directly over and see you like this. But Yuta and Ten have both brought out the side of you that never would have seen the light of day in your old life.

Because never once, when you were still a good Church-going girl, had you ever sat on a balcony getting fingered to orgasm by your partner. Never had you felt the cool lick of wind on your skin while feeling the hot press of a mouth to your throat, fingers sticky with your cum sliding over your belly and up to your tits. Never had you slid off your partner’s lap and knelt naked on the floor of a balcony between his spread legs while he looked down at you in a way that could be described as nothing less than devilishly handsome.

Yuta’s fingers, still damp with your wetness, nudge beneath your chin. His thumb drags at your bottom lip. “Gonna suck me off, pretty girl?”

You don’t nod or answer in any way other than to reach for the zip of Yuta’s pants. He only smiles, eyes burning with satisfaction as you pull his cock out into the daylight. Yuta relaxes back into the chair, watching you as you start working your hand over his length. You know he’s watching, but you’re not looking at his face; you’re too busy focusing on how quickly his cock is filling out in your hand, how the pink tip is already weeping a shiny droplet. And when you can’t take it any longer, you finally lean in and place a kiss to the tip, swiping your tongue along the slit of his cock.

Yuta hums, pleased, his fingers knotting through your hair as you part your lips and take him in.

Losing yourself in the taste of Yuta is always easy. The way that he curls his hands in your hair, the sounds he makes low in his throat, the eager way that Yuta can’t quite keep still and succumbs to the urge to buck his hips off the seat to drive deeper into your throat. You like the way his hips twitch when you kiss down the length of his cock and suck a mark on his inner thigh, or when his hands tug a little too hard at your hair because you’ve just swallowed his cock all the way to the base.

“Oh, my love,” Yuta groans. He traces a thumb around your lips where they’re stretched around his cock. “You’re so pretty like this, just a sweet girl sucking me off. Gonna make me cum too soon, if you’re not careful, and then what satisfaction will you get from all this, hmm?”

You don’t want that. Not right now. Where’s the fun in just letting Yuta cum? You want to feel him inside you, out here in the open on the balcony.

As you pull yourself up and clamber into his lap, Yuta snickers, his nose crinkling up and he wraps his arms around you.

“Needy baby,” he teases.

“You’re needy,” you retort, but your hands are already stroking his cock, you’re already adjusting yourself into his lap to make it easier for you to just sit right on his cock. You slowly sink down, and Yuta’s head rolls back, a lazy grin spreading on his lips as he feels you wet and soft around him. His hands settle on your hips, urging you to move. You press your fingertips against his chest. “See? Needy. Needy for my pussy, Yuta?”

He laughs. “Always.”

Yuta lets you be on top a lot of the time when you’re with him. You think he must just like seeing you at this angle, or maybe it’s that he likes how blissed out you get on taking it at your own pace. Or it could very well be that he just likes how your tits move or feel pressed against his chest when you ride him. Either way, he drags your mouth to his now, content to let you ride him at your own pace.

You’re desperate enough for it that you're moving pretty quickly, bouncing in his lap with your nails clawing at Yuta’s shoulders. His hands slide from your hips up your sides, one rests against your belly, applying a little pressure, and his thumb extends down to leave light, teasing circles on your clit.

“Fuck,” Yuta moans against your lips. “You’re lucky that demon seed takes hold so rarely, with how much Ten and I fuck you, your belly should be swollen by now.” His hand presses a little more intently on your belly.

An unintentional whimper falls from your lips at the thought. It’s like the night you first met WinWin, and Yuta had mentioned werewolves almost always knocking up their partners. In the moment, you’d found that a turn on even though pregnancy was absolutely not something you were necessarily planning on experiencing any time soon. And again, now, as Yuta mentions you with a swollen belly, carrying a demon brood in your womb, you find your pulse quickening, and a new wave of arousal takes over.

“You like that?” Yuta pulls back, and his hand that isn’t against your belly drifts to your chest just long enough to tweak a nipple before his hand is curling at the base of your throat. Loosely at first, but when you slowly open your eyes to meet his gaze, Yuta’s grip squeezes slightly. Another curl of lust in the ever-tightening knot of your arousal. Your heart pounds.

This shouldn’t be something you like this much. But you can’t deny that as Yuta begins to lightly choke you and rub circles on your clit while he talks to you about how fucking pretty you’d look with your belly swollen from he and Ten, you start to fuck yourself on his cock a little more desperately. Just the idea of it is so incredibly hot to you for some inexplicable reason.

His hand curls a little tighter and you lean into it, your hips moving in circles and rocking forward against the sweet friction of Yuta’s thumb on your clit.

“You’re definitely on the naughty list,” Yuta says, pulling your face closer to his by his grip on your neck. His lips meet your ear, voice jaunty as he says, “Gonna cum for me, pretty girl? Cum for me and maybe I’ll just lean you back against that railing there, lift you up so I can clean you up. Or maybe I should let you ride my face,” Yuta says, his hand leaving your throat to snap against your ass. “Bet you’d fucking love that wouldn’t you? Getting to ride my face while I eat you out, licking up all that cum I put in you?”

You moan, your eyes rolling back as you feel your orgasm so close, nearly within reach.

“Next time I share you with Ten,” Yuta says, “I’m gonna sit you on my face and not let you up until you’ve made Ten cum across your perfect lips while you ride my tongue, how’s that sound?”

All you can do is moan and fight the urge to immediately burst into flame.

You’re so fucking close. Your belly is tight, your hips slipping out of rhythm. Your orgasm is just there, right there with your flames itching just barely contained beneath your skin.

“Hello?” A voice suddenly breaks through the pleasure, the sound carrying out through the open doorway of the balcony.

“Shit!” You moan, immediately trying to push yourself free of Yuta’s lap, but he’s holding tight.

You’re only capable of bending down and dragging your robe up from the ground, only just able to pull it back up over you. You manage to cover yourself up just in time to hear footsteps approaching the balcony door.

Yuta laughs, pressing his lips to your shoulder, but still not letting you up.

WinWin appears, peering out the open balcony door, looking first out at the view, and then he spots you sitting to the left of the door. You thank… someone out there (God, maybe?) that the curtains were still mostly drawn over the window, so WinWin hadn’t been able to see the two of you until just now.

“Oh, hey,” he says, offering up a loose, easy grin.

You’re brutally aware of Yuta’s cock inside you. The way you’re sitting isn’t exactly super obvious as to say you’re doing, and especially with the robe covering you up, there’s no way that WinWin can tell. But when you notice his nostrils flare and his gaze narrows slightly, you almost wonder if he somehow does know.

Your pussy pulses anew with that thought.

You drop your head forward against Yuta’s shoulder on the side away from WinWin. The werewolf can’t see the way that you bite down on Yuta's shoulder. As you pray that if he notices the way that you rock your hips, he doesn’t think too much of it.

“Uh, didn’t we have plans today?” WinWin asks.

Shit, that’s right. You forgot you and WinWin were going to a shop a witchy friend of his had mentioned when you were introduced.

You sit up, biting your lip now as you look over at WinWin. “I forgot,” you gasp, and you wonder if you look at all feverish, if the heat in your belly is showing outwardly. The struggle to not openly rock yourself on Yuta’s cock is serious right then. You don’t care that WinWin is looking right at you. You don’t care, not really, but at the same time the thought turns you on more than ever.

WinWin blinks at you, glancing briefly at Yuta. “If you forgot, we can reschedule. Or I could, uh, come back later.”

“No, don’t go!” You involuntarily (to some degree) slip up and roll your hips. Yuta, unhelpfully, still has his thumb on your clit, like a little happy button that makes your insides go a little too fuzzy and your mind all melty.

Yuta’s eyes flash curiously, watching you closely. As if he expects to see you cum for him right then, but you manage to get yourself under control again. Without looking away from you, Yuta addresses the werewolf in the room, “Yeah, stay, WinWin. We’ll be there in a second.”

You know that you’ve got a careful hold on your flames, but still, you feel like you’re burning up right now. As soon as WinWin walks back inside, closing the balcony door hard enough that the whole wall of windows rattles, you move to quickly climb off of Yuta’s lap, but his hands on your hips beneath the robe hold a little tighter, keeping you right where you are, still seated on his cock.

Yuta cocks his head to the side a little. There’s something animalistic in his gaze. “Was it being caught that you liked?” He pinches your clit between his fingers. “Or the one that caught us?”

Not that you have the ability to answer in that second.

Your world explodes in a fantastic burst of colors. A supernova of feelings and fire that flickers around you and off your skin. Your orgasm sears through you, and Yuta urges it on with that finger on your clit and his arm suddenly tight around your waist that he uses to keep you moving on his cock.

You’re still mid-orgasm when Yuta follows. He drags your mouth to his, kissing you passionately through the intense throes of ecstasy.

You long to bask in the afterglow — almost literally, your flames take a little bit to die down — but you know WinWin is waiting. Still. You allow yourself a moment, getting your flames back under control, and you tuck your face into the warm curve between Yuta’s neck and shoulder.

“So,” Yuta says quietly. “It was the fact that WinWin caught us, right?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you mumble, refusing to lift your face from the crook of his neck.

“I think we definitely should.” Yuta combs his fingers through your hair. “After what just happened, and after how into that roleplay we did—“

You lift your head to glare at him. “We don’t talk about that.”

“No, but maybe we should.”

He could be right. But right now? When the man in question is waiting for you inside the apartment, only a few feet away.

“Later,” Yuta says, and he dips in to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Not right now, my love, but later.”

You nod. Later you can talk about it, but for now you have to do a miniature walk of shame through your apartment to the bathroom.

Days later find you gathered in the apartment with your two demons and the other two members of your group. The orange haze of Hell City’s sky has taken on a gray, somewhat faded quality today in addition to the growing chill in the air. But inside the apartment, you’ve manifested a warm, festive atmosphere.

Christmas in Hell City.

Yuta begrudgingly helps you hang Christmas lights around the apartment. Ten delights in helping you hang ornaments on a Christmas tree. Both of them had been surprised when you climbed out of bed earlier and began manifesting a whole variety of Christmas items, declaring that Mark and WinWin were coming over this evening and you were celebrating Christmas all together like a little family. You do your best to recreate the Christmassy festive atmosphere that you remember from childhood, complete with unmelting snow that you manifest to cover your balcony.

“Snow?” Ten asks when he sees it appearing in fluffy white mounds outside the windows. “You’re manifesting snow right now?”

Yuta folds his arms across his chest, stepping down from the ladder he’d been on to hang the lights around the room. He steps up beside Ten to look out at the snow too. You wonder if this city ever sees weather like this. If there’s ever rain or snow or sleet or ice, incredibly windy days, or hot days of summer when the heat just sits as thick and humid. Judging by the way both of them are looking out at the snow, you think they probably don’t get to see much of the weather.

“For me, Christmas needs snow.” You go back to hanging ornaments on the tree. “And besides, when I was talking to Mark about Christmas, he told me he wants to build a snowman. We have to have snow for that.”

Mark had seemed excited to celebrate Christmas when you first brought it up to him the previous day.

Recently, you’d been spending more time with him, trying to avoid both of the demons and the conversation that they clearly wanted to have that you absolutely did not want to have right now. At some point after WinWin walked out onto the balcony while you and Yuta were having sex, Yuta had talked to Ten, telling him about the way you’d reacted. You hadn’t taken part in that conversation, but it was very obvious to you that it had happened. You didn’t want to know how it had gone.

You’d decided that even though WinWin had admitted his feelings to you, you were happy with your present situation. Two partners was already enough for you. On top of that, Ten was incredibly jealous, and Yuta was also known to display jealousies from time to time. So no matter how that conversation between them went, you didn’t care what the result was. Yes, you still found WinWin attractive, and, yes, there were still snippets of dreams featuring him. But you weren’t going to act on it, so it didn’t matter what they thought. Still, you didn’t want to have that talk.

Mark had been plenty happy to accept your company. Hanging out with him meant that you were there for boring coven meetings, but also for more interesting things like hanging out with the other vampires in his coven or when you’d gone up to the brunch spot that Mark ran – Heaven’s Nest – and gotten drunk together. That’s when the invitation to Christmas had come spilling out, the idea born up there among the hazy clouds of Hell City between Bloody Sunrises and unbloody mimosas.

“Maybe he should be here helping set up,” Yuta says, turning away from the snow. “Or he can clean up. When is he going to be here?” He eyes all the lights and other decorations you’ve put up over the last few hours.

“And when is WinWin coming over?” Ten asks, his voice suddenly stilted, not looking at you.

You hang the last ornament on the tree, and with a meager amount of concentration, you manifest fully wrapped presents beneath the tree for each of them. “Soon. They should both be here soon. I promised dinner, so we should probably start working on that too.”

You’ve done your best to keep both of them preoccupied, too busy to even attempt to broach the subject of your obvious physical reaction to WinWin catching you with Yuta. But as you attempt to walk by Yuta to reach the kitchen, his hand shoots out, taking your arm. His touch is gentle, but still you stop and turn to look at him.

“Dinner can just be manifested. You don’t have to actually cook.” His gaze drops briefly to your lips, and you watch the way that Yuta’s throat bobs. “Then we can talk before they show up. All three of us need to talk.”

You pull away from Yuta. “I don’t think we really do need to talk.”

Ten sighs from somewhere behind you. “Don’t be difficult, darling.”

“Can’t you tell that I really don’t want to talk about whatever.” You hurry over to the kitchen, but both of the demons possess a speed that you don’t, and they both somehow beat you there. Ten wraps you in the cage of his arms, a cheeky smile appearing when you hiss a curse at him, but he only holds you tighter. “Let me go.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” Ten’s fingers curl around your wrists, pinning them both to your lower back. “See, when I’ve got you like this, you’re not going anywhere. You have to listen to us talk.” Yuta stands shoulder-to-shoulder with Ten, and you hate the presented front of solidarity and determination to have this conversation.

Fate, it seems, is on your side.

There’s a knock on the door of the apartment, and a moment later, it opens to allow in Mark and WinWin together. Both the vampire and the werewolf stare unblinking at the position you’re in. Yuta steps away, but Ten doesn’t let go, he doesn’t look away from you.

He holds your gaze, and in a low voice that borders on sexy and threatening, he says, “Either you can vow that we’ll talk later after they’re gone, or we can have this conversation right now with both of them listening. And I don’t think you want that, do you?”

You squirm. There’s no way out of this. “I promise we’ll talk later after they leave.”

Ten smiles and says, “Perfect.”

As soon as he loosens his arms from around you, Ten gently brings your arms around front, and he lifts your wrists to his lips. “Look, I’m sorry about that.” His lips are warm and tender on your wrists that still feel his fingers like shackles around them. “But I think it’s important, and you avoiding it isn’t going to make the need to talk go away.”

“I know.” Because, as much as you don’t want to talk, you know that it’s important. You need to make it clear to both of them that you don’t have any intention of allowing anything to happen with WinWin. You need to give them the chance to communicate to you what they think about it.

You lean in, looping your arms over Ten’s shoulders, pecking him quickly on the lips. “Let’s get to Christmas.”

Mark and WinWin ignore the odd mood they walked into.

Mark brought presents, and he adds those to the ones you’ve got beneath the tree already. WinWin didn’t realize presents were a thing to be brought to Christmas, which begins a conversation about how neither he nor the demons have any experience with Christmas. But you and Mark, who lived human lives in the human world before coming here, had that experience.

You all sit around the table first, enjoying the quickly manifested dinner. After that is you and Mark getting everyone out onto the small balcony to make snowmen, which just turns into a snowball fight when Ten lobs a densely packed snowball right at WinWin’s face.

For a brief moment you think you’re about to witness WinWin transform for the first time, based on the pure look of annoyance he sends Ten, but Ten is shooting daggers right back at him.

Unfortunately for WinWin, he doesn’t know why Ten is glaring at him so harshly. You hope he doesn’t notice that throughout the rest of the Christmas celebration, Ten and Yuta both watch him closely, particularly any time that he’s looking at or talking with you.

You think both Ten and Yuta are about to burst out of their skins or explode into flame when WinWin pulls you in for a hug after he opens the gift from you. But WinWin probably notices because he holds onto you a little bit longer than actually necessary, and after you pull away, he does wink at you and tell you he’ll give you a present another time.

Mark is potentially oblivious to all of that going on, just happy to be celebrating and spending time with all four of you. He’s excited to have you all open presents from him, which he proudly declares, “I bought them myself. They’re not just, like, manifested. Not that there’s anything wrong with that! But open them!”

You play games together, you eat some more. Mark bursts out into Christmas carols after a while. You turn on Christmas movies to play in the background, and all five of you just sit around and talk for a long time until Mark suddenly remembers his obligation to get to one of his coven’s ventures underground. WinWin makes an excuse to leave too, though you suspect it's just that he doesn’t want to be alone with you, Yuta, and Ten.

But once he’s gone, now it’s your turn to face them.

You still really don’t want to talk about it.

For a little while at least, the subject remains avoided.

The three of you clean up the mess of dinner and of unwrapping presents and the last remnants of the unmelting snow that had been tracked inside. Then the curtains are drawn over the balcony to make it darker inside the room, left illuminated at this point only by the TV which is stuck playing the menu screen of an old Christmas movie DVD. Ten sits down on one end of the sofa, Yuta takes the other end, and after a moment of dithering, you settle down in between them.

Ten fidgets with the remote for a moment. Switching through the different options on the DVD menu, changing the language of the movie’s audio. He skips through the different scenes, finally settling on one a quarter of the way into the movie, selecting it to start playing from there. The only thing is that the volume is so quiet, you can barely hear it and he put it in a language that you don’t know.

Yuta clears his throat.

“So are we going to talk about it now?”

Ten straightens up in his seat and turns sideways, drawing his feet onto the cushion and his knees up to his chest. “Yes. Let’s talk about how you want WinWin to fuck you.”

“Oh my God,” you groan, dropping your face into your hands. “I would like to point out that I haven’t said that.”

“But you haven’t not said it,” Ten argues back.

“Do I have to tell you every person that I don’t want to fuck Ten?” You fold your arms across your chest to stare at him. “Because we’ll be here for a very, very long time if that’s the case.”

Ten rolls his eyes, and you look over at Yuta who just sighs. “Ten, you said you were going to be mature and open-minded about this conversation. Remember?” After a moment with no response, Yuta prods again, “Remember?”

“Yeah.” Ten grunts. “I remember.”

“My love,” Yuta says as he takes your hand. “How do you feel?”

You squirm, uncomfortable. Emotions aren’t really all that big of a subject of conversation between the three of you. Especially not with both of them only focusing on you and your answer. Yuta continues to hold your hand, and Ten stretches one of his feet over the few inches between you and him to just have the small point of contact where his toes curl against the side of your leg.

“I’m not a cheater,” are the first words you manage after a few quiet moments. “I’m, like, attracted to him, but the same is true with Mark, if we’re being honest. WinWin, Mark, Hansol from back home.” Ten all but growls, and when you look at him his eyes are narrowed yellow cat eyes. You continue regardless, “There are a lot of people I think are attractive in this place; you’ve all got this supernatural beauty that makes you very attractive. But I don’t feel the same about any of them as I do with you two. So I don’t get why you’re so jealous about it, Ten, or why you think we need to talk about it so much, Yuta. I’m only doing this with you two, which already is a stretch from normal for me. But being with you two together has been this way from the start, sharing everything between you two. I’m not just going to bring someone else into this, especially not someone that you clearly don’t like, Ten.”

“It’s not that I don’t like him,” Trn quickly clarifies. “WinWin is nice. He’s good. But he’s been trying to fuck you since you first met him, and he’s a werewolf.”

“And you’re a demon! Get over your prejudices, dumb ass.” You push off the sofa, standing and turning to look at the two of them. Yuta watches you calmly, curious. Ten’s eyes are hot, his jaw clenched. “I don’t care that he’s a werewolf. I don’t care that you two are demons or that Mark’s a vampire or that anyone I’ve met here in Hell City is something that a few short months ago I never would have believed existed. I got over all of my deeply ingrained prejudices, so when will you?

“And, about how he’s wanted to fuck me from the start? I will admit to you that I’ve thought about him many times since the night I first met him. When I was back in my hometown, all I did was dream about the two of you, him, and even Mark.” You’ll admit that now, in the sake of full honesty. “I dreamed of having sex with all of you, and even when I was fucking Hansol —“ Now both of them bare their teeth in disgusted anger. “—Even then I thought of the four of you. I can’t help who I’m attracted to. I can’t help it that when he walked out there and caught me and Yuta together, I found it hot. But I’m not just going to go fuck WinWin behind your back, so stop being a jealous dick about it!”

“Where are you going?” Ten calls from the sofa.

“Out!” Shoes manifest right onto your feet, a jacket onto your shoulders. The apartment door slams shut behind you

You’re at the lift, jamming your finger against the button when you hear the door open and close behind you. And then Yuta’s soft, careful voice. “Can I come with you?”

“No. I want to be alone.” You jab your finger against the button and hold it there, as if that’s going to make the rickety lift rise any faster. You can hear its rattles echoing up through the floors beneath you now. “Just let me be alone, Yuta. Please.”

“You know I don’t mind, right?” He says to fill the silence while he waits with you. “About WinWin? Like, the roleplay, which, I know, we don’t talk about, but let’s just pretend for a moment that we do talk about it.” You glance sidelong at him, and he cracks a grin. “I’m open to anything. I’ve shared you with Ten, I’ve fucked you while wearing the look of a different man. Pretty girl, you’re the best thing that’s happened to Ten and I in a long time. I’m not going to let something little like this mess that up. But Ten, he’s scared, not that he’ll let you see it. Scared that you’ll disappear, so he holds on tighter, scared to let you go for fear that you won’t come back.”

As the lift finally comes rattling and shaking to a stop in front of you, you look over at Yuta. “Well, he can’t hold on too tightly. I’ll suffocate.”

Yuta nods. “I know.”

“Talk to him.” You say as you step inside and reach for the sliding gate. “I feel like he’ll listen to you if you just explain to him that I’m here for both of you. I came here with you and because of you, I stayed for you when WinWin made me want to leave, and the intensity of my feelings for just you and him are what scared me away. But I came back for him, for you. I only wanted you two, and I made him promise when we were waiting for you to come back and save the day that he wouldn’t leave me alone. Does he think I’ve said anything like that to WinWin or anyone else? I’m here for you two. I love you two.”

The words feel electric on your tongue. Your heart beats double time. You’ve never said that before. Those three words. Not to Ten, not to Yuta. And you can see from the slowly growing smile and the light in his eyes, that Yuta is surprised and excited to hear them from you.

Before anything more can be said, the lift is moving, dropping you a lot faster than it had risen. But when you look up, you can see through the ceiling of this contraption Yuta leaning out into the shaft, watching you go.

You love them.

Both of them.

Once you’re out in the street you’re not entirely sure where to go. You don’t want to go to the underground. You’re not feeling particularly social at the moment. You just needed to be away from all that going on up there.

If you look up at your building, if you squint and look really hard, you think you can see which balcony is yours. You can see the fake snow piled on it, and even a few large icicles dripping over the edge of it. Maybe it’s wishful thinking or delusion, but you might even see Ten up there leaning against the railing to look down.

You walk away. Not toward the city center, and not toward the entrance to the underground city. You wander wherever your feet take you.

You haven’t wandered the streets of Hell City alone very often. Only on a few rare occasions, usually when you were meeting either of the demons or Mark or WinWin somewhere else. But right now, there’s no destination, there’s no one waiting for you anywhere except right back there in the apartment.

You sigh.

You love Ten. So much that it makes your heart ache. But he can be so… annoying, for lack of a better word. His jealousy when all you’ve done is shown him and Yuta affection and love. When you’ve opened yourself up with him and drawn a bond between you that you’ve never had with anyone else, not even Yuta, if you’re being honest. How can he not see it?

You hope Yuta’s talking to him, trying to help him see the light of reason.

As you walk down the streets, passing storefronts and restaurants, passing clusters of supernatural creatures who choose to spend their time above ground rather than below, you just think. You barely register your surroundings, which leads to you nearly trampling over a young Nagi that slithers across your path.

After a little while though you finally come to a quiet square in the northern part of the city. It reminds you of the section of your hometown that’s been around since the 1800s with narrow cobbled streets and gas lamps. The fog that has settled over this part of the city helps give it a timeless kind of vibe, muting even the usual orange out of the sky. A fountain sits in the middle of the square, crowned by a statue swathed in the dense fog.

You wander toward the fountain, looking around at this quiet little pocket of the city. The buildings lining the square look old too, and light glows through their square windows. One door opens and shuts, letting out a beam of light that gets muddled through the fog. You sit on the edge of the fountain, and you just breathe, feeling a knot loosen in your chest.

The fountain trickles and tinkles behind you, small ripples moving across the dark surface of the pool at its base. You trail your fingers across the surface, catching a glimpse of coins sparkling on the bottom. A wishing fountain.

“I wish that we could all just get along,” you murmur. But you don’t have a coin on you to drop in, and you’ve never believed in wishing fountains anyway. Even now they don’t seem plausible.

Footsteps echo across the foggy square, and you lift your head to look around. Someone carrying a lantern passes at the far end of the square, slipping back through the door someone had exited through earlier.

You feel a sudden chill.

This square is very quiet. The fog gives it an ominous feeling. And the fountain water, you suddenly realize, is bitterly cold and strange, freezing your fingertips and almost sucking at them, magnetically drawing you to sink the rest of your hand in.

You stand, shaking your hand and then attempting to dry it on your coat.

You no longer want to be by yourself.

Pacing back through the streets, you hope you can find your way home. You’ve never been on these streets this far north by yourself before, and they’re winding and narrow, getting you all turned around, and the fog doesn’t help. It blocks the view of the tall buildings closer to downtown, making it even more difficult to navigate.

And maybe it’s the fog, maybe it’s the way that you’ve never seen Hell City in such a dim, blurry way, but there’s a lurch of panic in your belly. A sense of urgency to get back home to your apartment. The oddest feeling like you’re being watched.

The logical, unpanicked side of you tells you that it’s probably Yuta. He probably disregarded your request to leave you alone, and he’s probably been following you to keep an eye on you. Or you could just be imagining the feeling of eyes on you, the sense that there’s someone prowling through the fog behind you.

You’re not running, but your heart is racing and you’re walking more quickly than normal.

The winding streets finally spit you out onto a main street, wide and open, populated. There is still a gray fog hovering over the street, but you disregard it as you hurry along the sidewalk, brushing by a variety of Hell City’s citizens. There’s still the lingering feeling of being watched, and it grows more intense to the point where your breath is coming fast and your spine feels stiff, panic knotting your muscles and making your mind swirl as you look for the offshoring street that will lead you back to your apartment.

In your semi-blind panic, you run headlong into someone.

“I’m so sorry!” You apologize, turning quickly to look behind you.

There are plenty of people milling along the sidewalk. None look particularly like they’re watching or following you. No one looks suspicious at all really.

“Are you okay?”

There’s a hand on your shoulder, a familiar voice ringing in your ears.

WinWin.

You twist around to face him.

“Where were you running to?” WinWin asks, glancing behind you too. “Or what were you running away from? Are you hurt?”

There’s a damp spot on the front of his shirt, and when WinWin lifts his hand from your shoulder to your cheek, you realize you’ve been crying.

You take a step back, wiping at your cheeks.

“Where are Ten and Yuta?” WinWin asks, and he reaches again for you, but he draws his hand back when you lean away. “Did something happen?”

“We argued a little bit after you and Mark left. I wanted to get out of the apartment, so I was wandering around. I just… got a little lost and freaked myself out a bit.” You suck in a deep breath, trying to steady the shaky beating of your heart. “Thought someone was following me.”

WinWin’s eyes narrow, nostrils flaring, and he lifts his gaze from your face to scan the city street behind you. “I can walk you home. Would that be okay?”

You want to say yes and you want to say no. Yes, it would make you feel better. No, because imagine if after fighting with Ten about WinWin, you show back up at the apartment accompanied or at least smelling like WinWin. That will solve nothing. Plus, a slightly paranoid voice in the back of your mind whispers how strange it is that you bumped into WinWin like this, that he appeared right as you felt the intensity of being watched was at its highest. Maybe it’s nothing. Probably it’s nothing, just a coincidence, but you shouldn’t be around him right now anyway.

“No.” You shake your head, taking a wide step around WinWin. “I know the way from here.”

He sighs, a little defeated, then says, “Plus, Ten would be jealous, right?”

You freeze.

“I’m not blind. I know he’s jealous. I saw the way he was with me all day. Yuta’s only slightly better. Did you tell them how I feel about you?” He asks, and he keeps that distance of a couple feet between you, which you’re grateful for. “Is that why I suddenly feel like I’m getting the cold shoulder? I’m not, like, gonna make a move on you, if that’s what you or they are worried about. I respect them. I respect you. I’m not just a fucking dog.” He runs a hand down the side of his face, then looks around the street. “I know you’re with them, and I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize your relationship or your happiness with them.”

“I’ll make sure they know that,” you say softly. “I’ll see you around, WinWin. But I’d better get home.”

“Be safe.”

Five minutes later, you’re riding the lift up through your building. The lingering feeling of being watched had continued up until you reached your building, and you settle on the idea that it’s a combination of paranoia brought on by the fog and of WinWin probably kindly trailing you to make sure you made it home safely.

Yuta and Ten are still sitting on the sofa, facing each other and speaking in low voices when you step inside. They break off as you walk over, and Ten makes a small sound of surprise when you just clamber into his lap, and wrap your arms around him.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, tucking your face against his shoulder.

Ten holds you just as tightly, pressing his nose into your hair. “I’m sorry, darling. I am a jealous ass, and I’m going to do my best to let it go. I trust you. It’s him I don’t trust, but, Yuta and I have talked about a lot while you were gone. I’m working on it.”

You can accept that.

“Aw,” Yuta coos, getting up on his knees to come closer and wrap both of you in a hug, his chin resting atop Ten’s head as he says, “Look at all of us getting along.”

The cool bite beginning to take up residence in the air outside grows over the next week or so. It feels more like the memory of cold than the actual feeling of it, but it’s undeniable. Like winter is truly setting in.

The thaw between Ten and WinWin has however begun to take effect.

More and more over the last week, your little family has been spending time together in your apartment. This has given Ten and WinWin plenty of time to warm up to each other, and although it’s only been a few days, you would definitely say that they appear more friendly now than they have in weeks. It could be the semi-forced proximity, but you choose to think that it’s actual progress.

The unnatural cold of Hell City has driven many of the citizens underground, increasing Mark’s profits for his various businesses, including a hot spring where he’d met up with you, Yuta, and Ten yesterday. But today he’s shirking his responsibilities as coven leader and mogul of Hell City, and he (along with WinWin) are here in your apartment to relax.

“I’m cold.” You complain as you wrap yourself in a blanket and settle onto your sofa. “It’s a good thing, you guys run so warm.”

Ten opens his arms for you to snuggle into, letting you sink in and make yourself comfortable against his chest. Ten, in turn, wraps himself around you, blanketing you in his heat. He waits until you’re settled, and then says, “Maybe if you were wearing more clothes, you wouldn’t be so cold.”

You’re dressed comfortably. Maybe it’s not entirely appropriate wear for when you have guests over, but an oversized shirt and your panties and some fuzzy socks are just what you’d put on when you emerged from a nice, steamy shower earlier. It’s not your fault that guests showed up afterwards.

Ten’s hand dips beneath your blanket to run his hand up your bare thigh.

Mark watches from the other end of the sofa, his gaze torn away from the game he, Yuta, and WinWin had been playing. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, and before you can get a good read on it (or make an attempt to read his thoughts, because as it turns out, that is a demon trick you’ve been receiving lessons on for the week), Mark clears his throat.

“I wish I ran warm.” His gaze darts over the points of contact Ten has with you. “Being undead really fucking sucks sometimes.”

WinWin makes a sound of disagreement from where he’s stretched out on his belly on the floor, his chin resting on his hands. “I run way too hot sometimes. Like, right now, I’m burning up.”

He is. You can see from here the way his hairline has dampened to his skin. He’s sweating.

“Are you okay?” You ask, sitting up a little bit, though Ten keeps his arms locked around your hips. “Not sick, right?”

“Wolves don’t get sick,” Yuta explains, studying the game in front of him.

WinWin shakes his head. “I’m fine. I, just, uh, think my rut is coming up.” His face colors slightly, and he looks down at the floor, refusing to look up when the others start teasing him.

You retreat to your spot leaning against Ten’s chest.

His rut? You read about it in the supernatural encyclopedia. Much like actual wolves and other wildlife, werewolves experience heats and ruts—the overwhelming urge to breed or be bred. For WinWin, as a male, his will be the urge to breed, endlessly horny for anywhere from hours to days, needing to cum as many times as possible.

You don’t even realize how deep into your thoughts about it you’ve sunk until Ten brushes a finger over your cheek.

“Well, you’re certainly warm now, darling.” Ten teases, “What are you thinking about?”

You can’t tell him you’re thinking about WinWin, picturing him looking the same as Yuta-as-WinWin had looked when he orgasmed during your shape-shifting roleplay. As far as you’re aware, Ten still doesn’t know about that. Yuta has kept it just a secret between you and him. You can’t admit aloud to the room that that was a roleplay you and Yuta engaged in, and especially you won’t tell them that you’re growing aroused right now just thinking of it.

It’s like the night you met WinWin, the night Yuta claimed wolves only want to breed and knock up women with a whole litter of wolf pups. It had turned you on a little back then, it had turned you on the other day when Yuta mentioned it while you were riding him, but now the thought of it is working you up even more. Your imagination is moving into hyperdrive, steering you right into the depths of a fantasy involving WinWin fucking you six ways from Sunday, in every possible position and configuration until you’re both exhausted and his rut has ended.

But you definitely don’t say any of that.

“Nothing.” You brush Ten’s hand away, and you sit up. “I’m just getting warm, that's all.”

You move away from Ten, kicking off your blanket, and avoiding looking down at WinWin. But as the blanket falls to the floor beside WinWin’s head, as you drop your feet to the floor as well, WinWin’s head shoots up from where he’s been resting.

He looks right at you. He cocks his head to the side.

Everyone notices at once that WinWin’s eyes are changing fast from his human-brown to the wolf-yellow.

“Fuck,” WinWin growls, squeezing his eyes shut and dropping his head back to his hands. You watch as he bites at the back of his hand for a moment before he’s pushing up to his knees, struggling to his feet. “I need to leave.”

When he gets to his feet, when you see the prominent bulge of his erection in the front of his pants, you feel another surge of arousal.

“What? Now?” Ten teases. “Dude, I thought you just said your rut was soon, not like right now. How’re you gonna come over here knowing that you’re about to need to lock yourself away, horny doggy?”

WinWin growls, the sound a genuinely animalistic sound. “It triggered early. It’s not my fault.”

“Triggered early?” Ten continues to tease. “How does that happen?”

WinWin prowls forward until he’s standing right in front of you and Ten. “It happens because your girlfriend is turned on right now, and I can smell her like she’s the wettest, most breedable bitch in a ten mile radius.”

You squeeze your legs together and try not to whimper. This. This is exactly what you’ve been trying to avoid.

On the floor, Yuta leans back on his hands, looking up at the drama, an amused look on his face.

“Horny, baby girl?” Yuta calls. “Thinking about WinWin? About how good he could knot you and breed you? I know you’re into that.”

Your face feels hot, being called out like that. You glance at Ten to see him watching you, looking curious. You bite your lip, unable to deny Yuta’s accusatory question because you’re actually dripping wet right now. It’s come over you so quickly, getting worse the longer WinWin stands here right in front of you.

“Ten?” Your voice is a whimper, and you can’t help it.

“Yes, darling?”

You search his face for any of those tell-tale signs of his jealousy. You’re relieved to find, miraculously, none.

And then WinWin touches his fingers beneath your chin, tipping your head so he can see your face.

“Are you actually into that? Being knotted and bred?” WinWin teases you.

Mark scrambles from his spot on the end of the sofa. “I’m gonna go ahead and leave, whatever’s happening here.”

“What, you don’t want to stay and watch? His wolf rut pheromones are gonna put all of us in the mood!” Ten jokes as Mark all but flies from the apartment, calling out his goodbyes over his shoulder. As the apartment door slams shut behind Mark’s fleeing back, Ten laughs. “He really needs to get laid; it’s not good to keep it all pent up like this.”

WinWin’s still holding your chin, his thumb sweeping over your bottom lip. “I’m sorry. If I’d known it was going to trigger, I wouldn’t have come over. Ten’s right. My pheromones are what’s probably hitting you so hard right now.”

Is it? You had aroused yourself with the fantasies that came to mind as soon as his rut was mentioned. But you have to admit that the way your body is reacting right now, how hot and wet you suddenly feel, that is out of the ordinary. Could it be that WinWin is putting off some wolfy rut scent that is affecting you?

“I can still leave. I’ll hurry home and just get myself off until my rut ends.” But all you hear is the unspoken question: “Do you want me?”

You can’t see either Ten or Yuta right now. All of your focus is on WinWin, the intoxicating heat of his skin against yours, the slick feeling growing between your legs. But Ten reaches over, touching your hand.

“Do you want to help WinWin through his rut?” Ten asks, and he’s taking a softer tone with you, no longer joking about this whole situation.

Is he actually asking, like offering it as an actual option to you? Because there’s no question in your mind right now that it’s what you want. Helping WinWin through his rut seems like the only thing you can possibly do right now in this sudden lust-drunk state you’re sinking into.

You nod. “I really, really do. Please don’t be angry, Ten.”

You feel guilty even saying it aloud. After all the progress of the last week, after the fight just before that, all of you and Yuta’s reassurances. And this is happening so quickly too. Just minutes ago everything was perfectly normal. Now the careful walls of restraint you’ve built are crumbling.

You search Ten’s eyes again for any sign of anger.

“He’s not angry, my love,” Yuta speaks up from his spot on the floor. “We discussed it. He’s just not used to sharing, but we can get used to it. Play nice with our friends and you. If he can share you with me, he can share you with WinWin, if that’s what you want.”

“I do want it,” you all but moan.

You feel Ten pull himself off the sofa. “We’ll leave you to it, darling.”

“Are you sure about this?” WinWin asks. You’re not sure if he’s asking you or Ten. He flicks his gaze quickly towards Ten, back towards Yuta, and then he’s looking right at you again.

He’s still got you by the chin, and you’re enchanted by the light in his eyes, prisoner to the hunger he’s awakened in you. “I want it, WinWin.”

He nods and swallows, and you can see the way he’s controlling himself, holding back. His nose flares as he breathes you in again, tipping his face down towards you, losing his control bit by bit as more of your scent invades his senses.

You can feel Yuta and Ten watching, but the hunger inside you reaches out for WinWin, pushing away all thoughts of anything but consuming him.

At the same moment as you lurch forward, WinWin makes his final move.

WinWin’s kiss is absolutely intoxicating, overwhelming, all-encompassing. The heat of his skin against yours, the unidentifiable scent radiating from him that just makes you want to pull him in closer and closer.

So that’s what you do.

The moment that his tongue touches yours, you feel a new heat pouring through you, and you need him now.

It’s all-consuming, deeper than just hunger or lust. This is an innate need that pulls you into WinWin, that draws his hands down to your bare thighs, pressing up beneath your shirt to your panties. It’s like he simply shreds them away; fingers catch at the sides of your panties and then the fabric falls away, exposing your pussy to the cool air.

“Uh, yeah, we’re leaving,” Ten says. “If you need anything, just shout!”

The part of you that isn’t totally drowning in wolf rut (or this strange heat that’s come over you even though you’re not a werewolf), wants to ask Ten to stay. Yo I want to cling to him and let him feel involved in this so he doesn’t return to his all-consuming jealousy knowing that you’re doing exactly what you’d just told him you wouldn’t last week.

But you can’t help it. Right now, the hunger you feel for WinWin is unchecked, running rampant through you as you cling to him and kiss him deeper.

“We’ll check in on you later, my love,” Yuta sounds intensely amused as you and WinWin draw each other closer, as he climbs over you on the sofa and hikes your legs around his hips. “You need to stay hydrated, don’t forget that!”

They keep talking, you think, but you’re not even listening because at that moment, WinWin reaches down and unfastens the front of his pants. You feel the heat and the presence of his cock as soon as he releases it from his pants. You haven’t broken away from kissing WinWin yet, so you can’t see his cock, but you have a feeling that the version of it that Yuta wore when you roleplayed with him wasn’t quite a life-size representation.

WinWin feels big. Girthy, heavy, long. And when he pulls back from you, you finally get a glimpse of his dick.

“Oh my God,” you giggle. Hands over your mouth, full-on let out a little giggle.

WinWin growls a little, his hands on your legs, pushing them up, folding your body in half until your knees are up at your shoulders. “What’s so funny?”

You shake your head. “Not funny. Your dick is just really big.”

The kind of big that makes you feel like it should be impossible for your body to take it, but not quite as impossible as Yuta’s version. But your body also feels ready for him. Wet enough, loose enough, like just the pheromones he’s putting off have done enough to prepare you for him. You don’t know how to explain the feeling going on inside you right now, like something’s been triggered in you in response to him.

Another giggle forces its way out.

To put it mildly, WinWin’s cock looks to be the width of your forearm. Wide enough around that your thumb and middle finger would only just barely miss touching each other if you tried to circle your hand around him. Long enough that you’re halfway expecting him to be hitting your cervix with each thrust. But he’s wet at the tip, a few prominent veins pulse along his length, and despite the rational part of your brain telling you that his cock is too fucking big, you want him inside you this moment.

There’s no holding back.

You don’t want him to hold back, the way that your body craves right now nothing more than WinWin fucking you as fast and deep and hard as possible, cumming inside you like you’re his own personal cumdump.

And you can tell that the last vestiges of WinWin’s control are slipping away, the animalistic urges taking over. His fingernails bite at your thighs, and he moves back over you, sinking his thick cock smoothly into your ready pussy.

There’s no intimacy or passion to this. It’s nothing more than hungry fucking, taking cock and feeling like he’s fucking the very breath from your lungs. You can’t catch your breath to moan. You can feel him in your belly. It’s all just a blur of lust and hungrily getting fucked, sucking in the pleasure as WinWin fucks you to cum.

He fucks you there on your back on the sofa, cumming inside you while you’re still folded up like a pretzel beneath him. He doesn’t pull out, but immediately picks up fucking you again, pulling you on top of him as he leans back. This time he pulls an orgasm from you, and he cums again before turning you around, bending you against the back of the sofa, fucking you so intensely still that you’re sweating–your bodies still together with the sweat and the stickiness of his semen leaking down your thighs.

When you begin to slide over the back of the sofa from the force of his thrusts, WinWin holds tightly to your hips, repositioning you facedown on the sofa, holding your hips up at the perfect angle for him to thrust into. Again, he cums, stuffing you so full, and still you crave more from him.

WinWin pants and moans against your shoulder, shallowly thrusting, rivulets of his cum leak down your thighs onto the sofa.

“Fuck,” WinWin groans, his teeth grazing your shoulder. He’s still pressing into you, still hard and feeding into your own endless lust. “I’m sorry, I’m still….”

You roll your hips back, silently hoping he’ll stay inside you, that he’ll plant himself so deep inside you that you won’t feel empty for a week. And you know what he needs too, what he’s not asking you for, what he keeps denying himself.

“Just knot me,” you cry out, “You’re just letting it all leak out, WinWin.”

He pauses then, as if caught off guard by your request. He actually pulls back out of you, and you cry, trying to lift your hips and clench your pussy tight enough to hold his cum inside you. As WinWin sits back, his cock still heavy and standing tall, he stares at you. “I can’t knot you.”

But as you look back at him, you can see that he absolutely can knot you. He just doesn’t want to.

You can see his knot swelling toward the base of his cock. This was what you’d read about in that book, learning about knotting right there alongside learning about werewolf ruts and heats. There’d been a diagram. And now you see it in front of your eyes: the swelling shape toward the base of his cock that would plug you up nicely and keep his cum inside you.

WinWin shakes his head. “I can’t do it. You’re human, you’re not a werewolf. You’re not made to take knots, princess.”

“But I’m not just human either!” You whine, again shifting around trying to keep your hips elevated to keep his multiple loads of cum from leaking out of you, which leads to you looking back at him from under your arm. A very odd angle.

“You’re basically human,” WinWin argues, his hand drifting down to massage his knot. “Yuta and Ten would probably actually kill me if I hurt you in any way, and I’m afraid that knotting you would just split you open.”

That’s a violent image, but you quickly brush it away. “I burst into flames when I have sex with them, I don’t think that’s something humans do. I can take it, WinWin. I know I can. I want it. You’ve got me all horny and feeling breedable, so I need you to knot me and stop wasting all this cum. Isn’t the whole point of your rut to cum in me, to breed me and knot me as many times as possible? I’m pretty sure I read that if you don’t knot a partner, your rut can—“

“Alright, shit, if I knot you will you stop talking?” WinWin moves quickly, suddenly fitting his cock back inside you. “God, dammit, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me. I promise.”

You’ve been practicing your shapeshifting with Yuta. You’ve altered your appearance some, but as it turns out, the whole thing about perfectly mimicking others isn’t something that’s within your wheelhouse. But you’ve successfully made small adjustments to your appearance. Just a day or two ago you were messing around with shape-shifting while Ten and Yuta briefly had to go take care of some demon business, and when they returned they discovered you’d turned your nose into a miniature version of an elephant trunk, and you couldn’t turn it back without their help.

You have an idea that maybe if your body can’t really take WinWin’s knot you can just alter your shape enough to make it a little more comfortable, making it so you don’t cause any damage to your person.

“Take me to the bed,” you moan as WinWin pushes in deeper, his hands firmly at your hips.you feel the swell of his knot against you, and your belly leaps at the thought of him forcing it into you. “If you’re gonna knot me, do it there at least.”

“You’re bossy,” he teases, but he pulls away again, lifting you into his arms, and you happily let him manhandle you. WinWin tucks his face into the crook of your neck, and he breathes in, inhaling your scent. “Smell so good, sweet.”

His cock rubs against you with each step he takes, and no sooner has he dropped you onto the bed than he’s stuffing his cock back inside your waiting pussy. All his previous cum as well as your body’s overwhelming reaction to his rut makes it more than easy for WinWin to enter you again.

Again, he folds your knees up to your shoulders, his body pressing you in two, but it allows him to sink deeper, and your body accommodates. Although, even with you making your slight shape-shifting alterations to yourself, WinWin’s big cock is a tight fit.

His hands drift to your tits, cupping them, palming them, pinching at your nipples.

“God, your boobs would look so amazing if you were carrying my babies,” WinWin moans, “Heavy with milk, your nipples so sensitive.”

You barely even have to think about it; the part of your mind that’s grown used to accessing your shapeshifting abilities moves to make WinWin’s fantasy a reality. Your tits swell in his hands, growing heavier, the nipples gently swollen. There’s nothing you can do to lactate, but this seems to be enough for him.

His knot slaps against your pussy with each of WinWin’s deep thrusts, and you want to reach down, slip your fingers inside yourself along with his cock to show him that you can take his knot. How badly you need it, how it’s more than just a want now.

“Give it to me,” you beg. “Please, I need to feel you, WinWin.”

He swears under his breath, his eyes flashing a dangerous shade of amber gold.

You brace yourself for how it’s going to feel, doing your best to relax to let him in as WinWin thrusts in deep and then grinds forward even more, pressing in and circling his hips, trying to work the bulge of his knot through your entrance.

There’s a stretch, a burn, a breathless feeling that speaks to the fire inside you. You have to suppress the urge to call your flames to the surface, shoving it down even as you feel your orgasm racing forward as WinWin’s knot slowly sinks inside you, stretching you beyond belief, making you feel so fucking full.

Your eyes roll and WinWin curses in delight at the feeling of your pussy squeezing around him, closing tight around the base of his knot as he fully buries himself inside you, plugging you up.

“Fucking hot,” he groans, and it takes you a moment to realize he doesn’t just mean that you successfully taking his knot is hot. You’re physically hot—sweat steaming off the surface of your skin as you barely contain the flames.

He starts moving, rocking in deeper, and you close your eyes, nothing more than gurgling moans leaving you as he hits so deep that it almost hurts. Another wave of pleasure rises to meet the last, your body spending itself in squeezing around the girth of WinWin.

And at last, the pressure of your cunt massaging around his knot sets WinWin off.

His knot swells even more, fully plugging your pussy as his cock twitches and a steady flow of hot cum spills into you.

You only have time to push at his shoulders, to force WinWin to at least kneel up so he’s not fully covering you as you at last lose your hold on your flames.

They burst from you, as hot as his cum filling you. The flames explode from your head and shoulders, arms and hands, flashing down the rest of your body for just long enough to lick heat against WinWin’a skin before they immediately die out again, all of your strength gone out of you with that last orgasm.

But WinWin’s still cumming, huge gushes of it settling in your belly. You can feel your belly expanding to take it all. Your bodies are locked together with nowhere for all this cum to go but into your womb, and you feel blissed out, the sex-driven hunger gone for the first time since he first mentioned his rut. It feels like hours or minutes; you’re truly not sure how long it’s been.

He pets your hair when at last his orgasm ends or he runs out of cum. You notice that the amber color of his eyes has softened back towards brown, and there’s no intense animalistic lustful energy in the air anymore.

“That was intense, I’m sorry. It’s been, uh, a long time since I knotted inside someone,” WinWin apologizes and brushes a kiss to your brow.

“What do you normally do?” You ask, trying to not show just how exhausted you are now. “Don’t you have to knot to get through your rut?”

WinWin nods. “Yeah, but like, it doesn’t have to be inside someone. Usually I just use my hand or like fleshlight, the fleshlight kinda can trick my body into thinking I’m knotting someone. My rut lasts longer when I’m not with someone, usually it’s worse for me. But if I am with someone but I don’t knot inside them, it still sucks, but fucking someone warm at least takes the edge off a lot better than using my hand or a toy.”

“How long does it last?” You squirm. It feels peculiar, the stretch and full, heavy feeling of him and all of his cum inside you.

“My rut? Uh, it’s between two and three days.” He looks away from you, “So, like, if you get tired, you don’t have to let me keep fucking you. I promise, I can just get myself off. Just tell me to fuck off.”

“I meant your knot,” you squirm again. “Like, it goes down, right? How long does that take? And how long before you need to do it again?”

His cheeks color slightly. “An hour or two is how long it lasts, longer probably if you keep squeezing around me.”

You realize that you have been unintentionally clenching and unclenching around him. “Sorry,” you smile.

“And as for how long until I need to knot again, I’m not really sure. A couple hours, it really changes all the time. I’ll be fine until I’m just… not. It comes in waves, so I never really know. I usually just get sleep and eat and drink water when I can.”

You didn’t plan ahead at all. You should’ve put water within reach of the bed. Your kitchen is too many steps away to reach easily when you’re connected like this.

“You should get some sleep, princess,” WinWin pets your hair again, leaving another kiss on your brow. “I’ll wake you if I need to.”

Carefully, WinWin rearranges the pair of you. He gently helps you lower your legs to a good position (though your muscles ache and scream in protest at moving), and he rolls over onto his back, settling you on top of him with his knot still snug inside you. He draws the blankets up over your bodies, and then he wraps his arms around you, tucking his face again into the crook of your shoulder to breathe in the smell of you.

“You really do smell good,” he murmurs.

“What do I smell like?” You’re curious. Ten and Yuta have both told you that you smell delicious. Mark has mentioned it in an offhand way several times, usually when he’s hungry, and the words are always paired with a bloodthirsty red glint in his eyes.

WinWin is quiet for a moment. You can feel his heartbeat against your chest, and a second heartbeat throbs dully deep inside you, like you’re feeling his pulse through his cock and his knot. He just breathes and you do too, letting it relax you.

You’re tipping on the brink of sleep when WinWin finally answers.

“Caramel. A little spice. Maybe cloves or cinnamon.” He answers softly, his breath tickling lightly over your skin. “Like a candy, maybe, or a warm drink, something that hits right in your belly and you can just feel it warming you from the inside out when the weather’s cold.” His arms hold you a little tighter. “Reminds me of home.”

You doze off.

Vaguely, you dream (possibly) of Yuta. His hands light on your face, his hushed voice and WinWin’s in reply. You think you dream that WinWin carefully sits up with his arms holding you to his chest, his deflating knot still seated inside you as Yuta tips a glass of water to your lips, and you swallow down every drop, far more thirsty than you’d thought.

You dream of Ten, his voice careful yet affectionate as he wraps his arms around you and lifts you from WinWin’s softening cock.

It feels slightly less dreamlike and more real as he carries you to the bathroom, presses another glass of water into your hands to drink, and he helps you shower. You possibly cry actual tears when he helps wash away the cum that’s leaked and dried on your thighs, as Ten scoops WinWin’s cum out of you with his fingers—gently and cautiously as you’re sensitive to any contact at the moment.

You hate to see it all go, and that inspires a few more lighthearted teasing words from Ten, and scattered kisses paired with promises that WinWin is sure to have more cum for you.

“Do you hate me?” You cry even as he’s kissing every freckle on your cheeks. “You probably hate me. I broke a promise.”

“No, you didn’t,” Ten reassures you. He plants his hands on your cheeks, making you look at him. “I don’t hate you. Quite the opposite actually. I told you I’m working on my jealousy. I’m being open-minded. This…. This has just been a test for me, and I think I’m doing quite well.” He leans in to kiss your forehead, and then he stays there, lips against your damp skin while the water rushes over both of you. After a few moments he murmurs, “It’s all quite complicated, but I’ve known that since the night we met you. You’re too lovely to not make everyone you meet fall in love with you. And I think, if it’s only us, just these few of us that are so closely knotted — no pun intended — then I can be happy with that. No one’s going to steal you away. I won’t let it happen.”

“I wouldn’t go anyway,” you promise.

Ten makes sure you’re clean, hydrated, and even fed before he deposits you back into bed with a kiss. WinWin is passed out on the other side of the bed, holding a long pillow that you don’t recognize.

“Sleep, darling. Yuta and I are here to take care of you. And WinWin, that dog.” He throws a look over at the werewolf in your bed. “Like I said earlier, shout if you need anything. Water. A break. Anything.”

“Got it,” you mumble, already sleepily turning over.

And the next time you wake, there’s no sign of Ten or Yuta. Only you and WinWin, both of you undressed in the bed, a glass of water on the bedside table for each of you.

You’re not really sure what woke you, not until you hear it again. A low panting sound, a short whine, the repetitive sound of something moving.

You look at WinWin.

He looks like he’s still sleeping; his eyes are closed though his eyebrows scrunch together. But his body is moving. His hips flex forward, grinding against the long pillow he’s still hugging.

You can feel it again, the heat pouring off of his skin, the answering tug in your belly to his call of need.

But you don’t touch him, you just watch.

You watch him hump the pillow, his bare cock sliding against the slick precum that’s already dripping from his tip. You watch his mouth fall open, a slight glimpse at his teeth elongating into fangs as he bites at the corner of the pillow, his hips moving faster. You witness his orgasm, cum spurting from his angry red cock.

And he doesn’t stop there. WinWin keeps moving, chasing the eternal need to cum, to breed, to knot someone.

You can’t look away or bring yourself to reach out and wake him so you can spread your legs and let him use you as his little fucktoy instead of the pillow. You just watch as WinWin shifts, still dreaming as he mounts the pillow, pressing his body over top of it, rolling his hips to smoothly thrust against the softness of the pillow, but you can tell by the frustrated growl he lets out that it’s not enough. The pillow can’t give him the sweet, tight, warm friction that his rut requires.

He moves, shifting in frustration, repositioning atop the pillow multiple times as he continues trying to fuck it, growing harder and more irritated as the pillow fails to please him.

So finally you reach over.

The moment that your hand makes contact with his feverishly hot skin, WinWin rolls toward you, abandoning his pillow. He spoons up behind you, his cock slotting against your ass. He sighs in relief at the warm feeling of you.

His arms twist around you, hugging you to him like he’d been hugging that pillow. His nose buried in your hair against your shoulder, breathing in.

Something about the way you smell drives him on harder. WinWin twists his hips against you, pinning your hips down beneath his against the bed, and you suppress a moan as he moves uncontrollably, rutting against your ass, his legs nudging yours apart slowly until at last his cock slips down between your thighs, moving on a mission like he can scent out your pussy, and his cock dives right in.

You finally moan his name aloud as he sinks your sensitive pussy around his big dick again.

“Wuh—?” A rut-drunk half asleep WinWin stirs, fucking you on his cock before he’s even fully aware of his surroundings. He doesn’t slow down, even once he realizes, most probably because you moan “keep going” and “don’t stop, WinWin! Fuck, right there!” because at this angle, he’s aimed perfectly against your G spot, and your first orgasm of today hits with very little warning.

WinWin buries himself against you, his knot slipping inside you, every inch of you is touching him, your face pressed into the pillow as WinWin fully plows you. You can feel his knot swelling, his breath panting against your neck, and you’re just vibrating with pleasure.

This time when he knots you, you know what to expect. There’s the hot swell of his knot followed immediately by the equally hot burst of his cum, your body answering with your own orgasm.

You can’t help yourself, twisting your head to the side, reaching back to tangle your fingers in WinWin’s hair, dragging his face from your neck to bring his lips to yours.

It’s a messy, sideways kiss, but it’s what you need. You need to feel entirely encapsulated by WinWin, his body over yours and inside you and beneath you as his hands slide between your body and the mattress.

You’re still in the middle of kissing him when you hear something that draws you out of the heated bubble of pleasure you’re knotted in with WinWin. And then when you feel the mattress shift, you actually pull away from WinWin.

Yuta is sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes fixed on where WinWin has lowered his head back to your throat, just inhaling your sweet scent while he slowly flexes his hips forward.

“Can I help you?” You ask, just looking at Yuta.

He shakes his head, smoothing his hand over a series of wrinkles in the bedsheets. “Just checking on you. Looks like you’re doing just fine.”

When Yuta reaches over to just touch you, WinWin growls. You watch Yuta make a face and then he detours to tug lightly at WinWin’s hair, chastising him with, “Hey, don’t be that way. I’m not stealing her away, puppy. And besides that, we share.”

“Couldn’t go anywhere, even if I wanted to,” you mumble.

Yuta brushes a finger tenderly along your cheek. “I know, my love. He’s got you knotted good on his cock. You won’t forget about Ten and I, will you?”

You lean into his touch. “You can both join in, if WinWin will let you.”

“Ten had to go away on business,” Yuta says, “but I wouldn’t mind joining.”

WinWin makes a slightly possessive growling sound again, but that ends when he lifts his head from your neck and looks up at Yuta.

Specifically, it ends the moment WinWin notices that Yuta has shapeshifted to possess the amber-gold eyes of a wolf, and his teeth are bared in his own demonic version of a growl, saying, “I’m the alpha here, WinWin.”

WinWin’s knot is still swollen inside you, unlikely to come loose any time soon. He’s still doing his best to fuck you, to breed you until your belly is round with his cum again. His skin sticks to yours with sweat, and the heat only grows when Yuta suddenly vanishes all of his clothes and moves closer.

Basking in the radiant heat of a werewolf in his rut and a demon feeling excited has you swimming in sweat, yet deeply aroused.

“We can make this work. It’ll be a little different than with Ten and I,” Yuta says, “Since you’re quite literally joined to Win right now.”

You don’t mind it being a little different.

WinWin does his best to sit up, pulling you up with him, his cock and his knot still snuggly plugging you full of his cum. Yuta slides up in front of you, and you tip your head towards him, eagerly searching for a kiss from him.

“So needy, my love.” He nuzzles against the side of your head for a moment before acquiescing to your nonverbal request for a kiss. Yuta is tender with you in this moment, like he’s fully aware of what your body has been through since they left you alone with WinWin yesterday. You’re not feeling the aches yet, but you know that once all of this dick fever brought on by WinWin’s rut ends, you’re going to be feeling it.

Yuta slides a hand along the front of your body, taking a moment to touch your tits, to caress your sides, trailing his fingertips over your belly, his fingers lastly dipping down to your clit, which has been almost entirely neglected with WinWin. Yuta circles his finger against your clit, his mouth against yours as the heat builds higher and higher. WinWin is casually thrusting into you from behind, pushing out broken pants and moans from your lips.

Yuta bites at your bottom lip as he pulls away, his teeth sharp enough to draw blood. You hiss in pain as Yuta sinks back on his heels, his finger still circling at your clit, and he licks his lips.

“You taste sweet, baby girl. But you smell like our WinWin, if I’m being honest.” Yuta’s eyes flick over your shoulder to WinWin who begins to thrust into you with renewed vigor. “Ten and I are going to have to dip you in holy water or something to get rid of that smell. We already have been hunting down an herb for you to take after WinWin’s rut, to make sure nothing comes of it.”

“Guess I’ll just have to try harder, won’t I?” WinWin moans, and you feel his knot pulse inside you. “She wants it, Yuta. Who am I to deny your pretty girlfriend?”

Your eyes roll in ecstasy as the two of them bicker over you, WinWin dicking you down a little harder, Yuta distractedly massaging your clit at the exact rhythm to complement WinWin’s thrusts.

Your orgasm is a slow, syrupy spread through you, beginning at your toes and then it’s just everywhere all at once. Your body threatens to collapse forward or sway back and rest against WinWin as your pussy milks around his knot.

WinWin bites down at your shoulder, teeth digging against your skin, his body crushed against yours from behind, and you feel fit to burst with how full he makes you feel then, especially as you clench tight around him.

Yuta’s hands move to your belly, pressing a hand low over your abdomen.

“You’re swollen, baby girl. Happy?” Yuta strokes his fingers in a line from your navel down to just above your clit.

“Happier if I had you too,” you manage to say.

WinWin shakes his head behind you. “There’s no room for him.”

“But there will be,” Yuta says. “Once your knot goes down some, just pop that knot out, that’ll free up some room. Your cock is big, Win, but it’s not so big that she can’t take us both at the same time.”

Oh, you feel like it might be. Your pussy’s being stretched to the limit, and it feels great right now, but that little worried voice in the back of your head won’t let you forget about how you’re going to feel after this is over.

“It’ll be alright.” Yuta notices the worried look on your face. He touches your hair, kisses your forehead. “If you don’t want it, let us know. You can be honest.”

Your pussy keeps fluttering around WinWin, wanting more, but wanting a break as well, but also needing to have Yuta inside you as well. There’s nothing you can do about it until WinWin’s knot goes down.

“I want it, want to have both.” You lean into Yuta’s touch.

WinWin whines softly behind you, his needy rut making it difficult for him to even attempt giving you a little break now. But he tries his best to not try fucking you at the moment, like maybe if he doesn’t move his knot will go down quicker.

Yuta curls his hand against your neck, and he brings your mouth to his kissing you gently and distractingly, helping you forget at least momentarily about how full and stretched you feel around WinWin. As Yuta sinks down into his back on the bed you follow, supporting yourself in your hands and knees to keep kissing him. His hands run smoothly over your back and down to your hips; the other hand touches your tits and your belly.

It seems to be simultaneous when Yuta begins touching your clit and also dips his fingers over your unused asshole. Your core throbs, and WinWin unintentionally jolts forward.

Yuta’s fingers deep further, brushing against where you and WinWin are joined. He gathers your wetness on his fingers, bringing them back up to swirl and prod against your ass.

At the moment, you marvel at how far you’ve come over the last few months. You went from being a faithful girl, a young woman certain about her faith and the difference between good and evil, and also you were truly rather vanilla in terms of the sex you’d had with partners. But look at you now. Being knotted by a werewolf while one of the two demons you’re regularly having sex with plays with your ass, presumably to get you ready for anal.

“If you keep that up,” WinWin groans, “I’m not going to be able to pull out.”

You’re reacting well to Yuta’s touches. The arousal always tucked just there beneath the surface readily rising to his call.

He slips a finger through the tight ring of your ass, and you drop your head forward against his chest, pressing back on his finger and WinWin’s cock. WinWin rocks forward, Yuta massages your clit.

“Shit,” you gasp.

“Good girl,” Yuta coos. “Relax for us.”

You automatically obey, taking a deep breath to help relax yourself. Just press your lips to Yuta’s chest as he begins to finger you slowly while WinWin keeps moving in equally as slow motions, keeping you constantly stimulated. That’s even without factoring in the way Yuta continues teasing your clit.

You succumb to a haze of lust, just laying there and receiving pleasure from the two of them. You don’t even let out moans, not really. You just zone out, your cheek pressed to Yuta’s shoulder, hums of quiet pleasure vibrating in your chest as WinWin’s rut haze takes over completely, pushed into effect by the gentle heat of your pussy around him also being stimulated via your ass.

WinWin cums and keeps going, groaning out an, “I’m sorry, I know you’ve got to be sensitive, but I need it,” as he pumps you full to the point of a weak cry spilling from your lips. He folds over you, humping into you like a dog with his favorite toy, and you possibly black out for a second, overwhelmed by a sudden confusing mix of pain, pleasure, and sensitivity.

When you come back to, your face is sticking to Yuta’s chest with your tears, and you realize what caused your black out.

WinWin’s readjusting. He pulled out of you, knot and all, to position himself to fuck your newly opened ass.

“You okay?” He asks when you look back over your shoulder at him. He’s stroking his cock, and you see his knot again for the first time since last night, swollen and darker colored than the rest of his cock.

“Good,” you mumble.

Yuta’s fingers are stretching your asshole open, and that too makes you want to roll your eyes into the back of your head. Everything feels so good right now, pleasure with an edge of pain, so high on pheromones and your body loose right now.

“You sure, baby?” Yuta kisses the top of your head. “You can tell him no. Tell us no.”

“Want it,” you roll your head on his chest until the point of your chin digs against his skin. “Yuta, I want both of you.”

His face is right there in front of yours, so close that his features are blurry and unfocused. “He can’t knot you again. I won’t allow that. You need some rest. Proper rest, my love. One orgasm for each of us, and I’m putting you in a timeout.”

You smile a little goofy at that comment, but WinWin makes his agreement behind you, so you nod as well.

It’s so familiar by this point, the way that Yuta touches you, his hands running smoothly over your belly and your hips, reaching your thighs as he pulls you forward into his lap. You know that you’re leaking WinWin’s cum to a disgusting degree, but it doesn’t seem to bother Yuta. He pulls you into his lap, watching you with that deep fiery hunger in his eyes as they blossom with darkness, and he guides you to sink down around his erection.

It’s such a difference from WinWin stretching you open with his giant knot. Yuta’s a perfect size, even though you can tell that he’s altered himself to more closely resemble the cock he’d worn when he fucked you as WinWin.

Yuta softens you up with his kiss, with his hands on your hips, his cock rocking slowly up into you. And then you feel WinWin, his fingers slicking up through the leaked cum, pressing them inside your back entrance to stretch you just a little more even after Yuta’s ministrations.

“Good girl,” Yuta keeps praising you. “You’re so good for WinWin, my love. Doing so well.” He kisses your cheeks, licking away the overwhelmed tears that drip from your eyes, and he lowers his kisses until he lands at your lips. “My perfect girl. You can handle this?”

You nod, full of desire to take them both at once even as the uncertainty of it floods through your veins. WinWin’s cock alone is a lot to take, add taking Yuta’s altered cock in at the same time, and you’re just nervous about it.

With your final confirmation and consent to this, you feel WinWin push his fat tip against your entrance, moving slow even though you can feel the tension tight in his muscles, the want to just bury himself inside your heat radiating from him. But he eases slowly, getting the tip in while Yuta holds you still in his arms, kissing your cries away in an attempt to soothe you.

WinWin pushes in a little more and a little more, rocking his hips forward shallowly, not trying to stuff you too full of his cock when you’ve got Yuta in there as well. And he keeps his swollen knot away from the tight pucker of your ass. He gives you the chance to adjust, and Yuta does as well, both of them kissing you, touching you, and then beginning to move again.

It’s a very intense feeling to have two men penetrating you at once. To have both of them moving in alternating but complementary ways, big cocks touching everywhere inside you, nearly touching through the thin wall between your ass and vagina.

Yuta’s hands run repeatedly over your arms and back and shoulders, pulling you down closer, kissing you desperately, his hands flickering with heat like invisible flames.

WinWin’s touch doesn’t stray from your hips, determinedly fucking into you, and when you get the spare moment to look back at him, he’s just watching his cock disappear inside your ass, or maybe watching Yuta’s be consumed by your pussy.

You do your best to move, too. Bouncing back on their cocks, feeling yourself stuffed so full if they time it just right to both be fully inside of you at the same moment. That’s just a feeling beyond your wildest dreams, indescribably good. Something so absolutely explicit about having both of your holes stretched to the max, feeling WinWin’s knot right there—swollen and pressing against your asshole, but he doesn’t push it in, though there’s a part of you that wishes he would, and that Yuta would alter his cock to have a knot too, for them both push all the way in, double-knotting you.

You cum with that thought consuming your mind, being double-knotted by your werewolf and your demon pretending to be a wolf, pumped full with their cum.

“Filthy,” Yuta moans, as your body tries to pull them both in deeper and to hold them inside you. His fingers are on your face, against your temple, gentle down your cheek. “What you’re thinking about my love, it’s pure filth.”

In your demon lessons, he and Ten have been teaching you to block others out of your thoughts, and for the most part you’re excellent at it. But right now, you have no strength to hold those walls up. They’ve come tumbling down, and Yuta’s slipped himself right through the gaps, reading your thoughts as plainly as if you were speaking them aloud.

“You want us both to knot you, pretty girl?” Yuta voices aloud, probably for WinWin’s benefit. “What a dirty knotslut.”

WinWin moans behind you, his hands holding tighter to your hips, his thrusts more powerful, rocking you on Yuta’s cock as well.

Yuta smirks. “You want it, baby? I’ll make an exception to my rules. We can each knot you one last time before your timeout.”

Your eyes feel wet, body aching with need, teetering on the edge of another orgasm as WinWin loses control of himself and begins to just take what he needs, using you as a fucktoy, his knot squeezing up against your entrance.

“Please!” You beg, and your voice sounds hoarse to your own ears. “Please, please, knot me again. Both of you. I need it. I need—“

Yuta leans up, silencing you with a kiss, his hand curled against the back of your head.

You feel Yuta’s cock swelling inside you, the change subtle but noticeable after a moment as he begins to let his control slip. You feel a bulge at the base of his cock, feel the way he thrusts in right before the bulge inflates. Your orgasm is instantaneous.

And then WinWin’s fingers press against your asshole, slipping in gently, stretching you open just a little bit more, and it feels so good. You feel like your body is leaking arousal, everywhere down there so slick from your wetness and their precum and cum, that WinWin easily gets a couple more fingers in alongside his cock, making room for his knot to fit in.

He thrusts in, sliding his knot past the tight grip of your hole, and you genuinely think you black out.

It’s too much. So much. This feeling.

You experience it through a fog, hazy recollections later.

They cum inside you at the same time.

Both of them pressed in fully, all the way inside you, knots swelling to close you off, to keep their cum in as it pulses in hot waves inside you.

Your limbs give out completely, all of your weight resting on Yuta beneath you, but you don’t think anyone cares in that moment. All floating away, lost in the bliss of being wrapped tight in your heat, their cocks being milked by your body for all they’ve got.

You don’t know how long it is that you’re in that state of semi-consciousness, but eventually you’re back. One moment everything’s a haze, and the next you’re blinking your eyes open, feeling Yuta tenderly playing with your hair.

“You’re definitely being forced into a timeout now,” Yuta whispers. “That was more than we should’ve given you.”

WinWin murmurs in agreement.

Slowly you realize that their knots must have gone down. You’re empty, gaping and leaking. You’re on your side in between Yuta and WinWin, and when you shift your legs to attempt to get more comfortable you find that’s an impossibility because everything aches. Your body feels sticky all over, not just between your legs, but your belly and shoulders and face, everything damp from sweat and tears and coming in contact with the sheets that are likely ruined (again).

You feel like you should rest. They’re right about that. Your body, much as that little fire that’s still burning in your belly at the feel of WinWin behind you and Yuta’s bare body laid out in front of your hungry eyes, you know it can’t take much (if any) more.

But you’re not tired is the only problem. Yes, physically you feel like your body needs to just take some time to recover, but you don’t feel like sleeping. Sleeping, recently here in this city, has become less of a requirement than it did when you believed yourself to just be a human living in the mortal world.

“I think I need a shower.” You sigh, lifting your thighs apart from each other, feeling the sticky pull of your skin. “And some water.”

Yuta snaps his fingers, manifesting three glasses of water instantly, passing one off to WinWin, to you. The three of you drink them down in silence, following the first up with a second, and as you dribble some down your chin and WinWin teases you about it, wiping at your chin with his fingers, you’re reminded suddenly of the night before. Of Ten cleaning you up and helping you rehydrate.

“Where’s Ten at?” You ask, looking to Yuta for an answer.

“Demon business, my love.” Yuta takes the empty water glasses and sits them aside.

“Ten’s going to be jealous,” WinWin says delightedly, moving up closer behind you, his lips against your shoulder, nose buried in the crook of your neck. “When he comes home and finds you smelling like me and Yuta.”

Yuta laughs. “Ten’s a possessive little cat. He’s probably going to be pissed at me for joining in, then he’s gonna rub all over you, my love. Gonna mark you with his scent all over again, beg you for love and cuddles.”

And you’re going to give it all to him. You can hardly ever deny him anything, except when you’re angry with him. When he gets home, as long as all he wants are cuddles, you’ll give it to him. As for him restating his claim on you through sex, that’s going to have to wait.

“I feel disgusting.” You turn over onto your belly, wrinkling your nose as you feel the slow leak between your legs. “I don’t know what I expected when I agreed to help you through your rut, WinWin, but it wasn’t this.”

It’s obscene. You can’t even attempt to look; you don’t even want to think about the amount of sticky cum your body has held over the past twenty-four hours.

He laughs quietly, another press of his lips to your skin in apology. “I’ll make it up to you with a million thank yous,” WinWin promises. “Give you everything, whatever you want, princess.”

- - -

WinWin’s rut lasts another two days. Yuta stays there through most of it, drawing the line when he can see you reaching your limit. WinWin knots you a few more times, Yuta joins in on that at least once more. Ten makes an appearance briefly in between rounds, returning to check in, but then he’s gone again by the time that WinWin’s lust rises again.

By the end of it all, you were exhausted, sleeping for what must have been an entire day.

And when you woke, you weren’t in the bed any longer, but on the sofa. Sitting up in Ten’s arms, leaning back against his chest.

“Missed you,” he mumbles when you twist a little in his arms, trying to readjust to look at his face. His arms are tight around you, holding you against his chest, his head resting against the top of yours. Ten is so wrapped around you, with a blanket of his snug around you as well, that you can tell he’s doing exactly what Yuta and WinWin had said he’d be doing—making you smell less like WinWin.

“Ten,” you hum happily. “Where were you? I wanted you to be there too.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and in that you think you get your answer a little bit.

Ten couldn’t be there. He’s possessive, like you’re all aware of. Though he gave you up to WinWin’s rut, he didn’t want to linger here and watch. He accepted it, but he didn’t want to play witness to you getting fucked a dozen plus times.

“I’m here now.” He moves his head, leaving a kiss against your hair. “You’ve been asleep for a while, darling, so I moved you over here while they fixed the bed.”

Oh, right. You forgot that other than just ruining the sheets, during the midst of all of that, towards the end of the second day or perhaps it was the beginning of the third, you’d broken the bed. You’d left it, as the bed wasn’t broken enough to really disturb all the sex you had going on, but the break did get worse, falling apart more with each round.

“We cleaned you up, too,” Ten says. “And he did a number on you. Your hips and bottom are bruised.”

“Worth it, honestly.” You shift around to get a little more comfortable. “I know you might not want to hear that, but it really was, Ten.”

He nods. “Yuta told me all about it. Also, you drank some of the tea we made for you while you were sleeping. So, you don’t have to worry about, like, actually getting knocked up with a litter of werewolf cubs.”

There’s a bloom of relief inside you. While all of that idea about being bred was hot in the moment, you don’t actually want that. Werewolf cubs might be a little too much to wrap your mind around.

You and Ten lapse into comfortable silence, just wrapped up in each other for a little while. The curtains are drawn over the big windows, making the apartment quite dim, but as you lie there in Ten’s arms, you begin to want a little light. So, you manifest it. Slowly.

You tip your head back on Ten’s shoulder, and slowly, you see the lights begin to appear, popping into existence on the ceiling.

First one star. Then another. A constellation, the pale arm of the Milky Way. A bigger sparkle that could be Venus or Saturn in the imitation of the night sky on your ceiling.

Ten kisses the top of your head again when the moon appears, a narrow crescent in the corner of the room. “You’re incredible,” Ten’s voice is soft with awe and wonder.

You lie there and stargaze at the universe you created, relaxing with Ten until Yuta appears. He slides right onto the sofa with you, slotting himself between your legs and leaning back against your chest.

“It’s beautiful. I told you that you could do it.” His hand covers your knee, a comforting heat. “You’re like a god all on your own now, my love. Painting the universe, able to shapeshift and summon fire.”

You’re not a god. Gods are holy and above everything and everyone else. You’re a part-demon thing of unholiness in love with two demons.

But you don’t feel like speaking, your body still exhausted to your core from the marathon of rigors it's been through over the past few days. So you just lie there in the quiet with your lovers, and enjoy the sight of the stars.

<-previous || next–>

a/n: *big sigh of relief* that was a long one, like in the document, that whole WinWin rut was like 30 pages long 😂😂 I hope you enjoyed this! There was a tiny bit of plot development in here, and I’m hoping going forward in the next few chapters you’ll actually be able to see the plot instead of just the smut because we’re reaching the point where when I was writing this I decided to make it more than just smut

As always! Thank you so much for reading! Comments, reblogs, likes, all of that stuff is forever and always appreciated!

(ps, if at any point you notice any inconsistencies please let me know! Because half of this story was written like a month and a half ago, and half of it I’m writing on the days in between posting, so there might be some things that I accidentally mess up and don’t catch when I do an edit)

#nct smut #nct fics #yuta smut #winwin smut #wayv smut #nakamoto yuta #winwin #ten lee #mark lee #nct #wayv #unholy

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